Title: Vanilla Suicide
Author: Juliet DeMarcus
Rating: R
Spoilers: Buffy up to and including "Entropy." Angel up to and including "Double or Nothing."
Summary: Will the events of "Entropy" lead to a tragedy of near-Shakespearean proportions?
Disclaimer: "Buffy the Vampire Slayer" and "Angel" are not mine. (But I can dream, right?) I'm not making any money, so don't sue me.
Thursday - Dusk
"Angel?," Cordy stuck her head tentatively into Connor's room...or what *was* Connor's room...
It was going to take her awhile to get used to that.
Connor was gone.
The words repeated themselves over and over as she took in the all too familiar sight of Angel just standing in that room, looking around helplessly.
Connor, the sweet little baby boy they had all grown to love so much, so quickly -- the miracle child of two vampires, was lost forever. Sent to a hell dimension that could never be opened from this side again.
A hell dimension that he probably didn't survive even one day in... 'At least, he's not suffering...," Cordy tried miserably to comfort herself. 'Not suffering like the rest of us... Like Angel...' Her heart cried at the sight of him, at the light that had died in his eyes. Connor had been so good for him. Angel had a purpose, he had a life...he had a future. Now what did he have?
'Us. That's what he has!,' her thoughts took on a distinctly Cordelia-like determination as she marched over to where Angel stood, silent, having never even turned to look at her when she called for him. 'And we are going to bring him out of this. He's been through horrible things before, and he came out of it without anyone really... Now he has all of us... We're his family and we'll bring him back!'
"Angel?," she tried again gently, coming up beside him. He still did not look over at her.
"Yeah?" His voice sounded flat. Dead.
"We have a case."
He turned to her at that, his eyes impassively studying the mixture of concern and hopefulness which displayed itself in her features.
Cordelia attempted no more than a small smile in return. There was no reason to pretend. She was well aware that he knew she was worried, that she was desperate to get him out of that room -- even if it were just for a little while. No use in hiding it. They'd been through too much together for that.
His looking at her was a pleasant surprise. She had fully expected him to either tell her that the others could deal with it or just say nothing.
"Great. What do we have?"
Cordelia was lost for a moment. Staring at his face -- the subtle changes she saw there and the feelings they created in her. Muted for a moment by the pain that so clearly shone through his eyes.
He was so transparent. It worried her sometimes. That one day one of his enemies would use against him that pain they could read so easily. And they would destroy him, completely. He was already destroyed, in many ways. He'd been through so much, just within the space of one year. She wondered if he'd ever be the same again, as she felt an irresistible urge within her growing stronger, second by second... She felt... She wanted... She felt her arm begin to move slowly, her hand ready to reach out and touch his face... 'His beautiful face...' She froze. 'What?...What am I...,' but her self examination was put on hold as she realized he was staring at her, curiously, waiting. 'Oh right, the case!' She gratefully came back to the full awareness that she had started out with. That they had a case, a rather urgent one in fact, to talk about.
She immediately shook off the...whatever it was, and got back to business while that was still an option. She didn't want to lose him again. Go back to that point where he didn't even answer them for hours.
"Well, do you remember all those demons that Doyle died for?"
Angel blinked. That was an unexpected shock to the system. Cordelia had this unceremonious, abrupt way of putting things that sometimes left him breathless.
This time was no exception.
Doyle... The pain seemed fresh again in light of Angel's most recent loss. So much loss. He lost everyone. Always lost... And eventually, even those he still had by his side now would be lost. One by one...or maybe all together in some horrible tragedy. Gunn, Lorn, Fred...Cordelia. Angel swallowed hard. No, he wasn't going to think about that. He still had not spoken so Cordy had taken it upon herself to continue filling him in with the details.
"Right. Of course you remember...," she looked down a moment. Feeling guilty for both the way she had said it and for having to bring up such a dark matter on an already dark day. Angel studied her reaction, her ackwardness, and wondered if somehow she had sensed his thoughts. "Anyway, one of them contacted us, Lewin... I don't know if you remember him or...," she waited but Angel didn't respond. "Well, anyway, he says that a lot of demons...you know harmless, *good* guys like him and like...Doyle was, and like...I am now I guess," Cordelia stopped a moment, considering, then went on, "are just dropping like flies of some kind of mysterious illness that he thinks is being brought on by some kind of potion."
Angel looked interested. "Do they have any suspects?"
"Can you guess?"
"Not..."
"Nope. Can you believe there's actually one great evil a brewin' that Wolfram and Hart *doesn't* have a hand in!"
"No," Angel stated flatly, looking forward again. That cold distance was beginning to take him over again, she could see it. 'Real bright Cordelia, bring up Wolfram and Hart in a round about way...that should put him in a great state of mind!,' she thought furiously to herself. She rushed back into her explanation, hoping that something in it would snag him back out of the dark quiet that he went into, nearly all the time now.
"Actually, their suspect is some big-wig magic demon guy who is hell bent on wiping out all the demons who actually try to be decent members of society. *And* as a fairly new addition into the demon community, can I just say that I'm very disturbed by this holocaust of all the 'do-gooder demons'?"
"Anything else?," Angel inquired, still looking forward, but obviously still with her too which caused Cordelia to let out a breath she'd been holding. She tried to let it out slowly, hoping he wouldn't notice the evidence of her anxiety. Though no one could have ever known by looking at him, he heard the long, slow exale of relief. And he understood.
"Yeah. Well, they said that he is the last remaining member of some ancient race of demons that went extinct a long time ago."
