Chapter 5:

PULSE

He said don't bring tomorrow

To justify tonight

The moon is full – the stars are bright

And the sky is a poisonous garden tonight.

Concrete Blond – The Sky is A Poisonous Garden

The interior of the Hyperion was always chilly now.  Though they worked hard to make it otherwise, firewood and other combustibles were often too costly to heat a building as large as the old hotel.  Still, it was home and Wesley entered the lobby with a faint feel of relief sinking into his bones.  He set aside his sword in the case nearest the door.  He'd never quite gotten out of the habit of that, leaving the weapons where anyone could reach them.  Faith always secreted at least one on her body and, as she said, one under her pillow since she didn't sleep "with a stitch on".  Willow and Xander kept their weapons in their own rooms, both claiming it was better to be safe than sorry.  The three sisters' magic still kept out undesirables, though in this day and age, it was sometimes difficult to decide who might be evil and who might be asking for assistance. 

Cordelia impatiently tapped a pencil on what appeared to be a ledger and on the other side of the room, Anya had her arms crossed.  Between them were Charles, Fred and Lorne, as well as a few of Charles' gang.  The tension stretched between Anya and Cordelia like a thick thread, making the others uneasy.  Xander, either through ignorance or oblivion, Wesley couldn't make out which, sauntered through that double-edged glare, clapping his hands.  "So," he said loudly and cheerfully, "what have you got for us, An?"

The demon Anyanka, lovely in her human form, rolled her eyes briefly at her one-time lover.  "It certainly took you enough time to get back here."

"Some of us had to walk," Faith said, slinging off her crossbow and setting it on the staircase.

"Willow could've teleported you," Anya said.

"Last time we tried that, we all had migraines for days," Willow said, shaking her head so her fluffy hair scattered around her shoulders.  "Not a good idea."

Anya sniffed but before she could vocalize an answer, Cordelia cut in.  "Can you please tell us what you found out?"  She widened her dark eyes at Anya, who sniffed again. 

"All right," she said huffily.  "But I hope you know I risked my life to get this information to you."

"So?  Spill it," Gunn said.  When Anya turned a glare his direction, he held up his hands placatingly.  "Just as soon as you want, that is."

Cordelia stomped across the room.  "Can you just get on with it?"  She swung a hand at the Pylean.  "You're a worse drama queen than Lorne."

"Um, cupcake?  I take exception to that," Lorne said, raising a finger and giving Cordelia a careful little grin.  "I'm much more a musical comedy type of guy."

Anya rounded on him.  "Oh, you are not," she snapped.  "Who had to have the sunlight just so before announcing that he'd found a mate?"

Wesley stepped between them all, raising his voice.  "All right.  All right," he said forcefully.  He turned slowly, fixing each of them with a sharp gaze.  "That's enough.  If we're going to continue to work together, as we have over the past four years and longer for some of us, we're going to have to put aside differences so that information can be exchanged."  He paused to fold his arms, making sure no one opened his or her mouth.  "All right.  Anya, if you would please proceed."

"Thank you, Wesley," she said, with a smile.  "I was minding my own business earlier today, sorting through the latest in the vengeance game.  Just for, you know, curiosity sake."  She shook her head.  "You wouldn't believe how many women still consider themselves wronged from the Troubles."  At the clearing of Wesley's throat, she nodded and went on.  "As I was saying, I was just doing what I'm supposed to do as a vengeance demon.  Which, of course I am."

"We know this part," Cordelia said, sinking heavily onto the couch. 

"Yeah, maybe you could skip the intro and go right into the important part," Gunn said.

"Do you want to hear this or not?" Anya asked.  "I could just as easily take this to someone else."

"Like someone else would care," Gunn said, almost under his breath.  Wesley caught his eye and frowned.  Gunn stared flatly back and turned away.  

"No, no, we want to know what's going on," Willow said, glancing around nervously.  "Don't we?"

"It's pretty gruesome," Anya said. 

"How gruesome?" Fred asked apprehensively.

"Well, for starters, the Red Baron's still alive."

"What?" Gunn nearly propelled himself out of his seat.  "I thought we'd gotten rid of him!"

"Obviously not," Anya said with a shrug.

"B-but we killed that demon," Willow said, her eyes shining wide.  "It went down and we set fire to it and everything."  She twisted around to stare at Wesley.  "Did you know about this?  Were there any signs?"

