A/N: I was a bit uncertain, if managed to bring Dylan and the way she acted along plausible. So please tell me what you think about it ....

A/N2: I also like to thank my reviewers - it's much more fun to write a story and get feedback ;-)

Chapter 10: Broken wings

Dylan was going way over speed limit, but she did not care, it was the first time they got a message from Charlie on her handy that told her to come immediately to the hospital. She really had a bad feeling about this. So did Natalie, was there an attack on the agency? Did something happened to Dr. Crushner or Aurelie? Or worse?

It was pure luck that no police car was tailing them as Dylan pulled onto the parking lot, taking two places at once, jumping out and rushing towards the emergency room. Nat was right beside her. Soon they say many news people with cameras and styled up reporters in front blocking the entrance. The police tried to shove them away, but there voice about freedom of press and nobody seem to give a damn about new incoming patients.

All that interested them was obviously Jason Gibbs. Shoving their way through the angels heard them inquire about how he was or felt. Finally Dylan reached the hospital side of the news mob, but was also stopped by the police. "Damn it, let me through", she said having the worst of all bad feelings ever. "Unless you are patient - I can't do that, sorry", a young man in uniform said.

"Please - we have been called here, it is important", Nat tried wishing she knew what exactly was going on. "I bet Alex is inside", Dylan said.

"You mean Alex Munroe, Mr. Gibb's girl-friend?", the young officer asked.

"Yes, she is our friend", Nat gasped. "Well - I guess I can make an exception for you", he said and winked both of them through. Both instantly went to the desk, where a busy and annoyed looking nurse greeted them: "I hope you ain't reporters!"

"No, we aren't, I'm Natalie Cook and this is Dylan Saunders", Nat said with a smile to break the ice and the nurse eyes showed that she was familiar with the names. Her general expression turned to sadness as she said: "Go to rest room 4, you are expected."

Hurrying on the angels were prepared for the worst happening to Jason, but instead of her fellow angel they saw a broken down Jason as they opened the door to the shown room. Knowing Jason's acting skills they knew what the look and the tears in his eyes meant. It was a look that would have suited him in the first movie, when his movie love was killed.

"Alex!", Natalie said and Jason looked up, nodding and starting to cry even more badly. The blonde angel began to sob, knowing that it was bad that her friend might even be dead. Dylan just stood there, hardly able to breath, she felt the need to cry and scream, but she was too shocked and not able to express herself in any way. She barely noticed Pete coming from the bathroom back into the room, placing the glass of water in his hand on the next chair and rushing to Natalie.

He just took her in his arms and she hung her arms around his neck. "They operating her now - it does not look good."

"B-but - sh-e's a-a-li-ve?", Nat managed to press out between her almost violent sobbing.

"Yes, she is", he said. Dylan say that he was looking at him. She felt herself also looking at him, she so barely needed someone to hold her. He realised that, too and loosened one arm from his fiancé and pulled Dylan closer to them. Feeling some kind of support Dylan began to cry to, not like Nat, but her cheeks were over run by tears and her make-up smeared all over, but she did not care. "What happened?", she said, but deep inside she already knew.

She could almost hear Seamus voice: "???"

Damn him! Hate was rushing over her and as Pete explained it only grew stronger: "She was passing the street and a car drove over her. The doctors are worried… they think the operation will go on for some hours. Complicated fractures, possible head trauma." He was also at the edge of crumbling. Dylan took a step back. The grown hate and fury gave her the strength to stand on her own. She nodded a thanks to Pete.

Then she looked at Jason who was just sitting there head down, she swore that she made Seamus pay for this. Finding out who he was, well, she was certain that was not really a problem. Not anymore, she turned and left the room. "Dy--lan?", Nat called after her.

"Sorry, I need some time alone", she lied and yet did not. What she wanted to she needed to do alone. She should have done it, but false righteousness kept her from doing so. How could she be so careless and selfish? She should have known better and now Alex was nearly killed by a car - still in mortal danger.

She rushed down the hall, outside the main entrance, where also some reporters were held at bay. In the corner of her eye she realised that more police had arrived freed the way to the E.R. Dylan set back and drove off. Not to fast this time, she did not want to be caught. Her first goal was the agency, she slipped through the side entrance and into the office. She could hear distant cries and realised it must be Bosley.

It seemed Aurelie took care of him. She took a deep breath then she took Aurelie' gun from the desk where it still lay. She was going to need this, if she wanted to find Seamus. It was all she could think about. When she wanted to stray from that direction her fury got he right on track. Charlie was not going to appreciate it, a small voice whispered. The angry one shut it down with no effort: He would not like seeing Nat die either.

