July 31
“This is nothing like old times.”
“I agree, Charles,” Fred sighed, moving closer to him in their bed. She didn’t like sleeping alone anymore, didn’t like the isolation of it. Didn’t like knowing the family she thought she’d gained when Angel rescued her from Pylea was falling apart.
Cordelia was gone. Missing. Or, according to Charles, taken by a higher power, ascended to become a higher being. Lorne insisted he knew all along, or insisted he knew that she had it in her to become one. Fred agreed, enthusiastically, but mostly missed her friend.
Angel was acting more and more Angelus-like; and, according to Wesley who had rejoined her and Gunn in a patchwork version of Angel Investigations, they were all in danger. From their leader. Or was Wes their leader again? Fred couldn’t keep track, things were happening that were all so confusing she wasn’t sure what was going on.
Plus there was a new danger walking the LA streets.
“I mean vamps, even demons, that was all well and good, something I knew, something we could fight. This thing?”
“Connor almost died,” Fred agreed with a faint quiver in her voice.
He’d gone off before either of them could stop him. The Beast had only laughed, though from her position, Fred swore Connor got enough punches and kicks in to topple the large thing. It’d done nothing more than make him angry. They’d lost sight of Connor for moments when Fred thought he’d surely die, but once they reached the end of the street, all that was left was an unconscious, bloody Connor.
“And if the son of two vamps can get his ass kicked by Ugly and Stoney, we’re all in trouble.”
“Wes calls it the Beast.”
“Whatever it’s called,” Gunn shrugged. “It’s pretty damn near unstoppable. What do you think it meant by wanting to talk to Angelus?”
“Other than the obvious?” Fred giggled but it was a watery sound. “I don’t know.”
“It’s time we asked Angel then.” Gunn rolled to the side, stood. “Even if we have to camp outside his door until he decides to remember his mission in this life.”
“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Fred asked in a timid voice. “I mean he hasn’t exactly been himself these days, and what with this new bad….”
“Exactly why I’m asking. Because of the new bad. Because ever since Cordy left, or ascended, or disappeared into the atmosphere, or was kidnapped by aliens, things have been almost too quiet. Because there’s something going on with the man that he needs to start sharing.”
“What if he’s looking for Cordy?” But Fred sat up as well, and began dressing.
“Where would you start for something like that?” Gunn tugged a shirt over his head. “I’m tellin’ ya, she just floated up.”
“Well, she had to go someplace, right? What if Angel’s looking for her? Asking around, you know,” she offered a smiled. “Doing the whole detective thing to bring her back?”
Thinking about it for a minute, Gunn shook his head. “No, he’s too indifferent anymore. He’s not all here, and yeah, I know. Lorne reads him every damn day, but he’s missing something. I mean this isn’t the Angel I know. Well,” he frowned. “It is when he’s all obsessed, but that was a one time thing. Darla’s dead.”
“When did this all start?” Fred thought back. “It was after we returned from Pylea, though I don’t remember much about those first weeks.” She looked so sheepish, Gunn couldn’t help but lean over their bed and kiss her.
“No one can blame you for that, baby.” He smoothed a hand down her hair. “This is different. Maybe he and Connor really are just bonding. Maybe the kid’s not as bad as the attitude says. Maybe they’re out doing the whole Champion thing.”
“Maybe?”
“Or maybe this…apathy of his…” he shook his head.
“Angel’s not like us,” Fred pointed out, slipping on her shoes and searching for a brush. She remembered what Faith and Giles had said about Angel, and while she agreed with some of the things they said about Angel, she couldn’t reconcile what they said with what she knew to be true.
“He’s got a lot going on; for one he’s like centuries older than we are. He’s seen so much, experienced so much. Everything he does now is to make up for what he did then. It’s got to be hard, remembering all that. Knowing all those people you killed are just waiting for you to screw up.”
“And this anger of his?” Gunn asked, watching her brush and braid her hair. “Where’d that come from? Connor’s back, and they seem to have a decent relationship, right? So why so angry?”
