1 Rowan
Disclaimer- The only character I own here is Rowan herself; the rest I borrow.
Summary- This takes place before Cordelia becomes part demon and before Connor is born.
The hotel lobby was empty when Rowan pushed open the heavy glass doors. The lobby was sparsely furnished, chairs and tables of good quality but having seen better days, just like the rest of the Hyperion. This is where they run a business? she asked herself, walking over to the desk and *pinging* the bell.
A dark haired, thin man, twitchy and, she discovered once he spoke, English. "May I help you?"
Rowan held her breath for a moment. She had never really thought how to ask for a vampire with no last name; she only knew him as Angel or Angelus, and it seemed terrible personal to ask for him like that when he didn't even know her. But asking to speak to the vampire with a soul would probably raise even more eyebrows. "I would like to see…" Mr. Angel? she quickly discarded, "..Angel."
Brit pushed his glasses up nervously. "And may I have your name?" he clipped in his soft accent.
Rowan blinked at him like an owl. Her name? Would giving her last name disturb him? Did he even remember his human name anymore? "Rowan McKinney Gallagher."
Brit-boy flipped awkwardly through a date book behind the desk. "Did you call ahead for an appointment? I don't seem to have your name or number back here anywhere…"
Rowan bit her lip. She hadn't thought that she'd need an appointment to see a crusader for the Powers that Be; his usual clients were hardly the kind to call ahead. But then again, she probably didn't look quite like his normal clients. She still had her business suit on from the conference today, the laser pointer from her paper presentation in the right hand pocket. Her hair was neatly piled in a bun-like arrangement on the top of her head, and her heels were just a little too tall for comfort after eight hours on her feet. She certainly wasn't running away from a big bad, fearful for her life, or covered in some nasty demon bodily fluid. "I didn't know I needed an appointment. I've just got away from my conference, and thought I might be able to meet with him for a few minutes." She held out her business card- her official business card, from the university- for the man to take.
He took it and squinted at it. "You are a professor of folklore at University of Pennsylvania?" He seemed to reassess his attitude toward her. "You came awfully far for a conference. Can I ask what you specialty is?"
Rowan shifted her briefcase from one hand to the other. "Occult history and demonology, unofficially. Celtic mythology, officially."
The corner of the Brit's mouth turned up. "Really? And what brings you to see Angel?"
Rowan took the upper hand, tired of being stalled. "I wanted to talk to the only souled vampire known to exist about something of great importance to him."
The man barely blinked. "Well, I guess I'll see if he's available yet this evening. The sun has barely set yet." He turned, her card in his hand, and took deliberate, retreating steps into the office door directly behind the front desk. The door shut behind him with a swish.
Well, Rowan thought, that ought to get everyone's attention. She hadn't known exactly what she would say when she got here- she really had only gotten up the nerve to come here a day or two before her conference started- but had thought that the Goddess would step in if she made too much a mess of things. The dreams had hounded her until the decision to see Angel was firm in her mind; they were simply too important to allow her usual sense of shyness to get in the way.
Rowan strolled around the lobby while she waited and found a place to sit on a nice, overstuffed armchair. There was an equally over-stuffed ottoman beneath it, and she took off her shoes to take advantage of its plushness. She had hardly settled into it when the lobby door opened and two young brunettes strode in, chattering away.
"And these shoes! I got them at 75% off. Even though they are a little tight, I just couldn't pass up such a bargain…" The taller girl- Rowan couldn't think of another way to describe her, she was probably within a year or two of Rowan's own age- stopped when she spied Rowan. "Hi! Can I help you with something?" The question ended with a slightly forced smile, as if she did not want to show open mistrust of the stranger.
Rowan smiled back. "A British gentleman has already helped me, but thank you. He went to see if Angel would be able to see me."
The short one seemed to fade into the woodwork at the mention of Angel's name, but the taller one crossed her arms in front of her chest and stood a little taller. "And what did you want to see him about? You're not a lawyer, are you?"
Rowan frowned slightly at the immediate sense of anger radiating off of the girl, "No, I'm not a lawyer. Though I can understand your dislike of them."
"And what would you know about me?" the girl spat out with fire flashing in her eyes.
Rowan struggled to sit up. "Other than you can be a little rude, nothing,."
Rowan opened her mouth to continue, but the office door slid open and a British voice called, "He'll be right out…" just as the tall girl clutched her head in pain before tumbling to the ground. A tall, dark man ran down the staircase, catching the girl just before her head had a hard contact with the marble floor. The British man hurried to join the group crouched on the floor beside the tall brunette, some sort of pills in one hand and a glass of water in the other. The scene was oddly quiet, with everyone speaking in hushed voices.
