Hello again! I have a new fanfiction for you. Please don't hesitate to read
and review, but please don't flame me, because if you don't like it, look
at it this way: it's a fanfic. Get over it. But thanks to all.well..2 of my
readers who submitted to Rusty's story! Cheers!
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18-year-old Desiree Lupin sat on the rooftop, her chin on her knees, lost in thought. What the hell am I gonna do now? She wondered. I can't stay here. They're gonna figure out what I am soon if I don't get outta here. Tomorrow. I'm outta here tomorrow morning, when Angel is going to sleep. They'll never see me again, and I'll figure out a place to hide until the moon wanes. Then, I'm gonna find Gabe and finish what I started.
"Desiree? You up here?" called a voice from behind her.
Desiree turned and stood as Cordelia came into view in the light of the setting sun.
"Yeah, I'm here. What's up?"
"Dinner's ready, if you're hungry. Come on down."
Desiree followed Cordelia down the three flights of stairs to Angel's apartment, where Doyle, Gunn, and Angel were sitting at the table.
Cordelia ran a hand through her dark brown hair and said, "Mmmmm. Smells good in here. What'd you cook, Doyle?"
"Spaghetti," Doyle called from Angel's kitchen.
Desiree looked interested. "Spaghetti and what?" she asked politely.
"Well, from the looks of it, spaghetti, salad, and breadsticks. Unless I'm mistaken, of course. It could be bread and water for all I know. But that's what it looks like." Gunn said, smirking as he sat down next to Cordelia.
Desiree wandered into the kitchen where she saw Doyle stirring something in a large pot.
"Hey Desiree. How're ya?" Doyle asked, his Irish lilt accenting every word. Desiree liked Doyle, for his accent if nothing else. He just gave off this sort of feeling that made you want to be comfortable around him, like her father used to. She and Gabe used to love the feeling.
A lifetime ago, she thought bitterly. A decade ago, if anyone had told me that my brother was going to turn into a vampire and went on a killing spree and I was the only one who could stop it because my father has no idea but if he strikes again on a full moon, I'm screwed, I would've told them to go to hell.
"Des? Ya zoned out on me?" Doyle's voice brought Desiree back to the present.
"No, Doyle, just lost in thought," smiled Desiree.
"Well, I for one am glad I found ya. I'd be devastated to lose your fine company." Grinned Doyle.
What a charmer. Just like Gabe and Will used to be.
"Are you sure Cordelia would put up with your charming?" asked Desiree teasingly.
"Hey, if she don't ask, I won't tell. Anyway, can you take this out to Angel? I'm gonna get this started before Gunn decides to do a mutiny," said Doyle as he handed Desiree a plastic container filled with warm blood.
Thanks to her wolf's acute sense of smell, she could tell it was pig's blood.
"Sure," Desiree said and walked into the dining room. She spotted Angel in a shadowed corner, sketching in a book and apparently lost in thought.
"Angel?"
Angel looked up calmly. Desiree handed him the container of blood.
"Thanks," he said, and put it aside and continued sketching.
Desiree's curiosity finally got the better of her and she asked, "Can I see what you're drawing?"
Angel looked up again, but this time with a surprised look on his face, and said, "Sure."
Desiree looked over his shoulder to see herself staring back at her.
Her portrait, that is. There sat an exact replica of her on paper, from the first time Angel must've seen her at the train station. In half of the portrait, her knees were drawn up to her chin and she was leaning against the wall, and in the other half she was in her 'attack stance' as her uncle Sirius put it, holding a stake. The details were painstakingly elaborate, all the way from the rips in the holes of her jeans to the bloodstains on her tank top to the shiny brass buckles on her boots.and even to the haggard, 'We're all gonna die' look in her eyes that her father was famous for in the first portrait, or the pure rage and hate in the second portrait that was clearly for the person opposite her. The drawing was remarkably accurate, that was for sure.
"Wow. This is really good. Are you an artist, too?"
Angel cracked a half-smile. "When you're a 250-year-old vampire, you tend to pick up on some things, although some things are better than others," he said quietly.
"Maybe so, but even if you weren't 250, you'd be able to draw this as well. You have an eye for detail, and it shows in your drawings. You also have an uncanny sense of people's emotions, and I'm sure that came with practice, but it makes a lot of difference with facial expressions. This is high- quality work."
Angel was a bit flustered by the attention and Desiree was sure that if he could've blushed, he would've.
