chapter 18
Clearing his throat uncomfortably as the seconds ticked by, Giles inquired, "So, it was... er, successful?"

Angel's bewildered stare leapt to encompass the watcher; the slowness of the vampire's clouded brain just beginning to supply the necessary information of who the newcomer was and his significance in Buffy's life.

"W-what... success?" Angel managed to get out, fists clenched tightly at his sides as he tried to maintain control of his temper and not succumb to the demon's ire.

Silence followed the question until the ridges began to erupt once more on Angel's substantial brow. A growl of irritation bounced off the high stone ceiling, clearly alerting the others that he was losing the battle

Spike headed past the emotionally labile vampire, stopping only when he had reached Buffy's side. Whatever enchantment he'd been under in regards to Angel was now thoroughly dissolved and he met the other vampire's murderous stare with one of his own.

"W-what success?" Angel growled again, his anger fueled by the acute need to have some of the blanks missing from his memory filled in.

It was Spike who finally answered him. "The success of putting humpty dumpty back together again so they could suss out why you got crapped out of hell, is what. You seem to have most of your precious few marbles back, so yeah. If that can be considered success."

Buffy rolled her eyes at Spike's remark, but didn't try to shush him. "We've got a lot to talk about," she told Angel simply, sparing him a small smile. "And to be honest, I'm not feeling so hot either, so maybe we can do this whole question and answer thing later?"

At her words, Angel's gaze flew worriedly over her slight form until he came upon the marks on her neck. Instinct took over as the full brunt of his demon burst from beneath his skin. He moved forward shakily, ready to ride to her rescue once more and save her from the threat of Spike, despite his own obvious lingering physical limitations.

A quick flick of Buffy's wrist stopped Angel in his tracks before he could reach her. "Just... back off, Angel. I don't need any more testosterone - or whatever it is that gets you vamps all grr and irrational," she informed him, eyes flashing "So this dumb male posturing? Get over it. Yes, Spike bit me."

There was no mistaking the menace in the snarl that was sent in Spike's direction.

"I said, back off!" Buffy repeated. She held his angry gaze for a moment before sighing heavily. "Look, Spike only drank from me so that he could piss you off enough to attack him and drink second-hand slayer." She watched dispassionately as Angel processed her words, the reality of the situation slowly dawning on him.

But damned if she could find it with herself to garner up a shred of sympathy.

"Yeah, that's right. Spike set you up. We set you up."

"He.. bit you," Angel insisted, glaring at the topic of conversation next to her. "Hurt you."

Hurt her? Not likely.

"No Angel, you hurt me. He saved me," she bit back, thoroughly disenchanted as well. Whatever empathy and remorse she'd felt at seeing him broken were gone, leaving her with the comforting knowledge that she'd been given back her true emotions. Because after she had gotten over the guilt of sending Angel to hell, this slow-dawning resentment towards him was of the familiar and hadn't wavered since she'd settled into the land of the unliving with Spike. She couldn't deny being relieved in seeing her ex-lover alert, but the desperation to aid him had long since faded.

Angel's features smoothed out only to leave a morose, tragic, expression in its place that was easily recognizable; Buffy having seen it multiple times before he had lost his soul. Instead of making her nostalgic, it only served to hammer home the rapid healing capacity of her blood.

At the reminder of her willing donation, Buffy began to seriously feel the effects of the sacrifice as a wave of dizziness swept over her. Taking a deep, steadying breath, she turned to her watcher. "Giles, we're going to head back to the house."

Giles looked at her in surprise. "Now?"

"Yes, now. I'm tired. Spike's tired. And I can't really see any reason why we need to stay. You're well-armed," she informed him, gesturing to the crossbow he held competently in his hands.

"What about...er, Angel?" Giles sent a quick look in the vampire's direction, ignoring the confused glower he found there.

Buffy shrugged uncomfortably, knowing she should be feeling... something that Angel was back and on his way to recovery. But she just couldn't find that elusive compassion within herself beyond the generic consideration of his unexpected return.

"Tell him to go take a shower, I guess," she suggested blandly, grabbing Spike's free hand as another wave of dizziness struck unexpectedly.

"You ok?" Spike asked, his face tight with concern when he felt her sway against him.

Buffy nodded, reassuring him with a weary smile. "Yeah. Well, except my head that just keeps on spinning."

He nodded curtly, his own body mourning the loss of her blood. Knowing he needed to get her out of there, Spike turned without ceremony and led her towards the door; her ruined panties still clutched to his neck. He heard her sigh of relief as they passed through the doorway, the stench of neglect fading with every step they took.

"Buffy."

The sound of Giles calling her name halted them just outside the bedroom door.

Snarling, Spike spun around. "Look, she said she was tired, you git. You deaf or something?"

Giles sighed heavily. "No, Spike. I-"

"She's not staying here, got it?" Spike informed the watcher heatedly. "Besides, Hell took its giant vampire-shaped shit on your floor, not ours. Figure that that should be tellin' of something, this being the Hellmouth and all. Things don't happen like that for a reason."

Giles drew himself up, peeved at the unfounded interruption. "I was merely going to suggest some orange juice. She looks rather pale." There was a hint of accusation in his voice.

Spike immediately bristled. "Only did what had to be done," he announced coldly.

"I am well aware of that," Giles replied in a tired voice. "I sent Joyce to the butcher shop for more blood."

"No," Angel injected, his brain finally catching up with the quick paced conversation. "D-don't need anymore blood."

Giles turned to the rehabilitated vampire. "It isn't for you."

Angel blinked in confusion as he tried to comprehend the significance of that remark.

"We'll be at the house if you need us," Buffy announced quietly, allowing Spike to turn her in the direction of the front door.

Angel's head shook back and forth rapidly and another growl left his throat. "No."

Buffy's head whipped around, dark circles painting themselves beneath her eyes. She opened her mouth to once again attempt to communicate the reality of the situation when Giles beat her to it.

"Yes, Angel. They're leaving." Her watcher's intense gaze found hers and he gestured for them to go with a slight tip of his head.

Sending him a grateful smile, Buffy wasted no time in following Spike out of the mansion and toward the shaded manhole cover that led to the sewers and what used to be her home.

And Giles was alone with one significantly restored vampire that had, as Spike had accurately put it, been crapped from hell and dropped on his library floor.

And who really needed to take a shower.

tbc
 

Chapter 19

Deep in her own personal musing, Joyce visibly started when the back door to her home was unexpectedly thrown open, and a smoldering, blanketed apparition barreled into her kitchen. Another time, this occurrence would have given Joyce more than a moment of panic. These days, however, it hinted at a normalcy that was becoming part of her life, especially when her daughter trailed in behind. It had been such a long time since she'd seen Buffy pass through that very door that tears of nostalgia pricked at the corners of her eyes.

Swallowing the lump that suddenly found its way into her throat, Joyce pasted on a bright smile.

