"What are you clowns doing to my kitchen?"

It had been a few days since Angel's reveal. Velma had ended up making a scene of needing some time, giving the gang the chance to escape. Unfortunately, that meant none of their questions had been answered.

But they were back, following the path of the day of the Obliteratrix. Shaggy and Scooby were making "breakfast" in Angel's RV's kitchen. Fred and Daphne were re-organizing the van. Velma was making a show of examining their piece under a microscope. Her mother settled in the seat across from her. "So how's that piece working out for you?"

"So far? I think these symbols might actually be writing." Silence lingered between them. "I wanted to ask you something," Velma said, putting aside the piece.

"Hit me."

"Did…" She bit her lip before letting out a sigh. "How long did you know? That…"

"You were my daughter?" Angel said. Velma nodded. The DJ sighed, leaning back. "I...got a feeling the first time we met. It was one of those thoughts, you know? Saying that you met that person somewhere, you just don't know where."

"But you didn't tell me after you figured it out." Velma didn't fake the shudder that went through her. She had cried the first time around. "You knew the crap people said about me." Whenever she heard the debate about her mother either having an affair or adopting her, it had made her want to dig a hole and never come out. Angel had the power to at least lift some of that burden.

Which she had never used.

"I was protecting you. What do you think would've happened if the Freak knew I was back in town and knew exactly where something was that could've hurt me was?" Angel's voice had gone steely.

Velma opened her mouth.

Then she closed it after a moment of thought.


"What the fuck Williams."

The kids had just left to visit Darrow and she had started playing a playlist. Angel had been planning on trying to find all the notes she had on the treasure to give to the kids, but this phone call had interrupted her. "Do you need something E?" she said, pushing aside another box. She peeked inside the next one- more records.

"What the hell?! I- You-"

His sputtering reminded her of years before, back when their only worries were scraped knees and what other kids thought about them. Despite what other people thought, Ricky Owens was a smart kid. And Cassidy Williams took immense pleasure in ribbing him until he was sputtering in anger.

" Were you going to tell me?!"

"That depends."


Angel peered into the next box. A bunch of papers, book, and notebooks were inside. Her handwriting, smudged and faded by time, was on some of them. "Stuff."

Without another word, she hung up.

A/N: I hang out at .com. Come say hi!