Who's That Girl?

"Hi baby," Bebe purred in Angel's ear as she arrived in English class. He merely nodded to her. He was uncomfortable to extremes. Buffy was sitting directly in front of him, talking animatedly to Cordelia. He felt a little pang in his heart, but quashed it quickly. He wasn't Buffy boyfriend material. She was the Class President and he was the rebel without a cause. Ms. Davis came in, interrupting his stream of thought.

"Buffy, Principal Snyder would like to see you." She told the blonde, who got up and went out.

"Buffy, good to see you as always," Snyder smiled at her. She smiled back weakly. What did he want now?"

"Good morning, Principal Snyder. What can I do for you today?"

"We have another new student. A young man by the name of Lindsey."

"Lindsey? Isn't that a girl's name?"

"Sometimes Buffy, sometimes." Snyder indulged his favourite student this little joke. He spoke into the intercom. Buffy was suddenly reminded of Angel's first day. She was also eternally glad that Snyder had never asked her to show Bebe around. The door opened.

"Lindsey, this is Buffy Summers, the senior class President. She'll be showing you around the school. Buffy, this is Lindsey MacDonald." She turned. A tall, dark young man was standing there, a knowing smile playing on his lips. He was well dressed, in a sharply tailored suit that would've looked more usual on a lawyer than a high school student. The only thing missing was a tie. Instead his shirt was unbuttoned to reveal a gleaming gold cross.

"Hi Lindsey, great to meet you." She said. He took her hand and shook it. "Why don't I show you around the school?"

"I'd love that." He smiled at her and she felt her cheeks warm slightly.

She showed him round the school and she found herself comparing it to Angel's tour. He had been moody and silent, only warming up at the very end. In contrast, Lindsey was polite and inquisitive, asking questions not only about the school but about her.

"Are there any good clubs around here?" He asked. She smiled. Hadn't Angel asked her that?

"Well, there's the Bronze. That's where most of us go. But there's a brand new club called Blitz. It's new, so we don't know how it's going to work out."

"Blitz? My sister owns it."

"She does? She's Echo?"

"Yeah."

"Is Echo her real name?"

"Yeah. Don't know what possessed my parents to name her that. But then, they gave me a girl's name." He grinned.

"Have you just moved here with your family?"

"Echo is my only family. Our parents died about seven years ago. Echo brought me up."

"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that."

"What, that Echo brought me up?"

"No, that your parents died. I don't know what I'd do if my mom died."

"You'd go crazy for a couple of years, then you'd be OK." He said. The bell rang, and the classrooms began to empty.

"Maybe I'll see you at Blitz sometime?" Lindsey asked.

"Sure." Buffy nodded. "See you there." She smiled at Lindsey's retreating form. Maybe Angel wasn't such a hard act to follow up.

Speaking of Angel, he was out in the school courtyard with Bebe, Spike and Dru. Spike and Dru had always disliked Courtney, and so they disliked Bebe too. They remembered Bebe from before. Now they were concerned for Angel again. Not only because he seemed to be going back to the dark side of the force, but because it seemed to be affecting him so much more than it had before. Even now in the midday sun in his leather trousers and white renaissance shirt, he looked drawn. Spike had put it down to having got unused to wild times, but Drusilla had been more concerned. Maybe Angel just couldn't take it anymore.

"I was telling Jodie back in New York how out here in Sunnydale everyone so much more... sunny!" Bebe said, as if having made the funniest joke in the history of comedy.

"Sunny. Yeah." Angel said, shoving his sunglasses over his eyes. The sun was bearing down too strongly.

"Are you OK, Angel?" Dru asked, clearly concerned. He merely grunted and pretended to listen to whatever Bebe was chattering on about. Like Courtney, Bebe had the alarming ability to talk for hours about absolutely nothing of consequence.

"But of course, I told her that the people here are so unsophisticated compared to New Yorkers." Bebe continued on. Angel felt anger rising within him, this time not against himself but against Bebe.

