The girl ran through the hospital in a panic. Heart pounding. Tears blinding her. That, coupled with a careless haste, caused her to trip. She landed on the floor, hard. The girl let out a choking sob of almost compete agony, then buried it. Through sheer force of will, she replaced the despair that was wracking her soul with an angry determination. Veronica Mars picked herself up off of the floor and walked down the hall toward her destination. The bastards that took her father have no idea what she's capable of. But they would find out.
-
Charles Gunn was healing up nicely, if he did say so himself. The feeling was coming back in his right hand, and his ribs no longer felt like they were optional accessories to his torso. All in all, he felt he was ready to get out. The doctors disagreed of course, but he seriously needed to leave. There's only so much daytime t.v. a man can take before he gets homicidal on everybody. And who could blame him? How many times did a man need to make the same show about a bunch of slutty momma's finding thirty-seven guys she slept with, getting them to take paternity tests, only to find out none of them are the father? Gunn smiled to himself as he watched a slutty momma go nuts when she still didn't find her baby's daddy. 'O.K. Maybe it's a little fun. But damn if it ain't the guiltiest pleasure I've had since Gilbert and Sullivan.' Gunn's thoughts were interrupted by a blonde girl barging into his room.
"Can I help you?" He asked, quirking an eyebrow.
"Damn right you can." was the girls response. "You can tell me what the hell is going on!"
Gunn took in the girl's posture, and took special notice of the look in her eyes. He honestly regretted what he was about to say next. "Girl, I have no idea what you're talking about."
Her eyes narrowed. "My father was just kidnapped by someone that sounded like they were calling through a voice distorter. Which is funny because they used my dad's phone to contact me. The punch-line is his cell phone doesn't have that feature."
Gunn sat up at the mention of a kidnapping. "What make's you think I know what's going on?"
"You're Charles Gunn right?" Gunn nodded, not surprised that this girl knew his name. "You worked for Wolfram and Hart. The evil lawyer stereo type to end all evil lawyer stereo types. If that doesn't put you in the know, then I'm betting being a member Angel Investigations does."
Gunn was impressed. The lady did her homework. "If you want us to look into your father's kidnapping, first I'm going to need some info. Who are you? Why come to me instead of the cops. And finally; Do I know you? Because you look familiar."
She counted down her responses with her fingers. "Veronica Mars. Demons did the kidnapping. I was there when Angel and Spike rescued you."
He took a moment to process all that. Gunn recognized the name of course. 'No wonder she knows who I am, the girl's a regular Sam Spade.' Angel had explained everything. How Veronica helped her dad solve cases, how she managed to clear Abel Koontz's name, how she and her friend got hurt, and most importantly, how they were sold out to Wolfram and Hart. 'So this is a potential champion.' he thought. Looking into her eyes and seeing a familiar resolve, he could believe it. But before Angel Investigations became committed to their first new case, Gunn wanted to be certain he heard correctly. "Demons kidnapped your father?" Veronica nodded. "Are you sure?"
She scowled in annoyance. "They sounded like they were speaking through a mouthful of evil rocks. So yeah, I'm going with demons."
Gunn took a deep breath. "O.K. I've got to make a few calls. Give me twenty minutes to get the team together and we'll figure this out." He looked her directly in the eyes. "You're dad is going to be fine." Gunn smiled reassuringly. "We're professionals."
"Twenty minutes?" Veronica asked of Gunn, ignoring his attempts to reassure her. He nodded. "Good. Then when I get back, you guys can tell me why my dad was kidnapped in order to get to me." And then she was gone.
-
Spike whistled a jaunty tune as he traversed the sewers to avoid the morning sunshine. He had just dumped that scuzzy bastard McAlester out in some ally, and Spike helped himself to the contents of the man's wallet. 'That was an easy three hundred bucks.' he thought contentedly as he came in through the hotel's sewer entrance. Spike's contentment vanished in the lobby when he noticed a couple of familiar scents. 'Oh hell! It's begun.' The vampire braced himself for the worst, and he got it. Walking down the stairs of the Hyperion Hotel, was none other than his hated nemesis and occasional roommate: Xander Harris.
"Oh look," Spike sneered, "it's Droopy the one-eyed wood butcher." Angel was going to suffer for this. How the hell could he just agree to let Xander Harris of all people stay here! Spike knew for a fact that Angel hated the guy too. O.K. Buffy asked him to do it, but still! He wasn't getting any from the Slayer and he was still whipped. The shame of it all! You wouldn't see a bad-ass vamp like Spike kowtowing to the Slayer like that. Unless he was actually getting some that is. Then he would do whatever she wanted.
Having not noticed him, Xander was startled by Spike's disdainful greeting. He looked down at the vampire with a surprisingly unreadable expression. When Xander reached the bottom of the stairs, he approached Spike and got right in his face.
