Angel stormed down the stairs before punching a brick pillar in his basement apartment. He could feel his true face hovering closer to the surface. He had expected that Willow might get into trouble but he wouldn't have guessed what he had found at Franz's penthouse. Angel clenched his fists as the images haunted him. Willow pressed against Franz on the floor, blood on her lips, his touch all over her, lost to the Lingering Kiss. The worst had been Franz's smirk as Willow left the room. The Dutchman had gazed after her with eyes that burned with possession. Then Franz had turned to Angel.
"You've frightened her away." Franz had crossed his arms, satisfaction oozing from his stance, and lifted his lips into a sneer. He had looked thoroughly debauched in the dim light and it brought to mind memories long since buried of the dark games that Darla would preside over in the murky past. Willow's scent lingered over him.
"Don't act like you've won, Franz." Angel had took a step forward before being blocked by a human with a stake in one hand and a gun in the other. "Whatever plans that you've cooked up with Lawson, leave her out of it. She's not apart of this territory dispute."
"Indeed not, she isn't. This is entirely personal." Franz laughed. "Your formal claim has been dissolved by the Order. Willow is her own woman now."
"She hasn't chosen you, she just couldn't get me." Angel wore a smug expression worthy of Angelus even as doubt rubbed at him. Both the caged beast within and the man in control of it fell into agreement about wanting Franz dust.
Franz's smirk faded. "Don't be so triumphant, Angel, you required a curse to bind her to you. All I offered was sincere friendship and she came to me of her own accord."
"She was desperate." Angel snorted, but he thought back to a stray comment that Willow had made the morning after he had been en-souled. "So, I could ask Franz to pop open a vein and it would work just the same?" Angel had the uncomfortable realization that Franz could have been laying the foundations for this since the moment he had laid eyes on Willow. All that time alone together... Just because Franz had never touched her, it didn't mean that he hadn't whispered honeyed lies into Willow's ear. Why? Franz always had more than one angle.
"And whoever drove her to desperation?" Franz strode almost into Angel's reach and tilted his head. "Who tossed her to the wolves and abandoned her to suffer the cravings alone? This is as much your doing as mine. I suppose I should thank you." Franz grinned. "Willow was delicious." He stepped back with a chuckle as Angel lunged for him and was pulled back by the guards, another of which hit him across the face.
Angel shook off the blow. "Pieterzoon, I suppose this is about the council seat. You've might stewed for centuries after I wooed Darla and her inheritance away from you, but you won't corrupt Willow to get to me."
"Indeed, you wooed our sire then you killed her after all she bestowed upon you. Willow is only safe in your care until you grow bored with her and find another. " Franz's expression turned arctic. "You've done the corrupting for me already. Never would have I thought of inflicting the Lingering Kiss on the poor girl, but then again, your flair for torment had surpassed mine centuries ago." He nodded to the guards. "Throw him out. I grow weary of this exchange."
Angel had let the human guards drag him out but the promise of revenge remained on his face. Anger burned through him as he drove to Willow's apartment to see if she was home. Then he cut people off on the road as he returned to his haunt, before stomping through the office, ignoring Spike and Doyle, down to his basement apartment. Angel threw himself at his punching bag to let all that pent up rage out without causing property damage. Striking it in rapid bursts that would have been too fast for the human eye, he growled as he punched it hard enough to knock it off its hook and send it flying across the floor. There went the hope for no property damage.
"Oi, what's bunching up your knickers?" Spike asked as he jumped over the canvas bag that skidded past him to bump against a brick pillar. Behind the smirk, there was concern. He tilted his head, scanning Angel, gaze lingering on the bruises on his face.
Angel gritted his teeth and gave Spike a bitter side glance. In his mind, he was still walking into the penthouse to see Willow straddling Franz as she drank his blood. Her long dark hair didn't fully cover her closed eyes and tense fingers as she clung to Franz. A sheer blouse lay discarded on the floor. Angel could remember the sight of Franz's hands on her hips. well enough to draw them. "I know where Lawson is. He's expecting me to wait and scope him out while I'm distracted with Franz. I'm not."
"So, we're going with plan C for crazy, then?" Doyle arrived behind Spike from the staircase. The seer looked worried, a hint of scotch on his breath, and raised his hands in defeat. "Where is he then?"
"The townhouse that Angelus bought from Wolfram and Hart." Angel forced himself to cross his arms and take an unnecessary breath. "Willow brought me three possible locations and when I saw the address, I knew."
