How to Treat Your Lover (A(us)/S, Buffy) NC-17 68-A/?
Title: How to Treat Your Lover (Book 5)
By Tami (tabrandt @ hotmail.com)
Disclaimer: The characters from ATS / BTVS are owned by Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, and Fox studios. This story is not meant to infringe upon anyone's rights, only to entertain.
BETA: Myself, Morgan
Rating: NC-17
Pairing - M/M, Angelus/Spike, Angel/Spike
Timeline - ATS Season 4/BTVS Season 7-AU
Summary - With both Angel and Cordelia still missing, Fred and Gunn try to keep Angel Investigations running while they search for their friends. Ironically, the man everyone believes betrayed Angel is the one who finally comes to Angel's rescue. Then, as suddenly as she had vanished, Cordelia inexplicably reappears with no recollection of her life or her friends. Unbeknownst to the team, things aren’t always what they appear. Even as Cordelia regains her memory, she harbors a secret that will change their lives forever. Finally, Spike returns from his sojourn abroad with his gift to Angel that leaves him mentally unstable. Meanwhile, in Sunnydale, Dawn starts her sophomore year at the new Sunnydale High School with a mysterious new principal that may shake things up. Oh, and there's an apocalypse a'comin' on two fronts.
Feedback - It would be appreciated. My plot bunny has been lagging lately.
Author's Note - This story came to me after watching how Buffy treated Spike in SMASHED - AS YOU WERE (BTVS, Season 6). I wondered how Angel would truly feel, if he really knew how Buffy mistreated Spike. Yes, Spike is the Big Bad, and he and Angel normally don't see eye-to-eye, but they are family nonetheless
Word Count: 10,229 overall
How to Treat Your Lover Soundtrack (Feel free to suggest a song/scene)
( Book 1 )
( Book 2 )
( Book 3 )
( Book 4 )
( Previous Chapters for Book 5 )
**************************
Chapter 68: Step 5 - Acceptance (Part 1)
Los Angeles, Random Alley, Night
A young woman walked alone through the empty alley in the dark, her footsteps echoing back to her from the concrete walls. Suddenly, a vampire leaped out from behind a dumpster and she screamed in fear. From his Batman-like vantage point atop a nearby high-rise building, Angel heard her scream.
“Please, you don’t have to do this,” the girl begged, slowly backing away from the vampire. "I can get you money. You don’t have -” The vampire interrupted her pleas, grabbing her, and she shrieked, “Somebody help! Aah! Aah!”
Angel sprinted across the rooftop, grabbing a guide cable and jumping heedlessly over the edge of the rooftop. Swinging into the alley like Spider-Man, he delivered a kick to the attacking vampire's face, knocking him to the pavement. Performing a mid-air back-flip, Angel released the cable, landing in the alley with his leather coat billowing about him like Batman's cape in a convenient Gotham breeze. He turned around, casually sauntering toward the downed vampire.
“Doesn’t sound like the lady’s interested,” Angel observed conversationally. “Maybe you’re coming off as too needy.”
The vampire got to his feet, launching a side kick into Angel’s ribs, and the terrified young woman looked on as the vampires traded punches. Angel kicked the attacking vampire in the chest, knocking him to the ground, but the vampire was up on his feet in a matter of seconds, charging Angel again. Angel grabbed the vampire’s foot, spinning him around in the air, before slamming him into one of the alley walls. As the vampire collapsed on the pavement again, Angel drew a wooden stake from his belt, twirling it like a gunslinger might twirl a Colt six-shooter, then plunged it dramatically into the vampire’s chest. The vampire obligingly disappeared in a cloud of frustrated dust.
“What ju -” the girl gasped in awe. “I don’t understand.”
“Look, don’t try. Just get yourself home and stay out of dark alleys. You’ll be all right.” Angel’s smile was pasted on, lacking real comfort.
As he turned to walk away, the girl persisted, “But - who are you?”
“No one,” Angel replied tonelessly, without looking back at her.
Angel perked up as cars screeched to a halt in front of him. A group of armed men dressed in black SWAT-type Kevlar gathered at one end of the alley, pointing their weapons in Angel’s direction.
“Angel!” one of the men addressed him with relief in his voice. He clicked on his mic and reported, Area’s secure. Angel is unharmed. Hostile’s contained. Sweep area and confirm.” He pulled off his ski mask. “Angel, sir.”
Several cars pulled up to the end of the alley, all of them directing their headlights at Angel. A second group of people deployed from these vehicles, walking out of the light, toward the vampire.
“Angel!” a lawyer greeted.
“We got report of your movement and came for backup,” the man in Kevlar explained.
“But -” Angel was mystified by the congregation of people in the alley.
“I’m Agent Hauser. I run your operations team,” the man in Kevlar introduced himself.
“Angel!” the lawyer exclaimed, catching up to them. “Hi, Glad we caught you. Really would -” The man turned to a notary behind him, “Get the forms from her.” He turned back to Angel. “Really would prefer it if you didn’t leave a rescue scenario until we had a chance to control the scene. Of course, that is your decision, sir, but -”
“How did you guys -?” Angel asked, confused about why his law firm was assembled in the random, filthy alley.
The lawyer gestured at Angel's suit. “There’s a tracking device in your lapel. And what a time-saver, too, huh?” he sighed in relief, glancing at his wristwatch.
A woman in a three-piece business skirt, sporting a severely tight bun of hair, stepped close to the girl whom Angel had just rescued. She shoved a contract into the girl’s startled face. “This is to confirm that you have been rescued by Angel, CEO and President of Wolfram & Hart.” A pen was stuffed into the girl’s hand, and she blindly signed the lines where she was directed, completely mystified by the whole night. Her roommate was not going to believe a word of this when she got back home. The businesswoman was flipping through the paperwork as soon as she signed, or initialed, each page. “And this is to indemnify Wolfram & Hart of any -”
Angel was still looking around, trying to figure out what the hell was going on, while the lawyer was still rattling his ear off. Suddenly, he was shoved in the girl’s direction.
“If we can just get a couple of pictures of you two, that would be great,” the lawyer said cheerfully. While the bulbs flashed, the lawyer stepped in close, whispering, “Now, uh, the vampire that you terminated, he actually did work for one of your clients.” The lawyer cringed at that thought, but waved it away with a grin. “But, hey! It’s your first week, no one will squawk, right?” He clapped Angel on the shoulder before walking away.
“You run a law firm?” the girl asked him, while still signing away her rights and absolving Wolfram & Hart of any wrongdoing.
“No!” Angel exclaimed innocently, but looked around at the mob of suits in the alley. “I mean - well, sort of. I mean - just lately.”
The businesswoman was still flipping through pages, oblivious to their conversation. “I need you to initial here, concerning your immortal soul.”
Signing the document where indicated, the girl asked Angel, with a tone of disgust, “You did this for publicity?”
“No!” Angel insisted. “I help -” realizing how silly it sounded now, he trailed off, “the helpless.”
Suddenly, the lawyer was back, buzzing in his ear. “Would you like me to bring your car around, sir? Or anything at all? A mocha perhaps? Decaf?”
Angel continued to stare at the array of people in utter disbelief.
**************************
Los Angeles, Wolfram & Hart, Lobby
The mail clerk pushed a basket filled with office mail along a hallway. Atop the pile of envelopes and packages is an envelope addressed to Angel. As the clerk passed the elevator, the arrival bell dinged. Both front and back panels of the elevator opened and Fred stood there, confused, holding a box of her personal belongings. She looked out of the wrong side while Wesley approached the elevators from the lobby side, carrying a coffee mug.
“Fred?” Wesley inquired.
