Chapter 3:
THE STOLEN CHILD
On the news a nation mourns you unknown soldier, count the cost
For a second you'll be famous but labeled posthumous
Forgotten sons, forgotten sons
Peace on earth and mercy mild, Mother Brown has lost her child
Just another Forgotten Son
Marillion – Forgotten Sons
Winter blew through Los Angeles. The buildings acted like funnels, concentrating the force of the wind, making Faith to huddle deeper into her cracked leather jacket. She wished she had a pair of gloves. Her hair whipped around her face and she raked some off her mouth, turning her attention towards the monuments in front of her.
There was one for everyone they lost in that battle, Giles, Connor, Angel, Buffy, Dawn. At first, Faith had wondered about why the stones stood here in L.A. but a hundred miles now was not the two-hour trip it had been before the Troubles. It might as well be a lifetime away. Depending on what might be living on the Hellmouth now, she wouldn't doubt the risk they'd run if they tried to take Giles' body back to Sunnydale. It was safer, easier, to let him rest here, next to Connor. The stones for Buffy, Dawn and Angel marked empty earth. No one had found their bodies.
The stones were carved by magic, Willow determined that they actually be marked for the people they represented. There was some sort of joke, death knell humor, Faith thought, over B's stone. She still remembered Xander and Willow bickering back and forth about some sort of legend that should go on it, something about saving the world. Willow had laughed, then cried, then laughed again. But Angel's gang wasn't too up on even Giles being buried there, much less B and Dawnie having stones with Angel and Connor. Wes had been the one to make peace, insisting quietly that they would work together from now on anyway and that the monuments would reflect it.
Whatever. Faith just knew that Angel's gang didn't come out to the stones with the Sunnydale folk and Wes rode somewhere in the middle, like on a seesaw. She didn't envy him.
Willow knelt down, spreading her hands over the soil. A warm blue light flowed from her fingers, soaking into the ground. Xander coughed, hunching his shoulders. "Sorry," he muttered. Faith gave him a faint smile, tucking her hand through the crook of his elbow. He squeezed his elbow against his side, pressing some warmth back into Faith's fingers and they both turned their attention back to Willow's magic.
The flowers grew, a riot of colors, too rich and bright for a cold December day. Faith couldn't name all the kinds, she wasn't even sure of some of the colors, only that the scent was pure and heady. Wesley took a gulp of the sweet air and sneezed, shaking his head. "Bless you," Xander said automatically. Faith reached out to Wes, catching hold of his heavy sweater to drag him closer. He sniffled and gave her a miserable glance. The poor guy was allergic to flowers though he wouldn't have stayed away on the anniversary of the battle.
Willow rose to her feet and backed into Wesley's arms. He held her gently, as if she were something fragile. While she'd never been quite the same since the backlash of magic in that last, worst battle, she still was strong. The fact that she was here today, using her magic to grow the flowers that now carpeted ground before the five stones proved it. The fact that they were still alive, that they could be here to mourn the loss of their friends meant something else.
"I guess we should say something?" Xander asked, breaking the whining silence. He glanced over at them all. "Shouldn't we?"
Pulling a little free of Wesley, Willow stood in front of
the monuments. "Um," she said. "Hi, guys.
We wanted to come and say we still miss you. It's been hard since you went away but we're doing okay." Her hand drifted behind her and Wesley took
it. "Pretty good. Oh," she bounced a little on her feet, the
wind thoroughly messing her short red hair in its enthusiasm, "we managed to
take care of a gorgon the other day. We
didn't lose anyone, either. We burned
the head, too dangerous to even bury it, you know. It was really creepy, too, with all those snakes."
"Not at all a voluptuous woman with snake hair," Xander said. Faith squeezed his elbow. "What? It's true. She was ick-worthy."
"Now," Wesley said, sounding very pompous and Watcher-y, "the gorgon isn't supposed to be a voluptuous woman."
"Oh, yeah? How come they always look that way in the books?" Xander turned to look at Wesley.
"Because they know that young men with the hormonal urges of tomcats might retain the information more if there's a picture to ogle next to the words?"
