Angel returned in the light of early dawn, bearing a bottle of beer in one hand, and a drunken swagger that seemed very much out of sorts with his newly angelic status - though each new day seemed to bring more ways for him to appear anything but angelic. On his other arm, dressed in a suit of sunset red, with the snow white froth of lace bursting from each cuff, was Lorne. He was wearing a royal blue fedora at a jaunty angle, and a set of mirror shades with star-shaped lenses, so presumably he was in Clandestine Mode - if a bright green demon could ever be clandestine, even when not dressed in a rainbow of silk and lace. A glass of something was in his free hand, its contents catching the light in tandem with the rings on the fingers wrapped around it, and the sparkle of the drink, the jewellery, the mirror shades and Lorne's own smile brought a whole new shine to the room. Wesley found that he was smiling, without quite knowing why.
"We have a visitor," announced Angel, with a slight slur to his voice. Spike rolled his eyes.
"He's bloody drunk! You're supposed to be working, Angel."
"Oh, don't blame him, Spike honey. I may have got a little over-enthusiastic with the sloshy stuff earlier." Lorne swayed over, Angel's weight on his arm giving him a stumble of his own that matched Angel's tipsy one. "Anyway, it doesn't matter. It's not like he had to pop himself off home or anything like that. I gave him a lift in my car."
"You have a car?" Wondering how a demon went about getting a license, to say nothing of insurance, Wesley went over to look out through the front of the hotel. Sure enough there was a car parked beside the sidewalk; a Jaguar, long and sleek, and coloured a familiar shade of green. Lorne beamed happily.
"Isn't she a beaut? Custom paint job of course. I call it Tincture de Pylea. The paint-sprayer called it pea green, but what the hell does he know? He thought Aretha was a kidney complaint."
"Right..." Spike caught Wesley's eye. "So, er... did the two of you come here alone?"
"Alone?" Lorne looked confused. "We need anybody else?"
"We just thought it might be nice to see Lox again." Wesley smiled smoothly, and added a quick shrug to look as innocent as possible. "Last time there wasn't really much of a chance for us to get to know him. With the accusations."
"Aw, that's sweet, honey. It's good of you to make the effort." Depositing Angel on a couch, Lorne handed his glass to Cordelia, then headed over to completly fail to pound Wesley on the back. "Thanks. No, Lox has other things to do right now. He always heads off soon as it starts getting light. He's a busy guy, you know."
"Yeah. So I've heard." Despite the concerns that he still had, Wesley couldn't help sharing the Pylean's infectious smile. "Are you sure you're not as drunk as Angel? I didn't think alcohol affected you, but you seem... wobbly."
"Just drunk on good company, blue eyes." Lorne sat down on the nearest chair. "There any herbal tea around here? I seem to have caught the bug from Lox."
"Fred liked it. She kept some next door." Wesley held up a hand to forestall the apology, then clicked his fingers and made a mug appear on Lorne's lap. "No milk, I'm afraid."
"It's better without it." Lorne's grin came back out for an encore. "Wes, honey, I'm impressed. You've come a long way since the old days levitating paper clips and ink bottles in your office."
"Looooong way." Angel lurched to his feet, staggering over to join them. "Right into another dimension. Where things are hidden." He held his finger up to his lips. "Ssh. Secret."
"You're a bloody disaster area, you dimwit." Spike caught hold of the other vampire to help him keep his balance. "Never could hold your booze."
"Ha!" Angel drew himself up to his full height, and wobbled alarmingly. "I'm Irish. Of course I can hold my booze. I was drinking other people under the table when you were just a tiny little mouse-headed pipsqueak in a pram, William."
"Hey, children children children!" Lorne leapt up, wriggling his way in between the pair of them, and trying to avoid spilling his tea in the process. "Is that any way to carry on? Now play like nice vampires or I won't go letting you drive my car."
"Huh. Angel only drives black anyhow." Spike turned away, for once having the moral high-ground, but not looking particularly happy about it. "I just can't believe you got drunk, Angel. With everything that's going on at the moment. And you went over to that club on a mission. You ever call me irresponsible again, mate, we're gonna be having words."
"Oh, don't be mean to him, Spike." Lorne guided Angel back down onto a seat. "Lox was playing games, I guess. I had to leave them alone for a while to give a reading to a pair of Graf demons, and you know what that lot are like. With the weird lingo? Took me forever to translate, and then they didn't like what I was telling them. Angel was just supposed to be drinking beer, but I think it got spiked."
"By Lox?" Wesley's voice was neutral, but when his eyes locked with Spike's, they were hard and icy. Lorne shrugged.
"I'd guess so. He's just having some fun, that's all. His people place a lot of importance on things like alcohol consumption, you must know that, Wes. The whole macho bit, right? Everybody gets their drinks spiked, the first time they drink with a Xash. It's tradition."
"Yeah." Wesley answered him with only half his mind on the conversation. "Cordelia, is everything ready?"
