Witches, Vampires, and Invisible Men Part 3
Author: Tazzy (jellicalat1@yahoo.com
Rating NC-17
Disclaimer: Don't own 'em wish I did
Author's notes: I don't know when Cordelia cut her hair so it's still long like it was in high school in my story. Also, from this point on, a male/male relationship is going to develop so if you don't enjoy reading anything like that, you don't have to read any more of this story. See part one for the rest
The first sign that something was wrong was the shouting that slipped past the doors into the lobby, and the second was the wide-eyed blond woman who burst through those same doors a few seconds later as if Satan himself was chasing her. By that time, Angel had already grabbed his sword and was heading outside with a well armed Gunn, Wesley, and Cordelia as Spike and Willow followed curious, hoping to help if they could.
"Fangs...glowing eyes...my friends," gasped the blond as she tried to catch her breath. There was a metallic shimmer in her hair and a little caught in the folds of her clothes, as if she had walked in out of a misting rain.
"Willow, stay here with her," ordered Angel, not bothering to glance back at the others as he made his way past the blond. A metallic smell teased his nose, like damp iron but he ignored it for now. "Cordy, get the first aid kit ready." Before either could voice their objections at being left behind, he was out the door and already moving towards the vampire standing over the crumpled figure laying on the ground. The vampire, obviously a fledgling not even a month old, seemed unwilling to draw any closer to the form on the ground, but the bloodlust that controlled him was not about to let a potential meal alone. Without even hesitating, the heavy sword swung out and cleanly removed the fledgling's head from the rest of his body seconds before it dissolved into dust.
He knelt next to the unconscious form long enough to discover that the man was going to live, despite the strange silver dust that lay scattered on his clothing and the ground and the strong metallic scent that hovered over him like a blanket. He ordered Wesley to guard the unconscious man as the dark vampire headed towards the sounds of a fight just around the corner. There, he found about eight more fledglings surrounding a stocky man who was somehow holding his own, and Spike snorted in disgust.
"Fledges, every one of 'em," growled the peroxide blond before glancing up at Angel. "Want me to handle this, Peaches?"
A smirk crossed Angel's face. "Actually, I thought we'd teach them some manners first," he remarked, sounding like his demonic counterpart.
Spike nodded once before moving forward. "All right, enough of that!" he growled, allowing the power that marked him as a Master vampire to emerge. The vampires froze at the sound of his voice and turned to face him, their true faces visible. Angel also let his own powers to emerge, alerting the fledges that they had two Masters to face instead of just one.
"Who are you and what do you want here?" demanded one of the vampires, stepping away from the short man they had trapped against the building.
Sighing dramatically, Spike rolled his eyes and glanced back at Angel. "Youth today has no respect for their elders," he stated before a vicious grin crossed his face. "The name's Spike, an' what I want is to know why you're huntin' in Angelus's territory without his permission."
The fledges exchanged confused looks, and Angel's smirk grew. "Spike, m'boy, find out which of these idiots is the leader and dust the rest," he ordered, casually resting the sword tip on the ground.
"Right." Spike fixed cool blue eyes on the group. "Which of you blokes is the leader?" One vampire with a scar running down the side of his face stepped forward, and the peroxide blond nodded as he approached the fledgling. Casually, he decked the scarred vampire and after grabbing him by the scruff of the neck, returned to Angel's side.
With the same casual indifference that Spike displayed, the dark vampire waded through the cluster of vampires and grabbed the human's arm before removing him from the vampires. He nodded once at Gunn who began firing arrows at the vampires. In a few minutes, all the vampires were one large pile of dust on the sidewalk, and Angel turned to inspect the man. He was short, but stocky and other than a slightly rumpled suit, didn't look like he was involved in the confrontation at all.
"Are you all right?" inquired Angel, unable to spot any injuries.
The man nodded. "I'm fine, but my partner ran that away," he replied, gesturing towards the lobby. "I gotta make sure he's okay." He started towards the lobby, not bothering to see if any one else was following him or not and Angel fell in beside him. When Wesley came within sight, he heard the man's heartbeat speed up and realized that he was staring at the still form beside the ex-Watcher.
