Title: Happily Ever Afterlife
Author: MissMaxime
Rating: NC17/M
Category: Humor, Angst, Porn with Plot, Violence, Character death, Character undeath, mentions of inexcusable popsongs.
Content: Lilah/Wesley, and some other insignificant pairings for plot purpose like Fred/Knox or something.
Summary: So what if Lilah had been part of Season 5? She would have strutted into the place on her high heels, being the undead queen of snark and giving Team Angel a hard time. And seducing Wesley, of course. Wesley/Lilah
Spoilers: Maybe slightly for 'After the Fall', but nothing other than canon up till Season 5.
Disclaimer: The characters in the Angelverse were created by Joss Whedon & David Greenwalt. No infringement is intended, no profit is made. And I totally copied this thing from .
Distribution: Anywhere. Just let me know.
#1 I was so sad that Lilah did not return for Season 5. There was so much potential! I always felt like when Lilah died, a part of AtS died that we never got back. So here's my view. And lots of secks.
#2 So my intentions were to write something short on this. But I ended up with about 18500 words. Ah, well. More Weslah for everyone!

"Much like any creature attached to an object owned by Wolfram & Hart, she is forced to stay within certain premises. Only in her case, it was a few floors down." Angel, Spike and Gunn were watching Lilah from a distance as she carried a typical cardboard box to the desk outside Wesley's office. Angel and Gunn eyed Spike after Wes had finished his remark about the situation.

"I saved the world and got caught in a necklace. What's her bloody excuse?" Spike exclaimed. The Fang Gang had brought Spike up to date about the history they have had with Lilah, so he had filed her under 'evil'.

Gunn cleared his throat. "Short story short: She made our lives a living hell whilst working for Wolfram & Hart as an evil lawyer, and then helped us save the world from eternal damnation. Until she was killed by a higher power who had taken over Cordelia's body. But her contract goes beyond death."

"And she's here because…?" Spike intervened.

"She appealed," Gunn explained. "Claiming that she had put a stop to world peace. They went for it, so she was promoted to the world of the living. But she's still dead. And it's a good way for Wolfram & Hart to keep a little more tabs on us, because she knows a lot about us."

"She does…" Angel mused, not only remembering her intrusion into their lives, but also her personal relationships.

"So who's gonna tell English about his new secretary?" Spike said.

"Did you like the pen?" Lilah asked. "I engraved it myself. That was the day in Hell I was forced to sit through a psycho-therapeutic Arts & Crafts class taught by one of those sad hippies I used to mock at the convenient store. I'm not going into details, but it was fairly horrifying. But then again: Hell. Not really designed to please its visitors."

"They have Arts & Crafts class in Hell?" Wesley asked, still trying to comprehend the fact that she was actually standing in front of him.

Lilah snorted. "That was one of the better days. They do remember that I gave up my life to prevent world peace from happening." She rolled her eyes and bit her lip while she cracked a smile. "Which is most likely the reason I'm up here again with you do-gooders. Although, Evil Bitch aiding the white hats. Still Hell!" she said, much too cheerful for his taste.

In the meantime, Wesley had sorted his thoughts on the matter, and composed his posture. "We're not all 'white' hats, Lilah," he spoke deliberately, "some of us still have a dash of grey." He saw the breath caught in her throat, if that was at all possibly in her decapitated position, and her eyes widened momentarily in shock before she calmed herself.

"You remember," she said, but she obviously wasn't up to speed with her thoughts already.

"I do," he retorted quickly, trying not to show too much emotion, he needed her to stay with him on a logical level of thinking, or he'd never find out. "What I don't remember is 'why'."

Lilah dropped her eyes to the clipboard in her hands and started taking notes. "Wesley," she said, in a monotone type of voice, "I may have been granted access to the top floors of Wolfram & Hart, but I have no authorisation to share secret information with my new boss. It's against company policy," she said, not taking her eyes off the paper. "But if you need any help with your research, or a letter send to another department, I will be just outside your office," she finished with a smile, as she turned the clipboard around.

'Broomcloset. 6th floor. One hour.'

He nodded curtly as he understood. "Alright L- Miss Morgan. I'll notify you when I'm in need of your aid or services. Now if you excuse me?"

"You got it, boss," she responded, and he noticed her Harmony-imitation. But he could see the turmoil of emotions in her eyes. He watched her turn on her feet and exit the room swiftly. Giving him one last meaningful look before she closed the door.

This is going to be Hell, he thought.

"What did you do?"

Wesley turned around, cup of water at his lips before he could take a sip. Gunn was standing a few feet away, one of his eyebrows raised at one of his best friends, a concerned look spread across his face before he started laughing. "I mean, you must have pissed them off a great deal to get the Bitchqueen from Hell to do your paperwork."

He doesn't remember.Wesley smiled quietly at his friend. "I'm not sure," he mused, as he searched his mind for a fitting answer. "Must be something I might be doing in the future. You know the Senior Partners: Always trying to keep tabs on their questionable employees. I wouldn't be surprised if they promoted a few more of our former acquaintances in our departments."

Gunn overthought what Wesley had just said. "You know, I think you're right. They've installed a new head of real estate law a few days ago. Gavin Park, rings a bell, doesn't it? I thought he smelled a bit funny. But I suppose being eaten by zombies kind of does that to you. But his brain seems to be functioning all right. Department has never been better since we moved in."

Now Wesley was beginning to doubt Lilah's motives. His made-up excuse for Lilah being his new Personal Assistant was starting to make too much sense to him. "We should be careful around them-," he started saying, before he was interrupted by Harmony's high-pitched squeals of joy.

"Oooh! Are we having small talk at the water cooler?!" she blurted out, whilst clapping in her hands excitedly. "You know, I always thought it was a good idea, putting this thing in the hallway. It's a great way to meet new people and get to know the people you already know!"

"Speaking of evil dead colleagues," Wesley sighed, and gulped the water down, if only to avoid further conversation.

Gunn rolled his eyes, annoyed by the blonde's sudden interference. "Well, I have a three o'clock meeting. Got to run. We'll talk later?" he asked a question, but spoke more matter-a-factly.

"Me as well," Wesley retorted, and nodded curtly at Gunn. "Have fun, ehr, meeting new people Harmony," he said, and started to make his way towards the elevator.

Harmony pouted and sighed dramatically. "All right, pals! I'll just," she started, as Gunn went around the corner, and Wesley stepped into the elevator, "finish my drink. Alone," she added, a little disappointed. She was going to have to have a serious conversation with Angel about mandatory watercooler-time.

'Sixth floor: Storage. Status: Being organised, enter at own risk.'

Well, that couldn't predict a lot of good, he thought to himself. The loud 'ping' of the elevator doors opening tore him from his thoughts. Unlike most floors he had seen so far, this was probably the furthest away from the blueprint of the look of Wolfram & Hart. Whereas everything else in the building was clear, organised and almost hospital-like this floor was close to resembling the battered look of the Hyperion.

He carefully stepped out of the elevator as he observed his new surrounding: a dark beige carpet covering all floors, walls covered in a faded light blue, the wallpaper curling off them at a few spots and the dim lights which oddly gave him a pretty far sight down the three visible hallways. "Where am I?" he muttered under his breath. And how did I not know about its existence, he wondered.

"This," he heard a familiar female voice behind him and he turned around to face her, "is your head," she smiled. "Neat little trick, huh? Nicely organised in 'Memories', 'Knowledge'," she said, as if she was a very enthusiastic trip advisor pointing out the must-see-locations, but he could see that she was holding up a mask. "But you haven't seen the best part," she said, and reached out for his hand to pull him along.

They stilled in their movement at this first touch in months. Their eyes locked as Wesley felt a familiar tingle in his chest, but it was too repressed to really flow through his veins yet. He could see it sparked something in her as well, but she was either too proud to show any of it, or too afraid that anyone was still watching. "C-come," she said, and started pulling him with her to a room marked 'Maintenance'.

"Wait," he said, and stopped her in her tracks by holding onto her hand and staying in place. She spun around to face him, with a puzzled look gracing her face. "If this is my recollection of thoughts. How did you get in here?"

She smiled apologetic. "I might belong here, lover," she remarked. "It'll become clear soon enough…" she said with that annoying mysterious tone of voice. Even in death, she still had to fulfil the need of running the show. So he let her open the door she had intended them to enter and watched as she closed it behind them quickly.

He glanced around the small cubicle in one swift motion: It was clean, neat and organised inside. Not the broom closet he was expecting. "Why is this-"

"—designed like an OR?" Lilah finished his sentence. "Because this part of your head isn't yours," she said, with a confidence that told him that they could finally speak freely. "Not anymore. It was part of the deal Wolfram & Hart made with Angel: that you wouldn't remember this."

"This?" Wesley asked, as he noticed her starting up several monitors that were placed into the wall.

She smirked while she extracted a large circular container from her suitcase. "Didn't you ever wonder why there are so much gaps in your memory from the past two years or so? Why Darla returned to Los Angeles. How come Angel had sunken to the bottom of the sea. Cordelia being impregnated with the spawn of evil. Or good. Just a case of perception, I suppose," she mused, being side-tracked. "But also: The reason behind why you betrayed Angel and our star-crossed love was set into motion," she said it with such a superficial tone that Wesley couldn't help but suspect that she cared. In a way, they were quite similar after all.

He did wonder, he had wondered about that since… "The pen," he said, extracting it from his pocket. "You made me remember." It wasn't an accusing tone of voice, rather one of amazement and unbelief.

"Well, you did try to prevent me from a fate of eternal damnation. It's the least I could do in return," she replied. Meanwhile she inserted the circular object into an identical shaped hole in the wall. Not really willing to go on about the subject any further, she typed the codes to fire up the program.

Wesley had approached her from behind and pulled her up to her feet. "Although. In case your plan doesn't work. We should try all options for my memory to return to me," he said, and crashed his lips onto hers, invading her mouth as if it were the first time he kissed her, exploring the curves of her lips with his own. He pulled back after a few seconds, unsure if she even remembered by her lack of initiative. That was, until he felt her hand entangling in his hair and pulling him back into her, kissing him with such passion like no one had done before her.

Only someone had, he recoiled as memories started to flood his mind. Pieces of the puzzle were starting to come back to him: 'Darla giving birth to Angel's son, the prophecy, his betrayal, the summer he spend with Lilah,' he freeze-framed there for a few seconds, as details of that experience invaded his brain, 'Cordelia and Connor, Connor holding people hostage, the day they were offered Wolfram & Hart…' It was too much, but the soothing calm of being with Lilah made the whole experience a lot more bearable.

"And?" Lilah asked hopefully, and a little out of breath, as she pulled away.