"The generator is hidden away, yes. Are you expecting trouble?"
"I'd imagine so. Lox hears where the thing is, and then by a strange coincidence, suddenly Angel is barely able to walk, let alone fight. We have to be ready."
"What are you talking about?" Sounding faintly nettled, Lorne tried to catch hold of Wesley's arm, but of course failed to do so. "Wes..."
"I'm sorry, Lorne. There's a lot going on that you don't know about yet." Wesley threw a look over at Spike. "Get some weapons out. Cordy, I want you back wherever that generator is. I doubt that Lox will be able to find it, let alone get to it. But I want a line of defence there anyway, and you're the strongest we've got."
"Hey! If there's going to be a fight, surely we should have the sober angel with us!" Spike paused on his way to the weapons cabinet, rather flummoxed by Wesley's orders. Cordelia shook her head.
"I have powers, Spike, but I can't use them against Lox unless he directly threatens Lorne. The rest of us aren't mortals, so he can't really hurt us. I wouldn't be allowed to blast him."
"There's going to be blasting?" Lorne was shocked. "Wait. Cordy, honey. You can blast things!"
"Sort of." She looked over at Wesley. "You're sure you want me gone?"
"None of the rest of us can go to whatever dimension you've stuck the thing in. It has to be you. Besides, if you can't use your powers, you're of limited use to us here anyway. No offence, Cordy, but you're not our greatest fighter. You never were."
"Fighter. There's going to be fighting?" Lorne was becoming increasing agitated. "Come on, guys. I hear talk of blasting, and fighting, and Lox. What is it that you people are setting up, and why am I suddenly thinking that I should be very, very angry? Angel, honey..."
"Angel didn't do anything. He just wanted to spread the word about something we have that other people might want." Wesley didn't have the inclination to be gentle just now, and his words rattled themselves off with a hard edge. "Now we just need to find out if anybody comes looking for it."
"It's a trap for Lox." Lorne was not happy. "You set him a trap, and you used me to do it."
"We didn't set a trap. When Angel went to Haven, he didn't really believe that Lox was the enemy. We still don't know for certain that he is." Wesley shot a look over at the slumped vampire, who was trying to protest his innocence and failing dismally. "Listen Lorne. Somebody wants to charge up Illyria again. She told us as much. We just have to make sure that whoever it is doesn't succeed. You know what could happen if she gets her powers back?"
"Besides her getting all scary again? With the time thing, and the bit where she wanted to kill us?" Lorne nodded. "Yeah, I know. Big bang and bye bye Los Angeles."
"Bye bye half of California, probably." Wesley nodded. "Nobody used you, Lorne. Just your club. I'm sorry, but we wanted to get the word out on the street, that's all. Now we've got to"
"Something's coming," snapped out Spike, from the other side of the room. Wesley frowned.
"You sure?"
"Vampire hearing, Wes." Angel pushed himself up to his feet as he spoke, testing his balance, and trying not to look too ill. "He's right. There's somebody coming. Footsteps. Lots of them."
"Lots?" Wesley groaned. "Great. He's bringing his whole army with him?"
"Sounds like... twenty of them." Spike gave a shrug. "Can't be sure. Gets hard to estimate once there get to be more than around five pairs of feet. How many Xash are left?"
"The last figure I heard was around one hundred and thirty. More than a third of them are too weak to be of much use these days. Twenty could well be a fair chunk of his able manpower. Angel, are you sobered up yet?"
"I'm getting there, Wes. Slowly." The vampire shook his head slowly from side to side, testing his balance. "I don't feel like I could fight a puppy right now. Whatever Lox - or whoever - slipped me, it was good."
"Forget the soft soap, doll. If you think Lox is one of the bad guys, say so." Lorne's red eyes could hold an impressive glower when the moment called for it. "So what'll it be? Beheading? Or are we back to guns, like the last time?"
"I don't plan to kill him." Leaning on the back of the chair, Angel wobbled uncertainly, looking distinctly green. "I wish I was a ghost too. Then I couldn't have just drunk... whatever it was I just drank. Believe it or not, we've got nothing personal against Lox. Compared to a lot of demons in this city, he's virtually one of the good guys. But we have got to make him understand that he can't give Illyria back her powers."
"Or he's a threat to everybody." Lorne nodded slowly. "I understand. Mostly. Sort of."
"Really?" The voice came from the top of the stairs, where Lox quite suddenly made his entrance. Spike and Angel had heard the direction of the approach, but to Wesley and Lorne it was a shock to see him inside the hotel, and they both spun around in surprise. He seemed to like the stir that he had caused. As usual he cut an impressive figure, with his flowing robes and majestic bearing, this time with his people as an honour guard behind him. There was an axe in his left hand; one with a long handle and sizeable blade, that gleamed in the bright light of the lobby. "So you 'understand', do you Lorne?" He began to walk down the stairs, his eyes never once leaving the Pylean refugee. "What is it that you understand? The terrible things that Angel made you do? The way that he made you deny your instincts? Deny yourself? Do things that you never wanted to do? The way that he left you - the way that all of them left you? I found you. I was your friend. I have never lied to you. What is it that you understand, Lorne?"