"You're back sooner than I imagined. How is Angel?" she asked, searching Buffy's face for desperate reassurance that she had returned home unscathed. The corners of Joyce's mouth tipped downward when she noted her daughter's pale and exhausted countenance, eyeing the twin marks on her neck that were undoubtedly responsible for the unnatural pallor. Even though Joyce had been witness to the fact that it was obviously a mutually satisfying experience, the mere thought that Buffy had been bitten right in front of her was going to take some getting used to - regardless of the circumstances.

Buffy threw herself wearily onto one of the stools at the kitchen bar, watching as Spike stomped out the smoldering blanket. "He's... better," Buffy replied simply. "Do we have any orange juice?"

Joyce nodded, about to suggest that very thing to bring some color back to her daughter's cheeks. She turned to the refrigerator without sparing the smoky vampire a glance and searched for the six pack of Sunny Delight she had stashed a while back. With her head deep in the bowels of the fridge, Joyce heard Spike slide out the stool next to her daughter and suddenly remembered the blood she had picked up from the butcher’s before Buffy and Spike had arrived.

"Spike, I got you some blood, although you probably don't need it for a while," Joyce tossed over her shoulder, leaving the container where it was on the shelf. Finding the bottles she was searching for, Joyce removed one and stepped back from the open door, closing it before opening the bottle for Buffy.

"Oh, Spike, where are my manners? Did you want a Sunny Delight too?" Joyce pivoted and sent the vampire a questioning smile - only to have her mouth fall open with shock, an involuntary gasp leaving her lungs.

It soon became quite obvious to Joyce, who was not a stupid woman, that the bite that Spike had inflicted upon Buffy had been done with care, the scabs neat and tidy.

But Spike had obviously not been given the same consideration.

One side of his neck bore the tell-tale signs of a vampire bite, but it was nothing compared to the chaste matching holes that had been left in Buffy's throat. It almost looked like something had tried to take a chunk out of him, the barely closed-over wound resembling more the bite that a wild animal might make, rather than one supposedly from his own kind.

Joyce observed in horrified silence as Buffy fussed over the vampire, holding napkins to the ragged and bloody wounds in an attempt to get the slow trickle of blood finally ceased.

She suddenly felt nauseous.

"Could use a bit of the blood, if you don't mind," Spike told her, giving Joyce something to do besides look at the injury.

Joyce flinched at the sound of Spike's voice before getting control over her emotions, chiding herself for not having already offered it to him. She met his weary gaze with one of compassion before turning back to the refrigerator to remove the container she'd just left there.

Not knowing how to serve it to him, Joyce merely handed him the container, offering him a rueful smile. "My apologies, Spike. I don't know where my brain was."

"Not a problem," he assured her, removing the lid and gulping the contents down quickly.

Joyce couldn't help but observe him, pondering the surrealism of the entire situation. She had thought she had accepted the reality of Buffy's calling, and more recently, her choice in men, but apparently she hadn't quite come to terms. Because when Spike lowered the emptied container to the counter with a satisfied sigh, Joyce was struck with a sense of finality, that this was the reality of her life now. This life where vampires and demons were the norm, her eyes now well and truly opened.

And her daughter was in love with one of those vampires. And that really was ok.


"Did Angel do that?" Joyce found herself asking, knowing the answer beforehand, but wanting to draw her thoughts away from any other profound realizations.

"Nope," Spike answered evenly, settling back in his chair. "Buffy did."

Joyce could do nothing but blink at his answer before turning accusing eyes to her daughter.

"I so did not, you big, fat liar!" Buffy denied heatedly, her voice reflecting the rolling of her eyes.

Ignoring the name calling, Spike merely smirked and ordered her to finish all of her juice. He heard the sigh of relief that Joyce wasn't quite able to hide in learning that her daughter really wasn't responsible for the massacre of flesh that had taken place at his throat.

"See? Your mum believed me. She knows about your violent streak." Spike took great pleasure in needling Buffy, already feeling better with a bit of blood in him.

"Don't even start," Buffy threatened, placing the empty bottle of juice on the table with more force than was necessary, knowing exactly where Spike was going with his teasing. Desperate to take the focus off of her and the recent carnage she had inflicted in her kitchen, Buffy answered her mother's initial question. "Yes, mom, Angel did that."

Joyce's forehead furrowed with confusion. "But... I thought Spike said he could get him to drink. That it was some... vampire thing. For some reason, I didn't think it would be so gruesome."

Buffy couldn't help but snort at that. "Yeah, right. His great plan was to piss Angel off so that he would get attacked and practically drained."

"What? It bloody worked, didn't it?"

Buffy glared in his direction. "Sooo not the point. Angel could have gone for the stake-age or something."

Spike shrugged her concern off. "Nah, he wouldn't. That would have taken brains. Knew he would act on pure instinct. Besides, humpty dumpty is all put back together again, so I don't know what you're going on about."

Buffy stared at him in shock, her own fatigue fading as the orange juice hit her system. "That, Spike. " She pointed at his neck. "That's what I'm going on about."

Not wanting a fight taking place in her kitchen, Joyce interrupted. "Uh, how did you manage to get Angel upset enough to attack you? I was under the impression he wasn't in full possession of his faculties."

Buffy ignored Spike's snort. "Spike taunted him," she explained.

Joyce appeared thoughtful. "Well. That certainly didn't work when Xander couldn't keep his trap shut. All Angel did was sit there. It was all I could do not to do something violent to get that boy to shut up." She immediately looked chagrined. "Oh dear. I'm afraid that wasn't very nice of me."

"It's ok, mom. Kinda know what you mean there."

"Yeah, well, the whelp is just an irritant. I knew where to stick it to Angel, where it would hurt the most," he commented smugly, settling his hand on top of Buffy's smaller one. "I just went in and made him think that he'd left your daughter here ripe for the picking and I swooped in and had my evil way with her."

Buffy rolled her eyes. "Yeah, like that didn't happen?"

Spike's smug grin took on a leering edge, one eyebrow arching up in frank appreciation. "Used and abused, baby."

"So, he's more with it now?" Joyce asked, eager to steer the conversation away from the vampire's disturbing sexual innuendo.

Buffy nodded after giving Spike a warning look. "Yeah. We left him with Giles. He was all with the talky and everything."

"You don't sound very happy about that," Joyce observed, realizing that their current behavior did not mirror their previous concern.

"I can honestly say that I'm on the side of neutral, if you want to know." Buffy stood up on shaky legs and moved around to the refrigerator, helping herself to another bottle of juice. Gulping it down, she threw the bottle in the recycling bin before turning to face her mother again. "I am glad he's not dust or in Hell, but in the grand scheme of things? He's at the low end of the priority scale."

Her mom nodded thoughtfully, examining her own emotions regarding her daughter's first vampire lover. Nothing seemed changed from her previous detached consideration, her attitude resembling that of her daughter's. But the reappearance of Angel had meant that Buffy was back in her life, and for that, she would be grateful - regardless of the circumstances.

"We're going to go take a nap," Buffy announced with a yawn, interrupting Joyce's musings. "This vamp savage stuff is hell on the metabolism."

Joyce nodded, her eyes drawn instinctively to the vicious holes on Spike's neck as he stood up. She was pleased to see that they were beginning to heal, the bleeding had stopped and the edges were beginning to come together.

