PART 1

--

Hungry Eyes

Chapter Seven
--

It took a full five minutes after he parked the car to muster the courage to step out of it.

The vampire with a soul took a long, loose breath, leaning his head back against the leather covered headrest, mind and soul whirling with the implications of tonight.

Tonight was a job, and that was it.

They were professionals, and that was it.

He would get through it, because Cordelia trusted him.

Opening the door of the convertible, he stepped out, handing the keys to the valet with some hesitation, noting the way the valet’s eyes lit up at the sight of the old car.

The young man got in, revved up the engine, and Angel tried not to cringe as he heard the tires screeching on the gravel.

Left alone to look up at the dark mansion, Angel began to move, working his way up the long drive, through the metal gate and around the darkened cobblestone steps.

Every dead nerve seemed alive, hesitation and fear mingled within him, bowtie dangling in his hand, moving around the side of the house.

Brian was waiting, eyes narrowed, as he crossed his arms, and then jerked his head toward the open door.

“Get in. Rebecca wants to see you.”

Once again, Angel was implicitly reminded he was no mortal, as the low growl of the demon rose within him, and the prickles of anger slid through him. Vestiges of the demon urged him to turn, clench one strong hand around the neck of the young bouncer and simply twist, ending the annoyance, allowing one burst of pleasure at seeing the look on the young man’s face before the neck splintered.

He clenched his fists, kept his eyes on the door, and forced down the anger, shuddering throughout his body prevalent as he wrenched open the door, slamming it shut behind him.

Servants in white jackets and bow ties hustled around him, shouting out in English, and sometimes in Spanish, moving around him and through the doors into the kitchen, where odors of food that seemed gourmet by nature wafted through the billows of smoke emerging from under the door.

To his right, dressed in a long black evening gown, a new, freshly picked red rose pinned to her lapel, stood Rebecca Hull, eyes looking distracted, a tight frown on her face as she spoke to one of the servants.

Her eyes caught his entrance, and with a harried wave, she motioned him over, moving into a small office in the side of the corridor.

“You’re late,” she snapped as soon as he came in, moving toward the desk and rifling through some paperwork, fumbling with the cigarette in her hand until he took the lighter from her.

She gave him a cold look as he held the lighter under her nose, but leaned forward, puffing in until the stick began to burn, taking in the nicotine and sighing from relief.

“Sorry. I got held up.”

Finally able to breathe, she straightened, shaking out her hair and looking back down to her paperwork.

“Don’t let it happen again.” She shook her head, craning her neck before settling into the plush leather, hand absently stroking at the black under her arm. “You know you’re on a very thin cord here, right Angel?”

He cocked his head, unsure.

“Making out with what’s-her-name in the alley, stealing a video from my office-“ He stiffened, but she only took another drag of the cigarette, knuckles rapping against the armrest nervously. “and now you’re late. You make a damn poor floor boy.”

“I’m sorry.”

His eyes began to shift to the exit, uncertain now, hands clenching into fists-

“Did you look at the video?”

The direct question caught him off-guard. The vampire gave her a wary look, but she only coolly gazed back.

Playing her game, he tossed back, “Yeah. Interesting.”

She was quiet, before reaching forward and rifling through a file. “You took the August 28th Party video, right? Yeah, that was a good one.” She took another drag, studying him with her startlingly clear eyes. “You would have had to see it anyway. Whether you still have a job tomorrow will depend on how you do tonight. So, I hope you studied it well.”

With that she rose.

“Take off the shirt, put on the bow-tie and go to Maurice to get oiled down. Tonight is just like the club, but this time, the ladies get to touch.”

Stunned, Angel turned, watching her go with a frozen body.

She paused in the doorway, and suddenly gave a shrug. “Let’s hope you’re as good under the covers as you were in that alley.”

The door closed behind her, and Angel was left alone, closing his eyes, pushing out an angry breath, and wondering how on earth he was going to get through this hell of a night.

--

Wesley had been worried, Fred had been mildly excited, and Gunn had been agitated.

Cordelia had pasted on her ‘it’s all right’ face, constantly reassuring them that she and Angel knew what they were doing, that this needed to happen, that it was a set-up, that real detectives did it all the time.

But she and Angel had never been so immersed in the case before. They still knew next to nothing, and Fred’s click and Wesley’s ‘eureka’, words and actions they had been hoping for, had still not happened.

In all honesty, this was the best, the only real lead they had that hadn’t led to a dead end.

Sucking in her breath, Cordelia pushed back the fogginess of the vision, the pain that still splintered inside her mind and reached hesitantly for the hand of the valet, grateful for his support as he pulled her out of the limousine, steadying her when she gripped his hand tighter than necessary.

“Careful.”

“Thanks,” she breathed out, taking the corsage that he held to her.

“The gravel is slippery.”

So is my head, she thought, biting her lip and straightening up.

She could do this.

She could.

Moving past the valet, she pondered the Power’s reason for pushing another mind crippling vision on her while she was on active duty. It wasn’t like SHE had a perfect happiness clause.

Of course, that might as well would have had to be the case.

Moving up, she was careful as she turned up the cobblestone, keeping the pain from surfacing on her face, trying to morph into the old Cordelia Chase, and the new Victoria Chase.

The throbbing she managed to subside to a dull ache, and as she stepped through the open door, handing her coat to the man who bowed in the marble awning, Cordelia felt herself catch her breath before she could stop it.

The hallway glittered of candlelight and crystal.  Hazel eyes shone as she stepped into the house, licking her lips as she gazed at the priceless pieces set carefully on mantles, signed lobby cards of old movies framed and hung on the walls.

Laughter and low throated chuckles moved around her, floating in from the open doors on the right, and moving toward them, Cordelia paused when she heard her fake name being called.

“Victoria.”

Cordelia turned, a smile on her face to greet Rebecca Hull. The young pimp truly looked happy to see her as she jogged down the stairs as well as she was able in the sleek gown, reaching forward to clasp Cordelia’s hands and peck her cheek like a long lost friend.

“Rebecca.”

“Oh, thank God you’re here,” Rebecca said, grinning. “I admit I cater to the rich, but I just can’t handle rich, spoiled and BORING. Not one of these women has the wit you have.”

Cordelia had to smile at the compliment, letting easy laughter come out of her as she turned her gaze back to the doors. “I take it the party hasn’t started yet?”

“Mmmm… not for what you want, but he’s here.”

Cordelia flushed at the knowing grin, and felt her heart shudder slightly as she carefully tossed the curls over her shoulder, her eyes growing colder.

“What about this Rachel girl? I’ve seen her-“

“Oh…” Rebecca looked apologetic, “Well in all fairness she DID see him first.” When Cordelia’s brow only rose higher, Rebecca added, “But… let me work it out. I promised him to you, and I always make sure my friends aren’t disappointed.”

Friends? Cordelia speculated on the nature of the word, but only offered a tight smile in response.

“Glad to hear that.”

Carefully, Rebecca took the corsage from Cordelia’s fingers, leaning forward to pin it delicately over Cordelia’s right breast.

Her fingers shook slightly, and Cordelia looked on, a little unnerved, until Rebecca pulled back, took in a shaky breath, and wrapped an arm into the crook of Cordelia’s elbow, leading her into the ballroom.

--

Rebecca Hull had not left her side, and Cordelia had the slightest suspicion that she had garnered some sort of guest of honor position, as she was seated comfortably on the plush bean bag like chair, lounging along with Rebecca and Donald, a glass of champagne in her hand as the men made their rounds with the woman.

It was odd, the men were… fully dressed.

In black tuxes and ties, the event seemed almost like a regular gathering, a party as the woman in red roses talked and laughed, and men held plates of food, seated next to them.

A band was playing, and the exclusive party was reminiscent of some forties Rita Hayworth movie she had watched as a child.

She found herself able to breathe normally only when Angel was not in the direct vicinity, and with Rebecca practically glued to her side, there was no way to allow the mounting tension that was quickly building in her abdomen to find any sort of release.

The vampire was treading on thin ice, if the signals Cordelia caught between Donald and Rebecca were accurate. His eyes were shifty, he seemed unsure, and her lips became almost parched when her throat became dry, as she realized that Angel looked openly nervous.

Samuel, a beautifully built man with a smile that would have sent her reeling had she not been dividing her time between trying to fight off the vision hangover and attempting to look cool and calm despite her aching need to understand what had Angel so freaked, came and sat down beside her, handing her another glass and speaking to her in a normal, conversational tone.

“You seem distracted.”

Rebecca gave a knowing smile and leaned back, for the moment leaving the two to speak as she reached over and whispered into Donald’s ear.

Cordelia was polite, but that was all, as she turned, regarding him and nodding. “Just tired. I have a little headache.”

To his credit, Samuel looked almost concerned as he placed the glass down and carefully reached for her neck.

“May I?”

She saw the hesitation, and unsure why she allowed it, nodded, as Samuel gently stepped around her and pressed soft, but firm fingers into the muscles of the crook of her neck.

An involuntary sigh escaped her, eyes drifting closed as the muscles underneath his delving fingertips contracted, tension being eased out by warmth.

“Wow. You’re tight.”

“Mmm.” Unconsciously, she found herself leaning, back now resting against Samuel’s chest, as he carefully worked at her back.

A tray slamming down made her jolt, her eyes jerk open, and her gaze immediately caught Angel’s angry glare, as he shoved a glass into one of the woman’s hands and turned away.

Flushing, Cordelia straightened, pushing Samuel’s hands off. “Thanks.”

“Are you-“

“Fine, that was great, but no more.” Rebecca leaned up against her, dark eyes thoughtful as she looked back to Angel’s retreating form.

“Something wrong?”

“Nothing,” Cordelia said hastily, gloved fingertips caressing at her temples, taking in a shaky breath. “I’m just… tired.”

”Long day.”

“You have no idea,” she admitted, a grim smile on her face.  Her cheeks were burning insistently, and when she finally gathered the gumption to face Rebecca, the other had an unreadable face.

“Donald go check on the rooms,” she said flippantly, and the other man huffed and looked ready to argue, but the look on Rebecca’s face had been used many a time by Cordelia and it had the required effect as Donald got up, shuffling off to the other side of the room.

“You’ve never done this before.”

Cordelia looked surprised, startled, and the slightest bit of fear worked itself into her system as she fervently shook her head.

“Rebecca-“

“It’s nothing to be ashamed of, Victoria,” Rebecca said, a smile emerging on her face as she turned her attention on the room, her tone almost conversational. “First time for everything, just glad you decided to do this with me, is all.”

Cordelia swallowed, wincing at the aching pain in her head before sucking in her breath. “What do you mean?”

Rebecca shrugged, but the smile was slow and wise and a little bit disturbing. “Just glad that it’s with me, is all.” Her eyes connected with Cordelia. “I like the newbies.”

“Yeah, pay for sex, yay me,” Cordelia muttered, disgust running rampant in her tone.

Rebecca paused, and shook her head. “That’s not what I mean. Women in general are so… bound by society, but look,” Rebecca motioned her glass to the Red Roses, laughing and talking with the men, “here there’s not pretension, no… wondering about morals and first impressions.” She grinned, sipping her drink and letting out a soft, contented sigh. “In this bubble women are free to take what they need, what they want.”

Cordelia was quiet, the smile on Rebecca’s face creeping her out more than a little. “So you see yourself as a… female liberator?”

“And I make good money at it,” Rebecca said, chuckling.

--

Towards the hours of the morning, the tension that had been building inside of Angel seemed ready to burst.

The vampire stood in the shadows, speaking urgently into the cellphone.

“No, Wesley! We’re fine.”

There was a loud sigh on the other end. “Angel you seem rather… agitated.”

“Yeah, well YOU get pawed at all night, and see how YOU feel.”

“Angel-“

“And Cordelia hasn’t even looked in my direction all night!”

There was a pause, and Angel flushed, shuffling feet.

“Angel, I need to know if you’re sure you can do this, because if you can’t-“

“Wesley I don’t think we have a choice,” he snapped, closing his eyes and leaning against the wall. “If it’s any consolation, not exactly in the mood for perfect happiness, okay?”

“Angel?”

The voice bounced off the walls and Angel turned, snapping the phone shut and turning back to the party, meeting Donald halfway.

“Rebecca wants you inside now,” Donald said, coming into the hallways, watching him with dark, almost emotionless eyes.

In his long years as a vampire, Angelus had never known fear, he had never known anxiety, and he had never cared about outcomes.

But the pit in Angel’s stomach was almost nauseating, and the aspect that identified with the demon took it’s toll, disgust shuddering over his body at the foreign human emotion of fear, caring… anxiety…

The pain and honor for which Angel had once striven for, the badge of honor that seemed more a burden now than before.

But he took a breath, thought of Jennifer, of Wesley and Gunn and Fred, and of Cordelia.

“Right.”

The hand on his shoulder stopped him from going further, as Donald began speaking in calm, firm tones. “Before you begin, here are the rules.”

--

“This is the best suite we have,” Rebecca smiled as she inserted the lock into door, turning it quickly and opening, pushing the door and allowing Cordelia to walk inside.

Her heels sunk into the plush carpet, and her breath caught at the sight of the velvet canopy, the rich, red vibrant color of the silk sheets.

“It’s no Le Meridian,” Rebecca said with a smile, leaning against the doorway, “But it’ll do.”

Cordelia’s eyes were wide, wonder clouding beneath the hazel as she turned, surveying the room as her purse was deposited on the nightstand, eyes searching the room for any sign of the camera she knew had to be there.

