February 25
“It’s on.”
“It’s on?” Sahjhan asked as he watched Lilah in the bar.
“Our plan?” she didn’t look at him. “The Angel plan? On. I outsourced the labor, buried the cost. We shouldn’t have any problems with the firm. Good seeing you.”
Get out, she thought. Get lost. I don’t have time for this, and the only reason I’m even here, I even ever talked to you, was to distract Angel. He’s not going to die, I’d bet my life and position at Wolfram & Hart on that. He’s not going to do whatever it is you want him to. He’s not like that, God, don’t I know that.
But Buffy…a twinge went through Lilah at the thought of the beautiful blonde slayer that held the key to not only Angel’s heart and subsequently Angelus’ release, but to other things, Lilah was sure of it. What those things were, she couldn’t begin to say. But there was something there, some kind of power that told her – warned her – of that.
Finishing her drink and standing, she went to leave. She had nothing more to say to the non-corporeal demon and didn’t care.
“Okay,” Sahjhan nodded. “But let’s skip the small talk, and get right down to business. I just time skipped a hundred and thirty-three years for this meeting. Would a little conversation kill you?”
“Right.” Lilah smiled, and it wasn’t pleasant. “Because we’re on a date? The only reason I met you here was so we could talk freely.”
“So, let’s talk freely,” the demon nodded. “Would it impress you if I told you I invented daylight savings time?”
“William Willett did – get over yourself. Why do you want Angel dead? That’s the only thing I couldn’t find in the archives.”
And she had looked. Oh, she’d looked, spending hours – days – in the massive archives that detailed so much she’d actually grown bored with the Angel-history, trying to discover everything she could about Angel/Angelus’ past. She’d taken boxes of files with her to Buffy’s chamber, sometimes reading aloud to the slayer the horrible things her ex had done. But nothing had made an impact on her, and Lilah wondered if maybe she already knew it all, anyway.
She probably couldn’t hear her, what with the spell to bring her stupid soul back not working. But that was a rant for another time.
“Boy. All work and no play.” Turning away from her, he added, “I have my reasons.”
“Hmm.”
“How about you? Died in the wool company gal? Why risk it all to kill Angel?”
Not kill, she thought as she smiled at him again. “We have our history.”
“Well – same here.”
Narrowing her eyes, Lilah waited but there was nothing more from the demon. He was lying, but she couldn’t figure out why. “Are you afraid of him?”
“Nah!”
But he was, and she could tell. “Then what are you afraid of? You may be insubstantial but – I can still smell the fear.” Of Angel? Angelus? Something else? Something the vampire had done to him?
“Wow. Where does the time go?” he stood, preparing to leave once more. “So, when does this plan go into effect?”
Lilah watched him a moment, thinking of Buffy. “It’s already started.”
~~~~~~~~~~
March 1
Her scent surrounded them, warm, inviting, loving. Her arms wrapped around them, holding them close. She smiled at them, and they were lost. Willingly lost in Her.
“I’ll never leave you,” She promised, kissing them softly.
Breathing in Her scent, Her love, they deepened the kiss. Tangled their fingers in Her hair, drew Her even closer. Lifting Her against them, Her legs wrapped around their waist, unwilling to let them go. They laid Her on the bed, spreading Her hair, so very long, longer than they remembered, on the dark comforter. It was a shocking contrast, pale sunlight against the blackest night.
“But You did,” they sighed, lips trailing down Her throat, suckling briefly on Her pulse. On the scar that marked Her as his…theirs. Nimble fingers worked the buttons of Her shirt, spread it open. Cupped Her breasts, teasing the already hard nipples.
“No, my love,” She whispered, drawing their head to Her breast, urging their mouth on Her. “I never have.”
They looked up then, eyes a strange mixture of brown and gold, something that didn’t go away anymore, something they were unaware of that frightened the SI crew. They often thought he wasn’t Angel but Angelus now, often thought that he’d lost his soul, that he’d reverted. Little things they said, whispered comments.
“I love you,” She vowed.
Smiling, they repeated the vow. “We love you.”
Pure joy colored Her face, the smile was bright, even as She sucked in a hiss of breath at the feel of their cool tongue on Her breast, tracing along the bra.
Taking their time, careful to taste and touch every inch of Her, they worshiped Her. Feather light kisses, soft caresses. Everything they’d never had the chance to do to Her before, they did now. The sensitive spot where Her thigh ended and hip began, Her flat belly, the insides of Her legs.
Slipping their fingers into Her, smiling in satisfaction at Her hiss of pleasure, they pumped them slowly, coiling the tension within Her higher. Their mouth suckled Her breast, teeth scraping aching nipples, lightly at first. Then harder when She begged, when Her hands held their head there, when She needed more. They added a third finger, smiling as Her breath caught on their name.
“More,” She whispered, head against the pillow, body straining, a fine sheen of moisture coating Her magnificent body. “Baby, I need more…”
“I know,” they smiled, nipping at Her lips, teasing Her nipples.
Withdrawing their fingers, they kissed their way back down Her body, ignoring Her pleas, Her frustration. They were nowhere near finished with Her. Tasting Her, slick and hot, ready for them in a way no one else ever had been. She responded to them in ways that they’d never thought possible, never imagined. It was incredible.