"Hi!" Lindsey called. Buffy and her friends had just arrived at Blitz. They had been slightly bemused when Buffy suggested returning to the club, and outright surprised to find Buffy on the VIP list.

"Hi Lindsey, these are my friends. This is Xander, Cordelia, that's Oz and this is Willow." She said. He greeted each of them.

"How do you like the club?"

"It's great. Aren't you the new guy at school?" Cordelia asked.

"Yeah. This is my sister's club."

"It's great."

"Better than opening night." Lindsey said. They nodded. "Openings are often pretty rough." They continued talking for sometime, Lindsey charming them all. Then, Spike and Dru arrived, coming over.

"Hi guys," Spike said, expecting a frosty reception. They were, after all, Angel's friends. But instead, room was made at the table for them.

"Where have you guys been? Did you disappear off the face of the earth?" Cordelia demanded.

"No, we just, well..."

"You thought because of Angel and Buffy we weren't friends anymore?" Xander asked. "Don't be stupid. We're all friends."

"Yeah," Buffy agreed, breaking off her conversation with Lindsey long enough to interject. They talked for a little longer, before Lindsey excused himself.

"Buffy!" Willow exclaimed as soon as the young man was out of earshot.

"What?"

"Look at you two! He's got it bad for you!" Xander told her. Buffy made a disbelieving face.

"Yeah right. He hardly knows me." Buffy said.

"So? And you like him too." Cordelia said. Buffy wrinkled her nose.

"No I don't."

"You so do!" Dru piped in. "Yes Lindsey, no Lindsey, that's so funny, Lindsey!" She imitated Buffy.

"OK, I admit, he is fairly dollsome. But..." She trailed off. She knew what the 'but' was, yet she wouldn't admit it out loud. And of course, with his usual impeccable timing, the 'but' came waltzing through the door with his Bebe-shaped shadow.

Perhaps 'waltzing' was the wrong word for the manner in which Angel and Bebe entered the club. Stagger, reel, lurch, totter, stumble- any of these words could describe the two, who were so obviously under the influence that it was a minor miracle that they'd been let into the club at all.

"Look at the state of that," Spike shook his head, both angry and disappointed. Drusilla looked concerned.

"I'm worried about him," She said to Spike quietly. He nodded.

"So am I."

Manhattan.

Angel had a fair bit of difficulty getting out of the house that evening. His father had received another phone call from Sir Ronald about Angel's lack of application, lack of attendance, lack of anything. So, when he informed his father that he was going to Byron's house, he came up against a brick wall.

"Don't even think about it, young man." His father had told him. At first, Angel wondered if he really was stuck at home for the night.

"Oh William, does it matter? If he wants to go out, let him go out. How much trouble can he get into?" Anne had said. Rather than risk a fight with his wife, William merely relented, knowing that he couldn't fight them both. So, Angel was off, taking with him a bottle of 60 proof gin his father had imported from Europe. He jumped onto his bike, roaring off down the road towards Byron's house. On the way, he sipped occasionally from the bottle, hoping to get into a better mood before arriving at the party. He managed to get to Byron's palatial home without further incident, but when he arrived he immediately noticed the absence of the birthday boy from the party downstairs. Figuring that Byron must be upstairs, he went up, hoping to hand Byron his present before he drank it all himself. He opened the door to Byron's room and whatever he was about to say caught in his throat.

It was a spectacle, to say the least. The room was in utter disarray. Bottles and glasses and cans littered the floor along with various items of clothing. Byron's antique desk had a fine layer of white powder also known as Bolivian Marching Powder covering the surface, but Angel didn't notice any of this. What he did notice was his best friend on the bed. He also noticed the girl with him.

"Courtney." He hissed. She looked up from what she was doing. She merely smiled. Angel didn't wait for any more reaction from them, but instead bolted down the stairs and outside to his bike. He took a hefty swig from the bottle and then got back onto the bike. He revved it up loudly, before taking off down the driveway.

Sunnydale.

"Lindsey, hi!" Buffy called. She had, truth be told, been waiting all weekend for Monday morning so she could see the new boy again.