"What's the axe for, Lox?" Angel wanted to walk over and meet the demon half way; to confront him properly. Instead he had to stay where he was, gripping the back of his chair like a helpless old man unable to stand unaided. "We're all dead. There's no need for weapons."
"You've armed yourselves." Lox nodded at Spike, who was crossing over to meet Angel, carrying a pair of lengthy swords. We have a right to defend ourselves."
"We only plan to fight if we have to." Angel took one of the swords, but didn't lift it, or attempt to hold it threateningly. "We can't let you take that generator."
"And I can't let you stop me." Lox was smiling, the expression charming despite the huge teeth that it couldn't help but emphasise. "My people are dying, Angel. I need that generator. I need Illyria. Her powers will change everything. Revitalise us."
"How will Illyria's powers stop your people from dying?" asked Wesley. Lox looked over at him, the angle of his head haughty, and his eyes blazing with a sudden indignation.
"When your people are dying you don't stop to examine the details. Her powers make her supreme. She can do anything. Change time. Anything. I will not believe that her powers and her strength; to say nothing of the position of power once held by the Archduke Sebassis; will not find my people the means to heal themselves. I do what has to be done, Pryce."
"I thought they were wrong about you." Lorne looked betrayed. "So what was I, Lox? The means to get at Illyria?"
"Hardly." For a second Lox looked sad, then he shrugged. "I'm sorry Lorne. You're not Xash, so ultimately you're not important. But no, you weren't a way to get at Illyria - it wasn't until I had met you that I even knew about her. You were a means by which to get money. And you were a friend. I've learnt to be mercenary, though, and that's the way it has to be."
"I stood up for you!"
"Keep out of the way, Lorne." Trying to compensate for Angel's current shortcomings, Spike strolled over, positioning himself halfway between Lox and the Pylean. He held up his sword. "Angel doesn't want to kill you lot. He's nice that way; plus he doesn't want to go upsetting old Lorne here. But me? I'm not nice. So get the hell out of here, or I'll see to it that your race gets depleted a whole lot more."
"You think that you can fight us? All of us?" Lox shook his head, and sauntered closer. "We are twenty. You are four. Lorne won't fight; at least not to kill. And Illyria walked through Pryce earlier. Is that a man that I'm supposed to be frightened by?"
"Quite possibly." Wesley shot his cuffs, and the guns were suddenly in his hands again. "These are as real as I'm not; and believe me, they shoot very real bullets. You may be big, Lox, but you're not armour plated. Bullets like these will harm you. Leave."
"No." The demon's eyes surveyed the room. "The shiny one. Cordelia? She's missing. So it's her who has the generator?"
"Does it matter? That's kinda the point, Lox; it's not here. There's no way for you to get at it. That means there's no reason for us to hurt you. So leave." Angel wished that he didn't look so wobbly; so lopsided and incapacitated, but he clung to the back of the chair with one hand, and the sword with the other hand, and did his best to look like a figure of authority. Lox was unimpressed.
"What kind of a fool do you think that I am, Angel? I have the means to find her, wherever she is. I have a sorcerer, and his magic can find wherever she and the generator have hidden themselves. Perhaps we will be able to follow her there, and perhaps not; it shouldn't matter. Once we point the way, there are others who will follow. And besides, I think that you and she will co-operate."
"You do, huh." Spike was not one to be swayed by empty words. "Why's that? 'Cause us being dead removes a whole lot of your bargaining power."
"You're dead, Spike." Lox's eyes were calm, and carried no trace of whatever he might have been feeling. "Lorne isn't. You'll give me what I want, or he'll die."
"Then I think that means that the talking part is over." Crossing the room with the briskness of step and singularity of purpose that were so much a part of him these days, Wesley met Spike at the foot of the stairs, to form a barrier before the intruders. "We were prepared to let you leave unharmed. We still are. But only if you leave now. Right now."
"Which we can't do, quite obviously." Lox looked away, nodding once. Immediately his people spread out around him, coming down the stairs, moving fast, vaulting the banisters to avoid the two armed ghosts and reach the lobby. One of them, his robes white, was clearly the magician. It showed in his bearing, and in the way he stood out from his companions.
"Get the hell out of my hotel!" Angel took a step away from the chair, and lurched wildly. His head spun, and his stomach spun with it. Lox laughed.
"You're a brave man, Angel, and a fine warrior. I've heard all of the stories. But right now you're nothing special. We have you outnumbered. We hold all the cards." Two of his men converged upon Lorne. "You'll do as I ask. You'll get me the generator. I don't want to hurt Lorne... but then again, I won't be hurting him. It'll be my men who'll be slitting his throat; or whatever it takes to kill a Pylean."
