She parked the Jeep in front of the Hyperion and climbed out reluctantly. Gingerly she opened one of its massive front doors. She’d never been to Angel’s home before. In fact, the last time she’d been to LA and seen him she’d been in his old office building, and that was only for about ten minutes.
The lobby was immense. And beautiful. And slightly intimidating, except for the familiar faces of Wesley and Cordelia behind the front desk, arguing over something.
She cleared her throat and they both looked up. “Buffy!” Cordelia cried, somewhat surprised. “Wow…you’re here already. Huh. Won’t Angel be…happy?” It was more of a question than a statement, and the brunette shot a worried glance at her coworker.
Buffy stepped forward and dropped her bag on the ground at her feet. “Yeah…well…there wasn’t too much to say. He thinks I’m insane and he’s going to take Dawn from me.”
Cordy’s mouth dropped open and Wesley moved around the desk to stand in front of the Slayer. “Oh, I’m so terribly sorry, Buffy. Is there anything I can do to help?”
She gave him a small smile and shook her head. “I just want to go to sleep…do you think I can find a bed somewhere in this palace?”
Cordelia snorted. “Beyond the second floor? It’s not so much the palace as it is the giant rat trap. But I’m sure…well, ah…it shouldn’t be…I mean…” she stammered.
Buffy looked at her curiously.
“I’ll need to check with Angel before I just tell you yes,” the seer told her and rushed up the stairs, disappearing around a corner.
Buffy and Wesley exchanged glances. “She’s had an awful lot of coffee,” he explained jokingly, and offered her a drink. The sound of footsteps came from behind them, as well as someone humming. “Ah…and this is Lorne,” he exclaimed as a large, green demon came walking down the stairs into the hotel lobby.
Lorne sashayed up to the front desk, dressed, as usual, in an outrageous suit. Tonight’s was purple satin with an orange silk shirt. “My pleasure, madam,” he said, bowing low and kissing her hand.
Wesley cleared his throat. “Yes. Buffy Summers, Lorne, or The Host, as he is sometimes called. Lorne is staying here, temporarily, until his night club is repaired. He frequently helps us on cases.”
“Nice to meet you,” Buffy said, dubiously eyeing the new-comer.
“Buffy…Buffy…ah! Angel’s friend from the lower regions! Of California, I mean,” he explained off her expression. “I’ve heard about you, m’dear,” he admitted graciously.
“That’s…great.”
“Sure I can’t get you that drink?” Wesley broke in, trying to be helpful.
“No, thanks…really, I just want to get some sleep and then go back to Sunnydale,” she said, turning back to him.
“You’re leaving so soon then?”
She nodded. “No point in sticking around…especially if I’ve got some baddies on my trail.”
“Yes, Angel explained your situation to us. You were attacked earlier by strange demons and vampires, correct? I must say, you’ve never been one to run before, that I recall, and now you have these demons after you, looking for you specifically…” Wesley said, removing his glasses and beginning to clean them.
The act caused her chest to tighten, the familiarity of it…God, how she missed Giles, even more right now than she had since his departure a month earlier.
Wesley was no dummy. He noticed her expression and her eyes, fixated on his glasses, and sat them on the desk. “I understand things have been a bit strained lately,” he said, concern in his voice.
Buffy swallowed and nodded, tears welling in her eyes, afraid to speak.
“You will, of course, call me if I can do anything for you…anything at all.”
She nodded again. Lorne watched her carefully, studying her to the point that it was making her uncomfortable.
Wesley, too, watched her thoughtfully then moved to sit next to her on the couch. “Buffy,” he said softly, “I would never try to replace Mr. Giles…I know what you two shared…but remember that I am only two hours away…and I’m better than nothing.” He gave her a soft smile.
A tear escaped and she wiped it hastily away before rewarding him with a smile. “Thank you,” she told him, and she meant it.
Their moment was interrupted by the sound of footsteps as Cordelia, Gunn and Angel came down the stairs.
“Hey,” Angel said to her, worry in his eyes as he saw that she’d been crying.
“Hey.”
“Are you okay? How did your father take it?” he asked, kneeling beside her.
She let out a bitter laugh. “Oh, it went just swell. He didn’t believe a word I told him, despite what he saw tonight, and has his lawyer drawing up the paperwork to take Dawn out of my custody and into his.”