Willow spun around, ready to get in on this when suddenly the world twisted just a little and Anya stepped out of a swirl of magic. "Oh, what a surprise," she said, her eyes rolling, "you're fighting, just when I have information that could be important."
Faith rocked back on her left foot. Magic always took her unawares. Seemed sneaky. Better to get it all out in the open, a straight up and up fight. Not that she couldn't fight dirty, hell, that was her life but Anya's magic, something Willow told her was brought back when the dimensions fell apart, was freaky-weird. The fact that a nice-looking demon like Anya had once been Xander's girl was even stranger, though.
"Important? Important, how?" Willow asked, reaching out to Anya but stopping, glancing back towards the other three. Wesley lowered the finger he had been shaking at Xander in an effort to make his point and Xander closed his mouth with a snap.
"Yeah," Faith said, squaring her shoulders. "Something big?"
"Something bad?" Xander asked.
"If you'd just let Anya speak," Wesley said impatiently.
She smiled charmingly. "I have to say that you British men are always so polite."
"Can we make with the four-one-one, Anya?" Faith asked, stomping her feet. She couldn't feel them anymore. "It's damn cold out here."
"Humans. So frail," Anya said with a sigh. "All right. Why don't we go," she glanced around, looking for a suitable place and not seeing any, "back to the hotel. The others might want to know this, too."
Reining in her frustration, Faith nodded. "All right. We'll meet you there." She watched as Anya twisted the magic of the world and disappeared through it. "Let's get moving," she said, "We're burning daylight."
"Oh, I know that one," Xander said, raising a hand. "John Wayne. The Cowboys."
Faith shook her head, a snicker escaping before she could stop it. Sometimes, Xander reminded her of Mayor Wilkins with his enthusiasm. She never mentioned it, no one had liked the Mayor but her but she'd loved him the way she now loved these people. "Let's just get back to the hotel before Anya decides we need a little help getting there." She leaned down to pick up the crossbow at her feet, making sure the quiver was sitting nicely on her hip. They all followed her lead, Wesley patting the sword on his hip, Xander hefting his double-barrel shotgun, loaded with wooden pellets and silver and Willow, with her own crossbow. Faith would've liked it if they all had distance weapons but Wes' aim was terrible, even with his glasses. He made up for it with hand-to-hand skills to almost rival hers. She met each of their eyes, confirming their readiness to leave and she motioned Xander into point position. She'd take the back of the line and they'd walk on back to the hotel.
If they were lucky, someone wasn't looking for them. A grin slithered across Faith's mouth. Then again, if they were lucky, someone was. Following Willow's bright head through the cemetery, Faith glanced overhead, checking automatically for dragons or other flying things. Never knew when one of them would attack, either.
"Oh, the fun of it all," she muttered under her breath and picked up her pace a little. Walking wasn't so hard, she'd gotten used to it a long time ago, even before Sunnydale, patrolling at night, killing vampires, fighting demons. Before the world as they knew it ended, four years ago, it seemed there were more cars than people. Now, the only ones that ran were those built without computer chips. Those old monsters from the seventies and before, heavy as tanks and sometimes equipped like them, those were the cars out on the road when gas could be scrounged. Angel's car, the GTX, was hidden away carefully along with a store of fuel for emergencies. People moved around now on bicycles, on foot, in carriages or rickshaws, pulled by other people or demons or sometimes even horses. You wanna fly across country? Dragons might take you, for a price. Or a really good wizard could zap you where you wanted to go…if you were willing to take a risk with teleportation. Anya might take you, if she liked you that particular day. And if you had the money and were willing to run the risk, there were trains, old coal burners that were dragged out of somewhere that still ran the tracks. Faith was just as happy keeping both feet on the ground. At least she knew where she was going and could make the decisions that way. And, sure, it meant that Angel Investigations and the Scoobies were kinda stuck in one place but that wasn't necessarily a bad thing, was it? If anyone wanted them, they'd make sure of a way to bring the troops where they needed to be.