"Damn!" The man raced to the unconscious man's side and knelt down next to him, gently turning him over. The silver dust shimmered as it fell from the man's hair and clothes. "Darien, you okay?"
Angel knelt next to the two and handed his sword to Wesley before scooping up Darien, cradling the lanky man in his arms. "Let's get inside where he can be examined," suggested the dark vampire before glancing back at the peroxide blond vampire. "Spike, bring our guest with you."
Suddenly the stocky man was standing in front of Angel with a determined look on his face. "Why should I trust you?" he demanded, his eyes flickering around to include everyone in his accusation. "How do I know you're not in with whatever those things were?"
"They were vampires, pet," drawled Spike, carrying the unconscious fledgling over his shoulder. He jerked his head in Angel's direction. "An' even the Great Poof himself wouldn't go around and arrange for fledges this stupid ta attack anyone near his place." He brushed past the man and continued on into the hotel, leaving a puzzled Angel facing the man.
"We only want to help you and your partner," the dark vampire stated in a soothing voice. "Right now the best thing for him is to get inside where any injuries other than the bump on his head can be discovered." As he talked, he noticed that the metallic scent surrounding Darien was growing stronger as if he was slowly turning into iron. He slipped around the stocky man and entered the lobby to find the blond woman waiting anxiously.
As soon as he had placed the lanky man on one of the lounges, she was next to him, perched on the small cushion available as she checked the man for any injuries. She transformed from a concerned friend to a professional in the space of a few steps and Angel stood behind the lounge, silently watching her work. The metallic smell was so strong now, he was sure it had to be noticed by the humans, but the woman didn't say anything about it, just continued checking him for injuries other than the bump on his head. When she went to check his eyes, Angel caught a glimpse of solid red before she grabbed the limp arm, flipping his watchband down to reveal a nearly red tattoo of a snake eating it's own tail.
"Damn it, Darien," she swore before glancing around. "Hobbes, I need my bag, now!"
The stocky man grabbed her purse where it had been dropped near the door during her wild entrance and brought it over to her. "What's wrong, Claire?" he demanded, his voice strained with concern. He caught sight of the tattoo as she filled a syringe with a strange blue liquid and swore, colorfully.
mused Angel, a frown crossing his face as he stared down at Darien. A line of pain creased the handsome face almost as if he was silently fighting something in his sleep, and as Claire injected the blue liquid into his system, his face relaxed as if whatever caused him agony had ceased. Quickly, Angel glanced at the woman to find her gazing at a now green tattoo.
"Oi, Peaches." Spike's voice cut through his silent musings and he looked up to find the peroxide blond resting a booted foot on the fledgling's throat. He had dumped the younger vampire on the floor, and was now standing there with an indifferent look on his face. "Yer guest is about to wake up."
He walked over to the fledgling and Spike moved back, removing his foot from the younger vampire's neck to allow Angel room to lean down and wrap his hand around the pale neck. The vampire was starting to stir when Angel lifted him off the floor to hang from his grip with the toes of his scuffed tennis shoes swaying almost a foot above the floor.
"What were you sent to do here?" demanded the dark vampire, tightening his grip slightly as startled gold eyes snapped open to stare into a determined brown gaze. "Who sent you?"
"W..we were told to come here and kill the humans," stuttered the vampire, his pale complexion turning an interesting gray as a deep growl rumbled through the air. A hand landed on Angel's shoulder and he whipped his head around to stare into Spike's unflinching gaze.
"He can hardly answer our questions if he's dust, pet," soothed the bleached blond, and with a start, Angel realized that he was nearly crushing the vampire's throat. He relaxed his grip and instinct drove the vampire to gasp for unneeded breath. Spike turned his attention to the unfortunate vampire. "Who sent you?"
The vampire shrugged, carelessly. "Some guy claiming to be from some group called Wolfman and Hart," he replied, confidant that he'd get out of this confrontation with his skin intact.
"Wolfram and Hart?" There was a deadly growl in Angel's voice again, but the vampire hanging from his grip didn't notice it as he nodded enthusiastically. Snarling, Angel nonchalantly snapped the vampire's neck in a smooth motion before dropping the body on the floor. In seconds, a pile of dust was on the floor and Angel managed to reign in his temper before turning to face the strangers in his lobby.
