Extreme Poetic Justice
by Gabe, The Red Robed Brigadier, and Holder of the Xanderisms (And proud!)

Story Notes: Tired of me yet? Anyway, this would be a sequel to “Only Happy When It Rains”, just without a really cool song and lyrics. Well, kinda. It makes major reference to it, so read that one first. That’s all I’m going to say. Disclaimer and stuff: I own nothing, once again, it’s Joss’, we bow to the creator, “we’re not worthy!” blah, blah, blah.

Dedications: To all the Brigadiers, but namely Laura and Robyn. I got the idea while talking and emailing you two, so I blame you for this! *grin* You gals rock . . .


Ten years.

It had been ten years since Angel had left Sunnydale for LA. Ten years since he dropped almost all contact with the Slayer. Ten years since he had left his heart behind.

As Angel walked to the nearest payphone from the bus depot, his resolve to see Buffy again was only strengthened. He had made a huge mistake, he had come to fix it.

Shoving a couple of coins into the payphone, Angel punched in Giles’ number from memory. When you live as long as Angel did, you didn’t forget things so easily. Every detail always seems to precious. Yes, even a phone number. Besides, it had been burned into his brain during his three years in the small town that sat upon a hellmouth.

“Umm, H-Hello?” The crisp British accent floated through the line.

“Giles, what is Buffy’s address?” Angel asked quickly, jumping to the point. He didn’t have time to waste with Giles talking about the demons he had faced in the City of Angels. He had to find the Slayer.

“A-A-Angel???” Giles stammered in surprise. He hadn’t heard that voice in nearly ten years. Wouldn’t you stammer in surprise?

“Yes Giles, it’s me. Now, what is Buffy’s address?” Angel repeated, all ready his patience was wearing thin with the aging Watcher.

Giles stammered a moment longer before sputtering out the address. “Oh, and Angel?”

But the line was dead. Angel had all ready hung up the phone, and was nearly jogging down the street in his hurry.

Giles glared at the phone before hanging it up. “Fine then, you don’t want to know she’s married? Fine,” He muttered, before walking back up stairs.


Angel knocked briskly on the white wooden door, never hesitating for a moment. He knew what he had to do, and he knew what he would say as soon as the blonde haired beauty opened the door . . .

“Buffy, I-” Angel stopped shot, and stared at the person who had opened the door in surprise. “Xander?!”

“DeadBoy??? Whoa, freak out,” Xander commented, leaning into the door frame. The 28 year old had a much more mature air than when Angel had last saw him, a new confidence he had never seen.

“W-What are you doing here?” Angel inquired, as though it was his house, and Xander was the one who had come a knocking.

“I live here,” Xander replied slowly, nodding his head at Angel as if saying, “Yes, that’s right. I’m telling the truth.”

“B-Bu-But . . .” Angel suddenly realized how he was starting to sound like Giles, and calmed down. “But, this is Buffy’s address.”

“Well, lemme think. How could you have gotten that idea?” Xander thought aloud, his eyebrows coming together in puzzlement.“Honey? Who’s at the door!?” Xander snapped his fingers, as though the little light bulb had gone off in his head. “Oh, right! That’s it! She’s my wife!”

Angel took a step back, silently gawking at Xander in disbelief. No way would that happen . . .

Buffy walked up behind Xander, turning him around to peck him on the cheek, before looking outside and seeing their visitor. “Oh God.”

“Buffy?” Angel choked out weakly, staring at his former love. The years had only enhanced her beauty, made it more graceful and subtle, yet still gasp worthy. How could he have lost her???

“Angel,” Buffy said in greeting slowly. “Look . . . Umm. Well, Angel, I moved on. Why do you seem so surprised? You told me to.”

“I . . . I-I just . . . oh God,” Angel let his head sink into his hands as he shook it from side to side furiously.

“I’ll take care of him Buff. Better put the ice cream away before we have chocolate mint floats on the coffee table,” Xander told her softly, giving her a quick kiss as she smiled.

“Okay, but no hurting him,” Buffy warned as she started back into the house. Xander walked the rest of the way past the threshold, shutting the door behind him and crossing his arms over his chest in wait. He went to the porch railing, hopping on it much like he used to jump onto the Library check out counter in high school. Still, he stayed silent, just looking at Angel, waiting for him to start.

“I-I don’t understand,” Angel finally admitted softly, not looking up at Xander. The young man shrugged, while gripping the railing his was sitting on. “You told me to take the armor and get my white horse. Apparently I just had to wait for it to be polished.”

“I just . . . and you . . . I mean . . . this isn’t fair!” Angel finally blurted out, repressing the urge to smash a nearby wooden pillar to splinters. Xander’s gaze grew cold as he hopped off the railing, and went over to Angel.

“Not fair!?” He almost laughed. “Oh no, Angel. This is what is called poetic justice. Extreme poetic justice.” He went over to the front door, jerking in open and stepping inside. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a previous engagement with my wife.” And with those words he slammed the door shut. Slammed the door shut . . .

Xander woke up in a daze, hearing his father slam the downstairs door shut like he always did. Who needed an alarm clock when you had him?

Xander glanced at the calendar, and sighed. It wasn’t ten years after graduation. It was the day of the Prom. It was all just a dream . . .

“But an extremely good dream,” Xander reminded himself as he laid back down in the bed. “And hey, I had a dream about punching out DeadBoy a week ago . . . low and behold, it happened! Hmm . . . one can hope . . .” And with that extremely comforting thought to make his day just a bit brighter, Xander got out of bed to face another day of the hellmouth.


Beam me up, Scotty!