Chapter 15. Blood Brothers.

Wesley considered the page in front of him again then turned to the documents Knox had handed him earlier. He leaned back in his chair and sighed.

"I'm no wiser," he said, looking up at the ceiling. "The crystals are here, in this building, somewhere. Why?"

Spike pushed himself away from the wall he'd been sent to lean against to smoke endless cigarettes and stop him interrupting the others while they worked. "Does it matter? Let's go get 'em."

"It's not that simple, Spike," said Angel. "If Wes is right, these are linked to The Old One in some way. We have to be . . . "

"What? Careful? Take a look at what's happening Angel." Spike gestured at Fred who was rocking herself, clutching Feigenbaum. "And we're another man down."

"Yes," said Wesley quietly. He didn't dare look at Fred. "Gunn was rather upset, wasn't he?"

"Gone right over the edge, more like," replied Spike. "You using the interface thingy to reveal the contents of the file from the other time line?" Spike raised an eyebrow.

Angel looked at Spike. On target – again, he thought. Can't have him upsetting Wes any more right now. "OK. That's it. Go see if you can track down the crystals. Take Knox."

"What?" Spike appealed to Angel. "Oh. No! Andrew was bad enough!"

Angel pushed the door open and gave Spike a little shove. "Take your time," he said smiling at Knox. "There's a lot more work to be done here. We'll be a lot faster without Spike cluttering the place up."

" I don't clutter," Spike protested.

Angel closed the door behind him.
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As they passed through the lobby, Spike spotted Gunn emerging from his office. His smart business suit, the badge of the successful lawyer, had been discarded in favour of a grey sweatshirt and jogging pants. Gunn looked completely drained, his head lowered, eyes refusing to meet those of Wolfram and Hart's busy employees who were going about their daily business as if he didn't exist.

Harmony's chirpy voice carried down the corridor from the reception desk where she was deep in conversation on the phone. "I'm sorry, Angel is in conference at the moment, Mr Jenoff. . . . How long? . . . For the foreseeable future. I could pencil you in for sometime next week . . ."

A group of lawyers emerged from the elevator.

" A deferral. Something about new evidence," said a slight young man carrying a sheaf of papers.

"Clutching at straws more like," replied his companion. "Jenoff isn't going to wait much longer before he takes direct action."

"I heard our golden boy lawyer is beginning to lose it. Happens to them all sooner or . . ." he stopped as he spotted Gunn walking towards them.

A demon with a mobile phone pressed to his ear pushed past Gunn who suddenly slumped onto the bottom step of the main staircase. "Sorry," muttered Gunn. "Sorry." He put his head in his hands and groaned.

Spike motioned Knox to continue on. He joined Gunn and the two of them sat silently side by side on the bottom step of the main staircase in the reception area. Gunn clasped his hands together and studied a point on the floor in front of them, while Spike watched the to-ings and fro-ings of Wolfram and Hart personnel going about their daily business.

"So how come it's just me and you out here twiddlin' our thumbs with nothin' to do, then, Chuck?" asked Spike.

"Guess it's because there's all that book work going on in Wes's office," replied Gunn glumly without looking up from the floor.

"Well, yeah, I can see how that rules me out, but not you. You could still be in there, puttin' in your twopence worth," said Spike.

"After Wes worked out that the second file on Connor wasn't blank after all, I kinda lost it again, you know? All he had to do was put the damn thing through that interface of his and suddenly – wham – there it was. Why couldn't I have thought of that?"

"You may not be firing on all cylinders," agreed Spike, "but then, neither's Fred."

"True," replied Gunn looking with concern down the corridor towards Wes' office. "She's phasing in and out a lot more isn't she?"

"Like a bloody telly that's not quite on station. And there's not a soddin' thing we can do about it. Can't give her a good thump now, can we?"

"Wes thinks the best thing we can do for her is let her rest. That's why Lorne's switching duties. He's gonna look after her in Angel's office, using it as his base for the time being. Seems the show must go on," replied Gunn bitterly. "While I've nothing to do except stare at that pile of paperwork in my office that's – piling up," he finished lamely.