He spread his hands.  "I wasn't sure, Willow," he said.

"You could've got sure," Xander snapped. 

"People, people," Faith said, stepping down to join Wesley.  "We took out what we thought was the Red Baron.  We weren't right.  The demon was still one of the bad guys.  We still kept it from killing more people."

"She's got a point," Fred said, though she didn't sound quite convinced.

"And just a reminder, I'm not one of the bad guys," Anya said, lifting a hand and keeping it up.  "I'm your in on the demon front."

"Well, one of 'em at least," Lorne said, cocking his head to one side.  He grinned a little too broadly and nodded when Anya turned towards him.  "Why don't I just keep my mouth shut and let you finish telling us what you found out?"

"Thank you."  Anya walked slowly around the room.  "It seems, well, it's true as far as my source could tell, that the Red Baron's just been lying low.  Another body was found two days ago."  She rubbed her hands up and down her arms, scowling.  "It's cold in here.  Does it have to be so cold?"

"We can't afford to heat the place," Cordelia said.

"Maybe you should move."  Anya looked at the ceiling, wrinkling her nose. 

"We're staying," Cordelia said flatly, getting to her feet in case of a face-off.

"Whoa, ladies, hold on.  Maybe we should get back to the Red Baron," Xander said, stepping in between Cordy and Anya.  Wesley didn't envy him.  His attachment to each woman was well-known in the group and he hated to have them arguing.  "Right, Cordy?  Anya has information she went out of her way to bring to us.  So we'll be grateful." 

Cordelia allowed herself to be led back to the couch.  She flopped onto it gracefully, folding her arms and pouting.  Wesley had to remind himself that she was a mature woman at these times.  It sometimes seemed that she'd never gotten beyond the girl she'd been in high school. 

Xander turned back to Anya, his eyebrows lifting and a sweet, familiar smile offered to the vengeance demon.  "Okay, An, you had news?"

She pouted for a few seconds then threw her arms in the air.  "Oh, all right.  Because it's you." 

"We all appreciate your efforts, Anya," Wesley said. 

"You mean get on with it, don't you."  She nodded.  "All right.  Well, like I was saying, another body was found.  Same as the others, organs pulled out and missing.  The usual."

"Wicked on the visuals, Anya," Faith said as Fred made a face.  She still had problems with death, despite all she'd seen.   

"Do you really want to hear this?" Anya asked impatiently. 

"We do, really," Xander said placatingly, grasping her upper arms and squeezing them.  Gunn and Cordelia exchanged a glance, both of them sighing in near unison. 

"Well, all right," Anya said, patting Xander's chest.  She took a step away from him, breaking his grip gently and turned her attention to the others.  "As I was saying," she began again. 

Someone pounded on the lobby door.  Faith automatically snatched up her crossbow, training it across the room.  Gunn's team did the same, each of them readying their weapons.  Cordelia sighed, folding her arms.  Gunn rose to his feet, crossing the lobby slowly.  "Looks like some little goblin," he raised his voice to say.  He swung open the door.

The demon entered cautiously, its black eyes huge in its grey face.  "Gargoyle," it corrected and took a step backwards upon seeing the weaponry.  "Holy sh-" 

"I'm never going to get this finished," Anya said with a flap of her arms, dropping into a chair and sulking.

"Who are you?" Gunn asked. 

"What do you want?"  Faith's question came nearly at the same time.

The gargoyle flinched, its wings unfurling in its aggitation.  "He told me you're the good guys," it said.

"Depends on who you ask," Willow said, stepping into view. 

The gargoyle stared at her unblinkingly.  "Guess you're right about that one." 

"So, you're here for what reason again?" Gunn asked, cocking his head to one side, his lip curling in disgust. 

The gargoyle drew itself up, its wings lifting.  "I was sent here."

"Sent here?" Xander repeated. 

"By whom?" Wesley asked, starting across the lobby. 

"Willie," the gargoyle said.

"Willie?"  Wesley ran through the names in his head and Willie wasn't one he recognized. 

"Oh, please, can we get on with this," Cordelia all but moaned. 

"Maybe it's important," Fred said.

"My news is important," Anya muttered to her hands. 

"Anya, please," Wesley said, trying to hold onto the fraying reins of his temper. 

