Disclaimer: I don't own a thing.
In a dark building in the middle of the meatpacking district of LA, there was a man. He was quite ordinary. Average looks, average height. He just looked like any other man you may see on the street. As he entered a warehouse turned apartment complex, he grinned. Sometimes manipulating people was the most fun he could have, on conjunction with creating havoc of course.
Esther chewed on her thumbnail, wondering why she had caught herself up in such a mess. She had just had to get herself mixed up in this. Apparently the manuscript known as the Prophetica was not a collection of writings from different prophets as had been previously thought, but one long winding tale that seemed to talk about betrayal, miracles, and of course the ending or saving of the world. It was funny how Wesley wasn't too worried about the last one.
LA's summer sun warmed her face and she sighed. Sometimes she wondered why she had even started this project. There were lots of things she could have been doing, like writing her thesis, but she didn't want to think about that. Her phone vibrated. Sighing, she pulled it out.
"Hello?" she said her voice weary. The caller was her younger sister. They talked for a bit before Esther had to go. Other duties were calling. She had to get back home to her Great Uncle, after all, his nurse only worked from nine to four. Sometimes, she wondered why she did it, why she cared. Then it all made sense to her, family was family. You didn't mess family up.
And yet, she wanted to, so badly. Or maybe not. She loved what she did, she loved mysteries and puzzles and everything that could be included in her kind of work. But she didn't love the spotlight it put her in with her family. In the next couple of years she'd be the next housewife. She would have 3.2 kids and a husband who was a doctor or a lawyer or a rabbi. Her parents weren't too picky at the moment.
Standing, Esther went to bid goodbye until the next day. She had to get home and take of the family she had now.
Cordelia walked into Angel's room without knocking. Angel didn't even bother trying to stop her. He knew she'd just do it again the next day. She smiled at the vampire and sat next to him on the bed.
"I heard you made cookies with JP," Cordelia stated.
Angel looked up, "We needed something to do," he told the ex-cheerleader.
Cordelia observed him for a moment. She wondered how he could be so nonchalant about baking cookies with a five-year-old. Most of the guys she had dated would have never done such a thing, and if they had, they would never have admitted it to her.
"So you're admitting that you made cookies with JP?" Cordelia verified. Angel nodded. "That's so cute!" Cordelia squealed.
Angel looked up from his book, "If you say so. We needed something to do," he looked down again.
Cordelia nodded as she heard the sound of JP running by, a larger person after him. "Do you ever wonder what it would be like if Connor had stayed here?" she asked, leaning her head on Angel's shoulder. She sighed wistfully.
Angel put his book on his lap as he wrapped an arm around the woman. "All the time," he admitted. "But Doyle, he did a good job, Connor isn't permanently scarred for life. Or I hope not."
Cordelia allowed herself to smile slightly; "But sometimes I still wish…" she trailed off. Cordelia did not know how to put how she felt into words.
Angel kissed her forehead, "I know, I know," he told her. And they stayed like that.
Dawn led Mercedes up the path of 1630 Revello Drive. Making a motion for the other girl to stay quiet, Dawn opened the door and allowed Mercedes in.
"That you 'Bit?" Spike called from the living room.
"Yup," Dawns said, pushing the other girl into the kitchen and out of the clear view of the living room.
"The Watcher was looking for you, you know why?" Spike asked, walking over to her.
Dawn raised an eyebrow, "No," she then looked at him sweetly. "I didn't do anything wrong, honest. I'm home early for god sakes."
Spike imitated her by raising an eyebrow. "Didn't do anything wrong huh? Than how come I smell alcohol on your breath." He sniffed, "Rum perhaps?"
Dawn didn't say anything, but instead gave him large innocent eyes. They engaged in a staring match. Spike was unsure about what Dawn had been doing, and Dawn was trying her best to convince Spike that everything was perfectly fine. It seemed to be going in Dawn's favor when Mercedes walked in.
"Who made the cookies?" Mercedes walked into the hall, a half-eaten chocolate chip cookie in her hand. She brushed a few crumbs off her mouth with her other hand.
"Dawn, who is this?" Tara said as she walked over. Turning to Mercedes she smiled, "I made them."
Mercedes smiled, she liked this new person. "I'm Mercedes," she nodded before turning and going back into the kitchen for more cookies.
Spike blinked, "Dawn do you know who that is?" he said.
