Chapter 3 - A New Woman
Connor cracked open an eye. He didn't understand why he was lying on his stomach with his face smushed into his pillow. He never slept on his stomach, but always on his back. And the lights shining around the edges of the window – it was definitely afternoon, almost evening.
Connor rolled to his side and then immediately rolled back with a whimper. Ow, his backside was sore. Had he been in a fight? No, there had been that crazy fight, but he hadn't been hurt, and he had found Angel, who –
Connor felt his face flush red as the memory of the morning rushed over him. Angel had – had, well, he had done the s-word to Connor, the five letter s-word that Connor hoped to never hear again, much less experience.
"Are you awake?" he heard a female voice ask softly.
Connor turned his head farther to the side. Nina was sitting on the edge of her bed, watching him with concerned eyes. Connor felt his face turn redder and redder, and he didn't know whether to bury his head in his pillow or get up and pretend nothing had happened. He did neither, just watched Nina in uncomfortable silence.
"You slept for a long time," Nina commented to stop the silence.
"Did I?" Connor asked, not really caring, but wanting to keep the talking going.
"Yes. Uh, nearly seven hours. You were very still."
"Was I?" Connor felt absolutely stupid.
"Yes, it surprised me."
"Why?"
"Because Angel . . ." she trailed off uncertainly.
"It didn't hurt that much," Connor stammered once he found his voice.
"No, not that," Nina said hastily. "Angel sleeps differently – he moves a little more. Shifts his arms . . ." Nina trailed off again. She was blushing, realizing that any teenage son did not want to hear a woman talking about the sleeping habits of his father.
"He probably does," Connor said blankly.
"Must be something you got from your mother," Nina faltered. "The whole still sleeping thing."
"My mother was a vampire, too," Connor stated.
"Oh, it runs in the family," Nina said before she could think. Then the absurdity of her statement hit her – she knew how vampires were sired. Angel had told her quite a bit about his grief over killing his family; even after two-hundred-odd years, he still missed them.
"This is silly," she decided standing up. She was dressed in clean clothes – dark jeans, a blue shirt, and tan leather shoes. "I don't know that much about you, except how much Angel loves you. I saw what he did to you this morning –"
Connor looked away, his ears blood-red.
"- But it doesn't matter," Nina continued. "I mean, well, it does matter, to you, I'm sure. But I think it's something that needs to stay between you and your father. I will say just one thing."
"What?" Connor asked still not moving from his bed.
She stood up and took a step towards him. "If you ever try to kill your father like you did last year, I will tear you apart. You may have super strength, little boy, but I turn into a monster three nights out of the months."
Her eyes flashed with intensity, and Connor found himself gulping nervously.
"Do you understand?" Nina asked, still staring down at him.
"I won't hurt Angel."
"Oh, you'll hurt him," Nina said frankly. "You'll yell at him, and you'll fight like every other blasted father and son on the planet, but once you cross that line and try to hurt him, I'll be waiting."
She turned away from him and walked towards the door.
Connor flopped back down on the bed, hugging the pillow tight under his head. Well, that would be one woman he would never hook up with. Cordy had liked Angel but she had slept with Connor, but she had kind of been possessed then so maybe . . .
Connor hugged the pillow tighter, squeezing it under his hands. He had not liked the way Nina looked down at him, that no-nonsense tone she used. He had a very glum feeling that she would never be the one to coax Angel towards leniency. Cordy would have, and Fred might have urged Angel to give his son a break every now and then, but Nina – no, Nina would not take any disrespect from Connor, and apparently she sided with Angel about the whole sp–, um, s-word thing.
Connor finally rolled out of bed and glanced around. He was still sore. Man, Angel must have lit into him pretty strong. Connor had had bruises from fighting demons that healed quicker. But Nina was the only person who saw, so maybe the others . . .
A cold sweat broke out on Connor's forehead. Oh, no, Spike might have heard. Spike with the whole vampire-super-hearing –oh no! Nina might say nothing, but Spike! Connor had not been around Spike that much, but he doubted Spike was the kind of person to let an awkward situation pass by quietly. And Spike would tell Illyria and Gunn. Illyria, Connor didn't really care about – she wouldn't care who got hurt as long as she came out on top. But Gunn, Connor did not want him to know anything. Despite Gunn and Fred taking care of him the summer Angel slept at the bottom of the ocean, Connor felt like Gunn was a kind of pal. A buddy he could hang with, someone cool and fun, unlike a certain dark-haired vampire Connor knew.
