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Lindsay's Angels
 by TJ

Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five Part Six Part Seven Part Eight Part Nine-Seventeen Part Eighteen-Twenty-Four Part Twenty-five - Thirty Part Thirty-One - Last Update



Part One

Three months after the incident in The Magic Box



The smashing of glass followed Angel as he strode swiftly from
the front lobby and into the kitchen.

"You shouldn't insist on doing everything for him Angel. I know
you want to but you need to just learn to give him his space."

"I know Joyce, but it's just so hard. I'm terrified of losing
him."

Joyce pushed back her long hair as she rose from the kitchen
bench and crossed over to the sink. Dish cloth wet under the
running water, she squeezed out the excess, handing the wet rag
to the brunette vampire. She smiled dryly as she watched Angel
dab at the white liquid that threatened to mar his shirtfront.
Poor Wesley. Even after the surgeons had managed to re-attach
most of his tongue, the ex-watcher had been left with virtually
no taste sensations except the sweet/sour taste buds that ran
along the sides of the tongue. He was unable to identify
different flavours or if anything was spicy or bland. The man
no longer found any joy in eating. Everyone, especially Angel
was worried that he was now looking way too thin.

Giving Angel's lower arm a pat, Joyce stood on tiptoes to give
the much taller man a peck on the cheek. A faint smile from the
usually solemn face and she could tell that he was almost in
tears. Ever since the tragedy at The Magic Box, in which
everyone had lost loved ones and friends, all had been walking
an emotional tightrope. Everyone was displaying the stress and
loss in different ways.

Angel was often found crying after visiting Wesley. He usually
just sat in the hotel and sobbed until he was dry, sometimes it
was in one of the numerous corridors, a few times he had sat in
the middle of the lobby, forcing everyone to walk around him.
The whole ordeal of losing his ex-lover and his best friends as
well as witnessing the mutilation of his present lover had hit
him hard. The ever-present guilt was overwhelming at times,
leading to the tears. Joyce thought that they were all lucky
the vampire hadn't walked into the sun as of yet. What had
really tipped the older male into his pit of misery was when his
lover Wesley had moved out of their shared bedroom once he had
been released from hospital. The slight possibility of Wesley
coming back to the relationship was what was holding the vampire
back from committing suicide.

Wesley had gone from being the kind, shy and gentle man they all
knew and into an abusive vile tempered man. Everyone was at a
loss at how to deal with him. He hid himself away most of the
time, refusing to eat with the others and locking himself in his
room for day's on end. Angel had been forced to smash down the
door to his room on no less than four occasions after pleading
with him to come out hadn't worked. Whenever he did come down
to the hotel's lobby, he sneered and threw things at anyone who
tried to engage him in conversation, rude hand gestures at every
opportunity. Angel had started to take high protein hospital
drinks to the man in the hopes that if he didn't eat, at least
he would get some of his essential vitamins and minerals by
consuming the beverage. Unfortunately, Wesley continued to take
the drink, swallow a few sips and then throw the remainder over
a vampire who was just about at breaking point. The glass
smashing into the wall as soon as Angel left his spartan
quarters. Something that was happening on a daily basis.

Angel rinsed the rag at the sink and finished wiping off the
liquid Ensure. He knew that Joyce was right but he just didn't
know what to do. The vampire was desperately in love with
Wesley
and wanted to protect him from the world that had hurt him so
badly, but he was frightened for Wes' state of mind. On one of
the few times he had tried to manhandle Wes into eating, Angel
had almost lost a finger after the ex-watcher had bitten him,
latching on and grinding his back teeth as hard as possible.
Wes had only let go after Angel had sunk to the ground in tears,
the thin man spitting the vampire's blood back at him. It had
taken a few weeks for the finger to heal back to normal, the
bone had been cracked and chipped, the tendons severed.

Shaking the memory out of his foremost thoughts, the brunette
vampire grimaced as he heard Riley rifling through the liquor
cabinet. It was always Riley. The ex-soldier wasn't even
drinking the alcohol he poured, just filling a glass full of
scotch and staring at it until he either poured it back into the
bottle or Graham did it for him. It was the blonde's way of
coping with his loss. Joyce had been almost inconsolable after
finding out that Riley had planned to propose to Buffy after
Cordelia and Doyle's wedding. The revelation had brought the
two
closer together in an almost mother/son bond, the two leaning on
each other.

Cloth thrown back into the sink, Angel jumped as he heard the
sounds of breaking furniture coming from Wes' quarters. He
didn't even want to know what the formally timid man was
destroying now. All the most valuable things had been locked
down in the boiler room, along with every book on spell casting
that Joyce and the two ex-soldiers had been able to rescue after
Wes had started ripping into them. Angel had had to restrain
the smaller man, cringing at the furious grunts that his lover
had been making. Only Angel had the key to the boiler room now.

Reaching up into one of the highest cupboards above the double
fridge, Angel grappled until his fingers found the odd shaped
tin he was after. After checking that no-one was around,
listening for nearby heartbeats, the vampire opened the tin of
chocolate flavoured milk colouring. Another check that no-one
was around, he gently tipped the tin up so that the fine powder
slowly revealed a few foil wrapped bundles. Grabbing one out,
Angel quickly unwrapped it and picked out two of the grainy grey
and white tablets. Popping the pills in his mouth, the vampire
chewed down on the acrid large round circles as he managed to
put the tin back in the cupboard without gagging. He had a
headache and the tablets helped. The brunette chose to ignore
the fact that they were horse tranquillisers. He knew that he
shouldn't be taking them but he felt so relaxed and calm after
one or two of them. It was the only time that he felt
untouched by the worries of the world. He knew that no one else
would understand, that was why he hid them away.

Graham and Riley looked up at the vampire striding through the
lobby and up the main stairs. They just nodded when Angel said
that he was going to bed. Both men noting the vampires overly
shiny eyes. Graham hoped that they would be able to wake the
brunette if they got a phone call. On a few occasions, both men
had had to shake the vampire awake, slapping him hard eventually
throwing water over him until he was fully awake. Neither he or
Riley knew if it was some weird type of hibernation thing
vampires did in times of stress or something more. Graham
wanted to ask someone but with Giles dead and Wesley so
aggressive and unco-operative, they had no-one to ask and they
didn't want to upset Angel more than was possible. Riley had
even gone through some of the ex-watchers books to find out but
neither of them had really understood what was written in the
texts. Both men were slightly embarrassed to admit that even
the English based ones were well beyond them. Angel had been
slipping into more frequent intense sleeps over the past few
months, Graham just starting to pinpoint whenever the vampire
was going to go into one by the brunette's eyes gleaming
unusually.

The former second in command, shuffled the cards once more
before dealing them out to both himself and the blonde opposite
him. Canasta, a card game that Joyce had taught them one day
while she tried to go a few hours without crying. It had worked
too, she hadn't started crying for four hours. Graham was still
coming to terms with the murders and kidnappings himself. Out
of them all, he knew that he was the least affected. He hadn't
really been friends with any of them apart from Buffy, the
Initiative soldier was a loner by choice outside working hours.
The native Californian had to admit that he had liked everyone
that had been killed and taken by the soldiers, but he
acknowledged that it was the fact he hadn't been good friends
with them that was giving him the advantage at the moment. He
had never really been one for making friends, Riley had
persisted until he had found out it was easier to just go along
with the tall blonde than it was to come up with numerous
excuses
for being alone.

The things that were stressing him out the most though was the
bad dreams of seeing Wesley's tongue getting cut out and the
fact that the re-attachment of his finger had been unsuccessful.
Actually that was untrue, the re-attachement of his finger along
with Riley's had been successful. It was the whole process of
discharging from hospital early and then constantly banging and
smacking the protective bandages while moving to L.A. that had
caused more damage. Eventually both fingers had been rejected
by their natural bodies, leading to them being amputated once
again. This time under sedation. One small mercy that Graham
was
thankful for. The person he really felt sorry for the most
besides Riley, was Joyce. He had acquired a soft spot for the
older woman since they had all been ordered to L.A. The woman
had lost her only child, someone that fate had marked for a
short enough life anyway. She had also been introduced into the
world of murder, bloodshed and kidnappings.

