REPRECUSSIONS
Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters except for the ones that I created, like Kelli.
Author's Note: Sorry for this being so late but I was almost done with this chapter when my computer somehow deleted it, forcing me to write it all over.
CHAPTER 20-REWRITE
Angel knew the intermingling scents well, not together like they were at the moment but each individually. He had caught the scent first on Wesley years earlier; smiling awkwardly at the scent of a bleached blonde had hit his nose. The scent had seemingly radiated off of Faith almost continuously for years, although with each male half of the scent being different. But on this night, as Angel tiredly pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed deeply he couldn't help but draw in the scent of two of his best friends taking the initiative in their relationship and not letting an opportunity slip by them. Angel had posted a few guards near the recovery room that Wesley had been brought into, making sure that he had only selected the deaf guards to keep watch over the area that night. Much to his surprise Angel had discovered that for many jobs deaf guards were ideal, for they were not prone to falling for the simplest of distractions and were also less likely to be caught goofing off by listening to music or something of that nature. Instead he found them to often take the job more seriously than the rest of the guards and he often found himself embroiled in one conversation or another with them, after nervously asking Fred to teach him sign language, only to be interrupted by the duties of his position.
"Sir…the report that you asked for is finished, Ms. Hancock will brief you on the details shortly," One of the lab techs told Angel, with an absolutely petrified smile of respect on his face, before he nearly sprinted back to the hastily set up lab to continue research.
"Ms. Hancock, hmm…I don't remember anyone by that name," Fred wondered with a confused and not completely approving pout on her face as she followed Angel into the conference room, which was housed in one massive trailer that had been built to be a fully capable mobile base for Wolfram and Hart.
"Maybe she's new, don't know if you've checked lately Fred but our turnover rate is astronomical," Gunn sullenly added with a shrug of his shoulders as he pulled out a seat and unceremoniously slumped down into it.
"But how…I mean sure we've fired a lot of people and demons since taking over but…," Fred asked with an impatient, at there being a problem that she didn't know the answer to, frown on her face as she put he reading glasses on and turned to Angel.
"Gunn means that our employees have a nasty habit of dying in the line of duty, hazards of working for an evil law firm I guess," Angel replied with a tired and nervous sigh as he slipped into the head chair and looked around the room, hoping that the briefing wouldn't be to long.
"How's Wesley," Lorne asked glumly as he sat down in his own seat, holding a bag of ice to his throbbing head in one hand while swirling the ice cubes around in his drink with the other.
"The doctors say that he'll recover, they're not sure if he'll have full range of motion yet…but we can always be optimistic about his chances right…," Angel started to reply with a bored frown on his face before a door at the far end of the room slid open and a young, at least to Angel, woman slowly and calmly strolled into the room, her arms full of files and notebooks. Feeling antsy and nervous Angel bolted upright out of his seat and hurried around the table. "Here let me help you with, those…," Angel started to say with his best winning smile before the young woman turned to him and her eyes grew wide as she took a quick step back, seemingly not being completely sure about what is was that Angel wanted. "Wait…I'm not going to…," Angel blurted out with a worried and confused frown on his face before he turned back towards the table, silently pleading for help.
"Uh Angel-cakes…maybe it'd be best if you sat back down and let me handle this, you seem to be scaring the pretty lady," Lorne offered with a hopeful smile on his face as he slowly got up from his chair and made his way around the table.
"Okay…," Angel said softly with still a confused and somewhat apprehensive expression on his face before he reluctantly made his way back to his seat and sat down, his gaze fixed firmly on the young woman, who didn't seem to be the least bit intimidated by Lorne as she calmly set the stack of files and notebooks down onto the conference table and turned to face Lorne. Angel watched carefully as Lorne proceeded to talk softly to the woman, making sure to look as peaceable and harmless as possible. Just when he was about to mutter an off color joke under his breath Angel snapped to attention as the young woman cocked her head to one side and signed a question to Lorne. "She's deaf…," Angel muttered softly under his breath in shock before Fred turned to him and scowled heavily.
"Well everyone…this is the lovely Ms. Hancock, she just transferred in from the Miami office, and as you may have noticed she's…," Lorne began politely after signing a few more questions and getting a seemingly positive answer, every few seconds turning back to Ms. Hancock to seemingly get her approval to continue, as he turned back to look at Angel across the table.
"Deaf…yeah Lorne we can see that, thanks," Angel interrupted with an impatient and somewhat guilty scowl on his face as he glanced down at the files in front of him on the table and tried to look overly busy.
"Now Angel, there's no need to be rude, Julia here is going to be briefing us…," Lorne shot back with a rather scolding look on his face as his red eyes glared straight at Angel before the vampire threw his hands up in defeat and sighed deeply.
