The Offering

By Esmeralda

Part Eleven

"I must say, I didn't expect to see you here," said Wesley.

"In L.A.?" Cordelia sounded affronted. "P-lease. I was born to live in this city."

"What? -No," said Wesley hastily. "I meant here - working for Angel."

"Oh. That." Cordelia sat behind the desk. "Well, it's not exactly what I'd pictured myself doing when I came here. However, the monthly paycheck does help pay for my small, but elegantly chic apartment."

"And you're all right with everything that's going on?"

Cordelia seemed to think about it. "I could use less night shifts."

"Actually. I was meaning the…ah…other thing." Wesley used his eyes to indicate the apartment beneath them.

Cordelia frowned. Then her expression cleared. "Oh, you mean the big romance?"

"Romance?"

"Well, it is pretty romantic," said Cordelia. "Now I know that Angel's not going to go all fangy and grrr."

"Are you quite sure about that?"

The rattle of machinery interrupted them and the elevator cage came into view - its occupants locked in a tight clinch.

"Pretty sure," said Cordelia dryly.

Wesley stared; then flushed and looked away.

Angel and Doyle ended the kiss as they exited the cage and walked through to the outer office. "How's it goin'? Shekaa's gonna be up in a minute. She's just waitin' for the frog."

Cordelia frowned at him. "Frog? - Never mind. I don't want to know."

"So, are you an' Shekaa ready to swap the small-talk?" Doyle asked.

"We haven't got that far yet," said Cordelia, looking pointedly at Wesley. "I think we were just about to start."

"Try an' make it snappy, yeah. Me and Xander'll just be checkin' a few things." Doyle turned to Angel. "You watch yourself. Don't let Spike start anythin'." Angel nodded before returning to the elevator in somber silence.

Wesley gathered his wits and proceeded with the lesson. It took slightly longer than he had anticipated. Shekaa, and an oddly ruffled Xander eventually joined them. The girl sat happily playing, while Xander and Doyle went to consult the books in the adjoining room. "I must say," Wesley whispered to Cordelia. "I expected you to be more disturbed."

"Disturbed?"

"By Angel and Doyle," Wesley clarified.

"You mean narrow-minded," said Cordelia icily.

"Actually, I was thinking more along the lines of concerned," said Wesley tightly. "This is an enormously chancy undertaking."

"Maybe," Cordelia conceded. "But I'm happy for them. They deserve the Big Romance to go with all the headaches and the killing." She glanced through the glass partition at her friends. "Now Xander and Spike - that's harder to take. Do you know how weird it is to watch your ex-boyfriend getting it on with a guy? And not just a guy, but the creepy evil undead guy who spent most of High School trying to make us all deader than-" She stopped, suddenly conscious of Wesley's change in expression. "And you so totally didn't know about them, did you?" She groaned and closed her eyes.

"Xander is - With Spike?" Wesley placed a very meaningful pause in the middle.

Cordelia sighed, opened her eyes and nodded.

"He doesn't have his soul?"

"Spike?" Cordelia sent Wesley a - 'you've got to be kidding' - look. "That would be a no."

Wesley stood up. "This is incredible. Good, Lord. A teenager is having intimate relations with a vampire - and no one has thought to try and stop this?"

"No one's stopping anything." Xander stood in the connecting doorway; Doyle leaned against the filing cabinet, having entered the room unnoticed. Xander glared at Wesley. "We need to talk. In here." He stepped aside to let Wesley pass.

"I'm sorry," said Cordelia.

Xander managed a tight smile. "Don't worry about it. He'd have noticed something sooner or later." He went back inside the room and closed the door.

An apprehensive Doyle questioned Cordelia. "You know this guy. Do you think he'll make trouble?"

"Wesley is trouble," said Cordelia. "Of the annoyingly hopeless variety." She wandered back over to her desk, picking up one of the papers Wesley had been showing her. "I can't believe I'm supposed to baby-sit a demon." She glanced at Doyle quickly. "Not that there's anything wrong with them. I just-" She sighed. "Why can't they speak French?"

"You can speak French?"

"I can order drinks. But at least I'd recognize some of the words." Cordelia tried to read out an example. "Mes-uukla." She looked at Doyle. "Would you believe that means 'bread'? How can they take a nice easy word like bread and mangle it into something I'd need two tongues to pronounce."

Doyle could only shrug.

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

"This insanity has to stop-" Wesley jumped involuntarily as Xander slammed both hands down onto the desk.

"This is the deal - I'll talk. You listen," said Xander coldly. "Let's cover what you know first. Spike hasn't got a soul. He hasn't suffered an epiphany; he's still the same Spike who helped to make Sunnydale such a challenging place to live. Next-" Xander ticked off the points on his fingers. "-I love him. Next - he loves me."

Wesley tried to interrupt.

Xander stopped him with a look. "You don't get to talk yet. I'm not gonna give you all the juicy details. Bottom line - we're together and we're staying together. I won't leave him. And just in case you're thinking of doing something suicidally stupid - say with a pointy stick - that won't help. I have it on good authority that if we were to split up now; what I'd go through would make heroin withdrawal look like a chocolate craving."

"I don't understand." Wesley's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "You're not a vampire. He's not your Sire. Why would his demise affect you?"

