Hidden

by Lornesgoldenhair

After the events of NFA Lorne has tried to escape from his past, but destiny has other things in mind for him.

10. Chapter 10 : The Thing Beneath

Movement caught her eye and she was suddenly afraid to raise her face to him, he was not what she was seeking, she sought another and yet they had sent her here…

'Oh Fred, please, why can't you stay….?'

-- --

The light tones of Novica's voice drifted through the night towards them like music. With a final exchange he made for the club with an easy flowing gait pausing only to turn to the van and wave bye-bye.

The engine started and Lorne watched through the window as he was driven from his life.

Cordelia paced the ethereal floor and pushed her hands through her hair impatiently. In the glass the blurred figure of Lorne sat hunched and motionless in a bare dark room. She paused to glance at him and then flicked her eyes away returning to her harassed pacing.

Willow looked up at her resignedly.

'Give him a chance Cordy.'

'He's had a chance! He's had ages! Why hasn't he done the thing!'

'He doesn't know he can yet. It'll come to him when the time is right.'

'Well you know what?' Cordy widened her eyes, 'this would be a great time. Ya… around now would be peachy.'

'Just let him adjust to his mojo Cordy, you had to adjust to yours.'

'At least I noticed mine!'

'Well you had the migraines to give you a head's up. Lorne's not gonna notice this until someone who's walking their final path to the Other World can…' Willow stopped suddenly and passed a hand over the glass, changing the view. 'Oh,' she said softly.

Cordy was at her side squinting into the mirror. Lorne's club glowed dimly before them, clientele cluttering tables and clustering round the bar. The two women were both drawn to the figure moving behind it, smiling pleasantly, touching the barman lightly on the shoulder. A shimmer of magic passed through him, altering perception, a spell of lies and the barman looked up at his boss and smiled. Novica didn't linger long, he flashed a brilliant smile in return and disappeared in the back.

The tension in Willow's face was noticeable only by the slight clench of her jaw. Beside her Cordelia bit her lip softly. They watched as the Old One made his way through the rooms of Lorne's apartment to where Aviline lay sleeping.

'It's OK,' Cordy said suddenly, 'He can't do anything, Fred's there.' She turned to look at the witch beside her. Willow kept her eyes on the glass.



'No she's not,' she said softly. 'She's somewhere very different.' Cordelia stared at her incomprehensively for a second before looking back to the glass. Novica's lean figure was gliding contentedly around Lorne's bedroom, his fingertips taking in the feel of each surface and each contour. His eyes caught his reflection in the mirror and he chuckled lightly. Finally he made the circuit and left again, taking the hallway to Fred's room, and to Aviline.

'This isn't what's supposed to happen,' Willow said and the image in the glass shifted to another scene. When she spoke again it was with an unnerving flicker of panic and pleading; a whispered instruction to the demon who would not hear her. 'Come on Lorne.'

-- --

Fred snapped her eyes back from him and stared at the coverlets. The illusion of her old room seemed more reliably solid than his face. She felt the thickness of the cloth under her fingertips and concentrated hard on the backs of her hands.

'I can't stay, this isn't real,' she said, half to herself, her voice an eerie and emotionless echo of Illyria's.

'But it could be,' his light voice, always prone to delicacy, drifted over her. 'It's been destined, we've been given a reprieve by the Powers That Be. We have to take it. It's a good thing, Fred. You always trusted me, yes? Trust me now.' She could feel the smile in his tone. She could picture the curve of his lips and blue of his eyes. Don't look at him, it's a trick. They're trying to stop you from finding her.

'Fred?' he coaxed. She used to melt when she head him speak her name so softly. That time had been so brief cut short by Illyria's birth. And then… A whisper of memory tickled at her mind. Of kneeling over him, of watching him die. Not Fred's memory but hers. Illyria's. Would you like me to lie to you now? The cool voice that had become Fred's that had always been Fred's. The jostling thoughts and memories caught her off guard now and she struggled.

Movement and he was crouched before her, a scene reminiscent of her own demise and still she couldn't look at him. A hardness had formed around her heart, a shadow of Illyria's being, and she fought to keep it there. She had been seeking the Old One and now his presence made her feel unsure. She tried to cling with her mind to her decision. Go back to the shadow paths and find Illyria. Only she could make everything complete again.

'Fred?' he said again. 'Why can't you stay with me?'

What was he asking? That she stayed here in this dream world? In this frozen day before her death? What was he? Surely he was just a ghost, an illusion at best. A cruel spell at worst conjured to taunt and hurt her. None of this was real; none of this was real except Illyria and the traces of her being that sat in hard clusters within. She had to get to Illyria, the paths couldn't keep denying her access if she tried hard enough… in a swift movement Fred drew herself away from her old bed and stumbled towards the door. God only knew what was lying on the other side. Both hands grasped the handle and she tried to make it turn. Half her mind was on continuing her journey and half on avoiding his face. She feared him. But she feared what she felt inside more.

The door wouldn't give, something held it fast and a curious sensation pulsed at the base of her brain. Whatever held her here was not malicious. It wasn't evil. It was a force of good 

pushing her gently in the right direction. Doubt filled her; doubt and sudden knowledge. Illyria was not waiting. She was gone.

She tugged once more at the handle and then covered her face with her hands. Pale human hands with no lingering trace of blue. She felt her breath trapped behind her fingers, hot on her face and she squeezed her eyes shut. There had been so much pain that she had forgotten these feelings in her battle just to survive.

There is perhaps yet something which can be done… to heal you. The words from the shadow paths washed over her again. Yours is a human need. If we are correct, if it is for you, it will be at the end of this path. Follow.

Follow.

He was behind her now and she felt his hands rest lightly on her shoulders. Warmth slipped through her thin blouse.

Yours is a human need….

'Fred?' he was barely audible, barely touching her, just his presence, solid, reassuring, his scent light cologne, and the familiar tones of his accent.

There is perhaps yet something which can be done…

'No…' she murmured, 'No, no, no….' the first tears forming and trickling behind her hands. 'This can't be, this can't be…. They're playing with me; they just want me to hurt more… I can't hurt more… I can't, I can't… I'm empty, there's nothing left… a shell…it won't make it right; nothing can make it right… I want it to but it can't…'

'Fred…'

There is something which can be done…

'You're not real, you're not real…' her voice was high and broken.

