Tuesday

Marcus hurried down the halls of Wolfram & Hart. He was late. Not only had he overslept, but he had also proven himself unable to resist the charms of a freshly showered Jessica. A broad grin formed on his face when he thought about her. He glanced over today's schedule in his mind. As far as he knew, he had no important appointments planned, so maybe he could take the afternoon off and spend it with her.

He opened the door to his office to find Patterson perched on the chair in front of his desk. At the sound of the door opening, Patterson looked up from the file he was reading. "Good morning Sir."

"Morning, Patterson." Marcus frowned. "Sorry I'm late. Did we have an appointment?"

"No, Sir," Patterson said. "It's just that I kind of stopped having my own office space. See, I'm not in Research anymore --"

"Consider it taken care of," Marcus declared. "Now you're here, let's talk strategy." He walked over to his chair and sat down. "Team Angel. What are they up to?"

Patterson straightened his back. "Not much good, Sir. Well, technically, a lot of good, but not from the firm's perspective. I've heard some rumors that I'm about to check out, and I'm reading up on the individual members of the team. There's one that puzzles me though."

Marcus nodded. "Let me guess. Charles Gunn, the street kid turned brilliant lawyer? Winifred Burkle aka the Blue Bitch? Spike who mysteriously re-appeared after being burned to death in a hellmouth? Or the Big Chief of Redemption himself who seems to be suffering from delusions of grandeur lately?"

"None of those, Sir." Patterson pointed at the file in front of him. "Mr. Wyndham-Pryce. It says in his file that he shot a robot in the chest five times, thinking it was his father. I can't understand why the firm didn't try to persuade him to join our side."

Marcus was taken aback for a moment. "Did he really? Let me see that." Thumbing through the file, Marcus had to admit that the firm had been deprived of a wonderful opportunity. He doubted the Partners were in the loop on this one, seeing as he himself hadn't heard about it. At all. "Find out where those cyborgs came from." He leaned back in his chair, arms folded behind his head, and added pensively, "I smell conspiracy."

After a short while of discussing Angel and his associates further, Patterson exited the room, leaving Marcus to think and eventually answer some long overdue emails. Wyndham-Pryce had shot a cyborg, truly believing the thing to be his father. That didn't sound like the sort of thing that would escape the Senior Partners' attention. It didn't matter if it had been to save Winifred Burkle's life; being responsible for the death of one your parents -- even if said parent was a condescending piece of scum -- didn't go over smoothly. I should know. He shook the sudden thought, cursing himself for having allowed Jessica to rake the memory up.

Jessica. As always his thoughts returned to her, something that didn't help him focus on his current Black Thorn predicament. Idly, he wondered what she would be preparing for dinner that night. She hadn't been lying when she'd told him that she couldn't cook, although the pancakes she'd made yesterday had been exceptionally good. A bright idea hit him. He could have Patterson find a cookbook or something like that. Hadn't she complained about not knowing what to prepare anymore that morning? He dialed Patterson's number. After a few rings, his assistant picked up.

"Could you pick up a cookbook somewhere?" Marcus asked without introduction.

"Throwing the Senior Partners a dinner party, Sir?" Patterson snickered, then turned serious. "Sorry Sir. I'm sure it can't be that hard to get a hold of one of those. Should I have it delivered to your office?"

"Yes please. Make it fast." Marcus ended the call and leaned back. Maybe he could even underline some recipes he liked before taking it downstairs to Jessica.

Jessica finally gathered enough focus to submerge herself in the world of environmental law again. She had been thinking about Marcus for two hours straight since he left and that apparently had worn her busy mind out, because now she was able to read through the files without her thoughts drifting off to pleasant thoughts of the previous nights.

She sat herself on the sofa Indian style, a notepad on her lap, a brilliant idea forming in her mind. Mr. Parker had attached a short hand-written summary of the case, including some of the problems he'd encountered while researching. She started writing down a list of the bottlenecks and proceeded to try and formulate a way around each of them. Soon she was absorbed in finding suitable solutions to the most urgent matters.

