Silent Reverie

by cloudofcalm

 

Arrivals

The old van was hot, although all the windows were rolled down. The brilliant sunshine was beating down, as green palm trees flashed past, as he trundled along the highway. Absently, he beat out a rhythm against the battered steering wheel, and hummed an old tune.

Oz yawned sleepily, raking his fingers through the soft red spikes of his hair. He glanced at his watch. He was making good time, he would reach L.A before sundown. Although his experiences now made himself confident he could control himself, on a full moon he still liked to be inside.

[Last time I saw Angel, Cordelia, was three years ago. Ring thing. Willow.]

The string of thought had, inevitably, brought him back to Willow. Oz sighed as he recalled the last occasion he'd seen her. He'd come back, so sure he could now be with her, and-

Since Willow, he'd had a few girlfriends. Where he was studying, up in the mountains, there were other students, also cursed with lycanthropy. His lips quirked in a small, Oz-like smile as he remembered Amy, the Australian werewolf he'd met there.

Still, sex and love were entirely different. With Willow, it had been very different.

Sitting back in his seat, Daniel Osborne settled in for a few more hours driving.

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ` *

"Sorry to disappoint, Wes, but no evil schemes," Lilah Morgan smiled slowly, as she pulled the covers up over herself, and lay back, staring at the ceiling. The ex Watcher had his hands folded behind his head.

"I didn't ask, Lilah," he reminded her.

"Oh, but I can see that you so desperately wanted to know," she drawled lazily. "What's up, Wes? The lamb still trying to buy its way back into the fold?"

"Quite the contrary, Lilah," he answered, with a small smile of his own. She rolled over to face him, propping her head up on her elbow, surrounded by the burgundy sheets.

"So what is it? Normally when you come around to get down and dirty-" she let the sentence hang, then smiled, a little more cruelly. "Well. Not that it isn't *always* dirty. But then, today was particularly-"

"Shut up," Wesley snapped, cutting her off. She laughed throatily, tossing back her head in mirth.

"Oh Wesley, Wesley," she shook her head, "*Now* it gets under your skin? Just so happens that's where I'd like to be," she mused, tracing a swirling pattern across his chest. He caught her hand, and she looked up, big brown eyes blinking through the sooty lashes, a mock innocent look. Lilah Morgan hadn't been innocent for a very long time.

'If you must know," he said, over his shoulder, as he swung his legs over the edge of the bed, and began to tug on his clothes, "It was an escape. Too many people at the hotel." He allowed himself a smirk. "Besides. You always were good at what you do best."

Outraged, the lawyer sat up, wrapping the dark sheet around her breasts, her hair tumbling across her shoulders, as she glared at him.

"So you've scratched your itch, is that it?"

"Precisely," he answered calmly, fastening his belt buckle.

"And you're just going to walk out? You called me out of a very important meeting you know," she began angrily, sounding flustered.

He shrugged, and opened the door.

"Isn't that what you do to me?" he asked simply, closing it behind himself.

~*~

Jane walked back and forth across the carpet of the abandoned office, her skinny arms folded.

"Why do I have to do it?' she demanded.

"Because you're the youngest," Jess told her bossily. "And Faye is a Potential. We need the practise."

"Fine. But I get to be the Slayer next time," Jane grouched. She led the way into the deserted lobby, except for the teenaged Destroyer, making various cuts in the air, with a sword.

"Go on!" Jess hissed. Jane took a deep breath, and then, snarling, the little girl launched herself at the boy with a yell. Connor spun around, off balance, as he was knocked over by 60 pounds of skinny eight-year-old, growling fiercely.

"That just proves my point," Jess muttered under her breath, as she led the other two into attack.

"Hey vampire," she yelled. Jane looked up from her apparent savagement of Connor's neck.

"You're in trouble," Jess folded her arms, lifting her chin. "Because I'm the Slayer."

"So what are we, chopped liver?" Faye mumbled from behind her.

Jane stood up slowly, frowning.

"What are you doing?" Jess asked, bemused.

"Vampy face," Jane explained as if it was obvious.

"Oh. Right." Jess resumed her fighting stance, stake clutched tight.

"Die, evil vampire!" she yelled, running at Jane. The little girl shrieked, and ran for the stairs, laughing.

"I'm gonna slay you!" Jess promised, chasing after her, Gabby and Faye in hot pursuit.

"Guess I really have been out of the slaying game," a drawling voice commented. Jess got to her feet, hauling Gabby up, as Faye picked herself up.

"You gotta be careful with that," Faith nodded in the direction of the stake. "Hurt someone, if you don't know what you're doing. " she considered her statement a moment, and then laughed sadly. "Hell, even if you know what you're doing."

"Faith, right?" Jess folded her arms, a hostile expression crossing her face.

The brunette Slayer gave the girl a quick appraising look.

"Either B's dead, and you're really short for your age, or you're not a Slayer. So don't run around with these things," she lifted a lip, plucking the stake out of Jess's hands.

"Faith?" Faith turned at the familiar voice, her hazel eyes focusing on his face, her brown hair swinging out behind her as she pivoted.

"Angel?" The vampire's steady gaze told her nothing.

"Look, we need to talk," she began, and stopped, looking around at the younger girls. "Somewhere without Santa's elves?"

Angel nodded slightly. "You hungry?"

"Yeah," she replied shortly. He walked out of the room, and she followed.

"Faith. Guess she'd know about stake safety," Jess muttered, sneering at the departing rogue Slayer.

"Shut up, Jessamy," Gabby suddenly spoke up, turning around, and walking off. Jess stared after her, and then glared at Faye, who shrugged.

"Don't look at me."

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

"So," Angel began casually, as he used the spatula to shift the French toast from the pan to the plate. "Why are you out?"

"See, that's why I'm here," Faith cut herself a piece off the toast, and forked it up. "I don't know."

Angel's eyebrows lifted, and he seated himself at the table, watching the famished Slayer eat.

"Fee like elaborating on that?" he questioned. She swallowed.

"I'm in jail, right? An' every morning, they do this drill, like, they let everyone out into the yard, then they let me out. Same time. Every day. So I'm waitin' for them to show, do their thing, y'know. And then outta nowhere, I get hit. Black out. Then last night, I woke up. It was way weird. Hospital. Anderson general, if you want to check. Even had a needle in my arm, and everything. Heard people talkin' outside my room, sayin' I was dangerous, and something about a blood sample. Decided I wanted the hell out of there, so came to you." She finished, and lifted another forkful of food to her mouth.

"Blood sample?" he repeated, thinking. She nodded.

'Shway freaksh," she said, through a mouthful. She gulped. "Way freakish. They have my blood on record at the Penitary. So why do they need more of it? Why get me out of jail to do it?"

"Unless they're not connected with the jail," he filled in. She smiled.

"Always knew you were quick, Angel. S'why I'm here. I coulda gone back there, I s'pose, but I thought, if they, whoever the hell wanted my blood, could get me out of jail, me going back there wouldn't solve anything. They'd have had to sort records 'cause otherwise, my escape would be on the news seein' as I'm a convicted murderer. But there's no news. Nothing. So I'm out, somehow."

"Angel, why is she sitting in our kitchen?" Cordelia's voice was icy from the doorway, as she stood there, her arms folded. Angel hurriedly stood, Faith taking a last bite of the French toast before she stood as well.

"Hey Cor. Nice hair," Faith commented, with a smile. Cordelia lifted an eyebrow, and turned to Angel.

"Much as I appreciate our manifesto, help the helpless, Faith isn't helpess. We've tried this before, remember? And she tortured people. Wesley is part of the team, Angel. And why the hell you've broken a felon out of jail, I really don't know."

"You've never gotten over me screwing Xander first, have you?" Faith mused, breaking into the tension. Cordelia glared at her. Faith smirked.

"Look, Cor, as far as you and Angel goes, great, I'm happy for you. But Angel didn't bust me out of jail, I was sprung by someone with a thing for my blood. I'm here because there's nowhere else to go, alright?"

"Blood?" the seer repeated.

"Yeah. Blood taken out of me in the-" Faith answered, but Cordelia suddenly saw the vision flash in front of her eyes, a memory of the thick smell of blood thrown on a fire, and the slick, red coating a pair of spidery hands. She closed her eyes, trying to hold down her stomach.

"Uh, Angel, Gwen has gone home, she'll be back tomorrow. Wants to look up stuff about this Tool thingie. Jane and the Potentials are in the lobby, Wesley's disappeared, Gunn is out, and Fred is with him. Connor's being pulverised by four little girls," she finished. She moved toward the door, then stopped, and looked straight at Faith. "If you hurt anyone I love, I will kill you."

