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How to Treat Your
Lover
by Tami
Chapter 18
Chapter 18-A: Step 2 – Understanding (Part 1)
Los Angeles, Madam Dorion’s
Since the AI offices and his home had been blown up, Angel and Spike were rooming with Cordelia, sleeping on the sofa bed. It had been the longest summer of Spike’s life. The seer put her foot down on their coupling after the first week. Even Denis was complaining about the haunting noises that were coming from them, and he was the ghost!
So, with the moratorium put on certain activities in the apartment, the two vampires had to find other places to be together. It was Angel’s bright idea to approach Madam Dorion with their dilemma. At first, the woman refused because her establishment did not cater to vampires. Angel had growled and told her they wouldn’t need her girls’ services, just a room.
Spike was now hanging from the ceiling by some contraption already in place for the use by one of the girls. It was a combination between the Rack and a washboard with handcuffs and shackles. Angel didn’t want to dwell on how it was used in a demon brothel. For now, it would serve its purpose for Spike’s punishment.
“What exactly did spend my money on, Spike?” asked Angel, belt in hand.
“Oh, you know, this, that and the other,” Spike answered.
The blonde winced when he felt the belt across his bare ass.
“Again, I ask: What did you spend my money on?” Angel ground out.
“I refurnished the house and fixed the atrium doors, you git. You should be thanking me, not whipping me!” Spike shot back.
“Fine, then consider this a ‘thank you’ for gifting me with a $42,000.00 bill on my credit card. What has daddy told you about borrowing things without permission?” Angel cooed.
“Oi! Not the daddy bit again. I let it slip once, and he never lets me forget it,” Spike mumbled to himself.
“Was that an apology, Spike?” Angel asked.
“No!” Spike said mockingly.
“Shall we run down the list of items then?” Angel asked as he flexed his arm.
Spike closed his eyes. He knew he was in for it. Really, he was doing his Sire a favor by buying all that stuff. He should be thanked for making the mansion livable again, with real furniture this time and not some overblown stone statue as the focal point. Spike heard rustling behind him as Angel pulled out the sheaf of paper.
1. “A Hibachi coffee table, 12 lashes;
2. Display cabinet, 12 lashes;
3. Tall curio shelf, 97 lashes;
4. Wicker TV console, 16 lashes;
5. Miyamoto entertainment center, 65 lashes;
6. Wheel Tansu end tables, 62 lashes;
7. Yohida cabinet, 29 lashes;
8. Dana tea chest, 72 lashes;
9. 4-foot kitchen island, 6-foot kitchen counter, 5-foot kitchen cupboards, 5-foot Mizuya pantry, bean chest, especially when we don’t have to eat, 148 lashes;
10. 6-drawer chest, 14 lashes;
11. Dongbei buffet, 17 lashes;
12. Pulaski poster bed, 53 lashes;
13. Baroness 2-light sconces, 48 lashes;
14. Aquatic Century Series 31 Oval Whirlpool Tub, which Cordelia is just dying to experience, 46 lashes;
15. Rainforest Corner Shower, 71 lashes;
16. Ultra French In-swing Patio Doors, 25 lashes;
17. Velvet drapes, 69 lashes;
18. Tapestry curtains, 21 lashes;
19. Area rugs, 17 lashes;
20. Hall Runner rugs, 17 lashes;
21. Somersby dining room set, again, we don’t eat, 69 lashes;
22. Table lamps, and we’ll just make that an even 100 for anything I missed in calculations.”
Spike rolled his eyes at Angel’s flourish; ‘Always a drama queen’. “Look, Angel. You don’t have to go to all this trouble--”
*WHACK!*
“Ow! You soddin'--”
*WHACK!*
“Hey! Angel, you sadistic bas--”
*WHACK!”
“—just wait until I get out of these things!”
**************************
Some Time Later
Spike slowly opened his eyes to see the room from a perpendicular vantage point. He felt the soft bedding under him and the soothing tongue of his Sire licking his wounds. He groaned and tried to move, but Angel held him down to the bed. The blonde would have protested, but that required strength he didn’t have at the moment. He settled for turning his head to the other side of the pillow.
“Where are we?” Spike mumbled.
“We’re still in the brothel. How do you feel?” Angel asked softly.
“Like I’ve been slapped on the ass a thousand times with a wet towel,” the blonde replied.