Uncharacteristically, Marcus had replied to every email in his inbox around lunchtime. He rose from his chair to look out the window. What was taking Patterson so long? How hard could it be to locate a cookbook? Wolfram & Hart had records of virtually everything, so there had to be something cooking-related in the archives somewhere. Then again, the archives consisted of a whole dimension filled with books, files and other paperwork. Maybe that was what kept Patterson busy.

A knock on the door interrupted his thoughts. "Come in."

A deliveryman entered the room. "Delivery for Mr. Hamilton." He handed Marcus a clipboard and a pen. "Sign here." After Marcus signed the slip of paper, the man was gone as quickly as he'd come in.

He unpacked the package and found two cookbooks. Then where the hell is Patterson? He stormed out of his office. Peter looked up, taken aback by Marcus' furious expression. "Sir?"

"Where's Patterson?" Marcus set to pacing in front of Peter's desk. "He should have been back here hours ago, damnit."

"Maybe he got held up, Sir. Have you tried calling him?" Peter ventured, desperately trying to be of assistance.

Marcus perked up. That was a pretty good idea. He dialed Patterson's number for the second time that morning. After a few rings somebody answered. "Patterson?" Marcus barked. The connection went dead. Looking at his cell phone with concern, he felt his anger rising. What was going on? Had Patterson double-crossed him? Had something happened to the man? Marcus turned to Peter. "When was the last time you saw him?"

Peter thought for a moment. "When he left your office, Sir."

"And you haven't seen or heard from him since?" Marcus frowned. Patterson had betrayed him or something had occurred that prevented him from answering his phone. Either way, it did not bode well. Damn! Just when things were going relatively well.

The young man's face lit up. "There were men here earlier, asking about Mr. Patterson. Maybe they know where he is."

Rolling his eyes, Marcus decided to not waste time on reprimanding him. "Did you happen to catch their names? Never mind. I already know you didn't. Call me the instant you hear anything from Patterson." He headed toward the door, slamming it shut behind him. Now where to begin?

His gut feeling told him Patterson had been taken by the men asking for him, and Marcus was reasonably certain the Black Thorn was behind it. Okay, now think, damnit. Who in the Black Thorn had the brain, the nerve and the resources to kidnap his personal assistant in the middle of the day in the Wolfram & Hart building? Sebassis. After the demise of the archduke's right hand demon Artode, Sebassis' guards had been loyal, but lacked the glue that held them together. Which provided him with an opening to get his assistant back.

He hurried down the corridor to the elevator, then paused as a thought hit him. Would they really have taken him to Sebassis' estate? If the order to kidnap Patterson had originated from the archduke, he probably had taken into account that Marcus would come looking for him. To save time, maybe it'd be best if he did a security sweep of the Wolfram & Hart building first. He turned on his heels and headed for Andrew Kerr's office. It might be the man's first day working for the firm but he'd just have to adjust.

Kerr looked at him suspiciously as Marcus burst into his office. "Can I help you?"

"I'm Marcus Hamilton, also known as the reason you've gotten this job. Your friend Chris Patterson is missing," Marcus cut to the chase. Off the confused look on Kerr's face, he continued. "Get me the camera feeds for my office and do a full security sweep."

Kerr composed himself and made a call. "They're waiting for us in the security office. Let's go."

Thankful for the man's quick recovery, Marcus strode into the corridor again. "So, how's your first day?"

"It was pretty quiet for a big firm, Mr. Hamilton, but I guess that's about to change," Kerr answered. "What do you know about Chris' disappearance?"

Marcus shook his head. "Not much. There were two men asking for him this morning. He was supposed to check in with me hours ago. I've made some enemies recently and I'm pretty sure they took him. I suspect that a demon called Sebassis is behind it."

"Why do you think that?" Kerr inquired. "And... a demon?"

Oh dear. This was not the time to explain about vampires and demons and whatnot. "Yeah. Demons are real. Don't ask."

"I know that. Hell, five of my employees are vampires. I'm just surprised that demons take part in something so... mundane as kidnapping," Kerr mused.