"Hey Buffy, how was your weekend?" He asked her.

"Oh, nothing special. But I enjoyed Friday night at Blitz." She smiled shyly.

"I'm glad. Echo really likes it here. But she was worried the other night. There was this couple who turned up completely hammered. She can do without headaches like that."

"Yeah, I bet." Buffy said, suddenly very uncomfortable. Then, Angel showed his amazing powers of timing when he came skulking around the corner.

"That's the guy!" Lindsey said to Buffy. Angel looked like a wreck. His hair was mussed and he was unshaven. His shirt was so creased it looked like he'd slept in it, while Buffy was sure that the leather trousers were the same ones he'd been wearing constantly. Twinges of concern went through Buffy, but she tried to dismiss them. Angel wasn't her problem anymore, she told herself.

"What a dropout loser." Lindsey said.

"What?" Buffy pulled her attention back to him.

"That guy."

"Oh. He's..." She stopped herself abruptly.

"Do you know him?"

"Yeah." She said. "I have to go. See you later." She said hurriedly, not wanting to have the Angel Conversation with Lindsey. She went off down the hall, leaving a bewildered young man staring after her.

Angel leaned heavily against his locker. Again, he had spent the weekend trawling bars with Bebe and again, it hit him harder than ever. His limbs felt heavy and old, and it was all he could do to keep his eyes open. He fiddled with the combination on his locker, but his fingers wouldn't cooperate with him. He closed his eyes and sighed.

"Hi baby!" A shrill, much, much too loud voice called.

"Bebe." He said through gritted teeth. He allowed her to snake her arm around his waist and plant a kiss on his cheek. Suddenly, the thought of Buffy came to him. It finally registered in his hung-over mind that she had just been talking to some handsome guy. Or rather, attempting to drape herself over him. Irrational anger overtook him. Yes, Angel was jealous and very suddenly, he missed Buffy very much.

Manhattan.

The gin started to kick in quite rapidly, and Angel found himself less able to control the bike as he drove around the elite community in which he lived. He didn't head towards home, but rather drove in the opposite direction. His head began to spin, and suddenly the bike shot out from underneath him. He landed heavily on the grass verge of the sidewalk. Like most drunk people when they get into accidents, he wasn't badly hurt, but his bike had ended up wrapped around a lamppost.

Fortunately, his bottle of gin was still intact. He pulled himself up to his feet and looked around. As luck would have it, he was right outside his Principal's home. Behind the wrought iron gates, Angel spied a gleaming silver Mercedes Benz sitting doing nothing. He pushed the gates open and approached the car. Raging, fiery anger began to overcome him. How dare Courtney do that to him! How dare Byron! How dare them all! The people at the party had clearly known what was going on. How dare they humiliate Angel Driscoll! As the alcohol began to set in, Angel became more irrational. Somehow, he managed to get the door of the car open without setting off any alarms, and with the ease of someone who'd done it before, hotwired the car expertly. He reversed down the driveway and into the street. He took another gulp from the bottle and then roared away down the street, back towards Byron's house.

"BYRON! BYRON!" He yelled loudly, almost falling from the car. "COURTNEY! COURTNEY, WHERE ARE YOU? COURTNEY!" He screamed like Brando in A Streetcar Named Desire. Partygoers began to come out to find out what the fuss was about.

"COURTNEY!!"

"Hey baby," She appeared at the front door of the house. She was now clothed, more or less and came out to him, smiling sweetly.

"Courtney." He said dangerously. "Why did you do it?"

"Well, I was just bored." She said by way of an excuse. "He's nothing compared to you Angel." She batted her eyelashes at him. He almost bought it.

"Get in the car." He demanded. She nodded.

"Sure. Where are we going?"

"Who knows?" He said, smiling back at her. Byron came rushing out of the house.

"Angel!" He shouted. Angel spat at him

"Get away from me!" He screamed. Byron moved back.

"Angel, just..."

"NO!" Angel raged. Courtney was now in the passenger seat of the car and Angel got back in and slammed the door before Byron could get any nearer. He slammed his foot down on the accelerator. The tyres squealed and the car flew away from the house.

