Angel smiled to himself as he stood over the stove, pouring a small saucepan of heated blood into a large tumbler. He drank his meal without hurry, casually tidying the kitchen between mouthfuls. Eventually, he drained his glass, rinsed it, and left it to dry, walking out of the kitchen pleasantly satisfied.

Angel strolled up to his bookshelf and ran his hand along it, picking out a book at random. He relaxed against the shelf and opened it.

"There pass the careless people
That call their souls their own;
Here by the road I loiter,
How idle and alone.

Ah, past the plunge of plummet,
In seas I cannot sound,
My heart and soul and senses,
World without end, are drowned.

His folly has not fellow
Beneath the blue of day
That gives to man or woman
His heart and soul away."

Angel grimaced, slammed the book shut, and replaced it on the shelf with a violent shove. He immediately walked over to the couch and collapsed onto it.

And there, for hours, he lay, staring into the darkness.

Giles squinted and grimaced as he opened the door and the setting sun hit him full in the face. Eventually he identified the person standing on his doorstep. "Xander?"

"Hi, Giles."

"Is everything all right?"

Xander nodded. "I'm fine. I just... need some advice."

"Oh," said Giles, stepping back and opening the door wide. "Uh, please, uh, come in."

"Thanks." Xander wandered in, spent a moment shifting nervously from foot to foot, then planted himself on the couch, staring at the wall.

Giles watched this process with concern and then walked over to perch himself on the edge of his desk. "What is it?"

Xander bit his lip for a second, then turned to face Giles, a solemnly serious expression on his face. "Giles," he said, "you've always been like a father to me, and... is there a more cliched way I could have started this conversation?"

Giles rolled his eyes upward and nodded slightly. "You wouldn't get any marks for originality."

"Or flattery."

"But I appreciate the sentiment."

"It's just... well, it's kinda... confusing to be a teenager, y'know? I mean, things are apt to get a bit peer-pressurey, and so it's just easier to go along with what people expect of you. Especially with the personal relationships thing... even when it's not really what you want."

Xander paused and swallowed nervously.

Giles frowned. "Is this about Anya?"

"What? No. I mean, sort of, but... no. I just mean, because of all the confusion and the peer-pressure, it's easy to make mistakes. Like, really bad ones. 'Cause you're confused and peer-pressured and... stuff."

Giles tilted his head and squinted slightly. "Is this about Willow?"

"What?! No. I mean, in a way, but... no. What I mean is, because of that peer-pressure thing I keep mentioning, it seems like a good idea to try to cover up what you really want because... it'll never work... or people will laugh at you or... something."

Giles frowned again and nervously adjusted his glasses. "Is this about Buffy?"

"What? No. Well, in sort of a really indirect way, maybe, but... it just..." Xander clenched his fists and exhaled in frustration. He suddenly relaxed and turned to Giles with a defeated look of calmness. "What I'm trying to say is--"

Without even a knock, the door suddenly crashed open and Buffy came charging through. "Ghost," she stated, planting her feet in the middle of the room and crossing her arms.

Xander turned and replied immediately, and with an annoyed flatness that was completely lost on her, "Busters."

"Exactly," said Buffy, as Willow appeared in the doorway behind her, grinning apologetically. "And we've got one that needs busting. Tonight."

"Er--Buffy," Giles stuttered, "I-I assume that you're familiar with the concept of... the doorbell?"

Buffy glanced back at the open door and quickly shrugged. "No time. Busting."

"V-very well," said Giles, rising from his seat. "I'll collect a few things here... we'll need to determine the precise type of the phantasm before we can exorcise or banish it." He walked over to a table and began to sort through the books that were laid out upon it. "Willow, could you stop by the magic shop and pick up the ingredients for a standard exorcism? We can work from there."

Willow nodded, and Giles turned to Buffy.

"Now, wh-where did this, um, appartition... manifest itself?"

"In the library."

"The library?" repeated Giles, shocked. "In the high school?"

"No, at the university."

"Oh," said Giles, adjusting his glasses, "dear."

"Let's get going," said Buffy, turning back to the door.

Xander quickly got up from the couch and spoke. "Um...."

The others turned.

Xander hesitated, but eventually forced words out. "I know this probably isn't the best time, what with the impending exorcism and all, but since you're all here, there's something I have to tell you." He finished with a slight nervous tremble in his voice.

"Yes, Xander?" said Giles.

"I'm g--" As he looked around at their placidly expectant faces, his heart failed him. "I'm going to move to LA," he said, hanging his head. "Strike five," he muttered to himself.

