"And we're indulging our inner Felix because? What's the matter, Angel; the lack of leather upholstery getting you down?"
Angel stared blankly at the sofa cushion in his hand. A moment ago he'd been happily, if speedily, cleaning up the lobby in preparation for his guest...guests. Then Cordelia had breezed through the glass doors and he froze like a guilty child with his hand in the cookie jar.
Or, in his case, on the Dustbuster.
"It, uh, just seemed a little dusty; that's all."
Angel quickly stuffed the cushion back into place, keeping his face carefully hidden from Cordelia as he steeled himself for the battle at hand. He had to strike fast, and hard, and then get the hell out of here before she worked up a good head of steam. Otherwise he might say some things he would regret.
"Yeah, well, it's always been a little dusty, but I've never seen you care before." Cordelia sauntered through the lobby, her brown eyes fixed on Angel's averted head. "Wait, no, I'm wrong. You did care. But said caring usually meant complaining to me about it, like because I'm the token girl I come complete with an anti-dirt hormone or something."
Angel straightened up and turned around to face her, his pride hurt by her accusation.
"I never said you were supposed to do the cleaning up because you're the girl, Cordy. But you have to admit, you're usually the one who makes the mess." He started to say more, and then cut himself off with a frustrated wave of his hand. "Look, this has nothing to do with whose turn it is to dust. I'm expecting a guest. Guests actually."
Given the atmosphere around the Hyperion lately, he was expecting an explosion, or at least a scowl; he got a puzzled frown instead.
"So now we're going into the hotel business?" One eyebrow arched in query. "I mean I know this was a hotel and all, but don't you think all the demon traffic would be a little tough to explain to the guests? Or were you planning on renting to demons exclusively?"
"I'm not renting out rooms," he said patiently. "I said guests, not customers. Buffy is coming here for a few days. And Dawn," he added hastily. "And maybe Giles and some of the others; I don't really know."
"Buffy," Cordelia said flatly.
"Yes, Buffy. And Dawn, and whoever else she wants to bring. You said it yourself; this is a hotel. We have the room." He paused for a moment, debating the wisdom of his next argument, and then plunged ahead. "No, make that: I have the room. Wesley may run the business now, but this is still my home."
"So now you're going to kick us out again, because Buffy and her little friends are visiting?"
Cordelia's voice was sharp, almost as sharp as the fear that flared back to life within her. They were doing so well; it was almost like old times again. They were this close to being one big happy family.
Naturally, Angel just had to sabotage it.
"No, I don't want any of you to leave," Angel said soothingly. He had heard the abandoned child beneath her acid tones, and it sent his guilty conscience into customary overdrive. "We're all friends...more or less. But I want Buffy to be comfortable here...I mean I want everybody to be comfortable. So could you please go easy on her...them?"
"You mean like she will on me?"
"She's not here to fight, Cordy. She's had a rough few months and she just needs a little break. So does Dawn."
"And what about the rest of the BrainDead Trust? Why is she packing an entourage?" Cordelia lightly slapped her palm against her cheek. "Oh, that's right; gosh, how could I have forgotten? Spanky doesn't do anything without Our Gang, does she?"
"She's, umm, in some trouble," he answered vaguely.
Best not to go into specifics about angry hellgods until the bags were unpacked and the houseguests firmly established.
"And you know Buffy," he sped on, not giving Cordelia time to ask for specifics. "She doesn't want to make the others do her job for her while she's away."
Cordelia snorted. "Since when? Don't you remember the summer from hell that...oh, no...real hell...you probably don't."
Somewhat abashed by her inadvertent reminder of the bad old days, she continued in a quieter tone.
"Angel, I just don't think that now is the right time to be bringing Buffy and the Lame-ettes into our little circle. We're still trying to figure out the new ground rules. Having Buffy around will just confuse things." She threw up her hands, and threw out her tact. "Strike that; she'll confuse you. She'll get you all wrapped up in whatever problem she's having, and you won't be able to think about anything, or anyone, else."
Angel could hear the plea in her words, even if it was phrased more as a lecture, and he knew in a way she was right. The peace between he and his friends was still very fragile, and the weight of Buffy's problems might be enough to break it. But knowing this, and allowing it to change his mind, were two very different things.
"Cordelia, I'm sorry." He was even sorrier when his quick apology brought a relieved smile to her face, a smile he knew his next words would wipe out like water on a flame. "Buffy and the others should be here soon, so I'll understand if you want to leave now. I hope you don't," he added quickly, "but it's your choice. I've already made mine."
She scowled at him, correctly reading in his dark eyes the measure of his commitment. Buffy would stay, whether Cordelia did or not, and any further attempts to force a choice of new life versus old would not end well for the home team. He was just going to have to learn this one for himself, all over again. And when the Slayer inevitably walked away into her "normal life's" sunset, the team of Angel Investigations would be there, as always, to pick up the remaining pieces of vampire heart from the lanai.
