AN: This chapter has one of my favorite scenes. Probably plays better in my head than on paper, but I hope you'll like it.

BTW, the hits counter seems to be broken at the moment, so I have no idea if anyone is reading. Any comments would be muchly appreciated! Make me feel less lonely ...

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Summary: Time passes. Angel and the others search for Miranda, but she has disappeared. Angel has gone into full sulk mode. He still has no idea what the priest was talking about—everything seems the same. They have some evidence that she is still in L.A.. At one point, Duncan bursts into the hotel and rather violently demands to know what Angel did (in a protective, big brotherly kind of way). He had accidentally bumped into Miranda somewhere and she was behaving very oddly. She said she had been having trouble sleeping and he could smell the alcohol on her, though she didn't seem drunk. She wouldn't tell him what happened and then quickly disappeared. Kate (the police detective) shows up a few days after that.

Kate: "Looks like your girlfriend's been moonlighting."

Angel: "What?"

Kate: (handing him something) "Surveillance cameras took these—none of them got a direct shot, but there's a decent image of her left arm—tattoo clearly visible. Two robberies in the past week at local museums."

Angel: "It's not Miranda—her tattoo is only on her wrist, not all the way up her arm. And she's not my girlfriend (beat) anymore."

Kate: (surprised, some sympathy) "Oh. Whoever it was took some fairly pricey artifacts. And managed to put two security guards and a cop in the hospital."

Angel: "It's not her."

Kate: (handing him another picture) "Yeah, well, we've got a better picture from hospital security in a kidnapping case. A young woman abducted from the cancer ward last night. No ransom, no body has turned up—doctors said she's unlikely to have survived the trauma in her condition."

Angel: "I'm sure there's some sort of explanation."

Kate: "That's why I figured I'd give you a heads up. I haven't let on that I know who she is yet. But I'll have to soon."

Angel: "Thanks, Kate." (deep, concerned frown)

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Sometime later in a phone booth, late at night in a rather deserted part of town. Miranda is leaning against the back glass, with her hand on the receiver, though she hasn't picked it up yet. She looks awful. She takes a swig from a bottle and pulls a piece of paper from the pocket of her pants. She unfolds it, takes a deep breath and then dials. It rings and then an answering machine picks up—it's Angel's voice saying no one is there to take the call.

Miranda: "It's me. I'm calling to say that I don't think I'm going to be able to see you before I go. (She's reading from the paper.) I thought that I'd be able to and I know I told Gunn that I would, but...things haven't been going all that well and I just don't think it would be a good idea. So. Uh, I wanted to say that I'm sorry. I don't blame you for the way things turned out. I shouldn't have taken out my anger on you—I'm sorry for breaking your nose. (sniff) And, uh, I think I should warn you that if I do see you at some point in the future, I'm likely to be very cruel and you shouldn't take it too personally. That's just the way it has to be. Okay. I think that's it. (putting down the piece of paper) Phew, that wasn't so hard now, w..." (Just then Angel picks up the phone.)

Angel: "Miranda?" (silence) "Miranda, are you there? Don't hang up."

Miranda: (starting to freak out a bit) "You're not supposed to be there. I don't...I'm not ready...I put my notes away."

Angel: "Please. Miranda, I've been so worried."

Miranda: (a bit teary) "Hi."

Angel: (relief) "Hi. (beat) Are you OK?"

Miranda: "Um. I feel a little dizzy."

Angel: "Maybe you should sit down."

Miranda: "Okay." (She slides down the glass and sits at the floor of the booth.)

Angel: "Where are you?"

Miranda: (looking around nervously) "Uh, I'm not sure. I think I may be lost."

Angel: "Do you still have your motorcycle?"

Miranda: "No. I sold it to some guy. (beat) I think."

Angel: "Is there a street sign nearby? I could come get you. Just help me figure out where you are."

Miranda: "The thing is, I don't have my sword. I fell asleep on a bench and some kids took it. I haven't been sleeping. Everything started out fine—I was feeling all right and then I fell asleep and I had this awful dream. And then every time I fell asleep, I had the same awful dreams and so I decided that I didn't want to go to sleep anymore but after a few days, I couldn't help it and then those stupid kids came...(she's crying)...and now I can't fight and what if they find me?"

