CelticCat: German, Sumerian, and Etruscan. Are there any languages you
don't speak, or am I confusing you with someone else?
Imzadi: I'm building up to it. I'm not boring you am I?
Those who remain nameless: I've had 170 or so hits on this story since I posted Chapter five and they aren't all from those mentioned above. Thanks for reading, but how about you give me some advice on how you think this is going? I'm trying to improve but without your input it's impossible.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Angel blinked and squinted at the bright sunlight which flooded his room, he kicked the sheet from his legs and slipped out of the sleep crumpled bed. The sun was in the wrong place, it shouldn't be that high. He glanced at the clock and cursed under his breath as he padded into the bathroom, he had overslept it was after 10.00.
He stepped into the shower and gave himself a swift and invigorating blast of cool, almost cold water. He stood with his arms resting at his sides, letting the sharp needle like spray jets wake up his mind as well as his sluggish body.
The ghost image of Ariane from his dream was lingering in his mind like the fond memory of a lovers caress. Why was she asking for forgiveness from him? It was more likely his own subconscious projecting his need for absolution onto her. He couldn't shake the nagging question of why he dreamt of her so often. After all this time and out of all the people who had died either by his hand or as part of his quest, why was she so hard to forget?
He turned his face full into the strong spray, hoping the cleansing water would wash the dream out of his head. "Focus on finding the key." He thought to himself, attempting to replace one notion for another. Still her image remained as she lay dying in his arms.
He shook his head in frustration as he turned off the water and grasped for a towel. "Let the damned thing go and get back to work." He cursed under his breath.
He couldn't understand why no one had called him. Someone was usually on the phone if he was a couple of minutes late getting to the office.
He dressed quickly and stepped into his private elevator which descended to his office. He placed one foot beyond the sliding door to be faced by the beautiful but unexpected face of Cordelia.
"Morning, sleepy head." She smiled warmly and rose from his chair.
"Why didn't anyone wake me?" He grumbled and began sifting through the mail on his desk.
"I told them no to, that's why. I thought you could use the rest, you seemed tired." Tired wasn't the word she wanted to use but she didn't see the point in starting a conversation she couldn't finish. "Now you're here I can get back to my job." She picked up her purse and made toward the door. Before she could open it her purse started ringing.
"Damn it." She pulled some Kleenex, a lipstick, gum, and a bottle of scent from her deceptively small purse before she came out with the still chiming phone. "What?" She yelled when she finally flipped it open.
"Oh, it's you." Her tone softened and Angel turned his back on her and did his best to make himself look occupied. "Sure, for lunch. I'll meet you in the lobby at noon. Blake, it'll have to be quick I have some stuff to do this afternoon." She was almost whispering into the mouth piece and Angel shook his head and smiled.
For all his jealousy that he wasn't the one making her happy, it was great to see her smile. He heard her say goodbye and he coughed just to let her know he was still in the room.
"Making plans for lunch? I couldn't help, overhearing I mean." He murmured, flushing a pale pink. "I hope he's taking you somewhere nice."
"What makes you think it was a he?" She was as embarrassed as he was and she made a production of replacing the contents of her purse instead of looking at him.
"I don't know many women called Blake." He commented, this was a conversation they should have had weeks ago.
"Okay." She drew the word out, trying to think of something else to say.
"Blake Anderson, works in interdimensional property. Graduated from Harvard fifth in his class, sends ten percent of his salary to his mother in Ohio and plays on the company softball team. He sounds like an all round nice guy."
"He is." Those two small words seemed filled with regret and hope.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
It seemed the next time Angel's head rose from his desk it was well after lunch time. He rubbed his face and picked up his mug noticing as he was about to drink from it that it was empty.
"Harmony, any chance of a drink?" Angel released the intercom button and returned his attention to the file he had been reading.
Seconds later the door opened and Harmony, wearing a lime green mini dress and four inch heels, minced to his desk and deposited his mug of blood with a perfunctory smile.
