“Earlier,” Lorne said, an ice pack to his cracked skull, seabreeze in hand. “When Wes picked the baby out of the playpen, Connor started crying. Wes hummed a little lullaby; I read him.”
“And?” Angel had a bad feeling about this. If Wesley did this, and Lorne looked like this, then…’Connor’s in danger.’
“And...I don’t know why he did it, Angelcakes.”
“Did what?” But they were already standing. Heading for the weapons rack, they grabbed a broadsword and waited for Lorne to say what they already knew. That was what they’d heard, or thought they heard, when they were at the bar with Lilah. But nothing had seemed out of the ordinary when they’d arrived back at the hotel, sneaking in the back way.
They hadn’t been gone long, not long enough for Wes to leave, that was for sure. And when they’d walked down the stairs, seen Wes holding their son, they had to wonder just what it was they’d heard. Connor was fine.
“He – he’s been to see Holtz behind your back.” Okay, that wasn’t what they’d been expecting, but… “Twice. And he’s not taking the baby overnight. He’s – he’s taking the baby away – for good.”
“We’re going to kill him,” Angel growled, already out the door.
It wasn’t hard to find Connor, even in a city the size of LA and all the suburbs. They couldn’t find Wes, but they’d deal with the traitor later. With knives and needles and acid, maybe.
‘I like the acid,’ Angelus approved. ‘Nice touch.’
“Thank you,” Angel grinned as he followed his son’s scent through the night air, heavy with the approaching storm. Unsurprisingly, Connor’s trail led them to Wolfram & Hart.
“We should’ve known,” Angel sighed, climbing out of his car, the strong wind buffeting him with scents he knew intimately. “She’s here,” there was awe in his voice as he sensed Her. “She’s in the building; Lilah’s kept Her here all this time…”
‘I’m going to enjoy killing that lawyer.’
“First things, first,” Angel remanded them needlessly. “We need to get our son back.”
“Talking to yourself, Angel?” Lilah’s voice drifted from before him, disembodied in the thick air. “What’s the cliché? First sign of senility? But then you are pretty old.”
“Not up to your normal standards, Lilah,” they snapped, appearing before her faster than she could blink. Wrapping a hand around her throat, they continued. “Where’s our son?”
“I don’t have him,” she said, and they knew she was telling the truth. “And who’s this ‘our’ you keep referring to? What’s with the plural?”
“You should understand, Lilah,” they laughed, already moving away from her, sword at the ready.
Wondering what he meant by that, Lilah followed. She hated to miss the show. Maybe she should’ve sold tickets…
Sahjhan was there, standing unconcerned as the wind whipped through him, ozone heavy in the air. Another clap of thunder echoed, closer this time as the storm’s fury worsened. He was screaming again, and they wondered if he ever spoke in a normal tone.
“So Wesley takes my son,” they say, catching everyone’s attention. “Betrays me to Holtz who then takes Connor to the demon he’s working for. Gee Holtz,” they continued, still walking closer to the demon hunter, sword raised. “And here I thought you hated demons; guess that only applies until you need them. Hypocritical if you ask me.”
“Ah, but no one has, Angelus,” Holtz said in that smooth voice, unafraid despite those surrounding him – Wolfram & Hart’s goons, Sahjhan and his magick, a very pissed off Angel with a very long sword. He had all the advantage – he had the boy.
Not bothering to correct the man, Angel didn’t stop until they were within striking distance from Holtz. “What did Sahjhan offer you?”
“Merely the chance to get my revenge on you.”
“Funny thing about revenge, Holtz,” they said as Connor tried to reach for his father, babbling Dada and crying. “It’ll always come back to bite you in the ass.”
Holtz laughed at that, stepping away from them, still with their son in his arms. “It really was a simple plan, Angelus,” he informed them. “But now I’m afraid the plan’s changed.”
~~~~~~~~~~
“I call on you Osiris!” Willow intoned, as she had every few days for months. “Heed my plea; bring back Buffy Summers, Slayer.”