The room was plush, expensive, rich, comfortable.

“How long do we have?” she found herself wondering out loud.

“Take as long as you want,” Rebecca said, coming forward, arms crossed as she looked around the room, “make sure you get your money’s worth.” Her eyes shifted toward Cordelia’s form, and after a moment, she looked away. “But I wouldn’t recommend falling asleep. The walk of shame isn’t something I personally like for my clients.”

Cordelia felt the smile creep on her face before she had a chance to stop it, nodding. “That brings back memories.”

“Don’t I know it,” Rebecca commiserated, and the awkward silence ensued, until Rebecca coughed and turned toward the door. “Guess I better get our host. You should have everything you need. Enjoy yourself.”

The door clicked closed behind her, and still the game wouldn’t end. The cameras were in the room somewhere and the warped mind game had more than taken its toll on Cordelia’s tired mind.

Desperation mingled with exhaustion quickly were wearing her down, and with a sigh, she sank down onto the bed, closing her eyes and muttering a silent prayer for strength before the door opened and Angel stepped into the room.

Her head jerked up, and as their eyes locked, her heart gave, just a little.

The smile of awkwardness was real, relief mixed with awareness of their dangerous situation flooding through her as she stood shakily to her feet.

Angel was quiet, orbs dark and intense, searing through her as a man drunk on nothing but ardor.

His perfect mouth was set in a grim, dark, intense line, and she didn’t blame him the expression, she knew a similar frown was present on her own.

He fumbled with the lock, never taking his eyes off of her, and when that was done, he stepped away from it, one step closer to her.

Whether it had been unconscious or completely deliberate made no difference, he was one step closer and the truth was, she had missed him, incredibly.

In two steps she was in his arms, shuddering against the rock solid of his chest, eyes closing as their lips met and hungrily began to move.

There was one kiss, lips pressed fiercely against each other, and another, and she burrowed her face into his neck, holding him desperately, tightly, as his hold on her became almost painful.

She felt his mouth on her bare shoulder, heard his intake of breath as he breathed her scent in.

“Are you okay?” he whispered, lips brushing against the outer folds of her ear.

Her eyes closed involuntarily as she gave a sigh that seemed all too genuine. “Headache,” she answered just as quietly.

“Do you know where the cameras are?” he whispered again, this time burying his mouth in her neck.

Her fingers tangled into the short tufts at the nape of his neck, holding him closer, grazing the bone of his jaw with soft caresses as she moved her lips against his skin. “No idea.”

With a growl, he reached for her waist, lifting her up and pressing her groin firmly against his, and it was clear that this was taking its toll on him, as her hips bucked, seemingly enjoying a life of their own, against his hardening shaft.

“Angel…”

“Shhh…” He silenced her protest with a feather light kiss on her mouth, and her eyes connected with his and suddenly their lips were moving against each other hungrily.

Now she was on her back, body moving against satin sheets, fingers ripping buttons off holes as Angel valiantly tried to aid her, shrugging off the white dress shirt, ripping the bow tie off and tossing it away.

Oh, God…

Her body was heated, her mind feverish, and she fought to control the desire, biting her lip and attempting to keep the moaning out of her voice when he touched her, gently cupping one full breast against his palm.

She arched into his hand, and her eyes were moist when he whispered, gently, “Cordy…”

Her eyes never moved from his as his palm slid over her cheek, a faint caress that sent goosebumps throughout her body. “Do you trust me?”

Like he had to ask.

Her nod was almost immediate, even as her heart jolted with in her and her soul splintered at the pain of having to pretend when it was all too real… and much too dangerous.

This was a mission, it wasn’t real, but it was Angel, and he was here, and she trusted him with her very soul…

Even if she couldn’t trust him with his.

His eyes had flecks of gold in them when he was aroused, she realized, body completely still as he carefully slid the straps from the dress, propping himself up on one knee and sliding his hand under her waist, lifting her up to slide the dress down from under her.

It had occurred to her that they would have to be naked, even as he lifted the sheets out and tossed them over them, she was reaching for his belt buckle, cheeks tinting a furious red when he moved against her hand, his breath hitching in a strangled moan.

Oh, God….

“Trust me,” she whispered fiercely, chest heaving against his, as his arms went around her, the pair frozen completely, focused on each other’s face, almost afraid to look anywhere else. “We’ll get through this.”

He swallowed, hard, and in a incredibly stupid move, considering the camera’s, he allowed one gentle caress, from her hair, now in complete disarray, to her mouth.

“I love you,” he whispered, and their lips came together again, the kiss soft, gentle, desperate and scared.

They were so very scared.

But the trust was inherent, and it was what gave Cordelia hope, and gave her control, because there was complete trust, and for once, the fear gave way to something much stronger…

Their friendship could survive if there was trust…

And her hand jerked the belt loop out of the pants, and her fingers jerked the zipper down.

--

“I still don’t understand how you don’t find these things just the weirdest bit… disturbing.”

Rebecca ignored the outburst, instead staring down at the monitors, finger to her lips as she ran through them room by room.

“Jason’s going off too quickly, make sure you tell him that.”

Donald obediently scribbled it down. “You gonna see how our newest is doing?”

Rebecca nodded in distraction finally moving away from the last monitor to the one that Donald was observing.

Her eyes changed slightly, mouth pulling into a frown, crossing her arms.

Her eyes shifted to see Donald, but he was shifting slightly, shuddering as he turned away from the screen, Victoria’s moans apparently shaking him.

“Something wrong?”

“Sounds like she’s enjoying herself,” Rebecca muttered.

“Mmm… ya think?” Donald gave a smirk, “Though with that guy can you blame her?”

“He seems to be having a good time.”

“And with that girl, you blame him?”

Rebecca gave him a look. “You think he’s doing a good job?”

Donald turned back to screen, putting on his glasses to study the scene. “I think that’s the best debut in a while?” This time he was clearly interested, moving forward and almost grinning. “Almost perfect.”

“Mmm.”

But Rebecca only cocked her head, eyes intent on the scene, ignoring Donald’s running commentary.

Truth be told, she looked less than convinced.

--

The woman was utterly terrified.

Around her the chanting continued, and with tear streaked eyes, she held onto the man, pleading with him, begging to understand what was going on.

But the chanting continued, and in her heels she slipped, trying to catch her fall with by slamming her palm into the floor.

The pain shot up her forearm, and her wrist crumpled, making her cry out in agony.

The man held her down, and she looked up at him, pleading with him, eyes jerking toward the statue that stood stoically in the center, looking down on her with the face of a woman, the body of… something else completely.

She begged but he said nothing, his face drawn and his eyes glazed over, almost onyx and black.

The figure in the hood came nearer, and when it reached forward, the tattoo was clearly visible on the hand.

She gasped in recognition, and the chanting grew louder, and louder…

The burst of light came in sync with her pain, and when the lifeless hand fell to the floor, the red rose tumbled onto the floor, smashed, and hopelessly out of shape.

Chapter Eight
--

The walk of shame.

Cordelia closed her eyes, heels clicking against the marble cobblestone as she looked back at the darkly lit mansion, feeling an unconscious shudder travel through her.

Moving down the steps, she noticed other woman leaving, on their faces expressions of relief, happiness… almost like kittens purring, their tummies filled with their mother’s milk.

Inside Cordelia there was nothing but an ache that had refused to find release.

The limousine pulled up and she stepped in, sinking into the seat and blowing out her breath.

“Let’s go home.”

As the limousine moved through the narrow, curvy streets, Cordelia remained silent, lost in thought. She had picked up Angel’s habit of brooding entirely too well, she realized.

Her fingers were shaking, but as her mind reeled with images of the night she had just passed with her best friend, there was one thing to smile about.

It was the trust that got them through, and, thankfully, it was the reason she was sitting there now, unfulfilled, in her dress that now felt uncomfortable and scratchy, heels that achingly pinched at her feet, and extensions that were beginning to add to her already painful headache.

But the smile faltered as the words Angel had said in the heat of the moment flooded through her. Fingers rubbing at her temples, Cordelia dealt with her sinking heart, knowing she would be haunted with those images, with these memories taken for the sake of a case, forever.

He loved her.

A grim smile floated upon her features and she shuddered, letting out one sob before grabbing a bottle of champagne from the cabinet in the leather chair and pouring herself a drink.

Where the hell were they going to go from here?

--

With a scowl, Wesley tossed the pad onto the table, leaning forward onto the desk and breathing out a heavy sigh of frustration.

“You okay?”

He was bloody getting tired of everybody asking him that.

Moving his hands away from his head, he looked up to find Cordelia standing hesitantly in the doorway, watching him in concern.

The extensions were still on her, dark strands cascading down her back, framing her face in curly tendrils.

He sometimes forgot just how beautiful she really was.

“Cordelia.”

“Hey.” Coming into the room, she dropped her purse on the nearby chair and sank into the one next to it, letting her breath out. “You okay?” she asked again.

He responded with a small, relieved smile. “I am now,” he said honestly. “Truth be told, I was half afraid…”

He trailed off with a blush, as Cordelia gave him a blank stare, and then, as the realization of what he meant came, shifted uncomfortably in her chair. “Wesley if there was any chance of that-“

“I know,” he interrupted softly. “But… there were concerns.”

There was no response. When he looked up, she finally just shrugged, her tone tinged with anger as she spit, “You know I would never let that-“

“There are things beyond our control,” he interrupted, and finally just turned back to the pad. “I can’t find anything on this.”

She was breathing heavily now, torn between anger and denial, and finally she followed his lead, ignoring the obvious situation and leaning forward, taking the pad from him. Eyes roving over it, she swallowed and shoved it back. “That was as well as I could do it.”

“I know.”

“Wesley?”

He looked up, and her hazel tinted orbs were now darker, lips pursed into a soft frown. “I know that I haven’t exactly been there for you, Wesley. I’m sorry.”

“Cordelia…”

“I just…”

Footsteps on the staircase made her mouth clamp shut, and Wesley looked over her shoulder to see Angel pause in the doorway, eyes fixated on the figure seated in front of him.

“Angel. Good morning.”

Cordelia shuffled again, Angel paused, eyes shifting between her and Wesley before finally clamping his hand on the doorway and pushing himself in.

“Hey.”

Cordelia was visibly blushing, but it wasn’t amusing.

In Wesley’s opinion, it was almost heartbreaking to watch, as Angel shoved his hands into his pockets, the pair standing side by side, almost afraid to look at each other.

“Any luck?” Angel finally ventured, breaking the awkward silence.

“I’m afraid not,” Wesley said, leaning back in his chair. “At best my theory is that it is a Greek deity, but which one…” he waved his hand, sighing.

Again with the silence.

“Well… “

The phone rang, and when both Cordelia and Angel made an attempt to scramble for the door, Wesley intercepted them both. “I’ll get it.”

He moved out of the office, leaving them to stare at each other in silence.

--

Fred wondered if she had done something wrong.

Seated on the passenger side of the truck, she viewed Gunn’s face flicker with unreadable expressions, as he looked at her and then back at the road, with eyes of a scientist.

He hadn’t said one word since this morning, and aside from the tacos that were now perched on her lap, he hadn’t moved to touch her once.

“Charles?”

“Hmm?”

Fred felt something slightly queasy settle in her stomach, swallowed nervously, and asked timidly, “Did we have a fight that I don’t know about?”

His head jerked in her direction, visibly surprised, and she felts slightly better when he coughed, shaking his head no. “No, of course not, baby doll.”

“Oh.” She bit her lip, looking down at her lap and then up at the stop sign as the truck drifted to a stop. “I just…”

“So you and Wesley.”

She blinked at the interruption, mouth parting slightly. “Me and Wesley what?”

His grip tightened around the steering wheel, and Fred, openly confused, waited as he began to open and close his mouth like a gutted fish.

“You… friends, right?”

“Of course. I love Wesley…” Bewildered, she shrugged her shoulders, still completely confused.

“So… when you say you LOVE him…” Charles’ voice had taken on a curious tone now, and it befuddled Fred more than ever.

What was he talking about?

“Charles…”

“If umm…” Jerking suddenly, the truck veered to a stop in front of a newsstand, and he turned to her, “Look Fred I need you to stay away from Wesley.”

Her mouth parted in surprise, and immediately he blushed, shifting in his seat. “That came out wrong. What I meant was… You and me… he likes you, okay?”

The mouth stayed open.

Thoughts were whirling through poor Fred’s brain, as her boyfriend continued to stutter through his explanation of exactly what was wrong.

When it was over, she still wasn’t sure she got exactly what had happened.

Wesley was… what?

In the middle of a case this was coming out?

Fred had never been one for incompetence or for waste of time. Even in Pylea she had often planned her schedule in her cave, nervous about wasted energy and wasted and time and unreasonable and illogical assumptions.

This was quite clearly, incredibly illogical.

Taking a breath, she shifted again, pushing the tacos in between them and crossing her legs, running fingers through her hair.

“I… see.”

“Fred?”

Pulling herself into the corner of the seat, her thoughts continued to whirl. A knot of something tight settled in her stomach, and it wasn’t comfortable at all. “You think that just because Wesley has a crush on me that you can’t trust him? Or me?”

Her eyes flashed, and Gunn looked taken aback by it.

Fred had learned enough from Cordelia to know that he knew whatever kind of reaction he was looking for, this wasn’t it.

