Chapter 9

Angel didn't know how long he had been strapped up inside his little, glass cell. But it must have been more than a day by now - his limbs were cramped and aching and he was starving. They had stopped feeding him, since his escape attempt. They were much more wary around him now. His hunger gnawed away inside of him like a live animal. But it hurt nowhere near as much as the guilt and the fear.

The woman scientist appeared at the other side of the glass, her pen scratching against her notes as she observed him. 'And how are we feeling today number 20?' She asked.

He ignored her. 'My bet is you'd rather like something to eat, right about now.' He ignored that as well, turning his head as far as he could, within the confines of his bonds, so he didn't have to look at her. 'Aren't you a little old to be playing such childish games?' her voice was amused now. He still didn't look.

Maggie leaned her hand against the glass and pressed forward. 'How old are you, number 20?' she asked him, '100? 200? Older? Most vampire class sub terrestrials are poor specimens indeed. But you - and your brother - have proved to be something else entirely.

He didn't react.

'Ah - you're worrying about your brother,' she said, watching the way he kept his face completely still, careful to betray no emotion. 'How touching.' Her voice had a mocking quality to it now.

He stared at the opposite wall, blindingly white and blank and smooth. Nothing to see, but he wasn't going to look at her. And he wasn't reacting. No he was not worrying about Spike. He never worried about Spike, even when the idiot vampire had been new to the whole creature of the night thing and they were part of a family together. Spike could take care of himself.

He was worried about what Spike was doing right now. And what would happen when the Initiative found him. And who they might find him with.


'Giles did you see my ring?' Buffy asked, stretching her hand out to display the skull which now decorated her third finger.

'Thankfully not very well.' Giles was lying on his sofa, a wet cloth over his mysteriously misty eyes and a glass of much needed scotch in his hand. Spike was unchained and in the armchair, Buffy sitting on his knee for some … baffling reason. Giles didn't understand - but the scotch was helping. Not helping him understand, but helping take the edge off the whole situation; sooth his frayed nerves. But even the scotch wasn't helping block out the sound of lip smacking coming from the armchair.

'Mmm... We've just got so much to decide - so much to think about,' Buffy said, wrapping her arms around Spike's neck and leaning down for another, deep kiss. 'Like the invitations. Do you want us to put 'Spike' on there or 'William the Bloody'? 'Cause either way it's gonna look majorly weird.'

'Whereas the name 'Buffy' will give it that touch of classic elegance.'

She pulled away from him looking offended. 'What's wrong with Buffy?'

'Huh … such a good question,' Giles said from down on the couch. Buffy was still frowning. But Spike was unrepentant: 'Well it's a terrible name'.

'My mother gave me that name.'

'Your mother - yeah - she's a genius.'

'Don't you start up at my mother -' her voice became high pitched and she wagged an angry finger in her fiance's face.

'Guys!' Xander had been stood by the kitchen, this whole time, watching events unfold with a baffled, bemused and occasionally disgusted expression on his face. Willow had wandered off somewhere - to mope, no doubt. And he knew he should be worrying more about her, she was in legitimate pain and clearly not coping but … it was kind of a relief to be away from her sucking black hole of despair. Even the few minutes he'd spent with her had dragged him right down. And anyway - the situation here was much more pressing than Willow's heartbreak, which looked set to continue for the next few months at least. 'Don't you think we have more pressing things to be thinking about right now?'

'He's right,' Buffy agreed, retracting her finger and kissing Spike again. 'Forget invitations - we've got flowers, seating plans…'

'Not the seating plans!' Xander cried. 'Buffy - you've gone insane. We need to find and rescue Angel. That's what matters now. And I cannot believe I am the one having to tell people this. I cannot believe I have to be focus guy. I don't even like dead boy.'

'He's not wrong, pet,' Spike said to Buffy, leaning up for another kiss. 'I can't get married without a best man - and it's only right Angel do it, what with him being my grandsire and all.'

'That's true, I guess he's family.' Their lips smacked together for a few - very long - seconds and there were various pleasured moaning sounds. Xander looked away. Giles closed his eyes behind his damp cloth. 'But do you think he'll be OK with this?' She pulled away suddenly and looked concerned. 'I mean - he and I have history.'