"I think," he mused, with a mischievous look in his eyes, "I need a little more to go on."

He pushed her against the file cabinet, his greyer side coming through more and more, for the sweet torture of her uncomfortable position enhanced her arousal more. His hands roamed her body, caressing her curves as if he was exploring her for the first time. He struggled with the clasp of her pants, tearing them open roughly. This hadn't been the first time they had been in this position… he recalled. So he kissed her jaw and trailed the sharp lines of her neck with his mouth, her moans of pleasure encouraging him to go on with his journey.

He pushed her blazer down her shoulders as he continued his trail of kisses down her neck until he reached her breasts. Which wasn't unfamiliar territory as well. Memories of their first encounter came back to him: Lilah visiting him at his apartment, offering him a position at Wolfram & Hart, and not much later; their first sexual encounter, after they drank a whole bottle of scotch at some bar at the bad side of town. It had been a way for him to feel some warmth and intimacy with a peer, regardless of the sides they fought for. Their own grey kingdom. And it had been perfect.

Her frustrated groans brought him back to reality. With care he had started to unbutton her shirt, exposing her purple lace bra to him. "Well, those are my favourites," he remarked rather unbiased, as he caressed her nipples through the fabric. Without effort, he pushed her shirt down her shoulders, leaving her clad only in her bra and pants before him.

"Favourites?" she moaned. "Who says I'm wearing a pair?"

Judging by the damp slacks, he felt as he massaged her cunt trough her trousers, she wasn't. "I can't wait to find out," he murmured against her belly, as he worked the zipper with his skilled hands. He pushed them down with force, unable to strain his wanting for her.

"You, oooh," she said, as Wesley reached her nether regions. He trailed his tongue down her folds, intoxicating himself on her juices, for she was already ready for him. "You," she said, regaining the ability to speak, "you need to take some more action," she smirked, but unable to see for him.

He stood up and she started to fumble with his buckle instantly. It was a relief for him, he was already painfully straining against his pants. He closed his eyes when she pulled everything down in one motion, her lust overpowering her mind. She reached out and closed her hand around him member, teasing his tip with every up-movement with her thumb. If he hadn't had any self-control he would have come then and there.

Eager for more, not even sorely because of the memory recollection, he lifted her, her back still against the file cabinet. "I love you," he breathed against her mouth, barely audible. But she heard. It scared her a little, though the comfort-factor was even more satisfactory.

"I love you," she replied, and encircled her legs around his waist for leverage. From that moment, she knew he knew everything; from their moment of drunk lust until their moment of sweet comfort: it had not solely been an escape of reality, it had been a real thing. And the dollar in his wallet was proof of it.

Yet all these thoughts were pushed out of her mind as Wesley pushed himself into her, his moan calling her back into reality. She threw her arms around his still-clad back, holding onto him for dear life, or un-life. No, their relationship wasn't about holding hands, it was about hard, sweaty thrusting and cold and bare emotions. But in a way, it wasn't, yet it was perfect because of its imperfections. A love found because of all the fucked up shit in their lives. And where else to recapture those memories than at Wolfram & Hart?

His thrusts didn't only indicate his wanting for her, but also his wanting for his memories to return. His movements were frantic, fast and impatient; wanting all of her and her body . She felt the heat rising up her chest, her limbs and the sweat pearling on her forehead as his movements came more rapid. He wanted release, the end of his torment without her. He gripped her arse, directing his thrusts into her at a more skilled level, his knowledge of her body invading his mind. He knew again what to do to get her off.

She may not have wanted to get it over yet, but she felt her body rippling with her release, and his not soon after. They stayed in their position for a few seconds, hung back against the steel cabinets, before being able to hold up conversation. "Well," she managed, while their foreheads rested against each other, "how was that for a trip down memory lane?

He pulled out of her and put her back onto the ground. "It was," he said, and pulled up his pants, "rather insightful." She smirked at this remark, she truly did have her lover back. He eyed the monitor quickly before he looked back at her. "I see no need for the firm to be aware of my… current state of mind."

She chuckled and picked her shirt off the ground. "Maybe it's best for them to not know anything at all?" she asked, and quirked an eyebrow at him. It was against her nature to hold anything against Wolfram & Hart as a firm, if only for self-preservation, but since Angel was their CEO, there was little harm to be done in her opinion. "Unless, of course, you want me to tell. I mean, I am your secretary after all."

"No need for that," he replied curtly, and handed her blazer to her. Always they gentleman.

She eyed the monitors for a moment. "I didn't finish the code," she said, as she buttoned up her pants and shirt. "And I refuse to pump your band of merry buggers to implant information," she ordered him.

"Hmph," Wesley replied, rather self-absorbed. "As if I would let you." He took a swift look at the code she had been typing: it had only been meant for him. And he had no idea who did remember any of their combined history; surely no one had intended to wipe his memory. It just had to be another W&H scheme.

"As if I would," Lilah huffed in return, straightening her outfit. "I'm just glad I got you back. Any other milestone regarding this history is merely intended to cause you joy. I do not care," she spoke the honest truth, as she stroked his shoulders. "But we should get back, you know," she implied. "The Senior Partners have tabs everywhere, and I'm not just talking about that skank Eve."

"I know," Wesley replied absentmindedly. Yet he pulled his vision from the monitors and made his way for the door. When he arrived he extended his hand for Lilah to take. "To a new future, at Wolfram & Hart. Where the living, dead, and undead," he added, eyeing her, "will not fade away."

"I do have some liquor in my desk to toast to that," she smirked, and took his hand with wanton. So they exited Wesley's mind, back to the lobby, and intended to come up with a brilliant plan to uncover whomevers scheme they were lured into.

So Wesley had this boring little get-to gathering with Angel and Gunn. And Spike, every now and then, when he wasn't disappearing into the ether. Lilah just tagged along to get out of her scheduled hell-sequence of having to refill the toner again and again. And to take 'notes', she reminded herself while she doodled on her W&H-marked piece of paper. There was this heated discussion about saving budget on certain departments, which she thought were thoroughly ridiculous: Why cut money from a department that's about 300% profitable? Silly little do-gooders.

"Lilah?" Her head shot up instantly, surprised that Gunn had called out for her. He ignored her reaction and continued: "As a lawyer: What's your insight on this matter?" She didn't really want to give her opinion at first, but Angel's annoyance sparked her enthusiasm.

"I think you are all fool-hearted morons," she smiled, and especially at Angel. She got up and walked to the three and a half men in front of her. "I mean, aside from cutting a million dollar department, which is, and I must underline the 'million dollar' in this, insane on its own. You are starting a war with Hainsley, an extremely powerful necromancer, underlining 'powerful' and 'necromancer' here, who can kick all your undead asses. Because, note the 'necromancer', he can actually control your ass," she said, looking Angel in the eyes. "But that's just my humble opinion. I'm sure you lot have a lot of nifty knick-knacks to ensure his downfall!"

That did silence them for a few seconds. Until, of course, Angel and Spike the barbarians put their hands on their sides, threw in some ridiculous arguments which made Lilah roll her eyes at them, and got into 'Action Man'-mode. Gunn made some good counter-arguments, Wolfram & Hart did have some good information implements, yet the vampires stormed out of the office anyhow to face the man who made the line 'Argu with the 'piya, end up a bucket of lawya' possible. How these people had withstood the power of Wolfram & Hart for so long was a complete mystery to Lilah and put her to shame instantly.

"You know he's just going there to prove me wrong, right?" Lilah remarked, being left with only Gunn and Wesley. She crossed her arms as she watched Angel and Spike arguing before they stepped into the elevator. "It's not like he has a plan. Or a brain. Or any knowledge of finance. Or the concept of 'give and take'. Why did they make him boss again?"

"Well. He's more of our poster boy," Wesley replied, trying hard to not crack up. "Gunn and I are the brains behind this operation. He just does the fighting and the killing."

"Indeed. I'm not getting any slime demon on myArmani," Gunn said, brushing some lint off his shoulder with a dramatic wave off his hand.

Lilah 'Hmph'-ed at Gunn's remark. "Please. 'Your' Armani?" she scoffed, ridiculing him. "Wolfram & Hart owns your Armani-clad ass. Just as they own your paycheck, your car, your mind andyour soul. That is, if there was any room left for your soul with all that law knowledge pumped into your grey masses. Like teaching a monkey how to dance," she concluded, quite pleased with herself, "you know it can do it, but it'll never come of natural."

"Enough!" Wesley barked. Oh, right, 'degrading friends' was not part of her new job description. And Gunn looked like he was ready to punch her in the face. Would do a hell of a lot for his reputation if he did. But she'd just sue his ass, and his new mind knew that.

"I'll be in my office," Gunn gritted through his teeth to Wesley, but his fire-blazing eyes were staring into Lilah's. Who seemed rather unimpressed by him and returned his gaze defiantly. "You should check Hainsley's finances," she said loudly, as Gunn exited Angel's office. She turned to face Wesley, who looked a little torn between being mad at her for degrading his friend or shaking his pompoms for her telling the truth. Though the latter may have been a figment of her imagination.

He heaved a sigh. "I could lecture you on your lack of people skills…" he sighed, and leaned against Angel's desk. "Yet my restored memory tells me it would be of no use, for I have failed on that subject with you before. As on the subject of morals, sacrificing humans for the sake of good, and not putting back empty cartons of milk in the refrigerator. So I'm just going to accept your obvious imperfections and pray that my advanced skills on those subjects will balance yours out," he finished. Ahw, that was kind of sweet. Save for the fact that he called her a ruthless, heartless bitch. And a sloppy one!

She was torn from her thoughts by him cracking into laughter. "Dancing monkey," he explained curtly, as he hiccups a few more laughs.

"What do you mean 'there's no sacrifices'?!" Lilah exclaimed, her eyes widening in amazement. She overheard Lorne and Harmony talking about the upcoming Halloween Bash, which usually was the best time of year for Wolfram & Hart employees, and she couldn't help but eavesdrop. It was the only party you did not have to fear your own clients and could get drunk over random deaths of peers. "This party's going the be the bore of the century," she moped.

Lorne came up to her, hands on his hips. "I don't recall asking for your opinion."

"Well. You should. I've attended these little shindigs for years! I know what these people bond over. Nothing to boost moral around here like setting those little pricks from IT on fire," she beamed, putting her thumbs up at him. "And it doesn't conflict with Angel's silly 'don't kill humans'-clause. They resurrected them along with a few others after the Beast zombified Wolfram & Hart last year. And you'll save on the electrical bill: those undead torches will last all night!"