“No, Fred-“

“After all that we’ve been through as a family, as a group-“

“Fred-“

Suddenly he paused, and jerked open the door, leaving her speaking alone in the car. “Gunn?”

Moving quickly, he ran to the newsstand, fishing into his pocket and grabbing a paper, paying the man and running back into the truck.

“Charles are you ignoring our first argument?”

“Baby doll, look.”

Fred jerked the paper out of his hand, not caring at all if he garnered a paper cut, and clapped open the page, looking at the headline.

She gasped, her stomach plummeting.

--

“So…”

“So…”

Trying to find anything to keep his fidgeting hands occupied, Angel paced to the desk, picking up a pencil, fiddling with it, until his nervous fingers dropped it and it went clattering to the floor.

Cordelia saw it drop, and he flushed, stepping away from the desk.

The quiet was dreadful, horrific, and it shouldn’t have been there. It shouldn’t have… Cordelia and he had promised each other they would get through it…

And here they were… through it… they had had … ‘faux sex’ and they had come out of it with soul intact and…

Cordelia was laughing.

He blinked, cocking his head, knocked out of his broody reverie by the sight of his friend collapsing into giggles in the chair.

“Cordy?”

She was convulsing, hand clapped over her mouth as her shoulders shook with mirth.

“I’m sorry,” she gasped, face red from the exertion. “It’s just I looked at you and suddenly I was like, ‘I saw Angel naked!’”

He shifted his weight, eyebrow rising as he tried to figure out what was funny about that.

“Uh… how is that funny?”  he asked pointedly.

She couldn’t help but laugh harder, tears streaming down her cheeks as she pointed a shaky finger. “Can you… *gasp* it’s just… you and me- can you imagine what Xander would say? Or Buffy? ‘Hey Buffy! How are you? I’m fine, by the way, I had fake sex with Angel last night!”  Still bewildered, he found a smile emerging on his face. “Oh, yeah! Did I mention he’s a stripper now?” she continued, heaving in breaths.

He crossed his arms, tried to look stern, but found a conceding smile overtaking that. “I can see that,” he said, leaning back against the desk. “No one would have expected that a few years ago.” His dark eyes looked down at the young face, found something inside him tugging on his soul. She was right… he had seen her… naked.

Cordelia. Cordelia was naked. And he was there.

“There is something… almost… incestuous about you and me,” he admitted.

“Hey! Speak for yourself bucko! I never thought of you as my brother! Gross much?”

He grinned at the admission, eyes connecting with hers, before the grins and giggles faded. But the awkwardness was broken, thanks to Cordelia’s landmark observations, and he was able to smile at his best friend who he had seen naked… touched and tasted and-

“So… had fun last night?”  Her eyebrow rose as she tucked herself further into her chair, giving him a glare. “’Cause it… sounded like you… had fun…”

She continued to stare at him. “Angel,” she said evenly, “You’re not talking about the orgasm, are you?”

He coughed, suddenly red.

“Because you know I faked, right?”

“You faked?!” The words blurted out before he could stop him, and his inflated pride now deflated as quickly as a pricked balloon. “But… no way.”

Her eyes grew rounder. “Oh my God. You honestly thought I could actually – in THAT situation?”

“Well…” he shuffled, suddenly wishing for the earth to open up and swallow him whole. “You … sounded… I smelled…”

“You smelled?!”

“But-“

“Angel!”

“Cause- you did NOT fake! No one’s ever faked on-“

”Do you WANT Me to go ‘When Harry Met Sally’ on your ass?!”  She stood, arms crossed, glaring at him challengingly.

“Guys!” Gunn burst into the room, and Cordelia moved away automatically, settling back down into her chair as Fred came with him, putting the box of tacos on the empty seat next to her.

Wesley reentered the room, steps faltering as he noticed Gunn and Fred, and their differing reactions to him.

Fred smiled. Gunn very nearly glared.

Angel’s beeper went off, and the vampire quickly reached for his pocket. “Dancehall,” he muttered. “I’ll go call.”

Angel moved past the group, throwing another look toward Cordelia.

She responded by sticking her tongue out at him.

“Cordelia! Get some last night?”

“Bite me, Gunn. Where on earth did you get tacos at this hour?” Cordelia asked, taking one foil wrapped package from Fred.

“Gunn and I made them!” Fred said, setting them on her lap as she sat down. “They’re breakfast tacos!”

Her expression frozen, Cordelia immediately pushed them away.

“Not hungry, but thanks!”

“Something wrong, Gunn?” Wesley asked, crossing his arms. Gunn looked a little wary, but just nodded and thrust the paper into his hands.

“Read that.”

Wesley opened up the paper, scanning the headline.

Cordelia was curious, dread overtaking that emotion when she saw Gunn and Fred’s faces.

Her heart quivered. “Wes?”

“Cordelia, do you know this woman?” He turned the paper so that it was facing her. Cordelia leaned forward, and suddenly her eyes closed, her body slumping back into the chair. “I take it that’s a yes,” he asked gently.

Fred bit her lip as Cordelia nodded hesitantly. “Name’s Heather Silvers. She was a visiting chick. Kinda like me.”

Gunn took the paper back, “Found last night, dead… slit open.”

“Was she at the party?”

Cordelia nodded hesitantly.

“Shit.”

Fred shuffled. “What are we going to do?”

“Confront Rebecca tonight,” Cordelia said, straightening up. “We’ve been lying on our backs- or sitting on our asses-“ she amended, “Too long. We take care of this tonight.”

“I’m dancing tonight,” Angel announced, walking back into the room, taking the paper from Wesley when it was handed to him. “Crap.”

His eyes locked with Cordelia and she nodded.

“Would you like some help?”  Wesley offered.

“No,” Angel said, shaking his head. “We need answers before we do anything. We’ll give you a call if we need anything.”

“I’ll keep researching here, “ Wesley said, sitting back in the chair reaching for his piles of files. “Perhaps the way Heather was cut will provide some insight into the ritual that is used.”

“I can help,” Fred offered, and that earned her a smile from the Englishman.

Gunn immediately grabbed her hand, pulling her back. “I’m sure English can do it just find on his own.”

Wesley blanched. Fred noticed the reaction, anger rising in her at Charles’ irrational behavior, and she glared, shrugging him off with a furious tug. “Ah’m helpin’ him tonight, Gunn,” she snapped.

Her eyes caught Cordelia form as she walked out of the office silently, and with another glare to her boyfriend, she followed.

--

The courtyard was chirping with birds, the sun was shining, and it was almost pleasant.

Just when Cordelia wanted it broody and dark.

Figured.

“Hey.”

Cordelia tossed young physicist a distracted smile as she waited hesitantly at the end of the bench.

“Hey, Fred.”

“Can I sit?”

“I wouldn’t mind.”

Carefully, Fred sat, palms flat against the stone bench, looking at Cordelia nervously. “Are you okay?” she finally asked.

Cordelia shrugged, sighing. “Not really no. Heather was a loud bitch but she didn’t deserve to die.”

“We’ll find out who’s responsible.”

”What if we already know who it is but are just taking too long to find it?” Cordelia snapped in self directed anger.

Fred pursed her lips, but said nothing.

When she spoke again, her voice was softer, more hesitant. “What about last night?”

Immediately a guarded expression fluttered over the May Queen’s face. “What about last night?”

“Are you okay? About that?”

Cordelia offered a grim smile. “You’d think I’d be all screwed up about it huh? I mean, it was hard, Fred. Really… hard… “

”Ah bet…”

“No, not that-“ Cordelia looked almost shocked, but Fred only blushed and she reverted to a smile shaking her head. “Pervert.”

Fred giggled.

“No, I meant…”

“Ah know what you meant. I was… jokin’.”

“It was a good joke.”

“Really?”

Cordelia grinned. “Yeah.”

Fred smiled.

The quiet remained, and Cordelia wistfully added, “I don’t know where to go from here.”

“I don’t know if anyone ever does.” The Seer closed her eyes, took a breath, and nodded.

When she opened them, she was ready to face the world, and her task.

Standing, she gently pushed at the young scientist, grabbing Fred by the hand.

“Come on, Nutty. Let’s go see if Larry, Moe and Curly actually left any of those weird breakfast taco things for us.”

Once they were inside, Cordelia was distracted by Angel in the lobby, as he began to ask her something in a whispered tone that inferred it was only for the Seer’s eyes.

Fred didn’t mind, she was having her own problems.

Stepping into the office, the blatant hostility on Gunn’s part directed at Wesley was almost overwhelming.

The anger that had only been simmering was now close to boiling at the look of anguish on Wesley’s face, and the look of blind jealousy on Gunn’s.

There was so many things wrong with this situation she had no idea where to even begin.

Determined to be an adult about the situation, and not wish to be magically jolted out of the love triangle from hell, Fred balled her hands into fists and took a breath, choosing instead to ignore it… for now.

Coming forward, she sat down in the chair, grabbing the notes she had compiled and rifling through them.

“We need to find a way to help them,” she began, eyes shifting between the two men. “We can’t let them do this alone.”

“What can we do” Wesley asked, sinking down into his chair, hands tangled together, “that we aren’t doing already?”

“You got me, Wes,” Gunn said, moving into the chair next to Fred.

“Maybe we can figure out something tonight,” she offered.

Despite her patience, when Gunn opened his mouth to protest, it was quiet simply the last straw for her frazzled nerves.

Annoyance and hurt at his lack of trust splintered through her and she glared at him, sitting up and shouting to the door, “Cordelia!”

Four seconds later, Angel and Cordelia both stuck their heads in the office. “Yeah Fred?” she asked impatiently, apparently not pleased at being interrupted.

“Can I go with you tonight?” she asked politely, throwing a thumb in Wesley’s direction. “Gunn can help Wesley.”

Charles flinched at the cold use of his last name, but Fred was beyond caring.

Cordelia glanced at Angel, who shrugged. “Sure. I guess.”

“Thanks.”  Fred smiled and got up. “I think I’ll go pick what I’m going to wear.”

“Fred!”

Gunn scrambled after her, pushing past Cordelia and Angel, catching Fred by the elbow as she moved up the stairs. “What are you so pissed about?”

“You have to ask?” Fred snapped, snatching her hand away from his grasp. He looked at her helplessly. “You’re in there treatin’ Wesley like some…stranger and you’re treating me like… some…” she huffed, wiping her bangs out of her face. “I thought you trusted me.”

Gunn looked flabbergasted, and his tone was timid, gentle, “Baby, I do-“

“Don’t you baby doll me. Ah know I’m not… all knowledgeable about… stuff when it comes to relationships but I know a thing or two about friendship and I think I liked that better that this…”

“Fred!”

“At least you trusted me when we were just friends, Gunn!” Her eyes suddenly began to sparkle and Gunn found himself rooted to the spot as she scrambled up the stairs, running away from him.

Closing his eyes, he grunted in frustration, kicking at the stairs with all his might, turning back around and finding his three co-workers staring up at him in wide-eyed shock.

He glared at them all, and wisely, Cordelia pushed Angel and Wesley back into the office, leaving him alone.

Letting his knees buckle, he sat down at the stairs, torn between wanting to go up and demand Fred open the door so they could talk, and staying right here, and letting his heart splinter into a million pieces, wondering if she was right.

But it had gone too far now…

He smiled grimly.

Here she was, the one who claimed not to know a thing about relationships and he was the one feeling like a first class asshole.

He had lived for years on the streets, survived on his guts and kept people alive…

But he let everyone down.

And he had let even little Fred down.

He buried his head in his hands, ignoring Cordelia as she jogged around him, up the stairs, to Fred’s room.

--

Fred jerked her dress off the hanger, throwing it on her bed, resisting the urge to grab the pen and scribble out her frustration on the walls.

Her eyes were stinging with tears, and she wiped them away fiercely, moving back to the closet and choosing another dress, tossing it beside the first.

The door creaked open slightly, and Fred glanced back, noting Cordelia leaning against the door with a curiously closed expression on her face.

Fred ignored her, moving again to the closet, shoving another dress off the hanger to add to the pile.

“Don’t say it,” she began stammering, “Ah don’t care if he’s hurt or mad ‘cause he hurt me too! I … love hurts and I knew it and I did it anyway – and why doesn’t he trust me? Does he even – and no I had to say those things to him and he probably thinks that – you know what? I don’t care what he thinks because Gunn is just… he’s a MAN and I’m probably better off with Wesley ANYWAY. Because Wesley’s my friend and he knows about books and he probably wouldn’t get jealous…” With that she crumpled, sinking down onto the floor, drawing her knees to her body, tears spilling from her eyes.

Cordelia watched silently, and finally entered the room, closing the door behind her and reaching for a package of Kleenex, coming forward and settling beside Fred.

”Wear the red dress,” she said finally, carefully wiping the tears from Fred’s eyes. “It looks great with your skin tone, and I’ve got some shoes that would match perfectly.” Fred gazed at her in wonder, but Cordelia only smiled simply. “And you have to stop crying. I can’t do anything about puffy eyes, and I’m a woman. Waterworks only work with men.”

She sniffled, and Cordelia’s easy grin made her grin shakily back, as the Seer wrapped an arm around her and Fred leaned forward, resting her head on Cordelia’s shoulder, taking comfort in her friend.

“It doesn’t get easier, does it?” she found herself whispering.

Cordelia was quiet, stroking her shoulder thoughtfully. “No,” she remarked finally, “it never does. But Fred.”

“Hmm.”

