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The Arena - Dance with the Devil -- by Kismet

Rating: R

Description: Spike is in the pit, and Buffy doesn't quite know whether she wants him to win or break a leg, litterally...

Disclaimer: All characters belong to Joss Whedon, but author retains rights over story, which can only be used with author's permission. A work of amateur fiction and no copyright infringement is intended.

The crowd was on its feet, crying as a collective whole in what could pass as adoration. And they would adore the slender, white blond man in the arena even more after he had given them a blood-soaked kill.

The white lights shone on him as he came out into the pit, seemingly fearless as he listened almost arrogantly to the crowd's cries. They had taken the black hood and mask away from him but he still wore the clothes from the Masquerade. In the white lights he looked like a prince from another time and the silver circlet on his brow might have been a sign of ruling power instead of a symbol of slavery.

The wall of sound from the crowd obliterated everything else, but he felt her as she felt him, a pull in the darkness and a sense of power, calling his name soundlessly across the sand.

His eyes met hers unerringly and their gazes locked. Stunned surprise at the sight of her turned to worry, then to rage before everything smoothed over again.

He smiled at her, blew her a silent kiss with his lips. Hello, Slayer.

The lights all came on in one blinding flash and vampire eyes adjusted seamlessly, shifting from deep blue to yellow as the face of the demon came over the face of the man. As arrogant as a cat on his own turf, he went right to the middle of the pit as the four demons warily spread out around him.

We who are about to Die salute You with Honour.

The music thrummed through him like a heartbeat where there was none and he stood as they circled him, as still as if he had gone to sleep.

"You idiot !" she whispered as her fingers clutched the bars. "Showing off like that will get you dusted ! Get back against the wall, bleach-brain, get back..."

He could feel them around him, could pinpoint each one exactly where he was the way it always happened in a battle where he was determined to win. The way it always worked with all opponents save her. He could feel her watching him from the shadows. They had put her in a cage. He wanted to make them bleed for it. He was the only one who had the right to hurt her. He had marked her as His kill and no other.

The Feoral demon lurched first, sure of its own considerable strength as it came from behind. Spike bent forward lithely and drove his booted foot into the demon's belly then dropped lightly to the ground on his hands so the Acatha who had tried to take advantage of the situation cracked heads with the Itsche over him. Spinning in the sand he knocked the pair off their feet and leapt up to kick the Feoral demon under the chin before it could recover from its bent-over position. With the growl of an enraged vampire, he threw the dazed Feoral demon backwards into the other Acatha and they both crashed down into the sand.

The first Acatha was up again and sprang onto the vampire's back, arms locking around his throat.

Idiot, thought Buffy. You can't kill a vampire that way even if you tried to bite him.

Spike didn't need to breathe so he was almost impossibly calm as he reached back and gripped the demon by the head. One sharp twist, a crack that was inaudible under the music and the shrieking of the crowd, and the body dropped down into the sand lifelessly.

He stepped away from the body smoothly like a great cat as the other three staggered out of reach, reconsidering. He looked straight into the shadows, straight at her.

More brawn than brains, the Feoral demon grew impatient and turned on the one next to him, who happened to be the other Acatha. Latching hold onto the unfortunate demon, it hefted him up and slung him at the vampire. Spike spun around in a move so quick even Buffy could only see the flare of the red coat and a blur. One minute his hooked hands were empty and the next they were covered with green slime. The Acatha shrieked its death scream as it clutched at the innards spilling out of it's torn stomach before collapsing to the ground. Minor demon, easy kill.

The Feoral demon swung at the vampire but Spike ducked in a whirl of red and gold and was up again in moments, striking two successive punches to the demon's face then spinning in a swing kick to take out the Itsche moving in behind him. He had a problem here now.

Buffy's fingers grew white on the bars. He had to make it a kill, but how ? The Feoral demon could only be killed with silver, and she did not even know what the Itsche's weaknesses were. She didn't want him being taken out in the ring, of all things. The right to dust him belonged exclusively to her. She'd put up with him too long to let someone else have the pleasure of doing it.