Angel: "I'll bring you a sword; Or you can come get one."

Miranda: (whispering) "I see myself do things and I think I'm dreaming, but I'm not. And sometimes I am, but I don't know it. Maybe I should talk to Wesley."

Angel: "Come back to the hotel and we'll figure it out. When was the last time you slept?"

Miranda: "The bench, I told you—must've been out for a couple of hours. Before that, it'd been three days, maybe."

Angel: "You need to get some rest—sleep deprivation will make you insane."

Miranda: "But I don't want to sleep—I don't want to dream. I do terrible things—horrible, horrible, horrible."

Angel: "What do you see when you look out of the phone booth?"

Miranda: "You're not listening to me. I should go."

Angel: "No, don't hang up. Please. It's been so quiet here."

Silence for a bit (with breathing/sniffling noises).

Miranda: "I miss...it's nice hearing your voice."

Angel: "Yeah."

Miranda: (pause) "Maybe I could come by and pick up my things."

Angel: "I'll pack them up for you. You can get some rest and talk to Wesley and..."

Miranda: "Where would I...?...I guess I could sleep in the lobby. Maybe that would be best."

Angel: "Whatever you want. Just come home. Do you have money?"

Miranda: "A little."

Angel: "Just find a cab and tell them to take you here."

Miranda: (looking a little cheerier) "Yes, I could find a taxi. I have a card with the address of the hotel on it. I'll give it to him."

Angel: "Do that. Just keep walking until you find one—or stop in a market or a bar and ask them to call you one."

Miranda: "Ok. So, uh, I'll see you later."

Angel: (big smile of relief) "Soon."

(Writer's note: Gentle reader, I don't know if you've ever been through a tough break-up. I sure have (a couple!), including one time with my now husband early on. If you have, do you remember that feeling when you're really down in the dumps—you've been crying and you're upset and everything has been so HARD and then, suddenly, you have the opportunity to spend time with your ex and even though rationally, you know it's a bad idea, you jump at it. And for that short period of time, once you've decided to give in to it and you're on your way to see him, you feel calm again and almost happy. I can't describe it very well, but I'm thinking this is what Miranda is feeling. Everything has gone to crap in her mind and even though she's still mad and upset, the idea of going back to the hotel has such a strong appeal, merely because there's some comfort in it. You do crazy, irrational things sometimes if you're upset enough and tired enough. More on that later….)

She hangs up the phone and staggers out of the phone booth. She's still very out-of-it. Eventually, we see her find a taxi. She drags herself in the backseat, explains that she only has $20 and gives him the card with the address on it. She quickly passes out. The cabbie wakes her, hands her $5 and the card with the address. She climbs out—he drives off before she has a chance to get her bearings. When she does, she realizes she's not at the hotel. She looks at the card and notices that written on the back is Lindsey's home address—CRAP. She turns around to see a high-rise apartment building. She decides to go up. She rings the bell. He answers. She asks to borrow $20. He asks her to come in for a drink. She reluctantly agrees. They discuss the situation—he manages to talk her out of going back to the Hotel. He'll get her a sword and she can stay with him for as long as she needs to. He ends up getting some of her things from the hotel as well, much to the chagrin of Angel. (Writer's note: Again, this was a cute little scene with Lindsey, but I just didn't have the time to work on it.)

So basically, she never appears at the hotel and Angel is disheartened, and continues to use the gang to try to track her. A few days later, they find out that she has bought a one-way ticket to Edinburgh, Scotland leaving in two days from Sunnydale airport (ahem). Angel contemplates going to the airport to see her.

Scene 15

Sunnydale. Outside of Miranda's house. A car pulls up and parks badly, partially knocking over the mailbox. Miranda stumbles out. She's got a bottle in one hand and a bag thrown over her shoulder. She staggers up to the house, fumbles for her keys and goes in. The place is a mess—the electricity is out (no one to pay the bills), so Miranda finds some candles and lights them. Once there is light, she looks around and sighs. She goes upstairs and starts rummaging around in one of the rooms. Suddenly a rock is thrown through one of the windows. Then another. She glances outside from the second floor, to find Spike standing on the lawn, hurling whatever he can find at the house. Luckily, his aim is a bit off because he's drunk too (big surprise).

