TITLE:  Soul Cages

AUTHOR:  Eloise

RATING: PG13

DISCLAIMER: Joss and ME own Wes, and all things Angel. I'm only playing with them. I promise to put them away carefully when I'm finished.

NOTES: Chapter 8 of 8. At last! Once again I send my heartfelt thanks to all my reviewers, especially you regulars out there (you know who you are!) Thanks for your lovely spoiler tip, DoReMi4, I was trying to stay spoiler free this season, but this was just too tempting to ignore! Now I'm thinking about who will play him – and I'm praying it will be David Warner – that's who I've been picturing in this fic. If you know the Star TrekTNG two parter 'Chain of Command', he was the Cardassian who tortured Picard. The man manages to find sympathy in the most irredeemable of characters. Talk about shades of grey… The by-play between him and Alexis would be stunning…

Anyway, back to the fic. Sorry I didn't include the Scoobies, but I haven't seen Season 7, and I don't feel I know the characters well enough to do them justice. This chapter contains a line from 'Ground State', and a brief reference to dialogue in 'Five by Five'.

Chapter 8: Swimming to the Light

A body lies open in the fisherman's yard

Like the side of a ship where the iceberg rips

One less soul in the soul cages

One last curse on the fisherman's lips

These are the soul cages   These are the soul cages

Swim to the light   Swim to the light.

She pouted carefully into the rear view mirror, and applied a layer of dark plum lipstick, rather inappropriately titled 'Innocence'. She drew it across her lips, blotting them expertly on a folded tissue. Reached into her bag and fished out a small silver phial. She slipped off the cap of the tiny bottle, and sprayed her pulse points with the carefully chosen fragrance - 'Contradiction'.

She wondered if Wesley would recognize it.

She finished by sweeping her fingers through her hair, pausing for a moment to massage her scalp. Wondered idly if they would be able to replace the hair that Linwood had lost. Or the scalp, for that matter. The thought made her smile a little. That, and her current situation.

She had no idea why the Senior Partners were suddenly so keen to keep Angel Junior alive and well. Obviously something had come up in the mind scans, something that told them Connor was going to be a major player in whatever big apocalypse they had scheduled. Something they weren't going to divulge to the mere mortals who worked for them.

That was fine with her. Keeping the kid healthy suited her very nicely. It had given her a big in at Home Office; consolidated her position of power as head of Special Projects, and had demoted Linwood in the process. She thought fondly of Lindsey again, of his final farewell, threatening them playfully with his 'evil hand'. Thorn in her side he had certainly been, but she couldn't deny the man had style. A quality in which Linwood was totally lacking. She just couldn't see the firm stretching to 'evil hair plugs'.

And then there was Wesley. Helping him and the slayer to save Connor had surprised him, she knew. She was keeping him guessing, and therefore interested. She was willing to admit to herself that she liked it when Wesley was interested. It made life more… stimulating. She allowed herself a small smile and gave the reflection in the rear view mirror an approving glance.

She snapped her purse closed, and checked her watch. The Cartier timepiece confirmed that Teuer had entered the building seven minutes and forty-three seconds earlier, and she was anxious to discover what the man had in mind for the slayer and her former watcher. She had learned early in her career to keep track of all the pieces in play, and she was certain that Teuer had a hidden agenda.

She let herself into the building and made her way upstairs to Wesley's apartment. She stopped outside his door, and listened carefully, but she could not make out what was being said. She reached into her bag and retrieved a key, the result of a carefully manoeuvred sleight of hand, a couple of weeks previously. She had only borrowed the spare key long enough to make the relevant impressions, and the firm's locksmiths had provided her with a perfect copy within hours. She slipped the key into the lock and turned it.

The scene before her was almost theatrical in its drama, as if she had wandered into some avant garde production of a Greek tragedy. The older Englishman had the slayer by the throat, and was restraining her with apparent ease, which made her wonder at his strength, or her lack of the same. He held a hypodermic syringe to her neck, and was looking at Wesley, who was standing stiffly by the couch. If possible, he looked even more damaged than he had last night, although she knew that was probably just the bruises darkening. A similarly battered Connor was visible through the open door of the bedroom, lying on Wes's bed, looking confused and groggy.

Teuer seemed supremely unruffled by her unexpected entrance.

'Ah. Ms. Morgan. How nice of you to join us.'