Graham found himself often trying to get a laugh out of her by
telling her some little joke he had heard around during his time
at boot camp. Admittedly they were pretty crude at times but he
was thankful for each little staged gasp of horror at the foul
language. He admired the way she was holding up with the
demands on her. She had sold her art gallery and her house in
Sunnydale after finding out she was to accompany the men back to
the Hyperion. Why she had been included in the equation was
something that was still puzzling them all. No-one knew what
Wes' opinion on the matter was, he refused to communicate with
anyone except through obscene hand gestures, and after being
spat
on a few times Graham was more than happy to leave him alone.
He really didn't know how Angel was coping with it all. Neither
he or Riley were attempting to entertain the idea that the
situation might drive Angel back into Angelus again.

Cards dealt, Graham knew what was really stressing everybody out
was the fact that Cordelia, Doyle, Willow, Spike, Xander and the
twins had just vanished into thin air. Things were now no
longer about only the former prostitutes but other people as
well. Originally, they had all hoped that the women and
children would be delivered back to them or at least dropped off
somewhere for Angel to pick up, but so far nothing had been
heard of them since.

The main theories were that Willow and Cordelia might end up as
demon consorts due to the fact that they, like Xander, had been
born in Sunnydale and were well aware of demons. Xander was
probably well underway into working his second tenure as a
prostitute, something that made them all sick at the thought of.
Angel had thrown around an idea of Doyle being valued for his
Seeing abilities and his link to the PTB but since the visions
had only helped the brunette vampire in his work for the PTB,
they couldn't see how Doyle would be a value for someone else.
Spike had been a puzzle as well, especially as he had been
separated from Xander, until they had discovered just why he had
been taken.

Angel had indicated that the blonde vampire would be taking the
enforced separation very hard, that was if the chip hadn't
totally fried his brain after attacking the imposed threat to
Xander. For the first time since the chip had been implanted,
Graham and Riley had regretted not doing something to remove it.
They both knew that if the chip had been removed, things would
have gone a lot differently and could have even helped prevent
Anya and Gunn's deaths. Everyone was hoping the twins hadn't
ended up as a demon entree or in some sick kiddie porn ring.

Graham snapped out of his contemplation as he heard the phone
ring, Joyce answering it with a barely chirpy 'Hello, Angel
Investigations. We help the helpless'. Ironic that there was
no one to help them now when they all needed it. He listened as
Joyce took down the details being relayed to her over the phone
by their mysterious employer. No one knew who it was but after
a show of power, they no longer resisted doing what was demanded
of them.

Angel had refused point blank at first to do what the caller was
asking him to do and the phone hadn't rung for a week
afterwards. The ex-soldiers had been scouring the streets and
numerous demon bars for any information on demon clientele based
brothels, pretending to ask on Angel's behalf. They had figured
if they managed to find Xander again, they would be well on
their way to finding the others. Joyce had kept busy by cooking
for them all and obsessively cleaning the hotel from the top
floor downwards. Angel had also been trying to keep the
business afloat as well as cope with a body snatched Wesley.

The phone had rung again and once again Angel had refused the
demands, screaming abuse down the phone and hanging up. A few
minutes later, five slim boxes, beautifully gift wrapped, had
appeared out of thin air on the lobby desk, startling everybody.
Angel had hesitantly opened one, only to let it drop from his
hands and onto the floor. They had been aghast to find that
each box contained a slim white digit. Four fingers and one
thumb.

The brunette vampire had burst into tears in public for the
first time since the murders at the Magic Box, scaring everyone
intensely. After being asked why he was so upset, he had
remained silent for a few minutes before telling everybody in a
soft voice that they were Spike's fingers and from the smell of
them, they were only minutes fresh. Angel had answered the
phone on the first ring and had agreed to the demands without
hesitation. That had been almost two and a half months ago and
they had complied with each phone call since. They all
understood what would happen if they didn't.

"Riley, looks like its action time. You want help with waking
Angel?"

Seeing his friend's shake of the head, Graham looked at the
address of where they were to go this time. Great, right into
the heart of demon China town. Angel was definitely needed, he
was the only one who spoke a few Chinese dialects and the local
demons wouldn't deal with anyone who didn't speak to them in
their own language. This was where Wesley was sorely missed. A
huge crashing sound from Wes' room and Graham just wanted to get
the job over and done with.

Part Two


Xander/Scott

Around four months after the Magic Box
=========================================

Lick and suck.

Nibble and a swirl of the tongue.

Roll the creatures ball sac in one hand while lightly stroking
the inner thighs with the other.

Easy enough to do. Provided the client actually has balls.
Nothing suprises Scott anymore. Not even when a client is
classed as male even though it has no testicles. Still flooded
him with enough cum to fill an olympic swimming pool. He had
been horrified at first to find that there was a trend among
demons. The smaller they were, the more cum they shot down his
throat or up his arse.

Moan and pant.

Thrust backwards or forwards depending on the position.

Enjoy the feeling of a cock slamming into his prostate providing
he wasn't bleeding too much or almost passed out from whatever
injuries had been inflicted on him in the name of foreplay. Let
the client thrust as many fingers/tenticles/sheathed claws as it
can up his back passage until it's almost classed as fisting.
Still an action that's on the No-No List. Doesn't stop them
from trying to push the envelope at every opportunity though.

Thank the client for the new tears in his delicate anus lining.

Smile as Randall gives him a new book for being so good.

Keep his mind focused on what the client is demanding as he
thrusts into Todd, one of the others or heaven forbid,
Christopher. Writhe on the floor or bed as if getting beaten
with the wide leather belt is his biggest wet dream. Turn his
groans of agony into passable whimpers of delight as his limbs
are borderline wrenched from their sockets while being fastened
to one of the numerous iron rings in the cellar below.

Just accept that his afterhours sleeping cubicle has padded
walls and that some early evenings his head aches as he wakes
up.

Stop asking for a nightlight as he should know that he won't be
getting one and to keep asking will only result in a private
meeting with Adam.

Try not to scream each morning when the light goes off in the
sleeping dormitory, enveloping him in total darkness. Muffle
the ones that do escape his chattering teeth just in case one of
the Keepers hears him and someone is randomly picked for
punishment because he broke one of the rules.

Tell each client that they are his favourite ones.

Only throw up when infront of the tiolet and if he doesn't make
it, clean up as fast as possible.

Ignore the times when his body is too battered and bruised for
him to move in the way the client has specifically ordered.
Likewise, accept the fact that sometimes, he will find it hard
to get into a comfortable position in bed once off duty due to
that nights injuries.

Don't cry.

Remember, just because someone came for him once, doesn't mean
they are going to come again.

So, stop praying. Better to save his breathe for when he really
needs it. Let the Keepers bend him over in a dark corner when
they want because it's not worth telling Randall and Adam, he
will only find his water has an odd taste and he's thirstier for
the next day than he has ever been. Accept that although they
are not meant to, they will fuck him.

Cleanliness is next to Randall.

Adam never turns a blind eye and he will always remember
everything.

Yes, it is quite possible that he is going mad. If it feels
good, embrace it. Remember a happy client is less likely to
twist his nuts until they turn black and blue. If he bends in a
particular way, a punch to the kidneys wont result in him peeing
blood. Eat what he is given for each meal straight away even if
he hates it, and then he won't find himself scooping it from the
floor. The dirt tastes horrible as does the floorboard wax.

Remeber to ask for a drink of water, not just help himself.

Take heed of the Keepers. Until Adam or Randall open the club
each night, the Keepers rule all. Their whim is his wish.

Stop worrying that one day his cock will be ripped off by a
demon who is inexperienced with humans. Be proud that he is
popular with the regulars at the bar. Be flattered that some
demons specifically request him and will only accept him, even
if another whore is glamoured into his image.

Do try and remember to let go of the demons who show him a
little kindness. If they wanted to keep him, they would offer to
buy him.

