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The atmosphere between the two blondes had dramatically changed by the time Buffy and Spike finally returned to the car. Joyce breathed a sigh of relief when they came into sight, at the visibly more relaxed posture of both of them, their surprisingly joined hands between them – and, well, just at the fact that they were coming back at all.

She had been just starting to get really and truly scared for the safety of both her daughter, and the vampire that she regarded as a surrogate son.

As they reached the car and Spike quietly opened the door next to Joyce, she noticed that while they still seemed a bit solemn and more subdued than usual, they were both much calmer, and the pain that had been so stark and unmistakable in their eyes seemed to have faded at least to a level that was bearable.

She felt a wave of relief wash over her.

It was far from over – but the healing had begun.

“Joyce – would you like to drive for a while?” Spike asked her softly, giving her a warm, reassuring smile, meeting her eyes to silently tell her that it was really what he wanted her to do.

Joyce glanced between her daughter and her mate, trying to read their expressions – and then quickly suppressed her urge to ask if he was sure, if he really thought it was the best idea. After all, the last time she had asked that, worried about the outcome of what she viewed as rash, dangerous actions – his instincts had obviously been better than hers.

She had no way of knowing just what had transpired between them in that motel room – but it seemed to have been a positive step, whatever it was.

She would trust Spike’s judgment on this one.

“Okay,” she agreed without argument, getting out of the car and going around to the driver’s side door, as Spike and Buffy climbed into the backseat – together.

“So – should we call your friends and tell them to go ahead and come home from L.A.?” she asked, her tone mild and conversational, glancing at Buffy in the rearview mirror as she put the car in drive and pulled out onto the highway.

Buffy opened her mouth to respond in the affirmative – and then stopped, her eyes narrowing over an expression that reminded Spike briefly of a look he had seen on the her face when it had been ruled by the Slayer demon – and the vampire was infinitely grateful that this time, it was not directed at him.

“Um – actually – how far are we from L.A right now?” Buffy asked, her tone deceptively calm, the light of an idea forming in her eyes.

“An hour or two, honey – why?” Joyce frowned.

“Let’s go tell them in person. There’s a lot of things I need to – to get off my chest.”

Spike had to suppress a smirk, despite his misgivings, at the fury he saw in his mate’s eyes, felt radiating off of her. The things he had told her in that motel room were not going to be easily forgotten. He knew well the defensive, protective rage that he could sense coursing through her, directed at his sire.

It was the same feeling he had felt – just before he had killed Quentin Travers.

“And – they can’t wait until we get home?” Joyce asked, wearily. She could tell by Buffy’s expression that her daughter had a definite reason for wanting to go to L.A. – but in all honesty…she was just ready to get home.

“The person I need to talk to won’t *be* at home,” Buffy clarified – though it really did not make things very much clearer to her mother, who still had no idea what she was planning.

Still, the look on her daughter’s face gave Joyce the idea that whatever her reasons were, it was very important to Buffy to go to L.A. before they went home – and she decided not to push the issue.

After all she had been through tonight, Joyce would go along with whatever Buffy felt the need to do.

“Okay, honey,” she agreed. “We’ll go there first. It’s nearly dawn. We should be there by about – oh – 7:00ish? And that reminds me, Spike? You’d better go ahead and put the covers back on the windows before the sun comes up.”

“Yes, Mum,” Spike teased her – but he did reach down to the floorboard to pick up the sheets of tinfoil covered cardboard that he usually stuck in the back windows to keep the sun from coming in, obediently replacing them in the windows, as the grey light of early morning began to light the sky.

As he did, he thought about what his mate was planning, wondering how far she intended to take things, what exactly she wanted to do – and if it was a good idea at all.

“He’ll still be asleep, pet,” he pointed out softly as he finished his task, turning toward Buffy and squeezing her hand gently in an effort to calm her obviously still seething anger. “Creature of the night and all that.”

