CHAPTER 3
Daylight, unkind and indifferent painted the landscape of LA. First with the rose gold of dawn and then later, when the muggy heat set in and the haze of smog drifted down, with a white glow that blinded as the besieged human population un-boarded their doors and windows to face yet another day of degrading animalistic scrounging.
In the midst of it all and screened to seem as wasted as the rest of the city one tall building stood proud. Inside it, creamy white walls met scrupulously polished tiled floors, interspersed with rich copper carpeting to muffle and preserve the hushed professional solemnity, a sterile cleanliness to add a glossy veneer of fresh vitality over the rank odour of corruption and pure evil. Wolfram and Hart during business hours at its worst.
“I don’t know about you but I didn’t sign up for this. What good is a big fat pay check when the rest of the world’s gone back to bartering to survive? It’s a wasteland out there and we’re stuck in our little gilded cage.” They were walking between conferences with Lilah piled high with files as per usual. Lindsey had his hands shoved deep into dark grey pants pockets.
Hips swaying thanks to towering heels, Lilah Morgan scowled and checked for potential eavesdroppers before risking a reply. “Quit bitching, Lindsey, before you get overheard and the both of us killed,” she hissed back with a warning gleam slicing out of cold eyes.
Adding, “besides, would you rather be out there mucking it with the natives or in here living a life of luxury?” A quick flick of a wrist to check a dainty Rolex had the frown grooves digging deeper.
“What luxury, power? Face it, we got burned, Lilah, and we’re not getting out of this any time soon.” Lindsey scoffed sourly, passing the verbal ball and glowering when other Wolfram & Hart employees passed too close for comfort.
Gym, sauna, movie theatre, two restaurants and a laundry on demand service were available at each fully equipped apartment complex in magically cloaked locations dotted around the beleaguered city, accessible only by the law firm’s staff. The tip of the iceberg and still none of it was enough for Lindsey who itched to escape.
Who cares about movies when there’s nobody making ’em? Hell, even watching old epics did nothing except remind him how even history was looking healthier than the world today.
Thanks to him. He’d located and recruited Gundry, which with hindsight had been a bad, bad mistake.
Lilah saw the brief flicker of guilt crossing the boyish handsome face of her rival and smirked, waiting until they were almost inside the room before leaning in to whisper, “Whose fault is that? I asked you at the time if you knew what you were doing, remember?”
That stung. Smug bitch. “I was doing my job,” the mantra was getting old- fast.
“Tell that to the mirror and get over yourself,” Lilah sneered as they passed through the polished wooden double doors. With no time now for a retort Lindsey fell stonily silent and simply found his seat amongst the dozen or so ringing the expansive walnut table.
This next meeting on the day’s agenda convened in the conference room attached to the Special Projects Division headed by Lindsey and Lilah’s boss, Holland Manners. Sitting in a sprawl and only half listening while doodling mindlessly on his pad, Lindsey felt frustration roil up. Mixed with guilt it was a seething mass in his gut, acid snakes wrestling and writhing inside, threatening to bust him right open as they swelled.
Screw this. His life was supposed to have been wonderful, powerful and oh so different than before. Bitterness added to the frustration and guilt was the final straw.
“Why are we even here?” the words flew out of his mouth without conscious thought and looking up Lindsey saw he had everybody’s aghast attention. Suddenly he couldn’t care less that he’d interrupted Holland giving some spiel about a demon clan with negotiations problems involving their new non-human supplier of, whatever the hell it was.
The pen landed on the table with a clatter in the abrupt silence as he pushed up to sit forward. “Are we just marking time or what? I’m serious, can anyone tell me what goddamn use is a lawyer with no legal process to administer or twist round.”
At the head of the table Holland hid a wince as his protégé had one of what he labelled his ‘fits’ where discretion flew out the window at high velocity. At times he wondered if he’d made a mistake choosing Lindsey McDonald but then his abhorrence for self-doubt would reassert itself. The boy just needed coaching.
Unruffled and composed Holland sighed heavily as an opener to the soft yet steely reply, then gentle smile in place reproved, “Lindsey, I think any discussion about your workload or our changed circumstances should be handled separate to this meeting. I’m sure you agree.”
