Email: mail@cbaird82.freeserve.co.uk
Content: A/C, F/G, W/Lilah...
Summary: Let's see, Tara, Doyle and Lindsey make an appearance in this fic - but really they don't. Confused yet? You will be... Don't really know how to sum it up without giving everything away.
Spoilers: Everything in Season 3, speculation for what my wacky mind thinks could NEVER happen in Season 4..
Disclaimer: The characters in the Angelverse were created by Joss Whedon & David Greenwalt. No infringement is intended, no profit is made.
Notes: To Lisa, my beloved best Australian buddy! To Tonya, for wonderful beta-ness and BRILLIANT Anya/Gilesness..
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~Part: 1~
At night, she dreamt. Dreamt of demons, of families who didn't appreciate her and families who did. She dreamt of a girl. What was odd was, this girl, this girl had the nicest lips and she didn't think she liked girls like that! At least not now.
"Anna, where's my drink?"
Nervously, the blonde girl dipped her head as the guy asked for a drink. Some days? Her name was Anna, and on the others, it was something she'd made up because she couldn't remember the other one.
In her dreams, there was magick.
There was something else other than this. There was light.
Even in the daytime, for her there was darkness. There was nothing holding her to this world, nothing to connect her. A couple of days ago, a guy had pretended to care. Pretended that he was interested in helping her, and she'd believed him. For some reason, she believed that there was good in this world. She saw it at night, when she slept, surely it could exist in the day.
The guy? Not good. Not like those in her dreams. Not the slightly older man - who even now, she could see wiping his glasses on his shirt. It made her eyes mist with tears - the small, kind smile on his face. And then, she could see the blonde girls, two of them. One, as tactless as anything - the other, giving. Giving and giving and giving until her body didn't want to give anymore. Until finally, they'd laid her to rest.
Anna was crazy - was that her name today? Yes. She felt like an Anna. She was crazy because she dreamed of Demons. Of little girls who weren't really there, but whom she loved all the same.
And that was where her light came in. Her light was pretty, her light was kind.
Her light had spoke to her once upon a time when no one else wanted to. Her light was... Hurting. Last night, the glow had seemed to dim and Anna had cried for hours when she'd woke in her apartment.
If she didn't have that light, that family, even if they were a product of her crazy imagination, then what else did she have? Darkness. She had darkness.
An apartment. Something she'd happened on quite by chance. Working a bar in Vegas meant money. She was a quick learner, kept herself quiet, unnoticed. Didn't bug anybody. As a result, she had to listen to a guy in a green demon costume singing. The costume was okay, the horns looked fake - and still, Anna thought he looked like one of those demons she dreamt of but... A demon singing in a Las Vegas lounge? What were the odds? Not likely, was it?
"Anna," The voice broke into her reverie and she turned, looking at her boss. He was a nice guy, one of the most decent in Vegas, she'd found. "Pour the man his drink."
She turned again and found the same guy who'd asked for the drink standing in front of her. "S-sorry..." She whispered.
A moment and a scowl later, the guy had walked away and Anna was stood beside her boss. "Anna, you're a good kid. You look... Distracted. Is it... Is it drugs?" He asked tentatively, placing a hand on her shoulder. "If it's drugs, you know the rules, you're out."
"N-no," She whispered, "It's... I didn't get much sleep, I..."
Jack sighed. "Go collect the glasses. Then, you get yourself home and get some sleep or pretty soon, you won't have the crappy job you have now," He said, though not unkindly. He knew how unkind Las Vegas could be to someone like Anna, that was part of the reason he'd took her in. As Jack watched her walk away, he sighed.
Me and my bloody good heart, He half-groused, Nina always said it would be my downfall.
Again, Anna dipped her head as she collected the glasses, singing a little tune she'd heard in her dream world, softly...
I'm under your spell
How else could it be
Anyone would notice me?
It's magic I can tell
How you set me free
Brought me out so easily...
Anna smiled. Her dream world was nice, safe. It was here in the real world where things weren't so nice.
* * *
"Because I don't WANT to admit it!" Yelled Fred, tears streaming down her cheeks. "If you tell me to admit they're dead, then you're telling me to give up hope and I can't give up hope because that was all that kept me alive in Pylea and I got out of there eventually! I can't..."
There was a beat. A beat in which Gunn stared plaintively at Fred's face until finally, he crossed the room and cupped her face in his hands, kissing her softly. "I'm sorry." He whispered quietly.
They were both tired. For three months, they'd done what they could - upturned every stone, visited every informant both demon and human and turned up nothing. Today, Gunn had suggested the very thing Fred hadn't wanted to hear - that maybe they should just admit Cordy and Angel were dead.
At first, before the running around for information and the stomach-clenching fear, Fred had remained hopeful - suggested that maybe they'd gone to get 'happy', but Gunn had burst that bubble with an enormous pin.