Curiosity won out over Rowan's normal hesitance. She made her way to kneel beside the girl as well, chanting a calming spell in her head. Holding her hands over the girl's head, and slowly moving them down her whole body, a green-gold glow began to build up. Before she could continue and actually lay hands on the girl, though, she felt a hard crack against her skull and fell into darkness.
Rowan felt sore and her head ached. She didn't remember exactly what happened before she passed out, but remembered the state of the girl she had tried to help. Opening her eyes and trying to turn over, she mumbled a question about the state of the girl's recovery. She received no answer, but her eyes focused on the tall, dark man seated across from her, who was holding a heavy battle-axe casually in one hand.
He didn't wait to make sure she was fully conscious before speaking. "Who the hell are you?"
Rowan frowned slightly. Why the attitude? She had been trying to help, after all. And she had already told that stupid British man her name…
She didn't answer him quickly enough, evidently, because he rose and approached her, towering over her with the axe still in hand. "Forget who you are. I don't really care. What did you do to Cordelia?"
Rowan slowly pushed herself into a sitting position, as the last seconds before she lost consciousness came back to her. Rowan was suddenly very uncomfortable where she was, and tried to rise.
The man caught her arm and forced her to sit back down. Probably good, she thought, as she tried to make the room stop spinning. "I was trying to reduce the pain she was obviously feeling."
His eyes narrowed a little. "Why?"
Rowan felt her final nerve snap. This really had been a ridiculous idea. "Because that's what good witches do? Why the hell did you clock me one?"
The man returned to his seat across from. "I don't know who you are, but you know who- and what- I am. How do I know that you were really helping her?"
"I don't really care what you believe right now. I just want to get out of here." Rowan fumbled on the floor with her feet, looking for her heels- which were gone. "I think I made a mistake coming here in the first place. Trying to help just compounded it."
"Just why did you come here in the first place?"
Rowan took a really deep breath. She wasn't sure what she should tell this man, or if she should just concoct some wild story and get out. But she had come so far, she figured on last attempt to get to Angel couldn't hurt. "I'll only explain what brought me here to Angel himself."
The man nodded at her. "You're looking at him."
Disclaimer- The only character I own here is Rowan herself; the rest I borrow.
Summary- This takes place before Cordelia becomes part demon and before Connor is born.
The hotel lobby was empty when Rowan pushed open the heavy glass doors. The lobby was sparsely furnished, chairs and tables of good quality but having seen better days, just like the rest of the Hyperion. This is where they run a business? she asked herself, walking over to the desk and *pinging* the bell.
A dark haired, thin man, twitchy and, she discovered once he spoke, English. "May I help you?"
Rowan held her breath for a moment. She had never really thought how to ask for a vampire with no last name; she only knew him as Angel or Angelus, and it seemed terrible personal to ask for him like that when he didn't even know her. But asking to speak to the vampire with a soul would probably raise even more eyebrows. "I would like to see…" Mr. Angel? she quickly discarded, "..Angel."
Brit pushed his glasses up nervously. "And may I have your name?" he clipped in his soft accent.
Rowan blinked at him like an owl. Her name? Would giving her last name disturb him? Did he even remember his human name anymore? "Rowan McKinney Gallagher."
Brit-boy flipped awkwardly through a date book behind the desk. "Did you call ahead for an appointment? I don't seem to have your name or number back here anywhere…"
Rowan bit her lip. She hadn't thought that she'd need an appointment to see a crusader for the Powers that Be; his usual clients were hardly the kind to call ahead. But then again, she probably didn't look quite like his normal clients. She still had her business suit on from the conference today, the laser pointer from her paper presentation in the right hand pocket. Her hair was neatly piled in a bun-like arrangement on the top of her head, and her heels were just a little too tall for comfort after eight hours on her feet. She certainly wasn't running away from a big bad, fearful for her life, or covered in some nasty demon bodily fluid. "I didn't know I needed an appointment. I've just got away from my conference, and thought I might be able to meet with him for a few minutes." She held out her business card- her official business card, from the university- for the man to take.
He took it and squinted at it. "You are a professor of folklore at University of Pennsylvania?" He seemed to reassess his attitude toward her. "You came awfully far for a conference. Can I ask what you specialty is?"
Rowan shifted her briefcase from one hand to the other. "Occult history and demonology, unofficially. Celtic mythology, officially."
The corner of the Brit's mouth turned up. "Really? And what brings you to see Angel?"