Frowning and pouting and snarling, Connor began to search for something to wear. After a turn or two about the room, he found a pile of clothes in one chair. He began to dress quickly, hoping Nina would not come back in the room. He thought about going to the bathroom to change, but he had already dropped his pajama bottoms and as Angel had not afforded boxers earlier, Connor dressed in the middle of the room, keeping an eye on the door.
The clothes fit, but he disliked them right off. First off, brown baggy shorts that hung over his knees. Probably meant to make him feel like a skateboarder or rock band groupie, but Connor just felt like a kid who hadn't grown in his shorts yet. The shirt had short sleeves and was made of a thick blue material; it had a hood that hung down his back and pockets on the front like a sweatshirt jacket might have. It was long, hanging over the top of his shorts about five inches. White socks and navy running shoes completed the ensemble, making Connor fell all of about ten years old.
He was in college, not middle school! He should get to wear what Angel wore, and no way was Angel dressing like this. Even Spike got that cool leather coat. It would have been hot in LA, but Connor could have taken a little heat to look that cool in the long black duster. Instead he looked like skateboard punk who spend too much time playing video games.
Connor went into the bathroom, just to see if he could do anything with his hair to combat the dumb clothes. He ran his fingers through it, messed it up, combed it straight – hopeless.
The hall was quiet as he stepped out, letting the door click behind him. It occurred to him that he didn't have a key to get back it. Angel hadn't given him a key, but Connor hadn't left anything in the room, except maybe his pride and self-respect. He headed towards the stairs to get to the lobby. He could hear Spike and Angel arguing as he got closer.
"We are not going to start running around like crazy tonight," Angel told Spike, pointing a finger at him.
"Well, excuse me for saying a ruddy word!" Spike threw his hands in the air. "Just because I'm not kneeling on the floor, licking the shoes of our new leader, suppose I should be taken out and flogged. Can't a bloke have an opinion around here without everyone jumping down his throa?."
"Saying we should roam the streets all night to pick up the spoils for ourselves so we can live like royalty is not an opinion," Angel decided. "It's insanity."
"Oooo," Spike made a face, but he didn't offer a retort. He saw Connor out of the corner of his eyes and smirked. "Well, look junior vamp is awake. All dressed up and bright eyed after a paddling and a nap."
Connor took a threatening step towards Spike, but Angel put his hand out.
"Connor, behave," Angel warned. "And that's goes for you, too, Spike."
"Or what?" Spike challenged. "You'll spank me, too?"
Angel crossed his arms, his face set. Spike shrugged, but he turned away, muttering, "Let a fellow wallop you one time in Paris, and he thinks he owns you a hundred year later . . ."
"Where's Gunn?" Connor asked, not hearing Spike.
"He and Nina went to see about food," Angel replied. "Illyria is still getting ready. I told her she had to look like the rest of us and wear normal clothes."
"So she tried to rip his head off," Spike chortled. "Lovely fight – sorry you missed it, li'l tyke. Angel went flying across the room. She was all smug and happy-like, and then Angel told her she could look proper or she could leave. Brought the bint right down, it did. Shouldn't have put up such a fight. Her clothes were right fetching and cost a pretty penny, they did."
"Are you ever going to talk normal?" Angel demanded, whirling on Spike. "You've been here for decades! Learn to speak like an American."
"Up yours!" Spike retorted.
Connor nodded, thinking that was a pretty good American reply.
"What are we going to do?" Connor asked. When he had first entered the room, he had decided it wasn't the time to complain about his clothes. Given the look on Angel's face, Connor thought that had been a wise decision.
"Lay low for tonight," Angel replied. "I'm going out to see what the situation is, now that it's been a day since we destroyed Wolfram and Hart. Which apparently was not destroyed if they made a deal with you. I'll put some feelers out, see if they want to negotiate or kill us. Depending on the answer, we might move on tomorrow to a safer place or relocate."
"We could go find Buffy," Spike's head shot up eagerly. "See if she's had her fill of the Immortal yet. Maybe she'll let us join her team. Heard she has a million Slayers now. One of them has to fancy you, and I'll settled for a few dozen who want to see the handsome side of evil."
"No, we need to have our own team," Angel told him. "Buffy's fight is with raw darkness. Ours is with the more sophisticated part."
"Would be nice to have a few more on our side," Spike muttered.