If Angel and Cordelia had gone to get happy? In that case, he and Fred would both be a mass of brains on the wall and wouldn't exactly be talking right now.
"I know what you're saying," Said Fred softly, "I really do, but I lived for five years having to cling to something. When you're all alone in a cave and the two suns aren't shining any light, the only light you have is hope. And I know that didn't make sense, but..."
"I get it." Said Gunn, sadly. "No hope-giving-up in this hotel. But... Y'know something?"
"What?"
"You're not alone. Hope's not all you have. You have me."
For a moment, the old Fred was back and the smile that she gave almost split her face in two. "I know I have you and you have me but... We need them too. We need our family back together."
Gunn gave a sigh and a little smile, "So, we're back out looking tonight, huh?"
Fred grinned, "You betcha!"
Sometimes Gunn found himself wondering where she got her energy from - her endless amount of optimism. As it was though, Fred was the one part of his life that made him believe the rest could be better. Before her, there was his self-destruction mission, the one that Cordelia had saved him from. Without her, he wouldn't have this in his life.
Reaching down, Gunn laced his fingers through hers and smiled. "Let's go."
* * *
These days Wesley Wyndam-Pryce didn't need his father's disgust to wear him down. He had his own. He hadn't shaved in days, the repugnant smell of stale scotch stuck to his skin and still, she came back. It had become a nightly ritual. She'd come to his apartment, they'd have sex - hard, brutal - over with as quickly as it had begun and he'd roll away, pretend like it had never happened until she spoke.
"I see we've reverted back to your average cave man Neanderthal -- feeling guilty Wes? Sleeping with the enemy not working out all that well for ya?"
If Wesley reacted to that comment, it didn't show. "I didn't think you'd be that bothered, Lilah. You don't have a heart for the feelings a normal human is capable of."
"I'm hurt, Wesley. Once again, you've struck me right where it hurts, my heart."
"What heart?" Wesley rolled over and plucked his half-empty bottle of scotch from the nightstand, before tossing the dossier Lilah had not-so-strategically placed across the room. "I'm not joining Wolfram and Hart."
The same answer every night. The same flash of frustration in Lilah's eyes and then the smirk, "Once you've done black, you'll never go back." After that, she dressed, left Wesley to his own devices and the same dossier - the feeling that perhaps he was turning to the dark side. Wesley sighed and got up, looking at the shower for a moment, before frowning and picking up his bottle of scotch again.
Alcohol - numbness. Lilah - numbness. What the hell was the difference any more?
* * *
He was going to KILL his agent. Kill her dead. More dead than Angel - the kind that didn't get up and walk around, occasionally brood. He'd always known that she'd had a bad name, but being subjected to THIS every night?
Lorne sighed. What he wouldn't give for a seabreeze right now. As it were, all this crappy bar served was beer. French beer, German beer, Austrian Beer.
He'd like to bet if he asked, he'd be able to get the Pylean equivalent because, after all, this was beer! How he hated themed bars. The theme was... You guessed it, beer. Beer in short glasses, beer in tall glasses, beer in jugs. Beer, beer, beer, beer, beer...
Not a seabreeze in sight!
The opening notes of Lorne's song rang through and he cursed his agent again. She'd advised him to go with a much more 'upbeat' sound. Upbeat? Since when was Babyface upbeat? Lorne frowned, then, as the spotlight turned on him - he threw out that million dollar LA smile and began to sing...
I pretended I'm glad you went away
These four walls closin' more every day
And I'm dying inside
And nobody knows it but me
Like a clown I put on a show
The pain is real even if nobody knows
Now I'm cryin' inside
And nobody knows it but me
A clown. He felt like one. First class, with their big feet and their stupid outfits. At least he didn't have the nose. There was an upside to everything, he supposed...
The nights are lonely
The days are so sad
And I just keep thinkin' about
The love that we had
And I'm missin' you
And nobody knows it but me
I carry a smile when I'm broken in two
Now I'm nobody without someone like you
I'm tremblin' inside, and nobody knows it but me
I lie awake, its a quarter past three
I'm screamin' at night
As if I thought you'd hear me
Yeah my heart is callin' you
And nobody knows it but me
He couldn't explain it. It was like an arrow that hit him right between the eyes -- and he knew that from experience -- Lorne gasped and dropped the microphone, his efforts focused on the blonde girl collecting glasses and humming to herself. Something wasn't right. Her soul... No, her souls PLURAL were jumbled. Each one calling out for a hand to guide them on their way. And what was he, if not an Anagogic demon, intent on setting people on their path?
Plus, what he could see in her future? Concerned friends of his in Los Angeles - friends of his that currently lived... Underwater? What in the holy hell was going on here?
As Lorne got off the stage, he realised that the only way he could approach her, was to sound like a great old pervert, with the line, "Can I buy you a drink?" on his lips.