Then she snug out and head in her car to the harbour it seemed almost too easy. She parked in the underground garage of a firm that belonged to the O'Grady's. Import and Export via ship, Troy, Seamus favourite cousin was head of the branch. Behind his fake legal cover he sat firmly and save. 'Not this night', Dylan thought. She took a look at all the cars, while she had hoped to spot his car. So many vehicles down here looked rather expensive and might have suited the Irish mobster. One was particular promising, but she had to be sure.

So she changed her plan and went in the elevator upstairs to the entry hall. Keeping her head down so nobody might recognise her face on one of the surveillance cameras, she bumped on her way out into someone. An Irish accent showed through the man's voice as he yelled at her. "Sorry", she said not daring to look up. The voice sounded familiar, but she was too determined to get through with it and dismissed it.

The man went into the elevator, muttering something like: "Stupid bitch" and some other things Dylan did not understand. At the front desk she asked the unfriendly looking male: "Hi, there! Is Troy here?" It was hard to smile, but she managed. She always did her best and worst, when she was upset. Sometimes the best and the worst was one and the same thing - like testify against Seamus. Playing one of Troy's dolls was disgusting, but she needed his office number.

Looking around in the garage she had seen the signs at the walls, some where with licence plate matches, but all had either an office or a green stripes on the walls or floors. Anyway her trick worked. Dylan talked at least enough to get the floor and room number out of the desk sergeant. She smiled satisfied and went back into the elevator. No doubt left - Troy's was the blue Mercedes with the Elvis figurine in front of it. 'Such a phony sucker', she thought remembering.

Seamus would have to learn that she was not Helen anymore and that laying hands on her friends was the worst idea he ever had. She should have done it instead of heading to Mexico, but then she just had been sad, frightened not mad with hate like now.

She got back to her car and turned her cell of and threw it in her car, pocketed the spare ammunition and put on the holster and the gun. The fact that his Mercedes was an older model with no laser cut keys made it almost too easy. Being a nostalgic kind of guy, Troy had his week spots. She grabbed herself a few breaking tools.

Avoiding the cameras, Dylan let herself into the luxurious interior. She wondered what kind of car he used when he was on unofficial business. It was very dark and she posed herself out of sight. She had worn black cloth anyway. Thinking about it she had worn more black the past month than ever before. It was unimportant at the moment. Then she remembered to turn off the inner light completely and went back to her little place behind the front and back seats.

She waited and waited, but nothing happened. The thought that she might not be able to do it, occurred to her. It was wrong, but better to disappoint her friends then lose them, watch them being hunted down by this maniac that used to be her first love. Dylan felt weak. It drained too much out of her, she could not stand much more of changes in her life. Especially if they rushed in so utterly surprising and unwanted.

Maybe not all, but she had not strength left to think about Anthony, the Thin Man and her willingness to accept the idea he might actually have risen from the grave. The first cars started to move out and she was sure her cellular would already been ringing like hell, if she had not turn it off. She would tell Nat later that she was alright and she did not have to worry about herself, Pete or anyone close to her. 'Poor Nat', Dylan thought, 'but I protect you!'

Finally she was becoming nervous. Two men talked right next to the Mercedes for some time and she was afraid that they might see her. As they went she was relieved, but found herself again waiting and becoming more and more anxious. After an eternity she finally heard him coming out of the elevator joking with other O'Grady familiars. They parted and he got in the car. Troy O'Grady placed his briefcase on the co-drivers seat and plugged the key in.

The moment the engine was started Dylan brought up the gun to his temple. "Just go nice and slow and get us out of here." It would already be dark outside and even if not in this city nobody cared. Troy played it cool, not a sweat, no elaborated breath, he hissed barely surprised: "Helen - Helen Zaas. How was your day?" The gun hit him instantly, his coldness brought up her anger that had been stagnated at the car floor.

'Good, I need that', she told herself. "Shut up, I ask the questions. Where is he?", she demanded with trembling lips. Troy groaned in pain and was slowly raising his hand to touch the source of his pain. "Keep your hands on the wheel!", she barked and stopped his movement. She was nervous and hoped it did not show through, she could not allow him to struggle. Pressing the gun back at his head he laid his hands back.

He drove the car out of the garage and eyed her carefully. The angel was determined like never before, for some reason it made the mobster smile. "What's so funny?", she spat at him. "Nothing, I…", he began, but he was interrupted. "Good, now take me to him!", she ordered. "To whom?", he asked, but did not managed to sound convincing. His toying around annoyed the redhead, but she was not allowing him to distract her. She was in control here, whether he cared or not. "Feeling lonely?", he started to smile again.