"Appreciate the blood, Joyce," Spike remarked on his way out of the kitchen.

She waved off his gratitude. "Rupert sent me for it. I was only following his orders."

He nodded. "Right. Well, still appreciate it." Spike wasted no time in following Buffy up the stairs to the room she had occupied before leaving Sunnydale.

Before her life with Spike.

And Joyce found herself alone, strangely at odds with the solitude - regardless of the fact that loneliness had been her constant companion the entire time Buffy had been gone.

So she decided to cook.

tbc
 

Chapter 20

It was dusk when Joyce took the apple pie she had made out of the oven, the chili she'd prepared hours earlier was simmering quietly in the crock-pot. As she began to tackle the task of cleaning her cooking mess, the doorbell rang. Wiping her hands on her apron, she took her time in reaching the front door, hoping the bell would prove to awaken the slumbering slayer and vampire.



Assuming it was Xander and Willow on one of their unannounced visits, Joyce didn't bother to check through the peephole before she threw it open.



It wasn't Xander or Willow.



"Avon calling!" a bright, chipper voice greeted Joyce, catching her off guard. The visitor on the other side of the door was unmistakable. Even bundled in layers of clothing that were at serious odds with the temperate California climate, the nervous, frenetic energy and mischievous smile were easy to recognize.



"Elaine!" Joyce greeted warmly.



"Hi Joyce! Bet you didn't expect to see us, now did you?" The New Englander whipped her hat off and fluffed her hair.



"You mean you didn't call to let her know we were coming?" Rick demanded, looking at his wife with something akin to horror, wondering just where her brain was sometimes. "Sorry, Joyce. I figured she'd show some manners for once in her life. I should have known better."



Elaine waved him off. "Oh, it's fine. Right, Joyce?"



Buffy's mother found her lips curving up into a smile. "Of course it is. Come on in."



"See? I didn't need to call ahead. Besides, where's that element of surprise if you call to warn somebody you're coming?" Elaine pinned a questioning look on her husband, who remained steadfastly silent. "That's right, there is none." Elaine ignored Rick's pained sigh and shared a conspiratorial smile with Joyce. "Besides, we're practically family," she announced, looping arms with Buffy's mother and stepped over the threshold. "Oh wow, I just love your house." Her eagle eyes missed nothing as Joyce led them into the kitchen.



"Something sure smells good in here," Elaine announced, peeling off her parka. "And you know, it's a bit weird taking off in the beginnings of a snow storm and landing in disgustingly beautiful, warm weather. I'm dying here. How can you stand this heat?"



"Well, you are a bit overdressed for Sunnydale weather, I have to admit."



"I tried to tell her that, of course. Told her to at least leave one layer behind. But do you think she listens to me?" Rick complained, throwing himself onto the barstool that Spike had vacated hours before.



"Where are Spike and Buffy?" Elaine inquired as if her husband had never said a word.



"See? She won't even listen to me bitching about her never listening to me," Rick griped good-naturedly.



"Oh, I listen to you, honey," Elaine replied, batting her eyelashes as she slid into the seat next to Rick. "I listen perfectly well when you have something I actually want to hear." She giggled at his pained snort and leaned over to give him a quick kiss, then turned back to Joyce to repeat her question. "Are Spike and Buffy here?"



Joyce nodded. "Yes. Actually they are asleep right now."



"Asleep? It's... like... five o'clock in the afternoon! Sheesh! Spike, yeah. You expect it. But Buffy?" she shook her head to emphasize her point. "She's back in California for a day and she turns into a lazy slug!"



"Yes, well, they had a rather... trying morning."



Elaine immediately dropped the teasing and allowed her concern to show through, that same concern that had prompted her to get on a plane in the middle of a snow storm and fly to offer her unfailing support, her husband a willing participant at her side. "Are they both ok?"



"Yes. Well, they should be. Buffy said that all she needed was a little sleep and she'd be fine." Joyce glanced at the clock on the stove, frowning. "Although, they have been asleep for hours now. I'm starting to get worried."



"Well, maybe someone should go wake them up?" Elaine suggested. "Make sure they're ok."



Rick tossed his wife a knowing look. "Nice try."



"What?" she cried. "I can't help it if I like seeing Spike all rumpled! He looks so cute when he gets up, with all those little ringlets he has."



"Spike has ringlets?" Joyce inquired curiously.



Elaine nodded. "Damn cute ones, too. That's why he pours all that gel in his hair."



"Tell me again why I put up with you?" Rick questioned, hooking his arm around the back of Elaine's chair.



"Because... you love me?" Elaine sent an impish smile his way.



"God knows why-" His words were cut off abruptly when his wife gave him a swift, hungry kiss.



Observing the affectionate interaction between the couple in front of her, Joyce realized that she had been invaded by a subtle sense of well-being. It had begun to take root the moment she had opened her front door to find Rick and Elaine on her porch and she took a moment to absorb the significance of it. They had quickly become her friends as well, and Joyce knew that they were the only ones, beside herself, who she could trust to have Buffy's best interest at heart. Even Rupert, as concerned as he had been, had hidden motives in regards to her daughter. But these two? Their motivations matched her own.



And she was damn glad to see them.



"Can I get you anything to drink?" Joyce offered warmly once the couple broke apart and had finished giving each other sappy smiles.



"I'm fine, thank you. We got bumped to first class so I made the stewardesses work for their pay." Elaine pressed a quick kiss to her husband's cheek then directed her full attention to Joyce.



"They are called flight attendants, Elaine."



"Whatever. But thank you for the offer, Joyce."



"Do you have any beer?" Rick asked hopefully.



"I believe so." A quick scour of the shelves proved fruitful and Joyce handed him a bottle of domestic beer.



After a few moments of idle chitchat, Elaine's voice becoming increasingly louder in an attempt to awaken her sleeping friends, she suddenly turned serious. "Joyce, don't mess with me here. Are Spike and Buffy really ok?"



Joyce nodded thoughtfully. "Yes, as I said before, I think sleep is all they needed."



"No, I mean mentally ok."



"I think so, Elaine. They both seemed fairly... ambivalent about the whole thing this morning, if you want to know the truth."



Elaine sighed with relief. "Good. Because that would have made me angry, if they had been sad again." At Joyce's questioningly look, Elaine continued, "When they first came to Windmont, they were sad. They hid it well, but that's the truth. Then after a while, they weren't."



Joyce had to blink back the sudden rush of tears that clouded her vision.



"But then when you and Grupert came into town-"



"It's Rupert," Joyce corrected automatically.



Elaine brushed off the name with a nonchalant wave of her wrist. "Whatever. Point is, they suddenly seemed to get a whole lot sadder when they found out that they had to come deal with the mess here." Her gaze hardened as she regarded Joyce. "I don't like seeing them sad."



Joyce sighed. "I don't either, Elaine."



"Jesus Christ, talk about being a drama queen, Elaine." Rick shook his head in wonder. "Could I use your bathroom, Joyce?"



"Of course. It's around the corner."



