Restless Hearts
By: Zorya
She walked down the streets of LA in broad daylight. Even though it was a sweltering ninety-nine degrees with a heat index of a hundred and ten, she was dressed impeccably in a black skirt suit. The jacket was fitted and long-sleeved with a low-cut, but modest, "V" neckline. Anyone looking close enough would have noticed that the slim black skirt was perhaps a tad too short for a completely businesslike appearance -- but on the woman it looked right. Her long sleek legs were definitely an asset to be shown off as they carried her with powerful, but graceful, fast strides. A stunning gold and diamond necklace encompassed her slender throat. Her face was beautiful with full lips and high cheekbones, though her eyes were hidden behind her sunglasses. Her golden hair was pulled up in an immaculate French twist. She was cool and calm and collected. It was hard to tell if she was a business woman or merely another rich man's wife out for a day of shopping. She was small of stature, but the exquisite picture she made was enough to command attention -- yet if you asked anyone of her later, they would be hard pressed to give an exact description of the beauty.
Which was exactly the way she wanted it. She was a Ghost.
Anne Summers was her name. At least, it was the name she was known by in the highest levels of the Agency. The sum total of which would equal only five people. The Agency was more secret and concealed than the FBI, CIA, NSA and all of the Watcher's Councils combined. And she was one of the Elite. Those who knew of her existence were the unlucky ones -- the ones marked for annihilation.
In truth, her full name was Buffy Anne Summers. She stood a full five feet, three inches tall. Her hair was bleached blond and her eyes were a transient color that could change from emerald green to chocolate brown depending on her moods. And she was a Vampire Slayer. But nobody knew this. Not anymore. No, to them she was a chameleon. She could be whoever she wanted to be, whenever she wanted to be. That was why the Agency had recruited her. She'd been approached at the age of twenty because of her association in the Watcher's Council records. It was the excuse she'd needed to escape. But there were stipulations.
Buffy had to make the conscious decision to simply disappear from her life as she knew it. She could not say good-bye to her loved ones. There would certainly be a period of time after her "disappearance" that she would be searched for, but her family and friends would eventually assume that she'd been killed. The state would declare her dead. Buffy Anne Summers would cease to be.
It was a tough decision. She didn't want to leave her friends, her family, her Watcher. They meant so much to her and she'd lost so much already. Two years had passed since Angel had left her, but she'd never recovered. Her heart was no longer in her slaying duties. Sometimes she wished she really would die. And with her being a Slayer -- an aging Slayer at that -- the odds were that she'd get her wish sooner than expected. Her luck couldn't hold out forever, as Spike so often reminded her. But the Agency gave her a chance for a new life. She didn't have to be "Buffy, the Vampire Slayer".
So it was with a heavy heart, yet a knowledge that a new Slayer had already been called since Faith's demise, that she accepted the position in the lower ranks of the Agency. The memory of that last night with her friends and her mother lay deeply embedded in her heart. Perhaps they'd known it was the last time they'd see her. Then again, she'd given no hints.
"So we'll see you tomorrow at the beach?" Willow had asked as she followed Buffy up to her room.
"Yeah," Buffy'd told her, not daring to meet her eyes. She walked into her bedroom, the room that had been the place of so many memories for her over the past five years. A place she'd never see again.
"Hey, Buffy?" Willow asked hesitantly as she'd watched her friend go through the motions of preparing for bed.
"Hmmm? What's up, Will?" Buffy asked when she turned to her friend. The witchy Willow who'd grown up so much since the day Buffy had first seen her.
Willow cocked her head. There was a sense of finality around Buffy that she just couldn't grasp. "Oh, it's n-nothing. I just...I mean...well. I'm glad you came here."
Buffy had laughed. "Home? Where else would I be?"
"No, I mean, I'm glad you came to Sunnydale. You and Xander are my best friends. I wouldn't want it any other way." The red head had hugged her Slayer friend quickly and turned to walk out the door, throwing a "See you tomorrow" over her shoulder. It was the last time she ever saw Buffy.
It was now July of 2009. Seven years had passed since she'd joined the Agency. One by one the facts of her life were erased, creating a whole new, blank canvas for her life. Luckily -- though not for some -- life in the Agency was tenuous, and those that knew of her Slayer existence died shortly after she joined the team. Soon no one knew anything about her. She was the most enigmatic member of the Agency. That, coupled with her Slayer strength and ingenuity, enabled her to climb through the ranks easily. She was envied in her positions, but that didn't bother her. Seniority was not what got you ahead in the Agency. To be in the Elite, you had to be the best. And Anne Summers was known to be the best.
The coldly beautiful woman now halted on the street corner, ever aware of everything that went on around her. She might seem aloof, but her ability to observe even the most minute discrepancy in her surroundings had saved her life numerous times. Anne slipped the card from her purse and checked the number, making sure it matched that of the building. But of course it did. Anne Summers didn't make mistakes. She looked at the building. It was a modern high-rise, seventy-five stories high, with black marble and chrome decor. Quite sterile, yet nothing she hadn't expected. Sunlight glinted off of the building's reflective exterior as she walked inside. The doorman bowed as he gestured to her to enter and his gaze subtly roamed over her backside as she moved passed him. As soon as she immersed herself in the cold, technological world of the building, her Slayer sense went haywire. Oh yes. This was the right place.
She stepped onto the elevator with a confident air. She was surrounded by the bloodsucking creatures, but it didn't bother her. This was a safe house for them and she wasn't going to intrude. Not yet, anyway. She had other business at the moment.
She stepped off of the elevator on the seventy-fifth floor. A security desk was directly in front of her and she flashed her badge at the guard quickly. At a nod from the tall, muscular man she walked to the double glass doors leading into the open lobby. A very faint tremor passed through her as she neared the receptionist's desk, but she tucked it away. Over the years she'd become a hard woman, untouched by emotion. This little foray into the past wasn't going to undo all of her hard work.
Anne stepped up to the counter and flashed her badge again. "I'm looking for Doyle," she stated in an even, dispassionate voice.
The young girl turned towards the stranger and stared. The woman was so stunning that she couldn't process the request. She mentally kicked herself for being so stupid. It was only her second day of work; she didn't want to get fired.
Anne watched the girl with a small sense of sympathy. "Doyle," she repeated calmly.
"Oh! Yes! Mr. Doyle. Ummm, he's in a meeting right now. Would you care to -" she stopped when the woman turned from her and made her way down the hall towards the three private offices. "Miss! Miss, you can't go in there!" Fear passed through her as she stumbled after the woman. She moved so quickly; it was very hard to keep up with her. In fact, she found out she was too late when she saw the woman knocking on her boss' door.
Anne hesitated. She really didn't want to intrude. It could be dangerous. But she reached out with her senses and detected two heartbeats. She prayed momentarily that is wasn't the female and opened the door without being invited in.
Doyle looked up as his office door swung open. The light from his wall of windows overlooking LA bathed the woman in a bright light as she stepped inside. He could see the secretary -- Caroline -- hovering just outside the door, fear written all over her features. Doyle stood up from behind his desk.
"'Sall right, Caroline. Ye may go back to yer post," he told her in his softly lilting brogue.
The girl nodded and scurried off, none too soon as Anne shut the door behind her. Doyle took in the woman's appearance -- how aloof and yet tantalizing she was -- and nodded.
"You're an -"
Anne held up her hand to stop his commentary. "Please, Mr. Doyle. It would be better for both of us if you would remain silent." She stepped forward and set her briefcase on the desk. With a snap of her wrists, it popped open revealing a large brown envelope nestled on top of her laptop computer. She set the envelope on the desk and closed her briefcase. "I believe what you seek is in there. If you need more, we'll know. Don't try to contact us. You won't be able to." Her gaze swung around as she detected once again that extra heartbeat.
A small black haired girl was seated on the plush black leather sofa against the wall. She could only have been about five. Anne sent a disapproving glance to Doyle that was effective even behind the shades.
Doyle shrunk back. "Sh-she's my partner's daughter." He grinned indulgently. "Da light o' his verra life, I tell ya."
If it was possible, Anne turned even colder at his words. "Oh really?"
Doyle nodded. "Yes. She's here because he and my other partner, Ms. Chase, are workin' in da library today. I remembered da...ya...well. I tried to get them outta da office, but downstairs was as far as they'd go."
"And you trust this girl not to tell her father about your business dealings?"
"She's only five -- " he began.
Anne shrugged in dismissal. "It's not my life that hangs in the balance. The invitations are in the envelope." She hesitated for a moment before adding, "Bring both of your partners." With that she turned and walked out of the office.
Doyle looked at his "niece". "Well, wasna she jus' peachy?"
The little girl giggled.
"Now, you're not gonna be goin' ta tell yer Da', are ya, angel?"
The girl's bright blue eyes twinkled as she shook her head. "No. Not if you buy me an ice cream."
Doyle laughed, the sound rich and full. "You take after yer father much too much, angel."
The little girl nodded with a big grin. "Everybody tells me that. I like it, 'cause he's so strong and pretty. He's perfect an' he's my daddy."
Doyle smiled. "Yes, Myrna, that's yer Da' all right."
"So," Myrna said. "Can we go get ice cream now?" Just like her father, once she'd decided on something she stuck to it.
Doyle tucked the envelope into his desk and picked her up. "Sure. We'll go right now. But remember, ya mustn't tell him anyting about tha' woman, ok?"
She wrapped her arms around his neck and smacked a loud kiss on his cheek. "Yes, Uncle Doyle. I think I want Ben & Jerry's. That's Daddy's favorite. And I wanna be just like him."
***
Anne listened in the doorway for a while before leaving the building. Her mind had shut down upon learning that he had a daughter. Fury rose in her, but she squelched it down. Emotions had no place in her life. She quickly exited the building by way of the stairs, careful to choose that back route so that if anyone was questioned about her they would be unable to identify exactly when she'd left or where she'd been.
The sun was setting when she stepped into the alley behind the building. There was an energy inside of the place that fairly thrummed with anticipation. It would be night soon. Time for all the worker bees to swarm the streets, searching for their prey. If she made it to her apartment in time, she could log in with the Agency and submit her report before changing and enjoying a night of slayage. Anne didn't usually go longer than three nights without patrolling whatever area she was in, but she didn't make it her duty to be a Slayer. It was no longer in her job description. However, if she happened to have a night off she was always open to kicking a little undead ass. It kept her fit and served as a great way to release stress. Stress that was usually caused by pieces of her past coming back into her life.
Her apartment building was only a few blocks away. It was a swanky place, not that she minded. She'd become accustomed to living "in style". The fact that her every whim was catered to by the Agency didn't hurt. She rode the elevator up to her penthouse apartment. It was restricted under her instruction. One could only reach the penthouse by way of a code access number entered into the elevator's computer program. She changed the number every morning, just for safety's sake. When the doors opened into her large apartment, Anne stepped out and switched on the lights. The decor was classic at first glance -- tapestries hung on the walls, oriental rugs covered portions of the shining black marble floor, Grecian pillars sectioned off the living area. A spiral staircase wound it's way to an open balcony that overlooked the living area and led out to her terrace. There were three spare bedroom upstairs also, but Anne preferred to sleep downstairs as a way to make sure she would be aware of any intruders. The furniture downstairs consisted of many plush white leather pieces and a few exquisite mahogany carved end tables. Chandeliers graced the high ceilings and provided her light. But despite the rich surroundings, her time was not spent in the outer most part of the apartment.
She made her way down the columned hallway towards the kitchen. It was done completely in stainless steel to give off as much of a cold and sterile feeling as possible. She opened the fridge and took out a bottle of water before turning, without even bothering to eat anything. There was a hidden door in the wall of the kitchen that would have been unnoticeable to even the most observant visitor. She punched in another code on her microwave's panel and the door slid open soundlessly. Before stepping inside she had to complete a retinal scan. Upon acceptance, the door to her inner sanctum unlocked and she walked inside, letting the doors close and lock behind her. The lights came on as soon as her feet touched the floor and she stepped up to her chair.
"Welcome," the wall unit computer system said as she sat down.
"Mmmm, and welcome to you too," she murmured as she took a sip of water. She watched the computer log into the Agency's main frame and turned her attention to the ten screens on each side of the large monitor. Each screen held a different picture. Anne had planted an estimated hundred cameras in the various places she'd been and/or was investigating. With the push of a button she could quickly search for the sight she wanted and within seconds a clear view of the goings on could be seen and heard. She called up the picture of Doyle's office and turned on the volume. It seemed as if no one was in at the moment, so she rewound until she watched herself leave the office. With a quiet interest she watched the discussion between Doyle and the young girl -- Myrna was her name. The two left the office and she fast forwarded until she saw a slight movement in the darkened room. Her attention caught, she turned up the volume again.
"Doyle?" a man's voice called out. "Myrna? Where are you two?"
Anne pulled out her little joystick that served as a remote control for the camera. As she turned its aim, she caught her breath. The figure was still so familiar to her barren heart. He hadn't changed, though he wouldn't have. His hair was still short and his frame was still large and fit. She almost smiled at the sight of the familiar leather jacket, but stopped herself just in time. Anne watched as he looked around the office, obviously searching for some kind of notice of where his partner and daughter had run to.
Her heart started beating double time when she saw him reach for the desk drawer. Shit! No, no, no, no, no! her mind chanted. Little thrills of apprehension traveled up her spine. He couldn't find the envelope.
Angel opened his partner's desk drawer. Sometimes Doyle left little notes in there to him when he didn't want anyone to see them. There was no note; however, there *was* a large brown envelope stuffed into the cramped space. It never even crossed his mind that it might be personal, so he withdrew the thick package and sat down at the desk. He opened it and three smaller, more formal, envelopes fell out. Just as he was about to make a closer inspection, Doyle and Myrna waltzed in.
"Hey! Wha' are ya -" Doyle stopped dead in his tracks as he saw his partner examining the envelope he'd had delivered earlier. "Oh, uhhh, no. Donnae look a' that."
Angel glanced up, a suspicious look on his face. But he lost interest in the papers when he saw his beautiful little daughter hurtling at him at warp speed. He laughed as she catapulted herself onto his lap, and he wrapped his strong arms around her.
"Well, you little minx, what have you been up to?" He smiled and kissed her nose.
Myrna curled up against him. "Uncle Doyle took me to go get ice cream and then we went to see a movie."
Angel smiled indulgently. "Did you now? Didn't I tell you not to distract Uncle Doyle from his work?"
His daughter's little brows bunched up as she tried to sort out if she'd done something wrong. "But, Uncle Doyle promised we would. He said if I didn't tell -"
"Oh, oh, oh, oh," Doyle interrupted quickly. "Have ya seen Little Miss Chase around? I needed ta debrief her."
"Debrief her indeed," Angel said, his tone dry.
Doyle coughed. "Ya know wha' I mean, man. Did she take her early leave like usual?" He stepped forward and picked up the envelope along with its strewn contents.
Angel nodded as he easily lifted his exhausted child into his arms and stood up. "Yes. I sent her to get some info from the shop where the last attack happened. She all but jumped on the idea. Rodeo Drive," he stated as an answer and sighed.
"By the way," Doyle stopped him and held out one of the fancy, embossed invitations. "You, me and da doll, this Friday night. I need ta do a little investigatin' into this Secret Society mumbo jumbo and I hear dis is the place to be. Wear a tux."
"Do you know how hard it'll be to find a sitter so late?" Angel started in protest.
"Believe me. 'Tis a place you'll wanna be. This goes so much deeper than you can imagine, but I canna give ya more details. Please, just trust me on this one." He frowned at the thought that he'd said too much already. If that woman ever found out he'd opened his mouth to his partner, she'd kill him. He was half demon, but her type scared the bejeesus out of him.
Angel considered the request as he turned the envelope over in his hand. "Fine. Besides, I never turn down a chance to out dress you." He grinned and made his way to the door. "I'm out of here for now. I need to take this little minx," he nodded to the sleeping child in his arms, "home and put her to bed. Kate will probably be there by now and she can watch over her while I go out and patrol."
Doyle nodded. "See ya tomorrow, boss."
Anne watched as Angel carried his daughter out of his partner's office. Kate. That could be the child's mother. Were they married? Could Angel have children? She hadn't thought so. Did it matter? No. She turned from the screen and logged into the Agency's base. She quickly uploaded her account of Doyle's business and signed off.
There was a small closet in the back of the room and she walked over to it, stripping as she made her way. Off came the heels, the silk stockings, the skirt and the jacket. She opened the closet door and was caught by her reflection in the mirror. Her back straightened and her hands roamed over her flat, firm stomach as she turned right and left. Not too bad, she thought. Though she was twenty-seven, her breasts were still full and pert with no signs of sagging. That was good. She turned more to the side and saw that her butt was still small and curved. And why shouldn't it be? She kept herself in top condition. She had to admit she hadn't changed much in nine years. Her body was still that of an eighteen year old's. Another thought ran through her mind and she smiled. With a toss of her head at how absurd she was being, she reached into the small area and withdrew a black tank top and a pair of black leather pants. Nothing like slaying in style. She loosened her hair from it's French twist and pulled it up into a simple pony tail. The watch and the jewelry came off, but the shades remained. They always remained. If you couldn't see your opponent's eyes, you couldn't gauge their next move. When she was finished dressing, she stuck a few stakes in strategic places and picked up her old slaying bag.
Without a backwards glance she walked out of her apartment and went to seek out some of the nasty creatures of the night.
***
He stalked the night in an attempt to protect the innocent. It was his job. It had been his job for twelve years now. But he'd only been paid to do it for the last nine. He'd made a lucrative business of it too, with Doyle and Cordelia's help. They now owned a large detective company based in Los Angeles's most established underground safehouse. Not that it was underground. It was merely a place that was used as "home base" for many of the most influential and powerful -- if not downright evil -- vampires and demons in the world. Angel had come up with the idea seven years earlier, and his creation had quickly flourished. It was an easy way for him to make contacts and keep his eye on beings that might otherwise become a problem. In effect he'd become a Master vampire, in a completely new sense of the word -- but the title held the same power, if not more.
The innocent meant more to him now, somehow. Perhaps it was because he was blessed to have a small, *innocent* daughter who thought he was the be-all, end-all of her world. Having someone look up to him so much caused Angel to examine his life in a much more direct manner. He found himself making all sorts of changes in his life, and not just those in accommodation for a family. His family. Angel hadn't known what it would be like to have a family to call his own. People who looked to him for support and guidance and...love. It was his salvation. His only regret was that he had not opened his eyes sooner...but then, that was all in the past.
Angel paused as he hovered in the shadows. Across the street, another prostitute risked her life by stepping into a nameless john's car. Two men fought drunkenly on the street corner, and Angel knew that by the end of the night, one of them would be dead. Children roamed the alleyways in search of a meaning that would never shed its light on them. An old woman approached him, beseeching a free hit. It was nights like these that Angel marveled at how sheltered he'd become. These people were the so-called "innocents" of his time. The thought sickened him. Was he too late, then? Maybe the demons of the night hadn't taken them, but these people were stuck in a Hell that belonged only to them.
He straightened as he heard a soft scuffling sound coming from across the way. As a car passed, its headlights illuminated the oppressive darkness and he saw four figures attacking a small girl in the alley on the opposite side of the street. With his silent, predatory nature, Angel stealthily moved across the traffic ridden lanes and lost himself in the shadows once more. What he saw surprised him.
She slammed the tallest man into the wall, her hand tight around his throat, while her left leg struck out, knocking the man behind her off balance and kicking him to the ground. As she drew her leg back in she grabbed a stake from her boot and lodged it deeply in the standing vampire's heart. With a twist, she spun around and slashed at the third vampire's neck with a knife she'd gracefully extracted as she moved. In fact, every movement she made was fluid, yet calculated, he realized. She moved like a Slayer. Actually, she moved better than a Slayer. Slayers didn't live long enough to become so adept.
Having dusted two, she dropped to her knees as the fourth vampire executed a silent spin kick intended to throw her backwards. In the blink of an eye, she'd smoothly brought her hand up and imbedded the stake in her opponent's neck. Rising as she did so, the girl pulled the vampire to her and twisted it's neck one hundred and eighty degrees before withdrawing the stake and plunging it into its heart. With a grim smile she turned to the last remaining vampire who'd been watching from it's place on the cold, slimy ground. The air around her was crackling with electricity as she sauntered over to him and placed her booted foot over his chest, pressing downward.
