“Bu-but what about Cordelia?”
“What about the bint?”
“He loves her!” Fred’s outburst was met with absolute silence as the three of them looked at her as if she’d started spouting purple spots all over her face and quoting Socrates.
A scant moment later, Giles started to laugh, Faith joined in, but it was Spike who answered. “Don’t be blinded by the cheerleader,” he warned. “She thinks she’s useful, thinks her visions are key to something, that this new demon thing brought them closer or something. But Angel only keeps her around because he feels guilty that she has them in the first place. He’s king of the broody guilt, it’s true,” and there was an almost fond smile on his face.
“But he doesn’t love her. He loves Buffy. Always has, always will. There’s no changing that. Ever. Whatever Cordelia thinks is between her and him, isn’t. Trust me on this.”
“But-” Fred began.
“But nothing,” Spike said, “Don’t say another word. If Angel hears us discussing Buffy, he’ll…well, I’m not sure what he’ll do, but it won’t be pretty.”
Looking around Fred frowned. “He’s not here.”
“Rubbish,” Giles grumbled, tossing his container into the paper bag he’d designated as trash. “My dear young lady, he’s a vampire,” and the tone was condescending, something Faith recognized as one he often used with Wesley during that year she was with Buffy. She resisted the urge to laugh once more, feeling somewhat comforted by that tone. “He has super hearing, super eyesight, super senses. He can hear through doors and floors.”
Fred’s look was priceless, but she didn’t get a chance to say anything, because Angel entered. She glanced guiltily at him, and buried her nose in a book.
“What’d the lawyer have to say?” Faith demanded.
“She’s looking into it,” they smiled. “She’ll have something in a couple of hours.”
“And then?” Spike asked.
“And then,” but it was Giles who answered. “We find your son.”
Angel nodded, but the smile – which didn’t reach their eyes – was hard and cold. “Spike,” they said, jerking his head to the side.
Obeying the silent command, Spike followed Angel out of the room and down the hall. “What?”
“Wolfram & Hart are trying to bring Her back,” he confided. “We don’t know how, but Lilah has something to do with it.”
“Back?” he repeated, confused for only a moment. “They want to bring her back-back? As in really, truly, already have?”
“Yes. But we don’t know how.”
“Is she really alive?” It was a whispered question as Spike tried to digest all his Grandsire was saying.
“We don’t know. Her scent is on Lilah, but we don’t know if that was purposely or not.”
“Are you going to kill Lilah for this?”
“Not yet. We need her for information, first,” Angel said, walking back along the hallway to the room Giles was staying in. “But afterwards…”
Spike nodded, and entered, but Angel headed for his – their – own room.
She was alive, they knew it. Why they hadn’t told Spike all of that, they didn’t know. Maybe they did…She was theirs, even in this uncertainty, even not knowing if She was truly alive, she was, they knew she was, She was theirs.
But they did know. She was alive, it was unmistakable – the feeling, the know. They knew, yes they knew. She was alive. And Lilah was responsible. Her. Lover. Friend. Wife. Mate.
“What did they do to You, Love?” they asked the darkness. Picking their way to the bed, they curled on the covers, and closed their eyes, the pictures of son and lover clutched close to their chest.
“We swear we’ll find You,” they promised as they drifted off to sleep, Lilah’s deadline looming ahead of them. But it was enough time to rest, enough time to dream.
“I love you,” She breathed, looking down at him as Her hair, the beautiful golden silk of it, fell in striking waves around Her shoulders.
Their hands moved up, tangling in Her hair to draw Her down for another kiss. “And we You,” they promised.
Smiling, She moved over him, taking him deeply into Her body with every movement. Slow and languid, they made love with a gentleness and ease that bespoke of love, tenderness, hope, and promises. Their hands touched Her, teasing Her nipples, feather light touches along Her belly and hip, hard and demanding on Her clit.
When She came, their name a breathy moan as She tightened around them, Her hair falling in gentle waves over shoulders and breasts, they knew She was real. That She was someplace, though they didn’t know where. Holding Her close, listening to Her heartbeat slow as She relaxed in their arms, spent and sated, they kissed Her shoulder, tasted the tangy salt of Her skin, the scent of their passion clinging to Her.
