Angel drummed his fingers on the dash impatiently, ignoring Wesley's gaze, which was fastened on the slowly climbing speedometer. Cordelia sat in the backseat, idly flicking through a trade paper and occasionally humming along with the music that pumped through her walkman earphones loudly enough to contribute to Angel's already considerable edginess.
"Sunnydale will still be there if it takes two hours to get there instead of one," Wesley said nervously, his foot jamming on an imaginary brake pedal as Angel screamed past the car in front and swung back into their lane, ignoring the blaring horn of an oncoming car.
"Wes, I've been driving for nearly a century," Angel said calmly, not looking at the other man. "I tried some of the earliest cars when it was pretty much a case of trial and error, I have driven a wider variety of motor vehicles than you can probably name, and I have watched as cars got faster, simpler, and safer. To top off, I've spent the last year or so driving in L.A. I know what I'm doing."
"Just please keep in mind that Cordelia and I can actually die," Wesley replied dryly.
Angel shot him a brief glance, then returned his attention to the road. He eased his foot off the gas and the convertible slowed imperceptibly.
"Thank you," Wesley breathed.
"Why are you going so fast?" Cordy asked, tuning into the conversation, "I can't say I'm eager to be back in Sunnyhell."
Angel looked at her in the mirror, habitually discounting that his own reflection did not appear in it.
"Sooner we're there, the sooner we can leave," he said. Cordy raised an eyebrow at him in the mirror, letting him know that she was not convinced.
"Giles said he'd grounded her," Wesley murmured mildly. "She's in no danger, you know."
"Grounding Buffy may work in theory, Wes," Angel answered grimly, "but you were her Watcher for long enough to know that doesn't mean much in practice."
"She knows what's at stake, Angel," Wesley reassured him. "She won't be out there."
* * * * *
"I should be out there," Buffy announced, prowling the back room of the shop restlessly.
"No, Buffy," Giles said without looking up from the book he was studying.
"No, Buffy," Willow reiterated, her eyes fixed on her computer.
"But I'm the Slayer," Buffy protested futilely. "I Slay, therefore I am."
"Well, tonight Xander and Riley are slaying therefore they... are," Willow said, wrinkling her nose. "Or something."
"Just vampires," Buffy bargained hopefully. "I will avoid any and all demonic activity and look for fledglings only."
"Fledglings count as demonic," Giles said, unruffled, "and you will fight neither tonight, Buffy."
"But I feel the need to pummel," Buffy complained, feeling itchy and cooped up. She gave the dummy a half-hearted punch. It rocked and she absent-mindedly reached out to steady it.
"Spike should be here soon," Willow offered.
"But kindly leave the pummelling until *after* he has shared whatever information he's found," Giles said.
"But before we pay him?" Buffy said with a half-smile, sitting on the floor and beginning a series of frenzied stretches.
"What am I saying?" Giles muttered, "You can't pummel him at all. It's unfair."
"Just 'cause he can't hit back," Buffy mumbled, going into a spontaneous routine of fluid, skilled gymnastic movements.
"You're totally hyper tonight," Willow said, spinning her chair around to scrutinise her friend carefully. "Have you been eating dark chocolate again?"
"No," Buffy said, modifying the martial technique she was engaged in to include a casual shrug.
Willow eyed her dubiously for a few moments, then got up without warning and grabbed Buffy, ducking to miss the high snap-kick that Buffy was aiming at her own reflection.
"Come on," she said, pulling Buffy onto the darkened shop floor.
"Give a girl a chance!" Buffy complained, snagging a half-full bottle of water and shaking Willow off so she could remove the top and greedily swallow down the clear liquid.
Willow positioned Buffy firmly against the counter and took her by the shoulders.
"Is this about Angel?" she questioned, looking into Buffy's eyes.
"He should be here by now, shouldn't he," Buffy said, the words spilling from her lips, "what if he's changed his mind, do you think..."
Willow hastily grabbed the bottle away from her as Buffy's nervous, supernaturally strong fingers began to twist the plastic out of shape.