Sunnydale

"Buffy, are you coming out tonight?" Cordelia asked.

"No, no I don't think so. I've got a lot of work still to do." She said.

"Are you OK?"

"Yeah, just lots of work." She said. It was true. But also true was the fact that she had barely been able to put Angel out of her mind since seeing him earlier that morning.

"Well, if you change your mind. Lindsey said that Echo was having a karaoke night tonight. Might be good fun."

"Yeah, but I can't sing."

"So? Nobody can sing karaoke." Cordelia laughed down the phone line. Buffy paused.

"I'll think about it."

"If it's at all important, Lindsey said he'd be there."

"It's not remotely important." Buffy replied.

"Yeah. Right."

"I mean it. But I might come down later."

"We'll see you there."

"Maybe."

"Yeah. Right." Cordelia repeated, before putting the phone down.

Buffy did indeed end up at Blitz that night, but not for Lindsey. Simply put, it was easier to go out than face Joyce. Buffy's mother was still in the mood for asking questions as to why Buffy and the disliked Angel were no longer together, and what had he done to her little girl? Buffy didn't really want to answer those questions because she knew that the answers were the exact ones Joyce had been looking for since she'd heard of Angel.

"You came!" Cordelia feigned surprise.

"Yeah. Mom was being all overly." Buffy said in her usual grammatically incorrect way.

"Hi Buffy!" Willow said breathlessly as she and Oz returned from a spin on the dance floor.

"Hey Will." She grinned at her friend. "No karaoke?"

"It's not on until later. Echo isn't stupid enough to turn over the whole night to tone deaf Madonna-bees." Xander told her.

"Hello Buffy, glad you made it." A smooth voice called from behind her. She turned to see Lindsey standing holding a bottle of Coke.

"Hi Lindsey!" She smiled brightly. "I got bored of working." She said. She was about to speak, when somebody approached.

Part 5

Manhattan.

"Angel baby!" Courtney shouted breathlessly over the roar of the engine.

"What?" He asked gruffly.

"Where did you get the car?"

"It's Sir Ronald's." He said. She laughed, a tinkling laugh like a child. It made Angel laugh too, but his was a strange, alien sound to his ears. The world felt very unreal now, and he began to lose confidence in himself. The car swerved wildly.

"Angel, where are we off to?" Courtney asked.

"Who cares?"

"Not me. Let's drive all night." She said, laughing again, this time a harsh laugh like an old crone.

"Why did you sleep with Byron?" He spat out without warning. If she had been able, she would've gone paler than she already was.

"I don't know."

"Why don't you know?"

"I just don't." She became defensive. They had by now arrived on Manhattan itself and drove along towards Harlem and the East River. Angel's driving became more erratic as he became more agitated.

"Why Byron? Why him? Why my best friend?" He asked in a pathetic voice.

"I don't know. He was cute, I felt like it." Courtney said, also beginning to get angry.

"You just felt like it?"

"Yeah."

"So you and me was just..."

"Fun. Come on Angel, it wasn't anything meaningful and you know it."

"Maybe, but you betrayed me!" He said angrily, the car swerving wildly again .

"Oh shut up!" She countered weakly. "I just felt like it. I don't belong to you and I don't have to answer to you." She grabbed his bottle and drank from it for several seconds. She didn't expect it to be so strong, and the world began to swim.

"You're a slut, Courtney." He said.

"I know." She laughed again. He growled in anger and frustration.

"Can't you take anything seriously?"

"Why should I? That's boring. You should live life to the full!" She said, waving her arms around, narrowly missing Angel.

In the swirling clouds of alcoholic mists in Angel's mind, a single clear thought emerged. Was this really living life to the full? Was driving a stolen car while ridiculously drunk really living? Was Courtney, who slept with everyone and took all manner of substances really living? Was she really happy? The clarity in Angel's mind made him doubt it all. Spike and Dru, his oldest friends, they were happy. But was Angel? If he was happy, he wouldn't be here now, would he? He could hear Courtney talking at him, but he wasn't paying any attention. He was aware of two things now. Firstly, he was very drunk. Secondly, he was driving and very drunk. He knew that these were not a good combination. He summoned every sober thought he could find, for they weren't particularly numerous and prayed that he wouldn't drive into a lamppost.