"Oh great. Beware Xash bearing gifts, huh." Lorne began to back away uncertainly. "This is absolutely the last time I trust someone who offers to buy me a night-club. Or it probably is, anyway."
"Stay away from him." Wesley turned, pointing his guns at the two demons. "You're a dying species, and personally I have no desire to kill you off any quicker."
"Try, Mr Pryce." Lox was smiling with a measure of smugness that was at once both infuriating and unsettling. "Just try. We're prepared."
"You are, huh." Spike's eyes met with Wesley's, and they both shared a moment's understanding. It only took a moment, then, to make their move. Spike went wide, running, slashing with his sword to try to turn the Xash away from Lorne, only for the white-robed sorcerer to unleash a yell that seemed to make the very air vibrate. Spike's sword bounced off a glowing, steel grey barrier that suddenly surrounded his target, and he fell back with a shout of surprise.
"That's bloody cheating!" he exclaimed, to anybody who cared to be listening. Lorne, paling slightly, tried to dodge the two demons who were racing for him, but they were both too fast. As one grabbed for him, Wesley fired one of his guns, and the bullet zipped off the glowing barrier, clanging loudly when it struck Spike's sword. The vampire swore.
"We are protected. Give us what we want, or Lorne will pay the price." Lox came closer. Wesley glowered, then with a yell of some strange spell, fired his gun again. The glow that surrounded Lorne's guard snapped out of existence, and with a scream of pain the Xash fell to the ground, a bullet hole neatly marking its path through his head. Lox came to a dead halt.
"No." His eyes snapped over to Wesley, bright and hot in their grief and disbelief. "You will not kill my people!"
"Then call them off!" Wesley raised the guns again, ready to break the barrier of any Xash that seemed about to cause more trouble, but already the sorcerer had resumed his chanting. Wesley turned to fire at him, but with a burst of light, the sorcerer was suddenly halfway up the stairs. There was a crystal in his hands, shining brightly, and Wesley could sense the power it possessed; sense the strength of the spell within it, even though he was standing some distance away. He spat out his spell once again, firing a string of shots off at the sorcerer, but the magical barrier protecting the demon held firm. The ricochets of the wasted bullets rang out around the room, grazing walls, scarring furniture, hitting a Xash in the leg and dropping him to the ground. Wesley swore in irritation at his uselessness, and began to head up the stairs.
"Hey!" Seeing that Lorne was once again under attack, Spike raced in with his sword whirling. Again and again the blade bounced harmlessly off the Xash, but he continued attacking anyway, beating a pointless tattoo upon the impregnable air that covered the demons. Nearby Angel was trying to join in the fight, trying to beat a path through to rescue Lorne, but unable to make any headway at all.
"The crystal will summon your shining white friend back from wherever she's hiding herself. The spell is designed to trace the passage of supernatural energies, and it will focus on the last person to have left this place by such means." Lox was practically growing in size and stature with each arrogant word. He looked up the stairs towards the sorcerer. "Cordelia will be brought back here, we shall know where she went, and we will find the generator. We will bring it back here, by our means or by yours. Co-operation on your part might make it rather more pleasant for everybody."
"You're not getting that generator." Angel slashed at Lox with his sword, almost falling over with the force of the weapon's rebound from the protective glowing shell. Nearby Wesley was chanting, an almost manic gleam in his eyes, whilst Spike fought a hopeless battle to free Lorne from his captors. He couldn't manage it. Already one of the Xash had the Pylean in a stranglehold, and was holding a long knife horribly close to Lorne's neck. The Pylean struggled desperately, and Spike could sympathise. He had heard tales of Lorne's ability to be beheaded without ill effect, but there was no telling what damage a ill-placed knife might do to his singing voice. Lorne couldn't free himself, though, and Spike could not help him. He fought on, but the crystal was glowing more brightly, and Angel was barely able to stand upright, and Wesley's maddened chanting was getting them nowhere. Only Lox seemed happy, mocking Angel's hopeless attempts to fight him.
"I'll have Lorne killed," he warned. "Just give me the generator, and he'll be safe."
"You could blow up half of the country with that thing!" Truly afraid that Lorne might be about to die, Angel put all of his remaining strength into one furious blow with the sword. It did no good at all, and he almost collapsed. "Illyria isn't stable. With her powers back she could wipe the West Coast off the map. You have to understand, Lox!"
"Lies, or exaggerations. I will give her back her powers, and she will be grateful." Lox looked up the stairs, where the glowing white crystal was now hovering in the air, moving gracefully to the last place where Cordelia had stood before leaving for the hidden dimension to guard the generator. "So near. We will bring Cordelia back, and she will fetch us what we want. Will seeing Lorne already dead persuade her? Or should I have my sorcerer try to use his powers against you, Angel? Would that work any better?"