A baby cried in the distance, and She laughed, turning to face them. “Seems your son is awake and hungry,” She whispered, kissing him gently. They growled as She left their arms, but there was a smile on their face. They watched Her rise, naked and beautiful, and slip on a pale blue silk robe they’d had made for especially for Her. When She grinned down at them, stretching Her hand and beckoning them to Her, they, too, rose from their bed, slipped on a pair of boxers, and went into the baby’s room.
“Connor,” She sighed, lifting him against Her to sooth the boy’s cries. “You just ate a few hours ago, honey.” But She was reaching for the bottle Angel quickly prepared, the formula already mixed and waiting in the fridge…in seconds it was warmed in the microwave. “Here you go,” She said as Connor latched onto the bottle and ate. He looked up at Her, watched Her with large eyes that caught everything.
“Yes,” She laughed, sitting on the rocking chair Angel made for Her, actually made for her with their own hands. She sent them a look, heat and love, and smiled as she put Her feet on their lap when they sat on the stool before Her. Their hands rubbed Her legs, and they watched Her as She smiled at Connor, at them.
“You’re such a good boy,” She whispered, kissing his head. “Yes, you’re such a good boy, my Connor.”
“Beautiful,” they said, disappearing into their room for a sketchpad and pencil. Reappearing a moment later to Her bemused look, they smiled and leaned over to kiss Her. “Love You,” they vowed, sitting back down and sketching Mother and child, Lover and son. Her and Connor.
The lights went out.
Looking up in the suddenly dimmed room, they saw only Her and Connor…everything else was gone, crib, toys, stuffed animals, clothes, and small touches She decorated the room with. They were standing now, the sketchpad and pencil gone from their hands, a chasm separating them from Her as She held Connor tightly in Her arms.
“You have to find him, Angel,” She said looking at him with dark and unreadable eyes.
“We will,” they promised. “And then we’ll find You.”
“I’ll always be there,” She promised, kissing the top of Connor’s head and returning the drowsy boy to a crib that appeared next to her. “There, my boy,” She soothed as he fussed a moment, out of Her arms. “My little love. You’ll be okay.”
Gathering Her against them, not sure how they’d crossed the distance, Angel kissed the side of Her neck where the mark lay. This was perfect. This was happiness. Family. Son and Lover, and they wanted nothing more. But as they looked down at the crib that held their son, Connor was gone. Taken. And She was gone, too, no longer in their arms, no longer beside them.
Frantic, they spotted Her, across the room, arms empty as the blue silk robe fluttered around Her legs in a wind that seemed almost threatening. They tried to cross to Her, to hold Her once again, but couldn’t. Couldn’t move, couldn’t reach Her, couldn’t hold Her as she slowly disappeared into the mist that hid everything.
“You have to find him,” She said again, but She was gone, and they were left in the mist that had taken Her…all alone.
“Angel?”
Opening their eyes, Angel looked at Faith. “The sun’s set.”
~~~~~~~~~~
Lilah was waiting when the four of them walked down to the lobby. She eyed the group with mocking disdain, but said nothing. She wasn’t that stupid, and knew that, as close to the edge as Angel was, she’d be lucky to make it out of here alive with the answers she brought.
There was a definite drawing of lines, and Lilah wondered at that. The group walking across the lobby floor surrounded Angel as if he needed it, as if they were supporting him in this when Lilah knew damn well he could take all of them and half the county without breaking a sweat.
It was the other group she wondered at. The so-called AI team, Angel’s friends, his comrades in arms…they stood off to the side in silence. Fred, Gunn, Lorne, and Cordelia watched from the sidelines like players who never had the chance to show what they had, coach. And now, never would.
Angel ignored them, ignored the pity in Lorne’s eyes, the stoic understanding in Gunn’s, and the confusion in Fred’s. It was Cordelia’s eyes that Lilah observed; it was her eyes that caused Lilah to revise everything she’d thought up to this moment. No, it wasn’t the simpering seer who stood off to the side, quiet and watching. It was something else.
Her eyes were hard, angry, scornful. But why? Because Angel looked for his son? From all accounts Lilah received – and she received quite a few, between their sporadic surveillance on the hotel and things heard off the street – Lilah was certain Little Miss Seer was successfully ingratiating herself into Angel and Connor’s life.
