Friday nights were never quiet at St. George's. Even in the Recovery wing, families would traipse about at all hours. After eighteen years of it, though, Marjorie Johnson had grown accustomed to the hustle and bustle. She had also acclimated to the rare arguments between family members, even the ones that devolved into shoving matches or fistfights when tensions ran high. Occasionally things did get out of hand; on the scariest night of her life, nine years before, a man snuck in a gun and shot his father-in-law as they stood by his wife's bed.
The bang that erupted from Room 357 dwarfed the sound of that long ago gunshot, and Marjorie raced out from behind the reception desk expecting to find another body. She rushed down the hall and into the room, followed closely by two police officers whose weapons were drawn and ready.
Rather than a murderer, they found a glowering dark-haired man tightening his fingers around the throat of a pale blonde in a leather coat. The blonde's head rested in a newly formed dent in the wall; two other men, both bearded, did their best to separate the combatants. Miraculously, both patients slept soundly anyway.
"What do you think you're doing?!?" Marjorie shouted.
All four of them turned to look at her. A smile played across the blonde's lips as the other man released him.
"Way to go, Peaches," Spike said under his breath.
"Umm … sorry, ma'am," Angel said abashedly, his eyes flicking over to the blonde angrily. "Just a misunderstanding."
The nurse glared at him for a full five seconds before responding. "This is a hospital. If you have disagreements, we prefer that you visit at alternate times." She paused again, allowing her look to burn into them both. "Now, will these gentlemen need to escort one of you out?"
The vampires traded a look before Angel shook his head. The nurse departed, muttering about broken homes and family values. The guards added disapproving looks of their own as they left.
"Pillock," Sirius said, shaking his head.
"She's just doing her job, mate," Spike said. He withdrew a cigarette from his coat, but thought better of igniting it as his eyes roamed over the inert forms of Gunn and Cordelia. Both had absorbed painful thrashings at the hands of the demon thieves; bruises splotched Cordelia's face, and Gunn's cheek bore a nasty cut. Three of their eight limbs sported casts, and Cordy's shoulder would take months to heal from the dislocation. The doctors expected them to remain under hospital supervision for at least another week.
"I was talking about you," he responded.
"Just sayin', the poof here should do as good a job as the Slayer when it comes to …" Angel's growl cut him off.
"We do not have time for this," Wesley said harshly. "The longer you two strut, the more likely it is that those artifacts reach the black market."
"How many of them were there, Angel?" Sirius asked, hoping to get them back on track. The Spike/Angel show was wearing thin on his frayed patience. Angel seemed reasonable enough, but Spike was such a pain in the ass that Sirius wanted to stake him almost as much as Angel did.
"Eight or ten, Sirius. Some Fyarl demons and several vampires."
"Fyarl demons?" Sirius asked.
"Foot soldier types," Spike said. "Strong, large, ram horns on their heads. Paralyzing mucus, as well."
"Are you kidding?"
"Sure, Puddles. I'm kidding."
"Back off," Angel warned. "It sounds ridiculous," he said to Sirius, "but it's true."
"Where're all your boys, mate?"
"Cordy and Gunn took the brunt of the assault. Lorne and Fred went to grab some food. That's all there is."
Spike shook his head.
"Do we know where to find the guys who did this?"
"No, Sirius. But I know who we can ask. We're just waiting for one more person, then we can head out."
"Where're we off to?" Spike asked.
"I know a fence, only works high level mystical artifacts. He either had it done or turned the job down. He's the best in the city."
"And whose sorry ass might we be waitin' for?
"My son." Angel turned to catch the look on Spike's face as he said it.
Spike dropped the unlit cigarette from his hand.
"YOUR BLOODY SON?!? Bugger all! Who's the lucky mommy? And do I even want to know how?"
"It's Darla. And no, you don't. We don't have time."
"DARLA! SHE'S DEAD!"
"Uh huh."
"You knew my mother?" The voice echoed from the hallway. A teenage boy stepped into view.
Spike gaped, then looked from Angel to Connor and back. He nodded.
"Spike and Sirius, meet Connor. Connor, Spike and Sirius." Angel walked over to his son. The tension between them was palpable, even to Sirius. "Thank you for coming."
"This is for Cordelia. Not you." He glanced sorrowfully at the wounded girl.
Angel nodded and motioned for them to follow him. Wesley had agreed to stay behind and guard the wounded.
Spike turned to Sirius on the way out.
"Let's go see a man about an eye, then."
Angel led them to a demon bar in one of the shadier sections of Hollywood. A number of motorcycles waited silently on the curb, their owners enjoying a few belts inside. A large neon sign proclaimed the name of the bar in blue letters: The Rest Room. Spike chuckled when he saw it.
