by Ebony Silvers

Mama and Daddy's Waltz

I'd walk for miles, cry and smile for my Mama and Daddy.
I want them, I want them to know,
How I feel, my love is real for my Mama and Daddy.
I want them to know I love them so.

In my heart, joy tears start, `cause I'm happy.
And I pray, every day, for Ma and Pappy.
And each night.
I'd walk for miles, cry and smile for my Mama and Daddy.
I want them to know I love them so.

And in my heart, joy tears start, `cause I'm happy.
And I pray, every day, for Ma and Pappy.
And each night.
I'd walk for miles, cry and smile for my Mama and Daddy.
I want them to know I love them so.

I love them so.

Written by Lefty Frizzell.  Sung by Iris Dement
(© Peer International Corporation.)
From "My Life", © 1994, Warner Bros. 

Los Angeles, California
Wolfram & Hart Building
Saturday, 1:37 pm
November 1, 2003

Claxons and alarms assaulted the well-filtered and conditioned air of the offices of Wolfram and Hart.  They made Angel’s head hurt more than it already did from the whack he’d given it when the first alarm sounded.  Of course, he should have remembered he was under his desk before he tried to jump up but he hadn’t expected something that sounded like “Red Alert” on the Starship Enterprise to go off.  He was just glad he was alone and no one had seen him.  He grabbed the back of his head with one hand, the rather rare and somewhat exotic artifact he’d been trying to retrieve in the first place with the other, and managed to crawl out from under his desk with no further mishaps.  He stood to find Harmony looking at him oddly.  Of course, Harmony looked at most things oddly so he wasn’t sure if it was the novelty of her boss crawling about under his desk or just Harmony’s habitual blankness that caused her expression.  Angel wasn’t sure there really were that many functioning brain cells under her perfectly styled blond locks.  “What?” he snapped.

“Ah, there’s a problem.  Well, I suppose you already know that because, well, alarms and red lights and everything.”  Her perky slightly tremulous smile reflected the red flash of the alarm lights.

Angel wondered yet again if maybe he wasn’t really dead and this was some aspect of Hell.  Of course, as the law firm for Ultimate Evil, it actually was an aspect of Hell but....  He decided he’d been in close proximity to Harmony far too often.  His thinking was becoming as disjointed as hers.

“Why are the alarms going off?” he managed to ask without pulling her head off.  He figured that was about the best anyone could expect of him under the circumstances.

“Oh,” Harmony said brightly.  “There’s a giant demon in the lobby eating everyone in sight.”

There was indeed a giant demon in the lobby though it wasn’t eating anyone at the moment and Angel would have labeled it more of a dragon than a demon anyway.  Or maybe a hydra since it did have three heads.  And wings, huge wings that it couldn’t quite use in the confines of the atrium but which nonetheless were beating the hell out of the architecture.  Its scales gleamed with the blue-green iridescence of peacock feathers and its nine eyes glowed with purple demon fire.  “Okay,” Angel said slowly.  “Please tell me that’s not a client.”

“It’s not,” Eve said from beside him.  He hadn’t seen her walk up but perhaps she hadn’t; she did have that annoying habit of just appearing.  “I think you might say it’s more of a competitor,” she said.

“Would you care to elaborate?” Wesley said as he ducked a flying bit of masonry.  “Preferably before it destroys the whole building,” he added.

“I’m...not sure,” she said reluctantly.  “It’s not supposed to be here.”  She frowned at the huge creature.  “But since it is here, you need to destroy it.  And....” she jumped as lightning flashed and thunder ran through the lobby.  “Oh dear, I should have known,” she murmured as she looked at the six people that had appeared with the lightning strike.  “I take back what I said.  You don’t need to do anything.  They’ll take care of it.”  Her eyes brightened.  “Or perhaps we’ll get lucky and the demon will kill them.”

Before Angel could demand an explanation, she was gone.  “I hate when she does that,” he said to Wes.  Then he was distracted by the sextet facing the dragon demon.

“Oh yeah, this is a lot better,” the lone woman among them said.  Wild locks in a shade too red to be natural swung as she tossed her head.  "Nobody and I mean nobody does a demonic ascension in my town without the Master's permission," she drawled.

Ascension?  Angel knew about those.  So the dragon was some power-hungry lunatic trying to turn into a true demon.  “Lovely,” Angel mused.  “Just what the world needs, another nut-case wanting to take over.”  On his list of things to be avoided at all costs an ascension was about twelfth - somewhere between accidentally racking himself in the balls and listening to Fred explain quantum theory.

"Boys, I think we need to explain to this piece of jumped-up white trash just who rules New Orleans," the redhead woman concluded, tossing a slim black javelin to one of the men and pulling a gun from the holster strapped to her leg.  She was dressed a mix of street clothes and combat gear.  Kevlar thigh guards and body armor were strapped over her jeans and shirt.  They added bulk and made it hard for Angel to tell what her body type was.  She was short and her cowboy boots were nearly dainty in their smallness.  Her hands were equally small and snowy pale wrapped around the grip of her black gun.  Though in early middle-age at least, her face possessed an antique sort of beauty not compatible with her modern clothes or her wild cherry-wood hair.

"Oui, m' ange.  People been getting real forgetful about that lately," one of her companions answered.  He had to be the prettiest man Angel had ever seen.  Unfortunately, his good looks were nearly destroyed by clothes as trashy as Angel had ever beheld.  In Angel's opinion no man should wear a shirt that shade of purple.  Even the man's Kevlar vest couldn’t hide the tackiness of it.  Angel wondered how the black-haired beauty managed to move in jeans that tight.  Still the young man hefted the large spear he carried with confidence and moved toward the dragon with grace.

“René, you take the left wing, amour,” the shorter of the five men said to him.  Command rang even though his voice was soft and gentle.  “Devereau, right thigh.  Paul can take the left.” 

A dark-haired man possessed of the magnificence of an ancient Persian statue nodded and tested the weight of his spear.  “Yes, Your Highness,” he said softly.  Alone Paul would have been considered extremely handsome despite the combat clothing but he seemed a dim candle beside the flaming splendor of the black-haired René.  Paul’s face was strong with snapping dark brown eyes to match the wavy hair that swept across his shoulders.  His full lower lip stretched in a smile that gleamed blindingly white against his swarthy skin and carefully trimmed beard and mustache.  Not quite as tall as René, he was slightly larger with a broad chest and powerful thighs.

“Jack?  You will take the right wing, oui?"  The speaker’s manner was elegant and subdued in stark contrast to the red-haired woman's and the trashy René’s.  He, too, was handsome, physically as well-built as anyone Angel had ever seen, but it was the quiet authority that surrounded him that set Angel's teeth on edge.  Even without Paul’s appellation of “your highness” Angel would have known this was a man who was used to command.  It gleamed in his coffee colored eyes.  The set of his firm jaw as he pushed a lock of rich brown hair from his lightly tanned forehead only further assured Angel that this man was the leader of this group.

"Done," the man who must be Jack answered.  His light brown hair was heavily streaked with pale gold.  A blond just to finish out the set Angel supposed.  Like most of his companions, he was dressed in black S.W.A.T-style combat gear, his comfort in the apparel lending him an air of elegance.  He was also easily the oldest of the group with fine lines around his green eyes in contrast to the unlined, youthful faces of his compatriots.  He shouldered his spear and moved confidently closer to the demon.  Lanky and tall, he evidenced none of the age on his face in his walk or his voice.  A grin lit his pale face as he considered the demon, lending sudden youth to the smooth classical planes of his face and making Angel reevaluate his opinion of the man’s age.

The remaining stranger, clad in the same black clothing and gear as Jack, remained quiet, merely nodding his acceptance of the order.  As he turned, Angel was able to see his face clearly for the first time.  Angel amended his opinion of René.  This young man was easily a rival in terms of beauty.  They had the same thick black hair though Devereau’s was shorter than the long locks that hung down René’s back.  Both were tall, lean men who moved with a lithe ease, broad shoulders narrowing to slim hips and long legs.  Their faces were similar in the underlying bone structure and in their perfection.  Unusual golden eyes provided a match to tanned skin in Devereau’s case rather than the amazing teal irises and pale olive skin of the barely older René.  As alike as any two people he’d ever seen, Angel assumed they were siblings.

Regardless of what relationships might exist, Angel had no trouble recognizing trained fighters when he saw them.  From their Kevlar and weapons to the earphones and speaker tubes that trailed a spiral cord to a pocket high on their Kevlar armor, these were well-equipped, serious warriors.

Angel spotted Eve issuing orders to the new head of his security department, apparently telling the man much the same she had told Angel.  Angel doubted if Security got any more details than he had.  He settled in to watch the battle, ready to intervene if he felt Eve was wrong and these people couldn't take down the demon. 

He had to admit their attack was impressive.  Within a second, four of them threw the javelins they held, symmetrically piercing the creature's wings and thighs.  The woman nodded a silent order to the man who had directed the first assault.  With a cry he hurled his weapon unerringly into the center eye of the hydra's middle head.

"Yes!" René crowed.  "I knew you could do it, Jean!"  In keeping with his accent, he pronounced Jean in the French fashion.

"Hurry!  We don't have much time," the woman ordered.

"Mais oui, Maman," the newcomers’ leader, Jean, agreed.  “Paul, start the binding.”

Paul began a chant in Latin that made Angel’s skin itch and set several of his employees to moaning in pain or fleeing the lobby as Jean pulled a large crucifix from beneath his coat.  Its jewel-encrusted surface glinted brightly and caused more than one employee of Wolfram and Hart to turn away from the sight.  "In the name of God the Father Almighty, Maker of Heaven and Earth, you cannot ascend," Jean said as held the holy object out before him.  The demon shrieked and its right-hand head lunged for him.

The beautiful René parried the assault with the broadsword he now held his in right hand.  A second golden crucifix as large as, though plainer than, the other man's was clasped in his left.  "In the name of Jesus Christ, our Lord and Savior, you cannot pass onto this plane," René said forcefully his words slurred by his heavy accent.

The blond parried the attack from the left-hand head by shooting it in the eye.  The head pulled back screaming like a jet at takeoff.  "In the name of the Holy Virgin Mary, Mother of God, you are not welcome among the living," he said, his accent pure American and harder-edged than the soft Cajun-French slur of the other men.

The creature spat a stream of venom that caught Jack across the back of the hand.  Smoke rose where the poison touched but he didn't release the silver cross he held.  He did however curse and, to Angel's everlasting shock, morph into full vampire face.  As if cued, all of his companions but Devereau did the same.  Beside him, Angel heard Wes' soft gasp and the sudden acceleration of his already rapid heartbeat.  Gunn's reaction was less restrained.  "What the Hell?  Since when do vampires hold crosses?"

“Or invoke the name of God,” Wesley added.

Eve was with them again, walking up as silently as she always did.  "Behold the Redeemed," she said in sarcasm-laced tones.

"In the name of the Powers That Be, you will not ascend," the redhead shouted above the outcry the creature's three heads were making.  "I am the Voice of the Oracle.  You will not pass!"  She threw her arms wide as her eyes began to glow with golden light.

"Show-off," Eve murmured.

Devereau held his right hand high and a cup, glowing so brightly Angel couldn’t look directly at it, materialized in his grasp.  “Je suis le Gardien du Graal Saint. Vous ne pouvez pas entrer,” he called out above the roar of the demon and the beating of its wings. 

Eve’s eyes went very wide.  “The Holy Grail?  But that wasn’t supposed to....”  She frowned and stared intently at the young man and his glowing cup.