"They're just a little bit late," Willow said, cutting off Buffy's babble. "They will be here. Are you going to tell him about your fatelines?" she asked.
"I don't know," Buffy said, sighing. "I mean, he might not even care anymore. And there's Riley to think about." She looked at Willow mournfully. "I really do care about him, Will. It's not love, but... I don't want to hurt him."
"You may not," Willow offered, fully seeing it as the poor comfort it was but unable to give more.
"Maybe," Buffy said with a weak smile, "but I think we both know that it's not likely."
"I think that if you..."
"Been a magick shop for *years*," Willow was interrupted by Cordelia's authorative tones as she pushed, "but I never figured Giles for an... oh. You're here." She was plainly not delighted to see Buffy and Willow, throwing a thin smile their way. Buffy looked on with an unwilling stab in her heart as Cordy's gaze tracked immediately to Angel, watching him anxiously, caringly, almost the way she and Angel had once looked at each other. Cordelia moved, more obviously than she realised, to stand at Angel's side; Wesley also unconsciously moved to flank him.
And then Buffy looked at Angel.
Their gazes met, and he smiled at her politely; but her eyesight was the Slayer's and she read him well, and she caught the flash of heat, the flicker of a love undimmed, before his gaze shuttered, blanked, and he was an understandably awkward guy in a difficult situation. She knew he felt awkward, because he looked too big for the room around him, his tall form overpowering the surroundings; the skill to utilise that or equally hide it was something he had mastered long ago.
"Wesley did call," Angel said, directing the comment at Buffy with a tentative half-smile and a casual shrug. Cordelia, Willow and Wesley shot him slightly bewildered looks, and part of Buffy thrilled at the familiar feeling of having a connection with him, knowing that she and only she knew what was on his mind.
"And maybe if you were better on the phone, he wouldn't have had to," Cordelia said teasingly, brushing past him with an affectionate knock on the shoulder - and the feeling withered in Buffy as she was reminded that she didn't know what was on his mind anymore; hardly knew his mind at all.
"Angel, Wesley, Cordelia," Giles said in a welcoming tone, coming through from the back at the sound of new voices, "I trust you had a good journey?"
"Angel tried to splatter us on the road," Cordelia said lightly.
"There is nothing wrong with my driving," Angel protested.
Cordelia heaved a sigh. "There's nothing wrong with his driving," she said to Giles.
"Thank you," Angel said.
"It's just his car is a heap of junk," she finished as if he hadn't spoken.
"That car is a classic," Angel grumbled, "and it's okay whenever you want to get to an audition or want to go shopping or have other needs you couldn't *possibly* use the subway for."
He was obviously mimicking her and Giles hid a smile. "Would you like to come through?" he said, stepping away from the doorway to usher them through.
"Well, maybe if you paid me enough to buy my own car I wouldn't have to use yours," he heard Cordelia say behind him.
"I will never make enough to pay for the kind of car you like," Angel retorted.
"What kind of car does he have?" Willow hissed to Buffy.
"It's a big, black, convertible... well, heap of junk, kind of," Buffy whispered back.
"I heard that!" Angel said.
"It's a classic," Wesley confirmed, gallantly standing aside to allow the women to go in before him. His gaze met Giles', standing on the other side of the door, and they shared a long-suffering smile. Giles was surprised by the other (former) Watcher's manner - he had grown in confidence, it seemed, fallen into a comfortable relationship with Angel and Cordelia. Giles was surprised to find himself quite liking the man.
"Nice room," Angel said, impressed, his gaze roaming slowly around the training area.
"Gift from the gang," Buffy said, putting an arm around Willow and hugging her proudly.
"You're doing okay with the hunting?" he said, leaning on the horse and looking at her probingly, his voice becoming taut.
"Best ever," she said, ignoring the way that the mirror behind the horse showed no-one.
"Yes, she's doing very well," Giles called from where he stood quietly conferring with Wesley. "She has been lacking for a sparring partner, though. Perhaps while you're here, you could...?"
"Sure," he said, his gaze never leaving Buffy. "Doesn't Riley train with you?"