He only hoped Angel-cakes would appreciate this...
* * *
The figure stood alone in the parking lot, shrouded in darkness. Other
than the streetlights, the only thing that illuminated his face, was his
zippo as he flared up a cigarette. Smoky tendrils curled from between his
fingers and Quinn frowned, waiting until the
building across from him was lit up by only one office light.
With strong, practiced fingers, Quinn flicked his cigarette butt across the parking lot and strode forward, his walk strong, confident. He'd been scoping out this building for three weeks, knew his targets leaving time down to the second. Knew where he lived, which tunafish was his cat's favourite - knew that tonight, he'd be working late on a case that involved children.
Lindsey McDonald was now the worst kind of lawyer.
Righteous.
Good.
Was there anything more nauseating?
Evidently so.
A righteous, good lawyer who threatened to expose his ex-bosses dirty dealings from across the state unless he gave them what he wanted. Money. Money made the world go round and money was the reason that Quinn stood here right now. Quite a large amount of money, in fact. Half a million dollars before the job was completed, half a million after. Sounded fair.
"Got an appointment," Said Quinn to the doddery old security guard behind the desk, his voice harsh, cold. "Lindsey McDonald? Was told to be here at ten..."
Robertson, the security guard, moved forward lethargically, looking down at the book, "Got nothin' here..."
Quinn waited. In the time it took for Robertson to look back up, Quinn's gun was levelled at his chest. "Too bad." He smirked, squeezing the trigger. The shot made barely a noise. His silencer covering the sound, Quinn chuckled as Robertson fell to the floor, blood spreading underneath the guard's body.
His legs made short work of the stairs, by the time Quinn reached the top he was humming a tune, his demeanour one of pleasure, pleasure in the hunt - though he could barely call it that. Perhaps McDonald would give him a run for his money, so to speak.
He stepped into his office to the obvious displeasure of the young lawyer and smiled, a warm, pleasant misleading smile. "Well, when Wolfram and Hart said you were going up in the world, they weren't wrong, huh?"
The mention of his previous employers made Lindsey's eyes narrow and he frowned, reaching for the phone.
Quinn raised his gun quickly, "I wouldn't do that if I were you. No one's coming; your security guard ran into a little accident. It's just me and you, McDonald. The only thing keeping you alive right now is the fact that you have something I want."
Lindsey swallowed, his gaze remaining on the gun. The guy seemed familiar somehow, though he didn't know how... "I have something you want?"
"Files." Said Quinn, "On Wolfram and Hart's dirty dealings. You have two choices, you can either give me the files and I'll make it quick. Or you don't give me the files and I waste time looking for them. Which do you think is the better on you?" He raised his gun and fired a shot, the bullet spitting through Lindsey's shoulder and into the wall behind.
Lindsey screamed, falling from his chair and to the floor. Perhaps it was the shock, or something else that triggered his memory. Never could it be said that Lindsey McDonald wasn't thorough.
When he'd investigated Angel, after the debaucle with Russell Winters - he'd left no stone unturned, knew which day the hottie who worked for him wore pink panties on.
The guy in front of him, minus the Irish accent was Doyle, Angel's employee who'd died little more than two years ago in a bid to save the world.
Lindsey coughed, pain running rife through his body as Doyle came round the desk, "Look, Doyle, whatever Wolfram and Hart are paying you, it's not worth it. Losing your soul over some half a million dollar deal?"
Quinn raised an eyebrow and then his gun, shooting the other shoulder, enjoying the almost inhuman squeal he got from Lindsey, "Soul?" He asked, curtly. "What soul?"
~Part: 2~
After months of working, it felt like she had finally gotten to where she felt like she should be.
In a seat.
With her feet up.
This, thought Cordelia Chase with a smile, Is perfect bliss. Complete and total bliss.
Of course, the chances were, someone was about to come in and tell Cordelia that there was some crisis waiting with her Higher Being name on it.
Occasionally, her thoughts drifted to her friends. Angel… A deep sigh escaped her lips and she picked up the glass of ice water on her table. Her home quarters had been modified to remind her of home, everything in there but Phantom Dennis, the spook she missed like an arm, or maybe a leg.
And Angel.
Would she ever stop missing him? Ever stop wondering what would have happened if she’d gotten there that night? If she’d have told him that she loved him. Would they be together now? Maybe, since they’d found a potion for her and Groo - they could’ve found one for her and Angel.
She’d never know.
Swallowing a lump the size of Sunnydale in her throat, Cordelia looked up in time to see Skip steaming through the doors - wait, steaming wasn’t the right word. Could demons steam? She knew she could, but she was still half-human and Skip was definitely all demon, right down to his - let’s not go there.
“Skip?” Cordelia stood. The look on his face wasn’t one Cordelia was sure she liked. “What’s happened? What’s wrong?”
