Coming of Age -- Again
RATING: Mostly PG-13. But one of the kids has a foul mouth.
SPOILERS: Angel S2, only gentle ones at that. This is set about 15 years in the future, and yeah, I know the dangers of doing that. But who cares? I had fun writing it.
DISCLAIMER: All Angel/BVS characters are the property of Joss Whedon, David Greenwalt, 20th Century Fox, Mutant Enemy, Sandollar, and Kuzui Productions, etc. and no infringement is intended.
Any others are a product of my own warped mind and years of procrastination. Okay, only weeks of procrastination, but you get my drift.
N.B.: The chapter division of this may vary slightly from the original posting. Okay, it varies a lot, but, hey. Blame the bushfires, eh?
*******************
Sunnydale High's head football coach, Rob Martin, a resident of the town for almost ten years, loaded the tape into the VCR and pressed play. Turning his bulky frame away from the screen, he pleaded with the other person in his office.
"I need your expert opinion. This year, every — and I mean e-ver-y — opposing team has sent players, plural, to the hospital. Not just for minor injuries, either. And last month two cheerleaders got hurt. They've been investigated; they play by the rules, nothing overt. Just ," he sighed, "I don't know. I don't want to endanger my boys, or the cheerleaders, but this is the state championship. State!"
Coach Martin crossed his arms over his chest and watched the tape, studying the teams' plays, but kept the other viewer in his peripheral vision. Understandably restless, the man combed his fingers through his hair, smoothed back the gray at the temples, steepled his fingers together as he leaned forward, then clasped hands behind his head. Finally, he clucked his tongue and nodded, causing the coach to pause the tape.
"In my so-called expert opinion, you're right," Xander agreed. Leaning forward again, he pointed to the players on the field, frozen in mid-offensive. "I'd say at least four of the team are demons. Explains how they got this far after being dead last five years running. We need to find out what kind and what to do about them. We'll get on it."
"Whatever, but it has to be soon. As you know, we play them in LA next week. And the defensive —"
Xander stood and gripped his friend's shoulder. "Rob, don't worry. My son knows how to handle himself."
~~*~~*~~
Angel looked down into the empty lobby and tried to center his chi, to muster all his energy for the grueling task ahead. It was ten to four in the afternoon and hell was scheduled to break loose in four, three, two …
On cue, a shrill "Aaaaangelllllll," rose from the depths below and the doors to the Hyperion slammed open with brute force.
Sometimes, even Eastern meditation can't help.
"David is being a pain in the —"
"Dare ya to say it, sissy," a gangly twelve-year old hissed from one of the sofas in the lobby where he perched himself triumphantly, his backpack tossed carelessly in front of the reception desk. "Double dare ya!"
"I was going to say arse."
"Sure you were. And Lorne is of the Guacamole clan. You're such a lying cow. Mooooo."
"Hit him, Sammie! " a skinny, young boy of seven encouraged with a giggle. He glanced up at her with a bright, energetic smile then air punched the older boy sitting in front of him. "Go on! Hit him!"
Sam hugged him to her side and smoothed his wiry, ebony hair. "Yeah, me and Steve'll take you on, David. Come on, you pansy wuss bag. Fight like a man."
"No way, José! You may be a girl but you're also a Watcher's brat."
"Hey, you guys. Settle down," Angel yelled. "Don't let your parents hear that … stuff spewing out of your mouths." He leaned over the banister as three more children paraded inside, transforming the hotel into an after-school special. The kind only people who'd spent years on the Hellmouth could understand.
"On second thought," he resumed his lecture, "why don't your parents ever hear that? How come I get this special torture? Do you plan this on the bus?"
Angel descended the stairs only to be passed by a haze of denim, purple cotton and a whoosh of long, wavy, copper-streaked auburn hair. He stopped and let his eyes follow in amazed silence, as the blur ran into a room with a heartrending — and overly melodramatic — sob and slammed the door. Windows, vases and coffee mugs rattled with the vibration.
Make that Sunnydale and Los Angeles.
"Okay, what's up with Fi?" Angel asked.
"Oh, nothing." Sam shrugged indifferently before gazing up at the ceiling. "She broke up with her boyfriend."
Angel's jaw dropped as he stared at the closed door. He turned and faced the sandy blonde now blowing bubbles with her gum. He tried to recall what he had done as a fourteen-year old then realized, thankfully, that times had changed.
"Again? She's only fourteen. How can a fourteen-year old break up with a boy three times in less than one school year?"
"Ugh, Angel," a petite brunette dismissed while she opened her backpack and pulled out a magazine. "You're soooo dense. She's cursed. You would be too if your name was Fi-o-nol-a. Oh, and she's fourteen and a quarter."
