Enemy Incognito

By Wynn

Chapter Thirty-Two: Sunnydale

The candles burned low, shedding a muted golden glow on the wrinkled sheets covering the king sized bed and on the two occupants twisted around each other in the cream colored bedding. Lilah groaned as she disentangled herself from Wesley, feeling her sore but satisfied muscles twinge in all the right places. She rolled over and grasped the half filled wine glass sitting on the oak nightstand beside her bed and drank down the remaining claret liquid.

"Who do you think left those pictures of you at Wolfram and Hart?"

"You're not one for quietly basking in the afterglow, are you Wesley?" Lilah asked as she turned back towards him. His face was cast in shadow, but the candlelight illuminated the thick scar traveling across his neck, stretching from his larynx to just below his ear. It was the death knell of his high morals and helping the hopeless mantra that Lilah had found amusing and pathetic and irritating, and the beginning of his descent into the morally ambiguous greyness in which she lived and breathed.

He tilted his head towards her, his face impassive, eyes devoid of any emotion. "The only glow in the room, Lilah, is the one from the candles."

"I see your transformation into a soulless bastard is now complete," she said, a wry smirk on her face.

"Thanks to you."

Lilah shook her head as she swung her legs off the bed. "No. All I did was show you the path. You willingly decided to walk that way."

"That I did." Wesley pushed himself into a sitting position and ran a hand over his mussed hair. He watched her walk across the darkened bedroom to the closet and pull out a black robe. As she slipped the cool silk over her body, he said, "Maybe your colleagues at Wolfram and Hart have picked up on your extracurricular activities."

"I doubt they would be concerned. I think this is more of an inside job."

"Retaliation for your arrogant display at our last meeting?"

A wicked smile appeared on Lilah's face as she conjured up memories of the last meeting of the Inner Circle. Twenty minutes late for a two minute meeting during which she laughed at the so-called power of the secret group, laughed at the 'man in charge' and his petty concern with his non-existent authority, and laughed as she threatened to expose the Circle to her bosses at Wolfram and Hart before waltzing out of the hall with a spring in her step and a smile on her face. A little power play to let the group, especially the self-appointed leader, know that she answered to no one and that she was a part of this scheme to take over the Hellmouth because she chose to be, to fulfill her own ambitions and desires instead of the wants and wishes of the other five members composing the Circle.

"I wouldn't say it was retaliation," Lilah said, returning to the bed. "More like an attempt to save face after the last meeting. He won't do anything serious because he needs me for this plan to work."

"Just as he knows that you won't expose the Circle to Wolfram and Hart because the second you did so they would swoop down on the Hellmouth, and all of your plans would go up in smoke."

"True," Lilah said, leaning against the brass headboard of her bed. Her dark eyes flickered to the open bedroom door as her mind flashed back to the unpleasant arrival of Buffy, Cordelia, and Fred. "So that was Buffy? I expected something more… substantial."

"Don't underestimate her. She's confronted and defeated more evil during her reign as the Slayer than even you can imagine."

Arching an eyebrow, Lilah looked at Wesley. "If you're so confident in her abilities, then why are you working against her?"

His smile was enigmatic, his eyes shrouded in mystery, and his voice was flat and level, betraying nothing of his inner motivations for plotting against Buffy and company. "I have my reasons."

"I'm sure you do, Wesley," Lilah said as the faint chirping of her phone sounded through the tiny apartment. "I'm sure you do." She crossed the bedroom, stopping before a slim table beside the door. She lifted the portable phone from the receiver and pressed the talk button. "Morgan."

"Ms. Morgan? It's Jeffery. In Sunnydale."

"Yes?"

"Mossino didn't check in at the house like he was supposed to yesterday, so I stopped by his place. It's completely trashed. The camera's gone and his office was broken into."

Cradling the phone against her shoulder, Lilah flashed Wesley a small smile and walked out of her bedroom. "Did you find the tape?"

"No, ma'am. The file cabinets had been searched too, and the tape is gone."

Irritation welled within her as her grip tightened on the phone. She shouldn't have left the cassette tape with Tyler, but the risk of discovery would have been greater if it had remained in her possession. "Where is he? Have you found him yet?"

