Enemies

Author: Ares

PG13

Characters: Angel, Connor, Gunn, Gwen, Lorne, OCs.

Disclaimer: Not mine.

 

And thank you ever so much to Jo for reading and pointing out the error of my ways.

 

Summary: Angel has a price on his head. Can the team of Angel Investigations save him before it’s too late?

 

**

 

Enemies

 

 

He could hear them outside his door. One would think, working for a vampire, his team would remember his vampire abilities. The hearing thing would be a start. 

 

“Go on.”

 

“Not me…you’re the one with the news…”

 

“Why not Kim?”

 

A female voice answered, “I don’t want to disturb him. Can’t we wait till he rises?”

 

“It’s important…he…”

 

Angel opened his door. The humans on the other side took a hurried step back.

 

“Sorry to bother you, Boss, but we thought you should know immediately.”

 

“What?” he growled, exasperated. His humans backed up another step.

 

“We’ve found another slayer,” blue-eyed Michael said.

 

Kim added, “Over by the docks. Fighting vamps in a warehouse.”

 

“Was she on her own?”

 

“He. It was a he.”

 

Ricky frowned, his dark brows coming together. “I thought slayers were always women.”

 

Angel was already heading down the hall to the stairs. “Is he still there?” he called back to his people who were hurrying after him.

 

“No. When we went to meet him, he…vanished…you know, in the way that you do.”

 

 

+++

 

 

Of course Connor was no longer in the vicinity when Angel got there. His scent lingered, though, confirming it was, indeed, Angel’s son.

 

“Connor,” the vampire whispered, his dead heart aching with longing.

 

It had been too long since he had seen his child. He had almost given up hope. Angel was several blocks away, tracking Connor’s scent, before he remembered their agreement. Connor would come to Angel in his own time. Angel wasn’t to initiate contact. He halted in his tracks. He was standing on the roof of a building, several stories high.  Feeling his shoulders slump – he wished they wouldn’t do that – Angel took a moment to survey the surrounding streets while contemplating the sudden, and welcome, appearance of his son.  Was the boy coming home at last? Or was it merely coincidence? Did Connor know his father was back in town and had been for several years? Angel paced the perimeter of the rooftop, scanning the streets below.

 

One wouldn’t know the city had been at the epicentre of the Senior Partners’ war with Angel. Apartments and office blocks with their glowing windows threw false sunlight into the night, bringing life and vibrancy to the darkness. Cars and people scurried below, going about their business, unaware of the vampire above, watching. Unaware how close they had all come to the Apocalypse and their doom.

 

Angel leaned his elbows on the wall, looking out over the bright lights of the city. The Powers That Be had actually intervened for once in their forever-non-interfering existence. Apparently the Senior Partners had broken some rule – as if that had ever stopped them before – about interfering directly in human affairs. Oh sure, they could have their minions, their humans and demons affiliated with Wolfram and Hart, do their dirty work for them, but to bring in a massed army of demons from another dimension was another matter. The Powers hadn’t actually shown up in the alley, they had halted the onslaught a couple minutes after it had begun. And Angel had so wanted to slay the dragon. Even that pleasure had been denied him, as it and its cohorts had faded away. The Senior Partners, since then, tried to have him dusted in the conventional ways, staking, beheading, fire, and sunlight high on the list. Angel wondered if he had some mystical force protecting him.  Maybe he had. Maybe the Powers were continuing to look out for him. He dismissed the thought. The Powers were cruel. They used up their champions, spit them out, and found new fools to do their bidding. His thoughts circled round. The attempts on his life had ceased. The attempts by the minions of the Senior Partners, that is. He had to wonder what new torture the Senior Partners had in store for him.

 

 

Angel rolled his shoulders. What he needed now was a good spot of violence. His mood always improved when his fists were hitting things. Looking down the street, he wondered if anyone out there needed rescuing. He was supposed to be good at rescuing, and yet, his mood dour, he recalled he hadn’t been able to rescue his friends. They had died, almost to a man, because of him and his supposed mission. His lips curled up in a faint smile. Or woman. Cordelia would never have let him get away with calling her a man. He missed his friend…friends, he amended.

 

Leaping over to the next roof, Angel ran its length and continued on until he ran out of building. His feet hit the street, and, without a backward glance, the vampire stalked the city, looking for trouble. His father’s voice haunted the dark vault of his mind.

 

“If you go looking for trouble, you’re sure to find it.”

 

Angel intended to do just that.

 

+++

 

It was late, or early, depending on one’s point of view, when Angel staggered home. The doors swung shut behind his heels, effectively cutting off dawn’s hot pursuit. Angel weaved across the lobby, heading for the elevator. He was battered and bruised, cut and clawed, but he was standing. His opponents were not so lucky. The vampire had come across four demons hustling a prostitute – for their own dark purposes. The woman had fled, leaving Angel to reprimand the group. They hadn’t taken well to his interference and had retaliated. Angel obliged them with a beating, giving as good as he got. Better, in fact. He grimaced as the elevator took him to his floor. The Hyperion was his again, and one of his crew, Devon, was a whiz with mechanical things. Devon had worked his magic, thus bringing life to the old elevator.

 

Walking the corridor, the hotel stirred memories that would have brought a saner person to their knees. But Angel wasn’t quite sane, nor a person. It was bad enough he saw Fred around every corner and heard Wes’ soft voice in the shadows, Cordelia’s sharp tones sometimes echoing in his ears, but his old rooms harboured the sweetest and deadliest memories of all.

 

Angel drifted through his door, shutting it firmly behind him. Peeling off his coat, he stumbled across to his bathroom, shedding the rest of his clothes inside.

 

After a long hot shower, Angel emerged damp and towelled. His fridge yielded a bag of O pos that went into the microwave. Inhaling the aroma of heated blood, the vampire poured it into his mug. The first sip forced his eyes closed. The power of human blood coursed through his being. Immortality thundered in his veins. Imbibing human blood made a vampire feel God-like, invincible, and all powerful. Animal blood was just sustenance, human was pure ambrosia. Truly, it was the nectar of the Gods. Since his stint as CEO of Evil Incorporated Angel had allowed himself to drink human blood on occasion. He used to deny himself the pleasure, because pleasure it was. Angel had been about self flagellation, abstinence, and all that it entailed. He was no longer that vampire, afraid that he would fall back onto old habits. He was a warrior. He had to take care of himself and his crew, and to do that he had to be at his peak. He pushed down the guilt that was always waiting to surface as he swallowed the blood down. 

 

Forcing himself not to lick the mug, he rinsed it out and made his way to bed.  His dreams were of talcum powder, teddy bears, and lullabies.

 

+++

 

 

“What did this male slayer look like?”

 

Ricky looked at his boss. Technically, he worked for Angel but when Charles Gunn gave an order, everyone jumped. Gunn was the only one of Angel’s old crew left, and that alone earned him the respect of the team.  That, and Gunn was a formidable fighter. One whom you didn’t want to cross.

 

“Mid height, fair hair, slim, but strong, you know? Strong enough to take on three demons, and fast, too.”

 

“Did you speak to him?”

 

“No. He knew we were there, though, because he looked over at us before taking off.”

 

“And Angel went out as soon as you told him?”

 

“That’s right. He took the tunnels. It was afternoon, near to sunset when he left.”

 

Having studied slayers when working for Wolfram and Hart, Gunn knew that slayers were always female. There was no precedent, he knew, for a man or boy being called. No wonder Angel had hared off, albeit in the light of day, to see for himself. He wished the vampire had called him. Angel was reckless with his life. More so since…

 

Gunn realised Ricky was waiting for him to speak. He raised his eyes to the ceiling.

 

“You seen Angel today?”

 

Shake of Ricky’s dark head. “No.”

 

Gunn sighed. He had better go check on Angel. The others didn’t like to invade the vampire’s privacy but Charles Gunn had no such qualms. He got up out of his chair.

 

“You done with the Harrison case yet?”

 

“The invoice is typed up.”

 

“The gremlins been relocated?”

 

Ricky nodded. “We found a nice warm place beneath a gym over in Hollywood.”

 

Gremlins liked warm spots. They had burrowed into the walls of the Harrison’s kitchen, behind the oven, where they nested. Once upon a time, Ricky thought gremlins were the invention of the movies. He knew better now. Besides, they were quite cute, according to Kim. He thought of them more like guinea pigs, only bigger.

 

Gunn chuckled. “The gym got a spa?”

 

“They’ll be quite happy. There’s a restaurant next door. I think the gremlins will be eating quite well. You should see what the restaurant throws out in the trash.”

 

Once upon a time Gunn had sought food in restaurants’ trash.  Usually the food was perfectly okay to eat if one didn’t think about someone else’s teeth having been there first. And sometimes the chefs threw out food that hadn’t been near a table. There was so much wastage in the food industry. No wonder the homeless hung about fast food chains.

 

Gunn made his way up the stairs to Angel’s suite. Knocking on the door but not stopping, he entered the shadowy realm of the vampire.

 

“You awake?” he asked softly, knowing that Angel would hear him if he was.

 

“Gunn?”

 

The handsome black man turned on the small lamp within arm’s reach. Looking towards the open doors that led to the bedroom, Gunn could see that Angel was in bed, sitting up, hair tousled, and looking as if he were half asleep. Gunn wasn’t fooled. Angel was quick, even half asleep. The man could move faster than he could blink an eye.

 

“There’s no emergency, Angel. Sorry to wake you. I heard the team found a male slayer. I wanted to know if you found him last night.”

 

“And it couldn’t wait,” Angel said, running his fingers through his hair.

 

Gunn smiled and, turning towards the small kitchen, said. “I’ll put the tea on.”

 

Cups in hand, Gunn found Angel in one of the two armchairs. He handed over the vampire’s black tea, no sugar, and seated himself.  Charles liked his tea sweetened, with milk, but Angel didn’t have any of those in his kitchen. He sipped the slightly bitter liquid.

 

“Well?” he asked, staring at the fading wounds on his friend’s bare chest.

 

“It’s Connor.”

 

“You found him?”

 

“No. I…” Angel shook his head. His eyes were unreadable in the dim light.

 

Gunn had been having his heart cut out daily, when the boy and his parents had come to the law firm looking for help. Angel had confided in him one day after a particularly harrowing encounter involving demons and bloodshed and killing. Angel had decided that someone should know who Connor was if he should dust. Gunn had been amazed, hurt, angry that his memories had been wiped, and then sympathetic once he had time to think about it.  Sometimes he was filled with regret that he had no memory of baby Connor and the family they must all have been. And other times, he was grateful that he couldn’t recall the anguish and grief and anger Wesley’s betrayal had incurred.  He often wondered what his and Fred’s relationship had been like during those times. Had they been as happy as he believed, or had it already started to go downhill when he killed the professor? He realised he was brooding. Another trait rubbing off.  He held in a snort. And here he was with a vampire for a friend where once he had declared it could never happen.

 

“You didn’t track him.”

 

“No.”

 

“He’ll come to you when he’s ready?”

 

Angel sipped his tea.

 

“He will, Angel.”

 

The vampire raised his eyes to meet his. “You think so?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

The two men sat in companionable silence, drinking their tea.

 

+++

 

 

Ricky was busy filing when Angel entered the foyer, his team straggling in behind him. Ricky was good at keeping the records straight and running the office. Angel had no trouble finding a file, but sometimes he missed looking for a client’s name only to find it had been filed under the man’s occupation, or nationality, or whatever had taken Cordelia’s fancy. He was almost sure she had used the filing cabinet as a means to ensure she was indispensable, even after she had acquired the visions.

 

“By the looks of it,” said Ricky, looking across at the battered crew, “you need coffee and donuts.”

 

He tapped the box of Krispy Kremes that was set on the counter and bustled about getting cups and coffee.

 

Angel ignored the humans behind him collapsing on the seats and continued to the weapons cabinet to snatch up the cleaning gear he kept for his bladed instruments. Holding back a wince as his team’s weapons hit the floor, Angel began to clean and hone his sword. A mug of coffee appeared beside him and he nodded gratefully. Ricky did know how to brew a good pot of coffee.

 

Ricky announced the rest could collect their drinks from the counter, saying that milk and sugar were their own affair. Groans filled the lobby but his team complied. Angel’s nose caught the aroma of sugared donuts as the box was opened, and he wondered briefly what they tasted like. He remembered the Harris boy had always been the donut delivery lad when Giles and Buffy held an all-nighter, researching. His thoughts stalled on Buffy and his heart ached with familiar longing.

 

His people began to dissect the evening’s work, interrupting Angel’s daydream. He didn’t know if he was grateful or not. A vampire nest had been discovered downtown and Angel and his team had gone to clean it out. On Angel’s insistence his people had guarded the exits and were to stake any vampires that made it past him.

 

Kim tripped over her crossbow, sloshing her coffee on the way back from the counter. She would have sworn but for the donut lodged between her teeth. The others laughed good-heartedly at her. She grimaced around her snack. Would have stuck her tongue out at them, instead, a finger raised its painted head.

 

“Not very lady-like,” Michael said, following her to one of the round seats in the middle of the lobby.

 

“You’re not the one with coffee stain down the front of your shirt,” she sniped back, having ripped the pastry from her mouth.