"I told you; you don't get the juicy details. My advice - don't try it. Even if you got monumentally lucky and Spike didn't force-feed you your own entrails, you'd still have to deal with Angel, Doyle, and me." Xander's face was hard.

"I must confess," said Wesley quietly. "I don't understand how a young man who stood and fought alongside a Slayer can turn his back on everything she risks her life for; to throw in with the very creature she is sworn to destroy. You have to know how this will end."

"You mean when he inevitably gets bored and either turns or kills me?"

"To be brutally frank - yes."

"Not gonna happen. And this isn't Mr. Naivety talking. What we've got is a two-way deal. I can read him like a book: a full colour manual with additional pullouts."

Wesley shook his head in despair. "You're wrong. This can't end well. It won't end well. And I don't know what he's told you-"

"-He doesn't need to tell me anything," said Xander. "That's the whole point."

Wesley kept trying to get through to the young man. "Even if he doesn't intend to kill or turn you - which I find highly unlikely - it's still morally repugnant for you to be associating with a brutal killer." A shadow of something passed over Xander's face. Uncertainty? Whatever it was, Wesley seized on it. "The Xander Harris I knew in Sunnydale wouldn't have threatened me to defend a vampire."

The shadow vanished. Xander was left coolly amused. "Threaten? All I said was that if you tried anything with Spike you'd have to deal with me. I didn't say I'd kill you." Though his tone implied that if he had to - he could. "And you're hardly the guy to be claiming the moral high ground. Last time we met you were trying to get smoochy with a high school girl."

"I hardly think that my - admittedly inadvisable - courtship of Miss. Chase can be viewed in the same light. She's not an evil, soulless blood drinker."

"You and Cordy really didn't date much, did you."

"This is not a joking matter. I am trying to save your life," said Wesley desperately.

"Okay - joking aside. I think that beneath that painfully stiff exterior, you're probably an all right kind of guy. And I know you think you're looking out for me here. But I have to tell you - you're digging into stuff you know noth-"

"-Macon," said Wesley suddenly.

"Huh?"

"Louisa Macon. Her diaries make for quite fascinating reading. Though many dismiss her writing as the ravings of a lunatic. Sadly there is some basis for that, as the unfortunate young woman lost her wits. She was-"

"I know who she was," said Xander. "I got all this from Giles."

"Mr. Giles is aware of these…developments?" Wesley was incredulous. "I can't believe that he would ever condone-"

"He doesn't." Xander defended his friend. "At least, he has his reservations. But he's willing to let me make my own call."

Wesley looked closely at Xander. "And you'd like me to do the same?"

"Honestly? - It doesn't matter much to me what you do. Nothing you try will change anything. But with things as they are, it'd be better all round if you could lay off with the preachy stuff."

Wesley hesitated before answering. "You understand that this goes against everything I believe. However, as my judgement has proved to be less than reliable in the past few months, I am willing to suspend any further action or discussion until after we have recovered Shekaa's family."

"I guess that'll do for now." Xander led them back through into the outer office. Cordelia was showing Shekaa a magazine; pointing out the fashion faux pas.

"We're all done then, yeah?" Doyle asked; his eyes fixed on Xander's face. Xander responded with a jerky nod. Wesley didn't say anything.

"I don't suppose anyone is going to bother filling me in on the details?" Cordelia asked.

"Let's just say if you get a visit from any army-types, you haven't seen us," said Xander. "And keep Shekaa out of sight."

"Army-types?" Cordelia looked at their expressions and quickly put two and two together. "Here? But I thought they were in Sunnydale?"

"That's what we thought. But it looks like they've been branchin' out. They were chasin' the kid down by the docks. They've got her family," said Doyle.

Cordelia put an arm around Shekaa. The girl's gaze flitted anxiously between Cordelia and Doyle, unable to follow the conversation but conscious of the underlying tension. "She'll be fine with me," said Cordelia. She gave Shekaa her sunniest smile; the little girl's mouth curled up in response.

"Kushnet." Shekaa gingerly touched her fingers to Cordelia's face. "Kushnet human."

Cordelia looked at Wesley. "O-kay. I got the human part, I think. But what's with the kooshney?"

"Kushnet; it means pretty." Wesley cleared his throat. "She thinks that you're a pretty human."

Cordelia's cheeks pinked. "She is so sweet," the young woman declared. "How do I tell her thank you?"

"Reupa da."

"Roopa da," said Cordelia. Giggling, Shekaa showed Cordelia what was in her other hand - with the secretive air of one sharing a confidence. She was holding onto one of Angel's large coffee cups. Cordelia peered into it and then sat back quickly. "What is that?"

"Kermit," said Xander. "Don't worry, he'll probably disappear in a few minutes."

"Just be prepared for a slightly more downbeat Shekaa when he does. She's kind of stuck on him," said Doyle.

"It's a frog," said Cordelia in a tone of voice reserved for making such announcements. "Why does she have a frog?"

"It's kind of a long story," said Doyle, moving toward the door. "An' we really don't have enough time to get into it now. Sorry, Princess. I promise we'll give you all the gruesome details later, okay?" He was gone before she could protest.

"I'll leave you my notes," said Wesley. "You may find them of some assistance. I'm terribly sorry to leave you like thi-" His apology was cut short as he was hurried out of the door by an impatient Xander, who simply nodded goodbye and left.

