Chapter Twenty-Five

“His coordinates haven’t changed in an hour—looks like he’s gone to ground,” said Gunn decisively, consulting a sleek GPS device more advanced than anything the public would ever see...mostly because it was magically enhanced.

“Or he’s sitting in a diner, eating a slice of pie,” Fred countered from the back seat.

Gunn shrugged. Nayer didn’t strike him as a man who’d be caught dead at a diner, but she had a point. “Doesn’t matter. No one can hide from Wolfram & Hart.”

Angel tightened his hands on the steering wheel, but said nothing. Charles was right—no one could escape from Wolfram & Hart. Its reach was vast, its grasp inescapable. They had him as tightly as they’d ever had Holland or Lilah, but he wouldn’t complain. He’d known what he was doing going in; he would have done more, if necessary, to help Connor. To give him the life he should always have had.

That didn’t explain why Gunn and the others had joined up. He still found it inexplicable. All those years together, and apparently he didn’t know them that well at all.

Angel would never have joined Wolfram & Hart if it weren’t for Connor.

And now Charles walked around with a brain full of legal knowledge he hadn’t earned, and used it to defend the kind of monsters they used to kill. Fred oversaw a laboratory that constructed weapons of unimaginable power, weapons nations would empty their treasuries for, and sold them to the highest bidder. Angel wasn’t completely sure he could trust either of them anymore.

He gritted his teeth. His motive for joining Wolfram & Hart might have been honorable, but he wasn’t doing any more good there than the rest of them. He just had a bigger office.

“Can we stop by to see Willow on the way back?” Fred asked hopefully. “We’ll be in the area, and I haven’t seen her in months! Do you suppose she’s changed? I wonder if she’s missed me—I’ve missed her! I wish she lived L.A.; she could drop by the lab and I know she’d have great suggestions and it would so nice to have a girlfriend in town. I mean, there’s you guys, but sometimes it’s nice to have a girlfriend.”

There was a long pause before Angel said, “What about Cordelia?”

Fred gasped, mortified. “I mean, a different kind of girlfriend—like, a theoretical physics girlfriend. Of course Cordelia’s my friend! It’s just that, well…we hardly ever see her anymore. And I kind of get the feeling she hates Wolfram & Hart.”

“And us,” mumbled Gunn.

“She does not hate us,” insisted Angel. He wasn’t sure, actually. He missed the friendship he and Cordy used to have, but that was a lifetime ago. He felt almost like another person. Man, he was getting a headache.

“Well, we could visit her, too. She didn’t say anything about when she was coming back.”

“We’ll have Nayer with us. That’s the whole point,” Angel lectured. “If you wanted to visit you should have taken your own car.” In the back seat Fred fell silent, giving him a sympathetic look that was way too perceptive.

Charles fiddled with his GPS device, fine-tuning the signal. “Good thing Spellcasting was able to set up this sweet detection spell. Thought he could escape from Wolfram & Hart? Nobody gets away from Wolfram & Hart.”

Angel tried not to flinch. No kidding.

After a moment Gunn spoke again, his voice a little tense. “Looks like you’re going to get your visit after all, Fred.”

“What?”

“Nayer’s not just in Santa Rita—looks like he’s at Slayer Central.”

Angel ground his teeth and kept driving. He was getting too old for this.

“That’s wonderfu—” she broke off when she noticed the look on Angel’s face. “Wonderful? It’ll be wonderful, right?” She looked at Gunn worriedly.

“Look, both of you have got to chill out. It will be fine. All of it. Fred, you’re going to have fun geeking out, and Angel, you’re going to have fun brooding. It’s a win-win. And then we’ll go back and you’ll see your girlfriend before she goes all hairy, and everything will be fine. So everybody just chill.”

Charles tucked the GPS away, since they didn’t need it anymore.

The Slayer would keep their client warm for them.

***

Giles would never forget the first time he’d seen Ethan: elegantly attired, perfect posture, charming a young woman at a party. His eyes were as hard as diamonds, and Giles could almost feel a chill rising from his flesh.

