This is for Rob who, when told there were dinosaurs in this, said, "What, does Angel give Spikeasaurass?"

Thanks to Vixen for the beta. Youse is a doll.
 
 
 

"Do you know what the expression means, 'to pay the piper?'" asks Her Bossiness looking at me across the desk.

"'Course I do, " I say.

"What does it mean then?"

"Well, it means that when you die one of your relatives has to pay the piper to play at your funeral."

She looks at me steadily. In her hand she is holding a piece of paper. She's been opening the mail.

"I hate to tell you Mr. Jones, but it also means that when you use a credit card to buy something, you have to pay the bill." She raises both eyebrows at me and taps the pencil eraser on the side of the monitor.

I'd give a Torloth demon's right horn to know what she's on about, but I'm not giving her the satisfaction of getting one up on me.

I say, "Well, then pay it."

"I beg your pardon, but this is your bill. It's addressed to Angel Jones and I happen to know that the only person authorized to use that card is you. I also remember that I was present in the cosmetics department when these purchases listed here were made. As the Manager of this office, I am responsible for seeing that bills get paid. Therefore I am giving this one to you and you will pay it. That's all I have to say." She puts the paper out by the edge of the desk then leans back in her chair, picks up another envelope and slits it viciously down the fold.

I snatch the paper up. It says it's from VISA for Angel Jones. After a bunch of names of stuff it says the total due is $367.26. Then it says at least $10.00 must be paid this month. "Here, "I say. '' It says to pay ten dollars." I reach in my pocket and pull out a wad of ones. I count out ten to her on the desk. That means I have six left.

She doesn't look up. "No, you have to pay the whole amount. Angel Investigations can't afford interest payments. We have to make every dollar count around here.The interest we pay could go toward an increase in my salary.... or... pay for a new coffee maker which we seriously need. So you will have to pay the whole thing."

I can't bloody believe this. This stupid chit is sticking her nose into my finances. She has a hell of a nerve. I put one hand on the desk and lean across it and glare at her. "What the bloody hell business is it of yours how I handle my finances?"

She cocks her head on one side and gives me that bored look she likes to affect. "What finances are those?"

I am stung. I have finances just like everybody else. "What? Just because i don't go around bragging about my bankroll, doesn't mean I don't have one."

She holds out her hand. "Three hundred sixty seven dollars and twenty six cents please."

I don't have to put up with this. I am a grown up demon with a bad temper and she better watch out.

I grab the ten bucks off the desk and hold it under her nose. "Do you want this or not?" She sits back, folds her arms and looks at me with her eyebrows again.

"Do I have to talk to Angel about this?"

Now I am really pissed. I throw the bills into her lap and with the great dignity born of 128 years of the necessity of living with sodding humans, I open the door to the inner office, go fluidly through and close it quietly behind me. I feel like the top of my head is going to blow off. I hear her yelling at me from her desk. "You don't have to slam the door and I want that money."

It's time for a walk in the tunnels. What I need is air. At 2:00 in the afternoon it's hard to get oxygen in the street, if you're concerned about bursting into flames. I go down the lift to the kitchen. Angel is asleep. I put him to sleep a couple hours ago by rubbing his feet with that new massage oil that I got with the freaking credit card. I can hear him snoring. Part of me wants to rip the pots and pans and dishes off the shelves. Part of me wants to hang Cordelia up by her mousy brown roots. And another part of me is mewling that it doesn't know how I'm going to pay the bill. That's the part I ain't paying any attention too. I smack my hand down on the edge of the sink. Sod it all. Money.

I get my duster off the wall and go to the tunnel door. The handle creaks as I turn it down. I freeze. The snoring has stopped. Then I hear, "Spike?" Bloody hell. I turn around and walk through the kitchen and over to the door of the bedroom.

"You awake, Peaches?"

He looks at me, sleepy, warm, sleek, with fluffy brown hair and eyes like chocolate. Look at the stupid big mutt. Who'd think he used to be the Scourge of Europe? Who'd ever imagine he was into maiming, torture, rape, and murder? I sigh and walk over to the bed. "Thinking about going for a walk, Pet. Want to come?"

He looks at me curiously. "Not coming back to bed? It's only 2:15."

"Feel itchy. Need to move."

He doesn't say anything for a second. Then, "What's wrong?"

"Who says anything is wrong?"

He looks away with impatience. Then he looks back. "What's up? Tell me." I take an unneeded breath and sigh. What kind of magic does he have? What makes him so hard to resist? what makes me want to climb back in that bed and lick him and bite him till the sheets are soaked with our blood and semen. Till we're too spent to get up when the Queen Bee calls down with vision business.

He reaches out and takes my wrist in his hand; he knows how to make my knees shiver. "Come here," he says. I do. Fuck it. No, fuck him. No, fuck me, please. Please, Angel. Another black t-shirt ripped to shreds as he wipes one hand under it and tears it up to the collar so it falls back off my shoulders. I sink down on top of him and he rolls me over so I'm tangled in his arms and the sheets and I can't move. He kisses me deep and soft. Then he looks at me. "Don't worry about the money. It was worth it to see that bag full of stuff. You think about me when we're not together and . and that's all that matters. I appreciate it." I close my eyes. Now he's going to pay the bill and she'll look at me for days like I was something that crawled out from under a crypt. No friggin way.

I say, "Thanks, Love, but it's my problem. I'll figure it out."

He kisses me again. "I knew you'd say that, but...." and then his arm slips out from under me and slides the sheets out from between us. He finds my belt buckle and loosens it. Then he pulls my Levi's down and over my cock . "But, don't waste time worrying about it." He shoves his hand into the pant leg and nudges them both down and off my legs. He pulls off my socks. The bed is warm and the sheets are smooth against my back. He is heavy on top of me, crushing me into the mattress. He takes my cock in his hand and runs his thumb over the tip. I moan and arch my neck back into the pillow. He rubs it again and again and I want to beg him to make me come. "Beg me," he whispers into my ear and oh I do.

"Please, please, Angel. Please."

His grip tightens and he pumps me gently at first, then faster. I hear singing in my veins. He leans over and licks the head and sucks, pulling me deeper into his throat. I am probably screaming now, my right hand twisted into his hair. the left gripping his shoulder. He takes me in all the way and the muscles in his cheeks and his tongue are massaging me, milking me, and I come deep in the tight cave of his throat. He swallows down the semen and holds me tight until the orgasm slows and the contractions stop. Then he slowly releases the pressure and slides his mouth and tongue up and off. One last lick around the head and he lies back against the pillow. I am limp, but I turn to him and kiss him against the side of his head. "Thanks," I say.

"You're welcome." We snuggle.

"I'll get the money, Pet," I say.

"How?" he says pragmatically.

"Don't know."

"Let me know if I can help."

"Yeah, maybe."

"As credit card bills go,it isn't much."

"It's $367.26, Pet. Can't get much worse than that."

"Spike, do you have any idea how much Cordelia owes on one of her many cards?"

"Not a clue, Mate."

He chuckles."One pair of diamond chip earrings from Neiman Marcus costs more than you owe, and how many pairs of those boots do you think she has? Give you some perspective? I don't pay her enough to keep the bill collectors from her door." I get me an idea. I sit up. He has this uh oh expression. It changes to a hard stare. I ignore him. I get up, pull my pants on, buckle the belt, go over to bureau for a new t-shirt and slip it on. Put on my socks and shoes.

"Where are you going?"

"Out."

He looks serious and a little annoyed. "You're taking this too seriously."

"Listen, Pet, when have you known me to take anything too seriously?"

"I know you better than you think."

I laugh at him. I find my duster, throw it on and go over to the bed.