"So, how much of a coincidence is it that you three arrived here just as a group of fledgling vampires also arrived to cause trouble?" inquired Angel, folding his arms across his chest. The woman, Claire, and the stocky man, Hobbes, exchanged glances across Darien's unmoving form that seemed to be a silent communications between them, but other than a slight wariness in their gazes, Angel couldn't read much of anything. Claire's hand lightly brushed across the unconscious man's forehead, moving a lock of brown hair off the smooth skin and a wave of jealousy surged through the dark vampire.
he thought, confused. Just then, his demon began bombarding him with images of the last time a warm male had been in his bed; a dark haired man with piercing blue eyes who was able to love as fiercely as the vampire before Angelus had changed him forever into the bleached blond that was standing protectively next to the redhead.
whispered Angelus in a seductive tone. Angel tried to ignore the murmured voice, but a soft, pain filled groan announced Darien's return to consciousness.
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The pain that radiated through his head wasn't the same pain that announced the onset of quicksilver madness, but that didn't mean it hurt any less. A groan escaped from Darien as full consciousness slammed onto him, nearly smothering him as bruises that had developed since he had been thrown into the wall made themselves known, and he squeezed his eyes closed as he desperately tried to ignore the pain.
A hand on his shoulder surprised him and his eyes flew open to gaze at the concerned faces of Hobbes and Claire. "Did ya find out what Chrysalis wants with those guys?" asked Darien, trying to stop his head from pounding. A strange feeling at the base of his skull was distracting him, like a persistent tingle, and he reached up a hand to rub the spot. For some reason, he was not surprised to feel the smooth scar that marked the spot where the gland had been implanted and he blinked at the frustrated expression that crossed Hobbes's face. "What? Did something happen?"
Hobbes snorted, softly. "Only you blurting out our mission here," he murmured, raising his head to focus on something out of Darien's sight. Darien frowned and carefully raised his head, wincing at the pain that arced through his skull at the slight movement, and groaned when he saw the four people from the folder and two strangers.
"Aw crap," he groaned, before dropping his head back to the cushion and covering his face with his hands. "Sorry, Hobbes."
"What is Chrysalis and why would these dudes be interested in us?" asked a voice that was straight from the streets.
Darien, dropped his hands to his sides and carefully sat up, painfully aware of bruises as his back complained about the movement. "Chrysalis is a group that wants to basically take over the government and replace it with their own version," explained the lanky man as Claire calmly stood up and moved off to one side. "As for why they'd be interested in you, we were hoping you could tell us." He focused on the black man whom he remembered as Charles Gunn as he answered the question, but allowed his eyes for roam across the others there. The strange bleached blond man reminded Darien a bit of Billy Idol, but there was something almost feral about him. The redhead next to him was staring at him with curious green eyes that should have belonged to a cat, but combined with her scarlet hair and pale skin, painted a very striking picture.
"I've never heard of a Chrysalis interested in us," remarked the thin dark haired man with an English accent coloring his words. "Only Wolfram and Hart have shown interested in Angelus, but for what, I couldn't tell you." Darien silently identified as the pain slowly faded from his head.
"Can't or won't?" inquired Hobbes, his voice carrying the suspicious edge that Darien was use to his partner displaying when dealing with suspects.
"Can't," clarified a deep voice that sent shivers up the lanky man's spine, as if someone had brushed velvet over his skin. He looked up into one of the most handsome faces he had seen and realized that Angel O'Shea definitely fit his name. He definitely resembled an angel, and Darien swallowed nervously as warm chocolate eyes met his own.
The woman, Cordelia Chase, snorted and folded her arms across her chest. "And it's not like we can just walk up to the Law firm from Hell and ask them 'By the way, why do you wanna bring the walking apocalypse known as Angelus back?'." The sarcasm in her voice was thick enough to walk on, but Darien realized that this was a defense for her since the worry in her eyes belied her apparent unconcern.
The redhead grinned. "Can I borrow your computer for a few minutes, Cordelia?" she asked.