"Earth to Faith," Willow called from in front of her, waiting at the cemetery gates. "C'mon, we don't want to keep anyone waiting." She waved her hand. Beyond the gates lay the city of angels, demons and people Faith sometimes wished she didn't know. And the memories of those who'd fought to keep those people safe.
Faith twisted, looking back towards the flowers mounded across the ground and nodded. "See ya guys," she said, and ran to catch her friends.
* * *
The room was cold and dark, lit by torches and candles, bringing to mind a world ancient even when Angel was human. Trophies hung on the walls, skins and heads of animals and creatures and some things that Angel didn't know the names of. A long rug lay on the floor, a path to a dais with a chair atop it. Two guards flanked the chair, one human, the other the blue furred demon who'd captured him in the sewer. Together they outmassed Angel nearly three to one. Drusilla minced in front of him, her high heels bringing the top of her head nearly to his shoulder, her mad smile bright when she glanced back at him. In her hands she held a silver chain, the links deceptively small, attached to the collar snapped around his neck. Wounds in the process of healing marked his bare chest and back, more of Dru's little games. Holy water, crosses, heated metal; all scarred his flesh in the past two days since she'd caught him unaware. She'd lapped at his pain like it was the freshest blood, practically wallowed in it. She'd forced his flesh and ridden him until he was spent, then started all over again.
"Sweet Daddy," Drusilla purred at him over her shoulder, "you'll be good for your Dru, won't you?" Her mouth pulled into a wicked pout. "She can hurt you even more than I."
"Who, Dru?" Angel asked, sharpening his eyes, trying to see past the blaze of light ahead of him.
"Shh." One of her fingers pressed against her lips. "You'll find out." Tugging gaily on his chain, she skipped like a delighted child for a few steps, nearly dragging him off his feet. They reached the dais finally, Drusilla smiling cheerfully at the guards and hauling Angel off to the side. His own guards pushed him to his knees. Dru stroked his hair, plucking at the thick waves. "You'll be good for me, won't you, my Angel? Very good." She twisted her fingers deep into his hair and forced him to look up at her. "Or you'll be very bad."
A new voice echoed around the chamber, sounding hollow as it bounced against the stone. "I'm not sure which idea I like better." The woman swept in like a queen, her heels rapping somehow against the rug, her bearing as imperious as ever. She paused in front of Angel and Dru, her eyes sweeping over him like a slow stroke. "I must say, I didn't expect to see you again. But Drusilla kept saying you were out there. I finally let her have her way and look what a present she's brought back for me."
"Yes, a present," Drusilla said, releasing Angel's hair to clap her hands.
"Lilah." Angel let his head roll back to eye her. "Somehow, I'm not surprised you survived the End of Days."
She laughed shortly, tugging lightly at the form-fitting jacket she wore over a long skirt. "Maybe not, Angel. I'm a little surprised to see you, though. When you vanished at the battle, I assumed, obviously incorrectly, that you'd died." She leaned forward, her hands on her thighs. "Of course, you're already dead, so that's really semantics, isn't it?"
"What do you want, Lilah."
"Dru, why don't you go and bring our little surprise back here." Lilah straightened, folding her arms across her chest, her smile both secretive and triumphant.
"Oh, may I?" Dru leaned close to Angel, licking his cheek. "You'll like the surprise, Daddy." Her words were a cold caress against his skin. Bouncing upright, she handed the chain to Lilah in a ceremonial way and skipped off, out of the pool of light, vanishing almost instantly in the darkness. Faintly, Angel heard a door open and the soft thud of it closing behind Drusilla.
Lilah handed the leash to one of the guards with her, exchanging it for a long spear. "Did you ever think, Angel, that maybe it's all about what you want, not what I want?" She twirled the shaft of the spear in her hands lightly, her grip showing some familiarity with the weight and heft of the weapon.
Angel felt a worm of fear clutching in his stomach. Buffy, he thought in mourning then resigned himself to the game. "I thought we discussed this the last time I saw you, Lilah," he said, "how particularly unhappy you made me."
