“Who, the guy at your robot party trying to turn himself into a demon?” The slayer curled her lip. “Pretty sure you blew him up. I mean, I guess if he’d succeeded in Ascending, I probably would have had to kill him. Part of the whole Chosen One thing is stopping the Old Ones from taking over the world.”

“Are you even from this dimension?” Anya asked, stepping forward like a guard dog. Her index finger twirled in the air, tracing the slayer’s shape. “You’ve got tourist written all over you. Taking things that don’t belong to you. Recognizing people you don’t know. Getting mad at the rules that have always been. Are you still the Chosen One if this world didn’t choose you?”

The slayer’s nostrils flared, her eyes hard. “This is a world that shouldn’t exist. All I want is to see Demondale destroyed.”

“Well, we aren’t going to give you the flag,” Jonathan said. “Good luck bringing about the apocalypse without it.”

Spike and Angelus tumbled out from beneath the Paradise Lost quote, leather squeaking as they fought to be the first out of the door.

“The bloody stairs are on fire!” Spike shouted. “Let’s get the hell out of this place!”

The slayer spun around, aiming the Super Soaker at him. “No one leaves until I get the flag. Take another step and I’ll burn your eyes out.”

Willow and Drusilla came out of the door next. Willow had her arm around Drusilla’s shoulders. Drusilla had her skirt pulled up to her knees, her face buried in the dirty hem as she sobbed.

“Grandmother, Grandmother,” Drusilla wailed, burying her head in Willow’s shoulder. “Our poor Angelus, an orphan.”

“I’m not dead, Drusilla. I’m right here,” Darla said, appearing in the doorway. Her face and suit were grimy with vamp dust. One of her false eyelashes was missing, making her blinks lopsided. She pointed a dirty finger down the aisle. “It’s the slayer who should be crying. I’m going to tear your throat out, bitch.”

“Yikes.” Anya sucked in a wince. “I know you’re from another time and she’s trying to end existence, but do we have to use misogynistic language? Just saying. It’s a bad look all around.”

Darla bounded down the pulpit steps. The slayer fired the Super Soaker. Jonathan could hear the crackle of the holy water burning Darla’s flesh. Angelus called her name and Drusilla screamed, but Darla didn’t slow down. Even as white smoke rose from her face.