Part Two
Cordelia had got rid of the last of their clients - taking names and numbers and promising they would get back to them as soon as they had sorted out an escape route for them, and assuring them there was no need to worry. Yes it was an emergency, but she and Doyle were on top of this - it was their number one priority.
As Doyle still wasn't back, she switched the lights and computers off in the office and then headed down to the apartment. She went into the bathroom and started running a bath and then headed back to the kitchen to make herself a tea. Whilst she waited for the water to boil she ran back to the bathroom and added bubble bath. She swished her hand around, forming the bubbles and listened for the whistling of the kettle on the stove. It was times like this when she really missed Dennis. She was just beginning to realise just how much she had taken for granted having someone in her apartment to pick up after her, tidy up after her, make her drinks and run her baths. Doyle was nowhere near as reliable. She'd have to train him up.
Once the bath was run and the tea was made, she switched the radio on, stripped off her clothes - leaving them in a puddle on the floor; forgetting Dennis would not pick them up - and sank into the bathtub. She groaned and closed her eyes as she felt the warm water begin to soothe away the aches and pains and niggles of the day.
After a long session of luxuriating and exfoliating - and once her fingers had gone all pruny and her tea was finished - she got out of the bath, towelled dry and put her pajamas on. She was sat at her dressing table, brushing her hair, when she heard the door to the garage slam shut. 'Doyle? that you?'
There was no reply. 'Doyle? Are you OK?' She frowned, she couldn't hear him walking towards her - he wasn't talking. 'Doyle?'
'Don't look at me,' his voice suddenly came from the doorway.
'What?'
'Don't! Don't turn around.'
She tensed up. 'What's wrong?'
'It's horrible. I don't want you to see.'
'If something's wrong, I've got to see. Otherwise I can't help.'
She heard him take a deep sigh. 'OK then - you can turn around slowly, if you promise not to scream.'
'I promise.' She turned around, feeling her heart beating against her throat … and then she frowned. The doorway was empty. He wasn't there. 'Are you invisible?'
He cleared his throat, awkwardly. 'Down here,' he admitted. She glanced down. Her eyes widened and she bit her lip, trying to choke her reaction back. But she couldn't hold it in - and a moment later she exploded into laughter.
Fred had only spent a couple of hours back at home; just time enough for a shower and a quick nap. She had got up as soon as the first rays of sun had started to shine through the crack in the curtains - and now she was back in the lab, working the problem. The phone began to ring, and she pressed the button to take the call on speaker phone. 'Practical science department.'
'Uh - Fred.'
'Hi, Angel,' her voice was bright despite the earliness of the hour. 'Listen, about the epidemic - it might not be mystical after all.'
'Fred do you think you could...'
But she cut right across him, eager to give him her news. 'Knox found a systematic endocrine dysfunction common with all the children, similar to an obscure rainforest pathogen -'
'Fred.'
'- So I put in a call in to the CDC and-'
'Fred!' Angel's voice yelled. She came to a stop and looked surprised. When he spoke again his voice was softer, but still laced with irritation. 'Believe me - it's mystical.'
Cordelia was up early. She had managed to get Doyle to agree to go to bed last night - once she had stopped laughing - by promising him it was probably just a glamour and it would wear off in a couple of hours. But when she woke up and saw the tiny lump under the covers which was the puppet sleeping beside her, she had got up and decided to take some action. Not least because their demon clients couldn't see him looking like this - he looked ridiculous - they'd lose all respect for the mission and refuse to be evacuated from town if they thought the outfit was being run by a puppet.
She made some coffee and then sat on the sofa, switching the T.V on and muting it whilst she waited for Smile Time to come on. There was a noise in the doorway - she looked up. Doyle was awake and headed her way, she bit her lip but couldn't stop herself from smiling at the way his tiny little feet - in his perfectly miniature felt shoes - crossed over in front of each other as he walked. 'Morning,' she said.
'I don't see what's good about it,' he snapped, his little felt eyebrows knitting together into the most adorable scowl.