The moment her husband exited the room, Elaine sent Joyce a mischievous look. "Is Buffy's room right above the kitchen?"



Rick dried his hand on the flowery guest towels before leaving the quaint bathroom and heading back to the kitchen, becoming sidetracked by the gallery of photos on the wall.



Laughing at one particularly amusing picture of an adolescent Buffy, he entered the kitchen with a smile on his face. "Joyce, how old was Buffy in that picture with the clown?"



His question trailed off as he saw what his wife had been up to in his short absence. "What the hell are you doing , Elaine?"



"What does it look like I'm doing?" The broom in her hand told him all he needed to know.



"I can't believe you're doing that here." He shook his head at her audacity, then noticed the conspiratorial exchange of glances between his wife and Buffy's mother, quickly realizing he had walked into some sort of twisted female bonding ritual.



"Well, I refrained from going upstairs and waking them up personally, didn't I? I think that showed some restraint on my part." Elaine sent her husband a 'so there' look and began her task of jabbing the ceiling with the wooden tip of the broom. "Besides, Joyce said she would have done it herself if she had thought of it, didn't you?"



"Well, I might have opted for knocking on their door rather than the ceiling," Joyce admitted with a smile, but her current anxiety over her daughter's well-being was overriding her common sense at this point.



Rick snorted derisively. "You're gonna get it. Remember what happened the last time you pulled that shit?"



"Eh, he wouldn't dare."



"What happened last time?" Joyce questioned curiously.



"Don't," Elaine threatened, pointing the broom handle in her husband's direction.



Her empty threat was ignored. "Spike came running down the stairs and threw her ass out in the snow, is what. It was the funniest shit ever." Rick snickered at the memory. "On second thought, keep it up."



"You didn't tell me that part," Joyce accused, beginning to rethink her involvement.



Shrugging nonchalantly, Elaine took the opportunity to glare at her husband. "That was his fault." She pointed at Rick. "Buffy and I had been out shopping all day and Buffy wanted Spike to wake up so she could show him all the bargains she had got. I couldn't calm her down, she'd drank way too much coffee and was just spazzing. So, I took a broom and knocked on the ceiling a bit. We didn't know that dumbass over there had kept Spike up all day working on some stupid project in the garage and he had just gone to sleep twenty minutes before we got back."



"Yeah, I was in the garage finishing up and I hear Elaine shrieking like there was no tomorrow," Rick ignored the dirty look tossed his way. "So I go running up and I was just in time to see Spike toss Her Tactlessness into the snow and rub her face into it. I bought him a beer for that one." He couldn't help but laugh at the memory. "Should have seen her, with her make-up dripping down her face, screeching, and there was Spike - all fangy and dumping snow on her head. It was priceless."



"You're such an asshole," Elaine informed him, her voice carrying little conviction.



"Yeah, and you're a class A bitch."



Elaine beamed suddenly. "Why, thank you, sweetie."



"Bloody hell. Didn't you learn your lesson last time, Elaine?" An amused voice commented from behind them.



Elaine whipped around, a guilty look gracing her heavily made-up features. Acting on pure instinct, she pushed the broom in Joyce's direction. "It wasn't me."



"Right," Spike drawled.



Elaine opened her mouth to attempt to deny it once more but suddenly found herself with an armful of best friend.



"You're here!" Buffy exclaimed, hugging Elaine.



"Well, duh, silly! Wouldn't be much of a friend if I wasn't, now would I?" she admonished, drawing back to study her friend. "You look a little pale."



Buffy gave a tearful laugh. "Should have seen me earlier."



Elaine turned her attention to Spike, gasping loudly. "What in the hell took a bite out of you? Jaws?"



Before a reply could be made, the doorbell rang.

tbc..
 

Chapter 21

    "Damn, that was a close one," Elaine commented relieved, watching as Spike stalked out of the kitchen to answer the front door, his bare feet slamming noisily against the wood floor.

    "Yeah, especially since there's a huge mud puddle outside instead of snow," Buffy replied. "And that woulda been all kinds of messy."

    "No, that woulda been all kinds of hysterical." Rick took another swig of his beer, ignoring the daggers that were being being shot from his wife's eyes.

    Joyce noticed the way Buffy was eyeing the coffee pot in exhausted desperation and took the hint, filling up the glass carafe with water from the refrigerator door. "Elaine, would you like a cup of coffee?"

    "I'd love some, thanks."

    "Thanks for making coffee, mom. I so need it right now." Buffy turned in Elaine's direction. "Did I tell you how glad I am that you are here?" Buffy couldn't help throwing her arms around her friend and hugging her tight.

    "Well, I missed you, dummy. And I was afraid you were going to do something stupid - like stay here instead of coming home."

    Buffy pulled back and shot a guilty look in her mom's direction, relieved to note that Elaine's comment hadn't been overheard. "We haven't talked about any of that yet, " she told her friend quietly.

   Elaine gave her an apologetic smile. "Gotcha. So keep my big mouth shut about it?"

    Buffy nodded gratefully, ignoring Rick's predictable snort about his wife and the likelihood of her being able to keep quiet about anything.

   Damned if it didn't almost feel like home.

   That is, until the sound of footsteps in the hallway drew her attention and a familiar feeling of anxiety began brewing in the pit of Buffy's stomach seeing Xander and Willow tread solemnly behind Spike. From the tight expression on Spike's face, Buffy knew that Xander must have said something to piss him off again, and she offered her husband a sympathetic look as he stalked past her to throw open the refrigerator door.

    "Hey! There was a beer in here earlier," he growled, whipping his head around to look at each one of them accusingly .

    Rick held up the bottle and toasted him, unperturbed. "Yep, there was."

    Spike glared at his friend. "Wanker."

    Willow stepped timidly into the room, her dismay at finding Buffy's other friends in Sunnydale readily apparent on her overly-expressive face. "Uh, hi."

    "Hi, guys," Buffy greeted neutrally, hoping this reunion of sorts wasn't going to turn into another ugly scene. She'd already had her share of the ugliness and just couldn't seem to muster up the energy for anymore.

    "Uh, we just thought we'd come over and see how you were doing. We stopped by the mansion to see you, but you'd already left. Giles said you weren't feeling all that great."

     "Yeah, well, I'm better than I was earlier." She could feel Xander eyeing the bite mark Spike had left earlier, the accompanying disapproval practically scorching her with its ferocity. Not about to hide the scar from his eyes, she opted to change the subject. "Did you see Angel?"

    Willow shook her head. "No, he was sleeping. In one of the guest rooms though, so that's something. Giles is on guard duty with his crossbow. I guess Angel broke the chains."

    Buffy knew he had, but if Giles hadn't shared the story, she sure wasn't.

    "Mansion?" Elaine inquired neutrally.
 
    "Yeah, Angel's mansion." Willow took a seat in the now-crowded kitchen, offering the older blonde a tentative smile.

    Elaine returned it with one of her own before focusing her attention on Buffy. "He owns a mansion?"

    Buffy shrugged, glancing in Spike's direction for clarification, not sure if she really wanted to know the answer to this or not. "Does Angel own the mansion?"