The answer came when the sand in the center of the arena began to rise in a pyramid behind the combatants. Like falling powder the sand fell away, revealing a rising pillar with its top covered in a dome of glass. Under the glass were three objects, each with a different meaning and all with one purpose: Death. One was a stake, the other a silver knife, and the third a vial of what looked like water.

Buffy hissed when she saw the Itsche rise to its feet and stagger towards the pillar as Spike fought the Feoral. Whoever got the weapons first held the fight in his hands. Yet the white blond vampire seemed oblivious, his back turned to the scene as he concentrated on beating the larger demon to bloody pulp.

She didn't know what made her do it. It just burst out of her mouth before she could stop herself.

"SPIKE !! Behind you !" Inconceivable that he could hear her over the din. Yet he spun, using the momentum to hurl the Feoral demon straight towards the Itsche, who had a fist raised to smash the glass already. Body hit body and the two demons hit the pillar, knocking off the dome as they fell hard into the sand.

Buried under the weight of the Feoral, the Itsche reached desperately for the stake which had fallen just within reach. His fingers had just closed on it when black boot crushed the digits into the sand. The other kicked the Itsche in the face just above the protection of the helmet and the stake was snatched up and broken into three harmless pieces.

Buffy winced at the casual brutality, but she watched him stoop easily to take up the other two objects as the crowd began chanting the word 'kill' over and over again, knowing that they were watching a master at his work.

Pinning both demons down with a knee in the Feoral's back, Spike stabbed with the silver knife, twisting it viciously in the wound. One shudder, and the large demon was still.

Even though she had no idea how to kill an Itsche, with nearly two centuries of experience under his belt he obviously knew how. Kneeling on the demon's armoured shoulders and pinning the four arms down at their pinwheel joints, he wrenched the helmeted head to the side and poured the water into the helmet, the upturned shape of it ensuring that none of the liquid escaped even as the Itsche began flailing in agony, steam rising from where the water was eating into it like acid.

In a few moments it was all over to the delight of the crowd.

"The winner, William the Bloody !" boomed the announcer. "A promising start to a great career."

As icily still as a statue, he waited in the ring, throwing the empty vial aside when the door opened and stalking to it of his own accord, not willing to give the watching harpies the satisfaction of seeing him grovel in pain under the circlet if he tried to disobey.

"The champion will fight again in Saturday's show when we will have a new highlight for you, ladies and gentlemen. Yes, a new mystery fighter, an even rarer sight than that which we have given you tonight. Make sure you don't miss it ! Bets against the house on Azalia the Nuimedorean and Spike of Los Angeles in their next fights can be placed from immediately after this show right until 7.30 pm on Saturday."

Then Julian was there with his men, barking orders at them as they carefully began moving the cages.

"Enjoyed tonight, princess ? I thought so, but it's getting late and we have to show you to your room now."

The license number had turned out to be for a truck owned by the Quick N' Easy moving company. He had broken in one night to check the files, only to find that the aforesaid truck was recorded as being on a three day trip out of the state at the date and time of the kidnapping.

So he had decided to have a little talk with the owner cum manager himself.

Terry Hatchet owned Quick N' Easy. He was a man of corpulent proportions and an equally corpulent greed. It had been a long day at work and as he finished checking the log and counting the day's take he was looking forward to going home to a hot meal and TV with a beer in his hand. Which was why he was not at all happy to look up to see someone standing in the doorway of his office.

"How'd you get in ?" He growled around his cigarette. "We're closed !" He felt for the gun he kept in the open drawer, just in case. You never knew.

The man stepped into the office and closed the door behind him, an action which made Terry's cigarette nearly fall out of his mouth. "You've got some cheek !"

"Maybe." The guy was tall, with short dark hair and brown eyes. The girls would find him good-looking, Terry supposed. He wore a long leather coat and pants, with a shirt of some dark colour.

"Who the f*** are you and what the hell do you think you're doing ?" Terry's fingers closed around his gun comfortably. Let the punk try something and he'd get his brains blown out the back of his head. "I own this place and I say we're closed !"

He couldn't believe it when the bastard actually strolled up to the desk and picked up the framed picture of his wife that stood on his desk !