"We have six – that's a start," Angel replied.
Connor tried to hide his smile. He was one of those six; Angel had included him in the fight against evil.
Spike raised his eyebrows but said nothing.
Steps sounded on the stairs, and Connor glanced up to see who was coming. A brown-haired girl in black pants and a buttoned shirt clasped her hands in front of her.
"Fred!" Connor smiled reflexively.
"No," the woman's face went hard. "Not Fred. I might not have my natural tint or wear my usual garb, but I am still Illyria."
"Can't you look like someone else?" Angel said, his words whispered between cold lips.
"I could," she replied evenly. "But I only kept from looking like your Fred because of Wesley. He is gone now. I will look like Fred if I cannot be myself."
Angel looked ready to argue, looked ready to knock the ex-goddess across the room. But he kept his hands by his side and replied, "Do what you like. Don't draw attention."
Connor turned to Angel. "But Fred –"
"Is no longer a part of this," Angel told him, leaving no room to argue. "Just one more person we couldn't save."
A shadow crossed Spike's face, but he had no time to reply because Nina and Gunn walked into the lobby.
"All right," Nina spoke to Angel. "We talked to the manager. She doesn't want to, but she'll have the staff put what's left of the food on a table in the dining room. There should be enough for the three of us."
"Three?" Angel repeated.
"Yeah, Gunn, Connor, and me," she indicated the three of them. "You and Spike don't eat, and I thought her majesty wouldn't eat, even without the blue."
"I can eat," Illyria said in a frigid voice that did not match Fred's winsome features.
"Regular food or people?" Nina snipped.
"Both, but you do the same, don't you, werewolf?" Illyria replied.
Connor sighed, glancing out the window as they fought. Twilight was falling fast – he had slept longer than seven hours probably.
"I cannot help my condition," Nina argued. "I was bitten, I didn't come into the world by killing an innocent girl."
"Yet, you stand there, ready to slaughter us all," Illyria tilted her head to the side. "The moon will be up soon, and then you will change."
"Oh!" Nina turned to Angel, utterly terrified. "Angel, I forgot. I still have another night left. I have to leave before I kill you all."
"No," Angel remained calm. "You're going out with me tonight."
"What?" the whole group asked in unison, except for Illyria who looked bored.
"I need someone at my side who could be a threat, someone to keep our enemies from attacking me. Any creep who sees a raging werewolf at my side will think twice before starting a fight."
"I could scare people off," Spike volunteered.
"Yes, but I wanted a physical threat, not an insane dye-job one," Angel replied smoothly.
Spike gave an annoyed little shrug and ran a fond hand over his platinum-blond hair.
"I might attack you," Nina worried. "Once I turn, I can't remember anything. It starts off as this anger, and I feel like I'm spiraling into a temper tantrum that I can't avoid or stop. My rage grows and grows until I can't stand to stay inside my own head, and I wake up the next morning, sometimes covered in blood."
"I can handle you," Angel told her, putting a hand on her shoulder. "I'm not going to let you get away from me, and werewolf or no, vampires have a pretty bad temper, too."
She did not seem convinced, but Angel turned to the rest of the group.
"Gunn, I want you to guard this hotel. See who enters – who leaves. Anyone puts up a fight to your questions, kill them. Tonight is not the time for leniency. We may have well started a war. Spike, you go to the sewers. See if anyone's lurking around, or if anyone's left. Lorne was our last connection with the good demons. I don't know where we stand now."
"Sure thing," Spike said, uncharacteristically agreeable.
"Illyria, you back up Gunn," Angel told the ex-goddess. "You hear something usual or think Gunn's met a problem, rip them to shreds."
"My pleasure," she smiled, a cruel smile on her gentle face.
"What about me?" Connor spoke up when he realized that Angel was not giving him an order.
"You," Angel frowned slightly, "stay in the hotel. We'll use you as a base, call in every so often. But you're not leaving the hotel, and I want you to go to sleep by one."
"I slept all day," Connor began, but Angel shook his head.
"Well, you obviously needed it. You will not step foot outside this hotel. I mean it – no sneaking out, no wandering the sewers, no running the rooftops. I will know if you try to leave, and if you do . . ." Angel gave Connor a very cold, hard look. "Do not try it," he warned.
Connor flushed, angry at his father's patronizing and sternness, but he said nothing.
"Moon's almost out," Gunn observed.
