Thralls

Chapter 15

"Oh. OOoooohhh." Lorne put both hands up to hold his aching skull together. He had a pounding headache. He dared to open his eyes a slit, and saw the perky little flying girl was up and standing, looking much fitter than he felt. Obviously *she* was OK. But, he was laying on the floor, his brains spilled out all across the tiles...or at least it felt like they were.

Wesley was kneeling next to him, talking rapidly. That was what had woken Lorne up from his blissfully unconscious and painfree state.

"Lorne. Lorne. Look at me. Look at the light. How do you feel? Lorne? Can you tell me the date? Where are we? Uh, who is the president? Lorne?" The researcher was insistent. Wesley was waving a small penlight wildly around. Lorne squeezed his eyes shut. No way. If he tried to follow the gyrations of that light, he was going to throw up. He might vomit anyway. Sounded like a good idea. Felt like an even better one.

"Wesley!" Someone else. Not familiar. Lorne risked opening his eyes again. A slightly older man, bending down. "Do you want an ambulance?" The man asked calmly. Lorne snorted in disbelief. Who was this guy and where was he from?

Oh, yeah. Like an ambulance ride was going to do him any good. Even LA hospitals had no clue how to treat an injured demon. Aside from locking them up and throwing away the key. Or calling in a certain interested law firm, and getting in on a good payday. Wolfram and Hart did not skimp on the rewards they paid for demons. The Host shuddered.

Doyle piped up next. "Uh, princess....I wouldn't."

That made Lorne's eyes fly open. It wasn't wise to keep your eyes closed around Cordy. Then the pungent smell of ammonia filled Lorne's nostrils. He snapped upright, coughing and choking, sinuses burning. Tears coursed down his face as his throat burned like fire.

"Lorne..." Doyle began, apologetically, before he was cut off by Cordelia.

"There," she announced with satisfaction. "I told you he would be just fine." Her eyes sharpened, the pupils dilating, and she leaned in closer, looking at him in a manner that was decidedly....odd. Lorne flinched back. Noticed she wasn't the only one looking, staring.

Lorne glared at her, then decided to include all of them in the glare. It was then he realized his shirt...his shirt(!) was unbuttoned and open, he was exposed! He grabbed at the edges, holding them closed. Cordelia's eyes followed his hands, widened. Raked over his bared flesh, the rippled muscle. Looked right at his triple navel. Became intrigued. Lorne never buttoned up faster in his life. To the throat.

"Now that you have tried to kill me, do you suppose that someone might tell me what the hell is going on?" The green demon snapped, moving to put Wesley and the other man between himself and Cordelia. Doyle assisted in that endeavor, herding the human female away from him. Lorne breathed a sigh of relief, then raised his fingers to rub cautiously at his temples.

"Are you alright?" Fred asked quietly. Lorne slitted his eyes. Softening his tone.

"Yes, Fredi-kins, I'll live." He told her with a patience he didn't feel at the moment. He looked around, his eyes finding Gunn on the outskirts of the group, axe in hand. Ah. Hope. Gunn would speak sense.

"Just what was so urgent that I had to run down here and get the stuffing knocked out of me?" Lorne asked the big man, appalled to hear the almost-whine in his voice.

"Angel." Gunn responded, then frowned. "Not sure exactly why it was so urgent. But he took his thralls, and Wesley out to breakfast."

Lorne stared. Waited. Put an inquiring look on his face when Gunn didn't say anything else. "And that is bad? Why?" Sounded downright polite.

"During the day. In the convertible. With the top down." Wesley added to the conversation, clearly coming close to exploding with questions. "Then he sat in the cafe, next to the window, in the full sun."

"I am guessing he is not extra crispy." Lorne hazarded. That would be the expected result of a vampire basking in the sun. And hardly reason to call him if Angel was toast. Unless they wanted him to help with the wake. But he doubted that.

"No." Cordelia agreed. "He came back to the Hotel. And dragged his...*boys*....upstairs. No hello. Just up the stairs and behind a closed door. Again." She sounded outraged, her generous lips pouting.

"Huh." Lorne said.

"In the middle of the day." Cordelia added that telling bit of news, brows lowering.

"Hmmm." The Host offered. He looked around expectantly. Someone had to be able to do better than that. His eyes lit on the older man next to Wes, who was regarding him with no little interest. Lorne held out his hand. "Hello. I am Lorne. Some call me the Host. And you are...?"

"Giles. Rupert Giles." The bespectacled man said. English accent. Educated, probably upper-class, Lorne cataloged the man.

"Welcome to our fair city." Lorne said. "I don't suppose you...." He waved a hand vaguely.