"Huh? Why do you need it, Willow?" The request had apparently thrown the brunette beauty.
Willow, the redhead, shrugged. "It's apparent that there has to be some connection to this Chrysalis and Wolfram and Hart," she replied. "If it's out there, I'll find it." Cordelia grinned and led the red head behind the main desk in the lobby where a computer monitor was barely visible over the top of the desk.
"Maybe you could answer a few questions for us, Mr. O'Shea," began Hobbes, only to have four people regard him with puzzlement while the bleached blond smirked at Angel who was looking a bit embarrassed.
The blond chuckled slightly. "Still using that name, eh Peaches?" Unlike Wesley, his accent was more Cockney and less refined, which fit the dangerous image he presented.
"Spike, don't pick on Angel," called Willow, her eyes never leaving the computer screen. "Not unless you want to find yourself walking back to Sunnydale in the sunlight." She stood up and regarded the group curiously. "Does anyone know some rich guy named Stark?"
Instantly, Darien felt his partner stiffen and he also felt himself shift into an alert state. "Yeah. He's the head of Chrysalis. Why?" demanded Hobbes, his voice emotionless.
"Apparently, he's a main backer for Wolfram and Hart. One of the few humans on the board that the demons tolerate because of his money and personality," she reported, fiddling with something at the computer before emerging from behind the desk. A triumphant smile graced her face. "There's your connection and why this Chrysalis is after Angel Investigations. Because the lawyers want Angelus."
"Who is this Angelus that you keep talking about?" demanded Darien, the tingling in his head finally driving him to the breaking point.
"I am," confessed Angel, his voice soft and sorrow-filled. Darien could only stare at the handsome man as he tried to process what he had just been told. For some reason, a law firm, backed by Stark's money, was after Angel for some unknown reason, but whatever the reason, Darien knew it couldn't be a good one. The throbbing in his head warned him that he had not fully recovered from his injuries and he winced.
A large hand suddenly appeared before him, causing him to jump slightly. He looked up to find Angel staring at him with concern. "I have a guest room that you can recover in," he offered, his voice still soft, and Darien took the offered hand, startled at how cool and soft it was.
"Thanks. I still need a little down time," agreed Darien, tossing a glance back at Hobbes before following Angel up the stairs to the second floor. He didn't pay too much attention to where they were going, content to admire the way the black clothing fit on the broad frame before him. Quickly, he shoved those lustful thoughts out of his mind. It wasn't as if he was repulsed by the idea of being attracted to a man. He had long since accepted the fact that he was attracted to both men and women, but the dark haired man before him was dredging up memories and feelings that Darien preferred to leave buried for now.
Darien pulled himself out of his thoughts when he realized that Angel had stopped before a door. "You can rest in here," offered Angel, opening the door for him and stepping aside. Darien smiled his thanks and slipped into the room. He was startled when Angel followed him into the room, firmly closing the door behind him. "I was hoping we could talk about a few things that puzzle me," confessed Angel.
Darien silently shouted. His head had begun pounding again and all he wanted to do at this point was crawl into the bed and ignore the world until the sun rose. "What do you mean?"
"Simple. There was a metallic smell that surrounded you outside, and it also discouraged a fledgling in bloodlust from making you his meal," replied Angel with a casual shrug. "Care to explain that?"
"Sorry, don't know what you're talking about," Darien replied, sitting on the edge of the bed.
"I think you do. It was strongest when the tattoo on your wrist was almost completely red."
Darien raised his gaze and stared right into Angel's eyes. "How were you able to smell it?"
A smirk curled Angel's mouth. "So you do know what I'm talking about."
"And you didn't answer my question," countered Darien, slipping his jacket off and tossing it across the back of a nearby chair. He tried to ignore the dark eyes that seemed to follow his every movement, but it wasn't easy.
Suddenly, he felt a strange tingle race across his skin, as if he had been blanketed in static electricity and goosebumps appeared. "If you must know, I'm a vampire," came the reply in an emotionless voice. "So what was the source of the smell?"
The firm tone left no room for argument and Darien sighed in defeat as he ran a hand through his spiky brown hair. "It's like this," he began.
