**************************************
E.B. White once said "One of the most time consuming things is to have an enemy", which is true. Enemies keep a person wondering what they're gonna do next and if their enemies will be stopped in time. Often, enemies can lead you to new friends...
**************************************

~Part One~

Slouching in his chair, Darien Fawkes stretched his long legs out before him as he laced his fingers over his abdomen. His partner, Bobby Hobbes, was sitting next to him, his posture slightly relaxed but still appearing to be almost at attention.  Claire, the Keeper, was casually perched in her chair on the other side of Darien with her hands folded neatly in her lap, while Eberts stood in his usual position next to the Official. It had started out like any other Friday morning, but when Claire had followed him and Hobbes up from her lab in the basement of the Agency, Darien had a sneaking suspicion that he was going to have to postpone his plans for a monster movie marathon for another weekend.

"Gentlemen, your next assignment is in Los Angeles," announced the Official, a smug grin on his face as Eberts handed each of them a manila folder. "Due to the nature and distance of your assignment, the Keeper is going with you to handle the counteragent."

"Sir, why are we going to Los Angeles?" inquired Hobbes, glancing at the folder in his hands.

The smug smile grew slightly. "It appears that our old friends at Chrysalis have taken an unhealthy interest in a small-time detective agency called Angel Investigations. Your job is to see what makes them so interesting," the large man stated in a calm voice. For all the emotion he showed, the Official could have been talking about the weather instead of a group that threatened the stability and peace of the United States, and had come after Darien more than once. The Official nodded at Eberts who cleared his throat and picked up a folder similar to what the others held in their hands.

"Angel Investigations was founded in July of 1999 after Angel O'Shea moved to Los Angeles and purchased both an apartment and an office," began the plain man, reading from his folder. "He was joined by Francis Doyle, now deceased, and Cordelia Chase, a native of Sunnydale which was also Mr. O'Shea's last known address. Since then, they have been joined by two more employees, Charles Gunn, a Los Angeles native, and Wesley Wyndham-Pryce, an Englishman who also came to Los Angeles through Sunnydale. They often deal with cases of a supernatural nature, and if a person is in trouble but can't afford their bill, Mr. O'Shea will waive the agency's fee. When their office building was blown up, Mr. O'Shea purchased the Hyperion Hotel and has furnished it as an office for Angel Investigations and an apartment for himself."

"Wait a minute," interrupted Darien, staring at Eberts in disbelief. "Are you telling me that this guy is rich enough to buy an old hotel and yet he's still working?" When Eberts nodded, the lanky man frowned. "Where did his money come from? I mean, this Angel has to be at least as rich as our pal Stark, if not more so, to buy the Hyperion and not declare bankruptcy. The hotel alone takes up nearly a block; and to be able to refurnish it to make it hospitable, you're talking some healthy money."

Eberts consulted his notes briefly. "It appears that Mr. O'Shea inherited a sizable fortune from his family as well as valuable antiques and a prosperous stock portfolio," he reported.

"Anything else we should know about these characters?" inquired Hobbes, addressing the Official directly.

"Only that they seem to operate mostly after sundown," remarked the Official before turning to shuffle some papers on his desk, effectively ending the meeting and dismissing the agents. Exchanging amused glances, Darien and Hobbes stood up and left the office with Claire right behind them.

Claire glanced at her watch before looking at the two men. "Give me an hour to pack the counteragent and a bag," she requested, turning to head for the elevators and her lab in the basement. "I'll meet you back here so we can leave in that van of yours, Hobbes."

When she vanished behind the metal doors, Darien turned to Hobbes with a grin on his face. "You notice she never mentioned Pavlov in that little explanation," the lanky man mused, his voice full of mock-innocence that didn't quite match the mischievous twinkle in his dark eyes.

A chuckle escaped from Hobbes. "I think she just pawns the pooch off on the neighbors when she goes with us," came the remark. "Like when people go on vacation." He shrugs as if the problem is of no concern to him, and glances at his watch before looking at the ex-thief. "You should head back to your place to pack and I'll swing by and pick you up on my way back here for Keep."

With a nod and a wave, Darien easily makes his way back out into the warm October sunlight. Casually, he slips his dark glasses on as he folds his lanky form behind the wheel of his used car, and a slight grin crosses his face as the engine easily starts. Still wearing the grin, he steers the black car down the slightly crowded San Diego streets on his way back to his apartment. The wind was ruffling his spiky hair through the open window. He still found it hard to believe that it was only a few days from Halloween because the trees were still green and the weather warm enough for short sleeves. He could remember, as a child, hiding in a pile of leaves and then jumping out at his brother, Kevin, when he walked by with his nose buried in one scientific book or another. The year before Darien was convicted with his third strike, he had gone with Liz to a costume party at a club in Seattle. After hearing about his brother's obsession with "The Invisible Man", she somehow managed to convince Darien to dress as the lead character while she had donned a slinky Catwoman costume.

He chuckled at the memory. <Kinda ironic how things turned out. I'm still the Invisible Man and she's still a thief,> he mused, a touch of bitterness in his thoughts, as he maneuvered the car into the parking lot near his apartment building. Locking his car, he easily scaled the stairs to his apartment and dug in his closet for a duffel bag. Tossing it onto his bed, he proceeded to stuff it full of enough clothes to last him a week. When he came across a black bag shoved into the farthest corner of his closet.

Frowning, he pulled it out and unzipped it to reveal black clothing and a coil of rope resting on top. It was his bag of burglar tools that he hadn't used since Liz was last in town. They had used her gear when they were breaking into the Feds' building, but he still had his. Hesitating for just a second, Darien closed the bag and tossed it on the bed next to his other bag. A few more minutes, and he was packed for however long he was stuck in Los Angeles; and ready to try and avoid falling into Chrysalis's hands while digging up the dirt on this detective agency. He shrugged as he scooped up both bags and deposited them next to the apartment door. Maybe he'd be luckier this time than he had been in the past, and actually be able to get into a place, get what he was after, and get out again without getting caught.

<I can hope at least,> he thought, as he stocked up Darien the rat with extra food and water for the duration of the assignment. Shaking his head, the lanky man grabbed his bags and descended to the street just as the battered agency van pulled up to the curb. He had a feeling that it was going to be a long assignment.

*******************************************

The door to the Magic Box opened and Spike waltzed in as if he owned the place. His duster floated around him; earning glares from Buffy, Xander and Giles and a timid glance from Willow. Anya only rolled her eyes at the bleached vampire's actions and went back to counting money. He strolled over to the table and threw himself into a chair across from Willow who blushed an even deeper red when he winked at her.

"So what do you need the Big Bad for?" he drawled, leaning back to put his boots up on the table. "Finally decided to let me end your miserable lives?"

Buffy snorted and folded her arms across her chest. "In your dreams, Fangless," she retorted before turning to Giles. "Is it really necessary to send him?"

"I'm afraid so," apologized the Watcher, removing his glasses to absently polish them. "He can protect Willow, and he also has a reason for wanting to leave Sunnydale right now." Spike tried not to wince at the memory of the Initiative commandos that had practically taken over the night, forcing all of the smart demons to run from the Hellmouth. Those that weren't as smart or not as cunning found themselves in a sterile white cell where various scientists experimented on them before they died. There was no way he was going to let those tossers capture him again, chip or no bloody chip. Shoving those thoughts aside, he focused on the conversation that was going on. Apparently, they needed him to protect the redhead when she went somewhere, but that was all he had managed to get from the conversation.

"Pet, what do you need me for?" The soft question was directed at Willow while Buffy and Giles continued arguing about the necessity of sending Spike with the witch.

Startled green eyes flew to meet glittering blue. "I need to go to LA to get a book from Angel," she confessed in a soft voice. "It's too old for him to mail it to us, and apparently it has information in it about some demon that's rumored to be heading here to open the Hellmouth."

Spike leaned back in his chair and fixed her with a serious look. "And this has nothing to do with the rumor that Angelus is on his way back thanks to some law firm." Willow looked at him with fear evident on her face. He sighed, "Apparently, you hadn't heard that one."

"Then I have to go to LA immediately," she whispered, her words carrying to the vampire. She gazed at him, seriously. "I found a spell to permanently anchor his soul." Her calm announcement floored him and he looked at her in shock. A spell to permanently anchor the Poof's soul, and make sure that Angelus never terrorized the Earth again? But did he really want to participate in that decision- never to have his sire again?

<He was hardly decent to you the last time he was here,> whispered his demon, drawing forth the memories of abuse he had suffered at the hands, and mouth, of Angelus when the wanker had lost his soul. <He didn't have the balance that he had before he was cursed.> Spike could definitely agree with that observation, and had to wonder if the soul had somehow driven the demon crazy. The Angelus that he had known in the last century never would have tried to suck the world into Hell where he would just be a small lackey with no real power. No, being feared and having that control over others was too important to the Angelus that had taught William the finer points of being a vampire.

"When can you leave?" inquired Spike, watching her as he came to a decision. He definitely didn't need the crazed version of Angelus back, especially since he was unable to feed from humans. If he thought what had happened when he had been stuck in a wheelchair was bad, he didn't want to imagine what he would be put through because of the chip. Willow glanced at him and smiled as she stood up.

"How soon can you be ready?" she asked, slinging her purse over her shoulder as she scooped up a book off the table.

A cocky grin crossed his face as he gracefully rose to his feet. "Got my smokes, my coat, an' my cash," he announced. "What more do I need?"