“Wesley!” Fred squealed, just as the elevators were beginning to shut. Finally, someone she recognized. Wesley lurched forward, holding open the doors as Fred stepped into the lobby. “Oh, I’m always getting turned around.” She finally took in the expanse of the lobby with an expression of awe.
“Can I help you with that box?” Wesley offered.
“It’s so big!” Fred exclaimed, still intimidated by the lobby.
Wesley followed her example, examining the lobby as well. “It does take some getting used to.”
“Have you seen my lab?” Fred asked excitedly, glancing at him. “It’s giganamous! And I’m in charge!”
“I’m sure you’ll have no trouble -” he began, but she cut him off.
“I don’t even understand half of what they’re doing. There’s this machine, six feet tall, it makes this noise - whoompa! Whoompa! Phht! Not a clue.”
“Well, I’m still stuck back at: ‘Why on earth are we here?’” Wesley told her.
“You mean because we’re crusaders against evil and now the law firm that represents most of the evil in the world has given us its L.A. branch to run however we want, probably in an attempt to corrupt, divide, or destroy us, and we all said yes in, like, three minutes?”
Fred’s rambling caused Wesley to take a deep breath, and he nodded. “Your run-on sentences have gotten a lot less pointless.”
“Oh, that’s sweet,” Fred smiled. “And a tad condescending.”
“Are you sure I can’t help you -” Wesley gestured toward the box in her arms.
“Ms. Burkle!” an employee from the lab called out, rushing down the stairs.
Wesley and Fred both swiveled around one hundred-eighty degrees to see a young man jogging towards them.
“Hi! Oh, um, Wesley, this is Knox. And I told you to call me Fred,” she added, addressing Knox.
“Yes, and a-any minute now, I’m going to start. Ha! That’s a promise from me to you.” He pointed at the box in her arms. “Can I help with that?”
Oh, thank you,” Fred smiled graciously, brown eyes sparkling.
“So, Knox, how long have you been, uh, evil?” Wesley asked, his tone clipped.
“Oh! Heh! I just mix the potions, you know? And now that I’m taking orders from el jefe here, I’ll probably be saving the world on a weekly basis.
Fred giggled at that, the corners of her eyes crinkling.
“Good for you,” Wesley remarked flatly, eyes narrowing.
“Do you know how to get to your office from here?” Knox addressed Fred.
Why, did somebody eat my breadcrumbs?” she teased.
“Ha! It’s not that hard. I’ll show you.”
“Thanks, Knoxy,” Fred said cheerfully, following him to the stairs. She turned back to Wesley with a cavalier, “See ya!”
“Oh, it was nice to meet you!” Knox called back to Wesley before they ascended the stairs together.
Wesley was watching Fred leave when Gunn yelled, “Think fast!” He threw a basketball toward Wesley, who caught it against his belly with one hand, because the other still held the coffee mug. “Ha! Gotta be faster than that in this place.”
“Cricket’s more my game,” Wesley replied distractedly.
“I’ve made up my mind,” Gunn glanced towards the stairs then back at Wesley. “How’s Fred doing?”
“I’m sure Knoxy will take wonderful care of her.” That caused a confused expression to cross Gunn’s features. “Don’t you think it’s a bit unseemly to add Y’s on the end of people’s names?”
“Does that mean I have to call you ‘Westle’?” Gunn inquired.
Wesley frowned at that. “Made up your mind about what?”
Gunn pulled Wesley towards two offices that were separated by a wall. “Oh! I want the one on the left. This one makes me feel a little bit less completely out of place. I’d say seventeen percent less. Plus-,” he spread his arms out toward the floor to ceiling windows that had necromancy-tempered glass. “A little bit of a view of the mountains. I’ve lived my whole life in L.A., now I find out there are mountains. A brother should be told!”
“It’s very nice,” Wesley agreed, admiring Gunn’s choice of an office.
“So is yours. I mean, if it works for you,” Gunn said, walking to the adjoining office. “We can switch if you don’t like the - you know, the kung pao or whatever.”
“Feng shui,” Wesley corrected.
“Right,” Gunn nodded, then shook his head, totally lost. “What’s that mean again?”
“That people will believe anything. Actually, in this place, feng shui will probably have enormous significance. I’ll align my furniture the wrong way and suddenly catch fire, or turn into pudding,” Wesley mused.
“Are you having second thoughts?” Gunn asked.
“You’re not?” Wesley asked skeptically.
“Man, do I look like I belong here? You got the mystical creds at least. I just hit stuff. I mean, even if this works, and we can turn this place around, use it to do some good, it’s going to be a long, long while before any of us gets anywhere near comfortable here,” Gunn said.
Just then, they turned to see Lorne walk by, comfortably talking on a cell phone accompanied by an assistant who was carrying three binders.
“Oh, sweetie, it’s perfect! Yes, it’s perfect. It’s the project you’ve been waiting for. Yeah, it’s Joanie Loves Chachi meets The Sorrow and the Pity. It’s Joanie Loves Pity. And you’re -” Lorne put the phone to his shoulder and nods at one of the binders the assistant had opened up. “Yes, that carpet’s great because I want our clients to become dizzy and vomit. Keep flipping, huh?” Lorne put the phone back to his ear. “Yes, you’re a shoo-in. The part’s yours. Yeah, I’ve got a whole freezer full of horses’ heads downstairs. No, I’m just kidding. But listen, the producer’s a client, so read it and we’ll talk.” The man with the binders tapped him on the arm and Lorne put his hand over the receiver. “Okay. Better. Horrible and pathetic, but better.”
As Lorne and his assistant passed them, the elevator doors opened to reveal Angel standing inside.
“You lost, boss?” Gunn teased as Angel stumbled out of the elevator.
Angel approached Gunn and Wesley. “On a lot of levels.” He gestured widely with his hands. “Did you hear what happened to me last night?” He started across the lobby, flanked by Gunn and Wesley.
“Did you get lucky?” Gunn guessed.
As if Gunn hadn’t spoken, Angel continued, “They put a tracer on me. I was working the town, helping the helpless, which is a thing I like to do. All of a sudden, the entire firm shows up in the alley.”
“We’ll make sure it doesn’t happen again,” Wesley assured him.
Buttoning his jacket, Angel made a vow, “We’re turning this place inside out. If they want to see how I handle running Wolfram & Hart, they’re going to find out. Everything must go -”
**************************
Los Angeles, Wolfram & Hart, Angel’s Office
Angel casually opened the double doors leading into his office and came to an abrupt halt, silenced by what he saw on his huge oak desk. “Starting with that.”
A young woman wearing a red business skirt-suit perched too comfortably on the edge of Angel’s desk, her long legs crossed, their shapeliness accentuated by an accent light shining down on her from overhead.
“Hi. It’s really neat to see you guys,” she greeted them with an overabundance of cheer.
Angel unbuttoned his jacket, approaching her with clear mistrust. “I’m pretty sure this is supposed to be my office.”
“It’ll never happen again,” she replied, with obviously false contrition. “I just wanted to, you know, see your face.”
“You like to make an entrance,” Angel observed dryly.
“Do you always open both doors when you enter a room?” she asked. When Angel looked away from her she continued, “I don’t need to make an entrance. I need to make an impression. I’m going to be your liaison to the firm. I’ll help you find your way. My name is Eve. And just to get the whole irony thing out of the way -” she picked up a shiny red apple from the desk, throwing it at Angel.
He easily caught the apple with one hand, glancing at it. “Who do you answer to?”
“The Senior Partners, and if you’re thinking, which, by the way, you are, that you can use me to get to them, let go of the dream. I answer to them. I don’t lunch with them.”
“Still - a pretty powerful position for a young woman,” Wesley observed.
