By Gonzai
Author: Gonzai
E-Mail: LCSTrish@aol.com
Title: Dealer's Choice (Pt. 9, Plans series)
Rating: PG-13 - mild profanity, violence
Spoilers: Through First Impressions
Feedback: Of course I want feedback. Otherwise I'd think I sent my story into a black hole in
another universe where they never heard of Angel or other good things I can't live without.
Disclaimer: Like they're mine. I wish.
Author's Notes: This one is starting about 7-10 days after the end of 'It's a Tolerable Life'. For
those of you who haven't been paying the slightest bit of attention, all previous parts of this series
are posted at this web site. They are also archived at numerous other web sites.
DEALER'S CHOICE
The long alleys and empty streets of one of Los Angeles's lesser neighborhoods were quiet in the darkest hours of night. Nothing moved or stirred. There was nothing remotely human living in this area any more, and the non-human residents knew better than give any sign of their residence. Something was coming.
Specifically, a rather scaly-faced and vaguely greenish demon in ragged human clothes was coming, running at a breakneck speed in the hopes of outdistancing its pursuer. It dashed in and out of the alleys and doorways, pausing occasionally both to catch its breath and to hope in vain that the creature pursuing it had given up the chase. It hadn't.
The demon in pursuit was darker brown in color and smallish, vaguely dog-like but not unlike nearly any other moderately sized quadraped. It calmly loped after its prey, from time to time dropping onto all fours to gain some speed, but generally in no hurry to catch up to the green demon.
Eventually the green demon ran down the wrong alley and found himself with no exit except the way he entered--and the brown demon was already loping towards him. The green creature scurried and scraped about, looking for a way to escape and unsuccessfully trying to scale a tenement wall.
The brown demon approached the green, which was trying to maintain a precarious hold on the bricks of the building. The brown pawed at the green, not forcefully, but perfectly sufficient to knock it to the ground. Then the brown started sniffing about the green, chirping and whistling to itself in a high-pitched, slightly rasping sound of voice. The green started screeching in terror and tried once more to escape, but the brown swatted it down.
The brown continued sniffing and snuffling about the green, much to the captive demon's extreme distress, for several minutes. Then, without warning, the brown drew back its lips, bared its teeth and unleashed an unearthly screech. The green squawked but within a moment was silent. The brown trotted back out of the alley as casually as it had gone in, leaving the torn and battered corpse of the green behind.
"You're wild, baby, real wild. I like that," Gunn murmured to himself as he watched the demon depart. He was perched, somewhat precariously, on the top of a nearby crumbling building and had observed the entire proceedings. The dark-colored demon wasn't much on size or appearance, but it was remarkably strong from what he'd seen of it, not to mention its being pretty vicious towards its fellow demons. "It'll be interesting to take you down. Lookin' forward to it."
While Gunn's senses weren't nearly those of a vampire, they were much better than the average human. Survival had demanded fine-tuning long ago. And so he heard the distant closing of a car door, and quickly turned in that direction just in time to see someone climb into a Lincoln Town Car a few blocks away. The windows were too darkly tinted to see inside, but Gunn had seen enough to have an educated guess who might have hired the car.
"Damn lawyers," he muttered. "Guess ambulance-chasing ain't species-specific." Unless, of course, it was the brown demon they had come to see. Come to think of it, they must have come for the same show he had, if they were leaving now. He wondered what their interest was in the brown demon, and if it had anything to do with Angel. Then again, he chuckled to himself, nearly everything Wolfram & Hart did these days had to do with the vampire. Probably should tell him about tonight's events. Well, one of these times he ought to mention it. Maybe later. No hurry.
Cordelia nearly jumped out of her chair and through the wall when Angel slammed the door to his office. Wesley, equally shaken and stirred, managed to drop his cup of tea and the cup had shattered on the floor, further adding to the noise.
"You'd think we'd be getting used to this by now," he muttered as he cleaned up the mess. At least his feet were sufficiently healed for him to fetch the paper towels and clean it up himself. "It's not as though he hasn't slammed it enough this week."
"I can't believe the door is still in one piece," Cordelia noted drily. "I hope I don't have to go to the hardware store again. I mean, I think I know which hinges are the right ones now, but I've been there so many times this week I think the clerk is going to ask me to dinner and he is just so totally ordinary, not to mention broke."
"I didn't break it. Not saying I didn't try, just that I didn't," Angel growled as he entered the office. He glared menacingly at the coffee machine.
"Don't even think about it," Cordelia informed Angel without looking up. She'd been to the store for two more coffeemakers this week.
Angel settled for punching at the air and pacing the room. "I'll presume you had no success," Wesley said cautiously.
"Less than none. No one knows what happened after we left the warehouse. That, or they're more afraid of Santiago than they are of me," Angel paced faster in frustration.
"Did you give them 'grr' face?" Cordelia inquired. Both she and Wesley already knew the answer, but for some reason her use of that particular phrase in her particular way always seemed to throw Angel far enough off balance to calm him down. It worked this time, too.
"What? No...I mean yes...some of them. And Gunn's sources didn't turn up anything either, although I'm not totally convinced he's put any kind of priority on this." Angel dropped onto the couch. "You two, anything?"
Cordelia shrugged hopelessly. "Absolute zero. This guy disappeared more totally than the last date you wanted to meet before I left with him."
"No luck regarding his whereabouts or activities," Wesley announced, "but I believe I found something regarding his ancestral species."
"Great. I'll tell him about his family tree if I ever find him," Angel groused.
Wesley frowned at Angel. The only useful thing they'd found all week, and Angel still didn't appreciate it. Sometime he wondered why he bothered. "Granted, we still don't know exactly what this Santiago is--other than an utter bastard--but the closer we get to the right species, the more likely we can successfully destroy him the next time."
Angel leaned back against the couch with his eyes closed. "You're right, Wesley. Just tell me and get it over with."
"I found a text describing an ancient species called the Cocosy. Apparently they were some sort of shape-shifting demons, capable of appearing in various forms for a period of time, and they could limit their visibility momentarily. Not completely invisible, and not for a length of time though."
"But if Santiago evolved from them, his species could have perfected that ability in the meantime," Angel said, almost to himself. "How do you destroy them?"
Wesley wondered if he looked as pained as he felt.
"Uh-oh, bad news incoming," Cordelia announced. "That is what's incoming, right? You have 'I hate to tell you' look on your face."
"It's not bad, per se, it's just--difficult."
"How difficult?"
"The Cocosy could be gravely injured by dousing them with pure alcohol--"
"Hey! Doyle could breath on him!" Cordelia retreated from Angel's glare. "I was kidding, okay? No sense of humor around here."
"As I was saying, alcohol injures them and inhibits their visibility tricks, but to destroy them permanently requires the conjuring of a passage to hell and forcing them into it," Wesley continued.
"We have to make another Hellmouth? Like one isn't ten too many," Cordelia asked.
"Not an actual Hellmouth, but something similar, yes. Considerably smaller though, and strictly for one-way travel. If Santiago were already disabled, that should allow enough time to conjure such a passage, and place him in it."
"I take it you can handle the conjuring?" Angel asked.
"Doesn't appear to be impossible. Difficult, I would think, and quite a few items required, but possible." In fact, the spell seemed very possible to Wesley provided he had the supplies and the cooperation. But given the respective moods of Angel and Cordelia lately, he wasn't sure he'd be getting either.
"Good. Get what you need and be ready. But we still need to find the bastard." Angel stood up. "Doesn't look like today's the day though, and I still have one more thing to do."
Angel stood in the doorway for the better part of an hour, watching and brooding, before he finally sat down next to Doyle's bed. Over the past year he had found brooding much easier if he did it while watching Doyle sleep. Something to do with listening to the rhythm of a living thing breathing, he supposed, or maybe it was the peaceful look Doyle had only when he slept. And as far as Angel knew (and hoped), Doyle didn't know Angel watched him. But lately, today included, Angel unintentionally woke his friend.
"What ya do, stick your hand in the fridge before ya come here?" Doyle complained woozily.
"Sorry," Angel smiled slightly in apology. Watching was something he could get away with, but he couldn't touch without his coldness startling Doyle into wakefulness. And with his protective nature stirred up by Doyle's present situation, it was hard not to touch him, to feel his living warmth against his hands, and feel the pure relief from simply knowing his friend was still alive. "I just--never mind." He could never explain.
Doyle sighed slightly and shifted a little, trying to raise his head.
"It's still there," Angel told him quietly.
"I figured," Doyle whispered, "it hurts too much not t' be."
Angel flinched a little. Somewhere deep inside of him Angelus was chuckling and he didn't care for that at all. "They told me this surgery went okay. Better than the first one. Maybe you might be able to use it again...some day," Angel nearly choked on the last two words.
"Some day," Doyle repeated. "An' I'll use it on that son of a..." he winced in pain. "Ya find him yet? Killed 'im, maybe?"
"No. No luck yet, I haven't found him, but..."
"Some day."
"Yes. Some day." Angel felt a little ashamed, both for waking Doyle and for not having killed Santiago for him yet. Revenge wasn't a common desire for him, and failure wasn't something he encountered often either. And these weren't things he wanted to think about in the presence of Doyle, certainly not when he was awake. "I shouldn't have woken you. You should sleep."
Doyle smiled just a bit. "S'okay. I kinda like the company. Like it better non-obsessed with bad guys, but I'll take what I can get."
Angel rested his hand on Doyle's shoulder for a moment, then stood up to leave. "Wish granted. Cordelia will be here in a few hours. She threatened to bring Wesley, so...get some rest."
"'kay." Doyle's eyes fluttered a little as he drifted back into sleep. "Wolfram...Hart...they know where...".
Of course, Angel realized. Doyle was right. There was at least one person who knew where Santiago was, the same person who always knew where Angel would be, and where Santiago would be, and when the cops would show up. Lindsey McDonald. And Angel would have to pay him a visit.
There were certain things that someone in the employ of Wolfram & Hart should not do. Becoming flustered, or even merely agitated by events, was one of those things. Lindsey McDonald had learned that lesson very early on and for the most part he avoided that mistake. But the whole business with Santiago was pushing him very close to that line.
When Santiago became Lindsey's client, following the unfortunate and sudden demise of his original attorney, the first dominoes had already been toppled. Lindsey would never have allowed any client of his to keep informants in the LAPD, and it was stupefying to him that Lee Mercer hadn't discouraged Santiago from it. Police contacts were always a bad idea, and with Angel on the scene they were worse. Lindsey hadn't been surprised in the slightest when Santiago's contacts within the police department led the vampire to the offshore contraband ship, and he had thought that incident alone would be sufficient to convince the demon that Wolfram & Hart's attorneys did know what they were doing. 'Why pay us so damn much for our advice if you're not going to take it?' Lindsey muttered to himself.
But Santiago hadn't learned. The demon had way too much ego for that. Lindsey had warned him repeatedly that the only thing more tempting to the fates than going after the vampire was going after Angel's friends, and offered his prosthetic hand as Exhibit A. So, naturally, Santiago turned around and went right back after the vampire's friends. As far as Lindsey was concerned, the deliberate refusal to accept his sound legal advice meant Santiago was a liability to Wolfram & Hart, and he had told Holland just that. But Holland disagreed, and Santiago remained both a client and Lindsey's responsibility. And cleaning up after Santiago had Lindsey agitated, and he was sure flustered wouldn't be far behind. Neither would Angel.