His answer coaxed a giggle from Willow before she glanced at the still arguing Watcher and Slayer. "We're leaving now," she announced, only to shake her head, as no one seemed to hear her. Sighing, she grabbed a piece of scrap paper and scribbled a quick note before snagging Spike's arm on her way out the door. "Let's go before something happens." Spike laughed and followed her out of the store.

A comfortable silence surrounded them that lasted until they were on their way to Los Angeles in Willow's car. Finally, the hacker was unable to ignore the question that was scampering through her mind like a crazed animal. "Spike, why are you so anxious for Angel's soul to become permanent?" The question startled the blond vampire out of his thoughts and he turned crystal blue eyes on her in puzzlement. "I mean, it doesn't seem like you two can even stand each other and yet, you're willing to let me permanently secure his soul and prevent Angelus from ever re-emerging."

A soft sigh slipped from pale lips as Spike returned his attention to the front windshield. "The Angelus that terrorized you and your mates wasn't the Angelus that I knew," he confessed his voice emotionless. "True, the stalking and killing was Angelus, but he did things that he never would have done before the soul. Like trying to suck the world into Hell." <Or leaving me stuck in a wheelchair for nearly six months> he added silently. "I think that somehow the soul or the curse warped his demon."

"You too?" Willow asked.

Spike's head whipped around so fast to stare at her that he would have suffered from whiplash if he weren't already dead. Willow nodded in agreement. "I read all of the Diaries that talked about Angelus," she said, "and I couldn't understand why he was so anxious to awaken that Alcatha just because Buffy kept defeating him. Everything I read made him appear to be the ultimate Alpha male; not wanting to submit to anyone or anything no matter how strong it was." Willow gestured with one hand while she steered the car with the other. "Surely he knew that sucking the world into Hell would drop him down to one of the lowest people on the totem pole instead of being one of the most feared vampires on Earth."

The peroxide blond vampire continued to stare at her as her words echoed through his mind. He knew she was the smart one of the group, but this was a level that he had never expected from her, and it surprised him. He had come to the same conclusion after living with Angelus for nearly a decade, about the same time he had adopted the nickname "Spike", and here she had picked it up from reading the Watcher's Diaries. "Yeah, but with your little spell, that wanker will be gone for good," he replied with false cheerfulness.

Willow sighed. "There's a slight danger," she warned, nervously biting her lower lip. "If the spell is interrupted for any reason at all, then he'll be Angelus forever and no amount of cursing will return his soul to him."

"Then we make sure that noting disrupts the spell, pet," announced Spike, his voice firm. He stared out of the front windshield as silence once more descended on them, and tried to ignore the feeling of dread that threatened to envelope him.
 

~Part Two~

A few hours later, Willow pulled her car into the covered garage attached to the Hyperion Hotel, and stifled a yawn as she followed Spike through the door that lead into the spacious lobby. She heard him mutter something about the lack of security, but didn't pay attention to him as she sank onto one of the plush lounges that were scattered around the lobby. From the lack of threats directed at Spike and friendly greetings for her, she figured that Angel and his employees were out on a case.

<Hope everyone's all right,> she mused, shaking off the drowsy feeling that was trying to envelope her. It was only going on eight pm, but for some reason, it felt much later to her. <Gotta be the driving. Long trips always make me tired.> She could see little signs that stated that Angel Investigations wasn't all divorce cases and missing children: a large case displaying a variety of axes, swords, and daggers, an old book resting on the counter with gold letters spelling out something in Latin, and a couple of sharpened stakes resting in a pencil holder.

Spike tromped back into the lobby holding a mug in his hand and grumbling under his nonexistent breath about "friggin' cow blood" as he flopped onto the lounge next to her. "So now what do we do?"

Willow shrugged. "Wait until they come back from wherever they went," she replied. "Not much else we can do until then." She fiddled nervously with the hem of her shirt as her eyes danced around the lobby again as if just by searching for Angel or Cordelia, they would appear out of the shadows. Since the other girl began working for Angel, Willow and Cordelia had started exchanging e-mails. First, they had been about business, asking questions such as "Do you know a spell for..." or "Is there anything about a demon in Gile's books that...". However, Cordelia being the Gossip Queen she is, began asking about the rest of the gang in Sunnydale as she provided information on what was going on with Angel and the others working with her.

Of coarse, one of the secrets that Cordelia had been able to coax out of Willow was the other girl's crush on Spike. After the mess with Oz and the female werewolf, Willow was wary about getting involved with anyone else and setting herself up for another broken heart. Not like it was possible for Spike to have feelings for her. She was just Willow who was friends with the Slayer and whose spells only worked half the time. Shaking her head at the direction her thoughts were going, Willow stood up and wandered over to the weapon's case to examine the various blades displayed behind the glass.

Before the silence in the lobby could smother Willow under its weight, a familiar voice drifted in from outside. The redhead spun around to face the front doors just as Angel and Cordelia entered the lobby followed by Wesley and an unfamiliar man that Willow assumed was the Charles Gunn Cordelia had told her about. All were covered in a smelly purple goo that clung to their clothes and weapons, and Cordelia continued her chatter, completely ignoring anyone else in the lobby.

"..I can't believe those demons. Why do they always have to explode into purple slime when they're killed? Can't they just quietly fall down and die without the messy explosions?" the brunette girl said, glaring down at her goo-splattered clothes. "At least I don't have any auditions tomorrow 'cause it's gonna take me at least a week to get this stench off of my skin."

"Try a little aloe, luv," remarked Spike, watching the quartet of demon-fighters suddenly freeze. "Groquag demons are smelly buggars, but aloe will take the smell right out."

Angel glared at the younger vampire calmly sitting in the lobby. "Spike, why are you here?" he demanded, his voice bordering on a growl.

"He's here with me, Angel," Willow stated, drawing their attention away from Spike. She grinned slightly and resisted giggling as a clump of purple gunk slid from Angel's dark hair to land with a "plop" on his shoulder. "Why don't we talk after you guys have cleaned up."

Once everyone had a chance to use Angel's shower and change into clean clothes, they converged on the lobby and settled themselves onto the various lounges. Formal introductions were made and Angel folded his arm across his chest as he regarded Willow, curiously.

"So what brings you to LA?" the dark vampire inquired.

The red head frowned at him. "There's this demon that is suppose to be heading for Sunnydale and Giles knew you had a book about it but it was too fragile to be shipped and Spike came along to make sure I got back to Sunnydale in one piece until he told me about a rumor he heard that Angelus might be breaking free which forced me to come tonight because I found a spell that can secure your soul permanently, but it's risky and I'm rambling again, aren't I?" A faint blush stained her cheeks as everyone stared at her in confusion when Spike suddenly growled.

"Here's the deal," he announced, stretching his arms along the back of the lounge and laying his one hand on Willow's shoulder. "There's an idiotic demon that is rumored to be on its merry way to Sunnyhell. The Watcher knows that Peaches has a book about the demon, but that it's too fragile to be mailed. So, he decided that Red here would be the best one to get it. I was sent along to keep her safe, especially since I heard a rumor along the demon underground that Angelus was on his way back." A flicker of pain crossed Angel's face before the brooding mask returned, but Spike continued. "Also, Red 'ere has found a way to keep you broody for the rest of yer bloody unlife."

Every eye turned to regard the fidgeting redhead and Willow twisted the hem of her shirt. "Is it true, Willow?" Angel's voice was barely louder than a whisper, and she looked up to meet hopeful chocolate eyes. "Can you secure my soul permanently?"

"Yes, but the spell is risky," she warned, her manner serious. "It basically melds the demon and the soul into one entity that is perfectly balanced between the two. You won't be consumed by your guilt, but you're not gonna be going out and turning LA into a buffet. Any disruption of the spell once it's begun will make sure that the demon has complete control. Your soul won't go vanishing again, but it will be smothered by the demon and no amount of cursing will be able to return it to control."

Silence descended on the lobby as everyone absorbed what Willow was saying with mixed feelings. Finally, Cordelia stood up and regarded both Angel and Willow with a level gaze.

"Okay, first off, since it appears that I'm the only one willing to voice their thoughts about this, Willow, other than Angel going all grr for good, is there any risk to you with the casting of this spell?" the brunette stated, her voice leaving no room for deception. Willow shook her head, and the seer nodded once. "Okay, Angel. Now that it is known that this won't hurt Willow in any way, are you willing to take the risk and have your soul permanently secured?"

All eyes swiveled to rest on the vampire and he sighed. "Yes, but what if something happens to disturb the spell?" he asked, closing his eyes wearily. "The last thing I want to do is hurt any of you, again, because Angelus got free."

Cordelia nodded again. "Then before the spell is started, we put you in a circle that you can't get out of so if Angelus DOES break free for any reason, he's not going anywhere," she decided. "Then, while Willow is doing the spell, the rest of us makes sure nothing and no one disturbs the ritual." She glanced at the witch. "Will that work?"

Willow frowned as she thought over what the spell required. Both her and Angel would have to stand in one circle since she was the caster, and it would be her melding the demon and the soul, but another circle shouldn't disturb the spell any. "That should be fine. I don't think it will do anything to the spell, but that means that I'm going to have to pick up a few extra ingredients before I can do it."

"Great!" exclaimed Cordelia with a large smile. "There's a magic store right down the block that we use all the time. You can get your ingredients, cast the spell and make sure that fashion reject never terrorizes us again." She spread her hands. "What could possibly go wrong?"

