Angel 6x05 – Four Men and a Little Slayer
Disclaimer: These characters are the property of Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy Productions, and 20th Century Fox. No copyright infringement is meant from this story.
Written by Michael J
A/N: Thank you to spikeNdru for the beta.
Yes, this is ep 5. Hadn't escaped my notice. There are 4 more, but they are unfortunately in script form and thus cannot be posted here. They will be switched over at some point in the near future, but I am not sure exactly when, so I am including a link to where the previous 4 eps are in my profile since it doesn't seem to work here...
Thanks for reading!
Angel was in his office at the Hyperion, methodically unpacking books from a box and putting them on shelves. He pulled out the dagger he'd given to Wesley as a gift three years ago. Angel smiled pensively as he remembered his fallen friend.
"Uh! Sixteenth century!" Wesley said as he unsheathed the dagger. "Angel! Murshan Dynasty? I've always wanted one of these! I didn't think you…," Wesley whipped the dagger in the air as he searched for the proper words. "Oh, I can't wait to kill something with this!"
Angel stared at the dagger, the smile replaced with a look of sorrow. He set it down and picked up an urn with the inscription 'Wesley Wyndam-Pryce' on the front. Just outside the office in the main lobby, Gunn was organizing a file cabinet while Spike mounted a sword in a weapons cabinet. Illyria stood close to Spike gazing at the weapons. Heather came bouncing down the steps talking on a cell phone.
"Mom, it's just a few nights a week. It won't get in the way of school at all. I'd just like to do something in my spare time." Heather said in a whiny voice. "No, a cooking class is not my idea of fun," she said in a disgusted tone. "It's just a small job at a detective agency. Answering phones and calling sources and stuff like that." Heather lowered her voice before continuing "Plus the guys that work here are total babes."
Angel, who had moved to organizing papers at the front desk, and Spike exchanged a look, having obviously heard Heather's remark with their enhanced hearing.
"Okay mom, I gotta go. Duty calls and all that. Call you tomorrow. Love ya. Bye!" Heather let out an exasperated sigh before turning to address her new employers. "Okay, so can we go kill something?"
Illyria turned to look at Heather, regarding her question with what almost looked like a smile. "I like this one. Most of the females in your species lack a killer's edge. This one has a strong warrior's spirit.
Angel didn't like the sound of that. He walked out from behind the desk with his hands up in a 'stop' signal. "Whoa there, we're still trying to get everything set up. I don't think we should get too heavy into the patrolling just yet. I just got the phones turned back on." He turned to address Heather directly. "Plus, shouldn't you be getting ready for school?"
Heather rolled her eyes and put her hand on her hip. The very thought of dealing with another parental figure was enough to make her reconsider the whole deal. "Well, the semester doesn't start for another couple of weeks. There's just all the Greek week crap. Aside from the parties, there's nothing to do."
Heather walked past Angel and hoped up on the reception desk. She pulled out a nail file and went to work on her fingers. She paused for a moment, trying to appear as casual as possible before getting to her next point. "Oh and I told my mom they were going to let me move back on campus early, but that was just a lie so I wouldn't have to go home. So, can I stay here until I get set up in my place?" It came out more babbling than suave, and Heather felt like she had blown her shot. She looked up to see all the men in the room exchanging apprehensive looks.
Angel curled his arms and suddenly became very interested in looking at his shoes. Finally he eloquently replied, "Umm."
Gunn quickly returned to the file he was flipping through, not looking up as he stuttered over himself. "I'm not sure…well, it's your call, boss."
Spike opened his mouth to interject, but stopped himself when he noticed the look of terror evident on Angel's face. He smirked like a villain in a Bond movie, thoroughly enjoying watching Angel squirm. Angel might be the big hero and all, but Spike had him totally outclassed when it came to handling people, especially women.
Heather continued to stare at Angel as he refused to give a definitive answer, her face looking more and more pathetic by the second. She put on her best puppy dog face. "Come on guys. Please," she whined in her best pleading voice.
Illyria looked at Angel and deadpanned, "I would welcome her presence." She turned to look at Heather. "The company of another female here would be…agreeable."
"Yes!" Heather hopped off the desk and excitedly walked over to stand beside Illyria. She started babbling. "See, Illyria is on my side. I could give you a pedicure! We could paint your toenails orange. It's totally the new pink and it's the perfect contrast to all that blue. We could get some sun too. That pale look so isn't working-"
"I have changed my mind," Illyria interrupted, looking back at Angel with a look of what could pass for fear. "She requires her own domicile."