Fred frowned again, and knew if Cordy was here, she’d admonish her for wrinkles. She’d also know what Angel’s problem was, and tell her not to worry. She’d take care of everything. “I don’t know. Cordy’s gone, and I know he cared for her. He’s probably angry he can’t find her; no matter what he’s tried, she’s just not there.”
“Not so sure about that one, Fred,” Gunn admitted, taking her hand as they walked out the door.
~~~~~~~~~~
They heard the couple coming. It wasn’t hard, nor were they trying to keep their approach secret. Hell, they’d heard Gunn decide to confront them, and Fred agree. Whatever they thought about vampires, they obviously didn’t realize the extent of their preternatural hearing.
Fools. How many times do we have to repeat that?
The second we find Her, we’ll leave them. The three of us, they added with a soft smile in Connor’s direction. Go someplace quiet and warm. Build our family.
The darkness of their room was punctuated only by a single beam of light from the balcony windows. That was for Connor. Not because either needed the light, but because with their son so out of it, they felt the light would be good for him.
Their son. He was a comfort they sorely needed, no, one they wanted. It was something they hadn’t been aware they craved until it was there. Until he was there.
It was a comfort they needed night after night when She eluded them. Their anger over that was immense; not that She could or did elude them, but that She seemed to want to. No, it wasn’t that, either. It was that She seemed to be running, always running. They so desperately wanted to hold Her, to take Her in their arms and show Her everything was okay. That the world wasn’t solely the demons She hunted night after night, but that it was also love.
Love and acceptance. It was them. They loved Her, needed Her. Their family needed Her.
At the knock, Angel stood, glanced at the fading line of light, and opened the door. They didn’t say anything, didn’t feel the need to. Connor mumbled something from their bed, but otherwise didn’t move. Their son was hurting, not only physically from the beating the Beast had given him, but another way, too. The magick that clung to his skin, to his aura worried them – was it residue from Quor-toth? Or was it something else?
“Angel,” Fred stammered, huddling closer to Gunn.
“What do you know about the Beast?” Gunn asked, coming straight to the point.
Cocking their head to the side, Angel chuckled. They stood back, let the couple into their room. Because the two humans seemed to need it, though why that mattered, they didn’t know. They don’t understand, and have no desire to.
All they see is what we’ve been careful to show them. They don’t get it, not really, that we’re a vampire. That we like the dark, the night, we crave the hunt. Even now, even with a soul. They don’t understand what we are. Not really.
She did. She does. And maybe, they glanced at Connor. Maybe he does, too.
Hmm, yes. Our boy. A smiled tugged at the corner of Angel’s mouth, causing Fred to frown harder. She really didn’t get them, and they knew it. Too bad. Once upon a time they might’ve cared, but now…now all that mattered was their family.
“Hic sapientia est. Qui habet intellectum, computet numerum bestiae. Numerus enim hominis est, et numerus eius est sescenti sexaginta sex.” they quoted. “This calls for wisdom. Whoever is intelligent can figure out the meaning of the number of the beast, because the number stands for the name of someone. Its number is 666.” They added, “The beast is the devil.”
“The Mark of The Beast.” Gunn nodded, stunned he hadn’t thought of it before. “It’s in Revelations, yeah. I remember that. And there shall be no more curse: but the throne of God and of the Lamb shall be in it; and his servants shall serve him: And they shall see his face; and his name shall be in their foreheads.”
“But the Beast…he doesn’t have anything on his forehead.” Fred pointed out. “Oh! Unless you don’t mean literally.”
“The Bible was specific, but not that specific,” Angel shrugged. “Much like prophecies, the writings of the Bible can be interrupted in many ways.” They looked behind the couple into the shadows. “Isn’t that right, Wes?”
“Man,” Gunn muttered. “I told you not to come up here.”
“How could he not?” they taunted. “All his righteous plans, his virtuous anger. He was right, the plebeians were wrong; it’s as simple as that. Isn’t it Wes?”
“Nothing is ever as simple as that, Angel.” Wesley said in a reasonable voice.
“Dad?”
Immediately moving to their son’s side, Angel was gentle as they helped him to sit up against the pillows. They brushed his hair back, critically studied the bruises on his face, already fading, the deep scratches still seeping blood on his chest and belly. The broken arm they’d been careful to set before laying him in their bed to rest.