"Oh, I'll stay," she said grudgingly. "If only to say 'I told you so.' Shall we start a pool on how many languages I'll get to say it in?"
He smiled half-heartedly as he pictured the next few stormy days ahead. "Good, now that that's settled...can you take over vacuuming the cushions so I can clean out the fridge?"
"Men," she scoffed, holding out her hand for the DustBuster. "So completely helpless when it comes to housework." She gazed uncertainly down at the small appliance now dangling from her fingers. "Does this thing have an 'ON' switch, or do I just put it down and it starts sucking? You know, kind of like my life."
* * * * *
Buffy brought the car to a relatively smooth stop and switched it off with a tiny sigh that only Willow, sitting in the seat next to her, could hear. She checked the rearview mirror to make sure Xander's car was waiting by the gates before she called over her shoulder to her younger sister.
"Here we are, Dawnie. Try not to be too long."
"Aren't you coming in with me?" Dawn looked confused as she leaned over the back of the seat. "I can't just walk in there by myself and tell him."
Buffy shrugged, not understanding the problem. "Why not? You're the one who thought Spike needed a head's up, so go give it to him. Why do I need to be there?"
"Because he won't believe me," Dawn insisted. "He'll think it's some sort of trick or something." Her eyes narrowed as she gave voice to a more deep-rooted belief. "Or are you scared to face him?"
"And again with the 'why'?" Buffy drawled. "I just don't feel like dealing with the annoyingness that is Spike on next-to-no sleep. Or lots of sleep, for that matter. You're the one who's all concerned; go be Paul Revere so we can get on the road. It's getting late."
Late because of Willow's need to bring every spell book and magic potion in her possession; late because of Tara's need to pack textbook after textbook to keep up with the few classes they would be missing; late because of Giles' need to call every member of the Watcher's Council he was still speaking to in order to get the most up-to-date skinny on Glory; late because of Anya's need to count the money in the till...three times...before she locked it in the safe; late because of Xander's need to give his rattletrap of a car a thorough check-up before subjecting it to a drive of more than 15 minutes.
Late, in short, to fulfill everyone's needs but her own, since her need was to not be late.
Now Dawn, from what Buffy could see, was in on the whole lateness conspiracy. Instead of opening her door, the younger girl sat back in her seat and crossed her arms defiantly. "I'm not going in; not by myself."
"Fine. Then don't." Buffy turned the key in the ignition, bringing the engine to life once more.
"Buffy!" Dawn all but howled.
"Buffy, just go in with her," Willow pleaded. "It'll only take a few minutes, and it means a lot to Dawn."
"I could go," Tara offered hesitantly, "if you think it would help." She smiled at Dawn as she placed an affectionate arm around the younger girl's shoulders. "Maybe if two of us told him...and people say I have an honest face..."
"No; that's okay Tara. I'll go." Buffy scowled in the rearview mirror at her little sister, whose pout had turned to a grin of triumph. "But we're going to make this fast, and we are not, I repeat NOT, going to offer to let him come along. Angel has enough to deal with without a Spike infestation."
Dawn slipped out of the car without bothering to answer, and cut across the grass to the opening of Spike's crypt. Buffy made her way along the cemetery path at a slower pace, eventually reaching the marble steps in time to hear a muffled, and accented, oath drift out into the morning air.
"Spike," she snapped as she walked down the steps, "how many times have I told you not to swear in front of Dawn?"
"About as many times as you've said slayers don't run from trouble; they live for it," he growled in return. "Don't see you keeping your word, so why should I?"
"I'm not running from anything. My leaving...our leaving...has nothing to do with Glory or hellmouths or anything. It's personal."
She looked away, uncertain of how much of her plans Dawn had revealed. If Spike didn't know where they were headed, all the better. He might just get the idea to follow them, and that would be...she didn't even want to think about it. Spike and Angel, all the bad history between them before she knew either of them, and now both of them in lo...interested in the same woman?
'Ouch' didn't begin to cover it.
"Of course it's personal," he sneered. "It always is with your dark prince. Well let me tell you something, sunshine; he's not exactly..."
"Dawn," Buffy said quickly, "could you leave us alone for a minute. I think Spike and I have some things to talk about after all, and the words may be a little more advance than you need to know just yet...or ever."
Dawn glanced fearfully from Spike to Buffy. "You won't stake him, will you?"
"I won't do anything Spike hasn't been asking for," Buffy replied evenly.
"Seems my day's starting to pick up after all," the vampire drawled, leaning against a sarcophagus.
Buffy waited until Dawn was safely out of the crypt before she returned her attention to her troublesome companion.
"Look Spike," she said coolly, "it was Dawn's idea that we come here today, not mine. I actually don't think you're in any danger from Glory unless you provoke her...and it's not my fault that your very personality tends to annoy people to the point of violence."
"Sure, it was all the little bit's doing. Keep telling yourself that, slayer, and maybe you'll convince yourself; you always were pretty gullible." He swiped the back of one hand across his T-shirt, pretending to admire the shine on his black-painted fingernails. "I know you better than that, luv. I know you better than you'll ever let yourself."
