Part 4 – Hyperion Hotel
“So, Wesley. How long does this vision stuff usually take to fix?”
Xander stood near Wesley’s desk, hovering at the older man’s elbow. Welsey let out a long-suffering sigh, pulling off his glasses and leaning back in his chair. He looked longingly at the book in front of him. He desperately wanted to continue his research. The information Willow had brought with her held significant promise, but he kept getting interrupted by a very nervous Xander.
The Sunnydale crew had stormed into the hotel twenty minutes earlier, streaming into the lobby like a group of determined commandos on assignment. With barely a terse hello, Giles acted the part of the hardened field commander with ease. He ordered Xander, Anya, and Willow to stay put, and took a very fragile-looking Buffy and a harried Spike with him. At Wesley’s demand for an explanation, Giles only said that they didn’t have time; Willow would fill him in.
Gunn had only raised an eyebrow and shared a meaningful look with Wesley as the threesome stormed out the door, then grabbed his favorite battle axe and took off after them.
Willow had explained about Buffy’s vision and their hasty departure from Sunnydale, but it was her findings in the ancient book that had really gotten Wesley going. Now, it was all he could do to keep from knocking Xander out, just so he could get some work done.
“It doesn’t take that long, Xander, but I suppose things may be different this time.”
Xander nodded, a frown still creasing his face as he began pacing in front of Wesley’s desk. “I’m just so worried about Buffy. She looks so fragile.”
He stopped directly in front of Wesley and put his hands on the desk, leaning over into the former watcher’s face. “Don’t you think she looks fragile?”
The worry in Xander’s voice should’ve sparked empathy in Wesley’s heart, but all it ignited was a near-furious annoyance.
“She’s going to be fragile permanently, maybe dead, if you don’t leave me bloody well alone and let me research!” Wesley nearly shouted, his face darkening with anger.
Xander jumped back, his hands raised. “Geez, somebody’s been hanging around deadboy for too long. Looks like the bad mood is catchy.”
Willow frowned at her friend from the doorway. She crossed over to him and placed a hand on his shoulder.
“Xan, we’re all worried about Buffy.” She caught a grimace and rolled eyes from Wesley out of the corner of her eye, and quickly added, “and Cordelia, too. But Wesley’s right. We have to let him work in peace.”
“Yeah, but Wills—”
“Besides,” Willow interrupted. “Anya’s been looking for you. She’s kinda upset about something.”
There was absolutely nothing wrong with the unflappable ex-demon, but Willow felt that a little white lie was more than acceptable to prevent bloodshed. After looking in on Wesley and Xander and catching the major frustrated vibes coming off Wesley in waves, she’d found Anya and solicited her help to distract Xander. Anya, in her ever-present quest for orgasms, was more than willing to divert Xander’s attention with a tour of Angel’s hotel.
Xander took one last look at Wesley, then nodded, and headed out to look for his girlfriend.
Following close behind him, Willow shut the door as she exited, leaving Wesley in his blessed peace.
***
The sight greeting Buffy, Giles, Spike, and Gunn at the location of Buffy’s vision was even more appalling in person than it had been in the Powers-generated mental Technicolor version. The four froze in horror as they saw Devin’s fangs descending toward Cordelia’s neck, Angel struggling against his captors’ grasps.
For Buffy, it was as if time stood still. She felt totally and completely helpless, and it freaked her out. She knew what to do, in theory anyway, but she knew that fighting would destroy her now delicate body. But she also knew that Cordelia had the power to fight back; she was just too scared. She didn’t know her own strength, didn’t know her own capability.
She just needed to be reminded of that.
A few feet away, Cordelia’s eyes slid shut and her blood ran cold as she felt Devin’s lips on her neck. She steeled herself for the prick of his fangs and resigned herself to death. Just as she felt his teeth break through the delicate skin, a shout startled everyone.
“I never thought I’d see the day when the biggest snob of Sunnydale High would let some moronic, power-hungry wanna-be-master vampire drain her dry. What happened to the ‘I take shit from NO ONE’ Cordelia Chase?”
