*****

"Ok, I need Xander, Oz, Gunn, Angel and Buffy front and center!" Cordelia bellowed as she paced the lobby. "As in RIGHT NOW!"

Five bodies flew down the stairs, narrowly avoiding running into each other. Xander leapt over Angel's head, brushing his sandals through red-tipped hair as he vaulted down the stairwell. On his way down, he ricocheted off the banister and back-flipped over the sofa, landing right at Cordelia's feet. "You called, Madame?"

Cordelia ignored the Raphe's antics, continuing her rapid movements. "Oz, the shop called. Your van is dead. One hundred percent, bona fide, no way in hell can they fix it dead. And by the way, they want to know how you managed to get the muffler for an ancient Nissan Sentra to work on the damned thing anyway."

Oz plodded down the stairs and leaned on the sofa. His beloved van was dead. It had lasted far longer than he'd expected, mostly because it hadn't gotten much use by Buffy while he was on the road with Angel. That didn't really matter at the moment; he was in mourning. "Oh, get out off it and go down there to deal with getting rid of the thing," Cordelia snapped. "At least now Xander can talk you into something remotely cool."

"Like a Miata!" Xander said with a leer. He'd been ogling the newest Miatas for months. They were just what he wanted; fast, sexy, and small enough to make fucking acrobatic. Oz made his way out of the lobby, heading for Xander's car. He needed some time alone to mourn the death of an old friend. Then maybe he'd find something... younger to drive.

"Speaking of Xander," Cordelia continued, "Siobhan decided that the lower three feet of the north wall of the library needed to be painted brown, specifically Hershey's Syrup brown. You're the one she listens to, not me, so I figure you're the one responsible for letting her think that foodstuffs made good paint. Go fix it."

"But--" Xander began.

"No buts," Cordelia snarled. "I'd get started before the shit dries or molds. Or both." Xander glared and slunk off to find Siobhan. If he was going to be stuck cleaning the mess up, she was helping. Perhaps it was time for her to learn the value of discretion.

Gunn began to relax. Cordelia must've only wanted him downstairs to witness Xander's punishment. He approached his wife, only to find himself backed against a wall. "And who, if I might ask, used our credit card to order 'Hot Persian Girls on the Beach'?" She growled, poking Gunn in the chest with each word.

"Not me!" Gunn denied frantically. "Delia, you know I don't go for that stuff!"

She hissed and pulled a compact computer display out of a pocket. "Yeah? Then why is *your* verification number the one next to the $900 dollar charge?"

Angel and Buffy held back their laughter. Chances were, it was a mistake or some form of credit card fraud, but the show was priceless. "You think she'll pitch him out of bed?" Buffy asked Angel in a whisper.

"Buffy? One of your oh-so-precious clients called. That extermination job you and Dawn did on Mrs. Phaldier's mansion didn't take and now she's overrun with those vole demons again. She was threatening to call the Better Business Bureau, so I promised you'd go back and finish the job--and give her a refund."

The Slayer imitated a fish for several seconds. She was about to protest when Cordelia began to glare. Shortly thereafter, Buffy returned upstairs to find Dawn and get over to Mrs. Phaldier's home. Meanwhile, Angel tried to blend into the woodwork, hoping that Cordelia would forget about him. "Not so fast, Fangy," Cordelia said to the dark vampire. "I had a vision. You need to take some extra hands down to Saks 5th Avenue and rescue Antonio Banderas from a succubus."

"I'll get right on it," Angel murmured as he pushed off the wall. Perhaps Wil would be interested in making a little shopping excursion, and maybe even see a movie star while they were at it. He left Gunn and Cordelia in the lobby, where the seer was in the process of verbally eviscerating her mate. Angel couldn't help but agree with the woman; Gunn was in all likelihood responsible for the misuse of their credit card, since he was the one with the propensity for using it at questionable establishments. The vampire knew that he wasn't always the most observant of shoppers, but even he knew better than to use his and Wil's credit cards at the seedy internet shops where they bought their magickal supplies. Places like that were sure to abuse their financial information.

Angel found Wil in their office, bent over a sheet of drafting paper. The blonde vampire was concentrating intently on whatever he was doing, lower lip caught between blunt human teeth. A single vertical worry line marred the eternally young man's forehead, accentuating a fierce glare. A single mechanical pencil tapped rapidly on the desk, lead long since broken off. Angel could see that Wil had been working hard on something--a project which had him frustrated. "Busy?" Angel asked as he leaned against the doorframe.