“You’re needed, Cordelia.”
“Needed?”
“The Powers That Be screwed up, Cordelia. It’s time for you to go home.”
Skip raised his hand and pressed it to her forehead, a bright light skimming from beneath his fingers...
* * *
“And the other guy?”
“In a bad way, Sir, he was taken to LA General about ten minutes ago. Kept mumbling something about angels and employees and… He was pretty delirious.” The police officer frowned, “We found Robertson, Detective Thomas. He’s dead.” Respectively, he cast his eyes downward. Robertson had worked on the force for most of his natural life, like his father before him and his father before that.
Being a cop meant you dealt with death every day. Some bad, some not deserved - and occasionally some scum-sucking bastard would put a bullet through the stomach of one of the best cops around and finish his career in an instant.
Robertson was the result of one of those guys. He’d been one of the best in his field until a drugs bust a few years ago had gone wrong. He’d winded up finishing up his career in the lobby of some law firm, making minimal waves as a security guard.
Resisting the urge to throw his fist through the wall, Det. Thomas looked at the police officer in charge of the scene, “Thanks.”
The fallen body of the other man had been covered with a sheet, preventing onlookers from seeing what had happened. When police had infiltrated the building, the man had fled - ensuing in a police chase that ended two blocks over with a bullet through the head.
No identification, no nothing. They had no idea who this guy was or even what he wanted with Lindsey McDonald. By all accounts, the man’s previous working life hadn’t exactly been a good one. Things got leaked to the LAPD, he hadn’t been a cop for twenty years without noticing that things went on - otherworldly, pretty darned scary stuff. At the bottom of it? Usually Wolfram and Hart - beloved law firm and trouble makers. They had offices everywhere. Los Angeles, London, Paris - and most recently, New York. Right on the cusp of the Big Apple for your general wheeling and dealing.
Thomas frowned, perhaps that was why the guy had been attacked - his unsavoury connections with Wolfram and Hart. They’d know soon enough.
* * *
“I’m going home,” Called Anna softly, turning to meet Jack’s eyes. He gave a nod and a wave in her direction, dealing with a drunk at the other end of the counter.
Anna walked forward, looking for her money to get home in the bottom of her bag. She didn’t see the guy standing in front of her, waiting. Just… Waiting. As if his whole life, or someone else’s, depended on it. “Oh! Sorry!” She whispered nervously, glancing up.
It was the guy from on stage. The one that sang and looked kinda like a demon but not really. Not that she had any real evidence to base her theory on, of course, but still - he didn’t look authentic enough. “I-I’m sorry… I just, got a little dazed was all.”
Lorne smiled, “That’s okay, seems like there’s a lot of that going round in a big city like this, huh?”
Anna dipped her head and went to move away from him, succeeding in getting a few feet before his words stopped her.
“She’s real. It’s all real - everything you see at night, the things you dream. You’re not crazy… You just believe.”
Anna stopped and shook her head, trying to battle away the thoughts that flew at her… Thoughts of a family, of people who loved her and needed her, not for what she could give them but just because.
Just because.
“Please…” She whispered, “Please don’t.”
“I can prove it,” Lorne stepped closer to Anna and placed a hand on her arm, “Sing that song you were singing and I’ll prove it…”
Tears appeared in the corners of Anna’s eyes, before slipping the length of her cheeks. Her voice small, choked, Anna began to sing…
I'm under your spell
How else could it be
Anyone would notice me?
It's magic I can tell
How you set me free
Brought me out so easily...
She squeezed her eyes shut, not expecting proof, not expecting anything…
Each and every night for the past God knew how long, Anna had heard Lorne sing. He had a really powerful voice, one that at the best of times struck Anna to her very soul. But when he sang again, he made Anna sob. Fully - she cried for all the times she’d woken up terrified that it was all just a dream. She cried because Lorne was singing that wonderful second verse that meant he held her world in his hands, the world where she was loved and appreciated and not shunted aside, like yesterday’s news…
I’m under your spell
Nothing I can do
You just took my soul with you
You worked your charms so well
Finally, I knew
Everything I dreamed was true
You made me believe
Lorne paused and looked down at Anna, almost breathless from singing something so heartfelt, so… So… Not forced. The song had been born out of love, out of a demon up to no good, if he read rightly, but out of love. “Someone really did take your soul, didn’t they sweetie? No charms, no mystical forces - everything you believed, everything you dreamed was true.”
Anna looked up at him, “Help me?” She whispered.
“That’s what I do.” Replied Lorne with a smile, “C’mon, let’s get you back where you belong.”
* * *
*THUD*
Cordelia yelped as she was dropped, non-too-gently, back on the face of the planet again. Of course, it would happen like this (although it could have been worse, she might have been naked) but as it were, having cars whizzing past you left, right and centre was NOT her idea of a good time.