Buffy nodded as she spared him a sour smile. "Yeah, I could tell how well you knew me by how realistic that BuffyBot was."
"She didn't come out right!" His chin shot up and his blue eyes blazed as he defended himself. "The bloody boy genius got things all bollixed up and she came out...different."
"Don't pretend you didn't like it, Spike." Buffy's smile softened as her tone became almost a purr. She moved slowly, seductively, down the mausoleum steps towards the vampire. "All that 'Spike is my hero' talk...and the tiny frou-frou skirts...and the knowledge that she was just a little doll you could make do anything you want...she was your dream slayer."
"She was a sight easier to get along with than you; I'll say that much," he snarled, turning his head away. Buffy was getting dangerously close; the inexplicable slayer vibes she exuded were scrambling his senses. Or maybe it was just that damn perfume she was wearing.
She stopped moving a scant half-foot away from him. The cold radiating from his undead body chilled her almost as much as the emptiness she found in his eyes. The eyes were supposed to be the windows to the soul, but in a vampire, however human he could pretend to be, she could see nothing but a fathomless pit.
The day she could see something more...that was the day she'd be trading in her stake in for a slab of granite. Of that she had no doubt.
"I'll bet she was, Spike. She was grateful for every speck of attention you gave her, and when you got bored you could just shut her in the closet. You forget; I know your taste in women."
His mouth twisted into a grimace, remembering 'his' women. "Sure, you try shutting Harmony in a closet; see what that gets you."
"Harmony needs attention more than she needs air, dead or alive," Buffy retorted. "As long as you could fake that, she could have cared less about what you really thought."
"And do you care so much, ducks?" He tipped his head to the side and down, gazing flirtatiously at her through his lashes. "Way you've been talking, I would have thought you'd say no."
Her hands clenched into fists; somehow Spike had a way of shining a spotlight on the smallest, darkest corners of her soul. Angel could do that too, but the love that guided his words removed much of the shame from the exposure.
With Spike, shame was the whole point.
"I don't care what you think," she ground out, trying to force her tight muscles to relax. "I care that you made me look like a Stepford Slayer in front of my friends. I care that you took my entire relationship with Riley and turned it into your own interactive computer game."
"Riley?" He quirked an eyebrow at her, genuinely puzzled by her words. "Is that who you thought I wanted you to treat me like? The overgrown Boy Scout you played house with?"
A grim smile flitted across her face; point scored.
"I know who you really want to be, Spike," she whispered, leaning in so close she ruffled his hair with her breath. "Who you've always wanted to be. But I'm not so desperate for attention that I'd waste even sloppy seconds on you. And if I ever do get that needy...just bite me." She flicked her fingernail lightly across his lower lip. "Or hire somebody who can get his teeth up to do it for you."
Spike's eyes narrowed; that one stung. Had she no shame, to kick a man when he was down? He jerked his head back, away from the heat and the life that she exuded, and took refuge in a low blow of his own.
"So that's what scratches the itch now, is it? Taking a tip from the ex, I guess. Or should I say both ex's?"
Buffy's hand automatically flew up to cover the scar left by Angel's bite, and then her temper surged when she realized Spike had scored a point of his own. She was silent for a moment, forcing down her instinctive retort. Spike would be amused more than anything by her defense of Angel, and it wasn't as though she had need to justify anything to the vampire. She had done nothing to be ashamed of.
Unlike some people.
"Do you remember Billy Fordham?" she asked, seemingly from out of the blue.
A step backwards allowed her to lean against a pillar, her arms loosely crossed, suddenly the image of calm as she awaited his response.
"Billy who?"
Spike stared at her as though she had sprouted a second head. Was he supposed to remember every silly schoolboy that crossed her path? Surely no demon of his acquaintance went by the intimidating nickname of 'Billy.'
"My friend; Billy Fordham. 'Ford' was what he liked to be called, when he was still alive to be called anything." She tapped her foot, and frowned slightly, as though disappointed by his memory lapse. "You killed him."
Uh-oh, Spike thought. He scrambled for a suitable reply, one that wouldn't anger her and ruin the softer feelings he'd been trying to encourage in her.
"Well, you know pet, that did sort of used to be my, well, bread-and-butter, to put it plainly. I mean I was...I am...a vampire." He grinned wolfishly. "It's part of my charm."
Buffy turned away and began to wander around the crypt, running one outstretched hand over the carved stonework as she rambled.
"He wanted to be a vampire too," she explained quietly. "He wanted eternal life...because the warranty on his mortal one was running out. He was even willing to trade my life to get you to turn him."
Spike scratched his head and tried to remember.
"Was he a dark bloke...kind of tall?" He tapped the side of his head. "Funny ears?" He didn't wait for her to answer; suddenly the pieces began to fall into place. "I remember him now. Cheeky sort of fellow; had a very high opinion of himself. Of course, thinking back on the company he was keeping...yeah, he probably was the bright light of those dim bulbs."