And so it went. The same chant, over and over as she had since completing the rituals, since knowing she was going to open the portal to dark magicks, darker than even those used by the gypsies to curse Angelus.
Lightening struck, singeing the ground where she and Xander sat. The air was heavy with magicks, with secrets, and with anticipation, waiting for it all to happen. Wind whipped around them, and if she didn’t know better, Willow would say that a freak storm was brewing in Sunnydale.
But no, it was the product of her magicks, and she and her childhood friend knew that. This was it, then. Maybe this was the night. Smiling, she continued to chant, Xander by her side holding the candle that didn’t so much as flicker in the atmospheric rush.
Lightening struck again, closer this time, a streak that danced along the ground towards them, only to dissipate before hitting them. Or striking the grave.
~~~~~~~~~~
The spell Sahjhan shouted over the pummeling winds and almost constant claps of thunder had lightening striking the ground in a near perfect circle around Angel, Connor, and Hotlz.
“Connor!” they shouted. But there was nothing to be done; Holtz had threatened their son’s life, and they wouldn’t ever do anything to harm their boy.
A bolt of lightening struck Wolfram & Hart just as Sahjhan’s spell ended and the portal to Quar-toth opened behind Holtz. Was this Sahjhan’s plan all along? But to what end? What purpose did he have in taking Connor to a harsh hell dimension?
“And have I mentioned,” Sahjhan cackled, “That it can only be opened once every, oh, three years?” But they only barely heard him as Holtz pushed Justine before a terrified Angel in an effort to stop the vampire from attacking him. But they were too afraid for Connor’s life – Holtz was unstable as it was – to do anything to stop the man.
~~~~~~~~~~
In the distance something howled, animal or demon, neither could say, but the wind increased its movements, the lightening illuminating the sky almost constantly now.
“Heed my plea!” Willow continued. “Return the beloved soul of Buffy Summers to her body! Return our friend, our Slayer to us!”
Immediately in front of them, between the friends, one last burst of lightening pelted the ground, scorching grass and dirt, leaving nothing but smoke and the smell of sulfur in its wake.
~~~~~~~~~~
The wind was a frenzied howl as Angel tried to rush behind Holtz and leap into the portal behind their son. But they were too late. The portal closed. The echo of Connor’s cries for his father the only thing they could hear.
Justine, panicked, jumped in the SUV and drove away, afraid of the consequences of her actions. They watched her go – she was for later, when they could remember why she mattered. Lilah watched as they howled in the storm, screaming for their son.
“Let’s go,” she whispered, ordering her goons to stand down, and they wondered if she was somehow affected by all that had happened.
The rain began to fall then, a soft, gentle patter of cool drops that mingled with their tears.
“They took them both from us,” they whispered into the night, quiet now, and empty.
And now, no one remained safe them.
~~~~~~~~~~
Slowly, Xander straightened from where he’d flung himself to the side, out of the way of the attacking electricity. Worried, he looked at Willow, crawled over Buffy’s grave to help her up. She was weaker than before, whatever was in the atmosphere tonight really took a lot out of her.
“Willow?” he asked, panicked. “Willow, are you alright?” there was no answer. Lifting her with weak limbs, he settled his dearest friend against him, holding her close as he rocked her.
“Buffy,” she whispered, eyes fluttering in the thick night. Rain had just begun to fall, cool and gentle, in direct contrast to the fury of before.
“No, Will,” Xander said softly, the heavy burden of their repeated failure heavy in his voice. “We didn’t do it.”
Looking at him with tears in her beautiful eyes, Willow stood, legs almost refusing to hold her. Kneeling at the foot of Buffy’s headstone, miraculously untouched by the lightening, she wiped drops of mud off the granite.
“I’m so sorry, Buffy,” she whispered, crying in her failure. “I failed you.”
“Come on, Will,” Xander said, standing. “Let’s get home. We’ll try again in a few days. I’m sure there’s something we’re missing that’s causing the spell not to work.”
In the distance Faith watched them wander off, arm in arm. “You better hope it never works,” she warned the night. “Or I’ll kill you before Angel has a chance to know what you even did.”
