Revelations
You know, my life is just... never simple. Never.
Two nights ago, while I was out patrolling, I came across one of the more horrific things I've witnessed in this city. There were no demons, this time, there were no... uh, vampires, or... monsters.
Well... there were monsters, I suppose. Just... the human variety.
There were seven of them, in a tight little circle in an alley off of 12th street. Laundry lines stretched between the high-rise apartment slums above them, and cats howled at each other out in the distance. Cars were going by at infrequent intervals on the street, and loud music was playing from one of the nearby tenements, but over all the buzz of the... of the din, there was the unmistakable sounds of fists hitting flesh, and the muffled, sobbing cries of two young women.
I reached the rooftop of Thirty-three-hundred twelth avenue by running and jumping. I didn't stop when I reached the rooftop, either. I planted my hands on the balcony's edge and vaulted over the side into the streets below, landing on the back of one of the ... one of the ... I can't think of a word that isn't ... venomous.
I think I may have broken his back. I really hope I did...
I rolled off of his back and dashed to my feet, glaring at the rest of the street gang. "Holy shit, man!" one of the toughs yelled, startled. Another one of the ...bastards stumbled up, off of his knees and pulled his pants up, buckling them desperately. The tallest and meanest looking thug in the group seemed to recognize me. He hefted a large wooden board with chains wrapped around the end. "It's that Angel creep! Mess him up!"
I smiled, a dark, feral smile. I rarely enjoyed hurting humans as much as I was going to now. Please, I thought to myself, to the toughs. Make my day.
They charged. I ducked under the leader's makeshift mace and thundered a punch to his stomach, knocking him across the alley. He landed heavily. Another pair of thugs rushed me and I spun into a high kick that knocked them both aside. The remaining three toughs pulled up fast and started backing away, but I wasn't going tpo let these bastards get away. I leapt forward, tackling one of them to the ground and kicking out with my left foot, snapping the sixth's head around. He crashed into a dumpster with a heavy thud and I think he may have cracked his jaw. Pity. I smashed the face of the one I was on into the ground until he passed out, and then glanced up just in time to see the last tough cock a gun at me and fire.
The bullets knocked me back, and each felt like a hot poker to the chest, going in, but of course, they didn't - couldn't - kill me. I crouched on the ground, growling with the sharp pain, and glanced up at the thug in full vamp face, teeth and everything, snarling.
He didn't get a chance to run. I slammed him up against the wall, holding him by the collar and the waist. "I hate when people shoot me," I growled, shifting back to human face. "So you like to beat up a couple of girls. They're weaker than you." I slammed him into the wall again. "They can't fight seven of you." I slammed him into the wall again. "They don't clubs and guns." Again. "But you know what they do have?" I whirled him around, and he gasped up at me, shaking and terrified, his face filled with blood. "Wh...wh..what?" he asked me, nearly begging.
"They have me." I slammed my head into his face and he crumpled to the ground with a satisfying slump. The rest of the gang was groaning or unconcious. None of them were moving. I turned to the two young women in the center of the alley, and I nearly ... well, vampires can't throw up, but... I gagged.
I've seen worse things in my very long life. I've... been the cause of most of them, actually, but there is something about a senseless hate crime that just... guts you, inside. This was one of those times. A pair of young women lay in the center of the alley,in a pool of their own blood. They might have been attractive, once, but now they were just... broken dolls. Clothing torn and shreaded, bruises - black, blue, and sickly yellow - covering every exposed peice of flesh - and there was a lot of exposed fresh.
Both of the bodies were covered in marking - black permanent marker, covering the face, the arms, the legs, the thighs, the stomach... - words like 'dyke' and 'bitch' and 'lesbo slut' and even more colorful phrases covered them from head to toe. They'd both been raped. One pair of jeans lay shreaded around the knees, and another skirt was pushed way beyond the hips. I threw my coat over their bodies.
As I checked their wounds and looked for signs of life, one of the girls stirred, sobbing and crawling towards the other. I was... transfixed. The other girl was unmoving, her arms and legs twisted at awkward angles, and she was going blue in the face. She'd been dead for sometime. The second girl, the one who was moving, was relatively ... well, she'd only been raped. Only. Bruises covered her body, but she was alive. That meant... that meant that they'd ... they'd raped and killed the first girl - her lover, and made her watch.
