How had they found him? Who were they and what did they want? Jay
could imagine what they wanted but why now after so much time? All his
years of hiding, wandering, running had been wearing on him but he could
never afford to stay in one place too long. His friends would notice that
he never aged, inevitably questions started being asked, and Jay would move
on.
He could feel voices, his tribesmen a continent away, inside his head,
telling him to come home but Jay wasn't stupid. He knew the price on his
head. His people knew he was still alive but they hadn't found him.
They weren't even looking really. When he was ready to come, he would come
and not before. So who were these new people that had found him? What did
the un-dead want with him? Quickly, he headed towards the outskirts of
town. He had to get out of this town, out of this state would be preferable
but Jay didn't have much money. He never could hold a job but for so long
and most people only hired teenagers for minimum wage. Perhaps if they knew
Jay was so much more, but he couldn't exactly tell them that. Tugging at
his baggy jeans, Jay ran, knowing his trackers weren't far behind.
*** It was always raining in this bleeding town. Once more, the night became not only cold but also wet. The wet that made the air so thick and moist you thought you would choke venturing outside. Reclining lazily in a chair by the fire, he glanced warily at the door wondering how many more moments of peace he had till his Father came home. Peace what? He rebuked himself. It's hardly peace at all if I sit hear fretting the entire time is it? At 20, Liam still had a fearful respect of his father's wrath. Finding this town a bore, the young lad often went "gallivanting about" as his Father put it. Liam disagreed. He was just having a bit of fun. He was here wasn't he? He took care of the family when Father was at work. What mattered it what he did during his free time. That was the problem wasn't it. Free time, his father thought he had too much of it. Who needed studies anyway? He would never seen anything but this stupid town, so what good did learning do him? Sighing, he went to his sisters room, kissed her sleeping form lightly on the forehead then headed towards the door to take his leave before the old man came home. To late. His Father stood in the doorway. He had the look about him this gloomy evening, the one that told son in no uncertain terms how disgusted he was to see him. Of course, he had the look any evening that brought him into his son's company.
"Liam." He said stiffly.
"Father" Angelus returned dutifully. The pause was palpable.
"So you're sober tonight are you?"
And don't I wish I weren't. Maybe then I might get a beating but it would be attention from you, he thought. He avoided his father's gaze.
"Mother isn't feeling well so I've been the night babysitting."
His father took off his coat and hung it on the rack. Without even a cutting remark about his son, the man passed by him to the bedroom he shared with his wife. That brought the evening to an end Liam knew. Everyone would sleep the night away but he wanted excitement! His thoughts turned to Claire. She was a quiet one who longed to be a wild one. Always a dutiful daughter, she tired of it and found Liam to be just the type she needed. This didn't bother Liam for Claire was a beautiful lass with a sweet spirit. He had taught her well about doing things that caused her poor mother to weep. She had found a perfect match in the troublesome lad. He was falling for the lass, he knew. A yawn forced itself on him and he rubbed his eyes wearily. ***
"Angel wake up!!" a voice was saying. "Angel! Angel wake up!"
Groggily, Angel opened his eyes. A pretty young brunette stood over him. Her expression strained and annoyed.
"Hello? Anybody home?"
Yawning, Angel struggled to come awake. "Cordelia," he warned. "This had better be important."
She huffed. "Sorry Mr. Sunshine, but if I have to get the visions, you have to deal with them too." Doyle had been the one to get the visions before, yet another long story, but since his death, Cordelia had been gifted ( she said cursed) with The Sight. Doyle's death and Cordelia's subsequent visions was one of many long, and painful life stories she had experienced since moving to L.A. She thrust a piece of paper into his face with one hand, and smoothing her hair with the other.
Claire Pre-dawn, Starlit Park
Was scrawled on a bright pink post-it heart
Angel shrugged on his jacket, his mind a jumble of thoughts. Claire. There's a person he hadn't thought about it decades. Living on the Hell mouth had trained him well, otherwise he would have dismissed the note and dream as coincidence but a nagging feeling told him differently. Angel's job description, best that he could figure it, was nothing less than hero for the World, or at least L.A. The Powers That Be, whoever they were, had decided Angel's atonement for 200 some odd years of rampaging Europe as heartless, soulless, murdering vampire was to help those in distress. Cordelia received the vision of those in need, and Angel helped them. He accepted his penance, not gladly, but tolerantly. He wanted, needed, a chance to make up to the world his horrendous deeds. He didn't know when enough heroic efforts would be enough, but for now, he kept on keeping on. For the hundreth time, he read the few hastily written words on the bright pink post-it. How was this possible? Claire was dead. Over 200 years rotted in the ground. At least Cordelia had given him the note at nighttime. He wouldn't have to take the sewer. Normally, the sewers didn't bother him that much but tonight; he felt the need for fresh air. Why exactly, he didn't know because Vampires, as a rule, don't breathe.