Arriving at the security office, Marcus shoved the man in front of him. "You take the lead. They answer to you so first thing: assert the fact that you're their superior."

Kerr looked back at him for a second. "I have done this before, you know." With that, he opened the door and asked for the camera feeds in a demanding tone.

Within minutes, Marcus and Kerr were sitting in front of a computer screen, checking the surveillance tapes from that morning. As soon as the camera showed the men entering Marcus' office, he recognized them. "What the...!"

Kerr started asking for other tapes to try and figure out where the men were headed after they'd left Marcus' office, but Marcus interrupted him. "No need. I know where he is."

"Great, let's go get him." Kerr rose from his chair. "Where to?"

"You're not coming. I can handle these men." Marcus wondered briefly how much Patterson had told his friend about him, because Kerr flinched a little -- barely visible, but it was a flinch nonetheless. "Go back to work." Kerr nodded and Marcus strode to the elevator, pressing the button for the fifth floor.

He headed for a door in a quiet part of the building. Not bothering to knock, he burst into the room, startling the three occupants. Patterson was one of them, lying on the floor visibly battered. There was blood oozing out of his nose and mouth and he was cradling himself in a fetal position. "One of you morons wanna tell me what this is all about?" Marcus addressed the two guilty looking goons that stood beside his wounded assistant.

"Mr. Hamilton," the taller of the two replied meekly. "We didn't know he was yours. We had orders to--"

Marcus cut him off with a brusque gesture of his hand. "I don't want to hear it. Get lost. Now."

The two men hurriedly left the room, speaking in hushed but agitated voices. Marcus helped Patterson up and scanned his body for severe injuries. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah. Mind if I borrow this?" Patterson wiped the blood off his face with Marcus' tie.

Marcus blinked. Patterson was rapidly becoming accustomed to his position as Marcus' assistant. Probably a little too accustomed. He didn't really mind the stains on his tie; there were ten more where it came from. He was just not sure if he was comfortable with someone being that comfortable around him. "Well, I guess I should start calling you Chris. Your blood is on my tie after all."

"That would be nice, Sir." Patterson gingerly touched his nose and wiggled it. "Am I still pretty?"

Marcus let out a surprised laugh at his assistant's boldness. "Let's not go there. Seriously, what is wrong with you? When did I stop being intimidating?"

"Right around the time you asked for a cookbook, Sir. Did the books arrive on time?" Patterson limped to the door. Marcus followed him, a slight frown creasing his brow.

"Yes, got them this morning. I'd appreciate it if you'd stop poking fun at me though," Marcus admonished.

They walked back to Marcus' office in companiable silence. Marcus glanced at Patterson's profile. "Go home, Chris. Let your wife patch you up."

"Thank you, Sir. I'll see you tomorrow." Patterson shot him a grateful look and left.

The rest of Marcus' afternoon was spent in relative peace and quiet. He plotted bloody vengeance against Patterson's kidnappers and made some calls to arrange for appointments later in the week. Remembering his intention to go home early he looked at his watch. Time to go.

Wednesday

Marcus stretched and yawned. He'd slept like a log; lately he slept better than ever. It didn't take a genius to figure out why that was. Last night had gone by quickly, they had watched a movie together and made small talk. Naturally, they'd had sex again. It seemed like it was only getting better. She was getting more courageous, sometimes trying to take the lead. Of course, he couldn't let that happen. Yet. Since he was treading on new territory anyway, he might consider encouraging that behavior at some point in the near future.

In all the confusion surrounding Patterson's abduction, Marcus had forgotten to take the cookbooks with him when he went home Tuesday night. Jessica had prepared a non-descript dish that looked vaguely chicken-shaped, and tasted accordingly.

She had been pleased to hear that he'd found her something to help her cook better. She'd learned by now that Marcus didn't need to eat, but she still did. Anything to make the food she prepared more tasty was greatly appreciated. She'd said she couldn't expect Marcus to bring take-out every day; neither could she ask him to cook at night while she'd been sitting around the apartment all day. So yes, she had been happy about finally being able to offer him something beside barely edible meals.