Cordy felt Devin pause after the first sip of her blood, the confidence in Buffy’s voice intimidating him slightly. Cordelia’s eyes shot open and she met Buffy’s defiant glare.
“Kill her!” Devin hissed to his accomplices, but they stood still, confused and cagey at the small blonde interruption. They eyed her companions warily, sensing the power in the blonde vampire and the determination from the broad-shouldered black man. The older man was an enigma, impossible to read.
Sensing the vampires’ uncertainty, Buffy stepped a little closer, Spike and Gunn staying right behind her. She met Cordelia’s gaze unflinchingly, and continued to goad the still-frightened woman.
“I have to hand it to you, Cordelia. You must’ve been a great actress, even in high school. All talk and no action, and here you are now doing it again. You have slayer powers, the ability to defeat every one of these weak, poorly trained vamps, and you just stand there and let him bite you?” she scoffed.
Pausing, she lowered her voice to an abusive, nasty whisper. “You really are a useless bitch.”
At the hated, derogatory term, Cordelia’s eyes narrowed. Her teeth clenched and she fisted her hands, tensing her body in preparation for attack.
“Oh, that’s it, Buffy,” she seethed, her voice full of menacing promise, all fear gone to make way for the anger now boiling inside her. “I am going to kick your scrawny, holier-than-thou blonde ass once and for all.”
In that moment, Angel saw his chance. Thirty seconds later, the two vamps holding him were dust, their remains floating away on the night breeze. Gunn and Spike jumped into the fray, fists flying and weapons flashing. The remaining vampires were disabled in a matter of minutes, but several more streamed out of the nearby building.
Devin tried to tighten his grip, but Cordelia elbowed him hard in the ribs, yanking her arms free of his grasp. She turned on him, her hand tightening around his throat, the bones creaking under her fingers.
“And you, Devin. You’re vamp toast.” She smiled evilly at him, then threw him against the wall of the building and he slid to the floor. “But first,” she kicked him cruelly, “you’re going to tell me everything you know about this smarty pants employer of yours.”
Behind her, the fight was raging madly. Gunn severed the heads of two vamps in one vicious swing of his axe, one right after the other, and turned around just as a vampire lunged at him. He ducked, impaling it from underneath as it sailed above him.
Glancing over at Cordelia, he noticed how she was playing with the vamp who’d been tormenting her, a small smile of satisfaction on her face. Without turning around, she yelled, “Hey, Gunn. Got a sword I can borrow?”
Smiling, he tossed one into her outstretched hand. Immediately, it was imbedded in Devin’s upper arm.
Amidst his howl of pain, she yelled, “Thanks!”
Across the alley, Spike and Angel fought side by side, something they hadn’t done in years, taking out vampires in a blur of poetic, synchronized motion that was almost impossible to follow. Neither one, in the frenzy of the fight, noticed the three vampires who broke off from the group and headed for Giles and Buffy. Giles could hold his own, and the vampires engaging him were dusted in seconds.
Buffy, however, wasn’t so lucky. Without her slayer strength, the hits and punches she landed were no more effective than the flap of a butterfly’s wings. Feeling helpless and scared, Buffy relied on something that she’d scoffed at for years now: screaming.
The noise alerted Angel and Spike, who spun around and ran to Buffy’s side, only to stop abruptly as the fledgling held her against him, struggling. He had a knife to her throat, his fangs at her neck.
“Devin wasn’t so smart, but I won’t make that same mistake. I can drain her just as easily after I slit her throat. Ah, ah. I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” he warned as Angel took a menacing step forward. Spike slid in behind Angel, hiding his hand behind Angel’s back. He withdrew a crossbow out of the folds of his coat, the weapon having been forgotten in the hand-to-hand combat earlier.
“You’re the one who doesn’t want to make a mistake like this, junior,” Angel threatened. “You’re going to die.”
“If I am, then so is she,” he smirked, pressing the knife point more firmly into Buffy’s neck.
