Episode 6.9 Home for the Holidays

Tracy, Kara, Soundingsea, and Wolfling

Without looking at it, Gunn picked up his mug and took a sip from it. Almost immediately he grabbed a napkin, sputtering and spraying coffee into it.

Spike gave him a quick glance before returning his attention to the small TV sitting on the concession counter. "What the hell is wrong with you? Oh, bugger!" Jerking his whole body, Spike squeezed the trigger on the game controller repeatedly, but it was no use; a death march began to play through the television's tiny speakers.

Still pawing at his mouth, Gunn finally pulled out a long silvery strand. "Tinsel. Angel, this stuff has got to go. It's interfering with my morning caffeine now."

Gunn and Spike turned to look across the lobby, which was festooned from end to end with garlands of plastic holly and metallic silver spirals wrapped in multi-colored lights. At each dip in the swags was hung a different tree ornament, and at each point a wrinkled plastic red bow held the garlands in place. On the far side of the room, up against the poster-covered windows was a tree - an artificial tree, covered from top to bottom with a mish-mash of Christmases past, present, and tacky.

Angel sat on the floor next to the tree, surrounded by plastic-handled bags and open boxes. "Where's your holiday spirit?"

"Back with the holiday, and what are you doing?" Carefully checking his mug, Gunn took another swig of coffee.

"It's a train set," Angel said, putting down another section of track. "Can you believe that people just give these away to thrift stores? I hit it big with more ornaments too - a buck for a whole box. The clearance sales were pretty good last night at the department stores, but the selection was down."

"Yeah." Gunn nodded, not bothering to hide the sarcasm in his voice. "Because the middle of January is when most people are getting rid of Christmas."

Spike put down his controller. "Never been a fan myself, what with the birth of the guy with all the crosses and holy water. But you know, to each his own. Vampires who celebrate Christmas, really no different than rabbis enjoying a ham and cheese on rye. You'd think every vampire would be falling over himself to put up a twelve foot fake tree with a bad spot."

"It doesn't have a bad spot." Angel stood up. "Okay, maybe one spot, but we filled it in with stuff. Nobody who sees it now would know."

With raised eyebrows, Gunn tilted his head and eyed the tree's far side near the wall.

Glaring at him, Angel turned the tree slightly in its stand, making sure the spot with the missing branch was back against the wall. "Look, we rescued it from a thrift store; you can't expect it to be perfect. It just needs, you know, a little TLC."

Spike snorted. "And here I always thought that Charlie Brown was a round-headed kid with a stupid sweater and not an over-gelled, obsessed vampire."

"I'm not obsessed," Angel said. "I just, well, you know, thought it would be nice. We could stretch out the season, have a little party, and celebrate like a family."

Spike sat up on his stool, resting his hands on his thighs. "Like the time in Paris when Darla and Dru decided to throw a party and ate three-quarters of the guests?" He smirked.

"Spike! Not that kind of party." Angel glared at him.

Gunn finished his coffee. "Well, it is kind of slow. With the way the streets were clogged and people were packing the stores you'd think evil would be out in force. Maybe they were but were just fighting over the last Tickle-Me Elmo." Sliding his mug across the counter, Gunn leaned on his elbows. "What the heck? At least you're putting your energy into something that doesn't involve Evil, Inc."

Spike cocked his head back, looking at Gunn. "It is true that the brood factor is way down. Good to see that he's moving on from the recent break-up with his much brighter half."

"I don't brood," Angel said.

"Uh-huh," said Gunn.

"Speaking of which, did you drop a prezzie off to Nina's niece Christmas Eve?" asked Spike.

"What?" Angel looked momentarily startled. Shrugging, he reached over to the tree, adjusting a toy soldier ornament with chipped paint. "I thought it might be better to give Nina's family some space. Kinda stayed home, kept it low-key."

Gunn nodded. "With the world's smallest turkey and no cranberries?"

At Angel's confused look, Gunn laughed. "Or maybe it was a pint of AB neg, just to do something festive. Personally, I hit the old neighborhood. Some of the churches pull together a big feast for those that are doing without. I helped dish out the mashed potatoes and ladle up the gravy. It was a good way to catch some old familiar faces and nice to see that a lot of them were working my side of the serving line."

"Whereas I made the most of my non-Christian roots and went to Go-Go-Rama." Spike looked between Gunn and Angel. "What? It was a week-long bacchanal, celebrating the Roman feast of Saturnalia with buy-one-get-one-free drinks and strippers in - and out of - togas. I can tell you my New Year's Eve wasn't dull."

"Neither was mine. Black tie, prime rib, champagne, lovely woman on my arm who, for the record, wasn't there to steal anything, and a kiss at midnight." Gunn sat back, smiling.

Then Spike and Gunn looked to Angel.

"I was going to watch the ball drop at Times Square," Angel said, "but Dick Clark wasn't there, and it just wasn't the same."

"Yeah, that's... man, that's boring as hell." Gunn snickered, shaking his head. "My grandma used to do that when I was a kid, but, then again, I suppose you were there at the beginning of time when Dick started dropping his ball."

Angel frowned and starting digging in bags of Christmas clearance, pretending that he wasn't listening.

"Don't go insulting hell like that." Spike smirked. "Hell is many things; boring's not among them. Speaking of hell, I wonder how the former god-king spent her holidays. Can't imagine she was happy about all the attention being lavished upon another deity."

Angel opened his mouth to reply and then stopped before saying, "Actually, I haven't seen her lurking around lately. I mean, I'm sure that we must have passed each other at some point, but I'm not sure when."

Gunn shrugged. "She's probably been up on the roof, looking for patterns in pigeon droppings. Or, you know, maybe she's just avoiding the decorations. They might be too damn scary even for her."

Angel stood up triumphant, holding a Santa standing next to a red car and wearing a Hawaiian shirt. "What?" He flipped a switch, and a warped, tinny version of 'Little Saint Nick' started to play as Santa gave a lackluster shake of his booty. "Damn, needs new batteries. We need it working for the party."

"Yeah, they get you with the batteries every time," Spike agreed, rolling his eyes.

"I hope this one doesn't need them, too." Angel pulled a second, more traditionally dressed animatronic Santa out of a department store bag.

"Angel," Gunn asked, "why are you so hyped up about us all sitting down together for some eggnog, half a month after the fact?"

Before Angel could answer, the front door opened. A little out of breath, Connor came in, dropping his backpack on the reception desk. "Hey, sorry I'm late."

---

Watch the Credits

• Episode 6.9: Home for the Holidays
• Written by: Tracy, Kara, Soundingsea, and Wolfling
• Edited by: Soundingsea, Trepkos, and Jane Davitt
• Story Developed by: Tracy, WesleysGirl, and Jane Davitt
• Produced by: Flaming Muse, The Brat Queen, and Just Human

---

"So, why'd you rush me up here?" Gunn asked, leaning against the closed door inside Angel's office. "The temp gets back, and you decide to clean your office? Which, for the record, severely needs it."

Angel lifted a teetering pile of papers and cursed as a slime-encrusted dagger slipped out of the jumbled mess and clattered to the floor, narrowly missing his foot. "I just need your opinion on Connor's present. Assuming I can find it."

Gunn laughed as Angel picked up more debris from his office floor. "I don't think he'd want your old shoes. Make that shoe. Where's the other one?"

Angel tossed the lone shoe behind his desk, where it landed with a soft thud on the pile of unwashed shirts. "I'm not looking for my shoe. I bought him a present. I'm going to wrap it and everything."

"Would it be that giant box under your desk? The one that says 'Middle Earth Comics & Gaming'?"

With a sigh of relief, Angel swept the remaining papers and books off his desk and replaced them with the package, opening it for Gunn's perusal. "Yep. It's a miniature army set with everything he needs for a complete re-enactment of the Battle of Gettysburg. Look! Brushes, paint, and even landscape stuff."

Angel lifted one of the pieces of green foam that could possibly have been a hill.

Gunn made an odd choking sound, as if swallowing air.

Angel gave him a quizzical look and continued, "The guy at the toy store on Hawthorne - you know, the one with all the dolls and comic books - said it was really popular. Even has instructions for painting the Irish Brigade." He beamed.

Gunn made a strange wheezing sound before replying, "Well, I would have loved one of those when I was a kid, especially if I wanted the bigger kids to help me re-enact battlefield conditions up close and personal. I'm thinking I would have had plenty of offers." He swallowed some sort of snort.

