Disclaimer: I no own canon. If you don't recognize it, I probably own it.
A few minutes later Angel came out, a perplexed look oh his face. Everyone leaned forward slightly, waiting to know who called, but the answer did not come. JP had interrupted the mood, once again.
"Can I see your grrrrrrrrrr face?" he asked in a typical little boy fashion. He was enthralled by anything that a self-respecting little girl would have found disgusting, as did some adults. His eyes were wide and innocent, and there was a hopeful smile upon his lips. Oz's heart sank, so Kieran had taught him the puppy dog look. But at least it suited him in some strange karmic way. Inwardly Oz sighed, yes, the puppy dog look did suit him.
"Grr face?" Angel asked, looking towards Oz for clarification.
"Vamp," Oz said simply, hugging his son gently as he placed his chin atop JP's head.
Angel did as requested and JP once again burst out into giggles. "Grr, grr!" he cried happily, his hands clapping together.
Cordelia raised a perfectly manicured eyebrow. "Oz, not to be mean or anything, but maybe you should get him checked out. Most five-year-olds don't find pleasure in vamping out. Creepy, crawly things, yes. Vamping…no.
To her surprise, Oz remained calm. "You have to understand, he doesn't see the vamping out action bad. JP knows the difference between good and bad demon."
JP looked up towards his father, "Like Mr. S, right?" he asked, hopefully.
Oz grinned, "Like Mr. S," he nodded.
"Who the he-," Connor stopped himself, mainly due to the icy glares that Cordelia was shooting his way. "Who the heck," he started again, without the glaring, "Is Mr. S?" he asked.
Oz eyes stared into Connor's own, "Someone who kept JP safe," he told the teenage boy simply before shrugging and looking away.
"Excuse me, I heard you dealt in solving mysteries," a voice said from the front doors. The voice belong to a slightly plump woman, who had a no-funny-business look about her, possibly due to the simple black skirt and white sweater set that she wore.
"I'm sorry, be we deal with cases that are a bit out of the ordinary. If you need another agency, we would be glad to recommend one to you," Cordelia stood up and walked towards the main desk, ready to get another private investigation's business card.
The woman's eyes flashed. "Well maybe this will be a bit out of the ordinary, even for you. Do you deal with prophecies? From ones before our time?
Suddenly JP spoke up, "Prophesy, it is just the beginning."
Everyone blinked for a couple moments before swinging his or her heads to look at the little boy, who was sucking on his thumb contentedly. Cordelia, the business card forgotten swung around to look at Oz direction, "Are you sure you don't want to get the kid checked out?" she asked.
He simply blinked at Cordelia and then turned to the woman staring at her. He didn't like the way she was looking at his son, with a mix of awe and confusion. She didn't flinch under his intense stare, instead she took a step closer to the pair that sat on the floor and crouched.
Reaching out tentatively to JP, the woman smiled at him. Touching his hair softly, her smile grew wider. "You're a special one," she commented. "I can feel it, God had his eye on you." JP beamed at the compliment while the others had their eye on the woman, there was something different about her.
Sensing the general discomfort within the group, she stood up and looked at everyone from behind her oval glasses. Blinking once, then twice, she composed herself. "Wow, it looks like you've never seem a Long Island Jew before," she commented with a grin, then blinking once more, grew serious. "I am Esther Goldstein. Currently I'm trying to get my doctorate in ancient literature. Last night I was studying prophecies of a second century prophet named Adinah. By doing my own translations and so fourth, I found something rather unusual," she looked from person to person, "I heard you could help me. So here I am."
Wesley gave her a critical look, "Aren't you a bit young to be getting your doctorate?" he asked, his voice clipped. He took a step towards her.
Esther didn't even blink or back away, in fact, she took a step closer. "I was an intelligent child," she offered, "Prep school, AP classes, and summer courses took some of the time off my hands."
Wesley simply nodded and stepped back allowing Esther to walk away from the doors and into the midst of the people. Fred made the first moved.
"So what do you need help with?" the petite Texan girl asked.