Be lucky that he has permission to talk even if not spoken to
first. Apparantly his humour is valued as a conversation topic.

Get over his revulsion to having sex with Christopher. If the
others can do it, then there is no reason why he should have a
problem with it. If the boy/man is having fears over an
encounter with a demon, then fix it and fast. If Christopher is
refusing to co-operate, it's Scotts fault. Christopher is a man
not a child, stop the protests and just accept it.

Most of all,

Smile.

Part Three

December 2, 2004

5.23 pm

Joyce was uncomfortable. She felt like she wasn't alone in the
hotel. It was creepy. Normally she didn't have a problem being
alone on one of the unoccupied floors. But today, something
just wasn't quite right. Shivering, she felt a chill race down
her spine, maybe Wesley was wandering around the hotel?

With a shake of her head, she knew that it was highly unlikely.
The young man rarely ventured out of the two rooms he had
claimed for himself after moving out of Angels bedroom. He was
well on his way to being classed as an anorexic recluse. The
mans boyfriend was down at the hospital's out patient clinic at
this very moment in an effort to get Wesley some help. Riley had
caught the ex-watcher wandering around the first floor by chance
and had been horrified to see how much the other man had let
himself slip after locking himself away for a few days. Joyce
hadn't seen Wes for herself but she too had been aghast to learn
that Angel had made an appointment to see someone who dealt with
eating disorders after witnessing Wesley's condition himself.
Apparantly Angel was worried that his lover may end up having to
be hospitalised. A noise behind her snapped her back to the
present.

"Riley, Graham? Are you there?"

"Heellooo?"

A moments pause, another shake of the head and Joyce gathered up
her bucket of cleaning products. Tiolet duck replaced in the
cupboard underneath the bathroom sink, the older woman suddenly
gasped as she felt someone walk over her grave. Chastising
herself, she reasoned that she was too old to give herself the
willies about being alone in the hotel. Nevertheless, she took
a look at her handiwork. Graham's bathroom looked nice and
clean. Not that it hadn't been before hand. Both ex-soldiers
were exceptionally clean and really didn't need Joyce to clean
their bathrooms but they had relented when they had seen that it
helped Joyce keep occupied.

"Look, is that you Wesley? If you would like to have a cup of
coffee or tea, I would welcome the break as well?"

Her head whirled around to look behind her as she heard a door
slamming only a few rooms down the corridor. Might be Riley back
already. Maybe he would like a coffee? While Angel was at the
hospital, Riley was out doing the grocery shopping for the next
week. Where Graham was, Joyce wasn't too sure, probably at the
nearby gym. Actually, it was a little early for the tall blond
to be back. There had been a huge list to get, Riley and Graham
both ate like draft horses.

"Aahhhh!"

At the giggle behind her, Joyce dropped the bucket and ran from
the room, into the corridor. Her heart beating a military
tattoo, she was immediatley on edge when she could see no-one
else in Graham's room. She had heard someone behind her, she
wasn't going crazy. Taking a deep breathe, Joyce slowly let a
moan escape. Ok, she was now officially a little scared.

All the doors to the hotels rooms in this corridor were closed
and when she had gone into clean her friends room, all doors had
been open. On shaky legs, she walked as fast as possible to the
main stairs. She didn't care about the cleaning products,
Graham would bring them down later. All that mattered now was
getting somewhere else, her whole body was tingling and it felt
like someone or something was stroking the back of her neck.

"Hello Mummy!"

Oh my god! Joyce froze just as she put her foot down on the
first step to the staircase. Standing as still as she could,
the older woman was torn between flinging herself down the
stairs and turning around to see what was making the rustling
noises behind her.

"Poor Mummy, her world is confused"

"W.who are you?"

Uttering a small scream as she felt cool hands slide onto her
shoulders, she screwed her eyes shut. Not wanting to see who
was behind her, Joyce kept squeaking as she was turned around.

"I've come to talk with you and Daddy and the nasty Slayers boy
and the one who grinds the bread. The other one doesn't want to
talk with me. He doesn't want to have tea with anyone. Poor
boy, Daddy's so sad. He needs lots of cake"

Heart beating almost out of control, Joyce knew full well who
had her in a firm cool grip. It could only be one person, well
vampire actually. Drusilla. The very vampire Spike had
worshipped for so long. A well known insane and dangerous
vampire. Joyce wasn't ashamed to admit that was just about to
piss herself. What she did next, shocked herself to her very
core. Eyes snapped open, she looked straight into the beautiful
pale face and poked Drusilla hard in the chest with a pointed
finger.

"My daughter was *not* nasty. As far as you should be
concerned, she was a worthy opponent and should be respected as
such"

A second later, Joyce covered her mouth and wondered if she
screamed, would Wesley even come to see why? She couldn't
believe that she had just done such a stupid thing. Stupid but
no-one had the right to talk about Buffy that way. Of course
what she had just done could very be the last stupid thing she
ever did. She had heard more than enough stories about Drusilla
to know that the vampire was unpredictable and that even her
Sire Angel was barely able to keep up with her. During one of
Spikes more lucid but drunken ramblings over a hot chocolate,
she had ventured to ask more about vampire relations and had
been throughly confused about them but she did know that Angel
had made both Drusilla and Spike as well as one other.

"The Prince is happy but the beans are tasty. The tree is
without its leaves and is all alone, eternal winter is
abounding"

"What?"

"The red, white and blue is no longer a colour green and earths
clumps of clay are with their mother. Do you have cake for Miss
Edith and my friends?"

Speechless, Joyce had no idea of what had just been said but she
nodded at the vampire who was now in the middle of the corridor.
Drusilla had wandered off after her last confusing sentence and
was currently spinning around with arms out stretched as fast as
she could. Spike had told her one time that the trick to
handling Drusilla was to just treat everything like either a
game or a tea party. The idea of the continually rude bleached
blond sitting down to Earl Grey while pretending to have a tea
party made her giggle a little.

"Careful, you'll hurt yourself!"

Unable to help herself, the older human rushed to help Drusilla
as she was finally dizzy enough to tumble to the floor.
Catching the vampire just as she hit the red carpet, Joyce hoped
that her action wouldn't tempt Drusilla to bite.

"Mummy! You saved me from the flowing river. Pretty like like
the Chosen Ones hair"

With one arm wrapped around the vampires waist, she suspected
that whatever Drusilla had said was meant as a compliment to
Buffy and probably the only one Joyce would ever hear. Once the
dark haired woman was steady again on her feet, the human woman
hesitated for only a moment before leading the vampire down the
main stairs. What was the harm in taking her to the kitchen for
a cup of tea? If Drusilla was going to kill her, she would be
able to do it in a few seconds anyway. They might as well have
a coffee or tea until that happened.

"Drusilla, why are you calling me Mummy?"

"The stars went away and for a long time I was sad. The birds
all flew away and the earth was shrivelled up"

"Right"

She was confused. No wonder Angels jaw clenched whenever her
name was mentioned. Actually that wasn't fair, his jaw clenched
at Spikes name as well. There was only one thing to do, call
everybody back to the hotel.

Part Four



December 2, 2004

7.13 pm

"And then the stars shifted so that they wouldn't speak to me
anymore. Whispers, whispers...all gone! The saucer of milk was
covered by sorrow and wept until little pearls of scarlet flowed
like the river."

"Would Miss Edith like another scone? A bit more jam or cream?"

"Meow!"

Exchanging a glance, Riley and Graham knew that words just
couldn't describe what was happening. Here they were, sitting
at the kitchen table eating scones and jam with an insane
vampire. One that was on all fours, licking cream out of a
saucer on the floor. Oddly enough it wasn't the strangest thing
they had ever seen. Riley settled back into his seat as he
watched Joyce try and get Drusilla up off the floor and to sit
at the table again.

"Um, how about you sit at the table? I'm sure Angel won't be
too long."

"Daddy? He doesn't like cats. My Spike did, he always let me
play. Daddy didn't. Cats are pretty, am I pretty? I was
Spikes Princess."

