“You couldn’t have mentioned she was in my office?” Angel demanded, heading toward Harmony’s desk. “You couldn’t fit that in?”

“You were being difficult,” Harmony replied, handing him a clean shirt and pants. Angel glared at her, grabbing the clothes out of her hand, and ducked into an empty office to change. Just as he came back out, still buttoning up his shirt, Buffy came flying down the hallway.

“Whoa, whoa, Buffy.” Angel stepped into her path and grabbed her by the shoulders. “Buffy, stop.”

“Get off me!” she cried, jerking out of his grasp.

“Buffy, look, I know you’re upset…”

“No!” She looked up at him, eyes bright with fury. “You don’t get to do this. You don’t get to play good cop.”

Angel gave her a pleading look. “Buffy, I’m sorry. I –”

“You what? You sat there in your office, and you comforted me when he died! You said you understood!” Buffy accentuated each sentence by punching him in his bicep. “And you didn’t think I’d want to know he was alive?”

“Of course I did. I just –”

“If the words ‘for your own good’ come out of your mouth, I swear to God, Angel, I will stake you right here.”

Angel quickly shut his mouth, swallowing hard. “Okay,” he said, leading her back into his office and closing the door behind them. “I admit, part of it was selfish. I couldn’t stand the thought of you with him – but I never stopped him, Buffy,” he finished in a rush, as the anger on her face intensified. “I never stopped him from leaving here. Never stopped him from picking up the phone. That was his choice.”

He glanced down at his belongings strewn across the floor and the thin coating of slime on his desk, and he heaved a sigh. Gingerly picking a paperweight off his chair, he sank down in his seat, already weary of the Buffy-and-Spike drama.

“So, you’re saying he just stopped loving me, all on his own?” Buffy asked him, her tone bitter and skeptical.

Angel grimaced. “Is that so hard to believe? Look, I don’t know what went on in Sunnydale, but Spike… I think he likes it here. At any rate, he refuses to leave, and I can’t believe there’s nothing in the world he’d rather do than annoy me.”

“Why didn’t he tell me he was alive?” she asked softly.

“Because he’s an idiot?”

Buffy rolled her eyes. “Could you at least pretend like you give a damn?”

“I mean it,” Angel insisted. “I’m not just saying that because I dislike him.”

“Angel.”

“Sorry. Look, he’s had a lot to deal with, you know? With the ghost thing, and the soul…”

“He had the soul for a year before you came along with your shiny necklace of death!”

Angel held up his hands defensively at the sudden left turn the conversation had taken. “Whoa, whoa, hey! Are you saying this is my fault? Because you were the one who sent me away and gave the amulet to Spike.”

“I know that!” Realizing what she’d just said, her hand flew up to cover her mouth, and she turned away from him.

“Buffy,” he said gently, wishing he could retract his last statement. “You shouldn’t feel guilty.”

Before she could respond, the office door swung open and Gunn stuck his head in. “Hey, what’s going on with Blondie?” he asked, earning a stern glare from Buffy. “Not you,” he clarified quickly. “The usual one.”

Angel took a sidelong glance at Buffy, trying to signal her relevance to Gunn with a subtle jerk of his head in her direction. Gunn just stared at him blankly.

“Gunn, this is Buffy,” Angel tried.

“Buffy? You mean the B– oh.” All the pieces came together, and he looked back over his shoulder, as though Spike were still out in the hall. “Ohhh, right.” He stepped all the way into the room and stuck out his hand. “Charles Gunn. Nice to meet you.”

Frowning, Buffy took his hand. “Great. Apparently my love life is the hot topic at the evil corporate water cooler.”

“And that’s not looking to change any time soon, if Spike keeps punching holes in other people’s offices.” Gunn turned back to Angel. “You might wanna get on that, by the way.”

“I’ll get it fixed,” he said wearily, massaging his forehead with one hand.

“Angel,” Gunn said, with a pointed look. “I’m not just talking about the holes.”

*****

Angel managed to get both of them off his back by promising to talk to Spike, even though it was the last thing he wanted to do. He had enough on his mind without trying to sort out Spike’s issues. He’d barely even had a chance to grieve for Cordy, and here Spike was throwing a tantrum because Buffy happened to show concern for his well-being.