"You're pretty," JP announced to the world.
Esther turned and smiled down at the endearing boy, "Thank you," she told him sincerely before turning back to Wesley and Fred, explaining what this mystery of her was.
Cloudy gray eyes surveyed the ramshackle building in front of her. "Willy's Bar," she read the neon sign. The s in the sign was flickering in and out, she'd try to remember to tell the owner, if he gave her the information she was looking for.
Steeling herself slightly against the smell, she walked into the dark and dingy bar. The smell of cigarette smoke, as well as other unidentifiable smells. Wrinkling her nose at the rank fumes she walked closer to the bar where a short man stood, washing the counter top.
"Hey, we don't sell to minors," he told her, once she made her presence known.
She smiled innocently, but her eyes made it look nasty. "Good, I wasn't looking to buy anything. I was looking for information." Leaning with her elbows on the countertops she looked at the man, presumably Willy. "You wanna give to me?" she asked.
The man looked around and saw that the place was half filled with demons, and giving out information, to a human no less, would not be good for his reputation. "I'm sorry, I don't think I have anything to tell," he told her, and went back to cleaning the bar top.
Her hand was wrapped around his neck in a blink of an eye, her gray eyes cold and uncaring. "I didn't tell you what I wanted though," her voice was light, "so who knows, you may know something after all." Tossing her head, her plum colored ponytail waved. "What do you know about werewolves being around this town?" she asked, letting go of him.
Rubbing his neck, the man looked at the girl, she didn't look older than 15. Idly he wondered if he had another slayer on their hands. "There was one in residence a few years back. Two came around again about two years ago."
Her eyes flashed with what looked like hope. "Did you know if one was a kid, about five now," she asked him, the excitement in her eyes and voice betrayed the bored mask she wore.
"Sorry," the man said, finally getting back to his menial task.
"Damn," she muttered. Turning she started to walk out the doors. "Hey, the s in your sign is going out," she called.
The man looked up, but the girl was gone. "Strange," he muttered and went back to cleaning the bar top. It was going to be a long night.
He didn't see someone that was sitting in the corner get up and follow the girl out.
By the time late afternoon rolled around everyone had settled in for a comfortable day. Wesley, Fred, and Esther had been sitting in the office. Had being the operative word.
"You…you…bastard, for lack of a better word," Esther shouted, her dark hair coming out of the plait that it had been in the morning.
"Excuse me?" Wesley looked down at her, taking off his glasses in the process.
"You dare to tell me that I am entirely wrong?" Esther raged.
Wesley shook his head, "I did not say that at all," he told her.
Her hands were on her hips, "Than what did you say?" she asked him, her eyes narrowed, and she waited.
"I only suggested that your syntax was wrong," Wesley told her, slipping his glassed back on.
Her glare didn't cease, "You're doubting my education from Bryn Mawr and UCLA?" she demanded.
Their heated discussion was interrupted with a shriek from Kieran. Looking at one another, they darted into the other room, where they found Kieran looking at a standing JP, whose eyes had rolled back, and he looked so unsteady that it looked like he was about to fall down.
"We were just playing, and he went like this," Kieran mumbled, clearly unnerved by the child's actions.
"Bad people, bad, bad people. Not good like Mr. S. Wanna hurt the fluffy people and bring the rough home," JP reported. "They're scared, oh so scared. You have to help them," tears were trailing down his cheeks by now.
"Angel, vision!" Cordelia cried. At that moment JP's eyes closed, although fat tears were still rolling down his cheeks, making wet marks on the collar of his tee shirt. He wobbled and Kieran made the move to catch him.
She glared at the other two, who stood there, extremely confused at what just had happened. "Will one of you two get his father?" he growled, brushing a piece of hair off the boy's forehead.
Wesley nodded quickly and rushed out of the room as Esther walked closer to the pair and crouched. Smiling softly. "He's special, so special sometimes, it's heartbreaking."
Kieran looked up, "How do you know this?" she asked, confused, still brushing at that errant lock of hair.