She sighed, a terribly put-out sound but made no other gesture of her own impatience.  Wesley turned back to the gargoyle and said, "This Willie sent you to us.  What is the reason?"

"Oh."  The gargoyle flipped its wings.  "Uh, there were two bodies in back of the bar.  A human and a Fiach.  Both of 'em gutted, that crown and handprint on the wall next to them."

"The Bloody Red Baron," Fred said, her face paling.  She sank onto the couch with Cordelia.  "How terrible."  Cordelia made a sound and Fred patted her arm absently.

"Told you he wasn't dead," Anya muttered. 

"Yeah," the gargoyle said, shuffling from one clawed foot to the other.  "Willie, he said that you might be able to help.  Or something."

"We are interested," Wesley said carefully. 

"We'll check it out.  Where's this bar?" Faith asked, shifting the position of her weapon.

"You mean you don't know?" Cordelia asked, not quite under her breath.  Faith fixed her with a glare that the brunette ignored.  Wesley felt the ever-present tension between Cordelia and the Sunnydale women rise. 

"Perhaps you can take us there," he said, trying to bring the focus of the others back around to what was important. 

"You mean walk?"  The gargoyle's bald head wrinkled in thought or concern, Wesley couldn't tell which.  "I can't walk well.  I fly."  It flapped its wings once in emphasis. 

"Maybe you can tell us where the bar is," Faith said, glancing around at the others.  "We can make our own way there."

"Right, right," the gargoyle said, eyeing Gunn's men and their weapons.  It rapidly spit out an address and with poorly-hidden relief, scuttled out of the Hyperion to take to the air.  Faith followed it outside, tracking its ariel path then returned to the lobby, surveying all those within.

"Who's going?" she asked.  "'Cause it's about to get dark outside." 

* * *

"Tell me about the tattoo, Angel."  Lilah almost purred. 

"Why should I?" he asked, dodging the expected cuff from one of his captors.  The other kicked him in the ribs, knocking him to the floor.  Angel sucked in a deep breath, feeling the give in his rib cage.  He'd heal, the bones would mend.  It didn't mean it would be pleasant.

"See?" Lilah said, standing almost over him, her face seeming to float impossibly high above, framed in a rich golden brown halo.  Angel wondered incongruously who dressed her hair.  "Be polite."

Blinking, he slowly pushed himself back upright to a sitting position.  Dorshil roughly hauled him back to his knees, snapping the chain as he did.  As the ex-attorney prowled around him, Angel quickly assessed his wounds.  Drusilla hadn't fed him anything over the past two days and he'd need blood to heal, preferably before Lilah, Dru or one of their henchmen decided to play with him. 

Lilah stepped in front of him again, folding her arms in that elegant way she had  "Dru, why don't you like Angel's new tattoo?"

"She knows," Drusilla said, nearly spitting the words.  Her whine built to a crescendo, her fingers snarling in the air.  "She'll follow Daddy.  Like a dog on a lead and twice as nasty."  Her crimson lips drew back to show the white of her teeth.  "She'll kill to get to him, you, me."  Suddenly, her whole body went lax, as if she were a marionette and the puppet master cut her strings.  "She turns our family against us, Daddy."  Drusilla's voice was poignant, low and miserable.  "She spins her webs and hatred."  Dru spun, the huntress again, eyes and fangs gleaming, "All to trap me."

Her only reaction a raised eyebrow, Lilah watched the display.  "So, Angel," she said, when Dru left off her speech to mutter about the sun and the stars and clouds that ate them snick, snack, snap, "does the Slayer have a name?"  She smiled when he didn't answer.  "I know Faith has joined your little team of do-gooders.  So it has to be the other one."  Laying a finger against her cheek, Lilah tapped it against her skin.  "What was her name again?  Sunny?  Tiffy?  I know it brought to mind a little yappy dog.  Kathy?  No, that was your sister."  Her grin broadened, slithering across her face as Angel tried to keep any reactions from showing.  He knew she was playing and knew she knew.  "Oh, that's right.  Buffy."