“It was for your own good. I couldn’t let something that serious go. Your actions put me in a bind with my employees. There I was living the solitary life, when you come along, use my money and alert Cordy that I have it. Do you know what dealing with a pissed-off, formerly rich, ex-prom queen is like?”
“How was I supposed to know that you never told her you had it stashed away? Which brings to mind, did you ever tell Buffy you had money?” Spike inquired.
“Why would I tell her?”
“Oh, I don’t know, ’cause she’s the love of your life?”
“I didn’t tell her I was a vampire at first, so why would I tell her I was extremely well-off? It wouldn’t have made a difference. Besides, I bought the mansion, didn’t I?” Angel asked as he moved up to lie beside Spike.
“And everything in it, now,” Spike smirked. “Pet, buying a mansion in Sunnydale is like buying a used car. It’s dirt-cheap to live on a Hellmouth.”
“Remember that house we lived in on the Thames? That was a nice house,” Angel said nostalgically.
“Angel, it had gables and steeples. It was a grotesque sight,” Spike countered.
“Well, technically, it was a church,” Angel shrugged.
“I can’t even think of a word for how wrong that is,” Spike said.
“It seemed like fun at the time, what can I say, I was evil then.”
“Yeah, all that luxury and now you’re back to no home and we’re sleeping on Queen C’s couch,” Spike summed up. “Angel, we got to get a better domicile. I don’t want to be staying in that ghost-infested apartment the rest of my days.”
“We won’t be there much longer. Come on, we have to go back to the ghost-infested apartment in case Cordy has a vision,” Angel said as he stood up and threw Spike’s clothes at him.
“Okay, but I will be going back very slowly,” Spike said as he stumbled out of bed on shaky legs.
**************************
Los Angeles, Cordelia’s Apartment
It was slow going all right, Angel practically had to carry Spike to the car, and then when they got to Cordelia’s place, he had to literally carry Spike in. Once they were in the apartment, the blonde stumbled to the couch and fell heavily on it. Then, he lay back and propped his booted feet up on the arm of the couch. Angel untied his boots and took them off, letting them drop on the floor beside the couch.
“You know, pet, if we were in Sunnydale, we could make use of the new bed,” Spike said, wiggling his eyebrows at his Sire.
Angel’s lips turned up at the corner at that and silently waited for . . .
“I heard that!” Cordelia yelled from her bedroom.
“Does excellent hearing come with the vision gig, princess?” Spike asked louder.
“No, just thin walls and small open spaces,” Cordelia answered.
The phone rang then. Both vampires waited for the seer to come out and answer it. When she didn’t show by the third ring, Angel went over and picked up the receiver.
“Hello, Cordelia Chase residence.”
“Angel? Why are you there?” the voice on the other end asked in surprise.
“Riley Finn. Why are you calling my secretary?” Angel asked annoyed.
Spike chuckled at Angel’s use of the word secretary. His excellent hearing picked up the sound of the shower spray and tried to envision Cordelia standing nude under the water.
“Miss Chase’s number was in Willow’s phone book under Angel Investigations, but now that I have you on the phone. What can you tell me about Dracula?”
It took a moment for the question to seep into Angel’s mind because he was currently glimpsing Spike’s imaginary Cordelia nude in shower. They were both in there with her, touching her and each other when –
“Dracula?” Angel growled.
Spike scoffed from the couch and yelled loud enough for Riley to hear over the phone, “Poncy bugger owes me eleven pounds, for one thing!”
“You know him?” Riley asked, a bit awestruck.
“He’s the reason I have this curse in the first place,” Angel was still growling. “If it hadn’t been for him telling those damn gypsies that Darla took that girl and gave her to me --”
“But then he got famous, forgot all about his foes,” Spike broke in on a rant of his own.
“—I swore if I ever saw him again, I was going to rip his spine out through his mouth --”
“That glory hound's done more harm to vampires than any slayer,” Spike was still cutting in. “His story gets out, and suddenly everybody knows how to kill us. You know, the mirror bit?”
“Fuck the mirror; it’s his Houdini act that’s kept him alive this long!” Angel started talking to Spike instead of Riley.
Riley listened to the two vampires criticize Dracula for a few moment, then interjected, “But he's not just a regular vampire. I mean, he has special powers, right?”