Under the table a mortified Lilah kicked him hard, stabbing his shin with a pointed shoe just in case he’s missed the warning Holland could so skilfully layer under that smooth as silk affability. Stupid bitch, did she think he didn’t know just how far over he’d crossed the line? Problem was for Lilah that she lived in fear of him dragging her with him and that suited Lindsey just fine.
Hell, yanking her chain was sometimes the only highlight of his day.
Not now though, “Certainly, Sir, excuse my outburst,” the apology was immediate and burned the back of his throat. One of these days apologies weren’t going to make it past Lindsey’s reckless streak and then he figured he was as good as dead.
*
Later Lindsey resorted to hiding, knowing that Holland would want to dissect his dissatisfaction and force him to face his own culpability, not something he wanted to dwell on right now. Tin-can hockey in the underground car park filled with lovingly polished ranks of cars acting as silent sentinels served that purpose, as well as giving him an outlet for the edgy restlessness that grew stronger and more intrusive every day.
The stick’s head hovered over the concrete as Lindsey braced, staring utterly focused down the lane towards the narrow goal he’d marked with two yellow traffic cones. His neat burgundy tie was askew and the white shirt’s top button undone while rolled up sleeves revealed forearms that flexed with sinewy muscle. Working out was another new obsession aimed at giving him something to do than go stir crazy.
“Steady… steady,” angling his hips Lindsey swung watching the follow through that sent the can careening across the concrete and shooting between the cones, “Oh yes, and he scores. I am the man,” loud crowing and one short victory dance later Lindsey, unable to completely hide the western swagger, made his way over to swipe up his third beer, tipping back his head to let the cold fluid drain down.
“Bored, Lindsey?” asked a deep voice behind him.
Recognising it, Lindsey stilled then slowly dropped the hand holding the beer. He didn’t need to look; was in fact a little afraid to although you couldn’t tell that from the resigned smile that curved his lips. When he spoke it was perhaps the first time his superiority complex wasn’t along for the ride too, “What do you think, Angel, and here’s me thinking it was obvious what with the tin can and all,” he returned flippantly.
Movement to the right had Lindsey turning to level reddened blue eyes on his nemesis. The vampire stood a few steps in front of his cronies, the leather coated frame standing straight and assured, a solid mass of pending retribution. Fuck you, Lindsey’s eyes gleamed with the unspoken retort and reckless as ever he saluted them with the half full can in his hand, “So, what can I do you for you folks?”
Idly wondering if he was crazy Lindsey kept his hands up and away from his pockets so they’d know he wasn’t triggering any silent alarms.
“You can start by telling us about Gundry and his virus,” Angel suggested without preamble and sauntered closer, brows lowered over eyes that promised things were going to get nasty. Behind him the British guy and the girl hung back, standing protectively in front of a nerdy looking little man. Lindsey recognised him or thought he did.
Wondering when the rest of evil inc. were going to descend, Cordelia kept scanning the shadows cursing Angel and his habit of trusting fate, or maybe she meant flying in the face of it. Next to her Wesley was similarly involved in keeping a weather eye on the exits.
Dismissing Nabbit, Lindsey jerked his mind off the human trio and back to the approaching vampire. As far as the question went he didn’t even have to think about it, his decision was already made, “Sure, Kezzra demon a real Jekyll and Hyde character, interesting to work with, lives at 1125 Canadia apartments on Cincinnati.”
Tutting Angel shook his head, “That was too easy, Lindsey, try again,” even knowing it probably wasn’t necessary he couldn’t resist giving into the temptation to hurt this human, accepting that had been his intention from the moment Wolfram & Hart got mentioned. Back a few months loathing had been instant the second he’d laid eyes on the man and hadn’t abated since.
Tense, Cordelia stifled the urge to hurry things along, knowing she was still skittish after last night. Then added a silent, yeah, and who wouldn’t be? Watching an illusion crumble into dust like she had yesterday was not her idea of fun. As frustrating as Angel’s stubborn nobility could be at times, knowing it was wavering was pretty damn scary. So it didn’t take a genius to recognise that a second confrontation with someone he genuinely despised–- not a great idea.
Pity she hadn’t figured that out earlier.
“Predictable as ever Angel, can’t recognise the truth even when it’s tossed in your face.”
Lindsey, watching Angel’s slow approach didn’t try and evade or retreat; one it wasn’t in his nature and secondly it would only make it worse, so bracing himself he lifted an arrogant chin and waited. Fifteen ft became zero in a microsecond and seen as a blur nevertheless when that pale hand wrapped around his throat to lift him off the floor Lindsey had already taken a deep breath which instantly moaned out between pain tautened lips.