*****************************************

Groaning, Darien dropped his bags on the floor and fell back onto the bed. What had started out as a simple drive from San Diego to Los Angeles soon became anything but. First a major accident occurred just as the van got onto the freeway, bringing traffic to a halt as everyone waited for the emergency vehicles to clear the three car pile-up out of the way. Then, when they stopped for lunch, somehow Hobbes managed to locate the slowest restaurant possible with servers who took hours to bring them their drinks.

< I swear the cook must have raised the cow for my burger while we were waiting, > decided Darien, rubbing his face tiredly. When they finally managed to get into Los Angeles, it took them another hour to locate a hotel near the Hyperion, and another fifteen minutes of talking to the manager to get two adjoining rooms. Right now, all Darien wanted to do was dive face first into the pillows on his bed and not come up until sunrise, but Hobbes had other ideas.

"C'mon, partner, we got a job to do," announced the shorter agent, checking his ammo before holstering his gun and letting his suit jacket fall over the weapon once more. "The fat man ain't paying us to lounge around a hotel room while Chrysalis is making everyone's lives miserable."

"And the sooner we get this done, the sooner I can get back to that monster movie marathon I promised myself," the ex-thief remarked, trying to convince himself that he had to get moving.

A brief rap on the door heralded Claire's entry and she regarded the still prone form stretched out on the bed. "Aren't we starting the investigation tonight or did the two of you decide to take the night off?" she inquired with one eyebrow gracefully arched.

"No, we're starting tonight," grunted Darien as he pushed himself to his feet. He gestured towards the door with a grin. "After you." Claire sighed and left the room with Hobbes and Darien right behind her.

As they stepped out of the hotel, a cool wind rushed through the buildings to greet them and Darien pulled his jacket closer with a shiver. He had been expecting it to be cooler here than in San Diego but now he was beginning to wonder if a patch of cold air had blanketed the city, making his faded denim jacket seem woefully inadequate for keeping him warm. Several people hurried past the odd trio on their way to someplace out of the chilly air, and Darien fastened the copper buttons up to his throat as he glanced around.

"So now what?" he asked in a soft voice.

Hobbes shrugged as he turned down the street towards the Hyperion. "Simple, you do your stuff, get in and look around while Claire and I watch your back from the street," he stated in a no nonsense tone that Darien was becoming all too familiar with.

"I've got some counteragent in my bag so you should be all right, but don't take unnecessary chances in there," warned the blond, brushing her wind blown hair out of her face. "I only brought so much with me and there is no telling how long this job is going to be." Her cool blue gaze focused on Darien's warm brown one, trying to convey the importance of her warning. But with the threat of turning into a red-eyed monster hanging over his head, he was hardly going to fool around on that deadly precipice without the safety of the calming blue liquid that was his key to sanity. Nodding in agreement, he followed Hobbes down the street, desperately trying to shove all thoughts of quicksilver madness from his mind.

Turning the corner, Darien suddenly found himself standing before the sprawling structure of the Hyperion, stretched across the block like a content cat. Only the lobby was lit with a golden light, offering a false comfort to push back the night. Despite the little bit of light that escaped into the street, the shadows seemed to live in the darkness that clung to the old building like a cloak against the day. Darien nervously ran his hand though his spikey hair and glanced around the deserted street. The asphalt path that dared to caress the Hyperion was devoid of all life, as if nothing living was allowed near the dark structure.

"Well, let's get this over with," muttered the lanky man, glancing at his companions before starting across the street. Hobbes and Claire followed him as far as the sidewalk running before the grand old hotel, allowing them to be close enough if Darien needed them for any reason yet far enough away that they wouldn't attract unwanted attention. Tossing his companions a smile that didn't reach his eyes, Darien turned to face the front of the Hyperion and the warm light beckoning him from the lobby when a group of nearly a dozen young men seemed to appear out of the darkness itself.

At first glance, they appeared to be just a group of friends out for a night on the town, maybe college students looking for a bar, but there was something about the way they moved that screamed "predator" to everyone around them. Dim light flickered off of glowing golden eyes and there were occasional glimpses of sharp teeth. Finally the group drew close enough for Darien to make out the ridges that distorted each face, and he tried to swallow past his heart, which had decided to migrate to his throat.

"Hey boys, lookie here," announced one of the men, catching sight of the trio. "We got ourselves a bit to eat before the fight." A snicker rippled through them as the group spread out, trying to shove the three agents against the unyielding brick wall.

Suddenly, a chill raced down Darien's spine that had nothing to do with the weather or the threatening group approaching him. < NO! Not now! > he silently screamed as the quicksilver flowed over him to render him invisible. Acting instinctively, he reached out to latch onto Claire's arm and sent the sheath of cool silver over her body. He knew quicksilvering them both would cut his time in half, but if one of them could get into the lobby and maybe find help, it would be worth it.

"Run, kid, I'll hold these freaks off!" shouted Hobbes, drawing his gun and aiming it at the closest figure. Needing no further encouragement, Darien tugged on Claire's arm and the invisible couple dodged outstretched arms as they ran for the safety of the lobby. Behind him, Darien could hear Hobbes shouting for the things to stop, but refused to look back.

He was so focused on reaching the lobby that the tall man never saw the loose rock in his path until his foot had already come down on it. With a startled cry, Darien's foot shout out from under him and he lost his grip on Claire as he tumbled to the ground.

"Darien!" cried Claire, unmoving from his side.

He glared up at her glowing form enveloped in quicksilver. "Go Claire, before it flakes off!" he barked even as he climbed to his feet. A twinge arced across the back of his skull, warning him that he was dangerously close to his limit. Ignoring the pain, Darien started forwards again just as one of the things appeared out of the darkness and started towards Claire who had lost her protective coating of quicksilver. Shouting, he launched himself at the twisted man like a bull determined to trample the matador, and he distracted the man long enough for Claire to slip through the doors of the lobby.

"That was a foolish move," hissed the man, his lips pulled back to reveal jagged teeth.  Before Darien could reply, the man had grabbed his jacket ahd heaved him towards the brick wall. Darien's last thought before his head collided with the side of the Hyperion, sending him into unconsciousness, was < Oh, crap. >
 

~Part Three~

The first sign that something was wrong was the shouting that slipped past the doors into the lobby, and the second was the wide-eyed blond woman who burst through those same doors a few seconds later as if Satan himself was chasing her. By that time, Angel had already grabbed his sword and was heading outside with a well armed Gunn, Wesley, and Cordelia as Spike and Willow followed curious, hoping to help if they could.

"Fangs...glowing eyes...my friends," gasped the blond as she tried to catch her breath. There was a metallic shimmer in her hair and a little caught in the folds of her clothes, as if she had walked in out of a misting rain.

"Willow, stay here with her," ordered Angel, not bothering to glance back at the others as he made his way past the blond. A metallic smell teased his nose, like damp iron but he ignored it for now. "Cordy, get the first aid kit ready." Before either could voice their objections at being left behind, he was out the  door and already moving towards the vampire standing over the crumpled figure laying on the ground. The vampire, obviously a fledgling not even a month old, seemed unwilling to draw any closer to the form on the ground, but the bloodlust that controlled him was not
about to let a potential meal alone. Without even hesitating, the heavy sword swung out and cleanly removed the fledgling's head from the rest of his body seconds before it dissolved into dust.

He knelt next to the unconscious form long enough to discover that the man was going to live, despite the strange silver dust that lay scattered on his clothing and the ground and the strong metallic scent that hovered over him like a blanket. He ordered Wesley to guard the unconscious man as the dark vampire headed towards the sounds of a fight just around the corner. There, he found about eight more fledglings surrounding a stocky man who was somehow holding his own, and Spike snorted in disgust.

"Fledges, every one of 'em," growled the peroxide blond before glancing up at Angel. "Want me to handle this, Peaches?"

A smirk crossed Angel's face. "Actually, I thought we'd teach them some manners first," he remarked, sounding like his demonic counterpart.

Spike nodded once before moving forward. "All right, enough of that!" he growled, allowing the power that marked him as a Master vampire to emerge. The vampires froze at the sound of his voice and turned to face him, their true faces visible. Angel also let his own powers to emerge, alerting the fledges that they had two Masters to face instead of just one.

"Who are you and what do you want here?" demanded one of the vampires, stepping away from the short man they had trapped against the building.

Sighing dramatically, Spike rolled his eyes and glanced back at Angel. "Youth today has no respect for their elders," he stated before a vicious grin crossed his face. "The name's Spike, an' what I want is to know why you're huntin' in Angelus's territory without his permission."

The fledges exchanged confused looks, and Angel's smirk grew. "Spike, m'boy, find out which of these idiots is the leader and dust the rest," he ordered, casually resting the sword tip on the ground.

"Right." Spike fixed cool blue eyes on the group. "Which of you blokes is the leader?" One vampire with a scar running down the side of his face stepped forward, and the peroxide blond nodded as he approached the fledgling. Casually, he decked the scarred vampire and after grabbing him by the scruff of the neck, returned to Angel's side.

With the same casual indifference that Spike displayed, the dark vampire waded through the cluster of vampires and grabbed the human's arm before removing him from the vampires. He nodded once at Gunn who began firing arrows at the vampires. In a few minutes, all the vampires were one large pile of dust on the sidewalk, and Angel turned to inspect the man. He was short, but stocky and other than a slightly rumpled suit, didn't look like he was involved in the confrontation at all.