The vampire was being way too inquisitive lately for Lindsey's comfort, and sooner or later Angel was bound to find the weak link in the information network. There was a new possibility regarding taking out the vampire, but that plan also had tremendous potential for being more than a little tricky. Lindsey pondered this as he tried awkwardly to get his keys into the lock on his apartment door. His new hand wasn't always helpful in such regards. Neither was the much larger hand that suddenly slammed itself over the lock.
"Hi Lindsey. Miss me? Wish I missed you, but you'd have to go away first."
Christ. Angel. The vampire wasn't in that guise, at least not at the moment, and Lindsey's first thought was to get him out of the hallway before anyone else in the building noticed Lindsey had a non-human visitor.
"Hello, Angel." Play it perfectly cool. Lindsey steeled himself. "Haven't missed you a bit, actually, you seem to be, well, ubiquitous these days."
"I try. But it doesn't seem to be helping much. I was hoping you might know a few places I haven't been to yet." Angel had a glint in his eye that made Lindsey's left hand ache. Somehow he suspected he might not have that one a lot longer.
"Have you tried my apartment? It's--private."
Angel took the hint and removed his hand from the lock. "Always about appearances, isn't it Lindsey? Whatever happened to the man with a conscience who just couldn't kill children?"
Even Lindsey wasn't cool enough not to get angry, but he would save that for after the door closed. Because now he finally had it open. He gestured grandly. "Please. After you," he growled.
Angel took his time walking into the apartment, appraising it coolly. "Nice decorating. I'd ask you for your decorator's card, since I know you didn't do it."
The vampire had his back turned to Lindsey, which Lindsay couldn't help but think was incredible luck on his part. Having had his share of annoyed clients in the past, Lindsey kept a stake just inside the door. He carefully palmed it and walked softly behind the vampire, waiting for his opportunity. "I agree, the firm's decorators are quite talented. I'm sure I do have one of their cards available," he said as evenly as possible as he lunged with the stake.
Angel didn't even flinch. An arm reached behind him and easily plucked the stake out of Lindsey's hand before he was even close. The other arm reached back and grabbed Lindsey by the collar, forcibly dragging him forward to face Angel. And now Angel did have his game face on.
"Lindsey, Lindsey, Lindsey. That was--pathetic. Just like you." Angel flung him against the wall. "I hope you don't treat all your guests that way."
"Only the ones at room temperature," Lindsey snapped without thinking first.
Angel chuckled softly to himself before stopping suddenly. "You're not that funny," he snapped back. "And I don't have time to listen to your jokes. I only have eternity. Where's Santiago?"
"I don't know." The answer was automatic, so much so that the lie was obvious.
"Surprisingly, I don't believe you," Angel snarled. He grabbed Lindsey's left hand and gave it a squeeze. "You know Santiago did to my friend? Seems to me it would be ironic if the same thing were to happen to you."
Lindsey had heard what Santiago's men had done to Angel's half-demon sidekick, and he also knew that was the primary reason behind Angel's sudden switch to the offensive approach. Which he had warned Santiago about, of course. Damn him. The hell with him. "Yes, I know. I specifically told him not to go after your people, dammit!"
Angel seemed slightly taken aback, though whether it was the profanity or the information that surprised him wasn't clear. The moment didn't last long though. "Doesn't matter. You cleaned up his mess, it's still your problem. Where...is...he?"
'And after all this work, I'm the weak link', Lindsey thought drearily. Because he really wanted to keep the hand he still had. "He's--" Lindsey had a flash of brilliance. Maybe he could get out of this and conveniently lose his most troublesome client and maybe even lose the vampire. "I have a proposal for you," he panted.
"Marriage? Gee, Lindsey, didn't know you felt that way."
"Business. Appearances, right?" Judging from the look on Angel's face, maybe he ought to quit with the quips.
"Talk fast. I'm not getting any happier."
"I'll set something up with Santiago you can conveniently drop in on, however you want it, whatever you need. And you can do what you want with him. But no one knows about me. You found him on your own. No help from anybody. And you don't hurt me. Deal?"
Angel appeared to be pondering the offer. "And why would you be so willing to give up your own client? I don't care for any more traps."
"I don't care for this particular client. Santiago is far more trouble for Wolfram & Hart than he's worth. You'd be doing me a favor, you know the drill, mutual benefit, eliminating a problem for both of us." Lindsey hoped the vampire would buy in. If Plan B could be worked out, the vampire would already be gone, but if that plan wasn't ready he would settle for getting rid of Santiago. Angel wasn't a client and accordingly there was no need to be pleasant or cooperative with him, which made him by far the preferable difficulty.
"If I get the slightest hint that you're setting me up..." Angel gave Lindsey's hand a very painful squeeze and Lindsey yelped.
Fifteen very awkward and painful minutes later, Angel left.
"Long errand," Cordelia scowled, tapping her fingers impatiently on her desk. "You better tell me you took out a couple demons, destroyed a nest of vampires and saved the world on your way back, because I have a date tonight. Or did, until I had to cancel it. Because I was waiting. For. You." Why she bothered, she didn't know, because she knew better than to think Angel might apologize.
Angel merely shrugged. "Had an idea about Santiago. Did something about it. Wesley still here?"
"Nope," Cordelia scowled further. "I lost the coin toss, I get to wait all night for his vampireness to come back and..." what Angel had said finally sank in. "You did something about creepy guy? Now a dead creepy guy?"
"Not dead yet, but he will be. Found out where he's going to be in a few days and when he gets there, I'll be waiting for him." Angel had a goldish glint in his eye that reminded her a little too much of Angelus.
"Have I mentioned you're enjoying the whole vengeance thing just a little bit too much? Not that I want Santiago around, but didn't the last revenge scenario end with Doyle getting killed? Maybe we could not repeat that?" Cordelia queried.
"It's not revenge. It's preventive medicine," Angel snapped.
Cordelia sniffed. "Yeah, right. That's why you've practically dealt with the devil trying to find this lowest of life..." Angel had winced. Openly. 'Okay,' she thought, 'what did I say...'. She reviewed her last words and didn't like what she came up with. "Uhh...you didn't make a deal with the devil did you?"
Angel shifted uneasily.
"Oh boy, you did. You d--you're not Angelus are you?" She quickly retrieved a stake from her desk drawer and held it ready.
"No, no, not that devil. Not the real one, just his...legal counsel." Angel admitted.
"You cut a deal with Wolfram & Hart? Are you nuts? Oh, wait until I tell Wesley and he tells you you're nuts in a fancy English way and--I don't have to date anybody as part of this deal do I? Those guys are so skin-crawly."
"You don't have to do anything except find a lot of grain alcohol and help Wesley with the conjuring," Angel told her. "I'm taking care of this myself." Apparently Angel must have thought he said it in a reassuring manner, but Cordelia didn't think reassuring was a tone existent in Angel's repetoire. Not around her, anyway.
"Right. Like you were going to on the boat. This just gets better and better," she grumbled.
Angel settled in for the night but he didn't sleep. Brooding wasn't working out particularly well either, and in this instance he doubted whether having Doyle there would have helped. Initially, Angel had been more than satisfied with the information he had obtained from Lindsey. In fact, it had been easier than he'd thought it would be to get the lawyer's compliance. And while Angel rarely put much stock in Cordelia's rantings, her concern about Wolfram & Hart's involvement coupled with Lindsey's comparatively easy agreement were sufficient to give him pause.
She did have at least one very valid point--letting vengefulness be his guide had been disastrous before. And Wolfram & Hart had been involved that time, too. But was he really being vengeful here? At least, was that his foremost concern? Angel had thought his determination was, in fact, pre-emptive. Santiago had made it clear enough he would continue to strike at Angel's friends until all of them were destroyed, and the only way to keep them safe would be to destroy Santiago first. He never doubted for a moment that was his plan, and if he kept to it, things should go reasonably well.
Angel resolved then, that he was not letting his darker emotions control him. As long as he kept cautious, especially where the attorneys were concerned, he would proceed.
"Would it kill you to open a window? It's not like Angel's here or anything."
Doyle had some thoughts on Cordelia's entrance but bit his lip instead. At least she hadn't brought Wesley. And at the moment he was feeling a lot better than he had in several days anyway, with the help of some pretty decent painkillers. If it weren't for the nightmares, in fact, he'd probably be feeling comparatively well. He settled for some low-grade complaining.
"Would it kill you to knock sometime? An' it's not like I can just get up an' open the blinds," Doyle griped. Not that he minded her being there as a general rule, Cordelia certainly had a way of taking his mind off other things.
"So ask somebody to open them," she went on blithely. "I don't have time to do everything for you. We actually have some work to do at the office."
"Really," Doyle said absentmindedly. He was still thinking about, ahem, something else. "Have I told you you're beautiful?"
"New eye shadow. So-so. Might change it."
"I wasn't meanin' that, Princess."
"But Wesley is hardly ever around, he's doing all this research on Santiago, so I have to do just about everything, and Angel's never around at all anymore and he isn't even doing something income-y."
Doyle was disappointed Cordelia wasn't noticing he still adored her. For that matter, that he'd never stopped adoring her. He'd thought maybe he could get back on track with her after she let him stay at the apartment--and in her bed--but since then it was back to him being helpless and her failing to take him seriously. Any advancement he may have made in her eyes appeared to have been completely wiped. And he didn't even have the slightest idea what he'd done--if anything--to cause it.
"So, if Wesley's workin' with Angel on this, why isn't he workin' with Angel?" Doyle inquired. Maybe she'd notice that kind of question.
"Angel's gotten really weird. Obsessed kind of weird. All he does is look for Santiago and sulk. No fun to be around. And he's taking it out on the office furniture." She paused in what appeared to be thought. "You know about that, right? The whole 'I'm gonna get Santiago' deal? That wasn't something I wasn't supposed to tell you?"
"Yeah, I know that. Angel told me. Because he didn't want me to find out from you," he added wrily.
"Well, that is so rude. It's not like I would just tell you something like that."
"As a matter of fact, you just did."
Cordelia ignored that too. "I brought you chocolates. Great for making unhappy happy."
"Thanks, but I'm pretty sure I'm not gonna be allowed to have any. I still gotta drink my dinner, not that I don't always." Doyle considered for a moment what he'd just said. "Ya know, considerin' who else does that, I may have to start rephrasin' things."
"As long as I don't have to sign for any more shipments of blood. It scares the delivery people."
"It scares just about all people. Present company excepted." Cordelia didn't seem to have heard the last part. She actually looked like she might still be...thinking. Scary thought there. "Hey, Princess? You still here?"
Instead of answering, Cordelia wheeled around and glared at him. "Have you even tried it?" she demanded.
Doyle was utterly confused. He hadn't the slightest idea what she was talking about. Might as well admit it, if he was in trouble anyway. "No offense, but, huh?"
"Have you tried it? Being demony Doyle? You got better the last time!" Cordelia snapped.