Buffy flinched at the mention of her boyfriend. Right. Boyfriend, she thought. Which Angel is not.
"Riley's kind of in a delicate condition right now," Willow said. "Heart troubles. Had to put a chip in him. Very nasty."
"Willow!" Buffy said, dismayed that her friend was being so uncharacteristically indiscreet. "Angel and Cordelia don't want to hear about that."
"Oh, we do," Cordelia said with relish, remembering the tale Angel had told her about Buffy's new boytoy. "Is it something permanently debilitating?"
"Cordelia," Angel said warningly.
"Don't pretend you're not interested," Cordy said, wagging a finger at him.
He grabbed the finger. "Don't pretend you're not expecting to get paid this month."
"That threat would work better if I didn't do all the accounts and sort out my own pay," Cordelia told him.
"You do the accounts?" Willow said, wrinkling up her nose.
"Yes," Cordelia said, annoyed. "Top ten percent of our class, remember? If Angel was in charge of finances, he'd never do any actual charging."
"Cordy, please," Angel said tiredly, "we're in company." It was clearly an old gripe of hers.
"These," Cordelia said disdainfully, gesturing to the room in general, "are not company. Unless of course you're planning to charge them for all this."
"Of course not," he said.
"Not even gas?" she asked.
"Not even gas," he replied.
Cordy turned abruptly to Buffy, "Is this not an evil fighting thing?"
"Uh, yeah, it is," Buffy said, a little taken aback.
"And are you not in trouble?" she demanded.
"Well, I suppose I could be, if..."
"Ah!" Cordelia said triumphantly. "So you are, in a manner of speaking, helpless?"
"I suppose?" Buffy said hopelessly.
"Grounds for charging," Cordelia said, turning to Angel with satisfaction.
"Slayers don't ever really classify as helpless," Angel said.
"But-" Cordelia started.
"We are not charging for this one, Cordy," Angel said firmly.
"And *that* attitude is why we will never get heavily into profit," Cordelia said.
"I just need enough to live on," Angel muttered, running a hand through his hair.
"So do me and Wes," Cordelia retorted, "and we need more than you do."
"So do I," said a weary British accent from the door, "so can you pay me and I'll be on my way?"
"You have to give us the information first, Spike," Buffy said, standing up straight as the platinum blond sauntered slowly into the room, lighting a cigarette and taking a long drag.
"*Not* in the shop, Spike," Giles admonished uselessly.
Spike ignored him, coming to a stop in front of Angel. Buffy noticed Angel's hands clenched into fists at his sides, caught the tension that suddenly ran through his body, matched in Spike's as Angel pulled his back out of his habitual slouch, staring down into Spike's eyes, giving and getting a palpable hostility.
Willow and Cordelia both drew slightly closer to Buffy, and Giles and Wesley didn't take their eyes off the pair, as if they all felt the room come under an unbearable pressure as the vampires faced off.
Angel growled once, so low only Spike and Buffy heard it. She bit her lip and shifted uncomfortably as a very different tension ran through her body at the well-remembered sound. There was a moment when the pressure was so tight as to be almost audible; and then it lifted abruptly, Spike breaking the gaze in a slight movement that nevertheless was a complete capitulation. He stepped away from his one-time mentor and faced the rest of the room, as Giles came forward to take his report.
Buffy stared at Angel, unable to tear her gaze away. As an alpha female she wasn't usually affected by rivalry between so-called dominant males... knowing she could probably kick *either* of their asses had always taken the interest out of watching the posturing of human boys. With vampires, it was different; there was something truly wild, thoroughly tangible about vampire rivalry that spoke to the dark parts inside her.
It was real. It was dangerous.
And when Angel was involved, she found, it was a turn-on.
His eyes met hers from across the room, and though Buffy knew she should look away, his gaze was magnetic, seeming to pull the breath out of her in short pants; she licked her lips, and saw his eyes flicker down to watch the small pink tongue lave their full flesh, and she remembered how it felt for his lips to be on hers.