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Author: Tazzy (jellicalat1@yahoo.com
Rating NC-17
Disclaimer: Don't own 'em wish I did
Author's notes: I don't know when Cordelia cut her hair so it's still long like it was in high school in my story. Also, from this point on, a male/male relationship is going to develop so if you don't enjoy reading anything like that, you don't have to read any more of this story. See part one for the rest
The first sign that something was wrong was the shouting that slipped past the doors into the lobby, and the second was the wide-eyed blond woman who burst through those same doors a few seconds later as if Satan himself was chasing her. By that time, Angel had already grabbed his sword and was heading outside with a well armed Gunn, Wesley, and Cordelia as Spike and Willow followed curious, hoping to help if they could.
"Fangs...glowing eyes...my friends," gasped the blond as she tried to catch her breath. There was a metallic shimmer in her hair and a little caught in the folds of her clothes, as if she had walked in out of a misting rain.
"Willow, stay here with her," ordered Angel, not bothering to glance back at the others as he made his way past the blond. A metallic smell teased his nose, like damp iron but he ignored it for now. "Cordy, get the first aid kit ready." Before either could voice their objections at being left behind, he was out the door and already moving towards the vampire standing over the crumpled figure laying on the ground. The vampire, obviously a fledgling not even a month old, seemed unwilling to draw any closer to the form on the ground, but the bloodlust that controlled him was not about to let a potential meal alone. Without even hesitating, the heavy sword swung out and cleanly removed the fledgling's head from the rest of his body seconds before it dissolved into dust.
He knelt next to the unconscious form long enough to discover that the man was going to live, despite the strange silver dust that lay scattered on his clothing and the ground and the strong metallic scent that hovered over him like a blanket. He ordered Wesley to guard the unconscious man as the dark vampire headed towards the sounds of a fight just around the corner. There, he found about eight more fledglings surrounding a stocky man who was somehow holding his own, and Spike snorted in disgust.
"Fledges, every one of 'em," growled the peroxide blond before glancing up at Angel. "Want me to handle this, Peaches?"
A smirk crossed Angel's face. "Actually, I thought we'd teach them some manners first," he remarked, sounding like his demonic counterpart.
Spike nodded once before moving forward. "All right, enough of that!" he growled, allowing the power that marked him as a Master vampire to emerge. The vampires froze at the sound of his voice and turned to face him, their true faces visible. Angel also let his own powers to emerge, alerting the fledges that they had two Masters to face instead of just one.
"Who are you and what do you want here?" demanded one of the vampires, stepping away from the short man they had trapped against the building.
Sighing dramatically, Spike rolled his eyes and glanced back at Angel. "Youth today has no respect for their elders," he stated before a vicious grin crossed his face. "The name's Spike, an' what I want is to know why you're huntin' in Angelus's territory without his permission."
The fledges exchanged confused looks, and Angel's smirk grew. "Spike, m'boy, find out which of these idiots is the leader and dust the rest," he ordered, casually resting the sword tip on the ground.
"Right." Spike fixed cool blue eyes on the group. "Which of you blokes is the leader?" One vampire with a scar running down the side of his face stepped forward, and the peroxide blond nodded as he approached the fledgling. Casually, he decked the scarred vampire and after grabbing him by the scruff of the neck, returned to Angel's side.
With the same casual indifference that Spike displayed, the dark vampire waded through the cluster of vampires and grabbed the human's arm before removing him from the vampires. He nodded once at Gunn who began firing arrows at the vampires. In a few minutes, all the vampires were one large pile of dust on the sidewalk, and Angel turned to inspect the man. He was short, but stocky and other than a slightly rumpled suit, didn't look like he was involved in the confrontation at all.
"Are you all right?" inquired Angel, unable to spot any injuries.
The man nodded. "I'm fine, but my partner ran that away," he replied, gesturing towards the lobby. "I gotta make sure he's okay." He started towards the lobby, not bothering to see if any one else was following him or not and Angel fell in beside him. When Wesley came within sight, he heard the man's heartbeat speed up and realized that he was staring at the still form beside the ex-Watcher.
