Chapter Two

          After checking, and re-checking the cash register Anya was satisfied that the money was safe and Xander was able to drag her from the Magic Box. The gang had agreed to meet back there in an hour, after cleaning themselves up. Buffy complained the whole time she and Willow walked back to their dorm – apparently demon ooze doesn't wash out of cashmere. You'd think after five years of slaying and coming home every night with some form of blood or entrails on her clothing Buffy would have figured out some method of dry cleaning. Then again, Willow thought, Buffy was never very good at laundry to begin with.

          Sure enough, an hour later all Slayerettes were present and accounted for back at the Magic Box plus Christopher who seemed to be wearing the same clothing – cleaned obviously.

          "So," Giles spoke first, "why don't we get down to business."

          Settling down beside Spike on the couch Willow laid her head against his chest, hugging her arms around his waist. Spike adjusted his seat, putting his arm about Willow's shoulder and resting his cheek on the top of her head. Riley sat at the other end of the couch, Buffy at his feet leaning against his legs. Xander and Anya sat side-by-side at the nearest table, their hands clasped between them. Giles had resumed his position behind the counter and Angel now leaned against the wall, Christopher beside him.

          Willow's eyes swept over her friends "Everyone all comfy?" Heads nodded and a few of her friends mumbled a response. "Fabulous. Now we can get this party started."

          Angel grinned at the redhead. "Actually Willow, I came here to see you. Only you."

          Perplexed, Willow glanced from Buffy to Giles to Angel then back to Buffy. "I don't get it," she said.

          "Jeez Wills," Buffy laughed, rolling her eyes. "For the brains of this operation you sure are slow sometimes."

          "Not slow," Willow corrected, "just thrown off by surprises."

          "Oh, of course."

          Willow narrowed her eyes at the Slayer. "I'm not liking that sarcasm, missy."

          "Willow? Could we focus please?"

          Turning her head Willow pinned Angel with the same look. "Don't even get me started on you, Mr. Broody-man."

          Chuckling, Angel lifted his hands in surrender. "I yield. Now, if it's alright by you, I'd like to get down to business."

          Shrugging, Willow relaxed against Spike and heard him still chuckling under his breath. "Just so long as you keep things copacetic."

          Willow cringed the moment the word 'copacetic' left her lips knowing, immediately, that her friends would start singing.  They didn't disappoint.

          "And you just don't get it you keep it copacetic, and you learn to accept it you know it's so pathetic."

          Looking at Spike whose face was red with laughter Willow asked, "Why didn't you stop me? You knew it was coming and yet you let it happen."

          "Sorry, love. It's just so damn funny."

          Once Buffy, Xander, Anya and Riley wrapped up the last chorus and Giles, Spike, Angel and Christopher stopped laughing long enough to breathe – though Spike and Angel don't technically breathe – Willow managed to squeeze in her question again: "What are you doing here, Angel?"

          "We need you in LA," he answered.

          "Why? Whatever it is I'm sure it can be handled from Sunnydale."

          Angel ran his fingers through his hair, which meant he was nervous. "Not exactly."

          Willow was now intrigued, and annoyed that Angel kept dodging a direct answer. "What's the problem?"

          "Oz."