Nina took a step back, and she clenched her teeth together. "It's coming," she said hoarsely.
"Spike, see if you can round up any weapons," Angel instructed. "Anything laying around the sewers, get it."
"Oh!" Nina cried, knotting her hands into fists. Her face grew angry, the expression of a woman in a fit of temper, crazy with angry, betrayal, fury, and hatred.
"Gunn, same goes for you," Angel continued. "See something we can use – take it."
Nina let out a scream as she stumbled backwards. Claws emerged from her slender fingers; hair sprouted on her neck and cheeks. Her mouth and nose extended in a furry snout, and her teeth grew long and pointed into razor-like fangs. In one sharp motion, she tore her clothes right off and stepped out of them in full-body fur.
"Connor," Angel gave him a stern look again, "do not leave the hotel."
Connor could not take his eyes off Nina or rather the werewolf that stood where Nina had been. Even covered by shaggy fur, Connor could see the womanly curves of her body. He wondered if he should be looking, but then the monster looked at him. Cruel yellow eyes shone out under a heavy brow, and the dark lips pulled back to reveal even more teeth.
With a snarl, the werewolf leapt for him. Connor instinctively jumped back, but Angel was already there. He had changed, and the vampire face looked almost as fierce as the werewolf.
The werewolf attacked, but Angel hurtled her to the floor.
"Come on," he yelled. "Outside. We're hunting tonight!"
Connor stood in mute amazement as Angel pushed and kicked and beat the werewolf towards the door of the hotel. Connor didn't understand why the manager didn't come running, but nothing expensive had broken yet; Angel was careful about that.
The vampire got the werewolf outside, into the street and under the faint moonlight. He kept bullying the monster, ordering her to follow him and not fight. True to the monster's nature, the werewolf couldn't seem to obey, snapping at his hands and lunging for his throat.
Down the street they went, fighting and grappling until they moved out of sight.
"What a bunch of Nancy boys," Spike observed. He pulled a cigarette out of his mouth and lit it with a black lighter. "So much drama – pulling each other's pigtails. Should have a proper shag and get on with it. Well, I'm off to the sewers. You be a good boy until Daddy gets back."
Spike sauntered off towards the back of the hotel, leaving Connor to stand in the lobby with Gunn and Illyria.
"Well," Gunn said in careless voice, "let's go have dinner."
Connor rolled to his side and then immediately rolled back with a whimper. Ow, his backside was sore. Had he been in a fight? No, there had been that crazy fight, but he hadn't been hurt, and he had found Angel, who –
Connor felt his face flush red as the memory of the morning rushed over him. Angel had – had, well, he had done the s-word to Connor, the five letter s-word that Connor hoped to never hear again, much less experience.
"Are you awake?" he heard a female voice ask softly.
Connor turned his head farther to the side. Nina was sitting on the edge of her bed, watching him with concerned eyes. Connor felt his face turn redder and redder, and he didn't know whether to bury his head in his pillow or get up and pretend nothing had happened. He did neither, just watched Nina in uncomfortable silence.
"You slept for a long time," Nina commented to stop the silence.
"Did I?" Connor asked, not really caring, but wanting to keep the talking going.
"Yes. Uh, nearly seven hours. You were very still."
"Was I?" Connor felt absolutely stupid.
"Yes, it surprised me."
"Why?"
"Because Angel . . ." she trailed off uncertainly.
"It didn't hurt that much," Connor stammered once he found his voice.
"No, not that," Nina said hastily. "Angel sleeps differently – he moves a little more. Shifts his arms . . ." Nina trailed off again. She was blushing, realizing that any teenage son did not want to hear a woman talking about the sleeping habits of his father.
"He probably does," Connor said blankly.
"Must be something you got from your mother," Nina faltered. "The whole still sleeping thing."
"My mother was a vampire, too," Connor stated.
"Oh, it runs in the family," Nina said before she could think. Then the absurdity of her statement hit her – she knew how vampires were sired. Angel had told her quite a bit about his grief over killing his family; even after two-hundred-odd years, he still missed them.
"This is silly," she decided standing up. She was dressed in clean clothes – dark jeans, a blue shirt, and tan leather shoes. "I don't know that much about you, except how much Angel loves you. I saw what he did to you this morning –"
Connor looked away, his ears blood-red.
"- But it doesn't matter," Nina continued. "I mean, well, it does matter, to you, I'm sure. But I think it's something that needs to stay between you and your father. I will say just one thing."