Glancing at the still sleeping figure next to him, Marcus rose from the bed silently and showered. He contemplated the day ahead while dressing himself. In the course of the day, Patterson would hopefully come up with news on Team Angel's schemes to bring Wolfram & Hart down from the inside. Marcus didn't doubt for a second that Angel and his crew were hatching a dim-witted plan like that. The vampire might be a champion for the Powers, but he certainly wasn't the brains of the operation. That questionable honor fell to Wyndham-Pryce now that the Burkle girl had been infected by Illyria.

With the death of his beloved Fred, though, Wyndham-Pryce had lost whatever common sense he'd possessed and at present he was walking around like a lunatic. The crazy giggle he would utter every now and then was downright unsettling. Marcus strongly suspected that the man was looking to get himself killed, and as a result, he would sign up for any idiotic and far-fetched campaign that Angel could come up with. And Marcus was certain that, without a sane Wyndham-Pryce to rein the vampire in, Angel's plans could not be anything else than utterly stupid. Case in point: trying to kill Illyria without thinking about the considerable asset she could prove to be to the so-called good fight. Oh well, his loss was the Partners' gain. He didn't rule out the possibility that Illyria would revert to Angel's side, as opposed to the fairly neutral stance she had taken the last couple of weeks. He assumed Illyria's loyalty lay with the Englishman, because of the memories she shared with Winifred Burkle. Where Wyndham-Pryce went, Illyria wasn't far behind. Like a lovesick puppy. He was pretty sure that was not at all helpful to preserve the man's mental health. If there was any left, that was.

He made some coffee and decided against waking Jessica up. It would be better if he arrived at work on time today. Yesterday was the first time he'd been late in, well, ever. It wasn't like anybody was going to call him on that fact; it was just that he'd always prided himself on being punctual. Overly punctual, some might say, but Marcus wasn't one of those people. To him, being on time meant being able to chide others for being late and that was always a lot of fun when people were as scared of someone as they were of him.

Acting on a whim, he searched for a piece of paper and a pen to leave Jessica a message. He hesitated for a moment before placing the note on the pillow next to her. She'd find it and she'd read it and she'd think of him. The thought made him feel content, and he left the apartment with a smile on his face.

Jessica woke up to the sound of the front door closing. Marcus must have left already, so that left her with no chance of some pre-breakfast fun. She sighed wistfully and turned around, intent on sleeping some more before she'd have to get up and face the challenges of finding something to cook without the use of a cookbook. She caught sight of a piece of paper on Marcus' pillow. Reaching for it, her eyes scanned the words, wondering what he'd deemed worthy to write a note about.

Good morning sunshine,

Hope you have a great day. I'll be thinking of you.

M

PS: I'll be back later to drop off those books... wear something easily accessible!

A wide grin formed on her face as she read the words. It was just a silly note, probably written just to convey his feelings to her without actually saying it. Like men were known to do. He'd come back later that day and judging from his words, he was planning on having a midday quickie. Well, she could live with that. Going over her wardrobe in her mind, she decided on wearing a short summer dress. The only thing Marcus would have to do was zip it open and she'd be virtually naked. Just thinking about it made the tingly feeling in her abdomen return. She got up, showered and got dressed.

Marcus was just about to lower himself on the chair behind his desk when Patterson burst into his office, panting like he'd just been chased. Marcus raised one eyebrow at him. "Good morning. Something wrong?"

"Not really Sir. Good morning. I was hiding from Senator Brucker. I got the distinct impression she wanted to talk to me, and I figured that wasn't the best of ideas right now." Patterson plopped down in his usual chair.

"Good call. How's your face?" Marcus inquired.

"Ruggedly handsome as always, Sir." Patterson produced a slip of paper from his inside pocket. "Seems like I didn't have to pry too hard to find out our fearless leader's plans. That blonde bombshell might not be smart but she's got vampire hearing. And she likes me."

"Harmony likes everybody," Marcus muttered, extending his hand. "Let me see that."