"Stop that sorcerer, Wesley!" Heading after the crystal, Angel slashed at it with his sword, but it seemed always to be out of his reach. The sorcerer's work he was sure, and he glanced over to see Wesley drawing back one arm to send a blistering ball of heat and blue light straight at the Xash magician's head. It was deflected by the barrier, but some of its force sank through, lighting up the white robe with a gleaming tincture of blue, and making the sorcerer stumble slightly. The crystal wavered, but remained out of reach, and with a warning growl, Lox started after Angel. There were further Xash converging upon them, converging upon Spike, and the crystal was growing brighter and brighter. Wesley's voice was rising in volume, and so was the voice of the rival sorcerer; there was a crackle of heat and energy in the air as both magicians flung their spells at each other, each of them trying to weaken their rival. Wesley's voice rose above the din once, briefly, and for a second the glowing grey barrier flickered. Spike's sword found a mark; stabbed an arm; caused a flood of purple to burst from a pale red arm, and Lox, spinning around in a heat of utter fury, roared out the order for Lorne's execution. There was a scramble to carry out the order; a last desperate struggle from the Pylean; and a last desperate spell from Wesley. Angel's voice rose above the tumult in a plea that went unheard, and for a horrible second Lorne was gone from view behind a cloud of red. The Xash were impervious to everything save the need to obey their ruler, and it seemed as though Lorne was lost. Angel was too far away, and could do nothing anyway, and Wesley was pinned down in his desperate struggle against the sorcerer. Even Spike, usually so energetic a fighter, could not force his way through the magically protected soldiers to be of any use. He was almost ready to give up, or at the very least to resort to angry yelling and petulance, when with a crash of splintering glass, the doors burst open and Illyria strode in, eyes hot and bright, gaze flooding the room with her arrogance and apparent anger. Without preamble she stormed into the midst of it all, grabbing Xash, breaking through the magical barrier by no more impressive a means than sheer brute strength. She threw the demons like unwanted toys, breaking a neck here, smashing a skull there, until Wesley yelled at her to stop. She curtailed her more violent tendencies then, but still she hurled the creatures about, tearing a path through them to free Lorne, to send the Xash sorcerer running for cover, tipping the scales of the battle through her mere presence. Angel whistled in relief, summoning up his reserves of struggling sobriety to smash the glowing crystal with his sword. It burst apart in a rush of turquoise light that faded to reveal Cordelia, standing in the middle of the lobby and looking very confused.
"What the-!" she began, but didn't get the chance to finish. With a scream of rage, Lox hurled himself at her, shouting words in his own language that could only have been exhortations of his fury and determination not to be foiled. Running with all his might, Angel got to Cordelia before the furious demon, and swung up his sword as a barrier. His head was spinning, but his arms didn't let him down. Neither did his furious scowl.
"Get out of here, Lox," he demanded. "This is over. Enough of your people are dead, and I don't think either of us wants the number to rise. Don't let me see you here again."
"Lucky." Lox's face was contorted in hate, an expression that did not suit his usually more gentle appearance. "You were lucky. I would have won. If it hadn't been for Illyria, I"
"Which says it all really, wouldn't you say?" Wesley was standing nearby, with one leg rather disconcertingly in the middle of a broken table. "If she's prepared to fight you, I think it proves that she won't help you to get what you want. Powers or no powers, Lox - she wants nothing to do with you."
"Perhaps." The anger on Lox's face didn't fade. "But there are other way to get what I want. I won't stop looking. I can't. My people are all that matter to me. All that matter. And I will make them strong again." With a clap of his hands he left, his people following him in a ragged line. There were too many of them left behind, spread out over the floor, and Angel could not be glad of it. The satisfaction of the win did not seem so great tonight.
"You okay?" he asked Cordelia. She nodded, turning away to examine the pieces of the crystal he had broken. Wesley left them alone, although in many ways he would have preferred to stay with them. At least then there would have been moral support during the inevitable confrontation. He could see her, standing nearby, watching him with those inhuman eyes. She would come to him sooner or later, because she always did. Something within Illyria, or perhaps within him, meant that she always gravitated towards him. It wasn't something that he especially wanted to think about.
"Wesley." The voice made him want to shrink away, whatever associations it had once had. She was coming closer; her self-possession, her strength of stride, her blueness, all emphasising that she was not the person she looked like. "You are uninjured?"
"Well I've not got any deader." He frowned at her. "How did you find this place?"
"I followed the loud green one. He led me here. I wished to speak with you, but the battle helped to straighten my mind somewhat. I think that battles are good for making things straight inside heads."
"You needed to talk?"
"I wished to discuss things. I wished to discuss Lox. Perhaps it no longer matters." She frowned at him, head cocked on one side. "It was enjoyable to defeat the Xash, even though our goals were the same. I want my powers back, Wesley, but Lox wanted to use them himself. Once I would not have been so angered by the actions of a mortal."