Angel digested this piece of news a moment before responding thoughtfully.
"His name wouldn't happen to be Zaltimarrus?"
"Yeah,...." Cordelia glanced at the paper she was holding, then back up at Angel with confusion. "How'd you know?"
"Heard about him in my days as Angelus. Actually, thought he was a myth. Apparently not the easiest guy to track down."
"Well, they've managed to find him." She handed him the paper. Angel scanned the contents quickly.
"So, they don't need me to find the guy...they need me to..."
"Stop him."
"Kill him." Angel spoke at the same time.
"Yep, you are the champion," Cordelia answered, sounding so chipper in an attempt to reverse the dark mood of the room that she almost grimaced.
"Sounds like fun," Angel replied, still no feeling to be heard in his monotone. With that he started to stalk out, the paper with the address in his hand.
"Angel!," Cordelia called after him. "You'll need back up!"
"Believe me. I can handle it."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Angel didn't stake out the place. He didn't ask around about the guy. He knew enough from the talk he'd heard in his earlier days that this guy had almost unlimited power when it came to mixing up magic potions and deadly poisons, but if he didn't know you were coming, he wasn't so tough.
'Everyone has a weakness,' Angel thought, visions of Connor filling his mind. He shut his eyes on the mental image of a cooing baby and kicked down the door.
The demon had blue skin with vivid, deep purple eyes that were quite startled at present. He was of a large frame, yet lean. His white hair was almost iridescent and hung low, about to his shoulders. But other than the strange coloring, he looked close to human. Kind of reminded Angel of one of the aliens they'd had on the original Star Trek that he watched re-runs of sometimes.
He had been sitting at a desk, like an all too human business man, going through some papers when Angel had burst in. The oddest touch of inappropriate humanity was in the old fashioned spectacles he wore on his face.
"Zaltimarrus, the legendary alchemist-apothecary... It's an honor. I almost feel like I'm meeting the Easter bunny." Zaltimarrus for his part looked confused at Angel's words and began to open his mouth to protest the intrusion and demand to know how Angel had stumbled upon his location when he was slammed back against the wall so forcefully it knocked the wind out of him.
"So, you got any of that potion you've been using on some of my friends here in L.A....cause I think I'd like to see how some of this stuff works first hand." Angel's hand gripped the demon's blue neck and squeezed like a vice as his vampire face slipped on. The same face that had made Connor laugh so...
Zaltimarrus choked, trying to get out something...anything to stop this mad vampire from killing him right then and there. "Oh you want to say something? How about telling me who hired you to take out those demons!," he demanded, letting go of the neck only to punch him in the stomach. He felt a rush, a welcome release at the violence. But it wasn't enough. 'What will ever be enough?...'
"What do you care?! You... You're a vampire!," he choked out again in amazement.
"And you're a very observant man."
Angel could see in his searching eyes that he was genuinely shocked to find that *a vampire* had tracked him down and was taking revenge on him for killing a bunch of useless do-gooder demons.
Angel's rage stemmed from not only the loss of his son but from the idea that this creature had gruesomely killed twenty-five demons that could've been Doyle. That could've been Cordelia... That could have been one more person he loved, lost. Gone forever.
Angel slammed the blue-skinned demon back against the wall again, harder this time.
"Tell me! Do you work for Wolfram and Hart?!"
Zaltimarrus looked stunned. Then laughed dryly.
"No. Though if they made me an offer..." He was slammed into the wall a third time with even more force.
"Then why kill those twenty-five?"
"Why not?," Zaltimarrus answered calmly, tilting his head at Angel. "They give all of us a bad name."
"No one paid you to do this?," Angel asked in disbelief. "I've always heard you could make a potion to any specifications, for any purpose...but only at a price..."
"Your information is correct. Unless it contributes to the cause."
"The cause. So this is all your own little 'mission'?"
Zaltimarrus smiled. "I suppose you could call it that." Some part of Angel fell at the words. He knew it was true. His passion waned a bit, knowing that Wolfram and Hart wasn't responsible. The urge for justice was no so overwhelming. And he hated himself for that. His vampire face fell away to reveal human features once again.
"Have you given the poison to anyone else? Are there any others in my town that you've already infected!?"
"No."
"There was just the twenty-five, then?"
"Yes."
"Have you been contracted by anyone else lately?"
"Why should I tell you?," he asked simply, studying Angel intently all the while.
"Because I happened to have been a legend in my time too... They called me Angelus...ever heard the name?"
"Angelus...," the demon intoned in wonder, obviously impressed.
"You may or may not have heard, I have a soul now, but I remember all I knew back then about how to torture. And believe me when I say I have equal expertise in human torture and demon."
Zaltimarrus seemed taken a back for a moment, more from the fact that Angel had a soul than by the threat.
"Can I ask you one question first?"
"You can ask."
"Why do you care about the demons? I mean, even with a soul...they might not be evil, but they aren't human? Why defend them?"
"Someone has too. And I had a friend once, who died for the very people you are murdering. I'm not letting his death be in vain."
Zaltimarrus slowly shook his head, seemingly in sympathy and understanding."You're a sad case," he stated simply, sounding genuinely sorry for the vampire before him.
"Just tell me if anyone else requested your services recently?!," Angel demanded again. Hating the sound of pity in the demon's voice. He recognized that tone all too well. He didn't want to hear it anymore. All he wanted was to move on, get this over with and know if there might still be someone he could help before it was too late.
'Like it's too late for Connor...'