As Marcus had suspected, Angel was planning on taking down Wolfram & Hart from the inside. What made Marcus chuckle, however, was the fact that Angel thought the Black Thorn was the means to do that. There had to be a way he could use that to his advantage. He started mapping out a strategy in his mind, incorporating Angel's innate stupidity and the annoyance the Black Thorn presented to himself.

He was about to divulge his plans to Patterson when Peter stuck his head around the door tentatively. "Mr. Hamilton. Bad news, Sir."

A little annoyed by the interruption Marcus looked up. "What is it?"

"It's the Senior Partners, Sir. They want to talk to you." The look on Peter's face spoke volumes as he retreated and closed the door quietly.

Marcus sighed. There we go. So much for dropping the cookbooks off at his apartment and indulging in the pleasures of the flesh, so to speak. Not wanting to disappoint Jessica, he took a piece of paper, wrote down a series of numbers and handed it to Patterson along with the key to his apartment. "Can you drop off those books at my apartment? This is the combination for the elevator. Burn it or eat it as soon as you get there."

Patterson raised his eyebrows in surprise, then composed himself. "Consider it done, Sir. Go get 'em."

"Thanks." Marcus rose to his feet and strode to the elevator purposefully.

Jessica was in the kitchen pouring herself a drink when the front door opened. Assuming Marcus had come home to drop off the books, she put the carton back in the refrigerator and headed to the living room. Not bothering to look who had come in, she said seductively, "You only have to unzip it and I'm all yours."

The man looking back at her in amusement wasn't Marcus. "Mind if I take a rain check, Miss Nader? I don't think Mr. Hamilton would approve." He placed the books he was holding on the living room table and smiled at her congenially.

Jessica eyed the stranger warily and considered her options. She couldn't flee; she didn't have the key to the front door. He didn't look dangerous, but could you really tell from someone's appearance? She backed up into the kitchen. "Who are you?"

"Chris Patterson. Personal assistant to Mr. Hamilton. He had an important meeting to attend, so he asked me to drop these off." He pointed to the books on the table. "Which reminds me." The man fished a slip of paper out of his pocket and stuck it in his mouth. With a look of mild disgust on his face, he started munching on it.

Bewildered, Jessica decided this man was probably not much of a threat. "What are you doing?"

"Just obeying orders." Patterson observed her closely while chewing ardently. After he'd swallowed the lump of paper, he cleared his throat. "Pardon my impudence, Miss, but you don't seem overly vexed by being held here against your will."

She bit her lip. He knew? Had Marcus told him? And how long ago? She'd been pretty sure he hadn't seen her as his captive for a couple of days now, but if this man knew about their situation, she might have been wrong. Then again, maybe Marcus had told him as soon as he'd captured her. The fact that this man didn't know about the change in their relationship said nothing in itself; it just meant that Marcus didn't discuss his feelings with his assistant. Which made sense when you thought about it. She decided to divulge the situation to Patterson.

"It's not like that," Jessica explained. "It used to be, but things changed. He's very sweet once you get to know him."

Patterson choked. "Sweet?" he spluttered, then nodded thoughtfully. "I guess he is, when you think away the evilness and the bloodlust."

"That's not who he is," Jessica defended Marcus. "He's actually very nice, although maybe you could say he... has issues."

Poor girl, Patterson mused. Then again, he couldn't be sure his employer didn't reciprocate her feelings. Hamilton had after all spared the lives of him and his family when he'd had every right to terminate them. At least according to the Wolfram & Hart code of honor. That had to mean something had changed within Hamilton's mind. Patterson had heard tons of stories of employees being brutally tortured and slaughtered by his current boss; none of them had been spared like he'd been. Plus, the man seemed blatantly happy lately. Even to the point that it got uncanny. Still, Patterson enjoyed working for him. Hamilton seemed to appreciate his talents and really valued his opinion, something that his supervisor in Research had been lacking in.

"Hey, you don't have to convince me," Patterson said, hands raised in an apologetic gesture. "I like the guy. It's a pleasure working for him when I'm not being kidnapped or held at knife point."

Jessica smiled tiredly. "Guess nothing about this place is ordinary, huh?"

