"How could Angel have done this to us?" Wesley asked no one in
particular, depressed. He looked to his side and saw that Fred was
staring at him.
"What?"
Fred shook her head. "Nothing, nothing, it's just... well, your scar is gone."
Wesley felt his neck where the scar should've been. "You're right," he mumbled. He then turned his head away and said, his voice hoarse, "Fred, he must hate me. After all I've done..."
"Of course he doesn't hate you," Fred reassured, putting her hand on his shoulder. "He... he put you in charge of his Research Department!" Wesley gave her a look and she said, "Okay, not so good example. But he does care about you, Wesley."
Wesley smiled and kissed her forehead. "Thank you."
They walked in silence to Angel's office and opened the door.
Which, they were now realising, was a mistake.
"ANGELUS!" Fred shouted, marching over to the couch. "You spit that out right. now!" Angelus just growled at her and chomped down harder on Spike's arm.
"Freeeed!" Spike whined, trying to get his other arm free from Angelus's grip. "He's ruining my coat!"
Fred couldn't let that happen--it was a really great coat--so, with help from an amused Wesley, she pulled Angelus off of Spike.
Spike fell back on the couch, cradling his arm and sniffling, while Fred and Wesley held Angelus down. He wasn't exactly fighting them, though, because he was too busy sulking.
"I can't believe you two," Fred said, hands on her hips. "We leave you alone for one--"
"Fifteen," Wesley whispered.
"--fifteen minutes, and you act like--"
"Emotionally challenged vampire puppets?" Spike offered.
"Well, yeah. And shut your mouth while I'm trying to lecture you! Now, me and Wes have to go somewhere for a while, and while we're gone you better behave yourselves. Or we'll bring Harmony in here to watch you."
Both puppets had identical looks of horror on their faces and chorused, "We'll be good."
"As long as Angelus doesn't steal the remote," Spike muttered.
"That show was freakin' evil!" Angelus shouted back.
"So! It was still educational!"
"Yeah, to a two-year-old, maybe..."
"ENOUGH!!" Fred shouted, looking on the verge of puppet-homicide herself. "Angelus, go to your closet."
"What?"
"You heard me. You. Closet. Now."
Angelus glared. "You are so fired," he said, walking over to the closet, slamming the door after he went inside.
Spike smirked, and Fred said to him, "Spike, no more Smile Time." Spike's smirk automatically became a frown.
"But Fred..."
"No."
He gave her his best pouty face and she had to turn around to resist it.
"No," she repeated. "The show is evil, and it's driving Angelus insane... if he isn't already."
Wesley locked the closet door and set the key on Angel's desk. "That should hold him," he told Fred.
"Okay," Fred said, heading towards the door. "I told Lorne to check in on you every once in a while, and we should be back in no more than a few more hours. No Smile Time, Spike, and no taunting from your closet, Angelus. If everything isn't exactly the same when I come back, I'll kill you. See ya!"
Wesley looked impressed by Fred as he left with her, and Spike just stared at the door, disturbed and bored.
"Now what am I supposed to do?" Spike complained.
"You could let me out!" Angelus offered, but Spike ignored him, looking around the room. He walked over to Angel's desk, smiling.
"I think I thought of something fun to do."
--a bit of mischief later--
Spike sat on Angel's desk, surrounded by its contents, and sighed.
"Now what's there to do?" he asked himself. "I've gone through all his stuff and found nothing interesting, except for a chocolate bar, a stake, and this little doll with pins in it... that looks a lot like me," he realized, studying the doll.
After poking the doll and feeling no pain himself (you never could tell with Angel), Spike threw it to the side and looked up just as Lorne walked into the room.
"Hey, don't you know how to knock, mate?" Spike said, hopping off of the desk. "For all you know I could've been naked."
Lorne gave Spike a weird look, then said, "You know, after everything I've seen, a naked puppet doesn't really sound as horrifying as it should. Which is kind of horrifying in itself."
Spike pulled his coat tighter around himself and glared. "What d'you want?"
