Chapter Three
----====Spike====----
"And the reason I should go is?" I asked.
"Hmm," the Watcher gave this some thought. "Are you too redeemed to find appealing the opportunity to thoroughly mess up your Grand-sire's existence? Your new condition will throw an almighty spanner into the prophecy that Wolfram and Hart have been working towards for years. This being the prophecy that prevents them applying a more assertive method when managing their 'Angel Problem'. Soul or not, he has surely given you many reasons for that to tempt you."
"Too bloody right. But I need him in one piece right now."
"Of course," he chuckled darkly. "And your, er, clan does seem to have significant problems killing each other."
"Not helping your case here, Watcher."
"Try this then: I have reason to believe that Angel is missing. A carefully timed and staged introduction of you to Wolfram and Hart could provoke sufficient chaos to allow us to determine what they know of his fate or whereabouts. Since you want to find him, and it's your dust as he most certainly *will* stake you after the torture you imposed upon him, your best bet is to come along with me now."
Some people are so petty. What are a few hot pokers and some needle-nosed pliers between family? Especially after what he did to me over the years. But if the git was missing and this lot might just know something about it, Wesley was right. This was my best, and possibly only, lead at the moment. This added to sheer curiosity about Wolfram and Hart - I mean we've all heard the stories, seeing inside had got to be worth a look, and a nice drop of Glenfiddich; that's a dangerous combination.
So I said, "Ok, let's go."
That was how I found myself on the world's oddest motorbike trip. I knew ol' Rupert had some motorbike magazines before he settled on the mid-life crisis mobile, but I still never expected to see a Watcher on a bike. He knew how to ride it too.
It was a bummer having to give up the knife when we entered; it was a nice one. But it was more than made up for by making the valets at Wolfram and Hart park the bikes. Their faces were a picture at having to valet-park motorbikes, especially mine since it was filthy. Though I did make 'em park the bikes by the exit to the car park. I might have been in a bit of a mess on the old emotion front, but I hadn't totally lost all sense, even if some might disagree that I ever had any - including me.
***
----====Wesley====----
A little while later, I was walking unannounced into Lilah's office, with a bemused vampire and an outraged secretary at my heels. Lilah was not alone. I assumed that this was the late business meeting she had told me would claim her time this evening. There were three suited business types with her: two men and a woman. All three were young and nondescript, probably lawyers.
Lilah looked at me with an expression somewhere between anger and delight, and said in a sarcastic drawl, "Wesley! And you brought company, how considerate."
"I have someone here I wish you to meet," I smiled meanly at her. "You will probably wish to be alone when I introduce him to you." She nodded at the secretary who left and closed the door behind her, but the suits were apparently to remain.
I looked hard into her eyes and waited for the response. Sure enough, it came. The slight flaring of nostrils, lips parting, pupils dilating: it was nothing anyone but a lover would notice. My cold smile grew broader.
One of the male lawyers, the taller of the two, sniffed loudly and then said. "Wesley Wyndam-Pryce?"
Surprised, I looked away from my lover's grey eyes and towards the speaker. "Yes?"
The man turned to his two colleagues and they nodded. I cast a questioning glance back to Lilah, but she shrugged, seemingly as mystified as I.
The female suit removed a plastic device from her handbag, a nasal spray, and used it appropriately. Behind me, I sensed Spike startle. I turned to him and raised an eyebrow. He made a 'let's get out of here' gesture with his head. Things were definitely beginning to feel strange in this office, but I had not yet rubbed Lilah's prettily sculpted nose in the fact of a second souled vampire, and so I wasn't prepared to leave.
I addressed the woman whose name was on the door. "Miss Morgan, perhaps your... colleagues could excuse you for just a few minutes. This won't take long."
Before she could answer, the man who spoke earlier said, "Wesley George Wyndam-Pryce, son of John Sacheverell Wyndam-Pryce, we would wish to offer you a contract."
Lilah startled, "What..?" and Spike's hand appeared on my arm and pulled me back towards the door.
"Just say no on this," he muttered into my ear. "Trust me."
Feeling more than a little amused, I asked, "What sort of contract?"
"A lucrative one," answered the second man. He removed an identical nasal spray to the one the woman used from his jacket pocket, and applied it. Had they all got colds?
"What kind of contract?" I asked again.
The woman answered. "We will require you to relocate to the town of Sunnydale. Your work will involve translation and expertise in the areas of demonology, non-human linguistics and mystical phenomena." She might as well have been reading from my curriculum vitae.
"No," Lilah asserted firmly. "There's been a misunderstanding. Mr Wyndam-Pryce is a valued associate of the Los Angeles branch of Wolfram and Hart. He is not available to relocate anywhere." I laughed openly at her, anyone would have thought that she would miss me. She looked down at her desk, flustered.
The shorter man stared impassively at the woman who clearly believed she held my leash. "I hope you remember, Miss Morgan, that we're here with the full and express endorsement of your Senior Partners. You were, I believe, told to make our needs your own until our project is completed." Lilah didn't seem to have an answer for him. She glared at her computer screen.
Spike's hand, which remained on my arm, tightened, and I frowned at him. He looked intently at me, "I'm serious, Watcher," he said in a low voice.
"I'm sure you are," I replied in my normal tone. I turned back to the strangers.
"Who do you represent, and why did you quote my father's name at me?"
"More to the point," Spike asserted, "why are you searching the offices of Angel Investigations, and just what the hell do those bloody sprays you keep sticking up your noses do anyway?"
This outburst had an interesting result. The taller man, as if unable to resist after the subject was raised, took a nasal spray from the side pocket of his jacket and jabbed it angrily up his nostril. The woman looked sharply at Spike, took out a palmtop from her bag and started punching her finger vigorously into the keys. The third suit moved around Lilah's table to where we stood at the door, and held his hand out to Spike,
"I don't believe we've been introduced."
Suddenly, I was in no hurry to reveal Spike's identity. Spike looked at the proffered hand, but otherwise ignored it. He also moved back so that he was between the man and the door. He was clearly preparing to fight; I have been in enough combat situations to recognise the stance.
I turned to Lilah, "It seems that we indeed caught you at a bad time. I apologise for the disturbance, we will be leaving now. Do take care, Miss Morgan."
As I turned to exit the room, the female suit looked up from her palmtop and said, "The vampire has the document." The man near Spike slammed his hand on the door to prevent our opening it, and I heard the click of a gun being cocked behind me.