“How, exactly, can you be sure I’m either of those things?” Eve asked coyly. She slipped off the desk, beginning to pace the room. “Okay, let me tell you how this works.”
“I thought I was in charge,” Angel interrupted.
Eve nodded. “Of the Los Angeles offices of a multi-dimensional corporation. Now, I’m stressing that last word because that’s what we are. We’re a business, and we have a bottom line. Now, you could take your new client lists and start hacking away from the top down. A lot of our clients are demons, and - almost all of them are evil.”
“Almost?” Angel repeated, raising an eyebrow.
“Things are always more complicated than they seem, champ,” Eve shook her head. “You can shut this place down, but - then - well, you wouldn’t have it anymore. If the place closes down, the connections dry up. Evil will go next door. This is the catch - I’m explaining the catch so you don’t have to stand around wondering what it is. See, in order to keep this business running, you have to keep this business running. And that means keeping your clients - most of them, anyway - happy.”
“It means letting them get away with stuff,” Gunn remarked, clearly disliking that idea.
Eve chuckled. “Sweetie, they were getting away with it while you were all sitting around your hotel waiting for the phone to jangle. Well, you’re on the ins now, and you can stop the worst of it.” She shrugged. “Maybe find some new solutions to some old problems.” Then she slipped into annoyingly chipper high gear. “Come on! Isn't anybody excited? This is a crazy time for fun. The most powerful evil around has given a pivotal position over to its sworn enemies. You’re not scared, are you?”
Angel glared at Eve, taking an expressive bite of the apple, pleased by the crunch it made.
“The client files are all in there,” Eve pointed toward the adjoining conference room. “You might want to start going through them.”
***************************
Los Angeles, Wolfram & Hart Conference Room, Midnight
Angel, Lorne, Fred, Wesley and Gunn were assembled around a conference table laden with stacks of file folders, and they were clearly exhausted.
“This is unbelievable,” Angel announced, glancing over the table for the umpteenth time. It didn’t look like they'd made the slightest dent in the stacks.
“I think I lost my appetite. Which is a first,” Fred commented.
“Hmm, this is interesting,” Lorne said to himself, reading the file currently in front of him. “Apparently Joe Kennedy tried to get out of his deal with the firm.”
“That explains a lot,” Angel observed.
“Yeah, but George Senior - he read the fine print. There’s no one these guys don’t have a piece of,” Lorne declared.
Angel stood up, stretching to rid his tired muscles of innumerable kinks he didn't think he could still be afflicted with. “How are we even supposed to start making things right?” He tossed his file on the table, disheartened.
“Here’s a winner,” Gunn interjected. “Corbin Fries. On trial for smuggling Asian girls in for cheap labor and prostitution. Been charged with drugs, gun running, nothing stuck.”
“And that’s one of our human clients,” Wesley drawled. “Can’t imagine what the demon ones are like.”
“Looks like the trial’s not going too well this time,” Gunn read further.
“Hm, first good news I’ve heard all day,” Angel commented.
Gunn closed the file, looking at the table. “I can’t even remember which pile is which.”
Angel shrugged nonchalantly. “I’ll get my secretary to go through it in the morning.” Then he thought about his statement. “Do I have a secretary?”
“I imagine they’ll find you someone who can stomach the idea of working for the side of the righteous,” Wesley quipped.
“My impression is a lot of these guys are just opportunistic. They’ll go with the flow,” Gunn postulated.
“You do know we’re going to have to check the whole staff, make sure we don’t have any die-hard evildoers plotting against us,” Fred pointed out.
Wesley sat back in his chair with a groan. “And here I was, worrying about the clients.”
“We’re doing the right thing - right?” Angel asked for affirmation from the others.
“Well, uh -.” Lorne sat forward then rose. “We’re doing it tomorrow, exalted one. My horns are falling asleep.”
“Yeah,” Angel agreed. “You guys get some rest.”
“What about you?” Fred asked.
“I’ll work a while yet. Go on,” Angel told her, grabbing another folder and sitting back in his chair.
**************************
Los Angeles, Wolfram &; Hart, Gunn’s Office, Night
Gunn walked back to his office, intending to grab his jacket before heading home. Someone spoke to him from a dark corner.
“It was a lot simpler fighting vamps on the street, wasn’t it? Tricked-out pickup, loyal gang, just you and the pointy wood against the living dead,” Eve remarked.
Gunn watched her walk into the light from the hallway. “Is this going to be a thing with you: jumping out at people, or do you just not have an office of your own?”
“I’m just wondering if you’re ready for the next step,” Eve said.
“Or if maybe I’d like to go back to living on the street, eating garbage and watching my buddies get picked off one by one?” Gunn nodded sarcastically. “Yeah, that was the life.”
Eve came closer. “So you’re not backing out?”
“You don’t know me, or you wouldn’t ask that question.”
“I can see why the Senior Partners chose you.” She handed him a business card. “Have fun.” She walked out of the room, but not before tossing over her shoulder, “You’ll feel like new man.”
Gunn read the card as he strolled over to his doorway then leaned there.
Wesley was leaned against his own doorway, watching Eve sashay out of the building. “What did she mean?”
Gunn held the card between his index and middle fingers. “Tailor. Guess I’m not dressed for success.” He shrugged.
**************************
Los Angeles, Wolfram & Hart, the next morning
Angel sifted through the papers on his desk, picking up the envelope that was mailed to him, but tossing it aside without opening it. Instead, he pressed a button on his phone.
“Um, can I get a cup of coffee or something?” he spoke to the phone.
“You have reached ritual sacrifice. For goats, press one, or say ‘goats’,” the automated voice said.
Angel hastily pressed the button to end the call, trying a different button. “Hello?”
“This is Angel’s office. How can I help you?” a woman’s screechy voice said in greeting.
“This is AngelNo, this is his new assistant,” she said perkily.
“No, this is Angel,” he insisted.
“Are you sure?” she asked suspiciously.
Angel scoffed and spoke more to himself than to her, “Less and less. Look, can I get a cup of coffee? Or if there’s blood -”
“Oh!” the woman exclaimed, finally catching on. “Right away.”
Angel pressed a button to end the call, but he was switched to the previous call. “To sacrifice loved ones, or a pet, press the pound -”
Angel hastily pressed the button to hang up, holding it down longer this time, until he heard the dial tone. He stared at the phone, disgusted for a moment, then went back to his papers. The phone rang and he answered it via speaker phone.
“Hello?” Angel said uncertainly, in case it was the demonic tele-tree again.
“It’s Wesley. Can I stop in? We might be into a situation?” Wesley said.
Angel’s assistant brought him a mug, placing it on his desk in front of him. “Uh, sure. Come on by.” He sipped from the mug and then looked up as his secretary. “Harmony?”
Harmony smiled, greeting him cheerily, “Hey, boss.”
“You’re my secretary?” Angel asked in disbelief.
Harmony sighed indignantly. “Hello! Assistant.”
“Explain why I shouldn’t kill you,” Angel asked with a hard tone.
“Secretary’s fine,” Harmony quickly corrected.
Angel put down his mug, rising and slowly stalking her around his desk. “No, it’s not fine. Where is it fine? You’ve been working here?”
“Yeah-huh,” Harmony gulped, backing away from him.
“Why?” he asked.
Harmony scoffed. “Well, duh! I’m a single, undead gal trying to make it in the big city. I have to start somewhere. And they’re evil here, they don’t judge. They’ve also got the necro-tempered glass.” She danced in front of the window. “No burning up. And a great medical plan, and who needs dental more than us?”
“This is surreal,” Angel groaned, massaging his forehead.
“Now, before you go threatening to fire me -” Harmony began.