"You know, Ro-bert-a," Angel taunted, "I'm sure you have homework to do. Lessons in charity and civility, perhaps?" She stuck her tongue out at him. He took an involuntary step backwards when the déjà vu slapped him: Cordelia's eldest was growing up to be her spitting image.
"Okay, what I don’t get is why these people have to stay in our hotel," David said to Angel, his feet up on the back of the sofa and head hanging toward the ground.
"Because your mother invited them. And since when has it been your hotel? Get your feet off the sofa."
"Since, like, twelve years ago when I almost popped out in the lobby because you couldn't get the car started. Duuuh." David flipped over and beamed innocently. Complete with Cordelia's smile, he was the male counterpart to his sister, now engrossed in some article on the latest boy band. "I'm gonna go practice my Latin. Wesley asked me to inventory the magic supplies before those people get here."
Angel, the lone adult drowning in a sea of prepubescents, searched the lobby and conducted his own inventory. "Before you vanish, where's Peta?"
David shrugged and disappeared downstairs. Angel glanced at the others, who sat in what could be construed as conspiratorial silence.
"Dunno. She came in with us. See," Bobbie finally said, pointing to the little pink backpack without missing a beat in her objective — to pry a poster from the magazine without ripping it on the staples. "There's her school bag. Ouch."
"Right, but where is she now?"
"Probably in Aunt Cordy's make-up," Sam answered, pulling her chewing gum out of her mouth and wrapping it around her finger. "Where's Aunt Fred? She didn't go to that demon kill-off, did she? She said she'd help me with my science project, since they didn’t have running water when you were alive and Dad would blow it up. You know, like he did last month with that monster magic mojo-ball. Ka-blooooey! Carmen is still pretending to be mad about the cleaning the mess he missed."
"You know, Sam, you're really not funny," Angel replied. "Fred'll be back around six with pizza. She promised. Now, help me find your little sister. Your father will stake me if she goes missing again."
"I'm telling you, look for the gooey, girly stuff." Sam shot up off the couch and with a huff and snort, walked past Angel. Minutes later, she returned hand-in-hand with a tiny five-year old, who was dressed in a powder blue OshKosh dress, periwinkle winter tights and navy blue ankle-high boots with little pink and yellow flowers that lit up when she walked. Wesley must have let her choose the outfit, Angel thought as his gaze moved upward to her crooked auburn pigtails, which framed her carefully made-up face. Ruby red lips, rosy pink cheeks and incandescent blue eye shadow.
"Oh, boy," Angel sighed. "Peta, sweetheart, I don't think your Aunt Cordelia minds when you to borrow her make-up," he said as gently as he could, without laughing. "But you really should ask first."
"And get help," Bobbie added. "What?" she whispered and handed Sam the magazine. "She looks like a drag queen."
"Like Lorne," Sam giggled, then oohed and giggled again.
Angel moaned forlornly and looked at his watch. His guests were slated to arrive within the half-hour, bringing with them more chaos and bedlam. Their football team — in the state play-offs and doing 'smashingly well' to quote Wesley — was staying in one of the larger university's dorms, but Cordelia had 'graciously' invited the supporting throngs to stay with him.
Emphasis on the 'him,' not her. And not throngs, but still …
Of course he said he wouldn't mind. Would any sane person, alive or otherwise, have said differently if given the choice between noise, mayhem, teenagers with their parents and Cordelia's evil-eye? Angel'd suffered through years of Cordelia's patented angry silences, indignant glares and biting retorts. Add to that Fred's exuberant pleading and pouting, and well …
Was it any wonder he felt more married than the rest of them?
He knew the right answer; the only answer that would allow him to be around to attain his humanity. If he hadn't lost his chance at it — and the remnants of his sanity — before then.
That was before he found out there were demons involved.
Demons targeting schoolchildren, he thought and glanced around the hotel. Upstairs, the sobbing reached a fevered pitch, sure sign that 'Act Two' was winding down. Bobbie and Sam were in a corner giggling over some article in the magazine. Steve had hauled out his MegaGameBoy and was defending earth against an alien invasion with deadly abandon. David was predictably missing, undoubtedly practicing something Wesley hadn't taught him yet. Subconsciously, Angel prepared himself for the inevitable explosion and prayed it would come before Cordelia returned.
Children, the same age as these — his — children, who weren't really much younger than their parents had been when he'd met them.
So, of course he agreed.
Angel lifted Peta off the ground and over his head, and with a twirl placed her on the same sofa David had vacated earlier. With a stern(ish) wag of his finger, he warned her to stay put, but knowing the likelihood of that, ordered her older sister to watch her. He searched behind the counter and grabbed the towlettes. Pulling out what he hoped were enough, he returned to the sofa and began to wipe off the child's face. That task reasonably done, towlettes in the garbage, he turned back to notice Peta pulling out a brush from behind her back, her green eyes fluttering coquettishly. With a chuckle, he sat on the couch, put her down on the ground in front of him, undid her pigtails and started to brush her hair.
