CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Memories hurt.
He took out picture #13 and stared at the funny face he made at the camera. What in the world was he doing sticking out his tongue at the camera? He did strange things back then. The Wesley now wouldn't even have the time, nor the inclination, to have that much fun.
He let #13 go and watch it float gently down.
"Hey, what are you doing there?"
Surprised, Wesley turned to see a security guard shining a light at him.
"Oh shit. A jumper. Look mister, whatever it is you're thinking about, it's not worth jumping okay?" the man took out his walkie talkie and muttered something into it.
Wesley merely shrugged and returned his gaze to the street below.
Strange how small everything looked fifty stories up.
Picture #14 was a picture of his apartment. He turned it and saw a hastily written scrawl: "Shit happens"
He chuckled and put it aside.
He must've taken it when he returned from the hospital that day, alone and abandoned.
"Hey, er, look I'm going to get help, okay?"
Wesley shrugged.
"Great, great. You just stay there, 'k? Just wonderful," he heard the man mutter to himself. "Friday night and I get a jumper. I need another job."
Soon, he was alone with the stars, and the air.
Wesley breathed deeply and closed his eyes. At times like these, he could imagine that his life had turned out differently. His most persistent fantasy was of him as an English teacher in some indistinct high school, with a wife, kids and a Golden Retriever. The fantasy was comforting, too comforting, and sometimes he realised that he drifted away so much that he lost hours.
It frightened him how much he had changed. Looking at the photos did not ease the pain of his change. He wanted to be that silly old Wesley again, despite his ineffectiveness and idiocy. At least back then he had Cordelia and Angel.
When he opened his eyes, he realised that his cheeks were wet.
Oh, this wouldn't do. Crying like a pansy-assed British guy – like Gunn used to say.
But he made no effort to wipe them away.
Look father. I'm embracing my destiny. The destiny you tried to prevent me from having by having me binded. I never did blame you for it. But I don't care now. I believe if I saw you now, I would burn you – even if it hurt so much now
Koskov's spell was powerful. He remembered the sensation of needles in his lungs when he fell into the water enchanted with the Element of Water. With two warring Elements in his body, he was falling apart, dying a little at a time, day by day. His sanity was unravelling faster than before. Lucidity was a luxury, reserved for quiet moments like this.
In those moments where he lost himself, life went by on a strange, twisted logic. His reasoning was skewed to one focus: to purify. And during those hazy, mad times, he knew what he needed to do. What grand mission it was that he was given to do. But the moment he came to himself, it all faded away and everything that he thought was logical before, became insanity.
He wasn't sure if it was the Element controlling him or whether a part of him that was controlling the Element. Maybe there existed something in him, something dark and twisted, that relished the power the Element gave to him.
He wouldn't know.
"Hey."
He turned to see a man – casually dressed with a cop's badge at his belt. Wesley merely gave him a blank look.
"My name's Roger," the man volunteered. He looked amiable, eager to please.
"I'm Wesley," he replied.
"Well," Roger hunkered down a safe distance away from him. "Care to tell me what this is all about?"
Wesley gave him a small smile. "I'm taking a bit of fresh air." It was the truth.
"Where are you from? Certainly not from around here."
Another small smile. "My family moved a lot. But my ancestral home is in Wales."
"Ancestral huh?"
"It's at Golaghun Manor."
Roger lifted his eyebrows, clearly impressed.
"Passed down for six generations." Wesley returned his gaze to the LA skyline. "I'm the seventh."
"Look, I'm here to help you," Roger said after a while. "I know things must be hard for you."
"You have no idea how hard, Roger," Wesley murmured.
"This is not worth it."
"It is," Wesley nodded.
"Tell me what happened," Roger said.
"My best friend tried to kill me. I had a slit throat and he covered my face with a pillow and smothered me. Then my friends abandoned me." Wesley told him casually. His voice sounded robotic to his ears. "Funny, I don't seem to feel anything right now."
That made the cop a little mad somehow. "Did they nab him?"
Wesley shrugged.
Roger caught sight of the pile of photos by his side.
"And that is?"
"Memories to throw," he volunteered.
"Ah. Maybe you can show me the pictures? Tell me something about them."
"What part of 'memories to throw' that you didn't understand?"
"Look. I'm going to cut to the chase here. Jumping, throwing your life away isn't worth it."
Wesley returned his gaze to Roger and tilted his head.
"What makes you think I'm here to jump?"
Roger lifted his eyebrows – took in the sight of him perched on the precarious ledge of the building – and then said: "You telling me you're just taking a breath of fresh air?"
"That's partly the truth."
"And the other part?"