Rage flooded me, and I dug my nails into the pavement to keep from snapping the necks of the monsters closest to me. I failed. I was ... too late. Again.
The second girl crawled to the first, unmoving girl and cradled her in her arms, sobbing heavily and kissing her head, over and over again, and rocking her back and forth.
I sank to my knees beside the live girl and blinked back tears, touching her softly on the shoulder. She jerked away, snapping her head around towards me. Her face was slick with blood, and ran with tears. "It's okay, it's okay," I said, holding my hands up and leaning away. "My name is Angel. I'm here to help you."
"Th--they ...killed her..." Her voice was thick with tears and cracked with emotion. I closed my eyes and nodded.
"I know. I'm sorry... I was too late."
"Sarah... god, Sarah..." She went back to kissing the dead girl's forehead, over and over, sobbing inconsolably. I stared at the two of them, helplessly, and my eyes ran with tears.
I'm sorry. God...I'm so sorry.
=========================
I carried them both to the hospital. In my arms. Rosa, as the second girl turned out to be named, would not leave Sarah behind, and I wasn't about to try and make her, so I hoisted them both up in my arms and carried them through the streets to a bus, which I convinced to take us to the hospital.
When we reached the hospital, I took the two girls to the hospital and explained the situation to the ER Doctors on duty. They took the girls from me and wheeled them both into the ER, where they sedated Rosa and quietly slipped Sarah to the the Morgue.
After calling the police and arranging for them to arrest the street gang, (before I changed my mind and went back for more,) I called Tara at CI and told her I wouldn't be in that night, and might be late the next day. Then I sat on a chair by the bed when Rosa was rolled into her own room, and sat with my head down, waiting for her to wake up.
It was in the hospital that I found out that Wesley was here, too. Wesley was alive! The next morning, pne of the doctors who had been to see Rosa while she was still unconcious was carrying a number of folders on her clipboard, and one of them said Wyndham-Pryce, W. It caught my eye.
"Excuse me, does that say ... 'Wyndham-Price?'"
"Why yes, it does," she said, surprised at my interest. She looked down at the folder. "Wesley Wyndham-Price."
I was floored. It took me a moment to speak, and I just worked my jaws. She looked at me in curiosity. "... is he a friend of yours?"
I smiled softly, and my eyes misted over. "...in a word."
"Well, I can tell you the room number..."
"I'd be grateful."
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
I stayed by Rosa's side through the morning, despite my curiosity to see Wesley. I could barely contain my ...well, my shock, and ... disbelief. Wesley was alive? I couldn't believe it. Illyria had told us, she'd said... I never was able to go back and look for his body before demons rained down on Los Angeles, but then, Illyria had no reason to lie either. But if he was alive, then ... why hadn't he called me? Why hadn't he... contacted me?
To be honest, I felt ... hurt.
When Rosa woke up, we talked. It's not ... relevant, and a little private. We held hands and we talked about Sarah, and we cried together, and when she asked me to take her, I picked her up in my arms and carried her into the Morgue to see Sarah. Then we cried again, before I took her back to her room and laid her back down in the bed. I gave her my business card, and told her that I would be in a couple days later to check on her, and that she could call me whenever she wanted. She asked me, in a small voice, if I would come to Sarah's funeral, and I bent down, kissed her on the forehead, and assured her that I would be there, rain... or sun.
After Rosa fell asleep, I tucked her in and turned off the lights, slipping out the door. I called Tara again and filled her in on Rosa's condition, then slipped down the hall to the cafeteria and picked up a cup of coffee. It was fairly well into the afternoon before I arrived at Wesley's door, about 20 minutes after 5 p.m. and ... he was gone.
"Excuse me, Dr. Roche," I asked one of the doctors who was passing by. "Do you know where the man in this room went?"
"Oh, ummm, no. But, let me go check." She flashed me a big smile and went down the hall to the receptionist, and I stayed in the room. Closing my eyes, I took a deep slow scenting of the air and easily identified the old, musky sent of Wesley's cologne - he fairly reeked of old books and even older ale.
The second scent I detected came to me like a slap across the face.