She felt a flash of annoyance, remembering lonely Lily and her thwarted attempts to find acceptance. But Buffy suppressed the urge to immediately put Spike in his place. Instead, she only nodded as she turned to face him.
"That was him. I left him with you, knowing he wanted to be turned, knowing he was going to die soon anyway...the same way my mom could have died, actually." She looked away for an instant; until this moment she had never processed the similarities between her mother's illness and that of her childhood crush. "I left him after he tried to kill me to get that death wish of his...and I still feel guilty about his death. I think a part of me always will."
She tilted her head, a stray beam of light from the doorway highlighting the curious expression on her face.
"What do you feel, Spike?"
In the ensuing silence, she turned on the heel of her boot and sailed out, obscurely grateful that Dawn had insisted on this stop, and on her presence. Some things a girl had to do for herself.
* * * * *
There lies approximately one hundred miles of prime California real estate between the small city of Sunnydale and the sprawling urban jungle of Los Angeles. By car, the trip takes roughly two hours, given current state speed limits and optimal driving conditions.
And given that the driver of the car in question isn't required to stop at a cemetery, a fraternity house, six highway rest stops and one roadside diner to suit the needs and/or whims of one sulky teenager, two navigationally challenged witches, one hyperactive construction worker, one bored ex-vengeance demon and one uneasy Watcher trapped in the car with the construction worker and the ex-vengeance demon.
Then the trip takes just a little bit longer.
* * * * *
The Sunnydale crowd was momentarily struck speechless when they finally wandered into the Hyperion lobby that afternoon. Even Xander, normally never at a loss for words, could only manage a low whistle.
"I must agree; this is quite impressive," Giles murmured, taking in the expanse of marble and velvet with an appreciative eye. "I had no idea Angel could afford so lavish a home."
"Kind of makes you sorry you disapproved of him, doesn't it Giles?" Dawn grinned at the Watcher. "Lots of money, eternally good looks, owns his own business...I guess he's a pretty good catch for Buffy after all."
"Money had nothing to do with..." Giles started to protest. He caught the flash of hurt in Buffy's eyes and changed direction. "Do be serious, Dawn. I'm just glad there appears to be sufficient room for all the different...personalities...that will be here over the next few days." He glanced uneasily at Xander, who appeared not to take the hint.
"Personalities? That's one way of putting it, Giles." Xander wandered further into the otherwise deserted lobby, peering around the columns to take in the furthest recesses of the room. "Yeah, I'd say this place was big enough to house Angel and his demon houseguest, along with the three faces of Cordelia." He paused, rocking back on his heels. "Yup, perfect home of the big brooding evil."
Willow frowned, a phantom memory teasing at the back of her mind. "Hey, isn't that supposed to be the 'big brewing..."
"Evil? He's evil again?" Anya scurried down the steps and ran to Xander for protection. From the shelter of his arms, she appealed to Buffy, "But I thought you two just talked...did you have phone sex? Is that what made him evil?"
"Anya!" Xander yelped, pushing her away. "Not in front of the k-i-d." He tilted his head and jerked his chin in Dawn's direction.
"Who's calling who a 'k-i-d'?" Dawn asked archly. "I know about phone sex. My health teacher says that's the safest kind of sex there is."
"Well obviously that depends on who's having it," Anya insisted.
"And what do you mean your health teacher told you about phone sex?" Buffy's eyes widened in horror. "Oh god, this isn't one of those times where I'm supposed to do some weird active parenting thing and...please...just tell me it's not that," she moaned, burying her face in her hands.
"Look, I like to talk about sex as much as the next person who's not having any at the moment," Anya snapped, "but can we focus on something more important, like possible imminent death? Is Angel evil or not, Buffy?"
"Why don't you let me answer that?" Angel said as he came down the stairs.
Buffy lifted her head at the sound of his soft, steady voice. She had rarely felt the need for a champion to ride to her rescue, but there were times that Xander and Anya's 'conversations' made her want to cover her ears and hum the 1812 Overture, complete with simulated cannon fire, until they stopped. The man approaching her, however, was a much better distraction.
"Angel," she said, an involuntary smile sweeping over her face.
It still amazed her, that breathless feeling she got whenever she saw him walking towards her. Suddenly every word was knocked clean out of her brain except for one, and she wasn't even sure if she was using it as his name or just a description.
"Buffy," Angel answered softly, speaking volumes more with his eyes than he would ever be able to put into words.
Every time he saw her, he couldn't help but remember the first time he laid eyes on her; a schoolgirl then, with a lollipop in her hand and a terrifying innocence glowing on her smiling face. Even now, years later, when he could barely see the tattered remnants of that innocence in her tired hazel eyes, Angel still remembered that young girl who had offered him redemption before they even exchanged words.
He smiled at her, shutting out everything but the sight of her beautiful face for one long moment, before he collected himself and acknowledged the presence of the others.
