Buffy exited from the right of Xander's car, rushing her good-bye's and thank-you's as she hurried up the steps to her house. Willow shouted out a "good luck!" before Xander sped expertly onto the street. Glancing at the new neighbor's house, she noticed the red convertible parked awkwardly in the drive-way as well as a less-spectacular car next to it.

Not so rich, after all.

She didn't know why money mattered so much. Scratch that -- money didn't matter to her, but she did continually distance herself from those who had too much. The rich-phobia in her eased down a bit before she took out her house key and entered her house.

Immediately, she heard laughter. Her mother's and an unfamiliar female's hearty laugh carried throughout the house as she carefully walked through the hall way and into the kitchen.

She noticed her mother at table, sitting next to a woman with dark brown hair. At the sink was a tall man, washing something.

Dishes, probably. Hopefully.

Buffy couldn't tell if he was the husband or friend or son or what -- the back of his head was the only thing that told her he was male.

Mother and son, her mother's voice echoed through her head. Her son probably goes to your school.

Buffy put the keys inside a nearby container and walked over to the table. Inside her mind, she wondered how she could forget what her mother had told her just last night. The same thing happened with the flowers this morning.

Joyce turned to her daughter, laughter dancing in her eyes. "Ah, Buffy, you made it." Buffy smiled tightly as the other woman at the table stood up. "Meet Ms. Rodriguez."

"Just Alice," she said with a smile. Buffy uttered a 'nice-to-meet-you' and shook her hand.

"These are for you." Buffy offered her the flowers. "A little welcoming present, because my mom can't cook."

Alice laughed as Joyce playfully slapped Buffy on the shoulder. Alice turned to her son. "This is my son, Angelus."

He turned around as soon as his name was mentioned, drying off his hands on a dishrag in the process. Buffy held in her breath and watched him curiously as he made his way over. She noted that Angelus didn't eye her up and down like most guys. He stared into her eyes instead of at her chest -- which barely exists, anyways.

"Hi," he said, his voice washing over her like velvet.

"Hi," she answered quietly, hesitantly, his intense eye contact almost making her turn away. Almost.

"It's just Angel," he said, extending his hand out. "Angel for short."

Buffy smiled and shook his hand. He held on a little longer than necessary.

"You wouldn't happen to be Angelcakes, would you?"

Angel froze. His mother laughed loudly -- a little too loudly -- and asked in between breaths, "how did you know?"

"I think I met some of your son's friends," she said, looking over to Alice. "We hung out, and all the guy playing around with Gunn talked about was some mysterious friend named -- "

"Angelcakes," Angel grumbled, shaking his head and chuckling in slight embarrassment.

"I'm sorry," Buffy said, "but I assumed you were a girl. They wouldn't stop using the nickname after that."

He groaned in response, mockingly. "They'll never let me live this down."

"I wouldn't," Buffy agreed. She noticed her mother with a smile on her face, looking at her.

"You want to show him around?" Joyce asked.

Buffy shrugged nonchalantly and walked out of the kitchen. Angel followed, looking around at the pictures hanging proudly on the wall and other decorations which made the home a lot more livelier.

"How'd you meet Gunn?" he asked as he stared at a family photograph.

"He's in my homeroom," she answered, trying to cover the embarrassing picture next to it with her body. "We're home wreckers."

Angel smiled, noticing her attempt to block off a picture. "Home wreckers? Never. These pictures suggest otherwise."

"They're a bit misleading, I should warn you," Buffy said, trying to stand on her tones so that Angel wouldn't see the picture frame behind her. "Let's go to my room. Upstairs. Go."

Angel looked at her with laughter in his eyes. "Why won't you let me see the picture?"

"Picture?"

"Behind you?"

Buffy chuckled nervously. "Oh, that one. Well, you know, it's a funny story. Let's go to -- "

"I get the point," Angel laughed, running a hand through his hair. Still perfect, Buffy thought with a smug grin on her face. "Let's go."

Angel walked up the stairs with Buffy trailing behind him. "You know I'll see it eventually," he said.

"Not if I can help it."

She led him to her room, feeling a lot happier than normal. It might have been because someone was interested in her, and it might have just been Angel's presence. Whichever it was, Buffy realized that she wanted to keep this inner peace with her as long as possible and would do anything to remain this happy forever.