She was distracted by repeated pokes in the soft flesh of her bared midriff. She tried to bat the hand away, but her wrist was gripped and, disoriented, she looked down.
"Buffy," Willow was saying.
"Yeah, what?" she said irritably, annoyed that her communion with Angel had been disrupted.
"I need you out here," Willow said forcefully, dragging Buffy out by the wrist.
"Aaah!" Buffy squawked, stumbling and saving herself only with a quick application of Slayer reflexes.
Willow stopped by the counter and turned to regard her friend.
"What?" Buffy said, fidgeting. She turned around, trying to unobtrusively crane her neck to see Angel.
"Buffy!" Willow said, exasperated. She reached forward and put her hand on Buffy's forehead. "You're really warm."
"Am I?" Buffy said vaguely.
"Yes! Stop trying to look for Angel."
"I wasn't!" Buffy protested, turning quickly to face her friend, who gave her a sceptical look.
"I seriously thought you were going to jump each other in there," Willow said. "I mean, you weren't even like that when you were a couple!"
"I know!" Buffy wailed. "But I think I've had a sexual awakening since then. And some of my Sarah dreams were pretty hot."
Willow looked at Buffy for a moment more.
"You're in trouble," she said, in a voice that rang with conviction.
Buffy groaned and dropped her head onto Willow's shoulder.
* * * * *
Angel tried to smother a grin and pay attention to Giles' attempt at conversation with Spike, rather than being fixed on Buffy... he could still smell the scent of vanilla and light sweat mixed with the unique, indescribable tang that said 'Buffy', permeating the air around her. He could feel her personality stamped on the walls around him. He could still see her hazel eyes burning into his own.
And Riley Finn wasn't around for him to see how she'd no doubt similarly made her impression on him. Angel knew she wasn't his any longer, but he'd caught her reaction to him and he figured, if only from that, he had legitimate cause to pretend for a while.
"Look, they're not common, okay?" Spike's angry English tones were enough to unwillingly pull Angel from his thoughts. "It was all I could get."
"Why do you even bother?" Cordelia said, leaning against a wall. She arched one perfect eyebrow. "We could have got this stuff before we left L.A."
"Sometimes I wonder," Giles said, looking aggravatedly at Spike.
"They can't bear the thought of not having me around," Spike said sarcastically, taking out another cigarette and lighting it from the butt of the last. He didn't usually chain-smoke - not only because he couldn't afford to - but all these people, his sire among them no less, were wearing on him. If he wasn't trying to outgrow this sudden obsession with the Slayer...
"To recap," Wesley said, his gaze on Spike watchfully. It had originally taken him weeks to tolerate Angel; he wasn't going to let his soulless progeny in so easily. "Desuin demons have been considered to be the favoured assassins of the Old Ones."
Spike gave a sulky nod.
"Your sources say there isn't currently one in town," he continued. Spike nodded again. "Despite Mr. Finn having been attacked by one," Wesley said, doubt suffusing his tone.
"Thinking he saw one," Spike said, "I wouldn't put a misidentification past him."
Wesley waved away the small concern. He didn't know either Spike's sources or Riley Finn, but he instinctively chose to side with the human's story. Though given much of human behaviour, he thought, he might come to regret that decision.
"The individual apparently most pertinent has, or had, a mission to kill the strongest Slayers," Wesley finished.
"Right," Spike said. "Cough up."
"I want to check..." Wesley began, then realised that the silence behind him had become distinctly uncomfortable. He turned around, to see Buffy standing in the doorway. She looked considerably better than Willow, who was clutching the doorpost hard enough for her knuckles to be white.
"Strongest Slayers?" Buffy said calmly. "Well, at least I know I'm not going to get taken down by something Giles can't be proud of in the records."
"You're not going to get taken down," Angel said quietly, shifting on the wall; their eyes met again, without the heat of before, but rather the assured, resigned calm of old fighters. Still communion, but on a different level.
"I'll hold you to that," she said matter-of-factly. Then she turned back to Spike, all business. "It's flattering and all, but on balance I'd prefer to keep my pulse. How do I kill it?"
