Part 3
FRIDAY EVENING
With the day done and the sun beginning to set, Buffy pulled the convertible into her driveway. It had been a long day for all three girls. Dawn had three tests, one of which she was sure she failed.
Willow’s psychology class that she was substituting for had been less than cooperative. And Buffy had to deal with a sophomore boy that thought fire was pretty.
As they slowly walked up to the house, Willow had to ask the question that had been on her mind since Angel arrived.
“What’s it like to see him again?”
Buffy considered the question a moment. “I won’t lie, it’s really nice to see him. Last night I actually felt butterflies in my stomach. But honestly, it wasn’t some all-consuming sensation like I thought it might be. I suppose it could become that way, but something is keeping it from being that.”
“Is it the new attitude? Don’t get me wrong, the whole dark and brooding thing was definitely sexy, but maybe this lighter feel he has is throwing you off.”
“I don’t think so. I actually find it refreshing.” They paused on the porch so they could finish the conversation. “There is something else. I can’t pin it down though.”
“I know what you mean,” Willow agreed. “Five or six years ago, it was pretty simple to understand what made Angel tick. It was you. But he’s been in Los Angeles four years. Things are bound to change. He gone from a morose and private man into someone with a sense of humor who is evidently capable of making friends.”
“Yeah, about that. Did you notice the way he talked about them? He spoke so affectionately about all of them, even Wesley who he said betrayed him. But when Cordelia was mentioned, it was like there was…” Buffy searched for the right word.
“Nothing?” Dawn supplied.
“Like he was trying to cut himself off from her,” Buffy added.
“Sounds familiar,” Willow observed. Buffy had a good idea what she meant.
“Do you think he was in love with her? That maybe he left because he couldn’t deal with his feelings or that perhaps she didn’t return them?”
“I don’t know,” Willow answered honestly. “Like I said a minute ago, five years ago it was obvious what made Angel tick. But this is an entirely new beast we’re dealing with. None of us can presume to say what makes Angel, Angel. The only thing I could suggest is wait and watch. Let him work out his feelings. And since he seems more open than he was when we first met him, maybe he’ll give us some insight later on.”
Buffy shrugged her agreement. “I guess. At the least it might be nice to have him around to help us deal with this new demon in town. Two fights with him and I’ve gotten my ass kicked both times. I could use some muscle to help out.”
Willow and Dawn both agreed that would be a good thing. Conversation done, they turned and opened up the door to the house. As they entered, shock covered their faces.
“Is it just me,” Dawn started, “or is this place cleaner than when we left?”
Buffy looked around in awe. The place was the cleanest it had been since before mom died. The carpets had obviously been vacuumed. The cabinets and tables had been polished. The bookcase had been straightened. All the little knickknacks decorating the cabinets had been dusted. And if she wasn’t mistaken, there was a subtle hint of potpourri hanging in the air.
“What’s that smell?” Dawn asked.
“Citronella,” Buffy supplied.
“No, I meant that other smell.”
“That would be lasagna,” Angel spoke from behind. A broad grin crossed his face when they all jumped nearly a foot in the air. “Or it could be breadsticks. They should be about done cooking, too.”
“Wait, you cook?” Buffy asked. Angel nodded that he did. “But you’re a vampire.” Angel agreed with that observation. “You don’t eat human food, so how can you cook?”
“First, I do eat human food. It’s just doesn’t do anything for me. Second, you don’t live 250 years without picking up some talents. ‘The Joy of Cooking’ is in my top ten list of most read books. It’s right under “Les Miserables’ and just above the ‘Kama Sutra’. Believe me, I can accurately describe what’s on page 23 in all three books.”
Willow and Buffy both blushed at the implications of that comment. “What’s the ‘Kama Sutra’?” Dawn asked.
“I’ll tell you when you’re older,” Buffy assured. “Like when you turn forty.” She then indicated the incredibly clean surroundings. “So I guess you showed off another talent by doing an amazing house cleaning job, too. You must have been busy all day.”
Angel smiled and shrugged. “I took an hour off to watch Doctor Phil. Today’s topic was about how erectile dysfunction can affect a marriage. Not his best topic, but let me just say, it wasn’t bad either. Course, I kind of feel sorry for all those guys who had to go on national television and admit they can’t get it up unless their wife wears pleated skirts or antlers on their heads. Second thought, I didn’t feel sorry for them, I spent the entire hour making wisecracks about them. And if I can get some good jabs in, you know Letterman will have a field day. Now come in here and sit down so I can go fetch dinner.”