"Looks like the cheerleader got rocks," Faith commented. Angel looked at her.

"You can stay here. I'll show you a room."

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Faye erased the line, and looked again at the doorframe. Sighing, the tip of her tongue between her teeth, she carefully drew it in again.

"Careful with that. Never know, might bite it off." A quiet voice near her ear made her jump.

"I won't," she answered. Oz gave a little Oz-shrug.

"Okay. But teeth can hurt," he warned.

"Yeah. One day I slipped, and I bit my tongue," she smiled shyly. "It hurt a lot."

"See, biting tongues does that. Not if you bite your elbow though. Or knee."

"Have you bitten your knee?" she asked curiously. Oz shrugged again.

"No. But it's true."

"Sometimes I think drawing is so fun to do, it's easy. And then, there's one line that completely screws it up, and it's hard," she admitted, dropping her eyes to the page.

"I get that. Some chords, guitar," he explained, "are easy. Sound good pretty quick. And then there's some chords, diminished ninth, man's chords. Takes practise. So does drawing."

"I guess so," she replied softly.

"Oz."

The man stood up from his crouch, and nodded almost imperceptibly at Angel.

"Angel."

"You in L.A for a while?"

"No. Looking for a book."

"Which one?"

"Ching's daemona."

"Think we've got it."

"Yeah."

"I can get it."

"Please."

Faye watched them, her head moving back and forth like a tennis viewer.

"You don't talk much, do you?" she asked. Oz shook his head.

"Neither do you," he pointed out. Faye shrugged, and Oz smiled.

"It's late. Do you want to stay?" Angel asked. Oz nodded.

"Full moon."

"It's not dangerous?"

"No. Just a precaution. Fetching Jordy."

"Ah. Show you upstairs. This is Faye, by the way." The vampire gestured to the young girl. Oz raised a hand.

"Hi."

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Starr gingerly let the meat drop into the pan, and heard it begin to sizzle.

"Hello?" Hearing the call, she wiped her greasy hands on the front of her jeans, and walked out, into the lobby. Her eyes widened.

"Starr!"

The young woman's face went pale.

"Sullivan?"

Dream Come True

"Lauren! Lauren, honey, you're going to be late!" the harassed looking man called up the stairs. A little cannonball came hurtling down the stairs.

"Not, Daddy!" the three year old protested, hugging her father's legs. He smiled, and bent to scoop up the wriggling little girl, smoothing the pale brown hair. He planted a kiss on his daughter's forehead, and held her tight. Lauren squirmed.

"I'm hungry, Daddy."

Letting the little girl slide to the floor, he poured out a bowl of cereal for her, and settled Lauren at the table. It wasn't a big room, the house wasn't expensive, but he was used to that. It was a lot nicer than his own, growing up.

Happily munching, Lauren began to play with the loops in her bowl, pushing them around with her spoon.

"Hurry, sweetie, you're going to be late," her father encouraged. Lauren met her eyes and beamed happily, a sweet baby smile.

"Love you, Daddy."

"I love you too, sweetheart," he replied, ruffling his daughter's hair. "Let's get you in the truck."

Happily, Lauren gazed out of the high window, perched on the car seat he had fastened to the passenger side. A faded rug was tossed under it, to catch cookie crumbs, or juice being dropped. She was chirping in her own little made up language as he swung himself easily into the driving seat, and smiled at her. The pretty pink overalls were clean for once, and Lauren looked adorable. Shoving the guitar down, he started the truck, and pulled out of the driveway.

Dropping Lauren off, the child hugged him and dropped a wet kiss on his cheek, and he felt a small pang at letting his little girl go. He leaned against the truck, watching Lauren walk into the building with the pre- school teacher, absently rubbing a scar. At least he'd get her back at three. He started the engine, and drove away, heading to the bar.

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Yawning, the slayer made her way down the stairs, stretching her arms out. She glanced at herself in the mirror hung in the hall, and grimaced. She'd had better days inside the penitary.

Faith fastened the loose button on her shirt, enjoying the slippery feel of the dark blue silk next to her skin, and padded, barefoot into the kitchen. A young man was seated at the table, eating cereal with the newspaper spread out in front of him. Faith glanced up and down. Black hair, in messy waves across his temples. Light build, more the Wes type than Angel, or Gunn. She folded her arms, the shirt riding up over her thighs.

Sullivan looked up, and almost spat out his corn.things. His eyes widened, and he blushed deep red, diverting his eyes. The brunette woman smiled slowly, and cocked an eyebrow.

"Looked enough?" Sully held up a hand, coughing on the remainder of the cereal he'd swallowed the wrong way.

"Er, uh, er," he spluttered, trying not to look. Faith grinned, and hopped up onto the countertop, swinging long legs.

"Not that it matters," she drawled, "But who the hell are you?" The pink in his cheeks had spread to the tips of his ears.

"My name," he replied, carefully not moving his gaze in her direction, "Is Sullivan. Sullivan Reynolds. You know my..my..uh, sister, my sister, Starr."

Faith's smile broadened. Where the hell did they find these English guys, a monastery?

"So you know Wes, right?" she asked. He nodded, picking up the bowl, and shaking out the newspaper in his other hand. He gingerly moved past her, to place the bowl in the sink.

"Yes. Wesley was in his final year when I joined the school. He was, head boy," Sullivan smiled faintly at the memory. "I myself have become a part of the council."

"You know a woman named Philippa? Philippa Austin?" Faith's smile was bitter sweet, and at his apologetic shake of the head, she shrugged. "Hey, no big deal."

"And I thought Gwen looked slutty," Jess muttered, walking into the kitchen, and glancing at the two adults. Sullivan raised an eyebrow at the young girl. Faith shrugged.

"Good morning, Jess," Sully said, wryly. The Potential ignored him, rummaging for a bowl in the cupboard.

"When do you go back to jail?" Jess asked Faith. Faith shrugged.

"How 'bout never?" she asked. Jess looked up.

"Mr Travers said, 'once a convict, always a convict', and that you'd never change. Is it true you broke one of his best operatives arm?" Jess asked sweetly, pouring out the latest sugar-laden cereal.

Sully went pale, looking at the Slayer. Faith just grinned.

"Actually, no. That was B," she answered. Jess scowled.

"But surely if you broke out, you've got to return," Sullivan pointed out, and then looked rather worried, and apologetic when Faith looked towards him. "I mean, it is the law. You did .. murder that man, didn't you?"

"Extenuatin' circumstances," Faith leaned back against the counter, sizing him up. "I didn't break out, I got freed. By whoever the hell wanted Slayer blood. I'm not about to walk back into a cushy little jail cell, while someone's runnin' around with a syringe full of that! I can't."

"Can't, or won't?" The Watcher persisted, getting bolder in his argument.

Jane peeked into the kitchen, and caught the last two sentences. She shivered. The polite, calm voice, 'can't, or won't?', simple question, answer too difficult. She sank down onto the carpet outside, her arms burning as they grazed its surface, lost in thought.

<i>"Jane, come this way please." Scared, the five year old tried to put a hand into the teacher's, and was slapped away.

"No, Jane. Remember?" The little girl nodded.

A big door, the handle high up. The woman turned it. A chair, and a circle painted around it.

"Sit down, Jane."

Obediently, the little girl sat, dwarfed by the large chair. The woman considered, pausing, tapping a long, white finger against the side of her jaw.

"Jane, make this crystal float." The five year old tried to focus on the crystal, the way she'd been told to, but nothing could induce it to float. It sat on the side, doing nothing.

"Make it float." The voice was icy, and crisp, the words bitten off.

Scared, Jane looked up at her pleadingly.

"I can't."

"Can't, or won't? Won't. Make it float."

"I can't!" Jane howled, and instantly, there were sharp cuts, slashing across her magically, thin lines of red across her body, cutting her arms, torso, face, and legs. Terrified, she twisted in the chair, trying to get down, but she was bound in place, and it hurt, it hurt so bad.

"Make it float." The voice was expressionless, Jane closed her eyes tightly, wishing.

'Mommy. Daddy. Please, come get me. Please!'

"They're not coming back." The child's eyes flew open. Violently, she jerked against the magical control, falling back against the chair.

"No!"

"No?" An element of surprise was in the director's voice. She repeated it. "No?"

"They will! They want me! They're coming *back*!"

"They're dead," the adult voice was like a snake, hissing spite. Tears trickled down Jane's cheeks.

"No," she whimpered. The director inspected her nails.