Grinning, she swiped out with the butt end of the spear, knocking him across the cheek and sending him sprawling. "But here you are," she said, "alive. Well, as alive as you can be and still be a vampire." She leaned on the staff, watching him with a coldly amused smile. "How is it that another vampire became human and you didn't?" Her eyes widened when he rocked back in surprise. "Didn't you know, Angel?"
Angel got back to his knees, trying to cover his mistake. Never let Lilah get the upper hand. He knew that. "Hadn't heard those rumors, Lilah," he said.
"Oh, they're fact. I've done my research." She shrugged slightly. "I guess it doesn't really matter, does it? I mean, you becoming human, you'd have a lot less interest to me." Her smile became more predatory. "And trust me, Angel, you want me to keep my interest."
"So you can torture me?" Angel asked, "or let Dru do it?" He glanced at his captors insolently. "It'll get old fast, Lilah. You don't have the taste for torture that I do."
She grabbed his chin, quick as a striking snake, squeezing the bones tightly. "You don't have any idea what tastes I have, Angel," Lilah hissed. Angel met her blue eyes steadily. "I've changed since you and I last crossed paths." She pushed him back and stepped away, using the spear to gesture around the room. "Don't you see, Angel? Wolfram and Hart fell in the battle. We were supposed to come out on top. The senior partners were supposed to make sure of that." She turned back to him, a smile fixed firmly in place, the hem of her dress whispering around her ankles. "But the apocalypse that happened wasn't the one we were planning on. We weren't set up in place just yet." Cocking her head to one side, she said, "So we lost just as much as you did."
"Somehow, I doubt that," Angel said and earned a cuff from one of his captors. Picking himself back off the floor, he twitched his shoulders.
Lilah prowled around him slowly. "You'd think that, wouldn't you, but we were supposed to rule the world. Well, at the right hand of the senior partners, that is. But Darkness – you do know who I mean, right? That irritating demon that appeared in the same place as your son – and the First Evil really screwed us over. They were wild cards, acting together. If we'd had word of their plans earlier, they would've been nullified. As it was," she shrugged, just in the corner of his eye, "we lost. Or some of us did." She paused directly behind him, reaching out to tousle his hair. "Magenta isn't really you, Angel," she said. "I think I prefer your natural color. Oh, I understand why you changed it, you went into hiding." Her fingers, cool for a human but still warm to Angel, trailed down his neck and brushed over his shoulders. He remembered Buffy's touch, so long ago, it seemed. If only they'd taken the time for that last dance. "I don't exactly understand why," Lilah went on. "I mean, you had everything you wanted, right? Cordelia Chase, your son," she laughed suddenly, "maybe you would've had a grandchild, from what I understand happened between those two." Her fingers dug into a wound, making Angel gasp and wince in pain. "You did know, didn't you? While you and your little playmates were out trying to stop Darkness, your girl was boning your son."
"I know," Angel hissed, tossing a furious glance over his shoulder. "I knew all about it."
"Didn't it make you angry?" Lilah asked sweetly, her fingers trailing over the Celtic tattoo on his right shoulder blade, then over the newer one, on his left. "Didn't it make you want to kill them both?"
"No," Angel said through gritted his teeth as Lilah probed another wound.
Her fingers dug in as she leaned over his shoulder to speak directly in his ear. "Don't lie to me, Angel."
Angel gasped, trying to will away the pain, to concentrate on anything but the pain Lilah was inflicting. His world narrowed down to the pain in his shoulder and his body became one wince, trying to relieve the agony.
Lilah stepped out from behind him, running her hand around to his mouth. Angel tried to avoid her but she caught his lip in her gored fingers, twisting it sharply. "See?" she asked softly, leaning in again, "it doesn't pay to lie." Spinning away, she tossed the spear back to a guard and walked out of the pool of light. Angel tried to focus himself by breathing as he tracked Lilah to a table with a ewer and a bowl, an attendant waiting patiently to pour rose water – he could smell it over his own blood – over Lilah's hands and towel them dry. Clean up completed, she sauntered back, rising onto the dais and sitting in the chair. "Now, Angel, I'll ask my question again. Didn't it make you angry," she dropped her elbows on her knees and laced her fingers together loosely, looking for all the world like an interested aunt, "to know Cordelia was fucking your son?"
