Splinter

“Harmony!”



The blonde vampire rushed into the office, notepad in hand.



“Yes, Boss?” She popped a bubble gum and blinked at him.



Angel locked his hands together, stopping himself from wringing her neck, and wondered how much unprofessional one secretary could possibly get. He would probably have the answer soon enough.



“Where’s the Rodriguez contract?”



He waited.



Her blue eyes looked at him blankly for a second before, thankfully, the question seemed to register.



“Oh, you mean the certification that high-school-reject needs so he can marry that Princess Lea poser?”



“She’s a Shor’ueu demon. They’re born with hair like that.” Angel rubbed a palm over his forehead, his fingers unconsciously brushing against his hair. All he needed now was a receding hairline; he had heard that stress sometimes caused that, which was something he had to look forward to if he had to go through this again.



Angel had had an audience of Gunn and Spike throwing back and forth the theory that George Lucas had stumbled upon a Shor’ueu thus fuelling countless sexual fantasies. He smiled in remembrance of the satisfaction born of physically tossing the two enthusiasts outside his office -not more than a month ago- for subjecting him to such torment. However, what had truly bothered Angel at the time –other than their badgering- was his blank ignorance of the topic at hand, leading him to secretly researching the matter online. And now, Harmony was letting the worms out, consequently leading him to think about Spike, something he didn’t want to do, and would only give him a headache and stress his mind, among other things. He wouldn’t be surprised if he became the second Aurelius Master that was bald.



Harmony shrugged uninterested in Angel’s response and utterly unaware of her boss’ thin patience. “Whatever.”



Angel tapped his fingers when she continued to stand there.



“The contract, Harmony.” He wouldn’t sigh. He wouldn’t rub his forehead again. He wouldn’t even indulge in a harmless pinching of the bridge of his nose. What he really wanted was to throw the airhead blonde out the window. It had been five years since he had done that after all.



Harmony seemed unaware still of Angel’s mood. She placed her pad on his desk. When he blinked at it as if wondering what the hell she was doing, she pushed it closer to him.



Angel lowered his head and squinted. He rubbed at his eyes, a few seconds later, giving up.



He spread his hands. “What the hell are these scratches supposed to tell me?”



Pop. A pink bubble snapped. “That’s a message from young lovesick Rodriguez.”



Angel’s face twisted. He really didn’t know if he wanted to scream or cry. Cordelia really wanted him to suffer for everything he had done, insisting he keep Harmony as his secretary.



“Can you translate what it says?” he asked blatantly, not even bothering to demand why she had never thought to deliver the memo.



If it was even possible, Harmony looked offended. She answered nonetheless, “He says he changed his mind.”



“What?”



She used a mauve fingernail to pick a piece of gum out of her teeth, before sucking it back in. Guts were a more appealing sight for Angel right now.



“Yeah, he wants to see the world first before settling down.” She snorted. “Right. Like that loser would be so lucky.”



Angel frowned and looked down at the pad once more. “Is that all this says? There are a lot of squiggles.” He pointed at the pink pad. He was seriously beginning to resent that color.



Harmony narrowed her eyes. At the same moment her mouth opened to provide some other undoubtedly useless information, Gunn came in. The tall man froze in his tracks, blinking at the tension.



“Yo, Boss-man. You got five?”



Harmony turned to look at Gunn. “I’ll hold all his calls. Be careful, he’s in one of his ‘moods’.” She air quoted and was on the other side of the door before Angel would have had a chance to demand what she was talking about. Not that he would. He never bothered with Harmony’s opinions in the first place.



He picked up the pad, tore off the top paper, and with a little more force than needed. balled it up and tossed it in the trashcan. For extra measure, he pushed the pad away from him.



Gunn looked on with amusement.



“Done mooding?”



“I’m not---” Angel caught Gunn’s grin and knew he was being played with. He leaned back in his leather chair, trying to look on influential. “What did you want to talk to me about, Gunn?” He looked at the human and inwardly winced at the file he held. That prophesized more work. He hoped they weren’t more papers to sign. He seriously missed the field work.