"Make the crystal float, Jane. " Frightened, and hurting, the child tried once again to make the small piece of rock rise, by the tiniest amount. It sits there, motionless.

"I can't!"

Ripples going through her, it was hot, so hot, there were things running up her arms, under her skin, biting her, it hurt, it hurt, it hurt, it hurt!!

The five year old screamed.

Jane's eyes were wide, and unseeing, the pupils dilated. She sat silently, her hand wrapped around and twisting in the chain around her neck tighter and tighter, until the fingers were bloodless.

* ~ * ~ * ~ *

Faith met his gaze dead on.

"I can't. As in, I don't know what they hell they did to get me out of there. But they did, and they pulled a lot of strings to do it. There's no 'murderer on the loose' in the news, nothing to show that I'm out, ooh, people should be scared," she stalked forward, her face in his. "So can't. I'm stuck on the outside, even if I want to go back, sort this 'redemption' thing out once and for all." She glanced at the Potential, who was listening eagerly, a spiteful expression on her face.

"Suddenly, I'm not so hungry," she said shortly, leaving the kitchen.

~ * ~ * ~

"Hello Starr." She paused, her hands on her hips.

"How did you know it was me?"

"Brotherly intuition?" Sully suggested. Starr folded her arms.

"How did you know it was me?" she repeated, arching an eyebrow at her brother. The 19 year old gave her a sheepish grin.

"Fine. Saw you in the mirror." He jerked a thumb toward the mirror, and the door in direct view from the mirror. She sighed, and rolled her eyes.

"Sully, when will you grow up?"

"Possibly never," he answered thoughtfully. She looked around. The small bag he'd brought the previous night was on top of the made bed, a shirt, and suit neatly folded inside.

"What's happening? Aren't you staying?" she asked. He wiped toothpaste from his mouth, and zipped up the washbag.

"No," he shook his head. "I'm needed back there. Watchers being all Watcher- y, we tend to find it distressing if one of our number is, well, unwatchable. I wasn't really supposed to come out here. I thought I'd handed you over to a maniac! Mind you, Jess could take care of any maniac," he added, closing the bag. "She's become even more bloody, if that is possible."

"Oh God," Starr groaned. "It was enough trying to keep her in hand on the journey. Mind you, Wesley isn't insane. A little different, perhaps, to the Wesley you remember."

"Hmm," Sullivan mused, with a wry grin. "I wonder why it is, the Watchers that tend to stray into the grey area of the world always seem to survive, their slayers included, and the ones who stay whiter than white get killed within days?"

Starr snorted. "Because the Watchers are raving mad?"

"Point," Sully answered thoughtfully, then burst out laughing. Starr hugged him tightly.

"Really have to go?" she asked. He nodded.

"Yes."

"I hate the council," she grouched. He chuckled.

"Yes, indeed, I loathe it on occasion. But I do have to go back. This morning, actually," he said apologetically.

"Yeah. I know. Go do the white hat thing," she sighed.

"I'll let myself out. Pass on my thanks to Angel for allowing me to stay the night. I gather he is .. occupied," Sully smiled.

"*That*s what they're calling it?' Starr queried, arching a dark brow.

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Angel watched the dust motes spiral in the thin shard of sunlight peeking between the curtains, and then down at his sleeping over. Cordy was lying flat down on the bed, her face mushed against the pillow, one arm draped across him. He smiled, lying back, but glanced at the clock on the side- table, and groaned.

"Cordy?"

"Aschleep." The automatic fuzzy response made him laugh.

"C'mon Cordy. It's twelve thirty. We've got to get up." Grouchily, the Seer sat up, shrugging off the sheets.

"Why?" she asked, plaintively giving him big, sad, hazel eyes. The vampire felt his resolve melt.

"Because-" he began, trying to remember his reasoning, as she traced a line up his arm with a finger, sprawled on her side, her head propped up with her right arm, swathed in the white linen sheet.

"Because it's late," he answered finally. She pouted.

"It's not *that* late."

"Cordelia," he answered, trying not to laugh, "It's about as late as it gets before afternoon."

She leant back against him.

"Not really. In vampire time, it's like, one in the morning. Can't we make it one in the morning?" she appealed, lightly kissing his jawline.

"I suppose we could consider it," he agreed. She smiled, and trailed a kiss closer.

"And if anyone tries to reach us-"

"We'll just, resist," he finished.

"Not getting up," she nodded decisively. She smirked. "Okay. Maybe just a little."

"Cordy!" he exclaimed. She gave him an innocent look.

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

"Hello? Angel?" the woman walked quickly through the lobby, looking for the vampire. She paused, seeing the little girl seated on the floor, Faye beside her, an arm wrapped around Jane's shoulders, calling Jane's name.

She moved forward, and crouched to Jane's height. Gwen caught the blank look, and the unconscious movement with the necklace, and sat down, with a sigh, placing her fingers over Jane's.

"Hey," she said softly. Jane blinked, and looked at her. Her gaze flickered over her, and then away.

"It's okay, you know,"Gwen said lightly. Jane met her eyes. "You can get it taken off." She fiddled with the tag.

"No, I can't, see, it's welded on," Jane lifted the chain to show her, but Gwen shook her head.

"Nope. Metal can be cut. You can get it cut off, if you want." She watched the little girl's reaction. "You could put the tag on a chain, a real one. Then you could take it off, or wear it. If you wanted."

Faye got up slowly, moving away from the two people. She headed upstairs, still thinking about the lost, blank look in Jane's eyes, deep, and dark.

Gwen paused, hugging her knees to her chest, memories of the place dancing through her mind, making her feel eighteen again, just having escaped. "See, people like us, Jane, we've done a lot. You can see the tags as a kind of.medal.that proves you went through it. You might forget about it when you get older, but the necklace proves you were there."

She smiled at Jane, and said, finally, "Whatever happened, at least we survived."

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

The phone rang in the dusty bar, breaking through the final chords of the music. He strummed the guitar, enjoying the feel of it, as the final note hung in the air. The drinkers gave him a smattering of applause, and the bartender handed him a beer. Taking a swig of the frosty liquid, he felt in glide past his vocal chords, soothing them.

"Mr McDonald?" the woman's voice was husky, throaty with smoke, and drink. He turned.

"Yeah?"

"Phone call."

The regulars watched the man lean easily against the bar, propped up by the long wooden length. His checked shirt was half undone, showing a plain tee shirt underneath, and his blue eyes, the women knew from experience, were unreadable. He had a more cultured accent than most around here, but McDonald didn't give a hell of a lot away. Not many people had a reason for being out here, but that life had given them a rough hand. They sipped their beers, and looked uninterested, until he hung up the phone.

He took off, his guitar left by the bar, running like a bat out of hell for his truck.

"Hey, you forgot-!" the bartender called, but the key was in the ignition, and moments later, the man drove out of the lot.

Arriving at the school, he pulled into the parking lot, leaving the keys in the slot, battered blue door open, as he ran to the front door. A woman met him, apologetic, tears streaming down her face. Ignoring her, he ran past her.

It was easy to find. Paramedics surrounded her, packing up equipment, sliding sympathetic looks at him. It wasn't a pretty sight. Light streaming through the windows, beams coloured by the bright tissue paper stuck there by the kids. Artwork, messy, and sprawling, covered the walls of the hall, and the faint smell of lemons was perceptible, coming from the polish on the wooden floor.

She was lying across the floor, flung out. Her happy go lucky smile was wiped from her face, he couldn't remember a time when she hadn't looked up at him, blue eyes wide, and bright, and the sweet smile had spread across her chubby little face. The overalls and pink tee shirt were spattered with dark red, from three holes crusting over, piercing her throat. Vaguely, in the back of his mind, from the years he'd worn a suit, and been part of 'special projects', he remembered it as a ritual way of taking blood. And the last thing that defiled her, was in each of the upturned palms of the fat little hands, had been burnt a symbol.

His breathing shuddered, and Lindsey jerked, bright blue eyes focused sharply on his daughter, then walked away from it, past her, down the hall, out into the lot, before throwing up.

Fighting Style

Lilah Morgan was seated at her very large, highly polished desk, admiring the very nice view from her very large office. When you had moved from being a just-out-of-law-school-flunky, to 'Head of Special Projects', there were a lot 'of 'very's in life. She sipped an amber liquid in her crystal tumbler, and flipped through a pile of documents requiring attention with her manicured nails.