… to heal you.

'Fred…' he turned her in his arms and gently took the hands from her face, lifting her chin so that she faced him. Her eyes darted away and she tried to squeeze them shut again. But he touched her cheeks and soothed her forehead, his fingers tender. 'Fred…it's OK, please look at me, please look at me.'

'No…'

At her wits end she turned her head from side to side in his palms but there was no escape. No escape from him or from the deep desire in her to believe. Finally she gave way and her eyes flickered upwards just long enough to catch his. He held her there in his gaze and refused to let her go.

And then she knew. It was real. It was real, and his name fell from her lips in a sob, loss, pain 

and joy mingling into one.

'Wesley, oh, Wesley!'

-- --

The heavy door slid open and a shaft of high powered light fell over the contents of the room, Lorne included. Wearily he raised his head and regarded the silhouette he knew was Lindsay's. He'd probably been alone in that room for less than an hour, but its oppressive darkness and silence made that hour stretch for days. He was dreading this moment and yet it offered respite from his own thoughts for a little while. The same images kept playing in his mind, Novica sauntering into the club, Lorne trapped behind the mirror, the visions from Lindsay's song which depicted the future. With every second that ticked by Lorne knew that future grew closer. Even now he guessed Sasha would be headed for Caritas to check he was OK after they dispatched the shapeshifter. And she'd come home and find Novica in her lover's place…

Lindsay's gaze was heavy on him now and he saw the figure step back and motion him to pass through the door. Lorne stood up, more automaton than himself, and followed Lindsay uncomplainingly, his heart heavy with a dread that came from outside Wolfram and Hart's resplendent premises.

She'd come home and find Novica in his place. But she'd realise. Right?

-- --

'Lorne?'

Novica looked up sharply. His mind had been lost in contemplating the sleeping baby before him. Time took some getting used to. Between being a demon god and spending a spell in a hell dimension or two his concept of minutes and hours was still a little shaky. Minutes could be years, years could feel like seconds to one who was eons old. He had to remind himself that for the meantime he was human and subject to their laws. He couldn't waste days staring into space. How long had he been standing looking at this little creature? The baby moved in her sleep and a shudder of revulsion passed through him.

'Lorne? You up here?' Sasha's voice on the stairs from the club below. She sounded concerned. A faint smile curved his lips. It was beginning then, this sham. The worried slayer rushes home to check on her demon boyfriend only to be confronted with her demon's boyfriend's arch nemesis! Couldn't let it get that far.

Novica roused himself, digging into the pocket of the Lorne style polyester suit he wore and calmly extracted a pouch of powers. The clientele downstairs had been seen to by the lawyers, and impressive mojo it was too, but he felt that Sasha would need a little more magic than that the walls of the club could supply. He slowly moved to the door and waited for her.

'In here,' he called, his voice musical, 'peach pie!' he added after a second's hesitation. He 

winced, but best to make it authentic.

'Lorne?' closer now. She rounded the corner and her eyes fell on his human face. A myriad of emotion flitted across her features. She was startled, a slight frown crossing her face and lingering lightly on her brow. She was relieved. She was immediately worried again. Something wasn't right. Novica moved quickly.

'Hey sweetpea,' he said, his arm moving to wrap itself around her shoulders. Sasha opened her mouth to question his appearance and he let the power fall across her in an arc, the shimmer landing briefly on her body before vanishing. She blinked and gazed at him, her lips slightly parted and then her frown disappeared. She laid one hand on his arm and said 'I'm so glad you're OK, you just kinda disappeared,' she looked hard at him and blinked again as though trying to clear her mind. Novica waited just a beat as the enchantment took, hoping her query would be dismissed by magic, but her question remained.

'How come you're all non-Lorne?' she asked. Novica laughed a carefree chuckle as he guided her into the room. A smile played around his lips, one of irony and secret knowledge. He could feel the magic penetrating her now, the tension easing from her muscles and her attention moving on. She became distracted and unperturbed she moved to the bed where Aviline lay sleeping. 'Is she OK?' she asked, 'Do you think she's been fed? And where's Fred, she said she'd be babysitting. I can't believe she'd just take off like that.'

'Well which should I answer first?' he smiled, his own body relaxing now as her urgency and concern dissipated. Sasha laughed apologetically, her back to him as she lifted the baby, unaware of him moving behind her, his pace slow and thoughtful and his large brown eyes taking in each detail of his new family. Was this really working? He couldn't quite believe his luck. He eased around her figure and sat lightly on the bed, looking up at her with a curious expression.

'It doesn't bother you, me looking this way?' he tested.

'It's a bit odd, you were so dead set against it earlier…'

'Oh yeah… with the shapeshifter. Well hey listen I did some thinking after I took off. Figured there's a heck of a lot of evil to contend with in LA these days without me coming over all diva about this glamour. It's a tool, OK, it's a powerful tool that I can use for good and I'm just getting all het up because it looks like him,' he decided to go straight to the heart of the matter, 'All that Novica stuff… that's in the past right?'

Sasha was fiddling with Aviline's clothing and replied distractedly, her voice clouded with magics, 'Yeah but I understand why it might still be hard for you, and I shouldn't have pushed you to wear the glamour tonight, its just there was no other way to get you into that house to track that thing. But I'm proud of you, you did the right thing,' she looked up and smiled at him, her eyes warm. Novica cocked his head and returned the expression, a sense of wonder and bubbling ill suppressed excitement in his chest. It was all falling into place. Better just make sure…

'Well you deserve an explanation,' he mused, 'just to set things straight from the beginning so to speak, so remember this,' he said meaningfully and saw something flash in her eyes as the spell he had cast triggered her memories. For the next few minutes she would absorb his 

every word without question and swear it as gospel. 'Thing is I've gotta face up to facts. This post apocalyptic LA doesn't like the green hue, there's a new curfew outside, you saw all the cops right?'

'Yes, they were in the alley,' again her voice was distant.

'Yes they were,' Novica agreed. 'And I have this powerful glamour I'm not using… and I can't risk…' he stopped suddenly struck by inspiration. He stood and took both of them in his arms, relishing the role he got to play. 'I can't risk anything happening to me when I have you and baby to care for,' his voice dripped with saccharin in what he thought was a perfectly wonderful impression of Lorne's sentiment. 'I can't risk leaving you alone. Slayer or not, you're my girl.' He smiled and she returned it, the glaze of the spell still in her eyes. 'So I figure I'd be better wearing the glamour for now… what do you think?'