The red-haired woman was now floating a good foot off the floor.  The golden light spilling from her eyes struck the cup Devereau held aloft and he reflected it to the lance embedded in the demon's eye.  The light spread in narrow lines to the other lances impaling the hydra.  Mystic fire formed a circle and a pentagram within the circle, each point one of the bleeding spear wounds.  The image of a simple chalice appeared in the center of the pentagram, burning into the dragon’s chest.  The demon threw back its three heads and shrieked deafeningly.  A whining roar like Lear engines filled the atrium and shattered one of the huge glass panels at the front of the lobby, raining glass down on the hapless employees who were beneath.  The hydra batted its great wings, knocking the attacking vampires from their feet, and with a toss of its wounded center head sent the redhead sailing into the wall behind her.  The indentation of her body was plain in the plaster as she tumbled down to the floor.  But her work had been completed, the glowing fire on the demon's body ate quickly at the creature, spreading and consuming it.  Jean rushed forward and snatched something from the dragon as it fell back against the stair nearly knocking Angel from his feet.  With a final shriek, the demon vanished into sparkling ash floating on the artificial currents of the air-conditioning.

With all the various demons and laboratories--both mystical and otherwise--that were housed in Wolfram and Hart, the air filters always worked overtime to keep the air from smelling hideous.  Right now they were overwhelmed by the stench of burned flesh and glittering dust, all that remained of the dragon.

Of course, that wasn’t entirely true.  The leader, Jean, had snatched what looked like a large scale from the demon before it disintegrated.  He was dropping it into a strange, rune-covered sack that Paul was holding open for him.  René was gathering the purple blood that had pooled on the floor into a crystal phial.  Angel decided he’d take the demon artifacts as soon as he could.  He smiled when he heard Wes directing one of his employees to gather as much of the blood as possible.  Wes might be a lot of things but he wasn't one to waste an opportunity.

The blond Jack was kneeling beside the woman, helping her sit up.  “Are you alright, honey?” he asked with heavy concern tinting his voice.

"Ow.  That hurt like hell," she replied and leaned into his embrace.

Angel frowned and was headed down the stairs with Wes and Gunn a step behind him when Eve placed a restraining hand on his arm.  "Let Security handle it from here," she ordered.  She nodded to where Angel's armed employees were fanned out, ready to attack.

His visitors had been more observant than Angel had.  “We got company, frère,” René said softly to Jean before raising his voice in instant warning.  “Jacques!  Heads up.  Incoming fire," he shouted as a gun fired from the ranks of assembled security people.

“Down!”  Jack grabbed Devereau, forcing him to the floor.  The Glock in Jack’s hand barked once and the Wolfram and Hart security guard who had fired went down.  Jack opted for another head shot and a second security guard dropped to the floor dead.

Twin Magnum fifty-caliber automatics roared from René’s fists as he dived to Jack’s side, placing himself between any bullets and the young man now under Jack’s knee.  Jean fired with equal alacrity from his slightly different angle, the sounds from the specially made Wildey Magnum forty-five in his hand strangely quiet.  Their Kevlar defeated the bolts, bullets, and wooden darts of the security forces.  Man or demon, anyone that the newcomers perceived as a threat was rapidly the target of all-too-accurate fire.

Angel wasn’t quite sure how it happened but suddenly the redhead and Paul were past him and Eve was hanging over the edge of the stair rail with the invading woman’s arm around her throat and a gun to her head.  Paul had an arm around Wesley, a grenade pressed to the Englishman’s chest.  Gunn lay half-unconscious at Wesley's feet.

“These your men, Evie?” the redhead drawled.

“Ang...Angel’s,” Eve answered as her feet kicked, seeking purchase somewhere on the outside of the stairs.

One deep auburn brow twitched.  “Call ‘em off, Angelus” the other woman ordered.

“She...She’ll shoot, Angel.  She’ll kill anyone that gets in her way,” Eve stuttered.

Paul inclined his head.  “And I’ll happily release the trigger on this grenade.  You might want to know that it contains a fair amount of wood included in its makeup.  Quite deadly to vampires.  My lady is protected by the woman she holds and I’m protected by Master Wesley.  You however are at high risk.”  His smoothly cultured English accents only emphasized the threat of his words.

“Not to mention Jack will have no trouble putting a wooden bullet through your heart at this range,” his compatriot drawled.  "And FBI agents are taught to shoot to kill, by the way."  A quick glance showed Jack’s weapon trained unfalteringly on Angel.  “Call ‘em off now.”

Eve sputtered and held tightly to the arm keeping her from falling to the floor of the atrium.  “Please, Angel.  It will be okay."  She tried to smile.  "Believe it or not, they’re on your side.”

Angel frowned at the girl but did as she asked.  It took a few moments but the sounds of gunfire faded and though no one moved, the threat of immediate death lessened.  Eve was swung back over the stair railing and landed on her backside at Angel’s feet.  Wesley was released but Paul still held his grenade.  He quickly drew a large Smith and Wesson 945 as well.  Eve scrambled to her feet putting Angel’s bulk between her and her attackers.

The redhead was looking around with a frown.  “This place looks familiar.”

“It’s Wolfram and Hart,” Gunn said in a voice that was almost a snarl.  He held a hand to his aching head as he sat up.

Her eyebrows arched.  “So it is.  Paul, blow it up,” she ordered coldly, her honeyed Southern accent as chill and deadly as heavy frost on an orange grove.

“Very good, my lady,” Paul answered with a smile.

“Wait!” Eve shouted.  “It’s not...not the Wolfram and Hart you’re familiar with.  This branch belongs to Angel.  It’s....” her tone weakened as if she realized how ludicrous her statement was going to sound.  “It’s devoted to the cause of Good.”

The other woman snorted in amusement.  “It’s what?  Devoted to Good?  The lawyers from Hell are working for Angel?”  She laughed softly.  “Normally I wouldn’t believe anything that came out of your mouth, Eve, but that’s so bizarre it has to be the truth.”  She thought for a moment and eyes as yellow was any he’d ever seen stared up at Angel.  “So you run Wolfram and Hart?  You still working for the Good Guys?” she asked as if the two were an impossible combination.

Angel glowered.  “I am one of the good guys.”

She laughed.  “Still lying to yourself, too, I see.”  She holstered her gun though Paul and her other companions didn’t move.  “I may not be one of the good guys but I married one.”  She winked at the blond man still guarding the lovely Devereau.  He grinned.  “We’ll stand down but your men take one more shot at my grandson and I’ll bring this building down around your ears.”  Mercurial, she smiled and held out her hand.  “Baby Roxton.  Sorry about the mess but we had a demon ascension to stop.”

Angel decided she was nuts.  He took her hand gingerly.  “The last one I saw was messier.”

Baby laughed.  “Yeah, Giles blew the hell out that library of his!”  She waved a languid hand.  “It’s okay, boys.  We’re gonna have a little talk with Angelus.  Maybe we won’t have to blow it all up after all.”

René holstered his guns.  “Damn, I was looking forward to it,” he muttered.  “It was fun last time.”

Jean laughed and clapped him on the shoulder.  “Maybe next time, amour.”  He held out a hand and hoisted Devereau to his feet.  “Are you all right, fils?”

“Oui, Papa Jean.”  He frowned as he holstered his weapon.  Angel noticed that the cup he’d held earlier had disappeared.  Guns were tucked away but Angel had seen how quickly they could be drawn and had no illusions about the danger these strangers posed.  It occurred to him that during the brief battle after the demon had been defeated, none of them had shown their vampire faces.  All of them had remained human looking.  It struck him as odd.  Vampires usually preferred to fight in game face.

As they drew closer, he detected the sounds and scents of a living human from Devereau.  That explained why his face hadn’t changed but it added another gap to the puzzle.  Vampires and humans didn’t work together in the general run of things.  And vampires certainly didn’t expended excessive efforts protecting humans the way these vampires had protected Devereau.  Of course, vampires didn’t normally wield crosses and call on Heaven to help defeat demons either.  This was a very strange group and his curiosity was beginning to overpower his anger.  It increased when Jack and René nearly simultaneously asked Devereau, “Are you sure you’re alright?”  There was intense concern on both men’s faces.

Devereau shook his head.  “I’m fine.  And I hate when you do that, PawPaw,” he said with a frown in Jack direction.  “It’s not like I don’t know how to fight.”

Jack seemed completely unfazed by Devereau’s displeasure.  “Killing demons is your job, kid; killing everything else is mine.”  He grinned.  “Besides, your mom and dad would have my skin if you got hurt.”

“Yeah, Jacques just looking out for you, Dev.”  René winked.  “You sure you okay?”

As Devereau rolled his eyes, Jack moved to stand beside Baby.  The older man glanced quickly toward Angel and shook his head.  "Duplicates.  Just freaking wonderful," he muttered and gently placed his arm around the woman.  "Lord Angelus.  Nice to see you," he said more loudly.  The caution in the greeting couldn't cover the arrogance in his stance.  In fact, Angel found there was more than a hint of superiority in the casual way the strangers all stood.  Even the woman who leaned against the older vampire in now obvious pain from her impact with the wall radiated a certain haughtiness.  There was also a coiled readiness to the group.  The crosses might be held negligently and the guns might be holstered but they were all at the ready. 

Angel recognized the breed when he saw them - trained killers and master vampires, not minions and lackies.  "It's Angel," he said shortly in response to Jack’s use of the name Angelus.

"Yeah, we know," René said with a sigh.  "Some things never change."

Jean laid a calming hand on the other man's arms.  "Frère."  He inclined his head to Angel.  "I get the feeling you don't know us."

"Should I?" Angel said tersely.

Jean smiled and though his was a charming and open face, Angel wasn't beguiled.  "No, I suppose not.  If nothing else, that would make it obvious that we're in a different dimension from our own.  We all work together where we're from."  He glanced at his companions and Angel could almost feel something pass between them.  They made no gestures but something in their eyes and the way the corners of their mouths relaxed convinced him some sort of wordless conversation was taking place.  He was certain of it when the handsome Jean nodded once and said, "That being the case, perhaps it’s best we be on our way and not disturb you."

Angel glanced about his somewhat battered lobby.  "A little late for that, I think."  He planted himself firmly between the newcomers and the exit.  "I don't normally let people waltz in, destroy my property, kill my employees, and then waltz out without an explanation."

"Jesus God," the woman muttered.  "I hate it when he gets in that kind of mood."  She sighed.  "Jack.”  There was some sort of plea in her voice that Angel didn’t understand.

Jack sighed.  “Is there somewhere specific you’d like to hold this conversation?  I assume you don’t want to talk right here in the open.”

“My office,” Angel said tersely and motioned the way.

“I’ll help Paul with our gear,” Devereau chirped and headed down the stairs.

Jack’s long arm snagged him before he took two steps.  “You will stay right here with me.”

“Yeah, you ain’t going anywhere without a couple of us with you,” René said.  “I’ll help Paul.  You stay with your grandmére.”

Devereau humphed in disgust.  “Yes, Grandpapa.”  He sighed and looked at Wesley as if seeking an understanding comrade.  “Never go on missions with your grandparents.”

Chapter 2

Los Angeles, California
Wolfram & Hart Building
Saturday, 2:48 pm
November 1, 2003

Angel planted himself firmly behind his desk and watched the other vampires troop into his office.  As he expected, they ranged themselves far from the expansive windows that covered one wall and allowed the afternoon sun into the office.  They gave the bright beams a wide birth, except Devereau who as a human had no need to fear the sun and...Jean.  Jean seated himself confidently on one of Angel’s couches next to Devereau directly in the sunlight.  The man confused Angel immensely.  He’d already noticed that Jean’s skin was faintly tanned.  So he was either newly turned—and if that was the case Angel would take up the priesthood—or he spent time in the sunshine.  Jean also radiated body heat and he had a heartbeat.  He showed all the signs of a living human but he moved and smelled like a vampire and Angel had seen his demon face.  Something extremely odd was going on.  Angel had a suspicion niggling at the edges of his consciousness but he couldn’t get it to coalesce into anything more than a nagging feeling that he knew what caused a vampire to have a living body.  Angel took note of the deep concern on Wesley’s face and nodded briefly to let Wes know he’d noticed Jean’s actions and oddities, too.

“So who are you people?” Angel asked as soon as Gunn closed the door behind him.

Baby Roxton sighed.  “I hate introductions,” she muttered to the blond who was perched on the arm of her chair watching her in concerned.  Angel had heard Jack reassure himself at least twice already that she was only bruised from her impact with the wall and that nothing was broken.