Giles was young enough to be impressed.

Then Ethan had turned his gaze to Rupert and his smile had become even more charming. He’d suggested they join a few of his friends for a much more interesting gathering.

Giles had never been sure how Ethan had known how susceptible he was. A few years earlier, he would have been too obedient to his father’s wishes to venture into the underworld of the supernatural; a few years later, he would have been too confident, too cognizant of the danger, to act so recklessly.

But that wisdom was hard-won. Maybe without his experiences with Ethan and the others—without the nightmare they’d endured, the demon that had finally claimed each of them except Ethan and himself—he never would have understood exactly how dark his own impulses could be.

A predator could always sense those things.

“Why do you keep coming back?”

“Come now, you’d miss me. Admit it. We have a bond no one can break, Ripper. No matter how much you ignore it or try to deny it.”

“I think you’re confusing this with a Shirley Bassey song.”

“No, I’m the other half of you. You know it, somewhere inside you. What decision have you made that I haven’t been a part of? Who do you think overcame your misgivings about the Cruciamentum?”

It took a moment for Giles to register Ethan’s meaning. “What—”

“Not to mention conspiring with the schoolmaster to kill the Slayer’s pet vampire. Insisting your Slayer make all the decisions about the First while she flailed and you told her it was her duty and watched her flail. Abandoning your suicidal Slayer while you hied back to England and indulged in some bourgeois fantasy of being a country squire.”

“She wasn’t alone,” Giles gritted. It had been reasonable. It had been for her own good.

“My pardon. You left her with a power-mad witch, a lovesick vampire, an anchor around her neck—sorry, I mean sister—and a pile of debts bigger than Scafell Pike. Well done, Ripper. It was my masterpiece.”

No. No, no—

“Who does that sound like to you? Stodgy, proper Rupert? Or maybe a little more like me?”

“How?” breathed Giles, tamping down nausea.

Ethan laughed, then winced as Buffy’s rough handling made itself known. She might how a little more care when she was dealing with precious cargo.

“Well, clearly Eyghon isn’t feasible any longer. And Janus was a bust.”

“What?”

“Rupert, please. You know me. I take pleasure in serving others.” Giles scoffed, and Ethan smiled a little “As they can do something for me in return. She’s been with me for years now.”

“She?”

“The First. She’s always seemed like a woman to me. So vicious. Knows exactly how to make it hurt.”

“Are you telling me—”

Ethan’s smile grew. “She was weakened after your Slayer defeated her years ago. She needed a supplicant.”

“A supplicant,” Giles repeated in disgust.

“The Old Ones need worship. They can’t survive without it. With it … look how strong Eyghon grew under our worship, all those years ago. And he was nothing next to her. The Bringers weren’t enough. She needed a host. So that was me. And sometimes … sometimes that was you.”

His jaw, it hurt. Giles forced himself to unclench it to speak. “The First. You forced it into me. How?”

Ethan laughed. “She didn’t need force, just a road map. The path Eyghon took is still there. Sorry, Rupert, but once your cherry’s been plucked, that’s it. It just gets easier and easier for any demon who wants a ride.”

Giles could feel the blood drain from his face.

“I suppose I might have helped her along just a bit.”

“So why didn’t you turn up last year? Didn’t figure into her grand plan?” Giles flared.

Ethan’s mouth tightened. “She said she needed more. Used me when it suited her, but also made her blind army and anointed that inbred fanatic. After your Slayer and her munchkin army destroyed the Hellmouth I was the only one who could help her. She needed me again. And what can I say, Rupert? What’s mine is yours.”

***

Faith popped an almond into her mouth, enjoying the salty crackle against her tongue. “So what are we going to do with him?”

“Turn him over to the authorities,” Andrew answered promptly, hopping up on the kitchen counter.

“Buffy’s the authority for this,” Dawn scolded before noticing Faith looking at her and quailing a little. “One of the authorities.”

