In the board room of Wolfram and Hart a group of exhausted, harried lawyers sat around the table, nursing yet another cup of coffee, dealing with yet another crisis. Lilah Morgan had the floor and was desperately looking for some way to release it to another speaker. Her employers had a tendency to more than shoot the messenger.
"...Further to the aforementioned delays; the leader of the team of Shamen working on Lindsey's current problem, informed me the re-gestation will be hindered by the copious contamination of the relevant body parts with vampire dust. Taking it all into account, it will take approximately forty weeks to duplicate Lindsey's body." She finally looked at her superior, her intermediary between her and the senior partners, and fervently hoped that said senior partners didn't require a personal briefing of their current status. Lawyers tended, with an alarming frequency, to simply not come back from such meetings.
"So, where is Lindsey's spark, his soul if you would, while all this maturation and decontamination is going on?" Her boss fixed her, finally, with his unrelenting stare. Demanding an answer, not even more hyperbole.
Lilah didn't like being forced to be definite, she far preferred to be well hidden in the shadows of ambiguity and obscurity. It was little wonder she had never managed to make any mark in the property division, there all that mattered was tight, concise definition with water tight clauses.
"I believe he's in the waiting room, sir. Being alive, I can not personally check on that, perhaps Holland could? He does have a degree of freedom of movement in and around the home office these days." Lilah didn't fidget, despite how desperately she wanted to. To show any kind of weakness before any of the senior vice presidents was simply not a good idea. Damn Lindsey and his stupid lust for that skanky vampire! It was all his fault and they were now going to all this trouble and for what? She couldn't see any point to it at all. "Of course, leaving him dead is always the cheapest and easiest option. It minimises our risks and our clients risks."
"True, but sadly it wouldn't afford us the opportunity to make him squirm while he tries to explain it all away. Now would it? And then, there's always the fact that only he knows what happened in his apartment. Also his soul, his spark is down there, as you so correctly said, where we can't go ask him. We need to know what happened, what further risk there is in all this, risk to us, the company and our clients. Do we have any idea who did it? Did the detectors and surveillance devices pick anything up at all? Can we get these answers anywhere else other than from Lindsey?"
She saw that her superior was also looking for a scape goat, one that wasn't currently alive, one that could be guilt ridden, or shame-faced into signing the same eternal contract that Holland had. The sort of contract she herself was currently trying so desperately hard to avoid putting a signature to. In the end it all came down to one very simple fact; she'd rather Lindsey signed his eternity away, than she her own.
"No we can't, I'm afraid. We did run the surveillance tapes and records through every decryption process we have, and what did we find? Nothing, if he were indeed cohabiting with the vampire Darla, as previously suspected, then he must have disabled the vampire detection devices to prevent our picking her lack of life signs up. It could have been anyone, or indeed, any thing. Although, I do rather suspect it was indeed our dear friend Angel that was most probably responsible. Lindsey was pushing him too hard, too far, well beyond breaking point. As I have mentioned before, frequently, if you push Angel too far you do not get the Angelus of history, but some insane stunt double. I suspect Lindsey pushed Angel way beyond his breaking point. As a result it is he himself that has been broken, as well as Angel. And I for one do not want to come face to face with the less than sane demon that's currently walking around looking like Angel!" Lilah faced the junior member of the board that had quizzed her. She chose to look at him directly, anywhere but at the real power in the room.
"Fine, dismissed Lilah. Go get some rest, you deserve it. And thank you for your reports and input. You will, as always, be kept informed of all decisions relevant to your department." Her boss smiled at her as he bade her leave the room, the building in fact. As he dismissed her and sent her home like a naughty school child.
Terrified it meant something more than it was, Lilah Morgan stumbled out the door, out the building eventually, more aware than ever before of that little bit of space directly behind her shoulders. She suddenly missed Lindsey with all her heart, he had at the very least made an alternative target to herself. Lilah was feeling very lonely indeed.