"Fred told me to stop in and check on you bad boys, so here I am, stopping and checking. Is Mr. Soulless behaving himself?"
Spike shrugged. "Haven't heard a peep from him since the happy couple took off."
Lorne considered looking in on Angelus, but then decided firmly against it. "Well, I'm off, sweetheart," he said, heading back out the door. "By the way, if you happen to see Gunn, send him my way, will ya?"
"Sure," Spike said, not really paying attention, though. In his head, he was forming a plan.
"Oh yeah," he said, smiling widely.
--an hour or so later (really, who's keeping time?)--
"I don't get it," Connor said, stepping into Wesley's office at Wolfram and Hart, closely followed by Wesley and Fred.
"I know it's a lot to take in at once..." Wesley began.
"No, that's not it," Connor said, growing steadily angrier. "What I don't get is why you two are being so calm about this. He... he messed with your minds, used magic on you, and you forgive him just like that?"
"Connor," Fred reassured, stepping closer to the boy, "Angel did have his reasons. He did what was necessary to protect you, to... to save you."
"Save me?" Connor snorted in disbelief. "He made me live a lie. Made me believe I was normal, and happy, and... loved. All I really was was ignorant." Connor looked down and Wesley touched his shoulder in what he hoped was a comforting gesture.
"You are loved," Wesley whispered.
Not looking up, Connor simply replied, "You can't be saved by a lie."
Wesley's response was almost immediate. "But you can be saved."
This time Connor did look up. He briefly studied Wesley in awe, as if seeing him for the first time, and then he walked out of the office.
"That was really beautiful," Fred told Wesley, embracing him.
"Yes, I suppose it was," came the quiet reply.
"And if we don't chase him now, that boy's gonna be lost to us forever."
"I just realized that, yes," Wesley said, and they both sprinted out of the office and after Connor.
--a bit of chasing later--
"So where is he?" asked Connor after Fred and Wesley had caught up with him.
"You mean Angel?" Fred asked a bit breathlessly.
"Yes, him. Where is he? I'm having trouble tracking his scent in this place."
"Hey, all!" Gunn said, walking up to them with a briefcase in his hand. "Where's our itty bitty boss?" Wesley and Fred exchanged a look and Gunn noticed Connor.
"Oh, we have a new client?" He held out his hand. "I'm Charles Gunn, the law of the operation. And you are...?" Connor didn't answer, but instead turned towards Wesley and Fred.
"What's wrong with him?" he asked, referring to Gunn.
Gunn raised an eyebrow. "Oookay, apparently teenager's got an attitude. What's the deal?"
"Could I please see your briefcase for a moment?" Wesley asked politely. Gunn handed it to him, but was clearly still confused. The confusion didn't last long, however, because Wesley swung the briefcase into the side of Gunn's head with a loud THWACK, and Gunn fell to the floor, unconscious.
"Cool," Connor commented, smiling, but Fred didn't share his amusement. She helped Wesley pick Gunn up.
"Was that really necessary?" she asked timidly.
"I didn't hit him hard enough to cause head trauma. He should be fine in a few hours," Wesley replied, grunting under the weight of his unconscious friend.
"Fine, maybe, but he's sure gonna be pissed at you."
Wesley laughed. "Oh, I'm sure I'm not the only one he's going to be pissed at."
--meanwhile, on the other side of the building--
"C'mon, Angelus, answer me! I know you're in there!" Spike shouted at the closet, pounding on the door (although his hands were soft and didn't make too much noise).
After doing this for five minutes and getting no response, Spike gave up.
"Wanker's as stubborn as the Nibblet sometimes," Spike muttered, remembering the times when Dawn would lock herself in her room and sulk. Then something in his brain clicked. Nibblet equals Dawn, who equals the Key, which equals...
"The key to the closet!" Spike shouted, and he ran to Angel's desk. Searching through the papers, he found the key Wesley had left and ran back to the closet with it (all the running was a result of Spike's puppet excitability).
Unlocking the door, Spike opened it, and what he saw certainly wasn't what he expected.