Angel spared Gunn a moment's concern, but when he glanced over Gunn appeared to be smiling broadly without any difficulty breathing. "Oh, good. Connor really deserves the best."

"You couldn't care less about the other temps," Gunn said, watching Angel, "and now you're buying this one Christmas presents? It's not like you. It's... festive. Which is seriously weird."

Looking down, Angel said quickly, "Well, you know, it's a festival. And it's more of a 'Happy Winter' present, and he's so good on the phones, and I need to finish the decorating. Yeah." He backed out the office door and hurried downstairs.

---

"So, how were your exams? They do make you take end-of-term exams, right?" Angel spoke from the lobby floor, where he was lying with his head and upper body under a large plastic reindeer.

Connor leaned over the reindeer to answer. "Finals week, yeah. That was like a month ago. And I think you're supposed to twist Rudolph's nose to start the blinking."

From the top of the stairs, Gunn called, " Hey Spike, wanna come help me throw Angel's stuff into piles? I guarantee it's more fun than watching him decorate, and there's something you gotta see."

"Can't be more dull than this," Spike agreed, heading upstairs.

"The nose. Right." Angel studiously ignored Spike's comment. "So, what are you taking next semester?" Moving over to the windows, Angel started draping them with long strings of cranberries.

"Well, we're on quarters," Connor said, his eyes flicking in evident curiosity after Spike before returning to Angel. "And the quarter started a couple of weeks ago. I just asked for time off until now because I knew the first couple of weeks of class would be hectic, with the way they do drop/add..."

A burst of laughter came from upstairs.

"So you're studying math?" Out of cranberries, Angel flashed a quick smile at Connor before scattering tea-lights on the counter and nestling pine branches around them.

Connor smiled back, looking slightly pained. "Integral calculus. Follow-up on the differential from last quarter. UCLA doesn't accept my AP calc for pre-med. Also, I'm checking off some distribution requirements. You know, liberal arts and stuff."

"Hey, if you need any help with history, I was there for a lot of it." Angel reached into a plastic bag under the tree and pulled out a tin of assorted holiday cookies, marked 50%-off. He opened it, holding it out to Connor.

Connor reached for a cookie and took a bite. "How are you on women's impact on film? I'm in a class on that right now, though it conflicts with Intro Bio plus lab, and that's required for my program. But my friend said that Movies for Credit is a great way to meet chicks."

"Well, I've seen movies. Some of them I didn't even fall into." Angel began to light the candles. "Hey, maybe we could see some together, in an external-to-the-movie way. Or, you know, just hang out. Maybe even this weekend?"

Connor laughed, "Yeah, right. It's bad enough that my parents already think we're dating! We don't need to fuel their suspicions."

"But would it be so bad if they thought we were dating?" Angel replied. "Then you could spend a ton more time at the office, and maybe we could even go on vacation somewhere for a while, or I could take you out to dinner..."

He trailed off when he realized that Connor was looking at him strangely.

"Yeah, 'cause our family isn't quite screwed-up enough," said Connor.

"Family. Yeah. Your, uh, parents and your little sister... how are they doing? Good vacation?" Angel said, steering the conversation back to firmer ground.

"It was great," Connor said, helping himself to another cookie. "We had Christmas Eve at my aunt's place up in the mountains, and of course that was dominated by the football game. I'm not a big fan, but it was a close one. My dad was really into it."

Angel kept himself from wincing at the word 'dad' being applied to someone else. "Sounds like a fine time. How about the rest of your vacation?"

"We went skiing at Sun Valley over New Year's," Connor said. "My sister thinks she can handle moguls, but she got stuck on this double black diamond, and I had to go talk her down, and, oh my god, all this Christmas stuff you're doing is for me, isn't it?"

"What?" Angel shook his head. "No. No, I always decorate, with the tinsel and the Santas. And candles, because they... Okay, yeah. But seriously, it's no big deal, and if you have plans, you know, with your family or - "

Connor interrupted, asking gently, "You wanted to do something this weekend?"

"Maybe just a little thing. A very little, minor," Angel spoke rapidly, his words tumbling over each other in a rush. "Belated Christmas dinner with the entire gang followed by presents and maybe carols, and we could hang more ornaments on the tree, and it would be this Saturday night kind of a thing?"

Connor looked at Angel, shaking his head slightly, the corners of his mouth turned up. "You could've just asked."

"Yeah, but that would be - you know - talking, and we can't have that." Angel crossed his arms, looking at the floor.

"I'll be there," said Connor.

Angel continued, "After all, you have your new family now and I totally and completely respect - " And then Connor's words registered with him, and he looked up. "Wait, what?"

Smiling, Connor asked, "Eight o'clock okay?"

"What - ah, yeah. Yes! Perfect! Great!" Angel tried not to grin like a lunatic.

"You want me to bring anything?" added Connor.

Angel grasped Connor by the shoulders, smiling broadly. "Just you. That's all I need."

Connor raised an eyebrow. "Yeah, okay, now we're back on you making people think that we're dating again, and - "

Angel stepped back, but the grin didn't leave his face. "Right, right, sorry."

Just then, the front doors opened, the noise setting off the traditionally garbed singing and dancing Santa. "I saw Mommy kissing Saaaaaaanta Claus...," chirped the tinny electronic voice as Santa's torso swayed. Angel rushed over and picked it up, fiddling with Santa's belt buckle.

"That your solution to that unearthly din?" Spike asked, walking down the stairs with Gunn right behind him. "Take off Santa's trousers?

"You, you are the Angel, yes?" came a gruff, heavily accented voice. Angel looked up to see the questioner, a middle-aged man wearing a pleated white skirt, an embroidered vest, a puffy white shirt, and a gold-trimmed cap and sandals.

"Underneath the mistletoe last niiiiiii - "

Connor calmly took the Santa from Angel and switched it off.

Shooting an exasperated look at Spike, Angel grinned weakly before answering, "Yes, I'm Angel. Despite what the sign outside might say, I'm here to help."

The man looked cautiously into the lobby before continuing, "We are to be needing the help." He seemed ill at ease, his eyes darting about and taking in Spike, Gunn, and Connor. He paused a moment longer in the doorway, framed in a beam of bright morning sunlight. Finally he entered, followed by a woman whose head-scarf framed her face and allowed a few wispy forehead curls to escape.

Gunn nodded. "You're in the right place."

From behind the woman's voluminous embroidered skirts, a small boy, perhaps eight years old, peeked out his head. He looked longingly at the Santa in Connor's hand. Moving to the end of his mother's reach and then letting go of her hand, he approached Connor and touched the shiny red plastic.

"What, you want me to turn it back on?" Connor asked the boy, squatting down to meet his eyes.

A sharp word from the father made the boy retreat to his mother's side. Cap, vest, and pantaloons gave him an old-fashioned air, but his silent patience distinguished him from typical children, who, in Angel's admittedly limited experience, didn't usually stand still.

Strange or not, clients were clients. With a smile, Angel said, "Come upstairs into my office, and my colleague and I will assist you."

---

The woman sat silently in one of the client chairs, the boy's hand clasped tightly in hers. Still standing, the man sniffed and looked disapprovingly at the piles of debris lurking in the corners of the office.

Gunn whispered to Angel, "Thank you for cleaning up and moving that big-ass box, Gunn."

Angel shot him a guilty glance and said quietly, "Sorry about the mess. Thanks. I owe you one."

"So, I take it you're new in town?" Gunn asked, resting his hands on Angel's desk and looking across it at the potential clients.

The man sat on the edge of the other client chair. "We move to America just now from Greece, only move these several weeks," he replied in halting English.

Gunn looked to the woman for input, but she sat quietly, the boy unmoving at her side.

"What brings you to Angel Investigations?" Angel asked, sitting down and leaning back in his chair.

"The evil in our home village, it hunts us. We come to America, hope to be safe." The man crossed his arms and nodded firmly.

"And what's this evil like?" Angel pressed.

The man's eyes shifted. "Very evil. Bad. It searches for us; myself, my wife and son. We come to America, far away from the evil. But evil follow."

Gunn exhaled in frustration. This line of questioning was going nowhere. Then a small voice caught his attention.

"But I thought - " said the boy in accented but confident English, before his mother shushed him, shaking her head and putting a hand over his mouth.

The father said, "When I said we speak only the English now, this did not send manners back to the old country."

Angel fixed the father with a stare. "What, exactly, do you want us to do for you?"

"Protection for these next nights. When the first full moon after Christ's birth passes, we are safe." The man looked at his family, worry shading his face. "We have money. Can pay you well."