'Ok, if you think it's safer, she accepted meekly.

'Good.' Job done. So easy. So very, very easy. A trill of excitement coursed through his veins. He'd been wary of Lindsay and of Wolfram and Hart but if this was how straightforward life could be with a law firm in tow then he heartily approved. Their support was useful. In this neat little set up he could become strong again. Novica looked down at Aviline nestled between his human chest and hers, and at Sasha, vulnerable and unaware beside him. His ancient mind began remembering prophecies and riddles. Toby Wyatt might have been the object of his prophecy but there was still power in this baby's soul. As yet he was unable to drink from these beings but he'd find a way. Vulnerable, both of them, toys to be played with and to keep him amused while he bided his time. Soft, vulnerable toys.

She was looking at him, he could feel it, drinking in his features. 'You know what?' Sasha was saying dreamily, her dim eyes lingering in his before dropping away shyly. 'You suit the glamour, I know I shouldn't say it but…'

'You always kind of liked this human look?' he replied, the magic power of suggestion still with him. He ran his hands moving through her hair, down her back, twisting and curling strands delicately, but what she said surprised him. What she said seemed to come from somewhere deep and honest.

'Yes, I always did, right from the start, and then I got to know you better and loved you for you, but sometimes… sometimes I miss this version. It's silly, but we had some good times, you know, driving through to LA all those months ago, stopping at the roadside, being a couple like that out in the open… to the world at large. I know that always hurt you,' she said sadly, 'I never meant it to.'

'Well if this spell isn't a little truth serum,' he muttered and she took him to mean his glamour. 'You're just full of surprises… no, no, don't feel bad, it's important to be honest isn't it.' Novica allowed his eyes to roam over her downcast head. 'Its only natural,' he reassured, 'It must be hard loving something so very…. Green,' and he bit his lip against a giggle so as not to spoil the moment.

'I'm just sorry I was so precious about it…' he pouted as though thoughtful and sincere, deep with need to make things right. 'Maybe I could… if you wanted… make it up to you.' His face smiled gently while inside his mind played games. Sasha looked up again at him will ill 

disguised desire and Novica struggled not to laugh out loud. Oh this was so simple, taking candy from a baby didn't come into it. A bit of magic, a bit of power, and a bit of latent unfulfilled need in the demon's girl, and Novica had every tool he needed to destroy Lorne's precarious world. She'd handed him the weapon and she'd have to live with that guilt when it all fell apart. Novica reached out and tenderly caressed Sasha's face. If he had to fake this role he might as well enjoy it; he might as well hit Lorne where it really hurt.

-- --

The room around them vanished and the barren shadow paths returned, but they remained together. After a beat the winds around them settled to a breeze and Wesley drew back slightly in Fred's arms, gazing about him. The paths were grey and colourless, devoid of feature or landmark. He reached into a jacket pocket and extracted his long discarded glasses, rubbing them briefly on a sleeve and popping them in place on his nose.

'Um… Fred?' he said coyly, 'You don't happen to know how to get out of here do you?'





-- --

Everything was just as he remembered it: the same gleaming corridors and glass, the same elevators and stairs, the same bustle of activity. It struck him as odd how similar the atmosphere was to how it had been under Angel's command. Surely it should feel more evil, more intrinsically bad now that Lindsay was at the helm. His mind quickly stopped questioning, the only effect it had was to make him more certain that Evil Inc had been a mistake on the part of Team Angel. The biggest ever.

Lindsay strolled beside him relaxed and at home in his surroundings. He nodded at colleagues and smiled the pleasant smile of the lawyer, opening doors and ushering Lorne through with consideration. Another colleague on his way to Lindsay's office for a meeting; a former employee welcomed back onto the premises. Except that former employees of Wolfram and Hart didn't usually come back. Not in one piece anyway. It all seemed so civil, and when at last they reached the door which had once led to Angel's office Lindsay paused and whispered a few words to his pretty secretary as many a boss might before disappearing into his room, Lorne in tow.

'Sit down,' he offered. Lorne looked about the room, the décor was very slightly altered but the layout was about the same. He hesitated and in the pause Lindsay flicked a switch and changed the glass panels which looked out onto the lobby from clear to opaque. The movement jolted Lorne, his memory suddenly filled with the last meeting Angel had called in here, the illusions he had cast on those same windows to fool the employees outside. He felt his heart rate suddenly pick up and he knew Lindsay sensed it. 'Please, sit,' Lindsay repeated, and he gestured not at the chair in front of the desk but the one behind. His own. Lorne's brow knit fractionally and he looked with suspicion at the seat. 'That's right, at the desk, don't worry, there's a good reason for it. It won't bite,' Lindsay went on with mild irritation, 'Just sit down will you?'

There was enough warning in his voice to motivate Lorne who edged around the desk and sat in Angel's old place. Lindsay smiled and began to mix himself a drink, the atmosphere growing tense as he kept up the façade of pleasantry.

It surprised Lorne how easily he could look at him; this man he had killed less than a year before. Yet there he was just feet away, healthy, alive. A hard shot of emotion sat sternly in Lorne's chest but he could not quite discern what it was. It wasn't guilt; he didn't feel remorse, looking at Lindsay now seemed to dispel those feelings, and the nightmares which had haunted him since that day. So if it wasn't guilt what was it? Bitterness? Some deep resentment that it hadn't worked and that Lindsay was back, undamaged, probably stronger than before running this joint? Lorne looked down at the desk and tried to get his thoughts under control. He regretted that Lindsay hadn't stayed dead when he had shot him, what did that say about him, what kind of a person did that make Lorne?

A clink and single iced malt was deposited in his eye line, moisture from the glass speckling the desk. His eyes fixed on it while his other senses told him that Lindsay had moved to one side, hovering above him, sipping at his drink, his aura unreadable and closed.

No it wasn't as simple as wishing Lindsay had stayed dead. Lorne felt himself reach out for the glass and wrap his fingers around its chill surface. It wasn't about Lindsay at all. It was about Lorne. It was about the moment he had pulled the trigger and done the job.