"Oh, yeah," Spike said, bitterly resenting Angel for having a connection to the Slayer despite willfully trying to sever it. "That's the kicker, pet. You apparently can't."
* * * * *
"Sunnydale will still be there if it takes two hours to get there instead of one," Wesley said nervously, his foot jamming on an imaginary brake pedal as Angel screamed past the car in front and swung back into their lane, ignoring the blaring horn of an oncoming car.
"Wes, I've been driving for nearly a century," Angel said calmly, not looking at the other man. "I tried some of the earliest cars when it was pretty much a case of trial and error, I have driven a wider variety of motor vehicles than you can probably name, and I have watched as cars got faster, simpler, and safer. To top off, I've spent the last year or so driving in L.A. I know what I'm doing."
"Just please keep in mind that Cordelia and I can actually die," Wesley replied dryly.
Angel shot him a brief glance, then returned his attention to the road. He eased his foot off the gas and the convertible slowed imperceptibly.
"Thank you," Wesley breathed.
"Why are you going so fast?" Cordy asked, tuning into the conversation, "I can't say I'm eager to be back in Sunnyhell."
Angel looked at her in the mirror, habitually discounting that his own reflection did not appear in it.
"Sooner we're there, the sooner we can leave," he said. Cordy raised an eyebrow at him in the mirror, letting him know that she was not convinced.
"Giles said he'd grounded her," Wesley murmured mildly. "She's in no danger, you know."
"Grounding Buffy may work in theory, Wes," Angel answered grimly, "but you were her Watcher for long enough to know that doesn't mean much in practice."
"She knows what's at stake, Angel," Wesley reassured him. "She won't be out there."
* * * * *
"I should be out there," Buffy announced, prowling the back room of the shop restlessly.
"No, Buffy," Giles said without looking up from the book he was studying.
"No, Buffy," Willow reiterated, her eyes fixed on her computer.
"But I'm the Slayer," Buffy protested futilely. "I Slay, therefore I am."
"Well, tonight Xander and Riley are slaying therefore they... are," Willow said, wrinkling her nose. "Or something."
"Just vampires," Buffy bargained hopefully. "I will avoid any and all demonic activity and look for fledglings only."
"Fledglings count as demonic," Giles said, unruffled, "and you will fight neither tonight, Buffy."
"But I feel the need to pummel," Buffy complained, feeling itchy and cooped up. She gave the dummy a half-hearted punch. It rocked and she absent-mindedly reached out to steady it.
"Spike should be here soon," Willow offered.
"But kindly leave the pummelling until *after* he has shared whatever information he's found," Giles said.
"But before we pay him?" Buffy said with a half-smile, sitting on the floor and beginning a series of frenzied stretches.
"What am I saying?" Giles muttered, "You can't pummel him at all. It's unfair."
"Just 'cause he can't hit back," Buffy mumbled, going into a spontaneous routine of fluid, skilled gymnastic movements.
"You're totally hyper tonight," Willow said, spinning her chair around to scrutinise her friend carefully. "Have you been eating dark chocolate again?"
"No," Buffy said, modifying the martial technique she was engaged in to include a casual shrug.
Willow eyed her dubiously for a few moments, then got up without warning and grabbed Buffy, ducking to miss the high snap-kick that Buffy was aiming at her own reflection.
"Come on," she said, pulling Buffy onto the darkened shop floor.
"Give a girl a chance!" Buffy complained, snagging a half-full bottle of water and shaking Willow off so she could remove the top and greedily swallow down the clear liquid.
Willow positioned Buffy firmly against the counter and took her by the shoulders.
"Is this about Angel?" she questioned, looking into Buffy's eyes.
"He should be here by now, shouldn't he," Buffy said, the words spilling from her lips, "what if he's changed his mind, do you think..."
Willow hastily grabbed the bottle away from her as Buffy's nervous, supernaturally strong fingers began to twist the plastic out of shape.
"They're just a little bit late," Willow said, cutting off Buffy's babble. "They will be here. Are you going to tell him about your fatelines?" she asked.
