Some Rain Must Fall, chapter 2
Aug. 10th, 2005 03:25 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
psubratChallenge code: 1BG15
Title: Some Rain Must Fall
Author: PSUbrat
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: All characters belong to Joss Whedon and whomever else he sells them to, I’m just borrowing them for a while.
Description: This story is completely AU and set in 1928 Chicago. No vampires. No Slayers. Just lots of mobsters and Feds.
Author’s Note: This was written in response to the LJ community![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
watchersdiaries's art-a-thon reversed challenge. I’d like to thank ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
wings13 and gloryliberty for their help with my grammatical problems and eurydice72 for her honest opinions and betaing prowess.
Summary: It’s 1928 Chicago. Prohibition is at its height and mobsters Al Capone and Bugs Moran run the city, including the local law enforcement agencies. The Pratt kidnapping case is the last thing that private detective, Wesley Wyndam-Pryce, expects to have come across his desk, but it does. Now he must deal with his past, which includes a young, feisty brunette name Faith Lehane and the murder of his wife, Winifred, in order to find the missing Buffy Pratt before it’s too late.
Chapter 1 - Silver Liquid Drops can be found here.
It wasn’t the moniker that shocked him, but the sultry voice that said it. Suddenly he was transported back in time to his first day teaching classes at St. Benedict’s, when a sassy, raven-haired student flounced into his classroom and declared her undying love for him.
“Faith?” Wesley asked, wondering if the rain and fog were playing tricks on his eyes as well as on his ears. After all, the only available light in the alley cast a soft glow that created long shadows across the girl’s face.
Faith flashed him a brilliant smile. “One and the same, Father.”
How long had it been since he had seen the young woman? Three years? Five? It felt like a lifetime ago. Faith Lehane was the last person he expected to see this evening, especially in an alleyway outside of Caritas.
“Please, call me Wesley. I haven’t been a priest in a very long time, and Mr. Wyndam-Pryce is my father.”
“Okay then, Wes. I’d heard you’d left shortly after my class graduated. You were a priest, for what, five minutes?” she asked with a grin.
“Two years.”
“You married our librarian, right? What was her name?” she mused while biting the side of her thumb. “Oh yeah! Miss Burkle. She was always really nice to me. I was sorry when I read about her death in the Sun-Times. No one deserves to go like that.”
The warmth from the hand that now rested on his forearm, in an obvious gesture of condolence, seeped through to his bones and rapidly spread to other parts of his body. Splotches of crimson appeared high on his cheeks. Feeling the blush reach his ears, he quickly cleared his throat and removed her hand from his arm.
“Thank you for your kind words, Faith. It’s been a difficult time to say the least.”
“I can’t even imagine,” she replied softly, still holding his hat in her right hand and staring at him intently with those large brown eyes. “You look good though. Still as handsome as ever.”
Suddenly he was exceptionally aware of how close she was standing to him. He could smell her perfume, a musky scent that screamed of primal sexuality. The urge to reach out and touch her became overwhelming. Ignoring his body’s response to her proximity, he set about re-holstering his gun and asking her questions. “Are you all right? Were you harmed?”
She shook her head. “I’m fine. Like I said, I had it under control.”
“What is it that you’re doing here? This isn’t exactly a place that a young lady, such as yourself, should be.”
Faith laughed, full and rich, as if he had just made the funniest joke she’d ever heard. “Hate to break it to you, Wes, but I’m not exactly a lady.”
“What makes you say that?”
“Well, for starters,” she began while she reached on her tip-toes to put the hat back on his head, “a lady is someone who can’t take care of herself. She needs to be protected. Me, I can take care of myself and I certainly don’t need any protecting.” She pulled the hat down further on his head, tilting it just right before she patted it on the last word, as if to emphasize her point.
“I see.”
“I don’t think you do, but everything’s jake.”
He watched her with rapt attention as she bent over to pick up an item from the ground in front of them. It was impossible not to notice her shapely, bare calves as her already short skirt and coat rode even higher, exposing just a hint of thigh.
“Damn. That was my favorite hat.” The item in question was now damp and limp and she gave it a few shakes before deciding that it was no longer wearable. “So what brings you to this joint?”
“Business,” he replied, rapidly trying to avert his eyes before she caught him looking at her legs. “I come here whenever I’m on a case.”
Cocking her head to the side, she gave him the full once over. “You’re a dick now?”
“Pardon?”
“A dick.” Off his look of total exasperation, she continued. “Oh come on, Wes. A dick. A gumshoe. A private detective. Geez, you’d think I was talking a different language or something from the look on your face.”