The papers were brandished with pride, putting a stop to the vampire’s fantasies of pounding the crap out of a villain. Angel wasn’t going to dwell on why he stressed that the villain have superior blue gray eyes.



“The contract is binding.”



Gunn broke his thoughts. He was clearly speaking about one legal case, right to the point. Angel looked intrigued at the vagueness and leaned forward. “I don’t remember any recent cases that…”



Gunn interrupted. “It’s Spike’s case.”



“Ah.” Angel said no more and returned to his reclining position.



Gunn was not hindered by Angel’s near lack of response. At least he wasn’t being dismissed--- verbally or physically.



“No one can lay claim on Blond Wonder due to the initiated Claim via Master Hrafen of Hravolen. But-” He pointed at the papers in his hand. “I found a loophole.” He grinned pleased with himself. Angel continued to look on silently. “No demon can step forward unless Raven gives his permission yet the rule excludes previous claimers i.e. You.”



Gunn looked on at the unmoving figure behind the desk holding his breath for a responsive reaction. Angel opened his mouth. The human leaned forward in anticipation to hear the vampire’s first words on that new development.



“I know that.”



Gunn snapped back as if he were slapped.



“Goddammit, Angel-man!” He tightened his grip on the folder in his hands causing it to bend with the pressure. “I, as sure as hell, ain’t comfortable with how the triangle the gang see but Files and Records tells me this almost never happens. It’s a big deal for a Line to lay Claim on a Master descendent with different blood.” Angel’s calm disinterested demeanor told him that nothing new was being said. That annoyed Gunn. “You know what busts me . . . why the hell Claim the dude in the first place if this means jack to you?!” He swung his arm to emphasize the situation.



Angel lowered his eyes for a second leading Gunn to assume that he had made an impact. That notion was soon wiped clean when the vampire raised hard eyes. “Angelus not me.”



“Cut the bull. It might not mean shit to you, but you really think that being virtually owned for over a hundred years and then being tossed, that Spike – William the Bloody - would take it and move on?” Gunn shrugged. “I admit, I like the little dude, he’s cool and makes me work for my game scores. But if you don’t give a damn about him being bought for free of charge, think that this powerful vampire – who killed two slayers and kickedyour white ass - is joining another posse.”



Nothing. No visible twitch on the features of the stoic face or a flicker in his eyes. If there ever was a time to exploit Angel’s hero complex, it was now.



“What if what Wes told us is true, that Spike would be more than a Claimed for Hravolen? For all we know this Treaty is a scheme from Raven to turn him against us.”



“Claimed cannot diverge ones personality nor their innate will.” Gunn felt chilled to the bone when Angel seemed to look through him instead of at him. “Once the claim is fully established, they can hold their will or release it. They can be controlled with mere whims. Raven intends to go beyond that and make Spike his mate giving the proposed Treaty solid ground with Spike as the envoy.” Angel let out a breathy chuckle that was no way near expressing delight.



The monotonous words served -to some extent- as an answer to Gunn’s earlier reflexive question. He had questioned Angel’s –Angelus’ – prior Claim of Spike. Something told Gunn that there was more to that story that Angel wasn’t telling. But he didn’t dare push. He tried to concentrate---



--- One step at a time.



Gunn wasn’t willing to pull any punches on sensitive subjects. “Hope you haven’t forgotten this little thing called a prophecy that had been popping up at us around every shady corner. Speaks about a vampire with a soul that would have a crucial role to play in the apocalypse, good or evil, remember that piece of rutty-ness?”



Angel’s jaw clenched. Gunn saw that small movement of displeasure as a great victory to him. Finally, the big ape was showing emotion, a sure indication to a crack in the wall. The lawyer just hoped he would not be the one buried under the bricks.