“Nothing but showy gypsy stuff. He protected them so they showed him a few tricks. Why do you ask?” Angel turned back to the receiver.
“He’s here in Sunnydale, making his presence known,” Riley said.
“The old boy needed closure after all,” Spike said.
“He did not go to Sunnydale for you, bleached-brain,” Angel glared at his childe.
“Oi!” Spike took offense.
“Actually, he's gunning for Buffy,” Riley said. “But, I'm out to find him before he gets another shot at her.”
“Tough talk from a guy I beat up a few months ago. You’re not going to find him in a Sunnydale-vampire’s usual haunts. He’s not going to be at Willy’s or napping in a crypt. No, the sanctimonious bastard has to have his luxury estate and his bug-eaters and his special dirt,” Angel said snidely.
“So you're saying I should check out mansions, that sort of thing?” Riley inquired.
“No. You’re going to go to Buffy, hide under her skirts.” Angel pondered Buffy in a skirt. “Does she still wear those little skirts?” He shook his head and went on, “Wait until Spike and I get up there and deal with him. You’re out of your depth on this one, boy.”
“Look, you may have dated Buffy, and Spike may have helped her a time or two, so she has a problem with killing you. But, I don’t and if you step foot in this town again, I will stake you,” Riley threatened.
“You had your chance to kill me in that alley and I kicked your ass all over the place, remember? Don’t think you are going to stake me anytime soon. I warned you about going after Spike.” Adding his own threat, “If you want to know what Angelus is really like first-hand then you just try and stake me and see what happens.”
Spike lay on the couch and preened under his Sire’s possessive tone. Yep, that was his Sire, the biggest and baddest of all vampires. He got hard from just the thought of Angel’s dominant streak and reached down to rub the evidence through his jeans.
Do you know what I’m going to do to you when we finally get some privacy? Angel’s voice slipped into his mind.
Mmm, I can just imagine. Will those handcuffs from Madam Dorion’s be involved? Spike teased.
Angel gave a lusty growl.
“Well, I got to do something,” Riley was saying on the phone.
Angel turned his attention back to receiver. “You're never going to find him at least not before he gets to her,” Angel told him.
“A lot of help you are!” Riley said before he hung up.
Angel hung up the phone and turned back to Spike. “If you weren’t still healing from the last whipping I gave you, I would turn you over my knee right now and blister your ass to a nice dark red for teasing me with images like that!” he chastised.
Spike just smiled as if to say, ‘you can try’. Before Angel could make good on punishing Spike again, Cordelia came out of the bedroom fully dressed and towel drying her hair. Spike leered suggestively at her while Angel eyed her up and down.
“Who was on the phone?”
“No one important,” Angel said off-handedly.
Cordy held up a finger and scrunched up her face. Angel dropped the figurine he was fiddling with and hurried to catch her, “Vision!”
Cordelia sneezed as he huddled around her like a mother hen, “Just a sneeze.”
“Oh,” Spike and Angel replied sadly.
“Oh?!” Cordelia repeated annoyed.
Angel backtracked. “I mean, bless you. He picked the broken figurine up off the floor. “I’m sorry about this.”
Cordelia gave him an exasperated look. “Why can't we work out of Wes's?”
Angel had seen Wes’s apartment. It was smaller than Cordelia’s. There was no way they were going to cram all four of them in there. “We're getting a new office. I just haven't . . .”
Cordy held up a finger and scrunched up her face again. “Sneeze,” she alerted before it came out. Then her body was racked forward. “Followed by vision.”
Spike ignored his injuries and jumped off the couch, rushing over with slightly diminished vampire speed and caught her as she was jolted toward him. He pulled her back to the couch and Angel grabbed a marker from the dry-erase board. After the vision of a blurry gray monster face hazed through her mind, she looked up.
“Are you alright, pet?” Spike asked.
“I’ll survive,” Cordelia replied.
“So, what was it?” Angel asked.
“A nasty looking demon didn’t recognize it,” Cordelia reported.
Angel made a note of it on the board. “Well, that narrows it down. I'm sure he'll feel right at home here.”
Spike looked around. “Where’s Percy when you need him?”
“I sent him out for coffee and croissants,” Cordelia replied.
“Fine time to be doing that now isn’t it? We need research done,” Spike commented.
