***Author's note: You remember that adult content I mention earlier? Well, here it is. Some of it, anyway. Don't say I didn't warn you! :D***
*I know your life is empty and
You hate to face this world alone
So you're searching for an angel
Someone that can make you whole
I cannot save you
I can't even save myself
So save yourself*
*Stabbing Westward - Save Yourself*
A week later...
"So, you're going on a date with Cassandra tonight, huh?" Angel's voice broke through Bryan's thoughts.
"Yeah," he responded. He'd just gotten out of the shower, and was standing before the mirror. He'd already put his pants on, and was now donning his shirt. They were nice pants, khaki. The shirt was a deep, emerald green, a dress shirt with nice-looking buttons down the front. Angel had picked the outfit out herself, and she was proud of it. She had a simple but extremely elegant fashion sense, and both of them benefitted.
She sat next to him on the bed as he pulled on the socks, then the saddle-brown dress shoes. He wondered why she was being so attentive. Almost huggy, which was definitely not a typical Angel mood.
"What are you doing tonight?" he asked, to break the uncharacteristic silence.
"Probably just gonna go mess around." Her tone almost seemed bored, but Bryan knew her better than that. Something was bothering her.
He didn't ask though. One of Angel's mottos was "Don't ask, don't tell." He wouldn't get anything out of her unless she wanted to say something.
There was another long silence. Fully clothed, Bryan walked to the nightstand to pick up his wallet and keys. When he looked back at his sister, she was staring at the floor, with a rather despondent look on her face. On an impulse, he knelt down on the floor and stared into her eyes. "Angel, what's wrong?"
She stared passively at him for a full five seconds. "Are you gonna sleep with her tonight?" she asked simply, without batting an eye.
Bryan rocked back to sit on his feet. "What the hell kind of question is that, Angel?"
"Just answer me."
Bryan paused for a long moment. "I might. Why?"
Her tone was flat. "Then I definitely don't want to be here tonight."
"Why not?"
"Oh, please! You think I'd get any sleep at all with that racket going on in the room below mine?"
They stared at each other for a moment, unblinking, before Bryan burst out laughing. It was a long, hearty laugh, and soon Angel was laughing, too. They were forced to quit a few minutes later, with aching sides and tearstained faces.
"Damn," Bryan muttered when he had control of himself. "I haven't had a laugh like that in a long time." A more sobering thought hit him. "In fact," he said almost to himself, "I can't remember the last time I laughed, period."
Still on his knees, he looked up to see Angel staring at him. She'd heard every word, and from the look on her face he correctly guessed that that had been her goal the entire time. A slow grin spread over her face. "Racket," she muttered, almost too quietly to hear, but he did hear, and it set them both off again.
After Bryan had left, she moped around the house for a while. She fed the dog, did the dishes, folded the laundry, etc. Still doing all the things she'd been doing before Kenji died, but at least now she didn't have some nasal-toned whinebag breathing down her neck.
Thinking about Bryan pairing up disturbed her, though she couldn't figure out why, at first. Then it hit her. She'd felt so alone when Kenji was alive, because it seemed like nobody cared about her. When Bryan came and Kenji died, a sort of bond had developed between the silver-haired siblings. She'd started to get close to him, and now here he was going out with somebody else. Feelings of loneliness attacked with a vengance, and she ruthlessly banished them from her mind. They were selfish feelings, she reasoned, and she didn't need them. Bryan wasn't going to abandon her for some... chick.
But the feelings persisted. She suddenly realized that she'd forgotten to do something before her brother left: diminish their mind-link. With Angel's empathic ability, it was possible to diminish a link she had with someone, particularly if they were going to do something like, say, have sex? She didn't exactly want to be privy to that sort of emotion running through her brother's mind. That would simply be disgusting. Nonetheless, she was stuck. She sighed, and glumly realized that it would be a long night.
Dinner was at a semi-fancy Italian restaurant. Sitting with Cassandra in a charming table for two, Bryan attracted more than his share of stares. How often was it that one saw a gorgeous woman having dinner with a pale, tattooed, battle-scarred man? Just like at the bar, he returned each and every stare until the person looked away. He was determined to enjoy this evening.
Talk was somewhat strained. He didn't like talking about his past, and she was uncommunicative about her job. She wasn't a hooker, he could tell. She didn't have that hooker attitude that he was so familiar with. That would almost have made things easier, as he was itching to get more personal with her. Thus, the subject centered around Angel, of all people. It was nearly the only thing he had in common with her, so it would have to do.