(Quick flashback to just a few moments before—Spike is strolling along the sidewalk towards the house. Looks like this is something he's been doing on a regular basis. He stops at the front gate where the car is and notices the candle-lights appearing in the windows. He takes a few steps into the lawn and then stops for a moment. He turns to look for something to throw. He spots an orange tabby cat sitting next to a nearby tree.

Spike: "Get out of here. Stop following me, you stupid hairball." (He takes a step towards it as if to chase it away.)

Spike: "I mean it. Go on home. Dawn's your mum now."

It runs away from him, but then stops as soon as he stops chasing it.)

Miranda rests her forehead on the window frame for just a moment, staring at him, wearily, and then with a look of determination, goes down the stairs and opens the door.

Spike: (seeing her) "Well if it isn't bloody Ilsa, back from the war. Did we win? Or did our soulful hero throw you out when he discovered what a cold bitch you are?" (Miranda just stands there in the doorway and takes it, trying to look tough and disinterested) "You're lucky I can't come inside, 'cause..."

Miranda: (before he can finish) "Come in." (She says this and then turns away from the door and heads into the house. Spike looks surprised, but then quickly strolls through the door. He heads straight for her—she's in the process of pulling a suitcase out of one of the closets. She sees him standing there and says to his face) "Go on then."

Spike: (Almost too angry to get the words out—he'd thought about what he might say in this very situation, but is having trouble getting started) "You self-righteous, manipulative, lying bitch."

Miranda: "Is that the best you can do? Give it some wellie, luv—if it's one thing I thought I could count on you for, it's a good insult."

Spike: (infuriated) "Honestly there aren't enough words to describe how much you disgust me. Bugger if I know why I didn't let you have it last time in L.A. Must've been fucking off my head to think there was any other explanation than your own selfish desire to screw whoever takes your fancy at the moment. Let me guess, the plonker threw you out because you were shagging someone else—most likely his worst enemy, only that would be me and I know you weren't shagging me, though honestly it would be easy enough to forget so maybe you were."

He's on a roll now. She has taken the suitcase down into the bedroom now and is pulling things out of drawers—he is following her with a constant stream of insults.

"Or did you just figure out that you can't fuck your way into heaven? That is what you were going for right? So you could be with your precious Cal? 'Cause even though it's been a long time, I'm pretty sure that isn't one of the options. 'Course if it were, I might've signed up, along with a few more, I'd bet. Maybe that could be your thing—you could be the Angel of Fucking."

Miranda: "That's more like it."

Spike: "Did you honestly think that screwing a hero was the same thing as being one? That makes you bloody certifiable, that does. I have a touch more of a handle on how these things work and let me be the first to let you in a little secret—doesn't work that way. Don't fool yourself— hell's waiting for you with open arms."

Miranda: "Guess I'd best not die, then."

Spike: "So tell me pet, was it lurve? Or was he just your new bit of ruff? Who's next—the bloody Terminator? Bet that'd be good for a laugh—certainly a step up in personality. But here you are—back in good ol' Sunny-D. Decided to give the knife one more twist before you leave for good? There was a time when I found sadism attractive, but..."

Miranda: (defensive) "I thought you were still in Rio with Darla."

Spike: "How did...? (thinks about it for a moment) The cash card. You gave it to her—you knew I'd know the pin. She said she took it off you, but you wanted to track us."

Miranda: (Not answering, fishing something out of her bag—an envelope. She tosses it on the bed and some documents come out of the opening—one of them is a passport.) "These are yours. Might as well take them. They're not of any use to me."

Spike: "What for?"

Miranda: "I don't know. (ha) You can to follow me to Europe and then the insults need never stop."

Spike: "Bugger that. I'll be as far away from you as I can get. You've got some brass to suggest I'd want to be anywhere near you after what you've done. Makes me want to hurl just thinkin' about it."

Miranda: (Still packing, but now she is s starting to let the words get to her a bit) "So you're going to stay here and pine for your precious Buffy?"

Spike: (He grins a sadistic grin—now he knows where her sensitive spot is. Time to go in for the kill. Calmly) "No need to pine anymore, luv. I've had her. (He's totally lying—curious if she'll believe him) Hmmm (He purrs) and she was...everything I'd hoped. (He can see Miranda stiffen at this—she's totally buying it) Yep, we've been going at it like rabbits—she's tireless. For such a youngster, she's got some skills. Must be a slayer thing. I suppose it's the enthusiasm that makes all the difference, really. I mean, I expected Darla to make me forget all about shagging you, but Buffy, well, her superiority was a complete surprise."

