It started to rain, but Willow didn't want to go back to her and Buffy's house, so she just wandered around until she started to sober up.

Soon she came across Oz's van parked at a curb. She approached until she could see Oz asleep in the driver's seat.

She knocked on the window, and where anyone else would be startled awake, Oz simply opened his eyes as though he'd seen her coming all along. "Hey."

"Hey Oz," said Willow, "Comfy in there?"

"No," Oz said, "But at least it's warm. Wanna come in? You look cold."

"Among other things," Willow sighed, hopping in on the passenger's side.

Oz watched her for a while, "So how long have you been doing coke?"

"How did you know?"

"Like I don't know you?"

"Not that long," Willow said.

"I'm sorry about tonight," said Oz, "I… don't know what happened."

"I do," said Willow, "I should have told you about Tara. It wasn't fair of me to let you find out like that."

"No," said Oz, "It's not your fault. It's me. I thought I got it all under control, but as soon as I'm around you… You make me crazy, Will. And it's not fair for you to have to deal with that."

"So what are you saying?"

"I gotta go away," said Oz, "I was doing good. Or, maybe not all the way at good yet, but at least better. Till I came back here and…"

"Where are you gonna go?"

"Not sure," said Oz.

"Maybe one day we'll see each other again."

"Yeah," said Oz. "I'm proud of you, Will. Be careful with the drugs, though. I worry about you, ok? Even if I'm continents away… I'll always worry about you."

Tara could barely hear the knock at the door over the music she was blasting to drown out her own misery. It came again, though, and she was sure it was her neighbors coming to complain.

"I'm sorry," she called as she came to open the door, "I'll turn it—"

But there on the other side was a soggy, sleepy Willow.

"—down. W-Willow?"

"Hi Tara," Willow said, "Um. I kinda had to talk to you. I gotta tell you—"

"I—" Tara stifled a sob, "I understand Willow. Y-you have to be with the person you l-love…"

"No, you don't understand. That's the thing…" Willow smiled, "I am."

And Tara smiled too. She led her into her little apartment, the door shutting behind them, music still blasting. Oh, and they boned.

"Buffy?" said Willow as she entered the studio, "You're here early. Like, really early. Catches the worm early. Or worms aren't even out yet early."

"Well, I wanted to show you that I can make it places on time," said Buffy, "I'm really sorry about last night."

"Really Buffy, it's okay," said Willow, "I was kinda out of it."

"You were high as a jetliner, Will."

"Yeah," said Willow, "That."

"Will you please be careful?" said Buffy, "I mean, I get it—I'm not a complete straight-edge or anything—but it's all fun and games until someone ODs."

"Don't worry, Buff," said Willow, "I'll be careful. You know me: reliable. Right? I shouldn't have gotten so mad at you. I was so stressed out with the Oz and Tara stuff…"

"I didn't hear you come home last night," said Buffy, "So that means…?"
"It means Oz is gone," said Willow. She couldn't help the small grin that graced her lips, "And Tara isn't."

"That's great," said Buffy, "So you and Tara are all good?"

"Oh yeah," said Willow, "We're good. She's good. She's really good."

"Willow!"

"Oh come on," said Willow, "Didn't you ditch me to do smoochy things with Tall, Dark, and Hunky?"

"I mean—" Buffy huffed, "Well… Yeah. But I don't kiss and tell!"

"Tell me," said Willow.

"Okay," Buffy caved, "He's good too. Really good."

"Forget-you're-supposed-to-meet-your-best-friend-good?"

"Guess so," said Buffy. "I just hope he… Well, you know how men are."

"Do I?"

"How they get all different. After sex."

"Did he?"

"We didn't yet. I mean, we did stuff," said Buffy, "But not the traditional… We didn't go all the way-all the way."

"Ah," said Willow, "Well, I wish you luck in man-land. I bought a one-way ticket out."

"You've been out of the closet for, what, twenty-six hours, and you're already starting up with the 'holier than thou' attitude?"

"There are more holes involved," Willow mused.

"Yuck. Willow!"

There was a knock at the studio door.

"Must be Xander," said Willow.

"Knocking?"

"Or Giles, afraid we're having sex or something."

Buffy shrugged and opened the door to reveal none other than:

"Spike?" said Buffy, "What are you doing here? Electric still out in your place?"

"Was in the neighborhood. Wanted to drop by and check on Red."

"On me?" said Willow.

"Well, what with Dingo going all feral. I told him to keep his hands off ya, wanted to make sure it stuck. 'Specially considering how blitzed you were last I saw you."

"Oz is fine," said Willow, "So am I. Uh, thanks for keeping him away from Tara."