"LA?" Buffy suppressed a nervous laugh. "You?"

"Yes, I as in me," Xander replied, slightly annoyed.

"Why?" asked Buffy.

"Well, I'm paying rent and having trouble holding a job here anyway," said Xander, airily. "Might as well do it somewhere with a lower death rate."

"Working your way down the death rate scale pretty slowly, there."

"Yeah, well, I thought about Wyoming, but it just wouldn't feel like home if people weren't being murdered every night."

"But what about the team?" asked Willow.

Xander looked down. "I'm sure you'll do fine without me."

Buffy frowned.

Giles shook his head. "I can recall several distinct occasions... where you were instrumental in the foiling of the... evil plans of our adversaries."

Xander looked at him with a doubtful expression.

"Not to mention the moral support," said Willow, smiling, "and the humor."

Xander shook his head and looked down again. "Hey, Oz can tell a better joke in two words than I can in two hundred."

Everyone was silent for a moment.

"Are you really leaving?" asked Willow.

Xander nodded.

"What are you going to do there?"

Xander sighed. "I've got a place to stay... at least for a while. Then I guess I'll just start the job hopping again."

Everyone seemed to find the pattern on the carpet very interesting until Buffy suddenly raised her head again. "Ghost."

Everyone else looked up, and Xander nodded firmly. "Right."

Giles hesitated only a moment before gathering his books and walking to the door to open it. "We'll meet at the library, then."

"It's a plan," said Buffy. The gang began to file out.

"Buffy," said Giles, as he held the door open for them, "do you still have that book I asked you to check out from the library?"

Buffy stopped short. "Yeah, I do. It's back in my room." She frowned guiltily. "I think it's a little... overdue."

Giles did not look entirely pleased, but said, "Well, it's just as well. Bring it with you and we'll all meet at the library."

"Bring it? Why?"

"I'm assuming now that you didn't read the chapter on phantasms."

Buffy forced a guilty apologetic smile. "There was a chapter on phantasms?"

Giles shook his head. "If you weren't going to read it, why did you check it out?"

"I _was_ going to read it," said Buffy, as she passed him on her way out, "but if you had a choice between reading a moldy old book and slaying a vampire, which would you choose?"

"Definitely the book," said Giles, and closed the door behind them.

There was a loud clunk as the lights in the library shut down for the night. Once the reverberations died away, a quiet succession of footfalls echoed distantly. Then a door was closed and locked, and then... silence.

A blond head suddenly poked out from behind one of the stacks.

"Is the coast clear?" Willow's voice asked.

Buffy nodded and stepped out from behind the shelves. Willow followed.

"Where's Xander?" she asked.

"Asleep," said Oz, appearing from behind another shelf. He walked over to the next aisle and reached down to tap Xander on the shoulder.

Xander started, looked around, and quickly stood up. "I'm here. Awake. Yes."

"And where's Giles?" asked Buffy.

Giles appeared, walking into the aisle from behind yet another row of shelves, his nose buried in a large, dusty tome. "The occult collection here is not what one might hope," he said, vaguely, "but they do have some interesting selections. Did you know that a Kret'tar demon requires the blood of three of its own kind in order to mate?"

Buffy's look of disgust was immediate. "No, and I didn't really need to, either."

Together, they walked out from the maze of stacks and gathered around a large table, where Willow and Buffy placed their bags.

"Okay," said Buffy. "Now what do we do?"

Giles finally put his book down. "Well, before we can start the exorcism, we still need to determine exactly what type of phantasm is manifesting."

"And to do that...?" asked Buffy.

"We'll need the ghost."

Xander sat on the edge of the table and kicked his feet back and forth. "So, how long until the corporeally challenged miscreant gets here?"

"Forgot to put a time on the invitations," said Oz.

Buffy looked around for a moment, impatience growing almost immediately. "What if it doesn't show?"

Giles frowned, considering. "We could perform a... a beckoning spell, to force the spirit to manifest."

Everyone shivered as a chill draft suddenly swept through the room. "Or, we could..." Xander looked up suddenly, alarmed. "Duck!" he yelled.

They all dove for cover as a pale, glowing... something hurtled over them.

Buffy was the first to recover. "Okay, wait's over," she said, rising to a fighting stance, glaring at the apparition that was circling the room.

It resembled nothing so much as a mess of tattered rags flying through the air, emanating an etherial glow. Suddenly it turned, facing directly towards Buffy, and, with an unearthly roar, flew directly at her.

