OK, so I was outside the other day, and I found Wesley floating around half-drowned in my garden pond. I've taken him in and intend to nurse him back to health, but I promise to take him to a rescue shelter when I'm finished with him so that he can be returned to his owner. As for the others, they're not mine either, so please don't sue me.

Again, a big thank you to everyone who has reviewed, I love you guys! And a special thanks to ForeverWes for giving the longest review so far… I've tried my best with the spelling mistakes today, so see what you think! Big smiles and hugs :)

PART 8.

Wesley knew what they were trying to do. After giving him a sound beating, the demon had left him were he lay, guarded by a couple of rough looking hire outs. The onslaught of pain had helped to clear his head and, by now, enough time had passed for most of the effects of the drugs to have worn off.

It had taken him a little while to work it out, but then, that was to be expected, seeing as how he wasn't exactly at his best at the moment. The short respite from his tormentor had given him a chance to think things through, not least of which was the question of where exactly he was.

It was hard to tell anything from the floor, but there were clues to be found, for what good they did him. Typical beige carpet, fake wooden panelling and shelving, the occasional unfriendly chair and desk, and a really big window framed by slatted shutter blinds. The view was unmistakable. LA at it's finest; high rise buildings with their multicoloured neon patches and glowing lights reaching up into the night sky. Emerald green glass and smooth, metallic veins giving it an unnatural coolness that shone out into the hot desert air.

It was beautiful, he had often thought that. Not like England though, of course. But you had to admire it for it's jagged unconventionality and complex structure of disharmony and contrast, each element refusing to conform and match with the other. It was intriguing.

Now, bound and gagged as he was, it seemed far more sinister and menacing. Watchful eyes hidden behind every pane and a concealed purpose lingering in silence, disturbed only by the occasional siren or irate motorist. He could still hear the gentle hush of the traffic, high up though he was. It flowed constantly, ebbing and swirling like some storm whipped ocean, waiting to swallow up the unsuspecting travellers that found themselves out of place on its surface.

This nightscape was shrouding the building he was in, protecting it from anyone who might wish to find him, making it blend in and seem normal. He knew that was not the case. This place was far from ordinary, he had realised that now. Only one firm in this whole city would combine evil demonic beings with the tacky furnishings of some wanna-be movie set office. Wolfram and Hart.

Who else? He guessed he had it coming. It was his turn now. Even Cordelia had endured the interference of this company in her life. He didn't kid himself, though; it wasn't because he was special that he had been selected for this particular scheme. It was all some big plot to get at Angel, at the end of the day, and he would just have to play his part in it.

He'd already figured out that they were behind the spell. They obviously knew more about the effects it would have than any of them, and now they were reaping the results. They thought that they could beat him into submission, maybe push him over the edge and see what would happen. He knew better than that.

He'd already been blown up, tortured by a very maladjusted rouge slayer and had his insides ripped out by a bullet from a zombie cop, no less, as well as come out alive after the everyday dealings of his job. If he could survive a run in with Cordelia after having unintentionally criticised her fashion sense, he could survive anything. After all, what's a little pummelling when you've endured the horrors of the American version of 'English tea'?

Maybe it was just because he had automatically gone into Watcher-mode, but he felt it best to keep a bit of humour, considering the circumstances. They were trying to intimidate him using force, and he couldn't let that work. What was it the book said? Extremes of emotion or something? Anyway, all he had to do was remember his training for this sort of thing. There was a time when that wouldn't have made any difference. He'd have cracked straight away and told them everything, probably given them Angel, Cordelia, her parents, Gunn's Auntie's pet cat, whatever. But he had something to prove now. He owed them and he wouldn't let them down, not if he could help it.

He could feel his strength returning now, and he lay perfectly still to avoid drawing attention. There wasn't much he could do without the aid of his hands, but at least now he would have a shot at running…probably. That's if the opportunity even presents itself. He'd better just wait and see what they were going to try next. If only he could be left alone…

The office door opened without so much as a squeak, letting in a sliver of illumination from the corridor. Giant feet made their way around the desk to reveal the demon, back for round two.

"Here we go again", Wesley thought to himself as the demons tree-trunk arm hauled him up by his neck. He grit his teeth against the discomfort as he was lifted into the air, his feet dangling inches from the ground, and then thrust cruelly into a chair in the middle of the room. He gasped for breath but didn't give the demon the pleasure of seeing him show any fear. He collected himself and lowered his head, glaring at the demon through dangerous eyes.

 He didn't have to wait long before the door opened again, admitting some woman in annoyingly loud and clicking high-heeled shoes. It was only when she came closer that he recognised her as one of the lawyers they dealt with on a regular basis.