With that, she got up and crossed over to stand in front of one
of the two men who were obediently eating the numerous scones.
Graham couldn't stop himself from shrinking away from the pale
creature in front of him. He had faced so many scarier looking
beasts. Ones with multiple arms, fangs where he was sure it was
anatomically incorrect. Even ones that paralysed its prey
before
slowly dissolving the captured food with urine, then eating it.
Sure, everyone in his unit, including Riley, had thrown up at
That, but they had still gone out and faced it down. But this,
this woman was seriously freaking him out. At the vampire's
question, he had arched an eyebrow at Joyce before realising
that Drusilla wanted an answer. From him.

"Ahhh...um. Yes?"

"I'm not to be yours. Another has already been chosen for you."

Barely able to suppress a shudder when his arm was lightly
touched by cool fingers, the ex-soldier just had to ask the most
appropriate question.

"What? Who?"

At the spluttered question, the dark haired vampire grew
excited, clapping her hands and exclaiming that the man who put
the 'ouchy' into Spike was really clever. Not surprisingly,
everyone doubled their efforts into wishing Angel home as soon
as possible. Graham's blonde friend snickered at the look of
complete confusion that was firmly plastered on the burly
ex-soldiers face. The snicker was quickly suppressed as he was
growled at, two fingers jabbed towards him at eye level. In an
instant, one of the stakes that had been lying next to the jar
of jam was being held firmly in Riley's grip. The ex-soldier
waved the sharpened wood suggestively at a vampire giving him a
coy look.

"Miss Edith! She says you don't deserve any of the apples that
pine for the sun...ohhhhh..Spike!"

Sinking to the ground, head held, Drusilla started to moan and
wail. Riley and Graham were sitting at the table, unsure of
what to do. Taking pity on the obviously distressed female,
Joyce ventured from her chair only to stop in her tracks as all
the noise suddenly stopped. The vampire was quiet, her face
covered by her hands. Slowly, as the human woman took a
tentative step forward, Drusilla removed her hands from her
face.
For the first time that night, all three humans could see that
she was looking somewhat sane.

"He's hurting my Spike. I can hear him screaming for someone to
help him. He prefers the white rooms. Little pieces of him are
saying goodbye. Pain. His head hurts but he likes it. Shhhh,
don't worry Spikey. Daddy and the one who doesn't like cake
will find you."

"Drusilla, where is Spike? Is he still ah,..alive?"

"Cutting, cutting. Slicing and sharp things. So slowly the
pieces are bright and shiny again. Silver gleaming under the
sun. Hurting and crying like a kitten. Spikey doesn't cry, he
never cries. Daddy cries because he is so sad but Spike is in
pain and alone until the man comes again."

Horrified at what was being said, Riley and Graham shuddered as
one at the thought of what would get the obnoxious blonde
vampire
to cry. Drusilla was right, Spike was as tough as it got. The
only one tougher was Angel. It was looking like even vampires
had their breaking points, something both soldiers had thought
impossible when working in the Initiative.

"Daddy!"

"Dru?"

Standing in the doorway to the kitchen, Angel had been able to
sense his second Childe in the building as soon as he had pulled
into the car park. He had been worried about just how much
chaos his nutty girl had caused once she had seen he wasn't at
home. The older vampire had run inside as fast as possible,
heading straight to the kitchen from where her scent was the
strongest. What he had found was beyond description.

Joyce was kneeling on the floor next to Drusilla, arm around the
pale shoulders. His Childe just leaning into the other woman,
humming a tune that only she knew. Riley and Graham were
sitting opposite each other at the table, a plate of half
finished scones in front of each one. Both with expressions of
utter confusion. Just a normal Drusilla tea party.

"Drusilla, you bite anyone under my protection and you're ash.
Not dust, ash because I'm going to fucking well set you on fire
if you so much as give a hint of biting."

"But Angel...Daddy."

"Angel, she knows Spike is in pain and I'm pretty sure she
gabbled something regarding the others earlier on this evening."

Just able to keep his feet as the light headedness struck, Angel
stared at Joyce. Of course, if anyone would know where Spike and
the others were, it would be his Childe. Just where the hell
had she been four months ago when the shit had first hit the
fan?

"Has she been talking about the stars and what they tell her at
all?"

Hope rose for the first time for Angel in what had been weeks.
If it was possible to decipher just what his Drusilla had been
waffling about, then they might be able to get a lead on one of
the missing friends. Unfortunately, Spike was the only one who
could really understand what she was on about. He could usually
tell the difference between random ramblings and future
predictions, something that was really needed at the moment.
With one eye on Drusilla, he told everyone to be quiet and to
stay where they were.

"Dru, where is Spike?"

"Oh Daddy! Don't worry, the song of London Bridge will surround
you again."

Jaw clenched, Angel knew he was just about to snap. He had
never understood a quarter of what Drusilla ever prattled about
and from the identical looks of bewilderment on the three humans
sitting at the kitchen table, he knew that he wasn't alone.
Ignoring the vampire for a moment, he asked Joyce to write down
all she could remember of what Drusilla had said so far. Joyce
nodded, silently berating herself for not thinking of it sooner.
Spike had told the human that most of the trouble he had gotten
into was from not taking his lovers words seriously. Apparently
after being almost staked and burnt a few times, he had learned
to take more notice of whatever Drusilla was saying.

"Sooo. What have the stars been saying? Is the moon still
smiling?"

Twirling around the kitchen a few times, the pale woman paused
to hiss at Riley, blow a kiss to Graham and then call Joyce
'mummy' again. Temple rubbed with a large hand, Angel could
almost count the seconds until he would be forced to vamp out at
his odd Childe in order to get her to concentrate as much as she
was able to.

"Why are you calling Joyce Mummy?"

"Because you're my Daddy and she lives with you."

"The stars went away, drops of pearls filled with cinnamon fell
from the sky. They wouldn't talk to me for so long, I cried but
then the pretty ones came. All shiny like the sun but filled
with the moon."

"Ah!"

Silence descended upon the kitchen. Little sounds of annoyance
were heard as Joyce continually huffed and puffed as she tried
to remember the exact words that Drusilla had spoken. The pale
woman came to sudden halt, her spinning stopping and looked
directly over Riley's shoulder, a shy smile on her face.

"Angel, my friends are here."

"What, Where....Who?"

Four heads arched around the brightly lit room in all
directions, each coming to the same conclusion. No one else was
there bar them. With a shrug, both Riley and Graham shot
confused looks at the older vampire. The ex-soldiers tensed as
the insane vampiress came and sat beside Graham at the kitchen
table, Angel giving his Childe a warning growl as she ran a
finger down the smaller soldiers neck. Managing not to flinch
too much, Graham stayed where he was, taking the same
precautions one would when around a large wild feline. Don't
make eye contact and no sudden movements. He had heard some
horrific stories about the woman's hobby in poking out her
victims eyes with her fingernails and he really didn't want to
give her any reason to even associate the hobby with him.
Unfortunately, she had already poked at Riley twice that night
and from the look on Riley's face, he had heard the same
stories.

"Mummy, the sound will flow through you. London Bridge will be
heard again. Legacy of the Tower will ring true and be forged by
two. The green from the Isle of Erin was lost and will never
again appear nor the red of the blue. The Sight was saved but
is lost in the fields of memory. The twins of darkness are to
reside in the halls of the ones who seek."

Eyes closed and hands fluttering, the dark haired woman started
to pant as she concentrated relaying what was being whispered in
her ear by one of her friends. She could sense the growing
annoyance of her Sire and desperately wished her Spike was there
to reassure her and hold her until she had said all that was
required.

"The star that is yet to be born is a mummy, the twins of
darkness with her. Water surrounds them, ice flowing into the
winter sea. The lonely tree is soon to be happy, love
surrounding her after the endless winter, her leaves of red
flowing like a river. Meow. Daddy? The man who isn't will
wander the pretty river again, joy radiating from him for all
eternity."

