Characters and settings are used without permission, and with no intention of damaging copyright in the original stories. This story may not be distributed on any profit-making basis. Distribution Fanfiction.net, Twisting The Hellmouth, Fonts of Wisdom, other sites please ask. I'm British, so's my spelling - live with it.
Billie got home later than she'd expected on Friday evening; the doctors had insisted on a long series of x-rays and tests, to make sure that her bones were beginning to knit properly where they'd pinned them. She wondered if they'd be taking that much trouble if David Nabbit wasn't footing the bills. Two of his rent-a-cops drove her home and checked the house before she went in, made her promise to set the alarm, and said they'd be back to escort her in the morning.
Billie was tired, but she wanted to get some research done before heading to bed. She wanted to know more about Sunnydale and Willow Rosenberg before she met her. Some information on the other oddities around her would also be nice; Holtz, Angel, Wolfram and Hart. If she'd been at work she would have sent down to the morgue and set some research assistants to work; as it was she thought about cooking, remembered her arm, phoned out for pizza and went on-line with her computer.
About twenty minutes later the doorbell rang and she went to answer it. The pizza boy was waiting outside, and she thanked him and tipped him for his speed; as she was about to shut the door a shadow loomed on the path, and a half-familiar voice said "Might I trouble you for a moment, miss Newman?"
Billie almost dropped the pizza, but said "Certainly. Come in, mister Holtz."
"You're most kind." Holtz stepped into the light. Billie had half-expected an anticlimax, but if anything he was more impressive than she remembered. A good-looking man in his forties, wearing a long brown coat in a style she vaguely thought was called a frock coat, he somehow had an oddly piratical air. "If you'd like to come into the kitchen I can offer you some of this pizza, I think I ordered way too much. And there's some wine in the fridge."
"You seem remarkably calm, miss Newman," he said, following her into the kitchen. As he walked she thought that she could see something rigid under his coat; a sword?
"Why shouldn't I be? You saved my life, or at least saved me from being kidnapped. You killed eight men to do it, which isn't so good, but I'd be stupid to be ungrateful. Sorry there's no meat on this, I'm a vegetarian. There are knives and forks and a pizza cutter in the drawer behind you."
"What would the cutter look like?"
Billie wondered again where Holtz came from, that he didn't know something like that. "A sharp metal disk with a handle. Oh, and see if you can find a corkscrew there." She took a bottle of red wine and a pot of grated Parmesan cheese out of the fridge, and got two glasses and plates.
"Ah, I have them."
"Would you mind cutting a few slices and helping with the bottle? This arm's getting in the way."
"Of course. This smells very good, what is it?"
"Three cheeses, mushrooms, tomatoes, peppers, capers, that sort of thing. Hope there's nothing you're allergic to. And there ought to be a bag with some slices of garlic bread. Pepper's in the mill on the table, if you could put sprinkle a little onto the pizza it'll be good."
Holtz efficiently cut the pizza into eighths, put three on Billie's plate, and took one for himself, and fiddled with the pepper mill for a moment before she told him to twist the top. Billie poured two large glasses of wine, and took a sip. "Not too bad. Cheers."
Holtz sipped a little, raised his eyebrows, and said "Your health. Spanish?"
"Californian."
"Remarkable."
"What can I do for you, mister Holtz?"
"Tell me why Angelus is so interested in you. I thought it was chance that we met, but now I learn that his employee has visited you, and your reporters have tried to see him."
"Do you mean Angel? Angel investigations?"
"Yes."
"Okay... briefly, twenty-odd years ago my sister was run over and killed in Santa Barbara. When her body was examined the doctors learned that she'd recently given birth, but the child was never found. We'd been out of touch for more than a year, and we never learned what had happened to the child or who the father was."
"And Angelus' part in this?"
"He was hired by a girl who recently learned that she had been adopted. Apparently she was found abandoned when she was a few hours old. She paid Angel to look for relatives, eventually he learned that my sister might be the mother. They hired a doctor to make some tests and apparently she's my niece. It looks like the people who tried to kidnap me were somehow interested in that, the doctor who tested me seems to have been working with them, but nobody is quite sure why." She didn't think it was a good idea to mention that Willow was a friend of Angel, or discuss the money.
"That was a very concise summary."
"I'm a journalist, it's my job to get the facts straight. Now it's my turn, Miss Chase asked me about you. Why are they so interested in you?"
"Because Angelus knows I plan to seek revenge for the murder of my wife and children and the rest of his victims."
"Why don't you go to the police?"