She grinned mockingly at his appearance and gestured for the guards to leave.

"I'd offer you my hand but you don't seem at liberty to take it", she chimed, looking pleased with herself. "I'm Lilah Morgan, attorney with Wolfram and Hart."

I know who you are.

"I trust you're already well acquainted with my assistant…" She motioned towards the door and another figure walked in, although with much less confidence and assurance than the previous. Wesley squinted and struggled to see the face of the newly introduced person; anxious to see whom she was referring to.

Nothing could prepare him for what he saw. He may be as good as half-blind at long distances without his glasses, but there was no mistaking this person.

Lindsey McDonald. Except, it didn't quite seem like him. He was different somehow, the blank expression on his face dispelling any of the arrogance and smugness he usually carried. He didn't say a word, or even look directly at anyone. He just entered the room and stood where Lilah pointed, keeping his head down.

He looked almost as bad as Wesley felt, his clothes and hair were limp and dirty, and all of the colour had drained from his face. His eyes were vacant and dull, mirroring the emptiness that had hold of his existence. This wasn't the man he knew.

Lilah had watched the surprised look permeating Wesley's features, and smiled to herself as she approached.

"I can see what you're thinking", she said, "You want to know how it is that Lindsey is back. You thought you'd seen the last of him, didn't you? Well, you should know something about this little firm of ours. A contract is for life, and no one goes back on their word. The senior partners don't look kindly on deserters, even those so inconsequential as Lindsey here. He thought he could escape by running off into the sunset where no one would ever find him." She laughed and patted Lindsey on the cheek.

"Nobody gets away that easily. Oh and, by the way, let this be a lesson to you, friend. If you're thinking of running, don't bother. I promise you that you'll not make it past the end of the corridor."

She walked around to the back of Wesley's chair and leant over his shoulder, removing the ragged cloth from his mouth. She waited for a second or two, expecting him to speak. If she thought she was going to hear him beg for release or ask her to explain her evil plan, she had another thing coming.

"Well? Don't you want to protest at your ill-treatment, tell me that I'm never going to get away with this or that you'll see me in hell before you spill anything?"

Absolutely not. Besides, that would be way too cliché.

"Aren't you going to ask what all this is about? I'm sure you want to know."

He remained silent. If the Watcher training had taught him anything, it was never to give away your emotional state, and he didn't trust himself to keep a steady voice right now. He just stared ahead, refusing to give any sort of response that she could use to her advantage.

It seemed as though she had expected that, and she leant back with an unnecessary sigh.

"You know, you're only making this more difficult for yourself. You don't want my demon friend here to start on you again, do you? Oh well, more fun for me. I doubt you'll be much of a hard nut to crack, you always were a bit of a loser."

She strolled round to the front of the chair, and Wesley looked at her with curiosity.

"Oh yes, we know all about you, and you're little demon busting friends too. There's not a thing about any of you that we haven't got on file. What we don't hear from our various sources, we have our psychics look into. How do you think we found out about you're little secret when even you didn't know about it? Bit slow on the uptake there, aren't ya, Wes?"

He couldn't help a slight frown for that last comment. It disturbed him immensely to discover that Wolfram and Hart were equipped to find even the most intimate details out about a person, and he wondered what else they knew that could pose a threat to Angel.

Seeing that she was having an effect, Lilah moved closer and whispered in his face.

"I know all about you and your pathetic life. Have to say, not very impressed." She backed away again and began circling, a little smirk on her face. God, she loved her job.

"Not that you'll have to worry about any of that soon. We're going to make something out of you, something to be proud of. All that waste of time before now won't matter; you can put it all behind you, start again. You'll forget all the pain and the heartache at the hands of you're good-for-nothing, so-called 'friends' and make something of yourself, instead of letting Angel overshadow you all the time. That's what you want, isn't it?"

He could feel himself flushing now, and that wasn't good. He knew she was making this up to get at him, but a little part of him somewhere must have felt touched, because her wind up was working. OK, so he was paranoid, but that doesn't mean that any of it is true. He just needed to stay calm and work through this. She'd get bored with her teasing soon enough.

"You know they don't really care about you, right? They're probably cursing you at this very moment for letting yourself get abducted. You can't even take care of yourself, Angel will have to come and rescue you, again. Give it up, Wesley, let it go. You can be better than this, and you know it."

"You're wrong…" Damn it. Had to open your big mouth.

"Oh, am I? You know it's true, you feel it. I can see it in your eyes. You're a liability to them, and Angel wants rid of you. Why do you think he never came to you at the hospital that time? He was glad you got shot, thought that maybe you'd do yourself a favour and go home. You're not cut out for any of this. They know it, you know it, even your father knew it…"

Lilah's smile widened. That hit a nerve. He was breathing heavily now, trembling with the effort to contain himself. Wouldn't be long now…

"Here, let me give you a little demonstration." She nodded at the eyeless demon that was standing next to her, and he swiftly dealt a blow to Wesley's side.