Oh. That. Doyle felt his throat tighten as a flash of anger rocketed through him. Never. Not ever again. He tried frantically to remind himself that Cordelia, being fully human, would never understand, but he was still burning. He hoped he wouldn't say anything he'd regret. "I won't. An' I'd appreciate ya never mention it again," he told her as evenly as he could, which wasn't very considering how emotional he was feeling at the moment. "It don't work like that anymore anyway, but even if it did, I won't, not ever."
Cordelia, possibly for the first time since he'd known her, appeared taken aback. 'Then again,' Doyle thought dully, 'that's the closest I've ever been to angry with her.' "Umm...okay, sorry I brought it up," she fumbled.
"Not as sorry as I am," he snapped back, and instantly regretted it. "I'm sorry I said that," he added quickly.
Not quick enough. Now Cordelia was angry. "Well maybe you ought to just get over it!" she snapped in return. "Angel's demon was the biggest creep there ever was, and he got over it. Whatever your father did, it's over and it's done with and it's not you so maybe you should try living in the present some time!"
Doyle didn't want to fight with Cordelia. Certainly not now. His arm was starting to throb painfully and additional pills would not be forthcoming for another couple of hours. "Maybe you should just go."
"Maybe I should." Cordelia turned to the door, but hesitated. "I'm going to chalk this up to all those drugs you're taking. Deal?"
"Yeah. Deal," Doyle answered with relief, and Cordelia left. At least she wouldn't hold it against him long. As for himself, he wasn't sure he could do that.
"Linndd-seyyy."
Oh, no. Lindsey had succeeded in ducking Holland for the last two days, but his luck couldn't hold out forever. Although in the forty-eight hours in which he hadn't heard that damnable sing-song voice, he'd actually allowed himself a degree of belief he wouldn't have to explain himself to the senior partners.
"Oh, Linnd-seyy-"
"Holland! Sorry, didn't hear you come in," Lindsey sucked in his breath and hoped he sounded sincere. Doubtful, but without hope there's no point in continuing, is there?
"I haven't seen much of my most promising junior partner lately. There aren't any problems I should know about, are there?" Holland settled himself on the corner of Lindsey's desk and raised his eyebrows in a spectacularly unconvincing show of concern.
"Nothing for you to be...concerned about, no," Lindsey responded. He would have loved to have leaned back in his chair casually but as long as Holland was in the room there was no way his spine was going to allow for anything remotely resembling relaxation.
"Well, I just thought I should make sure everything's coming along well. After all, I haven't heard any further from you regarding the...new project. And I understand you've been trying to contact Santiago, but to be honest with you Lindsey, I'm not sure why." Holland punctuated the last part with a slight smile that said he wanted an answer, and make it good.
Fortunately, Lindsey had good answers. "I confirmed we've located the Konoste demon's lair and arrangements have been made to capture it. Simply a matter of having the manpower available, and you can be assured I've taken care of it." Holland appeared somewhat relieved. Good. One down, one to go. "With regard to Santiago...as you are aware, he's quite--enthusiastic--about eliminating his and our problem. I discovered a possibility for an encounter between the two of them, one Santiago expects, and the vampire doesn't. I'm sure our client will be very interested in the potential of such a situation."
"I'm sure he will be," Holland agreed. "But common sense isn't always the strongest trait in some of our clients. It is our responsibility to be their common sense for them, wouldn't you agree?"
"Of course."
"So we wouldn't want to advise them to do something contrary to common sense, say, something which could become damaging to our reputation?"
Lindsey set his jaw. "I'm merely advising him of an existing opportunity, which I am legally obligated to do. I fully intend to advise him against taking said opportunity. However, the final decision is his." He paused. "Since we both know our client will not take proper legal advice in such a situation, I do have a backup plan to...rescue him, if need be."
Holland nodded. "See that you do. I do understand some our clients may fail to act in their own best interests. But you should remember we have a responsibility to them to extricate them from their failed exploits. I trust you will take my advice?"
Lindsey nodded slightly. There was nothing he could say under the circumstances.
"Good." Holland's grin returned. "Don't be a stranger now, Lindsey. I like to see my junior partners around the office. Builds camaraderie among the troops."
"Yes, sir."
Holland exited the office and Lindsey gripped the edge of his desk, trying not to scream in frustration. He was going to have to be absolutely perfect and his timing would have to be even better to pull off his plan and eliminate both Santiago and Angel, or Holland would know it wasn't just Angel who was set up.
Wesley wondered how much more cash Angel could possibly wrest from Nabbitt or Ludwig, or possibly both of them. Enough for an automatic door opener was his fervent hope at the moment. An extended trip to the magic shop had been followed by a few extra errands, including one to a liquor store in an area Wesley would be just as happy not to visit again, and he was now attempting to carry about ten more packages than he really ought to be. And, as was her usual wont, Cordelia wasn't about to be bothered to open the door for him.
Exasperated, Wesley realized he would never get the door open unless he set something down, but by now he was in a position where the only way he could possibly put something on the ground was to drop it. There were several glass containers scattered among his parcels, and he would have to take a guess. He picked two bags and let go. The first landed without incident. The second landed with the crash of breaking glass. "Oh, lovely!" he snapped at himself.
Now, Cordelia opened the office door. "Eww. Not lovely. Actually, yucky. What was that?"
Wesley took a sniff. "Probably pickled sheep's brain," he muttered. "I'll have to go fetch another one now."
"Blecch. Why do magicky things always stink? Would it kill somebody to cast a spell with cinnamon roll or forest rain sometime?" Cordelia was still standing in the doorway with her arms folded across her chest, effectively blocking Wesley from further progress.
"Perhaps someone might, if certain someones might step out of the doorway and let certain other someones into the office," Wesley growled.
"Like who?" Cordelia asked innocently. Wesley glared his worst at her. "Oh, you mean me. You want me to let you in?"
"Please."
"It's about time you asked nicely."
Wesley had some ideas for the next spells to be cast and while they didn't involve lilac, they did involve Cordelia. But he postponed further exploration of such thoughts in favor of maneuvering the remaining packages to the nearest desk. "Would it kill you to retrieve the packages I dropped?"
"You know, it just might."
"Cordelia..."
"Fine, I'll get them. Pee-yew." She brought the remaining bags back in and dropped them on the desk. "Swell. Now I have to smell baa-baa brains for a week."
"Aren't you in a wonderful mood," Wesley muttered half to himself as he unpacked.
Cordelia drew herself up to her full height and put her hands on her hips. "Speak for yourself, gopher-boy. Besides, you don't have to put up with cranky half-demons who don't know what's best for them."
Oh yes, she visited Doyle today, Wesley remembered. Poor him.
"I heard that."
Blast it. He must have said the last part out loud. "Well, admit at least that you aren't in a sparkling mood."
"As a matter of fact, I was Tinkerbell until then. Now I'm Cruella de Vil." Cordelia tossed herself onto the couch in frustration. "I was just trying to help. I mean, I don't get the whole thing with him and the demon. If it helps, what's the problem?"
Wesley stopped unpacking. Odd, that he should feel the need to take Doyle's side, but all the same he did. "I'm sure the demon creates problems for Doyle that neither you nor I could ever hope to understand. Perhaps we shouldn't try."
"Since when do you side with Doyle? Or is this another guy thing I wouldn't get?"
"Since...right." Wesley sighed and sat next to her. "I'm not siding with him. I'm simply saying we don't understand what kind of pain the demon causes him. Perhaps the physical pain isn't nearly as onerous for him as...as...let's just leave it as we don't understand."
"Well, I sure don't understand. He's totally confusing."
Wesley started to answer, then reconsidered. He concluded there was nothing he could possibly say that wouldn't put himself, and probably Doyle as well, in Cordelia's lesser graces. He started to get back up.
"Did I ever mention you're totally jealous of Doyle?" Cordelia asked, cocking an eyebrow.
"What?!"
"You've been all green since you first found out Doyle was back. And you get worse every day. Hey, I'm a woman, I'm expert on jealousy. Create it all the time," she grinned devilishly.
In spite of the overall awkwardness of the moment, Wesley found himself smiling back. "That you do," he agreed. "I suppose you're right then. I just--sometimes I wish I had an inner strength like Doyle's. It's so odd to me, his life is a shambles but still he can rise to an occasion."
"So what's better, being perfect every once in a while and a mess the rest of the time, or having it reasonably together all the time?" Cordelia asked.
"I don't know," Wesley answered truthfully. He'd never even considered it in those terms before.
Cordelia shrugged. "Maybe you're boring non-hero material, but Angel can count on you. That counts for something, right?"
"I think there may have been a compliment buried somewhere in there."
"You think?"
"Although I didn't quite think you thought of Doyle as a mess," it had finally occurred to Wesley that Cordelia had effectively changed the subject long ago and he tried to steer her back to the original topic.
"I have no idea what to think of Doyle. He's more complicated than Angel. And he hasn't had two hundred years to work on getting complicated," Cordelia admitted. "But I kinda like trying to figure him out."
"Perhaps you ought to go see him again?" Wesley asked. He would prefer to continue studying the spell, and hopefully practice it a bit, without Cordelia's interference--er, help. But he must have suggested it a little too hopefully.
"Nice try, but you can't get rid of me that easy."
Wesley decided to shut up.
Santiago had long since retreated to his hideout in South America, where he spent two weeks recuperating and fuming, the latter more frequently than the former as the days wore on. His species couldn't be destroyed by bullets, and so he had recovered in a matter of days. Slower than a vampire would, which was a further irritant to him, but more quickly than a human.
But his recovery was overtaken by his fury at having lost yet another opportunity to take down both the vampire and his minions. He was no less infuriated by the half-demon's interference with the gun after the agreement to no weapons. He didn't consider his own use of a stake to be violation of that rule. After all, that was in his favor.
He was working on about the thirtieth plan to destroy the vampire when the telephone call came. Santiago thought Lindsey McDonald to be a trifle of a human, good for nothing but filing paperwork and whining. All he had heard from the paper mouse lately was 'don't do this, don't do that'; Santiago thought he was hiring a law firm to cover his tracks, not a simpering idiot to order him around. He wouldn't have minded destroying the lawyer; he'd been quite successful in arranging the sudden demise of his previous representative at the firm, and with his money and influence he had no doubt the senior partners would gladly arrange for McDonald to 'leave the firm' upon any request he might make.
Meanwhile, Santiago really didn't want to hear from his attorney. "What the hell do you want?" he snapped into the phone.
"Sir," McDonald sounded like he might be off-balance but recovered himself. "I--I wanted to let you know about a developing situation that might interest you."
"Nothing you could tell me could interest me," Santiago snapped again, and reached for the cutoff button.
"I've set a trap for the vampire!" McDonald rattled quickly.
Except that, perhaps. Very well, then, the lawyer could have a moment. But only that. "You have exactly one minute," Santiago answered.
"I've arranged for the capture of a Konoste demon, one that Angel's men have been tracking, and I've arranged for him to know where it's being held. He'll be coming after it to destroy it Saturday, after sundown. He'll have at least two of his people with him, maybe more. You could--be there."
"Really." Santiago had learned very early on not to reveal what he truly thought of proposals, but the prospect of Angel and his companions walking into a trap was such a delicious thought that some of his enthusiasm leaked. "I may be interested indeed."