'Well - it's a good job I didn't say good morning then, isn't it?' she said lightly. She had to bite her lip again as he scrabbled his way up onto the sofa. When he sat down, his little legs didn't even reach the edge of the seat. He stared at his toes forlornly.
'I made you some coff…' she cut herself off, 'hang on - do puppets drink? Do you want coffee?'
'I…' he raised his flat, three fingered, felt hands and stared down at them. He couldn't see how he could possibly manage a normal sized cup when he was this small, or how he would grip it. 'I'm fine.'
He sounded so mournful. Cordelia had to bite her lip again. 'You know it could be worse.'
'How?' he stared at her like she was mad, 'how could this be worse?'
'Well … at least you're adorable. I mean … not that you're not always adorable, but today you're so … weeny. Look at you!'
'Stop it.'
'With your teeny little leather jacket.'
'Shut up.'
'And your super small bowling shirt. You even have little felt chest hair… it's adorable.' She reached out a finger to tickle him.
'Get off!' He slapped her hand away with his own fuzzy mitt. She giggled in delight. He only scowled deeper. 'You know, I don't know why you're laughin' … if I don't get clear o' this hex then you're the one that's gonna have to marry a puppet.'
'That's true…' she giggled again, 'are you … uh … anatomically correct?'
The soft, black squares of his eyebrows hit the top of his fuzzy forehead. 'I don't know. I don't wanna know. I'm not checkin' … and neither are you!' He slapped her hand away again, in case she was getting any ideas.
She bit back a smile, furrowed her brow and then leaned over and pulled his nose off. She held it wonderingly in her hand, 'I thought that was the case,' she said, examining it, thoughtfully. 'Look - velcro. I wonder if any other parts are detachable.'
Doyle's little hands had flown to the now bare midsection of his face, he could feel the felt of his skin snagging on his own velcro. 'Gib me my bose back!'
Fred poked her head around the office doorway. It seemed to be empty. Angel's swivel chair was turned away from her, though so … maybe. 'Angel?' she asked uncertainly, stepping inside the room. ' Are you all right?'
Gunn and Wesley followed her in. 'you sounded weird on the phone.'
'Yes, is there a problem?' Wesley asked.
'Oh - I'd say there's a problem.' He span his chair around, so he was facing them. Their mouths fell open. 'Whoa!' Gunn breathed.
'Angel? Is that... you?' Wesley peered at the very angry looking little puppet that was staring back at them. It's hair stuck up straight, just like Angel's, and it had the coat … and the glower. But it was just ... one foot high and made of felt.
'Oh my god!' Fred cried, taking in the sight of her boss reduced to a puppet. She rushed round to his side and stared at him. 'Angel you're … cute!'
The puppet turned away from her and held up a hand, trying to block his face from her sight. 'Fred - don't.'
But the little hands were one of the cutest parts of him, and she bent over to examine them better - exclaiming in delight. 'And the hair!' she scratched his head. He slapped her hand away. 'Hey! You're fired!' She took a step back and frowned.
Lorne pushed the door open then and walked in, apologising for being late. 'Sorry I'm late, gang. What's with the big…' he caught sight of Angel. 'Puppet?'
'Angel - what happened to you?' Wesley asked him.
'I'm not sure. I went over to Smile Time last night, and I think their office is under some kind of spell. I could feel it trying to get at me. I - I shook it off. Then I met Doyle. We went into the office … and there was a guy with a towel over his head. And something exploded … I woke up like this.' He banged his little felt fist down on the desk in anger.
'Hang on a mo' - Irish was there?' Gunn asked. 'Did he end up a puppet way of looking too?'
'I don't know - I never saw him after the explosion and all the bright lights.'
'Well it's obviously…' Wesley was trying very hard not to laugh, 'some sort of hex…' he fought to keep his face straight, 'or powerful… warding magic.' But then he gave in, his shoulders heaved silently - and beside him everyone else was having just as hard a time holding things together.
'Maybe it's some type of puppet cancer?' Lorne suggested.