Without warning, Angel lunged to the side, and Spike’s arrow embedded itself into the vampire’s neck, just next to Buffy’s head. “Not bloody likely,” Spike retorted as the vampire released Buffy in pain. Giles stepped forward and planted his stake into the vampire’s heart and he exploded in a cloud of dust.
Buffy’s knees wobbled as she stood, and Spike rushed over, wrapping his arms around her, murmuring soft words of comfort. She relaxed in his arms for a moment, her head shooting up after a minute.
“Cordelia?” she asked Angel.
Angel just smiled as he stared across the alley, and Buffy followed his gaze. Cordelia stood in front of a now seven-fingered, moaning Devin.
“Let’s try this again, shall we?” Cordelia said brightly, pressing the edge of her weapon against the base of another of Devin’s fingers. “Who do you work for?”
“Mickey Mouse,” Devin rasped defiantly, only to scream as she cut his finger off.
Cordelia sighed, shaking her head. “It doesn’t have to be like this, you know. Just telling me would make it a whole lot easier.
“They’ll kill me if I tell you,” he said, his face contorted in pain.
“I’ll kill you if you don’t,” Cordelia countered. She moved closer, lowering her sword point until it rested on his fly. “Anyway, there are a lot more interesting things to cut off besides fingers.”
Spike shook his head in admiration. “Hell, Peaches. Never knew the cheerleader had so much fire in her.”
“I did,” Angel said softly, a warm light in his eyes as he watched her. Her threat worked and Devin talked. With one powerful swing of her sword against the vampire’s neck it was finished, and she sauntered back over to them.
Her eyes narrowed as she approached Buffy.
“Cordy,” Angel began in a warning tone.
“No, Angel. Buffy and I have a score to settle. I have something I need to say to her.”
Buffy sighed. “Fine, Cordelia. Take your best shot.”
“Thank you, Buffy.” Cordelia’s face softened and she smiled. “I was so freaked there for a minute, and I needed that.”
The two women smiled warmly at each other, sharing a feeling of sisterhood that neither had ever thought possible.
“So what did the bad guy say?” Buffy said, breaking the silence after a moment.
Cordelia frowned and rolled her eyes. “Same evil suited villains as the last hundred crises. Our good old friends at Wolfram & Hart.”
“Great,” Angel muttered. “Did he name anyone?”
“Nope,” she said, handing the sword back to Gunn.
Angel snorted. “This whole thing has Lilah Morgan written all over it.”
“Who else would care enough to make our lives hell?” Gunn asked sarcastically.
There was a pause as the three L.A. residents fumed over the law firm’s tenacious tactics.
“Hello?” Buffy asked, her face puzzled. “Anybody want to clue us in, here?”
Giles stepped forward. “I know some of this from Wesley. Wolfram & Hart is a law firm that has some occultist ties, correct?”
“Yeah. They’re like a multi-dimensional pain in our asses,” Cordelia said. “Every time we turn around, they’re trying to kill, maim, or incapacitate one of us. It’s getting really old. They keep talking about how Angel is a ‘major player’ in the apocalypse. I guess they want him on their side or something, although they have a strange way of getting him there.”
“So why don’t you take them out?” Spike asked.
“That’s the problem,” Angel said. “They can’t be destroyed. I tried.”
There was a tense pause as Cordelia and Gunn remembered the dark times last year.
“Even if we can’t get rid of them forever,” Cordelia continued, “we do know that we can beat their asses every time they come after us, and I don’t expect anything different this time. I’ll bet our Wesley already knows exactly what to do to change us back.”
***
“I have no idea how to change them back,” Wesley said, rubbing his temples in frustration.
“That book didn’t help?” Willow asked, dismayed.
Wesley looked at her through blurry, word weary eyes. “Oh, sure. It tells me a lot. A whole lot of nothing!!”
He slammed the book shut and leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. “Both volumes keep talking about the writing on the orbs, how that holds the secret to the transference of power itself. Both texts infer that the writing holds the key to reversing the ritual as well. But I can’t translate it, so a lot of good that’ll do me.”
