•••

“Gunn!” Cordelia shouted at her angry coworker as he opened his truck. “Wait up!”

Gunn looked back down the street, and then rolled his eyes. “What?”

Cordelia stopped in front of his old vehicle, shifting her weight from foot to foot. “Um…We need to talk.”

“Not now, Delia. I’m busy. Besides, isn’t there a meeting of the great, smart, white and important back there that you’re missing?” Gunn threw his ax into the bed, and then climbed in the cab.

Taking matters into her own hands, Cordelia reached through the open window, unlocked the passenger door, and jumped in the truck before Gunn could drive away.

“You really shouldn’t leave your windows down in L.A.,” Cordelia said as she buckled herself in.

“Get out.” Gunn killed the engine and leaned back. “Before I drag you out.”

Cordelia sighed. This was going to be so hard. “Look, I said we needed to talk. Why don’t you just drive wherever you’re going, then I’ll take a cab back to the Hyperion? I’m not getting out of the truck here.”

“Fine. I’ll walk.” Gunn turned to open the door when Cordelia reached over and stopped him.

“Please?” Gunn turned to look at the fashion-queen seer. Cordelia shot him her best contrite-trying-to-apologize face.

“Fine. Talk.” Gunn started the truck a second time and pulled into traffic.

Where to begin. “What I said earlier…” Cordelia took a deep breath. “I didn’t really mean that at all. I mean, I meant it that you’re being unreasonable about Wil and Angel, but the rest of it was just me being mad and hotheaded.”

“Uh huh.” Gunn just kept driving.

Cordelia squirmed. “I don’t think you’re less smart than Wesley or Fred or Angel. Or less important.”

“Uh huh.” Apparently Gunn wasn’t in as talkative a mood as she was.

“Are you going to say anything?” Cordelia asked, a bit irritated at his behavior.

“What? You said you wanted to talk. So talk.”

“No, I said we needed to talk. That implies me saying things and then you saying things and then me saying more things—“

“While my ears fall off and I’m late getting home?” Gunn switched lanes too quickly, forcing Cordelia hard into the door.

“Oof. Don’t do that.”

“Don’t do what? This?” Gunn switched lanes again, this time sending Cordelia across the seat. Her head bumped against his shoulder, eliciting another cry of protest.

“That’s enough, mister. Let me out of this deathtrap!” Cordelia had had enough. If Gunn didn’t want an apology, fine.

Gunn pulled over into the next parking lot he saw. “Fine. Get out.” Cordelia ripped off her seat belt and turned to Gunn, winding up for a shouting match. “Oh, no you don’t. You wanted out. So get out. But no more of this ‘we gotta talk’ stuff.”

Cordelia shot her hand forward, grabbing the keys out of the ignition. Before Gunn could grab them back, she opened the door and jumped back out of the cab. “No, we’re going to talk. Right now.”

Gunn got out of the truck and stalked around the front. “Delia. Give. Me. Back. My. Keys.”

Cordelia shook her head. “Nope, not until we talk about this.”

“There’s nothing to talk about, Delia. You don’t like me. You think I’m some sort of musclebound Neanderthal swinging an axe and hanging from the rafters,” Gunn shouted angrily.

“Yeah, well you think I’m some sort of shallow, stuck up bimbo who’s nothing more than a cheerleader for Angel!” Cordelia shot back.

Gunn laughed. “Well, I’m glad we got that out in the open. 'Cause, you know, you’re opinion means so much to me. Maybe I’ll just go jump off a bridge now.”

“Funny. Hah hah. You know, I was wrong before. I did mean all of those things.” Cordelia stepped back, even as Gunn moved forward, eyes blazing.

“Did you? Really? Funny how you’re opinions change when I’m not doing whatever you want me to. Guess if I want Queen C to like me I gotta be careful.” Cordelia recoiled at the pure venom dripping from Gunn’s words. Unbeknownst to the pair, they were drawing quite a crowd. It was an unfortunate side effect of having a shouting match in a supermarket parking lot.

Before Cordelia could respond, Gunn continued. “,Cause I sure wouldn’t want to lose the friendship of a skinny, pretentious airhead. I mean, everyone wants to be friends with a self-absorbed, money-grubbing failure of an actress. It makes my day—no, my life—to be associated with the out of work, complaining, oh-my-daddy-lost-all-his-money secretary of a guilt-tripping boy scout with a leather fetish and his special friend!”