The injuries they hadn’t been there to prevent, and that hurt more than they wanted. To fail their son like this.
“Take it easy, son,” they whispered. “Just relax.” Connor nodded, eyes closed. “Better?”
“No…ow,” he mumbled, but then seemed to realize there were others in the room. He nodded and said louder, “Yeah. I’m good.” He looked around the room, puzzled. Not finding whatever he was looking for, he panicked. Frantic, he demanded, “Is she okay?”
“She?” Angel demanded, looking over his shoulder at Gunn who shrugged.
“There was no she, Connor. There wasn’t anyone else there.” Gunn shook his head.
“Maybe he has a concussion?” Fred wondered and moved forward to check him.
But Connor shook his head adamantly. “Whatever a concussion is, I don’t have it. I know she was there.” He looked to his father. “Where is she?” he repeated, more frantic now. Fred was trying to peer into his eyes, and, though weakened, he was still strong enough to push her away.
Connor grabbed Angel’s arm anxiously, looked pointedly at the others. “Where is she, dad?” He emphasized, knew his father understood who he meant. He could tell by the look in the vampire’s eyes, by the way he seemed here but not. Not really. So intent on Angel and his answer, both father and son missed the narrowed eyed, searching glance Wes sent them both.
Angel’s distant, introspective look cleared, and he gave Connor a reassuring smile, nodding silently. Sighing in relief, Connor leaned back against the pillows, eyes again closed.
“Sleep, son,” they whispered, helping the boy to lay down once again. “She’s fine.” Connor slipped back into sleep at that reassurance. Angel stood, turned to those gathered in their doorway, and tried to usher them out. Wesley’s voice stopped them.
“What girl would he be talking about?” the betrayer asked, eyes on Angel not Connor. “Who saved him from the Beast?”
Stilling, Angel slid their eyes to their son, just to make sure he was still asleep. Literally pushing them out the door, they closed it firmly. “One he met his first night back.” Angel answered in a tone that was probably suspiciously neutral.
Wes narrowed his eyes, probed, wouldn’t let it go. How typical. “She must be extraordinary to save him from the Beast. Anyone who could do that would make a powerful ally.”
Angel turned to face the man, lifting an eyebrow. Restrained the compulsion to kill the bastard. “What’s wrong, Wes? No convenient prophesy to tell you who the players are? I thought you already knew all there was to know about everything?” they mocked.
“The all mighty hamburger statue not living up to its billing? That’s too bad, isn’t it?” another chuckle. “Since it means you’ll have to polish off those big bad rogue demon-hunting skills if you’re going to find the answers. And we know how well you do at that. I know!” he snapped his fingers, “How about your watcher duties? Oh, but you were a dismal failure there, too.” They lowered their voice, still scornful, leaned closer to the human. “Better make sure your insurance policies are up to date.”
The vampire reentered the room, closing the door resolutely behind them.
“That didn’t go at all like I imagined,” Gunn commented. Then to Wes, “Do you have some kind of death wish? You’re an idiot if you think he’s not going to kill you. You being here reminds Angel of what you did. And I don’t think he’s in a forgiving mood.”
“We have more important things to concern ourselves with than his personal feelings for me,” Wes said, eyeing the door. “The Beast for one; who he is, what he wants.”
“I’m thinking it,” Fred put in, “How can you tell it’s a he?”
Giving her an odd look, Wesley continued. “And this woman Connor seemed so concerned with. Are you certain there wasn’t a woman there, Gunn?”
“Of course I’m certain,” Gunn snapped, leading Fred away from the door and the madman. Wesley, not Angel. Odd reversal of roles that. “There was the Beast. There was Connor. There was me and Fred. There was Connor getting his ass kicked by the Beast. And there was…” he trailed off as they entered the lobby.
“Cordelia.”
~~~~~~~~~~
Connor watched his father reenter the room. He was alone, and Connor smiled at that; he’d heard what Angel said to the others and had to chuckle.
“Are we going to find her tonight?” he asked.