When dinner was finally over, he walked her to his shiny black Dodge Ram. The next order of business was a movie. Some chick flick that she obviously enjoyed. Bryan was in hell. They sat near the back, and he put on a smooth "move" as he yawned, stretched, and put one arm around her like a high-school playa. She smiled at his maneuver, and leaned closer to him. His skin was still chill to the touch, but his lips were oh-so-warm and soft as he skillfully kissed her into submission in that theater.
Back at home, Angel frowned at the rush of sexually-charged thoughts parading through her brother's mind. Desperately she tried to diminish the link, but she couldn't. She needed physical contact in order to do that. Besides, she couldn't concentrate, not with THAT going through her head.
She needed a walk. No, she needed a drink. She couldn't drink, though, and she'd only walked a few minutes when her brother's sexuality nearly knocked her over. God, he was making out with her, and she was letting him touch her breasts. Angel shuddered at the thought of ANYONE, let alone her brother, doing that to her, and she nearly vomited. She turned around and walked home.
She instead drove to the theater. Bryan's movie was almost done, but she chose some crappy war movie, and sat in the very back row, alone, where she could writhe in quiet disgust as Bryan slowly dominated his date. All he wanted was sex, she thought miserably. And Cassandra's mind said she was more than willing to fulfill that request. Odd that she could feel Cassandra's mind so well, Angel thought in a brief moment of clarity. Must be her physical contact with Bryan. And lots of contact, too.
In the movie parking lot, Bryan failed to spot Angel's car. Instead, he led her to his truck. "Where do you live?" he asked, his voice husky.
"You know what?" Cassandra purred. "How about we go to your place? I'm sick of mine." When Bryan seated himself in the driver's seat, she smiled devilishly and placed her hand gently in his lap as he drove.
For the next hour, Angel writhed in mental anguish as her brother and Cassandra happily screwed. Her own disgust was at war with the pleasure parading through Bryan's head, and she again cursed that twice-damned link.
Uh-oh. In her distress, Angel forgot to shield her mind, and was inavertently broadcasting her brother's pleasure. The only other occupant in the back row, a young blond man with a Hawaiian shirt and baggy red shorts, was looking at her with a gleam in his eyes, and one hand straying continually toward those shorts. She cringed, and did her best to shield from that oncoming hurricane of emotion. The blond man's lust waned, and he lost interest, thank God.
Finally Bryan and Cassandra were spent, and Angel's mind echoed almost painfully at the sudden emptiness as the two drifted to sleep. As the end credits rolled and the lights came on, Angel stood and prepared to leave, when the blond man grabbed her arm. He was drunk, and her keen nose was assaulted with the rank smell of alcohol. "Name's Steve," he slurred. "Wanna go back to my place?"
Angel easily twisted free of his grasp, her eyes noting the almost horrifying scar on his right arm. "No thanks."
"Your loss," he said, and pitched frighteningly to and fro before collapsing back into his seat. Angel shook her head and left.
She needed a walk. Now that her rampant brother was asleep, she might acutally be able to think this time. Leaving her car in the parking lot, she strolled aimlessly along the sidewalks of the downtown area. She was nearing Jerry's when she felt the presences in her mind. Lots of them. Incredibly hostile, and coming her way. For a moment, she thought to turn around, but most of them were now between her and the movie theater. She strode to the empty lot behind Jerry's, and waited.
First two figures emerged. Then five, then ten, then thirteen. Seventeen people total made a loose ring around her. All male, all young. The Green Breakers, in their entirity. All wielding bats, knives, and brass knuckles. Into the center of the circle stepped Derrick, the Breaker leader, himself wielding a wooden baseball bat with barbed wire wrapped around it.
Angel stared at him stonily, her trenchcoat fluttering gently with the night breeze, revealing the two knives strapped to both thighs. She made a quick movement, and Jerry's birthday knife appeared in her right hand, and an equally deadly-looking long knife that had been her birthday present from Bryan in her left.
Not a word was spoken. This would be a fight to the death, they all knew. Derrick was tired of being beaten by this freak. Now, he would end it all.
Seventeen young men armed with bats, knives, and brass knuckles. All of them intent on destroying the young woman in their midst, armed only with a pair of knives.