"Damn!" The man raced to the unconscious man's side and knelt down next to him, gently turning him over. The silver dust shimmered as it fell from the man's hair and clothes. "Darien, you okay?"
Angel knelt next to the two and handed his sword to Wesley before scooping up Darien, cradling the lanky man in his arms. "Let's get inside where he can be examined," suggested the dark vampire before glancing back at the peroxide blond vampire. "Spike, bring our guest with you."
Suddenly the stocky man was standing in front of Angel with a determined look on his face. "Why should I trust you?" he demanded, his eyes flickering around to include everyone in his accusation. "How do I know you're not in with whatever those things were?"
"They were vampires, pet," drawled Spike, carrying the unconscious fledgling over his shoulder. He jerked his head in Angel's direction. "An' even the Great Poof himself wouldn't go around and arrange for fledges this stupid ta attack anyone near his place." He brushed past the man and continued on into the hotel, leaving a puzzled Angel facing the man.
"We only want to help you and your partner," the dark vampire stated in a soothing voice. "Right now the best thing for him is to get inside where any injuries other than the bump on his head can be discovered." As he talked, he noticed that the metallic scent surrounding Darien was growing stronger as if he was slowly turning into iron. He slipped around the stocky man and entered the lobby to find the blond woman waiting anxiously.
As soon as he had placed the lanky man on one of the lounges, she was next to him, perched on the small cushion available as she checked the man for any injuries. She transformed from a concerned friend to a professional in the space of a few steps and Angel stood behind the lounge, silently watching her work. The metallic smell was so strong now, he was sure it had to be noticed by the humans, but the woman didn't say anything about it, just continued checking him for injuries other than the bump on his head. When she went to check his eyes, Angel caught a glimpse of solid red before she grabbed the limp arm, flipping his watchband down to reveal a nearly red tattoo of a snake eating it's own tail.
"Damn it, Darien," she swore before glancing around. "Hobbes, I need my bag, now!"
The stocky man grabbed her purse where it had been dropped near the door during her wild entrance and brought it over to her. "What's wrong, Claire?" he demanded, his voice strained with concern. He caught sight of the tattoo as she filled a syringe with a strange blue liquid and swore, colorfully.
mused Angel, a frown crossing his face as he stared down at Darien. A line of pain creased the handsome face almost as if he was silently fighting something in his sleep, and as Claire injected the blue liquid into his system, his face relaxed as if whatever caused him agony had ceased. Quickly, Angel glanced at the woman to find her gazing at a now green tattoo.
"Oi, Peaches." Spike's voice cut through his silent musings and he looked up to find the peroxide blond resting a booted foot on the fledgling's throat. He had dumped the younger vampire on the floor, and was now standing there with an indifferent look on his face. "Yer guest is about to wake up."
He walked over to the fledgling and Spike moved back, removing his foot from the younger vampire's neck to allow Angel room to lean down and wrap his hand around the pale neck. The vampire was starting to stir when Angel lifted him off the floor to hang from his grip with the toes of his scuffed tennis shoes swaying almost a foot above the floor.
"What were you sent to do here?" demanded the dark vampire, tightening his grip slightly as startled gold eyes snapped open to stare into a determined brown gaze. "Who sent you?"
"W..we were told to come here and kill the humans," stuttered the vampire, his pale complexion turning an interesting gray as a deep growl rumbled through the air. A hand landed on Angel's shoulder and he whipped his head around to stare into Spike's unflinching gaze.
"He can hardly answer our questions if he's dust, pet," soothed the bleached blond, and with a start, Angel realized that he was nearly crushing the vampire's throat. He relaxed his grip and instinct drove the vampire to gasp for unneeded breath. Spike turned his attention to the unfortunate vampire. "Who sent you?"
The vampire shrugged, carelessly. "Some guy claiming to be from some group called Wolfman and Hart," he replied, confidant that he'd get out of this confrontation with his skin intact.
"Wolfram and Hart?" There was a deadly growl in Angel's voice again, but the vampire hanging from his grip didn't notice it as he nodded enthusiastically. Snarling, Angel nonchalantly snapped the vampire's neck in a smooth motion before dropping the body on the floor. In seconds, a pile of dust was on the floor and Angel managed to reign in his temper before turning to face the strangers in his lobby.