'And that's all it damn well is,' Spike suddenly sounded angry. 'History - ancient at that. He left and you moved on - to me. I won't be second best. The consolation prize because the favoured vampire got away.'

'You think this is easy for me either?' Buffy cried, sounding anguished that he doubted the depths of her love. 'You think I don't live with the shadow of Drusilla over my head? That I'm not wondering if you're going to be thinking of her on our honeymoon when you're ... making sweet love to me?' They gazed into each other's eyes for a long, intense moment - and then the anger and jealousy melted back into lust and they started to kiss again. It looked like they were trying to eat each other's faces.

'OK guys, stop. STOP! Time out,' Xander made a T with his hands. 'There's not gonna be a honeymoon and no … sweet love. Only rescue plans - that's all I wanna hear. And once we've saved dead boy maybe we can figure out what exactly the hell is…'

The door opened and Anya arrived, she walked inside leaving the front door hanging wide open. She seemed unimpressed by the sight of the kissing couple and the incapacitated Giles and only had eyes for Xander. 'I missed you,' she said, wrapping her arms around his neck and going onto her tiptoes for a kiss.

He wriggled out of her embrace, 'me too - but maybe now's not the time, Ahn.'

'What?' she pulled back, sounding hurt - and maybe a little vengeful.

'Everything's gone nuts. Buffy and Spike won't stop kissing, Giles isn't moving and …. There's a demon at the door.'

Sure enough, there was a red skinned demon with grey tufty hair and a mouthful of fangs standing in the doorway. It roared out - and rushed straight at Xander.


The bell above the magic shop door tinkled as Cordelia and Doyle entered the premises. 'Remember, we're looking for motherwort,' she told him. She was keeping her voice low, as if she was in a library or a church, and she wasn't sure why. This place just felt like you should be quiet in there. Maybe it was the fusty smells, the incense and the candles, and the dust motes dancing in the light beams that were making her think of hallowed places.

'Right - uh - what is motherwort exactly?'

She giggled. 'I don't know - let's just hope it's labelled.' They separated out and began to scan the shelves. In spite of herself, she found that she kept peeking at the Irishman as they hunted through the shelves - and thinking about what Anya had said.

As she searched through raven's feathers and newt's eyes - completely lost amongst the occult paraphernalia - she watched the woman who ran the shop approach Doyle. Apparently - as all at sea as Cordy was - he must look even more lost than she did, if he was the one getting the customer service.

'Blessed be,' the woman greeted him, bowing her head and putting her hands together like in prayer.

'Oh - uh - um - hi…' he looked even more flustered - and his eyes flew across the room and met Cordelia's, briefly. She immediately quit looking at him, dropping her gaze and looking intently at the chicken's feet in front of her, instead. She could feel the slow burn on her cheeks, the sudden blush at having been caught out looking at him.

'Can I help you?' the woman asked Doyle, smiling pleasantly.

'Uh - yeah - thanks … I'm lookin' for motherwort.'

The shopkeeper suddenly smiled in understanding. 'Ah - no wonder you seem so lost - did your partner send you here to get it for her?'

'My - uh - my what?'

The woman turned and began to walk away, leading Doyle over to the plant section of the store. 'Well it's a good seller among women. Very good for menstrual cramps.'

'Oh.'

From what Cordelia could see of him, he was rubbing the back of his neck, awkwardly - as if unsure how he had fallen down the rabbit hole of this conversation. 'I need it for a truth spell,' he told the lady.

She laughed at the misunderstanding. 'Oh - sorry - I didn't mean to embarrass you.'

'No it's fine. I've been married. I've done the whole late night dash to get chocolate after having heavy objects thrown at me thing.'

The lady laughed again. 'Sounds about right.'

Across the store, Cordelia suddenly felt her stomach flip flop, like she had missed a step in the dark. She knew he had been married, she had hung out with his wife - liked her, even. She had recently quizzed him on the subject - and he had answered openly and honestly. But somehow … hearing him talk so casually about having had that type of intimacy; the type you could only ever experience with someone you lived full time with; the kind where there were no secrets and barriers - where one of you would just walk in and use the bathroom whilst the other was in the shower - somehow, hearing him talk about that made her feel funny inside.

