A/N- Thanks to all who have reviewed and please keep reading! I wish my updates could be more frequent, but with school starting up I'll be short on time. I'll try to keep up on it though! Yay for pure Angel and Spike banter!

I do not own any part of Buffy the Vampire Slayer or Angel. If I did, Illyria would have stayed down in her well.

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"So, tell me again why the bloody hell we're doing this?" asked Spike arrogantly.

"People need our help," replied Angel, as he continued to pack supplies. Spike, being the helpful team player he was, lounged in a corner nearby.

"But this isn't exactly our cup of tea now, is it?" Spike skeptically raised his eyebrows, "Doesn't seem necessarily dire." The vamp clasped his hands behind his blonde head and further relaxed into the chair.

Angel sighed in aggravation and, his voice rising in anger at his companion's ignorance, said, "It's gonna' be big. Like…like…" Angel searched his 200 year-plus memory for a comparison to this anomaly. His eyes brightened slightly as his mind grasped onto something, "Haven't you heard of Hurricane Andrew? It's like that, but about ten times worse."

"Heard of it?" said Spike, leaving the confines of his comfortable chair, walked forward, "Heard of it? I bloody lived with it for months, did you forget? Not to mention a few dozen hormonal teenage slayerettes and every member of the bloody Scooby gang, for God knows what reason, in the same house!"

"I wasn't being figurative, Captain Peroxide! I was being literal!" Angel yelled at Spike in pure disbelief at his idiocy. "Hurricane Andrew. In Florida. Nearly 15 years ago. Really bad," Angel cocked his head to one side as his eyebrows reached towards one another in astonishment, "Has the bleach really affected all the parts of your brain?"

"I still say mine was worse." Spike gave a menacing look and stalked away.

Gunn wheeled into the room, "As much as I hate to say this, as in loathe myself for even thinking it, Spike has a point. What exactly are we gonna' do down there?"

Angel turned to face his temporarily paralyzed friend, "I, I don't know. Spike and I will go out at night, I guess, rescue people caught in the flooding. I don't know if I should dare taking Illyria. She could transform into…Fred," Angel gulped, still distraught with the painful memories. He continued, "So as not to freak out the locals, any more than they all ready have to bear. She still has her strength. But she'll probably just be making odd statements about human behavior the whole time. Giving the "muck at her feet" speech. Again. Have you decided what you're doing?"

Gunn nodded. "I'm coming. Like I'd miss out on a mission! I'm getting' out of this hell on wheels. I'll be fine."

"Good, good, fine. That'll, that'll be great," Angel replied in a high pitched voice, attempting to conceal his skepticism. Angel sighed once again, "You know, here's the thing. People need our help. Period. So it's not what we usually handle, maybe not the "excitement" we're used to. But we've done things like this before, fires and such. So everyone stop making a big deal out of it! That's it!"

"Okay then," Gunn nodded in agreement, but smiled to himself at the sight of his usually calm and collected boss throw a hissy fit. "Besides," Gunn continued, "I've always wanted to see Europe. Big Ben. The Eiffel Tower. All that touristy stuff."

"It's not that great," Angel and Spike said oddly in unison. They looked at each other warily, not wanting to remember their activities in their old stomping grounds, back in their pre-soul days. The havoc they wreaked on the streets they would now be returning to in order to fix, not destroy. To save, not kill. The irony did not escape them.

"We'll leave first thing tomorrow night," Angel stopped the odd silence. Do you remember the old client of ours, with the tons of dough? How I first ran into you?"

Gunn nodded and smiled smugly. "Oh yeah, the 'Dungeons and Dragons' techno nerd. I remember, I almost killed you. That was fun!" Gunn raised his eyebrows as he laughed heartily.

"Hang on, hang on," Spike said, his hands now held up before him, "I'd like to hear more about this." He walked toward Gunn, his right hand on his chin, the other pointing towards Gunn. "You know, I knew I always liked you."

"Spike!" said Angel annoyed. "Anyway, David decided to lend us one of his private jets to fly us over to Europe, so I wouldn't be calling him a 'nerd' to his face. From wherever we are then, we'll drive to wherever the storm hits."

"Sounds fun." Though the three knew it would be anything but.