Just as Angel began to wrap the second, electric blue scrunchy into Peta's fine hair, he heard the announcement.
"You see, ladies, that is what being undead does to a guy. It emasculates. Tsk, tsk. How the mighty have fallen."
~~* 2 *~~
"Okay, we travel all this way and are they here?" Willow asked. Her hair was a darker shade of red, her green eyes framed by respectable glasses and the beginnings of crow's feet, but the smile was still radiant. "Not that we don't want to talk to you, Angel." Her voice carried more authority than Angel remembered, but in the jokingly (he hoped) derisive tone of her voice he heard the girl he met more than twenty years ago.
"They went, visionless, to check out a new demon hang out. Caters to the lunch-time, early dinner crowd."
Willow pondered his answer, then asked, "If Cordelia didn't get a vision, why'd they go?"
"Entrees tend to be customer service and helpdesk people."
"The problem is what, exactly?" Buffy teased. She saw Angel grin while he kept a watchful eye on one of the young girls who went to answer the phone. "And that means you get —"
"After school care. Yeah, off and on since the older ones started school." Angel smiled broadly and shrugged. "Believe it or not, I enjoy it most of the time. Not like I'll have my own."
"Never know," Buffy reminded him quietly.
"What's with the sobbing?" Xander asked, gesturing upstairs.
"Ah, well, one of the times I don't enjoy. Wesley's eldest just broke up with her boyfriend. A-gain. Think of it as a badly written play. Act Three should be over soon."
"Hard to believe he has three girls." Xander shuddered. "Yeesh, the horror."
Angel rose and brought the freshly brewed coffee to the table. "Not as difficult as believing you have a son on the football team."
"Hey! Varsity squad, I'll have you know." Xander looked at the little boy who helped bring mugs and sugar to the table. "Thanks, squirt." The boy ran off after a questioning glance toward Angel.
"Anya's genes," Willow explained. "He warms the bench so nicely."
"I was really sorry to hear about Anya," Angel said as he sat back down. "We all were. Never got the chance to tell you in person before now."
"Thanks," Xander said. "So, does Cordy ever see Bob the Builder?"
"Nope." Angel passed the milk to Willow. "He moved to Las Vegas five years ago. He called today, though. Can't take the kids again this summer. Gunn informed him that if he ever showed up in, he would personally feed his entrails to the nearest demon, no matter what kind."
"Oh-kay. Note: still do not mess with Gunn. That his kid?"
"Steve? No. His girlfriend's, she’s a nurse. He claims he's dating her only because she's handy."
"I'll bet," Xander chortled. "On second thought, maybe I don't wanna know."
Angel smirked in agreement, then searched the room. "Has anyone seen Peta? The little one in mismatched blues?" He looked at the gathered group with a pained expression when they shook their heads. "Excuse me," he said as he leaned back toward the reception area. "Sam! Where's your sister?"
Sam whispered into the receiver then covered it with her hand, "Aaaaaangellllll, I'm on the phone."
"With whom?" Angel stood up and pointed at the telephone. "And that's the business line!"
"Like you ever get business calls," Sam mumbled. "Ask Fi! This is crucial to my social life, Angel. Pleeeeeeaaaaaaase. This one's cute and he wants to talk to me!"
"That's Wesley's? You sure? She sounds like Cordelia," Willow teased.
Angel rolled his eyes then watched as the former haze of purple cotton and heartrending sobs emerged from her room to lean over the banister to survey the crowd in the lobby below her.
"Can't you just scream for her?" Buffy suggested quietly.
"No," Angel said. His concentration wavered as Fi descended the stairs in a manner worthy of Gloria Swanson. Making a mental note to take those DVDs back, he returned to the conversation at the table, while the teenager continued to saunter toward them. "She won't answer. Doesn’t talk."
"Really?" Willow asked, choking on her coffee.
"Not since her mother's death two years ago, no."
"Vampires?"
Angel snorted angrily, "I wish. Then I would've known what to do. Drunk driver. Wes handles it all pretty well, though. Sometimes too well." He saw the understanding in Buffy's eyes and turned his attention to the more immediate problem. "Fi? What can I do?"
The girl scrutinized those around the table, then looked at Angel. He held his arms open and she walked into the embrace. "Can you bite him?"
Angel snickered. "I could. For you. Just say the word."
She pretended to consider his offer, then sighed loudly. "No. I wouldn't have the heart to stake him, so I'd just end up having to look at him for the rest of my life."
"That's my girl," he said, dropping a kiss onto the top of her head. "Seen Peta?"
"Yeah. Our little nurse came in to check on me. She's watching cartoons." Fi pulled away and turned her attention to the far corner of the lobby. "Stevie! Batman's about to start."
"'Kay!"