"Wooden heels," Angel murmured to himself in appreciation of her creativity as he watched the vampire's horrified look before it was reduced to ashes.
He'd never know if that was his downfall, but before Angel could fully grasp his situation, the girl had pulled him into the alley and he was on his back, her foot a steady pressure on his chest. As he gazed up at her, a small tingling sensation spread throughout his body, starting at the base of his spine. With the dying light of the street lamp flickering behind her, he saw the glint of her golden blond hair. His whole being tensed as he took her silhouette in. She was a mass of wary expectancy, ready to pounce at the smallest provocation. He couldn't see her features in the darkness, but it wouldn't have mattered. If her gaze wasn't shuttered, it was at least hidden behind her glasses. She grasped the stake in her right hand, poised to kill him if he moved. But she stood still, the only movement of her body being the rise and fall of her chest as she stared down at him.
Angel didn't know what it was, but he was as consumed with her as she seemed to be with him. However, as quickly as she'd taken him by surprise, she was gone. He stood up and ran out to the street, searching the street for her, but she was nowhere in sight. It was as if she'd...disappeared.
***
Anne ducked into her building's lobby and tried to slow her breathing. It had been much too close of a call for her tastes. Not that she'd expected to run into Angel. Yet, if she was truthful with herself, she'd admit the thought had crossed her mind. But only briefly, and she hadn't wanted it to actually happen. Had she? It was dangerous, being near him. He could have recognized her. Or could he have? He thought she was dead, just like everyone else. Would he ever expect to see her again? No. Of course not. So she really had nothing to worry about. Well, she didn't have anything to worry about anyway. She was an Elite. Those who got in her way were terminated. End of story.
Taking a deep, calming breath, Anne strode through the foyer and headed up the elevator. Once inside her domain, she collapsed onto one of the soft sofas stared up at the ceiling.
So he had a child. Most likely married. To a woman named Kate. He'd begun a detective agency with a demon named Doyle and the ex-May Queen, Cordelia Chase. The building he ran was a safe house to those of extreme ill repute. Yet she knew he did it only to keep an eye on the creatures who would otherwise destroy the world. They trusted him. All of these things she knew. But there was much more going on here than met the eye. And she'd been trained in uncovering secrets such as these.
He'd be at the party Friday night, she reminded herself. Doyle wanted to expose the Agency. He'd been taking every precaution to delve into the Elite. The thought made her smile. He'd never be able to infiltrate the highest ranks. She'd been purposefully sent to make sure he never succeeded. And now he was involving Angel and Cordelia. How stupid was he? Oh, he knew who she was. Anne knew he did. Knew he feared her. He probably didn't even know why her presence, and that of those like her, affected him in such a way. Anne lifted her legs and unzipped her boots, pushing them off and letting them fall to the floor in a heap. She'd been patrolling for five hours when she'd stumbled upon the idiot vampires. Now it was almost sunrise and she was exhausted. Mentally calculating the hours of sleep she'd had in the past week, Anne decided to spend the day sleeping. That way, she would rise in the evening, do a little slaying, come back home and prepare for the party. She was scheduled to arrive at the Craven Mansion at five o'clock sharp, Friday evening. Curling up on the small sofa, Anne shut her eyes and released herself to the numbing oblivion.
***
"Hi," she whispered softly, Myrna curled up in her lap, snoring lightly.
Angel smiled as he looked down at his daughter. "Couldn't sleep?"
Kate shook her head. "Nope. Kept wanting to know when her Daddy would be home."
Angel pretended not to hear the steely core beneath her dulcet tones. "I'm here now, aren't I?" he asked as he scooped the little girl up into his arms. She moaned softly and turned into him, her small arms wrapping around his neck in an unconscious welcome.
"Angel. You promised her you would read her her bedtime story. This is the third night in a row you've broken that promise."
"Don't," he warned. "Don't start right now, Kate."
"How can I not start? You know -"
Angel tucked his daughter into bed and glanced up at Kate, his deceptively calm voice cutting her off. "I don't need you reminding me how awful of a Father I am, Kate. You think I like breaking her heart? I can't help this, Kate. I have to go out there; I have no choice. Every minute that I'm not out there, another person could die."
"They're dying despite your efforts, Angel."
Angel nodded tersely. "Then I guess I should just stop it altogether, right? No use saving anyone, if I can't save everyone?"
Kate looked away guiltily.
He ran his fingers through his hair and led them out into the hallway. "Listen to me, Kate. One of these days, that may be Myrna out there. Do you think I can stand the thought of her being hurt in any way? I've got to stop as many of those monsters as I can.... I. Don't. Have. A. Choice."
She looked up to Angel. "I don't want her hurt, either. But dammit, Angel. When we entered into this relationship, you knew the circumstances. You took me in, and for that I'll be forever grateful. But if you can't handle this...tell me now, and Myrna and I will leave. Tell me, before she gets any more attached to you."
"I'm her Father," Angel said hoarsely.
Kate shook her head. "You may be her Daddy, but you're not her Father. And I know you hate me reminding you of that, but..." she took a deep breath and looked around. "If you can't take the responsibility, I understand. You were generous enough to be there for me when nobody else would. And you insisted we live together, for my protection and my child's. And I can't thank you enough. But I meant it when I said I don't want her hurt. And that includes by you, Angel."
Angel stared down at her, a nerve in his jaw ticking. "Is this what this is really about? You're afraid I'm going to hurt Myrna? I would die before I ever hurt her, and you know that. So all I can think is that this isn't about her at all. It's about you."
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"Oh, I think you do. You keep bringing up our agreement, Kate. Well, what about your part? I made it perfectly clear that I want to take care of you both. I want you in my home, in my life. But I also told you that I can't be in a true relationship. The type of relationship I'm increasingly suspecting that you want."
Kate rolled her eyes heavenward. "Angel, I distinctly remember our talk. You can't be in a relationship. You can't commit yourself to anyone, body, mind and soul. I remember."
"Doesn't mean you have to like it," he said quietly. "I know this is hard on you, Kate. I know you're not happy anymore. Not like in the beginning. And I'm sorry for that. But I can't love like that. It's not you. As much as I can commit my life to anyone, I have to you and to Myrna. And I won't let you down; that's one promise I will never break."
Kate looked up at him, tears pooling in her blue eyes. "I know. I know, Angel. You're...a good man." Angel flinched at her words. "You are," she emphasized.
He leaned down and kissed her forehead. "Go to bed. You're tired. I'll be up for a while." He turned to walk to the kitchen and paused. "By the way, I have a function to go to with Doyle and Cor on Friday. I know you have to work Friday night, but this shouldn't take too long. Maybe you should call Alissa...?"
Kate nodded and smiled tiredly, "First thing in the morning." She turned and trudged back towards their bedroom.
"Goodnight."
She lifted her hand in a halfhearted wave and shut the door behind her.
***
Angel sat in his friend's office, turning the formal invitation over and over in his hands. "So what's this about, again?"
"I've explained it to ya three times now, man. Where's yer brain?"
Angel flashed a wry smile and shrugged. "Definitely not here." He looked around the large office and sighed. "Kate and I had another argument last night," he told Doyle, subtly gauging his reaction.
"You thinkin' it might not be fair?" Doyle asked.
Angel nodded. "It's not. I can't give her what she wants. I can't love her the way she wants me to. But Myrna..." Angel smiled gently. "She's my life. She's the reason I fight -- to make the world a little bit safer for her." He paused and look down at the invitation unseeingly. "After Buffy..." he whispered haltingly. "After Buffy...died, I didn't know what I was fighting for anymore. I left her, hoping she'd have the life she deserved." Angel looked up to Doyle, his gaze beseeching the half-demon for an understanding and forgiveness that Doyle could not give. No matter how much his friend understood, the only person who could ease his troubled soul was long since dead. "And all for what? To let her die anonymously in the night? I keep thinking, if I'd been there.... If I'd been there, she wouldn't have died. I could have protected her." Guilt shone from the very depths of his dark eyes. "I dream. I wonder what she looked like when she died. Did she put up a strong fight? Did she end it passively? What was she wearing? What were her last words? Did...did she still love me? And I'll never know. I'll never know anything, because I wasn't there for her. I can't even avenge her death because I can find no one who knows anything about it!" Angel stood up and began pacing violently around the office. "And I can't let anything like that happen to Myrna. She's so innocent. So bright and loving. So much like Buffy's heart."
Doyle sighed deeply. "Ya canna keep doin' this to yerself. Ya canna have stopped her from dyin'. 'Twas her destiny, man."
Angel flexed his jaw and walked to the large window, looking out onto the darkened city, so bright with lights. "Was it?" he asked quietly.
"Oh, come now. She was a Slayer. She was a good Slayer. But she wasna invincible."
Angel shook his head and turned around, a perplexed look on his face as he changed the subject. "Have you heard of a Slayer being in town?"
"No. Last I heard, Niki was with Willow and Spike in Florence. Why?"
"No reason. I just.... When I was patrolling last night, I...errr...ran into a woman who knew a thing or two about vampire slaying."
Doyle grinned. "Ahhh, knocked ya offa yer feet, did she?"
Angel rolled his eyes. "Taken literally, yes." He shrugged lightly. "Was just wondering where a woman like her could pick something like that up."
"A 'woman like her'?" Doyle queried, perching on the edge of his desk. "Well," he prompted. "Aren't ya gonna tell me abou' dis vision?"
Angel was silent for a moment, contemplating the question. "I don't know. There was...just something about her. Something very familiar. She..." he shook his head. "I couldn't see her; the light was to her back. And, admittedly, I wasn't in the best position at the time. But...she was...there was just.... I knew her. Yet I didn't." He laughed nervously. "This may sound weird, but I've never felt anyone quite so cold as she. It wasn't her flesh; I didn't even touch her. It was her -"
"Demeanor? Like an icy wind jus' blowin' o'er yer body?" At Angel's shocked look, Doyle nodded. "Yea, man. I know what ya mean. No' many like them. No' in this world, anyway."
"What do you mean?" Angel asked suspiciously.
"N-nothing. So, have you told Delia she has ta work Friday night?"
"'Scuse me? I don't think I heard that correctly," Cordelia said as she breezed into the office, smiling when Doyle jumped.
"Don't worry," Angel assured her as he passed her his own invitation. "I'm sure you'll find the time to attend. I'm also sure you'll insist on taking the day off tomorrow to go shopping."
Her eyes lit up as she scanned the invite. "How classy is this?" she gushed. It wasn't often she got to partake of the "swank" Angel's "crowd" moved in. "And I'll definitely be needing the day off tomorrow. Hair, nails, dress...." She slapped Doyle on the arm. "How could you two keep this from me? Do you have any idea how busy I'm going to be now?"
"Yer jus' so cute when yer chaotic, Delia," Doyle told her with a roguish grin.
She frowned at him. "And now many times have I told you my name is not 'Delia'? That's just so common. Gives me the shivers. Well boys, you two play nice. I'm going to go call around and see if Laney can fit me in tomorrow. Ugh," she sighed as she turned around. "I swear. Know nothing about women. By the way, the notes on the Landon case are typed up and on your desk, Angel."
"You're so efficient, Dee. It only took you a week." She glared at him over her shoulder and stalked out of the office. Angel laughed.
"Ya willna be comin' inta the office tomorrow, will ya?"
Angel shook his head. "No. I'll head straight over to the Craven Mansion. I thought I'd pick up Cordelia and meet you there. That way, you can see your contact and Cordy and I can do a little snooping of our own."
Doyle nodded in agreement. "Sounds fair."
"Yeah, well. I'm out for patrol now. Wish me luck. Wouldn't wanna run into that girl again. She might not hesitate to stake me this time." With a chuckle, Angel slipped into his jacket and walked out of the office.
Doyle sat down at his desk and mulled over what Angel had revealed to him. This "girl" could only have been one person. The same woman who'd visited him yesterday. Their type didn't roam around much and it was rare to find more than one in a setting. Of course, he didn't know exactly what it was about her. About them. But he did know they could put the fear of God into the worst demon -- with ease. They were like Slayers, but more. Their war didn't stop at the supernatural. If he could just get into their Elite, he'd be able to understand more. What their goals were, their purpose. He didn't like their secrecy, not one bit. And he intended to put an end to it. Their power was almost limitless, and he knew for a fact that the members of the legendary Elite were known to go bad, wreaking havoc at their own will. And still, they answered to no one.
With Angel and Cordelia at his side, Doyle knew he'd be able to usurp their reign. It was only time before all the secrets came tumbling out.
***
"That's not what I told you to do," Anne said calmly. She stood on the upstairs terrace at the Craven Mansion and overlooked the decorators and caterers setting up in the garden. "I told you to set up a camera in every room. Not in every other room. Not one on each floor. I want one in every room. No matter how small. And make sure they each have three hundred and sixty degree rotational abilities. I want to be able to watch Craven's Auntie Mame take a piss if it seems even remotely important. Now go."
The security team scurried off to do her bidding and she turned back to watch the progress.
"I hear you want to tear down the wall between the dining room and the kitchen, just so you can set up your equipment," Darien Craven teased as he walked up behind her.
"If I wanted to tear down a wall, it'd be gone by now, Mr. Craven," Anne told him without inflection.
Darien cleared his throat. "Yes. Well. I understand you've got everything under control? There's no way this man you're investigating will...learn anything of use, is there?"
Anne turned to him, her eyes regarding him coolly behind her shades. "I don't make mistakes, Mr. Craven."
"Oh, uhhh...of course you don't. That's not what I meant to imply -"
"Please, I have no time for your implications. If Doyle finds out anything tonight, it will be that all doors are closed to him. He'll spend so much time running around that it'll be months before he realizes he's chasing his own ass."
Darien nodded, finally sobering to his own hard demeanor. "I trust your judgment, Agent Summers. And I trust that you'll do everything in your power to make sure this night runs smoothly. If not...."
"Are you threatening me?"
Darien shrugged. "It matters not. But I will hold you responsible if things do not go according to plan. And we both know the ramifications that failure brings."
"I'd be careful with your words, Mr. Craven. I don't take kindly to orders. Let me put you at ease. If Doyle gets close enough to feel the heat, I will personally put an end to it." She turned back to the garden and watched her own secret team merge with the workers below. "Permanently."
***
"Have I ever told you how much I love you?" Cordelia asked as she sat in the back of their plush limo. Her fingers trailed over the supple black interior and she grinned.
"Only every time I let you use my credit cards," Angel murmured wryly. "You look nice," he complemented her. She was the picture of elegance in a champagne coloured ballgown. The bodice had a very low decolletage, was trimmed in tiny hand sewn pearls and was boned, showing off her trim torso. It ended in a "V" over the full skirt that continued the intricate beadwork in a soft pattern of roses and scrolls. She reminded him of soft candlelight.
"Only nice?" Cordelia feigned hurt.
Angel grinned. "You look beautiful and you know it."
Cordelia bit her lip. "You think Doyle will like it? I mean, not that it matters. But it is his friend's party. I wouldn't want to...you know...."
His laughter drowned the rest of her statement out. "Yeah. Sure. He'll love it on you." He rolled his eyes and muttered lowly, "And he'd love it even more off of you."
"What was that?"
"Nothing."
"You look nice too. Very spiffy. You clean up well. It must be nice to know that you'll actually fit in with everybody else tonight," she said, referring to his penchant of wearing black. Her eyes roamed over his large form, carefully critiquing his outfit. She'd taken the liberty of buying him his own tux while she was out, choosing a Hugo Boss, single breasted, black with a black silk vest and diamond and onyx studs. The white of his shirt was pristine against the solid, inky black of his tux. He looked dangerously sexy, and if it hadn't been for her underlying affection for Doyle, she might have tried her hand at him. He was gorgeous. Not for the first time, Cordelia saw what Buffy had seen in him.
"Thank you."
"Was Kate upset when you left?"
"Hmmm? What do you mean?"
Cordelia shrugged daintily and looked at him. "I figured she'd be pissed that you were getting to go out without her. If you hadn't noticed, girlfriend is a little possessive."
Angel shook his head. "No, she had to work tonight. Alissa's baby-sitting. Besides, I told her I wouldn't be out long."
"And she believed that?"
"I meant it, Cordy," he told her admonishingly.
"Angel, you just don't get it, do you? You're a nice enough guy. A little long in the tooth, but hey...understandable. I'm sure you WANT to be there for her. You MEAN to be there for her. But...you just can't help staying away. It's like, your subconscious knows she's not the one for you. But she's sooo...needy and desperate and...skanky -"
"Cordelia!"
"I know. I know. You've committed your entire long life to her for as long as she lives. Yeah, don't you ever feel guilty about that, Angel?" Her eyes widened at the hurt look in his dark gaze. "Oh, Angel. I didn't mean it that way. We knew why you couldn't...couldn't stay with Buffy. That's not what I meant. I didn't mean to imply you were betraying her...."
"I'm not, Cordelia. Buffy is the only woman I've ever loved. Will ever love. But Kate needs me. And so does Myrna. And I'm not going to let them down. Myrna needs a father. I'm willing to be that. I love her as if she were my own."
"And I suppose you'd just take in any stray off the streets? Wait, don't answer that. You would."
The limo stopped and Angel took a deep breath. "We're here," he told her unnecessarily. The chauffeur opened the door and Angel stepped out, holding his hand out for Cordelia. "My lady?" he entreated her teasingly.
"Much obliged, my lord," she replied coquettishly. They turned to the large home and stared up at the massive mansion alight with the glow of the party.
"Ooohhh..." Cordelia sighed appreciatively.
"Here goes nothing," Angel muttered as they strolled up the walkway.
***
"...Target has been spotted. He's entering the garden by way of the left side entrance. Subject is wearing..."
Anne turned down the volume on her earpiece and strolled along the balcony, her gaze watching the party below. The garden was lit with numerous strands of white twinkle lights, lending a romantic aura to the expansive gardens. Guests were pooling around the food, mingling, dancing, and making contacts. All in all, it seemed to be a successful event. And it was still early. Her hands rested lightly on the stone railing as she watched Doyle maneuver his way through the crowds. He wasn't exactly a man who stood out above all other men, but she was looking for him, and with her observational skill, he was easy to spot. She admitted grudgingly that there was a slightly debonair feel about the half-demon. She was almost sorry that she was the one who had to ultimately undermine his investigation. In another life, perhaps she would have been working with him, instead of against him.
Anne turned from the sight and looked into the ballroom from the large, arched glass windows behind her. The chandeliers sparkled gaily, drowning the large room in their bright candlelight. The orchestra was set up in the far corner of the room and men and women glided across the dance floor with easy grace. It was almost hard to believe such sinister roots lie at the bottom of such beauty. She walked to the top of the steps the led down into the garden and looked around once more. Doyle was chatting with a pretty woman, though Anne could tell he was on his guard.
"Sam, in ten minutes I want you to interrupt Mr. Doyle and lead him to my office. Ten minutes. No more, no less," she said quietly.
"Yes, ma'am."
She nodded imperceptibly to the security officer disguised as a doorman and slipped inside of the mansion. Another man, an actual servant, held his arm out for her as he led her down the elaborate staircase into the ballroom. Anne smiled at him and turned, her gaze wandering around the room. She exchanged pleasantries with the guests as she sauntered out of the room and left unnoticed through the servant's door. Using the back stairs, she proceeded to the small third floor library which was doubling as her office for the time being. She entered the room quietly and turned on the lights, checking to make sure everything was in place. She sat down behind the desk with only moments to spare before Doyle walked in.
"Good evening," she murmured as he sat down across from her.
Doyle nodded and unbuttoned his tuxedo jacket as he sat, his gaze caught by how beautiful she was when not hiding behind some sort of shield. Her eyes were a subtle blue-green mix set off by the hue of her dress. But something was different. Her hair. Her hair was piled atop of her head in an artful array of curls that was both wanton and innocent. But it was the color that attracted his attention. Gone were the smooth blond locks, to be replaced with a deep, rich chestnut color whose natural gold and copper highlights glinted in the dim light. The darkness suited her, he thought silently. Added to her cold air.
Anne leaned forward and rested her elbows on the desk, quite aware of his inspection. "Are you quite finished?" she asked quietly.
"Oh, of course. Must have forgotten my manners. Ya look quite a beauty, Miss...?"
Anne smiled slightly and leaned back. "Why don't you tell me what you came here to find, Mr. Doyle?"
