FIC: Reflections 9: Caritas 2/5
Author: Trepkos
Pairing: Spike/Riley
Rating: NC17 overall
Standard disclaimer: no profit made, no copyright infringement intended.
Feedback: It’s what I live for
Previous parts:
Reflections 1: Down the Rabbit-hole 1/4 2/4 3/4 4/4
Reflections 2: Through the Looking Glass 1/5 2/5 3/5 4/5 5/5
Reflections 3: Sentence First! Verdict afterwards! 1/4 2/4 3/4 4/4
Reflections 4: Where do we go from here? 1/4 2/4 3/4 4/4
Reflections 5: On the Road to Los Angeles 1/4 2/4 3/4 4/4
Reflections 6: The Players Assemble 1/4 2/4 3/4 4/4
Reflections 7: Reunion 1/4 2/4 3/4 4/4
Reflections 8: Things Fall Apart 1/4 2/4 3/4 4/4
Reflections 9: Caritas 1/5
Reflections 9: Caritas: 2/5
Wesley had been glad of Angel’s bulk separating him from Darla on the way over in the taxi; but now they were here, he was pleasantly surprised to find that he was able to relax among the group of rather anxious demons that crowded the bar. The place was agog, and Lorne was surrounded by clients of many species, all vying for his attention.
His services seemed much in demand tonight.
Though there was fear in the air, there was also a general sense of relief, to which Wesley was by no means immune. Though he wasn’t sure why, it felt as if the weight of the world had been lifted, not just from his shoulders, but Angel’s too.
Angel went to the bar and ordered: absinthe for Darla and scotches for himself and Wesley. Wesley downed his gratefully.
Then Lorne spotted them, called out - “Hey, Angelcakes!” - and began making his way towards them.
For once, Angel didn’t seem too bothered about being so addressed, in public; in fact, he seemed positively convivial, calling out, “Lorne! Good to see you!”
Even Lorne was taken aback. “It is?” He flapped his hands. “Of course it is! And you’re just the guy I’ve been waiting for.” Off Angel’s now slightly worried look he added, “Not that silly! Not that I wouldn’t, but … hmmm … Never mind. It’s just that I’ve had this itch in my horns all evening, and the feeling that only you can scratch it!”
“I’ve been having a problem scratching an itch of my own,” Angel said frowning.
Lorne patted him on the back. “Well, ‘problem’ is my middle name! Why didn’t you come to me earlier?”
Caught out, Angel looked at his shoes. “I … didn’t think of it.”
Wesley coughed behind his hand. Angel’s confidence in Lorne’s advice was in the region of non-existent.
“I’m hurt!” Lorne admonished Angel. “So I guess that means you owe me. What are you gonna sing for me, big guy?”
“Actually, I’m not. We’re just here for a quiet drink.”
Lorne looked at him askance.
Angel shrugged. “Yeah, I know - if I want a quiet drink why go to a demon karaoke bar?”
“You took ‘em right out of my mouth, meatloaf!”
“For the ambience?” Wesley suggested diplomatically.
Angel nodded eagerly. “Exactly! But I don’t need a reading Lorne - I already know my path.” Angel downed his whiskey. “Well, I know what it isn’t - and right now? That’s enough.”
“Is that so?” Lorne said, his interest piqued as well as his professional pride. “Someone trying to put me out of business?”
“No, but it looks like you don’t have too much to worry about on that score.” Angel indicated the crowd that had trailed behind Lorne from the other side of the room.
“You got a point - but I have a distinct feeling that you guys are right in the eye of this little tsunami in a cocktail glass.”
While Wesley congratulated himself for his restraint in not pointing out that tsunamis didn’t have eyes, Lorne switched his attention to Darla.
“How about you, sugar? Gonna take a turn at the mike?”
She flicked a wisp of hair from in front of her eyes. “Yes, I’ll sing for you. Why not?”
“Fabulous!” Lorne crowed. He hustled Darla towards the stage and busied himself finding the track she wanted.
Left alone at the bar with Angel, Wesley glanced nervously at his companion and cleared his throat.