Paul bowed slightly.  “If I may then, my lady?”

“Knock yourself out,” she answered and moved a little closer to the man at her side.  Jack draped his arm over her shoulders as comfortably as if he were in his own office rather than Angel’s.

“I’d rather Eve did the honors,” Angel interjected.  Though he wasn’t sure he trusted Eve, he trusted the strangers a lot less.

“Of course, lord,” Paul answered.  He was completely unfazed by the request.  Angel got the feeling that it would take a lot to crack Paul’s cool exterior.

Eve nodded and tugged at her suit jacket.  She was over some of her fright and nervousness and though she inched a bit further behind Angel’s desk chair, her habitual sang froid had returned. 

"We have the great pleasure...."  Angel felt her sarcasm was a little overdone under the circumstances but then Eve was sometimes less than subtle.  "...Of entertaining the Pride, or at least a fair portion of its leadership.  The mighty Redeemed have deigned to grace us with their presence."

"The Redeemed?" Wesley said.

"The Forgiven," Jean replied.

"Forgiven by whom?" Wesley countered.

Angel was amazed Wesley'd been able to hold back his curiosity this long.  Angel was happy Wesley had asked, it saved him from doing it.  It looked better coming from Wes or Charles.  As leader, it wasn't proper for him to show that sort of curiosity.  The answer, however, made him forget that he was supposed to be aloof.

René pointed a finger skyward as Jean smiled gently.  "God.  God has forgiven us our demon nature.  We fight against the darkness inside ourselves and we fight the darkness around us.  We always have from the minute we were turned.  Our father showed us a different way to live and we were rewarded.  We are no longer condemned to spend eternity separate from God.  When we die, it is in a state of Grace."

"What?" Angel nearly shouted.

"I think they're saying they go to Heaven when they die," Charles explained.

"I got that part," Angel snapped.  "You're telling me you go to Heaven when you get dusted.  I'm supposed to believe that?"

René's smile was somehow wistful.  "It's true, we do.  I know it for a fact."

"You'll see it again, mon coeur," Jean said.  "I am just grateful you came back to us."

René shook his head.  "Heaven wasn't right without the people I love.  This is where I belong."  He shrugged.  "So I came back.  Being dead didn't suit me no way."

"Unfortunately, it is true," Eve said.  "The Redeemed, the Forgiven, whatever they're calling themselves this week, they're God's chosen warriors."  Eve rolled her eyes.  "They're trying to prove that demons are just fallen angels and can be welcomed back to the fold."

René frowned at her.  It was obvious he didn't like her tone.  "You're really starting to get on my nerves, girl." 

Angel decided he really didn't like the Cajun.  He was too beautiful and now he was some superhero vampire.  Angel looked at the cross the other vampire held so casually, ignoring the pain between the eyes that the holy object gave him.  The man didn't seem to even remember he was fingering something Angel would never be able to touch without burning.  Yep, hate him, Angel decided.

Eve apparently felt the same way.  “Prince René Beaumont, noted mainly for his good looks and his ability to beat any vampire in a fair fight.  He's the family muscle, definitely not the brains,” she added with a slightly catty note in her voice.

René grinned.  “Yeah, that's why I rule five states.”  The smile didn’t reach his ocean teal eyes.

“Paul Athenasius.  Vassal and major domo to Mrs. Roxton.”  Eve continued her introductions as though René hadn’t spoken though there was a decided spark of anger in her green eyes.

“I know you from somewhere,” Angel said turning his attention away from René and that damned cross he kept playing with.  The longer Angel looked at Paul, the more Angel was sure they’d met.

Paul nodded his agreement.  “I served your grandsire.”

“Yes, that’s it!  I saw you with the Master when Darla would drag me to the old monster’s court.  You were his head minion or something.”  Angel frowned.  "Don't tell me you're one of these Redeemed."

Paul was undisturbed by Angel’s displeasure.  “No, lord.  I doubt it is possible for one such as I to achieve the Gift.  As I said, I served Aurelius.”

Something his sire had told Angel bubbled up to the surface.  “Darla said you were old.  Really, really old.”

Baby Roxton grinned.  “Paul knew Aurelius when old bat-face was still breathing.  If there’s anyone older in the clan we haven’t heard of them.  He's our resident Ancient Evil or so he keeps telling me.”

Angel considered the possible power a vampire that old, minion or not, might possess.  If it came to a fight, he’d need to take Paul out first if possible.

Unaware of Angel’s strategic planning, Eve continued with her introductions.  “You met Lady Baby Roxton earlier.  And don't worry.  Unless there's been a new miracle, she's not Redeemed and never will be."  She smiled brightly.  "She’s the erstwhile Queen of New Orleans.  I understand the Master has taken a new lady.”

René snarled and Paul’s eyes swirled with lemon.  Jack's glare nearly peeled the paint from the walls.

“Nothing erstwhile about it, girl.  I am the Queen of New Orleans.  Always will be.  Doesn't matter who else the Master might or might not be with.  He’s sworn it and he doesn’t break his word.”

Jack’s curled lip showed one abnormally long fang.  “She’ll be Queen of New Orleans as long as she wants to be even if I have to take the damned city myself,” he growled.

“Of course.  Whatever her ladyship wants is all you’re ever concerned about, right?” Eve said with a sneer.  “Jack Niemczyk, husband to the Queen,” she said by way of introduction.

“Lord Jack,” Paul corrected rather coldly and Angel wondered what personal issues Eve had with these vampires and they with her.  He exchanged a look with Wesley that conveyed their agreement to just let Eve talk for a bit and they’d see what they could find out.  Angel watched Wes silence anything Charles Gunn might have thought of saying with a gentle hand on Charles’ arm and a significant but tiny jerk of his head.

“As you say.  Lord Jack is most noted for being the Queen’s favorite boy-toy,” Eve said.

Jack was unperturbed as he smiled, his fangs gone though there was still a hint of saffron lingering in his silvery green eyes.  “Guilty as charged.  Best job I ever had and the most fun.”  His grin softened as he looked down at Baby and brought her hand to his lips.

Eve wasn’t done.  “Speaking of guilty, have you gotten kicked out of the FBI for conduct unbecoming an agent, drug use, or sexual deviancy yet?”

Jack looked at her without raising his head though he paused where he had been nibbling Baby’s fingers.  “Nope.  Retired with thirty-five years of exemplary service.  I’m considered an example of what every special agent should be.  The Bureau would like to have a few hundred of me.”

Baby laughed.  “Lord!  The world’s not ready for that, Jackie!  If they were all like you, the Bureau would never get anything done for all the groupies hanging around.  Hollywood actors wouldn’t be able to hold a candle to ‘em.”  She thought for a moment.  “Then again, they might make D.C. a more fun place.”

René laughed.  “I don’t know, they could be real tight-assed if they was all like Jack.  I mean, he still don’t even understand how to dress fun.”

“If you mean I don’t look like a Bourbon Street thrift shop exploded on me, then no, I don’t know how to dress fun,” Jack retorted.

“See.  Tight-assed.”  René winked at Baby before grinning at Jack.  “The girls like the way I look.  Never have trouble finding me someone if I’m in the mood.”

Eve nodded.  “So I hear.  I understand even men don’t mind paying for the privilege of getting you in the mood.”

This time the growl was from Jean and it was as intimidating as any Angel had ever heard.  If he’d been a minion or a fledgling he’d have been on the floor trembling.  As it was, he just raised an eyebrow.

“That isn’t a subject for discussion now or ever, madam,” Jean said severely.

Eve wasn’t intimidated.  “Oh, of course.”  She swept her arm in the direction of the faintly tanned vampire sitting in the sunlight.  “How could I forget the grand saga of the Roxton brothers and their star-crossed romance?  René’s yours now, right?  When Her Majesty the Queen is through with him, that is.”  She looked back at Angel.  “Allow me to present his Royal Highness, the all-knowing, ever correct, ever perfect Prince Jean Claude DuValliere.  You might want to address him as Saint Jean like the rest of the world, him being so perfect and holy and all.”

“Whoo Jean!  I think she’s still mad that you figured out her scheme and wrecked her plans,” René said happily.  “Either that or she’s just pissed off ‘cause you wouldn’t have sex with her.”

Jack tilted his head.  “Well I’d be pissed off if Jean didn’t want to have sex with me.”

Jean laughed, his earlier rancor seemingly vanished though Angel wasn’t ready to bet on that.  “That is not likely to happen, mon beau amour.”  He turned eyes that went from amused warmth as he looked at Jack to cool warning as they settled on Eve.  “To answer your earlier question, yes, René is my husband.  Not that marriage vows seem to matter much to you, madam.”  Angel could have sworn there were blue sparkles in Jean’s deep brown eyes.

Recognition widened Devereau’s golden hazel eyes.  “That’s who you are!”  He leapt to his feet.  “I thought I knew you!”  He drew his fist back.  “I don’t normally hit girls who aren’t trying to kill me and mine but I’ll make an exception in your case!”

Jean wrapped his arms around the young man’s chest while René placed himself between Devereau and Angel.  Jack joined Jean in holding back the younger Beaumont.  He seemed unconcerned about standing in sunlight though the other vampires stayed carefully away.  It took a few moments but eventually Dev calmed enough that the two men released him.  Devereau glared at Eve.  “Do you know that you are the only bad memory I have about my dad?”

Eve drew a little closer to Angel.  “Who are you?”

"Devereau Beaumont," the young man snarled.  "And I know exactly who you are now!  You're the..." Dev paused for an instant before he managed to say the profanity.  "...Bitch that tried to take my dad away from us!"

“No,” Eve shook her head.  “Devereau Beaumont is a little kid.”

Baby snorted in derisive amusement.  “Time differences, remember.  Our world moves a little faster than yours.  We all knew it the minute we saw Wesley and Charles Gunn looking so young and alive.  I couldn’t tell you what year it is here but I’d say it’s sometime before 2015.”

Both humans frowned.  It was obvious they didn’t like the idea of the vampiress knowing them when they didn’t know her.

“Late 2003,” Angel supplied.

Baby nodded.  “It was 2024 the last time we saw Eve.  It’s 2041 now.  Dev’s nearly 22, Evie.  And you’re just lucky that it wouldn’t be good for Dev or I'd let him kill you.  You might want to adjust that attitude of yours; otherwise I’ll be happy to let him have at it.”  She grinned at Angel.  “Dev has a good enough reason.  See Little Miss Home-Wrecker here used magic to try to split up Dev’s parents when he was just a little kid.  Thank God in Heaven that Kevin Niemczyk is as strong-willed a man as his daddy and very much in love with my daughter.”

René nodded.  “Yeah, you got a son to be proud of in that boy, Jack.”  He took a deep breath.  “Kevin’s a hell of a good man.”

Devereau had never stopped glaring at Eve.  Angel found something familiar in the set of his jaw and the way his eyebrows knit into an uncompromising curve.  There was familiar venom in Devereau's voice as well.  “Yeah, he is.  Despite your spell, my dad loved my mom enough to tell you to go to hell in the end.  But not before you nearly destroyed what they had together!”  Anger radiated from the young man.  “Not before you got him to leave us!  It nearly killed my mom.  I can remember her crying on PawPaw Jack’s shoulder like she was dying.  For nearly a week she didn’t do anything but cry.  You hurt my mom!”

Jean laid a comforting hand on Devereau’s shoulder.  “Fils.  It’s alright.  Despite everything she tried, Kevin was never untrue to Nina.  He never bedded that....”  Apparently Jean couldn’t think of a word bad enough to describe Eve.

“Whore,” Baby supplied helpfully.  “Isn’t that what you call it when you have sex with someone for money?  The firm here paid you to seduce Kevin, right Eve?”

Eve wrapped her arms defensively around herself and avoided Angel’s sharp gaze.  “I was new here.  I did what I was told.”