He seemed a bit horrified, yet a little intrigued, but she saw him shake that last feeling off rather quickly. "You must be laughing your head off," he said, shaking his own head rather exhausted. She noticed he did look a little less green. Do those things wear off colour? "This isn't a joke!" he said, slightly more persistent.

Lilah raised a finger as she intended to lecture him. "One: Of all the head-related jokes you could come up with?" she asked, and looked at little disappointed. "And second: I know it isn't a joke. I've seen partyplanners taking their own lives because of this thing. Which was the main act in '96 I might add. But judging by your plans I'd rather die. Again. Than wasting my time." Lilah closed her eyes and sighed with frustration as realisation dawned on her. Hell would make her attend anyway.

"I take it you're coming," Lorne said grumpily, judging by her reaction.

"You should be glad I'm coming," Lilah retorted quickly. "Unlike our fanged CEO I actually do care about upholding healthy relationships with our clientele. And potentials. Actually, anyone who I can use for my own benefit. And let's just say that it's not just my contract that extends beyond my death, my relationships do as well."

Lorne needed a few seconds to process this information, but realised that she was his best shot at getting a few interesting guests. "I do still loath your guts, you know that?" he said, as he held out his hand for her to take. "Truce, my little Lilac flower?"

"Sure," she said, and shook his hand. "But if you ever call me that again. I will cut your feet off, shove a light bulb up your ass and plug you in to light up my little cell in hell," she replied, beaming at him. She almost cheered for herself when she heard an audible gulp from him. But she was too used to putting her game face on at the workplace to just give into that feeling. She was a professional, you know.

There was so much she could say about the night of the party; but the gist: I was hell on earth. Gunn peed all over the place, Wesley and Fred got drunk on nothing, Angel and Eve had gotten it on and Spike annoyed the hell out of everything by being Mister Positive. And this would have made Lilah's night if she hadn't literally been laughing her head off all night. Which, being a decapité, was extremely embarrassing and inconvenient. And hilarious. Especially for drunk Wesley who didn't let a minute pass without cracking a joke. Bastard.

But after the gang had saved the day at four in the morning, Wesley was far too tired to go home for those few hours, so they fell asleep on the couch in his office. But not before he just had to mention that she'd 'given head' a lot that night (and only because when she laughed other guests caught her head) which earned him a royal elbow in the stomach before she snickered at the remark. "These jokes about heads will go on forever, won't they," she sighed in gleeful relief.

"Only if you're lucky," he replied, and kissed her head before nuzzling her neck.

So Fred started going on dates with Knox. Well, that was all she knew really. Apparently she had a whole chat about this with Harmony at the water cooler who had talked about it at the same place with Lilah. In her days, office gossip really wasn't that much of a deal. Unless you were sleeping with the enemy, as she was, but the Fred and Knox thing seemed to be the talk of the day. And Lilah was more than willing to contribute to spreading this thing.

And then Fred got shot during evil negotiations. Which also wasn't that big of a deal during her prime days. It was more of a miracle if you didn't get shot or hurt during one. But she supposed 'being on the side of good' meant that these things were quite uncommon. But Angel scolded on Wesley for being reckless for taking Fred which made Lilah repressing the urge to dust him on the spot. Or put some garlic powder in his afternoon blood in the least.

"He called Fred 'his people'?" Lilah asked, folding her arms across her chest. "I'm sorry. I thought you all signed up at Team Angel out of free will. Or at least because you had a death wish. Not that it's really apparent: But she's a grown woman! You're not her guardian," she spat angrily.

"That is what I told him. In a nutshell," he replied curtly.

Lilah 'humph'-ed at that remark. "No you didn't. You probably just said okay and walked away because you know deep down he still feels that you betrayed him once, with Connor, and is afraid that you'll do it again with anyone else he cares about," she said, raising an eyebrow at him. "Why are you so afraid to tell him off?!" she added, getting a little infuriated by this. "In case you haven't noticed: The atmosphere has changed around here. You're not getting a real axe anymore. Or sack, for that matter. The worst you'll get is that he'll cry over it and that he'll put you in the corner for misbehave."

The corners of Wesley's mouth slowly started to curl into a smirk. "You really want me to say: 'Nobody puts Wesley in the corner'?" he asked, his eyes sparkling with childish enthusiasm.

"I know someone who has," came a voice from the door. Wesley and Lilah instantly directed their attention to the source. Wesley out of sheer horror of recognition the voice, and Lilah out of annoyance and curiosity.

"Father," Wesley said, but remained in place.

Hey, he could have told her she was going to meet the parentals. "I'm sorry," Wesley said, and composed himself. He was obviously quite uncomfortable by this whole situation. And she sensed some unresolved father-son issues. "Lilah, this is my father, Roger Wyndham-Price," he watched as they shook hands. "Father this is Lilah Morgan… My assistant," he said, warning her with his eyes.

Much like Lilah knew that Roger was a member of the Watcher's Council and was trying hard to rebuild it, she figured Roger must know that she was a high-ranked lawyer at Wolfram & Hart, the centre of all evil. Well, maybe not all evil, but most of it anyway.

"You let your employees dress like this," he remarked with that snotty little tone of his as he quickly glanced at her low-cut blouse. Lilah's jaw dropped and she was ready to fire up the insult machine as Wesley gently circled his hand around her waist.

"And we also happen to be romantically involved," he smirked at Lilah, and then at his father. Oh, she could play this game with him, she thought as she reached her hand out to readjust the collar of his shirt. And she had to repress the urge to squeeze his buttocks, she figured jolly old Roger might get a heart-attack.

All of a sudden, Lilah's watch starts to beep rapidly and she groans in despair. "Got to go, lover," she said and pressed a kiss on his lips, which she way or may not have made a little more whore-ish than she actually would have intended. "Hell can't get enough of me," she shrugged, before starting to walk backwards towards the door. "It was nice meeting you," she said to Roger. And she mouthed 'good luck' before exiting.

"Do tell me 'hell' is an acronym or some sort," Roger sighed, in only a way a disappointed dad could do.

"No, it's actual hell," Wesley said thoughtfully. "Wolfram & Hart likes to keep its dead employees close," he spoke deliberately, observing his father for his reaction. "But they liked her well enough to design a personal hell for her up here in our offices, rather inventive really. The office never seems to amaze me with their creative projects."

And then this thing about the alarm going off while Lilah was giving a tour through the Science Department because it was 'Bring your spawn to work day'. Fortunately the diabolical little munchkins fled for their lives and Lilah could check out what the fuss was all about. When she opened the door almost everyone had fled the scene already. Save for Fred, Wesley and his father. And Spike.

"So what's with the pile of meat and wires screaming its guts out?" Lilah asked Spike, who was curiously witnessing the scene as well. Wesley was forcing Fred to leave, most likely fed by his urge to protect people and guilt for 'letting her get shot'.

"Oh, I don't know. I'm just here to watch the grand Angel soap opera unfold. Did you know that English was Head Boy?!" he said, as if three other people in the room weren't about to die of a ticking time bomb ready to explode. "Boy he really does have some lingering feelings for that Fred girl, heh?" he implied.

"Does not!" Lilah replied as an petulant child.

"Ha! I knew it!" Spike exclaimed in personal triumph. "You and Prissy Pants have been doing the nasty. Shagging your brains out. Shaking the desk of evil with your horizontal tango. Okay, so I'm temporarily out of euphemisms, but you get the gist!" he spoke vividly as Lilah rolled her eyes at him. Couldn't he just tune into Days of our Lives for all eternity and forget about the office romances?

In the meantime Wesley Senior had sufficiently de-bombed the robot with a simple push of a button. Which was kind of an anti-climax for our two undead spectators. But it seemed to be a relieve for the people who were actually alive. "Actively uniting the forces of good and evil," Spike injected thoughtfully.

"You've made your point!" Lilah hissed forcefully. What was it about vampires and going on and on about things. Not to mention that this room was soon to be crowded with people again and she didn't want the whole office to be buzzing about her romance with Wesley. Again. "So how 'bout that Shanshu prophecy?" she asked, as if it was an insignificant matter.

"How 'bout it?" Spike retorted quickly, his interest instantly peeked.

"Well. I could show you. If you keep this little revelation of yours to yourself," she proposed. It seemed like a pretty lame deal when she repeated it in her head. Giving away classified information about a high-profile prophecy for a ghost's silence. How low has she sunk again? She turned to leave. "Well?"

Aside from Spike trying to use his newfound powers of touching objects for a short period of time, including her butt, this was the best time she had since returning from the depths of hell. Not taking Wesley-time into account, of course. Spike and her did share a deep-rooted hate for all things Angel . And they were both fond of mischief and they were both dead, so they bonded.

"And what a surprise: More books!" Spike said, as Lilah opened the central library. "So where's the Evil Scroll Department?" he said, checking out the small square space. Surely he didn't think this was an impressive collection? They could build a new Wolfram & Hart out of what they had stacked up here. Or stolen. Well, 'lend', they were 'good' now.

Lilah let her fingers trail the books that were displayed in the middle of the room, and pulled only one out. She held the upside against her lips as she stared into Spike's eyes. "Shanshu prophecy, English translation," she spoke, and opened the book on the table. Spike hurried to her side and watched as the blank pages transformed into the prophecy, most of it still in an unreadable language for the two of them.

"So the 'vampire with a soul' will become human," Spike said with a rather pensive expression on his face, when he put some bits and pieces together. "It doesn't say whichvampire."

Lilah, in the meantime, was leaning against the table and filing her nails. "If you say so," she sighed. She could care less about who'd Shanshu. Spike and Angel were going to be tied to her unlife for all eternity, she was sure the firm would take care of that. In the worst case Angel was going to Shanshu, become human and then die, and have a perpetuity clause in his contract, and they'd have to share a place in hell. So yeee for Team Spike. "Now that we fulfilled that wish of yours," she said, and put the book back in line, "we should get out of here."

"Ooh, you're afraid your little boyfriend will catch you here?" he mocked her. "Race you to the lobby!" And he let himself fall through the floor, being incorporeal and all.

"I assure you father, that all these secret documents are under perfect surveillance. You can't just get into this building," Wesley spoke, his tone of voice slightly irritated, as he was so very much trying to impress his father. Sadly for Wes, Lilah still occupied the room when he opened the double doors, which kind of countered his little speech about security. But she had a plan.

"Hey, honey," Lilah greeted him much too cheerful. He instantly froze in his tracks. There, on the table that held the most precious book collection he has ever seen, sat his girlfriend. Only with her blouse hanging open, showing her bra, and her skirt yanked up inappropriately high. If the embarrassment and shame hadn't overruled all feelings he'd have certainly jumped her here and now.