“Right. Private detective.” He should have known that’s what she meant, but her whole demeanor had put him off balance. Of course, it didn’t help that he wasn’t up on the latest trendy words, or the latest women’s fashions either. “I’ve been a private detective since I left St. Benedict’s. I had to support myself somehow and this seemed the most logical choice.”
She seemed to consider his words for a few moments, frowning as she tried to fit the puzzle pieces together. “Not to sound dumb or anything, but how did you make the leap from history teacher to a dick?”
That was the first question most people asked when they found out his former profession, that and if he was still a good Catholic. “Oh, right. I guess not every ex-priest who taught history becomes a private detective. My father was a prosecuting attorney and my mother’s father was a beat cop here in Chicago. Consequently I’ve always had this inordinate fascination with criminal history.”
“Makes sense now that you put it that way. I guess everyone has to obsess over something, huh?”
They both paused when they heard a door open and close in the distance, the muted sound of music and laughter briefly echoing off the brick walls.
“As much as I hate to break up this little reunion…I gotta get back inside. Boss is gonna be looking for me soon.”
“Boss?”
“Yeah, the owner of this fine establishment. He sent me out here to take care of that bastard Warren. Creep’s been making unwanted advances on some of the cigarette girls the last few nights, so I wanted to put the fear of God in him. Guess that’s just gonna have to wait another day or two now. You coming, hero?” she asked, stopping abruptly and looking over her shoulder when she realized he wasn’t following her.
“That had been my intention prior to coming to your rescue.” The glare he received for his effort at the small joke was enough to make him smile as he followed her in the direction of the hidden entrance.
Wesley left his hat and trench coat with the cloakroom check girl once they were inside. While he waited for his ticket, the two women chatted amicably so he was able to covertly take in Faith’s appearance. Underneath the dark beige overcoat she’d also taken off and handed to the girl, she was wearing one of those indecent Flapper dresses that Wesley knew Fred would have loved had she still been alive. This one was of deep navy blue satin with matching fringe, thin straps and short length – resting about an inch above the knee. Completing her ensemble was the hat that he had watched her pick up outside. He was sure that it was supposed to match the dress, but now after lying in a puddle of mud, it looked a little worse for wear. Her long, dark tresses, which had probably been done in loose curls before the rain ruined them, now hung in a wavy mass about her shoulders and upper back.
Despite the dirt smudged on her left cheek from the struggle outside, he couldn’t help noticing that she had grown into a beautiful young woman, one that any man would have been a fool not to notice. She was sensual and voluptuous, and obviously not binding her breasts in that awful brassiere contraption that was all the rage with her peers. No, there was nothing unfeminine at all about Faith Lehane.
Her large chocolate eyes were warm and engaging whenever she looked over at him, giving him a smile as she did. Each time, his insides felt as if they were melting. What was it about this woman that made him so utterly uneasy in his own skin?
Once he received his coat ticket, he set about looking for the proprietor. Surprisingly, Faith tagged along beside him. The place was jam-packed for a Tuesday night, every table near the stage was occupied and the dance floor was filled to capacity as the band played the latest swing tune. His cousin always managed to get the best bands and draw the biggest crowds. Needless to say, Lorne was raking in the big bucks, but how much of that, Wes wondered, was Lorne paying out in order to keep the law off his back? Probably a hefty sum, but nobody would know it from the look of things.
Caritas was breathtaking. By most standards, the club was enormous, spanning the entire length of the warehouse’s basement, and it boasted the best kitchen on the north side. Six chandeliers of varying sizes, more than likely made from Waterford crystal, hung from the ceiling in a cascade of prisms while the sconces were set in nothing less than fourteen carat gold plate along walls covered in crimson floral prints. The red and gold tablecloths were made of the finest linen and the food was served only on the best of china. In the center of each table was a bouquet of freshly cut flowers that were delivered, discreetly, every afternoon by one of the most sought after florists in the city. Everyone who was anyone wound up here at some point or another during the evening. It was even rumored that Lorne had an agreement with Moran and Capone that allowed both sides to come and go freely, thus ensuring that Caritas was a safe haven for all.
Wesley always liked coming to his cousin’s place of business, even if at times his conscience got the better of him. Caritas embodied what the country could be like if Prohibition were repealed and the mobsters and Feds faded away to nothing but background noise. If wishes were horses, his mother used to say.
As they threaded their way through the masses towards the bar, it became difficult for him and Faith to walk side by side. Before he knew it, Faith had wrapped her arm around his, pressing her body close to his lithe form. He saw heads turn as they walked by, men wanting to be him because of the beautiful brunette on his arm. Something inside him made him walk just a little bit taller at the realization.
“Hey, Boss,” Faith called cheerily to a tall man who was serving drinks to a group of gentlemen at the end of the bar.