“For all we know it's fake.” The clipped tone showed clear displeasure at that particular subject being brought forward. And was that a sense of betrayal in the brown eyes?



Gunn smiled confidently. “Yeah, well, what if it ain’t? It’s up to us to make sure that this Treaty is on the up and up at least. And if you’re interested in stopping this, least you can do is part with Spike--” The human frowned when his trained senses screamed that a very pissed vampire was near by. He looked closely at Angel, who didn’t look all that different, if one looked passed the steely gaze. Gunn continued as if nothing was amiss, “—on good terms. Just to secure his place in the ‘presumed’ big fight, you know.”



Step by step, a child learns to walk. Gunn hid the triumphed grin that threatened to take hold of his features when a look of actual consideration passed over Angel’s eyes.



Gunn’s better instincts told him to count his blessings and leave well enough alone, especially in the heart of the matter of which he wished to remain in the dark about. However, Cordelia’s voice still rang in his head. He heaved a deep breath and took the leap. "It's not my thing to get in the middle of vamp squabble. I really don't care who’s got the ball, honestly don’t know the game, can’t read the rule book. I came into this gig eyes wide open, man. I make sure the people sleep without worrying that the metaphorical monster under their beds isn't so metaphorical. I’m living contently away from the triangle Anne Rice in-thing the gang’s got going on.”



Gunn fleetingly recognized that he argued more today than he had in one of his big cases and ventured on, hoping that ‘this’ was the right thing, “What matter to me are hard facts. Wolfram and Hart drummed in me the demon laws. Way I see it, a vampire who ruled his own clan with an iron fist is gunning for a White Hat warrior.” He waved the file reminding Angel of the intense research he had done.



“The deal is hard solid. Both deals, if he’s on the up-and-up about a Peace Treaty, though I won’t hold my breath like Wes. I can't do nothin' about the first but I sure am keeping my lawful eyes all over number two. Number one is your turf. All you have to do is say ‘no’ to the vamp with the horsetail. The only way for Spike to be free from this Claim business is for you to reinstate yours.” Gunn was sounding redundant even to his own ears. Nevertheless, he had never trusted a soulless vampire. He never will, with good reason. “You’ll worry about it again after two to five centuries. Me? I’m making sure I’m in the arms of Baby Jesus by then, far away from another Vamp Soap.”



"Are you done?” Angel finally asked after a moment of silence spent in contemplating Gunn. The man in front of him nodded. “Good. That is not an option." He reclined back in his seat.



“But…”



“No buts, Gunn. I really appreciate your concern but there is no way that I am claiming Spike.”



That caused Gunn to snap again. “Then why the hell did you in the first place?! Was it some macho vamp dominance thing?”



“Not that I’m not grateful that you’re not getting pulled into ridiculous delusions of my reasons like the others. But, again, that was Angelus not me.”



Gunn bit his tongue. He wished he did believe in the absurdity of those so called delusions. But the elevator tape didn’t lie. Yet, he wouldn’t say anything. It was too risky. “Fair enough. But here’s the thing.” He pulled out a distinguishable gold labeled envelope from the folder. “There’s going to be an introductory gathering for Lines and Underworld higher ups. I’m not talking just the fangs and bumps crowd here. Like you already know, it’s a practically non existent thing for a Claim between different clans, especially if the Shared Rule is real deal. It’s only a formality of course; they have no say on the matter. Just three people have and we already know where everyone stands,” he said with a hint of sarcasm.



Angel was intrigued. He was also relieved when Gunn dropped the re-claiming. However, that doesn’t mean that he would let him see that. “What are you going for Gunn? Get to it, I don’t have all day.”



Gunn wisely didn’t comment on the clear state of the demand Angel’s time, or lack of it. This invitation was more likely the highest one. “Well, A-man, you’re invited.” Angel frowned. Gunn instantly slipped on his corporate shoes. “This will be a great chance for us to make allies, really work from within.” He stopped, gauging Angel’s interest, finding it, before going on, “You say you’re on board with this ‘coupling’ . . . then we use it . . . show your support for Hravolen. Lorne said that this matter is already making major gossip waves in the Supernatural World. If you didn’t show, people would think that Hrafen beat Angelus over the Claim, that he has something on him. That would be bad for your image and the powerful influence we’re trying to make.”



