Endymion's Repose

Chapter One

One Month Later…

Lilah Morgan was not pleased.

She glanced over the report in her hand, eyes drifting over each word and not really reading any of them. Each word was already imprinted in her mind, ready to be recalled at a moment's notice. And each and every inked line could be summed up in one word: failure. Once again, she'd planned and prepared and all her efforts were for naught. She felt her fingers curl and resisted the urge to slam them down with childish fury on the lacquer of her desk. That damned girl was still alive and Lilah had yet another expenditure to explain to the board.

When she'd been given the assignment of eliminating the Slayer known as Faith, it had seemed simplicity itself. After all, unlike Buffy Summers, Faith was incarcerated, her movements restricted to the walls of a prison. There were only so many places she could be. And with the girl's movements watched and ready to be restrained at the least sign of violence, it should have been an easily accomplished task. That the girl still lived was not just a sign of her target's resourcefulness, it was a slap in the face to Lilah's abilities.

It could make the board start to doubt her usefulness.

She could not - no, correction, Lilah would not, allow that to happen. They had been ready to cut their losses, and her, when Lindsey suddenly decided to grow a conscience - or whatever it was that possessed her rival to behave the way he did in the boardroom the night before he left Los Angeles for good. She still was not one hundred percent certain what made Lindsey McDonald rave like an idiot for five minutes before making his exit and handing the promotion over to her, although not before he had the nerve to smack her bottom and it no longer really mattered. What mattered is that she was here, she was in charge, and Lilah Morgan was not about to let some upstart trailer trash excuse for a slayer get the best of her.

Perhaps the problem was not Lilah and her expenditures. After all, with the backing of Wolfram and Hart, she could hire the best of the best, and she knew that she had not sent amateurs after the incarcerated little traitor tramp. Far from it. The cream of the crop had gone in after Faith, and the cream of the crop always came back dead, if there was any body left to be found or come back in the end.

Vampires were easy, they disappeared into clouds of dust. The demons, those were harder. But not so hard that the warden wasn't willing to look the other way. The whole cellblock was willing to close their eyes and pretend that they hadn't seen what they saw because that was the way of the world. Little dark things really did go bump in the night and more than three-quarters of the city pretended that it was otherwise. In some ways that was nice; it made her work and the work of Wolfram and Hart a great deal easier.

She was, Lilah realized as her attention turned from the report to stare out of the window of her corner office, approaching this from the entirely wrong angle. The question that framed itself repeatedly in her mind was what precisely was the right angle?

Lilah hated to admit it, but at times like this she truly missed Lindsey. Oh, certainly he would never have given her the answer. He would have laughed at her failing. But he also would have reacted, subtly and instinctively, he would have made some telephone call that she could sometimes manage to overhear, or arranged a meeting with some shady character that would have given her the insight and the hint that she needed. Lilah may not have trusted Lindsey any further than she could have thrown him, but she had known how to use and manipulate him.

He was a man. It was easy.

And that, she supposed was her problem with the Slayer. Lilah had no resources, no sounding board and no way to figure out how precisely the Slayer would react to the things that Lilah literally at her. Wolfram and Hart had piles of paperwork on Angel, even on Buffy Summers, but nothing that gave them a full and complete work up on Faith. The only thing that was predictable where Faith was concerned was that the little bitch was fully unpredictable.

And that was her mistake. Treating Faith as if she were Buffy Summers or that fool Angelus. Treating her as if she could be worn down or caught off-guard. Faith had already proven her willingness to kill and her adeptness at surviving what ever was thrown in her path. Lilah could continue to throw all the vampires and demons and other such in her path and maybe one of them would get lucky but more likely her employers would get tired of these wasteful games. When that happened, it might be * her* retainer up, not Faith's.

Sinking her hands into her perfectly coifed hair, for once uncaring of the damage she did, Lilah massaged her temples as if that would somehow present her the idea she so desperately needed. Take Faith out of the game. Those had been the orders handed down from the board. Make it so the trampy vamp slayer was no longer a future asset to Angel. The last thing they needed was for the soul-cursed vampire to gain another potentially powerful ally. The Chase girl and the Host were enough of a thorn as it was.

And the Host . . . Lilah didn't even want to think about that. They had tried to sway him to their side, convince him that the senior partners would be more than willing to pay a generous compensation if he were to provide his services solely to Wolfram and Hart and their special clients. It had almost been funny to watch him laugh in Holland's face and call Holland Manners "sweet cheeks." But almost funny wasn't quite funny when the next few weeks were a living hell to work under Manners. The man had been condescendingly smug when she screwed up; he was a bear when he messed up.

Fortunately, Holland was dead. Dead, like that jailbird Slayer should have been. As dead as Angel as long as you ignored the walking around, talking and fighting bits.

Lilah needed a new angle. The same old tired schtick was not going to cut it - Faith's continued existence only proved that in spades.