Dawn nodded, "That would be Mercedes," she smiled and walked into the kitchen, following her new friend's lead.
Sputtering, Spike followed, intent on telling his Lil Bit exactly who this Mercedes was. Tara trailed behind him, confused at what was going on.
"Now you listen here, I want to know why you are here and who you are. I wanted to know five minutes ago. Do you hear me?" Spike folded his arms and looked at Mercedes, who was finishing off her second cookie.
The girl looked at him. "Does he do this much?" she asked Dawn. She nodded, and Mercedes smiled. "Well then. News flash, I have a few things to tell you. One, You aren't my daddy. Two, I've gone through things you can't even imagine. Three, the eighties are over. Anything else?" she gave him a sweet smile, reaching for yet another cookie.
"Doesn't answer my questions," Spike said after a few minutes.
Tara, seeing that this would be going no where, intervened. "Look, Mercedes, Spike just wants to know who you are, that's it. We're not trying to make your life difficult."
Mercedes put down her cookie, he eyes cloudy and dark. "I'm Mercedes. And that's all I know about myself. I'm looking for a kid, a werewolf, by the name of Jordan Paul Osbourne. And your buddy here knows something, he's just not telling."
Tara nodded, understanding. "Okay, Spike, why don't you answer he questions. She answered yours," she compromised.
Spike crossed and uncrossed his arms. "Jeepers, Jordan Paul Osbourne, is safe. Where, I don't know. But he's with family."
Mercedes' eyes grew even darker than before, looking almost black against her pale skin. "You know, it would be for him to be safe with family when I'm the only type he has."
Spike snorted, "You aren't his father," he smirked, thinking he had won.
Mercedes looked unimpressed. "And I'm not the one who left him with bastards who were happy torturing kids for their own sick pleasure."
When he heard that bit of information, Spike pale considerably and his facial expressions softened. "You're one of them," he said gently.
Mercedes didn't flinch at the revelation that he had. "There were more of ups. How many, I don't know. Who they were, I don't know that either. But there was another, along with JP, and we're family."
Connor stood in front of the door of the Oz and JP's room. What Oz had said a few days ago wouldn't leave him along. Letting out a deep breath, he knocked.
"Come in," Oz called out. He was sitting on his bed with Wesley's laptop sitting in front of him. Currently he was trying to clean it up; the last virus has left it in one giant mess.
"Hey," Connor stood at the door, leaning against the frame. "I was wondering if I could, you know, borrow the leash a few days ago." The teen could feel the blush rising to his cheeks, although he did not know why.
Not even looking up towards the embarrassed teen, Oz pointed to the top drawer of the dresser. Connor found it on the left. It was one of those child leashed that criss-crossed the chest and the back.
"Thanks," Connor said as he walked out of the room and down the hall to his own room. As he opened the door, his eyes flickered over to his desk. Upon it laid a coil of steel. Connor grinned. "Doyle always said I was good with my hands," he told himself. Shutting the door behind him, the teen got to work.
A man in his apart whistled, that fact in itself wasn't strange. What he was doing while whistling made everything strange. He was sharpening a knife that was way too ornate to even belong as decoration for the dingy apartment.
The man stood and walked over to what appeared to be a closet door. Opening it, he smiled. In the corner farthest away from the door, a little girl huddled in a ball. "Hello my sweet," the man hissed.
She looked up; her crystal blue eyes shone with unshed tears. As the man came towards her, his knife ready to strike, she made a mewling sound. It was almost an attempted a pleading, but not quite. The man made quick work with his pretty little weapon. The shallow cut on the girl's stomach started to bleed. By that time, the tears that had threatened to fall were making clean streaks in the otherwise dirty face.
"Excellent," the man told his captive. The wound had started scabbing over. A pool of a dark sticky substance
Mercedes was still glaring at Spike when there was a pain in her stomach. Crying out, she hunched over, her ponytail hanging limply to the side. The pain hurt so much, so much, and she blacked out.
In the Hyperion, JP stopped what he was doing and whimpered pitifully.
Kieran looked up from her book, eyes sharp, "What's wrong?" she asked.
"Hurts," JP mumbled between whimpering. He was holding his stomach tightly.
Kieran stood and walked over to him, "Lemme see?" she asked, crouching. After he nodded, she pried his hands away from his midsection. They were stained in blood.
Sorry for the delay, but something big happens next chapter...so stay tuned!
