The Razor's Edge
Megan@MidnightSequel of a sort to Haunted.
Sheldon Jeffrey Sands looks good after dark. Wearing black silk and leather, moving like sin and smiling like death himself, L.A at night suits him. Fits him like a second skin or a third arm. He stalks the streets with his guns and a stake these days. Prosthetic arms are a pain to replace, even if they do make an effective weapon against vampires when set on fire.
During the day he wanders L.A. in t-shirt and jeans, just any other beautiful person in the city of angels. At night he falls. Dark on dark clothes, looking better than Angel could ever hope to. If the vampire with soul saw him, he might dust himself from envy.
Sheldon Sands is findind his balance after dark. He had it in Mexico, building houses of cards with human lives, walking lightly on the razor's edge. He had his balance perfectly and he knew, he knew nothing would knock him off. He's never fall, never misplay his cards so badly that they'd fall on him.
Then came the push. Knocked him square off-balance, into the hands of his enemy. His cards falling all around him as he fell, his balance lost, the razor edge covered in his blood. Darkness all around him, the light lost forever. His sense of balance as lost to him as his soulful brown eyes.
Then, a chance meeting, an unbelievable offer and he was returned to the light. But he can still feel the blood coating the line he's meant to walk. He can't find his balance on the blade. He's lost his balance and his new blues haven't changed that. If anything they've made his balance worse, because now he knows how easy it is to slip and fall. He's seen, or rather not seen, the consequences of one single misstep. A little misplaced trust and there's his blood all over the blade.
Agent Sands is tired of not having his balance. Dark on dark he hunts it in the Los Angeles night. He's going to wash his blood from the edge so he can stand again, he's going to wash it in the blood of everyone who caused his fall in Mexico. Those who survived in the first place. He's found he likes L.A. It seems to fit him.
He's got blood that need repaying and he means to collect. Here. In this city. Where he chooses and when he chooses. He can already feel the sharp edge under his feet. There will be balance for Agent Sands again. He'll make it anew, to fit his new eyes and new city. To fit him, again. He's rebuilding himself learning his new balance. He's sure he'll be dancing the razor's edge soon enough.
He smiles, all teeth and goes to hunt some balance.