With a sigh, Buffy pushed back the living-room curtain and peered out the window. Dusk had long since fallen, which meant Angel could come over to see her at any minute. Unless he'd already left town. Of course, it was entirely possible that he would never want to talk to her again, after the way she had shot him down last night. He'd wanted to resume their relationship, and she had been too scared to give it a try. Had she made the right decision? She had no idea. All she knew was that she felt perfectly miserable, and Angel most likely did, too.

Buffy allowed the curtain to fall back into place and slumped down on the couch. Should she see if Angel was still at the mansion, or just leave things alone? She probably ought to hold firm. After all, she'd been able to move on with her life before, when Angel had left after graduation day. She could do it again. It would just take some time. The one thing she knew was that she definitely was not going to move on with Riley. He'd shown his true colors, and she didn't like them a bit.

The click of the front door opening alerted Buffy to the fact that she was no longer alone. She jumped up, startled. Had Angel returned to see her? She turned toward the door, only to see another familiar face. "Mom, you're back! Duh, obviously. How was your trip?"

"Fine, dear." Joyce stepped inside and dropped her carry-on bag on the floor. "Did everything go all right here while I was gone?"

"Um, yeah, sure." Buffy wasn't about to mention Angel's return, or the fact that he'd stayed several days at the house.

Joyce walked into the living room, peering about. "It *looks* all right."

Buffy trailed her. "What, don't you trust me?"

"Of course I do." Joyce stopped in her tracks. "Buffy, what happened to my fern?"

Buffy thought quickly and decided to go with the honest approach. "It shouldn't be that bad yet. I only forgot to water it...um, about half the time."

"That can't be."

"Well, maybe it was more like 75% of the time."

"Buffy, this plant is absolutely shining." Joyce indicated a healthy green frond. "I've never seen it look so good. To think I was afraid you would kill it from neglect while I was away."

Buffy exhaled a long breath of relief. She didn't know what had caused the plant to thrive, but she wasn't about to look a gift horse in the mouth. "No problem, Mom. Anytime."

"Thank you, Buffy. You did a nice job." Joyce hugged her daughter, but pulled back after only a few seconds to cover a yawn. "I guess I'm more tired than I thought. I'd better go upstairs and lie down."

"All right." Buffy watched as her mother collected her bag and left the room. She looked out the window again. She really *had* been lost in thought before. She hadn't even heard the car pull up in the driveway. Buffy settled back on the sofa again, the better to brood over her problems. She had barely begun when Joyce stalked down the stairs.

"Buffy, we need to have a talk. I want you to be honest with me. I found this in my room, and I want to know who it belongs to." From behind her back, Joyce produced a light blue man's shirt.

Buffy stared at the offending item. She hadn't seen Angel wear it, but it had to be his. She'd allowed him to sleep in her mother's room during his stay. Although Buffy had checked over the room afterwards, she had obviously missed finding the shirt. Trust her eagle-eyed mother to spot it inside of 30 seconds. What could she say? Her mom hated Angel. Buffy couldn't tell her the truth. Swiftly, she lied, "It must be Riley's."

Joyce slowly shook her head. "I'm very disappointed in you, Buffy."

"We didn't do anything," Buffy protested. "And we definitely wouldn't do it in your room if we ever did, which we haven't and never will."

"You're digging yourself in deeper and deeper, Buffy. I know this shirt isn't Riley's. Do you want to try again?"

"Xander's?" Buffy said weakly.

Joyce pursed her lips and turned the shirt around, revealing the name "Angel" stitched above the breast pocket. "Want to try to explain your way out of this one?"

Buffy shrank back into the couch cushions. "Okay, Angel was here. You're right, I didn't want to tell you because I knew you wouldn't like it. He came to town to help me with Slayer business, that's all. I didn't like the thought of him staying in a hotel all alone so I told him he could sleep in your room. He was only here for a few days and he's gone now."

"Back to Los Angeles?" Joyce asked.

"Probably not yet," Buffy admitted. "He went back to the mansion to stay. But if he hasn't left town yet, he'll be going soon. We talked about it. This was just a pit stop for him. Honestly."

Joyce frowned. "I certainly hope you're right, Buffy. I'm afraid his presence can only mean pain for you."

***

Angelus wanted to cause pain to Buffy. Great physical and mental pain. Unfortunately, Buffy was unwittingly doing a better job on him than he was on her. She was in complete control of the situation, while he was spinning his wheels.

He seemed to have lost his touch, and it just wasn't right. Could nothing work out for him? He was out of hair gel, he had ripped his favorite leather jacket, he was starving on his noxious new diet, and he had allowed a teenager--even if she *was* a Slayer--to defeat him. *He* was supposed to be driving *her* insane, not the other way around. He wasn't even 250, far too young to retire. He was near an all-time low.