"How did you reckon that one?" Spike arched his eyebrow and snorted. He patted down his pockets for his cigarettes and frowned when he found only a empty pack that he crushed and tossed in a nearby trash can.
"Lawson is trying to take my place. They wouldn't pass up on the symbolism." Angel shook his head.
Spike frowned and the rough rock and roll guise fell as contemplation stole over his features. "What happened? Suspiciously eager for a showdown." He stepped up to Angel. "Come home with a black eye. Won't tell us a thing. Doesn't make me want to follow you into a Burger King let alone a fight."
Doyle pipped up. "Angel, mate, be reasonable."
"Franz. He-" Angel growled. He had known Franz for over two-hundred and fifty-two years. When they had first met, Angel had picked a fight from jealousy after Darla had taken Franz to her bed. It had ended with him hung over a Parisian balcony but he had diverted Darla's affections in the long run. Angel had won next time they had fought over a century later. After that he hadn't considered Franz a threat as a romantic rival. Darla and Franz had seemed to grow distant long before Angelus had been souled however as Franz began hiring himself out to other masters before the Seven Years War. Angel had been more concerned about being overcharged when he hired Franz after his curse had been lifted. It hadn't occurred to him, souled or not, that Franz would be a danger even to Willow unless directed. He had been too concerned elsewhere. "I don't know what happened but I know that he had to have manipulated her."
"Are we talking about that Willow chit and Franz? Walked in on them necking?" Spike nodded and raised a finger thoughtfully. "I thought he had a weird thing for her. Always brushing her hair and dressing her like Jackie O."
Angel shot Spike a cold look while he could have kicked himself. He had missed too many signs. Now all he wanted for answers.
"They were literally necking?" Spike shrugged and attempted a mournful expression that looked more befuddled than anything. "Er, I'm sorry she's dead?"
Angel glared. Remembering how solemn Willow looked on her apartment balcony, when saw her through the gates of her apartment's courtyard as he walked up into the light of the garden to make sure that Franz had let her go. His demon fought to reclaim every inch of his territory from Franz and Lawson, but his soul felt weighted by the guilt of the loss. Their eyes had met but he turned from her to return to the gloom. "No, she's alive. I made sure of it."
"Oh. So, she's gotten back to full mojo then? Why don't we have Glinda zip on down here and lend a wand?" Spike rubbed his hands. "Right. Make lemonade out of the lemons."
"She's already too involved with this." Angel paced before making himself sit down on a ottoman.
"And, you're hoping that Franz will be there so you can get your lumps in." Doyle nodded as he leaned against a pillar and crossed his arms over his rumpled button down shirt.. "We're going to need more ice and scotch before whatever comes out of your mouth turns into a good plan."
Spike pulled out a bill and tucked it into Doyle's hand. "Smokes."
"Not inside." Angel rubbed his hand through his hair as he leaned over to rest his elbow on his knee, trying to think of a plan when all he wanted to do was inflict some hurt on his wayward clan.
"Bullocks. And I wanted to give you secondhand cancer." Spike joked and then rolled his eyes when Angel ignored him. "When we going to charge into the place like heroes then?"
"Sunset."
OOO
Lawson awoke with a grunt when he heard a door crash open. The walls separating the living room from his bedroom muffled the sound yet fear welled up within him. He already knew who was at his front door.
His sire wasn't happy.
Hazy from a hangover, Lawson jumped out of bed, one sock on and in his boxers. He cursed as he wondered what Wolfram & Hart was charging him for because their security was the pits. Franz's big plan seemed to be falling to pieces. Or was it? Lawson asked himself as he ran out of his room and out into the hall. Maybe this was exactly what that rat bastard had wanted.
Angel, Spike, and some short guy were fighting through his newly made minions in the living room. No sign of his human guards from Wolfram & Hart remained. The opulent furniture was tipped over in disarray. Dust sprinkled the floor and only four of his minions were still standing. Still green as the grass outside, they were falling fast under the assault.
Angel staked a minion as he caught sight of Lawson. Rage wafted off the master vampire and there was hell in his gaze when he turned to face Lawson. There was something more personal in his hate than the last time when Angel, fueled by duty and resignation, tried to kill him in the mansion.
Three minions now. Lawson winced as two and two were starting to come together. Had Franz made a play for the girl and summoned the guards? Lawson cursed. His luck was running out and the wolves had broken down the gates. He could feel Angel's anger as he could feel his own fear.