“I’m telling the truth,” words got hoarser as air quickly became an issue regardless, eyes watering he pushed on, “You think I like this?” he asked bluntly both hands pulling uselessly at a thick steel encased wrist.
All too aware how little it would take to snap that mortal neck and ignoring the pathetic attempt to gain freedom Angel’s eyes narrowed, “I think you’re a sick bastard that likes getting hurt every bit as you like hurting others, it’s that martyr complex you have. What’s up, Lindsey, are all those years of bible study finally catching up with you?”
Inside Lindsey was laughing at himself realizing finally why he kept returning here of all places. Damned do-gooder vampire. He kept on being drawn down here away from the safety of the vamp detectors, for this. On some obscure level he’d been waiting for Angel and his buddies to turn up and save the day. My hero. Analysing himself or his own actions had never been a strong point for Lindsey but the flip side to that was he hardly ever questioned himself.
“Maybe I want you to go see him, Angel, go figure.”
“Why?” Angel gave an extra little squeeze for good measure, hiding the glint of guilty pleasure from his human companions but making sure Lindsey saw it. The urge to do worse was almost more than he could withstand and only the stark knowledge in Lindsey McDonald’s face had so far saved the corrupt human from facing a bloody end one dark lonely night.
That and the fact that he could always change his mind if the mood took him; even Angel needed some fantasies and that was one of the rare ones that remained almost guilt free.
Despite the crushing pressure Lindsey stayed mute and out of a red, congested face stared directly into the dark hell reflecting back out of onyx eyes. One day soon he was going to ask Angel if Cordelia Chase and the ex-watcher knew just how much of a monster he really was, soul or not.
They understood one another; Angel dropped him. “I asked you why?”
“I never expected this,” Lindsey wheezed and then coughed, rolling onto his side to curl up like a baby while his oxygen starved body struggled to recover, “I thought it would mess things up a bit, cause a little bit of mayhem but not like this… obliteration of everything.”
Wesley shared Cordelia’s visible feeling of disgust. “You slimy sack of-“
“You reap what you sow,” chimed in Wesley only a little pompously but enough to earn an eye roll and a hard poke off Cordelia.
Rolling over on his back Lindsey wasn’t finished. “It’s going to get worse too. No longer forced to squeeze themselves in whatever dark tight spot they can find, the demons are breeding fast. They learnt it from us that numbers count for everything, pretty soon it’ll be us that are outnumbered ten to one.”
“And whose fault is that?” growled Angel.
Stiffening, Angel’s fists clenched with renewed rage. Seeing it Cordelia literally leapt forward, squicked at the idea of watching him dangle the man like a fish on hook again, arm steady as rock as he squeezed the life out of him.
“Wait.” Outstretched arm stopping just short of his stiff frame she said, “erm- why don’t we go see if he’s telling the truth, Angel, before you throttle him and then find the lead’s a dead-end?” Well, it sounded reasonable to her and the plus point was they got to leave- like now would be good.
Then looking for back-up she turned to Wes, pulling an exaggerated grimace as an extra prod, “Don’t you think, Wesley?”
She needn’t have bothered Wesley was already coming forward to intercede, as usual discomforted seeing Angel assault a human no matter how reprehensible, “I concur. It is our best step forward, Angel,” he added earnestly and let out a relieved breath to share a speaking look with Cordelia when the vampire nodded and stepped away.
“Don’t you just love democracy,” goaded Lindsey from the floor.
“Oh shut-up you, a-hole, I don’t want your blood splattered all over my clothes.”
Repartee or not the relief was short-lived, “You guys go first. I’ll be with you in a minute.”
He didn’t even look at them when he said it. Cordelia didn’t like the sound of that one little itty bit and her scowl reflected that fact pointedly, “Oh but-“
“Now, Cordelia,” Angel interrupted and turned his head to raise a quelling brow, his expression inflexible. She didn’t move and he could literally see the wheels turning inside that glossy beautiful head. She was worried about him. Irritation melted, “I won’t be long,” he offered only because it was her and some sixth sense had her relaxing and nodding, accepting his silent promise.