"Anything else?" She enquired before making her way back to the door.
"What's on the books this afternoon?" He wasn't in the mood for anything heavy, lack of action was taking its toll. "Desk jockey atrophy", Fred had called it.
"Nothing, you're four thirty cancelled, so you're free for the afternoon. If you're going somewhere does that mean I can take the rest of the day off?" She beamed at him in anticipation.
"No." He beamed right back with false sincerity, sometimes being boss was fun.
"Typical." She sulked as she closed the door behind her.
Angel closed the folder and pushed his chair back from his desk, stretching his arms over his head and popping his shoulders. He was in the process of getting up when his door flew open and Spike strode in looking stormy. Angel could hear Harmony outside protesting at Spikes intrusion.
"Oh, shut up woman." He yelled, slamming the door and cutting her off in mid-flow.
"Something I can do for you, Spike?" Angel sighed, he didn't even seem to have the energy to be angry with him today.
"I need a car." He stood in front of Angel's desk with his hands deep in his pockets and waited.
"I told you before, if you can't afford to buy one on what we pay you then that's tough."
"I need to borrow a car and those nazis you have in the garage won't let me take one. So you have two options, sort it out with them or I boost one of yours and make sure to wreck it while I'm out." Spike smirked and shifted his weight from one foot to the other.
"What do you need it for?"
"I'm investigating something for Gunn, I want to tail someone. Am I going to have to justify my every move to you? If that's the way it is you know where you can shove it."
"You can take one of the pool cars." Angel lifted his telephone and dialled the transport division.
"Is that it? No arguments, no wise cracks? What happened, Angel, someone pick you up on your people skills."
"Do you want the car, or do you want me to answer that?" He asked removing the phone from his ear and staring squarely at Spike.
"It better not be some clapped out rust bucket." He muttered, slouching out of the door.
When Spike reached the garage he noticed a car sitting close to the elevators. New, tinted windows, not too shabby. "Can't be that one then." He thought just as an attendant walked over to him with the keys in his outstretched hand.
"You must be Spike." The man grinned, "Boss said you needed something with the necro option."
"Yeah? Ta." Spike took the keys and wondered what had blew up the poof's dress and made him so damned accommodating all of a sudden.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Spike spent the next few hours sitting, slumped in the car outside of the home of Paul Nardino. The same address that he had given to Gunn earlier that week. Two guys had driven in to the walled estate over an hour ago, one of them leaving shortly after, but since then there had been no movement what so ever. He was starting to get board when he noticed a car off to his left, which had been there since he arrived. He could see someone slouched in almost the same position as he was himself. The figure sat up, presumably to find a more comfortable position and to his astonishment it was Wesley.
The sun was setting but not enough for it to be advisable for him to take a wander, so he settled for calling the ex-watchers cell phone.
"Wyndam-Pryce." Wesley answered the vibrating cell with crisp and businesslike politeness.
"All right, Percy?" Spike chuckled, he always liked the very well-mannered way Wes did things, like insisting on announcing himself on the phone.
"What do you want, Spike." Wesley sighed, his voice was filled with frustration.
"Just thought you looked bored." Spike countered.
"Looked? Oh, for pities sake, that's you in the black .....oh isn't this just wonderful." Wesley was having a very restrained and British fit in the car, Spike watched and chortled to himself as Wes climbed out and strode over to where he was waiting.
"What in God's name are you doing here." Wesley spat at him as the window descended. "Are you following me?"
"Why would I want to do that?" Spike grumbled, just as put out by Wesley's presence as the other man. "Have you seen her yet?"
"Who?" Wesley asked hanging on to the grim hope that they were there for different reasons.
"Ariane, you pillock, who do you think?" Wesley disguised his disappointment with a shake of his head.
"I haven't seen anyone. I was toying with the idea of knocking on the door and asking if she was at home."
"Oh yeah, good plan. scuse me guv'nor but can Ariane come out to play?" Spike shot the man an unconvinced look.