Doyle acknowledged her resistance and looked at her. "Why don't ya tell me what I came here ta look fer? Ya seem ta know so much abou' me otherwise. An' the name's Doyle."
"Well, Doyle. I'm afraid I must inform you that you're not going to find what you're looking for. We both know why."
"I will. I'm here, ain't I? Why would ya help me, get me here, if 'twas all fer nothing?"
"It was agreed that you should be here, Doyle." Anne stood up and motioned for him to join her at the large window that looked down on the garden. "See those people out there? Every one of them has a stake in this game. They look so innocent, don't they? But they're not. Any one of them would gladly kill you. Any one of them would gladly stick the knife into their partner's back. It's not you, Doyle. But you were meant to see this. There is no way in Hell that you're going to infiltrate the ranks."
"An' what about you, lass? Would ya kill me if ya had the chance?"
Anne gazed out of the window. "I do have the chance, Doyle. I'll always have the chance. You'll do good to remember that. See, the difference between those people down there and me...is that I have no real stake in this game. Whichever way it goes..." she shrugged, "doesn't really matter to me. I'm in this for me and no one else. I'm the best at what I do, Doyle. I don't make mistakes. I don't regret my choices." She turned to him and walked towards the hall. "However, if you expect me to stand by and watch just because you decide to play with my Agency, you're in for the surprise of your life. The minute you get too close, you're dead. And I'll make sure of that personally." Closing the door behind her, she left him to his own devices in Craven's library.
Doyle looked down on the party, his eyes absently searching for his partners. He raised a hand and slid it inside the pocket of his tuxedo jacket. Slipping out the paper, he looked down:
You have five minutes. The security team makes a sweep every fifteen. Use it well.
Doyle strode to the desk and began his hasty search.
Anne merged with the party guests and walked over to the bar, her throat parched. "Champagne," she said.
"Yes, Madame." The tall bartender poured the bubbly liquid into an ornate crystal flute and handed it to her. "Would the Madame care for anything else?" he asked.
She took a small sip and smiled at him. "It's a splendid party, isn't it?"
"Yes, Madame."
Anne nodded and looked around, her suspicious nature taking hold of her despite the fact that she'd accomplished what she'd come to do. "Do you know if Mr. Craven has a library?"
"I hear he has one of the finest, though there are small ones on each floor."
She nodded. "I wonder if he has 'Veiled Lady and the Third Floor Flat'," she murmured before chuckling. "Never mind. Craven doesn't seem to be the type to enjoy a good Agatha Christie novel."
"No, Madame, he doesn't," the bartender said.
"Well, I should be going. I do so hope someone brought a camera. It would be such a waste if none of this was caught."
"I agree, Madame."
Anne nodded to the bartender and strolled out into the gardens.
Seeing that the traffic at the bar had ceased for a moment, the bartender turned and pressed the small button on the side of his cufflink. "Summers wants the camera in the third floor library sent directly to her after the party. Repeat, no interference. Directly to Agent Summers." It took no longer than ten seconds for him to send the message out to his fellow teammates who worked for Anne, and Anne alone. They would disconnect the camera before Craven's innocuous security team was able to blink. All the while pretending to straighten his shirt, the agent turned back to the counter and smiled, again in the role of bartender. "May I get something for the Madame?"
***
"Are we having fun, yet?" Angel asked as he leaned down to scoop up yet another glass of champagne. He'd lost count of how much alcohol he'd consumed, but felt sure that his fascination with the bubbles was a sign that he was over doing it.
Cordelia noticed too, and plucked the champagne flute from his hand. "Enough, Angel. Maybe you wanna drown in your depression, but not while I'm here. You'll make me look bad." She laid her hand on his forearm and led him onto the dance floor.
"Look! Here comes Doyle!" Angel murmured in a ludicrously loud stage whisper.
Cordelia shot him a dirty look and turned around in time to see the half-demon approach them. "Doyle. You look positively...." Taking a look at his crumpled tux and mussed hair, Cordelia scrunched up her nose. "What the hell happened to you?"
"Had ta find a small hiding place while our host's minions took a look-see in his library. Wasna the most comfortable position I've e'er been in, I can tell ya that."
Angel raised his gaze to the chandeliers high above their heads. The ceiling spun a bit as he inspected the pulsing glow of the firelight. Taking an unnecessary, yet stabilizing, breath, Angel tilted his head back down and watched the people move along the inner balcony. They were so pretty. So many colours. Bright. As he watched, his senses pricked and even the slightest tinkle of crystal became a loud roar in his ears. The noise in the ballroom was deafening and his body seemed to be on fire. Angel stumbled forward and grabbed hold of Cordelia, mindless of his friends' shocked stares. His eyes searched the crowd above until his gaze landed on one person. One dress, really. It was a dark, shimmery, sapphire blue that seemed full of silver sparkles when the light hit it just right. It clung to the woman's every curve, rather resembling one long tube top that stretched over her body, her full breasts, her tiny waist, her slender legs, and flared out gracefully at her feet. He couldn't see her face, but he knew that body. Knew the way she moved. Angel's grip tightened on Cordy's arm and she flinched, punching him ineffectively in the arm.
"That's her," he whispered reverently.
"Her who, you big oaf? Let me go," Cordelia mumbled as she tried to struggled against him inconspicuously. Without warning, he let her go and Cordelia fell backwards into Doyle's arms.
"That's the woman from the other night," he said, turning to Doyle. "I've got to go find her. There's something strangely familiar about her."
Doyle opened his mouth to warn Angel about the woman, but his friend was already gone. Cordelia shivered lightly at the feel of his arms around her, but pushed away from him, pretending to straighten her immaculate hair. Doyle looked at her, taking in her appearance. Boy, was she a stunner. And the glazed look in her eyes, the flush in her cheeks, the rise and fall of her chest beneath the constraining bodice of her gown...all merely added to the tempting little picture she presented. He held out his hand, a twinkle in his blue eyes. "Wanna dance?"
***
Anne stood in Craven's private gallery, her back to the door as she studied a small painting. She'd seen the place, off limits as it was, as a safe haven from those who would wish her harm. Those prying eyes that never ceased. And yet, she was instantly aware the moment her sanctuary became her prison.
Angel silently shut the door behind himself and let his gaze wander over the back of her. He'd been wrong. Her hair was not blond, but a dark chestnut that flamed with copper and gold. Had he made a mistake then? He could have sworn she had blond hair. But no. There was no mistaking the feeling she inspired in him. He was like a moth to her flame. She enticed and repulsed him at the same time. She was both perfect and...unnatural. She didn't belong. Not that he was one to talk.
Here in this room, after so many years, Anne was a bundle of nerves. The unflappable, aloof, dispassionate Anne Summers was on the verge of breaking. And she did not like that feeling one bit. It made her feel caged in. Vulnerable. Escape was necessary.
"I'm sorry. This room is closed to the public," she informed him quietly.
"I'm not just any public," he replied smoothly.
Anne crossed her arms over her chest, her fingers absently rubbing over the bare skin of her shoulders. "Mr. Craven would be displeased to find you here."
"And you get the special privileges because...?" His gaze followed the movement of her fingers intently, almost able to feel the warm, satiny skin.
"Because I'm special?"
"I'd think you'd be more polite to a man you almost killed two nights ago," he smiled as he teased.
Anne didn't bother denying it. She just wanted to get out. "Is that what you are? A man?"
Angel tensed at her words. "Yes."
"How very...normal...of you," she remarked with no small trace of bitterness. She bit her lower lip gently and turned her head slightly to the side. "Look. You're not supposed to be here. Why don't you just leave?"
Angel chuckled at her lack of subtlety. "Not without finding out a little more about the woman who swept me off of my feet." He regarded her small frame for a moment, that tingling sensation returning as he caught the barest glimpse of her profile. "You're pretty young, aren't you?" he asked suspiciously.
"Older than I look," she muttered.
"Know the feeling." He took a step forward and noticed how she seemed to turn into herself, as if shying away from his presence. "I'm not going to hurt you," Angel told her gently. "What's your name?"
"Anne," she told him, kicking herself mentally the entire time.
"That's a pretty name."
"It's a common name."
"Why do I think you like it that way?"
"Probably because I do," she said.
"Well, Anne, I think there's only one thing left to do -"
"Leave?"
Angel laughed. "Not quite. I'd like to see this girl who knows so much and reveals so little."
"Oh, I think you might regret those words," she murmured, her fingers twisting at the stake in her hands. Those who got in her way were terminated. End of story. She couldn't let herself become distracted and weak. He would kill everything she had become.
"Somehow, I can't believe that's true." Angel reached out his hand and rested it lightly on her shoulder. Her skin was as smooth as silk, and just as warm as he'd imagined it. And at the mere touch of his skin against hers, a gut-wrenching realization took hold. It started as an icy fire in the pit of his stomach and worked its way up slowly, fighting his own denial. "No," he whispered harshly.
Anne stared straight ahead, his obvious torment tearing rents into her frozen heart. She closed her eyes to the pain and took a deep, decisive breath. "Yes," she said as she turned to fully face him. She clasped her hands behind her back as she stared up at him emotionlessly while he let his gaze roam over her.
"Buffy?" he queried dubiously, as if afraid to believe it was her. She was the same as he'd ever remembered her. Beyond compare. Beautiful, without a doubt. Her lips were glossy and full, parted slightly in a forbidden, forgotten invitation. Her nose was small and pert, sloping gently at the end. But her eyes, her wide, stunning, transient eyes...they told of the change within. Whereas he'd always seen the warmth and love brimming inside her heart, they were now cold and empty, a beautiful crystalline blue. Those eyes now flickered with an emotion undetermined, and Angel vaguely heard her speak to him.
"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. For everything...Angel," she whispered as she lifted her hand and struck him harshly. There was a surprised look on his face for a brief moment before he crumpled into a pile at her feet. The stake fell free from her other hand and she bent down, wrapping her arms around his large body as she lifted him up and dragged him to the small sofa against the far wall. Eventually Doyle and Cordelia would start searching for him. He'd be out for a while, but of course he'd sustain no major injuries. He was a vampire, after all, and she'd only knocked him out.
Gathering her things, Anne walked briskly to the door. She turned the handle and then looked back over her shoulder. He looked so peaceful. Almost as if he was sleeping. The past nine years seemed to drift away, and once more she was Buffy and he was Angel and they were soulmates.
In another lifetime. Stepping out into the hall, she closed the door behind her with a soft click and made her departure from the gala still going in full swing. There was nothing left for her there.
***
"It was HER," Angel said for the hundredth time since they'd left the party two hours earlier. The trio was situated in Angel's office where they'd gone instead of bringing him home. There was no way they were going to let him face Kate in the condition he was in.
Cordelia shot Doyle a concerned look and knelt down in front of Angel. She lifted his hands gently in her own and peered up at him. "Angel, honey," she said softly. "I know what you think you saw. But Buffy's been dead for almost ten years now."
"Was she a...a....?" Doyle started to ask.
"No," Angel said decisively. "I saw her. I saw Buffy. And no, she wasn't a vampire."
"Angel," Cordelia tried again. "Even you have to admit that you were a little...out of sorts. Maybe the lighting was bad. Maybe you just thought -"
"No. I. Know. What. I. Saw."
She sighed and stood up, resuming her pacing.
"Maybe he's tellin' the truth," Doyle said musingly. "Course, we havena a motive, a reason why Buffy would e'er do somethin' like this, but I s'pose it's possible."
"No. It's not. Buffy wouldn't do something like that. I mean. She's not one who would...abandon...everyone...in a...time...of...need.... Okay. So, there was that one time. But why? I just don't get it. Why...how...could she just let everyone think she was dead for a decade and then just come back?"
"Maybe she didn't plan to," Angel said dully.
"Didn't plan to what? Didn't plan to play dead? Didn't plan to come back?"
"Both. Either."
Cordelia spun around to face her boss, ready to chew him out, but the words died on her lips. He didn't even look like Angel anymore. His eyes, so expressive and intense, were now dull and dead, with no light of their own. His shoulders were slumped forward in defeat, so unlike the powerful vampire he'd been only hours before. He just seemed so...dead. "Look," she said softly. "We should at least figure out if this really was her. No. I know what you said you saw. I just think we owe it the same investigation we give everything. And...if she really is...Buffy...then we've got to figure out how to tell the Gang. Not to mention Giles and Joyce."
"Delia...think about that. This could rip them apart."
"That's something she should have thought of beforehand," Angel muttered.
Cordelia felt her own heart breaking as she gazed at Angel. This couldn't be happening. Angel had been one of her best friends since she'd left Sunnydale. He'd taken her in and let her work for him. He'd even saved her life more times than she could count. And through it all, it had been his love for Buffy that kept him going. After she'd died, Angel had placed her memory on the altar of his mind; his heart had become a shrine to the woman he'd loved more than life. And now that memory was being ripped away from him. Everything he'd believed in was now being doubted. It was killing him. Angel was Cordelia's strength and Buffy was his. As long as Angel was around, Cordelia felt safe. And now her safety was being threatened. Not to mention the immortal love she'd also believed in, held onto dearly. "I still think we should find the facts before we cast aspersions on her memory," she said.
Angel shrugged. It didn't matter. Nothing mattered anymore. And yet, here he was, left in confusion. Half of him wanted to jump for joy, to dance around the office and sing out loud. She was ALIVE! There was hope. She wasn't dead and there was...this part of his heart that was experiencing pure, unadulterated joy. And the other half was quickly filling with anger and a sense of betrayal. How could she do something like this? Did she have no heart? All of the pain and anguish and guilt he'd felt.... All for nothing? Her family and friends left with no one. Had they meant nothing to her? Had he meant nothing to her? So what else was there...?
"Myrna!" he gasped and stood up. "I've got to go," he said as he grabbed his jacket and stalked towards the door.
"Where do you think you're going?" Cordelia asked. "You're in no shape to drive."
"I'm fine, Cordy. I have to go home now. I promised Kate I'd be home early and it's already late. She'll be worrying. I...have to go."
Cordelia and Doyle watched as their friend and employer walked out of the office. He was like a machine.
"This isn't good. Doyle, what are we going to do? Wh-what if he really did see Buffy?" Tears pooled in her dark eyes as she looked to him helplessly. "It'll kill him," she whispered as he drew her into a comforting embrace. "It'll kill him."
***
Anne stood outside the apartment door and ran her fingers through her loose blond hair. It felt so good to be rid of that itchy wig. She raised her hand and knocked lightly, knowing who'd be answering the door.
"Hello?" the young girl said as she cracked the door open.
"Hi," Anne smiled. "Alissa, right? I'm Anne; I live right down the hall. I was just on the phone with Kate and she asked me to come tell you that she won't be home for a few more hours and that she doesn't know when Angel will be getting back. He had to go to a party tonight and all. She said she was sorry that they were both running late."
"Oh, it's no problem."
Anne nodded. "I'm sure it isn't. Myrna is just a perfect angel, is she not? Well, I brought this up to Kate, and she agreed if, it's all right with you and I'm pretty sure you have class in the morning and you probably need your sleep, but I'd be willing to keep an eye on Myrna if you wanted to go."
Alissa bit her lip, unsure of what to do. Anne smiled knowingly. "I know this must seem odd. Really. If you want to call her, it's okay with me. I just remembered Kate telling me that you had early classes, and I remember what that was like."
Alissa smiled. "I really do have to be up early. You live right down the hall?" she asked. At Anne's nod she relented. "Well, I guess it'd be okay. You look trustworthy enough." They both laughed and Alissa opened the door, letting Anne in.
"Oh. Kate also asked me to pay you, just so you don't have to wait. Plus, I'm always around, so she can pay me back more easily."
"Thanks," Alissa said sincerely. She gathered her books up and turned to the older woman. "By the way, do you know where Mr. Angel was going tonight?" Her eyes narrowed slightly, waiting for an answer.
Anne pretended not to notice. "Well, Kate told me he had a business party to attend with his partners. Down at the Craven Mansion, I hear. Sounded like a pretty swanky evening," she chuckled. "I know Kate was upset she'd be unable to attend."
Alissa nodded, satisfied. "Well, Myrna's asleep. She'll probably stay that way until her parents get home. It was nice meeting you."
Anne nodded and shut the door behind the girl. "So glad I kept that 'girl-next-door' look." She locked up and looked over the apartment. It was cozy. Very family-like. Very...normal. Oh, how she'd grown to hate that word.
She walked to the small mantle, her fingertips trailing lightly over the many frames. There were numerous photographs of a woman with blond hair. Anne assumed that would be Kate. In some, she was holding a small baby girl. There were others, more recent ones, in which the little girl was alone. Anne had to admit she was very pretty. No doubt her smile was all for her Father. Her Father.
Anne closed her eyes and turned away from the family gallery, content to continue her tour elsewhere. She walked through the rooms, her gaze wandering over every single detail. It was a home. She couldn't blame him, not really, but the sight still killed a part inside of her. A part that she'd supposed was long since dead. Funny how these things had a way of coming back to haunt you. She opened the last door a crack and peeked in. It was a very feminine room, sweet and innocent. And the little girl lying in bed only added to the heavenly picture. This was Kate's daughter. Angel's daughter. The light of his life, as Doyle had told her. Just as she turned to close the door, Anne heard the little girl speak.
"Where's 'Lissa?" she asked groggily.
Anne smiled slightly and slowly walked into the room. "She had to leave because she had an early class to go to in the morning. She needed her sleep, too."
"Who are you? Where're my Mommy and Daddy?"
"They're not home yet. I'm Anne," she said as she stepped up to the side of the bed.
"You're pretty."
Anne bit her lower lip. "So are you."
"Thank you. Do you know my Mommy and Daddy?"
Anne nodded. "I know your Daddy. He used to be a very good friend of mine. A long time ago."
Myrna's eyes widened. "Really? What was he like back then?"
Anne sat down on the edge of the bed and laughed softly. "A lot like he is now. Tall, dark, handsome. Overall, perfect."
Myrna nodded. "He is. And he loves me bunches." She giggled shyly and burrowed under her covers. "That's what he tells me."
"I'm sure he does," Anne said softly. "I can't see why he wouldn't."
"Do you have a daughter?" Myrna asked.
"No," she whispered. "I don't have any children."
"Oh. I'm sorry. Why not?"
"I don't know why not. I guess I just...I don't know."
Myrna nodded wisely.
"Why don't you go back to sleep now? I'm sure your Mommy and Daddy will be home soon. I just wanted to make sure you're okay."
"You're nice," Myrna said, patting Anne's hand. She snuggled into her bed and closed her eyes, the soft sound of little snores soon coming from her.
Anne stood up and left the room, her heart heavy as she walked into the living room. Right as the door opened.
Angel shut the door behind him and shrugged his jacket off. As he went to lay it over the back of the chair, he stopped.
They stared at each other for a long moment, the electricity between them threatening to cause some sort of fire. Then, the strength seemed to flow out of Angel's body and he collapsed onto the nearby chair, muttering, "I guess that answers that."
Anne slowly followed his lead, sitting on the sofa across from him.
"What are you doing here? How did you get in? Where's Alissa? And Kate? And...Myrna? I swear, if you hurt one -"
"C'mon, Angel. I think you know me a little bit better than that," she cut in.
"No. I don't. I thought I knew you. I did know Buffy. I don't know you. So why don't you tell me, who are you?"
"I told you," she answered him. "I'm Anne."
"Anne," he scoffed. Angel shook his head. "I don't believe any of this is happening."
"Believe it," she told him dispassionately.
"What if I don't want to?" he shot back.
"Then that's just a little too bad. And a little too late. If your friend hadn't been snooping around in my business, you wouldn't have even known I was alive."
"So this is all Doyle's fault now?"
"It's nobody's 'fault', Angel. Things are the way they are. You can't change that. If there's anything I've learned, it's that."
"Why are you here?" he asked tiredly.
"For you. Despite the years of absence, I know how your mind works. Don't fool yourself, I could have disappeared again and you would never have known the truth. And it would have driven you crazy. So here I am. It answers your question."
"I doesn't even begin to answer my questions."
"And what are they, pray tell?"
"Why?"
Anne stared at him. "Why not?"
Angel rolled his eyes and stood up. "Get out."
"But I'm serious." She watched as he paced to the mantle, his eyes never focusing on her. "Why not? Why not do what I did? What I've done? There was nothing left for me there. And so I found a way to escape. At least I have a purpose now."
