…
There was some hostility from the slayers, so the watchers rode with Angel in the SUV, along with the bodies, which were wrapped and hidden under a thick padded utility blanket in the back.
The remaining slayers and Giles rode between the two vans as the three vehicles inched along in the traffic.
Buffy had called and checked in with AI, alerting them to the situation and to expect walking wounded and three bodies. Then a quick 'we're alive' to her dad but telling him not to expect them home anytime soon.
The rest of the ride was in silence.
…
The bodies were in the morgue, the injured tended, equipment separated for cleaning and the slayers washing up and resting.
"We lost Kelly, Morgan and Tracy for nothing." Buffy was pacing in her office as she spoke, grief the emotion fueling her anger. "If we'd actually stopped an apocalypse, maybe I could say they died for a just cause, but we didn't. We walked ourselves into a trap and got three slayers killed." In none of her rants did she include Kwan as a loss.
Angel, who was leaning on the desk and watching his wife's continuous back and fourths, which was borderline making him dizzy, decided he need to take a break.
It wasn't him she was talking to anyways, that was Marie, but he'd heard the rant enough times where it was maddening.
"Where are you going?" Buffy directed the question to him when she noticed him heading for the door.
"To check downstairs." He replied, deliberately being vague. The offices being on the top floor, downstairs could be anywhere from one floor below to the sub-basement, which could be the dorms, the training rooms, café, Med-Ward, Library, classrooms…
"The Watchers remain in containment until I say so." Came her warning, a threat that wasn't masked.
"Understood." He replied as he walked out the door.
It hadn't been his choice, nor had he been given a vote, but all the Watchers from both the AI building and the Hyperion were immediately rounded up and placed into the containment rooms in the basement when the three vehicles returned from the Hellmouth, which were certainly not designed to fit 19 people, minus the dead Kwan and Theodore, who'd been rushed to surgery when they'd arrived back.
He should have been ravenous by then, but with the loss of life weighting down on him, his stomach wasn't interested in food. Instead, he rode down to the basement and walked down the hall to the Med-Ward, hoping to find out how Theodore was holding out.
As he pushed through the double doors, he nearly took out Cassidy, who'd been heading out. "Whoops, sorry, you okay?" He apologized, grabbing the door to keep it from swinging back at her.
"I'll live." She shook herself and looked up, just then seeming to notice who it was, "Although you of all people being down here does make me think I'm suffering hallucinations from a concussion."
To tell the truth, when a blond slayer and tall unconscious bleeding man suddenly appeared in the Med-Ward a few hours ago, she was surprised, but not as much as realizing it wasn't Buffy and Angel for once.
"Ha. Ha." He mumbled, "I wasn't hurt." Angel insisted, which wasn't the total truth, he'd received a few claw marks during the fight but wasn't about to confess it or else she would want to check them or give him a rabies vaccination. Besides he'd already healed. "I came down about Theodore. He…um… alive?"
Nodding, Cass waved him into the room, as they had been loitering in the doorway. "Yes, for now." She answered, looking rather pensive, "Got to love those anterior abdominal penetrating wounds."
"For now?" Angel questioned, unsure how to take that. Cass normally gave a clearer prognosis, she was very much a fan of black and white, or live vs won't live.
The medic shook her head, "Sorry, tired. The blood loss was mostly controlled, but there was a tiny flow I couldn't locate, but the major concern is peritonitis or sepsis. The knife nicked his lower intestine, which spilled some not-so-healthy bacteria and digested material into his stomach cavity. I've loaded him up on antibiotics, but even today's medical marvels can't always hold infections in check."
As someone born and raised in the 1700's, Angel was well aware of what infections could do. Living in a time period where a cut could send you to the grave with gangrene. Unfortunately, he, nor anyone else, knew about germs back then. It was thought disease was spread by evil spirits, miasmas or as punishments from God.
There was a scientist named Girolamo Fracastoro who proposed a 'Germ theory' back in 1546, but the miasma theory was what the big-time scholars embraced, so it took numerous scientists building upon their findings for many decades until the late 1800's before the germ theory finally was implemented, and even then it didn't truly come into common practice until the late 1900's. Sad really, how badly scientific research and conclusive experimentation are no match for human stubbornness and ego.