“Angel, I didn’t mean to interrupt your … I mean, I know I’ve expressed disapproval of your attempts to contact Darla in the past, but I hope you know that I didn’t show up at that precise moment with the intention of preventing you and Darla from … ‘scratching an itch’, as it were: if that was your path. I only blundered in because I thought you might be about to kill Spike -”
“Kill Spike?” Angel shot him an injured look - as though the thought would never enter his head. “Why would I do that? I only just rescued him.”
“I had another of those … episodes. I saw these words: ‘The Father Will Kill the Son’ - and you said earlier on that you’d thought of Spike as -”
“My son: yes, I remember. I saw it too, Wes: the same phrase. But that was nothing to do with Spike.” Angel scrutinised the contents of his glass. “Take my word for it.”
“Oh … May one ask -”
“No,” Angel interrupted him. “Sorry, but I’d prefer to keep it to myself. You know the choice you mentioned - the important one? I think I just made it, and I’m hoping I made it right: but it was a tough call - really tough. I can’t talk about it.” Carefully, he put his glass down on the bar. “It’s done.”
“I hope I didn’t -”
“No -” Angel said abruptly: “- it wasn’t anything to do with you Wesley. It was my decision, my responsibility alone.”
To Wesley’s mind, though this was clearly a significant burden, Angel looked more serene than he had ever seen him before.
Lorne tapped the microphone. “Ladies and Gentle-things - well, you’d better be gentle in this bar! - I’d like to present a first-time songbird: Darla.”
There was loud applause, as well as hoots, grunts and wolf-whistles, but this soon died down as - seated in a pool of light - Darla began to sing.
“Mad about the boy
I know it's stupid to be mad about the boy
I'm so ashamed of it but must admit the sleepless nights I've had
About the boy …”
The song poured out like cream, pure and seductive, and it occurred to Wesley that Angel should to be tied to the mast before being allowed to hear such a voice. But then, perhaps those rocks and shoals were already in his wake.
Wesley’s heart clenched as he saw that Darla’s eyes were bright with unshed tears. He couldn’t help marvelling that a 400 year-old vampire could still summon such depth of emotion. But then, he didn’t seem to be losing his ability to be hurt as he grew older, so why should Darla? Maybe the passing years just stripped away your defences rather than making them stronger.
He glanced at Angel and saw that his eyes, too, were shining suspiciously. Wesley had the feeling that this song was affecting them for completely different reasons, but uniting them - perhaps for the last time - in grief.
“Lord knows I'm not a fool girl
I really shouldn't care
Lord knows I'm not a school girl
In the fury of her first affair …”
~~
Lorne, too, was transfixed, but the expression of rapture on his face quickly dissipated when Lindsey MacDonald pushed his way between the tables and chairs - drawing various indescribable noises of protest from those in his path - and strode up to him.
Stopping a few inches from Lorne’s face, Lindsey demanded. “Why? Was I so bad? Jeez! I thought you liked my singing!”
“Easy cowboy,” Lorne said, peering over the top of Lindsey’s head. “Who set your horse on fire?”
“You did!”
“Now why in all that’s whacky would I do a thing like that?” Lorne said vaguely, still trying to concentrate on Darla.
“You … of all people -” Lindsey pointed an accusatory finger at Lorne. “You shot me!”
That got Lorne’s attention - for all of five seconds. “Shot you?”
Lindsey might just as well have accused him of getting out of bed before noon.
“What with - my pinky?” Lorne waved the digit dismissively. “I don’t even own a gun, cherry pie, they make me squeamish.” He turned pointedly back towards the stage and Lindsey followed his gaze.
“Darla?” Lindsey said softly.
But Darla didn’t even notice Lindsey was there, so intent was she on Angel.
“Fuck!” Lindsey muttered.
“Hey!” Lorne smacked his hand. “You got some objection to this rather lovely songbird?”
“Not at all; it’s who she’s singin’ to that I can’t stomach,” Lindsey said bluntly.
Keen to smooth things over, Lorne pulled on Lindsey’s sleeve. “Come on then, tell me more about my newly acquired competence with firearms.”
Lindsey turned back to him, still seething. “I saw it - clearly as I see you now. I’d just killed a bunch of demons - for him!” He swivelled and pointed at Angel. “God knows why! And you: you were supposed to be helping me, but you turned on me and shot me.”