"My kind of place. Keep your wand handy, Puddles."
Annoyed, Sirius said nothing but made sure his wand hand was clear.
The bouncer, whose head and limbs were mere afterthoughts tacked on to his massive stomach, wore grotesque leather pants and a leather vest that hadn't fit in twenty years. His eyes glowed green.
"Where do you think you fancy pants kids are goin'?" The bouncer's evil smirk revealed hundreds of needle-like teeth. He knew Angel and liked him, but they did pay him to bounce.
Angel called out his game face and snarled. "We're here to see a man about a job, Raef." The bouncer immediately softened and gestured for them to enter.
"Upstairs. Last door on the right."
Knifing easily through the crowd, Angel took them through the mass of demons and up a rickety set of stairs. The hallway, painted in the faded mustard color reserved for tenements in the slums, only had one door. Angel broke the lock with a hard push.
"Some people ah kahnd enough to knock, young man," the demon behind the desk said in a thick Georgia drawl. Two vampires stood guard on his sides. Though human-looking, he had red scales rather than skin, and a neatly trimmed goatee. His purple suit was complemented by a black bowler.
"Is that an actual zoot suit, mate? Haven't seen one in ages," Spike said.
"Hello, Randy." Angel ignored Spike. "Been awhile."
"Indeed it has, mah friend. What brings y'all to these heah pahts?"
"Somebody did a number on my friends and took some things that don't belong to them. I want them."
"Ah see. And why would you think ah have any knowledge," he drew that word out, "of this unfoeseen occurrence?"
"This was serious stuff, the kind you usually take. Did someone approach you about hitting my place?"
"If they did, that would be between me and mah client. You know that, Angel." Angel brought out his game face, and Spike followed suit. Sirius brought his wand out.
"I know you'll tell me, or we'll have a problem."
"I believe you ah wrong on both counts. Boys," Randy said. The vampires came from around the desk towards Angel. Spike and Connor moved at the same time. Spike kicked the left vampire in the groin, then hit him with a vicious uppercut as he fell. He grabbed the stunned vamp by the collar and pummeled him with his right hand.
Connor whipped out a stake and dusted the other vampire before it could react. He tossed the stake to Spike, who hit his vamp once more for good measure and then staked him too. Randy, eyes wide in horror, tried to burrow deeper into his chair.
"I know you'll tell me, or we'll have a problem," Angel repeated.
"Now, Angel, ah can't help you, ah told you that." Sirius waved his wand and muttered a few words. Randy lifted from his chair and slammed spread eagle against the back wall.
"Good work, Puddles."
"Spike, shut up and pin him up there, will you?" Spike took the stake and slammed it through the demon's left shoulder. Connor pulled another and did the same on the right; Randy howled in pain as he hung from them. "I'll put this bluntly, you wanker. A friend of ours needs some of that stuff urgently, or a number of children are going to die. While you might not care, it upsets the rest of us greatly."
"Ah turned down the job, awlright?" The pain reduced him to whimpering. "The guy who offuhd it is new in town, works foah a New York vampire. Ah told him ah had a moral obligation not to hit Angel's place."
"More like a continue un-living obligation. Where is he?" Angel asked.
"Don't know." Spike twisted one of the stakes, drawing a blood-curdling scream. "Ah … ah have a phone numbuh. Muh Pahm Pilot. On the desk. His name is Vance." Sirius watched in awe as Angel picked up a rectangular piece of silver inlaid with glass, and began tapping on it.
"What is that thing?"
"Address book. Muggle technology," Spike replied. "Holds information, like a notebook." Sirius shook his head in wonder.
"Got the number," Angel said.
"What now?" Connor asked.
"We call him, and set up a meeting. Thanks, Randy. Anybody comes asking about a crew who works for you sometimes, you tell them the guys are the best you have. Got it?" He nodded.
The four of them walked out, leaving the demon thief staked to the wall.
"I'm looking for Vance," Angel said into the cell phone. They were lingering outside of a McDonald's two blocks from The Rest Room.
"And you are?" The voice was deep and obviously male.
"Liam. Randy said Vance has been offering jobs around."
"And that concerns you how, Liam?"
"My crew is looking for some steady work. We help Randy out sometimes."
"I see." The voice paused for a minute. Angel nearly hung up before it came back on. "We'll call you. If we don't, and you call us again, it will go poorly for you." Angel heard the click of a disconnected call.
"Well?" Spike said.
"They'll ask around, try and check us out. Then, when Randy vouches for us, we meet them and get the Eye back."
"Sounds simple enough," Sirius said.
"It should work," he answered, then shrugged. "Always seems to in the movies Cordy makes me watch, anyway."
"What's a movie?" Sirius asked.
Spike shook his head and lit a cigarette.