Shekaa's smile slipped as she watched them leave. "Tutsas," she murmured forlornly.

Cordelia sighed. "You said it kid." Glancing down at Shekaa she quickly adopted a more upbeat expression. "How about you and me go downstairs and see if we can't rustle up something a little more snug for Kermit. Say something with a lid?" She took Shekaa's other hand and led the way down to the apartment, keeping a cautious eye on the frog.

"Chirrup."

Part Twelve

Angel and Spike trudged through the sewer tunnel in silence; each occupied with his own thoughts. Neither was happy that necessity had forced them to part ways with their respective lovers. However, time was a vital factor here and they both knew it. They couldn't afford to waste the daylight hours. It made sense for them to pay a visit to 'Endless Pleasures': a local vampire club, while Doyle and Xander accompanied Wesley to Felgards bookstore. That didn't mean they had to like it. Spike in particular was morose and irritable; even the thought of scaring the blood out of a few brainless fledglings did little to improve his mood.

Having Wesley dropped into the mix had thrown him off balance. As far as Spike was concerned, The Watchers were a bunch of upper-class twats who stuck their noses everywhere; somehow managing to know both too much and too little at the same time. He didn't want Xander anywhere near one. The fact that Wesley was officially an ex-Watcher made no difference to him - aside from what it offered in torment value for needling the stuck-up git later on. He had no doubts surrounding his lover; with the simplest of looks or touches he felt the fierceness of Xander's love. He just didn't want the prat giving Xander a hard time when Wesley inevitably caught a clue as to what was going on.

It didn't help that he knew his Sire shared those same misgivings. From what Spike could glean from Angel's monosyllabic mutterings, Wesley had already stuck his beak into things - giving Doyle the third degree over breakfast and lecturing them both on the risks of tampering with curses. Spike scoffed silently. Pretentious twat, did he think they'd just crawled out from their graves yesterday? Angel probably knew more about curses than all the bloody Watchers together - from all the times past. He knew a fair bit himself; just because he preferred not to play around with magic didn't mean he hadn't studied it a time or two. Angelus was a great one for lessons - and equally fond of doling out punishments if you failed to learn quickly enough.

They'd known what they were doing; and if there'd been a risk involved they'd had that covered to. Though to this day, Spike wasn't sure if he could have carried through on his promise to stake Angel if Angelus had emerged. His feelings for Angelus were dark and complicated, but they existed nonetheless. Aside from Dru, he was probably the only other creature on the planet that occasionally still yearned for his Sire's former incarnation. Spike fired a quick glance at Angel, who was brooding; no real surprise there.

He thought of the last time - when Angel had taken him on the rooftop, after Penn's attack on Xander. It had been…different. Different to anything he'd ever had with Angelus. Angelus would merely have fucked him, most likely to the usual accompaniment of violence and mockery. Angelus had a cruel tongue; he'd unleash his spite for the sheer pleasure of seeing the receiver flinch from it, then use his fists to pound the message home. Spike studied Angel's face; seeing the same features with none of the old malevolent insanity. Maybe he didn't miss Angelus all that much.

"What?"

Spike was nudged out of his introspection as Angel addressed him irritably. "Huh-what?" he responded, caught off-guard.

"That's what I was asking you," said Angel with strained temper. "You were staring at me," he pointed out. "Why?"

"Who says I was starin'," Spike bluffed. "Anyway, why would I be lookin' at you?"

Angel rolled his eyes. "All right - you weren't staring at me. You were studying the brickwork. Why the worried look?"

"Who's worried-" Spike began defensively.

Angel stopped, whirling around and slamming Spike up against the wall. "Stop stalling. What's on your mind? You think this is a bad idea? You have something else to offer; let's hear it."

Spike glared past the arm pressing against his throat. Angrier with himself for being caught mooning over his Sire like a dumbfuck teenager. "Gerroff me, tosser."

Angel's only response was to press harder.

Spike didn't need to breathe but he liked his larynx as it was - minus a permanent indentation from Angel's forearm. His favoured form of defense was normally attack. Unfortunately, Angel knew most of his tricks; had taught him a lot of them. Then he became aware of the tension thrumming through his Sire's body and his own anger deserted him in a rush. Spike grinned. "Gettin' to you is 'e?"

It was better than manual override. Angel's face twisted in self-disgust for allowing Spike and the situation to get to him. He released Spike and stood back. "We're wasting time. Come on." He walked off.

Spike's grin faded into sullen defiance. "Wasn't starin'," he muttered as he stomped after his Sire.

***********

'Endless Pleasures' had been founded in a disused factory. It had sewer access, boarded-up windows, loud music and places to chase the unfortunate victims brought in for sport. Spike wasn't bowled over by the warmth of the welcome. Though it amused him no end to see those who recognized their faces scuttling into the shadows. They had good reason to be afraid; Spike had no loyalty toward his own kind, and Angel's newfound benevolence didn't extend to the undead. Spike basked in the terror, strolling smugly beside his Sire. Just like the good old days. This was what he'd missed. Not the violence turned upon him, but the panic and mayhem they could inflict on others.