'I do not have puppet cancer!' Angel yelled from between gritted teeth. 'Come on guys - this is serious. I'm a puppet. And there are children's lives at …' he caught sight of the clock, gasped and jumped down from his chair, running across the office to his T.V. 'it's Smile Time.' He grasped the remote and aimed it at the screen, but his little hands fumbled with the buttons - and he only succeeded in turning the T.V onto the set up menu. 'Stupid plastic piece of crap,' he seethed - banging the control against the table, petulantly. Then he looked up and saw everyone staring at him 'what?'
...
'Oh hey - it's time,' Cordy picked the remote up and turned the sound back on.
'Don't know what you're hopin' to achieve watchin' this junk,' Doyle muttered darkly, folding his little arms across his chest and sulking.
'Well - it's the only lead we have to put this right. Otherwise I'm spending my wedding night with a 12 inch high, fuzzy Ken doll. Maybe this junk can get you back your junk.' She began to nod her head along in time to the cheery singing.
...
Lorne took the remote from his boss, 'well, Angel - it's OK,' he said, turning it to the right channel. Wesley was watching the scowl on Angel's face. Not that he didn't often scowl - but this one seemed deeper - more expressive - which was surprising in a puppet. 'This transformation may have altered your stress response mechanism,' he said.
'What?'
'He's saying you have the proportionate excitability of a puppet your size,' Gunn explained to him.
On the T.V, the puppets had stopped singing and were now on with the show. The brown dog approached the two human puppets - Polo and the girl. 'Oh hey there.'
'Hi.'
'Aw - looks like Polo has a case of the grumpies,' the dog said.
...
Puppet Doyle snorted. 'This is ridiculous.'
'Sshhh,' Cordy hushed him. 'I'm listening.'
'Yeah he sure does, Groofus,' the puppet girl told the dog, on the screen, 'That mean old Mr. Fish and Chips said that Polo won't win the race tomorrow - no matter how hard he tries.'
'Uhuh - and I feel just awful,' Polo said, 'what if Mr. Fish and Chips is right?'
Puppet Doyle watched Cordelia watching the show. 'You're enjoyin' this!' he accused her. She turned to look at him, her eyes wide and innocent. 'It's a compelling story! I'm invested.'
'Uhuh - well just you remember - those freaks turned me into one o' 'em. So you better get invested in stoppin' 'em real fast.'
She giggled. 'Oh - Doyle! The puppets didn't do this. They're just puppets. They're not alive!'
Doyle flexed his little felt hands in front of his eyes. 'I'm alive,' he muttered darkly.
...
The shapeless purple puppet made a hooting noise with the horn where his nose and mouth should be, sounding like a squeaky toy.
Fred picked up the phone and spoke to her assistant, asking her to tape to the show currently airing on channel twelve. She was going to want a full spectrum analysis.
Angel was staring at the screen, his red mouth hanging open. His brow began to furrow more and more deeply and his little hands curled into tiny, felt fists of fury as the puppets took up their song: 'Self esteem is for everybody. Self esteem is for everyone. You can dream and be anybody but self esteem is how you get it done.'
'Wes, put the special ops team on red alert!' he barked - unable to contain the rage any longer. 'I want helicopters - and tear gas. This is war!'
The team glanced at each other, trying to bite back their laughter. Lorne sat down beside him and patted him comfortingly on the head. 'Angel, baby, muppet, pumpkin - this show is number one in it's time slot. Tykes love it all across the Southland.'
'Connor watches it when he stays at mine,' Wesley said.
'See? - we can't just toss a Jihad at their studio.'
Angel sighed. Fine. But he wanted to know who ran Smile Time.
Lorne knew the guy - of course - it was a man called Gregor Framkin, his was a real rags to riches story. Started out in his garage with a couple of used couches and a glue gun - turned it into a puppet goldmine.
'Yeah. Great. You and Gunn go over there and meet with Framkin, put some pressure on, see if he cracks. Let him know we're onto him. Fred, Wes - I need you to figure out what Framkin's done to those kids…' he looked at his little hands, 'and what he's done to me. Oh - and ring Cordy and Doyle, check he's OK. And guys…' he stopped them just as they were leaving. 'My ... condition - it's classified until further notice. OK?' They nodded - and the door closed behind them.