"Are you all right?" inquired Angel, unable to spot any injuries.

The man nodded. "I'm fine, but my partner ran that away," he replied, gesturing towards the lobby. "I gotta make sure he's okay." He started towards the lobby, not bothering to see if any one else was following him or not and Angel fell in beside him. When Wesley came within sight, he heard the man's heartbeat speed up and realized that he was staring at the still form beside the ex-Watcher.

"Damn!" The man raced to the unconscious man's side and knelt down next to him, gently turning him over. The silver dust shimmered as it fell from the man's hair and clothes. "Darien, you okay?"

Angel knelt next to the two and handed his sword to Wesley before scooping up Darien, cradling the lanky man in his arms. "Let's get inside where he can be examined," suggested the dark vampire before glancing back at the peroxide blond vampire. "Spike, bring our guest with you."

Suddenly the stocky man was standing in front of Angel with a determined look on his face. "Why should I trust you?" he demanded, his eyes flickering around to include everyone in his accusation. "How do I know you're not in with whatever those things were?"

"They were vampires, pet," drawled Spike, carrying the unconscious fledgling over his shoulder. He jerked his head in Angel's direction. "An' even the Great Poof himself wouldn't go around and arrange for fledges this stupid ta attack anyone near his place." He brushed past the man and continued on into the hotel, leaving a puzzled Angel facing the man.

"We only want to help you and your partner," the dark vampire stated in a soothing voice. "Right now the best thing for him is to get inside where any injuries other than the bump on his head can be discovered." As he talked, he noticed that the metallic scent surrounding Darien was growing stronger as if he was slowly turning into iron. He slipped around the stocky man and entered the lobby to find the blond woman waiting anxiously.

As soon as he had placed the lanky man on one of the lounges, she was next to him, perched on the small cushion available as she checked the man for any injuries. She transformed from a concerned friend to a professional in the space of a few steps and Angel stood behind the lounge, silently watching her work. The metallic smell was so strong now, he was sure it had to be noticed by the humans, but the woman didn't say anything about it, just continued checking him for injuries other than the bump on his head. When she went to check his eyes, Angel caught a glimpse of solid red before she grabbed the limp arm, flipping his watchband down to reveal a nearly red tattoo of a snake eating it's own tail.

"Damn it, Darien," she swore before glancing around. "Hobbes, I need my bag, now!"

The stocky man grabbed her purse where it had been dropped near the door during her wild entrance and brought it over to her. "What's wrong, Claire?" he demanded, his voice strained with concern. He caught sight of the tattoo as she filled a syringe with a strange blue liquid and swore, colorfully.

<What is it about that tattoo that caused that kind of a reaction? > mused Angel, a frown crossing his face as he stared down at Darien. A line of pain creased the handsome face almost as if he was silently fighting something in his sleep, and as Claire injected the blue liquid into his system, his face relaxed as if whatever caused him agony had ceased. Quickly, Angel glanced at the woman to find her gazing at a now green tattoo. <What?>

"Oi, Peaches." Spike's voice cut through his silent musings and he looked up to find the peroxide blond resting a booted foot on the fledgling's throat. He had dumped the younger vampire on the floor, and was now standing there with an indifferent look on his face. "Yer guest is about to wake up."

He walked over to the fledgling and Spike moved back, removing his foot from the younger vampire's neck to allow Angel room to lean down and wrap his hand around the pale neck. The vampire was starting to stir when Angel lifted him off the floor to hang from his grip with the toes of his scuffed tennis shoes swaying almost a foot above the floor.

"What were you sent to do here?" demanded the dark vampire, tightening his grip slightly as startled gold eyes snapped open to stare into a determined brown gaze. "Who sent you?"

"W..we were told to come here and kill the humans," stuttered the vampire, his pale complexion turning an interesting gray as a deep growl rumbled through the air. A hand landed on Angel's shoulder and he whipped his head around to stare into Spike's unflinching gaze.

"He can hardly answer our questions if he's dust, pet," soothed the bleached blond, and with a start, Angel realized that he was nearly crushing the
vampire's throat. He relaxed his grip and instinct drove the vampire to gasp for unneeded breath. Spike turned his attention to the unfortunate vampire. "Who sent you?"

The vampire shrugged, carelessly. "Some guy claiming to be from some group called Wolfman and Hart," he replied, confidant that he'd get out of this confrontation with his skin intact.

"Wolfram and Hart?" There was a deadly growl in Angel's voice again, but the vampire hanging from his grip didn't notice it as he nodded enthusiastically. Snarling, Angel nonchalantly snapped the vampire's neck in a smooth motion before dropping the body on the floor. In seconds, a pile of dust was on the floor and Angel managed to reign in his temper before turning to face the strangers in his lobby.

"So, how much of a coincidence is it that you three arrived here just as a group of fledgling vampires also arrived to cause trouble?" inquired Angel,
folding his arms across his chest. The woman, Claire, and the stocky man, Hobbes, exchanged glances across Darien's unmoving form that seemed to be a silent communications between them, but other than a slight wariness in their gazes, Angel couldn't read much of anything. Claire's hand lightly brushed across the unconscious man's forehead, moving a lock of brown hair off the smooth skin and a wave of jealousy surged through the dark vampire.

< Wait a minute, > he thought, confused. < Why am I jealous? I don't even know them. > Just then, his demon began bombarding him with images of the last time a warm male had been in his bed; a dark haired man with piercing blue eyes who was able to love as fiercely as the vampire before Angelus had changed him forever into the bleached blond that was standing protectively next to the redhead.

< He is attractive,> whispered Angelus in a seductive tone. < We could have much fun with the lad, and it has been over a hundred years since there was a human in our bed. Just imagine, that long body pinned beneath you as you slip into that slick heat, the thrumming of his blood as it races just below his fragile skin before you neatly slice through that delicate protection with your fangs, freeing the blood to rush over your tongue, causing him to shout your name in pleasure. > Angel tried to ignore the murmured voice, but a soft, pain filled groan announced Darien's return to consciousness.

******************************************

The pain that radiated through his head wasn't the same pain that announced the onset of quicksilver madness, but that didn't mean it hurt any less. A groan escaped from Darien as full consciousness slammed onto him, nearly smothering him as bruises that had developed since he had been thrown into the wall made themselves known, and he squeezed his eyes closed as he desperately tried to ignore the pain.

A hand on his shoulder surprised him and his eyes flew open to gaze at the concerned faces of Hobbes and Claire. "Did ya find out what Chrysalis wants with those guys?" asked Darien, trying to stop his head from pounding. A strange feeling at the base of his skull was distracting him, like a persistent tingle, and he reached up a hand to rub the spot. For some reason, he was not surprised to feel the smooth scar that marked the spot where the gland had been implanted and he blinked at the frustrated expression that crossed Hobbes's face. "What? Did something happen?"

Hobbes snorted, softly. "Only you blurting out our mission here," he murmured, raising his head to focus on something out of Darien's sight. Darien frowned and carefully raised his head, wincing at the pain that arced through his skull at the slight movement, and groaned when he saw the four people from the folder and two strangers.

"Aw crap," he groaned, before dropping his head back to the cushion and covering his face with his hands. "Sorry, Hobbes."

"What is Chrysalis and why would these dudes be interested in us?" asked a voice that was straight from the streets.

Darien, dropped his hands to his sides and carefully sat up, painfully aware of bruises as his back complained about the movement. "Chrysalis is a group that wants to basically take over the government and replace it with their own version," explained the lanky man as Claire calmly stood up and moved off to one side. "As for why they'd be interested in you, we were hoping you could tell us." He focused on the black man whom he remembered as Charles Gunn as he answered the question, but allowed his eyes for roam across the others there. The strange bleached blond man reminded Darien a bit of Billy Idol, but there was something almost feral about him. The redhead next to him was staring at him with curious green eyes that should have belonged to a cat, but combined with her scarlet hair and pale skin, painted a very striking picture.

"I've never heard of a Chrysalis interested in us," remarked the thin dark haired man with an English accent coloring his words. "Only Wolfram and Hart have shown interested in Angelus, but for what, I couldn't tell you." < Wesley Wyndahm-Pierce, > Darien silently identified as the pain slowly faded from his head.

"Can't or won't?" inquired Hobbes, his voice carrying the suspicious edge that Darien was use to his partner displaying when dealing with suspects.

"Can't," clarified a deep voice that sent shivers up the lanky man's spine, as if someone had brushed velvet over his skin. He looked up into one of the most handsome faces he had seen and realized that Angel O'Shea definitely fit his name. He definitely resembled an angel, and Darien swallowed nervously as warm chocolate eyes met his own.

The woman, Cordelia Chase, snorted and folded her arms across her chest. "And it's not like we can just walk up to the Law firm from Hell and ask them 'By the way, why do you wanna bring the walking apocalypse known as Angelus back?'." The sarcasm in her voice was thick enough to walk on, but Darien realized that this was a defense for her since the worry in her eyes belied her apparent unconcern.

The redhead grinned. "Can I borrow your computer for a few minutes, Cordelia?" she asked.

"Huh? Why do you need it, Willow?" The request had apparently thrown the brunette beauty.

Willow, the redhead, shrugged. "It's apparent that there has to be some connection to this Chrysalis and Wolfram and Hart," she replied. "If it's out there, I'll find it." Cordelia grinned and led the red head behind the main desk in the lobby where a computer monitor was barely visible over the top of the desk.

