51
Knox held up the bloody butcher knife. "Should we return this?" he asked Fred.
"I'd say a pretty safe bet would be, no," Fred replied, wrinkling her nose. "Would you want to prepare your food with a knife that had been used to kill someone?"
Knox shrugged. He'd been at Wolfram and Hart a while now, and his sensibilities were dulled. Besides, as a scientist, he knew that once the knife was run through a sterilizer there'd be no traces of the recently deceased lingering. The recently deceased now laid out on a table in front of them.
"They sure build them big, wherever he comes from," he remarked, putting the knife aside.
"That's the main reason we're doing an autopsy," Fred reminded him. "To see if we can find out where he came from."
"Are we analyzing the clothing as well?" Knox asked.
"No need to," Fred answered. "Stuff anyone could have picked up at the local Wal-Mart. We do have people searching to see if they can find whatever these guys discarded when they made their change."
"And if they find that, we'll analyze it?" Knox adjusted a light to shine directly on the chest of the corpse.
"Yeah, but I wouldn't hold my breath," Fred said. She pulled a mask over her face and picked up a scalpel. "Are we ready?"
&&&&&&
"Yes, we're running the background check now," Gunn assured the would-be client on the other end of the phone. "It shouldn't take long at all. Yes, I realize that Lord M'rek is a busy person, but there are procedures we have to follow here. I'm sorry about the delay, but it can't be helped."
After he hung up the phone, he sighed and rubbed his ear. If an underling had such a volatile temper, he hated to think what it would be like when they got to the employer. If they did. Background was having some trouble clearing this one. Still better to lose a client than to be on the wrong side. The firm had to turn a profit, true, but Angel was determined to do it without getting their hands dirty. Or at least any dirtier than they already were.
&&&&&&&
"I don't think I've ever seen orange blood in a humanoid before," Knox remarked. "That definitely proves that he's not from around here."
"We were pretty sure about that anyway," Fred commented. "They lasted a lot longer against Angel than ordinary humans would have done." She opened up the body along the incision she'd made. "Wow. I don't think he has any of the same organs we do. At least, not in the same shape and color as ours."
"No kidding," Knox agreed. "Do you want pictures?"
"Yeah, that would probably be a good idea," Fred replied. "There's no telling when or if we'll ever have someone like this on the table again, so we'd better do some thorough documentation."
&&&&&&&
The four remaining warriors were locked up in holding, and without saying a word had made it clear that they were not happy with the situation. Angel was pacing in front of the cells now, and Spike was lounged against a wall, arms crossed, looking as nonchalant as they came.
"Wonder who thought they needed five big, strapping fellas like that just to grab one helpless woman," Spike drawled. "I'd be real interested in finding that out. Wouldn't you too, Peaches?"
Angel sighed. He hadn't heard that particular nickname in a while. He had almost allowed himself the vain hope that Spike had dropped it completely. He should have known better. "We'll find out," he assured Spike. "With or without their help, we'll find out. Of course, with would be quicker."
One of the captives, from the way the others seemed to defer to him, the leader, glared at the vampires defiantly as if daring them to do their worst.
&&&&&&
"Oh my god," Fred gasped. "His tongue has been cut out. And not recently. It's been healed for quite some time. And a neat job was made of it too. Surgical, not out and out brutality. But why?"
"Maybe because the kind of missions this guy went on they figured that the best way to keep him from talking was to make sure he couldn't talk at all," offered Knox. "I wonder if his four friends in holding have had theirs removed too?"
"There's one way to find out," Fred said grimly, removing her gloves and pulling out a cell phone.
&&&&&&&
Angel's cell phone rang. He hated those things. Always interrupting at the most inopportune moment. He pulled it out. "I'm kind of busy now," he started off, without so much as a hello. "What? Some people take security too damned far. I'll check." He walked up the bars of the cell. "Open your mouth," he directed the nearest one, giving him an example in case he didn't understand English. The prisoner complied. "Shit," Angel muttered. "Looks like they're all the same Fred. No one's going to be talking here."
"What was that all about?" asked Spike, who hadn't been paying attention. He'd been thinking of ways to pry information out of the uncooperative sods.
"We're not going to get any information out of them," Angel said in disgust. "Because none of them has a tongue. Nice trick, huh? Make sure that if your operatives get caught they can't spill anything."