"Protection. Fine. We can handle that," Angel said.

"Okay, first we'll need your names," Gunn said, professional mien in place.

The man hesitated for a long moment before finally saying, "I am Stavros Kokotos. My wife is Eleni, and our son is Nikos."

Gunn had his doubts as to whether those were their real names, but tried not to show it, "And we'll need details about where you're staying." Gunn took notes as the man provided an address and telephone number.

"We'll get a protection detail over there tonight," Angel assured the family as he rose to escort them back down to the lobby.

---

"Please, Babbas, Mama? Is my name saint." Nikos looked longingly at his parents as he reached out and touched the old-fashioned Santa that was lying on the lobby floor where Connor had left it.

"Certainly not," Stavros said. As Angel moved to object, Stavros shook his head firmly. "Such foolish thing is not for you. Mocks tradition." Without another glance at Angel, he ushered the family out the door.

"We'll be in touch," Gunn called as he closed the door behind them. He turned toward Angel. "Something about that seem, I don't know, off to you?"

Angel frowned. "Off how? The clothes? They may have seemed a little out of date - not exactly L.A. style, but..."

"Wouldn't let us give the lad that robotic Saint Nick. Clearly evil," Spike drawled.

"Something about his story just didn't ring true." Gunn shook his head.

"He's right," Connor called from behind the reception desk. "I mean, they want protection? Why not go to the police? Or hire a regular bodyguard?"

"Whatever happened to me having private meetings with clients?" asked Angel.

Connor grinned. "I may have heard a few words through the door."

"So, what's the deal, then?" asked Spike. "What do they need protection from?"

"It could be a trap," Gunn suggested. "Get us out there with no idea what we're supposed to be looking out for. We could be sitting ducks."

"We could definitely use some more information," said Angel. "But Stavros isn't talking, and I have no idea where to start. Suggestions?"

Gunn nodded. "I think I remember us having some Greek-looking books somewhere around here. Could try those."

"It's a start," Angel agreed. "They said whatever it is followed them here from their village."

Gunn frowned. "Not sure I can read the stuff in those books, though. I'm not language guy."

"Connor?" Angel said.

"What?" Connor asked, holding up his hands. "I'm not language guy either."

"You're college guy," Angel replied. "So crack the books, and if you can't translate them, find somebody to help."

"Seem to remember us having somebody who kept us from having to do all the boring bits." Spike frowned, pretending to think. "What was his name again?"

Gunn shook his head. "No."

Spike kept going. "Rupert? No. Andrew? No."

"Wesley," Gunn finished. "No."

"Why not?" Spike asked.

"Because he's currently working full-time for Wanting Us All Dead, Incorporated," Gunn said. "That's why."

"The Senior Partners don't want us dead," Angel said. "They want me dead."

"Oh, yeah, I forgot," Gunn folded his arms. "So you having anything to do with them is a great idea. Especially since it's not like you'd be walking into a trap that's got their new CEO as bait or anything."

"Wesley isn't bait, and he's not an enemy," Angel said. "I don't trust Wolfram & Hart or the Senior Partners anymore than you do. But Wes is Wes, and we need the help."

"I could come along." Connor shrugged when everyone looked at him. "Extra muscle couldn't hurt, right?"

"You stay here," Angel said. "Find the books. Try to translate. Gunn, Spike, you scope out the apartment. See if you notice anything strange. Maybe you could get a glimpse of what this Stavros character's up to. General reconnaissance."

"I know where their apartment building is," Gunn said. "That address is

pretty close to here."

Spike sighed. "Daylight. Sewers, I reckon. Always the sewers."

"Hey, Angel, what'll you be doing?" Gunn asked.

Angel set his jaw, determined. "Paying a visit to our former employers."

"Sure you're ready for that?" Spike asked.

Angel drew an ax out of the weapons cabinet and gave it a practice swing. "Oh, I'm ready."

---

Angel walked into the main reception area of Wolfram & Hart, surprised by how completely unchanged it looked. Their powers of rebuilding were uncanny. He held his ax at the ready and quietly moved toward the elevators.

"Excuse me, sir," said a guard coming toward him, smiling. "Wait right there while I - " With a punch, Angel knocked him out and charged toward the elevators. Belatedly, he realized he had no idea what floor Wesley's office was on, but the most likely place was probably his old floor. He'd try that first.

The elevator doors opened with a ding, and Angel stepped inside, jabbing impatiently at the button. The speakers were playing an instrumental version of "Candle in the Wind" that made Angel tighten his grip on the ax.

"Morning," he nodded to the nervous-looking paralegal who was standing as far away from him as she could.

The moment the doors opened Angel burst out of the elevator, poised and ready for battle. Instead, he found a young man chewing gum and wearing a headset, sitting behind the receptionist's desk.

"Ah, Mr. Angel," the young man said brightly, "it's good to see you. Can I get you anything? Coffee? Tea? Blood?"

---

Angel stared at the young man, taken aback. "Excuse me?"

"What's that?" The young man held up a hand, indicating Angel should wait. He tilted his head as though listening to his headphone. "Yes, sir. Right away, sir." He hit a button on his phone, then gave Angel another smile. "Mr. Wyndam-Pryce will see you now."

Angel held his now-useless battle ax down by his side. He debated sinking it into the desk just on general principle but turned and stalked into Wesley's office instead. "Okay, what in the hell - "

"Just a second," Wesley said. He was standing behind the big CEO desk, wearing a grey-blue button down shirt that wasn't tucked into his black slacks. He held a phone in one hand and was writing something down on a notepad with another. "Yes. Yes. Well, tell them I don't care. If they have a problem with that, then inform them that I am perfectly happy to take our business elsewhere, preferably after setting fire to theirs."

"Demons?" Angel asked when Wesley hung up.

"No, caterers," Wesley replied. "You wouldn't believe the sort of morally ambiguous people with whom one must deal in order to put together something as simple as an office holiday party."

Angel sat down on the arm of one of the chairs facing Wesley's desk. "Actually, I would. Since that used to be my desk and all. Guess you haven't gotten around to that decorating, huh?"

"Surprisingly I've had more important things on my plate," Wesley replied. He indicated the ax in Angel's hand. "As have you, apparently."

"What? Oh, this." Angel put the weapon down on the chair beside him. "Brought it along for protection. Speaking of which, your defenses are - where are your defenses?"

"Against you?" Wesley asked. "We don't have any."

"Don't tell me the Senior Partners suddenly like me again," Angel said.

"No, the CEO is capable of running a cost-benefit analysis." Wesley sat down, pushing paperwork out of his way. "You've broken into this building every single time you've wanted to gain entry. Having safeguards in place for the sole purpose of keeping you out seemed like a colossal waste of time and money. Besides, it's not as though I mind having you here."

"Well, okay," Angel said, "but walking right in does take some of the fun out of it."

A familiar blue face stepped out of the shadows and into Angel's field of vision. "If you wish the enjoyment of battle, I could oblige you."

Angel tried hard not to jump in surprise. "Illyria! So that's where you've been. Wait, you were kidding about the battle, right?"

Illyria's face remained impassive. "I am not unknown for my humor."

"Since when?" Angel asked, before he could stop himself.

"Illyria's been kind enough to keep me company since my transition to full-time employee," Wesley explained.

"We've spent many days overseeing the rebirth of the wolf, the ram, and the hart," Illyria said. "I am attempting to educate him in the proper attitudes of leadership."

"Which are very helpful," Wesley assured her, "if a bit Machiavellian and occasionally stomach-turning."

"In my time worshippers thanked me for removing their kidneys and livers," Illyria said. "It was seen as a gift."

"I'm not sure it counts when their gratitude is due to the fact that you didn't go on to remove the rest of their internal organs," Wesley said. "Though that does remind me to thank you yet again for only giving me a watch this past Christmas."

Angel leaned over Wesley's desk, pitching his voice low. "Do you think it's such a good idea to have the ormer-fay od-gay here at Wolfram & Art-hay?"

Wesley stared at him. "Are you joking?"

"I know she's come far, Wes," Angel said. "But she's still an unknown. Put her in a place of pure evil like this and - "

"No," Wesley said. "I meant out of all the languages you and I both know, you picked pig Latin for your moment of speaking in code?"

Angel gave him a look. "I was going for something she might not know."

"She's neither deaf nor stupid," Wesley reminded him.

"I have likewise not forgotten how to take out livers," Illyria said.

"I'm just trying to look out for everybody," Angel said. "My liver included."