Spike grinned at his approach."Now, there is the git that we've been looking for." Spike punched the minion he was fighting before glancing towards Lawson, his long jacket flowing around him and the promise of revenge in his expression. "Where is she?"
Lawson could feel the moon rising as his knees trembled. He stepped back fast, trying to figure a way out of this jam, his eyes darted around the still unfamiliar house before looking over his shoulder. "The little missus is around here somewhere."
The short guy found himself with his arms pinned behind his back while another minion punched him in the face in rapid bursts. Revealing his demonic face, gray-green and spikey, Angel's friend struggled to be free.
"Where's Franz?" Angel staked the one he was toying without pause.
"Not here, Chief. Has his own set up." Lawson smirked as he looked back down the hall towards the wide window, cloaked in curtains, at the end. All Angel's muscle was in front of him and no one at the rear. Maybe his day hadn't dawned yet.
"Some help would be nice!" Angel's buddy yelped.
Spike dusted the minion, before running to Lawson, fangs out and grinning with malicious glee.
Angel turned back to his friend, growling, and staked the one punching him before grabbing the other by the neck and dusting him.
Lawson took the distraction and ran down the opposite end of the hall. This house had been built for Angelus and now it was crumbling around him. He had one chance to escape and figure out who set him up. There wasn't a long list.
"Wanker!" Spike chased after him before his footsteps stopped in front of Drusilla's door.
Lawson covered his face and jumped through, thankful that the handymen hadn't started to put up those bars he had requested, window breaking around him. He arrived in the balmy night air in a rain of glass and fell into a roll. He was up and running down the street to the sedan he had hidden as an escape route. The moon had only just risen but he knew it was going to be a long night.
OOO
Doyle's eyes leaked tears as they puffed up and began to darken even faster than his pensive expression. He rubbed at his bruises. Dazed, hoarse and muffled from the swelling of his nose, he mumbled, "Thanks."
Angel didn't respond, looking away before he cursed as he felt Lawson get farther away. He ran into the hallway to the open window and looked out to see the street empty. Slamming his palms against the windowpane, he snarled before walking into the open bedroom where Spike and a chained Drusilla kissed against the wall. "He's gone."
Spike pulled away with a sneer. "Not for long. Baby wants to get her licks in."
Drusilla wiggled her fingers at him and grinned. Her red dress seemed to bring out the craziness in her eyes. Anticipation grew in her tone. "The march hares gather."
Angel nodded then met Doyle back in the living room. He tried to ignore the décor. It had been chosen by Angelus and Lawson hadn't changed it. It only pointed out his errors. Failure clung to him. All he had done was scatter his enemies. Lawson would go underground and Franz had probably set himself up with more guards in an even higher tower. His plan had sunk like a stone. He hadn't found answers, only more questions. Lawson had teamed up with Wolfram and Hart but where were their guards? All those minions felt young and of a weak Aurelian line.
The Irishman sat on the couch, wiping the blood off his face, before he stood, swaying, at Angel's entrance. Questions and concerns lingered in his eyes. "Crackerjack plan, boss."
"How are you?" Angel made himself say when all he wanted to do was scream from frustration. He had most of the pieces but what picture did they make? It felt like he had forgotten something along the way. Was Lawson the key to the case or a dead end?
"Angel, I'm not a fan of the martial arts, honest." Doyle grimaced as he slapped his hand on his forehead with a grunt. Hunched over, he gasped and staggered before righting himself with a curse. "Willow! She's in danger. I saw her parents tied up and her neck's bleeding as he carried her out. I think its happening soon. We gotta go now."
They raced to the car. Angel already knew who would attack her before Doyle even described him. Lawson wasn't a dead end, he was a red herring.
Hopping into the black convertible, Angel had the car on and rolling before Doyle had a chance to close the door. "Its Franz, isn't it?" Angel slammed his palm against the steering wheel as he turned out of the driveway and into the night. "Bastard planned it somehow. I knew it was too easy to get into his penthouse last night." Angel sped through a red light. "And we're practically across town."
Doyle made the sign of the cross as he looked at the speedometer.
