YELLOW BRICK ROAD

By: Lisette (lisette@chaletian.co.uk)

Rating: PG-13 so far - might change later on.

Distribution: Want, take, have. Just e-mail me first.

Summary: Faith is released from prison - but there's a catch.

Feedback: God, please.

Angel, Buffy, the whole lot, belong to JW, Mutant Enemy, and anyone else who officially owns them. I don't. Big surprise.

Okay, a few notes. Firstly, I haven't seen any of season 3 yet, though I know vaguely what happens. So, definitely after "Billy", and Fred and Gunn are getting with the happy, but "WITW" never happened.

Please, please review - I need to know what people think! I have a fragile ego and it needs bolstering! Thanks to everyone who has already reviewed - you have made me a happy person!

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Chapter Thirty - The Best Laid Plans of Mice and Lawyers...

Lilah Morgan was pissed off. Angel was alive after all, she had made a major error of judgement regarding Faith, and Gavin Parks was continuing to rear his okay-not-so-ugly-after-all head. In fact, the only thing that kept her from being royally pissed off was that Gavin's cunning plan to endanger her cunning plan had turned out to be not so cunning after all, a fact she intended to point out to him with no small amount of satisfaction. But that didn't lessen the blow of Faith's betrayal. Lilah's mouth curved into a smile. Putting Faith in a meat locker in order to give her time to really contemplate her approaching gruesome death, now that lessened that blow.

However, the fact remained that Angel was alive and kicking. Well, technically, dead, but still very much kicking. Faith would be the bait - there was clearly something between vampire and slayer, and Lilah was betting that Angel would be over post haste to find out where the girl was. And then… Lilah smiled again, a smile of victory; one that didn't lessen as she entered her office to find a tall figure lurking in the shadows.

"Angel, Angel, you are so predictable," she purred, crossing to her desk. With a quick flick of her wrist she flung the glass of water sitting next to her blotter in the direction of the vampire's head, then reached into her top drawer for the stake she kept there. If hiring assassins wasn't going to work, then Lilah was determined to make sure it happened herself. As her mother had always said, if you want something doing, do it yourself. Unfortunately, it didn't work quite as she planned, for instead of reacting to the burning, face-melting pain, Angel leaped forward, and before she knew where she was, Lilah was awkwardly positioned, a harsh hand on the back of her neck keeping her face pressed against the desk. Then he spoke, and she realised she'd made yet another serious error of judgement.

"As are you, Lilah." It wasn't the dark broody voice of the vampire. This was lighter, more precise. English. She would have said his name, calmly, coolly, putting the ball back in her court. Unfortunately, she was afraid anything she said would come out half-choked, and she remained silent. She tried to lift her head, but the hand, surprisingly strong, gripped more firmly, and held her down.

"Where is she, Lilah?" The voice came again, and she registered the anger and suppressed violence in it. She said nothing, and the hand clenched tighter around her neck, so that breathing became something of an issue. She reassessed the situation. Anger and unsuppressed violence. Not a good combination. There were no security cameras in her office. The Englishman was as human as she, so he wouldn't have set off any alarms, and he wasn't a familiar face to Wolfram & Hart: their main experiences of being broken into by Angel Investigations involved Angel. So, the cavalry wasn't on its way. The man holding her down was something of an unknown quantity, but she wasn't about to bet her life on the fact that he wouldn't seriously hurt her. She choked something out, and felt the pressure ease.

"A warehouse - down on Hay's Marina. There's a big red sign out front." The pressure tightened once more, and Lilah felt her oxygen supply being cut off. Spots were swimming in front of her eyes, then suddenly she was free. She slipped down onto her knees, massaging her throat. After a moment, she sat in her chair, and reached for her phone.

"Lilah Morgan here. A Mr Wyndham-Pryce is headed your way. Feel free to deal with him as you see fit."