“And then you woke up in bed?” Lorne suggested urbanely. “Let me tell you kiddo, there’s these things called dreams -”
“It wasn’t a dream. I was wide awake. It … must have been a premonition. No! wait! I had a real living hand when you …” He shook his head, frowning. “What’s goin’ on here Lorne?”
“Can’t help you unless you sing,” Lorne said smoothly.
“How can I?” Lindsey said, making a dismissive gesture towards Angel with his prosthetic hand. “I’m finished, thanks to that fucker.”
“Last I looked, your voice comes out here.” Lorne pointed to Lindsey’s mouth. “No need to sulk just because you can’t play your instrument. You still have a fine set of vocal chords - use them. I don’t have your music on the sound machine, but some of the finest performers weren’t too proud to sing someone else’s song now and then. How about a bit of Springsteen? Johnny Cash? Tom Petty?”
Lindsey glanced at Darla, who was now clearly aware of his presence but pretending otherwise.
“I don’t feel much like singing right now.”
“Then maybe you should shut up.” Lorne suggested acidly. “I’ll stand you a shot of bourbon, to make up for shooting you, and you’ll let me listen to this, how’s that sound?”
Lindsey just turned his back to the stage, his jaw tight.
“So if I could employ
A little magic that will finally destroy
This dream that pains me and enchains me
But I can't because I'm mad...
I'm mad about the boy.”
The song ended, Darla dipped her head to acknowledge the applause, and Lorne reached up to take her hand as she stepped down.
“My, my!” Lorne enthused. “A true chanteuse! What are you tryin’ to do to me? There’s only so much raw emotion this anagogic demon can take.”
“You asked for it,” she replied smoothly.
Lorne moved to block her path. “That’s not to say I’m not going to cough up a reading for you. It might be a while, but -”
She wafted a hand dismissively as she pushed past him. “I don’t want a reading - life’s enough of a bore, without having my path sign-posted.”
“Well, well. How refreshing!” Lorne said to her retreating back. He shrugged.
As Darla began to make her way to the exit - ignoring Lindsey as completely as he was now ignoring her - she shot a longing glance at Angel. Angel looked back, and nodded once.
Then Lindsey caved and went after her. He caught up with her and put a hand on her arm, but she brushed him off. He tried once more. She turned her game-face on him - just for a second, but it was enough. She slipped out of his grasp, and out of the door.
Defeated, Lindsey went back to the bar, and set about completing the task of self-obliteration.
~~
Lilah had been having the most disturbing evening. When she’d left Darla, and gone back to her car to keep watch, she must have fallen asleep. That was the only explanation she could come up with for the illusion that she’d been having sex with Angel’s sidekick - what was his name? Winston? Wiley? No - Wesley: that was it.
And that was just wrong.
He’d been much more proficient - not to mention more domineering - than she’d imagined he would be. Not that she’d imagined him at all in a sexual capacity.
And when did Wesley stop shaving?
She needed a drink; and more than that, she was gripped with a sudden need to know ... would her gamble pay off? Had the apocalypse been salvaged?
There was no way she was going in-house - she’d had enough of those spooky seers, and their double talk.
There was only one thing for it.
~~
As Lilah walked into the bar, the first person - or thing - she recognised was Angel.
He smiled at her.
After the evening she’d had, the last thing she wanted - or expected - was to see Angel, smiling at her. She went straight to the bar and checked the mirror, and wasn’t pleased to find herself looking somewhat - for her - disarranged. She pulled her shirt collar straight and fixed her lipstick.
When she spotted Wesley reflected in the mirror, sitting further down the bar, she blushed from her stiletto heels to her roots. What surprised her was that the instant their eyes happened to meet, she saw Wesley echo her blush. He looked quickly away, appearing almost guilty.
For a brief instant, she wondered whether he might in some way be responsible for her strange dream … But no. He didn’t look like someone who dabbled in magic or had any mental powers.
Annoyingly, he refused to look in her direction again, depriving her of the opportunity to blank him, so she ordered a drink. With a glass in her hand she felt more able to cope.
“Pen!” she demanded of Ramon as he began to serve the demon next to her.