Buffy dove and tumbled, taking cover behind a table. The apparition turned about and swept down again, forcing her to scramble under the table and roll away. The apparition hung back to circle, continuing to make its roaring noise, which began to sound like a chorus of strained voices, echoing strangely throughout the vast space of the library. "Back..." they said, over and over. "Back...."

Again and again it swept down, each time forcing Buffy out of her cover and over ever more complicated obstacles. She tumbled over and around tables, chairs, desks, shelves... over and over.

Giles and Willow sat huddled together under a table, hunched over a book. Giles, in a forceful but troubled voice, read out the incantations, constantly working to keep the pages of the book open as the apparition created fierce gusts of wind with each pass. Willow, following along, would occasionally release small doses of powder into the air as the ghost swept past, but each dose shimmered only momentarily before vanishing completely.

Buffy, meanwhile, was still performing a compulsory acrobatic routine as the apparition again and again forced her out from under cover. Finally she leaped behind a large set of encyclopedias, and the ghost, momentarily thwarted, went back to circling, howling ever louder.

"All right," Buffy yelled out to the others, panting slightly from exertion, "this game of dodge-ghost is getting old. You guys can start with the exorcism any day now."

Giles and Willow completed another failed incantation, and then Giles looked up nervously at the circling spirit. "We haven't yet been able to determine the precise type of phantasm," Giles called, over the growing din. "And it's not usual for a phantasm to immediately exhibit violence in this manner. Something must be wrong."

Again, the ghost raced down at Buffy, forcing her flat to the floor behind the encyclopedias. The voices were screaming, "Give it back! Give it back!"

Buffy blew dust from her face as she lifted herself from the floor. "What does this thing want?" she asked, exasperated.

Xander suddenly poked his head up. "The book!"

"What?"

"The book!" he repeated. Seeing Buffy's confused look, he stood and began to look around wildly.

Oz suddenly stood as well. "There," he called, pointing. Xander turned and sighted Buffy's book bag still lying on the table where she had left it. He turned and started to run towards it, but the ghost flew down again, forcing him to dive over a table and tumble to the floor.

Grunting, he quickly crawled the remaining yards and grabbed Buffy's backpack. He frantically searched through it, finally finding the book and whipping it out. The apparition immediately shrieked and turned directly towards him, seething. Xander quickly held the book aloft as if it were a shield, wincing and turning his head away as the apparition suddenly launched itself at him, screeching a piercing chorus.

And then it was gone.

Xander looked up to find the book no longer in his hands. He stood up and suddenly noticed a short, prim, translucent woman standing before him, leafing through the book with a small smile on her face.

The rest of the gang slowly rose from the floor and stared in silence at the small figure, dressed in a long dark skirt and plain white blouse, hair pulled severely back in a neat bun, glasses perched on the end of her nose.

Eventually she closed the book with a tiny satisfied sigh, held it high above her head, and suddenly flicked her wrist. The book shot through the air, making Buffy dive again for cover, and flew with supernatural precision directly into the book return slot, landing inside with a loud thud. When everyone turned back to see the ghost, she was gone. All that remained was the slightly rusty squeak of the flap over the book return slot, as it swung back and forth, slowly coming to rest.

There followed a moment of deathly silence before anyone moved.

"Well, that was anti-climactic," said Xander.

Giles pulled off his glasses. Oz straightened his shirt. Willow brushed off her sweater and gathered her belongings. Buffy stood up from the floor and looked around guiltily. "I guess it really wanted that book."

Giles sighed. "You could say that." He put his glasses back on. "We'd better get out of here in case campus security comes to check on the noise." Xander, Willow, and Oz quietly followed him as he began to walk, tiredly, towards the exit.

Buffy just stood where she was and looked on in confusion. "Wait, you mean we're not going to exorcise it?"

"No," said Giles, over his shoulder.

"Well, what _are_ we going to do?"

Giles turned back to face her. "In the future, I would suggest you return your library books--" He tilted his head down and fixed a stare on her over the rim of his glasses. "--on time."

Buffy rolled her eyes. "You can take the librarian out of the library..."

"I heard that," called Giles without turning back again, already well on his way to the stairs. "And don't forget to pay your fine."

*****
Part 5:

Angel's apartment was deathly silent before the sound of the lift motor suddenly rent the air and Doyle slowly came into view. When the elevator stopped, he tentatively pushed the gate open, looking around at the darkness. "Angel?"

"Doyle." Angel stepped out of the shadows.