A thin trickle of blood made its way down the pretty chin from
the delicate nose. With a growl, she warned her Sire from
interrupting her.

"The one with no voice will speak of mighty things to come, his
voice shall echo through these hallways soon. The Millers son
shall be companion to the advocate until they both wither with
love, her champion. A golden man once entangled with fates
Chosen will offer sanctuary to all who are in need, refuge from
all dimensions apart from this earth's planes. His heart needed
to be broken so that compassion would temper the desire to only
see two colours, a path already started but yet to be finished."

Angel couldn't help but fang out at the sight of his second
Childe bleeding. This was a huge effort for the woman and he
was astounded by the words. Drusilla was telling the fates for
everyone that had been at the Magic Box, it was so important
that he did believe that Drusilla was being helped by her
'friends'. There was no way she could predict so many things in
such a short time, she was talented with future predictions but
this was beyond her talents; she had to be having outside help
in keeping focused. He just hoped that it wouldn't stress her
out too much, it would be hell trying to keep her in control for
the time she would need to recover from the visions.

"The prince will be comforted and protected for all time by one
who has fallen from the mighty but shall receive his redemption
through these actions, the Twilight ruling all and keeping the
prince from any other harm. The soul of blood will return,
bringing chaos and ruin to all it touches. This cannot be
allowed to happen. The sight and voice will find the path to
deny the wolf. The echoes of ones mind is where the prince can
be
found, just follow the whispering corridors. The displaced ones
will be taken by the brothers of Christ, into the arms of
protection. Fear not, harm will not come to them again if they
go by choice."

Joyce was writing furiously, now knowing just why both Angel and
Spike had been fascinated by this woman. She just hoped that
she was getting everything down correctly, just one misplaced
word had the potential to stuff everything up. A glance at both
Riley and Graham and she was relieved to see that they also were
writing the vampire's words down, both having gotten extra pens
from on top of the fridge as soon as the words had started to
make a little sense.

The vampiress' quiet panting was all that could be heard.
Making a move, Angel stepped towards his exhausted Childe. Sure
that she had finished all she had to say. Two steps forward, he
was thrown backwards as a flare of heat flowed from her body.
Riley and Graham scrambled as fast as they could from the
intense heat, Joyce following them into the corner by the
fridge, all three trying to shelter behind a stunned Angel. In
awe, they watched her stand, her whole being glowing with a
silvery golden light.

"This is your war Angel."

"W...what?"

"The final battle for your redemption. Do not fail, you will
not get a second chance and hell will be taking you back. Soul
and all. Your legacy shall be bred from the missing. Fail in
your mission and there shall be none to replace you should you
fall. Many will be denied their full achievements should that
occur. The fate of millions rest on the outcome to this war.
Do you understand?"

"Yes."

"Do not mourn the passing of this one. She has achieved her
redemption for acting as our vessel. Do not feel guilty for
creating her in your image, she was pre-destined since before
time for the sole purpose of letting us speak to you once again.
The one you hate so much was also pre-destined to be born as
soulless. Be warned, if he should regain his soul, Angelus will
be insignificant to what will occur if he should be loosened
upon the world."

Angel stared up at the gentle expression on Drusilla's face, the
kitchen bathed in gentle glowing gold. If he didn't know
better, he would think she was one of the saints he had read
about while a human. She was beautiful and serene, the very
presence of calm surrounding her. The intense heat rolling off
her was the only give away that it wasn't God speaking through
her.

"Who are you?"

"We are the Oracles. Good luck Angelus, we wish you well. The
fate of the world rests upon your shoulders. Try not to let it
crush you."

The heat radiating off the dark haired woman grew in intensity
until the others could see the richly embroidered clothing
starting to smoulder, as one, they started towards the heated
vampire with the intention of cooling her down. A deafening
bang and a painful wave heat rolled through the kitchen, all
screaming at the intensity and shielding their eyes from the
glare coming off the insane vampire. Seconds later, the kitchen
was cooling down as the painful light subsided.

All were speechless as they stared at the pile of ashes spread
over the kitchen floor, roughly where Drusilla had been
standing.


"This is your war Angel."

"W...what?"

"The final battle for your redemption. Do not fail, you will
not get a second chance and hell will be taking you back. Soul
and all. Your legacy shall be bred from the missing. Fail in
your mission and there shall be none to replace you should you
fall. Many will be denied their full achievements should that
occur. The fate of millions rest on the outcome to this war.
Do you understand?"

"Yes."

"Do not mourn the passing of this one. She has achieved her
redemption for acting as our vessel. Do not feel guilty for
creating her in your image, she was pre-destined since before
time for the sole purpose of letting us speak to you once again.
The one you hate so much was also pre-destined to be born as
soulless. Be warned, if he should regain his soul, Angelus will
be insignificant to what will occur if he should be loosened
upon the world."

Angel stared up at the gentle expression on Drusilla's face, the
kitchen bathed in gentle glowing gold. If he didn't know
better, he would think she was one of the saints he had read
about while a human. She was beautiful and serene, the very
presence of calm surrounding her. The intense heat rolling off
her was the only give away that it wasn't God speaking through
her.

"Who are you?"

"We are the Oracles. Good luck Angelus, we wish you well. The
fate of the world rests upon your shoulders. Try not to let it
crush you."

The heat radiating off the dark haired woman grew in intensity
until the others could see the richly embroidered clothing
starting to smoulder, as one, they started towards the heated
vampire with the intention of cooling her down. A deafening
bang and a painful wave heat rolled through the kitchen, all
screaming at the intensity and shielding their eyes from the
glare coming off the insane vampire. Seconds later, the kitchen
was cooling down as the painful light subsided.

All were speechless as they stared at the pile of ashes spread
over the kitchen floor, roughly where Drusilla had been
standing.


Part Five



Sniff...

SNIFF...

Breathe out.

Sniff....

Breathe out.

Bide his time until he has company again.

No need to breathe, he's technically dead.

Bored but he's thankful for that small emotion, so much more
different from the usual silver smoothness of the scalpel.

Thin fine needles of pain prick at every nerve in his body as he
shifts on the cool table. The restraints holding him spread
eagled on his back are so familiar to him now, he would miss
them if they were gone.

Sniff...

Breathe out.

Sniff...

Breathe out.

His left hand itches, the stumps where his fingers used to be
reminding him how lucky he was that only his slim digits were
cut off that time. He's heard about this, the sensation of
missing limbs still making themselves known. Phantom limbs.
Occasionally he can feel his fingers ghosting over the edge of
the metal table.

Sniff...

Breathe out.

He knows rationally that his fingers are gone and although with
his vampire healing, that they will eventually grow back, he
hopes that they are gone for good. If they don't grow back,
then they won't get cut off again but if they don't, The Man
will cut something else off. Damned if they do, damned if they
don't.

Sniff...

Breathe out.

The fact that they are growing back so slowly isn't really the
issue. How long has passed since he woke up here? In the white
room, surrounded by bright gleaming trolleys holding sharp
things he can't see until The Man holds them up.

Sniff...

Breathe out.

Never in his whole unlife has he ever thought of the Initiative
as merciful until now. He thanks them with his whole being that
they put the chip into his head, its not so cursed after all.
Angling his head just so, he can see the steady drip of red
flowing into the slim tube inserted in the crook of his right
elbow.

Sniff...

Breathe out.

Human blood. A healing accelerator. The more blood, the faster
he heals. All the better for The Man for when he wants another
slice of vampire. A toe, half a thigh, a testicle. Kidney,
liver, few inches of intestines, right foot. Doesn't need them
to have an unlife.

Sniff...

Breathe out.

Where does it all go? Funny thing, vampirism. Bits that go
missing of a vamp don't dust until the vampire gets dusted.
He hadn't known that until The Man explained it to him. He's
cut plenty of things off humans and other demons but never off
a fellow vampire.

Sniff...

Breathe out.

His stomach hurts. He managed to raise his head enough to see
why once but he got scared at the sight and he hasn't looked
since. The small beams of light gleaming off the surgical
clamps imbedded over his body are annoying. Another small
thing he is thankful for, something to show himself that he
isn't so lost after all.