"Don't get up, Mate. Be back in a bit." I give him a peck on the mouth. He tries for more than that, but I am quick and back off. He looks annoyed, but he knows that sometimes I just have to do what a vampire's gotta do.

I go out the tunnel door and start the long walk toward the ocean. I bash a Kesrath demon and duke it out with a couple of vampires along the way just to work off some steam. By the time I get to the culvert, the sun has set and I'm free to move about. The beach is quiet and I look at the sky. Dru used to like the beach. She'd sit in the moonlight in that white lace dress chatting up the stars and singing to the constellations. I walk down the sand. The tide is half way out and the way over the rocks is clear. About half a mile down from the mouth of the culvert there's a sort of natural sea cave. Not your big, touristy caves that they make commercials inside of, but a small hole just big enough to wriggle into if you're about my size. Angel would get stuck. The entrance is covered with some bushes and driftwood. Not many people come this way so it's safe as stashes go. I look around and make sure no one is near by. I sniff the air. Sea lions, sea gulls, some pelicans. The usual tidal animal smells. I kneel down and pull the debris away from the hole. I light my zippo and hold it just inside and look around. Just like I left it three years ago. Seems like a lifetime.

I crawl inside. It widens after a couple of feet just enough to sit up with head room. I pull some of the beach junk behind me to hide the opening and untie the first garbage bag. It is wrapped around a large blue and white cooler with a picture of a surf boarder on the side. I pull the cooler out onto the sandy floor and pop it open.

I dig around inside and in a minute or two I have what I need. When I get back it's after dark. I go into the office from the street.

She is still in her chair filing her nails.

"Hello, Cordelia, " I say winningly. She doesn't give me a glance, just swings side to side in her chair.

"Got a deal for you, " She looks up. "How about we make a deal?" She looks Highly Doubtful.

"What do you think I am, idiot of the month?"

"Now, Sweets, not a good way to do business. Have to keep an open mind. Hear me out?"

"I'm vision free at the moment. Give it your best vampire loser demon shot."

I ignore the lip.

"OK. What if I could find a way to get you into La Veranda for dinner some night?"

She looks at me like I am a piece of three day old, cold pizza.

"Really. Truly, Love."

"Something tells me I so should not listen to this."

"No scoffing. What if I could?"

"You can't."

"Know that for a fact, do you?"

"Listen, Mr. The Bloody , there is no way you can get me into La Veranda. You have to know important people to get in. You have to be in The Business. You have to be some.....body. You have to be important yourself. You have to be famous. Do you actually imagine you fit any of those categories?"

"Cordelia, conjure up in your tiny mind a picture of me in a tuxedo."

She has to think about this for a minute. Not only did I change the subject, but I'm asking her to switch a bunch of intermediate gears and this takes some doing when you're as set in your mind as Lady Nieman-Marcus. She looks at me curiously.

"Hmm." She smiles in spite of herself. "Well, that would be something to see." She frowns again, "Are you saying you would go with me? Oh, that would be too embarrassing. I would want to go with, say, Ricky Martin, or Johnny Depp or Antonio if Melanie gives him up."

"Well, Pet, if you go, you go with me. Try that picture again and add Angel, Gunn and Wesley. Four of the best bods on the planet in tuxedos at the bleeding table with you, our gracious Queen of Diamonds." I bow deeply to her, kind of like Robin Hood does to Maid Marion.

She sits looking at me, pencil twiddling in the air. She says, "All four of you?"

"Well, I have to let them in on it, but I don't think there will be much resistance."

"But no one here is famous. I get the best bodies in tuxedos part, I'm not unconscious of the potential, given tasteful selection, of all four of you, of course, but who is famous and for what? How will you pay for it? You can't even pay your credit card bill. It's impossible."

"Leave it to me, Pet."

She looks like she's torn between wanting to believe and her conviction that I am a 130 year old hyperactive adolescent egomaniac with a grandiose imagination who can never be believed on general principles and long experience with. But she really wants to believe. Badly.

I smile like a pussycat. I say, "Let me work on it. Later, Love." I walk through to Angel's office and get into the lift and drop down to the apartment. Angel is out, foraging through the tunnels for souls to save. I sit down on the bed and pull the small suede bag out of my pocket. Ah, the wages of sin. Twenty four perfect one caret diamonds taken off a smuggler on a packet out of Singapore seventy years ago. I remember how he tasted, like a mix of rum, gunpowder, and old rat pelts. Yummy.

I look at them sparkling in the golden light of the art deco lamp by the bed. I need to sigh blissfully, so I take a breath and let it out slowly. I like diamonds. Bloody nuisance having to go after them and get salt water on my Docs, but once in awhile it's necessary to raid a stash.

Most of the time I get along without money. It's easy when mostly nobody thinks you have any. Of course I don't have any, that is, in the form dollar bills. But I can get them by trading in something like these little beauties. The frigging problem is that I can't go to a bank or to a jewelry store or someplace that is gonna be attached to whatever government currently has its finger in the moolah pie. So it takes some effort and some creative thinking. I think that maybe there are some blokes willing and able to fence or buy these babies, if I can only find them. I put them back in the bag. I think about who we know who has a lot of money and Billionaire David Nabbit just sambas into my cerebral video monitor, does a fancy step or two and smiles receptively at me. That could have its repercussions Angel-wise though, 'cause probably Angel would think I am using an important client for my own purposes. Now where did that thought come from? When did I start thinking over consequences? Probably since I had to buy all that lipstick for Cordelia. But that was with Angel's credit card and that 's how I got into all this trouble in the first place. I hate consequences. Never would have had to worry about this if this chip had never shown up. Bleedin Initiative.

If I can keep Cordelia distracted so she doesn't nag Angel about the bill, then I can get these little gems exchanged and give her the money. I can also afford to pay for the distraction. I know La Veranda sounds like overkill in the distraction department, but I'm kind of taken with the picture of me in a tux next to Angel in a tux, walking into some fancy place where the patrons would shit all over themselves if they knew a couple of nasty vampires and three lower class working types were planning to sit down next to them and...oh, right, food. Well, Angel can have whiskey, brandy and coffee and I can have whiskey, vodka, coffee, brandy, and all the desserts. The point is, there we'll be, a motley, but absofuckinglutely pretty, crew of classless wankers in the best restaurant in the Entertainment Capital of the World. It makes me chuckle.

I lean back and play with the whole idea and shut my eyes, images of amazed patrons impressed with our devastatingly gorgeous bodies, gussied up like fake penguins , looking desirable and tough and rich and bored and.......Angel is standing over me holding the suede bag and looking into it.

"Planning to settle up with Cordelia?" he says with a grin.

"Give me that, Peaches. 's mine." I say sleepily.

He tosses it onto my chest and takes off his coat.

"Just what is this about all of us going to La Veranda?"

"Miss Blabber Gums can't keep shut about anything can she?" I say.

"It's a good idea. How come you can think of stuff to do for her birthday and I can't? I've been trying to think of something for days."

"Sorry, mate, didn't know it was her birthday. Just trying to keep her mind off the bill."

He looks at me. He has that patient expression. He sits down on the edge of the bed.

"You meant it though, right? She's excited. You can't back out of it."

"Course I did. Like to see those assholes when the five of us walk in ." He looks like he knew there was more to it than Cordelia's birthday.

"Picture it, Pet. What do you think would happen?"

"I think we'll get a table near the kitchen, they'll do their best to take our order and get us out as fast as possible. "

"No, you big dope. We will be with Cordelia, the third prettiest lady in the world and who will be able to resist the four of us?"

He looks at me, his smile is sober, but i detect a faint flicker of gold deep in his left eye. If he has doubts about the idea, Angelus doesn't. This is right up Angelus' proverbial alley.

