The men stood in a circle in the lobby of Wolfram and Hart, conversing after seeing Fred.
"How is she handling it?" Angel asked.
"She's smarter than all of us put together. She knows it's bad," Wesley replied.
"How bad? What do we know?" Gunn questioned.
"Whatever she's got, it doesn't match up with any of the pathogens in our archives. It's mystical, and it's not ours," Knox explained.
"What about the sarcophagus?" Angel tapped his foot absently.
"My team is cross-checking the symbols, but it's also new territory for us," Wesley spoke up.
"Angel, what exactly is happening to her? You talked to the doctor - " Gunn was cut off.
"They have something?" Wesley asked, almost desperately.
"Yeah, I, uh... some parasitic agent is working its way through. I mean, as near as they can tell..." Angel trailed off.
"Get to the point," Wesley said harshly.
"Her organs are cooking. In a days time, they'll liquefy," Angel replied softly.
"No. Not this girl. Not this day," Spike said to the group, voice firm.
"Look, Wes, you gotta tell me what was in that box. I need a name, a history, anything," Angel demanded.
"We can't get it open. Not even the lasers - " Knox started.
"Where did it come from?" Wesley turned to him.
"It just showed up. No return address. Didn't recognize the guy who brought it in... come to think of it, in the middle of the night," Knox explained.
"This was deliberate," Angel realised.
"Senior Partners?" Lorne suggested.
"Doesn't add up, but I'll hit the White Room. Talk to the conduit," Gunn said.
"Now, look, if the Senior Partners didn't do this, you gotta get them to help us," Angel told him.
"Any way I can," Gunn replied.
"What about Lindsey? The man likes to play his games," Spike said.
"I was looking to work the streets, and we've got his address. For all we know, he's probably sitting there laughing. And if there's muscle work to do..." Angel put in.
"Let's make it twice as fast." Spike was determined.
"And baby makes three — in case anybody feels like singing," Lorne spoke up.
"Good. Guys..." Angel began.
"You don't have to say it," Wesley said.
"I'll say it anyway. Winifred Burkle. Go," Angel ordered.
The men all left in opposite directions.