AN: My apologies for the long delay. Life, you know, it get's really annoying sometimes.
Part 6, Tomorrow is a Another Day
The morning of the next day, in Captain William's office, Buffy sits while Spike attends to paperwork. "I strongly suspect that Doyle left the talismans of transit with Mr. Harris. I would suggest you search the juice bar immediately and thoroughly."
"If Alex 'as the talismans, 'ee's much too smart to let you find them there." Spike replies easily, without looking up.
Buffy, annoyed at his casual and cavalier attitude, snaps out, "You give him credit for too much cleverness. Let me refresh your memory. He's The Zeppo, the 'whelp' you used to call him. And my impression is that he hasn't changed. He's just another blundering ordinary guy."
"But we mustn't underestimate ordinary blundering. You've told me I was with 'im when 'ee "blundered" into the wine cellar and saved Kennedy's ass, at great sacrifice to 'imself. He "blundered" onto the cliff and prevented one of our extra's from vaporizing the world. Years before that 'ee "blundered" into the Master's cave and saved your life."
Ignoring this, she continues, "As to Angel, we want him watched 24 hours a day."
Spike sets down his pencil and leans back smugly. "It may interest you to know that at this moment 'ee is on 'is way 'ere."
In the lobby, Angel and Cordelia push through the crowd, too preoccupied to see Gunn and Fred in the crowd. Gunn is talking to an officer, Willow. "There's nothing we can do," sighs Willow, then angrily "And why should I bother helping you, when I can't even help myself out of this insanity?" Her meeting with the FCG rep just can't come too soon!
Angel and Cordelia finally work their way through the crowd and enter Spike's office, who stands and bows as they come in. "I am delighted to see you both. Did you 'ave a good night's rest?" he greets with false good cheer.
"I slept very well." Angel informs him.
"That's strange, nobody is supposed to sleep well in Casablanca."
"May we proceed with the business?" Angel impatiently demands.
"With pleasure. Will you sit down?" Spike, despite his lack of memory of Angel and their antagonistic relationship, still revels in irritating him.
"Thank you." Angel says. He pauses when he spots Buffy sitting in the office.
Buffy began, "Very well, Angel, we will not mince words. You are a danger to my Slayer Army, with your constant namby-pamby do-gooder attitude, saving demons you think are nice guys, and hoarding all the hair products to yourself. So far you have been fortunate enough in eluding us. You have reached Casablanca. It is my duty to see that you stay in Casablanca."
"Whether or not you succeed, is of course, problematical," smirks Angel after finally taking his seat.
Buffy is smug. "Not at all. A drop of Captain William's blood is required on every exit talisman." She turns to Spike, "Is it possible that you think Angel will receive said necessary drop?"
This time in genuine cheer Spike speaks directly to Angel, "I am afraid not. My regrets, Angel. And my apologies again for the 'orrible French accent."
Angel appears confident and unfazed, "Well perhaps I shall like it in Casablanca."
"And Cordelia? There's not a mall to speak of within a hundred miles of here," as Buffy tries to pour salt in the wound.
Cordelia airily answers, "You needn't be concerned about me. I've put up with the worst hardships imaginable. I've even been boinked by Angel's son, so I'm sure I can deal with the lack of an indoor shopping mall, at least for awhile."
"Is that all you wish to tell us?" asked Angel.
"Don't be in such a hurry. You have all the time in the world. You may be in Casablanca indefinitely. Or you may leave for Lisbon tomorrow - on one condition..."
Angel sits up, "And that is?" interested despite his better judgment.
"You know the leaders of the anti-Slayer Army movement, in LA, in Prague, in Brussels, in Amsterdam, in Oslo, in Belgrade, in Athens."
"Even in London, right where your precious Council boot-licker's are," Angel smirks.
"Yes, even London. If you will furnish me with their names and their exact whereabouts you will have your talisman in the morning."
"And the honor of having served the Slayer Army," he replies with some irony. "I was in a hell dimension for a hundred years. You put me there. That's honor enough for a lifetime, even one as long as mine."
"You will give us the names?"
"If I can survive in hell, put up with my twerp of a kid for a year, hell, even put up with your whinging, then I certainly won't give them to you now."
He stands and looks solemnly up at nothing. His voice becomes that of the passionate true crusader champion he is, filled with a deep projecting timbre, resonating off the office walls, echoing through the hallways, reverberating down the streets, booming across the whole city of Casablanca, "And if you track down my allies and kill them? What if you slayed all of us? From every corner of Europe, hundreds, thousands, would rise to take our place. Even slayers can't dust that fast." He sits again as the applause throughout the city finally dies down.