Another sad smile, "I guess you could say I was graced with a gift from god. I guess you could also call me an empathetic, someone who senses other's feelings. Or their specialness, I really don't know. But he's one of the special ones."
JP's eyes blinked open at that moment and he looked up at the two women above him. "Thank you," he said simply before catching sight of his father and started reaching out for him. Silently Oz picked up the child and let him cry into his shoulder.
Spike darted out of Willy's and into the refreshing night air of Sunnydale. He sniffed slightly and made a left, ever so often sniffing, tracking the strange girl. Finally he caught up to her, she was standing in front of a toy store.
"You wanted information about werewolves?" he asked, sliding up to her.
She turned around, knife raised. "What do you want?" she demanded, eyes flashing in the street light. Slowly she put it down, but left it hanging by her side.
Spike shrugged, "Not much, I just happen know a couple of werewolves. Now why don't you tell me why a pretty little thing like yourself is wandering the streets of a not so nice town and asking about information about them?" his blue eyes met hers and for a few minutes they were silent, locked in a battle of wills. The girl looked away first. "What's your name?" Spike started.
"What's it to you?" she asked, putting away her knife, deciding that it wasn't worth it. Spike could be useful in her search.
"You wanted info," he told her.
The girl sighed, "Mercedes," she told him. When his eyebrow arched, she shrugged, "That's all I go by. Sometimes Mercy Benz."
Spike nodded, "Now you were looking for a five year old werewolf. There aren't many of those around," he commented.
She took a step back and relaxed, "Yeah, there aren't. So maybe you can help me find the little bugger. Name's Jordan, goes by JP."
"Jeepers? What do you want with the little runt?" Spike asked, leaning closer to the girl.
She glared, "To protect him. Where is he?" Mercedes asked, her voice dangerously low.
"Family," Spike answered simply. There was something about this girl, something he didn't know about.
Mercedes held her head high, "I'm the only family he's got."
I hope you all like! Well this is chapter three, and I hope you liked Mercy, I have plans for her, and for the people who are looking foward to seeing Lindsey *wink* just review this chapter and it'll be out sooner.
A few minutes later Angel came out, a perplexed look oh his face. Everyone leaned forward slightly, waiting to know who called, but the answer did not come. JP had interrupted the mood, once again.
"Can I see your grrrrrrrrrr face?" he asked in a typical little boy fashion. He was enthralled by anything that a self-respecting little girl would have found disgusting, as did some adults. His eyes were wide and innocent, and there was a hopeful smile upon his lips. Oz's heart sank, so Kieran had taught him the puppy dog look. But at least it suited him in some strange karmic way. Inwardly Oz sighed, yes, the puppy dog look did suit him.
"Grr face?" Angel asked, looking towards Oz for clarification.
"Vamp," Oz said simply, hugging his son gently as he placed his chin atop JP's head.
Angel did as requested and JP once again burst out into giggles. "Grr, grr!" he cried happily, his hands clapping together.
Cordelia raised a perfectly manicured eyebrow. "Oz, not to be mean or anything, but maybe you should get him checked out. Most five-year-olds don't find pleasure in vamping out. Creepy, crawly things, yes. Vamping…no.
To her surprise, Oz remained calm. "You have to understand, he doesn't see the vamping out action bad. JP knows the difference between good and bad demon."
JP looked up towards his father, "Like Mr. S, right?" he asked, hopefully.
Oz grinned, "Like Mr. S," he nodded.
"Who the he-," Connor stopped himself, mainly due to the icy glares that Cordelia was shooting his way. "Who the heck," he started again, without the glaring, "Is Mr. S?" he asked.
Oz eyes stared into Connor's own, "Someone who kept JP safe," he told the teenage boy simply before shrugging and looking away.
"Excuse me, I heard you dealt in solving mysteries," a voice said from the front doors. The voice belong to a slightly plump woman, who had a no-funny-business look about her, possibly due to the simple black skirt and white sweater set that she wore.
"I'm sorry, be we deal with cases that are a bit out of the ordinary. If you need another agency, we would be glad to recommend one to you," Cordelia stood up and walked towards the main desk, ready to get another private investigation's business card.