Heather now had no one on her side and wasn't getting anywhere with the pouty lip approach. She opted for the logical direction. "Look, I'm supposed to be training for this slaying thing, right? How am I going to do that when I have to commute from San Diego? I'm better off being here," she said before looking directly at Angel and continuing in a sarcastic tone. "Unless you want to loan me that convertible."
Angel opened to his mouth to respond, but couldn't think of a rebuttal for that argument. He sighed, defeated. "Okay, okay, you can stay here for awhile."
Gunn's head snapped up to look at Angel. He never thought Angel would agree to take the girl in. Training a slayer was one thing, but living with an obvious hormone machine was another. Sure Fred had lived with Angel for two years, but the first few months were spent locked in her room. Plus Gunn had no intentions of trying to date this girl, so having her around hitting on him wasn't something he was looking forward to. He tried to dissuade her. "Have to warn you, though, it's just us guys and Big Blue over there."
Heather turned to Gunn with an are-you-stupid expression and replied, "This is a bad thing because…"
Gunn pressed on, unaware that he was fighting a losing battle. "Well, it could get a little heavy on the machismo."
Lorne walked in the front door holding a bunch of bags from Bed, Bath, and Beyond, looking almost orgasmic at his stash. "Oh, I've forgotten how much I missed lilac scented bath oil," he said. "If anyone needs me, I'll be soaking in a nice, warm bubble bath."
Lorne went up the stairs to his room singing "Macho Man" by the Village People.
Heather smirked as she watched Lorne leave. "Oh yeah. You guys? All kinds of manly."
DAVID BOREANEZ as ANGEL
JAMES MARSTERS as SPIKE
J AUGUST RICHARDS as GUNN
AMY ACKER as ILLYRIA
ANDY HALLET as LORNE
SARAH POLLEY as HEATHER
GUEST STARRING
VINCENT KARTHEISER as CONNOR
Gunn and Spike fenced with wooden staffs on the balcony overlooking the lobby while Illyria and Heather sparred in the lobby itself. Angel stood behind the reception desk next to his son, who was visiting under the pretense of more testing of his special abilities. Connor's head rested on his hand as he stared dreamily at Heather. Angel was so happy to be having a casual conversation with his kid that he didn't notice Connor wasn't paying any attention to him.
"Not sure how it compares to your hell dimension experience, but everyday I got killed in a new way. This one time you shot me with that stake gun you had when you escaped from Quor'toth."
Connor held his gaze on the fighting in front of him, but nodded to Angel in a vain attempt to appear interested in whatever the hell he was talking about. He figured his dad would understand his attraction, given that it was hereditary, but Angel appeared to be clueless about a lot of simple life things.
Angel stopped to look at his son and noticed the lack of appreciation for his tale of the hell dimension.
"Then there was this leprechaun. He shot right out of Gunn's ass and beat me to death with his pot of gold."
"That's nice," Connor responded before actually he actually processed what he just heard. "Wait a minute. I thought you told me leprechauns weren't real."
Angel half smiled and looked back towards Heather and Illyria. "So you were listening. I thought you were distracted by that."
Connor tried to stammer an excuse. "No, it's nothing like that. I just appreciate their form."
Angel's half smile expanded to a full one. Despite everyone thinking he was so dense, he wasn't stupid. "I bet you do."
"I meant their fighting form," Connor quickly responded, catching the double meaning. "It's like…ballet. I mean if you're one of those types that likes ballet."
"Hey now," Gunn called out as he and Spike walked over with their fighting staffs. Gunn was sweating profusely while Spike barely looked flustered. All the legalese of the last year had taken some of Gunn's fighting edge away. "Don't go dissing ballet."
Spike looked flabbergasted. "You're into ballet," he scoffed. "You're killing your macho image there."
Gunn returned the flabbergasted expression. "This coming from a poet," he retorted with a tinge of malice. Then he remembered how enthralled he was while he was watching Giselle and figured that Spike had a point. He went on the defensive. "I've only been to one anyway, which I didn't get to see the end of because Cordy and Angel got all kissy in the dressing rooms."