“I threatened to kill you,” Angel corrected.
Harmony backed up slowly at his glare. “Don’t let’s quibble. Before anything, just think - I’m strong, I’m quick, I’m incredibly sycophantic - if that means what that guy said - and I type like a superhero - if there was a superhero whose power was typing. And, hey, we keep the same hours. Creatures of the night -” she held her fist up in a show of solidarity. “Unite!” She shrugged, handing him the mug again. “How do you like your blood?”
“Tell me that’s not -” Angel cringed at the thought of it being human blood and the idea that the law firm has a tele-tree option to sacrifice loved ones and pets.
“It’s pig’s blood,” Harmony assured him. “I’m totally off the human blood. That’s not even a thing.”
Angel smelled the liquid. “It tastes -”
“Pretty good, right?” Harmony finished for him. “The extra ingredient is otter.”
Wesley chose that moment to knock once, open the door, and let himself in. “Angel, it’s one of our cases. It’s becoming problematic.” He was momentarily brought up short at the sight of Harmony, before giving her a nod in greeting. “Harmony.”
“Hey, Wes.”
“You knew she was -” Angel sighed, shaking his head.
Harmony smiled at Wesley. “He’s the one that picked me out of the steno pool.”
“But why - you, uh,” Angel sighed again.
“Well, I thought a familiar face would be just the thing in a place like this,” Wesley defended his choice of assistants.
Angel looked between Wesley and Harmony. “You turned evil a lot faster than I thought you would.”
“Nonsense,” Wesley countered.
“We’re going to get along great, boss,” Harmony assured Angel. “The whole gang. I mean, Cordy is going to lose it when she finds out -” She noticed that Wesley and Angel were frowning and refusing to look at each other. “I mean - you are going to tell her you’re okay with this, right? I mean, I know she was mad at me for trying to kill you all, but she wouldn’t - I mean -”
“I thought she knew,” Wesley said apologetically.
“Cordy’s sick. She’s in a coma,” Angel told her.
Harmony covered her mouth in shock. “Oh, God. I-I didn’t - What happened? Is she going to be okay?”
“We don’t know,” Angel replied. It was the only sure thing he knew right now.
Harmony sniffled, close to tears. “Cordy was my best friend, like - my whole life. She’s my role model. How can she -” She sighed sadly then suddenly became chipper again. “So, anyway, I really think you should not fire me, and Wes does too.”
To change the topic, Wesley said, “Harmony, would you ask the men in my office to join us, please?”
“Righty-oh,” Harmony chirped, nodding and leaving the room.
“If there’s a way to help Cordelia, we will find it,” Wesley assured Angel.
Angel nodded, moving on to more pressing matters. “What’s the case?”
Wesley handed a folder over to him. “Corbin Fries. The lowest piece of pond scum I’ve met in, oh, hours. He’s about to get twenty years for kidnapping, pimping -”
“I saw the file,” Angel interrupted, handing the folder back to Wesley.
“Yeah, well, personally, I think he deserves to be eaten by weasels, but he’s hinting we’d better help him,” Wesley filled in the missing pieces. “Threatening actually.”
The door opened, and Harmony escorted a couple of men into the office.
“Mr. Fries,” Angel greeted.
“Mr. Fries, this is Angel,” Harmony introduced.
“I’ve been bringing him up to speed on your case,” Wesley informed his client as he gestured for them all to sit on the couch at the other side of the office.
“Terrific,” Corbin Fries said flatly.
A lawyer introduced himself. “Desmond Keel.”
“He’s one of ours,” Wesley added for Angel's benefit.
“Nice to meet you,” Angel replied, with blatant insincerity.
“I’ve heard, uh, things,” Desmond stammered.
“Would anybody like coffee?” Harmony cordially inquired.
“Oh yeah,” Corbin Fries threw his hands in the air as he sat down. “Let’s all chit-chat and have tea and crumpets because I got so much time. Here’s the skinny: Tomorrow the D.A. puts my tit in a wringer for good and all, and that - does not stand with me. Butt-munch here, he got his law degree at dog training school.” That caused Harmony to giggle, but she sobered at a sharp look from Angel. Corbin Fries continued, “And the prosecution has everything they’ve ever dreamed of.”
“Because you’re guilty,” Angel blandly stated the obvious.
“Of course I’m guilty. What the hell are you changing the subject for?” Corbin asked incredulously. “The point is: when Holland Manners was running things, this would’ve never got to trial. Now, I bring a lot of money into this firm, more than most, and I don’t do that so that I can be handed over to the fucking law.” He jabbed a finger at Angel. “You got to get me off.”
Angel gave him a considering look. “It’s strange, my lack of incentive.”
“Do you think I give a rat’s ass about your new regime here?” Corbin Fries spat. At Angel’s raised eyebrow, he said, “Yeah, I know who you are, and I care to the sum of zero. You’re my lawyers. And if you don’t do every last thing to keep me out of jail, you will regret it.”
His lawyer, Desmond Keel took over from there, sounding more pragmatic. “We can’t dance around this one. We’re not in a position to have anyone killed.” Angel and Wesley glanced at him, and he rushed to assure them, “Not that we would. And the jury’s, uh, tamper-proof. Literally, I think one of the D.A.’s shamans have conjured a mystical shield around them.”
“So this one has to be won on the merits of the case,” Wesley concluded.
“Now, we have top men on this -” Desmond Keel started to say.
“Who are doing jack!” Corbin Fries cut him off. “I am not going to be made an example of. Either you get me off tomorrow -”
“I think you should calm down,” Angel commanded.
Corbin Fries jumped to his feet, getting into Angel’s face. “To hell with calm down. Either you get me off, or I drop the bomb!”
That got Wesley’s attention. “Bomb?”
“Let me put it this way; if they bring in a conviction, bye-bye California,” Corbin Fries mimicked a goodbye wave. “I say the magic word, the only people left standing are going to be the ones that already dead.”
Harmony heaved a sigh. “Well, that’s a relief.” Wesley and Angel looked at her and she stuttered, “I mean -” she pretended anger, pointing at the criminal. “Hey!”
**************************
Los Angeles, Wolfram & Hart, Conference Room
Lorne opened a notebook, addressing a room full of employees. “Okay, well, we all know why we’re here. So, why don’t we get started?”
He looked at the first name on the list. The rows next to the names were titled: OKAY, ON THE BUBBLE, EVIL, TO BE FIRED, and YIKES!
“Uh - Cindy,” Lorne double-checked the name. “Rabinowitz?”
Cindy stepped up, beginning to sing off-key, “There once was a woman who loved a man / He was the one that she took poison for / They say that nobody ever loved as much as she / But me, I love you more.”
**************************
Los Angeles, Wolfram & Hart, Fred’s Office
Knox was helping Fred move into her office. She hung a poster of the Dixie Chicks on her wall while Knox played with her toy duck.
“So - he can read minds?” Knox asked with casual curiosity.
“While you’re singing, he can sort of feel out your aura, your future. It should help us weed out the, you know, most evilest, which I’m sure you’re not,” Fred smiled supportively.
“Hey, I’ll go up there right now, warble away,” Knox offered. “I want you feeling one-hundred percent secure, running this lab.”
“Yeah, that’ll never happen in this lifetime,” Fred observed, tacking one corner of the poster to the wall. “Uh, evil aside, I’m not sure that I’m much of the running-things type. I’m more the running-away-from-things type.” She tacked the other corner of the poster to the wall.
The telephone buzzed, Fred answering it as Knox said, “Why do I have trouble believing that?”
“Maybe you’re not very bright,” Fred teased, then greeted the caller, “Hi, this is Fred. I mean, Practical Science Department, this is the Head - Fred.” She sighed in embarrassment. “How may I help you?”