"Which is what I've been saying to you all along Angel." Cordelia said, which made everyone laugh for no real reason.
"Well, let's dig in before it gets cold," Doyle said, and they all sat down again and started eating.
Desiree noted that the atmosphere was very family-like, and everyone had their place in it.
Gunn was the so-called 'silent eater' who didn't say a whole lot but just sat and enjoyed his food, like he hadn't been around food for a very long time, and listened to the conversations, getting a word in edgewise when he felt it was appropriate. He was a lot like Gabe had been when her little family and her uncle Sirius came to eat.
Doyle and Cordelia were the big talkers, and they spent most of the time talking about who called, the business, movies, music, and this and that, and acted like a couple very much in love with each other and just enjoyed each other's company, although they did spend most of the time arguing. They made Desiree wistfully think of her and Will together in much the same way, although not arguing half as much, and exactly of her father, her mother, and her uncle Sirius in the way that they argued.
Angel was the fatherly type of the group; he didn't say anything, ate little, and obviously had his mind focused somewhere else. On what, Desiree didn't know, as he had put his sketch pad aside out of respect of everyone eating and was now staring off into space, occasionally twisting the exquisite ring on his ring finger. The only time he said anything was to defend himself in a topic that Desiree knew nothing about.
The question is, Desiree thought, where do I fit in this picture?
She answered her own question roughly, frustrated at herself. It doesn't matter, I'll be gone by tomorrow. I really don't belong here anyway. What the hell am I doing here? I shouldn't be here. Not somebody like me.
She abruptly stood up, making everyone stop and look up at her.
"Sorry. I'm just.gonna go upstairs now. Thanks for dinner." She said, as she brought her plate into the kitchen and went out the door.
The other adults watched her go, her hands in her pockets, looking like the world had come crashing down on her head.
"What's wrong with her?" Cordelia wondered aloud.
"She didn't eat or say anything. Something's up, yo." Gunn said, in his Gunn-like manner.
Doyle shook his head. "I don't know. It's just.something about her that I can't place. It's somewhat familiar, I know I've felt it before, but I don't know what it is. Maybe it's just me."
Angel shook his head. "No, I'm sensing it too. But it doesn't feel human."
"I'm gonna go find out. The suspense is killing me," Gunn said, and went up the stairs.
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18-year-old Desiree Lupin sat on the rooftop, her chin on her knees, lost in thought. What the hell am I gonna do now? She wondered. I can't stay here. They're gonna figure out what I am soon if I don't get outta here. Tomorrow. I'm outta here tomorrow morning, when Angel is going to sleep. They'll never see me again, and I'll figure out a place to hide until the moon wanes. Then, I'm gonna find Gabe and finish what I started.
"Desiree? You up here?" called a voice from behind her.
Desiree turned and stood as Cordelia came into view in the light of the setting sun.
"Yeah, I'm here. What's up?"
"Dinner's ready, if you're hungry. Come on down."
Desiree followed Cordelia down the three flights of stairs to Angel's apartment, where Doyle, Gunn, and Angel were sitting at the table.
Cordelia ran a hand through her dark brown hair and said, "Mmmmm. Smells good in here. What'd you cook, Doyle?"
"Spaghetti," Doyle called from Angel's kitchen.
Desiree looked interested. "Spaghetti and what?" she asked politely.
"Well, from the looks of it, spaghetti, salad, and breadsticks. Unless I'm mistaken, of course. It could be bread and water for all I know. But that's what it looks like." Gunn said, smirking as he sat down next to Cordelia.
Desiree wandered into the kitchen where she saw Doyle stirring something in a large pot.
"Hey Desiree. How're ya?" Doyle asked, his Irish lilt accenting every word. Desiree liked Doyle, for his accent if nothing else. He just gave off this sort of feeling that made you want to be comfortable around him, like her father used to. She and Gabe used to love the feeling.
A lifetime ago, she thought bitterly. A decade ago, if anyone had told me that my brother was going to turn into a vampire and went on a killing spree and I was the only one who could stop it because my father has no idea but if he strikes again on a full moon, I'm screwed, I would've told them to go to hell.
"Des? Ya zoned out on me?" Doyle's voice brought Desiree back to the present.
"No, Doyle, just lost in thought," smiled Desiree.
"Well, I for one am glad I found ya. I'd be devastated to lose your fine company." Grinned Doyle.