"I need to know where one of your trucks was on the - of May, number 17 ? About 9.45 pm."

"What're you ? Some kind of cop ?"

"Private investigator, Mr. Hatchet, but I could involve the police if I thought I should. They could get a warrant, search the place, start asking questions about your regular customers. It could be very inconvenient for a man like you."

Terry's hackles rose. The cops were bad news to a guy out to make an honest buck. Stupid f***ers. He leaned down carefully and pulled open a drawer, still keeping his fingers on the gun. He made a show of rifling through the files and finally drew out a folder.

"17, eh ? Well, she was out of the state that time. Would be on the highways, carrying a load of furniture for some guy moving house. "

The young fellow set down the picture and smiled pleasantly. For some reason that made Terry's hairs rise. He didn't look as if he smiled often.

"Really ? Are you sure it wasn't in town that night, outside the After Hours club in the alley near --- --- Street ? Because I have some eyewitnesses who took 17's license number and caught a glimpse of the 'merchandise' you were transporting then too."

He could feel the sweat popping out on his forehead. Shit, those idiots had said that no one would know... "Look, mister, I have no idea what you're talking about, see ? I just rent the trucks out to people who pay for 'em, I don't go and watch over their shoulders to see what they're doing. Far as I'm concerned, it's their business and not mine. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to lock up." He stood up cautiously, his hand still lingering in the drawer.

"Did you know kidnapping is a federal crime, Mr. Hatchet ?"

Terry pulled the gun out and cocked it. "Look, I don't know who you are, you shit, or what you want, but I want you to get out of here. Just turn around and go on out."

The man laughed. Just threw back his head and laughed ! Then there was a blur of motion and a flurry and what felt like a cement block cracked into his knuckles and sent the gun clattering into a corner. Terry found himself slammed up against the wall with his arm wrenched behind him as high as it could go without popping out of its socket.

"Now, I don't have a lot of time to waste and I think you don't like wasting time too, am I right, Mr. Hatchet ?" the guy said in his ear. "You'd like nothing better than to get home safely to your lovely wife who no doubt has dinner waiting on the table for you, all nice and warm. You want to be able to drive your car home and walk up the steps to your front door and press the bell button with your finger, but you won't be able to do all those things if I break every bone in your body one by one. Tell me, Terry, is that going to happen to you ?"

His arm felt like it was going to snap, and the pressure on his neck from the guy's arm was tremendous. "Please ! I....I'll give you anything you want, there's money in the desk there, you can have it ! All of it... I ...." Then he couldn't say anymore because the guy was mashing his face into the plaster with the force of his arm.

"Mr. Hatchet, are you going to be difficult ?"

He was going to die. This crazy loony was going to kill him. Screw Larry Watts and his deals ! "No," he whispered.

"I'll ask you again, who hired number 17 that night ?"

He gave the name and the address.

They had taken her to a double row of cells facing each other, each cut off by a thick steel door with a tiny barred window in it and a slot at the bottom that could only push inwards. This was how the guards fed them, by pushing tray under those slots with steel rakes.

As a sick sort of parting joke, perhaps, Julian had left half a bottle of champagne on the table for her in a bucket of melting ice, a slender glass and a single red rose on top of a note that read simply, 'Welcome to the Stable'.

It was good champagne.

Buffy ran her fingers over the cool, metal plated walls. She had pulled the quilt off the cot around her, chilled even with her jacket and boots. Her watch told her it was 2.30 am.

She hit the wall with her fist experimentally. The quality of the faint 'thunk' told her well enough that the walls were as solid as they could make them. Sleep was not an option, and the pale lighting of the room chilled her to the bone. In frustration she leant forwards against the cold metal and thumped her forehead gently against its cold, wishing that sleep would come and bring with it forgetfulness.

Then, from the other side there came a faint answering thump.

She started, listening. Silence.

She thumped again.

This time there were two answering thumps with a short quality to them.

"Hello ? Is there anyone there ?" Buffy tried, feeling rather ridiculous as her voice echoed loudly in the cell.

"Some of us in here would like to sleep, you know," rasped a voice faintly from the other side.