"It might not be wise for her to be here," Wesley said, "but by all means if you would like to convince her to leave go right ahead."

"Your blood would ooze pleasantly over my fingernails," Illyria told Angel.

Angel looked up at her. "So that bonding you and I did over the summer was - what? Just a fling for you?"

"Why are you here?" Wesley asked.

Angel abandoned the stare-off and turned his attention back to Wesley. "We've got a case. I could really use your help with the research."

"Of course," Wesley said. He pushed the button on his intercom. "Kyle?"

"Yes, sir?" the young man's voice said through the speaker.

"Try Greek mythology," Angel suggested. "Books, legends, possibly even - "

"I need the Kokotos file and two cups of tea, with cream," Wesley said, then let go of the button.

Angel blinked. "You have a file on them?"

"Yes," Wesley said. He took the file from Kyle as he came into the room.

"Tea'll be ready in a minute, boss," Kyle said, heading right out again.

Angel watched all of this, not knowing where to look. "Since when does anybody around here do what they're asked the first time around? And you had a file on my clients?"

"If I'm going to be of any use to you," Wesley said, flipping the file folder open, "I thought it best to be pro-active."

"Those who work here are also fond of their viscera," Illyria said, by way of answering Angel's first question.

"Really don't want to know what it'd be like if you had Wes' job," Angel said. He sat up, trying to read the folder from his side of the desk. Wesley immediately obliged him by setting the folder down and turning it so that they could both read. "What've you got?"

"Not much," Wesley admitted, skimming the documents. "At least, not much that you probably don't know already. Husband and wife, recently arrived from Greece, staying here in Los Angeles with their - wait a moment."

"What?" Angel asked, as Wesley turned back a few pages.

Wesley frowned. "The couple - when they came to see you, they had only one son, yes?"

"Yeah," Angel said. "And you really weren't kidding about the pro-active, Wes. They just left the theater, and their visit's already in your files?"

Wesley met Angel's eyes, but instead of answering he produced a photograph out of the folder. It showed Eleni, Stavros, Nikos, and another, slightly older child, with neat lettering labeling him 'Aris.' "Then where's the other one?"

---

"Pick up, damn it. Pick up, pick up." Angel let the phone at the Walden ring a few more times. He fumbled in his pocket for the keys to his car as the phone rang again and again. "I'm gonna kill them. Okay, maybe I won't kill them, but I - hello?"

"Angel Investigations, we help the helpless." Gunn sounded a little distracted as he answered the phone. "How can I help you?"

"Gunn? Why are you back from the Kokotos place already? Why isn't Connor answering the phone? What took you so long to pick up? If you locked Spike in the closet again - "

"Chill, man. The apartment had no action, Connor's sorting through the books in your office, and Spike and I were just playing that new Metal Gear Solid game. The intro's sweet. It's all James Bond, but the old school Bond, not the new Pierce Brosnan pansy-ass - "

"Gunn," Angel cut in. "I need you to get Mrs. Kokotos to the office. Alone. Can you do that?" He could hear Gunn talking to Spike in the background, something about pausing the game.

"Yeah, sure. What's my excuse?" Gunn asked. "Need more info on the demon? Need her to identify it in one of those moldy old books? We can't make her too suspicious."

Angel sighed as he slid into the driver's seat of the Viper. "I don't care. Just get her there, okay? I'll be back in about twenty." Then he remembered what traffic was like on the west side at this time of the afternoon. "Or maybe thirty. And get Connor out of my office. His present's up there!"

---

By the time Angel got back to the Walden, Eleni Kokotos was waiting in the lobby for him, Nikos holding onto her full skirts with one hand as he talked animatedly to Gunn. The woman spotted Angel first, looking hopefully at him with her dark eyes.

"So you're what, almost nine?" Gunn asked the boy. "You ever play PS2?"

Nikos grinned, no longer the subdued child that Angel had seen in their first meeting. "I will be eight in two days. Mama promised me a present for my birthday, but not video games. Mama says that - "

"Well, if your mom doesn't mind, we can hook you up right now," Gunn cut in. "My man Spike might let you have a turn at the controller. You wanna play?" Gunn shot a look at Spike, who rolled his eyes but nodded.

"Just as long as his fingers aren't sticky. Could damage the controllers like that." Spike handed over the controller in his hand to the boy. He knelt down next to Nikos, pointing out the different buttons. "You've got left and right, and these here..."

Angel turned to Connor, who was sitting behind the concession stand, watching everything. "Keep an eye on him, okay? Not that I don't trust Gunn and Spike, but..."

Connor shot him a look. "So what you're saying is that you trust me more than you trust your co-workers." He looked at Gunn, Spike, and the boy, all three now crowded around the television. "Does that mean I get a raise? Because more responsibility and all that."

"Connor." From the look on his son's face, Angel could tell he had achieved the proper "dad" tone. "Just... watch him, okay? Make sure he's all right, that the other two don't bug him too much." He arched his eyebrows, hoping his son got the message. "Let me know how he likes that heavy metal thing."

"Metal Gear Solid. Right." Connor shook his head as he moved to join the other three.

Eleni Kokotos was still watching her son as he sat in front of the television. Angel coughed, trying to get her attention.

"We will talk now, yes? You have... answers? Cannot wait for Stavros to return from job search?" she asked as she followed him upstairs to his office. She sat gingerly in the same client chair as before, smoothing her skirts as she waited for his reply.

"Tell me about your son," Angel said. "He seems like a great kid. Re ally polite. Most kids aren't as well-behaved as that anymore." He settled himself in his chair, rifling through various papers until it looked as though he'd found what he wanted. He pretended to consult the paper before looking up at her again.

"Nikos is good boy. Does not need the video games and the television. Likes books. He is smart boy. Very good boy." She dropped her gaze down to her lap when Angel looked up at her.

"What about Aris? What is he like?"

Eleni's face grew pale. "How do you know of Aris?" Her fingers clenched her skirts so hard that her knuckles turned white.

Angel leaned forward across his desk. "Where is he?" he asked in a quiet voice. He wasn't prepared at all for Eleni Kokotos to burst into tears, covering her face with her hands.

"Mrs. Kokotos - " Angel said gently, in what he hoped was a soothing tone.

It took a great deal to calm her down, including two cups of strong tea and one of the cookies from the 50%-off tin, which had somehow migrated to Angel's office. Angel hoped that Spike and Gunn hadn't gotten so far in their new video game that they would finish it soon. He needed them and Connor to keep the boy distracted for a while longer.

"You okay, Mrs. Kokotos?" Angel asked as she began to get her breathing under control. He offered another tissue.

"I am fine. Better now." Eleni Kokotos wiped her eyes one last time before focusing back on Angel. "You know something about my son. And now you want to know more, yes?"

Angel sat in the chair next to her and nodded. "The more we know about Aris, the better the chance we'll have to save Nikos."

Eleni smoothed her dark hair back under her embroidered scarf, then folded her hands in her lap again. She didn't look up as she started speaking. "My son Aris is also a good boy, smart boy just like Nikos. He loves his brother, and they do not fight all the time. He is nine years old now. Would be nine years old."

"What happened to him?"

The woman's hands clenched in her lap again, shaking slightly as she answered. "Aris stolen. Demons come. Faces of man but lower, they are bears. Fierce claws. They take my Aris away. We hide, but they take Aris." Eleni closed her eyes, her breath catching in her throat. "They take Aris."

"Do you know why they took him? Sacrifice? Their next meal?" When the woman began to shake even more, Angel added quickly, "Not that they always sacrifice people. I mean, sometimes they just can't have kids of their own, and they want a son to raise. Like vampires. Vampires can't have kids of their own and - " At her horrified gasp, Angel trailed off. " - maybe not."

"Our people tell us to leave. Our own families think we are danger to them." Eleni looked up finally, her dark eyes angry. "And Stavros know something. He agree with them, say we must leave because we bring shame to our families. But he not say why, and he let them drive us out. And our Aris! We lose our Aris, and now we lose our Nikos as well."

Angel reached out, covering Eleni's hands with his. "Don't worry. You'll all be okay." He tried to keep his voice low and soothing, anything to keep her from crying again. "We'll post a guard tonight and tomorrow night to make sure you don't lose Nikos. You'll be fine. I promise."

Eleni shook her head. "It is no good. Stavros take Nikos tomorrow."

"Wait, he's taking your son away?" Angel frowned. "Why is he taking Nikos? And where? There are more of us. We can watch your son better than your husband can alone."