Jack snorted and Baby’s gold eyes were as unforgiving as Devereau’s.  “That defense didn’t work too well for the Nazis at Nuremburg and it won’t work too well for you either.  The only reason I’m letting you live is because I have a nice little contract with Wolfram and Hart stating that I won’t destroy their property, including employees, without sufficient provocation.”  She grinned at Angel.  “Those boys downstairs fall under that sufficient provocation clause," she said parenthetically before returning to her main thought.  "In return for me not taking them apart a little at a time, Wolfram and Hart voided Kevin's contract as an employee with them and they stay completely away from Devereau and Nina.  Wolfram and Hart stay out of my life and away from my family.  I don’t hunt them and they don’t hunt me.”  She thought for a moment.  “Of course, they are still trying to recruit me to their side.  They’d be likely to forgive me for killing you, Evie.  In fact, the Senior Partners might just string you up for me to play with themselves if I ask them to.”

Eve blanched and eased further behind Angel.  It was plain there was a great deal of truth in what Baby was saying.

Wesley had raised a questing eyebrow and Jack was staring at him.  “What?”

“I find it hard to believe the Senor Partners are afraid of something, pardon me, as common as vampires,” Wesley said.

Baby twitched her head in acknowledgement.  “It’s a legitimate question.”  She smiled at the human.  “It took a while but I got their attention over the years.  We have a good powerbase.  W... my eldest son and my adopted son are both very powerful mages and the family holds a lot of territory.”

“New Orleans.  We heard,” Angel said.

The other vampires laughed.  “Everything from Brownsville to Miami and north to Maryland and Delaware and across the Mason-Dixon Line to the Oklahoma/New Mexico border.  It took us forty years but if it’s south of the Ohio it’s ours,” Baby said.  Her grin grew.  “Add in Southern California and it gets impressive.”

Angel’s face must have explained his disbelief because there was a certain swagger in her body language as she continued, “Plus, we completely took out Wolfram and Hart's operations in, what?  Six dimensions?”

“Eight,” Eve supplied tersely.  “And severely compromised our business dealings in nearly three dozen others.”

“And planted some truly nasty worm viruses both mystical and normal in their dimensionally central computer,” Baby added.  “They fuck with me or mine and the viruses get activated.  So, yeah, the Senior Partners would give me Eve if I wanted the skank.  And they really would like me on their side.”  She shrugged.  "It's a prophecy thing."

Angel thought of what the Senior Partners had done to get into his good graces.  “Yeah, I can believe that.”

She looked around.  “They're trying to recruit you, too, aren't they?  That how you ended up here?  Looks like they gave you the LA works.”

Angel nodded.  “Pretty much.”

“Be careful,” Baby warned.  “They like to twist the best of intentions and they know how to bring out the worst in a person.  Luckily, my worst is usually really bad for them!  They keep coming out on the short end whenever I go on a rampage."  Her eyes glittered topaz, hard and yellow-gold.  "And I'd keep an eye on that snake standing behind your chair.  She's really good at whispering sweet poison in a person's ear."

"I know what I'm doing," Angel said.  "And I fully understand...."

"What's with the commotion downstairs?  Bodies all about the place.  You kill another client?" Spike asked as he strolled in.

Angel sighed.  "Closed doors mean nothing to you, do they?" he said.  "The concept of knocking is beyond you, right?  Spike one of these days I'm going to...."  His comment trailed off as he realized Spike wasn't listening.  Not that Spike ever really listened to him but this time it wasn't just Spike trying to be exasperating.  The blond annoyance was staring open-mouthed at Angel's red-haired visitor. 

With a whoop and a bound, Spike swept Baby Roxton up in an exuberant embrace.  "Baby!  I thought I'd never see you again, pet!"  The smile that spread across his face was genuine and brought a twinkle to his eyes.  "Damn, it's good to see a friendly face around here!" 

Chapter 3

Los Angeles, California
Wolfram & Hart Building
Saturday, 3:29 pm
November 1, 2003

"Ow, ow, ow!" Baby protested.  "Bruised, Spike!  Don't hug so hard, sugar!"

He set her back on her feet.  "Sorry, luv.  It's just...Damn, I really have missed you!"  He looked around, the grin on his face bright enough to give Angel a headache.  "Jean!  René!  How are you?"  Angel watched as Spike bounced over and greeted the Cajuns with hugs and hearty pounds on the back.  Angel shook his head.  He should have known.  The bigger the pain in the ass a situation was, the more likely it was to be related somehow to Spike.  He wondered briefly if Spike might be responsible for the strangers' appearance in his lobby.  The thought was actually pleasant; it would give him an excuse to beat on the little shit.  Unfortunately, the surprise Spike was showing at seeing the visitors made it unlikely he'd somehow arranged for them to appear.  So Angel couldn't in all fairness pound Spike into kibble.  Angel gave a mental sigh.  Sometimes it really sucked being the good guy.

Spike was now happily making the acquaintance of those among the group that he didn't know.  The strangers certainly seemed to like Spike better than they had Angel.  There where hearty handshakes and smiles galore.  Even the enigmatic Paul thawed a bit as he shook Spike's hand.  Angel resisted the urge to growl.  The day seemed somehow brighter when Jack's greeting was less effusive and Spike actually looked down-heartened when Baby introduced Jack as her husband.

"Husband?  Then you and Other Me?"  Spike was frowning and had that kicked-puppy look he did so well, the one that annoyed Angel no end.

Baby quirked one corner of her mouth.  "Like the song says: baby, things change."

Spike's frown grew and anger hardened the sharp lines of his face.  "He didn't cheat on you again did he?  I'll kick his arse, Master or not."

She looked extremely uncomfortable.  "He didn't.  I did," she admitted.  Spike looked completely incredulous.  Angel couldn't understand it.  Baby Roxton was a loose woman if ever Angel had seen one and he was pretty much an expert and connoisseur of loose women.  Or at least he used to be when Angelus ruled their body.  Angel was pretty sure that her clothes alone would have gotten Mrs. Roxton arrested for prostitution if she went out on Hollywood Blvd.  When she'd shed the Kevlar armor, he'd raised more than an eyebrow at the thigh-high boots, short cuffed shorts, wide leather belt, and billowy white shirt open far too low.  If such a style had a name it would be Pirates of the Caribbean meets The Happy Hooker.  Angel wasn't the least bit surprised she'd cheated on her husband.

Spike's reaction was the exact opposite and, more over, he seemed to take it personally.  "What?  You never!"  He glowered at Jack, his mouth drawn into a tight little moue.  "With him?"

Jack growled warningly.  Angel had to admit it was a fairly impressive growl.  If nothing else, this group understood the rules of non-verbal intimidation.  For all their talk of working on the side of good and the fact that Baby and Jack both stank of souls--and there was NO WAY in Hell Angel was bringing that up with Wes and Charles in the room--they acted like pure vampires.  There were lots of subtle and not so subtle signs of who was dominant to whom and lots of subvocal communication backing up the skillful and indirect posturing.  There was even physical evidence of it.  All of them except Devereau bore bite scars marking them as the property or mate of one of the others.  Angel had thought that particular practice had fallen out of general use but maybe not in whatever world these odd vampires were from.  Jack's black t-shirt came no where near hiding the scar that said he was Baby Roxton's property.  Angel snorted slightly.  Yeah, posture all you want, boy.  She may call you husband but that scar on your neck says she's the one in charge, he thought with just a touch of malice.  He wasn't really sure which would be more fun: watching Spike take the tall blond down a peg or watching the bigger man beat Spike to a pulp.  He was mildly disappointed when Baby placed a restraining hand on Jack's chest.  Angel could have used a little bloodshed.

"No, not Jack.  Someone else," she said.

"Well, who then?" Spike demanded.  "I saw you two and aside from me, there isn't any one I can think of that could ever get between the two of you."  His blue eyes widened.  "Not René!  I mean, I know he threaten to.  Got a broken nose for his trouble."

"No!  Not René!" Baby said in exasperation.  "Well, I mean, not the first time.  Later.  And....  It's a long story, okay?"

Spike's frown held a good dose of suspicion now.  "Who then," he demanded slowly.

She muttered something and wouldn't meet Spike's gaze.

"Heh?  What?"

Baby looked the defiantly at the ceiling.  "Angel.  All right?  It was Angel!" she said in an angry rush.  "Angelus and I had a thing.  I married him.  It lasted six months.  We're divorced."

"We are not!" Angel said as he walked through the door.  "You divorced me.  I never divorced you and since I'm the one that did the marking in that case; we're still married."

The head of Wolfram and Hart goggled in amazement as a duplicate of himself stopped just inside the doorway.  The other Angel looked...good.  Angel had to admit that this clone or whatever was fit, trim, and looked ready to take on the world.  And it was obviously some sort of dimensional duplicate.  Aside from a thin mustache and jazz patch, it was identical to him in every way.  It even smelled like him right down to the soul.

Cordelia, a bloomingly healthy, happy-looking Cordelia pushed past the other Angel, backhanding that Angel on the chest with a resounding thump.  "Don't start."  She managed to look chic and stylish in her combat gear.

"Yes, dear," the other Angel said, apparently by reflex, and watched with a half-smile, half-frown as Cordelia sashayed over to Jean and hugged him.

"If you could move your big ugly carcass out of the way...," a very recognizable voice said as the duplicate Angel stumbled forward, obviously pushed from behind.

"Hey, want to try that to my face?" the duplicate said with a grin and shoved the second Spike playfully.

Angel blinked a couple of times.  One Spike was bad enough but now there were two?

"Any day, grandsire," the second Spike said and bounced on the balls of his feet, throwing punches at the air a foot from the mustached Angel and kicking out with a kevlar encased leg.  He was in full black combat attire right down to his boots and looked as happy as Angel had ever seen the Annoyance look.  This Spike's hair was longer, completely disordered, and only the tips were blond, the roots dark against Spike's pale skin.

The other Angel batted Spike's foot away and feinted a punch to his jaw while sneaking a left to Spike's stomach.  Spike danced away laughing and rebounded with more punches to the air in front of Angel's face.

"If the two of you don't stop this infantile silliness and move out of my way, I'll be forced to turn you into newts or salamanders or perhaps fluffy kittens."  There was no mistaking those cool, bored tones.  The educated Oxford accent was as familiar as Angel's own voice.  "You've been like this all day and it's become annoying."

"Good Lord," Wesley whispered as his duplicate appeared in the doorway.

As elegant as a man could manage to be in black-ops clothing, the other Wesley led a beaming Drusilla into the room.

"Ooo, kittens, my Wesley.  I like kittens," she purred.  Angel stared.  He'd seldom seen Drusilla in pants and certainly never in black military-style fatigues.  It was more than disconcerting; it was damned near surreal.

Wesley drew Drusilla's hand to his lips in a flawlessly graceful gesture.  "Then kittens they shall be, my forever love."

The new Spike ducked smoothly behind the duplicate Angel.  "No need for that, Wes, old man.  I don't fancy myself with whiskers.  Though Angelus might look cute," he added impishly.

"Hey!" the other Angel protested.  "I would NOT make a cute kitten."  He thought for a moment.  "Would I?" 

Cordelia laughed from her comfortable spot in René's embrace.  "You'd make an adorable kitten but I'm not sure I'd like you that way."

The other Angel smiled as he tried to reach behind him to pull Spike out of hiding.  "Stop that, you coward!  Get out here.  Some master you are!"

"Look, I didn't get to be ruler of the Southeast on my fighting skills alone you know," Spike said as he dodged away from the duplicate's grasp.

"No, you got there on René's fists and Jean's brains," the mustached Angel retorted.

"Exactly!" the second Spike said with a grin.  "I had sense enough to only turn the best!"

The duplicate Angel threw his head back and laughed.

The new Wesley, who Angel found deeply disturbing in not just his obvious closeness to Drusilla but in his poise and cool composure, laughed as well and slipped an arm about Drusilla's waist, drawing her close.  "Are you sure you'd like them as kittens, my precious?  They'll be terribly rambunctious."

Baby shook her head.  "Wesley, please don't turn your grandsires into kittens.  Think how disturbing it would be to all the grandbabies."