"If you have a better suggestion, I'd dearly love to hear it?" Wes expressed with barely disguised scorn.
Spike shrugged, he had planned to just hang around outside until Ari made an appearance. "We'll have to get our story straight." He muttered and directed his eyes elsewhere as he often did when he was sulking. "Otherwise they're bound to think there's something suss about us."
"About you perhaps." Wesley answered curtly. "We could simply say we're relatives."
"You don't think the lack of family resemblance could be an issue?" Spike attempted to contain his frustration.
As they were discussing their options Rob and Ari pulled out of the driveway in a cab, heading in the opposite direction from where Spike and Wesley were parked. Spike started the engine while Wesley jumped into the car and they raced after them.
"Don't get too close, they'll spot us." Wesley warned Spike, bouncing like a four year old filled with excitement in the passenger seat.
"I don't think they're looking for anyone to be following them, but thanks for the advice, I'm sooo not used to stalking." Spike drawled with cutting sarcasm.
They followed the cab until it halted in front of a night club called Flamers where they watched eagerly as Rob got out of the car and strolled around to open the door for Ari.
"Who's prince flipping charming, do you think?" Spike asked indicating the handsome, athletic figure of Rob, looking very dashing in a loose, white, open neck shirt and snug fitting black Wranglers. He had not intended his words to sound so resentful.
"Jealous, Spike?" Wes enquired, unable to keep the mirth from his own voice.
"Shove it, four eyes." Spike retorted. They drove off to find a parking spot before Ari got out of the car.
Wesley and Spike entered Flamers, which was bursting at the seams. They scanned the throng for Ari and her date, splitting up and taking different routes around the packed venue. Spike approached the bar, shoved his way to the front and ordered two club sodas from a very polite barman. He sipped his drink and winced, how people could stand to drink the stuff amazed him but he had consumed enough alcohol over the last few days. He checked down the length of the bar and thought it odd that there seemed to be very few guy/girl couples drinking there. It took only seconds for the obvious explanation to dawn on him. He picked up Wesley's drink and stormed back to him looking seriously cheesed off.
"She's over there." Wes nodded toward a small group sitting at a table across the room, not far from the entrance. "What's wrong with you?" He asked when he noticed Spikes expression.
"Didn't you notice the supreme lack of fanciable skirt in here?" He asked the question already aware that Wes was oblivious to their whereabouts. "It's wall to wall sensible shoes." He pointed out.
"Sorry?" Wes wasn't following and Spike wasn't in the least bit surprised.
"We're in a bloody gay bar." Spike bellowed, loudly enough to attract assorted scowls and frowns from several people standing close by.
Wesley gave the room a more serious inspection and noticed Spike was right, the dance floor was filled with same sex couples dancing and flirting with each other.
"Pardon me but I noticed you when you came in and I haven't been able to take my eyes off you since. Would you care to dance?" A very pretty, dark haired man stood in front of Spike. His eyes, complete with emerald green tinted contact lenses, roamed all over Spike as though devouring him.
"On yer bike, Charlie, I'm spoken for." He shot, giving the man a disgusted look and pointed toward Wesley nervously.
"Well, you were worth a try." He lilted as he stuck a card between the buttons of Spike's shirt. "If you ever feel like a change, look me up." Spike removed the card and shuddered.
"Homophobe." Wes whispered.
"Damn right, bloody queers give me the willies. Eh, that didn't come out right." Spike muttered shaking his head as Wesley stifled a snigger.
"So we found her, what do we do now?" Spike asked, swiftly changing the subject.
"I'm not sure." Wesley pondered the situation as Spike turned his back on the dance floor and leaned on the balustrade he and Wes were standing beside.
He watched Ari and the two men chatting and wondered if what he felt was real happiness at seeing her or if it was just another one of her mind tricks. His feelings were tempered by anger and frustration when he considered the time he had spent dwelling on her death. All the one sided conversations he had over the past eight months began rebounding around in his head like manic pinball's.
