Disclaimer: I don't own them.
Fred paced the lobby of the Hyperion, agitated.
She had a dilemma.
An enigma.
A quandary. A predicament. A conundrum.
A problem, even.
She, Winifred Burkle, needed to save Christmas.
This was not a situation in which she'd ever pictured herself.
(Well… at least not since she was seven.)
No one had been particularly willing to discuss the details of the previous night with her, but she'd been able to piece together a vague sequence of events. Apparently, the werewolf pack had been an asset of Wolfram & Hart's, and had fallen into Lilah's jurisdiction through some kind of creepy evil inter-office gift exchange. Deals had been struck and somehow, Angel and the others had managed to lose custody of the 24 fresh werewolf cubs, finding themselves completely outmatched when Lilah called in reinforcements.
In short, it had not been a good night, and an air of utter misery had settled over the entire Hyperion.
Even though the initial strum und drang of their circumstances had worn off, Fred was quite aware that if she didn't Do Something, and Fast! then Wesley would be grumpy for Christmas. And Cordy would be grumpy for Christmas, and so Charles would have to be grumpy as a show of loyalty. Angel, she understood, had been pretty much signed up to be grumpy for Christmas since last June. So unless she did something now, she and Lorne were going to have the carry the entire load of Christmas cheer for Connor all by themselves.
So it was up to her to save Christmas.
Fred plotted.
Her first plan had been to rescue the children from the depths of Wolfram & Hart herself. It lacked a certain amount of feasibility, she knew, but she couldn't bring herself to overrule it entirely. The thought of those kids separated from their families, probably getting brainwashed and then living a life of indentured servitude to the law firm… it made her sick inside.
But she knew her own limits, and so she tried to come up with a way that she could lighten the mood, seeing as she couldn't fix the problem.
She was gonna need some mistletoe.
-
Angel glared at the innocent-looking plant dangling above his head.
He loved his friends, and he wouldn't trade his life in L.A. for anything… but some days, he almost missed the lonely hours he spent brooding in that abandoned mansion. Just for a change of pace.
This was looking to be one of those days.
"Angel, what are you doing just standing there?" Cordelia asked, making her way towards Wesley's office. "We have work to do."
"Cordy, wait, no—"
"Gotcha!" Fred laughed merrily from her perch on the corner of Wesley's desk. For his part, Wesley looked like he was trying very hard to appear unamused.
"What?"
"Look up," Angel said tiredly.
"Fred!"
"I just thought we needed something to lift our spirits. And don't be upset at me—Wesley got Charles, after all."
"It was traumatizing, and we will never speak of it again," Gunn said from the far corner of the office.
Angel blustered. "I appreciate what you're trying to do, Fred, but we have more important… there are plans that need… we can't just…"
"Can the two of you please get your kissing over with so we discuss our options?" Wesley demanded impatiently.
Cordelia shrugged. "I'd love to, Wesley, but I think Angel is too afraid of my cooties to—"
Except then Angel ruined her point entirely by leaning over, crushing his lips against hers for a couple of seconds, and pulling away again.
"Um."
She remembered, of all things, her and Xander's first kiss after spending the summer apart at the beginning of senior year. Not the kiss itself, but the part before it—how she'd tackled a vampire into Xander's stake, how it had dusted between them and she'd fallen down on top of him. This reminded her of that. Of the way one second everything had been solid beneath her, and the next—wham. Or maybe boy-howdy. This felt more like a boy-howdy.
"Um," she said again, struggling to bring her eyes back into focus. "Hi."
They were both uncomfortably aware of how fast her heart was beating, the pulse in her neck thrumming erratically. She braced herself against the doorframe.
"Sorry," Angel mumbled, abashed. Which was pretty normal Angel behavior—except for the part where he'd just kissed her, and therefore nothing in this situation could be construed as normal Angel behavior. "I just figured I might as well get it over with."
She snorted. "How romantic." And the sarcasm eased both their nerves, bringing them back into familiar territory.
"I didn't mean it like that," he said quickly, reaching out to touch her and then stopping himself, as if suddenly a friendly pat on the shoulder was a major invasion of her personal bubble. 'A bit late for that now, buddy.' He cleared his throat and awkwardly continued, "Uh, I just meant the sooner we did it, the sooner everyone would stop staring at us, and the sooner we can get on with the meeting—"
"A capital idea, Angel. Let's do that," Wesley interrupted peevishly.
"Dork," Cordelia added under her breath. Tension broken, they took their seats.
As Wesley droned on about sewer access, however, Cordelia found her mind drifting.
This wasn't anything new, really. She suffered from what she had dubbed a "revolving crush" on Angel since she'd first laid eyes on him back in Sunnydale. Every now and then it would materialize out of the blue, turn her world upside down for a few weeks, and then vanish again. She was so used to it after her six year acquaintance with the vampire that she hardly paid it any attention anymore.
She sighed, resigned herself to just another one of those months, and tuned back in.
"…and besides, they have those vampire detectors installed, so any breach of the building itself is right out."
"Then we don't go to their main building," Cordy realized, an idea forming.
Gunn blinked at her. "You sound like a girl with a plan."
"Starting to. Look. We know Lilah got a hold of those kids because of Wolfram & Hart's fun-filled Secret Satan exchange, right?"
"Yeah…"
"Doesn't that mean they'll probably have stuff like that going down all over the city for the next few days?"
Wesley's eyes lit up. "I see. You're suggesting that instead of rescuing the children, we gain leverage by working horizontally and taking out a different part of their operation. Work a trade."
"It's how they got us the first time, isn't it? They go after what we want, then we go after them right back."
"I'm all for bringing the fight back to them," Gunn said carefully, "but how are we gonna figure out what stuff traces back to Wolfram & Hart? Not to mention, I ain't particularly keen on fightin' any more werewolves any time soon."
"Not all of the stuff they do is violence and rituals," Angel said quietly, breaking his silence. "Last year, around this time—" he winced as his partners sucked in a collective breath, "—well, there was this charity ball. They put it on through a front organization. They're probably doing one just like it this year."
Wesley adjusted his glasses, regaining his composure. "Then that's where we'll start. Take a look at their holdings, follow a paper trail… see if we can't find a connection."
"A connection with a handy Christmas party to sneak into," Cordelia added.
Wesley waved his hand and they retreated to their separate corners—he to his books, Cordy to her computer, and Gunn to the phone. Angel, knowing he wouldn't be welcome for a while, went to check on Connor. Fred trotted after him.
"Angel…" she started. He didn't stop walking. "Angel, hold on."
He paused at the top of the stairs.
"Why does everyone always go all quiet when someone brings up last year? What happened?"
Angel started walking again, but kept his pace slow so she could keep up. "I… Wesley wasn't always the boss, y'know. I used to… they trusted me and I took them for granted. Wolfram & Hart brought Darla back, and I… she drove me crazy. I fired the others to keep them safe, but they didn't… I couldn't…"
"Was it that bad?"
A muscle in Angel's jaw twitched. "Wesley got shot, and Cordelia wouldn't even let me see him. She kicked me out of the hospital."
"But that's so—"
"No, I deserved it."
Fred's mind raced. "Well… well you got Connor out of it all, didn't you?"
They had reached Angel's room. He opened the door quietly, looked in at his sleeping infant son. He nodded.
"Then maybe it all worked out for the best."
She rubbed his arm softly and then retreated back down the hallway.
"Yeah, maybe," he agreed quietly.
A/N Man. This was just gonna be a light fluffy mistletoe chapter, and then the angst just kind of pounced. I had nothing to do with it, I swear!
tomorrow: the charity ball.