Angel Season 6

Ep. 1: Children

It was pretty late in the afternoon when Santana made her way back to Angel's office. He wasn't there.

"He's out," Harmony told her apologetically. "He told me that if you came around again, I was supposed to call security."

Santana laughed. "Oh, Angel and his jokes. He's pretty funny sometimes."

Harmony looked at her like she was crazy. "Not really..."

Santana kept laughing, slowly backing away. "Well, you can call security, just tell them I'll be in his office, waiting for him. Or don't. It's fine."

Harmony looked torn, glancing between Santana and the phone. " I'm just going to call them, okay? I don't want Angel to be mad..."

"Sounds good!" Santana called, slipping through the double doors. "Let me know when he gets in!"

She pulled the office doors shut and let out a sigh of relief. Next, she slunk over to his desk and once again, took a seat in his chair. This was fun.

"Wesley, how dare you kidnap my son," she said gruffly, doing a pretty bad impression of Angel. "For that, I'm going to suffocate you, even though I'm a vampire, and know thousands of other faster ways of killing people."

She thought for a moment. "Spike, stop being so goddamn hot all the time, you're stealing my thunder. God Spike, I know you're better than me in every single way, but can't you see it's destroying my fragile ego?" She chuckled to herself, just as the doors burst open.

Santana leapt out of his seat like the chair was on fire. "Angel! Harmony said you were out, so I was just going to wait in your office-"

Angel stormed inside, covered with some sort of liquid, and tossed a bag onto his desk. Santana narrowly avoided getting hit by something that smelt like sea salt and gym socks.

"Santana, I told you to get out," Angel growled, storming past her. He reeked of the same smell.

"Angel, we still have a lot to talk about. Like... the sarcophagus, um... the apocalypse... the last vision you got from Cordy..."

He spun, drops of the substance splattering onto Santana. "How do you know all of that? I understand if maybe Buffy sent you to spy on me, but I haven't said a goddamn word about Cordelia's vision! There's no possible way for you to know about that. So I'll ask you for the last time; who are you?"

She swallowed hard, his face uncomfortable close to hers. "Someone who just wants you to take a few steps back and then hop in a shower?"

Angel grabbed her by the throat and slammed her against the wall, once again.
"Not good enough," he told her. Santana clawed at his hand, her purse too far away to reach.

"Angel, I've told you everything I can tell you," she wheezed. "What more do you want from me?"

"I want answers," he demanded. "You're lying to me, and I want the truth!"

"You want the truth? You want the truth?" Santana repeated, black spots appearing in her vision. "Here's the truth; Buffy is going to die!"

Angel let her go, probably out of shock. "What? Really? When? Why didn't you say something sooner?"

Santana held up a finger, telling him to wait as she gasped for breath. "I mean... well... because..." she stood up straight. "Its probability going to be in 40 years. Everybody dies eventually, you know. Even you."

Angel's face slowly changed from shock, confusion, to anger. "Santana!" He roared, making a grab for her with his slime covered arms.

She had seen that coming. She ducked under him, grabbing her purse from the ground and ripping her heels off. She threw one of the shoes, hitting Angel directly in the face, buying her time to rummage through her bag for a weapon.