Spike looked at him and thought for a moment. "I look at it this way, Charlie, I'm here, things need doing – important things. So I'm not gonna waste my time whinging about not being over in Europe, sunning myself, in Buffy's presence and fighting the good fight in la Bella Roma. At least there I'd get a shot of saving the girl every now and then."

Gunn shot him a small smile. "Angel keeping you on a tight rein still?"

"Too bloody right. And he knows I'm not one for much book research either. Leave all that to the Head Boy and His Mighty Broody self. S'pose as soon as they're finished, they'll fill us in with what we do next. Meantime, why don't you and I go and get a spot of action? I'm itchin' to do something. All this sittin' about's getting on my wick."

"I can't even get past the first sentence on any page in that pile in my office without using a dictionary, Spike. What do you suggest? I go and give it a good beating against the wall?"

Spike snorted. "You're not giving up that easily, Chuck. As it happens, I've got an assignment. Some crystals need finding. Can't guarantee they come with the girl."
"The summoning crystals?"

"That's the ones. Science Boy Lad's gone on ahead. Seems he knows a fella."

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Knox looked up from the microscope. "What took you?" he asked as Spike squinted over his shoulder at down through the eyepiece.

"Just stopped off for some back-up," said Spike. "What is this?"

"Nothing that need concern you," said a voice from behind him.

Spike whirled around at the sound of a slight gasp from Gunn.

"You! You promised," Gunn spat at the man who'd emerged from the inner-office door behind Spike.

"I told you, Mr Gunn. You have nothing to trade. The implant wasn't permanent." The scientist smiled, revealing an overly full set of teeth.

Gunn grasped the scientist's throat. "That wasn't made clear," he snarled.

"My, my, someone else who didn't read the small print carefully enough. And you a lawyer. You should know better."

"You two know each other?" asked Spike, pushing them apart.

Gunn backed away and leaned against the workbench. "This is the slimeball who gave me the implants – all the knowledge – the deductive reasoning."

"As I said, Mr . . .?" The scientist looked at Spike, who ignored his outstretched hand. "What Mr Gunn failed to realise was that those skills came with a price attached."

Spike sighed. Doesn't everything always?

"I knew that," said Gunn. "Hire not buy." He gave a hollow laugh and appealed to Spike. "Did we really think we could work from inside the belly of the Beast? We all gained something coming here."

"'Cept me. I didn't get squat – unless you count this sodding watch." He held it to his ear and then shook it. "Doesn't even tick," he grumbled, peering at it. "Time was watches let you know what they were up to."

"Time is not on our side," Knox reminded them. "We're here on a mission, not to help Gunn with his - problem." He sneered at Gunn who squared up to him, towering above his slight form.

Spike shook his head. "Now's not the time, Chuck. We came here for the crystals."

Gunn relaxed slightly and moved away from Knox, who breathed a small sigh of relief. "Yes, the crystals. We know where they are," he said smugly.

"We?" Spike asked.

"The Doctor and I share an interest in the Old Ones. He's an expert in the magical peripherals connected with burial and resurrection rights. Wolfram and Hart has a whole archive devoted to . . ."

"An archive?" asked Gunn. "Why didn't you tell Wesley earlier?"

"Because . . ." Knox groped for a reasonable excuse.

"Because he didn't know about it," concluded the Doctor. "I've only just told him."

Spike's eyes narrowed and he tilted his head to consider the two scientists. There was something about their interest in the Old Ones that made him uneasy but he couldn't quite put his finger on what it was. Something Knox had said earlier when they were with Fred in the Hyperion. He shook himself. Focus. Here for the crystals.

"So, how do we get them out of the archives?" Gunn broke the silence that had greeted the Doctor's words. "You got the password?" he asked Knox.

Knox paled. "Not exactly," he gulped. "There's a guardian – that must be challenged – you'll need weapons."

Spike sighed again. "Lead the way, Lad."

