Sins of the Father
Chapter Thirteen
He remembered steel. Cold, hard and glinting as it sliced into his neck.
He remembered a warm, soft bundle. Tightening his hand around it as it was pulled from his grasp.
He remembered blood. Gushing, hot and sticky, staining his hands.
He remembered screams. A little girl kicking out, tears running down her face as she found her voice through her fear.
But it hadn't happened like that. When Connor was taken, there was no little girl. There was no screams, no sneering vampire. Only the cold, hard ground and the sense that he was going to die.
His eyes fluttered and he dimly made out the shapes of people peering down at him. He groaned as he tried to sit up. Hands pushed him back and he complied, the pain in his back, stomach, crotch, wrist, chest and jaw only lessened when he sank against the bed.
He blinked and focused on the people around him. Fred, Gunn, Cordy, Lorne and even Connor peered down at him; their expressions ranging from fearfully tear stained to shocked sadness.
The images he had relived during his concussion rose up again, the girl's face the most prominent.
"Lottie?" he asked, feeling his jaw ache around the bruise. There was silence from the group as they exchanged glances. "You didn't get him, did you?"
"Tried," Gunn said, head lowered. "But we didn't know what was happening until we heard her screaming. By then, he was too far away, I couldn't get a proper aim."
Wes sat up, pushing Cordy's hands away and struggling against the pain in his body.
"He beat you pretty bad," Connor said, attempting - Wes guessed - to make him feel better. "He could've broke your spine, you couldn't do anything."
"I know that, I was there," Wes snapped. "We've got to stop him. Forget about Willow, we kill him. Before he hurts my daughter."
"But, Wesley -" Cordy started.
"No," he interrupted. "I don't care how much you love him, I'm not willing to sacrifice my daughter so you can get your boyfriend back!"
"You think I'd ask you to do that?" she asked in a low, hurt voice.
"I know you want us to stick to the plan. Hunt him, lock him up and get Willow to re-en-soul him. But I'm sick of waiting. God knows what the bastard's done to her by now."
He stood up, grabbing hold of Gunn as he swayed slightly.
"What do you want us to do?" Fred asked quietly.
"I've got a call to make," Wes said. "But, Gunn, Connor, if you could start scouting out warehouses, empty buildings. You've got daylight on your side now. Find Lottie, you understand? Don't attempt to fight him, just try to get her out. I can't afford to lose the people I need to help me. Just… Try, please?"
Gunn and Connor nodded and left the room quietly.
"Wesley…"
"Cordelia, I've told you -"
"I wasn't going to say that," she sniffed a little, fighting tear., "I understand we can't save him now. I just thought that Gunn and Connor wouldn't be enough, you told them not to kill him, you can't think you can."
"I wish I could be the one to stake him," Wes answered, hobbling toward the door. "But I'm no where near capable, I'm not strong enough. That's why I'm going out when I've made my call."
He left Cordy, Lorne and Fred and made his way slowly down the stairs to the office.
"No!"
The word - and her screams - echoed around his mind. His jaw clenched as he remembered Angelus running a finger down her cheek. He remembered his words.
"The sins of the father are revisited on the - well, daughter. But what does that matter?"
God, he should have known. Angelus didn't care about Connor, but that didn't mean he was above using what happened to Connor as a twisted torture. A torture that would prove most effective. And a torture - Wes felt sickened by the very thought - Angelus would enjoy.
He reached the office and snatched up the phone, dialling a familiar number.
"Hello, Lilah Morgan of Wolfram and Hart," the voice had a slight quaver to it that evened out toward the end, replaced by the same bravado until you forgot you heard vulnerability in the voice.
"Lilah, it's Wesley -"
"Jesus, Wesley! Where the hell have you been? I've been trying to call you since yesterday afternoon, but the lines have been engaged! I wanted to tell you that I had Angelus in here, he knows about a shaman that can help him now. He refused to work for Wolfram and Hart. He said he'd make sure you guys would be too busy to worry about his soul."
"I know."
"What?"
"He's keeping us busy, Lilah. He took my daughter last night. I've only just come round."
"Shit," she breathed. "God, Wes, I'm sorry. I tried to call you -"
"I understand that," Wes answered. "So I suppose you were trying to help?"
"Wes, I'm not a completely heartless bitch… Not when it comes to you."
Wes felt a rush of affection at the hesitant admission and gained confidence that she may grant his request.
"I know you're not," he replied gently. "Which is why I called you. I want you to help me."
"I don't know if I can, Wes. The company's not going to let me have Angel killed."
"I wasn't going to ask that, I've got a way around that. I wanted to ask if there is anything you can do to protect Lottie?"
"Lottie? That's your, er, daughter?"
"Yes. Can you help me?"
"What were you thinking?"
"A spell. Something that means he can't harm her. You've read the files, Lilah, you know what he's capable of. God knows when we'll find him and when we do, we can't be sure he hasn't hidden her somewhere else. But, if you could put a protection spell on her, all I've got to do is find her."
There was a long pause, then Lilah sighed.
"At school, did you register her under Wyndham-Pryce?"
"What? Lilah, this is hardly the sort of thing -"
"Look, do you want my help or not?"
"Of course I do, but -"
"So, is she registered under Wyndham-Pryce?"