By the conclusion of their conversation, Santiago was no longer raging. He might even have a been a little happy.
Wesley parked Angel's car in front of the building and retrieved Doyle's bag from the trunk, expecting Cordelia to assist Doyle in getting out of the car. He had expected too much, he quickly found out. Cordelia didn't even open the car door and Doyle was having a little difficulty managing the handle with one hand. Annoyed, Wesley opened the door and reluctantly offered Doyle assistance. Doyle accepted with equal reluctance. Cordelia stared at both of them.
"What?" Wesley asked her in exasperation, barely noticing Doyle had said the same thing with the same tone.
Cordelia shrugged. "Shouldn't you carry him in or something?"
"Hardly," Wesley muttered.
"I'm tired, I ain't crippled. Again. Yet," Doyle complained.
"Besides, if I carry him--then you'll have to carry the bag," Wesley pointed out. It had the effect he hoped for.
"Let's see. Check job description. Nope, nothing in there about being a pack horse." Cordelia turned and walked away.
"Was it somethin' I said?" Doyle asked wearily.
"Nothing you said helped. But mostly it's Cordelia-ness, I think." Wesley sighed. "Do you need any help?"
"Only with things needin' two hands. I can walk."
"Maybe. But you're too damn slow." Gunn suddenly appeared behind them, having approached with a stealth worthy of Angel. Surprise was the last thing Wesley needed at the moment, and he was sure Doyle needed it even less.
"Would you please not do that," Wesley gasped.
Gunn grinned with glee. "I woulda thought hanging around Angel made you guys surprise-proof by now."
"Yeah, well, it doesn't. Happy now?" Doyle growled.
"Completely," Gunn assured them. "Speaking of, is the man in? Got a game in progress, maybe he might wanna know the score."
Wesley thought of asking, but was too frustrated at the moment to want to pursue the issue. "In his apartment, last I saw of him. I don't suppose you'd..." Gunn had already darted into the building. "...want to help."
Gunn had concluded he probably should mention to Angel that Wolfram & Hart appeared to be up to something. He was enjoying the extra work and occasional paycheck too much to risk it disappearing. The demon, however, was his toy and he had no intention of mentioning it. Of course, if Miss Wannabe 2000 wouldn't let him downstairs he wouldn't get to mention anything.
"Since when do I need an appointment to see Angel? I work for the man, remember? Your idea, I heard," Gunn emphasized the last point.
"He's a vampire, remember?" Cordelia mimicked him. "And you're a contract employee, not a real employee. No benefits. No walk-ins. Make an appointment."
"NOW you're gonna act like a real secretary? Sheesh. I'm beginnin' to think this is personal," Gunn complained. It had to be personal, he couldn't remember ever having seen the chick be professional before. 'Gotta be me,' he concluded.
"It is personal. The powers want me to look out for you, that includes deciding if it's a good time for you to see Angel," she announced.
Wonderful. The one time he didn't need confirmation. "And when would be a good time for me to see him?" he countered sarcastically.
Cordelia started to look up to answer him, startled a bit, then put on her best 'just joking' smile. "How about now?"
Gunn turned around to see Angel standing in the doorway behind him. "Cordelia, he works here," the vampire offered in amusement. Gunn didn't like being anyone's amusement. He was really getting annoyed now.
"Only sometimes," Cordelia chirped.
"Only always."
"Just when needed. Can't afford full-time."
"Counts the same."
Gunn had had enough now. "You know, I stopped bein' five years old a long time ago."
Angel regarded him. "I stopped being 200 years old a long time ago."
"Very funny."
"You wanted to see me?" Angel asked, finally changing his tone to seriousness.
"He doesn't have an appointment," Cordelia pointed out again.
Angel ignored her. "Something up?"
Finally, he could get to the point. "I been seeing Wolfram & Hart around a lot lately."
Angel shrugged. "Lawyers. Rats. They're everywhere."
"Yeah, but I mean they're really gettin' busy. Like everywhere I go. Don't think they've actually seen me, but their hobbies are gettin' too close to mine." That was probably what annoyed Gunn the most. The invasion of his turf. If Wolfram & Hart wanted a piece of Angel, they could do it without coming into his neighborhood.
"Anyone in particular?"
"Captain Hook."
A look of concern passed briefly over Angel's face. "Any ideas what he's up to?"
Now Gunn shrugged. "Just him bein' around does it for me."
Angel didn't answer. He appeared lost in thought.
"Hello?"
Angel stood up straight, dead serious now. "You see Lindsey, you let me know. When, where, whatever, call me."
"Okay." Gunn was a little taken aback by Angel's sudden interest, but kept it to himself. "Something I oughta know about?"
"Angel cut a deal with Lindsey," Cordelia interrupted. Angel gave her a glance that had probably killed people in the past. "Sorry. Private conversation. I'll leave now." She slunk out of the room, embarrassed.
"You did what?" Suddenly Gunn was glad he hadn't mentioned the demon. Suddenly he wasn't clear what side of the fence Angel was working.
Angel raised his hands. "I know, I know. But it's the only way to get to Santiago. And you know how important that is to me."
'Apparently,' Gunn thought, 'I didn't.' "Santiago is that important? I dunno about that..."
"You don't have to know," Angel snapped. "Just do."
"Fine. You want to play footsie with Wolfram & Hart, be my guest," Gunn snapped back and turned to leave. He'd already heard too much here.
"But if you see him..."
"Yeah. Maybe I will."
"Do we have everything?" Angel was glad he trusted Wesley on such things as supplies and equipment, because he would never have wanted or been able to handle that end of the job, not this week. Besides his higher level of brooding, planning, and worrying, he now had Doyle home, and Angel wanted to make sure Doyle was resting and healing according to doctor's orders. Of course, Angel thought wryly, Doyle considered it hovering.
"I believe so," Wesley answered with less than interest. He had been trying for the last few days to memorize the requisite spells, without success.
"Everything stinky, disgusting or just plain blecch, we have it. Clearance sale Sunday, I hope," Cordelia added, wrinkling her nose.
"Good," Angel settled into a chair. "No problems, are there Wes?"
"Mmmmm." Wesley finally looked up. "Not a problem, really, just a minor hindrance."
"The last minor hindrance had claws the size of my arms," Cordelia reminded them.
Wesley reddened slightly. "Nothing like that. Just that closing the passage will take longer than opening it, not to mention additional energy. As long as nothing unusual happens, I should be able to get it closed in a reasonable amount of time."
"So, don't fall in," Cordelia noted.
"Exactly."
"Then there shouldn't be a problem," Angel answered.
"Unless Wolfram & Hart got somethin' extra in mind for ya, which they always seem to have," Doyle interjected. None of them had noticed him come into the office and lean himself against the doorway. "I don't like it. Trustin' those guys not to double-cross ya...besides, maybe they want ya to do that. Maybe..."
"I took care of it," Angel interrupted sharply. Doyle had to work hard to really annoy Angel, but this topic tended to do the trick. Doyle had found a way to work his displeasure with Angel's plans into nearly every conversation for three days. "They want Santiago gone as much we do."
"Not as much as they want you gone," Doyle returned fire.
"If there was another way I'd do it," Angel snapped.
Doyle snorted. "Have you considered anythin' else? Or did ya just take the first offer?"
Angel glared. "I took the best offer on the table."
"Any offer not involvin' takin' the game to their home field has to be better."
Cordelia's interest had perked up. "Wow. I should have sold tickets for this. Not to mention that for once I agree with Doyle. Something stinks besides the sheepy brain."
"All right then," Angel drew in a deep breath. In truth, he didn't like the plan much either. But neither was he inclined to take a chance on Santiago moving first. "Here's an alternative. We do nothing. Santiago comes back, grabs one or more of you, I can't find you in time, use your imagination for the rest."
Cordelia pondered this a moment. "Okay. I like working with Wolfram & Hart. Really peachy. So much more pleasant than...that creep. Happy?"
"No, but apology accepted," Angel was relieved.
"Still not happy," groused Doyle.
"When Santiago's gone, you will be," Angel tried to assure him.
"Doubt it."
Wesley looked up from his book briefly. "I'll be happy if you would all let me read this book and ensure I do things properly tomorrow," he snapped. Then he reconsidered. "If that's all right, with all of you, of course."
At Angel's orders, Doyle was expressly uninvited to the presumably final confrontation with Santiago. Just to make sure he didn't try to tag along, Angel further deemed Doyle would be best served if he was at Cordelia's apartment, where Dennis could make sure he stayed put. Angel wasn't enthralled by the idea of leaving Doyle alone at all; but after much pondering Angel had concluded that between his present weakened state and his opposition to the entire plan Doyle couldn't possibly be of help, and Angel wasn't about to risk him being hurt. Doyle, naturally, disagreed. Vehemently.
Doyle scrunched himself down in the back seat of Angel's car on the ride to Cordelia's place, in full sulk mode. "I don't need a babysitter," he growled.
"Think of it as protective custody," Angel suggested. He thought he'd said it in a dryly humorous way, but Doyle didn't think it was funny.
"Don't need that either."
Cordelia decided it was her turn to smooth out Doyle, not that Angel would ever have chosen her for that. "I'm sure you and Dennis will do fine. Besides, it's not like you would be any help tonight or be anything but in the way."
"Cordelia..." Angel mumbled between clenched teeth.
"What?" she asked innocently.
"Thanks, Cordelia, you're making me feel so much better I'll have to throw myself out in the road in front of a bus," Doyle glared at her.
"I don't see why you're so upset. I've found Dennis makes perfectly good company, and he's quite the chess player besides...," Wesley began but trailed off when he noticed Doyle was now glaring at him. "...but I suppose you don't play chess then."
"Hrmph."
"Right. Perhaps poker would be more appropriate. Although I'm not sure how that would work."
"And strip poker would be totally pointless," Cordelia added. She paused briefly. "And possibly traumatic for Dennis."
All in all, Angel thought dismally, the trip over couldn't have been worse. But at least Doyle would be safe tonight.
Angel had severely underestimated Doyle's stubbornness, however. Doyle had decided there was no way he wasn't going to try to be there, and no way he wouldn't try to keep Angel from making a major mistake that could get him killed. He had also decided there was no point in trying to change the vampire's mind. He would have to get there on his own, the catch being, first he would have to get past Dennis. And since Doyle hadn't anticipated being stuck with the ghost, he had little time to formulate a plan to trick Dennis.
Much of the problem was merely trying to outsmart an invisible opponent. Doyle wished he knew where Dennis was, and how much attention he was paying at any given moment. But unfortunately ghosts didn't leave 'back in five minutes' notes and he was going to have to guess when Dennis' guard was down. Doyle made a point of settling into the couch with a book and ignoring the spirit for an hour, at the end of which Dennis hadn't done anything indicative of his presence for some time.
'Here goes nothin',' Doyle thought, and got up as quietly as he could. He walked to the door softly and slowly turned the knob. He hadn't made a sound. It didn't matter. No sooner did he have the door open than it suddenly slammed closed again.
"Dennis! Come on, man, gimme one break would ya?" Doyle grimaced in no particular direction. He didn't know where Dennis was anyway. Doyle tried the knob again but Dennis wouldn't allow it to budge, and the ghost's irritation was palpable in the air.
