"I'm looking for Liam."
"This is Liam. What can I do for you, Vance?"
"I think we should meet. Be at this address in one hour." Angel copied down the address, then repeated it back to him.
"Are we in business?"
"Depends. Once I see your crew, I'll let you know."
"I don't like wasting my night off for nothing," Angel snarled. He knew giving in too easily would be obvious.
Vance hung up in response.
"What's the deal, Peaches?" Spike asked. He, Sirius, and Angel had been waiting for two days at the Hyperion. Connor checked in every few hours, then disappeared back out into the night.
"He wants to meet us in an hour."
"The Prince Poof isn't here," Spike observed.
Angel's anger flared; he grabbed Spike's duster and lifted him off the ground, the vampiric ridges prominent on his face.
"Call him that to his face and you'll be on the business end of a stake. The only reason you aren't is because Willow sent you to Cordy."
"Temper, temper."
Angel dropped him to the floor.
"You have no idea how much pleasure it would give me to do it, too."
"Go on an' try then," Spike retorted, his feet shifting into combat position. Two days cooped up with Angel had him itching for a bout of fisticuffs. "Afraid you can't take me? Like Slutty the Vampire Layer? She is afraid o' me, y'know."
The fierce snarl that escaped Angel's lips reminded Sirius of Remus Lupin. The dark-haired vampire launched himself at Spike, tackling him to the floor of the Hyperion lobby and slamming his fists into the blonde's ribs.
Spike brought his knee up from the floor, catching his sire between the legs with an enjoyable yelp. His forehead thwacked into Angel's nose with a satisfying crunch and Spike tossed him away. Swiftly rising, the two vampires moved in a slow circle, eager to have at each other.
"Will you cretins leave off for two minutes?" Sirius accompanied his shout with a flick of his wand, freezing both of them in place. "This is bloody ridiculous. We have a meeting in less than an hour with some people who want to kill us all. Or they will, at any rate. Save your deathmatch for afterwards." He undid the spell, and neither vampire attacked. "Good. That wasn't so hard, was it? Now, do we wait for Connor or not?"
"We can't," Angel said with a shake of his head. "If we aren't there, we'll lose this shot completely. I'll leave a note for him, but we have to go now." The thought of the upcoming meeting drained his ire rapidly. He looked at Spike. The blonde vampire watched him with that annoying smirk plastered on his face.
"Do you know where this place is?" Spike asked.
Angel had never developed any interest in American baseball. He didn't even know the rules. But he did know where Dodgers Stadium was, and that was where Vance wanted to meet. With the season still months away, the fence around the parking lot had been padlocked shut.
Before Sirius could open it with a spell, Spike had ripped it off.
"Good work, blondie," Sirius said. "Now we won't have to bother re-locking it and making sure no one knows we're already here."
"Sod off, Puddles," the vampire said. The prospect of an intense fight gleefully bounced around in Spike's head. The short round with Angel had been barely a handshake compared to the warm greeting he expected here. The three of them walked through the gate and into the main lot. Even from three hundred yards they could make out the glow of the flames.
"Follow my lead," Angel growled. "I want to do this without a fight if we can."
"You aren't any fun anymore, you know?" When Angel didn't respond, Spike acquiesced. "Bollocks. We'll do it your way."
"Try not to cry, Spike," Sirius said. "It isn't at all manly." He had his wand close at hand.
"I'm thinkin' you should shut up, Puddles, and make with a disguise. Whoever's in there will see you as a tasty snack and not much else. And don't do the black dog bit; you don't smell like a dog."
Sirius waved his wand and muttered a few incantations. Spike and Angel both turned around when they heard the beating of his heart stop. He grinned darkly.
"Better?"
"What'd you do?" Angel asked.
"Disguised myself as a corpse." The vampire nodded, then led them towards the light. Someone had erected a ring of torches in the center of the lot. Outside of the illuminated area, pitch black darkness covered everything. The hairless demon standing inside the circle had oily blue skin, but otherwise seemed completely human. He wore a charcoal pinstripe suit without a shirt.
"Vance?" Angel said when they got close enough.
"Trying to pass yourself off as a thief, Angelus? Not very bright. I'm afraid your associate Randy was most displeased of your treatment of him." He paused in thought. Several vampires and Fyarl demons emerged from the darkness and surrounded them. "It's safe to say that he wasn't very fond of what I did to him either, though. Too bad you weren't at your office when we came calling."
"Still lookin' to avoid that fight, Peaches?" Spike said pleasantly. He tossed his cigarette to the ground and stamped it out. From beneath his duster, he drew a silver short sword. Sirius had his wand out already. Angel looked at the two of them, trying to decide what to do.
The hell with it, he decided, and launched himself at Vance.
"INCENDO!" Sirius shouted, loosing a fireball on a pair of vampires dressed in leather. The female grabbed the male and tossed him in front of it, creating a flaming heap of vampire dust. Sound rumbled deep in her throat as she vamped out and attacked Sirius.
Spike moved in the opposite direction, slashing at one of the Fyarl demons with the sword. A veiny, orange hand went flying and the demon howled in pain.
Angel hit Vance in the face, sending him to the floor with the impact. When the vampire dove at him, the blue-skinned demon raised his feet and kicked Angel in the chest, knocking him away. The two of them quickly reengaged and began trading blows.