"Oh, we're not coming," said the Doctor, smiling again. "We're men of science. We leave the fighting to you hero-warrior types."

Spike growled softly.

"Just tell us what we need and where to go," said Gunn resignedly. He turned to Spike. "At least we know what we're doing with a fight, right?"
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The corridor security lights glowed dimly as Spike and Gunn made their way wearily back to Wesley's office. Both men were bruised and battered and covered in a sticky green sludge.

"Slime. I hate slime. Why'd it have to be slime?" grumbled Spike.

"Aw, c'mon, Bro'. Don't tell me you didn't enjoy that little tussle?" beamed Gunn slapping him on the shoulder. "Give me a Kelubar  to fight and I can forget all about . . ." His voice trailed off suddenly. " . . . For a while."

"Yeah. OK. 'S'pose it was fun. I just don't want Brood Boy whinging on about the state we're getting' the floors in." Spike stopped and considered the closed door. "How long they been in there? D'you think they've finished?"

The door to Wesley's office opened and Angel came out, calling across the corridor to them. "You got them?"

Spike held up a small canvas pouch and nodded, bracing himself for complaints about the slime.

Angel swept past without looking at them. "We're ready then. De-briefing. More work to do. My office, in five."

"Better not be reconnaissance again," Spike grumbled softly.

"You think we got time for a shower?" asked Gunn wiping a glob of slime from his sweatshirt.

"Prob'ly not," replied Spike looking down at his own clothes. "Better change though. Least I didn't wear the duster. Slime's a bugger to get out of the leather."

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"No! Not Connor. I'm not losing him again!" Angel rose from his seat and strode over to the window where Connor stood gazing at the LA night skyline.

"You haven't been listening, have you Gramps? The summoning spell needs family blood. It doesn't have to be Connor's, mine'll do. That right Wes?" asked Spike, joining Angel and Connor.

"I hadn't quite finished what I was saying," replied Wesley. "Blood will flow in both time lines. In this one, to restore us back to our proper place in time. In that one, to fulfil our destinies. Blood must flow." Wesley looked up from his papers and across at Spike, then at the others who'd gathered in the Angel's office to hear the results of the previous night's research and the day's work with Angel and Connor. "Family blood, the blood of kinship, clan and brotherhood, willingly shed. But it must be the blood of an Innocent."

"Guess that rules me out then," said Spike.

"And me."

All eyes turned to Connor in surprise.

"I got my memories back, remember?" he said quietly, his eyes fixed on Angel.

"Connor is perfectly correct. It isn't him," said Wesley. "It's . . ."

"It's Fred, isn't it?" finished Gunn. "She's the only one who didn't get anything personal out of coming here."

"I believe so," replied Wesley, his face softening as he looked over to where she lay sleeping fitfully on the couch. "She's the only one who remained innocent of any knowledge of Connor's earlier life. And, as Gunn so rightly pointed out, she's the only one who didn't benefit personally from our coming to Wolfram and Hart. She remained faithful to the mission. She came here to help others – starting with Cordelia."

"No! Not Fred!" cried Lorne.

"I'm not losing another member of this family - not after Cordy," Angel added solemnly.

"We won't lose her," said Wesley. "The Summoning requires only a drop of her blood."

Spike frowned. "Sounds too easy. Spell like this, there's gotta be a bigger price."

"Spike's right. Even if we do summon this Old One, are you certain she can help us?" Angel returned to the desk and looked at the book Wesley had opened.

"I believe so, if what Knox has unearthed about her proves accurate. She has the power to alter time and to move through dimensions," replied Wesley.

"Can – but why would she?"

"Because by restoring us to our proper place in time, she guarantees her own existence," explained Wesley patiently. "According to the prophecy, our destiny is fulfilled when the Old One arises. Her destiny is linked to ours."

"And there's no sign of her in this time line," said Gunn.

"Correct. Connor should not have arrived at Wolfram and Hart until after the Old One." Wesley picked up the book Angel was studying and opened it at an illustration showing a multi-armed creature. "This is the Old One, Illyria. She was killed millions of years ago and placed in a sarcophagus in the Deeper Well. Knox's research indicates that she planned her resurrection and return to her kingdom through the Temple of Valahanash."