“In the end, they’re worth it.”

Fred closed her eyes, feeling her heart shuddering within her.

She hoped so. She really hoped so.

Chapter Nine
--

Fred stepped out of the car with a grim determination to enjoy herself despite the mire circumstances that surrounded that night.

Wearing a long red dress that was slim fitting, her hair pulled up, and sporting the contacts she almost never bothered to bring out, Fred felt different…

But not better.

After all, the problems that were making her stomach queasy and her heart ache were definitely not any less solved, and Gunn and Wesley were still at the hotel and-

Cordelia gave her a short distracted smile, reminding Fred the reason they were here was not a girl’s night out, not by a long shot.

Shifting in the dress and almost tripping on the heels, Fred caught a picture of herself and Cordelia as they passed the mirror in the darkened hallway, music only a dull throb now.

Passing by, it was like looking into another world. A world where Cordelia walked on by without a second glance, the very picture of a rich young woman with no regard for anyone. The expression on her face was cold, almost disdainful, and trailing behind, in this curious world, was another stranger, a beautiful young woman with long brown curls and more make up than was needed in a tight red dress and sparkling brown eyes.

She paused, looking into the mirror, thinking about possibilities and probabilities and the law of alternate universes.

“Fred!”

“Coming!” Startled out of her reverie, the young physicist moved quickly, catching up to Cordelia, eyes suddenly widening as the curtain was pulled open and they both stepped into the club.

This was definitely… different. Fred clutched at her purse, muttering a harried ‘Oh my’ at the image on the stage, the dancing young man who gyrated his pelvis and smiled down at her.

Her blush was discernable, she was sure of it, she could feel the heat of it on her cheeks, and she looked quickly away, wiping bangs out of her face as her mind floated back to Charles for one second before she forced it back to the present, following Cordelia into a corner table.

Cordelia slid into the booth as if it was custom made for her and her form only. Fred hopped a bit, scooting in.

“Ms. Chase.” Immediately a smile that seemed foreign plastered on Cordelia’s face as an older, balding man came to them, weaving around tables and clasping her hands.

“Donald.”

“Lovely to see you again.”

“Lovely to be here,” Cordelia returned warmly. Donald cast a curious eye in Fred’s direction and Cordelia smoothly waved a hand over to her. “This is my friend, Ginger Burkle.”

Ginger? Fred began to shake her head to correct the name, but Cordelia shot her an icy look, and that was quite enough to shut her mouth and only shake his hand dutifully.

“Bringing in new clients already?”

“Hello, Rebecca.”

“Victoria!” Rebecca slid in next to her, looking genuinely happy to see Cordelia.

Finally able to meet the infamous Rebecca face to face, Winnifred was mildly excited, only to find it quickly gave way to confusion. Fred cocked an eyebrow, studying the pimp. Definitely didn’t SEEM the type to kill and ritually sacrifice other woman… in fact that had been bothering her this whole time.

For someone that believed in women liberation and the deconstruction of boundaries and morals, it seemed … odd… that Rebecca Hull, tattooed or not, would really go as far as to sacrifice sexually active woman to a sex God. That seemed a direct opposition to her true beliefs.

Crossing her arms, Fred frowned, unsure, mind whirling with the possibilities.

By this time Rebecca and Cordelia were fully immersed in conversation, and Fred forced herself to turn to Donald, who just smiled at her.

“New here?”

Nodding, Fred attempted to sound elegant, but ended up with her accent plastering on more sugary sweetness than usual. “Victoria told me I had ta see this place to believe it.”

“Oh, honey, that’s how I ended up here,” he grinned a toothy grin, revealing a gold cap on his molar. “But you don’t seem the type.”

Fred gave a sad smile. “I’m not,” she admitted honestly, shifting eyes to Cordelia, who was still talking in low whispers to Ms. Hull, who was inching closer to Cordelia’s side by the second. Slightly distracted by the hand Rebecca placed on Cordelia’s forearm, Fred answered flippantly, “Ah had a fight with my boyfriend.”

“Ahhh…” he gave a low whistle of sympathy. “I know how that is.”

“Ginger.”

Fred just smiled at Donald.

“Ginger.” This time Cordelia pressed at her arm, and Fred suddenly remembered who she was supposed to be.

“Oh! Hi, sorry!”

Cordelia gave her a slightly narrowed gaze, and motioned with a jerk toward the man without a shirt waiting with a tray at the end of the table.

Fred looked up, felt her heart jolt, and choked in surprise.

Angel was standing there wearing nothing on his chest but a bowtie.

She coughed, blushing furiously, and when her face got red from lack of air, Cordelia clapped her on the back, quickly saying to her friend, “She’s fine for now, I think. I’ll take a Red Bull with Absolut.”

“Ooooh. Rough day?”

“You have no idea.”

“Actually,” Donald stood. “I was just about to get a drink for myself. Angel?”

The vampire only had eyes for Cordelia, and Fred was free to inspect him freely, and her eyes hungrily roving over the bare chest, feeling slightly guilty for doing so, and with good reason.

Fred’s eyes were still glued on Angel’s chest, when Cordelia pinched her slightly. Fred felt the slight pain and jolted up, reaching up to set her glasses straight before realizing she wasn’t wearing any.

Rebecca leaned back, smiling at the scene. “Now there’s a girl who needs to get laid.”

“She’s not completely herself today,” Cordelia said flippantly, eyes focused on Angel as he retreated toward the bar, Donald following. “She had a fight with her boyfriend.”

“Ohh… then you definitely need to get laid,” Rebecca said with a smirk.

Cordelia gave a short, grim smile before turning a serious look to the young owner. “Rebecca, can I talk to you alone?”

Realizing she must have missed out on something largely important, Fred looked up, leaning in to hear the conversation, the loud music obstructing her from getting everything completely.

The concern on the owner’s face was evident as she nodded, getting up to let Cordelia out. “Sure.”

Donald came back with the drinks, setting down Cordelia’s.

“Excuse me,” he said, his voice harried. “One of the ladies seemed to have a little too much to drink and is taking it out on our bathroom.”

Cordelia pushed the drink to Fred as he walked away, giving her a grim smile. “Have it, I’ll be right back. Don’t MOVE.”

Cordelia’s eyes narrowed and suddenly ill at ease, Fred nodded emphatically, hands in her lap, taking in a harried breath as Cordelia followed Rebecca through the club disappearing when she walked through a door on the far end.

Waiting, Fred sat, mind suddenly calculating, wondering if she should have perhaps followed them in for the confrontation.

Fluttering with logic and possibilities, Fred contemplated the nature of the case, and the thought crossed her mind that they honestly did not have enough evidence of yet to confront anyone.

Then again, there rarely was enough of that in their business.

She was quickly beginning to learn that logic sometimes never had anything to do with anything but math. Her mouth pulled into a frown as she reached for Cordelia’s drink, eyes suddenly moist as a well of buried emotion came bubbling to the surface.

The lights flickered, and a young black man stepped onto the stage, smiling devilishly. The piercing cries of the women in the room were almost too much to handle.

There was a jolt in Fred’s heart, one that came fueled with more than a little anger as she remembered her real reason for coming, and more than ever determined to enjoy herself, she wrapped her palm around Cordelia’s Absolut with Red Bull, taking one large gulp.

It almost made her gag, and she set it down quickly, but it made her slightly lightheaded, and feeling a bit better, she smiled, suddenly able to appreciate the man’s movements much more.

--

“So what are you saying, English, that the demon isn’t about female empowerment at all, but about domination?”  Charles Gunn slumped back in his seat, completely confused, shaking his head.

Wesley clucked his tongue, eyes roving over the pages. “I know it sounds odd, but this isn’t the Greek mythology that we’ve come to embrace. It’s convoluted, a demon that’s taken what’s familiar and perverted it.”

Charles lolled his tongue around his mouth, getting up and moving around the desk to peek over Wesley’s shoulder. “So you’re saying this guy is playing Cupid and ‘Dite, but ain’t really it?”

“Farthest thing.” Wesley flipped some pages, and then pointed out the drawing in Cordelia’s sketch. “Have you heard the parable of the genie?”

“Do I look like I would know about the parable of some funny old genie?”

Wesley ignored the gripe and continued with the story, “In short, a man was granted three wishes, but each wish became a curse instead.”

Gunn sank back down in the desk, “So you’re saying that this dude may SEEM to be all about gratifying love and sex and all that but really is more about-“

“Parasite. Feeds off the emotion – under the guise.”

Charles and Wesley locked eyes, and Gunn nodded, blowing out his breath. “Well now we’re getting somewhere.”

Wesley shut the books, reaching for the telephone, punching in some numbers.

“What are you doing?”

”Calling Angel. I’m hesitant to confront Ms. Hull until we know for sure the extent of her power.”

“Or, I can go!” Gunn immediately rose, reaching for his jacket. “And umm…. Talk to them…” The words died at Wesley’s look, and both men suddenly looked away, the real reason for Gunn’s enthusiasm obvious.

“Gunn…” Wesley rose, but Charles immediately shrugged him off, expression unreadable as he jerked toward the doorway.

“Don’t, Wesley-“

“I’m merely trying to-“

“I get it, okay?” Charles finally snapped, swallowing hard as he turned back, turning hard eyes at Wesley. “I know that I’m being irrational and judgmental and I have no right to not trust you or her, but you know what? It don’t matter. Maybe I don’t trust myself, I don’t know. But I need time.”

“You’ll lose her, Gunn,” Wesley said quietly, hands in his pockets, tone solemn. “And what happens then?”

Charles froze in the doorway, as the words sunk in, and shoulders slumping, he just left as if he hadn’t heard a word.

--

“Come on.”

Cordelia followed Rebecca into her office, noting the sincere concern that was easily readable on Rebecca’s expression.

It made her more than a little queasy. Since her entrance into the club this evening, Cordelia had been fighting the anxiety that came with going into a situation almost blindly. Her hands balled into rather unlady-like fists, and it made her unclench them thoughtfully, hoping that Rebecca hadn’t noticed.

Sinking into the chair opposite her desk, watching as Rebecca’s eyes drifted from her hands to her eyes, Cordelia realized with a sinking stomach that she in fact, had.

Should she wait for Angel?

Cordelia glanced apprehensively over her shoulder, noting that the eye contact with Angel stating her purpose might not have been enough. The dork sometimes had the intuition of a toad.

“You okay?”

Cordelia blew out her breath, managing a grim smile as she crossed her legs, leaning back into her chair. “Not really.” When Cordelia looked back towards the door a second time, Rebecca sighed.

“Don’t worry, I already know.”

Cordelia blinked, taken completely by surprise.

“You do?”

Rebecca nodded, frowning, her voice sympathetic. “Don’t worry. He’s getting fired today.”

A blank look invaded Cordelia’s face, her mouth dropping open. “Huh?”

Rebecca gave a short, sad smile. “I know he didn’t… well I know and um… he pretty much had to-“

Cordelia’s mind grappled with the realization. “You’re firing Angel?!?”

“Victoria I know you like him, but if he didn’t make you-“

The door opened and Cordelia’s head swiveled, catching Angel’s gaze in wide-eyed panic as he stepped into the office, closing the door firmly behind him.

”Angel, good.” Rebecca rose, motioning to the seat beside Cordelia. “Take a seat.”

Angel looked almost unsure, turning to Cordelia with expressive eyebrows but she only shrugged helplessly.

“Cordelia?”

“I haven’t exactly told her yet.”

This time it was Rebecca’s turn to look confused. “Cordelia?”

--

Someone in this place was most definitely loud.

Fred tore her eyes away from the man grinding on the stage, found herself slurring a bit as she nearly tipped on the leather seat, waving her hands.

“SHUT UP!”

With a smile, she sank back into her chair, tipping the rest of the contents of the drink into her mouth, smiling blissfully up at the dancing man.

The room was so brilliantly alive with colors and remarkable contours and she was feeling slightly sleepy, but her smile was never so wide and she had never felt so completely… uninhibited.

“Ms. Burkle?”

Winnifred swung her head around and smiled at what seemed to be two different Donalds.

“Hulooo.”

“Umm… Are you feeling all right?”

“I’m absolutely perfect, thank you.”

“I see…” He looked suspicious, but only pursed his mouth. “And Miss Chase?”

Cordelia. Where was Cordelia? Fred frowned, searching the club and her mind before she shrugged helplessly, smiling sunnily up at the man. “Maybe she’s off boffing Angel.”

“Fred?”

The familiar voice made Fred smile even wider, as her body twisted and Wesley was engulfed into a hug.

“WESLEY!”

“Perhaps some water,” Donald muttered, moving away.

The image of Fred Burkle smiling so… cheerfully up at the strange man, exposing so much cleavage, was disconcerting enough, but now the armful of the young girl made Wesley blush, as he carefully pulled her arms away from his neck, setting her back down in the bench, ignoring the curious patrons that were beginning to look their way.

“What are ya doin’ here, Wes?”

“I… have a message for Angel…” Fred’s fingers slid between the top two buttons of his shirt, and Wesley gasped, wrapping fingers around her palms and jerking them away. “Fred are you alright?”

“I’m so GOOD, Wesley.” She grinned cheekily, resting her head on his shoulder and gazing up at him adoringly. “You’re so cute.”

The blush intensified, and Wesley swallowed down the betraying sense of emotions as he patted her awkwardly. “Are you drunk?”