She nodded to him casually, determined not to be outdone by his nonchalance. 'Mr. Teuer.'

Wesley shot her a look of disbelief, and she felt a tiny twinge of something approaching regret.

'I have to say; I'm disappointed. I thought we had an agreement. A contract.' There was a layer of steel beneath the jovial tone.

'I don't follow you, Mr. Teuer. As far as my firm is concerned we have fulfilled the terms of the contract.' She indicated to Faith. 'You obviously have the slayer.'

He smiled icily. 'But you do not have the vampire's child.'

She waved her hand dismissively, feigning indifference.

'Oh, we had him. But he somehow managed to escape.'

She cast a glance at Wes as she spoke, trying to catch his eye. He steadfastly refused to meet hers.

'I find it hard to believe that the child was able to escape without the help of someone with inside knowledge.' His voice had lost all pretence of joviality, and he was staring hard at her, his blue eyes glittering.

Faith took advantage of the slight distraction Lilah was providing, and aimed a kick at the Englishman's knee. He barely flinched, removed his hand from her throat and pulled her head back by the hair, emptying the contents of the syringe into her neck. She sighed softly, and slid to the floor almost instantaneously, either unconscious or dead, she couldn't tell which. Wesley made a sound that was somewhere between a gasp and a sob.

'Stop that snivelling, Wesley. I haven't killed her. Haven't you been paying attention to anything I've said? Honestly,' he said, addressing her in a conversational tone, 'It's always been the same with him. In one ear and out the other.'

She suddenly stood very still, looking first at Wesley, then at the older Englishman.

'Come on, my dear, I'm sure you can work it out.' He said condescendingly.

The similarity of accent could be coincidence, certainly. The fact that they both were connected to the Council of Watchers was perhaps little more than a simple twist of fate. But those eyes… How had she not seen it? How had she missed something so glaringly obvious?

'I was rather concerned at our first meeting, when you guessed my name was of German origin. I thought perhaps I had overestimated your country's linguistic ignorance, and that my little ruse would be discovered.'

Teuer. What the hell did that mean? She looked quizzically at the older man, who was smiling patronizingly at her. Wesley spoke then, his voice quiet.

'Teuer. It means dear, expensive.' That made no sense to her. He smiled sadly. 'Of high…'

'Price.' She finished, realization hitting hard.

She took in the bruises on the Wes's face, eyed his splinted fingers with a newfound fascination.

'You did this? To him?'

Wesley's father stepped closer to the couch; folded his arms across his chest.

'It was necessary.'

There was no hint of remorse, or even regret, in his voice. She felt a long forgotten, strangely familiar pang of sympathy in her heart, and quickly swallowed down the emotion, before it could take root.

'Necessary to break his fingers?'' She made her tone light, conversational.

The other man shrugged his shoulders slightly, as if deciding something.

'It had to be convincing. He had to believe.'

Wesley looked dazed, obviously this was news to him too.

'Come along, boy, you don't seriously think that Faith was the real target? That little tramp? We needed you to be kept occupied, while the real objective was achieved.'

Wesley was shaking his head in disbelief.

'She was a decoy? You were using us?' He raised angry eyes to his father's cool ones.

'You utter bastard.'

Pryce Senior swung his fist, catching Wes on the chin, knocking him onto the couch. The casual ferocity of the blow made Lilah wonder idly how Wesley had survived childhood.

'You watch your tongue, my lad.' There seemed to be no great anger in his voice, just a hint of mild displeasure. It was really quite chilling.

'So Faith was nothing more than a distraction for Wesley?' She half-closed her eyelids, and smirked at them.

'If I'd known you wanted him kept busy, I could have provided the service myself. Free of charge.'

She was delighted to see Wes drop his head into his hands in despair. Pryce Senior looked vaguely disgusted.

'Sleeping with the enemy, Wesley. I should have guessed. As usual, you show an appalling lack of judgement, if unexpected good taste.'

That was a backhanded compliment if she ever heard one.

'What if I had killed Faith?' Wesley said softly.

'Oh, I knew you wouldn't, not straight away. You always loved those lost causes, Wesley. You just can't resist when they come calling, walking all over you, and you just lie down and let them do it. You've always been too soft for your own good.'

God, the man knew his son too well, knew where to aim to do most damage.

'I knew you'd resist for a few hours, if only to prove to me how strong you've become.' Acid sarcasm evident in his tone. 'I assumed that Ms. Morgan's firm would have completed their end of the bargain, before you finally cracked under pressure.'