In Angel's eyes, the odds were just about even.
*I know your life is empty and
You hate to face this world alone
So you're searching for an angel
Someone that can make you whole
I cannot save you
I can't even save myself
So save yourself*
*Stabbing Westward - Save Yourself*
A week later...
"So, you're going on a date with Cassandra tonight, huh?" Angel's voice broke through Bryan's thoughts.
"Yeah," he responded. He'd just gotten out of the shower, and was standing before the mirror. He'd already put his pants on, and was now donning his shirt. They were nice pants, khaki. The shirt was a deep, emerald green, a dress shirt with nice-looking buttons down the front. Angel had picked the outfit out herself, and she was proud of it. She had a simple but extremely elegant fashion sense, and both of them benefitted.
She sat next to him on the bed as he pulled on the socks, then the saddle-brown dress shoes. He wondered why she was being so attentive. Almost huggy, which was definitely not a typical Angel mood.
"What are you doing tonight?" he asked, to break the uncharacteristic silence.
"Probably just gonna go mess around." Her tone almost seemed bored, but Bryan knew her better than that. Something was bothering her.
He didn't ask though. One of Angel's mottos was "Don't ask, don't tell." He wouldn't get anything out of her unless she wanted to say something.
There was another long silence. Fully clothed, Bryan walked to the nightstand to pick up his wallet and keys. When he looked back at his sister, she was staring at the floor, with a rather despondent look on her face. On an impulse, he knelt down on the floor and stared into her eyes. "Angel, what's wrong?"
She stared passively at him for a full five seconds. "Are you gonna sleep with her tonight?" she asked simply, without batting an eye.
Bryan rocked back to sit on his feet. "What the hell kind of question is that, Angel?"
"Just answer me."
Bryan paused for a long moment. "I might. Why?"
Her tone was flat. "Then I definitely don't want to be here tonight."
"Why not?"
"Oh, please! You think I'd get any sleep at all with that racket going on in the room below mine?"
They stared at each other for a moment, unblinking, before Bryan burst out laughing. It was a long, hearty laugh, and soon Angel was laughing, too. They were forced to quit a few minutes later, with aching sides and tearstained faces.
"Damn," Bryan muttered when he had control of himself. "I haven't had a laugh like that in a long time." A more sobering thought hit him. "In fact," he said almost to himself, "I can't remember the last time I laughed, period."
Still on his knees, he looked up to see Angel staring at him. She'd heard every word, and from the look on her face he correctly guessed that that had been her goal the entire time. A slow grin spread over her face. "Racket," she muttered, almost too quietly to hear, but he did hear, and it set them both off again.
After Bryan had left, she moped around the house for a while. She fed the dog, did the dishes, folded the laundry, etc. Still doing all the things she'd been doing before Kenji died, but at least now she didn't have some nasal-toned whinebag breathing down her neck.
Thinking about Bryan pairing up disturbed her, though she couldn't figure out why, at first. Then it hit her. She'd felt so alone when Kenji was alive, because it seemed like nobody cared about her. When Bryan came and Kenji died, a sort of bond had developed between the silver-haired siblings. She'd started to get close to him, and now here he was going out with somebody else. Feelings of loneliness attacked with a vengance, and she ruthlessly banished them from her mind. They were selfish feelings, she reasoned, and she didn't need them. Bryan wasn't going to abandon her for some... chick.
But the feelings persisted. She suddenly realized that she'd forgotten to do something before her brother left: diminish their mind-link. With Angel's empathic ability, it was possible to diminish a link she had with someone, particularly if they were going to do something like, say, have sex? She didn't exactly want to be privy to that sort of emotion running through her brother's mind. That would simply be disgusting. Nonetheless, she was stuck. She sighed, and glumly realized that it would be a long night.
Dinner was at a semi-fancy Italian restaurant. Sitting with Cassandra in a charming table for two, Bryan attracted more than his share of stares. How often was it that one saw a gorgeous woman having dinner with a pale, tattooed, battle-scarred man? Just like at the bar, he returned each and every stare until the person looked away. He was determined to enjoy this evening.
Talk was somewhat strained. He didn't like talking about his past, and she was uncommunicative about her job. She wasn't a hooker, he could tell. She didn't have that hooker attitude that he was so familiar with. That would almost have made things easier, as he was itching to get more personal with her. Thus, the subject centered around Angel, of all people. It was nearly the only thing he had in common with her, so it would have to do.