Became the mother-figure, the concerned and helpful friend. There was even a rumor Angel loved her. That he wanted her, but resisted taking the chance because of the threats to Connor. Lilah wasn’t so sure about that one. Not after all she’d learned over the past months. Buffy, it was always about Buffy. And yet he’d made no move to discover his ex-lover.
Pushing that aside, and the memory of Angel telling her he knew of Wolfram & Hart’s plan to distract him from Buffy with Connor, Lilah refocused on Cordelia.
What a big lie! Squashing the need to laugh, both at Cordelia’s successful duping of the AI gang and at her own naivety, Lilah looked back at the people before her. She recognized only half of them, of course, and wondered at the other two. And then wondered why the hell she didn't have that file on her desk already!
It was so hard training new assistants, and since Angel’s visit to her last one, she’d had to use, horror of horrors, someone from the typing pool. Maybe she’d go after Gavin – that was always a fun little diversion.
“Faith, dear,” she smirked. “So good to see you, again. How’d prison life treat you?”
Faith stiffened, but said simply, “It had its perks.”
“Hmm, yes, starched clothes, lousy food, all those women waiting to make you their bitch. But I’m sure the view was wonderful.”
“Actually, it was quiet,” she shot back, though she desperately wanted to touch Spike for comfort. She couldn’t go back to prison; she wouldn’t. “No lawyers blabbering in my ear, listening to themselves talk…”
Lilah acknowledged the retort with a faint bow, but her eyes had already moved to Angel. “Not looking so good there, Angel. Pity.”
“What’d you find?”
“Always right to the chase, aren’t you.” But she appreciated that, was that way herself, so simply stretched her hand out with the thin file. “There wasn’t much,” she admitted with a sly look towards the group clearly left out of this discussion. “Apparently, you can’t open a portal there.”
Was that regret in her voice? Sadness? Pity? She was tired, that was all, Lilah assured herself. There was no emotion in her voice but the unmistakable sound of victory.
Angel looked at her, having passed the folder to the older man standing to his left. Said man looked through it, mumbling to himself as his nimble fingers flipped through the pages. His arms were crossed over his chest, and he looked at her with those implacable gold-brown eyes she’d begun noticing not too long ago.
Demon and soul merged – she’d curse herself later for being the fool.
“You have to punch through the very fabric of space,” she admitted when he said nothing, forcing her shoulders into a negligent shrug.
“And did you find a way to do that?” The words were spoken with an eerie calmness that had Lilah suppressing a shiver. Fred wasn’t so fortunate, and moved closer to Gunn, who hadn’t changed expressions since her arrival. Stoic to the last. Good for him.
For a long moment she said nothing, hated to admit she’d searched specifically for that; found the information on that damned dimension easy enough – as if someone had wanted her to – but it’d taken all her remaining time to search for a way to form an opening between here and there. That, as the sun dipped further into the horizon, and her time ticked away, she flipped through files and files to find something that said it could be done.
Was it fear for her own life? Lilah didn’t think so, she wasn’t worried about Angel killing her and it being permanent – her contract with Wolfram & Hart clearly stated she’d die only when they were through with her. But she was feeling something; sorrow, pity, compassion. It was there, but she didn’t know what it was, nor did she wish to know.
“Yes,” she finally admitted. “But it’s not easy. And it’ll damage the fabric of reality around the area the portal.”
“How?”
This was from the older-looking man next to Angel. Shifting her attention to him, she wondered if he was Wesley’s replacement. Fast work for a guy who spent a hundred years to get to this place.
“I don’t know. At the bottom is the business card of someone who does. She’ll be able to help.” With that, she looked once more at Angel, her eyes sliding to the AI people to her left. Good luck. Best wishes. I hope you find him…
All that was left unsaid as she smiled a bitter grin at him. “I wonder what’s more important to you,” she murmured. “Your son, or the lives of everyone else in this state? Tough choice, there, Angel. But I’m sure you’ll do the right thing.”
Turning on her heel, she went to leave; Angel’s cold grasp stopped her. “We’ll find him, Lilah,” he whispered, and Lilah wondered if the reason for the separation of teams was this. Was the fact that there were those Angel could trust with certain things, and those he could not. Those who realized the change in him between soul and demon and those who were, as always, clueless.
“And when we do,” his smooth, deadly voice continued. “You’ll be next. How far can you run? How fast? Where do you think you can hide that we won’t find you? Because when we find Her, Lilah, we’ll go after you.”