"Lilah. What are you doing here?" he asked, even though the obvious obviousness of it was clearly shining through.

"Well, I figured if we couldn't have a nooner, we'd have a nighter," she smirked, and closed her blouse. "But I see you're still otherwise occupied," she drawled as she glanced at his father. Roger had a look on his face as if she'd just admitted to blowing up the Watcher's Council. So she slid of the desk and walked up to Wesley. "Roof, half an hour," she whispered huskily into his ear. He muttered something incoherent which sounded as an agreement, so she left him there to ditch his father so they could get to 'doing the nasty'.

Only the wrong Wyndham-Pryce made it to the roof first, along with Captain Forehead (Spike cracked her up with that one). At first she thought it was some sick joke Hell made up for her, but reality crashed down rapidly: Evil had infiltrated the Centre of Evil in the form of Wesley's father. And Lilah, well, she hated to be cheated on in her own game.

"Roger?" she called out, and stumbled forward in a pretty damsel-like fashion. "What are you doing here? Where is Wesley?" she asked, a hint of desperation in her voice. He didn't seem all too happy with her sudden appearance and knocked her right in the face with that gemmed wooden stick of his. So 'undead' didn't exclude 'unconscious'. If only for a little while.

The banter between Wesley and Roger had her squinting her eyes open again. Angel was laying on the roof, probably in pain because of the grunts that came from him. Wesley was standing near the edge of the roof, holding that staff. "Well perhaps if it's someone you care about…"Roger spoke, and hoisted her up by her arm. The shots that followed rang on and on in her head. Her expression was blank at first, unable to grasp the chain of events.

But then it hit her: Wesley shot his father. For her.

Her first intentions were to make a remark about how he hadn't been able to make her even more dead, but after watching Wesley puke his guts out she decided to let that one slide, concerning the guilt that would add to his conscience. So instead she just rushed over to him and embraced him. She was kind of socially awkward at these things, but it seemed like the best solution in this case. And he seemed to think the same for he grasped onto her for dear life, burying his head in the nook of her neck.

"He's not real," Lilah said, in utter amazement, as she noticed the sparks flying from Roger's chest. "Wesley he's not real," she repeated in the same tone of voice, as she motioned him to look at his father's corpse. Small jets of lightning crawled out of its chest and within seconds there was just another cyborg laying there.

"It's not your father," Lilah said, a small note of relief in her voice.

"But I still killed him. For you," was all he was able to produce before he fell into a black whole of inner turmoil. God, she sincerely hoped that wouldn't last all night.

And it didn't. He had been horrified enough by Spike and Angel's horror stories about killing off their relatives that killing your father-only-not for your love didn't seem so bad in comparison. Boy, that whole 'slitting your throat'-thing really had toughened him up. She should send Justine a Thank You-bouquet one day for that.

She knew she wouldn't be given any peace shortly, but she had gotten some inner peace now that it was clear that Wesley would even kill his dad for her.

The elevator doors opened and Angel stepped into it, ready to enjoy a few moments of quiet before all hell broke loose again. That battle with Spike had made quite an impact on him. Not just physical, but emotionally as well. He just needed some time to think. But he was glad Gunn was okay.

"So, where we're going, boss?" Lilah's tired, yet cheerful voice came from the corner next to the door. Angel had to restrain himself from not wrenching the door open with his bare hands. "In case you haven't noticed, I'm also not quite overjoyed by being locked with you in a small box in the middle of the night while I could be in my lover's arms. So just tell me which floor and we'll be done with it."

Lilah's words went way too fast for him to process. "Eleventh," he said. Or grumped. Or groaned. Something in that fashion. She suspected this was the 'brooding' she had heard all about.

"So what happened?" she asked, not able to restrain her curiosity. "Bloody fountain pen went bananas on you?"

Angel was sure there was some kind of elevator time warp going on. Everything went far too slowly. "I never got that term," he mused.

"Bananas?" Lilah asked, raising an eyebrow at him. "It's 'crazy', or something. Harmony uses it quite often. Some pop-cultural reference…" Her talking and him not talking was probably as comforting as comforting could get while being enclosed with evil in a box.

Eleventh floor. Welcome home, Mister Angel.

"MisterAngel? Why don't you just rip off you leather pants and jump onto the bar. I'll line up the shots and put on some Dancing Queen?," she blurted out, as he exited the lift. "Goodnight, boss!" she said, as the doors started to close.

"Goodnight Banana Bitch."

"Wesley?" a soft female voice called out before he saw the doors to his office opening. Sure thing, the Head of the Science Department was standing before him. "Sorry to be barging in here in the middle of the day," she apologized, and closed the door behind her. "I intended to ask Lilah if you were busy, but she wasn't there, so I figured it would be okay to ask-"

Wesley's breath got caught in his throat for a second when he saw someone enter. "Damn," he muttered under his breath, not loud enough for his friend to hear. "Y-yes, Fred," he said. "Your visit doesn't come-" he held back a groan "—at an inconvenient time."

"Wesley, are you alright?" she asked, with a concerned tone of voice. She sat down in front of him, her hands clasped inside her lap and looked at him expectedly. "Sweat is beading on your forehead, which usually indicates a sudden temperature rise. Was it the nest of Pluhrtag demons? I read they can cause such symptoms," she babbled.

"Yes!" he blurted out, perhaps a little too loud compared to her tone of voice in this situation. "I suspected something of that sort," he said, and took out a Kleenex from a box to dry off his forehead. "So I ordered Lilah to deliver some of my fluids at Mystical Diseases and Cures."

Fred frowned and looked away, almost disappointed. "Why didn't you send them to me?" she asked. It was as if she was accusing him of ignoring her expertise. Or maybe, not even her expertise, just her. Just dandy, when he wanted her she didn't want him. And now that he went through all those changes, she did want him. Un-fucking-believable. And unwanted.

"I—I just figured you were busy with other things," he said rapidly. His hands braced the desk and he forced his head to take calm for just a few more minutes. He couldn't give anything away just yet, not until they found a solution to the memory-problem. "Why – what… Did you want to tell me something, Fred?" Fortunately his mind was still somewhat functioning.

"It's not that important," she shrugged, with a shy smile on her face. He noticed she didn't want to ask but he gave her a look that motioned her to go on. "I wondered if you wanted to have lunch with me?"

Crap. "I would love to, Fred," he said, but felt a sharp sting in his upper things. "But I'm feeling a lot of pressure from down under," he said, and briefly looked down before returning his gaze towards Fred. "So I honestly cannot change the conference call I have at twelve. Raincheck?" he asked, corking one eyebrow.

"Twelve?" Fred answered with a shocked expression on her face. She looked at her watch. "But that's in five minutes! Why didn't you say?" But she wasn't expecting an answer for she shoved back her chair and stood up in one swift motion. "I'll leave you alone for now," she said, stumbling over her own feet to get out. "I'll call in next time!" she warned, before exiting his office.

The second Wesley heard the door make a soft 'click' noise he threw his head back and tried to bite back his groan as good as he could possibly can (he didn't want Fred to rush back in to check if he was okay). He was panting rapidly as he felt his chair being pushed back, and two hand used his thighs for leverage to get up.

"Oooops," he heard her snarky voice, and his mouth twisted into a cheeky smile. "I may have lost your liquid sample, Mr. Wyndham-Price," Lilah said, as Wesley found the strength to open his eyes again. "Perhaps you should donate again," she leaned into him, their lips almost touching, and he could feel her breath onto him.

"That's just plain gross, you minx," he replied. Still heated, he put his hands on her buttocks and pulled her into his lap. Without giving it too much thought, Wesley ripped open Lilah's blouse, exposing her to him. He sat back in his chair for a few seconds, admiring her look: skirt riding up her thighs, open blouse, flushed face and eyes that were too lost in lust to form any kind of comprehensible thought.

Lilah smirked as she let her hand trail down between the two of them. "Come on, Skip," she said, as she moved her hand up and down his member, readying him again. "You're not the only one 'feeling pressure down under'," she quoted him, trying not to crack into laughter and ruin the mood. Yet his head was experiencing too much of a rush to take note of the remark, for she was teasing the head of his cock with her folds. His hands crept under her skirt, feeling the hot flesh of her thighs, pooling the garment up at her waist to grant him a better view.

So she pushed down, embracing him with her wet heath. They moved in unison, breathing heavy, their pressure already at a high so this wouldn't last long. The only sound in the room, other than their panting, was the loud screeching of the chair as Lilah sped up her movement impaling her on her lover with determination, hitting her sweet spot inside over and over again. With far too much noise than Wesley had anticipated she came around him, her walls convulsing and almost sending him over the edge as well.

Almost. So with all his remaining strength he stood up and threw her onto the desk. She smiled lopsided at him, her mind still foggy from her orgasm. Her legs circled around his waist, begging him to continue. "Please, Wesley…" That was all he needed. He ignored the rhythm she wanted him to take, and slowly picked up his pace, watching in glee as her face scrunched with frustration. "Wesley for fuck's sake!" she shouted, unable to take his sweet torture anymore.

"Sounds like a good sake," he croaked, finally giving into her, and his own, wishes and rapidly sped up, quickly building up his own orgasm again. He felt she was close again as well, her cunt starting to contract it's muscles around his prick. He came hard, together with her, and after he had undone himself, he slumped back into the chair, trying to regain his breath.

Lilah, still laying on top of his desk, had perched herself up onto her elbows. She touched his knee with her left foot, as to wake him out of his daze. They were both pulled back into reality as his phone rang and they realized they were in his office at Wolfram & Hart. Lilah reached out and pressed the speakerphone-button. "Wesley Wyndham-Price's office, this is Lilah Morgan speaking. How may I help you?" she spoke, her voice impressively normal again.

"Lilah, it's Gunn. Get Wesley out of whatever he's doing at the moment and tell him to come to Angel's office ASAP. It's about Cordelia."

"You are not coming to this meeting!" Wesley ordered strictly Lilah as she trailed him down the hall, rapidly putting on a blazer to cover her torn shirt. He knew she was stubborn, and that he was going to fail winning this discussion, but at least he would have tried.

"In case I haven't fucked you well enough," she spat angrily, "I'll just fill you in on the following details of my previous encounter with Cordelia: She killed me!"

Wesley suddenly stopped in his tracks, causing Lilah to bump into him. "That wasn't Cordelia!" he tried to say as deliberately as possibly, but she could hear the cold anger in his voice.

She rolled her eyes. "It was wearing her face. Come on, even Harmony is invited to the 'Welcome back to our new Evil Headquarters'-Party."

"They were best friends in high school," he explained as he started walking again. Really, he just wanted to walk into Angel's office and embrace one of his dearest friends and celebrate her return. Instead this was combined with his girlfriend slash employee facing the face of the killer of her mortal self. When did life complicate itself like this again?