Leaning back in the chair slightly, she let her mind drift. She had no meetings that afternoon, no clients were coming in until one that morning, so she could afford to relax a bit. Lilah Morgan would never appear in public without looking perfect. It was hard enough holding onto her job. Too many Harvard graduates thinking they could make more money in a demon law firm. Idiots. They took on more Yale than Harvard, anyway.

Without her permission, lazily, her mind drew up the forbidden name, 'Wesley'. Her lips curved in a lascivious smile at the memory of how exactly, she had spent her lunch hour. The ex-Watcher was teetering on the edge of grey. She had had to keep her nails firmly imbedded in him to hang onto the man, when that little Texan had shown the slightest bit of interest.

Her smile turned cold. He was always wanting something *pure*, she thought scornfully. Innocent. Miss Innocence-personified-bland-and-boring wouldn't have held his attention. Not when his habits, tastes ran to something so much more-. Lilah paused in her train of thought, dispersing memories of her lover, as she caught the noise coming from outside her office. She stalked quickly towards the door, yanking it open.

Gavin Parks stood there, an insincere smile on his face, his hands neatly folded behind his back, his eyes trying to register shock, but failing in his pleasure at seeing her.

"What is it?" she demanded. He peered past her, seeing the half empty glass, the strewn papers.

"Oh, nothing. Just going to the meeting."

She folded her arms across her crisp white blouse, and gave an equally insincere smile.

"What meeting?"

Gavin attempted to show dismay, lifting his hands, and blinking, and then dropping his gaze.

"Of course. Quite. Uh, indeed. What meeting?" he repeated.

One slim hand shot out, grasping the slime ball's jacket by the lapel, so he couldn't run off.

"What meeting, Gavin?" she repeated coolly. He let out a small chuckle of laughter, and, firmly closing a hand over hers, lifted it disdainfully off his jacket.

"A meeting. With the department heads. And the executives. Discussing budgeting, various projects," he said airily. He glanced at her, trying to guess the effect he was having. "I suppose, they forgot you. You haven't been in the office nearly as much." He shot her a sly, sidelong look.

"Just go, Gavin," she said shortly. Happily, the weasel sidled off, having perfectly carried out his own petty act of revenge, one-up-man-ship, whatever it was.

Lilah dropped back into the well-cushioned chair, and ran a hand through her hair distractedly. She had an inkling of why they were going on the offensive. Her . affairs . with Wesley .. She shook her head. None of their business what she did in her spare time. She was as influential as that little rat, Gavin, and..

She picked up the tumbler again, and examined it, drawing a finger around the rim, making the glass resonate. Let them have their secret meetings. The senior partners had always had a substantial interest in her, even if that idiot running the floor didn't like what she was doing. Lilah's smile broadened. She always felt so sorry for the guys on her floor. They couldn't do what she did, to maintain *contacts* with upstairs.

Dropping her head, she picked up the discarded documents once more, and resumed work.

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

The door slammed hard, and Lilah looked up. Moments later, a very human hand was wrapped around her throat.

"Lindsey," she managed to choke out. "Nice to have you back."

He dropped her back down, and turned away, as she massaged her throat.

"So was this a meaningful come on in and strangle me, or is this a social call?" she asked, with a bite of sarcasm. He turned back, and gave her a look of searing hatred.

"Shut up." She moved to walk around from behind the desk, but he held up a hand.

"Nice office, Lilah. They give it to you before or after you did it?" She looked at him, confused, but carefully concealing it. He hardly resembled the Lindsey she'd known, a co-head of Special Projects. In place of the well-tailored suits, he was wearing a dirty check shirt, and jeans, and the blue eyes she remembered being so carefully guarded, hiding emotions, were burning.

"I really don't know what you're talking about," she said flatly. He smiled a soft, dangerous half smile, and strode forward quickly, and fastened a hand across her delicate wrist, his fingers roughened by calluses.

"Then you've got a treat in store," he answered, dragging her forward. "There's a meeting. You're not in on it?" he addressed her, pulling her down the carpeted halls.

"No," she answered, trying to pry his fingers from her.

"Standards have slipped, Lilah. Once upon a time you'd do anything to get ahead of me, what changed?" he asked wryly, kicking open a door. Surprised, the various lawyers seated around the table looked up, and although some didn't recognise him, those who did, froze a moment. Lindsey released Lilah with such force that she hit the table's edge.

"Yeah. Me," he answered the unspoken question, directing a look straight at Linwood. He took out from inside his shirt a sheaf of black and white photographs, and dropped them, face up onto the table. Lilah caught a glimpse of a child, eyes wide open, dead.

Lindsey looked calmly right at Linwood. "What I want to know is, why?"

"You are no longer in this firm's employ, Lindsey. I suggest you leave," the elder man commented, but his gaze faltered under the younger's steady, heated glare.

"You see, I saw this symbol. A while ago, when I was walking around with a plastic hand attached," Lindsey began, ignoring Linwood's threat. He leaned over, and said, in a low voice, "And I know this firm has something to do with it."

"Lindsey, get out," Linwood said wearily, as a pair of guards strode in, and grabbed the younger man, who allowed himself to be guided out.

"You won't get away with it," he promised, in a menacing tone, as he was ushered out.

"All right, meeting adjourned," Linwood commanded, and the ranks of department heads dispersed. Lilah looked over at the photographs. Pretty little girl, until someone cut her throat.

"Who is she?" she asked Linwood. The greying man looked at her as if he wasn't going to answer, then finally said, "His daughter."

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

"Are you sure they're ready for this?" Cordelia asked Angel. Connor's voice could be heard distantly in the background, shouting from the basement. Faith folded her arms.

"If they're not, Boy Wonder is gonna go crazy," she remarked indifferently. Angel kissed Cordelia's cheek.

"They'll be fine. How hard could four Potentials be?" Cordy raised an eyebrow as Angel's son came upstairs from the basement, scowling.

"They're demons," he stated, and dropped onto the couch, his arms folded. Cordelia smiled.

"How hard could they be?" she asked Angel. Laughing, and breathless, Gabby and Jess raced up the stairs, closely followed by Faye. Promptly, the girls stopped in front of the three adults.

"So who's taking us?" Jess asked. She glanced toward Faith.

"Me, Cordelia, Faith, Gunn, and Fred," Angel replied.

"Why so many people? We're Potentials, we can handle a few vampires," Jess said confidently. Gabby shot her a startled look.

"We're going to a nest. It's dangerous," Faith spoke up. She levelled her gaze to the girl's. "You obey orders."

Jess tossed her head defiantly. Before she could answer, Starr came running down the stairs from her room above.

"I'm not late, am I?" she asked quickly. Angel shook his head.

Fred walked in, her arms wrapped around an artillery of various weapons. Jess's eyes lit up.

"We get weapons? Cool," she said happily, smiling. Gabby and Faye looked a little less enthralled.

"Yeah." Cordelia pulled four crosses from the bundle dumped unceremoniously on the countertop, on top of a pile of texts Wesley had left open before he had gone home for the night. She handed one to each Potential. Gabby stared at hers dubiously.

"Is there an 'on' switch for one of these?" she asked, looking up through her long bangs, with a small smile. "'Cause I'd hate to have to use it, and it not work."

Jess gave her a withering look, as Faith plucked it from Gabby's hands, and tossed it to Angel, who caught it unthinkingly, and then gave a yell of pain. He dropped it, his hand smoking.

"Works," Faith commented.

Jane trotted in, clad in a white nightgown, and Cordelia held open her arms. The little girl rushed into them, and was hugged tightly.

"Pleeeeease can I come?" Jane begged. Faith grinned.

"Too small, short stuff. Vampires like to fight something that's bigger than them."

Cordy smiled. Jane made her eyes wide, and pleading.

"Please?"

"Sorry, sweetie. Connor's staying though, so you can play with him." Connor gave her a look that stated he clearly didn't agree.

Jane pouted, and folded her arms.

"Connor's not fun," she stated, her bottom lip quivering. Connor looked up.

"I'm fun," he defended. Jane turned a sunny smile on him.

"Good. Then you'll play with me," she ordered. Angel smirked, and mumbled something about falling right into that one. Cordy poked him, and smiled at Connor's aghast expression.

"You will, won't you?" Jane asked, this time, her lip threatening to wobble again. Connor looked at his father, and then at Cordy, pleadingly.

"Please?" the little girl repeated, her eyes filling with tears. "Everyone else is going out to play, and they won't take me."

"Fine," the Destroyer grouched, folding his arms, and glaring at anyone who looked at him.

"So, weapon up, guys," Faith directed, lifting her chin. "We're heading out."