Suddenly, Wesley's hand shot out to grasp Roger's in a vise-like grip. The man gasped, his eyes became round with alarm as he unsuccessfully tried to pull his hand away.
"I was waiting here for you. Roger," Wesley smiled, his eyes glinting in the dim moonlight.
"Henry! Henry, the guy's nuts!" Roger called out, scrabbling backwards.
Wesley sensed people behind Roger running towards them. He narrowed his eyes and pulled Roger towards him.
"You may fool them, but you do not fool me," Wesley hissed. The Element of Fire roared into being – but with a sickening lurch, it retreated. It made Wesley dizzy, and he felt the warm trickle of blood trailing from his nose.
"Let me go you sick f-"
"Where is she?"
"Let me go!"
"Roger! Oh shit! He's got a grip on him!" Running footsteps. "No hold up! HE could jump!"
"Where is she?!"
"Look, I don't know what you're talking-"
The Element of Fire struggled to come forth and for a while it succeeded, appearing in Wesley's eyes. Wesley disappeared – it was the Element now.
As his eyes began to glow, Roger's eyes widened more and more. He grimaced – then his grimace slowly curved into a sly smile.
Their eyes met, and there was no more pretence.
"ROGER!!"
The Element turned. It saw the one called Henry reaching with a hand towards the Beast, and the Element knew that the Beast would reach out for that hand only to pull the human to his death. Just for spite, just like what they were born to do. The Element couldn't care less about the loss of human life. But his persona, the one called Wesley, cared. So it did what Wesley would want. He pulled the Beast away from Henry.
"Oh my god! Roger!!" Henry screamed.
They fell, but the Element/Wesley clasped the body of the Beast to him, making sure that it won't flee. He could only stare at Henry's anguished face as they fell slowly fifty stories down, wondering: Why does one weep for the Beast?
Wesley closed his eyes as the ground came to meet them.
* * * *
"I see," said Giles - his biggest understatement yet. Even Willow had to take a seat to process everything that Angel, and then Connor told them.
Angel had a son? With his sire Darla? Cordelia is a half-demon and is now missing? Wesley stole the baby, and Holtz, a man centuries dead and resurrected by a demon, stole it from Wesley who in turn got his throat slit by Justine, a Holtz minion. And then Holtz took Connor into a hell dimension where the boy grew up into a moody 18-year-old. After which he returns to the world he was born – two weeks after he was stolen.
"Did anyone keep a timeline?" Willow asked no one in particular.
Connor's story was at least, more 'down to earth' so to speak. Apparently Wesley decided to save a businessman's two daughters from a powerful sorcerer/vampire. It backfired badly because Wesley fell into Koskov's trap.
Literally.
"One moment we were in the warehouse facing Koskov and the twin daughters, the next moment the floor fell apart and we were swimming." Connor's eyes darkened at the memory. "I swam out easily enough, but Wesley …"
CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT
A WEEK AGO
Wesley broke the surface of the water again, his breath coming in desperate gasps. Connor caught sight of frightened blue eyes before they sank beneath the clear water.
Connor didn't understand what was wrong. The pool was shallow – barely six feet deep – it should be an easy swim – but Wesley acted as if he was drowning in an ocean.
"Wesley! Swim up!" he yelled.
"Don't bother young man," drawled the vampire, coming towards him without a fear in his old bones. "The Element of Water and the Element of Fire are fighting for control over his body. I think it's a little painful for him to bother with your calls."
Ignoring Koskov, Connor dove into the pool andeasily got hold of Wesley. When he finally pulled the ex-Watcher out of the pool, Wesley could only lie on his side, gasping and coughing. Connor was shocked to see blood flowing freely from his nose and from the corner of his lips.
"Wesley …" he whispered, touching him tentatively. At his touch, Wesley shivered, pulling his knees to his chest. His eyes rolled back until only the whites of his eyes showed. To his horror, Connor saw Wesley's eyes turning red as the capillaries in his eyes burst.
"What did you do to him?" Connor hissed. But he did not get an answer. Instead, Koskov punched him.
Startled, Connor fell back hard. When his vision cleared, two identical blonde girls were looking down at him. This must be the man's daughters. The daughters that Wesley went to so much trouble for.
"Not so brave now, are you?" Koskov mocked. He appeared beside the girls stroking their long blonde hair with his hands.
"Shirley! Chloe!"
Koskov whirled to see Swanson running towards them recklessly, his eyes fixed only on his daughters.
"Hmm. I nearly forgot the man," Koskov murmured.
Koskov only watched as Swanson embraced his daughters, who only stood strangely still.
Connor took that moment to stand up. It was then that he realised what had happened to the girls.
Quickly, ignoring Koskov, he lunged towards Swanson and separated him from them. He pulled Swanson a safe distance away, but he made it difficult, struggling and protesting all the way.