***
In the waiting room a lone soul paced the area he could feel. He certainly couldn't see anything. He had a dread idea that he knew exactly where he was, how long he could expect to remain there was anyone's guess however. If he were lucky it would be later, rather than sooner that he would be let out of his light tight waiting room. Whatever delights resided in the rest of Hell he could long wish to put off greeting them. Damn Angel anyway! Killing him like that! He was no doubt hidden away someplace with Darla, fucking. His love had never been enough for the mad woman, the vampire, the whore!
He stepped a little too far and encountered yet another wall. Taking advantage of it's solid feel he slapped his hand against the surface, hoping to vent some of his inner aggressions against it. Instead he felt marks in the surface. Always curious, he explored his new discovery, instantly putting aside his anger to look at someone else's pain. It had to be more fun than his own, after all whomever had done it had felt the cause worthy of recording. Someone, or even some thing, had cut letters into the surface of the wall, that much was easy to decipher. He traced the sentences back to what felt like the beginning. He tried to read the words with his fingers. But it was almost impossible. Years of guitar playing had left him with thickened calluses on his finger tips. It was then that he realised his soul had both hands. That idea brought a smile to his face and relaxed his mind just enough.
Lindsey McDonald did something in death that he never did even once in life. He prayed for illumination, of the Fates of Gods or whatever would listen to him to lighten his darkness. Just enough so he could read would do. He wasn't greedy, a spark of light to read by was all he wanted. Not even salvation, just light.
"You never learn, do you Lindsey? What did Angelus say to you? Be careful what you wish for? Hmm? Sound familiar?" The so very familiar tones of Darla's voice echoed into the dark right behind him.
"Darla? What are you doing here? I'd have thought you'd be fucking Angelus someplace." The derision in his tone spoke volumes of what had happened to his one time love for the female vampire.
"Shows you what you and your pathetic band of lawyers know, doesn't it? Angelus killed me right after he killed you. Again! It's getting to be too much of a damn habit with him. And he killed me for much the same reason I suspect he killed you. Sadly, that reason has absolutely nothing to do with you and I fucking, and escapes me for the moment. Something seems to have happened to my Angelus, something I don't even want to think about. He's not anyone I recognise any more." Darla stepped away slightly and the sounds of cloth rustling filled the darkness. "Here, this is for you. I woke up this place, not here, and the man in charge gave me this and sent me here to deliver it. He said you'd need it and have to hide it from them. He didn't say who or what them was or were. But here's your thing. If you get this, I get a lighter sentence this time." She felt for Lindsey's hand and put a small round thing in it. As she did so it glowed slightly. Casting a warm light over his hand. "Said he was Hades or something, but anyway, you got it, I'm out of here. Bye Lindsey, it was a blast." As she finished speaking she faded from view until all Lindsey was left with was the tiny light with which to read the words so painstakingly carved into the walls of his current location.
Lindsey put all of his resent happenings aside and went back to the start of the words he had discovered and began to read. As if a magic force held him there he couldn't stop reading no matter how hard he tried.
- I Angel, having been known by many other names want to tell whomever what brought me here. It was jealousy. Pure and simple, jealousy led to my downfall. I never could display proper emotions, I don't think I ever truly understood my feelings. Especially where lovers were concerned, and this tale concerns at the very least two of them. My precious William and the woman whom I foolishly thought of as my soul's mate. Just because I had a soul when I met her. Ironic, isn't it? I fell in love and released Angelus, yet, when I last fell in love it was Angelus' doing and his act of betrayal that destroyed it. None of us has had any luck in love. Liam didn't even know the meaning of the word love, Angelus saw it as a weakness in himself and a weapon in others, and I bollixed it up the first chance I got... -
It looked to Lindsey that he had a lot of reading to do, the light to do it by and all the time in creation in which to do it. At least he was familiar with the cast of characters in this story, it was a start at least.