"Listen Den, let's discuss this, right? They're gonna need all the help they can get tonight, includin' me, an' I gotta get to 'em. Cordelia's gonna need somebody to look out for her, can't ya just let me out?"
No reaction, but the door was still shut tight. Fine then. 'You wanna play dirty, I can do that too,' Doyle decided.
"Ya know Dennis, I was just thinkin', ya must get to see a lot of Cordelia what with her livin' with ya an' all. Betcha sneaked a few peeks, huh?"
If the air could blush, it was. Doyle felt an overall air of embarrassment in the room. Perfect. "In the shower, an' when she gets dressed, I envy ya man, really, I do. What I wouldn't do for a look myself. 'Specially when she doesn't know..." The mood changed to guilt. 'Damn, I'm good,' Doyle thought in satisfaction and hoped Dennis wasn't catching on. "Oh, she doesn't know does she? Why Dennis, you're a naughty boy! What would she do if she knew that?"
Judging by the atmosphere, literally, Dennis was definitely feeling a little deflated now. "Now, that don't necessarily mean I'd tell her. If, say, ya were to help me out a little, say, leave the door open a minute, then I think I'd see fit not to mention it." Doyle held his breath, waiting to see if his bluff would work.
The door slowly, reluctantly opened. Doyle let his breath out in relief and grabbed his jacket. "Ya see Den? Not so hard to get along together. An' I promise, I'll keep our little secret to myself." Doyle gave Dennis a wink before he darted out the door. He had things to do, places to go and people to see before he caught up to Angel and Cordelia. Starting with finding out where they went in the first place.
Gunn had now been tracking the new demon for several days, and he was reasonably satisfied he knew the creature's behaviors and inclinations. He still wasn't sure if the thing didn't require some weird spell or specific means to incur its death, but he was game to give it a try with spears and stakes. Those still worked on most demons. And if it didn't, well, he'd wanted to go down fighting anyway.
The only reason he hadn't faced down the demon yet was Wolfram & Hart. His curiosity about what the lawyers might have in mind had kept him in the shadows for a while, but as the lawyers still hadn't made a move after nearly a week his impatience wasn't going to allow him to wait any longer. Tonight, he had resolved, he would destroy it.
Gunn realized something wasn't quite right well before he arrived at the abandoned rowhouse in which the demon had set up residence. There were a few trucks on the street, and more than one always meant something was up. There weren't that many stupid truck drivers in Los Angeles. He stepped back into the dark and strained to listen.
A battle of some variety was taking place inside the rowhouse. He could hear the demon's snarls and yelps as it fought something--something human. Gunn heard several human voices, including one he'd heard many times before. Captain Hook was out on the town. Nuts. 'Wolfram & Hart beat me to it,' he complained bitterly to himself.
In time McDonald left the rowhouse, his typically smug face even more self-satisfied than usual. 'If Angel's not going to wipe that look off his face, then I'm sure gonna do it,' Gunn promised himself. McDonald was followed by some of the firm's muscle, who were straining to drag a cage behind them. The demon, expressly unhappy, was trapped inside. 'They got something in mind for you,' Gunn thought silently, 'and I'm gonna find out what.'
Gunn slipped back to his truck and followed them to an old paper factory not all that far away from his neighborhood. He knew the place fairly well, in fact, he'd used it for some training with his newer recruits since the paper industry had moved out. The place stank, but otherwise it was useful. Obviously he wasn't the only one who thought so.
The still-caged and increasingly distraught demon was carted inside the factory as McDonald spoke to one of men, apparently giving instructions but Gunn noticed the envelope that changed hands as well. Then McDonald got back into his chauffered Lincoln, and the man with the orders went inside the factory with the others. With no one left outside the factory, Gunn decided now would be a good time to make a move and find out what was going on inside.
With old and unpleasant but still habitable homes situated on either side of the factory, Gunn was able to walk right up to the property without needing to conceal himself. People walked past the place all the time, it was only the getting closer part he really needed to be careful about. Once past the main gates, he hopped the fence and skittered across the yard in the shadows to the main building. He could hear the squeals and complaints from the demon from inside, and had just about figured out where exactly in the building the demon was being held when he was slammed into the wall facefirst.
Lindsey had the car drop him off back at Wolfram & Hart. Much as he would have enjoyed being part of tonight's festivities, it would look a lot better for him to be working late in the office on paperwork when the news came in. Better chance of feigning ignorance that way, even though Holland had a knack for seeing through such things.
As he wrestled with the key to the office door, he noticed a scratch or two on the doorknob. 'Lovely,' he thought, 'another benefit of instant lefthandedness.' He'd have to call maintenance for a new lock.
In time he succeeded in his battle with the lock and slipped inside the office, closing the door behind him and flipping on his desk light from the wall switch. He preferred using only the desk light at night. Something about dim light in the office made him feel like he was sacrificing even more than he already was for the job.
He set his briefcase and files on the desk but didn't have a chance to straighten before someone--or something--grabbed him from behind and wrapped a forearm across his throat. Then the arm started to squeeze. Lindsey scrabbled frantically as his air was cut off, gasping and wheezing as he tried to free himself from his attacker. Dimly it occurred to Lindsey that not all the struggles for air he was hearing were his own. Whoever, whatever, was attacking him wasn't doing too well either. Lindsey finally caught a strong hold of the offending arm with his good hand, and with everything remaining to him pried himself loose.
Lindsey scrambled behind his desk, desperately searching the drawers for the gun he kept there, just in case. It wasn't there. From the other side of the desk, he heard the click of a trigger. Damn.
"I think ya...might be lookin' for this? But I wouldn't be...tryin' to get it...back just now," Lindsey heard. Whoever had attacked him was now shorter of breath than Lindsey was. And the whoever was also Irish, from the sound of him. Lindsey realized who it was and got back to his feet slowly.
Angel's half-demon friend...Doyle, wasn't it?...was ungracefully collapsed in the chair Lindsey kept for clients, gulping for air but nevertheless keeping a very firm hold on the gun that once had been in Lindsey's desk. And he had it pointed right at Lindsey--with his right hand, of course. Doyle's left arm was strapped tightly against his body, and Lindsey had a suspicion their brief tussle had been much more painful for Doyle than it had been for himself. Good. He deserves it for breaking into my office. This probably isn't going the way he had in mind either, it occurred to Lindsey. Maybe I can talk him out of it.
"So...Doyle, is that right? I should be used to having certain--problems--with office break-ins by now. I was expecting Angel though. Is he on his way?" Doyle didn't move or speak but his expression flickered slightly. Bingo. "He doesn't even know you're here, does he? So, I could call security and have you shot and he'd never even know. For that matter, I have a feeling I could kill you myself."
"Not a chance," Doyle answered softly. His eyes hadn't left Lindsey for even a second. "I checked. Six bullets. Plenty enough to get a few in ya before ya could even think a' gettin' it away from me. An' I have a feelin' ya don't wanna die just yet."
'Checkmate,' Lindsey thought drily. 'I don't.'
"So this is what I'm thinkin', right? We're gonna walk downstairs together, lawyer an' his client, goin' out to talk some business. Ya ain't gonna try anythin' or tell nobody. Ya call your car an' take me wherever it is ya sent Angel. We understandin' here? I'm thinkin' a misunderstandin' wouldn't be all that good for your health."
"We have an understanding." The words came out clipped.
Doyle nodded slightly and unsteadily rose to his feet. "Let's go then," he gestured with the gun, and Lindsey wasn't inclined to disagree.
One of the distinct disadvantages to be considered at least slightly mentally off-balance by one's superiors, as presently being unpleasantly experienced by Kate, was picking up routine, rinky-dink assignments like breaking up disturbances between rival gangs and criminal enterprises. At least, a routine disturbance was what she expected when she was sent with a couple uniforms to check into a report of several large white men beating up a black man. The best she could hope for, she thought drily, is that somehow this averts a major race riot, saves the department a lot of future headaches and maybe gets me back on a more appropriate detail. Regrettably, it was not that sort of situation.
The uniforms had already separated tonight's combatants, three thick-necked and probably thicker-skulled goons that may as well have had 'muscle' stamped on their faces, and a youngish street punk who was guaranteed trouble. 'Wonderful', she muttered to herself. She stood between the warring factions and stared each of them down in turn.
"Let me guess, and tell me how close I am guys." She turned to the muscle. "You fine upstanding citizens are trying to run a legitimate business concern for whoever your wonderful and completely above-board boss is, and this street trash is upsetting his totally legal business plan, making it necessary for you to explain to him in specific detail why he should entertain himself elsewhere."
Two of them looked completely blank. Probably shouldn't have used words with more than one syllable on them. The third was vaguely less confused. "Yes, ma'am, that's what happened all right," he grunted uncomfortably.
"Uh-huh." Kate switched to the punk, who she noted was going to have quite the shiner the next day. "You were just walking to the store, through a neighborhood that doesn't happen to have a convenience store, to pick up a gallon of milk, and suddenly these rednecks jumped you for no reason at all. Walking while black. Is that it?"
The punk simply stared back at her. And she didn't like the way he stared at her. He wasn't going to cooperate. Great. "Since you're not answering, I'll assume I'm right. And all of you are so full of crap I ought to take the lot of you to the treatment plant," she growled at all of them. She faced the trio again. "You, I don't ever want to hear about you guys again. You're leaving now and we're pretending this never happened." Kate punctuated her speech by giving the nearest muscle man a shove.
She turned back to the punk. "You could use a ride to the clinic, I'll give you one. I strongly suggest you don't come back to this neighborhood. You got that?"
He nodded very slightly without breaking eye contact for the slightest second. "I don't need a clinic. For anything."
"Shut up and get in the car. You're leaving the neighborhood, now."
Clearly unhappy but unwilling to contradict her, he silently got in the back of her squad car and stuffed his hands into his pants pockets in disgust. He said nothing until they were nearly to the clinic, and she wished he hadn't said anything then either. "I told you I didn't need no help."
"Don't mouth off to me," Kate snapped. "Trouble. I hate trouble. You're it."
The punk's temper was rising. "The last thing I'm gonna do is mouth off to the LAPD. You'll shoot me soon as look at me. And I ain't near the trouble that those boys are, and you know that."
"Yeah, well maybe I don't know that. There's enough trouble around this city the police don't even want to believe in, I don't need any more from you."
Even as she said it, Kate wondered why on earth she was revealing something like that to some home boy. But his reaction to her words was not at all what she expected. The punk cooled off just enough to look at her in an almost quizzical manner. Kate would never have thought the next words would ever have come from someone like him. "Them, at the factory--they're with Wolfram & Hart."
Kate froze solid. "What did you--"
"They're lawyer boy's bullies," he repeated quietly.
A million ideas were whirling around Kate's head instantly, not the least of which was what possible paranormal incident might have been going on here. "How did you know?" she demanded. "What do you know about Wolfram & Hart? What the hell was going on here?"
"You're Lockley, aren't you? You know Angel."
Oh cripes. Angel. Not a day you don't have to deal with something having to do with him. It occurred to Kate she had heard Angel had recently had some dealings with a street gang, and just as quickly she realized who she was probably talking to.
"And you work for Angel."