“Does it look similar to anything you’ve seen before?” Willow asked, trying to move Wesley’s mind in a new direction.
“Yes and no. The form of the letters is very similar to some ancient demonic languages that I’ve studied, but none of them is related enough to be helpful.”
The room was silent as both scholars reflected. “Can I look at the orb again?” Willow asked after a moment.
Wesley picked it up and handed it to her. “Just don’t twist it. That’s what got us in this trouble in the first place.”
Scrunching her face up in concentration, Willow peered at it from every angle. “Which way’s up?” she asked.
“What?” Wesley asked, puzzled.
“Which side is the top?” Willow asked again.
“I don’t know. . .” Welsey trailed off, lost in thought. Suddenly, he jumped from his seat and grabbed it from her. Turning it sideways so the crack in the middle ran up and down, he peered at the writing again. “Of course!! That’s it!” he breathed, then scrambled for a book on one of his shelves.
***
“We should probably head back,” Giles said, moving the group toward his car.
“I want to walk back,” Cordelia said. Even after the post-battle conversation, she could still feel the adrenaline coursing through her veins, and she felt like her whole body needed some major physical release.
Sensing her situation, Angel quickly stepped to her side. “I’ll walk with her.”
Buffy raised an eyebrow almost imperceptibly as she looked at Cordelia, then at Angel. She smiled inwardly as she recognized the glow of Cordelia’s skin and smile, the quickness of her movements, the rapidness of her breathing.
Oh, yeah. Cordelia definitely had what Faith had once so delicately termed “post-slayage horniness.” Having been on the receiving end of that adrenaline rush more times than she could count, Buffy could relate. She looked at Angel again, noticing how he noticed Cordelia.
Buffy sighed, then looked up at Spike, whose attention was elsewhere. Cordelia was lucky. She got at least a half hour alone with Angel. Buffy and Spike? Maybe five minutes when they got back to the hotel. Any more than that and her “protector,” one Xander LaVelle Harris, would be hovering and getting between her and the man she wanted.
Angel’s voice broke into her thoughts. “You guys go on ahead. Buffy, you look like you could use some rest. Get Fred to set you up in a room upstairs.”
“Thanks, Angel,” she smiled up at him, her eyes tired, but not too tired to wiggle her eyebrows at him and dart her twinkling eyes over at Cordelia in suggestion. She winked and smiled at him, snuggling further into Spike’s embrace. Her actions brought no small measure of peace to Angel, knowing that she wouldn’t give him hell for moving on. He frowned at Spike, though. He couldn’t say that he really liked her choice of men, but it seemed that Spike had what she needed right now.
The four rescuers piled into Giles’ little car, Gunn complaining about not bringing his truck.
Angel and Cordelia watched them in silence as they drove away, the car turning out of sight at the next block. The night was still around them, a slight breeze blowing the clouds away and revealing a star-filled sky. That in itself was unusual; valley smog usually obscured the view. Both the Champion and his seer stared at the empty street for a moment, then turned to look at each other.
Before she could blink, Cordelia was pressed up against the wall of the building, Angel’s arms wrapped around her, his lips inches from hers. She stared up at him, her heart beating rapidly and her breath catching. Still, he waited as if he needed her permission. Not able to take the suspense, Cordelia lifted her head and closed the remaining distance between them, pressing her mouth to his. She’d been dying to finish the journey they’d started after their fight in the lobby earlier, and it seemed like the perfect time.
They stood there like that for a moment that stretched into eternity, their bodies pressed against each other, their mouths fused but not moving, her heat blending with his cold, her light meshing with his dark. It felt as though volts of electricity passed through them at that mere touch, and both felt the current in every cell in their bodies.
Angel’s grip tightened on Cordy’s waist and he pulled her even closer to him and slanted his mouth over hers, looking for a better angle. His tongue darted out, stroking her lips, silently begging her to open them and grant him access. She was more than happy to, her lips parting and her tongue venturing out to meet his.