Ariane had a weird feeling of being watched. There was nothing sinister in it, she just felt she was being observed. She put it down to her complete lack of social experience, but she couldn't help herself from scanning the crowded bar to see if she caught anyone looking at her, or if she saw anyone she recognised. Not that that was exactly likely due to the fact that the only gay people she knew were sitting opposite her. Anyone else she knew wouldn't have looked for her in a place like this, if they looked for her at all.
"Are we boring you?" Rob asked when he noticed her gazing at the throng.
"No, not at all, I'm sorry." She stumbled over her words, nerves and tension getting the better of her..
"This isn't quite your scene, is it sweetie?" Jeff smiled.
"Annie's still trying to find her scene." Rob answered for her. "For all we know she could be "super-gay girl".
"I believe she's taller than I am." Ari replied with a good natured wink over the rim of her glass, she and Rob had discussed her sexuality before.
"Are you sure you don't want something stronger than that?" Jeff pointed to her diet soda and wrinkled his nose with distaste.
"No thanks, I'm driving." Jeff didn't know her well enough to recognise her attempt at humour so he looked to Rob for confirmation. While his head was turned he noticed Spike staring at them.
"Do you know any drop dead gorgeous, peroxide blondes?" He raised an eyebrow in Rob's direction, wondering if his new beau had a past that he hadn't shared.
"Not that I can think of, I'm not into blondes as a rule." He followed the direction of Jeff's stare and spotted Spike. "Though for him I think I could make an exception."
"Shift your arse, Percy, we've been rumbled." Spike was off his mark before the last word had passed his lips with Wesley scampering along behind moving on pure instinct.
Ariane's eyes shot to the area Jeff and Rob were staring at, her heart hammering in her chest before she could think sensibly. She saw no one she recognised, but she also saw no blonde men in the vicinity. It couldn't be Spike, could it? What would he be doing in a place like this, unless he was following her?
"Don't be stupid." She scolded herself. "Why would he bother, anyway, he's a spirit." It was a good argument but she couldn't shake the notion that things were changing. Perhaps it was the dreams, perhaps it was wishful thinking.
"Did she see us?" Wesley gasped as they snuck through the door on the opposite side from where the trio sat.
"I'm not sure, but the blokes she's with did. What if she does a runner?" Spike asked when they were outside.
"She's not going anywhere." Wesley replied and for once Spike didn't feel like arguing.
"Do we tell Angel?" It was a good question.
"Not yet." Wesley was far from convinced it was the right thing to do, but he was sure it couldn't do any harm to wait one more day.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Supreme Rathlyn." Snort stood shivering and wondered if he was going to keep his head.
"What is it?" Rathlyn snarled and took another mammoth bite from the charred and dripping boars leg he held in his huge fist.
"There has been another development with the key." When the warrior grunted, Snort continued.
"She is being followed, sire."
"By whom?" Rathlyn threw down the half eaten leg and glowered at Snort. The look alone enough to make the man swallow hard and curse his bad luck for being given this task.
"Two men from the demon lawyers, Wolfram & Hart." He managed to squeak through his stress narrowed windpipe.
"What do they want with her?" Rathlyn pondered, more to himself than the simpering man at his side. He snatched up a flagon and took three long swallows of the burning yellow fluid. He had grown very fond of the highly potent digestive acid of the Kruplar. He swiped at his dripping chin with a slick black hand and threw the empty flagon into the roaring fire.
"They did not approach her, Supreme Rathlyn, they seem to be only monitoring her for the moment." Snort watched Rathlyn consume his beverage with a mixture of horror and disgust. Warriors had no manners.
"Then we take her, quickly." Rathlyn snarled, his throat now raw and tingling. Finally things were moving in his preferred direction. Rathlyn was sick and tired of waiting for the right time. He was a warrior and all this inactivity was infuriating, though necessary if they were to remain anonymous. "I will instruct my men to seize her when she is alone, it would not do to have Wolfram & Hart alerted to our presence here."