 

“No, just blood,” he retorted, looking down at his torn and bloody shirt. Michael was the most able of Angel’s team, not counting Charles Gunn. Michael could more than hold his own. Angel had Gunn train his people, hoping to keep them alive a little longer than his last team, and Michael had proved that he was capable and deadly when it came to vampires and demons. The man had been hunting demons for years since his fiancée had been killed one night on her way home from work. The blood loss and teeth marks had told the story.  And Michael had tried to stake Angel when he happened upon him one night. Michael had been left alive to tell the tale, and had eventually joined Angel’s crew when finally convinced that, yes, there was one vampire who did not kill humans and, yes, said vampire was out there killing vampires and demons, and thirdly, said vampire helped humans whenever he could.

 

“It’s not your blood.” Devon sat on the floor cross-legged, eating his snack.

 

“No, but at least I didn’t wind up with oil and grease all over me.”

 

Devon held up the napkin that contained his pastry. His hands were filthy, as was his hair. “The oil helped the flames.”

 

The vampire had been flambéed, courtesy of Kim’s quick thinking. She had used her lighter to set fire to the unfortunate vamp.

 

 “And they say that smoking is no good for you,” Kim retorted.

 

Angel was suddenly lost in memory, thinking of how he had set two vampires alight and how they had lived to tell the tale. He wasn’t sorry now. All that came before had given him Connor. It was afterwards he regretted the most.

 

“It isn’t,” Michael said.

 

His eyes were on Angel. No matter how human Angel acted, Michael never forgot that Angel was a vampire. No matter how softly Angel spoke, or how gentle he was with them, beneath the façade lurked a monster.  There had been moments when Angel’s dangerous side surfaced for all to see. Sure, they saw his demon face in battle, and that was enough to send any sane man running for his life, but Angel was one scary son-of-a-bitch all the time. His game face wasn’t the only one that sent chills racing down his spine. His human face at times could be so inhuman, so forbidding, that if one looked too closely they could see the fires of Hell beckoning. Fires of Hell… 

 

Michael asked, “Hey, Angel? Why do vampires burn so easily? You’re pretty indestructible. Why fire?”

 

Angel shrugged his shoulders. He had often wondered about fire and the affect it had on vampires. Had even pondered staking. A steel bar could pierce his chest and shred his heart without a speck of dust being shed. A sliver of wood? Deadly. Beheading was a given. Unless you were a Pylean, of course. Torturing Watchers hadn’t given him answers, either, but he remembered feeling satisfaction with every sobbing scream. Not wanting to lift his eyes in case they betrayed his thoughts, he continued to clean and hone his weapon.

 

Eventually, talk died down as exhaustion rolled over them. The humans started to disperse, not surprised that the vampire had slipped away some time before.

 

Angel watched them go from his place in the shadows. He would go out again. There were hours to go before dawn hit the streets.  He followed Rick, the last of his crew to leave.  The lad made it safely home, his bodyguard leaving silently as he had come, intent on other prey.

 

 

+++

 

 

Gunn was worried about Angel. Heck, he had been worried about him for years. The vampire hadn’t been the same since Cordelia, Fred, and Wes had died. Truth be told, neither had he. Angel took each death personally, believing that if it hadn’t been for him and his mission his friends would still be alive. Angel had always been just left of sane. And one never knew what the man was thinking. The vampire’s handsome face, inscrutable most days, offered only a rare smile now, if one were quick enough to catch it. Gunn had hoped with the sudden and welcome reappearance of Connor Angel would settle a bit. And stop taking so many damned risks. He knew what Angel was about, sneaking off to hunt after the team had taken off for the night, content that they had slain evil, happy to go to bed with a satisfied smile.  The vampire was protecting his people and courting his demise, simultaneously.

 

+++

 

It had been weeks now and still no sign of Connor. Gunn had begun his own search for the boy. If his father refused to do it, then it was up to him. 

 

Angel’s right-hand man turned away from the bedroom door. Angel was asleep, his back a bloody reminder of last night’s activities.  Gunn had winced at the sight of the deep wounds. Claws, he guessed.  Angel, exhausted and in a world of hurt, did not stir at Gunn’s presence.  Closing the door gently behind him, Gunn quietly tiptoed down the hall. It was mid-morning. A good time to continue the hunt for the son of two vampires.

 

 

+++

 

 

Connor beat Gunn to it.

 

“Angel send you to find me?” was the first sign Gunn had that Connor was standing behind him.

 

Gunn spun about to face the younger man, his heart hammering in his chest.

 

“No. It’s my own idea. Angel’s too stubborn to chase after you.”

 

“Why are you here, then?”

 

Gunn studied the young man. Gunn had seen a sketch of Connor, one that Angel had drawn, so he knew what to expect. His features weren’t at all like Angel’s. More Darla, Gunn thought. Deceptively delicate form was also Darla’s legacy, and hidden strength courtesy of both parents, he knew. Blue eyes waited for an answer. The colour, again, was Darla, but the set of the brows and mouth was all Angel.

 

“Why haven’t you come to see him?”

 

The set of the brows lifted. “He knows I’m in town?”

 

“You know he knows.”

 

Connor shrugged. “I…I don’t know what to say to him.”

 

“How about hi, Dad?”

 

The younger man nodded. “I’ve wanted to. It’s been a while, you know? I didn’t know if he wanted to…

 

“To see his son?”

 

“Forgive me for not sticking by him.”

 

Charles frowned. “You know I don’t remember you from before…”

 

“Just as well,” Connor muttered under his breath.

 

“But I do know Angel, and he would tell you there was nothing to forgive. He told me he made you leave. You being alive is all that matters to him.”

 

“How is he?”

 

“Trying to get himself killed.”

 

“He wouldn’t... I thought he wanted to see me?”

 

“He’s taking risks trying to protect the team.”

 

Connor nodded. “Doing what you have to…”

 

“He doesn’t have to. They know the risks. Hell, we all know what we’ve signed up for.” Gunn eyed the young man to see if he understood.

 

“You don’t understand…”

 

“Hell I don’t. I had a family…once.”

 

Connor stared hard at Gunn. “You would do anything to keep them safe?”

 

“I did, but it’s never enough.”

 

“You’ve lost people.”

 

“More than you know.” Gunn was uncomfortable with the turn of the conversation. This wasn’t about him. This was about Angel.

 

“When you coming in from the cold?” he asked Connor.

 

Once upon a time Connor would have squinted at Gunn, trying to figure out what the man meant.

 

“Tonight?” the young man offered.

 

“How about now?” Gunn suggested.

 

“He’s sleeping.”

 

“All the better to catch him at home. Besides, Angel doesn’t sleep all day, at least, not usually.”

 

Gunn indicated his truck with a jerk of his head. He led the younger man to where it stood. 

 

Hand on the door handle, he said,  “So…you graduate from school?”

 

“History.”

 

Gunn snorted. He climbed into the cab, Connor getting in on the other side.

 

 “Figures. Are you working?”

 

“I’ve got a job as a journalist, a junior position.”

 

Gunn glanced at him from the corner of his eye as he pulled out into traffic.

 

“What happened to history?”

 

“A journalist has access to all kinds of information. Breaking news and all that.”

 

Gunn suddenly understood. “You and your dad have a lot in common.”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“Fighting the good fight.”

 

“Oh. You told me that more than once.”

 

“Did I?”

 

“You did but I wasn’t listening.”

 

“Yeah? Something must have stuck though.”

 

Gunn received a wide grin. “You could say that.”

 

“What was it like, your memory coming back to you?”

 

Connor’s grin drooped. “Kinda strange. It’s weird, having two sets of memories…one superimposed over the other. And yet they both feel real.”

 

“They are both real, for all intent and purposes. Your other family are proof of that.”

 

Connor turned his head to stare at the taller man. “I’m glad you don’t remember what happened to me. I…I did some bad things.”

 

Gunn reached out and patted Connor’s shoulder. Gunn’s eyes were dark. Pain lurked behind his eyes. “We’ve all done bad things.”

 

“You don’t know…”

 

“What I do know is that we have to live with it. And we can’t ever forget what it is we did. We use it to do what we do. Keeping people safe from monsters…”

 

“Even if we’re the monsters?”

 

“Who better?”

 

Connor chewed his bottom lip. “Do you think that’s why Angel does it?”

 

“He told me once he had nothing better to do.”

 

Connor smiled.  It was something his father would say.

 

+++

 

 

The lobby was far from a welcoming sight when the two men stepped through the doors.

 

“What happened?” Gunn shouted, running down the short flight of stairs to where two of his team where attempting a tidy up.

 

The lobby furniture was in disarray, one of the centre seats was slashed and torn, and there was blood on the floor. Kim pointed to the demons dead in the corner.

 

“We had uninvited guests.”

 

Connor leaned over for a good look at the bodies.

 

“I’ve seen them before.”

 

“What were they after?” Gunn asked, stepping around Connor for a closer look at the demons.

 

“Angel. He did that before heading downstairs and out the sewers.”

 

Kim added, “The rest of the demons behind him.”

 

“Where are the others?”

 

“They’ve gone after them.”

 

Gunn placed an arm on Connor’s shoulder to stay the younger man. “Wait.”

 

Connor halted in his tracks. He had been making a bee line for the basement. He was impatient to go. He didn’t know why he was allowing Charles Gunn to order him around. Maybe it was because it felt like old times, and he knew that the man had had genuine concern for his welfare back then.  Connor shivered, remembering he had been busy deceiving them all when Angel was trapped down in the ocean.

 

Heading for the weapons cabinet, Gunn complained to his co workers. “You should have called me.”

 

“We were about to.”

 

Hefting a double-headed axe, Gunn turned to look at Connor. “What do you fancy?”

 

Connor pointed to the axe. “That’ll do.”

 

The older man chose another weapon before moving to Connor’s side. Handing him the axe, Gunn led the way to the door.

 

“Aren’t you that male slayer?” Kim asked as they reached the door.

 

The door closed on any reply that may have been forthcoming.

 

 

++++

 

 

Gunn and Connor met Michael and Devon a mile down, at a fork in the sewers. Their faces, blanched white with the light from their flashlight, informed them the men had met with little success.

 

“We lost them.”

 

Connor walked right by them, veered left and continued out of sight.

 

“Who’s he?”

 

“Someone who can track as well as Angel. His name is Connor. Come on.” Gunn disappeared, following after Angel’s son.

 

“You can track as well as Angel?” Gunn muttered when he caught up with him.

 

“Isn’t he that male slayer we saw a few weeks back?” Devon whispered to Michael. His friend nodded his confirmation.

 

 

 

+++

 

 

The first sign they had to show they were on the right track was a dead demon, its head separated from its body, the rest of its remains lay crumpled like a piece of refuse tossed out to decompose on the floor of the tunnel.

 

Connor sniffed the air. Like father, like son, Gunn thought.

 

“Angel’s blood.”

 

Gunn stared at the pool of viscous fluid beneath their feet. 

 

Michael’s light played over the scene. “Angel was bleeding back at the hotel.”

 

“Wounds from last night,” Gunn said. “How come you didn’t smell that back there?” he asked Connor.

 

“I did. This is fresh, only a few minutes old.” Connor forged ahead into the darkness, the black man behind him.

 

“Do vampires even have fresh blood?” Devon inquired. “I mean, it’s not even their blood, technically…”

 

Connor’s voice drifted back to them. “There was blood on the demon’s claws, and on the wall.”

 

Devon shut up and concentrated on keeping up. The strange young man set a fast pace. After what seemed an eternity, Connor had them climbing a set of metal rungs. A trapdoor lay open above. Devon was the last through, finding Connor and Gunn already running through what appeared to be the basement of a building. Michael, waiting for him, explained as he tugged on his arm, that Connor had heard the sounds of a fracas, and they were going to investigate. Devon kept pace with Michael as they chased after the other two men. Skidding to a stop in a dim and dank area, the newer members of Angel Investigations were confronted with four demons attacking one vampire. It was Angel. He was bloody and his clothes were in tatters. The blade of his sword was a blur as he deflected and slashed at his attackers. Angel wore his demon face, his fangs sharp inside a wicked grin.

 

Connor sprang to his aid, his axe whirling in a vicious arc. Gunn ran around to the right, his weapon lashing out as he joined the fray.

 

Gunn roared a greeting to his friend. “Angel! Don’t be greedy. I’ve brought guests to the party.”

 

Angel grunted in reply, his blade piercing the unfortunate demon who had been distracted with his friends’ arrival. Connor’s axe sliced through the torso of the demon closest to him, its body falling with a sodden clump to the floor. Gunn deflected a blow aimed at his head. A bolt suddenly sprouted from the demon’s chest. Devon lowered his crossbow and watched as Gunn finished off the demon. Michael threw his dagger at the last one trying to get away. The blade found flesh, and the demon staggered briefly, flinging the dagger away. Michael chased after it as it disappeared into the gloom.

 

Angel’s eyes were on Connor. His son stared back, a lopsided grin on his lips.

 

“I thought you might need some help, old man,” were the first words out of Connor’s mouth.

 

Angel continued to stare. He was sure he was hallucinating. His knees buckled, and all sight fled.

 

“Angel!” everyone yelled.

 

“What’s wrong with him?”  Connor cried, putting his hands on his father. They came away bloody. Gunn knelt beside Angel, gently lifting his clothing to look at his wounds. Connor sniffed at his bloody hands. Devon stood behind them, keeping an eye on them and looking out for Michael, who came staggering back, a gash on his forehead.

 

“What happened?”