"Shut up!" he finally yelled, his eyes still on Koskov and the twin girls. "They're not your daughters anymore!"
"What are you talking about?" Swanson said, his voice rising to a desperate plea. He was sweating profusely, his whole body trembling. "They're there, they're there!"
One of the girls took a step forward and smiled at Swanson. "Daddy. You took a long time to come. I was so hungry. And scared," she said. She looked confused and scared.
"Oh Chloe, I tried, I –"
And ridges formed on Chloe's forehead as she smiled her fang-filled smile.
"But I'm not now," Chloe sang, her childish voice so out of place with the monster they saw before him. "I'm happy now. But I'm still hungry. And Shirley wasn't enough."
Connor shot a look towards the other girl. He finally took in her unhealthy appearance, the dark circles under her eyes and the blankness in them. She was still alive. Somehow Koskov kept her alive. Enraged, he met Koskov's eyes.
"What can I say. I like the romantic notion of a pair of twins – separated by the wide gulf of immortality. One, an evil beauty, kissed by eternity-"
Chloe smiled, her face still hideous.
"-the other," he murmured, running his hands down Shirley's long hair, "-condemned to rot by her sister's hands…"
"NO!!" Swanson screamed in anguish, falling to his knees. "No, no, no, no…" he whimpered, covering his face with shaky hands.
Koskov smiled at Connor. "I know what you're thinking now. You're thinking that you can take me. That because you have the strength of a Slayer, you can dust me. And I'm all alone here."
Connor merely glowered.
"But I'm not just a vampire. I-" Suddenly, his expression changed to one of surprise. His mouth curved into a surprised "O" and he disappeared into a cloud of dust.
"But you talk too much," said Wesley, holding a stake in his hands.
Connor smiled at Wesley gladly - even though the man still looked a mess. Blood still flowed from his nose, and his eyes were still blood-red, the pupils barely visible.
"Chloe-" Swanson reached for his daughter, who merely growled at him. She backed away from her father and cast Wesley a furtive glance.
Connor held the man back, then asked Wesley: "What are we going to do with her?"
Swanson sat back on his heels, staring vacantly at his vampire daughter. Shirley was still at the same spot she was beside Koskov, her empty expression unchanged. Now that he could see Shirley up close, he could see raw bite marks on her neck – it was partially hidden by her long hair. Connor felt a twinge of pain at the sight of the girl. He cannot imagine the pain she had been going through the past few weeks, witnessing her sister's death and her awakening … he even felt guilty when he remembered telling Wesley to not go to their rescue … but he was used to pain, having lived in a hell dimension. Sometimes, one has to go through pain for the bigger picture.
When the man did not respond, Connor frowned and asked, "Wesley?"
"Why must *everyone* look at me for answers?" Wesley murmured, his voice taking on an annoyed tone. "They never appreciate me for my efforts, you know," he said, his voice low with sadness. "It's always, 'Wesley what do you know?' or 'Wesley, we need your help'."
Wesley's bloody eyes moistened and a bloody tear trickled down his cheek. "They even asked for my help after they told me never to come back. But *they* could come to me. Just don't come to us, we'll come to you!" he sang, then laughed.
"What are you talking about?"
"I'm talking about wasting time, that's what," he said. Then he began humming a tune, twirling the stake in his hand. "Wasting, wasting …"
Oh great, thought Connor. He's having a crazy episode. Wesley had been warning him about it.
"Look," Connor went to Wesley's side, "we have to get these people out of here."
They stared at each other. Connor felt the seconds tick by as Wesley weighed the decision he would've usually made in a snap.
"No," Wesley said playfully. With that, he tapped Connor's chest with a finger.
Connor did not expect the strength behind that simple tap. He found himself flying into the pool, crashing through the surface painfully. He swam up quickly, sputtering his surprise. By the time he came up, Wesley was gone, the only mark of his presence the fading laughter from a distance.
* * *
"When I saw what he did on TV later, I knew that he had gone over the edge. Big time," Connor said as he finished the story.
"What happened to the girl?"
All heads turned to Earl, who twitched at the scrutiny. "Hey I'm a demon, doesn't mean I don't have a heart," he protested.
"I dusted her," Connor said after a beat. "Swanson …" he sighed. "…begged me not to do it, so I had to lock him up in a closet with Shirley and … I dusted her," he shrugged. "It had to be done, you know."
"Yeah, I know how that feels," said Gunn from the doorway. "What's this? Some kinda white hat gathering?"
"He's dangerous sane. Now that' he's insane …" Giles sighed, then cast Gunn a distracted glance. "Hello," he murmured.