The red-headed doctor yawned, "Theo's resting now, Becky volunteered to stay and watch over him, so I'm going to grab a nap."
Angel waved her off then wandered over to the back of the room, where the operating/emergency section was located. He remembered pacing outside the door when Buffy was being operated on, praying she'd survive the abdominal shot from her father's gun. She nearly hadn't.
Peeking through the window, he could see Becky wearing a set of scrubs, not unlike those Cassidy had been wearing, her hand lightly holding Theodore's.
'She's got it bad.' He thought, recognizing the look a young woman gives when she's falling in love. He couldn't really blame the girl for falling for the young watcher almost the same day he met her, he and Buffy had felt a connection almost at first sight.
After a few moments, he left the Med-Ward and decided to walk down the hall to the containment rooms, where both Hank, after shooting Buffy, and Marcy, who's body-napped Buffy, had both been held prisoner in the past.
At present, the three cells that would sleep two each were overcrowded with the 19 watchers, who looked like too many sardines in too small a can.
They were talking, well arguing and cursing more like, about the slayers who'd thrown them into the cells hours ago. "Why won't they tell us why?" One of them was asking, "Kwan and Theodore are missing, is our incarceration about that? Did they do something?"
Someone sitting on the floor by the bars noticed Angel standing there and yelled to him, then quickly changed his tone, "Hey! Um…ah…Mr. Angel…sir. Can you please tell us what's going on? Please?"
Most of them were asking please by then, so Angel took a breath and walked over to them, deciding to at least give them a few vague details. He didn't want to tell them too much yet as they weren't sure if Kwan was working alone or not.
"There was a problem at the rising, we got a different demon than expected. It was taken care of but…" Angel answered, "We lost slayers."
A collective grief washed over them; Angel could tell it was sincere.
"What about Theodore and Kwan?" A chubby woman asked after a few moments of silence, big blue eyes wide, expecting the worst.
"Kwan's dead, Theodore is close to it." The living vampire answered, watching their faces for anyone not surprised.
Silence ruled again before a scrawny guy asked, "No disrespect, but why was we locked up?"
"Dumb-ass, they suspect we set em up." A dark-skinned girl in the back answered, "Am I right?"
Angel thought over what to say before he answered, "There are those among us that think Watchers returning to the mix is a benefit, and there are others thinking it could be an elaborate trap."
"I told Theo we shouldn't come as a group, that we're be perceived as a threat." Someone Angel couldn't see mumbled from the back of the middle cell.
"Please. Don't let us stay cramped in here all night." A woman near the bars asked, looking uncomfortable from where she was sitting on the floor.
He knew if he let them out, Buffy would knock him out, but he also knew even prisoners had basic rights. Food, water, a place to lay down.
"I'll see what I can do. Until then…" He smirked, "Keep tight."
…
Angel left the holding cells behind and wandered back into the Med-Ward, his mind churning at how to get the Watchers out of the cells while not enraging his wife by actually freeing them.
Stopping outside the two isolation rooms, Angel ran his eyes over the spaces, pondering.
They weren't the most comfortable rooms, he would never forget being locked in them several times so far, the most recent when he's been infected with the chicken pox virus. However, as useful as they were for medical purposes, he figured they would be just as suitable as jail cells.
Entering Isolation 1, he moved the cot around a few ways, judging size before walking out into the main ward and grabbing two more cots, manipulating the three into the small room. Deciding comfort wasn't on the menu anyways, he grabbed a fourth cot and stuffed that in too, leaving just enough space to squeeze between the beds and access the cabinet that housed the sink and toilet. Like in the prison cells, the 'bathroom' was minimal at best, but at least there was a curtain to pull closed for privacy.
Deciding it would have to work, he wheeled three more cots into Isolation room 2, briefly thinking of the several times he and Buffy had made love in there while he slid the beds around for optimal spacing.
Satisfied, he headed out and down the hall to the elevator, next stop was the café.