"Maybe you could answer a few questions for us, Mr. O'Shea," began Hobbes, only to have four people regard him with puzzlement while the bleached blond smirked at Angel who was looking a bit embarrassed.

The blond chuckled slightly. "Still using that name, eh Peaches?" Unlike Wesley, his accent was more Cockney and less refined, which fit the dangerous image he presented.

"Spike, don't pick on Angel," called Willow, her eyes never leaving the computer screen. "Not unless you want to find yourself walking back to Sunnydale in the sunlight." She stood up and regarded the group curiously. "Does anyone know some rich guy named Stark?"

Instantly, Darien felt his partner stiffen and he also felt himself shift into an alert state. "Yeah. He's the head of Chrysalis. Why?" demanded Hobbes, his voice emotionless.

"Apparently, he's a main backer for Wolfram and Hart. One of the few humans on the board that the demons tolerate because of his money and personality," she reported, fiddling with something at the computer before emerging from behind the desk. A triumphant smile graced her face. "There's your connection and why this Chrysalis is after Angel Investigations. Because the lawyers want Angelus."

"Who is this Angelus that you keep talking about?" demanded Darien, the tingling in his head finally driving him to the breaking point.

"I am," confessed Angel, his voice soft and sorrow-filled. Darien could only stare at the handsome man as he tried to process what he had just been told. For some reason, a law firm, backed by Stark's money, was after Angel for some unknown reason, but whatever the reason, Darien knew it couldn't be a good one. The throbbing in his head warned him that he had not fully recovered from his injuries and he winced.

A large hand suddenly appeared before him, causing him to jump slightly. He looked up to find Angel staring at him with concern. "I have a guest room that you can recover in," he offered, his voice still soft, and Darien took the offered hand, startled at how cool and soft it was.

"Thanks. I still need a little down time," agreed Darien, tossing a glance back at Hobbes before following Angel up the stairs to the second floor. He
didn't pay too much attention to where they were going, content to admire the way the black clothing fit on the broad frame before him. Quickly, he shoved those lustful thoughts out of his mind. It wasn't as if he was repulsed by the idea of being attracted to a man. He had long since accepted the fact that he was attracted to both men and women, but the dark haired man before him was dredging up memories and feelings that Darien preferred to leave buried for now.

Darien pulled himself out of his thoughts when he realized that Angel had stopped before a door. "You can rest in here," offered Angel, opening the door for him and stepping aside. Darien smiled his thanks and slipped into the room. He was startled when Angel followed him into the room, firmly closing the door behind him. "I was hoping we could talk about a few things that puzzle me," confessed Angel.

< What is this? 'Let's see how badly Darien can blow it?'> Darien silently shouted. His head had begun pounding again and all he wanted to do at this point was crawl into the bed and ignore the world until the sun rose. "What do you mean?"

"Simple. There was a metallic smell that surrounded you outside, and it also discouraged a fledgling in bloodlust from making you his meal," replied Angel with a casual shrug. "Care to explain that?"

< Metallic smell? What is he talking about? Can't be the quicksilver, can it? > "Sorry, don't know what you're talking about," Darien replied, sitting on the edge of the bed.

"I think you do. It was strongest when the tattoo on your wrist was almost completely red."

< Damn. He does mean the quicksilver. It's the only explanation, but how could he smell it? > Darien raised his gaze and stared right into Angel's eyes. "How were you able to smell it?"

A smirk curled Angel's mouth. "So you do know what I'm talking about."

"And you didn't answer my question," countered Darien, slipping his jacket off and tossing it across the back of a nearby chair. He tried to ignore the dark eyes that seemed to follow his every movement, but it wasn't easy.

Suddenly, he felt a strange tingle race across his skin, as if he had been blanketed in static electricity and goosebumps appeared. "If you must
know, I'm a vampire," came the reply in an emotionless voice. "So what was the source of the smell?"

The firm tone left no room for argument and Darien sighed in defeat as he ran a hand through his spiky brown hair. "It's like this," he began.
 

~Part Four~

Silently, Hobbes made his way up the stairs after Angel and Darien. It wasn't that he distrusted Angel, but Darien was his partner and Bobby Hobbes never bails on his partner. Not even Darien who seemed to have a knack for getting into trouble more often than not, and it was usually Hobbes's skills combined with Darien's smarts that got them out again.

'Besides, I still don't trust this O'Shea guy,' he decided, grateful that the carpeting muffled his footsteps. He crept down the hallway and paused outside a door when he heard Darien's familiar voice coming from behind it.

"...And so I have to be careful or this thing in my head turns me into a red eyed psychopath." The tired voice was undoubtedly Darien's and it appeared that the man was still having trouble with the "need to know" aspect of his life. 'Fawkes, we still don't know why Chrysalis wants this guy and you decide to tell him the details of your life!' Drawing his gun, Hobbes twisted the doorknob and shoved the door open.

Darien sat on a neatly made bed while Angel stood nearby. Both looked at him startled until a familiar look of frustration settled on Darien's face. He often wore that look, especially during his early days at the Agency, but it had recently faded as Hobbes gained Darien's trust.

"What do you want, Hobbes?" inqured Darien. There was hostility in his voice that made the stocky man flinch slightly, but he returned Darien's glare with one of his own.

"I came up to make sure you're okay and I find you telling someone who does not have proper clearance about something that he doesn't need to know," stated Hobbes, tightening his grip slightly on his gun. He didn't want to shoot anyone, but he wouldn't hesitate if Angel made a wrong move.

Darien snorted in disgust. "Are you sure you weren't up here checking up on your loose cannon of a partner?" he inquired, mockingly. Hobbes looked at Darien, stunned. Never before had he heard that tone from Darien unless he was under the influence of quicksilver madness, and Darien's face crumpled. "Ah, I'm sorry, Hobbes. I don't know what's wrong with me right now, and this tingle in my head isn't helping matters any." He ran a hand over his face as if he was trying to rub his tiredness away and lay back on the bed.

Hobbes holstered his gun, discretely, as he approached the bed. "What tingle? Think something's wrong with the gland?"

"I dunno. Maybe I'm just tired," countered Darien, reluctance to discuss it clear in his voice. "Why don't you take the Big Bad vampire and let me get a little bit of rest."

"Fine, but if you start sleepwalking again, don't be surprised to wake up tied to the bed," warned Hobbes with a small smile. The last thing they needed was the gland taking Darien on a nocturnal stroll and then having to explain it to these people. Darien shooed Hobbes out of the room as he curled up on his side with his back facing the door, and Angel smiled slightly as he escorted the stocky agent from the room.

Hobbes glanced up at Angel to find his face a calm mask of indifference with haunted eyes. "So why does this law firm want you?" inquired Hobbes as the two stood in the hallway for a few minutes. "Or rather Angelus?"

Angel shook his head, indicating his lack of knowledge. "I have no idea," he confessed. "Especially since the last time Angelus got free, he nearly pulled the entire world into Hell." He tossed Hobbes a rueful smile. "Not exactly the kind of person you want on your side."

"Wait a minute," demanded the stocky man, grabbing Angel's arm and spinning him around to face him. "What do you mean 'the last time Angelus got free'? Is this kinda like a split personality thing going on here?"

"No," objected Angel, staring down at Hobbes. "When a human is turned, their body is taken over by a demon while their soul goes wherever it's suppose to go. The demon has all the human's memories and behavior to work with, but it twists them and uses that against friends and family of the human. Liam O'Shea was a drunk who probably slept with every woman in Galway, Ireland until one night when a blond woman lured him into an alley before turning him into Angelus O'Shea, part of the Scourge of Europe. A hundred years of killing, raping and pillaging later, Angelus eats a gypsy girl who happened to be the favorite of her tribe. For that, the gypsies cursed Angelus with the worst thing they could think of."

Hobbes snorted in disbelief. "What's that, tooth decay?"

If anything, the haunted look in those dark eyes grew. "They cursed him with a soul." The words were carried on a soft breath of air and Hobbes shivered with the horror and despair that shaded them. "What I didn't know was that a moment of true happiness would cause the soul to leave again. What was left was the demon, alone once more, but nearly a century of being buried under guilt twisted the demon." A bitter smile crossed Angel's face. "Oh, the terrorizing and the stalking was true to form, but he did things that he never would have done if he was sane."

No matter how sensible and reasonable Angel sounded, the story still played on Hobbes' mind like a fairy tale and the one thing Bobby Hobbes hated was being played for a fool. "Excuse me, Alice, but I think I've missed my turn-off for the Rabbit Hole."

As he watched, something passed over the handsome face, and Angel's whole body changed. He stood a bit straighter with his shoulders square, and minute lines in his face smoothed out as the haunted gaze was replaced by one that tempted and teased. A corner of his mouth rose into a smirk, and a dangerous air surrounded the larger man. "Actually, Mr. Hobbes, you're about to find out that you have just entered the Rabbit Hole and that Wonderland is really a Realm of Nightmares." Even his voice had changed. The constant guilt that had shaded his words had dropped away to be replaced by a throaty purr that tantalized and teased his ears, promising a multitude of sins that would undoubtedly lead to Hobbes' downfall but still telling him that he would enjoy the ride.

He collided with a solid surface and realized that Angel had somehow backed him into the wall without his knowledge. He looked up only to become trapped by the dark eyes that seemed flecked with gold, and couldn't look away, no matter what his instincts were screaming at him. This wasn't the same man who had rescued him from the monsters outside. This was a predator as dangerous and as deadly as a panther and just as predictable.