Grasping the back of his head with her strong fingers, Cordelia massaged his scalp and played with his hair, loving the silky feel of it. His big hands moved down to cup and squeeze her ass, his fingers lightly tracing the screen printed letters of his name on her pants. He smiled against her mouth and growled possessively, now loving the fact that she was branded with his name.
She pulled away from him, breathing heavily as she looked up into his dark eyes. “Like my pants, huh?” she smirked.
He smiled back down at her. “Not at first, but I have to say there’s something very satisfying to a vampire to have my woman branded with my name, even if it isn’t permanent.”
Cordelia’s finely arched eyebrows went up an inch or two. “Your ‘woman’? What are we now, Cave Man Vamp? Gonna drag me around by my hair?”
In mock affirmation, Angel snuck one hand up into her hair, grasping the short strands and splaying his palm across her scalp. “I could think of a few ways to entertain us like this,” he said, his mouth taking hers once again.
Moaning against him, Cordelia arched her back away from the wall, rubbing her breasts against his chest. She felt his arousal pressed into her stomach, its hard length making the desire in her veins flow like molten lava to her core. She ached for him, and somewhere in the back of her mind she knew that they should stop because of something, but she couldn’t figure out what that was. Her hand snuck down between them and she grazed his fly with the back of her fingers. Angel’s response was to lean further into her, and reach his hand up to knead her breast, rubbing the aching nipple between his fingers.
His hand snaked up under her t-shirt, moving aside her bra and burning the bare skin of her breast with his cool fingers. She gasped at the contact, the cool sensation feeling like ice against her burning skin. Soon his hands were on both of her breasts, his mouth once again fused passionately with hers, and Cordelia was caught up in a waterfall of sensations that never let up.
It wasn’t until one of Angel’s hands moved from her chest down between her legs that Cordelia felt like she was completely lost. The moment his hand delved beneath her waistband and caressed the warm slickness, she was nearly out of control. Desperate for release, her hands frantically sought the closure on his pants. She got the top button undone and was about to yank down the zipper when Angel’s hands were suddenly gone, and so was Angel.
She opened her eyes to look at him and found him a foot away, his hands in his pockets, hair mussed and looking unbelievably sexy. The arousal in his eyes was almost tangible, and if he was prone to breathing, she knew he’d have trouble catching his breath. But swimming in that look of potent desire were the telltale signs of uncertainty and sadness, and just the faintest tinge of the scariest emotion of all: regret.
“Why did you stop?” Cordelia said breathlessly, then biting her lip as if to take back the question. She didn’t want to know.
Angel just stared at her for a moment, and needing to fill the space, Cordelia continued. “I mean, I know about your soul being permanent and all, so what did I do wrong?”
Her statement distracted him for a moment. “How did you know about my soul?”
She shrugged. “I eavesdrop.”
“Oh,” he said, smiling slightly. “Guess I should’ve figured that out. You always know everything, so I shouldn’t be surprised.”
“Angel,” she began, then closed the distance between them, grasping the collar of his jacket and pulling him closer to her. “Why did you stop?” she asked again, this time desperate to know the answer.
“I don’t want us to be together like this,” he said simply, his face imploring her to understand.
Cordelia jerked back away from him as his words doused her like ice water. She pressed her back up against the wall and put as much distance between them as she could.
“Because you love Buffy,” she said, trying to keep her voice neutral.
He looked confused. “What? No! Buffy and I were over a long time ago. Besides,” he said ruefully, “looks like Spike’s her favorite vampire now.”
“Then why don’t you want me?” she said, the heartbreak in her voice evident despite her best efforts to hide it.
He looked shocked. “God, Cordelia, not want you?” he said incredulously, moving back to her now that he had his body under control. “Where did you ever get that idea? Weren’t the last few minutes evidence enough of how much I want you?”
“But you said you didn’t want us to be together,” she said, thoroughly baffled.
“I don’t want us to be together like this. Up against a wall in an alley, groping in the dark. Well, at least not the first time,” he said, smiling down at her. His finger reached up to trace the line of her jaw. “And I know you too well, Cordelia. If we made love now, tomorrow morning you’d think I wanted you because you’re the slayer, not because you’re you.”