Looking up in the rain, letting the cool cleansing feel of it wash away her hate and sins, her past, Faith smiled. “I know you’re happy, B. And I promise to see that Angel is as well. Until he reaches you in the afterlife.”
With those words of spiritual understanding, The Slayer turned and walked back to her own home. And her own lover.
Warren watched the slayer leave the cemetery and wondered what she was watching. He was going to kill that bitch, one way or another. It was simply a matter of time before they found a way to get to her, to finally get her out of their lives, so they could rule the Hellmouth. And then the world.
With a smile he hoped was sufficiently evil, Warren turned and headed to his own hideout. It was time for a new plan to get rid of that slayer.
~~~~~~~~~~
She opened her eyes.
Everything was blurred, strange. Nothing felt right, nothing looked right. Where was she? What was she? She was…trapped. She was…
She couldn’t remember. No, nothing made sense; this was all strange and wrong. A tingle in the air alerted her to a presence, but she didn’t know what it was, how to identify it, why she even knew it was important.
There were people there, others who watched her. Who had watched her for days, weeks. For her entire life. They spoke to her, whispers that made little sense to her aching ears. But still they kept talking, high pitched sounds that did little to ease her fear.
And she was cold. No, warm. No, what was she? And how did she even know these sensations? Moving her hand, she looked at it; she’d forgotten what it looked like, felt like. Hand. Skin. Nerves, muscles, bones, and tendons. Concentrating hard, she flexed the digits, the fingers, watching them curl and straighten.
Nails. Those long things were nails, sharp and pointed. Was she breathing? Yes, she realized, moving her hands to touch her face. She was…there was something over her nose and mouth, but she breathed.
Blinking again, she tried to focus on her surroundings once more. But she couldn’t. Where was she? What was she? Everything was still blurred, still out of focus, and it hurt. What hurt? Everything. Everything hurt, and she didn’t know why; and still, there was shouting. Excited, yes, they were excited, words that barely penetrated her cocoon.
Her bubble – she was inside something, but what?
Confused, tired, she closed her eyes. Aching with pain, unable to comprehend why that was, she closed her eyes and slept. She needed to heal, needed to restore herself before she made a move…what move? Why did she think that?
Deep within her a thing raged and warned, so she heeded its words, and slept. She needed her strength, needed her abilities around her.
“Angel,” she sighed, before consciousness fled. It was the only word that made sense, the only thing she could say. The only thing she knew.
~~~~~~~~~~
Lilah entered the quiet sanctuary of the sublevel laboratory and watched her charge, carefully studying her as if seeing her for the first time.
Buffy’s hair was longer than it had been when they’d first brought her back, long and flowing in the thick gel that surrounded her, and almost white in color. Why that was, Lilah couldn’t begin to imagine, but she thought it suited the young slayer. Her skin was pale, too; alabaster instead of the golden tan in the smiling photos they had in her file.
“You recall I’ve mentioned Connor?” she began. It’d become something of a ritual, seeing the captive nude body of the slayer every evening before heading home. Tonight, however, Lilah wasn’t sure she was going to make it home – there were too many things to wrap up, and she had a…meeting…with Hamilton.
“Well, the plan was successful. More so than even I thought.” She walked around the tank once, just to reassure herself that her greatest prize wasn’t harmed in any way. She wasn’t...of course, she wasn’t; Buffy was trapped in the tank until they brought her out. It was as simple as that.
“Holtz took Connor into Quar-toth, a nasty hell dimension that’s so bad, so malevolent, so terribly awful, it can only be opened once every few years.” She stopped her pacing, staring into the serene and blank face of Buffy Summers. “Sahjhan, you recall I told you of him?” There was, of course, no answer. “He opened the portal – I had no idea that was where he planned on sending the boy.”
Shaking off her moment of introspections, Lilah said, “Angel’s a mess. Talking to himself, muttering like a raving lunatic,” but there was no satisfaction in her voice. “Referring to himself in the plural – he’s gone. When we left him, devastated in the rain, he could barely move, kept repeating ‘Connor’…”
Clearing her throat, Lilah wondered what happened to her. Where this emotion came from, and why now. Hell, why at all.