Angel and Connor, in perfect synchronization, looked down at their hands folded on the desk. Any mention of Cordelia Chase brought up the rift that had formed between them, leading to that horrible day in the sporting goods store. Neither of them had mentioned Cordelia to the other for fear of an awkward discussion.
A loud punch resonated from the lobby followed by Heather screaming.
"Incoming slayer," Spike warned as Heather fell into Angel's arms.
Heather looked up at Angel and blushed; then her face hardened as she looked back at her opponent. "You'll pay for that!" she exclaimed and with a silly war cry, she leapt from Angel's arms towards Illyria in a lunging attack. Illyria stood still for a moment, then swept her left arm into an arc and slowed time down. She walked over to the front desk with Heather still in midair. When time resumed its normal flow, Heather landed hard on the ground where Illyria had been standing before. Now that she'd been embarrassed she was bordering on pissed off. "No fair! You can't use your powers to avoid me!"
Illyria relished the opportunity to train the warrior and to expound her centuries of battle knowledge to a fledging student. Angel and his followers never appeared interested in what she had to say, but this one could be molded into a great fighter under her tutelage. "The true warrior uses whatever is available to win. If you are to be a successful slayer, you must learn to adapt to your opponent's abilities, whatever they may be."
"I would so be kicking your ass right now if you weren't using your powers. Bet you wouldn't be half as tough if you weren't using that crystal.
Illyria glared at Heather with her patented slight tilt of the head. She made a deliberate show of placing the crystal on the desk in front of Angel. Then, with her fists clenched so tightly her fingers threatened to shove all the way through her palm, she stalked towards her opponent with a look of death in her eyes.
Lorne, who was standing at the top of the staircase with a sea breeze, saw Illyria's expression. "Uh oh," he muttered in a worried tone.
Angel, Spike, Connor, and Gunn all shared Lorne's concern. "Uh oh," they said in unison.
Heather had been feeling pretty damn sure of herself until she realized she'd just pissed off a god king. She managed to whimper out an "uh oh" before dropping into a ridiculously pathetic fighting stance.
The four men at the front desk winced in pain as the beating began.
Angel tentatively spoke up. "One of us should stop this," he said, hoping that someone else would step up to the challenge.
In a W&H conference room, a stocky man in a suit stood with his back to a conference table of terrified looking employees. He spoke very slowly, enunciating every syllable as if he were talking to a kindergarten class.
"To say the least, the Senior Partners are not pleased. Angel and his band of merry men not only managed to destroy the Circle of the Black Thorn, but managed to escape our holding dimension. For a third time, might I add. Let us not forget the incidents with Lindsey McDonald and Charles Gunn," he said before pausing to sigh, exaggerating the expression with a heavy raise and drop of his shoulders.
"Despite all of these setbacks, the Partners' main concern is not with Angel himself. It has been decided that trying to alter Angel's role in the coming apocalypse is wasting too much time, energy, and resources. So from this moment forward, we will not occupy our time on the vampire champion with a soul. When the time comes, we'll simply kill him. The Partners have left the demon army at our disposal whenever we wish to eliminate him. Our field reports state that Angel has reopened his detective agency and will return to his original mission statement of helping the helpless. He poses no real threat for the foreseeable future. Now bear in mind that the hands-off policy is still in effect. Angel will die when the Partners are ready for him to die and only when the Partners are ready for it. Anyone in this room, who seeks to take Angel out of the picture without the consent of the Partners, or myself, will be terminated…in every sense of the word. Our focus now is on the Old One. Our reports also tell us that Illyria has managed to tap into her former powers, thus making her a bigger threat to the apocalypse than Angel himself. The Partners want Illyria to be dealt with," he paused, more out of a desired dramatic effect than the need to breathe, "and I know exactly how to do it."
Inside a mall in downtown LA, Heather was in line paying for what appeared to be half a department store's worth of clothes. Her face and arms were slightly bruised from the ass-kicking she'd taken from Illyria. She inwardly thanked the heavens for her slayer healing because the bruises were barely visible compared to earlier that day.
Outside the store, Angel and Spike sat on a bench waiting for her to finish her shopping spree. Spike was constantly shuffling his position on the bench, attempting to ease the immense boredom he'd experienced all day. "How'd I let you talk me into this?" he whined. "Why couldn't Lorne come instead? Isn't this more his thing?"
