Title: For the Final Good of Man
Author: Melpomene
Email: melpomene@stories.com
Genre: future-fic
Summary: "Tell me, Mr. Bruin, before I begin my tale, why is
it that after so many years you are interested in finding out about Angel? I haven't heard the barest whisper of a
mention of him in more than half a century.
What has caused your sudden interest I wonder."
Story idea is influenced by Anne Rice's Interview With a Vampire, as well as
other similar tales.
For The Final Good Of Man*
* line from the poem
"Whatever Is-Is Best" by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
"So, you are the young man who has been asking about the
'vampire with a soul'?"
He nodded mutely.
When his classified ad had only turned up only a handful of people in
two months of postings who claimed to have known the individual in question, he
had almost pulled it and saved himself the expense of having it listed every
week. Those who had responded hadn't
been overly helpful and he sensed they were much more interested in the money
he had promised than in sticking to the actual facts of the vampire's
existence. Then, two days ago, he had
received a strange phone call from a young woman who said that there was someone
who wished to speak with him concerning his proposed project. He had never expected the 'someone' to be an
elderly woman who looked to already have one foot in the grave.
The aged lady regarded him carefully. "You may leave us, Mary. Tea would be lovely, if you wouldn't
mind." She waved one frail, blue veined
hand in dismissal. The sardonic grin on
the older woman's face at her own mention of tea was almost lost to the winkles
of her advanced years. Tea instead of
coffee--wouldn't they be surprised if they could see her now?
"Yes, ma'am, I'll bring it up as soon as it's steeped." The woman's hired companion slipped silently
out of the room, pulling shut the door.
"He did have a name, you know," the older woman intoned,
shifting slightly against the multitude of pillows that served to support her
slight and withered frame. The
sharpness in her eyes belied the frailty of her figure and the young man
wondered how so seemingly genteel a lady could have any knowledge of such a
dark topic.
The building itself had awed him when he had first entered
it. Priceless antiques and soft supple
leather filled the lower rooms, giving way to an elegant stairway lined with
thick Persian carpets and beautifully rendered artwork and a bedroom filled
with even more beauty and expense; his surroundings spoke of wealth and
success, not of a life touched by the undead, even the soul-ed undead.
Realizing she had asked him a question and was waiting for
his response, he snapped his attention back to the task at hand. "His name… yes, I've been told that he was
called Angelus."
"No," the strength of her tone commanded his attention. The lady was much more than she appeared to
be, despite her appearance. "Angelus he
was not, at least not when I knew him.
Angelus was a soulless demon bent on the destruction of all he saw, of
all that were loved by the one you wish to learn about. No, the vampire with the soul was known as
Angel."
"Angel? Are you
quite sure?" Scribbling furiously in
his notebook, the young man paused to look up at the lady before him, there was
no question that she was certain of her statement. "Angel. That's an
interesting name for a vampire," he replied cautiously.
"And Angelus isn't?
He… is a very interesting vampire…"
Closing her eyes, she smiled slightly.
"Tell me, Mr. Bruin, before I begin my tale, why is it that after so
many years you are interested in finding out about Angel? I haven't heard the barest whisper of a
mention of him in more than half a century.
What has caused your sudden interest I wonder."
"The end of days is said to be approaching."
"The end of days."
She chuckled softly, a knowing smile lighting her eyes. "Ah, but isn't that honestly the case even
if it is not to occur for another millennia?
Each day that passes draws us ever closer." She patted the soft down of the comforter, crushing its airy
weight beneath her gnarled hands while she watched the man finish his writing
and glance up at the bedside table.
"And who is to know if it hasn't in fact already come and
gone? Angel was prophesied to prevent
it, to play a key part in the apocalypse, was he not? Perhaps he lived up to the scroll's legend."
A picture in a silver frame caught his notice and he leaned
closer to study the small cluster of people enclosed by the gleaming metal and
glass. Four young people stood in
old-fashioned clothing, three men and a beautiful woman. Throwbacks of a time when demons and
vampires were common things in the world, if you knew where to look for them.
"Who…" he hadn't finished his question before the lady in
the bed chuckled, her eyes bright with the fondness of memory.
"Ah, that was the team at Angel Investigations. You, young man, are looking at the only
photograph still in existence of the four of them. There never were all that many pictures anyway, but what few
there were have all been lost or destroyed now. All but this one."
"I've heard stories of Angel Investigations, I thought it
was just a myth, a fairy story if you will.
Just something made up by mothers who wanted to allay their children's
fears of the creatures of the night. A
company that set about ridding the city of its more despicable demonic
population; purely a fairy tale device."
"Is it?" She
chuckled softly at the man's obvious conviction. "No, Angel Investigations did indeed exist and the tales about it
have amazingly few inconsistencies. It
would seem that the truth was already fantastic enough that it didn't warrant
alteration. Is it so hard to believe
that three humans and a vampire worked to rid the world they lived in of
evil?" She looked toward the
window, watching the last coral streaks of sunset paint the heavy clouds.
"Humans? No, of
course not. But a vampire…"
"The man on the left." She pointed at the picture, recollections of a time long past
filling her mind. "The one who's
wearing the strange combination of tweed and leather? That was Wesley Wyndham-Pryce, a transplant from England and late
of the Council of Watchers. He fancied
himself a rogue demon hunter until he began working with Angel. He helped with research and translating
ancient scrolls and texts and he fought hand to hand against evil, sometimes
even with great proficiency. He was a
very brave man and was quite devoted to his friends. He saved them many times over.
When he passed away he was sorely missed."
"The man next to him was Charles Gunn. Gunn was just trying to make the streets a
safer place to be when he and Angel crossed paths. When he joined the team, he added his valuable fighting ability
as well as his unerring loyalty." She
smiled fondly at the picture, reaching out to retrieve it from its permanent
position on the bedside table. Brushing
her fingers across the glistening glass, she handed it to the young man.
Accepting the picture, he studied it closely, a grin
lightening his tone, "And the woman who appears to be strangling the third man,
who was she?"
"She was Angel's seer, his all-too human connection to the
PTB, a very vain woman who learned much too quickly the wisdom that generally
only comes with age. She worked to help
them all. She was their medic, their
secretary, even their confessor at times."
"The PTB?"
"The powers that be, it was a term they learned from Angel's
first seer, a half demon who was sent to him to help and guide him on the road
to his redemption." She smiled again at
the memory of the scruffy Irishman.
"Doyle entered Angel's life and made him understand things he did not
want to understand. Angel did
eventually see the truth in the man's words and they worked together for a very
short time."
"Why short? Surely
if he was to help Angel gain his redemption, he would have stayed with him."
She nodded, the smile faded from her eyes and mouth. "Doyle was lost to them 'fighting the good
fight'. Amazing actually since he
rarely became involved in the actual combat.
But rather than let Angel sacrifice himself, Doyle took his
place." She stared blankly at a
spot on the wall, her voice trailing off to silence.
After a moment, Mr. Bruin reasoned, "The man that this
Cordelia looks to be choking... it's Angel, isn't it? It's him, the vampire with a soul."
"Yes," she offered no further explanation.
"Did you know them well?"
"Oh yes, I knew them as well as I knew myself, better
even."
~~~
to be continued soon…