Sunnydale

Bebe approached Buffy intent on causing the girl at least a little torment.

"Hello Bunny." She said, a bright but inebriated smile on her face.

"Buffy." The girl corrected her.

"Whatever. How are you?"

"Do you care?"

"Sure I do. You were such a good friend of Angel and all, I thought I'd make sure you were OK since you had that big argument."

"Well, I found the will to carry on with life." Buffy said sarcastically. Bebe scrutinised Lindsey.

"I can see that. Oh well. I'm glad you got over it. Especially as Angel got over it so rapidly. It's as if he didn't really care about you." Bebe added maliciously. Buffy merely smile and turned back to her friends.

Angel was propped up against the bar when Bebe came over. His head was still hurting, and he was limiting himself on the amount he drank. Or trying.

"Hey, I just saw that silly Buffy girl off with some young guy." She said, hoping to get a rise out of him. He had barely spoken tonight, and she was looking for any kind of reaction.

"Really?" He asked tiredly. Bebe nodded. She noted with glee that Buffy and Lindsey were now on the dance floor, dancing a little closer than most friends do.

"He can't dance though." She said, noting with glee the fire in Angel's eyes as he observed the dancing couple. He emptied his glass swiftly and went over.

"Buffy," He slurred. She turned to him coldly.

"What do you want Angel?"

"I wanted to ask you to dance." He said.

"No." She turned back to Lindsey.

"You'd rather dance with this guy than with me?" He asked her.

"Well... Yes." She nodded.

"Why don't you leave her alone, OK?" Lindsey put in. The Irish in Angel was up and his temper flared.

"What's it to do you with you?" He raged drunkenly at Lindsey. He shoved Lindsey, who reeled back.

"Hey! I'm not trying to cause trouble, OK?" Lindsey tried to stay calm, but with Angel in his worst kind of temper, it was hard. From the sidelines, Spike and Dru watched with alarm and horror. They'd seen this happen to Angel before.

Manhattan.

Angel didn't quite know what was happening. Courtney was screaming at him, waving her arms wildly.

"I wanna get out!" She screamed. But there was no place for him to stop. He continued on, hoping that she'd shut up.

"Lemme out! Lemme out! Stop the car!" She screeched. His head was fuzzy, and he didn't know how to respond. He was taken completely by surprise when Courtney grabbed the steering wheel. Instinct made Angel slam his foot down, but instead of finding the brake, his foot made contact with the accelerator. The car shot forward even faster than it had been, swerving wildly as Courtney pulled at the wheel. Angel watched, oddly detached, as if watching from a distance. He felt the car smash into the barrier, and then sail down silently into the darkness below. He heard Courtney's scream as the car hit the water.

The Mercedes began to sink quickly. Angel wondered what he was meant to do. The door wouldn't open with so much water pressure behind it. He pushed the electric window button, and to his surprise, it worked. Briefly. The window was half down when the electricity failed. Water rushed in and as the pressure equalised, he managed to open his door. He made a grab for Courtney's hand, but she was flailing around wildly, screaming and utterly hysterical. He went to take her hand again, but she pulled away. He tried to grab her one last time, but she was stubborn and the car was sinking further down. What little air there was had almost run out, and he found himself pulling himself out of the car. The cold water and the shock had sobered him up almost entirely now, and he swum for the surface. He would just get some air and then go back for Courtney.

He finally found his way to the surface and gasped as his lungs tried to fill with air. His legs ached and he found it hard to keep afloat. He continued to breathe heavily, but noticed several cars on the cliff above, who had obviously seen the car drive off into the river. Within just a minute, the flashing lights of a police car joined them. Angel's head was still fuzzy, and combined with shock he remained merely floating for a minute or two.

"Hey!" A voice called to him.

