[As this, the fourth and final chapter of Awake goes up, I wanted to thank everyone who posted reviews. I hadn't expect, well, any, really, so it was very encouraging that so many people actually read this.

And to anyone who suggests story elements that later come to pass: Thanks, but I don't generally use suggestions from reviews, unless they're really very good, or call out to me, in which case I've probably already decided on it anyway. The Wesley, thing, for example. I think it's pretty generally agreed that Spike and Wesley would get along fairly well.

In any case, I lied, and this isn't the final chapter. There's a lot more I want to do with this, and a lot more resolution to withold.

-DUNOTS]

"So, what's the deal, Lilah?" William said confrontationally, mocking emphasis on her name.

This woman had the gall to come into his place of residence on one of his precious saturdays and try to talk business. She was gonna get, and she was gonna get it bad. Not a single smarmy remark would go unturned. No sir.

She sighed and pulled some papers out of her breifcase. "I'm sure you've figured out by now that we... know about you."

Oh. Very well, then. Don't look shocked. Keep a straight face. No, a knowing face! You've had suspicions, that's close enough to the truth. Whatever you do, do not let these people get the upper hand.

When he didn't say anything. she went ahead and continued, laying some sheets of heavily printed paper on his endtable. "I'm sure you've also figured out that we know more than you do. We'd like to help you with that."

He couldn't help but laugh at that. It was just too good. "Oh, right," he rolled his eyes, "you act like I haven't been workin' there. I've seen what you people are up to."

If she cared, she was putting on a pretty good show of the opposite. She looked him more directly in the eye and stated simply, "We expect something in return, of course. Nothing for free in this world."

"Yeah, I get the feeling I know that better than you think," he growled, "What is it you want me for?"

Calmly, she pointed at a folder underneath the papers on his endtable. "The specifics are listed inside. The basics, however... We need someone to handle special tasks. Someone strong. Someone smart. Someone we can trust."

He opened up the folder, scanning some of the terms inside. "Trust? Bollocks to that. What you want is someone who doesn't know better. I'm guessing my, how'd you write it?" he mused, pointing at a certain passage, "'Atypical strengh, stamina, and senses' were just a nice little bonus.

"And I bloody well know what you mean by 'Special Tasks,'" he drawled, still angry enough to continue, "I'm to go and collect payment from people who try to shaft you lot, aren't I? Or, wait, look at this... An agent of Mr. Angel, to try and help the helpless, it says."

She almost looked pleased with herself. Very, very nearly.

"Oh," he noted, "You sure that isn't just a typo? Maybe you meant, 'Help the harmful?'"

Standing, Lilah straightened her skirt and explained, "All the terms are in those papers. Be sure to look over the contract carefully. Come and see me on Monday, at nine o'clock, and return the papers."

And she was striding out, confident and smart.

"Signed or not."

---

Jacob Tangerine's eyes slid over the words, his trademark grin conspicuously absent. More often than not, he would use a thick red pen to strike out a line, or grunt thoughtfully about something. Eventually, the final page of the contract turned over, and he was done.

"It's safe," he said solemnly.

William grabbed the papers offerend, and took a scan through them. About ninety per cent of what was written had been struck through, rejected by Tangerine. "This much?"

Jacob nodded coldly. "I dealt with these folk before. Lotta things you want to avoid in there. Especially the posthumous bits."

"Posthumous?" William asked, a little shocked, "The hell you say!"

Jacob pointed at a pertinent line and corrected, "The hell I do say. Look there."

Sure enough, there was a clause about continued employment, even after death, regardless of the party's afterlife location. They would, in fact, pull him out of hell.

"I'm taking a lot on faith, Jacob," he scowled, "How can I goddamn believe any of this?"

Tangerine looked past him for a moment, something clicking in his head. After a few seconds of pondering, he turned and gave a follow-me gesture. Wary, WIlliam strode after him into Jacob's bedroom, not dislike the others at the motel.

"I got a feeling you're not like the rest of 'em, either," Tangerine smiled, "seein' as Wolfram and Harts wants you so bad. So, hey, what harm is there in showing you what I look like?"

"What are you..."

And his grin grew, and grew, and seemed to go all the way around. His face split at the mouth, the parody of a smile curving around his gums. Several rows of teeth shone from inside that gaping maw, and his tongue seemed to glow at the end.

"... doing?"

Shrugging, Jacob smiled something like sincerely. "Hey, not all us demons are such bad guys. Us Tangoranegri demons, for example. Sure, we eat anything that can fit in our mouths. That's a lot, but it sure ain't people."

William wanted to speak. Really, he did.

"Plus," Jacob chuckled, a profound experience for anyone who saw it, "You people don't fall for the hypnotizing light on the tongue."

"You're... a demon," William choked out, instincts calling out for him to run.

Oddly, however, the instincts wanted him to run forward and pummel the holy hell out of the demon. He must have been an odd sort of guy.

Jacob shrugged and continued, "Anyway, a lot of demons hang around this earth, and you probably knew it before you went wonky. Just wanted to show that a lot of us bad guys are miles better than some human types. Wolfram and Hart, for one..."

William was beginning to gain his nerve again, and asked, "So you think I should turn them down?"

"Nah," Tangerine smirked, "Bring the contract in like this, and make 'em give it the ok. Tell 'em you won't sign it otherwise. THey want you that bad, they'll say okay. They don't, you get to walk away with your soul."

"And that's a real worry," William asked earnestly, "Losing my soul?"

Jacob looked at him knowingly and answered, "One day you'll learn that's a real precious commodity."

---

Picking out flats was very irritating. They weren't interesting, and it was, on the whole, hard to imagine what they would look like when lived-in. He would rather have been taken into apartments already rented out. That way, he could tell how much could fit in one.