Good grace didn’t come into it though, “Okay, but it better just be a minute, tops. This place gives me the heebie jeebies,” she shivered for extra effect; turned away then swung back, “No killing, you promise?” His face spoke volumes, “-Just checking, jeeze.”
Then snagging a silent and watchful Nabbit’s arm as well as Wesley’s she stalked off, taking the lead with slightly battered flats click clacking on the concrete now she was no longer in sneak mode and with both men in tow.
Watching her leave Angel’s gaze was caught for a microsecond by a sweetly curving ass lovingly concealed by clinging leather pants the colour of caramel and cream. Still in a sprawl on the floor Lindsay failed to notice the slightly absorbed hesitation before the vampire turned his not so welcome attention back on him.
They were alone. Not one to lie and wait to get stomped on Lindsey pushed himself back up to stand on unsteady feet, “So now what, you finally going to make good on one of those threats, Angel? C’mon on, we both know you don’t have the stones.”
Angel tucked that away for a later fantasy where he didn’t just stand there and take it, “Today’s not your day to die, but I am going to add another warning-,” a sucker punch to the gut had Lindsey doubling up and retching onto the concrete of the car-park, leaning in Angel grinned and whispered, “that was just to get your attention, a tickle so to speak. Now…you better be listening.”
Slowly circling him Angel got to his main concern about this sudden and unprecedented turncoat action, “I don’t expect an ambush at this address you’re so anxious for me to visit, because if there is and I escape… then you get to die.” He meant it too and was the reason why he hadn’t wanted Wesley and Cordelia to overhear, more evidence of how protective he was of his relationship with the two humans.
Bent at the waist and grimacing, Lindsey spat to get rid of the bile then shook his head, running a quick trembling finger under his nose before straightening to say in a pained rasp, “Told you I want this fixed just as much as you. There’ll be no ambush.”
Satisfied to some degree, Angel turned to leave, halting when Lindsey called out with some of his usual spark, “Just so you know I’m on the level, I have another little titbit for you.”
Distrust dropped in a blanket of unease, brushing it off with an irritable shake of his head Angel carried on walking, “Always want the last word don’t you, Lindsey. I have better things to do.”
“Cordelia is dying.”
That got shockingly instant attention and Lindsey held up a warding off hand, swallowing a hidden strike of terror at the expression on Angel’s face. This time he hadn’t even seen the vampire’s approach until he was there in front of him, silent and murderous.
Babbling, Lindsey explained himself, “Look I know what you’re thinking but its true. I’ve seen a report; the visions were never meant for a human. Ask her, she has to be hiding it. The next vision could be her last.”
***
Before it hit, Cordelia found herself pinned by a pair of glittering brown eyes staring remorselessly out of a tight pale face.
They’d been standing waiting by the sewer exit with her leaning back against the wall, fingers tapping impatiently against her thigh silently counting the seconds and vowing to herself that if he was even a second over she was going back. Then he turned the corner and all she could think was what the hell was his problem and why did Angel look like he wanted to pick her up and shake her?
Ookay, what have I done now?
Angel was scared and angry and not dealing well with either. Ever since Doyle’s death he’d struggled to maintain a balance between keeping his distance and keeping them safe. Distance they’d not let him keep and eventually he’d given ground seduced by the temptation of family, only now she was dying and stupidly he felt betrayed.
Cordelia was dying and she’d been lying to hide it as if she didn’t trust him to help her deal with it. Unexpectedly that hurt the most. He’d thought they had more than that. Lindsey couldn’t have picked a better revenge for that punch in the gut and Angel was still reeling as he closed the distance between them.
Wesley and Nabbit may as well not exist for all they didn’t even impinge on his mind, focused unerringly as it was on a blinking and flummoxed Cordelia. His face must be a picture and Angel didn’t give a rat’s ass. Cordelia is dying… Cordelia is dying… dying…
No, No and NO! He’d saved her before when things looked grim and he was going to do it again, even if it was from herself this time. I can’t do it… carry on with her ghost in my head tearing my heart out with the memory of a big smile and knowing she’s gone because of me. The visions were for him and while she had them she was his responsibility. Trying to convince himself that he had a choice to care or not was a joke and all it had taken was three words to convince him of that.
The vision caught them all by surprise. Angel caught her as she tumbled jerkily into his reaching arms.
