A/N: remember this is a/u, so go with it.
As he stares in shock at his hand, Angel is only sure of one thing. He needs to feed. Now.
He hasn't felt the hunger like this in years. And he doesn't know why. And his back is bleeding down his spine into the waistband of his pants. And that's not a good thing.
He grabs the bottle that he has left sitting on one of the tables next to his bed, and glugs it down. Notices something, and lowers the bottle slowly to eye level.
Human blood O positive strain 6a78877
For test use only.
"Ow!" comes the cry as the blond man in the white coat is thrown up against the wall of the blood bank. He swipes at the trickle of liquid running into his mouth from his newly broken nose, and looks around, expecting another hit.
A face full of angry vampire is what he gets.
"Explain this." A glass bottle with red residue left inside swims into the man's view, and he tries to focus on what the livid demon in front of him wants him to say.
"Well, it's a bottle of human blood. Just like the others I sold…gave you a few days ago."
Angel shakes his head, and spits out, "No. Not like the others. This says something about test use only. And it has a 'strain number' on it. What does that mean? What the hell are you doing to me? All of the bottles I got this week say the same thing. Get explainy. Now."
The man slowly slumps to the pavement, and Angel follows, clutching the bottle and trying to contain his rage. He can feel him there, just below the surface, and screaming to get out.
"We got some of this stuff donated. Anonymous. They just said to give it to you when you came to get your stuff. We didn't ask questions, they gave us a lot of money, you know?"
Angel stills, absorbing what the bank lacky has just said. "Anonymous? I find that extremely hard to believe. Especially some organization who is willing to give you money, without any kind of acknowledgement? Take me inside. Show me the records."
He pulls the man up by his collar, and marches him in the back door.
While the unfortunate blood bank employee sleeps on the floor, Angel reads and rereads the documents found for him by the blond man.
Human blood O positive strain 6a78877
For test use only
Experimental hormone number 19995 type r- rage.
Use with extreme caution.
This report property of Wolfram and Hart science division.
Do not remove from lab.
He stares out at the city, trying to piece it all together.
The Watchers council, in town, knowing about him, at the same time some demony law firm practically raises Angelus from the depths? Not a coincidence.
And the tattoo? He figures it bled due to whatever stuff the lab had put in the blood he drank.
Question is…what's the agenda here? And why is Wolfram and Hart targeting him? And who the hell are they anyway?
Now.
"Okay, what the hell? The council was looking at the Hellmouth back in the fifties? Giles never mentioned that," I state, pacing now, the pj shirt of Angel's that I'm wearing flapping behind me.
"And…they had stun guns? Then? Okay, I think it might be time for a transatlantic phone call."
I stride toward the phone, but Angel's there, his hand over mine, before I can pick up the reciever.
"Buffy. Don't. Let me finish," Angel tells me, and I sigh, turning back to him. "What's all this have to do with your tattoo?" I say. "It's a great story, but I'm failing to see where you're going with it."
"I'm almost there, just bear with me, okay? You asked, remember?"
"Yeah, yeah," I grumble, then follows him back to the couch. "So, Wolfram and Hart and the Watchers council in town. And…?"
Then.
Flying kicks followed by punching. He's good at that. The operatives back up, trying to contain him, but it's not working. He's too fast and too angry. Which is ironic to him, considering he's there to figure out why they want him so angry.
"Grab him! Stun him! Come on, hurry it up." The operatives shout at each other, trying to rally against the frantic vampire.
Angel throws a punch at one, and snarls as the man grabs him by the elbow. "Let go, idiot. Give me the answers I want and I might let you live."
He realizes that his rage is running in overdrive, even though he had dumped the blood that had the hormone in it out. Weirdly enough, his emotions have gotten wilder in the few days its been since he had the tainted stuff. And that's not good, for him or the Council operatives he's trying to get information out of.
A scream of fury assaults his ears, and he's suddenly all over them, hitting, kicking, breaking limbs. He stops only when the wail is the only noise he can hear.
One lone operative stands facing him, with his hands clapped over his ears. Angel shuts his mouth, and the scream stops suddenly.
He takes a step toward the man, and he drops his weapon, putting his hands in the air.
"Look! Angelus, I don't want to die for the council, so I'll tell you everything! Just don't hurt me," he sobs out, and Angel walks slowly to him, trying to keep his alter ego hidden as long as he can. Not easy when he's being called by name.
"What's your connection with Wolfram and Hart? And what do they want with Angelus?"
"Nothing we can't get from you ourselves, considering the council has proven so inept."
They both turn at the sound of the new voice. A solitary man enters the space, and seems out of place among the unconcious bodies in his pressed suit and with his briefcase.
"…and you are?" Angel states, hands shaking with barely contained fury. Who cares Angel lets take him comes the voice inside, and he shakes his head, trying to push it down.
"I'm Holland Manners. Pleasure to finally meet you."
TBC.