Angel rolled his eyes, this being the umpteenth complaint he'd heard from Spike since they got to the mall, even though he'd bought the guy a limited edition Sex Pistols vinyl as a bribe. "Lorne went to go meet a client with Gunn," he said in a tone that suggested it wasn't the first time he'd conveyed this information. "Some guy who swears his wife is possessed because she keeps leaving at all hours of the night and doesn't remember where she goes."
Spike, reminiscing on his previous out-of-mind experiences, replied with some semblance of knowledge. "Well normally the possessed don't remember much of what they do when they're under the influence. Sounds reasonable enough."
Angel, also reminiscing on past experiences, sighed as he spoke. "Well the last few times I got one of these cases, the wife was cheating. Lorne's there to read her."
Spike's face held no expression. In truth, he was making small talk to steel himself for his next question. Serious conversation with Angel had never been entirely comfortable for him and this was going to be a touchy subject. "So, I got the basic gist of it from Gunn, but not the whole story." He paused as a puzzled Angel looked at him. "Connor."
Angel sighed. Having spent most of the last year with his friends in the dark about his son, he'd gotten used to not talking about him. In truth, he'd enjoyed it on some levels. It was the only bit of solitary brooding he was allowed to do. "Long story that I'm not going to get into. The quick version is that my son was a monster, just like his old man," he paused to steady himself, all the memories of their fights flooding back to him at once. "I was, no I am his father and I couldn't reach him. So when he was standing there in a store with a bomb strapped to his chest, I did what I had to do."
Spike took it all in and decided not to press the matter further. He knew asking for more information wouldn't get him anywhere. "Just trying to figure out why you're taking on another wayward soul is all. Given the banner year you've had…"
"I haven't had a good year since I first met Buffy," Angel interrupted. "Can't take a sabbatical because things aren't going the way I planned."
Spike snorted in response.
Angel frowned and looked back at Heather. This line of questioning was annoying him, but he was trying to hide it. "Why the sudden interest?"
"I keep going back to that night in the alley. We were supposed to die there. We were ready for it."
Angel quickly cut Spike off, knowing where he was going with this line of conversation. "Yeah I was. I'm ready to die every time I go into a fight. I don't plan on it or anything, but going into a fight worrying about whether you're going to win or lose means you're not going in at full strength.
Spike started to reply, but Angel cut him off again. "I hate repeating myself, but it's never about winning or losing. It's about what's at stake. There's never any final battle, no big win. The fight is all that matters. There's no…"
"Alright, I get it! You an' Buffy, always with the big movin' speeches."
Angel smirked. "It's part of being a champion."
Spike returned his smirk. "Thought you hated that word."
"I'm getting used to it," Angel replied with a slight laugh. He perked up and the smirk on his face quickly faded. Spike followed his gaze. Heather was now at the front of the line talking to the sales clerk.
Heather smiled at the guy ringing up her clothes. He was making a point of removing the security tags from her clothes and ringing them up slowly so as to get more time to hit on her. She couldn't say she was objecting. "So you go to UCLA too?" she asked with a bit of surprise in her voice.
Chance, the cashier, grinned from ear to ear. Working at the Gap had its benefits, namely the staggering number of attractive women that he ran across every day. Making small talk and getting a phone number was nothing new for him. "Just transferred from a junior college actually. This was just a summer job to get some book money."
"I just got back from study abroad in Europe," said Heather in an aren't-I-cool tone. "I took this job at a detective agency to pass the time. Only been there a week. The hours suck though. Mostly nights."
Chance decided to cut to the chase because he saw a girl by the sweater rack he wanted to get to before she left. "Well listen, umm…you just said you work nights and all, but if you're free tonight, I heard that Alpha Kappa Psi is having this party. Sort of a 'last party before returning to the mines' deal. If you're interested, maybe we could meet up there."
Heather smiled at Chance, who wrote down his phone number on her credit card receipt before bagging up her clothes. Spike and Angel looked none too pleased about the situation.
Spike spoke up first. "You still got that 'no eating humans' rule?"
"I'm willing to make an exception," Angel replied.
Gunn worked on hanging a punching bag while Illyria stared at him. As he stretched to the wooden beam in the ceiling to hang the bag, his shirt pulled up to reveal a scar. Gunn glanced over and noticed Illyria looking at his wound. "Okay, what's up?" he asked, annoyed at the constant staring. Unlike the others, Gunn hadn't spent too much time around Illyria and wasn't completely comfortable with a demon walking around in the body of someone he loved. He'd only been able to take five minutes of a vampire wearing his sister's face before he staked it. "You're doing that 'I have a question' stare instead of your usual 'you are all vermin' stare. You got something to say, say it."