***
Standing in nothing more than her panties and bra before the mirror Cordelia wearily leaned against the plain ceramic sink, cold and uncaring under her shaking hands. The reflection wasn’t flattering; sunken eye sockets with pained pools in a ghostly face and against that backdrop of sickly white the shocking evidence of deep red blood around her nose, streaking visibly across damp cheeks where she’d swiped at it.
Oh God, I look like a hag. At that errant thought a mirthless laugh escaped unglossed lips. A few weeks back she’d started to complain constantly about having to do without cosmetics, until fed-up Angel told her to quit moaning and she was stunning anyway. At the time she’d been too proud to admit he’d made her day, a pity since she was pretty sure he wouldn’t be barking that at her now.
At least the vision got them out of Wolfram & Hart in one piece, detouring around the waiting demons that had somehow found out they were working towards fixing the 2000 catastrophe. The vision images were still crystal but the rest was a blur with echoing voices.
“Cordelia, dammit, can you hear me?” Angel was holding her, no surprises there.
“She’s having a vision.” Trust Wes to state the obvious.
Angel was impatient with a hint of panic, “I know that, Wes, it’s just…”
Interrupting she blurted out the details in fits and starts, stammering to get it out and make sense of the freight train whistling and juddering in her head. Voices faded in and out.
“Let’s get out… back… leads to…”
“What about…”
“Later”
The next thing she knew she was being carried, her legs dangling free and in the rush a shoe came off to fall unnoticed to the sewer floor. Her cheek rhythmically brushed against fresh cotton smelling of laundry detergent and the tiniest hint of cool male spice. Underneath, hard immovable planes of muscle acted as a cushion, while steel bands cradled her effortlessly.
The feeling of weightlessness was disorienting but so much better than trying to struggle along on her own unsteady and one barefoot feet. Finally the vision headache’s first punishing grip receded enough for her to lift her groggy, pain stabbing head, “I can walk,” she mumbled embarrassed despite the crashing pain and pushed weakly against Angel’s chest. As a distraction the warm sticky flow dripping on one hand, alerting her to the blood streaming from her nose was unbeatable.
Oh God, she’d stained his shirt. “Let me go.”
Dizzy, nausea bubbled threateningly and tears stung. “No,” he’d said shortly. And that was that.
Angel had insisted on driving back to the office before heading out and she wasn’t sure but Cordelia thought she’d stayed in the back with him, the blanket draped securely over the both of them. Well that was a first. Then back in his basement apartment he’d even threatened her with Wesley as baby sitter until she’d convinced him alone was better.
She’d been lying, alone wasn’t better but the one she wanted with her was him and he definitely needed to be on the Gundry guest list so she kept that to herself, settling for shooing them all out and using impatience for peace as a prod.
But not before Angel laid down the law. She’d been lying on his bed with Angel sitting next to her hip looking down at her all stern and strangely knowing. Cordelia’s stomach dropped even further, guessing that somehow, some way he knew.
Uneasily she jumped into the silence, “Angel, I-“
His hand squeezed hers demanding she stop, “Whatever it is- it can wait. Rest, Cordelia.”
Her hand felt strange in his large one like a songbird trapped in an ivory cage. Uh oh, there was that skin-tingling intimacy again brushing aside pain like so much flotsam. Her smile was uneasy, “Ever think to yourself I need a vacation? Well that’s me, I was thinking Disney world. Evil stepmothers I can handle, you know?”
It didn’t work and intensity of that probing gaze didn’t dissolve. “Don’t doubt it. Now, I mean it no exceptions, rest.”
Angel burst her bubble, “And when I get back you and I are going to talk.”
Remembering that last conversation before the guys took off, her eyelids drooped to screen suddenly careening emotions. Angel at his no-nonsense, stubborn best. Against the odds the relief had been incredible and weakening with the downside being that denial was no longer possible. Pretending was over… Cordelia Chase, ex-bitch of Sunnydale was belly clenching, crap inducing scared; the kind of fear that consumes you from the inside out, making your bowels stand to attention.
Without permission a keening sob forced its way up. Choking on it Cordelia bit her lip tasting blood to no avail. Horrifyingly this time it wouldn’t be held back.
“Oh God, I don’t wanna die,” her head hit the glass with a despairing thunk and shaking hands covered wet cheeks, but die she would and not next decade or year or even month; soon.