Cordelia had tears in her eyes when Gunn finally finished. “You self-righteous, sanctimonious bastard. You’re right. You don’t need my friendship. Actually, you don’t deserve my friendship. I certainly don’t want yours.” Looking around, Cordelia saw for the first time all the people around them. Thinking very quickly, the still enraged seer pulled back her hand and let Gunn’s keys fly, arcing them over his truck and well into the rush hour traffic beyond.

“You bitch!” Gunn ran off after her keys. Cordelia turned back to the crowd, embarrassed and furious by turns.

“I’ll bet you don’t want to go home with him, do you?” An ancient lady stepped up beside the distraught girl. “Lovers’ quarrels are always a terrible thing. Come on, girl, I’ll share my cab with you.”

Before Cordelia could correct the lady on her obvious mistake, the older woman had ushered her into the cab. Cordelia wondered why the cab was waiting conveniently at the edge of the crowd, until she realized that the driver had been watching as well.

“Where to?” The driver leered in the rear view mirror.

“Don’t start.”

•••

Angel was just descending the stairs to drive the gang to Caritas when two figures tumbled into the lobby. Finishing the remaining stairs at a run, he met his uninvited guests at the door.

“Xander?” He said in shock. Then he noticed the other person. “Oz?”

“Um…Hi, Angel. Long time, no see,” Xander said sheepishly.

“What…” Angel seemed to be at a loss for words.

“We were in the neighborhood and thought we’d stop by since Oz’svanbrokedownsevenblocksbackandwe’reoutofcash,” Xander said in a rush. Oz, for his part, just kind of half-grinned.

“Alexander?” Wesley asked. When he’d exited his office, the Harris boy was the last person he thought he’d see.

“Wes! How’s it hanging?” Xander said with false cheer, eagerly bounding over to Wesley and away from the still glowering Angel.

Just when Angel found his voice, the lobby door swung open again. Cordelia came running inside, bawling her eyes out.

“Cordy?” Xander asked, shocked at the condition of his ex-girlfriend.

“Cordelia, my word. What’s happened?” Wesley inquired, gathering the crying girl into his arms.

“What did you do to Cordy?” Xander asked Angel, upset that his least favorite good guy might have hurt Cordelia.

Fred stepped out of the dining room, lured by the voices in the lobby. “Angel, who are these people? And what’s wrong with Cordelia?”

Angel opened his mouth, but nothing came out. What could he say? A not-quite-friend, not-quite-enemy and a vague acquaintance had just shown up out of the blue and his secretary was having a nervous breakdown.

“Who’s that?” Xander asked, pointing at Fred.

“I’m Fred. I lived on Pylea, before I lived here, but after I lived here for a lot longer than I lived on Pylea,” Fred rambled, the nervousness of the situation sending her back into her habit of inane chatter.

“Harris?” Wil peered over the railing. “What in the bloody hell are you doing here?”

“Who’s that?” Xander pointed up to the balcony.

“Who’s who?” Angel asked dumbly. This was too much.

“The blonde guy up there,” Xander pointed again.

Angel barely spared a glance. “That’s Wil. Xander, maybe this isn’t—“

“He called me a skinny, pretentious airhead!” Cordelia bawled, wiping her face on Wesley’s clean shirt. The watcher suppressed a grimace. Looking over Cordelia’s shoulder, he mouthed ‘Gunn’ to Angel.

The vampire scowled. “That again?” he mouthed back.

“Hey, what’s with the lip-reading?” Xander asked.

“Wil, do you know who these people are?” Fred inquired, still confused.

Wil smirked. “Sure, luv. Baggy-britches is Xander Harris, one of the Slayer’s lapdogs. The orange-haired boy is Oz. He’s a werewolf.”

“How do you know who I am? And don’t call me Baggy-britches. Only Spike calls me…” Xander’s voice faded as Wil’s face took on a sudden familiarity. “Spike?” He squeaked in an embarrassingly high voice.

“Wil.” Wil corrected.

“What?” Xander asked, his eyes crossing.

“And a self-absorbed, money-grubbing failure of an actress! I can’t believe Gunn said that!” Cordelia ranted, still sobbing all over Wesley.

“What?” Angel said, his gaze switching from Xander to Wil to Cordelia.

“Who’s Gunn? Why is Spike here?” Xander asked with ever increasing confusion.