"When Buffy found out you were alive, but didn't think she was worth calling, she felt so hurt she cried for a month." Spike was stunned by the statement and tried to formulate a response, but Xander wasn't finished. "Dawn wanted me to give you this." And then he punched him in the stomach. Shocked more than hurt, Spike fell to his knees. Xander smirked. "You should be thankful Willow let me deliver the message. She wanted to, but I kinda had a bad time of it lately, and she felt I could use some cheering up." His smirk became a full blown smile. "Hey! She was right!"
And Spike arose. A grim figure of vengeance and fury. He totally would have killed Xander on the spot if Illyria hadn't just come flying out of Angel's office and slammed into Spike at what looked like mach 5, knocking him back down. The vampire was out for the count.
Xander just continued to smile cheerfully. "Hey Will." He greeted as the witch followed. "Wanna tell me why you hit Spike with a girl?"
Willow turned to Xander to explain, but was distracted when she saw the look on his face. "Xander! You're smiling! I knew coming back to California was a good idea!" She stated happily. Xander would have responded but was distracted by his first good look at the rising fallen god king of the primordium.
"Woah. Blue pretty." Was his dreamy reaction. Illyria either didn't hear him, or decided to ignore his complement. She addressed only Willow.
"First you insult me by referring to me as the shell, then you dare to attack?" Illyria's face was a study in fury, but Willow seemed unafraid. She had, after all, just knocked Illyria into another room.
"Firstly, my calling you 'Fred' isn't an insult, it's your name. Secondly, you attacked me. I only turned that force back at you."
"Winifred Burkle is dead." Illyria spat savagely, "Her soul destroyed by the fires of my resurrection!" She raised her fist to strike Willow, but Xander jumped in the way.
"Now let's not do anything we'll regret." The young watcher eyed the incredibly powerful fist worriedly. "Like killing me." he added. Back on the floor, Spike let out a groan.
"I would not regret your death." Illyria informed him.
"Well I would." Xander swallowed nervously. "Look. Let's just calm down and I'm sure we could come to some kind of not killing each other agreement." Illyria, mildly impressed with the human's bravery, generously acquiesced. Willow had no desire to do violence in the first place, so she was easy to convince. Spike rolled over onto his back and whimpered.
Xander gestured to the pouf in the middle of the lobby. "Maybe we could sit down and have a nice chat?" Willow stepped over Spike and sat down with a plop. Illyria preferred to stand. "Wonderful." Xander rubbed his hands together eagerly. "Now we're getting somewhere." He looked to the pretty blue one first. "So, Illyria, why do you want to put the big hurting on my pal Will?"
"She keeps referring to me as the shell." She scowled. "It displeases me."
Xander turned to his best friend. "Will? Are you trying to displease the ridiculously powerful hell-god? Need I remind you we don't have a slayer or twenty to help us." He jabbed his thumb where Spike lay. "Just Blondie McUseless whimpering on the floor over there."
Willow glared at Illyria. "If I start talking, Miss Snooty-Pants here will get all, all uppity and attacky." Her gaze turned softer. "Plus, I don't think she'll like what I have to say."
"And that is?" Willow had pensive face. Xander motioned for her to continue. "C'mon now. Don't leave us hanging. Spill."
Willow took a deep breath and began. "Well, 'see it's like this. Energy can't be destroyed, only changed. Right?" Xander nodded, but Illyria did not see the relevance of the witch's statement and said so. Willow thought for a moment, then continued. "Souls are a kind of energy, 'see? That's why, when a person dies, the soul passes on instead of staying put. A soul can't be destroyed. It can be changed, altered, removed even, but not ever destroyed." She focused hard on Illyria." When you took Fred's body, you took everything about her. Mind, body, and soul."
Spike woke up fully expecting to be bitter about being left on the cold hard floor. But was instead floored, metaphorically speaking, by what he just heard. Spike repeated, in an awed whisper, what he said two years ago when Illyria had risen once again. "The body's just a tip of the theological."
-
The room was cold and dark. In the background he could hear the voices. Distant. Alien. Terrifying. They would speak in whispers so that he could not hear their plans, but loudly enough so that he knew when they spoke of him. They would keep to the shadows so that he could not see their form, yet remained visible enough for him to know they were inhuman. They taunted and teased him. Told him things to make him tremble with fear. They spoke of his daughter. His little girl. He begged for her life. He told them he would gladly stay if it would save her. The monsters laughed and laughed. They smiled their terrible hidden smiles, and wondered, in clear and awful voices, if he would realize why he was taken. When he did, the thought sent waves of panic shivering down his spine. He was bait, and there was nothing he could do about it. Keith Mars broke down and wept.