Whether the prisoners understood English or not, they did seem to have some idea of what was going on. There were soft eerie chuckles and smug grins.
"I don't like their attitudes," Spike remarked. "Why don't you turn them over to me and I'll let my lads use them for target practice."
"We can't do that, Spike," Angel replied, rolling his eyes. "We're supposed to be the good guys, remember?"
"And they're the bad guys," Spike pointed out. "We take out the bad guys. That's supposed to be what good guys do, isn't it?"
"Can't you ever play by the rules?" Angel asked in exasperation. "One of the rules being that the good guys don't kill prisoners without a good reason."
"They tried to grab Rose and the kids," Spike replied. "That's good enough reason for me." His eyes were tinged with yellow.
"Calm down, Spike," Angel cautioned, placing a hand on his chest, just in case. "We still may be able to find out a few things from these guys, even if they can't talk. And they might have some value as hostages."
"You always were too squeamish," Spike muttered. "Look, dickhead, these boobs aren't worth jack as hostages. If whoever controls them goes to the trouble of cutting their tongues out so they can't talk, then they're not going to be putting themselves out to get them back. This lot is nothing but cannon fodder. Expendable." He shook himself. "And get your sodding hand off me."
Angel frowned. Spike did have a point about the value of their captives as hostages. He would never say so, but Spike's pragmatism sometimes was the perfect balance for his own idealism. And vice versa. But he really hated it when Spike was right.
&&&&&&
"Here you go, Wes." Fred handed him a folder. "Pictures and diagrams and all the details. Everything that forensic science could find out about the guy."
"Thank you, Fred." Wesley took the folder and flipped through it. "Maybe I'd better attend to this on my own." He'd been working with Rose all day, she'd only just stepped out for a moment. "I don't want to subject Rose to these right now."
"How's she holding up?" Fred asked. "She's got all the surprise and confusion of a baby on the way, and then she finds out she's in the middle of a prophecy that makes her a target for the bad guys. A lot of people couldn't deal with that."
"I think Rose can handle a great deal more than most people give her credit for," Wesley replied. "Me included. Must be the masculine stereotype coming to the fore. We see something, or someone small and pretty, and our instincts say that we ought to protect it, or her." The way he was looking at her led Fred to believe that somehow the subject had wandered away from Rose. And at the moment, she didn't really care.
"Is that how you feel?" she asked softly. She let her eyes meet his.
"Some of the time," he admitted.
"What about the rest of the time?" Fred prompted.
"The rest of the time I feel like this," Wes muttered, bending down to kiss her.
Rose was just returning from a trip to the ladies room. The door was ajar, so she started to walk on in. Then she saw what was going on and backed out, quickly and quietly and gently pulled the door shut, smiling all the while. She decided that it was late enough in the day that she could call it quits. She was pretty sure that Wesley wouldn't miss her.
&&&&&&&
"Have the scryers found the vessel's new dwelling?" M'rek demanded.
"No, Lord," Kraj answered miserably. "They have not. They say that there is something obscuring their readings. Perhaps if one of them were actually transported to the city, it might get by enough of the interference to pinpoint the vessel's location again."
"What of this 'law firm'?" M'rek pressed on, ignoring the question. "Why have they not yet accepted our custom?"
"They are checking out our history to see if we meet their standards," Kraj replied with a frown. "I am afraid that acceptance is far from assured at the moment, dread Lord."
"They would dare to deny us?" M'rek's nose went in the air in a disdainful sniff. "A common place of business would refuse to serve me, who rule whole dimensions?"
"The souled one is very particular about who his business serves," Kraj replied at his toadying, whining best. "I have done and will do all that is within my feeble power to facilitate our entrance to the place though, rest assured, my Lord."
"I have faith in you, Kraj," M'rek allowed, then spoiled it by adding. "Or rather let us say that I have faith that you will do whatever you deem necessary to save your own unworthy hide."
"Truly, my Lord." Kraj backed out, bowing.