In a dark building in the middle of the meatpacking district of LA, there was a man. He was quite ordinary. Average looks, average height. He just looked like any other man you may see on the street. As he entered a warehouse turned apartment complex, he grinned. Sometimes manipulating people was the most fun he could have, on conjunction with creating havoc of course.
Esther chewed on her thumbnail, wondering why she had caught herself up in such a mess. She had just had to get herself mixed up in this. Apparently the manuscript known as the Prophetica was not a collection of writings from different prophets as had been previously thought, but one long winding tale that seemed to talk about betrayal, miracles, and of course the ending or saving of the world. It was funny how Wesley wasn't too worried about the last one.
LA's summer sun warmed her face and she sighed. Sometimes she wondered why she had even started this project. There were lots of things she could have been doing, like writing her thesis, but she didn't want to think about that. Her phone vibrated. Sighing, she pulled it out.
"Hello?" she said her voice weary. The caller was her younger sister. They talked for a bit before Esther had to go. Other duties were calling. She had to get back home to her Great Uncle, after all, his nurse only worked from nine to four. Sometimes, she wondered why she did it, why she cared. Then it all made sense to her, family was family. You didn't mess family up.
And yet, she wanted to, so badly. Or maybe not. She loved what she did, she loved mysteries and puzzles and everything that could be included in her kind of work. But she didn't love the spotlight it put her in with her family. In the next couple of years she'd be the next housewife. She would have 3.2 kids and a husband who was a doctor or a lawyer or a rabbi. Her parents weren't too picky at the moment.
Standing, Esther went to bid goodbye until the next day. She had to get home and take of the family she had now.
Cordelia walked into Angel's room without knocking. Angel didn't even bother trying to stop her. He knew she'd just do it again the next day. She smiled at the vampire and sat next to him on the bed.
"I heard you made cookies with JP," Cordelia stated.
Angel looked up, "We needed something to do," he told the ex-cheerleader.
Cordelia observed him for a moment. She wondered how he could be so nonchalant about baking cookies with a five-year-old. Most of the guys she had dated would have never done such a thing, and if they had, they would never have admitted it to her.
"So you're admitting that you made cookies with JP?" Cordelia verified. Angel nodded. "That's so cute!" Cordelia squealed.
Angel looked up from his book, "If you say so. We needed something to do," he looked down again.
Cordelia nodded as she heard the sound of JP running by, a larger person after him. "Do you ever wonder what it would be like if Connor had stayed here?" she asked, leaning her head on Angel's shoulder. She sighed wistfully.
Angel put his book on his lap as he wrapped an arm around the woman. "All the time," he admitted. "But Doyle, he did a good job, Connor isn't permanently scarred for life. Or I hope not."
Cordelia allowed herself to smile slightly; "But sometimes I still wish…" she trailed off. Cordelia did not know how to put how she felt into words.
Angel kissed her forehead, "I know, I know," he told her. And they stayed like that.
Dawn led Mercedes up the path of 1630 Revello Drive. Making a motion for the other girl to stay quiet, Dawn opened the door and allowed Mercedes in.
"That you 'Bit?" Spike called from the living room.
"Yup," Dawns said, pushing the other girl into the kitchen and out of the clear view of the living room.
"The Watcher was looking for you, you know why?" Spike asked, walking over to her.
Dawn raised an eyebrow, "No," she then looked at him sweetly. "I didn't do anything wrong, honest. I'm home early for god sakes."
Spike imitated her by raising an eyebrow. "Didn't do anything wrong huh? Than how come I smell alcohol on your breath." He sniffed, "Rum perhaps?"
Dawn didn't say anything, but instead gave him large innocent eyes. They engaged in a staring match. Spike was unsure about what Dawn had been doing, and Dawn was trying her best to convince Spike that everything was perfectly fine. It seemed to be going in Dawn's favor when Mercedes walked in.
"Who made the cookies?" Mercedes walked into the hall, a half-eaten chocolate chip cookie in her hand. She brushed a few crumbs off her mouth with her other hand.
"Dawn, who is this?" Tara said as she walked over. Turning to Mercedes she smiled, "I made them."
Mercedes smiled, she liked this new person. "I'm Mercedes," she nodded before turning and going back into the kitchen for more cookies.
Spike blinked, "Dawn do you know who that is?" he said.
