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The Forgotten Hyena	By : Yaoiandcoffeeaddict Category: AtS/BtVS Crossovers > Slash - Male/Male > Spike(William)/Xander > Spike(William)/Xander Views: 4071 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Buffy or Angel nor profit from this work.

Chapter List
- 1-The Forgotten Hyena Part 1
- 1
The evening thunderstorm over Los Angeles had begun to move out, the dark clouds moving quickly over the sky, leaving a slight drizzle in its wake. The birds had begun to emerge from their shelters and take to singing their evening songs as what little sun could be seen set. The air smelled between a mix of early morning and low tide, the smell better or worse depending on where you were. The smell wafted into the cracked doors of the old Hyperion Hotel, currently known as the location of Angel Investigations, the detective agency specializing in the supernatural.
Normally the sounds echoing through the hotel would contain the warm aura of a surrogate family. The former watcher and expert Wesley would be relating to his comrades some fascinating tidbit of information regarding a book he was currently reading; his bearing that of the mother of the group and ready to scold if no one had done their homework. The former street hunter, Gunn, would be half-listening, half-making a wise-cracking comments in an effort to remind Wesley of everyone’s short attention span in a manner reminiscent of an older-teenager who was no longer as affected emotionally by rushing hormones. Fred would be twirling in a bubbly manner around the hotel, stopping to inquire as to what everyone was talking about like the affection starved youngest child attempting to remind everyone of her presence.
Cordelia, the former cheerleader, had the role of the eldest child as she pacified her family squabbles, though lacking the authority of Wesley or Angel, or ignored them. Spike, despite his age, was the bratty teenager starving for attention. Angel, the more paternal figure, would in some miraculous way settle everyone down when emotions ran too high or leave them to deal with it on their own to preserve his sanity while reminding everyone of the current case. If someone went too far, it would be Angel in the end to decide disciplinary action (with Wesley or Cordelia’s occasional advice).
However, there was very little sound echoing in the Hyperion. The clients entering the building would immediately sense the depressed atmosphere as the investigative team either dragged their feet. The only real sounds were low murmurs or voices from Spike’s ‘telly.’
The reason behind this lay in the strange, doting uncle figure- Lorne.
The green demon and dear friend of the team had been missing for over four months. Every lead had been exhausted and so far all they knew was Lorne had been grabbed by a dark van outside of his club Caritas. Angel and Spike had searched all slave markets on the western shore. Cordelia and Fred had searched all the labs that were rumored to be conducting demon research in the country. Gunn and Wesley had asked the street demons and street fighters about any other possible fate. A few demons had mentioned a military group but they did not know the name.
Cordelia looked up briefly from her magazine at the reception desk and announced, “It’s not raining anymore.”
Everyone in the room turned to stare at her as if she had announced there was a two-headed dog on the desk.
“What? It was too quiet,” she explained as she stole a glance to the silent phone, willing it to ring and relieve the intense silence. It didn’t happen.
A few minutes passed by before Angel emerged for his first cup of blood that day, descending the stairs in a stupor. Only Fred and Spike looked up as he passed by them on his way to the kitchen. He acknowledged them with the slightest nod of his head, noting Fred’s depression and Spike’s pallor. As he heated up two mugs of the good stuff, one for himself and one for his grand-childe, he pulled out the brochures he had printed out from the internet from their hiding place in the high cabinet.
The microwave went off with a ping. He retrieved the mugs and sniffed them to make sure the smell and heat was just right before stuffing the brochures in his pocket and carrying the mugs into the lobby.
Spike inclined his head at the smell as he approached, the left scarred eyebrow raised in confusion. “Human blood, Peaches?” A startled, somewhat amused look settled over his face. “Oi, Mini-Watcher, I think Angelus is out!”
Wesley cast a half-hearted glare at the bleached vampire before returning to his book.
Angel handed the mug with the puppy in a Christmas hat on it to Spike, ignoring Spike’s this-is-so-going-to-affect-my-image look as he took a seat on the couch. He settled back into the cotton comfort with his own mug, a black mug with the stylized letters ‘#1 Investigator’ in white and began to drink. Spike finished his internal debate and was soon drinking silently as well.
Once Angel’s mug was half empty, Angel announced loudly, “We need to have a meeting.”
Everyone took a moment to process that before giving Angel their full attention. “Do we have a case?” Wesley asked, his voice filled with confusion.
“No, but we need to have a talk,” Angel answered. When he saw no one moved after a few minutes, he added, “Now!”
There was a slight shuffle as the employees approached the slightly battered couch, their gazes fixed on their boss as he leaned forward to place the brochures on the slightly-worn coffee table. Thin, sloppily folded sheets gazed up from a surface that was slightly dirty as Spike had often used it as a footstool.