Doyle jumped slightly and turned to face Angel, nodding. He began to look around somewhat nervously, then met Angel's eyes again. "Hi."

"Hi."

Doyle hesitated again. "You got any Scotch?"

Angel nodded almost imperceptibly and walked past Doyle into the kitchen. Doyle followed, fidgeting nervously. Angel retrieved the bottle and two glasses, placed them on the table, and quickly poured out two shots as Doyle sat down. Doyle reached for one glass and downed it with grateful alacrity, then leaned back in his chair with a satisfied sigh.

Angel simply sat, slowly turning his unemptied glass in his hand as it rested on the table.

Doyle watched for a minute, then shook his head. "You're right. Silent brooding _is_ your specialty."

Angel looked up and just stared back.

"You wanna tell me what's up?"

Angel looked back down at his glass. He sat there silently for a moment before answering quietly, "I'm wondering if this isn't a mistake after all."

Doyle frowned. "Yesterday you told me you were more sure of this than of--"

"It doesn't take much brooding to turn a little confidence into a lot of doubt."

Doyle shook his head. "You've got to stop this."

Angel grimaced. "I have two modes with people: bite and avoid. It's hard to get out of that."

"Angel, man, never presume you're friendless. I have, for a long time, and it's not the way to go."

Angel looked down.

"I mean, I'm your friend, right?"

Angel looked at Doyle and then at the bottle. "As long as I don't run out of Scotch."

"See? Banter. That's friendly." Doyle poured himself another drink. "And I don't know now whether you like women at all, but you can't tell me that you don't at least have a fatherly sort of affection for Cordelia."

Angel turned away with a slightly exasperated expression, but could not protest. "She's vulnerable. She brings that out in people."

"No," said Doyle. "She brings that out in _you_. Most people think she's tough as nails."

Angel smiled slightly for a moment before his face fell again. "My successful interpersonal relationships are few and far between."

Doyle raised his glass in a salute. "Join the club." He downed the shot and went to pour another. "But it's a great loss when you just shut people out."

"Said the pot to the kettle," finished Angel, with a sidelong glance at Doyle.

"Hey," said Doyle, as he raised his glass to his lips, "just because I give advice doesn't mean I'm any good at taking it." He hesitated before drinking, and then returned his glass to the table and leaned forward. "Seriously, though, you've done more for me than you know... giving my life _purpose_. It's terrible to live without purpose."

"I know."

"I know you do, and so I'm thanking you."

Angel looked up at Doyle. "You're welcome. I just," he continued, looking away again, "wonder if it's all worth it."

Doyle looked at Angel for a moment, considering. "I saw you smile at him once. I mean, I've seen you smile before... on rare occasions, but nothing like... I mean, it made me feel all... gushy inside. And that's saying a lot. Usually the only things that make me feel gushy inside are vast quantities of liquor, and Cordelia."

Angel grinned reluctantly. "Are you sure it wasn't just the liquor?"

Doyle downed the shot he had been holding, and placed the glass firmly down on the table. "Yesh."

Angel laughed quietly. "How is Cordelia?"

Doyle smiled blearily. "Cordelia's playing hard to get...." His smile fell into a frown. "That is, she went on a date with another man."

Angel gave Doyle a sympathetic look. "I'm sure she'll come around."

Doyle shrugged. "Who's doubting? Only I'd prefer if it were sooner rather than later."

Angel smiled and turned to stare into the darkness.

"Look, man," said Doyle, after watching him for a moment, "if he means that much to you, why don't you go for it?"

Angel scoffed quietly and looked down into his glass again. "Xander's so young. And he's _scared_. And I'm not just a vampire, I'm a vampire with... baggage. What if he doesn't..." Angel broke off and looked away.

"'Cause y'know that way you smile at him?" Angel looked up and met Doyle's eyes, suddenly desperate. "That's the way he smiles at you."

Oz grabbed the remote control and collapsed on the couch beside Xander.

"Thanks for letting me hang, man," said Xander.

Oz gave a little shrug. "Anytime. May be our last chance for a while."

"Yeah."

Oz frowned at what was on the screen and flipped the channel. "LA." It was a statement and a question rolled into one.

"Yep. Big city. Movin' up in the world. Well, maybe just down and to the left... I mean, southwest."

"Place to stay?"

"Uh huh." Xander hesitated nervously, eyes still on the TV, before continuing. "With a friend."

Several commercials blared by before Oz spoke. "Someone you met last week?"

"Yes--I mean, no. Knew him before, I just... know him better now."