"What?" Connor asked still not moving from his bed.
She stood up and took a step towards him. "If you ever try to kill your father like you did last year, I will tear you apart. You may have super strength, little boy, but I turn into a monster three nights out of the months."
Her eyes flashed with intensity, and Connor found himself gulping nervously.
"Do you understand?" Nina asked, still staring down at him.
"I won't hurt Angel."
"Oh, you'll hurt him," Nina said frankly. "You'll yell at him, and you'll fight like every other blasted father and son on the planet, but once you cross that line and try to hurt him, I'll be waiting."
She turned away from him and walked towards the door.
Connor flopped back down on the bed, hugging the pillow tight under his head. Well, that would be one woman he would never hook up with. Cordy had liked Angel but she had slept with Connor, but she had kind of been possessed then so maybe . . .
Connor hugged the pillow tighter, squeezing it under his hands. He had not liked the way Nina looked down at him, that no-nonsense tone she used. He had a very glum feeling that she would never be the one to coax Angel towards leniency. Cordy would have, and Fred might have urged Angel to give his son a break every now and then, but Nina – no, Nina would not take any disrespect from Connor, and apparently she sided with Angel about the whole sp–, um, s-word thing.
Connor finally rolled out of bed and glanced around. He was still sore. Man, Angel must have lit into him pretty strong. Connor had had bruises from fighting demons that healed quicker. But Nina was the only person who saw, so maybe the others . . .
A cold sweat broke out on Connor's forehead. Oh, no, Spike might have heard. Spike with the whole vampire-super-hearing –oh no! Nina might say nothing, but Spike! Connor had not been around Spike that much, but he doubted Spike was the kind of person to let an awkward situation pass by quietly. And Spike would tell Illyria and Gunn. Illyria, Connor didn't really care about – she wouldn't care who got hurt as long as she came out on top. But Gunn, Connor did not want him to know anything. Despite Gunn and Fred taking care of him the summer Angel slept at the bottom of the ocean, Connor felt like Gunn was a kind of pal. A buddy he could hang with, someone cool and fun, unlike a certain dark-haired vampire Connor knew.
Frowning and pouting and snarling, Connor began to search for something to wear. After a turn or two about the room, he found a pile of clothes in one chair. He began to dress quickly, hoping Nina would not come back in the room. He thought about going to the bathroom to change, but he had already dropped his pajama bottoms and as Angel had not afforded boxers earlier, Connor dressed in the middle of the room, keeping an eye on the door.
The clothes fit, but he disliked them right off. First off, brown baggy shorts that hung over his knees. Probably meant to make him feel like a skateboarder or rock band groupie, but Connor just felt like a kid who hadn't grown in his shorts yet. The shirt had short sleeves and was made of a thick blue material; it had a hood that hung down his back and pockets on the front like a sweatshirt jacket might have. It was long, hanging over the top of his shorts about five inches. White socks and navy running shoes completed the ensemble, making Connor fell all of about ten years old.
He was in college, not middle school! He should get to wear what Angel wore, and no way was Angel dressing like this. Even Spike got that cool leather coat. It would have been hot in LA, but Connor could have taken a little heat to look that cool in the long black duster. Instead he looked like skateboard punk who spend too much time playing video games.
Connor went into the bathroom, just to see if he could do anything with his hair to combat the dumb clothes. He ran his fingers through it, messed it up, combed it straight – hopeless.
The hall was quiet as he stepped out, letting the door click behind him. It occurred to him that he didn't have a key to get back it. Angel hadn't given him a key, but Connor hadn't left anything in the room, except maybe his pride and self-respect. He headed towards the stairs to get to the lobby. He could hear Spike and Angel arguing as he got closer.
"We are not going to start running around like crazy tonight," Angel told Spike, pointing a finger at him.
"Well, excuse me for saying a ruddy word!" Spike threw his hands in the air. "Just because I'm not kneeling on the floor, licking the shoes of our new leader, suppose I should be taken out and flogged. Can't a bloke have an opinion around here without everyone jumping down his throa?."
"Saying we should roam the streets all night to pick up the spoils for ourselves so we can live like royalty is not an opinion," Angel decided. "It's insanity."
"Oooo," Spike made a face, but he didn't offer a retort. He saw Connor out of the corner of his eyes and smirked. "Well, look junior vamp is awake. All dressed up and bright eyed after a paddling and a nap."