"After we leave here before, he not say where he will take our son, but that Nikos will be safe. He say it is to confuse them, make them think Nikos is here when he is not. If he is not here, the monsters cannot take him." Eleni shook her head again. "You will have no one to guard, because Stavros will not say where he take Nikos. But you must protect my son." She squeezed Angel's hands tightly. "Please, protect my son."

"We will, Mrs. Kokotos. I promise." Angel looked down at her helplessly, not sure what else to say.

"But the monsters always come. They always come. They never stop chase us, because they always know." The woman's hands reached up to grab Angel's jacket. "We will never be free of the curse. You must save my son. You must save us before I lose another boy." She choked. "Please save my Nikos."

---

"I'm finding nothing," Gunn said, slamming a book shut and coughing at the resulting cloud of dust.

"Me, too," Spike said. "Think if we add your nothing to mine we'll have something? No? Pity." He frowned. "How come Connor gets to escape at research time? College boy should be bored with the rest of us. Instead, he pulls books out of every crevice in this joint and then leaves them for us."

"Because fetching coffee and doughnuts and blood is beneath our dignity when there's someone paid to do the crap work?" Gunn said.

"I don't have dignity," Spike said firmly. "Not if it's a choice between a breath of fresh air and a lungful of what might be a relative."

"You don't need fresh anything but blood," Gunn pointed out, "and this is just ordinary dust. Vamp dust smells different."

Spike looked intrigued. "Yeah? Can't say I ever noticed myself. Hint of graveyard, is there?"

"More reading, less talking," Angel said tersely, coming over to the table they were sitting at and dumping a fresh armload of books in front of them. He gestured at the discarded volumes. "You done with these, then?"

"Oh, yes," said Spike with a wave of his hand. "Take them away, waiter, and bring me a bottle of your finest - "

"Wes." Angel said.

"Does he go with spotted dick?" Spike asked, affecting an accent more refined than his habitual one.

Angel gave the top of Spike's head an absent-minded smack and moved forward to greet Wesley and Illyria as they came in from the street.

"Are you in need of some help?" Wesley asked, glancing at the cluttered table and then questioningly at Angel. He had a large book tucked under his arm.

"You could say that." Gunn pushed his chair back from the table a little, looking less than friendly. "Not sure we're right at the bottom of the barrel yet, though."

"Your words drip with the bitterness of aloes," Illyria observed, "yet you smiled when you saw us enter."

Gunn snorted. "I was trying not to sneeze," he said. "Dusty in here."

"Oh, leave them be, Charlie," Spike said. He grinned and stood up, offering his chair to Illyria. "Sit down, pet. Really. Be my guest."

Illyria gave him a long look and stepped closer to Wesley.

"We've got some more information," Angel said.

Wesley pulled up a chair and sat down beside Gunn, placing the book he held in front of him. Illyria immediately moved toward Spike's chair just before he sat down again, beating him to it by a fraction of a second.

"If I'd known we were playing Musical Chairs..." Spike said, rolling his eyes and going to lean against the wall.

"You've found out more about the missing boy?" Wesley asked.

"Yeah," Angel said. "Some. But I get the feeling there's a lot we're not being told."

"I know." Spike glanced over at Angel and nodded as Angel lifted his eyebrows. "Easy to see they're scared, but just as easy to see they're hiding something, too."

"So, the other child?" Wesley prompted.

"They were attacked," Angel told him. "On New Year's Eve. Some sort of monsters, and the older child didn't make it. They never saw him again, no body, nothing."

"Description of the monster?" Wesley asked, placing his hand on the book before him.

Angel shrugged. "We aren't having much luck searching using that. But according to Eleni, human top half, bear bottom."

Spike glanced at Gunn, who was grinning, and said, "It's just too easy, isn't it?"

Wesley ignored the comment and said, "Greece has one of Southern Europe's largest populations of brown bears." He looked thoughtful. "Known over here as the grizzly bear... hmm, yes, that rings a bell, actually."

"Wish you'd turned up an hour or two ago, then," Spike said.

Wesley picked up the book and spoke quietly into it. "Hybrid demons: half human, half ursine."

The blank pages filled with text as he laid the open book back down on the table.

"That still freaks me out," Gunn said, watching with a fascinated look. "Like spiders running over the page..."

"It's just a book," Wesley said, already reading. "Ah..."

A silence fell, and Angel found himself leaning forward as if Wesley were talking in a low voice rather than staring in complete absorption at the page.

"Uh, Wes?" he began.

"Yes, yes," Wesley said. "It's just - " He looked up and gave them all a slightly apologetic smile. "It's interesting." He cleared his throat and turned his head to look at Spike and then Angel. "Your suspicions are well-founded - "

"As is ever the case," Illyria said. She smiled grimly. "And best dealt with swiftly."

"Let me guess," Gunn said dryly. "If someone looked shifty, you had their heads chopped off, right?"

"No," Illyria replied. Her smile became reminiscent. "Those heads I removed myself."

"As I was saying," Wesley said, "it seems likely that the son - Aris - far from being a victim of the monster -"

"Was the monster," Gunn and Spike chorused. They exchanged grins.

"You've watched too many movies," Wesley said with a slightly annoyed sniff. "Not quite. Not then, but, yes, he is now. He's become a Tzaros - half man, half demon, who can only roam the world during the time from the full moon before Christmas to the full moon after." He tapped his finger against the page. "Not easy to kill, although there's a close relationship to vampires; kissing cousins, perhaps."

"Now, that's an image I could do without," Gunn muttered, "Although I guess every family has its own version of my Uncle Jimmy..."

"A stake won't do it?" Angel asked.

Wesley shook his head.

"Sword? Ax? Scythe?"

Wesley halted Angel's recitation of the contents of the weapons cupboard by holding up his hand. "An ax will be fine, I'm sure. There are species who view losing a head as a minor inconvenience but - " He broke off. "An ax. Yes."

"Does it say anything else in that book of yours?" Gunn asked, bridging the awkward silence.

"Yes," Wesley said. "The spiders are feeling chatty today."

"Ha ha. Very funny." Gunn said, leaning back in his chair.

"The Tzaros lives in a hell dimension for most of the year, only able to come to our world at this time to search for a mate or a special child to turn," Wesley said, his eyes flickering over the pages. "Children born during the period of the post-Christmas full moon are believed to be predestined to become Tzaroi; they bring bad luck to their families and are hated and feared."

"Not surprising," Spike said thoughtfully.

"The first victims of a Tzaros whose parents were mortal are usually his own family; the Tzaros bites and devours them," Wesley said, his face shadowed a little. "Tears them to shreds in fact."

"We've all been there," Spike said. "All had a go at our nearest and dearest when we've been turned." He reconsidered. "Well, not you, Gunn - "

"Guess again," Gunn said. He gave Spike a hard look. "Though with me, I was the one on the biting end."

"Oh," Spike said. "Your sis, yeah? Sorry, mate." He nodded at Illyria. "Just you then, unless you want to share."

"I had no family," Illyria said coldly. She glanced around the table, her gaze lingering on Wesley. "I still have none. I was mother and father to worlds; myriad lives sprang from my fecund loins."

"You know, there's no one who can bring a conversation crashing to a halt like you," Spike told her.

Gunn shrugged. "So we protect the family for the next couple days, and it's all over. Not a problem."

Angel shook his head. "No. No, it isn't. It's starting all over again."

"Angel," Wesley said quietly, "what is it?"

"The boy - he said his birthday is in two days," Angel explained.

There was a charged silence, broken by Spike. "You mean the full moon after Christmas two days?"

"Yeah. Something tells me Aris wants company in hell. After he's finished eating his parents."

Wesley looked directly at Angel. "You think the father may not have the child's best interests at heart, then?"

Angel shrugged uneasily, disturbed by the memories of his own actions when it came to Connor's "death," however differently motivated they'd been. "Not necessarily. He seemed old fashioned, the superstitious type." He sighed. "He's going to kill him, isn't he? He's going to kill his son to save him from becoming a monster."

Wesley stood up, with Illyria a heartbeat behind him. "You deal with the Tzaros; I'll find the boy and his father."

"Any ideas where Yogi might be?" Spike asked him.

"They're like vampires, remember," Wesley said, "so they need a lair during daylight."

"Their own little honey pot to hide in?" Spike said.

"More like a cave," Wesley said, closing the book and picking it up. "Legend has it that they frequent certain caves with tunnels connecting this world to the hell dimension in which they live. I'm sure L.A. has one; it explains so much. Oh, and they run in packs. I'd be very surprised if Aris is alone."