The girls did what they were told and took seats around the table while Angel retreated into the kitchen. While they shared confused looks between each other, all were looking forward to the prospect of a homemade meal that actually tasted good.
As Dawn dug into the bowl of salad sitting in the center of the table, she cracked, “Wow, that lasagna sure smells good. That means he’s already up one on Buffy’s cooking.”
“Shut up, Dawn,” Buffy vocally admonished but secretly agreed.
“Okay, the sense of humor I can overlook,” Willow started, “but when Angel starts doing a damn good Martha Stewart impersonation, that’s when I start peeing my skirt in fear.”
“Hush up and enjoy this while it lasts.”
Moments later, Angel emerged from the kitchen carrying a bowl of breadsticks in one hand and a pan of lasagna in another. The girls barely waited for him to set the food down before they lunged at it. Willow was the first to put a bite of the lasagna in her mouth.
Angel hadn’t seen a woman’s eyes roll that far back in her head since…well, you know.
“Oh my God,” Willow moaned. “So good. So very good.”
Buffy was quick to agree. “If we weren’t poor, I would so pay to keep you on staff. Someday you are going to make someone a great wife.”
“Funny Slayer. Listen, just because I have a soul doesn’t mean it’s below me to whoop your ass.”
“But all jokes aside,” Buffy said around a mouthful of bread, “you didn’t have to do this for us.” Two kicks from opposite directions tried to silence her.
“It was the least I could do.” Angel leaned back against the doorframe. “You gave me a place to stay last night and protection from the mean old sun all day. I owed that much to you. And while you three enjoy your meal, I’m going to go fetch me some vampire food from the butchers.”
“You don’t have to do that. Just look in the fridge in the crisper marked ‘Garlic’. You’ll find some packets.”
“Why do you have blood in your refrigerator?”
“It’s for Spike when he’s here,” Dawn remarked offhandedly.
“When Spike’s here,” Angel deadpanned. “You let Spike in your home?”
Pause. “He’s got a soul now,” Buffy defended lightly.
“Spike has a soul?” Angel considered that. He finally reached a conclusion.
“Good for him. I’m getting something to eat.”
They all watched as he once again disappeared. “He took that fairly well,” Willow observed. The others agreed. Dinner was interrupted by the sound of the front door swinging wide open. Giles and Xander emerged moments later.
“Saddle up, Buff,” Xander started. “We got trouble at the mall and…is that lasagna?”
“Yup.”
“Kick ass. Can I have some?”
“Sure. It’s really good. Angel made it.” Xander ignored who made it and went to retrieve a plate from the cupboard. Buffy turned her attention back to Giles. “What was Xander saying before he was interrupted by the sight of food?”
“This demon we’ve been tracking is wreaking havoc at Sunnydale Mall. He’s got a dozen vampires with him. They seem to have hit a gun shop. And did you say Angel made that? It smells quite marvelous.”
“Yeah, I made it.” Angel emerged from the kitchen with a packet of blood in hand. He took a drink before continuing. “This demon of yours. Is it about seven feet tall? Has a lot of black and gray colorization and is heavily armored?”
“Yes, do you know it?” Giles inquired. “I haven’t been able to identify it.”
“It’s a Mihara-Matu,” Angel informed him. “They’re nasty sons of bitches. They like to take on vampires as lackeys. I fought one in LA about a year and a half ago that had aspirations of taking over the town.”
“How’d the fight go?” Buffy asked.
“I’m still alive. And don’t even say it, Harris.”
“What?” Xander tried to say in an offended manner. “I wasn’t even thinking of making a crack about your state of deadness.”
“Can you defeat it?” Giles asked.
“If Buffy can keep the vampires off me long enough. I have what I need to kill him in the trunk of my car. He’s got a weak spot. The section of belly just above his pelvis doesn’t have armor.”
Buffy rose from her seat and the others followed suit. “Then I suggest we go before people start getting hurt.”
Giles waited patiently as the others passed him by before grabbing a knife and cutting a slice of lasagna. He gently wrapped it in a piece of napkin before following the others out the door.