…
About two hours has passed before the Watchers saw Angel again, all of them getting frustrated with the uncomfortable accommodations.
When one asked his how long they would be waiting, Angel vaguely replied for them to choose 8 people.
"Chose for what?" A woman asked, sounding more than a little scared.
"I'll be back in 5 minutes, have the names by then." He said while walking away.
"Wait! Why?" One of the men called out, but Angel had already left.
"What are they going to do to those 8?" Abby asked, a mousy young woman with wide brown eyes and dirty blond hair.
Worried and frustrated, they began to argue about who would be picked.
Finally, one decided to draw straws.
Of course, no one had straws.
"Here, this will have to work." Danny, one of three Americans in the group, pulled a few sheets of toilet paper off the roll he was sitting by and shaped 19 'sticks', making 8 shorter than the rest.
He rolled them around to mix them up and held out his fist, offering them to each of his cell mates before holding his hand out to the group in the cell on the left then the one on the right of his middle cell.
The 'chosen' shook with fear, unknowing what would happen and why they were being singled out.
When Angel returned a short time later, he was greeted by a nearly frantic cry from them all as to what was going to happen to the 8.
"Nothing, they are just being moved to another holding area." The living demon answered, opening the first cell and ushering the two picked, then moving to the middle and last cells and removing those three each.
Feeling relieved, they followed Angel, keeping wary eyes on the slayer guards that kept watch over the procession.
None of the watchers spoke as Angel led them into the Med-Ward, but questioned him again as he gestured four each into the two small isolation rooms.
"Listen, I know it's crowded here too, but it's better than what you had, isn't it?" He pointed out.
"True." Abby, one of the chosen, replied as she claimed the bed along the back wall, farthest from the door. "We might be the lucky ones; we each get our own bed."
The others agreed, but before they could ask Angel anything else, he closed the locked the doors.
Once the doors were secure, Angel peered into the OR, checking on Theodore and Becky.
They were both asleep, he in his medical bed and her slumped in the chair beside it.
If the room hadn't been occupied, he might have contemplated using it for a makeshift cell too, but unfortunately there wasn't a lock on the door.
'Nah, Cass will be pissed enough I stole two of her rooms already…' He thought, then inhaled, 'speaking of the devil…'
Cassidy pushed open the Med-Ward doors and immediately turned to Angel, "What the heck are you doing to my Med-Ward?"
She sounded annoyed, which she was. She'd woken from her nap to see the activity sensors in the isolation rooms blinking on the computer in her office. Switching the cameras on, she found herself looking at a bunch of squatters in her isolation rooms.
"Sorry, but I had to improvise, there were too many in the containment cells, still is actually, I could use another place to house prisoners." He admitted, at least feeling slightly bad he hadn't asked permission prior to invading her Med-Ward.
When she pointed that out to him, he countered with a shrug, "You were napping, besides, it is my building."
Scowling at him, she shook her head, "Fine, play the boss card... but don't forget who has been keeping your head attached when you go sticking your neck out."
He snored, "You aren't getting another raise, you've already squeezed me for a 5% budget increase last month."
"Yeah, well 5% of nothing is still nothing." She teased back, finding it odd to be having a conversation with her boss that wasn't centered around someone, like him, being injured.
The Irishman glanced at the clock on the wall, "Fine, sorry I stuffed a bunch of Watchers into your Iso rooms, but I didn't have many options and I still need to figure out how to get additional beds into the containment cells."
Cassidy cocked her head to the side, "I have a few camping style cots, they are a lot less bulky than the medical cots."
That caught Angel's interest, "Really? Let's see em."
…
It turned out that Cassidy had a good twenty of those camp cots in storage, so Angel played musical chairs with the Watchers and the beds. Since the camp cots were narrower than the medical cots, he managed to squeeze 5 per isolation room with slightly more free space than the 4 medical beds had. And one just fit in each of the containment cells, which now housed a tight but far roomier than before 3 watchers per.
Despite the tight quarters, the Watchers were far happier now than before, when they hadn't room to move, now they all at least had their own bed.