"This is boring," Jess stated, as they trudged through the park. "And pointless," she added. "We should split up. We might actually get to kill something then."

"Not the point of the exercise," Angel answered easily.

"What is the point?" Gabby asked. Faith shot her a grin.

"Not to get killed."

The gang drew to a stop.

"Okay, we know there's a vamp nest on 12th. The warehouses are a good place to find fledglings, and 43rd is a client. Fred, Gunn, and Starr, you take the client's. Cordelia, you and I take Gabby and Faye. Faith is gonna take Jess," Angel directed. Jess instantly scowled at the arrangements.

"Why can't I go with you guys?"

"Because you're comin' with me," Faith answered shortly.

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ "Angel, are you sure Jess is gonna be, you know, okay with Faith?" Cordy asked the vampire. He strode ahead, and nodded, chuckling.

"Yeah. I think so." He watched the two Potentials walk along, making tentative conversation.

"Maybe Gabby and Faye will make friends or something," Cordy whispered.

"Yeah. Jess isn't exactly an cherub to be around," he answered.

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

In silence, the Slayer and Potential walked down the street, and crossed to the warehouse district.

"Why am I here, anyway? It's not like there's a point to it. Watch you kill things, yeah, that's gonna further my training," Jess said sarcastically.

"Here to learn," Faith answered, glancing around, as they stepped inside the gloomy building.

"Learn, from you? Yeah, how to kill people, maybe," Jess scoffed. She didn't see the Slayer until she was pinned to the wall, the breath slammed out of her.

"You don't like me. I can live with that," Faith said calmly, holding her tight against the wall. "What I can't live with is if, 'cause you got a problem with me, you go out and get yourself killed. So either grow up, or go home."

"I can take care of myself," Jess replied sulkily, glaring at her. Faith stepped back, and let her drop.

"Fine. Take me," she invited. Jess folded her arms.

"What?"

"I'm a Slayer. Same powers as a vampire, same strength, same speed, whatever. If you can take care of yourself, take me," Faith ordered coolly.

Jess lunged, and spun into a roundhouse kick aimed at Faith's head. The brunette twisted easily, and blocked it, moving forward on the offensive, and blocking a punch. She flipped back, laughing holding out her hands in a gesture of invitation.

"Take me," she repeated. Angrily, the younger girl raced at her, lashing out with fists, twisting into a full assault. In a neat, simple move, Faith blocked her attack again, and knocked her back with a single punch. Now moving faster, she kicked out, and high, connecting with Jess's chin, and sending the girl flying back into the wall, crashing into it. Stubbornly, the girl scrambled up, and was greeted by a ruthless onslaught, as Faith beat her back down. Slumping against the wall, she glared at the woman, blood trickling from her lip, her eye bruised.

Faith placed her hands on her hips.

"You're not the Slayer," she said simply. "You won't be, unless B and I both kick it, and I'm not planning on doing that for a while. You're a Potential, someone who could *possibly* become a slayer. There are three other girls staying in the hotel who could be the Slayer. There are another hundred out there. You're not 'the Chosen One'. You're just an ordinary kid. So I can either continue to smash you into a wall, until you feel like you've had enough or-"

A soft growl of breath made her turn, and her hand flash to her stake. "- Watch," she finished.

The slayer whirled into an attack, kicking out, and her fists flying. Pure passion, one hand shot out, and drove the wood through the vampire's heart, exploding it into a shower of dust. Faith stood there, breathless, but a small smile on her face.

She turned back to the younger girl.

"Let's go."

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

"Connor, come play with me." At the imperious little order, he sighed, but stood up. Tugging on his hand, she towed him toward the dress up trunk of clothes that Cordy had found, some old dresses that she'd worn, but weren't right in some way, some of Angel's old shirts, with blood stains hidden by patches, and a sparkly tiara.

"We're gonna play Princess," Jane smiled up at him. He swallowed.

"Uh, okay.."

Five minutes later, Princess Connor looked at himself in the mirror in a long, pink dress, and a sparkly tiara, and groaned.

"C'mon, Connor. We gotta play," Jane protested. Her own dress dragged behind her, and draped over her feet.

"Why can't you be the princess?" he asked, fearful of the answer.

"Cuz It's gotta be the bigger person," she said, with child's logic. "And Angel plays princess." Connor snickered at the mental picture of Angel in the same silver plastic tiara, and dress. Then, catching a glimpse of himself again, shuddered. His dad enduring the same thing did *not* make it any better.

"Okay, so what do I have to do?" he asked his tiny emperor. She put her head on one side, considering.

"Well, you're the princess, and I'm the queen. So we're gonna go have tea," Jane announced brightly. Picking up her skirts carefully, she sat down on the couch, where the purple plastic tea set was set out. Picking up a cup daintily, she sipped at it.

"Go on," she encouraged. He stared flatly at the empty teacup. Being a teacup, it stared blankly back at him.

"There's nothing in it," he told her.

"Pretend!' she ordered.

"Pretend what?"

Her lip quivered. Hurriedly, he picked up the cup, and drank air from it, making slurping sounds.

"You're doing it too quickly!" she complained. "Take sips. Like proper ladies do."

"Okay, okay," he muttered, taking tiny sips of air, praying Dawn would never find out he was playing princess and tea party with an eight year old.

"I wanna play a different game now," Jane announced. Sighing with relief, Connor pulled off the plastic tiara.

"You count to fifty, " she instructed, with a giggle, "And I go hide."

"Okay," he answered, with a long-suffering sigh.

"One, two, three-"

Half an hour later, the Miracle child was panicking. He told himself that it was impossible to lose an eight-year-old in a hotel this big. He told himself that he was the son of two vampires, and *ought* to be able to find Jane.

Still, the fact remained, he couldn't find her. So he was panicking.

It was also fifteen minutes past her bedtime, something he was very aware of, since Cordelia's very graphic threats of what she would do if Jane didn't get to bed on time.

He'd checked the bedrooms, the lobby, the office, the basement, the bathrooms..The kitchen. Running towards it, he found Jane curled up, sound asleep under the table clutching the remains of a chocolate-chip cookie. Gently, he lifted her up, and carried her up the stairs, and back to her room.

Adults

"Ugggh." With a disgruntled sigh, Faith dropped down onto the couch, and leant back, her eyes closing. Jess stared at her a moment, then, stalked off upstairs.

Moments later, Angel, Cordelia, and a hyped up, excited Gabby and Faye burst in, chattering loudly.

"Everything go alright?" Angel asked Faith. The dark Slayer opened one eye, and looked at him.

"Depends on your meaning of 'alright'," she answered. Angel watched as the two Potentials headed up the staircase and then turned to Cordelia.

"I think we'd better find Connor."

~*~

Faye strode into the bedroom with Gabby, still talking, then fell silent as she saw Jess seated on her bed. She bit her lip at the fury painted onto Jess's face, and at the bruises lividly marking the pale, angry features.

"Did you have fun?" Jess asked, in a biting tone. Faye dropped her eyes.

"I'm going downstairs," Gabby whispered, looking from one girl to another. She knew from past experience, not to interfere. The blazing anger, and sarcasm turning on her, then being ignored. She felt her stomach drop as she remembered what it had been like, when Travers had been only too happy for Jess to show her displeasure by fighting. She shuddered unconsciously.

"Fine. Get out then," Jess snapped. Faye stood there, motionless, preparing silently for the onslaught.

Gabby leant against the door, trying to summon up courage to either walk downstairs, and admit Jess controlled her, or go in..and...She rested her head against the solid wood, and waited, miserably.

"So," the older girl began, standing up, "Did you have fun?"

"Yes," Faye muttered. Jess curled a lip.

"You actually kill anything?" Faye's eyes met her own, dull brown, the sparkle that had been in them only a moment before, dead.

"No," she answered, lifting her chin.

"Thought so. You're no good as a Potential, Faye. You'd be better off dead. Stupid, fat little cry-baby, always running to Starr whenever you lost. I don't know why he picked *you*," Jess said angrily, glaring at Faye. The girl stood stoically, not making any reply.

"You've always been useless, haven't you, Faye? Whenever Travers wanted us to spar, no one ever wanted to partner you. Ana, Mel, Georgina, they all died, and none of them ever wanted to be your friend," Jess continued, her voice flavoured with spite, trying to wound the younger girl.

"And Angel takes pity on you, like you'd ever make the Slayer, whatever she says. That's the only reason he took you, you know. It would have been me and Gabby, but you'd probably get yourself killed if you even looked at a vampire. Oh, except for the evil one you've made *friends* with, that is," Jess finished witheringly.

