I couldn't help it.

And then I slept, and all was quiet. In an odd way, that was even worse. I hadn't slept alone in eight years, ever since the accident, and I found myself missing them terribly. But after a while, I decided it wasn't so bad. I would stay like this forever if it meant silence.

Never wake up. Never wake up.

* * * * *

"I don't understand," said Gunn. "How is that possible."

"I don't know. Klumqut wasn't very specific," Lorne said. "All I got out of him is that she's a sort of receptacle for souls. She can take them, give them, store them, whatever."

"That explains the pulling," Angel said.

"Not quite," said Wesley. "Aside from the amadosium keeping her asleep, it also takes her will away from her. She likely controls herself subconsciously, but the drug has taken that away. She doesn't know she's doing it."

"Do you have an antidote?"

"Wes has found a spell to purge the amadosium," Fred said. "And we've come up with a drug that should allow her to suppress the souls. We haven't had time to do much testing, but it should help her."

"Suppress?"

"According to her psych file, she has schizophrenia." Cordelia said. "It's probably the extra souls."

"Anyway Angel, I don't think you should be here when we wake her up," Wesley concluded.

"It's time to patrol anyway."

"I'll go with you," Gunn volunteered. "I don't think I'll be much help here."

"And I've got some appointments," said Lorne. "Not to mention that I am probably not the best face to wake up to."

"Fred? Cordelia?" Wesley asked. The two looked at each other.

"Yeah, we're in," Cordelia answered.

"All right then, let's get going."

{LA skyline. Wesley working a spell. Angel punching something in an alley.}

"Ich befehle Sie, abtrete Ihren Einfluß nach diesem Körper!" Wesley intoned.

Hannah's body spasmed, jerking roughly on the bed.

"Did it work?" asked Fred.

"No," replied Wesley in a short, strained voice. "Trust me, you'll know when it does."

"Aren't you going to give her the drug?" Cordelia asked.

"I'm not really comfortable shooting up an unconscious girl with an experimental drug and not giving her any chance to argue with me."

"Point taken."

"If you don't mind," said Wesley, turning back to the bed. "Ich befehle Sie, abtrete Ihren Einfluß nach diesem Körper!"

Hannah's body jerked again, her back arched and she threw her head back into the pillow. She screamed, and then collapsed back into the bed.

"I guess that's it," said Cordelia.

Hannah's eyes flew open, and she sat straight up, her hands over her ears.

"Get them out! Get them out!" she begged in a frantic half scream, "GetthemoutGetthemoutGetthemout!"

"Hold her!" barked Wesley.

Fred and Cordelia wrestled the squirming girl back onto the pillow as Wesley prepped the needle. He grabbed Hannah's arm, and injected the drug into a vein. It took effect quickly, and she stopped struggling.

"Oh, thank God, you made them stop." Hannah said, sounding profoundly relieved. "Where am I?"

"Los Angeles," Cordelia supplied.

"Oh," said Hannah, turning to look at her. "And you are?"

"I'm Cordelia, that's Fred and this is Wesley."

"Hannah Cormier. How did you get them to stop?"

"A spell and a drug," admitted Wesley, after the briefest hesitation. "You had been dosed with something that silenced the voices, but took away your will. Our drug and a modified spell lets you do both."

"Magic, eh. That's something they never tried in the institution," Hannah said wryly.

"We have some unusual resources," Fred told her. "I can't guarantee there won't be side effects. We had to invent it on pretty short notice."

"For silence, I'll risk it," Hannah replied.

"We didn't have time to make pills," Wesley apologized. "I'm afraid you're stuck with needles for a while."

"I don't like swallowing pills much anyway. How did you find me?"

"I get visions," Cordelia said. "I saw you and then Angel found you."

"Angel?"

"Our intrepid leader," Cordelia replied with only the faintest hint of sarcasm. "He's a vampire. But he's got a soul, so he's fairly safe."

"So a psychic, a warlock, a vampire and a chemist saved me?"

"And an anagogic demon, and Gunn," said Wesley. "He's very strong."

"Actually, I am a physicist and Wesley's more of a bookworm," added Fred.

"What are you people?"

"That's going to take some time," Cordelia warned.

"I'm not going anywhere."

{Wesley shooting Hannah up. Lorne in a smoky bar with a hooded figure. Angel and Gunn back to back in an alley, stakes out.}

"I don't think this is very effective," said Gunn, yawning and pocketing his stake.

