"Guys! I need help with this… thing!" Buffy called down from upstairs. "I'm trying to gift-wrap it, but… I think I used too many stakes – or not enough. I can't wrestle all these off-shoots at once!"

"Do you think you need magic help, Buffy?" Willow called out in concern.

"I need all the help, Will!" Buffy called back. "I'm trying but… Wah! I suck at this. I want it to be good, but I just can't get it right!"

"It's okay, we're coming Buffy!" Xander assured her as he and Willow heading upstairs to help her. Angel and Spike glanced at each other. What in the world was Buffy planning on giving them?

"Spike and Angel aren't here yet, are they?" Buffy sounded panicked. "I don't want to leave them waiting!"

"They're both here, Buffy!" Dawn called out. "But you don't have to rush. I think they could both use a little time to… sort themselves out." She paused. "I'll come up and help you too!" Dawn turned to Angel and Spike. "I'll leave this here," she placed the re-filled mug of blood on the coffee table. "And I'll hide this," she quickly picked up the timber fragments from the broken side table. "Please guys, just… make yourselves presentable, okay? You know Buffy doesn't like the two of you fighting. In fact she'd love to see you guys playing nice together even more than I would."

Angel frowned. "By playing nice you mean…"

"I mean she fantasises about it." Dawn grinned.

"Really? Exactly what do you mean by…" Spike began.

"Spike, Angel, just kiss and make up, like you promised, okay? And fix your hair."

…

"Guess Dawn's right. We better make ourselves presentable so Buffy doesn't suspect anything," Spike admitted.

"Yeah," Angel surveyed Spike's bedraggled appearance. "Or she'll think I've been slapping you around more than I have." Angel offered a hand and pulled Spike to his feet. "You look like you just crawled out of your grave."

Reluctantly Spike shrugged out of his ruined coat, and set it aside. "Guess they don't make 'em like they used to." He attempted to straighten the shirt Angel had lent him, trying to smooth out the wrinkles and re-folded the cuffs. "This doesn't fit me proper," he complained. "Bloody hell Angel, do I still look ridiculous?"

Angel glanced at him. "Your hair," he told him. "It's going every which way. You might want to fix that."

Spike sighed. "Yeah well, didn't exactly bring any…"

"Hair product?" Angel anticipated. "Here. Use mine." He reached into his pocket and brought out a tub of hair mousse."

Spike looked at it, reluctantly. "You know, Angel, we could just slip out now. Avoid the whole goodbye hoo-ha. Mysterious, like. Isn't that more your style?"

"Yeah, I really hate goodbyes," Angel sat down again and brooded while Spike fixed his hair. "You know Spike, there's another way to avoid goodbyes," he said quietly. This was the topic he'd been waiting for the right moment to bring up.

"And that is?"

"By not leaving. Are you sure you want to come back to LA just yet? Maybe you could talk to Buffy about staying here for a while. You're had an okay weekend, right?"

"It's been okay, s'pose. Apart from all the interrogations, that rude awakening, oh, and the fact you nearly came to stake me last night."

"So the bits that weren't great were pretty much my fault."

"Damn right. You're to blame for everything, as far as I'm concerned," Spike started on one of his annoying rants, possibly to avoid the topic more than anything else. "And I don't just mean this weekend, I mean everything. From me being a vampire, for my tragic love-life, for giving Buffy that amulet that torched me in the hell mouth, for being resurrected in LA, right down to how come you were in such a hurry to leave on Friday that I forgot my hair products and now I've had to use your nancy-boy goop. Can smell the darn stuff all over me now. All your fault."

"Really?" Angel was confused. "My fault? Thought you said the other night that it was just my guilt talking."

Spike scoffed. "Just cos you're an ego-maniac with a massive guilt-complex, doesn't mean it's not your fault, Angel. And just 'cause I'm not about to kill you just yet, doesn't mean I don't still hate for everything you've done to me."

Angel smiled a little. For some reason he found it oddly comforting to know Spike blamed him for everything.

"No need to beat yourself up about it though. You got me for that. All you gotta do is ask." Spike assured, sitting down next to Angel. Having done what he could to his hair he picked up the mug of blood and took a tentative sip.

"Make sure you drink all that," Angel told him as he watched Spike closely. "If you are coming back with me, I don't want to put up with any more memory lapses on the drive to LA." He suspected Spike hadn't been getting enough blood lately. It was something he should have been keeping a closer eye on.

"You're really worried about me, aren't you?" Spike said over his mug, serious suddenly.

Angel was silent.

"And I don't just mean about this venom thing. That's wearing off now. I'll be fine. Still, good thing you came to check on me when you did. I was in deep. Bloody rough going coming out of it. Lucky you weren't adverse to knocking me round good and proper."

Angel winced. He actually felt really bad about that. He was surprised Spike didn't have a splitting headache, the way he'd slammed him against that brick wall. It only reinforced what he feared about their relationship. "Look Spike," he tried again, "the truth is, I just don't know if it's the best thing for you to be around me."

Spike paused cautiously. "Don't say that, Angel."