Miranda: (This is too much for her. She stops packing and in a very angry/upset voice replies) "That is such bullshit. Darla, fine—who the hell knows. But there is no way Buffy is better—you may have enjoyed fucking her more than me, but that's all it was. Or is. She's a bloody child."

Spike: (laughs) "What's wrong, luv. Was Mr. Soulful pining for his little Buffy the whole time? Oooh, tough luck. If I could be bothered to give a rats arse, I'd...nah, I can't."

Miranda stomps off into the next room and is rummaging through various drawers, pulling various items out to throw in her suitcase. Spike is right behind her, throwing insults.

Miranda: (beginning to rant—more to herself than to Spike) "It's all such bullshit, really. We're just idiots, all of us. Chasing after things we think we want—trying to be who we think we should. I mean, look at you chasing after Buffy. You're a vampire—and no matter what you do, you won't be who she needs you to be and you wouldn't be happy if you were. Before that there was Dru and despite your efforts you weren't who she wanted either—you couldn't match her ambitions and again you wouldn't've been happy if you did. So you can't be evil enough for Dru or good enough for Buffy, so why is it that you try so hard to be either of those things. You and I are the same, really. We don't accept who we are, so we fight it with all we've got only to be miserable in the end. We chase the white and the black, but the truth is, we're as gray as the Seattle sky. Well I say 'fuck it' and you should too."

Spike: "Hey, you leave me out of your bloody psychobabble."

She's now just finished rummaging in a drawer in the livingroom. She throws what she pulled out on the coffee table and stands face to face with Spike, focusing on him directly for the first time (up to now, she has averted her eyes).

Miranda: "Do you want to hit me? Would that make you feel better?"

Spike: "It'd be a nice step in that direction, yeah."

Miranda: "Go on, then. Give me your best shot."

Spike: "Don't think I need your permission, pet, but since you offered..."

His face is still fired up with rage—teeth clenched, eyes flared. He forms a fist with one of his hands, lifts it, but then hesitates. You can tell that even with all his rage and pain, he's conflicted—he'd never hit her in anger before. She sees the look on his face and knows that he won't just strike her down as she stands there. So she punches him hard across the jaw. That's all he needed—he comes at her with all the pent-up fury in him. They fight—Miranda does her best to defend herself, but it's far from even—without weapons, she is at a severe disadvantage. That and her heart just isn't in it—she wants to let him beat the crap out of her. They basically trash the living room as they fight. Finally, Spike hits her square in the face and she goes flying backwards and lands on her back on top of the glass coffee table—it shatters and now she laying on top of the broken glass. He jumps on her and pins her arms to the side as he straddles her—he's in vamp face now.

Miranda: (Tears coming now—she's lost all control. Still a hint of bitterness/anger in her voice) "Do it. Just do it. (She turns her head to the side, giving him a direct line to her jugular.) And when you're done, finish it if you want—my sword's in the next room."

She is surprised to hear herself say this. In response, Spike, pushes her hard into the glass beneath—he's still seething. He looks at her—she has closed her eyes and tears are streaming down her face. She is sobbing just a little.

Spike: (yelling) "How could you do this? We were happy. You ruined everything. I should rip your heart out. (pause. angry/demanding voice) "Why are you crying? What's a little pain for someone like you? (beat) Why are you crying? (She doesn't respond. He pushes her shoulders hard into the broken glass again—she whimpers.) Answer me."

He shoves her again when she doesn't answer, his eyes viciously scanning her face.

Miranda: (After another moment, she reluctantly spits out her pain.) "Because you hate me so much. (between sobs) I still love you and you hate me. Please, just be done with it."

Spike: (Coming back to human face. Despite himself, he's calming down. He can feel she's telling the truth, and this throws him off.) "Yeah, you'd like that wouldn't you? Easy way out. (beat) Fuck it."

He roughly pushes back from her and sits on the ground a couple feet away, leaning against a wall looking utterly spent. Miranda continues to cry and hold her eyes shut. After she realizes he isn't going to bite/kill her, she blinks and opens them slightly, but doesn't move. A few minutes pass.