Spike looked closely at the illustration. "She's a cutie isn't she? A right little Kali. Think we'd've noticed her by the photocopier."

Angel leaned on the desk and thought for a moment. He looked over to where Lorne sat on the edge of Fred's couch. "OK, so the summoning won't harm Fred, but Lorne will get hurt again if he reads Ethan. Why does he need to do that?"

Wesley sighed deeply. "Believe me, Angel, if there were an easier way, I wouldn't ask him to do it. Illyria may be the key to our return, but we need to know the precise moment that Ethan's actions interfered with your destiny."

"Hang on," interrupted Spike. "Why do we need to go down the wormhole of time with this Illyria bint at all? Once she's unpacked her bags and settled in, who's to say everybody can't fulfil their destinies here?"

Wesley looked across at Fred who appeared to be sleeping more peacefully.

Spike followed his gaze and gave a slight nod. "Right. Fred."

"We would lose her if we stayed here, I'm sure of it," said Wesley gravely.

Spike furrowed his brows. "So we need to take the time trip with the Old One. Still doesn't explain why Lorne has to read Ethan. We could get the info we need as easy as anything. Just leave him with Harmony a couple o' more hours, he'll be beggin' to tell us."

"You wouldn't get the double feature, Slim," said Lorne. As long as there are two time lines, I'm reading two futures."

"Which is theoretically impossible," said Fred, sitting up suddenly.

"Only as much as the Old One is," agreed Wesley, moving swiftly to her side.

"I thought you were supposed to be catching up on some sleep, not dealing with theories," said Angel squatting down beside her.

"I don't want to sleep. I keep having nightmares," said Fred, shakily, getting to her feet. She shivered and looked up at the five anxious faces gathered around the couch. "What's wrong? I'm not sick, am I?" she appealed to Wesley.

"No, you're not," he said gently. "But the sooner we get you back to where we all belong, the better."

"What else do we need? " asked Angel.

"When we're sure we're ready, Knox will bring what we need for the Summoning to the Training Room. Everyone else can watch from the viewing gallery.

"Good idea. Who do you need?"

"Knox for one. His knowledge of Illyria is far superior to mine. He had no trouble finding what we wanted last night when he helped me finish the research after Fred left. It was evident that he's been interested in the Old Ones, and Illyria in particular, for some time. "

"A long time, I'd say," said Gunn. "He knew all about the crystals."

Wesley consulted his papers again. "Ethan should be there, I think. Illyria must see him, so that she can identify who it is she must eliminate. And Fred," Wesley looked up and stared directly into her eyes, "the spell calls for innocent blood, willingly shed. I believe it's yours that's needed."

Fred moved closer to him. She clutched his arm. "Do you really think so? How much do you need?"

"Not a lot. I need only a drop - just a pin-prick really."

"Like Sleeping Beauty," said Spike smiling at her.

"Then the handsome prince will save me again,"

whispered Fred gazing into Wesley's eyes.

"Yes," he said softly. "And wake you with a kiss."

"Oh," said Spike breathing in suddenly. So that's who I got the brush-off for.

Angel cleared his throat noisily. "Wes, before all that, what about Ethan? Harmony has him in the small reception room, fed and watered and ready to perform."

"Then I guess I'm up first," grimaced Lorne. He took a deep breath and walked slowly to the door. "I suppose it could be worse," he said between gritted teeth.

"How's that?" asked Spike.

He's doing 'Strange Brew'. It could have been 'Tales of Brave Ulysses'."

Spike grinned and raised an eyebrow. "Never knew he and Giles had so much in common."

"Spike!" Angel called, "Go with Lorne. Make sure Ethan's behaving himself. We're gonna have to . . ." he motioned towards Fred with his head.

Spike and Lorne looked to where Wesley sat holding Fred who was sleeping again, her head resting on his chest. Spike nodded and followed Lorne out of the door, closing it quietly behind them.