In a flash she was at the door, fingers clutching the bars of the grille. "Don't go away ! Who are you ?"

"Not like any of us could go anywhere." The rasping voice sounded very definitely irritated now. "Look around you, steel, right ? The only way any of us is going to get out of here is in little pieces or if we kill each other, so at least let us get some sleep !"

"Us ?" Buffy craned her head, cheek pressing into the bars, but could not see anything save the empty corridor. "How many of you are in here ?"

A short riff of laughter came from another direction, a different voice. "Is that a female I hear ? And smell.....human smell. What are you doing in here, little girl ? Little lost child among the wolves....." The laughter crescendoed suddenly, ricocheting in the enclosed space and raising the growls and gibbering of at least ten different voices from all directions.

"Sweet sound of a female voice, lost child you'll fight without choice," the voice said in a sing-song.

"I hope you're the one I meet next in the ring," a third voice said in a barely understandable growl, as if the words came painfully from a maw that was too far removed from human to spit out the words. "An easy kill, crack your bones and lick the marrow, sweet red juice and the song of screams...." The second voice shivered its eerie laughter again, the sound of madness laughing.

"Great, they put me in with the sick freaks," Buffy muttered under her breath. "Can any of you give me a straight answer ?"

"Answers don't come free,' said the first voice under the noise of the others. "You are human ?" It sounded almost curious.

"What does your nose tell you ? And I suppose it doesn't do me any good to ask if you're a demon."

"I'll kill you in the ring if I have to is all I'll say."

He didn't sound mad, not like the others, Buffy thought. "Who are you ?"

The second voice shrieked with laughter as it picked up on her words, "Who are you who are you who are you !"

"We don't get to know each other in here," the first voice said in a rough undertone. "Firstly 'cause half of us are insane like that crackerjack over there in the seventh cell. I don't want to give you my name and I don't want to tell you mine, got that ? Makes it easier when we have to tear each other apart in the ring for all those stinking viewers."

Morbid-much, she thought as she switched to another tack. "Where are we ? Are there only ten of us here ?"

"Here, yeah. Don't you know, human ? This is where they put the dangerous ones, and there are only six of us here right now, plus you. We're the ones who're halfway out already."

"Out ? You mean you've fought and won ?"

"Yeah, that's what I'm saying. I've fought six times in the ring, and I've four more times to go to be free, but I know most likely I'll never make it out of here alive. When you get close they make it harder on purpose. Audience gets more of a thrill when the champions die for them. Messy is good."

"Garfadc," growled the third voice, calming down somewhat from the sway of the second who was singing something that made Buffy's hairs rise. "Garfadc tonight." Somewhere down the row some other creature gibbered in a language that she couldn't understand.

Ice formed in the pit of Buffy's stomach. "I've got news for you guys. Garfadc's dead."

There was a silence, save for the cackle of the second voice. "Newcomer or pack ?" it hissed, voice sawing madly up and down as if some toddler was scraping the bow over the strings of a violin haphazardly.

"Newcomer. Boa-constrictor woman they call Azalia." Buffy shuddered at the memory. "She's big and mean and mindless, or at least she thinks on no level I can understand. It's kill or nothing with her."

"She'll be put here then," the first voice said guardedly. They were all thinking the same thing, the Slayer realised. That to go free they would most likely have to fight Azalia. She had no idea what manner of creatures she was talking to right now, but she knew that they'd be just as mean to be here in this row. And she was actually having a conversation with them. Life was weird.

"Pretty ?" the second voice sang. "Pretty, pretty ?"

Buffy made a face. "I guess you could say she was attractive in a lizardy kind of....wait a second, what am I saying ?" She shook her head wildly. "I'm going mad."

"Mad mad mad, all eternity to go mad," the second voice jeered. "Why are you here, little girl ? Soft, sweet human girl. Why are you here with the killers of the damned ?"

"Yeah," said the first voice in suspicion. "You're a newcomer who's never even fought before. Why are you here on Death's Walk ?"

They couldn't sense her, she remembered. That meant no vampires among them. "You don't tell me and I don't tell you, fair exchange, right Mr. No-Name ?"

"Princess," growled the third voice. "Jailer called her Princess."