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Look down and left, you are one click away from making or breaking my day. Go on, I dare you.
Imzadi: I'm building up to it. I'm not boring you am I?
Those who remain nameless: I've had 170 or so hits on this story since I posted Chapter five and they aren't all from those mentioned above. Thanks for reading, but how about you give me some advice on how you think this is going? I'm trying to improve but without your input it's impossible.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Angel blinked and squinted at the bright sunlight which flooded his room, he kicked the sheet from his legs and slipped out of the sleep crumpled bed. The sun was in the wrong place, it shouldn't be that high. He glanced at the clock and cursed under his breath as he padded into the bathroom, he had overslept it was after 10.00.
He stepped into the shower and gave himself a swift and invigorating blast of cool, almost cold water. He stood with his arms resting at his sides, letting the sharp needle like spray jets wake up his mind as well as his sluggish body.
The ghost image of Ariane from his dream was lingering in his mind like the fond memory of a lovers caress. Why was she asking for forgiveness from him? It was more likely his own subconscious projecting his need for absolution onto her. He couldn't shake the nagging question of why he dreamt of her so often. After all this time and out of all the people who had died either by his hand or as part of his quest, why was she so hard to forget?
He turned his face full into the strong spray, hoping the cleansing water would wash the dream out of his head. "Focus on finding the key." He thought to himself, attempting to replace one notion for another. Still her image remained as she lay dying in his arms.
He shook his head in frustration as he turned off the water and grasped for a towel. "Let the damned thing go and get back to work." He cursed under his breath.
He couldn't understand why no one had called him. Someone was usually on the phone if he was a couple of minutes late getting to the office.
He dressed quickly and stepped into his private elevator which descended to his office. He placed one foot beyond the sliding door to be faced by the beautiful but unexpected face of Cordelia.
"Morning, sleepy head." She smiled warmly and rose from his chair.
"Why didn't anyone wake me?" He grumbled and began sifting through the mail on his desk.
"I told them no to, that's why. I thought you could use the rest, you seemed tired." Tired wasn't the word she wanted to use but she didn't see the point in starting a conversation she couldn't finish. "Now you're here I can get back to my job." She picked up her purse and made toward the door. Before she could open it her purse started ringing.
"Damn it." She pulled some Kleenex, a lipstick, gum, and a bottle of scent from her deceptively small purse before she came out with the still chiming phone. "What?" She yelled when she finally flipped it open.
"Oh, it's you." Her tone softened and Angel turned his back on her and did his best to make himself look occupied. "Sure, for lunch. I'll meet you in the lobby at noon. Blake, it'll have to be quick I have some stuff to do this afternoon." She was almost whispering into the mouth piece and Angel shook his head and smiled.
For all his jealousy that he wasn't the one making her happy, it was great to see her smile. He heard her say goodbye and he coughed just to let her know he was still in the room.
"Making plans for lunch? I couldn't help, overhearing I mean." He murmured, flushing a pale pink. "I hope he's taking you somewhere nice."
"What makes you think it was a he?" She was as embarrassed as he was and she made a production of replacing the contents of her purse instead of looking at him.
"I don't know many women called Blake." He commented, this was a conversation they should have had weeks ago.
"Okay." She drew the word out, trying to think of something else to say.
"Blake Anderson, works in interdimensional property. Graduated from Harvard fifth in his class, sends ten percent of his salary to his mother in Ohio and plays on the company softball team. He sounds like an all round nice guy."
"He is." Those two small words seemed filled with regret and hope.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
It seemed the next time Angel's head rose from his desk it was well after lunch time. He rubbed his face and picked up his mug noticing as he was about to drink from it that it was empty.
"Harmony, any chance of a drink?" Angel released the intercom button and returned his attention to the file he had been reading.
Seconds later the door opened and Harmony, wearing a lime green mini dress and four inch heels, minced to his desk and deposited his mug of blood with a perfunctory smile.
"Anything else?" She enquired before making her way back to the door.