The demon sighed, resigned now in some way to his fate. "You're going to kill me, either way, aren't you?"
Angel now studied the demon, intrigued with how little he seemed to care about his own demise. Angel felt a certain kinship with that. He understood as only another immortal could...the endlessness that made you almost wish that someone would make it all stop. Angel decided that he would show the demon enough respect to be straight forward. Zaltimarrus would probably know he was lying if he denied it anyway.
"Yeah," Angel stated simply, hearing the weariness creep into the sound. "All that is determined by if you answer my question is *how* I kill you."
Zaltimarrus nodded in understanding, yet still with no passion evident one way or another as to how he felt about the proposition of his imminent death. "Doesn't really matter anyway. I haven't done much business since being in L.A. Word's just now getting out to the right communities about how they can contact me."
"How do they contact you?"
"By phone."
"Phone?"
"Yes. Or E-mail. This is the twenty-first century..."
"So who has called since you've been here." "Only one call has come through. Another vampire, like yourself... One of the strangest requests I've ever gotten. And let me tell you, I've gotten some strange ones."
"What was so strange about it?," Angel asked curious and somewhat concerned as to what another vampire would want with any "strange" potions.
"He wanted a potion that would kill a vampire...in the most agonizingly painful way I could manage. Well, I thought, unusual yes...for a vamp to want to dust one of it's own yet...not unheard of. If there's one thing that I've learned in my line of work, it's that vengeance has it's place in every community."
"Then what's so strange?," Angel asked dryly, wondering if perhaps the poison had been purchased by someone in hopes of using it on him. Somewhat surprised, he found he seemed to have no more passion for the idea of saving his own life Zaltimarrus did.
"Well, I asked him who it was for, I mean who he intended to use it on...That's my policy. I know if something big's going down to get out of the premises so I won't be...well, implicated, and therefore tracked in case the client misses their mark. And this guy tells me it's for *himself*. He's going to drink the potion himself. And the oddest part, he tells me he wants it to taste and smell like vanilla."
Angel's stomach lurched then knotted in the most unexpected way at the words that now hung in the air around him. A feeling of pure dread seized him.
"I mean what kind of vampire wants to kill himself, and not only that but requests the most *painful* means possible, and wants the potion to taste like *vanilla*? I mean, you're a vampire...wouldn't blood be the desired taste for one of your kind?"
"What was the vampire's name?," Angel asked slowly, coming out of his shocked trance. But he knew. He already was certain of what the answer would be. 'No one else...'
"Said his name was Spike."
"He was calling from Sunnydale?," Angel asked on a hunch while his mind was still racing on the word 'Vanilla.' He didn't know how it had come together in his mind so quickly. How he had made the connection between the slayer he had so loved and his vampire childe, but he knew. If he had ever thought of such a connection before this moment he would have likely went to Sunnydale to kill Spike himself.
"Yes," Zaltimarrus answered after a moment of surprise. His eyes narrowed, studying the vampire before him. "You know him?" The blue skinned demon looked as if something clicked inside his mind, suddenly making some form of sense, at the possibility.
Angel didn't answer, just stood there, taking in what he'd just learned.
"How did he pay?," he finally asked, gruffly. He shook the weaker man in his grasp as he spoke for emphasis.
"He didn't pay," Zaltimarrus answered in that same deadly calm, completely unwavered by the threat of being further roughed up by the intrusive vampire. "He didn't offer and I didn't ask."
Angel's face relayed his confusion.
"Why?"
"Well, I said he was like you, did I not? It's not as if he were *fighting* the forces of good and light in this world. It was more like...he was at war with them...and trying to make peace -- his very essence screamed it. I thought him severely dangerous to the cause, to the core ideals that I've held in such a high esteem throughout my existence."
These words were spoken thoughtfully and disturbed Angel more than he wanted to admit, even to himself. More disturbing however was the fact that Angel was feeling more now than he had since right before Connor had slipped away into the portal, lost forever to him.
"So this contributed to your 'cause'." Angel could not disguise the disgust in his voice...only the disgust was not just for Zaltimarrus, but for himself. Another reaction that caught him off guard...
"Exactly. Now you're catching on," Zaltimarrus sounded truly pleased. "I mean, he was...*disturbing* to me. And I don't find much disturbing. In fact, I thought certain *he* was the vampire with a soul. I mean, I'd heard that there is in this world only one vampire cursed with a soul...and I'm taking it now that vampire is you. That being said...he was even more dangerous than I'd thought."
Angel's brow furrowed at this as he considered what had just been said.
"What do you mean? What makes you think he was good just because he wanted to die?" Angel's expression grew darker by the second as his voice grew more desperate and seeking. He didn't want this to be true. 'It can't be true...'
"Oh, it wasn't just because he wanted to die. It was in the way he spoke. There was definite regret, for ... well, I'm not sure what. And he kept making comments about how 'wrong' he was...about how 'he'd gone too far this time' about how he didn't deserve to live and no matter how good he tried to be he'd always be just a soul-less thing, a former murderer. He said something about not regaining what you've lost."
The words struck as a physical blow. Both Angel and the demon who had constructed his childe's doom were quiet a moment, pensive.
"Does he have it?," Angel's voice was grave. "When did he call?"
"Oh, let's see...it was Tuesday night he called in the order... I had it ready the next day and sent it out to him...he would have gotten it earlier today, actually. I guarantee service within 48 hours, you know. Unless there are special circumstances. But with him...I had what I needed on hand, so it was no trouble."