"You let your friends...your family...think you were dead. For nine years now."
"That's not what upsets you," she said calmly. "What upsets you is the fact that I let you think I was dead."
"You're damn right it does," he growled. "You had a purpose. You were the Slayer."
"'Were' being the operative word in that sentence. I was a tool, Angel. Merely one in a long line of Slayers who came and saw and yet never truly conquered. No. I didn't have a purpose. You wanted me to be normal, Angel. How could I ever be normal when I had that hanging over my head?"
"And now? What are you now?"
Anne laughed hollowly. "Certainly not normal. But you know that, don't you? What am I, you ask? Well, I'll tell you. I'm the goddamn best. That's what I am."
"You turned your back on the people who cared about you."
"Well, you know all about that, don't you, Angel?"
Angel turned to look at her, a furious light in his eyes. "Excuse me? Look around, Buffy. Sorry, Anne. I live up to my responsibilities. I take care of those who need me." He turned his back on her, agony ripping through his body. He was torn between hating her and loving her and he longed to sweep her up in his arms. It was true, what they said. You could only truly hate someone you truly loved. And now...the quiet tension was overwhelming. He fought the urge to look at her.
"That's right," Anne said softly, her voice breaking the silence. "You only turned your back on me."
Angel raised his head at her bitter words, loathing the guilt that rose unbidden in him. He turned slowly towards her. "I never turned...."
But she was gone.
***
Anne sat at her computer unit and reviewed the tape over and over again, catching every subtle discrepancy. As soon as she finished editing the tape of Doyle and herself, she'd have the replacement sent over to the Mansion and left for Craven's ignorant security team to find. No harm done.
But her thoughts kept wandering back to her encounter with Angel. She was a fool if she thought it was over. Oh no, she could tell. It was only beginning. Everything she'd worked for was crumbling before her eyes. And it wasn't even his fault. She'd been the one who couldn't stay away. Though why, she was sure she didn't know.
A beep brought her attention back to the present and she saw she had a message waiting in her in box. Opening it, she saw a compressed video link from the Agency. Making sure the line was secure, she clicked it and Agent Krylich popped up on her screen.
"Agent Summers," he spoke coolly. "It has come to our attention that your presence is needed at headquarters immediately. The Elders have news to share with you that is of utmost importance. Your swift reply is appreciated."
The link closed and deleted itself from her computer. Sighing, Anne stood up. It was better this way. The sooner she was gone, the sooner she'd be able to forget that any of the past week had taken place. Logging into the airport travel base, she reserved a seat for herself on the six-thirty plane to New York City. If she left right now, she'd make it just in time. She exited the room and listened as the door locked closed behind her. She jogged upstairs and picked up the spare suitcase she kept packed at all times and headed out of her apartment. As a precaution, Anne reset the code number. Stepping out of the elevator and into a taxi, she rode towards the airport. Towards her exit. Towards the life she'd created for herself, and would not let anyone destroy.
***
The couple sat in stunned silence.
"Wow. She was in your apartment? I just can't believe her. What was her childhood trauma?"
"Well, granted she was da Slayer. Maybe it jus' all caught up wi' her."
"That's no excuse," Angel sighed. He looked horrible, even for someone who was technically dead. In fact, Cordelia and Doyle could almost swear he'd aged years overnight. Which was pretty much impossible. "Look, it's not worth thinking about. She's gone. No one knows anything about her. So...what did you find last night?" he asked, changing the subject as he turned to his partner.
"Funny t'ing, that," Doyle said. "The lass...well...she helped me. Slipped me a note on the sly like and I found she'd hidden a truckload of dish on Craven. In fact, if ya seen this mornin's headlines, you'll see he was arrested late last night after an anonymous tip." Doyle snickered, remembering the conversation he'd had with Kate. "However, I think she only did that to keep me off da bigger trail. Still got nothin' on the Agency."
"I don't get it," Angel said, sitting down behind his desk. "She was working with Craven. Why would she help you put him away?"
"Maybe she didn't," Cordelia piped up. "Maybe...she didn't know you'd find anything."
"No," Doyle said. "She's no' the type to make mistakes."
"What? She fakes her own death -- not even very well, if you ask me -- and all of a sudden she's perfect? I swear, I'll never understand you guys."
"What Doyle means, Cordelia, is that Buf.... Anne has gotten where she is in life by not messing up. She wouldn't all of a sudden be uninformed and lax in her duties. No, she wanted him to find those papers."
"Maybe she's not as bad as we think, man."
Angel shot Doyle a dubious look. "She's not Buffy."
"Wrong," Cordelia said, standing up. "She is Buffy. And we've got to tell the others." She picked up the phone and started dialing, pausing to look up the country code.
Angel plucked the phone from her hand and slammed it down. "No," he said, his tone menacing. "We don't tell them. Not yet."
"Why not?" Cordelia asked, incensed. "What is wrong with you?"
Doyle wrapped his hands around her upper arms and led her out of the office. "I think he's right, Delia. The first t'ing we need ta do is ta figure out how to deal wi' this ourselves. Then maybe we can break the news in the best possible way."
Cordelia took one last look into the office and saw Angel sitting at his desk, staring at the phone as if he expected it to lash out and bite him.
"Fine," she sighed. "I'll wait."
***
Anne stood at the front of the large conference room, feeling quite conspicuous. Fluorescent lights glared down from above, lending a harsh feel to the windowless room. The large conference table loomed before her, surrounded by twenty large, black leather chairs. All except one was filled. Walking to the end of the table, Anne pulled the chair back and sat down, setting her files in front of her.
"Would somebody care to tell me what this meeting has been called for and why I didn't know about it beforehand?" Her voice was low and bland, but she was furious. There was a shift of power going on here and she didn't like it one bit. She'd presided over the Council for the last three years and if they thought she was going to step aside lightly now, they needed to think again.
The Council itself was composed of the five members from each division of the Agency. In fact, the Council rarely met in person. It was considered a safety precaution that no two groups associated overly much. Anne didn't think she'd ever seen half the people present ever before. But then, members tended to change swiftly.
"Agent Summers," Agent Krylich began. "The Agency has been discussing a merger, of sorts, as of late and you have been notified at the right time. With your actions in Los Angeles - "
"Excuse me? My 'actions'? I was there doing my job. Why don't you cut the bullshit, Krylich, and tell me what this is really about?"
Agent Krylich turned to the other three members of the Elite. They were known as "The Elders", two men and one woman who had withstood the test of time and intelligence and had held onto their positions in the Agency for all they were worth. They were admired and respected throughout the entire organization, though they were, of course, always the object of undermining plans. He, himself, was only thirty years old, and Agent Summers was younger than he. The only way the up and comers would break into the small Elite group would be to oust one of the Elders. Their power was hesitant already, as shown by the fact that the young Summers woman had taken the Elite by storm and wielded control over the group. However, he seemed to be one of very few members who resented her. He'd been around far longer than she and felt he deserved to be the next in charge. This new turn of events left him feeling giddy.
"Agent Summers," the Elder Agent Thompson began, her voice smooth and even. "It has come to our attention that...perhaps it is time for you to have a partner."
Anne leaned back in her chair and looked out over the faces of the Council. "A partner?" she echoed.
Krylich nodded. "A partner."
Anne glared at him before returning her attention to the Elders. "Why? I've never needed a partner before. In fact, it's illegal within Agency walls to have partners. What are you implying?"
"Agent Summers," Elder Agent Markos addressed her. "It is not *illegal* to have partners within the Agency, it is merely frowned upon. We thought perhaps, because of your record, you would be the correct choice to team up with - "
"I don't need a partner," Anne said flatly. "I've done my job and I've done it well. In fact, I'm the best at what I do and I challenge any one of you to disagree with me." She was met with silence. Anne stood up. "I think this meeting is over."
"Not so fast, Agent," Krylich halted her.
"Perhaps we did not go about this right," Thompson interrupted him. She was quite aware of Krylich's greed for power, just as she was aware that her own place in the Agency -- in the Elite -- was tenuous. She'd much prefer to have Summers in charge than the evil bastard Krylich. Besides, Summers was correct -- she was the most accomplished Agent ever to move through the ranks. "Instead of regarding yourself as having a partner, perhaps you should think of the Agent as a new recruit."
"That's wonderful," Anne said sarcastically. "So what does this Agent have to do with me? Shouldn't he or she be with the Runts?" she asked, referring to the lowest level of the Agency, that which trained the new recruits. The members of that section coughed loudly and she looked up, daring them to say something to her. They quieted down quickly.
"Not this one," Markos said. "He's special."
"Special? Well, we'll just throw him a party then." She shook her head. "We don't make exceptions and we work by the rules. That's how we've stayed afloat for so long. Why break those rules now?"
"We 'stay afloat' as you so eloquently put it, Summers, because of what we do. Our duty is to right the wrongs. Now, I don't know where you came from, or what your background was before you entered the Agency, but obviously you've had some trouble with this idea. We don't just follow the rules. You may, but we don't. We're the last defense in the war of good versus evil. If we have to make a few exceptions, we will. Get used to it."
Anne sat white-faced with fury as she listened to Krylich's speech. "For your information, *Agent* Krylich, my background in this field is one you can't even begin to imagine. I do what I have to do and I'll play how I want to play. We may like to gloss it over, but the fact remains that if you had one half of the skill I do, maybe you'd be where I am today instead of being a footboy to the Elders."
"Children!" Thompson interrupted. "This is not a war within the Agency. If we fight amongst ourselves, all is lost. Now, this new recruit WILL be under your personal tutelage, Agent Summers. And Agent Krylich, I'd beware of what you say. If you'd be so good as to remember, positions in the Agency aren't what we'd call stable."
"Who is he?" Anne asked, her contemptuous gaze never leaving Krylich's.
"Lights," Markos bit out before hitting the button to raise the holographic monitor. As the picture took shape, the Council watched the new Special Agent. "He's powerful, but not so much as to cause waves in the Agency. He has special circumstances that I'm sure will..." Markos paused in his narration to glance at Anne, "work well with your own." He turned back to the hologram and continued. "Now, we've got some footage of him. If you watch carefully, you can see the way he moves...his skills...his weaknesses...."
Anne watched passively as the presentation went on. She hated this. This entire situation. Did they know what they were getting into? The lights came back on and the group sat, exchanging murmurs of appreciation at the choice. "I won't do it," Anne said without any preamble.
"Oh you will. And you'll like it, Summers."
Anne laughed. "You're enjoying this too much, Krylich. If I were you, I'd watch my back." Turning to the Elders, she shook her head. "He won't do it."
Thompson, Markos, and the silent Agent Seltown looked at each other. "Make it happen," Seltown told her.
Anne stood up, her eyes glowing green in fury. "You people have no idea what you're inviting in. This will only end in trouble, and when destruction comes to those of you who thought this up," she looked hard at Krylich, "and believe me, I know who you are and why you've done this -- I won't tell you 'I told you so'. No, I'll be standing by, watching as the flames of failure engulf you." She gathered her things and threw one last glare at her nemesis. "I'll bring you down myself, if it's the last thing I do."
The Elders shared a worried look as Agent Summers stalked out of the conference room.
"She means it, you know," Agent Lonnegan, of the Upper ranks, said. "And I don't blame her." He looked at Krylich scathingly and stood up. "Let it be known, from this moment forth, that the Agency is divided. And I'll openly swear fealty to Agent Summers. Those against her, are against me, and are therefore enemies." With that, he stood up and walked out, twelve others following him silently. The Elders looked at each other once more before Markos and Thompson stood and exited the room.
Krylich and Seltown were left, along with the last three remaining Agents. They were a small group, banded together in their dislike of one Agent Summers.
Seltown nodded at his prodigy, Krylich. "This is war," he said simply.
Anne was on a flight back to Los Angeles in less than twenty minutes. Her life was full of irony. Never a dull moment. She closed her eyes and fell asleep, dreaming of ways she could possibly convince the one man in the world she never wanted to see again...to become her partner.
Especially when Angel wanted nothing to do with her.
***
Angel closed the door to the apartment quietly as he stepped inside. It had been a long day and he just wanted to get changed, go out and work off some of his steam. But one look inside told him that wasn't going to happen.
Kate stood in front of the mantle, her arms crossed rigidly over her chest. "Have a nice day?" she asked coolly.
"I think the answer is apparent," Angel muttered and sat down in his chair. "What's going on, Kate?"
She looked at him. "Who's Anne?"
Angel looked up at her, his expression blank. "Anne who?" he asked carefully.
"Don't play games with me, Angel. Myrna told me there was some woman named Anne here last night. Who is she?"
Angel shrugged. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"How dare you lie to me," Kate accused harshly, her voice low.
"Maybe Myrna had a dream, did you ever stop to consider that?" He felt bad the moment the words were out of his mouth. How could he blame an innocent child for this?
Kate sat down across from him. "Is that what it was?" she asked with deceptive calmness. Angel had the distinct impression that she knew more than she let on.
"No," he answered truthfully. Angel raked his hands through his thick, spiky hair, and looked at her. "Anne is an old friend of mine. I...hadn't seen her in...many years. Her.... Her real name is Buffy." He heard Kate's sharp intake of breath and winced. She knew the history between him and Buffy, knew that his heart belonged to her.
Did it still? Well...that was a question for later.
"You let a stranger come in here, lie to my baby-sitter and get near MY daughter?"
It was Angel's turn to get angry. The stress of the last several hours had been building, and were coming to a head. "YOUR daughter? Try OUR daughter, Kate. She's part of me too, even if you don't like admitting it. I've been part of her life since the day she was born. You can't say that of her illustrious FATHER, can you? Buffy...Anne...whoever the HELL she is...is NOT a stranger and I trust her with my LIFE!" His anger dissipated the minute he finished the sentence. It was true. No matter who she was...what she proclaimed to be...what she'd done...she was still his heart and he still trusted her above anyone else, himself included. Taking a deep breath, Angel apologized. "I'm sorry. But I know that she would never, ever do anything to hurt Myrna." He knew it now, had known it last night, but he couldn't see it through his fury. If he ever found her again, there would be a lot to talk about.
"That's great," Kate told him. "That's absolutely wonderful. Your whore was in my home, near MY daughter, and you don't see anything wrong with that? Fine!" She stood up and gathered her purse and gun. "Let me tell you something, Angel. I will not abide that whore in my house. If she comes near Myrna or me, I will kill her. I don't care if you trust her or not, I see her as a threat. And if need be, I will hunt her down."
Angel was quickly losing his temper again, and clenched his fists at his side, not bothering to look at her. "I'd warn you not to be hasty in your actions towards Buffy. Like myself, there are things she is capable of that you can't even begin to imagine." Turning, he swept past her on his way to the door. As he swung it open, he laughed mirthlessly. "She is the god damned best, after all."
As the door slammed shut, Kate collapsed onto the floor, sobs wracking her body.
***
"Xander Harris' room, please."
"Just one moment, Miss."
"Hello?"
"Xander?"
"You got me. Who's this?"
Cordelia smiled and settled down behind Angel's desk. "Xander. It's me. Cordelia."
"Cordy? Wow. Where are you? It's been forever since we've heard from you."
"Yeah, well, life's and endless ride of joy, you know?"
"Just one fashion show after another," Xander agreed. "So what's up?"
"Ummm," Cordelia paused for a moment. Telling Xander first wouldn't be the brightest thing to do. "What? I can't call up my old pals every once in a while? How's the new Slayer?"
"She's...getting the hang of things...I think. Willow as a Watcher is quite the scary sight. Nikki's really...obedient. She reminds me of Kendra, though I think we're breaking her in little by little. I even saw her hide a laugh the other day. Quite the accomplishment, trust me."
"That's great. Sooo...is Willow around?"
"You wanna talk to Willow?"
"That's what I said."
"Ummm. Okay. Hold on for a sec."
"Hello?"
"Willow?"
"This is she. May I help you?"
"God, Giles really has had an impact on you, huh? It's Cordelia."
"Oh. Cordelia. Hi. What's up?"
"Why does anything have to be up for me to call my old buds?"
"Cordelia, the fact that you used the word 'buds' proves that's something's wrong."
"Okayyy. Good point. Well, the truth is, I do have some news you might be interested in."
"Oh really? What is it? Vampires? Demons? I know it's not Spike, he's here with us."
"No. It's definitely not of the above. It's..." Cordelia took a deep breath. "It's about Buffy."
There was silence on the line.
"Willow?"
"What about Buffy?" Cordelia could practically hear the despondency creeping into the redhead's body. None of the gang liked to talk about Buffy's death. Or disappearance, as the case seemed to be.
"Well...there's a problem, you see..."
"Cordelia," Willow said, quickly losing patience with the topic. "Just spit it out."
"Angel. I mean...we...well...Buffy...and...Anne...well...dead...and...not."
"That made absolutely no sense at all."
Cordelia sighed. It was now or never, do or die. "Willow, Buffy's not dead," she said in a rush of air.
Again, she was met with silence.
"Excuse me?"
"Buffy's not...dead. In fact, she's alive and kicking...a lot of ass."
"I think you're mistaken."
"Nope. Not mistaken. Quite sure, in fact."
"It's not possible. Unless.... I mean.... Is she a -"
"No, she's not a vampire. At least, Angel says she's not."
"Angel's seen her?"
"Oh yeah. He's the only one who's seen her."
"Oh. Well, don't you think it's possible that -"
"That what? That our beloved neighborhood vampire has been hallucinating? Normally I'd say yes, but.... Doyle's seen her too. He just, didn't have the background to recognize her."
Willow took a deep breath. "This isn't good. I mean, it's good. It's great. It's amazing. But this is so not good."
"I had to tell someone. Angel didn't...doesn't...want anyone to know yet. I think it's because he doesn't know how to deal with the situation."
"I guess I can understand that."
"Look, Willow, do you think it'd be possible for you to gather the gang and come back to the States ASAP?"
"I don't know, Cordelia. Maybe we shouldn't.... I mean, of course I'd want to see Buffy again, but...I don't know.... She...she let us all think she was dead...for so long...."
"Look, Willow. If you won't do this for me, do it for Angel. I mean it. I think...I think he's going crazy. You can't imagine...he's even beginning to look his age. He can't keep one single thought in his head for longer than five minutes. You know that's not like Angel. Willow...I'm afraid of what he might do."
Willow sighed. "I suppose you want me to tell the others?"
"I think it would be best. Besides, Angel won't let me call anyone. If he finds out I called you, I'm dead."
"Okay. I'll see what I can... Cordelia? Cordy?"
The line was dead.
Cordelia glared at Angel, looking at the phone cord dangling in his hand...still attached to a piece of the wall. "What do you think you're doing?"
"I could ask the same of you, Cordy."
"I was on the phone -"
"So I saw. So who were you talking to?"
For the first time in many years, Cordelia felt a thrill of fear race up her spine as she looked at Angel. He was so...menacing. "I was...t-t-talking to Willow."
"I thought I told you not to call them."
"Angel, they have a right to know!"
"And I have the right to -"
"No! Angel, these people cared just as much about Buffy as you did." She looked into his tortured gaze and sighed again. "Okay. Maybe not on the same level, but they loved Buffy too. You can't keep this from them. I know you hurt...but you can't keep Buffy all to yourself...you never could. Remember?"
"Hey, man, you're just da vampire I been lookin' for..."
Angel looked deeply at Cordelia before spinning around and brushing by Doyle, who was just walking into the office.
"Boy, what bee flew up his bottom?"
Cordelia plopped back down into the chair and gave him a rueful smile. "Three guesses," she sighed.
***
Anne stepped into her penthouse apartment and heaved a sigh of relief. It wasn't often that she felt any warm feelings about any of the places she inhabited, but she was happy to be away from the base. She set her bag on the floor and strolled towards the kitchen. It wasn't like her to be so disorderly, but her thoughts had been preoccupied since her meeting with the Council.
She should have known that any meeting called by Krylich was sure to bode ill on her end. In her opinion, he was a hotheaded agent who looked out for himself before any others. And that was something she wouldn't put up with. How he'd ever made it to the Elite, Anne was sure she didn't know. Or didn't want to admit. There was a tingling suspicion that he was in league with one of the Elders. But for what greater purpose, Anne didn't have a clue.