"Julian's a sick shit," Buffy said in disgust.

"He's the Jailer," the first voice told her. "He chooses who dies and who lives, and who fights whom, most of the time."

"How long has this Arena thing been going on ?" she asked, aghast. "How come no one's stopped them ?"

"Who's to stop them ?" The first voice barked a rasping laugh. "From what I've heard there are at least five of these fight clubs in different cities. The Arena itself is new. Some time ago it was another outfit doing basically the same thing, but they closed down for some reason. So now it's the Arena the humans come to to watch demons kill each other, but this is the first time they've put down one of their own."

Buffy was silent. What could she say ? She killed demons because it was her calling to protect the human race from them, but here it was all turned around like something in Alice's Looking Glass. A demon was filling her in on things she needed to know, and the humans were the ones screaming for blood outside.

They all heard the doors clang somewhere quite close, and even the second voice went silent. The hissing came to them faintly through layers of steel and bars and doors, hissing and shouting.

"It's the newcomer, isn't it ?" the first voice whispered. "They're bringin' her in."

"I don't get why they took so long," she whispered back. "Were they giving them First Aid or something ?"

"They don't even give you a Band Aid here. You get hurt, you do the healing on your own." The sounds were growing louder now, getting nearer. It was quite a tumult out there.

Then the last set of doors opened and they heard shouts of "Hold her steady ! Steady, dammit ! Don't let the tail get..." It was punctuated by a hissing shriek of pain and fury and there was the sound of metal crashing and rattling.

Men backed into Buffy's field of view, pulling on chains. They passed from view as the huge cage loomed up. There was barely enough room for it even in the wide corridor and even so Azalia was coiled up tightly inside, furious at being confined. The inner bars were twisted and bent from the heaving of her coils and there were men around her with what looked like electric cattle prods on poles to keep her from lashing out with her tail. The cage passed and Buffy saw Julian following behind with something in his hand. He pressed, and there was a scream of pain from the serpent as the band around her head began its work.

"The big cell at the end," Julian snapped. "Move !"

There were loud, metallic clinks as the cage was locked into place in the doorway of the cell and the front was opened. A particularly harsh pulse from the circlet forced the Nuimedorean out of the cage and into the cell, and the doors were slammed home.

There was a pause where the men could have been sighing from relief.

"Ok, bring on the other one."

Buffy gripped the bars of the grille tightly as the next, smaller cage trundled into view. Julian half-turned and caught sight of her face, and grinned as he crossed over to her.

"You've got a new neighbour, Princess. I think you know his kind pretty well, don't you ?"

She glared daggers at him. "He's more my kind than you are; they must have really scraped the bottom of the barrel for you."

"Careful, my girl. It won't do to talk to the Stablemaster that way, will it ?"

She could just see the white blond man in the cage as they manoeuvred it into place over the doorway of the cell across from hers. He was standing with one white hand on the bars, facing them, and as if he knew how she was considering whether or not to shoot her hand out and grab Julian by his collar, he gave a barely perceptible shake of his head.

Good reasoning. The guys with the cattle prods were still out there, and she still had that stupid headband around her head. So she glared instead.

"I hope you liked the champagne. The food here doesn't often get that fancy, though I'll see what I can arrange. It's not often we get fighters in this part of the Stable who eat human food." Julian turned idly to watch as Spike's cage was locked into place, his thumb brushing over the remote button.

The vampire held his gaze with stony, dark blue eyes, never flinching even when Julian made a sudden movement with the hand that held the remote.

Buffy thought she'd met all the personalities out there in the world that one could possibly meet. She'd been wrong. Julian roused her dislike to previously unknown heights.

"Get in there," Julian ordered with a wave of his hand when the front of the cage lifted. "There's a few bottles of blood inside and I'd tell you to rest and get your strength up. Tonight's fight was a fluke: they don't come that easy for the likes of you. We're confident that you'll give our crowds shows to talk about for years." He laughed unpleasantly. "THE Master of Los Angeles, owner of the Paradise clubs, host of the Night Masquerade. Who would have thought you dumb enough to want to give it all up for the life of a gladiator, eh ?"