He took a sip and felt the heat of the alcohol burn his throat and at the same time the jumble of feelings began to merge into place. How ironic that in order to face his demons and work things out he had to be here, in this building, with this company standing close by. His lips twitched in recognition of the black humour.

Lindsay should still be dead. Not just because he was evil and would cause all amounts of trouble now that he was back. But because it made things fairer. For Lorne. He closed his eyes briefly and remembered the scene, the crack of the shots and Lindsay's look of disbelief, and somewhere unheard and unseen within, a different sound that had caused him to drop the gun and leave.

Killing Lindsay had destroyed Lorne's spirit, and now that Lindsay was back, it was all for nothing.

Slowly Lorne opened his eyes again and looked up at his victim who was watching his torment with ill-disguised pleasure.

'Shall we get started?' Lindsay said, 'Lots to do.'

And then Lorne saw it. He looked past Lindsay MacDonald and towards the end of the room where Angel had kept a huge plasma TV and sound system. Whether it was surveillance, Smile Time or ice hockey the thing had dominated that end of the office, but now it was gone, replaced by a much more sinister object. Heavy, familiar, powerful, it had threatened to end the world. Lorne instinctively backed away, pressing himself into the chair and gripping hard at the arm of it. A chuckle to his left told him Lindsay had seen his reaction.

'Its not the same one, that one is still in the white room, we'd never fit it in here and as a mystical object it needs to be kept safe. No this is a smaller version with a different purpose. We won't be doing any inter-dimensional soul sucking with this baby!' Lindsay strode towards it, glass in hand, spinning by the side of it on one heel as though he were a salesman pitching a car or a game show host showing off a prize.

His showman's grin suddenly fell away as he looked back at Lorne.

'You shot me,' he said flatly, 'You think I'm going to let you sit there and drink my whiskey and just let it pass? I should kill you Lorne, but it wouldn't be as much fun as this…' behind him a shimmer of magic sent a slight breeze across the room. Lorne tried to push himself from his chair but as he struggled two sets of bindings shot from the arms and held him there, wrapping themselves tightly over his wrists and clamping him in place. He gasped and looked down desperately.

'There are many ways to destroy a being,' Lindsay was saying, 'You learn that working here. You started with the basics, the gun, and well… that kinda failed didn't it?' he gestured to his living self, 'but I've worked up a few more levels than you over the years. I think you'll find my methods are much more advanced… and effective.'

Lorne raised his head and glared at Lindsay, fear and rage burning in is eyes, but Lindsay dismissed it easily; folding his arms and turning towards the mirror at the back of the office. Novica's mirror.

'Watch carefully,' he said, and the image of Lorne's apartment flickered into view. 'Because this is your life.'

-- --

With Aviline settled Sasha was only too grateful to make her way to their room, padding softly across the carpet bare footed and easing the jacket from her shoulders. She didn't feel right, but then it had been a heck of a day. The shapeshifter had drained her physically and emotionally, leading the team a merry and destructive dance across town. The Team. Spike was still out there. Was he back on the team now, was he really forgiven? And the girl who had flown to their aid, Lucy, was she a new member too? Another slayer. Would she stay or be summoned to Italy by the new Council? There was so much to consider. She should be considering it all now. Oh but her head was spinning, and she was tired.

Sasha hesitated by the bed and rubbed her hand over her forehead. She should really get back out there and find them, check the girl was OK. She couldn't be more than sixteen or seventeen surely. So much to cope with, such a bizarre introduction to slaying. It used to be so easy. There's a vampire, go kill it. Now there were so many other weird beasts to contend with and half the vampire population seemed to be on the home team. And then there was the apocalypse and the fall out from that…

'Shhh…' his voice was smooth and she felt his hands pass over her shoulders, down her sides, drawing her backward into his arms. 'Someone's got a busy little head on them tonight,' he cooed.

'I should go find Lucy and Spike, debrief…' her words came with difficulty, her mind clouded.

'No, sweetheart, they'll be fine, trust me,' Novica spun her gently in his embrace and she found her head level with his broad chest. He pulled her head to him and rested it there.



'I can hear your heart,' she muttered and a light giggle escaped her, 'I never realised the glamour did that too, it's like you're really human…'

Novica let one hand slip up and down her spine in a slow caress. 'We could have a lot of fun with that,' he smiled. He felt her fingers slide up his chest then, slipping between the buttons of his shirt and touching the skin there. Further down the soft movement of her body against his pressed insistently against him.

'We're OK aren't we?' she asked him, 'You're not mad with me about the glamour?'

'I said didn't I?' he replied, his eyes fixed on the mirror behind, 'I said it didn't matter, it's OK,' and he grinned into the glass at his own reflection, 'Everything's OK.' He held his own gaze for a moment and then as though suddenly inspired he fell to work.

Novica drew Sasha back from him and with a swift smooth movement his lips came to meet hers. She was warm and drowsy with exertion and magics and she yielded quickly to him. He felt firm and strong and she wanted more than anything at that moment to be part of him, to give way and be just a woman and not a slayer. She was safe with him, always safe with him, 'Lorne.' Her voice was light and expressed nothing but her love and pride in him, but he covered her mouth quickly again with his and cut off her words, slipping his hands under her clothes, unhooking and unfastening, relishing the sense of her skin hot and bare under his touch. To be wanted in this way was a uniquely human sense and he experimented with the feelings in his new body.

Her own hands were working on him, pulling the shirt from his chest and running her fingers through the light hair on soft human skin. She pulled back from his kiss and let her lips trail over his body, her tongue drinking in the taste of his flesh, so different from the demon. Her mouth found the altered texture of his nipple, sensitive delicate skin, the hairs tickling at her nose, the warmth of his body on her cheek. She explored with new fervour, this other lover equally hers. She drew a gasp from him and with a strong movement he laid her down on the bed, balancing his weight above her, his broad shoulders and lean back reflected in the mirror behind them. She caught a glimpse and traced the lines of his human body with her eyes, the smooth curve of muscles descending towards his buttocks. He was beautiful, her living fantasy from those weeks spent travelling together towards the apocalypse. She had dreamt of him like this despite herself, despite her love for the person he was regardless of his demon heritage. She had dreamt of a time where she would see him above her, handsome, human.