Continued Here
By Tami (tabrandt @ hotmail.com)
Disclaimer: The characters from ATS / BTVS are owned by Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, and Fox studios. This story is not meant to infringe upon anyone's rights, only to entertain.
BETA: Myself, Morgan
Rating: NC-17
Pairing - M/M, Angelus/Spike, Angel/Spike
Timeline - ATS Season 4/BTVS Season 7-AU
Summary - With both Angel and Cordelia still missing, Fred and Gunn try to keep Angel Investigations running while they search for their friends. Ironically, the man everyone believes betrayed Angel is the one who finally comes to Angel's rescue. Then, as suddenly as she had vanished, Cordelia inexplicably reappears with no recollection of her life or her friends. Unbeknownst to the team, things aren’t always what they appear. Even as Cordelia regains her memory, she harbors a secret that will change their lives forever. Finally, Spike returns from his sojourn abroad with his gift to Angel that leaves him mentally unstable. Meanwhile, in Sunnydale, Dawn starts her sophomore year at the new Sunnydale High School with a mysterious new principal that may shake things up. Oh, and there's an apocalypse a'comin' on two fronts.
Feedback - It would be appreciated. My plot bunny has been lagging lately.
Author's Note - This story came to me after watching how Buffy treated Spike in SMASHED - AS YOU WERE (BTVS, Season 6). I wondered how Angel would truly feel, if he really knew how Buffy mistreated Spike. Yes, Spike is the Big Bad, and he and Angel normally don't see eye-to-eye, but they are family nonetheless
Word Count: 10,229 overall
How to Treat Your Lover Soundtrack (Feel free to suggest a song/scene)
( Book 1 )
( Book 2 )
( Book 3 )
( Book 4 )
( Previous Chapters for Book 5 )
**************************
Chapter 68: Step 5 - Acceptance (Part 1)
Los Angeles, Random Alley, Night
A young woman walked alone through the empty alley in the dark, her footsteps echoing back to her from the concrete walls. Suddenly, a vampire leaped out from behind a dumpster and she screamed in fear. From his Batman-like vantage point atop a nearby high-rise building, Angel heard her scream.
“Please, you don’t have to do this,” the girl begged, slowly backing away from the vampire. "I can get you money. You don’t have -” The vampire interrupted her pleas, grabbing her, and she shrieked, “Somebody help! Aah! Aah!”
Angel sprinted across the rooftop, grabbing a guide cable and jumping heedlessly over the edge of the rooftop. Swinging into the alley like Spider-Man, he delivered a kick to the attacking vampire's face, knocking him to the pavement. Performing a mid-air back-flip, Angel released the cable, landing in the alley with his leather coat billowing about him like Batman's cape in a convenient Gotham breeze. He turned around, casually sauntering toward the downed vampire.
“Doesn’t sound like the lady’s interested,” Angel observed conversationally. “Maybe you’re coming off as too needy.”
The vampire got to his feet, launching a side kick into Angel’s ribs, and the terrified young woman looked on as the vampires traded punches. Angel kicked the attacking vampire in the chest, knocking him to the ground, but the vampire was up on his feet in a matter of seconds, charging Angel again. Angel grabbed the vampire’s foot, spinning him around in the air, before slamming him into one of the alley walls. As the vampire collapsed on the pavement again, Angel drew a wooden stake from his belt, twirling it like a gunslinger might twirl a Colt six-shooter, then plunged it dramatically into the vampire’s chest. The vampire obligingly disappeared in a cloud of frustrated dust.
“What ju -” the girl gasped in awe. “I don’t understand.”
“Look, don’t try. Just get yourself home and stay out of dark alleys. You’ll be all right.” Angel’s smile was pasted on, lacking real comfort.
As he turned to walk away, the girl persisted, “But - who are you?”
“No one,” Angel replied tonelessly, without looking back at her.
Angel perked up as cars screeched to a halt in front of him. A group of armed men dressed in black SWAT-type Kevlar gathered at one end of the alley, pointing their weapons in Angel’s direction.
“Angel!” one of the men addressed him with relief in his voice. He clicked on his mic and reported, Area’s secure. Angel is unharmed. Hostile’s contained. Sweep area and confirm.” He pulled off his ski mask. “Angel, sir.”
Several cars pulled up to the end of the alley, all of them directing their headlights at Angel. A second group of people deployed from these vehicles, walking out of the light, toward the vampire.
“Angel!” a lawyer greeted.
“We got report of your movement and came for backup,” the man in Kevlar explained.
“But -” Angel was mystified by the congregation of people in the alley.
“I’m Agent Hauser. I run your operations team,” the man in Kevlar introduced himself.
“Angel!” the lawyer exclaimed, catching up to them. “Hi, Glad we caught you. Really would -” The man turned to a notary behind him, “Get the forms from her.” He turned back to Angel. “Really would prefer it if you didn’t leave a rescue scenario until we had a chance to control the scene. Of course, that is your decision, sir, but -”
“How did you guys -?” Angel asked, confused about why his law firm was assembled in the random, filthy alley.
The lawyer gestured at Angel's suit. “There’s a tracking device in your lapel. And what a time-saver, too, huh?” he sighed in relief, glancing at his wristwatch.
A woman in a three-piece business skirt, sporting a severely tight bun of hair, stepped close to the girl whom Angel had just rescued. She shoved a contract into the girl’s startled face. “This is to confirm that you have been rescued by Angel, CEO and President of Wolfram & Hart.” A pen was stuffed into the girl’s hand, and she blindly signed the lines where she was directed, completely mystified by the whole night. Her roommate was not going to believe a word of this when she got back home. The businesswoman was flipping through the paperwork as soon as she signed, or initialed, each page. “And this is to indemnify Wolfram & Hart of any -”
Angel was still looking around, trying to figure out what the hell was going on, while the lawyer was still rattling his ear off. Suddenly, he was shoved in the girl’s direction.
“If we can just get a couple of pictures of you two, that would be great,” the lawyer said cheerfully. While the bulbs flashed, the lawyer stepped in close, whispering, “Now, uh, the vampire that you terminated, he actually did work for one of your clients.” The lawyer cringed at that thought, but waved it away with a grin. “But, hey! It’s your first week, no one will squawk, right?” He clapped Angel on the shoulder before walking away.
“You run a law firm?” the girl asked him, while still signing away her rights and absolving Wolfram & Hart of any wrongdoing.
“No!” Angel exclaimed innocently, but looked around at the mob of suits in the alley. “I mean - well, sort of. I mean - just lately.”
The businesswoman was still flipping through pages, oblivious to their conversation. “I need you to initial here, concerning your immortal soul.”
Signing the document where indicated, the girl asked Angel, with a tone of disgust, “You did this for publicity?”
“No!” Angel insisted. “I help -” realizing how silly it sounded now, he trailed off, “the helpless.”
Suddenly, the lawyer was back, buzzing in his ear. “Would you like me to bring your car around, sir? Or anything at all? A mocha perhaps? Decaf?”
Angel continued to stare at the array of people in utter disbelief.
**************************
Los Angeles, Wolfram & Hart, Lobby
The mail clerk pushed a basket filled with office mail along a hallway. Atop the pile of envelopes and packages is an envelope addressed to Angel. As the clerk passed the elevator, the arrival bell dinged. Both front and back panels of the elevator opened and Fred stood there, confused, holding a box of her personal belongings. She looked out of the wrong side while Wesley approached the elevators from the lobby side, carrying a coffee mug.
“Fred?” Wesley inquired.
