Disclaimer: I don't own Billie Letts' "Where the Heart Is", or Joss Whedon's "Buffy the Vampire Slayer. What, I can't always have a funny disclaimer, can I? Am I just here as a clown for your amusement? Let's just see who's the clown when you're wearing the funny nose and multicolored wig! Yeah, Bozo, what the fuck are you going to do then?

Rating: This will be rated R! Sorry kiddies, but I like using inappropriate language.

Author's Notes: Don't really have the time to say anything clever. I have a meeting to attend in a few minutes (not AA, assholes). So, thank you all for not stabbing me with metal objects because of my last post. Hope you like this one, because it's all about Angel. Oh . . . nevermind.

PS: Death to the WB for canceling Angel.


Chapter Twenty-Four- Poetic Justice part deux

As quick as he could, Angel poured the shot of tequila down his throat, wincing slightly at the burning in his throat.

"Too much for you to handle, tiger," the man sitting across from him asked, a mocking smirk on his face.

Angel rolled his eyes. This wasn't the time for joking.

"Can we just skip to the important shit, forget all this fucking chitchat?" he growled, raising a hand up to order another shot.

Shrugging, the man sipped a bit of his martini, eyes wandering around the smoky bar.

No matter how cool he acted, on the inside Angel was scared shitless. Managing to secure a meeting with Lorne Pylea, one of the most respected representatives in the music industry, had been tough.

Making sure Glory never found out would be harder.

"I figure Glory's taken me as far as I can go," Angel admitted.

"You do?" Lorne rested his head on his hand, not looking in any way curious.

Nodding, Angel began playing with his empty shotglass. "Sure, I did fine with my first single, but that was almost a year ago, and I haven't been on the charts since that. It took me three months of begging to even get her to think about a music video."

"Gotta admit, I thought that 'A Place Called Home' was a good little tune. Cute and homey. Kinda wondered if you disappeared after that," Lorne said, adjusting the collar of his (purple!?!) suit.

"That's just it!" His shot had just arrived, and Angel let it go down like the others. "Instead of me being in the studio, I'm still driving to bars and casinos to play during Happy Hour! This is shit, and I'm done with it!"

Lorne nodded throughout the rant, spacing out only to stare at a waiter who had passed by.

"What do you expect me to do about it?"

Angel sighed. "I wanna get out of my contract, and sign with you. If you represent me, I'll be able to go places Glory's never dreamed of. She's small town, but you! You can get me out of here."

The over-embellishment of Lorne's abilities seemed to work, and he managed to crack a proud smile.

Glancing at his watch, Angel saw that he was almost twenty minutes late for his sound check. Apologizing to his possible future representative, Angel stood up, paying the tab for him and Lorne.

"I have to warn you, cutie," Lorne pointed out, "If Glory gets a whiff of this, she's going to play Twister with your testicles."

"That's why Glory won't get a . . . whiff."

"Alright, cool it. Don't get so Joan Collins." Lorne stood up as well, taking one last glance at the waiter's ass. "I'd just be a little careful of who you talk to these next few days. Glory's a powerful friend, but she's one bitch of an enemy."

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
"Can you feel it?" Her voice had been soft, barely a whisper as she pressed his hand into her round stomach. "Can you feel it?"

"Feel what, damnit?"

Gently, as she lifted his hand up, she checked it with her own two fingers, and then replaced his.

"Can't you feel that little 'thump . . . thump . . . thump'? That's where the baby's heart is."


Suddenly, Angel shot out of bed. His body was covered in a layer of sweat, the air chilling him to the bone. Trying to choke in a breath of air, he pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes.

"What the fuck was that?"

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
The elevator doors opened slowly, and Angel fell out, the girl stumbling with him.

Susie . . . or Sally . . . or Beth straightened up quickly, smoothing out her blue leather minidress. Her curly red hair was teased up, most of it held back by a thick leopard print headband, although some of it had fallen out during the dry humping in the elevator. Angel usually didn't go for redheads, but she was easy enough to make him forget.

They fumbled through the hallways, not able to keep their drunken hands off each other. Thankfully, Angel was just sober enough to remember where his room was, and how to operate the key lock to open the door.

As soon as the door shut behind them, Angel began to fumble with the zipper on the back of her dress. He was so horny that if he didn't get it quickly, something bad was going to happen.

The girl, whose long nails had been scraping up and down his back, went still suddenly.

"Who's that?" she asked, looking over his shoulder.

"Who?" Confused, Angel turned around.

Glory lay on his bed, polishing off a glass of champagne, wearing her usual attire of a slutty red dress, her feet bare.

"Why the hell are you in my room?" Angel yelled, glaring at his manager.

Smiling, Glory ignored him. "You," she said, pointing at Susie (?), "Out."

Indignant, Susie folded her arms across her chest. "Why don't you make me, ho-bag?"

Before anyone else could react, Glory was shutting the door, the girl sprawled out in the hall.

"Why the hell are you in my room?" repeated Angel.

"Your room? Your room?" Glory had that glint in her eyes that always frightened Angel. "Honeycakes, I paid for this room. I paid for the car that brought you here. I paid for your fucking clothes."

"OK, fine. Why are you in your room?"

Glory suddenly glared at him. "Are you drunk?"

Straightening up, Angel held his head high. "No."