Angel shook his head, and Connor was about to protest when he said, “I’m going. You’re too weak, and I don’t want anything to happen to you.” Again Connor opened his mouth to protest, and again Angel interrupted. “Indulge me on this one, Connor. Please? I need you safe. It’s just for tonight. I’m sure by tomorrow you’ll be fine; you’re already healing.”
Mutinous for a moment, Connor nodded. “Okay. One night,” and Angel had to know what a concession that was for him. “But promise me you won’t kick the Beast’s ass without me.”
Angel smiled, and Connor relaxed. “Any ass kicking will wait until you’re out of bed, I promise.”
He stood, hefted his sword, the one he kept in his room so no one downstairs noticed when he came and went, and headed toward the balcony. The last sliver of light was just fading when he opened the thick curtain.
“You’ll be okay?” he asked again, and Connor wondered at the strange sensation that moved through him at those words. At the caring and concerned words of his father. Not just words, more; the emotion behind them, the feeling. He cared, deeply and completely.
“Fine. Be good as new in a few hours.”
“I’ll be back before daylight,” he said and disappeared.
Connor slowly nodded. “Yeah, I know you will…dad.”
He settled back down, his body desperately craving sleep. He wanted to act tough, wanted to impress his father – Angel – with his hunting prowess, his fighting ability, his healing ones. But he was just so tired. And confused. Why was Angel – dad – acting this way? Concerned for him when he lost the fight?
Maybe just a little nap. Just a short one until he felt better. Then he’d find Angel, and they’d track Buffy. Find her this time. His eyes closed, and he smiled sleepily. Yeah, they’d find her and the three of them would kick the Beast’s ass…the three of them…
She stood on the balcony, watching the scene before her. He was gone, she knew that. Knew he was looking for her, tracking her, would find her again, and, just as she had every night, she’d lose him. Couldn’t help the smile at that thought – the finding, not the losing one.
Entering the room, she scented the air. It smelled like him; dark and dangerous. Warm and comforting. Male. Strong. But Connor was on the bed, hurt from the fight the previous night, and she was worried. He was so young – just like the sister she had, or remembered, and where was that sister? She hadn’t been able to find her, sense her, and wondered at that.
For long moments she watched him sleep, all senses alert for anything, anyone. The others she’d seen with Connor, or him. A vaguely familiar scent drifted to her from below the room, but she ignored it. For now. That wasn’t her concern. Connor was.
She brushed the hair off his forehead, ran a finger down his cheek. “You’re so young,” she whispered into the darkness, voice scratchy from little use. “But I get the feeling you’re supposed to be. Lilah…she told me about you. I’m sorry I wasn’t there to stop them. I’m sorry you lost your childhood.”
Leaning over, she kissed his forehead. “I’ll protect you now,” she promised.
Connor opened his eyes, groggy and disoriented. “You’re here.”
“Of course I am. Where else would I be?” He leaned into her touch, sighed softly, eyes drifting closed again.
“Don’t leave?” he murmured, shifting until his head on her lap. Searching, yearning, for something. His lost childhood, the reassurance he craved that all was right in the world. Something every child needed, was entitled to.
“I’ll stay until he returns,” she agreed, shifting him more securely onto her lap. Her hand never stopped stroking his cheek, her touch never leaving him as he slept.
Just before daybreak, when she felt him grow closer, she left. Kissed Connor once more on the cheek, and disappeared before he could find her in the same room as the boy.
Connor abruptly woke just before Angel entered the room. Heartbroken in the moments it took him to orient himself, he realized it was all a dream…she hadn’t been there. Hadn’t offered him safety and comfort, and something else. He didn’t know what that other was, wasn’t sure he had the words for it, but knew she offered it to him. And asked for nothing in return.
Angel swiftly and silently landed on the balcony, closed the doors, and drew the curtains. Connor looked at him, drew in a breath, and knew…it hadn’t been a dream. That teasing hint of scent he’d come to associate with Buffy was there, clinging to the bed, to the air. To him.
She’d been there.
“Connor?” Angel asked, a puzzled look on his face.
Unaware his eyes were full of brimming hope, his voice held a hint of ease and joy long missing, Connor nodded. “Buffy. She was here, dad.”