“Don’t be silly, Wesley!” She sounded absolutely horrified at the thought. “Ah’ve barely even had a drink of the Red Cow-“ she fumbled with the now empty tumbler until Wesley grabbed it out of her hand and set it on the other side of the round table, out of her reach.

“Fred, WHERE is Cordelia?”

“Ah was just tellin’ that man that ah think she’s boffing Angel…” She snuggled deeper into Wesley’s arms, “They’ve got kyerumption, ya know.”

Wesley groaned, glasses glinted as Fred continued to position her hands in rather compromising positions, searching the room for any sign of Cordelia or Angel.

--

“Who the hell is Cordelia?”

Angel sent Cordelia an annoyed glare, but the Seer only narrowed her eyes and gave as good as she got.

Rebecca stood, and her attention was diverted, her tone even as she remarked, “That would be me. Rebecca I don’t we’ve been entirely honest with you. Angel’s not a stripper-“

“Damn right he’s not. He’s fired.”

“I’m actually- FIRED?! I’M FIRED?!”

“Angel honey,” Cordelia reached forward, wrapping her hand around his arm. “Kinda not the point.”

Rebecca’s eyes caught the intimate gesture, her mouth floating open in surprise. Backing up, suddenly eyeing the door, she demanded, “What the hell is going on?”

“Angel and I are detectives,” Cordelia said, reaching into her purse and flipping out a business card.

“What the hell did I do to get fired?” Angel asked, apparently still not quite able to get past that one point.

Rebecca reached for the card, sucking in her breath as she read off the name, “Cordelia Chase. FUCK.” Slamming the card down, she reaching into her drawer and pulled out a check book. “What the hell is this gonna cost?”

”Cost?”

”Money.” Rebecca’s eyes were cold as she opened the book, pen poised to write. “I’m assuming you take bribes.”

“We’re not working with the police,” Angel said, crossing his arms, blocking the path to the doorway with his heavy set frame.

“We’re here to talk about this,” Cordelia said, placing the missing videotape on the desk, the red rose next to it.

“What, the video tapes?” Rebecca shook her head, obviously panicked.

“Bribes? I notice you’re not entirely unfamiliar with the concept?” Cordelia asked, voice and tone inferring as she settled down into the chair.

“You think that I- that this- NO!” Rebecca slammed her hand down, sweeping her hand wide to the stack on the bookshelves. “I run a business, CORDELIA. The videotapes, the monitors are there to make sure my boys perform, that’s all. That’s how I knew you faked it.”

Cordelia allowed one small smirk of triumph at Angel. “See?”

“You were NOT FAKING!”

“Oh, I so was.”

Angel let out a growl, turning his glare at Rebecca. “She was not faking. And… FIRED?!”

“You’re a horrible stripper Angel! You MUST have seen it coming-“

“Angel-“

“She didn’t fake, okay-“

“Angel-“

“What the HELL is up with his face?” The panicked look that fled over Rebecca’s face made Cordelia jerk her head back to Angel.

“Angel! Game face off! Now!”

Rebecca was now completely pressed against the wall, body shaking with fear.

Cordelia just rolled her eyes. “Oh please. You sacrifice women to the demon God and a little vampire is supposed to scare you?”

”Little?” Cordelia absently patted Angel’s shoulder to appease him.

But Rebecca looked completely shocked. “I - WHAT?”

--

“Yo man, she can’t do that in here.”

The large black man appeared almost out of nowhere, and Wesley found the shiver running down his spine, yelping when Fred’s roaming hands reached under his belt.

“I- uh…Sorry… I can’t seem to-”

“Come on,” Brian motioned, taking the wobbly Fred by the arm, helping Wesley. “Let’s see if fresh air will do something for her.”

Fred giggled, mumbled something intelligible before slipping, forcing Wesley to wrap his arms around her waist, bringing her soft form closer to him.

Gritting his teeth, he ignored the whispers in the soft southern accent, nodding to the bouncer. “I’m terribly sorry.”

”She’s just drunk, it happens.” Wesley eyes glanced suspiciously toward the cup, but he only swallowed and nodded, following Brian toward the door.

“Perhaps fresh air will do you good, right Fred?”

“Wesley, I love your glasses,” she whispered, and pressed her lips gently against his.

--

“Are you two insane?”

The reaction caught them both off guard, and for a second all three only stared at each other blankly.

“So you’re telling me that the five-plus murders we’ve linked to your club and your Red Roses, you know nothing about?” Cordelia asked skeptically. “Please. I may be half baked but I am still a woman.”

Rebecca’s legs gave out from under her, and Cordelia and Angel followed the movement as she slumped onto the floor.

“I have no idea what the FUCK you are talking about!”

Cordelia suddenly lost all patience. Ignoring the tears, she walked forward, kneeling down and grabbing Rebecca’s wrist, pulling up the sleeve.

She froze, staring down at the tattoo, and her voice seemed very much like a growl as she turned, eyes narrowed down at the vampire who was watching with crossed arms.

“Angel….”

“What?”

She yanked the arm up, showing him the tattoo. “This is a tattoo of a POWER PUFF GIRL.”

Angel paused, suddenly confused. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m SURE.”

Rebecca yanked her arm back, cradling it carefully to her.

“What do you have against the Power Puff Girls?”

--

Donald sighed, wiping the sweat off his forehead with the elegantly tailored handkerchief.

Thank God.

Finally able to breathe, he took in a large breath of air, letting the cool air refresh him, thankful to be rid of the smoke, the shrieks and the noise, at least for now.

Reaching for his keys, he moved to the door of his Cadillac, opening the door, distracted suddenly when two young men and an obviously drunk young woman came around the corner of the club.

Leaning against the car, he observed, shaking his head in disgust before moving forward to intercept them, pulling off his blazer in the process.

--

“It… looked similar.”

Cordelia sighed, running hands through her long extensions, sending Angel a scathing look. “I could kill you right now.”

Angel glared right back at her, and reached into his pocket, kneeling down in front of the very scared, and now it appeared, seemingly innocent, Rebecca.

“Rebecca, I know you’re scared, but I’m not going to hurt you.” Taking out a folded slip of paper, he held it up to the light. “Have you seen anybody wearing something that looks like this?”

Rebecca, sweaty and slouched against the wall, straightened up, leaning forward to inspect it.

“Yeah,” she said finally, grabbing onto Angel’s hand to pull herself up, straightening her suit. “I know whose that is.” She pursed her lips, shaking her head forcefully. “What the hell is going on?”

“Whoever has this tattoo is the one doing the murders,” Cordelia said, leaning against the desk. “We have no time. Who is it?”

Rebecca narrowed her eyes. “Why would Donald murder all these women?”

--

Wesley felt slightly uneasy as the man approached them, on his face an obviously displeased frown.

“I’m terribly sorry, sir-“ he began, but immediately was cut off, as the older man snapped at the young black bouncer.

“This isn’t the one. You KNOW it’s not the one.”

“Yeah, well I didn’t serve her the drink,” Brian snapped back, “You did.”

“I gave it to the right girl.”

“Does this look like the right girl?” Brian asked, motioning to the woman in Wesley’s arms.

The words created an aura of fear inside of Wesley, as he took a breath, suddenly stepping back from the two men.

His eyes roved down to the man who had joined them, and noticed a very similar tattoo on his wrist.

Bloody Hell.

“Fred,” he whispered, stumbling under the elfin girl’s repeated caresses. “Come on…”

She seemed almost completely gone, head lolling back, eyes closing.

Donald turned, inspecting the British man with cold eyes. “Take care of him.”

Brian smiled and Wesley had no time to drop Fred to protect himself when the fist slammed into his face.

Falling back, his head hit the pavement, a large crack splintered into his ear drums, and the world went completely black.

--

There was no time left for stealth as Cordelia rifled through Donald’s files, moving quickly as Rebecca continued her rant.

“So you’re saying he’s been using my club as a front for ritual demon sacrifices?”

At Angel’s harried nod, she sucked in her breath. “The bastard.”

Cordelia only snapped, “Rebecca, we’ll embrace your pain later, okay?”

“Look.” Angel stood, slamming the vault on the desk and with a fist slammed down on top of it, broke the lock.

Rebecca turned, reaching in, pulling out the herbs, the sketches…

“Witchcraft?”

“Oh yeah.”

“I have to check on Fred,” Cordelia said, moving out of the office.

Rebecca sucked in her breath, slamming down the articles and following her. “Damn bastard son of a bitch-“

Angel ignored the stares of the various male strippers, pushing past the crowd in Donald’s doorway.

“That girl looking for the cute little chica that came in with her?”

Angel paused, turning back to Rolando. “Yeah. Where is she?”

“Drunk as hell. Brian and some other guy took her out.”

Angel gave him a dark look, and immediately headed for the doorway.

--
Chapter Ten
--

Charles Gunn’s throat was dry, extremely dry, and no amount of swallowing or licking his lips seemed to moisten the parched mouth.

Kneeling down on the asphalt, he looked in panic over the darkness of the road, and reached back again, bringing his hand in contact with Wesley’s forehead.

This time, the slap was sound. Wesley’s head jerked sideways, and his eyes opened groggily.

Gunn’s heart jolted within him as Wesley moaned. “Wes, man! Wake up, dude.”

Wesley stared up at him blankly, reaching up to position his glasses more firmly against his face. “Gunn?”

Gunn smiled grimly, pressing a hand against his shoulder. “You okay?”

“I … there’s an – Oww…”

Taking Gunn’s offered hand, Wesley pulled himself up, wobbling slightly, reaching up to catch the warm slickness that was trickling over his head.

“Oh… my…”

“Here,” Gunn reached into his pocket, pulling out a wrinkled tissue and pressing it against the wound. “Wesley man, I’m – where’s Fred?”

Fred.

“Good Lord.” Immediately Wesley’s eyes jerked opened and he pushed away, trying to run and found himself slamming into the ground again.

“WESLEY!” Charles’ voice sounded panicked as he came forward, pulling Wesley up against his chest, palm cradling his face. “Come on, man. Shit. You don’t look so good.”

”Gunn, I’m sorry. I tried to save her…” his answer was feeble, and Gunn looked at him blankly.

Charles’ tone was scratchy and hesitant, and incredibly full of fear, “Wesley. Where’s Fred!”

“Wesley!” Charles looked up to find Cordelia, Angel and another dark haired woman in a dark business suit jogging toward them.

“Cordy.”

“What happened to Wesley?” she asked hurriedly, kneeling down to take Wesley’s head into her lap, sucking in her breath when she touched the blood.

“Fred,” Wesley breathed. “They took Fred.”

“Gunn?” Angel asked, kneeling down next to Wesley.

Gunn still had the particular problem of a dry throat, and he swallowed hard, trying to retain enough moisture to speak above the rapidly beating panic of his own heart.

“I don’t know, man. I came by, was gonna try to apologize to Fred,” he waved the flowers that were still clenched in his hand, “And I found Wesley… bleeding and stuff.”

“Plastic flowers,” Wesley muttered, burying his face into Cordelia’s lap. “She likes plastic flowers.”

“Oh, God…” Cordelia carefully turned his head with her fingers. “It’s a pretty hard hit.”

“Dammit.” Angel slammed the glass he was holding into the ground, shattering the tumbler into pieces.

Gunn felt his heart sink. “What happened to Fred?”

“That’s what we’re trying to find out,” Cordelia said, suddenly turning to the woman who was now searching the parking lot, hands on her hips. “Rebecca?”

The young woman turned, shaking her head. “I don’t see his car.”

“He has Fred,” Cordelia breathed, anxiety clouding the hazel of her eyes. “I know it.”

Angel, still kneeling over the broken shards of the glass. “We shouldn’t have left her alone.”

“Angel we had no idea this would happen,” Cordelia said, her voice small.

“We should have known. Some damned detectives we are.”

“I know where he’s going,” Rebecca said, motioning with her hands. “The bastard’s house is so big you could fit a plane in it, and there’s one place he’s never let me go.”

Cordelia and Angel exchanged glances, and the Seer’s shoulders slumped, struggling under Wesley’s weight as she began to rise. “Guys, help me out here.”

Gunn immediately came forward, taking on the burden of Wesley. “Come on, English, lean against me. We’re gonna take care of ya soon.”

“Gunn.” The Ex-Watcher’s hands curled around the lapel of Gunn’s jacket, making the younger man freeze. Wesley’s dark eyes were clouded in pain, but they were sincere. “I’m terribly sorry. I tried to protect her.”

The lump in Gunn’s throat seemed to grow monumentously, and he swallowed it down with effort, heart suddenly giving within him. “’Ain’t your fault man.”

“Gunn-“

“No, listen,” Gunn gripped the sides of his arms almost painfully, but his voice enunciated every word. “It wasn’t your fault. I trust you with her, and if you did everything you can, I believe you.”

Wesley was quiet, the dark eyes bore into his, and slowly he nodded, closing his eyes and slipping again.

--
The beauty behind the simplicity of pi was the utter genius of the less than complicated equation.

Fred blinked at the thought, her mind drowsy as she slowly became alert, trying to understand what it was she had just said.

Eyes drifting open, she stifled a yawn, reaching up to rub at her eyes, only to find she could not, because her hands were bound behind her.

Freezing, the panic came almost automatically, and Winnifred swallowed, jolting her head in various directions in an attempt to get her bearings.

The car ride was smooth, but that was neither comforting nor made the situation any easier, because the two men from the club were watching her with less than gentle eyes.