Dylan just tipped a few times with the cold metal point, where she had hit him and the smile disappeared. "Tell me where he is and how he is", she urged him. "Well, what do you think how he is? You sent him to a coma, not enough that you caged him away", he said but before he could become more angry, Dylan said: "I intend to put him away for good this time. I don't want to repeat myself!"

"He is a couple of miles out of the city, a large villa", he said and left the garage. "Good take me there!", she repeated. "Well, if you insist", he said. Anxious Dylan observed her hostage, but he was too cowardly to make that mistake. He also kept his mouth shut, but as they left the city he asked: "Have you someone following us?"

"No, why do you ask?", the angel was not happy and sensed a false play. "Well, I thought there was a car following us, but I can't see it right now. It's a …", he explained before Dylan interrupted grinning: "Sorry, you waste your time. I keep my eyes on you. You watch the road!" He shrugged his shoulders. Sweat was on her palm and she adjusted her grip on the gun. "How long?", she said.

"Half an hour." As much as he liked his cousin, he was still more interested in his own well being. Dylan heard that Troy was upset, but she did not cared. There were just a couple of criminals, that grouped together to cause more damage. Finally the Irish man pulled into an alley blocked by a huge iron bar gate. He pressed the opener and the ornamented gate separated without any noise. He pulled on the grounds and in the back surrounded by even more trees was a huge mansion. Dylan orderd him to stop before they came closer to the house.

It was a shame that such a low life like Seamus lived in luxury while hard working people had often a difficult time to make their living. Maybe she should just get him back to prison. "He'll hate that", the red head thought, but this was not about revenge, it was about prevention, with him gone the O'Grady's would focus on her and only her. Maybe Max, but she was not sure whether Seamus enlightened anyone on his new identity. She bet not, for the head of the family might have demanded that he was attacked right away. It was surprising that Seamus father did not asked for head, but then that was his sons affair.

He stopped the car and instantly Dylan knocked him out. She turned the lights of, then the renegade angel took his tie and fumbled his arms around the seat. As she was finished Troy was tied firmly to the back of his seat. The sponge and the leather cloth in his door was used to silence him. Then the red head moved the seat so far up, that his legs were trapped. She was a bit exhausted from the climbing around in the car, but now he was not able to disturb her.

She took his keys and slipped out the co-driver side. The building was obviously not well guarded on the outside. Often she had stopped and looked for one, but heard nothing. Anyway she doubted that any information given by Troy would be correct. Hopefully Seamus was inside the building. Passing the huge round fountain in the gardens before, she through the right between the sea roses in the lowest ring.

Dylan approached the building from the west side, where had seen a light behind a room with access to a balcony that had nearly as much space as her apartment. Was it Troy's private place? The police would have searched those, wouldn't they? She pressed against the building listening. The balcony was open she had seen the curtains leap out in the mild wind. A door was opened "Mr. O'Grady, your midnight snacks", a female voice said. Another door was closed. "I'd really like to have you for a snack", a certain very familiar Irish voice said suddenly.

'You sound weak, darling', Dylan sarcastically said to herself. Climbing up was easy, a black iron climbing frame for a lovely white climbing roses, went right up to the first floor next to the balcony. Stealthy the angel reached the ground, her hands bleed a little for she had accidentally touched a few thorns on her way up. It was more annoying to hear Seamus and the woman, obviously the missing nurse, for she told him that for now she was only his nurse.

Dylan took an elevated look from the corner over the grounds. She filtered there talk and as soon as the woman left the room, the angel snug closer. A few doors leading from the balcony were open, but only one room was lit. A huge bedchamber with cloth wallpaper and an ornate ceiling. She took the gun in her hand, feeling uncomfortable with it, then she thought of a broken Alex on the operating table and appeared in the door frame.

Seamus looked at the gun in her hand, then at her. "Helen, so nice of you to stop by!", an annoying smile on his face. Dylan was not prepared for all that she saw now. Seamus was lying in the huge four poster bed, a drip right next it. He looked pale, more skinny, but still he was acting like he was in control. Dylan started to sweat. The room was warm also the door had been open for some time. She thought about a reply, but telling him again, she was now Dylan Sanders, seemed a bit silly.

She smiled back - contemptuous. Before she was able to tell him that he had played his last foul game, she felt someone beside her. "Drop the gun", an other Irish voice said. It was familiar, she turned her head slightly and in the corner of her eyes she saw the guy with the scars in his face. One of Seamus bloodhounds, the guy she had bumped into earlier.