Angel nodded. They knew that. Scented Her the moment they’d entered the room. Wondered if maybe, for just a second, She was still there. The anguish that shattered through them at the realization She wasn’t hurt, but then they realized something else…
She’d come to comfort Connor.
She’d come to mother him.
~~~~~~~~~~
They dreamed of Her that day, surrounded by her scent in their room, on their bed, clinging to their son, as they had for weeks now. Dreamed She was there, holding them, laughing with them. Dreamed She was teaching Connor. Dreamed they were a family. And at the end of the day they envisioned with Her, She would climb into bed with them, smile and kiss them.
She would try to be quiet as they tasted Her body, but their Lover was a screamer, couldn’t keep her passionate cries locked up. Eventually their name would tumble off Her lips, needy and loving.
“Angel…”
~~~~~~~~~~
She dreamed of him that day, after she’d picked her way through the rubble of the burned out building, as she had for weeks now, since she fought her way out of the Tank. Dreamed he was there, holding her, laughing with her, though the concept of laughter was one she’d seen only in others. Dreamed she was playing with Connor, though what they played, she didn't know.
And at the end of the day she dreamed of being with him, with him and Connor, he would climb into bed with her, smile and kiss her.
His cool touch would send shivers through her, and she’d arched into him, begging for more. He’d chuckle, tell her to wait, but she was impatient. Too long without her lover made her want him all the time. When he finally entered her, when they were joined and whole together, he’d say her name as if it was the only word in the universe he cared about.
“Buffy…”
~~~~~~~~~~
August 1
He was following her again. Not her Angel, not even Connor who followed her with him. She didn’t know who this new person was, but she didn’t like him. He was clumsy and lumbering, his scent drifted to her, and she stilled.
Lilah. He smelled like Lilah. Lilah who still hunted her, Lilah who trapped her in the Tank. She looked down the building to where the man stood in the shadows, smelling of betrayal and anger, of deception and pain. No, she didn’t like him, didn’t trust him. Wished she knew why he followed her night after night.
But then he disappeared, left her alone for a now, though she was curious enough to keep him closer than seemed wise. Jumping to another building, she searched for him, the him of her dreams.
He was out there, and they both knew it. Keeping her close, watching her. Helping her. Was this what they were supposed to do? Help each other like this, fighting, saving? Or was it what they did? The dreams, the fragments of them, was this what they meant?
But for now, they tracked the same creature. The mysterious being that suddenly appeared several nights ago. It was big, tough. She’d watched as it had taken the boy. Connor. She’d checked on him afterwards, when Angel wasn’t there, to see how he was. Asleep, he looked peaceful, as he had that first night she’d seen him, not as he looked when she spotted him on the streets.
There he looked haunted, angry. Always angry, and she wished she knew why. What caused him to be so, why he carried so much destructive energy within him. The scent of magick clung to him, and she couldn’t help but wonder what had happened to him to cause that. It was the same scent she carried, had tried to destroy in her time away from Lilah and the Tank, but hadn’t been able to on the most fundamental level.
There he was again. Standing several rooftops away, with Connor. He looked tired, and she wanted, so desperately, to go over and touch him. She didn’t know why. To take him in her arms and comfort him. Hold him. She needed to do all that and more. A scream down the alley jerked her attention around, and she disappeared onto the street, leaving them staring at the spot both knew her to be.
A word followed her on the wind, and even as she jumped to street level, staking the vamp, she heard it. Sensed him growing closer. Knew she had to run. Because the warrior within wanted to fight. Oddly enough, it also wanted him. Just him. She didn’t understand it, so she kept moving. Avoided him. Wanted him.
But she was unable to avoid the word.
“Buffy.”
“Dad,” Connor whispered, tugging on their sleeve to stop them from tracking Her. “She’ll be okay.”
“What?” Angel growled, turning toward their son in disbelief. He knew how much finding Her meant to them, had helped these last months.
“Because the Beast is over there.”
With a glance in their direction, it laughed, possibly smiled, if its stone features could twist in such a way. “Angelus, this is your last chance. You need not be my enemy.”