“He didn’t believe you?” Cordelia cried. “Why not? I mean, jeez…even I believed you the first time you got me involved in something freaky, and I didn’t even like you! You’re his daughter!”
They ignored her. “What can I do?” Angel asked her softly.
“I just want to sleep, if that’s okay…and since I know this guy who owns a hotel…”
He gave her a grin. “No problem. I’ll have the maid fix up a room for you…but first I need to talk to you about something.”
She looked at him curiously, rising to her feet. “Sure, what’s up?”
He met Gunn’s eyes, dread filling them. “Buffy…some things have happened lately…to me, to all of us…”
“Like what?”
“Like…that,” he said, turning to where Fred was descending the stairs, a bundle of something wrapped in her arms. When she got close enough Buffy realized it was a baby.
“That’s a girl and a baby,” she said dumbly.
“Yes, it is,” Angel admitted.
“You’re letting them stay here?”
Angel glanced at Cordelia. “Well, uh, yes. Fred lives here, so does the baby…this is Connor.”
Fred walked to him, giving him her uncertain smile, and put Connor is his arms.
“That—that’s nice,” Buffy told him, uncertainly. “He’s cute,” she said to Fred.
“Thanks…we think so, too.”
“How old is he?” the Slayer asked the timid girl.
Fred’s eyes met Angels. “Uh, just over a month now.”
Buffy gave her a small smile. “You look great,” she assured her.
Fred’s eyes popped open. “Oh…thanks, but…you see, Connor’s not mine, I mean, I could never, I’ve never…that is. Wow. How sweet of you to think I’m his mother!” she gushed.
“Oh, I’m sorry…how stupid of me,” Buffy apologized, then turned confused eyes to Angel. “You’re…babysitting?” she asked, knowing that wasn’t right, but unsure what was going on. “Do his parents live here too?”
“Sure do,” Cordelia muttered under her breath.
Buffy turned to her. “The baby is yours?” she asked incredously.
Cordelia sighed and put her hands on her hips. “Of course not!” she said, shooting a look at Angel.
Buffy’s eyes met his. “Then…what?”
The entire gang backed up, except for Fred, who was clueless as to the angst that was about to occur.
Angel cleared his throat. “Buffy, this is Connor. My son.”
***
Elsewhere in Los Angeles, deep within the bowels of the city, a meeting was taking place.
“She is not alone, like most other Slayers, Master,” the vampire said.
The demon sat in his chair, thoughtfully stroking his beard. The night was rainy, and the outcome of the earlier fight was disappointing at best. He’d hired and sent out maybe a dozen vampires, and two of his best cohorts…and still. The Slayer had not been captured.
This was going to be interesting, to say the least. And tonight’s adventure was unacceptable.
“This will not do, gentlemen,” the demon hissed from his giant throne. “The Slayer is essential. We need her to complete the transaction.”
“Yes, Master,” the vampires droned.
“What are we going to do about this?” he asked them, pacing, his long brown robe hiding his face but his tone making everyone very nervous.
“Kill her!” one called.
The demon smiled sickly at him. “What is your name, boy?”
“Roy, Master.”
“Well, Roy. That was incorrect. And do you know why that was incorrect?”
The vampire swallowed nervously. “No, Master…why?”
“Because we can’t kill her!” the demon screeched, rising up and stomping across the room. “If we kill her it’s useless! She must come alive and she must come NOW!”
“I’m sorry, sir, I’m sorry!” Roy cried out.
The demon turned suddenly, his tone calm. “Guards…Mr. Roy answered a question incorrectly. What’s the penalty for that?”
One of the guards stepped forward and staked Roy through the back, completely missing the heart. Roy cried out in pain, collapsing onto the ground.
“Never the kill, only the pain,” the demon sing-songed as the door to the chamber opened and several more of his robe-clad friends entered.
“Ah! Jimnub! Sulfeg, what have you learned about the Slayer?” he cried.
“She is at a local hotel, Entwar. With the people that helped her earlier. She appears to be staying there, at least for the evening,” Jimnub told him.
“Excellent. Roy! Get off the floor and get your troops together. It’s time for Phase Two.”
Chapter 5: Possible Impossibilities
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