"No, Angel's not evil this week," he said with a nod to Anya, "or last week, for that matter. Feel better now?"
"What about next week? Xander, why didn't he mention next week?" Anya turned back to Angel before Xander could reply. "You are planning on sleeping alone, aren't you? Because we already have to deal with an evil hellgod and I really don't think..."
"That we need to be going into this right now, An," Xander finished for her, covering her mouth with his hand.
"Not in front of the k-i-d, remember?" Dawn skipped down the front steps and flew across the lobby to Angel, flinging her arms around the surprised vampire. "I'm really glad to see you, Angel," she enthused, burrowing her face in his broad chest. "And not just because I got out of my history test."
Buffy stared at her in dismay. "You had a history test today? You didn't tell me you'd be missing a test."
She told herself it was the missed exam that had her upset, not the freedom Dawn exhibited around Angel. Buffy could have hugged Angel by now if she'd wanted to, she just didn't think it was appropriate.
And there was also the part about letting go of him; she was pretty sure that would be required, and she wasn't positive her body would obey once Angel was wrapped around it. But her annoyance was really, truly about Dawn's history test; of that she was absolutely positive.
The miscreant in question, of course, was the picture of injured innocence. "You knew about the test, Buffy; that's why you made me go back to bed last night. Or was that because you wanted to talk to Riley alone?"
Buffy carefully avoided Angel's eyes; she wasn't prepared to deal with the hurt she knew she would find there. Not yet, at least, and definitely not in public.
"Dawn that's not...that had nothing to do with...I mean that has nothing to do with you not reminding me about your test. We could have started out after you took it." She grimaced. "It's not like we didn't have the time for it, what with all the other delays."
Dawn took pity on her older sister, so obviously twisting in the wind. "But you were really looking forward to seeing Angel again, and I didn't want to be the one who slowed things down." She glanced up at Angel, giving him a half-smile of encouragement. "You guys figure out enough ways to gum up the works without my help."
Angel was the one to look away this time, processing the news of Riley's return, and what plans of Buffy's he had "gummed up" by his sudden invitation.
"You know, I'm kind of tired," Tara said suddenly from the doorway. She cleared her throat and flushed as everyone turned to look at her. "I don't mean to complain or anything; I just thought...well, maybe we could find some place to sit...or maybe go to our rooms?"
Willow beamed at her girlfriend, sensing Tara's true purpose had more to do with offering time and space to the estranged lovers than any form of exhaustion. Still, it seemed best to work with the proffered plan.
"Tara's right; she's had a rough few days," the witch chimed in swiftly. "I think she needs to rest. I think we all do."
Xander glanced at his watch, shook it, and looked at it again. "Umm, Will, it's like two o'clock. I, for one, think I could skip nap time just this once...you know, since I dozed off in the car and all while I was driving."
"Mmm, but who says we have to sleep?" Anya purred, slipping her arms around his waist and snuggling into his side once more. "Buffy's phone call woke me out of a really sexy dream this morning...and she didn't leave me any time to tell you about it...or show you."
"And on that note," Giles said swiftly, "I vote we adjourn to our mercifully separate quarters." He flushed, realizing how censorious his words might sound. "That is to say, I would prefer separate quarters from the rest of you, but of course the remainder of the sleeping arrangements...or perhaps I should say 'accommodations'...are entirely up to you. All of you. As individuals. As adult individuals."
"As responsible adult individuals," Xander said flatly, looking pointedly at Angel.
The vampire met his gaze evenly, refusing to rise to the bait.
"I have rooms ready for everybody," Angel said instead. "I wasn't sure who'd be coming along, so I just cleaned out a bunch of them and you can decide who sleeps where."
With firm resolve he pushed away the thought of where she...they...might have been sleeping if they hadn't come here...if she'd stayed in Sunnydale. She...they...did come to LA; that was what mattered.
"Sure, you cleaned out a bunch of them," Cordelia protested, making her entrance from the tops of the stairs. "Never mind the buckets of water I carried from the bathrooms...the dust bunnies I got up my nose, thereby making it all red two days before I have an important audition for something not of the cold pill genre..."
"Did she say 'bunnies'?" Anya whimpered, her eyes wide with alarm. She clutched Xander tighter as her head swiveled to examine the distant corners of the room. "She's just trying to scare me, right? Because I sleep with you and she never got the chance to?"
"As if I wanted to," Cordelia scoffed. She stomped down the stairs, sweeping past Angel even as he tried to reach out and hold her back. "And for your information," she declared, coming to rest in front of Anya, "he was begging me to but I refused."
"I never begged," Xander protested. "And the only reason you refused was because..." Belatedly, Xander remembered he and his ex were anything but alone on this stroll down Memory Lane. "You know," he said quickly, "I'm thinking a nap sounds like a good idea after all. A nice quiet nap, with no old ghosts interrupting it."