Exhale and, "Yes," he said softly, thinking back to that time, the utter despair he felt. The demon Lilah called 'Darkness" had nearly killed his friends and while he dodged fireballs from the sky, trying to get to them to make sure they were safe, they laid tangled together. Angel didn't blame them, not really, not anymore. Cordelia had…not been in love with him and Connor seemed to have adored her. When he'd finally managed to limp back to the hotel, wanting only to lick his wounds, he'd found the unexpected message on the answering machine – Buffy's voice, clearly worried. "It's time, Angel. We're on our way. Just hold on."
"See?" Lilah asked, dragging him back to the present. "That was so much easier, wasn't it?" She crossed her legs, swinging her dangling foot lightly. "Drusilla has such a taste for torture, doesn't she? All those wounds."
As if the sound of her name conjured here, Drusilla pranced back into the room. "The surprise is coming," she said, her voice low and mysterious. "All special, gift wrapped for my Daddy."
"We were just talking about you, Dru," Lilah said. Her expression was patronizing as she asked, "When you were having fun with Angel, did you take advantage of him?"
Drusilla giggled. "He was so cross with me, Daddy was." Her lower lip slipped out into a pout. "Used to love watching me punish my sweet Spike. Gave me special presents. Told me I was a good girl." She purred, one hand sliding from her collarbone down over her breasts to the cleft of her legs. "Mm, so good." Her pointed tongue passed over her lips and she turned her sparkling eyes to Angel. "A part of him still likes it," she said cheerfully, sidling up to him. Her fingers slid over his shoulders. "You crave it, don't you, my Angel?" Dru leaned over him, nipping at his earlobe. "Feel like you should be punished for being naughty."
"Even if we like you best that way," Lilah chimed in.
"I don't do naughty any more," Angel said dryly and winced when Drusilla bit his ear hard.
"Bark like a dog," she said sweetly, "Grr-rowf. Grr-rowf." She whined when he didn't obey. "Be my puppy? I'll be your bit-"
"Dru," Lilah said forcefully. She wagged a finger at the mad woman. "Angel doesn't like that kind of language. Do you, Angel?"
"Only when describing you, Lilah."
The cuff came from behind him, rocking him nearly off his knees. Angel landed on his hands, blinking back the stars. Lilah waited for him to get back up before she said, "Be careful, Angel. My men are loyal, a hell of a lot more loyal that Cordelia was to you." She smiled like a knife's edge. "Oh, sorry, bringing up bad memories, wasn't I?"
Angel's jaw flexed though he said nothing. Dru shook a finger at him. "Careful, Daddy. I want more fun with you." She swayed her hips suggestively.
"You'll have it, Dru," Lilah said. One of her shoulders lifted in a shrug. "So will I. Maybe not immediately, no, but still." Her smile became more bitter. "I mean, you have so much to live for, don't you?" She climbed off the dais and stood in front of him again, grabbing his purple hair to force his head back.
"What do you know about it?" Angel asked. Might as well play along. It couldn't hurt as long as he didn't give anything away about Buffy.
"The Queen of swords knows you heart, knows your part," Drusilla sing-songed. "Out of death, she made life. Sweet, sweet life, a little piece of bait, one, two truffles to lap the filling out of."
"I don't understand half of what she says," Lilah said to Angel, her fingers twisting into his hair painfully. "But that's all right. She's obedient, in her own way. And she's good for giving me hints on the future."
"Let me give you one," Angel said. "I'm going to kill you."
"Ah-ah-ah," Lilah said, "no threats or I won't show you your treat."
"You have nothing that would interest me, Lilah."
Drusilla clapped her hands and chortled. "Oh, Daddy, if you only knew."
Lilah released his head, taking a step away. "I suppose that could be true," she said, turning her back on him, a flagrant challenge to his inability to attack. "But I really doubt it." Raising her voice, she said, "Corchent, please bring in the other guests, will you? And Dorshil, maybe you'd better tighten your hold on that chain." She nodded as the blue furred demon wrapped the small silver links around its wrists, jerking Angel's neck in the process. "Probably a good thing you can't breathe, Angel." Lilah smirked.
