Part Three
After six days in Sunnydale, Lucifer's patience began to wear thin. Sitting in the flea-bitten apartment he had rented in Sunnydale, Lucifer watched the minutes of night tick painfully by. "I should sleep," he thought to himself. Gathering strength for the following night would not come without sleep. For that night, of course, was the night Angel would finally meet the doom that had followed him and haunted him for so long.
Lucifer turned and opened the door of the tiny apartment, and, grabbing his heavy coat with one hand, slipped it on and slid out thedoor, closing it tightly behind him. The apartment was old and gray, set in teh worst side of Sunnydale. Lucifer could have easily afforded the cleaner ones on the opposite end of town, but he needd to stay as far away as possible from his solitary brother. After exiting the building, he zipped up the jacket and walked down the street a few blocks or so.
Then he came to where he wanted to be. A thin smile gripped his refined features, and he opened the door of the tiny building. It was a bar, and yet, with no one ever in the place, it was a wonder to any outsider how it even continued to operate at all. Behind the table was a younger man wiping down teh bar tables. He had one black eye, and short, dark hair with a rat-like nose and kind eyes.
"What can I do for you today?" he asked Lucifer timidly, sensing his overwhelming power immediately.
"Willie," Lucifer began, "That is your name isn't it? Willie?"
"Yeah, that's me," he replied anxiously.
"I need your help with something," Lucifer said slyly, approaching the bar table swiftly.
"Sure. What is it?" he asked impatiently.
Lucifer reached a strong hand over the bar table and grabbed a frightened Willie by the shirt collar. He lifted him up a foot and a half above the ground.
"I need you to tell me about...the slayer," Lucifer said, grinning evilly in the dim light.
"Buffy?" he asked.
"Are there any other slayers running around that I should know about?" Lucifer asked mockingly.
"Well, I thought you might mean Faith, anyway, she's dead. But Buffy's the slayer now. She's a great kid."
"Tell me about her and Angel," Lucifer said restlessly.
"Angel? What woudl you need to know about Angel? He's a vampire, with a soul, and, uh...he's...uh...old, I'd say, maybe 250 or so. Don't know exactly."
Lucifer loosened his grip and slowly lowered the frightened barkeeper to the floor. "But all that I knew. I need to know...hmm...can you tell me where this Buffy girl lives?"
Willie trembled. "Well, actually...I'm not supposed to say. Ya see--" A jolting punch sped across his mouth before he could finish the sentence. Blood poured from his jaw, spilling onto his crisp white shirt and the counter as well. He seemed to reconsider his answer for a moment, and then, his words run together as he tried to make intelligent speech through a pounding headache and a broken jaw, he said, "Yeah, I'll tell you where she lives."
So Lucifer stayed at Willie's bar and listened to the stupid barkeeper ramble on about Buffy Summers. And it was then that Lucifer got his idea. His brilliant plan. He realized now in total clarity that Buffy Summers was the key to Angelus's undoing. And so as the plan took shape and form in his mind, Lucifer listened to good old reliable Willie the Snitch.
To Be Continued...?
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