"I don't know," Buffy said, sighing. "I mean, he might not even care anymore. And there's Riley to think about." She looked at Willow mournfully. "I really do care about him, Will. It's not love, but... I don't want to hurt him."
"You may not," Willow offered, fully seeing it as the poor comfort it was but unable to give more.
"Maybe," Buffy said with a weak smile, "but I think we both know that it's not likely."
"I think that if you..."
"Been a magick shop for *years*," Willow was interrupted by Cordelia's authorative tones as she pushed, "but I never figured Giles for an... oh. You're here." She was plainly not delighted to see Buffy and Willow, throwing a thin smile their way. Buffy looked on with an unwilling stab in her heart as Cordy's gaze tracked immediately to Angel, watching him anxiously, caringly, almost the way she and Angel had once looked at each other. Cordelia moved, more obviously than she realised, to stand at Angel's side; Wesley also unconsciously moved to flank him.
And then Buffy looked at Angel.
Their gazes met, and he smiled at her politely; but her eyesight was the Slayer's and she read him well, and she caught the flash of heat, the flicker of a love undimmed, before his gaze shuttered, blanked, and he was an understandably awkward guy in a difficult situation. She knew he felt awkward, because he looked too big for the room around him, his tall form overpowering the surroundings; the skill to utilise that or equally hide it was something he had mastered long ago.
"Wesley did call," Angel said, directing the comment at Buffy with a tentative half-smile and a casual shrug. Cordelia, Willow and Wesley shot him slightly bewildered looks, and part of Buffy thrilled at the familiar feeling of having a connection with him, knowing that she and only she knew what was on his mind.
"And maybe if you were better on the phone, he wouldn't have had to," Cordelia said teasingly, brushing past him with an affectionate knock on the shoulder - and the feeling withered in Buffy as she was reminded that she didn't know what was on his mind anymore; hardly knew his mind at all.
"Angel, Wesley, Cordelia," Giles said in a welcoming tone, coming through from the back at the sound of new voices, "I trust you had a good journey?"
"Angel tried to splatter us on the road," Cordelia said lightly.
"There is nothing wrong with my driving," Angel protested.
Cordelia heaved a sigh. "There's nothing wrong with his driving," she said to Giles.
"Thank you," Angel said.
"It's just his car is a heap of junk," she finished as if he hadn't spoken.
"That car is a classic," Angel grumbled, "and it's okay whenever you want to get to an audition or want to go shopping or have other needs you couldn't *possibly* use the subway for."
He was obviously mimicking her and Giles hid a smile. "Would you like to come through?" he said, stepping away from the doorway to usher them through.
"Well, maybe if you paid me enough to buy my own car I wouldn't have to use yours," he heard Cordelia say behind him.
"I will never make enough to pay for the kind of car you like," Angel retorted.
"What kind of car does he have?" Willow hissed to Buffy.
"It's a big, black, convertible... well, heap of junk, kind of," Buffy whispered back.
"I heard that!" Angel said.
"It's a classic," Wesley confirmed, gallantly standing aside to allow the women to go in before him. His gaze met Giles', standing on the other side of the door, and they shared a long-suffering smile. Giles was surprised by the other (former) Watcher's manner - he had grown in confidence, it seemed, fallen into a comfortable relationship with Angel and Cordelia. Giles was surprised to find himself quite liking the man.
"Nice room," Angel said, impressed, his gaze roaming slowly around the training area.
"Gift from the gang," Buffy said, putting an arm around Willow and hugging her proudly.
"You're doing okay with the hunting?" he said, leaning on the horse and looking at her probingly, his voice becoming taut.
"Best ever," she said, ignoring the way that the mirror behind the horse showed no-one.
"Yes, she's doing very well," Giles called from where he stood quietly conferring with Wesley. "She has been lacking for a sparring partner, though. Perhaps while you're here, you could...?"
"Sure," he said, his gaze never leaving Buffy. "Doesn't Riley train with you?"
Buffy flinched at the mention of her boyfriend. Right. Boyfriend, she thought. Which Angel is not.