Buffy turned to meet his eyes, a cold smile on her face that sent a chill down his spine, although he knew her anger was not aimed at him. “Do I look like I care if I disturb his rest?” she asked with a dangerous gleam in her sparkling emerald eyes.

Spike smiled, but his own eyes were serious, uncertain.

*’M just -- not so sure this is the best idea, pet…* he confessed softly in her mind, wanting to keep the conversation private, away from the hearing of her mother and sister, who still had absolutely no idea of exactly what was going on.

Buffy’s fiery green eyes sought his, saying more with a look than with her words – full of an anguished pain and outrage at the things that he had suffered, and not only at her own hands.

*I have to do this, Spike…I hate him for what he did to you, and I hate that he walks around acting so self-righteous, like you’re so evil and he’s so good, after all that he’s…*

Buffy’s mental voice trailed off, and she shook her head, looking away for a moment before meeting his eyes again and going on.

*I know it was years ago…I know you’d probably already dealt with it, and wouldn’t be dealing with it again like you are now, if not for what *I’ve* just done…but it’s kinda difficult to beat the crap out of *myself*…and when there’s someone else who deserves it just as much – it’s just too tempting to pass up,* she said, a smirk that was only half-joking coming across her face with the words. *I’ve just got to get this out of my system…okay?*

Spike sighed softly, unable to keep back a soft chuckle at her reasoning, before replying, *Whatever you have to do, love…it’s all right with me. I can’t say I won’t enjoy the look on his face when you come strolling in to his place…all fire and fury…*

From the moment when Buffy had first mentioned going to L.A., he had felt more than a little uncomfortable with the idea. After all, Angel had a soul now, and Spike was Buffy’s mate – not to mention the fact that he was no longer a weak, inexperienced fledgling – so there was no reason to be afraid of his sire, not anymore.

And Buffy was right; he had long ago made a sort of peace with his past, with the torments he had been through to become who he was today -- and the thought of unearthing long buried hurts and shameful memories was definitely not a pleasant one. His instinctive reaction was to ask that Buffy not do what she so clearly wanted to do – that she just let it go and let them all go home.

But the look in her eyes promised pain and humiliation for the dark, soulful vampire – and Spike knew, better than most, that he had had it coming for a long time. Suddenly, the idea of the furious, powerful Slayer going damage bound on his poncy, self-righteous sire was incredibly appealing. A slow smile rose to his lips, as he relaxed back against the seat to enjoy the rest of the trip.

*Who knows, mate?* he thought to himself with a smirk. *This could be a bit of fun.*


“Angel Investigation, we help the hopeless…”

“Um…that’s nice…who’s this?” Buffy frowned into the receiver at the familiar voice that sounded like….but just *couldn’t* be…

“…I was *going* to say, ‘This is Cordelia, can I help you?” the smug female voice continued pointedly on the other line, clearly miffed by the interruption.

Buffy’s eyes widened in surprise. “C - *cordelia*?! What are *you* doing there?”

There was a moment’s silence before Cordelia replied, her voice cooler now, and Buffy could almost see the imperious “Queen Cordy” expression on her face as she said slowly, “Well why don’t you tell me who you are, and I’ll determine whether or not you need to know that?”

“This is Buffy Summers, Cordy,” the Slayer informed her, exasperated. “And never mind. I *don’t* need to know. Is Angel around?”

“Well, actually, he’s a little bit busy at the moment…”

“Trust me, Cordy – he *really* wants to take this call,” Buffy declared, her eyes rolling over a cold smile of anticipation.

“Oh, right!” Cordy retorted, indignation clear in her tone. “Like it doesn’t matter what he happens to be doing at the moment – like he’s just gonna hear the name ‘Buffy’ and drop everything and come running to the -- *ooomfff* -- *Angel*! – oww! Hey – rude much?”

The last part of Cordy’s words sounded muffled and distant, as she was no longer speaking into the receiver. Angel had been standing somewhere within hearing distance, apparently, and had done just as Cordy had been so sure he would not, and rushed to the phone upon hearing Buffy’s name – obviously not taking very much care with his manners in the process of getting the phone from Cordelia.