“Wesley!” Fred squealed, just as the elevators were beginning to shut. Finally, someone she recognized. Wesley lurched forward, holding open the doors as Fred stepped into the lobby. “Oh, I’m always getting turned around.” She finally took in the expanse of the lobby with an expression of awe.
“Can I help you with that box?” Wesley offered.
“It’s so big!” Fred exclaimed, still intimidated by the lobby.
Wesley followed her example, examining the lobby as well. “It does take some getting used to.”
“Have you seen my lab?” Fred asked excitedly, glancing at him. “It’s giganamous! And I’m in charge!”
“I’m sure you’ll have no trouble -” he began, but she cut him off.
“I don’t even understand half of what they’re doing. There’s this machine, six feet tall, it makes this noise - whoompa! Whoompa! Phht! Not a clue.”
“Well, I’m still stuck back at: ‘Why on earth are we here?’” Wesley told her.
“You mean because we’re crusaders against evil and now the law firm that represents most of the evil in the world has given us its L.A. branch to run however we want, probably in an attempt to corrupt, divide, or destroy us, and we all said yes in, like, three minutes?”
Fred’s rambling caused Wesley to take a deep breath, and he nodded. “Your run-on sentences have gotten a lot less pointless.”
“Oh, that’s sweet,” Fred smiled. “And a tad condescending.”
“Are you sure I can’t help you -” Wesley gestured toward the box in her arms.
“Ms. Burkle!” an employee from the lab called out, rushing down the stairs.
Wesley and Fred both swiveled around one hundred-eighty degrees to see a young man jogging towards them.
“Hi! Oh, um, Wesley, this is Knox. And I told you to call me Fred,” she added, addressing Knox.
“Yes, and a-any minute now, I’m going to start. Ha! That’s a promise from me to you.” He pointed at the box in her arms. “Can I help with that?”
Oh, thank you,” Fred smiled graciously, brown eyes sparkling.
“So, Knox, how long have you been, uh, evil?” Wesley asked, his tone clipped.
“Oh! Heh! I just mix the potions, you know? And now that I’m taking orders from el jefe here, I’ll probably be saving the world on a weekly basis.
Fred giggled at that, the corners of her eyes crinkling.
“Good for you,” Wesley remarked flatly, eyes narrowing.
“Do you know how to get to your office from here?” Knox addressed Fred.
Why, did somebody eat my breadcrumbs?” she teased.
“Ha! It’s not that hard. I’ll show you.”
“Thanks, Knoxy,” Fred said cheerfully, following him to the stairs. She turned back to Wesley with a cavalier, “See ya!”
“Oh, it was nice to meet you!” Knox called back to Wesley before they ascended the stairs together.
Wesley was watching Fred leave when Gunn yelled, “Think fast!” He threw a basketball toward Wesley, who caught it against his belly with one hand, because the other still held the coffee mug. “Ha! Gotta be faster than that in this place.”
“Cricket’s more my game,” Wesley replied distractedly.
“I’ve made up my mind,” Gunn glanced towards the stairs then back at Wesley. “How’s Fred doing?”
“I’m sure Knoxy will take wonderful care of her.” That caused a confused expression to cross Gunn’s features. “Don’t you think it’s a bit unseemly to add Y’s on the end of people’s names?”
“Does that mean I have to call you ‘Westle’?” Gunn inquired.
Wesley frowned at that. “Made up your mind about what?”
Gunn pulled Wesley towards two offices that were separated by a wall. “Oh! I want the one on the left. This one makes me feel a little bit less completely out of place. I’d say seventeen percent less. Plus-,” he spread his arms out toward the floor to ceiling windows that had necromancy-tempered glass. “A little bit of a view of the mountains. I’ve lived my whole life in L.A., now I find out there are mountains. A brother should be told!”
“It’s very nice,” Wesley agreed, admiring Gunn’s choice of an office.
“So is yours. I mean, if it works for you,” Gunn said, walking to the adjoining office. “We can switch if you don’t like the - you know, the kung pao or whatever.”
“Feng shui,” Wesley corrected.
“Right,” Gunn nodded, then shook his head, totally lost. “What’s that mean again?”
“That people will believe anything. Actually, in this place, feng shui will probably have enormous significance. I’ll align my furniture the wrong way and suddenly catch fire, or turn into pudding,” Wesley mused.
“Are you having second thoughts?” Gunn asked.
“You’re not?” Wesley asked skeptically.
“Man, do I look like I belong here? You got the mystical creds at least. I just hit stuff. I mean, even if this works, and we can turn this place around, use it to do some good, it’s going to be a long, long while before any of us gets anywhere near comfortable here,” Gunn said.
Just then, they turned to see Lorne walk by, comfortably talking on a cell phone accompanied by an assistant who was carrying three binders.
“Oh, sweetie, it’s perfect! Yes, it’s perfect. It’s the project you’ve been waiting for. Yeah, it’s Joanie Loves Chachi meets The Sorrow and the Pity. It’s Joanie Loves Pity. And you’re -” Lorne put the phone to his shoulder and nods at one of the binders the assistant had opened up. “Yes, that carpet’s great because I want our clients to become dizzy and vomit. Keep flipping, huh?” Lorne put the phone back to his ear. “Yes, you’re a shoo-in. The part’s yours. Yeah, I’ve got a whole freezer full of horses’ heads downstairs. No, I’m just kidding. But listen, the producer’s a client, so read it and we’ll talk.” The man with the binders tapped him on the arm and Lorne put his hand over the receiver. “Okay. Better. Horrible and pathetic, but better.”
As Lorne and his assistant passed them, the elevator doors opened to reveal Angel standing inside.
“You lost, boss?” Gunn teased as Angel stumbled out of the elevator.
Angel approached Gunn and Wesley. “On a lot of levels.” He gestured widely with his hands. “Did you hear what happened to me last night?” He started across the lobby, flanked by Gunn and Wesley.
“Did you get lucky?” Gunn guessed.
As if Gunn hadn’t spoken, Angel continued, “They put a tracer on me. I was working the town, helping the helpless, which is a thing I like to do. All of a sudden, the entire firm shows up in the alley.”
“We’ll make sure it doesn’t happen again,” Wesley assured him.
Buttoning his jacket, Angel made a vow, “We’re turning this place inside out. If they want to see how I handle running Wolfram & Hart, they’re going to find out. Everything must go -”
**************************
Los Angeles, Wolfram & Hart, Angel’s Office
Angel casually opened the double doors leading into his office and came to an abrupt halt, silenced by what he saw on his huge oak desk. “Starting with that.”
A young woman wearing a red business skirt-suit perched too comfortably on the edge of Angel’s desk, her long legs crossed, their shapeliness accentuated by an accent light shining down on her from overhead.
“Hi. It’s really neat to see you guys,” she greeted them with an overabundance of cheer.
Angel unbuttoned his jacket, approaching her with clear mistrust. “I’m pretty sure this is supposed to be my office.”
“It’ll never happen again,” she replied, with obviously false contrition. “I just wanted to, you know, see your face.”
“You like to make an entrance,” Angel observed dryly.
“Do you always open both doors when you enter a room?” she asked. When Angel looked away from her she continued, “I don’t need to make an entrance. I need to make an impression. I’m going to be your liaison to the firm. I’ll help you find your way. My name is Eve. And just to get the whole irony thing out of the way -” she picked up a shiny red apple from the desk, throwing it at Angel.
He easily caught the apple with one hand, glancing at it. “Who do you answer to?”
“The Senior Partners, and if you’re thinking, which, by the way, you are, that you can use me to get to them, let go of the dream. I answer to them. I don’t lunch with them.”
“Still - a pretty powerful position for a young woman,” Wesley observed.
