Angel the series was created and is owned by the Joss Whedon. I just work here. On a side note- please tell me what you think about the story so far. Bad? Good? Boring? I'd like to know. E-mail me exit_12_@hotmail.com. Or visit my web page at http://members.xoom.com/D_exit_12 Thank you. (Bows and departs).
SYMPATHY FOR THE DEVIL
(part four)
by Lamech
Cully stood before Wesley's front door with a box full of chocolate bars in her arms. Her hair was brushed behind her ears and she was grinning as warmly as she could. She looked like a school kid on a candy drive. That was the point.
She knew she couldn't walk into Wesley's apartment without his permission. Those were the rules. But she found ways of getting permission. With a bat of an eyelash and pout of the childish lip most men were willing to give their souls to her. She knew how to work with the body she was trapped in. Being a little girl forever was not as horrible as she once first thought it would be. Evil packaged in a delicate offering was the best way to tempt mortals. No one ever saw it coming.
Still it was nearly two o'clock at night. Not a sensible time for any kind of fund raising. But Cully had a lie for that too. She, as a schoolgirl in a contest, had to sell as many candy bars as she could. And since she was new to the building, she was going to try everyone in the place. If Wesley got angry, Cully had a fix-up for that to. Cry. It was a cheap shot but she knew most people hated to see others cry. More so when it came to children.
The girl could see it all now; she would offer the candy bars and then ask to use his phone because she was supposed to call her father once she was done with the building. The father, living in a different part of town because of the divorce would then come and pick her up and Cully would work his building.
Though it sounded complicated, the plan was really simple. Knock. Offer bars. Ask to use the phone. Come in. Kill.
Joshua stood in the stairwell and peaked around the corner to where Cully was standing. He couldn't very well stand next to his sire. Wesley would take one look at him and freak. No, Cully instead said she would walk in grab Wesley, snap his neck, not to kill him but to paralyze him and drag him out into the hallway. Then Joshua and her could finish the job.
Cully cleared her throat and knocked.
She waited. Nothing came.
She knocked again.
Not even a stir behind the door answered her.
She knocked again but with a little more force. Maybe Wesley was asleep. Though she couldn't understand why. He had just fought a vampire. Cully imagined that would keep even the most sound hunters awake through the night. At least for one night.
"Hello?" she called out.
"He's not there," a voice called from behind Joshua.
He turned around to see a middle aged woman in a blue housedress. Her blonde hair was tainted with silver strands and her face was worn with well-earned wrinkles. The woman took one look at Joshua and walked past him as if he was some sort of stairwell decoration. However she looked at Cully with some curiosity. Cully gave the woman a sad, puppy dog stare.
"He's not?" she sighed.
"No, he just went out. I heard him run down the stairs about ten minutes ago." The woman walked up to the girl and folded her arms. "Why do you want him?"
Cully's eyes went wide. She was going to have to make up a good one. "We," she began as she pointed to Joshua and herself, "were supposed to meet him here."
The woman suddenly threw up her hands, breaking the girl's rhythm. "Wait. You talk funny."
"Funny?" Cully sneered. A rash of anger came out in her voice. She couldn't help it. She covered it up with a smile. "How so?"
"You talk like Wes," the woman answered.
Cully bit her tongue to keep herself from cursing the woman out for even comparing her Scottish accent to a damned English one. But she should have known better. To most uneducated Americans Scottish, Irish, English and even Aussie accent all sound the same when it came to their tin ears. And by the way this woman was carrying herself, Cully could safely bet that she wasn't a member of MENSA.
Suddenly a spark of inspiration came to the vampire. A new and better lie came into focus. "Uhm, yes, talk like Wes," she said in her best imitation of an English accent. It was a horrible try. She came off sounding like a cheap Monty Python stereotype but the girl knew that the woman would bite, hook line and sinker. "That's because Joshua, and me" she motioned for the young man to come over. He did. "Are Wesley's cousins. You see, we were supposed to meet him here and stay at his place while we are in town."