"Help!" Angel called back. "Help us!" Us, of course! Courtney. He swam a little, searching for Courtney in the darkness, hoping she'd gotten out of the car. He couldn't see her. He couldn't even see any sign of the car now. He felt himself dragged from the black water by a policeman who had swum out to him. He lay in a state of utter shock as more police arrived, as an ambulance arrived and as they began working to find Courtney.

"Courtney. Have you found Courtney?" He asked, still in a daze. Nobody would tell him anything, and once they'd asked him his name and other such details and breathalysing him, had more or less ignored him. He didn't blame them. He was clearly scum, he told himself.

"Angel! Angel!" A voice called.

"Mommy?" He called softly. Anne Driscoll, wearing a thick fur coat, came running over.

"What happened, baby? What happened?"

"I don't know." He whimpered as she enveloped him into a warm embrace. Out of the corner of his eye he could see his stern looking father talking with the police and Sir Ronald. Then, he saw the ambulance crew pushing a stretcher. Was that Courtney? He struggled to his feet, and despite his mother's protests, he ran towards her.

"Courtney!" He cried, stumbling a little. "Courtney!" He called again. The medics looked at him sadly. He then realised that the sheet covering Courtney had been pulled right up above her head.

"Courtney?" He asked them in a voice so pathetic that the female medic, on arriving home, would burst into tears when she recalled the voice.

"I'm sorry, son." One of them said, as they took Courtney into the ambulance, before driving off. Angel collapsed onto the ground and the last thing he remembered was his mother's soothing voice before he passed out.

Sunnydale.

A fight was coming, anybody could see that. Every time Angel didn't leave it alone, he risked Lindsey's anger snapping too. Perhaps he knew it too, and wanted a fight. Perhaps he just wanted to feel anything but desperation.

"Buffy, why are you with this loser?" He asked. It was all he needed to make Lindsey snap, and he quickly felt the other boy's fist slam into his face. This, of course, was all the excuse Angel needed and within a second, a full scale fight had broken out between the two. Angel attacked with such ferocity that it seemed that he was some wild, untamed animal rather than a human being. Buffy looked on, helpless as Angel and Lindsey did their best to tear chunks from each other. She recalled the last fight Angel had been in, not long after arriving in Sunnydale. She ran over to where her friends were sitting and grabbed the pitcher of ice water. She threw it over the two fighters and it gave the desired effect of making them pause in surprise. It was all the time the bouncers needed to prise the two apart.

"You're banned from this club." Echo told Angel angrily. Buffy looked at her.

"What about Lindsey?" She asked, suddenly wanting to defend Angel. He hadn't, after all, been the one to throw the first punch.

"He's banned too." Echo turned on her brother with her fury. "And just wait till he gets home." She strode away, leaving the bouncers to turf the two out.

"Come on Angel, let's go home." Spike helped his friend to his feet. Lindsey had done quite a number on him, and his face was beaten and bloodied. Drusilla opened the back door of the car and helped Spike get Angel into the car. They then got into the car.

"What about me?" A whining voice called out. Bebe had appeared from nowhere.

"What about you?" Dru asked coldly.

"How am I going to get home?"

"I don't care. And if you come anywhere near Angel, I'm going to beat you down." Drusilla said. She no longer cared for politeness. Bebe was the cause of this, she was sure.

"Yeah, right."

"Don't push me." Dru smiled sweetly, but her eyes were cold. So cold, in fact, that Spike shivered.

Manhattan

Angel was still numb, even though it was three days since the accident. He hadn't left his room or spoken to anyone except the police since the accident and didn't intend to start. Sir Ronald had expelled him from the school for stealing his car and the police had yet to press charges for anything besides driving while under the influence. He suspected that this was due to his father's influence more than anything. It was clear in Angel's mind that he had killed Courtney, and he wanted to die himself. But his lethargy was such that he couldn't be bothered to actually kill himself.

"Angel?" His mother came in with a tray of food. But her voice no longer carried a trace of affection and instead was cold and without emotion. She left the tray on his desk and went straight out. He knew he'd gone to the edge and fallen off it when even his mother didn't have it in her to forgive him.