Sniff...

Breathe out.

Is his Sire coming for him? He wishes Buffy would walk through
the door and help him, actually, anybody.

Sniff...

Breathe out.

A footstep..another...and another.

Someone coming towards the door, just outside his room.

Sniff..sniff..

Shaky breathe out.

Please go away...don't come in, he begs silently. The continual
tears flowing faster, staining everything they touch, bright
red. Saving his words for when they are really needed, soon
now. No matter how much he cries and begs for the pain to go
away, he knows that it won't stop until The Man has gotten all
that he wants.

Sniff..sniff..sniff...

B.bre..athe o.out.

A small whine echoes around the completely sound proofed room,
the bright overhead lights throwing their golden gleam off the
smooth walls. The only darkness he has been allowed is the one
he makes himself.

Beep, bop..buzzz..ping!

The door to his room opens, the scent of rosemary and thyme
flooding into the small space, overwhelming the vampire. How
can so much pain be announced by such simple scents?

Pant, "I'm going to fucking kill you, you prick!" Pant

Eyes closed, the vampire waits for the chips input to his words,
grimacing as he rides out pain that he can now almost ignore.
Four wet sploshes announce to the vampire that something bigger
than his foot is going to come off this time, maybe even a metre
of intestine and a slice of liver? Might even be his whole
penis
this time? The more blood packets, the bigger the missing bit.

Whine..pant "Cunt, I'm gonna stick a spike up your arse and then
I'm gonna turn it round while its still up you, your gonna be
squealing like the fucker you are." groan...pant

The light touches on his abdomen tell him that indeed, he is
going to be missing an organ sometime soon. A few jerks to the
IV drip stuck in the crook of his elbow and he knows that his
blood supply has been changed and sped up. His tears flowing
non-stop. He was going to have to get on with it.

Pant...sob "I'm gonna peel the outer layers of your skin off,
dip you in fucking battery acid and piss myself laughing while
you slowly dissolve. I'm gonna give you a fucking Deepheat
enema..."

The pain in his head was increasing, any minute now...just a few
more words and he would be out like a light...just a few more,
let the chip do its magic.

Sob..sob "Ahhh...ugg..Cheese grater to your testicles....Ohhh!
Please don't...CUNT!! I'M GOING TO STICK BARBED
WIRE...AHHHH...DOWNNNNahhhhhh..."

Spike lets the pain in his head take him on a field trip, the
smell of burning flesh ignored. The tears ceasing for a few
minutes.

Darkness, so welcome.

Silence,

The freedom of no pain.

Part Six


December 5, 2004

Hyperion

3.25pm

With light touches, he gently ran his fingers down his stubbled
cheeks. The shadowed hollows of his face looked strange in the
mirror. A turn of his face and he saw the beginnings of a
patchy beard, the soft coloured hair reflecting the bright light
of the naked bulb in the bathroom.

Tongue poked out, Wesley snickered as he poked at the almost
seamless scar running the width of his shortened organ. To
reattach the tongue, the surgeons had been forced to trim off a
few millimetres of 'distressed tissue' before even starting the
surgery.

Distressed tissue.

He loved that saying. Just misprouncing it, caused anyone in
hearing distance to shudder. No matter how hard Angel tried to
reasure Wesley that he was still desirable, Wesley knew better.
He was no longer unscarred in the vampires eyes, he was now less
than perfect. Someone other than his lover had caused him
physical pain.

Mouth closed, Wesley's hands continued their journey downwards,
tracing the prominant ribs. Cut and nicked fingers contoured
over the many bruises. He was ugly, he used to be pretty. He
didn't want Angel to look at him, didn't want to see the horror
in the dark eyes each time the vampire looked at him.

"Dithtrethed tithue."

"Angthul..Wethley"

A short barked laugh rang through the white tiled room. He was
useless. He could no longer speak English properly, what use
was he now? How could he help his lover in saving the helpless?
Wesley used to be able to speak seven human languages and four
demon ones, not counting the ones he knew enough to get by with.
To count those would make it almost thirty languages, dead and
living.

Shivering, the painfully thin man slowly made his way over to
the pile of bedclothes laying in the middle of his room. Once
he had negotiated the numerous clumps of torn mattress and
bedsprings, he let himself collapse from the sheer effort of
moving. He ignored the protesting ribs that took all of his
bony weight just like he took no notice of the continual
growling of his stomach. Ignore it and it would go away, it
always did.

"Leth the Sthringths Ethernal be thut out...ahhhh."

Let the Springs Eternal be shut out. No matter how much he
tried, he just couldn't prounance the words properly. Always
that stupid scar tissue not allowing his tongue to form the
words correctly. What he wouldn't give for a stutter. A flash
of jealously flowed over him as he thought back to the vile
stutter Xander had, at least he would be able to pronounce
words. His better than average magic skills were now null and
void, the craft demanded ten perfect fingers, intricately
pronounced words and anal retentive timing. He wasn't even able
to train someone in the craft now, he was useless.

Tight smile across his features, he replayed the defining moment
of his relationship with Angel in his mind. The moment when
Angel had finally kissed him with passion after he had been
released from hospital. The moment when Wesley had timidly
opened his mouth, allowing the older vampire to slip his cooler
tongue into the humans warm mouth.

Angel had stroked the newly made scar with his tongue, only to
pull away almost instantly. Revulsion mixed with horror and
pity had fleeted across the brunettes face, an apology following
a second later, the vampire's hand absently wiping at his mouth
as if trying to rub the taste of his lover from his lips. Wesley
had felt his heart clench, the crumbled walls to his once off
limits feelings slammed back up with double reinforcment. The
brunette didn't even know what he was apologising for, so used
to saying sorry for everything. He knew when he was just
somethig to pity and he didn't want it. Not from Angel and
certainly not from anyone else.

"Hateth you Angthel."

Bedcovers pulled around his violently trembling body, Wesley
giggled into the soiled linen as he thought of the vampire
sitting at his desk, brooding as usual. He had already had his
daily visit from the brunette, complimentary drink offered as
usual. Why didn't the arsehole just leave him alone? Why did he
continue to rub Wesley's nose into the knowledge that he was no
longer desirable?

"Uthleth."

It wasn't love that drove the vampire to keep visiting the
displaced Watcher, Wesley knew that. It was the ever present
guilt. Even the whole staged show of tears after Wesley had
bitten the other man had been caused by guilt. Why wasn't Angel
being strong like he always was? What gave Angel the right to
cry?

How dare Angel think he had normal human feelings, how dare the
brunette show emotion. Angel was a vampire and he was supposed
to be strong. What gave him the right to fall to his knees
infront of Wesley and beg his forgiveness? Useless bastard was
supposed to be out there in the night wreaking revenge for all
the tragedy that happened at the Magic Box but where was he,
floating around the Hyperion. Cloaked in a cloud of guilt and
sobbing like the human he wasn't. If Angel really loved him
like he kept saying, he would be the strong one.

"Hateth you. Weakth Basthard."

A giggle and Wesley realised that Angel and he had something in
common. They were both now officially useless.

"Uthleth."

"Uthleth."

"Uthleth."


Part Seven


December 5, 2004

Somewhere

3.25pm


A strand of hair pushed back from her flushed face, Cordelia
pushed herself to keep stirring the boiling water. God, what
she wouldn't give for a washing machine but for that, she would
need electricity. Civilisation was what she really craved, that
and Doyle. She wanted out...now.

Stifling a groan at hearing one of the twins start howling in
hunger, the tired woman wondered just what type of cosmic beings
had decided upon playing this joke on her. How on earth did she
get trapped in another country with two lactose intolerant
children? She would never in her wildest dreams have thought
children could be allergic to yak's milk but apparently they
could be.