Connor.
Connor was here?
My world began to spin. I sat down on the bed, slowly, and tried to take stock of what I was learning. Not only was Wesley alive, and in New Metropolis, but Connor was with him. What was going on?
"Mr. Angel?" The doctor was back, standing at the door with a smile on her face. "Your friend, Mr. Wyndham-Pryce, he left here about twenty minutes ago with his Lawyer, a Mr. Riley."
I was stunned. Connor was a lawyer?
...Was it even really Connor?
I stuck my hands into the pockets of my trenchcoat and brooded for a minute, looking at the bed. The Doctor's smile faltered a little. When I glanced back at her, it returned. "Do you... do you have a security camera that watched the hallway?"
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
I sat in the security room of the Hospital and sipped on my coffee, running a hand through my short spikey hair.
The security guard on duty, Thomas Brown, eyed me out of the corner of his eye while he fast-forwarded the video tapes. I think I unsettled him a little. I can't blame him, I was pretty intensely focused on what I was watching. Cordellia called it my 'brood mode.'
"There," I said, holding my hand up. The tape slowed, and the figure of a slender young man with foppish hair down to his ears strode down the corridor with the familiar swagger of a young man I knew very, very well.
"Stop the tape," I whispered, sitting back in my seat. I stared at the frozen image of Connor for a long minute before I whirled out of my chair and was out the door.
I heard the guard behind me calling out, "...You're welcome!"
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
The sun was still up, which meant that I was fairly limited as to mode of transportation, but now that I had Wesley, and more importantly, Connor, in my sights I wasn't about to give up the trail.
For the first time since I'd taken it from the crazy maniac who nearly trashed a block of New Metropolis two weeks ago, I pulled out the small green pendant that hung around my neck. To be honest, I had no idea if this small item could shield me from the sun long enough for me to do what I needed to do, but I was determined to find out.
I stood in the shadows of the hospital's side awning and closed my eyes, focusing my will on the tiny green pendant on my chest. For a moment, I felt the small emerald angel pulse with power, and then power rushed into me, suffusing my being with a rush of pure, clean energy - energy that was far, far older than I was.
I stepped out of the shadows, and lifted a hand over my eyes to shield me from the sun. Instantaneously, I felt the sun upon me, trying to get at me, trying to fulfill its curse on vampires and reduce me to ash. The pain was intense, almost enough to drive me back inside the shadows once again -- but I didn't burn. The green energy that powered me gave me ... immunity. Well, partial. The pain was intense. I was on my knees before I knew it, and somehow, I had the inate impression that the power I was relying on wouldn't hold up forever. I had to hurry.
I followed Connor's scent for several blocks, but the kid had a habit of changing directions and diffusing his scent - a trick he'd learned in Quor'toth, no doubt. I was left without a trail to follow, fairly quickly. I could track him with my other senses, but it would take longer. Instead, I decided to back track, and follow Wesley.
Wesley was much easier to follow. His scent was impressed upon my memory like an irremoval ink blot, and I tracked him through the sunny day, ignoring the blinding and nearly incapacitating pain, and followed him to the very foot of a business that I knew only too well.
Wolfram and Hart.
Why was wesley here? The questions kept mounting. The scent doubled back from the front door, though, so I followed it to a small park, and then slipped into the shadows of the trees. In the dark shadows of late-afternoon, I was nearly invisible. Benefits of wearing all black. It was a relief to get out of the blinding pain of the sun, and even though the experiment had been successful, it wasn't an experience was particular apt to repeat any time soon.
I settled down in the shadows and watched Wesley for several minutes, trying to puzzle out the information I had now. Wesley was alive. He had never called me, never spoken to me. He was spending time with Connor - with my son - and he was visiting Wolfram and Hart. What did it mean.
And then, Connor appeared. In the living flesh, walking through the day with the same confident swagger. My heart swelled.
For a moment, I considered stepping out of the shadows to greet them both, but ... something held me back. Fear of destroying my delusion, perhaps, or just plain ... fear. What was Wesley doing consorting with Wolfram and Hart?
I was pleased with myself for choosing a hiding spot that was down-wind of Connor. If he couldn't smell me, couldn't see me, he wouldn't notice me. I lowered myself down into the bushes, and watched.
