A deep-fried “flower” sat in the middle of the table, alongside two pints of blood and a chocolate milkshake. A binder full of real estate flyers lay open between Andrew and Willow. When Jonathan climbed onto one of the empty stools, Drusilla was busy signing autographs for a cluster of fans, most of them vampires in Church of the Eternal Night T-shirts. It hadn’t taken long for the church to rebuild. It had reopened under the leadership of some vampire named Kakistos, whom the Mayor swore was a real dyed-in-the-wool villain.

“Dude!” Andrew said. He tore off a deep-fried petal and held it out to Jonathan. “You have to try some of this bloomin’ onion. Spike was not overselling it when he said it was the perfect food.”

The deep-fried onion was, in fact, delicious. Softer than an onion ring with all the salty crunchiness of a Funyun. And even better with the tangy, spicy dipping sauce.

“Wow,” Jonathan said, licking the salt from his fingers. “That’s even better than the fish and chips we got last week!”

“The food here is far better than it needs to be,” Anya said, claiming the last empty stool at the table. She reached for an onion petal and popped it into her mouth. “Who goes to a bar for quality food?”

“I have a reputation to uphold here,” Angelus rumbled, standing behind Anya with his chin resting on top of her head. He had acclimated to his short hair, wearing it styled in a point. Not dissimilar to Andrew’s.

“I boosted your reputation when I made this place famous for being the site of the slayer’s defeat,” Anya said, making a cross-eyed attempt to look up at Angelus. “You could serve flash-frozen garbage at a premium and the club would get the same amount of business.”

“But then where would we get bloomin’ onions?” Andrew asked.

“Maybe the chain restaurant the Bronze stole the recipe from?” Willow said with a mischievous flick of her eyebrows. It was odd to see the vampire girl using her human face. Even in her leather catsuit, she looked so much more like the Willow Rosenberg that Jonathan had grown up with. Until one of Drusilla’s admirers got too close and Willow’s face instantly transformed into a yellow-eyed snarl. “Leave now,” she warned.

The fans instantly scattered. Drusilla swung around on her stool, lashes fluttering, her face the picture of innocence.

“They were only being friendly, my ginger darling,” Dru said. She drew Willow’s hand to her face and rubbed her cheek against it.

“We have friends right here,” Willow said, her face smoothing once again.

“Oh!” Drusilla looked dreamily around the table. “So we do. My daddy Angelus and the undrinkable ones. Hello, friends. Have you seen the new home our Andrew has found us?”