She felt him kissing at her neck, his altered profile buried in her skin, his teeth nipping gently at her and his breath ragged. He was intense and driven, the languorous love making they normally shared somehow different and more primal now. She responded with a surge of need and searing desire, her nails gripping hard at his back and her hips pushing urgently into his. He moved her on the bed, pulling her down, shifting her body to fit his better and as she felt him at her centre she pulled her eyes from the mirror to find his. He entered her hard and as she gasped she caught his vision, his soft brown eyes framed with the darkest of lashes, and the emptiness within.

-- --

'He knows I can see doesn't he?' Lorne said quietly, the images in the mirror becoming blurred and refocusing as he blinked.

Lindsay quaffed back the last of his whiskey and let the glass rest in his lap. He was perched on the edge of the desk switching his view between Novica and Lorne. 'Oh yes,' he said, 'he's playing up for the cameras a little... so is she by the looks of it… wow she's really into him… I mean er… you...' he laughed. 'She's been wanting this for a while I bet, a little human loving, I mean I don't know what you demon types have going for you 'down there' but judging by her reaction she's glad of the change!' he glanced at Lorne to sense his reaction, smiled and then returned his attention to the screen. Sasha raked her nails down Novica's back as he entered her, arching her back to meet him, and Lindsay let out a low sigh, 'Wow… She's quite something isn't she?'

Lorne swallowed hard, the bile creeping to his throat and the sickness stirring weakly in his guts. But he couldn't look away. He watched each movement and heard each gasp. And he knew, he knew that Lindsay was right. She wanted this. She'd always wanted this.

-- --

The emptiness within. The brown eyes were cold and a jolt of unease past through her. There was something wrong. 'Change back,' she whispered. 'Please, just change back.'

He looked at her briefly before ignoring her request and returning his attentions to her neck. His movements were more frequent now, his rhythm picking up as his desire increased. With each thrust he drove deeper into her body, his muscles taut and unrelenting.

Sasha reached round and drew his face back to hers, if she could just sense him; if she could just find him it would be OK. She looked into his eyes, anxiety crossing her features, 'Lorne?' His lips broke into a smile but it did nothing to reassure her, the corners of his mouth pinched in cruelty rather than joy and it didn't reach those eyes. This wasn't how it was. When they made love she would lose herself in him, they were connected physically, psychically. She opened up her mind and searched for him but found herself blocked off, a wall of nothing preventing her from reaching her.

'Lorne, please, what's happening, please stop, I want you, please be you…'

She felt the laughter before she heard it. The shuddering of it beginning in his chest and the short gasps at her neck as he pinned her roughly to the bed by her wrists. He was shaking with the amusement of it all, at her confusion and fear, and the hurt ran so deep in her that she became helpless. She had ten times his strength but she couldn't use it against him now. Instead she bit hard on her lip as the tears formed and braced her body against his climax, willing it to be over, willing this moment gone, willing that it wasn't real.

-- --

Lindsay waved the mirror into submission, as Lorne had seen Novica do long before now, and slid down from the desk to return his glass to its place by the decanter. Lorne said nothing, even as the bindings which held him to the chair slithered from his wrists. He heard the office door open and felt Lindsay hover by it.

'Now you're not going anywhere are you?' the lawyer said by way of double checking. 'You 

know how this place works; you'll never get out, too many sensors and security guys. So you just sit there a while and think about things. Make yourself at home. Watch a little TV…' he giggled to himself.

Still the demon didn't move.

'See Lorne,' Lindsay said, drawing himself up with the self assuredness that was his trademark 'You think I broke your spirit when you pulled that trigger but I didn't. Your spirit didn't break Lorne, what you experienced was a big bout of self pity and then there you were fighting the good fight all over again, spirit intact. Thanks to that little lady am I right?'

Lorne raised his eyes like two dead weights and looked at him. Lindsay smiled with the ghost of pity.

'I'll make a better job of it this time, you have my word.'

-- --

In the darkness of the bedroom she watched him sleeping, her mind reeling with reasons and explanations for his behaviour. He had said little to her when it was over, rolling sideways and away from her. So unlike Lorne. In her heart she compared each action with those she remembered. He would hold her until they slept; he would talk until sunrise and he would let her guide and determined the pace. His only concern was her, her happiness and contentment, her safety. He was tender and compassionate and he would read her as they made love, the colours of her aura and the feelings deep inside. It was never like this. He never forced his own way, never ignored her requests. He was never empty.

She couldn't stop the tears as they trickled silently down her face, wetting the pillow and her hair. Maybe it was her, maybe she somehow deserved this. For pushing him over the glamour, maybe he was making a point. 'You want me human? Well this is the price.' But that wasn't Lorne either. He didn't do retribution; he never wanted to hurt her.

Sasha sat up slowly, careful not to disturb him. Half desperate to wake him and make him talk and half determined not to for fear of what he might say. She felt sore and used. Her wrist hurt where he had restrained hard against the sheets and she rubbed at it absently, her body churning with unsettled fear and misery. She shouldn't be so weak, she should force the issue and get to the bottom of it and she shouldn't let him treat her this way.

She slid from the bed and from the room with only the moonlight to guide her, a blanket cast round her shoulders to keep off the chill. She shouldn't be weak, but when it came to Lorne she was.

-- --

'Come on green,' Spike muttered as he banged a third time on the closed door of caritas. 'Get out of your bed!'

In the alleyway behind him Lucy stood aimlessly in the gloom. Her shoulders were hunched and she seemed remarkably thin and tremulous for a new slayer. But new slayer she was 

according to what Spike had just witnessed and as such he couldn't just pack her on her way. That, and it pained him to admit, he was concerned for her. She was on her own, they way they all were. Slayers. Always so isolated. Even Buffy with her Scooby gang spent most of her time banging on about how alone she was. How misunderstood. He cast a glance back over his shoulder at the girl. She was probably freezing, the little vest top clung to her coldly. This one was proper alone to, mum nowhere in sight and dad finished off by the shapeshifter. Didn't get any prettier, this world.

He resumed his hammering on the door. 'Oi, Lorne!' he raised a fist to beat down again and the door swung open. Sasha stood in the dim light of the interior and frowned at him.

'Cheers love,' he said amiably and ushered the new slayer inside. He made straight for the bar and helped himself, certain Sasha wouldn't stop him where Lorne might. He grabbed himself first a beer and then blood and proceeded to mix the two. Lucy grimaced.

'What?' Spike asked. 'Not often I have the facilities to mix. Now where's the malt, I could do with a chaser.'