Wesley ceased nuzzling Drusilla's neck, much to Angel's relief.  It was making him nauseous.  "True.  What say you, dearest?  No kittens today, then?  Mother doesn't like the idea."

Drusilla smiled tenderly at Baby.  "All right then.  Sister's had a bad week.  We won't make it worse, my Wesley."

"Thank you, Dru," Baby said sincerely as she moved to their side.  She placed a kiss on Wesley's cheek.  "I need to talk to you about sending me to Wolfram and Hart without any warning, son."

Wesley wrinkled his nose at her.  "Purely unintentional, dearest.  The portals sought areas of mystical power.  We ended up in an ancient demon temple several blocks from here.  Nice place, actually.  It's masquerading as a pawn shop.  The selection of merchandise was quite interesting."

She accepted his explanation gracefully.  "Okay then.  Demon's all dead, I take it."

Wesley grinned.  "As Beau is so fond of saying, we walked on it hard."  The imitation of a Texas accent drew laughter from them all.

The final member of this new group sighed as he leaned against the doorframe.  "Honestly."  He looked about disdainfully.  His blue eyes were cold as he looked at the vampires.  "I don't suppose a man can get a decent drink around here." 

Even though he was a few years older, even though his dark hair was carefully styled and shorter than Angel remembered, even though he exuded a world-weary ennui, Angel had no trouble recognizing the young man.  Angel could have sworn his dead heart lurched the way it once had under Gwen's electric touch.  "Connor," Angel said, the word little more than a breath.

The sound of it was covered by Devereau's contemptuous sniff.  "If there's a drink to be had, I'm sure you'll find it.  It's been what?  Two whole hours since you sobered up?"

"Don't take that tone with me, boy.  Didn't that hick mother of yours teach you to show your father a little respect?" Connor said without bothering to look in Devereau's direction.

"You're not my father!" Devereau declared hotly.  "Kevin Niemczyk is my father.  You're a...a...sperm donor!"

Cordelia laid a gentle, calming hand on Devereau's arm.  "Connor, please.  You haven't seen Dev in weeks.  Couldn't you just try to be nice this once?" she said softly.

"Why, Mom?  You only called me because you need a human champion to help you to kill a demon.  I'm the closest you have to human."  Connor didn't bother to look at her either.  "Well, well, what have we here?  Not one Angelus but two!  So how are you doing..."  Contemptuous blue eyes met Angel's.  "...DAD?"

Chapter 4

Los Angeles, California
Wolfram & Hart Building
Saturday, 3:45 pm
Nov 1, 2003

Angel shivered.  There was so much contempt in Connor's voice it seemed to have physical form.  It wrapped itself around Angel and squeezed his strength away.  He sank down in his chair unable to look away from Connor even though the disdain that gleamed in the eyes of this alternate of his son made him want to hide away somewhere.  He was barely aware of Cordelia explaining to Charles and Wesley how Connor had come into being.  Angel tried to focus on her words.  There was no mention of any affaire between Cordy and Connor, no Jasmine, no Beast, no end of the world as Angel knew it.  Instead there was a gloss over of Darla's pregnancy,--"It was a prophecy thing"--brief mention of Spike saving Connor from Holtz, of Cordelia and Angel raising Connor as their son, of Cordelia becoming Angel's consort.  That got his attention.  "Consort?  You're his consort?" Angel said in near shock as he glared at his duplicate.

"Consort?" Wesley echoed.

"It means she's married to Angel...Uh, that other Angel," Charles answered.

"I know what it means," Wesley said in exasperation.  "I was a Watcher, you know."  He sighed.  "I was merely a bit surprised that Cordelia was willing to engage in a vampiric marriage ritual.  Actually, I'm rather surprised Angel was as well.  I understand it's not a pleasant procedure."

Wesley's duplicate laughed long and hard.  "It's incredibly pleasant,” he explained and grinned ferally at Drusilla, yellow sparks showing in his storm blue eyes.  Angel realized the Englishman was a vampire.  “And a procedure to be repeated any time you have an opportunity,"

"Which isn't now!" Cordelia said forcefully.  "Remember the rules.  Clothing stays mostly fastened and in place in front of Devereau!"  She glared at the two English vampires.  "And nothing kinky either because I know you two and you don't have to be naked to be kinky!"

René shook his head.  "She's never gonna forgive you for last Halloween, Wes.  Just face it.  You got some serious sucking up to do before you get off her list."

Drusilla's laughter cascaded through the room and she glided over to perch on René's knee.  "Pretty-Pretty, my Wesley can love Cordelia out of her sulks.  Too busy.  We've been too busy and too far away but the family can be together now.  We're going to all need to be together."  She settled her head comfortably on his shoulder.  "Pretty René, you'll keep me company while Wesley makes Mummy all happy again."

"O' course.  Anything you want, belle," René answered and Angel decided he really did hate René.  The self-satisfied smile on the Cajun's face was enough to assure that.

Connor was less than thrilled as well.  "Honestly, Aunt Dru!  Not him!  Any one but him.  It's nauseating."

There was nothing kind or good about the look René shot Connor before he leaned down to kiss Dru deeply.

"Stop it, both of you," Baby ordered softly.

"Yes, please," Jean seconded.  "Drusilla is right.  The family has been scattered for months now.  We're together finally and we need to end this constant wrangling."

Connor wasn't finished.  "There's a reason I'm never with the family.  The way everyone treats Beaumont like he's something rare and precious is one of them.  I..."

"Enough," the new Spike said gently but firmly.  "René is something rare and precious and so are you."  Connor looked somewhat mollified.  "I invited everyone home for Cordelia's birthday.  It's a time celebrate.  Your mother turns sixty in a few days and I think we all need to make it a good time for her, hm?"  There was a surety to his request that made the hair on Angel's neck stand on end.  This Spike had the same air that Jean DuValliere had, the air of a man used to being obeyed."

Connor sighed.  "Yes, Uncle Spike.  I suppose."

"René?" Spike didn't need to complete the sentence.

"Oui, Papa. Je serai très bon," René answered immediately but he didn't loosen his hold on Drusilla.

"Merci, mon fils," the odd, commanding Spike replied as he took Dru's hand and urged her from René's lap.  "Dear heart, why don't you keep Wesley out of trouble for a bit.  You know he can't stand being more than two feet from you for more than five minutes."

Dru smiled.  "He does get all cross if I leave him all alone." 

Spike saw her happily settled in the vampire Wesley's embrace before he turned to where Baby was sitting with Jack once more perched on the arm of her chair.  He leaned down and kissed her cheek.  "Are you alright, dove?  I keep feeling a bit of pain from you."

"Me and a wall had a little disagreement," she answered.  "The wall won.  I'm fine though.  Demon's dead; we're all in one piece.  I'm having a fairly decent day."

"Fair enough," he said before he straightened and looked at her companion.  "I don't have to tell you to make her go easy the next couple of days, I suppose."

Jack shook his head.  "No, sir.  Already made her promise," he said shortly.

"You're the only one who can make her do anything any more, Jack."

Jack grinned.  "I know that."

Spike turned and Angel was caught off-guard by the intensity of those electric blue eyes.  There was nothing whipped or puppy dog about this version of Spike.  "So, my dove says you're in charge here now.  She must be right; everyone downstairs was bowing and scraping to Angelus.  Didn't bother to even try and stop us coming in here."  He grinned and held out his hand.  "Nice to meet you.  They call me the Master."

It took a bit of explaining and a good bit of suspension of disbelief on Angel’s part but he believed he finally had who and what these strangers were sorted out.  The Master, this weird, commanding Spike was sire and liege lord to the Redeemed and actually did rule the demons throughout the Southeast U.S.  It didn’t take much in the way of investigative skills though to figure out that Spike didn’t do much of the actual ruling himself.  He left it to his subordinates, especially Jean DuValliere.  Typical of the man, Angel thought.  In his opinion Spike had neither the attention span nor the skills to run an empire.  Angel was just surprised Jean hadn’t challenged Spike and taken over.  Jean, René, and Jack were Spike’s trusted lieutenants though there was some hostility between Spike and Jack.  Angel imagined that was related to Mrs. Roxton who was also Mrs. Niemczyk.  Multiple marriages weren’t unheard of in vampire society on those rare occasions when vampires decided to pair up but it was usually a ruling master keeping a harem not whatever convoluted relationships this group seemed to have.

Regardless of how interesting those dynamics might be—and Wesley was about to burst with curiosity—Angel was far more interested in his own duplicate, Connor, Cordelia, and Devereau.  This other Angel, who seemed perfectly comfortable using the name Angelus and the title Master of Los Angelus and California, was also perfectly comfortable with Cordelia.  His wife, Cordelia.  That was hard for Angel to process.  He couldn’t deny that he’d had feelings for Cordy and if he’d allowed himself to dream he might have imagined a long-term relationship but somehow it had always been contingent on Shanshu and becoming human.  How could this Angelus rationalize bringing Cordelia into a vampire marriage?  How could he do that to her?  Still they both seemed happy.  Cordelia nearly glowed with contentment and Angelus smiled a great deal more than Angel himself did.  And then there was Connor.  Following his initial bitter words, Connor now seemed comfortable and at ease.  He was currently perched on the arm of Baby’s chair opposite Jack telling her about the second group’s fight with their demon.  Apparently it had been a set of identical twins that were attempting an Ascension and part of the strategy for defeating them had been separating them.  Not wanting to risk the populace of their own city and to decrease whatever power the demons might gain from the basic mystic power of New Orleans and its nearby hellmouth, the vampire Wesley had sent them into a different dimension.  And so they’d all ended up in Angel’s LA.  Angel wasn’t sure if he was angry or if he was grateful to see this glimpse of a world where things had turned out better for himself and Connor.

Angel’s attention was drawn to Devereau when the young man stood to accept a cup of coffee from Harmony.  It was easy now that Angel knew Devereau was Connor’s son to see the resemblance between them.  It was particularly apparent whenever Devereau decided to glare at Connor, maybe because Angel was used to seeing that same look of seething dislike turned on himself from the boy’s father.  There was no doubt that overall Devereau looked remarkably like René, though his skin tone and eyes were like Baby’s, there was still a resemblance to Connor.  There was also something about the set of Devereau’s jaw and the curve of his lips that reminded Angel of what he could remember of his own portrait.  He couldn’t really see anything of Darla unless it was Devereau’s delicate bone structure but then neither Baby or René were bulky individuals.  Angel suppressed an urge to sigh.  A grandson.  This is what a grandson of his might look like.  More importantly, this is what a grandson of his might be like.  Aside from his dislike of Connor and Eve, Devereau had been unfailingly polite to everyone.  He was well-spoken, intelligent, and charming.  Harmony nearly salivated whenever he smiled at her.  If she grinned inanely for no reason one more time and flipped her hair to attract Devereau's attention, Angel was sure he’d have to injure her.

Angel couldn’t help but wonder if his own Connor would marry one day and have children?  Would Angel have beautiful grandchildren like this young man?  He couldn’t block the sadness that arose at the thought that even if he did he wouldn’t have the relationship Devereau had with Angelus.  He watch Devereau roll his eyes with an indulgent smile as Angelus and Cordelia both reassured themselves that he was unhurt as a result of his battle with the demon and with Angel’s security force.  Still the drawn out protest of "Granddad!" as Angelus ruffled Devereau’s dark hair brought a smile to Angel’s face.  It was like watching a home movie of his deepest wish.

“They’ll get to you,” Spike said softly.  Angel looked up sharply.  It was his Spike.  The annoying former ghost grinned brightly.  “They show you what you can be.  Give you a hint of what’s inside yourself.”  He jerked his head toward the Master.  “After I met them for the first time, I figured that if he had the balls to be a champion then so did I.”  Spike had the temerity to wink at Angel before he wandered off to flop down beside Jean on Angel’s couch.