 

“Angel collapsed,” Devon replied.

 

“The demon ambushed me. Struck me on the head before getting away,” Michael said his eyes on Angel’s silent form.

 

“There’s something not quite right.”

 

Gunn tore his gaze away from the body of his friend to look across at Connor.

 

“What’s not right?”

 

Connor held his fingers up, sniffing them. “This. There’s something in his blood.”

 

Gunn’s eyebrows rose.  “What do you mean? Poison?” Gunn began to examine Angel in earnest. “Devon. Go above and see where we’re at. Call Kim and tell her what’s happened. Tell her to bring the car. We have to get Angel back to the hotel, fast.”

 

He looked at the battered body beneath his hands. “There’s too much blood. We need to clean him up...” Gunn’s words petered out when Connor leaned forward. Michael and Charles Gunn watched as Connor sniffed his way around Angel’s form.

 

“There!” Connor pulled aside Angel’s shirt. An ugly gash marred the flesh on the vampire’s ribs.

 

“Claw?” Michael breathed.

 

“Could be.” Connor leaned in, peering closely. “Knife, I think. I don’t think any demon worth its salt would coat its claw with poison. Imagine if it scratched itself?”

 

“We need water to clean it. Anyone see a tap round here?” Gunn asked, shining his light around the walls.

 

“On it.” Michael stepped away in search of a faucet.

 

Connor wasn’t about to wait. He spat on the wound and attempted to wipe away the blood. Gunn shook his head. Reaching out, he pinched the flesh around the injury and pressed. Blood trickled out. He said, “I’m not volunteering to suck on the wound, but if we can squeeze the poison out, it may help.”

 

“Before it heals, you mean?”

 

“Right,” Gunn grunted as his fingers massaged the cut. He dug his fingers into the wound to keep it from closing. Angel did not stir.

 

+++

 

Angel was still unconscious when they arrived back at the Hyperion. They put him to bed. Connor stripped his father of his clothes and sponged him down. He applied bandages to the worst of the wounds, knowing that Angel didn’t really need them. Connor felt an ache build in the hollow of his chest. What if Angel never recovered from the poison? Had he wasted his chance to get to know his father?

 

Angel was beyond pale. His skin was starting to turn blue. Not the blue from lack of oxygen that a person went just before they died, but the palest blue of a glacier hugging the sea. His father was cold. As cold as an iceberg. Connor didn’t like it one bit. He examined the wound that had incapacitated Angel. It was red and weeping. Connor cut away as much of the flesh as he dared. He hoped it would help delay the effects the poison. Angel was not dust, and yet Connor didn’t find that very encouraging. What had the demons wanted with Angel?

 

+++

 

“We should have captured one of the demons instead of killing them all,” Michael was saying, blaming himself for the lack of a prisoner, when Connor entered the office.

 

“Yeah, well, what shoulda happened, didn’t,” Gunn said without looking up from his book. Everyone was gathered round, a book on their laps, looking for some clue as to what was wrong with Angel. Connor peered at the book in front of Gunn. It was a journal of sorts. Hand-written. He wondered at it as he glanced at the others’ tomes. They looked like regular books, if one could say the pictures of demons staring up from several pages counted for regular. One was written in a language he recognised as Latin.

 

“How is he?” Ricky asked, lifting his eyes from the Latin text.

 

“He’s cold.”

 

“He’s always cold,” Devon said.

 

“Ice cold. And blue.”

 

Gunn’s head came up at that. “Illyria blue?” he asked, a prickle of dread working its way up his spine.

 

“That blue woman in leather?” Connor frowned. “I don’t think so.”

 

Gunn blew out the breath he had been holding. The world didn’t need another God King in it.

 

“We’ll find the cure,” Kim said, looking up at Connor, a worried look upon her pretty face. She wasn’t sure why Connor was so invested in Angel’s survival, or why Gunn had let the man see to Angel’s wounds. Connor was a stranger, and they were Angel’s friends. It didn’t sit right with her.

 

“I found something…” Gunn had his finger on the page he had been reading. “Wesley was a Watcher, and Watchers keep diaries. In detail,” he said by way of explanation. “Too much detail,” he sighed.

 

“Can you get on with it?” Kim snapped, impatient.

 

Gunn hurried along. “Wesley ran across Angel the year he was assigned to Buffy.”

 

All but one nodded. They had heard the tale. Connor hadn’t. He wanted to ask, when Gunn continued.

 

“He wrote here that Angel was poisoned. ‘The Killer of the Undead.’” Gunn’s face was alive with hope when he looked up.

 

“What’s that?” Devon asked, one book of poisons open on the desk where he sat. He rifled through to look for the index.

 

“Do you think it’s the same poison?” Connor asked. Killer of the Undead. He didn’t want Angel to die. He hoped Gunn was mistaken.

 

Gunn’s finger skimmed through the page.

 

“No. According to Wesley, Angel had a fever. He was sweating, raving, delusional. That isn’t our boy.” Gunn looked up at Connor.

 

“No.  He’s definitely out for the count.”

 

“There was a cure, though, right? I mean, Angel’s still alive…er…among us. They must have found a cure.” Kim worried at her nail. They were all bitten to the quick, a nasty habit she hadn’t been able to kick.

 

Gunn whistled low. His eyes had read the next few lines. “Man! The blood of a slayer is the cure.”

 

Connor shivered. Had his father killed a slayer to save his own life?

 

“Buffy forced Angel to drink her. He was delirious, according to Giles,” he read. “And it worked. Buffy lived, and so did Angel.”

 

“That’s something! A slayer saving a vampire by letting him drink from her.” Kim sighed. Her romantic heart was fascinated by the tale of Angel and his one time love, Buffy.

 

“What did Wesley say about that?” Michael prodded.

 

“The Council was not pleased,” Gunn read on. “Oh.” Gunn looked up at his listeners. “Buffy left the Council. Turned her back. Refused to take their orders.”

 

“Anything else Wesley has to say about Angel and poison?”

 

Gunn turned the page and quickly scanned down it. “No, but I’ll keep looking.”

 

Devon went back to the page he had been reading. Killer of the Undead was off the list. There were thousands of poisons out there. He had the awful feeling that they wouldn’t find the right one in time. Still, Connor’s account of the symptoms gave them a place to start.

 

Connor had other ideas. Research wasn’t one of them. He quietly left the room. Checking on Angel before he left the hotel, Connor found his condition unchanged. Connor breathed a sigh of relief. He half expected to find Angel encased in a slab of ice. Silently, Connor left the building.

 

+++

 

Connor tracked the Lysner demon through the underground and back to its lair. Surprisingly, its lair was above ground. When Connor emerged from the trapdoor in the basement, he could smell chemicals. He followed his nose up the stairs and found himself peering into someone’s home. Chairs, tables, couches and a kitchen greeted his sight, and fortunately, the area was empty of life. Carefully, Connor crossed the floor and opened the door which led into a store room. The shelves were stocked with chemicals. Hair products, facial creams, ointments and the like. They were beauty products. Connor snorted. The Lysner were no beauties, themselves. He wondered at the irony.

 

Connor scouted around the warehouse and found the main entrance. A small office beckoned. It was empty. No doubt a person, or persons, fronted for the demons, interacting with the humans in business. After rifling through the desk and files, he made his way back to the living quarters, determined to find the Lysner. Opening a door, he found a large bedroom with several beds lining the floor. One of the beds contained the demon Connor had been tracking. Its jowls were blanched with pain. The scabs on its face and neck had a greenish tinge to them. Demon eyes opened to stare at him.

 

“Have you come to kill me, too?”

 

Its breathing rattled. The sound conjured up the image of ball bearings rolling inside tortured lungs.

 

“Too?”

 

“We failed to take the vampire. Failure is death. My end is near.”

 

Connor rolled his eyes. Could the demon be more melodramatic?

 

“Where’s the rest of your clan?”

 

“They’ve gone to wait elsewhere. They’ll be back to get rid of my corpse.” It hacked up a cough.  Spittle flecked its lips when it was done.

 

“What have you done to Angel?”

 

The demon closed its eyes in resignation. “You can’t threaten me. I’m dying. I have nothing to lose.”

 

Connor leaned forward and slipped a knife up beneath the demon’s eye.  The blade nicked the skin and drew blood. The eye opened wide with fear.  “I can make your last few moments an eternity of pain. What’s it going to be?”

 

“A poison.”

 

“We know that. What kind of poison?”

 

“Gelidus pocion,” it panted. “It’s a killer, usually. Your vampire, being dead already, is only in stasis.  Physically, it’s like he’s been placed in an ice box, a freezer.”

 

“Why?” Connor put more pressure on the blade.

 

“Our clients wanted him that way. I don’t know why. None of us do. We were paid to do a task. No questions asked.”

 

“There’s an antidote?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“What is it?”

 

The Lysner’s eyes rolled back. It’s breathing became more laboured.

 

“Who are your clients?” Connor pleaded, but it was no use. The demon’s chest rattled one last time, and the demon lay still. It was dead. Connor didn’t have all the answers, and he hoped that his father’s team could find the rest.

 

+++

 

“Gelidus pocion,” he announced as he stormed through the foyer.

 

“Pardon?” Ricky asked, looking up from his place at the counter.

 

“The poison is Gelidus pocion.”

 

“You’re sure?”

 

“Yep. Where’s the others?” Connor could see the office was empty. The books were still strewn about the room.

 

“Kim is upstairs with the  boss. Devon and Michael have gone to buy supplies. Gunn is in the kitchen.”

 

“Supplies for what?”

 

“The antidote. We’d narrowed it down to four. We were going to try them all.”

 

“How do you know it’s the Gelidus pocion?”

 

Connor spun around to face Charles Gunn. “I got it from the horse’s mouth,” he said.

 

Gunn raised a dark eyebrow. “Did you bring the antidote with you?”

 

Connor shrugged. “The horse died before he had a chance to tell me where to find it.”

 

Both men stared at him for a moment. 

 

“Never mind.” Gunn looked past Connor to Ricky. “Call Michael and tell him.”

 

 

+++

 

Kim mixed the ingredients together. Calendula, witch hazel, agrimony, cumin, and werewolf piss.

 

“That’s disgusting,” Devon grimaced.

 

“You can buy anything these days,” Gunn commented, shaking his head.

 

“It has magical properties,” Kim sniffed in mock indignation. “And it’s not like they got it from straight from the wolf. Its human counterpart happily supplies the magic shop.”

 

Connor crinkled his nose. “And you’re going to smear that all over Angel?”

 

She nodded. “An injection into the wound, and the salve to cover his flesh.”

 

“I didn’t think vampires had a circulatory system?” Devon asked.

 

“More metaphysical.” At their surprised looks, Gunn continued, “Tranquilizers. We’ve had to use tranquilizers on Angel in the past. The drug gets round his system somehow.”

 

Narrowing his eyes, Michael stared at Gunn. “Are you going to tell us why you had to tranquilize Angel?”

 

“That’s another story.” Gunn dismissed the subject with a shake of his head.

 

Michael opened his mouth to insist on hearing the story, not willing to let it go, when Kim added another ingredient. The first drop sizzled, and soon the container was bubbling. Acrid smoke boiled up into the room. Everyone stepped back, covering their noses. The room quickly filled with smoke.

 

“What the hell is that?”

 

“Something the spell required. We were lucky the shop had it in stock. It’s pretty rare,” Kim explained, not at all bothered by the smell. She had on a cloth mask to protect her senses.

 

“And?”

 

“Ectoplasm.”

 

“Ectoplasm? Isn’t that supposed to be ghostly residue?” Ricky’s voice was muffled. His hand was covering his mouth and nose.

 

“Uh huh!” Kim looked up at them, having thrown a lid on the container. “You might want to open a door or two. Let the fumes out.”

 

While her friends scurried to do just that, Kim stared at the book of spells open on the counter. In a clear voice she uttered the incantation she needed to transform the ingredients into the potion she wanted. The lid of the container abruptly left off chattering. Carefully, she lifted the lid. Inside, she saw the liquid had turned a greenish colour. The smell was as dreadful as ever. She coughed behind her mask. Her eyes began to water. Spying a vial of rose oil in amongst her supplies, Kim added its contents to the mix. The smell of perfume chased away the pungent odour. Connor gagged. He preferred the other taint.

 

Gunn clapped a hand on his shoulder. “Angel’s going to smell pretty when he wakes.”

 

Connor returned his grin. It’d be worth the look on his father’s face when Angel realised that he was the one smelling like a bottle of cheap perfume.

 

They retired to Angel’s rooms. Angel was ice cold to the touch, the light blue tinge of his skin standing testament to the fact. His limbs had stiffened into rigor mortis, Connor thought, when he and Gunn were smoothing the potion into Angel’s flesh. After injecting Angel with the antidote, the others had left them to coat the vampire’s body with the remaining liquid. Out of respect for Angel and his privacy, Connor assumed.

 

“Never looked more like a corpse,” Gunn muttered. Connor agreed. It was like handling a cadaver. He expected Angel’s hair to tinkle with icicles when he ran his hands through his father’s locks. They didn’t, but he swore there was a light dusting of frost upon his fingers when he was done.

 

“Bastard’s heavy,” Gunn groaned as they rolled the vampire onto his back. They had removed Angel’s bandages to get at the wounds. They both noticed that his injuries hadn’t begun to heal. Once Angel was covered from head to toe with the antidote, they lay a sheet over his still form. Both men sat, waiting for signs of life. The minutes ticked by.