“No.” Angel closed his eyes, his face neutral. His eyes snapped open catching Gunn’s calm ones. “It would be bad for Angelus’ image.”



“Got me there.” Gunn nodded. “But, if you show that Raven’s pact is a profitable deal, getting him on the good side of the peeps that had been demolishing baddies left and right, others might join the Treaty. This’ll help save lives, help you sleep during the day.” He looked pointedly at the bright window. “And, who knows, maybe show the Watchers Council that we haven’t been sucked dry by Evil Inc.”



That caused a palpable reaction on the vampire. Gunn mentally high-fived himself when Angel swallowed. Yep. Lawyers were pure evil, going for the jugular. He relished the moment before the final blow.



“Buffy.” Gunn crossed his arms. “Your old honey and her English Watcher still don’t trust you as far as they can throw you. You don’t think the Sunnydale Trio won’t get word of this, and how you played your part, chatting it across the ocean?” Case closed. He was confident. He could wait it out until the man behind the desk broke.



It only took Angel a second to reply. “Okay. Give me the invitation and I’ll see if I have spare time to make an appearance.” He held out his hand, perfecting a bored look of disinterest.



Gunn wasn’t fooled for a moment. He was the process of handing over sealed envelope but pulled back before the pale hand touched it.



Angel narrowed his eyes. “What are you doing?” the cool and controlled tone indicated that he was not a little irate with the evasive action.



“You won‎’t try to chop my head off like you wanted with Lorne if, I dunno, you see something you didn’t like?” He raised an eyebrow.



Angel seethed at that reminder and held out his hand with warning in his eyes.



And yet, Gunn bravely stood his ground. “I’m not giving you this till you promise that you’d be on your best behavior.” He shook his finger. One would think he was talking to a child not a vampire over a century old.



Angel gaped. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “I have been to more of these things than you have.” He liked his crew, he really did. But their shortage of respect and being utterly un-intimidating to them was making him long at times for his soulless days. This was one of them.



“Well, I’ve never set foot in any, so I have to agree with you there. Nah, I’m talking about you, one Scandinavian vamp, and the blond in between.”



“Spike isn’t…”



Gunn waved his hand. “Already said, none of my business.”



Angel snorted. “Makes you wonder what you were preaching about all this time,” he murmured none too discreetly.



“He’s gonna be in his place before the bash tomorrow night.” Gunn noticed the change in Angel’s expression. Not knowing that the reason was reminding the vampire of where else Spike would be, and thinking it was Angel questioning Gunn’s certainty of the blond’s location in that particular night, he clarified, “It’s Crash Bandicoot night.” He chuckled when his friend’s face creased in confusion. He felt triumphant when Angel lightly nodded agreeing to the condition, indiscreetly eyeing the envelope.



Gunn had to admit he was good. It was something he had learned from an old ‘gambling’ buddy of his. You should always lay smokescreens for your prey and when it was less aware, strike with what you were ultimately after. Chances were high for second bait to be taken to evade the first. The once street fighter hid his grin –no sense in showing his real hand- for sometimes brain was superior to brawn.



That brought to mind a ‘debated’ that Spike and Angel had, not long before their relationship became even more strained, on both sides. The gang had yet to know the cause. That particular argument had spread throughout the company, causing people dividing into factions, two to be exact, astronauts and cavemen. Gunn smiled in remembrance. It was different. It was fun. Angel and Spike had never fought, not really after the Cup Shamble, they had been really –as Cordelia never failed to say to the master vampires’ faces- like two old couple, not married due to the torrent of what Fred had dubbed UST. He was sorry later to ask what the scientist had meant by that. Forgoing the innuendoes, those were good times. He wasn’t ashamed to admit it –at least in his own head. He wouldn’t mind that far from tedious atmosphere to return. Though, fact remained, it dwindled even prior to this whole Claim affair.