Honey, hot and spicy, She was delicious. Beautiful. Watching Her over Her body, as She took Her own aching breasts into Her hands, scraping long nails across them, moaning in pure unadulterated pleasure, they drew Her legs up, holding Her spread for them as they continued to taste Her.
She cried out, a breathy pant of need as Her body strained for the peak, needed to fall over. Shaking, Her hips moved against their mouth, desperate, and they were all too happy to provide Her with that release.
Biting down on Her, sending Her over the edge shouting their name, they watched Her. Sunlight. She was sunlight when She came, shaking with the force of the orgasm.
“We need you,” they said an instant before thrusting into Her.
Her eyes shot open, hands still on Her breasts, hard nipples peaking through Her fingers. Fully seated within Her welcoming body, he moved, they moved. Holding onto each other, wrapped so tightly around the other that their pale skin melded, merged, as they loved one another.
“Buffy,” they said, climaxing within the only woman either soul or demon had ever loved, holding Her tight to them.
“I love you,” She said again, drowsy now as She drifted down from Her second high. “Always.”
“Don’t leave me,” it was a whispered plea as they cuddled Her to them, curled around Her as if afraid to let Her go. She’d disappear then, and they couldn’t handle that.
“Don’t leave us.”
“Never, my darling,” She promised. “But you haven’t got me yet. I’m still not here.”
Jerking awake, breathing harsh and panting, Angel looked over, but his bed was empty. Connor stirred, and he quickly padded into the room, picking his sleepy son and carrying him to the windows to greet the new day. Holding close the one person who was here, who did care.
‘She was here,’ Angel said.
‘I know,’ the demon agreed. ‘I felt Her, too. She’s out there.’
“We swear, Beloved, we will find you.”
~~~~~~~~~~
March 7
‘Get a grip already, what has you in such an uproar?’
‘She’s so beautiful, kind and sweet and gentle.’ Angel answered in a voice that said he was mooning, yes, mooning, over her. But, much to Angelus’ chagrin, he wasn’t looking at Buffy’s picture.
No, he was watching Cordelia in the courtyard. Standing with their son in their arms, he was sappily smiling at the demon seer as she and Fred talked in the courtyard below their balcony.
‘I’m going to be sick,’ Angelus complained. ‘What in all the fires of hell are you talking about? What’s she done to you? Put you under a spell? Made you lose your mind? Made you go stupid on us?’
‘No,’ Angel insisted, bouncing Connor on his knee as the boy whimpered. ‘She doesn’t have to do anything to me. I just know. I love her.’
Angelus screamed. It was loud, long, undignified, and nearly girly, but he was so horrified that he couldn’t help it. Angel was in love with the seer? And now he growled. ‘Traitor! How dare you! Get me out of this body!’ Dramatics were more Spike’s thing, but desperate times and all…
‘How could you betray Her like that? How could you even think of loving another? How?’
‘Another?’ Angel questioned, pulling some of his attention away from Cordelia. And missed her rather smug and slightly evil smile as her eyes, a glowing black, traveled up the hotel’s outer wall to his room. ‘What do you mean, another?’
There was silence for long, long minutes as Angelus digested what his other half had just asked. ‘Something’s wrong here,’ he said. Gone were the dramatics, the pain, the revulsion, and in their place, was confusion and a deep determination to get to the bottom of this horror.
‘You don’t just change like this overnight. You don’t just forget Her. You don’t just suddenly fall in love with that seer whore.’
‘Don’t,’ Angel warned with a growl, ‘Talk about her like that. I’m in love with Cordelia, and-’
‘Please,’ Angelus quickly cut him off. ‘Don’t make me sick again. It’s not a pleasant feeling, and I can’t hurl comfortably in here.’
‘Look-’
Again, he was cut off. ‘Don’t start with me, soulboy. It’s been a while since we’ve fought, and while always entertaining, I’m not in the mood. Now, let’s figure this out.’ Raising a hand to his head, Angelus rubbed the headache brewing there. While chances were slim he could actually get a headache, it sure as hell felt like one.
‘Okay, this started recently, I’m sure of it. Reasonably sure. Like, what, a couple days ago? When,’ and he truly was going to be sick, ‘Did you first think yourself in love with Whor…ah, Cordleia?’
‘I don’t think I am,’ Angel hissed back. ‘I know I am.’
‘Just answer the damn question!’ Angelus roared, all patience gone.
There was silence for a while, only broken by Connor’s occasional gurgle and the faint murmur of voices from the yard below. ‘I’ve always been in love with her,’ Angel finally said slowly, but this time, he wasn’t so sure.
Repressing the urge to scream like a diva, or really hurl like he’d threatened, Angelus corrected, ‘No. No you haven’t. Trust me on this one, boyo, you haven’t. This is a recent development, and I don’t know where I’ve been that I’ve missed it.’
‘Yes,’ Angel insisted, but he’d withdrawn to their rooms, now, and closed the balcony doors. ‘She’s sunlight and golden, warmth and love and…’
‘No,’ Angelus corrected again, but this time more gently as he wondered just what the hell had happened to him…to them. Had losing Her really destroyed him so badly that he was transferring their emotions onto another? Or was it something else they were missing? And what had happened that he’d missed it?