Spike's focus returned to Angel. Angel or Angelus - it didn't matter. His Sire had power; the ability to instill fear even into unbeating hearts. Spike watched as Angel reached into the shadows, dragging out an unwilling volunteer. Spike was willing to stand back and let Angel run the show for the moment; right now his role was to watch and wait. Hopefully, there'd be the opportunity for a little violence before they had to leave. Spike was aware that not all the club's patrons had tried to slither out of sight. A number were gathered around them; either too stupid to know who they were dealing with, or intent upon proving that they had the bigger wrinklies. They were the ones Spike watched.

Angel shook the vampire in his grasp - a fledgling, fresh out of the nest - Spike could still smell the faint taint of life on him. "I need some information," said Angel; his tone was reasonable, mild even. "I want to know about these missing demons. Start talking."

The vampire gamely tried for cocky. "And if I do?"

Angel shrugged. "Nothing." He suddenly pulled the vampire in close, until they were almost nose-to-nose. "I can't promise the same if you don't." This was accompanied by a look guaranteed to make nervous young vampires loquacious. The fledgling quickly launched into a long rambling dialogue; the jist of it being that he knew some demons had disappeared but he didn't know anything about the how, why, or who. Spike rounded up a few more helpful-types. They got much the same from them. No one seemed to know anything. Frustrated, Angel threw the last vampire away from him - sending him spinning into a group of others. One allowed his temper to override his judgement and he launched himself at Angel snarling.

Angel staked him with the device strapped to his wrist. Pandemonium erupted; the dusted vampire's friends tried their luck - only to meet Spike, who wasn't overly concerned about dusting them. He was content to simply smash a few faces and break a few limbs. The local denizens soon discovered there was very little safety in numbers. Hopelessly outclassed, most ran for the safety of the sewer; others tried to fight and learned firsthand how Angel and Spike had come by their reputations.

Spike was enjoying himself. Angel was in more of a hurry. Spike eventually allowed his Sire to chivvy him back down into the sewers. Angel brushed the dust off his coat, and gingerly poked at his jaw where someone had landed a lucky punch. Spike was positively vibrating, hyped up by the thrill of the fight. He stood still briefly in order to make a show of examining Angel's jaw. "Someone got you good there, mate. Slowin' down a bit are we?"

Angel's hand shot forward. "I don't know. What do you think?" His fingers gripped Spike's throat.

"I think," Spike snarled, "that I'm gettin' fuckin' sick of you usin' me as your chew toy."

A flash of guilt darted across Angel's face; anyone but Spike might have missed it. Angel let go and stepped back, thrusting both hands into his pockets.

"That Watcher git has really got you rattled, huh?" Spike straightened his duster. "Want me to kill 'im for you?"

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

Angel eyed the vicious smirk on Spike's face and knew his Childe was only half-joking. He wondered if he shouldn't he be more disturbed by that. He could almost feel the energy Spike was throwing off; could practically see it - a crackling aura of chaos and destruction. A reluctant smile curved Angel's lips and he shook his head. He was about to say something when he heard the sound of feet sloshing noisily through the watery sludge. They both tensed and backed themselves against the wall. A few seconds later a pitiful figure came into view, staggering and stumbling along the tunnel. It was a Curos demon - clearly exhausted and judging from its expression, terrified. Angel stepped out into its path; the Curos threw up its arms and let out a pitiful cry.

While Angel was trying to calm it down and discover what was wrong, Spike heard something else coming along the tunnel. He tapped Angel's shoulder. " We've got more incoming." Spike's senses quickly alerted him to the presence of humans. He and Angel exchanged a glance. It didn't much reasoning to connect the dots. One terrified demon + humans =

"The Initiative," said Angel. "Move." He steered the terrified Curos down the tunnel. Spike cursed and followed.

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

Further back down the tunnel….

"Hold it, guys," the soldier warned his companions softly. "I'm picking up something new ahead." He studied the hand held scanning device.

"Whatcha got?"

"Two cold ones, cozying up to our target."

"Attacking?"

The first soldier frowned. "Hard to say. Going by their proximity to the hostile and the fact it's still alive; I'd say - not."

"Okay. Kerrigan, send all units an update. Tell them we'll bag and tag these additional two for transport."

"Sir." The soldier took out his radio and proceeded to do as he had been ordered.

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

Angel stopped suddenly. "They're ahead of us."

"They've got the whole fuckin' place sewn up." Spike glared at the cowering Corus. "Thanks a bunch, - mate." His voice dripped sarcasm, fingers itching to slam the creature's skull against the wall. It had led The Initiative down here, trapping them like rats in a barrel.

Angel addressed the terrified demon. "Go. Go on. Get out of here. Pencha." He pointed upwards. The Corus stared at him; then turned and ran down a side tunnel.

"Not very noble of you, mate."

"I told it to go up," said Angel. "It'll probably make it if it gets back on the surface. My guess is they've got everyone down here hunting for it."

Spike scowled. He was only too happy to send the Corus scuttling on its way; he was considerably less happy they didn't share its escape option. They were stuck down here - unless they wanted a very unhealthy case of sunburn. Their available options weren't good; the soldiers were closing in from all directions. They struck out - heading down one of the tunnels, until a voice halted their progress.

"We've got a visual!"

Angel reacted swiftly; snatching up a broken brick he hurled it at the soldier - knocking him off his feet. He yelled to Spike: "Now!"