"I can't promise that," Angel said. He brushed close to Buffy as he went to retrieve some of the bags from the front steps, and he could almost feel the collision of their thinly controlled emotions, but he fought to keep his voice even as he spoke. "This is an old hotel, and it's seen its share of tragedy. We got rid of one demon before we moved in, but I can't guarantee there aren't more."
"Hey, we come from the land of the happy hellmouth." Xander grabbed his bag and Anya's from Angel's outstretched hands. "It takes a lot more than a ghost or two to faze us."
"Then have I got a demon for you," said a new voice from the door.
* * * * *
"What are you doing here? Did something happen at Caritas?"
Angel watched his demon friend with some concern, noting the furtive glances the Host cast over his shoulder as he quickly moved past the luggage and down the steps.
"You guys are in the demon-hunting biz again, and I have some biz for you." The Host suddenly noticed the assembled Scoobies. "Unless you're already working on something for these lovely people, in which case I'll just go and lay down my life for my adopted city, since I'm the only one who has time to, and..."
"Stop," Angel commanded, holding up a hand to stem the torrent of reverse psychology. "These are friends, not clients. And I kind of doubt there will be any life laying down in your immediate future...especially if you just tell me what's wrong."
"I told you; I have a demon that needs killing. By you or me or someone. Anyone. He can't stay here; that's all."
Buffy eyed the strange green creature warily. She wasn't sure what kind of demon he was, but neither Angel nor Cordelia seemed alarmed by his presence. Confused definitely, but not alarmed.
"You say he; are you sure it's a he? I mean do you know what it is?" She stood next to Angel, ready to help fight the demon on the doorstep or the demon yet to be named, whichever he saw fit.
The Host glanced from Buffy to Angel and then back to Buffy. A slow smile broke out over his face as a suspicion began to form.
"Say, sweetie, could you hum a few bars for me? No need for a Broadway medley, you understand; just a note here and a note there to open up the blinders."
"Excuse me?" Buffy's eyebrow slid upwards as she shot an uneasy look at Angel. "Did he say I should sing? Does he know how I sing?"
"No," Cordelia sighed, joining them at the doorway. "But he's survived Angel's singing, so we figure he's got cast iron eardrums."
"You sing?" Xander couldn't help his snicker, not that he really tried. "Angel the singing vampire? Oh Cordy, how could you let that tasty little bit of gossip stay at home?"
"This is the Host," Angel said, forcing each word past his slowly grinding teeth. "He's an anagogic demon, which means he can read souls."
"When they sing," the Host added quickly. "But even in the silence, I'm getting the strangest feeling we've met before, my little blonde dumpling. If you could just sing a bar or two to..."
"Dumpling?" Buffy squeaked, glancing down at her slight frame with some alarm.
"Oh please," Cordelia groaned. "Gorge yourself on another lettuce leaf and relax, Ally." She turned to the Host, tapping her foot impatiently as she waited for the rest of the world to get up to speed. "It's her, okay; Angel's good-bye girl. I'm sure he's told you all about her, whether he meant to or not, so can we spare ourselves 'Buffy: Live In Concert' and just move on to the new demon in town?"
Angel looked back at the strangely large group of people gathered in his home. Normally this many people in the lobby meant some of them weren't actually people, and most of them weren't friendly.
Well, he consoled himself, at least he was safe on the first score.
"Umm, Cordelia, why don't you show everyone to their rooms while I find out about this new threat to humanity." He nodded at Dawn. "There's no reason to bother everybody about this just yet."
He sounded so much like his old self that Cordelia started to fall in line without thinking. Angel was in charge; Angel would take care of things like he always did. But 'always' wasn't like that anymore, a little voice insisted a moment later. Angel's habit of taking charge could have gotten them all killed just a few months ago, and it had killed a lot of people...low-life creepy lawyers, true, but still human beings.
"What about Wesley?" Cordelia asked, forcing her body to stay firmly put. "He isn't here. He should be here if we're taking on a new case...but he's not."
"So we'll tell him when he is." Angel jerked his head back towards the waiting guests. "Meanwhile you can get everybody settled while I get the details to pass on to Wes...when he gets here."
"I'm staying," Buffy said. Her quick assured tone suddenly wavered as she met Angel's eyes. "I don't want to interfere in your business or anything...but this is right up my alley. And as long as I'm in the neighborhood..."
Angel smiled down at her, taking just an instant to bask in the warmth of cherished memories. He had always taken pride in Buffy's performance as the slayer, and he had treasured the times he was able to help her fulfill her destiny. The tables might be turned at the moment, but he still felt that comforting glow of knowing they would fight as a team.
"I'd like that," was all he said, however.
"And so it begins," Cordelia sighed, surrendering to the inevitable. How much trouble could Angel get up to in the lobby anyhow? "Princess Buffy rides in and collects the vampire prince while Cordyrella cleans up the mess." She waved her hand towards the staircase. "Come on, peasants; I have chimneys to sweep after I play cruise director."