"How? Teleport?," Angel inquired, not really caring, his mind fuzzy with other concerns, other memories of days long passed.
"No. I use UPS. Next Day Air, if need be."
"UPS...," Angel echoed with bewilderment.
'William, what have you done now?...'
He still had Zaltimarrus against the wall, a hand at his throat, but for a moment the demon was forgotten. Until he began to speak again, words slow and measured with his contemplation, his eyes locked in the faraway look of remembrance, continuing his earlier thought.
"His voice... it was full of ... pain and self-loathing. Humanity, too. And worst of all, love... So full of love... It was disgusting, really ... interesting, but disgusting," the demon now smiled again. "It's a comfort to know that before I die that I've gotten rid of *him* at least. I never would've thought *a vampire* would be one of my crowning achievements...," he studied Angel's face a moment and his smile became even more hideously broad. "You know, you look like you might be interested in some of that potion too... I could make you up a batch, before you kill me."
He laughed then...a low chuckle that seemed to rise from deep within him.
Which was followed up a few seconds later by the sharp crack of his neck being broken.
Angel stood there, the lifeless body of the once legendary Zaltimarrus at his feet. He was stunned. Not only by the realization of what Spike intended and by the words of the once legendary alchemist-apothecary, but by the feelings the entire encounter had stirred.
A thought surfaced that shocked him, simply because it had never occurred to him in the past, during all those years he had miserably sought out some form of redemption for the countless crimes against humanity he had committed in his time as Angelus... Those who had suffered most at his hands, no doubt would have to be those who were made immortal because of him. That would include Spike.
Yet, he had never made any effort to make things right with Spike or Dru or James for that matter... How could he...they were still evil, soul-less vampires after all? But he found, that explanation gave him, inexplicably, no comfort.
And now, Spike wanted to die. He was full of love and regret and humanity...and he still didn't have a soul... Somehow all the words that the demon had spoken about his childe made perfect sense to him. It ran true, despite how much his mind *wanted* to find a contradiction for it. Another notion struck him then. A thought that went a lot further in explaining all the feelings he had known since the moment Zaltimarrus had told him about the strange vampire with a death wish.
'Connor, my son...is gone. The closest thing I have to a son now...have ever had other than for those all too short months of having Connor...is Spike...William.' Angel remembered William. Vividly and quite against his will, he remembered.
Even when he had been fully turned William's transition had been...difficult. Something that Angelus had found very entertaining and pleasurable at the time.
Spike had of course, later become a pain once he accepted what he was, but until that point... He had been...different. Different from any of the others. Darla even thought so. Dru had been a saint, or fairly close to it and she had transitioned into it more smoothly than he had. That had always been a mystery to him. Mysteries annoyed Angelus, but he did not mind puzzling them out. Angel had pushed all thought of the mysteries of Spike away upon receipt of his soul.
Spike, even once he had became the killer that he was, the slayer of slayers...still he was different. He still maintained this warped sense of humanity. That's why Angelus hated him...that's why Angel hated him too, above any other more justified reason, he realized. Spike was more human in many ways, than he had ever been -- even with the soul.
'The father will kill the son.'
The prophecy hadn't been true for Connor but it might as well have been for William. Angelus had killed everything that the boy was. The tortured poet. The only one he'd ever known that fought what he had become. Of course, not for long...Angelus hadn't allowed that. The things he had done to him, to William, to Spike.
Spike, the vampire, would never have been in this existence at all had it not been for him. Drusilla had brought him to Angelus after all. She had drained him almost to the point of death ... but his Dru was a good little daddy's girl. She wanted his permission. She wouldn't want daddy cross with her...at least not in the way that would make him ignore her instead of chain her up.
He had approved her playmate/companion without really thinking about it. He wanted her to have someone to entertain her, to watch after her, he didn't care about anything else. He loved Dru, of course...in his own way. He was obsessed with her. But at times, she got to be a bit much. Spike, as it turned out, had been just what she needed. He took care of her. Someone needed to take care of her, all the time. Even when he was at odds with himself he had done so willingly. And he had been there for her when things got out of control. When she'd had flashbacks to the night her family was killed or when she began ranting and crying about the stars and what they were saying to her.
They both turned him...both Drusilla and himself. But Angelus had been the initiator, being the head of their little family. At least from Dru's point of view.
He had truly been the one to damn William. It was his blood that cursed him with this endlessness... This pain...
Angelus had been the one to torture him too, mentally, physically...in every creative way he could think of, to convert Spike into the demon he had become...William the Bloody, the notorious slayer of slayers, known for torturing his victims with railroad spikes. Oh yes, Angelus had been a dedicated and, in fact, ruthless teacher... Yet, as much progress as he had made, he had not been entirely successful.
Angel started back to his car as quickly as he could, having a horrible sinking feeling in his chest, a feeling that told him these revelations were being made too late. Taking out his cell phone he punched in the number to the Hyperion. Cordelia picked up on the first ring, desperate, as they all had been, for some distraction.
"Angel Investigations! We help the helple-"
"Cordelia, I'm not going to be back tonight."
"What? Angel, what's wrong?!," Cordy's voice was full of concern for him. But he knew, he didn't have time to explain...she would never understand it anyway. She would just think Connor's loss had driven him completely mad. And he wouldn't blame her. In fact, he was beginning to wonder if that was happening himself.
"Nothing...Don't worry. Just...someone needs my help. And I owe him the favor."
"But Angel, who-" Cordelia heard a click and he was gone.