"What?" Wil murmured, not looking up from the paper. He used the pencil to erase a mark, trying to replace it with another. A soft curse followed the vampire's realization that he needed to add lead to his pencil. "Damnit," He cursed, throwing the pencil down. "What do you want?" He inquired shortly, glaring at his lover.

"Cordelia had a vision. I just thought you might want to get out," Angel replied. "But I can see you're otherwise occupied. I'll go ask Wesley or Fred."

Wil shook his head. "No, I'll go. Besides, Fred and Wesley are at the courthouse, trying to get that summons straightened out. And, I do need to get out of here. This," He said, waving his hand over the paper, "Is going to be my final death."

Angel stepped forward to study the paper. "Ah, so you're who Cordelia got to design the cubs' new rooms."

"Yes," Wil conceded. "But I'm no architect."

"You'll do fine," Angel murmured.

"Who's neck are we saving tonight?" Wil asked. Lately Cordelia's and Xander's visions had been relatively simple ones. Many had been quite difficult, but the victims were unconnected, the events isolated and not indicative of any greater problem in the city. That didn't mean that the investigative firm was suffering from a lack of business, or that the city was enjoying a relatively peaceful time; quite the opposite. The two years that had passed since the downfall of Wolfram & Hart had seen an almost exponential increase in their clientele. Some of it had been random violence--the same things they'd always had. They'd recently noticed an increase in certain types of activities, mostly extortion schemes and drug dealing. They weren't sure yet what it meant and there didn't seem to be a connection to the visions, so they were still in the dark as to whether there was someone vying for Wolfram & Hart's position as prime-evil.

As it turned out, Wolfram & Hart had been one of the city's resources for getting rid of non-human problems. Yes, the law firm had been evil. But for enough money, they'd get rid of other bad things, and some people had lots of cash and a willingness not to ask difficult questions. Now that Wolfram & Hart was gone, all those clients came to Angel Investigations. They'd even begun turning away people and for the first time found that they had the luxury to choose only clients they felt they really were helping--and who weren't also hurting others. Gone were the days of helping slightly seedy guys with vengeance wraiths on their tails.

"Tonight we're saving famous neck," Angel replied easily. "Antonio Banderas."

Wil snorted. "We're saving has-been, washed-up neck that's still pining over his equally has-been, washed-up ex-wife," The blonde commented. "What'd he do, attract a succubus?"

"Right in one," Angel said. "At Saks 5th Avenue."

"What does Cordelia want us to pick up while we're there?" Wil inquired as he grabbed a few weapons and strapped them onto his arms and ankles. He also found and pocketed an amulet designed to protect against succubi. It just wouldn't do for the rescuers to go lusting after the bad guys.

"She didn't ask for anything," Angel commented. "She was too busy chewing Gunn out."

"What'd he do this time?" Wil asked absently. Angel held open the door as he and Wil strolled out of the office and towards the stairs.

"Somehow he managed to let their credit card information get out and now they've got a huge charge for some sex service," Angel told the blonde. "She's really giving him what-for."

"He deserves it. That was sloppy," Wil said. They glanced down over the rail and saw that Cordelia and Gunn were still at it, although now Gunn was screaming just as loudly as his wife. "They're not going to stop anytime soon, are they?"

"No," Angel replied. "Let's go down the back way; you left your car parked over there."

Wil nodded and led Angel out of the hotel. Soon they were on their way to the ritzy department store, determined to save some aging star from embarrassing himself and ending up on the cover of a supermarket rag.

Angel and Wil pretended to shop as they scanned the store. It took about ten seconds to locate their target. The actor was chatting up a pretty woman in the perfume area. Wil saw right through the succubus' disguise; the overwhelming pheromone cloud following her around was a dead giveaway. "You distract the has-been while I get the demon?" Wil asked Angel as they neared the couple.

"Works for me," Angel murmured. "Watch out for cameras."