The shiver she’d successfully suppressed earlier worked its way down her spine now, and she looked over her shoulder. Nodding, she jerked her arm out of his grasp, unsurprised when he let go, and stalked out of the hotel.
“Giles,” Angel said, watching Lilah leave, breathing in the faint scent of Her. “Is it possible?”
“Yes,” Giles admitted, but there was hesitation in his voice. “And when the portal opens, we have fifteen seconds to find Connor before we’re too overrun with demons to notice we failed.”
“Call the woman.”
“I was afraid he’d say that,” Giles mumbled, already moving to the phone to do so.
“But…” Fred said, staring wide eyed at Angel’s back as he went to the courtyard. “But he’ll destroy everything around us! He can’t mean that!”
“Fred,” Spike said in a low voice, watching his Grandsire with an unreadable expression in his eyes. “Shut up. Until you’ve had a kid you never thought you’d have, until you lose that kid to an enemy who doesn’t understand the difference between who you were and who you are now, until your friend,” he sneered the word, “Betrays you in the worst possible manner, you won’t understand. Until you lose everything you hold dear, and have one way,” he looked at her, eyes hard now, condemning. “One way to get a piece of that life back, then you will never understand.”
“Angel’s lost everything,” Faith added, moving to her lover’s side, brushing her hand over his, but not taking it. There was comfort in that, however, and for the moment it was enough. “He’s been given a chance to get his son back. Are you going to stop him from doing that?”
No one answered as Giles phoned the sorceress.
~~~~~~~~~~
They needed to calm down before they found their son. Right now, they were too uncontrollable to be of much use, except in tearing through the inevitable demons that were supposed to come out of the dimension.
It wasn’t so much they worried about their uncontrolled state, as it was they didn’t want to endanger Connor. That was the last thing they wanted, though they were hard pressed to care right now.
‘Shhh, my love,’ She whispered on the wind, Her hand caressing their brow.
Were they really hearing Her? Her sweet voice drifting in the wind, telling them everything was going to be okay. Whether or not they were, Angel didn’t care.
“We’ll find You,” he said to the night sky, eyes drifting to the stars as they winked down at them.
‘I know you will,’ Her voice said.
“Angel?” Cordelia’s voice startled them out of their own world. They turned to look at her, wondering what it really was about her that was so off. There was the demon within, yes, the demon she agreed to become to continue to help them. But it was more than that, more than the demon, or…or was it before the demon?
“What?” they asked, uninterested as they looked back at the stars. Giles voice floated to them as he spoke with the sorceress.
“We’ll find him,” she assured him, hand on his arm. Looking up at him with soft eyes, making her body language as appealing as she could, Cordelia lowered her voice. She’d dressed carefully, made sure to use certain scents, certain lotions. Vanilla, of course, that bitch’s scent. And simple clothes that said she was ready to fight, not walk in a fashion show, though why anyone would choose the former over the latter, she didn’t know.
“I’m not sure Lilah’s telling the truth, but we’ll find Connor. I promise we will. He’s a tough kid,” she smiled, “Takes after his father.”
Another smile, soft, reassuring, putting all her skills to work as she tried to regain ground she lost with Connor’s kidnapping. How inconvenient that was, but she could work with it; comforting him now, making sure he knew she was there for him during this terrible and trying time.
“I’m sure Giles will find someone,” she whispered, leaning up to kiss his cheek. “I’m sure we’ll have Connor back with us by morning.”
Angel nodded, looking down at her with eyes she couldn’t read. His hand drifted to her hair, took a lock between her fingers, rubbed it gently. A look moved through those eyes, more golden now than brown, and Cordelia desperately wanted to latch onto it and tug. She didn’t. Couldn’t. Not yet. A child born of rape wasn’t a goddess. Only a child born of need and want could hope to be reborn to its former glory.
“Yeah,” he murmured, and stepped away from her.
Bastard.
Silently cursing him, Cordelia was forced to reevaluate her position. Where was she going wrong? What wasn’t she doing? How was Angel not under her control? She should be reborn by now, should be ruling this planet once more. Hadn’t her loyal acolyte seen to that? Hadn’t Vorch seen that this body could and would be glorious once more?
So what in all the hells had happened?