She hadn't really thought about that aspect of his marriage - she'd really only asked about the superficial stuff, and how it all came to go so wrong. But the actual marriage part of his marriage had never crossed her mind. That he'd lived this whole, intimate life with another woman. And if he had had that once … then wouldn't that be what he was looking for again? And was that what she wanted? Was she ready for that? To lie on the sofa clutching her hot water bottle whilst Doyle brought her Dandelion tea and painkillers?

She couldn't even begin to imagine ever having that with Xander. Xander was not ready to deal with menstrual cramps and mood swings - he'd just make inappropriate jokes to mask his awkwardness and run away. In fact - she wasn't even sure Xander was ready for the small stuff, like sharing the remote. There was a whole world of intimacy - not good stuff, but daily grind stuff - that she wasn't sure Xander was ready for. He still wanted life to be easy. And if there was anything Cordelia had learned since her folks got busted by the IRS, it was that life wasn't easy. It was ugly and it was messy - and sharing it with someone meant sharing the ugliness and mess, alongside the candlelight supper's and nights of passion. Real love meant you couldn't have one without the other. Xander was not ready for that. And she'd always judged Doyle by using Xander as her measuring stick.

She'd always seen so many parallels between the two men, enough to make her push Doyle away out of fear of repeated history - even when she wanted to get closer, that fear made her keep pushing. They were both poor, they both had tragic dress sense, they both told a lot of jokes - talked too much. But they were both brave, willing to fight demons much bigger than themselves with no powers to help them. They had both proven they would throw themselves into danger in order to protect Cordelia. They both made her laugh. Xander was a cheat … and it was fear that they held this in common that made Cordelia hold herself back.

But listening in to him chatting with the shopkeeper - just casually talking about women's things in relation to his marriage; joking but not inappropriate … and knowing that he had the actual experience to back this up; it wasn't just some silly, high school, boy's laughing at girl's parts - mostly out of fear of them - thing, really brought home the fact that Doyle was a man, whereas Xander was just a scared, lost, little boy.

And Xander had cheated on her because he was exactly that - a silly, little boy. He had wanted it all at once, her and Willow - and thought he could get away with it. He had thought saying 'sorry' and buying flowers was enough to make the betrayal go away. He had tried to deflect the blame for his actions. And he had destroyed what they had because he was too immature to value it, and he wasn't ready for getting really serious. She had valued it - she had been serious - hell, she had given up enough to be with him - but she was on her own in that relationship. Further ahead than Xander Harris was ready to be. So he cheated. And disaster and heartbreak followed.

But Doyle wasn't like that. He'd already had something lasting and meaningful and deeply intimate. And that was what he was looking for now - and maybe he wanted that with her. And if she decided she wanted that with him … then she wouldn't be on her own in this relationship. They'd be in the same place. And then maybe disaster and heartbreak didn't have to be inevitable. She took a deep breath - this was a big plunge she was considering - and off the back of his reaction to menstrual cramps … but maybe that was the sort of little thing she should be looking for, the sort of sign that someone was ready for big time, scary love. It showed they knew it wasn't all going to be raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens, and they were ready for that - embraced it even. And maybe Anya was right - maybe she should be forward, put herself out there. Not 'take her clothes off and ask for sex' out there. But say something. Definitely say something.

Across the store, the lady rang up the order and bagged up the motherwort, passing it across to Doyle as he paid. He thanked her and nodded goodbye and then stopped at the shelf Cordelia was lurking behind to pick her up. 'I got it,' he told her, looking pleased with himself for successfully navigating the mysteries of a magic shop, entirely oblivious to the soul searching journey she had been on whilst he shopped.

She put her biggest, brightest smile on, 'that's great,' and slid her arm through his. He glanced down at where their arms were linked - a little surprised and more than a little pleased - but didn't say anything.

'Let's get this back to Giles,' she said.


Xander pushed Anya to the side and took a swing at the demon as it launched itself at him. He grabbed it by the upper arms and they grappled, banging into the kitchen counter and against the furniture.

'What's going on?' Giles called out - unable to see, but painfully aware of the disturbance.

