“Ms Morgan will see you now.”
Duncan MacLeod looked up from his copy of Newsweek at the pretty blonde at the receptionist desk. He set the magazine aside and got to his feet. “That's very nice, but I'm waiting for-”
“Yes, I know. She'll take you to him.” The blonde glanced nervously over her shoulder, then gave him what he was sure she thought was a reassuring smile. “Take the elevator up to the 66th floor, and she'll meet you there.”
Clamping down on his irritation, he nodded shortly and walked towards the bank of elevators. Methos was going to owe him big for this. As it was, if it weren't for the story of the Slayer and her vampire, he would never have agreed to waste his day dealing with the bureaucracy that was Wolfram & Hart. He hadn't met Buffy, but he figured that anybody capable of the kind of patience that was required to put up with Methos for more than a few hours was all right by him. And she spent night after night around him! Duncan figured that put her close to sainthood, so if finding out about a vampire made her happy, he'd be glad to help.
The elevator doors opened to reveal a stunning brunette waiting for him. From her sleekly styled hair to the tips of her expensive designer shoes, she was carefully and exquisitely put together. And the red lips that were curved in a cool smile told him that she knew exactly what impact she had on a man, and wasn't above using it to get what she wanted. “Mr MacLeod,” she greeted him, her voice a low throaty purr. “May I say how honored we are to have someone of your caliber gracing our office with your presence?”
He sighed. “Let's just get this over with so I can get going, okay?”
“Of course.” She tilted her head towards the large double doors across the open space. “Everybody's waiting, so if you'll just come with me?”
Duncan nodded and followed her over to the doors. They opened onto a large room, unlike any office conference room he'd ever been in. Instead of the beige walls, bland decor, and overly bright fluorescent lighting he'd been expecting, the walls were covered with a deep blood red silk, with iron sconces set at regular intervals. Tall pillar candles cast a dim light and filled the air with a heady scent that he identified almost automatically as a blend of cinnamon and nutmeg, a surprisingly cozy holiday mixture for the clearly Gothic setting in front of him. The long black table was surrounded with high-backed chairs, only the two on either side of one end occupied.
The men that sat in them were obviously human, but there was something about both of them that made the hair on the back of his neck prickle. It was almost like the feeling he got when he was in the presence of another immortal, but he knew that was impossible. Wolfram & Hart hadn't employed immortals for centuries, not since the Wars of the Roses. He dismissed the black man with the shaved head as an overt threat, focusing instead on the other, more slender man. There was an almost visible aura of menace that surrounded him, a sense that he could very easily slit someone's throat and watch coldly as they died at his feet. It was the same feeling that he sometimes got around Methos, the knowledge that here was a man equally as capable of watching dispassionately as thousands died as he was of taking great enjoyment in the prolonged torture and extended death of a single person.
“Mr MacLeod,” the dangerous man greeted him in a clipped, lightly accented voice. “We have been asked to ascertain the reason behind your request to meet with-”
“Shove it, Wes,” the black man said, before turning a hard look on Duncan. “Look, let's get to the point. What do you want with the boss, huh?”
“I have some questions about what happened a while ago,” he stated flatly. “And that's all I'm saying until I see him.”
Wesley studied him for a few seconds, then slowly nodded. “Get him,” he said to the woman behind Duncan's shoulder, his eyes never leaving the immortal's face. She sauntered away amid a whisper of silk and perfume, leaving all three men waiting in a silence that grew tenser by the moment.
Duncan was almost ready to call the meeting a loss and walk out, when the door at the opposite end of the room opened, and the vampire walked in. With just the first look, it was easy to see why he had become a legend in both the human and otherworldly realms. He was tall, broad-shouldered and dark-haired, but what caught the eye was the easy assurance and casual arrogance that was visible in every line of his body. Leather and satin were wrapped around him in an outfit that was almost certainly custom tailored, probably at enough cost to feed a small African nation for several years. His eyes were the real tell, though- cold and calculating like a snake's, they held a hint of amusement that made Duncan's stomach tighten. At least the immortals he had faced in The Game were human once, with all of the attendant virtues and weaknesses that humanity carried. This, though... this was a demon wearing the skin of a man, as close to pure evil given human form as anything he'd ever seen, and Duncan both hated and feared him on sight.
