When Demons Attack

Wesley walked in from the brisk morning air, repeatedly stopping to gaze back at the front doors.

"Why does it sound as if we have a plethora of felines fighting in the alley beside the building?" he asked as he crossed the lobby.

Cordelia sat at her desk, drinking coffee and reading the day’s papers. "Dunno," she said. "Plethora mating season?"

"Pleth—" Wesley groaned and scowled. "Hardly think so, Cordelia." He took the message from her outstretched hand and read it over while she went to put her empty mug aside. "Where’s everyone else?" he asked.

She answered with a disinterested shrug after she turned around. Suddenly, she stopped, grabbed his arm and jerked him roughly to her side. "Did you see that? Behind the stairs. A purple … thing!"

"Uh-huh," Wesley replied, trying unsuccessfully to remove himself from her death grip. "What did you eat at that party last night?"

"Just go look!" Cordelia screamed and shoved him toward the staircase when he hesitated.

Stumbling, Wesley glanced back, his smile taunting her. "Psychedelic mushrooms? Slightly dated prawns?" He whistled as he investigated the stairwells, the elevator, and the farthest, dimmest nooks of the lobby.

"Well?"

"Nothing." He patted her trembling hand and noticed the menace in her eyes. "Perhaps one of the plethoras came inside," he added with a smirk, trying to lighten the atmosphere.

"Don’t humor me," she threatened. "I know what I saw."

Wesley started to retort, but grabbed her hands instead. "I’m sure you do. In all seriousness, have you had any further repercussions from your visions? Perhaps—"

"Oh, just forget it!" she said and stormed away.

~~~*~~~

"Did you find it?" Cordelia slinked up behind him, a book at the ready.

Why does this only happen when I’m around? Wesley wondered. "No, I did not," he answered. He forcibly moved her to one side and walked behind the counter.

"What do you mean, you didn’t find it?" she screamed. "How could you miss —"

"What are you two arguing about?" Angel asked, walking into the hotel with Gunn. "We could hear Cordy outside."

Wesley took a deep breath to steady his voice and keep it even. "Cordelia saw a furry, purple creature fly across the balcony," he said. "She saw one the other day, as well."

"Uh-huh," Gunn snickered.

Cordelia spun around and pointed at Gunn. "Don't you dare mock me, buster. I know what I saw!" she yelled.

"Purple?" Angel repeated with a small snicker. He looked at Gunn, who smirked, his mouth twitching while he tried to control his reaction. Angel turned back to Cordelia. "How many eyes? Have a horn?"

"Yeah," Gunn agreed. "Did it fly? And wanna be in a rock-and-roll band?" He and Angel burst into laughter.

"You are so fun— GAH!" Tossing the book across the lobby, Cordelia grabbed her head and fell to her knees. Angel ran to her side and crouched down to gently assist her into a chair. She gasped and clung to him, fighting to catch her breath.

"What did you see?" Wesley asked, his voice edged with concern.

"Two children, their mother, being chased by a man," she replied with difficulty. "And the man’s eyes —"

"Demonic?"

"No. Not there. They’re at the Jack in the Box two blocks south of here." Massaging her forehead, she sat up and looked at the concerned faces surrounding her. "Go! Hurry! I’ll be fine."

~~~*~~~

Cordelia turned off the television and smiled at the returning trio. "Well?"

"We got him. You forgot the real ugly part," Gunn informed her. "And the BO."

"Good thing it wasn’t a smell-a-vision." She grabbed her purse and started for the door. "I’m going home. By the way, the racket coming from downstairs is unnnnbelievable!"

The three men looked at each other in amazement and concern.

"Racket?" Wesley asked.

"You know," she started, waving her hand in circles, "noise. It comes and goes, but when it does, it sounds like a bunch of wild, yappy dogs. The kind you’d carry in your purse."

"Dogs?" Angel repeated.

Cordelia walked up the foyer steps. "Yeah, dogs. You know, ‘yap, yap, yap’ plus a few growls and a meow here and there for measure. Whatever. You’ll see what I mean soon enough." She opened the door and waved. "In the morning, boys."

They watched as the door closed behind her, silence permeating the lobby.

"Wow," Angel said softly.

"Exactly," Wesley whispered. "I fear she’s finally gone mad."

"Ya think? And why’re we whispering?" Gunn asked.

"We need to keep an eye on her. But how to do this without raising her suspicion."

"Shifts," Angel suggested.