When dinner was finally over, he walked her to his shiny black Dodge Ram. The next order of business was a movie. Some chick flick that she obviously enjoyed. Bryan was in hell. They sat near the back, and he put on a smooth "move" as he yawned, stretched, and put one arm around her like a high-school playa. She smiled at his maneuver, and leaned closer to him. His skin was still chill to the touch, but his lips were oh-so-warm and soft as he skillfully kissed her into submission in that theater.
Back at home, Angel frowned at the rush of sexually-charged thoughts parading through her brother's mind. Desperately she tried to diminish the link, but she couldn't. She needed physical contact in order to do that. Besides, she couldn't concentrate, not with THAT going through her head.
She needed a walk. No, she needed a drink. She couldn't drink, though, and she'd only walked a few minutes when her brother's sexuality nearly knocked her over. God, he was making out with her, and she was letting him touch her breasts. Angel shuddered at the thought of ANYONE, let alone her brother, doing that to her, and she nearly vomited. She turned around and walked home.
She instead drove to the theater. Bryan's movie was almost done, but she chose some crappy war movie, and sat in the very back row, alone, where she could writhe in quiet disgust as Bryan slowly dominated his date. All he wanted was sex, she thought miserably. And Cassandra's mind said she was more than willing to fulfill that request. Odd that she could feel Cassandra's mind so well, Angel thought in a brief moment of clarity. Must be her physical contact with Bryan. And lots of contact, too.
In the movie parking lot, Bryan failed to spot Angel's car. Instead, he led her to his truck. "Where do you live?" he asked, his voice husky.
"You know what?" Cassandra purred. "How about we go to your place? I'm sick of mine." When Bryan seated himself in the driver's seat, she smiled devilishly and placed her hand gently in his lap as he drove.
For the next hour, Angel writhed in mental anguish as her brother and Cassandra happily screwed. Her own disgust was at war with the pleasure parading through Bryan's head, and she again cursed that twice-damned link.
Uh-oh. In her distress, Angel forgot to shield her mind, and was inavertently broadcasting her brother's pleasure. The only other occupant in the back row, a young blond man with a Hawaiian shirt and baggy red shorts, was looking at her with a gleam in his eyes, and one hand straying continually toward those shorts. She cringed, and did her best to shield from that oncoming hurricane of emotion. The blond man's lust waned, and he lost interest, thank God.
Finally Bryan and Cassandra were spent, and Angel's mind echoed almost painfully at the sudden emptiness as the two drifted to sleep. As the end credits rolled and the lights came on, Angel stood and prepared to leave, when the blond man grabbed her arm. He was drunk, and her keen nose was assaulted with the rank smell of alcohol. "Name's Steve," he slurred. "Wanna go back to my place?"
Angel easily twisted free of his grasp, her eyes noting the almost horrifying scar on his right arm. "No thanks."
"Your loss," he said, and pitched frighteningly to and fro before collapsing back into his seat. Angel shook her head and left.
She needed a walk. Now that her rampant brother was asleep, she might acutally be able to think this time. Leaving her car in the parking lot, she strolled aimlessly along the sidewalks of the downtown area. She was nearing Jerry's when she felt the presences in her mind. Lots of them. Incredibly hostile, and coming her way. For a moment, she thought to turn around, but most of them were now between her and the movie theater. She strode to the empty lot behind Jerry's, and waited.
First two figures emerged. Then five, then ten, then thirteen. Seventeen people total made a loose ring around her. All male, all young. The Green Breakers, in their entirity. All wielding bats, knives, and brass knuckles. Into the center of the circle stepped Derrick, the Breaker leader, himself wielding a wooden baseball bat with barbed wire wrapped around it.
Angel stared at him stonily, her trenchcoat fluttering gently with the night breeze, revealing the two knives strapped to both thighs. She made a quick movement, and Jerry's birthday knife appeared in her right hand, and an equally deadly-looking long knife that had been her birthday present from Bryan in her left.
Not a word was spoken. This would be a fight to the death, they all knew. Derrick was tired of being beaten by this freak. Now, he would end it all.
Seventeen young men armed with bats, knives, and brass knuckles. All of them intent on destroying the young woman in their midst, armed only with a pair of knives.
In Angel's eyes, the odds were just about even.