“Wil,” Wil corrected. The blonde went down the stairs to Cordelia, proffering a handkerchief. “Delia, luv, let’s have a seat, hmm?” The vampire took Cordelia from a very grateful Wesley.

Xander passed frantic befuddlement and went straight into panicked hysteria. “Why is Spike holding Cordelia? Who is Fred? Who is Gunn? What the hell is going on here?”

“Wil.” Wil corrected from the couch.

“And why does Spike keep saying ‘will?’”

“Who’s Xander? Who’s Oz?” Fred added, frowning. “Where did they come from?”

“What’s with nerd-girl?” Xander screeched. “Spike, get away from Cordy! Angel, what’s going on here?”

Angel had had enough. “STOP!” He shouted over the din in the lobby. Everyone stopped—talking, pacing, crying, and questioning. “Wesley, could you get Cordelia a glass of water?” The watcher nodded and left.

“Ok. First, Xander, Fred is a physicist that got trapped in another dimension for five years and returned here with us last spring when we had to rescue Cordelia from that dimension.” Angel stopped to take a deep breath. He wondered idly why he felt so tired. Must be all that hot sex with Wil. Couldn’t possibly be stress. Nope.

Wesley returned with Cordelia’s water. “Fred, this is Xander and Oz. They’re old friends of Cordelia’s from Sunnydale. I do not know why they are here," When Xander moved to interrupt, Angel shot him a near-death glare. “And they are going to politely wait until later to explain themselves. Considering my past interactions with Xander, I would say that it is some sort of emergency.” The thought that Buffy might be in trouble just occurred to Angel, particularly since Xander hadn’t seemed upset when he first arrived.

“Xander, ‘Spike’ is not saying ‘will,’ he’s saying ‘Wil.’ That is because his name is Wil, and he hates the name Spike. As long as you are in my home, you will call him Wil. I will not be responsible for what happens if you call him Spike.” Angel paused for a moment.

“Wil is holding Cordelia because they are friends—“ At Xander’s glare he just growled. “Just friends, and Cordelia is obviously upset about something—something that probably has to do with Gunn, considering the mention of his name and the contents of her screams. Gunn is an associate of mine, a very good vampire hunter that unfortunately does not get along well with Cordelia.”

Angel closed his eyes, suddenly wishing he’d never gotten up. “Have I left anything out?”

Oz cocked his head to one side, considering. “Where’s the bathroom?”

•••

“How’s Cordelia?”

Wil sank down onto his favorite stair, obviously exhausted. “Not well, Sire.”

Angel jerked in surprise. It must have been really bad. “Is this…fixable?” He sat down next to Wil, taking the smaller man into his arms. Wil looked almost as bad now as Cordelia had when she’d arrived.

“In all likelihood, yes. But I think you should stay out of it. Me too, for that matter.”

“Why?” Angel asked, wanting to help Cordelia any way he could.

Wil grimaced. “Because you, I, and you-and-I, are right in the thick of it. It’s best if we just keep them from drawing blood and let them sort it out.”

“Oh.”

“What about Harris? Why are he and dog-boy here?” Wil inquired, looking for the new arrivals.

“We haven’t gotten that far. I sent them with Wesley to see about Oz’s van. Fred went down to Caritas. Apparently she’s consulting someone there.” Angel frowned. “I’m not sure on what, but she said it paid. I’m hungry. Come on.” Angel pulled Wil up with him to go warm up a mug of blood.

“Fine, but I want to be there when Harris explains why he’s here.” Wil wasn’t happy about Xander’s sudden appearance—not because he didn’t like the boy, even though he didn’t like him at all. No, it was because when he left Sunnydale, he had assumed that the Scoobies would keep helping Buffy. Xander couldn’t do that in L.A.. As for Oz, Wil didn’t figure he wanted to be in Sunnydale, with the witches still together.

“Wil…” Angel warned, concerned that the souled but now unchipped vampire might do something regrettable. Wil just rolled his eyes.

“Angel, stop worrying. You trusted me enough to take me into your home and your bed. You also trusted me enough to take the chip out. I’m not going to ruin that trust just for a nibble of rancid Slayerette.” Angel nodded guiltily. Indeed, he shouldn’t have questioned Wil’s loyalties.

A few hours later, Wesley, Xander and Oz returned, bearing large quantities of Chinese carry-out.

“Did you get everything worked out?” Angel asked, helping Wesley with the food cartons.