A pair of indigo eyes looked at her in disapproval, from an otherwise strangely-featureless pale grey face. “You could say ‘please’ you know. Good manners cost nothing, young lady.”
Lilah snorted. “Please!” she said sarcastically to Ramon.
Great: she was reduced to accepting advice on etiquette from a nose-deprived monster that subsisted on old mattresses. Finally in possession of a writing implement, she scribbled a few words on a coaster and stalked over to where Lorne was sitting.
“Ah: the lovely Lilah Morgan.” He looked her over with an appraising eye. “What’s ruffled your feathers this evening, chicken?”
“Thanks for noticing,” she said cuttingly, as she thrust the note into his hand. “I take it you can accommodate me?”
“Sure I can - it’s a classic - but -”
“Cut the crap green-genes and play the music!”
He cued up her track. “I never argue with a lady,” he said; then he turned and made a face at Ramon.
“Hey!” she said. “I saw that!”
~~
“You keep playin' where you shouldn't be playin’.
And you keep thinkin' that you´ll never get burned.
Ha! I just found me a brand new box of matches, yeah;
And what he know you ain't had time to learn.”
Okay, so her rendition of her chosen song might be slightly off-key: at least it was enthusiastic. Lilah managed to keep her attention focussed on Angel for the whole time, and all the while, Angel just carried on smiling amiably at her. It was enough to give a girl the willies. By the time she got near the end, she had a feeling that she’d need a very stiff drink indeed.
“These boots are made for walking, and that's just what they'll do
One of these days these boots are gonna walk all over you.
Are you ready boots? Start walkin'!”
Lilah only stumbled once as she left the stage, and congratulated herself on that fact as she returned to her barstool. She drummed her fingers on the bar next to Lorne.
“Well?” she demanded.
Even Lilah couldn’t help noticing that his earlier attitude of benign indifference had been superseded by one of thinly disguised distaste, bordering on suspicion.
“What?” she said, disturbed by his demeanour.
“Easy there: I’ll tell, don’t fret; but I need some time. Things have been on the strange side this evening; I have to see the whole picture before I can be sure.”
“So I’m going to have to hang around with these losers all evening to get my reading?” Lilah tossed back her drink. “Things just keep getting better!”
“No need to be such a sourpuss,” Lorne snapped. “Believe me, I wouldn’t keep you, but I’ve got a feeling that tonight’s readings are among the few I can’t afford to get wrong.”
“What, you sometimes get things wrong?”
For all her cynicism, Lilah was mildly shocked.
“I sometimes do, but when you mess up, you mess up good!” Lorne said slyly.
“What? What are you saying?” She reached out to grab him, but Lorne slid off his stool and beat a hasty retreat; he was soon lost in the crowd.
“Messed things up have I?” Lilah muttered under her breath as she slammed her glass down and ordered another with a glance and a quirk of her eyebrow. “I’m only trying to do my job!”
“And I’m sure you were doing it to the very best of your abilities, my dear.”
She whipped her head round to check. Yes, it was Holland Manners who had snuck up behind her. It would be nice if people would stop doing that. She perused his unlikely attire - jeans, loafers, and a sweater adorned with a repeating pattern of reindeer and snowmen. He looked like someone’s kindly gay uncle.
“So, you came for a reading?” Lilah asked him.
“No, I prefer to rely on the professionals,” he said. “I’m here for pleasure - not even bothering to network. I just felt drawn to this place tonight. Odd isn’t it?”
“You’re not wrong.” Lilah looked him up and down once more, with a slight frown. “There’s a lot of it going around.”
She waited for him to order, but Holland just stood there, looking at the glass Ramon had put in front of her, so - reluctantly - she asked, “Can I get you a drink?” She rummaged in her clutch-purse. “Red wine isn’t it?”
Holland looked suddenly pale. “I seem to have gone off wine completely - don’t know why … especially red wine. No, I’ll have a gin and tonic, thanks. But there’s no hurry - I’m going to exercise the old vocal chords first!” He signalled to Lorne that he was ready. “Haven’t done this in a while…”
Lilah’s jaw dropped as she saw her boss get up on stage. Apparently he’d already chosen his song, because almost at once, the music began to play.