He gave them a nod of farewell, echoed by Illyria in an uncannily exact imitation, and met Angel's stare for a moment before turning away, a hint of regret passing over his face.

When the door had closed behind them, Angel turned to Spike and Gunn. "Get out there and see if anyone's talking about these demons. Find out where they're holed up; try anyone who knows about special caves, maybe with a reputation for being haunted."

Connor came in, juggling coffee, pastries, and a discreet brown-paper bag.

"And take Connor with you," Angel said. He smiled at Connor. "Want to borrow my good ax later on?"

Connor shrugged without looking too impressed by the honor. "Sure. What're we hunting?"

"Heffalumps," Spike said and started to whistle a tune while reaching for a doughnut.

"A child who's been turned into a vampire," Angel said, staring at Connor with a distant, worried look on his face. "And we have to stop it from happening again."

---

"So, where are we going?" Connor asked brightly, looking from Gunn to Spike as he jumped off of the end of the ladder leading down into the sewer tunnel below the Walden.

"Buggered if I know," Spike said. "Some cave somewhere with a demon or hundred. Nice and vague."

Gunn set off down the tunnel. "I've got an idea," he called back over his shoulder. "We can try the Star Man."

Spike and Connor caught up with him. "And they call him that because he can tell you how many rings there are around Uranus, do they?" Spike asked.

"Or one of those astrology nuts?" Connor added.

Gunn gave them both a scornful look. "This is L.A.," he told them. "There's only one kind of star here."

---

"Him?" Spike said in disbelief as they emerged from a sewer exit into a courtyard, deeply shadowed in the gathering dusk. He stared at the small, rotund demon who had cornered a hapless pair of tourists, judging by the cameras around their necks, and was waving something in their faces while he gabbled away at high-speed.

"T he one and only," Gunn confirmed. "Yo! Star Man! Ziggy!"

The demon's head swiveled in a neck-cracking one hundred eighty degree turn, and the couple exchanged uneasy looks and backed away quickly. Rolling his eyes as they scurried off, he sauntered over to Gunn.

"You owe me," he said. "Prime, they were, good for the Gold Map, if I'm not mistaken."

"You sell maps to treasure?" Connor asked, looking with interest at the accordion-folded piece of paper Ziggy was holding. "I thought - "

Thick bushy eyebrows snapped together, and then the demon began to hoot with laughter. "Treasure! Yes!"

"They're maps to the houses of the rich and famous," Gunn said. "Ten years out of date, and who cares anyway?"

"You're just envious," the demon said, tapping Gunn's arm with a four-fingered hand that looked way cuter on a cartoon figure than it did in real life. He moved to Connor and unfolded the map with a practiced flick of his wrist. "Now you're the sort of lad who'd be interested, I'm sure. Twenty dollars to find out where they all hang their hats. And the pickings from Julia Roberts' garbage would fetch ten times that much on eBay." He stepped back, flinging his arms wide. "You were right! It is a treasure map!" He lowered his voice. "Just don't wash anything, you know what I mean? Lowers the price..."

Connor shook his head in disgust.

"You're a Pinari demon," Spike said flatly. He smiled, not very nicely. "Which means even if the lad here doesn't shell out a twenty - and he might look daft, but he's not that stupid - you've already got, let's see.... his watch, his wallet, and hopefully not his belt, 'cause he's so skinny his jeans'll be around his ankles when he moves."

Gunn sighed. "Tell me you weren't feeling suicidal enough to steal from a friend of mine, Ziggy?"

"And I'll bet a tenner he's got your watch too," Spike added.

"Not wearing one," Gunn said smugly. His hand moved to his jacket pocket, and his face darkened. "Not got my cell anymore either."

Ziggy got two steps away before three pairs of hands grabbed him.

"Upsadaisy," Spike said cheerfully. "Gonna shake you like a plum tree and hope nothing goes squish when it hits the ground. Like your head, if you're heavier than I expected."

"No, you're not," Gunn said.

Ziggy gave him a teary smile of gratitude. "Knew you'd stand by me, Gunn."

"I'll stand by and watch as he beats the crap out of you," Gunn said. "But no one's shaking my cell loose."

"Right," Spike said. "Mindless violence it is."

Ziggy yelped and began to empty his pockets, pressing an assortment of wallets, watches, and junk into their hands.

"So this is the real scam?" Connor asked, buckling his watch around his wrist again. "The pick-pocketing, not the maps?"

"Got that right," Gunn confirmed, slipping his phone back into his pocket. He gathered up what they'd been given and put it on top of a crate by the wall. "Look, you can have it all back when we're gone; we just need to ask you some questions."

"Such as? And do I get paid?" Ziggy said, blinking hopefully.

"Is this the bit where I say, 'You get to live'?" Connor asked. "Because I always wanted to do that."

"Be my guest," Spike said with a magnanimous wave of his hand. "Gives me time to think about which end of him I'm going to set on fire first."

"Ask your questions." Ziggy sounded more resigned than terrified, although he did edge away from Spike as he said it.

"We're looking for a demon who's going to be spending his days in a cave," Gunn said. "New in town. Half human, half bear. Might be more than one."

Ziggy nodded. "Now that I can help you with."

Gunn stared at him. "And now I'm thinking that was suspiciously easy."

"Look, do you know how much it's costing me to have you three this close? How many customers you've driven away?" Ziggy snapped. "Besides, I've got my own reasons for wanting someone to kick that guy's furry ass."

"And what would they be?" Spike asked, sounding skeptical.

"I've got this friend, see?" Ziggy preened himself. "Lady friend. Very classy. And she's got this cousin who - "

"I'm getting bored," Spike said, taking out his lighter and flicking it.

"Did anyone ever tell you youngsters life's to be appreciated?" Ziggy said testily, coming over to poke Spike in the chest, although he seemed to think better of it before he actually made contact. "Savored, not gulped? Her cousin lives in a cave in the Belton Park area. Or he did before he found himself tossed out and lucky to escape with minor bruises, two broken arms and half the skin torn off his back."

"Real lucky," Gunn said. "Think he'd pick me out some lottery numbers?"

"Belton Park is about twenty minutes away," Connor put in. "We should go."

"Yeah," Spike said, glaring at Ziggy. "Just as soon as I get my lighter back."

---

Angel rubbed his hand across his forehead. "You're sure this demon can be trusted?"

"No," said Spike just as Gunn said "Yes." They exchanged looks and Spike said, "Not in general, but, yeah, I think he was too scared to lie."

"Doesn't always work that way," Angel told him. He glanced over at Connor, who was running his finger cautiously along the blade of Angel's ax. "Look, you don't have much time. Moonrise is in, what, forty minutes?"

Spike nodded. "'bout that, yeah. Least the sun's set. Had enough of sewers for one day. We get to take your car, right?"

"We do?" Connor said, looking up. "Can I drive?"

"No!" Angel said. "Do you even know how to - Never mind." He looked at Spike, smiled as Spike looked hopeful, and then tossed the keys to Gunn, who snagged them from the air smoothly.

"Bastard," Spike muttered, stalking off.

"Drive carefully," Angel said.

Gunn rolled his eyes. "We're in a hurry, remember?"

"Doesn't mean you have to run lights, break speed limits - "

"We do that all the time," Gunn said. "Even when we're not in a life-and-death situation. It's called driving in the city." He shook his head. "God, and to think when I was a teenager I wished my dad was still around."

"Just do the job," Angel said with a sigh.

"Kill the demon?" Gunn asked, "because you didn't really seem clear about that."

Angel watched Connor as he crossed the lobby. "Do what you have to," he said. "But - it's only a kid, right? Maybe you can capture it; maybe there's something we can do to bring it back..."

Gunn frowned. "Did Wes find a cure or something?"

"Get a move on!" Spike called from the door to the garage where he and Connor were waiting.

"No," Angel said to Gunn. "No cure. Not yet."

"But maybe?" Gunn asked.

Spike began to sing "Bad Moon Rising" off-key, and Gunn shrugged and patted Angel's arm. "Catch you later. We'll call when it's on the move."

"It'll go after its family," Angel said. "To the apartment building." He nodded slowly. "And I'll be waiting."

---

"Never was one for the countryside," Spike said moodily, kicking a clump of grass. "Too... green."

"This isn't real countryside," Connor objected. "When I was younger, my dad used to take us camping, and we'd hike right into the middle of the woods, forty miles away from a road, no TV for a week, sleeping in tents, carrying a canoe, only eating what we caught..."