'Sit down,' Sasha said wearily, offering the girl a seat. She took the blanket she had slung around her shoulders and draped it over the girl's body to stop the shivering before it started. Until a couple of hours ago the teenager had been lying in a shapeshifter induced coma. Now she was awake, facing the loss of her dad and her rebirth into this new and dangerous world. Shock couldn't be far off.

'What's Spike told you?' Sasha asked.

Lucy looked wide eyed from the slayer to the vampire and shrugged. 'I don't get it,' she confessed. 'Any of it.'

'Dead simple love,' Spike said and began pointing at things, 'Vampire, Slayer, demon bar, karaoke… er…' he paused and Sasha shot him a look.

'OK, ignore everything he said and let me give you the run down. I don't expect you to take it all in but we've gotta start somewhere right.'

'I say we start with beer,' Spike lifted one from the fridge and proffered it to Lucy.

'She's sixteen!' Sasha said.

'I say we start with beer,' Lucy echoed.

Sasha sighed and pulled her chair closer to the little table at which they sat. OK… things a new slayer needed to know. She looked down at the floor, at the debris from the night's clientele which littered it, un-swept. Cigarette buts and filters, shards from the odd shattered glass. Odd. Lorne always swept up before he went to bed. He found it therapeutic. Even on nights like these he'd come back to the club and tidy, rinse glasses and ground himself.

Spike swung a chair so it faced backwards and plopped himself down on it, drink in hand and one for Lucy. He looked between the new slayer and the old with perky interest and then sighed. Sasha roused herself slowly and turned her attention back to the job in hand but the 

vacant look remained in her eyes. Lucy plucked at the blanket silently. He grabbed the beer he'd brought for her and flipped the cap from it placing it in her hand.

'Not saying it's an answer but it might be a place to start,' he said, 'and you,' he looked at Sasha, 'wanna tell me what's going on? Because this girly here needs a guide on this new path of hers and you're not much up to that from what I can see.'

Sasha looked back at the debris on the floor and felt the club grow still around her. Spike took a swing from his drink.

'All the time in the world…' he conceded, 'No big rush, kind of un-dead and immortal here…' he looked at Lucy's alarmed expression, 'You might want to make note of that for future reference.'

-- --

He rolled and found nothing, Sasha had left. Novica opened his eyes to the darkness and the empty bed before stretching across the sheets in a star formation. The pillows still smelt of her perfume. What an interesting evening it had been. He did hope that Lorne had caught the show. He smiled at the ceiling, the taste of her still in his mouth. How she had craved him. Briefly he shut his eyes and remembered the feel of her thighs around his hips, the strength of her holding him to her. He felt the warmth travel from his memories and centre in his groin, smiling to himself as he lay there. But the best part was still to come; the best part was when he looked into her eyes and saw her uncertainty.

A thought occurred to him. She hadn't realised had she? No, the magics were strong. She still believed he was Lorne she just believed Lorne had gone a little cold. And that was good. That was the best outcome he could hope for. This way he could play the game and make her believe that somehow she had pushed him away. Somehow she had forced him to stop loving her. But he didn't much care about her. What he really cared about was in an office on the other side of town. Novica slipped naked from the sheets and went to sit by the dresser. He rifled through the cosmetics he found there and splashed his body with Lorne's cologne; he pulled a few experimental Lorne faces. A shocked pose, a wide smile, a look of endearment. Finally he cupped his chin in one hand and stared into his own brown eyes before waving the image away.

Lorne materialised in the glass. Slumped over Angel's old desk with a glass in his hand. Even from this distance Novica could see the tears. He was about to say hello when a noise disturbed him. Dispelling the image he turned and looked across the dark bedroom. The noise repeated and he smiled to himself. This just got better. Grabbing a silk robe from the back of the door he cruised into the hallway. 'S'Ok cutie pie,' he sang, 'daddy's coming.'

-- --

The tunnel grew more distinct as they walked, pushing them in a single direction. Fred felt Wesley's hand entwined with hers and the feeling of certainty washed over her again. Around them the shadow paths gave way and allowed them to pass.

'When I came here before they threw me out,' Fred said conversationally, 'I kept arriving back in my room and I kept throwing myself back in again.'

'Silly Fred,' he said affectionately, 'but always determined, eh? Hopefully you won't ever have to come back here again. It's not the most welcoming of places and human beings weren't designed to walk these paths. It's easy to get lost on them and end up somewhere bad.'

'How did they know to send me towards you?' she queried, kicking playfully at the mist which swirled around her feet. There was a light ahead of them now indicating the exit and they drifted towards it almost without effort. 'Was it really the Powers That Be?' she asked.

'I don't rightly know,' he conceded, 'I like to think so, I've done them a few good turns in the past.'

The light ahead grew dimmer and objects came into view. A bed, a dresser, a pentagram. Fred's room above Caritas.



'We're almost home,' she said.

-- --

'Great timing Willow!' Cordy was chiding, 'great timing. Lorne gets his life stolen and you send his babysitter into the shadowpaths to pick up her boyfriend!'

'It's Wesley!'

'It could have waited a couple of days! A couple of hours would probably do it!'

'Cordy!' Willow sprang up from where she was watching Lorne. 'Fred was in a mess, she was trying to find Illyria and raise her again. She was putting herself at risk. She was using dark magics! I had to do something!'

'What gave you this kind of power anyway?' Cordelia eyed her with suspicion. 'I've been here an age and they didn't have me raising the dead.'

Willow sighed sharply and folded her arms. 'I'm a wicca, power goes with the job description. The PTB have tapped into what's already there.'

'Yes well we've seen where that leads us haven't we Miss Take Over and Destroy the World given a sniff of power!'

'This is different.'

'I don't see how.'

'Look at them,' Willow shot a beam of magic towards the image of Lorne and it changed to Fred and Wesley. They watched as they stepped down from the portal and into Fred's room, still hand in hand. Cordelia flinched at the sight of her friends, the emotion causing her features to buckle momentarily. Willow softened her voice and moved closer to her friend. 'It's not just for them of course, ' she said, 'There's a higher purpose, I'm not doing this on a whim to make my friends happy, the orders come from above, and we need Wesley, but how can you be angry Cordy, when you see them like that?'