“DAMNIT SKIP!” She squealed as a truck roared past her, skimming her by an inch. She was going to die here, right in the very place she’d been taken from to become a higher being - fat lot of good that had done.
Spinning out of the way, Cordelia yelped, thrown right into the path of an oncoming limousine. It stopped, inches away from where she stood.
Cordelia gasped and leaned heavily on the hood of the car as the passenger got out.
“Miss, are you alright?”
She breathed deeply before nodding, “Yeah I’m…”
When she looked up, the man was standing, arms folded across his chest, a smug look on his face. “Cordelia Chase, right?”
“Do I know you?” She whispered, breathlessly. He was cute in a smug ‘I know everything kind of way’ – not her type. She liked two kinds of men, dorks or brooders.
“Pretty soon, you won’t know yourself. I shouldn’t worry.” He shrugged, waving a hand slightly in the air.
Three demons surrounded her, two grabbing her by the arms, the other there merely for back up. “What’s happening?” Before Cordelia knew what was happening, or even had the chance to look, a needle was being jabbed into her neck, her scream filtering and dying in the din of all the cars whizzing past.
Nobody stopped.
A second later, Cordelia was slumped in the back of the limousine.
The man smirked and hit speed dial #1 in his cell phone
“Wolfram and Hart, how may I direct your call?”
~Part: 3~
"You're leaving? But... But... What about school and... Slaying! You can't do slaying in Sunnydale if you're not here."
Buffy stopped throwing things into her bag long enough to look up at her sister. "Dawn, listen - if it were up to me I wouldn't go-"
"But it IS up to you Buffy. You can't just leave! You just started getting your life back and..."
Sighing, Buffy shook her head, "This is Angel. I can't just leave him wherever he is. The girl that called? She sounded really worried, Dawn. If there's even a chance that I can help Angel, I have to."
Dawn frowned, "Right. I forgot. This is the work you have to do. Forget about your family." The frustrated teen stormed out of her sister's bedroom, leaving a just-as-frustrated Buffy standing behind, a bag in her hands.
She'd received the phone call that morning and worried herself sick for most of the school day. Both Cordelia and Angel had gone missing - months ago and Fred, the girl who'd called, had said that maybe they'd gone on vacation together but she really kind of doubted it since three months was a long time to wait for someone to come back or even call. Fred said that maybe they were dead but that she didn't want to admit that and that calling Buffy was like a last ditch attempt.
She'd babbled. A lot.
Buffy had worried. A lot.
Finally, when the Principal had found Buffy in the process of snapping every single pencil in her reach, he'd suggested a couple of days off to get whatever was bothering her out of her system.
At first, she'd hesitated, said that nothing was bothering her... Until Principal Wood had looked at the box of broken pencils on the table and quirked an eyebrow.
"Ms. Summers... As much as you're still the only parent... SISTER..." He amended off her look, "That's volunteering, our budget doesn't stretch as far as to cover that many pencils. Go. Sort it out. We can survive the couple of days you're gone."
Buffy looked at him, "You realise you just put a jinx on yourself by saying that?"
"Don't worry, everything will be-"
"You're just about to commit jinx number two! With my sister in this school!"
Principal Wood laughed and watched as Buffy picked up her coat, her eyes settling on his as she neared him at the door. "Thank you."
Now, Buffy stood alone in her room irritated at having encountered the wrath of her sister with a simple explanation. Shaking her head, Buffy placed the bag down on the bed and walked to Dawn's room, bracing herself for the argument that was sure to come.
"Xander said he'd stay with you," Offered Buffy gently, leaning against the doorframe of her sisters room, knowing full well that Dawn had once had a crush on her best friend. "And he promised me that parties would be to a minimum... That's not 'cause I don't trust you. It's just that Buffy-house-parties have never ended well..."
"So it's a good thing I'm NOT you. Besides, who am I gonna invite? My total of three friends from school? Wow, let's trash the house..." Said Dawn, rolling her eyes.
Buffy sighed, "I'm not doing this to spite you or... I'm not doing any of this other than the reason that it's Angel, that it's a guy I once loved and that..."
"And that once again, your 'work' turns into something that could lose you your job AND your family." Finished Dawn, "Save it. I've heard it."
Occasionally, Buffy was a little slow at catching on, but not today. Something in Dawn's tone of voice, even the way she was acting, told Buffy that there was something more to this. Something she hadn't quite pinpointed yet. "What is it?" She asked softly, sitting down on the end of her bed. "Really. What is it?"
"It's just," Dawn paused a moment, as if trying to think of the right way to word her answer without sounding like an idiot or worse, a spoiled brat. "It's just it seems like a pattern, you dropping everything to rush to Angel and I know I'm being stupid but... What if you two... Y'know?"
"That's something you really DON'T have to worry about." Said Buffy firmly, "Angel and I? In the past. Not looking to become repeato gal on past mistakes..."