She shoved him away from her in indignation. “I would not. I’m still me.”
“Yes, you are,” he agreed. “But you’re a very enhanced you. You’re feeling the post-slay high right now and that’s giving you confidence and energy that you wouldn’t have had if you were still the normal you. And I have to admit, seeing you like this draws me to you like a magnet.”
“So let me get this straight. You only jumped me a few minutes ago because I’m the slayer now?” her voice was quiet, a deadly calm, and alarm bells went off in Angel’s head at her neutral tone.
“No. That is not what I meant, Cordy. I want you because I love you, but this power draws me to you in a different way. And the fact that you’re glowing and looking as beautiful as you do when you’re excited about anything made me want to taste you so badly. Your slayer abilities just gave me the confidence to reach out and take what I’ve been longing for since Pylea.”
She just stared at him for a moment, sifting through his words, looking for Buffy Desire in each phrase. She had to admit that while it sounded fishy on the surface, underneath, it was just “Angelspeak” for “I love you.”
“Pylea?” she said, her change in subject making him sigh unnecessarily in relief. He’d passed that part of the test.
“Yeah. When you ran up and got between me and the Groosalugg, stepped between us and said ‘I love him,’ my world stopped. For the smallest moment, I realized I loved you more than I loved anyone,” he said. Then he smiled at her, a full grin covering his face. “Of course, then you had to go and thrust a verbal stake through my heart.”
Her face scrunched up in one of her cutest, apologetic, “oops” faces. “What can I say?” she shrugged. “Pylea made me delusional. And I still had some residual anger from the whole Darla fiasco. Seeing Groo in his muscular, trashy romance novel goodness gave me the mushy escape from reality that I needed at the time.”
She reached her hand up to caress his face. “But I know who I love, and its not him, its you. It’s been you for so long now, but I didn’t want to admit it to myself because I never thought you’d love me too.”
“I do love you, Cordelia. And I want our first time together to be perfect, in my room at the hotel, in my bed, with all day or all night to do it the right way. I love you so much, and you deserve to be shown it the best way I know how.”
The mega watt smile she gave him nearly melted him. “Then lets go get those mind-numbing visions back where they belong, okay? Then you can get all cave man on me without being influenced by the slayer mojo.”
He shook his head at her and grinned, letting himself be pulled along as she began walking toward the hotel.
***
Spike lifted Buffy up into his arms and carried her up the stairs behind Fred. He ignored the holes burning into his back from Xander’s angry stare and tightened his grip around Buffy’s body. She wrapped her arms around his neck and snuggled into his chest, thankful for his nearness.
They had stepped through the front entrance of the hotel a few minutes earlier and were immediately swarmed by everyone else, demanding to know what had happened. Giles ran it down for them, then asked Fred to set Buffy up in a room so she could get some sleep.
“Here you go,” Fred said, showing them a sparse but clean room. “There’s a bathroom just through that door. If you need anything, I’ll be downstairs.”
She smiled sweetly at them, then closed the door behind her as she exited. Spike laid Buffy down on the bed gently, then sat down next to her.
Neither vampire nor slayer said anything, just stared into each other’s eyes. What they saw there was unbelievable for both of them. Never had they communicated in such an unguarded way. Buffy saw all of his love and desire for her, despite his lack of a soul, and how much he truly wanted and needed her. She saw his admiration for her and his determination to see her safe.
In her eyes, Spike saw an acceptance and a need for himself that he’d never thought existed. Her performance the morning after their violent mating had been spot on, and she’d convinced him that she loathed him. Now, though, her gaze said something entirely different. She wanted him. She needed him. And she was willing to take the chance at heartbreak again to be with him.
Without saying a word, Spike lay down next to her and pulled her into his embrace. She curled up into him, her breathing growing even and her heartbeat slowing as she fell into sleep. He tightened his arms around her, knowing that there was nowhere else on earth he’d rather be than here with her.