    "Nope." Spike watched Buffy's face drop, knowing she immediately assumed that the previous tenants had been killed for their property. "I own it."

    "YOU own it?" Elaine gaped at him, wondering just how many more of these little shocks were going to come up over the course of their friendship. 

      "All this time we've been together... and you've never thought to share that little tidbit with me?" Buffy regarded him with a raised brow.

    Spike had the good sense to appear chagrined. "Didn't think it really mattered."

    "Didn't matter?" Elaine echoed, definitely seeing a problem with this. "You own a frikkin' mansion."

    "Eh, it's not a mansion. Angelus is the one who started calling it that. The day we moved in, the ponce jumped on his bloody irritating lord-of-the-manor high horse and deemed it the Crawford Mansion instead of a lowly house on Crawford Street." He caught Buffy's incredulous glance. "What?"

    "How is it that you own it?"

    "Oh. Well, needed someplace to hide out after that watcher of yours torched the factory. Again, thanks to Angelus, I might add."

    "So... you just bought it?"

    "S'wot I just said, isn't it?"

    "No, you said you own it. That's a whole lotta difference when you're evil," Xander announced, flinching from the simultaneous glares that were sent his way from every occupant of the kitchen. "What? Am I wrong in this?"

    Spike sent him a scathing look. "In this case, yeah, you bloody well are. Drusilla wanted it. I bought it. End of story." 

    "Didn't help though, did it?" Buffy asked softly, instinctively knowing why Spike had never brought up his involvement with that particular piece of real estate before and why he didn't particularly want to discuss it now. She knew firsthand how her former lover and Drusilla had behaved with each other after moving into the mansion, and also knew that Spike had definitely not been an equal partner in that squicky equation - mansion owner or not.

    Spike snorted derisively, the pain of betrayal still a bitter pill to swallow. "Not a bit. "  

    An uncomfortable silence settled over the kitchen.  "Is it nice?" Elaine asked suddenly.

    "It stinks." Xander announced firmly, upset with himself for opening his mouth yet again. Making an effort to get along, he pushed off from the wall he had been leaning belligerently against and took the last remaining seat.

    "Yeah," Willow agreed, more than willing to change the subject. "It does stink. Really bad."
   
    "But is it nice?"

    Willow nodded. "If you can get past the smell."

    "Ok... So, my best friends own a stinky mansion in California. This is doable." She nodded to herself, looking thoughtful. "Yep, it sure is. Is it ocean front?" 

    "What's so 'doable' about it?" Rick asked warily, wondering if he even wanted to know.  

    "Hello? Vacation rental? Except without the actual renting part. Because friends don't let friends pay rent, you know."

    "There's my girl. Always thinking about what's in it for her." Rick patted Elaine's hand patronizingly.

   That served to break the escalating tension, even Xander managed to crack a smile. "Would you two like to stay for dinner? I made chili." Joyce opened the cupboard and began removing bowls from the middle shelf. Spike moved her out of the way and took over the task and she sent him a grateful smile. "It's just about ready," she called over her shoulder to the others.

    "Um..." Willow looked at Buffy to garner a reaction, still not sure where she stood with her former best friend.  A happy smile graced her face when Buffy nodded encouragingly. "Ok, we'll stay."

    Elaine got off the stool and grabbed a stack of napkins. "How many places should I set?" she asked. "Is Dilbert coming?"

    Joyce shook her head, not even bothering to correct Buffy's friend and handed her a pile of placemats. "No, I think Rupert is staying with Angel, although somebody might want to take him a plate later. I don't know what there is to eat over there."

    "We can do that," Willow volunteered, glad to have something to do. The feeling of being uncomfortable at the Summers house was foreign and heavy with the unwelcome.

    And she wondered if it would ever get any better.
tbc.
 

chapter 22

    Giles had long since given up hope of locating anything that might resemble food during the hours spent in his glorified baby-sitting duties at the mansion. All he'd managed to uncover was a neglected bag of crushed Bugles, most assuredly left behind by Xander. With his stomach protesting loudly at the unaccustomed inattention, the watcher couldn't help but admire Angel's steadfast constitution that had kept him from feeding, even with the end to his torment within arms reach. But the vampire merely left the animal blood congealing unpleasantly where it sat untouched on the floor next to him.

 

    Spike had been correct from the very beginning, Giles realized. The deliberate starvation had demonstrated the influential presence of a soul. Idly, he wondered if that concrete knowledge would have done them any good beforehand, and quickly discarded that thought. He had done the right thing by locating Buffy, not only for his own peace of mind but also for the part Buffy had played in stopping Angel's slow self-starvation suicide attempt. 

 

    The hours had passed by slowly for Rupert. After Buffy and Spike had left earlier, the energy Angel had previously garnered through Buffy's second-hand blood had deserted him, causing him to fall into a chair with an exhausted sigh. The vampire had wanted answers to a myriad of subjects, but Giles wasn't in the mood for the repetitive questioning that came with Angel's fatigue and had ordered him to rest. His feelings were mixed. Though Angel had obviously been returned from whatever hell dimension he'd been sent to with his soul firmly intact, Giles felt that the vampire had an extraordinary amount to answer for, and it gave him a smidgeon of satisfaction when he saw the pain cloud Angel's face when he'd remembered Jenny's death... and the role he'd played in it. The subsequent pleas for forgiveness were easy to ignore.

 

    Because it just wasn't going to be that simple. 

 

    When Giles had pointed the crossbow at the anguished vampire and coldly ordered him into one of the bedrooms where he could be easily guarded, his demand had been followed without hesitation, guilt making Angel amenable to his every word. Only, Giles hadn't expected him to slumber throughout the remaining daylight hours or he would've had the foresight to pack some food to see him through the day. Or at the very least - his cellphone. 

 

    Now, with dusk approaching, Giles decided it was time to wake the vampire. He'd been unwilling to leave the mansion without knowing whether he would be leaving behind man or monster, and even the lure of food paled in comparison to the firsthand knowledge of what type of devastation a homicidal version of Angel could extract upon an unsuspecting public. So, he'd endured, his stomach grumbling rudely

   

     Apparently the setting of the sun tossed-off the cloak of Angel's need for slumber, and no wake-up attempt was necessary. Crossbow raised and at the ready, Giles watched as the previously deathly-still limbs began twitching and awaited the final verdict of mental acuity.

 

    Amid the dusty but clean white sheets, Angel came to full wakefulness, his murky brown eyes combing the room and telling Giles their own story.

 

    "I thought it was all a dream."  The tortured voice didn't come as much of a surprise.

 

    Anger surged through the watcher, unanticipated, but appropriate. "We all bloody well wish it had been a dream," he snarled, his hands tightening on the crossbow.

 

    A pained sigh bounced throughout the room and Angel swung his legs over the edge of the bed, unable to look Giles in the eye. "I-I don't know what to say. Sorry doesn't even begin to cover what Angelus did -"

 

    "Oh, go take a shower," Giles snapped, unable to listen to another word.