***
In his bedroom Angel was weeping yet again. This time he was getting annoyed with himself. He had shed more tears since leaving Sunnydale than he ever had before. All of them for his William, his Spike, and his actions of a scant three days before. Now, for a change, it was his actions of more than a hundred and twenty odd yeas before. It was for the words so very neatly and carefully written in the book in his hands, his William's journal for the year 1873.
As he read, or tried to read the words before him there came a knock on his bedroom door. He recognised instantly that half timid rapping.
"Come in Cordeilia, what can I do for you?"
"I thought I'd let you know that Wesley and Gunn are now both secured in the third floor room, as planed." She entered the room fully and looked at Angel and his distraught face. "What's wrong this time? More bad news?" She crossed the room to perch beside him on the edge of his bed. Reaching out to her friend, she laid a gentle hand on his nearest hand and squeezed softly.
"No, just my William's journal. Listen, this is what he wrote of the morning after the night he went home after I turned him. Listen to his words." He moved his hand from her soft, comforting grasp and lifted the book into a comfortable reading position. He took a deep, entirely unneeded steadying breath before he spoke again. This time relating Spike, his William's words to his audience.
'It was late evening by the time I staggered home to my mother's house. I had great need of her beloved Gronmann's council. His words are, as ever, sage, embodied with the wisdom of his people. He took me aside and I told him my tale first. Together we sat at table in the kitchen. He, cutting deeply into his flesh to bleed for me. And I, watching with all the attention of a half starved beggar at a great banquet. Trasker blood is almost tasteless, but it had such a power to it. Such strength, such vigour. Soon, I was feeling better. Not exactly human again. Nothing will ever fill that shadowed place in my soul ever again. Except possibly the first sunrise I chose to greet, rather than continue this horrendous existence. But I digress, forgive me sweet muses, I anticipate events which is just not done in the arts of a chronicler. After I had drank of his blood, Gronmann took me at once to see mother. Mother looked just as she always did. Full of life, love, warmth. Will I ever feel warm again? As I looked at her a shiver straight from the depths of Hell shot up my spine and once more I found myself breaking into tears. The important word in this tale is breaking. I felt as if all of me was going the way of Jericho's walls. Crumbling to dust. Just as surely as I would if staked. I confessed to her, there and then the plain, unvarnished facts of my new existence and sat heavily by her on the couch she had lain upon for her rest. "I am a demon, a creature to be cast in stone and mounted on a cathedral roof. I am such a hideous being that no one should look upon my visage" I confess I wept and lost all control of my face, my inner horror came to the fore and in its demonic features I sat by my mother's side and wept like no demon has before me. Mother, blessed angel, she raised her hand to my hideous demonic mask and touched my tears. She smiled sadly, knowing the loss of all my dreams that I struggled under and she spoke so strongly to me that I knew all could not be lost. Not yet, for where there is Mother there is life and hope. Always blessed hope. She touched my tears and chastised me. "Nonsense, my sweet William, Gargoyles don't cry! Therefore you can never be such a creature." She touched my tears, my face. I praise the Gods that have forsaken me thus for such a Mother and mine.... I am not a Gargoyle.. for I weep and Gargoyles don't cry...'
"She sounds wise and caring and so right. You aren't that ugly beast either. You should remember her words and get some rest." Cordeilia took the ageing volume from her friends hands and placed it on his night-stand. "Wes and Gunn are all tucked in safe for the night, and I just stopped by to say good night myself." She reached over and kissed his cheek. "Remember, you aren't the ugly one, what's left of Angelus is."
"Perhaps, but what I was, even as a man, was uglier than any stone demon that graced any church." Angel looked at Cordeilia, eye to eye, willing her to see the truth in his soul.
"Then renovate yourself Angel. Only, not tonight, ok? Go to sleep." She walked back to the door before turning to face her friend once more. "See you around lunch time, ok? No one's planning on being awake much before lunch time. So sleep!" She admonished him and made to leave his room, a lingering echo of the story she had just heard puzzled her however. "Angel?" She quizzed her friend as she turned back to face him. "Why does everyone call him 'Sweet William' you did earlier, now his mom did too? Why sweet?"