"Besides, if we don't like the table, we just put on our grrrr looks and tell em to change it. Chip or no I can look just as evil as always. Don't get migraines for just looking evil."

"Does she know you think she's only the third most attractive female you know?"

"Don't know the other two. Gong Li and Angela Basset. Hey, you don't think one of em would be there? Wouldn't do to have people looking at anyone but Cordelia on her birthday. Besides, my eyes could get tired going back and forth between them and you."

He grins. "I see any back and forth between anybody else and me, I'm gonna bring you back here, tie you to the bed, and fuck you till you can't see anything ever again."

"I'm shocked at such soulless threats of rough sex, Peaches. My, my, I better be careful. Tucked, sucked and fucked by a nasty, poofy, soapy smelling, silk encrusted vampire demon like you scares the jism right out of me. Maybe we better practice so I got a thorough idea what I'm in for."

He smacks me on the side of the head. I smack him back. He snatches the suede bag and tosses it onto the bureau and then reaches for me, but I am gone off the other side of the bed. He makes a dive for me across the mattress, but I take one step up onto it and jump up like it's a trampoline and come down on him. He bucks up and I go flying onto the floor. He whips off the bed, wraps both arms around my waist and lifts me up and throws me back into the sheets. I roll for the side, but he throws himself on top of me. He thinks he has the weight advantage, being so fat, but I am a fast wiggler and I worm my way out from under him. Not quite fast enough though cause he's got my wrists now and that means he could win this round. I haul my knee up and mash him in the ribs. He grunts but doesn't let go and pulls me up the bed and takes them both in one paw while he goes for the belt in my duster with the other. I am writhing and kicking ,but he gets the belt and winds it around my wrists and ties it to a brass post. He grabs the buckle on my pants belt, jerks it up and rips it loose. I kick him in the back with my knees. He leans on my legs and tears the belt out of the loops and then winds it around one of my ankles, pulling the ends around another bed post. I kick him in the head with my free foot. The Doc Martin makes a crease in his gelled up fluffy mess of hair. He slams my leg down and sits on it. He looks at me. I am rearing up off the bed and bouncing him around, but he has me and we both know it. He waits till I stop and glare at him.

Without taking his eyes off mine, he opens the button on my jeans and slides the zipper down.

"Ready for practice?" he says. "I wonder where I should start. Maybe here." He leans forward and runs his tongue up the underside of my penis. I make a loud squeak. He puts his hand over my mouth and brings his head up to my ear. "The only sounds I want out of you are those that combine to say, Pleaseangelplease. You may repeat them as often as you want. Nothing else. Oh, wait, yesangelyes will be permitted as well. Try saying it,, now. " He gives one of my nipples a twist. I twist in the opposite direction. He twists it again and lowers his mouth to it and nips. Bastard knows just what to do. "Pleaseangelplease." I beg. He chuckles and drags his tongue down my stomach to the head of my cock, surrounds it with his mouth and caresses it with his tongue. I want to scream. He takes the whole penis in and sucks it with the muscles at the back of his throat. I arch myself up off the bed till I'm nearly bent double and howl, "YesAngelyes pleaseAngelpleasepleasepleeeeeaaaasseeeee." He lets me go and sinks to my balls. I feel him take them one at a time into his mouth and move them around with his tongue. His hand begins to pump my cock in a steady rhythm and I can't hold it any more. "I'm coming!" I yell. He locks my orgasm off by pressing on the base of my penis and prevents me from coming. I twist and thrash as he growls happily, pleased with his ability to torment me. I feel two fingers enter my ass, stretching the sphincter, smoothing the way for his cock. He lifts me and slides my jeans down then turns me on my side and I feel the fingers again and the coolness of the lubrication. He teases me -- one finger, then two, then three, then I feel his cock as it slowly enters the opening and pushes its way into my colon. I clench my teeth and hiss through them. He wraps his arms around me, his lips touch my ear. He whispers, "Say it again. Say it." I can hardly get the words out. "Yes, Angel......yes, yes! He laughs and licks my ear as his cock finds a beat and fucks me in and out and increasing the tempo. I wail as I come in his hand and he snarls and sinks his teeth in my neck as he fills me with his semen. I am delirious, nearly mindless. He reaches up and releases my hands from the belt. He brings my wrists together and down in front of my chest.

"Nothing like practice," he whispers in my ear.

I am lost, limp, at the mercy of the big, hulking bully. I lie still and whimper happily. He kisses the back of my neck and then my ear and finally licks all of my scalp he can reach. My hair is wet and sticking up in points from his saliva. I feel a need to breathe from habit and gasp in and out a few times. I lie still. He rolls me on my back and lies on top of me. He lets my hands go and kisses me sending his tongue down deep. I respond and kiss back holding on to the suction as long as I can, sweeping my tongue past his and into his throat, lapping, and licking. We lie there deepening the kiss, until somehow the passion eases. He breaks away and looks down at me. I can feel myself wanting to disappear into those two brown seas of chocolate syrup. "I love you, Spike, I love you. Are you all right?"

I say, "Of course I'm all right you fat sot. I let you win. Next time, it's my turn. Watch your back cause it could happen any time. You'll never know what hit you." I pause, "And, 'course, I love you too, Peaches. Never doubt it. Never."

He slides off me and lies on his side, head on his hand, and watches me. I watch him back. He grins. He is pleased with himself, the asshole. Got one up on me, didn't he? The big sap.

I push him off me. He rolls to the side of the bed and stands up. "Well we better get those reservations settled. I don't think we'll get far by calling. Better to show up with that little suede bag of yours. Or, were you going to trade them in for paper?"

"I thought I'd find a friendly pawn broker. That's easier than getting into some hassle with some bank, Love." He tells me he knows a pawn broker down by the docks. I get the belt off my leg and sit up and pull up my pants. He is looking at my crotch. I give him a look that says, just put a cap on it mate, but I love that you're insatiable. He grins and backs away and gets dressed.

We decide to go to the docks by way of the tunnels seeing as how it's still light out. I get an idea as we go west toward the harbor. I know where there's a junction that separates demon and homeless turf. Sometimes there's a game going on between some of both sides. I heard about it, but I've never seen it. We drop down into the deeper, older tunnels and come to the junction. There's a few homeless old dudes hanging out, swilling wine. I ask one of them where the game is. He nods at me. I lean over. He whispers, "Check the left wing of tunnel 20H under the bank." I look at Angel. He'd like to keep this simple, just the pawnbroker, but a game with a bunch of wankers appeals to me, especially if they're a bunch of demons. I can cheat and not worry about Angel's conscience. I take the lead and head for the spot.

Sure enough, we find them right where the old coot said they'd be. Four of them; a toothy Torvath, an froggy type like Crib, a blue four-eyed frizzly one, and then, the king pin, something with eyes like an eagle but with a longer face and long forearms with claws so sharp and curved that for a second I think --familiar--but dismiss the thought 'cause I'm sure I've never run across one of these. But, still..somewhere, I've seen it. It's kind of sick looking. Patchy skin, gooey green stuff running out of one eye. They're all crouched around a cardboard box with a raggedy bunch of cards. Humble surroundings for a game that probably has higher stakes than the same kind of deal in Vegas.

I walk up to the box and say, "Hey, got room for another one, Mates?" I light a cigarette. Angel stands just behind me, watching, the perfect wise guy backing up the boss.

Claws eyes me. He is about as scary as a grizzly pissed off because some crow stole his salmon. He has those eyes that can see both front and to the sides. He doesn't miss much. He's as tall as Angel and that long jaw could take of f my head with one snap. He sniffs the air. Then he gives me an odd look. Cocks his head, sort of. Makes a hoarse squawk that echoes back into the darkness. I hear an odd clicking in the recesses of the tunnel.