"Fine Lorne…you win, alright Ms. Hancock…proceed," Angel stated with a rather glum frown on his face as he leaned back in his chair and rested a blank pad of paper on the arm of the chair, aimlessly doodling away as the briefing began.
Faith carefully and lightly traced the scar around his right wrist with her index finger before she did the same with the scar on his left wrist. After finishing she stared at them silently for several seconds, remembering each second of the encounter all of those years ago as she had gleefully lashed him to a chair before trying to break him. To keep the uprising of emotions within from consuming her she moved on to other some of the other scars that seemed to create a grisly road map across his flesh. She began making mental notes of each scar, cringing slightly as she came upon one that she remembered having given him or at the sight of her heart would flutter sharply, giving her cause to believe that she had inflicted that pain upon him even though her memory did not contain the engram of that act. Her heart almost leapt out of her chest as she caught sight of, through a wide yawn, a rather familiar scar. She knew that she had not given him that scar that night, or any other night that she had known him for that matter, because she had not used any firearms in her act of rebellion that night. The scar looked a more than a couple of years old and Faith furiously wracked her brain to try to remember if she had received a visitor during that time. A bone chilling memory awkwardly and abruptly screamed through her head like a runaway locomotive. Nearly three years earlier Angel had come to visit her and tried his best to sound upbeat and cheerful but she had seen through his façade even before he had begun speaking. There had been such a sadness in his eyes that night that Faith had been sure that someone close to him had died. She had clenched her hands into fists so tight that her fingernails had dug into her palms, drawing blood, to keep from almost outright begging Angel to tell her who it was. But that night Angel had reformed his resolve and had used a flimsy excuse about him being tired and the work getting to him to explain his appearance and almost ghostlike posture in the chair across the glass from her. The day that she had been liberated from prison she had expected it to be Angel, and truth be told when Wesley had sat down on the other side of the glass she had seen that very same look in his eyes. She had nearly bolted back to her cell at the sight but fought back against her inner demons and slouched down into the seat, giving him one of her usual sarcastic one liners. But as the short conversation progressed she caught wind of something else in both his posture and the look in his eyes. The bleak and terrified look that he had come in with was gone, replaced beautifully with a gaze that had riveted her straight to her seat. In the depthless blue sea of his gaze she had seen first flaking glimpses of hope, cast about like flowers at a funeral after a loved one's passing, before the flint had been struck and the kindling of another, much more powerful, emotion set ablaze.
What she had seen in his eyes that day had scared her and had almost become the stuff of nightmares, at least for Faith, before he had arrived in Sunnydale nearly clinging to life. Her heart had fought valiantly against her head, and fears, in her treatment of her former watcher those first few hours after he had passed out, finally winning out in the end. Silently Faith turned her gaze momentarily away from Wesley and looked around the room, wondering if the feelings that were welling up inside of her before bursting out like a volcano's eruption were what if felt like to truly be in love. She had heard countless sober and drunk bar patrons and what Faith termed, losers, on television wailing on and on about what love was and how to find it. But now, as it seemed that love had quietly snuck up from behind and burrowed deep into her heart, she found that she no longer cared if she knew exactly what true love was or if it were even possible. But she knew that the feelings that stirred within her whenever she turned back to look at Wesley were ones that she wanted to explore further, giving them the time and patience that she guessed that they'd need to blossom. Pouting sadly Faith had to bite her bottom lip to keep from letting a few tears slip out as she resumed her tallying of the scars crisscrossing her lover's body. As she came to realize that sleep was quickly coming to claim her she leaned down and gently placed a kiss on Wesley's lips before laying her head back down over his heart and muttering, more as a promise to herself and as a threat to anyone anywhere that might be listening, "I won't let anyone hurt you ever again Wes…I promise." And with that her eyes closed and she was asleep.
"So where do you think the wanker is, busy coming up with new ways to be a complete git," Spike asked playfully with a sly smirk on his face as he and Buffy walked slowly down a hallway towards a room that they had been directed to go to and wait for Riley's arrival.
"Possibly…but I'm hoping that he's actually here because he and the Initiative want to help, rather than just getting in our way…again," Buffy replied with a slight shrug of her shoulders, an act that instantly brought with it a hiss of pain and Buffy nearly doubling over in pain as the effects of the drugs that she had been given while asleep had started to wear off.
"Buffy…," Spike exclaimed with a very worried and exasperated look on his face as he rushed to her side and slipped an arm around her waist, being careful not to put any pressure on her injured shoulder.
"No…I'm okay, really," Buffy replied weakly, softly pushing Spike back before she straightened up and leaned in and gave him an apologetic kiss after spying the hurt look on his face.
"Alright pet, but if that happens again I'm taking you back to bed," Spike said softly as he stared down at Buffy while trying to sound firm and unwavering.
