Title: Together Again Author: SunnyD_Lite Spoilers: Follows 'Tangled Webs' which has spoilers to Shells, then goes on its merry way. Rating: PG but there is Spike language – you have been warned. Disclaimer: Joss, ME, Sanddollar, and other corporate types own every conceivable copyright and interest in the characters. They stopped playing with them, so I thought I would. No profit, no foul, right guys? A/N: First off, hugs and doughnuts to my betas Pattyanne and Desota_hia_873. They made sure my ideas resembled sense. This piece will make more sense if you've read Tangled Webs, now on the sandlot. A quick summary: After Fred's transformation the team crumbles. Spike, in speaking with each of them, discovers that there are missing memories. Angel is isolated, working on a corporate strategic plan. Illyria watches videos with Spike and goes shopping with Harmony and a corporate credit card. The boys figure out a spell to retrieve the memories and Gunn lawyer talks the Senior Partners, or their representatives, into restoring Fred and letting the team quit the firm, without harming Connor. They go back to the hotel and there, gentle readers, we pick up the story. Feedback: Yup Yup love the stuff. Really. Chapter Two Spike saw Angel fall, and quickly glared at the person at the door. Smelt human and no prickly sensation like he felt around magic users, so the attack probably didn't come from that quarter. Picking up Angel's dropped wallet, he proceeded to pay the boy giving him a decent tip; it WAS Angel's money. Laden with the bags of food he stepped around Angel and asked him, off-handedly, "Alright there?" Angel just groaned, holding his head in his hands like someone experiencing his first hangover. Then he jerked up and said "Alley off Smith Street, green demon with orange spots, cornering a group of seniors." After this declaration, he collapsed on the floor. "Wot was that about, then?" Spike raised his eyebrow at the rest of the group; pleased to see he wasn't the only one perplexed by this pronouncement. Wesley looked into the distance then said, "No, it couldn't be…could it? It might make sense..." Long known for his patience, Spike cut in, "Watcher, do you have a point or not, the chow mein's getting cold and what demons have orange spots? Bleeding poor camouflage if you ask me." "Hmmm...oh, orange spots that would be a Jargik demon. But they are normally passive and prefer to remain underground. But I'm thinking that this seems..." "A lot like Cordy's visions?" This time the interjection came from Gunn. "That's what I was saying," huffed Wesley. "That may have been what you were trying to say, but Charlie-boy beat you to the punch. What was up with those visions anyway? Didn't hear tell of it in good ole Sunnydale, and that Lindsay bloke was faking them, oh and who wanted the General Tso's chicken?" Spike began handing out the food, as Angel still lay sprawled on the floor. He did spare a look back at his grandsire and asked, "You weren't interested in any of the Hunan Beef, were you Peaches?" As the only reply was a moan, Spike responded, "Thought not. More for me then. Oh good, they put extra hot chilies!" Fred looked torn between Angel and the Moo Goo pork in front of her. "Should we help him?" "Vamp healing does best on its own, luv. Though if there's some blood in this place, it might help. The scent of proper blood's like smelling salts to a vamp." "And THAT's really an image I wanted with my dinner," quipped Lorne. "Are you sure there's nothing we can do for him? His moans aren't what I'd call dinner music." "Oh, you'd be surprised what makes decent dinner music. Back in the day..." "Spike, is this going to be one of those blood and guts stories? If so, could we save it for drinks after the feed?" Gunn just shook his head at the blonde vamp. "Fine and dandy, don't want to upset you lots' delicate sensibilities then. Who has the chicken balls?" Fred suddenly got up and grabbed an extra pillow from the sofa. She placed it under Angel's head and then proceeded to find paper and pen and began writing something down. "What are you up to, pet?" "Capturing the vision, writing down what he said. Do you think we should act on it?" "Cordy's visions often gave us time to decipher them. He might be able to tell us more when he wakes up." Wes replied. Spike felt something was a little off. This didn't feel like "Avengers Unite" or any other call to arms. He was betting that despite the big group hug, the team still felt betrayed by Angel's actions. He shrugged at the thought. Oh well... A scraping noise drew Spike's attention to his grandsire. Angel was beginning to sit up, very, very, slowly. He still had his head between his hands, but it looked like he was ready to say something. "Tylenol...extra strength...NOW. Ouch". It appeared that speaking loudly was still on the 'do later' list. Fred scurried off somewhere, presumable to find headache medicine. Wesley calmly asked, between mouthfuls of Singapore Noodles, "Do you remember anything else from the vision?" "I had a vision?" was Angel's less then accepting reply. "I don't remember." "Well that's not going to help us a lot, now is it?" There was the cold steel of disdain in Wesley's voice. Having met the cyber-dad, Spike was betting it was a tone that Wesley had been on the receiving end of many times. He'd honed it well. Gunn suddenly spoke up, "Smith Street--there's a big Bingo Hall there. Given that seniors were mentioned, do you think that's it? And why would this Jargik demon want to rustle up Bingo playing seniors?" Wes nodded and said, "A good question, I guess this means-" And this time they all chimed in "Research". After he'd helped Angel up the stairs to a room, assistance he wouldn't let his grand-sire forget in, well, ever, he nipped out for a moment. He'd left Fred to play Florence Nightingale, but as he said the only thing a vamp needed was rest. Rest and blood. When he returned stealthily to the lobby- no point in broadcasting his good deed, since it had been Angel's money again - it seemed like the research was going slowly. The books were out but the energy was ebbing. Lorne dropped his book and said, "Are you sure it's a Jargik demon you're thinking of there, teacake?" He looked baffled. "I know that there's a hive of them in the sewers but they're like the Woody Harrelson of the demon world. Herbivores and 'light footprints', all eco friendly types. They're disgusted by humans and tend to avoid them at all costs." "And they're living in LA? Why? For the air?" Snarkiness, like any art form, requires practice and Spike couldn't let a line like that one go wanting. "Well, they were here first. I guess they just kept hoping humans would go away, dumpling," Lorne replied. "You take that back, I am not a dumpling. I am a nummy treat." Oh lord, thought Spike, I'm channeling Harris. Need a fight or something to clear the brain. Voicing his opinion he said, "So are we going to shake it up or just flip through a night of a thousand pages here at librarian central? No wonder you watchers hid out as bibliophiles." "I'm up for some action -- of the muscle kind. I can't believe how comfortable I got in those suits. And I'm thinking my golf swing had to improve the demon hurting skills." Gunn mimicked his swing as he said this. "You took up golf? I thought they implanted info, not that they nancified you." "Spike, it's a civilized game, but I'm sure it will put extra power in my ax swing. Anyway, who's for an expedition to Smith Street?" "We should probably check to see if Angel remembers anything else, now that he's had a chance to rest." Wesley's lack of concern would have been chilling if Spike hadn't seen it before. Still disturbed him, considering that they were a team. Damn, from nursemaid to peacekeeper. Oh well, what's a souled vamp to do? "I'll check with Fred to see if 'best beloved' has any new insights to share on this whole vision thing. Funny though...the visions affected Dru but not like this. And why is it a skill he's picked up now? I'll leave those questions to you researching fools, then shall I?" And with that Spike headed up to Angel's old room. tbc /