Besides, he knew Spike, and there was no way he was as over Buffy as she seemed to think he was. He could be contrary or deliberately obtuse at times, but when he loved someone, he did it with every fiber of his being, and he was only giving her a hard time because… well, Angel didn’t know why. It didn’t matter why. The point was that Spike would be throwing himself at Buffy’s feet again soon enough, just like he always had with Dru, so why bother rushing the inevitable?

But then again, Spike wasn’t one to give up on something he wanted, and yet he was still here in Los Angeles. He'd never gone after Buffy, never even tried to contact her. Something must have changed since the day he’d popped out of that amulet, but Angel had been too busy thinking of Spike as a pest to bother finding out what it was.

He found Spike in one of the Wolfram & Hart training rooms, beating the hell out of a punching bag. Good to see he’d moved on to something constructive, at least.

“Spike.”

No response, just the slap of flesh on vinyl and the accompanying grunts of effort. Spike kept his eyes on the bag with single-minded focus.

“Spike!”

When he again received no reaction, Angel marched over to the punching bag and grabbed it, pulling it away so that Spike’s fist met nothing but air.

“Hey! Working here, you berk,” he complained, ready to take a swing at Angel if he didn’t relinquish the bag. “Let go.”

“What happened with Buffy?” Angel asked, ignoring his irritation.

“Nothing.”

“So you’re hitting everything in sight over nothing?”

“Yeah, and your face is starting to look pretty appealing,” Spike warned him.

Angel let go of the punching bag, holding his arms out in a “bring it on” gesture. “You wanna give it a go, be my guest.”

Spike hesitated a moment, then flung his fist at Angel’s nose. Angel was expecting it, and ducked out of the way, retaliating with a punch of his own that caught Spike on the jaw.

“What are you so angry about?” Angel asked, blocking a roundhouse kick to his head. “Isn’t this what you always wanted, for Buffy to come chasing after you?” Okay, that came out a little more bitter than he’d intended. All those times they’d fought over Buffy, it had never really been about her, but it still bugged him to have to admit Spike was right. He landed a kick to Spike’s chest, only to have his legs swept out from under him.

“She’s not chasing me, mate,” Spike replied, dodging away as Angel kipped to his feet and launched another attack. “Came here to tell me off. God forbid I make a move without asking her permission.”

“Right.” Angel grabbed Spike by the throat and tossed him into the wall. “I’m sure it’s not because she cared about you or anything.”

“Sure got a funny way of showing it.”

“Bet she’s saying the same thing about you.”

Spike caught him under the chin, snapping his head back. “What, ’cause I didn’t tell her I was alive?”

“I know,” Angel deadpanned. “Girls can be pretty unreasonable about things like that.”

He doubled over from a kick to the gut, and Spike took the opportunity to slam him facedown on the floor. “She lied to me,” he said, as Angel flipped himself over. “Right there at the end. We both knew it. What’s the use of ripping all that open again, hurting us both?”

Angel got to his feet again and punched Spike in the face, catching his tongue between his teeth. Angel could smell the blood welling up. “What the hell’s gotten into you?” he asked. “You’ll argue ’til my ears bleed that what you had with Buffy was real, but now that she’s here, you’re telling me she’s a liar and she doesn’t care about you?”

“Maybe I just like arguing with you,” Spike replied, wiping a spatter of blood from his chin.

In a flash, Angel had twisted Spike’s arm behind his back, forcing him to his knees. Seizing him in a headlock, Angel demanded, “Tell me the truth.”

“Fuck off,” Spike retorted, struggling against the weight of the larger vampire bearing down on him until he was almost doubled over.

“Tell me!” Angel’s hold tightened around his neck, his grip wrenching Spike’s arm at an even more painful angle.

“She doesn’t love me,” Spike said finally, his voice hitching. “You happy now, you asshole? She doesn’t love me; she never loved me. Is that what you want to hear?”

Angel’s iron grasp eased, and instead of being forced to the floor, Spike was suddenly being hugged against the solid chest behind him. “I’m sorry,” Angel murmured, letting him go so quickly it barely even seemed to have happened.