‘Yes,’ Angel contradicted, but he sounded confused and lost as he looked at Connor. ‘She’s…she’s been great with Connor,’ he tried, but trailed off and his tiny son, no more than four months old, stuck his tongue out. Whether in response to Angel’s words or something else, Angel couldn’t say. ‘And…she smells fresh and pure, like a vanilla field…’ again, he trailed off, frowning, lost, confused. ‘No,’ he muttered. ‘She’s rotten and evil, and she’s…’
‘You know,’ Angelus said when Angel said nothing more. ‘I don’t remember the last week. What did you do?’
‘Do?’ Angel frowned at Connor as he set the boy on the floor to play on the blanket set there for just such a purpose. Connor was growing so fast, or maybe this was what it was like with all babies, and they had no experience with that. He was already moving along the floor, not necessarily in a crawl, but in a nearly close enough intimation of it to make a father proud.
‘I…I…’ Angel frowned. ‘There was…blood. Cordelia and I danced, we were at the ballet, and possession.’ Yes, he clearly remembered that and recalled mocking it, too, afterwards. But then… ‘Groo? Wasn’t Groo here? Cordelia left with him, and…’ but she was clearly in the gardens, so what…? ‘And…and there was Holtz and Lilah, and I’m almost certain an…earthquake?’ Angel shook his head, staring blindly at Connor on the floor. ‘I don’t remember. Not clearly, anyway.’
‘What kind of funky mojo did she slap you with?’ Angelus demanded after a moment of silence while trying to digest all Angel had – and hadn’t – admitted to. ‘What did she do to us that caused me to black out and you to go all googly eyed on her?’
‘I’m not,’ Angel’s voice was quite yet… ‘Don’t be ridiculous. She wouldn’t do that to me.’ He sounded strong, sure, positive in that statement. ‘Cordelia would never do anything like that.’
‘Oh? How do you know? You didn’t think you would ever have to pay her to be your so-called friend either, now did you?’ Angelus snorted. ‘And yet that’s exactly what you did after Darla left.’
‘Darla…’ Angel frowned, looking at Connor as the boy laughed at the floor. All those toys, and the kid laughed at more walls and floors than Angel cared to admit – what did he see the rest of them didn’t? ‘Darla was the one to leave this time….’ Shaking his head, he muttered without thinking of his next words, ‘I doubt Cordelia would know how to be a friend.’
He doubled over in pain after uttering those words, and he’d said them as if it were a betrayal to give voice to the feeling. As if by uttering them, he was tearing something deep within him that was anchored in Cordelia’s love and vitality. The tone, however, pissed Angelus off even more. There was definitely something wrong here.
Well, there was the fact that Angel was physically sick, too, and that hadn’t happened in a while. Since the Faith thing with the poison and all. So why was he having a reaction now?
‘What’s wrong?’ but his tone wasn’t harsh, it was worried.
‘Cordelia is a friend,’ Angel gasped, straightening as the pain eased. ‘She loves me and I love her.’
‘Wrong!’ he snarled. ‘Truth is, we don’t know what the fuck she is, much less what she’s capable of. And there is a greedy core to her – you know that as well as I do, idiot, and I know you do – and that’s almost as big as that yawning pit between her...’
‘Don’t say it!’ Angel warned, the biting pain back as it shot fire through him, a thousand needles in his skull, holy water on his eyes.
‘I’m telling you,’ Angelus stated again, leaving Cordelia’s whoreness alone. Infighting, so to speak, wasn’t going to help this new problem.
Granted, so far as they knew, she hadn’t been with more than two men…three? Well, they’d never bothered to keep track, so it mattered little. But that wasn’t the point. She went panting after everyone – him, Xander – the nightmare that child was – him, Doyle, Wesley, Gunn, several others, including a demon or two, and that one that had gotten her pregnant. He’d told Angel to let her die, but the soul was still on that save everyone kick because She would have done the same. Pity.
‘There’s something off with her.’ Angelus stated, then, ‘And why does speaking of her evilness hurt you, but my saying something, doesn’t?’
‘It could have been Wolfram & Hart,’ Angel offered, still defending the seer, straightening as the pain again receded. ‘Cordelia just doesn’t have it in her…but Lilah, she does. She’s after us every other week, I’m sure this had something to do with her.’
‘Don’t insult my intelligence,’ Angelus snapped. ‘You and I both know had those imbeciles tried something on us, that skanky lawyer would’ve been in our face all week over it. And it doesn’t explain the pain just now.’
Angel couldn’t deny that and they both knew it. ‘No, you’re right, but,’ he shook his head, preparing for more pain. ‘But I doubt Cordelia could do something like this. She’s not that type of person.’
‘Now,’ the demon demanded, again ignoring the previously muttered words. He was getting good at that. Plus, unless he missed his guess, the physical pain wasn’t as bad as it first was. ‘What’s the last thing you remember?’
Angel opened his mouth, frowned, closed it. ‘I don’t know,’ he admitted. Still frowning, he went to his bedside, where the portrait of Her used to sit.
‘I don’t know,’ he repeated. There was nothing there now, but a small bouquet of purple plastic flowers. Something was missing, but he couldn’t think straight enough, through the haze of pain still there, to figure out what it was. Her; She was missing, there should be a photo of Her there, smiling out at them with bright sunlight in her loving look. Opening the drawers to the nightstand, he searched for the picture of Her, the pads and pads of sketches he’d done of Her.