Illyria obliged the mortal's request. She was fairly curious anyway. "That scar. How did you acquire it? I thought the wolf, ram, and hart healed all your injuries."
Gunn immediately regretted goading Illyria into questioning him. He figured Illyria got all the facts from Wesley, but apparently Wes left out a few things. He tried to sound normal in his reply, but his voice still cracked. "Oh this? This isn't from that night with the vamps. This is from when Wes stabbed me."
"Wesley did not tell me he assaulted you," Illyria stated, seemingly surprised at this new tidbit of information.
Gunn rubbed the wound as he replied. "Well, I think part of him regretted it. At least I'd like to hope part of him did," he paused to pull his shirt back down and went back to hanging the bag. "He had his reasons though."
Illyria looked at Gunn with the blank stare she'd always used with Wesley. "What were his reasons?"
"Do you have to ask so many damn questions!?" Gunn exclaimed. He wondered how Wesley had put up with this torture for so long. This was the longest amount of time he'd spent alone with Illyria and he was ready to hang himself. He resigned himself to his fate, knowing if he didn't answer now, he'd have to repeat this conversation later.
"Fred. It was Fred."
Illyria looked off into space, searching her memory. "There is a memory of you two coming to blows over Fred before. Is this the incident you refer to?"
"Nope. Something else. It was over you," Gunn replied, still not looking anywhere near Illyria's general direction.
Illyria's expression softened a bit. "Wesley attacked you to defend me?"
"Hell no," Gunn retorted. He looked at Illyria and quickly corrected himself. "I mean, it was about Fred i and /i you. I let you get into Fred's body and take over. Wes found out and wasn't too happy about it."
Illyria's visage returned to her hardened blank stare. The idea of Wesley becoming angry and defensive over her invoked a sense of joy that she refused to show Gunn.
"My coming was foretold. The Qua'Ha'Xahn told me this," she stated matter of factly. "You mean to tell me that you had a hand in my resurrection?"
Gunn still tried his best to not look at Illyria. He was actually done hanging the punching bag and was simply playing with the chain holding it to keep himself occupied.
"I signed a customs release…I mean, I let your coffin get into the lab in the first place. If it weren't for me, Fred will still be here and you wouldn't be."
"And you would prefer it that way," Illyria said with clear anger. "If you could change things, you bring Fred back."
"Without a second thought," Gunn quickly replied.
Illyria closed her eyes and reared her head back. Slowly, her god king form shifted into the visage of Fred. Her body armor changed to a pair of white khaki pants and an orange tank top, hair hung in pigtails. She looked the same as when Fred and Gunn first started dating.
Gunn caught the transformation out of the corner of his eye and stumbled back in fear. "What the hell," he half asked, with a mix of anger and shock.
"A simple modulation of," Illyria started before clearing her voice and continuing in Fred's voice. "It's a basic change of my physical form. My control of my body combined with the demonic powers allow me to shift my outward appearance based on my memories and since I'm talking to you and you don't like she of the icy blue, why the heck shouldn't I try to make things a little…"
"Change back," Gunn interrupted, his voice full of anger. He approached her fully prepared to fight, knowing he didn't stand a chance. "You're not her. Change back."
Fred's sweet smile dissolved into Illyria's familiar glare, even though she maintained Fred's look. She said nothing, instead choosing to stare at Gunn as Illyria under the guise of Fred.
"You heartless bitch," Gunn spat as he strode to Illyria. "I said change back."
Illyria stood there, almost taunting Gunn to attack her. She was testing exactly how stable he was. Having pretty much figured out how Angel, Spike, and Wesley felt about her presence, Charles Gunn was the only remaining mystery. This entire experience was a lesson to her. She stared off with Gunn until the sounds of an argument from the floor above interrupted them.
"Who the hell are you to tell me I can't go out with someone!?" Heather screamed as she entered the lobby.
Angel entered the lobby next, followed by Spike, who stopped and sat down on the stairs to the upper levels, wanting to avoid the train wreck he knew was coming.