"Riley's kind of in a delicate condition right now," Willow said. "Heart troubles. Had to put a chip in him. Very nasty."
"Willow!" Buffy said, dismayed that her friend was being so uncharacteristically indiscreet. "Angel and Cordelia don't want to hear about that."
"Oh, we do," Cordelia said with relish, remembering the tale Angel had told her about Buffy's new boytoy. "Is it something permanently debilitating?"
"Cordelia," Angel said warningly.
"Don't pretend you're not interested," Cordy said, wagging a finger at him.
He grabbed the finger. "Don't pretend you're not expecting to get paid this month."
"That threat would work better if I didn't do all the accounts and sort out my own pay," Cordelia told him.
"You do the accounts?" Willow said, wrinkling up her nose.
"Yes," Cordelia said, annoyed. "Top ten percent of our class, remember? If Angel was in charge of finances, he'd never do any actual charging."
"Cordy, please," Angel said tiredly, "we're in company." It was clearly an old gripe of hers.
"These," Cordelia said disdainfully, gesturing to the room in general, "are not company. Unless of course you're planning to charge them for all this."
"Of course not," he said.
"Not even gas?" she asked.
"Not even gas," he replied.
Cordy turned abruptly to Buffy, "Is this not an evil fighting thing?"
"Uh, yeah, it is," Buffy said, a little taken aback.
"And are you not in trouble?" she demanded.
"Well, I suppose I could be, if..."
"Ah!" Cordelia said triumphantly. "So you are, in a manner of speaking, helpless?"
"I suppose?" Buffy said hopelessly.
"Grounds for charging," Cordelia said, turning to Angel with satisfaction.
"Slayers don't ever really classify as helpless," Angel said.
"But-" Cordelia started.
"We are not charging for this one, Cordy," Angel said firmly.
"And *that* attitude is why we will never get heavily into profit," Cordelia said.
"I just need enough to live on," Angel muttered, running a hand through his hair.
"So do me and Wes," Cordelia retorted, "and we need more than you do."
"So do I," said a weary British accent from the door, "so can you pay me and I'll be on my way?"
"You have to give us the information first, Spike," Buffy said, standing up straight as the platinum blond sauntered slowly into the room, lighting a cigarette and taking a long drag.
"*Not* in the shop, Spike," Giles admonished uselessly.
Spike ignored him, coming to a stop in front of Angel. Buffy noticed Angel's hands clenched into fists at his sides, caught the tension that suddenly ran through his body, matched in Spike's as Angel pulled his back out of his habitual slouch, staring down into Spike's eyes, giving and getting a palpable hostility.
Willow and Cordelia both drew slightly closer to Buffy, and Giles and Wesley didn't take their eyes off the pair, as if they all felt the room come under an unbearable pressure as the vampires faced off.
Angel growled once, so low only Spike and Buffy heard it. She bit her lip and shifted uncomfortably as a very different tension ran through her body at the well-remembered sound. There was a moment when the pressure was so tight as to be almost audible; and then it lifted abruptly, Spike breaking the gaze in a slight movement that nevertheless was a complete capitulation. He stepped away from his one-time mentor and faced the rest of the room, as Giles came forward to take his report.
Buffy stared at Angel, unable to tear her gaze away. As an alpha female she wasn't usually affected by rivalry between so-called dominant males... knowing she could probably kick *either* of their asses had always taken the interest out of watching the posturing of human boys. With vampires, it was different; there was something truly wild, thoroughly tangible about vampire rivalry that spoke to the dark parts inside her.
It was real. It was dangerous.
And when Angel was involved, she found, it was a turn-on.
His eyes met hers from across the room, and though Buffy knew she should look away, his gaze was magnetic, seeming to pull the breath out of her in short pants; she licked her lips, and saw his eyes flicker down to watch the small pink tongue lave their full flesh, and she remembered how it felt for his lips to be on hers.
She was distracted by repeated pokes in the soft flesh of her bared midriff. She tried to bat the hand away, but her wrist was gripped and, disoriented, she looked down.
"Buffy," Willow was saying.