Thank god for one of the other human women that her Master
owned. As sad as it had been for Kimlai to lose her child, it
was only through the other woman allowing the twins to feed from
her left over breast milk that had kept the two girls from
starving to death. Cordelia gave a weary smile to the smaller
woman gathering up Aiesha, Gonturan still asleep thankfully.
Large pot given one last stir, the would be actress picked up
another long stick and flipped out one of the faded cloths that
passed for nappies.

Hands held over the rising steam from the wet bundle as it lay
on the drying stone, she rubbed her fingers, trying to get the
blood circulating. She was terrified that one day she would
wake up with one of her fingers frozen so much that she would
have to have it cut off, the same fears for her toes. When she
had been younger, she had loved to visit the trendiest ski
resorts each winter but after spending so much time in the
oppressive snow, she almost jumped for joy at each ray of
sunshine that appeared each day. She truly never wanted to see
snow again, however, she rose each day knowing that the first
thing she would see each day was a pure white expanse as soon as
she opened the tent flaps.

Sighing, she flipped out the remaining clothes in the large clay
pot and added the next lot. Who would have thought that her
life would take such a twist? After being ordered out of the
Magic Box, she had been bundled into a van with both twins,
accompanied by one of the black clad men. The journey had taken
hours, only stopping to allow her to change the twins and feed
them some formula. Where the nappies and formula had come from,
she hadn't asked, still fearing that one of the twins would be
killed.

She had eventually fallen asleep after the twins had been taken
by the man, the sight of one of the murderers bouncing a
gurgling girl on his knee had been unsettling not to say the
least but she had been overwhelmed with tiredness anyway,
eventually succumbing to the lure. Cordelia really didn't
know how long or how far she had travelled but once they had
stopped, she had been taken out of the van, twins in her arms
again. She had ignored the heaviness of them, instead trying to
take notice of any little things she could for future reference
for when Angel found her. Angel would find her, she knew that.

She had been stunned to find herself in the middle of nowhere,
trees surrounding her. The van had driven off, leaving her with
the one black clad man firmly holding onto her upper arm. It
was then that Cordelia had allowed the tears to flow, she had
been sure she was about to be executed along with the two little
girls. What had surprised her though was when three more vans
had pulled up alongside them. The tears had given way to fury,
the woman screaming that she wouldn't be separated from the
girls. The four men from the vans had been amused on the whole,
the two foreign looking women had been more shocked.

Standing in the quiet forest, she had been poked and prodded at
before each child had been similarly examined. Fear had crept
its way from her toes to her scalp, tingling over each nerve.
She had had a fair idea of what the examination was for and she
hadn't been wrong. Cordelia had ended up being sold to one of
the women after she had kicked the man holding her in the groin
as he had tried to pry the twins from her. The one who had
bought her had laughed, smiling at her while adding an extra
bundle of cash to the huge stack in the suited mans hand,
gesturing wildly at her.

Cordelia hadn't know the gestures were a spell. If she had, she
would have tried to run but then again, she might have ended up
with a really lousy Master and not the kind one she had. A
great ball of light had transported her and the twins
to...somewhere. Where, she really wasn't too sure. She wasn't
even sure of how much time had passed since the Magic Box
incident. The brunette had tried keep a record of the days via
scratches on a pot but after it had gotten broken, she just let
it fall by the wayside.

Seeing the steam had diminished on some of the cloths, she
ignored the heat and started to wring out the excess water from
her chosen bundle. Where she had ended up was still a mystery.
She was sure that she was still in her original dimension as she
could pick out a few words of English from the language spoken
by her Master and his family. Nepal was where she had ended up,
she was sure of that. It had to be Nepal, there were yaks and
all the other humans looked slightly Chinese. She was the only
white human female although she had seen a few other Caucasian
men in some of the other camps her Master had stopped at over
the days.

Aeisha and Gonturan were most certainly the first dark-skinned
humans her Master had seen, everyone had oooed and ahhhed over
them, the girls giggling at the attention. From what she had
gathered from Kimlai, her Master thought that Cordelia was the
twins birth mother and it was something that the brunette woman
wasn't in a hurry to clear up, unsure of how her standing in
the camp would be affected if she told the truth. She had been
horribly humiliated to gesture to the other women the lie that
her breast milk had dried up, cringing at the sympathetic
pattings from her Master's family.

So far, she had been treated fairly well and apart from the hard
manual labour that was expected of her, it really wasn't a
hardship. At night, she couldn't help but dream of Doyle,
hoping that everything was all right with her fiancée.

Bundle thoroughly squeezed, Cordelia grimaced as she thought of
how much her body had toned up with all the heavy work. She was
sure she could probably arm wrestle Doyle and win, even with his
half demon strength. A tear slipping from her eye, she hastily
wiped at it, not letting her emotions distract her from her
allotted work. A dark shadow fell over her, the brunette
jerking her head up to smile at her Master. Every day, the tall
shaggy creature visited the twins, growling his laughter as he
tickled and played with the happy girls.

Could be worse she thought, he could have raped her by now. She
could be pregnant with a half beast. He could have cooked and
eaten the twins or worse yet, eaten them while they were still
alive. Stomach churning at the thought, she put a smaller pot
on the fire to prepare a cup of the pungent tea the demon
favoured. A handful of herbs added to the cool water, she
watched as Aeisha crawled towards the demon. He looked rather
like a yeti, whatever they really looked like. All the photos
Cordelia had ever seen had been badly reproduced ones in various
school textbooks and in museums. Upon seeing who she had been
sold to, she had been doubly sure she was in Tibet or one of the
surrounding countries. If she could find a Buddhist Monk, then
she was sure she would be able to find her way to an American
Consulate. Every Monk knew who Richard Gere was, so surely they
would help out a fellow American?

Why had the demon wanted the twins? That was one of the
questions that rattled around her mind on a daily basis, she was
hoping that the demon wasn't looking to mate one of the twins
with one of its own children. The thought that they could do
worse really wasn't a comforting idea. At the sound of her
name, she turned her attention to her Master. Sitting next to
the red haired demon, she nodded and smiled as she listened
to whatever it was saying. They both knew that she couldn't
understand it but that fact didn't stop her Master trying to
have a conversation with her.

They were going to be moving camp in the morning. At least that
was what she thought they would be doing if she had translated
the grunts, growls and hand gestures correctly. With a nod, she
moved from the demons side to pour the boiling tea. Moving
wasn't new, they moved about every two weeks. She really hoped
that Wesley was working on a location spell.

Part Eight


December 6, 2004

3.36 pm

Business was not going as expected.

Teeth clenched, Randall sat at his desk. He was fuming over the
latest monthly report and what he was reading was horrifying.

Sanity was supposed to be a success. The figures were proving
him wrong. It was making nowhere near the estimated profits.
The profit at the end of each day barely paid for the overheads,
let alone his debt to Wolfram and Hart. Sanity had been open for
four months now, and even though the word was out on the street,
it wasn't proving popular with the local demons.

Randall suspected that if he didn't do something soon, he
wouldn't be on speaking terms with Wolfram and Hart for much
longer. Something to be avoided at all costs. He knew what was
wrong.

There was great bar service, drinks and an assortment of
nibblies for almost every type of demon. The music was changed
often so that there were songs and instrumental pieces to suit
everyone. His whores were working their arses off, just like
they were trained to do. The new demon whores were working out
well, they were all employed voluntarily, reducing the 'care'
costs. Unfortunately, the demon clients were not employing them
for their hired services. The demon prostitutes were basically
sitting around drinking and not really doing much else, while
his
human whores might as well not even move from their service
rooms - they were in there 90% of the time anyway.

Getting up, the bar manager walked over to his personal stash of
single malt whiskey, the disappointing figures thrown to one
side of the desktop. Pouring himself a large glass, his
forehead furrowed as he slipped once again into deep thought.

He knew what the problem was. It was one that both himself and
Lindsey failed to take into account. Demons didn't want to sit
down after a hard day with a drink - well, some did but most
didn't. They wanted to slaughter something - the more blood,
the
better. If they got one of their own bones broken in the
process of 'unwinding' after a hard day, then it was just put
down as a minor detail.