“How, exactly, can you be sure I’m either of those things?” Eve asked coyly. She slipped off the desk, beginning to pace the room. “Okay, let me tell you how this works.”
“I thought I was in charge,” Angel interrupted.
Eve nodded. “Of the Los Angeles offices of a multi-dimensional corporation. Now, I’m stressing that last word because that’s what we are. We’re a business, and we have a bottom line. Now, you could take your new client lists and start hacking away from the top down. A lot of our clients are demons, and - almost all of them are evil.”
“Almost?” Angel repeated, raising an eyebrow.
“Things are always more complicated than they seem, champ,” Eve shook her head. “You can shut this place down, but - then - well, you wouldn’t have it anymore. If the place closes down, the connections dry up. Evil will go next door. This is the catch - I’m explaining the catch so you don’t have to stand around wondering what it is. See, in order to keep this business running, you have to keep this business running. And that means keeping your clients - most of them, anyway - happy.”
“It means letting them get away with stuff,” Gunn remarked, clearly disliking that idea.
Eve chuckled. “Sweetie, they were getting away with it while you were all sitting around your hotel waiting for the phone to jangle. Well, you’re on the ins now, and you can stop the worst of it.” She shrugged. “Maybe find some new solutions to some old problems.” Then she slipped into annoyingly chipper high gear. “Come on! Isn't anybody excited? This is a crazy time for fun. The most powerful evil around has given a pivotal position over to its sworn enemies. You’re not scared, are you?”
Angel glared at Eve, taking an expressive bite of the apple, pleased by the crunch it made.
“The client files are all in there,” Eve pointed toward the adjoining conference room. “You might want to start going through them.”
***************************
Los Angeles, Wolfram & Hart Conference Room, Midnight
Angel, Lorne, Fred, Wesley and Gunn were assembled around a conference table laden with stacks of file folders, and they were clearly exhausted.
“This is unbelievable,” Angel announced, glancing over the table for the umpteenth time. It didn’t look like they'd made the slightest dent in the stacks.
“I think I lost my appetite. Which is a first,” Fred commented.
“Hmm, this is interesting,” Lorne said to himself, reading the file currently in front of him. “Apparently Joe Kennedy tried to get out of his deal with the firm.”
“That explains a lot,” Angel observed.
“Yeah, but George Senior - he read the fine print. There’s no one these guys don’t have a piece of,” Lorne declared.
Angel stood up, stretching to rid his tired muscles of innumerable kinks he didn't think he could still be afflicted with. “How are we even supposed to start making things right?” He tossed his file on the table, disheartened.
“Here’s a winner,” Gunn interjected. “Corbin Fries. On trial for smuggling Asian girls in for cheap labor and prostitution. Been charged with drugs, gun running, nothing stuck.”
“And that’s one of our human clients,” Wesley drawled. “Can’t imagine what the demon ones are like.”
“Looks like the trial’s not going too well this time,” Gunn read further.
“Hm, first good news I’ve heard all day,” Angel commented.
Gunn closed the file, looking at the table. “I can’t even remember which pile is which.”
Angel shrugged nonchalantly. “I’ll get my secretary to go through it in the morning.” Then he thought about his statement. “Do I have a secretary?”
“I imagine they’ll find you someone who can stomach the idea of working for the side of the righteous,” Wesley quipped.
“My impression is a lot of these guys are just opportunistic. They’ll go with the flow,” Gunn postulated.
“You do know we’re going to have to check the whole staff, make sure we don’t have any die-hard evildoers plotting against us,” Fred pointed out.
Wesley sat back in his chair with a groan. “And here I was, worrying about the clients.”
“We’re doing the right thing - right?” Angel asked for affirmation from the others.
“Well, uh -.” Lorne sat forward then rose. “We’re doing it tomorrow, exalted one. My horns are falling asleep.”
“Yeah,” Angel agreed. “You guys get some rest.”
“What about you?” Fred asked.
“I’ll work a while yet. Go on,” Angel told her, grabbing another folder and sitting back in his chair.
**************************
Los Angeles, Wolfram &; Hart, Gunn’s Office, Night
Gunn walked back to his office, intending to grab his jacket before heading home. Someone spoke to him from a dark corner.
“It was a lot simpler fighting vamps on the street, wasn’t it? Tricked-out pickup, loyal gang, just you and the pointy wood against the living dead,” Eve remarked.
Gunn watched her walk into the light from the hallway. “Is this going to be a thing with you: jumping out at people, or do you just not have an office of your own?”
“I’m just wondering if you’re ready for the next step,” Eve said.
“Or if maybe I’d like to go back to living on the street, eating garbage and watching my buddies get picked off one by one?” Gunn nodded sarcastically. “Yeah, that was the life.”
Eve came closer. “So you’re not backing out?”
“You don’t know me, or you wouldn’t ask that question.”
“I can see why the Senior Partners chose you.” She handed him a business card. “Have fun.” She walked out of the room, but not before tossing over her shoulder, “You’ll feel like new man.”
Gunn read the card as he strolled over to his doorway then leaned there.
Wesley was leaned against his own doorway, watching Eve sashay out of the building. “What did she mean?”
Gunn held the card between his index and middle fingers. “Tailor. Guess I’m not dressed for success.” He shrugged.
**************************
Los Angeles, Wolfram & Hart, the next morning
Angel sifted through the papers on his desk, picking up the envelope that was mailed to him, but tossing it aside without opening it. Instead, he pressed a button on his phone.
“Um, can I get a cup of coffee or something?” he spoke to the phone.
“You have reached ritual sacrifice. For goats, press one, or say ‘goats’,” the automated voice said.
Angel hastily pressed the button to end the call, trying a different button. “Hello?”
“This is Angel’s office. How can I help you?” a woman’s screechy voice said in greeting.
“This is AngelNo, this is his new assistant,” she said perkily.
“No, this is Angel,” he insisted.
“Are you sure?” she asked suspiciously.
Angel scoffed and spoke more to himself than to her, “Less and less. Look, can I get a cup of coffee? Or if there’s blood -”
“Oh!” the woman exclaimed, finally catching on. “Right away.”
Angel pressed a button to end the call, but he was switched to the previous call. “To sacrifice loved ones, or a pet, press the pound -”
Angel hastily pressed the button to hang up, holding it down longer this time, until he heard the dial tone. He stared at the phone, disgusted for a moment, then went back to his papers. The phone rang and he answered it via speaker phone.
“Hello?” Angel said uncertainly, in case it was the demonic tele-tree again.
“It’s Wesley. Can I stop in? We might be into a situation?” Wesley said.
Angel’s assistant brought him a mug, placing it on his desk in front of him. “Uh, sure. Come on by.” He sipped from the mug and then looked up as his secretary. “Harmony?”
Harmony smiled, greeting him cheerily, “Hey, boss.”
“You’re my secretary?” Angel asked in disbelief.
Harmony sighed indignantly. “Hello! Assistant.”
“Explain why I shouldn’t kill you,” Angel asked with a hard tone.
“Secretary’s fine,” Harmony quickly corrected.
Angel put down his mug, rising and slowly stalking her around his desk. “No, it’s not fine. Where is it fine? You’ve been working here?”
“Yeah-huh,” Harmony gulped, backing away from him.
“Why?” he asked.
Harmony scoffed. “Well, duh! I’m a single, undead gal trying to make it in the big city. I have to start somewhere. And they’re evil here, they don’t judge. They’ve also got the necro-tempered glass.” She danced in front of the window. “No burning up. And a great medical plan, and who needs dental more than us?”
“This is surreal,” Angel groaned, massaging his forehead.
“Now, before you go threatening to fire me -” Harmony began.
“I threatened to kill you,” Angel corrected.