“Hey, princess, you take care of that problem we were talking about earlier?” he asked without turning around.
“Uh uh. Hit a snag, but I’ll get him tomorrow night. Look what I found outside instead.”
The Irishman whirled around, a toothy grin spreading across his face as he did so. “Wesley Wyndam-Pryce, as I live and breathe!”
“I take it you two know each other?”
“Know each other? Hell, doll, he’s family. What’s up, cousin? Does your mama know you’re hanging around with the riff raff of society?”
“Lorne,” Wesley stated with a grin as he shook his cousin’s hand. “How have you been?”
“I’m doing just dandy. Been a while, huh? Can I get you anything? The usual?”
“Yes, please, whiskey straight up.”
“I’ll have the same,” Faith stated as she sat down on a barstool that a gentleman had vacated for her.
Lorne didn’t bat an eyelash as he served up the drinks, but Wesley was stunned yet again by Faith’s forwardness. He’d heard about women like her, ones that demanded change and marched on Washington in protest for equal rights, but he’d never actually met any in person. If he were a gambling man, he’d have bet that she would have been a mover and shaker during women’s suffrage if she hadn’t been so young at the time.
After a few sips of the whiskey and some pleasant small talk about the families, Wesley cut straight to the chase. “Actually, the reason I’m here is that I have a few questions I need to ask you.”
The smile on Lorne’s face faded. “You never just come to visit me anymore, you know that, right?” He sighed heavily. “Wesley-kins, I can’t keep feeding you information. If anyone were to ever find out…”
“Lorne, please, no one will find out. Besides, we’re family, the two of us talking looks perfectly natural.”
“Ain’t nothing natural about an Englishman and an Irishman being family, Wes,” Lorne shot back with a smirk.
“Agreed, although you may want to take that up with my parents. I’m sure they’d be happy to hear from you.”
“Now why am I doubting that statement?”
“Mother would love to see you again.”
“That’s probably true, but Pops on the other hand…”
Wesley’s English father had come to Chicago on business, around the turn of the century, and there he had met and fallen in love with Wesley’s mother, a first generation American, born to Irish Catholic immigrants. They married within a few months of their first date and nine months later, Wesley was born. For most of his life, he had been raised in London, but when his maternal grandmother had fallen terminally ill, his family had moved to Chicago to be with her. It had been with her dying breath that she had made Wesley promise to become a priest.
“Do you think we can go somewhere private?”
“Sure thing.” Taking a quick look around to see if anyone was listening to them, Lorne leaned over the bar and in hushed tones asked, “It’s about Buffy Pratt, isn’t it?”
“How’d you know it was about Buffy?”
“What about Buffy?” Faith demanded, her tone harsh and her eyes wide in surprise.
“Not here,” Wesley replied sharply.
Faith quickly nodded in understanding.
“Let me just get Charles to take over and we’ll go back to my office. At least that’s one place I know no one will be eavesdropping. Meet me by the backstage door.”
“Right.” Hopefully he’d be able to get some answers to what had happened to Buffy before the night was out. “Faith, it was nice seeing you again. Please take care of yourself…”
“Just where do you think you’re going?” she growled, grabbing his upper arm as he walked by.
“You know exactly where I’m going.”
“Not without me you’re not.”
“Faith, this doesn’t concern you…”
“No, but it concerns someone I was close to at one time. Don’t shut me out of this, Wes. If there’s any way I can help her, I’m going to, with or without your blessing. I have my reasons.”
Once he saw the resolve on her face, he knew there was no way he was going into that back room without her by his side. “Fine. You can come to the meeting, but you will not, under any circumstances, go looking for her by yourself. Is that clear?”
“Crystal.”
He nodded in response and then offered his arm for her to take. At least this way people would just assume he was going in the back for other reasons that had nothing to do with Lorne.
They met Lorne by the backstage door and then followed him through the small maze of hallways to his office. Wesley still wasn’t comfortable with the fact that Faith had insinuated herself into this case, even if she had been Buffy’s best friend once upon a time. When he’d first arrived at St. Benedict’s, he’d heard that the two girls had become inseparable from an early age, growing up in the same neighborhood with parents who had been good friends when they went to school together. Faith had always been the more outgoing of the pair, but from what he had observed in, and out, of the classroom, Buffy Summers held her own. He had just assumed the two women would always be friends, so he’d been quite surprised when Faith was nowhere to be seen at Buffy and Spike’s wedding.
“Someone want to explain to me what the hell happened to Buffy?”
Wesley glared at her as he ushered her into the office, with Lorne hot on his heels.