"I didn't say you couldn't. Just said it wasn't a good idea. I mean, going to a frat party with a guy you don't know?…"
"Oh right because the frat is secretly worshipping demons and wants to sacrifice me."
"I've seen it happen before," Angel said as he tried to stifle a laugh. "Not to mention the fact that you're a Slayer now. Demons can pick up on that and might try to take you down."
"What, are you my dad now?" Heather retorted. "Did it ever occur to you that since ninety percent of the world doesn't know that monsters exist, maybe demons aren't attacking every helpless looking little girl? Just because this crap happens in your little pocket of the world all the friggin' time doesn't mean it happens to everyone else. Christ!"
With that rant out of the way, Heather stormed up the steps to her room to change for the party.
Spike's eyes follow her up the stairs before turning to meet Angel's. "Smooth, that. Almost three centuries old and you're still inept with women."
"Yeah, like you're so good at it. I'm sure that century with Dru was chock full of meaningful conversation."
"Had practice with the Niblet," Spike replied.
Angel replied to this with a look of disgust and Spike quickly got what he was implying. "Oh, not that kind of practice, you git."
Angel turned around to look at Connor, who was staring at him looking pissed.
"What's with you?"
"You're letting her go out with someone else?"
Angel sighed and went up the stairs to try talking to Heather again.
Lorne was hanging all of his suits in his closet when he heard Heather's voice from a few rooms down. She was singing in the shower. He quickly moved to the other side of the room to his makeshift bar, made a sea breeze and chugged it. "Gotta get a new room."
Angel stood outside Heather's door, taking an unnecessary deep breath before opening it. "Heather, we should talk." He stopped cold and quickly turned his head away, shielding his eyes.
Heather scrambled to cover herself with her towel. "Oh my God, what the hell is wrong with you!?" she screamed as she covered up. "You knock on a girl's door before just walking in!"
"I'm sorry. I didn't think…I'll just go," Angel stammered as he backed out of the room and shut the door. "Okay," he whispered to himself as he walked back towards the lobby. "Maybe not just like Connor."
"Three days around a slayer and you've already seen her naked," Spike said as he saw Angel coming back down the stairs. "At this rate, you'll be shagging her at the end of the week."
Angel shot him a look as he flopped down into the couch in the lobby.
"Oh, and you understand women so well, Spike?"
"Better than you," Spike muttered, perfectly aware of the benefits of vampire hearing.
Heather came bounding down the stairs of the Hyperion in a yellow sundress and white sandals. She was grinning from ear to ear and did a twirl in the lobby to show off her outfit.
"How do I look?" she asked.
Connor glanced up from his laptop to look at Heather and struggled to get a response out. "Umm…nice."
"Hey kid, you might want to pick that up off the ground," Gunn whispered to Connor.
"Pick what up?"
"Your jaw."
"Are you really going to out in that?" Angel asked with a disapproving look on his face.
Heather looked down at herself. By her standards, the outfit was pretty damn modest. She looked back at Angel looking for answers.
"I mean there's nothing wrong with the dress," Angel said, seeing the look in her eye. "It's just…well…how are you supposed to fight in that?"
Heather was caught off guard. She was expecting Angel to try to talk her out of going to the party, like he had on the car ride home. Now he was just questioning her attire.
"Well, I have a pair of leather pants upstairs. Would you rather I wear those?"
"Only if you've turned evil," Angel replied with a smirk. Spike snorted a laugh in the background.
"So you're okay with me going then," she asked, still not buying the one eighty Angel had done on the matter.
"Completely okay. Go have a good time," Angel said with as much sincerity as he could muster.
"Alright, well I'll see you boys later."
Heather waved and walked outside to get into the cab she'd called earlier. Angel watched from the door with a big grin on his face. As soon as the cab was gone, his smile faded and he turned back towards the lobby.
"Connor."
"Yeah?"
"Follow her."
"Right."
Heather swayed her hips to the music as she danced with Chance. The party had gone pretty well so far, despite Chance being a little more forward than she was used to. His hands roamed all over her body while they danced and she kept having to move them away. He'd already tried to kiss her once and she'd avoided it by feigning a sneeze. At the moment, he was behind her grinding his crotch into her and nuzzling her neck.
"You smell so nice," he whispered into her neck.
