Chapter 28-Dangerous Liaisons

-Buffy-

We're meeting Angel's friend in some obscure alley. He won't tell me where we're going yet or what we're doing, only that we can trust this person. We're standing in the alley holding a small duffel apiece when a black stretch limousine pulls up to the mouth of the alley. A nerdy looking guy with brown hair and glasses opens the door and sticks his head out. He motions for us to get in. I look at Angel. He nods and guides me to the limo with one hand on the small of my back. Once we're settled in the limo pulls away from the alley.

"David this is Buffy." Angel introduces me.

I hesitantly shake his hand. He doesn't seem surprised by the coolness of my hands.

"Wow, this is such a pleasure to meet you. I knew there was girl in Angel's past but I never imagined, wow such a pleasure."

If I could still blush, I would be blushing. Angel raises an eyebrow at David.

"I stopped by the hotel one day, you were in Sunnydale. Cordelia explained it to me." David offered as explanation.

"Great, Cordelia explaining my love life, just what I need." I grumble.

"She was pretty nice about it, said something about star crossed lovers, forbidden love of all time. Then she sort of went off on a tangent and I didn't catch much of anything else." David says.

"I thought I said discreet, David. I didn't expect a limo." Angel says.

"This is LA, Angel. Limos are discreet. Besides everyone will think we're celebrities. They'd certainly never guess vampires on the run." I come to David's defense. I'm not sure why I feel the need to, maybe because he reminds me of a slightly geekier Xander.

"She's right. No one will look twice at us. If we were driving a beat up Buick we'd be a lot more noticeable." David says.

"Everything is ready for us?" Angel asks.

"Yes. The plane is waiting. The pilots won't ask you anything. They won't report to anyone, including me that you were ever on the plane. Their flight plans and logs will say they went to Spain. The plane's windows have been blacked out in the passenger cabin. Once it lands they will guard the plane the entire time and be ready to take off as soon as you are." It's amazing the change that comes over David when he's talking business. He seems less nerdy and much more the business entrepreneur he is.

"I can't thank you enough for this, David." Angel says.

"It's no problem really. I mean you guys have done things for me. Besides how often do I get to do James Bond stuff like this?" Ok, so he looks incredibly nerdy when he's geeking out over my life.

*

-Angel-

I'm chewing on gum that Buffy insists I had to chew when we took off. She said something about my ears popping. I noticed the pressure increase when we got in the air but I didn't think much of it. I'm reading the books on the Watcher's Council that Wes pulled for me. Buffy is watching something on the TV. She spent several minutes telling me how this was not like flying coach at all and oohing and awing over the plane. I just smiled. I wouldn't know. It's my first time flying.

I glance up when I hear Buffy sniffling. Immediately I have her in my arms. I take the headphones off she is wearing and cuddle her to me. She sobs into my chest. She's prone to tears these days, and I understand it. I do what I have always done with her. I comfort her and wait patiently. Eventually she will tell me what's bothering her.

"Stupid Clark." She says between broken sobs.

Clark? Maybe she meant Cordelia? Could she still be upset by what happened at the hotel? Of course she could. After everything that has happened to her, it takes a little while for things to really hit her. She's still numb.

"Lana is just as dumb." She sobs out.

I'm completely lost. I don't know who Lana is. I'm fairly certain I've never met a Lana. Maybe she was one of Cordelia's friends in high school. She can't be this upset over something that happened in high school, can she? I search my brain, trying to remember if one of the girls she'd killed in Sunnydale had been named Lana. I'm fairly sure it wasn't. I break down and confess my total ignorance at what she's crying about.

"Buffy, who's Lana and Clark and why are they stupid?"

"Superman! Smallville!" She wails, as if I should know that.

"Superman? Wait that's a comic isn't it? Well I get it now. I mean the tights and the cape were kind of stupid, but why are you crying because of that?" The girl completely mystifies me.

"That's not why I'm crying. I'm crying because Clark and Lana are stupid." She acts as if I should know all this.

"Ok, Buffy. I'm obviously missing something. Tell me what's going on so I can help." I wipe the tears from her face with my thumb.

"They are stupid! They belong together and they don't even realize it! He's just going to let her go out with Whitney. She's just as bad!" Slowly the sobs are abating and anger is replacing them. "She's letting him go to Prom with Chloe! And it's so obvious they love each other, they are just stupid and stubborn. He thinks because he's got super hero powers he can't give her a normal life." Uh oh, this is starting to sound awfully familiar.

"Buffy, they are just TV characters." I try to use calm and reason with her.

"Clark needs to be smacked upside his big stupid head." She says petulantly.

I know I'm not going to win this argument. I don't know why I try, except that I can't stand to see her cry.

"Buffy, why don't we watch something else? David said he had a lot of different movies here." I flip open the console that hides the DVD's. "There's Star Wars and every episode of Star Trek known to man-"I trail off. "Ok so tell me about Lana and Clark."

*

It's mid afternoon when we land in London. I have the pleasure passing the time by watching the first season of Smallville. I want to smack Clark upside the head when we're done too. The kid does an incredible amount of whining for someone who is almost invulnerable. It'd be different if he'd gone on a murdering rampage and killed hundreds, or thousands, of people, then he might have a reason to whine. I am fairly certain I have never been so grateful to see nightfall.

