"No sign," Spike said.
"Look for plans," Angel told him. "Lindsey may be working alongside us, but that doesn't mean he's not planning things on the side."
The three of them looked towards the door as the knock was heard. Angel nodded at Spike and Spike opened it, revealing a dishevelled looking Eve.
"Well," Angel said. "I'll be damned all over again."
"Don't touch me," Eve pleaded.
"Hiding out from the Senior Partners, Eve? How many sick days do you get before they dock you?" Angel asked sarcastically. "Oh yeah, and I never did thank you for taking my soul."
"What do you want? Where's Lindsey?" Eve asked.
"Fred's dying. Some mystical parasite. Ring a bell?" Angel replied, ignoring her question.
"No, I don't know what you're talking about," Eve said, shaking her head. "I just needed help from..."
"What about your boyfriend, luv? You got some wacky scheme brewin'? Sending coffins about?" Spike put in.
"You two stay away from me!" Eve was almost hysterical now.
"Look, Eve, this happens quickly or very, very slowly." Angel shrugged.
"Sarcophagus. Older than anything we know," Spike explained.
"Lindsey and I had nothing to do with that. I'm not lying. I—I'm not. Have you... heard from him? About him?" she asked.
"Oh, this is truly poetical," Spike said, rolling his eyes.
"You're not saying what we need to hear," Angel told her, his tone menacing.
"Why would we do anything to Fred? Why would we even care about her?" Eve asked.
Lorne's eyes narrowed and he punched her in the face, shocking the two vampires. "Ooh. Oh, I'm sorry. That was a knuckle-buster. I'm Jake LaMotta over here. It's pathetic. Oh. Here's the thing, Eve, you're going to sing for me, and I'm going to read you right now. And here's one more thing... Winifred Burkle once told me after a sinful amount of Chinese food, and in lieu of absolutely nothing, I think a lot of people would choose to be green. Your shade, if they had the choice. If I hear one note—one quarter-note—that tells me you had any involvement, these two won't even have time to kill you. Oh, and anything by Diana Warren will also result in your death - well, except Rhythm of the Night."
"I wanna help. I swear to you. I've got nothing against Fred!" Eve protested.
"Say it...with a song in your heart," Angel said.
"Pretty as a picture, she is like a golden ring," Eve sang.
"She's clean," Lorne told the others.
"You've been wrong before," Angel pointed out.
"Yeah, and I might be now, but she reads clean. Her future's not too bright, but..." Lorne trailed off.
"What do you mean?!" Eve demanded.
"Well, nothing's written in stone - lately - but, uh, if I was about to face your future, I'd make like Carmen Miranda... and die." Lorne smiled and turned for the door.
"Wait. Please. Are you going to tell the Senior Partners where I am?" Eve asked.
"Hell of a bargaining chip," Spike shrugged.
"No, they can't help you. I mean it. If you're talking about a sarcophagus that doesn't match anything in our records... there's nothing that's not in our records except what came before. The Old Ones," Eve rushed out.
"The original demons. Before human kind. They were all driven out of this dimension." Angel's eyebrows furrowed.
"The ones that were still alive. But long before that, they were killing each other all the time, and they don't die the way we do. Wesley may not know it, but his source books can conjure up anything, not just our own stock. Tell him to look for the texts that are forgotten, the oldest scrolls. You need to find the Deeper Well."