So it was Connor, had been him, all along.

'Killing him was never part of the contract.' She pointed out pedantically.

'Forgive my bluntness, but you work for Hell on Earth. Inherently evil. And the tests you were planning to conduct involved him being dissected.'

She smiled politely.' We changed our mind. Connor is much more useful alive and - well - kicking, than floating around in a specimen jar.'

The older man shook his head apologetically, reached into his pocket and pulled out a small gun.

'I really didn't want it to come to this. It doesn't do to have the Council connected with cold-blooded murder.'

He stepped over Faith's inert form, and made his way into the bedroom, where Connor lay. Wesley stood up quickly, and it was clear that he was still reeling from the most recent blow to his face.

'Lilah. We have to stop him.' He began to follow his father into the bedroom. She reached him, as he swayed in the doorway, his knees almost giving out.

'Your father's right, Wes. You are a sucker for lost causes.' She said, hauling him over to the bed, and depositing him there, none too gently.

Connor had at least had the presence of mind to remove himself from the bed, and was currently backing away from the gun that Wesley's father had pointed at his heart. She sighed a little dramatically, and positioned herself between the vampire's child, and the muzzle of the weapon.

'Lilah, no.' Some small deep-down part of her rejoiced at the tremor in Wesley's voice. Made her wish that what she was doing was truly noble.

'Now, come along, Ms. Morgan, I've no wish to harm you. Please step away from the boy.'

'I'm afraid I can't, Mr. Pryce. I really can't allow you to kill Connor.'

The older man's face hardened, and for a instant she felt real fear.

'Be assured, Ms. Morgan, I will kill you if I need to.'

Oh, she didn't doubt that for a moment. A man whose dedication to duty extended to the torture of his own child would have few qualms about shooting an employee of Hell on Earth.

'You can try, Mr. Pryce. But I think you'll find that you'll be unsuccessful.'

He was thrown by her confidence.

'Our contract, you see, had more than one hidden clause. You discovered the one pertaining to your soul. However, you failed to detect the self-protection clause I had inserted. A standard precaution I always take when signing a contract.'

She quoted from memory.

'Any action taken by the first party – that would be you – against the second party – me – will be rendered null and void. Furthermore, if any such action is repeated, it will be instead be reversed and visited upon the perpetrator.' She smiled ruefully. 'Which means if you try to shoot me, you'll end up shooting yourself.'

For the first time she saw a crack in the cool, composed façade that the Englishman had presented thus far. His jaw tightened, and a muscle in his cheek twitched, almost imperceptibly. He drew his hand back, and swung it towards her face, testing the veracity of her statement. Although she knew she was perfectly safe, it took all her effort not to flinch as his hand neared her cheek.

The blow did not land.

'I wouldn't do that again, Mr. Pryce. Although I'm sure your son would encourage you to try.'

She glanced at Wesley, who was staring at her open-mouthed, somewhere between shock and admiration. She turned back to his father again, enjoying the look of helpless fury on his face. She guessed that he was a man who was not used to being outsmarted.

'I think perhaps it's time you were going, Mr. Pryce. It seems you've rather outstayed your welcome.'

He clenched his teeth, and made an effort to sound calm.

'You can't protect him forever.'

She shrugged. 'I wasn't planning to. I'm guessing all this clandestine nonsense with the pseudonym means that the majority of the Council is unaware of true purpose of your operation. I'm sure they'll be very interested to hear that you were willing to murder an innocent child in cold blood.'

She could almost see his blood pressure rising.

'You don't understand. You stupid woman, you haven't a clue what is coming!'

'Hm. Insulting me is really not helping your case.'

She removed the gun from him, curled her fingers around it carefully.

'And you haven't been very nice to Wesley. You spanked him pretty hard. Perhaps you'd like to say sorry?'

She pretended to examine the safety catch. From the disgusted look he threw her, she imagined he would prefer to be shot at point blank range rather than offer any such apology.

'No? Oh, well, I did try.' She nudged him gently with the muzzle of the gun. 'Time to go, I think. I'll make sure you're escorted to the airport, so there'll be no sneaking back for any fond farewells with Watcher Junior.'

Wesley was on his feet now, still rather unsteady, not only from the physical violence, but also as a reaction to the scene he was currently witnessing.