Oz just nodded. He flipped the channel again. He stared in disbelief for a moment at the commercial running on the new channel and then flipped yet again. "Drag about Anya," he said, after a while.

Xander was slightly startled, but still kept watching the TV. "Not really," he said, attempting to sound casual. "It's... better this way."

Oz nodded and fiddled with the volume. Xander looked down and fiddled with the fabric of his pants bunched at his knee.

"Look, man," said Xander, turning towards Oz but still not looking up. "About that...."

There was a knock at the door, making them both look up, and Willow suddenly bounced cheerily into the room. "Hi, guys!" she exclaimed with a wave, immediately planting herself on the arm of the couch beside Oz. He looked up at her, smiled, and placed an arm around her waist. Xander bit his lip and turned back to face the television. "Surfin' the airwaves?" she asked.

"Guess so," said Oz.

"Strike six," muttered Xander, still staring at the TV.

"What?" asked Willow, still bright and smiling.

"Trail mix?" Xander asked, grabbing a bowl from the coffee table and offering it to her with a smile.

"No, thanks," said Willow. "Whatcha watchin'?"

"Dunno," said Oz.

"You don't know? What were you doing, talking?"

Oz shrugged.

Willow grinned. "Making out?"

Xander immediately choked and hunched forward, sending little bits of trail mix flying across the table.

Oz glanced quickly at Xander and then looked up at Willow, grabbing her attention with his eyes. "Naw, just zonin'."

Willow smiled and nodded. Xander managed to surreptitiously clear his throat and they all turned back to the television.

Willow looked down at Oz for a moment and asked, "You done with the notes from last class?"

"Yeah, thanks," he replied, not turning away from the screen.

All three fell into silence for a while.

Xander eventually quit fiddling with his pants and got up. "I should go."

"No, stay," said Willow, gesturing back at the couch.

Xander shook his head. "I've got to finish packing."

Willow frowned and nodded. "So is this goodbye?"

"Um..." said Xander, looking around nervously. "Nah. I'm sure I'll see you guys tomorrow."

As Xander started to walk towards the door, Oz unexpectedly put out his hand. Xander, startled, awkwardly took it and shook it, suddenly releasing it and dodging when he realized he was blocking the television. Oz, however, kept his gaze on Xander and just nodded slightly.

"Oh, by the way," said Willow, offhandedly. "Giles said he wanted you to stop by tomorrow to pick up some books to deliver to Angel... if you don't mind, that is."

"'Course not. I mean, courier boy, that's me. Any particular time?"

"Four p.m. sharp."

"That's specific."

"Well, you know Giles. 'You can take the librarian out of the library...'"

"...and he'll still angst about overdue books. Point taken." Xander waved and was out the door.

"Hello, Giles!" said Xander with unnecessary cheerfulness as Giles answered the door. "Mobile library here. You wanted me to pick up some books?"

"Yes, Xander, please come in."

Xander turned around to grab the handle of a large duffel bag that he had apparently been dragging behind himself, along with an overstuffed backpack slung over his shoulder and another large bag in his other hand.

"Xander, wh-why are you carrying all that with you?" asked Giles.

Xander struggled through the door and turned to answer. "My mom thr--oh, wow," he said, as he noticed the room was decked with colored streamers. And Willow, Oz, and Buffy there waiting for him. And a large cake on the table with "Good Luck, Xander" written across it.

Xander swallowed and bit his lip. "Th-thanks, guys," he stuttered after a moment, starting to smile.

Willow walked forward and hugged him. "We couldn't let you leave again without saying goodbye."

The room stood still for a moment.

"And we can't say goodbye without a cake," said Buffy, smiling. "And a party!" She hit the play button on the boom box sitting behind her, and the room was immediately filled with sound.

The tension broke, and everyone moved comfortably again. Cake and soda were passed around, and everyone chatted and joked as if they were just hanging out.

Later on, Willow cornered Xander for a private chat while Buffy and Oz tried to decide what disc to play after the current one finished and Giles went to get more ice from the freezer.

"Were you really just going to go without saying goodbye to anyone?"

Xander looked down. "It's hard, Willow. I didn't know if I could face it--face you guys. It's easier to run away."

"Is that why you're leaving again? Running away?"

"Maybe partly. But I have to go. I've lived in Sunnydale all my life and it's time for a change, before I become the permanent townie."

"Would that be so bad?" Willow asked, smiling.

"Yes," said Xander with emphasis, looking away. "I don't think I'll ever get to be who I should be, here. Maybe I'll come back, but I need to get away for now."