**************************
Los Angeles, Wolfram & Hart
Lilah walked down the hall with her cell phone. “You have every right to review the contract. I encourage it. We’ll talk on Monday. Of course, if you don’t sign we’ll sue your ass and kill your children. Just kidding, Donald, no one wants a lawsuit.”
Lilah shut the cell phone off and walked into a dark room. Lindsey was standing by the stereo, trying in vain to open a CD jewel case with his prosthetic hand. Lilah took in the room. “Wow. It’s nice and gloomy in here.” Lindsey dropped the case and cursed in frustration. Lilah looked over at him with a smirk. “You’re not handicapped, you’re handi-capable.”
Lindsey ignored the dig on his condition and went about inserting the CD in the player. “She likes Chopin and Brahms. She’s not too fond of the Russians.”
When Lindsey turned to look past her, Lilah followed his line of sight to see a small blonde woman with her back to them, inspecting an old-fashioned globe. She stepped closer to the woman. “Hello, Darla. How are you doing today? Feeling any better? It’s a beautiful day outside.”
Lindsey gave Lilah an annoyed look and walked closer to Darla. “Lilah, shut up. She’s not a child. She’s 400 years old.”
As the music filled the room, Darla began to hum softly, “Hmm, the Prelude.”
“In C-minor, the Preludes and the Nocturnes,” Lindsey inhaled, pleased that she had spoken to him. She hadn’t said much in the last few days. He was starting to worry that the spell to bring her back had gone wrong somehow.
“So much better than the waltzes,” Darla continued to examine the globe as she slowly turned it with her fingertips.
It was still strange being back from nothing. She was human for 20 years, living the harsh life a prostitute in the Colonies. The profession was in progress of killing her slowly and painfully when she was changed, reborn in 1609 as a vampire. She was no longer haggard and weighted down by impending death by a dreaded disease of the era. She was bright and beautiful again and could wile her charms on unsuspecting victims. As an afterthought, she added, “He had consumption.”
“And died way too soon,” Lindsey agreed; “A lot of that going around.”
Darla took a deep breath and scented the insipid air in the office. She could feel him though. Her boy was in the city somewhere and so was Spike. She could feel the strong tie to Spike through Angel. But, she couldn’t feel Drusilla. However, she didn’t tell her companions that.
“Hmm, He’s here,” Darla said softly.
“Chopin?” Lilah asked, surprised.
Lindsey rolled his eyes at Lilah. “Angel. He’s here in town. You can feel him.”
“I always could,” Darla whispered.
“He hasn’t been much of a help to us,” Lindsey told her.
Darla was still lost in her own thoughts, vaguely listening to Lindsey. She turned and stared at nothing. She remembered Sunnydale. She remembered how she had tried to lure Angel back, only to have him kill her for the Slayer. She spent 150 years with him. They ran amuck through whole villages. She remembered their time in Venice, Vienna, Rome and Hungary. They toured the world together. She remembered when Drusilla and Spike joined them, how jealous she was over Angelus’ obsession with them. All that ended in Sunnydale when he staked her with an arrow. She was a vampire for 388 years and then nothing. She ceased to exist, she was just gone. There was no Heaven or Hell to speak of.
“He killed me.” Darla laughed hollowly. “I remember now, with a soul in his heart.”
Lindsey nodded in silent agreement. “He’s taken from both of us. So, when you’re ready, we’ll start thinking about giving a little back.”
“Angel,” she breathed. “It’s been a long time. I’d love to see that boy.”
**************************
Los Angeles, Cordelia’s Apartment
Spike was drinking blood from a glass as he sat on the couch reading a novel. Angel, Wes and Cordelia were in the dining area researching the demon from her vision. Angel was currently sketching the demon with her giving descriptions over his shoulder.
“The eyes are a little further apart.” Angel adjusted to her specifications. “They look right through you. I-I don’t think this guy is afraid of much.”
Angel glanced up at the former watcher and then went back to the sketch. “Wes, I’m thinking northern Pakistan, Hindu Kush . . .”
Or maybe the Tien Shenin in Kazakhstan. Which means I need Suleman’s Compendium,” Wes said as he walked toward a makeshift bookshelf on Cordelia’s counter. One of the books flew out and hit him, causing him to yell in surprise.
Spike snickered at him from the couch and Wesley turned to glare at the blonde vampire.
Cordelia glared at Wesley. “Don’t yell like that! You’ll scare him.”