Gunn missed the times when he was but a plain caveman.



“Hey, who knows, maybe you both would settle matters over a mean game . . . and I’ll be the best man.” The black man’s eyes widened cursing the obvious severed connection between his brain and mouth.



Angel frowned. “Huh?” He was beginning to feel that everyone around him was speaking in a foreign language of which he was not aware of. He bet Spike and the new cool movie loving vampire would be in on it as well. Yes. After all he was going through, would someone blame him for being bitter?



Gunn chuckled nervously and his hand waved frantically. “Yeah. Nothing. Okay.” He gave Angel the envelope, all but flinging it at him. “Here you go, just don’t forget to talk with Spike before the bash!”



He hurried to the door right before Angel calling his name stopped him. Gunn turned around holding back a guilty cringe only to see Angel looking everywhere but at him.



“Uh… where is Spike’s place?” To say the souled vampire was feeling guilty was putting it lightly.



Gunn froze for all but a second, strode back, picked up a pad off Angel’s desk, and wrote something down before throwing it angrily at the vampire. Not even bothering to glare at the vampire who well deserved being held lowly by his underlings, he stormed out, almost running into Harmony.



“Hey…!”



The blonde vampire smoothed her dress and followed the black man’s rigid steps with her livid eyes, her acute hearing picked up mutterings of how he had not known that Cupid was a ‘brother’. And that Cordelia was damn fresh out of favors if he had anything to say about it. That asshole of a vampire deserved the company of his right hand for another 100 years for all the shit he did.



Harmony giggled but didn’t follow the angry man nor returned to her desk. She went to another direction altogether.



Back in the office, Angel waited for someone, preferably his ‘well-trained’ secretary to close his door, but that seemed like too much to ask.



He finally looked down at the scribbles on the pad in his hand with as much dignity as he could master.



It was an address.



*~*~*~*~*~*





Knock… knock… knock







“I’ll get it! It must be the room service I ordered.”



The door swung open and Xander's eager face appeared. He frowned and called behind his back, “Anyone call an order of non-dusty bottle blond vampire with a soul on the side?”



Spike shook his head. “Cute,” he said in a mock tone.



Xander shrugged, telling him to enter the hotel room. He closed the door behind the vampire. “If a handful of rookie slayers and a vampire saviour say so, then it must be true!” He patted his unkempt hair gracefully.



Spike rolled his eyes. Xander Harris might have matured through the years in looks but there were some things that never change. He surveyed the room appraisingly. The new Watchers Council seemed to go all out these days if the luxurious three-bedroom dwelling meant anything. His eyes finally landed on the couch where two young women were waiting for him patiently. Xander cut into his vision as the boy flopped clumsily down onto the couch.



Now three pairs of eyes watched him silently. He shrugged.



“We need to talk.”



Willow nodded at his words and indicated to a nearby chair. “So you said the first time. ‘A long chat’, was it?”



Spike pursed his lips as he was taking a seat but didn’t elaborate. He had come here for a reason other than the initial catching up, and he intended to follow through.



“Yeah, Blondie, Cordy choked whenever we asked about you. Care to fill us in?”



Spike looked at Faith not a little surprised. “She kept her yap shut for once?” He shook his head amazed when Xander nodded while stuffing his face with what seemed like sour chips. “Who knew she had it in her.”



Faith leaned forward and rested her elbows on her knees. “Yeah, Red was checking for demonic possession when Cordelia wouldn’t budge. Though she did give us some fab anecdotes of Angel.”



Xander snickered evilly around a mouthful of chips. He soon had Willow’s hand smacking his back to ease his choking.