Spike didn't need the prompt. He was shoulder-to-shoulder with his Sire as they charged into the remaining soldiers, barrelling them aside. Despite the suddenness of their assault, one somehow managed to fire off a shot. Electricity leapt and jumped around Angel's body as he shuddered and fell. Dark eyes met Spike's - dazed and pain filled - they were telling him to run. Spike's survival instincts were screaming the same thing. He over-ruled them both. He shifted into his game-face as he placed himself between the regrouped soldiers and his Sire. Another unit joined the first. Spike grinned, baring his fangs.

The fight was brutal but short. He avoided the first net easily, snagging it with his hand, dragging the solider in close, and punching him out. The second net wrapped itself around his chest and arm. Spike growled and clawed at it as they closed in. He was still able to get in a few satisfying blows - the crunch of bone and spray of blood filling his senses. However, the tasers and nightsticks eventually brought him down; they continued to beat him until consciousness faded and darkness swept away his thoughts.

Part Thirteen

Felgards was a booklover's paradise. Shelving occupied every available inch of floor and wall space, creaking under the weight of hundreds of volumes. Window ledges were crammed with texts, blocking out much of the light. More books were piled on chairs, or stacked in towers on the floor. The place was filled with the odour of musty paper, dust, and old ink. The owner was a short, plainspoken man of indeterminate years, who went by the name of Ed.

Upon their arrival Wesley engaged Ed in a conversation that seemed to consist of him doing the talking, while Ed interjected the occasional harrumph or else stood fiddling with his graying moustache. Doyle and Xander pretended to browse the shelves, trying to resist the urge to interfere. Wesley had pointed out that they were probably more likely to achieve a result if they conversed with the man, as opposed to interrogating him. Since Wesley knew Ed, they were willing to go along with this recommendation for now.

They both stopped when they felt it, their faces registering confusion; then horrified awareness. Doyle swayed and leaned against the shelf next to him for support. Xander wrapped his arms tight around himself. He felt as though something had ripped through him; opening up a sucking chest wound that left him struggling for air.

Wesley approached - disheartened. "I'm afraid I've-" he stopped, suddenly noticing their expressions. "Is something wrong?"

They each grabbed an arm. "We hafta go," said Doyle.

"Go? What-where?" Wesley was utterly at a loss. "But I-"

"Later. Okay," said Doyle through gritted teeth. "Right now we've gotta house call to make."

***********

A short time later…..

"This is suicide." A frantic Wesley objected. "I can't let you do this."

"Feel free to wait here," said Xander, with a calmness he didn't feel.

Doyle was crouched down, sorting through the contents of his rucksack. He took out a couple of small crossbows, handing one to Xander. The other he held out to Wesley. "You can use one of these, yeah?"

Wesley nodded tersely.

"Then are you in, or are you out? Cos I don't have time to chat here."

Wesley opted to try and reason with them one more time. "You say that this is a vampire club of some sort, in which case there are undoubtedly a large number of vampires inside. I can see nothing to be gained from going in there, other than our liniment demise. And you still haven't explained to me the necessity of this venture. I thought that Angel and Spike were investigating this place?"

Xander stared at Wesley blankly, his voice toneless. "They were. But something's gone wrong and the only guys who can tell us what, are in there."

"How do you know something has gone wrong?" Wesley persisted to question them. "We haven't seen or heard anything to indicate-"

"-I can feel it," said Doyle. He exchanged a brief glance with Xander.

Wesley frowned. "Feel? In what way?"

"I'm kinda…connected to Angel."

Wesley was many things, stupid wasn't foremost among them. His mind raced through what Doyle wasn't telling him. These young men were engaged in relations with vampires. The only reference point he had to draw from were the diaries of Louisa Macon. Wesley had always found them intriguing. He had studied them in-depth and could recall passages from memory. He knew that the unfortunate Miss. Macon had spoken of feeling connected to the vampire who had become fixated upon her. Describing how she had shared his feelings - the evil inside her. He stared at Doyle. "You share a connection with Angel."

Doyle hesitated. Wasn't that what he'd said?

"An empathic bond," said Wesley, sounding both incredulous and awed. "You can sense his thoughts?"

Fuck. Doyle really hadn't wanted to get into this. He shook his head. "Not really. I just get the emotional-type stuff. Like you said, that empathy thing."

"Incredible," said Wesley.

"Yeah, awesome," said Xander. "Can we get back on track here?" He indicated the manhole cover in front of them.

Wesley was still thinking out loud. "So you know that something has happened to Angel." He took his turn staring at the manhole cover. "Do you…that is. Are you certain he's-?" Wesley's voice tailed off. Alive didn't really fit.

"He is," said Doyle firmly.

"So he's been hurt? Captured?"

Doyle shook his head helplessly. "I don't know. Mebbe both. Something took him out. I felt-" Doyle stopped. What had he felt before the Bond fell silent? - Pain, fury, regret, resignation. An overwhelming sense of loss as his lover's presence faded. Angel existed; that was all he knew. Otherwise, all was eerily still and silent.

"Enough with the chat," said Xander impatiently. "They were here. Now they're not. These guys must know what happened. I say we ask them."

That was a plan Doyle could go with. He dragged the cover aside. Xander went first. Doyle followed.

They didn't wait for Wesley; who was staring at the crossbow in his hand with a troubled expression. Finally, he muttered: "Oh, to Hell with it," and climbed down after them.

