Commercials. I'd mentioned the astronaut-caveman argument to Johanna a long time ago. When I call, Johanna says that the cavemen would win. I say, "But they're in groups! I thought it was one on one, but if there are groups I say astronauts."
When we return, Fred's in bed in some kind of Wolfram & Hart clinic. The rest of the cast, and Knox, surround her bed. Fred moans, "It's my boys [sic]," and makes a dumb joke. Angel says that the lab is checking her blood, and Fred says, "I'm a mummy, aren't I?" Spicule says, "I've fought plenty of mummies, and none of them were as pretty as you." After a beat, he amends that: "Almost none." Fred correctly notes that they're all being too nice to her, and asks what's wrong with her. Gunn tells her that she's sick. Helpful lad. Knox adds that they're studying the sarcophagus. Fred has a moment of clarity and realizes that the MoG are, essentially, clueless. Angel assures her that they'll figure it out. Fred writes her own epitaph: "Handsome man saves me." Angel whispers, "That's how it works." Yes, that pretty well sums up her role on the show, doesn't it? Maybe she's dying of shame. Well, to be fair, sometimes the handsome men prevent her from doing anything. And she did get to be self-sufficient three whole times, making her about as useful as Xander. Anyway. Angel says they should get to work, and everyone but Wesley exits. Wesley sits on the bed and holds Fred's hand until she says he has to "go be Book Man." Wesley says she can page him and he'll be there "in a heartbeat." Fred whispers, "Assuming I still have one." Apparently noble suffering looks a lot like passive-aggression. Wesley kisses her on the forehead as he gets up to leave.