‘Her,’ Angel’s voice was low, hurt, deeply aching and unbearably sad; the pain was gone, or banished in his frantic search for Her. And yet even now, when memories of Her flooded him, he couldn’t bring himself to say Her name, afraid that if they did, something would break and they’d be lost.
There were sketches of Her, Her and them, Her and Connor, Her and all three of them, like a family. Her, naked and wanton; Her, innocent and loving but for those eyes that beckoned them to Her with promises of heat and sex.
‘Where are they?’ Then, out loud, “Where are they? What happened to them?”
Equally frantic, Angelus was helpless to do anything more than be within Angel. Closer to the surface, not nearly as lonely as he’d once been, but still not free. Almost. But not quite. And almost free meant that…what? he wondered. Meant what? That they were equal? That they were finally one individual? That they-
“Ah!” Angel shouted in triumph as he opened the closet door, tossing clothes and shoes and boxes out of his way. There, in the very back, haphazardly tossed as if whomever had done such a thing had been on the verge of being caught, the sketch pads and photo lay. Some were ripped from being carelessly strewn, and he carefully put the edges together to look at Her.
“Beloved,” he sighed, sitting on the floor amid the scattered pieces of a life he didn’t really want, his son crawling to him with a look in his eyes that warned them he already knew what was happening in this world, in this life. And made them ache for their son, hating that someone so tiny, so young and innocent could already be burdened with such a thing.
He traced Her profile, the arc of Her eyebrows, the gentle slope of Her nose, the parted lips, lush and inviting. A rush of love moved through them, warm and strong, sending a tingling of feeling over their skin and flooding their heart. A small pulsing beat echoed in their veins, but they were still disoriented, didn’t realize what that meant. Not yet.
“How could I forget You, my love? How could I ever forget You and think of another?”
Connor’s head bumped their thigh, and they scooped their son into their arms, settling the boy against their chest so he, too, could see the photo, the sketches.
“What did she do to us?” Angel demanded. And there was no pain at the thought, though a very small and quickly fading voice howled at the disloyal thoughts.
‘I don’t know,’ and it was a sigh of relief that things were back the way they should be. What caused Angel to shake off whatever magicks Cordelia – for it could be no one else, not with the pain at such unloving thoughts – zapped them with, neither knew, but it was enough. For now, it was enough. ‘But I wasn’t around, I can tell you that. I don’t remember anything before you mooning over Whordelia, and since that Razor Beast attacked us.’
Running a hand over his face, trying to scrub images away of Cordelia and of whatever else he’d thought was between them, Angel sighed. ‘How could I have thought that? How could I have, even for one moment, thought that I was in love with Cordy?’
‘Brainless,’ Angelus offered, and then laughed. This was just like the old days. Well, maybe not. ‘I don’t know,’ he offered at Angel’s frustrated growl. The pain and confusion were much more theirs now than his, and Angelus softened. Slightly. ‘She must have used some serious mojo on us to suppress me, and to make you think you had feelings for her. That means that she doesn’t realize what we are, but then,’ he chuckled without humor, ‘Not many do. I mean come on!’ he shook his head. ‘You didn’t even remember Her!’
‘I know,’ he said softly. ‘How could I have ever forgotten Her?’ He looked back down at the photo, smiling slightly. ‘Beloved, I’m so sorry.’
‘We both are,’ Angelus corrected, and Angel nodded.
‘We love You. Only You.’
A sudden knock on the door startled them. Was it Cordelia? No, that wasn’t the sense they got from the other side, though they both knew there was still something off with them. Placing Connor back on the floor to gurgle at the pictures of Her, they went to open it. Wesley stood on the other side, looking disheveled and worried. And scared. Nervous?
“Wes?” they asked. “What’s wrong?”
“Oh,” he waved it off with a smile. “Nothing. Tired, that’s all. It’s been a rough year.”
“Why don’t you go home and get some sleep, then,” they offered. “Whatever you’re working on, it can probably wait one night.”
Connor had crawled to their feet by then, cooing and giggling, pushing the framed photo of Her with him as if afraid to let it out of his sight. Angel scooped him up with a smile, holding the frame so Wesley couldn’t see it, but Connor could. Whispering to him in Gaelic, they smiled at their son. The only bright spot in their life.
Connor smiled back, waving his hands, bumping heads with them as he tried to either hug them or kiss them…or possibly knock them out. It was difficult to tell. But he was such a happy child, so loving and giving. And he loved them. And, they knew, he loved Her, too.
Clearing his throat, Wes held up the empty diaper bag that was slung over his shoulder. “I’m taking Connor for the night, remember?”
Angel looked at him blankly. No, no they didn’t remember. They didn’t remember anything of the kind, but Wes couldn’t have made that up. He’d been nothing but ginger around their son since the day Connor was born, so this was a major step. His scent was off, however, wrong and desperate. But the words he’d spoken were the truth, no lie colored them. There was more…
“Are you sure?” they asked. “If you’re not comfortable…”
Wesley smiled. “Oh, no, no, well,” he laughed here, nervous again and it all made sense to them. He was nervous about being with Connor for so long without someone else. Or was there something else they were missing that Cordelia’s magick clouded? They still felt off.