Angelus sank into the chair at the head of the table, waving one hand towards the place at the foot. “Have a seat. I heard you were asking about me, and I gotta say, I'm always flattered when people take an interest, but I'm hoping you have a good reason for dragging me out of bed in the middle of the afternoon.”
Duncan sat down slowly, taking a deep breath to try and banish the unusual onslaught of unease that he felt in the vampire's presence. He didn't bother with preliminaries that might extend the time he had to be around him, but launched right into his reason for being there. “I needed to ask you about the night you attacked the Black Thorn, and the rumors that have been circulating since then.”
“And what kind of rumors might those be?” The big man chuckled, leaning back in his chair like some kind of ancient king reclining upon his throne.
“They said you died, that everyone who fought with you died as well.”
“Well, my first question would be to find out who 'they' is, since I know none of my own would've said a word.” Not a glance was spared for his lieutenants, but the threat of Angelus's displeasure crackled in the air around them all the same.
Duncan hesitated for a second. Methos hadn't exactly said to keep him out of it, but what little he knew about his sometime friend's reputation as The Immortal made him think Angelus might not welcome the inquiry. Still, letting an enemy know that you weren't dead had to be a good thing, right? “I have a friend in Rome with, shall we say, a bit of an interest about it.”
Angelus laughed, a rich, rolling sound that filled the room. “The Immortal,” he stated. “Who probably wants to know if I'm going to be paying dear, sweet Buffy a visit anytime soon to try and win her heart away from him, is that right?”
What was he supposed to say to that? Actually, he couldn't care less about you, it's the one she loves that he's asking about. “He likes to know what's going on.”
“Yeah, I just bet he does. Well, you can tell him that we're all just fine, we appreciate the concern, and as long as he keeps Buffy on the other side of the Atlantic, he's welcome to her.”
He nodded. “So all of your people made it, then?”
Angelus's eyes narrowed as he studied the man at the far end of the table. “Actually, we did lose someone,” he said slowly. “My childe didn't survive the fight. He went down swinging, though, so I wouldn't feel too bad for him.”
“I'm sorry to hear that,” Duncan replied. “My condolences on your loss. And my friend did want me to tell you that if you needed assistance with anything...”
“Oh, I've got all the assistance here I could ever need.” A snap of the fingers summoned the woman back to the vampire's side. She slid gracefully into his lap, one hand stroking his satin-covered chest, practically purring as she rubbed her cheek over his shoulder. Angelus didn't even look at her, just smirked at Duncan and asked, “Care to join us?”
His stomach tightened at the mere thought of the demon's hands on his skin. “Maybe another time.”
“Suit yourself.” One large hand slid up beneath the woman's skirt and she shifted in his lap, uttering a soft groan of pleasure.
Duncan was beginning to wonder if he was supposed to get up and leave, or stay put for the show when the dangerous man spoke. “Charles, why don't you show Mr MacLeod out?”
The black man rose and headed for the door, pausing until Duncan rose and joined him. A long, drawn-out moan sounded behind them just before the doors closed, and they walked in silence towards the elevators. When the doors slid open, Duncan stepped inside, followed closely by his guide. As they began their descent, he asked, “Does that happen at a lot of meetings?”
He shrugged. “Boss has his own way of handlin' stuff. Me, I figure it's a vamp thing, but as long as I don't have to join in, they can do what they want, y'know?”
“Mmm. And the other vampire, the one that died... did he do that kind of thing, too?”
Gunn snorted. “Spike was a hellraiser, that was for sure, but that? Nah, he was a one-woman vamp, had it too bad for his Slayer to really look at anybody else.”
“What about Angelus? I thought he and the Slayer were involved as well.” Methos had told him about the great doomed love affair, although Duncan hadn't seen any sign of that in the vampire that was currently sitting in the conference room fingering his assistant.