Leaving the vampires to Sirius and the leader to Angel, Spike engaged the Fyarl demons eagerly. His sword danced and slashed as he gaily darted about. The lumbering demons had greater power but no hope of equaling Spike's speed. In short order, he disposed of half their number. The remaining two, hardly cowed by the deaths of their companions, assaulted him again.
As the second demon corpse slumped to the floor with its head detached, the Fyarl demons grabbed the upper hand. One of them clubbed Spike from behind; the blow sent him sprawling and his sword clattering away. Dazed, Spike tried unsuccesfully to stumble to his feet as the second demon yanked him into the air by the throat. His clenching fist threatened to pop Spike's head off like a champagne cork. The other one pummeled him from the side, turning the vampire's face into a bloody mess. Mustering his strength through the searing pain, Spike slammed a steel-toed boot into the closest demon's face.
His attacker saw the boot coming and twisted away; Spike's foot skidded painfully across its cheeks and snagged on the curly horn. The beast released his throat as it frantically clawed at the offending boot, casting Spike into a freefall. The trapped foot halted him in midair and wrenched his ankle painfully.
He hung there, staring at the ground a full foot away, for what seemed like hours.
When the horn finally snapped off, Spike tumbled to the ground face first. The demon screeched at the blood flowing plentifully over his ear and shoulder, while his partner laughed at the absurd sight.
On the ground, Spike clambered away, his injured ankle preventing any attempt at standing. Even dragging it along the floor hurt like the devil. Out of options, he decided to improvise.
"Hey!" He called in Fyarl. "What's that bugger payin' you?"
"You speak Fyarl?" The demon looked astounded.
"Yeah, mate, me speak Fyarl. What's he payin' you?" It named a tidy sum. "That's all?" Spike said. "I'll pay you double to work for me."
The hornless demon, still howling in pain, walked up to its partner with eyes aflame. The haggling demon, which Spike irreverently though of as Horny, put a hand on Hornless' chest.
"How much?" Horny growled. The other one kept trying to push past him.
Spike named double the amount, marveling at their stupidity. His eyes swept the floor, searching desperately for his sword.
"That a lot," the demon said, the garish face reflecting astonishment.
"No!" Hornless screamed. "My horn gone! I kill him!"
"No, we get paid!" Horny argued.
Hornless, angry beyond reason, smashed his comrade with an enormous orange fist. Deep-throated howling followed and an all-out Battle Royale erupted between the two.
Spike, catching sight of his sword and sighing at the indignity of it, shimmied backwards to grab the sharpened silver weapon. After retrieving it, he watched with a grimace as the two demons fought dirty. When Horny stuck his thumb into Hornless' head wound, Spike felt the bile rise in his throat.
The demons traded punches angrily for two more minutes before Hornless seized an opportunity and, with a dramatic flourish, tore Horny's head from his meaty body. On the floor, Spike raised himself to a kneeling position in time to see the demon rush him. In its fury, it leaped blindly; the vampire drove the sword into its heart with a lethal twist at the end for good measure.
Sirius walked over as Spike was wiping the blood from his sword with the fallen corpse.
"Not bad," the wizard said, offering him a hand up.
"Showin' some bottle yourself, Puddles," Spike replied, taking the hand and rising, employing the sword to support his tender ankle. Sirius had dusted the remaining vamps with a combination of staking and spells. "How'd the Poof do?"
Spike, Sirius and Angel surrounded Vance. Angel's victory had been relatively easy compared to Spike's, though all of them boasted facial cuts that oozed blood, and Sirius felt a sharp pain with every breath. Spike, hobbled slightly by his twisted ankle and careful not to land in any demon parts, sank to one knee and lit a cigarette.
"Now," Angel snarled, his game face out, "tell us where the artifacts are." Vance's blue color faded slightly under the blood.
"My master has them. That's all I know. I only had to acquire them."
"Who is your master?"
"I can't…"
"Let me guess, mate," Spike said from the floor. "He'll kill you if you tell us, right?" Vance nodded, hoping to sell his lie. "So we threaten you some more, and eventually we say 'we'll kill you now' or some other bleedin' nonsense, and you finally tell us, right?" The thief shook his head, terrified. "Boring load o' shit, that is. You and your movies," he said to Angel with a shake of his head.
Spike rose to his feet and pushed past his sire. He clubbed Vance with the hilt of his sword, knocking the demon to the ground. The tip of the sword penetrated the side of Vance's knee and Spike slid it down to the ankle as if he were unzipping the skin.
Vance screamed when the air made contact with muscle and bone. Spike took his cigarette in one hand and held it over the wound. He raised an eyebrow to Vance.
"The Don! I work for the Don!"
Angel and Spike traded surprised glances.
"He still out of New York, then?"
"No, he-he's here, in Los Angeles," Vance whimpered.
"Where?" Angel asked.
"H-he moves around. I don't know where."
Angel kicked him in the head.
"I swear, I don't know. He spends Friday nights at Caritas, though. Every week since he got here. Caritas."
Angel wanted to laugh at the irony. He looked at Spike and Sirius and nodded.
"See? Wasn't that hard. There is one thing more, though."
"W-what's that?" Vance whined.
"Don't fuck with Big Bad." Spike stubbed his cigarette out on the inside of Vance's leg, drawing a pleasurable roar of pain. He leaned over and casually beheaded the sobbing demon.
"Come on, Puddles. We're off to see the wizard."