Harmony backed up slowly at his glare. “Don’t let’s quibble. Before anything, just think - I’m strong, I’m quick, I’m incredibly sycophantic - if that means what that guy said - and I type like a superhero - if there was a superhero whose power was typing. And, hey, we keep the same hours. Creatures of the night -” she held her fist up in a show of solidarity. “Unite!” She shrugged, handing him the mug again. “How do you like your blood?”
“Tell me that’s not -” Angel cringed at the thought of it being human blood and the idea that the law firm has a tele-tree option to sacrifice loved ones and pets.
“It’s pig’s blood,” Harmony assured him. “I’m totally off the human blood. That’s not even a thing.”
Angel smelled the liquid. “It tastes -”
“Pretty good, right?” Harmony finished for him. “The extra ingredient is otter.”
Wesley chose that moment to knock once, open the door, and let himself in. “Angel, it’s one of our cases. It’s becoming problematic.” He was momentarily brought up short at the sight of Harmony, before giving her a nod in greeting. “Harmony.”
“Hey, Wes.”
“You knew she was -” Angel sighed, shaking his head.
Harmony smiled at Wesley. “He’s the one that picked me out of the steno pool.”
“But why - you, uh,” Angel sighed again.
“Well, I thought a familiar face would be just the thing in a place like this,” Wesley defended his choice of assistants.
Angel looked between Wesley and Harmony. “You turned evil a lot faster than I thought you would.”
“Nonsense,” Wesley countered.
“We’re going to get along great, boss,” Harmony assured Angel. “The whole gang. I mean, Cordy is going to lose it when she finds out -” She noticed that Wesley and Angel were frowning and refusing to look at each other. “I mean - you are going to tell her you’re okay with this, right? I mean, I know she was mad at me for trying to kill you all, but she wouldn’t - I mean -”
“I thought she knew,” Wesley said apologetically.
“Cordy’s sick. She’s in a coma,” Angel told her.
Harmony covered her mouth in shock. “Oh, God. I-I didn’t - What happened? Is she going to be okay?”
“We don’t know,” Angel replied. It was the only sure thing he knew right now.
Harmony sniffled, close to tears. “Cordy was my best friend, like - my whole life. She’s my role model. How can she -” She sighed sadly then suddenly became chipper again. “So, anyway, I really think you should not fire me, and Wes does too.”
To change the topic, Wesley said, “Harmony, would you ask the men in my office to join us, please?”
“Righty-oh,” Harmony chirped, nodding and leaving the room.
“If there’s a way to help Cordelia, we will find it,” Wesley assured Angel.
Angel nodded, moving on to more pressing matters. “What’s the case?”
Wesley handed a folder over to him. “Corbin Fries. The lowest piece of pond scum I’ve met in, oh, hours. He’s about to get twenty years for kidnapping, pimping -”
“I saw the file,” Angel interrupted, handing the folder back to Wesley.
“Yeah, well, personally, I think he deserves to be eaten by weasels, but he’s hinting we’d better help him,” Wesley filled in the missing pieces. “Threatening actually.”
The door opened, and Harmony escorted a couple of men into the office.
“Mr. Fries,” Angel greeted.
“Mr. Fries, this is Angel,” Harmony introduced.
“I’ve been bringing him up to speed on your case,” Wesley informed his client as he gestured for them all to sit on the couch at the other side of the office.
“Terrific,” Corbin Fries said flatly.
A lawyer introduced himself. “Desmond Keel.”
“He’s one of ours,” Wesley added for Angel's benefit.
“Nice to meet you,” Angel replied, with blatant insincerity.
“I’ve heard, uh, things,” Desmond stammered.
“Would anybody like coffee?” Harmony cordially inquired.
“Oh yeah,” Corbin Fries threw his hands in the air as he sat down. “Let’s all chit-chat and have tea and crumpets because I got so much time. Here’s the skinny: Tomorrow the D.A. puts my tit in a wringer for good and all, and that - does not stand with me. Butt-munch here, he got his law degree at dog training school.” That caused Harmony to giggle, but she sobered at a sharp look from Angel. Corbin Fries continued, “And the prosecution has everything they’ve ever dreamed of.”
“Because you’re guilty,” Angel blandly stated the obvious.
“Of course I’m guilty. What the hell are you changing the subject for?” Corbin asked incredulously. “The point is: when Holland Manners was running things, this would’ve never got to trial. Now, I bring a lot of money into this firm, more than most, and I don’t do that so that I can be handed over to the fucking law.” He jabbed a finger at Angel. “You got to get me off.”
Angel gave him a considering look. “It’s strange, my lack of incentive.”
“Do you think I give a rat’s ass about your new regime here?” Corbin Fries spat. At Angel’s raised eyebrow, he said, “Yeah, I know who you are, and I care to the sum of zero. You’re my lawyers. And if you don’t do every last thing to keep me out of jail, you will regret it.”
His lawyer, Desmond Keel took over from there, sounding more pragmatic. “We can’t dance around this one. We’re not in a position to have anyone killed.” Angel and Wesley glanced at him, and he rushed to assure them, “Not that we would. And the jury’s, uh, tamper-proof. Literally, I think one of the D.A.’s shamans have conjured a mystical shield around them.”
“So this one has to be won on the merits of the case,” Wesley concluded.
“Now, we have top men on this -” Desmond Keel started to say.
“Who are doing jack!” Corbin Fries cut him off. “I am not going to be made an example of. Either you get me off tomorrow -”
“I think you should calm down,” Angel commanded.
Corbin Fries jumped to his feet, getting into Angel’s face. “To hell with calm down. Either you get me off, or I drop the bomb!”
That got Wesley’s attention. “Bomb?”
“Let me put it this way; if they bring in a conviction, bye-bye California,” Corbin Fries mimicked a goodbye wave. “I say the magic word, the only people left standing are going to be the ones that already dead.”
Harmony heaved a sigh. “Well, that’s a relief.” Wesley and Angel looked at her and she stuttered, “I mean -” she pretended anger, pointing at the criminal. “Hey!”
**************************
Los Angeles, Wolfram & Hart, Conference Room
Lorne opened a notebook, addressing a room full of employees. “Okay, well, we all know why we’re here. So, why don’t we get started?”
He looked at the first name on the list. The rows next to the names were titled: OKAY, ON THE BUBBLE, EVIL, TO BE FIRED, and YIKES!
“Uh - Cindy,” Lorne double-checked the name. “Rabinowitz?”
Cindy stepped up, beginning to sing off-key, “There once was a woman who loved a man / He was the one that she took poison for / They say that nobody ever loved as much as she / But me, I love you more.”
**************************
Los Angeles, Wolfram & Hart, Fred’s Office
Knox was helping Fred move into her office. She hung a poster of the Dixie Chicks on her wall while Knox played with her toy duck.
“So - he can read minds?” Knox asked with casual curiosity.
“While you’re singing, he can sort of feel out your aura, your future. It should help us weed out the, you know, most evilest, which I’m sure you’re not,” Fred smiled supportively.
“Hey, I’ll go up there right now, warble away,” Knox offered. “I want you feeling one-hundred percent secure, running this lab.”
“Yeah, that’ll never happen in this lifetime,” Fred observed, tacking one corner of the poster to the wall. “Uh, evil aside, I’m not sure that I’m much of the running-things type. I’m more the running-away-from-things type.” She tacked the other corner of the poster to the wall.
The telephone buzzed, Fred answering it as Knox said, “Why do I have trouble believing that?”
“Maybe you’re not very bright,” Fred teased, then greeted the caller, “Hi, this is Fred. I mean, Practical Science Department, this is the Head - Fred.” She sighed in embarrassment. “How may I help you?”
Continued Here