"Gentlemanly of you," said Buffy, "Coming over here to check up on us. I sense an ulterior motive."

"Not that you owe me for saving your bird or anything," Spike addressed Willow, "But I've still got that fuzzbox—"

"Bye, Spike," said Buffy.

"But I—"

Buffy strummed a loud note, drowning him out.

"It would—"

Another note.

"But—"

Another.

"Fine," said Spike. "Red, call me later. Bronze is paying me alright now and I can give you something to fix it, alright?"

"Okay, Spike," said Willow.

Spike glanced at Buffy's amp, "You know, that setup could really use—"

She strummed again, "Bye Spike!"

Things were quiet for the Scoobies the next couple of weeks. While Buffy, Willow, and Xander were content in their respective romantic relationships and there was little in the way of drama, it also seemed like the gigs were drying out.

"Are we on some kinda blacklist or something?" said Buffy one afternoon in the studio, "Why isn't anyone booking us besides the Bronze?"

"I can't be that we suck," Willow mused, "Right?"

"We don't suck," said Buffy, "There just aren't enough venues out here that wanna hear—"

"—Chick punk?" said Xander.

"I prefer to think of it as punk. The chick thing is just a bonus."

"I've been mailing demos around," said Willow, "Cordelia has a friend in LA—"

"You sent a demo to Cordelia?" said Buffy, "If anyone is besmirching our name, it's her."

"Hey, Cordelia's with the feminist thing now. She's not like in high school," said Willow, "She wouldn't besmirch."

"Didn't she win Queen of Besmirching in the yearbook?" said Xander.

"That was Prom Queen," said Buffy, "Which she definitely got via besmirching."

"Hey," Willow defended, "I'm just getting our sound out there. Buffy, how many tapes have you mailed out?"

"Uh," said Buffy, "I've been busy!"

"With Angel?"

"He knows people," said Buffy, "I mean… I think. He always talks about, Oh, this guy in LA. This producer in Seattle. "

"And he hasn't linked us up with them… why?" said Xander.

"I think the asking for career introductions thing comes later in the relationship."

"Or he's just bragging about fake shit 'cause he's washed up," Xander muttered.

"Xander!" said Willow, "You literally have a girlfriend."

"I'm not jealous! Can't I not like the guy? I just don't like the guy."

"Have you even met?" said Willow.

"Touchè! What kinda guy is so mysterious and unavailable he can't meet his girlfriend's band? Anyway, I saw him at the Bronze the other night."

"Whatever," said Buffy, grabbing her coat, "I have a date with Mr. Unavailable in an hour. See you guys tomorrow!"

"Ask him about the producer in Seattle!" Xander called after her. He turned to Willow, "Wanna get lunch?"

"Can't," Willow said, "Spike is paying me to fix his pedal. He's meeting me here soon."

"Everyone's got a leather jacket lurker night-owl person to hang with but me."

Willow tossed him her own leather jacket that was draped across an amp, "Put this on Anya."

He turned to leave, and bumped into Spike at the doorway, "Speak of the devil!" He thought for a moment, "Wait, the Devil's, like the king of Hell, right? Maybe that's giving you too much credit. Speak of the… ghoul? Or… undead minion. Like a… vampire."

"Are you done?" said Spike.

"Yeah, yeah," said Xander, leaving.

"Okay, let's see it," said Willow once Xander was gone.

"Buy me a drink first, luv," said Spike.

"The pedal, Spike."

"I know, I know." He pulled it from his deep jacket pocket and handed it to her.

Willow quickly brought it to her makeshift workbench and took a philips-head to it, screwing off the back.

"Uh," she said after a moment, "You don't have to hang here while I work on it. I'll call you when it's done."

"Can't a man hang with a tech-witch while she works her magic? Maybe I wanna see how you do it."

"Well," Willow said, "See, I'll have to re-solder the circuit here, and then reconnect—"

"So," Spike interrupted quickly, "Slayer really likes that Angel, does she?"

"What's a Slayer?"

Spike rolled his eyes, "Buffy. Nickname. Like you're Red and Xander is… Well, I try not to have to refer to him, much. Anyway: does she?"

"Yeah," said Willow, "She likes him. But I don't think that's any of your business, and it's definitely none of my business to be having business meetings with you about, mister businessman."

"This isn't an interrogation," said Spike, "Just curious. You know, he's a bit of a jerk-off, that one."

"I think he said that about you. But without using the words 'jerk' or 'off'."

"I'm saying he did some rotten things in his past. Reformed now, I guess. But, see, I done rotten things and I accept it. Y'know? That's a part of me. But Angel? No, he's like a whole different person. Even goes by a different name, used to be 'Angelus'. He's all brooding and guilt on the outside. But inside? Wouldn't never even acknowledge anything if you told him it was him. Oh, I was on drugs , he'd say, Oh, I was young, I was different . But who knows what it'll take for that side to come out again? That's what happens when you repress it, you know?"