 

“I think he’s warming, don’t you?” Connor asked, finally. He wasn’t sure if it was wishful thinking on his part, or if the warmth he felt had been due to friction.

 

“Coming back to life?”

 

Suddenly, Gunn chuckled at the absurdity of his words. Connor giggled. Gunn laughed out loud, Connor’s laughter echoing his.

 

“This is insane,” Gunn grinned.

 

Connor nodded. His whole life had been one big fairytale, or nightmare, depending on the set of memories he relied on. It didn’t look like the fantasy was going to get any better. Suddenly, he realised he wouldn’t have it any other way. He liked this tall, strong black man. And he knew that if he wanted to renew his relationship with his father he would have to fit into Angel’s life, which meant he would have to deal with Angel’s friends. If Gunn was an example of that friendship, it wouldn’t be a bad thing.

 

Sobering up, Gunn asked the other man, “Did you find out what the demons wanted with Angel?”

 

“Lysner. They’re Lysner demons. The demons were contracted to poison Angel. The demon wouldn’t say who those clients are, or why they wanted him this way. Maybe this was one way they had to incapacitate him and do with him what they wanted to.”

 

“Mmm. Looks like Angel Investigations has a new case. I’ll have the others scout the town, see if people are talking.  Lorne.” Gunn snapped his fingers. “He usually comes up trumps.” Glancing at the vampire on the bed, Gunn got to his feet. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ll go and organize the crew. Call me if there’s a change.”

 

“Sure.”

 

Connor watched him go before turning his eyes to the bed. His father hadn’t so much as twitched. He settled in to wait.

 

+++

 

Coming awake, Connor winced at the crick in his neck. He had fallen asleep in the chair, his head lolling at an odd angle. Massaging his neck, he turned to look at Angel. His father’s eyes were open, watching him. The emotion behind those eyes made his heart lurch.

 

“Hey,” he greeted Angel. “You’re awake.”

 

Angel’s lips parted. Connor’s hearing was acute and still the vampire’s whisper was impossibly quiet.

 

“Hey.”

 

“How are you feeling?” Before Angel could form any words, Connor hurried on. “You’d been poisoned.” And he rushed to explain what had been done to Angel and how they had found an antidote.

 

“How are you?” Angel murmured.

 

“Fine. Dad…I’m sorry that…”

 

“Nothing to be sorry for, Connor. You’re here.”

 

“How are you feeling?” Connor asked again. “You looked like you’d been dumped in a freezer for a few months.”

 

“Stiff.” Angel smiled, and Connor found himself laughing again.

 

“Can you move?”

 

Angel nodded and lifted a hand to prove that he could. Looking down at himself, he grimaced. 

 

“How long was I out?”

 

“Awhile. I think your healing powers went dormant. They should start to work now that you’re cured.”

 

Angel managed to lever himself into a sitting position. He ran a finger down his chest. It came away sticky.

 

“Dad?”

 

“I’m green.”

 

“It’ll wash off.”

 

“And I smell.”

 

Connor nodded, a smile tugging at his mouth.

 

“Like a greenhouse full of roses,” Angel complained.

 

A wide grin split Connor’s lips. “It’ll wash,” he repeated. “A dozen times may do it.” After a beat, he added, “When you’re able we have work to do. The people who put a contract out on you are still out there.”

 

The smile on Angel’s lips rivalled his son’s. Connor had said we.

 

+++

 

 

After Gunn (who had been overjoyed to see the antidote had worked when he had walked in on Connor and Angel chatting) and Connor had headed downstairs, Angel drank the blood Connor had left on his bedside table and, after a moment’s hesitation, refilled the cup from the thermos.  He lay there pondering the question of why he was still around. Why wasn’t he dust? Why the poison and what had they wanted with him, whoever they were? His thoughts naturally turned to Wolfram and Hart. They had the resources and the reasons to nullify him. No. He knew they wanted him dead. He was of no use to them now. The apocalypse averted, his part in it done…unless…He shook his head. This was too ambiguous for the law firm. Their covert ops would have taken him. They had no need for subterfuge.

 

Angel wolfed down the rest of his sustenance, staggered out of bed and stumbled to the bathroom. Hot water needled his wounds, eliciting a hiss. Shampoo and soap irritated his injuries further but he ignored it. Cleanliness was next to Godliness, wasn’t that the old idiom? And for Angel, having been born in a century where hygiene hadn’t been a priority, hot running water was as close to heaven as he was likely to get. He lathered and soaped: green antidote tinged with blood washed down the drain. When he cracked open the bathroom door, Connor was standing there. Arms crossed against his chest, his face forbidding.

 

“This is resting,” his son said with a glower.

 

Determined not to stumble as he pushed past him, Angel said, “Is it gone?”

Towelling his hair, he searched for a clean shirt.

 

“The goop is gone. Your skin is back to its pale self.”

 

Angel snatched up a black shirt. “The smell?” he asked hopefully. The antidote must have gone up his nose. It was all he could smell at the minute. He heard Connor inhale.

 

“Well?” Angel turned around, grabbing at the towel that threatened to fall off his hips.

 

The look on his son’s face didn’t hold promise.

 

“It could be the room,” Connor hedged.

 

Angel threw the shirt on the dresser before disappearing back into the bathroom. The door rattled on its hinges when it slammed shut.

 

Connor chuckled as he left the room. “How much hot water have you got?”

 

His father didn’t hear over the shower’s thunder.

 

+++

 

Connor’s grin was still in place when he returned to the lobby.

 

Gunn asked him, “Still in the shower?”

 

“Back in the shower. Do vampires prune?”

 

Gunn shrugged his shoulders, his teeth gleaming white in its wide smile. “All the times the man has spent in the shower, I’ve never seen it.”

 

“What’ve we got?”

 

Gunn scratched his head. “Not a lot. Nothing from Lorne yet. He was gonna ask around. Let’s hope the rest of the team come up with something.”

 

“Lysners are known for their incredible sense of smell,” Ricky said.

 

“They have something in common with vampires, then.”

 

“More than that. The book says,” Ricky held up a battered old tome, “Lysners boast they can distinguish the difference between one molecule and another. I think that’s why they’re in the fragrance business.” His eyes returned to the page. “ ‘The Lysner has a sensitive organ – on a human it would be called a nose – that can detect a scent, and name it, on the barest hint, almost non-existent breath of a particle.’” He looked up. “Handy skill.”

 

Gunn nodded, glancing across at Connor. “Good for tracking a person too.”

 

His finger on the map, Ricky asked Connor to show him where he had found the Lysner lair. Ricky’s shoulders slumped in disappointment. It was nowhere near where Angel had been found earlier. Connor touched his arm, sensing his disappointment.

 

“Angel was leading them away from here. We don’t know what they intended to do.”

 

“Try looking up known associates of Lysner demons on the internet,” Gunn suggested. At Connor’s look he said, “What? You’d be surprised what we’ve found on the net.”

 

+++

 

The lobby appeared deserted when Angel made it downstairs. He followed the sound of Ricky’s heartbeat and found him at the computer. The scent of his son and the rest of his crew lingered still. They hadn’t been gone long.

 

“Where has everybody gone?” he asked, startling Ricky, making him jump.

 

“Sorry.” Angel forgot how silent he could be.

 

Placing a hand over his pounding heart, ashen-faced, Ricky said, “Gunn and Connor went back to the Lysner lair, and the rest went bar hopping to find out if anyone knows anything.”

 

Angel was disappointed. His son had gone on ahead without him. “The Lysner lair, do you know where it is?”

 

Ricky showed him on the map. Angel’s wounds decided for him. He would take the car.

 

The Plymouth purred down the street, Angel behind the wheel. He was glad he hadn’t sold off the car when he had accepted the position at Wolfram and Hart. He’d left the vehicle with a mechanic, telling the man he could use the car whenever he wanted in exchange for its care.  Arnold loved classic cars and was delighted with the deal. Besides, he owed Angel. The vampire had intervened in a robbery, saving Arnold’s life a few years back.

 

When Angel arrived at the address he had been given, the door to the store front stood wide open. Fearing the worst, Angel barged through the entrance in search of Gunn and Connor. Signs of a scuffle greeted him, but the place was empty. Hearing familiar voices, Angel slid behind the counter and slipped through the door that led him to the store room. Connor and Gun had a demon backed into a corner. It was battered and bloodied.

 

His son, without glancing his way, repeated what he had said earlier, “This is resting?”

 

“I didn’t want to miss out on the fun.”

 

“I don’t know anything,” the Lysner demon wailed, his eyes wide and staring at Angel.

 

“You know enough to recognise Angel,” Gunn put in, poking at the demon with the haft of his axe.

 

“I know who he is, yes. He’s the target. I’m not a part of it. I’m the store manager, and I hear and see things. I saw a picture of him one day. Elmor tried to hide it when I came into the room.”

 

“Where do we find Elmor?”

 

“The vampire killed him. He was the only one that could’ve helped you.”

 

Connor and Gunn turned to look pointedly at Angel before looking back at their prisoner.

 

“How come you’re talking to us?” Connor asked. “Your clan left one of you to die. What changed?”

 

“Nothing. I don’t go for any of that Samurai crap. That’s what those warrior types believe in. Do or die. No in between for any of them.”

 

Angel frowned.

 

“Not everyone is cut out for mercenary duty,” the Lysner finished.

 

Gunn and Connor backed away from the demon. Maybe they had been a little hasty.

 

“Thanks for your help. Uh, sorry…about the bruising and all,” Gunn apologised.

 

‘This?” The demon looked down at himself. “Most of this was done by my people trying to get away from you.” It shook its head as it made its way from out of the room.  “Talk about a stampede.”

 

“You killed our only lead,” Connor said, turning to look at his father.

 

“They were trying to kill me.”

 

“They weren’t trying to kill you.”

 

“How was I supposed to know? They should’ve asked politely?” He forgot about his wounds and shrugged. Trying to ignore the pain the shrug caused, Angel continued. “Stand still for a moment while we inject a poison into your system.” He glowered at his son. “I don’t think so.”

 

Gunn stepped in. “Easy, Angel. Connor didn’t mean anything by it.”

 

Angel rubbed his face and looked sheepishly at Connor. “Sorry. I guess I’m a little uptight.”

 

Connor patted him on the arm, leading the way out of the storeroom. “Any tighter and we’d be using you to string a bow. That’s why you should be home, resting. We can handle this.”

 

“Nothing left to handle. This is a dead end,” Gunn reminded them. “Let’s hope the others stumble over a lead.”

 

+++

 

 

The premises stank, and it wasn’t the pus demon sitting in the corner, nor the Chaos demon, antlers dripping. The place stank, period. Kim shuddered and snatched back the hand she had placed on the bar. It came away sticky. She didn’t want to know. Sniffing at her hand, she made a face, and rubbed her hand across the broad back standing beside her.

 

The figure the back belonged to turned about with a growl. A single eye, set in a nightmare face, blinked at her, and she hurried away, all thoughts of a drink forgotten.

 

“Let’s get out of here,” she hissed in Devon’s ear.

 

He pretended to ignore her, she could tell.

 

“Did you hear what I said? This place is gross.”

 

He sipped his beer. “You wanted to come.”

 

“I swear this place is nastier than the last one.”

 

“You said that last time.”

 

“Besides,” he added when she opened her mouth to protest, “we’re here to gather information, and we can’t do that by rushing away.”

 

Kim snapped her mouth shut. Devon had a point. Still…

 

She looked about for a seat. There was one free at the next table. When she scooted over to retrieve it, the demons, Goquin, she recalled Devon saying, sitting there leered at her and asked her for a lap dance. Giving them the finger and purloining the chair did nothing for her mood. And when she sat down, something squished wetly under her ass.

 

“Ew! What on earth?”

 

She heard the demons laugh when she lifted herself up to check her pants. Her hand came away sticky.

 

“Is everything sticky in this hell hole?” she moaned, rummaging in her pockets for a tissue.

 

“It was probably the Chaos demon,” Michael said, coming up behind her.

 

“How did it go?” Devon asked him, getting to his feet and draining the last of his beer.

 

“Nothing. Nobody knows squat.”

 

“And you believe them?”

 

Michael shrugged. It had been difficult for Michael to accept that not all demons were evil, and he knew it showed when he was mingling, wanting information from said demons. He did his best to overcome his dislike and he had hoped that it was working.

 

“Did you offer money?” Kim asked, valiantly wiping at her backside.

 

“Do you need a hand with that?” Devon asked with a grin.

 

She glared at him. “Try it and you’ll be singing soprano.”

 

Michael’s lips twitched in amusement.  “Of course I offered money. Nobody’s talking.”

 

“Enough money?” Kim asked him.

 

Michael felt his eyes roll.  A habit he had picked up since joining Angel Investigations.  “Remind me never to take you with us next time.”

 

Devon shook his head, grinning. “The Goquins say Lysner demons came into the bar a week or ten days ago.”

 

Kim stared at the Goquin at the next table, hating the smug look on their faces. “Are you sure they’re not taking the piss?” she asked.

 

“No. They’re alright those two. They’re celebrating an occasion and, well, practical jokes seem to be part of the equation.” Devon, apparently, had no trouble socializing with demons.

 

“And?”

 

“One of the Goquin overheard a snippet of conversation that’s of real interest to us.”