Why was this not working? Fuming, though her face betrayed none of that, Cordelia went back into the lobby, sadly shaking her head as if she and Angel had just had the most heart-to-heart conversation anyone could ever imagine.
“How is he?” Fred asked softly.
“Lost,” Cordelia looked over her shoulder at the French Doors Angel disappeared through. “He’s lost.”
~~~~~~~~~~
“Maybe we should’ve killed her,” Angel murmured into the night. “Back then, maybe we should’ve killed her.” Shaking their head, they added, “No, She wouldn’t have liked that, would She?”
But he only answered himself. There was no separation between soul and demon, not any longer. They were one, finally, inexorably, one. No longer did they think in single terms, but together.
We, maybe, it was – as Spike said – all in the pronouns. But did it matter? No, no it didn’t, because they both loved Her, would do anything for Her: kill, die, even the hardest of all…live.
“Soon, Love,” they promised, walking back to the lobby to see Giles’ progress. “We swear we’ll get Our son back. And we’ll find You, too, Darling. Soon.”
“…but I only came to help,” Wesley was saying, and Angel wondered how they’d missed his entrance. He had to come in when Cordelia spoke with them, so how did they miss that?
With a growl, they attacked. Leaped across the lobby floor in one step and grabbed Wesley by the throat. Slammed him against the counter, fangs gleaming, bloodlust on them, and the need, the overwhelming urge to kill the bastard who’d kidnapped their son; the simple and violent to take from that which had taken from them.
“You shouldn’t have come here, Wes,” they murmured, smooth and silky. “You know better than that, buddy. You shouldn’t have come within a thousand miles of us.”
Wesley sputtered, tried to claw at Angel’s hand, but it was no use. Angel was out for blood, for death. Wesley’s. If they couldn’t kill Daniel Holtz, they were going to kill Wesley, the instigator. The false friend. The betrayer.
They didn’t feel Giles’ hands on them, or Faith’s. They didn’t know Spike and Gunn stood off to the side, watching. Not helping save Wesley’s life. Didn’t hear Gunn quietly urge them on, or Spike looking at him in a new light that said maybe the human had potential. Didn’t notice Fred join in the vain attempt to save Wesley’s life, or Cordelia, after a beat. Or Lorne, as he walked to Gunn’s side, eyeing the situation without a word from so loquacious a being.
“Angel,” Giles said as he desperately tried to pry the vampire’s hand off Wesley’s throat. Tried to save the man from certain death. Rupert wasn’t sure why he did so, but he needed to…for Angel’s sake – for Buffy’s – if nothing else.
“Angel, think man! Is this what Buffy would want for you? Your loss is horrific, the betrayal the worse you can possibly experience. But that’s not who you are anymore!” None of it did any good. Desperate to save Angel from another murder, something Buffy would no doubt have done without thought, Giles continued.
“Buffy wouldn’t like this! Don’t give them what they expect…”
Angel blinked, slowly, just as the light was fading from Wesley’s eyes, Angel drew back. Unwrapped their hand from Wesley’s throat and stepped away from the walking dead man. They didn’t do it because it was the humane thing to do as Giles seemed to believe, no. They did it because of the one thing Giles said that made sense…don’t do what they expect.
“Keep him the hell away from here,” Angel snarled, “You’re not welcomed here.”
Fred sputtered at that. “But isn’t Wes our boss?” she asked in a timid voice, cowering away from Angel.
Turning to her, he smirked, cold, calculating, and looked back at Wes who now stood. Watched their former friend with deadly promise. “Wes was what I let him be. Nothing more. And unless you want him a corpse,” he glanced around the lobby, noted the position of Faith now, as she watched him warily, of Gunn and Spike and Lorne doing nothing to save Wesley’s life. “Keep him away from me. Or I promise you, that’s what he will be before the day’s out.”
“Angel...” Angel held up a hand to silence whatever Giles was about to say. Instead, the former watcher laid a sympathetic hand on the vampire’s shoulder.
“No, you were right Giles.” Angel admitted, glanced at him and nodded. He could see understanding in Giles’ eyes, was grateful even if he’d prevented Wesley’s death. Maybe, because of that. Not for the life he’d saved, of the guilt Giles seemed to think he’d feel, but because that wasn’t what She’d want.
And it was what they’d – another look around the lobby – expect.