'Demon!' Xander choked out, trying to pry the demon off his throat. And then Buffy was there, she grabbed it from behind and tossed it away. It slammed against the counter - and she began to pummel it.

'No no - it's a Serparvo demon - drowning is the only way to kill it!' Anya called from amidst the chaos. Xander and Buffy glanced at each other and then between them, bundled the demon back through the door and out into the courtyard - to where the little fountain was bubbling away. They dragged it over to the edge, hauled it up and then pushed it's head and shoulders under the water - holding it down until it went still.

'That was easy,' Buffy said, walking away, dusting her hands down. She sat back on Spike's lap and leaned in for another kiss. 'Gimme some sugar,' he said.

'It's all yours,' she kissed him again.

Xander followed her back into the apartment, closing the door behind him. But only a moment later it was ripped off its hinges, as this time a green and scaly demon came rushing through - headed straight for Xander.


'So I was thinking,' Cordelia said, as she and Doyle walked back through the streets. She kept her tone light, but her heart was hammering in her chest a mile a minute. But it was time to speak up. They were on the cusp of a new century, the dawn of a new millennium - if she wanted something then she just had to reach out and take it. The old ways didn't matter anymore. She could ask a guy out if she wanted him, she didn't have to wait to be asked - she was nearly a twenty first century woman.

'You know .. not right now, when everything's crazy but … later… you know … well maybe we could … you know… grab a coffee or something.'

'If you want a coffee we can stop off and get one on the way back,' Doyle said, 'I'm sure we can get you one to go.'

She closed her eyes and sighed deeply. He had missed it completely. 'No - I mean …' she pulled him to a stop and turned so they were facing each other. 'I mean you and me. Together. Go get a coffee sometime.'

'Oh - you mean…' he gestured between the two of them. 'Oh…' a thousand expressions flitted across his face - chasing each other in quick succession. She was asking him out. At least - it seemed like she was asking him out. And that was … so much more than he had ever dared to hope for. That was … I mean if she was doing the asking, then that must mean that she really wanted it, right?

He thought - dared to hope, even - that a time might come when she might give the right signals, that he might work up the nerve to ask her out - and that she would accept. But it never really occurred to him that she would be that into the idea - he thought that, should he ever get her to agree to a date, he would still have a lot of work to do convincing her that this could be a good thing.

But now she was asking him - and that must mean she was more keen for it than he had ever realised, and that was… so heart stoppingly wonderful that he didn't even know what to say. He didn't know what he could possibly have done to make her start seeing him in a more dateworthy light but… whatever it was he was grateful.

But - as much as he wanted this, and as much as he hated that he couldn't accept... he couldn't accept. She didn't know his secret. He couldn't let her go out with him, thinking he was a normal, human man - when really he was a demon. She wouldn't want him once she found that out. And he couldn't blame her - who would want to date a demon? But he couldn't just tell her because … once he told her, she would reject him out of hand, and any hope he had would be dashed forever. It would be over. He wasn't ready for it to be over. But now she was asking him out and he couldn't accept. So he just stared at her with nothing to say.

Her own expression had gone from being one of shy hope, to irritation and embarrassment. 'Well if you don't wanna, you can just say 'no',' her voice was hard, like she was trying to cover her hurt.

'No!'

'Fine,' she turned from him and began to walk away again, her head down - using the curtain of her hair to hide her flaming face, and the hurt in her eyes. 'Forget I said it … sorry.'

'No I mean - ' he grabbed at her, pulling her to a stop once again. 'I mean … everything's crazy now and it's - you're right - it's not the time. Maybe when this all over…'

Her expression was becoming hopeful again, 'yes?'

He sighed. 'Maybe when this is all over, we can talk? There's some things we need to talk through before we …'

'Like what?'

'Just … stuff we need to talk about. Important stuff.'

'Why can't we talk about it now?'

Because he wasn't ready for this to be over. 'Because Angel is missin' and there are bigger things to think about. Can we … I dunno … put a pin in this until we get back to L.A?'