***
Clayton’s Junction
Three Miles East of Sunnydale
Merrick held the glass lightly in his hand and brought it under his nose. Inhaling deeply, Merrick moaned audibly as the delicate scent invaded him. A quick swirl of the glass was followed by a smooth downing of the amber liquid. As a human might say, the sensation was purely orgasmic.
“Oh, God, this is simply magnificent,” Merrick sighed. “Brandy. Bottled in 1815. And blessed be, a Frenchman made it. The French certainly produce some fine liquors.” Merrick gently waved his foot in the air to the motion of the orchestra playing in the background.
“It’s been so long since I’ve been able to enjoy the pleasures of life. Generations have passed since the last time I had five star Italian cuisine, or gazed upon a rare Rembrandt, or even seen a symphony performed in person. Do you know this piece? I saw the original performance of it. It is Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony. An exquisite experience, is it not?”
Merrick sighed at the lack of response. “Not a music lover, I take it. Sad. Otherwise this was a perfect evening.”
The lovely young brunette girl might have screamed for help if not for the state of shock her body was presently in. That was due largely to the gaping hole in her abdomen and the incidental loss of her liver.
Merrick smiled slightly at the blinking but unseeing eyes. Poor girl. He almost felt sorry for her. Merrick shrugged the feeling away and cut another slice of said girl’s liver from the plate before him and ate.
“I tell you, and I hope you pardon my language, but it very much gripes my ass that I’ve spent eighty years locked away while Angel has spent all that time roaming free to do as he pleases. The son of a bitch denied me what was mine all those years ago. Now I’m free to collect my reward.” The annoyance was plain on his face. “Now I just have to track down the little whore and her two friends.”
Merrick sighed. “Well, I shouldn’t get discouraged. Within the next few days, I will be able to cure myself of two long-standing problems. But first I must attend to an even more immediate dilemma.”
Merrick moved to stand up, but fatigue was setting in. “You must pardon me,” he spoke in the girl’s direction. “I’m not quite feeling up to par at the moment. But thankfully you can help me with that.” Merrick forced himself to his feet and crossed over to the couch on which the girl rested.
Her eyes tracked the movement, but her body was unable to respond. She barely registered the fact that Merrick gently placed his left hand on her forehead. A bright white light glowed behind the girl’s eyes as the life drained from her body. Merrick, however, found the previous moment’s fatigue to be lifted.
“Ah, that’s the stuff. Darling, you were just what I needed.” Rejuvenated, Merrick patted the girl’s cheek affectionately. As he went to leave, he tripped slightly over a book. Smiling, he reached down and grabbed the spell book and placed it on the coffee table with a few other similar tomes. Whistling a line from the Brandenburg Concertos, Merrick flipped the light switch and left.
***
Angel’s convertible and Xander’s sedan pulled into the parking lot of Sunnydale Mall as tens of other people were rushing to their cars to get away. They quickly exited the cars and assembled at the trunk of the convertible. The Scoobies already carried their own weapons. Angel now had to retrieve his.
“Are you sure you can kill it?” Giles asked once more.
“Fairly sure,” was Angel’s reply. Popping open the trunk, the collective jaws of the Scoobies dropped at the sight before them.
“Wow,” Willow breathed. “You really take the Boy Scout motto to heart, don’t you.”
“Of course.” Angel reached in and grabbed what appeared to be an anti-tank gun.
“I was wondering why the car seemed heavy in back,” Dawn said.
Buffy’s breathing began to come in short gasps as she took in the sight of an impressive piece of weaponry. Angel was fairly sure she was becoming aroused by it. “What is that and where can I get one?” she asked.
Angel slung the leather strap across his shoulder and hoisted the gun up to his hip. The weapon was essentially a long tube connected to what appeared to be a large metal canister.
“Fred made this for me. It fires a two-foot long stake at a velocity just shy of two hundred miles per hour. It uses highly compressed air to launch the projectile. Cool, huh?”
“Giles? Can I have one for Christmas?”
Giles was equally impressed with it. “I was actually going to ask the same thing. Um, this Fred girl, does she do specialty orders?”
“Probably, if you ask nice enough.” Angel handed the gun over to Buffy so he could gather his other tools. He wondered vaguely if he would be able to get it away from her. From his side, Dawn poked her head into the trunk to see what else he had.
“What are these?” she asked. Dawn held up a pair of Angel’s wrist holsters.