"So, this is my room."

Angel entered cautiously, as if Buffy's room was some kind of unmarked territory. She smiled and walked over to the window, opening it. "And this is the roof I often sit on."

"And sneak out of?"

Buffy stuck her tongue out at him mockingly, in which he smiled. "I'll take that as a yes."

"So," Buffy plopped down on her bed, watching Angel walk around her room, "where did you come from? Before Sunnydale?"

"I always lived in Sunnydale," he answered, playing with a stuffed pig she kept on her dresser. "Only…I used to live in a different part. Decided it wasn't the type for my mom and I, so we left."

So mom wasn't lying, Buffy thought, somewhat ruefully. She had hoped Joyce was wrong in the fact that Angel came from a bag full of money. Those types never turned out well.

Angel took a seat on her floor, with the pig in his hand. Buffy smiled in return. "Taking a liking to Mr. Gordo, I see?"

He looked confused for a moment before looking down at his hands. Absentmindedly, he tossed it around for a while. "Mr. Gordo?"

"Yep. Sometimes, I still sleep with him when I'm feeling low. Recently."

Angel looked up, concern in his eyes. Buffy wondered why. He doesn't even know me. He doesn't have to care.

"Recently?"

Buffy sighed. "Yeah, I guess." She turned over and lay on her stomach, looking at Angel. "You're not the only new member in the neighborhood. I just moved here a week ago."

"But your mom said she's had this house since a divorce?"

Buffy wondered why her mother told two total strangers that. They are neighbors, she realized. Neighbors, not necessarily friends.

"I stayed with my mom for a while," Buffy answered carefully. "Then, in between middle school, I went to L.A."

"To stay with your dad," Angel murmured, looking at Mr. Gordo. "Why'd you come back?"

She closed her eyes and exhaled. "Who knows, really. I wanted a break."

Angel noticed the tension in her sentence and decided to drop it. Buffy was grateful; it was hard for her to speak of her past, especially with strangers.

They continued to talk about school and their lives for a while. Buffy learned Angel was seventeen -- almost eighteen in a few months -- and currently had a serious girlfriend. Her name was Cordelia, and she went to the same high school as they did.

Why does that name sound awfully familiar?

"She's part of the reason why I wanted to move down here instead of anywhere else," Angel answered. "Not so far away from seeing her."

Buffy nodded. "Has she seen the house, yet?"

Angel immediately tensed up, Buffy noticed. She wished she could take back the question due to the discomfort it was causing.

"No," he said slowly. "She hasn't. She…she doesn't know I moved, yet."

Buffy sat up, with an incredulous expression on her face. "She doesn't know…I thought…I thought you guys were serious?"

"We are," Angel said defensively.

"And how long have you known about the move?"

He looked up at her with tired eyes. "Look, could we drop it? She'll see it eventually."

Buffy opened her mouth to say something, but immediately stopped. "Sorry," she mumbled. The two teenagers heard their parents calling them for dinner, and in one swift motion, Angel tossed Mr. Gordo to Buffy before walking down the stairs.

She looked after him before placing Mr. Gordo on her bed neatly. "Add another male example to the list, Mr. Gordo." She pretended to listen to the stuffed pig and nodded. "Yup. The "something's-wrong-with-Buffy" list. What is that, number one-hundred and five?"

She heard Angel walking back up the stairs and sighed. It's going to be a long dinner.

…And why am I talking to a stuffed pig?

Joyce and Alice seemed to be the only people at the table. Both parents looked to their teenagers and wondered what was going on to make them so quiet.

"So," Alice commented, looking at Buffy and Angel, "you two getting along OK?"

Buffy didn't answer. Angel looked at her, seeing her with her head down and silverware playing with the food. He looked back to his mother and smiled. "We're good."

We're good.

We're good.

We're good.

Not good enough, Buffy thought sadly. She looked at her mom and asked to be excused.

Joyce sighed and nodded her head. Buffy stood up and barely looked at Angel. "It was nice meeting you."

The phrase was directed to the air.

Angel watched as she left, noticing something different about her. Several minutes ago, she was happy and chirpy, and yet she had left in a sad state.

Buffy walked up the stairs slowly, barely making out her mother's words. "She hasn't been feeling well. Must be something at school."

Always an excuse.

But we're good. We're good…