Her face fell again - she thought he was giving her the brush off, rejecting her by putting it off until they were home- when he would suddenly find another reason and then another reason why they couldn't go out. Her look tore at his heart. He should have just told her already - then this wouldn't even be an issue. He wouldn't be hurting her right now. 'Look, Cordy, I would really love to get a coffee with you sometime. But I'm afraid things are … complicated and - I don't wanna mess this up with 'complicated' - you mean too much to me. I wanna get this right, which means waitin' until we can talk properly - before we agree anythin'. If you're OK with waitin'. Please?'

'I just don't know why you can't be straight with me.'

'Because…' he suddenly narrowed his eyes, looking at something over her shoulder. 'Cordelia - I need you to turn slowly - no don't look! Turn slowly and tell me if you think there's anythin' off about those guys behind you.'

Carefully, she turned her head and eyed up the group of men Doyle had surreptitiously gestured towards. No wonder he had noticed them, they were all huge, well over 6 feet tall and with muscles bulging out of their preppy button down shirts. Their clothes … didn't look like the kind of clothes guys like that would wear. Slacks and shirts with collars. And they were ironed so that the pleats were precision creases. Like, military grade precision. What were the chances of a group of macho he -men all walking the streets looking like they'd just come from a church barbecue?

They each carried a large backpack - which did not go with their outfits, and made no sense. The knapsacks made it look like they were going camping, their clothes made it look like they were going square dancing. And a couple of them held gadgets in their hands, hi tech whizzy looking things which beeped and flashed. They were following where the gadget led them. 'Trace signatures heading in this direction …' one of them said - his voice carrying on the breeze.

She turned back to Doyle, 'do you think they're the army guys?' she hissed at him, 'in plain clothes?'

He nodded, 'I think they're undercover,' he murmured. 'And I think they're lookin' for somethin' specific.'

'Spike?'

'Maybe. We should go and tell the others.'

'Don't you think we should follow them? They might lead us to the entrance of their secret lab. We could find Angel.'

But Doyle shook his head. If these guys were military, then there was no way he and Cordy could get the jump on them. No way they could follow them and not be discovered. These guys would be specially trained in making sure they were not being tracked. If they attempted to follow the soldiers, all they would do is get themselves in trouble. And - as someone who was less than completely human, himself - he had personal reasons not to want to draw the attention of a group of government monster hunters.


Riley looked around the street - most people were just making their way through town, going about their own business. There was a young, dark haired couple stood not far away - having what looked like an intense conversation. The man was carrying a magic shop bag - what a kook! Riley couldn't believe people put any kind of faith into such silly mumbojumbo … and yet if that little guy ever saw a demon, he'd probably throw a shoe at it and run like a weasel. Would probably leave the girl he was talking to to die, whilst he ran away to protect himself.

Most people couldn't handle the truth of the world - the truth about hostile sub-terrestrials - and that was fine. But it annoyed him when people, who couldn't possibly handle the truth if it grew fangs and attacked them, dabbled in silly, mystical stuff for a thrill. It was a dangerous world out there, and people who didn't know what they were doing had no business trying to be a part of it. That was how they would end up getting themselves killed. Guys like that small man in the tan leather jacket should leave all this otherworldly stuff to people who knew what they were doing - to people like Riley. Guys like that should know their place, if they knew what was good for them.

'Trace signatures heading in this direction,' Graham told him, reading the screen of his tracker. Beside him Forrest snorted. 'You're crazy. A HST going to ground in a place this busy? No way.'

'I'm just reading what the scanner says - take it up with the tech, not with me,' Graham told him.

'I'm just saying - a HST should be hiding in some slime pit, or in a dark cave or a dusty crypt. They got no business in the human world. They live on the edges and prey on the weak. They don't go to the Espresso Pump for a cup of Joe.'

'Well this HST is wily,' Riley said, pulling his eyes away from the couple and looking back at his team. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the young couple hurry away. 'We've checked every slime pit in Sunnydale - he's not there. Maybe this is how he's evading detection. Maybe him and his immortal brides are hiding in plain sight, in amongst the sheep.'

'So, what? We start knocking on doors, checking motels?' Forrest asked.

'We start following the scanner - if it's picked up a trace then it'll take us where we're going.'

Graham nodded and studied the screen some more. 'This way,' he said, pointing in the direction the couple had just gone in - heading, unbeknown to themselves, right towards Giles' house.