Wesley looked up from his book and blinked in bafflement. "Favor?"

Angel glanced furtively back into the lobby, then entered the office, closing the door behind him. "Well, maybe not. You know Fred. But it sounded like ‘Wesley needs a favor’ before she wandered upstairs, muttering and twirling her hair."

"Ah," Wesley said with a nod of sudden comprehension. "Yes, well. She probably said ‘favors,’ not ‘favor.’" He watched as Angel’s eyebrows knitted together in confusion. Oh, yes, Wesley thought to himself, this should be jolly good fun. "At any rate, Angel. I’m glad you’re here. I have a task of Herculean proportions for you."

Angel shrugged and went to sit down in the chair across from the desk. "Okay. What is it?"

Ensuring that the opportunity so conveniently handed to him wasn’t lost, Wesley grabbed his coat and opened the door. "Don’t sit down. We haven’t time. I’ll explain in the car." He walked into the lobby and called out for Fred, who gleefully appeared at the top of the balustrade. "I got your message. Any kind in particular?"

"Well, you know best. But not pink or yellow."

"Alright. Not pink or yellow," Wesley repeated to Angel. "Any reason why not?"

"Just don’t want pink or yellow. Bye! Y’all have fun," she said with a wave, disappearing into one of the empty rooms.

Despite the curiosity nagging at him, Angel quietly followed Wesley to the garage and sat behind the wheel of his car. "Before I start, where are we going?" he asked when he could stand the suspense no longer.

Wesley scrunched his face then looked up at the ceiling of the garage, taking a deep, fortifying breath as he did. "Honestly, it would be best for all involved if we discussed this beyond the confines of this particular premise." He waved his hand forward. "Just drive toward Glendale, Angel. The sun has set enough for you to be safe."

"Glendale. Right." Angel turned the key in the ignition. "Not happy, Wes."

~~*~~

Angel cut the motor and turned to face him, crossing his arms over his chest in defiance. "I am not going into a mall."

Wesley yanked the keys out of the ignition. "Stop being petulant. I really don’t see where you have an option. This is for Cordelia. And Fred. Think of it as another step toward re-integration into human society. For you, as well, I might add."

"I’m going to re-integrate into humanity in a mall?"

Wesley moaned in frustration. "Angel, when’s Cordelia’s birthday?"

"How should I know?"

"Fred does."

"Why am I in competition with Fred all of a sudden?" Angel glanced at Wesley’s unflappable expression and sighed. "End of May, I think."

"What were we doing then?" Wesley asked softly. He waited while a momentary surge of grief crossed Angel’s countenance, then continued in the same hushed tone. "I realize you were the hardest hit by the news when we arrived home, but Cordelia was also terribly hurt. And what she suffered in Pylea, despite her outward nonchalance, cannot be ignored. Fred believes this belated gesture will help cheer her up, and I, for one, agree."

"Okay," Angel agreed. "But wouldn’t some expensive store on Rodeo be more Cordelia’s style?"

"Perhaps," Wesley said. "But I’ve finally balanced the accounts, and after your last shopping spree, even Nordstrom is pushing the boat out."

~~*~~

Angel stopped in the middle of Macy’s, frustrated and ready to give up the search. "We’ve been up and down the length of the mall, so it’s either here or Nordstrom. Gimme a hint."

"No, this has to come from you. I already bought her a gift."

"Yeah?" he chortled. "When did you have time to go shopping? You haven’t left the hotel in days. Or nights."

"April," Wesley said with a malevolent smirk. "And I got it on sale, too. Keep looking. The party’s tomorrow."

"Fine, then. Next department, we go in, I get something. Anything. This floor’s all women’s clothing, anyway."

Wesley cocked an eyebrow and waited patiently for Angel to notice exactly where he stood. Angel scoured the area ahead of him, searching for an idea, then slowly turned around.

He froze, dumbfounded.

"Don’t even go there."

"Uh," Angel stammered, "Too late." He looked at Wesley and shook his head. "Not lingerie."

Wesley smirked. "Unless, of course, you can convince her – " He stopped and laughed. "Never mind, eh? Look, I have to go upstairs and get the favors for Fred. There’s electronics, books –"

"Cordelia?" Angel snorted. "Books? Can we say anomaly?"

"As well as CDs, rot like that. Have a gander and see if anything jumps out at you."

Angel resigned himself and followed Wesley onto the escalator. "Jumps out and bites me on the neck, huh?"

~~2~~

Wesley went to the stationery department, leaving Angel to wander the third floor aimlessly. Clothing had proven a sure hit, but Cordelia’s taste ran beyond his present-day budget, as Wesley had so blithely reminded him, with just a hint of malice underlying his tone. One hundred or less was the suggestion. That narrowed his possibilities only somewhat.