What a charmer. Just like Gabe and Will used to be.
"Are you sure Cordelia would put up with your charming?" asked Desiree teasingly.
"Hey, if she don't ask, I won't tell. Anyway, can you take this out to Angel? I'm gonna get this started before Gunn decides to do a mutiny," said Doyle as he handed Desiree a plastic container filled with warm blood.
Thanks to her wolf's acute sense of smell, she could tell it was pig's blood.
"Sure," Desiree said and walked into the dining room. She spotted Angel in a shadowed corner, sketching in a book and apparently lost in thought.
"Angel?"
Angel looked up calmly. Desiree handed him the container of blood.
"Thanks," he said, and put it aside and continued sketching.
Desiree's curiosity finally got the better of her and she asked, "Can I see what you're drawing?"
Angel looked up again, but this time with a surprised look on his face, and said, "Sure."
Desiree looked over his shoulder to see herself staring back at her.
Her portrait, that is. There sat an exact replica of her on paper, from the first time Angel must've seen her at the train station. In half of the portrait, her knees were drawn up to her chin and she was leaning against the wall, and in the other half she was in her 'attack stance' as her uncle Sirius put it, holding a stake. The details were painstakingly elaborate, all the way from the rips in the holes of her jeans to the bloodstains on her tank top to the shiny brass buckles on her boots.and even to the haggard, 'We're all gonna die' look in her eyes that her father was famous for in the first portrait, or the pure rage and hate in the second portrait that was clearly for the person opposite her. The drawing was remarkably accurate, that was for sure.
"Wow. This is really good. Are you an artist, too?"
Angel cracked a half-smile. "When you're a 250-year-old vampire, you tend to pick up on some things, although some things are better than others," he said quietly.
"Maybe so, but even if you weren't 250, you'd be able to draw this as well. You have an eye for detail, and it shows in your drawings. You also have an uncanny sense of people's emotions, and I'm sure that came with practice, but it makes a lot of difference with facial expressions. This is high- quality work."
Angel was a bit flustered by the attention and Desiree was sure that if he could've blushed, he would've.
"Which is what I've been saying to you all along Angel." Cordelia said, which made everyone laugh for no real reason.
"Well, let's dig in before it gets cold," Doyle said, and they all sat down again and started eating.
Desiree noted that the atmosphere was very family-like, and everyone had their place in it.
Gunn was the so-called 'silent eater' who didn't say a whole lot but just sat and enjoyed his food, like he hadn't been around food for a very long time, and listened to the conversations, getting a word in edgewise when he felt it was appropriate. He was a lot like Gabe had been when her little family and her uncle Sirius came to eat.
Doyle and Cordelia were the big talkers, and they spent most of the time talking about who called, the business, movies, music, and this and that, and acted like a couple very much in love with each other and just enjoyed each other's company, although they did spend most of the time arguing. They made Desiree wistfully think of her and Will together in much the same way, although not arguing half as much, and exactly of her father, her mother, and her uncle Sirius in the way that they argued.
Angel was the fatherly type of the group; he didn't say anything, ate little, and obviously had his mind focused somewhere else. On what, Desiree didn't know, as he had put his sketch pad aside out of respect of everyone eating and was now staring off into space, occasionally twisting the exquisite ring on his ring finger. The only time he said anything was to defend himself in a topic that Desiree knew nothing about.
The question is, Desiree thought, where do I fit in this picture?
She answered her own question roughly, frustrated at herself. It doesn't matter, I'll be gone by tomorrow. I really don't belong here anyway. What the hell am I doing here? I shouldn't be here. Not somebody like me.
She abruptly stood up, making everyone stop and look up at her.
"Sorry. I'm just.gonna go upstairs now. Thanks for dinner." She said, as she brought her plate into the kitchen and went out the door.
The other adults watched her go, her hands in her pockets, looking like the world had come crashing down on her head.
"What's wrong with her?" Cordelia wondered aloud.
"She didn't eat or say anything. Something's up, yo." Gunn said, in his Gunn-like manner.
Doyle shook his head. "I don't know. It's just.something about her that I can't place. It's somewhat familiar, I know I've felt it before, but I don't know what it is. Maybe it's just me."
Angel shook his head. "No, I'm sensing it too. But it doesn't feel human."
"I'm gonna go find out. The suspense is killing me," Gunn said, and went up the stairs.