To Be Continued...
Author: Juliet DeMarcus
Rating: R
Spoilers: Buffy up to and including "Entropy." Angel up to and including "Double or Nothing."
Summary: Will the events of "Entropy" lead to a tragedy of near-Shakespearean proportions?
Disclaimer: "Buffy the Vampire Slayer" and "Angel" are not mine. (But I can dream, right?) I'm not making any money, so don't sue me.
Thursday - Dusk
"Angel?," Cordy stuck her head tentatively into Connor's room...or what *was* Connor's room...
It was going to take her awhile to get used to that.
Connor was gone.
The words repeated themselves over and over as she took in the all too familiar sight of Angel just standing in that room, looking around helplessly.
Connor, the sweet little baby boy they had all grown to love so much, so quickly -- the miracle child of two vampires, was lost forever. Sent to a hell dimension that could never be opened from this side again.
A hell dimension that he probably didn't survive even one day in... 'At least, he's not suffering...," Cordy tried miserably to comfort herself. 'Not suffering like the rest of us... Like Angel...' Her heart cried at the sight of him, at the light that had died in his eyes. Connor had been so good for him. Angel had a purpose, he had a life...he had a future. Now what did he have?
'Us. That's what he has!,' her thoughts took on a distinctly Cordelia-like determination as she marched over to where Angel stood, silent, having never even turned to look at her when she called for him. 'And we are going to bring him out of this. He's been through horrible things before, and he came out of it without anyone really... Now he has all of us... We're his family and we'll bring him back!'
"Angel?," she tried again gently, coming up beside him. He still did not look over at her.
"Yeah?" His voice sounded flat. Dead.
"We have a case."
He turned to her at that, his eyes impassively studying the mixture of concern and hopefulness which displayed itself in her features.
Cordelia attempted no more than a small smile in return. There was no reason to pretend. She was well aware that he knew she was worried, that she was desperate to get him out of that room -- even if it were just for a little while. No use in hiding it. They'd been through too much together for that.
His looking at her was a pleasant surprise. She had fully expected him to either tell her that the others could deal with it or just say nothing.
"Great. What do we have?"
Cordelia was lost for a moment. Staring at his face -- the subtle changes she saw there and the feelings they created in her. Muted for a moment by the pain that so clearly shone through his eyes.
He was so transparent. It worried her sometimes. That one day one of his enemies would use against him that pain they could read so easily. And they would destroy him, completely. He was already destroyed, in many ways. He'd been through so much, just within the space of one year. She wondered if he'd ever be the same again, as she felt an irresistible urge within her growing stronger, second by second... She felt... She wanted... She felt her arm begin to move slowly, her hand ready to reach out and touch his face... 'His beautiful face...' She froze. 'What?...What am I...,' but her self examination was put on hold as she realized he was staring at her, curiously, waiting. 'Oh right, the case!' She gratefully came back to the full awareness that she had started out with. That they had a case, a rather urgent one in fact, to talk about.
She immediately shook off the...whatever it was, and got back to business while that was still an option. She didn't want to lose him again. Go back to that point where he didn't even answer them for hours.
"Well, do you remember all those demons that Doyle died for?"
Angel blinked. That was an unexpected shock to the system. Cordelia had this unceremonious, abrupt way of putting things that sometimes left him breathless.
This time was no exception.
Doyle... The pain seemed fresh again in light of Angel's most recent loss. So much loss. He lost everyone. Always lost... And eventually, even those he still had by his side now would be lost. One by one...or maybe all together in some horrible tragedy. Gunn, Lorn, Fred...Cordelia. Angel swallowed hard. No, he wasn't going to think about that. He still had not spoken so Cordy had taken it upon herself to continue filling him in with the details.
"Right. Of course you remember...," she looked down a moment. Feeling guilty for both the way she had said it and for having to bring up such a dark matter on an already dark day. Angel studied her reaction, her ackwardness, and wondered if somehow she had sensed his thoughts. "Anyway, one of them contacted us, Lewin... I don't know if you remember him or...," she waited but Angel didn't respond. "Well, anyway, he says that a lot of demons...you know harmless, *good* guys like him and like...Doyle was, and like...I am now I guess," Cordelia stopped a moment, considering, then went on, "are just dropping like flies of some kind of mysterious illness that he thinks is being brought on by some kind of potion."
Angel looked interested. "Do they have any suspects?"
"Can you guess?"
"Not..."
"Nope. Can you believe there's actually one great evil a brewin' that Wolfram and Hart *doesn't* have a hand in!"
"No," Angel stated flatly, looking forward again. That cold distance was beginning to take him over again, she could see it. 'Real bright Cordelia, bring up Wolfram and Hart in a round about way...that should put him in a great state of mind!,' she thought furiously to herself. She rushed back into her explanation, hoping that something in it would snag him back out of the dark quiet that he went into, nearly all the time now.
"Actually, their suspect is some big-wig magic demon guy who is hell bent on wiping out all the demons who actually try to be decent members of society. *And* as a fairly new addition into the demon community, can I just say that I'm very disturbed by this holocaust of all the 'do-gooder demons'?"
"Anything else?," Angel inquired, still looking forward, but obviously still with her too which caused Cordelia to let out a breath she'd been holding. She tried to let it out slowly, hoping he wouldn't notice the evidence of her anxiety. Though no one could have ever known by looking at him, he heard the long, slow exale of relief. And he understood.
"Yeah. Well, they said that he is the last remaining member of some ancient race of demons that went extinct a long time ago."