It was Joshua who took a turn to shine. "We just got off the plane a hour ago. And we are exhausted." His English accent was no better than Cully's but he continued. "All the money we have is tied up in the banks. We're supposed to go to First National later this morning so we can get our holiday spending money. Because as of this moment we don't have a penny between us." With that Joshua took the girl into his arms and hugged her. The two of them looked like a couple of depression era waifs.
The woman just stared at the two. Her arms were still folded across her ample chest.
Fine, you want to play dirty. Cully thought. We'll play dirty.
She sniffed. Tears began to well in her eyes. Burying her face in the young man's arms she wept, "Oh, Joshua, what are we going to do? Wesley could be gone for Lord knows how long and we'll be stuck in the streets. If only the landlord was here." She looked up and gasped. "The landlord. We can ask the landlord to help us. I am sure he will be kind and gentle enough to help us."
"I am the landlady," the woman suddenly said, arousing from her vegetable like state.
Cully smiled. She already knew that. She had known the moment her eyes had settled on the frumpled woman. And you look every bit the part. The girl shoved the box of chocolate bars in Joshua's arms and threw herself at the woman. The woman caught her only to have Cully continue to sob in her chest. "Oh, then you can help us! (sob) Please say you will help us (whine)! We have no one else to turn to! And we're so tired. The plane ride was so horribly long and grueling. We just want to sleep. (Sob, sob) Oh, our bones ache so much I feel like we could pass out in the hallway right at this very moment." My God it was a hammy bit of acting. But Cully could feel it working as she felt the woman's arms curling around her and embracing her.
"Don't worry, sweetheart," the woman hummed, "I'll let you in. But what about your things? Your bags! Where are your bags?"
Dammit. I forgot about that. Cully looked at the woman and allowed her face to break into loud almost obnoxious cries. "The airline lost them!"
Joshua turned away and covered his mouth. He wanted to burst out laughing. This was all too much. And when the woman replied with a "Oh, you poor child," Joshua bit the meat of his palm to muffle the giggle that just had to escape. Luckily for him the giggle sound like a defeated cry. So much the better for his cause. He felt the woman's hand climbing around him and suddenly he found himself in her tight embrace.
"You poor things, the both of you. Look you, you are both as cold as ice!" the woman proclaimed.
Joshua gasped as the wind was knocked out of him. He felt the tight squeeze of Cully's hand in his. They had won.
The woman let the two of them go. She fished a pair of keys out from her pocket, "Now if you need anything I'm on the top floor. I live with my granddaughter, Hannah. Even though she's a kid she knows this city better than anyone I know of." She pointed a key to Cully, "She's about your age. You're about ten or eleven, right?"
Cully nodded. "Eleven, ma'am."
"Oh, please, don't call me ma'am. Call me Grandma Booker. That's what everyone calls me, sweetie." Another bear hug tackled the little girl. "Anyway, when you're settled in how about you come over later this morning for some breakfast? I've always told Wesley to come over for a meal but the poor fella is always working. Maybe with his family over he'll slow down a bit."
"Maybe," smiled Cully as she wiggled out of Grandma Booker's grasp.
The woman walked past the two and jingled her keys. "There we are, Wesley's apartment." She unlocked the door and walked inside. Her hands fumbled for the light switch but she found it. "Well, in you go," she hummed as she waved Cully and Joshua into the flat.
"We're invited?" asked the girl as she her folded hands to her chest.
"Of course you are," cried the woman as she took the girl by the hand and led her into the room. "You both are. Don't be silly. At least not at this hour."
Cully looked over her shoulder at Joshua who gingerly waltzed in behind her. She raised her eyebrows and smirked. The young man nodded as he pulled out a straight razor from his pocket. Even though the blade with its ivory handle was well over a hundred years old, almost as old as the vampire that held it, the razor's edge never failed to slice.