With a parched mouth, she tried to speak, but found it came out as nothing more than an accented croak. “Umm… hi,” she began nervously.

The headache seemed to come out of nowhere, and Fred winced, clutching her forehead, a low moan of pain escaping her.

The voices drifting around her were disinterested, almost annoyed. “Must have given her too much.”

“Doesn’t matter. We don’t need her healthy. Just alive. For now.”

For some reason he thought it was witty, because there was a low, deep throated laugh that accompanied that statement.

The fear jolted down Fred’s spine in one large shiver, the overwhelming urge to lost control and completely freak out sliding through her simultaneously.

She began to tremble, a sob emerging from her throat.

Attempting to fight the pain long enough to get her bearings, her eyes drifted open, her mind whirling with unanswered questions, instinctively wishing to be in the fairy tale land where Gunn and Angel and Wesley came for her-

Where were they?

The car stopped, jolting her forward, and the door was jerked open, rough hands reaching in and wrapping around her smaller limbs, making her grit her teeth in pain as she tripped on the gravel, stumbling forward, only to be caught gruffly by the tall dark bouncer.

“You got a wimp, Donald.”

Donald was already walking to the door, opening it and stepping forward.

Fred felt tears stinging her face, but still she said nothing, eyes darting around the mansion that loomed dark and deadly before her before she was shoved in.

--

“This is my fault.”

Angel glanced over, saw Cordelia hunched in the corner of the convertible eyes stricken with grief.

“It’s not-“

“What are you talking about? *I* left her alone. *I* said she could come. *I* handed her the drink-“

“That drink was supposed to be for you?” Rebecca interrupted, leaning forward to poke her head between the two seats.

Angel stared at her curiously, and forcing himself to turn his attention back to the road, listened attentively.

Cordelia nodded. “I gave it to her when I asked to talk to you.”

Rebecca Hull clucked at her teeth, eyes lost in thought, reaching for the file and perusing through it. “All the woman that died were newbies. That’s how I didn’t know about them. I just assumed they had left town.”

“Faster, Angel,” Cordelia breathed.

Angel felt the jolt of anger coupled with fear slide into him and he shoved his foot down hard, making the convertible jump forward, accelerate down the highway.

--

“You know you really don’t hafta push.”

That particular statement came after she had been shoved into yet ANOTHER room, the retort coming automatically from her mouth as her irritation at being herded like cattle – she’d had enough of that in Pylea thank you very much- making her stomp her feet as she regained her balance, whirling on the men who were putting on very dark robes.

“I can walk on my own…” the firmness in her tone faded slightly at the sight of the knife that gleamed in the candles, and Fred clenched her fists, ever mindful of the headache that refused to go away, the wobbly knees, the nausea that all pointed toward some kind of drugging.

The room was dark, dank… uninviting, reminding Fred of the dreaded rooms in the Pylean dungeon she had worked so hard to stay out of when she got lost.

She was lost again.

Oh, God, she was lost again.

Her breath constricted and the tears welled up, and barely able to catch herself, she brought her palm up, biting down on the meaty portion in an effort to stop it.

Cordelia had told her, if she was ever in this situation, to stave.

Cordelia knew how to stave.

God, she should have really paid more attention to Cordelia’s lectures about staving.

The statue at the altar was surprisingly small, a young, hunched over demon with wings that looked like a demented gargoyle.

Fred squinted, jerking her eyes back to the circle of men who waited expectantly.

“Ummm…. So… hello…” she managed nervously, giving them a little wave.

Donald came forward, sliding on a black robe, glancing at her impatiently. “Well?”

For some reason she got the distinct impression that he was expecting her to do something.

“Well what?” she asked nervously, trying to hear above her rapidly beating heart.

“Get on with the begging and pleading and crying,” he said, mimicking some poor girl’s cries as he rolled his eyes, crossing his arms. “So we can get on with it.”

“Oh.” Fred paused, blinking, and rubbed at her forearms insecurely. “I’m afraid I don’t understand.”

He stared at her blankly.

“For your life. We’re going to rape and kill you.”

“Oh. Well… that doesn’t… sound pleasant…” she muttered, stepping backwards nervously, closer to the ugly statue.

Donald’s mouth dropped slightly at the uncharacteristic reaction, and he gave a puzzled look to his compatriots, before turning back to Fred. “This is the part where they usually scream and beg for their lives.”

“Oh. OH. Well I hate to be a disappointment, but this ain’t exactly new,” she remarked, shrugging haphazardly, eyes shifting again around the room.

Cordelia said that in order to stave you had to keep them occupied.

Fred’s own logic concurred, and she found herself pausing, reflecting on the wonder where Cordelia’s common sense and her own logic seemed … to mesh.

Despite the incredibly dire circumstances and her own impending death, she felt a smirk climb onto her face.

“Umm… I think she’s smiling,” Brian offered, leaning against the back wall.

Fred immediately straightened her face. “Sorry,” she remarked. Continuing to back away, she murmured, “Umm… Ah really don’t think you want to do this. Ah mean… my boyfriend and my friends won’t take too kindly to you rapin’ me and-“

“Boyfriend?” Donald spit the word out, almost disgusted. “What kinda of man wants a bitch like you?”

She blinked, startled by the insult. “Huh? Hey!”

The chanting began, words that she recognized, absently translating while Donald began to speak, coming forward.

To you we come, great Cosmos-

“Women these days. They have… absolutely no morals,” he began, shaking his head. “No respect for their own chastity. Whores… willing to pay for a man to invade them-“

“I haven’t paid anyone to…” Fred trailed off, deciding to let the insult slide, as she continued her retreat backwards, eyes frantically searching the room for any escape.

Of course, there was none.

He whom understands our laws, our natures, we come to you now with our most precious sacrifice.

“He’s going to set it right.”

The loins from which we have been borne-

Uh-oh. Fred swallowed, looking back and finding the silly looking statue’s eyes beginning to glow.

Okay… good time to panic.

--

The convertible swerved, the gravel splattering, the truck slamming into a stop right behind them.

Immediately four doors swung open and the vampire, the muscle, the brains and the heart all stepped out, slamming doors simultaneously and walking to the gate.

“HEY!”

Cordelia turned back, suddenly realizing she had locked the pimp in the car.

“Sorry.” Rebecca only rolled her eyes, opening the door and coming up to meet them.

Angel pursed his lips, eyes shifting over the metal gate that kept them from going any further.

Gunn stepped forward, movements nervous and shifty as he tugged on the gates, eyes dangerously wild.

”FUCK!” he growled, kicking at the gates.

“Gunn,” Cordelia stepped forward, her voice soft, but the man only shook her off, staring at the barrier with moistened eyes.

“We can’t be too late,” he muttered hoarsely.

“We won’t be,” Wesley said, his voice firm, despite the pained expression on his face. “We’ll pick the lock if we have to.”

The vampire had said nothing during all of this, but he startled the Seer standing next to him when he launched up the twenty foot tall gated fence, and vaulted to the other side, running up into the driveway.

“Uhh… that’s new…” she muttered.

“Bloody hate when he does that,” Wesley muttered.

“What about the rest of us?” Gunn asked angrily.

Creaking rust filled their ears as the gate suddenly began to move, opening before them.

Stunned, Cordelia suddenly remembered Rebecca, who was holding up her key card, shaking her head in pity. “You guys always do things the hard way?”

Gunn didn’t answer, instead he and Wesley were the first to run after Angel.

Cordelia paused only to say a frenzied prayer for Fred, refusing to let the guilt seep through her for fear it would paralyze her.

She had told Fred she would have been safe with her. Had told her that long ago.

What a freakin’ joke that was.

--

The chanting was louder now, almost in sync with the furious pace of Fred’s heartbeat, which thumped, thumped, louder and louder until it was drumming into her ear drums.

“Don’t you think we’re rushing things a bit?” she stammered, keeping her backwards pacing. “I mean we hardly even know each other-“

“I don’t need to know anything about you,” Donald said methodically, coming forward, hands crossed behind his back. “Everything is written in your face. Just like all the others.”

“My…” Fred’s hands rose to her face self consciously, before she felt the jolt of anger that felt actually good instead of the fear, and seized that instead. “I’m not… I’m FRED. Gunn says that’s all I need to BE!” Her hands waved wildly, and when Donald’s face suddenly contorted in fear, Fred realized just how close to the statue she was.

Her hand knocked the thing over, and the room was filled with male voices gone shrill when the thing teetered, and almost in slow motion, crashed to the floor… splintering into the pieces.

The room was dead silent, and Fred, suddenly sheepish, nudged at the pieces with her heel clad feet, managing an embarrassed smile.

“Oops?”

--

Angel stumbled in through the open door, pausing long enough to morph into the demonic face, sniff the air, and suddenly growl, launching into the direction that held Fred’s scent.

Charles Gunn was never more glad that Angel was a vampire than at that moment, as he pumped his legs, barely managing to keep the vamp in sight as Angel continued to run.

Every fiber of his being was suddenly consumed with overwhelming emotion, and Gunn felt the strong resonating in his head, “Not Fred, not Fred… not Fred too…”

It echoed, splintered into his head and it made his vision blur, which he tried to correct by wiping rough sleeves on his face in an attempt to get the tears off, and it made him allow one soft wrench from his body.

He was scared shitless.

And damn… if Angel could find Fred, if they could save Fred and Angel helped him, Gunn would take it all back and make Angel a damned blood brother.

The homeboy could have Gunn’s Type B for dinner.

Just as long as Fred was safe.

--

Cordelia had long since abandoned the heels, as she and Rebecca Hull brought up the rear, attempting to keep up, following the vampire and the rest of the Fang Gang down the stairs as quickly as they could.

“Wait.” Rebecca paused, and suddenly yanked Cordelia’s arm, pulling her to the side and slamming her hand on a button. “Elevator,” she explained.

Cordelia considered telling Rebecca to take her elevator and shove it, but her feet were already blistered from the gravel, and not wanting to think about the pedicure bills, she let the doors open, slipping into it with Rebecca, who slammed her hand down again on the ‘down’ button.

“So…” Rebecca asked in the silence that followed. “Do this a lot?”

“No. Usually I’m the one being sacrificed,” Cordelia muttered, tapping her feet as she waited impatiently, seconds ticking away… and time was so important right now- it was so damn important.

But one lingering thought nagged her.

“Why on EARTH do you have a POWER PUFF tattoo?!”

Rebecca gave her an arched eyebrow, but she had no time to explain, as the elevator drifted to a stop and the doors swung open.

--

“YOU BROKE IT!” Donald ran past her, swinging a heavy arm in her direction that she managed to avoid… mostly, making her stumble back as he knelt beside the fallen idol, gathering the pieces lovingly, voice hiccupping.

“I said I was sorry.”

“Kill her-“

“Fred you broke the statue?”

The familiar voice caused such a jolt in Fred’s heart that she almost couldn’t breath for relief, as her head whipped to the side to catch Cordelia walking into the room, that scary Pimpy Girl behind her.

“Cordelia!” she cried in relief.

“Donald!” Rebecca stalked into the room, eyes glinting with rage. “May I have a word?”

A loud crash made the candles flicker, Fred jumped and immediately Cordelia was thrown back by a robed man, but it was okay.

Because Angel and Wesley and Gunn ran into the room.

“The staving works…” Fred found herself wondering out loud.

Angel wore the demonic face with a smile, as he singled out the large black man, back handing another who dared to come close and pointing a finger.

”BRIAN! JUST who I wanted to see!”

“Cordelia!”

The young Seer ducked under a punch and delivered one of her own, making the man swivel and land into Wesley’s waiting fists.

Fred stood, hands at her sides as she awkwardly stared at Charles.

“Charles!” she found herself suddenly breaking forward.

Gunn’s eyes were so incredibly dark, so intense as he came forward, suddenly on his knees in front of her. “Fred baby, I’m sorry.”

Fred blinked, eyes shifting over her shoulder.

“Umm… Gunn…”

“I know you’ve got every reason to be mad at me, but I care about you, girl, and-“

“Charles…”

“I want to make it up to you, baby, I do-“

“GUNN!” Fred pressed her fingers into his shoulders, making him pause. “Behind you!”

Whipping his head around, she caught the tail end of his “Whoa” before he leaped up and pushed her out of the way, catching the ax handle that came down with his bare hands and kicking the assailant hard in his stomach, bringing the man to his knees.

Fred looked around wildly, finally grabbed the largest piece of the broken idol and slammed it down on the man’s head.

He fell without further protest.

She found herself staring at Charles in awkward silence.

“Are you…” Her knees suddenly gave way, and in a flash he was there, big comfy and oh so strong Gunn, who gathered her up into his arms and held her close, palms gentle as he caressed her hair.

She closed her eyes, shuddering against him and holding him close, breathing in a whiff of the masculine smell she had come to adore.

“You okay?”

“Umm… Post trauma,” she whispered. “Shock maybe… I’ll be fine… if my heart ever insists on beatin’ regularly.”

The noise around them seemed to filter out as he stared at her, fingers caressing the tip of her jaw, a smirk quirking on his lips. “Yeah I can feel it.”

She paused, suddenly aware, so very aware of his large masculine frame, of the way her fingers clutched at the shirt of his… and the fact she was supposed to be mad at him.