Slipping inside her office, Anne pulled up the city housing records. Searching through apartment leases, she found what she was looking for. And a little more. There, in the space labeled "spouse", was Kate's name. Or rather, she was Katherine Lockley, aged thirty-three, detective for the LAPD. A cold fist clenched in her stomach as she stared at the name. She'd only looked up his information to find a weak spot, perhaps something that could help her in her duty. But she'd found this...this living, breathing embodiment of betrayal. Anne laughed at herself. She was being overly dramatic. It didn't matter to her one way or another if he'd moved on. In fact, it just strengthened her determination to forget every last thing about him.
As she stood up and slipped into her jacket, she wondered why she was doing this, if that was true.
***
Foolish. Dangerous. Irresponsible. The words rang out in her head as she stood in front of the woman's desk. She was an Elite Agent, a person whose very existence was confidential. Those she made contact with were marked. A small grin played over her lips as she thought about that.
Kate walked out of Chief Jackson's office with a contemplative frown. He'd chewed her out for not being available the night before, and she'd been unable to tell him the truth of what happened. He wasn't exactly on the up and up with the demon community. She halted a few feet away from her desk when she saw a young girl looking around.
"Excuse me? Can I help you?"
Anne looked up and clasped her hands behind her back. Leaning against the edge of the desk, she smiled. Even her shades couldn't hide the fact that it didn't meet her eyes. "Maybe you can," she said softly. "I'm looking for...Detective Lockley." She leaned back and glanced at a picture on the desk. "That wouldn't happen to be you, would it?"
Kate nodded warily and stepped behind her desk. She'd seen this girl's type before. In her dark slacks and crisp shirt, she was obviously Daddy's Little Girl, a rich type who liked to run with a bad crowd. "What do you need?"
Anne sat down in the chair across from Kate and smiled politely. "I'm Anne," she introduced herself, all the while silently berating her own actions.
Kate looked up from her paperwork, her eyes swiftly wandering over the girl. At second glance, she could see that the girl was strikingly beautiful, despite how she chose to hide behind her glasses. Her skin was flawless, her lips a perfect Cupid's bow and tinted with the barest hint of pink, silky blonde hair -- the kind that she'd never been able to get, no matter how many hair styling products she used. Her attire was reserved, yet as noted before, not drably so. Kate would have staked her life that her wardrobe consisted of more than a few tags from Dolce & Gabbana, Prada, and Armani. Things Kate had only thought about. "You know, I could have you arrested right now if I wanted to?" she told Anne as she leaned back in her chair.
Anne fingered the gold and diamond choker around her neck and smiled. "I'd be out of here so fast, your head would spin."
"Unlawful entrance ring a bell to you?"
"What? I was invited in.... That is the rule, isn't it?" Her gaze was shrewd as she watched the police woman. They both knew she was referring to more than her brief visitation.
"Under false pretenses -"
Anne laughed softly. "You think I give a damn about any pretenses? You can't touch me. And even if you try...if you do, I must say it'll end up pretty badly for you. Perhaps fatally so."
"Are you threatening me?" Kate scowled. "This is my precinct. My territory. So why don't you walk your tiny ass right on out of here? And don't even think about coming near me or Angel or Myrna again. Because if you do, I'll bring you in so fast, you'll only wish your head was the only thing spinning."
"I'll do as I please," Anne said quietly. "And no one, not you, not Angel, can stop me."
Kate leaned forward, resting her elbows on her desk. "Is that right? Well, let me tell you something. Angel is committed to me. To *me*. We have a life together, understand that? A life that you could never, EVER, give him."
Anne stood up, her brittle smile still plastered to her face. She turned to leave, but hesitated. Looking back to Kate, her smile softened until it was almost sad, as if hurting for the both of them. "If that's so true," she began smoothly, "why is he so consumed with thoughts of me?" Without another word, Anne turned and strode out of the department, leaving Kate staring after her with a bitter taste in her mouth.
***
"Yes. Yes, she is as pretty as a fairy princess," Angel said, holding Myrna on his lap.
"She was nice," Myrna said as she yawned, closing her bright blue eyes as she rested against her Daddy's broad chest. "I liked her a lot. But...."
"But what, Sweetie?" he asked as he leaned back against her bed. Angel had been feeling pretty shitty overall, but his guilt over breaking his promises to his daughter was something he could fix. He'd come home early to find Alissa still there and Kate still at work. So he'd done his fatherly duties, fed Myrna, watched TV, and was now going through the long process of putting her to bed.
"It's just...Mommy got so mad this morning. Am I...am I not supposed to like Anne? She smelled so good.... She smelled like you used to smell."
Angel arched a brow. "Like I used to smell?"
Myrna nodded sleepily. "Umm hmm. Like...." She tilted her head and scrunched up her face in concentration, but couldn't find the right word for it. "Kinda like...safe. You know? And...sweet. But not like Mommy's perfume."
"Safe?" Angel laughed as he echoed his daughter's words. "Well. You're a very intelligent girl, you know that, don't you?" he asked as he touched the tip of her small nose with his finger.
Myrna nodded and giggled. "Tell me a story? A story about Anne. She said you used to be friends."
Angel leaned his head against her wall and sighed. "We did. We used to be great friends."
"Best friends?" Myrna asked.
Angel smiled, but it was bittersweet. "I suppose in some ways, yes. I trusted her more than anyone in the world, and she felt the same way."
"So why hasn't she ever come over here before? Is she Mommy's friend too?"
Angel shook his head. "No, your mother has never met Anne. But...I lost contact with her for a very long time."
"Why?" Myrna asked, focused on her father.
"Well...we had a...I had to...I left her. And she wasn't very happy about it. And our friendship suffered because of it."
Myrna looked up at him, her gaze confused. "But...but why would you do that? I mean, didn't you like her?"
Angel clenched his jaw and nodded. "I liked her very much. I just...I didn't want to hurt her."
"How would you have hurt her?"
"You really have a lot of questions tonight, don't you?" he teased her. She nodded and smiled angelically and Angel gave in. "I wasn't.... It's complicated. She needed a...friend...who could always be there for her. And I wasn't the right person for that. I'd already...broken her trust...once. But she forgave me. But as time went on, I was afraid that I'd hurt her again. So I had to go."
Myrna sighed. "But if she trusted you...and you trusted her...why couldn't you trust you?"
Angel laughed softly. "Good question."
"Tell me about her. What was she like?"
"She was strong," Angel said reminiscently. "Strong and so very, very brave. She was a wonderful girl, sweet, caring, honest, sensitive. She had the tendency to care too much about others and not enough for herself." He smiled slightly, lost in his memories. "And she was as beautiful as the sun."
"You loved her, didn't you?"
"What?" Angel asked, snapping back to the present.
"Usually when boys compare girls to the sun, it means they love 'em," Myrna said wisely.
Angel laughed. "I think it's time for you to go to bed." He stood up and leaned down to kiss her cheek. "And no. It's not wrong for you to like Anne. She...can be...a very likable person." He walked to the door and switched off her light.
"Daddy?" he heard her tiny voice. "Can Anne come over again?"
Angel leaned against the door frame. "I'm not sure," he told her quietly. "I don't know where she is."
Myrna smiled in the darkness. "Don't worry," she said. "If anyone can find her, it's you and Uncle Doyle."
Angel watched her snuggle down into her covers before closing the door shut silently.
***
"I'm sorry. Angel ain't here -"
"That's okay. I didn't come to see him."
"You!"
Anne smiled as she swept off her shades and sat down across from Doyle. "'Tis I. What? No smile, no 'How ya been?' I'm hurt," she said, pacing her hand over her chest in feigned pain.
"Right," he scoffed, watching her warily as he sat down behind his desk. His instincts told him she wasn't a threat, but as a woman who was causing his boss and best friend a whole lot of grief, he didn't trust her. "Wha' brings you here dis time o' night?"
She smiled vaguely. "Oh, I was just in the neighborhood. Thought I'd drop in and pay a visit to my oh-so-close friends."
Doyle arched a brow. "Yer here ta kill me, ain't ya?"
Anne laughed. "I told you before, if I wanted to kill you, you'd be dead by now. Actually, I just stopped by…."
"You just stopped by…?" he echoed.
She averted her gaze. "I wanted to make sure you've decided to call off your foolish investigation."
Doyle nodded in understanding. "I been meaning ta ask you abou' that. I thought ya were supposed to be some big evil. Why were ya helpin' me…ahhh…but 'twas just ta get me offa yer trail, wasn't it? Why do ya keep hidin' things from me?"
Anne leaned forward in her chair. "There are things you just don't need to know, Doyle. I'm *helping* you by *not* telling you."
"Oh really? Well, wha' about the things you don't know about yer almighty Agency, eh? What about those cover-ups that are kept even from yer pryin' eyes?"
She laughed again and shook her head. "You really have no idea what you're talking about, do you? You're playing with fire here, Doyle. And for some odd reason, I don't want to see you get burned."
"Yer the one who's short a few pieces, doll," Doyle told her as he opened his desk drawer and slipped out a thick manila folder. He slid it to her over the desk and motioned to open it. "Your precious Agency isn't all it's cracked up ta be."
Anne cautiously opened the folder and began to flip through the loose pages. There were hundreds of cases logged against a group of people, noted only as the "Agency". Bombings, acts of terrorism, treasonous acts in over a hundred countries... This wasn't her Agency, not as she knew it. Obviously Doyle was barking up the wrong tree. Her thoughts drifted back to her earlier ponderings of Krylich and the Elders. It was impossible...wasn't it?
"And?" she asked him, her gaze unreadable.
"It's true, ain't it? Ya know that much. I mean…" he leaned forward and leered at her. "You are the best…aren't you? Nothing like this would ever slip by you."
"I don't know what you're talking about," Anne said, holding her fury in. "It's obvious to me that your evidence is circumstantial surrounding the Agency. And even if there is some…terrorist action group out there, it's not mine. So why don't you spend your time actually investigating your case?" Standing swiftly, she strode out of Doyle's office.
***
"She actually came down to my precinct, to my desk…" Kate fumed.
Angel sat in his chair, his elbows resting on his knees as he leaned forward. He couldn't quite keep the warm feeling inside from happening. At least she was safe…and still in LA. Maybe he'd have the chance to run into her again. But if that happened…. "I'm sorry," he said tightly. "I didn't know anything about it. I didn't even know she was still in town."
"You know what she said?" Kate stopped her pacing and stood right in front of Angel, hands on her hips. "She said, if we have such a committed relationship, why are you still constantly thinking of her? She asked me that."
Angel looked up at her, his face void of emotion.
"Come on, Angel. It's a good question. Why don't you tell me the answer and I can share it with her the next time we meet?"
"Is that what you think? That she's constantly on my mind?" He stood up and brushed passed her.
"Isn't it? All I know is that…since the day we've met, you've held a part of yourself away from me. And I know you say that you can't have a real relationship, not the kind that I want. But tell me…if it's what she wanted…would you be able to give it to her?"
"It's not like that, Kate."
"Like Hell it's not! Me…or her. One way or the other. You can't have us both, Angel. Not even *you* are that good."
Angel turned on her. "I can't even stand the sight of her," he growled, "and you want me to choose? There's nothing to choose. Why can't you get that through your head?!?"
"Then why don't you love me? Why can't you love me the way I love you?" Her eyes were red and angry, as if she'd been crying for a very, very long time. Angel realized that inside, she probably had.
He sighed resignedly. "I don't have it in me, Kate," he tried to explain. "Everything I was…everything I am…I gave it to her. I told you this at the beginning. I can't love anyone…not the way that I loved her."
Kate shook her head. "Just admit it, Angel," she said scathingly. "It's not that you can't…people love and lose and get over it every day.... The fact is…you don't *want* to love anyone again."
Angel looked at her. He didn't know what to say. There was nothing he could do to make things easier on her.
Kate nodded. "Fine. We're leaving." She turned on her heel and stormed into Myrna's room, waking her daughter and throwing things into duffel bag.
"What? No. You can't leave, Kate."
"Can't? Can't?!?" Kate laughed sobbingly. "Is that like you *can't* love anyone else?" When she was finished with Myrna's bad, she hefted it over her shoulder and picked the half-asleep child up in her arms. "Wrong, Angel, as always. I can leave, and I will. She's my daughter, mine. And she always has been. Not yours, not anyone else's."
"Kate!" Angel roared, but it was too late. She slammed the door after herself and Angel was afraid of what he might do if he followed her. He calmed himself by saying that she'd be back. Morosely, he slumped into his chair and hung his head in his hands. Was this the road to redemption? His life was on a one-way track to Hell. Again. Everything he'd believed in, had faith in, cared for…it was all breaking apart. And he knew…knew he deserved it all.
An eternity seemed to pass before he looked up. He stared into the glass on the china cabinet the rested against the opposite wall. No reflection for him. The chair seemed empty, as it should be.
But things weren't always as they should be.
"I have a proposition for you," the reflection said softly, leaning against the door behind him.
He held her gaze in the glass and sighed.
***
"It's nice to see you again, too, Mrs. Summers," Willow said politely as she, Xander, Spike, and Niki sat down across the table from Joyce and Giles.
"Yeah, luv, you haven't aged a bit," Spike grinned.
Joyce gave him a patronizing smile. "The marshmallows and chocolate are in the pantry, Spike, second shelf from the top.
Spike chuckled, but got up and headed into the kitchen.
Giles nodded towards Niki. "I hear you've made many accomplishments in your training."
The young girl nodded stiffly. "That I have," she answered.
Giles arched a brow at her terseness, but smiled. "That's…good." The new Slayer -- well, they were all "new" Slayers to Giles - was so unlike Buffy to him that he didn't exactly know what to do. Perhaps it was age, perhaps it was the vibrant girl's lasting impression on him, but he seemed to have forgotten all of his rigid Watcher training. However, Xander assured him that this replacement had much more innate skill than the last five. Had it always been this way, Giles wondered? Or had Buffy actually been so exceptional that no other Slayer could best her? He shook his head. Now that was a fanciful thought. Giles looked at the girl. She was very pretty -- perhaps one of the reasons Spike had stuck with them for so long. Then again, maybe not. Despite her black hair and violet eyes, she seemed dull and lifeless. Much unlike the spark and wit Spike seemed to crave.
"So, what brings you all back so soon?" Joyce asked. "I thought you weren't due back until December."
"Call it…an unresolved problem," Spike said as he walked back into the living room, sipping his hot chocolate.
Willow frowned at him and sighed. She looked at Xander who hadn't said a word since they'd arrived in Sunnydale. He really hadn't taken the news well.
Giles watched them in consternation. Something wasn't right. They were all acting as if…as if they had some great burden resting on their shoulders and none of them wanted to share. "What is actually going on?" he questioned.
Willow bit her lip unsurely before taking a deep breath. "Well…something happened while we were in Italy. Well, I didn't happen in Italy, it happened in Los Angeles."
Giles noticed Xander clenching his fists, his knuckles turning white. "Yes…?" he prompted Willow, inherently knowing that he'd only be able to get the story out of her.
"Well…a few days ago…we…we got a call. F-from Cordelia. She…she kinda, well…she had some news on Buffy. On Buffy's…death. Or lack of."
Joyce shook her head and looked from Willow to Giles. "I don't understand. What are you saying? Everything that could possibly have been done was -"
"Joyce," Spike interjected. "She's saying that Buffy isn't dead."
"Oh my God," she whispered softly, her gaze falling blindly to the table. "I…I can't believe…Buffy…." Joyce looked up uncomprehendingly, tears streaming down her face. "But…how…why…? I don't…I don't understand."
"Mrs. Summers -" Willow began.
A new thought entered Joyce's head and she slammed her fists on the table. "It's been nine years! Why didn't we know this before?!? Why didn't she tell us? What the HELL is going on?!?!" she raged.
She stood up on unsteady feet, but Giles was quick to catch her. She sobbed in his embrace, and he couldn't deny his own quiet fury that was rumbling through his body. If she wasn't a vampire, and obviously she wasn't, or Willow would have said something, then she'd knowingly abandoned them all. A girl like Buffy, if she'd survived, would have been able to get word to them that she was okay…if she'd wanted to. Which obviously hadn't been the case. He felt betrayed on some deep, primal level that wouldn't let him think, only feel.
Willow took another deep breath and sighed. "The thing is…Cordelia wants us to come to LA. All of us. ASAP."
***
Angel flexed his jaw against the encroaching tenseness. "I don't know what you could possibly have to say to me that would be of any interest," he said. No matter how clearly he could think about the situation when she was away, seeing her infuriated him. He wanted to wrap his hands around her slender little neck and squeeze. Of course, he was immediately ashamed of the thought. This was Buffy, his one true love...no, this was Anne, a wretched creature who had killed his love. Confusion raged inside his body, and so when she was near, he could no more think straight than he could walk out into the sunlight.
Anne remained standing, watching the way the muscles in his back bunched up and relaxed and tensed again. So much time had passed, so many years and so many experiences...and still she could feel his every emotion washing over her body. She hated and craved the feelings he evoked inside of her. Simply put, he was her weakness. How many times had she been so near Willow or Xander or Giles...yet to protect them, and herself, she never risked getting close or making herself known. But Angel...seeing him, his daughter, his...life...she'd been unable to just ignore it all. Part of her...the weak part...had needed to see him, how he was doing, if he...if he still loved her. "I need you," she told him quietly.
Every word she spoke killed another part inside of him. He could barely stand the sound of her voice. He wanted to rip himself apart, just so the sound of her would not reverberate so sweetly within his mind. Angel laughed, a bitter, mocking sound. "Need me?" He stood up and turned to her. "I don't even know you, why should I help you? You're nothing to me."
Anne arched a slender brow and looked at him dispassionately, despite the emotions warring inside of her. What she needed to was get a grip. As he said, she meant nothing to him, and he should mean nothing to her. What they'd had...what they'd had was dead now, along with the person she used to be. "Huh. Who's being the brat now?" she asked, a vague memory flashing through her mind.
Incensed, Angel morphed in and out of his game face, but quickly reigned in his demon. He clenched his fists at his sides, willing himself to keep restraint. "Leave. Now," he ordered her firmly.
Anne didn't even flinch at his antics and sauntered further into his apartment. Sinking down into his favorite chair, she crossed her legs and looked up at him. "I'll leave when I'm ready to leave. Right now I have to speak with you. Preferably on a somewhat civil level."
Angel shrugged. "Fine. I'll leave then." He grabbed his jacket off the back of the chair and strode towards the door.
Anne laughed shortly. "You really are perfecting that move, aren't you, Angel?"
Angel let the door close with a soft click. "You're one to talk. At least I was still around for you after I left. You *knew* you could come to me if you ever needed me. What'd you leave me? Leave all of us? We thought you were dead. Oh yeah, BUFFY, I think your games still take the cake."
"You were there for me?" she scoffed. "Don't you see, Angel?" she asked as she stood up. "You never could be there...not after...not like I needed you to be. Think about it. You know it's true. If I'd even once asked for your help...it wouldn't have been about the situation. Our own emotions...obligations...they would always have been there, right beneath the surface. Could you have faced that again? You left because you couldn't be near me...you think working together with so much tension wouldn't have been HELL?"
Angel looked up at the ceiling, using deep breaths to keep him calm. And yet, what she said...it made sense to some part of him. For the first time he questioned himself. His intentions had always been good, and he would have gone running if she ever needed help...but would that have been for the best? It would have been as risky as lighting a match in a room full of explosives. And now it was left to conjecture just as much. They'd never know.
"But.... I need you now," she admitted. "No feelings...no ulterior motives...no emotions involved."
Angel watched her for a long moment. No feelings, no emotions? Maybe not for the Ice Queen in front of him, but he was quite certain he'd never be emotionless while she was around. "Talk," he commanded her.
"Thank you. First of all, I ask of you...please don't tell Doyle -" she stopped at his raised brows.
"No."
"Don't tell him. Now, I need you to work with me. Kind of on...an assignment."
Angel leaned back against the door and crossed his arms over his chest. "Ahhh...the infamous Agency, huh? I'm not sure I like what I've heard of this group. So why don't you tell me exactly what your job is."
Anne shook her head. "I have to have your answer before I can tell you anything. And I need to know I can trust you...trust that you won't speak to anyone about this. We can leave first thing in the morning."
"That's a lot of secrecy coming from someone I don't even trust." Angel opened the door and stepped to the side. "No."
Anne smiled as she walked to the door. "Oh, I assure you, you'll do it."