Part Fourteen

Xander was grateful that Doyle had seen fit to drag the club's address out of Angel. He wasn't sure how else they could have found it. There was certainly nothing to advertise its presence: just an old boarded-up building. The sewer presented the only available access. Xander was getting used to sewer travel; the darkness no longer bothered him. His eyes shone gold as he walked through the tunnels. Xander was conscious of the worried glances Wesley kept sending his way, but he paid them little heed. He was struggling to cope with the hollow ache inside him. Every breath seemed to take an unreasonable amount of effort; it was like trying to draw oxygen from a vacuum.

He'd experienced this before - when the Arrubus had attacked Spike. It wasn't any easier to bear second time around. Xander knew his lover was unconscious. It was what he didn't know that was tearing at him. Where was Spike? What had happened? How badly was he hurt? Xander stopped as he felt the familiar tingle he'd dubbed his 'Spidey-sense', alerting him to the presence of so-called otherworldly creatures. Whatever it was, it was close.

Judging by Doyle's expression, he'd sensed it to.

"What?" Wesley whispered. "Why are we stopping?"

"Sssh," Doyle hissed. "Listen."

Xander heard it. The sound of voices approaching. "Vamps?"

Doyle nodded. He turned to Wesley. "Remember, we can't ask 'em anything if they're dust. So don't use that thing unless you hafta."

Xander gripped the crossbow tighter. He readied himself; trying to recall everything that Spike had taught him over the past few months. Then he remembered what Spike had told him first and foremost - in a fight, don't think too much, go with the flow. Xander relaxed his hold on the crossbow. Okay, feel, not think. He could do that. He suppressed a slightly hysterical bubble of laughter; suddenly picturing Spike as a Jedi Master. No. That didn't work. One thing Spike wasn't was calm and controlled.

Three vampires came into view, laughing and talking amongst themselves - looking like your normal everyday, skankily dressed teens. Xander decided they were probably as young as they appeared, otherwise surely they would have detected the waiting presence by now. Just then one of them stopped and sniffed the air.

"Hey. Somebody order in?" A young male in loose-fitting jeans showed off his agility. Performing a standing jump that carried him forward, fifteen feet or so, to land in front of Doyle. The vampire grinned and shifted into game face. "Surprise!" it taunted.

Doyle shifted features and moved in a blur of speed. "Back atcha," he told the startled vampire - just before he grabbed its shoulders and slammed his head into its face.

The vampire fell back with a stunned 'Ooomff', clutching at his broken nose. His friends came forward to investigate: a girl with baby-pink hair twisted into tiny plaits, and dark-haired boy with countless piercings. They approached their fallen companion, and then looked up - eyes widening at the crossbows and Doyle's demonic visage. The girl hissed. The boy threw up his hands. "Hey, dudes. We don't want any trouble. You wanna walk down here, we're cool. Right, guys?" He pulled his friend - who was still sputtering blood - back to his feet. "We'll get out of your way-"

He started moving before he'd finished. First pushing his friend into Doyle and Wesley, then throwing himself at Xander. Knocking the crossbow out of the young man's hand. Growling, he tried to sink his teeth into Xander's throat. "Sorry," Xander quipped as he brought the vampire's head down to meet his oncoming knee. "I'm kind of picky about who get to do that." There was the satisfying crunch of bone and gristle, its own blood momentarily blinding the vampire. Xander used that to his advantage, getting in a few kicks and blows before recovering his crossbow and pressing it against the creature's motionless heart.

Meanwhile, Doyle had briefly pinned down the girl before she threw him off and ran. Wesley took aim - and she became dust in mid stride. The last member of the troop tried to edge away unnoticed. Doyle snatched the empty crossbow from Wesley's grasp and whacked the creature along the side of the head. Stunned, it fell back into the sludge. "Well, two outa three ain't bad," said Doyle as he shifted back into human form.

"I'm sorry." Wesley started to apologise. "I know you didn't want any of them destroyed."

Doyle shrugged. "Better that you did. We weren't gonna catch her anyways."

They forced the two remaining vampires up against the wall. They sat slumped against it. Both nursing bloody bruised faces. Xander and Doyle kept them covered with the crossbows. "We want some information," Xander began.

"We don't know nuffin," the dark one snapped sourly. "We already told them other two that."

"Other two? Two vampires - one dark, one bleached blond?"

"Yeah." The vampire touched his nose and winced. "Someone said they were a couple of the really old ones. You know, from way back. Before lights and TV and stuff." Such a thing was clearly beyond his comprehension.

Xander hid a smirk. "Yeah, we've heard that. So what? They asked some questions?"

The other vampire chipped in, eager to be helpful. Probably in the hope they'd let him go. "They wanted to know about missing demons."

"No one knew anything," the dark one added. "So they went crazy."

"Crazy - how?"

"They busted up the place. We stayed well out of it. I mean, it was awesome stuff; they really knew their moves. But I don't need some crazy old-time dude dusting my ass." The pair shared a nod of agreement.

"Then what happened?" Doyle asked.

"Huh?" They looked up at him blankly.

Xander snapped. He crouched down, pushing the point of his cross-bolt hard into the chest of the most nervous of the pair. "We only need one answer. So who's gonna be surplus guy?"

