Sins of the Father
Chapter Seventeen
Most people's phobias were borne out of childhood experiences. One bad thing in childhood could echo through the rest of your life. Fear of heights, fear of spiders - there's always a reason. A catalyst. Something that started it. And sometimes you can't remember why or how.
But most of the time, you do because the first time it happens, the first time the fear grips your stomach, that becomes your worst nightmare.
Because of Lenny, Lottie was scared of the dark.
Because of Angelus, Lottie was scared of small spaces.
To her, the worst thing in the world was having to sit in the dark, not knowing what was going on outside or when you were getting out. She hated it; she hated not being able to see a way out. She knew the rooms Angelus always locked her in were small, but the longer she was stuck in there, the more her hysteria grew.
She couldn't breathe, she couldn't scream anymore and the silence and complete nothingness weighed on her, as if the space were vast. After a while, she shut up and sat with her eyes squeezed shut until she was grateful when Angelus dragged her from the closet later in the day.
For the rest of her life, she swore would always make sure she could see the way out.
Wes glanced across at Faith who was studying a crossbow intensely. She had one leg swung over the chair, giving a fine view of her muscular thighs. He slumped into the couch and sighed. He was beyond tired. He hadn't slept properly for a couple of days, since Lottie had gone missing. Now, his eyes began to droop and he leaned his head on his hand and promised himself just a couple of minutes.
Faith looked up, her face impassive as she watched the sleeping ex-Watcher. There was something soft about him when he was asleep. His face was no longer tight from holding in all his fear, worry and guilt. In his sleep, the emotions were easily readable, as though he couldn't escape them even in dreams, which was something she could relate to.
She wondered vaguely if she were part of the problem. Yet another worry to add to his shoulders. She hoped not. It wasn't like she expected - or wanted, for that matter - anything from him. She didn't expect him to forgive her for what she had done, but she respected him for putting it to one side, though she knew that was more to do with worrying about his daughter than anything else.
She had to admit the situation was wearing her down too. The others had backed off, seeming to come to a hesitant acceptance of her presence. She had never known the little girl, but had heard the others talk about her when Wes wasn't around and she sounded like a nice kid. She could practically see Wes imagining what could be happening to her and her own thoughts disturbed her.
She knew it was Angelus. She knew that. But she was also sure Angel needed saving. He was out there somewhere and once they got him back and he remembered what had happened… She wondered if he'd cope. She wondered if Wes would let him.
"You're staring."
She jumped and turned, looking up at Connor and Gunn.
"Huh?"
"At English, you were staring," Gunn repeated, jutting his chin toward the sleeping man. "Don't go waking him up, he hasn't slept in days."
Fred appeared and smiled down at Wesley, gently removing his glasses and pushing him back onto the couch. She cautioned the others with a glare not to wake him and disappeared back into the kitchen where she was apparently helping Cordy make pancakes.
"What's the plan for tonight?" Connor asked in a low voice.
Faith stood and pushed the two men further away from Wesley.
"Same as usual."
"That never turns anything up!" Connor replied in frustration.
"Kid, I get this is your dad, ok? But back off, I'm the one Wes brought here to find him. You got any other ideas, I'd love to hear 'em."
"He's not my father," Connor gritted.
"You know what? You're right. He's not, Angel is. I'm still waiting for suggestions."
"Lorne could do a spell," Gunn said. "There's gotta be something that means we can find him."
"Lorne's not strong enough," Cordy said, appearing at the back of the group with Fred and Lorne. "The mojo Lilah started to protect Lottie means a spell wouldn't work to find them, kinda like a magnet next to a compass. You'd need someone powerful."
"Which isn't me," Lorne added ruefully.
"What about you?" Faith asked. "Thought you were all demony now, C?"
"Part demon," Cordy corrected, though her voice lacked the sting it had held in their first few discussions. "And anyway, I've tried. It's not working. I was new to this when I left for the big light in the sky and if I learnt anything, the PTB made sure I forgot it."
"What now?" Fred asked quietly. "The more time we spend trying to find Angelus…"
"Means the more time he's got to hide," Gunn finished.
"And the more time he's got to find the guy to destroy the soul," Connor reminded them sullenly.
"And if that happens…" Faith tailed off, unable to finish her sentence.
"God help us all," Cordy whispered, looking over at Wesley. "And God help Lottie."
Angelus kicked open the door of the house. A Shaman in Santa Monica. Who knew? But then what Shaman was gonna live in the stereotypical shack when Wolfram and Hart could get them a good place?
He had found out about the guy through some demons at a bar. This was the soonest he could get there. He was counting on the fact that if this guy was evil, he could walk right into the house. Yelling from beyond the barrier, unable to cross the threshold sorta took the edge off the threats and the mystery went to hell. If there was one thing Angelus loved, it was drama and mystery. Darla had called him "theatrical."
He reached out a hand and grinned when it was not stopped. Lilah hadn't been bluffing. There weren't many humans who were so evil that even a vampire didn't need an invite into their home. Angelus really wanted to meet this guy. He wondered if he'd taste good. He did like the taste of magick in the veins. That gypsy girl had a spice of magick, but his fondest memory was of a willowy blonde witch back in 1803. Now she had been a nummy treat.
He was silent as he slipped down the hall; he appreciated the element of surprise. All the lower rooms were empty. He climbed the stairs and checked the rooms upstairs. All were empty. Suddenly, he froze in the hall; he had picked up the scent of blood.
And disinfectant.
He concentrated on the scent of blood and followed it back into the main bedroom. He looked around, smelt the death and the overbearing stench of humanity, yet more disinfectant and heavy duty cleansing sprays.
There was no body, but Angelus was not stupid.
Wolfram and Hart wanted him.
And they were willing to kill if it meant he turned to them for help.
They were arming themselves up again, ready to go out for another night of searching. Wes cocked his shotgun, checked he had stakes and grabbed the tranquilliser gun, though he knew if he had a clear shot, he'd much rather take the arsehole's brain out with a bullet. He figured that would keep him out for a while and hey, he was a vampire, he'd heal.
Faith picked up a crossbow; Gunn, his axe and Connor took a long sword and small hand axe.
Cordy, Fred and Lorne offered the usual "Be careful's," but no one was actually listening. They had heard the words too often, yet another testimony to the previous nights failures.
Wes didn't say a word, preferring to let Faith take charge. It wasn't like she wasn't capable and he was too tired to think up strategies. He was saving his energy for one thing and one thing only.
He turned when the group did and followed them up the stairs to the main door. He stopped when they did, but it wasn't until he heard a vaguely familiar voice that he looked up.
"You don't call, you don't write. But as soon as a vampire's on the loose, the phone doesn't stop ringing."
He stared at the red head and her blonde companion. The others looked on in shocked silence.
"Willow?" he asked.
"Yep. This is Tara," she indicated her companion. "And we're here to see a guy about a soul."