She’d been an unwilling horror-stricken witness when her aunty on her mother’s side died in hospital a long time ago and never forgotten it. She’d been visiting with her parents after a routine operation that should have gone smoothly, only her aunt had an embolism while they were standing there and it was if she became a fountain of blood. It spurted everywhere, even streaming out of her eyes as she swayed, lurching about the bed reaching for them, while her mom screamed and screamed fit to burst young Cordy’s ears until finally the nursing staff barrelled in, answering the blaring alarm and shoving them out of the room.
Her Aunt Teresa had known she was dying, you could see it in her red welling terror-stricken eyes. Ogodogod… “Please, make this stop,” the plea was whisper thin with hopelessness.
Now the pressure in Cordelia’s head was a vice, screwing tighter as a matching terror wrenched it hard and fast. Pressing the heels of her hands to her temples she swayed, vision swimming with tears that streamed, as did her nose to splatter deeply red into the sink. Freezing to stare down at the bloody patterns diluted with drops of water Cordelia became strangely calm, after all so much of her life was about blood these days. Maybe she should donate it to Angel?
Hands dropping to clutch the sink again Cordelia slid her eyelids shut, fighting for calm. Memories of her life flashed behind the closed lids; arguing with Buffy over Angel and refusing to believe he was a vampire, Xander turning away at the hospital after she’d rebuffed him, Russell Winters cornering her in his mansion and the sheer relief when Angel appeared out of nowhere to save her. Then Doyle, his face melting away as the half-demon died so they could live.
Dammit, why me? Why did you have to give the visions to me, what’d I do?
Shocked to the core her head shot up, eyes glaring at herself with a fire re-lit in the shadowed depths. Whoa, where had that come from? “Okay, that’s enough! You need a refresher of why whining and crying doesn’t work. Didn’t you see enough of that in good ole Sunnyhell?”
Angrily she ran the tap, scrunching up the washcloth to wet it before roughly wiping away any evidence of weakness. “Giving up is for losers and Cordelia Chase is *not* and never will be a loser. This vision-thing is not gonna beat me and no matter what I won’t just… curl up and die like some schmuck.”
Finished she finger combed her hair, puffing out her cheeks to take away the gaunt shape of too prominent bones. In the mirror Cordelia’s reflection stared fiercely determined back at her, “I’m strong, stronger than anyone knows, even Angel. I will get through this. It’s gonna be okay.” There was colour back in her cheeks. Okay, so far so good c’mon keep it going; you can do this.
Rising back up from the depths had never been so hard but the euphoria of making it was already intoxicating. Hands planted on the sink Cordelia leant in delivering the fait accompli, “Surviving my life so far hasn’t exactly been a picnic and I’m still here, so what’s one more little miracle against all that?”
Two pinched cheeks and one practice of a big smile later and Cordelia was ready to face the world again, or at least their tiny portion of it, “Hope springs eternal, I like it.”
***
Gundry lived in a part of town that looked like maybe squalor would be more than a few steps up, at least until you got past the mystical barriers that cloaked what it really was… a luxury complex complete with power. Craning his neck to see the uppermost floors Wesley felt a wistful sentimentality for the clear, steady and most importantly un-flickering yellow glow from a few of the windows.
“Looks like we hit pay-dirt,” Angel murmured similarly scanning for details; automatically logging the layout and identifying potential hotspots for trouble, thinking to himself that two centuries of stalking was at least good for honing the senses and skills for tracking prey, or when required avoiding detection.
“It would seem so,” agreed Wesley pulling down the goggles and touching his jacket lightly, reassuring himself that the throwing axe was still where it should be.
“I- I don’t- maybe we should um… come back. I could go back at least and you two can do whatever it is-” trailing off David Nabbit shifted on both feet, arms still wrapped around the laptop case as if it held the Holy Grail. If it fixed the technology crisis Angel was willing to build it a shrine.
“You’re better off with us,” denied Angel leading the way and sparing him only a glance. Not to mention if the man was being hunted he wanted him far away from the apartment and Cordelia. Angel had learnt his lesson with Barney, the now very dead demon auctioneer.
“We may need a software expert to deal with this creature anyway,” added Wesley offering a reassuring smile and thinking to himself that the ex-millionaire should count himself lucky he wasn’t having to face Cordelia’s derisive pointing out of damp patches that circled both armpits, dipping nearly all the way down to the dishevelled blue shirts scraggly hem.