Wil skirted around the perfume counter, deftly avoiding a lady wielding a sprayer full of someone's latest efforts to recreate the scent of sex without its accompanying body odors. He watched as Angel performed an Oscar-worthy imitation of a bumbling fan, complete with paper and pencil out for an autograph. The actor was annoyed but gracious, particularly since Angel showered the praise on thickly. Wil was surprised to hear how many of Banderas' works Angel recognized.

The succubus was about to interrupt Angel's show when Wil got right behind her. The knife he pressed between her ribs effectively silenced the demon and he began to talk, low and casually enough to make passers-by think they were simply friends conversing. "Now, it just wouldn't do to make a scene here, hmm?" He murmured as he walked her away. "Why don't we chat somewhere more... cozy. I've got a proposition for you. Very lucrative."

The succubus nodded and followed Wil's lead. She tried to turn on the charm and lure him in, but the amulet protected him from the demon's efforts. As soon as they were outside, he got her into an alley and slit her throat. The succubus hadn't fought him at all, something that confused Wil. She should've put up a fight, but instead she'd acted like she'd actually trusted him to not hurt her. He turned around to fetch Angel, only to see a carload of vampires speed away. He caught the license number and returned to where he'd left Angel mooning over Antonio Banderas.

"Finished?" Angel asked as Wil joined him at a display of casual slacks. "That was quick."

"She didn't put up a fight," Wil whispered.

"Really?" The dark vampire inquired, shocked. "That's..."

"And there was a car load full of vampires. They left right after I got rid of her," Wil told him. "It might not be anything, but..."

Angel nodded, understanding where Wil's mind was headed. This might be evidence pointing to an organized evil in Los Angeles--or it could be nothing more than a guy needing help. "Let's get out of here," He said in a low voice.

"Why the hurry?" Wil asked as they rushed out the door.

"Banderas was very impressed that I'd seen 'Mujeres Al Borde De Un Ataque De Nervios,'" Angel whispered. "I got invited over for drinks."

"You don't sound nearly as excited as you should," Wil said lightly. "One might think that you weren't looking forward to the tete a tete."

Angel growled and urged Wil along. "I'd rather bed a rabid camel."

"Somehow I feel offended," Wil muttered. "I've been compared, unfavorably at that, to a rabid dromedary."

"No," Angel growled, shoving Wil into the car. "I wasn't comparing you to a rabid camel. I was simply saying that Antonio Banderas' company is less appealing than that of a rabid camel."

"And you've spent significant amounts of time with terminally ill beasts of burden?" Wil inquired hotly. "And furthermore, you engaged in sexual congress with them, that you would know how favorably the act compares to that of spending time alone with an aging actor?"

"I haven't fucked a camel, rabid or healthy," Angel said, growling.

"But still, you thought about bedding a camel first, when presented with the spectre of Antonio Banderas," Wil reasoned.

Angel started the car and peeled out, leaving black rubber streaks on the pavement. "No, I didn't think of you when he propositioned me," The dark vampire admitted bitterly. "You didn't even cross my mind."

Wil hid his hurt. He'd just been playing with Angel, but it seemed as though his lover hadn't picked that up. They'd known each other intimately, in every sense, for a very long time. That didn't mean they didn't occasionally cross wires.

Angel stopped abruptly as a streetlight changed. "But do you know why, Wil?"

Wil said nothing.

"I didn't think of you because the entire situation was so unpleasant and distasteful that it was all I could do to keep from throwing up, and you know damned well how difficult it is to make a vampire nauseous. The camel thing kept me from retching and ruining the entire thing!" The more he spoke, the louder his voice got. He couldn't believe that Wil was offended. They'd gotten over their insecurities long ago. After all, if living with Buffy didn't make either of them basket cases and poster children for second-guessing, what could? "You know, Will, that you're the only person I love. The only one I take to my bed, the only one whose body I touch, or let touch mine. How can you think anything else? Did I do something to make you doubt me?"

The more Angel yelled the further down into his seat Wil slid. The blonde felt distinctly foolish, growing more so with every passing second. He prided himself on his sharp mind and keen ability to discern the truth in complicated situations. Apparently those vaunted skills had failed him. He had no idea why Angel had exploded.

"Please, Wil. Tell me what I've done!" Angel demanded as he parked them at the hotel. Wil glanced up, surprised that they'd reached home. He'd been so lost in the miasma of a mess he'd created that he'd missed the passing miles--and most of Angel's ranting. Angel was staring hard at him, willing the younger vampire to say something.