"What's this guy?" Gunn muttered, looking at Giles suspiciously. He turned to Angel for answers.
"Do you think we should?" Willow asked, ignoring Gunn's presence. Usually she wouldn't, but she was too rattled by everything that she has heard. Dealing with another apocalypse wasn't her idea of 'recovery time'.
Giles lifted a questioning eyebrow.
"Stop him I mean," Willow clarified.
Now it was her turn to be scrutinised. Willow nervously shifted in her seat but went on bravely.
"I-I mean, from what I read – and it's not that I'm like an expert on it or anything; I was just curious, you know like, that time I was reading the Encyclopedia of Witchcraft and I was at the letter E – what I mean is, I think they're like some kinda thing that is there. You know, they're not exactly bad guys."
"And you have that on record?" Gunn demanded.
"Uh-huh. Whystone's Witchcraft Compendium, and uh, hi," she said, giving him a sheepish smile and a wave.
"What does a bunch of scholar folk know anyway?" Gunn demanded, ignoring her friendly overture.
Giles cleared his throat, looking offended.
"Charles," Fred chided.
"I'm not sayin' sorry, not after what I saw," Gunn said, the set of his jaw firm. "Wesley – we gotta kill him, that's what I say."
"Charles, stop it. We're going to help him, aren't we Angel?" Fred asked, looking hopefully at the vampire.
Angel merely met her eyes without a word.
"Oh, like how he helped us when he stole Connor?"
"Let it rest already, big guy," Earl said, snorting.
Again, all eyes rested on Earl.
Earl shrugged uncomfortably, giving Willow a sheepish look. "I mean, I thought good guys forgive and everything. Sooorry if I'm wrong," he drawled.
"What did you see?" Angel asked quietly, ignoring Earl's words.
"Can't describe it. You gotta see it," at that, Gunn walked to the door, looking back just once to make sure Angel followed.
* * *
AT THE OFFICES OF WOLFRAM AND HART
"I see. Our client is very specific about this. Hmm … are you sure? Well, track him down, damnit! That's why we sacrificed two men for that spell!"
Lilah replaced the phone with a heavy sigh. She flicked her carefully coiffed hair irritably with a hand and tried her best to not look rattled.
"Sorcerers. The excuses they give …" she gave the client a perfect smile. "But don't worry, everything is going according to plan. The wheels are moving as we speak and the Elemental … well, let' just say we have the work done for us."
The client smiled.
* * *
"Wesley couldn't have done this," Fred said quietly.
There were too many people in the charred apartment. Somehow, the police have left, leaving the crime scene full of yellow tape criss-crossing the small place. Now they were clumsily barging into a crime scene. Giles and Willow kept their distance from the group, observing quietly.
It was an apartment in the low-end area of LA. The area was full of high rise apartments, catered to the lower middle class. Blue-collared folks; people with families… this area was full of families.
Angel's boot crunched on something. He carefully removed a boot. It was a charred Barbie Doll. A single blue eye, strangely untouched by the terrible fire, stared up at him.
"This is not the only thing he did, Fred," Gunn said stoicly. He moved ahead to the master bedroom, located at the far right. He stood at the door, jaw working as he stared inside.
"Figured that the cops got spooked by what they saw and left in a big hurry. Probably to hug their wife and kids back home. I would too," he met Fred's eyes meaningfully.
Angel stopped at the doorway and stared. Just two seconds later he was walking out, walking past Giles, Willow, Fred and Gunn.
"Angel? What?" Fred stared after the retreating figure in confusion. Hesitantly, she approached the room … and saw.
Her eyes teared and she covered her mouth with a trembling hand to keep herself from screaming - and throwing up.
"Oh my God," Willow whispered behind her.
The family had retreated into the bedroom, desperate to escape the threat that invaded their little apartment. The mother had held her baby to her chest in a vain attempt to protect it while the father stood before her and his two children – a boy and a girl who cowered behind his legs – bravely facing the monster that did this to them.
His bravery, however, did not disguise the agony in his face as he was burnt too death. The children were the same, their eyes wide open in terror, their mouths twisted in agony. Even the baby, so young and uncomprehending, had howled in silent pain.
Now, all that was left of them was ash. It had been so hot that the ash had fused, turning into some kind of glassy rock. Some bits of flesh, however, survived the inferno – the mother's face, turned into her baby's was still raw and black. A wisp of her hair fluttered in the slight breeze from the blasted windows.
"He's got to die," Gunn said quietly. "Because he's mad with power or some shit. And he doesn't care anymore."
Fred regained her composure and removed her hand from her mouth. An iciness crept into her heart where it once held regret and guilt for her former friend.
"Yeah. We've got to kill him," she said, her voice low.