"And then she tried to eat her. You know I will find my way in anyhow, don't you?" she said, challenging him with her eyes. "Besides. I can make snide remarks and she can get mad at me instead of dumping a whole lot of horsepoo onto your heads for taking over Wolfram & Hart."

"That…" Wesley spoke while her comments were still trying to make sense in his head. "That's actually not that bad of an idea. You do have a way of moulding my actual thoughts into words-"

"-And unlike you I do not care how your sad little gang feels about me. Perfect if you ask me. I have a free pass to insult the hell out of everybody, and everybody bonds again over their collective hate of me."

He really didn't want to continue this discussion. "Just follow me this once, and keep quiet," he said reluctantly, and looked her into the eyes. "At least until we all welcomed her back. I mean it," and she knew he did. Well, a few minutes shutting up in her eternity of death wouldn't kill her. She didn't verbally agree but he could see she understood. So he pushed the door open and entered Angel's office.

Lilah stayed at the door and watched and listened as everyone hugged and cried and poured their hearts out and – yawn! She hated this. And she really had the urge to rip Cordy's face off, paste it onto some kind of demon and hunt it down so she could kill it with her bare hands. Alas, those were just fantasies. A girl can dream.

"What is she doing here?!"

It took Lilah a few seconds to realize that Cordelia was looking at her while she spoke out her amazement of her presence. "Oh, I'm just here for the booze," she said, while she held up her glass of scotch. "And to look my killer into the eyes," she said, and looked the other woman into her big brown orbs. "Well, the face of my killer, anyhow," she added, as she noticed the emotional turmoil behind Cordelia's eyes. And the stares of the others boring into her.

"Lilah," Angel growled from behind Cordelia.

Yet Cordy put a hand on his chest, as to hold him back. "It's okay, Angel. I understand," he looked puzzled, but she seemed to be at ease with this confrontation. "I'm sorry for what happened to you," she told Lilah, and it felt sincere. She could hear the grief and sorrow in the other woman's voice, even though it wasn't too obvious.

"Well. If my head wasn't attached to my body," she said, as she subconsciously stroked the scarf tied around her neck. "Okay, I suppose that one doesn't fly…" she mused, and then laughed at her own joke. And she could've sworn she heard Wesley snort next to her. "Anyhow, welcome to Wolfram & Hart, evil law firm extraordinaire. Would you like some coffee? I recommend dark, as our clients souls!" she said with a million dollar smile on her face.

"Hey!" Fred exclaimed. "We are not evil."

"You," Lilah said, and pointed her finger, "are very naïve. And incorrect. You signed a contract with our firm, they'll be forever in your life. Or afterlife," she shrugged, indicating her own situation. "I'm sure Cordelia can knock some sense into that little head of yours," she said, and knocked lightly on Fred's skull with her knuckles.

That degrading gesture almost caused steam to ventilate from Fred's ears, and Lilah figured that this was her cue to leave. Which was even more emphasized by the look Wesley gave her. "Alright… Harmony? Want to grab a late lunch?" It was more of an order than a question. "My dead heart can only take so much emotional blubbering," she said, heading for the door.

Harmony followed in her wake, waving Cordelia goodbye cheerily.

Much like any secretary at Wolfram & Hart, Lilah spend most of her time doing hardly anything at all concerning work. Sure, she send a few messages, typed a few letters or ordered some mystical book or file Wesley needed for research, but she noticed that spending her time with her dead and undead colleagues was far more rewarding. Besides, she would probably be attending either this work or somekind of hellish activity in one of Wolfram & Harts holding dimensions for all eternity, so she figured it was best to make the best of this.

It had been a few days since Cordelia's death and it had effected everyone of Angel's gang. Even Harmony had spent a good afternoon crying all over Lilah's DKNY skirt (she'd send her the laundry bill), but her new found best friend had few intelligence and no remorse so that went by pretty quickly. Wesley had been a different case. He was at peace, in a way, for he did have some kind of a chance to say his goodbyes. But he seemed to lean more towards the dark side of grey these days, and it bothered the hell out of Lilah.

Fortunately comic relief came from an email send by Harmony. Poor thing, so desperate to win the 'Secretary of the Year Award'. She replied that Jake from Accountancy already had two wives, but that he always would just love to add a third member to his clan. But she had gotten to care too much about her to mention that Jake, being a Murv, used vampire dust to enhance fertility with its spouses.

"I still don't trust you," a voice came from the other side of her desk.

Lilah looked up, right into the face of that darned empathy demon. She had wondered when he would come by to express his concern about her instalment at the firm. "Is it still that 'sucking your memory from your head'-thing?" she replied, while pushed the 'send' button on the computer. "I figured I kind of balanced it out by helping you lot stop world destruction."

Lorne narrowed his eyes at her. "No. It's more of a thing of you being a crazy, evil lawyer who tortured or tried to kill me and my friends numerous times in the past four years. But I suppose you don't care because you wouldn't feel any remorse concerning your previous actions."

Okay, so she really didn't care, he had a point, decork the champagne. Oh, why didn't she think of this before, stupid. If she couldn't tell… "I can sing for you?" she asked innocently. She could tell that he hadn't quite expected this from her, or maybe he doubted whether she even had a soul to look in to. Whichever, he was stunned at first.

"Well. Bring it on, Sugarlips." And thank God or whomever he didn't say 'little Lilac flower'.

As Lilah wished that Wolfram & Hart extracted these thirty seconds of her life, she started singing some song she knew the lyrics of in her mediocre singing voice. And for the bored expression on her face she certainly wasn't going to get some bonus points. But then again, it would be the impression she made on her audience that counted in the end. And it must've been an impression, for he stayed silent for a good three minutes.

"Do you need me to call Janitorial to sweep your jaw off the floor?" she implied, concerning his silence. "Is it the song? I was gonna go with 'You can leave your hat on.' Get it? 'Head' on-"

"-How?" he stuttered. He composed his posture. "It's a spell. Or some kind of trick you have pulled on me. How else can I not remember that Angel had a son?" Lilah started to get the impression that he was talking more to himself than to her. Which kind of annoyed her because she didn't like being ignored. Especially not by a demon.

"Dead woman under contract of evil," she said, and raised her hands in a defensive position. "And in hell, I might add to that equation. Evil wouldn't give me any kind of power that could help me escape my destiny of color-coding paperclips for all eternity. The only powers I have are my fabulous fashion sense and my sharp tongue."

Lorne had slumped down in an empty chair next to her. He watched her extract a bottle of scotch from one of the drawers and poured him and herself a double. "Cheers," he said, and clunked his glass against hers. This was way too much information to take in at once. So he picked up his cell to call his own secretary to cancel his appointment that afternoon.

"You can't speak about this to anyone," Lilah said, and took a good sip of her drink.

"You want me to keep this from my friends? You arecrazy," he replied, discarding her comment with a wave of his hand.

Lilah sighed dramatically. "I mean. You can't speak about this. I didn't show my lack of musical talent because I have a secret dream of stardom harboured in my heart. There must be some kind of contract preventing people to speak about these happenings." Contract."Of course, I'm such an idiot!" she blurted out, and facepalmed herself.

"I'll drink to that," Lorne replied, and raised his glass before he gulped down the last content of his drink. "Call that ruggedly handsome man of yours and share your plan," he added, and raised an eyebrow at her.

"Man of yours?" she replied, mirroring his raised eyebrow.

"Oh, you didn't have sing for that little secret to come out, sweety."

"You two are starting to piss me off," Lilah sighed. She was sitting on the edge of Angel's desk, her legs crossed, as she observed Wesley and Lorne pacing the room. Files & Records did have a contract concerning a memory altering on the day Team Angel had taken over Wolfram & Hart. And it was signed by Chief Fang himself. She loved a good confrontation, yet Wesley and Lorne were far too anxious about it. "Can't you just sit down and wait. We've only been here for ten minutes."

Lorne and Wesley ignored her at this point and had started a discussion on how they were going to break the news to their boss when the door opened.

"Hey, Angel," Lilah called out, a little loud so her partners in crime would hear as well. "I've got this contract I want you to take a look at," she said, with a rather meaningful look in her eyes. She held it out for him, as if she was showing her A+ graded assignment to her parents, her sense of pride beaming of off her.

Angel took the paper out of her hand and skimmed it, only to look back at her with a horrified expression on his face. "How did you get this." He seemed rather infuriated. Yet it was his blood-drenched signature at the bottom of the page. She didn't have any more blood to spill anyway.

"I think the question ought to be: Why did youdo this?" Wesley came to her defence. He was obviously heart-broken by this betrayal. She'd make him feel better later. Oh, right, important matters were going on. Better pay attention. "Why did you erase Connor's existence from our minds, and everything that happened because of that," he said, glancing briefly at Lilah before returning his gaze at Angel.

"You all know?" he said, as if it were something unbelievable. He obviously was having his personal apocalypse. "You did this," he growled, and lunged for Lilah's throat.

She gave him the satisfaction of overpowering her for a moment, and even threw in some gurgling-sounds, just for the hell of it. Then she stopped squirming and laughed in his face. "What are you going to do? Make me even dead-er?" she said, as she felt his grip loosening around her neck. He had pulled away from her and she had sat up again. "If you ignore the fact that I have to spend all my spare time in my personal hell, this whole 'being dead'-thing is not that bad. Save for having to watch the head," she grimaced, and turned her head a little to the right and readjusted her scarf.

"Did the Senior Partners put you up to this?" Angel asked, a little more calm, but certainly equally intense.

Lilah dramatically laid her hand onto the place on her chest where her heart used to beat. "I pledge to the flag, yada yada yada, that my motives, as usual, were absolutely selfish. And nothing but," she spoke, eyeing Wesley. "Those bits about Connor were merely essential to tie all the bits together. Those dreambuilders may have done an excellent job on your son, but your friends, and especially your enemies, well, let's just say that Wolfram & Hart doesn't like to raise their budget. Always read the fine print, boss."

He was just absolutely stunned. As if he hadn't expected Wolfram & Hart to screw their new CEO over. It was the natural order of things. He turned around and faced Wesley and Lorne. "Connor. He… He was a liability to himself. That's why I had his memory altered and made sure he had a good home. A normal home. I couldn't risk you finding out and looking him up. I did everything wrong during the time I have known him. It would have been too painful if you asked how he'd be doing. I just couldn't handle it…"

"High-five for selfishness!" Lilah exclaimed proudly, and raised her hand at him. "I knew you had it in you. We're having a real Wolfram & Hart After School Special moment," she said, pretending to wipe a tear away.