Wil looked over at Angel, who towered over him. The blonde sat up slowly, picking his body up out of the footwell. "Er, Angel?"

"Yes?" Angel said desperately.

"The camel thing?" Wil whispered. "I was kidding."

Angel's jaw dropped. Kidding? Wil had been *joking* about his anger at the camel comment? The dark vampire took a deep breath, preparing to lay into Wil. Then he stopped cold. What was he going to say? How dare his lover wind him up like that and let him rave like a fool? That worked, so Angel began again. Once again, he stopped. This time his pause was because Wil looked so worried, so hurt, like he'd been subjected to some horrible torture. Why did he... "Oh," Angel murmured. Well, he *had* just spent the last half-hour tearing strips off the blonde's back with his admittedly vitriolic words. And all because he hadn't caught onto Wil's sense of humor at play. He'd been joking about the camel.

Wil frowned as Angel began to laugh. "Angel?" He said quietly, worried that something even more serious was going on. "Ah..."

Angel reached over and pulled Wil into his lap. The blonde's mouth opened to speak, but Angel stopped him with a kiss, one that began as a simple peck but soon turned into a slow, smooth apology. Angel begged forgiveness with gentle strokes of his tongue, caressing and repenting along Wil's lips. Wil accepted graciously and pleaded in return for Angel to forgive his misguided humor.

Angel, consumed utterly by his childe's familiar but always exotic taste, didn't notice where they were until a sharp knock rattled the driver's side window. Cordelia was standing there, a child balanced on one hip. The other held a can of spray paint, which was what had hit the window. "Get your asses inside if you're gonna do that!" She yelled through the window. "And which one of you assholes taught Fran how to take the cap off a can of paint?"

*****
Part 2:

Oz cringed as a ceramic coffee mug struck the lobby floor and broke with a resounding crash. Shouted invectives followed the cup's demise. It sounded as though Willow and Dawn's relationship was once again in the 'off' part of 'on again, off again'. The two women kept everyone entertained and/or horrified by their bickering--friends, clients and guests. He wondered what had set them off this time. Normally, it was either sex, partying, magick, the direction and force of the wind, whether or not there was fresh milk in the icebox...

"Three guesses," Xander said as he snuck into the office. Oz ignored him for a moment while the werewolf flicked through a state database. Xander waited patiently as his lover's hands drifted through the thready, cold-gas display.

"The red dress," Oz murmured, referring to the rather flattering but slinky silk number Dawn had gotten for cocktail parties and flirting.

"Nope," Xander replied quickly. "Not even close."

Oz pulled some data from the state website and shoved it into Fred's hard drive. "Did Dawn call Willow her lover in public?"

"Not recently," Xander said. "One more guess. And you're still cold."

The werewolf sat back from his work, flipping off the screen. "Willow forgot their anniversary."

"Bing! Bing! Bing! Tell 'em what he's won, Monty!" Xander crowed, rocking back in his chair. "It was Dawn, on the second floor landing, with the 'I love Wahoo' coffee mug--filled with brandy."

"The Wahoo mug?" Oz murmured sorrowfully. He'd really *liked* the Wahoo mug. For the second time in as many days, he'd suffered the loss of something dear to him. First his van, now his mug.

"Yep, the Wahoo mug. Sorry, Oz--I tried to catch it, but between the yelling and the cubs... well, I missed," Xander said apologetically.

"It's ok," Oz replied. "I found some stuff on Wil and Angel's succubus." Xander nodded and rose to find the vampires. They'd all been mildly curious about the case, mostly because it wasn't what they were used to getting these days. The succubus hadn't fought at all, and then there was that carload of vampires... It was, in all likelihood, nothing. Still, even after two years of rest from the complex machinations of Wolfram & Hart, they couldn't quite shake their 'conspiracy theory' mindset.

Xander found Angel and Wil in the cubs' room, giving the five children a stern lecture on proper behavior. The cubs actually seemed to be listening, which surprised Xander a little. He realized that it shouldn't have, however. After all, the two leaders of their family were giving the lecture together, which meant that the two leaders of the cubs were making sure their siblings listened.