"Mmm…that a promise Spike…if I'm a bad girl you'll…," Buffy joked back, letting her voice, full of innuendo, trail off at just the right point as she started to lean back in for another kiss before they were rudely interrupted by a voice from the doorway of the room just a few feet in front of them.
"You're late," Riley interjected with an annoyed scowl on his face and his arms crossed as he glared down the hallway at Spike and Buffy.
"So what soldier boy, gonna give us detention," Spike quickly quipped back with a daring and sly grin on his face while the twinkling in his eyes gave him away as Buffy knew that Spike was only pumping himself up for a full blown argument with Riley.
"Something like that…," Riley replied with a delighted smirk on his face before he turned and walked fully into the room, finally coming to a stop behind a long rectangular table, taking a seat to the right of an elderly man that looked like he had been alive since the beginning of time.
"What the…okay I don't know who all of you people are but…," Buffy began to ask with a nervous smile on her face, as she looked back and forth at the faces seated behind the table, before she was rudely interrupted by a rather stern looking woman that would have made a pile of mud look good.
"That's quite enough Ms. Summers, sit down, you to vampire," The old woman stated with a very scornful and disappointed scowl on her face as she pointed to two very uncomfortable looking chairs set in the middle of the room, far away from any of the others.
"I have a name you know, you'd be wise to remember that luv," Spike gruffly protested with an angry glare on his face that Buffy knew well, it was one that was only reserved for those that Spike could and would never get along with even if he lived to be well over a thousand.
"We're well aware of that demon, we'll remember to put it on your tombstone after this is over…or maybe a doggie bag would be more appropriate in your case sine when we're through with you there'll only be a pitiful pile of dust left over…he he," The old man cackled with a delighted and very mocking tone to his voice as he only barely looked Buffy's way and made it a point to not look anywhere close to Spike before returning his gaze down to the papers in front of him.
"You sound pretty sure of yourself mate…what if I'm not inclined to play along," Spike exclaimed with a daring but yet very threatening sneer on his face as he tried to glare a hole straight through the old man.
"Whether you volunteer or not vampire, we will get what we want," The old man calmly replied with a readily cocky smirk on his face before the room was suddenly filled with Initiative guards, each making it clear that it would be futile for Buffy or Spike to attempt any form of escape or to make any attempt on the life or health any of those sitting behind the table.
"Yeah…and what's that, Viagra," Spike joked back quickly as he seemed to be beginning to enjoy trading barbs even through the overwhelming odds stacked against them while Buffy turned away and tried her best to keep from allowing the edges of her mouth to curl up into a smile.
"Truly pathetic…no, if you have not noticed by now we are fully in control, and unlike the last ruling council we will not let such an opportunity slip through our fingers again, a vampire with a soul and the longest living slayer in history, after we slice you both up we will learn your secrets," The old man interjected with a proud and sinister smile on his face before the other members behind the table, oddly enough including Riley, nodded their approval in earnest.
"Cut us up…over my dead body," Buffy demanded with a very furious and certain scowl on her face as she started to take a step forward but the words of the next to speak stopped her dead in her tracks.
"That's the idea Buffy…that's the idea," Riley interjected with a wide smile of approval on his face as he leaned back in his chair before he couldn't help but begin to chuckle.
The presentation had gone off better than Angel had expected. Ms. Hancock seemed to really know her stuff and after his initial blunder at the discovery that she was deaf and that he had unintentionally scared her she seemed to be less edgy around Angel. During the course of the meeting Angel had caught himself glancing up from one of the papers that she had handed him and taking note of every one of her features, a habit that he had picked up in his failed attempt to be an artist of any notoriety. He had even caught himself smiling at how many times she had to stop signing a piece of information to push a stray lock of dark crimson hair back behind her ear, in a way reminding Angel of Willow when he first came to know her. After the briefing Angel made sure to pull Ms. Hancock aside to ask her some more detailed questions.
"Anything on Spike and Buffy," Angel asked as he tried his best to sign the words, hoping that she'd understand him.
"No, but don't worry sir we'll find them," Ms. Hancock signed back with a confidant smile on her face and a twinkle in her azure eyes before Angel countered with his next question.
"Has Dawn regained conscious yet," Angel asked with a poorly hidden look of worry on his face as he inched a bit closer to the young woman. Her only reply was to shake her head in the negative and shrug her shoulders as if to say that she didn't have any idea as to when Dawn would wake up. "Great…just another wonderful day in the neighborhood," Angel grumbled with an angry and frustrated scowl on his face before one of his soldiers came running towards him, with a small bundle in his hands.
"Sir…we found this amongst the wreckage, Ms. Summers had it last but she must have forgotten it," The soldier stated with military precision despite the amount of fear that Angel could smell coming off of him in waves before Angel slowly began to unwrap the bundle. He nearly gasped audibly at the bundles contents, as lying there in his hands, looking as innocent as new fallen snow, was the scythe.
END OF CHAPTER 20