"What's on the books this afternoon?" He wasn't in the mood for anything heavy, lack of action was taking its toll. "Desk jockey atrophy", Fred had called it.
"Nothing, you're four thirty cancelled, so you're free for the afternoon. If you're going somewhere does that mean I can take the rest of the day off?" She beamed at him in anticipation.
"No." He beamed right back with false sincerity, sometimes being boss was fun.
"Typical." She sulked as she closed the door behind her.
Angel closed the folder and pushed his chair back from his desk, stretching his arms over his head and popping his shoulders. He was in the process of getting up when his door flew open and Spike strode in looking stormy. Angel could hear Harmony outside protesting at Spikes intrusion.
"Oh, shut up woman." He yelled, slamming the door and cutting her off in mid-flow.
"Something I can do for you, Spike?" Angel sighed, he didn't even seem to have the energy to be angry with him today.
"I need a car." He stood in front of Angel's desk with his hands deep in his pockets and waited.
"I told you before, if you can't afford to buy one on what we pay you then that's tough."
"I need to borrow a car and those nazis you have in the garage won't let me take one. So you have two options, sort it out with them or I boost one of yours and make sure to wreck it while I'm out." Spike smirked and shifted his weight from one foot to the other.
"What do you need it for?"
"I'm investigating something for Gunn, I want to tail someone. Am I going to have to justify my every move to you? If that's the way it is you know where you can shove it."
"You can take one of the pool cars." Angel lifted his telephone and dialled the transport division.
"Is that it? No arguments, no wise cracks? What happened, Angel, someone pick you up on your people skills."
"Do you want the car, or do you want me to answer that?" He asked removing the phone from his ear and staring squarely at Spike.
"It better not be some clapped out rust bucket." He muttered, slouching out of the door.
When Spike reached the garage he noticed a car sitting close to the elevators. New, tinted windows, not too shabby. "Can't be that one then." He thought just as an attendant walked over to him with the keys in his outstretched hand.
"You must be Spike." The man grinned, "Boss said you needed something with the necro option."
"Yeah? Ta." Spike took the keys and wondered what had blew up the poof's dress and made him so damned accommodating all of a sudden.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Spike spent the next few hours sitting, slumped in the car outside of the home of Paul Nardino. The same address that he had given to Gunn earlier that week. Two guys had driven in to the walled estate over an hour ago, one of them leaving shortly after, but since then there had been no movement what so ever. He was starting to get board when he noticed a car off to his left, which had been there since he arrived. He could see someone slouched in almost the same position as he was himself. The figure sat up, presumably to find a more comfortable position and to his astonishment it was Wesley.
The sun was setting but not enough for it to be advisable for him to take a wander, so he settled for calling the ex-watchers cell phone.
"Wyndam-Pryce." Wesley answered the vibrating cell with crisp and businesslike politeness.
"All right, Percy?" Spike chuckled, he always liked the very well-mannered way Wes did things, like insisting on announcing himself on the phone.
"What do you want, Spike." Wesley sighed, his voice was filled with frustration.
"Just thought you looked bored." Spike countered.
"Looked? Oh, for pities sake, that's you in the black .....oh isn't this just wonderful." Wesley was having a very restrained and British fit in the car, Spike watched and chortled to himself as Wes climbed out and strode over to where he was waiting.
"What in God's name are you doing here." Wesley spat at him as the window descended. "Are you following me?"
"Why would I want to do that?" Spike grumbled, just as put out by Wesley's presence as the other man. "Have you seen her yet?"
"Who?" Wesley asked hanging on to the grim hope that they were there for different reasons.
"Ariane, you pillock, who do you think?" Wesley disguised his disappointment with a shake of his head.
"I haven't seen anyone. I was toying with the idea of knocking on the door and asking if she was at home."
"Oh yeah, good plan. scuse me guv'nor but can Ariane come out to play?" Spike shot the man an unconvinced look.
"If you have a better suggestion, I'd dearly love to hear it?" Wes expressed with barely disguised scorn.