~~
TBC
Pairing: Spike/Riley
Rating: NC17 overall
Standard disclaimer: no profit made, no copyright infringement intended.
Feedback: It’s what I live for
Previous parts:
Reflections 1: Down the Rabbit-hole 1/4 2/4 3/4 4/4
Reflections 2: Through the Looking Glass 1/5 2/5 3/5 4/5 5/5
Reflections 3: Sentence First! Verdict afterwards! 1/4 2/4 3/4 4/4
Reflections 4: Where do we go from here? 1/4 2/4 3/4 4/4
Reflections 5: On the Road to Los Angeles 1/4 2/4 3/4 4/4
Reflections 6: The Players Assemble 1/4 2/4 3/4 4/4
Reflections 7: Reunion 1/4 2/4 3/4 4/4
Reflections 8: Things Fall Apart 1/4 2/4 3/4 4/4
Reflections 9: Caritas 1/5
Reflections 9: Caritas: 2/5
Wesley had been glad of Angel’s bulk separating him from Darla on the way over in the taxi; but now they were here, he was pleasantly surprised to find that he was able to relax among the group of rather anxious demons that crowded the bar. The place was agog, and Lorne was surrounded by clients of many species, all vying for his attention.
His services seemed much in demand tonight.
Though there was fear in the air, there was also a general sense of relief, to which Wesley was by no means immune. Though he wasn’t sure why, it felt as if the weight of the world had been lifted, not just from his shoulders, but Angel’s too.
Angel went to the bar and ordered: absinthe for Darla and scotches for himself and Wesley. Wesley downed his gratefully.
Then Lorne spotted them, called out - “Hey, Angelcakes!” - and began making his way towards them.
For once, Angel didn’t seem too bothered about being so addressed, in public; in fact, he seemed positively convivial, calling out, “Lorne! Good to see you!”
Even Lorne was taken aback. “It is?” He flapped his hands. “Of course it is! And you’re just the guy I’ve been waiting for.” Off Angel’s now slightly worried look he added, “Not that silly! Not that I wouldn’t, but … hmmm … Never mind. It’s just that I’ve had this itch in my horns all evening, and the feeling that only you can scratch it!”
“I’ve been having a problem scratching an itch of my own,” Angel said frowning.
Lorne patted him on the back. “Well, ‘problem’ is my middle name! Why didn’t you come to me earlier?”
Caught out, Angel looked at his shoes. “I … didn’t think of it.”
Wesley coughed behind his hand. Angel’s confidence in Lorne’s advice was in the region of non-existent.
“I’m hurt!” Lorne admonished Angel. “So I guess that means you owe me. What are you gonna sing for me, big guy?”
“Actually, I’m not. We’re just here for a quiet drink.”
Lorne looked at him askance.
Angel shrugged. “Yeah, I know - if I want a quiet drink why go to a demon karaoke bar?”
“You took ‘em right out of my mouth, meatloaf!”
“For the ambience?” Wesley suggested diplomatically.
Angel nodded eagerly. “Exactly! But I don’t need a reading Lorne - I already know my path.” Angel downed his whiskey. “Well, I know what it isn’t - and right now? That’s enough.”
“Is that so?” Lorne said, his interest piqued as well as his professional pride. “Someone trying to put me out of business?”
“No, but it looks like you don’t have too much to worry about on that score.” Angel indicated the crowd that had trailed behind Lorne from the other side of the room.
“You got a point - but I have a distinct feeling that you guys are right in the eye of this little tsunami in a cocktail glass.”
While Wesley congratulated himself for his restraint in not pointing out that tsunamis didn’t have eyes, Lorne switched his attention to Darla.
“How about you, sugar? Gonna take a turn at the mike?”
She flicked a wisp of hair from in front of her eyes. “Yes, I’ll sing for you. Why not?”
“Fabulous!” Lorne crowed. He hustled Darla towards the stage and busied himself finding the track she wanted.
Left alone at the bar with Angel, Wesley glanced nervously at his companion and cleared his throat.