"I can take you apart and put you back together again to fit my purpose and you'll beg me to continue. I've turned the most pious of nuns into the cheapest of whores. I've convinced the innocent that they're children of Satan and had them begging me for forgiveness and absolution. I can twist your dreams to suit my nightmares and break you, body, mind and soul." It was getting hard to think with those words swirling through his head, and Hobbes felt the very air close in around him. His heart pounded in his ears and his pants felt incredibly tight, the large form in front of him radiating a seductive power that made him want more of.

Suddenly, as if a switch had been flipped, the power faded, leaving him panting for breath and blinking in stunned disbelief as Angel stepped back and spread his hands slightly. "I think you understand why letting Angelus loose on the world again is a very bad idea," he stated before turning and leaving the panting man leaning heavily against the wall.

*****************************************************************

Spike glanced up the stairs as Angel descended, and he watched the older vampire carefully. Thanks to his supernatural senses, he had heard the conversation in the hallway 'If you can call a bloody seduction a conversation' and had to wonder just how close to the surface Angelus truly was. "Ya realize that the bloke's gonna hold a grudge, don't ya, Angelus?" inquired Spike as the dark vampire stopped at the bottom of the stairs.

"Possibly," murmured Angel as he regarded the peroxide blond with an unreadable gaze. "But with Wolfram and Hart stepping up their assault against me, I'll use anyone and anything at my disposal to stop them." Turning, he walked across the floor where Willow was sitting, discussing the spell she had found with Wesley, and Spike felt a shiver of excitement run down his spine. His Sire's plans were always interesting, especially when they involved taking down an enemy of the Clan's, and it looked like Angelus of the Order of Aurelius has declared war on Wolfram and Hart.

The sound of soft footfalls drew Spike out of his musings and he looked up as Hobbes stopped next to him, a cold mask hiding his emotions. "We're not human, despite how we look, mate," stated Spike, returning his gaze to Angel's large form where he was sitting next to Willow. "An' Angelus has always been a sadistical bastard. Especially when he decides to take out an enemy."

That got Hobbes' attention. "Enemy? What enemy?"

"Wolfram and Hart among others," came the reply. "Now, as far as Peaches is concerned, war has been declared and he will do anything to win." Deciding to end this conversation before he revealed something that could be used against him later, Spike crossed the floor and sprawled next to Willow on the couch, tossing a possessive arm across her shoulders while throwing a glare at Angel who was sitting too close to HIS redhead for his comfort. "So what's the plan?"

"Simple. Willow will perform the spell to secure my soul and then we hold a Council of War to brain storm on how to stop Wolfram and Hart once and for all," Angel announced in a calm voice, but Spike could hear the underlying lust for blood and violence that he had not heard in over a century. It made his fangs itch to feel flesh part under their razor sharp edges, and his demon must have been showing in his eyes because Angel placed a calming hand on his arm, soothing the demon and Spike's own bloodlust.

Spike nodded once. "What do you need me to do?"

"If the spell is disrupted for any reason, Angelus will be free, so you have to make sure that it's not disrupted," announced Willow, looking rather excited at the prospect of performing a spell this important. "The necessary components are rather common and Wesley probably has some so we can start the spell whenever you're ready."

"I'll make sure the kiddies know what's about to happen." With that, Spike stood up and collected Claire and Hobbes while Wesley went to fetch the needed items to begin the spell.

Claire looked around, slightly confused. "Excuse me, but what exactly is going on here?" she asked, her voice that terribly polite yet stuffy tone that only the British could pull off.

"It's like this, ducks," remarked Spike, slinging a companionable arm around her shoulders. "Red's gonna perform a spell that makes sure that the Great Poof stays the wanker he is. Our job is to make sure that no one and nothing interrupts her or my crazed sire gets loose and causes the next Apocalypse." He gazed down into her blue eyes. "Is that clear enough fer ya?" He glanced around and spotted Cordelia standing off to one side, trying to watch everything and store the information away for later like the Gossip Queen that she was. "Oi, Legs!" Spike's cry whipped the brunette's head around and she tossed him a glare that spoke volumes. A smirk crossed his face. This one would make an excellent partner to exchange stinging barbs with. "Do you know where Peaches has some chains?"

That got a delicate eyebrow raised in his direction. "Why? Thinking about getting kinky?" asked Cordelia, her voice as cold as steel.

Unable to help himself, Spike threw back his head and laughed, which earned him a darker glare. "No, but I was thinking that we could use them to tie Peaches up and torture him until he stops brooding." He grinned as her eyebrows tried to merge with her hairline. "Actually, I was thinking about using them on anyone who decided to disturb Red." A thoughtful look crossed Cordelia's face before she vanished behind the old reception desk. There was a clank of iron and she emerged with chains and manacles dangling from one hand and a sturdy padlock in the other.

"I figure that after the actress incident, it would be best if there were chains handy," she explained, walking over to a throw rug and kicking part of it back to reveal an iron ring imbedded in the marble flooring. "Besides, these are nice vamp-proof chains that cost us a bundle." With swiftness that startled Spike, she had the free end of the chain wrapped through the ring and locked, before standing up and dusting off her hands. Turning, she flashed the peroxide blond a smug smile and wandered back to the desk where she picked up a loaded crossbow.

Suddenly, the hairs on the back of Spike's neck stand on end just as soft words in a foreign tongue reach his ears. A quick glance over reveals Willow and Angel standing in a circle composed of crushed crystal and herbs. 'Looks like it's time for waiting', he muses, gesturing for Claire and Hobbes to spread out around the room. He stood near the stairs, thus sealing off the last possible way to approach the circle. Out of all of them gathered in the lobby save for Angel himself, Spike knows what's at stake if something should go wrong. And Willow would be the first victim of Angelus'. There was no way he would let that happen.

A soft sound pulled his attention away from the two figures in the middle of the lobby, and he looked up as Darien appeared at the top of the stairs, a curious expression on his face. Spike's instincts were telling him that there was something wrong here and the blond vampire carefully filtered through the mass of sounds that surrounded him until he managed to pin down what was bothering him: the slow and steady heartbeat of someone asleep.

As casually as possible, Spike wandered over to Hobbes' side and nudged the stocky man with his elbow. "Does your partner sleepwalk often?" he inquired, casually, when that glacial gaze was turned on him. A confused look crossed the other man's face and Spike nodded towards the lanky man who was slowly descending the stairs. "His body may be movin' but accordin' ta his heartbeat, he's asleep on his feet."

"Oh damn," whispered Hobbes before raising his voice slightly. "Hey Doc. Looks like the gland is going for a stroll again." Claire's head whipped around and a stream of colorful words spilled out of her mouth.

Darien stopped at the base of the stairs and cocked his head, as if studying the odd scene before him. "Strange. Never thought I'd see a wampyre guarding humans that don't bear his claim," remarked the lanky man in a soft voice that was husky with sleep. Spike was momentarily startled to hear the common demonic name for "vampire" slip past Darien's lips but shoved it to one side.

"And just what are you doing here?" inquired Spike, deliberately moving back to put himself between the sleeping man and Willow.

The silence in the lobby is only broken by the soft chanting and Spike watches as those cloudy brown eyes drift past his shoulder to focus on Willow. Suddenly, the handsome features twist into a mask of rage and his eyes snap back to focus on the blond vampire. "NO! You won't trap me again!" With that, Darien launched himself at Spike, obviously hoping to get past him and disrupt the spell, but Spike was expecting the break for freedom.

Instinctively, he grabbed onto the thin wrists and pain arced through his head. Despite whatever had been done to Darien, the chip still read him as human, thus punishing Spike for his rough handling of him. Gritting his teeth against the pain, Spike tightened his grip on Darien and struggled against the determined struggles. Silver began leaking out of the struggling man's pores as a cold metallic scent surrounded the blond vampire, bringing back days of torture in clammy basements and nights of pleasure. There were muffled curses from behind him and a scrambling of feet as Spike tried desperately to maneuver Darien over to the chains lying neatly coiled on the floor. As the silver enveloped Darien, the blond vampire wondered what was going on for a second before the sudden drop in temperature seared the skin on his hands at the same time Darien vanished from sight. Drawing on all of his experience, Spike ignored the cold that was creeping up his arms and the searing agony that was trying to melt his brain and wrapped himself around the invisible man before throwing both of them to the floor, making sure that he took the brunt of the fall with his immortal frame. He spared a second to glare at the immobile humans. "Will someone help me with this wanker?"

Claire scrambled for her bag and grabbed a pair of heavy gloves before tossing them over to Hobbes. The stocky man pulled them on as he approached the struggling vampire, pausing long enough to grab the manacles. Spike met Hobbes' gaze and nodded, indicating that he was ready for any move that the human was going to make, and Hobbes held up the manacles slightly, signaling his intentions. As the stocky man reached them, he stumbled as an invisible foot lashed out and connected with his legs and almost dropped the manacles. Shifting into his true face, Spike bared his fangs in a snarl and managed to wrestle Darien around so that the lanky man was laying face down on the marble floor with his arms twisted around behind his back and Spike resting his knees on each side of his hips.