“He’s going to get revenge,” she told Buffy quietly. “And I’m not sure he’s going to stop short of murder.” She watched Buffy’s face and admitted, “And I’m not sure I blame him.”
To Lilah’s everlasting surprise and horror, Buffy Summers then opened her eyes and looked directly at the lawyer.
~~~~~~~~~~
“He’s gone, Spike.”
This time, when Angel said those words, a shiver of apprehension washed over Spike. He moved from Faith’s side and walked, naked, to the far end of the room.
“Connor?”
“Yeah.”
“He’s with Wesley, mate,” Spike said, and started to light a cigarette. But Dawn so hated that…
“Wesley betrayed me,” Angel growled, and that was when Spike knew. The soul wasn’t gone, no if that were the case Angelus’d already be in Sunnydale, and they’d already be having some sort of showdown. No, the soul wasn’t gone…but it was definitely listening to the demon.
“He took Connor for the night and handed him over to Holtz, who willingly leapt into Quar-toth.”
Frowning, Spike dropped the cigarette onto the stone floor and glanced at Faith who was awake now and watching him from their rumpled bed with fear in her dark eyes. “Quar-toth?” Spike repeated, as much to Angel as to Faith; she shook her head, no – she hadn’t heard of it, either.
“Hell dimension – the worst of them.”
Swallowing, Spike frantically gestured to Faith to get dressed and packed. “Wesley did this? He betrayed you? We’ll be there in two hours.”
Hanging up, Spike turned just in time to catch the pants Faith flung at him. “I’m calling Giles,” he said, quickly dressing as Faith reached under the bed for their duffle bags. “Maybe he knows something about this Quar-toth that can help.”
~~~~~~~~~~
They stormed into the hotel lobby, a constant growl coming form their chest.
“We found Wes,” Fred admitted in a small voice. “From what we found, and what Lorne said, he thought you were going to kill Connor.”
“Never,” Angel snapped, tossing the sword onto the weird red circular couch and heading for the door once again. “But Wesley is a dead man.”
“Angel, wait!” Fred called after him, running behind him when Angel didn’t stop. “It wasn’t Wes’ fault! He was only doing what he thought was best! The prophecy said ‘The father will kill the son’…he didn’t want you living with that guilt.”
Angel turned so abruptly that Fred rammed into him. But his arms didn’t automatically reach out to steady her, his cool, strong hands didn’t stop her fall as she stumbled backwards.
“Connor was always safe. Wesley is a dead man.”
~~~~~~~~~~
Lilah’s startled scream echoed around the empty room, and she staggered back a step. Annoyed at her overly-girly reaction, she immediately straightened and tried to calm her racing heartbeat.
A technician and two of the remaining shamans entered just then, and one ran up to her. “Ms. Morgan,” he began in an overly excited voice, “It was success-”
Lilah whirled on him, fire in her eyes. “She’s alive? She has her soul? And you didn’t think to tell me?”
He sputtered. “We tried to find you,” he insisted.
“Did you think to call?” She held out her cell phone as an example.
He looked sheepish, and shook his head, no. “It happened not long ago. The terrible storm,” he looked up as if he could actually see the sky from several hundred feet below the earth, “It must have had something to do with that.”
Looking back at Buffy, Lilah stepped closer. “Buffy,” she said quiet reference in her voice, “Can you hear me?”
There was no answer, but a spark of something in her eyes told Lilah that she was alive and conscious, that her brain worked, that her memory was there. “Angel,” the slayer said, but nothing more.
~~~~~~~~~~
“Buffy,” they said, quietly in the emptiness of their rooms. Looking out into the rainy night, they knew, without a doubt, that She was alive, and close.
“We’ll get Her,” they said, promising whoever was listening. “We’ll get Her and Connor…” a growl, a howl that reverberated into the night “We’ll find them both.”
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