Two nights ago, while I was out patrolling, I came across one of the more horrific things I've witnessed in this city. There were no demons, this time, there were no... uh, vampires, or... monsters.
Well... there were monsters, I suppose. Just... the human variety.
There were seven of them, in a tight little circle in an alley off of 12th street. Laundry lines stretched between the high-rise apartment slums above them, and cats howled at each other out in the distance. Cars were going by at infrequent intervals on the street, and loud music was playing from one of the nearby tenements, but over all the buzz of the... of the din, there was the unmistakable sounds of fists hitting flesh, and the muffled, sobbing cries of two young women.
I reached the rooftop of Thirty-three-hundred twelth avenue by running and jumping. I didn't stop when I reached the rooftop, either. I planted my hands on the balcony's edge and vaulted over the side into the streets below, landing on the back of one of the ... one of the ... I can't think of a word that isn't ... venomous.
I think I may have broken his back. I really hope I did...
I rolled off of his back and dashed to my feet, glaring at the rest of the street gang. "Holy shit, man!" one of the toughs yelled, startled. Another one of the ...bastards stumbled up, off of his knees and pulled his pants up, buckling them desperately. The tallest and meanest looking thug in the group seemed to recognize me. He hefted a large wooden board with chains wrapped around the end. "It's that Angel creep! Mess him up!"
I smiled, a dark, feral smile. I rarely enjoyed hurting humans as much as I was going to now. Please, I thought to myself, to the toughs. Make my day.
They charged. I ducked under the leader's makeshift mace and thundered a punch to his stomach, knocking him across the alley. He landed heavily. Another pair of thugs rushed me and I spun into a high kick that knocked them both aside. The remaining three toughs pulled up fast and started backing away, but I wasn't going tpo let these bastards get away. I leapt forward, tackling one of them to the ground and kicking out with my left foot, snapping the sixth's head around. He crashed into a dumpster with a heavy thud and I think he may have cracked his jaw. Pity. I smashed the face of the one I was on into the ground until he passed out, and then glanced up just in time to see the last tough cock a gun at me and fire.
The bullets knocked me back, and each felt like a hot poker to the chest, going in, but of course, they didn't - couldn't - kill me. I crouched on the ground, growling with the sharp pain, and glanced up at the thug in full vamp face, teeth and everything, snarling.
He didn't get a chance to run. I slammed him up against the wall, holding him by the collar and the waist. "I hate when people shoot me," I growled, shifting back to human face. "So you like to beat up a couple of girls. They're weaker than you." I slammed him into the wall again. "They can't fight seven of you." I slammed him into the wall again. "They don't clubs and guns." Again. "But you know what they do have?" I whirled him around, and he gasped up at me, shaking and terrified, his face filled with blood. "Wh...wh..what?" he asked me, nearly begging.
"They have me." I slammed my head into his face and he crumpled to the ground with a satisfying slump. The rest of the gang was groaning or unconcious. None of them were moving. I turned to the two young women in the center of the alley, and I nearly ... well, vampires can't throw up, but... I gagged.
I've seen worse things in my very long life. I've... been the cause of most of them, actually, but there is something about a senseless hate crime that just... guts you, inside. This was one of those times. A pair of young women lay in the center of the alley,in a pool of their own blood. They might have been attractive, once, but now they were just... broken dolls. Clothing torn and shreaded, bruises - black, blue, and sickly yellow - covering every exposed peice of flesh - and there was a lot of exposed fresh.
Both of the bodies were covered in marking - black permanent marker, covering the face, the arms, the legs, the thighs, the stomach... - words like 'dyke' and 'bitch' and 'lesbo slut' and even more colorful phrases covered them from head to toe. They'd both been raped. One pair of jeans lay shreaded around the knees, and another skirt was pushed way beyond the hips. I threw my coat over their bodies.
As I checked their wounds and looked for signs of life, one of the girls stirred, sobbing and crawling towards the other. I was... transfixed. The other girl was unmoving, her arms and legs twisted at awkward angles, and she was going blue in the face. She'd been dead for sometime. The second girl, the one who was moving, was relatively ... well, she'd only been raped. Only. Bruises covered her body, but she was alive. That meant... that meant that they'd ... they'd raped and killed the first girl - her lover, and made her watch.