"I’ll drop by her place and get Dennis’ help," Gunn offered.

"As soon as possible," agreed Wesley, looking to the others for support.

~~~*~~~

Cordelia pointed frantically at the elevator. "There! Did you see it? It went in the elevator! Are you people blind AND deaf? How can you NOT see a fuzzy purple animal running across a deserted lobby?"

~~~*~~~

"Willow, I need a favor. Desperately … Ugh, like they’re any help! … Okay. Lately I’ve been hearing these noises. … Like cat fights. ‘Cept there’s no cats. I’m thinking demon, or alien, or something. … No, only one. Maybe more than one, but it might have been the same one. … Yeah, cat-size, but big, tom cat size. Purple … Yes. I said purple. Anyway, it runs around like a spaz. You know, like those animals on that Fox show? … Yeah. … Sound? Uhhhh, oh! I know! Like an opera on PBS but with demonic chihuahuas and Siamese cats. … You will? … Can you e-mail, no, wait, call me?… Thanks, Will."

Placing the receiver gently back in place, Cordelia saw the flash of purple as it dashed up the stairs.

"You’re mine, you fuzzy, little, demonic son of a bitch!" she growled.

~~~*~~~

"Willow! How good to hear your voice," Wesley said. "Cordelia? Yes, she’s here. Right here, steadfastly clinging to my side."

Cordelia yanked the phone out of his hand. "Willow? … Giles did?" She glared back at the three men staring at her. "Can you hang on a minute? I’ll just go take this … in the OTHER office."

Cordelia went into the inner office and slammed the door. Picking up the receiver and watching the lights for signs of anyone’s uncontrollable urge to eavesdrop, she began again.

"Okay, so, what did he find out? … Oh, thank God. … So, how do I get rid of it? … What do you mean I can’t? … A friend? … One of the ones from Australia? … And this friend will help me? … He’s sending someone? … Tuesday, okay. I can handle it for two more days, I think. What’s his name? …Randy. Okay. … Will? Thanks."

She hung up the phone and smiled. "You’re so gonna die, fuzzwad."

~~~*~~~

"I’m fine, really."

"No purple creatures?" Wesley asked.

"I have the problem under control, guys," she assured them. "You three go on, find out what you need. I have company coming in from, ah, out of state, so …"

"Have we heard of this company?" Angel asked.

"What are you? My mother?" Cordelia sighed. "Look, it’s a favor. He’ll be here and gone before you come back."

"Okay," Gunn said. "I have the cell, if you need —"

"Just go."

Cordelia watched as the three of them hesitantly left the hotel. Smiling brightly when Angel looked back at her for the fourth time, she waved and waited. Only when she heard the car receding into the distance, did she relax, turn around, and scream.

"Hoowah, you’re loud!"

Dressed in khaki shorts, a bright orange Hawaiian shirt, and imitation Birkenstock sandals, the foot high, teal-skinned creature stood on the counter, grinning lecherously and cracking gum. His yellow eyes, multi-faceted like diamonds, sparkled with more than a hint of mischief. He winked at her and popped a bubble.

"So? Ya gonna make me coffee, toots?" His tufted ears twitched in opposite directions.

Cordelia quickly regained her composure and arched an eyebrow. "Toots?"

"Yeah, toots. Helluva long way from Hell, ya know? I’m kinda jet-lagged."

"Toots?" She leaned forward and glared at the imp. "You better be Randy or you’re roadkill."

"With that view," he giggled, pointing at her chest, "Ya’d have to be dead not to be randy."

Cordelia snarled and grabbed Wesley’s copy of Daemonologie, holding it over the imp’s head.

"Shee-yit, you’re chesty, I mean testy," he snickered. "Right. Down to business. Yeah, I’m Randy." He giggled again. "Well, that’s my human name."

Cordelia slowly lowered the book. "Human name? What’s your demon name?"

"Bob." He cracked his gum and waited for her response. "Oh, well," he shrugged. "I tried. So few humans have a sense of humor these days. Anyway, I was sent to help you with a problem. So, where is she?"

"Who?" Cordelia put the book on the counter.

"Pishi. Your problem. She’s about my height, maybe taller, certainly fatter, purple, very furry except for her ears, sensitive tail. Don’t pull her tail. She bit my father once, and David —"

"David?" Cordelia repeated.

"Yeah, the Kahgen-of-sky, very famous. For a human. Anyway, David bit her back."

"He bit her back," she said, nodding. "Hoookkayyy."

