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chapter seven – the prism

As soon has as they piled out of the limo, she, Willow and Buffy were pushed through the first floor lobby by a green demon in a red suit then shoved into the first open elevator. Moments later, in the main reception area on the seventh floor, a perky blond woman in a very short pink dress greeted them. She introduced herself as Angel's executive assistant. She was cordial enough until she saw Buffy. Lillie could tell they had some history as the secretary flashed her fangs – tipping Lillie off to the fact she was a vampire. Buffy reared back, a stake magically appearing in her hand, ready to strike. But Willow gave Buffy a stern glance and Lillie watched the Slayer return the pointy weapon to its place in her jacket pocket.

Lillie exhaled. What a start to her first visit to LA.


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Buffy walked slowly. Here she was in the universe's most evil law firm, the legal playground of soulless demons everywhere – except for the two vampires with souls, she knew – and she wasn't wigging out. Wasn't so bad once you got inside, admitted Buffy. Maybe that's what Angel realized when he accepted the job. Still her Slayer senses did perk up quite a bit once they arrived in the reception area. Wasn't exactly good office etiquette to have a vampire tramp like Harmony greet visitors. Instinctively, Buffy had reached into her pocket and pulled out a stake when the blonde stood up from behind the receptionist desk and said “hey, Buffy” like it was all normal. But Willow had stopped what could have been a nasty melee. So Buffy allowed Harmony to usher them, ever so matter-of-factly, into Angel's office. Then thankfully, she disappeared. Angel might have a problem if Buffy staked his secretary, she figured. Still, before Harmony left, she said something to Angel about a mug of otter blood. It wasn't your regular office, Buffy sighed. Then again, how would she know? Buffy's ‘offices' had consisted of the Magic Box, Watcher headquarters, crypts, cemeteries, the kitchen on Revello Drive and fast-food restaurants.

Damn it! She'd been doing the avoidy thing ever since she'd walked into Angel's office. God, she was being such a dork. There was Spike, on the other side of the room, and she'd froze. He was across the room, standing, not breathing, but actually there, in front of her. Close enough that if she took a few more steps, she could reach out and touch him, feel his cool skin against hers.

“Buffy,” he'd whispered when she'd walked into the office.

“Spike,” she'd said after two years of believing he was dust, and dreaming about him every night. But that's all she could do, mumble his name, and stand motionless on the other side of the room.


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Spike was close enough to Buffy to touch her for the first time (or maybe the second time) in more than two years – or a little more than two days if he believed his own dreams.

She looked good. She smelled even better. Like rapture, the delights of her scent were almost more enticing to him than staring at her face. Her aroma drifted across the room, through his entire being, saturating his soul. It took all of his willpower not to take the three steps needed to close the gap between them, and pull her into his arms.

But he couldn't.

He shuddered, ever so slightly, as he became keenly aware of the tension around him, which he wasn't only sensing from Buffy. Fred's eyes were probing him, examining his every movement and reaction. He tilted his head to look at her. He'd thought about Fred a lot the past few months. He'd even tried to convince himself that she might be able to help him forget…no, never forget, he shook his head. Then Spike inhaled, singeing his lungs with Buffy's scent.


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This was an apocalyptic meeting, realized Lillie. But it was not her Apocalypse. She really didn't have to deal with it. Nonetheless, she was in Los Angeles for a reason, as the voices had told her – destiny and all that – so she did as she was told. And since she was at Wolfram and Hart, the bastion of evil in this universe according to Buffy, she might as well enjoy the drama. It did offer some funny moments even if Lillie was the only one to see the humor. The averted glances, mumbled greetings, downcast eyes, damp handshakes and audible sighs (even from the vampires) made everything more special. She smiled, and would have laughed aloud if the room wasn't so righteously silent.


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Willow had a good idea what everyone was thinking, and she didn't even have to read their minds. Lillie was stunned. Too much going on for her to keep up, even if she was Ms. Percepto Girl in Paris. LA wasn't her kind of town. Buffy? Well, Buffy was freaked. Too much history and too many dead former lovers in one room. As usual, however, Willow was stymied by the two vampires. Never much between their ears for her to latch onto. They'd always been difficult – if not impossible – to read.