"Fucking drunk," Glory muttered.

"So, what's it any of your business?"

"Well, I was hoping to have a sober conversation with my client concerning legal matters," Glory explained, not sounding at all happy.

He gulped. "Legal matters?"

The grin was back. "Yeah, it seems that the Northern Willamette Casino wants to sue you for trashing the room they gave you, bailing out on one of the shows, and for destroying public property after the last concert."

Any faint hint of drunkenness faded away. "So, what are we going to do?" Angel inquired, sitting on his bed.

"Well," Glory began, "I was going to head back to Tennessee, and have my new client, Lewis Andrews, record the song I legally own, 'A Place Called Home', for his debut CD. What are you going to do?"

"Excuse me?"

"I found out about your little rendezvous with Lorne Pylea." Her voice was cool, almost ice-like. "Apparently, you don't find me to be a suitable representative. So, I've already taken the liberty of dropping you from my client list."

Angel blanched. "What?"

Grinning evilly, Glory recovered the shoes she had kicked off earlier, and her purse. "You can take care of your own legal matters now. Or at least Lorne can, if he's crazy enough to sign you. And on behalf of my label, I want to thank you for donating all the songs you wrote for our writers to cover."

"You can't do that," growled the man, rising to confront her.

She began to walk out of the room, but Angel was right on her heels, grabbing her arm as she reached the door. Glory tried to shake him off. This only managed to make him angrier, and he slammed her against the wall.

"You can't do that," he repeated darkly.

Without hesitating, Glory swung, punching him right in the nose, before giving him a good kick in the crotch.

"I just did," she replied, adjusting herself before walking out, Angel slumping on the floor.
sokkerblondie005-Yeah, yeah, whatever! I would so like to see you defeat me! I will treat you the way I treated that hobo last week . . . with un- kindness. You will wish that you never angered me, because my wrath is like a hundred fire ants biting your feet. The gods themselves to wet their pants whenever I enter a room. After I have chopped off your head and made a nice dip bowl out of your skull, I will use your severed arms as flyswatters. Whacha gonna do about that, punk?

Celestria16- You really seem enthusiastic about that chapter. What, are you whore for violence? Yeah, I know you are. Don't deny it. :) It's all right, because so am I.

Once More With Feeling- I hope you know what to think now, seeing how it's been a few days since I've posted. Yeah, I did a pretty shitty thing to Willow, and made Oz do a pretty shitty thing, but it's all for the sake of the story. Didn't scare you away, did I? makes sad face

Randy Braden- OK, this is going to be a long explanation, so bear with me. I'm not a Willow-Oz hater. Until he left the show, I thought they were the cutest couple in the world. You see, a part of Willow's plot line in this story mirrors the one of Lexie Coop from "Where the Heart Is". In the book, Lexie meets this seemingly charming guy, who ends up being a total bastard, raping her kids and beating her horribly. The end of the last chapter, the thing Buffy says, I stole it from the story. The point Billie Letts and I were trying to make is that we all have some evil inside of us. Oz is generally a good-natured guy. But, he made a stupid mistake by having an affair with that bitch Veruca and losing control of his emotions. Kinda a parallel on his wolfie-ness in BtVS. Everybody does stupid things and this was his, and he pays for it. This was my way to be true to the story. I understand that you're really upset by it, and I'm sorry, but this was my choice as an author, and I hope you can respect that and keep reading.

Lurking-in-the-shadows- Yeah, I had to let Willow do to Veruca what she wasn't able to do in Season Four. Wasn't that slut a bitch? Everytime I watch those episodes, I wanna run her over with a semi-truck, and then smack Oz for being an idiot. But, yeah, thanks!

Samolly- Didn't mean to scare you, hon. Although, that would have been pretty fun. A nice "Don't read if you love Willow and want her alive!" in the author's notes would have caused quite a stir . . . Nah, it was just a fair warning. But, I'm glad you understand why I had to do it.

Mita427- No, your mommy says you're special because she only pretends to love you. In all actuality, you were the one thing that ruined her perfect life. I didn't curse once in my response. Can't let that happen again. Shit damn fucking ass cock bitch cunt penis penis penis dick prick spam. Yeah, that covers it. You know, I really don't need to take your criticism. That's why I have friends. And, there won't be any lust-fucking of Buffy and Spike, although I hope this chapter was a good butt-fucking of Angel. What a prick. Anyhell, I haven't seen the Britney video because she is the spawn of Satan and Ashcroft, but that would be so nice to see her die. Well, love and kisses!

Imzadi- I'm pretty much an evil person, seeing how I put the characters through all these shitty events. Yeah, I never thought that Buffy helped Willow the way Joyce helped Buffy. That's really cool! No, Lindsey will not prosecute Oz because Oz is bye-bye. He won't be back. Sorry. Yeah, I'm a whore, and no one likes me. Kinda like Cordelia, except not as cool.

Comedia- Because of you and my goddamned sister, who kept complaining 'cause I was all hesitant of hurting Willow, almost all of my readers hate me. They are planning on bombing my car, poisoning my dinner, and putting itching powder in my undies. You are a stupid bitch, but I love you so much! Well, as much as a straight girl can. I have no desire to get into your pants, the way I want to for James Marsters and Orlando Bloom . . . wow, mind drifting away to some naughty place. Say hello to your husband and owl for me!