Memories hurt.
He took out picture #13 and stared at the funny face he made at the camera. What in the world was he doing sticking out his tongue at the camera? He did strange things back then. The Wesley now wouldn't even have the time, nor the inclination, to have that much fun.
He let #13 go and watch it float gently down.
"Hey, what are you doing there?"
Surprised, Wesley turned to see a security guard shining a light at him.
"Oh shit. A jumper. Look mister, whatever it is you're thinking about, it's not worth jumping okay?" the man took out his walkie talkie and muttered something into it.
Wesley merely shrugged and returned his gaze to the street below.
Strange how small everything looked fifty stories up.
Picture #14 was a picture of his apartment. He turned it and saw a hastily written scrawl: "Shit happens"
He chuckled and put it aside.
He must've taken it when he returned from the hospital that day, alone and abandoned.
"Hey, er, look I'm going to get help, okay?"
Wesley shrugged.
"Great, great. You just stay there, 'k? Just wonderful," he heard the man mutter to himself. "Friday night and I get a jumper. I need another job."
Soon, he was alone with the stars, and the air.
Wesley breathed deeply and closed his eyes. At times like these, he could imagine that his life had turned out differently. His most persistent fantasy was of him as an English teacher in some indistinct high school, with a wife, kids and a Golden Retriever. The fantasy was comforting, too comforting, and sometimes he realised that he drifted away so much that he lost hours.
It frightened him how much he had changed. Looking at the photos did not ease the pain of his change. He wanted to be that silly old Wesley again, despite his ineffectiveness and idiocy. At least back then he had Cordelia and Angel.
When he opened his eyes, he realised that his cheeks were wet.
Oh, this wouldn't do. Crying like a pansy-assed British guy – like Gunn used to say.
But he made no effort to wipe them away.
Look father. I'm embracing my destiny. The destiny you tried to prevent me from having by having me binded. I never did blame you for it. But I don't care now. I believe if I saw you now, I would burn you – even if it hurt so much now
Koskov's spell was powerful. He remembered the sensation of needles in his lungs when he fell into the water enchanted with the Element of Water. With two warring Elements in his body, he was falling apart, dying a little at a time, day by day. His sanity was unravelling faster than before. Lucidity was a luxury, reserved for quiet moments like this.
In those moments where he lost himself, life went by on a strange, twisted logic. His reasoning was skewed to one focus: to purify. And during those hazy, mad times, he knew what he needed to do. What grand mission it was that he was given to do. But the moment he came to himself, it all faded away and everything that he thought was logical before, became insanity.
He wasn't sure if it was the Element controlling him or whether a part of him that was controlling the Element. Maybe there existed something in him, something dark and twisted, that relished the power the Element gave to him.
He wouldn't know.
"Hey."
He turned to see a man – casually dressed with a cop's badge at his belt. Wesley merely gave him a blank look.
"My name's Roger," the man volunteered. He looked amiable, eager to please.
"I'm Wesley," he replied.
"Well," Roger hunkered down a safe distance away from him. "Care to tell me what this is all about?"
Wesley gave him a small smile. "I'm taking a bit of fresh air." It was the truth.
"Where are you from? Certainly not from around here."
Another small smile. "My family moved a lot. But my ancestral home is in Wales."
"Ancestral huh?"
"It's at Golaghun Manor."
Roger lifted his eyebrows, clearly impressed.
"Passed down for six generations." Wesley returned his gaze to the LA skyline. "I'm the seventh."
"Look, I'm here to help you," Roger said after a while. "I know things must be hard for you."
"You have no idea how hard, Roger," Wesley murmured.
"This is not worth it."
"It is," Wesley nodded.
"Tell me what happened," Roger said.
"My best friend tried to kill me. I had a slit throat and he covered my face with a pillow and smothered me. Then my friends abandoned me." Wesley told him casually. His voice sounded robotic to his ears. "Funny, I don't seem to feel anything right now."
That made the cop a little mad somehow. "Did they nab him?"
Wesley shrugged.
Roger caught sight of the pile of photos by his side.
"And that is?"
"Memories to throw," he volunteered.
"Ah. Maybe you can show me the pictures? Tell me something about them."
"What part of 'memories to throw' that you didn't understand?"
"Look. I'm going to cut to the chase here. Jumping, throwing your life away isn't worth it."
Wesley returned his gaze to Roger and tilted his head.
"What makes you think I'm here to jump?"
Roger lifted his eyebrows – took in the sight of him perched on the precarious ledge of the building – and then said: "You telling me you're just taking a breath of fresh air?"
"That's partly the truth."
"And the other part?"