“Yes, but we’re going to bond.” He held out his arms for Connor. “Aren’t we, Connor?”
Connor said nothing, but his smile faded as he looked to his father. “I don’t know, Wes,” they shook their head, unwilling to let Connor out of their sight. He hadn’t ever been before, well, once but that was to save his live, and for that they’d do anything. “He’s so young. And I’m not sure he’s ready for that step yet.”
“Angel,” and now Wesley was looking at him as if he expect them to roar in anger and devour their son. As if they’d ever do anything like that. Unless something had happened in the last week that neither fully remembered…
There was blood and an earthquake, and…Connor’s blood?
‘What did we do?’ Angel demanded, frantic now.
‘I don’t know,’ Angelus admitted, equally frantic to remember what had happened to make all this come about. Cordelia, this freaky love, and now Wesley. ‘We’d never hurt Connor, no,’ he smiled as Connor looked at them. Love and trust, and maybe a little fear. Fear for them? Or fear that they’d let Wesley have him? Why would the boy fear that? ‘No, we’d never hurt our boy.’
‘But did we? Or did we try? What kind of magicks were we under?’
‘I don’t know!’ Angelus repeated, an image of the purple plastic flowers springing to mind…where else had he seen them? Both were scared. Connor was the only thing in the world to them. He meant everything…to hurt him, meant worse than death. It meant they’d hurt the only other being on this planet that cared for and loved them for who they were.
Kissing Connor’s head, never taking their eyes off their son, they nodded. Turning for a moment, Angel scooped up a sketch of Her, Connor, and them, a family, and folded it carefully, tucking it into Connor’s shirt. “We love you, Connor,” they whispered just loud enough for the baby to hear. He gurgled in return, tapping his chest where the heavy velum lay against his skin.
“Da,” he drooled, and they smiled at the sound.
“Yes,” they said with a proud smile, “We’re your Da…and we love you, son; your mo…She loves you, too.” And, without another word, they handed their son to Wesley.
~~~~~~~~~~
March 7
“Yeah?”
“Spike…there’s something going on here.”
“Ya think, peaches?” Spike grabbed a cigarette and lighted it. “Your vamps are migrating here like a damn locust plague. What’s going on that they’re doing that?”
There was a pause, and Spike worried. It wasn’t a good thing when Angel was silent. Broody, yes, but with his grandchilde? Never. “Peaches? Angel? What’s with the silence? It’s not like you, and really, I can’t deal – it’s scaring me.”
“Connor…” Again, Angel trailed off into silence and Spike’s dead heart constricted.
“There’s something wrong with Connor?” Spike demanded, already standing to pack. If Angel needed him, if Connor was in trouble…he couldn’t finish the thought. Spike had issues with a great many things in this world, with Angel, still, in particular. But if Connor was…
“He’s gone.”
Spike froze. Ice moved through his sluggish veins and his heart broke. His fingers convulsed on the cell phone at the thought. The little bugger was gone? No, it was impossible. He was sweet and cute, and he laughed at his Uncle Spike, and made him feel not quite so alone, not quite so isolated…made him feel a part of something. “Gone?” he repeated, panicked.
“What do you mean…? Gone.” Without waiting for a response, he started for the door, grabbing his keys and jacket on the way. Screw packing.
“He’s…Wesley took him. Connor’s staying the night with him.”
Spike stopped half in and out of the door. “What?” he breathed again, sagging against the wall at the rest of Angel’s words. “He’s only staying with Wes? Bloody Hell, Angelus, why didn’t you say that in the first place? I thought someone’d taken the kid. Lord, man, don’t do that to me!”
“It’s my first night without him, Spike.” Damn, he sounded lost, and Spike found himself feeling sorry for the poof. “What if something happens?”
“Then we’ll deal. We have so far, right? We won’t let anything happen to him.” he took a drag on his cigarette. Man, he needed a drink. “Like we did a coupla weeks ago when you finally brought the little tyke down here, and those Klauukaa’s attacked, wanting the kid as a sacrifice. And other than the fact Faith was mad that you hadn’t been down before everything was fine, right? Didn’t let anything happen to him then, did we.”
Actually, they’d kicked serious ass. Faith had held the kid, a little awkwardly, and it was clear she wanted to join the fight instead. But she hadn’t, keeping Connor safe as he and Angel killed the pair of child-sacrificing demons that had attacked. Nothing had happened to Connor; in fact the kid had smiled throughout the thing when Faith turned him around to let him watch. Clearly, he was rooting for his father and uncle to win. It was almost…heartwarming.
When his father had returned, his right leg covered with green slime, his son had clapped his hands, grinned toothlessly, and held his arms out for Angel. Scooping him into his arms, Angel laughed, raising him then kissing his cheek.
“That’s my boy,” he’d said as Spike wrapped his arm around Faith. “Tell your Uncle Spike and Aunt Faith how your dad kicks ass.”
“Don’t curse in front of the kid,” ‘Aunt’ Faith had scolded, but there was a slight blush to her cheeks at the title and a definite note of pride in her voice as she laughed.