Angel stopped and watched in mild bemusement as a father and his son, about eight years old, strolled casually into the small but exclusive toy department. They wandered the aisles, the boy pouting and tugging on his father’s jacket the entire time. As Angel went to look at the books, the pair passed him, deep in conversation.

"Timothy, we’re here to buy Kathy a present. Not to buy you a new toy."

"But Daaaaaaadddd," the cherubic blond whined, "Action Man has some really cool new stuff."

"I said no."

"You never buy me anything," Timothy said, stopping in mid-aisle and stomping his foot. "You’re such a demon, Dad."

Angel’s head snapped up. He put the copy of Vogue’s Interiors back on the shelf and moved closer to the pair.

"And you watch too much TV," the father answered. "I’m going to see if they have that Britney Whozit’s CD your sister wants. Can I trust you to stay here, in the toy section and figure out what to get your sister?"

"Fine," Timothy grumbled. "I hope The Beast bites your butt," he added under his breath. His father chuckled and walked toward the CDs, nodding in greeting as he passed Angel. The boy watched until his father disappeared out of sight then ran into the action figure aisle.

Angel monitored both, keeping his senses focused on the father. He smelled human enough, but something indefinable permeated the air around them. Not a scent, but an aura. It was then that Angel heard noises coming from behind him.

Whirring, grinding, grunting, and … kihaps?

Angel walked cautiously to the toy department, only to be confronted with an adulteration of Toy Story 2 with The Nightmare Before Christmas.

Timothy was seated, orchestrating the scene. On the floor in front of him, a group of Barbies – four in a bright pink convertible, approximately five others surrounding the car – were attempting to defend themselves from a barrage of mechanical insects as well as an onslaught of figures. Action Man, painted in jungle camouflage, crouched on the third shelf, aiming a blow dart at the driver. A Tonka steam shovel was quickly approaching the dolls from behind, lowering the shovel to overturn the convertible.

Suddenly, all movement stopped as Timothy and the toys noticed their audience. The child’s eyes narrowed in overt aggression. With a wave of his hand, he ordered the attack.

Angel stood in shock as a small line of scorpions moved forward and began to jab at his shoes with their stingers. He kicked them away only to be bombarded by a similar group of mosquito-like insects as they buzzed around his face.

Swatting the second wave aside, Angel noticed Action Man turn his sights on him. Grabbing a Happy Meal Stacey box, Angel blocked the dart, forcing it to enter the clear plastic, barely missing Stacey’s head. He tossed the box across the aisle when she flipped him the finger.

A line of human-like figures and various construction trucks approached Angel in single file. The one in the middle, a male, with a round face, brown hair, yellow hard hat and blue overalls raised his fist in the air.

"Can we kill him?" he asked.

With the exception of one truck with a crane on its back that turned and drove away, the entire formation answered, " Yes, we can!"

Toward the back of the aisle, however, a gray donkey stuck his head out and muttered, "I wouldn’t count on it."

"Look, Timothy," Angel said in a low voice, "Stop this. Now."

The blond glared at him, then motioned for another charge. Suddenly, a figure in a silver and green space outfit, with jet-propulsion wings on its back soared over Timothy’s head toward Angel.

"Buzz Lightyear to the rescue!"

Angel put up his hand to block his face, causing Buzz Lightyear to collide and spiral downward, landing on the linoleum with an "oomph!"

"Yo! Big, burly, he-man! You have got to help me! NOW!" a muffled voice screamed to Angel’s right. He turned and saw a small figure, scaling the shelves with the aid of metal claws jutting out from the back of his hands. He had punctured the plastic casing protecting a Barbie in an elegant gold gown, black-feathered hat, and was continuing his upward climb.

"Uh, hellooo! Dark Avenger type!" she yelled. "He’s going to ruin my gown! It’s a designer original! Do you have any idea how long it takes to get into this get-up?"

Angel grabbed the box and shook the small toy off, sending him crashing into Timothy’s leg.

"Timothy Erasmus Jones! I leave you alone for ten minutes and you not only have toys scattered across the aisle, but you’re bothering the other customers! Pick a Barbie for Kathy and let’s go!" The father turned to Angel, apologetically, while Timothy reluctantly picked up the toys. "Sorry about this. Over-active imagination. Your daughter will love that doll," he said, pointing to the box in Angel’s hand.

Angel looked down and frowned. The Barbie smiled and blew him a kiss.

"Find Cordelia a toy, did you?" Angel heard Wesley taunt him. "Not exactly the type of toys I’d imagine she normally buys."

Angel looked down again, to see the doll waggle her eyebrows and wiggle lasciviously before she returned to normal. "Yeah, well. This one sort of called out to me. Let’s get out of here."