"Spike," said Willow, "I'm a tech. Not your therapist."

"You're Buffy's best friend," said Spike, "I… Look, I'm not gonna go dumping on him like Angel did to me, 'cause it's not right. I'm not gonna go down a list of every fucked thing he did back in the day… But I don't want her gettin' hurt."

"Why don't you tell Buffy?"

"Why do you think?" said Spike, "I hate the guy. And she's gonna think I'm jealous. It'll sound a lot more convincing coming from you."

"Normally I'd think the same. About you being jealous," said Willow, "But after what you did for Tara the other week… I think you've got a soft side, Spike."

"Oh, sod off," Spike said, "Serves me right thinking about someone else for once."

"I'm kidding," said Willow, "I'll tell her."

"So," said Angel, "This is your place? It's nice."

"Will's out and my sister's at school," said Buffy, "Dunno if you want a grand tour or—"

"I'll settle for your room," said Angel.

"Oh you," said Buffy, "Want a beer or something?"

"Nah," said Angel, "I'll take a coke if you have one."

"Yeah, okay," said Buffy, hopping over to the fridge and grabbing two cokes.

Angel wandered around the living room, looking at random knick knacks and gear. He noticed Willow's zines strewn about. "Cool zines."
"They're Willow's," said Buffy, "I'm not that into that stuff."

"Reading?"

"Zines," said Buffy, returning with the cokes, "I like the part of punk rock you can hear."

"That makes sense," said Angel.

Buffy led him to her room, "Here it is. Not much. Lacking the spooky manor aesthetic of your place."

"It's cute," said Angel, "Like you. Lotta records."

"Yeah, well," said Buffy, "I like music. Sue me."

He looked through the records on her shelves and his eyes fell to her desk. He picked up a zine. "Thought you said you weren't into these?"

"Well that's—" She realized what he was holding, the zine that featured Whirlwind, "Uh, I borrowed it from Willow when I met S— You. Is that weird?"

"No, it's…" He stared at it for a long, long time. At the photos of him, Spike, and the two women in his band. He sighed, "Sorry. I don't think I'm in the mood."

"Wait, what?" said Buffy, "But… Coca cola! And records! And…" She sighed.

"It's not you," said Angel, "It's just… memories. I, uh…"

"Hey," said Buffy, "It's okay. We don't have to do anything. Pick out a record, we can just listen."

Angel smiled sadly, "Yeah. Okay."

That night, Buffy and Willow watched TV together after Dawn went to bed.

"Hey Buffy?" said Willow, "I, uh, I talked to Spike today."

"Oh goodie," said Buffy, "Wasn't an in-depth discussion of third-wave feminism, I take it?"

"Actually, he talked about Angel."

"His mortal enemy?" said Buffy, "This'll be good."

"I don't know. Call me a sap, but I feel inclined to trust him."

"About what? What'd he have to say in all his infinite wisdom?"

"Uh," said Willow, "I think it basically amounts to: 'watch out'."

"'Watch out'?" said Buffy, "For, what, bird shit falling from the sky?"

"He just said…" Willow sighed, "He said Angel's done some really bad stuff back when they were in a band. Wouldn't elaborate, said it wasn't his place. But he seemed worried about you."

"Angel's changed," said Buffy, "I mean, he said he used to be on drugs and wasn't the chillest guy, but he's better now."

"That's the thing," said Willow, "Spike's saying maybe he's not. Do you know what Angel did?"
"No, because it's not dwell-on-the-past o'clock, okay?" said Buffy, "He's a nice guy. He cares about me. He's sweet and genuine and self-reflective. Xander doesn't like him, Spike doesn't like him, and now you?"

Willow held up her hands defensively, "I like him! I like him!" she said, "Just wanted to relay is all. Don't shoot the messenger, y'know?"

"No shooting. Safety on," said Buffy, "Thanks Will."

"After the stuff with Oz," Willow said, "I just wanted to make sure… You know, men can be one way sometimes and another way other times."

"I get it," said Buffy, "I appreciate it. You know I can take care of myself." She glanced at the phone, "Oh, hey. Messages."

She hit the playback button.

"Hey, Buffy?" came a familiar voice on the other line, "It's Cordelia. From high school? Anyway, Willow mailed me one of your demos. I'm out in LA now and a friend of mine owns this new club downtown and you guys aren't terrible. Way to go by the way, becoming halfway cool and everything. You guys wanna drive down and play? It's probably a little bigger than you're used to, but it'll be fun. Call me back!"