 

Kim and Michael studied the Goquin. With those ears they could hear a conversation in the bar down the road, Kim thought. The ears were large, bony, spiral appendages that sat on the side of the head like those horrible twists of hair Princess Leia wore in Star Wars. She shuddered. That had to have been one of the worst fashion statements she had ever seen.

 

“And they’re listening to us right now,” she said, her eyes on the demons in question.

 

“What snippet?” Michael asked, impatient for the information.

 

“I’ll tell you outside. Night, Ladies.” Devon nodded at the two Goquin, who raised their glasses in reply.

 

“Ladies?” Kim gawped at them. “But…but they asked me to...”

 

Devon grinned at her. “Even demons can have same sex partnerships.”

 

“Yeah, well, it’s hard to tell under all that hair,” she muttered.

 

 

+++

 

 

Kim was practically bouncing on her feet. “Tell them.”

 

Devon glared at her. “Give me a chance.”

 

Michael said, “The Old Ones.”

 

Devon turned his glare on Michael. “Pre-empt me, why don’t you?”

 

“The Old Ones?” Gunn got out, his voice breaking on a high note. Oh God, It was his nightmare all over again. He had barely managed to survive Fred being hollowed out and turned into a God King, and now it appeared as if Angel had been selected to house yet another Old One. As if Angelus hadn’t been bad enough…He glanced at Angel. The vampire’s face could’ve been set in stone.

 

“Word is,” Devon said, regaining control of the conversation, “there’s a group who want to bring back an Old One.”

 

“Been there, done that,” Gunn muttered, his eyes burning bright with anger.

 

“Wolfram and Hart?”

 

Devon looked at his boss. “No, at least, not according to the Goquin. A demon was grumbling to his buddy about a contract the Lysner had. He was put out that he had missed out on the job.”

 

“Did the demon mention who was doing the hiring?” Connor had a cup of Ricky’s coffee in his hand and was sitting in a chair in front of Angel’s desk. They were all crowded in there, Devon, Michael, and Kim having found Angel and his companions in the office.

 

“No. Only that whoever it was had money and plenty of it. They were offering a huge amount for the job.”

 

Gunn snapped his fingers and got to his feet. “Gwen. She has her ear to the ground. I bet she’ll have heard something on the grapevine, especially if the reward is big enough.”

 

Angel nodded as his friend pushed by him, wondering why he hadn’t thought of Gwen in the first place. Had the poison addled his brains? He glanced across at Connor. Maybe his son’s presence had something to do with it. He hid his smile. Connor raised an eyebrow at him. Had the boy caught his thought? Impossible.

 

“Who’s Gwen?” Connor asked.

 

Kim saved Angel the explanation. “Gwen Raiden. She’s…unusual. A professional thief.”

 

“Unusual? How?”

 

“The woman’s a freak.” Ricky held up his hands at Connor’s expression. “Her words, not mine. She has some kind of electrical current running through her. It’s enough to kill you if she touches you. Gunn knows. She killed him once.”

 

“She’s helped us out a few times.” Angel’s words were quietly spoken, almost a whisper. Connor wondered at the emotion in his father’s eyes.  “The first time we met her…there was an accident. She revived Gunn by restarting his heart.”

 

Connor wanted to ask if Gwen’s touch was anything like that of a taser’s, but considering that he had used such a device on his father he closed his mouth on the words.

 

“Perhaps this is the break we need,” Connor said instead. “Up till now nobody has heard squat about this contract on you.”

 

“Did the Goquin know who this demon was?” Ricky asked.

 

“No. However, they did say the demon was a Slasser.”

 

“Slasser are big on fighting, not big on brains,” said Angel.

 

Kim said, “So that’s why it didn’t get the job.”

 

“You need to go back out again,” Angel said, getting to his feet. Running his hands along the spines of the books filling his shelves, his fingers landed on the book he was looking for. Rescuing it from its resting place, he placed it on the desk.

 

“There’s a description of the Slasser inside. It prefers warm, moist places to nest.”

 

“Like a Chinese laundry?” Michael said to Angel’s retreating back.

 

“Yeah.” Angel was at his weapons cabinet, reaching for his sword. “Try Chungs and Li Fangs.  There are Slassers living near both establishments. I’m going downtown to see Sun and Sung Lee.”

 

“I’m with you,” Connor said coming up beside him.

 

Angel would like nothing better, but he said, “Wouldn’t the others be safer if you went with them?”

 

“We did just fine before Connor arrived,” Kim retorted, offended, having followed them from the office.

 

Gunn finished up his call, and, taking in the situation, said, “Besides, they’ll have me to keep them company.”

 

Kim rolled her eyes, but the smile she gave him told Gunn that it was okay with her.

 

Gunn looked over at Angel. “Gwen hasn’t heard anything, but she’s going to dig around for us.” And because he thought that Angel was still in danger and Connor would be Angel’s best line of defence, he added, “And Connor can keep up with you; we can’t, so just go.”

 

“Since when are you the boss?” asked Kim, teasing him.

 

“Since he makes sense,” Michael said from behind her.

 

Kim turned around. Ricky held up the book Angel had given them. On the open page she caught sight of a reptilian-looking demon. There were definitely scales, a forked tongue, and slit eyes.

 

“And what makes them so dangerous?” she asked.

 

“Their love of knives. Don’t worry, their fangs aren’t venomous.”

 

“Fangs. Angel…?” When Kim turned back both Angel and Connor had gone.

 

“Great! Now there are two of them that do that.”

 

Gunn chuckled. “Come on. Weapon up.”

 

 

+++

 

 

“This is not a laundromat,” Connor said looking about Sung Lee’s establishment. There was no sign of washing machines or dryers. There was a counter, behind which a tired-looking Asian man sat reading a paper and a brightly coloured beaded-curtained doorway loomed.

 

“It’s a bath house,” Angel said before stepping forward.

 

The man with the newspaper put it down and stood. “Angel,” he said with small bow and a smile.

 

Angel inclined his head. “Sung Lee. This is Connor.”

 

Connor bowed his head, following his father’s lead. “Pleased to meet you.”

 

“Likewise,” Sung Lee acknowledged, before turning back to Angel. “What brings you here, Angel? I haven’t seen you in a while.”

 

“Slasser demons. Giving you any more trouble?”

 

“No, thanks to you. They’ve packed up and gone.”

 

“Do you know where?”

 

“The Five Star gymnasium a couple of streets over. Gerry and his family haven’t caused trouble since moving there.”

 

“Thank you, Sung Lee. How’s Jiao-jie?”

 

 “She’s studying medicine at college now. She’s going to be a doctor.” Sung Lee was very proud of his daughter and it showed.

 

“Good for her. Tell her I said hello.”

 

“That I will, Angel. You take care now, and you, too, young man.” Sung Lee waved them out the door.

 

“Jiao-jie?” Connor asked as they got back in the car.

 

Angel put the key in the ignition and started the car. He answered Connor’s question once they were out in traffic.

 

“Sung Lee’s daughter.  The Slassers thought they could help themselves to Sung Lee’s cliental once they left the bath house. After the third mugging, Jiao-jie decided to call in an expert.”

 

“You.”

 

“Yeah, but the girl was hurt before I arrived. She followed a client from the premises and was cut in the ensuing robbery. The scent of her blood drew me to her location. It wasn’t far, but she had been left lying in a filthy alleyway and would’ve died if she hadn’t been found.”

 

“What did you do?”

 

“Took her to the hospital.”

 

Connor rolled his eyes. “Of course you did. The demons?”

 

“Located the nest and killed the ones responsible.”

 

“You let some of them go?”

 

“The males of the species are the violent ones. Sound familiar?” Connor noted the twist of his father’s lips when he turned to look at him. Angel continued, “I let the females and their young live, and any male that didn’t seem to be a threat.”

 

“I thought you said Slasser demons liked to slice and dice?”

 

“That’s their preferred weapon, but not all lean towards a life of crime. Some become butchers, others work in abattoirs, and not a few are chefs. There’s a Japanese restaurant uptown that has a great Slasser sushi chef.”

 

Connor stared at his father. Angel knew what a sushi chef was? Odder still was Angel knowing about sushi. 

 

“I thought you don’t eat?” he accused.

 

“I used to go to restaurants.”

 

Connor raised his eyebrows. “Used to?”

 

Angel saw a place to park, and pulled in.

 

“We’re here.”

 

 

+++

 

 

“What’s the story with Connor?” Kim asked Gunn.

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“Connor’s done something to Angel,” she explained.

 

“What?”

 

“I’ve never seen Angel take to a person so quickly,” Devon said.

 

“And I think I saw a hint of a smile, once,” Michael put in.

 

“So what’s the skinny?” Kim demanded.

 

Gunn felt like General Custer all of a sudden.

 

“That’s for Angel to say,” he said, ducking for cover. “Come on, this is a bust.”

 

Li Fangs and Chungs were a Slasser free zone. It was as if the demons had known they were coming.

 

“I hope Angel and Connor had better luck.”

 

They hadn’t.  Sun had confirmed what they all suspected. Something had put the wind up the demons. The clan had all packed up and left town. 

 

“Wolfram and Hart.”

 

Angel’s right hand was idly rubbing circles on the left side of his chest.

 

“The firm could’ve run them out of town.”

 

Gunn wasn’t buying it. “They would’ve killed them all. It’s not their style to run demons out of town.”

 

“Well someone has the demons scared. Who else would have that kind of pull?” Michael asked.

 

“There’s plenty of evil out there who think they’ve got what it takes,” Gunn said.

 

“An evil we know nothing about? That’s not the usual,” Devon said.

 

“They’re the worst kind.”

 

All eyes turned to Connor. He continued. “Our ordinary garden variety demon, we know. Like vampires, we know what they’re about.”

 

“Kill to feed,” said Michael. “As if that’s not bad enough.”

 

“It’s bad for the victim and their families, true. But there’s an agenda here.”

 

“Vampires can sometimes have an agenda,” Gunn put in.

 

Connor agreed. “It would have to be a vampire that’s in the same league as…”

 

“Angelus.”

 

Everyone stared at Angel. Although Connor had made his feelings perfectly clear on vampires, especially Angelus, on his return from Quor Toth, Angel didn’t know how Connor felt about his demon now. They hadn’t discussed it, hadn’t had a chance, really, and his mouth refused to stop.

 

“I tried to suck the world into hell, once.”

 

When the silence had dragged on a bit too long for his liking, Gunn said, “Illyria. God Kings. World domination.”

 

“You think Illyria’s behind this?” Angel wasn’t so sure.

 

Gunn shook his head. “I don’t know what to think. She helped us once, but who’s to know what she, it, is thinking? Perhaps she wants to become all powerful again. Maybe she thinks by bringing back another Old One she can achieve that.”

 

“She’s with Spike, in Europe.”

 

“Have we checked?”

 

“You know how it is, Gunn.”

 

Yeah, that’s right. Spike doesn’t carry a phone.

 

“Besides,” Angel said with a sigh, “Can you see Illyria sharing? I don’t think so.”

 

A cell phone’s jingle sounded. It was Gunn’s.

 

“Hey, Denzel.”

 

“Gwen. I hope this means you’ve got some information.”

 

“I’m fine, and thanks for asking.”

 

“Sorry, it’s just…”

 

“World in peril. I get it. There is a contract out on Angel.”

 

“Don’t you mean was?”

 

“Still is, Babe. These people want results.”

 

“Which people?” He had everyone’s attention now. He knew Angel could hear Gwen, but the others couldn’t. They were silent, watching his facial expressions for clues and hanging on his every word.

 

“I don’t know who they are, per se. I have a contact number. I don’t suppose you want it, do you?” she teased.

 

 

Angel passed a notepad and pen over to him. Gunn wrote down the number. He wasn’t going to ask how she got the information. The woman valued her contacts and kept them close to her chest. “Thanks a lot, Gwen. We had nothing our end.”

 

She laughed. “You’re welcome. You owe me dinner.”

 

He grinned into the phone. “It’s a date. I’ll call when I’m free.”

 

“I’ll be waiting,” she purred before hanging up.

 

Gunn put the others out of their misery. “The contract on Angel is still up for grabs.” His finger stabbed at the number he had written down. “It’s time to find out who’s behind this.”

 

“Let Kim handle this,” Angel said.

 

Kim, surprised, said, “Me? Why?”

 

“They won’t be expecting a woman. Do you think you can handle it?”

 

Kim stared at her boss. “What do I say?”

 

“Make something up.”

 

“Okay.” Taking a huge breath, she pulled out her phone and tapped in the number.

 

When the call was answered, a voice said, “How may we help you?”

 

“I’m interested in the job offer.”

 

“And you are?”

 

“Someone who can deliver.”

 

“Who recommended you?”

 

Kim began to panic. What should she say? The notepad was shoved under her nose. Written there was the word Retlack.  Who? she mouthed at Angel.  While Angel was writing his answer, she said, “I don’t think that’s any of your business.”

 

“Good bye.”

 

“Wait! Alright. If you insist. I’m sure Retlack wouldn’t mind just this once.” She hoped she didn’t sound like she was babbling.

 

Angel had written ‘mercenary’ on the pad. And the answer appeared to have satisfied the person on the line.

 

“Be outside the New Beverly cinema in one hour.”  There was a click as the call was ended. 

 

“The New Beverly cinema,” she said out loud. “One hour.”