"Actually I think this makes you more Gopher than Julie McCoy," Xander pointed out, ducking in the nick of time to avoid Cordelia's hand on the back of his skull.
"Your love boat is going to need a lifeboat if you're not careful, Harris," his former flame threatened as she pushed him up the stairs.
"And to think she can't get an acting job when she's so good at disguising her true feelings," Buffy mused under her breath.
The Host beamed at the small slayer. "Oh Kitten, we're going to get along just fine."
* * * * *
The front door flew open, hitting the side wall with a resounding crash before it rebounded back on the little monk scurrying across the threshold.
"Oh Slayer," Glory caroled, following Merk slowly into the Summers house. "Itsy bitsy Slayer person; where are you?"
"I do not think she is here, magnificence," Merk murmured. He took a quick step back when Glory swung around to glare at him. "The house...it would seem to be empty," he stammered in explanation.
"But she can't not be here," Glory insisted. "I'm tired of chasing after her for my Key. I came here to get it today, and I mean to get it...today."
Merk tried to arrange his lips in a hopeful smile. "But...she is not here," he repeated. "Perhaps if we wait..."
"Aren't you listening? I'm tired of waiting." Glory stormed into the living room and threw herself down into the chair by the fireplace. "Once, just once, I want Fate to work for me instead of against me and deliver me my Key." She scuffed her foot against the carpet. "Or at least a way to get it quickly."
* * * * *
Riley saw the open door from halfway down Revello Drive; he was in Sunnydale and all his senses were wired for anything that looked out of the ordinary. Buffy's door being wide open, with only a strange car in the driveway, actually didn't qualify as out of the ordinary, but it did come under the heading of 'suspicious.'
Dammit, he had known something was up! She seemed so strange last night, but he'd chalked it up to the awkwardness of the situation. He'd even come to believe she truly meant to start things up again with Angel; after spending half the day walking and thinking about it, he'd come here today to say good-bye. Riley Finn didn't hang around where he wasn't wanted.
But seeing her house now, so open and vulnerable to attack, he realized there had been more going on than just an uncomfortable farewell. She was in trouble; she was just too proud to ask for help, least of all from a boyfriend she'd turned away.
She needed him. Not Angel, who couldn't go out in the day even if he still lived anywhere near Sunnydale...even if he still lived, which technically, he didn't. No, she needed Riley, who was here, right here, when she needed him. Which was now.
With that in mind, Riley hunched over and began to run, cutting across neighbors' lawns in an effort to reach the living room windows of Buffy's house unobserved. Unfortunately, while no one in the house seemed to see him, he also couldn't see them through the window sheers, whoever 'them' might be.
Obviously the situation called for invasive procedures, and that called for backup. But backup took time to gather, and Riley knew that if Buffy was inside, she needed his help now, not when he'd amassed an army to assist him.
He ducked down, sliding past the front window to avoid discovery. Once he reached the relative safety of the other side, however, he straightened his back before he marched in the front door.
Head up, back straight and eyes forward, no crouching or sneaking around for Riley Finn. Buffy needed...no, wanted...a man, a real man, and that's the way a real man went into battle.
His mind wouldn't allow him to remember how such 'real men' too often came out of the battle.
* * * * *
"So this Drokken demon, he kills people, right?" Angel asked for the third time.
"Well, sure, if he, umm, thinks it's necessary," the Host hedged. He forced a little laugh. "And who knows what a Drokken might consider necessary, so of course you can see why I think you should kill him first."
Buffy slipped off the edge of the desk, impatient for action after a too-long car trip and its inevitable 'not-flying-into-Angel's-arms' conclusion. Sitting so close to him in body, yet so very far away in spirit, was slowly driving her wild.
"Okay, works for me," she said briskly. "Where is it and what do we need to kill it with?" She smiled winsomely at Angel. "I brought lots of weapons...if you'll help me unload them from the car."
He returned her smile with slightly less enthusiasm. "Maybe when it's a little more on the shady side out there," he suggested. "In the meantime, I'm still not getting a bead on why this Drokken is such a big threat." He returned his attention to the Host. "Has he actually killed anyone...or did you see him planning it when he sang at the club...or did he..."
"Angel, it's a demon," Buffy interrupted him. "We kill demons; it's pretty much our theme song. Read the t-shirts."
The Host straightened his back, sniffing loudly at the overeager slayer. "I certainly hope I'm not part of that logo. I may be a demon, but I'm a lot nicer guy than some of the slime that crawls through this place." He looked over at Angel, suddenly realizing his remarks were subject to interpretation. "I meant the lawyers, Angel-cakes, not the help."
"Understood."
Angel ran a hand through his shock of dark hair and tried to force his weary brain to function. Somehow he had to find out the true source of Buffy's distress and its remedy, as well as placate Cordelia, play hosts to his guests, possibly find and fight a demon whose goals were yet to be determined, and oh yes, reeducate a Vampire Slayer to believe that not all demons were evil. The last was a concept he was only beginning to come to grips with himself.