"I don't work for nobody. I work with him, sometimes. So do you."
"Not anymore, I don't!" she snapped back. "You're gonna tell me what really happened, and by the way, silence is not an option."
He shifted a little uneasily. "Some kind of demon runnin' around loose, Wolfram & Hart caught it and I don't think we wanna know what they're gonna do with it. They caught me watching." He shrugged. "Can't afford DVDs, gotta find my own entertainment."
She sighed. He was right; she didn't want to know what the demon was for. But it would almost definitely lead to corpses if she didn't find out. "Any particular reason you're being so generous with this information?"
He shrugged, then grinned. "I think I could use a ride back to the factory."
"Naturally," Kate muttered.
The old factory where Lindsey had said Santiago would be was sandwiched between two crumbling old neighborhoods and appeared to be in some degree of use. At least, Angel said so. Wesley hadn't noticed himself, but Angel noted out loud that some of the cigarette butts scattered here and there hadn't stopped smoldering. Someone had been here, not so long ago, but no one now. Fair enough. 'After all, Santiago wouldn't need to check in on an abandoned property, now would he?' Wesley told himself.
"Okay, so now what?" Cordelia demanded. She and Angel both looked at Wesley.
"What?"
"Where do you want to set up?" Angel asked.
"Oh, right, so, where to put a passageway to hell?" Wesley mused to himself.
Cordelia adopted a wicked grin. "I don't think they've written the feng shui book for that one."
Wesley glared at her. "I'm sure they haven't. But neither would we want to corner ourselves."
"You two figure it out," Angel had yet to stop pacing throughout the main floor, and Wesley couldn't help wondering if something was bothering Angel. Particularly since the vampire had stopped to try one particular door twice already. But the door was locked, and whatever about it that was drawing Angel's attention, it wasn't drawing enough for Angel to break down the door. Besides, Wesley had long since learned better than to ask. "I need to get started on the other half of the plan. We don't have that much time."
Lindsey sat in the back of his company car with Doyle, who still had the gun on him. Lindsey wasn't particularly concerned. Without Doyle's knowledge, he had succeeded in pressing what he supposed might be called a panic button in some circles. Wolfram & Hart had them in all of the company vehicles, and they were already alerted to his situation. For that matter, they were listening. And someone would be at the factory when they got there, and Angel's friend would learn his mistake in a most unpleasant way.
"What's the catch?" Doyle asked. Lindsey had been feeling so smug he'd almost forgotten the half-demon.
"Uh--what catch? I'm doing exactly as you instructed."
"Ya know what I'm meanin'. Angel. What's gonna happen he don't know about?"
"Nothing."
"Yeah, you're funny. A lawyer tellin' the truth, right. Try again," Doyle aimed the gun a little more precisely as the car pulled up outside the factory.
"I haven't the slightest idea what you're talking about. Angel and I are not exactly on speaking terms," Lindsey said evenly, as he cautiously got out of the car with Doyle just behind him.
"Odd how I don't believe ya," Doyle noted, but Lindsey heard the slightest bit of doubt in his voice. The half-Brachen hadn't really thought this whole thing out at all. Too bad for him.
"To be honest, it doesn't really matter if you believe me or not," Lindsey told Doyle as he let them both into the factory. Doyle looked at him, surprised. He would have been even more surprised to see the man who stepped up from behind him and struck him over the head, if he hadn't been knocked out cold first. "Like I was saying," Lindsey repeated, standing over Doyle's now still form, "it doesn't really matter."
"What should I do with him?" asked the man with the pipe.
"The Konoste?" Lindsey inquired.
"Caged it up in the boiler room, like you said to do."
"Good. Put him in there with it and wait for me outside. I want to watch this."
"Yes, sir. And sir? Mr. Santiago's car just pulled up."
Santiago was more than ready for Angel. He had spent the last several days savoring each and every thought of possible things he could do to the vampire before destroying him, and doubly savoring thoughts of what he could do with the vampire's employees. Especially the girl. He would take his time with her. He regretted only that he couldn't capture the evening on film for later, but the blasted attorney was insistent that wiring the building for video was too risky. Ordinarily he would have dismissed McDonald's protests, but the attorney had, for once, come up with a decent idea and he was, after all, delivering the vampire on a platter, so he would concede to the young man on that point. And on that point, only.
McDonald was already at the factory, for some odd reason inside it himself, but the lawyer assured him he was making sure Angel was there. The vampire is a few rooms in, McDonald noted, still looking for the Konoste. It would take him a while yet to find where the creature was caged, and longer still to take down that door.
Not that it mattered a bit, Santiago had no intention of waiting a moment longer. After briefly discussing matters and receiving assurances anyone trying to escape the building would be shot on sight, Santiago stepped inside the building and limited his visibility. The vampire wouldn't be fooled, but the humans would be.
As promised, he found Angel investigating a padlocked door, his attention devoted fully to said door, and the girl and the Englishman stood near the front entrance. The girl was closest. Santiago stepped behind her quietly and grabbed her by her arms, yanking both of them backwards and delighting in her screech of pain.
"ANGEL!" she yelped, as the Englishman, startled, backed away quickly. No matter. He would go nowhere.
The vampire slowly straightened and calmly turned around. Stealth was no longer an issue; Santiago let himself be seen. "A prize for my mantelpiece," he smiled at Angel. "She'd be quite pretty there, I do think."
"Only if you get her there. Which you won't."
"Confident, aren't you?" Santiago twisted one of the girl's arms, but to her credit, she held in her scream. "And why wouldn't I?"
"You came for me. I'll fight you, and I'll kill you. She's not part of this." The vampire was very cool about this whole thing. For a very brief moment, Santiago wondered if Angel had known he was coming. But the moment was overshadowed by his glee.
"Oh, but she is. And so is he," Santiago added without looking to see where the Englishman had gone. There was no way out of this room except the entrance, now blocked, and he had no concerns. "We will fight, you are correct, but I will kill. And when we're done..." he let go of the girl's arms and she tumbled forward, then wheeled to face him upon regaining her balance. He rewarded her by gazing at her and licking his lips.
"Eewwww...," she whined.
"You have to kill me first," the vampire murmured. "Think you could get to that sometime today, or do you need a raincheck?"
Santiago didn't bother answering. If he did, the vampire would be ready. Instead he lunged at the vampire, kicking out his feet and delighting in the feeling of his right foot connecting solidly with the vampire's jaw. The vampire stumbled backwards, shaken but not down. "I checked. It's not raining," Santiago announced.
He wheeled and this time his left foot connected with the vampire's midsection, forcing the vampire to stagger further back into the room. But Angel made no counter-moves, and there was no sign of his demon. 'Perhaps I should be concerned about that,' Santiago thought fleetingly, but instead his delight at having the upper hand prevailed. He raised both arms above his head to double chop the vampire over the head, but Angel brought his arms up at the last instant to block the blow. Again, Angel did not counterstrike, but allowed himself to be forced backwards.
"You'll run out of real estate," Santiago told the vampire. "I, on the other hand, have plenty of real estate. In Cancun--" he punched Angel in the face with his right hand "--Monaco--" he landed a blow with his left hand "--Hawaii--" now he kicked again and Angel fell back against the wall "--and Manhattan." Santiago landed one more kick and Angel crumpled to the floor. Santiago paused to admire his own handiwork. "And you?"
Angel grinned up at him. "I have some. In wine country."
An odd response. 'What could the vampire possibly mean by that?' Santiago almost asked out loud, when he smelled it. And that was too late. In an instant he was inundated with pure grain alcohol and it burned. It burned and seared and bubbled away at his flesh and he collapsed screaming. Not in pain. The pain he could survive. The alcohol, he could survive. But not losing.
Angel scrambled back to his feet, taking care to avoid Santiago, who rolled and convulsed on the floor in apparent agony. Somewhere inside him, Angelus chuckled at the sight, but this time even his souled self was enjoying the view and he wasn't going to feel guilty about it. Santiago deserved every second of this. The only thing better would be if Santiago would be in pain for as long as Doyle would be...but Angel would settle for destroying Santiago permanently at this point.
Wesley scampered down the ladder from the rafters, where he had been waiting with the barrel for the proper moment. Upon approaching Angel, Wesley opened his mouth to say something but instead sneezed. Repeatedly. "Perfect timing, Wes. Couldn't have done it better," Angel told Wesley, more than satisfied with Wesley's work so far.
"Th--ah-choo--thank you," Wesley managed as his eyes watered. "The odor is a little--ah-choo--overpowering, if I may say."
"Seriously. I haven't smelled anything like this since that one frat party..." both Angel and Wesley stared at Cordelia quizzically. "You know, forget I mentioned it." Cordelia regarded the still-struggling Santiago disdainfully. "So, are we going to just stand here or can we get him goner than last week's fashions?"
"Gladly," announced Wesley, and retreated to the circle he had prepared. Cordelia plunked herself down beside him and began handing him various items as Wesley read the incantation.
Angel kept an eye on Santiago. A very self-satisfied eye, he noted to himself, as the floor behind Santiago began to lose its definition. As Wesley continued, the floor gradually darkened and changed, billowing smoke and before long emitting a definitive stench that Angel could not forget. The stench of hell. The passage was open.
Feeling triumphant, Angel picked up Santiago, deliberately inflicting pressure on the worst of the demon's raw flesh. "Feels good, doesn't it?" he asked. Santiago didn't respond. "Time's up and you're out." Angel flung Santiago into the hole where the floor had been. With a final, diminishing scream, Santiago vanished into the darkness and only an additional burst of smoke marked his final exit.
Lindsey actually thought the battle was a touch disappointing. Santiago could fight well, but not as well as Angel. He never considered Angel might lose this contest. Of course, the vampire had 'lost' on purpose. And he had to give Angel credit for his staging. Almost worthy of his own planning, but not quite.
He knew he had a minute while Angel's assistants conjured up the passage. Lindsey slipped back to the factory's boiler room. As requested, Doyle had been dumped in the far corner, where he was showing a few vague signs of regaining consciousness. 'Too bad for him,' Lindsey thought, with more malice than he expected to feel. But the guy had pulled a gun on him, had the gall to do it in the office even, and he deserved whatever the Konoste was going to dish out. And she was going to do that, Lindsey was certain. Just as long as she saved some of it for Angel.
The Konoste was wide awake and distressed. She rushed the side of the cage as Lindsey approached it, then retreated to the far corner to sulk. She wasn't pleased that Lindsey was human, but Lindsey had to admit, at the moment, he was pretty glad to be human. Konoste demons weren't pleasant to their fellow demons, but had no interest at all in humans.
"Disappointed, are you? Don't worry. Got a few demons for you." Lindsey removed the padlock from the door of the cage. It took longer than he expected. Damn plastic hand. But he got the lock off, and swung the door open. The Konoste didn't move, but simply glared at him. "Whenever you're ready. Sorry we don't have champagne and candles, but there is an appetizer." Lindsey noted the last with a gesture towards Doyle. Then he slipped back out of the room. Doyle's fate wouldn't have full entertainment value without Angel there to watch. He paused for a moment, then decided to re-padlock the outside door. It would take Angel that much longer to get there, and give the Konoste a little more time to, 'do its thing', as it were.