Dru's wail was confirmation.  Lilah barely flicked a glance her way, her attention firmly focused on her prey.  "Buffy Summers.  The one who sent you to Hell.  The one who's blood you drank."  She paced in front of him, only going so far in either direction, as if tethered to him.  "You know we had operatives in Sunnydale watching her, don't you?  Once we found out exactly what she meant to you, we had to keep a close eye on her.  Never knew when she might be useful…or a detriment.  That pesky soul thing, well, if we'd gotten to you sooner, maybe you wouldn't have had to go to Hell at her hands."  She made a turn on her path.  "Wolfram and Hart were there when Mayor Wilkins tried to eat her.  We were there when you walked away.  We filmed you when you threatened her boyfriend.  We watched you comfort her at her mother's grave.  It was touching, Angel, really."  Her pacing slowed to punctuate her words, her gaze fixed on him and her smile becoming more cruel.  "We were there when you visited the gravesite.  'Buffy Summers.  She saved the world a lot.'  What sort of memorial is that?" 

Angel felt a growl rising unbidden, his body tensing.  He wanted to feel Lilah under him, taste her blood.  "Better than anything you'll ever get."

"Maybe."  Lilah paused in front of him again.  "Did you know we were there, listening in when you two met after she came back from the dead?"

"If you knew all that, it's funny that you didn't know what would happen when we met in that battle," Angel said.  Lilah flinched and he had to force himself not to gloat.  Score one for the good guys but she still held too many cards and was playing too close to her chest for him to figure out what she wanted with him.  Or why she'd bring back Connor and Dawn.  If it was them.  Now, without them in front of him, he wondered that their scents weren't right.  He pushed that question aside for now.  He had to get in one more dig at Lilah and her senior partners.  Try to rattle her cage.  "I guess that was one of those little unexpected things, huh?  Something your senior partners hadn't thought of."  Angel shrugged, smirking up at Lilah, letting his voice drop to nearly a whisper.  "The U.S. postal service."

"You were in contact," Lilah hissed, snapping upright, her eyes twin furies.     

"Their nasty souls braid together," Drusilla said suddenly, breaking into the conversation.   

Lilah didn't even look for his reaction to that, just turned towards the mad vampire.  "Really, Dru?"

She nodded solemnly, childlike in that instant. 

"So, Angel," Lilah wheeled slowly back towards him.  "What do you have to say to that?"

He didn't let his smirk falter.  "Maybe you should've done better research."

Her eyes widened then narrowed sharply.  Dorshil jerked the chain, dragging him to the ground before Angel could lunge to his feet and double blows fell almost before Lilah's command.  He felt more ribs break and blood ran anew from the wounds Drusilla had opened.  "Hurt him," Lilah said coldly and Dorshil and Corchent went about doing just that.  Somehow, Angel could hear Dru's laughter, her hands clapping as she cheered on the pair beating him then finally, everything went blessedly black.     

* * *

Dawn climbed on her bed, leaning back against the wall.  She folded her arms over her stomach, squeezing her eyes closed, trying to keep from crying.  Never let them see you cry, never, she told herself, rocking back and forth.  In the next room, she could hear things banging into the walls and on the floor.  She knew Connor was taking out his fury on the inanimate objects in his room.  At least they didn't hit back.  Another crash made her wince and she gulped before shouting, "Connor!  Cut it out!"

There was silence for a few seconds.  Dawn started counting in her head and got to twenty before she heard the soft creak of bedsprings being depressed and a faint thud as Connor fell back aginst the wall.  "Connor?" she asked, turning her head, the paint rough and cool against her cheek.  "Are you…" she swallowed, her throat too tight to let the words pass through. 

"Yeah, Dawn."  His voice cracked before he finished saying the two syllables. 

She closed her eyes, her fingers clenching in the fabric of her pants.  Angel, she thought, that was Angel.  She remembered the bulk of him from before, even beyond the pink hair and the wounds.  The scent of him, the coolness of his skin.  She couldn't doubt he was Angel.  "Connor," she said.

"My Dad."  His voice filtered through the wall brokenly and Dawn ducked her head at the pain in the words.  "He's here."

She turned, pressing her shoulder into the wall, flattening her palm on its surface.  Trembling, she said, "If he's here," her voice trailed off.

"Your sister."

"Yeah."  Dawn nodded slowly, the rough plaster abraiding her cheek. 

"He wouldn't let her die," Connor said.  He sounded strange, hoarse.  "He," there was a pause but Dawn didn't have time to wonder at it.  "He loved her."

"He loved you, too," Dawn protested, hoping it was true.  No, it had to be.  Angel would've never hoped for a child.  Vampires couldn't have kids.  Dawn knew it was one of the reasons he'd broken up with Buffy, or that's what Buffy'd written in her diary.  She pressed the heels of her hands into her eyes.  I will not cry, she told herself.  I will not cry. 