"You're telling me you don't still love Angel?" Asked Dawn, sceptically.
"No," She replied, shaking her head. "I love Angel, I will always love Angel. But I'm not IN love with him now. It's... We've grown apart, Dawn. First loves tend to do that."
Thinking for a moment, Dawn looked up, "And I can really have a party?"
"A SMALL one." Said Buffy, firmly. "With Xander supervision..."
"Buffy!"
"Okay, well Xander calling up to check on you every hour to make sure the house is still standing. Deal?"
"Deal..." Said Dawn, softly as Buffy turned to leave. "Buffy?"
She turned back round to look at her sister, eyebrow quirked, "No beer. Beer bad..."
"No, I was just going to say... Whatever you find up there, just... Be careful... Okay?"
"Careful's my middle name. Buffy Careful Anne Summers..."
* * * * *
"Believe me," Said Lorne, trying to make himself heard over the din, "When I envisioned my ride back to LA? This wasn't it!"
Of course, when he'd thought about his trip back to LA - he saw lights, bright lights and fame and stardom and there was definitely a limo thrown in there for good measure.
Riding in the back of a pick up truck was NOT his idea of glamour and glitz. Especially not when you had chicken poop and other such anomalies trying to attach itself to your clothes.
"I-I still don't know why we're going to LA." Said Anna, gently. "My home is..."
"Not there." Lorne shook his head and placed his hand over hers. "Your home isn't even LA but to help you we have to help somebody else first..."
Why she'd trusted him, Anna didn't know. The eyes? Maybe... Something else? She wasn't sure.
Hope. Hope was a good reason, she had to believe that there was more to life than what she'd been living. Had to believe that her dream world, her nice and safe dream world was something that was real. How could something so vivid not be?
The pickup truck hit a particularly bumpy patch in the road and squealed unappreciatively. Lorne frowned, remembering Gunn's nice and particularly SAFE truck. Hadn't this guy even thought about something like that? Sure, lack of soul but... Not that many people actually had souls these days. It was a growing trend, he was sure...
"Why are you helping me?" Anna's voice was soft, her eyes open and guileless as she watched the green demon guy sigh.
"I wish my motives were completely innocent, but they're not. I would have helped you regardless, no doubt about that but... A friend of mine needs help and I saw that in you." Lorne paused a moment, glancing at Anna, "I'm not sure I believe what's happened to him but I have a feeling that once I get that sorted out the stuff I need to help you with might just fall into place. What's happened to him, I'm not quite sure I believe myself but I have a feeling that once I get that sorted, the stuff I need to help you with might just fall into place. Besides, I help people. The helpless. And back there in that bar you were looking pretty helpless to me..."
"So, you're helping me to help somebody else, but it's not just for yourself?" Why was that so important? Why was she so damned reluctant to believe that somebody would want to help her out of the goodness of their heart? Because those kind of people... They didn't exist. They were for dreamers and irrationalists who hadn't lived the life she had...
Which worked in theory except Anna didn't actually KNOW any kind of life except that in Vegas. She remembered nothing except the bustle of the Beer Lounge, Lorne's voice.
What kind of life was that?
What kind of life indeed? She thought
* * * * *
"The programme's been implemented. She remembers nothing?" Asked Linwood, glancing curtly at Lilah.
"Nothing, Sir." She smiled, "The demons arrived this morning at 9.20, took what information they could from her on the whereabouts of Angel and completed the ritual. Her soul is now in safe hands, she's ready for the next part of the project."
"And she's adapting well?"
"Exceedingly so," Said Lilah, "Her training sessions have been running into late afternoon and from what I could gather, she's already adapted some minor form of fighting skills and sword handling. Whether that's from her time with Angel, I'm not entirely certain."
Linwood nodded, placing the pen down on the desk and looking round the table at the board meeting he'd ordered held that afternoon. "Well, gentleman... And ladies," He said, extending a smile to Lilah. "Excellent work, it seems like Mr. Adams and Ms. Morgan are making quite the team on this new project of ours."
Applause rang throughout the room, Lilah and her new consort basking in the warm and certainly fuzzy feelings it brought.
For Lilah, this was as much about her job as it was pissing Wesley off. She knew he knew something she didn't. It would serve him right if that little bitch went after him once she'd been properly trained. In fact, thought Lilah as her brain worked overtime. I think I may just do that.
"Lilah?"
Her head snapped up, watching as Gavin smirked, "Sorry, Sir?"
"Angel? What of him?"
"Our sources inform us that they've located him but are experiencing some difficulties in getting him on dry land." Said Lilah, glancing at her notes, "It could be a while yet."
Linwood smiled, "Good. I want Angel to be there when the fireworks begin. That's all." With a wave of his hand, Linwood dismissed them, sitting tight until Lilah stood, the last one as always, to leave the room. "Lilah?"