“Spring loaded stake holsters. Strap them on the inside of your forearm. When you want a stake to pop out, apply pressure to the trigger using a motion like this.” Angel demonstrated the correct motion. He then helped her put them on. “Have fun with them.”
Angel strapped another holster to his chest that held a pair of hatchets. He then pulled out a briefcase that contained the main item he was looking for.
“So,” Xander started. “If you shoot this demon in the gut with your stake gun, that will kill it?”
“Oh no. In fact, besides only leaving a real big hole in his torso, it will do little more than piss it off.” He pulled a white brick from the briefcase. “This brick of C-4 explosive that I will jam into that real big hole in his torso is what will kill him.”
“C-4?” Willow asked. “Overkill much? And why would you have that in your trunk anyway?”
“Remember that apocalypse I was telling you guys about? Yeah, well, we had some leftover supplies.”
“I like explosives,” Buffy said dreamily. She continued to rub the stake gun in a manner that Angel had only seen a woman rub a…well, you know. Angel took the gun away from her. The soft whimpering sound she made was quite sad.
“Is this really going to work?” Dawn asked.
Angel strapped the gun back on. “It should. The way I figure it, you could see one of two things. Number one would be me dying in a horrible and brutal manner. Number two would be me sticking this explosive in this demon’s chest and creating a bizarre version of modernistic art all along the walls of Starbucks. Either way it should be cool. You guys ready?”
All agreed that they were. Well, except for Buffy. She was still pouting over the loss of the gun. “I’ll let you play with it later.”
Buffy instantly perked up at that. “Way cool. Let’s go kill us some demons.”
With Angel and Buffy leading the way, the gang strode confidently into battle.
***
Cordelia smiled softly as she looked down at her child. The baby sucked happily on a bottle, seemingly oblivious to the world. Cordelia envied that. Instead, she was stuck with the harsh reality that the man she loved likely didn’t love her anymore.
“He must hate me so much,” she whispered down to the child. “Can’t say that I blame him. I kind of hate me at the moment, too. I harped on him when he slept with Darla. I told him what a mistake it was and how horrible it was. Mommy’s a hypocrite. Do you know what a hypocrite is?” The child gurgled softly.
“You’ll learn eventually. The world is full of them. A hypocrite is someone who doesn’t practice what they preach. I would say that is typical of your average churchgoer, but I’m not into the religion bashing thing. Not when I proved how horrible I could be. I betrayed your daddy. Well, he isn’t really your daddy, but you understand what I mean. I slept with his son. I confessed my love to him and then slept with his own blood. And let me tell you, Mommy’s rationalization wasn’t too rational when I did it either. Not that I’m making excuses. No. I’m prepared to face the consequences of my actions.
“I’m prepared to spend the rest of my life without him. He deserves someone one better. Someone who won’t resort to hanging his past over his head just because she’s scared of what may happen. I’m prepared to spend the rest of my life alone and without love. But God help me. I don’t want to. I need him. I need him to come home.”
***
Wounded lined the corridors of Sunnydale Mall. Some of them suffered from bites to the neck. Others were hit by stray bullets. Angel took the lead as they neared the GAP. Some of the vampires were trying on Polo shirts. The Mihara-Matu looked on with a satisfied smirk as his minions created havoc.
“I miss the days when demons just used fangs and claws and weird little things that shoot out of their ears,” Xander stated nervously. He made sure to stay behind Angel since he was fairly bulletproof. “Once the evil things start using gunpowder, that’s when I hide under the bed and reminisce about the good old days.”
Angel cast an annoyed glance backwards. Xander, like the rest of the Scoobies, were armed primarily with crossbows. “Xander, be quiet,” Angel ordered. “These guys have guns, you guys have crossbows. And since I’m the only one hear that is vaguely bulletproof, I would suggest that you guys take cover until I kill this thing.”
“Since when do we take orders from you?” Xander asked. Angel vamped out and snarled at him. “Oh, since then,” Xander gulped. “Right-o.”
“Just keep them busy while I do my thing.” Angel flipped the switch that would build up pressure in the gun. “This shouldn’t take long. Not like some other fights.”
***
“You sure about this, dude?” Gunn asked. “Do you really want to do this?”
“Do I want to do this? No,” Angel answered. “Having my soul torn from my body doesn’t rank high on my ‘To Do’ list, but the options are limited.”