Suddenly, Wesley's hand shot out to grasp Roger's in a vise-like grip. The man gasped, his eyes became round with alarm as he unsuccessfully tried to pull his hand away.
"I was waiting here for you. Roger," Wesley smiled, his eyes glinting in the dim moonlight.
"Henry! Henry, the guy's nuts!" Roger called out, scrabbling backwards.
Wesley sensed people behind Roger running towards them. He narrowed his eyes and pulled Roger towards him.
"You may fool them, but you do not fool me," Wesley hissed. The Element of Fire roared into being – but with a sickening lurch, it retreated. It made Wesley dizzy, and he felt the warm trickle of blood trailing from his nose.
"Let me go you sick f-"
"Where is she?"
"Let me go!"
"Roger! Oh shit! He's got a grip on him!" Running footsteps. "No hold up! HE could jump!"
"Where is she?!"
"Look, I don't know what you're talking-"
The Element of Fire struggled to come forth and for a while it succeeded, appearing in Wesley's eyes. Wesley disappeared – it was the Element now.
As his eyes began to glow, Roger's eyes widened more and more. He grimaced – then his grimace slowly curved into a sly smile.
Their eyes met, and there was no more pretence.
"ROGER!!"
The Element turned. It saw the one called Henry reaching with a hand towards the Beast, and the Element knew that the Beast would reach out for that hand only to pull the human to his death. Just for spite, just like what they were born to do. The Element couldn't care less about the loss of human life. But his persona, the one called Wesley, cared. So it did what Wesley would want. He pulled the Beast away from Henry.
"Oh my god! Roger!!" Henry screamed.
They fell, but the Element/Wesley clasped the body of the Beast to him, making sure that it won't flee. He could only stare at Henry's anguished face as they fell slowly fifty stories down, wondering: Why does one weep for the Beast?
Wesley closed his eyes as the ground came to meet them.
* * * *
"I see," said Giles - his biggest understatement yet. Even Willow had to take a seat to process everything that Angel, and then Connor told them.
Angel had a son? With his sire Darla? Cordelia is a half-demon and is now missing? Wesley stole the baby, and Holtz, a man centuries dead and resurrected by a demon, stole it from Wesley who in turn got his throat slit by Justine, a Holtz minion. And then Holtz took Connor into a hell dimension where the boy grew up into a moody 18-year-old. After which he returns to the world he was born – two weeks after he was stolen.
"Did anyone keep a timeline?" Willow asked no one in particular.
Connor's story was at least, more 'down to earth' so to speak. Apparently Wesley decided to save a businessman's two daughters from a powerful sorcerer/vampire. It backfired badly because Wesley fell into Koskov's trap.
Literally.
"One moment we were in the warehouse facing Koskov and the twin daughters, the next moment the floor fell apart and we were swimming." Connor's eyes darkened at the memory. "I swam out easily enough, but Wesley …"
CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT
A WEEK AGO
Wesley broke the surface of the water again, his breath coming in desperate gasps. Connor caught sight of frightened blue eyes before they sank beneath the clear water.
Connor didn't understand what was wrong. The pool was shallow – barely six feet deep – it should be an easy swim – but Wesley acted as if he was drowning in an ocean.
"Wesley! Swim up!" he yelled.
"Don't bother young man," drawled the vampire, coming towards him without a fear in his old bones. "The Element of Water and the Element of Fire are fighting for control over his body. I think it's a little painful for him to bother with your calls."
Ignoring Koskov, Connor dove into the pool andeasily got hold of Wesley. When he finally pulled the ex-Watcher out of the pool, Wesley could only lie on his side, gasping and coughing. Connor was shocked to see blood flowing freely from his nose and from the corner of his lips.
"Wesley …" he whispered, touching him tentatively. At his touch, Wesley shivered, pulling his knees to his chest. His eyes rolled back until only the whites of his eyes showed. To his horror, Connor saw Wesley's eyes turning red as the capillaries in his eyes burst.
"What did you do to him?" Connor hissed. But he did not get an answer. Instead, Koskov punched him.
Startled, Connor fell back hard. When his vision cleared, two identical blonde girls were looking down at him. This must be the man's daughters. The daughters that Wesley went to so much trouble for.
"Not so brave now, are you?" Koskov mocked. He appeared beside the girls stroking their long blonde hair with his hands.
"Shirley! Chloe!"
Koskov whirled to see Swanson running towards them recklessly, his eyes fixed only on his daughters.
"Hmm. I nearly forgot the man," Koskov murmured.
Koskov only watched as Swanson embraced his daughters, who only stood strangely still.
Connor took that moment to stand up. It was then that he realised what had happened to the girls.
Quickly, ignoring Koskov, he lunged towards Swanson and separated him from them. He pulled Swanson a safe distance away, but he made it difficult, struggling and protesting all the way.