Grandma Booker turned around in time to see the blade run across her throat. A choke that should have been scream escaped her mouth. Cully and Joshua stood before the dying woman with faces that were still human. Faces that were smiling as Grandma crawled around the floor looking for help.
Death this way was always better when the victim died thinking that her murderer was human. Always senseless. Always maddening.
Cully took a step back as the pool of blood began to race towards her feet. She didn't want to mess up her boots. They were her favorite after all.
__________________________________________________________________________________________
"What is your answer, Cordelia?" demanded Anna as she shook her fists "Is Angel a vampire or not?"
Cordelia answered with another helpless whimper. Her hands were waving wildly, trying to find some way to distract the woman. The girl was failing miserably. "He's- he's- he's," she began. She hated when she stumbled on her words so. Hated even more when the person to whom she as speaking to was making the same face that Anna was giving her know. That "don't lie to me because you don't really want to find out how mad I can get" face.
A glass of water floated in front of Cordelia. Dennis was helping out in the best way he could. The girl took a sip of water and held her breath. This was it. In one burst of verbal discussion she was going to tell all. And God help it if Angel didn't like her blabbering because this mess was his doing..
Alright. Ready. Steady. Go. "Yes, Angel's a vampire. But he's a good vampire. Not a bad one. He's- he's like Glenda the Good Witch of vampires. Well, minus the pink prom dress and helium voice. But he's good none the less. Not that he's perfect good. He still has his faults like hassling me for the way I make the coffee. But how am I supposed to know? I don't drink coffee. Well, not coffee straight up. I'm more of a Starbucks glamour coffee gal. Coffees with Italian words behind it like latte or mocha. Anyway, uhm, anyway, Angel is good. He has a soul. You see, some gypsies put the whammy on him and now he has his old soul back. Don't ask why the gypsies did it. That is water under the bridge. But he has a soul, like I said. And he's trying to make up for the wrongs he has done in his life. He's a good guy. He's really trying to help people. Oh, oh, he's save lives. He has saved my life and Wesley's as well. He fights demons and other vampires. Angel that is not Wesley. No, wait, Wesley fights as well. But you get my point. And I'm really rambling. But to put it in the Reader's Digest version, Angel is good vampire."
Cordelia took another sip of water as she watched Anna sink onto the couch.
The woman's eyes drifted from Cordelia to nowhere in particular.
"So, Angel is a vampire," the woman said in a breathless whisper.
"He's a good vampire," emphasized Cordelia as she waved her glass in the woman's direction.
"Angel is a vampire," the woman repeated but in a shocked tone.
"I think you're missing the point," Cordelia chimed as she stood in front of the woman. She waved her hands as if they were holding batons. "Now say it with me, 'Angel is a good vampire.'"
Anna's face drifted up to the girl's own. Her eyes were round and hollow like two blinding moons. Cordelia could not see or tell what emotions hid behind them. The girl didn't know whether to speak or to run. Still with all the time she had worked for Angel and fought along side with Buffy she knew it was best to take a steady, easy step backwards. Just a safe enough distance for a good running start.
"Anna?"
The woman dropped her head down with a heavy sigh. She suddenly burst to her feet and kicked the table. The table would have flipped completely over if Dennis had not caught it in time. The vase and sunflowers danced back to their resting space. All of this was irrelevant to Anna. Her eyes were focused on the trembling girl before her.
"YOU WORK FOR A VAMPIRE!" Anna screamed as her face flushed red with anger. "MY HUSBAND WAS KILLED BY ONE OF THEM AND YOU WORK FOR ONE!"
"He's good!" Cordelia whimpered, "I swear to God, I swear on my own life, Angel is good. He wouldn't harm anyone who is innocent. Please! Please! Believe me." The girl took a few steps backwards as she talked. Her eyes darted around looking for a sign that Dennis was near. But nothing moved. Where was he when she needed him the most? She could feel her heart in her chest pound and her mind raced as she thought about fleeing out the front door. She could probably make it before Anna was able to react. But something told the girl to remain where she was. A wisp of headache trailed through her mind. Oh, God, this better not be one of those vision warning signals. I don't need this right now, Power whatever you are.