&&&&&&&&
Since Rose had quit a little early, she had Angel's apartment all to herself for a while. Her first act was to step out of her shoes. No matter what she did anymore, her feet ached. She picked them up and carried them into the bedroom that she shared with Spike. She wanted to get out of her work clothes, too. They weren't feeling as comfortable as they usually did. She looked through her available clothes critically. Spike had made sure that all her new clothes had been brought here. Well, why not? It wasn't as though anyone but Spike and Angel were going to see her tonight, and she felt a sudden desire to wear some of her new clothes anyway. A top that was fairly simply tailored. The only touches that kept it from being utterly dreary were a slight flaring of material at the wrist that just missed being a ruffle, and the soft, rose-pink color. A pair of white slacks. She eyed herself in the mirror. She couldn't tell for sure if it was the clothes or her, but she could swear that she was starting to get fat.
&&&&&&&
Spike and Angel argued all the way up to the penthouse, and so far, neither of them had budged an inch. Spike was all for killing the marauders, and Angel was still holding out for keeping them alive. What he hadn't told Spike was that unless drastic steps were taken, they probably wouldn't be alive for that much longer anyway. None of them would touch any of the food or drink they had been offered since their incarceration.
The argument cut off abruptly at the apartment door, neither one of them wanting to upset Rose. Angel opened the door slowly, not wanting to startle her. No sign of Rose, but her scent was in the air, so she had to be here somewhere.
They found her sprawled out on the sofa, looking even more delicate than usual in the as yet unnecessary maternity clothes. A half-drunk glass of juice on the table beside her. On the floor in front of her, where it had obviously slid off her lap was a book of baby names. Her eyelids fluttered in the throes of a dream.
Angel looked at Spike, who was looking, where else? at Rose. He had to admit that he'd never seen that particular expression on Spike's face before he'd met Rose.
"Poor poppet," Spike murmured fondly. "Wish I could persuade her to chuck in the job for a while. She's wearing herself out with it."
"Maybe it won't be so bad once she gets a little more adjusted to the pregnancy," Angel replied softly. "And you'd better hope that her labor starts in the middle of the night or on a weekend. If it happens while she's working, Wes would probably end up delivering the kids."
Spike looked absolutely aghast at the notion. "I'll have to have a word with her about that," he muttered. "I'm not entirely sure that I trust her doctor, but I'd a sight rather have him doing it than the Watcher." He knelt on the floor beside her, and stroked her cheek gently, and her eyes slowly opened.
"Hello, love, Angel," she greeted them, sitting up. She yawned, trying to wake up. "I didn't mean to fall asleep. I thought I was supposed to be eating for myself and however many babies I'm carrying." She gave Spike a look that said she still wasn't willing to concede his diagnosis was correct. "I didn't think I'd be sleeping for more than one."
"Have you eaten yet, babe?" Spike asked softly, brushing a tousled lock of hair out of her face. Not but what he wouldn't take any excuse to touch her.
Rose shook her head. "I was waiting for the two of you to get back," she replied. "I thought I'd just sit here and look at my book, and I guess I just dropped off."
Angel retrieved the book. "Have you found anything you like yet?" he asked.
"Well..," Rose looked at the book, at Angel and Spike, and giggled. "I guess not."
"You're bloody well not naming one of our kids Liam," Spike said flatly. "I'm not really too keen on William, either."
Rose pouted a bit. "You're no fun," she complained. "And since we don't know yet, we really ought to consider a girl's name too."
"Two of each," Spike said. "I know you're not willing to believe it yet, sweetheart, but there's two of them. And since we don't know if they're boys or girls or one of each, best to be prepared." He leaned his head down to listen. Definitely two infant heartbeats. He wished he had someone to share this with. Rose couldn't have heard it even if she could bend in such an awkward position. Then, he realized that there was someone there to share it with, and that he kind of owed him, much as he hated to admit it. He looked up at Angel. "You want to listen?"
Angel's eyes nearly bugged out of his head at the invitation. He totally approved of the influence that Rose had on Spike, but there were times when a kinder, gentler Spike just threw him for a loop. He joined Spike on the floor, and as Spike moved out of his way, rested his ear against Rose's stomach. A smile spread across his face, hearing the fluttering heartbeat. He concentrated and listened harder. Yes, Spike was right. They were almost in sync with each other, which made it hard to pick out, but there were two of them. He looked up at Rose.
"Two of each, Rose," he advised. "Spike may not be the sharpest pencil in the box, but he does have good ears."
Spike grinned and flipped him off. A perfect little family moment.