 

    Twenty minutes later, a more sanitary version of Angel silently entered the large front room where Giles had settled once he had been reassured that the  vampire would not be a threat. Giles regarded Angel where he stood in front of the fire, looking uncomfortable in the leather pants and flouncy shirt of his alter-ego, Angelus. The brief reprieve had allowed the watcher to get his thoughts and emotions under control, and his rationality was much improved, hunger aside.

 

    "I trust you are feeling better?"

 

    Angel nodded, eyes downcast as the full extent of the damage he'd inflicted as Angelus thoroughly saturated his conscience once more, making him feel sick. The years he'd endured seeking redemption were now null and void, completely obliterated with one second of pure happiness.

 

    With Buffy.

   

    "Where is she?"

 

    Not quite the first question he'd expected, but Giles wasn't completely surprised, given the protectiveness earlier. "She is at her mother's, I believe."

 

    In a voice far too subdued and respectful to ever be mistaken for his evil substitute, Angel asked, "Is she ok?"

   

    Giles nodded, knowing where this was leading, wondering how much of earlier he remembered before he'd fallen sleep. "As far as I know, she's quite well."

 

    Angel's head snapped up and intense dark eyes captured Giles' own, letting him know that the vampire was completely lucid now, more so than he'd been earlier. "You let her go... with Spike. "

 

    Giles palmed the crossbow he'd just been contemplating setting aside, his own expression hard. "Yes, Angel, I did. I don't feel the need to explain my actions to you, however."

 

    Angel shook his head firmly, his expression distraught at the dawning realization that every horror Buffy'd had to endure was because of him, merely because she dared to love him. "You don't understand."

 

   "No, it is you who doesn't understand, Angel."

 

    "I just... can't have her hurt anymore, because of me."

 

    "I have been an idiot," Giles muttered suddenly, taking a handkerchief out of his pocket and wiping his moist brow. A chuckle escaped past his lips as he shook his head wryly. "I now see why Buffy did not wish to be found."

 

    The confused, befuddled look Angel sent him set the watcher's teeth on edge.

 

     "Found?" Angel echoed.

 

    "Yes, that is correct. Found." His eyes were hard and determined as they regarded the vampire standing before him. "She left Sunnydale, because of you." He deliberately left out Joyce's involvement in Buffy's defection.

 

    The anticipated pain crossed Angel's morose features. "Tell me," he asked quietly, lowering himself into a chair across from where Giles had been sitting. "Ineed to know."

 

    "What do you remember?"

 

    Angel dropped his head into the palms of his hands and sighed heavily, not wanting to think about it. "I remember fighting Buffy," he finally said, sickened that it had even taken place while trying to deny that there was another part of him that thrilled at the memory of almost having Buffy at his mercy. It made it that much harder for him, knowing that his evil side wasn't completely eradicated with the heavy cloak of soul he was wrapped in once more.

 

    "So, you remember Buffy plunging a sword through you to send you to Hell?" Giles sat down, resting his weapon across his knee.  

 

    Angel nodded morosely. "What happened after that?"

 

    "Buffy left Sunnydale."

 

    Angel looked up sharply. "Why?"

 

    "Apparently, because her mother informed her that if she left the house to save the world from your intent to send it to Hell, then she was not welcome back in it."

 

    Mental agony like he'd never experienced sliced through Angel as he put together the missing pieces. "Oh god... and that's when Spike got to her."

 

    Giles sighed heavily, deciding to get it over with quickly. "Yes, that was my immediate reaction when I learned of his involvement. However, I do not know the exact sequence of events, but evidently..." he paused, not sure exactly how to put it into words. "that was not the way it occurred. He didn't 'get' to her, as you put it."

 

    "No, Giles, you don't understand..."

 

    "Yes, Angel, I do understand, quite clearly. They... have a life together."

 

     Shaking his head violently, Angel argued, "No, I just can't accept that. Spike is-"

 

    "Quite frankly, I don't care if you accept it or not. As far as you're concerned, Buffy is no longer your business." He settled back in his chair, his expression grim. "Do you know that it was an entire year before we located them? A year, Angel. A year of worrying if she was suffering. A year of nightmares for her mother."

 

    "Where?" the vampire asked quietly.

 

    "New England."

 

    A look of surprise froze on Angel's face. "New England?" He'd been expecting something like New York... and couldn't help but wonder what evil Spike had found to get himself into in New England.

 

    Giles nodded knowingly, it had been a shock for him as well. "Yes. And when Joyce and I were rude enough to just drop on her doorstep, we expected the worst. Truly, I expected to find a hollow shell of my slayer. Yet, I did not. Rather, Joyce and I found her with a job, a house, friends - and a man she referred to as her husband."

 

    The growl was expected. "Spike," Angel bit out. "But you-"

 

    "Yes, Spike," Giles interrupted, shifting the crossbow meaningfully. "Now, I am going to spare you the same mistake that I made, and that would be assuming the very worst of the situation. I most likely caused irreparable damage in my relationship with Buffy because of my unwillingness to believe in her ability to think for herself and I am not about to see her in any more pain if I can help." He leaned forward intently. "I am only going to say this once. Spike and Buffy are a couple. It took me longer than it should have to see that, but now that I have, I will not stand by while you cause her even more pain. The only reason she is back in Sunnydale is because I requested her assistance in dealing with you. I have no idea if they will be staying or not. But while they are here, you will not add to their problems, do we understand each other?"

 

    Angel sat and regarded the Englishman, his brain working to process this latest bit of information. He knew Giles's mindset when it came to demons, and for him to support the relationship... Coupled with the words he remembered Buffy speaking to him earlier, a picture was beginning to form in his head. One that disturbed him greatly.

 

    "I need to see her."

 

    The watcher looked wary.

 

    "I need to see for myself that what you say is true."  Angel's face held a stubbornness that had not been present earlier.

 

    Giles studied the vampire to gauge his sincerity. "Very well," he agreed, rising to his feet and gestured towards the ornate doors leading to the outdoors and to the car that was parked in the driveway.

 

    As they walked out into the mild winter night, Giles hoped he was not making an error of huge proportions. But once his stomach reminded him again of the prolonged neglect, he found himself looking forward to the apple pie that Joyce had mentioned baking.

 

    And maybe once his stomach was sated, they could begin to process why, exactly, Angel had been brought back.

 

tbc...
 

Chapter 23

Dinner passed by in a semi-awkward blur, with Joyce and Elaine the only two truly at ease. As far as Buffy's mother was concerned, she had her daughter sitting at her table again for the first time in a year, so all was right with the world. Anything of a negative nature just refused to register.



Willow and Xander remained unusually silent during the meal, both feeling the widening gap of friendship between themselves and Buffy broadening with each new topic that was introduced and discussed. It was becoming increasingly clear that Buffy had changed a lot since she'd been gone, more so than they had even realized, both finding they now shared little in common.



It was beyond the weird, to say the least.



It was Rick who had managed to somewhat alleviate the obvious discomfort, drawing Xander into a conversation that revolved around tools and woodworking. Willow couldn't help but stare at her best guy friend in shock, not even knowing that Xander knew what an electric drill was, much less how to wield it in a productive manner.