"No, ma'am. He's disappeared. There was an ambulance call to his place a few nights ago. The report says a young brunette woman was treated for minor injuries from a mugging. She was released into the care of Rupert Giles."

The brunette must have been Faith. So Tyler was either dead or captured by the Do Gooder Brigade in Sunnydale. Lilah sighed. The man always had more balls than brains, so she wasn't surprised he had gotten himself killed or captured by Faith. "Keep looking for him. And have someone watch Revello. I don't want anymore surprises, alright?"

"Yes, Ms. Morgan."

Turning off the phone, Lilah walked over to her couch and sat down upon the supple brown leather. Had Buffy already listened to the tape and known about Wesley's involvement when she, Fred, and Cordelia traipsed through the apartment? Maybe the interrogation was a ruse to ascertain whether she and Wesley were here, and Buffy would soon be back with reinforcements to try to capture them.

Lilah ran a hand through her thick auburn hair. The situation in Sunnydale was spinning out of her control. The incident with Tyler and the tape was unexpected but not disastrous. It just made things a bit more unpredictable. The Slayer and her cohorts knew about her involvement in the assassination attempts; they knew the job at Mossino's had been a set up from the beginning; they knew about Wesley's participation in recent events; and they knew about the existence of the house on Mullholland Drive. Lilah pursed her lips as she pushed off the couch. Yes, things were about to get very interesting.

Maybe it was time for her to pay another visit to the Hellmouth.

She walked back to her bedroom, entering just as Wesley replaced his cell phone in the pocket of his charcoal pants. He slid his navy shirt on, buttoning the two halves of the shirt together as he said, "A meeting has been called in Sunnydale. He wants to commence with the next phase of the plan immediately."

One corner of Lilah's mouth curved up into a smug smirk as she placed the portable phone onto its receiver. "My thoughts exactly."

* * *

"You know if you keep frowning like that your face will be frozen in brood mode forever."

Silence.

Suppressing an eye roll, Spike shifted in his seat and stared out the passenger window of the Angel Mobile. The night drenched expressway zoomed past the speeding automobile in a blur of black asphalt and yellow lines. Spike, Angel, Gunn, and Connor were in the monstrosity Angel appropriated as his car, halfway to Sunnydale, with Buffy, Cordelia, Fred, and Lorne following in Joyce's SUV. Spike's blue eyes darted to the side mirror, locking onto the reflected form of the jeep, and once again he wished he was back there with Buffy instead of stuck here next to Peaches. But after a quick search of Lilah's apartment turned up neither the lawyer bint nor the turncoat ex-Watcher, the decision had been made to return to Sunnydale, and Cordelia, Lorne, and Fred had drug Buffy towards the SUV claiming the need for girl talk. Which was a tad absurd considering one-fourth of the party was neither girl nor human, but one death glare from Cordelia had quelled Spike's need to comment upon the minute technicalities.

Leaning back against the headrest, his thoughts drifted to the conversation on the rooftop. Buffy loved him. She loved him, and she had told him so. She said the words he never thought she would ever say to him, ever thought she would feel for him, and he felt like crying from the exquisite joy of hearing those three simple, complex words come out of her luscious mouth. Despite the mutual declaration of their love for one another, Spike knew the status of his relationship with Buffy was still up in the air. Were they officially 'together' now? What did 'together' mean anyway? Candy, flowers, maybe regular, normal dates that normal, human couples go on? How would they explain their relationship to Dawn and Rupert and Red and the Whelp? Would they even tell the others about their relationship, whatever it may be?

But instead of sitting next to his love, chatting about the details of their intricately complex relationship, Spike had to sit next to a sullen, cranky, and irritable Master Vampire with a martyrdom complex.

"We have forty-five minutes to go, Angelus," Spike said, twisting in his seat to face Angel again, "so you had better stop the cave man routine or I'll be forced to sing One Hundred Bottles of Beer on the Wall."

More silence.

Spike sighed. He glanced in the rear view mirror. Angel's kid was slouched against one side of the back seat, his permanently scowling face focused on some undoubtedly uninteresting thing on the floorboards. Spike swore the kid only had one facial expression- seriously brassed off. Gunn lounged on the opposite side of the seat, his arms folded across his chest, giving Angel a run for his money in the 'meditating intensely' department. The ex-Watcher's involvement in the attacks on Buffy, Faith, and the others had pissed off Angel and Gunn more than it had angered Buffy, and they hadn't even been the ones targeted by this Wesley bloke. There was too much 'serious thinking' about circumstances beyond their control, which accomplished nothing save to make everyone completely miserable.

