invisiblecompany

Some time during the recent past, Lorne developed an interest in gourmet fine dining. Not only the art of shoving food into one's mouth, he taught himself techniques of a master chef and could best any of them in the kitchen. If it were not for his, erm, skin problem, he would have fancied his chances at some of the prestigious competitions.

Though most people took their regular meals from their home control centers, eating out was a phenomenally popular activity. As people became better traveled, and to increasingly exotic places, they began to enjoy the different dishes they tasted abroad. More and more, they wished they could savior the same food at home.

Lorne realized this very early on, and became co-owner of the largest complete experience restaurant chains on the Pan-American continent with Anyanka the Vengeance Demon. His natural exuberance and her shrewdness with money proving to be a winning combination. Not to mention the newest trends and ingredients she brought back on her "trips".

Occasionally he indulged in actual cooking in a state-of-the-art kitchen he had Angel install at the Hyperion. But his creations never received the adulation they got at his restaurants. Most of the time he spent in the Hyperion kitchen involved warming up a thick red viscous liquid.

"Serves me right, serving haute cuisine to a bunch of people who live on blood."

"I like your food," came the resounding rebuttal.

"You're a ghost, you can't taste or digest food," Lorne spoke seemingly to thin air, while watching 3 cups of blood slid by themselves along the table surface to a waiting tray.

"Can too. I could taste and smell the garlic in that chicken you made the other day."

"And I'm a billionaire several times over. Wait, I am. Ok, you win. Can you take the cups to the guys?"

Dennis was out of the kitchen in a puff.

*****

He found Harmony first, relaxing in her quarters with ambient music and a moisturizing body wrap treatment. He placed her cup a side table, muttered a hasty "you're welcome" at her thanks and quickly left. She had seaweed wrapped all around her and looked like a slimy green catepillar, for some reason it brought out the ick in him.

Angel he found in the library, doing research and from the dark looks, not very successfully. He knew better than to disturb the boss in that mood and again, exited quickly.

His final customer was Willow. He found her hovering outside the room of their most recent guest. As a ghost he had a vague grasp on the exact passage of time, yet he remembered Willow and the Tara from all that time ago. They were the ones who moved him from the apartment to the hotel and granted him the gift of speech.

And for that the witches would always have a special place in his heart. (He wondered, where was his heart really. Does it beat. Can it be ripped out. Hmmm.)

"Dinner is served my master," he mustered his most Jeeves-like voice.

She took the cup and just held it in front of her. "Thanks," she said automatically.

"Are you comfortable there? Should I bring you a chair?" he asked, helpfully.

A short "I'm fine," and she went back to her thoughts.

Dennis retreated away, she was not deliberately being rude, he could tell she had a lot on her mind. He hovered a few doors down along the corridor and observed her silently. He even cocked his head to his side for good measure.

"Willow," he asked, after a few minutes. She was not startled, either she could sense him (hello, master witch there) or she was not paying attention to her surroundings at all.

"Willow, why don't you go inside and sit with her?" he asked gently.

"I can't."

"Why?"

"She hates me," her voice dropped to a whisper, a sob.

"She doesn't hate you."

"So why is she so freaked out that she can't stop screaming when she sees me?"

"I don't think it's you. I mean, she didn't recognize you or Angel."

"Or you," she said with a small rueful smile. If she could see him he would be sharing the smile with her. "But I can feel her, Dennis. We've always been able to feel each other and it's been so empty for so long I thought I'd forgotten but as soon as I saw her I could feel her again."

He tried to digest and analyze that but was not doing very well.

"How is it possible? Did she get resurrected? Or reincarnated? Is that why Angel's doing all that research?" he wondered aloud.

"I think he's more concerned with how she got to be in that playground and her memory loss," she said dryly.

"So no one is looking into whether she's the real Tara or just a Tara?" he ventured.

"What do you mean?" she tried to follow his line of thinking, the kid might be making some sense after all.

"The difference between the authentic version and a copy, to put it a bit crudely," he explained. "Is she your Tara whose memories might just need a push to come alive again or will you need to build a whole new relationship with her? That's what I mean. I'm assuming you want a relationship with her no matter who she is and not to feed on her or anything."

She was so glad he had his voice back. If she could touch him, and if she leant that way (god knows, she's gone there during some desolate moments), she would have grabbed him and kissed him as hard as she could, and may be given him some tongue as well.

She could have teleported but she was so excited she just ran down to the library, virtually jumping down through the stairwell. Angel would have to move aside to give her room.