"So, how much of a coincidence is it that you three arrived here just as a group of fledgling vampires also arrived to cause trouble?" inquired Angel, folding his arms across his chest. The woman, Claire, and the stocky man, Hobbes, exchanged glances across Darien's unmoving form that seemed to be a silent communications between them, but other than a slight wariness in their gazes, Angel couldn't read much of anything. Claire's hand lightly brushed across the unconscious man's forehead, moving a lock of brown hair off the smooth skin and a wave of jealousy surged through the dark vampire.
he thought, confused. Just then, his demon began bombarding him with images of the last time a warm male had been in his bed; a dark haired man with piercing blue eyes who was able to love as fiercely as the vampire before Angelus had changed him forever into the bleached blond that was standing protectively next to the redhead.
whispered Angelus in a seductive tone. Angel tried to ignore the murmured voice, but a soft, pain filled groan announced Darien's return to consciousness.
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The pain that radiated through his head wasn't the same pain that announced the onset of quicksilver madness, but that didn't mean it hurt any less. A groan escaped from Darien as full consciousness slammed onto him, nearly smothering him as bruises that had developed since he had been thrown into the wall made themselves known, and he squeezed his eyes closed as he desperately tried to ignore the pain.
A hand on his shoulder surprised him and his eyes flew open to gaze at the concerned faces of Hobbes and Claire. "Did ya find out what Chrysalis wants with those guys?" asked Darien, trying to stop his head from pounding. A strange feeling at the base of his skull was distracting him, like a persistent tingle, and he reached up a hand to rub the spot. For some reason, he was not surprised to feel the smooth scar that marked the spot where the gland had been implanted and he blinked at the frustrated expression that crossed Hobbes's face. "What? Did something happen?"
Hobbes snorted, softly. "Only you blurting out our mission here," he murmured, raising his head to focus on something out of Darien's sight. Darien frowned and carefully raised his head, wincing at the pain that arced through his skull at the slight movement, and groaned when he saw the four people from the folder and two strangers.
"Aw crap," he groaned, before dropping his head back to the cushion and covering his face with his hands. "Sorry, Hobbes."
"What is Chrysalis and why would these dudes be interested in us?" asked a voice that was straight from the streets.
Darien, dropped his hands to his sides and carefully sat up, painfully aware of bruises as his back complained about the movement. "Chrysalis is a group that wants to basically take over the government and replace it with their own version," explained the lanky man as Claire calmly stood up and moved off to one side. "As for why they'd be interested in you, we were hoping you could tell us." He focused on the black man whom he remembered as Charles Gunn as he answered the question, but allowed his eyes for roam across the others there. The strange bleached blond man reminded Darien a bit of Billy Idol, but there was something almost feral about him. The redhead next to him was staring at him with curious green eyes that should have belonged to a cat, but combined with her scarlet hair and pale skin, painted a very striking picture.
"I've never heard of a Chrysalis interested in us," remarked the thin dark haired man with an English accent coloring his words. "Only Wolfram and Hart have shown interested in Angelus, but for what, I couldn't tell you." Darien silently identified as the pain slowly faded from his head.
"Can't or won't?" inquired Hobbes, his voice carrying the suspicious edge that Darien was use to his partner displaying when dealing with suspects.
"Can't," clarified a deep voice that sent shivers up the lanky man's spine, as if someone had brushed velvet over his skin. He looked up into one of the most handsome faces he had seen and realized that Angel O'Shea definitely fit his name. He definitely resembled an angel, and Darien swallowed nervously as warm chocolate eyes met his own.
The woman, Cordelia Chase, snorted and folded her arms across her chest. "And it's not like we can just walk up to the Law firm from Hell and ask them 'By the way, why do you wanna bring the walking apocalypse known as Angelus back?'." The sarcasm in her voice was thick enough to walk on, but Darien realized that this was a defense for her since the worry in her eyes belied her apparent unconcern.
The redhead grinned. "Can I borrow your computer for a few minutes, Cordelia?" she asked.