"It's different when it's personal." He tried out a smile, which of course wasn't returned. "But then I suppose that doesn't mean anything to you."
"You think that I should be affected by his intentions towards me personally." A glimmer of a frown showed on her face. "That is irrelevant. The actions of a mortal cannot harm me, or have any consequence for one such as me."
"Is that so? A mortal took your powers away, Illyria."
"I know." She stared at him, without malevolence. "That has not been forgotten."
"Somehow I didn't think it had. So much for friendship."
"Friendship?" The word didn't seem to mean much to her. "At times it is not easy to understand your meaning, but there will be many occasions when we can discuss such things if necessary. I have fought here tonight. It was enjoyable. This body has feelings of gladness that you are still functioning, Wesley. We will visit each other again."
"We will?" He wasn't surprised by her announcement, although he would rather she hadn't made it. She fixed him with her disconcerting blue and white gaze.
"We will. You are my guide, and that cannot change. For now, though, I will return to the night-club and consider things. I feel that this has been a good night."
"I'm glad." He smiled at her slightly, as usual having no real idea of what he was feeling. "Goodbye then, Illyria."
"Goodbye, Wesley." She stared at him rather disconcertingly for several moments, then nodded her head sharply, as though content with something that she had seen within him. "I will see you soon." With that she disappeared. He sighed. I will see you soon. The words didn't exactly fill him with delight. Trying to prevent his shoulders from slumping too noticeably, he turned away and headed for some place where he could shut the others out, however temporarily. Angel looked lost and confused as well, he noticed, but he didn't go back over to lend his support. He wasn't sure that it was what either of them wanted just now. Over on the other side of the room Angel was thinking much the same thing, as he watched Wesley wander away, and tried to think of a way to test the waters with Lorne. The Pylean was standing nearby, staring at the dead bodies. His expression was unusually unreadable, and he didn't look up when Angel approached.
"I'm sorry, Lorne." Joining him in looking at the dead bodies strewn around them, Angel was suddenly glad that Lox himself had escaped unscathed. "I really didn't want anything like this to happen. I know... I know you think it's what I do, and I guess you're right, but..."
"Yeah." Lorne looked away, clearly not wanting to see the dead bodies just now. "Whatever. You guys did what you felt you had to do, Ange. I know that. I've got eyes and ears, big guy. I can understand it without having to like it."
"I really am sorry." Angel had rarely felt so bad after killing anything, and not knowing where he stood with his friend only made things worse. "We couldn't let him hurt you, and I"
"Leave it." For a second Lorne's voice was sharp, but he softened immediately, and gave a sad smile. "You think I want to change you, Angel? 'Cause I don't. I want you to always be just the way you are; and if that means that there's always going to be dead things in your wake, so be it. I never wanted you to stop doing what you do. I just wanted to stop being a part of it."
"But Lox was your friend."
"And probably still is." Lorne smiled. "He wanted to make his people great. He didn't want to blow up Los Angeles, or hurt me, or tear this place apart. Maybe he's evil. Maybe he isn't. Hell, I don't know. And you know something, sugar puff?"
"You don't care?"
"I don't care." Lorne beamed happily. "And that's what I love about me, Angel pie. Same as your you-ness is what I love about you."
"I think that made sense."
"Sure it did." For a second Lorne wasn't sure how to continue; then abruptly he turned his smile up to full dazzle, and clapped the vampire on both shoulders. "I should be going. I have a club to clean up."
"Yeah." Angel looked rueful. "And I have a hotel to clean up."
"No rest for the wicked, doll."
"Are we really so wicked?" Angel asked the question with a certain measure of sadness, wondering if that was really how Lorne saw him. His answer was a bright and sparkling grin.
"Honey, I know I am. And I have high hopes for you, so don't disappoint. Anyway." He kissed his be-ringed green hand, and waggled the fingers. "So long, sweet thing."
"Bye, Lorne." Angel followed him to the door, watching with a gentle smile as the demon put on his fedora and shades, ready to go back out into the street. "Be seeing you?"
"Sure." Lorne frowned behind the sunglasses, still not altogether sure where he stood on this whole issue. He was still all too well aware that it would only take Angel asking him to stay; just one word, and Haven, his new life, everything, would all be gone. He was glad when Angel didn't ask, but he knew that he was still waiting for him to. He probably always would be. "Bye bye big guy. Come sing for me some time soon."
"Not likely." They shared a smile, and then Lorne was gone, scuttling away across the sidewalk to the green Jaguar that awaited him at the roadside. For a second Angel smiled at the anything but clandestine figure, doing its best to be unnoticeable; then he turned back to the room and its waiting mess. Lox's people seemed to have an inordinate amount of blood between them; and it was purple, which in his experience stained terribly.