Part of her wanted to turn around and knock him out, but she didn't want to cause a scene. She'd already decided to blow him off before the end of the night. The party was full of good-looking guys she could hit on, even if most of them were standing in groups by themselves instead of mingling with the ladies. Her train of thought was interrupted by Chance kissing her neck. She pulled away and turned around to meet his eyes.
"Hey stud, don't move too fast. Night's still young. Why don't you get me a drink?" she said in her best seductive voice. In truth, she was trying to get him away for a minute so she could breathe.
Chance was getting frustrated. Normally he had his dates well on their way to being drunk by now, but this one was different. She'd turned down earlier offers for drinks in favor of dancing, which he wouldn't have a problem with if she weren't being such a prude. He'd only grabbed her ass once and she moved away before he could get any further. Her request for a drink caught him off guard, but he wanted to press the advantage.
"Sure. I'll be right back," he said before dashing off to the punch bowl. He stopped to take stock of the crowd. Lots of great looking girls were dancing with each other while a lot of the guys were huddled off in groups laughing and talking with each other. What the hell was wrong with them?
Connor was perched on a tree outside the frat house. He'd spent the last few hours peeking through windows looking for statues of demons or anything else occult related. Angel was all but convinced that something evil was going on. Part of him felt that his father was overreacting, but Connor was more concerned with Heather's date possibly being evil. He couldn't deny that the thought of pounding on the guy was appealing. Finding an unlocked window on the third floor, he climbed into a bedroom decorated with movie posters. i Typical. /i he thought to himself. He'd never been much for fraternities. The idea of paying to make friends seemed incredibly stupid. His dorm room was also a hell of a lot bigger than the cubbyhole he found himself in. The guy also seemed to be a big Colin Farrell fan. Every poster in the room was of one of his movies.
"Nothing strange so far, outside of crappy taste in movies," Connor muttered to himself. He heard voices and footsteps coming towards him and dashed back out the window. As he watched, two guys, one blonde and one redhead, entered the room. They both looked totally human, but Connor was getting a 'vibe'. There was something going on here, although he couldn't yet identify what it was. The blonde was obviously worried about something.
"I don't know," the blonde said worriedly. "I just don't think I'm ready for all this yet."
"You pledged to us for a reason, right?" the redhead asked pointedly. "Trust me you'll feel much better when it's over. Free. Empowered. Different…Stronger."
"I just don't think it's a good time. What about all those girls downstairs?" the blonde asked, still shaken. "What will they do?"
"Dude, after tonight, you're not going to have to worry about those girls," the redhead answered. "None of them are gonna matter. Hell, after tonight, they won't even exist."
Outside the window, Connor listened to the conversation. He whipped out his cell phone and dialed the Hyperion.
"Angel Investigations, we help the helpless," Angel's voice answered.
"Dad, get over here now!"
Angel hung up the phone and practically sprinted to the weapons cabinet. He'd had Spike, Gunn, and Lorne on alert in case they needed to invade the party. All of them had deliberately ignored his orders and were getting to the bottom of a case…of scotch. Now he got to spend the next thirty minutes saying 'I told you so' to them in the car ride over.
"Everyone gear up," he called out.
Angel grabbed his favorite broad sword and loaded up his wrist stakes as he walked to the door. He wasn't counting on vampires, but better safe than sorry. He looked back at his three friends, who were making zero effort to move from the table they were drinking at.
"Let's go, let's go. Frat boys to hurt," Angel said excitedly as he held the door open.
"Go yourself," Gunn called back. "I'm not making an ass of myself tonight."
"Haven't seen Peaches this giddy for a fight since the old days," Spike said. "If you ask me, he's a little too excited about pounding on frat ass."
Heather walked around the party looking for Chance. He'd gone off to use the bathroom about twenty minutes ago and hadn't returned. Part of her was glad to be rid of him, but the slayer in her wanted to be sure he wasn't getting eaten or anything. A cute guy in a sweater vest walked up to her.
"You looking for that guy you were with?" he asked, looking around the room.
"I think I got ditched," she replied, sizing the guy up.
"Shame. He was cute," the guy replied. "Anyhow, I saw him leave in a hurry a few minutes ago."
"That little punk."
"Yeah, sorry. I wish he stayed though. There aren't that many single people here. Too many couples."
Heather took a look around the room again. She still didn't see many of the guys standing with girls. Most of them were off in their own little worlds.
"What do you mean," she asked. "There's way more guys than girls here."
"Yeah, and they're all taken."