"This sounds... a little familiar."

"Yeah, but all I didn't get very far with that trip... in mileage or personal growth. It's time to face my... demons."

"What's gone so wrong? Why do you have to leave to sort things out?" Willow appeared to be on the verge of tears.

"I'm sorry, Willow. I'm really not doing this to hurt you, or anyone."

Willow bit her lip and looked around. She spotted Xander's bags and changed the subject. "Wow, did you pack everything you own in those things?"

"Pretty much everything I need."

"Why are you carrying it around now?"

"Well, my mom kinda evicted me from the basement."

"What? Why?"

Suddenly, the music stopped playing.

"Well, it could be because I told her that I'm gay," said Xander, still at the volume necessary to speak over the music. He cringed as he heard the final word reverberate throughout the room.

Buffy turned, slackjawed. Willow just stared, her face blank with confusion.

Curiously enough, it was Oz who broke the silence. "Whoa," he said softly, an odd suggestion of a smile on his face.

Giles walked into the room, carrying a small cooler of ice. He looked about, puzzled, when he noticed that no one was talking or moving.

"Wh-what's going on?"

No one spoke for a moment.

"Xander's _gay_," said Buffy, with incredulity.

Giles turned to Xander, the cooler still clutched tightly in his hands. "Xander?"

Xander sighed. "Yes," he admitted.

There was another uncomfortable pause.

"Is that why you're leaving?" asked Willow.

"Sort of," replied Xander.

"You don't have to go," said Willow.

"Well, I have to go somewhere since my mom threw me out, and I'm carrying everything I own with me."

"Your mom threw you _out_?" asked Buffy, still incredulous.

"Yeah, when I told her she argued with me for a bit, then told me to get out. So I handed her a book and the phone numbers of some support groups and then left. Fortunately I was mostly packed. It's no big deal. I mean, since I was leaving anyway."

"Oh, Xander," said Willow, moving forward and wrapping her arms tightly around him. He looked relieved.

"I still don't get it," said Buffy, shaking her head.

"It's okay," said Xander, as Willow released him. "I'm sure that college-level education will kick in soon.... I mean, hey, it took me long enough to figure it out." He looked down nervously.

"I may not get it," Buffy replied, after a moment, "but you're still my friend." She walked over and hugged him briefly. "I'll miss you," she said, unable to keep some amazement out of her voice.

Xander suppressed a chuckle. "Thanks, Buffy. I'll miss you, too."

Giles walked over and placed his hand on Xander's shoulder. "Xander, if you ever have any trouble, know that we--all of us--will always be here for you. No matter what."

"Thanks, Giles. That means a lot. Really."

Oz just smiled slightly and nodded at Xander. Xander smiled nervously and nodded back. Oz placed a new disc in the boom box, and hit play. Once again the tension was washed away by the noise and everyone went for seconds on the cake.

Only now, the conversation wasn't so normal.

Buffy and Willow began quizzing Xander on various topics, what his various heterosexual relationships had meant, what guys at school he found cute. Soon he was being asked to rate most of the males in their graduating class on a scale of one to ten. And argued with vehemently over some ratings.

"Eight?! You thought he was cute? Really? You have _so_ got to be kidding me."

"Well, actually, I was kind of in denial, so really I thought that I didn't think he was cute. Sort of."

From there it moved to celebrities.

"Joey or Chandler?"

"Uh... Chandler, I guess. I dunno."

"Dawson or Pacey?"

"_Jack_."

Xander appeared calm and relaxed, but there was a tinge of disappointment at yet again playing the role of the clown, the comedian, the evening's entertainment. Buffy asked the most questions, and appeared to be having a great time, but there was a slightly hysterical edge to her laughter. Willow, while appearing slightly concerned from time to time, followed Buffy's lead, and allowed herself to be amused by Xander's responses.

Oz, rather left out by the conversational topics, soon became engrossed in the liner notes of the disc that was playing. Giles sat nearby and listened to the girls' barrage of questions in some amazement, periodically removing and replacing his glasses.

Eventually Xander glanced nervously at the clock and announced that he would have to leave soon in order to catch his bus.

"I'll give you a ride to the station," said Giles, rising.

"We'll stay here and clean up," said Buffy.

Everyone followed Giles and Xander to the door.

"Well, thanks for my going-away-slash-coming-out party," Xander said, grinning sheepishly. "Even if the last part was a little unexpected."

"Keep in touch," said Willow, giving Xander a forlorn look.

"I'll write you as soon as I know for sure where my digs will be."