So she decided to examine Fred, who was sitting on the large sofa in Angel's office staring at her hands. Someone had mentioned she'd been sick and had only recently started to feel better. That might explain the ashen shade of gray of her face, thought Willow. Fred was a very different girl from the one she'd met a few years before. She was still very tall, thin and coltish with those unbelievably large brown eyes, but today the previously talkative, bright and cheerful Texan, looked almost as dead as the two vampires.

And woe! What about Angel? He looked…well, he looked nearly haggard. Very un-demony, observed Willow. Not the vampire she'd re-ensouled a few years back at that hotel he called home before Wolfram and Hart.

“Buffy, please sit down.” Angel said.

Willow had expected him to be the one to break the silence. Angel gestured to Buffy to sit in the big chair in front of his desk. No one else had taken that seat. Willow stood next to Spike near the windowsill.

“As I started to explain on the phone, we found a demon that claims to have information about seven powerful Wiccas from a hell dimension.”

Fred's head jerked up, and she shot a glance at Spike, with a very real look of panic in her eyes, noted Willow. Spike nodded to her, which seemed to calm her instantly.

“Buffy, have you ever heard of a Zeklar demon?”

“No, but not a big deal, millions of demons, my job is to figure out a way to kill them.”

“This demon is not the danger, at least not in this dimension. It came here to tell us about Seven Wiccas from its home dimension that are on their way here. Unlike the Zeklar, they can build power in our dimension by co-existing within human bodies.” Angel was fidgeting. Not a good sign from the usually calm and collected vampire, reasoned Willow.

“Yesterday, Fred fainted after being visited by one of these Wiccas,” Angel continued as all eyes turned to look at Fred. All except Angel and Spike, who both kept their gaze on Buffy.

“Buffy, the Zeklar told Fred that she or whatever took her over was the harbinger of the Seven Wiccas.”

Willow shifted on her feet uncomfortably. She really didn't like the way Angel kept using the word Wicca. Didn't sound like these alternate universe or dimension-jumping creatures were true Wiccans. At least not to Willow.

“But we can stop them,” said Angel.

As Angel spoke, the stunned expression on Fred's face told Willow that Angel was sharing new information.

“Exactly when did the Zeklar tell you this, Peaches?” Spike asked his voice hard.

“Yesterday," replied Angel. “When he told me that Buffy would be taken over by the fifth of the Seven Wiccas, the one called ‘Color.'”

“Wait a damn minute.” Buffy stood suddenly. Willow could see she was pissed, and her stance screamed full Slayer mode.

“When did we start trusting...what's it called? Zeklar demons?" she demanded. "This thing comes up with a story and just like that, it's all good?”

“Buffy–"

“No, Angel. Don't 'Buffy' me. I traveled here to see…” she paused, glancing quickly at Spike. “And you tell me that there's another Apocalypse on the way, and I'm going to turn into a witch?”

The glare she gave Angel was almost deadly, thought Willow, as she watched Buffy become the personification of the expression "stomping mad."

“I don't get it. This is Wolfram and Hart - the power brokers of evil,” Buffy shouted. “A Zeklar demon tells Mr. CEO of Evil, Inc. and his team a fantastic tale. And you guys buy it, just like that?”

“Buffy,” Angel began again.

“No, let me get this straight. I'm part of a group of seven Wiccas slated to destroy the world as soon as they get a full team of players together?” Buffy paused to catch a breath. “But, hold on. We can save the world; we just have to stop these witches from what? Having a party?”

Buffy raised her arms in mock helplessness. “Somebody, please, help me out here.”

“Charm,” said Fred, her voice barely above a whisper.

Willow, along with everyone else, turned to Fred, and waited.

“I am the fourth Wicca, the younger,” she said, standing awkwardly, her body swaying as she appeared to struggle to remain on her feet. Willow watched Fred's face as a white veil drifted over her eyes. She looked afraid but when Spike moved quickly toward her, she gestured for him to stop with one hand while clutching at her throat with the other.

“Buffy is Color. Beauty will follow,” she continued, removing her hand from around her neck. Then as if she'd been punched in the stomach, she wretched forward violently, bending at the waist.

A sudden rush of air swept by Willow as Angel moved rapidly from behind his desk, catching Fred before she hit the floor.

With her body nestled in his arms, Angel headed toward the door, and shouted over his shoulder as he walked out of the office, “I'm taking her to the clinic. I'll let you know something as soon as I can.”

And he was gone.

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