Spike shrugged, he had planned to just hang around outside until Ari made an appearance. "We'll have to get our story straight." He muttered and directed his eyes elsewhere as he often did when he was sulking. "Otherwise they're bound to think there's something suss about us."
"About you perhaps." Wesley answered curtly. "We could simply say we're relatives."
"You don't think the lack of family resemblance could be an issue?" Spike attempted to contain his frustration.
As they were discussing their options Rob and Ari pulled out of the driveway in a cab, heading in the opposite direction from where Spike and Wesley were parked. Spike started the engine while Wesley jumped into the car and they raced after them.
"Don't get too close, they'll spot us." Wesley warned Spike, bouncing like a four year old filled with excitement in the passenger seat.
"I don't think they're looking for anyone to be following them, but thanks for the advice, I'm sooo not used to stalking." Spike drawled with cutting sarcasm.
They followed the cab until it halted in front of a night club called Flamers where they watched eagerly as Rob got out of the car and strolled around to open the door for Ari.
"Who's prince flipping charming, do you think?" Spike asked indicating the handsome, athletic figure of Rob, looking very dashing in a loose, white, open neck shirt and snug fitting black Wranglers. He had not intended his words to sound so resentful.
"Jealous, Spike?" Wes enquired, unable to keep the mirth from his own voice.
"Shove it, four eyes." Spike retorted. They drove off to find a parking spot before Ari got out of the car.
Wesley and Spike entered Flamers, which was bursting at the seams. They scanned the throng for Ari and her date, splitting up and taking different routes around the packed venue. Spike approached the bar, shoved his way to the front and ordered two club sodas from a very polite barman. He sipped his drink and winced, how people could stand to drink the stuff amazed him but he had consumed enough alcohol over the last few days. He checked down the length of the bar and thought it odd that there seemed to be very few guy/girl couples drinking there. It took only seconds for the obvious explanation to dawn on him. He picked up Wesley's drink and stormed back to him looking seriously cheesed off.
"She's over there." Wes nodded toward a small group sitting at a table across the room, not far from the entrance. "What's wrong with you?" He asked when he noticed Spikes expression.
"Didn't you notice the supreme lack of fanciable skirt in here?" He asked the question already aware that Wes was oblivious to their whereabouts. "It's wall to wall sensible shoes." He pointed out.
"Sorry?" Wes wasn't following and Spike wasn't in the least bit surprised.
"We're in a bloody gay bar." Spike bellowed, loudly enough to attract assorted scowls and frowns from several people standing close by.
Wesley gave the room a more serious inspection and noticed Spike was right, the dance floor was filled with same sex couples dancing and flirting with each other.
"Pardon me but I noticed you when you came in and I haven't been able to take my eyes off you since. Would you care to dance?" A very pretty, dark haired man stood in front of Spike. His eyes, complete with emerald green tinted contact lenses, roamed all over Spike as though devouring him.
"On yer bike, Charlie, I'm spoken for." He shot, giving the man a disgusted look and pointed toward Wesley nervously.
"Well, you were worth a try." He lilted as he stuck a card between the buttons of Spike's shirt. "If you ever feel like a change, look me up." Spike removed the card and shuddered.
"Homophobe." Wes whispered.
"Damn right, bloody queers give me the willies. Eh, that didn't come out right." Spike muttered shaking his head as Wesley stifled a snigger.
"So we found her, what do we do now?" Spike asked, swiftly changing the subject.
"I'm not sure." Wesley pondered the situation as Spike turned his back on the dance floor and leaned on the balustrade he and Wes were standing beside.
He watched Ari and the two men chatting and wondered if what he felt was real happiness at seeing her or if it was just another one of her mind tricks. His feelings were tempered by anger and frustration when he considered the time he had spent dwelling on her death. All the one sided conversations he had over the past eight months began rebounding around in his head like manic pinball's.