Faith continued as if nothing happened, “So, fess up. Coz, man, if it’s another one of those 'end of world apocalypses' then I seriously need to buy new jeans before shops close.”







*~*~*~*~*~*







“So… what did you have on Gunn?”



Cordelia raised her head, not even bothering to stop polishing her nails, and smiled knowingly. “Him kissing a transvestite well during happy hour.”



“Photos?” Angel asked, leaning casually against her closed door as if he hadn’t snuck in and was watching her for a while.



She blew on her fingers and held them up to the light. “Video. Clubs have high security these days, you know.”



Angel shook his head in amazement. “You really went to the big guns on this one.” Cordelia raised an eyebrow. “Take the pun as you like it. Now… tell me why maneuvering me into accepting that invitation is so important to you. Not that you had succeeded, mind you.”



“He was killing himself.”



Angel opened his mouth. He closed it. He tried once more. “What?”



Cordelia might have seemed busy rearranging her desk, but she answered him, “You think you’re so cool for catching onto Gunn’s diversion, the all knowing vampire. As if.”



Angel was taken back at the cold glare that was shot at him.



“We didn’t say anything, because…” She spread her hands. “I dunno. Worried that it’d be like betraying him? We all found out in our own way by accident, so I guess it didn’t seem right somehow.”



“Cordelia…” he started, only to be cut off.



She mumbled what it seemed like to herself, “Like it matters much now.” She refocused. “It was barely noticeable at first, at least for me. According to the others, it had been going on way before I came to. I finally took Lorne’s Sinatra records hostage until he spit it out.”



“What did he see?” Interest might have peeked, but Angel kept to his own pace.



Cordelia shook her head. “Rules of personal reading crap. He just said that Spike was ‘forlorn’ – his word- needed someone who ‘got it’… him-- needed to do good, do something other than baiting you.”



Angel blinked as if that wasn’t something new, riled or even of concern to him. It wasn’t like he needed someone to pass that information along. He knew that Spike hadn’t gotten over the guilt that accompanied the soul, regardless of the opinions he had expressed on the subject, mostly right to Spike’s face. Others might not see it, but Angel knew of Spike’s act. Pulling on a cloak of abrupt unscrupulousness was a quality Spike had devised upon his turning so well that the young vampire fooled even himself. But never Angel.



Angel’s cool facade continued as he replied, “So he did good, played my role pretty well a while there.”



Cordelia twisted her lips. “Him pulling on the solo hero cape didn’t go with his eyes. Or was that his arms? Loony Slayer, anyone?”



“That’s part of him being an idiot,” Angel answered simply. This was going nowhere. Cordelia and Gunn mentioned things that he already knew, and talking about Spike was something he never liked. Especially if it meant he would have to endure someone's prattling about a matter that was a done deal for all he cared about. It was better off as he had left it. He should tell his ‘friends’ that. It would hopefully put an end to all of the meddling and get them back to the important businesses of saving people. Then why wasn’t he?



Because… there was something his crew had been hiding from him all this time and this probably was his best chance to find out about it all.



Cordelia’s eyebrow twitched in agreement with the idiot part. “Yeah. But that was Lindsey’s work. If we didn’t keep him grounded he might have gone out one night without someone to cover his back and get himself killed, for good this time. Me, Fred, Lorne, Wes, even Gunn would drop unexpectedly at his place to make sure he’s in one non-dusty piece. Did you know that?”



Angel didn’t answer. He was too busy wondering how he had missed that. How he had been slowly cut out of his friends, his crew, his adopted family, who shared something like this between them without including him. He was left out of something that he, of all people, should have known. And maybe that was it. He should have known.



More importantly, Spike shared a weakness with them, if not with deliberation then by allowing it to continue… something he had never let anyone whom he was less than both physically and emotionally intimate with to see.



Cordelia poignant tone continued flowing as she got up and walked around her desk, “Sometimes we’d find him really roughed up from a fight that he hadn’t called in --- it mostly happened after one of your nasty fights. Fred did the statistics.” She gestured at Angel meaningfully, jogging his memory of a couple of recent arguments he had with Spike. None of them ended near what could be called a good note.