By the time Lindsey returned to the front of the factory, Angel's assistants had the passageway opened, and Lindsey watched, satisfied, as the vampire heaved the helpless Santiago into the passage. 'Good riddance to you,' Lindsey smirked. 'And to you, too, Angel,' he added to himself as he stepped out into the room. The girl saw him first and yelped. The vampire whirled to see what she was looking at, then turned on Lindsey with a fury born of someone who just realized he's been had. Too late.
"What are you doing here?" Angel snapped at Lindsey. Angel had changed to his vampire form, not that Lindsey cared. "I don't remember this being in our little agreement."
"It wasn't," Lindsey agreed, failing to completely hide a self-satisfied smirk. "But I always leave loopholes in my contracts. Never know when you might need to, say, shuffle the deck a bit?"
"I see," Angel growled softly. Suddenly he grabbed Lindsey by the throat and threw him against the wall. "I always know what game I'm playing. Tell me."
Lindsey no longer bothered trying to hide his satisfaction. Even if he got himself killed right here and now, he had won, and the vampire had lost, and nothing in the world mattered a fraction as much to Lindsey as that fact. "Dealer's choice," he told Angel cheerfully.
Even as he said it, they both heard the screams. The look on Angel's face was worth everything, 'even losing my hand,' Lindsey thought. "Your pal thought he was smart and could pull something fancy with me. Doesn't work that way. Sounds like he's getting acquainted with Wolfram & Hart's new pet. I'm sure they'll get along just fine, y--" he didn't get to finish as Angel's fist smashed into his mouth and sent him flying.
God, his head hurt. No, worse than that, Doyle corrected himself. My head hurts more than my arm does. "No, check that, my arm hurts more," Doyle muttered. What the hell had he been thinking, actually believing the lawyer would cooperate? "New resolution--pain pills that don't make me stupid," he groaned to no one in particular as he shoved himself upward. "Or at least make me feel better as well as stupid."
Something moved slightly and Doyle just barely heard it. So there was someone in here with him, wherever here was. It occurred to him that whatever he was leaning against at the moment, was warm and humming a bit. Probably a heater or generator of some kind. He must still be in the factory. So it was probably the lawyer in there with him.
"You havin' fun yet?" he spat out. Except that made his head hurt more. The only response was a shuffling sort of sound, followed by what sounded like sniffing. 'Sniffing...oh, crap, it ain't human,' Doyle thought drearily. "Okay, so what are ya then? Demon? Ya gonna let me get a look at ya or not?"
The source of the sound took a couple of steps closer to Doyle and in the limited light he could see whatever it was, it was on all fours and very animal-like. And it was approaching him because of the sound, not his actual words, he realized. 'Shutting up might be a real good idea,' he decided, and started to crawl backwards alongside whatever piece of machinery was holding him up at the moment.
The creature kept ambling towards him, in no great hurry and still sniffing the air with great interest. It wasn't big, whatever it was, but Doyle could hear its claws click on the concrete floor and he was certain he'd rather it didn't get any closer. But closer it came, until it stopped less than a yard in front of him. And it began to chirp.
Well, maybe chirp wasn't quite the word. Warble maybe. Something a bird would do, Doyle thought. And for some odd reason he couldn't move anymore. Something about the sounds it was making paralyzed him. He could barely breathe as he waited and wondered what the thing was going to do.
Apparently the creature was wondering what to do as well, but then it made up its mind and leaped, landing on Doyle with claws outstretched and stabbing into his skin. The pain cancelled out whatever trance the creature's chirps had created and Doyle started screaming.
Kate drove Gunn back to the factory, but neither of them enjoyed the ride. They were caught in a traffic jam on top of everything else, and Gunn was beginning to wonder about whether they'd be back in time. Not worried. He didn't worry about Angel. But if Angel had brought the others with him... "He didn't say nothing to me about a party tonight. If they're knockin' heads without me I'm gonna have some serious issues to discuss here."
"Issues are all Angel has," snorted Kate as she parked her car next to Angel's. She clearly wasn't looking forward to dealing with Angel, regardless of what else might be going tonight.
As they got out and walked towards the factory, Gunn heard noise from the front. Waving Kate back, he peered around the far corner of the factory. There were two other cars there, both expensive and with waiting drivers, one of whom he'd seen before. He scampered back to Kate. "Definitely a lawyer party here."
"Terrific. We better go in the back then."
"Not a problem." Gunn found a door and picked the lock easily.
"Break in much?" Kate asked.
"You didn't see that," Gunn told her back. Breaking and entering in front of cop wasn't the smartest thing to do, but she didn't have room to talk, hanging around with him.
"I haven't seen anything tonight," she snapped.
There was nothing to see inside either, too dark. Kate found a light switch, although most of the lights didn't come on. No bulbs. Enough came on to see where they were stepping at least. "Okay, wise guy. Now what?" Kate asked quietly.
"I don't--"
They both heard the screams from the other side of the wall at the same time. They both recognized the voice as well. Doyle.
"Crap!" Gunn yelled before he even realized it. He raced to the wall and found a door into that room, but the lock was not yielding to his considerable talents. Doyle's hollering was getting frantic and now Gunn could hear more sounds--squeaks and cries that sounded way too familiar. The demon was out of its cage and it had chosen Doyle for a snack. He worked the lock harder but either it was a new pick-proof design or he was panicking. He didn't like to think he was panicking. Must be a new kind of lock.
Suddenly Kate yanked him away from the door. "What the hell are you--" he started to demand before he realized Kate had her gun out. With two blasts, the door was opened permanently. "Nice shot."
"Thanks. Now what the hell's in there?"
"Big trouble," Gunn answered, grabbing a metal pipe and dashing in. He hadn't heard Doyle for several moments, and he had a pretty good idea what was happening in there.
As things turned out, his guess was off a bit, and for once, that was a good thing. The demon had Doyle pinned down in a corner, but so far Doyle appeared to be holding up better than the demon's last few conquests. The demon was trying its best to tear open Doyle's throat, but Doyle was managing to keep the thing from inflicting major damage by keeping his bad arm, completely encased with a cast, between the creature and his neck. But Doyle was clearly tiring and the demon would get the final blow in at any moment.
"Ain't he up to your standards?" Gunn yelled at the demon, hoping it would pay attention to him. It did. The demon stopped clawing at Doyle and leaned back on its haunches, eying Gunn carefully. "Or can't you do any better that that? Funny, I didn't think you only took what lawyer boy fed you."
The demon growled softly in annoyance and, forgetting Doyle, turned to approach Gunn. It sniffed the air voraciously as it came closer to Gunn, who kept the pipe at the ready. He didn't think it would attack him--or at least, not at full throttle. One thing he had learned about this thing, it could care less about humans. This time though, Gunn was way wrong. The demon sprang at him, and he reacted too slowly.
But the demon didn't land on him. Gunn had forgotten all about Kate, but she must have had her gun drawn on the demon from her first sight of it, and her first shot struck the creature full in the chest, bringing it to the ground. Before Kate could take aim again, the demon turned tail and ran for the door, seemingly uninjured.
"Where the hell you think you're going?" Gunn roared at it. "I ain't through with you yet!"
"You mean you started?" Kate asked, as she helped Doyle to his feet.
Gunn glared at her in disgust.
"An' whatta ya mean, not up to standard?" Doyle gasped his own complaint.
"You forgot 'thank you for saving my sorry ass'," Gunn snapped.
"Come to think of it, he's not the only one who forgot," Kate added.
Unbelievable. Just...Gunn stalked off in the direction the demon had gone in. Maybe it was still in the factory somewhere. And until he killed something evil, he was going to be seriously unhappy.
Wesley was surprised by the blinding rage that swept over Angel when he saw Lindsey in the room, but not nearly so surprised as he was to see Angel inflict serious damage on Lindsey's face. Then again, the lawyer had it coming to him, several times over. Furthermore, Doyle was in trouble, from the sounds of it being attacked by something. Angel raced back to the door he had tried to open earlier, but it was still locked.
With a bellow of anger, Angel struck the door hard enough to buckle it. Wesley cringed in anticipation of Angel hitting the door again, but instead Angel turned on him. "Close the damn hole, Wesley. Now. Yesterday. Sooner," Angel snapped.
He was right, of course. Wesley had completely forgotten the passageway remained, and it wouldn't be well for the world for it to continue to exist. The passage had to be closed, immediately, and it was a far greater urgency than Doyle's well-being. They should have undertaken that task immediately. Wesley sat down and yanked Cordelia to the floor with him. "Concentrate," he hissed at her.
"But Doyle--" she started, but Angel's glare silenced her for once. "Right." Cordelia closed her eyes nervously and grabbed Wesley's hand.
Wesley tried his best but with difficulty to ignore Angel's largely futile blows against the door. That task became even more difficult when he heard, to his shock, Gunn's voice, then a gunshot. "We're concentrating, Wes, remember?" Cordelia hissed back at him.
'Touche,' Wesley thought. Locating the right page, Wesley was about to begin reading when the door suddenly exploded into fragments of metal--into the room, not in the direction Angel had been striking. In the midst of the explosion appeared a moderately sized brown demon. One he recognized instantly. A Konoste. Deceptively small, incredibly strong, and remarkably badly disposed towards their fellow demons.
The force of the Konoste's entrance carried it headfirst directly into Angel's midsection and both demons went sprawling. The Konoste staggered to its feet first, cautiously approaching Angel and sniffing at him deliberately. Then it sprang on Angel, claws first. Angel very nearly escaped the initial attack, but the Konoste's claws caught in Angel's clothing and dragged him back. Clearly angered, the Konoste tried to claw Angel's face open but was thwarted when a metal pipe wielded by Gunn crashed down on its foreleg.
Still entangled with Angel, the Konoste tried again to gouge out Angel's eyes and this time Angel was able to duck, but not free himself. His blows against the demon were apparently equivalent to flyswatting, as the Konoste only became angrier, a situation not improved by Gunn's attempts to interfere with the battle. Wesley tried to keep his eyes on the book and his concentration on his reading, but it was hard not to watch Angel and the Konoste battle or listen to Gunn taunting the incensed demon. His concentration was further ruined by Cordelia's failure to keep her attention on the spell.
"Hey! Doyle's all right," she commented with relief. "When did crazy cop lady get here?"
The resulting break in Cordelia's energies caused Wesley to stumble over the same sentence twice. 'Fine', he thought, 'I'll look and then I can start over.' For having had a scrap with a Konoste, Doyle had emerged rather well, if rather scratched up. Considering the reputation of such a creature and its present vigor for attacking Angel, Doyle was very fortunate. And Wesley was somewhat surprised at the degree of relief he felt in that regard.
But there was still that damnable passage to close. "Everyone's well and fine. May we resume, Cordelia, or do you need to check the society page first?" he asked sarcastically, annoyed at the interruption.
"Right, step one, close door to hell, step two, watch fight, gotcha," Cordelia muttered in annoyance and started to turn back to the book.
This spate of attention lasted about two seconds, if that, before it was disturbed by a gunshot that startled Wesley so much he dropped the book. "What on Earth..."