Angel shook his head.  He really needed to seriously hurt Spike one day soon.  Still the Annoyance’s words worked their way into his thoughts and refused to be dislodged.  Angel watched his duplicate talk to Charles Gunn.  That other Angel was smiling slightly as he held Cordelia’s hand.  Their fingers were twined with a comfortable negligence that only long years of familiarity could give a couple.  “They give you a hint of what’s inside yourself,” Spike had said.  Angel suddenly hoped that for once the Bleached Wonder was telling the truth.  He’d like to think that happy, loving father and husband was inside him somewhere.

Chapter 5

Los Angeles, California
Wolfram & Hart Building
Saturday, 6:40 pm
Nov 1, 2003

Angel had decided his visitors were crazy, need-to-be-confined-to-the-nearest-asylum crazy.  He had walked into Wesley's office to find them dancing.  Now, he had to admit that Wesley's office was suitable for it.  It was huge and that was one reason he'd moved them all there.  The fact that it got them out of his office was purely icing on that fluffy piece of cake.  But still, he didn't expect to find them waltzing - especially since there was no music.

He wasn't surprised to see Drusilla wafting about in the arms of her vampire Wesley.  He'd often seen Dru whirling and swaying to music that only she could hear.  And Angel had already figure out that the vampire version of his ex-Watcher was as nuts as Dru.  He couldn't claim he was too surprised to see Jack and Baby wrapped tightly around each other either.  He got the impression they were permanently joined at the hip.  And those two seemed just a little bit off any way.  What he didn't expect was seeing his own duplicate twirling Cordelia in the figures of some dance that seemed vaguely familiar.  And even more disturbing was that all three couples were moving in perfect rhythm while the onlookers nodded their heads in time with the dancers.  Fingers plucked and pressed at non-existent instruments while toes tapped out a beat.  For a few seconds Angel thought he'd been stricken deaf.  But he could hear heartbeats and soft breathing and the scruff of feet against the floor.

"What the Hell?" he murmured.

"Shh, cupcake," Lorne ordered softly.  "Is this not the most incredible thing you ever heard?"

“I don’t hear anything,” Angel whispered back and then felt stupid for whispering.

Lorne looked at him for a second before understanding lit his red eyes.  “Sorry.  Of course.”  He gestured to the vampires.  “They're all making music in their heads.  And they can all hear each other.  It’s sort of a mental jam session.  As long as I hang onto stud muffin here...”  He held up René’s hand.  The brunette’s teal eyes were closed as his whole body moved gently to the silent music.  “...I can listen in.”  Lorne grinned.  “Amazingly enough, Cordelia sounds great in her own head.  Oh Jack honey, that’s a nice riff!”

Angel frowned.  It appeared the insanity was contagious.  Before he could comment, there was a collective intake of breath and all movement ceased.  Then René, moving nearly faster than Angel could follow, drew his guns and was out the door.  The others were only steps behind him, flowing around and even over Angel like flood waters.  Lorne, gasping for breath, looked shocked.  "There's been an ambush outside the building.  They all felt it.  Someone's attacking Jean, Devereau, and Connor."

Angel burst through the doors of Wolfram and Hart in time to see Jack Niemczyk go down under a storm of bullets.  The former FBI agent had been trying to reach Devereau.  The young man's limp body was being pulled into the back of a dark pickup truck.  Even as René threw off his assailants, dusting them in rapid succession, the truck sped away.  Gunmen opened fire from a large SUV, sending René to the ground.  The Master leapt after it, landing lithely on the roof and hanging on to the luggage rack as he attempted to reach the driver.  The Expedition disappeared around a corner with the vampire still clinging to it, his black clothing flapping against his body in the wind of its passage.

Other vehicles filled with armed men and women spewed bullets at the Pride.  Jack and René were not the only ones down.  Jean DuValliere lay on the concrete walk with blood pooled about him while Connor half-reclined nearby, his face half obscured by gore from a scalp wound.  Wesley and Drusilla were providing protection and covering fire for the human.  Instead of the twin guns Angel was used to seeing Wesley wield, the English vampire was tossing fireballs in a rainbow of colors at the vehicles.  Drusilla glowed with ethereal fire using the luminescence to deflect bullets from Connor.

Paul Athenasius had planted himself between René and Jean, utilizing what little protection a utility pole offered as he returned fire at the attackers, diverting their attention from the two men.

Angelus was standing but there was a long knife embedded in his knee.  He and Cordelia were sheltered by a large bit of statuary, Cordelia firing her Makarov MR-445 Varjag with surprising accuracy.  Baby Roxton had eschewed cover of any sort.  She stood over Jack emptying her clip after the fleeing vehicles.  Angel was mildly surprised when Jack pulled her down beside him with a rough-voiced admonition of "Get down here, crazy woman!"  Even wounded, the blond tried to cover the redhead with his body.

As the final car full of attackers sped away one of Wesley's fireball exploded against the Explorer's rear and ignited the gas tank.  The SUV flipped as yellow fire lifted its rear from the roadway.

"Damn it all!  I didn't mean to kill them!  I wanted to interrogate them," the English vampire snarled in vexation.

"Wes, Dru, go after Spike!" Baby ordered.  "Paul!"

"Yes, liege."  The ancient vampire was already helping René sit up.  "I will help you with the wounded."

“What happened?  Did you see the leader?  Who took Dev?”  There was intense fear in Cordelia’s voice as she examined the cut on Connor’s head.  He winced as she gently probed the wound.

Jean groaned as Angel’s wounded duplicate helped him to his feet.  Blood covered half his face and dripped from his chin.  “Philip.”  He held his midsection tightly, the black of his t-shirt shiny with blood.  “That’s why there were no wooden bullets or arrows.  He wants us alive so we can suffer knowing he has Dev.”  There was deep fear and anger carved onto his face.

The duplicate Angel’s eyes flashed yellow as his jaw tightened in rage.  “No.”  He cursed fluently.  Angel had seldom seen himself that enraged.  Angelus held tightly to a white-faced Cordelia.

By comparison with Angelus’ rage, René Beaumont and Baby Roxton simply looked terrified.  René rose though he was having difficulty using his arms.  He had wounds in his upper arms and his right arm hung limply from a hole in his elbow.  Jack cursed along with Angel.  He was unable to rise from the sidewalk but held Baby close, their blood mingling into a pool around them.

Standing on the now quiet sidewalk outside Wolfram and Hart, Angel wondered about the reactions of his visitors as sirens screamed in the distance.  A mix of fear and rage was evident on all their faces.  Lips were drawn into hard lines or pulled back in snarls while eyes glowed with demon fire. 

The siren’s wail grew louder as police cruisers drew closer.  The authorities were answering by-standers' nine-one-one calls.  Eve tugged at Angel's sleeve.  "We have to get them all inside before the police arrive.  Our lawyers and security can take care of everything but not if there are people bleeding on the sidewalk.  We’ll tell them it was a movie shoot and hope none of them examine the bloodstains too closely."

With a nod, Angel watched as his employees carried those too injured to walk into the building while others assisted the more mobile.  The undead Wesley and Drusilla had disappeared.  Angel wondered briefly if he had been wrong in insisting the visitors stay.  He could smell the blood on the sidewalk as it began to congeal in the warm early night air.  Even though these distaff Aurelian vampires were not any of his git, the blood smelled of family.  By wanting to know more about them and asking them to remain had Angel contributed to the capture of the young man who might have been his grandson if he’d made just one or two different choices?  He couldn’t be sure and that thought annoyed him more than the turmoil these odd vampires were causing in his life.

Angel tried to put the circumstances of the attack together as he followed the wounded Pride inside.  He knew Jean, Connor, and Devereau had gone out to get food.  The trip afforded Angel his answer to why Jean seemed to be both human and vampire though the answer only brought up more questions.  Informed that Jean would go with the humans into the clear late afternoon because he had no problem with sunlight, Angel had sarcastically asked if he had the Ring of Amara.  Jean had laughed and said no, the Master had the Gem of Amara and that he, Jean, had simply married a goddess and was her sun lord.  Angel’s Wesley had nearly spit coffee all over Gunn’s lush navy silk suit and demanded to know if Jean meant a deva.  That theory confirmed, Wesley had contrarily declared such creatures completely mythological.  Baby had laughed and admonished him to tell that to Charlie, Charlotte, Grace, and Gabriel since they were all devas.  Angel could almost see Wesley thumbing through the encyclopedia in his head to pull up everything he knew about such things.  Angel himself remembered only vague legends of humans with blood more precious than any treasure, blood capable of giving the devas' vampire mates immortal, living bodies.  At least he knew now what had been niggling at the edges of his memory.  No vampire really believed the legend of the sun lords but it seemed Angel had one sitting in his office - or maybe two.  There seemed to be some connection between Jean’s deva and Jack Niemczyk.  Jack had nearly joined the food foray but decided at the last minute to stay with Baby Roxton.  Jack seemed to have a mild immunity to sunlight and Master Spike a complete one.  Angel found the idea deeply disturbing.  Vampires walking about in the daylight was just wrong somehow.

Still, immune to sunlight or not, all the vampires seemed to have an urge for food.  Vampires with a taste for human food - it was incomprehensible to Angel.  Of course they probably inherited it from Spike.  The Annoyance had always been weird that way.  They had seemed happy enough with the idea and when the two humans had left with Jean, Cordelia had commented that it was good they were going and maybe Dev and Conner would actually talk for a change.  René had only growled and Angelus had looked hopeful.  The trio had been ambushed on their return to Wolfram and Hart. 

Angel noted Baby Roxton was favoring her right arm as the wounded were ushered into Angel's office.  They had refused the offer of Angel's labs and medical facilities.  Angel couldn't say he blamed them.  He wasn't sure he trusted the labs either.  A few minutes proved that Angel’s technicians weren’t needed either.  It was obvious from the speed and efficiency with which the vampires tended each other that they were experienced at triage.  Wounds were bound as neatly and quickly as any doctor Angel had ever seen.  Paul dug bags of blood from a duffle and tossed them to the vampires.  As fangs sank into the plastic, the scent of humanity assaulted Angel in delicious waves.

At his angry growl, Baby rolled her eyes.  “Oh don’t get your panties in a wad!  It was all freely donated.  Our humans love us and make sure we don’t go on away missions without tokens of their affection.”  She held the bag aloft and Angel saw there was a note written on it in Magic Marker.  “One of my security force sent this.  I doubt he actually loves me but he feels bad because he isn’t here to look after me.”

Paul grinned.  “But there are real tokens of love here, liege,” he said and bowed as he presented a bag to Jean.  “With the compliments of the Living Isis, Your Highness.”  He handed another bag to Jack.  “And for you, my lord.”

Jean turned the bag over in his hands.  The blood inside was unusually dark and sparkled with a faint iridescence.  There was writing on the glossy surface of the bag.  In black marker someone had drawn a large heart and written ‘you’ beside it.  “Love you.”

Jean smiled tenderly.  “Charlie.”

Jack was looking at his own bag of the peculiar-looking blood.  A selection of X’s and O’s covered it.  “Damn,” he whispered with a fond grin and sniffed.  “She always thinks of me.”

“Oh that sweet child,” Baby said and squeezed Jack’s hand.  “To do that the way she hates needles!  Jean, I really am pleased you married her,” she declared.

Jean’s smile grew.  “So am I.”  He bit into the plastic and the most enticing scent Angel had ever experienced filled the air.  So this was what the legendary deva’s ambrosia smelled like.  Even as Angel stared at the sun lord, Jean’s wounds began to close and new skin form.

Conner snarled and threw down the bit of bloody gauze he’d held to his head.  “You can all enthuse over Charlie but I’m going after my son!”  He stomped from the room.

“Connor, wait!” Cordelia called.  “I’ll go, too.”

“No, you aren’t,” Angelus said and pulled her firmly back.  “You’re not going out there if Philip is loose.  You know what he does to women, especially Pride women.”

“Paul, try to find Connor,” Baby ordered.  She nodded gratefully when Angel’s Spike volunteered to go after the human, too.  Angel was on the verge of following them in their search when Baby’s next words gave him pause.  “Angel, we’re gonna need everything you have to help us get Dev back.”  He realized she was right.  He’d do more to help Connor and Devereau from his office than he could out on the street.  He hated that.  It felt so useless to just sit instead of actually do something.  He nodded and sank back into his desk chair.  It took him only a call or two to mobilize Wolfram and Hart’s best to find the people who’d executed an ambush on his doorstep.