Buffy leans over to Spike and whispers, "He's good!"
Then she straightens herself up and fastens a scowl back on her face. "Angel, you have a new-found reputation for eloquence that I can now understand. But in one respect you are mistaken. You said the enemies of the Slayer Army could all be replaced. But there is one exception." She looks straight as a crossbow bolt at him, "No one could take your place in the event anything unfortunate should happen while you were trying to escape."
"You won't dare to interfere with me here! This is still unoccupied territory. Any violation of neutrality would reflect on Captain Perox - err, William, here."
Spike interjects appreciatively, "Angel, insofar as it is in my power - "
"Thank you," Angel says, cutting him off.
"By ze way, Angel, last night you evinced an interest in Signor Doyle."
"Yes." he answered, squinting in suspicion.
"I believe you 'ave a message for 'im."
"Oh, nothing important, but may I speak to him now?"
"You would find ze conversation a bit one-sided. Signor Doyle is in a coma."
"Oh really?" a stunned Angel asked, but hiding it well.
"I am afraid so. Even an Irish 'alf-demon 'as only so much luck."
Cordelia throws her hands up in frustration, "Now everybody's copying me! Why can't people get their own damn cheap plot devices!"
Angel is upset and disappointed, and ignores Cordelia's fuming and whining.
Spike holds up a sheaf of papers. "I am making out the report now. We 'aven't decided if 'ee 'eld 'is breath too long in an oxygen fast, to protest the bad beer we serve 'ere, or if 'ee tripped and conked his 'ead while while trying to escape."
Gathering himself together, glaring at Buffy, Angel coldly and formally tries to end this trying meeting. "Are you quite finished with us?"
Buffy returns his glare. "For the time being."
"Good day."
Spike rings a buzzer and the door is opened. Officer Tara comes in after they leave. Spike turns to Buffy, "Undoubtedly, their next step will be to the black market."
Tara speaks up, "Excuse me, sir. Another talisman problem has come up. And I am so tired of this extra role, can I go back to the bar now?"
"Show 'er in first, then you can 'ead on back." Spike leered, as he looks in the mirror and straightens himself. Buffy gets up and leaves with Tara.
Later that day, in a dark cluttered bazaar on a narrow street, covered in sun-blocking tarps (It's not called the 'Black Market' for nothin'!) people are gathered in conspiratorial groups, wearing dark conspiratorial clothes. The tarps trap the heat of the blistering sun. The intense heat causes surface emotions to be languid, while underneath fester the torrid sinister emotions that come of illicit trade in hot dark places.
In one doorway, a Frenchman and a native Whoduh demon huddle and talk. The Whoduh demon is speaking in an urgent conspiratorial whisper, "I am sorry, Monsieur, we would have to handle the police. This is a job for Faith."
"Faith? Who dat?"
"No, no! She's a human, not a Whodat demon! They are riff-raff," failing to mention that the Whosonfirst and Whatsonsecond demons consider the Whodahs to be riff-raff as well, in the minor leagues of demons.
"My most profound apologies to your eminent self. I meant, who is this Faith you mention?"
"Ah, It can be most helpful to know Faith. She was once a member of Buffy's Slayer Army. After The First BaSHinG and BWAHAAHAHA went down she got disgusted with Buffy's pretentious and increasing use of 'Mom' hair. She now has a monopoly on the black market here. You will find her there in the Blue Suede Shoe," as he points across the way.
"Thanks."
Outside the frozen yogurt shop, where the Whoduh demon just pointed, a blue suede shoe hangs from the telephone wires by its laces. Inside, it is much less chic and swank than Al's, but it is as well populated. Xander enters and heads for Faith's office just as she is exiting with a disappointed looking Gunn and Fred. "There, don't be too down-hearted, dawg. Perhaps you can come to terms with Captain W. You guys were pretty cool to me after Wes busted me out, but hey, that's all just bullshit in the meadow. I'm glad to see you both got better, five-by-five and all, but I can't really help you."
Gunn understands, "Hey, it's cool, Faith" and he leads Fred away.
Xander approaches Faith. "Hello, Faith."
"Hey, mornin', X-guy!" as they shake hands.
"I see the bus is in. I'll take my shipment with me."
"No hurry, I'll have it sent over. Have a strawberry frozen yogurt with me."