With an impatient groan, Lilah jerked open the lower drawer of her desk and retrieved the orange and gold bottle of name brand ibuprofen. Shaking exactly two into her and checking the time on her watch, she stood. Normally she took the over-the-counter headache suppressants dry, but walking certainly couldn't help. With any luck, a walk to the water cooler would at least get her out of the office, and save her an uncomfortable encounter with one of the higher ups. At least until she had another report, another miserable excuse for her failure ready.

She barely smiled or acknowledged those who nodded or smiled in her direction. It didn't matter, all smiles in this place were fake, hiding greed and envy and a knife clenched between teeth. Lilah could almost hear the conversations she knew had to go on behind her back, how she had kept her job and her heart by default, how she continued to be a disappointment to the firm and the partners, how she would never be Lindsey.

Once she thought there was something to be said for her ability to remain detached and not obsess over things. However, it was Lindsey's obsessions that garnered him the respect of the board, and his obsessions that would have given him her job if he had not turned it down. Too bad she simply was not passionate enough about either Angel or the Slayer or perhaps she would have made better progress by now.

The water cooler was occupied by two young interns whom Lilah knew for a fact had a long way to go if they ever wanted to climb the ladders to success at Wolfram and Hart. Their water cooler talk consisted of their latest sexual conquests, thinly veiled as case discussions naturally because sexual harassment simply wasn't tolerated in an upstanding environment like Wolfram and Hart, and science fiction television. More than once, Lilah had been tempted to tell them to grow up, and today was no exception.

She felt their eyes on her as she leaned forward to fill a cup with water, felt their eyes as though they had fingers on them, running up her legs and over her backside appraisingly, even as they continued their inane babble. They didn't speak to her - they knew better than to even attempt conversation with the out of reach, over their heads Lilah Morgan.

"Another time warp episode," one of them remarked. "Leave it to Rick Berman, if he gets bored he can always fall back on temporal anomalies. All right, so the whole temporal stasis thing was a new take-"

Lilah nearly choked on the water.

The answer was right in front of her and she hadn't seen it.

They said take Faith out of the game. No one said she had to kill the Slayer. Killing was messy and killing was not easy. No, all Lilah had to do was take the Slayer out of the game for a little while, until they managed to deal with Angel.

Lilah felt her mouth curving upward, unleashing it upon the hapless two who had unwittingly supplied her with the answer. The two men fell silent, entranced, as she tossed her water cup in the nearby wastebasket. She leaned forward, straightening the tie of one and dusting the crumbs off the lapels of the other. "You two just saved my life. Remind me that I owe you. Better yet, don't bother."

She felt like giggling, if Lilah Morgan ever allowed herself to giggle, as she walked away from the dumbstruck pair. Lindsey who? She thought with a triumphant smirk.

***

"Angel, you have to get me the hell out of here," Faith growled into the telephone.

Angel raised his eyebrow, nearly pulling the phone away from his ear with a painful wince at the Slayer's volume. Faith was practically radiating tension, so much so that he was surprised the glass separating them hadn't shattered from the pressure. There were circles under the girl's dark eyes, circles that along with the anxiety he felt rolling off of her, told him that Faith hadn't been getting much, if any sleep.

He saw the policewoman behind her watching them carefully, watching *Faith * carefully. Her hand drifted down to rest upon the grip of her gun. Angel met the woman's suspicious blue eyes over Faith's head and he glanced away quickly.

"Calm down, Faith," Angel soothed, "And lower your voice, please."

"Sure as hell easy for you to say," Faith snarled, "You're out there and I'm stuck in here with things trying to kill me. And I think we both know who's at the bottom of this,"

"Faith--"

"Angel, tell me that you're here bringing me good news. Please. I need good news. Give me good news." Dark haunted eyes lifted to meet his and he realized for the first time it wasn’t anger ruling Faith; more like a healthy dose of paranoia and fear.

Angel drummed his fingers on the desk before speaking. "You're right. Word out on the street is Wolfram and Hart has a contract on you."

"Angel! I said good news," Faith almost shrilled as she half-rose. "Not for you to confirm I'm going to be dead tomorrow."

"You are not going to be dead tomorrow," Angel replied, his fists tightening at the thought. Faith had gone through a lot to be here and her desire to change was a testament to every demon she had fought and managed to vanquish. Angel would be damned if he let Wolfram and Hart snatch another person he cared for from him. "Faith, please. Sit down."

Faith hesitated then dropped back into orange plastic of her chair. "This is it, isn't it? Dead Slayer, game over. Wonder who they'll call next."

"Faith--"

"Do you have any idea?" Angel was shocked to hear Faith's voice tremble. "D-did English or Tweed give you any idea?"

He reached out wishing he could touch her hand, let her take what comfort she could from his cold touch, instead having to satisfy himself by placing his palm flat against the protective window between them. "Stop it, Faith. That's not going to happen. I won't let it."

"Yeah, well it isn't you they're after this time, is it? It's me. And unlike you, I don't have anywhere to go or any weapons. I've been lucky so far. What happens when they send something I can't kill bare-handed or with a pencil or the lid of my toilet?"

"It's not going to get that far. I'll deal with Wolfram and Hart. This is going to end. Tonight, I promise."