"Angel?" Fi asked, turned her red-rimmed, green eyes to his. "Do you think Daddy would give him warts or make his hair fall out?"
~~*~~*~~
Wesley looked around the table. "Homework?" Heads shook in unison. "Liars."
"I did it in school," David mumbled, his mouth overflowing with pepperoni pizza. Wesley arched an eyebrow and waited for David to swallow his food. "Really," the boy continued. "And I started the inventory like you asked."
"Yeah, come on, Dad. We wanna," Sam whined. "Fred said she'd help me with my science project. It's not due until next week, anyhow."
"Mine'll take me five minutes max, Uncle Wes," Bobbie said. At his glare she added, "I swear on Dracula's grave."
"He hasn't one."
"Oh. Oops."
"I have some English," Fi said softly. "But it's just boring ole Jane Austen. No offense, Dad."
"None taken. Never met her." Wesley grinned to himself at the joke, since no one else seemed to appreciate it, then jostled Peta gently, "No homework?" She shook her head. "You're certain? No _Monster at the End of the Book_ or Snuggle Piggy and his blanket?" She giggled, but shook her head again.
"Right, then." He looked at his daughters, then smiled ruefully, seeing their mother's face, her Celtic features etched in miniature, gazing back at him. "If everyone's done with their pizza, then that should be enough time for them to have caught up since Giles' funeral."
"Yeah, but Angel didn't go, just you and Mom, so like, he might have lots to say. Hey, how come you didn't eat with them? We coulda eaten on our own." David grinned mischievously, and added, "I'm big enough to use a knife and a fork now. Mom says so."
Wesley smirked. "Charming. They graduated high school together." He noticed Bobbie's eyebrow quirk. "Angel and Buffy dated. So, no, he didn't go to high school."
"Lucky bastard."
"Roberta!"
"Sorry."
"They're nothing," Sam suddenly announced. Wesley narrowed his eyes. "Well, they don't even have a scientist or a vampire, do they, Dad? Let alone an ex-Watcher, 'cause Mr. Giles went home a long time before … Anyway, we got all that plus Gunn. Gunn kicks demon ass and he makes the fabest weapons."
"We're not in competition, Samantha. Buffy is the Slayer, and they are your elders."
Peta shook her head exuberantly, almost toppling off her father's lap.
"See, Peta agrees, Dad!" Sam said pointing at her little sister, who continued to shake her head, pigtails whipping around. Wesley put a hand on the top of her head and held her still.
"No. She means Buffy can't be the Slayer," Fi corrected. "Faith was after her, and then those others. Right, petal-puss?" Peta nodded as heartily as she had disagreed.
"Not the issue, girls. They've asked for our help, and we've agreed, so there will be absolutely no snide remarks," Wesley directed, mostly at his defiant daughter. "From any of you. Understood?" He waited and watched as Gunn quietly came into the kitchen and stood, arms crossed over his chest, in front of the door. "I asked —"
"Yes," most of the children answered. Sam pouted and Peta nodded again, with a peek at her older sister.
"Wes, I need to talk to David and Sam," Gunn interrupted. "You might want to stay."
Fi looked at her father and then quickly glanced away. Wesley sighed and watched as Sam elbowed David angrily in the ribs. "Right," Wesley said. "Fionola, please take Peta upstairs and get her ready for bed. Angel will tell you which suite we're in. Peta, do as your sister says and do not get into mischief or cosmetics. I heard about that today. Roberta, you'd best get your mother." He glared at Sam. "And just because there are guests here this weekend does NOT mean you won't be punished, if necessary."
"This is your fault," he heard Sam growl at David. At times, Wesley couldn't tell where she'd picked up her idiosyncratic traits. She was too enamored with Gunn to notice, let alone pick up his bad habits. Fred had been elevated to the pedestal of mad scientist, which in Sam's eyes was just a fraction below Lorne. Wesley was, after all, just Dad. It assuredly was not something she had picked up from her mother or me, Wesley thought, neither of us ever growled in front of the children. So, that had to be either Cordelia's or Angel's influence, he deduced.
Gunn pulled out a chair, turned it around and sat down, across from the two miscreants. Cordelia came in, and with a 'not again' groan, joined them, sitting to Wesley's left.
"It's the Inquisition," David mumbled.
Gunn leaned forward and tried his best to be intimidating. "Because of you two, I'm in a hell of a lot of trouble. Aesha is really pissed off!"
"I told him!" Sam screamed. "I said to just beat the holy fucking shit outta them!"
"Samantha Erin Wyndham-Price," Wesley warned, teeth clenched. She had indeed picked up some of Gunn's less auspicious habits.
"Well, I did, Dad. I woulda just roundhoused them into the ground. But not David. Noooooo. He had to set them on fire."
