"Wesley, if that's you, you can turn around and go home." She said flatly, her voice in a perfect monotone. She didn't move, just looking towards the wall, at the collections of pictures there, at a framed dollar bill in front of her Stanford Law diploma.
He moved a little, seeing a bitter smile on her face as she continued to stare, seeming entranced with the green leaflet of paper, unable to see him in the glass. Her eyes wandered over, and she almost jumped when she saw the vampire.
"Jesus Christ. Here I was hoping for Judas and I got the devil himself." she drawled, her words only slightly slurred. She shook the glass in her hand, and started looking around for more booze.
It occurred to Angel, briefly, that this might not be the best time to have his 'don't attack my friends' talk with Lilah. He'd thought that now might be a good time, since he was all too eager to escape the aftermath of Fred's homicidal rampage that night. Looking at Lilah, though, made the vampire realize it wasn't a good time. She looked drunk; she probably was drunk, judging by the empty bottle of bourbon on the floor next to her. She was wearing a black silk robe, opened up just to reveal a long black gown underneath. This piqued his curiosity, and before he could stop himself,
"You sure look like you were expecting Wes." He said with no tone in his voice, careful not to sound sarcastic- for all he knew, she had a stake in her hand.
Lilah shot a look, then relaxed, though still on the defense.
"I like to sleep in silk. Always have." She sighed, standing up, holding the empty bottle in her hand. She made her way over to the stained cherry liquor cabinet, taking out two glasses.
"Scotch, right?" Angel wanted to say no, but after tonight, he could use some good scotch. Psychotic Fred did that to you. She usually, in her right, sober mind, would have thrown holy water on the vampire, but Lilah couldn't remember where it was, and in her drunken depression, found herself not minding some unhuman company.
"On the rocks." he watched her pour the drinks, looking around. The apartment reflected its owner, cold and bare, yet classy and decorated with a careful eye. He looked over at the pictures, surrounding the diploma and the dollar, saw pictures of a Lilah that no one, not even Wesley, he thought, knew. Dancing in a ballet, giving a younger girl a noogie. Sitting with her family.
"What, thought a cold bitch like me was thrown to the wolves as a baby?" she asked, handing him a drink.
Angel chuckled slightly.
"I've done my homework, Lilah. I've read up on you. Old money, from the East Coast. Took ballet, rode thoroughbreds-"
"I see Wesley's sold me out already." She cut him off, coldly.
Angel looked at the pain in her eyes, knowing that it would reflect his. Telling Cordelia that he couldn't answer her question had been the hardest thing he'd ever done, tonight. Well, almost. Second hardest. Hardest would be walking away from Buffy, one steaming June night as smoke hung thick in the air- it still couldn't hide her tears.
"Not exactly, Lilah."
"Can we just get this over with?" she asked, stepping out onto the balcony, looking up at the stars, shining so bright in the sky above. Stars had always fascinated her, ever since she was little and her father would take her out riding. She'd learned the constellations since she was six, could always find her favorites in an instant. She spied Cygnus, the swan, and looked at it with a sad smile. Wesley hadn't minded star-gazing with her. But then again, he probably was imagining she was Fred.
"If you like, I can come back, Lilah." Angel's voice was surprisingly gentle, of course it would be. Great, Lilah thought, on top of everything else, now a vampire with a fucking soul pities me.
"Angel, I'm drunk. You might want to take advantage of this fact and get what you can out of me before I sober up enough to remember where I put my crosses." she snapped back at him.
The vampire looked a little taken aback.
"Drunk, and yet you still can't loose that bitch persona." He looked at her, paused. He hated Lilah Morgan, hated the bitch until the day he died. He wanted to see her dead, yet...
She was still human. He could see it in her eyes. The very human pain reflected in his own, the human pain of being rejected, fully, completely. It made him feel sorry for her, this new side of Lilah Morgan. He remembered something odd he'd heard from Wesley once, when they were throwing blows at each other.
'The thing that's amazing about Lilah, is that she's so incredibly hard, mainly because she's soft.'
In a blink decision, Angel tried to switch tactics. Lilah was drunk, he was already on his second glass, and he'd always been curious about Wesley and Lilah's relationship.
"Helluva night, huh?" He looked at her. It caused her to crack a smile.
"You could say that." she looked back at him. She'd heard all about the anorexic's breakdown- and who she went to for help. Her smile vanished again, the brief happy of knowing the little bitch was probably in the same Hell she was, gone.
"So, tell me about it." Lilah's looked changed from one of... well, he didn't know what it was, but it sure wasn't the look she was giving him now.
Lilah was drunk, yes. Offended as Hell. Considering throwing her uninvited houseguest over the railing. But she was also hurting, nursing her wounds in a glass of scotch, and Angel was slowly becoming that bartender that hands you a light and says, 'Hard day? Wanna talk about it?' the one that you don't' mean to talk with, but you end up doing.
"I'll show you mine if you show me yours." She smirked, and he set out to pour them some more scotch.
"Ladies first."
* * *
They were laughing. They were laughing and not trying to kill each other and not holding back hatred by an inch. They were getting along, done with the scotch, onto the gin, and she'd never seen Angel laugh. It was kinda scary. She told him that, and they dissolved into giggles again.