Buffy shook her head. “We’re going to have to talk to Giles before we make any decisions. I mean, Ethan’s kind of his personal pain in the ass. Well really, he’s everyone’s pain in the ass, just especially Giles. He’s got the seniority on this.”

“By like 200 years,” agreed Cordelia.

Wood cleared his throat, the sound rough. “Are we sure his judgment about this is sterling?”

Willow stared, a little scandalized. She wanted to protest, but the image of Kennedy’s broken body flashed through her mind. That was the First, not Giles, she told herself.

Until the binding spell couldn’t contain the First any longer, and it could be Giles any time it wanted.

“He’s not possessed by the First now,” Buffy pointed out. “He’s been hurt by Ethan more than anybody.”

“But this isn’t just Ethan,” Xander pointed out. “It’s the First, too. And we’ve all been hurt by the First.” Behind him Dawn’s eyes grew bright with tears, then she blinked them away with a determination she wouldn’t have shown a year or two before.

Buffy shifted unhappily. She was good at punching and kicking and quips, and also with the crossbow. This, though, was the kind of judgment thing she relied on Giles for. She didn’t feel equipped for this.

A hand closed over her upper arm, the thumb rubbing soothingly over the inside of her elbow. After a few moments she felt herself begin to relax. She flashed Spike a grateful look before turning to the others. “Look, we need Giles’s input on this; that doesn’t mean we have to take it. When he’s done talking with Ethan we’ll have a talk with him and get his take on it. Until then, let’s just relax, because there isn’t much we can do ‘til then.”

“Someone should probably stay close to them. Just in case,” Faith pointed out.

Xander raised his hand. “I’ll do it. Watching Ethan with the commando skills he gave me seems like sweet, sweet justice. Or irony? Something like that.”

Wood raised an eyebrow. “He gave you commando skills? Like, for Christmas?”

Xander chuckled and snagged a Dr. Pepper. “Why don’t you ask Willow? She was floating around back then.”

The others looked puzzled, but Willow, Buffy, and Cordelia all started laughing. Xander had never been Grinch-ish except when it came to demons who alternately tried to slaughter them and cozy up to them, but he was pretty sure his heart grow three sizes. The original Scoobies, back together.

Felt good.

***

Angel, Gunn, and Fred stared at the house. For some reason they were still in the car. Angel had no problem doing what needed to be done, no matter what Fred thought. “Look, we don’t need to discuss our psyches or whatever. I’ve done est, I don’t need to do it again.”

“What’s est?” she asked. “Is it a spa?”

“It sounds like a music festival,” offered Gunn.

Angel sighed. “It was before your time.” He was surrounded people who couldn’t remember the ‘70s, chasing someone not because he was evil, but because his check bounced. And apparently his target was at Buffy’s house. Where Buffy was. Which was fine, because it was not going to be even slightly awkward. They were adults. Him by a little more. There would be a calm, cordial exchange, and then they’d be back in L.A. by dinner.

There was no reason for this not to be simple and easy. Angel squared his shoulders and marched up to the front door, pounding it in an entirely businesslike way. The others trailed after him.

After a moment Xander opened the door, his eye patch stark against his face. Probably thought he looked dashing or something. For a couple of moments Xander just blinked at them, then grinned like the obnoxious knob he was. “Hey, Angel. Aren’t you looking young and pale. Strange. Me, I’m really starting to feel my age. And you should see Spike! Getting older by the day. Must be all the sunlight he’s getting.”

Angel ground his teeth. If he lived long enough to develop a bat face like the Master, he’d still never understand why Buffy was friends with this troglodyte.

“May I come in?” he grated. Since he’d never been there before, because why would he?

“Hmm. Hmm.” Xander tapped one finger against his chin. “I’m not sure. Why are you here again? For the first time? Are you maybe evil again? It’s been a year or two, that’s the pattern, right?”

“Angel?” Willow’s voice drew his attention, and he gave her a beseeching look. “Come in! I mean, Xander’s right, you’re not evil, are you?”