"I was not selfish-"

"But you were," Wesley spoke coldly. "You ignored the thoughts and feelings of your best friends. Didn't want them to feel and experience what they had gone through the year and a half before we took over Wolfram & Hart. How bad those memories may have been," he said, playing the memory of the night he intended to save Connor from Angel, "they led us to new people, new experiences… You tortured our minds because you couldn't handle it?"

Lorne coughed. "That does sound a little unconcerned about our opinion, Angelcakes."

The argument may not have ended in context, but they were disturbed by a frantic Harmony bursting through the doors. "It's Fred!" she panicked. "She was standing at the top of the stairs, talking to one of her interns, but she fell and started coughing up blood," though the only person even listening after the word 'Fred' was Lilah, who still had absolutely no intentions of saving the day. Especially not the Texan Twig, who reminded her of one of the most degrading experiences in her life. But, to show a little colleague-spirit she slid off the desk and followed Harmony into the lobby, where panic had ensued.

Okay. So Fred died, and Lilah's undead heart made a little leap in her chest. And even though she was like absolutely certain of Wesley's affections, she did do some research into 'where to buy blue hair and spray paint' and 'red leather cat suits'. And even though the latter may be an option, the first one certainly was not. Damn Wesley and his Madonna/Whore/Old one complex.

Let's just go a little back in time for that. What with all the time-warping going on.

Poor Wesley. Now every woman in his life was officially dead, whether they were still roaming the earth or not. And she noticed that he was getting into 'dark Wesley'-mode more and more. But he was still himself. Even Gunn, who now had his memory back as well, was nothing compared to someone else in the office going through changes.


Well. His face was going through some changes as Harmony pummelled his across Angel's office. Lilah, being the saint she is today, let Wesley have his goodbye-scene with Fred. But she also didn't like to get her hands dirty, literally, so she just cheered on team Harmony. The only flaw in this plan was Illyria coming over, knocking both her and the vampire all through the office, and kidnapping the science geek.

And when they stumbled back into Angel's office to face the do-gooders they were welcomed by some active cellphone-throwing by the hero himself. The Sunnydale Alumni were not coming over to save the day. Something about not joining forces with evil. Stupid morals. What use was a slayer to the world if she didn't want to fly over to fight against World Destruction? Obviously the Watcher's Council were a bunch of amateurs, otherwise they would have set up some sort of contract.

The fun quickly wore off when Wesley stabbed Gunn. Three years ago this would have been friggin' hilarious, when she was still trying to destroy Angel's team, but now it just had her worrying about Wesley's wellbeing. She didn't think she'd rub that much evil off on him. But when she found out why, she wanted to axe Gunn herself. See? That's why reckless gangsters don't become lawyers! You should always read the fine print before you sign. It's like, rule #1.

Another Rule #1, concerning friendship, is that you don't stab each other in the back. Or, in Wesley's case, you don't stab each other in the gut. She'd been mad at him for putting Gunn in hospital, not because they could've lost Gunn, but because she was afraid of losing him. He was already drowning in guilt and sorrow, last thing they needed was him falling into the abyss of evil. She got that covered for the both of them.

Back to the now. For Fred's blue-haired shell had returned, demon included, to 'wonder about the world of the humans' or something along those lines. Its presence just bothered the hell out of Lilah because it was constantly stating the obvious. Just for the fun of it, Lilah made it her personal goal make it parrot some words. Which erupted some laughter from Spike and herself when Illyria blurted out 'This shit is bananas' whilst Angel was giving this boring lecture about apocalypses or something.

But there was something about needing some information from someone, which she didn't catch because she was doodling instead of taking notes, and they all went out so she was stuck babysitting Illyria. Oh, the joy.

They had managed to uphold the silence for at least forty-five minutes.

"You do not seem to be pleased with my presence," Illyria stated while she gave Lilah one of those annoying penetrating gazes.

"Gee, what gave it away? My complete lack of enthusiasm?" Lilah deadpanned. She sincerely hoped that our heroes came back safe and sound so they could take care of the disabled demon again.

Illyria, unaware of the term 'sarcasm', continued: "It is the shell. You express no fondness of it. Yet you accept this task. Your motives raise questions."

"I'm just doing a friend a favour who does care for 'the shell'," she said, and air-quoted 'shell' to emphasize. Now she understood people who just tied their dog to a tree when they went on holiday. Leaving some things behind just caused less trouble than keeping it, regardless of their affections.

"Wesley." Lilah's head piped up. "He cares for the shell. More than the others. I wanted to lie to him, become the shell, but he did not want me to."

"Don't ever become the shell for him," Lilah spoke coldly, staring Illyria into her icy blue eyes. The thought alone infuriated her from a place deep inside her. "You will NEVER be the shell!" she said, even less in control of her voice.

Illyria challenged her with her eyes, and took position in front of her. "Your affections make you weak," she simply stated. Sure, her species weren't bothered by such trivial matters. "If Wesley had not expressed his affections for you, I would have terminated you for your insolence. No mortal raises their voice to an Old One like that. We ruled the world, had great armies, we-"

"-Blah, blah, blah," Lilah interrupted her and folded her arms across her chest. "You are not special! Look at you: No impressive powers, no army of mindless minions and you are stuck in the body of the Texan Twig. So grea-" But that was all she got to say before Illyria used some of the powers she had left and kicked her right through the door, and all the way across the lobby.

"You dare to insult me!" Illyria thundered, as she stepped over the debris she caused. Dust came falling, making it seem as if the demon emerged from a grey mist.

Lilah just broke down into a fit of giggles. Her body hurt from the impact, but it was all worth it for the reaction she had extracted from Illyria. With some trouble, she stumbled back onto her feet. With the back of her hand, she wiped away some blood that was trickling down her mouth.

Harmony just stood there, eyeing the two women, and dropped her papers in sheer astonishment.

"That was it?" Lilah spoke, her voice dripping with new-found self-confidence. Though limping, she started to walk back to her attacker again. "I see now, why they required a Higher Power to come down and kill me. Demons, even you old ones, just don't have it in them. You just want to cop a feel-"

Her last sentence got cut off abruptly as Illyria placed an iron grip on her throat and started crushing her windpipe. While at first Lilah started hiccupping, it fast went over into something that resembled a weak fit of laughter. "You. Stupid. Bint," she spat. "I do. Not. Breathe."

This frustrated Illyria so much that she threw Lilah right through the iron doors of the elevator. And all Lilah could see was blackness.

"This scene raises some memories," Lilah spoke, as she walked into the dump of a bar Wesley was getting himself drunk. Only this time she had a cane, a split lip, and a lot of purplish bruises covering her body. Yet it didn't withheld her from wearing a skirt and heels. You only unlive once, so to say. Thanks to Wolfram & Hart regenerating her body as soon as possible, she was able to move on her own. Albeit with a lot of effort.

Wesley looked up into her eyes, and followed her as she sat down next to him. Clearly something that cost him some effort as well. He motioned for the waiter to bring another round. "If you've come here to complain about your injuries, I'm not in the mood," he spoke, and brought his glass to his lips.

She glanced briefly at the liquid she swirled around in her glass before returning her gaze to him. "I wanted to see if you were okay," she admitted reluctantly. It just pained her to watch him in pain, as if an invisible knife kept stabbing her in the heart, incomparable to the physical pain Illyria had caused her. Her gaze drifted away again as he remained unresponsive.

Her eyes shot up as she felt his hand enclosing hers. "How can I be okay if you refuse to shut that know-it-all mouth of yours." Was this sarcasm? She was sure that her fall down the elevator shaft had caused some serious brain damage. But the fact that the corners of his mouth curled up ever so slightly gave it all away.

"You're a real prick, you know that," she said affectionately, and thwarted his leg with her cane. He mocked feeling pain but it satisfied her none the less. His grasp on her hand tightened as he pulled her towards him.

"Yes, and you're a royal pain in the arse," he replied, mimicking her tone of voice. Maybe it was the smoke, clouding their visions. Or the scotch (and in Lilah's case, combined with morphine), softening their mental state. But when their lips collided, they shared the most intense kiss they had ever experienced. His hand entangled in her hair, pulling her in, wanting more of her, and she was willing to oblige.

Lilah smiled when they pulled apart. "Not to be unoriginal: But would you like to spend the night?" she asked, as she replayed this setting of two years ago in her head.

"I don't have to attempt choking you again, do I?" he asked mischievously, and corked an eyebrow at her. Not that it would be of any use, of course. I suppose that whole fantasy went down the drain instantly. He got up from his chair and helped her getting up, which she first wanted to decline, but what the hell.

She struggled to walk in a clear line, so she placed an arm around his back and he mirrored her movement. "Just hold me, okay?" she said, as they slowly progressed towards the exit. Regardless of the many times they have had steamy sex, this was probably the closest they had felt. And it made her realize how bad it had made him feel that she had been in a coma for a few days.

"I threw away the blue spray paint I found in your desk drawer."

That was like, the sweetest thing ever.

"Well, look what the vamp dragged in," Lilah drawled as she was faced with her former co-president of Special Projects.

"Lilah," Lindsay said curtly. Not all too happy to be facing her again.

"I always knew you had a knack for country, but you're really vibing Billy Ray Cyrus all over the place now. I really do hope that it was the Senior Partners idea of hell for you to sport that look. Because if it was your own idea, I'm seriously starting to doubt your state of mind."

He merely huffed at her statement. "I see you're taking some for the team these days," he said, eyeing the cane she was still using.

"Well, it's hard to top taking a dagger to the jugular, but I do what I can," she shrugged. Not that revealing Cordelia as the carrier of evil and/or bliss was anything compared to being beat up by a girl out of sheer selfish motives, but he needn't know more.

"Nice catching up with you," he said.

"Yeah, likewise."

Why couldn't he just die already?

So this apocalypse thing. Yeah, that was really coming. And if it had just been Lilah, being already dead and all, she wouldn't have worried about a thing at all. No, she'd have put her ambition into gear one and aimed for the position of CEO of Wolfram & Hart Los Angeles. But nooo, she had to become all fawning over some guy, so she actually cared about whether or not the good guys won. She actually, mind the phrase, wanted to contribute to it.

Speaking of the CEO of Wolfram & Hart; Angel was acting weird. Evil weird. And Lilah knew evil when she saw it. After all, it had been her profession for years. And his recent contact with members of the Circle of the Black Thorn only confirmed her thoughts.

So she stepped into his office when he was alone and activated the gem.

"What are you doing?" she asked demandingly.

Angel was still disorientated, scanning his surroundings for he knew something had changed. "You created a vacuum," he stated. "How did you manage?"