"The girls?"
"The guys."
Heather could almost hear the click in her mind as she finally got it. "Oh, so you're…"
"It's okay to say the word," the guy said, seeing her hesitation. "I'm not ashamed or anything."
"Gay," she finally finished.
"Not only that, but I have a little confession to make," he added. "I might've had something to do with your friend leaving." At Heather's confused look, he continued, "I saw him in the bathroom and made a pass at him. He bolted pretty quickly."
Heather was even more confused. Chance hadn't given off that vibe when they met, despite the obvious sign of working at the Gap. "What made you think he'd be into you? I mean guys in general, not that there's anything wrong with you."
"Sweetie, have you taken a good look around?"
Heather scanned the room again. This guy had said that a lot of the guests were couples, but all she saw were a bunch of guys standing with each other. Her eyes widened and her mouth formed an 'O' as another click went off in her head.
Angel strode from the car with purpose. Connor met him halfway up the steps to the front door and took a sword out of his hands. I knew I was right.Angel thought to himself. I wonder what kind of demon it is. He stopped at the front door, rolled his shoulders, popped his neck, and kicked the door in.
"Heather!" Angel yelled as he rushed in with his sword raised.
Everyone on the dance floor turned to look at Angel and Connor. Angel stood in a battle stance, his eyes scanning the room looking for Heather or any sign of a demon. Connor stood at his side doing the same. The guy who'd spoken to Heather earlier slowly approached Angel, hands raised in a peaceful manner.
"Dude, protesting isn't enough. Now you're busting in here with weapons."
"Protesting?" Angel asked, his temper getting worse by the second. "What the hell are you talking…" he grabbed the guy by the shirt and lifted him off the ground. "What are you doing here, huh? What demon are you worshipping?"
"Demon?!? Dude, let go of me."
"Angel!" Heather screamed as she pushed her way through the crowd. "Oh my God! Put him down!"
Angel held the guy in the air as Heather approached him. She looked fine physically. Bastards probably brainwashed her, he thought.
"Umm…dad," Connor said as he tugged at Angel's coat. His eyes were fixated on a couple of guys off to the side.
"What do you mean 'put him down,'" Angel asked Heather, still holding the guy up by his collar. "Connor said these guys were into something."
"Dad?"
Heather was thoroughly embarrassed by now and wanted to leave. She also wanted Angel to quit scaring the poor guy to death.
"Angel, just put him down and let's leave, okay?"
"Dad!" Connor yelled as he yanked Angel's arm and pointed to the guys in the corner. They were holding hands.
Angel's eyes scanned the rest of the room. He saw one guy with his arms around the waist of a smaller one. He looked up to the balcony and saw two guys groping each other. Finally, his brain put it together.
"Oh," he said, absentmindedly dropping his victim to the ground. "I thought…oh."
"I am so sorry about this," Heather said as she picked the guy up.
"Don't apologize," he replied as he regained his footing. "I like 'em a little rough."
Angel and Connor stood there looking like deer caught in headlights. A guy walked in the door behind them and slapped Connor on the ass.
"Hey!" Connor exclaimed as he grabbed his rear in shock.
The guy standing with Heather eyed Angel up and down. He grabbed Angel's bicep and gave it a squeeze. "Love the coat."
Angel and Connor walked into the Hyperion with dejected faces. Behind them, Heather walked in laughing her head off. She'd laughed the entire way home, teasing Angel and Connor in between all the I-told-you-so's.
"Are you done laughing yet?" Angel whined.
"Okay, okay I'm done," Heather answered before doubling over in laughter again. "That's what you guys get for not trusting me."
"Hey, I trusted you," Connor blurted out. "He made me follow you. I absolutely trust your judgment."
Heather rolled her eyes. Connor's attempts to be cool were cute. Very lame, but cute. She could definitely tell he was his father's son. She looked at her watch. It was still early. She could hit a club or two before calling it a night. She turned to walk out the door again.
"Whoa," Angel said as he blocked the door. "Where are you going?"
"Well, party was a bust, so I'm going to go clubbing. You're not going to follow me again, are you?"
Angel sighed. He hated being wrong. He hated being humiliated in public even more.
"No," he said, almost whispering to himself. "I won't."
She gave his arm a squeeze as she walked back out the door.
"Connor."
"Yeah?"
"Follow her."
"Right."