One of the pilots knocks on the plane's door to let us know it's safe to come out. There is a cab waiting for us. David has arranged for us to stay in a bed and breakfast under an assumed name. It is only a short distance from the Watcher Council's headquarters. Somehow, and I'm guessing the somehow is green, he has managed to convince the owner of the bed and breakfast to leave the entire building to us. She suddenly came into enough money to take a luxury vacation to see her sister in New York. The bed and breakfast is comfortable. The refrigerator has been stocked with blood. There is a bomb shelter underneath the house. It's one of the solid concrete ones that were built during World War II. Buffy and I set up rooms in the shelter. Once we have everything in order I sit down on the bed next to her.

"Buffy, I'm going to go out and run some errands. I want to gather some information, from sources that won't be so forthcoming if I have the slayer with me." I know she's not going to like this. She doesn't have a choice in this matter.

"No problem, I'll stay out of sight." She says.

"No, I want you to stay here. You can lock yourself in here and you'll be safe from the council, or anything else that comes looking for us."

"Angel, I'm not letting you go out there by yourself. This is my problem. They wouldn't be after us if I hadn't-if it weren't for me." She crosses her arms over her chest.

Dear God, has there ever been a more stubborn woman born?

*

We're across the street from the Watcher's Council. It looks like any other building on the quiet English street. A passer by would never guess that it held information regarding all things demonic and mystical in this world and several others.

"Okay, Buffy, listen to me. We're going to do this my way. Once we get in, I'll find Geoff Smythe. If Wes is right, he's got a penthouse on the top floor. You will stay outside his apartment and keep watch. I'll go in and talk to him. You see anything or hear anything you knock on the door. I don't know what kind of directive they have regarding you, but I bet it's less friendly then it was when we left Sunnydale."

She nods in response to my whispered orders.

"Promise me, Buffy. I need to hear it. I can't lose you." I lean my forehead against hers, looking into her eyes.

"I promise." She whispers.

I place a kiss on her forehead and pull her into me. "I love you." If anything happens, she needs to know that.

She whispers I love you too as we start across the street. I knock on the door. It's opened within a few moments by a proper English butler.

"I'm here to see Mr. Smythe." I'll try civility first.

"I'm sorry; Mr. Smythe has retired for the evening. Perhaps if you'd like to call in the morning and arrange an appointment." The butler says as he begins to close the door.

I throw my shoulder into the door, cracking the thick English Oak. "I'm sorry, that's not going to work for me." I glare up at him through yellow eyes. Buffy grabs him by the neck and slams his head against the doorframe. He crumbles like a rag doll at our feet. I roll him out of the way with my foot and shut the door behind us. We perch near the foot of the stairs, listening to see if anyone else heard our entrance. After a few moments we creep up the stairs.

Lights shine from underneath one door on the second floor. The third floor has many doors and a few of them cast long strips of light in the darkened hallway. We move silently up to the fourth floor of the Watcher's Council. This is the floor Wes said would hold the penthouse. I twist the knob. It's locked. I twist harder and feel the lock break. I put a finger to my lips and motion for Buffy to stay where she's at. She nods.

Smythe's penthouse is dark. It doesn't matter to me. I can see well enough to read in the dark, navigating around a staunch English penthouse is a walk in a well lighted park. I open a door to an office and a guest room before finding the door to Smythe's bedroom. He is snoring loudly. I put on my game face. I intend to end things here tonight, once and for all.

I pass my hand over the dresser, knocking a crystal decanter of scotch to the ground. Smythe wakes up startled as it shatters.

"W-who's there?" His voice has that panic stricken tone that I would have once relished.

I take advantage of my speed, flipping on the light next to the bed. Terror sweeps over his face as he sees me. "Do you know who I am?"

He nods and gulps.

"Good. I trust the body bags made it back safely." I stand very close to the bed, my hands folded in front of me, looking down on his prone form. "You know why I'm here. I want you to call off your dogs."

"I'm afraid I can't do that. She killed Quentin Travers." He is a watcher born and raised. If it weren't for the fact that I can smell it coming off of him, I'd actually believe he wasn't scared.

"Then I'm afraid I will have to kill you and every single being associated with the Watcher's Council. I will make Angelus look like a saint." I hiss at him around my fangs.

"You've lost your soul then also?" he asks, the fear creeps back into his voice. No doubt he has read of Angelus' deeds.

"No, it's perfectly in tact. A soul doesn't necessitate goodness, Smythe. The council here is proof of that. A soul can be vengeful, murderous, and evil. You, or any of your men, hurt Buffy and you'll find out the bottomless depths of my vengefulness. I've got an eternity to hunt you down and make you pay for it. I won't just hunt you. I'll hunt your family, your friends, their friends. You get the picture." I lean in close to him. I wrap my hand around his throat and squeeze just hard enough. "Anyone finds out about this meeting, let's just say I'll give you a preview of what to expect. Now, when I ease up on my grip, I expect you to say Yes, Sir, and mean it."

The pitiful little man takes a big gulp of air and nods. "Yes, Sir."

"I'm glad we understand each other, Geoff. I'm a little disappointed though; I'm getting a bit puckish. It might be nice to have a snack."

Smythe picks up the phone by his bed with trembling hands. He dials a number, curses and hangs up then redials. "Smythe mohraslayer 239876." He gives his name, password and pass code and waits a moment. "Yes, this is Geoff Smythe. I'm immediately recalling all the special ops team after the Slayer. That's correct. We are no longer pursuing the Slayer. No, this isn't up for discussion. Yes, good night." He hangs up the phone and looks up at me.

I pat him on the cheek and kiss his forehead. "Very good, Geoff, very good. Have a pleasant evening."