"And they say kids used to be badly treated in Victorian days," Spike muttered.

"I liked it," Connor said simply.

"Only because you didn't have to do it," Spike said. "If it was the way you lived all day, every day, I wager you'd have got sick of it."

Connor stared into the darker shadow of the cave mouth. "Maybe," he said. "Are we sure this is it?"

Gunn rejoined them. "All the other caves around are empty, and there's no sign of a tunnel in them or that they've ever been occupied."

"And this one..." Spike sniffed the air. "Yeah. Blood. Faint, but it's there."

"Then we wait," Gunn said, leaning back against a tree. "And then we'll..." His voice trailed off.

"Yeah," Spike said. "I don't know what we do either. Why can't we just kill it here? Why let it get to Angel and that family?"

"Might be more than one," Gunn reminded him. "Could be we'll have our hands full."

"Yeah, but I'm guessing it wasn't this Aris who ripped up Ziggy's girlfriend's cousin's maiden bloody aunt or whoever it was; lad's only nine, right? You get turned as a kid, you stay a kid. He can't be that big."

Connor opened his mouth and then closed it again.

"What?" Spike said.

"It's not actually a vampire, even if it's kind of like one," Connor said, raising his ax. He nodded at the cave. "And a few weeks in a hell dimension can age you - "

The creature that came out of the cave just as Connor's watch beeped to tell them it was moonrise proved his point. The face bore a distinct resemblance to the picture of Aris that Wesley had shown them, but the creature appeared to be about thirty. His arms were muscled and hairy, large hands made larger by the sharp talons on each finger, talons matching the ones on his paws. The merging of human and animal didn't look remotely cute in the flesh, and the thick hair over the upper body made it seem less of a joining of two species than a new, terrifying breed.

It scented the air and growled, moving toward them. Connor charged toward it, ax raised, howling to match the infuriated bellow of the creature.

Spike groaned. "God, he's eager! Get after him, or we'll be advertising for staff again!"

Even a s he spoke he was moving, game face on, but the sight of three of them seemed to make Aris pause. With one final, snarled growl, he slashed at the air, coming close enough to Connor's face to make Gunn jerk forward to grab him, and then vanished into the thick bushes around the mouth of the cave.

Gunn pulled out his phone. "Angel?" he said. "It's on the move and don't go expecting a kid. He's big. Taller than me and he's - "

"Loaded for bear," Spike said softly.

---

The neighborhood, Angel reflected, really did leave a lot to be desired. It was one thing to have an office in a place you wouldn't want to live and another to have to live there. The apartment building was made out of brick and looked like it had been there since the turn of the century, which, come to think of it, made it younger than he was. Regardless, it still looked shabby to his eyes.

From the shadowed bus-stop bench where he was sitting, Angel could see down the street in either direction, as well as the building itself. He couldn't see the other side of the building, but he'd decided after scoping it out that the back of the building would be a lot harder to get into, so he figured he was in the best possible spot.

His second-favorite ax was beside him on the bench, and he was actually kind of looking forward to the chance to use it. There was something about hacking something into bits that was more satisfying than using a simple stake.

From what Gunn had said about the cave's location, Angel wasn't expecting Aris yet, but it was best to be prepared. Angel glanced up the street and saw nothing suspicious. He looked in the other direction. Nothing.

In the time it took for him to look right, the Tzaros appeared on the left. Angel spotted Aris immediately; it didn't seem like he was making a real effort to hide himself, and he was big enough that he wouldn't have been able to do so very effectively anyway, not with his size and all of that fur.

The Tzaros looked around, seeming to sniff the air, then headed for the building on Angel's side of the street, the one opposite the Kokotos' apartment building. Angel grabbed his ax and set forth quietly, tailing after Aris but keeping back far enough that he didn't think he'd be seen.

---

"Come on," Stavros' voice carried down the staircase where Wesley and Illyria were waiting inside the Kokotos' apartment building. "Don't you want your surprise?"

The little boy's voice answered, sounding excited. "Where is it?"

Wesley gestured at Illyria to be silent as they made their way up the stairs, listening to the light, quick footsteps of Nikos and the slower ones of his father.

"Your present is up on building roof," Stavros said, his voice echoing a bit in the stairwell.

"Is it a game?" the boy asked.

Stavros cleared his throat. "Not a game. I told you it is secret. Very special birthday surprise just for boys your age."

As he and Illyria took a few more nearly silent steps upward, Wesley heard what could only be the door to the roof opening.

---

Atop the building opposite the Kokotos' apartment building, Angel kept to the shadows, watching as Aris stopped and peered intently at his family's building across the street.

Angel moved closer, his attention focused on the Tzaros, then froze as the hybrid sniffed the air again, turning his head and then his body until he was looking right at Angel.

Aris growled, and Angel stepped forward out of the shadows, tightening his grip on his ax.

The Tzaros moved toward him more quickly than Angel had anticipated; he'd made the mistake of thinking that the lower bear half would slow Aris down. Instead, Aris was practically on top of him before Angel could even blink.

He dodged backward at the last second, feeling one of Aris' long, vicious claws snag the edge of his shirt and cut it open like a razor. "Hey! I don't have an expense account anymore, you know," Angel muttered.

He didn't have time to circle around and figure out what the Tzaros was going to do next, because Aris was already on him again. This time his claws were slicing through Angel's jacket and shirt sleeve, not to mention skin. Angel cursed and threw himself to the left, away from Aris, rolling, his injured arm protesting the contact with the rough, pebble-like surface of the roof while his other hand held onto the handle of his ax.

Now that he knew what he was dealing with, Angel didn't hesitate to jump into the fight with everything he had. He rolled to his feet, moving toward the demon with his weapon at the ready.

Aris stepped out of the way of Angel's first swing with the ax, spinning around and hitting Angel hard in the jaw with an elbow, in so close that there was no way Angel could use his weapon.

Angel let the blow snap his head to the side and brought his own elbow up, slamming it into Aris' throat.

The Tzaros backed up, making an angry, gagging sound; he might share a lot in common with vampires, but that didn't make getting hit in the throat any more fun. Before the demon could recover, Angel lunged forward, swinging the ax hard, but Aris blocked the blow by slamming his forearm up against the ax handle. He was vampire-fast, preternaturally strong, and the impact of the block made Angel's teeth rattle in his head and his hand tingle with numbness.

Angel slipped into game face without a thought, whirling in the other direction and missing Aris by only an inch or two at most, the hybrid dodging the ax and swinging a clawed hand at Angel that caught him across the chest. Angel hardly felt the pain; it was too distant at that moment to register, even though he could feel his shirt clinging to him where it grew wet with his blood.

Aris turned, knocking Angel down with the momentum of his body, and both of them crashed to the roof's surface with Angel on the bottom, absorbing most of the impact of the fall. The ax was between them, digging into Angel's ribs as Aris tried to get at his throat, the weight of him both surprising and a little bit disturbing. Angel got his other hand onto the handle of the ax and pushed upward with all his strength, the muscles in his arms straining.

Hoping the anatomy wasn't too different, Angel brought his knee up hard between the Tzaros' legs, and Aris grunted and curled up, rolling off Angel, who got up onto his feet and brought the ax down in a deadly arc. Aris spun away at the last moment, and Angel jerked the ax blade free of the roof and followed, swinging again. This time, he managed to hit Aris, a gout of blood soaking the demon's naked torso.

Angel lifted the ax again and swung it with all his might, cleaving the Tzaros in two along the line where human body met bear body. As the two halves of the demon hit the roof they blackened and thinned, like a newspaper burned by a fire, yet left whole. The edges of the burnt sheets twitched in the wind and then shattered into thousands of dark stars, blowing into the night.

Just then, Angel heard a sound he really didn't like. He turned to see another Tzaros standing up, just having climbed up the side of the building, probably via the fire escape. It was quickly followed by a second and third creature, all three of them advancing toward him.

"Great," Angel muttered, raising his ax again.

---

In the building across the street, Stavros and Nikos had stepped out onto the roof. Wesley and Illyria followed almost silently as Stavros lured Nikos over to the edge of the roof with continued promises of a birthday surprise that Wesley was certain without intervention would result in the boy's sudden death as his father pushed him over the edge.

Before anything could happen, though, the sound of the struggle on the roof across the street reached them. Even from w here Wesley and Illyria stood, they could see the fight, and Nikos spotted it too. The child immediately became upset as he realized what was happening, shouting and squirming in his father's grasp.