He hung up the phone and looked about the room.  With him and Cordelia the only ones who weren’t injured, a dejected air settled over the room.  Wounds were tended quietly, all his visitors’ earlier vivacious energy had vanished.  Angelus held Cordelia close murmuring over and over that they’d find Dev and that he would kill Philip personally.  Jean bandaged René silently, pausing occasionally to touch the other man’s hand or pat his leg reassuringly.  The haunted fear that marred René’s beauty was so great that Angel couldn’t help but feel a twinge of sympathy for the man.  That same fear was strong on Baby’s face.  She leaned her forehead against Jack’s arm as they tended each other.  “How the Hell does Philip keep finding us!”

Jack paused in checking that the bullet wound on her shoulder was no longer bleeding and looked up sharply.  “You all know the answer to that.  Someone’s feeding him information.  There’s a traitor somewhere in the Pride.”  He winced as he tried to straighten his injured knees.  Deva’s magic blood or no deva’s magic blood, Angel knew it would be some time before the big blond would be able to stand.  It looked like an Uzi had sprayed lines of bullets back and forth across his legs.  “Give me a little time and I’ll find him for you,” he continued.  “It shouldn’t be too hard to find leads.  There are only so many people who know where we are going and when.”  He sighed.  “I can tell you already it’s someone fairly high up in the family or someone on Jean’s administrative staff.”

Jean nodded.  “Oui, I fear you are right.  The only way my perfidious brother could keep such close tabs on us is if he has help.”  He sighed.  “I don’t want to think that another of us has turned traitor but there is no other logical answer.”

Cordelia shook her head.  “Why?  Why would any one of us turn to Philip!  I mean, he’s Evil with at capital E.  He makes Angelus look like an amateur.”

“He does NOT!” her husband protested.  “He isn’t nearly in my league.  Spike and I can maraud rings around him.  He has no imagination.  Even when Baby was soulless she made him look like a fledgling minion and the way she is now she could...”  He paused when he realized everyone was staring at him with varying degrees of amusement and consternation.  Angel could have sworn the faintest hint of blush colored Angelus’ cheeks.

Baby was grinning broadly from behind her left hand.  “You know better than to impugn his reputation, Cord,” she managed to say around the giggle in her voice.  She quickly sobered though and the fear returned.  “But Jackie’s probably right.  He usually is, especially when it comes to something like this.  It’s the profiler in him.”

Cordy reluctantly nodded.  “Yes, he usually is.”  She looked around the room.  “So who is it?  If there’s a traitor among us, who is it?”

“I can answer that,” Devereau said as he limped into the room and gestured to the man and woman who followed him.  Angel hadn’t seen them before.  “Remy and Anne will be able to tell us who’s gone over to Philip’s side.”

Chapter 6

Los Angeles, California
Wolfram & Hart Building
Saturday, 8:25 pm
Nov 1, 2003

Even as Cordy leapt to enfold Dev in a grateful embrace, the anger Angel had first seen envelop his visitors at the mention of Philip’s name out on the sidewalk returned.  Guns appeared in the hands of those who could still hold weapons, all of them aimed unerringly at the newcomers who Angel assumed were the Remy and Anne Devereau spoke of. 

“Stand away from my grandson,” Baby said in what was quite possibly the most chilling voice Angel had ever heard.  The promise of leisurely, excruciating death lingered in every syllable.

“It’s okay, Mam,” Devereau said spreading his arms wide in a protective gesture even though Cordy was hugging him tightly.  “They saved me.  They got me out.  They want asylum.”

Baby didn’t seem to be mollified in the least.  “I’ll give ‘em asylum – one body part at a time.”

Jean DuValliere had placed himself pointedly between the helpless René and the couple with Dev.  “Move away, Dev.”  His growl sent a frisson up Angel’s spine, especially when it was echoed by Jack and Angelus.

“Papa Jean, Mam, it’s all right.  It really is.  They aren’t lying,” Devereau insisted.  “I’d be dead or probably worse by now if they hadn’t helped me.”

Baby pointed her gun ceiling-ward though her eyes never left the older, dark-haired man just beyond her grandson.  “Talk.  Give me one good reason not to rip your head off and use your entrails to redecorate Angel’s office.”

“Ah, they saved my life,” Dev repeated.

“That’s why they aren’t already dead,” Angelus snarled.  

“They’ve threatened you for your whole life and now suddenly they’re your saviors?”  Incredulity colored Jean’s every word.

“I don’t buy it,” Jack agreed.  “I’m thinking we should chop them into little pieces and send them back to Philip in a gift box.”

“Jack!” René protested.  There was a depth of hurt in his voice and on his face that shocked Angel.

“Sorry.”  Jack winced and said with uncharacteristic contriteness, “I forgot.”

“I don’t.  Not ever,” René answered with a visible shudder.  He looked ill in a way that had nothing to do with his wounds.

“Neither do I,” Remy said coldly.  He focused on the Cajun.  “There’s no way I can ever forget how you shipped my fiancé back to me in pieces.  I've never hated anyone or anything more than I've hated the monster that did that.”  Memories clouded his grey eyes and colored everything about him with dull bitterness and old anger.  An uncomfortable silence reigned before he sighed and confusion and regret replaced the anger.  “But I'm not so sure you're that monster anymore.”  The intensity of what he was feeling bled out and enveloped everyone present.  Even Angel felt it though he had no idea what any of them were talking about.  But it was obvious he wasn’t the only one in the room a past they had to live down.  René was staring at his useless hands, unable face Remy.  Remy made a step toward René then froze as Jean moved to block him.  “I don’t intend to try anything,” he assured the vampire prince slowly before focusing on the black-haired Cajun.  “You really are my cousin René after all, aren’t you?  You’re HIM, that thing that killed Anne, but you’re my René, too.” 

René looked up and nodded.  “Yeah.  That monster lives inside me but he don’t rule me.  I’ve learned to take his strength and use it without using his evilness.  So, yeah, I’m still your cousin René.”

Angelus was nodding.  “Just like I’m making my peace with Angelus, he’s made his with that other René.  Maybe you can, too.  One day maybe we’ll all be whole.”

Angel wanted to shake his duplicate.  There was no way to make peace with the Angelus inside him.  There couldn’t be... could there?  He shuddered at the thought.  There was no way he could ever make that monster a true part of himself.  How could he meet that sort of evil half way?  Still... But no.  He couldn’t imagine being free of the constant battle that raged in his heart.  Only by somehow destroying Angelus would Angel ever find peace.

Nonetheless Remy was nodding agreement with both René and Angelus.  “I think I finally realized that.  I’m tired of feeling this way.  It’s killing me.”  He addressed Jean.  “I’ve seen everything you’ve done.  Philip kept coloring it with ulterior motives but those motives never really surfaced.  Over and over we saw what Philip was doing and what you all were doing.  It just didn’t make sense.”  He reached for Anne’s hand.  “We expected Philip to be evil.  He’s a vampire after all.  We knew that when we made our deal with that particular devil.  We thought...well, he was the lesser of the two evils.”  He ran his free hand through his dark brown hair.  His temples were graying and there were lines etched on his pleasant face that had nothing to do with age.  There as a hunted quality to the pair that Angel had seen in those who lived life from day to day never knowing when it would end in a violent and unpleasant manner.  There was mystification, old but still active, in his smoky eyes that was echoed in hers.  “But over and over we heard about what you did.  We even saw some of it.  Helping people, raising families, working with mortals... not killing.”  He took a deep breath.  “You,” He included René with a tiny motion of his head.  “All of you, we couldn’t understand it.  We came to realize we were wrong about you all.  You’re not just beasts and killers.” 

Jack snorted derisively.  “You’re supposed to be a duplicate of my Remy but you sure aren’t as good a detective as he is.  It wouldn’t take him twenty years to figure that out.”

It was plain to Angel that Baby wasn’t interested in Remy’s thoughts on the matter much.  “I’ll grant you that you at least had reasons to hate us.  Considering what happened to your fiancé, that’s understandable.  From what I’ve seen it drove you crazy.  Hell, you may be damn near as psychopathic as I am.  I’d have come looking for us, too, if that had happened to Jack.”  She stopped abruptly.  “Come to think of it, that’s exactly what I did when they took Spike apart.  I carved that son of bitch up really nice.  It took weeks.”  She grinned.  “I always understood where you were coming from so I’m willing to cut you some slack.”  She jerked her head toward his companion.  “But she didn’t have any reason.” 

The statuesque Anne brushed back blonde hair that was lightened by generous silver strands and seemed only mildly uncomfortable under the vampiress’ intense stare.  “You took away my life,” she said defiantly.  Her pale cheeks were brushed with faint rose and her small mouth was set in an almost angry moue.  With her strong nose and Victorian features she was a good match for Baby’s similarly archaic though somewhat softer beauty.

“I didn’t take away anything,” Baby said angrily.  “You walked away from a good man who hadn’t done anything but give up his life trying to protect you.  You left my son in pain so deep he still feels it and you didn’t even have the decency to leave him a goodbye note!  We thought you’d been taken or killed.  We had no idea what had happened to you.  Not for days!”

The delicate rose on Anne’s cheeks flamed and spread down her neck and across what Angel could see of her chest.  “I called.”

Baby’s gun was pointed at the human woman again.  “A week later!  And then it was just to say that you wouldn’t be back.  It damn near killed Remy!”

It took Angel a minute to process that statement.  He put it together with something Jack had said earlier and realized that in their world there must be two Remys.  That had to be as confusing as Hell!

“He was a vampire!  He had you and Jack!  He didn’t need me,” Anne exclaimed.  “I saw him with you.  He was... a vampire.  All vampire.”  She shuddered.

“You left him because he was turned?  He let himself be turned to SAVE you!  You cold-hearted, ungrateful bitch!”  She took a step toward the woman but Devereau intervened, setting Cordelia aside as he stepped between Baby and the humans.

“Mam!  This is an old war.  We have bigger problems,” the young man said as he gently and carefully took the redhead in his arms.  “PawPaw Jack’s right; there is a traitor.”  There were lines of anger and sorrow aging Dev’s youthful beauty.  He glanced quickly at Cordy and Angelus and then away as the sorrow on his face strengthened.  “It’s Connor.”

“No!” Cordelia protested.  “That’s a lie.  If they said so, they lied!”  She glared at Remy and Anne.

Devereau sighed.  “They didn’t have to say so though they can confirm how long it’s been going on.  When we were attacked, Philip’s people took out Papa Jean first but Connor and I had good cover.  As soon as Papa Jean was down, it was Connor that hit me in the jaw, took my gun, and handed me over to Philip’s men.  I was awake the whole time.  I know exactly what he did.”  Rage at the betrayal set a muscle to jumping in his clench jaw.  Angel saw Baby’s arms tighten around him, her gun finally no longer trained on the newcomers.  “The man who is supposed to be my father turned me over to be sacrificed to whatever evil Philip’s currently worshipping.”

“No,” Cordelia said weakly, her complexion ashen.  Angelus’ pale face had taken on a green cast and he only shook his head mutely, the horror of what he was hearing too deep for him to speak of.

Jean sank down on the couch beside René softly echoing Cordelia’s disbelief.  If anything, the shock and horror on his face was deeper than Connor’s parents’.  Jack shook his head and sighed.  Angel noted that regardless of how sadness carved the lines about Jack’s mouth a bit deeper there was no surprise accompanying the sorrow.  Angel found there was no surprise in his own heart.  Perhaps there had been too many instances of heartbreak and betrayal on all sides for anything connected to Connor to shock him any longer.  With deepest regret he knew that there was nothing Connor wasn’t capable of if Connor’s hurt and hate were intense enough.  Like the set of his jaw, Connor had inherited that trait from Angel.  Both his parents had a talent and a need for revenge that sometimes burned on in Connor’s heart.  Angel prayed daily that nothing happened to reawaken that need in his son and that the new life he’d provided for the boy was free of turmoil.  Terror of what might have been and what might one day be was never too far from his thoughts.  He happened to meet Angelus eyes and saw a kindred emotion - guilt.  Angel sighed.  Then it was true.  Regardless of the world or of the circumstances, Connor was what Angel had made him.