“Sorry,” Angel apologized to his child with a sheepish grin as they walked back to the mansion.
Connor gurgled and smiled, chatting in that childish way of his that in no way resembled English. It was still cute and endearing, and Spike wondered where his fearsome countenance went. Angel’s, too, for that matter. Hell, even Faith seemed to melt around the kid, and together, the three of them had gone from the fiercest warriors in recent years to a bunch of normal adults cooing over a child.
Pathetic.
But man, that kid was cute.
They’d gone back to the mansion, sat and chatted while Faith ate and Connor tried to crawl on the blanket Spike found for him, and generally had a great night. Angel had stayed until he was nearly too late leaving Sunnydale to head back to LA and his loser friends. Faith had tried to talk him into staying, into leaving LA and the people who didn’t understand him, into being with them, into helping here, into raising Connor here.
But Spike knew why he wouldn’t – and it had nothing to do with raising a kid on the Hellmouth.
Buffy was from Sunnydale. In LA, sure there were memories but, with skill, Angel could avoid them. In Sunnydale, he could not. In Sunnydale, she was everywhere, and Angel wasn’t ready to deal with Buffy – her death, her legacy, her place in his heart that still ached and bled – let alone live here permanently.
He’d taken Connor to her grave, that Spike knew. Knew Angel had told him stories, knew Connor, despite his extremely young age, had learned what Buffy meant to Angel. Knew that Angel still hadn’t discovered what happened to Buffy’s body. It was that one thing that kept him in LA – not his loser friends, not the fact that he wanted Connor to grow up in a town that would suck the life out of you faster than anything in Sunnydale, no. It was his absolute certainty those lawyers were responsible, and he was going to kill every last one of them.
But first he had to find Buffy.
“Connor is here,” Angel had said as Faith let the vampires talk without her there. “I need to find Her,” he’d reassured Spike, “But I can’t leave my son alone with…them.”
“We’ll find her together, then,” Spike promised. “And take care of Connor, too.”
“Yes, they…the gang…” Angel nodded, glancing back at the baby seat and a gurgling Connor. “Take care, Spike,” he’d said then, “And take care of Faith.”
“You know,” Spike said quietly as Angel got in the car. “Faith’s right…LA isn’t good for you. They don’t understand you, and certainly don’t know what she and Connor mean to you.”
“No,” Angel’s voice was quiet. “They don’t.”
Spike was forced to wonder just what had happened to have Angel admit to that so readily. And why he was still there – other than finding Buffy – with the people who called themselves family, called themselves friends, but didn’t understand something so basic about Angel as to even know that he was hurting. Grieving. Aching for his lost mate.
“What about Europe?” He’d asked. “There are still demons there Faith can slay – Sunnydale doesn’t have the corner market on them. We can all go there; don’t you have a place in Italy or France or something? Or,” Spike paused, “Both?”
Nodding Angel said, “Once I find Her.”
There was muttering at the other end of the line now, and Spike swore he heard a sigh of relief, swore he felt all the tension drain from the elder vamp. “Yeah, yeah we did.”
“Connor’ll be fine. And if not, we’ll kill whoever’s responsible for harming the kid.”
Angel snorted in relieved laughter. “Was that supposed to make me feel better?”
“No, it was a promise,” Spike vowed, gravely serious. Pausing a moment, he then asked, “Anything, yet?”
“No.” His voice was hard now, determined and once more the silkily delivered lethal promise that was Angelus. “They’ve distracted me with Connor. Cults after him, Lilah wanting him for her experiments, Holtz everywhere. Strange magicks that make me forget weeks at a time. They’ve planned this well. But I will find her.”
“If you ever want Faith to baby-sit,” Spike offered, wondering what he meant about magick and forgetting, but Faith was nowhere around, so he was safe in voicing those words. “We can beat it out of the lawyer.”
“You know,” Angel was nodding, Spike was sure of it. Sure he could see the smile on his grandsire’s face; sure he could hear Angelus already planning a hundred ways to torture the lawyer. “I just might take you up on that. I’m sure Lilah will be more than pleased to pay us a visit.”
Laughing, Spike promised, “When Wes brings Connor back tomorrow, drive on down. We’ll leave the kid here, let Faith and Tara watch him two hours from Lilah and her claws, and see what the dear knows.”
“You’ve got yourself a plan,” Angel agreed. “Just make sure you tell Faith first.”
~~~~~~~~~~
Walking down the stairs, still wired from the knowledge that they were spending their first night without Connor, Angel went to see his team. Wesley was gathering Connor’s things, had actually shooed Angel out of the room, saying that he needed to give the boy space, and that Wesley was perfectly capable of bathing him on his own. Reluctantly, they had left.
There were things they were missing in the group, dynamics they didn’t understand, but they didn’t know what. Hell, they didn’t know what they’d done the last week to make Wesley so strained around them. And in love with Cordelia? What the hell had happened to make anyone think that?
‘I told you we should’ve killed her,’ Angelus grumbled. Angel ignored him. At least the pain was gone – and what was with that?
No one was there, but when they glanced at Fred’s notes on the counter, they realized just what had happened the past week neither could remember. They didn’t understand it all, wondered why she’d written all this down in the first place when she’d probably told them. Even if they didn’t remember.