Additionally, they kept trying to give him second and third floor rooms. He found himself put off by the idea of anything above ground level. Chalk it up to acrophobia, he figured.

"We do have one more, but I don't know if you'd want it," the woman explained.

William leaned his head forward and looked from under his brow.

"Right this way..."

He could see why others might be turned off by the apartment. It was built on, or rather, cut into a sort of a hill, so there was a wall on one side, as though the apartment were actually underground. It would be a pain for moving, what with the awkward stairs. Also, he was sure that it would have the highest chance of flooding.

But...

"I like it," he answered a question she hadn't asked.

Blinking, she explained, "You haven't seen the inside yet."

"Same as all the others," he assumed, "Best I'm gonna get. Go ahead and sign me up."

She shrugged and they began to make their way back to the leasing office. No point turning down a customer.

---

"I'm sorry about Friday," the message said, "I got ahead of myself. Do you want to have some coffee? My treat."

Sigh. That Tanya, always making things harder on him. Just when he'd decided that it was the worst idea, that he had to distacne himself from her... Just when he'd thought he could get away...

He picked up the phone and dialed her number, resignation being stronger than nervousness.

"Hello?"

"Hey," he said into the reciever, "It's me. You wanna go get that coffee tomorrow?"

She said yes, and it was very yes.

"Right. two-thirty. Bye."

---

Sunday was a bullshit day. He'd figured that one out on the first monday working at Wolfram and Hart. It was like the weekend, but too close to Monday for comfort. Things had a tendency to impose themselves on Sundays.

"Hi," she greeted, standing from the outdoor table she was seated at. Funny, wasn't that supposed to go the other way 'round?

"Sorry I'm a little late," he apologized, "Lot on my mind."

She looked downcast at that comment, and he realized she must have thought it was pointed at her. To be fair, most of it wasn't.

"Hey, wait, not you...." he winced, knowing that wasn't exactly the best thing to say.

She screwed up her face in this cute sort of little-kid-pondering thing she did from time to time, setting her coffee down. "William, are you threatened by me?"

"No," yes, very much so, you're a walking marriage, and it's all I don't need, god you scare the-, "Why do you ask?"

"You've been weird lately... like you don't want to be around me."

Oh, god, she was onto him. He had to do something, say something. And no more lies, no more half-truths. "It's not you. It's me."

"That had damn well better be the case," she snapped, startling William, "Because I'm tired of that one."

Yeah, she probably was. "Well, I've had a lot going on. I mean, I just got out of a city that fell into the earth."

She seemed to concede that point.

"Gettin' a new flat's wierd. Been a while since I've lived alone," he said, hoping it to be true. "'S a big step."

She nodded. Things seemed to be going well.

"And this job," he explained, starting to get into it, "I'm so thankful for it, but... It's wierd. I see things I don't want to. And now they want to, uh, promote me."

Her eyes lit up, and he thought he saw jealousy for a split second. "Promotion? Already? Isn't it a bit early for that?"

"Hey, that's what I thought, eh?" he replied, "It is a bit early for that. But they seem to want it, and it's probably a better gig anyway. I still don't know if I'll accept, though."

"Why not?"

Wow. He couldn't speak for a moment, and it was somewhat surprising. He'd been thinking about things so much that he had forgotten such a simple question.

"I'm sure you can do it," she continued, "And even if it doesn't go well, you're strong. You can do whatever you want, William."

As she put her hand on his, he found himself doing the same. She was right. He could do whatever he wanted. He was his own man, whoever that was, and he was damn well going to start asserting it.

"You're a smart, beautiful, charming woman," he told her, "And you've helped me more than I'll ever know."

From the look in her eyes, she knew what he was going to say next.

"And I'm really sad that I can't love you right now. I just... I don't even know who I am, you know?"

She nodded a little. She thought she knew.

"I don't want to rule out us, though," he added, "I just don't have room right now. I have to find myself first."

She smiled and let go of his hands. "Thank you. I needed to know where I stood."

"You're not mad?"

She gave him a dark look and went on, "Starting to be. I'm a reasonable woman, William. You don't have to feel bad about this. We've only known each other for a few weeks, anyway. Whenever you change your mind, you know where to find me."

"Right next to me," he asserted, smiling, "You're a freind, and that's not bloody well gonna change."

And then they ordered coffee.

---

"What you want," William said casually, flopping the contract on Lilah Morgan's desk, "Is more or less a demon hunter."

She looked up at him, still neutral in expression.

A wry smirk on his face, he explained, "I can do that."

"So you'll be accepting our offer?" she asked, almost pleased with herself.

"I made some changes to the contract. Take them or leave them."

Calmly, she looked down and seemed to nearly react somehow to the sheer amount of strikethroughs. It had been watered down so much that all that remained was Wolfram and Hart's obligation to help him recover his memory by all means possible, and his obligation to "help the helpless" and hunt demons for the following year. That, and some non-disclosure agreements.

"I..." she said thoughtfully, taking all the changes in, "Think we can accept this."

"It's not your decision to make, is it?" he speculated.

Initialing and signing the contract, she replied with a smile, "Actually, it is. Sign here."

Warily, he looked down at the pen presented to him. After a second of hesitation, he reached forward, taking it in his slightly-trembling hand. This was a big step, and he wasn't sure he could handle it. Of course, he told himself, Wolfram and Hart did. They wouldn't have given him that medical if they hadn't.

Oh, right. He had left that, too.

Shrugging, he signed his name to the line and dated it, initialling in all the necessary spots.

"A pleasure," she soothed, "I'm glad you made the right decision. Come in tomorrow for your first assignment. I'll let Tristaple know that you've been... promoted."

"Right..." he mumbled, finding the door, "You do that..."

And all she did was smile.