Angel wondered what had happened to that elevator; it seemed he never used it recently.



“This one time, Fred and me walked in on him trying to patch up BOTH hands… pretty burned up.” Her face twisted as if the memory in itself was painful. “Face singed. That was a little after Lindsey got what he deserved and the law firm became putty in well-manicured hands.” She wiggled her fingers right at his face. “Fred wasn’t all that shocked, so that clued me in on her knowing. She mentioned later that this incident coincided with you lashing out the night before at Spike, saying that 'it was lucky that we survived' seeing that he was 'stupid enough to aid the enemy all this time'. That he 'should’ve known that ‘Doyle’ was a fake'.”



Cordelia was so close to his face right now, her eyes boring into his as if trying to find reason for it all. “Why did you blow up at him, Angel? You knew he was tricked. If it weren’t for the PTB giving me a wake up call, you all would’ve been.” She looked wise beyond her years all of a sudden. “Did you need an out-let with the Senior Partners and Lindsey leaving the building and Spike happened to be the toughest one around ready to take it all, maybe slam you around, too.” She looked sad. “That doesn’t seem like you. Tell me, Angel. I know about it all, remember…”



Angel remembered. He remembered the deal that was made with the Senior Partners over Connor. He also recalled the second and last transaction where he gave them Lindsey and the Evil Corporation handed over the L.A. branch fully, with no strings attached, to A.I. and Co. and sealed all previous contracts and accounts as well. That insured that Connor’s secret was protected – the name of the demon in charge of the spell was given to Angel and he had taken care of that – as well as the different facilities. Also, it included letting Gunn keep what demon and human laws he had not lost upon declining a foggy arrangement – meaning that he was still Super Lawyer but with a few missing holes that old fashioned study and research would take care of. Not to mention, the added bonus of removing what Gunn had referred to as ‘Girly-Songs’ from his memory.



“Files and Records is a freaky place, you know that?” Cordelia pulled him back from memory lane with them both reclining on the couch in her office taking in the silence.



Why did she have an office if she really wasn’t working in the building? Angel had often wondered about that but never dared question Cordelia to her face.



“Um, I think I’ve been there once. The woman with the odd eyes?”



Cordelia nodded. “The one and only. You know she keeps wearing the same outfit? Poor woman,” she said pityingly.



Angel didn’t know how to reply to that other than to focus on his confusion at her going down there in the first place.



Cordelia seemed to catch on to his befuddlement. “I had to see this Claim deal without the boys looking over my shoulder.”



Angel barely hid a groan.



“So, it seems that Spike would be changing his family name…” She looked disappointed. “You had strung Spike along all these years with false hope only to disown him.” She poked Angel on his arm. “ Whydon’t I believe that?”



Angel had had enough of all the prying. “Maybe because there isn’t anything else to this, anyone ever think that?”



“The look in your eyes wasn’t guilt, Angel. It was worry.” That seemed to be her closing argument.



She looked really pleased with it.



However, Angel had to ask. For his own sanity at least. “Wha?”



Cordelia's face took on an exasperated quality. “C’mon, Angel. How about you be the bigger man in whatever tiff you and the Peroxide Master have going on, take back your rightful claim.” She was actually placating him. Angel could hardly believe it. “It isn’t like you hate him that much, splinter fit anyone?”



“I didn’t have a fit,” Angel snapped. He dug his fingers in his knees. He was again reminded why Cordelia wasn’t his favorite person back in Sunnydale, and it had nothing to do with a petite blonde slayer. “He is part of my line and has a soul as you all like to keep reminding me. My blood… I had to . . .”



Cordelia impatiently cut in, “I’ll give you the soul bit, but the part of the line is bullish and you know it.” Angel was almost shocked at her vulgarity if it weren't for the look on his friend’s face, pointedly reminding him of the recent circumstances and his indifferent part in them.