The gang was assembled around the hotel counter as they looked over the schematics for the abandoned warehouse. The members of Angel Investigations didn’t much care for the plan. The new members of Faith and Gwen weren’t too hip on it either. Lilah, seeing that there was a good chance that Angel’s death could result from this, gave her full support towards the plan.
“It isn’t worth it, Angel,” Cordelia spoke softly. “I don’t want you to do this.”
“It has to be done, Cordelia. It’s the only way.”
“It won’t work.”
“It has to,” Angel said with a determination she’d never heard before.
Silence reigned for several minutes before Wesley spoke quietly. “Go over the plan again.”
Angel did so. Pointing at the schematics, he outlined his plan for the final battle. “In two nights, we draw the Beast into this building. When he nears, Wesley will perform the soul extraction as the rest of you escort Cordelia down to the basement. From there, head into the sewers to safety. Wesley, I want you to run while I’m still recovering from the spell. I need everyone to protect Cordelia. I don’t know why it wants the baby, but we will make damn sure he won’t get it.”
Angel let that bit of information sink into their heads. Lilah then spoke.
“Okay, now what’s my role in all this?”
Angel reached into his jeans pocket and retrieved a slip of yellow paper. “ I need you to get these items for me.” Lilah took the paper and read the list aloud.
“An Urn of Lordoth. Four fiber-optic night view cameras. Remote video receiver. And…Good God that’s a lot of high explosive. What the hell do you want this for?”
“Plan B,” Angel answered. “The urn is to capture my soul. I want those cameras installed in the building before the fight. It’s fairly simple. You watch to see how it goes. If I can stick him with the Blade of Hefnar then I kill him. If I can’t, then you flick the switch on the detonator and bury him. That should give you time to get to a safe distance.”
Cordelia rubbed her swollen belly as she considered the probabilities. “This won’t work,” she said with finality.
Angel cast her a long and sullen glance before turning away from the group. “I know,” he whispered.
***
“Hey! Demon dude!”
The Mihara-Matu turned towards the voice and growled. He then stared in confusion at the tube the vampire carried. Angel clicked a button that primed the firing chamber.
“Say hello to my little friend!”
A sound akin to a torpedo being shot from a submarine resonated through the halls. The two foot long section of oak hurtled at a velocity well over 180 miles per hour. The trajectory proved true as the stake slammed into the demon’s torso just above his pelvis. The sheer force of the impact threw the demon back twenty feet until a stand of Calvin Klein jeans stopped his progress.
Angel pulled the gun up over his head and tossed it aside. “I’ve always wanted to say that.” He turned a quick glance to the Scoobies. “Fan out and take cover. Do your thing so I can do mine.”
The Scoobies obeyed the order and ducked behind benches, trashcans, and whatever else was handy. Angel strode forward, ignoring the whiz of bullets that zipped past him. Two vampires charged up and tried to flank him. Firing pistols, several bullets imbedded in Angel’s torso.
“You cannot get by!” the first vampire shouted.
“You will be destroyed!” the second screamed.
A flick of his wrists and a pair of stakes appeared in Angel’s hands. Moments later, those stakes were thrust through the hearts of the vampires that stood in his way.
“Whatever,” was his reply.
The Mihara-Matu was slow to his feet after being hit with the cannon. By the time he stood up and jerked the stake from his chest, Angel’s fist made solid contact with his face. In a blur, Angel whipped the hatchets from underneath his coat and began to deliver some hard blows to the demon’s upper body.
“I’ll tell you what,” Angel began. “I’m going to make this quick.” Angel’s hatchet blows drove the demon backwards towards the elevators. “Because I made a great lasagna dinner, and it’s going to get cold if we don’t get back soon.” Angel hurled one of his hatchets at the elevator buttons. The down arrow promptly lit up. “Plus, I had all the stuff laid out to make pumpkin pie.”
A vicious heel kick sent the Mihara-Matu reeling a few feet away from the elevator. A small ding sounded as the metal doors slid open. “As much as I would like to continue this little altercation, this fight is officially over,” Angel concluded. From his jacket pocket Angel produced the brick of C-4 with metal fuses already implanted.
Angel jammed the brick into the open wound of the Mihara-Matu. Grabbing the demon by the shoulder armor, Angel spun him around and tossed him into the open elevator with a loud crash. The elevator dutifully slid shut with yet another small ding.