OOO
Sheila picked up a fork and spoon to set by a plate when she heard a knock at the door. The scent of the seasoned vegetables were making her mouth water. In the background, the evening news played low on the television. This would be their first family meal in the house after they had finally unpacked and gotten settled in. There were still knickknacks to be found and socks lost along the way but the move had been as stress-free as those things could be. They hadn't said anything but both Ira and her were trying to make a new stab at family dinners. This was one more step to their fresh start. The apartment was snugger than the house in Sunnydale, but Sheila felt sure that instead of filling their home with material possessions, they would fill it with love this time.
The knock on the door was louder this time.
Ira looked at her from his place at the wok, where he was scoping veggies into a bowl, before wiping his hands. He shrugged, raising his arms, sleeves rolled up, before answering the door. "Hello?" He was partially covered by the kitchen wall.
"Hello, I have urgent news about your daughter, Willow. May we come in?" A polite voice, crisp with the tones of learned British English, asked from out of view.
"Sure, what's this about?" Ira asked as he stepped back.
A shiver went up her spine. Sheila dropped her silverware and turned to say no, but it was too late. She had read that time slowed down in dangerous situations but the seconds only moved quicker as she heard Ira grunt. Then hell broke loose in their home.
Ira flew back with a thump on the floor. His body crumpled as his glasses fell to the floor. He slumped over, hand on his head, as he tried to get up. His face red under his mustache.
"Secure them." A blond man, handsome and in a designer suit, ordered as he walked into the apartment. Posture perfect and hair immaculate, his cold eyes looked around at the place before he settled on Sheila. Contempt radiated from him. "And, you're the parents, I presume?"
Two men, faces deformed like the ones she had seen attack her support group, followed behind him and grabbed her husband. Suited, they wore ear pieces and stayed silent.
Sheila opened her mouth to cry out to warn Willow but the man in charge had her pressed against the wall with a hand over her mouth and one around her neck. Looking into his gray eyes, she saw no mercy and thought of Yvette's story. Was this a man or a monster? She knew that Willow was listening to music with her headphones on ever since Ira told her to keep it down and probably hadn't heard a thing yet. Heart sinking and fear rising, her eyes darted towards the hallway despite her efforts.
He nodded as his face turned into a horrific mask before he smiled icy and confident. His tone rang out with triumph. "I already know she is home."
Sheila's stomach dropped as she realized that he wasn't human. She started to open her mouth to cry out. The world seemed to be going faster than her heartbeat.
His face shifted back to human before winking at her. "None of that."
The cry died in her throat.
The blond monster in the suit pushed her towards one of his men, who came for her, grabbed her by the shoulders and forced her to the dinner table. His hand was like an icy vise as he kept her in his grip while he pulled rope from his pocket. She watched Ira, head lolling, be forced into a chair on the other end of the table. His captors had him tied up quickly. Her rapid heart beat sounded in her ears and she wondered if this would be the last thing she ever saw.
She struggled and tried to scream but a hand clamped down hard on her mouth before another gagged her. Sheila struggled against the ropes even as she choked on the cloth in her mouth. She watched the blond stride towards the hallway and disappear with all Sheila's hopes.
Ira, gagged, face red, woke from his stupor and threw himself against the table. Screaming under the gag, sweat dripped down his face as he raged. His eyes were round and scared.
Sheila rocked in the chair when she saw the man in the suit walk out with her daughter in his arms. Tears rolled down her face as helplessness consumed her. This was her baby, the one she swore to protect above all others, and she couldn't break free to rip Willow away from him. The ropes bit into her arms as she struggled. They had told she would be safe in Los Angeles. They told her it was over. Now, Sheila feared that it had only begun for Willow.
"As you await rescue, I suggest praying that you never see what your daughter is reborn into." When he walked back in with her daughter in his arms, a smirk turned up the corners of his mouth while his hands clutched her tight. "She shall be beyond mortality and morality."
Willow looked unconscious. Blood dripped down her neck from puncture wounds so similar to the scars that ringed her neck. Limp in the monster's arms, her demin-clad legs dangled like doll's.
Sheila cried out, muffled by the gag, as Ira struggled to turn his head towards him. Ira knocked his chair over in his impotent fury as he tried to yell. His glasses fell to the floor.
"Leave them." The monster in the suit nodded before walking out with Willow as the other monsters trooped out of the kitchen and closed the front door before they left.
Sheila fought against her bindings but couldn't make them budge. She could hear Ira's muffled cries and screams on the floor. All she could think about was Willow's pale face. In moments, the monsters came into their home and in moments, they left, destroying their lives once again. Sheila let the tears fall as she finally sagged against her bonds. Her daughter was gone.