The vampire tried desperately to squirm away. With the wall at its back, there was nowhere for it to go. "Look. All right, all right. Cool it, okay? I don't know what you want from me here. They kicked up some major dust and then split. End of story."

"They left?"

The vampire nodded frantically. "Yeah, they left. I dunno where they went."

Xander stood up and stepped back. If Spike and Angel had left the club, whatever had rendered them unconscious was probably down here - in the sewers. That made more sense. He'd detected a glimmer of fear from his lover before the Bond had shut him out; Spike would have had nothing to fear from these clowns.

"Look, we really don't know anything. Can we go now?"

"Hmm?" said Xander. "Oh, sure. We're done here."

Wesley looked on appalled, as the two vampires scrambled to their feet. However, they barely managed a handful of steps before Doyle and Xander fired, and they dissolved into clouds of dust. Wesley stared at the swirling particles. Doyle and Xander didn't bother to register the vampires' demise, their focus now on more vital matters. "They would have been headin' home," Doyle mused aloud. "So mebbe if we head back that way we'll find something."

"It's the what that worries me," said Xander, finally voicing his fears.

Surprisingly, it was Wesley who provided reassurance. "You said that they're both still in one piece. Since we now know that they left the club-"

"-If they were tellin' the truth," Doyle cut in grimly.

"For now let us assume that they were," said Wesley. "I suggest we carry through the plan you put forward. That is, perform a reconnaissance of the sewer network heading back to your apartment. We may discover Angel and Spike on route, or if not, we may come across something which might indicate what befell them."

His tone was brisk and authorative. Normally, Xander would have found that irksome. Right now it was oddly comforting. He nodded his agreement. " 'kay. Let's go." He hesitated and glanced at Doyle - who discreetly pointed which tunnel to take. Xander headed down it. Doyle took rearguard and Wesley stumbled along between them.

*********

It was a twisted combination of heightened senses and human awkwardness that provided them with their first real break. Wesley slipped in some slime and put a hand out to steady himself - it came away from the wall red and sticky. His exclamation had Doyle and Xander stopping to examine his hand. It was Xander who provided an answer to his unspoken question.

"Blood."

Doyle briefly shifted into demonic form to sniff it. "Human."

Wesley eyed his hand in disgust. "Would any one object if I wiped it off?" No one answered as they were already combing the area for further clues. Wesley tried to find a clean patch of wall to wipe his hand against. Eventually, he gave up. Grimacing, he wiped his hand clean on his trousers. "Look, I hate to be the one to pick fault," he began.

"Surely you jest," Xander muttered.

Wesley continued as if he hadn't heard: "-But why are we devoting so much time to this discovery, when in all likelihood it's the blood of some unfortunate vampire victim."

"There's only two things wrong with that," said Doyle. "One - vampires don't usually like to waste this much of the red stuff." He trailed his finger down the wall to indicate the size of the bloodstain. "Whoever hit this wall was bleeding out. We're talking serious damage here. Now mebbe the vamp wasn't feelin' all that peckish. It could have just been working off the agro - but then, where's the body? They don't usually do clean-up patrol."

"You said two things. What was the other?"

Doyle held up some broken fragments. "This."

Xander looked at what Doyle had found. "A radio?" he guessed.

"Once upon a time," said Doyle. "It's not all here. My guess is they tried to tidy up after themselves and missed this bit."

"They?" Wesley echoed.

"The Initiative," said Xander, fear constricting his heart.

"Isn't that a bit of a leap?" Wesley reasoned. "This is a sewer. All manner of refuse ends up here."

"Except this isn't that old," said Doyle. "Mebbe it's a little slime infested, but I bet beneath all this muck it's spic and shiny. An' I might not be soldier-boy, but this suggests military issue to me." He handed it to Wesley.

Wesley wandered further down the tunnel to stand in the faint strips of sunlight from a grate. He tried to wipe away the grime from the fragmented remains. Doyle was right; it didn't look like it had been down here very long, nothing was encrusted or corroded. The exposed circuitry looked high-tech and the outer casing was plain, with no sign of a manufacturer's mark or logo.

Finding nothing else of interest, Doyle and Xander abandoned their search to join him. "Your assumption may have some foundation," Wesley told them. "The Initiative could have gathered that sewers provide the perfect access for creatures requiring the cover of darkness to move around. If they are staking out these tunnels that would certainly explain Spike and Angel's disappearance."

Xander stared blankly at the radio fragments; his mind replaying the image of a naked, screaming Spike being tortured by Initiative scientists. He pushed the image away and looked at Doyle. "We have to get them back."

Doyle nodded. "I think I know a way."

Part Fifteen

"This is not a good plan," said Xander. They had returned to the apartment to gather together a few things; weapons mainly. Xander was currently engaged in trying to talk some sense into his friend. He wanted Spike and Angel back, but not this way. "And are you even listening to me?"

"I'm listening," said Doyle, without looking.

Xander grabbed Doyle's arm, turning him around to face him. "You're gonna get yourself killed," he argued desperately.

Stony-faced, Doyle stared at the fingers clutching his arm, and then at Xander. "I only have one question. How badly do you want him back?"

Xander let go as if stung. "W-what?"

"How badly do you want Spike back," said Doyle slowly.

"That's not fair." Xander's eyes narrowed as his voice dropped. "I'd cut out my own fucking heart if I thought it would help."