Had she told Cordelia, too? Was this a possible reason for the bizarre memory-altering and feeling-altering magicks? And what the hell was with those stupid plastic flowers?
Blood= 75% pig/25% human
Human? Type=AB-
Match=Conn
They stopped cold at the words.
She hadn’t finished the word. Why she’d thought to look specifically for Connor’s blood, they didn’t know, but were eternally grateful to her that she had. That explained why. Why they’d blacked out, why they were susceptible to dark magicks. Lilah was poisoning them. Not by feeding them human blood, or even Connor’s blood. But because she was feeding them the blood from someone they loved and loved them in return.
It was the strongest of magicks, and Lilah knew that. maybe it wasn’t Cordelia who poisoned them, not with this knowledge.
‘They’ve been feeding us our own son’s blood?’ Angelus growled, hand convulsing on the sheet of paper until it resembled nothing more than shreds.
‘So we’d get the taste of it and want more.’ Angel was already heading out the door. They knew who was behind this. ‘So that we’d be weak, not physically, but spiritually.’
‘I’m going to kill that bitch.’
Lilah was back at the bar where she’d met Sahjhan several weeks ago. It wasn’t the best she’d ever been to, but it was out of the way enough where she wouldn’t run into anyone she knew. Here, she could think and drink. Think about Buffy Summers, her relationship to Angel. His relationship with his team, how even Lilah could sense the strain there. Holtz, Sahjhan, and little Connor.
Something within her rebelled against using a child, but that something was far outweighed by her own self-preservation. The kid was cute, Angel really loved him – which was enough reason to use him – and even though there were a thousand and one prophecies about the kid, about Angel, Lilah almost wanted to let them alone. Almost.
She looked up then, into the mirrored wall behind the bar; her vamp sense, as she called it, was sending alarms through her. Told her when she was in danger from corporate backstabbing, bloodsuckers of both human and demon variety, and Angel. Specifically Angel. Not because they had any great relationship, but because she tried to kill him every other week, and he’d begun to return the favor.
Lilah was convinced that should he actually wish to kill her, she’d be dead before she realized the rules had changed.
Keith, the bartender, placed another drink in front of her before moving out of the line of fire. “Couldn’t blame him there,” she muttered, then aloud, “Like a cat,” she made a claw motion with her hand. “Can’t hear you. But I’m starting to feel you when you’re near.” Turning around, she looked at him a moment.
Damn, he looked good. Even angry – especially angry – she wanted him. Wanted to feel him stretch her, move in her. She probably needed therapy for wanting to fuck a vampire, but then she probably needed therapy for a lot of things.
“Isn’t that nice and creepy? How’d you find me?”
“Your assistant.” They moved another stop closer, eyes brown, voice calm. They’d had years of practice and weren’t going to waste anything on the highly aroused woman before them. But then, they agreed, they could use that to their advantage.
“I’ll have his arms broken.”
They smiled, predatory and promising. “Already taken care of.” The man’s screams held promise. It was so nice to know they hadn’t lost their touch.
“And am I next, then?” she held out her arm. “Are you here to break my arms, too?” she sent him a sultry smile. “How about you tie me up first, instead?”
“You know, Lilah,” another step, voice lowered, seductive, cunning. “There are so many things to do to you.” Their hand reached out to cup her face, soft, caressing. “You could enjoy every moment of it, but then…I’m that good. You’d enjoy it until you were so addicted to me, my cock, my fangs in your throat…I could cause you to climax from that alone.” Her eyes were wide, interested, her breath coming in short pants, and it was clear even to someone without super-senses that she wanted them.
His hand grasped her chin tightly, forcing her to look at him. “And then I’d beat it out of you. You’d enjoy that, too. You’d enjoy everything I do to you, and you know why? Because you’d know only me, you’d want only me. And when we got to the really interesting stuff, when you screamed for mercy, I’d enjoy that. With transfusions I could keep you alive indefinitely. I do have more than a little expertise in this area.”
He released her chin, watching as she forced herself not to rub the skin. “My own son, Lilah. How could you?”
“It’s my job,” she said, turning her back on him. Sipping her drink, she tried to forget Angel’s words, forget how he worked her up so quickly with his words and voice. He sat beside her, and somehow she wasn’t surprised.
“Don’t you ever get tired of the whole femme fatale act?” The bartender approached them cautiously and they said, “Whiskey, straight, lots of it.” Turning back to Lilah, they wondered which to ask first. Connor. Buffy. “How about just once – you talk to me like a person?”
“Look,” she snapped. “I’ve been doing this a long damn time. I’ve had to be better, smarter, quicker than every man in Wolfram & Hart.”
“So, it’s a feminist thing.” She was strong and feminine. Beautiful and erotic, fast, faster than he, and She could take them. It was such a turn-on to know She could take them but enjoyed being dominated by them instead. Jerking their head at Lilah as the bartender placed the tumbler of whisky before them, they said, “It’s on her.”
“It’s a survival thing,” she corrected. “I made a lot of devil’s bargains, and I stuck to them. As a result, I live somewhat dangerously, and quite comfortably. My mother, who no longer recognizes me, has the best room at the clinic. I get up every morning, put on my game face and do what I have to.”