"Oh, balls."
TO BE CONTINUED...
"What?"
Fred shook her head. "Nothing, nothing, it's just... well, your scar is gone."
Wesley felt his neck where the scar should've been. "You're right," he mumbled. He then turned his head away and said, his voice hoarse, "Fred, he must hate me. After all I've done..."
"Of course he doesn't hate you," Fred reassured, putting her hand on his shoulder. "He... he put you in charge of his Research Department!" Wesley gave her a look and she said, "Okay, not so good example. But he does care about you, Wesley."
Wesley smiled and kissed her forehead. "Thank you."
They walked in silence to Angel's office and opened the door.
Which, they were now realising, was a mistake.
"ANGELUS!" Fred shouted, marching over to the couch. "You spit that out right. now!" Angelus just growled at her and chomped down harder on Spike's arm.
"Freeeed!" Spike whined, trying to get his other arm free from Angelus's grip. "He's ruining my coat!"
Fred couldn't let that happen--it was a really great coat--so, with help from an amused Wesley, she pulled Angelus off of Spike.
Spike fell back on the couch, cradling his arm and sniffling, while Fred and Wesley held Angelus down. He wasn't exactly fighting them, though, because he was too busy sulking.
"I can't believe you two," Fred said, hands on her hips. "We leave you alone for one--"
"Fifteen," Wesley whispered.
"--fifteen minutes, and you act like--"
"Emotionally challenged vampire puppets?" Spike offered.
"Well, yeah. And shut your mouth while I'm trying to lecture you! Now, me and Wes have to go somewhere for a while, and while we're gone you better behave yourselves. Or we'll bring Harmony in here to watch you."
Both puppets had identical looks of horror on their faces and chorused, "We'll be good."
"As long as Angelus doesn't steal the remote," Spike muttered.
"That show was freakin' evil!" Angelus shouted back.
"So! It was still educational!"
"Yeah, to a two-year-old, maybe..."
"ENOUGH!!" Fred shouted, looking on the verge of puppet-homicide herself. "Angelus, go to your closet."
"What?"
"You heard me. You. Closet. Now."
Angelus glared. "You are so fired," he said, walking over to the closet, slamming the door after he went inside.
Spike smirked, and Fred said to him, "Spike, no more Smile Time." Spike's smirk automatically became a frown.
"But Fred..."
"No."
He gave her his best pouty face and she had to turn around to resist it.
"No," she repeated. "The show is evil, and it's driving Angelus insane... if he isn't already."
Wesley locked the closet door and set the key on Angel's desk. "That should hold him," he told Fred.
"Okay," Fred said, heading towards the door. "I told Lorne to check in on you every once in a while, and we should be back in no more than a few more hours. No Smile Time, Spike, and no taunting from your closet, Angelus. If everything isn't exactly the same when I come back, I'll kill you. See ya!"
Wesley looked impressed by Fred as he left with her, and Spike just stared at the door, disturbed and bored.
"Now what am I supposed to do?" Spike complained.
"You could let me out!" Angelus offered, but Spike ignored him, looking around the room. He walked over to Angel's desk, smiling.
"I think I thought of something fun to do."
--a bit of mischief later--
Spike sat on Angel's desk, surrounded by its contents, and sighed.
"Now what's there to do?" he asked himself. "I've gone through all his stuff and found nothing interesting, except for a chocolate bar, a stake, and this little doll with pins in it... that looks a lot like me," he realized, studying the doll.
After poking the doll and feeling no pain himself (you never could tell with Angel), Spike threw it to the side and looked up just as Lorne walked into the room.
"Hey, don't you know how to knock, mate?" Spike said, hopping off of the desk. "For all you know I could've been naked."
Lorne gave Spike a weird look, then said, "You know, after everything I've seen, a naked puppet doesn't really sound as horrifying as it should. Which is kind of horrifying in itself."
Spike pulled his coat tighter around himself and glared. "What d'you want?"
"Fred told me to stop in and check on you bad boys, so here I am, stopping and checking. Is Mr. Soulless behaving himself?"