"Because they wouldn't believe me, or punish him as he deserves."
Billie thought over what Cordelia had said; that Angel had done Holtz a terrible wrong that could never be put right. She hadn't expected this. Unless...
"When you say murder, was it something he did himself, or did his actions lead to their murder indirectly?"
"He killed them, miss Newman. He and his bitch Darla murdered them. She's escaped me, but Angelus will pay."
"Oh... Maybe if you could tell me the circumstances..."
"Angelus is a monster, miss Newman, a monster that walks as a man. He will tell you otherwise, that he has reformed and seeks redemption for his crimes. If that was true he would have long since taken his own life."
"When did he kill them?"
"Many years ago and in another country."
"Miss Chase said something like that, that he'd done you a terrible wrong years ago. It doesn't really answer the question."
"You're not ready for the truth. Not yet. Speak to Angelus, find out what he really is. Then you'll be ready to believe me."
"Okay... I'm meeting my niece at his offices tomorrow, I'll see what he says. What about Wolfram and Hart and the kidnappers?"
He finished a second slice of pizza and drank more wine, then said "This is good. Wolfram and Hart?"
"Lawyers. We think they hired the men who tried to kidnap me, but there's no proof."
"Curious. I know nothing of this."
"Gavin Park? Lilah Morgan?"
"I've met miss Morgan. She also dislikes Angelus, but lacks commitment. She spends money to harass him, but fears to risk her own life. I do not."
"I got the impression that she's scared of him."
"She should be." He ate more of the pizza; Billie noticed that he used his knife and fork like an European, not an American.
"Where are you from?" she asked eventually.
"Currently Los Angeles. Previously Britain, France, Italy, a dozen other countries, wherever the search took me."
"For Angel... sorry, you were saying Angelus."
"That's right. I thought I had lost him for good, but I was offered a chance to deal with him once and for all, and that bought me to this city."
"You realise that I'll have to report this to the police?"
"Why?" He seemed genuinely curious.
"You've just told me that you plan to kill someone, and they're already looking for you for killing those men when you rescued me. It's my duty to tell them I've seen you again."
"And if you don't?"
"If they find out... oh, possibly arrest as an accessory, almost certainly my paper would lose some of its friends on the police force. If they don't.. well, I'd have Angel's death on my conscience if you succeed and I could have helped to stop you."
"You consider your conscience to be important?"
"Don't you?"
"Certainly. And I can promise you one thing; you need never feel responsible for his death. When you know more you will know why. And I can also promise you that Angelus will not thank you for police involvement."
"I'm beginning to get seriously annoyed with these riddles. Do you think anyone is going to give me the plain unvarnished truth any time soon?"
"I doubt it, but soon I shall try. I think that's all I have to say to you tonight; bon appetit, I'll let myself out."
Once he was gone Billie shuddered for a moment, knowing that he could have killed her in an instant if he'd wanted to, made some notes while their conversation was fresh in her mind, then called the police.
Billie had never been in the Hyperion, but she'd heard stories about the place. One of the most luxurious hotels of the forties and fifties, it closed after a string of suicides ended in mass-murder. In the eighties Joe Rossi had spent a couple of days camped out in the derelict building, interviewing the drifters who sheltered there, he'd come out so tired and depressed that he'd needed a weekend to recover.
At ten on Saturday one of the detectives David Nabbit had supplied walked Billie to the door, then went back to her car once she was safely inside. She suspected that he wanted to stay with her throughout the day, but there was no way she intended to have her first meeting with her niece upset by an armed guard.
The lobby of the Hyperion was impressive, but empty. There was a smell of fresh paint and solvents, and somewhere Billie could hear people talking. She looked around, shrugged, winced with pain as she remembered why her arm was in a sling, and went to the reception desk and rang the bell.
A skinny dark-haired girl came out of a side office, carrying a coffee mug, and said "Oh... Can I help you?" in a strong Texas accent.
"Billie Newman, I'm here to see Willow Rosenberg."
"Oh, Cordy said... you're her aunt, right?"
"That's right."
"I'm Winifred Burkle, call me Fred. I think she's in the garden, if you'all can wait just a second I'll show you."
"Thank you."
She hustled into another room, a few seconds later a tall man with spiky dark hair came out. Billie recognised Angel. He said "Miss Newman, it's good to meet you at last," and came over to shake hands. He had cool dry hands, and a firm but gentle grip.
"Mister Angel, it's kind of you to arrange this."