Angel and Gunn had failed to produce any progress in fighting the Konoste, and apparently Kate had felt the need to contribute. With firearms. Wesley had no idea what, if anything, had been struck by the first shot, but Gunn had ducked for cover and both Angel and the Konoste had hesitated. Kate used the hesitant moment to fire again, and this time she struck the Konoste squarely in the back. Interestingly, the Konoste appeared to lose all taste for Angel or anything else at that point, and began scrambling to break free from Angel's grip. But the vampire never let go that easily, and in desperation the Konoste kicked Angel with both hind legs, sending him flying through the air. The Konoste darted for the front entrance as Angel landed, sprawling and sliding over the edge and into the still-open hole in the floor. For a brief moment Angel clawed at the rim, but his fingers merely grazed the surface and disappeared.
Whatever that demon was, it was incredibly strong. Stronger than Angel, Doyle could attest, and he wasn't at all happy to see Angel was fighting the thing. He'd have been much happier if the demon would have simply left already, but no such luck, he thought morosely. There was nothing he could do but watch now, well, watch and wonder what Cordelia and Wesley were up to.
He was sufficiently preoccupied with that thought that he didn't realize what Kate had in mind until she was already past his reach. 'Not a good idea, damn, it's not at all,' he cursed as she began shooting at the demon. But the demon finally seemed to figure out it wasn't welcome here, and for a fleeting moment Doyle thought the whole thing might be done with. Then the demon flung Angel across the room. Doyle saw Angel's arc as he fell, the hole he was about to fall into, and then he knew what Wesley and Cordelia were doing. Still trying to close the passage. And Angel would fall into it long before they had it closed.
Doyle leaped desperately and grabbed for Angel with his good arm as the vampire's hand slipped over the edge of the smoking hole. To Doyle's shock, he felt cold flesh between his fingers, and he snapped his hand shut upon it. A moment later he landed on the ground, his bad arm between his body and the floor, and the pain was so intense he very nearly let go of what he now realized was Angel's wrist. After the initial jolt, Doyle was able to tighten his grip on Angel, but then discovered Angel's weight was too much for him and he was being pulled across the floor and over the lip of the hole with no way of stopping himself.
Just as Doyle thought he was going to be falling into to the hole right after Angel, he felt hands grabbing his legs and jerking back. 'Swell, I lose both arms and both legs', he thought--but he stopped sliding across the floor. Now his head, shoulders and chest were dangling over the edge, and his good arm was entirely within the hellhole, barely hanging onto Angel. The rest of him was still in the factory, as Gunn and Kate each had hold of a leg.
"I got him!" Doyle screeched. 'Actually, maybe I don't', it occurred to him. Angel was incredibly heavy, much heavier than he would have thought, and he was already gasping for air from the effort of not losing his hold on the vampire. He could feel every muscle in his arm and shoulder on the verge of exploding and the pain, especially in his bad arm, was horrific. Maybe another couple of seconds, he could hold on. Maybe not that long.
"Wesley, close this damn thing!" Angel bellowed. Doyle hadn't even realized Wesley and Cordelia had stopped reading, but Wesley quickly resumed reading. With Angel's yell, though, he nearly lost his hold on Angel and he did feel himself slip another inch or two over the edge.
"Hold still already!" Gunn hollered.
Doyle didn't answer him. He was in enough trouble without breaking concentration.
"Doyle. Doyle, let go," Angel said, with an air that indicated Doyle wasn't to argue with him.
Didn't work. Doyle could barely see Angel's face through the swirling smoke, and he could see from Angel's expression that he meant it. But he couldn't let go. "No," Doyle choked.
"Doyle..."
"NO!"
"You can't hold on to me without falling in yourself. I won't take you with me."
"Doyle, he's right," Kate said softly behind him but Doyle didn't really hear her.
"We can close this thing..." Doyle could barely speak now.
"No. It closes, it closes on me. And on you. Let go now."
Angel's voice was almost eerily calm and firm. His mind was made up. 'How can he make me do this?' Doyle thought painfully. The best friend I ever had, the only one who ever understood..."I can't. I won't."
"You will. Now."
And Angel's wrist was slipping through Doyle's hand, as he simply didn't have the strength to hold on anymore. He wasn't strong enough. 'I was once', Doyle thought to himself wearily, 'I was strong enough once before, the Beacon...' A wave of revulsion followed by resignation swept over him as he knew what he had to do. He had to let go. And he did.
He probably should have warned Gunn and Kate first. The sudden burst of spikes into their hands had to have hurt, if their pained yelps were any indication, and both of them nearly lost their respective holds on his legs. Even Angel looked shocked as Doyle let go of his humanity and allowed the demon free. Even as the demon burst out, he closed his fist tight on Angel's arm and pulled him upwards, as high as he could raise his body off the floor, high enough that Angel was able to reach out with his free arm and Gunn was able to grab hold of Angel. Together, Doyle and Gunn pulled Angel back onto the floor.
Even as they did so, they heard Wesley's voice rising in volume and pitch as he read the final line of the spell. In an instant, the hole vanished and only the factory floor remained where the passage had once been. Where Angel had been less than a second before.
Doyle fell back onto the floor, panting and still in his demon form. He was too exhausted even to try to resume being human, but he felt eyes on him and opened his own just long enough to see Gunn staring at him.
"Damn, you ugly," Gunn muttered in what Doyle thought might have been admiration.
"Thanks," Doyle mumbled, and passed out.
Cordelia had shut her eyes and obliterated everything from her thoughts except sending her energy to Wesley to close the passageway. They had to. Even when Wesley hesitated, she didn't open her eyes or think of anything other than channelling her energy. The thing had to be closed, even if Angel was in it.
As Wesley read the last line, she felt everything within her being sucked out, almost like a vacuum. It wasn't pleasant. But she could feel the passageway close at the same time, and the relief was tremendous, so much that for a moment she nearly fainted. As she recovered, she saw Wesley looked as wiped out as she did. "Hey! We did it. No more evil darkening the floor--door--whatever, right?" Ordinarily that might have come out as a chirp, but instead it sounded as tired as she felt.
"Right," moaned Wesley.
He thought of it at the same moment she did. "Angel," they both whispered. Wesley shook and didn't turn around. Cordelia didn't want to look either, but sometime, they would have to. She turned around.
Angel, Gunn and Kate were all half-sitting, half-slumped on the floor around Doyle's limp body. They all looked exhausted. But Angel was there. He was still here, and he was all right, and Doyle wasn't moving.
"Doyle!" she shrieked and tried to run to him, but her legs declined to cooperate and she fell in a heap only a few feet from where she had been. 'Terrific moves,' she thought. 'Can hardly wait to show off these in cheerleading.' "None of you saw that," she instructed, and half-crawled to Doyle. Now that she was closer, she saw he was in Brachen form and was so startled she nearly fell again. But he was breathing.
"I think...he's just exhausted," Angel noted.
"Him and me both," complained Gunn. "You ever thought about dieting?"
"What?" Besides disagreeing, the last thing Cordelia wanted to hear at the moment was an insult.
"Not you, him." Gunn rolled his eyes in Angel's direction.
"Oh." She returned her attention to Doyle, who was very gradually turning human again. Cordelia was inclined to agree with Angel; Doyle looked drained, and even a little older than he had earlier, but he wasn't seriously hurt. For that, she was grateful. Then she remembered how Doyle got there in the first place. "So, where's our favorite legal eagle?" she inquired, intentionally dripping sarcasm.
"Gone," Kate answered. "Did his best imitation of a high-tech stock and dropped out of sight."
"He can't drop far enough to be out of my sight," Angel growled. "But I can deal with him tomorrow."
"And that demon I've been tracking, that baby split too. Took off when Dirty Harriet started shooting and...what?" Gunn realized mid-sentence that the others were staring at him.
"You've...been tracking that creature?" Wesley asked.
"And you were going to mention this, oh, when, after it killed us? 'Sorry I forgot to tell you about the nasty thing that just ripped you to shreds, next time I'll bring it up in conversation,' was that what you had in mind?" Cordelia shrieked at him, in full hissy. This thing nearly killed Doyle, because Gunn hadn't felt like discussing it? She'd kill Gunn herself. Slowly. Just as soon as she could think of a good way to do it.
"Well,excuse me for not telling everyone I meet that I'm tailing a nasty ol' demon. Not the best icebreaker I know of," Gunn snapped back.
"But you knew Wolfram & Hart were tracking it too," Angel stared at Gunn.
Gunn backed down. Cordelia thought, with a touch of glee, Gunn knew he was wrong. "Okay, when I knew that, I shoulda told you. Happy I'm wrong?"
Angel ran his hand through his hair. "No, happy you were here in time. But don't you ever do that again. Got it?"
"Gotten." Gunn answered softly.
"Because that thing was...was..."
"A Konoste," Wesley finished. "Oh, you weren't waiting for me to answer that."
"No, I didn't know what it was. But it was strong." Angel had finally gotten to his feet and, with Gunn's help, he picked up Doyle and staggered outside.
"Yes, well, I'll have as much information on it ready for you tomorrow as you--"
"Knock it off, Wes. Angel's done." Cordelia didn't want to hear anything else from any of them, except maybe for Doyle.
Lindsey didn't go back to the office that night, but he did come back in the next day. He would need to get a head start on the paperwork created by Santiago's sudden disappearance, as well as any difficulties which might arise if the police happened to check out the factory. It wasn't the first time he'd been in on a Sunday, and he wasn't the only one working either, so he wasn't completely surprised to hear someone in the hallway. He was surprised when the someone knocked on his door.
Holland opened the door and came in without waiting for Lindsey to acknowledge the knock. He seated himself on the edge of Lindsey's desk and smiled that horrid smile of his. "Lindsey, Lindsey, Lindsey. I understand we're short a client this morning."
Lindsey shrugged. "I heard. I guess his--ego--got the better of him."
"Well, that's certainly a possibility. Santiago was always one to think he'd win every fight. Probably since he had most of them rigged in his favor first. But...there's a rumor, Lindsey, that this one may have been rigged the other way."
"What do you mean?" Lindsey inquired, hoping he sounded curious and shocked. Not that there was a point to it, Holland more than likely already knew.
"It was my understanding, Lindsey, that the vampire was going to the factory looking for the Konoste demon and Santiago would surprise him then. But the surprise was that the vampire showed up looking for the Konoste with quite a supply of grain alcohol. Meaningless to a Konoste, but quite deadly for a Cocosy, such as your former client." Holland placed a peculiar emphasis on 'former' and Lindsey knew he was in trouble.
"Now, why would he bring along something deadly to a Cocosy, if he didn't know a Cocosy would be there? It's a fascinating question."
"I have no idea what Angel was thinking."
"Yes, you do, Lindsey. He knew Santiago was going to be there." Holland shifted himself slightly. "Lindsey, here at Wolfram & Hart, a lot of our clients have difficulty with, shall we say, impulse control. It's our job here to try to help them control their impulses. And take care of any problems that may arise from their failure to do so. It is not our job to arrange for their impulses to get the better of them. You understand, of course."
"Of...course, yes. It won't happen again, sir." Maybe he'd ducked another one. Maybe he'd...
"Yes, Lindsey, it won't happen again." Holland stood up. "Phil, could you come in for moment?"
THE END
©copyright 2001 Gonzai
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