Spike shrugged. "Haven't heard a peep from him since the happy couple took off."
Lorne considered looking in on Angelus, but then decided firmly against it. "Well, I'm off, sweetheart," he said, heading back out the door. "By the way, if you happen to see Gunn, send him my way, will ya?"
"Sure," Spike said, not really paying attention, though. In his head, he was forming a plan.
"Oh yeah," he said, smiling widely.
--an hour or so later (really, who's keeping time?)--
"I don't get it," Connor said, stepping into Wesley's office at Wolfram and Hart, closely followed by Wesley and Fred.
"I know it's a lot to take in at once..." Wesley began.
"No, that's not it," Connor said, growing steadily angrier. "What I don't get is why you two are being so calm about this. He... he messed with your minds, used magic on you, and you forgive him just like that?"
"Connor," Fred reassured, stepping closer to the boy, "Angel did have his reasons. He did what was necessary to protect you, to... to save you."
"Save me?" Connor snorted in disbelief. "He made me live a lie. Made me believe I was normal, and happy, and... loved. All I really was was ignorant." Connor looked down and Wesley touched his shoulder in what he hoped was a comforting gesture.
"You are loved," Wesley whispered.
Not looking up, Connor simply replied, "You can't be saved by a lie."
Wesley's response was almost immediate. "But you can be saved."
This time Connor did look up. He briefly studied Wesley in awe, as if seeing him for the first time, and then he walked out of the office.
"That was really beautiful," Fred told Wesley, embracing him.
"Yes, I suppose it was," came the quiet reply.
"And if we don't chase him now, that boy's gonna be lost to us forever."
"I just realized that, yes," Wesley said, and they both sprinted out of the office and after Connor.
--a bit of chasing later--
"So where is he?" asked Connor after Fred and Wesley had caught up with him.
"You mean Angel?" Fred asked a bit breathlessly.
"Yes, him. Where is he? I'm having trouble tracking his scent in this place."
"Hey, all!" Gunn said, walking up to them with a briefcase in his hand. "Where's our itty bitty boss?" Wesley and Fred exchanged a look and Gunn noticed Connor.
"Oh, we have a new client?" He held out his hand. "I'm Charles Gunn, the law of the operation. And you are...?" Connor didn't answer, but instead turned towards Wesley and Fred.
"What's wrong with him?" he asked, referring to Gunn.
Gunn raised an eyebrow. "Oookay, apparently teenager's got an attitude. What's the deal?"
"Could I please see your briefcase for a moment?" Wesley asked politely. Gunn handed it to him, but was clearly still confused. The confusion didn't last long, however, because Wesley swung the briefcase into the side of Gunn's head with a loud THWACK, and Gunn fell to the floor, unconscious.
"Cool," Connor commented, smiling, but Fred didn't share his amusement. She helped Wesley pick Gunn up.
"Was that really necessary?" she asked timidly.
"I didn't hit him hard enough to cause head trauma. He should be fine in a few hours," Wesley replied, grunting under the weight of his unconscious friend.
"Fine, maybe, but he's sure gonna be pissed at you."
Wesley laughed. "Oh, I'm sure I'm not the only one he's going to be pissed at."
--meanwhile, on the other side of the building--
"C'mon, Angelus, answer me! I know you're in there!" Spike shouted at the closet, pounding on the door (although his hands were soft and didn't make too much noise).
After doing this for five minutes and getting no response, Spike gave up.
"Wanker's as stubborn as the Nibblet sometimes," Spike muttered, remembering the times when Dawn would lock herself in her room and sulk. Then something in his brain clicked. Nibblet equals Dawn, who equals the Key, which equals...
"The key to the closet!" Spike shouted, and he ran to Angel's desk. Searching through the papers, he found the key Wesley had left and ran back to the closet with it (all the running was a result of Spike's puppet excitability).
Unlocking the door, Spike opened it, and what he saw certainly wasn't what he expected.
"Oh, balls."
TO BE CONTINUED...