“We’re free to talk in here,” Lorne said, closing the door and locking it.
“What do you know about Buffy Pratt?” demanded Wesley as he turned away from Faith and walked over to his cousin’s side.
“I know that she was here last night with Cordelia Chase.”
“She was here?” Faith asked incredulously. “How come I didn’t see her?”
“Because princess, darling, I kept you occupied elsewhere. The last thing I wanted with the Mayor here was a catfight.” He paused for a moment, a grin spreading across his features. “You know, now that I think about it, I probably could’ve sold tickets to something like that. Ouch!” he yelped when Faith punched his arm. “What was that for?”
“Just for being you.”
Wesley raised a questioning eyebrow, wanting to know what exactly had occurred between the two girls to warrant a fight.
“I don’t want to talk about it right now,” Faith said defensively. “It’s not important.”
“Getting back on topic here,” he then persisted since Faith refused to elaborate further, “you’re completely certain you saw Buffy here last night?”
“Absolutely.”
“Around what time?”
“I’d say it was about ten-thirty, maybe a little earlier.”
“Strange. Cordelia Chase told Spike that the last time she saw Buffy was at the theater as Buffy got into a cab.”
“Someone’s lying seeing as how they were both here after the theater.”
“Did you see anything odd?”
“Please. Odd around here is normal. I run a speakeasy in case you hadn’t noticed.”
“Was anyone watching them? Maybe one of Capone’s men?”
Lorne shook his head. “No, I didn’t see anything like that. At least not in the way you mean. Besides, Caritas is a safe haven. No one would dare do anything within a two-mile radius of this place for fear of having to answer to either Al or Bugs. And believe me when I say it wouldn’t be pretty. But there was this guy…”
“What guy?” both Faith and Wesley asked at the same time.
“Liam O’Connor. He had me send over a couple of drinks to their table.”
“Angel sent them drinks? That’s really not jake,” Faith stated, wrapping her arms around herself and shuddering.
“Why not?”
“Angel’s not exactly one of the good guys, if you know what I mean, Cuz. Don’t let the name fool you. Just because he looks angelic, doesn’t mean he is.”
Wesley looked over at Faith who still appeared spooked by that fact that Angel had sent the women drinks. She was shaking. “Faith, are you all right? You’re freezing.” He removed his suit coat and draped it over her shoulders. “You should really get out of those wet clothes…”
“I’m fine, Wes. Thanks.”
“Lorne, is there anything else that you can remember?”
“Yeah, the next time I saw Buffy, she was leaving with Angel.”
“Wait,” Faith said, putting a hand on Lorne’s forearm. “Buffy left with Angel? No way. I don’t believe that for a second.”
“It’s the god’s honest truth. The two of them left here together.”
Wesley frowned. Something didn’t add up. Why would Buffy leave with another man? Was she having an affair? If she was, it didn’t make any sense. He had never seen two people more in love than Buffy and Spike, except for maybe himself and Fred. “Was she being forced to leave with him?”
Lorne shook his head. “Nah, it looked consensual to me, but then again, he could have had a gun on her and no one would have known. Like I said, nothing violent goes down in here without repercussions. So today when I heard through the grapevine that she had gone missing, I wasn’t sure what to think.”
“I see.” At this point, Wesley didn’t know what to think either. “Keep me informed if you hear anything else. I’d like to believe the best when it comes to Buffy.”
“Yeah, I know how close you are with her family, that’s why I figured you’d be asking about her. I’ll be in touch. Buffy’s a sweet kid. I hope she’s not in any trouble.”
“Thank you for your help. At least I have some place to start.” It wasn’t the best of places, but it was something. He’d been so engrossed in getting answers from Lorne that he hadn’t realized his arm was still around Faith’s shoulders, trying to keep her warm. “If it’s all right with you, I’m going to take Faith back to her place. She’s obviously in no condition to work the rest of the evening.”
“Sure. That’s perfectly fine. I’ll see you tomorrow, princess.”
“Yeah, see you,” Faith managed to squeak out between her chattering teeth before Wesley led her towards the door and back through Caritas.
To be continued in Chapter 3 – Lost Inhibitions
Title: Some Rain Must Fall
Author: PSUbrat
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: All characters belong to Joss Whedon and whomever else he sells them to, I’m just borrowing them for a while.
Description: This story is completely AU and set in 1928 Chicago. No vampires. No Slayers. Just lots of mobsters and Feds.