It was time to break the brood bubble encasing the Angel Mobile.

Spike hummed the first few bars of One Hundred Bottles as he glanced at Angel out of the corners of his eyes. The elder vampire's hands tightened around the steering wheel, so Spike hummed louder. Angel's eyes narrowed and Spike sang stanzas 98 through 94. As he closed out the 90s, Spike heard Gunn sigh and shift in his seat, his foot not so delicately digging into the back of Spike's seat. 89, 88, and 87 passed, and Spike swore he could see one of Angel's eyes begin to twitch. Bottle number 86 came down and was passed around, and Angel exploded.

"Would you please shut the fuck up, William?!? You can be so goddamn irritating! You're like a fucking kid with ADHD hyped up on speed!"

"You do know that stimulants have a calming effect on kids with ADHD," Spike said quietly.

"That's it." Angel slammed on the brakes and the car slid to a halt in the middle of the interstate. He patted the pockets of his jacket as he said, "Where's my damn stake?"

Spike's eyes widened slightly as Gunn passed a stake to Angel. Swiveling in his seat, he shot a glare at Gunn and said, "Thank you very much."

"Should've stopped at 90 bottles."

In his peripheral vision, Spike saw Angel raise the stake. He threw open the passenger door and scrambled out onto the highway as Angel climbed across the front seat and followed him out of the car. Spike backed away from the car, blue eyes darting from Angel to the SUV, which had come to a stop behind the Angel Mobile. Angel lunged for Spike again, and Spike darted to the side, kicking the brunette in the chest and sending him crashing against the hood of the car. The stake fell out of Angel's hand and rolled underneath the car as Buffy and Cordelia approached the dueling duo.

"What the hell is going on here?" Buffy asked as she stepped between Spike and Angel.

"Anger management," Spike said, pulling Buffy out of the way and facing Angel again. "Peaches is in the middle of a hissy fit about the Watcher, feeling all broody and guilty." He grunted as Angel tackled him, and the two vampires rolled across the vacant interstate, smashing against the steel guardrail. Spike shoved Angel off him and climbed to his feet, dodging another one of Angel's lunges.

"I do not have hissy fits, boy," Angel said as he stood, wiping the highway grime off of his hands.

Spike raised one eyebrow. "Could've fooled me. Are you going to stop brooding about something you had absolutely no control over and calm the fuck down? There was no way you could've known about this bloke's part in the attacks, so stop feeling guilty about it. You being an insufferable prat is not the way to help."

Cordelia moved in front of Angel. "Spike's right. Wes is his own man. You're not responsible for the choices he makes." They faced off for a few moments, arms folded across their chests, faces locked in stubborn glares, silent communication passing between them. Eventually, Angel sighed and uncrossed his arms. Cordelia smiled triumphantly and escorted him back to his car. She pointed towards the driver's seat as she said, "Now, get back in the car like a good vampire so Buffy can continue telling us all about kissing Spike." Cordelia shoved Angel into the car and closed the door behind him, then returned to the SUV.

A nervous giggle escaped Buffy's lips, countering the murderous gleam in her eyes. "That Cordelia. She always knows how to induce maximum embarrassment with minimum effort."

Tilting his head to the side, Spike stepped closer to Buffy. A grin tugged at the corners of his mouth. "So what exactly did you say about kissing me?"

"I said-"

"Buffy! Come on!" Cordelia honked the horn once, her fingers drumming impatiently across the steering wheel.

Relief flooded Buffy's hazel eyes. "Gotta go. See you soon. Bye." She turned and nearly sprinted for the SUV. When Buffy was halfway to the jeep, Fred stuck her head out of one of the back windows.

"She said she likes the thing you do with your tongue," Fred said as Cordelia and Lorne burst into laughter inside the jeep.

Eyes widening to saucer proportions, Buffy's head snapped towards Spike, and her skin turned a deep shade of red. Struggling to maintain a calm composure, Spike crossed the distance between them and brushed a strand of her golden hair behind her ear. His mouth curved into a smile as he said, "You told them about the thing with the tongue?"