Cordelia drew herself together. 'You brought Buffy back. Look what happened there, you messed with destiny, you changed everything, it even triggered this apocalypse, so don't tell me this is OK.'

Willow's features jerked as though she'd been slapped. There was a silence filled only by the breathing sigh of the Other World's peaceful atmosphere.

'I'm sorry,' Cordelia said finally, 'I know this is different, and I know there are huge things at stake here and we're PTB endorsed. I just don't want to see them hurt anymore. They always get hurt, all of them, and we have all this power and they still get hurt. We can't protect them and it frustrates me OK?'

'I know.'



Cordelia changed the image back to Lorne, he was being moved deep within the Wolfram and Hart building and into darkness again. 'We have to make him see,' she said.

Behind her Willow's face fell into sadness. 'Soon,' she said. She knew what was coming, she'd seen it predestined and it was horrible. But the PTB ordained it and it would be the catalyst that opened the next chapter, it was the start of things coming right again. 'I wish it didn't have to be this way,' she said softly. Cordelia turned to her, eyebrows raised, curiosity in her features.

'What do you know?' she asked sharply. 'What has to happen now?'

The image before them changed of its own accord.

-- --

The children's room. A crib to one side where Aviline lay muttering in her sleep. Novica crossed the threshold without glancing left or right. He looked straight at her, at her demon features and at what she represented. She was half awake only, gurgling in semi-dreams. From below he could hear voices, activity in the bar. It had to be Sasha, and others. He'd go down there in a little while and confuse her further. Be the perfect host. Act warmly, mix drinks, discuss how terribly important it was to fight the good fight, make plans for the future like the good guy he was. He leaned over the crib and touched the baby's hands gently.

'I thought you were awake, little one, so what was making that noise hmmm?'

The stifled sob behind him made him straighten and turn. 'Was it you, little man?' he asked smiling. 'What are the tears for Toby, it's only me, just your uncle Lorne but with a new face.'

The boy drew himself up under the covers and dragged the blankets about him. In the gloom his eyes were wide and bright. Life had been difficult for Toby but he'd liked it here at the club. He liked Sasha, and he liked to be near Aviline. He missed his home and his mom, but his real home was gone because of the bad man called Novica. Now the bad man was back. Standing in his room pretending to be Lorne. But he wasn't Lorne. He could tell. And he wished he couldn't, because the bad man's face told him that he knew.

The kid whimpered and Novica knew Toby was on to him. His features fell into anger and with a stride he was at the bedside, one hand clamped over the kid's mouth and the other pressing hard against his throat.

'Well, if it isn't the one who got away, the special soul, the prophecy boy' he hissed. 'I didn't realise they still kept you here… no home to go to… oh that's right' his voice lightened, 'I destroyed it.'

Toby's tears gathering on the edge of Novica's restraining palm. The wetness tickled and irritated him and he resisted the urge to wipe this weak human fluid from his flesh.

'I think you're a liability young man,' he went on, 'I think you've caused me enough problems. Oh if only I could drink from you now… wouldn't that be just so fitting? Open you up and take that damned soul at last?' he questioned the terrified boy with bright sparkling 

eyes. His manner was almost jolly. 'Do you think because you are special I won't hurt you? Do you think I'll bide my time and drink from you when I regain my powers? Do you? Well maybe that would be the best thing to do, the most sensible from my point of view. But right now… I don't know if it's my weak human side coming out or what…. But right now I just want revenge kiddo.' He pressed harder on the boy's throat and felt him splutter against his palm. 'Right now I just want you dead.'

The child's limbs began to kick out in desperation and Novica moved to secure him against the bed with his weight. He cocked his head and looked down at Toby, the smile never leaving his lips and the boy struggled and choked. Novica kept the pressure on firmly, unrelentingly, savouring each of Toby's last moments, and he watched in silence as the life drained from his eyes.

-- --

Cordelia spun from the image in a rage.

'Willow!' she was unable to contain her disgust and disappointment in her friend. Toby Wyatt's body lay limp and dead as Novica backed away from him, impassivity crossing his face, tainted with disgust only as he wiped the boy's tears from his hands.

'For god's sake he's a child! Are you going to tell me this was for the greater good now? He was five years old! And you just let that happen… you just watched! If I had your power I'd… I'd…' she was lost for words.

Willow said nothing, just stared at the floor with the tears coursing down her face. Cordelia tore at her own hair in frustration, her eyes leaping back to the image conjured before them and anger searing through her heart. And then she froze.

'My God,' she whispered, 'What the…?'

Willow raised her eyes and watched. The lifeless form on the bed did not move, but from it Toby's figure rose and crossed the room. He appeared to pass straight through Novica who did not react, busy as he was cleaning himself up. The child went straight to Aviline who had woken and whose cries were piercing the room. In irritation Novica snapped at her and as though she sensed he was not her father the baby's cries grew louder. Still Novica was unaware of Toby, who reached into the crib and laid a hand on Aviline. The crying abated.

'What's happening?' Cordelia said softly.

'What has to.'

'Willow!' Cordy rounded on her. 'Enough of this mystery stuff... you explain to me right now what the hell is going on,' she fixed her with her huge eyes.

'You were right,' Willow said, 'Lorne needs to get on with things, discover his gift and use it before Novica regains his powers and the whole mess starts over. And this is the way…'

Cordy frowned. 'No, I'm still not getting it.'



'Toby will show him.' Willow took a breath and addressed the image. 'Toby?' she said, 'It's time to go and get Aviline's daddy. Go and get Lorne, and then you can go home.'

-- --

Lindsay MacDonald was perched on Angel's old desk watching the proceedings with a grimace. He'd have to rein this thing in. Novica was used to wielding a lot of power and he was apt to throw caution to the wind. He looked into the mirror and watched as Novica finished wiping his hands on his robe. He casually moved to cover the boy's body, as though he were sleeping wrapped up in his blankets.

The Old One cast a quick flippant glance over to where he knew the lawyer was watching and said 'Deal with that will you?' before sauntering from the room with a cursory glance at Aviline.

Lindsay shut off the images from the mirror and lifted the phone. He paused and then instructed the unseen voice. 'We need a clean up over at Lorne's club, seems he's playing dangerously. Yeah… just this once. Code 679C; corpse removal and spellbinding.' He dropped the receiver back into its crib and stared at the empty mirror. Novica had better watch his step after this.