“Look… Gunn…”

”Wait… before you say anything…” Gunn took a breath, looking nervous and tired, and surprised, Fred waited, unsure of what to expect.  “I… look Fred… I’m no good for you. I know that okay? I’m afraid that … one day you’ll figure out that you’re better off with anybody else… but… I need you. I came in here trying to rescue you and shit but… that ain’t what’s happening Fred. Truth is… I need you to rescue me.”

Charles wasn’t an eloquent speaker, but Fred marveled at his words, knowing he couldn’t have said anything more perfect had he been Voltaire himself.

The smile that slid onto her face was genuine, the lump in her throat quite uncomfortable, but there was no ache, or pain…

There was no fear.

“I’m sorry I yelled at you.”

The words came out edged in soft, meek, but gentle caring, and he blinked, at first not understanding, but when her smile grew wider, he suddenly felt the need to smile back, and Fred guessed they looked pretty silly there smiling like that at each other.

His lips were gentle, and she sighed into his caress, lips feather soft against his, only to be jolted out of the make up by the growl that could have only come from Angel.

Heads inching apart, Fred blinked when she realized she had missed the entire action sequence.

Angel now stood over the fallen tall bouncer, a proud expression on his face.

His leg reached back, as if to kick him once more, but Cordelia stopped him, pulling him back.

“HEY! Dork. He’s down.”

“Cordelia, stay out of this.”

“Right cause THAT works every time you say it. Listen Angel-“

“Why do you always have to ignore everything I say? This guy needs a lesson-“

“You broke out all his teeth! Don’t you think that’s enough? Let the police take the rest!”

“Cordelia he was about to sacrifice Fred!”

Cordelia paused, the hazel eyes conflicted as her gaze flickered to Fred. Leaning her head against Gunn’s chest, Fred only offered her a soft smile.

With a grunt, Cordelia whirled and kicked Brian herself.

“There.”

“Fred.” Gunn squeezed her shoulders, and motioned.

Turning, all five members of Angel Investigations watched in open admiration as Rebecca sat on Donald, slamming fist after fist into his face.

“Damn. Pimp Girl belongs on the ring.”

“Take THAT YOU BIG MOUTHED CHEATING BASTARD-“

Wesley Wyndham Price’s head was aching, his heart was softly beating, but also held the curious ache as he leaned against the wall, looking across the room to the litter of fallen men and the standing compatriots.

He wasn’t quite sure what he was thinking, as he held the blood soaked handkerchief on his head, but he was aware of one simple thing that gave the old soul some resemblance of hope.

On his face, with no prodding at all, was a smile.

-
Chapter Eleven

The sirens that had previously cut through the night were now silent, leaving only the red and white beams that swiveled off the courtyard, from the lights atop the various police cars that were now parked in odd positions surrounding the mansion.

Crowded around the house, officers in blue suits stood, some taking notes, others talking in low voices to the various ‘witnesses’, all of whom seemed to give conflicting stories.

Away from the limelight, the small crowd of Angel Investigations watched, Cordelia and Angel perched on the hood of the black convertible, the rest sitting around the truck, from further down the hill, as a dazed and beaten Donald was thrust into the back of one car, the door slammed in his face.

Rebecca Hull snorted, jerking the lighted cigarette from her mouth and blowing the smoke in the demon worshiper’s direction. “I hope he gets puts away for a long time and becomes some jack ass’s bitch.”

Fred’s cheeks warmed red, but Cordelia, swinging her legs over the car, only shot her a look. “You’re not the least worried that he’ll snitch on the whole prostitution gig you’ve got going?”

The business strip club owner gave another disaffected shrug, taking another long drag of her cigarette before she tossed it on the floor, letting it grind on the gravel under her feet. “I’ve got a shit load of lawyers, and half the cops know what I do anyway. As long as it’s in the house and my bank accounts remain Swiss I’m covered.”

Angel gave Cordelia a smile and Cordelia rolled her eyes.

“There’s still a couple things I don’t understand,” Fred said, eyes shifting between the couple on the convertible, the man in whose embrace she was keeping warm and the Englishman leaning on the truck next to them. “What’s the click?”

Everyone turned to look at Wesley, and the Englishman, a band-aid now pressed securely against the wound on his forehead, stood, balancing against the truck for support.

“Your pondering is as good as ours, Fred. Lucky guess? Rebecca, obviously was not responsible for the deaths.”

“Yeah, glad you smarties figured THAT out,” she muttered.

Cordelia thwapped her upside the head.

“HEY!”

“Donald’s been responsible the whole time,” she mused, ignoring Rebecca’s glare.

“Based on what we know, Jennifer must have found out what was happening under Rebecca’s nose by Jessie. He must have been involved some how.”

“And Donald found out, of course,” Wesley breathed, eyes glinting.

“And the tape?”

“An excuse, I’m guessing,” Cordelia inferred, drawing her legs up to her chest, hugging them to her, shivering slightly from the cold.

Angel noticed the faint shiver, and immediately shrugged off the leather jacket, placing it on her shoulders.

“Donald did invite her to the house once,” Rebecca said, lighting another cigarette. “Said it was a birthday present. Paid for her and everything.”

“And when they had that, it was either shut up or put up,” Gunn said, “before they got Jesse and her,” he mimicked the action of a gun shooting with this thumb and forefinger.

“So Jennifer was killed to be silenced,” Fred said softly, her tone distracted as she frowned, eyes downcast. “Click.”

A small sliver of silence floated over the group, before Wesley pushed away from the car, and Fred yawned.

“I better get her home,” Gunn said, sliding off the truck. “She needs to sleep, and Cordy, maybe you should take a look at Wes’s head.”

“Good idea,” she said, nodding, wrapping herself tighter in Angel’s leather jacket, breathing in the smell, the sense of closure slipping over her disconcerting.

As he reached forward, gently helped her off the car, their eyes met, and in the brown intensity she saw pure emotion, regard and affection that made her breathless.

She took a breath in, gave him her best ‘sisterly’ smile and squeezed his forearm, shrugging off his jacket and placing it in her place.

“Thanks,” she said with a smile.

Rebecca stood about ten feet away, cocking her head. “Cordelia, right?”

Distracted from the frown that pulled Angel’s mouth down into a pout, Cordelia nodded.

Rebecca jerked her head in one smooth motion. “Walk me to my car.”

“Isn’t that Donald’s?”

“I have keys. I co-signed. It’s my freaking car.”

“Oh-kay.”

Gunn started the truck up, waving to the group remaining, letting Fred lean on his shoulder.

“See ya at the hotel,” Fred muttered sleepily.

Cordelia waved back, turned back to Angel. “I’ll be right back.”

Angel said nothing, but his eyes continued to bore into hers, and she gave him a shaky smile, never leaving his gaze as she reached over and pulled Wesley toward her. “Advil,” she said, pressing it into his fingers. “Vision Girl never leaves home without them.”

He gave her a grin and she smoothed a hand up the Watcher’s cheek, before turning and walking with Rebecca to Donald’s corvette ten feet away.

“Just had a question,” Rebecca began. The expression on her face made Cordelia pause curiously. The business woman looked almost… nervous. “I umm… I never made a secret over the fact that I kinda … had a crush on you…”

“Ah…” Cordelia crossed her arms, stepped back, realized what she was doing, and stepped forward again, plastering on a grim smile. “I … yeah, … the hand repeatedly on my thigh was a pretty good indication…”

”Right…” Rebecca wiped her bangs back, blowing her breath out… “But I also thought… you were pretty cool… so… I just… I… wanna stay friends.”

“Rebecca.”

“Yeah.”

“You know I don’t swing that way, right?”

Rebecca grinned. “Never say never, and yes,” she said before Cordelia could protest. “I kinda figured about you and Angel.”

“Oh. Well… yeah.” Cordelia gave a half hearted grin, massaging at her neck. “He’s really pissed you fired him.”

The brought out a peal of laughter from Rebecca and Cordelia joined in, laughing as she looked back to the vampire who stood waiting by his car.

At its end, Rebecca was still staring at her, and Cordelia straightened the grin out, letting out a sigh. “Well… I don’t really … endorse prostitution, Rebecca… and as a detective… I can look the other way but-“

“Doesn’t mix right.” Rebecca nodded, blushing before vaulting away from the car. “Just a thought.”

“It was a good one. If you ever… get away from that… give me a call.”

Rebecca paused, hand poised on the handle of her car. “How about I just lie about it?”

Cordelia rolled her eyes. “GoodBYE Rebecca.”

Rebecca grinned, pulling open the car door.

“So hey.” Rebecca paused, inclining her head. “You ever going to explain what’s up with the tattoo?”

Her eyes drifted down to her wrist, wrapping her other hand around it fondly, shrugging. “Some things in life you just can’t explain, Cordelia. They just… are.”  When Cordelia arched a skeptical eyebrow, Rebecca added, “The Power Puff Girls are role models. They symbolize what we as women, as children should aspire to be.”

There was only so much bullshit Cordelia could take.

“Got drunk one night watching the Cartoon Network with a tattoo buddy?” Cordelia asked flatly asked.

“Pretty much.”

Cordelia nodded, and Rebecca gave her one last grin before she slid into her car and shut the door.

As the car started, Cordelia shook her head, and walked away, towards the vampire and the Watcher who were still waiting.

She really wanted to go home.

--

Cordelia was right, he really was picking up Angel’s bad habits a little too well.

Wesley stood in front of the mirror, breathing out as he pulled on the jacket, smoothing down his hair, feeling nervous as hell and unsure why he was doing this at all.

Face the past.

Lorne had said it.

And Wesley had run long enough.

The knock on the door interrupted his self speculation, and almost grateful, he moved to the door, faltering when he found Fred standing nervously in the hallway, throwing him one of her cute little trademark half smiles.

“Hey.”

“Fred.”

“You look better.”

“So do you.”  She did look better. Dressed in a summer dress, her hair let loose in curls, the small frames tinting her eyes, making them glint, the smile accenting the rosy cheeks, she still made Wesley’s breath catch.

Beautiful little Fred.

“And Gunn?”

Fred crossed her arms, smirking just a little as she remarked, “He’s downstairs in the car. He would have come up but he wanted to give us some time alone. Something about respecting us and trustin’ us.”

Wesley felt a slow, small smile creep up on his face.

“He’s been big on the trust issue lately,” Fred said, nodding. “It’s getting a little annoying.”

Wesley chuckled.

“Are ya busy?”

The hesitant tone made him pause, and he looked back, shifting his feet. “I… nothing that can’t wait. What can I do for you?”

She stepped into the apartment, hands fiddling nervously with each other before she turned, taking in a breath. “I was wondering whether or not to leave well enough alone, ‘cause … I know how things can fester and… if you don’t talk about it… or you know… write on walls… once in a while these things can build and before you know you’re calculatin’ pi in the middle of a train station where not even the homeless guy who smells will sit next to ya – so I’m gonna get to the point.”

He was silent.

She took a nervous breath, and licked her lips, and finally burst with “Wesley… I know about… your feelins  for me.”

His heart jolted, squealed and then dropped into the pit of his stomach, and Wesley froze, found the lump that came inexplicably to his throat allowed nothing more than, “Ah.”

“Ah… was thinkin’… and it’s almost funny how … you know with Angel and Cordy and me and now it’s me and you and Gunn and it’s me who’s Angel and Cordy’s who’s Gunn and you whose me and while I was thinkin’ that I thought maybe if you were as screwed as me… then … maybe you might need help.”

On anyone else, the choice of words would have been a very malformed insult. On Fred’s face, brown eyes flecked with concern and her body shifting nervously, it was the truest act of friendship.

And that was all.

He took a heavy breath, removing his glasses, reducing her form to a blur, and wiped them slowly.

“I was hoping you wouldn’t find out.”

“Wesley’s it’s okay. Ah mean… “

“Fred, it’s not appropriate…”

“What and Gunn pawin’ me in the lobby is? And Cordelia and Angel’s moira issues in the trainin’ sessions? That’s appropriate? And what about how Cordy dresses some times? Lahk that mini skirt that one time my parents came? My mother almost put out a ruler!”

“I get the point, Fred,” He said, a smile coming to his face at Fred’s flustered mannerisms.

She blew out a long sigh, pushing her bangs away from her face and stepping forward, the light spray of the body wash floating toward him. “I don’t think you do, Wesley. You’re stronger that you give yourself credit for. And maybe that’s your problem. You don’t believe it. So many people have let you down and it hurt you so badly that… you can’t do that to any of us. You’re scared of it, and that’s okay.” Her hand reached up to cup his face, and his eyes closed, reaching up to pull her hand away.

“Fred,” he began, his voice gruff. “I appreciate your attempts. SO much. But… because of the nature of my feelings… I’m afraid you can’t help.”

She looked almost hurt by that, but she seemed to understand, because even as her hands tangled together, she stepped back, giving him space.

“Okay. I can respect that. If you get…”

“I know,” he said, smiling gently. “And believe me, I think the worst is over.”

She grinned. “That’s good to know.”

A moment of weakness pervaded Wesley, and he found himself muttering, “If… Gunn hadn’t asked you first…NO-“ he immediately blanched at the surprised look on her face, and he shook his head, laughing nervously, “Please don’t answer that.”

“Right… ‘cause… I can’t. I am with Gunn… and I like him. A lot.”

Wesley let out a breath, breathing it back in and the smile he gave her was sincere. “And you work for each other.”

The hesitant knock at the doorway distracted them both, and Gunn looked almost scared to walk in.

“This ain’t about not respectin’ or trustin’ or anything… hey Wes.”

Wesley smiled back, reaching forward to give the other man a long over due hug.