Buffy couldn't help her gasp. Spike gave her a warning glance, then stalked silently into his cell. Julian tucked the remote into his jacket pocket, whistling tunelessly as his lackeys slid shut the doors and unlocked the cage from its position.

"Goodnight, Princess, sleep tight and don't let the monsters bite." Still laughing, he left and the men with him.

For a while silence reigned. Buffy drew a breath.

"I'm really starting to hate that guy's sense of humour. Spike ?"

His face appeared at the grille across from her. "I don't know, love, you two sounded rather cosy to me." His scarred eyebrow arched. "Why don't you tell me, pet ?"

"News flash, Bleach Boy. Two and two does not make five," Buffy gritted out. "How did you end up here ? You're still in costume from the Masquerade."

"You know him ?" The first voice made Spike start and growl. "He's the one, the one from the Paradise Clubs ?"

"You make friends fast, Sl...Buffy." He caught himself just in time. Smart boy. The less the others knew about her the better, especially the part about her being Slayer. But for some reason it was nice to hear him call her by name for once. "Mind givin' us introductions and all, love, since your bein' that mortal bastard's 'princess' makes you hostess ?"

"Jailer." The second voice came in with a string of hysterical giggles. "Jailer's Princess. Sweet mortal flesh, sweet mortal smell..."

"Cut it !" Spike snarled at the unseen voice, his face shifting to the ridges and planes of the demon as the powerful rumble of a master vampire infused his irritated words. There was something obscene about that crazy trill, and he wasn't having anyone talking about HIS kill that way.

"Hello ?" Buffy put in. "Private conversation going on here ?"

The first voice snorted. "Nothing we particularly want to hear. Demon half-breeds and humans. Just keep it low, I need my sleep." As usual, the scorn of the full-blooded demon for a vampire, whom they considered impure and tainted by human flash, came through.

Buffy turned back and saw that Spike had disappeared from the grille. "Spike ! Don't you dare turn your back on me !" she hissed.

"Come off it !" he said from somewhere inside his cell. "Unlike you, love, I haven't eaten, and I'm going to do something about that right now so unless you want to watch me feed you'd best shut up." If that wasn't enough to convince her, the wet sounds of drinking that came next certainly were.

"Gross," Buffy wrinkled her nose in disgust. "Spike," she hissed her whisper across the corridor, "WHAT are you doing here ? What did Julian mean ?"

He appeared at the grille again, wiping his mouth with his hand then licking his fingers. She wanted to avert her eyes, but at the same time some part of her watched the quick movement of his tongue like a cat grooming itself and shivered.

"Betrayal, pet. That's what put me here. A bloke can't buy loyalty for blood or for money. And believe me when I tell you that demons aren't the worst thing in this world. There are things much worse, like lawyers. Wolfram and Hart ring a bell ?"

She shook her head and he snorted. "Come on, how long have you been back together with my sot of a sire ? He's got to have told you something about them..."

"Sshhhh !" Buffy said furiously, flushing. "We're not trying to make my personal life headline news here ? And I'm NOT with An.....your sire and I really don't want to talk about it. Get my drift ?"

He smiled sardonically at her in a way that made her clench her jaw, hands itching to hit him. In a place where it would hurt. A lot. "Wolfram and Hart are THE firm for the non-humans in LA, and they helped me set up the Paradise Clubs."

"Oh," she said acidly. "And I thought you'd finally grown up enough to do something right yourself."

"I've lived for 198 years, love. What's your boast ?

"I'll be the one to stake you...I mean..." she floundered, "Steak as in slab of meat. Barbecue party. Which brings me back to what Wolfram and Hart has to do with you being here ? And demons have lawyers now ? Who do they sue ?"

Not-so-nice-save, Slayer, his eyes said to her. F***-off, her eyes said back.

"They weren't so happy when I told them I wanted to close down the clubs and leave LA, pet. They must have had an offer from this Julian wanker in the wings for some time now, and when it came clear that I was getting out of the game they took the next best offer, naturally. Either that or they wanted me out of the way."

Buffy blinked. "You were leaving ?"