Angel digested this piece of news a moment before responding thoughtfully.
"His name wouldn't happen to be Zaltimarrus?"
"Yeah,...." Cordelia glanced at the paper she was holding, then back up at Angel with confusion. "How'd you know?"
"Heard about him in my days as Angelus. Actually, thought he was a myth. Apparently not the easiest guy to track down."
"Well, they've managed to find him." She handed him the paper. Angel scanned the contents quickly.
"So, they don't need me to find the guy...they need me to..."
"Stop him."
"Kill him." Angel spoke at the same time.
"Yep, you are the champion," Cordelia answered, sounding so chipper in an attempt to reverse the dark mood of the room that she almost grimaced.
"Sounds like fun," Angel replied, still no feeling to be heard in his monotone. With that he started to stalk out, the paper with the address in his hand.
"Angel!," Cordelia called after him. "You'll need back up!"
"Believe me. I can handle it."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Angel didn't stake out the place. He didn't ask around about the guy. He knew enough from the talk he'd heard in his earlier days that this guy had almost unlimited power when it came to mixing up magic potions and deadly poisons, but if he didn't know you were coming, he wasn't so tough.
'Everyone has a weakness,' Angel thought, visions of Connor filling his mind. He shut his eyes on the mental image of a cooing baby and kicked down the door.
The demon had blue skin with vivid, deep purple eyes that were quite startled at present. He was of a large frame, yet lean. His white hair was almost iridescent and hung low, about to his shoulders. But other than the strange coloring, he looked close to human. Kind of reminded Angel of one of the aliens they'd had on the original Star Trek that he watched re-runs of sometimes.
He had been sitting at a desk, like an all too human business man, going through some papers when Angel had burst in. The oddest touch of inappropriate humanity was in the old fashioned spectacles he wore on his face.
"Zaltimarrus, the legendary alchemist-apothecary... It's an honor. I almost feel like I'm meeting the Easter bunny." Zaltimarrus for his part looked confused at Angel's words and began to open his mouth to protest the intrusion and demand to know how Angel had stumbled upon his location when he was slammed back against the wall so forcefully it knocked the wind out of him.
"So, you got any of that potion you've been using on some of my friends here in L.A....cause I think I'd like to see how some of this stuff works first hand." Angel's hand gripped the demon's blue neck and squeezed like a vice as his vampire face slipped on. The same face that had made Connor laugh so...
Zaltimarrus choked, trying to get out something...anything to stop this mad vampire from killing him right then and there. "Oh you want to say something? How about telling me who hired you to take out those demons!," he demanded, letting go of the neck only to punch him in the stomach. He felt a rush, a welcome release at the violence. But it wasn't enough. 'What will ever be enough?...'
"What do you care?! You... You're a vampire!," he choked out again in amazement.
"And you're a very observant man."
Angel could see in his searching eyes that he was genuinely shocked to find that *a vampire* had tracked him down and was taking revenge on him for killing a bunch of useless do-gooder demons.
Angel's rage stemmed from not only the loss of his son but from the idea that this creature had gruesomely killed twenty-five demons that could've been Doyle. That could've been Cordelia... That could have been one more person he loved, lost. Gone forever.
Angel slammed the blue-skinned demon back against the wall again, harder this time.
"Tell me! Do you work for Wolfram and Hart?!"
Zaltimarrus looked stunned. Then laughed dryly.
"No. Though if they made me an offer..." He was slammed into the wall a third time with even more force.
"Then why kill those twenty-five?"
"Why not?," Zaltimarrus answered calmly, tilting his head at Angel. "They give all of us a bad name."
"No one paid you to do this?," Angel asked in disbelief. "I've always heard you could make a potion to any specifications, for any purpose...but only at a price..."
"Your information is correct. Unless it contributes to the cause."
"The cause. So this is all your own little 'mission'?"
Zaltimarrus smiled. "I suppose you could call it that." Some part of Angel fell at the words. He knew it was true. His passion waned a bit, knowing that Wolfram and Hart wasn't responsible. The urge for justice was no so overwhelming. And he hated himself for that. His vampire face fell away to reveal human features once again.
"Have you given the poison to anyone else? Are there any others in my town that you've already infected!?"
"No."
"There was just the twenty-five, then?"
"Yes."
"Have you been contracted by anyone else lately?"
"Why should I tell you?," he asked simply, studying Angel intently all the while.
"Because I happened to have been a legend in my time too... They called me Angelus...ever heard the name?"
"Angelus...," the demon intoned in wonder, obviously impressed.
"You may or may not have heard, I have a soul now, but I remember all I knew back then about how to torture. And believe me when I say I have equal expertise in human torture and demon."
Zaltimarrus seemed taken a back for a moment, more from the fact that Angel had a soul than by the threat.
"Can I ask you one question first?"
"You can ask."
"Why do you care about the demons? I mean, even with a soul...they might not be evil, but they aren't human? Why defend them?"
"Someone has too. And I had a friend once, who died for the very people you are murdering. I'm not letting his death be in vain."
Zaltimarrus slowly shook his head, seemingly in sympathy and understanding."You're a sad case," he stated simply, sounding genuinely sorry for the vampire before him.
"Just tell me if anyone else requested your services recently?!," Angel demanded again. Hating the sound of pity in the demon's voice. He recognized that tone all too well. He didn't want to hear it anymore. All he wanted was to move on, get this over with and know if there might still be someone he could help before it was too late.
'Like it's too late for Connor...'