Next came phase two of Angel's prisoner project, at 6pm, a slayer wheeled down a food cart stacked with boxes.
He thanked the girl for the large delivery on such short notice and pushed it to the containment cells, handing three boxes into each cell, giving each Watcher a box.
Curious, they opened them to find an assorted sandwich, water bottle, piece of fruit and a snack item.
"Well, least we can say these fellows aren't barbarians." One commented as he pulled a turkey and cheese on wheat out of the box, eager for a bite after being caged for nearly 8 hours by then.
After the first batch of meals were distributed, Angel carted the remaining to the Isolation rooms, doing his best to show sympathy to their plight when some asked when they would be freed.
"Not my call, but I'll see what's being decided." He answered as best he could, knowing the Slayers were discussing how to handle this situation.
Once he'd finished setting up the prisoner's basic needs, he headed back upstairs to lurk in the conference room, curious to know how his wife, Giles and the other senior Slayer members were fairing in their discussions on how to handle the Watchers.
When he found the conference room empty, he checked his wife's office before heading back to his own.
Figuring she was busy, he was intending to catch up on some paperwork, but instead found his spouse sitting at his desk.
On a typical day, finding his wife sitting on his desk would be an alluring prospect for potential sexy-time between classes or to make-up for lack of intimate relations that would have happened had they not had a house full of kids.
Today she was sitting with her legs crossed one over the other, which left a decent amount well-toned thigh showing in her skin-tight black leggings. The tall leather boots on her feet were bouncing up and down in slow, steady rhythm which reminded him of something else that bounced when she did in his lap. However, instead of leaning back invitingly with a sly smile, she was crossing her arms over her ample chest and scowling.
'Nope, not here for sex.' He thought tiredly, trying to prepare for a verbal thrashing instead.
"Where have you been?" What the first thing she said as he came into the room, and that tone was less than welcoming.
In fact, it might have made lesser men shrivel up into goo.
"Around." He responded, feeling defensive of her hard stare and sending her one right back.
"Doing what?" She demanded, sliding off the desk and moving closer, her arms re-crossing over her chest as she came to stand before him.
The fact he towered over her seemed to not mater in her reality, her stance was predatory.
"Why?" He countered, standing tall and looking down at her, not understanding where the hostility was coming from.
He knew she was upset, but this was overkill, even for the longest living slayer.
She looked about ready to whack him, instead she shook her blond head and turned away, "The guards say there are only 9 people in the containment cells now…." Turning to face him, she ordered, "Where are the other 10?"
His dark eyes watched her tense face, anger flashing in her hazel-green eyes. The blaze hot enough to scorch.
Slowly, he answered, "Locked in the Isolation rooms in the Med-Ward"
That threw some form of wrench into her gears. Blinking at him, she shook her head, "What, why?"
Signing out a deep breath to try and deactivate the building frustration and defense, he unwrapped his arms from where they'd been folded in front of his chest and paced a few steps while he spoke, "Because Buffy, there wasn't room in the containment cells for 19 people. Even prisoners have basic rights. As far as I can tell, those kids are innocent of any wrong doing and I wasn't going to sit idle while they were virtually tortured in those cages. Be mad at me if you want, but I got them all a bed and food for the night."
"We don't know they are innocent." She snapped, feeling annoyed at her husband for getting involved in something that wasn't really his business… granted he was famous for doing just that.
"We don't know they're not, and this is America, where the law proclaims innocent until proven guilty." He countered, all but waving a banner in her face to open her eye and see the obvious; demons didn't have legal rights, but they couldn't legally keep human's imprisoned against their will.
"Says the former scourge of Europe." Buffy scoffed, not holding back as she fired at him, "What got you so interested in morals and human rights anyways? You used to kill people for the fun of it."
Angel stiffened as the words hit him right in the heart, his eyes narrowing as his demon stirred, "That was low."
Buffy looked him square in the face, eyes beginning to water, "Getting my slayers killed was low too, but that didn't stop Kwan and Theodore." Her tone was sharp, but it was spoken flat and steady.