While he sat, unwontedly discouraged, Angelus heard the sounds of a large vehicle coming to a halt outside the mansion, but he couldn't make himself care. With his luck, it was a school bus jammed full with squalling children come to torture him while he was biteless.

A single pair of footsteps approached the front door, and then retreated. The vehicle pulled away a moment later.

Despite himself, Angelus had become curious. Who had come to his door and left so quickly? He slowly pushed himself out of his chair, crossed to the front door, and opened it. A large black truck was lumbering away down the street, and on his doorstep lay a small parcel.

Curiosity definitely piqued now, Angelus picked up the package. It was postmarked Los Angeles and addressed to "Angel." He promptly shredded the packaging to reveal... Angel's cell phone, of all things. Not something useful, like a vial of human blood or a hair-care product or a dechipper, but a stupid cell phone.

A slip of paper lay half under the phone. Angelus pulled it out and read: "You forgot this when you left L.A. Try to remember how to use it so we can get in touch with you if we need to--Cordelia." Angelus instantly resolved to keep the instrument turned off and buried in the back of a drawer except when absolutely necessary. He quickly suited thought to action and felt much better for it.

Next he turned his mind to his current problems. Though some might seem minor, even progress in small steps would be encouraging.

First things first. Angelus decided to take care of the hair problem right away. Though revolted, he choked down enough pig's blood to keep himself going for a little while. Then he set out for the nearest store, hoping he wouldn't encounter any of Buffy's pathetic friends along the way. If he had to see one more detestable person he couldn't kill, he...actually, he didn't know what he would do. He clearly couldn't do anything nasty and wickedly fun to them.

At any rate, luck was with him, and he arrived at Walgreen's having met no one he knew. Inside, Angelus headed straight for the personal-care aisle. He ran his eyes up and down the rows, searching for the classiest products. Who bought the generic shit, anyway? Not that he intended to do any buying.

Finally, in the middle row, Angelus spotted a lone bottle of L.A. Looks Extra Super Hold Styling Gel. Moving at super speed, he snaked out a hand and deposited the container in his jacket pocket. Security wouldn't have a clue he'd ripped them off. Satisfied with at least that one small triumph, Angelus turned to leave the store, when who should he spot at the other end of the aisle, shoplifting a bottle of peroxide, but...

"Spike." Angelus' lips curled into a grin of pure evil. Thinking quickly, he ducked into the next aisle in an effort to stay out of Spike's sight. He hadn't seen the other vampire in ages. Not since the Acathla incident, which had gone so very wrong in part thanks to Spike's betrayal. Well, to be fair, Spike had also shown up in Los Angeles several months ago, but Angelus hadn't been out during that episode. The upshot was, Spike was cunning and vicious, and made a valuable ally Angelus couldn't afford to lose, especially considering his current circumstances. They had to team up.

Cautiously, Angelus peered around the corner of the aisle and watched as Spike sauntered toward the front of the store. When he was sure he was far enough away to avoid detection, Angelus crept out from hiding. For the next few minutes, he trailed Spike through the exit, along the street, and into a narrow, deserted alley. It was the perfect place to stage the confrontation.

Angelus followed Spike for several more paces, deliberately stepping loudly. As he'd expected, the other vampire swiftly picked up on the noise and whirled to face the intruder. Angelus stopped, as well, and enjoyed the look of surprise that crossed his companion's face. "Where are you going in such a hurry, Spike?"

"Angel. Well, I'd love to stay and chat, but I have a very important appointment with a bottle of peroxide. My last victim told me my roots were showing. That's why she was my last victim." As he spoke, Spike sidled down the alley. Angelus edged toward him, careful to stay within a few feet. "Speaking of hair, maybe you ought to think about doing something with yours," Spike suggested.

Angelus automatically felt his head, and Spike seized the opportunity to dart away. Damn! thought Angelus as he sprinted after the younger vampire. He should have known better than to fall for that old trick again. With speed born of desperation, he surged forward and tackled Spike near the end of the alley, sending them both flying against the filthy wall. Angelus, holding the advantage, pinned Spike from behind. "Nice try, but you can't trick me that easily."

Trapped in a vulnerable position, Spike struggled like a sparrow caught in a hawk's claws. "Let go of me, you wanker."

"Not very nice of you, Spike, to try to insult and run. Is that any way to treat your 'Yoda'?"

Spike tensed and stopped squirming. "Lemme see your eyes." Angelus let up on his hold and held still as Spike turned and studied him. "It's you, Angelus? Not that git, Angel? You're really back?"