“He was- look, can I trust you not to go tattling to your friend? Cause some things went down here that really changed us all, but some people, especially the Slayer, might not understand, and I promised to help my boss stay in one piece.” Duncan nodded and Gunn hit the button that stalled the elevator, then turned to face him. “Angel was trying to help take down this group called the Black Thorn. They were basically hell's guys here on earth, and he figured that while we might not stop 'em all the way, we could at least slow 'em down, make 'em hurt a little. And we were all down with that, figured the more damage we could do, the better.”
He studied the other man for several moments, then asked quietly, “So what went wrong?”
“Don't know if you could call it wrong, just... not really somethin' we figured on. See, Angel had to get into the Circle, get 'em to accept him, and that meant doin' some stuff that was pretty wacked. Stuff that he really couldn't do with his soul.” Gunn waited until he saw comprehension dawn in Duncan's eyes, nodding to confirm the suspicion. “Guess he asked Wes to help him remove it, probably figured we'd all be dead, or else someone would shove it back in, but it didn't really work that way. The fight went down like we planned, and I'm pretty sure that I died just like Spike did, but somehow I woke up back in Wolfram & Hart afterwards. Wes was there, and Angelus, too, and that's when we found out.”
“Found out what?”
“Angelus joined up with the Black Thorn before we made our move. And with everybody else dead, he's it: head honcho, top vamp in charge.” The man sighed and reached for the control panel, setting the car in motion again. “Wes and me, we're just tryin' to make the best of it. So far, he's not that bad, seems more interested in playin' the demons against each other than really makin' trouble for people. Guess if we gotta have a demon in charge of things around here, might as well be him.”
“I see.” Neither man said anything for the remainder of the trip downstairs, each too caught up in their own thoughts to make idle small talk. Just before he stepped off the elevator, Duncan turned to look at the man. “If you decide you want a change for some reason, you can usually leave me a message at Raven's Rest, in New York.” Amanda had offered her new nightclub as a way to communicate, and something about this man told him it might be needed one day.
Gunn offered his hand for a brief, businesslike clasp. “Thanks, man. I'll remember that.” He hit the button to go back up, flashing Duncan a quick grin just before the doors closed between them.
Upstairs in the conference room, Wesley watched impassively as Lilah writhed in Angelus's lap, mewling and moaning while he brought her to a quick climax. When she slumped back against the broad chest, he asked idly, “Are you quite through, then?”
Angelus laughed and eased his hand out from beneath her skirt, pushing her back to her feet and licking his fingers clean. “Need to lighten up and enjoy life a little more, Wes.”
“Indeed,” was the dry response. Icy blue eyes fixed on Lilah, and a faint smile tugged at his lips. “Make sure Mr MacLeod has left the building, please.”
She nodded and headed off to do as he asked, hips swaying in a tantalizing rhythm that held both men's attention until she had left the room. Angelus leaned back in his chair, sliding a hand down to cup and stroke his erection. “Well now, that wasn't very nice. Who am I gonna bend over the table and fuck now?”
Wesley's gaze slid over the prominent bulge beneath the leather. “Perhaps your pet would welcome the attention.”
“Hmm, not a bad idea. I have been kinda neglecting him lately.” Angelus moaned low in his throat and thrust up against his palm. He slowly let his hand fall away as he stretched and rose to his feet, well aware of the way the human's eyes lingered on him. With the sudden strike of a snake, he lashed out, grabbing hold of Wesley's shirt, dragging him around the edge of the table until the lean body was pressed against his own. Bending to claim the man's mouth in a savage kiss filled with thrusting tongues and rubbing hips, he smiled when he drew back and looked into glazed, lust-filled eyes. “Of course, you know you're still getting fucked later, right?'
“Uh-huh.” Angelus laughed at the dazed response, slid a hand down to squeeze Wesley's dick, then turned and headed for his private elevator. He'd let Wesley have his fun bending Lilah over the table, even if he made him pay for it later. For now, though, the prospect of an afternoon playing with his pet was too good to pass up.
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Author's Chapter Notes:
Story takes place after NFA, non-comics canon, so The Immortal's involved. This is a crossover with Highlander, and as I have only a passing familiarity with their 'verse, may not be fully in keeping with their timeline.