She turned, clutching her briefcase and stared directly at Linwood. She could almost feel the nervousness wash over the man, the same nervousness she'd seen in clients and various other people that Lilah could intimidate. She battled to hold the triumphant smile that was tugging at the corners of her mouth and quirked an eyebrow, "Yes Sir?"
"I've been hearing some... Interesting things about you, Lilah. Your connections outside of the office?" Flinching slightly at the mention of her 'private' life, Lilah raised a hand and smoothed down her hair, a frown on her face. "I want you to know that whatever you do outside for the good of the company is much appreciated and that with someone like Mr. Wyndam-Pryce on our team, we could really benefit."
"I'm not-"
"Don't lie to me, Lilah," Said Linwood, "Not when you've only JUST managed to redeem yourself."
"Yes, Sir." Said Lilah, through gritted teeth, "Is that all?"
"That's all," He nodded. "Oh, and Lilah? Congratulations again." He smirked, watching as she walked away. Actually, she'd done more than redeem herself, but it didn't help to let employees think they were safe in the workplace. That would be against the Wolfram and Hart ethical code.
* * * * *
Remind me never to drive up here again, thought Buffy. She glanced nervously in her rear-view mirror as she circled the same block for what felt like the hundredth time.
"You can't miss it," Fred had informed her, "It's a great big hotel... 68 rooms, 66 vacancies when Angel's not here... I live in a room, Connor lives in one. Pretty big."
"Who's Connor?" Buffy asked, assuming it was just someone Angel had employed to help or... A friend maybe. It made her realise just how out of his life she was.
"Oh, he's... Um, he works here." She'd said, a little nervously.
Buffy had thought no more of it. She'd went and groveled to Xander for the use of his car, worried about Angel, then Cordelia and -- more importantly -- Dawn, who now seemed keen on Buffy going away.
And now... Well, it was getting dark and the 'unmissable' hotel was still nowhere in sight. Taking out her map again, Buffy looked down... Which was when she noticed. A coffee stain! Covering a street and... Growling in frustration, she slammed her fist down on the steering wheel, causing the car horn to beep LOUDLY and attract other beepers in turn.
Stupid Xander with his stupid map and... God, she was tired. And her neck was starting to crick. Pulling into the parking lot, Buffy removed the keys from the ignition and locked the car, following Xander's request to look after his 'baby' and to bring him back something tacky, like some Angel-dust, to which Buffy had thwacked him on the arm. He could at least have been nice!
The hotel was definitely big - and impressive. She couldn't believe Angel had swapped his last place for this! "Wow," She whistled, appreciatively, glancing upwards at the massive hotel. How could Angel even afford this? As far as she was aware, Angel wasn't rich the last time she'd been here... But then, she and Angel hadn't exactly been on the best of terms back then.
Buffy winced and took a deep breath, walking into the courtyard. Focus, Buffy. She reminded herself, Not here to dredge up the past. Well, unless Angel needs dredging from somewhere... That thought ended as briefly as it had begun, hurt zipping through her chest. What if Angel really was dead? They weren't in each others lives any more, fine. But... Angel dead? Even now the thought of that made it seem like someone was wrapping their fingers around her windpipe and squeezing until there was no oxygen left.
It hurt.
Shaking off the more than depressing thoughts, Buffy pushed open the door of the hotel, expecting to be greeted by the girl that had called. Instead, there was a guy, probably Dawn's age or a bit older.
"Hi-"
"Who are you?" Connor interrupted, arms folded across his chest, staring at the pretty woman on the stairs of the hotel. She didn't belong here, perhaps she was a client. "What do you want?"
"Connor!" Came the chastising voice, "Remember what we talked about? 'Hi, I'm Connor, we help the helpless, if that's you, then I'm here to help...' Remember?!" Asked Fred, a little frustrated. They'd been over this a billion times already.
Buffy turned and looked at the gang assembled in the lobby, "Hi, I'm-"
"Give it up, girl." Said Gunn with a chuckle, coming from behind the counter, "You ain't never gonna get him to say it the way you want him to. So, what time's the B-word getting here?"
"The B-word?" Buffy looked at Gunn, eyebrow raised. "Would that be me? Buffy? The B-Word!"
"Oh!" Fred ran up the stairs and smiled, "Hi... I didn't know you were you! Welcome to the hotel, I know it's not really under the nicest of circumstances but... Well, welcome anyway."
Buffy smiled her thanks and glanced at Connor and then Gunn, "Pretty impressive."
"Yeah," Gunn acknowledged, "And a bitch to run if you have no paying clients and have lost two of the most important members of your team."
"Money problems," Said Buffy nodding, "I got that pegged, believe me. So... You said that Angel just... Disappeared?" The look that passed across Connor's face caught Buffy's attention, he looked... Puzzled... And kind of annoyed, that she'd walked in on something she shouldn't have.