Ariane had a weird feeling of being watched. There was nothing sinister in it, she just felt she was being observed. She put it down to her complete lack of social experience, but she couldn't help herself from scanning the crowded bar to see if she caught anyone looking at her, or if she saw anyone she recognised. Not that that was exactly likely due to the fact that the only gay people she knew were sitting opposite her. Anyone else she knew wouldn't have looked for her in a place like this, if they looked for her at all.
"Are we boring you?" Rob asked when he noticed her gazing at the throng.
"No, not at all, I'm sorry." She stumbled over her words, nerves and tension getting the better of her..
"This isn't quite your scene, is it sweetie?" Jeff smiled.
"Annie's still trying to find her scene." Rob answered for her. "For all we know she could be "super-gay girl".
"I believe she's taller than I am." Ari replied with a good natured wink over the rim of her glass, she and Rob had discussed her sexuality before.
"Are you sure you don't want something stronger than that?" Jeff pointed to her diet soda and wrinkled his nose with distaste.
"No thanks, I'm driving." Jeff didn't know her well enough to recognise her attempt at humour so he looked to Rob for confirmation. While his head was turned he noticed Spike staring at them.
"Do you know any drop dead gorgeous, peroxide blondes?" He raised an eyebrow in Rob's direction, wondering if his new beau had a past that he hadn't shared.
"Not that I can think of, I'm not into blondes as a rule." He followed the direction of Jeff's stare and spotted Spike. "Though for him I think I could make an exception."
"Shift your arse, Percy, we've been rumbled." Spike was off his mark before the last word had passed his lips with Wesley scampering along behind moving on pure instinct.
Ariane's eyes shot to the area Jeff and Rob were staring at, her heart hammering in her chest before she could think sensibly. She saw no one she recognised, but she also saw no blonde men in the vicinity. It couldn't be Spike, could it? What would he be doing in a place like this, unless he was following her?
"Don't be stupid." She scolded herself. "Why would he bother, anyway, he's a spirit." It was a good argument but she couldn't shake the notion that things were changing. Perhaps it was the dreams, perhaps it was wishful thinking.
"Did she see us?" Wesley gasped as they snuck through the door on the opposite side from where the trio sat.
"I'm not sure, but the blokes she's with did. What if she does a runner?" Spike asked when they were outside.
"She's not going anywhere." Wesley replied and for once Spike didn't feel like arguing.
"Do we tell Angel?" It was a good question.
"Not yet." Wesley was far from convinced it was the right thing to do, but he was sure it couldn't do any harm to wait one more day.
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"Supreme Rathlyn." Snort stood shivering and wondered if he was going to keep his head.
"What is it?" Rathlyn snarled and took another mammoth bite from the charred and dripping boars leg he held in his huge fist.
"There has been another development with the key." When the warrior grunted, Snort continued.
"She is being followed, sire."
"By whom?" Rathlyn threw down the half eaten leg and glowered at Snort. The look alone enough to make the man swallow hard and curse his bad luck for being given this task.
"Two men from the demon lawyers, Wolfram & Hart." He managed to squeak through his stress narrowed windpipe.
"What do they want with her?" Rathlyn pondered, more to himself than the simpering man at his side. He snatched up a flagon and took three long swallows of the burning yellow fluid. He had grown very fond of the highly potent digestive acid of the Kruplar. He swiped at his dripping chin with a slick black hand and threw the empty flagon into the roaring fire.
"They did not approach her, Supreme Rathlyn, they seem to be only monitoring her for the moment." Snort watched Rathlyn consume his beverage with a mixture of horror and disgust. Warriors had no manners.
"Then we take her, quickly." Rathlyn snarled, his throat now raw and tingling. Finally things were moving in his preferred direction. Rathlyn was sick and tired of waiting for the right time. He was a warrior and all this inactivity was infuriating, though necessary if they were to remain anonymous. "I will instruct my men to seize her when she is alone, it would not do to have Wolfram & Hart alerted to our presence here."
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Look down and left, you are one click away from making or breaking my day. Go on, I dare you.