Wesley took advantage of Stavros' brief distraction and moved forward swiftly, hitting the man over the head with the handle of his ax and knocking him unconscious. He didn't have time to say anything reassuring to the startled boy, unfortunately, as at the same time another Tzaros appeared as if from nowhere not five feet from where they stood.

"Run!" Wesley shouted, pushing Nikos aside and hoping that he would follow the order. He gestured at the ax Illyria was holding. "Be sure to use that," he reminded her, and then the Tzaros was upon them, snarling.

The creature was surprisingly quick considering its size, Wesley thought. Not having enough time or space to get in a real swing, he hit it in the face with the handle of his ax. Its nose made a sickening crunch, and it paused long enough for Illyria to kick it in the side, causing it to stagger away from them.

Wesley glanced across the street to where Angel was significantly outnumbered. He could hear the boy weeping quietly but couldn't see him, so at least he'd had the sense to hide himself.

"Get over there!" Wesley shouted to Illyria as the Tzaros came at them from his side. He hit it in the shoulder, and it staggered back again.

"I fight with you!" Illyria said, frowning and kicking the Tzaros in the thigh.

"Angel's outnumbered!" Wesley told her, ducking another blow by the Tzaros. "He needs you more than I do. Go!"

Illyria gave him a look that he now recognized as the closest thing to concern she was capable of expressing, but after another solid punch to the Tzaros' face, she obeyed. Wesley didn't watch her go; he was too busy holding his own with the creature that was, thankfully, a bit slower now that it had been injured.

The Tzaros circ led, seeming to consider its options, then moved toward Wesley. He ducked out of the way, and the creature slammed into the vent behind the spot Wesley had just vacated, apparently a poor judge of its own momentum. Quickly, Wesley spun, aiming the ax blade for the Tzaros' throat. The demon moved at the last possible second, and the ax bit into the metal of the vent instead of its flesh, the blade lodging itself firmly.

Wesley threw himself to the rooftop to avoid the Tzaros' claws when it took advantage of the fact that he had lost his weapon. He scrambled away awkwardly, wanting only to get enough distance between himself and the creature, but as soon as he had he reached into his jacket pocket and brought out a pistol, aiming it at the Tzaros and firing off a rapid series of shots.

As each bullet hit its target, the Tzaros jerked visibly. It didn't, unfortunately, look as if it had any intention of going down, but that was all right. All Wesley really needed was to incapacitate it somewhat, wound it to the point where he wasn't at quite such a disadvantage.

The Tzaros, however, didn't seem particularly bothered by the fact that it had been shot a number of times, and, imitating the moderately famous battery-powered rabbit, just kept going. Wesley looked at the gun in his hand - now empty of bullets - and tossed it directly at the creature's head. The weapon bounced off the Tzaros' skull and skittered away across the rooftop.

It was rather unusual, Wesley thought as he turned and ran, circling the vent in an attempt to get back to the ax from the other side, to be fighting a creature that so closely resembled both man and bear. He felt as if he'd been transported into some sort of children's cartoon, a thought that was particularly disturbing considering their recent foray into the Bogart films.

The Tzaros was waiting for him on the other side of the vent; Wesley ducked a blow, feeling the creature's hand swipe just over the top of his head, too close for comfort. He spun around, managed to give it a glancing blow to the face that couldn't have done more than distract it, and bent to avoid the Tzaros' next attack, twisting and stooping under its arm in a desperate attempt to reach his ax. He curled his grip around the handle and jerked with all his strength, then felt a slicing pain along the back of his right shoulder as the Tzaros clawed him.

Wesley turned and kicked the Tzaros in the knee, giving himself just enough time to free the ax. He whirled and, astonishingly, managed to decapitate the demon with one blow, head and body thinning into blackened ash before the wind scattered the remains.

Panting, Wesley turned and listened for the boy. After a moment, he heard muffled sobs and followed them to where Nikos crouched in the shadows.

"It's all right," Wesley said softly, glancing over at the child's still-unconscious father, who lay unmoving where he'd fallen. He reached for Nikos' hand, small and cold. "Come with me. Let's go find your mother."

Nikos sniffled and wiped his eyes and nose with his other hand. "Where's Babbas?"

"He's... sleeping," Wesley improvised. "But he'll be fine. I promise. Come on." The sounds of battle on the rooftop across the street were simpler now, and from where he stood, Wesley watched as Angel killed the last of the Tzaroi, Illyria standing very still not far off.

Angel turned, looking at Wesley. The street was between them, but Wesley could see Angel take in the fact that Stavros was down, no longer a threat to the boy. He would have had to be blind to miss the way Angel's shoulders relaxed. Angel said something to Illyria, something that Wesley couldn't quite make out, and she nodded and turned away from the scene.

Wesley's eyes met Angel's across the distance and held for what was probably only a few heartbeats, then Wesley nodded and turned, leading the child back toward the stairs.

---

"So exactly how many people did you think you were cooking for?" Spike asked, eyeing the generous spread of food that Angel had set out.

Angel paused in the act of setting the turkey in the middle of the table. "Too much?"

"Not at all," Gunn replied, "if you were planning to feed the entire crew of the HMS Pinafore."

Stepping back and looking at all the food on the table - a traditional turkey dinner with all the fixings and then some - Angel conceded he may have gone a little overboard. "I just wanted to make sure we didn't run out."

Gunn snorted. "Oh, no chance of that. We'll still be eating turkey leftovers in March."

"I like turkey leftovers," Connor put in from his chair.

Angel brightened. "You're welcome to take all you want. I've got some of that Tupperware stuff you could use - and I probably should wait until we have leftovers first, huh?"

"Might be an idea, yeah," Connor said, smiling at him. "So would be sitting down."

"What?" Angel blinked. "Right." He took his seat, and they started passing the food around. Finding preferred dishes and portioning them out, everyone started eating.

Or almost everyone; Illyria seemed more intent on arranging her food into some kind of elaborate sculpture that was slowly going vertical.

"Something wrong with your food, Blue?" Spike asked, gesturing at her plate with a fork laden with candied sweet potato. "Or are you just trying to rebuild your kingdom out of mashed potatoes like that bloke in that movie?"

Illyria regarded him coolly. "In my day, tables would groan with the weight of our feasts. There were countless courses, all prepared to my exact taste by my servants. The main course was always alive so that I might be entertained by its screams as I ate. This... meal... does not compare. There is no music in the rending of this charred flesh or the cracking of its...." She fell suddenly silent, her gaze on the door. "Wesley."

Angel turned to see Wesley standing just inside the door. "Hey," Angel said, rising and heading over to him.

"I don't mean to interrupt anything," Wesley said, glancing apologetically at the dinner table at which they were all seated.

"You're not," Angel said quickly. "I mean, yeah, you are, obviously, but it's okay. Really."

Wesley looked at him for a beat before speaking again. "I just came by to let you know that we were able to put safeguards in place around Nikos. The Tzaroi won't be making any further visits to this particular family, at least. Moreover, Mr. Kokotos starts his new job with one of the surprisingly non-evil clients of Wolfram & Hart on Monday. He seems genuinely relieved that the situation has been resolved without him having to kill his son, but I will be able to keep an eye on the situation just to be certain."

"That's good," Angel said. "That you're able to make sure Nikos is going to be okay, with his father and all."

"I just thought you'd want to know." Wesley's voice was quiet, but the look in his eyes made it perfectly clear to Angel that he knew what making sure a child was safe with his father meant.

"Thanks," Angel said softly.

Wesley nodded and turned to go, and Angel found himself asking, "You doing anything tonight?"

Pausing on the threshold, Wesley turned back around. "Nothing terribly urgent."

Angel gestured back at the table where everyone was sitting. "We're having a belated holiday dinner and... well, you're welcome to stay. If you want."

Wesley looked uncertain. "I don't know if that would be - "

"There's plenty of food," Angel said quickly, overriding Wesley's objections. "Too much, really. One more mouth will just help cut down on the leftovers. And after we eat there's going to be presents and..." He slowed down and just asked simply, "Stay?"

Wesley didn't answer for a very long moment, and from his expression Angel was so certain he was going to refuse that Wesley's quiet, "All right," took him by surprise.

"Great," Angel said with a grin and maybe a bit too much enthusiasm. He turned to the others and said, "Spike, grab another chair. Wes is joining us."

He looked back to Wesley, who returned his smile as they headed over to sit down with the others.

If Wesley's smile didn't quite reach his eyes, it was real enough for Angel to let himself take it at face value.