“Scare him?” Wesley asked in disbelief.
Spike was now chuckling behind his novel. “Why do you think she banned me and Angel from shagging here?”
“Spike!” Angel warned.
“That’s something I did not need to know about your connection with Angel,” Wesley sighed.
Cordelia put her hands on her hips and looked between all three men. Had none of them any feelings for the poor ghost haunting her apartment. He was a sweet kid really and helped her out a lot around the house.
“Denis is very sensitive. He’s just trying to help! He’s more a person than a g-h-o-s-t,” she said defensively.
Wesley rolled his eyes and glanced at Angel. “We have to get an office.”
Spike remembered their conversation at Madam Dorion’s and laughed hysterically then. “I was telling him that earlier!”
“Spike, get a hold of yourself!” Angel admonished as he went back to the drawing.
“I’m sorry . . . well, on second thought, I’m not. It’s just – you and I had this discussion before.” Spike looked up at Wesley. “Don’t worry. The old Sire assured me we wouldn’t be here long.”
Wesley went back to his book and flipped through the pages when Cordelia let out a scream and let out another startled yell from Wesley, which in turn made Angel roll his eyes and look to see what was wrong now.
Cordelia flipped back through the pages and pointed out a picture. “There! There!”
Wesley read the description, “Prio Motu demon. It’s a killer.”
Angel stood up and took the book. “Ancient Ofga-beast; bred to maim and massacre.”
“Oh goody, a Pit Bull,” Cordelia said drolly.
“I like him already,” Spike commented as he turned a page.
Angel handed the book back to Wesley, went to dry-erase board and made a note of it. “Okay, now that we know what we’re dealing with . . . we need to find it. Right now, we got to narrow it down to somewhere.”
“Army barracks,” Spike suggested.
Wesley ignored him and said, “I may be able to help us in that regard. I’ve been broadening our contact base, reaching out to the under-life. I may have someone who can help.”
“Who?” Angel asked as he turned around.
“A parasite demon named Merl.”
“Maybe it's time we pay your stoolie a little visit. Make with the chin-music,” Cordelia said, raising her fist, “until he canaries.” Spike, Angel and Wesley stared at her. “I've been watching a little noir festival on Bravo.”
Spike shook his head at the strange behavior. Maybe something more happened when she inherited the visions from that Doyle bloke.
“There’s a place he hangs out, a safe haven for demons. I’ve been meaning to take you there. I think it may be of use to us, but . . .”
“But what?” Angel was curious.
“It’s a little outside the box,” Wesley said apologetically.
***************************
Los Angeles, Caritas
Wesley, Cordelia and Angel walked into Caritas, minus Spike. They left him back Cordelia’s ghost-infested apartment, reading, much to the displeasure of Spike. There was a demon singing a Pointer Sisters song on stage. There was a sign in the corner that read: No violence or weapons. Human and demon patrons were sitting at tables around the small platform.
“Your stool pigeon feels safe in a karaoke bar?” Cordelia asked skeptically.
“In this one he does. It’s a sanctuary,” Wesley replied.
A green demon in a white suit went up on stage and finished the song together with the lizard demon to the crowd’s applause.
“Well, move over Pointer Sisters! That was cooking! I'm about to lose control, and I think I like it. Well, I'm going have a word with Liz here. Don't go anywhere! Coming right up, Mordar the Bentback will be callin' the tune with a personal favorite of mine. Make him feel welcome!” the Host said.
A furry horned creature took the mic and started crooning, while the Host led Liz over to the side of the stage.
“Well, I can see someone is feeling pretty zippy. Liz, I know it's hatching time and you're looking forward to that. But, there is more to life than eating your young! Now let me tell you what I see in your aura . . .”
On the other side of the club, a greenish-gray, bald demon was sitting at a table having a drink. Wesley sat down next to him. “Hello, Merl.”
When Merl didn’t say anything, Cordelia sat across from him. “Cat got your tongue, Merl?”
“I don’t have a tongue,” Merl replied.
Cordelia looked sufficiently embarrassed. “Oh.”
Angel leaned on the table on the other side him. “And, uh, keep the bloodsucker away from me.”
“He can’t hurt you in here,” Wesley reminded him.
Merl shook his head. “I know his rep, okay? He eats his own kind and beats up on demons wherever he finds them.”
“Especially when they waste my time,” Angel said menacingly.