"You should stay here. With Buffy and the others."

"What the bloody hell are you on about, Angel?"

"You get along with Buffy and with the Scoobies. And with Dawn. I know Xander's looking for a housemate and…"

"Seriously? Is that what this weekend's all been about? Angel, you're… You're breaking up with me?"

"Don't be ridiculous." Angel expected Spike to be joking but when he looked at him he seemed genuinely hurt.

"Leave me out in the soddin' cold, on my own? Thought you felt responsible for me. You avoiding your responsibilities now? Why don't you just bloody stake me!" Spike swore stroppily.

"Don't be dramatic. You wouldn't be out in the cold. Buffy and the others would make sure you were okay. I'm trying to do the right thing here, Spike. Let's be honest here, okay? You can't deny you've been doing pretty poorly lately. Every time I've come round your place is a mess and you're either still in bed or out in some bar somewhere."

"I do what I want," Spike huffed.

"You're not looking after yourself. You drink more alcohol than blood. Turn up to work late, or not at all."

"Didn't realise you were checking up on me," Spike frowned, sulkily.

"You've been so moody and sullen I can hardly get a word out of you…"

"You're one to talk."

"The only time I see a spark of life in you is when I take you out to kill some evil things and then half the time you go all out in the fight, to the point I wonder if I should hold you back."

"You say that like it's a bad thing."

"Regardless of whether I want to, I just don't know if I can help you, Spike," Angel finished.

Spike looked up at Angel. "You sure you should be so keen to ditch me? Angel, you don't have a team at the moment. You don't even have a secretary. You got an empty hotel and a few random clients."

"What's your point?"

"Maybe I'm not the only one in need of help." Spike looked up at Angel. "You still got some blood on your face, by the way," he smirked.

Angel sighed and wiped his face. "Exactly. It's not like I've got my own life sorted right now, and with you on top of everything else, I don't know if I can handle it."

"Don't expect you to have all the answers, Angel… why do you always think you've got to be so bloody in control all the time?"

"I just… want to make sure that my actions are not going to cause more pain and suffering down the track…"

"Doesn't work like that though, does it? Life? There's no master plan to follow. No road map. Can't see what's coming 'til we're in the middle of it. Just gotta play each day as it comes."

Angel sighed. Spike was getting awfully philosophical on him all of a sudden.

Spike sensing Angel's discomfort, switched to a more casual tact. "We're not doin' so bad, Angel. Three years in LA together, you haven't lost your soulful convictions, and I haven't offed myself. Not bad, all things considered."

"Jeez, Spike!" Angel stared at him, incredulous at his ability to give such a black recap in such a cheery tone. It almost made him laugh. "You really are an idiot, know that?"

…

Spike and Angel were out on the porch when Buffy finally came downstairs. Spike had found a couple of stray cigarettes in one of the pockets of his ruined coat and Angel had surprisingly taken up his offer of a smoke, maybe because it gave them something to do other than talk to each other.

When Buffy came out onto the porch, Angel hurriedly dropped his cigarette and stubbed it out, as embarrassed as a teen caught smoking by a parent which Spike found amusing.

The Scoobies gathered around as Buffy held out something wrapped in gaudy shiny paper and ribbons. "Angel, Spike, I got something for you. I hope you like it," she said nervously, waiting expectantly.

After putting out his own cigarette, Spike took the offered gift and stared at it, his expression unreadable. "What is this?" he asked. Peeping out the top of the gaudy wrapping were yellow, pink and orange flowers.

"Oh, I get it. Bright coloured, happy flowers," Angel observed. "Zinnias right?" he guessed correctly.

Buffy nodded. "The guys and I wanted to get you both something. It's a pot plant. A gift for your office. I thought maybe Angel can learn about flowers, and Spike, well, I thought they might help cheer you up."

Spike felt overcome and didn't know what to say. He turned his back to her, looking peculiarly like he was closely studying Angel's sleeve. None of the others could see his face.

"Is he okay?" Willow asked, quizzical at his weird behaviour. "I thought the effect of the venom had worn off now."

"What venom?" Buffy asked.

"It has worn off," Angel assured them even though Spike appeared to be practically leaning against him. "Come on Spike, you big sap. Is that any way to respond when someone gives you a nice present? Be polite and say thank you to Buffy."

"Don't you like it?" Dawn asked in disappointment.

"No, no. Guys…" Angel tried to explain. "You don't understand. He likes it. He does. Right, Spike?"

Finally Spike turned around. "Thanks," he gulped. His cheeks were clearly wet with tears.

"Aww, I'm going to miss you guys." Buffy threw her arms around them both tightly, the pot plant getting a little bit squashed in the middle of the three-way hug. "Take care of each other for me, okay?"

"Don't worry, Buff. I won't let the big sod get too happy," Spike assured.

"And I'll keep an eye on Spike. If I think he's getting depressed at all, I'll give you a call, or we'll come for another visit."

"Whenever you want. Don't be strangers," Buffy told them.

"Group hug?" Dawn suggested and she, Willow, and even Xander joined in before Angel and Spike headed to their car for the road trip home.