"I never eat yogurt in the morning. And every time you send my shipment over it's always a little bit short," he remarks
Faith chuckles, "Carrying charges, X-fellow, carrying charges. Come on, sit down, there's something I want to talk over with you anyhow." She calls to a waiter "A strawberry shortcake, with extra fudge on top!" and swivels back to Xander. "The news about Doyle upset me very much. I never knew the little creep, but yet I'm still upset."
"You're a thin, yet bodaciously hot and svelte hypocrite. You don't feel any sorrier about Doyle than I do."
"'Course not. What upsets me is that D is in a coma and no one knows where those talismans of transit are."
"Practically no one." he replies in a toneless voice that gives everything away.
"If I could get my mitts on those talismans I could sure make a crap-load of money, X-amigo."
"So could I, and I'm a poor businessman."
"I have a small proposition for whoever has those talismans. I will handle the transaction, take all the risk, get ridof the talismans. For a small percentage."
Xander is mildly amused. "And the carrying charges, Faith?"
"Naturally there will be a few incidental expenses. That is the proposition I have for whoever has those talismans."
Xander replies dryly, "I'll tell him when he comes in."
"X-ami, I'll put my cards on the table. I think you know where those talismans are."
"Well, you're in good company. Spike and Buffy think so too." He turns his head to look out the window and spots Cordelia in the market. He also sees Angel carefully crossing under the tarps, heading for the entrance. "That's why I came over here, to give them a chance to ransack my place."
"Don't be a fool! Take me into your confidence, you need a partner. We can even do the horizontal mambo again - and this time I promise not to try and kill you."
Xander isn't listening, he's still looking out at the bazaar and gets up unexpectedly. "Excuse me, I'll be getting back." Faith sighs as she notes who Xander saw out the window.
Angel runs into Xander as he's coming out. They regard each other politely.
"Good morning, Xander."
"In case your memory is screwed up, Faith is the hottie at the table."
Angel merely looks after him with a puzzled expression.
In the market at a stall, Cordelia is examining a tablecloth. Willie is behind the stall, whiny and obsequious as ever. "You will not find a treasure like this in all Morocco, dollface, Only 700 francs!"
Xander walks up behind Cordelia. "You're being cheated," announcing his presence
Startled, she turns in surprise to look at Xander, and then more slowly turns back. Her manner is polite but distant and formal. "It doesn't matter, thank you."
"Ah, the lady is a friend of Alex. For friends of Alex we have a special discount. Did I say 700 francs? It's only 200 francs!"
Xander breaks into Willie's stream of words, "I'm sorry I was in no condition to receive you when you called on me last night."
"It doesn't matter," is all Cordelia says, still looking over the various items in Willie's stall.
"For special friends of Alex we have a special discount. Only 100 francs!"
Xander continues ignoring Willie as he presses on, "Your story had me a little confused. Or maybe it was the weird drink I was having. Even I have my limits on how much sugar I can tolerate."
"I have some really nice napkins," Willie whines, sensing he's going to lose his customer.
"Thank you, I'm really not interested." It's not clear whether she is talking to Xander or Willie.
"Please, one minute, wait!" cries Willie, as Xander and Cordelia begin to slowly walk away.
"Why did you come back? To tell me why you ran out on me at the bus station?"
"Yes." She remains polite, but won't look at him while they talk.
"Well, you can tell me now. I'm reasonably calm. Only one Twinkie so far today." He smiles in apology, but it's not working.
"I don't think I will, Xander."
Xander attempts to maintain his good mood despite lack of any encouragement from Cordelia. "Why not? After all, I got stuck with a bus ticket. I think I'm entitled to know."
This time she turns to face him, locking her gaze with his eyes. "Last night I saw what has happened to you. The Xander I knew in Sunnydale, I could tell him. He'd understand. But the one who looked at me with such hatred...well, I'll be leaving Casablanca soon and we'll never see each other again. We really knew very little about each other when we were in love in Sunnydale. If we leave it that way maybe we'll remember the better part of those days, and not Casablanca. Not last night."
His good cheer evaporates. "Did you run out on me because you couldn't take it?" he demands. "Because you knew what it would be like, hiding from the demons, hiding me from your friends and the fashion police?"
"You can believe that if you want." she answers tiredly as she resumes her slow walk toward the Blue Suede Shoe.
He stays standing. "Well, I'm not running away anymore. I'm settled now - above a juice bar it's true, but...walk up a flight. I'll be expecting you." As Cordelia continues to leave he calls out, "All the same, someday you'll lie to Angel. You'll be there."