Standing behind him, Angel watched as Spike remained on his knees, his thin shoulders heaving silently. Unexpectedly, he found himself feeling the same way he had when he’d come across Spike in that warehouse, drugged, his hands lying on the table next to him. Seeing him in pain aroused more sympathy than Angel cared to admit.

For all his annoyances and frustrations, Spike was family.

*****

When Angel made it back to the guest suite he’d asked Harmony to arrange for Buffy, he found her on the phone making travel arrangements. “You’re leaving already?”

Buffy hung up and glanced at him from her perch on the sofa, her eyes widening at his torn, rumpled shirt and bruised face. “What happened to you?”

“I asked you first.”

“Yes,” she sighed, tossing her cell phone on the coffee table. “I booked a flight back. No point in staying.”

Well, that stung a little bit. “Don’t – don’t go yet, okay?” Angel asked, leaning over the back of the sofa and running his hands nervously across the cushions. “I haven’t seen you in months, and it’d be a waste if you turned right around and went home.”

Buffy hesitated, trying to read his intentions. With a discomfited expression, she said, “Angel… I came here for Spike.”

“I know.”

“What I mean is that you and I – ”

“I get it, Buffy,” Angel interrupted. For all her confusing talk of cookie dough and thinking ahead, he knew where they stood. He’d known for a long time, really, but old habits died hard. Their time had passed.

Maybe he should just let her go. Asking her to remain in Los Angeles would only put her in Spike’s path, and while he had great confidence in Spike’s ability to screw this up all on his own, he didn’t exactly want a front row seat to the show. If Spike was going to be an idiot and drive her away, there was no reason he should interfere.

“No pressure or anything,” he found himself saying. “Just… stay.”

“Angel, I really don’t –”

“Is it because you don’t trust me?”

She stared at him blankly. “What are you talking about?”

“Andrew,” he reminded her. “When he was here with his slayer posse, he said none of you trusted me anymore.”

Buffy smirked. “News flash. Giles and Xander never trusted you.”

“He mentioned you specifically.”

“Did he?” she replied, although her tone of voice made it hardly seem like a question. “Andrew has a very… special relationship with the truth.”

A tiny smile crept onto his face. “So I’ve noticed.”

“You know me better than that, Angel.” She gave him a wry grin. “If I thought you were evil, I’d kill you myself.”

“Comforting. So, come on, then,” he said, taking a seat next to her. “Just stay for a few days?”

She opened her mouth to protest, then reconsidered and nodded. “Now you wanna tell me who beat you up?”

“Spike. Who else?”

Again, she appeared ill at ease. “Please tell me you weren’t fighting over me.”

Angel gave her a sheepish look. “Well, not in the conventional sense, no.”

“It’s my fault, isn’t it?” she asked, tears welling up in her eyes. “I asked for too much. I sent him off to die. I don’t blame him for not – Who would do that to someone they love?”

He slid an arm around her, pulling her into his chest. “Buffy, what happened to Spike was nobody’s fault.”

“Do you really believe that, or is it just what you tell yourself so you don’t have to feel guilty?”

Angel flinched. He had tried to avoid thinking about it, but he was haunted by the knowledge that the amulet had been meant for him. Wolfram & Hart must have expected him to wear it when Lilah gave it to him. Everything Spike had been through – burning up, getting trapped in the amulet, being a ghost – all that was supposed to happen to him. Spike might have tried to steal his destiny, but he had already taken his punishment.

“Sorry,” Buffy said. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

He shook his head. “Look, none of us knew what that amulet was going to do. Of course there was a chance it was dangerous. But Spike chose to be a hero.”

“Because I gave it to him,” Buffy insisted. “He wouldn’t have said no to me.”

“Because it was the right thing to do,” Angel said. “I think he – he wants to be a champion. Wanted it enough to try and take it away from me, at least.”

“I guess you’d know better than I would these days, huh?” she replied, with just a touch of envy in her voice. “Since he’s been here all this time. I still can’t get my head around the idea of you two working together.”

“Technically, we don’t work together. Spike just, you know, helps out occasionally.”

“But you’re not trying to kill each other?”

Angel leaned back against the couch and sighed. “Most days.”