"Shut up!" he finally yelled, his eyes still on Koskov and the twin girls. "They're not your daughters anymore!"
"What are you talking about?" Swanson said, his voice rising to a desperate plea. He was sweating profusely, his whole body trembling. "They're there, they're there!"
One of the girls took a step forward and smiled at Swanson. "Daddy. You took a long time to come. I was so hungry. And scared," she said. She looked confused and scared.
"Oh Chloe, I tried, I –"
And ridges formed on Chloe's forehead as she smiled her fang-filled smile.
"But I'm not now," Chloe sang, her childish voice so out of place with the monster they saw before him. "I'm happy now. But I'm still hungry. And Shirley wasn't enough."
Connor shot a look towards the other girl. He finally took in her unhealthy appearance, the dark circles under her eyes and the blankness in them. She was still alive. Somehow Koskov kept her alive. Enraged, he met Koskov's eyes.
"What can I say. I like the romantic notion of a pair of twins – separated by the wide gulf of immortality. One, an evil beauty, kissed by eternity-"
Chloe smiled, her face still hideous.
"-the other," he murmured, running his hands down Shirley's long hair, "-condemned to rot by her sister's hands…"
"NO!!" Swanson screamed in anguish, falling to his knees. "No, no, no, no…" he whimpered, covering his face with shaky hands.
Koskov smiled at Connor. "I know what you're thinking now. You're thinking that you can take me. That because you have the strength of a Slayer, you can dust me. And I'm all alone here."
Connor merely glowered.
"But I'm not just a vampire. I-" Suddenly, his expression changed to one of surprise. His mouth curved into a surprised "O" and he disappeared into a cloud of dust.
"But you talk too much," said Wesley, holding a stake in his hands.
Connor smiled at Wesley gladly - even though the man still looked a mess. Blood still flowed from his nose, and his eyes were still blood-red, the pupils barely visible.
"Chloe-" Swanson reached for his daughter, who merely growled at him. She backed away from her father and cast Wesley a furtive glance.
Connor held the man back, then asked Wesley: "What are we going to do with her?"
Swanson sat back on his heels, staring vacantly at his vampire daughter. Shirley was still at the same spot she was beside Koskov, her empty expression unchanged. Now that he could see Shirley up close, he could see raw bite marks on her neck – it was partially hidden by her long hair. Connor felt a twinge of pain at the sight of the girl. He cannot imagine the pain she had been going through the past few weeks, witnessing her sister's death and her awakening … he even felt guilty when he remembered telling Wesley to not go to their rescue … but he was used to pain, having lived in a hell dimension. Sometimes, one has to go through pain for the bigger picture.
When the man did not respond, Connor frowned and asked, "Wesley?"
"Why must *everyone* look at me for answers?" Wesley murmured, his voice taking on an annoyed tone. "They never appreciate me for my efforts, you know," he said, his voice low with sadness. "It's always, 'Wesley what do you know?' or 'Wesley, we need your help'."
Wesley's bloody eyes moistened and a bloody tear trickled down his cheek. "They even asked for my help after they told me never to come back. But *they* could come to me. Just don't come to us, we'll come to you!" he sang, then laughed.
"What are you talking about?"
"I'm talking about wasting time, that's what," he said. Then he began humming a tune, twirling the stake in his hand. "Wasting, wasting …"
Oh great, thought Connor. He's having a crazy episode. Wesley had been warning him about it.
"Look," Connor went to Wesley's side, "we have to get these people out of here."
They stared at each other. Connor felt the seconds tick by as Wesley weighed the decision he would've usually made in a snap.
"No," Wesley said playfully. With that, he tapped Connor's chest with a finger.
Connor did not expect the strength behind that simple tap. He found himself flying into the pool, crashing through the surface painfully. He swam up quickly, sputtering his surprise. By the time he came up, Wesley was gone, the only mark of his presence the fading laughter from a distance.
* * *
"When I saw what he did on TV later, I knew that he had gone over the edge. Big time," Connor said as he finished the story.
"What happened to the girl?"
All heads turned to Earl, who twitched at the scrutiny. "Hey I'm a demon, doesn't mean I don't have a heart," he protested.
"I dusted her," Connor said after a beat. "Swanson …" he sighed. "…begged me not to do it, so I had to lock him up in a closet with Shirley and … I dusted her," he shrugged. "It had to be done, you know."
"Yeah, I know how that feels," said Gunn from the doorway. "What's this? Some kinda white hat gathering?"
"He's dangerous sane. Now that' he's insane …" Giles sighed, then cast Gunn a distracted glance. "Hello," he murmured.