Rowan took the upper hand, tired of being stalled. "I wanted to talk to the only souled vampire known to exist about something of great importance to him."
The man barely blinked. "Well, I guess I'll see if he's available yet this evening. The sun has barely set yet." He turned, her card in his hand, and took deliberate, retreating steps into the office door directly behind the front desk. The door shut behind him with a swish.
Well, Rowan thought, that ought to get everyone's attention. She hadn't known exactly what she would say when she got here- she really had only gotten up the nerve to come here a day or two before her conference started- but had thought that the Goddess would step in if she made too much a mess of things. The dreams had hounded her until the decision to see Angel was firm in her mind; they were simply too important to allow her usual sense of shyness to get in the way.
Rowan strolled around the lobby while she waited and found a place to sit on a nice, overstuffed armchair. There was an equally over-stuffed ottoman beneath it, and she took off her shoes to take advantage of its plushness. She had hardly settled into it when the lobby door opened and two young brunettes strode in, chattering away.
"And these shoes! I got them at 75% off. Even though they are a little tight, I just couldn't pass up such a bargain…" The taller girl- Rowan couldn't think of another way to describe her, she was probably within a year or two of Rowan's own age- stopped when she spied Rowan. "Hi! Can I help you with something?" The question ended with a slightly forced smile, as if she did not want to show open mistrust of the stranger.
Rowan smiled back. "A British gentleman has already helped me, but thank you. He went to see if Angel would be able to see me."
The short one seemed to fade into the woodwork at the mention of Angel's name, but the taller one crossed her arms in front of her chest and stood a little taller. "And what did you want to see him about? You're not a lawyer, are you?"
Rowan frowned slightly at the immediate sense of anger radiating off of the girl, "No, I'm not a lawyer. Though I can understand your dislike of them."
"And what would you know about me?" the girl spat out with fire flashing in her eyes.
Rowan struggled to sit up. "Other than you can be a little rude, nothing,."
Rowan opened her mouth to continue, but the office door slid open and a British voice called, "He'll be right out…" just as the tall girl clutched her head in pain before tumbling to the ground. A tall, dark man ran down the staircase, catching the girl just before her head had a hard contact with the marble floor. The British man hurried to join the group crouched on the floor beside the tall brunette, some sort of pills in one hand and a glass of water in the other. The scene was oddly quiet, with everyone speaking in hushed voices.
Curiosity won out over Rowan's normal hesitance. She made her way to kneel beside the girl as well, chanting a calming spell in her head. Holding her hands over the girl's head, and slowly moving them down her whole body, a green-gold glow began to build up. Before she could continue and actually lay hands on the girl, though, she felt a hard crack against her skull and fell into darkness.
Rowan felt sore and her head ached. She didn't remember exactly what happened before she passed out, but remembered the state of the girl she had tried to help. Opening her eyes and trying to turn over, she mumbled a question about the state of the girl's recovery. She received no answer, but her eyes focused on the tall, dark man seated across from her, who was holding a heavy battle-axe casually in one hand.
He didn't wait to make sure she was fully conscious before speaking. "Who the hell are you?"
Rowan frowned slightly. Why the attitude? She had been trying to help, after all. And she had already told that stupid British man her name…
She didn't answer him quickly enough, evidently, because he rose and approached her, towering over her with the axe still in hand. "Forget who you are. I don't really care. What did you do to Cordelia?"
Rowan slowly pushed herself into a sitting position, as the last seconds before she lost consciousness came back to her. Rowan was suddenly very uncomfortable where she was, and tried to rise.
The man caught her arm and forced her to sit back down. Probably good, she thought, as she tried to make the room stop spinning. "I was trying to reduce the pain she was obviously feeling."
His eyes narrowed a little. "Why?"
Rowan felt her final nerve snap. This really had been a ridiculous idea. "Because that's what good witches do? Why the hell did you clock me one?"
The man returned to his seat across from. "I don't know who you are, but you know who- and what- I am. How do I know that you were really helping her?"
"I don't really care what you believe right now. I just want to get out of here." Rowan fumbled on the floor with her feet, looking for her heels- which were gone. "I think I made a mistake coming here in the first place. Trying to help just compounded it."
"Just why did you come here in the first place?"
Rowan took a really deep breath. She wasn't sure what she should tell this man, or if she should just concoct some wild story and get out. But she had come so far, she figured on last attempt to get to Angel couldn't hurt. "I'll only explain what brought me here to Angel himself."
The man nodded at her. "You're looking at him."