Angel shook his head to clear the bite of anger gnawing on his common sense, fighting to keep his fury under control as he ground out though clenched teeth. "Far as we know, Theodore didn't know what Kwan was planning, none of them seem to."
The slayer's stance turned less offensive and more defensive, "And yet the same day Watcher's come back on set, we get slayer deaths!"
The living demon shook his head, his muscles beginning to ache from keeping his fists un-clenched, "Right, because it's always the watcher's fault, we never had a slayer go psycho and kill anyone…oh wait, we did!" He wasn't quiet yelling, but his voice was certainly not going to be drowned out by the sound of the hostility between them.
"Marcy doesn't represent all the slayers! She was just a sick girl!" Buffy screamed out, then seemed to consider what she'd said as the rage quickly blew itself out of her sails.
Sensing she was regaining control of her emotions, Angel relaxed his stance, with some…okay, a lot of …effort, "Same goes for Kwan."
After a long unpleasant moment of tense stare-down, Buffy's shoulders dropped, her resolve wavering. In a quiet voice she whispered, "I don't want to lose anymore girls."
Angel could feel her pain, not the sort of sensation he could explain, just the deep rooted need to hold her as his soul ached for her.
Closing the distance between them, he wrapped his arms around his wife and pulling her close, breathing deeply of her scent as he replied, "None of us do."
They stayed like that a little while, letting go of the anger and letting out the grief that had really fueled them, shedding tears for more lost slayers.
When Buffy pulled away, she ripped a tissue out of the box on the end table by the couch and blew her nose. After tossing the damp Kleenex into the small trash barrel by the desk, she blinked water from her eyes as she glanced up at her husband. "I'm sorry, for what I said."
Shaking his head, he took her hand and gave it a tight squeeze, "You've said worse, I've done worse...I'm over it, let's move on."
A sad smile pulled at her lips, remembering some of their worse fights and relieved they could now have hot burning spats without physical violence or emotional damage.
Switching back to the original conversation, she asked, "So what do we do with the watchers? Just show them the door?"
Angel shrugged, "Well we can't really keep them imprisoned here legally. I mean we could be charged with kidnapping, not to mention most are foreign, so it'd turn into an international incident."
Buffy cringed, "I'm guessing we'd pretty quickly lose out private investigator license…not to mention our ability to be legal guardians for the under 18's."
"Most certainly." Angel agreed, "And we do regularly have LAPD in our offices..."
"Fine, we let them go." After a beat, Buffy added, "First thing in the morning."
Knowing this was the best he was going to get from her, Angel nodded.
…
Buffy and the kids were asleep, but Angel found himself unable to rest.
Despite the talk in the office, there was still tension between him and his wife, he was certain that wasn't helping his general unease.
For a while, he puttered around the house, putting away the odd toy, folding laundry, emptying the dish rack, and nabbing a few of the dust bunnies that were out of his short wife's reach.
He wasn't sure what exactly was making him restless, but whatever it was, at least it helped tidy-up.
Always useful when you have three kids under the age of 6.
Angel had just huffed down on the couch when his cell vibrated in his pants.
Pulling the small devise out of his dark blue cotton pajama bottom pocket, "Angel. What's wrong?" He answered. He'd had a feeling something was up, and a phone call in the dead of night certainly added to his unease.
Cassidy's falsely cheerful voice answered back with a note of sarcasm, "What is it with everyone thinking a call from the Med-Ward in the middle of the night is 'something wrong'."
Angel groaned, because he really needed a smart-ass remark right now, "Cass, why are you calling me?"
"I'm more interested in why you were awake?" The medic retorted, "I know you were because you answered on the first ring and your voice isn't coated in a layer of sleep."
"Soul or not, I could still eat you." He remarked with a growl.
The redhead smiled to herself, for some reason getting a happy from being able to irritate her boss. It was fun teasing him when he wasn't broken. "You told me you wanted to know if it happened, and it did. He's awake."
It took a moment to figure out what she was talking about, then it hit him, "Theo woke up?"
"He's in rough shape, but is coherent." He heard some papers ruffling and a quiet voice in the background, "But I'd come quick if I were you, he might not stay conscious for long."