Something materializes slyly out of the gloom. It looks like the king pin, but is bigger and covered in gray downy feathers and has huge retractable claws on the inside of each eagle-like foot. It's those claws that make that clicking noise. It looks at the other three card players and some silent communication passes between them. They move out, disappearing into the blackness. It swerves its head on its long snake-like neck to look at me. I feel Angel tense behind me. It sniffs the air. Then it comes toward me. I stand very still, ready for a fight. It lowers its beaky mug to my boots and sniffs again. Then it works its way up my body over my duster to my shoulder. I am ready now, no getting my head snipped off by that set of jaws. It cocks its head and looks at me. I stare back. It swivels its head around to look at Angel, then back to me. It says, "Meeep?"

I turn quickly and look at Angel. He looks astonished, but nods at me. I say, "Meeep?" It sways lightly from side to side (where have i seen that movement before?)

" Chilllldruunnn." it says.

" Oh.....yes, I have the children. They are safe."

It swivels around and huffs at the king pin. He looks at us. "Play for chillldruunn." He slaps the cards down. Angel steps forward. "We take care of the children, they are not objects of gambling."

"How else we get them back? You fear the gaaaame?"

"We can ask them if they want to come back to you." The downy one slinks its head around and puts its beak in Angel's face. I don't like that so I step away from him taking most of the smell with me. Downy whips that head around toward me and Angel steps back. Downy snarls. "Childrun belongggg with grandmother." Ye Gods, Gramma. Then it comes to me. Two kids running through a kitchen with two of these after them. Jurassic Park. Velociraptors. Females bigger than the males. I hear more clicking and two more big bad mamas dissolve out of the funky grayness of the tunnel. Red down this time and as big as Grandmama. Just the ladies out for a little pack hunt. One of them snarls at the the guy with the cards. He puts the cards down and fades. We are left with the matriarch and her gals.

"Where are childruuunnnn?" says the gray lady.

I say, "Look, they're safe. My buddy's right. We need to ask them if they want to come back to this, uh, extended family. Funny though, would never have guessed they're yours, don't really look like you too bloody much."

"Half breeds, foolish male. The mother, a scorpion demon, much magic, seduced my boy, stupid little stud. Childruunn are result. But ours, no maatter. Ours." She ends this speech with a long whispery rattle that puts my stomach in my boots.

Angel says, "We'll ask them. Then let you know what they say." Nice try, Peaches. Both of us know it won't be that easy. But they don't seem to get that we're vampires and that might give us an edge. I take a step back in the direction we came from. Granny looks at me. The two red ones begin a flanking maneuver. I saw Jurassic Park and I know what that means. Angel says to me, "Run like hell." We do. They are fast, but a vampire on the move? Catch us if you can. We are gone like smoke. We hear them behind us, but they're losing ground. Two more junctions and I don't hear those prehensile claws clicking. I shout to Angel, "Stop." We stand listening. Nothing. He says, "Keep moving. And I thought we were the top of the food chain."

"No comment," I say. "We were lucky to get out of there with out dusters intact." He shudders. Right. We keep moving, but not quite so fast. I am wondering about these two little rug rats we have at the apartment. Half raptor, half scorpion, magic sparkles, red down. Whew. What do we have in store for us?

Angel says, "Wonder what those two will be like when they grow up?"

I say, "Yep, wonder who they got the sparkle genes from? Nothing twinkley about Grandma."

We get to the entrance to the apartment. We discuss raptor smell and tracking skills. We decide to secure this entrance. We go in and look for Wesley. He's in the book room. He looks unhappy. Bugsy is sitting on his shoulder, snuffling.

Wesley sighs when he sees us. "Where have you chaps been? Cordelia came to me a half an hour ago and told me we are all going to La Veranda as soon as you make reservations. I started to ask her what the devil she was talking about, but decided I'd better speak to you first. Bugsy was with me and he got very excited about "going" someplace. She told him he couldn't go and he's been weepy like this ever since."

I pick Bugsy up from Wesley's shoulder. "Course you can go, Pet. You'll fit in my pocket."

"Uh, Spike. Let's think this through. Little Fellow will want to go too. Maybe we should carry a bag of some sort," says Angel.

"Yeah, like they have for those lap dogs that toffs carry around."

Bugsy is chirping happily on my palm making a small sparkle cloud around his head. Wesley looks like he doesn't believe we're having this conversation at all.

He says, "So, we really are going to La Veranda?"

"Yes," says I, "just as soon as I make reservations and don't give me that 'you, make reservations where?' crap. A cat can look at a king. Cordelia can go to that bleeding toff eatery and so can the rest of us. Meantime we've got another problem ." Angel explains about Grandma and the girls. Wesley heads for the kitchen to look up the binding powder recipe. Lucky thing for us I watch the telly and know about dinosaurs and stuff like that.

I hear the sound of platform sandals on the stairs. Lady Prickelpuss is on her way down. "Hallo, Ducks," I say, before she can get on about me paying the bill.

(Hey, Reader, yes you, wake up, remember the sodding bill?)

"We just met a couple of your relatives down the tunnels. We said hello for you, but they were distracted. Seemed unfriendly too. Think they might have followed us with evil intentions. But we know they'll be no match for our Cordelia, so we think we're pretty safe in here."

She tosses her head. "You're insane, Spike. I know that. We all know that. Whatever drivel you're drooling now won't get you out of paying that credit card off. Are you going to get that money?"

Something about her pressuring me for the cash gets Angel's goat. He comes around me frowning at her. "Cordelia. Spike will pay the bill. Stop nagging."

She raises her eyebrows and looks at the ceiling. "Gee, we just started a new century. Can't imagine the bank cares to wait till the next one."

Angel is really glowering now. I step in. "Get shut about it both of you. I'll take care of the bill. It's my problem. You two can forget about it."

Angel looks away from Miss C and then back, real Cro Magnon with those chestnut eyes glowing darkly from under those brows. He's not smiling. Doesn't like it when someone picks on his Poopsie. Such a sweet, protective old vampire. No wonder I love him. She keeps her eyes on the overhead beams, a smirk on her gob. I have to grin. I finger the suede bag in my pocket. Twenty four diamonds, each worth about 5,000.00 apiece in 1930 when I copped them. If I could just get rid of one of them, I'd pay this bill and the one at La Veranda. Speaking of which, I better make that call to David Nabbit.

I go into the bedroom where Hortense can't hear, pick up the cell phone and call Davey Big Bucks. He finally comes on after about three secretaries and it sounds like he's really glad to hear from one of us. Poor little sod sits behind a desk counting cash all day. No fun in his life, no adventure. I tell him the story about the bill and the diamonds and it occurs to me suddenly to ask him if he wants to go to La Veranda. Boy, does he. He tells me he knows the freaking owner and offers to make the bleeding call. I say that I was just about to do that, but he can, if he really wants to a lot. He puts me on hold. I wait, scratching Little Fellow's back as he lies curled up in the middle of Angel's pillow. Nabbit comes back. We can have a table a week from Saturday night. I say, that really might not be the best 'cause Cordelia's birthday is next Tuesday. He puts me on hold again. He comes back again. He says they will fix it if we come a little later at 9:30. I say that should be fine and tell him to order a cake with 35 candles. He balks a bit at this and says he thinks she's only about 21. I tell him to trust me I know what I'm doing. He says okay, and not to tell Cordelia, but that particular table is next to the one Steven Spielberg sits at when he's there. Well, if we're not raptor hash by Tuesday, maybe Stevie will give us some advice about how to get rid of those three gorgons.