"I...we came in on the tail end, I am afraid. That is Buffy over there." He indicated the small, blonde, missile-woman. "The slayer. We came down from Sunnydale. To find out what had happened to Riley, Graham and Xander. When we got here, they..." He looked around the quiet room, everyone was watching and listening to him. "Uhm, they were grouped around the door to Angel's suite attempting to get inside. Buffy," The blonde girl frowned fiercely, and Lorne took a step back, "...dashed up the stairs in order to assist. I accompanied her."

"You are her watcher?" Lorne guessed, receiving a nod in the affirmative. "I believe that was right about when I came in." Lorne said.

"No." Came Fred's soft disagreement. "You got here after they broke the door down and Giles tried to stop Angel with his cross. And it didn't work." She lifted her gaze to the much taller demon's. She looked so unhappy, Lorne reached out and pulled her into a hug.

Cordy's eyes narrowed.

"That sounds...unusual." Lorne agreed. Patting her thin back. He freed one hand and waved it in a circle to include everyone in the room. "They all in the know?" He directed the question at Doyle before he said any more.

"What? Oh, yes. You can talk in front of them." The smaller demon said.

"Yes, Giles is a colleague of long standing." Wesley jumped in.

"Fine. It is quite expected that a vampire with a bloodcircle be able to withstand sunlight and holy items. Especially if he or she was strong enough to begin with. Not 100%, but not a big surprise, either." Lorne told them.

"How about a stake to the heart?" The girl, Buffy, asked hostilely. "I didn't miss." She said savagely to the older man.

"Well, well. Now that takes some doing." Lorne said, pointing at her with one hand, holding Fred tucked into his chest with the other. She seemed happy enough to be there. "But why stake Angel?"

"He stole my boyfriend." She snapped at him, baring her unimpressive teeth, aggressively. He looked at her. The little squirt was Pissed Off. Huh.

"You staked Angel because he stole your boyfriend?" Lorne asked carefully. It hardly seemed a killing offense. He'd thought about Angel that way himself, once or twice. He decided to keep it to himself, seeing the gleam in her eyes.

"And he rubbed my face in it." She said hotly. "In front of everyone."

"Angel and Buffy...used to be a couple." Wesley clarified. Lorne shot him a helpless look. "Their break up was...complicated." No, really? Lorne never would have guessed.

"Better than daytime TV." He muttered. Fred giggled. He hugged her tighter for an instant, then went back to the normal hug. He had a feeling he was here more as a group counselor than anything else. He sighed. So much easier if he could get them down to the club, and up on stage.

"Anyone up for a drive? First round on the house." He asked hopefully. He could use a drink.

"We should check on them." Wesley said into the pause. "Angel wasn't looking well."

Cordelia snorted and Lorne looked over at her. She held up her hands and plunged a finger through a ring made by the index finger and thumb of her other hand. Lorne blinked, flushed.

"Could you...." Doyle began. Lorne looked less than enthusiastic. Barging in on a bloodcircle was not the best choice to make. It was *dangerous*. Vampires with new thralls were unpredictable. Not that most were all that civilized in the first place. Even Angel was probably not up for company at the moment.

"I'll go." Cordelia snapped, when Lorne hesitated.

"No!" They all shouted in unison.

^^^^^^^^^^^^

Lorne paused outside the door. Doorway, he corrected himself. The door lay on it's side, in several jagged pieces.

"Hello?" He called out reluctantly. There was silence. Then...

"What is it with you people?" Another voice he didn't recognize. And growling...Not Angel growling. Was there another vampire up here? One none of the AI team thought he needed to know about? Christ on a crutch! He swallowed hard, backing away. He turned, and came face to face with a scowling Cordelia, who was standing hands on hips. He almost jumped out of his skin, his hearts leaping into his throat. Both of them.

"Well?" She snapped. The growling grew louder at the sound of her voice. "Are they?"

"Are they what?" Lorne asked automatically, distracted. This had not been a good idea, coming up stairs. In fact it was the worst idea of the year. So far.

"Are they having sex?" She asked, impatiently, crossing her arms.

A scuffle sounded behind him, and Lorne whirled towards it, without answering her absurd question. A young man was grappling with a....thing. A were-something. And losing. His frantic grey eyes met Lorne's red ones. The were-thing was trying to get to Lorne. All bristling claws and teeth.

"Are you all idiots?" The young man asked, straining to hold the agitated animal. "RUN!"

Lorne thought for one fraction of a second about leaving Doyle's troublesome princess to her fate, before swearing, grabbing her, tucking her under one arm, and running.

Hyena. He thought as he sailed down the three flights, this time on his feet. That was a hyena.

neichan