Author’s Note: This was written in response to the LJ community
watchersdiaries's art-a-thon reversed challenge. I’d like to thank wings13 and gloryliberty for their help with my grammatical problems and eurydice72 for her honest opinions and betaing prowess.Summary: It’s 1928 Chicago. Prohibition is at its height and mobsters Al Capone and Bugs Moran run the city, including the local law enforcement agencies. The Pratt kidnapping case is the last thing that private detective, Wesley Wyndam-Pryce, expects to have come across his desk, but it does. Now he must deal with his past, which includes a young, feisty brunette name Faith Lehane and the murder of his wife, Winifred, in order to find the missing Buffy Pratt before it’s too late.
Chapter 1 - Silver Liquid Drops can be found here.
Chapter 2: Song of the Siren
It wasn’t the moniker that shocked him, but the sultry voice that said it. Suddenly he was transported back in time to his first day teaching classes at St. Benedict’s, when a sassy, raven-haired student flounced into his classroom and declared her undying love for him.
“Faith?” Wesley asked, wondering if the rain and fog were playing tricks on his eyes as well as on his ears. After all, the only available light in the alley cast a soft glow that created long shadows across the girl’s face.
Faith flashed him a brilliant smile. “One and the same, Father.”
How long had it been since he had seen the young woman? Three years? Five? It felt like a lifetime ago. Faith Lehane was the last person he expected to see this evening, especially in an alleyway outside of Caritas.
“Please, call me Wesley. I haven’t been a priest in a very long time, and Mr. Wyndam-Pryce is my father.”
“Okay then, Wes. I’d heard you’d left shortly after my class graduated. You were a priest, for what, five minutes?” she asked with a grin.
“Two years.”
“You married our librarian, right? What was her name?” she mused while biting the side of her thumb. “Oh yeah! Miss Burkle. She was always really nice to me. I was sorry when I read about her death in the Sun-Times. No one deserves to go like that.”
The warmth from the hand that now rested on his forearm, in an obvious gesture of condolence, seeped through to his bones and rapidly spread to other parts of his body. Splotches of crimson appeared high on his cheeks. Feeling the blush reach his ears, he quickly cleared his throat and removed her hand from his arm.
“Thank you for your kind words, Faith. It’s been a difficult time to say the least.”
“I can’t even imagine,” she replied softly, still holding his hat in her right hand and staring at him intently with those large brown eyes. “You look good though. Still as handsome as ever.”
Suddenly he was exceptionally aware of how close she was standing to him. He could smell her perfume, a musky scent that screamed of primal sexuality. The urge to reach out and touch her became overwhelming. Ignoring his body’s response to her proximity, he set about re-holstering his gun and asking her questions. “Are you all right? Were you harmed?”
She shook her head. “I’m fine. Like I said, I had it under control.”
“What is it that you’re doing here? This isn’t exactly a place that a young lady, such as yourself, should be.”
Faith laughed, full and rich, as if he had just made the funniest joke she’d ever heard. “Hate to break it to you, Wes, but I’m not exactly a lady.”
“What makes you say that?”
“Well, for starters,” she began while she reached on her tip-toes to put the hat back on his head, “a lady is someone who can’t take care of herself. She needs to be protected. Me, I can take care of myself and I certainly don’t need any protecting.” She pulled the hat down further on his head, tilting it just right before she patted it on the last word, as if to emphasize her point.
“I see.”
“I don’t think you do, but everything’s jake.”
He watched her with rapt attention as she bent over to pick up an item from the ground in front of them. It was impossible not to notice her shapely, bare calves as her already short skirt and coat rode even higher, exposing just a hint of thigh.
“Damn. That was my favorite hat.” The item in question was now damp and limp and she gave it a few shakes before deciding that it was no longer wearable. “So what brings you to this joint?”
“Business,” he replied, rapidly trying to avert his eyes before she caught him looking at her legs. “I come here whenever I’m on a case.”
Cocking her head to the side, she gave him the full once over. “You’re a dick now?”
“Pardon?”
“A dick.” Off his look of total exasperation, she continued. “Oh come on, Wes. A dick. A gumshoe. A private detective. Geez, you’d think I was talking a different language or something from the look on your face.”
“Right. Private detective.” He should have known that’s what she meant, but her whole demeanor had put him off balance. Of course, it didn’t help that he wasn’t up on the latest trendy words, or the latest women’s fashions either. “I’ve been a private detective since I left St. Benedict’s. I had to support myself somehow and this seemed the most logical choice.”
She seemed to consider his words for a few moments, frowning as she tried to fit the puzzle pieces together. “Not to sound dumb or anything, but how did you make the leap from history teacher to a dick?”
That was the first question most people asked when they found out his former profession, that and if he was still a good Catholic. “Oh, right. I guess not every ex-priest who taught history becomes a private detective. My father was a prosecuting attorney and my mother’s father was a beat cop here in Chicago. Consequently I’ve always had this inordinate fascination with criminal history.”