The sun's rays were becoming visible now, expressing their arrival in pastel shades of yellow and pink against a lightening sky. Soon the clearing where Claire was to be came into view. It was odd actually, to see a piece of land in L.A. that didn't have some sort of structure built on it. This was a park area at the end of a cul-de-sac. The place was deserted. Pale not -quite-morning light illuminated the area, casting tortured shadows on the ground. There was absolutely no wind, and pre-dawn silence hung like a veil. Violence tore the veil to pieces as Angel was jumped from behind. Immediately, he began twisting and jerking trying to throw off his attacker. The shadows began writhing, splitting in two, becoming flesh and moving to attack the lone Vampire. As the sun rose higher in the sky, streaks of light filtered thru the trees, catching one of the attackers dead to rights. With a scream, he burst into flames. Angel relaxed his body. Uncertain with his prey's sudden surrender, his attacker's grip loosened. Seizing the moment, Angel spun around and flipped the surprised creature's body into a stream of light. It exploded. The other attackers realized the uselessness of further fighting and faded back into the shadows. Angel stood standing in the shade of a tree, narrowly avoided the direct sunlight that was now beginning it's obnoxious reign of day. What was that all about? For the first time, he noticed a figure huddled by a bench. The boy was scared stiff. He was wearing close that were dressed like a typical teenager with baggy jeans and oversized shirt. Angel was surprised by his delicate features and enormous blue eyes., like the ocean on a stormy day. He could almost feel himself floating in the water.
"I suggest you run home as fast as you can." He said.
Not needing to be told twice, the boy stood up and ran. Vague whisperings caused Angel to glance around but there was nothing there.
Vanished. Angel blinked and shook his head but indeed, the boy was gone. One minute he was running, the next minute only empty space. He must have just dodged behind a tree while you weren't looking and snuck out. Not likely. Searching the park and streets he listened intently for the sound of a door to one of the townhouses closing, heavy breathing, shoes hitting pavement, any sound indicating the boy. All was silent. Even the intruders had dissolved into shadows and wind. That should have ended the situation but Angel had an instinct that more had happened here. Where was Claire?
*** It was always raining in this bleeding town. Once more, the night became not only cold but also wet. The wet that made the air so thick and moist you thought you would choke venturing outside. Reclining lazily in a chair by the fire, he glanced warily at the door wondering how many more moments of peace he had till his Father came home. Peace what? He rebuked himself. It's hardly peace at all if I sit hear fretting the entire time is it? At 20, Liam still had a fearful respect of his father's wrath. Finding this town a bore, the young lad often went "gallivanting about" as his Father put it. Liam disagreed. He was just having a bit of fun. He was here wasn't he? He took care of the family when Father was at work. What mattered it what he did during his free time. That was the problem wasn't it. Free time, his father thought he had too much of it. Who needed studies anyway? He would never seen anything but this stupid town, so what good did learning do him? Sighing, he went to his sisters room, kissed her sleeping form lightly on the forehead then headed towards the door to take his leave before the old man came home. To late. His Father stood in the doorway. He had the look about him this gloomy evening, the one that told son in no uncertain terms how disgusted he was to see him. Of course, he had the look any evening that brought him into his son's company.
"Liam." He said stiffly.
"Father" Angelus returned dutifully. The pause was palpable.
"So you're sober tonight are you?"
And don't I wish I weren't. Maybe then I might get a beating but it would be attention from you, he thought. He avoided his father's gaze.
"Mother isn't feeling well so I've been the night babysitting."