"Huh? Why do you need it, Willow?" The request had apparently thrown the brunette beauty.
Willow, the redhead, shrugged. "It's apparent that there has to be some connection to this Chrysalis and Wolfram and Hart," she replied. "If it's out there, I'll find it." Cordelia grinned and led the red head behind the main desk in the lobby where a computer monitor was barely visible over the top of the desk.
"Maybe you could answer a few questions for us, Mr. O'Shea," began Hobbes, only to have four people regard him with puzzlement while the bleached blond smirked at Angel who was looking a bit embarrassed.
The blond chuckled slightly. "Still using that name, eh Peaches?" Unlike Wesley, his accent was more Cockney and less refined, which fit the dangerous image he presented.
"Spike, don't pick on Angel," called Willow, her eyes never leaving the computer screen. "Not unless you want to find yourself walking back to Sunnydale in the sunlight." She stood up and regarded the group curiously. "Does anyone know some rich guy named Stark?"
Instantly, Darien felt his partner stiffen and he also felt himself shift into an alert state. "Yeah. He's the head of Chrysalis. Why?" demanded Hobbes, his voice emotionless.
"Apparently, he's a main backer for Wolfram and Hart. One of the few humans on the board that the demons tolerate because of his money and personality," she reported, fiddling with something at the computer before emerging from behind the desk. A triumphant smile graced her face. "There's your connection and why this Chrysalis is after Angel Investigations. Because the lawyers want Angelus."
"Who is this Angelus that you keep talking about?" demanded Darien, the tingling in his head finally driving him to the breaking point.
"I am," confessed Angel, his voice soft and sorrow-filled. Darien could only stare at the handsome man as he tried to process what he had just been told. For some reason, a law firm, backed by Stark's money, was after Angel for some unknown reason, but whatever the reason, Darien knew it couldn't be a good one. The throbbing in his head warned him that he had not fully recovered from his injuries and he winced.
A large hand suddenly appeared before him, causing him to jump slightly. He looked up to find Angel staring at him with concern. "I have a guest room that you can recover in," he offered, his voice still soft, and Darien took the offered hand, startled at how cool and soft it was.
"Thanks. I still need a little down time," agreed Darien, tossing a glance back at Hobbes before following Angel up the stairs to the second floor. He didn't pay too much attention to where they were going, content to admire the way the black clothing fit on the broad frame before him. Quickly, he shoved those lustful thoughts out of his mind. It wasn't as if he was repulsed by the idea of being attracted to a man. He had long since accepted the fact that he was attracted to both men and women, but the dark haired man before him was dredging up memories and feelings that Darien preferred to leave buried for now.
Darien pulled himself out of his thoughts when he realized that Angel had stopped before a door. "You can rest in here," offered Angel, opening the door for him and stepping aside. Darien smiled his thanks and slipped into the room. He was startled when Angel followed him into the room, firmly closing the door behind him. "I was hoping we could talk about a few things that puzzle me," confessed Angel.
Darien silently shouted. His head had begun pounding again and all he wanted to do at this point was crawl into the bed and ignore the world until the sun rose. "What do you mean?"
"Simple. There was a metallic smell that surrounded you outside, and it also discouraged a fledgling in bloodlust from making you his meal," replied Angel with a casual shrug. "Care to explain that?"
"Sorry, don't know what you're talking about," Darien replied, sitting on the edge of the bed.
"I think you do. It was strongest when the tattoo on your wrist was almost completely red."
Darien raised his gaze and stared right into Angel's eyes. "How were you able to smell it?"
A smirk curled Angel's mouth. "So you do know what I'm talking about."
"And you didn't answer my question," countered Darien, slipping his jacket off and tossing it across the back of a nearby chair. He tried to ignore the dark eyes that seemed to follow his every movement, but it wasn't easy.
Suddenly, he felt a strange tingle race across his skin, as if he had been blanketed in static electricity and goosebumps appeared. "If you must know, I'm a vampire," came the reply in an emotionless voice. "So what was the source of the smell?"
The firm tone left no room for argument and Darien sighed in defeat as he ran a hand through his spiky brown hair. "It's like this," he began.
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