And Angel and Wil were indeed the leaders of their group, or in Oz's terminology, the alphas. Yes, Oz was the undisputed alpha of his pack, but Angel and Wil were the alphas of the larger family. Out of respect for Oz's authority, they often deferred to him on pack matters. They also left the discipline of the children to Cordelia and Gunn--most of the time. Occasionally, though, the vampires stepped in, although it was usually after Oz, Cordelia or Gunn asked them to.

It had taken Xander a long time to accept Angel and Wil's leadership. Oh, he never really fought with them, or acted out in a manner suggestive of a power struggle. He didn't want to be leader, not at all. In the course of the thirteen or so years he'd been in close contact with the vampires, he'd generally lived without complaint under their rule. That didn't mean he always liked it. How could he, when he'd spent so long hating both Angel--souled and unsouled--and Spike?

Only after years of working with the vampires did Xander overcome his habitual urge to dislike the vampires and really start to think of them as family. That, too, helped Xander adjust to working under them. Dawn had told him that it was a pretty common psychological technique for gaining obedience; if subordinates felt that their bosses had an emotional attachment to them, they were more likely to fall into line. Xander had to admit that it was true; he now liked the fact that Angel Investigations--and Eos Investigations--made up one big family. Granted, it was a strange family, but a functional one nevertheless.

Angel and Wil were without question the patriarchs. They were the stable foundation of the hotel, bringing between them nearly 500 years of life experience, both good and evil. Xander knew that most of the others were loathe to admit it, but they all held the vampires' relationship up as an ideal to strive for. The two did have their arguments and disagreements, but the strength of the love between them, and its equality and purity, made for a heady combination. Xander was very glad the pair weren't given to sappy displays, because he'd gag from the concentration of saccharine it would entail.

Wesley and Lorne seemed to fill the position of younger brothers to the two vampires. Their maturity relative to the others was the bulk of why they were in that place. Fred and Buffy, then, matched them as younger but still adult sisters. Buffy and Lorne were both afforded extra status because they ran their own businesses. Yes, Caritas was located in the hotel, but it was separate from the investigative firms. While Eos and Angel Investigative firms used the same facilities, they had somewhat separate staffs and working parameters. Angel Investigations did all the vision work, with some side endeavors, while Eos Investigations handled walk-in and contract clients. Both Buffy and Angel found the setup more conducive to their mutual aims, especially since their separate staffs often worked together.

Cordelia held the unique position of mother. She was the only female who had reproduced, and she'd done it in style. The five cubs were the light of the hotel, always filling it with curious, exuberant energy. She'd taken to the maternal role with gusto and it often overflowed into the others' lives. As a result, she was usually the one ordering them around, telling them where to go and whatnot. Mostly the others humored her, not wanting to do the ordering themselves. Gunn fathered his children and made sure they kept a healthy connection to the outside world, having found another generation of vampire hunters in his old neighborhood when he'd returned. They seemed to be more open to working with the investigators, so most of Gunn's time was taken up with that.

Xander knew that he, Dawn, and Willow were considered the youngest of the adults, emotionally at least. He was given a bit of a status lift by being mated to Oz, and therefore being an honorary alpha in the pack, but in the end he was still one of the low-men. That didn't bother him too much--he couldn't let it. No one was going anywhere, he hoped at least, so moving around in the hotel's social structure wasn't going to happen.

In fact, only Willow seemed to have any difficulty adjusting to her place. She would've liked to have been given more... rank, but that wasn't going to happen. Most of the time she was ok with it, but occasionally she made a fuss. Buffy was the best at calming her down, typically dragging her out for a bit of slaying in a park somewhere. Xander worried, though, that she'd never get over her discontent.

He also worried about other things, primarily regarding time. The ravages of that particular evil were ignoring most of the hotel--with three notable exceptions, everyone in the place was immortal. What bothered Xander was that the three who were slowly dying were so damned close to him. Buffy was now so old for a Slayer that Watchers were popping in nearly daily to see her, eyes all wide and jaws hanging open. Dawn and Willow were also growing older, slowly reaching the point at which they wouldn't be young anymore. Xander knew he shouldn't let it bother him; after all, humans did that. They grew old and died.