Angel really wanted to hear what Theodore had to say about what Kwan had been up to, so he was already half way to the portal in the garage as he told Cass he'd be right there.
Less than 30 seconds later, Angel was leaning over the pale young man, Cass having kicked Becky out earlier to eat and rest.
"Hey Theodore."
The Englishman looked up, his eyes heavily lidded but focused, "A-Angel? Where's Kw-an? Is she…"
"Dead." Angel supplied, watching carefully for the reaction.
The pale man nodded, looking relieved, "Thank God."
Angel swallow, "But not before we lost three slayers."
Theo's eyes closed as he exhaled what could have been a sob, "Three..."
After a long heavy silence, the injured Englishman asked, "How?"
Angel recounted a brief summery of the events that happened at the Hellmouth while Theo was unconscious.
"Lord Yuma?" Shaking his head, Theo muttered, "I almost feel bad for her, being that delusional." As a well read scholar, he could say with firm confidence that just about no known deals between mortals and godly beings ended in the mortal's favor, and none he knew of ever tried via Yuma.
Silence fell between the two for a short while, then Theo asked quietly, "My associates?"
"Alive, but under lock and key." Angel answered, adding after a moment for clarification, "We weren't sure who could be trusted after Kwan's stunt."
Theodore's gaze lost focus, his eyes full of unshed tears. It was all building up inside him; being deceived, losing precious slayers, losing the credibility they had fought for, losing the dream of being Watchers... "I'm...I...I don't know what to say..." The Englishman fell quiet a moment, his voice barely above a whisper, "We just wanted...to be watchers...to do something good...to help...and three slayers died as a result of our ignorance."
The Irishman winced, seeing the raw grief and self flagellation in the younger man's eyes, sensing the emotional pain that was radiating off him in waves. Angel now feeling that perhaps he should have waited until the boy healed more before dumping these weights on him. "You couldn't have known her full intentions." He reasoned, understanding that evil didn't always wear a black hat, it could camouflage itself well behind sincerity and truth.
Theo shook his head, "We should have."
Knowing this conversation direction would lead no where pleasant, Angel asked, "Did she give any indications towards the end as to what she wanted from Yama?"
Confused grey eyes blinked at him a moment, then came a mumbled reply, "No...I don't...wait. I remember her chanting… I questioned her…" He paused, his eyes squeezing shut as a ripple of pain washed over him, the memory of her slamming the blade into his gut. Exhaustion pulled at him, but the young watcher shook his head to clear it of the fog that was trying to descend. "She… she called us fools. Claimed we should use our resources to help the demons…she was seeking...immortality."
Angel nodded, he'd known the type, power hungry maniacs.
Heck, he'd been one. Not many people can claim they tried to suck the whole world into hell.
"We're such fools." The young man whispered, his gaze growing unfocused, words slurring as he was losing the battle for consciousness. "We led her right here..."
The living demon started to respond, to insist upon the injured man they couldn't have known Kwan's selfish intentions, but the young watcher was already out.
"Poor kid." Cassidy muttered from beside Angel, her grey eyes shimmering with emotion.
The dark-haired man nodded, understanding.
Theodore had worked so hard to turn around the image of the Watcher's Council, to show the new slayers they were different, that they were good, honest people who only wanted to help.
Then Kwan backstabbed him, quite literally, and tarnished the new council's reputation before it had even begun.
…
Angel shrugged off his shirt and slid under the covers. Beside him, his wife rolled over to face him, asking sleepily, "Where'd you go?"
"Med-ward."
At her startled look, he explained about not being able to sleep and Cass's call. After telling her what Theo said about Kwan's motives, she rolled back over and pulled the covers tight, mumbling, "Still doesn't prove she was working alone or that none of the others are power hungry psychos."
The living demon sighed, knowing this wasn't a battle he could win against his wife, he muttered into his pillow "No, it doesn't, but I guess that's the lousy thing about people and free will."
Buffy frowned, not bothering to try and look over at him in the dark, "Stop talking before I tell you to go sleep on the couch."
He didn't reply.
…TBC...