Faye still looked at her.

"You always were a disgrace. Even watching your parents die when vampires attacked, you didn't do anything," Jess hissed, sitting down. With a choking sound, Faye turned, and ran out of the room, and down the stairs. Gabby, trembling with anger, and shock, stepped back in.

"I can't believe you," she began.

"Save it," Jess interrupted, her blue eyes icy.

"No, I won't," Gabby answered, her confidence rising. "You've become a real bitch, Jessamy . Faye didn't do anything wrong!"

"Fine, side with her," Jess snapped, turning her back on the younger girl. Gabby opened her mouth to speak, then shut it again.

"I'm going downstairs," she said shortly. "Try to grow up."

When Jess turned, incredulous, Gabby had gone.

~*~

Angel tapped on Connor's door. He slipped an arm around Cordelia's shoulders, and she leant against him, smiling slightly.

Connor pulled the door open, his face appearing at the crack.

"Huh?"

"So. How'd it go?" Cordy asked. Connor shrugged, leaving the door open, as he sat back down on the bed.

"Okay, I guess." He folded his arms. "So, patrolling?"

Cordy tucked a piece of hair behind her ears, looking at Angel.

"It was good," his father replied. Connor nodded.

"So, nothing happened?" Cordelia asked again, probing slightly. Connor scowled.

"It was okay. "

"Good," Angel nodded.

"Good," Cordelia echoed.

~*~

Faye raced through the now empty lobby, crashing into a person standing in the doorway as she moved past them, her sketchpad still tucked under her arm. Tears blurred her vision, as she turned out of the hotel's street, and sat down, her back against the cool stone of a building, to cry properly.

~*~

Lindsey dodged the small streak of crying teenager, and looked around, bewildered. Angel hadn't had *another* miracle child, had he?

Spread eagled across the couch, in an unconsciously provocative position, Faith lay fast asleep, her chocolate brown hair tumbled around her face, fists balled against her sides. A small prickling of desire sprang over Lindsey, though he quickly repressed it, his jaw tightening. Lauren's mother.. He pushed it away. She'd been more a solace for Darla, than anything else.

He sat down on the opposite couch, and propped his chin on his hand, staring into space, the photographs that remained tucked inside his jacket.

Shock was washing over him, replacing the anger. His little girl. He swallowed, remembering how he'd hurried her that morning. Lauren always.. Had always, loved everything about the morning, taking it slow, laid back. Like he used to do. His heart ached as he recalled the sight, the sounds of her. The silky feel of soft brown baby hair, the huge grin, the bright sparkle in the blue eyes. Chubby little arms closing around his neck in a loving hug. The lisping, 'night night Daddy' as she went to sleep. His head shot up, the blue eyes blazing with grief, his jaw set.

A young girl stepped down the stairs towards him. Honey blonde hair hung over her shoulders, and her eyes were lowered, until she saw him, and then large, moss-green eyes settled on his face.

"Can I help you?" she asked politely, her voice low. He blinked. Perhaps the colouring, and the memories of .. She looked so much like Darla, he shook his head a second, then focused on her again. Childish features, in adolescence, he guessed around thirteen.

"Does.Angel still work here?" he asked, his voice rough. She blinked.

"Yeah. I can go get him for you, if you want?" she asked. He nodded. She looked towards the sleeping Slayer, and a tiny smile appeared.

"I'll go," she mumbled, turning towards the stairs. His mind clicked into gear. Another teenager. A girl. Even Angel couldn't work like that..could he? Cordelia.Fred?

Moments later, the vampire descended, a surprised expression on his face, that turned rapidly dark.

"Lindsey," he growled.

"I need help." It cost him so much to come to this guy, and beg. Not the begging, hell, he'd barely have survived as a kid without begging from neighbours, begging for himself, and his siblings, but the vampire had, to all extents and purposes, kicked him out of the city. That, and stolen Darla. And the 'cops suck' sign. Three pull-overs. But, apart from Wolfram and Hart, the vampire was the only one who could really help at all.

"Right." Angel folded his arms, and looked the other man up and down. "Why?"

From the couch, Faith stirred. Stretching, her eyes blearily focused on the man standing beside the vampire.

"Gonna introduce me, Angel?" she drawled, Lindsey gave her a cursory glance, then turned back to the vampire.

"Are you going to, or not?" he asked. Angel looked at him again.

"I'll help," he said finally.

~*~

Sitting back against the building, Faye sketched absently, tearstains still on her cheeks, shining in the lamplight. Looking down at the pad, she shivered. The lines appearing were clearly showing the picture from her dreams. Why had she even thought of it? It was disgusting, when she'd woken up, she'd been ill, it was so horrible. The little girl had so clearly been gorgeous when she was alive, why she had seen her like this .. Her fingers trembled, and she dropped the pencil, a shiver running down her spine. Faye looked up instinctively.

A hand slipped across her mouth, silencing her screams, as the blade slid cleanly into her throat. The sketchpad lay forgotten.

~*~

Starr opened the main door, and slipped inside, her smile still floating on her lips. The entire experience had been... eye opening. The power that was available to her, if she became.. Part of her had relished the fight, the conquering of her fear, and the enemy, delighting in an innate ability, while sorely feeling the lack of power. She glanced around, but the foyer was empty. Running up the stairs lightly, she sat down hard on her bed, laughing softly.

Wesley paused in the hall, hearing the little giggle, an indulgent smile crossing his face. He knocked on the door. Starr sprang up, and pulled it open.

"First patrol fun?" the ex-Watcher asked dryly. She grinned, and nodded, her black curls bobbing around her neck. Her cheeks were still flushed red with excitement.

"I never realised there was so much.. Travers, he seemed to make it so... He didn't describe the feeling of it, oh, it was.." She hugged herself tightly, whirling around happily. "Magical. I actually slew a vampire tonight, Wesley. Me! I always thought only the true Slayer, and yet," Starr smiled up at him, her grey eyes filled with wonder. "I was part of it."

"It's an amazing experience," he agreed, sitting down on the bedspread. She dropped down beside him.

"What was it like, when you. You killed a vampire?" she asked softly, her eyes fixed on his own. He smiled, remembering.

"The Watcher's Academy allows its students to experience such things as part of training. I was sixteen years old, handed a weapon, and led into a caged arena, with floodlights upon it, and an unarmed vampire, who hadn't been fed for weeks, was led out, restrained, so I could slay it, without getting hurt. And I was bloody terrified!" he laughed. She joined in.

"So, not quite the same," he finished, smiling at her. She nodded.

~*~

The scream that broke the silence was shrill, and terrifying. Starr and Wesley raced down the corridor, following Cordelia, as they ran into Jane's room. The child sat up in bed, her eyes wide, her pupils huge, and black, mouth open in a scream.

"She must have had another nightmare," Cordelia said, sitting down on the bed. She reached out to hold the child, and pulled her close, holding her tightly. Jane stiffened, but then, her thin shoulders shuddered, and she began to cry.

"Shhh, honey. Shhh," Cordy crooned, rocking her back and forth, as Angel stepped into the room.

"What happened?"

"I don't know," Cordelia whispered, hugging Jane to her. "A nightmare."

Girl, blood, so much, blood spilt there, fire, flames, so much blood, throat cut, eyes wide, screaming, alive, dead, fire, burning, burning

"Sweetie, it was a nightmare. It isn't real, it isn't real,' Cordy promised. Jane leant against her, tears still spilling down her cheeks.

"I've got to get back. Lindsey, he's downstairs. In the office," Angel said awkwardly. Wesley glanced at him.

"I'll join you," he said shortly.

~*~

Faith leant against the wall, her arms folded as she studied the man seated on her left.

"Why Angel?" she asked. Lindsey lifted his head to look at her.

"Excuse me?"

"Why Angel?" she repeated, shrugging. "I mean, you were with a bad ass law firm, why not go to them?"

"You ever known kids?" he asked her. Her mind flashed to a little girl, saw her face once more, and felt the bittersweet pain in her heart, but shrugged again, nonchalantly. "Might do."

"Well, take a look," he said, dropping a sheaf of photographs onto Angel's desk. She picked one up, more from curiosity than anything, but her stomach churned.

A little girl, beautiful and healthy, only some dick had decided to shove a bunch of holes in her neck, and drain her blood dry. She dropped it abruptly, as if her fingers had been burned, and moved back, shaking.

Some pervert could have done that to any kid, and their parents, sisters, brothers would never have known. Her stomach rolled, and she felt physically ill.

"Who was she?" she managed. Lindsey watched her.