Oz nodded. “Van’s in the shop. Alternator’s dead.”

“Still a regular chatterbox, I see,” Wil commented, joining the others at the front desk.

Xander rolled his eyes. “So, Deadboy, the van’s taken care of. What gives around here?” Angel had to give Xander credit; apparently a couple of years on his own had matured him somewhat—despite his earlier behavior.

“Why don’t we take this into the dining room?” Angel said, picking up some of the containers.

Xander glanced at Wil and Wesley. “Why do they need to be there?”

“Because I want them there. Wil, could you bring some blood?” Angel said over his shoulder as he pushed open the dining room doors.

Once everyone was ensconced in the dining room with the food of their preference, Angel started the interrogations. “What brings you to L.A., Xander?”

Xander squirmed. “It’s a long story.”

“I’m not getting any older,” Wil and Angel said simultaneously. Wesley chuckled at their antics.

“I, however, am. Please begin,” the watcher added.

“Ok, fine.” Xander looked over at Oz, who just shrugged, then at Angel, who did not offer a reprieve. He supposed he owed them the full story—after all, Angel had just paid to have Oz’s van fixed. Besides, the vampire would probably like to know about Buffy.

“Well, it all started back when Buffy came back from the dead. You remember that, right *Wil?*”

The vampires nodded for him to continue.

“So Buffy gets back and the first thing we do is get cracking on trying to figure out how she got back to us. Seriously, we spent weeks scouring every book Giles had, and a bunch more he got just for the occasion. We didn’t find anything, though.” Wil grinned to himself. They wouldn’t find anything in a book, either.

“What are you grinning at, Bleachboy?” Xander spat, still mad that Angel had let the blonde stay.

“Nothing, Baggy-britches. Go on. I’m not seeing why you’re in L.A. yet.” Wil leaned back, his blood done. At this rate, he’d have age spots before Xander finished.

“Fine. So we don’t find anything, and we’re all kind of concerned. Giles decides to go research some more in England, at that big Watcher library they have in London. You know the one, Wesley. Apparently someone in the Watchers still likes ol’ Rupert. Meanwhile, though, Willow is trying every spell she can find to figure out the same thing—where Buffy came from. Of course, nobody’s found anything.” Xander stopped for a few minutes to finish his dinner.

Wil slouched down even further. “I’m still not seeing how this gets you out of Sunnydale.”

“I’m getting there. Anyway, so Buffy’s back, and taking up where she left off with Dawn, playing mom and sister and whatnot. We’re all trying to help, but she’s kind of…I don’t know, mad at us or something. She accused us of hovering over her too much,” Xander’s voice rose in frustration. “I mean, she was dead. She didn’t live for months thinking her best friend was dead.”

Angel and Wil shared a glance. It certainly sounded like classic Buffy.

“And then Riley showed up,” Xander sighed.

That explained pretty much everything to Wil. Soldier-boy was back in town. The blonde picked up his and Angel’s mugs and returned them to the kitchen. He could listen to the rest of the story in there. Not that he needed to. Wil knew just where it was going.

Xander had had a thing for the Slayer since, if the stories were correct, the moment he’d seen her. Unfortunately for him, she didn’t feel the same. In fact, she didn’t even acknowledge the one-sided attraction. Xander had dated first Cordelia, then Anya—and had messed around with both Willow and Faith. Still, he held a torch for the little Slayer that could.

If Wil was right, and he probably was, then Xander had seen Buffy’s return as a sterling opportunity. Maybe this time Buffy would look his way, show him a little affection. Hells, he probably shoved Anya aside just for the chance.

And then Soldier-Boy showed up, swept the damsel off her feet (again), and left Xander high and dry. Oz was probably just a cheap ticket out of town.

Wil finished washing the mugs, and then returned to the dining room.

“…anyway, Anya decided she needed space and moved out. Then Oz showed up, and Willow wasn’t so pleased about that.” Xander paused to see if Oz wanted to say anything. The werewolf shook his head. This was definitely Xander’s story.

“Willow is pretty comfortable with Tara, and they didn’t exactly make Oz feel welcome. Buffy joined in a bit, I think. So we decided to try our luck down here for a while—you know, to let the waters clear a bit in Sunnydale. Not like they’ll miss us or anything.” Xander finished his story, at once both glad to have it off his chest and worried that Angel and the others would read the rest of it in between the lines he’d given them.