This causes her to stop and look back at Xander. "No, Xander. No, you see, I'm Angel's Special Extra-sensory Energy Receiver."
Xander is confused as he ponders this new term. "You mean...you're his, his... maid?"
"No! That's not what I mean."
His brow furrowed in confused concentration, he tries again,
"His answering service?"
"No, spinach-for-brains," she cracks.
"You pay his power bills?" timidly this time, head down, eyes looking up at her.
"I'm his SEER! You moron! 'S' - 'E' - 'E' - 'R'. The visions, they're special and extra-sensory, and I receive them. Get it? I'm his vision girl. And he's my champion. It's all clearly laid out in the Phlimphlam Prophecy. We were destined for each other."
He feints dead away as she stalks off and into the Blue Suede Shoe.
She spots Angel talking to Faith and moves over to their table. She sits down next to Angel, with Faith opposite.
"Hey C! I was just telling our boy here, A-man - although I guess he's not really a man is he? - that unfortunately, I am not able to help him."
"Oh." she said in dejection.
Angel begins to explain to Cordelia, "You see, Cordy, the word has gone around..."
Faith picks up the explanation at that point, "As leader of all fun and illegal activities in Casablanca, I am an influential and respected chick around here. It would not be worth my life to do anything for Angel. You, however, are a different matter."
"Cordy, Faith thinks it might just be possible to get an exit talisman just for you." Angel is earnest as he tries to convince Cordelia.
"You mean for me to go on alone?" she asks incredulously.
"And only alone," clarifies Faith.
"I'll stay here and keep on trying. I'm sure in a little while - "
"We might as well be frank, A-baby. It will take a miracle to get you out of Casablanca," cut in Faith. "And the Slayers have outlawed miracles. They had Willow, before she joined X, perform an anti-miracle spell on all of Africa."
"We are only interested in two, Faith."
Angel tries to argue with Cordelia, "Please, Cordelia, don't be hasty."
"No, Angel, no!"
Faith smirks, "You two will want to discuss this. Excuse me, I will be at the yogurt machine," and she leaves as the two continue to argue.
"No, Cordelia. I won't let you stay here. You must get back to America. And believe me somehow I will get out and join you."
"But Angel, if the situation were different, if I had to stay and there were only a talisman for one, would you take it?"
"Yes, I would," Angel says firmly.
Cordelia smiles, she doesn't believe it for a moment. "Yes, I see. When I had gotten knocked up by that photographer, why didn't you leave me then? And when I was stuck in the bad old Pylea you came after me, and you were in danger every second, why didn't you leave me then? And even after that thing with Conner, you still took me back."
"I meant to, but something always held me up. I love you very much."
"Your secret will be safe with me." She glanced over at Faith, "Faith is waiting for an answer."
At the machine, Faith is talking to the waiter, Willow, "Not more than fifty francs, Willow."
"Can I just say how much this sucks! I had almost top billing! Top billing, I tell you! And now I'm forced into this thankless extras part! By the goddess Hecate I will exact my revenge someday!" Willow huffs off angrily as Angel and Cordelia approach Faith.
"We've decided," Angel announces to Faith, "For the present we will go on looking for two exit talismans. Thank you very much."
"Well good luck, A-dude. But be careful." She flicks her eyes in the direction of the bazaar outside. "You know you're being shadowed?"
"Well, duh, he needs those so he can walk around without turning into a crispy critter," sneers Cordelia.
Angel tries to calm her down, "Of course. It becomes an instinct."
Faith looks carefully at Cordelia. "I observe that you in one respect are a very fortunate vampire. I am moved to make one more suggestion, why I do not know, because it cannot possibly profit me. Why I'm suddenly talking like Sydney Greenstreet I also do not know, but it seems right. Have you heard about Doyle and the talismans of transit?"
Angel is suddenly wary at the mention of Doyle's name, "Yes, something."
Faith raises an eyebrow as she says, "Those talismans were not found on Doyle when they arrested him."
Angel lets this sink in before replying. "Do you know where they are?"
"Not for sure, A-dog, but I will venture to guess that Doyle left those talismans with the X-man."
Angel observes as Cordelia's face darkens.
"Xander?"
"He is a difficult customer these days, our boytoy is. One never knows what he'll do, or why. But it's worth a shot."
"Thank you very much. Good day. Oh, by the way, do you know where I can get a good wig?"
"Try the third stall on the left."
Cordelia also says goodbye.
Faith turns and swats a fly as they leave.