"My daughter. Lauren," he answered finally. "I want to find the person who did that to her."

"And we'll help," Angel's voice sounded, and both turned to look at the vampire. "Lindsey."

"Thank you," the man muttered, scooping up the photographs. "I'm going back to my hotel. You can reach me here." He dropped a card onto the desk, and walked out.

"That was.. Short," Wesley commented.

"Don't blame him," Faith spoke up, not looking at him.

"So what do we do now?" Wesley asked Angel. The vampire picked up the photograph again.

"The symbol. We need to find out what it means. Is this the first murder like this? It's ritual, isn't it?"

"Yes," Wesley said slowly. "The piercing of the throat by a tri-bladed knife, in order to allow the blood from the jugular vein fully. Used in Druidic sacrifices, I think. Dates from about 600 BC."

"Exactly. Who is doing this, and where," Angel ordered grimly.

~*~

"I brought tea," Starr said softly, setting down the china cup. Wesley gave her a brief smile.

"Thank you, Starr. What time is it?" he yawned. She looked at her watch.

"Ten to three. Want some help?"

He smiled again, gratefully. "If you wouldn't mind.?" She took a book from his hand, and flipped it open, sitting down on the other side of the desk.

"Where are the others?" he asked, a moment later. She looked up.

"Gunn and Angel are looking on the street, trying to find out if anyone knows of ritual murders, Cordelia's asleep, with Jane, Fred's doing a computer search and I'm here." She shrugged one shoulder, and gave him a faint smile.

"Jess, Faye and Gabby?"

"Haven't seen Gabby and Faye, I think they're with the others. Jess is upstairs though, sulking about something. She won't tell me what."

Wesley yawned again. "Sounds like any other thirteen year old to me."

"Ooh! Found something!" She pointed, and hurriedly, he got up, and stood behind her to take a look.

"It's the same symbol, but my Greek isn't that good. It says something about, 'restoring what comes before.' That, or, 'my duck has six wheels.'"

Wesley shook his head. "Your Greek is terrible. It is used in rituals of the bringing back of what has gone before." She raised an eyebrow.

"Restoring isn't *that* bad a translation."

"Restoration happens to a painting," he answered, with a grin. She shrugged.

"Meh. Potato, Potatoe."

He smiled slightly, shaking his head. "So, the symbol is used in a ritual to bring back something." He pored over the text. "Hmm. It doesn't refer to a particular object, I was hoping the Tool of Persephone would be linked somehow, but it doesn't seem-"

"Tool of Persephone?" Gunn was propped against the doorway, an eyebrow raised. "That's not exactly a mystical name. Tool?"

Wesley glared. "Yes. Tool. Sometimes, the creators did come straight to the point."

Starr hopped off the desk where she'd perched. "So, street people. How'd that work out?"

Gunn glanced at her. "Nothin'. There's some big shit out there. People are hidin'. We pulled out zip." He grinned. "Beat the crap outta a coupla demons though."

"Fun," Starr said brightly. She turned back to Wesley. "Seeing as it's early in the morning, I'm going to try and sleep."

"Goodnight, then," Wesley replied. She pushed her hair behind her ears.

"See ya Gunn."

"G'night," the black man replied.

~*~

Starr opened the door. The bedroom was in darkness, pitch black.

"Faye?" she whispered. No answer. Yawning, she slipped into her pyjamas, and beneath the covers, sleepily. The younger girl was fast asleep.

~*~

The sketchpad lay abandoned on the sidewalk, the half completed sketch still recognisable. Lauren's pretty, blood spattered face looked up from the page.

Kidnap

The kitchen was only ever quiet at this time in the morning. Before Jess, Gabby, Faye, Starr, Lorne, Fred, Gunn, and Cordy were awake. Normally, Connor would be asleep too, but since the bundle of skinny eight year old had landed on him at six that morning, he was up.

Jane was playing with her oatmeal, as gloomily, he watched. Her eyes lifted, and met his, and then lowered. The little girl was always silent the day after one of her nightmares.

As she finished, he asked, awkwardly, "Do you want to play hide and go seek?" It was the only game Jane liked, apart from tea-party, and that was never a good suggestion to make. She smiled suddenly, and nodded.

"I wanna hide," she stated. He put his hands over his eyes, and began counting, as she slid off her seat, and scurried away.

At fifty, Connor uncovered his eyes, and stood up. As he walked into the lobby, Gabby was walking down the stairs, rubbing her eyes sleepily.

"Hey, Connor," she yawned. "What're you doing?"

"Hide and seek, with Jane," he answered, shrugging. "Know where she'd hide?"

"No idea. She's good at that game," Gabby grinned. "Doubt you'll find her."

* ~ * ~ * ~

Jane crouched under Wesley's desk, and hugged her knees. Connor would never find her here!

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Starr stretched sleepily, and hugged her pillow tightly. The shard of sunlight that had woken her played across the comforter.

"Faye? You awake yet?" she asked, her eyes still shut. No answer.

She opened her eyes, and looked across at the other bed, a puzzled frown crossing her face.

It was made, with the pillows neatly fluffed, and the comforter smoothed. But one corner of the comforter had been flipped up, and tucked under the pillow, creating a crease in the spread, exactly as Starr had made it, yesterday.

Yanking on her dressing gown, Starr made for the stairs, hurrying down them. Faye hadn't been there last night.

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

"Angel, have you seen Faye?" Starr gabbled, her eyes wide, and desperate as she stared at the vampire. Angel shook his head.

"No, I thought she was-"

"Has Cordy, Lorne, Gunn, Fred, Wesley-" she tried, but at Angel's look, she flung herself towards the door, and ran through the small garden to the street, a frantic expression on her face.

She stopped at the gate, looking around wildly at people crossing the street. Finally, her eyes settled on a small square of white, a few yards away. She moved quickly to it, and then swallowed, her eyes big, and scared, tears prickling in them.

Lindsey's daughter's face was sketched painstakingly in Faye's distinctive hand, and an arch of droplets, in a dark red colour had fallen across it. She bent, and as if in a dream, picked up the book, and walked back to the hotel.

"Starr?" Angel questioned as she walked towards him. Her eyes lifted, and met his.

"Faye's dead," she said, in a monotone, holding out the book. Cordelia walked down the stairs, and paused there, looking at Starr.

"Starr? What's the matter?" she asked, concernedly. Starr sat down heavily on the couch, and began to sob.

"What's happening?" Faith asked, at the top of the flight of stairs. She looked down at Cordelia trying to comfort Starr, and then at Angel. "What's going on?" she repeated.

They checked the place, walking out, Angel keeping to the early morning shadows, the shade of a wall, the shadow of a truck, standing back as they stood around the spot.

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Jane clambered into Wesley's big chair, and whirled around, bored. Connor had been ages finding her. As the chair spun, she knocked a pile of papers to the floor. Sliding out of the leather chair, she bent to pick them up, and uncovered a photograph. Her eyes widened as she focused on the image of the dead child.

"Are you in here?" Connor called, his hand on the knob of the office door. The last place the little girl could be was inside. Suddenly, her unearthly shriek rang out, and he burst into the room. She looked up at him with big, frightened eyes, and then someone hit him, and he fell forwards, seeing a man inject Jane in the arm as she struggled to get free.

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

As they ran through the streets the entire crew of AI pursuing the van containing Connor and Jane, it veered sharply around a corner, and then a door opened, and Connor was flung out, bumping along the road until he rolled to a stop, unconscious.

Final Battle

"Connor!" Angel longed to run to his son, but the boy lay flung out in the sunshine. Cordelia gave the vampire one last hurried look, and threw herself forward to get to Connor, followed by the others. Angel waited in the shadows impatiently, his face vamping out in annoyance.

"Connor?" He blinked, opening his eyes, and seeing Cordelia bent over him. He coughed, and sat up, wincing.

"I'm okay," he said, shaking her off. "They got Jane."

They helped him into the hotel, and sat him down on the couch. He sighed, and leant his head back.

"Who took her, did you see them?" Starr demanded, her voice rising. Wesley looked at her with concern, and whispering something in her ear, led her away, and into the office, closing the door.

Connor looked up at his father.

"I didn't get a good look. She's still alive though. They gave her something, knocked her out .. " he sighed again. "They jumped me. Didn't even see them coming."

He sat back, turning his face away from them.

Starr and Wesley re-entered the room, Starr's eyes were red, and she was snuffling, but looked considerably less frantic.

"We were thinking," Wesley announced. "I've heard of a spell, calling up a guardian, to find someone. If we used it, it would take us to Jane, wherever she is. As she's still alive, the spell would work."