“Angel, I didn’t mean to interrupt your … I mean, I know I’ve expressed disapproval of your attempts to contact Darla in the past, but I hope you know that I didn’t show up at that precise moment with the intention of preventing you and Darla from … ‘scratching an itch’, as it were: if that was your path. I only blundered in because I thought you might be about to kill Spike -”
“Kill Spike?” Angel shot him an injured look - as though the thought would never enter his head. “Why would I do that? I only just rescued him.”
“I had another of those … episodes. I saw these words: ‘The Father Will Kill the Son’ - and you said earlier on that you’d thought of Spike as -”
“My son: yes, I remember. I saw it too, Wes: the same phrase. But that was nothing to do with Spike.” Angel scrutinised the contents of his glass. “Take my word for it.”
“Oh … May one ask -”
“No,” Angel interrupted him. “Sorry, but I’d prefer to keep it to myself. You know the choice you mentioned - the important one? I think I just made it, and I’m hoping I made it right: but it was a tough call - really tough. I can’t talk about it.” Carefully, he put his glass down on the bar. “It’s done.”
“I hope I didn’t -”
“No -” Angel said abruptly: “- it wasn’t anything to do with you Wesley. It was my decision, my responsibility alone.”
To Wesley’s mind, though this was clearly a significant burden, Angel looked more serene than he had ever seen him before.
Lorne tapped the microphone. “Ladies and Gentle-things - well, you’d better be gentle in this bar! - I’d like to present a first-time songbird: Darla.”
There was loud applause, as well as hoots, grunts and wolf-whistles, but this soon died down as - seated in a pool of light - Darla began to sing.
“Mad about the boy
I know it's stupid to be mad about the boy
I'm so ashamed of it but must admit the sleepless nights I've had
About the boy …”
The song poured out like cream, pure and seductive, and it occurred to Wesley that Angel should to be tied to the mast before being allowed to hear such a voice. But then, perhaps those rocks and shoals were already in his wake.
Wesley’s heart clenched as he saw that Darla’s eyes were bright with unshed tears. He couldn’t help marvelling that a 400 year-old vampire could still summon such depth of emotion. But then, he didn’t seem to be losing his ability to be hurt as he grew older, so why should Darla? Maybe the passing years just stripped away your defences rather than making them stronger.
He glanced at Angel and saw that his eyes, too, were shining suspiciously. Wesley had the feeling that this song was affecting them for completely different reasons, but uniting them - perhaps for the last time - in grief.
“Lord knows I'm not a fool girl
I really shouldn't care
Lord knows I'm not a school girl
In the fury of her first affair …”
~~
Lorne, too, was transfixed, but the expression of rapture on his face quickly dissipated when Lindsey MacDonald pushed his way between the tables and chairs - drawing various indescribable noises of protest from those in his path - and strode up to him.
Stopping a few inches from Lorne’s face, Lindsey demanded. “Why? Was I so bad? Jeez! I thought you liked my singing!”
“Easy cowboy,” Lorne said, peering over the top of Lindsey’s head. “Who set your horse on fire?”
“You did!”
“Now why in all that’s whacky would I do a thing like that?” Lorne said vaguely, still trying to concentrate on Darla.
“You … of all people -” Lindsey pointed an accusatory finger at Lorne. “You shot me!”
That got Lorne’s attention - for all of five seconds. “Shot you?”
Lindsey might just as well have accused him of getting out of bed before noon.
“What with - my pinky?” Lorne waved the digit dismissively. “I don’t even own a gun, cherry pie, they make me squeamish.” He turned pointedly back towards the stage and Lindsey followed his gaze.
“Darla?” Lindsey said softly.
But Darla didn’t even notice Lindsey was there, so intent was she on Angel.
“Fuck!” Lindsey muttered.
“Hey!” Lorne smacked his hand. “You got some objection to this rather lovely songbird?”
“Not at all; it’s who she’s singin’ to that I can’t stomach,” Lindsey said bluntly.
Keen to smooth things over, Lorne pulled on Lindsey’s sleeve. “Come on then, tell me more about my newly acquired competence with firearms.”
Lindsey turned back to him, still seething. “I saw it - clearly as I see you now. I’d just killed a bunch of demons - for him!” He swivelled and pointed at Angel. “God knows why! And you: you were supposed to be helping me, but you turned on me and shot me.”