The door opened again and Angel could hear something enter the room; the strange rhythm of the demons' pulse, the more familiar two-beat of human heartbeats. There were two of them, two humans, the stink of their fear making an appearance before Angel could turn to see them. Lilah waved the others closer, into that pool of light.
"I'm so glad to see you," she said, even as the pair were knocked to their knees. "Are you being treated all right?"
"You bitch," a girlish voice spat out, raising the hackles on the back of Angel's neck. He leaned his weight against the chain only to have Dru haul him back into place.
"I am continuously amazed at your manners," Lilah said charmingly.
"We're prisoners."
Angel jerked at the constraints Dorshil put on him, trying hard to verify with sight what his ears were telling him.
"Not prisoners, not really. You're my guests." Lilah smiled at them. "You have no idea how dangerous it is out there in the great big world." She lifted her head and waved at Angel languidly. "You could ask him, I suppose." Folding her arms, she rocked back on one heel. "What do you think, Angel?"
"Angel?" The girlish voice dropped to a near whisper, so familiar, so teasingly, achingly familiar and suddenly, she broke away from Lilah and her captor, flinging herself across the small space to crash into him.
Angel stared down at her in shock, his arms automatically coming up, nearly wrapping around her. The scent that rose from her was not quite familiar, not quite…right but she drew back, her blue eyes full of tears that streamed down her face. "Oh, Angel, I knew you'd come. I knew it. I told Connor that you wouldn't leave us here -"
"D-Dawn?" His voice sounded strange and squeaky to his own ears but he barely noticed, his concentration focused on the other human heartbeat in the room besides Lilah's, beating rapidly and strong, and suddenly the boy broke away from his captors as well, swarming across the room and joining Dawn in Angel's arms.
"Dad," he said, Connor said, pressing his face into Angel's shoulders. The tears stung the wounds but Angel didn't care, he couldn't, not while these two were as close as flesh. He wrapped them in an embrace, kissing the tops of their heads, their arms tight around him, Dawn babbling in relief at his appearance, Connor just hanging on.
"It's sweet, isn't it, Dru?" Lilah asked, her tone sounding like she believed it anything but.
"My little brother is with our Daddy again," Drusilla cooed.
Angel raised his head from theirs and met the ex-attorney's hard eyes. Unconsciously, he loosened his grip, getting ready for the attack. Lilah cocked her head to one side, sweeping a strand of hair behind her ears. "Don't try it, Angel," she said casually. "You can't break that chain. It's made from, well, how does that go again? Fishes' breath, bird spittle, a woman's beard, the meowing of a cat, sinews of a bear and mountain roots."
"Fenris' chain," Angel breathed.
"I see you know the reference. Good for you." She walked a little closer. "But I'm afraid I'm going to have to break up this family moment." Lilah gestured and the guards appeared to haul the children back, breaking their grips on the vampire. Dawn struggled, her voice rising into a shriek while Connor fought against them silently, his teeth showing. Neither did any good against their captors, great hulking things even bigger than the furry Dorshil, who held them implacably.
"Aw," Drusilla said, "tears like stars falling." She minced towards Dawn, reaching out a slender finger to trace Dawn's cheek. The girl jerked away, her blue eyes furious.
"Don't you touch me," she said, her voice low and cold.
"Be good," Drusilla said, tapping her cheek. "Or else we won't serve you tea."
"Keep your hands off her," Connor snapped, flinging himself against the grip of his guardian. His slight weight did nothing to break that grasp, though he didn't relent, his hair flowing around his face as he struggled with his keeper.
"So valiant, don't you think, Angel?" Lilah tapped the corner of her mouth with a manicured fingernail. "He really does have 'hero' written all over him." She stepped in front of the pair of teenagers, her height enough to dwarf both the kids and Drusilla. None of them seemed to notice. "If you're a good little boy and girl, I'll let you have more time with your favorite vampire, soon. If you're bad, well, you won't get a chance to."