Dawn nodded, "That would be Mercedes," she smiled and walked into the kitchen, following her new friend's lead.
Sputtering, Spike followed, intent on telling his Lil Bit exactly who this Mercedes was. Tara trailed behind him, confused at what was going on.
"Now you listen here, I want to know why you are here and who you are. I wanted to know five minutes ago. Do you hear me?" Spike folded his arms and looked at Mercedes, who was finishing off her second cookie.
The girl looked at him. "Does he do this much?" she asked Dawn. She nodded, and Mercedes smiled. "Well then. News flash, I have a few things to tell you. One, You aren't my daddy. Two, I've gone through things you can't even imagine. Three, the eighties are over. Anything else?" she gave him a sweet smile, reaching for yet another cookie.
"Doesn't answer my questions," Spike said after a few minutes.
Tara, seeing that this would be going no where, intervened. "Look, Mercedes, Spike just wants to know who you are, that's it. We're not trying to make your life difficult."
Mercedes put down her cookie, he eyes cloudy and dark. "I'm Mercedes. And that's all I know about myself. I'm looking for a kid, a werewolf, by the name of Jordan Paul Osbourne. And your buddy here knows something, he's just not telling."
Tara nodded, understanding. "Okay, Spike, why don't you answer he questions. She answered yours," she compromised.
Spike crossed and uncrossed his arms. "Jeepers, Jordan Paul Osbourne, is safe. Where, I don't know. But he's with family."
Mercedes' eyes grew even darker than before, looking almost black against her pale skin. "You know, it would be for him to be safe with family when I'm the only type he has."
Spike snorted, "You aren't his father," he smirked, thinking he had won.
Mercedes looked unimpressed. "And I'm not the one who left him with bastards who were happy torturing kids for their own sick pleasure."
When he heard that bit of information, Spike pale considerably and his facial expressions softened. "You're one of them," he said gently.
Mercedes didn't flinch at the revelation that he had. "There were more of ups. How many, I don't know. Who they were, I don't know that either. But there was another, along with JP, and we're family."
Connor stood in front of the door of the Oz and JP's room. What Oz had said a few days ago wouldn't leave him along. Letting out a deep breath, he knocked.
"Come in," Oz called out. He was sitting on his bed with Wesley's laptop sitting in front of him. Currently he was trying to clean it up; the last virus has left it in one giant mess.
"Hey," Connor stood at the door, leaning against the frame. "I was wondering if I could, you know, borrow the leash a few days ago." The teen could feel the blush rising to his cheeks, although he did not know why.
Not even looking up towards the embarrassed teen, Oz pointed to the top drawer of the dresser. Connor found it on the left. It was one of those child leashed that criss-crossed the chest and the back.
"Thanks," Connor said as he walked out of the room and down the hall to his own room. As he opened the door, his eyes flickered over to his desk. Upon it laid a coil of steel. Connor grinned. "Doyle always said I was good with my hands," he told himself. Shutting the door behind him, the teen got to work.
A man in his apart whistled, that fact in itself wasn't strange. What he was doing while whistling made everything strange. He was sharpening a knife that was way too ornate to even belong as decoration for the dingy apartment.
The man stood and walked over to what appeared to be a closet door. Opening it, he smiled. In the corner farthest away from the door, a little girl huddled in a ball. "Hello my sweet," the man hissed.
She looked up; her crystal blue eyes shone with unshed tears. As the man came towards her, his knife ready to strike, she made a mewling sound. It was almost an attempted a pleading, but not quite. The man made quick work with his pretty little weapon. The shallow cut on the girl's stomach started to bleed. By that time, the tears that had threatened to fall were making clean streaks in the otherwise dirty face.
"Excellent," the man told his captive. The wound had started scabbing over. A pool of a dark sticky substance
Mercedes was still glaring at Spike when there was a pain in her stomach. Crying out, she hunched over, her ponytail hanging limply to the side. The pain hurt so much, so much, and she blacked out.
In the Hyperion, JP stopped what he was doing and whimpered pitifully.
Kieran looked up from her book, eyes sharp, "What's wrong?" she asked.
"Hurts," JP mumbled between whimpering. He was holding his stomach tightly.
Kieran stood and walked over to him, "Lemme see?" she asked, crouching. After he nodded, she pried his hands away from his midsection. They were stained in blood.
Sorry for the delay, but something big happens next chapter...so stay tuned!