Some days he really wondered why he'd been so eager to rise out of that nice quiet coffin.
Buffy felt something twist deep inside of her at the sight of Angel's distress, and her only thought was to offer succor. Her hand fell to the back of his neck and slipped beneath his collar, her fingers working out the knots in his corded muscles before she even realized what she was doing. He looked so tired all of the sudden, almost...old, and it frightened her. Angel was her strength; she depended on him, whether he knew it or not.
"Angel, hon..." The sensations from her fingertips finally penetrated her consciousness and her hand snapped back to her side. "Angel," she tried again, working hard to steady her traitorous voice.
He raised his head, meeting her gaze with resignation.
"Angel, you're right," she said bravely. "We need more info; I know that. I just wanted to do something...get my body working even if my mind is still an autopilot. Blame it on the long car trip."
He smiled, the slow sweet smile she remembered glimpsing on all too rare occasions.
"It just about killed you to say that, didn't it?"
She chuckled in relief and perched once more on the edge of the desk, still keeping that damned careful distance between them.
"Pretty much, so I hope you have your business consultations taped or something. Those are words you will not soon hear again."
"Aw, this is so sweet," the Host purred. "It's enough to make me cry...if the broken glass, broken tables and broken wall in my club hadn't already made me do that today." The glare emanating from his red eyes was truly impressive. "So are you going to help me or not?"
"We are," Angel said firmly, in concert with Buffy. "But first, you want to tell us how you know what this thing is, and what it wants?"
"You really need to know?"
"I'd cross my heart, but...well, you can see my problem with that one," Angel said.
"All right," the demon sighed, "but remember, you asked for it. I'm afraid this, my friend, is a story as long as your pearly whites."
* * * * *
The human was pathetic. All brash stampeding menace one minute, and then the fight just went out of him. A few quick blows to the head...and the stomach...and the chest...and he just folded up like a cheap tray table. Pathetic.
The goddess turned on her heel and temporarily abandoned Riley to his chosen place on the floor by the fireplace. Fine, she fumed, if he wanted to be stubborn like little Miss 'I Save the World Even On Holidays and Weekends,' the he could just lie there and bleed for a few minutes while she thought of a new plan to find the Slayer, and thus, her Key. Something quick. Something simple.
Something that didn't drain her energy so much.
Glory wheeled around and gazed at the former commando with new eyes. As a source of information, he was fairly useless: all talk and no actual knowledge. But as a quick pick-me-up...well, that his brain cells might have the wattage for.
* * * * *
"So you're saying this demon came through a portal from your world," Buffy said slowly, "and that world is not the same as this one?"
She didn't know why she was so surprised; Glory came from another dimension as well. But in almost 14 years of public schooling, not a single geography teacher had ever mentioned even one extra dimension, let alone a surplus.
"This is LA, sweetie," the Host drawled. He leaned back in his chair and elegantly crossed his legs. "Everybody's from someplace else."
"I'm, umm, actually from LA. Not lately, I mean, but originally."
"Seriously?" He looked interested, his red eyes wide and alert. "And you left it for the glamour that is a hellmouth?"
She smiled painfully. "Not much choice. Combination of my folks getting divorced and ye olde sacred destiny." Buffy glanced through the open door of the office, towards the staircase at the edge of the lobby. "Speaking of things destined, I better go check on Dawn before she manages to pull the building down around us. She really, I mean really, loves to explore. And it, uh, usually ends with a call to the fire marshal."
Angel half-rose from his seat, alarm spreading quickly across his face. "Fire marshal?" he asked faintly. "You know, maybe it would be a good idea after all if you..."
"On my way," she promised swiftly. "Sounds like I'm not needed on the demon-front until sundown anyway." Buffy nodded her head cordially at the Host and threw a smile over her shoulder at Angel as she sped out of the office.
Angel watched her progress across the lobby in silence, as the Host watched him in equal stillness.
"Well, I think you're pushing your luck waiting to get the Drokken, Angel-face," the Host murmured at last, "but I'm taking it on faith that it has more to do with not wanting to burst into flames than it does with the chance to spend some quality time with the fairy princess here."
Angel closed his eyes and asked the PTB's for strength, not for the first time that day.
"She needs some help; that's why she came here," the vampire patiently explained.
"If I was planning some big romantic reunion, do you think I would have suggested she bring half the town with her?"
The Host narrowed his eyes as a mocking smile spread across his green face. "Never ask a question like that to one who has seen the kinkier side of your soul, sweetie. But actually, no, I suppose you wouldn't, just from a pain relief standpoint. I don't need music to hear the roar coming from that collection of souls...and a lot of it is directed at you. There isn't a pain killer in the world that will shield you from those waves."
"I'm not looking for shelter," Angel replied evenly. "I just want to help Buffy."
"Same difference, my brave little camper. For you she's hell and salvation all rolled up into one bite-sized package."
* * * * *
To Be Continued