“It did look very cool. Good thing I went to get the knife out of my boot, huh?” he asked with a wink.

She shoved his shoulder. “You were not! You were helping me.”

“Maybe, maybe not,” he said with a chuckle.

“Anya!”

Spinning around on her stool, she found Andrew and Jonathan running toward her with red eyes and dripping noses. Anya couldn’t tell if they were having an emotional outburst or an allergic reaction to the livestock.

“Oh my God!” Andrew said, throwing his arms around her and sobbing into her shoulder. “We thought you were dead!”

Jonathan flung himself on her other side. “You were gone for so long!”

Anya held her hands in the air, unsure where to put them or how to escape. She couldn’t remember the last time she had been hugged by one person, much less two. This could very well be her first encounter with the thing people called a “group hug.” She wasn’t sure she liked it. It had much less of a clear ending than a one-on-one embrace.

“Spike might have pretended not to see their wristbands,” Angelus murmured behind her.

“Oh, you’re drunk!” she said to the human boys with dawning comprehension. “I thought you were being emotional.”

“We’re both!” Jonathan sniffled. “I think.”

Carefully sliding out of the hug, Anya stood behind her stool, just in case of additional outbursts.

“Anya,” Andrew said, catching the mucus dripping off the end of his nose in his sleeve. “I was so scared that the slayer killed you before we got a chance to tell you that you were right.”

“Thank you, I know.” She paused, waiting for an elaboration that wasn’t forthcoming. “About what?”

“About us,” Andrew said. “Becoming friends.”

Tears leaked down Jonathan’s face, pooling under his chin and dripping into his turtleneck. “We were wrong to betray your trust before. With the—the—you know.”

“Money made of lies, yes,” Anya said, unimpressed.

“We’re really sorry,” Andrew said.

“So sorry!” Jonathan wept.

“And we wanted to make it up to you, so I. . .” Fishing in his pockets, Andrew retrieved a small wad of folded bills and extended it to her.

Anya examined the money in her hands. Some of the dollars were crinkled and old-looking. Others crisp and still reeking of fresh ink and cotton. “How am I supposed to trust that this isn’t another trick? That you didn’t just run home and print off more fakes?”

“We didn’t, we swear!” Jonathan said.

“I borrowed money from Mike when we were out flyering downtown,” Andrew explained. “Human-Mike. It’s not everything we owe you, but it’s a start—”

“Human-Mike has less money?” she asked. Her heart swelled and her throat constricted, forcing her to take a breath before she could continue. “You impaired his ability to procure goods?”

“And services,” Jonathan said.