“And they had trouble fighting THIS?” Angel shook his head in disappointment. “Maybe I’m just getting too good.” With a small sigh, Angel turned on his heels and moved to rejoin the Scoobies. As he reached an aisle of Hilfiger apparel, a sudden thought occurred to him.
Reaching into his jacket, Angel withdrew a small remote. A flick of a switch and the Mihara-Matu met a fiery end. But then again, so did much of the store’s clothing.
When the vampires realized that their employer was dead, they didn’t hesitate to drop their guns to the floor and run to the nearest exits. The Scoobies were tempted to give pursuit, especially since they now held the advantage. But it was clear that Angel had no interest in doing so.
The Scoobies began to pop up from their places of cover and gathered in the center of the court. All were fairly stunned at the brutality and effectiveness of Angel’s assault.
“Well,” Willow started, “Angel was right about one thing.”
“What about?” Xander asked.
“That was pretty cool.” She looked around for confirmation from the others. They all nodded their agreement. That was indeed cool.
“You think anyone will be mad since you blew up the GAP?” Dawn asked.
Angel turned back and observed the fiery ruins of the preppy clothing outlet. “Probably. But really, who buys shit from the GAP anyway beside rich preps and snot nosed punks?” Buffy fiddled with the collar of her shirt so the tag couldn’t be seen. It wasn’t her fault it had been on sale.
“Besides, GAP stores are like bacteria and Chinese. They reproduce by mitosis.”
Angel moved to follow the gang out when he realized what he just said. “Okay, that wasn’t an ethnic slur on my part. I like the Chinese.” Pause. “Considering I’m a vampire, that can be interpreted several ways.”
Another pause. “Anyone have a cigarette? I could use a cigarette.”
***
Wesley leaned back in the metal folding chair calmly. In his left hand was a cigarette. Flicking away the ashes, he calmly brought it up to his lips. In his right hand was a three-quarter inch thick section of rope.
That section of rope trailed upward to the ceiling. Wrapped around a small pulley, the rope trailed back down several feet. The end of the opposite section of rope was tied around a pair of old surplus army boots. Those army boots were attached to the feet of an odd looking creature.
Odd, but certainly vicious if that double set of fangs were any indication. However, that didn’t concern Wesley much. Not when this demon was dangling over a vat of water.
Wesley reached over to the small table next to his chair and adjusted the dial on an electric radio. Changing the station from modern to classic rock, Wesley smiled in satisfaction. He then grabbed the bottle of Budweiser sitting next to the radio and took a long swill.
“I do love Led Zeppelin, don’t you?” The demon snarled viciously in response. “Do you have a favorite album? Personally, Physical Graffiti is always among the selections in my CD player.” The demon snapped both set of teeth in anger. “Well, if you want to be that way, then I suppose we can get down to business. And here I was trying to be polite and make light conversation beforehand. Oh well.”
Wesley relaxed his hold on the rope until the demon’s head was submerged underwater. With a totally bored expression, the former Watcher waited nearly a minute before pulling the demon back up. Needless to say, he wasn’t very pleased.
“Oh, be silent,” Wesley admonished. The demon’s roars subsided to soft growls. “Now, it has come to my attention that you deal in facts. The sort of chap that has connections that have connections. In other words, you will have information that could prove useful to me. That being so, I pose you a question. Do you know the location of a vampire known as Angel?”
“Why should I tell you anything, Brit?” the demon snapped.
Wesley sighed and rolled his eyes in annoyance. The demon found himself once more submerged. When Wesley leisurely pulled back on the rope several minutes later, he asked, “Is that enough motivation? I can do this all night.”
The demon stared at him with wide purple eyes. The human seemed serious. “Some town up north. Supposedly a vampire with a soul has been spotted there. It’s called…it’s called…”
“Sunnydale?” Wesley supplied.
“Yeah,” the demon agreed.
Wesley considered that information. It made a sort of twisted sense. “Very well.” Wesley completely let loose of the rope so that the demon went down into the vat of water with a loud splash. Wesley then grabbed the radio, and extension cord and all, tossed it nonchalantly into the water. Sparks flew as the demon was effectively turned to a crisp.
“Smells like chicken,” Wesley mused. He took a long drag from the cigarette before tossing it aside. “Looks like I’m going to Sunnydale. Oh joy.”