“Makes sense now that you put it that way. I guess everyone has to obsess over something, huh?”
They both paused when they heard a door open and close in the distance, the muted sound of music and laughter briefly echoing off the brick walls.
“As much as I hate to break up this little reunion…I gotta get back inside. Boss is gonna be looking for me soon.”
“Boss?”
“Yeah, the owner of this fine establishment. He sent me out here to take care of that bastard Warren. Creep’s been making unwanted advances on some of the cigarette girls the last few nights, so I wanted to put the fear of God in him. Guess that’s just gonna have to wait another day or two now. You coming, hero?” she asked, stopping abruptly and looking over her shoulder when she realized he wasn’t following her.
“That had been my intention prior to coming to your rescue.” The glare he received for his effort at the small joke was enough to make him smile as he followed her in the direction of the hidden entrance.
***
Wesley left his hat and trench coat with the cloakroom check girl once they were inside. While he waited for his ticket, the two women chatted amicably so he was able to covertly take in Faith’s appearance. Underneath the dark beige overcoat she’d also taken off and handed to the girl, she was wearing one of those indecent Flapper dresses that Wesley knew Fred would have loved had she still been alive. This one was of deep navy blue satin with matching fringe, thin straps and short length – resting about an inch above the knee. Completing her ensemble was the hat that he had watched her pick up outside. He was sure that it was supposed to match the dress, but now after lying in a puddle of mud, it looked a little worse for wear. Her long, dark tresses, which had probably been done in loose curls before the rain ruined them, now hung in a wavy mass about her shoulders and upper back.
Despite the dirt smudged on her left cheek from the struggle outside, he couldn’t help noticing that she had grown into a beautiful young woman, one that any man would have been a fool not to notice. She was sensual and voluptuous, and obviously not binding her breasts in that awful brassiere contraption that was all the rage with her peers. No, there was nothing unfeminine at all about Faith Lehane.
Her large chocolate eyes were warm and engaging whenever she looked over at him, giving him a smile as she did. Each time, his insides felt as if they were melting. What was it about this woman that made him so utterly uneasy in his own skin?
Once he received his coat ticket, he set about looking for the proprietor. Surprisingly, Faith tagged along beside him. The place was jam-packed for a Tuesday night, every table near the stage was occupied and the dance floor was filled to capacity as the band played the latest swing tune. His cousin always managed to get the best bands and draw the biggest crowds. Needless to say, Lorne was raking in the big bucks, but how much of that, Wes wondered, was Lorne paying out in order to keep the law off his back? Probably a hefty sum, but nobody would know it from the look of things.
Caritas was breathtaking. By most standards, the club was enormous, spanning the entire length of the warehouse’s basement, and it boasted the best kitchen on the north side. Six chandeliers of varying sizes, more than likely made from Waterford crystal, hung from the ceiling in a cascade of prisms while the sconces were set in nothing less than fourteen carat gold plate along walls covered in crimson floral prints. The red and gold tablecloths were made of the finest linen and the food was served only on the best of china. In the center of each table was a bouquet of freshly cut flowers that were delivered, discreetly, every afternoon by one of the most sought after florists in the city. Everyone who was anyone wound up here at some point or another during the evening. It was even rumored that Lorne had an agreement with Moran and Capone that allowed both sides to come and go freely, thus ensuring that Caritas was a safe haven for all.
Wesley always liked coming to his cousin’s place of business, even if at times his conscience got the better of him. Caritas embodied what the country could be like if Prohibition were repealed and the mobsters and Feds faded away to nothing but background noise. If wishes were horses, his mother used to say.
As they threaded their way through the masses towards the bar, it became difficult for him and Faith to walk side by side. Before he knew it, Faith had wrapped her arm around his, pressing her body close to his lithe form. He saw heads turn as they walked by, men wanting to be him because of the beautiful brunette on his arm. Something inside him made him walk just a little bit taller at the realization.
“Hey, Boss,” Faith called cheerily to a tall man who was serving drinks to a group of gentlemen at the end of the bar.
“Hey, princess, you take care of that problem we were talking about earlier?” he asked without turning around.
“Uh uh. Hit a snag, but I’ll get him tomorrow night. Look what I found outside instead.”
The Irishman whirled around, a toothy grin spreading across his face as he did so. “Wesley Wyndam-Pryce, as I live and breathe!”
“I take it you two know each other?”
“Know each other? Hell, doll, he’s family. What’s up, cousin? Does your mama know you’re hanging around with the riff raff of society?”
“Lorne,” Wesley stated with a grin as he shook his cousin’s hand. “How have you been?”