“Why?” Cordelia wailed.  “Why would Connor do that?”

“Now that’s always been the question, hasn’t it, Mom?” Connor said from the doorway.  Angel wondered why they kept leaving it open.  People kept coming and going and hearing things and you never knew when they would appear and....  He shook himself mentally.  The strain of thinking of Connor and all that was and wasn’t and might be and might have been left him feeling fractured and his thoughts in chaos.  He was starting to sound like Harmony even in his head.  He clamped down on his hectic, racing thoughts and focused on one thing.  He’d been right.  He’d done the right thing.  Even with a stable family life with this other Angel and Cordelia, Connor had turned out so emotionally warped that he’d tried to kill his own child.  If that was true then Angel had made the right decision.  His son needed to live a normal life with normal parents as far away from the darkness as could be.  Connor needed to be as far from Angel as possible.  He’d done what was best for Connor.  Even if it meant he burnt in Hell forever as one of Wolfram and Hart’s toadies, it was worth it.  Consigning his soul to damnation was a small price to pay to never see his son looking out at the world with the hard, cold, disillusioned eyes this Connor had turned on Cordelia.

“Sweetie, why?” she was asking.  “Oh honey, I don’t know what Philip did to you but we can fix it.  I know...”

“Oh for God’s sake, stop pretending!” Connor interrupted.  “I’m sick of the constant pretence!  The eternal ‘we love you’ is nauseating.”  He looked about the room dispassionately.  Angel found Connor’s composure more chilling than the anger and hurt he’d seen on his son’s face as the boy threatened to kill a store filled with innocents.  There had been a plea for understanding and a need for affection hidden in that act.  The man standing so at ease in the doorway was simply... cold.

“But we do love you, Connor,” Jean said.  His confusion was as real as Connor’s lack of that same emotion.  “You’ve always been as dear to me as my own son.”

“Yeah.  And look how Alexander turned out,” Connor said with a sneer.  Jean flinched as though Connor had slapped him.  “Alex sees it, too.  He can’t wait to get away from the family.  He sees the pretence for what it is.  Love!  God, you all use that as an excuse to cover every fault and selfish impulse you have.  I learned that when I was fifteen.”

“I’ve said I was sorry for that, son,” Angelus said.  “I’ve said it over and over.  I don’t know what else I can do.”

Connor shook his head.  “Your little affaire with Baby wasn’t the big deal, Dad.  Since when are affairs and infidelities a big deal in the family?  You run off with Spike’s wife.  She runs off with you -- or René or Jack or whoever.  Aunt Baby’s made a career out of infidelity.”  He rolled his eyes at Jack’s snarl.  “Oh please.  If anything I respect her more than the rest of you; she’s never pretended to be good or saintly.”  He smiled ruefully.  “Aunt Baby may be the biggest slut ever turned but she’s up front about it.  How many steady lovers do you have, Mom?  Four, five?  Do you even keep count?  And you’re supposed to be so much better than Aunt Baby or any of the rest of them.”  He held up his hand.  “I know, I know!  Dad broke your heart and you turned to René for solace.  I remember.  You ran off with him the first chance you got and left your son all alone in a houseful of near-strangers.  But that was okay because you were heartbroken.  Everyone forgave you for it.  Hell, they all supported you.  While you were off finding yourself, Dad went off to Europe for years because he was heartbroken over you living with René or Jean or whoever.  But that was okay because he was brokenhearted.  So he comes home and everyone forgives him.  Everybody always has excuses.  And it’s always forgiven.  Everyone can screw around, hurt whoever they please, run away from their responsibilities, and it’s always forgiven.  Except me.”  He focused on Devereau.  “I made one mistake and suddenly nothing I did was good enough any more.  I got René’s bastard little girl pregnant and my life was over.”

René tried to stand but without the use of his arms to help him balance he fell back onto the couch.  “Don’t you mention Nina!  Don’t you even say her name!”

Connor smiled at Angel.  “See?  Nina wanted me in her pants just as much as I wanted to be there but she came out of it all a saint while I’m a pariah.  Because I’m not a Beaumont and I don’t worship René like I should.”  He grinned coldly.  “Philip’s right about that.  Spike doesn’t rule here; René does and always has.  So it doesn’t matter that Nina’s as big a whore as her mama and daddy, she’s a Beaumont and...”

Devereau’s fist cracked against the side of Connor’s face.  “Don’t ever call Mama that.  She's never been with anyone but you and Dad.”

The older man turned his head back slowly and moved his jaw back and forth experimentally.  He grinned at his son.  “Not bad.  It’s a damn pity you look just like René.  I might have liked you if you’d looked like Aunt Baby or even Dad but you HAD to look just like fucking Beaumont.”

“Is that your only reason for crossing over, Connor?” Baby asked coolly.  “You think we love René more than we love you?”

“Oo, you do that so well,” Connor countered and turned his attention to Angelus.  “Did you teach her that?  All that nice icy sarcasm covering hurt feelings?  Did you teach her to do that or is it natural talent?  A little of both maybe?  You should have taught me.  Maybe the family would have kept me all wound up in their love then.”  He turned the word love into something dirty.  “But you never had the time.  Too busy wallowing in your guilt and screwing your daughters.  Maybe that was the problem.  I should have been born a girl.”

Cordelia gasped.  “Connor!”

“That’s enough, Connor!” Baby said.  “The others are on their way back and we’ll talk about this when we get home.  We’ll get help for you.  There are doctors...”

“No thanks,” Connor said.  “I’m not going back.  I’ve had all I can take.  Besides I’ve seen family ‘justice’ and I’m not interested in being on the receiving end.  Philip may not have as much money as you do but on the other hand he doesn’t care what I do with it and he could use someone with my talents.  God knows he may be clever and lucky but he isn’t smart.  If he was, you’d all have been dead years ago.”

“You’re not going anywhere,” Dev said flatly.  “You’re coming back with us.  I don’t know if you’re crazy or just mean as Hell but you aren’t going to walk away from this!”  He reached out to take Connor by the arm.

The sharp report of the gun was too loud in the small confines of Angel’s office.  It overpowered Angel’s sense of hearing and left his ears ringing.  The sharp smell of gunpowder and the sweet scent of blood were a dual assault on his sense of smell, as great in their way as the gunshot was on his hearing.  Cordelia’s cry, tiny and anguished as she reached out to catch Devereau's falling body cut through the echoing violence of the shot.  It was followed rapidly by the thud of Jack’s body impacting Baby’s as mindless of his injuries he flung them both to the floor, his body covering hers protectively.  Remy grabbed Anne and hauled her bodily behind one of Angel’s couches away from the gun that Connor held.  Even as Jean placed himself between Devereau and further danger, kneeling so he could shield Cordelia as well as the young human, René threw himself toward his grandson.  Connor’s gun swung with unerring precision to cover the vampire he hated.

“These bullets are wooden, you know,” he said softly.

For the space of a human heartbeat there was absolute stillness.

“Don’t,” Jean pled softly.  Controlled panic wrapped that one word with nuances that were felt as much as they were heard.

“Don’t even think it,” Baby countered.  Her voice held none of the softness of Jean’s and her gun was still in her hand.  Hers wasn’t a plea, it was an order backed by the promise of swift retribution.

Connor grinned.  “Even someone as good as you are can’t hit me from there, Aunt Baby, though I know you would if you could.  But you don’t have the shot.”

“But I do,” Angelus said gently.  His weapon was steady as he continued.  “Put the gun down, Connor.  This has gone far enough.”

Angel tried to wipe the image of Connor with a detonator in his hand from his mind’s eye.  He didn’t need some mystic telepathic link to Angelus to know what was going through his duplicate’s heart and mind.  He’d already walked that mile.  Even though the man holding the life and death of a helpless René Beaumont in his hands wasn’t really his son that same icy hand he’d felt then gripped Angel’s unbeating heart again.  Painful and paralyzing, it squeezed hope from him.  Was there such a thing as karma?  Did fate really exist?  Regardless of what he did was Angel destined to be force to choose between the life of his son and the lives of others?  Without conscious volition, he whispered, “Don’t, please!”  He didn’t want to see this story again.  He wasn’t sure he could bear to see Angelus kill Connor and he wasn’t sure he could bear to see what would happen if he didn’t.

“Get Dev clear,” René ordered.  “Don’t argue, Jean; just do it.”  He stood firm, unflinching from Connor’s gun.

“Still playing the hero, Beaumont?” Connor said.  His knuckles were white on the grip of his Glock.  “I don’t think so.  I never did.”

“I don’t care what you think,” René said evenly.  “You got a quarrel with me, that’s fine but you leave Dev out of it.”

Connor laughed.  “I didn’t intend to shoot D... well, intent doesn’t matter.  How is the... how is Devereau?”  He didn’t look away from René.

“Bad,” Cordelia said tersely.  She didn’t look up from where she had her hands pressed tightly to Dev’s abdomen trying to staunch the flow of heavy crimson from his wound.  “The bleeding’s bad.”

Connor’s grin twisted ruefully.  “Looks like that stupid prophecy was about me and not about you, huh, Dad?  Looks like I’m the father who kills his son.”

Angel shivered uncontrollably at the words.  Then Connor’s gun barked twice rapidly and René collapsed to the carpet, his knees destroyed by the slugs.  Conner’s aim shifted unerringly to the fallen vampire’s heart and Angel saw him inhale preparatory to taking the shot.  Angel flinched back as though struck himself when another shot rang out.  The Glock slid from Connor’s fingers as a dark rosette blossomed on his shoulder and the familiar fragrance of his blood reached Angel.

Connor turned to stare at his father in disbelief.

“No.  It was about me,” Angelus whispered.  “Please don’t make me fulfill it.”

Connor stumbled away, his hand clasped to his wounded shoulder.  No one tried to stop him.  No one called out.  Angel watched Connor’s outline as he passed the fogged windows of his office, a red mark left where he steadied himself with a bloody hand as he stumbled down the hall.  There was no sound in the office but Cordelia’s gasping sobs and the thump of Angelus’ gun landing on the carpet.

Epilogue

Los Angeles, California
Wolfram & Hart Building
Sunday, 11:45 am
Nov 2, 2003

Even Angel breathed a sigh of relief when told that Devereau would live.  The bullet had nicked a vein and it was the bleeding that had been the threat to Dev’s life not the damage from the soft wooden bullet.  None of his major organs were hit and with his accelerated healing abilities, he would soon be fine.  Angel wasn’t so sure the rest of the boy’s family would fare as well.  While their physical injuries would all heal as rapidly as Devereau’s, there were emotional slashes open and bleeding on all of them.  Angel wondered if there was any healing possible for Angelus or Cordelia.  It was painful just to look at their faces.

Angel no longer demurred when his visitors stated their wish to leave as soon as Dev was ready for the stress of a trip through a magical portal.  He found he wanted nothing more than to see them gone.  His daily dreams had been populated with images of Connor ever since their arrival.  Some were pleasant but most were disturbing and violent and caused him to bolt from his pillows gasping and shivering from the force of them.  He hoped that the dreams would fade if his visitors were no longer there to constantly remind him of what had occurred.  He didn’t really hold much hope that would be so.

So as he watched lightning play across his lobby, taking the others to whatever world it was they dwelled in, he took a deep breath.  The scent of Connor’s blood still lingered faintly outside his office.  The air filtration system whirred and hummed but Angel doubted it would be effective in removing that despised smell.  He sat down behind his desk and pulled a stack of documents that awaited his signature toward him.  He picked up the pen filled with his blood and wrote his name on the first contract.  As long as he was tied to Wolfram and Hart Angel doubted if he would ever get the scent of Connor’s madness and his own failure out of the air.

~ La Fin ~