"As I stand here, undead and not breathing."

"So the soul's gone off on you? What happened, was Slutty stupid enough to spread her legs for you again?"

"Nope, even easier than that." Angelus winced at the humiliating memories of his recent failed efforts to get into the Slayer's pants. "Actually, a hell of a lot easier. But enough about me. What have you been up to? Where's Dru?"

"Um, not here."

"Well, where is she?"

Spike ducked his head and mumbled something that sounded suspiciously like "Fungus demon."

"A Fungus demon killed Dru?" Angelus bristled. It simply wasn't right that a demon of one of the lowest orders had offed a member of the Order of Aurelius.

"No, not killed her," Spike muttered. "Ran off with her."

"What?" Angelus' lips twitched, but he decided not to rub Spike's face in the truth. The boy obviously felt bad enough already. "Never mind Dru for now. Let's go back to my place and talk in private. You never know who could be listening around here."

"Right, then," Spike quickly agreed.

As Angelus had suspected, for secrecy's sake Spike had stashed his DeSoto in a "safe place" where neither Buffy nor anyone else who mattered would spot it. Therefore, the two walked back to the mansion in near silence, both content to return to safety before they conversed in depth.

Spike chuckled as Angelus led the way to the front door of the Crawford Street mansion. "You're back to living in this hellhole?"

"Yes, thanks." Angelus shoved open the door and gestured for Spike to enter first.

The blond vampire strolled into the living room and threw himself upon the sofa, propping his feet on the coffee table. "So, you take over the town yet, bathe in the Slayer's blood?"

"Not exactly," Angelus admitted as he sat across from Spike on the easy chair.

"What are you waiting for? Let's go get her!"

Angelus held up a hand. "Now, now, you're missing the big picture here. Not everything is about killing Buffy. I have other goals."

"Name two."

Angelus sighed. He had little choice but to take a calculated risk and confide the truth in Spike. "Look, I was in Los Angeles, this bimbo actress drugged me, the drug created perfect happiness, I got free. No one knew, and I came back here posing as Angel with all bad intentions. I was going to torment and kill Buffy, Willow, the Watcher, the whole pack of them. But it turned out that Buffy's new boyfriend, Riley Finn...." Angelus recapped the entire sorry story of the Initiative and the chip in his head. When he had finished, he waited for Spike to stop laughing. While he was waiting, he realized he felt hungry again and he went to the kitchen to get a glass of blood. He carried the glass back to the living room and the first sight that greeted him was Spike, *still* holding his sides and roaring. "You can stop anytime," Angelus pointed out as he set his drink on the coffee table far away from Spike. The laughter didn't quiet even a bit. Finally, driven to the breaking point, Angelus reached over and whacked Spike upon the nose.

The method worked; the younger vampire sat up straight and clamped a hand to his face while glaring at Angelus. "Hey! I thought you said you couldn't hurt anyone."

"Correction, friend. I said I can't hurt *humans*. Other demons are still fair game. If you'd been a little more sympathetic to my situation, I wouldn't have done anything to you." Angelus reconsidered. "Okay, I might have anyway, just for the fun of it, but you gave me a great excuse on top of that. But the point of all this is, since I'm a little indisposed at the moment, I need your help to get back in fighting form."

Spike rubbed his nose. "Why would I want to bail you out, and why would you ask me? Last I recall, I helped the Slayer beat you during the Acathla fiasco."

Angelus nodded. "Thanks for reminding me. Except you happen to be in luck. I'm willing to overlook your betrayal. See, I'm seeking revenge on the basis of 'what have you done to me lately.' You're safe, Spikey. You didn't make the short list. By the time I worked my way back to you, well, I might even be tired of the whole business. Besides, you're family."

"Too bad you didn't think about that before you went about stealing Dru from me," Spike whined.

"Can I help it if she preferred the superior demon?"

Spike jumped up. "That's it, I'm out of here."

"Wait, Spike, I'm...." Angelus struggled to force out the word he almost never uttered. It was extremely difficult for him to verbalize it, but he needed Spike's help so badly, he was compelled to swallow his pride. "I'm sorry."

Spike flopped back down on the couch. "That's more like it. It might be worth hanging around after all. But first, what's in it for me?"

"Free fun, free food, free gallon of the Slayer's blood. It'll be just like old times."

Spike cocked his head and frowned. Eventually, he said, "You know, Angelus, you still haven't asked why I came back to town."

"All right, I'll bite. Why *are* you here?"

"Same reason as you, mate. Revenge."

Angelus grinned. He knew he'd let Spike survive all this time for a reason, and his generosity was finally paying off. "Then we're agreed?"

"We are."