Connor took a threatening step towards Spike, but Angel put his hand out.
"Connor, behave," Angel warned. "And that's goes for you, too, Spike."
"Or what?" Spike challenged. "You'll spank me, too?"
Angel crossed his arms, his face set. Spike shrugged, but he turned away, muttering, "Let a fellow wallop you one time in Paris, and he thinks he owns you a hundred year later . . ."
"Where's Gunn?" Connor asked, not hearing Spike.
"He and Nina went to see about food," Angel replied. "Illyria is still getting ready. I told her she had to look like the rest of us and wear normal clothes."
"So she tried to rip his head off," Spike chortled. "Lovely fight – sorry you missed it, li'l tyke. Angel went flying across the room. She was all smug and happy-like, and then Angel told her she could look proper or she could leave. Brought the bint right down, it did. Shouldn't have put up such a fight. Her clothes were right fetching and cost a pretty penny, they did."
"Are you ever going to talk normal?" Angel demanded, whirling on Spike. "You've been here for decades! Learn to speak like an American."
"Up yours!" Spike retorted.
Connor nodded, thinking that was a pretty good American reply.
"What are we going to do?" Connor asked. When he had first entered the room, he had decided it wasn't the time to complain about his clothes. Given the look on Angel's face, Connor thought that had been a wise decision.
"Lay low for tonight," Angel replied. "I'm going out to see what the situation is, now that it's been a day since we destroyed Wolfram and Hart. Which apparently was not destroyed if they made a deal with you. I'll put some feelers out, see if they want to negotiate or kill us. Depending on the answer, we might move on tomorrow to a safer place or relocate."
"We could go find Buffy," Spike's head shot up eagerly. "See if she's had her fill of the Immortal yet. Maybe she'll let us join her team. Heard she has a million Slayers now. One of them has to fancy you, and I'll settled for a few dozen who want to see the handsome side of evil."
"No, we need to have our own team," Angel told him. "Buffy's fight is with raw darkness. Ours is with the more sophisticated part."
"Would be nice to have a few more on our side," Spike muttered.
"We have six – that's a start," Angel replied.
Connor tried to hide his smile. He was one of those six; Angel had included him in the fight against evil.
Spike raised his eyebrows but said nothing.
Steps sounded on the stairs, and Connor glanced up to see who was coming. A brown-haired girl in black pants and a buttoned shirt clasped her hands in front of her.
"Fred!" Connor smiled reflexively.
"No," the woman's face went hard. "Not Fred. I might not have my natural tint or wear my usual garb, but I am still Illyria."
"Can't you look like someone else?" Angel said, his words whispered between cold lips.
"I could," she replied evenly. "But I only kept from looking like your Fred because of Wesley. He is gone now. I will look like Fred if I cannot be myself."
Angel looked ready to argue, looked ready to knock the ex-goddess across the room. But he kept his hands by his side and replied, "Do what you like. Don't draw attention."
Connor turned to Angel. "But Fred –"
"Is no longer a part of this," Angel told him, leaving no room to argue. "Just one more person we couldn't save."
A shadow crossed Spike's face, but he had no time to reply because Nina and Gunn walked into the lobby.
"All right," Nina spoke to Angel. "We talked to the manager. She doesn't want to, but she'll have the staff put what's left of the food on a table in the dining room. There should be enough for the three of us."
"Three?" Angel repeated.
"Yeah, Gunn, Connor, and me," she indicated the three of them. "You and Spike don't eat, and I thought her majesty wouldn't eat, even without the blue."
"I can eat," Illyria said in a frigid voice that did not match Fred's winsome features.
"Regular food or people?" Nina snipped.
"Both, but you do the same, don't you, werewolf?" Illyria replied.
Connor sighed, glancing out the window as they fought. Twilight was falling fast – he had slept longer than seven hours probably.
"I cannot help my condition," Nina argued. "I was bitten, I didn't come into the world by killing an innocent girl."
"Yet, you stand there, ready to slaughter us all," Illyria tilted her head to the side. "The moon will be up soon, and then you will change."
"Oh!" Nina turned to Angel, utterly terrified. "Angel, I forgot. I still have another night left. I have to leave before I kill you all."
"No," Angel remained calm. "You're going out with me tonight."
"What?" the whole group asked in unison, except for Illyria who looked bored.
