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TITLE: Mockingbird, Part 2
AUTHOR: Tesla and dessert_first
RATING:
SPOILERS:
CHARACTERS: Angel/Anya, Xander/Cordelia, Fred/Gunn/Wesley, Spike/Buffy, Tara/Willow, Gwen/Lilah, Lindsey/Darla
DISCLAIMERS:
SUMMARY:
NOTES: Set in Anya!World.Very AU. In this universe, Darla wasn't re-vamped, Anya got the visions in our previous episodes.
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"'The Destroyer'?!" Angel exclaimed. The car swerved dangerously into a U-turn, and Anya grabbed at the dashboard. "We're going back to the Hyperion now. You better call the others."
"Yes, dear," Anya said distractedly, having already speed-dialed Cordelia. "Hello, Cordy? We've got trouble."
***
" 'The Destroyer'?!" Xander almost spilled his coffee on the newest set designs. "Is this some kind of joke? Are all the bad guys gonna start using comic book names, now?"
"Naw, man," Gunn's voice was quietly urgent. "That's what the kid says they call him back home. We're rallying the troops on this one."
***
" 'The Destroyer'?!" Cordelia sniffed. "Oh, please. Like that isn't the voice of inadequacy. Who picks a name like that, anyway?"
"Yes, but I had a vision about this. It can't be good. Can't you postpone your meeting with the Revlon people? Bus! Angel, bu--sorry, Cordy. Can you come?"
"What are you, kidding me? I've been trying to schedule this meeting for months! I'll see if Darla can make it."
"Oh, fine. Oh my God, I'm sorry I ever got you these really, really expensive necro-tempered car windows; you're an absolute menace! Not you, Cordy."
***
" 'The Destroyer'?! What do you want me to do, sue him?" Lindsey adjusted his tie, darting an assessing glance at his client. She quirked an impatient eyebrow at Lindsey and whispered something in her lover's ear before going back to leveling death glares at her soon-to-be-ex-business partner and very-ex-husband.
"You're on our team now, buster," Anya said. "Get the hell over to the Hyperion and figure out if we can deport him."
"Pan-dimensionally?"
"Oh, like you didn't cover that in law school," Anya snorted. "Angel! Angel! That glass was really expensive! So help me, I'm putting it on e-bay the minute we get home if you don't slow down!"
***
"'The Destroyer'?! That's the siren call of inadequacy if I ever heard it." Darla said, idly stirring her cooling latte.
"That's what I said," Cordelia told her. "But Anya says she had a vision, and I can tell you from experience there's usually a good reason for those. You finished your meeting, right?"
"Oh, yes," Darla smiled. "Giancarlo was very accomodating. I think Paramour Magazine can look forward to a promising relationship with his company."
"Yes! Um, I mean, could you run over to the Hyperion and see what all the fuss is about? I'll meet up with you guys after the Revlon thing."
"For you, my dear?" Darla signaled the waiter for the check. "Of course."
***
It was one thing to drop everything in order to dash into the hotel, weapons ready, and another for Xander and Angel to see absolutely nothing happening.
They stared at each other, and then looked at Anya.
"Hey, Gunn said to come," she said, very slightly defensive. "And, you know, vision."
"Weird smell," Angel said. "Kinda familiar. Four heartbeats." He raised his voice. "Guys?"
The garden door opened, and Lindsey strolled in, tie loosened and rolling up his shirtsleeves. "So? Where's the Destroyer?"
Angel ignored him, bellowing, "Gunn! Wes!"
Fred stuck her head around the corner. "We're in the kitchen."
They hurried down the hall and through the swinging door to the kitchen. Gunn and Wesley were sitting at the long table with a skinny kid dressed in skins and furs, who was shoving tacos in his mouth with both hands. He looked up at the newcomers and frowned.
"That's him," Anya murmured, and strategically stayed behind Angel.
"The Destroyer?" Xander asked. "Well, he's done a damn good job of destroying most of that pile of food we gave him," Gunn said. "Kid was hungry. Look at him, he's skinny as..." He seemed to think better of finishing that sentence, maybe because Wesley nailed him with a warning look. "Anyway, we waved a candy bar in front of him and he seemed to see the benefits of not kicking all our asses. Which he's good at, by the way."
"Man shoulda been a chef," Anya muttered into Angel's sleeve. She raised her head, and whispered, "There's a reason I had a vision about this kid. Be careful."
The skinny kid wiped his mouth with his forearm. "So," he said, looking around at them. "Which one of you is my dad?"
"Leaves you out," Lindsey said to Angel. "How old are you, kid, and where are you from?"
"Quor'toth," the kid said. "But I was born here in Los Angeles."
The men all seemed to be making mental calculations.
"I think you're too old for me to be your father," Xander said. "Besides the whole thing where I know where all three of the---never mind."
Wesley was still looking at the ceiling. "Well, if he was from Manchester---"
"You know what?" Anya said, cutting off the walk down memory lane. "Maybe we've been rounding up the wrong people. Everyone with a weapon, back down. I'm calling Lorne."
***
"Whaddaya mean, you don't know any songs?" Lindsey said, incredulous. "Music is vital, man, you gotta have that. It's how a man can express himself, set himself free, let out his demons."
"Demons?" The kid frowned.
"Uh, metaphorically," Xander said. "You can put that stake down."
"Hey, Lindsey's a good singer. Why don't you let him show you how it's done?" Gunn clapped Lindsey on the shoulder. "I'll go get your guitar."
***
Out in the lobby, Anya simultaneously paced and speed-dialed. "Lorne? It's me, Anya. Again. Leaving you another voicemail. We need you to come listen to some kid sing. But you already know that from all the other voicemails I left you. And the threatening messages with your bartender. Ramon was much more polite, you know."
"There's something about that kid," Angel mused. "I'm not sure what it is that seems so familiar..." The opening chords of some country western hit floated in from the kitchen and Angel scowled reflexively.
"Ah, music," Wesley smiled. "Perhaps just the thing to soothe the savage beast. Er, not you, Angel. Obviously."
"Let's just take this from the top," Anya said. "You say Fred was messing around with things best left--I mean, trying to open a portal. In the hotel lobby. Risking all kinds of possible damage to the structure and raising our insurance rates even further."
"Yes, well," Wesley said. "At any rate, she was attempting to tap into Pylea, as you know. Trying to help the hopeless, one might say. Much as if that were her job. Apparently, something went wrong--"
"Color me surprised," Anya muttered.
"And the resulting portal, rather than leading to Pylea, seems to have tapped into the wrong dimension due to a slight miscalculation on her part. Our young friend was trying to leap into another dimensional rift at the time Fred's portal interfered with his, causing a momentary coalescence that led to... well, he's here. Rather than wherever he was going."
"What do you mean, 'wherever he was going'?" Angel asked. "He seemed pretty sure he was coming here."
"Of course!" Anya exclaimed. "Guys, I know what must have happened. Okay, say you really like shrimp. Or, say you don't like shrimp at all..."
Part 3
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