Gunn stared at them. "You're very lucky Stevie thinks the world of you. He corroborated the busdriver's story."
"Corroborated is good, right?" David asked, eyes searching Gunn's face for a small reprieve.
"What story?" Cordelia asked, pointing a wine red fingernail at her son. "If you started a fight…"
"I didn't! Honest, Mom!"
"Aesha was told you went to defend him," Gunn explained. "But it's how you defended Stevie that she's upset about."
"Meaning?" Cordelia asked. "David, spit it out!"
"These two high school guys —"
"Three," Sam corrected. David turned to her. "There were three, but when the one's backpack caught on fire, he disappeared."
"Fire?" Cordelia repeated.
"Disappeared?" Wesley repeated.
"Fire. Disappeared," Sam repeated.
"I didn't put anybody's backpack on fire," David remarked, trying to remember. "Nope, just that —" He looked at the adults' faces. "What? They were gonna beat up on Stevie, and they woulda gotten Peta, too. So, I saw and I tore outta the bus and I ran into one, Sam smashed the other, Fi and Judy McMahon got the little kids on the bus. Then they tried to whale into Sam, so I did something and put their pants on fire. I read it in one of the books in the office, how to do it, but I only saw two, and I couldn't overtake them, they were huge, and —"
"David," Wesley said softly. "Do not mess with elementals." He saw the boy nod sheepishly. "Now, after they caught on fire, what happened?"
"I dunno. The bus driver said he thought one of them had been smoking and his cigarette musta fallen. But I don't, well, I don’t know."
"We drove off, Dad. But that one wasn't there anymore. And they weren't from our high school, either."
"How do you know?" Gunn asked.
"They had their football jackets on."
~~* 3 *~~
Tara walked slowly up the steps, curious about the rhythmic thumping she'd heard while she and Caitlin were escorted to their suite by a teenager who would blossom into a lovely adult. But during the tour, the girl acted in what Tara considered atypical for a teenager: she chattered floridly about the 'romantic' hotel and how 'sweet' it was to have visitors; she directed Caitlin's attention to the strangest parts of the hotel with stories of romantic interludes and murderous liaisons. Any queries about the day's events were deftly evaded by a question about Sunnydale's football team. If Tara hadn't been reassured by both Willow and Buffy that the girl was Wesley's child, she would have sworn Fionola was a ghost from the Silent Screen era.
Tara calculated exactly where their rooms were and turned right. At the end of the hallway, a young girl with sandy blond hair sat on the ground, angrily chucking a tennis ball against the opposite wall. Each toss was accompanied by a series of grumbles and growls, and the returning ball arrived into the awaiting hand with a hearty, and undoubtedly painful, thwack.
"Stupid jocks," the girl snapped, flicking her wrist and sending the ball once more across the hall. "If I see them, I am going to so kick their noses down to their butts." Toss. Thwack. "If anybody rats —"
"You must be Samantha," Tara said hesitantly. The girl stopped and glowered at her. Tara held out her hand. "I'm Tara. Willow Rosenberg's —"
"Partner. Yeah, I know." The ball was thumped against the far wall. "You shouldn't be up here. This is reserved for grounded kids only."
"Oh." Tara sat down anyway. "I heard a little bit about the bus stop. You got grounded for that?"
Sam shrugged nonchalantly. "Nah, not for that. For saying 'holy fucking shit' to my Dad. Oh, and calling him a prick when he handed down my real punishment for not telling anyone we beat up those guys and because I knew David was mucking with spells and stealing ingredients." She took a breath and pitched the ball. "David got off soooo easy. He can't get into the magic stuff without Dad or Angel bein' around. And me, I get a night in hell."
"Wow, it must be some punishment." Sam grunted her agreement and angrily tossed the ball again. Tara smirked, then prodded a little deeper. "What's your dad making you do?"
Sam threw an ill-humored glance to her left, then mumbled, "He's making me go to the stupid school dance tomorrow night."
Tara used all her years of practice to bite back the laughter. "Oh," was all she could manage.
"He treats me like a little kid. Well, I'm twelve, you know."
"I heard. He told us all about you. Glowing praises about your intuition and intelligence," Tara offered, hoping she'd hit the right chord with the girl.
Sam narrowed her eyes. "He wants me to be like Fi and I'm not. Fi's a perfect girl. She wears dresses, and is disgustingly sweet and aaalllllll the guys like her. Don't know why she wastes her time with Johnny Jockstrap. Peta's gonna be just like her. She's already into Aunt Cordy's make-up. And, and she flirts with Angel, and he eats it up. Dead dork."
Well, that was a virtual flood, Tara thought. "And you don’t like that …girl stuff?"
"It's a waste of time. All that powdery, smelly crap." Sam shrugged. "Aw, I guess it's okay. Mom used to use it when she got dressed up. Dad said she didn’t need it." Sam sighed and tossed the ball again. "I'd rather guys paid attention to other things than my face or my boobs. Ain't got much, anyway."
