Hell-A, Part 6

By Mice

"Andrew, is that a black veil on your head?"

Andrew peered at Wesley from underneath the piece of sheer black material. "I assure you, Mr. Wyndham-Pryce, it's a very stylish piece of haberdashery for a man. It's a fedorna."

"A fedorna?"

"It's a fedora with a veil on it. A manly veil!" Andrew took it off to show him. "Kanye West has one."

Wesley made no attempt to touch the fedorna. "Why are you wearing it?"

Andrew sighed sadly. "Because today is the day Mr. Drake signs…that contract."

'That contract' was code for "The Californian PartnersS at Work Protection Agreement" act, or…

"The C-PAWPA?"

"We don't call it that in accounting. " Andrew motioned over to Carlos Francisco's desk where a woman was yelling at him, demanding to know who else was calling him by her secret nickname.

Wesley slowly averted his eyes and focused back on Andrew. "You don't really believe that the girl is really Elisabeth Braddock?"

Andrew's eyes darkened. "I don't know about that, Mr. Wyndham-Pryce, but there's no way that Mr. Drake is married to her."

Bobby waited nervously by Charles Gunn's office. Jubilee paced around, looking at him angrily.

"I should have known you would have ruined things for me and Wesley! All I did was come out here to help you – help my FRIEND – my NON-HUSBAND – and I fell in love. Did you help me? No. Did you support me? No. Did you somehow go back in time to marry me? YES!"

Forced to take a breath, Bobby took advantage of Jubilee's silence. "I never said you had to go by the alias "Betsy Braddock". That was your doing. And I didn't marry you. Apparently, that was Hank's doing. He and Kitty posted an A/P item that got picked up."

"You told Hank my alias? Bobby, Psylocke can kick my ass if she learns I've been posing as hers!"

Bobby paused. "No. I didn't."

"So why did he post that article using Betsy's name?"

He was a skilled accountant. A graduate of Dartmouth. He did the math so quickly that when he went to bury his face in his hands, they missed them completely. "Pixie, that article smacks of one of my stupid tangents, right down to Charlton Heston marrying us. She's not going to blame Hank or Kitty – not even you." He turned to look at her, his face pale. "She's not going to kick your ass, she's going to kick mine."

"You bet she's gerna kick 'er bloody blimey arse!"

It was Jubilee's turn to go pale. "The other Betsy! The skinny armed one!"

Buffy marched furiously towards Jubilee. "I'm 'ere to sign a love contract with me husband today – what do ye think yer doin' 'ere, ye imposter?"

Jubilee opened her mouth. Jubilee closed her mouth. Then Jubilee ran.

Angel sat with the two Elizabeth Braddocks in front of him. Both with cat scratched faces. Bobby Drake was toward the back, head hung low. Charles Gunn stood between the two with a hand on their nearest shoulder.

"Bigamy?" Angel asked.

"Right now, the C-PAWPA doesn't cover for the clause of their being two women claiming to be the same one, so as it stands, our head of accounting is currently a bigamist."

"And that's a bad thing?"

"Well, that's where California law and Wolfram & Hart's employee handbook differ. If Mr. Drake was Mormon, he would be up for immediate dismissal."

"Because certain sects of Mormonism accept having more than one wife?"

"No, just because he's Mormon. Wolfram & Hart will tolerate much, but not magic underwear."

Angel looked to Bobby. "Are you Mormon?"

"Irish-Catholic, recovering."

Angel smiled small. "Me, too."

Gunn cleared his throat. "Since Drake isn't Mormon, and one of his claimed wives is a vampire slayer put under some kind of amnesiac trance by his other wife…his bigamy entitles him to a bonus."

"Bonus?" Bobby stood dumbly. He had worked in accounting before, done a good job. Been an X-Men for a long time. He had screwed up plenty. This was the first time that any of those traits and circumstances had gotten him a bonus. Bonus, the bonus happened because of all three. There was only one thing he could do.

Victory lap.

"You're going to have to wait, Miss. Mr. Drake is in a meeting."

"Understood, but it is quite urgent that I speak to him at once." The woman at Andrew's desk stood perfectly still with magnificent poise. Andrew didn't like it one bit.

"Mr. Drake is a very busy man and is very much I demand. I am going to have to insist that if you need to see him, you either make an appointment like everybody else or sit and wait in one of those chairs."

The woman was silent for a moment. She was an extraordinarily beautiful woman. As such, she wasn't quite sure why she was being told to wait. She could fix that easily. All she had to do was –

"Andrew, do you know where Gunn is? I think I found out some new information on our Betsy Braddock." Wesley put a folder down on Andrews desk. He had practically ran there from his office. It was a lucky break and normally, he wasn't the tech genius – that was all Fred. But this time, he came through. He felt so like beaming that he didn't notice the beautiful woman at Andrew's desk. "I'm terribly sorry, I didn't mean to break in. I hope you'll forgive me, Miss Braddock."