***
"Are you sure...?"
"Have you examined every possible theory...?"
"I just can't believe it. She wouldn't DO something...."
"Why is everyone so concerned...?"
Cordelia sat behind Doyle's desk and sighed. Doyle was perched on the edge of the desk, his arms folded over his chest sullenly. He didn't like having his space invaded, number one, he'd told her. And number two, he didn't like having his space invaded by people who shouldn't have been there in the first place. It was just his way of telling her he didn't think it was a wise idea, inviting the gang to LA. Not that that had ever stopped her.
"God. Just shut up, people! This isn't Jerry Springer, you know. Sheesh! You'd think you people never got any shocking news." Doyle looked down at her incredulously and she shrugged. "What?"
Giles stepped forward out of the fray. "Are you quite sure that this woman is in fact Buffy, Cordelia? I'm sure the importance of the question is not lost on you."
"Of course the importance isn't lost on me. Look, I haven't seen her, though God knows it wouldn't be the first time I've encountered a walking, talking corpse. But anyway. Doyle's seen and Angel's most definitely had some interaction with her. The way I hear it, she's grown up to be a real bitch. Of course, anything would be an improvement over her old attitude, if you know what I mean."
Giles rolled his eyes and turned around. The entire situation was driving him mad and Cordelia's blase attitude was not helping matters.
"I just can't believe it," Joyce was saying. "She's my daughter. I'm her mother. How could she NOT let me know she was alive?"
Doyle shot Cordelia a know glance. This entire evening just made him want to go down to the pub. He'd told her no good could come of this, but did she ever listen? No. Of course not. She was Little Miss Cordelia Almighty Chase.
"I don't understand *why* Buffy would do something like this," Willow said in contemplation. "I mean...what could push her enough over the edge to run away again...and not come back? Things weren't going that bad...right?" Her gaze was confused as she looked up.
Spike was playing with Myrna's discarded rag doll when he looked up. His eyes traveled warily over the room. Everyone was looking at him. "What?!?"
The door slammed open, and Angel looked around in surprise. He slumped against the doorway, holding his head in his hands. "Why? WHY? Why can't I find a place...safe...and warm...maybe HELL?!?"
"It's you!" Joyce shouted, pointing to Angel. "I don't know how, but you HAVE to be behind this. You're the only one who could push Buffy over the edge. It's all *your* fault...." Furious tears streamed down her face and Giles wrapped his arms around her trembling body.
"That's IT!" Angel roared. "I'm TIRED of being blamed for every single crime where Buffy's concerned! You want something to worry about? Fine. Worry about the next time I see her. She's the whole reason this is happening. I swear, all I want to do is wrap my fingers around her slender, silky throat and.... I can't DO this anymore! She actually expects me not to care that she's been 'dead' for nine years. She's my God damned LIFE...she expects me not to CARE?!?!?" As he raged, his vampire visage broke through. He stalked back and forth, like a caged animal. Lashing out, he punched the wall, tearing a hole in it. Snarling, he turned back to the group. While Joyce cowered in Giles' embrace, the others looked on in worry. They were more afraid of him hurting himself than hurting them. "I'm finished with this! You want something to worry about, fine! I'll give you something to worry about -"
"Aww...shut your gob. You're too much of a poof to ever do anything worthy of your balls. Now sit down." Spike pushed away from the table he was leaning against and stood in the center of the room. "I don't think I've ever seen so many fools as I do in this room right now. You know, maybe the Slayer had the right idea, disappearing and all. I certainly don't know why *I* continue to associate with the bunch of you." He shook his head patted his pockets for his cigarettes. Pulling the pack out, he took one and lit it.
"Ummm, an announcement for the illiterate in the room, but the sign clearly says 'No Smoking'," Cordelia said, pointing to the small plaque on Doyle's desk.
Spike arched a brow and inhaled, blowing the smoke out towards her. Looking back at the group, he groaned. "Oh, don't tell me you don't get it yet," he said of their bemused stares. "Look." He stood up straight and motioned widely. "No, seriously. Look at all of you. Now you tell me one good reason why the Slayer would *want* to stick around."
"B-b-but...Buffy was our friend. She loved us. She wouldn't just abandon us for...no...good...reason...." Willow said, slowing. "Well, that one time was understandable. It was of good reason," she defended.
Spike shrugged. "Fine. You wanna know the real reason she left?" At their nods, Spike turned and looked at his Sire. "You're right. It was because of him."
Joyce glared accusingly at Angel, who was glaring at Spike. "Care to explain?" he asked menacingly.
Spike laughed. "Oh boy. Stupid *and* a Nancy-boy...those gyps really put a whammy over on you, eh? Let me spell it out for you. After you left, there was nothing left to the Slayer. Oh sure, she was still a fighter. Always would be...will be. But...her heart wasn't in it. She'd go out patrolling and I swear she wanted it to be the last time. I can't count how many times I found her just about to give in. But she'd see me, and stubborn chit that she is, she'd get to kickin' some undead ass. I'd tell her her time was coming, and she believed me. Wanted it to happen. Really, Angelus...you ruined the girl. Chalk another Slayer up to the Scourge of Europe, huh?" Spike laughed at Angel's tortured expression. "Anyway...so she found a way out. And that's all I know. End of story. Can't say I blame her. You blokes are real downers."
"Can that be true?" Willow whispered.
"No," Xander said stubbornly, his menacing stare focused on the blonde vampire. "Don't believe a word he says. He wouldn't know Buffy if he was the last vampire on earth. Not like we do. She'd know...she'd know *he* wasn't worth it."
Angel was shaking his head. "He's right.... I'm not worth it. Buffy would know that.... She would." It was unclear as to whether he was trying to convince the gang...or himself.
***
Myrna sat on the floor next to Kate's desk, quietly coloring. Kate had realized five minutes after she left the apartment that her purse, and subsequently her wallet, were still inside. Too proud to return, she remembered that she had a stash of cash and an extra credit card in her desk at the department. Myrna had woken up en route and had yet to go back to sleep. It had been over half an hour since she got there. All she could do was sit and think. Maybe she'd been too hard on Angel. Maybe she'd overreacted.
"Mommy," Myrna yawned. "When are we gonna go home? I'm tired."
Kate smiled down at her daughter. "In a few minutes, baby. I just have to finish up this report and then we can go, okay?" Myrna was such a good little girl. Obedient. Quiet. Kind. So much like Angel. They shared a closeness Kate envied, but she always felt guilty for feeling that way. She saved her report on her computer and stood up. "Ready?"
Myrna nodded and gathered her crayons and coloring book and put them neatly back into the bottom drawer of her mother's desk. She raised her arms and Kate picked her up, gathering her money and keys.
Her car was parked about two blocks away and the shadows were dense and dark. It wasn't something that would usually get to her, as she was a cop, but with her daughter in her arms she'd be unable to reach her gun quickly. A tickling, paranoid feeling danced over the back of her neck as she walked down the sidewalk. A noise sounded behind her and she paused, listening closely. After a moment, she'd heard nothing, and turned back around. As she walked, she imagined she heard footsteps falling in synch with hers. She swirled around quickly, but nothing was there. Kate took a deep breath and laughed at herself for having an overactive imagination. Ever since she'd discovered Angel's secrets, the night had somehow seemed more intimidating to her. She turned and began walking again, nevertheless picking up her pace.
As she reached her car and set Myrna down, she was attacked from behind. Her attacker pushed her face forward up against the car and pressed his body against hers. Kate dropped her keys and tried to reach for her gun, but it was useless. Besides, her main thought wasn't with herself, but with Myrna. She would kill anyone who touched her daughter. The man banged her head down against the window of her car, shattering the glass. She could feel the cuts on her face, but was more intent on the sound of her keys jingling. Darkness was covering her vision, but she knew she had to stay awake.
The locks popped and she yanked open the back passenger door, throwing Myrna in. After that was settled, Anne yanked the man back by his collar and tossed him to the ground. She kicked him in the stomach with her booted foot and he was thrust a few feet away.
"What? You know, you guys are never any fun anymore. I think someone hasn't been eating his Wheaties," she mocked as she picked the guy up. "Give us a kiss?" she breathed sexily, pulling him close so that his chest impaled itself on the stake she held between their bodies. He sank to his knees. "Mmmm. Maybe not. Really...I don't fuck losers." With that, he burst into dust.
Wiping the dirt off of her pants, she turned around and walked back to the car. Kate was kneeling on the ground in the open backdoor, crying as she tried to make sure her daughter was safe. Myrna watched her mother, a worried frown on her face, but Anne knew it was most likely caused by the way her mother was acting more than the event itself. The girl looked up and smiled brightly as she saw Anne.
"I want to thank you..." Kate said, turning as she stood up. But the friendly words died on her lips as she saw who it was. "You!" she spat lowly.
"Yeah...I keep getting that," Anne replied offhandedly.
"Get away from my daughter," Kate warned as she slammed the door shut. "Just...stay away." She crossed in front of her car and swung open the door, revving the engine almost immediately. Her tires screeched as she sped off.
Anne nodded. "You're *so* welcome."
***
"So she paid ya another visit, eh man?" Doyle asked as he lounged in his desk chair. The crowd had dissipated only moments after Spike's revelation over Buffy's actions. Now it was just him, Angel and Spike sitting in his office.
Angel nodded as he reclined on the leather sofa. "I swear, she's worse than a vampire when it comes to popping up when you least expect it. I didn't even hear her come in. Just looked up and there she was."
"What'd she want?" Spike asked, his feet propped up on Doyle's desk as he sat in the chair across from him.
Angel rubbed his hands over his eyes. "She wants me to work with her."
Doyle say up so fast that he fell out of his chair. "Wh - well, ya said yeah, right, man? This coul' be the chance we've been waitin' for."
Angel sighed. "No, I told her I wouldn't do it -" He was cut off when the phone hit him in the head.
"Call her! Call her now and tell her ya'll do it."
Angel growled. "I don't *have* her number, Doyle. In case you haven't noticed, she's kinda secretive about her information."
"Well then, go find 'er, man! We don't have much time. What if she finds someone else? Go. GO!"
Angel heaved a deep breath and stood up wearily. "I don't want to," he said, glaring at Doyle. "But since you're so sure about this case, I will."
Spike watched the two in amusement. "Right, mate. All because of Doyle...yeah...I'll buy that," he commented dryly as Angel strode out of the room.
***
He walked in the shadows, keeping an eye out for her. Of course, in a city like LA, there were only about a million places she could be. Angel raked his fingers through his hair and swore. How in the hell was he supposed to find her? Every encounter between them had been set up by her, except that first one. He'd been patrolling and obviously she had been too. So his only idea was to do the same thing and hope that he ran into her. Of course, he'd been doing that for three hours now with no success.
She was an enigma. That made him smile. How many times had she thought that about him? Everything about her threw him for a loop. She was like a wild animal, barely contained. She'd get just close enough for him to touch her, and then she'd try to bite. And yet, every turn showed him a new, beautiful facet. So maybe she was like a diamond, cold and sparkling and beyond compare.
He shook his head. Maybe Kate was right. Maybe? No...she was definitely right. He just couldn't get Buffy out of his head. And he wanted to hate her, did hate her, but yet...it was with a passion that consumed him only to rival his undying love for her. When he'd thought her dead...he was able to live with the fact that she was in no way associated with his life. He fought and loved in her memory, because she would have wanted it that way.... But he'd been wrong. And now that she was back, back in his life, his world was once again wrapped around hers.... But she'd leave again. So what would he do once she severed the ties? It wouldn't be the same. No, this time he'd know that she really felt as dead towards him as he'd thought she was. She didn't seem to care, to feel. Except for, perhaps, the tinge of bitterness left in her heart.
Had he done that, Angel wondered. Had he killed the love she had for him? Oh God, how she made him hate her! He wanted to hurt her, to make her feel the same way he felt whenever she was around. The mere sight of her beauty caused the bile to rise in his throat, caused his stomach to clench into a cold knot of disgust, caused his body to repell itself from hers in the face of so great a betrayal. Oh yes, he wanted to hurt her. Wanted to make her cry, to beg, *anything* so long as she *felt*. And that's what ate away at him the most...how emotionless she was. A husk of her old self, the Buffy he knew and loved for being so caring and gentle and loving.
The irony of his painful desire struck a chord within, for hadn't he killed that part of her in the first place? Spike sure seemed to think so.
"You're doing it," she said from her seat atop the monkey bars.
Looking around, Angel realized he'd wandered into a playground. She was just sitting there...looking so damn ethereal. How *long* had she been there? He didn't presume to fool himself. He hadn't found her. She'd only show herself when she wanted to be seen, and not before. Not for the first time, Angel looked at her. Really looked at her. In her black leather pants and tight black sweater, he could almost swear she hadn't changed at all. Her youth and air of innocence pervaded his being. Nine years had passed and still she looked like the Buffy of his dreams.
"Yes."
Anne nodded and hopped down easily. "You told him."
Angel arched a brow and watched as she circled around him. "Told who? I haven't -"
"Really, Angel. I'm surprised at you. It's not worth lying about."
Angel winced slightly as her words evoked an almost unnatural sense of guilt in him.
"I saw Kate and Myrna earlier," she told him nonchalantly. "Kate was being attacked by a vampire."
Worry immediately overcame him. "How's Myrna? Nothing happened to her, did it? Where are they? I need to go -"
"Relax," Anne told him coolly, sitting down on a swing. "They were fine when they left. That Kate, she's one gracious lady."
"I have to go to them," Angel said, turning.
"I said they were fine. Besides, it's not like you could find them anyway," she said angrily. "She doesn't want to be found, Angel. Believe me, I know the feeling."
Angel turned around, glaring in response to her open hostility. "What's your problem, Buffy? You act as if you care and we both know that's not true."
"Of course I don't," Anne retorted coldly. "And the name is Anne, not Buffy. It'd serve you well to remember that tiny little detail." When he didn't make a move to say anything else, she nodded. "We're leaving town soon. Be ready." Standing up, she turned to leave.
"Can't you at least tell me where we're going?" Angel asked.
Anne turned around, a small smile on her lips. "It's...a surprise."
***
"Tell me again," Seltown commanded, his hands folded in his lap as he listened to Krylich's report.
Roger Krylich sat grinning, as sated as the cat who'd just eaten the canary. "He's exactly what we've been waiting for, Sir. Powerful, charismatic...secretive. Do you know, there's nothing at all in his records to cast aspersions on? He's clean. That means beyond the taint of suspicion. This..." he waved his hands in the air and laughed, "ANGEL...might just as well be that. Summers won't know what hit her."
Elder Agent Nicholas Seltown frowned. "This all sounds good, Krylich. I'm just not convinced."
"What's not to believe? This is our fucking wet dream come true. He's a powerful man who runs the most influential building in Los Angeles, housing some of the most influential men and women in the world. And what's better, he has *rank* on them. It's very subtle, but I've watched what goes on in this company. They're all madmen, each and every one of them...and they all answer to him. Power, Agent, power. We've worked for years for this chance. With his backing, we won't have to answer to the Agency. In fact, with Angel behind us, there won't have to *be* any Agency. What do you think about that, Agent?"
Seltown smiled grimly. "I think that it sounds very well thought out. But planning doesn't get the job done, people do. Are you sure Mr. McKiernan will agree to it?"
Krylich chuckled brusquely. "After spending any time with Agent Summers, how could he not? She stands for everything he's shown himself not to be. He's a vampire, Seltown, and a major force in the demon community. When he finds out what the Agency is all about, it's inevitable that he'll want to destroy it. And we'll be there to ride the waves in. Besides," he grinned. "By the time the Agency crumbles, it really won't matter anymore, will it? Summers is the backbone of this place. Her demise will the be the catalyst we need. And Angel McKiernan will be the man to set our plan in motion."
***
"Angel's really not taking this well, is he?" Willow asked, sitting on the sofa in Cordelia's apartment.
Cordelia rolled her eyes. "Well, duh. What gave you that idea? His obvious mental breakdown, maybe?"
Willow sighed and rubbed her eyes tiredly. "How long do you think he'll...he'll be able to hold up under the pressure?"
"Until the pressure goes away. I give 'em a week before they're doing the horizontal mambo. Just watch. It's written all over his face."
Willow looked unsure. "I know it's been a while, but curse? You really think he'd put that at risk?"
Cordelia handed a mug of coffee to Niki, who was sitting quietly on the floor, and sat down in an oversized arm chair. Her legs swinging absently over the arm, she laughed. "Oh yeah. You don't get needs like that and just let them go. It's because it's been so long that he's not gonna be able to control it." At Willow's worried look, Cordelia sighed. "You guys really don't keep up, do you? Angel's curse? Hello? Out the window a few years ago. Angel did a favor for some old lady, she was some...mage or something, I don't remember. Anyway, she didn't have any money, so she paid him back the only way she knew how -- with a spell. Of course, that was back in the days when Angel actually *cared*. After Buffy died..." her voice trailed off as she watched Willow's sad face. "Well, I doubt it'd be a problem now, anyway. Even if they do get fleshy, I doubt either one will be happy about it afterwards."
"Why is this a problem in the first place? The old Slayer has obviously moved on. She left you. Why don't you let her go?" Niki asked.
Willow gazed at the young girl. She herself was in training to become a Watcher, with Xander and Spike's help, and yet she couldn't have the same reserved, emotionless regard as the other Watchers did. Perhaps it came from Giles' influence on her life. "We care because she's our friend. Well, she was our friend. And I believe deep inside, she still knows that."
"It sounds to me as if she broke beneath the pressure. She couldn't cut it as a Slayer, end of question."
Cordelia looked at the girl as if she had two heads. "Excuse me? Okay, maybe Buffy and I were never the greatest of friends, but let me tell you something. Buffy was Slay-Gal. She kicked more demon butt than...than anyone, I bet. She was all...active and sweaty...and yet she could still wear Vera with the best of us. So, just because you think you're all that, let me tell ya, Buffy was, is and always will be THE Slayer." Cordelia finished her tirade and took a sip of her cappuccino, as if nothing had happened.
Willow watched the ex-May Queen in awe. She thought she'd never seen Cordelia Chase ever stand up for anyone like that in her life. And only a second later, she was back to her usual self. It made Willow giggle.
Cordelia arched a brow. "What's your malfunction?"
Willow shook her head. "Remember...remember that time when we all, well -- not you, changed into our costumes? Remember how helpless Buffy was? I know we couldn't laugh at the time, but seeing her all ladylike was pretty funny."
"Ugh. Don't remind me," Cordelia moaned. "I thought Xander was never gonna get out of his 'I'm a military soldier' phase. Do you *know* how many times he made me watch him assemble an M-16?"
The two women looked at each other and laughed as Niki watched them. It was foreign to her, this bond of friendship. She really wouldn't believe the old Slayer shared in this until she saw it with her own eyes.
"Oh, oh!" Cordelia exclaimed. "And remember that time those fish guys were sprouting all over the place? I just about died when I saw Xander in a Speedo!"
"Or the time the lunch lady tried to poison us all!"
The two girls grinned as they reminisced. "Xander and Jell-O!" they chorused together.
Willow shook her head. "Xander really did get the brunt of a lot of things, didn't he?" she asked.
Cordelia rolled her eyes. "Let's not forget the love spell."
Willow smiled fondly. "You know, sometimes I feel like we never really started living until Buffy moved to Sunnydale."
"Oh please," Cordelia scoffed. "I was living just fine. My life didn't go to hell until she came to town." She saw Willow's shocked look and sighed grudgingly. "Of course, I guess I didn't really have any true friends till then, either. No matter if you were all losers or not."
"Remember when we first met Angel?" Willow grinned. "Buffy was gone from the moment she saw him, even if she didn't admit it. And when I saw him, I'll admit, I knew why she'd fall for him."
"Ooohh...he was one of the best things I'd ever seen in Sunnydale. It would figure that all he had eyes for was Buffy."
Willow arched a brow. "Not to be...rude, or anything...but I'm kinda surprised you never made a move on him once you two began working together."
Cordelia made a face. "Ewww much! Puh-lease. I do have some respect for myself, you know. Doyle may not be Mr. America, but at least he doesn't reek of Buffy Summers. As you know," she glared mockingly at the witch, "I'm not one for sloppy seconds." Willow blushed lightly and Cordelia laughed. "Come on. If I'm over it, you should be too," she told her. "Believe me, fashion victim or not...I...really like Doyle."