'You're not indispensable,' he said to the glass.

-- --

'Hey kittens,' Novica appeared behind the bar, 'What did I miss?'

Spike looked up sharply. 'Blimey, you're all pink and fleshy. Where's the green.'

'Thought it was safer to wear a glamour while the curfews are in place,' Sasha said a tad too quickly. Her voice had the tone of one reciting an instruction or a list. 'Place is crawling with cops,' she finished.

'Umm… yeah!' Novica said quickly, 'That's about the jist of it.'

Spike eyed him cautiously. 'Lorne, mate, you had a full on panic attack at the idea of wearing that face and now you're sauntering around the bar with it… there has to be some…' Novica had rapidly approached him and set a drink before him on the table, tapping his shoulder as he passed. The magic passed through Spike in a shimmer.

'Nothing to worry about, Spike,' Novica said and watched as the vampire lifted his blood to his lips. Novica shot a harsh glance at the mirror behind the bar as though to instruct Wolfram and Hart to get their darned magics sorted out. 'So like I said, what did I miss? I'm sorry I took off but I had some thinking to do… you guys coped OK though right? You always do, you're my guys… I have such faith in y'all.' He sat by Sasha and let his hand fold over hers on the table. She flinched and looked up at him but was met only by a warm smile and a pair of big brown eyes.

'You OK honey,' he asked, 'had me worried when I woke up and you weren't there.'



'I…' she faltered. 'I…. I'm fine… I guess it's just been a long day.' He leaned forward and brushed her cheek with his lips, the familiar scent of his cologne comforting. Had she imagined all that went before, was it just a one off? He was rubbing her hands now between his, warm and concerned.

'Hate to break up the party,' Spike said slowly, 'but we have ourselves a new slayer and she needs a little instructing on the way of things… now apparently I'm not the one to be doing that, something about me filling the kid's head with nasties,' he looked at Sasha pointedly, 'but I thought I was just being honest about the gig. Anyway, not to worry… you're here now and you were always good with the comforting reassurances… so why don't you fill her in on Life as a Slayer.'

Novica looked at the girl suspiciously before one of the wide smiles he had practiced upstairs filled his face. 'Well sure! What do you need to know, I'm sure I can give you a unique little old perspective on life.'

'If you don't mind I think you'll find that of the six of us in this room, I'm the qualified Watcher.' The group turned and found Wesley standing by the door to the apartment, Fred at his side. 'Hello Lucy,' he said softly, 'My name is Wesley Wyndham-Pryce and I am your new watcher.'

'Bloody hell,' Spike stuttered, 'Bloody hell!' Wesley's face broke into a grin and he moved to embrace an unusually exuberant Spike. 'What the hell happened to you? Are you real?' Spike punched him on the shoulder. 'Because things are weird enough without you being a wind up merchant. You smell real,' he considered and slapped Wesley on the back again. 'Lorne, Lorne! Get him to sing, we need to check him out,' and he waved Novica forward.

'Oh hey I don't think that's necessary,' Novica managed. What in the gods' names was going on? Who was this Wyndham-Pryce guy and why hadn't Lindsay mentioned anything? 'I'm sure he's who he says he is.'

Wesley was looking at him curiously. 'Lorne?' he queried, 'You're wearing a glamour, yes? You alright? I know it must be a bit of a shock… it's a bit of a shock to me… but its good to be here, its good to be back with you all!' by his side Spike was actually grinning, one arm around Wesley the other around Fred. She grinned back at him, the first time he had seen her happy since… well since before Illyria. Spike motioned Sasha forward to do the introductions, suddenly possessed by the spirit of host as he had never been before. 'Lorne?' Wesley said again. As the others surrounded Wesley Novica felt himself back away under the scrutiny of the Englishman's gaze, busying himself with a suitably Lorne-type activity by preparing some celebratory drinks behind the bar. He glared into the mirror there as he did so, his voice muffled by the laughter of the group behind him.

'Lindsay, you tell me what the hell is going on, right now!'

-- --

Lorne sat on the edge of the hard bed and looked down into his linked hands. The room was as dark as before and he anticipated many hours in its solitude. He couldn't figure out if it was better or worse than seeing Novica in the mirror, in his life. He bit his lip and tried to hold back the latest round of tears. Tears were getting him nowhere. They were solving nothing. He was still here trapped in this building, powerless, while his enemy slept between 

his sheets, unnoticed. Ever since the day Angel had taken the fight to the Circle of the Black Thorn, Lorne had struggled. He wasn't a leader, he wasn't made to shoulder this kind of responsibility day in day out and he just didn't know where to turn now that he was utterly alone. There was nowhere to turn except the four dark walls which surrounded him. As far as his friends and family were concerned he was with them, in Caritas, and who knew if they would ever realise. Novica had well and truly taken his life and tonight Lorne had witnessed him take the woman he loved. He'd witnessed her pain and he'd felt her believe that he, Lorne, had caused it.

He covered his face with his hands and tried again to think.

'Lorne?' Toby's small voice cut through the darkness. Lorne raised his head. The boy stood in front of him, his eyes bright.

He jumped. He couldn't help it. 'What the? Toby how did you get here? Aren't you at home… I don't… Toby…' his voice fell away as Toby pulled down the collar of his pyjamas and revealed the faint bruising visible around his neck. It was fading before Lorne's eyes but he immediately knew the cause and he felt rage flame in his guts.

'He's a bad man,' Toby said, 'And he hurt me. He'll hurt the others too. I'm going home soon, to the Other World, the lady told me, she told me they were waiting for me, but she said I had to come here first and help you.'

'Help me?' Lorne said breathlessly. 'Help me how? I'm stuck here.'

'She said I had to show you,' Toby said simply, 'that she gave you a special gift. She gave you it for helping me before, and the others when the bad man took us. Now you have to use it to help them, and to send him away.'

'I'm going home now,' Toby said as he took a step towards Lorne, 'and you should too.'

'But I…'

The child reached out and touched Lorne, a solid feeling despite his slight and ghostly form which sent electricity through Lorne's body. He shuddered and closed his eyes against the pain and forced himself to take the child's hand. When their fingers met the dark room shivered and vanished. Toby was gone, his last words morphing into Willow's voice.

'You are the Walker of Worlds,' she said. 'You are never alone.'

He opened his eyes, and he wasn't.