“Spike,” Angelus grunts. “Can’t you see she’s trying to cut my damn head off?”

“Yeah, yeah, but it’s bloody slow going,” Spike says.

“She’s sixteen years old,” Angelus says.

“Hey!” the Slayer says. She hitches the sword tighter against his neck. “How did you know that? I’m way mature for my age. I could totally pass for twenty.”

Angelus struggles to glare at her without turning his head. “You smell like Teen Spirit. And collagen.”

Spike snorts, scraping the tip of his sword in the carpet. “Didn’t stop you in another dimension, old man.”

“I am not responsible for anything some ensouled vegetarian does with my face,” Angelus grumbles.

One of Spike’s heavy boots stamps on the Slayer’s toes. Sucking in a pained gasp, she loosens her grip enough for Angelus to get free. He reels around, both of his big white hands reaching up for her throat.

“Let’s see how you like it,” Angelus snarls. “Pretty sure you’re the only person in the room who needs to breathe.”

The Slayer’s knee slams into his groin. As he roars, she kicks his knees out from under him, shoving him down into the carpet with the dull tip of the toy sword.

“Pretty sure I’m the only person in the room, period,” she snaps.

Sharp, stinging pain erupts in her skull as she’s pulled back. Flinging around, she sees Spike’s hand buried deep in her hair.

“Hair pulling?” she asks, more offended than hurt. “Really?”

He cocks his head at her. “You expect a fair fight from a vampire? Now hold still, Happy Meal.”

Sensing the impending viper-strike of his fangs, the Slayer jams the purple hilt of the toy sword between her neck and Spike’s mouth. Choking on the pommel forces him to let go of the Slayer’s hair. Released, she backhands him into a tower of board games. Ten different Monopoly boxes fall on him. Plastic hotels and pewter Scottie dogs clatter like hail.

Either these dudes don’t know where the Black Flame flag is or they aren’t going to give up the information she needs. One or the other she could probably handle, but both at once is total chaos. Before either can lunge for her again, she speeds back into the kitchen, retrieving the green gem and staff from the counter.

“Who needs informants when I have you?” she says fondly. The dowsing rod, in response, vibrates westward.