Even all the powers of Wolfram & Hart couldn't help Lindsey McDonald fight the stomach flu. If he didn't have to vomit, he had diarrhea. And this had gone on for several days instead of the usual 24 hours. He was really suffering.

"Where do you think you're going, Lindsey?" Holland asked in his silky-smooth voice with its usual undertone of menace as Lindsey rose from the table at another planning meeting for The Raising.

"To the men's room, Holland, unless you'd prefer that I puke on the conference table." Lindsey gave Holland his patented "damn you" frown.

"Hurry up, then." As Lindsey exited the office, Holland turned on the monitor trained on the executive washroom. Lindsey did indeed rush into a stall and proceed to lose his breakfast, as Lilah snickered. He then washed his hands well, splashed water on his face, and came back, snagging a bottle of water from the refreshment table on his way back to his seat.

Later that morning a shaman had come to his office bearing a small bottle. "What's this? Some enchanted potion made of herbs gathered from a graveyard in the moonlight?"

"No, it's Pepto-Bismol. We can't do any better than this!"

But it didn't work. When the night of The Raising came, Lindsey's stomach was still quite unsettled. Lilah's little reminder of Robert Price eating his own liver didn't help, either. I should have thrown up on those new shoes of hers, he thought.

About halfway to their destination, Lindsey yelled, "Stop now!" He held his hand over his mouth. Jumping out of the car, he threw up in some busher. Then he grabbed a bottle of water from the bar in the limo and had a long drink to try to get the taste out of his mouth.

The Raising was underway when they arrived. He stood slightly behind Holland, at his usual place. Then the feeling came over him very strongly. He had to find a bathroom, and he had to find it now. Were there even bathrooms in these places? Slowly he backed away toward the entrance. He couldn't wait—this was a $1200 suit he was wearing and he didn't want to take a chance on ruining it, not to mention the odor. It smelled bad enough in this place as it was with all the vampires chained to the crate.

In the hallway he found three doors. He had to try to interpret the symbols, but he finally deciphered which was Men, which Women, and which Demons!

The men's room was much cleaner than he would have expected to find in a crypt like this. There were even disposable paper toilet seat covers. And the paper towel dispenser and toilet paper holders were full!

A few minutes later he emerged from the stall. Going to the sink, he washed his hands well and splashed water on his face. Then he took his comb from his breast pocket and ran it through his hair. He straightened his tie and left the men's room.

When he arrived back in the main chamber, all hell had evidently broken loose. Five piles of dust lay around the crate; Vocah was dead; Holland lay on the floor, blood gushing from the stump of his right arm as his hand lay on the floor. And Angel, scroll in hand, was leaving. "Lindsey! Sorry I missed you!" he said as he exited through the window.

"I take it I missed something?" Lindsey asked Lilah over Holland's moans.

"You missed everything. When Angel killed Vocah, Holland tried to get me to finish the Raising, but I don't read Latin, so he had to do it himself. Angel cut off his hand before he could finish."

"So nothing was raised?"

"Zip, zilch, nada!" She looked at Holland screaming on the floor. "You'd think he'd be a little more stoic about this, wouldn't you?"

"I'm sure the Senior Partners will appreciate his sacrifice," Lindsey said, smirking. "We'd better get out of here in case the police arrive." He & Lilah turned and left. Looking back over his shoulder, Lindsey thought, this one is for you, Lee, buddy. Lee had been in love with him, Lindsey knew. Although he didn't reciprocate his feelings, as he was exclusively heterosexual, he had appreciated Lee's friendship. Therefore he would take his time sending help for Holland. However, if he waited too long, Holland's position would be open. He & Lilah could work together if they had to. He might even consider taking her up on the invitations she was so blatantly sending him.

Left alone in the crypt, Holland bled his life away. And it was just so hard to get those stains out of the marble!

Later that night, Lindsey's phone rang. "Lindsey McDonald."

"It worked like a charm, Lindsey. I have the scroll and you're off the hook. You should also move up to Holland's place in the firm. You can do a lot of good from the inside."

"I'm glad it worked. Is Cordelia okay? And Wes?"

"They'll be fine."

"Good, because I've really suffered the last few days."

"You'd better get rid of the evidence. We'll talk later." Angel hung up the phone.

Lindsey went into his bathroom and put the bottle of Syrup of Ipecac and the box of Ex-Lax into the wastebasket. Then he carried it to the trash chute and dumped it out. Smiling broadly, he returned to his condo and went to bed.