She motioned to the older Englishman with the gun, and he moved forward stiffly, his shoulders rigid with rage. She accompanied him, her hand resting on his arm as if he were her escort for the evening. As they passed Wesley, she paused, smiled seductively at him.

'You realize, of course, that you are now heavily in my debt.'

His eyes widened as she slid her free hand down his back, pinching his rear, hard enough to leave another bruise. She removed her hand carelessly, and relished the look of terror that momentarily crossed Wesley's face.

'Let's just say I'll be exacting a high price.'

*~*~*~*

He stepped into the hotel, and it occurred to him then that this was the first time he had entered this building since he had taken Connor, as a baby. He wrapped his arm firmly around the boy by his side, heavily aware of the irony of this current situation. Connor had not said much on the journey over, had simply accepted Wesley's declaration that he would be much safer at the hotel. He had insisted that both Wesley and Faith should accompany him, on the grounds that it was not much safer for them at Wes's apartment.

'What if he comes back?'

He had explained that his father would not be coming back. Lilah was nothing if not thorough.

Faith had recovered consciousness not long after the second dose of the cruciamentum drug had been administered, and Wes had filled her in on the more important details of his father's removal, carefully avoiding any mention of the fact that her planned execution had been nothing more than a ruse. In truth, he was still reeling from the entire episode. It had been disturbing enough to undergo torture at the hands of his father, but to find out that it had simply been a ploy to ensure Connor's death… he was going to have add a whole new set of plotlines to his nightmares.

And now was not the time to deal with those matters.  He suspected that Connor had his own daddy issues that needed to be addressed more immediately. Angel had come out of the office when he heard the lobby door open, and now stood facing them, his arms folded tight across his broad chest. He felt Connor's heart rate quicken at the sight of his father, and gave his arm a reassuring squeeze.

'Connor needs to be somewhere safe.'

The boy opened his mouth to argue, but stopped when Wes shook his head gently.

'The council may send another… operative after you. It would be better if you were with someone who can protect you properly.' He looked to Angel.

'It's a pity you didn't think like that before you stole him.' The vampire's voice was no longer full of hate, but there was still the tension of unresolved conflict between them.

'Do you really want to do this, Angel?' He kept his own voice neutral, his own exasperated anger well subdued. 

'I can't go back and change it. I did what I thought was right with the information available. On reflection it wasn't the wisest of choices, but of course I didn't have the benefit of hindsight.' He couldn't help the note of sarcasm that had crept into his tone.

Connor took a step away from the two of them, and he let him go. The boy went over to Faith, who was slouching on the couch in the centre of the lobby, swinging a booted heel aimlessly.

Angel watched him move away, and addressed Wesley, his intonation betraying quiet anger and hurt.

'How could you? Wes? How could you believe I would have killed him! I'm his father, for God's sake!'

It always surprised him how obtuse the vampire could be, despite a hundred or so years of soul searching.

'Angel, I am living, breathing, barely walking proof of what a father is capable of! And if my father, a man, a souled human, could do this,' he touched his bandaged arm gingerly, 'then consider what a monster like Angelus might have done to your baby.'

'I wouldn't have let him!' Angel cried desperately.

'You couldn't have stopped him. I didn't know how the prophecy would play out, all I knew was I had to get Connor away from you. '

He saw the vampire cringe at these words, clearly fighting the urge to grab him by the scruff of the neck, and shake him till it snapped.

'And now I've brought him back to you. He needs you to protect him, love him, and forgive him.'

Angel ran his hand over his face distractedly.

'I do.' He whispered brokenly.

'Then you have to tell him that. He doesn't know it yet, and even when you tell him he won't believe it.'

He swallowed; knowing that what he was about to say would be a stake in the vampire's heart.

'He loved Holtz ferociously, with a devotion borne of desperation. This world, our world, will never truly be home for Connor. You have to accept that.'

The vampire dropped his face into his hands, and Wesley was not sure if he was weeping.

'I can't forgive you for what you did, Wesley.'

'Didn't ask you to.' He spoke very clearly. 'This isn't about us, Angel. It's about Connor. He needs you. Not to judge or punish, just to accept him for what he is, for whatever he's done.'

The same thing could be said of him, but he possessed enough self-awareness to understand the futility of such an appeal on his own behalf. Angel had made that very clear on every occasion they had met since the kidnapping. And he had begun to realize that he did not crave the vampire's forgiveness as much as he thought. It would, of course, be much more pleasant if they could resolve their differences, but he was managing quite nicely on his own, without the support of Angel Investigations.