"Let's just say that I have a personal conflict with you endangering your employees. And to give you the benefit of the doubt I thought I'd keep the Senior Partners out of it. So, any interest in answering my first question?" she said, as they crossed glances.

He didn't know if he could trust her. Which kind of made sense. Her previous attempts of killing him didn't count in her advantage. "You're here because of Wesley." She simply nodded. "You want to protect him," he said. Obviously he didn't take this course of events into account. "I'm still good."

"I figured that out," Lilah said in return. "I'm just not sure how far you are willing to go for good. You see. If you die, I'm sort of next in line for an important position here, so this is not out of personal ambition. And if you don't tell me the gist in about…" she glanced at her watch "…45 seconds, I will do anything to ruin your contacts with the Circle of the Black Thorn. So go."

"I'm infiltrating." He knew she needed more to go on than that, didn't he? "They need me to think I'm one of them, so I did some things I'm not proud of."

"Hey, greater good, huh?" Lilah pitched in.

"It's not that simple!" he blurted out, infuriated that she was degrading his plan. "I need some more time. Gunn, Wesley, Lorne, Spike, they need me to think I am betraying them, otherwise the Circle will know. The Senior Partners will know! I beg you, Lilah, do not interfere."

The vacuum dissolved, they both felt it.

"You have my word," Lilah said. "And I'll show you that neat trick I pulled. It might come in handy."

He watched her exit the room, and give Hamilton, who was just waiting outside the door, a meaningful look. That man was clearly not fond of her, which added a little more confidence in Lilah for Angel. But for now, he had to play the bad guy. "Marcus!" he greeted him cheerfully. "Close the door. Don't want anyone eavesdropping now, do we…"

"I'm taking you out," Wesley smiled, as he opened the door of his office.

"You're going to die, aren't you?" Lilah replied, as she continued to stack the files on his desk. She was trying to sound as indifferent as she could possibly be, but she feared Wes knew her well enough to see through.

He silently walked up to her and took the files from her hands. And with one look he confirmed her greatest fear. "There is a chance I might not survive," he spoke, and she could feel his fear, but also a funny sense of relief. Which was completely alien to her. "This is the only opportunity I've had in life to make a stand, make a difference. I don't expect you to understand…"

Lilah groaned at his words and tried to shove him. "Wesley! Making stands is for dumb people! Smart people run and hide! And survive most likely. People aren't building hide-outs for no reason. They're not building stands!"

He grasped her hands into his and pulled her close to him. "Just go with my plan for today. It will all be okay," he said huskily, and planted a his lips on hers. She was reluctant first, but gave in to him after a few seconds. Besides, she knew she couldn't stop him from killing himself, she might as well fully enjoy these last moments.

So he took her out to the movies. One of the things they had never done in their shared history. And she was certain that his choice of 'The Butterfly Effect' was some sort of hidden agenda to prove his point about taking a stand and rippling the future or something. And, because she was bitter and still evil, she threw popcorn at the people in front of her, bucket and all, to chase them away. The darkness around them was quite the trigger for her to shamelessly make out with Wesley and thoroughly feel him up.

But the bastard wanted to go out and have dinner first.

He enjoyed this sweet torture. Instead of taking her to a high-ranked restaurant or some kind of see-and-be-seen bar he took her to a diner with godawful lighting at the bad side of town. If she hadn't looked dead already, in this light she certainly would be. "Nice joint," she remarked, her voice dripping with faux enthusiasm.

"Yes," he said, that self-glorifying smile still plastered on his face. "The reviews read it was 'very unique in its kind' and it has 'unforgettable dishes'," he mused, and looked at the menu on his placemat. PLACEMAT. How on God's earth did she get here?

"This is where you would like to spend maybe your last night on this plane of existence?" she asked, corking an eyebrow. "Because if you will not die from injuries caused by a powerful demon, this food just might. So I can think of at least a hundred better reasons for departure," she said, as she scanned the menu with a disgusted look on her face. The chair was quite sticky and she suddenly wondered if undead people could die of syphilis as well. Where was Darla when you needed her? Damn those separated circles of hell.

He just answered her comment with a smirk. It was as if he was enjoying her casual snark at life as if it may be the last time he'd witness it. And that didn't please her in the least. She had no intentions of this being the last time they'd be together. And certainly not this hellhole where food poisons breed and have little incurable poisonous offspring.

"We could just go to my flat and get drunk on that overpriced scotch you bought me for my birthday," he said, which sounded like a winning lottery ticket to Lilah. She didn't know how fast to put her coat, and watch him leave a tip for absolutely no reason, before dragging him out of this disgusting place. Even in death, Lilah still had high standards. Excluding diners.

But Wesley's apartment was very fit for the occasion. If the vibe was right she was getting, this may be her boyfriend's last day on earth, and they should at least make it memorable. And the fact that he had been able to grant her access outside of Wolfram & Hart was still exhilarating. The blue box of bore and doom was practically home to her.

"There is a reason I bend the rules to provide you access outside Wolfram & Hart," Wesley said, as he watched her exploring the room. It was as if she was seeing it for the first time.

"What? So I can take a plane to Honolulu and park my bikini-clad undead ass on a pearly white beach?" she asked, before twirling around to face him. "Not going to happen," she smiled, and sat down onto his bed.

"Hardly," he chuckled as he followed her into the bedroom. "Besides. I know it'd be useless. The last time I told you to go away you spend the following days cooped up in the sewers."

"And ultimately resulting in my premature death," Lilah added. She saw a flash of guilt flash across his eyes, but decided not to twist the knife any further. After she took off her shoes, she stood up and closed the gap between them, laying her arms around his neck. "You're not going to ask me to marry you, right?"

He half-smiled. "I'm not," he said. "Don't you think the circular scars around our necks are as much of an eternal statement as they get?" he asked, cocking an eyebrow. Her facial expression seemed to silently agree. "I just thought we needed some time without our shared employer's constant monitoring."

"I will sue their asses if any of those surveillance videos ever get viral," Lilah quickly retorted. "Unless," she said, trailing her finger from his collarbone to his chest, until she reached the first button of his shirt, "you've got a kink for that sort of thing. I mean," she flicked the first button open, "we did do it close to closet-girl, in front of Fred," third button, "and I'm pretty sure Angel and Spike's vampire hearing caught on to us a few times," she said cheekily, before ripping the rest of his shirt open.

He lifts her chin with a finger, as she traces the marks the many demons left on his chest, and captures her lips with his. He didn't want the scotch and cloud the memory that this night will leave, he just wanted her, intensely. And the way she answered his kiss was all the answer he needed. All the craving, wanton and affection they harboured for each other was poured into this moment, wanting it never to end, but they both knew it could.

With care he pushed her blouse off her shoulders, and it silently fell to the floor, joining the shirt he had discarded himself. She flinched as he touched the ugly scar the Beast had left on her stomach, and looked away. It was a constant reminder to her that she was not invincible, and that evil was real and not some abstract being she did business with. Yet it was also Wesley saving her from a fate of being another kind of undead being. And the moment that she should have told him that she loved him.

"Let it go," he murmured, as his lips attacked her neck. Her neck still had the faded outline of a scar Drusilla had left the night Angel had locked them in the cellar, and now that she was dead it would never fade completely. But she did try to let go, if now was all they had…

"We could have had it all," she whispered, her eyes closed as Wesley kissed a way down between her breasts to her stomach. And if she had been the emotional type, she'd cry, but she didn't. Meanwhile he had undone most of her clothes save for her bra and knickers. "Bed," she said as she felt her body still had some trouble standing without any support.

He got the hint and within a few seconds he scooped her up in his arms and laid her down on the cool sheets. Quickly he glanced at the black wooden walking-stick on the ground as he undid his buckle. "I should have supported Spike's idea of getting you a pimp cane," he smirked, as he joined her on the bed and covered her body with his.

"You'd be surprised of the powers of my cane…" she mused, and wiggled her eyebrows. "Besides," she said, eyeing the bulge in his boxers, "there's only one cane I have the desire on handling now," she said, as her hand travelled down between the two of them and past his waistband. He gasped audibly when she grasped his throbbing member and started stroking it. And he blessed himself for his self-control that moment.

If there had been a moment in time that he wanted to capsulate it was this: Lilah's wanting, lustful eyes drilling into his, her ministrations of his body making him going out of his mind. Oh, and God how he wanted her. She arched her body against his, pressing her breasts against his chest, making sounds that she wanted him to go on and stop dreaming. Because she did not want this to be their last time, but she feared he thought of it like that.

But she will not have it that way. She doesn't want sweat lovemaking because that would mean that they had finally set aside their differences, that it's all okay to let go. And she doesn't want him to let go. Well, not like that anyway. So she raked her nails down his back, leaving deep red marks and he hissed under her touch.

Surprised, yet aroused by her action he attacks her neck with his mouth, nipping and biting the skin hard enough to make her twinge, but light enough not to break the skin. His hands roam her body and with one of them he covers her right breast, pinching her nipple painfully through the fabric of her bra and she arches into him in response. Her mewls of pleasure are enough of a hint for him to undo himself of his boxers and she uses that break to undo herself of her remaining garments.

After frantically throwing away her underclothes, Lilah crawled onto Wesley and straddled his lap. She wanted to move things on but he placed his hands on her hips to stop her, and just stared right into her eyes. Blue eyes met grey, with both a strange mix of desperation and lust in them, and a hint of love both parties weren't willing to admit right now because it would only cause heartbreak. He put a few strands of hair behind her ear, as a loving gesture, and her heart did almost shatter.


"Shhh," he interrupted her softly. No talking. No talking was better. With a swift motion he flipped them back over again, and captured her lips, saying all that needed to be said without using actual words. Then he pushed forward and all was good. 'Actively uniting the forces of good and evil' crossed her mind again, and she would have cracked a smile if the situation hadn't been so sad she wanted to cry.

She thrust her hips up, meeting his rhythm, wanting to feel anything else than the cold emptiness that dawned on her. This was what it should be; Just the two of them, in his flat, making love to each other. Damn Illyria and her goddamn loss of the ability to freeze time. Finally she had found an opportunity that it could come of use, and it couldn't.

But before she could think any further, she shattered around him, her mind invaded with a serene sense of bliss because of her release and just him in his arms. He followed only seconds after her, supporting himself on his elbows not to crush her. Not that she actually had active lungs to crush, but who thinks about that in pleasant post-coital numbness?

He rolled off her and pulled her tightly against him. Lilah snuggled against him and pulled the covers over them. Talking would be good now, in a way, were her first thoughts. But she didn't know what to say and merely started to trace the scars on his chest with her index-finger. She always traced the same pattern, it was a reassurance: that it was her Wesley, and not some figment of her imagination.