"You will," Tara said quietly. Sam snorted. "Seriously, Samantha. All in good time."
"Whatever. I bet Dad wishes I was a boy."
"He doesn't. He's just really worried about you and your sisters." Tara paused, added two more points to her tally, and waited while Sam threw the ball again, gently this time. "Especially after today. The guys who attacked your little sister and your friend may have been demons from the football team we're supposed to play. Do you remember anything about them?"
"Not really. They were big, but not as big as some of the demons that go to Caritas. But you know," Sam threw the ball again, "jocks all look alike."
"Sort of non-descript he-men, then." Sam nodded. "Taller than Angel?"
Sam snickered. "Gunn's taller than Angel, but yeah. Bulkier, too." She stole a glance at Tara. "Did you meet Willow in high school?"
Tara's brows knitted together. "No, college. I didn't go to Sunnydale High. Why?"
"So, you didn't know Angel? You know… when he was dating her?" She saw Tara raise an eyebrow, then shake her head. "Oh. She was lookin' at him funny, and then they disappeared. Together. She better not hurt him, or —" Sam stopped and tossed the ball angrily. "Did you know Mr. Giles?" She noticed Tara's soft smile. "Dad liked him lots, too. Was really sad he died, but Aunt Cordy once said that they were all wicked mean to Dad when he was a Watcher there. Dad said it was just a misunderstanding, but I dunno. He lets everybody off too easy. Well, except my grandfather. He screamed at him to go to hell when he was here for Mom's funeral. Do you think they ever said sorry or anything? To my dad, I mean."
"Hmmm," Tara said. "Probably. Otherwise, he wouldn't have offered to help us, would he?"
"Sure he would. He'd ask everybody, then they'd all say 'yeah, sure.' Or Aunt Cordy would scream in pain and collapse with a headache and wham, bam, Angel Investigations to the rescue! They're the fabbest at what they do, even if it isn't always very nice. Well, except with cats in trees. If Fred's around, she'll get the cat down, but Dad's hopeless like that, and Angel's got this vampire thing going, and Cordy's got shoes." Sam rolled her eyes and sighed. "I just wish he didn't treat me like a baby. I could help lots. He lets Fi help."
"Maybe he just needs convincing that you're not a kid, and that you can be trusted to help."
Sam chewed on the inside of her cheek. "How?"
"Let's start with the dance." Sam made gagging noises. "Caitlin and I can help you get ready, if you want. Do you have a date? Or don't you need one?"
"Pfffttt. It's a stupid fundraising thing where you go with your parents. We're raising money for new computers. Dances are sti-yupid."
"Yes, perhaps, but it's your punishment, so take it like an adult. And we can make you look like you mean business. Trusting business."
"Yeah, okay," Sam agreed with a shrug. "But I am so not wearing a dress."
Tara smiled and rose to her feet. "I'm sure we can figure out something else. After school tomorrow."
"Well, okay. But I won't have a good time." Tara smiled again and nodded before she started downstairs. "And I'm not gonna like you people," Sam added under her breath.
~~*~~*~~
"She bought it?" Fi whispered when Sam came in and flounced on the bed. "And the warning to back off Angel?"
"All of it. Hook, line and sinker," Sam said as she crawled under the covers. "She was fishing-like, though. Creeped me out. Did you get anything out of them?"
"Not really, just that they're scared for the team from Sunnybale-out. Fifteen more minutes, then I'll go send Bobbie out. Dad go talk at Mom?"
"Yeah. I saw him going when I was smashing the ball in the hallway. That was a good idea, Fi."
"Figured it would be. Pouting and sulking puts Dad off, he pretends to ignore it." Fi rolled her pillow up into a ball and hugged it under her chin. "Today really upset him, I guess. Maybe these people coming here. Plus you calling him a prick in front of them."
"Yeah, I know. I goofed majorly, but he's making me go to that stupid dance. What's-her-name in on it?"
"Caitlin. Yeah, she got the hints right away. Aunt Cordy invited her and one of her Moms to your dance. That guy," Fi rolled over, "Xander. Did you notice him checking out Aunt Cordy? Anyway, he said I could go with him to football practice tomorrow since there's that parent-teacher thing and high school's out. So, I'll talk to his kid. See if he'll help."
"Okay. But they'll know you're the boss, right, Fi?"
"Yeah, no question. See if the coast is clear."
~~*~~*~~
Bobbie tiptoed down the hallway, stopping to peer around the corner before darting to the other side. Positive no one had seen her, she took a deep breath and continued on her assigned mission. Once at the threshold of her destination, she tightened the belt on her bathrobe, messed up her hair, slumped her shoulders and crossed the first two fingers on her left hand before unceremoniously opening the door.