For the first time in his life, he was no longer working in the shadow of another, trying to measure up to some impossible ideal. He was the one who had found Angel, he was the one Connor had chosen - he couldn't deny the selfish little frisson of satisfaction that thought gave him. And as amazing as it still seemed to him, Faith had sided with him against the souled vampire. He glanced over to the couch where the slayer now sat, her arm curved protectively around Connor's thin shoulders. She caught his look, and smiled back encouragingly.

'Do you think you can do that, Angel?'

The vampire nodded swiftly.

Wesley returned the nod, and headed over to the couch to fetch Angel's son.

*~*~*~*

Connor shifted a little beside her, and she tightened her arm around him in what she hoped was a comforting manner. She wasn't used to this at all, this feeling of being needed, of being relied upon. All her life she had relied on no one but herself, and it had become such a part of her nature that it was difficult to accept such a need in another. But her heart was moved by the bewildered naivety of the vampire's son, and by his devotion to Wesley.

She looked over at her former watcher, as he and Angel engaged in a fairly intense discussion. Compared to their recent encounters, this reunion was positively cordial; at least neither of them had pulled a weapon yet. If they came to blows she knew which side she'd be on, she thought, digging her free hand into her back pocket where she had shoved her stake. Wes seemed the more controlled of the two, was speaking with a quiet assurance that still surprised her.

She wasn't sure who this man was. No longer the man from her dreams, always watching. The man whose body bore the scars that had damned her to endless nightmares of guilt and shame. He was not that man any more. Now his body had been broken for her, bearing new scars that had saved her. Her betrayer now become her saviour.

She was also beginning to feel something more than simple gratitude or friendship for the man, and that frightened her more than she was willing to admit to herself. She had figured out that something was going on between Wes and the lady lawyer. Self-destructive and nasty as it seemed, it was pretty clear that they were involved in something more than a working relationship. And the jolt of unreasonable jealousy she experienced at that thought filled her with panic.

She caught Wes looking over at them, and threw a smile his way. He spoke again to the vampire, then came over to them. Beside her, Connor looked up, his face open and trusting, like Wes was the saviour of the world. That must be pissing the vamp off so much; that Wes was getting the hero worship, while he got stuffed in a metal coffin at the bottom of the sea.

'Connor, he wants to talk to you.'

A little touch of teenage sulkiness edged into Connor's voice. 'I don't want to.'

'Come on, Connor, we talked about this.'

She was surprised by the firmness of Wes's voice, hadn't heard him speak so sharply to the boy before. And of course, it worked. Trust Wes to push all the right buttons. From the little she knew of Connor's background, his stepfather Holtz had been loving, but firm. Pretty much how Wes sounded now, she guessed.

Wes guided Connor back to Angel, his good hand resting on the boy's shoulder. She felt a flutter in the pit of her stomach as she watched him with the vampire's son. She couldn't make out what was being said, but after a few moments, Wes stepped back, and placed his hand briefly against Connor's cheek. A gesture of such open, gentle affection that it made her own heart ache.

He left father and son together and returned to sit beside her on the couch.

'You think it's safe to leave them alone?' She queried, in a half-teasing tone.

Wes shrugged, rubbed his hand over his stubble thoughtfully.

'As safe as one can ever be with Angel.'

That sent chills racing down her spine, as she remembered the man she had tortured, the one who had hero-worshipped the souled vampire unquestioningly. Again she was seeing glimpses of a man she barely recognized.

'Angel insists on believing the fallacy that he cannot harm Connor, because he is his father. Despite the evidence to the contrary staring him in the face.'

She saw his eyes flick to the bandage across his forearm, and briefly imagined slitting Pryce Senior's throat. It was a disturbingly pleasant thought.

'I could go after him, Wes.' Her voice very low. 'At least pay him back for what he did to you.'

He raised his head, gave her a thoughtful look.

'Still into payback then, Faith.'

Oh God, no. She couldn't believe she had just said that. He didn't sound angry, though. In fact, he looked incredibly calm and self-possessed, a long road travelled from his Sunnydale watcher days. She chewed her bottom lip absently, stopping only when she tasted iron.

'I can't take it back, Wes.'

(What was done was done, could not be undone, however much she wished it so.)

'I agree. It can't be taken back. But you can let it go.'