I ask him about the diamonds and what they were worth back when. He says the market is good right now. He tells me to take them down to the exchange. Better yet, he will take them down. I ask how much La Veranda is going to cost and should I exchange more than one. He laughs. He says one will probably do it if the meal costs 300.00 per person and there are 5 of us, then that will be 1500 plus a 300.00 tip for 1800 plus 75.00 for parking . There will be tuxedo rental for four guys ( he's got one already) and a dress and shoes and bag for Cordelia amounting to about 4000.00. Oh, earrings--another 200.00. I add it up in my head and see that with the credit card bill the whole thing with tips will come to about 6500.00. He adds that I don't have to worry about the limo cause we can use his. I ask what the diamonds are worth these days, and he whistles. "With appreciation they are probably worth about 30,000 each."

"Oh," I say. Thought so, I did. Diamonds are a vampire's best bud. He will come over later and pick up the crystal, gives him an excuse to " hang."

We switch off. I go back out where Wesley is making raptor repellent. I tell them we have reservations for Tuesday at 9:30. Cordelia looks at me like she can't believe its true. I look at her like, "What, didn't think I had the connections?"

She says she'll need to get shopping right away. I explain that the dress, shoes, bag, and earrings are part of the deal. Her mouth drops open and she drools a little. Then, Miss Bad 'n Bossy sags and faints dead away into Angel's arms. He stands there holding her up and looks at me. We both burst out laughing. She comes too and gathers her wits. She sees us snorting and sputtering. She puts her hand up to her head and pushes Angel away.

"Did I faint? I fainted. Eewww. Me. If one of you ever tells anybody about this, I'll stake you. And Wesley, I'll scratch your eyes out and ruin all your ties.." Wesley raises both hands, palms outward in a gesture of peace.

"All right, " she says, "What about the four of you? Remember the tuxedos?"

"Not your worry, Pet. We'll do the penguin shuffle, all of us You better get shopping. And pick up one of those pet carrier things with the little mesh windows. The rug rats are going with us. "

She looks doubtful for a second, but is too busy thinking about shopping to let anything else get in the way.

"Okay," she starts up the stairs. "I'll get Gunn to go with me."

Angel asks me whether Gunn even knows about this. I yell up to her that G-man doesn't know he's going. She yells back that she will inform him. I grin. Guess we won't get any guff from the Big Guy about being stuffed into a tux. Cordelia will make it real clear to him.

Now all I have to do is wait for BDN to pick up the diamonds, so he can make the exchange. Wesley has got the protection spell powder all around the tunnel door and the floor grates just in case the She-gang starts snooping around. I take off my duster, flop down on the couch and flip on the telly. Angel gets a couple packets of blood out of the fridge and pops them in the microwave. Wesley settles down next to me with a book from the library on dinosaurs. It has a picture in it of a pack of velociraptors attacking one of those horned dinos. It says they think they might have worked a lot like wolves or a pride of lionesses or those little wild dogs on the Animal Planet channel. They probably had feathers and were smart too. I can vouch for the feathers--and the brains. Those babes are nobody to mess with. Wonder who conjured them up. Angel brings over two mugs of blood. He sits down on the rug and puts his back against my knees. I rub his neck with one hand (being careful not to muss the locks) while I work the remote. We settle on the AMC movie channel and watch The Beast of Twenty Thousand Fathoms.

I am starting to nod off when the bell rings and Nabbit comes in. Angel gets up and I go and get the bag. I have a moment of trepidation when I see Little Fellow and Bugsy in the middle of the bed playing something like tiddly winks with the diamonds. I take them away, find the bag on the floor and count them into it. Twenty-two. Two are missing. I look around in the sheets, but don't find them. Oh, well. Twenty -two is good enough. I take them out to Nabbit and he looks them over. He says he thinks they're going to be worth a lot. He gives me a receipt for them and says he found out he can't go on Tuesday. He looks real disappointed, but he has a problem in Taiwan and he has to fly out tomorrow night. He doesn't think he'll be back before Thursday. He tells me the reservation is under the name Angel Jones and that the muttered said we'd be well cared for. We give him our regrets, Angel and Wesley looking a little curious about it. He promises to have the money to me by Monday. He leaves. I explain that I had to invite him 'cause otherwise he might not have made the reservations. Angel grins at me. Wesley looks like he thought all along I could never have managed it myself. "Didn't think I could manage it? I did manage it. I managed to get Nabbit to do it for me. Same deal, right?" Nabbit nods, smiling and takes off.

Wesley says good night. Angel goes into the bedroom, scoops up the kiddies, takes them into the bathroom and runs the tub. In a minute he has about two inches of tepid water and a couple of plastic boats. He drops the rats in and they splash around for a few minutes shoving the boats about. I get the shampoo and lather them up and they splash around some more and get rinsed. We pull them out and set them on a towel and they roll on it and dry off. Meantime we are discussing the raptor problem.

It's Angel's opinion that someone used a revival spell and went back 65 million years and popped these into the present. If they breed there could be real problems. I guess it was probably the Initiative or some quasi military bunch looking for yet another perfect killing machine.

"Let's sleep on it," He finally says. I agree. I yawn. That makes everybody else yawn and we head for the bed. There are some protests as usual when we settle the kiddies in their file box beds by the living room couch, but Peaches and I need our privacy. Pretty soon the two of them are snoring softly.

Angel goes in to fix the bed and finds the two diamonds under the pillow. "For me?" he asks innocently. I wave at him. "Whatever. Keep 'em, Love. Might come in handy."

"You have absolutely no concept of money, do you?" he says.

"Too busy, Pet, what with attending to your overdeveloped sexual needs and Cordelia's lists of Things for Spike To Do, not to mention demon bashing, drinking, and smoking. Days are too full to add economics to the pile."

"Come to bed, Spike." He is looking at me like I am a cherry cordial and he'd like to get his fangs through the chocolate and into the bloody center. Like it when he looks at me like that, I really do. I remember that I owe him a surprise encounter, but now he just looks so big and soft and strong and so damn desirable. I crawl in next to him and gather the spread around me. He pushes himself up on his elbow and looks down at me. I look back. He looks some more. I look back some more. Then he lies down and puts his hands behind his head and checks out the ceiling.

"What?" I say. He turns his head and looks at me sleepily.

"You've changed a lot since you've been here. Don't change any more unless you really want to. I like you just the way you are."

"Love me, you mean. Love me, adore me, are besotted with me, obsessed with me, stuck on me, etc."

"All of the above." he says with a grin.

"Thought so, night Pet."

"Night." I push against his cool thigh so that we are touching from hip to ankle. I take his hand and, shoulders together, we sleep.

*******

Tuesday comes fast. Cordelia is unable to work at all. Angel checks her temperature because she looks flushed all day. Wesley takes over and does the filing and answers the phone. Fortunately she is vision free for now. She has the dress. We all have the tuxes. Gunn is here. Everything is ready. I even have the money. The money came yesterday and I already can't remember how much there is. I gave Her Majesty the shoe and dress money. I have lots of the packages of it left. Something like fifty fifty dollar bills per pack all stuffed in the back of the closet in Dru's old trunk. I have a couple packs in my tux pocket to pay for dinner. We are all ready. Angel gives her the flowers he ordered--camillias for Cordelia. The limo arrives and the five of us set off, me with the pet carrier with Bugsy and Little Fellow inside. Angel gets into the limo first and helps Cordelia in. She is wearing a long black velvet dress with black satin shoes and has a black shawl that looks like it's made from spider webs. it has silver threads that make it glimmer. She has earrings made from that black stuff, that was popular in the Victorian Era--marcasite, that's it. She has her hair piled up on her head kind of loose with stray strands hanging down. Not bad. If I was into women, this is one I'd definitely give a second look. We sit around on the limo bench sizing one another up. I let the rats out and they sit and giggle and sparkle and peek at Cordelia. She is radiant, I must say. Angel looks almost too happy. Gunn looks a little worried but is trying to hide it by looking stuck up. Wesley looks completely comfortable, all lounged back and casual, like Cary Grant or something. My neck is itching a little, but otherwise I'm okay. We do look like a bunch of penguins out with a chic, black seal. We have identical tuxes. Black with tails, white shirts, dark red tapestry vests and burgundy cummerbunds. It makes me want to giggle along with the kiddies.