The woman's eyes flashed. "Well maybe this will be a bit out of the ordinary, even for you. Do you deal with prophecies? From ones before our time?
Suddenly JP spoke up, "Prophesy, it is just the beginning."
Everyone blinked for a couple moments before swinging his or her heads to look at the little boy, who was sucking on his thumb contentedly. Cordelia, the business card forgotten swung around to look at Oz direction, "Are you sure you don't want to get the kid checked out?" she asked.
He simply blinked at Cordelia and then turned to the woman staring at her. He didn't like the way she was looking at his son, with a mix of awe and confusion. She didn't flinch under his intense stare, instead she took a step closer to the pair that sat on the floor and crouched.
Reaching out tentatively to JP, the woman smiled at him. Touching his hair softly, her smile grew wider. "You're a special one," she commented. "I can feel it, God had his eye on you." JP beamed at the compliment while the others had their eye on the woman, there was something different about her.
Sensing the general discomfort within the group, she stood up and looked at everyone from behind her oval glasses. Blinking once, then twice, she composed herself. "Wow, it looks like you've never seem a Long Island Jew before," she commented with a grin, then blinking once more, grew serious. "I am Esther Goldstein. Currently I'm trying to get my doctorate in ancient literature. Last night I was studying prophecies of a second century prophet named Adinah. By doing my own translations and so fourth, I found something rather unusual," she looked from person to person, "I heard you could help me. So here I am."
Wesley gave her a critical look, "Aren't you a bit young to be getting your doctorate?" he asked, his voice clipped. He took a step towards her.
Esther didn't even blink or back away, in fact, she took a step closer. "I was an intelligent child," she offered, "Prep school, AP classes, and summer courses took some of the time off my hands."
Wesley simply nodded and stepped back allowing Esther to walk away from the doors and into the midst of the people. Fred made the first moved.
"So what do you need help with?" the petite Texan girl asked.
"You're pretty," JP announced to the world.
Esther turned and smiled down at the endearing boy, "Thank you," she told him sincerely before turning back to Wesley and Fred, explaining what this mystery of her was.
Cloudy gray eyes surveyed the ramshackle building in front of her. "Willy's Bar," she read the neon sign. The s in the sign was flickering in and out, she'd try to remember to tell the owner, if he gave her the information she was looking for.
Steeling herself slightly against the smell, she walked into the dark and dingy bar. The smell of cigarette smoke, as well as other unidentifiable smells. Wrinkling her nose at the rank fumes she walked closer to the bar where a short man stood, washing the counter top.
"Hey, we don't sell to minors," he told her, once she made her presence known.
She smiled innocently, but her eyes made it look nasty. "Good, I wasn't looking to buy anything. I was looking for information." Leaning with her elbows on the countertops she looked at the man, presumably Willy. "You wanna give to me?" she asked.
The man looked around and saw that the place was half filled with demons, and giving out information, to a human no less, would not be good for his reputation. "I'm sorry, I don't think I have anything to tell," he told her, and went back to cleaning the bar top.
Her hand was wrapped around his neck in a blink of an eye, her gray eyes cold and uncaring. "I didn't tell you what I wanted though," her voice was light, "so who knows, you may know something after all." Tossing her head, her plum colored ponytail waved. "What do you know about werewolves being around this town?" she asked, letting go of him.
Rubbing his neck, the man looked at the girl, she didn't look older than 15. Idly he wondered if he had another slayer on their hands. "There was one in residence a few years back. Two came around again about two years ago."
Her eyes flashed with what looked like hope. "Did you know if one was a kid, about five now," she asked him, the excitement in her eyes and voice betrayed the bored mask she wore.
"Sorry," the man said, finally getting back to his menial task.
"Damn," she muttered. Turning she started to walk out the doors. "Hey, the s in your sign is going out," she called.
The man looked up, but the girl was gone. "Strange," he muttered and went back to cleaning the bar top. It was going to be a long night.