Angel's honestly puzzled look at her question brought a genuine smile to her face. Waiting for an answer, any answer, she tilted her head to one side and smiled once more.
Was he fond of sugar or something?" Cordeilia walked back to Angel's bedside and sat beside him once more.
"No, it's just that there's a flower called a sweet william, it's small, delicate, all reds and pinks and whites and purples. All shades of my William's blushes. He was all at once delicate and strong, gentle and robust. Sweet William just fitted him, until I robbed him of that sweetness..." Cordeilia interrupted him before he could reach the deep waters of yet another brood.
"But you didn't. You read his journal, didn't you listen to what you said, what he said? Don't you realise anything from that little bit you read to me?" She was genuinely amazed at Angel's obtuseness, that much was clear to the vampire. However he couldn't see what she was talking about.
"Realise what? That I turned him into the demon he hated being? That I killed him out of my own petty jealousies?" Angel snapped at her, how dare she try and acquit him from the guilt that was his due.
"What broke him finally wasn't you turning him, Angel, it was the death of his mother. I never heard anyone say he turned her into a demon too, so she had to die at some point. That would have been the pain he couldn't have stood if he was as sensitive and loving a son as he sounded. That sweetness survived you, it didn't survive her leaving him behind. She goes off to heaven and he can never follow.." She stopped talking, what had started out as a comforting speech had just ended up reminding Angel of the soul he had damned from heaven to hell.
She expected Angel to go off in instant deep brood mode, what she didn't expect was the laughter that bubbled up from somewhere deep within the vampire. It wasn't a harsh sounding laugh, but a robust, highly amused one.
"That's my Cordeilia, my Job's comforter. Where would I be without you?" The laughter stopped as suddenly as it started, ending on a deep soul shifting yawn. He pulled her down to lie beside him, content to feel her comforting warmth. Angel closed his eyes, listening to the heart beat that slowed and gentled as Cordeilia hugged him back. Exhausted beyond endurance, he finally fell into a deep sleep.
"Job's comforter? Sounds both rude and a question for Wes when Gunn lets me ask him." Cordeilia muttered to the ceiling as she joined Angel in sleep.
***
In Sunnydale, the Slayer shot awake and climbed from her bed. As she had the night before, the nightmares the worst she had ever lived through. She groped in the dark room for the battered leather duster she had taken from Dawn and shrugged it on over her night-gown. She didn't put the light on, she didn't believe she deserved that small comfort. No, it was Spike's duster she craved. It was the only sanctuary she had from the nightly round of nightmares. It was the only thing she had that brought the smell of Spike to comfort her. To wear what he had worn, to know the last body to be wrapped in that coat had been Spike's was so oddly comforting. Like he was keeping the nightmares away.
Her loss was incalculable, simply because she didn't know fully what it was that she had lost. Only that she had lost it before she had had the inclination to really know it. Now she never would. Spike had loved her, a protective love, a deep love and she had paid him back by letting Angelus loose on him.
As she fell asleep she vowed to herself that she would never fall in love again. Nor would she let anyone else fall in love with her. Being alone was all there ever was for a Slayer. Her gift in life seemed to revolve around death, she vowed never again. No one else would die for her love.
Dreaming of what might have been, she slept the rest of the night through. Wrapped in her Spike's duster.
***
In the third floor room they had been allocated, Gunn held Wesley close as the Englishman slept soundly. The pain and rejection from Virginia leaving him like that having taken its toll. Gunn was a patient man, he would wait, he wouldn't rush. He had Wesley in his arms, under his protection, where he knew the Englishman belonged. All the rest was gravy and could wait.
"I'm here for ya' man. Always!" He whispered as he joined his beloved Wesley in a deep refreshing sleep. Still holding his prize in his arms.
***
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Be warned - the next chapter will jump forwards a few weeks other wise we'll be here for eternity waiting for something to happen LOL!