“I’m doing just dandy. Been a while, huh? Can I get you anything? The usual?”
“Yes, please, whiskey straight up.”
“I’ll have the same,” Faith stated as she sat down on a barstool that a gentleman had vacated for her.
Lorne didn’t bat an eyelash as he served up the drinks, but Wesley was stunned yet again by Faith’s forwardness. He’d heard about women like her, ones that demanded change and marched on Washington in protest for equal rights, but he’d never actually met any in person. If he were a gambling man, he’d have bet that she would have been a mover and shaker during women’s suffrage if she hadn’t been so young at the time.
After a few sips of the whiskey and some pleasant small talk about the families, Wesley cut straight to the chase. “Actually, the reason I’m here is that I have a few questions I need to ask you.”
The smile on Lorne’s face faded. “You never just come to visit me anymore, you know that, right?” He sighed heavily. “Wesley-kins, I can’t keep feeding you information. If anyone were to ever find out…”
“Lorne, please, no one will find out. Besides, we’re family, the two of us talking looks perfectly natural.”
“Ain’t nothing natural about an Englishman and an Irishman being family, Wes,” Lorne shot back with a smirk.
“Agreed, although you may want to take that up with my parents. I’m sure they’d be happy to hear from you.”
“Now why am I doubting that statement?”
“Mother would love to see you again.”
“That’s probably true, but Pops on the other hand…”
Wesley’s English father had come to Chicago on business, around the turn of the century, and there he had met and fallen in love with Wesley’s mother, a first generation American, born to Irish Catholic immigrants. They married within a few months of their first date and nine months later, Wesley was born. For most of his life, he had been raised in London, but when his maternal grandmother had fallen terminally ill, his family had moved to Chicago to be with her. It had been with her dying breath that she had made Wesley promise to become a priest.
“Do you think we can go somewhere private?”
“Sure thing.” Taking a quick look around to see if anyone was listening to them, Lorne leaned over the bar and in hushed tones asked, “It’s about Buffy Pratt, isn’t it?”
“How’d you know it was about Buffy?”
“What about Buffy?” Faith demanded, her tone harsh and her eyes wide in surprise.
“Not here,” Wesley replied sharply.
Faith quickly nodded in understanding.
“Let me just get Charles to take over and we’ll go back to my office. At least that’s one place I know no one will be eavesdropping. Meet me by the backstage door.”
“Right.” Hopefully he’d be able to get some answers to what had happened to Buffy before the night was out. “Faith, it was nice seeing you again. Please take care of yourself…”
“Just where do you think you’re going?” she growled, grabbing his upper arm as he walked by.
“You know exactly where I’m going.”
“Not without me you’re not.”
“Faith, this doesn’t concern you…”
“No, but it concerns someone I was close to at one time. Don’t shut me out of this, Wes. If there’s any way I can help her, I’m going to, with or without your blessing. I have my reasons.”
Once he saw the resolve on her face, he knew there was no way he was going into that back room without her by his side. “Fine. You can come to the meeting, but you will not, under any circumstances, go looking for her by yourself. Is that clear?”
“Crystal.”
He nodded in response and then offered his arm for her to take. At least this way people would just assume he was going in the back for other reasons that had nothing to do with Lorne.
***
They met Lorne by the backstage door and then followed him through the small maze of hallways to his office. Wesley still wasn’t comfortable with the fact that Faith had insinuated herself into this case, even if she had been Buffy’s best friend once upon a time. When he’d first arrived at St. Benedict’s, he’d heard that the two girls had become inseparable from an early age, growing up in the same neighborhood with parents who had been good friends when they went to school together. Faith had always been the more outgoing of the pair, but from what he had observed in, and out, of the classroom, Buffy Summers held her own. He had just assumed the two women would always be friends, so he’d been quite surprised when Faith was nowhere to be seen at Buffy and Spike’s wedding.
“Someone want to explain to me what the hell happened to Buffy?”
Wesley glared at her as he ushered her into the office, with Lorne hot on his heels.
“We’re free to talk in here,” Lorne said, closing the door and locking it.
“What do you know about Buffy Pratt?” demanded Wesley as he turned away from Faith and walked over to his cousin’s side.
“I know that she was here last night with Cordelia Chase.”
“She was here?” Faith asked incredulously. “How come I didn’t see her?”
“Because princess, darling, I kept you occupied elsewhere. The last thing I wanted with the Mayor here was a catfight.” He paused for a moment, a grin spreading across his features. “You know, now that I think about it, I probably could’ve sold tickets to something like that. Ouch!” he yelped when Faith punched his arm. “What was that for?”
“Just for being you.”