Wesley slid an envelope full of money across the table. “We’re looking for the Prio Motu.”
Merl inspects the amount backed away. “Woah, woah, woah! You’ve obviously never seen one up close. I mean Prios are stone-cold killers. They’ve got these teeth that’ll, um . . . you got to sweeten this – a whole lot, and keep my name . . .”
Wesley put another twenty dollars on top of the envelope and Merl accepted it. “This Prio you're looking for, he don't like it above ground. So he'll be traveling in one of those sub-tunnels of the Rodondo line.” When Angel turned to leave, Merl caught his arm. “Prios are nasty. Not some big mosquito like you that turns to dust whenever you stake it, best of luck though.” Angel turned to leave and almost ran into the Host.
The Host looked him over. “Love the coat. It's all about the coat. Welcome to Caritas. You know what that means?”
Angel looked annoyed that he was being kept from his mission. “It's Latin for mercy.”
The Host smiled in appreciation. “Smart and cute. How about gracing us with a number?”
“I don't sing,” Angel stated.
“Neither does Mordar the Bentback! That cat's a foghorn on two legs,” Lorne laughed as he indicated the furry demon on stage.
Cordelia turned to Wesley, “Who is this guy?”
Wesley leaned close to her and whispered, “He's, uh, anagogic.”
Misinterpreting what Wesley said, she eyed the demon and commented, “Really? He looks like he's eating enough.”
“He’s psychic. He's connected to the mystic. When you sing, you bare you soul. He sees into it,” Wesley explained.
Meanwhile the Host was still trying to talk Angel into singing, “This isn't about your pipes, bro. It's about your spirit. I can't read you unless you sing!”
“I don't sing,” Angel stressed.
Cordelia smiled teasingly, “Come on, Angel. I want to hear you sing.”
“No.” Angel said with finality.
“It would be for a good cause. We might learn something,” Wesley pointed out.
Angel turned on his colleagues. “Who's the boss here?”
The Host hated the idea of fighting in his establishment and tried to placate the situation. “I know you're feeling smooth, in the groove. Isn't that the thing that comes before a fall?”
Wesley, Cordelia and the Host all looked at Angel expectantly. “There are three things I don't do: Tan, date, and sing in public!” With that, he walked out to resume his mission.
“See you around,” the Host called after him. He turned to Cordelia and Wesley, “How fabulous would I look in that coat?”
**************************
Los Angeles, Cordelia’s Apartment
The AI had left him alone in this ghost-infested apartment. He had read a bit more, but got bored. Spike stood up and looked around Cordelia’s apartment, examining things here and there. When he finally got to her bedroom, he went through her closet and drawers. He smirked when he found her underwear drawer and pulled out lace thongs and satin panty sets. That was when Denis ripped the flimsy underwear out of Spike’s hand, stuffed it back in the drawer and nearly shut it on Spike’s fingers.
“Momma’s boy,” Spike grumbled as he went back into the living room and his book.
**************************
Los Angeles
Angel was walking through a line of tunnels that Merl had talked about when he heard a noise and moved against the corner to an intersecting tunnel. A pregnant woman hurried down the tunnel, holding one hand over her belly. Angel stepped out, and she gasped in shock.
“Hey. It's okay. I won't hurt you. Are you alright?” Angel asked softly.
She just looked up at him. The Prio in Cordelia’s vision came charging around a corner with a growl, and Angel pushed the woman aside. “Look out!”
The woman watched from the sidelines as Angel fought the demon and killed it by breaking its neck. Angel turned to the woman and walked toward her. “It's all right. He's dead.”
The woman ran over to the dead demon and sat down next to him. “What did you do? Oh my God!” she cried as she stroked the demon’s face lovingly. “What have you done?” She closed the demon’s eyes and sobbed quietly.
“I didn't . . . I thought he was going to hurt you!” Angel said in weak defense.
She turned and glared him. “He was my protector!” When she moved to stand up Angel tried to help her, but she backed away from him. “Stay away from me!”
“I’m sorry. I was sent here to . . . I’m not exactly sure, but . . .” Angel started to explain.
“You were sent here?” the woman asked in disbelief.
Angel nodded. “By the Powers That – it’s a long story, I help people.”
The woman gave a bitter laugh. “You're joking, right?” She walked off, holding her pregnant belly, sobbing, “God, I hate this town!”