Wesley continued to almost glow with a job well done when he and Andrew locked eyes and connected their thoughts for a split second with what Wesley said. Wesley slowly allowed himself to turn to the woman again. Tall, creamy skinned with dyed purple hair with eyes to match. A smile that was too beautiful to call smug. There was no doubt to Wesley that this was the woman whose poster hung above his bed at boarding school. "Truly, you are the one true Elisabeth Braddock." With all the confusion of the recent days, Wesley genuflected.

Andrew's face struck lightening. "You realize what this means, Mr. Wyndham-Pryce? The rumors of Asian plastic surgery were false!"

Wesley nearly lunged at Andrew, but Betsy spoke up. "No, they were true." She turned to Wesley, smiling to put him at ease. "I got better."

Wesley almost had to pinch himself. Tech wizardry. The problems with Drake about to be a thing of history. And now, Elisabeth Braddock. There was only one thing he could do.

Victory lap.

Running with the feet of a dancer from the left wing of Wolfram & Hart to the reception area was Bobby Drake – in his hand, a flagpole with the American flag affixed to it. His voice sang out, "I did something right!

Running with a braggart's swagger from the right wing of Wolfram & Hart to the reception area was Wesley Wyndham-Pryce – in his hand, a flagpole with the Union Jack affixed to it. His voice sang out, "The real Elisabeth Braddock is here!"

They met in the middle. They stopped for a brief second as their eyes connected. There was only one thing they could do.

Fist bump.

Angel turned away from watching Wesley and Bobby and focused his attentions to Elizabeth Braddock – the one, true Elizabeth Braddock – who stood gorgeously to his left, the two claimants to the title to the back of him, and Gunn to the right along, "So, if Drake is married to three Elizabeth Braddock's…what does that get him?"

"I don't know – I think we have to create something even more special than the Flip camcorder he was going to get as a bonus…"

"Oo iz she? Where's me mummy? Oi wanna watch Eastenders! Why are Katie Price and Peter Andrew divorcin'? Just yoo wait, 'enry 'iggins!" Buffy the Betsy whined.

There was only one thing the real Elizabeth could do.

Elizabeth turned around wordlessly and brought a fist to Buffy the Betsy's head. Instead of hitting her, it paused right before physical contact was made, but not before mental contact.

"Ow."

Angel went over to the now slumped over Buffy the Betsy and held her in his arms.

"What did you do to her?" Gunn asked, not understanding what was going on.

"Betsy?" Angel said while stroking Buffy the Betsy's cheek.

Her eyelids fluttered and she brought a hand to her forehead. "Why are you calling be Betsy? And why does my head feel like it's filled with liquid needles of pointy, pointy death?"

Elizabeth smiled. "You'll be fine, Buffy. You're in pain because I went inside your brain, turned off the part of you that thought you were me and made you back into you. And because you clearly have no idea how to do a proper British accent."

"You went inside her brain?"

"Yes, Mr. Gunn. I am a mutant gifted with telepathic powers. Jubilation – the other claimant to the name of Elizabeth Braddock – is also a mutant."

Jubilee made a "whoop-di-doo" circle in the air with her right index finger; a series of small firecracker pops and whistles with brilliant flashes of yellow and blue outlining the air pattern.

Angel became annoyed. "And Drake, too, right?"

Elizabeth nodded. "Warren Worthington sent he and Jubilation here to see what sort of an investment this was. He didn't know if you or the company was trustworthy enough to keep in his portfolio. "

"Is Drake even an accountant?"

"Despite that gallon of Gatorade he is currently pouring over his head, Bobby is certified. That's one of the reasons why I'm here. He's my accountant and he hasn't had time to do my taxes yet." Elizabeth shook her head sadly. "Not only am I a British citizen filing American taxes, I came back from the dead this year. I don't know if I have to pay an Estate Tax on myself. It's April 15th and I only have a couple of hours left before it's too late."

Just then, out of breath and fedorna still on, Andrew stopped running and put a hand on Angel's shoulder to steady himself.

"What's your victory lap about, Andrew?"

"Not—a—victory lap. Ran here—reporting—for duty. The accounting department—gone!"

"Gone? Like they all went to lunch or…?"

"No. People—C Papa—desks—walls—gone!"

"Carlos is gone?" Angel shook his head. "This doesn't make sense. We just had people disappearing, not an entire physical area!"

The building rumbled. The PA system clicked on and a voice boomed, "THE TIME HAS COME FOR THE ASCENSION OF TSAXTHOUGGA!"

Everyone stood in stunned silence.

Except Gunn.

"You went inside her brain?"

To be concluded…