By the time the table was cleared of the dinner plates, Buffy was finally feeling more like her normal self. The deficit of blood that had been created earlier was no longer a concern, her red blood cells having multiplied like the good, little, supercharged slayer cells they were. Now with food and coffee in her system, she had to admit she was feeling pretty good. Better than Spike , she thought, regarding him with concern. His usual pale skin held an extra edge of atypical pallor - even given his undead status - and that concerned her. Especially knowing that he had already consumed what she felt was more than an adequate amount of blood from the butcher's shop. Blood that should have done the trick to replenish his own depleted stores.



Well, now that she was feeling better, she knew exactly how she could aid him with that little problem, she thought, trying to hide the secretive smile that insisted on playing across her lips.



And damned if she wasn't looking forward to it, especially given their little tryst earlier at the mansion. She had gotten off - he hadn't, and that just wasn't acceptable. Or at least that's what she tried blaming her lusty thoughts on. But that episode in front of Giles and her mom had held a different flavor, one that she wanted to get another taste of. Aside from that time when he'd claimed her in the elevator and again when she'd forced him to feed from her just after they had left Sunnydale, Spike's fangs had only pierced her flesh during the peak of passion, when his bite would most assuredly send her over the edge into sheer orgasmic bliss.



It had never been the other way around. Never fangs first, then hot sex. Almost as if he was too afraid of reminding her of what he was. But, oh yeah, Buffy definitely wanted a very up-close and personal reminder of exactly what he was - and better yet, how much she enjoyed that grrr aspect of him.



Just as soon as they went to bed...



"I know what you're thinking about," Elaine teased in a sing-song voice, breaking Buffy from her increasingly lust-addled reverie.



"Huh?" Buffy blinked rapidly to clear her mind and get herself back to the present, a touch of crimson staining her cheeks at the knowing smirk she caught Spike throwing her way.



"Welcome back to the present, Miss. Spacey Casey." Elaine winked in Buffy's direction. "So... what do you think?"



Buffy looked around the table, realizing she had missed out on something. And obviously a big something, noting the expressions on Willow and Xander's faces. Buffy recognized the amused tilt of Spike's head and his exaggerated, deep inhalations, knowing she would receive no help from him. Her eyes narrowed as she stared at him, her look clearly threatening retaliation. Well, later, anyway.



The silence stretched on until it breeched the barrier between comfortable and the not so much, and Buffy finally sighed, realizing she was going to have to admit her mind was elsewhere.



Like fang-deep in the gutter elsewhere.



Just as she opened her mouth to admit the truth, Willow saved her from a world of unmerciful teasing. "Um, you know, what do you think about your mom and... someone named Dr. Adler?"



"Oh, that," Buffy bluffed, loving Willow at that very second. But her relief at being clued in suddenly gave way to the dawning horror of the true subject matter, and she turned to Elaine in shock. "You're trying to set my mother up - with Dr. Adler!" she demanded, eyes wide with disbelief. "He's my boss! I work with him! I can't believe you! I leave town for one day and you're playing matchmaker with my mother?!"



Elaine's face broke out in a big smile, finding Buffy's outrage highly amusing. "I had nothing to do with it, dear friend of mine, which you would have known if you hadn't been sitting there daydreaming about the very sexy hunk of dead man over there."



"I wasn't!" she immediately denied, color rushing to her face once more. "Ok, fine, maybe I was," Buffy finally conceded, ignoring Xander's muffled groan at Elaine's terminology. "But that is so not the point here. Make with the major spillage and like, now ."



"Buffy, it's not a big deal. Really," her mother injected when Elaine refused to answer, just continued to sit there amused. Buffy whipped her head around to stare at the woman who had brought her into the world. Judging by the pleased look on Joyce's face, Buffy realized that it was, in fact, a very big deal.



"Elaine was just informing me that Dr. Adler called her regarding a league matter - and that he just happened to ask a few questions about me while he had her on the phone."



Her mom managed to give her another clue on the importance front with the poor attempt at feigned nonchalance and Buffy looked at Elaine suspiciously. "What kind of questions?"



Elaine shrugged. "Oh, you know. The normal kind. Her bra size. If she was the type of loose woman who gave it up... if he went to the trouble of taking her someplace nice. The usual."



Ignoring the snickering of the vampire seated next to her, Buffy glared at her friend. "You realize that you are in no way ,whatsoever, amusing? You know that, right?"



Elaine burst into loud, infectious laughter. "God, you should have seen your face." she grinned at Buffy, ignoring the icy glare sent her way - she knew there was little ire behind it. "He just wanted to know what her sitch was. If she involved with Dinglebert or not. If she'd be coming back to town. You know, the sort of questions a man asks when he meets a woman he's interested in."



Before Buffy could respond to this latest revelation, she tensed at the sound of a low knock on the front door, hearing the knob turn and the door swing inward.



"Er, Joyce?" a voice called out, one that Buffy easily recognized as belonging to her watcher.



"Ah, speaking of all things that go Dingle Dingle in the night," Elaine announced cheekily. "The man does have impeccable timing, I must admit." She turned around her seat and called over her shoulder. "Yo, you're just in time for pie. Better chop chop in here before Spike eats it all."



Joyce stood up to get another plate from the kitchen. "Have you eaten? There is chili left," she asked as Giles stepped into the dining room. The look on his face immediately making Buffy wary. She hadn't been away long enough to forget Giles and his 'but' face. There was a 'but' around here, she was sure of it. She wondered idly if something had happened to Angel.



"You're wearing your 'but face ', Giles. What's up?"



"Butt face?" Elaine echoed, perplexed. "As in, 'ass face'?"



Buffy rolled her eyes at her friend, not even bothering to shush the snickering vampire next to her. "No, silly. 'But face' as in 'oh sure, Buffy, everything is fine... but .' And that 'but' has never led to anything good, let me tell you. I've grown to fear Giles' 'but face.'" She turned to stare at her watcher. 'So what's the 'but' this time?"



It was at that moment that Angel stepped into the room behind the watcher.



"Ok, not exactly the 'but' I was expecting, since I figured I'd get a bit of warning," Buffy commented dryly, crossing her arms defensively over her chest. "You could have called and made with the warn-age, you know, Giles."



Giles ripped his glasses off in consternation, sighing heavily. "Yes, well, if I had remembered to bring my cellular telephone with me, I most assuredly would have."



Buffy nodded her understanding, tensing for the anticipated verbal assault from her thus-far silent ex-boyfriend. The next few seconds of silence proved to be excruciating, and for the first time in over a year, Buffy actually found herself thankful for Xander's and his big mouth



"What in the wild world of flaming frijoles is dead boy doing here?" Xander yelped, his eyes wide with confusion as he stared at the posture-deficient vampire slouched in the entryway, before his gaze flew wildly around the room, searching for an answer.