"Um… yeah. I kind of had to because, you see, Cordelia said she thought Angel kissed better than you, so I had to prove her, you know, wrong." Her eyes flickered down to the ground. When she looked at Spike again, a mischievous glint shone in her eyes and a smirk pulled at her ruby lips. "Cordelia's all jealous."

"Really now."

"Yep. None of her boyfriends ever did that. Not even Angel."

"Is that what I am?" he asked softly. "Your boyfriend?"

Staring up at him, hazel eyes wide, illuminated by the headlights of the cars and the streetlights lining the interstate, Buffy said, "I don't know. Is that what you want to be?"

"Is that what you want me to be?"

"Are you always going to answer a question with a question?"

He laughed and ducked his head, looking at her from beneath his lashes. "Probably." The SUV's horn sounded again, closely followed by a blast from the Angel Mobile. Spike tilted his head in the direction of Joyce's jeep and said, "You should get back before Cordelia drags you off again."

"Yeah." She stared at him for a moment longer before she walked to the SUV. Buffy paused by the passenger door and turned back towards Spike. Meeting his eyes, she said, "I think that's what I want you to be."

"I think that's what I want me to be, too."

* * *

Opening the front door, Dawn stared out at Angel. She raised one eyebrow as a small, strained smile appeared on his face and then she slammed the door shut, giggling softly as she heard Angel's sigh of exasperation through the wood slab. Leaning back against the door, Dawn pulled up the sleeve of her shirt and glanced at the watch adorning her wrist, counting silently as ten seconds ticked by.

"Dawn? What are you doing?"

She looked up at Giles, an ecstatic grin creasing her face. "Seeing how long it takes him to knock again. Once, when he and Buffy were still dating, he waited two whole minutes. He just stood out there and stared at the door." Her grin faded under Giles' stoic stare, and she stifled an eye roll and heaved a world weary, tragic sigh. "Fine. Just know you're breaking a long standing tradition here." Turning back to the door, Dawn pulled it open again. "Hello, Angel!" she said, her voice bright with false cheer. "How nice to see you again! You're not evil, are you?"

Angel blinked. "No, Dawn. I'm not evil."

Cordelia appeared behind Angel, threading her arm through his and grasping his hand. "He's just a bit cranky today, Dawn." She patted Angel's arm with her free hand and rolled her eyes as he growled softly. "You're not mad. You're just sulking because Spike kicked your ass."

"One, I am not sulking. I do not sulk. Why does everyone keep saying I sulk, pout, brood, mope, and have hissy fits?"

"Do you really want me to answer that?"

Ignoring Cordelia's remark, Angel continued, "And two, Spike did not kick my ass."

Cordelia nodded. "You're right. He did not kick your ass. He kicked you in the chest and knocked you on your ass."

Dawn coughed to smother a laugh as Angel sighed again and rubbed a hand across his forehead. Another person to join the Torment Angel Ceaselessly Club. She had already gotten Faith and Anya to join, with Willow, Giles, Emilia, and Clem politely bowing out, and Dawn knew Spike was a lifelong member, but nobody could snark and annoy like Cordelia.

"Dawn, can I come in?"

Flashing Angel a bright smile, Dawn said, "Sure. Your invite is still valid, so you could have come in at any time."

One corner of his mouth quirked into a smirk as he and Cordelia crossed the threshold and moved into the Summers' home. "Thank you, Dawn."

"You're welcome, Angel." Turning to Cordelia, Dawn slung her uninjured arm around Cordy's neck and gave her a hug. "Hey, Cordy."

"Hey, Dawn." Cordelia pulled out of the hug, her dark eyes examining Dawn's sling for a moment. Her gaze hardened at the sight of the soft cast encasing Dawn's arm.

"It's no big," Dawn said as she pushed Cordelia and Angel towards the living room. "Just a sprain. I should be sling-less in another week or so. Everyone's in there. Grab a chair if you can find one." She turned back to the open front door as a thin brunette and massive bald-headed black guy appeared at the threshold. "You two must be Fred and Gunn. I'm Dawn. Buffy's my sister."