"Yep, we're pissed." Angel looked at her, who was trying to stand up straight. She poured more glasses, the gin hitting mostly the table and not much in the glass. Anal Lilah, who threatened death earlier if Angel spilled anything on her carpet, laughed harder.
"To Higher being/ Amnesic girlfriends and Ex-watcher/ Bastard boyfriends." she toasted him. They tipped the glasses back, still on the balcony. They were sitting next to each other, Lilah kinda slumping over him. He looked at her, seeing this new Lilah that he'd seen glimpses of before. He knew what Wes meant, now. She was beautiful; Angel had known that for awhile. Her beauty was part of her deadliness, and Angel wasn't going to kiss her or anything, because that would be wrong.
He giggled at this thought, and Lilah giggled back. Suddenly, he stopped, asking her something she hadn't answered yet.
"Do you love Wesley?"he asked, suddenly direct and serious.
Lilah choked on her gin. "Jesus Christ, no! Not really. I don't believe in love." She held her head up high, suddenly losing her drunken cheer and softness, just like that.
"Why not? You buy him nice things, spare his friends from death, and you're obviously hurt by rejection." He looked at her, and the lawyer was curling up into a ball, like a hedgehog going into defensive mode.
"Cause. If I fall in love, it ruins everything, and trust me, I'm fighting whatever I feel with every weapon I've got, it's just... We're obsessed. I stalk, he stalks, and we end up in bed. Fucking at first, and now it's soft and nice, not so much about the hate. We're both down and out, and we both care, and it was supposed to just be all simple, and..." Lilah's eyes flashed with pain and anger as she threw her glass against the wall. She was angry, angry with him, herself for falling. She wanted to hate him again so bad, nothing was simple, she liked it back when it was simple, and god dammit, she was crying in front of her arch nemesis, who was staring at her like she'd just grown another head or five, and she was back to feeling like dying.
"You know, he cares too. He does, somewhere, I just... Lilah, he has to work through Fred, and he knew Lilah. He knew there would be an attack, I know it, I saw it all happen. He was waiting for it." He gently touched her arm. She didn't draw away, slightly put off by the cold fingertips and the sudden kindness from her mortal enemy.
"Then why the fuck did he help her?"She growled, not really angry at Angel, more at him and herself. The question stumped the vampire too. Chivalry, maybe, a dying chance in Hell to get her, possibly. Maybe he just did it to lure Fred to the dark side and to screw with Angel and Gunn- very possible.
He turned to explain this to the lawyer, whose head had fallen onto his knees. He looked at her carefully.
Great, she'd passed out.
"Okay, Ms. Morgan, too much drinks for you." He noted that Lilah was the first woman he'd met in a long time that could hold her liquor like that. He lifted her up, carrying her into the apartment, laying her on the couch. He found a blanket, covered her up, looking down on the strange woman he'd just spent the night counseling, and being counseled by. He didn't know why he did, it wasn't his job to, but still... he'd never seen Lilah Morgan as a human being until tonight. She was in more pain than he was, and she'd actually listened to him and Hell, she'd even reassured him, as he'd just done to her. Maybe he felt like he owed it to her.
He really hoped neither of them remembered this the next morning, he thought as he stumbled out. She probably wouldn't want to, and it would complicate things if, the next time it was Lilah tearing his family apart, he was still seeing her as the drunken, soft woman who still had some remnants of a soul left. He was so drunk, preoccupied with trying to explain to the crew where he'd been that night, that he didn't notice the figure that had been patiently standing under Lilah's balcony for the last, oh-
Wesley checked his watch. Seven hours. His head was reeling; his entire soul was reeling from what Lilah had just said. He was pissed as Hell, at her, for not telling him (That was why he was here, dammit!), and at Angel, not for being just the one she told but for someone else seeing her soft. That was something for him... and he wanted to see her soft so badly right now. He looked upstairs, realized no lights were on. He knew she slept with one light on, to keep her safe. He made his way up the stairs, opened the door, and stopped himself from flipping on the light.
He looked over at her, her face peaceful, her hair mussed after a night of drowning her sorrows. He sat down next to her- she was breathing shallowly. He knew she'd had enough alcohol to cause some serious damage, and he stopped, looked at her, and sat down in the black leather armchair to watch her.
Yes, he knew he was reaching, he'd seen Lilah much drunker and she breathed shallowly when she slept, but he wanted a reason, any reason, to stay and watch her sleep and sort things out in his mind, which was loud and crazy, alive with thoughts. He felt for Fred still, yes, but he'd come to terms after tonight: Gunn was her knight in armor, Gunn was the one she loved. Earlier, he'd been touched, actually touched by Lilah's gesture, the helmet. He hadn't had the time, knowing that he needed to be there for Fred- he'd already heard quite a bit about the mystery surrounding Professor Seidel and the fate of his students- but also because he wasn't quite sure how.
He didn't know what to do, why it had become so complicated, why this dark goddess with the power to destroy him captivated him so. She was a snake, she was a sort of dark angel, and she was right. They were the only ones who cared, no matter how down and out they were and they were obsessed with each other, trying to desperately satisfy this craving between them.
He realized he was idly finishing off that gin, and that he was so tired... He looked at her again, making sure she was all right, before drifting into sleep.
All's well that ends well, until the next morning.
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