"Yeah, what?" she said irritably, annoyed that her communion with Angel had been disrupted.
"I need you out here," Willow said forcefully, dragging Buffy out by the wrist.
"Aaah!" Buffy squawked, stumbling and saving herself only with a quick application of Slayer reflexes.
Willow stopped by the counter and turned to regard her friend.
"What?" Buffy said, fidgeting. She turned around, trying to unobtrusively crane her neck to see Angel.
"Buffy!" Willow said, exasperated. She reached forward and put her hand on Buffy's forehead. "You're really warm."
"Am I?" Buffy said vaguely.
"Yes! Stop trying to look for Angel."
"I wasn't!" Buffy protested, turning quickly to face her friend, who gave her a sceptical look.
"I seriously thought you were going to jump each other in there," Willow said. "I mean, you weren't even like that when you were a couple!"
"I know!" Buffy wailed. "But I think I've had a sexual awakening since then. And some of my Sarah dreams were pretty hot."
Willow looked at Buffy for a moment more.
"You're in trouble," she said, in a voice that rang with conviction.
Buffy groaned and dropped her head onto Willow's shoulder.
* * * * *
Angel tried to smother a grin and pay attention to Giles' attempt at conversation with Spike, rather than being fixed on Buffy... he could still smell the scent of vanilla and light sweat mixed with the unique, indescribable tang that said 'Buffy', permeating the air around her. He could feel her personality stamped on the walls around him. He could still see her hazel eyes burning into his own.
And Riley Finn wasn't around for him to see how she'd no doubt similarly made her impression on him. Angel knew she wasn't his any longer, but he'd caught her reaction to him and he figured, if only from that, he had legitimate cause to pretend for a while.
"Look, they're not common, okay?" Spike's angry English tones were enough to unwillingly pull Angel from his thoughts. "It was all I could get."
"Why do you even bother?" Cordelia said, leaning against a wall. She arched one perfect eyebrow. "We could have got this stuff before we left L.A."
"Sometimes I wonder," Giles said, looking aggravatedly at Spike.
"They can't bear the thought of not having me around," Spike said sarcastically, taking out another cigarette and lighting it from the butt of the last. He didn't usually chain-smoke - not only because he couldn't afford to - but all these people, his sire among them no less, were wearing on him. If he wasn't trying to outgrow this sudden obsession with the Slayer...
"To recap," Wesley said, his gaze on Spike watchfully. It had originally taken him weeks to tolerate Angel; he wasn't going to let his soulless progeny in so easily. "Desuin demons have been considered to be the favoured assassins of the Old Ones."
Spike gave a sulky nod.
"Your sources say there isn't currently one in town," he continued. Spike nodded again. "Despite Mr. Finn having been attacked by one," Wesley said, doubt suffusing his tone.
"Thinking he saw one," Spike said, "I wouldn't put a misidentification past him."
Wesley waved away the small concern. He didn't know either Spike's sources or Riley Finn, but he instinctively chose to side with the human's story. Though given much of human behaviour, he thought, he might come to regret that decision.
"The individual apparently most pertinent has, or had, a mission to kill the strongest Slayers," Wesley finished.
"Right," Spike said. "Cough up."
"I want to check..." Wesley began, then realised that the silence behind him had become distinctly uncomfortable. He turned around, to see Buffy standing in the doorway. She looked considerably better than Willow, who was clutching the doorpost hard enough for her knuckles to be white.
"Strongest Slayers?" Buffy said calmly. "Well, at least I know I'm not going to get taken down by something Giles can't be proud of in the records."
"You're not going to get taken down," Angel said quietly, shifting on the wall; their eyes met again, without the heat of before, but rather the assured, resigned calm of old fighters. Still communion, but on a different level.
"I'll hold you to that," she said matter-of-factly. Then she turned back to Spike, all business. "It's flattering and all, but on balance I'd prefer to keep my pulse. How do I kill it?"
"Oh, yeah," Spike said, bitterly resenting Angel for having a connection to the Slayer despite willfully trying to sever it. "That's the kicker, pet. You apparently can't."
* * * * *