Buffy wanted nothing more to do with Angel beyond the near-future kicking of his undead butt; still, she could not help the satisfied grin that rose to her lips at his obvious desperation to talk to her.

It would make her utter rejection and scathing disgust with him later, all the more crushing – er -- *effective*.

“Buffy? Are you okay?” he asked anxiously into the phone after a moment.

Buffy rolled her eyes, eliciting a grin to match her own from the blonde vampire beside her, close enough that with his enhanced vampire hearing, he could hear every word being said on both sides of the conversation.

Buffy replied sweetly into the phone, “Yes – finally. Thank you for asking. We managed to beat the Big Bad. Again. How are my friends doing?”

“Fine, Buffy – they’re sleeping. So – what was it? End of the world again? Your friends wouldn’t tell me.” The irritation was clear in his voice at the insignificant mortals’ disregard for his clear right to know about everything that went on in Buffy’s life.

*Good,* she thought with vindictive pleasure. *You walk out on me – you don’t *deserve* to know what goes on in my life!*

“Could have been,” Buffy acknowledged with a nod, not bothering to mention to the dark vampire that her friends’ silence had been at her request. She glanced to the side at her mate, and her expression sobered a bit. She squeezed his hand gently as she added in a softer tone, “Almost was.”

“Sounds bad, Buffy…you should have told me what was going on. I would’ve come right down there to help you. But – I wasn’t sure if you – if you wanted….”

“It’s okay, Angel,” she cut him off in that same sugary sweet voice. “I didn’t.” She barely gave him time to register that blunt comment, which *could* have been taken in a non-hurtful way – not that she intended it to be – before she went on, “But I’d *really* like to tell you all about it in person. Can you – can you meet me somewhere?”

She put just the right note of “vulnerable damsel in distress” in her voice to ensure that Angel would come running.

“Why don’t you just come here?” he suggested, puzzled a bit by her request. “It’s sunrise, Buffy. I can’t go outside until dark.”

Buffy’s lips formed a flawless pout as she resigned herself to allowing Angel the “home court” advantage that she had intended to leave him without.

“Okay,” she agreed. “But – I’d really like to talk to you *alone*, Angel…will that be a problem?”

“No, not at all,” he quickly replied. “Hey, Cordy? Can you…?”

The ex-cheerleader’s shocked sound of disbelief was clearly audible to Buffy over the phone. “You’re asking me to *leave*? Angel – are you even sure she’s not still evil? Xander told me she was evil!” Then after a pointed pause, Cordy added, softer, “Oops.”

“No, of course she’s not…you were evil?” The question, and Angel’s attention, was turned back to Buffy. “You’re not still evil – are you?”

“Yeah, I was – pretty dangerous for a while there – it was a whole big thing. But I’m back to being just plain old Buffy now, honest,” the Slayer reassured him, her words deceptive, without being an actual lie.

“So – you’re not, anymore…dangerous…right?” Angel clarified, his tone suddenly more serious.

Buffy cringed slightly, wondering if she was giving something away without meaning to.

“Not at all, Angel, see you in a bit,” she hurriedly replied, shutting the phone before either Angel or Cordy could come up with any more questions or protests. Staring at the phone in her hand for a moment, Buffy replied with a darkened expression, “Not at all. Only to you – *lover*.”

The soft growl beside her reminded her that others in the car might not be aware of the meaning behind her choice of words – the memories flooding her mind of a time in her life that had been unbelievably painful for her, and so much more so for Spike, though she had not known it at the time.

She gave her mate a reassuring smile, that barely served to soften the warning look on his face, edging nearer to him as she squeezed his hand again.

“Don’t worry, Honey,” she insisted matter-of-factly, leaning her head back on his shoulder. “I’m just being poetically ironical. Or – ironically poetic – oh, never mind. I just meant to say – Angel’s going down!”





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