"Come on, people. We have work to do." He called them all over from their respective resting places - Spike sprawled on a couch; Wesley standing in a distant corner, trying not to look too torn; Cordelia delighting in the ever fresh cleanliness of her shining white outfit. Illyria had disappeared, although Angel didn't remember seeing her leave. He didn't especially care. She wasn't hugely welcome in his hotel; she had never really been a part of his team. She wasn't what mattered.
"Lorne okay?" asked Spike, who for some reason that Angel wasn't clear on, had a cigarette between his teeth. Ghosts weren't known for their ability to breathe in smoke, but then Spike had never been entirely sane in his opinion. The origins of several small burn marks on the floor of the lobby were beginning to become painfully clear.
"Yeah, Lorne's okay. I think. He was smiling a lot when he left, and he's still calling me weird sugary confectionery products, so I guess he's okay."
"Lorne always lands on his feet." Cordelia looked around at all the purple blood and the fallen bodies. "Do you really expect me to clear this up, Angel? I'm wearing white!"
"Magical, impervious to staining white. So yeah, I was thinking of getting you to help." He pointed to the door of the cupboard that held all of their various cleaning products, and she scowled and went to load up on supplies. "Anything special we have to do with these guys, Wes? I mean, do they need dismembering or something?"
"No, they're dead. They do need disposing of quickly, though. They decompose quickly at sea level."
"Great. Putrefying corpses are always fun to scrub off the furnishings." Spike stared unhappily down at the dead demons. When he had thrown in his lot with the Hero Department he had never expected it to lead to the polishing of floor tiles and shampooing of assorted cushionery. Didn't being a hero mean never having to do the vacuuming?
"Sooner it's done, the less likely it is they will actually be putrefying." Angel hoped that he sounded more resolute than he felt. "I hope they won't hurt the flowers, if we bury them in the garden."
"Well I don't know about you, but I think that fertilising the flowerbeds was well worth bringing me back from the dead for." Spike grabbed the nearest body, and hoisted it over one shoulder. "Anybody wants me, I'll be trying to bury him. Can't promise I'll be able to hold a spade, though. Can't tell you how sorry I am about that."
"Get lost, Spike." Angel also bent to pick up a couple of the bodies, then headed off after his grandsire with the purple-dripping burden. Only when he had gone did Cordelia clap her hands to make the rest of the bodies disappear, and taking his cue accordingly, Wesley muttered a quick spell to clear away the blood and the gore. The two old friends smiled at each other then, and Cordelia shrugged.
"Well if they will keep forgetting who they're dealing with, it serves them right. Want to watch some TV while we're waiting for the penny to drop?"
"Yes, why not." Wesley had never been much of one for watching the television, but in the earliest days of his association with Angel Investigations, he and Cordelia had often watched the murky wonders of daytime TV. It had been a way of passing the time between cases; of occupying the hours when Angel was asleep; of bonding when they had barely known each other. It suddenly seemed like the kind of thing that would be fun to do now. By the time that Angel and Spike had buried the three demons, and wound their weary way back into the hotel to continue the work, Cordelia and Wesley were sprawled together on a couch. The television burbled gently to itself in its corner, but neither could hear it. Comfortably leaning on each other, happily rediscovering their shared past, they had both fallen fast asleep.
It was night again before Lilah turned up, all smiles as usual, despite the uncertainties of their last meeting. Wesley was sitting on the roof of the hotel, a favourite place where the two of them often met, and he greeted her with a warm smile as she sat down beside him. Theirs was an increasingly genuine relationship; an increasingly real, mutual one, even if neither of them knew where it was heading. Lilah smiled fondly at the dark-clad figure beside her, and took a moment longer to enjoy the simplicity of their comfortable silence before she spoke.
"Did you get things sorted out?" she asked. He frowned at her.
"You don't know? I'd have thought that you'd have heard all about it by now."
"I didn't mean all of that. I know that you stole the Mutari generator, and that it's hidden somewhere where you seem to think it's safe. And I know that Lox has backed off. I meant about Illyria."
"Oh." He nodded. "I know how I feel about her, if that's what you mean. I think I always did. She may look like Fred, but that's as far as the resemblance goes. I was perfectly happy with the thought that she'd gone back to the Deeper Well. I don't want anything to do with her now."
"So you're telling me that if she asks, you won't go running off to be with her? I know what that face does to you, Wes. What that body does to you."
"These days all it does is make my stomach churn." That and make him think of whisky. Even the sight of Illyria was enough to bring the taste of strong alcohol to his mouth; or the memory of it, anyway. Taste no longer existed for him. She smiled then, and nodded slowly.
"I think I believe you."
"Um... thankyou?"
"Idiot." She leaned in close beside him, and stroked the back of his neck. He might have pushed her away once, but values were different after death - or maybe death had mellowed him. He didn't know. He just knew that he wanted her beside him tonight.