“And then you woke up in bed?” Lorne suggested urbanely. “Let me tell you kiddo, there’s these things called dreams -”
“It wasn’t a dream. I was wide awake. It … must have been a premonition. No! wait! I had a real living hand when you …” He shook his head, frowning. “What’s goin’ on here Lorne?”
“Can’t help you unless you sing,” Lorne said smoothly.
“How can I?” Lindsey said, making a dismissive gesture towards Angel with his prosthetic hand. “I’m finished, thanks to that fucker.”
“Last I looked, your voice comes out here.” Lorne pointed to Lindsey’s mouth. “No need to sulk just because you can’t play your instrument. You still have a fine set of vocal chords - use them. I don’t have your music on the sound machine, but some of the finest performers weren’t too proud to sing someone else’s song now and then. How about a bit of Springsteen? Johnny Cash? Tom Petty?”
Lindsey glanced at Darla, who was now clearly aware of his presence but pretending otherwise.
“I don’t feel much like singing right now.”
“Then maybe you should shut up.” Lorne suggested acidly. “I’ll stand you a shot of bourbon, to make up for shooting you, and you’ll let me listen to this, how’s that sound?”
Lindsey just turned his back to the stage, his jaw tight.
“So if I could employ
A little magic that will finally destroy
This dream that pains me and enchains me
But I can't because I'm mad...
I'm mad about the boy.”
The song ended, Darla dipped her head to acknowledge the applause, and Lorne reached up to take her hand as she stepped down.
“My, my!” Lorne enthused. “A true chanteuse! What are you tryin’ to do to me? There’s only so much raw emotion this anagogic demon can take.”
“You asked for it,” she replied smoothly.
Lorne moved to block her path. “That’s not to say I’m not going to cough up a reading for you. It might be a while, but -”
She wafted a hand dismissively as she pushed past him. “I don’t want a reading - life’s enough of a bore, without having my path sign-posted.”
“Well, well. How refreshing!” Lorne said to her retreating back. He shrugged.
As Darla began to make her way to the exit - ignoring Lindsey as completely as he was now ignoring her - she shot a longing glance at Angel. Angel looked back, and nodded once.
Then Lindsey caved and went after her. He caught up with her and put a hand on her arm, but she brushed him off. He tried once more. She turned her game-face on him - just for a second, but it was enough. She slipped out of his grasp, and out of the door.
Defeated, Lindsey went back to the bar, and set about completing the task of self-obliteration.
~~
Lilah had been having the most disturbing evening. When she’d left Darla, and gone back to her car to keep watch, she must have fallen asleep. That was the only explanation she could come up with for the illusion that she’d been having sex with Angel’s sidekick - what was his name? Winston? Wiley? No - Wesley: that was it.
And that was just wrong.
He’d been much more proficient - not to mention more domineering - than she’d imagined he would be. Not that she’d imagined him at all in a sexual capacity.
And when did Wesley stop shaving?
She needed a drink; and more than that, she was gripped with a sudden need to know ... would her gamble pay off? Had the apocalypse been salvaged?
There was no way she was going in-house - she’d had enough of those spooky seers, and their double talk.
There was only one thing for it.
~~
As Lilah walked into the bar, the first person - or thing - she recognised was Angel.
He smiled at her.
After the evening she’d had, the last thing she wanted - or expected - was to see Angel, smiling at her. She went straight to the bar and checked the mirror, and wasn’t pleased to find herself looking somewhat - for her - disarranged. She pulled her shirt collar straight and fixed her lipstick.
When she spotted Wesley reflected in the mirror, sitting further down the bar, she blushed from her stiletto heels to her roots. What surprised her was that the instant their eyes happened to meet, she saw Wesley echo her blush. He looked quickly away, appearing almost guilty.
For a brief instant, she wondered whether he might in some way be responsible for her strange dream … But no. He didn’t look like someone who dabbled in magic or had any mental powers.
Annoyingly, he refused to look in her direction again, depriving her of the opportunity to blank him, so she ordered a drink. With a glass in her hand she felt more able to cope.
“Pen!” she demanded of Ramon as he began to serve the demon next to her.