"It's my pleasure. I owe Willow a lot, it's good to be able to help her. And maybe you'll be able to help me a little, at some point I'd be grateful if we could talk about the kidnap attempt. Maybe later, when Willow goes to her meeting."
"Of course. I have some questions of my own. I was visited by a gentleman named Holtz last night, he told me that you killed his family and that he seeks revenge. I really would love to know more."
"Yes, the police were here this morning, told me you'd been troubled again. I can only apologise, this is my problem, not yours."
"That doesn't really tell me much. I do have a lot of questions."
"I'd imagine you do, I hope I'll be able to answer some of them, but I expect you'd like to meet Willow first. Fred, show Miss Newman to the garden, and remind Cordy that Connor shouldn't be out in the sun too long."
"It's okay, Angel, the canopy's up on the chair, and you know how careful Cordy is. He'll be fine."
"I know, it's just..."
"Relax, he'll be fine."
"First child?" asked Billie, as Fred led her through the hotel.
"That's right, and Darla died when he was born. He's kinda over-protective, we're trying to wean him from hovering over the poor babe all the time."
The garden was beautiful, and a little crowded. Cordelia was sitting next to a stroller, and two other women were kneeling in front of it, their backs to Billie. She saw that one of them had red hair, and realised that she must be Willow. A third woman, a brunette with the look of a model, stood nearby talking to three men, one black and two white.
"Willow," shouted Fred, "Your aunt is here!"
"Thanks for the gentle introduction," said Cordelia, as Willow tried to stand and turn simultaneously and nearly fell over. The woman next to her, who Billie recognised as Tara, steadied her. "Willow," said Cordelia, "this is Billie Newman. Miss Newman, I'd like you to meet Willow Rosenberg."
"Hi," Willow said tentatively, getting to her feet properly and walking over to meet her. "I guess we lost track of the time, I meant to be inside to meet you."
"Hello," said Billie. "It's... um... you look a lot like Janice... your mother..." and to her horror burst into tears.
"Would you like some herbal tea?" asked Willow, once Billie was a little recovered. Willow and Fred had helped her to a comfortable bench on the shady side of the garden. "or something else? Coffee? A mocha?" Most of the men had hastily disappeared, leaving Cordelia and Tara with the baby, and the other woman talking to the one remaining man, who reminded Billie of a young Tom Cruise but was taller, on the far side of the garden.
"Tea sounds good," said Billie. Fred left to get it. "I'm sorry, I thought I was ready for this, but I guess I was wrong. I hadn't expected you to remind me of her so much, somehow. You even dress a little like her."
"And that's because Willow's fashion sense was formed when she was about five," said Cordelia, gently rocking the stroller.
"Ten at least," said Willow.
"If you insist," said Cordelia, turning to talk to Tara.
"Sorry about that," said Willow, "We've been having this argument since we were twelve or so."
"It broke the ice," said Billie, "I really wouldn't worry too much about her opinion, I think that look is right for you."
"I guess. What was my mother like?"
Somehow Billie knew that Willow wanted the unvarnished truth. "Bright, a little lazy, and a little wild. We thought she was doing well at college, then her grades began to slip and she suddenly took off. I think she just decided that she wanted to do something different for a while." She reached into her bag and pulled out a wallet of photos. "This is her. You can see what I meant about her looks."
"She was a lot more attractive than I am," said Willow, leafing through them. While she was looking Fred bought out tea for both of them and went back inside.
"I really don't think so. The last two pictures are your grandparents, I'm afraid they're both dead."
"And my father?"
"We don't know. You've got to remember that in the early eighties things were a little different; people were more promiscuous than they are now, and we were only just becoming aware of things like AIDS. There wasn't a steady boyfriend while she was at UCLA. We've never been able to learn anything about her movements beyond the first month or so after she left, after this length of time we probably never will, so it's pretty much a dead end. You would have been conceived about three months after she dropped out of sight, I guess, so presumably someone she met on her travels."
"I guess it was too much to hope for. Do I have any other relatives?"
"None in my family. As I said Mom and Dad are both dead. There are a couple of second cousins I haven't heard from in years, that's about it. How about you? What about your adoptive family?"
Willow took a deep breath. "That's a long and kinda complicated story. I thought they were my real parents, thought I knew them, a few weeks ago I found out that everything I thought I knew about them was a lie... no, that's not quite right, that it was the least important part of their lives. They really were psychologists, but their careers were... I guess you'd call it a cover. They genuinely did want a child, but at the same time I made them look more plausible. And that's about all I can tell you about them, except that they're gone."
