A/N This is my first posted Angel fic. I wrote it quite a while ago so it isn't brilliant but enjoy. Please review.
Disclaimer: If I were Joss Whedon I'd be a successful screenwriter. Maybe someday...
He wasn't like the other customers. They all fit into one of three categories: there were the regulars who I knew by name since they came in every night; then there were the occasionals who would come to drown their sorrows every now and again and finally the randoms (people who were on holiday or just visiting the area). I'd see them once and few ever came back.
This man was different. I knew he lived in the area because one of the regulars recognised him from a local law firm so he wasn't a random. His visits weren't frequent enough to be occasional and I'm fairly sure he didn't come exclusively to this bar.
Nonetheless, I saw him five times sitting at the bar, sometimes alone, sometimes in a group but always silent, brooding. Of all the customers I've met over the years, I will always remember him for that.
First meeting, February 2004
The group of three made their way mournfully into the bar.
"You're sure Gunn doesn't want to come?" A pretty, slim girl was asking the two men.
"He has to deal with this in his own way, Fred," the shorter of the two men replied, looking at her as if she were some sort of queen.
It was obvious that this man and 'Fred' were very close from the stolen glances and the way his hand never left her arm.
"But we're here for Cordelia, Wesley," Fred said.
The so far silent man slipped onto a seat, unusually quietly for a man of his size.
"Exactly," he finally said quietly. He had a strong but calm voice that I could tell was very reassuring. He lifted his glass.
"To Cordelia Chase, a great friend," he said, sadly.
"Rest in peace," Wesley chimed in.
At the time I couldn't help being intrigued by the trio from Wolfram and Hart and it wasn't long before they returned, some of them anyway.
Second Meeting, March 2004
When the group returned, the woman wasn't with them.
"What would you like?" I asked Wesley politely.
"Fred. Can you get Fred back?" He demanded, already drunk.
Before I could respond, the brooding man was by his side, hauling him up.
"Come on, Wes," he said, angrily. "Getting drunk is not going to bring Fred back."
The drunken man burst into tears. "It makes me forget," he slurred.
"Fred wouldn't want you to forget! She would want you to fight!" Broody hissed sadly. I don't know how it was possible for him to be angry, sad and sympathetic all at once but this strange man managed it.
"I've done this, Wes. I lost Buffy and just a few weeks ago we were in here after losing Cordy," he continued. "We owe Fred that respect."
Wesley yelled some slurred retort and the man got really angry. He slammed some money down on the counter, making me jump, bodily picked his friend up and stormed out.
I was shocked by the impossibility of the feat, let alone the apparent loss of two of the friends in less than a month. What kind of law firm did they run? However, I was immediately resolved to feel very sorry for the mystery man.
Third meeting, May 2004
Heads turned as my stranger strode into the bar. Most of L.A. was in ruins, declared an evacuated war zone and we were lucky we were still here. He was covered in all kinds of grime and what appeared to be blood but as soon as everyone's attention had left him he just sat in silence with his drink.
Had anyone else listened closely they would have heard him mutter to himself:
"To Doyle. To Cordy. To Fred, Wesley, Gunn, Spike," as he reeled off a list of names. Knowing what I had observed I realised that Wolfram and Hart and the headquarters of his former firm, Angel Investigations, were right in the middle of the disaster site and that this man had been right in the middle of it all.
I realised with a jolt that he was listing his fallen comrades. Cordy had been the girl he was toasting on his first visit, Fred the pretty girl who had mentioned Gunn and Wesley the grieving drunk. They were all dead.
Fourth Visit, January 2005
A pretty young brunette paraded her boyfriend into the bar, happily. He looked vaguely familiar. I had been working at the bar for a long time by then and it was over nine months since the last of the mystery man's visits. Another brunette slinked in behind them, very close to her boyfriend whilst Broody shuffled along next to them. Strangely it seemed the five of them were together.
It was only then that I realised how much older than them he looked. His eyes appeared to have seen a thousand horrors, seen him commit a thousand horrors.
The first young woman smiled and called the 'meeting' to order.
"To the first office party!" she exclaimed. "And to drinks!"
"Amen to that!" The more suggestive of the two women exclaimed.
"No drinking, Dawn," Broody said, in a very fatherly manner. "Or you, Connor, you aren't old enough. Don't encourage them, Faith," he added.
Connor glared at what I realised was his father's back. The brooding man did not look nearly old enough to have a son, though.
"You invited me to the party, Dawn," he said to the girl. "That means we go by your sister's rules."
"Whatever. You two have so got to get back together," she muttered.
"You already do exactly what she tells you to," Faith chuckled.
Suddenly, Connor's phone rang.
"We've got a gig," he said.
"End of the world, apocalypse type or something a patrol would have picked up?" Faith's boyfriend asked.
"Patrol. Dad and Faith can go," Connor yawned lazily. "The oldies."
Broody and Faith promptly left and the party fizzled out quickly.
That was the last time I saw him for years yet the first time I saw him remotely happy.
Fifth Meeting, Christmas Eve, 2010
The final time I saw him he slotted into his seat like it had been yesterday, not five years previously. He hadn't aged a day and yet once more his eyes told of tragedy and hardship. He was waiting for someone, I could tell.
By that time the Slayer Organisation had gone public and I knew who he was. His name was Angel, former head of Angel Investigations, a professional demon hunter and vampire.
Two hours passed before a lithe young woman, looking tired and old for her apparent age, walked up behind him.
"Angel," she said.
"Buffy," he replied.
They stood there in silence and I could tell that I was witnessing the curtain close of an epic romance.
"How are Dawn and Connor, I haven't heard from them in a while," he inquired politely and awkwardly.
"They're well and so is the baby," Buffy replied, smiling at the mention of the brunette from the party, who I realised was her sister.
"And Willow and Xander?" Angel continued but Buffy silenced him with a look.
"I'm cookies, Angel," she said. "I asked you here now because I thought it would be symbolic, you know? Christmas Eve, the eleventh anniversary of the night I realised we were truly forever. I know it's been a long time and you've probably moved on but I love you and I've lost so many Slayers recently I just had to come and…"
"I'm human," he interrupted calmly.
The tiny blonde stared at him as though there was no one else in the world.
"Really? Since when?" she asked, stunned.
"About a month ago," he replied. "I was waiting for you to be…"
His voice was muted by a passionate kiss.
"How long do you want me to stay?" she asked him teasingly.
He laughed, something I had never heard. It was beautiful and simple and so heart-warming.
"How's forever? Will forever do for you?" he asked her seriously.
I never saw them again but somehow I know that they stayed together because I had come to realise that that was the type of person Angel was. He cared for his friends, who were essentially his family and he loved deeply. He helped the helpless. In my mind, he is still the closest thing this earth has to a real angel.
A/N Don't forget to review!