Anna gritted her teeth; "You work for a seggfej vampire!" Her hands curled up to tight fists as she followed the girl step by step. "A vampire!"
Cordelia closed her eyes. Where was Dennis? WHERE WAS HE? If he didn't act soon he was going to end up with a permanent roommate. Not because of Anna's handiwork but because Cordelia was going to have a heart attack from fright. She wondered why she was not fighting herself. She had fought before and fought well. The girl sucked the air in her chest. She wasn't going to give up without at least a tussle. She had real nails. She could scratch. She saw Jerry Springer enough times to pick up a thing or two on how to cat fight. At least Angel would be proud to say she went down kicking and screaming. She just hoped that Anna would leave her face alone. Live fast, die young leave a good-looking corpse.
Suddenly a sob broke her train of thought. Cordelia opened one eye. The coast was clear. The other eye followed as another sob broke through the silence.
"Anna?"
The girl looked down to see Anna at her feet in a sad mess. The woman was curled up in a ball. Her face was buried in her hands. Tears were running between her fingers and soaking the floor. Her body was shaking as she sobbed with such violence that she looked like she convulsing.
Cordelia shivered in shock. Suddenly a floating towel appeared before her. Oh, there you are, you coward. She grabbed it and went to her knees. "Anna?"
The woman looked up and took the towel. She held it to her face as if it were a security blanket. "How cruel God is. He made a demon my enemy as well as my savior."
The girl's hands gently drifted over to the woman's tired face and wiped a stray tear off of her cheek. A sweetness fell over the girl as she took the woman into her arms and hugged her. Cordelia had been where Anna was at right now. Where good and evil, black and white took on shades of shifting gray. Been through the very same footsteps. But she had others to help her out. Buffy, Willow, Giles and for the most part Xander were there to keep her sane. Now it was her turn to be the stable one, to be the rock. She hoped she would not fail in her duty.
__________________________________________________________________________
Wesley began his fifth cup of coffee and looked around the dinner. The place was almost completely empty except for a stray girl at the far left end of the dinner and a couple of waitresses who were trying to figure out what was wrong with the cash register.
The young man tried to strike up a conversation with one of them. But the woman would run past him with an "I'll get to you in a minute, hun," at his every attempt. The only time she would stop was when Wesley held out his empty coffee cup. The woman would look at it, smile and disappeared behind a door marked "Kitchen". A second later she would reappear with a cup of coffee with a thick head of whipped cream decorating the top. And off she would go to some unknown source of urgency.
This was not Wesley had in mind when he wanted "human contact." But he didn't mind. The place was quiet and peaceful. He could hear music drifting in from the kitchen. He leaned forward and tried to tune into the song. He recognized some of the lyrics.
"Please to meet you. Hope you guess my name. But what's puzzling you is the nature of my game."
"'Sympathy for the Devil'" Wesley mouthed. He smirked. "Fitting for a night like this." He took another sip of his drink. His cheeks burned with warmth that he had not felt in ages. Dismissing the feeling to left over adrenaline, he continued to drink and listen to the music.
"What is the nature of your game?" whispered the young man with an angelic smile. Another large gulp went down his throat, ending cup number five. He held it up knowing that somehow by some strange reason his waitress would see it. A minute later he was proven right when coffee mug number six was settled in front of him.
"Thank you very much," he said to the vanishing woman.
The young man sat on his barstool and began to figure out how he was going to drink the coffee without getting a face full of whipped cream. He had done it so easily with the first one but for an answer he couldn't figure out the act of drinking without the added prize of a cream mustache was becoming more and more difficult with each new mug. Maybe it was the burden of lack of sleep catching up to him.
He looked at his mug and shrugged his shoulders. "Well, there's always napkins." And with that he took a swig of his coffee. Cream dribbled down his chin and onto his shirt. He groaned and settled the mug back onto the counter. This was not what he wanted.