Giles said nothing; there was nothing to say, so he didn’t bother. Instead, he let his silent empathy speak where no words could.
Expect. Her. Don’t give them what they expect…
No, he wouldn’t give them what they expected. They expect this…expected him to be pure demon, expected him to show them what they knew they’d already see. And those same ‘friends’ didn’t care about their reasons or justification. He moved another step away, watched Wesley slip away from them as quietly and unobtrusively as he could.
In giving into those ‘friend’s’ expectations, they cared that they lost advantage. Lost ground…only in keeping their plans secret, Connor, Her, they won. By giving in, by letting the staring and blindly watchful eyes of his ‘team’ see what they were, what they could and would do, they lost.
Not saying a word, Angel snarled once more and stalked away. Back to the privacy of their room, where the scent of Her still clung to the air. Where their precious boy’s things lay, where they could watch the two of them smile in joy and love. Where they could find Her.
Find their family.
“I suggest you leave, Wesley,” Giles said, voice cold, hard, sharp. “You’re not wanted here. You’re not needed. And,” he glanced up the stairs. “As has been aptly shown, you’re a dead man.”
Still trying to regain his breath, Wesley glared at Giles, sharp eyes going to Faith then Spike. Glancing over Gunn who looked back impassively, over to Fred who tried not to look at him at all, Lorne who scowled, looking more threatening than Wes had ever seen the demon. To Cordelia.
She looked smug, though he couldn’t have said why he thought that. She hadn’t helped Angel, had, in fact, tried to keep the crazy vampire off him. But then she sent him a sympathetic smile, mouthed, ‘I’m sorry’, and he forgot what he’d been thinking.
Without a word, he left. Alone, back to his apartment. And his guilt. Righteous guilt.
~~~~~~~~~~
March 15
It didn’t work.
Punching through, opening a portal, bribes, research, Angel’s grief and love mixed with the magick. It hadn’t worked. The blood stained the floor, and the phantom stench of it could be smelled long after disinfectant bleached the pentagram.
But then Cordelia hadn’t wanted it to work.
She gleefully watched Faith and Spike pack up, despondent as they trudged to the piece of shit metal can Spike called a car. She watched Giles follow them, his books and books useless and heavy as sorrow weighed them down. Rain started to fall, and Cordelia wanted to laugh.
Of course, she didn’t. No, that’d have been the height of inconsideration, and she was nothing if not considerate. To Angel. For Angel. For the comfort she planned on giving Angel.
And the peace of a fulfilled birth he promised her.
He’d cried on her shoulder, finally the damn man, he’d shown emotion when the multitude of spells hadn’t worked. Granted, Faith was out killing something – typical slayer – and Spike was with Giles, Lorne, and Fred trying to work yet more miracles. But she wasn’t going to allow that, either.
Angel had cried on her shoulder, sobbing his grief for his child and she’d rejoiced. All but danced with glee, actually. And had restrained herself very admirably if she did say so herself. Comforted him instead, offering sympathy and hope, love and compassion. All of which she’d known were false.
“Angel,” he walked down the stairs, eyes dead and cold as they stared hard ahead. He nodded to her, but nothing more. Cordelia shrugged – she could allow this. Goodbyes, after all, were important in this society. And as she planned on this being the last time Angel saw them alive again…
“Are you sure you won’t change your mind?” Giles ask for the forty-fourth time.
“We’re sure,” Angel nodded, hefted the suitcase Giles had typically over packed into Spike’s trunk, and offered a hand. “Thanks.”
“I…” I’m sorry. I wish I could’ve done more. I know how much Connor meant to you. “You’re welcome. And Angel,” Giles offered before he lost all courage on the matter. “If ever you need anything, please…just ask.”
Faith hugged him. “Don’t be a stranger,” she whispered, kissed his cheek, and climbed into the car before anyone could see her tears.
“You sure?” Spike asked, watched Angel carefully, not touching, not offering that which his Grandsire already knew.
“Yes. And I promise, William,” the said, smiled a sly and fierce movement of their lips. “I’ll call you.”
“You better,” Spike nodded, winked at Angel. “And we’ll celebrate by kicking ass and burning the building. Been a while since we had ourselves a massacre.”
“Been a while,” they agreed and watched his family, those he considered Her extended family and therefore his, drive away.
“Soon.”
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