As for Angel, he was in what the Englishman termed the vampire’s ‘battle mode’, where sympathy or understanding for mortal fear took a back seat to necessity. However, for the ex-watcher it came much easier bearing in mind it wasn’t too long ago that his own nerves had been similarly hovering too near the surface.
Working at Angel Investigation was changing that. Thank God.
“What was the number again?” asked Wesley as they walked up to the touch-pad speaker phone at the entrance doors, surprised to be able to feel the hum of electricity all around them, as if the last month’s lack had made him super sensitive to something that he’d once taken for granted.
It was David Nabbit who got in first, “1125 but don’t bother ringing it. If it’s one of Ultra Securities I created the program it operates off.”
While Angel spared a moment to marvel that the man had managed to string a whole sentence together without stammering, Wesley caught on to his meaning, “You left yourself a back door, a key almost?”
Nodding Nabbit hesitated to think before reeling off a string of numbers. Not expecting success Angel keyed them in and was utterly unable to hide his surprise when the lock audibly clicked back, “it worked,” he stated dumbly, reaching for the long metal handle to check the sturdy door was indeed passable, swinging it open effortlessly.
“Well yeah- I told you,” David shrugged ducking his head sheepishly and basking in having discomforted the seemingly unflappable vampire.
Impressed and hiding a smile Wesley walked through, passing Angel with a careless, “so, now it’s open let’s make use of it before we get found and booted out again.”
Angel was missing something he just knew it, “Booted, Wesley?”
“I have been known to use slang in the past, Angel, it’s hardly a red-letter day,” was the dry reply floating back from somewhere further inside.
After being so long in the dark the chandelier dangling from the foyer ceiling hurt his eyes. Squinting, Angel shrugged irritably and gave it up, holding the door open with absent civility for the other human to enter before him.
***
Gundry was pottering, tinkering with his treasures the way a fictional King Midas may have done with his hordes of gold. Saucer-wide milky blue eyes blinking, the small green skinned Kezzra demon ran long spindly fingers over cold metal rods and moulded plastic luxuriating in the feeling of power garnered from creating something that worked smoothly, efficiently and met all of his expectations.
Lost in his own little world the unexpected knock at the door had the demon freezing and drawing in on himself like turtle into a translucent shell, hating the idea of visitors. “Who is it?” he called out in a weedy voice, hoping he could send them on their way without having to bother focusing on their petty business.
“Lindsay MacDonald of Wolfram & Hart has sent us with an urgent request.”
The voice was precise, uncluttered and annoyingly one Gundry couldn’t ignore. Wolfram & Hart were benefactors worth pandering to. “Darned human’s, never know when to leave a demon alone to get on with his work. Seriously, if Mr McDonald wants his time-machine *on* time and properly commissioned then he should…”
The door crashed back before Gundry had ambled over more than halfway and still in mid-grumble, leaving the demon shocked and stumbling back, staring at the ominous man more than twice his height filling the now open door frame.
“Did you say time-machine?”
… A few minutes later and Gundry was still flapping, gibbering almost at having three stranger’s interfering with his treasures. David Nabbit was in hog heaven while for once Wesley joined Angel in being left, dumbly shaking their heads and wondering if techno babble really was another language.
Not liking the feeling of being impossibly ignorant Angel concentrated on what he did understand, lifting and dumping the thin and delicate little demon onto a counter where his sneaker clad feet swung at least three foot off the floor, “You’re not moving from there until you tell me about this virus you let loose.”
Blinking at the looming vampire Gundry shrugged shoulders no wider than a child’s, “What’s to tell? I was asked to do one specific to dates and targeting operating and imbed systems. It was almost too easy.”
Hearing the indifference and resisting the urge to reach out and do some damage Angel growled long and low then straightened from the intimidating stance he’d taken up. Moving off to pace trying to think and calm the simmering emotions leftover from the post confession-vision-Cordelia scenario of earlier.
Knowing it was a dumb question Wesley asked it anyway, “Can it be reversed?”
The simple answer was, “no.”
Crossing his arms Angel’s eyes narrowed intently, “What if we go back in time to do it?”
What happened next still boggled the mind as he was suddenly reminded of Lindsay’s Jekyll and Hyde comment. At the mere mention of his precious invention being confiscated Gundry seemed to swell, in a very literal sense.