Rage flooded me, and I dug my nails into the pavement to keep from snapping the necks of the monsters closest to me. I failed. I was ... too late. Again.
The second girl crawled to the first, unmoving girl and cradled her in her arms, sobbing heavily and kissing her head, over and over again, and rocking her back and forth.
I sank to my knees beside the live girl and blinked back tears, touching her softly on the shoulder. She jerked away, snapping her head around towards me. Her face was slick with blood, and ran with tears. "It's okay, it's okay," I said, holding my hands up and leaning away. "My name is Angel. I'm here to help you."
"Th--they ...killed her..." Her voice was thick with tears and cracked with emotion. I closed my eyes and nodded.
"I know. I'm sorry... I was too late."
"Sarah... god, Sarah..." She went back to kissing the dead girl's forehead, over and over, sobbing inconsolably. I stared at the two of them, helplessly, and my eyes ran with tears.
I'm sorry. God...I'm so sorry.
=========================
I carried them both to the hospital. In my arms. Rosa, as the second girl turned out to be named, would not leave Sarah behind, and I wasn't about to try and make her, so I hoisted them both up in my arms and carried them through the streets to a bus, which I convinced to take us to the hospital.
When we reached the hospital, I took the two girls to the hospital and explained the situation to the ER Doctors on duty. They took the girls from me and wheeled them both into the ER, where they sedated Rosa and quietly slipped Sarah to the the Morgue.
After calling the police and arranging for them to arrest the street gang, (before I changed my mind and went back for more,) I called Tara at CI and told her I wouldn't be in that night, and might be late the next day. Then I sat on a chair by the bed when Rosa was rolled into her own room, and sat with my head down, waiting for her to wake up.
It was in the hospital that I found out that Wesley was here, too. Wesley was alive! The next morning, pne of the doctors who had been to see Rosa while she was still unconcious was carrying a number of folders on her clipboard, and one of them said Wyndham-Pryce, W. It caught my eye.
"Excuse me, does that say ... 'Wyndham-Price?'"
"Why yes, it does," she said, surprised at my interest. She looked down at the folder. "Wesley Wyndham-Price."
I was floored. It took me a moment to speak, and I just worked my jaws. She looked at me in curiosity. "... is he a friend of yours?"
I smiled softly, and my eyes misted over. "...in a word."
"Well, I can tell you the room number..."
"I'd be grateful."
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
I stayed by Rosa's side through the morning, despite my curiosity to see Wesley. I could barely contain my ...well, my shock, and ... disbelief. Wesley was alive? I couldn't believe it. Illyria had told us, she'd said... I never was able to go back and look for his body before demons rained down on Los Angeles, but then, Illyria had no reason to lie either. But if he was alive, then ... why hadn't he called me? Why hadn't he... contacted me?
To be honest, I felt ... hurt.
When Rosa woke up, we talked. It's not ... relevant, and a little private. We held hands and we talked about Sarah, and we cried together, and when she asked me to take her, I picked her up in my arms and carried her into the Morgue to see Sarah. Then we cried again, before I took her back to her room and laid her back down in the bed. I gave her my business card, and told her that I would be in a couple days later to check on her, and that she could call me whenever she wanted. She asked me, in a small voice, if I would come to Sarah's funeral, and I bent down, kissed her on the forehead, and assured her that I would be there, rain... or sun.
After Rosa fell asleep, I tucked her in and turned off the lights, slipping out the door. I called Tara again and filled her in on Rosa's condition, then slipped down the hall to the cafeteria and picked up a cup of coffee. It was fairly well into the afternoon before I arrived at Wesley's door, about 20 minutes after 5 p.m. and ... he was gone.
"Excuse me, Dr. Roche," I asked one of the doctors who was passing by. "Do you know where the man in this room went?"
"Oh, ummm, no. But, let me go check." She flashed me a big smile and went down the hall to the receptionist, and I stayed in the room. Closing my eyes, I took a deep slow scenting of the air and easily identified the old, musky sent of Wesley's cologne - he fairly reeked of old books and even older ale.
The second scent I detected came to me like a slap across the face.
Connor.
Connor was here?