The three females sat in silent contemplation. Cordelia thought about her relationship with Doyle, as complicated as it was. But then, Cordelia Chase was not one to play easy to get. But oh was she planning a surprise for that Irishman when she finally decided to let him catch her. Willow was pondering the way life sometimes seemed to come full circle. She'd loved Xander Harris from the time she was a little girl. And though she'd had many other relationships full of love, here she was now, married to the man she'd loved as a child. And nothing had ever been better. Niki watched the other two with a bemused frown. In her book, men were nothing else but a hindrance -- always in the way when you had better, more important things to do. The same could be said for people in general. She only put up with Willow because she was her Watcher. And Xander because he was Willow's husband. Spike was just annoying, and no matter how much she wanted to stake him -- it was her job after all -- Willow wouldn't allow it. Besides, she wouldn't admit it, but Spike still had an edge on her and she didn't want to end up dead if she did try to kill him.
"You know what would be great?" Willow asked suddenly.
Cordelia looked up and brushed her long brown hair over her shoulder. "What?"
The witch smiled. "Wouldn't it just be perfect if we could get Angel and Buffy back together?"
Cordelia looked at her shrewdly. "You know, you might not be as ignorant as you look after all."
***
"You realize you live in a pig sty, right, mate?" Spike commented as he walked around Doyle's kitchen. The girls had gone back to stay with Cordelia, so he and Xander were shacked up with Doyle for the time being. He sniffed a half empty bottle of scotch and nodded, dumping the contents of an old glass and pouring the liquor into it.
"S'better than a sewer, ain't it?" Doyle asked defensively.
Spike took a gulp and sighed as the liquid slid down his throat. Xander sat sulking on the couch, his arms folded defensively over his chest. The boy, as Spike thought of him, had been acting sullen since they'd left Italy. As if Buffy's life and death affected him only. Didn't he know there were larger consequences at stake? He kicked Xander's legs down off of the table and walked in front of him to sit down on the other side of the couch.
"What's up with him?" Doyle nodded to Xander.
"He's just acting like the brat he is," Spike told him. "Thinkin' the world revolves around himself, that the Slayer betrayed him and only him."
"You know," Xander said suddenly, "it's your fault. You could've told someone. It's been nine years, Spike. Did you think no one would care to know the truth?"
"Not after nine years, no. You all were happy thinking she was dead. She was happy being dead. Why should I ruin anyone's happiness?" he asked with a grin.
"You sicken me," Xander said.
Spike flung his hand over his undead heart. "Ohhh! You got me right here!" Growling softly, Spike sat up straight. "You listen here, mate. I'm glad she did it. You know why? Because now she'll be able to show you all just what she's made of. She cared about you all more than you could imagine, and it was her strength and her weakness. Well, now she has a new strength and none of those weaknesses. She'll be better than she ever could have been with you." Leaning back once again, Spike looked at the boy. "Besides, if she'd stuck around Sunnydale, she'd most likely be dead by now," he said nonchalantly. "Is that what you want?"
"Of course it's not what I want!" Xander shouted. "But she could have told us she wanted to leave."
"Would ya have let her, man?"
The air seemed to flow out of Xander in a rush.
"Look, Boy Wonder," Spike began again. "Think of it this way. The Slayer is stronger now than any Slayer ever could be, because they don't live long enough to get her skill and training. Yeah, sure, maybe she's a bit...rougher around the edges now...but look at the good it's done for Angelus. He's growing some, and he won't be such a pansy assed buffoon around her anymore."
"Right," Xander agreed sarcastically. "And just *how* do you expect them to get together when they obviously are at each other's throats. Not that it bothers me. I think things are finally the way they should have been all along."
Spike looked to Doyle and grinned. "Ohhh...I have the feeling the Slayer and her Boy Toy will be spending a lot more time together in the near future...."
***
"This...is...." She jumped off the back of the couch and leveled a powerful kick to his chest, sending him flying backwards into the kitchen. "Really...a...." Heaving him up by the collar of his shirt, she spun around and knocked him face forward into the wall. He slumped a bit and she let him go. As he fell to his knees, she hooked her arm beneath his and sweeped outwards, sending him sliding across the floor. He climbed to his feet, but she was there. "Nice. Place," she finished, emphasizing each word with a punch to his face.
Angel rose up on his hands and knees, his game face present as he snarled at her. They'd been "training" in his old apartment for the past week. Every night she'd come over and sweep the floor with his ass. She was an amazing fighter, though deep inside he thought maybe it wasn't really training, but a way for her to beat him up with an excuse. "Enough," he growled softly.
"Enough?" Anne laughed. "It's never enough, Angel. Now get up."
Rising again, Angel lunged for her, but she ducked and used his momentum to toss him over her shoulder. "You've gotten soft, Angel," she taunted.
He stared up at the ceiling, remaining on his back where he'd landed. "I think you've just gotten better, Buff." He'd taken to calling her that because it was one of the few things he was able to do that seemed to rile her in the least. Anne stood over him, her hands on her hips. From the position he was in, her legs seemed longer and firmer and tanner than ever. Her blue shorts were exactly that, short. And a bit loose too, he thought as he stared up. And the white cotton of her tank top seemed to mold itself to her body. All of his muscles were screaming at him, and despite his vow to keep his distance, Angel began fantasizing about what it would be like to have her soft breasts pillowing his head once more, her small hands caressing him gently instead of inflicting pain.
"Yeah, well, I've had plenty of time to practice," she said, pulling him up. They moved back into the living room where they had a mat set out. He thought it was a quite useless precaution when she had the habit of moving the fight to whatever location she deemed torturous enough.
"Oh really? And why's that?" he asked carelessly. As he did, he reached out swiftly and caught her around the neck. He pulled her in and tightened his forearm against her throat, cutting off her air.
Anne hooked her foot behind his leg and tripped him, sending them both falling backwards. Angel instantly released her and tried to cushion her fall with his body. She rolled away immediately and jumped up, straddling him as she stood above him. The tip of a discarded wooden walking stick that she'd whittled to a point was pressed into his chest. "You're dead," she said without inflection. Tossing the wood aside, she walked away to grab a bottle of water. "Rule number one, Angel: no mercy. You should have broken my neck when you had the chance. You hesitate, you die. End of story." Setting the bottle down, Anne dropped to her knees just in time to feel the breeze above her head as Angel made a grab for her. She executed a precise sweep kick, again knocking his feet from under him. She jumped up as he began to fall and caught him, only to throw him onto the mat. They faced off, eyeing each other as they would a deadly opponent.
"What's it gonna take to get you ready, huh, Angel?" she asked breathlessly as they moved on the mat, each wary of attack. Taking the initiative, she surged forward and kicked him high in the side, the force of her strike cracking a few ribs. He growled lowly, trying to keep restraint on himself, and flung her to the side. Anne hit the side of the couch, but instantly bounced back. She saw how he was holding his side and drove her fist hard and deep into his other side. His arm moved and she stuck out again on his broken ribs. "Rule two: why not strike where it hurts? Come on, Angel," she continued to taunt as he fell to the floor. "Join in...we both know you're familiar with these rules."
Angel closed his eyes and willed the pain to go away. "Time out," he snarled, his fists clenching in the thick foam of the mat.
"Time out?" Anne scoffed. "Oh please, Angel. I don't think you should. It's quite obvious you need all the practice you can get."
"Why?" Angel grit out. "So I can be a cold-blooded murderer like you?"
"No. That'd be your old area of expertise," she murmured silkily.
Angel growled and stared at her malevolently. Slowly he climbed to his feet, his demonic fury plain on his face.
"Oh yeah, there's my boy. Now let's see what you've really got stored up in that massive body of yours."
Angel stalked around her, his sense evaluating her position. He didn't want to hurt her, not really, but on some level, he'd had enough. Enough of her lies, enough of her taunts and jests at his expense, enough of not being able to touch her the way he still dreamed about. Reaching up, her ripped his shirt off, balled it up and threw it into a nameless corner. The cloth was a hindrance to him, and served as the last shred of "decency" he had. He smiled as she tried to attack, blocking each move before she was fully aware of what he was doing. In fact, she seemed to be getting sloppy, tired and sore muscles beginning to kick in, as well as her annoyance with him.
Anne watched his every move, spellbound. Yes, *this* was the Angel she remembered, lithe and graceful, sleek and powerful. A virtual wealth of untapped potential. Everything up to this breaking point had been him fucking with her. She knew it, he knew it, and now...now it was time to get down to business. It created a certain pride within.
Angel feigned a jab to her shoulder, and as she tilted her body to adjust for the blow, he kicked the leg that held most of her weight, out from under her. She landed with a hard thud and rolled to the side. However, predicting her move, he scooped her up with one hand and flung her across the room. Anne hit the wall and fell to her knees. As Angel watched her, all of the hate and bitterness he'd directed towards her welled up and he lost control. He strode towards her and grabbed her harshly, only to drag her back onto the mat. He dropped her unceremoniously in the middle and ordered her to get up. He reached down for her again, but she grabbed his arm and twisted, dislocating his shoulder.
"I'm sorry. Did I do that?" she asked innocently. Jumping to her feet, she caught his wrist. "I'm so sorry. Let me fix it for you," she said as she painfully popped it back into place. His free hand wound in her hair and he pulled her away from him, tilting her head back. Anne looked up at him. "Uh, uh, uh. No fangs, love. Those aren't in the rules."
"No mercy," he reminded her softly as he lowered his head.
"Mmmm. You've got a point," she conceded right before she stomped on his foot. "Feels good, doesn't it? Losing control...." He stumbled back in surprise, letting her go. She leveled a spin kick to his back and he fell forwards onto his hands and knees. Burying her fingers in his hair, she jerked him backwards. As he landed on his back, Angel found himself held to the mat. Anne was straddling him, her knees hooked around his thighs to make sure he didn't move his legs, her arms were pinning his own above his head and everything in between was pressed flush against his body.
It was the most torturous thing she'd tried yet. His features slowly morphed back to normal as he looked up at her, her warm breath fluttering over his cheek as she bowed her head. She stretched against him, letting him feel her every curve rub against his hard body.
"See," she whispered, her lips hovering above his. "I'm the best at what I do."
Angel swallowed and tried to focus on the ceiling above instead of on her wide, clear hazel eyes. He willed his old anger to come back, but felt empty, as if their fight had drained him. "And what exactly is it that you do?" he questioned quietly. "Kill people? Murder? Torture? Clean up the messes other people leave behind? Destroy lives?"
Anne looked down at him for a moment before hopping to her feet. She paced restlessly back and forth over the mat. "You know," she began heatedly. "There are other evils in this world than the ones your Hell decides to regurgitate onto the Earth."
Angel leaned up on his arms, wincing at the soreness, and looked at her dubiously. "You used to be so good, so pure, so...light, Buffy. You were redemption, my hope. I had faith in you. And now...look at you...you're nothing better than a hit-man for an institution you know virtually nothing about."
Anne laughed and leaned against the arm of the couch, watching him.
Angel shook his head. "What happened to the 'Don't kill humans' rule?"
"I thought you knew. That went out with the trash years ago..." she commented sarcastically, though Angel thought he heard an undertone of pain. He supposed she was referring to Faith's death that had been indirectly caused by Buffy's attempt on her life. She sobered and gazed at Angel, the look in her eyes unreadable. "I've killed many," she admitted. "But I don't regret it, I assure you."
Disgust filled him. For what she was, for what he'd been, and for how much alike the two seemed. "When exactly did you lose your soul?" he asked.
Her gaze was steady on him, and this time Angel couldn't deny what he saw there: anger, hate, sadness, pain.... Anne stood up slowly and walked to where he was still resting on the mat. Her voice was deadly quiet when she finally spoke. "When you can let a man who makes a living from selling children into slavery walk free, maybe I'll regret. When you can live with the fact that a man who abducts women, rapes them, mutilates their bodies...and then puts them up for display in his own twisted "art gallery"...actually exists, maybe I'll regret." She took a deep breath, her voice getting louder and more impassioned. "When you don't care that an entire third world country is being fed mind altering narcs by its own government in order to turn the people into mindless slaves, MAYBE I'll regret. But until then, don't fuck with me or what I do."
With that, Anne gathered her bag of clothes and stalked out of his apartment, leaving Angel to stare after her.
***
Doyle stepped into Angel's office and switched the lights on. As brightness washed over the dark interior of the room, he noticed, with much surprise, the two bundles wrapped up on the couch. He walked to the large black leather piece and kneeled down, shaking Kate. She awoke with a soft sigh and opened her eyes.
"Doyle," she greeted him, yawning. "What are you doing here?"
"I was just about to ask you da same thing," he told her. "What's goin' on?"
Kate sat up, making sure Myrna was still asleep. "I came here because I wanted to see Angel," she said.
"Yeah, well, he's not here."
She rubbed her eyes and stood up. "Do you know where he is?" she asked. "I wanted...I wanted to apologize to him. I don't know if you've heard or not, but we had a fight and I left him. I just...I realize know I probably overreacted."
Doyle nodded. "Yeah. Angel tol' me. Ya've been okay, right?"
Kate nodded. "Uh huh. Can't get me down, you know?" She laughed nervously and looked at him. "So...where is he? I...I know he's not at the apartment. Most of his things were gone when I went back."
Doyle averted his gaze and sat down on the edge of his desk. "Right. Well, uhhh, Angel...he had ta go on a...on a business trip."
Kate threw him an odd glance. "What kind of business trip? Is he working on a case? Maybe I can help, we work together a lot of the time."
Doyle opened his mouth, but shut it again. Taking a deep breath, he shrugged. "Uhhh...no. In fact, I'm no' really sure what it is he's workin' on."
"Well...do you know when he'll be back?"
He shook his head. "Nope."
Kate looked around, beginning to get exasperated. "Do you know where he went then?"
Doyle looked down at his hands and then back up at her. His gaze told her he knew exactly what Angel was doing, but that he wasn't at liberty to tell her.
"Okay then. Did he go with anyone?" she asked, her voice cool.
Again Doyle didn't answer. He could see the anger on her face and couldn't help but think she deserved at least a few answers. But Angel had said no. He didn't want Kate to get involved.
Kate nodded. "It was Buffy, wasn't it?" At Doyle's guilty look, she demanded to know where they had gone. When he again refused to answer her, she pulled the gun out of her purse and laughed. "I really don't want to hurt you. Especially not in front of Myrna. But I will shoot you if you don't me where he went, right now." The look in her eyes was wild and Doyle could tell she meant it. Maybe she wouldn't kill him, but a bullet would really hurt.
"New York," Doyle blurted out. "But don' follow him, Kate. 'S too dangerous."
Kate shook her head. "You don't understand, Doyle. Angel is mine. I won't let her take him away from me, not after all these years." Scooping up Myrna, Kate left the office.
Doyle let out a pent up breath and picked up the phone. If Kate was stupid enough to fly to New York, the others needed to know. He really didn't have a good feeling about this anymore.
***
"We don't have a choice," Willow said.
"Let's not be too hasty. I personally don't relish the idea of standing in the line of fire while we chase after a group of people who are obviously too selfish to even consider the other people around them."
"Willow's right, Xander," Giles said. "We don't have a choice. When it was just Buffy and Angel, well, I have the feeling they can take care of themselves. But now there are more people involved, one being an innocent little girl. We can't take it for granted that no one will get hurt. From what Doyle's said, this group is potentially very evil."
"So now we're taking advice from an Irish demon?" Xander asked.
"Excuse me," Cordelia interrupted. "When it comes to lifeforms, I don't think you have any room to talk, Xander Harris. I've seen the way you live. And he's only half-demon."
"Yeah, that makes all the difference," Xander muttered.
"I oughtta -"
Cordelia placed a hand on Doyle's shoulder and he calmed down.
"I didn't trust this from the beginning," Joyce said. "It's been over a week and I still haven't seen my daughter. And now Angel has her again...I just don't trust him. It's because of him -"
Giles frowned and wrapped his arm around her shoulders. "Joy - ahhh...Mrs. Summers - I don't think we can blame Angel at this point. If Buffy had wanted to see us, she would have. Perhaps she's just not ready yet, and we have to...to respect that."
"Respect that?!? I thought she was dead, Rupert. There's no excuse for her not letting me know she's okay."
Spike cleared his throat. "If I may, Joyce, luv...the Slayer's got her own problems to deal with right now. And I think enough time has passed for her to evaluate her life...I wouldn't doubt it if she held quite a bit against the lot of you. Maybe it's unfounded, but if she'd been happy, she never would have run."
"I've never done anything for her to hold against me, Spike."
Spike arched a brow and looked calmly at her, challenging her to disagree again. "Come now, luv. We both know you played a part in convincing Angelus to leave Sunnydale."
Shocked gasps came from Willow and Cordelia as they looked to Buffy's mother.
"I - I - I only did what was best for my daughter," Joyce defended herself.
"Maybe," Spike drawled. "Either way, it's probably not the way the Slayer saw it."
"She didn't even know -"
"She knew."
"How?"
Spike shrugged. He wasn't gonna tell her he'd told the Slayer that himself. Not if he ever wanted her tiny marshmallows again. "Don't know. But she figured it out, and she wasn't a very happy Slayer."
Joyce's shoulders sagged in defeat. "She must hate me," she whispered.
"Now, Joyce, don't do this. She probably has forgotten all about that, so much time has passed," Giles tried to comfort her.
"We have to go to New York," Cordelia said plainly. "There's no telling what trouble Kate will cause if she finds them."
"Not that your decision has anything to do with Fifth Avenue, right Cor?"
She smiled sweetly. "You know, if you weren't married to Willow, I'd really enjoy tearing your -"
"Alrighty then," Doyle interrupted. "Who's gonna make the flight reservations?"
"Remember, we have to fly at night," Spike reminded them.
"I really don't see the necessity for that," Niki commented, speaking up for the first time. The bored look on her face made it plain to see that she wasn't joking. "In fact, I don't think we should be getting involved at all, but it's your lives. This is not the duty I understood a Slayer to have."
Xander groaned. "The duty of a Slayer is to protect the world and fight evil. Angel's evil. I'll give you a cookie if you stake him," he tried to bribe her.
Niki watched him dispassionately.
"You know, no one can deliver that line like Buffy," he sighed.
"Great," Cordelia beamed. "Big Apple, here I come."
***
Anne stood center front of the Council conference room. Angel was sitting in her chair and she had her hands braced on the back of the soft leather. "Agents, I'd like to introduce you to our newest recruit, Mr. Angel McKiernan."
Angel nodded at the people seated around the large, oak table. He felt out of place, but saw how much Buffy fit in here. There was a light in these people's eyes, much like the one that had put him on edge when he'd first seen her again. Unnatural, maybe. Disturbing, definitely. And those eyes were all trained on him. For a man who liked his isolation, this was torture. He felt as if he was about to be dissected.
"Welcome to the Agency, Mr. McKiernan," Elder Agent Thompson greeted him. "We're all extremely pleased to have you here."
Angel arched a brow at her, but said nothing. He was here to learn -- for Doyle, he reminded himself -- not to be cordial to this group of soulless beings. Of course, that thought brought back the recollections of his "fight" with Buffy. She hadn't spoken to him since, except to order him around, and even then she was terse. She wouldn't answer his questions, and that led him to think she was hiding something. Or maybe she was just very pissed at him, he didn't know. What he did know was that having a seemingly emotionless, silent Buffy was worse than a seemingly emotionless, verbose Buffy.
Agent Kristen Thompson cleared her throat and glanced up at Anne. She had expected the male to be completely immersed in the Agency by now. Obviously he was there against his will, and that invited trouble. "Mr. McKiernan," she tried again. "Have you been apprised of your situation here?"
"We only just arrived, Agent Thompson," Anne interjected. "Mr. McKiernan has neither been enlightened of his duties here, nor has he had time to explore the base. With consideration to the Agency, I thought it best to keep details to a minimum until his position has been approved."
"HIS position was never in doubt, Agent Summers," Krylich said with a smirk. Anne's gaze seemed to go right through him, causing him to repress a shudder. They didn't come any colder than her.