Fred nodded and held out her hand to Dawn. "It's a pleasure to meet you."

"Likewise." As Dawn shook Fred's hand, she tilted her head towards the dining room and said to Gunn, "You can put your battle-ax in the dining room if you want. We moved all the weapons chests in there so there would be enough space in the living room for everyone to sit."

"Thanks."

Dawn moved onto the bottom step of the stairs to allow Fred and Gunn and Gunn's battle-ax to enter the dining room. As she turned her gaze back to the open door, she saw the coolest looking demon ever. His suit was cerulean and made out of a soft shiny material, and his shirt was scarlet silk. The tie was a swirl of colors, reminding Dawn of the Jackson Pollock paintings she studied in art class a few years ago.

"This must be the enchanting Dawn," Lorne said as he laid a kiss on the back of Dawn's hand.

"Yep. That's me. Enchanting Dawn. And you're Lorne."

"You are correct, milady," Lorne said, moving into the entryway. "You have a lovely home, Dawn."

"Thank you. My mom did the decorating. She owned an art and antique gallery, so she had access to all sorts of cool stuff."

His crimson eyes softened as he lightly grasped Dawn's hand. "Your mother had extraordinary taste."

Dawn nodded, a wisp of a smile curving her lips. "Yes, she did. Thank you. Everyone's in the living room. Make yourself at home." She directed Lorne towards the living room, her blue eyes darting back to the entrance and locking onto a pair of sullen brown. Her gaze flickered to the living room and landed briefly on Angel before returning to the boy before her. Ah. Angel's kid. It was freaky enough that Angel had a kid, let alone the fact that Connor was a mirror image of Angel, right down to the same brooding scowl adorning his features.

Dawn waved. "I'm Dawn. Welcome to Sunnydale." Connor didn't say anything. He shuffled from one foot to the other, his dark gaze flickering from the straw mat on the porch, to Dawn's face, and down to his hands. Oooo-kay. Buffy didn't mention he was non-verbal, although Dawn doubted being raised in a demon dimension encouraged sparkling conversation skills. "You can come in, if you want to."

Silent, Connor slipped inside the house. He frowned as he noticed the sling on Dawn's arm. His dark eyes peered at her through his long hair; his gaze was intense, his eyes the color of melted chocolate, and Dawn felt a slight flutter shoot through her stomach. "I'm Connor," he said.

"Dawn. That's, um, me. But I already said that, didn't I? Everyone's right over there but if you're thirsty or anything, the kitchen's in the back of the house. We have water and more water and maybe a bit of leftover blood, which you probably wouldn't want seeing as how you're not a vampire." Open mouth, insert foot. Way to babble, Dawn.

His mouth curved into a lopsided grin and he mumbled, "Thanks," before slipping into the living room.

Dawn forced herself not to blush as she stepped out of the house. Spike stood at the edge of the porch, his blue eyes wide and focused on the open door. She heard Buffy murmur something to Spike and reach for his hand, but he shook his head softly, taking a step back from the porch. Brows drawing together in concern, Dawn wondered why he was reluctant to enter the house. Since his return to Sunnydale, chipless and soulful, he had been inside her and Buffy's house, staying the night after the attack by the assassins outside the Bronze. Whatever the reason for the current hesitation, it could be dealt with later. Dawn plastered a bright smile on her face as she walked down the porch towards Buffy and Spike.

"Spike," Dawn said as she laid the teenage grip of death on his hand and began to pull him towards the door, "I am soooo glad you are here. Giles ruined my ritual Angel greeting, so I need to make up for it with lots of snark. I have some comments lined up about Angel's hair and funny walk, 'cause you know he sort of looks like Quasimodo, all hunched over and broody, but they are so yesterday's insults. I need some really good ones."

Over Spike's shoulder, she caught Buffy's eye. Her sister mouthed 'Thank you' as she followed Dawn and Spike across the porch. Dawn shrugged and turned her attention back to Spike. "And I know you know something really embarrassing about Angel that would be perfect." She glanced up at him and found his gaze locked on something in the doorway. Dawn followed Spike's line of sight and sighed at the man blocking their way into her home.

Xander leaned against the doorjamb, eyes hard with hatred, arms folded across his chest, stake held lightly in one hand.

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