“So mister, I’m giving myself a green light to give you my current opinion of you.”



A pointed finger right at his face caused his eyes to momentarily cross.



He blinked.



Angel mouth, currently set in a straight line, opened, clearly intending to tell Cordelia off once and for all. “Now, just a minute…”



Apparently, for Cordelia, a minute was too long, for she went head-on with what she had wanted to say even before Angel finished uttering the last word.



“You disowned him for God’s sake! That was harsh. You may not have said the words but your inaction spoke louder than words ever could. That stung me! A partial observer!”



Angel had given up on cutting into her fast spoken words, but he did allow himself a snort at what she described herself as.



“You could’ve given your permission to the mating---” Angel was sure that Cordelia didn’t pause there dreamily, he was confident of that. His shoes were intensely captivating all of a sudden. “--- kept Claim and let Spike stay in the twisted thing you call family. You didn’t. You just took a pair of blunt scissors and cut every tie you ever shared with him. Do you know what happens when you cut something with blunt anything?” She waited until Angel raised his head. He then had all but a second to wonder if that was permission for him to speak before she smirked. “Well, I’m sure you do.”



Angel blatantly shot her a bored look. He wondered how long she was planning that one. However, it didn’t seem like an invitation for him to voice his all but useless opinion at this time, for she continued speaking, “I would be the first to admit that Spike can be infuriating.” Cordelia snorted and rolled her eyes at the euphemism. “And I think sometimes even more than when he didn’t have a soul!”



Angel couldn’t help but raise his eyebrows in concurrence at that fact.



A moment later, Angel was taken aback at a look that befell Cordelia’s face. He didn’t like that sad and lost expression. He hated how it reminded him of his friend their first year living in Los Angeles. How when she lost her cool façade she …



It never hit him before how Cordelia reminded him of Spike. He put a halt to those thoughts before they opened a can of worms that aimed to give answers to a lot of questions better left in the past.



“I’ll think about it.”



Cordelia actually looked startled. So it wasn’t an act. Or if it was, she had truly improved in five years.



He repeated, “I’ll think about going, Cordy. I think I understand. You’re like the mother hen to Spike’s yearlong infantile chick; I can’t blame you for being pulled into that role. He does personify it better than anyone I know.” Angel liked the hard upset look on Cordelia Chase’s face more than what was under the mask. It just struck too close to home.



He stood up and rubbed the back of his neck casually. “I really don’t know what you think would happen if I went, but I’ll do it for your peace of mind at least.”



The tall brunet took a few steps towards the door, feeling every imaginable stake thrown at his back.



“Besides, maybe after I sleep on it, those diversionary points Gunn mentioned would make sense.” He let out a sound as if he remembered something. “And please don’t use my secretary as a spy.”



Angel opened the door, and let it close softly behind him. He started walking to his office, ignoring the dumbfounded look on Harmony’s face. He meant what he said to Cordelia. He would think about it. But he really didn’t want to go. Raven must have sent the card knowing that Angel would not accept it, or that if he had, he would flaunt his claim on Spike to the Underworld… and Angel- even if Lore had yet to be fulfilled. Angel wouldn’t be fooled into that position.



Unless…



~ I went in with a plan? ~ He thought as he closed his office door behind him. His personal elevator caught his eye and started up the thoughts once more.



Cordelia’s revelation concerning Spike’s slow killing of himself shocked him more than he chanced to reveal. He didn’t know it was that bad, he honestly thought that Spike was coping better than him. Although with the events prior to reinstating Claim, he couldn’t blame him. It figured that the vampire was too proud to ask for help from a veteran. That must have been the only reason, right?



Angel found his feet moving towards the twin metal doors, feeling tired all of a sudden. What did he tell Cordelia? Sleep on it? Yes. He will proceed to sleep on the matter right now.



The answers will come to him in the morning.







*~*~*~*~*~*