"What's this guy?" Gunn muttered, looking at Giles suspiciously. He turned to Angel for answers.
"Do you think we should?" Willow asked, ignoring Gunn's presence. Usually she wouldn't, but she was too rattled by everything that she has heard. Dealing with another apocalypse wasn't her idea of 'recovery time'.
Giles lifted a questioning eyebrow.
"Stop him I mean," Willow clarified.
Now it was her turn to be scrutinised. Willow nervously shifted in her seat but went on bravely.
"I-I mean, from what I read – and it's not that I'm like an expert on it or anything; I was just curious, you know like, that time I was reading the Encyclopedia of Witchcraft and I was at the letter E – what I mean is, I think they're like some kinda thing that is there. You know, they're not exactly bad guys."
"And you have that on record?" Gunn demanded.
"Uh-huh. Whystone's Witchcraft Compendium, and uh, hi," she said, giving him a sheepish smile and a wave.
"What does a bunch of scholar folk know anyway?" Gunn demanded, ignoring her friendly overture.
Giles cleared his throat, looking offended.
"Charles," Fred chided.
"I'm not sayin' sorry, not after what I saw," Gunn said, the set of his jaw firm. "Wesley – we gotta kill him, that's what I say."
"Charles, stop it. We're going to help him, aren't we Angel?" Fred asked, looking hopefully at the vampire.
Angel merely met her eyes without a word.
"Oh, like how he helped us when he stole Connor?"
"Let it rest already, big guy," Earl said, snorting.
Again, all eyes rested on Earl.
Earl shrugged uncomfortably, giving Willow a sheepish look. "I mean, I thought good guys forgive and everything. Sooorry if I'm wrong," he drawled.
"What did you see?" Angel asked quietly, ignoring Earl's words.
"Can't describe it. You gotta see it," at that, Gunn walked to the door, looking back just once to make sure Angel followed.
* * *
AT THE OFFICES OF WOLFRAM AND HART
"I see. Our client is very specific about this. Hmm … are you sure? Well, track him down, damnit! That's why we sacrificed two men for that spell!"
Lilah replaced the phone with a heavy sigh. She flicked her carefully coiffed hair irritably with a hand and tried her best to not look rattled.
"Sorcerers. The excuses they give …" she gave the client a perfect smile. "But don't worry, everything is going according to plan. The wheels are moving as we speak and the Elemental … well, let' just say we have the work done for us."
The client smiled.
* * *
"Wesley couldn't have done this," Fred said quietly.
There were too many people in the charred apartment. Somehow, the police have left, leaving the crime scene full of yellow tape criss-crossing the small place. Now they were clumsily barging into a crime scene. Giles and Willow kept their distance from the group, observing quietly.
It was an apartment in the low-end area of LA. The area was full of high rise apartments, catered to the lower middle class. Blue-collared folks; people with families… this area was full of families.
Angel's boot crunched on something. He carefully removed a boot. It was a charred Barbie Doll. A single blue eye, strangely untouched by the terrible fire, stared up at him.
"This is not the only thing he did, Fred," Gunn said stoicly. He moved ahead to the master bedroom, located at the far right. He stood at the door, jaw working as he stared inside.
"Figured that the cops got spooked by what they saw and left in a big hurry. Probably to hug their wife and kids back home. I would too," he met Fred's eyes meaningfully.
Angel stopped at the doorway and stared. Just two seconds later he was walking out, walking past Giles, Willow, Fred and Gunn.
"Angel? What?" Fred stared after the retreating figure in confusion. Hesitantly, she approached the room … and saw.
Her eyes teared and she covered her mouth with a trembling hand to keep herself from screaming - and throwing up.
"Oh my God," Willow whispered behind her.
The family had retreated into the bedroom, desperate to escape the threat that invaded their little apartment. The mother had held her baby to her chest in a vain attempt to protect it while the father stood before her and his two children – a boy and a girl who cowered behind his legs – bravely facing the monster that did this to them.
His bravery, however, did not disguise the agony in his face as he was burnt too death. The children were the same, their eyes wide open in terror, their mouths twisted in agony. Even the baby, so young and uncomprehending, had howled in silent pain.
Now, all that was left of them was ash. It had been so hot that the ash had fused, turning into some kind of glassy rock. Some bits of flesh, however, survived the inferno – the mother's face, turned into her baby's was still raw and black. A wisp of her hair fluttered in the slight breeze from the blasted windows.
"He's got to die," Gunn said quietly. "Because he's mad with power or some shit. And he doesn't care anymore."
Fred regained her composure and removed her hand from her mouth. An iciness crept into her heart where it once held regret and guilt for her former friend.
"Yeah. We've got to kill him," she said, her voice low.