"Well, she’s scared shitless of him, now. Especially since he sent that one demon loopy. Ya know," he ended with a shrug.

"No, I don’t. Do you think we can get on with this?"

"Sure, toots. Where is she?"

"In the boiler room," Cordelia said, pointing to the door. "I saw her go down there earlier."

Right," Randy said and cracked his gum. "Might wanna cover your ears, toots."

"Stop calling me that," she warned, but covered her ears as he suggested. She watched with disgust as he pulled the gum out of his mouth, stuck it on the counter, inhaled deeply, winked at her, then bellowed:

"PISHI! THE KAHGEN-OF-SKY COMMANDS YOU DEPART THIS PLACE AND TORMENT THIS HUMAN NO MORE!"

The chandeliers rocked, the walls rumbled. Randy picked up his gum from the counter and put it back in his mouth. Cordelia cautiously lowered her hands.

"That’s it?" she asked.

"Shh! I can hear her," Randy said, his ears twitching ferociously. "Damn it! I have a date tonight! I sure as shit —"

"What? Did she say something?"

"Yeah. It translates into ‘bite my a— butt.’ I’m gonna have to go down there." He looked at her, a solemn expression on his face. "This is a very dangerous, life-threatening mission. I might not come back. So?"

"Don’t. Even. Think. About it," Cordelia said through clenched teeth.

Randy shrugged and jumped off the counter. "Oh, well. Gotta try, ya know? You’re gonna have to open the door. I ain’t got wings."

Cordelia walked with him to the boiler room door and turned the handle. The demon took a deep breath, began to descend the stairs, then halted and turned to face her again.

"Nice underwear, toots," he said before he ran downstairs.

Grumbling under her breath, Cordelia turned around and gasped, her hand springing up to cover her mouth.

"Cordy, are you alright?" Wesley asked. Gunn and Angel both stood ten paces behind him, staring curiously.

"Yes. Fine. I’m fine," she answered. "Why are you back so soon? And don’t sneak up on me like that!"

"Guy wasn’t there," Angel told her. "What are you doing?"

She started to reply, but was interrupted by a loud yowl, metal clanging, then silence. She looked at Wesley and shrugged a shoulder. "I got an exterminator?"

"An exterminator? For what?"

More banging and yowling ensued. Cordelia cautiously peeked down the stairs. "For my purple problem."

"Your —" Angel started, but halted abruptly as a series of thumps and stomps ascended the stairs. Cordelia stepped aside as the door was kicked open.

Randy exited the stairwell, the still-attached tail of a very angry, purple demon in his hand. She snarled and extended her claws, trying desperately to grab hold to something as he lugged her across the floor. Randy looked at his audience, then dragged the demon in front of Cordelia.

"I TOLD you it was a dangerous mission, and you let me go down there without even a good-luck kiss."

Cordelia snorted. "You look fine to me."

"She fucking bit me!" Randy screamed and lifted his leg for her to see. He jerked Pishi’s tail, then glared at the creature. "Just you wait until I tell the Kahgen-of-sky about YOU! He’s gonna kick your fuzzy ass to the polar ice caps!" He turned back to Cordelia. "Well, since you won’t give us a snog, toots, at least tell David, when he gets here, that I did what he asked. For gawdammed nothing."

Pishi let out a yowl as Randy stomped across the lobby, glaring at the tall men as he passed each of them. He stopped in front of Angel, sniffed loudly then stared.

"Don’t I know you?" he asked. He sniffed again, his face contorting in disgust. "Yeah, I know you. Soul Boy! No wonder it smells like shit around here."

"I don’t think —" Angel replied as Randy and Pishi disappeared.

"What the hell was that?" Gunn yelled.

"Well," replied Wesley, "I do believe the greenish fellow was a lantuch. I’ve never actually seen one, as they tend to be —"

"THAT," snapped Cordelia, "was my non-existent purple creature, named Pishi, and the demon sent to get her out of here."

"’Soul Boy,’" Gunn laughed. "That’s funny."

Angel ignored him. "Ah, Cordy," he said to her retreating figure, "who did he say was coming here?"

"How should I know?" she screamed from the office. "Some guy who bites demons. Ask Giles! He arranged it." She returned and handed Wesley the checkbook. "Sign this."

"And this is?" Wesley asked before he looked. "Cordelia!"

"Price you pay for mocking me and thinking I’d lost it. Vision Girl’s going to a spa, and I know just which one."