A pair of indigo eyes looked at her in disapproval, from an otherwise strangely-featureless pale grey face. “You could say ‘please’ you know. Good manners cost nothing, young lady.”
Lilah snorted. “Please!” she said sarcastically to Ramon.
Great: she was reduced to accepting advice on etiquette from a nose-deprived monster that subsisted on old mattresses. Finally in possession of a writing implement, she scribbled a few words on a coaster and stalked over to where Lorne was sitting.
“Ah: the lovely Lilah Morgan.” He looked her over with an appraising eye. “What’s ruffled your feathers this evening, chicken?”
“Thanks for noticing,” she said cuttingly, as she thrust the note into his hand. “I take it you can accommodate me?”
“Sure I can - it’s a classic - but -”
“Cut the crap green-genes and play the music!”
He cued up her track. “I never argue with a lady,” he said; then he turned and made a face at Ramon.
“Hey!” she said. “I saw that!”
~~
“You keep playin' where you shouldn't be playin’.
And you keep thinkin' that you´ll never get burned.
Ha! I just found me a brand new box of matches, yeah;
And what he know you ain't had time to learn.”
Okay, so her rendition of her chosen song might be slightly off-key: at least it was enthusiastic. Lilah managed to keep her attention focussed on Angel for the whole time, and all the while, Angel just carried on smiling amiably at her. It was enough to give a girl the willies. By the time she got near the end, she had a feeling that she’d need a very stiff drink indeed.
“These boots are made for walking, and that's just what they'll do
One of these days these boots are gonna walk all over you.
Are you ready boots? Start walkin'!”
Lilah only stumbled once as she left the stage, and congratulated herself on that fact as she returned to her barstool. She drummed her fingers on the bar next to Lorne.
“Well?” she demanded.
Even Lilah couldn’t help noticing that his earlier attitude of benign indifference had been superseded by one of thinly disguised distaste, bordering on suspicion.
“What?” she said, disturbed by his demeanour.
“Easy there: I’ll tell, don’t fret; but I need some time. Things have been on the strange side this evening; I have to see the whole picture before I can be sure.”
“So I’m going to have to hang around with these losers all evening to get my reading?” Lilah tossed back her drink. “Things just keep getting better!”
“No need to be such a sourpuss,” Lorne snapped. “Believe me, I wouldn’t keep you, but I’ve got a feeling that tonight’s readings are among the few I can’t afford to get wrong.”
“What, you sometimes get things wrong?”
For all her cynicism, Lilah was mildly shocked.
“I sometimes do, but when you mess up, you mess up good!” Lorne said slyly.
“What? What are you saying?” She reached out to grab him, but Lorne slid off his stool and beat a hasty retreat; he was soon lost in the crowd.
“Messed things up have I?” Lilah muttered under her breath as she slammed her glass down and ordered another with a glance and a quirk of her eyebrow. “I’m only trying to do my job!”
“And I’m sure you were doing it to the very best of your abilities, my dear.”
She whipped her head round to check. Yes, it was Holland Manners who had snuck up behind her. It would be nice if people would stop doing that. She perused his unlikely attire - jeans, loafers, and a sweater adorned with a repeating pattern of reindeer and snowmen. He looked like someone’s kindly gay uncle.
“So, you came for a reading?” Lilah asked him.
“No, I prefer to rely on the professionals,” he said. “I’m here for pleasure - not even bothering to network. I just felt drawn to this place tonight. Odd isn’t it?”
“You’re not wrong.” Lilah looked him up and down once more, with a slight frown. “There’s a lot of it going around.”
She waited for him to order, but Holland just stood there, looking at the glass Ramon had put in front of her, so - reluctantly - she asked, “Can I get you a drink?” She rummaged in her clutch-purse. “Red wine isn’t it?”
Holland looked suddenly pale. “I seem to have gone off wine completely - don’t know why … especially red wine. No, I’ll have a gin and tonic, thanks. But there’s no hurry - I’m going to exercise the old vocal chords first!” He signalled to Lorne that he was ready. “Haven’t done this in a while…”
Lilah’s jaw dropped as she saw her boss get up on stage. Apparently he’d already chosen his song, because almost at once, the music began to play.
~~
TBC