"A cover? They were... spies, or something?"
"Not exactly. This is where it gets complicated. I've had to agree not to discuss the details of this with anyone, and I do mean anyone, who doesn't have a good reason to know. A few of my friends know all of it. I'm going to be asking for permission to tell you, but I already know that one of the conditions will be that the whole story never gets into the papers. Part of the problem is the money..."
"Cordelia said something about an inheritance."
"I'm a billionaire. Several times over."
"What?" said Billie, and was echoed by Cordelia. Connor began to cry, and Cordelia wheeled him inside.
"Goddess knows I didn't ask for it. A few years ago my uncle died... the guy I thought was my uncle, anyway... and it took a long while to unravel his finances. Horrendously complicated overseas investments, so complicated that governments were involved. I had no idea what was going on until after my parents were gone, then I was approached and told about it. The deal we've agreed is that they're taking over the management of the original assets, basically buying me out and leaving me free to do what I like with the capital as it becomes available. April's mostly investing it into technological startups, long-term research projects, that sort of thing."
"April?"
"April Summers, my secretary. She's over there in the green dress, talking to her boyfriend Tom Zapf."
"Miss Chase mentioned a Buffy Summers; is April a relative?"
"Buffy's my best friend, and Tara and I share a house with her and her sister in Sunnydale. April's her cousin.. adopted cousin, it's a long story... she's got some unusual qualifications for the job, starting with a photographic memory."
"And Tara?" asked Billie, trying to hide her knowledge.
"Tara," said Willow, raising her voice slightly, "could you come over a minute, sweetie... Billie, this is Tara McClay, she's... well, I suppose the best way to put it is that we're a couple."
"I'm pleased to meet you," said Billie, offering Tara a hand. Tara blushed and smiled, and said "It's a pleasure. I'm sorry if Willow's startled you, we both thought it would be best to be honest about this from the outset."
"I'm... well, saves me from having to worry about the traditional aunt's job of playing matchmaker, I guess."
"Yeah," said Willow, giggling, "it certainly does that."
"How long have you two been together?" asked Billie.
"A couple of years now."
"That's good. You're both at college?"
"That's right," said Tara. "But we have a lot of interests in common aside from that."
"I'm sorry," said Billie, "I've known you about twenty minutes and I'm already behaving like a nosy aunt. I'll be talking about 'young people' in a minute."
"It's good that you're taking an interest," said Willow, "it's more than Sheila and Ira ever did..."
"Sit down," said Billie, "then it'll be easier to embarrass you both."
"Maybe later," said Tara, "You two need to get to know each other first, and I want to talk to Angel about a blessing ceremony for Connor." She went inside.
"Cordelia said something about Wicca," Billie said hesitantly.
"We're both pretty much committed to it. We came to it by very different routes but it's one of the things that bought us together... well, that and hating the campus Wicca group at UC Sunnydale. Bunch of wanna-blessed-be's, more interested in bake sales than the spirit."
"I'm afraid I don't know much about it... is there anything that I shouldn't do or say, or give you to eat if you visit? Come to think of it, I understand you were bought up Jewish, should I get kosher food?"
"No, there's nothing like that, not in Wicca. As for Judaism, we did keep kosher at home and I took sandwiches into school, but it was almost impossible in college and I stopped trying eventually."
"Well, if it helps at all the family are nominally Episcopalian, but your mother and I were never really religious."
"It certainly adds to the confusion. Hey, that means I can watch the Snoopy Christmas show without feeling guilty... sorry, long story."
"I get the impression that there are a lot of long stories. Everyone I've met since I first heard that you might be alive has dropped odd hints, and even leaving aside the kidnap attempt and Holtz and the evil lawyers..."
"Evil lawyers?"
"Wolfram and Hart; they served an injunction on me instructing me to stop investigating links between them and the kidnappers. As I was saying, they dropped some hints about your friends, so did Cordelia, so did Holtz, and the web searches I did on Sunnydale last night were so odd that I'm beginning to think that there really is something in the water, whatever the scientists say. If I promise not to print anything, would you please tell me what's going on?"
"I can tell you a lot of it, but you're not gonna like it... you're certainly not gonna be able to publish it."
"Try me."
Willow took a deep breath. "Okay, vampires and magic and demons are real, Sunnydale was built over the mouth of Hell by an immortal magician who had a hundred-year plan to become a giant demonic snake, and Wolfram and Hart serve the forces of darkness."
"What?"
"I can tell that this is gonna take a while..."
To Be Continued