Faith stared at him, and he was seized by the image of a lone girl screaming out her pain in the rage, a girl who had tortured her former Watcher, slept with the boyfriend of her former friend, the girl who had tried to convince him to kill her. That girl would have fought her way out of this instead of asking for his help. Instead of relying on him, there would have been dead bodies piling up, perhaps hers among them. Faith was fighting that wild girl, fighting the wild thing she had been. She had been since accepting her incarceration here but every now and then he thought he caught just a flicker, just a glimmer that told him that wild creature was far from tamed, let alone dead.

"What makes you think I'll still be here tonight?" The words were slow, distinct.

Angel felt a chill at the base of his neck, a chill that slicked down his back with an almost audible click. As if her words held a truth that could not be denied. He shook his head. No, nothing was going to happen. Faith was going to be fine. Even if he had to tear Wolfram and Hart down, stone by stone.

The cop in the corner was glancing at her watch. Angel had no need to check his. His time was up. He kept a wary eye on the policewoman as he turned his attention back to the Slayer.

"It's just a few more hours, Faith. The sun will set and this is all going to end."

"Promise?" Her voice wavered, high and unsure like a little girl's, like the child she had never truly been.

He twitched his hand in gesture against the glass, waiting until she mirrored his movement. "I promise," Angel said solemnly, willing her to believe in him, to trust in him.

She nodded slowly. He could tell she didn't believe him; no, not with that half-resigned, half-terrified expression. The policewoman was standing just behind her now and with a rueful smile, Faith leaned forward and touched the glass with her lips before rising to leave without a backward glance.

Angel stared after her, wanting nothing more than to call her back. To make her take back what she had just done. To make her take back the good-bye she had just said without words.

'It's not going to happen,' he thought grimly, clutching at the collar of his jacket, so it could be properly loosened to pull over his head for the dash to the darkened car where Wesley sat, probably patiently waiting for him all the while reading up on his demonology.

He had lost Darla, he'd lost Doyle, and he sure as hell was not going to lose Faith, too.

"It will be all right," he muttered. More to comfort himself than anything else.

Too bad it didn't work.

***

Faith allowed herself to be led back to her cell, ignoring the guards standing way too close for her comfort. Sometimes they did this, usually a newbie trying to intimidate his or her way into respect. It never worked but that didn't stop them from trying. Usually it creeped the hell out of her but not now. Now, she'd rather sit in a room with these two guards watching her with open wariness than spend one more minute in that tiny cell alone, alone and very nearly defenseless.

'You could change that,' a voice whispered in her head. Faith licked her lips, head tilting downward so she could glance back at the guards trailing her without tipping them off. She caught a glimpse of their weapons. They weren't really paying attention to her at the moment, eyes instead riveted to the other cells they passed, to some of the livelier inmates. It would take so little to trip them up and take one of those guns, maybe a hostage. She could bargain her way out of here, get out without hurting anyone. Her hands curled and uncurled, fingers flexing and wrists testing the cuffs trapping them. It would take nothing at all to snap these flimsy toys with her Slayer strength.

What it would take was a step back. If Faith let herself do it, could she really get out of here without any bloodshed? Part of her cried, 'Who the hell cares? Just cut your losses and get out.' The other part, the part of her she liked to think was the Slayer in her coming out, resisted. These people didn't deserve to die because of her.

And she didn't deserve to die because of the twisting agendas of some crooked law firm.

In a way though it was her fault. She should never have made a deal with them in the first place. She'd known the first time she'd laid eyes on Lilah Morgan and Lindsey MacDonald that they were trouble. A much bigger noise than she could ever hope to be. If she'd been smart, she'd have taken their thinly veiled hints and shoved them out the window with a couple of dishonest lawyers, just before getting the hell out of Los Angeles. But no, she'd stayed; stayed and taken the contract they'd offered her for Angel's life. And then she'd thought she could just decide not to follow through on her deal without consequences when she'd finally decided that letting Angel help her was better than killing him. She'd made yet another mistake and this one just might cost her big.

The moment of decision passed her by as she dithered and Faith found herself being pushed into her cell. She opened her mouth to protest such treatment when she felt her eyes widening in horror.

Lilah Morgan, all dressed to the nines and perfectly immaculate, was sitting on her bed, hands folded patiently over her lap. Standing just behind her was a tall dark figure, one hidden by graying, creased robes that seemed like shadows made substantial. The hood of those robes lay folded down well over the chest so that not a hint of the face could be seen. For a brief second, Faith wondered how he, she, it could see anything.

It was Lilah's voice that brought her out of her daze, that and the damnably smug promise she saw writ on the other woman's face. "Hello, Faith. We've been waiting for you."

The Slayer backed up, this time fully intent on backpedaling over her guards, and found the cold smack of bars meeting her flesh. She whirled around just in time to see the pair that had escorted her walking away.

"Wait!" she yelled after them, desperation rising, "Come back."

They continued walking, never stopping, never pausing despite her cries. "Please," Faith whispered just before they rounded the corner out of sight. "Please. Angel."

"Now, now, Faith," Lilah purred behind her. "Is that anyway to greet an old friend?"

***End of Chapter One