"Get lost pal," Angel shot back. "I don't have a light."
The vampire growled, annoyed. "I deserve a little respect buddy!" He pushed Angel in the back.
Revealing his demonic visage, Angel snarled. The vampire facing him was a 'suit'; mid-fifties, the sort of guy who dyed his hair jet black to try to keep his job with the company, only now he was dead, and his hair colorant was fading. In his short time in Sunnydale, he'd seen plenty of his type rising in the cemeteries; turned to make up the numbers.
This particular one was also drunk.
"You should learn to respect those older and wiser than you buddy," the vampire ranted. "I ain't just a piece of shit, no matter what those corporate punks think! You can't just push me around either!"
Angel caught the other's fist. "Good point kid," He stared hard. The suit backed off.
If he were still alive, Angel knew that he would have breathed a sigh of relief. It was a close call. If the vampire had been closer to his own age, he wouldn't have given up so easily, and drunk or no, a fight would still have attracted the attention of others.
But Angel
didn't have time to think of the consequences. He was on a mission; to gather
information on the new vamps in town and their movements, the one way he knew
how: by visiting The Alibi Room and beating the crap out of the barman.
Willy hated the daytime. It was bad for business. Apart from a Skar and a Fungus demon, the bar was pretty much dead. He had to hand it to vampires – they sure knew how to drink.
Skars were pretty low in the demon pecking order. Lean, muscular, with coal black skin, opaque deep blue eyes and spikes of bone where their mouths should be, they looked fairly intimidating. But then looks weren't really anything even where the denizens of Hell were concerned in his experience, that and they weren't really the sort to drown their sorrows too often.
As for the fungus demon – 'yeesh' probably described the whole thing well enough.
"You guys hear somethin'?" Willy asked.
The Skar grunted. Lord knows what the fungus demon was trying to say.
"There's somethin' in the cellar," The barman whispered. "Oh Jesus there's somethin' in the cellar…."
Stepping out back, Willy shivered. He really didn't know who or what was waiting for him; even the baseball bat failed to calm his nerves. He was a coward. He accepted his lack of spine….
"Willy."
Willy started to sweat. "Who's there?" he called nervously. The voice sounded human, but a human could do him enough damage, aside from being a coward, Willy could hardly claim to be a physical man. He bruised pretty easily.
"Over here."
Looking around, Willy caught movement in the shade.
Oh boy, "Guess you're not too big on the ol' sunlight eh friend?"
"Good call, but I wouldn't walk into the light if I were you."
Suddenly the voice became familiar - too familiar. Willy walked a little closer to his vampire visitor. "Angel!" he said, his tone welcoming. "You're early today. What? You fancied a tan for the ladies?"
No retort came.
"Heh, bad joke," Willy said apologetically. "So I take it that this ain't no social call?"
"Gee Willy, and I thought we were friends," Angel said with mock hurt.
"Oh we are, we are," Willy stuttered.
"Good. Because seeing as we're such good friends, I thought that you might be able to do me a favour," Angel replied.
"Favour? What kind are we talkin' about here?"
"Information."
It figured. Willy had met more than his fair share of bloodsuckers in his time, most kept themselves to themselves, fed on the populous and left town - never batting an eyelid about other demon activity. But Angel was a whole other ball game. The guy seemed to have a real grudge against other vamps, always coming to the bar when there were no others of his kind around – Angel hated them. However, he still took a keen interest in vampire movements. If there was anybody new, then Angel wanted to keep tabs on them. He was unusual but at least he was fair and he paid well if a tip-off rang true.
"On what?" he asked.
"There's some new players in town," Angel said calmly. "Vampires - I want to you to find out everything you can. That is if you don't already have a little something that you'd want to share?"
Willy rubbed his chin. "Some 'o my regulars, they been talkin' about gettin' out of town. Other vampires, somethin' about 'The Master.' They say these guys are bad news."
"Tell me something I don't know," Angel asked.
"I ain't got nothin' for ya Angel – I swear!"
"Here," the vampire tossed over some greenbacks.
"Fifty?" Willy probed. "This is heavy stuff ya know…."
"Get me all you can and there's another three hundred," Angel instructed.
"Three hundred bucks," Willy said, surprised. "What's the deal with these guys?"
"Just get me what you can," Angel said abruptly. "And Willy?"
"Uh huh."
"Don't screw me around."
"Hey, what d'ya take me for!" Willy narrowed his eyes.
Angel was gone.
He didn't quite know why but Willy knew that he was still sweating. Angel could scare the shit right out of him and when he left it subsided, but if anything his condition was getting worse. Whatever it was that was going to go down in Sunnydale, it had to be serious to get somebody like Angel scared. If there was one thing to recommend being a coward, it was probably a coward's ability to sense things to be afraid of and sense the fear in others – or at least he thought he could. One thing was for certain. He'd get Angel his info.
His
coward-sense told him that the three hundred and fifty bucks might be the last
that he'd ever see…
That's Willy taken care of. One down, one to go, Angel thought as he made his way back through the tunnels…
If Willy
was going to need time, then he needed
the expert…
Rupert Giles studied his volume of Bjorn Larsen's "Vampyre – the anatomy of evil" as he packed his weapons. While it was difficult to determine when a vampire would rise, he found it a useful text when it came to calculating an estimate. With luck he would be able to kill the demon within Jaclyn McCormick before it re-animated her corpse – assuming that the girl was turned. If Willow's eyewitness account was accurate then the girl was badly mutilated thus making it highly likely that the girl was only intended to be food.