Angel and Cordelia exchanged looks, and nodded.

"Do it. I have a call to make," Angel replied shortly.

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Lindsey's hands were folded behind his head, and his posture led one to believe he was relaxed. The ex lawyer was anything but. Whenever he closed his eyes, pictures of Lauren surged, her shy smile as she peeked around the table playing hide and seek, or her laugh replayed in his ears, high and sweet, a gurgling little giggle.

Or the way she looked when she was dead. Either way, Lindsey hadn't slept much.

The 'phone sat beside the bed in his dingy room rang. He sat up. Only one person had his number. Angel. He grabbed for the phone, fingers fumbling.

"Hello? Lindsey," he answered, his voice rough with tiredness.

"Angel. We've found a way to get to the people who killed Lauren."

Lindsey hung up the phone, and snatched his jacket.

* ~ * ~ * * ~ * ~

The tiny pin prick of blue light danced in front of their eyes, as the eight watched, grimly. Angel, Cordelia, Fred, Gunn, Connor, Faith, Lindsey, Wesley and Starr, holding their weapons in their hands were ready to follow.

The blot of light shot off, and the car followed immediately, chasing the light through the streets. They'd waited till after dark, on tenterhooks, as it would give them the upper hand, and meant that the vampire would be able to fight.

The tyres squealed as they took another sharp corner, but nobody commented. The one thought was to find the damn place.

Running through traffic lights, screeching around bends, and then they were out, down a private road, and outside a large, tall building. The light flickered, then moved inside. They jumped out, and chased it.

The guard's eyes were hurting. He'd been on a twenty-four hour shift, and it wasn't like anyone was coming down here, it was too damn out of the way. He allowed them to close, but opened them again. Falling asleep on the job was not an option, with that short guy in charge.

The glass doors smashed, large shards of glass crashing to the floor as a man hurled himself inside, followed by others, handing each other through, an artillery of weapons clutched in their hands. He rose in his chair, but the lead man growled, and turned, flashing him a gruesome face, filled with fangs, and ridges. He sat back down again helplessly, as they ran for the stairs.

"Angel, look," Cordy pointed out, as they ran up the stairs. He turned. There was no way to miss it. The distinctive Wolfram and Hart logo on the wall. He growled, and continued running.

The light stopped on the top floor. Steel grey carpet was below, and the walls were painted pristine white. A door handle was set into the wall. They stopped, some panting, and Angel turned the handle.

They were in a small room, filled with monitors. Looking around, and up at them, Fred spotted Jane, struggling in restraints, and yelled. There was only one way to go. Forwards. Opening the second door, the AI team pushed through.

The room was huge, the same plain white, with a huge pyre built in the centre. Suit clad Wolfram and hart associates stood at intermediate points around the room. A man in a hooded robe was bent over Jane, in the centre of the room, a knife held in his hand. But that wasn't all. Demons of various breeds were everywhere, blocking their way forward to the little girl. And Gavin Parks stood in front of them, a friendly smile on his face.

"Welcome!" he announced. "Don't bother closing the door behind you. It's taken care of." They looked around. A nasty looking demon, covered in purple spines smiled back, blocking their escape.

Angel looked straight at Gavin.

"Tell me why I'm not snapping your neck," he demanded. Gavin's smile broadened.

"The great Angelus. Because the minute you do, she," he pointed to Jane, " Dies. Oh, she'll die anyway, of course, but your way, it'll be painful." His eyes sparkled.

"Angel, don't," Cordelia warned. The vampire's grip tightened on his battleaxe.

"Why are you trying to kill her?' he asked. Gavin looked satisfied.

"Finally. The question. The reason is there's a little ritual taking place. You took something of ours a while back, and we want it back. And it requires the blood of three children. So we used yours." Gavin shrugged, then looked straight at Lindsey. "Oh, if you're wondering, yes it *was* personal. I don't like you," he stage whispered. Lindsey's jaw tightened.

"So why not kill Jane at the hotel? Why kidnap her, and go to all this trouble?" Angel asked. Gavin grinned this time.

"Clever boy," he announced. "Because, the last blood has to be cast on the fire while it's still warm. You were so *attached* to the little one," he glanced back at Jane, who squeaked with fear, the robed man's hand over her mouth, "We used her."

Cordelia looked at the fire, and blinked. It was familiar, a large banked fire, and ..

Visions of blood, and fire, and a pair of white hands dipped in blood, a voice screaming, Three! Three!'

She glanced at Starr. The young woman was deathly pale, the same realisation crossing her face.

"I don't get it," Cordelia said aloud. "What did we take from you?"

"You'll soon see," Gavin said. "Now, guys, take care of them." He turned back to the fire as the demons walked forward, menacingly.

Simultaneously, AI drew weapons, and spiralled into action. Faith ran at the nearest demon, fist connecting with skill, legs flashing around in a roundhouse kick, that knocked him down. Angel's axe flashing, slicing through one demon, and into another. Cordelia and Fred, crossbows and bolts flying into the fray as they fought towards them. Connor lashing out at everything, Gunn, Starr and Wesley, smashing on demons, taking out as many as possible. Lindsey chased after Gavin, grimly, as he cornered the small man.

The fight was tough, blood smearing the faces of the nine fighting their way forward. Tens of demons moving forwards relentlessly, trying to crush them back. Angel managed to catch Jane's eyes. The little girl was watching him patiently, her eyes focused in a steady gaze, settled on him, full of hope. He turned away, and slashed at the demon in front of him viciously.

Lindsey found the way forward to Gavin blocked by a tall demon, and fell back, lifting his weapon. The lawyer himself was stood in front of the pyre, surveying the damage.

"You've got to do it now," he hissed to the man with the knife. "They're gaining forwards. We can't risk it. We have to do it now!"

The man nodded, and bent over the girl, who squirmed against the restraints, panicked once again.

Cordelia saw them lean forwards, intent in their eyes, and pushed forward with more strength than she knew she had.

"Angel!" she screamed. The vampire whipped around, to see the knife lower to Jane's neck. He moved with supernatural speed, and knocked the knife out of the robed man's hand, just as it nicked the little girl's neck.

Angel saw the blood droplet gleam on Jane's neck, and lifted his head, in full vampire visage, to look at the robed man.

"I'm gonna kill you for that," he said calmly. The man ran.

The demons were slowly dying. Where once where tens were only a few, vicious and brutal.

Gavin dived for the knife, lifting it to the little girl, Angel turned from pummelling the man to see, helplessly, as it slid closer towards the girl, no-one able to help her.

The pyre flared, and then, complete darkness fell over the group. The demons dropped to the ground, what few of them there were, and left the AI crew standing in the room, as a cloud of light appeared over the now extinguished pyre, the trickles of dark red blood seeping out onto the granite coloured floor.

They dropped weapons, and stared, as a well known face appeared in the cloud, hazy, and dream-like.

"Darla?" Angel asked, his voice astonished. She laughed, its familiar rise and fall bittersweet to Lindsey's ears.

"Yes," she answered. "I'm still dead, Angel. Don't worry." She smiled at them, and cocked her head on one side.

"I didn't think you'd make it, but you did. You delayed them long enough- If you hadn't, I'd be here, but this would be different," she said vaguely. No one noticed as Starr slipped to the floor.

She looked at them, no laughter now in her eyes.

"They wanted me alive," she paused, "well, dead, actually. Just walking. If you hadn't stopped the ritual, I would be, and there'd be something bad on your hands. But I haven't got much time. It took so much to appear, do whatever the hell this is. All the prophecy tricks, they couldn't deal with it, over-riding it was hard.I'm sorry for the pain, the bloodshed," her eyes softened as she looked directly at Lindsey, "I couldn't stop it. But something far worse is coming. Something that'll divide you down the middle, and rip your hearts out. You have to fight it. You have to win. Or the way you know things will change." She smiled sweetly, and sadly, and then the light flickered out, leaving them there.

Lindsey fulfilled his emotions by grabbing hold of Gavin, who was still frozen to the spot nearby, in disbelief, and punched him, hard. The lawyer fell to the floor like a stone.

Angel stepped across Parks' prone body, and helped Jane out of the restraints, and lifted her up in his arms.

"Time to go home," he announced, as they all shook off the tired muscles, and limped towards the exit.

Only Starr stood there still, in the centre of the room, having clambered her way up. When she spoke, her voice was uncertain, and shaky.

"Hate to spoil the celebrations, guys, but," her voice quaked with bewilderment. "I'm blind."

 

~Fin~