Giles sighed heavily once more, the tension growing more palpable by the second. "Joyce, I do believe that I will take you up on your offer of chili."

tbc
 

Chapter 24



Not appreciating the tension that Angel had brought into the house, Joyce nodded curtly in Rupert's direction and motioned for him to accompany her into the kitchen to obtain his missed dinner - but not before giving the interloper a harsh, warning look.

Xander's face was a study of confusion as he stared at the vampire whose appearance had changed beyond the dramatic since seeing him chained up at the mansion just mere hours before. His eyes flew around the room to search for the slightest hint that would help him solve this mystery, realizing that the others present did not appear too surprised by the dramatic transformation.



Willow caught his probing glance and the two teens shrugged simultaneously, both realizing that there was a loop that they'd obviously been kept out of. An uncomfortable thought began churning in Xander's mind, and with an unexpected burst of keen observyness, his suspicious gaze latched onto the small, healing marks that he had noted on Buffy neck earlier. Taking the time to study the pair together, Xander quickly found his eyes traveling unbidden to the mangled version that Spike bore on his own throat.



In an instinctive attempt to repress earlier that evening, Xander had not given Spike's jagged wounds much consideration beyond the juvenile gratification that something had managed to take a chunk out of the vampire - and he'd just hoped there had been lots of pain involved; his sole focus had been on the healing wounds of his friend. But something about the situation was beginning to stink here and Xander didn't like it one little bit.



Xander's eyes narrowed as his head volleyed back and forth between the two intense vampires and Buffy, a feeling of nausea suddenly overwhelming him as his brain made the connection.



"Ok, now why am I getting a seriously disturbing visual of chain-fanging here?" Xander finally couldn't help but demand, his hands fisting tightly on the table.



The guilt that jumped into Angel's eyes answered his inquiry and Xander became outraged upon further inspection of the damage that had been done to Spike. He may not like Spike or this entire situation, but at least the bleached bloodsucker had taken care of Buffy, which is a whole stinkin' lot more than he could say for Dead Boy.



Unable to ignore the hard looks that Buffy's two friends were sending him, Angel kicked himself for giving into his haste to get to Buffy's side. He could feel the hostility grow until it was almost a tangible, living thing. And the worst thing was that Angel knew he deserved every single bit of it.



Didn't mean he had to like it, though.



A heavy sigh pushed its way out of unused lungs as Angel pondered how best to proceed. He didn't know who the other two people were, and didn't really care. Right now, he just wanted to do what he came here to do. Namely, talk Buffy out of whatever disillusionment she was under. Because he still wanted her, dammit.



Making a determined effort to ignore the two teens trying to stake him with pointed glares alone, Angel focused on the girl he knew he had betrayed, yet still couldn't help but love.



God, she was beautiful.



With a tortured sigh, Angel found himself uttering her name softly. "Buffy..."



"Angel," she replied as impassively as he had been emotional, unconsciously leaning into Spike, craving the calming influence that his body brought to her. She could feel the tensely coiled muscles against her in obvious response to his elder's presence, and her hand found its way to his knee, giving it a squeeze of reassurance.



They shared a brief, tender smile.



Buffy knew why Angel was here, a blind person could see the reason on his ineffective, tortured face. But she just couldn't give Angel the reassurance he obviously wanted. That gift of acceptance back into her life. The truth was, he had no place anymore.



Feeling the heavy weight of his searching, pleading stare, Buffy waited for Angel to continue, but the silence stretched on while the souled vampire tried to find the words he needed to convey the emotions he was currently experiencing.



"So, this is Jaws?"



Buffy turned to look at her friend, seeing the worry lurking behind Elaine's heavily made-up eyes at the return of mucho tension and badness that involved Angel's appearance. She nodded and smiled with a small hint of amusement. Elaine always had the best timing. "Yep. This is Jaws, alright," Buffy replied.



"Jaws?" Angel's brow was heavily furrowed as he stared at the blonde stranger seated at the table.



"Yeah, Jaws. You know... that monster with big, pointy, sharp teeth that tears people apart who don't deserve it?" Elaine informed him pointedly, leveling him with a hard look.



"Elaine!" Rick shook his head at his wife's audacity, yet again. "Jesus Christ, can't you keep your mouth shut for once?"



"What? Am I wrong?"



Rick merely shook his head and muttered under his breath, knowing arguing with her was an exercise in futility.



"I heard that, you know," Spike commented with a knowing smirk from across the table, unable to prevent the snicker that escaped. "Wouldn't go saying that one out loud. Well, not if you want to live to tell about it, that is."



Elaine gasped loudly and rounded on her husband. "What did you say?"



"Not telling you."



"Oh, you'll be sorry for that one, buddy boy," Elaine threatened, but her menacing look lacked the necessary conviction to cause Rick's guard to truly go up.



Angel was growing more confused by the moment. This reunion had not gone at all like he'd hoped. To see Spike, of all things, seated so casually at Joyce's table, eating pie and at obvious ease with the situation was wrong. Just... wrong. He knew the man who Spike had been joking with and the loud woman were human, but he didn't recognize them as being from Sunnydale.



So, who the hell were they?



And better yet, why were they so obviously well-acquainted with Buffy?



Nope, this wasn't going the way he had hoped at all. Yeah, so he'd expected some lingering resentment from the people he'd... ok, tried to kill before, but this was ridiculous.



Angel crossed his arms in front of chest, his shoulders rolling forward even more in an unconscious attempt to make himself as inconspicuous as possible, especially given the derisive inspection he could practically feel the strange woman giving his attire.



One thing he could not deny. Angelus had horrible taste in clothing.



Needing to get this over with, Angel raised his eyes to Buffy, doing his best to ignore the other vampire glued to her side. "Can I talk to you?" He waited a beat. "Alone?"



"Yeah, like that is so going to happen," Xander interjected before anybody could say a word, his face indignant. "Not."



A low growl cut off any further sputtering from around the room, and everybody's attention was directed to Spike, whose intent, amber-tinged stare was glued to his grand-sire's.



"Not bloody likely," Spike bit out.



This is what Angel had been looking for, an opening. This was something he was familiar with - talking down to Spike. "I think Buffy can speak for herself, William. "



Buffy's chin shot up at his condescending tone and she glared at her former lover. "That's right, Angel, Buffy can speak for herself. And Buffy says that it's not going to happen."



"Ooh, keep that up, Buffy." Elaine rubbed her hands together in anticipation. "You know how much I like watching Spike when he's doing that possessive, growly thing."



"Would you just shut up, Elaine?" Rick shook his head in wonder. "Did you ever think of maybe minding your own business for once? In your entire life?"



Elaine looked thoughtful. "Well, no. Not seriously, anyway."



"Who are you people?" Angel found himself asking, eyeing the pair incredulously. This was the second time that the woman had interrupted him and he was getting a little irritated by it.



"Oh, calm down, Peaches, and take a load off," Spike bit out, kicking at the empty chair across from him out for Angel to sit in. "Your sulking about is getting a bit old."



Angel had no problem directing his ire at the one he deemed responsible, but managed to lower himself into the chair that Spike had indicated. "Fine, I'm sitting. Now, can sometime please tell me what is going on?"



tbc