"Yes -"
"What's her mother's maiden name?"
"Roberts."
"I think we can make that work. I've got a client under Roberts. I'll say he's got an illegitimate child that he wants a protection spell put on and no one else apart from me, the person doing the spell and the partners should know in case his wife finds out. I'll get it done within the hour."
"Thank you. Thank you so much."
"This is the last favour I do for you," she told him firmly, any vulnerability dissolved under her professional manner. "And I'm only doing this 'cause Angelus threw a mug at me. But I'm ok, not that you'd care."
"I -"
"Save it. I'll call you when it's done. Go be a hero, Wesley."
And with that the phone was set down. Wes sighed, old feelings for Lilah swirling in his stomach along with anxiety and anger. Fred, Cordy and Lorne peered into the office.
"Is everything ok?" Lorne asked uncertainly.
"Yes," Wes answered, grabbing his jacket from where he had left it on the chair the night before. "I called Lilah," his eyes alighted on Fred for a moment. "And she has agreed to put a protection spell on Lottie. She'll be safe until we find her."
"Where are you going?" Fred asked, as he walked past them, limping toward the doors. "You're hurt, let one of us come with you."
"I'm fine," he grimaced. "I'm standing. I'll be back in a couple of hours. Get Gunn to call me with any news."
"Where're you going?" Cordy yelled as he went out into the morning sunshine.
If he heard, he didn't bother to answer.
Angelus stretched and glanced at his watch. 8 o'clock. Playtime, he thought.
He had brought Lottie to the place he was staying after he had kidnapped her. He tied her up and left her in a dark little closet - Just like Wes's daddy did all those years ago - and went to slept.
Angelus liked to take things slow. He had learnt years ago that a child's imagination could conjure far worse things than an adult's could. He knew for the time being that the longer he left her alone with only her thoughts, the more terrified she'd be, the louder she'd scream, the longer she'd beg.
So, he fought his desire to toy with the little girl, saving the satisfaction of her first screams for the boring daylight hours. He would move on when night fell, he doubted Angel's friends would find him today, however, he had no doubt they would eventually, and there was no need to let the games end too soon.
He stood up and left the room, entering the room with the closet next door. He opened the door of the closet and sure enough, the scent of terror was thicker than the night before. Her face was sticky to touch from her tears and her eyes were wide. He bent closer, running his finger down her neck, remembering the taste of innocence. Then he raised his eyebrow at the girl. Beneath the scent of fear - so faint he almost missed it - was the scent of hate. He chuckled. He would enjoy breaking this one.
He hauled her out of the closet and tossed her to the ground. Then he frowned down at her.
"What's missing?" he mused, then tugged the gag from her mouth with fierce violence, bruising her pale skin. "Oh yeah. It's no fun if you don't scream."
She whimpered, using her feet to push herself away from him. He smiled at her, before dropping to his knees and turning her over to take hold of her hands. He pulled on a finger and pressed down on her nail.
"You bite your nails?" he asked and when she didn't reply, he continued. "Well, what little girl doesn't? But, y'know, you'll ruin them…" he slid into game face and turned her head so she could see. "So why don't we pull 'em out and start again?"
She screamed, struggling in his grip as she kicked out. He laughed at her and dug his nails in her arms. He pressed harder until blood oozed up from where his own nails cut her skin.
But then pain zinged up his arms, sudden and fiery. In a flash of white light, his arms were thrown off her and she was catapulted to the opposite end of the room. She hit the wall and he stared in disbelief at his hands. He approached her menacingly, sniffing the air again.
"Well, I've not become a boring asshole with bad dress sense and worse hair," he said. "So I'm guessing that wasn't my soul. It must be something from daddy to you."
He hunkered down before her. He could smell magick, a distant power hanging around her like an aura. Slowly and gently, he sat her upright and eased her bent legs out in front of her. Nothing happened. Then he pulled back a hand and swung it at her face. She let out a shriek and turned her head away, but another flash pushed his hand off course.
"I guess daddy's put a protection spell on you, kid," he said. "Count yourself lucky, you get to keep your fingernails…" his frowned eased into a grin. "But there are other ways. Did your dad ever tell you about a girl called Drusilla…?"
Wes mounted the stairs of the apartment block slowly. He paused on the landing, leaning against the wall for support, willing his knees back to solidity. He pulled a crumpled bit of paper, torn from the phone directory from his pocket. Another flight of stairs, he thought with a groan.
He pushed himself up the stairs, gripping the rail and pausing twice. When he reached the top of the stairs, he mobile phone rang. Tugging it out of his pocket, he answered quickly.
"It's me," Lilah's voice said. "It's done."
"Thank y -"
But she put the phone down before the company could log the call. He felt some of the anxiety lift from his shoulders, but he wasn't stupid, he was sure Angelus would find another way to hurt Lottie, even if it wasn't physically.
He reached the apartment he was looking for and knocked. She had to be home. It wasn't like she had a job anymore. Well, hopefully not one where she worked the kind of hours she had before.
The door opened and the woman stared at him for a moment, taking in his bruised jaw.
"Don't I know you?" she asked. "You work for Angel, don't you?"
"Not anymore," he replied, "Could I come in? It's very important, Detective Lockley…"