"Wipe that smirk, man, this is serious. Try to look like you're used to this, like it's natural," says Gunn. Pure projection. He's the one who's worried about being natural.

"Get stuffed," I say, "Oh, half a mo'', you already are."

He gives me the Gunn glower, folds his arms and sits back. Angel is looking amused and I know his mind is back a hundred years in Milan at some party or other where he is the most handsome guy in the house and all the women are falling all over him along with several of the men. If he says anything at all, I expect his voice to carry an Irish lilt.

We get to the restaurant. I am bloody astounded. I have been in some swank joints in my time (Angelus knew how to pick 'em), but this is outrageous. It has everything from columns to orchids to cactus to oriental carpets on the wide, gas lit steps that go from parking up to the entrance. The lighting is romantic, the limos are everywhere (I don't see one single vehicle that could be called a car), the people are dressed to the hilt on a Tuesday night. Man, the moolah this all represents must be something.

We get out one by one. Gunn is nervous, licking his lips and jiggling the change in his pocket. Wesley is looking around, smiling, in his element for once. Angel has that expression I was counting on. It's the one Angelus wears when he decides he's looking forward to some fun. One side of his mouth goes wide and slightly up and his eyes turn to slits and the corners wrinkle. Angelus is going to have a good time tonight in spite of his souled counterpart.

It's the Queen of Office Assistance that I can't get over. She emerges from the car like Elizabeth I descending from a carriage. Perfect posture, perfect teeth, shining eyes, glowing cheeks. Oi, i think, what have I done? Will there be any living with her from now on?

The valet tells the driver where to take the car and a host descends the stairs and offers to show us the way up. Angel tips the valet. I watch him and realize he knows a lot more about this than I do. Better pay attention to my sire tonight. Not that I wouldn't. He is bloody gorgeous. I like the way his neck bulges out of his collar. Makes him look a tad brutal. Wouldn't mind shoving him down on these orientals and shagging him right here. God, he makes me hard. I hunch forward a little to hide my crotch from the host and the elegant crew ascending the stairs around us. Angel takes my elbow and I look at him. The amusement dancing in his eyes just makes me harder. I shrug his hand off. Gotta keep some dignity, here.

The huge carved doors are open to the soft breeze and we go through into the sparkling foyer with fountains and huge clusters of designer flower arrangements like you see in Fred Astaire movies. Behind all this is the dining room, but the host ushers us in to the bar or lounge or drinking hall or whatever you want to call it 'cause it's huge and full of appetizer tables and bar tenders and dishes of melon balls and canapes. I feel like I am back in Vienna and Angelus and Darla have hauled me kicking and screaming to the operetta to see Die Fledermaus after dinner at one of the opulent dining establishments of the era. It has that flavor of elegance that I never thought I'd see again.

Gunn is just starring. He has stopped, so I wait up for him. He looks around the room a full 360 degrees and stops his eyes at me, watching him. He jerks a little then moves forward. We catch up to the rest who under Angel's lead have accepted glasses of champagne and little porcelain saucers so they have places to put the caviar and pate' they pick up along the route. A waiter offers champagne to Gunn. He takes it, but I can see he's in a daze, so I thank the waiter and put some crab cakes on a plate and hand it to the G-man. He looks at the crab cakes like they were food from the fourth moon of Saturn. I grab his arm and pull him along.

Angel is moving from table to table, Cordelia on his arm. I notice other guests looking at them. Don't particularly like it, but I remind myself I did expect it. Angel lifts an oyster on a half shell and gestures to Cordelia to open her mouth. She does and he tips the shell gently and the oyster slides from it past her dark red lips and onto her tongue. She closes her eyes and swallows delicately. Two people on the opposite side of the table watch mesmerized. Style is my sire's middle name. Sexy is his given name. When he combines them, people turn around. But I want him to feed me oysters that way. I know this is Her night, but bollocks, that oyster trick isn't fair less I get some too. I go up to them. I clear my throat. Angel takes Cordelia's hand from his arm gracefully and then just as gracefully he takes me by the back of my neck and tips my head back and before I know it an oyster slides its way between my teeth. I swallow and blink. He leans forward and whispers, "Another?"

I look at the couple across the table. They've been joined by four more. An audience. I say clearly, "Yes, My Lord, another, please." He does it again. This time we lock eyes and he never takes his from mine as he tilts the third oyster onto my tongue. Sod it, my hard on is hard on. The group across the table is transfixed. Cordelia's acting lessons kick in. she strokes the side of my face with the back of the fingers of her right hand and picks up a piece of pastry covered spinach and truffle mix with her left hand and pops it into my mouth. "There Little One, feast on that." she says. I almost drop the kiddie box. Angel lets my neck go and smiles regally at the group across the table. "Forgive our child. We dote too much on him, I know. It's a failing of our family--the Irish side, of course." He turns back to me. "Come along, William. " He takes Cordelia's arm again and saunters slowly on to the long appetizer buffet around the fountain in the middle of the room. Gunn gives me a shove and Wesley, hands in his pockets, softly whistles something about a doggy in a window. I feel like I could trip over my cock, it's so fully engorged right now. I clutch the carrier in an attempt to keep myself in the real world. I drop my empty champagne glass on a tray that materializes out of nowhere and take another one. A bar tender comes up and asks me if I would care for a mixed drink. I say, Maker's Mark, straight. He nods and in a moment is back with Kentucky's premier bourbon in a small crystal goblet. I only have one hand so I down the champagne and accept the bourbon. Gunn chuckles at my side.

"Better slow down, Wild Bill," he says. " We gotta gallop through a whole lot more hours here before the Birthday Cake shows up."

"You talking to me? Can hold my liquor, I can. You street types are the guzzlers. Watch yourself, wanker." he jabs me in the ribs, hard. I can't jab him back so I signal the waiter. "My pal here would like a Michelob Light. Got that, haven't you?"

The waiter begins to apologize, but Gunn interrupts him.

"I'm the one who should be sorry. My acquaintance here, Mr. Bloody, misunderstood. I would truly prefer a glass of sherry, thank-you." The waiter smiles and nods at him and disappears.

I look Gunn up and down. I say, "You big gonzo fake, you...fake." I toss the bourbon down and look around for the bar tender. Gunn propels me toward Angel, Cordelia and Wesley. They are moving toward the Dining Room which looks like a gilded barn with huge tapestries hung around the walls in between paned windows that stretch from floor to ceiling.The waiter with the sherry catches up to us. I start to ask for another bourbon, but by then we are up with the rest and the maitr'd is asking us for the name that we are using for the reservation. I push my way between Wesley and Cordelia and say, "Angel Jones. 9:30." The maitre'd consults his schedule, smiles and says, "Please come right this way, Mr. Jones." I follow him down between about 50 large round tables with crisp jacquard linen cloths and enough crystal to crush up to make an new beach at Malibu. He takes us to a table in a nook, screened off somewhat by a collection of orchids whose branches of flowers jitter and swoop as the air moves when we seat ourselves. Angel shakes his head at the waiter who reaches for Cordelia's chair. He pulls it out himself (wish I'd thought of that) and seats her. He sits on her right and pats the chair next to him indicating I am to sit there. I do. That way I can reach his crotch if it becomes necessary or vice versa. I shove the carrier temporarily under the table. Gunn sits on Codelia's left and Wesley is between me and Gunn. We are all looking toward the middle of the setting at a flowered center piece so carefully composed that it doesn't block anyone's view of anyone else.