Wesley raised a questioning eyebrow, wanting to know what exactly had occurred between the two girls to warrant a fight.
“I don’t want to talk about it right now,” Faith said defensively. “It’s not important.”
“Getting back on topic here,” he then persisted since Faith refused to elaborate further, “you’re completely certain you saw Buffy here last night?”
“Absolutely.”
“Around what time?”
“I’d say it was about ten-thirty, maybe a little earlier.”
“Strange. Cordelia Chase told Spike that the last time she saw Buffy was at the theater as Buffy got into a cab.”
“Someone’s lying seeing as how they were both here after the theater.”
“Did you see anything odd?”
“Please. Odd around here is normal. I run a speakeasy in case you hadn’t noticed.”
“Was anyone watching them? Maybe one of Capone’s men?”
Lorne shook his head. “No, I didn’t see anything like that. At least not in the way you mean. Besides, Caritas is a safe haven. No one would dare do anything within a two-mile radius of this place for fear of having to answer to either Al or Bugs. And believe me when I say it wouldn’t be pretty. But there was this guy…”
“What guy?” both Faith and Wesley asked at the same time.
“Liam O’Connor. He had me send over a couple of drinks to their table.”
“Angel sent them drinks? That’s really not jake,” Faith stated, wrapping her arms around herself and shuddering.
“Why not?”
“Angel’s not exactly one of the good guys, if you know what I mean, Cuz. Don’t let the name fool you. Just because he looks angelic, doesn’t mean he is.”
Wesley looked over at Faith who still appeared spooked by that fact that Angel had sent the women drinks. She was shaking. “Faith, are you all right? You’re freezing.” He removed his suit coat and draped it over her shoulders. “You should really get out of those wet clothes…”
“I’m fine, Wes. Thanks.”
“Lorne, is there anything else that you can remember?”
“Yeah, the next time I saw Buffy, she was leaving with Angel.”
“Wait,” Faith said, putting a hand on Lorne’s forearm. “Buffy left with Angel? No way. I don’t believe that for a second.”
“It’s the god’s honest truth. The two of them left here together.”
Wesley frowned. Something didn’t add up. Why would Buffy leave with another man? Was she having an affair? If she was, it didn’t make any sense. He had never seen two people more in love than Buffy and Spike, except for maybe himself and Fred. “Was she being forced to leave with him?”
Lorne shook his head. “Nah, it looked consensual to me, but then again, he could have had a gun on her and no one would have known. Like I said, nothing violent goes down in here without repercussions. So today when I heard through the grapevine that she had gone missing, I wasn’t sure what to think.”
“I see.” At this point, Wesley didn’t know what to think either. “Keep me informed if you hear anything else. I’d like to believe the best when it comes to Buffy.”
“Yeah, I know how close you are with her family, that’s why I figured you’d be asking about her. I’ll be in touch. Buffy’s a sweet kid. I hope she’s not in any trouble.”
“Thank you for your help. At least I have some place to start.” It wasn’t the best of places, but it was something. He’d been so engrossed in getting answers from Lorne that he hadn’t realized his arm was still around Faith’s shoulders, trying to keep her warm. “If it’s all right with you, I’m going to take Faith back to her place. She’s obviously in no condition to work the rest of the evening.”
“Sure. That’s perfectly fine. I’ll see you tomorrow, princess.”
“Yeah, see you,” Faith managed to squeak out between her chattering teeth before Wesley led her towards the door and back through Caritas.
To be continued in Chapter 3 – Lost Inhibitions
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2005-08-10 08:13 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-08-10 08:20 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-08-10 10:04 pm (UTC)This is splendid. Looking forward to more.
no subject
Date: 2005-08-11 04:07 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-08-11 05:05 am (UTC)Uhm...hmmmm...I dunno. *eg*
This is splendid. Looking forward to more.
Thank you, dear. Happy to hear you're still enjoying it. :)
no subject
Date: 2005-08-11 05:05 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-08-11 01:49 pm (UTC)But, now that I think about it, the era to which this story is based, would probably have issues with black man being a side kick, or cop, or anything else really.
ok, good call then! :)
no subject
Date: 2005-08-11 07:16 pm (UTC)BTW, I did friend you, if you don't mind. I know that you're a big Wes/Faith person, and so am I. Just lettin' you know! Don't worry about friending back. I know how it is.
no subject
Date: 2005-08-11 10:29 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-08-12 04:23 am (UTC)Indeed. Wait until you see what else I've got cooked up for that wacky gal. Hee!
Friend away! I friended you back. Honestly, use Waith shippers need to band together! :)
no subject
Date: 2005-08-12 04:24 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-08-12 02:35 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-09-14 06:00 pm (UTC)