They frowned, shot Connor a puzzled look, and laughed. “Is this an enemy of my enemy thing? Because I have to say, if that’s the case, you need to be a little more specific. My enemies are long, varied, and historic.”
“You don’t remember?” Connor demanded in an aside.
“You’d think I would, something this big and ugly.” Angel shook his head. “But really? Doesn’t ring a bell.”
“What does the ringing of a bell have to do with that?” Connor pointed with his own sword at the Beast.
“It’s a saying. I’ll explain later.”
“Join with me.” It said in that slow, gravely voice. “I know your enemies, and Wolfram & Hart have everything to fear.”
“Wolfram & Hart?” their voice was sharp. “Lilah’s slipping then. Gee, thanks,” Angel smirked. “But Lilah and I already have a deal. Besides, I’m not much with the working for demons thing. I prefer to be my own master, do my own destruction. Things tend to work out better like that.”
Connor took a step in the Beast’s direction, but Angel restrained their son. “Connor. We’re leaving.”
“But-”
“Later.” Angel nodded, and they disappeared after Her.
“Did you make a deal with Lilah?”
“No.”
“You lied?” Connor asked, incredulous, once they were back at the hotel.
“No…” Angel shrugged. “Well, technically. We’ll make a deal soon, I’m sure of it. There’s one thing Lilah can’t stand, and that’s one-upmanship.”
“So why’d you stop me, then?” Connor demanded.
“Because that thing wanted you to attack him. He knew that if you did, I’d help. And in hurting you, he had the advantage for whatever he wanted with me.”
“Always about you, isn’t it.” Connor mumbled.
“No,” Angel said softly. “It’s about Her. But I’m not risking you, either.”
“And why does he want you?” Wesley asked, coming out of Angel’s office.
“Wes, good to see you out of the closet. Still here, eh? Still pretending you know all, see all? Tell me, how’s Wolfram & Hart these days?”
“Angel.” Wes nodded, paused. Ignored the looks Fred and Gunn shot him. “Not as informative as I’d have liked. Where were you?”
Connor glared at the man, and Angel wanted to thank their son for that. For sticking with them, for not changing sides, as they knew he often thought of. Well, maybe not. Not since She…they weren’t sure what happened, but Connor and She shared something on a level they never could. Jealously speared through them, but mostly relief. Joy.
Their family was coming together.
Angel jerked their head back to the closed office doors. “Cordelia,” they said quietly. “She’s back?”
“Yesterday,” Fred chirped. “But she doesn’t remember a lot.”
Lorne walked out just then, rubbing a hand over his forehead. “I just don’t get it, oh, hey Angelcakes,” he nodded at them. “There’s a jumbled mess in there. I see fire, and, oddly enough, happiness. It’s really confusing.”
“Anything on this Beast?” Connor demanded.
“Beast?” Lorne shook his head, still trying to decipher his reading. “Give me a millennia or two to figure it all out, and I’ll let you know, munchkin.”
~~~~~~~~~~
“Lilah,” they said, walking slowly through the light, knowing the rays wouldn’t touch them.
“And again,” she sighed, looking around sharply as she entered the room. “I have to wonder how you got in.”
“Close the door,” they commanded.
Lilah did as they said, looking perturbed and worried. “Vampire detectors, my ass.”
They just smiled, eyes glowing that strange combination of brown and gold that grew more prevalent as soul and demon merged. “You really have to ask that anymore?”
“Well, here we are,” she said, moving a step forward. “All nice and cozy. Let’s talk about – hmm, gee, let me guess. Lorne. How’s he doing? Still green?”
“We told you we were gonna have a conversation, Lilah,” they said, moving behind her desk.
“Swell, more pronouns. Look, I’m having a bit of a day, so let’s say we skip the usual two-step. The Royal You threaten me; I threaten you, yawn. Jump directly to the throwing you out on your thick, meaty head. ‘Cause, you know what? You’re not getting anything out of me this time, either.”
But she was scared, and they knew it. Could smell it, and chortled over that. She shivered, but didn’t back down. “Didn’t think we would, but Gavin…was more accommodating.”