The kitchen door swung open. Mick Jagger was still bellowing.
"Here you go," hummed a voice.
A clean washcloth appeared on the counter before the man. He looked up to see his waitress looking at his stained shirt. The young man blushed and took it.
"At least you didn't get it on your jacket," the woman said as she waited for the young man to finish his semiwashing.
"Doesn't matter," the young man replied back. "It's not like the jacket is dry clean only. I couldn't have those type of clothes in my line of work."
"Oh, what do you do?"
"I'm a detect-," Wesley paused and sighed. He couldn't call himself that, not with a straight face. "I'm a hunter. And I'm a lousy one at that." He quickly sped up the pace of the way the washcloth was rubbing against his shirt.
The waitress was interested. She grabbed the washcloth from Wesley's hands and began to clean his shirt herself. The young man felt his cheeks burn even more as he could smell a mix of dishwashing liquid and cheap perfume waft from the woman's dry skin. "And what do you hunt? Deer? Bear? Cougar?"
The young man shook his head. Not because she was wrong. Which she was. But because he was trying to resist the urge to lean over and kiss her. It had been a while since he had kissed a woman. Last time it was with Cordelia and that meant nothing. She had only kissed him in order to rid herself of Doyle's gift to her. What Wesley wanted was a real kiss. He wanted to kiss and to be kissed back. "No," he whispered in a husky voice that slurred his accent. His hands grabbed hers and pushed them away, gently. In the deepest part of his mind he knew he couldn't force her to kiss him. She would get angry and kick him out. Or worse call the police for sexual assault. And that's all he needed.
Though he wouldn't be surprise. Doesn't trouble come in threes? The first one was the vampire in the alleyway. I know it is going to go from bad to worse. What will come next? He smiled as a thought approached his mind. Maybe he should kiss her. If a day in jail were one of his troubles than it would be fine with him. Jail would be a cakewalk as far as he was concerned.
"Well, what do you hunt then?" the waitress asked again.
Wesley shook his head. Back to reality, at least for now. The young man took a sip of his coffee. "I hunt things."
The woman wrung the washcloth in her hands over a large basin that was settled behind the counter. She smiled at the odd answer. "Things?"
"Things," replied the Wesley, "And trust me when I say I should leave it at that."
With a shrug of her well padded shoulders, the woman began to wipe down the counter that was around the young man.
A loud ring made Wesley jump. He was glad that his was cup was barely full otherwise his shirt would have been washed for nothing. He grabbed within the folds of his jacket and pulled out a tiny phone.
"Hello?" he answered.
"Wesley, this is Angel. I'm sorry I have to wake you up."
The tone of voice was a calm but concerned one. Wesley smiled and shook his head even though he knew very well that the vampire could not see him
"I wasn't asleep."
On the other side Angel noticed there was something odd to the young man's voice. His accent had become thicker. Still the vampire dismissed it.
"Good then. Can you meet me at the office in ten minutes? I just received a call from one of my contacts. He gave me an address to a place downtown that could answer some of our questions about the vampire."
"I don't know, Angel," Wesley said as his face took on a melancholy look. "Couldn't you do this one without me?"
"Wesley?" the vampire said as he just about fell out of the chair he was sitting in.
The young man leaned over the counter and stared into his coffee mug. "If I go I am bound to fail. It is how I am. How I will always be. I've made such a mess of things with my life and I refuse to drag you and Cordelia down with me. It is the only honorable act that I cannot flaw."
"Wesley?" Angel said again. His eyes were big as saucers and jaw was hanging open. These words were so unlike the man. Wesley was always trying to prove himself. He was the first to try and the last to give up.
"Yes, I'll take another cup."
Angel blinked at the strange phrase. "What?!"
"I wasn't talking to you," Wesley answered as he watched his waitress take away his empty coffee mug. "I was just talking to Yolanda."
"Yolanda?"
"Yes, the waitress."
