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-One - The Lone Ranger
Hay's Marina was down by the docks, and at this time of night would be pretty much deserted. Wesley walked slowly down the drive, keeping a look out for any signs of trouble. He found the warehouse Lilah had named, a large red escarpment declaring "Worth Industries". He glanced at his watch - half an hour since leaving the Wolfram & Hart building. Not long enough. As Wesley had said to Angel, he wasn't a fool: calling whoever was guarding Faith was probably the first thing Lilah had done, and he found himself wishing that he had knocked her senseless. Rummaging through his jacket pocket, he pulled out his mobile, squinted at it, then redialled Gunn's number. Wesley wasn't a coward by any means, but he wasn't keen to go charging into that warehouse alone. But there was no answer - again. He grimaced, and considered calling the Hyperion, then decided against it.
He waited, skulking in the shadows, letting enough time to pass for whoever was in there to drop their guard. After what seemed to be about most of the night (though, on further inspection of his watch, only about forty minutes has passed), Wesley emerged from the darkness, and made his way cautiously to the warehouse entrance. There were no lights apparent, and he slipped inside, careful to make no more noise than necessary. He froze as someone passed by him, footsteps ringing out against the concrete floor. Then a door opened and closed and there was silence again. Wesley moved towards the door, and eased it open. Light spilled through the doorway, and Wesley looked into the back room. There were three men. One sat on a stool a few yards from a further door, one with a metal handle. He was cleaning a gun slowly, methodically. Of the other two, one was talking on his phone, from the sound of it, to his wife or girlfriend. Or his mother, Wesley thought wryly, a ghost of a smile playing across his lips as the hired thug uttered a strangled "Mom!" The other was propped up against the far wall, cigarette in hand. As he watched them, there was a series of muffled thuds from behind the other door, and the man on the stool looked up from his gun.
"She's a feisty little thing, isn't she?" he observed to no-one in particular.
"She's hot," opined the cigarette smoker. "Think we'll get to play?" The other man laughed, and twirled his gun around, as a schoolboy would, trying to be a cowboy.
"Hey, I'm always ready for a few games. And I don't reckon anyone's going to object if we…take a sample." Wesley's blood boiled at the man's crude words, and he clenched his hands, too well aware, even in his fury, that to leap out now would probably just end in his getting shot. He backed away, almost trembling with rage. At least from what they said it was unlikely that they'd touched Faith, but he had to get her out of there.
He quickly left the warehouse, and ran softly round to the back. A series of windows, with grilles across, were lit, and he could hear the murmur of the men's voices. Further along there were no more windows, but he could hear the hum of a generator and then there was a vent blowing out warm air into the Los Angeles night. A temperature controlled room, then. Probably one of those refrigerated deals. Wesley swore under his breath. There was no telling how long Faith might have been in there. Then he corrected himself. Angel had only gone AWOL earlier that day. It would have taken time for Wolfram & Hart to find out, and to track down Faith. She would be all right.
She had to be.