"Nope," Patterson agreed. "Wolfram & Hart is pretty much the poster firm for bizarre. But it pays the bills. And amply so, I might add." He prepared to leave. Opening the door, he turned back to her with an unreadable expression on his face. "It was nice to meet you, Miss Nader. Take care of yourself."

Marcus headed down the long corridor leading to the Senior Partners' quarters. He'd expected this meeting sooner or later, but had hoped it would be a little later. Later would have provided him with enough time to work out the kinks in his plan before he'd have to set it into motion. He would have liked to discuss it with Patterson first. Halting in front of a large double door, he dismissed any feelings of concern. They weren't of any use right now. He pushed open both doors.

Seated in the middle of the room at a large rectangular table were two men. A third man was standing in front of a large window, facing away from him. He didn't bother to turn around when Marcus entered.

The seated men looked at him with identical blank expressions on their faces. One of them was an Asian looking man, while the other had a distinctive South American look with tanned skin and black hair, like an Aztec or an Incan man. Both of them were immaculately dressed in a suit with matching ties. Of course, this was just the appearance they chose when they visited this dimension, and Marcus knew what they looked like in their original state. It wasn't pretty.

Marcus turned his attention to the man standing by the window, the third Partner. It was a tall black man, and his clothes were considerably more modern than those of the other Partners. His hands were folded behind his back and he appeared very much at ease in the lush office. He was never one to interfere in the meetings though; the third Partner usually kept quiet, only speaking when his opinion was required. He always gave the impression he'd rather be somewhere else. Which was an emotion Marcus could relate to right now. Jessica.

With a shock he realized he'd just done something appallingly stupid. He'd sent Patterson to his apartment. While he'd been certain the vampires he'd sent to deliver groceries on her first day wouldn't help her escape, he couldn't be sure about Patterson. The man seemed to have a conscience, and could probably be convinced to let her go by sufficient crying and pleading. Well, there was nothing he could do about it right now. It would be a shame if Patterson had let her out; he'd miss having an assistant who was actually helpful. He'd find Jessica in a heartbeat, that wasn't even an issue. If she had gotten him to release her however, it would mean that their last days together had been a lie, and that was a thought that bothered him more than he cared to admit. A polite cough shook him from his self-deprecation.

Knowing from experience the best thing to do was to let the Partners start the conversation, Marcus sunk down in a chair opposite the two men.

"Marcus," Tezcatlipoca, the Aztec man, acknowledged him. "Kuan-Yu, Gaunab and myself thought it was time for a re-evaluation of your status as liaison to us."

An exasperated huff from Gaunab, the man by the window, indicated that he didn't necessarily agree with anything Tezcatlipoca was about to disclose. Kuan-Yu however nodded enthusiastically at the mention of his name.

Marcus rolled his eyes. "Black Thorn complained about my 'insolent and childish' manner?"

"Basically, yes." Kuan-Yu leaned forward. "That Sebassis is a cocky bastard, isn't he?"

"Don't get me started," Marcus sighed. "You haven't even dealt with him in person. It took me quite some willpower to refrain from taking one of his horns and beating him to death with it."

Kuan-Yu nodded understandingly. "He does seem to conceive his position in the Black Thorn as irreplaceable."

Tezcatlipoca spoke up. "Can we get back to the matter at hand please? Sebassis has brought it to our attention that you once again have indulged in your need for... shall we say entertainment? He says the girl distracts you and causes you to 'make misguided decisions'. He suggests you should be expunged from existence and then fired, effective immediately. Which seems rather redundant, to be honest."

Gaunab, still by the window, chuckled in a sinister manner. Marcus briefly observed the man's back, then turned his attention back to Tezcatlipoca. "Get to the point."

"Play nice, Marcus," Tezcatlipoca berated sternly. "It's not wise to rub the Black Thorn the wrong way. We need them."

Marcus scoffed. "Need them? What for?"

Fed up with Marcus' behavior, Tezcatlipoca raised his voice. "Enough. This is not why we summoned you here. Why is that girl still alive? If she interferes with the execution of our plans, kill her. There is no room for negotiation. We've been patient enough as it is."