"Huh?" Angel stood up and looked at his phone. He shook his head trying to make sense of the man's words. "Wes, where are you?" Angel's patience though most times was infinite was at the moment becoming thin.
"You know of the diner that is a block away from my flat?" Wesley began as he took his new creamed top mug in hand.
Angel shook his head. "No."
"Well, I am here." He licked the whipped cream off from his topped lip. "Enjoying coffee type "number thirty-two"."
The vampire began to pace around the room with the phone cord trailing behind him like a plastic tail. He ran his right hand through his hair, "Number thirty-two?"
"Yes," Wesley took a sip of his coffee and smiled. He didn't know why he was smiling. He just felt like doing so. "It's the diner's strongest coffee. At least that is what Yolanda said. And I trust her in her beverage judgment."
"Beverage jud-no, this is not right. Not right," Angel said as he stopped in his tracks. Wesley was acting to strange and regular coffee did not do such things to the human body. "Wesley, I need you to listen to me."
"Yes, Angel. What do you want me to do? If it is fowling up, messing up things or just getting the Powers That Be to laugh at me then I am here for you." Another sip went down. Wesley was now looking at the bottom of his coffee cup. He knew how to read tea leaves but what about coffee stains? He did not really need to do any research on the subject because he already knew what his future held for him. Bad luck. Bad luck for the rest of his miserable life. Taking a napkin he crumpled it up and stuffed it into the mug. He then asked Yolanda to grab another mug. "I am your fortune's fool," he said in a pitiful whisper.
On the other side of the phone, Angel rolled his eyes and hissed into the phone for Wesley to shut up for once. The young man obeyed without an apologetic whimper. "Now ask Yolanda what a "number thirty-two" is."
"Okay, sure, whatever."
Angel mouthed the man's almost typical Californian reply. He could hear Wesley call out to the waitress. In return the woman, who was making a loud racket, she seemed to be carrying some plates in her arms, at least that's what Angel thought he heard, came over to the man.
Wesley pointed to the phone; "This is Angel. Would you please tell him what a "number thirty-two" is?"
The waitress leaned towards the tiny phone's receiver. She didn't know who this "Angel" character was. Didn't know if he was a he or she was a she. Still she talked. "A "number thirty-two" is the strongest coffee mix we have. And your friend just finished his seventh cup. How he's still upright is beyond me. After all this coffee is a real mule kick."
"THAT WAS NOT WHAT I MEAN!!!!" Angel shouted. He could only imagine Yolanda taking a surprised step back as his emotional outburst blasted her. Lowering his voice to a sane tone he continued, "What exactly is in the coffee?"
"Oh," the woman responded in a gentle voice, "You mean what type is it?"
Now he was getting somewhere. Angel nodded and realized that he would have to say something verbally. "Yes," he responded in a tired voice, "What type is it?"
"It's Irish coffee."
What came next was an instant and simultaneous reaction on both Wesley and Angel's part. The act was almost as if they had rehearsed it. "WHAT?!" both of them screamed.
Wesley's head hit the counter top with a dull thud, "Christ, I'm pissed."
"Drunk," mumured the vampire as he held down the receiver. That explained a lot. He had never seen the young man drunk before. So, this was the drunk version of Wesley, a sniveling pup that did not have an ounce of self worth in himself. It was much like the old Watcher Wesley. Angel was not too please with him. Still Wesley was still needed. "Go home, Wes. I've got a sobriety spell here we can use. I'll come and pick you up."
"I am such a moron," whined the young man as he placed the phone of the counter top. The phone was still opened and Angel was still talking.
"Wesley, did you hear me? Go home!"
The young man buried his face in his folded arms. "I will," he hissed back to the phone and then added with a whisper, "with my tail between my legs."
He couldn't believe he was drunk. He was not much of a drinker before hand. And to make it worse Angel had discovered him pissed faced. I knew it. Trouble number two has finally made its grand entrance, he thought as he paid his tab. Good God, someone shoot me before three comes.
END OF PART FOUR