"I need someone at my side who could be a threat, someone to keep our enemies from attacking me. Any creep who sees a raging werewolf at my side will think twice before starting a fight."
"I could scare people off," Spike volunteered.
"Yes, but I wanted a physical threat, not an insane dye-job one," Angel replied smoothly.
Spike gave an annoyed little shrug and ran a fond hand over his platinum-blond hair.
"I might attack you," Nina worried. "Once I turn, I can't remember anything. It starts off as this anger, and I feel like I'm spiraling into a temper tantrum that I can't avoid or stop. My rage grows and grows until I can't stand to stay inside my own head, and I wake up the next morning, sometimes covered in blood."
"I can handle you," Angel told her, putting a hand on her shoulder. "I'm not going to let you get away from me, and werewolf or no, vampires have a pretty bad temper, too."
She did not seem convinced, but Angel turned to the rest of the group.
"Gunn, I want you to guard this hotel. See who enters – who leaves. Anyone puts up a fight to your questions, kill them. Tonight is not the time for leniency. We may have well started a war. Spike, you go to the sewers. See if anyone's lurking around, or if anyone's left. Lorne was our last connection with the good demons. I don't know where we stand now."
"Sure thing," Spike said, uncharacteristically agreeable.
"Illyria, you back up Gunn," Angel told the ex-goddess. "You hear something usual or think Gunn's met a problem, rip them to shreds."
"My pleasure," she smiled, a cruel smile on her gentle face.
"What about me?" Connor spoke up when he realized that Angel was not giving him an order.
"You," Angel frowned slightly, "stay in the hotel. We'll use you as a base, call in every so often. But you're not leaving the hotel, and I want you to go to sleep by one."
"I slept all day," Connor began, but Angel shook his head.
"Well, you obviously needed it. You will not step foot outside this hotel. I mean it – no sneaking out, no wandering the sewers, no running the rooftops. I will know if you try to leave, and if you do . . ." Angel gave Connor a very cold, hard look. "Do not try it," he warned.
Connor flushed, angry at his father's patronizing and sternness, but he said nothing.
"Moon's almost out," Gunn observed.
Nina took a step back, and she clenched her teeth together. "It's coming," she said hoarsely.
"Spike, see if you can round up any weapons," Angel instructed. "Anything laying around the sewers, get it."
"Oh!" Nina cried, knotting her hands into fists. Her face grew angry, the expression of a woman in a fit of temper, crazy with angry, betrayal, fury, and hatred.
"Gunn, same goes for you," Angel continued. "See something we can use – take it."
Nina let out a scream as she stumbled backwards. Claws emerged from her slender fingers; hair sprouted on her neck and cheeks. Her mouth and nose extended in a furry snout, and her teeth grew long and pointed into razor-like fangs. In one sharp motion, she tore her clothes right off and stepped out of them in full-body fur.
"Connor," Angel gave him a stern look again, "do not leave the hotel."
Connor could not take his eyes off Nina or rather the werewolf that stood where Nina had been. Even covered by shaggy fur, Connor could see the womanly curves of her body. He wondered if he should be looking, but then the monster looked at him. Cruel yellow eyes shone out under a heavy brow, and the dark lips pulled back to reveal even more teeth.
With a snarl, the werewolf leapt for him. Connor instinctively jumped back, but Angel was already there. He had changed, and the vampire face looked almost as fierce as the werewolf.
The werewolf attacked, but Angel hurtled her to the floor.
"Come on," he yelled. "Outside. We're hunting tonight!"
Connor stood in mute amazement as Angel pushed and kicked and beat the werewolf towards the door of the hotel. Connor didn't understand why the manager didn't come running, but nothing expensive had broken yet; Angel was careful about that.
The vampire got the werewolf outside, into the street and under the faint moonlight. He kept bullying the monster, ordering her to follow him and not fight. True to the monster's nature, the werewolf couldn't seem to obey, snapping at his hands and lunging for his throat.
Down the street they went, fighting and grappling until they moved out of sight.
"What a bunch of Nancy boys," Spike observed. He pulled a cigarette out of his mouth and lit it with a black lighter. "So much drama – pulling each other's pigtails. Should have a proper shag and get on with it. Well, I'm off to the sewers. You be a good boy until Daddy gets back."
Spike sauntered off towards the back of the hotel, leaving Connor to stand in the lobby with Gunn and Illyria.
"Well," Gunn said in careless voice, "let's go have dinner."