I look for the kitchen. Nowhere in sight. BDN did his stuff. It's perfect. Except that there are five waiters. They materialize soundlessly to stand around the table. Angel looks cooly at the oldest who is wearing one of those wine spoon things around his neck. "May we suggest a wine, Sir?" says the steward. Angel looks at us. He names a wine that I know is red and that suggests Vienna again, and the steward smiles approvingly and leaves. Another server steps forward.

Angel tells him that others at the table "may prefer something other than wine" and suggests the waiter take the order for drinks individually. Cordelia orders a whiskey sour on the rocks with an extra cherry. Gunn goes for a Beck's dark while Wesley asks for another glass of champagne. I hit him up for the Maker's Mark again. Angel demurs and says that the wine will be fine with him. The waiters reach forward and take our napkins and lay them across our laps. Gunn is wierded right out by this. He leans across Cordelia and says to Angel, "What the fuck?" Angel smiles engagingly and nods. "It's all part of the presentation. Accept it as an element of the performance."

"What performance?"

"This." He looks around the room and back at Gunn. Gunn sits back again and mulls it over.

"You mean we are supposed to sit here like a bunch of idiots and let them baby us to death for 5000.00?"

Angel smiles at him. "You're catching on." Gunn shakes his head. His Becks arrives and he takes a sip. He starts looking the place over seriously. Wesley leans forward and asks Cordelia whether she's enjoying herself. She beams at him. She is just about speechless, but she manages to say that she is enjoying herself and that all of us look very handsome and she's proud to be with us. We all beam. Everybody has rosy rays of light coming out of our ears and we feel warm and cheerful. I hear some rustling from beneath the table and I pull the carrier out . I unzip the cover and lift out Little Fellow and place him just beyond my plate on the table, then I do the same with Bugsy. They sit very still taking it all in. As I look at them I can sort of see a resemblance to Grandmama. They are fuzzy and have claws as well as long beak-like noses, but they are also sort of segmented like the Scorpion side of the family and I think there are shells under that fuzz. Much magic here indeed to meld these two distant tribes. And where did those fluffy sodding eyelashes come from?

The waiters are standing around us again pretending not to notice the two little demons by my plate. One asks if he may suggest appetizers. This is where it will get interesting. Everyone but Angel nods. He works his way around the table and suggests a different appetizer depending on how he guages our tastes. He suggests i have a marinated lamb mousse on a bed of millet finished with a balsamic vinagrette. I say, "Okay." sounds all right to me. Can't remember what everybody else is having, but when they come, the waiters take away the plates with the gold edges that were in front of us and replace them with the appetizers. Gunn rolls his eyes. He says, "What'd they give us these plates for if they weren't going to use them? Don't tell me. Performance." Wesley looks at him sympathetically.

He says, "Just for tonight, try to imagine that this is the way life is supposed to be and that pizza and hot dogs are abnormal food. Accept it. Revel in it. I am."

Gunn snorts, but not too loudly. Cordelia pats his arm. Angel looks dreamily out over the moneyed throng. The rug rats are sitting on the edge of my plate looking at the pile of lamb mousse sitting precariously on top of the "bed" of millet. There is some green stuff, dandelion leaves, I think around the pile. I take one bite. The flavor sifts over my tongue, between my teeth and slips down my throat. It tastes so good that my hand automatically goes to Angel's thigh. He looks at me and his hand covers mine. "Good?" he says. I close my eyes in reply. I open them to see Little Fellow shove Bugsy a handful of mousse. They'll never eat pineapple pizza again. Bugsy swallows, then advances on the rest of it and before I know it, they are both into it and it disappears like smoke.

Angel's hand leaves mine and moves to my thigh then cups itself over my cock. I sit very still. The lamb alone might have made me come, this on top of it has me in a spell. The waiter stands over me. Bugsy and Little Fellow back up off the plate and

he picks the plate up and puts a small dish filled with a scoop of green ice garnished with a small leaf. I pick up a spoon and try it. Pistachio ice. I nod at our two demon charges and they advance again, licking and sneezing at the cold.

I look over at Gunn. He is trying hard to see all this as a play put on for him. He gives up the struggle and says, "What the hell prissy kind of ice cream is this?" No one answers him and he doesn't really seem to expect one. He eats it in one bite and can't help but savor it a little.

Cordelia puts her hand on his arm. "Cleans your mouth for the next course." He nods okay, he can deal with it. We all smile again.

The waiters are back. This time we get some sort of soup. It's thick and orange and has a design in it. I think they took a red spice and swirled it around on top. Some little round crackers come with it. This time the rug rats dive in without waiting for me. I take a taste. Pumpkin, definitely. Gunn puts this away immediately. Angel doesn't touch it, just sits and watches the crowd. Cordelia uses her spoon genteely backing it away to the edge of the bowl. Wesley eats most of his and then stops and leans back looking around.

The wine steward appears and Angel tests it in case it's gone bad or something. He seems to think it's all right so the steward pours a glass for Cordelia and then one for each of the rest of us. I try it. Not bad at all. French I can tell. Probably an old favorite of Angelus.

After the soup there is a salad, then some pasta , then the main dish. By this time Bugsy and Little Fellow are lying down under the centerpiece burping quietly. The entree is some sort of meat wrapped in pastry with a pastry leaf vine weaving over it and down the sides. Each leaf is made from pastry and looks tender and delicious. Ange waves his away and orders more wine. The waiter doesn't even ask him why he's not eating. He puts his hand back over my crotch as I dig into the pastry covered entree. he leans over. "This is a great thing for Cordelia. She's having so much fun, she hasn't even counted up the celebrity possibilities." He sqeezes his hand around me through my trousers. He whispers, "When you're nice to people, i get hard. Actually when you're evil I get hard too. But tonight all I have to do is look at how happy Cordelia is and I think about your doing it and I want to fuck you all the way to the Golden Gate." I reach over and cup his cock in turn. "Just wait a little," I say. "You can fuck me all the way to Frisco if I can fuck you all the way back."

"Done." he says. He releases me. Good thing too, cause I wouldn't want to get up with a wet spot over the front of my tux.

I am about to take another bite of my meat when I see Bugsy sit up suddenly. He looks at me worriedly. Little Fellow sits up too and sniffs the air. He looks at me then, eyes wide. "Geema." he says in a hushed voice.

I lean over to tell Angel, but he's heard and is looking warily around the hall. I stand up. The waiters rush over thinking I want something. I say to the one nearest me. "I want to thank the chef in person. Could you direct me to the kitchen?" In the movie they got into the kitchen. Maybe they have a thing for kitchens. Angel gets up behind me and leans over so all three of the others can hear him. He tells them the raptors may be around and to stay here. Cordelia's eyes are big. Wesley and Gunn look at each other, then at Cordelia. I grab the kiddies and shove them into the carrier and zip it up. They don't protest.

Angel and I follow the waiter to the kitchen. The place is a madhouse, chefs are yelling orders, waiters are grabbing trays, bus boys are running around; the quiet of the dining room is a contrast to the behind the scenes activitiy. Our waiter leads us back to the rear of the kitchen where a tall gray haired chef who looks like he came from some third world country, but not necessarily from human parents, is stirring some sort of rice dish slowly. He is obviously not human. The small curved spines down the back of his neck tell me that. His eyes have long oval pupils like a cat. Angel decides to trust him.

"Look, dinner was good, but we think there may be some trouble here." The chef looks long and hard at Angel, decides to trust back, pulls open a cupboard and hauls out an Uzzi. Then he reaches back in and comes out with a sawed off shotgun and a .38.

