Colin regarded the other people in the room warily. He didn’t trust Wolfram and Hart as far as he could throw them. Personally he’d never dealt with the firm, but he’d heard stories from other people in his office. They had a reputation of handling bizarre cases and clients.
So far, everyone he’d met was pretty decent, but the blonde British man in the room now was anything but. Something about him made Colin tense up. The man was talking to April in the corner. They were whispering, so Colin couldn’t hear what they were saying.
Pretty soon they seemed to be arguing. Their voices rose. April wanted to go back home, but the man, Spike didn’t want to let her. Then he said something in a low voice that Colin didn’t catch and April slapped him smartly across the face. Pushing past him, she stormed out of the room.
Spike turned to look at Colin, who was sort of staring. He finished his cigarette without taking his eyes off of Colin, then he dropped it on the wood floor of the conference room and ground it in with his foot. Without a word, he too left the room.
April felt the angry tears welling up in her eyes as soon as she left the room. She didn’t like LA. The dreams she kept having weren’t exactly her idea of a good time. Spike didn’t want to listen. He thought he knew what was best for April.
With her last bit of resolve, April made for the bank of elevators in the lobby. If Spike wouldn’t escort her home she would find her own way there. Ten feet from the elevator door she bumped into someone. It was Angel, and he seemed a bit confused to find her in the lobby.
“Did you need something?” he asked. She shook her head, trying to hide the tears that were now running down her face. She looked away from Angel, at the floor. He reached down and caught her chin in the palm of him hand and made her look at him.
“What is it?” he asked. His voice was now concerned, where earlier it had sounded almost bored.
April stared at him through her watery eyes, “I just… I want to go home.”
Angel smiled a little, “I know,” he said, “Wesley has almost figured out what we’re dealing with, and as soon as we take care of it, he’ll evaluate you and you can go home. Are you going to be okay until then?”
April swallowed, trying to regain her composure. “Yes,” she replied softly, “Could I get something to eat? I haven’t had anything since we left home.”
Angel brightened, like he was glad to have a task to delegate. Looking around the lobby, he spotted Fred coming out of an office. He called her name and waved to her.
When she came over he said, “Fred will you take April to get something to eat. Maybe a sandwich from down the street or something?” Fred agreed with a smile and took April by the arm. She led her to the elevators and out of the building.
The two woman made their way to the street where Fred turned left. It was late and pitch black outside, except for the glow from the street lamps, but Fred didn’t seem the least bit worried. Maybe it was because she was with a slayer, or maybe Fred knew something that April didn’t. She was banking on the latter rather than the former.
“We can get sandwiches or Chinese, or we could pick up a pizza or something,” Fred suggested, casting April a sideways glance.
“Anything,” April replied. Her stomach was growling so loudly she was sure Fred could hear it. The other woman didn’t say much else, just smiled and continued on their way.
Spike sat on the corner of Wesley’s desk, looking down at the man studying a think book intensely. The entire desk was covered with similar tomes each opened to a specific page. Wes didn’t pay much attention to Spike. He’d learned a long time ago that it was infinitely better to ignore him.
“So,” demanded Spike finally, “what do you think of her?”
“Of who?”
“The slayer you bloody idiot!” cried Spike. “That’s what I’m hear for isn’t it? Working for Wolfram and Hart has made you a little daft old man.”
Wesley peered up at the vampire over his glasses. He tried to probe the real reason behind Spike’s question. There was concern in his voice, worry, and even a little fear. Lowering his eyes to the book again, Wes delayed the answer while he considered the repercussions.
“She’s clever,” he said at last. “She has a sharp mind and I assume she has the slayer strength. All that’s left to discover is her heart. That is the true testament of a slayer isn’t it? Her passion and drive is what makes her.” His thoughts turned to Faith, his own failure. It still haunted him, a little. They could only pray that April possessed a little more compassion than Faith had.
“What if she hasn’t got it,” asked Spike, as if reading Wesley’s thoughts. “Are you going to lock her up in prison too?” The last statement was meant to sting, to wound, but Wesley brushed it off. If he let every little thing that Spike said get under his skin he wouldn’t have made it so far.
As April sat at the table in the restaurant, staring into her bowl of chicken broth, she considered her current position. Things were not ideal, in fact they were barely tolerable. Her head began to pound in her skull and her vision blurred just the slightest bit. The soup tasted like ash in her mouth and she no longer had an appetite.
The restaurant became very quiet. April looked at Fred, whose lips were moving, but no sound escaped them. The color in the room seemed to drain away and everything showed in shades of gray. Everything except the man in the corner. He was staring at her with piercing eyes that were almost black. His lips pulled back into a sinister smirk and he placed a finger to his lips, indicating that April be quiet.
Then sound and color resumed their normal function and Fred chatted about how lovely Los Angeles was in the fall. April looked to where the man had sat, but the booth was empty. She began to get very anxious, the nervous fluttering in her stomach growing worse with each breath she took.
“I have to get back,” she said, interrupting Fred mid-sentence. “I have to get back to Wesley. I think another kid is about to die.”
Wesley and Angel had gathered everyone, including Spike and the ADA in the conference room to explain the situation. Fred and April were still MIA, but their presence wasn’t crucial at the moment. For now Wesley wanted to get everyone on alert so they could begin searching for the perpetrator.
Just as he cleared his throat to speak, the door opened and April rushed in. Her face was flushed and she seemed terribly excited. Fred followed close behind her, looking altogether confused and disorientated.
“I know where he is!” cried April. “Come on! We have to go right now! Come on!”
Wesley stared at her without moving. Everyone’s mouths dropped open, with the exception of the ADA who remained terribly cold and apathetic. April moved to the long oak table around which everyone was gathered. Slamming her hands flat on top of it she shot daggers with her eyes at Wesley, then Angel, and finally at Spike.
“If we don’t hurry he’s going to kill another child.”
Wesley finally spoke, “How do you—“
“I’m the god damn slayer okay!” April exclaimed. “I saw him just now, in the restaurant.” She moved to the spot where Wesley was sitting. Kneeling beside him, she pleaded, “Please, I know what I’m doing. We have to move now.”
There were too many people in the little convertible. It was cramped and terribly uncomfortable. With Angel driving, and Wesley in the passenger seat that left space for three people in the back. April, Fred, and Spike filled the spaces. Charles Gunn conceded to ride with Reid, who insisted on coming along.
Following April’s precise instructions the gang came upon an abandoned warehouse. As they parked in front of it, the knot in April’s stomach twisted. It tore at her, making her long to leap from the car and run to the warehouse.
“This is it,” she whispered. Everyone stared at her. “He’s here, and he isn’t alone.”
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