“Either that or they really don’t you want you to have hands, huh, Hoffy?” Harmony tittered. “Maybe you should have listened to me when I said you needed to take care of your nails.”

“Maybe,” D’Hoffryn intoned mirthlessly.

“So, I can’t resurrect the third nerd in this trio?” Anya asked. Human-Mike’s money was heavy in her pocket. Without a Wish to grant, she had no reason to charge Andrew and Jonathan.

D’Hoffryn’s shaking head squeaked against the bar. “Any injury sustained in the battle against the slayer will stand.” The Lower Being’s mustache drooped. “Our fallen comrades in Arashmaharr will stay dead. And my head will remain apart from my body.”

“Sorry, I don’t want to interrupt,” Andrew said, peeking out from behind Anya again. “But, Mister D’Hoffryn, would the, uh, Powers let you have a robotic body? Because we have, like, a ton of those sitting in a warehouse in Docktown. They’re all female, though.”

“Hmm. That could be acceptable,” D’Hoffryn said. His lips pursed in thought. “Tell me, what kind of modifications could be made to this robotic form? My original form contained the ability to shoot lightning from my hands.”

“Do you want the lightning to do anything special? Like freeze or shrink things?” Jonathan asked.

“No,” D’Hoffryn said. “Just blow shit up.”

Andrew grinned. “Oh, we can totally make the robot do that.”

While the nerd boys talked technical specifics with D’Hoffryn, Anya returned to her beer. She was relieved to find that it was still cold. Angelus came out from behind the bar, a pint of blood in his hand. He sat down next to her.

“Seemed like a good time to take a break,” he said.

“It’s been a long day,” Anya agreed. “Even for Demondale.”

The two of them watched as Spike slid down the bar, cropping up at Harmony’s side.

“Hello, pet,” Spike said, his accent twice as thick as usual. “The name’s Spike. What’s yours?”

“Harmony Kendall,” the receptionist said, extending her hand.

“Didn’t she just say that she didn’t want to be pawed by a random creep?” Angelus asked Anya.

“Harm. What a beautiful name,” Spike said, sweeping his lips over Harmony’s knuckles. “Lovely to meet you.”

“Those cheekbones can get away with anything,” Anya told Angelus as Spike ushered Harmony down to his empty end of the bar. The blond girl giggled, asking if Spike was from “the real England,” as though there were another option. Spike responded in so much British slang that Anya couldn’t make out the words. She laughed into her drink. “He is going to regret that.”

“Oh yeah,” Angelus said. He took a swig from his pint and licked his bloodstained lips. “But it will be a new regret. That’ll be good for him.”