"I died," Connor said, his voice weirdly muffled. 

"He didn't let you die," Dawn said savagely.  Angel wouldn't do that.  He wouldn't let anyone die, not ever, not even when they deserved it, like Faith when she went bad and hurt them all so much. 

"You weren't there," Connor snapped.

"No, I was already dead," Dawn yelled back.  "Think, Connor, God, why don't you think?"  She rolled her head on the wall, swallowing down the sobs that threatened to escape her throat.      

There was a long space of silence between them then finally she heard a mumbled, "I'm sorry." 

Dawn wiped at her eyes futilely.  She felt like she was made of water, as much as she wanted to cry here.  "I accept your apology," she said, pleased that her voice didn't even shake. 

Connor wasn't finished though.  "He was protecting her," he said, "your sister.  She went down and he grabbed her and threw me his sword." 

"I don't," she shook her head.  "I don't remember that."

"You were dead by then."  He didn't say it to be mean.  It was the truth.  Still, the phrase made Dawn wince.  Buffy had watched her die.  She knew that.  She remembered the horror on her sister's face as the magic tore her to shreds.  Dawn was just glad she didn't remember the pain.  Surely it had been agonizing, going from being mortal back to the Key's original form.  Whatever that was.  "He told me to get back to the others," Connor said, breaking into Dawn's thoughts.  "I didn't see the demon until it was too late."

They'd talked about it before, a little bit, what had happened in the battle.  How Dawn had sneaked off to follow Buffy; how Connor had tracked Angel.  They'd both been in the thick of it before anyone had noticed.  Connor had been, well, worried wasn't quite the right word for what he'd felt, watching Angel face Buffy but Cordelia had said it was likely that the Slayer would kill his father.  Dawn had rolled her eyes when Connor said Cordy's name.  She could barely recollect the other girl but what she did remember didn't support the gushy worship she heard in Connor's voice when he talked about Cordelia.  She did understand Connor's wanting to be part of the fight; after all, Buffy had just said that she had to kill Angel's son to keep all Hell from breaking loose.  Dawn had no problem with wanting to protect yourself.  She'd been begging to go on patrol for years now.  Er, then.  Whatever.  Dawn made a face at herself.  She remembered Connor in the battle, tucked up close to Angel, half-hidden behind the vampire's jacket that flared out like a cape.  She remembered Buffy, her blond hair whipping around her face, holding a sword in both hands, facing the only man she'd ever really loved. 

The fight started elsewhere, like they always did.  Dawn wasn't sure how they'd managed to end up in a theatre beneath the streets of L.A., buried for who knew how many years.  She had flashbacks to fighting in that pit when Willow tried to destroy the world, half expecting zombies to come out of the walls.  It turned out to be worse than that, or that's what Connor said but by the time the demons came through the dimensional tear, she was already gone.

Dawn wondered if it was how Buffy felt, coming back to life.  Except Buffy had to dig her way out of her coffin and Dawn woke up to find herself in a big wooden box guarded by demons, with a tall woman staring in at her.  It was her first vision of Lilah Morgan, who smiled down at her the way Anya smiled at money.  Lilah never told her why she'd been resurrected - another thing Dawn shared with Connor – only that she was disappointed for some reason.  Dawn thought she knew why.  She'd been brought back wrong.  They both had. 

Connor was the one to bring it up, after he'd tried to fight one of the demons holding him.  Dawn didn't know that he'd been super-strong, like Buffy, before he died.  But now he was just a normal guy, from what he said.  And as skinny as he was, Dawn was pretty sure that she could take him if she had to.  Her own difference was more frightening.  Connor talked about what it had been like in Heaven.  Well, not really talked about it, only said that it was wonderful, just like some ranch in Utah.  She didn't have any memories of that, not of seeing Mom or Grandma Heather.  Not of Hell either, thank God.  But Dawn's last memory was of Buffy's face, watching in horror as she died.  Dawn wasn't sure what that was supposed to mean but she thought she might. 

Even if it really, really scared her. 

What if she didn't have a soul? 

Dawn shivered, grinding her teeth together to keep them from chattering.  Oh God, she prayed silently, oh God.  Please help me make sense of this. 

* * *