“Right! We should get going,” Fred nodded, moving to the doorway.

“We’re gonna go to Lorne’s,” Gunn said, motioning with his head. “Wanna come?”

Wesley was silent, processing the information, mind suddenly working.

“No,” he said after a minute. “No thank you.”

“We’d like you to come, Wesley.”

Wesley gave Fred a smile. “Raincheck for tomorrow?” he suggested. “There’s somewhere I have to be.”

The pair glanced at each other, then back at him, and finally nodded.

“See you tomorrow, dog.” Taking Fred’s smaller hand in his, the large man led his prized girl away from the door, both offering Wesley affectionate smiles.

As they left, Wesley wondered if Fred had had her desired affect.

Despite the fact that he was left by himself in the apartment, Wesley, for the first time in a long time, did not feel alone.

--

She swung carefully, every muscle working, shifting, the gleam of the sword matching the twinkle in her eye as she continued the movement, landing in an en guarde position, body straight.

“Good.”

She nodded, panting slightly, reaching up to brush her infuriating bangs off her face before turning back to Angel, who now began to mimic her movements, the pair carefully continuing the planned moves.

Silence was precious in these moments, as they continued the simple, but powerful arcs, thrusts, and parries in synchronous motion, Cordelia’s breathing even, slow.

Her focus was not just on herself but on her partner, as they continued to move, eyes shifting, mentally keeping the beats to make sure she was constantly in sync with him.

At the end of the fifth set, Angel smiled at her, picking up the sticks and tossing one to her.

“Remember what I told you about this,” he said, coming behind her, making sure her stick was in the right position.

But it wasn’t the same. His chest brushed against her back, his arms encircled her loosely and her focus was immediately on his warm musky scent, on the brush of the sweater encased arms, on the tingle of her skin when his cheek brushed against hers for the scantest of seconds.

Her eyes closed and she shuddered.

He froze, pulling away, walking to retrieve his own stick as he asked flatly, “Something wrong?”

“Yeah. It’s not the same.”

He paused, and this time Angel’s carefully constructed face of indifference gave way to something much more vulnerable, delicate… intense.

“No, it’s not.”

“We can’t go back, can we?”

He paused, hesitated, and then slowly shook his head no.

Despite the somberness of the nature of the conversation, there was something utterly refreshing about the blatant honesty of it all.

Finally able to breathe easily, she crossed her arms awkwardly, watching him. “So… if we can’t… go back…”

“Cordelia I don’t know about staying in the same place…. That’s not possible.”

“Yeah.” She closed her eyes, heaving a dark sigh. “Angel,” she began heavily. “You know why-“

“I know.” His voice was constricted.

“I mean how long do you think we’d actually go before-“

“Not long.”

It was an impossible situation, and they both knew it. Cordelia let the stick drop, hanging her head in resignation, “And after this conversation… we can’t… ever mention this again until… certain… rules are fixed…”

“And if I find- if I’m able to-“

Cordelia gave him a grin. “Angel I told you I’d be here…” she trailed off, memories of agonies and pain sliding over her body and she briefly wondered whether she would in fact be able to keep that promise.

To hell with that. She would do her damndest.

He came forward, seeing her confliction, and tipping her chin up, he gazed into her eyes, making her very soul shudder for contact.

“I’ll find a way.”

She didn’t dare hope to believe him, but she let a hand gently caress his cheek anyway, gracing him with a beautiful smile that made him smile back.

She loved it when he smiled.

A thought crossed her mind and she found herself laughing out loud.

The smile on Angel’s face faltered with confusion. “What?”

“Just thinking. The big deal that everyone made about you being a stripper and you never stripped once.”

He froze, eyes narrowing. “Oh yeah.” She giggled as he pondered that. “Kinda disappointed now. Rebecca fired me before I could.”

“Yeah, well, to be honest, I’m kinda glad.”  He quirked an eyebrow curiously. “You really think I’d let a bunch of hormone crazed sluts drool all over you?”

“And if it had just been you?”

The words made her pause, and with a devilish grin that seemed a little too close to Angelus for comfort, he squeezed her hands, let her go and walked to the tape recorder, sorting through the CD’s.

She waited, breath constricting slightly as a sensous beat pounded into the room and Angel turned, gyrating his hips in an almost exaggerated fashion.

Cordelia clasped her hands to her mouth and laughed, suddenly delirously happy and helpless as the vampire reached for his shirt, peeling it off and tossing it.

It landed on her head. Pulling it off, she saw him reaching for his belt, and for once, Cordelia didn’t stop it.

When the belt dropped, she only raised an eyebrow, and trying her damndest to be disaffected, she reached for her tank top, peeling it off, and tossing it on top.

Angel’s mouth dropped, his eyes no longer on her face, and she grinned, crossing her arms, perfectly willing to play.

“Go on.”

“Uhhh….”

“Here… I’ll help.” He gasped as her fingers jerked the zipper down in less than a second, finger nails underneath his waistband. “Damn. I’m getting good at that.”

“A little too good.” The sensuality of the vampire was blatant as he gave her his trademark vampire smile, sliding hands down her shoulders, past the tight, small sports bra, and cupping her butt, bringing her closer.

Brown eyes met hazel, and suddenly the laughter was gone, realization sliding through both vampire and seer.

This was all they would have.

Cordelia’s eyes closed as she leaned forward, pressing her lips against his chest before leaning her cheek against it, feeling him hold her tightly around the shoulders as they began to dance, never letting each other go.

And when one hand gently tilted her chin up, Cordelia allowed the kiss, her lips moving against his, eyes kept closed, as they kept moving to the haunting beat.

It was the last dance.

And the beginning of waiting forever.

Odd, she thought, as her fingers entangled themselves in the nape of his neck and her tongue gently brushed against his teeth. It didn’t seem that long.

“I still think you didn’t fake.”

“ANGEL!”

--

He was putting the finishing touches on the brand new display when the door chime made him turn, and Gunn was unceremoniously pushed into the room, followed by Fred.

Irritation swelled through him, and Lorne crossed his arms, clearing his throat. “We’re closed. But… maybe you know that.”

Gunn was quiet, letting his breath out and then glancing back at his girlfriend.

She gave him a furious nod.

Turning back, he shifted his feet. “I’m sorry.”

“For what? Destroying my club? Letting my clientele get massacred?”

“See? I knew he’d be like this-“ Gunn flushed, moving back only to be pushed forward again by Fred.

“You knew it wasn’t going to be easy, Charles.”

“That’s right!” Lorne said indignantly. “I want groveling! I want knees, buster! I want hysterics and pleading and that’s right! Professional mourners might just do!”

“How about the latest Cher doll?” Charles said.

Lorne’s jaw dropped. “With the sequined gown?”

Reaching into the bag he had brought with him, Charles grinned. “Yup. AND! The FULL set of the Wizard of Oz Barbie collection.”

“Oooh. Gimme!” Lorne rushed forward, grabbing the back and sifting through the treasures.

He paused, the smile freezing at the hopeful look on Gunn’s face making him say coldly, “It’s a start.”

Fred’s smile faltered, but Gunn only stuck his hands in his pockets and said seriously, “I can’t repay or buy back what happened here, Lorne. But as a friend, I’m… beggin’ you to let me at least… try to make it up to you. Let me be a friend… at least jazz this place up a little.”

Lorne was quiet, shame flooding through him as he resisted the urge to see if Dorothy had come with the talking Toto. “Well…”

“Make him sing,” Fred whispered.

Gunn shot her a warning glare, and Lorne grinned. “Perfect. I think… something of the Julie Andrews Victor/Victoria era.”

Gunn visibly blanched, but trudged obediently to the remodeled stage. “Payback’s a bitch,” he muttered.

Fred grinned, and blew him an air kiss and when Lorne sat on the floor with his set of dolls, he found himself smiling.

Ah… what the hell. Julie wasn’t so bad. Hell… he thought, as the opening bars of music floated through the club, maybe I’ll even juggle something.

--

She was incredibly tired of blue.

Faith had gained a new tattoo, a grimace, and longer hair in her time in prison, and it was almost disgusting how the news of a visitor always brought a jolt to her heart.

Angel used to come regularly. For a long time he was the only one.

He stopped coming a while ago… when he reappeared later, he had told her he had had some problems.

It was then that she realized that Angel’s feelings for the Queen C stemmed above friendship, as he proceeded to whine to her for over an hour about Cordelia’s hostility to him, and even as her own heart was sinking, Faith proceeded to almost knock him over the head.

Apparently the suggestion of the clothes buying had been a big hit.

But the warden had told her it wasn’t Angel waiting to speak to her.

And Faith, now older, still burdened with guilt and at times bored silly in the pen, had no idea who it could be.

Turning the corner, she caught sight of the man waiting and Faith stopped, her stomach sinking.

Memories of what she did through him renewed themselves fresh in her mind.

She had tortured him. Endlessly.

She stopped, considered telling the warden to just take her back, not wanting to face him, or the pain seeing him caused, but it was too late, he had already seen her, standing up like the stupid old English gentlemen he was, waiting for her to come forward.

Wesley was wearing slacks, his hair was longer, and as she came forward, she noticed something that the glasses did not hide.

The body was more muscular, more graceful, and his eyes were harder, more grief stricken than before.

For some reason that affected her, made her swallow down the pain as she stopped, looked through the glass, looking directly at him.

He said nothing at first, only gave her a slight nod, a small smile and then lowered himself to the seat.

What the hell was he doing here?

Unsure, she sat down.

He reached for the phone, and heart still in her throat, she found herself searching his face as she did the same, wondering if she had left scars.

The plastic against her ear made her cringe, but the English voice that came through it was soft, without pretension.

“Hello, Faith.”

“What are you doing here, Wesley?” she asked flatly.

“I wanted to see how you were?”

She raised a skeptical eyebrow, shifting in her seat. “Wesley in case you forget I tortured you and you kind of hate me.”

The sadness that flickered in his eyes was not the appropriate response, not the one she was expecting, anyway. Instead of making him leave, he only sat, completely silent, staring at him with those damned disconcerting eyes of his.

When did he get so intense?

“When I was five my father locked me in my closet,” he began, and startled, her hand bearing the phone wavered, the voice coming through clear but … shaking. “I was afraid of the dark, you see, and my father simply could not tolerate a son of his being so wimpy as to be afraid of the dark. I was pushed into the closet and made to stay there for two days, until my mother finally let me out.”  Faith narrowed her eyes, her mouth pursed. “When I was ten I lost the fencing championship for my age group. My father told me I had lost it for him. I had shamed the family, and for a year I was made to go to school, come home, and study nothing but fencing. I have not touched a fencing sword since.”

“Wesley,” she interrupted, now completely bewildered, not only at the words that were streaming from his mouth, but also at the no-nonsense tone he was using, “Why the fuck are you giving me a heart to heart?”

He paused.

Her words came out edged in anger, as Faith knew little else, and found, true to her therapist words, she lashed when she felt cornered. “Because you failed? Again? With me? You see yourself in me, Wes? Afraid some of that wacko shit might rub off?”

“No,” he responded, never flinching behind her words, and the soft tone again made her pause, stare at him as if she was seeing a stranger. “I was never afraid of you, Faith. I was afraid for you. I was more afraid of my own failure, too absorbed in proving my father wrong, in proving everyone wrong to give a damn about you. And for that… I apologize. As a Watcher, I did indeed fail, when I cared more about myself than you. You needed someone. I was the least fit.”

As the words poured from his mouth, she found her vision blurring, and feeling the sobs coming, Faith almost yanked the phone away from her ear, but his eyes, dark and vivid and mesmerizing, kept her pinned.

“I’m here, and I do not deserve to be here, Faith. Once again I come to you out of my own selfish need.”

Her throat parched, she found her usual witty response dried up with it, and she shrugged, “Hey… whatever works.”

“I would like to… visit you regularly. Perhaps talk. You about the things you never wanted to face, me about mine… perhaps work through them together.”

Something flitted into the pit of her stomach, something that felt strangely like hope, and Faith fought it, not wanting to believe herself so fragile to be swayed by anything wimp Wesley could say.

“And why this sudden need to bond?” she said hotly.

“I need someone, Faith. And… perhaps you might need someone as well. Perhaps I might understand when no one else, not even Angel truly does.”

Silence was met with resolve, and Faith contemplated a number of responses, telling him to take the truth and shove it, getting up and stalking away for a more dramatic exit, trying to will the hate back…

But the bastard was stronger than she gave him credit for, because her heart trembled and her body reacted, and she had to look away.

Her fingers were now nervously fidgeting in her lap, and he sat all this time, so patiently.

He needed her, huh? That was a new concept.

Gathering her courage, she looked up again.

“So how is the Dark Avenger, anyway?” she asked.

When he stared, she smiled, slow and steady, and studying the response, he suddenly smiled back, and Faith felt her heart begin to beat, louder…

It was the first time in a while she had been aware of her beating heart.

“Fine. He’s a stripper. Or was, actually. He got fired.”

“FIRED?! STRIPPER?!” Faith let out an astonished chuckle, leaning forward. “This I got to hear.”

Wesley grinned, leaning forward. “It’s quite an interesting story.”

“I’m all ears.”

He began to talk, and Faith began to laugh, interrupting him with curious questions, catching up.

And when he laughed, it warmed her.

Studying him, she could think of worse ways to spend a Sunday afternoon.

She would have to do this again.

Soon.

FIN

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