"Hopefully Lorne is having better luck," Angel said, "But you're right. Staking your source before they talk is a little backward."

"They probably didn't know anything anyway."

"Angel?" came a voice from the end of the alley.

"How did you find us Lorne?" Gunn asked.

"I followed the dust bunnies," he admitted. "I found how who took her."

{Hyperion at night.}

Fred noiselessly entered Hannah's room and opened the curtains. The pinkish light of pre-dawn Los Angeles didn't provide much illumination, but it was better than nothing. As she moved through the room, Fred unconsciously began to hum, and then to sing.

"Are you sleeping? Are you sleeping?

Brother John. Brother John.

Morning bells are ringing. Morning bells are ringing.

Ding, ding, dong. Ding, ding, dong."

"We used to get in trouble for singing it that way."

"Oh, I'm sorry! I didn't mean to wake you," apologized Fred. "Why?"

"Because it's supposed to be sung in French," Hannah explained. "They're sticky about stuff like that in Quebec."

"How does it go?"

"Frère Jacques, Frère Jacques Dormez vous? Dormez vous?

Sonnez les mantines. Sonnez les matines. Din, din, don. Din, din, don."

{Aerial shot of the lobby}

"We cut that awfully close," Angel pointed out.

"Oh, I'd say you had at least another 30 seconds," said Gunn airily.

"Let's find the others," suggested Lorne. He put his hand to his temple. "And some Tylenol. I'm getting a headache."

"Why?"

"Oh who knows," Lorne said. "I was in some pretty interesting places last night. It's probably something I inhaled."

Cordelia met them on the landing.

"Did you find anything?" she asked.

"Yes, but the story isn't so interesting that I want to tell it repeatedly," Lorne said. "Is she awake?"

"She's alright. Our drug seems to be working, and she slept normally for about four hours."

"Is she up and about?"

"No, she's still recovering from the kidnapping. She says she doesn't remember eating or drinking much of anything."

"Then we'll meet in her room. She needs to hear this as much as we do." Angel said.

"Are you sure that's smart boss?" Gunn asked. "I mean it's going to be an odd story."

"Wesley and Fred have already told her just about everything," Cordelia pointed out. "She took it very well. She'll be fine. Let me go ahead and close the curtains."

Cordelia knocked on the door, and then entered. Wes and Fred were already inside.

"Company!" she announced, crossing the room to pull the blinds. "All clear."

Angel, Gunn and Lorne entered while Hannah set her teeth as she struggled to sit up. Even with Wesley's help it took obvious effort, but in the end she succeeded.

"Hannah, these are Angel, Gunn and Lorne," Cordelia supplied, indicating each in turn.

"Hi," Hannah said hesitantly. "Thank you."

"No problem, peanut, it's kind of Angel's mission in life," Lorne said cheerily, before turning serious. "I talked with a Grekkian last night who said he had sold some amadosium to a man named Sheldon Sarkov. He told me where I could locate Sarkov, but it was close to dawn, and we needed more weapons anyway."

"Ama-what?" Hannah interrupted.

"The bad drug," Wesley informed her. "Can we trust this Grekkian?"

"I interviewed him in a karaoke bar. He was telling the truth."

"Lorne can read people when they sing." Fred said as an aside to Hannah, "It's part of the empathy thing we talked about earlier."

"What did they want me for?" Hannah asked.

"He didn't know specifics, just that they needed the drug. But there'd be a huge demand for someone with your, uh, abilities on the black market," Lorne said. "You're likely worth a lot of money."

"Peachy."

"You're safe with us," Angel told her.

" 'Angels and ministers of grace defend us'?" Hannah said lightly.

"Hey, I kinda like that," said Gunn.

"A practical use for Hamlet has got to be a sign of the apocalypse," Cordelia said sardonically.

"We're getting a little off topic here," Angel said. "Our plan for tonight is to track Sarkov, get answers and deal with him. Gunn, I want you to stay here in case they find out where Hannah is. The rest of us are going hunting."

* * * * *

A.N. For the purists, Wesley said "I command you, relinquish your hold upon this body!" in German because it was the only non-romantic language in the "normal" alphabet that babble fish let me do. And because German is a good language for issuing commands. Frère Jacques is a French folk song whose English lyrics I didn't know existed until fifth grade, and using Ministers of Grace as a short hand for every body was started by Strega over at TWoP.