"Well, good luck," said Willow, giving him a hug. Then he hugged Buffy and shook hands with Oz.

"Let's go," said Xander to Giles.

His friends watched and waved from the doorway as Xander and Giles got into the car and drove off.

When they had disappeared around the corner, Buffy froze, her hand still in mid wave. A look of confusion crossed her face. "Did that really just happen?"

*****
Part 6:

"I didn't want to say anything at your party," began Giles uncertainly, after a long and uncomfortable silence, "but I'm worried about the way you're leaving things here."

"I _have_ to go, Giles," said Xander, tiredly. "I _have_ to."

"Well, you're an adult now, so that's up to you. But I'm still worried about the way you've left your mother. It's important to keep lines of communication open in situations like these, not to destroy them."

Xander laughed harshly. "It's pretty hard to keep them open when they weren't there to start with. But I know what you mean. I'm gonna write to her regularly, even if she doesn't reply. Maybe if I get really brave, I might even call her," he added with a chuckle.

"And you will keep in touch with us."

"Yes, Giles," said Xander, fighting to keep the sarcasm out of his voice, "I promise."

Giles parked and then helped Xander carry his luggage to the bus.

"Well, good luck, Xander. I'm sorry you're leaving. You were always a valuable member of the team."

Xander looked down and shifted from foot to foot. "I'm sure you'll do fine without me."

Giles didn't speak for a moment. "I'd feel better if we had a number or an address to contact you. I know you said you'd write, but--"

"It's okay. It's the same number I stayed at last time. You need me to write it down again?"

"No, no, I still have it."

There was a boarding call.

"Well, I'd better go. It'd be a shame to have to walk to LA when I've already got a bus ticket. Thanks, Giles, for everything." Xander extended his hand.

Giles shook it firmly. "You're welcome. Goodbye."

"Bye."

Giles watched as Xander boarded the bus, and stood staring as the bus closed its doors and gradually accelerated away. Then Giles slowly turned and left the station.

When Giles returned home, Willow and Oz were taking down the streamers while Buffy swept the floor.

"Thank you all for cleaning up," he said.

"No problem," said Buffy, as she dumped the dustpan into the trash. "Now, I've got to get back to my room and finish that essay before patrol or I won't get _any_ sleep tonight, even without the nightmares. No sleep, bad for Buffy. Coming, Willow?"

"No, thanks, you go ahead. I've got to... research the Wicca a little."

"Always the conscientious student," said Buffy with a smile. "Later!"

Willow watched her leave and then turned to Oz. "Are you going to be able to do dinner tonight?"

Oz shook his head. "Rehearsal. After?"

Willow smiled and nodded. Oz gave her a quick kiss and was out the door.

"Do you need any particular books?" Giles asked Willow, heading for the bookshelf.

"No, I just need... to talk."

Giles sat on the edge of his desk, and gave her a concerned look. "What is it?"

"I'm worried about Xander."

Giles sighed and removed his glasses. "So am I." He massaged the bridge of his nose. "I talked to him in the car. He promised to keep in touch with us. And his mother."

Willow looked relieved. "That's good. I wish he didn't have to run away. It's like a chronic syndrome or something. Do you think he'll be back?"

"I don't know."

"I wish I knew where he was going. He just said, 'I'm going to LA.' LA's a kind of a big place."

"He did give me a number. It's the same place at which he stayed... a while ago. Do you know where that was?"

"No, he didn't say much then, either."

"Here it is," said Giles, replacing his glasses and digging a slip of paper out of his wallet.

Willow smiled forlornly at seeing Xander's handwriting. "I miss him already," she said, copying down the number for herself.

Giles gave her a supportive smile as he took back the paper. He glanced at it and suddenly stopped. "You know, there's something familiar about this number...."

An industrial orange glow bathed the cavernous space of the covered loading area at the bus station. Footsteps and snippets of conversation echoed among the weathered concrete supports, as family and friends waited for the final arrival of the night.

One figure stood apart from the small crowd, silent and still as the stone supports around it, clad in black darker even than the night beyond the reach of the pale orange light. The only hint of movement was a corner of the long black duster, which fluttered slightly in the breeze. The figure itself was lifeless.

A shout suddenly reverberated throughout and the dull roar of a bus engine began to dominate all other sounds. The bus slowly rolled into the station, pulled up alongside the curb, and stopped with a tired groan and shudder from the engine and a brief shriek from the breaks. The doors swung open, and there followed a general bustle and confusion of disembarking passengers, shouted greetings, and unloaded luggage.