The growl rose from Angel's throat before he could stop it. "Hurt either of them, Lilah -"
She laughed, a tinkling sound like breaking glass as she glanced over her shoulder. "Hurt them? Angel, they're my insurance policy. As long as I have them, I know you'll be good." She flashed her teeth in a nasty smile. "As long as I have them, I know you won't try to escape without them. And I might be willing to make a deal with you."
"What kind of deal?"
Lilah spoke to Connor and Dawn's guards. "All right, take them back. You kids be good, you hear?"
"What kind of deal?" Angel asked, trying to keep from lunging after Connor's retreating form. "Connor! Dawn!" They struggled to return to him, throwing themselves against the grips their captors held them with. He could smell Dawn's tears from here, hear Connor's heartbeat increase as he fought against the demon that held him implacably. Both of them were nearly carried through a door that slammed shut behind them, cutting off Dawn's wail and Connor's furious shouting. "Connor!"
"Aw," Lilah said, stepping in between him and the door his son and Buffy's sister had vanished through. "Isn't that sweet. I guess blood is thicker than, well, masculine urges."
He forced his gaze to meet hers, seeing her through a red-tinged haze that let him know the demon's face was firmly in place. "Lilah, if you hurt either of them," Angel began through sharp vampire teeth.
"You'll what, Angel? Kill me? Take it out on me in kind?" Lilah shrugged. "They've been very well cared for, since I brought them back. That little scroll, remember, that we used to raise Darla? Guess what, it works on more than just vampires."
"You wouldn't have brought them back for some reason," Angel snarled. "What is it?"
"Oh, now that would be telling," Lilah said and laughed again as he growled. "Careful, Angel. Don't get all 'grr' with me. I have what you want and you shouldn't forget it." She snapped her fingers. "Drusilla, why don't you take him to that nice little room with the easterly facing windows. I'm sure he'd like it there."
"Lilah," Angel snapped.
"No, Angel," she said. "Don't forget who's in charge here. It isn't you." She waved an imperious hand and Dorshil tugged at the chain.
"Come along, Daddy. We'll have fun." Dru pouted at the expression on his face. "I know what would make you smile," she said, her fingers walking along his shoulders. "A hot bath, sweet blood and a long rest with me." Her nails brushed over the tattoo on his left shoulder blade. Drusilla dropped back with a shriek.
"What is it, Dru?" Lilah asked, rolling her eyes in boredom.
"Those eyes, looking at me," Drusilla said, pointing at the tattoo. "She's there, like an owl, watching, always watching." The words snarled in her throat, coming out as tattered whines.
"Eyes?" Lilah, curious, drifted around Angel.
He glanced away as she went past, already knowing what she'd see: a pair of large eyes fringed with lashes, framed by arched eyebrows, the tattoo seeming as fresh as the night it was done. He remembered the pain that accompanied the needle pricks, the combined scents of incense and blood; the chanting. Her voice, soothing until it was her turn under the needle, then his murmurs as he tried to offer her comfort. Her fingers had clutched his so hard, her head thrown back in agony. When the work was completed, he'd laved the blood off her shoulderblade with his tongue, more cooling than a compress. The words echoed in his head, "Where she treads, nothing will ever grow again."
Lilah's voice snapped him back to the present. "This is new. I don't remember anything about you getting a second tattoo, Angel."
"Seems you don't know everything after all," Angel said, forcing himself to sound cheerful.
"Maybe not." Lilah pushed the back of his skull, tilting his head forward to get that much more light on the inkwork. "This is lovely, Angel, you'll have to tell me who did this."
"Oh, it's pretty expensive," he said, rolling his eyes, almost able to see his antagonist. "I don't think you'd have the stomach to pay the price."
"See, that just whets my interest," Lilah said, tracing the outline of one of the eyes with her fingernail. "And Dru's reaction? Just brings it to a fever pitch." She nabbed his ear in her fingers and twisted it, hard. "So, who's eyes are they, Angel?"
"The Slayer's," Dru cried out before he could speak. "The Slayer's eyes."
* * *