Spike: "Make me an offer."

Miranda: (She's not quite sure what she just heard. She lifts her head slightly and comes up a bit on her elbows (still on her back)) "What?"

Spike: (Voice full of exhaustion and defeat.) "I'm tired of being angry. Tired of being sad. I'm just...tired. (beat) Make me an offer."

Miranda: (Still not quite believing what she's hearing, but she is sure as hell going to jump at the opportunity. She props herself up more fully on her elbows so she can look at him.) "Come with me to Europe. Give me two weeks—a month, maybe, to prove myself. I'll do whatever I can to try and make it up to you."

Spike: "Such as?"

Miranda: (Thinking as she wipes some blood and tears from her face with the back of her hand.) "We'll do whatever you want to do—go where you want to go. I've still got enough money to keep us traveling in style. I'll promise however you want me to promise—we could get married, if that's what you want. (He lets out a short, bitter laugh as if to say that time has past. She notes his reaction and adds) I'll hunt for you—I don't care. Give me a month to do this—to try; and if at the end, it isn't enough, you can just leave and break my heart and get your revenge. Or take my head and send me to hell. I won't ever fight you again. (She's getting more animated as she speaks—could he honestly be considering it? Raising an eyebrow) I'll do whatever you want. What've you got to lose?"

He watches her closely as she talks. When she's done, he turns his face to the side as he considers it. A few moments pass. She is holding her breath and scanning his face. He stands up and takes a step towards her and then stops, towering over her menacingly.

Spike: "Plenty. (beat) But okay."

He holds out his hand. She closes her eyes briefly—she can't believe it. She takes hold of his hand and he pulls her up to her feet. Some glass falls from her clothes. Neither of them speak for a moment—it's a bit awkward as they stand there in silence. Miranda is the first to say something.

Miranda: "I'll need to make some calls. (He nods. She walks over to her bag on the counter and pulls out her cell phone. She takes outa small notebook out and dials.) "Yes, I have a ticket on flight 478 to Edinburgh. Sumner, Miranda. Yes, that's it. I have a traveling companion and was wondering if there are any seats left on that flight. I'll wait. Oh, I see. What about if we leave straight from LAX instead of coming from Sunnydale? Right then, we'll do that. Can I upgrade to business class as well? Thank you. (She gives them the rest of the details and then dials another number.) "I have a reservation beginning tomorrow night and I'd like to see about getting a bigger room. Miranda Sumner. Tell me, is the basement suite available? (pause as she listens) I do realize there aren't any windows. Yes, that would be perfect." (She hangs up and puts the phone down.) "That's it then."

Spike: "When do we leave?"

Miranda: "Since we have to drive to L.A., I'm afraid we need to leave in the next half hour or so. Is that Okay? I can change the flight again if you need to..."

Spike: "Nah, it's fine. Last I checked, they had clothes in Scotland."

Still very awkward—neither of them are quite sure what to do. After a moment, Miranda walks toward Spike and slowly and cautiously moves close enough to touch him. She puts her hands on his chest and looks into his eyes. A tear streaks down her cheek.

Miranda: (almost a whisper) "I'm so sorry, William."

Up to this point, he hadn't moved a muscle. Now he softly wraps his arms around her and pulls her close into a hug—he presses his face into her hair. They stay like that for a long time, not moving or saying a word. You can feel them both relax after a few minutes. He moves his hands down her back and notices the bits of glass still stuck to her shirt and skin.

Spike: "We should get you cleaned up a bit." (As he says this, he pushes away slightly and turns to go get a cloth. You can see he's got tears in his eyes and is all sniffly—he tries to hide it and quickly wipes his nose on his arm. When he gets back with the cloth, he gently turns her around and pulls off her shirt. She winces. There is a lot of glass and a lot of blood.) "Think, maybe we should do this in the bath, luv."

She turns and nods, flashing a small smile. Next they're in the bathroom. She's sitting on the edge of the tub—he's behind her, gently pulling out pieces of glass and wiping up the blood with a wet towel. You can tell it must be painful for her, but she's smiling. If you saw her from the front, you'd think she was getting a massage or something else fun from the look on her face.

tbc...