"I'm sorry about last night" He leaned back, partly into her embrace, and partly against the wall. It was easier to look up at the moon, then, as pure and white as ever it was likely to look through the dull Los Angeles air. "I had a lot on my mind, I suppose."
"You always do." She ruffled his hair. "There's more in that mind than in almost any other. You should have"
He frowned. "Should have what?"
"I was going to say, you should have left your brain to science. I'm sorry Wes."
"For rubbing it in that I'm dead, or for rubbing it in that I don't have a clue who I left my brain to? It's alright, Lilah. I know that Wolfram & Hart have my body. I know that they have plans for it. It's no big secret."
"It's supposed to be." Her hand fell away from his head, and she looked away. "I've tried, Wes. Really. If I get the slightest hint of what they're planning to do with it..."
"Then you won't tell me. You mustn't. They might never let you out of hell again, then, and I'd rather have you here. Besides, you have your theories; you've dropped enough hints about that. I have theories too, now. Lots of them."
"Something has changed, hasn't it." She reached out, gently taking his face in one hand, and turning him towards her. "What do you know?"
"Nothing. Exactly." His eyes turned themselves away, although his face still couldn't. "When I was in the vault at Wolfram & Hart. My vault. There were weapons in there. Lots of them. Ones that I'd collected, ones that were there anyway. And one other. A knife."
"Oh?" She was trying to look as though she had no idea what he was talking about, but it was clear that she had guessed. He nodded slowly.
"It was the knife that I was stabbed with. The knife that killed me. Cyvus Vail's knife. They could have bought it from someone, I suppose, but I'm not fool enough to believe that. That knife was in my vault, and there were boxes there too. I didn't get to see what was inside them, but I'm willing to bet what was in the biggest. I was just a few feet away from my body last night, and I never knew it. Never even thought about it at the time. There was the knife, and there was the fighting, and there wasn't really time for anything else."
"Then why not go back and get it?" she asked him. He shook his head.
"There's no getting back in there again. Security will have been stepped up, and they'll be on the look out for Team Angel particularly. I wouldn't stand a chance."
"Wes..."
"Yes, I know. Lilah, you've been dropping hints all along that you think they plan to somehow bring me back to life - or reanimate my body, anyway. And yes, I'd rather have the damn thing myself. But it's impossible now. Probably always was." His eyes clouded over, and she saw the sadness that he couldn't hide. "All my life I've expected the good times to be short, and to get swept away by bad things. It's what's always happened. For the first time since... since a trip to the ballet several years ago... I'm happy. Really, honestly, happy - but I've never expected it to last. So if it doesn't, I'm prepared. That's my life, Lilah." He reached up to brush some hair away from her eyes, and smiled faintly as he did so. "Good times never last. Not when you come from the places I come from. I haven't said anything to the others. Angel would worry, and would probably want to launch an attack on Wolfram & Hart... Which is nice, quite honestly. I like knowing that he'd want to do that. I can't let him, though. What's going to happen will happen, and I just have to hope that as few people as possible will be hurt."
"Sometimes I think I was wrong to keep clothing you in all that grey."
"You weren't wrong." He laughed then, and it sounded genuine enough. "Listen to us. It's a beautiful night, and I for one can't feel the cold. We should be enjoying it, and instead we're thinking about terrible things that we don't yet even know are going to happen. Change the subject, or I'll be forced to go in search of cheerier company."
"A spell is still a spell. Can you go to Lorne now? If you can't that means that you'll either wind up playing gooseberry to Angel and Cordelia, or sitting in the lobby downstairs arguing with Spike. Neither sounds like much fun to me."
"I could always go and hunt vampires with Charles. I'm getting quite good at staking things again. It was hard getting enough force behind the stake at first, since I usually have to levitate the blasted things, but last time I tried it I only nearly staked the one innocent human. Although admittedly I nearly staked him twice."
"You're not going anywhere." She settled herself against him, and joined him in staring up at the moon. "Life's weird, isn't it."
"Weirder than death?"
"I don't know. Are you happy, Wes? Really?"
"Really?" Idly he stroked her hair, and smiled to himself. Sprawled on a roof, dead as a doornail, unable to touch or feel a thing - except others who were dead. Lost in a relationship with a woman as evil as any he had ever encountered, unable to trust her, and quite sure that she was a part of whatever foul scheme that Wolfram & Hart must have for him and his friends... It didn't sound like happiness; but he knew that it was.
"Yes," he told her, and meant it. "I'm happy." Perfect happiness, a little voice inside him said, and he smiled at the irony. Perfect happiness could be a dangerous thing. Resting against him, Lilah nodded in satisfaction.
"Good." She sounded content. "You deserve that much, for however long it lasts."
"I wish I knew how long that might be." He smiled idly, and stared up at the murky clouds now moving in to cover the moon. He didn't really need to wonder. He could almost see the pieces falling into place; feel the ripples beginning to flow through the city's ever troubled aura. Change was coming; change was always coming.
But this time it was coming for him.