"Don't leave me," she said absentminded, without looking at him.

Yet he never answered. Because all went black.

Lilah was awakened by someone knocking on the door. Well, it wasn't so much knocking but more of a sound as if someone was trying to drive an axe through something wood-y. Her vision was a bit blurred, but she could make up the white walls in the small room, and she was laying – completely dressed – on a matrass facing the door. And there were bars in front of the door.

That fucking bastard locked her in the cupboard.

If he wasn't dead already, she was going to kill him dead.

And it seemed her hearing wasn't impaired because right that moment an axe actually went through the place where the lock on the door used to be, and someone started to open it. Quickly, Lilah got up on her feet and raised her cane in defence. My God, she must've looked fucking ridiculous. Yet a cane was a better weapon than, say, a bucket.

"Cordelia Chase?" she said. Lilah didn't really know if she should be glad or suspicious by this turn of events. "Well, I'll be damned," she muttered, and lowered her cane a little. "Aren't you supposed to be up there in the clouds, playing a harp or something."

Cordelia huffed at her statement, and smirked a little, while she crushed the locks on the barred door in between them. "What's with the clichés? I don't see horns sprouting out of your head either," she said, letting out a triumphant shriek as she got the last lock and opened the other door as well.

"Not to be ungrateful: But what the hell are you doing here?" Lilah said as she got out of the closet/cell. She hadn't been drugged, and if she had she wasn't feeling any aftereffects. It was getting dark outside, but she couldn't have been passed out for that long.

Cordelia sighed and crossed her arms across her chest. "Well there's this thing about all my friends possibly getting themselves killed today," she injected, and Lilah's attention was instantly drawn away from the window to the other brunette. "And you might be able to save one of them."

"And you expect me to give into your wishes because of, what?, the goodness of my heart?" Lilah mocked her. At this moment, she was just pissed off that Wesley had locked her away and some do-gooder from heaven of all places had to set her free.

The other woman looked anything but impressed. "Let me break it down for you real fast, 'cause there isn't a lot of time. Evil's not the only thing with a Home Office on earth, I've been monitoring everyone at Wolfram & Hart, I know what's going on between you and Wesley. But I'm not corporeal, I can only touch objects, and not able to interact with any of my friends because of some of the PTB's terms. But I can with you because they know we hate each other's guts. But I also know you care for Wesley so go to Vail's lair and do what you can. You're selfish, dead and evil and absolutely no warrior, but you're my only shot at saving one of my friends. So stop questioning me and just go!"

Apparently real-life angels were anything but serene. More persistent, bitchy motherfuckers.

"Vail, you say?" she asked, when her emotions had calmed inside of her. She had put her game face on, as if this was going to be just another day at work. Her reflection stared back at her from the mirror on Wesley's clothes cabinet. She looked at herself briefly: Clean white blouse, black working slacks and three-inch black heels. No, there was not a warrior staring back at her. But a woman with who was afraid of losing her world and her lover. And shouldn't that be even empowering?

Cordelia appeared behind her and laid an incorporeal hand on her shoulder, and Lilah secretly wished it felt as comforting as it looked, but she kept a straight face. "This is absolutely insane," she stated blankly. Yet she took a firmer grip on her cane, as to gather all of the courage she had in her being and turned for the door.

Lilah and Cordelia exchanged one last meaningful look; Cordelia's calming and encouraging brown ones giving Lilah's uncertain, fearful grey ones the last push. They did not talk but the silence was needed to calm Lilah's train of thoughts.

Without any more words Lilah left, heading out to 'Save the day'. Oh, how life could be cruel and ironic.

Must be one of those terrifying jokes hell pulled on her.


It had been the situation he had obviously trying to avoid: dangling in the air by some super powerful magic force and helplessly bleeding from the gut. It's safe to say that he had felt better. Vail was circling him, predatory look in his eyes. Wesley tried to move, but the best his body could do was twitching. And it wasn't impressing Vail at all.

Wesley felt the power source crawling through his body, towards his hand. Vail was closing in on him, ready to give him the final blow. "It was nice meeting you, Mister Wyndham-Price," he croaked, as he raised one of his hands, his yellow eyes looking at him with a serene sense of victory in them. Wesley felt empty, defeated, but not willing to give up, this was the end of his life, and he couldn't take Vail with him. So he closed his eyes… and felt specks of warm blood hitting him in the face?

He opened his eyes fast enough to watch Vail crumble onto the ground, black wooden stick driven right through the back of his skull and exiting out of his left eye. Behind him was Lilah, a mix of shock, bloodlust and worry flashed across her face. The spell Vail had used to keep Wesley in the air was lifted, and he fell onto the ground.

"Wesley," Lilah said, and hurried to him, cradling his head into her lap. She tried to avoid looking at the gaping wound on his stomach. It was fatal, she couldn't deny it. He had started laughing! Why was he laughing? This was the absolute opposite of funny.

"You helped save the world," he said, still chuckling. And gurgling up some blood. "Again," he added. Obvious delirium, Vail must've struck his funny-bone. "You're the worst evil lawyer I ever did seen."

"Shut up," Lilah said, repressing the urge to smack him. She moved slightly under him, so she could apply pressure to the wound, even though she knew it'd be useless in the long run. "I was first with the whole 'mortal gut-wound'-thing, you know. I should sue," she mocked him back, as she lovingly stroked his hair. And blinked some tears back. She couldn't cope with this, it was too much.

He chuckled, as much as he could, at her comment. His body felt less and less powerful by the second, and the warm blood trickling from the wound down his stomach wasn't really helping. He watched her closely as she spoke, and saw the change in her face. "Don't be sad. Besides. You left me first," he accused her, feeling light in the head.

"I didn't choose to die!" she hissed angrily. Be she couldn't be mad at him now, she'd scold at his grave in the future, if that would be at all possible. His blood was gushing out of the wound now, the pressure she was applying wasn't any good anymore. "Don't leave me," she said, the only coherent sentence her brain was able to come up with.

He reached out and grabbed the collar of her shirt, and motioned her down with a weak pull. She brought her lips down to his, and he stained her cheek with his blood as he cupped her chin. Yet in the back of her mind she knew that her she would not give him back life with her undead breath, but the moment was all that counted, and they took it.

"I won't leave you," he coughed, as she pulled back.

"Wesley!" she said loudly, as his blue orbs had lost the shine in them. "WES!" she yelled, and shook him lightly by the shoulders. But she knew it was useless. An awkward calmness spread inside of her, yet her breathing was still coming up in hiccups. She reached her bloodstained hand out and closed his eyes with care. She kissed his temple and stumbled onto her feet.

And then she felt the vile creep up in her throat and she fell to the cold stone underneath her knees and spilled her guts out.

With a new-found determination she got back to her feet again. Cold and empty and more dead inside than she had ever felt, even when she had taken lives, this darkness had never whirled inside her before. She put her foot onto Vail's corpse and extracted her cane with a sickening sound from his skull. There was one last thing she wanted to do for him.

The rain was pouring when she set foot into the alley. Her hair was sticking to her head from the water, yet the blood refused to leave the cotton of her blouse. She limped towards the remaining members of the team, her cane making a clicking sound onto the pavement. Angel and Spike turned around, their vampire hearing alarming them of someone approaching.

"Wesley is dead," Lilah spoke emotionless. She watched Gunn and Angel's reaction, the loss of one of their oldest friends etched across their face. Even Illyria made some kind of head-movement that she suspected indicated some sort of sorrow.

"Thank you. For the heads up," Spike said. Lilah almost burst out into laughter for the ridiculousness of this head-related comment, and if this had been just another day at the office, she would have. But now, she just curtly nodded.

"Where are you going?" Gunn said, as she turned to leave.

"Not my fight," she concluded, as she heard the rumbling coming from afar. "I've lost enough," she said, barely audible, and she was glad the heavy rain was masking the tears welling up in her eyes. "But best of luck to you all!" she said, more loudly, and held up her thumb in mock succession.

And she disappeared in the rain and the dark, as the rumbling turned into voices and screams and thundering footsteps. She had enough hell to deal with on her own.

"Afternoon Miss Morgan!" her assistant greeted her. Hell had dawned on Los Angeles for at least a week now, and Lilah had been promoted. With Team Angel either gone, dead or missing, someone had to rule the Wolfram & Hart Los Angeles branch. And Lilah had grasped the new opportunity with both hands. What better way to drown your sorrow than to dive into your work?

She settled down behind her desk when Mona, her assistant, came barging in. "I'm sorry for coming in unannounced, Miss Morgan," she said fearfully, at the sight of Lilah's look-of-doom. "But the Senior Partners appointed a new Head of Use and Misuse of Ancient Artefacts and I think you sh-"

"Lilah," a recognisable voice came from behind the doors. Mona decided that it was her cue to leave if she wanted to keep her unlife safe. Lilah's jaw dropped, and she was absolutely unable to move as she saw Wesley enter her office and closing the door.

"How? What? How?" was the only thing she was able to say as emotions awaked in her she had been able to bury deep inside of her. She could tell he was experiencing something alike as he walked silently towards her.

Without speaking he lifted his shirt, non-erotically, showing the wound. "Perpetuity clause," he said, as if that explained it all. She knew that Angel had made a deal that his people didn't have those in their contracts. "I had it put in my contract, I intended to tell you, but I didn't know if Wolfram & Hart would keep up their end of the bargain."

Her logical mind took over from her emotional side. And she was still suspicious of his sudden appearance. "You overthrew the circle of the Black Thorn, and they allowed you back here. How do I know you're not some kind of sick mind-trick Hell is pulling on me?" she asked, corking an eyebrow at him.

"As it seems," Wesley said, in that thoughtful tone of voice, "the Circle had some plans to overthrow Wolfram & Hart, for they had lost confidence in them after appointing Angel. Apparently Hell is convinced I was fighting for their cause. And with Angel, Spike, Illyria and Gunn still unknown statuses, they thought it'd be best to have some inside information at their advantage."

Lilah was just staring at him in awe. Much like he had when she had come back from the dead a year and a half ago. When she had nearly laughed at him in the face for not believing her. Suddenly a file appeared onto her desk with a yellow post-it on top of it that read 'He's telling the truth! Love, Mona'. "Damn assistants and their vampire hearing," she mumbled under her voice.

She looked up again and Wesley was leaning against the desk right beside her. "Are you over yourself?" he asked.

She nodded, as emotions started to take over. "Are you shutting up and kissing me?"

That was all the encouragement he needed to pull her out of her chair and crash his lips down on hers.

Who said there wasn't a happily ever afterlife?