Either way, he'd find out soon enough.
He grinned. Breaking into a morgue was hardly the pastime of an American librarian. A British librarian doing so simply beggared belief. Then again, it was hardly a pastime; he would take to no pleasure in what he was about to do. Refocusing on the job at hand, he started checking his itinerary:
One crossbow – check, five wooden stakes – check, twelve vials of holy water – check, one crucifix – check…
Flinching, the Watcher glanced out of his office window. Bloody hell Giles, you'll give yourself a heart attack if you're not careful man!
The rapping on his door was gentle and controlled.
"Coming," Giles took out his key. "Hang on a minute."
As he met the gaze of the man standing in front of him, Giles froze.
"Can I come in?"
Stepping back Giles, picked up a wooden crucifix and held it up in front of him. Icons that represented divinity to mankind had been one of the earliest weapons against vampires. The young man grimaced accordingly in response.
Grabbing his crossbow with his free hand, Giles relaxed slightly. "Please do," He said.
"Not like this," Angel said, irritated.
"Forgive me Angelus," Giles said. "Simply a precaution you understand."
"Then at least drop the cross - I'm betting you know how to use the 'bow."
"Hmm. I read that you're something of a gambling 'man'," Giles replied.
"You've done you're homework. Not bad for a Watcher without a Slayer," Angel told him.
"You knew before you came here didn't you?"
Angel nodded. "You tried fighting off a vampire, only two kinds of men do that – the stupid ones and Watchers. Accent told me all I needed to know."
"Why are you here?" Giles asked suspiciously.
"I need your help," Angel confessed. "Something big is going down here and somebody's got to stop it."
Giles laughed. "I think you overestimate Watchers."
"You really don't trust me do you?" Angel glared at the Watcher. "I saved your hide, me, a vampire! Why should I even think about that huh?"
"You're
not like other vampires Angel. You
like to play games with the people you kill," Giles said coolly. "Frankly, I
don't see why such a creature would warrant my trust…."
Angel turned his back on him. Giles' first instinct told him to try his luck and let loose with a crossbow bolt but he'd seen the vampire fight hand-to-hand. If he missed, he wouldn't survive. The vampire seemed deep in thought…
"Everything you've said about me is true," he said frankly. "But if you've checked your books then you know that there's been no record of me feeding on humans this century. Truth is I don't think I've been a vampire for a long time.
"You know what happens right? A demon takes a body – it doesn't take your soul. Where that goes, I don't have a clue… About a hundred years ago I killed a gypsy girl. She was the favourite daughter of her clan – beautiful but like so many young girls, she was as dull as a post. I thought that nobody could have seen me feed off her. I was wrong. A few nights later I stuck around to watch what I thought was a funeral ceremony. Boy, was I wrong!
"See the thing about Romany is, you grow up thinking that gypsy curses are nonsense so when you find out the truth its too late for you. They called it the ritual of restoration. Next thing I know this gypsy man is staring down at me and I'm feeling the most incredible pain…"
Angelus fell to his knees as it became too much to bear. In his lifetime he had witnessed the most sickening pain within men, in most cases he had delivered it unto them, and still none of it matched what he now felt. It clawed at his heart, an invisible force, tearing him asunder.
Angelus wanted it to stop.
But his enemy was as he himself was.
Without compassion, without mercy – it would never cease.
The gypsy stared at him, eyes hollow with his fury. "It hurts yes?" he said in English. "Good. It will hurt more."
Why do you want to hurt me man? Angelus thought to himself. "Where am I?" he pleaded.
The gypsy smiled contemptuously. "You don't remember. Everything you've done, for a hundred years, in a moment you will. The face of everyone you killed–our daughter's face-they will haunt you and you will know what true suffering is."
"Killed?" Angelus said breathlessly. "I don't…."
Mere
moments ago all Angelus was able to recall were his dear friend Sandy Burns and
the young woman walking down into the alley. Now, his memory was different.
Very different, fuller, vivid and more terrifying than any nightmare.
Darla - his reawakening into the night, the men, the women, the little ones, Drusilla.
The gypsy girl, the daughter the man spoke of…how she loved life in her innocence…the innocence he violated so joyously.
"Liam, Angel! Please!" his mother's scream, as he…
As he killed her. As he killed them all with a smile…
Angelus screamed. "No!"
"Yes!" the gypsy man hissed with satisfaction. "Feel it Mulo…feel the pain…"
"No! Sandy? Sandy? C'mon, stop foolin' around man!" Angelus yelled maniacally. "Where are ye? Sandy!"
"He's gone," the gypsy chided. "All your friends are gone. You killed them."
Angelus crawled forward and clawed at the man's legs. What had he done to him? What was he? What kind of monster had Darla made him? He couldn't be what he now saw with his mind's eye. He was a man.
He was a man.
"What have you done to me?" Angelus sobbed.
"We have given you a gift," the gypsy said with pride. "We have returned to you that which you sacrificed, vampire. We have brought you back your soul."
"My soul?" Angel wept, perplexed. "What did ye call me?"
The gypsy laughed callously. "Vampire. You are a demon, my boy!"
"Demon…" Angelus repeated. His mind flashed back to Darla's face. Her yellow, predatory eyes, her blood stained fangs. She was a vampire. He remembered the myths from childhood. He had drunk of her blood. He was a vampire. "God!" he screamed. "Why have you forsaken me?"