“What’s this abow’t?” Fred asked, the slight twang escaping her as she leaned forward to pick up the one that proudly displayed the American flag. “Cemeteries? Do we have a case?”
“No, Angel already said we didn’t,” Wesley answered from over her shoulder.
“Are we relocating to a cemetery?” Cordelia asked with slight amusement.
“No,” Angel answered. “I just think it’s time to face facts.” The group went silent as Fred crumpled the paper slightly in her small hand. “Lorne has been missing for over a third of the year. You know as well as I do what that means for a missing person… demon or human.”
All amusement and confusion vanished from the group, leaving living manikins for several minutes as each was well immersed in their own thoughts.
“Ya think that we should have a memorial?” Fred asked, her voice small as her fingers played with the paper in her grasp.
“Yes… I think it’s the best idea.”
“That way we can bury him spiritually since we cannot bury him physically,” Wesley concluded as he placed a soothing hand on Fred’s arm.
“Wow, I’m touched Sweetheart,” came a barely-heard voice just as the last small clap of thunder sounded behind them.
Collectively, the entire group turned as one to see Lorne at the entrance of the lobby looking like he’d been through hell and back… well, the worst imaginable hell dimension and back, seeing as Lorne was a demon from a hell dimension. His iconic purple suit hung in tatters on him, dirty and wet. His left horn was missing and there was slight scarring running from his left horn’s empty place to the left side of his throat. The view of his chest was partially blocked by the large canvas-wrapped bundle he was carrying so they could not see the full extent of the damage.
“Lorne!” Fred cried in joy, tears in her eyes as she ran to him to hug him, only to stop when she saw the bundle up close and realized there were dark brown curls hanging out of the canvas. “Who’s that?”
“I’ll tell you later, Sweetie. Right now, I need to get him somewhere warm and dry. He’s already hurt and I can’t risk him going into early labor from even more stress.”
“Labor?” Wesley and Gunn repeated, their expressions mutually disturbed as they shot each other a glance.”
Lorne ignored them, shifting his burden slightly in his grip. “Angel cakes, you got an extra room that fits the bill?”
“Uh… yeah… two beds and a bathroom, third floor, room 304,” Angel said, unaware that he had shot to his feet and accidently hit Spike in the head with his mug.
“Oi! Watch it!” Spike yelped.
“Thanks, doll,” Lorne said as he followed Fred to the elevator after she had grabbed the key to the room. “I’ll be down to tell you the story after I get him settled,” he promised as the doors closed with a ping…
----
An hour later, Lorne was clothed in a spare, more gaudy suit of Angel’s and seated in a comfortable Victorian armchair with his surrogate family surrounding him. “I’ve got a couple of hours before he wakes up to tell you this story, but I don’t think I’ll need it." He reached for the bottle of Sangria Fred had brought out with a slight smile, took a sip, and enjoyed the delicious feel of the sweet alcohol on his tongue before setting the bottle back on the worn stand to his left.
“As you probably know, I was kidnapped outside my club and dragged into a van that would take me to an underground facility. I think they were some type of government group. For your sakes, I will not tell you of the experiments done to me but I’ll tell you why we need to protect that ‘boy.’
“To be honest, I don’t know what he is. Initially, he terrified me with his high-pitch laughter from his cage next to mine and his stink. But then he kept me sane with small touches of comfort through the bars after they would run their experiments, quietly running a hand on my scalp as I babbled to him. He seemed to enjoy my babbling." A slight smile pulled at the chapped red lips.
“After I’d been there I think about two weeks, he spoke a few words in English to me. He said, “I like you, I protect.” And he did. About a week later, the soldiers or whatever they are came into my cell to kill me. I apparently was no longer of interest. My friend busted through the bars and threw one of them out with that eerie laugh of his.
“They then allowed us to remain in the same cell. It was between a week to two weeks later that one of the soldiers…they took my friend out of my cell and…” Lorne gulped, unable to say it, “I watched the whole thing screaming at him to stop but he didn’t...he just kept..." He paused again before continuing, "I held my friend that night as tight as I could as he cried human-like tears. He’d learned to say my name by then and was repeating it… over and…" He took a large swig of his drink and waited a minute before continuing. His brown eyes were glassy as they stared at the replay of what was obviously the most terrifying and scarring event of his capture.
“About three weeks I found out ‘he’ is not entirely a ‘he’ when his stomach distended and began moving. The soldier that… well he didn’t want his kid to be an experiment so he helped us escape three days ago…”
All in the lobby had been affected by the story in some way. Wesley had turned red, Gunn slightly green, Fred was crying, Cordelia was strangely silent, Spike’s face had shifted in his anger, and Angel was gripping his own chair so hard, the armrest looked like it was about to fly off.
Lorne turned his gaze to Angel, “I need your help… he needs your help… we need to find his family…”
TBC

a/N: What do you think? Should I continue?
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The Forgotten Hyena