Spike liked a good train terminus—he was as susceptible as ever to the air of romance and new beginnings that train journeys presaged. Most of his travel in the last century and a half was by rail, and he'd had plenty of good times, with Drusilla and otherwise, on trains and in stations. A large busy train terminus like Union Station in LA was everything to a vampire—any-time shelter from the light, food and drink, company, rest, amusement.


So he was feeling pretty cheerful when they walked in that night, a little after seven. Dawn's train was due to arrive in ten minutes. Buffy had been nervous all day, sleepless in their hotel room. She'd taken a long bath, kept turning the TV on and off while he tried to doze. She'd brushed her hair to a high shine, and fiddled discontentedly with her clothes, complaining that she didn't like how she must look.


She looked fine now, striding along at his side, glancing around noticingly at the bustle of the people passing in all directions, eyes and ears and nose alert. Crowds always roused his appetite; he supposed she was experiencing the same thing.


The train from up the coast was announced. Arriving on track three. Buffy broke into a run without waiting for him. Spike caught her up, took her hand. "All right, Slayer."


They watched the passengers stream through the doors from the platform. The younger, more lightly-encumbered came first; then the older people, the families dragging small children and luggage.


"Where is she?"


Buffy darted towards the door. People were still coming through—Dawn would be one of them, any moment now. Spike followed her, out onto the platform. A Red Cap piled bags on a luggage trolley, two conducters conferred. The last of the riders were straggling up towards the station.


"Spike, where is she?" Buffy glanced around at him, but she was already darting into the first open car door, running up the aisle of the empty train, searching. He kept up with her, hastening up the platform as she swept through car after car. At the last door she emerged looking frantic.


"She's not there."


"Maybe we missed her. Let's look in the waiting room."


"I don't think she was on the train. I don't smell her at all."


Spike didn't either, but he took Buffy's hand and drew her on.


"She wouldn't change her mind," Buffy babbled. "She must've gotten caught. And she had no way to reach us—"


"Let's see."


The benches in the waiting area, old wooden pews in rows, rubbed smooth and shiny by decades of backsides, were pretty full. They walked up and down the rows, though Spike was already pretty sure the girl wasn't there.


Through the echoing noise of the high-ceilinged space—voices, piped music, clatter of footsteps—one low murmur sounded curiously loud. "Buffy."


They both glanced around.


He stood there like he'd materialized out of the air, hair and coat black and stiff as the frown on his face.


"Angel!" Buffy started towards him, one step, then froze.


"Bloody hell." What was he doing here? Spike resisted his urge to drag Buffy back behind him; Angel acted like he wasn't even there, and besides, she wouldn't stand for that.


"I didn't want to believe it," Angel said.


Buffy put her chin up. "It's true. In a way it's just as well."


A black look like the black hair and black coat, passed across Angel's face, leaving it as adamantine as before.


Buffy said, "What is this?"


"Dawn called him," Spike said. This was suddenly obvious. Stupid girl. She'd been scared. Hadn't wanted to betray Buffy altogether, by telling Willow or Giles, so she tipped off the old boyfriend. Clever really. Pain in the arse, but smart.


"She's safe," Angel said. "She arrived on an earlier train. Cordy met her and brought her back to the Hyperion."


"You're not going to keep her from me," Buffy said.


"He's not going to, pet," Spike said. "He—"


"You—shut up." Angel spared him one iota of a glance, meant to be crushing, before focusing back on Buffy. "Why is he even here?"


"He's with me."


I should slay you both."


Buffy drew herself up. "Oh please. You are so not doing anything of the sort. Let's just skip the empty threats part. I want to see my sister."


Angel looked disinclined to skip that part. His eyes went black and cold. Spike could guess well enough what he was thinking—when he was turned, he'd done the worst to his family, hell, to his entire village. He assumed that all vampires wanted nothing else but to do the same.


"She's clean. Good as she ever was, mate."


"You're not my mate."


"All right, but she's still Buffy."


"Is she? Then what's she doing with you?"


"Hello, she is standing right here."


Drawing back his lapel with a subtle gesture, Angel showed he was armed. Spike wasn't worried—had Angel really intended to slay her, he figured, he wouldn't be having this confrontation here in the train station, with a cast of thousands surging all around them. He'd have made nice, taken them away from here to someplace quiet, and hit them by surprise.


A move he was supremely good at.


That he hadn't played it that way meant that he didn't quite believe what he'd been told about Buffy. Needed to see for himself. And most of all, longed for it to be all right.


Buffy raised a hand—open, seemingly relaxed. But Angel knew well enough what she could do with her bare hands. And how fast. "I thought we were skipping the empty threat part. Yes, I'm a vampire now. Yes I'm with Spike. And yes, I'm still Buffy Summers, I'm still the slayer, and I'm here to square things with my sister, so stop wasting my time."


"You have nothing but time, now. I'll take you to Dawn, but he's not invited."


"I told you, Spike's with me."


"He shouldn't be! The last time I saw him, Spike stole from me, and tortured me."


"Oh, like you haven't stolen from and tortured him? I'm not so naive as I used to be, Angel. Don't expect me to believe you didn't teach Spike everything he knows on that front."


"You don't have to stay with him just because he turned you."


"He didn't turn me. It was someone else. But he's helped keep me from ... from disaster, and despair, ever since. And he's Dawn's friend. And you're taking us to her right now."


He might've gone a little whoozy with the shock, except that she slipped her hand into his then, and squeezed it hard.


Angel's lip curled, but he turned on his heel without another remark, and led the way.