"Yup," Fred nodded, "One minute he and Cordelia are laughing on the phone and the next, poof. No either of them."
Wait a minute, laughing? About what? Thought Buffy, frowning slightly. "So, he just disappeared from the hotel?" Asked Buffy, coming further in to sit down at Fred's gesture to make herself comfortable.
"He went to meet Cordy," Said Gunn, "Never came back. Police found Cordy's car abandoned on the Freeway and Angel's, by Point Dume, where they were supposed to meet."
Buffy thought for a moment, running a hand tiredly through her hair, "And you've looked everywhere, right? Everywhere you can think of?"
"Of course we have." Connor snapped.
"Connor, be nice." Said Fred, softly.
"This is pointless." Connor frowned, "What can she do that we can't or haven't already? We've asked ourselves all the questions you're asking now. My father is GONE and this isn't helping matters any."
"The fact that she's here is helping," Said Gunn, "She's not connected, not biased. Gives her an edge over us."
If Buffy had moved past the 'Angel's a Daddy' comment, she might have been hurt by that. As it were, she was still stuck on the fact that... Two words that should NEVER be in the same sentence were.
Angel... Daddy.
Daddy... Angel.
Nope, not getting past THAT concept any time soon.
Buffy paled, "F-father? Wh-who... Huh?"
Guiltily, Fred looked at Buffy. "That would be the part I didn't want you to freak out about on the phone..."
"So, what? You leave it for me to freak out about NOW?! How can Angel have a son? He's a vampi-"
Oh God... A thought flashed through Buffy's head. Spike! Sex with Spike! What if she was of the pregnant kind now? What the hell would she do? She could barely afford to feed her and Dawn never mind her, Dawn, and a defenceless, tiny, hungry baby! And Spike as a father? What was he going to teach it, the art of cigarette smoking and frustration and not being the 'Big Bad' anymore?
"Oo-kay..." Said Buffy, now close to hyperventilating, "I need an explanation, NOW."
"Get in line, sweet-cheeks." Came a voice from the door, "Right now, it seems we're all looking for answers."
Glancing up, Buffy frowned. Who the hell was that guy? And why was he covered in what looked like chicken poop?
"Oh, don't mind me," He smiled, "And I assure you, the outfit is entirely authentic. Right down to the chicken droppings. What I wouldn't give for a seabreeze right now..." Turning, he looked at Fred, Gunn and Connor. "Well, aren't we in for quite the little-"
"Oh my God - TARA?!"
The demon guy had moved out the way and right behind him, right behind that demon guy... Tara. Very dead Tara. Very alive and startled Tara standing in front of her.
Buffy pinched Anna's arm, once, twice - three times, until her yelp rang through the lobby. "That hurt!"
"You're you!" Said Buffy, incredulously.
Lorne looked at Anna, the surprise palpable on her face - and though he couldn't read her properly, her aura was flashing like a neon-sign on Broadway (and he would know) whoever this girl was, 'Anna' had met her before, in her dream world.
"Y-you know me?" Whispered Anna, softly, looking up at Lorne, almost for reassurance. "You know w-who I am?"
Buffy stepped forward and nodded, dumbfounded, "Of course I do, I... You're Tara. Your name is Tara McClay, you used to live in Sunnydale but... But... You died."
She told herself repeatedly that standing in front of her, it couldn't be Tara. It wasn't physically possible but then - hello, brought back from the dead!
"You don't remember anything?"
Before the girl could answer, Lorne cut in. "Found her wandering, down in Vegas. She's the girl you know but... She doesn't know it yet. Her soul's been jumbled with about a thousand other lost ones, all searching for some place to come out. It did. In her dreams. She dreamt you, but didn't believe it was true. Then, she sang..."
Not understanding what singing had to do with it and really not caring at that point, Buffy grabbed Anna and wrapped her arms around her, "Oh God, Willow... She'll be... And Dawnie! Tara, you're home!"
They hugged until both girls thought they would burst, Anna, because this beautiful, strong and kind girl in front of her, the girl from her dreams was real and she was terrified that if she let her go even for a second, she'd lose that. And Buffy because... Well because Tara was back! And she didn't know how but it was wonderful.
It was about then, that the temperature in the hotel dropped several degrees. Buffy turned to the sound of the hotel door opening, and a very disheveled Wesley stood at the top of the steps. Unshaven, he looked nothing like the whiny, spineless Watcher Buffy remembered.
"I thought you'd like to know," He intoned coldly. "Wolfram and Hart have located Angel, down at the docks. If you hurry, I'm sure you can catch them before they do their worst." And as quickly as he'd appeared, Wesley was gone.
Looking up at Gunn and Fred, Buffy frowned, "I REALLY missed a lot, huh?"
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