Doyle lowered his gaze, and then looked up again. "I know," he said softly. "You wanna know how come I know? Cos I'd do the same thing for Angel. Yeah, this is a crazy idea. But I don't see what else we can do. We've been striking out trying to track down these guys."

Xander's fingers found Doyle's. "Don't die," he pleaded.

Doyle squeezed back tightly. "Don't plan on it." They headed upstairs. Where Wesley was waiting with a concerned-looking Cordelia.

"I have to say, I have my reservations about this idea," said Wesley.

"What idea?" Cordelia chimed in. "Will somebody please tell me what's going on."

Doyle opened his mouth.

Cordelia scowled. "Don't even think of starting with that 'no time to explain, princess - don't worry your pretty head'. I want answers."

Xander gave her them. "The bottom line is; if we want to find The Initiative, we have to give them a reason to crawl out of the woodwork."

"A quarry to pursue," said Wesley.

Cordelia remained nonplused.

"A demon to hunt," said Doyle.

"A demon?" But where are you going to…" Her voice trailed off as Doyle's expression filled in the rest. "I'm getting this all wrong, right? You're not really going to use yourself as bait." She thumped Doyle in the chest. "Are you completely nuts!?"

"Take it easy, princess."

"Don't princess me - you…you…Irishman." Cordelia's voice rose in tearful anger. "We've already lost Spike and Angel. Now you want to hand yourself over to them too. What is it with you men? Can't you come up with any plans that don't involve acts of gross stupidity?"

"I would like to point out that I-"

"-Shut up, Wesley." Cordelia eventually calmed down when a scared looking Shekaa came over to see why she was upset. The little girl tried to comfort her. "Oh, sssh. It's all right," Cordelia assured the girl. "I'm just mad with these idiots, who can't rescue somebody without risking life and limb."

"Hey," Doyle objected. "I'm not exactly danglin' myself on a string here. This plan has a bit more to it than that."

"Feel free to share the details," said Cordelia with false sweetness. She sat down and lifted Shekaa onto her lap.

"Fine," said Doyle. "Er, you might want to-" He waved a hand toward Shekaa.

"What?"

"Hide her eyes," Doyle suggested.

"Why would I-?" Cordelia shook her head. "Never mind. Wesley, please tell Shekaa to close her eyes for a minute." Wesley did. Shekaa blinked in confusion and then shut her eyes trustingly, screwing them up tight. "Okay, demon-boy. Show us whatcha got."

Doyle bristled at her use of Spike's taunt. He set his mouth into a thin smile and then shifted into his demon guise. Taking hold of his head with both hands he twisted it violently. There was a sickening crunch - as his neck achieved an angle no living human could accomplish. Cordelia screamed and jumped, nearly toppling Shekaa off her lap. The little girl clung on tightly to the young woman's top and buried her face against Cordelia's chest. Xander pulled a 'euww' expression. Wesley looked away. Doyle wrenched his head back with the same stomach-churning sound effects.

Cordelia lowered her hand from her mouth and swallowed before speaking. "That was totally gross. You are never, I repeat never, to do that anywhere near me. Not ever again." She took a deep breath and hugged Shekaa. Feeling the tremors shaking the girl, Cordelia frowned. "Wesley. I think we may have freaked her a little here. Can you-" She nodded her head toward Shekaa. Wesley knelt down and tried to reassure the girl that all was well. Shekaa opened her eyes and looked around her nervously.

"Chirrup."

Xander caught the frog neatly as it dropped in front of him. "Perfect timing, Kermit." He passed the frog on to Shekaa - who accepted it with a big smile.

"While I'm sure that little party trick must have had them beating a path to your door," said Cordelia. "I don't see how it fits in with the big plan."

"How it fits," Doyle explained, "is that I can slow my breathin' an' heart rate down. Enough that hopefully these guys will take one look at my party trick an' make me for dead. With a bit of luck they'll whisk me off to the local demon morgue. An' since the only demons in there should be of the goin'-nowhere kind, the security should be pretty lax. I get out an' track down Angel an' Spike."

"That's your big plan?" Cordelia shook her head. "That's even dumber than I thought it was going to be."

"It does rather rely on them believing that you are dead," said Wesley. "And subsequently choosing not to perform an autopsy immediately, or simply advocating to dispose of your remains."

"Look, it'll work. Let's try an' generate a little optimism here, yeah? Besides, you're gonna be there to make a save if something does go wrong."

Cordelia pinned her ex-boyfriend with an inquiring gaze.

Xander shrugged awkwardly. "Wes and me are gonna be tailing Doyle. After we get the location of the base, we'll go in and help with the rescue."

"You'll go in," Cordelia's tone was heavy on the sarcasm. "What - you're going to knock on the door and they're just going to let you in?"

"I've got something in mind that'll help," Doyle mumbled. "We're gonna pick it up now."

"What?" Cordelia demanded.

Wesley and Xander looked equally curious - they'd been told about this, but not what exactly. However, Doyle was playing it cagey. "Listen, we really don't have time to go through all this now. The clock's tickin', yeah. We've gotta go." He backpedaled toward the door. Xander was right with him, tugging Wesley along.

Cordelia bit down on her bottom lip, a knot tightening in her stomach. She glanced across at Shekaa and forced a smile onto her face as she joined the little girl and her frog.

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