...
'So did you learn anythin'?' Doyle snapped.
'You mean apart from a valuable lesson in self belief and not letting other people's negativity stop me from achieving my goals?'
He launched himself forward and bit her on the hand. 'Ow!' she cried out, shaking him off. 'Doyle!' She stole his nose again and sat him back down firmly on the couch. 'We don't bite,' she said sternly.
'Dorry,' he said, sounding more than a little ashamed. 'Cab I hab my bose back?' She handed it back across and he fixed it in place, patting it to make sure it was straight. 'So what now?'
'I guess you're gonna have to tell me everything that happened. Start from the beginning.'
He took a deep breath - and the phone began to ring.
Angel headed back to his desk, sighing deeply, when behind him the door started to open again. 'Angel?' Nina's voice floated through. He gasped in horror, threw the remote on the floor and took a flying leap towards his desk. He landed on the chair and then rolled down to the ground, hiding underneath the furniture just as she came into the room.
'Angel?' She stepped inside the room - it appeared empty, though she didn't know where else he would be at this hour.
As he tried to hide beneath the desk, he made a noise - betraying his presence. 'Dammit,' he hissed. He heard her footsteps move towards him. 'You … are you under your desk?'
'No,' he answered ridiculously. He hung his head - he was gonna have to front this one out. 'Yes. Is there something you wanted?'
'Well… I can see you're … busy.' She sounded hurt. 'Listen - what I put out there last night, I don't know if that was a problem, please -'
'Nope, no problem,' he called out, straining to sound natural. It obviously wasn't fooling her. 'Is there a reason you won't look at me?' she asked.
''Cause I'm under my desk.'
'Angel -'
'Nina -' he couldn't keep this up anymore. 'Would you mind … getting out of here?' Through the slats in his desk, he saw her nod bitterly and turn to leave. 'All right … sorry I guess.'
Well - that was another relationship ruined forever. Shot down in flames because he was an awkward weirdo that everyone insisted on treating like a champion. He'd tried to warn them. He'd told Wesley just last night. No one ever listened to him. He was over 200 years old - everyone else was 30 tops. You'd think they'd believe him when he said he wasn't the kind of guy that could be around people and not be … like he always ended up being. After 200 years he should know! They should trust his judgement on himself.
'What a nightmare,' he groaned, pulling himself back up into his swivel chair. He had only just settled himself down when the door burst open again and this time Spike barged in. 'alright big guy! I killed some ponce last night - said he worked for you - you don't mind do …' his eyes fell onto Angel - and he came to a dead stop.
'Spike …'
'Look at you.'
'Just turn around and walk away.'
'You're a -'
'Spike!'
But Spike's face was now split in two with a grin, and he was laughing uncontrollably. 'You're a bloody puppet!'
Angel launched himself at Spike. The vampire stumbled backward, the puppet wrapped around his throat - and tumbled out through the door and into the lobby, slamming down onto the ground. Angel was on top of him, punching away - but Spike, underneath, was roaring with laughter. And all the lawyers and paralegals and secretaries crossing the lobby came to a stop to watch.
'You're a wee little puppet man,' Spike howled, his face lit up like it was Christmas. Angel thumped him in the nose. 'Ow!' He laughed again. So Angel punched him again - harder this time. 'Ow - that's enough.' He pushed the puppet off himself, throwing him high up in the air. Angel landed on his little feet and glared up at Spike from 12 inches off the floor. Spike got back to his feet, still chortling. 'What the hell happened to you? You look ridiculous.'
'Get out of here, Spike,' the puppet growled.
Harmony leaned over her desk to get a better view. 'Oh my God, Angel - you're a…'
'Shut up!' he pointed at her. His voice was trembling with anger - and there was a stark and serious warning laced in there … but it was a warning coming from a puppet. Meanwhile, Angel had become aware of the stillness around him - of all his employees staring at his weeny puppet form. 'Well, what are you all looking at?' he snapped.
'They're looking at the wee little puppet man.'
