“It’s no use sucking up to them,” Jonathan muttered to Andrew. He knew that the vampires could hear him even when he whispered, but he didn’t care. “They’re not going to turn you.”

“I was just making conversation.” Andrew sulked, avoiding eye contact. “Do you think it’s racist to assume that all vampires know each other?”

“Probably,” Jonathan said. He had found that it was safer to err on the side of not offending people. Especially people who wanted to eat him. “But that’s not why they’ll never turn you. Nerds don’t get eternal life.”

Andrew shot him a look of scorn and said, “Tucker did,” before taking the rest of the stairs two at a time, just to prove that he could.

And Jonathan couldn’t.

If Andrew did succeed in his quest to become a vampire, what would happen to Jonathan? How would he survive in Demondale without either of his friends? He had only stayed under the sunshade so that he could be part of the Trio. He could have moved to Orange with his parents and gone to college for computer science. He could have moved through the world, alone and anonymous. A nothing student who would graduate into a nothing employee. Maybe someday a nothing middle manager with a business card that no one ever took. Doomed to forever water his parents’ plants while they went on cruises without him.

If Warren didn’t come back from the dead soon, Andrew would expose his neck to any vamp willing to turn him. Or lie about turning him long enough to drain him.

If the slayer found the Black Flame flag, there wouldn’t be a world to live in. So, at least Jonathan would be dead before he was officially friendless.

Was it pathetic to find comfort in the impending apocalypse? Probably. But he did it anyway.

By the time he caught up to the group, they were inside City Hall’s echoing lobby, gathered around a secretary’s desk.

“I’m sorry,” the secretary said. He appeared to be fully human, in a button-down shirt and a black vest that made him look like the concierge of a fancy hotel. “But without an appointment, I’m afraid I cannot allow you an audience with the Mayor. He’s very busy and in the middle of an election—”

“This is a matter of life and death!” Anya said, slamming her hands down on the secretary’s desk. “The apocalypse is coming!”

“You think you’re the first group to come in with news of an apocalypse?” the secretary asked stoically. “The Mayor is well informed on the threats posed to his city.”

“Listen here, you poncey little git,” Spike said, letting his face transform into a fanged snarl. “We need to find the Black Flame flag right now—”

The secretary yawned and opened a desk drawer without looking. He held up a wooden crucifix the size of a ruler. Spike, Drusilla, and Angelus all let out leonine roars and flew back from the desk as though hit with a force field. Jonathan was deeply impressed. He wished he’d saved the crucifix from the security table before the slayer had stolen it.