It was a full month before Angel left the house and that was only to attend Courtney's funeral. His father had told him not to go, but Angel was determined. He cleaned himself up and put on his best black suit and went with Anne to the funeral. If he saw or felt the angry, hateful glares directed at him, he didn't show it. He stood, showing no emotion as they buried Courtney. But inside, he was almost broken. She was mean, spoiled, forceful, bitchy and he loved her. She was his girlfriend, his obsession and she was dead. She was dead because of him, he was sure. He didn't know that the police forensic team had discovered six different substances in her bloodstream. He didn't know that witnesses had told the police that they had seen Courtney grabbing the wheel. He didn't know this. He did know that she had betrayed him with Byron and then in anger he had forced her into the car. He had forgotten that she had gotten into the car of her own volition, had jumped at the chance. He had forgotten it all in his plunge to the very depths of despair.

"What are you doing here?" A harsh, unforgiving voice asked. Angel turned slowly to come face to face with Byron. All their friends looked worriedly at each other, wondering what was going to happen. They, for instance, knew that Byron and Courtney had been seeing each other behind Angel's back for at least two weeks and that Byron had been after Courtney for much longer. They wondered what Byron would do to the obviously broken Angel. They didn't have to wonder for long. Before Angel could even respond, Byron's fist flew and landed squarely on Angel's jaw. What surprised them though, was that the notorious fighter Angel didn't hit back. He stood numbly as Byron took his anger out on his old friend. Perhaps in that moment, they forgave Angel, for how could anyone remain angry at someone so obviously broken? Indeed, the Thomas family had never blamed Angel to begin with. They knew better than anyone what Courtney was like. When they cleaned out her room, they found a bag of cocaine under her bed. Yes, they knew Courtney. She had never been long for this world.

Sunnydale.

Lying in bed as Spike cleaned up his cuts and grazes, Angel fell to rock bottom once more. He felt the same despair as he had then. He was broken utterly in body and his mind wanted to give up, just as it had wanted to then. But this time, he had a reason not to give up. He just wasn't sure she wanted him anymore. And who would blame her?

"Spike?" He asked.

"Yeah?"

"I'm sorry." He said. Spike looked at him.

"I know. Time to make it up again." Spike said grimly. This time Angel couldn't run. He had to stay in Sunnydale and face the music. This, Spike mused, might be the best thing for Angel.

Part 6

Buffy sat at home and felt much like those kids had at Courtney's funeral. She found it almost impossible to be angry at Angel because he was so obviously in complete meltdown. This didn't, she told herself, mean that she had forgiven him, but it meant that there was the possibility that she might in the future. But she dreaded Monday morning. What was she going to say to Lindsey? She had been appalled by the way he had reacted to Angel. Instead of being the better man and walking away peacefully, Lindsey had thrown himself down to Angel's level. She had been terrified by the savage look in his eyes, and had noted how badly beaten Angel had been. Angel, after all, had drunk so much that his punches weren't the most effective. Lindsey had taken advantage of Angel, and this on its own sickened Buffy.

Monday morning did come, no matter how much Buffy and Angel both dreaded it. Angel's body felt to him like it was breaking down, but the two days he'd spent not drinking had helped. Spike and Dru had helped him over the weekend, making sure he ate enough, making sure he went to sleep and making sure he woke up and helping him with his various injuries. But now it was Monday morning and he had nobody to hide behind. His head still ached somewhat, and his body still felt like it was forty years older than it was, but a long, hot bath and a general clean up had made him feel much better. So it was a neat, freshened Angel who arrived on Monday dressed in a simple white shirt and a pair of black 501s. He still had a clearly visible cut above his right eyebrow, and some of his bruises were visible if you looked at him closely, but he certainly didn't look as bad as he had on Friday. The most disturbing thing about Angel wasn't his physical injuries, but his eyes. Anyone unlucky enough to look into them would see complete hopelessness. Angel's eyes were dead.

Go to the Part 4