Angel growled and launched himself back towards Spike, biting into his forearm. Spike yelled out in pain and smashed his arm against the wall, trying to dislodge the puppet. But Angel clung on, grimly - and Spike stumbled backwards, tumbling into the elevators. The door closed behind them - and the whole lobby was silent as everyone in there listened to the sound of thumps and bangs coming from inside the lift. 'Stupid, limey piece of crap,' Angel was heard to say. And the door opened again, revealing Spike lying on the floor in a crumpled mess - and Angel walked back out into the lobby.
He looked up at all his employees. 'Yes, I'm a puppet,' he said defiantly. 'Doesn't mean you don't all have work to do.' He walked back to his office - it took ages on his short, little legs - and he felt the eyes of the law firm on him the whole way.
...
The elevator door slid closed on Spike once more, just as the one beside it opened up - and Cordy stepped into the lobby, followed by a very tiny and felt Doyle lurking down by her ankles, peering furtively out from behind her legs.
Gunn and Lorne were shown into Framkin's office. The man himself was in there, sitting at his desk, wearing a pair of magnifying goggles and wielding a hot glue gun, creating some new puppets. He looked up as the two men arrived, 'Hi there,' he greeted them. He pushed his goggles to the top of his head and smiled at them. 'Forgive me for not getting up - I'm a bit glued in at the moment.' He chuckled at his own joke.
Gunn did not smile back. 'Mr. Framkin, we've been tracking an epidemic that's affecting a great many -'
'Cocoa?' Framkin asked. Gunn was thrown off his stride, 'what?'
'I could have some cocoa brought in. Extra yummy. It's got those itty bitty marshmallows.'
'Ooh those are good,' Lorne said eagerly - but then he spotted Gunn's serious business face and his own demeanour changed to match. 'Listen, Santa, you keep your tempting beverages to yourself. We're from…'
'Wolfram and Hart, yes I've heard of it - and of you,' Framkin smiled genially. 'Made quite an impression in our little industry. So much accomplishment despite your unfortunate deformities.'
Lorne frowned, offended. 'Deforma whats?'
'We have a song here at Smile Time which reminds me of your courage and pluck. It's called … courage and pluck. It goes a little something like this … oh courage and pluck, courage and pluck …'
'OK Framkin, enough,' Gunn cut through the singing. Framkin went quiet and looked at the younger man politely, as if eager to hear what he had to say. 'We're onto you - you understand? We're gonna shut you down.'
'Oh my - on what grounds?' he asked - still courteous.
'Well for starters, violations of the provisions of section 5 …' he stuttered, the next number wasn't in his head. '5 …' he wrinkled his brow trying to find it, '6 -8-C set forth in chapter 15 of the children's…' it was gone. 'T.V thing!' He snapped in frustration. 'You turned my boss into a frickin puppet.'
'I disagree,' Framkin replied calmly.
'Yeah - but - you - you … what?'
'And if your intention is to pressure me, extort money, or do any of the things your firm is famous for then I'm afraid you're in for a fight.'
Lorne put his hands on the desk and leaned over menacingly. 'Yeah, well - a fight suits us just fine, Papa Smurf. We're gonna let the entire world know what you're up to.'
'Up to?' Framkin laughed in surprise. 'Gentleman, I bring joy and laughter to children. You bring tax exemptions to nasty corporations, acquittals to the clearly guilty. Frankly, I don't think the world wants to hear from you.'
'Come on Lorne,' Gunn said, his tone and expression matched in disgust. 'We're done talking to this hump of garbage.'
'Ah ah,' Framkin wagged a jolly finger at him, 'no name calling at Smile Time.'
Lorne gave him a furious glare as he left the room, 'bad person,' he shouted before he slammed the door.
...
Once left alone, Framkin began to whistle the theme tune for the show, until the sound of their footsteps retreated … and then Polo pulled his arm out of the hole in Framkin's back. The man collapsed forward on the desk, lifeless now no one was controlling him. Meanwhile, the puppet picked up the phone. 'Get everybody in here,' he said into it, 'we got a problem.'
