"Angel," Wesley mutters, keeping his voice low. "You have to understand... this is terribly urgent."

Pushing the door open with a jingle, Angel strides to the counter and picks a number. Turning back to others he finally speaks. "Well, it'll just have to be urgent while I'm picking up my laundry, okay?"

"You have to understand Angel." Wesley paces a couple steps to and fro before him, nervously fiddling with the printouts in his hand. "According to the new translations I've uncovered, there are some... rather disturbing similarities turning up to the Book of Revelations that..."

Standing off to the side, hands planted in pockets, Spike rolls his eyes to the ceiling. "Oh, great. Another bloody apocalypse. Y'know, it's really starting to lose it's punch, all this, 'the end is nigh,' nonsense. It's been nigh about once a week lately, innit?"

Conscientiously ignoring the interruption, Wesley continues. "What I'm talking about, Angel, is the prophecy. The biblical text that can also be found within the Shanshu prophecy. Not all of it is the same but a great deal of it is. And a great deal of it relates in some way to the prophecies about the vampire with a soul: The beast that rises out of the sea... His head bearing a blasphemous name... He is stabbed through the chest with a sword, yet comes back... The dragon – which is widely thought to be Satan, or perhaps some sort of great evil... the greatest evil, perhaps – the dragon hands over to this beast the seat of great power from which he rules for 42 months..."

Wesley's words at last seem to be sinking in. Angel frowns at what he's hearing. "Wait a minute... You're not saying what I think you're saying?"
Snickering, Spike approaches them and leans in, looking down at the papers in Wesley's hand. Annoyed by Spike's intrusion into his personal space – the edge of the stupid coat brushing against the legs of Angel's tailored slacks – Angel takes a step back, glaring at the younger vampire as he does so. Spike catches the look and smirks up at him.

"Well, well, well...," he chuckles. "Sounds a bit like someone we know, doesn't it?"

"Angel," Wesley says, snatching the papers out of Spike's reach and stuffing them back into his satchel. "There is still a need for a great deal more research before any conclusions can be drawn. It is, however, rather urgent that we rule out the possibility that–"

"You're the beast!" Spike laughs, pulling a hand from his pocket to point a finger at Angel. "Oh, this is rich! Y'know, I always knew you were a bit of a beast, but this... this is impressive. You're not just any run of the mill, big, dumb beast, you're the big, dumb beast!" He saunters in close to Angel. The damn coat swishing up against his legs again. He leans against the counter and touches tongue to teeth playfully, cocking his head up at Angel. "Ooh! Hey! Can I have your autograph?" He flutters his eyelashes in mock flirtation.

Angel shoves him roughly away and he goes stumbling back, coat flapping, laughing with great amusement as he skids to a stop several feet away. He shuts up momentarily as he finds his feet again.

"I'm not the beast, Spike!" Angel shouts. The little brat. He would find this funny. All he wanted to do was pick up his laundry like a normal person. But of course, Spike had to tag along. And Wesley with his interminable prophecies and printouts. This tidbit of news is not something he particularly wanted to hear right now.

Several other customers look up uneasily at the disturbance. Spike just shakes his head, chuckling as he dusts himself off. Wesley clears his throat, about to say something reassuring, no doubt. Angel cuts him off before he has the chance.

"I'm not the beast," he says more quietly. "I'm not. I can't be. I mean... I'm a good guy." He jabs a finger at his chest emphatically. "Good guy, Wesley."

" Yes." Wesley nods in agreement. "Good guy. Quite."

Spike snorts rather loudly, but maintains his distance from them, smirking gleefully from across the room.

"Okay. So... we'll get back to the office and do some more research and figure this thing out," Angel reasons, glancing down at his number to see if it's anywhere near his turn yet. "Because, no way am I the–"

He freezes, staring down at his ticket.

"Angel?" Wesley inquires, stepping forward to have a look. He freezes as well.

Curious, Spike ventures to approach the two of them. Seeing the number on the ticket, he throws his head back and bursts into laughter once again.

Angel stares at his number — 666. How could the numbers even go that high at a place like this? There has to be some kind of mistake. Beside him, Spike doubles over, grabbing onto the counter to keep from falling over, he's laughing so hard. Angel scowls.

"Oh, crap," he mutters.

END