My world began to spin. I sat down on the bed, slowly, and tried to take stock of what I was learning. Not only was Wesley alive, and in New Metropolis, but Connor was with him. What was going on?
"Mr. Angel?" The doctor was back, standing at the door with a smile on her face. "Your friend, Mr. Wyndham-Pryce, he left here about twenty minutes ago with his Lawyer, a Mr. Riley."
I was stunned. Connor was a lawyer?
...Was it even really Connor?
I stuck my hands into the pockets of my trenchcoat and brooded for a minute, looking at the bed. The Doctor's smile faltered a little. When I glanced back at her, it returned. "Do you... do you have a security camera that watched the hallway?"
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
I sat in the security room of the Hospital and sipped on my coffee, running a hand through my short spikey hair.
The security guard on duty, Thomas Brown, eyed me out of the corner of his eye while he fast-forwarded the video tapes. I think I unsettled him a little. I can't blame him, I was pretty intensely focused on what I was watching. Cordellia called it my 'brood mode.'
"There," I said, holding my hand up. The tape slowed, and the figure of a slender young man with foppish hair down to his ears strode down the corridor with the familiar swagger of a young man I knew very, very well.
"Stop the tape," I whispered, sitting back in my seat. I stared at the frozen image of Connor for a long minute before I whirled out of my chair and was out the door.
I heard the guard behind me calling out, "...You're welcome!"
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
The sun was still up, which meant that I was fairly limited as to mode of transportation, but now that I had Wesley, and more importantly, Connor, in my sights I wasn't about to give up the trail.
For the first time since I'd taken it from the crazy maniac who nearly trashed a block of New Metropolis two weeks ago, I pulled out the small green pendant that hung around my neck. To be honest, I had no idea if this small item could shield me from the sun long enough for me to do what I needed to do, but I was determined to find out.
I stood in the shadows of the hospital's side awning and closed my eyes, focusing my will on the tiny green pendant on my chest. For a moment, I felt the small emerald angel pulse with power, and then power rushed into me, suffusing my being with a rush of pure, clean energy - energy that was far, far older than I was.
I stepped out of the shadows, and lifted a hand over my eyes to shield me from the sun. Instantaneously, I felt the sun upon me, trying to get at me, trying to fulfill its curse on vampires and reduce me to ash. The pain was intense, almost enough to drive me back inside the shadows once again -- but I didn't burn. The green energy that powered me gave me ... immunity. Well, partial. The pain was intense. I was on my knees before I knew it, and somehow, I had the inate impression that the power I was relying on wouldn't hold up forever. I had to hurry.
I followed Connor's scent for several blocks, but the kid had a habit of changing directions and diffusing his scent - a trick he'd learned in Quor'toth, no doubt. I was left without a trail to follow, fairly quickly. I could track him with my other senses, but it would take longer. Instead, I decided to back track, and follow Wesley.
Wesley was much easier to follow. His scent was impressed upon my memory like an irremoval ink blot, and I tracked him through the sunny day, ignoring the blinding and nearly incapacitating pain, and followed him to the very foot of a business that I knew only too well.
Wolfram and Hart.
Why was wesley here? The questions kept mounting. The scent doubled back from the front door, though, so I followed it to a small park, and then slipped into the shadows of the trees. In the dark shadows of late-afternoon, I was nearly invisible. Benefits of wearing all black. It was a relief to get out of the blinding pain of the sun, and even though the experiment had been successful, it wasn't an experience was particular apt to repeat any time soon.
I settled down in the shadows and watched Wesley for several minutes, trying to puzzle out the information I had now. Wesley was alive. He had never called me, never spoken to me. He was spending time with Connor - with my son - and he was visiting Wolfram and Hart. What did it mean.
And then, Connor appeared. In the living flesh, walking through the day with the same confident swagger. My heart swelled.
For a moment, I considered stepping out of the shadows to greet them both, but ... something held me back. Fear of destroying my delusion, perhaps, or just plain ... fear. What was Wesley doing consorting with Wolfram and Hart?
I was pleased with myself for choosing a hiding spot that was down-wind of Connor. If he couldn't smell me, couldn't see me, he wouldn't notice me. I lowered myself down into the bushes, and watched.