Old beginnings and new endings.
So I was going to see my father. The words still sounded strange, even in my head. My father. Holtz was my father, this...this vampire was only blood. I still had trouble thinking about it without feeling that familiar stab of anger, of impotent bitterness.
Still, I reasoned, Angel had been kind to me since I'd arrived from Quor-toth, and as much as I hated to admit it, I knew that this situation couldn't have been any easier for him than it was for me. Of course, that didn't make me resent him any less. I just recognized that he was trying his best here.
The streets were quiet when I left Buffy and Wesley, the sound of my own scuffling footsteps echoing off the concrete walls of the building surrounding me. Every once in a while, a police siren could be heard faintly in the distance, slicing through the silence. The scents of cigarette smoke and fried food hung heavily in the heavy-hot LA night air. There were whores on the corners, and harshly flickering streetlights illuminating my way as I walked to where my father was.
I was thinking to myself that I had a big decision to make here, whether or not to go to Sunnydale with Wesley and Buffy, but deep down I was pretty sure I'd already made my decision. Angel made me unsettled, made me angry. As much as I wanted to believe in him, to trust him, maybe even to love him and be his son kill him, I also wanted to get the hell out of here. These people made me twitchy, the way they looked at me. Like I was the one connected to the Beast, and not the demon whore they called "Boss".
I was pretty sure, but I wasn't sure at all. I supposed it all came down to how this little talk of ours went.
So I walked up the steps of the Hyperion, pushing open the doors without knocking.
"Hey...anyone home? Da--Angel? You here?"
Still, I reasoned, Angel had been kind to me since I'd arrived from Quor-toth, and as much as I hated to admit it, I knew that this situation couldn't have been any easier for him than it was for me. Of course, that didn't make me resent him any less. I just recognized that he was trying his best here.
The streets were quiet when I left Buffy and Wesley, the sound of my own scuffling footsteps echoing off the concrete walls of the building surrounding me. Every once in a while, a police siren could be heard faintly in the distance, slicing through the silence. The scents of cigarette smoke and fried food hung heavily in the heavy-hot LA night air. There were whores on the corners, and harshly flickering streetlights illuminating my way as I walked to where my father was.
I was thinking to myself that I had a big decision to make here, whether or not to go to Sunnydale with Wesley and Buffy, but deep down I was pretty sure I'd already made my decision. Angel made me unsettled, made me angry. As much as I wanted to believe in him, to trust him, maybe even to love him and be his son kill him, I also wanted to get the hell out of here. These people made me twitchy, the way they looked at me. Like I was the one connected to the Beast, and not the demon whore they called "Boss".
I was pretty sure, but I wasn't sure at all. I supposed it all came down to how this little talk of ours went.
So I walked up the steps of the Hyperion, pushing open the doors without knocking.
"Hey...anyone home? Da--Angel? You here?"