However, he'd been in a unique group for so long that he'd forgotten how to deal with that kind of mortality. For a decade, he'd had to worry only about death by violence, accident, or maybe a rare illness. Now, though, he was faced with the eternal soldier, marching relentlessly. The only way he would die was if someone killed him, he killed himself, or an anvil fell from the heavens. Buffy, Dawn and Willow, should they escape such fates, would eventually grow frail and slow. Their memories would falter with their bodies, and he would have to throw handfuls of dirt on their caskets.

Xander realized just which morbid direction his thoughts were going in and shook himself out of it. While he was sure the cubs were truly fascinated by Angel and Wil's diatribe on why it wasn't good to redecorate the house with chocolate syrup and pink spray paint, the vampires were needed at work.

���

"Hey," Oz murmured as Wil and Angel sat down. Xander waved and left again, hoping that Wesley had left him some chocolate milk.

"What did you find?" Angel inquired, curious.

"That car you saw?" Oz said slowly. "It's registered to a Mrs. Doris Birvirym."

"Ah," Wil said. "Should we know her?"

"No one knows her," Oz replied. "Because she doesn't actually exist."

"Front?" Angel guessed. "For who?"

"Her name came up in the dummy bank account database that Fred built on the local color," Oz told the vampires. They'd been keeping track of anyone they thought might have an interest in starting an organized crime ring. So far they'd gotten a lot of little stuff, but nothing overwhelmingly useful.

"Who?" Wil asked. "Which one was it?"

"Vincenzo," Oz told them.

Angel frowned. "I didn't know we had a Vincenzo in the database."

"We didn't, not until last week," Oz confirmed. "We'd had him listed under Marka Bil, but that turned out to be his second. Dawn picked up the new information on one of their cases."

"Do we know anything more? Who this guy might be? What he's after?" Angel inquired.

Oz swiveled in his chair, pulling up some files. "The Watchers have some information, yes. Giles forwarded me an excerpt from a journal from the 30s. There is a Vincenzo that is the second-youngest master in the Order of Evmiri. He's not got much of a history, to be honest, just some minor savagery in Northern Italy around the turn of the century, and an extortion scheme in Berlin just before the War."

"Anything more recent?" Angel asked. "He has to have done something since then."

Oz shrugged. "Nothing to make it onto Watcher radar. I'm guessing you haven't heard of him then?"

Angel shook his head and glanced at Wil. The blonde vampire looked very troubled. "What?"

Wil bit his lip. "I might have met him before."

"Where?" Angel asked. "When?"

"I ran into an Evmiri in Athens, in 1952. Called himself Vince," Wil admitted. "We mostly avoided each other. Dru... intimidated him."

"Anything you could add to what we've got?" Oz asked the blonde.

Wil shrugged. "We weren't... well, we weren't friends, if that's what you're wondering. Like I said, Dru bothered him; back then I was a simple vampire--lots of blood simply got made me happy. It was a big city and there weren't many other vamps there at the time, so there was no reason for us to interact."

"I'll put some feelers out," Angel said as he stood. "See who's heard what about this Vincenzo, maybe of the Order of Evmiri." Oz nodded and returned to his computer while Angel and Wil left the office.

"Do you think it means anything?" Wil asked Angel as they wandered downstairs. He had his suspicions, but he wanted to hear them from Angel fist.

"Maybe," Angel admitted, holding the kitchen door open for Wil. "It's just too convenient, you know? A succubus, hitting on a famous, wealthy has-been--a succubus who doesn't freak out when we show up, even though succubi and vampires don't always get along... she even seemed compliant, you know? Then that car full of vampires outside--who take off like they've got hellhounds at their back when they see us."

"It's been two years since Wolfram & Hart," Wil commented. "Perhaps we've used up our free time." He opened the refrigerator and removed two containers of blood. "It has been very quiet here."

Angel sat down at the table, staring up at the ceiling. "Or maybe it's nothing."

"You'd like it to be nothing," Wil corrected. "As would I," He added before Angel could protest. "But knowing our luck..."

"Could you *not* bring that up?" Angel pleaded.

Wil grinned. "Fine, I won't bring up how often our collective lives get turned upside down."

"You're evil," Angel swore.

The blonde vampire placed a warm mug of blood in front of Angel, and then took a seat across the table. "Yes, but I'm getting better. The medicine certainly helps," Wil murmured over his meal.

"What medicine?" Angel asked lightly.

Wil just smiled.

*****