"Think you can get him cuffed now?" demanded Spike, gritting his teeth as the pain in his head grew at his manhandling Darien. He didn't bother looking up as a pair of gloved hands entered his vision and he shifted his grip slightly to allow the iron bracelet to close around the invisible wrist with a satisfying click. Within seconds, the second manacle was around the other wrist and Spike staggered off of Darien's still invisible form before collapsing to the floor, cradling his aching head in his throbbing hands. Gentle, warm hands removed his from his head and soft gauze was wrapped around them. He was able to pry open his eyes to see Claire kneeling before him, expertly wrapping his hands and he looked down to see flesh turned white from frost.

"Darien's external temperature drops to 0 degrees Celsius or 14 degrees Farinheight when he turns invisible," stated Claire, her voice cool and professional as she finished bandaging one hand and scooped up the other. Within seconds, that too was wrapped in gauze, and she examined his face critically. "What else hurts?"

Spike snorted. "Don't thin you can help me with my other problem, ducks," he drawled, slowly standing up. He was pleased to note that the pain from that thrice cursed Initiative chip had faded to a dull ache and there was a soft sound like wind chimes from behind him. A glance over revealed Darien stretched out on the marble floor, his hands manacled behind his back, asleep once more. It took a few seconds for him to realize that the silence was all encompassing and that nagging feeling that he always associated with magic was gone. His eyes flew to the center of the lobby where Willow lay on the floor, apparently unconscious near the unmoving form of Angel. He had crossed the floor before anyone could stop him and he paused at the edge of the circle as the larger vampire began stirring slightly. As the dark figure pushed himself up into a sitting position in the circle, a single, hesitant word slipped past Spike's lips, full of questions that he couldn't voice.

"Angelus?"
 

~Part Five~

The first thing that he noticed when he opened his eyes was that the struggle in him that he had been fighting for over a century was no longer there. Slowly, he pushed himself up into a sitting position and winced as his head decided to announce its presence by throbbing.

"Angelus?" The word was full of questions and uncertainties and he looked over to see Spike standing at the edge of the circle, a mix of emotions on his face. Carefully, he stood up and swayed slightly before he caught his balance.

"I'm all right, Will," he stated, automatically using a name he hadn't uttered in nearly a century. "Just a bit disoriented." He glanced around and noticed the lanky form stretched out on the floor with his arms shackled behind his back and Willow passed out nearby. He knelt next to the redhead and smiled at Spike, who had taken a step towards him. "She'll be fine. Just passed out."

There was a wariness in those blue eyes that confused him for a moment before it dawned on him why his Favorite Childe would be nervous around him. "It looks like Willow's spell worked," he announced, making sure his voice carried across the room.

"Are you sure?" inquired Wesley as he approached the circle from where he had been standing.

He spread his arms as if offering himself up for inspection and quickly flashed his game face. "The demon is silent and I have no urge to turn Los Angelus into a buffet, but the guilt is lessened."

Just then, Willow groaned and he helped her sit up. "Owie, head hurts," she muttered before opening impossible green eyes and staring straight into his own. A smile spread across her face. "Glad to see it worked." With his help, she carefully stood up and broke the circle, stumbling slightly as she stepped across the herbs and crystals. Instantly, Spike was there, holding her up and from the startled look on the peroxide blonde's face, he had acted before thinking. A faint blush crossed Willow's cheeks and a soft smile appeared on her face.

"Okay, if no one else is going to ask it, I will," interjected Cordelia, folding her arms across her chest as she leveled her gaze at the dark vampire. "So what do we call you: Angel or Angelus?"

That question caught him by surprise. "I hadn't really thought about it," he confessed, running a hand absently through his hair. "But Angel is fine." Cordelia nodded once in acceptance and he had a feeling it was more in not having to spend money changing the business cards than anything else. Frowning slightly, Angel nodded towards the sleeping man still on the floor. "What's he doing here?"

"Apparently a 'gland' decided to take Darien for a walk and he tried to interrupt the spell because he thought we were trying to trap him or some such bollocks," announced Spike as he stepped back from Willow.

Angel nodded, remembering his conversation with Darien before the spell. "I'll take him back upstairs," he stated as he brushed past his Childe to approach the sleeping man. With a practiced ease, Angel had the manacles unfastened and Darien scooped up in his arms before anyone could protest. Within a few minutes, he had returned Darien to the bed he had started out in and returned to the lobby to find everyone watching him expectantly. As casually as he could, Angel strolled over to the couch and sank down on it, smiling slightly as Spike, Wesley, Willow and Cordelia claimed various seats scattered throughout the lobby.

"So what are you going to do about Wolfram and Hart?" inquired the ex-Watcher, watching him with a calm gaze.

Angel's answering smile was purely demonic. "They want Angelus so bad, we'll give them Angelus," he replied, his voice taking on a hint of an Irish accent. "And make them regret doing it."

Flipping her long hair over her shoulder, Cordelia frowned slightly. "We have to find out why they want Angelus so badly," she objected. "That means getting into their records and files somehow."

A distant look appeared in Spike's eyes as he absently fiddled with a cigarette. After several minutes of not saying anything, Angel politely cleared his throat and dragged the peroxide blonde back from wherever he had been. "What?"

"I was just about to ask you that," replied Angel, cocking his head as he studied his Childe.

Sighing, Spike lit the cigarette and let a familiar smirk fall into place. "I was just thinking about that party we went to back in 1890, I think it was," he stated, gesturing with his cigarette as he spoke. "Remember, it was the talk of London high society for a month before hand because one of the royals was suppose to be there."

The memory surfaced and Angel felt himself smiling at it. It had been at the ancestral home of a family whose wealth and title dated back to the Roman invasion of the British Isles, and on top of that, the father was a member of the Watcher's council. There had been some rare books on blood magic that had interested the Master and he had suggested that Angelus and Darla go to the party and retrieve them for him. They had decided to take Spike and Druscilla because they had a better chance of getting the books if there was a distraction in another part of the house. They had managed to get in and while Spike and Druscilla were having fun in the ballroom, Darla and Angelus snuck into the library and made off with several of the Watcher's books. "Yeah, I remember that. You and Dru enjoying yourselves in a Watcher's estate while Darla and I browsed through his library." A chuckle escaped the dark vampire. "I don't think it helped his cause any when he tried to explain to the Council that the Scourge of Europe somehow made off with his books."

"Well, if it worked then, why can't it work now?" demanded Spike, lifting his scarred eyebrow to accent the question. "Look, it's getting close to Halloween, an' if they wanna make nice with their demon clients, then they'll probably wanna throw some kinda party. All we have ta do is make sure we get invited an' then we can browse through their records while someone else is drawin' their attention away." He shrugged. "The only question is who plays Peepin' Tom an' who plays distraction."

Willow stifling a yawn caught his attention and Angel suddenly realized just how late it was. "It's late so why doesn't everyone get some sleep and we can continue this discussion in the morning," he offered, standing up. "There are enough rooms here for everyone, if you want."

Claire stood up with Hobbes. "Thanks but we have rooms nearby," stated Hobbes, starting towards the stairs. "SO we'll collect Darien and we'll talk to you in the morning." He vanished upstairs only to return a few minutes later with a rumpled looking Darien.  The trio nodded before vanishing out the door, and Spike stood up as well.

"Suppose, we'd better get back to Sunnydale too," stated the peroxide blonde in a voice devoid of emotions. "After all, we only showed up ta get that book."

Angel was surprised at that voice.  Spike only sounded like that when he desperately wanted to keep his emotions from showing. "Actually, I was hoping that both of you would stay to help me with this," confessed Angel, facing both Spike and Willow. He knew that Spike didn't trust him, but considering how he had treated his Most Favored, this didn't surprise Angel at all. He vowed to try and bridge the chasm that had developed between them from first the soul and then the way the demon treated the crippled vampire upon his re-emergence in Sunnydale. Surprise flickered across the peroxide blonde's face before it settled into a suspicious glare, and Angel approached Spike, laying a claiming hand on his shoulder. "After all, Angelus would hardly be seen without his Favorite Childe. Especially after all these years."

"And what if they know about what happened on the Hellmouth a few years ago?" The question was whispered out on a breath of air as if Spike was afraid of the answer.

"IF thy have the nerve to ask about that, then we'll rip their throats out," purred Angel, reaching up to cup the sharp cheekbone that he spent hours sketching. Now was a good of time to start bridging the gap. "Besides, I was wrong to treat you that way. I know that now." He looked into disbelieving blue eyes, and prayed to anyone who would listen that his boy believed him. "Forgive me?" Those blue eyes waiver slightly before Spike nods once, accepting the peace offering extended towards him. A soft sigh reminds them that they're not the only one's in the lobby and Angel looks over as a look of misery flashes over Willow's face before it settled back into its sleepy mask with a touch of triumph that she had been wearing since discovering that the spell worked. "Spike, why don't you get your bags out of the car while I show Willow to a room."

The younger vampire opened his mouth as if to protest, but caught the look in Angel's eyes, silently pleading for him not to argue and he closed his mouth with a snap before strolling out of the lobby. The dark vampire turns to Willow and holds out a hand to her. "Come on, let's get you settled for the night," he offers.

"Thank you but it's not necessary," she objected. "I'm sure you and Spike have a lot of stuff to catch up on." Her voice is casual, but Angel can hear an underlying current of pain and he suddenly realized the extent of her feelings for his childe.