The pain was intense. Too winded to cry out, he doubled over and blinked through the tears, choking when he couldn't catch his breath. The demon placed a hand against his shoulder and pushed him back upright, stopping him from falling off the chair all together. It snarled menacingly at him, bearing its teeth and leering in his face.

"You see", Lilah continued, "You're weak. You can change that. Don't be a disappointment and a failure all your life, Wesley, let it all go. All the anger and the bitterness, I know you feel it." She paused, looking down at Wesley as he was wracked with painful sobs, praying that his guts weren't going to spill out everywhere and kill him, once and for all. This was too much for anyone, and he'd lost what hope he had of keeping a clear head.

When it seemed that he wasn't going to say anything, Lilah shrugged and turned her back on him for a moment, grinning to herself as she spoke.

"Maybe your father was right, you'll never amount to anything. You're a useless coward. You were never good enough for the Council, just like you were never good enough for daddy…"

Snap.

The demon let out an ear-piercing shriek as it was thrown across the room, smashing into the opposite wall with such force that the shelving fell down in pieces on the floor around it. Wesley rose smoothly from his chair, fury burning in his eyes.

"Ooops", Lilah cracked sarcastically, "That's done it…"

She backed away slightly as Wesley strode across to her, ready to do her some serious damage. She hesitated for a split second before shouting, "Now, Lindsey!"

The shorter man sprung forward with surprising speed, considering that he had previously stood statue-like in the corner, staring into space. He lashed out a hand and slapped something cold and hard onto the back of Wesley's neck, before he had a chance to throw him back.

As soon as the object made contact, it sent a searing jolt through his body, forcing him to the ground, writhing in agony. He'd have scrabbled around at the back of his head to get it off if he could have, but his hands were still tied behind his back. He screamed in protest at the cruelty, but it gained him no sympathy.

Lilah emerged from her protective hiding place and stood over him, smiling down coldly.

"Welcome to the family of Wolfram and Hart", She said.

                                                            *          *          *

They had made it this far, and they weren't going to give up now. Cordelia, with the supportive arm of a now untied Harris, had wobbled her way down the street in pursuit of Angel and Gunn. For some reason, they hadn't taken the car, so the two of them had had to follow on foot. And that was tricky, seeing as how Angel was already an expert in stalking, and his vampire senses could betray their presence at any moment.

They had had to keep their distance, only now, their prey was nowhere to be seen.

Cordelia made to demon stop so she could take a break. Things were starting to spin around her again, and she needed a second to steady herself.

"I don't see them", Harris confirmed helpfully, and sniffed the air to try and pick up the trail.

"Look, I didn't untie you and bring you along so that you could state the obvious", Cordelia snapped bitterly. She still didn't trust this guy one hundred percent, but he was her only hope of catching up with the boys.

"They must have gone a different way. It doesn't matter; we know where they're going. I'd suggest going through the sewers, but I don't think I could find my way. All the icky dampness and winding tunnels is Angel's gig. Maybe if we just find the building first and then go underground from there? I'll bet that's where we'll find 'em." Cordelia remembered the last time Angel had made an assault on the building. He'd gone in from underneath so as to avoid being seen.

She doubted that Wolfram and Hart would be so stupid as to leave that particular entrance unprotected again, but Angel would certainly try it before considering a more frontal attack. She just hoped she could get there first and persuade them to think this through a bit more carefully. She knew she and Mr. Plays-with-fire here could help if they would just let them. There was no way she was just going to stay at home and wait for them to get killed. If they went, she was going too.

 "OK, I think I'm ready to go again", she said, taking Harris' arm. He looked ridiculous in the hooded jacket she had found him, trying to cover up his demon features. She hoped nobody she knew would see her with this guy. She had her reputation to think of. Then again, who was she kidding, she didn't even know anybody else in this town, thanks to the ungodly hours she had to work.

It occurred to her then, as it often did, that these guys were her only real friends, her family. It only hardened her determination further to think that if she lost them, she'd have no one. She relied on and trusted them, so it was only fitting that she should be able to help them now. Surely the PTB wouldn't stab her in the back now; after all she had done for them?

She took a deep breath and carried on forwards, swearing to herself that she would do everything in her power to help them. This wasn't the time to get sentimental, so she banished her emotions from her mind and concentrated on walking, one step at a time. She hoped she wouldn't be too late and that Wesley was OK, wherever he was.

To be continued…