No one could be seen. Which could be a good thing, or a very, very unspeakably gross thing.
"Angel?" she cried out meekly. "Are you here?" she asked, adding a little hiccup at the end for effect. She heard the muffled voices, crossed her fingers tighter and waited. Angel sauntered in from the next room, looking exactly the same as when her mom had marched David upstairs to bed. Bobbie let go of the breath she'd been holding and uncrossed her fingers.
"What's wrong?"
"I can't find Mom and I don't feel good." He looked at her, searching for visible signs of illness. I've the plague, she cried silently, please let me puke on you to prove it. While they stood there, meters apart, Buffy walked in and went over to place her hand on Bobbie's forehead.
"She has a low grade fever. Probably just the excitement from this afternoon." Buffy turned to Angel, who had a glazed look of total incomprehension on his face. "Plus pizza for dinner and then the ice cream sundaes you made the kids, Angel."
Don't forget the blowdryer Fi put me under before I left the room, Bobbie was tempted to yell. She looked pleadingly at Angel instead, her lower lip curled downward and starting to quiver.
After another glance at Bobbie, Angel turned sheepishly to Buffy and shrugged his shoulders. "The kids don't stay overnight much anymore. Well, not when I'm around. Fred and Lorne usually babysit them, so I don't get … wait a minute." He chuckled. "Why am I justifying myself?"
When Buffy snickered and returned to the dining room, he held his hand out, waving Bobbie to join them. "Come on in, Bobbie. Your mom went with Willow to Caritas to see if Lorne has heard anything. She'll be back soon."
Bobbie skipped to his side and hugged him tightly while he led her into the other room. He held a chair out for her and waited until she sat down, then sat next to her. Buffy studied the young girl, a small, knowing grin creeping onto her face.
"Did you see what happened today, Bobbie?" she finally asked. "At the bus stop."
"Nah." Bobbie fidgeted. She scooted closer to Angel, who put his arm around her. "I was sitting on the other side, next to Mindy Pasternak. I heard David scream that some big guys pushed Stevie down, then he and Sam tore off the bus. Stevie was crying hard, so Fi made him sit with her."
"Did you see anyone or anything else?" Buffy asked.
"I did see a flash of blue light before Sam and David came back on the bus." Bobbie looked up at Angel. "But that's it. Honestly, Angel." She focused her attention elsewhere, trying to bring tears to her eyes like Fi had taught her, while Angel annoyingly mussed her hair, giving her snarls that would take hours to brush out. "Do you think they were demons, Angel?" she asked, tears threatening to spill over.
Angel looked down and smiled reassuringly. "Probably, Bobbie. But we'll get rid of them so they don't bother you any more."
"Of course you will," Bobbie replied, hugging him again. She glared pointedly at Buffy. "That's what Angel Investigations does."
Buffy bit her lip to keep from laughing. All the child needed was a blinking neon sign.
~~* 4 *~~
"Thought you'd be up here," Cordelia said and stepped out into the chilly night air. "I brought some extra glasses." She sat down and leaned against the wall, then held out a crystal goblet. "I love it when you guys stay here. The hotel gets a fresh minty smell." She took the filled wineglass, sniffed the bouquet of the dark red liquid then turned to him.
"It's normal, Wesley. Trust me."
He twirled his glass and watched the wine roll around. "I know. She's just like her mother. Right down to the smart mouth and mean right hook." He sighed, then drank. "That's the real killer, Cor."
Cordelia watched him refill his glass, then take an immoderately large gulp. "You gonna be okay?"
"Yes, eventually, thank you." He turned his head and grinned. "Xander looks … fab, according to all my girls."
"Shut up." She took a sip of wine. "I give Fred five more minutes."
"Less." Wesley filled the third goblet and held it aloft just as the roof door opened.
"Thought so," Fred said, taking the glass and nestling in on Wesley's right. "Y'all're gonna catch pneumonia up here this time of year. Good thing we have some Chicken-n-Stars soup."
"I told you. Up here with his harem," Gunn teased, leading Willow and Tara onto the roof. "We brought more glasses and an extra bottle when we noticed the pinot noir was down to two." He sat down next to Cordelia and gave her a comforting nudge. "Look, they did the honorable thing. All the kids are safe. They just went overboard and got scared, so they didn't tell anyone."
"I don't think so." Cordelia sighed. "This is one time I wish I'd gotten a vision. Those demons went after little kids. MY little kids. Okay, technically not mine, but I was in the lobby when Peta popped out. At least I didn't find an excuse to leave the room like two men I know."
"We get ya," Gunn took the offered wine with a nod. "So, what do we know?"
"Very simple," Wesley answered. "We know bloody bugger all."
"That's not true, Wesley," Willow corrected. "Yes, the video tape is unclear, but we do know they're not vampires."