Looking back over the room, Anne nodded to dim the lights as she began her presentation. The three dimensional holographic booth rose from the center of the table, it's image forming immediately. "This is Carlton Moore. Thirty-eight years old, six foot three, one hundred and ninety-two pounds, blue eyes, black hair, type O blood. He's a weapons expert for our sister op, the Infantry. On his off time, Mr. Moore enjoys long walks on the beach, romantic comedies, poker...and shipping illegal arms and biological weapons to our enemies. He's been under surveillance from my team for the past six months." She flipped through the next images, each depicting goods being delivered to various people in various countries. "We've documented ten transactions, each followed by an investment of sixty-million dollars or more into a Swiss bank account that can be traced back to our Mr. Moore. That's a lot of money, Agents. Which leads me to believe that Mr. Moore isn't working alone."
"What, can't he be greedy, Agent Summers?" Krylich joked.
"Oh, I'm sure he could be, Agent Krylich. However, statistically speaking, a man his age working in covert ops for an international government will never be able to spend sixty-million dollars, let alone six hundred million, without drawing attention to himself. Luckily for us, we noticed the activity before he and his accomplices completed their business."
"I admit, this is fascinating," Krylich commented snidely, "but what does illegal munitions trade have to do with the Agency? Things like this happen everyday. You have to admit, it's not the kind of activity we usually deal with."
Anne looked at him, leaning over the table and bracing her hands on the smooth, glossy oak. "What about this *doesn't* involve us, Agent?" she shot back. "He works for the Infantry, which endangers our whole operation. He's dealing to *our* enemies. Correct me if I'm wrong, but that implies an alliance is being formed against us. If you'll kindly remember, just last month Agent Lau's team was assassinated while on assignment in China. I do believe," she said smoothly, "that it's possible the investigation into the bombing was...a little less than complete."
"Do you remember who performed the investigation, Agent?" Krylich asked menacingly.
Anne smiled and stood up straight. "How could I forget, Agent Krylich?"
"Are you saying my work is sloppy?"
Anne shrugged casually. "All I'm saying is that I think we could have found a lot more out in China than we actually did."
"It was a freak occurrence, Summers. Now stand down."
"Or what?" Anne asked. "You came up empty handed. That's inexcusable in my book. Those were good men and I won't have their deaths signed off as a fluke when we all know that's not what it was. Now, maybe you can live in oblivion, but in my opinion, the Agency can take this as a declaration of war. I won't stand by, playing with myself, while an unknown number of people are out there raising arms against us." She flipped the switch and the image of a large renovated warehouse rose above the table. "This is the Infantry's base in London. Moore is stationed here and Mr. McKiernan and I will be taking the trip at the end of the week. Until then, I am in charge of his training. He will eat, sleep and breathe only when I say. If you wish to speak with him, I am available to schedule a meeting. Interfere with me, and you'll regret it." She nodded and the lights brightened.
Angel sat quietly, watching her. This Krylich man obviously struck a nerve inside her. Perhaps he'd enlighten Angel as to a weak link within Buffy. She obviously planned to keep him on a short leash, but he had no doubt that he'd be able to escape her for a moment or two. The first thing he'd do was speak to this agent.
***
Her heels clicked loudly on the marble floored corridor. Angel looked down on her and couldn't stop the small rush of desire. He'd never seen Buffy this way...she could really almost be a completely different physical entity. Her golden hair was pulled back into a sleek chignon without a hair out of place. Small wire-rimmed glasses perched atop the bridge of her nose, lending a studious air to her beautiful face. Her make-up was at a minimum, though there was a natural flush heightening the color in her cheeks. He wondered if it was because of him or her argument with Agent Krylich. The inky black of her suit jacket fitted itself to her curves, flaring out slightly over the tight knee length matching skirt. She looked...professional...but damn sexy. She was a woman. A tight feeling enveloped his chest as he realized he'd missed watching her flourish into the woman she was. Shaking his head slightly, he banished the thoughts.
Anne opened her small black binder and withdrew a credit card sized pass key and swiped it through the lock. Swinging open the door, she moved to the side, motioning him in. Angel stepped inside the sparse room and sighed. It wasn't the worst he'd ever been in, but it definitely wasn't homey. There was no window, though she could have arranged for that due to his...allergy to sunlight...but it closed the room in significantly. Otherwise, it was a square room, approximately thirteen by thirteen feet, with two doors on the left wall. He assumed one was a bathroom and the other a closet. An unpretentious single bed was situated in the middle of the far wall and had a night table and lamp on each side. Along the right wall was a dresser and a small television. It was rather motel-like, but...blander. The walls, ceiling and the carpet were all a sterile white.
"These are your quarters. Shower and closet on the left. Bed...television...dresser...." She sighed and closed the door behind her. "I arranged...there's a small, fully stocked bookshelf in the closet. All clothing is commissioned and your wardrobe has already been delivered. I'm..." she looked at him and nodded towards the bathroom. "I need you to change."
Angel gazed at her before turning to the closet and withdrawing a suit and shirt. He turned to walk to the bathroom, but she cleared her throat. He arched a brow and she nodded to the dresser.
"I have to take...*all*...your clothes."
Angel shook his head and walked to the dresser, withdrawing a pair of boxers and trouser socks. His countenance was stormy as he closed the bathroom door behind him, the only saving thought being that she seemed to be more uncomfortable with the situation than he was. He stripped bare and put on the clothes, vaguely surprised at the nice fit. When he stepped out of the bathroom, he looked the perfect counterpart to her -- crisp white shirt beneath a sable black jacket that hugged his broad shoulder and tapered at his lean waist. The pants hung perfectly. The only thing he was missing was...shoes.
"In the closet, boxes are on the top shelf," Anne told him as he walked out.
He set his clothes on the bed and moved to the closet once more. As he slipped his shoes on, he turned and looked at her. "What? No compliments?" he asked.
Anne smiled slightly. "I picked ordered them myself, Angel. I knew they'd look good on you."
Angel arched a brow and turned his head. As he did, his gaze settled on a book resting on top of the small bookshelf, as if someone had removed it and not put it back in place. Picking it up, he read the spine. "'Maxims'," he commented. "La Rochefoucauld. Heavy reading, huh?"
Her smile spread. "Dunno. It struck me as something you might read...might have read...."
Angel nodded with his own grin, finding himself instantly responding to her subdued attitude. "Yeah...a couple of times. But hey," he said, putting the book back in it's rightful place. "We all need reminders every now and then, right?" He closed the closet door and picked up his clothes, handing them to her. "Will I be getting these back?"
Anne nodded. "Once they've been checked out, they'll be brought back to you. So...is everything fine here?"
Angel smirked. "You mean besides the caged animal atmosphere?"
"You're not a prisoner here, Angel," she said, frowning. "You can come and go as you please, as long as you don't interrupt our time. I...I won't be as hard on you as implied, I just -"
"Was putting on a show for Krylich?" Angel finished.
With a small smile, she nodded briefly. "With him, you have to establish your power as early as possible. I'm not here to come down on you, but if anyone pushes me, I will. That includes Krylich...includes you." She reached into her binder and pulled out a schedule card. "Here," she said. "This has your times for meals, training and sleep for the next week. I advise you follow it strictly." He took the card and set it on the dresser. "Our first training session will be in two hours. You'll find the PT clothes in your dresser." She turned to go and stopped. "Oh. I almost forgot...."
Angel folded his arms over his chest and looked at her.
"I uhhh...I'm going to need your...your jewelry too," she said, pointing to his chain.
Angel held her gaze for a long moment before slowly reaching back and unhooking the chain. He held out his hand and dropped the silver into her open palm. As he did so, Anne's gaze fell to the ring on his finger. Her entire body tensed as they stood there, silent and still. After what seemed like forever, Angel removed the ring and held it between his fingers, as if daring her to take it. Anne lifted her eyes to his in a battle of wills. Even in the dim light of the room, the silver heart and crown seemed to glint happily. She reached out and snatched the ring from his grasp and opened the door. His quiet voice stopped her.
"I may have to work with you, Buffy. But that doesn't mean I've forgiven you."
Anne hovered in the doorway. She wanted to just walk away, to forget everything, but his mere presence brought back memories and feelings long gone. She looked over her shoulder at him. He looked so...foreign...in the Agency garb. It was unnatural. It wasn't Angel. And she'd done this to him. "You misjudge me, Angel," she said softly, lifting her gaze once more to his. "I don't want your forgiveness." She shut the door silently behind her, the echo of her heels down the hallway sounding in his ears.
Angel ran his fingers through his hair and sat down on the bed. Propping his elbows up on his knees, Angel rested his head in his hands. This wasn't the way things were supposed to be. He was supposed to be in LA with Kate and Myrna and Doyle and Cordelia. He laughed at himself while a tiny voice in his head disagreed. He was supposed to be in Sunnydale with Buffy and her Slayerettes, fighting the demons of the Hellmouth and loving the Slayer he was born for. This entire situation was a mockery of their past relationship. And what had provoked him to tell her he hadn't forgiven her? He was bitter, yes. Angry, of course. But that didn't change the facts. And the facts were he'd forgive her for anything, as long as she let him.
But that was the point. She wouldn't let him.
A knock sounded on the door before it opened and Agent Krylich stepped in.
Angel stood up. "I thought the door was locked."
"It was," Krylich said, smiling congenially. He held up a small card. "Think of it as a skeleton key." He looked around and whistled. "Wow. Summers sure is keeping you on restriction, isn't she? No computer, no desk, no chair? What does she expect to make of you?"
"I think she's more interested in training me in the physical aspect of the mission," Angel said coolly.
Krylich held up his hands. "Hey, hey. I know how it can be with women. Especially that one. Man, is she frigid or what? Colder than ice, in my book. Of course, there was a time when she was hotter than Hell too, but you know how that goes," he said, grinning lewdly.
Angel clenched his fists at his side and smiled slightly. "Is there something you needed, Agent Krylich?" he asked calmly.
"Not for me, no," Krylich said slowly, perching on the edge of the dresser. "Look, Angel...may I call you Angel?" At his nod of consent, Krylich continued. "It's important to align yourself with the right people early on in the game. In fact, some would say it's imperative for survival. You know what that's like, don't you, Mr. McKiernan? To have to fight for existence. In a world that...doesn't quite seem the same as it was before you were...recruited? It's a strange battle we fight, Angel. And power is the key...wouldn't you agree?"
Angel watched the man in front of him, a bitter taste in his mouth. Was it possible he knew what Angel was? It certainly seemed like it. But more than that, there was a vibe about the agent that didn't settle well with Angel. "I'm sure power is necessary for many things, Agent," Angel agreed vaguely.
Agent Krylich smiled and nodded as he stood up. "I'm glad we see things eye to eye. I will warn you...Summers...she's not the right 'people' for you and me." He handed Angel a copy of his schedule card. "Here. This is my schedule card. If you ever...want to talk...I'm sure you'll be able to find me." He laughed shortly. "All you have to do is remove yourself from Summers' shadow."
***
"I don't know how we're supposed to get those two together when we can't even find them," Cordelia griped as she stood in the dressing room of Saks 5th Ave. "I mean…." She poked her head out and nodded to Willow, "Hey, zip me, will ya?" She stepped out of the room and looked in the mirror, assessing the slim silk dress. It was a vibrant blue that off set her tan and clung to her shapely body. "Oh yes. I do like this." Seeing Willow and Niki's bored looks, she sighed. "Okay. Where was I? Right. New York is a big city, you know. And we have no idea where to even start looking for them." She paused as Willow unzipped the dress and she slipped back into the dressing room. "And as for Crazy Cop Lady, it's just a matter of time before something bad happens." Cordelia brushed her hair back over her shoulder and contemplated what to try on next. Picking out a classy white skirt suit, she continued. "So all we know is that Buffy and Angel are in New York. Kate flew here three days ago and now we're on a wild goose chase with nowhere to start." She stepped back out and looked at the women. "What are we doing?"
"Watching you try on clothes?" Willow piped up helpfully.
Cordelia rolled her eyes. "I meant…what are we doing in New York? How did we think we could possibly find them? Buffy's been dead for nine years and we never found her, so why should we be able to find her now?"
"I thought you were all for coming to New York," Willow said. "And how can you say that? We know for a fact she's alive. How can we not try to find her?"
"I'm just glad someone's coming to their senses. This is a useless fight. We should all go back to Sunnydale where we can protect the Hellmouth. Did anyone think about that?" Niki asked.
"Whatever," Cordelia snapped as she looked at herself critically. "I dunno…I think it's too…." She shook her head and locked herself in once again. "Maybe the guys are having better luck," she said hopefully.
"Okay, for once I'm going to take the Cordelia side of the fence and point out that Xander's working with them. Number one, I don't know that he really wants to find them and number two, he's not the best at detective work."
"True as that is, it doesn't negate the fact that Doyle and Spike are pretty useful when necessary. So there's a chance." She picked up the blue dress and walked out to the counter. Laying it carefully on the surface, she smiled at the sales clerk and laid her credit card on the counter. Turning back to her companions, she shook her head. "You know, it's almost fall fashion time. It wouldn't hurt if you two picked up a few new things."
Niki rolled her eyes. "This is *such* a waste of my time," she grumbled.
"Now, now," the sales representative said. "It's never a waste of time to begin planning your seasonal wardrobe. And you have such nice coloring, I'm sure we can find something to start you off with. And maybe a makeover to do something about that dry skin? Your pores are practically screaming for attention."
Cordelia beamed at the young woman. "Finally! Someone who understands my pain." She signed the bill and lifted the dress into her arms. "You think Doyle will like this?" she asked Willow.
Willow grinned. "Any man with eyes in his head would like that, Cordelia."
Cordelia nodded. "Well of course," she said as if it was nothing out of the ordinary. "But what about Doyle?"
Willow shook her head and headed to the exit of the store. "I'm sure Doyle would like you in…or out of…anything, Cordelia."
"Good idea," she murmured as she pulled Niki behind her.
As they stepped out onto the street, Willow halted. "Oh, I think I forgot -" she said as she turned to go back in, but her sentence was cut off when she bumped into Kate.
"Well, well, well," Cordelia muttered. "Look what the cat dragged out."
Kate grimaced and tried to move past the trio, but Cordelia blocked her way. "Now, now, Kate. What's the hurry? Have another group of people to spy on?"
"I wasn't spying on you," Kate said. "I have better things to do than watch you try on clothes."
"Ewww! How did you know I was trying on clothes? God that makes my skin crawl…were you watching me?"
"I told you -"
Willow plucked her pocketbook from the woman's grasp. "Then why'd you have this? I left it in the dressing room."
"I saw you leave it and was bringing it out to you," Kate told her calmly.
"You don't even know who I am. How did you expect to find me if you weren't following us?"
"I saw you with Cordelia. I figured I'd be able to spot her bad dye job anywhere."
Cordelia muffled a shriek. "I do not have a bad dye job! Excuse me if I'm not the one trapped in the 80's."
"What do you really want?" Willow asked, losing patience.
Kate eyed her for a moment. "I want to know where Angel is," she told her.
Willow arched a brow. "Obviously you weren't eavesdropping hard enough. We don't know where he is either."
"If you come with us, maybe those guys have some news - Oof!" Niki broke off as Cordelia elbowed her.
"Don't listen to her. She's new. Doesn't really speak English well. We have no idea where Angel could be. Probably got hitched and is on his honeymoon as we speak," Cordelia bluffed with a smile.
Kate glared at the tall woman. "I will find him, Cordelia."
Cordelia laughed. "Does it really matter? We find him, you find him, it doesn't make a difference. He'll still be with Buffy."
***
Spike sauntered into the guys' hotel suite and slammed the door loudly, causing the three inside to turn and see who was making such a commotion.
"Oh. It's just you," Xander said sourly and turned back to their card game.
Spike arched a brow. "It's good to see we're all getting down to business."
Xander nodded to Doyle and put down two cards. "Well, if Demon Boy here would hurry up and have a vision, maybe we wouldn't be sitting on our asses in this swanky hotel room and playing 'Go Fish'."
"Angel'll be reinbursin' us, don' worry. 'Sides, he's got a bank full o' money, thanks to Cordy's financial expertise. Did ya know she's not all about shopping? Quite resourceful, she is."
Giles sighed and tapped his card on the table. "Do you have a two?"
Doyle shook his head and slid the stack of cards closer to Giles. Turning back to Spike, he shrugged. "So what 'bout you? Didja find anything?"
"Maybe I did," Spike said as he walked to the mini-bar and took out a small bottle of vodka. "Does that mean I'll share it with you? Probably not."
"Look, man. If you've found out anyt'in' about Angel, ya gotta tell us. I can't take another hour of..." he nodded in Xander's direction and Spike smirked.
"Welcome to my unholy world," he murmured, draining the bottle in one swallow. "Come on. I've got something to show you." He threw the bottle in the trash basket and walked to the door, stuffing his hands
in the pockets of his duster.
Doyle slammed his cards down on the table and strode to the door, picking up his jacket as he moved. "Come on, you two. We don' have all night, ya know."
Spike looked disgustedly at the trio and stalked out of the room, not waiting for them. The elevator door was just about to close when the group stepped in.
"So what'd ya find?" Xander asked, shrugging into his sweater.
"Maybe nothing," Spike said vaguely. Giles cleared his throat expectantly and Spike growled. "Okay, fine. I followed some leads to this old area on the outskirts of the city. Practically worn down -- no one but
druggies and run aways, you know? Perfect place for a few old friends of mine to stay, if you know what I mean." He grinned, but when the other guys just looked at him, he continued. "Anyway. At first it seemed like nothing, but then I noticed it had pretty heavy security for being nothing. Not the uniformed obvious type, but you learn how to tell the difference. These guys were definitely on the look out. So I called in a few favors. Thought I'd sneak inside, check and see what's around."
The four of them hailed a taxi and Spike directed the driver to the area. Spike watched the man from his seat in the front of the cab -- he hadn't wanted the guy to freak when he had no reflection in the
rearview mirror -- and saw the way he paled at the mention of the rundown district. As soon as the four stepped out of the car and paid their fare, the driver sped away.
"That wasn't too promising," Xander said slowly. "And somehow, I don't think we'll be catching a ride back."
"Maybe we won't have to," Giles murmured, heading down the street. There was a light in the distance
with loud rock music blaring from the inside.
"No," Spike said, stopping Giles with a hand on his shoulder. "This way," he said, nodding in the opposite direction.
Giles took one last look at the nightclub and turned. He couldn't explain it, but there was a feeling surrounding the place. He wanted to find out what it was, but Spike insisted on heading down the dark end of the street.
Doyle watched the buildings pass, an eerie feeling washing over him as movements seem to shadow in the darkened windows. He could swear they were being watched, but by whom?
The road dead-ended at a rusty chain link fence that Spike easily broke open. The group filed in quietly. There was only one building in front of them and it looked like an abandoned warehouse. Old, rusty
trucks were still in the loading area. Whatever or whoever had been here was long gone. Spike walked up to the garage type door and lifted it, a noisy squeal coming from the unoiled mechanisms.
"Good one," Xander muttered. "Let's just ring a cowbell and call the rats home for dinner so they can eat us alive."
"Speak for yourself," Spike replied with a grin.
Xander shuddered visibly and Spike chuckled. But walking inside, he cursed lowly. The place had obviously been some sort of factory once, but now it was deserted, cobwebs and dust covering all of the old
machinery. "Fuck," he breathed, turning around. "This just doesn't make any sense."
"I agree. Why would there be a lot of security if there's nothing to guard?" Giles asked.
Doyle ran a fingertip over a large pipe, stirring the dust and unsettling a large spider he hadn't seen before. "Ugh," he squeaked and jumped away, bumping into Xander, who in turn knocked Spike to the floor. A cloud of dust rose around the vampire, who fell into a loud coughing fit, out of habit.
"I'm gonna kill you," Spike threatened, choking.
"You don't even breathe," Xander pointed out, backing away from him despite his show of bravery.
Spike rose up onto his knees and flinched as something dug into his knees. He stood over and bent down, his fingers wiping away the dirt and grime from the floor.
"What is it?" Giles questioned, bending down to take a closer look.
"Looks like a -" Wrapping both hands around the iron handle, Spike pulled with all of his strength, straining against the stuck metal. He landed flat on his ass as the small panel lifted. "Door," he grunted.
All four men peered down into the small, opening. It measured about two feet by two feet and a white ladder attached to one of the white walls traveled, they could only assume, to the end of the tunnel. A bright white light illuminated the small space, but they couldn't tell where it was coming from.
Spike stood up and motioned to the ladder. "Ladies first."
To be continued....
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