His father took off his coat and hung it on the rack. Without even a cutting remark about his son, the man passed by him to the bedroom he shared with his wife. That brought the evening to an end Liam knew. Everyone would sleep the night away but he wanted excitement! His thoughts turned to Claire. She was a quiet one who longed to be a wild one. Always a dutiful daughter, she tired of it and found Liam to be just the type she needed. This didn't bother Liam for Claire was a beautiful lass with a sweet spirit. He had taught her well about doing things that caused her poor mother to weep. She had found a perfect match in the troublesome lad. He was falling for the lass, he knew. A yawn forced itself on him and he rubbed his eyes wearily. ***
"Angel wake up!!" a voice was saying. "Angel! Angel wake up!"
Groggily, Angel opened his eyes. A pretty young brunette stood over him. Her expression strained and annoyed.
"Hello? Anybody home?"
Yawning, Angel struggled to come awake. "Cordelia," he warned. "This had better be important."
She huffed. "Sorry Mr. Sunshine, but if I have to get the visions, you have to deal with them too." Doyle had been the one to get the visions before, yet another long story, but since his death, Cordelia had been gifted ( she said cursed) with The Sight. Doyle's death and Cordelia's subsequent visions was one of many long, and painful life stories she had experienced since moving to L.A. She thrust a piece of paper into his face with one hand, and smoothing her hair with the other.
Claire Pre-dawn, Starlit Park
Was scrawled on a bright pink post-it heart
Angel shrugged on his jacket, his mind a jumble of thoughts. Claire. There's a person he hadn't thought about it decades. Living on the Hell mouth had trained him well, otherwise he would have dismissed the note and dream as coincidence but a nagging feeling told him differently. Angel's job description, best that he could figure it, was nothing less than hero for the World, or at least L.A. The Powers That Be, whoever they were, had decided Angel's atonement for 200 some odd years of rampaging Europe as heartless, soulless, murdering vampire was to help those in distress. Cordelia received the vision of those in need, and Angel helped them. He accepted his penance, not gladly, but tolerantly. He wanted, needed, a chance to make up to the world his horrendous deeds. He didn't know when enough heroic efforts would be enough, but for now, he kept on keeping on. For the hundreth time, he read the few hastily written words on the bright pink post-it. How was this possible? Claire was dead. Over 200 years rotted in the ground. At least Cordelia had given him the note at nighttime. He wouldn't have to take the sewer. Normally, the sewers didn't bother him that much but tonight; he felt the need for fresh air. Why exactly, he didn't know because Vampires, as a rule, don't breathe.
The sun's rays were becoming visible now, expressing their arrival in pastel shades of yellow and pink against a lightening sky. Soon the clearing where Claire was to be came into view. It was odd actually, to see a piece of land in L.A. that didn't have some sort of structure built on it. This was a park area at the end of a cul-de-sac. The place was deserted. Pale not -quite-morning light illuminated the area, casting tortured shadows on the ground. There was absolutely no wind, and pre-dawn silence hung like a veil. Violence tore the veil to pieces as Angel was jumped from behind. Immediately, he began twisting and jerking trying to throw off his attacker. The shadows began writhing, splitting in two, becoming flesh and moving to attack the lone Vampire. As the sun rose higher in the sky, streaks of light filtered thru the trees, catching one of the attackers dead to rights. With a scream, he burst into flames. Angel relaxed his body. Uncertain with his prey's sudden surrender, his attacker's grip loosened. Seizing the moment, Angel spun around and flipped the surprised creature's body into a stream of light. It exploded. The other attackers realized the uselessness of further fighting and faded back into the shadows. Angel stood standing in the shade of a tree, narrowly avoided the direct sunlight that was now beginning it's obnoxious reign of day. What was that all about? For the first time, he noticed a figure huddled by a bench. The boy was scared stiff. He was wearing close that were dressed like a typical teenager with baggy jeans and oversized shirt. Angel was surprised by his delicate features and enormous blue eyes., like the ocean on a stormy day. He could almost feel himself floating in the water.
"I suggest you run home as fast as you can." He said.
Not needing to be told twice, the boy stood up and ran. Vague whisperings caused Angel to glance around but there was nothing there.
Vanished. Angel blinked and shook his head but indeed, the boy was gone. One minute he was running, the next minute only empty space. He must have just dodged behind a tree while you weren't looking and snuck out. Not likely. Searching the park and streets he listened intently for the sound of a door to one of the townhouses closing, heavy breathing, shoes hitting pavement, any sound indicating the boy. All was silent. Even the intruders had dissolved into shadows and wind. That should have ended the situation but Angel had an instinct that more had happened here. Where was Claire?