"Bully for us," Wesley snapped. He groaned, closed his eyes and rested his head against the brick wall.
"How long's he been up here?" Gunn whispered to Cordelia. She held up two fingers. "Whoa."
Gunn shot a glance to Fred who nodded and politely sipped her wine, grimacing at the dryness. Cordelia scanned the rooftop, then arched her eyebrow. Fred shrugged. Cordelia's head snapped around to Gunn, who also shrugged. Cordelia started to rise but, without opening his eyes or raising his head, Wesley grabbed her arm and gently held her back. At that moment, Angel stepped through the door and grinned at the impromptu picnic. Cordelia's eyebrow quirked again when she glared at the door, causing a snort of disgust to erupt from Angel.
"Okay, what's going on?" Willow asked. "Non-verbal communication is bad enough with teenagers, but you guys are driving me crazy."
They five looked at each other and shrugged in unison. Tara chuckled and returned to her wine. Buffy came onto the rooftop and after a curious glance around, sat down where Willow patted.
Wesley cracked open an eye and smiled. "Right, now that the semi-adults, with the exception of Xander who is attending some parental function, have assembled together in one place, let us review what we know about these demons." He looked around. "Thank you for your time. That is all."
Angel stared at him. Cordelia held up two fingers. Angel tched and leaned against the doorframe. "Wesley, to quote your middle child, sober up and get on the train. Yes, the video's quality was questionable, but we know at least two things about them."
"They're not vampires," Willow and Buffy said together.
"Okay, three things. They're afraid of, and possibly destroyed by fire. Two, they've only been seen with that team, at those games. No where else."
"Until today," Gunn corrected. "When they went after Stevie and Peta."
"Right," Willow chimed in. "But why them? There are no other reports of violent incidents except at the games."
"They're out of control? Gang related?"
"Greeeaaattt," Gunn said. "Just what we need — more demonic gangs in LA."
"What do they look like?" Wesley finally asked. "'A football player' is hardly anything to go on. Do you know how many more possible demons that means in this city?"
"David just said they were large and had blueish-black hair," Cordelia answered. "He was too upset and tired to remember more."
Wesley leaned over. "Grounding him for life was rather harsh."
"Shut up, you. You're making your tomboy daughter go to the dance."
"Oh!" Tara interrupted. "About that. I promised to help her get ready, if you don't mind."
"Oho, not at all," Wesley admitted. "Going with her to get her first bra was traumatic enough."
"I said I'd go with her," Cordelia complained.
"Post-vision headache."
"Oh. I'll take Peta, then. Vision willing."
Wesley nodded at the offer. "What else did Sam say, Tara?"
Tara laughed softly and started to count off her tally on her fingers. "She says you’re the best but you let people walk all over you, she's jealous of Fionola, crushing madly on Angel —"
"She is not!" Angel interrupted. Tara nodded while Buffy hid her laughter behind her wineglass. "Not Samantha, nah-unh. I've known her since she was in utero. No way does she have a crush on me."
"Does she tease you a lot?" Tara asked. "Follow you around? Ask you silly —"
"Yes, but she's a kid!"
"That's another thing," Tara said, looking briefly at Wesley, before returning to focus on Angel. "She's tired of being treated like a baby. Face it Angel, she has a crush."
Angel shook his head. "Sam adores Gunn, sure, that's obvious. But me? That's like saying Bobbie has a crush on me. Get serious, Tara."
Buffy choked on her wine. After she cleared her throat with the help of small, sharp pats from Willow, she saw everyone watching her gasp for air. Shaking her head in disbelief, she stared up at Angel. "You cannot be that dense, Angel. The child was all over you. She could carry a flashing sign and not be more obvious."
"Bobbie? My Bobbie has a crush on Angel?" Cordelia asked, handing Wesley her glass for a refill. "Hurry up, I think I need another."
Buffy nodded. "She came in when she couldn't find you, Cordelia. Minor fever, stomach ache. Wouldn't let go of Angel and made a unsubtle point of telling me to back off."
"She said no such thing. I was there, Buffy, I'd know."
"Actually," Tara said quietly. "Sam implied the same thing to me about Buffy."
"Raise your hands if you think this is starting to sound like a coordinated effort," Gunn said. Fred, Tara and Willow raised their hands. "Good to see I'm not alone."
Wesley cleared his throat. "Excuse me while I break up this incredibly exciting discussion of our daughters' emergent hormones, but did Sam say anything else of use in fighting demons, Tara?"
"Not really. She said they were jocks and that they all looked alike."
"Great," Cordelia moaned, then noticed the wide-eyed look on Fred's face as she clamped her hands over her mouth. "Uh-oh, she's gonna explode, boys! Out with it, Fred."
Fred looked around and slowly lowered her hands. "Dolly Demons." She saw the blank stares.
"They're clones."