 

“Michael, you go to the meet with Kim. Gunn, you take the others, Ricky too, if you want.”

 

“I want,” the young man said eagerly.

 

“Spread out and cover the area. Don’t let Kim and Michael out of your sight.”

 

“And you, Boss?”

 

Angel’s gaze cut to Connor. “We’ll be there.”

 

+++

 

 

The cinema was situated on West Beverly Boulevard, just one block west of La Brea. Angel recognized the building. It had once served as a vaudeville theatre, having been built in the early twentieth century. And he had visited it when it had been a night club later in that century. For the last thirty years it had been a cinema.

 

There weren’t that many places that afforded cover for his team, and yet they were inconspicuous. Angel and Connor peered down into the street from the roof of the cinema. Devon was inside the car, keeping an eye on the cinema from across the road. Gunn was in the foyer of the cinema, buying popcorn. Both Angel and Connor could smell the sweet aroma from where they lay. Ricky was slouched on the pavement, his hair tousled and his tee dirty and torn, a bottle tumbled free of its wrapper and lay on its side. A cap crumpled under a handful of coins beside him. Ricky was the beggar that people would not look twice at.

 

Michael and Kim stood outside the doors, the sign above declaring a Hitchcock classic. The person who approached them was nondescript: an average-looking young man with a bland exterior. Not at all what some would expect from a dastardly evil-doer.

 

“Who’s this then?” the young man snapped when he stood before them.

 

“My associate,” Kim replied tersely.

 

“Who did you say sent you?” he said, testing them.

 

Kim stuck her hip out with disdain. “Retlack. Is there a problem with that?”

 

“And you are?”

 

“Bonnie and Clyde,” she said. “Do you think I’m stupid? Names are a dangerous thing.”

 

The young man smiled a crocodilian smile. “We require a name if you wish to work for us.”

 

“Contracting, not an employee,” Kim corrected with a snarl.

 

Michael laid a hand on her arm. “Chloe. Don’t”

 

“Chloe…? You’re Chloe Clifton?” The young man’s eyes went wide in surprise.

 

Angel had told her that she looked a little like the killer Chloe Clifton, and with a blonde wig, even more so. The woman had been on the run for a couple of years now: the police having had no sightings of her in all that time. Her partner in crime was boyfriend Patrick Bower, and Michael had the build and colouring of the man. A pair of glasses and Michael was that man. That was their cover.

 

No one other than Angel knew that Chloe and Patrick were dead and that he had had a hand in their deaths. The pair had contracted to snatch a baby and kill the parents. The baby was going to be food for the demon that had a grudge against the child’s parents.  Fortunately for the parents, they had called on Angel because they had feared they had a ghost in the house. Things had been moved around, without apparent cause. A ghost hadn’t been haunting the house. What the Chadwicks had was a gremlin, and one that had taken a shine to the baby. The gremlin had been trying to alert the Chadwicks to the impending danger. It had sensed a presence, somebody lurking about. The gremlin hadn’t been able to manifest to the humans’ eyes, but Angel’s preternatural vision had spotted it immediately. Angel had lain in wait for the assassins to make a move, and the killers had found themselves outmatched. A baby had been at risk. Angel had shown no mercy.

 

Chloe glared at the young man. “As I said, Bonnie and Clyde. Can we get down to business?”

 

“Not here…”

 

“We’re not going anywhere with you,” Patrick interrupted him. “How do we know you’re not with the Feds?”

 

The man rolled his eyes at the suggestion and, despite Chloe’s paranoia, said, “The name’s Hector. Let’s go inside.”

 

The foyer inside was deserted, except for the black man behind the confectionery stand. He was too busy adding more corn to the popcorn machine to pay them any mind. Hector led them to a dark corner where they couldn’t be overheard. He handed Chloe an envelope. Inside, she found a photo of Angel and a summary of his whereabouts and his business concerns.

 

“You want us to kill a vampire?” Chloe sneered. “Any idiot can do it.”

 

“He’s already dead.” Hector left the fool unsaid. He wondered if Chloe’s reputation was not a little exaggerated. “Contained is what we want.”

 

“We?” said Patrick.

 

“Not your business.” From his pocket Hector produced a glass vial. “This potion is guaranteed to stop him in his tracks. Just make sure that it penetrates the skin.”

 

Chloe pursed her lips, considering what they had been told. “Why this particular vampire?”

 

“Again, not your business. You’ll be paid handsomely.” He named a figure.

 

If Chloe and Patrick were surprised at the size of the payment, they didn’t show it.

 

“Half now,” Patrick commanded.

 

Chloe wouldn’t be deterred. “What has the vampire done to upset your employers?”

 

“Do you want the job or not?”

 

Chloe pretended to think it over. She moved her hand to the inside of her jacket as if she had a gun hidden there. “If we say no, then what?”

 

Hector smiled. “I’ll cast a forget-me spell. There’s no need to go to extremes.”

 

“Have we heard enough?” Patrick said.

 

A voice from behind said, “I think so.”

 

Hector whirled about to face the person that was standing there. It was the vampire Angel. Before Hector could think another thought he was hit on the back of the head. He slumped to the floor, senseless. Kim hefted the cosh she had pulled from her pocket, a pleased grin on her lips.

 

Gunn emerged from behind the theatre’s snack bar, leaving a tip on the counter for the unconscious attendant on the floor. He disappeared through the doors that led outside.

 

Michael said, “Do you think he will talk?”

 

“We can try beating it out of him,” Kim declared, earning her a look from her companions.

 

“Or a truth spell?” 

 

Connor appeared suddenly at Angel’s side.  “Do we have truth spells?”

 

“Lorne,” Gunn suggested as he rejoined them. He pulled out his cell phone and made a call.

 

Angel was staring at the young man at his feet. “I can make him sing,” he said in a voice that made the hair stand up on the back of everyone’s neck.

 

Ricky stuck his head round the doors. “Devon’s parked out front. The coast is clear.” Connor had taken care of Hector’s two bodyguards who had been outside the door. The men had been easy to spot despite the fact they had been a few paces behind their boss. Ricky and Devon had helped him move the unconscious men to another location; the sewers.

 

Angel leaned over, and with no effort at all, hauled Hector up and settled him over his shoulder. Once he had the man in the trunk of the car, Angel told his people to go back to the hotel.

 

+++

 

Lorne was circling the person tied to the chair, a drink in his hand.

 

“Things never change,” he said with a shake of his head.

 

A hand clapped Lorne on the shoulder. The hand belonged to Gunn. “This time it isn’t you in the chair.”

 

Lorne no longer worked for Angel. He had made that clear the day they took on the Black Thorn, and had never intended to look Angel in the face again.  But as they say time heals all wounds, and Lorne – if he was willing to admit it – missed the big lug and had turned up one night to say hi. They called on him form time to time and Lorne was happy to help out as long as it didn’t involve violence.

 

Sweat dribbled down the prisoner’s face. The underarms of his shirt were soaking wet. “What are you going to do to me?” he asked, trying not to show his fear. Angel could smell it anyway. 

 

Lorne sipped at his sea breeze. “Why, have you sing, of course.”

 

Hector shook his head. He knew about Lorne’s abilities. He had had no trouble recognizing the demon. “I can’t do that.”

 

“Listen, compadre,” Lorne leaned in until they were eye to eye. “It’s either you sing for me voluntarily, or Angel gets to play with you. And believe me when I say he’s a dab hand with sharp objects.”

 

Hector’s head whipped about to stare at the vampire in question. The twist of Angel’s lips and the glint in his eyes had Hector’s stomach clenching in terror.

 

“You’re supposed to be the good guy,” he moaned.

 

The vampire’s lips widened into a smirk. “Supposed.”

 

Hector flinched. He capitulated.

 

He sang a tune that Angel hadn’t heard before.  Lorne, however, was nodding to the beat, if one could call it a beat. 

 

“Well, well, well. Haven’t we been a bad boy?”  Lorne was smiling at the lad.

 

“I’d say there was another snake in the garden, Angel. And it isn’t named Adam.”

 

“Eve?” Angel and Gunn chorused at the same time.

 

“Are Wolfram and Hart pulling her strings?”

 

“No, Cupcake. This is her baby. Eve did mention she was going to get her revenge.” Lorne’s smile slipped. The Pylean was the one who had killed Lindsey, and even if it was under Angel’s orders, it wasn’t something that Lorne wanted to think about too much.

 

Something of his thoughts must have shown on his face because Angel’s voice was soft.  “I never knew what happened to her. I had hoped…” He trailed off, his thoughts on the past.

 

“You know, Eve was always hanging around the office,” Gunn said. “Even though she didn’t know what the Senior Partners kept hidden from her, she did know who our clients were and how things were done. It’s not impossible that she knows how to bring forth another Old One. She is trying to do that, right?” he asked Lorne, his eyes on Hector.

 

Hector closed his eyes, feeling dejected. He had ruined everything. It wasn’t supposed to be this way. His bodyguards were there to protect him and they had done their job well when dealing with others in the demon world. But when it came to the crunch, when they had to deal with Angel and his bunch of do-gooders, they had failed spectacularly.

 

“It’s all part of her plan. Revenge on Angel and, hopefully with an Old One at her side, a one finger salute to the Senior Partners.”

 

Gunn snorted. “An Old One won’t take orders from a lowly human.”

 

Angel said, “Where is she?”

 

 

+++

 

 

The suburban house sat squat in the middle of a row of houses. It was a dingy, unwelcoming address. The street was untidy and run down. Lawns were either lost in a jungle of weeds or were dusty patches of earth. Cracks crawled through pavement, and not a few homes needed a facelift. Lamplight was minimal. The city had decided the lights weren’t worth replacing. A sign declared the street designated as a development site. The house and its neighbours would all be bulldozer fodder in the weeks and months to come.

 

Angel stared at the house in question. “Not the sort of place Eve would hang out.”

 

He and Connor were crouched on the roof of the house next door. As far as they could see, there was no sign of life at the address they had been given. There was no sign of life anywhere in the street.

 

“Did I meet her?” Connor asked.

 

“No. She knew who you were. For some reason she was the only one besides me that remembered you. And Cordelia…” Angel ran out of words. What was wrong with him, bringing up the past?

 

To Angel, Connor’s voice sounded strained when he asked, “What happened to her?” 

 

Angel stared at him, unsure what to say but not wanting to lie to him. He never wanted to lie to Connor ever again. “We thought Cordelia had woken up from her coma. She spent little more than a day with us at Wolfram and Hart. Cordy told me she was assigned a different road. The Powers That Be…” Angel swallowed, the memory still sharp with grief. “She died, Connor. I’m sorry.”

 

Connor tried to process what he was feeling. He felt as if he should be grief-stricken and he wasn’t. His other life, his true life was like a distant dream. And if he concentrated, bits and pieces came into focus, but he wouldn’t allow the emotion, if there were emotions, to flood his senses. He didn’t want to be that angry young man. He didn’t want to lose what he had, and that included this budding relationship with his father. Angel was watching him, and it was then that Connor realised Angel could be mistaken for his brother. They were physically of an age. It was…surprising, and a reminder that Angel would one day look like he was the son and Connor the father.

 

“Connor?” His father’s voice was full of concern. “I didn’t mean to bring up…”

 

He shook his head. “No, it’s alright. I remember what happened to Cordelia and to me. I…” He paused, wondering how he could convey what he was feeling. “I don’t know how to explain it better. It’s like a dream. It’s surreal, not at all real but you know it’s the truth. My mind shies away from the…terrible…things…I…”

 

A hand fell on his shoulder. He felt Angel give a gentle squeeze before the weight of it disappeared.

 

“It’s alright, son. We’ve all done terrible things.”

 

Angel’s voice was thick, as if Angel had something stuck in his throat.  Connor felt the tension ease a bit in his shoulders.

 

The touch of fingers whispered across his cheek and was gone.

 

“Stay here,” floated in the night air.

 

“What?” Connor looked to where Angel had been. He was gone, disappearing in the way vampires were able to do.

 

“Damnit!”

 

Connor had agreed to stay put, to come to the rescue if needs be. Only Connor hadn’t really intended to do that. He didn’t want Angel going in alone. It had been explained to him the mechanics of bringing forth an Old One, and he hadn’t liked what he had heard. If his father got infected then there was nothing anyone could do. Except, perhaps, try to destroy what his father would become. And Connor was done with that. He was ready to drop to the ground in pursuit when he saw the door of the house close. Angel was already inside.

 

 

+++

 

The house was deserted, but of course Angel already knew that.  The odd piece of furniture sat like forgotten members of the family; sad, forlorn, and worn out. The upstairs bedrooms were empty, a bare mattress, stained and tattered, the only thing left behind. The kitchen was clean and tidy: he could smell disinfectant. There were plates in the cupboard, and when he opened the fridge the light came on to illuminate shelves filled with food. Beside the pantry, a closed door begged to be opened. Stairs showed the way down to a cellar. The lights weren’t quite as accommodating.  Angel gave the switch one last try before he followed the steps down. He paused at the bottom, sensing someone was near. The scent, when it hit his nose was familiar. Eve was nearby, probably watching him. Looking about, Angel could see that it wasn’t a typical basement. The floor wasn’t cement. Angel could feel the difference as he crossed the room. It was made of steel. He bet the walls were steel also. A sarcophagus sat in stony silence in the centre of the room.