The demon sighed, resigned now in some way to his fate. "You're going to kill me, either way, aren't you?"
Angel now studied the demon, intrigued with how little he seemed to care about his own demise. Angel felt a certain kinship with that. He understood as only another immortal could...the endlessness that made you almost wish that someone would make it all stop. Angel decided that he would show the demon enough respect to be straight forward. Zaltimarrus would probably know he was lying if he denied it anyway.
"Yeah," Angel stated simply, hearing the weariness creep into the sound. "All that is determined by if you answer my question is *how* I kill you."
Zaltimarrus nodded in understanding, yet still with no passion evident one way or another as to how he felt about the proposition of his imminent death. "Doesn't really matter anyway. I haven't done much business since being in L.A. Word's just now getting out to the right communities about how they can contact me."
"How do they contact you?"
"By phone."
"Phone?"
"Yes. Or E-mail. This is the twenty-first century..."
"So who has called since you've been here." "Only one call has come through. Another vampire, like yourself... One of the strangest requests I've ever gotten. And let me tell you, I've gotten some strange ones."
"What was so strange about it?," Angel asked curious and somewhat concerned as to what another vampire would want with any "strange" potions.
"He wanted a potion that would kill a vampire...in the most agonizingly painful way I could manage. Well, I thought, unusual yes...for a vamp to want to dust one of it's own yet...not unheard of. If there's one thing that I've learned in my line of work, it's that vengeance has it's place in every community."
"Then what's so strange?," Angel asked dryly, wondering if perhaps the poison had been purchased by someone in hopes of using it on him. Somewhat surprised, he found he seemed to have no more passion for the idea of saving his own life Zaltimarrus did.
"Well, I asked him who it was for, I mean who he intended to use it on...That's my policy. I know if something big's going down to get out of the premises so I won't be...well, implicated, and therefore tracked in case the client misses their mark. And this guy tells me it's for *himself*. He's going to drink the potion himself. And the oddest part, he tells me he wants it to taste and smell like vanilla."
Angel's stomach lurched then knotted in the most unexpected way at the words that now hung in the air around him. A feeling of pure dread seized him.
"I mean what kind of vampire wants to kill himself, and not only that but requests the most *painful* means possible, and wants the potion to taste like *vanilla*? I mean, you're a vampire...wouldn't blood be the desired taste for one of your kind?"
"What was the vampire's name?," Angel asked slowly, coming out of his shocked trance. But he knew. He already was certain of what the answer would be. 'No one else...'
"Said his name was Spike."
"He was calling from Sunnydale?," Angel asked on a hunch while his mind was still racing on the word 'Vanilla.' He didn't know how it had come together in his mind so quickly. How he had made the connection between the slayer he had so loved and his vampire childe, but he knew. If he had ever thought of such a connection before this moment he would have likely went to Sunnydale to kill Spike himself.
"Yes," Zaltimarrus answered after a moment of surprise. His eyes narrowed, studying the vampire before him. "You know him?" The blue skinned demon looked as if something clicked inside his mind, suddenly making some form of sense, at the possibility.
Angel didn't answer, just stood there, taking in what he'd just learned.
"How did he pay?," he finally asked, gruffly. He shook the weaker man in his grasp as he spoke for emphasis.
"He didn't pay," Zaltimarrus answered in that same deadly calm, completely unwavered by the threat of being further roughed up by the intrusive vampire. "He didn't offer and I didn't ask."
Angel's face relayed his confusion.
"Why?"
"Well, I said he was like you, did I not? It's not as if he were *fighting* the forces of good and light in this world. It was more like...he was at war with them...and trying to make peace -- his very essence screamed it. I thought him severely dangerous to the cause, to the core ideals that I've held in such a high esteem throughout my existence."
These words were spoken thoughtfully and disturbed Angel more than he wanted to admit, even to himself. More disturbing however was the fact that Angel was feeling more now than he had since right before Connor had slipped away into the portal, lost forever to him.
"So this contributed to your 'cause'." Angel could not disguise the disgust in his voice...only the disgust was not just for Zaltimarrus, but for himself. Another reaction that caught him off guard...
"Exactly. Now you're catching on," Zaltimarrus sounded truly pleased. "I mean, he was...*disturbing* to me. And I don't find much disturbing. In fact, I thought certain *he* was the vampire with a soul. I mean, I'd heard that there is in this world only one vampire cursed with a soul...and I'm taking it now that vampire is you. That being said...he was even more dangerous than I'd thought."
Angel's brow furrowed at this as he considered what had just been said.
"What do you mean? What makes you think he was good just because he wanted to die?" Angel's expression grew darker by the second as his voice grew more desperate and seeking. He didn't want this to be true. 'It can't be true...'
"Oh, it wasn't just because he wanted to die. It was in the way he spoke. There was definite regret, for ... well, I'm not sure what. And he kept making comments about how 'wrong' he was...about how 'he'd gone too far this time' about how he didn't deserve to live and no matter how good he tried to be he'd always be just a soul-less thing, a former murderer. He said something about not regaining what you've lost."
The words struck as a physical blow. Both Angel and the demon who had constructed his childe's doom were quiet a moment, pensive.
"Does he have it?," Angel's voice was grave. "When did he call?"
"Oh, let's see...it was Tuesday night he called in the order... I had it ready the next day and sent it out to him...he would have gotten it earlier today, actually. I guarantee service within 48 hours, you know. Unless there are special circumstances. But with him...I had what I needed on hand, so it was no trouble."