Not one to give up easily, Angel followed her. “I'm really . . . What was he protecting you from?”
The woman turned and glared him. “Things you couldn't handle!”
“Like what?” Angel tried to understand why a Prio Motu would help a pregnant woman.
“Like the Tribunal. Look, I don't know who you are or what your deal is, and I don't care! He was my protector. I had one friend in this world and you killed him! Now, you stay the hell away from me,” she warned.
All Angel could do was stand there and watch her leave. He turned the opposite direction and walked home. Along the way, he slipped into Spike’s mind for . . . something. Lately, Spike had been more amenable to giving comfort through the link than physically. Not knowing what else he could have done to avert the attack by the Prio, to learn what was going on and then causing his death when he was supposed to be a champion was just one more thing for Angel to brood over. He had slipped into Spike’s mind for some kind of solace. He envied his childe for, so far, having a calm demeanor inside his mind. It was peaceful there, unlike the angst and guilt that resided inside Angel’s head. When he slipped in, Spike didn’t object or close him out.
**************************
Los Angeles, Cordelia’s Apartment
Angel sat beside Spike on the couch in total brood mode. Flashes of how he had killed the Prio Motu and the woman’s face swam around his mind. Spike had his arm behind Angel on the back of the couch, softly running his fingers through Angel’s hair in small movements so that Cordelia and Wesley couldn’t tell what was going on. As far as they knew, Spike was sitting there in an arrogant display.
“He was good?” Wesley asked Angel.
Angel nodded slowly. “Yeah.”
“And you--” Cordelia demonstrated slitting her throat and made a cracking sound.
Angel looked up at her with sad eyes. “Yeah.”
“Ooh. Well. That's bad,” When Angel looked away in shame she hurried to correct herself. “Which of course you already . . . Right.”
Angel stood up and started pacing, running his fingers through his hair. “He was a demon. I just assumed . . .”
“Well, why wouldn’t you? Cordelia said he was a nasty demon,” Wesley said empathetically.
Cordelia turned on Wesley and said in her defense, “Well, he looked nasty! I didn't say he was a killer, you did!”
Wesley justified himself by saying, “That's what Prio Motus are! They hunt. They kill. What, we're supposed to think a creature like that can suddenly change its modus operandi overnight? Turn into some noble protector and . . .” He look at Angel who was leaning his hands against the fireplace mantle with his back to them. “. . . defender of . . . Oh, God.”
Spike watched his Sire through all this. He wasn’t paying attention to the discussion, instead choosing to watch the guilt play across Angel’s face. Nearly this time last year he would have mocked Angel for being so sentimental over his brooding nature. But, since the claims were in place he could slip into his mind and not only see what he brooded over but feel it as well.
He had felt Angel slip into his mind earlier when he was on his way home. Spike didn’t object though, he felt the emotions pour in when Angel opened the link again. When that had happened, he asked Cordelia if he could borrow her bedroom and disappeared into the room to console Angel in private.
It wasn’t that he had killed a demon that bothered Angel; it was that he had ended the mission of a champion like himself. They hadn’t discussed the Shanshu much this past summer, but Spike knew Angel was trying to at least find some sort of redemption. However, as a soulless demon, Spike couldn’t fathom fighting for one’s salvation; the humanity left in him commended Angel for how the dark vampire went about it.
“I didn't feel any fear when I saw him,” Cordelia was saying. “Angel was probably supposed to help him not . . .” She sighed and looked heavenward, “Thanks for the obscure visions! We're doing great with that.”
Angel shook his head. “I killed an innocent being. He was a soldier like me. Whatever his mission was, it's mine now.” He grabbed his coat and went to stand in front of Spike.
“Well, that's a start!” Cordelia said as she tracked him around the room by sight. “You said he was protecting a pregnant woman?”
“From something called the Tribunal. I want you three to find out what that is,” Angel said. He turned back to Spike, leaned down and kissed him, “Thank you . . . for being here.”
Cordelia and Wesley looked away from the private moment between the vampires, busying themselves with gathering research books.
Wesley cleared his throat. “We will.”
Angel went to the door. He had just put his hand on it when Wesley’s voice stopped him. The dark vampire stood still but didn’t turn around. “You didn’t know.” Angel glanced over his shoulder and said, “I'm thinking somebody did.” Then he walked out. |