He didn't see someone that was sitting in the corner get up and follow the girl out.
By the time late afternoon rolled around everyone had settled in for a comfortable day. Wesley, Fred, and Esther had been sitting in the office. Had being the operative word.
"You…you…bastard, for lack of a better word," Esther shouted, her dark hair coming out of the plait that it had been in the morning.
"Excuse me?" Wesley looked down at her, taking off his glasses in the process.
"You dare to tell me that I am entirely wrong?" Esther raged.
Wesley shook his head, "I did not say that at all," he told her.
Her hands were on her hips, "Than what did you say?" she asked him, her eyes narrowed, and she waited.
"I only suggested that your syntax was wrong," Wesley told her, slipping his glassed back on.
Her glare didn't cease, "You're doubting my education from Bryn Mawr and UCLA?" she demanded.
Their heated discussion was interrupted with a shriek from Kieran. Looking at one another, they darted into the other room, where they found Kieran looking at a standing JP, whose eyes had rolled back, and he looked so unsteady that it looked like he was about to fall down.
"We were just playing, and he went like this," Kieran mumbled, clearly unnerved by the child's actions.
"Bad people, bad, bad people. Not good like Mr. S. Wanna hurt the fluffy people and bring the rough home," JP reported. "They're scared, oh so scared. You have to help them," tears were trailing down his cheeks by now.
"Angel, vision!" Cordelia cried. At that moment JP's eyes closed, although fat tears were still rolling down his cheeks, making wet marks on the collar of his tee shirt. He wobbled and Kieran made the move to catch him.
She glared at the other two, who stood there, extremely confused at what just had happened. "Will one of you two get his father?" he growled, brushing a piece of hair off the boy's forehead.
Wesley nodded quickly and rushed out of the room as Esther walked closer to the pair and crouched. Smiling softly. "He's special, so special sometimes, it's heartbreaking."
Kieran looked up, "How do you know this?" she asked, confused, still brushing at that errant lock of hair.
Another sad smile, "I guess you could say I was graced with a gift from god. I guess you could also call me an empathetic, someone who senses other's feelings. Or their specialness, I really don't know. But he's one of the special ones."
JP's eyes blinked open at that moment and he looked up at the two women above him. "Thank you," he said simply before catching sight of his father and started reaching out for him. Silently Oz picked up the child and let him cry into his shoulder.
Spike darted out of Willy's and into the refreshing night air of Sunnydale. He sniffed slightly and made a left, ever so often sniffing, tracking the strange girl. Finally he caught up to her, she was standing in front of a toy store.
"You wanted information about werewolves?" he asked, sliding up to her.
She turned around, knife raised. "What do you want?" she demanded, eyes flashing in the street light. Slowly she put it down, but left it hanging by her side.
Spike shrugged, "Not much, I just happen know a couple of werewolves. Now why don't you tell me why a pretty little thing like yourself is wandering the streets of a not so nice town and asking about information about them?" his blue eyes met hers and for a few minutes they were silent, locked in a battle of wills. The girl looked away first. "What's your name?" Spike started.
"What's it to you?" she asked, putting away her knife, deciding that it wasn't worth it. Spike could be useful in her search.
"You wanted info," he told her.
The girl sighed, "Mercedes," she told him. When his eyebrow arched, she shrugged, "That's all I go by. Sometimes Mercy Benz."
Spike nodded, "Now you were looking for a five year old werewolf. There aren't many of those around," he commented.
She took a step back and relaxed, "Yeah, there aren't. So maybe you can help me find the little bugger. Name's Jordan, goes by JP."
"Jeepers? What do you want with the little runt?" Spike asked, leaning closer to the girl.
She glared, "To protect him. Where is he?" Mercedes asked, her voice dangerously low.
"Family," Spike answered simply. There was something about this girl, something he didn't know about.
Mercedes held her head high, "I'm the only family he's got."
I hope you all like! Well this is chapter three, and I hope you liked Mercy, I have plans for her, and for the people who are looking foward to seeing Lindsey *wink* just review this chapter and it'll be out sooner.