"How? Teleport?," Angel inquired, not really caring, his mind fuzzy with other concerns, other memories of days long passed.
"No. I use UPS. Next Day Air, if need be."
"UPS...," Angel echoed with bewilderment.
'William, what have you done now?...'
He still had Zaltimarrus against the wall, a hand at his throat, but for a moment the demon was forgotten. Until he began to speak again, words slow and measured with his contemplation, his eyes locked in the faraway look of remembrance, continuing his earlier thought.
"His voice... it was full of ... pain and self-loathing. Humanity, too. And worst of all, love... So full of love... It was disgusting, really ... interesting, but disgusting," the demon now smiled again. "It's a comfort to know that before I die that I've gotten rid of *him* at least. I never would've thought *a vampire* would be one of my crowning achievements...," he studied Angel's face a moment and his smile became even more hideously broad. "You know, you look like you might be interested in some of that potion too... I could make you up a batch, before you kill me."
He laughed then...a low chuckle that seemed to rise from deep within him.
Which was followed up a few seconds later by the sharp crack of his neck being broken.
Angel stood there, the lifeless body of the once legendary Zaltimarrus at his feet. He was stunned. Not only by the realization of what Spike intended and by the words of the once legendary alchemist-apothecary, but by the feelings the entire encounter had stirred.
A thought surfaced that shocked him, simply because it had never occurred to him in the past, during all those years he had miserably sought out some form of redemption for the countless crimes against humanity he had committed in his time as Angelus... Those who had suffered most at his hands, no doubt would have to be those who were made immortal because of him. That would include Spike.
Yet, he had never made any effort to make things right with Spike or Dru or James for that matter... How could he...they were still evil, soul-less vampires after all? But he found, that explanation gave him, inexplicably, no comfort.
And now, Spike wanted to die. He was full of love and regret and humanity...and he still didn't have a soul... Somehow all the words that the demon had spoken about his childe made perfect sense to him. It ran true, despite how much his mind *wanted* to find a contradiction for it. Another notion struck him then. A thought that went a lot further in explaining all the feelings he had known since the moment Zaltimarrus had told him about the strange vampire with a death wish.
'Connor, my son...is gone. The closest thing I have to a son now...have ever had other than for those all too short months of having Connor...is Spike...William.' Angel remembered William. Vividly and quite against his will, he remembered.
Even when he had been fully turned William's transition had been...difficult. Something that Angelus had found very entertaining and pleasurable at the time.
Spike had of course, later become a pain once he accepted what he was, but until that point... He had been...different. Different from any of the others. Darla even thought so. Dru had been a saint, or fairly close to it and she had transitioned into it more smoothly than he had. That had always been a mystery to him. Mysteries annoyed Angelus, but he did not mind puzzling them out. Angel had pushed all thought of the mysteries of Spike away upon receipt of his soul.
Spike, even once he had became the killer that he was, the slayer of slayers...still he was different. He still maintained this warped sense of humanity. That's why Angelus hated him...that's why Angel hated him too, above any other more justified reason, he realized. Spike was more human in many ways, than he had ever been -- even with the soul.
'The father will kill the son.'
The prophecy hadn't been true for Connor but it might as well have been for William. Angelus had killed everything that the boy was. The tortured poet. The only one he'd ever known that fought what he had become. Of course, not for long...Angelus hadn't allowed that. The things he had done to him, to William, to Spike.
Spike, the vampire, would never have been in this existence at all had it not been for him. Drusilla had brought him to Angelus after all. She had drained him almost to the point of death ... but his Dru was a good little daddy's girl. She wanted his permission. She wouldn't want daddy cross with her...at least not in the way that would make him ignore her instead of chain her up.
He had approved her playmate/companion without really thinking about it. He wanted her to have someone to entertain her, to watch after her, he didn't care about anything else. He loved Dru, of course...in his own way. He was obsessed with her. But at times, she got to be a bit much. Spike, as it turned out, had been just what she needed. He took care of her. Someone needed to take care of her, all the time. Even when he was at odds with himself he had done so willingly. And he had been there for her when things got out of control. When she'd had flashbacks to the night her family was killed or when she began ranting and crying about the stars and what they were saying to her.
They both turned him...both Drusilla and himself. But Angelus had been the initiator, being the head of their little family. At least from Dru's point of view.
He had truly been the one to damn William. It was his blood that cursed him with this endlessness... This pain...
Angelus had been the one to torture him too, mentally, physically...in every creative way he could think of, to convert Spike into the demon he had become...William the Bloody, the notorious slayer of slayers, known for torturing his victims with railroad spikes. Oh yes, Angelus had been a dedicated and, in fact, ruthless teacher... Yet, as much progress as he had made, he had not been entirely successful.
Angel started back to his car as quickly as he could, having a horrible sinking feeling in his chest, a feeling that told him these revelations were being made too late. Taking out his cell phone he punched in the number to the Hyperion. Cordelia picked up on the first ring, desperate, as they all had been, for some distraction.
"Angel Investigations! We help the helple-"
"Cordelia, I'm not going to be back tonight."
"What? Angel, what's wrong?!," Cordy's voice was full of concern for him. But he knew, he didn't have time to explain...she would never understand it anyway. She would just think Connor's loss had driven him completely mad. And he wouldn't blame her. In fact, he was beginning to wonder if that was happening himself.
"Nothing...Don't worry. Just...someone needs my help. And I owe him the favor."
"But Angel, who-" Cordelia heard a click and he was gone.
To Be Continued...