 

Angel drew his sword and stepped up to the ancient casket. He knew the sarcophagus was the one belonging to the God King Illyria because the crystal Wes had winkled out was missing.  Lights snapped on, blinding him for a moment.

 

“Hello, Angel.”

 

He spun about. Eve was standing across the room. He could see a door open behind her; it was set beneath the stairs. A crossbow was in her hands, the bolt centred on his heart.

 

“Eve.”

 

“Not surprised to see me? I’m disappointed.”

 

“No you’re not. You set the trap…”

 

“And you walked right in.” Eve tilted her head. “Why?”

 

“Just curious.”

 

Eve’s smile was smug. “You know what the say… curiosity killed the cat.”

 

Angel flashed his fangs. “Meow.”

 

The former liaison to the Senior Partners’ smile slipped.  “If you think your buddies are going to save you, then think again.”

 

“What are you going to do, Eve? Shoot me? I can be across the room before the bolt is released from the bow.”

 

Eve looked down at the bow in her hands and then up again at Angel. “This?” She shrugged and threw the weapon to the ground. “You forget, Angel. I know more about you than you do.”

 

Angel did not let his surprise show at her actions. He wondered what else Eve had up her sleeves. “Why all the cloak and dagger? I would’ve come if you had called.”

 

Eve crossed her arms. “Would you, Angel? I think not. You’ve become quite the recluse these days. Only world in peril warrants your attention now.”

 

Angel gripped his sword, ready for the slightest hint of danger. “You’ve been keeping tabs on me.”

 

“You killed Lindsey.” Eve spat the words, spittle flying from her mouth.

 

“He should have stayed away.”

 

“Everyone you know dies, Angel.”

 

He felt hollow. It was almost true. “Not everyone,” he whispered.

 

“Soon enough,” she crowed, and turned away.

 

Angel leapt towards her and slammed into an invisible barrier. Rocking back on his heels he shook his head to clear it.

 

Eve turned her head to look at him.

 

“What? Surprised?” She swivelled about to face him fully. “It’s a containment field. It activated as soon as you stepped through. One of the things I learnt at the firm. The walls and floor are steel. No way in, no way out.  And don’t think your friends can bust open the doors. They’re steel, heavy grade, and even if they do get in you will be dead.”

 

“I’m always dead, Eve.”

 

“Really dead.”

 

Angel looked about the room. The light from the single globe bounced off the surrounding surfaces. They were steel, gleaming and reflecting everything in sight. Well, almost everything. Angel was nowhere to be seen in its polish.

 

“Oh!”

 

Angel snapped his head around to look at his captor.  Eve was moving up the stairs.

 

“I forgot to mention. The sun comes up in…” she made a show of looking at her watch, “a couple of hours. And if you’re worried about the lack of windows?”

 

At her words a section of the ceiling slid aside to reveal a large window. Beyond the window it was dark, the night sky cloud-filled and starless.

 

“Your band of merry men can try and cover the window from above, and they’ll fail. The sky isn’t above this house, it’s somewhere else. Close by, I agree, but it might as well be in Japan for all the good it’ll do your people. Nifty little gadget, don’t you think? It was something else I picked up from my previous employers.”

 

The bolts Eve had installed on the cellar door would have made a bank proud. They slid into place with a loud thud. Eve patted the door before turning about and making her way down the steps.

 

Angel wasn’t afraid. There was always the sarcophagus if he needed it.

 

As if reading his mind, Eve said, “You could always hide in the coffin, Angel, but I’m afraid you’ll have to share it with some friends of mine. Have you seen The Mummy?”

 

Angel refused to be cowed. “What happened to bringing forth an Old One?”

 

Eve tsked. “How on earth have you survived this long? That was never my intention. A ruse to capture your interest.” Her smile was one of triumph and gloating. “Have I got it?”

 

Angel lashed out with his fists. They rebounded off the invisible walls of his prison. Eve sauntered past and into the doorway, pausing, before making her escape.

 

“I would stay if I could. It would be entertaining to see your team try desperately to rescue you, only to fail and witness your demise. But I have a previous appointment.” Eve slithered out of sight, and Angel heard more bolts slide home.

 

He looked up at the window.

 

+++

 

Connor was on his feet, intent on following after his father. When his feet hit the ground, he was bowled over, a solid mass of moving muscle running over him as if he was road kill. A large boot stomped down to crush his skull but Connor continued to roll out of the way.  Quickly, Connor lashed out with his foot. It was like hitting a slab of concrete.  He scrambled away and up on to his feet. Connor went for the knife Angel had given him. It was gone, lost in the tussle. He didn’t have time to scan the area for it. The demon coming at him was huge.

 

+++

 

Michael was fighting for his life. Vampires were hard to kill, and usually it took cunning and a lot of luck and some not inconsiderable skill. They were impossibly fast and strong, and Michael had two of them looking to eat him. His sword had been yanked from his grip in his attempt to decapitate one of them. His back was to the wall, an improvised stake in his hands: the remains of a table, thrown outdoors to rot. The demons rushed him. He ducked, bringing up his stake and finding the heart of one of the vampires. Keeping his downward movement going, the remaining vampire having hit the wall with a thud, Michael lurched forward and tripped the demon off balance. It swiped at him as it fell away. Michael hissed as pain sliced along his ribs and back.

 

+++

 

Devon had no idea where Kim was. He hoped she had made a run for it but he doubted it. The girl was no coward. Most likely she had ducked for cover and was waiting for the right opportunity to do something. What, he had no idea. It was better than thinking Kim was lying dead somewhere. Devon held onto the lid of a trash can. The monster lurching at him was a thing only seen in nightmares. Its spine was decorated with quills of its own. Wicked-looking spikes that threatened to tear and shred soft human flesh. Similar spikes sprouted from the back of its paws.  Using the lid as a shield, Devon swung his axe. The monster’s block sent the axe tumbling away. It lunged.

 

+++

 

Kicking as hard as he could, Ricky tried to escape the tentacles wrapped about his legs. He was being dragged along the ground, his fingers trying to find purchase on the cracks in the path. The demon was nowhere to be seen but for its writhing appendages. The tentacles had erupted from the remains of the lawn and had captured him in moments. Cheeks ruddy with exertion, Ricky failed to halt his progress. His nails a bloodied mess, he fumbled for the knife he kept on his belt. With swift, sharp, jabs he stabbed at the tentacles. His progress slowed. Ricky stabbed again. The tentacle he impaled unwound from his legs and jerked away, taking the knife with it.

 

“Crap!”

 

+++

 

Lorne was pacing. No matter how hard he stared at the telephone it refused to ring. Several times he caught himself reaching for the device. He paced away. It wouldn’t do to call the team while they were dealing with the enemy, and Eve was the enemy, a very dangerous one. A shiver went through him, and he hoped it wasn’t a premonition. Glancing at his watch, he wondered what had gone wrong.

 

+++

 

Connor somersaulted high and ripped away the rusting downpipe from the side of the house. It would have to do. He swung it at the head of the demon. It swatted it aside with ease, the metal crumpling at the blow. Okay, that wasn’t working. Connor ran up the side of the house and slammed, feet first, into the demon. Using his momentum, he kept on going, leaving behind the staggering hulk. Snatching up the downpipe again, he whacked it against the monster’s shins. It bellowed and tripped, stumbling away from him. Connor belted the demon across the ass with the bent and twisted pipe. The pipe disintegrated. The demon caught its balance and straightened up, turning about. Connor smashed an elbow into the window behind him and plucked up a large piece of glass. He threw it, discus-style. It sliced across the tree-trunk slab of meat it called a neck. The demon raised a massive hand, trying to the stop the gush of blood. It died with a look of surprise stamped on its face.

 

+++

 

Michael staggered, ready to stake the vampire when it attacked. The creature disintegrated in a cloud of dust. Connor stood there, a stake in his hand.

 

“It’s a trap,” Michael gasped.

 

“I know. Are you okay?”

 

Michael nodded. “I’ll have the mother of all bruises tomorrow, but I’ll live.”

 

“We’ve gotta go.”

 

Michael followed after Connor, trying to keep up. But the man was fast. He had disappeared by the time he got to the corner of the house.

 

“Damnit.”

 

+++

 

Kim swung the axe, severing a tentacle.

 

“What?” Ricky cried out in surprise. 

 

He reared back as the blade flashed again. Kim swung the axe, until all that was left were the quivering remains of tentacles. With a grimace, Ricky unwound what was left gripping his legs and climbed shakily to his feet.

 

He gave her a tremulous smile. “Thanks. I thought I was going to be…”

 

“Anytime, but I think Devon needs his axe back. Come on.”

 

Devon was indeed in need of his axe. His shield had all but disappeared under the demon’s onslaught.  The lid could’ve served as a sieve: the demon’s spikes had pierced the metal in a deadly tattoo. The can itself had crumpled under the monster’s feet. Devon had used it in a desperate attempt to stall the beast. When all else fails, run. He ran, the monster hard on his heels. Devon was looking to find a weapon, anything to help fend off the beast at his back. He hit the front door of the house with a bang, and fell through when it slammed back on its hinges. Scrabbling for purchase, he ran through the house, heading for the kitchen and the back door. He was sure the creature was breathing down his neck. It followed him, ramming against walls, scouring them with its spikes as it passed. Scanning the kitchen quickly and finding it empty, Devon made for the back door. He raced through, out of breath, heart hammering, legs intent on bearing him away. The demon made its appearance behind him: the door shattering in its wake, a cascade of glass showering the steps.

 

A roar of pain had Devon looking back over his shoulder. Connor was fighting the demon, an axe in his hand. His axe, Devon realised.  Michael was there, too, swinging a sword. Ricky and Kim stood by, Kim with her crossbow. Devon doubled back but his help wasn’t needed. Connor threw the axe with precision and it bit into the demon’s head. It keeled over without a sound, its legs twitching as life fled.

 

“Is everyone okay?” Devon asked when they had all managed to catch their breath.

 

Ricky rubbed at his legs. His jeans were ripped and torn.

 

“What about Angel?”

 

They all looked at Connor.

 

“He’s in the house next door.”

 

+++

 

Gunn knew he should be back there with his friends. He knew that Angel relied on him to watch his back, and that meant keeping the team alive. But he also knew something about the way people like Eve worked. She would have a bolt hole, an escape route all picked out, and he was the man to find it. And if Eve scuttled out from under a rock, then Gunn would be there to stop her and maybe, just maybe, save Angel’s life, because for Eve to cut and run would mean that Angel was in serious trouble. So here he was, sitting in Kim’s car, in the street that ran parallel to Clifton. There were several vehicles parked along the road, one of them out of place. The car was expensive and new: not at all fitting in with the shabby neighbourhood. He picked his spot carefully so that he could eyeball the car and the road. If Eve showed her face, he wouldn’t miss her.

 

A movement caught his eye. He tensed and then relaxed. It was a dog, lean and hungry. It nosed the gutter and moved away in search of food. Gunn sat, his fingers drumming out a tune. A shadow flitted out from one of the yards. Gunn recognized the shape. It was Eve. He was out of the car and across the road before she could open the door of her vehicle. He pressed a gun to her head.

 

“Going somewhere?”

 

Eve went still, before she remembered that Angel’s lot never killed humans.

 

“Gun, Gunn?”

 

He heard the smirk and wanted to wipe it off her lips.  “Wesley’s.”

 

He felt Eve take in a big breath.

 

“You won’t save him. You can’t get to him.”

 

Gunn felt his insides turn to ice. “You got in, get him out.”

 

She spun about, laughing, not caring about the pistol in her face.  “Too late. My escape route has collapsed behind me. And even if you could dig it out you won’t be in time.”

 

He wanted to ask what she meant but he had no time. He had to get back to the others. Gunn swung his fist. It connected with Eve’s face. He caught her when she fell.

 

“Look who’s collapsed now,” he said as he threw her over his shoulder.

 

+++

 

They threw everything they could at the cellar door. It withstood their onslaught.

 

“It’s only made of wood,” Devon insisted, thumping the door once more.

 

“It’s what’s on the other side that I’m worried about.”

 

Everyone turned to look at Gunn.

 

“What?” Kim asked him.

 

“Angel.”

 

“We know he’s down there…”

 

“He is. It was a trap.”

 

“We know that!” Connor snapped. He slammed his fist against the unyielding door.  “Let’s not waste time talking, and get him out of there.”

 

Gunn held up his hands. “We can’t.”

 

“Says who?”

 

“Eve.”

 

Connor snorted. “And you take what she says as gospel?”

 

“In this, yes. But that doesn’t mean we’re not going to try.”

 

Michael thought about what Gunn had said. “Where is Eve?”

 

“In the living room. I caught her trying to sneak away.”

 

They crowded past Gunn and into the other room. Eve was laid out on the floor, her hands and feet tied. The smile on her face was at odds with her situation.

 

“What’s so funny?” Kim snarled at her.

 

Eve giggled. “The sun will be up soon and Angel will be toast. What’s not to laugh about?”

 

“There must be a window.” Connor raced out the door to check.

 

Kim slapped her, hard. “Bitch!”

 

Ricky grabbed her arm, preventing her from administering another blow. “Kim.”

 

Kim glared at him, resisting for a moment. Eve chuckled, a palm-sized mark blooming on her cheek. Kim turned her eyes back on her.

 

“What have you done with him?”