"Actually I wanted to talk to you about Spike," he began, casually, as they mounted the stairs. At her puzzled look, he continues. "You do know that he cares about you deeply, don't you?" When her confusion didn't fade, he took a breath and continued. "Will has always worn his heart on his sleeve and when he loves, it's absolute. I often used that against him in the past when we were together, but now, I want to regain my friend." He stopped and turned to look at Willow who also turned to face Angel. "Tell him how you feel about him. Despite all his blustering, he's been hurt and hurt badly when it comes to love, making him more timid about exposing his feelings."

A melancholy smile crossed Willow's face. "I'll talk with him," she said, softly. She stood on tiptoe and kissed Angel's cheek before starting down the hall when she stopped. "Oh, I think it might be best to somehow remove the chip from Spike's head if nothing else so he can defend himself against humans."

"What chip?" Angel's question was met with the door closing behind the witch who obviously didn't hear it. Growling softly, he closed his eyes and leaned back against the wall as he thought about everything he had learned about the Sunnydale gang from Cordelia's phone calls, but nothing other than "Spike's now working with Buffy" he had no idea what had happened to his bleached blonde childe after the whole torture for the ring affair. 'Looks like the only way I'm going to find out what's going on is to talk to Spike.'

The soft sound of footsteps alerted him to his childe's arrival and he looked up as a look of frustrated grief crossed Spike's face. Instantly, Angel realized what was wrong. He was standing close to the door Willow vanished behind and Spike obviously thought that he was going to take the redhead away from him. "I'm not going to take Willow from you, Will."

That earned him a glare from the peroxide blonde. "Why not?" he snarled, keeping his voice low so as not to wake Willow. "You've enjoyed taking everything else from me, so why not Willow?"

"Because you love her," Angel replied with a shrug. "Let's go out and get something to drink. Celebrate our freedom from a unbalanced Angelus." Spike opened his mouth as if to say something before shutting it again and nodding in agreement.

An hour and two bottles of Jack Daniels later, Angel was definitely thankful that vampires couldn't get alcoholic poisoning even if they did sober up faster. The two vampires had been trading amusing stories about their time apart and reminiscing fond memories of their hunting days, and Angel was glad that he had his Wil back at his side.

"And then Dru managed ta slip outta her dress 'fore I could stop her and jumped inta the fountain 'cause the goldfish asked her ta swim with them," chuckled Spike. He tossed back the last of his drink before filling his glass again from the third bottle of Jack Daniels that was sitting on the table and finished his story, his Cockney accent fading. "Took me half an hour ta get her outta there, much to the delight of the men."

Laughing, Angel rested his head on his fist as he drained his glass. "So what's this about a chip?" he asked, finally voicing the one topic that they had been dancing around since they arrived at Caritas. He was startled as the humor suddenly fled from Spike's face and the peroxide blonde grabbed the bottle, draining it in seconds. Whatever this was, it was obviously bothering the younger vampire very much. He had never seen Spike act like this even when he was terrorizing him before the Alcathla incident.

Within seconds, the whole story came out from Spike returning to Sunnydale after torturing Angel for the Ring to the fall of the Initiative and him making nice again with the Slayer. By the time he had finished, Angel was barely restraining himself from pounding on the first human he saw. If the Initiative hadn't been destroyed, then he would have gladly shown them the true power of a pair of Master Vampires who had terrorized Europe for two decades. Something began ticking the back of Angels mind, a half fact half idea that was demanding attention and he frowned down at his hand that was still wrapped around half a glass of Jack Daniels.

"There was a case several moths ago," began the dark vampire, trying to voice his thoughts in the hope that it would become clearer. "He was rich, had lots of contacts and was involved with computers. If anyone in this town knows how to get that chip out, he would." He tried to remember the man's name but the alcohol he had consumed was making that simple task very difficult. "What WAS his name again?"

"I believe David Nabbit is the name you're trying to remember, tall dark and handsome," remarked a casual yet flirting voice from beside their table. Angel looked up at Lorne before grinning. "He'll definitely be able to help you with Blondie's chip problem."

That caused the smile to fade from Angel's face. For Lorne to sound so sure about it meant that the Powers That Be had decided to intervene. "Are the Powers really interested in helping a vampire without a soul?"

Lorne took a sip from the pink drink in his hand before cocking his head, studying the two vampires. "They've decided that he's a valuable asset to have on your team, and plus, they've also agreed that what those soldiers were doing was wrong on so many levels," replied the green skinned Host. "Besides, if he can control his impulses with a chip in his head, they figure if he nibbles on a rapist here, a mugger there, he won't have to kill anyone and it works out for all."

Blue eyes peered at him across the table, completely sober and shining with brittle hope, but there was a slight wariness in them as well, as if Spike had been offered this false hope before only to have it crushed before his eyes. With a start, Angel realized that very thing had happened before in the deal with Adam. He had also seen that same hope when he had returned as Angelus only to crush it when he started taking his frustration from the Slayer out on Spike. Perhaps, this time, he'll be able to keep that hope shining in his boy's eyes. "C'mon, Will, let's get home 'fore we're too drunk ta find out way."

"Oi! I'll have you know that I have yet to be too drunk to find my way home," announced Spike in a superior voice as he stood up and swayed unsteadily on his feet. Chucking, Angel hooked an arm around his childe's leather clad shoulders and they stumbled out of Carita's together.

As they walked down the street, Angel sent a silent "Thanks" for the wonders of vampire metabolism as he felt the affects of the alcohol he had consumed slowly fading with each step. Spike also seemed less drunk and steadier but Angel figured his bleached blond childe had more experience with this sort of condition, especially in the last several months. "Ah Will, I've missed ye at me side," purred Angel, reaching over to brush his fingers through the white blond hair and Spike closed his eyes as he leaned into the caress. "Ye had better take good care o' yer witch. She cares fer ye greatly." He was surprised to hear the Irish in his voice, but the small smile on Spike's face was worth it.

Just then, Spike froze and looked around, warily, as if expecting the shadows themselves to suddenly attack him and Angel cocked his head, trying to sense what had scared his childe. Finally he heard it, the soft pounding of a human heartbeat drawing closer to them. "I'll keep ye safe, Will," whispered Angel before turning to look back at their follower. "Are ye gonna come out an' face us or are ye plannin' on followin' us around fer th' rest o' th' evenin'?"

A young man with Oriental features carefully emerged, his dark professional suit out of place for the chilly, windswept streets, but the wariness in those dark eyes announced that he knew exactly what he was facing. "I apologize but I wasn't following you," he said, his voice polite but with no trace of the Far East. "We just happened to be wandering in the same direction, sir."

Spike snorted and glared at the man. "Like we have any reason to believe you," he announced, resting an arm on Angel's shoulder and leaning against the larger vampire like he was a doorframe. He glanced up at the dark vampire. "Think we should give 'em a head start, Sire?"

"Will," Angel began in a warning tone only to get an innocent look back that asked "Who me?". He sighed and shook his head in a friendly exasperation that he only had with his Favorite Childe. The heartbeat was starting to pound faster and Angel looked over at the man to find him staring at them with a wide-eyed look that seemed to be a cross between excitement and panic.

"Will, as in William the Bloody?" asked the man, his voice still professional and calm despite the excitement and panic on his face. He glanced at Angel. "And that would make you Angelus, correct?"

Angel smirked and folded his arms across his chest. "Perhaps I am, lad. Ye've heard o' us then?" Something about this man was sending warning signals down Angel's back and he was not about to stop listening to his instincts after all this time.

The man nodded once. "Yes, we have extensive files on both of you," he stated before turning and vanishing back down the street.

Spike frowned and jerked a thumb in the direction that the man went. "What do you suppose that tosser wanted?"

"I'll tell ye later, Wil," Angel whispered, his eyes darting around. "Fer now, let's get back ta th' hotel." He didn't feel comfortable talking about this in the open and he was relieved when Spike nodded once. Turning, they quickly made their way down the street, not stopping until they were safely back into the Hyperion.

*******************************************************

Gavin tried to contain his excitement as he hurried back to the office building. He really didn't need anything from there but he knew that the Chairmen of Wolfram and Hart would definitely be interested in this development. Angelus and his Favorite Childe, William the Bloody, were back together again after nearly a century of separation. That HAD to mean that Angelus no longer had that soul of his or if he did, it was no longer in control.

'Definitely have to let the Senior Partners know about this,' he decided as he sat down at his desk. Maybe he would finally get a promotion out of Junior Clerk position. Before he could pick up his pen to write, a tickling itch began between his shoulder blades and he looked up to see one of the Senior Partners standing there with a curious look on his face. "Sir, I didn't hear you come in."

"What are you still doing here, Gavin?" he asked in a pleasant voice. "It's nearly two in the morning."

Gavin took a breath and stood, respectfully, as he faced the Senior Partner. "Sir, I just ran into Angelus and his childe, William the Bloody," he announced before launching into his report in full detail. By the time he was done, the curious look on the Senior Partner's face had been replaced with one of thoughtful interest. "With all due respect, if Angelus has truly lost his soul and reverted back to his old habits, then perhaps we should extend a polite invitation for him to come to the annual client's Hallowe'en party and then propose that he sign on with us."

The Senior Partner nodded. "Good idea, Gavin," he agreed. "The invitation will be sent first thing after sunset so I suggest you leave about half a hour before." He turned to leave only to pause and glance over his shoulder. "Oh, I wouldn't mention this little errand to Lilah or Lindsey. They can both be so jealous at times." Gavin nodded as the Senior Partner vanished back into the darkness he had come from before leaving the office for the night. Tomorrow was going to be a long day.

next