She was terrified to look at him

'I think I'm finally beginning to understand about forgiveness. It can't be earned, because Lord knows I've tried. But it can be given.' He paused, and looked straight into her eyes. 'And in giving it we set ourselves free.'

She almost fell off the couch, as she realized the implication of his words. Then there was a sound from across the lobby, and they looked over to see Connor drop his head into his hands, sobbing quietly. Angel reached out and drew his errant son into an embrace that was awkward in its gentleness.

'Looks like you're not the only one doing the forgiving tonight.'

For a moment she saw something in his face, a deep aching sorrow that seemed to cut into his soul. And then it was gone.

'Lucky Connor.' He whispered.

*~*~*~*

It was time she was going, she knew. They had been walking on eggshells for two days now, and it was up to her to do the stomping. She had accepted in her head that Wes felt nothing for her but friendship, even a slightly paternal affection. But each time she looked into those baby blues, she felt that lurch, as her stomach seemed to back flip. They had talked about what his father had done, and she sensed that Wes was incredibly uncomfortable with the fact that she had witnessed his father's torture of him. Never mind that it had all been done to protect her, that it was the most selfless act anyone had ever committed on her behalf.

No, it was better that she leave now, before she fell completely.

'Faith, you really don't have to go.'

He stood facing her, his arms folded across his chest, as she leaned against the counter of the lobby.

'We could use your help finding Cordelia.'

Even he knew how lame that sounded, and he reddened with embarrassment.

'Come on, Wes. Is that the best you can do? And what makes you think I'd want to find the cheerleader princess? Far as I can see, you're better off without her.'

He gave her that look, the upside down smile, eyebrow quirked up, and her insides flipped again.

'Think I might be more use in Sunnydale than I'd be to you.'

'Have you been going behind my back to Giles again, Faith?'

She froze, as she recognized the stuffy watcher voice from Sunnydale. Then reached over and shoved him lightly when she saw the grin crack his poker face.

'Sorry, couldn't resist. Giles called me earlier to check up on you. I told him you'd be an asset in any situation.'

'That's a good thing, right?'

He shot her another look, scornful of her feigned ignorance.

She picked up her duffle bag, hefted it onto her shoulder easily, slayer strength fully returned. She had already done the other goodbyes, and it was just the two of them in the lobby now.

'Be seeing you, Watcher. She set the tone quickly, before he could get sentimental. 'You know where to find me if Angel starts any more pillow fights.'

He fell into step behind her, responding in kind.

'Take care, Slayer. Try to stay one step ahead of the lynch mob.'

She turned at the door, and saw his face soften, thinking he had hurt her.

'It'll be okay, Faith. Really, it will.'

She leaned in to him, brushed her lips over his own, so swiftly that he barely had time to acknowledge the kiss before she pulled away.

'Hell, yes. If you can forgive me, Wes, anyone can.'

*~*~*~*

The armour-plated demon swung his huge feet onto the low coffee table in front of him, and took another sip of his bottle of Pete's Wicked. He picked up the remote, and pressed a button, and the television screen in front of him switched to the dark oppressive study he had shown Wesley during the locator spell. That had been a fun part for him to play, the kindly, concerned guest star in the Englishman's private hell.

He watched the older man talking on the 'phone, his face hard, blue eyes full of despair. He had to hand it to the guy; he had done his best to thwart the prophecy, even to the extent of torturing his own child. Now there was a dedication to the cause you just didn't see these days. He raised his bottle to the man on the screen in salute.

'Kudos to you, Mr. Wyndam-Pryce, Senior. '

Of course, he was never going to prevail. His bosses had spent the better part of three years setting up this apocalypse; there was no way they were going to allow one of their key players to be destroyed before the prophecy could be fulfilled.

He flicked channels again, and the screen shimmered, as the golden-haired seer filled the screen.

'Ah, 'Cordy's' on again.' He smiled contently as the amnesiac woman looked around her, patently bored.

'Thank God she chose the demonization over the show – now there's a horror I wouldn't want to inflict on my worst enemy.'

He turned the sound up, loud enough to hear her say - 'What are you, deficient? Get me out of here!'

He took another sip of his beer and stretched his arm behind his head.

'All in good time, Cordelia. Pretty soon you'll be back home. Back with Angel and Wesley and… oh yes, Connor.'

He smiled nastily.

'Just one big happy family…'

FIN