"Who and what?" is all he says.

"Velociraptors. Maybe three of them." I say.

He looks at me. "Stevie's kitchen, maybe. Not in mine." Angel tells him we aren't sure, but they may be looking for us. We may be able to lure them somewhere away from the patrons and staff. He nods and hands me the Uzzi. Never worked one of these. Used to my own set of personal weapons, but thinking about that retractable claw gives me second thoughts. Some of the wait staff are standing around watching us. He waves them back to work. The three of us check the doors to the outside. At the second door we look out onto the trash bins. I think I see a shadow duck behind one of the big containers. Angel sees it too. He walks out into the circle of spot light. Bait. There is a hiss from our right and Granny clicks her way toward Angel. He turns and sees her and stands still. She stops and wags her head, swaying her long neck hypnotically. I remember that with this bunch, you have to watch your flank and I turn my attention to the trash bin. Sure enough, one of the red ones is inching out toward Angel from behind.

I yell, "Hold it, Baby. Stop right there." I aim the Uzzi at her. Granny stops, so does Red #1. Granny says, "We came for the chilllldruunnn. Give them to usssssss."

"Sod off," I say. "How'd you find us anyway?"

"An easy trail. Limo was easy to track. Slow it was and smelled of the childruuunnnn." Slow. The limo was going 25, maybe up to 35 in the sparse traffic this time of night on a Tuesday. I know Angel can do 50 when he thinks Poopsie (that's me) is in trouble. I know I can do it too when I think his marble behind may be on the line. And we outran them before. This time we need to settle this 'cause the kids are at stake and Miss C's evening is not gonna be ruined.

"They want to stay with us. That's it. You can't have them." says Angel laying it out nice and tactfully.

Gramma hisses. "Let them tell me."

"They're terrified of you. Besides, they're boys. What kind of life will half breed boys have with you?" She cocks her head at him. "They will breed when they are old enough. They will be chosen as mates by females and allowed to assist in the hunt. As long as they are healthy, life for them should be as nature ordained."

"Sorry, Granny," I say. Just doesn't sound like what we had in mind for them. Rag off. We want to finish our dinner." The third raptor drops from above right on top of me gouging her claw through my sleeve and knocking the Uzzi from my hands. Fortunately Killer Chef doesn't even blink, just plants the .38 against her head and pulls the trigger . Blam! raptor brains spray all over me. I scramble to my feet and pick up the Uzzi just as I see Grandmama make a jump for Angel. I let a round go and she screetches to a halt. #2 backs up behind the bin. I yell at Granny, "Get back you prehistoric pea hen." She snarls at me. I take a couple steps forward toward Angel. He spins around and looks toward the bin. We stand back to back. Granny snorts and says, "What do you want with the children? What use do males need with more males? There is only one female in your pack. I will speak with her. You are useless."

"I don't give a fuck what you want with these patrons of my restaurant," shouts the Chef. "Just get the fuck out of my place now or I'll blast you right here. No one comes in here and threatens my business." He aims the shotgun at Granny and starts counting "Ten, nine, eight, seven..." She starts backing up, out of the light. I look over my shoulder for #2. I see her eyes glitter from the shadows. I turn sideways and swing the Uzzi around toward her. She leaps. It happens fast. She opens her mouth wide and I see rows of sharp teeth. Her legs with those claws slam into Angel's chest, but he's ready and his fist smashes up and into her right where the wishbone comes together. She drops like a stone. The chef is running toward Granny who is snapping at him with her jaws, but who obviously doesn't like doing this alone. She finally turns and runs down the alley way. He lets a round loose after her. Don't think she's hit, but doubt she'll be back without reinforcements. We stand looking down at #2 on the ground. She doesn't move. Gingerly I feel for a pulse. Nothing. So, a smashed wishbone did the trick. That and a demon chef with a .38. We all look at each other. The chef takes the Uzzi from me and says, "Enjoy the rest of your meal. it's on me for the trouble." He steps over the two dead raptors and walks back into the building. We shrug at each other and follow. He doesn't look at us as he resumes work, so we go back out to the dining room and sit backdown at our table. Cordelia reaches across Angel and touches the torn sleeve of my duster. "Hey, Blondie, you all right? Need patching?" I shake my head. Angel explains what happened. Wesley is curious about the chef and decides to look him up when we get back, if Angel will draw a picture.

I drag the carrier out and release the kids again so they can have dessert. They are bouncing up and down around the centerpiece. Wesley shushes them. We speculate on whether Granny will be back. No way to tell really. Suddenly the waiters are around us. One of them has a cart with a covered with an embroidered cloth. He removes the cloth and under it is a cake unlike any I have ever seen. It outdoes Vienna and Paris and Rome together. It is a tan color mostly with translucent gold leaves lapped over it like a crust. The bottom is surrounded with chocolate curls and little lacy cookies shaped like cockle shells. The plate is white porcelain with a gold encrusted rim and under it are layers of chocolate leaves like the gold leaves that cover the frosting. Wow I think. I wonder where the 35 candles are. Guess they had the good taste to forget that part--or else Nabbit did. Glad about that am I.

One of the waiters lifts the cake out and places it in front of Cordelia. "Happy Birthday, Madam." he says. He offers her a silver cake knife. She takes it and grinning cuts the first piece. He takes the knife and the cake back to the cart and brings her the piece of cake on a solid gold (yes, I'm sure) plate. Then he cuts a piece for each of us and the waiters deliver them. He cuts a sixth piece and places it on a plate and lays it down in the middle of the table. Bugsy just sits and looks at him. Little Fellow says, "Tans," shyly. Got class this place does. I nod my thanks. He asks about coffee. We order everything from espresso to capaccino all around. The waiter nods and the others move off to get the cups and pots. The waiter looks at me and then at Gunn. "Ice cream with your cake, Sirs?" We nod simultaneously. "May I suggest either the chocolate almond or the green tea?"One of each, " I say. He leaves. How did the wanker know? Psychic. Maybe this is another bloody anagogic type place. God, what if we have to sing for our supper? Oh, wait, Chef said it was on him. Wow. Me with nothing to say.

The coffees come and then a dish of green tea and a dish of chocolate for each of us so we don't have to pass them across and share. Cordelia eats daintily. I've seen her shove a donut down faster than I can suck up a mug of O pos. But tonight she is all lady. Conversation buzzes around us. I look over at the next table. One of the diners, a guy with a black beard and glasses, is looking at us. I look back. His gaze is fearless. I wonder if I will have to turn away. His slender blonde wife leans over to him and I can just hear her say something to him about it not being polite to stare. He looks at her and says, "That man has a tear in his coat. A long tear. I wonder what did that?" She says, "Ask him. Just don't stare at him." The guy gets up and comes over. "Good evening,"he says. I can't help notice that you have a tear in the sleeve of your jacket and I am wondering how it happened. You didn't have it when you came in."

I feel Angel move at my side. He says, "No, he didn't have it when we came in. Bye the way, you know, they have feathers." The man just looks at Angel. Then he smiles."So I've been told. Would you accept my offer of an aperitif? Perhaps some after dinner conversation?" He looks down at the rug rats and tilts his head. To my amazement they are sparkling at this dark haired stranger.

"Hi, there, " he says to them. His wife, slightly taller than him, and elegant, looks over his shoulder. She smiles warmly.

Angel asks them if they would like to join us. They would. They do. Cordelia looks at them sleepily. I don't think she quite gets it. We all move around and make room for two more. Bugsy hops up on the woman's bare shoulder.

"How do you do?" she says, "My husband doesn't usually stare this rudely at people. Please forgive him. He gets focused and then forgets himself. "

"Of course we forgive him," says Angel. "May I introduce Miss Cordelia Chase?"
 
 

End.

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