***
“. . .writing on the orbs is up and down, like some eastern human languages. I felt so stupid for not realizing that before.” Wesley was saying as Fred descended the stairs back to the lobby.
“It’s a common mistake, Wesley. Don’t worry yourself about it. Besides, I didn’t get it, either,” Giles answered. He sat down heavily on one of the couches.
“So what did the translation reveal?”
Wesley frowned. “The writing on the orb has instructions for how the process might be reversed, but it warns that ‘the righteous may yet perish and the demon may live,'” he quoted, looking down at his notes.
“So what you’re saying is that there is a cure, but they might die,” Xander said.
“They’ll die if we don’t do anything, Xander,” Willow said, trying to get her friend to understand the severity of the situation.
“I’m going to die?” Cordelia’s voice came softly from behind them, and all heads turned to look as she and Angel walked back into the hotel.
“Not if I can help it, Cordelia,” Wesley promised. “We’re working on a way to fix it. We’re much closer than we were when you left.”
Angel squeezed her hand reassuringly, then added to the conversation. “We found out who’s behind this.”
Giles’s head whipped up excitedly. “Who?”
Angel shared a meaningful look with Wesley, who frowned. “Wolfram & Hart?” the former watcher said forebodingly.
“None other,” Cordelia sighed, pulling away from Angel to sit down. “Just when I think they’ve given up, they come back with this.”
“But why would they involve Buffy?” Giles wanted to know.
“I don’t know,” Angel said darkly, “But I know someone who does.”
With that cryptic statement, Angel spun around and strode out of the hotel, stopping only to kiss Cordelia’s forehead and whisper his love. As he exited the building, he called back, “I’ll be back in an hour, Wesley. Figure it out.”
***
“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Angel,” Lilah gasped with what little air she had left. She was trapped up against the wall of her office, Angel’s forearm closing off her air supply.
Angel pushed harder.
“Of course you do, Lilah. Your minion talked. We know Wolfram & Hart is behind this, we just don’t know why.”
He released her, only to vamp out and pin her arms to the wall, then bring his face dangerously close to her neck.
“And you’re going to tell me, or I’ll drain you dry.”
She smirked at him despite her captivity. “You wouldn’t. Your soul wouldn’t let you.”
He raised an eyebrow. “It wouldn’t? Isn’t this the same soul that let me sacrifice Holland and your buddies to Darla and Dru?”
He sniffed her neck delicately, letting his fangs graze her skin. “Besides, Lilah. You’ve hurt my mate, a vampire’s mate, and that calls for some serious violent retribution.”
He smiled cruelly at her, his grip on her wrists tightening so much that the bones creaked. He shook his head in mock disappointment. “You should know these things, Lilah. I’m disappointed in you.”
He squeezed one hand harder, and the delicate bones in her wrist snapped.
She screamed, unable to stop herself. “Fine, Angel,” she gasped. “I’m not willing to die over this.”
“Then talk,” he demanded, his face changing back to his handsome features. It should have reassured her, but truth be told, she was much more fearful of his human face than his vampire one. Something about his eyes.
“We have a client that wanted the Slayer killed. He knew where the orbs were and how to get them, but he didn’t have the resources to implement his plan, so he hired us. We saw the potential in . . . disrupting your work as well, and couldn’t resist the opportunity.”
“So how do we change them back?” Angel said, his grip tightening even further.
Lilah clenched her teeth to control the pain. “I don’t know, Angel. We didn’t need to know about that, after all. All I know is that we get two dead women for the price of one. Sounds like a helluva deal to me.”
Snarling at her, Angel spoke. “If Cordelia dies, I will see to it that your death is accompanied by torture worse than Angelus could ever inflict.”
He released her roughly, then backed away. “Stay away from us, Lilah,” he said, and was gone.
Lilah smirked and cradled her injured wrist. She’d better take a vacation, and quick. Because when Cordelia died, the shit was certainly going to hit the fan.
And she would die. Wolfram & Hart had seen to it.