 

“Whatever it is, we have to get into the cellar.” Gunn snapped his fingers. “Have we brought any explosives with us?”

 

“You know we haven’t.”

 

Gunn raised his eyebrows.

 

“On it.” Devon nearly collided with Connor coming through the door.

 

“No window,” Connor said. He eyed the woman on the floor. “How?”

 

Gunn stared at the former liaison. He wondered if this was another one of her tricks. Deciding that he couldn’t take the chance he said, “It doesn’t matter. We have to get Angel out, now. Come on!”

 

They gathered in the kitchen, Eve’s laughter following them. 

 

“Until Devon gets back let’s try to find a weak spot in the walls.”

 

Ricky hefted Devon’s axe and, with an almighty swing, brought it smashing down on the floor. The axe bit deep, linoleum and wood splintering.

 

“And the floor,” Gunn added with a grim smile.

 

Soon the gang were poking, prodding, stabbing, and cutting their way around the kitchen. Floorboards were ripped up, and walls were showing their undergarments - studs and joists - to the world. Michael slammed the crowbar he had retrieved from the car, into the wall’s lining. There was a metallic clunk. Devon’s axe rang from its last blow too.

 

They peered at the openings. Michael jammed his fingers into the crack.

 

“Shit! It’s steel!”

 

Gunn swore. Connor looked sick.

 

“A room lined with steel. We’ll never get him out.”

 

“We will, but…” Gunn looked at his watch. “The sun’s up soon.”

 

Behind them Eva cackled with glee.

 

+++

 

Devon had arrived back with grenades and other military devices that promised death and retribution on a much larger scale than hand to hand. Connor didn’t ask, and Gunn wasn’t about to tell him where they came from. When they finally made it through the door, the basement was bathed in sunlight. The room gleamed bright as the sun’s rays bounced from wall to wall, and in its centre stood a sarcophagus, a multitude of beetles crawled over it and near it. Amongst the moving mass, dead and crushed beetles lay scattered, partially buried beneath their living counterparts. Of Angel there was no sign.

 

“Oh no!” 

 

“Are those…?” Kim swallowed loudly. “Are those scarab beetles? Like the ones in the movies? They eat people. Alive.”

 

“Angel?” Connor cried, flying down the stairs.

 

“Careful, Connor!” Gunn warned.  “Those beetles are dange…”

 

Connor slammed into an invisible barrier. He recoiled, falling back onto his backside.

 

“What the hell?”

 

Everyone was there, testing the air, touching the wall they couldn’t see.

 

“It’s a spell.”

 

“Black magic.”

 

“A ward.”

 

“Force field.”

 

Eyes turned to look at Ricky.

 

“What? None of you saw Star Wars?”

 

“Angel!” It was Connor, pounding away with his fists at the thing between him and Angel.  “Angel!”

 

Gunn touched him on the shoulder. “Connor.”

 

The look in Connor’s eyes was one of desperation. “I can’t lose him, Gunn. Not now, not after all this time.”

 

Gunn hoped his smile was reassuring. “You won’t. This is Angel. The man has more lives than a cat. He’s inside the sarcophagus, safe. You’ll see.”

 

Connor shivered. The last thing his father would want is to be locked inside another coffin, not after the last time Connor…He blinked away the memory, saw that Gunn was still looking at him, and nodded.

 

When Gunn turned back to his crew, he saw that they were staring. By the looks on some of their faces, pieces were beginning to fit together, conclusions were being made. He said, “Kim, do your voodoo thing. See if this is a spell. Devon, you’re the engineer, the same goes. If this is a science thing, we need to deal with it. Michael…”

 

“The scarabs aren’t a problem,” Ricky interrupted.

 

“They’re not?”

 

“They’re dung beetles. They roll dung.”

 

Kim raised her eyebrows. “What about in the movies?”

 

“That’s make believe! They don’t really eat people.”

 

“Not even dead people?” Connor asked, eyeing up the mass of moving insects.

 

“Unless they’re scarab beetles owned by Wolfram and Hart and engineered to do that.” Gunn wouldn’t put it past them.

 

“Thanks a lot, Gunn,” Connor muttered.

 

“Michael, we need to see how high this thing goes. Ladders, equipment…”

 

“What about forcing our way in?”

 

“If all else fails, we will. We’ve still got some C-4. Let’s go.” 

 

Once the team had dispersed, Gunn brought Eve down into the cellar and left her at the bottom of the stairs. She chaffed at her bonds but Gunn could see she was going nowhere.

 

Connor jerked his head in her direction. “What’s she doing down here?”

 

“If there are any other nasty surprises in here, then I want her here,” Gunn said.

 

Connor’s smile widened.

 

Before long, the cellar was a hive of activity. Lorne arrived, with a mystical expert in tow.

 

“Of sorts. I know you’re our resident demonology expert, Cupcake,” Lorne patted Ricky on the arm.

 

“Trying to be,” Ricky replied. 

 

“But I figured two heads are better than one,” Lorne finished.

 

“Danny?” Gunn shook the woman’s hand. “Glad to have you on board.”

 

Blonde hair and blue eyes complemented her warm, sunny smile. “It’s Danielle, but everyone calls me Danny. My speciality is of the mystical variety.”

 

“Can you determine what we’ve got here?”

 

“I hope so.”

 

“Gunn!”

 

Gunn looked up to find Connor sprawled out up near the ceiling. It looked like he was suspended in thin air. Michael was behind him, carrying a can of paint and a brush on his chest. Both men were wiggling along on their backs, making their way to the window.

 

“Just make sure we’re on the ground before you try to remove this. It is holding us up, after all,” Connor called to him.

 

Gunn shook his head.

 

Danny was squinting at the pair. “Now that looks odd.”

 

Gunn had to agree. “I’ll let you get on with it then.” He left Danny with Ricky and Kim and went off to join Devon. The engineer was fiddling with his instruments, trying to get readings on the phenomenon before them.

 

“Any luck?”

 

“Not yet.” Devon was head down, eyes on a meter, checking for any signs of voltage, anything to indicate there was a power source.

 

“What about all this steel?” Gunn asked him. “Wouldn’t we feel it if there was power running through it?”

 

“We’d only act like a circuit. Electricity would enter our bodies, flow through and out again. We wouldn’t know it was happening.”

 

“Right.”

 

Lorne sidled up to them. He pointed towards the ceiling. “What’s with the paint?”

 

“If Michael and Connor can’t close the window off, or whatever that is up there pretending to be a window, then we’ll paint the glass black. Hopefully, that will be enough to block out the sun’s rays.”

 

Lorne leaned close. “No one has stated the obvious.”

 

“What’s that?”

 

“If Angel is safe inside the sarcophagus, then why hasn’t he called out to us?”

 

 

+++

 

Angel was inside the sarcophagus. Safe, he wasn’t. He had been prepared to fight off the scarabs, knowing that anything of Wolfram and Hart’s could do harm. The scarab beetles hadn’t been at all interested in devouring him when he slid open the lid. And since when had there been a lid? The beetles had come pouring out and a few did try to crawl over him. He had dislodged them with a stamp of his feet, keeping as much distance as he could from them. He had an idea that the beetles weren’t the catch. Eve was too devious to have been that obvious. And he’d been proved right. The minute he’d closed the lid and settled into the comfort of the dark he had been attacked. It was raining, inside the God King’s coffin. Liquid soaked his clothing, dribbled into his hair, ran down his face and seeped into his skin. It was insidious. It crept into his pores, seeking to overwhelm him. Angel knew what was happening. The liquid wasn’t a poison, it was far worse than that. His teeth elongated into fangs. He snarled. He twisted about as far as his cramped quarters would allow. It was to no avail. The liquid seeped past his defences. It breached the shell of his dead body. It went for the throat of his demon. Angelus roared.

 

Angel fought back as best he could. Images, nightmares from his time in hell flooded his mind. He tried to shake them off but the claws of memory were embedded deep. Sanity was slipping away from him, as it had done during his hundred years under Acathla’s torturous pleasures. Angel knew that he hadn’t the luxury to succumb. The demon attacking him would hollow him out, evict his soul and devour his demon. Would his body survive without his demon? Would he turn to dust, or would the demon take up residence and use his body for its own purposes? He recalled the fight his demon had put up to expel Eyghon. Angel relaxed his hold on his inner demon. Always ready to take up the reins, Angelus took control.

 

+++

 

 

Eve’s smirk disappeared when Danny and Kim managed to nullify the spell. The wards dropped, allowing the team access to the sarcophagus and, hopefully, Angel. Connor and Michael had already discovered the hidden panel and had it taped shut over the window that wasn’t a window. The scarabs had scattered the minute the wards had dropped.

 

“Flesh eating scarabs, my ass!”

 

Gunn followed a trail of the insects to a door; its camouflage no match for an escaping beetle. Behind the door was rubble: earth and debris blocking what appeared to have been a tunnel. Scarabs moved en masse into the mess and soon the room they had been trapped in was left behind. Connor was behind him when he turned.

 

Gunn eyed the sword in his hand. 

 

Connor had the grace to look sheepish. “Sorry. I thought…”

 

“No, it’s good, Connor. I should’ve thought of…”

 

“Guys? Need some help here.”

 

The team were gathered round the sarcophagus, fingers prying at the stone. Connor and Gunn hurried over. With Connor’s super human strength in the mix, the lid scraped loose. All of a sudden it flew up and away, over their heads. It landed with a loud crack, steel ringing from the impact. All eyes were on Angel. His lips were pulled back, his fangs exposed. He snarled, and his friends’ hands, reaching for him, were snatched back.

 

“You all right there, Angel?” Gunn asked, worried.

 

Angel’s human face resurfaced. Sitting up, he shook his head. His eyes went to Connor. “Don’t touch me.”

 

It was then that everyone noticed that Angel was soaking wet. His hair was dripping and his clothes sodden.

 

“This,” he ran a hand through the mess that was his hair, “is what’s left of a demon. I don’t know if it’s safe to touch me. I’m pretty sure it’s dead…”

 

“What demon?”

 

As one they peered into the sarcophagus. There was only Angel sitting in his damp clothes. They stood back to give him room when he climbed out of the stone coffin.

 

“I bet Eve knows.”

 

Angel stalked over to where Eve sat. She spat at him, hate simmering in her eyes.

 

“Get away from me!”

 

He reached out for her, and she cringed as far back as her bonds would allow.

 

“I thought so. What was it, Eve, an Ardat?”

 

The look in her eyes was all the confirmation he needed.

 

 “Was this all to get your old job back? Buy your way back into immortality?”

 

“The Senior Partners were interested in my proposal.”

 

“And Wolfram and Hart’s resources were at your disposal.”

 

“How did you…?”

 

“You people always underestimate my demon.”

 

“What just happened?” Michael asked for them all.

 

Angel didn’t look away from the former liaison to the Senior Partners.

 

“Ardats are a parasite. They invade the body and mind, turn your brain into mush and you become their meat puppet. This tells me…”

 

Kim interrupted him. “It’s on your clothes? But…”

 

“It’s fluids, isn’t it?” Gunn said. “With vampires it’s blood. Why not other liquids for other demons.”

 

Lorne nodded in agreement.  “To quote an Old One, we’re all of the primordial ooze. What better way to infect a person than at our most basic level.”

 

“I think I need a shower.” Angel looked down at his clothes. “And I need to burn these clothes. Damn, but I like this coat.”

 

Connor dared to step close. Only Angel heard him say, “Are you alright, Dad?”

 

Angel smiled at him. “I’m fine. Glad you’re here.”

 

He was sure his heart gave a thump when Connor replied, “I am too, Dad.”

 

Angel turned to his friends.

 

“Thanks, guys, for the rescue.”

 

Gunn grinned at him. “Sometimes even heroes need a helping hand, eh, Angel?”

 

Kim jerked her head in Eve’s direction.  “What are we going to do with the Black Widow?”

 

“Leave her here. Some one will come along, eventually. Maybe even the good folks from Wolfram and Hart.”

 

The End

 

 

ANs

 

We all know that vampires do not age, so my Angel still looks like the Angel from the early days of Buffy, a hottie.

 

Facts about scarabs…mmm…I think there’s a story in here somewhere.

It seemed to the ancient Egyptians that the young scarab beetles emerged spontaneously from the burrow where they were born. Therefore they were worshipped as "Khepera", which means "he was came forth." This creative aspect of the scarab was associated with the creator god Atum.

The ray-like antenna on the beetle's head and its practice of dung-rolling caused the beetle to also carry solar symbolism. The scarab-beetle god Khepera was believed to push the setting sun along the sky in the same manner as the beetle with his ball of dung. In many artefacts, the scarab is depicted pushing the sun along its course in the sky.

During and following the New Kingdom, scarab amulets were often placed over the heart of the mummified deceased. These "heart scarabs" (such as the one pictured above) were meant to be weighed against the feather of truth during the final judgement. The amulets were often inscribed with a spell from the Book of the Dead which entreated the heart to, "do not stand as a witness against me."

 

 

Scarabs were also symbolic of resurrection. This too was directly linked with the rising of the Sun. In fact, since the scarab was spiritually connected with the Sun-rise, it became closely associated with the Egyptian deity Khepri–"god of the rising Sun." In every aspect, scarabs and Egyptian Solar worship were inseparable.

 

Ardat - Being that causes nightmares
( from: Ernest Jones "On the Nightmare" )

 

 


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