Lilah glanced behind her with a sigh at Gavin, who was bound and gagged on her couch. “Couldn’t you have at least tortured him a little bit more?”
“Really wanted to,” and knew their voice sounded more than a little perturbed. “But he wouldn’t stop talking long enough to get into it. Kinda disappointing, actually. Was hoping he had more information on…certain things.”
“I have a cure for that,” she muttered. So she still didn’t want to talk about Her. Time enough for that. They had all night. Gavin had been less than informative about Her; Lilah had, unsurprisingly been less than sharing with the project.
“Vindict on your own time,” they said standing in a fluid motion that caught her attention. “We’re on the clock here.”
“What did he tell you?”
“Nothing too important.” Angel looked at Gavin, noted the way the man whimpered. Good. “You’re trying to decipher what you took out of Lorne’s head. Hundreds of psychics probing and prodding. Well, not quite that many now, because every time they peel back a layer, their brains end up decorating the walls.”
“You should see the cleaning bill. Now that is terrifying.”
“Anything you got on what’s coming – now’d be a good time.”
“Not big on sharing.”
“Hmm, yes,” they nodded, slowly moving forward. “We know; Gavin, flunky though he is, was big with the sharing…about Her. Now’s not that time, however. Not yet,” they chuckled, “At least.”
“You got it straight from the weasel’s mouth. Whatever Lorne gleaned from reading Wonder Girl, it’s protected. Try and unlock it? Ka-blooey. Thanks for stopping by,” she added with a shot of bravado, tried to move around them. Angel’s arm shot out, closing around her throat.
“What did we tell you about secrets, Lilah? You’re trying to hide it. We can smell it on you.”
“Chanel?” she gasped, hands automatically on their wrist, trying to stop them. Save herself.
“Fear,” another laugh, they enjoyed this. Missed this. “And lies.”
“Well,” she gasped, “You – the royal you – are very imposing in this light.”
“You’re afraid of us, we know that, Lilah. But you’re also afraid of what’s coming. Maybe we can help each other, hmmm? The enemy of our enemy – and all that bullshit we keep hearing?”
“Can kiss my ass too. You wanna play hero? Wanna remember that whole,” she moved her hand to wave it away best she could with their hand slowly squeezing the life out of her. “Champion deal? Go find another sandbox.”
“Normally,” they said in a voice that hinted at enjoyment and danger, “This would be the part where we’d make a grand threat, but thanks to Gavin – and the fact that we just don’t give two fucks anymore – your time is up. You have five minutes. You tell us what you found out about the pathetically named Beast. We let you live. You tell us about Her. We let you live. Any reneging on this deal and you die. It’s really simple, especially for a lawyer.”
“Everything on the Beast is in the file marked ‘Not Ours Damnit!’” she sputtered, swallowing great gasps of air when they loosened their hold.
“And on Her? On what you did to Her? On where She is?”
“Yes, this Her, this She,” Lilah shook her head, feeling the tightening of his grip. “You know I have nothing on that.”
“Pity.” And they twisted, snapping her neck in one motion, watching the almost graceful drop of her body. They’d actually miss her – she was one of the few, possibly the only one, who offered them any enjoyment anymore.
That would, of course, all change when they found Her.
~~~~~~~~~~
“That’s everything Wolfram & Hart could decipher from what they took outta Lorne.” They said as they reentered the hotel. Connor was there and safe, and they relaxed slightly. But She was still out there, and they were afraid She’d try to fight the Beast – alone.
“They just handed these over?” Wes demanded, and they shot him a look. Smirked, knew Wesley was fucking the dead lawyer, knew he had a thing for her. Wondered if dear Fred, Wes’ unrequited love, knew. Wondered how Wes would react to Lilah’s death.
“Lilah,” they smiled, rocking back on the balls of their feet. “Was very giving when properly motivated.” They frowned, added, “About some things…”
“You trust her on this?” Gunn demanded.
“On this? Yes,” Angel nodded. “She had an interest in stopping the end of the world before it ruined Wolfram & Hart’s end of the world, so…”
“Okay,” Gunn nodded in agreement. “Then what’s the plan?”
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