Hardly a night or day went by without some type of brawl
erupting between the various species that visited the bar. Word
was passed around by both offending parties, each 'victim'
telling their relatives and friends not to visit Sanity as their
enemy loitered there. Needless to say, whole clans of demons
suddenly stopped coming in, business slowing even more. If it
wasn't for the human whores he had reclaimed, Randall knew that
Sanity wouldn't have even lasted as long as it already had.
That,
and the fact that he had employed the demon prostitutes on a
commission basis.

The running costs had finally killed him. The extra cost of
hiring keepers/bodyguards/bouncers to protect the human whores
was ridiculous, but he wasn't about to risk another kidnap
attempt. He was tapped dry and Lindsey had already talked to
him about his mounting debt to the law firm, indicating that the
lawyer himself had also been talked to by his superiors. Sanity
was going to have to close. Randall was going to have to cut
his losses, swallow his pride and figure out how to stay in the
land of the living.

He was clever and he had an idea.

His human whores had proved to be the only saving grace in the
whole debacle. The former brothel owner had been repeatedly
approached by various demons asking if they could purchase a
certain boy, Randall feeling full of pride but saying no. Well,
he wasn't going to say no now, and as much as he was fond of his
boys, they were about to take a ride with which ever demon paid
the most for them.

He was going to approach Lindsey with his idea the next day, he
just wasn't too sure of how to pitch it to the lawyer. It
wasn't every day you decided to become a demon consort trainer.
Some of the sums of money offered for Scott, Andrew and even the
red-haired Patrick, had been astronomical. When some of the
more persistent clients had finally realised that Randall wasn't
going to give in, the Sanity manager had been asked if he would
be able to train a consort if the demon provided one. Another
offer that Randall had refused.

With a sigh, the older man knew he was going to have to
negotiate a cheaper rate for youths from the Hellmouth. There
was no way he was going to pay the usual going rate if he was
going to be buying bulk stock. He wanted a discount.

Randall wondered if he should also enquire about a discounted
rate for youths not from Sunnydale, after all, couldn't hurt to
ask...

He had almost drowned this time, but like always, he was going
to swim.

=======================================

December 6, 2004

3.36 pm

A stumbled step forward, the lone figure wove a drunken path
through the grass. Arms held out in front of him, Doyle tried
to
steer himself straight without tripping, vainly trying to feel
an obstacle before bumping into it. Minutes later, he was
lying on his side, exhausted.

Frustrated and hungry, he swore for what was possibly the
hundredth time that hour. With his hands tearing clumps of
brittle grass from the cool ground, he let himself have a moment
of self pity. The Irishman had earned just a moment's worth and
damn it all, he was going to indulge. He had a fair idea that he
was in the country, he was bumping into trees almost constantly.
The half demon's upper body and face was covered in scratches
and welts from stumbling into bushes and falling over.

Doyle was frightened that he would die, alone and without anyone
knowing what had happened to him. He was worried about
Cordelia's fate but was certain she was already back with Angel.

His employer was looking for him right that instant. Wesley was
probably stuffing around with his spells and vile smelling
concoctions, all the better to find him with. Comforted by this
thought, the dark-haired man struggled to his feet, allowing
himself to sway for a moment before pressing forward.

Surely there must be a farmstead or house close by?

Knowing his luck, he would be set upon by a farmers rabid dog
before he even opened his mouth to ask for help if he happened
to stumble across a farm. Arms reached out again, Doyle slowly
put a foot forward, one at a time. Following the ground's
natural swellings and dips, the dark haired man continued his
journey.

The dry grass crunching under his feet, Doyle shrieked in both
fright and pain as he smacked his stiff fingers against a very
solid tree trunk. With his temper finally at the end of its
tether, the smaller man kicked forward, grunting in satisfaction
as his foot connected with the tree, screaming enough profanity
for the tree's leaves to wither in shock. Yes, it hurt his foot
but after kicking the trunk a few times, he had to admit that he
felt better. A chuckle later, Doyle realised that he didn't
even know the meaning of some of what he had screamed at an
innocent tree. The laughter died down as he sank slowly to the
ground, hoping to god that he didn't sit arse down on a rabbit
trap.

"Fuck, I just want to get home. I want to be with Cordy and me
friends, it's not too much to ask is it?"

Snorting, the half demon shook his head. He knew there was no
one around to answer him, if there was, he would more than
likely be in hospital by now. One hand fiddling with the grass
beside him, the Irishman wondered if he would ever get back to
the Hyperion and if he did, in just what state. Alive or dead?
Knees drawn up to his chest, arms resting on top, Doyle lay his
head on his forearms. He was lost and he had no idea of how to
get home again, back to his friends and fiancee. The first thing
he was going to do when he got back home was marry Cordelia. No
more stuffing around with fancy invitations and what colour for
the bridesmaid's dresses.

One less bridesmaid anyway, Buffy was dead. With a groan, Doyle
thought back to that horrible night in the Magic Box. The last
thing he had seen was Willow being thrown into a van, followed
by one of the masked gunmen. What had happened to everybody
after that, he had no idea. He had been too shocked to even put
up a fight with the black clad man in the back of the van with
him, just waiting out the hours in silence. Ultimately, he had
been transported to an unknown location and transferred into a
concrete cell that had held nothing but a few blankets, a
mattress and a pillow. The only decoration had been a metal
toilet bowl.

He had been fed twice a day for weeks, the boredom driving him
to distraction after only a few days. No-one had spoken to him
other than to tell him to stand and face the door when it was
time for his meals, all his attempts at trying to share a joke
or make conversation with one of his kidnappers had been
ignored.
He now knew why people in constant isolation usually ended up
having conversations with themselves, they weren't crazy, they
were just bored. No-one had threatened or intimidated him. He
had received a large bowl of warm water and sponge every second
day to wash himself with, new clothes had been provided after
his original garments had gotten too dirty and he had been given
new toilet rolls just as the old ones ran out. Doyle knew he
had been fairly well treated, his constant fear had been that he
would end up like Xander, used and abused.

He had ended up being abused, just not in the way he had thought
he would be. His eyes had been taken. No warning had been
given. The half demon had been held down one morning over two
weeks ago, his green eyes scooped out with an item that had
looked like a spoon. It had hurt, he had screamed until he had
passed out. He had shit himself, he wasn't ashamed to admit
that.

With a shudder, he could almost feel the cool metal sliding
in between his eye and the lower lid, resting just behind his
eye, the pain of his orb bulging out of his too small socket.
He had no idea if they had been able to get his eyes out in one
piece or not, if they had had to slice them into smaller pieces.
The Irishman had woken up thinking his head was aching from a
vision, only realising the nightmare had been real after
touching his sewn up eyelids. Amidst all his renewed
screaming, he had learnt that he had been expected to die. His
survival being put down to his half demon status.

Doyle hadn't really been game since to touch his eyes, too
afraid of the hollowness he knew he would feel. Yesterday, he
had been carried to a van and thrown in. Lying on the floor, he
had talked himself hoarse with his many questions of what was
going to happen to him, no answer given like always. The van
had stopped, doors opened and he had been shoved out. After
falling onto the hard ground, he had been terrified to realise
that he had just been left behind in what he assumed was the
middle of nowhere.

At first he had sat down and waited for the van to come back,
but
after a while he had come to the conclusion that he was on his
own and that only he could save himself. So, he had gotten up,
twirled around a few times and had set off in the direction he
had ended up pointing to. Walking into bushes, trees and falling
into large holes. He had been lucky so far in that he hadn't
seriously hurt himself and broken something. Doyle had felt the
night descend, chilling him to the bone. All fears of broken
bones and wild animal attacks had flown out of his head once he
had felt the temperature drop. He had been more worried about
freezing to death or catching a nasty virus. Ultimately he had
been glad to wake to the sun warming his face, his body enjoying
the rising temperature.

With a hand rubbed through his hair, Doyle carefully got to his
feet, resting against the solid tree trunk for a moment.
Stepping out from under the shade, the half demon continued his
journey forward.

Part Nine-Seventeen