By then he was stepping over the threshold, so the question was pointless. Besides, Fred was pushing him out of the way to rush to Willow and smother her in a hug. “He’s not evil, he’s just nervous,” she assured Willow.

“I am not nervous,” Angel snapped.

Fred rolled her eyes. “Okay, not nervous. Grumpy.” To Willow she whispered, “He’s nervous.” Willow gave her a knowing look and nodded towards the kitchen, and the two of them disappeared, giggling.

Gunn nudged at Angel and he stepped away from the doorway. “Look,” he said in annoyance, “This wasn’t really planned. I just need—”

“Yes, I’m fine. Thank you for asking.”

Angel looked up to see Cordelia coming down the staircase, an irate expression on her face.

Beside him Xander shifted. “By the way, thanks for letting us know that Cordelia had recovered. That way we didn’t have a group coronary when she turned up.”

Cordy scowled. “‘Turned up’? That makes me sound like a stray cat.”

Xander shrugged, smirking just a little. “Well, that wouldn’t be wrong.”

“Big talk for a guy who—” she glanced at Angel and hesitated a moment, then finished “dresses like a construction worker.”

Angel thought Xander flashed her a grateful look. “What? T-shirts and work boots aren’t big in L.A.?”

Fred and Willow came around the corner, Fred sipping a soda as Willow talked a mile a minute. Faith and Wood followed them, Faith giving Angel a brief nod. When Fred noticed Cordelia she beamed. “Cordy!” she exclaimed, rushing up to give her a hug, as if it has been months instead of days since she’s seen her.

“And look at Xander! So handsome! Willow says you have your own construction company,” she said effusively.

Cordelia squinted at her. Was she matchmaking or something? That was ridiculous, because that ship had sailed long ago. Some relationships weren’t meant to be. No matter how right they felt.

Angel stirred uncomfortably. God, he hated this. The whole thing made him nostalgic for cholera.

A noise at the top of the stairs drew his attention. He caught Xander flash him a malicious smile as he looked up, and there she was. Buffy. As beautiful as ever, a relaxed, sated look sliding from her face as she noticed him. And just behind her, his hand in hers, was Spike.

Angel set his jaw. Time to get this over with. “I believe you have something of mine.”

***

It took a moment for the big figure at the landing to register with Spike. Too big to be Harris, too solid to be Giles. Too much of a vampire to be Wood.

Shit.

It was another moment before what he’d said sank in.

“She’s not a thing, you miserable prick,” he spat. “Christ, could you be more insulting?”

Angel’s look was contemptuous. “I’m not referring to Buffy. Obviously.”

Spike dropped Buffy’s hand, clearly about to charge down the stairs. Buffy stepped in front of him before they could start banging their chests. “What’s this about?”

Gunn cleared his throat, caught Angel’s eye, and nodded towards the library.

Angel nodded back. “Yeah, I can smell him. Toffee and panic sweat.” The scent was all over his contract.

Peering around the corner, Andrew nudged Dawn. “See? That’s what I always say. Except I say toffee and old books. And maybe baby powder?”

Dawn shook her head. “He’s not talking about Giles,” she whispered.

“You remember him?” Buffy asked in surprise.

Fred and Gunn looked at Angel in curiosity. He felt embarrassment crawl over him, even more unwelcome in this strange place—Buffy’s home, with nothing he recognized of Buffy, the blithe girl he’d fallen in love with before they’d even met. With Buffy looking at him as if he were an intruder, and Cordelia’s gaze a constant recrimination, with Spike glaring at him and Harris eating the whole thing up with a spoon. Even with Fred and Gunn and Faith here, it felt foreign. A hostile land that wanted to expel him.

But it didn’t matter. He was here for a job.

Talk was pointless. He bit back angry words and was at the door Charles had nodded towards in a second. He swung the door open and there was Giles and … that guy.

“Hey, I know you,” Angel said in surprise. “You gave Buffy a tattoo, right? And there was a demon? Huh. Did you always wear that cologne?”