They slipped into theirs, briefly showing her who she messed with. What she threatened to take from them. “Thing about a game face, Lilah,” they sipped the whisky, “You wear it long enough, it stops being something you can put on and take off.”
“Wow.” She shook her head at him, sipping her own drink. “We’ve spent so much time and money on you. You’re so pivotal to the coming cataclysm, that I sometimes forget how dense you can be. The game face – the one I worked so hard to get – I became that years ago. Just like you’ve become simpering and good from yours; you’re the new poster boy for human. Thank you very much; I don’t want it.”
“Hmm, speaking as one non-human to another: sorry if I hit a nerve.” They grinned at her, had her revising her opinion of their simpering and goodness with the flashing eyes, the fangs glistening in the dim light of the bar. And maybe that whole thing about the game face wasn’t directed at her, but was about…him.
“And just so you know,” they lowered their voice, leaned closer. “You don’t know shit about us. You may think you do, but really it’s all an illusion. The Senior Partners are clueless, you and your boytoy are idiots, and we’re still here. And we’re still looking for Her.”
“We?” Lilah questioned. “Her?” She shook her head again. “Angel, I think you’ve lost it. Must be what drinking your son’s blood does to you. Tell me,” she turned to face him. “How did he taste?”
“Want to find out, Lilah? I can arrange for you to have a taste of a loved one’s blood. I’m sure your mother will be a perfect candidate.”
Shocked, her eyes narrowed at him. This wasn’t the same Angel. But she wasn’t entirely certain it was Angelus, either. One, she was still alive. Two, he hadn’t done more than threaten, and that was because of the whole blood thing. “Well, well,” she murmured. “Mayhap my little scheme worked? Seems to me that you’re not quite the white knight anymore.”
“We’re Hers.” they laughed. “But then you wouldn’t know about that. Wouldn’t know what it means to love another without question, without boundaries.”
“Is this the way you,” she air quoted the next words, “Help your helpless? Is this how you prove you’re the Scourge of Europe, by acting the schizo? Let’s get one thing straight, Angel. I am not helpless. But you know; I’m really glad you came along. I was just wondering why I’m doing this, what this all about, and now I know.” She laughed, finished her drink, and stood.
“It’s all about making the rest of your eternal life miserable. Drink to that.”
“You back-stabbing, traitorous bitch,” a new voice growled.
Turning, the pair looked at the demon standing behind them. They watched him, listened to his rant on not being everywhere at once. And something about a sworn enemy.
“Sworn enemy?” they asked, confused. “Really? Have we met? Because I don’t remember swearing.”
“Sahjhan,” Lilah said, emphasizing the name, most likely for their benefit, “He found me.”
“So,” they nodded, still at a loss, “You all are in cahoots. Eternal, noncorporal, time-traveling demon; gotcha.” They smirked, rose smoothly from the stood, watched Lilah from the corner of their eye. “You’re the screwball that brought Holtz back.” They shook their head in disgust, in pity, in laughter. “How’s that working out? He’s not very fond of demons, is he?”
“You will learn nothing from me,” Sahjhan vowed, and they laughed.
“Other,” Lilah mumbled, “Than that you’re his sworn enemy, who brought Holtz back, and when that didn’t work out, you came to me. Idiot.”
“Hey! You think my life is easy?” the demon was protesting, but they tuned him out. There was something else in the air. Something dark and elemental and…She was there. Her scent, Her essence.
“So, why do you wanna kill me?” They interrupted the rant. She was near, Lilah…She was on Lilah. Her scent was all over the lawyer. Turning glowing golden eyes to her, they took a deep breath, filling their sense with Her, and contemplated what to do to Lilah.
Kill her. Rip her to pieces. Torture her for what she knows of Her, kill, kill, killkillkill.
“He wouldn’t tell me either,” Lilah admitted, watching him carefully. Frightened now, but still aroused. She was truly frightened. “Not that I need a reason,” she was quick to shrug. “I was just curious. Did he boink your demon bride?” she asked Sahjhan, “Eat your mother? Take your place in history. Oh, wait, I forgot. Time traveler. Which makes it all the more interesting that you needed my help.”
She looked back at Angel, wary now. Why was he staring at her like that? And was he…yes, he was. He was sniffing her! “You really don’t know who he is?’
“You will pay.” Sahjhan vowed in an ominous voice that worked only in cheesy 50s B movies.
“Yeah, yeah,” they shrugged ,more interested in Lilah and what she knew. “For what?” but the demon disappeared, saying nothing more.
“Well, whatever his grudge,” Lilah said, “I think you just made him madder.”
They pinned her with their golden gaze, watching her carefully. Leaning over, they took a deep breath, certain that the elusive scent was Her and that Lilah had Her. Yes, She clung to Lilah’s hair, skin, clothing.
“Where is She, Lilah?” they asked. Pulling back, they watched the lawyer. “It’ll go easier if you tell us. Just tell us where She is.”
“Did you just sniff me?” Lilah demanded, but it was the only thing she could think of to say. How the hell had he known? “And who the hell is this ‘we’ business?”
He’s gone. Find him. Keep him safe.
Wherever those words came from, Angel heeded them, certain She had warned them. “Don’t fuck with us, Lilah,” they warned as they left. “You’ll be sorry we didn’t kill you to begin with.”
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