"Not because I was scared of your team of crack-paratroopers, believe me," he drawled, voice dripping with sarcasm.

She refused to take the bait. "Why ?"

Silence for a moment. His blue eyes looked away, as if he was actually pondering on the question himself.

"I'm not sure, love. Maybe seeing you reminded me that it was time to move on. You know, you're getting to be quite the nuisance, Buffy. The minute I think I can settle down and rest for a bit, along you come to spoil everything, dragging along a whole lot of memories and baggage I thought I'd packed away for good."

"Hey, some of it wasn't that bad !" she protested. "We had some good times when you were, well...good."

"Weak, you mean. Neutered. Lap-dog like my wuss of a sire. You have that effect on us."

Buffy's head jerked up. Had that just been a compliment ?

"My turn, love. Why are YOU here ?"

She sighed, the moment passing. "My story ? Simple. With the gang. Wanted donuts. Walked down street to get donuts. Was run over by car and stuck in the arm with big needle. Woke up in a cage. Ended up here being tortured by having to listen to you. End of story."

"Very funny. Did anyone ever tell you your sense of humour's priceless ? If they did, don't believe them."

Cordelia was reading a magazine when the door burst open. 'A dark strange force will be entering your life today,' her horoscope read. 'It is likely you will not get much rest as the balance of your routine is pushed off kilter.' The man standing there was tall, dark and broodingly handsome in black and dark red. The draft blew his long leather coat out around him dramatically, making him look like some warrior of old come to claim his dues.

Cordelia rolled her eyes and threw aside the magazine. "Next time I want a reading, I'll just buy fortune cookies. Hi, Angel, there's..."

"Call J'Heira." He stalked in, slamming the door behind him as he shrugged out of his coat. "I've got the man she's after. I think he's...."

"What ?" Came a voice from the stairway that led down to his private apartment. Angel's head snapped up to see the Oden Tal princess standing at the head of the stairs, eyeing him coolly.

Cordelia's smile was faultless. "As I was saying, she's already here. I told her to go right ahead and make herself at home, since I knew you wouldn't mind..."

"Oh," Angel gave her a look. "Thanks, Cordelia. Thanks a lot."

"Always glad to help the boss," Cordelia disappeared with a smile behind her magazine.

"It is man that we're after, then." J'Heira paced forward, her boots hardly making any sound on the floor, her violet eyes burning with purpose. "Do you know where we can find him ?"

"Address and phone number." He handed her the slip of paper, ignoring the frisson both felt when their fingers touched. He thanked The-Powers-That-Be that Cordelia was in the room. Even without the Ko's energy, the tension was already building. "But we're not going to find them there."

Her eyes flicked up. "And why not ?"

"The man whom I...spoke with....gave me Larry Watts' home address, but the truck was rented out sans driver. Larry had his own men do the dirty work and the driving. For all we know they could be anywhere in the city, or out of it."

She frowned. "What I do not understand is how they managed to contain the girls for so long. Even if they were put to sleep the waking is much swifter than with most others. Garjana, one of the girls, is very strong. Stronger even than me, perhaps, but still young. Untrained. Her heat is tremendous, and she fought the hardest before learning to control her power. The moment she woke she would be able to...." Understanding dawned in her violet eyes then as her gaze met Angel's.

"Exactly what I was thinking," he affirmed. "How do you contain heat ?" He turned to the reception desk. "Cordelia ? I need you to run a search for me. I need you to get a list of all the chemical suppliers in this city who sell dry ice, then cross-check it for any recent purchases in bulk before the date of the kidnapping."

"I'm not so great with computers yet..." she caught his look. "But I'll get right on it !"

"Good." He pulled on his coat again.

"Wait ! Where are you going ?"

Angel and J'Heira shared a look. "To pay Larry Watts a house call."

"A surprise I am sure he will not be expecting." The Oden Tal woman's eyes glittered dangerously before she slipped on the dark glasses and long scarf that hid her distinctive tattoo and cheek ridges. "Shall we ?"

Angel gestured for her to go first as he held open the door.

"Aaargh !" wailed Cordelia to an empty office. "My routine is definitely being pushed off kilter ! He'd better be paying me overtime for this !"

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