Finally the crowd began to break up, some passengers leaving with groups, some in couples, some alone. Soon the only sounds, but for distant echoes, were the low drone of the engine and the reemergent electric hum of the lights.

The silent figure remained impassive.

Then, suddenly, one final straggling passenger appeared in the doorway, tiredly struggling to maneuver an unwieldy pair of bags.

The figure moved almost imperceptibly, but immediately lost its lifeless appearance and became... human.

The passenger stumbled out onto the pavement and scanned the ground anxiously, sighing with relief when he found his final piece of luggage unloaded from the body of the bus, lying on the curb. Heaving one bag over his shoulder, he loped over to retrieve it.

The figure stepped forward.

The passenger glanced up at the sound, and instantly smiled. And that one smile washed away all the pallid orange. "Angel," he said.

"Xander," said Angel, quickly closing the distance.

And then Xander's bags were falling to the ground and he found himself buried in the same smothering embrace he'd reluctantly left one week ago. He worked his arms under Angel's coat and held tight.

Eventually, Angel let go, brushing his lips against Xander's cheek as he pulled back to stare into Xander's eyes, smiling. "I missed you."

Xander turned away, laughing softly. "I couldn't tell." He sniffed quietly, then looked back to meet Angel's gaze, his own eyes glistening slightly, an ever-changing smile on his face. "I missed you, too, Deadboy."

The corner of Angel's mouth quirked upwards for a moment, and then he reached into his coat and drew something long and thin from his pocket, handing it to Xander.

Xander smiled even wider as he stared at it. "Wow, a rose? You really are the hopeless romantic, aren't you?" He glanced up at Angel with a guilty grin. "And I forgot bring you anything at all."

"You've already given me more than you know."

Xander looked down and began to move to collect his bags. "I'm no good at this stuff. The best I can manage are goofy Hallmark cards." He suddenly stood up, hissing sharply. "Ow. This rose has tho--" Xander broke off.

Angel immediately turned to lock onto Xander's reaction, unable to keep a nervous desperation out of his eyes.

Xander just stood for a moment, staring at the tiny prick in his finger and at the long-stemmed rose lying in his hand. Then he lifted his head up and looked directly at Angel, hesitating only slightly before solemnly nodding. He reached out with his free hand to take a gentle hold of Angel's, and then, ever so gently, leaned forward and pressed his lips against the vampire's.

They moved hardly at all, only tilting their heads and opening their jaws slightly, as the kiss went on. Their clasped hands, however, grew ever tighter, ever more sure, fingers threading together as if they might become one....

And they still held tight when Angel and Xander pulled back from each other and stood, each smiling into the other's eyes.

Eventually, reluctantly, they let go, and Xander unthreaded his hand from Angel's to reach down for his backpack.

Angel slung the duffel bag that Xander had been carrying over his shoulder. "How was your trip?"

Xander scoffed. "Seven strikes and you're out--or maybe six strikes and one error."

"What?"

"It's a long and boring story."

"I'll listen."

Xander smiled. "Not right now."

Angel lifted the last of Xander's bags with an effortlessness that made Xander smile, and they both slowly headed out of the station. "How is everyone in Sunnydale?" asked Angel, working to keep his tone casual.

"Fine."

Angel processed this answer for a few footsteps and then asked, "So were they okay with you leaving?"

"Yeah, they were okay with it. They were kind of a little more worried after I came out to them, though."

"So you did.... Did you also tell them--"

"No," said Xander, with a chuckle. "It was hard enough just telling them the first part. And I didn't know if maybe you wanted me to keep quiet about... you know. Besides, I was afraid I'd jinx it if I told anyone about you.... I'd come here and it'd all turn out to be a big mistake or something."

Angel grabbed him and kissed him quickly. "This isn't a mistake."

Xander grinned wryly. "I would have to agree."

Angel smiled back. "Let's go home."

Xander's smile widened. "Yeah. Home." Xander let Angel take his hand and followed as Angel began to lead him away. After a moment, Xander added, a bit sheepishly, "Could we stop somewhere on the way, though? I'm starving."

Angel smiled and nodded, then stopped and put down Xander's bag to draw something else from inside his coat and place it in Xander's free hand. "Here, I also got you this."

"Chocolate?" asked Xander, with delight, already tearing into the wrapper as they began to walk again. "Okay, you are officially the most romantic guy on the _planet_."

And the last sound that reverberated in the station, before they vanished into the night, was Angel's laugh.

~ end ~