Still don't own Angel or any of the characters. If I did, the show would
never end. We'd just keep seeing the hotties come in and go out.
Then she hopped up. She looked around a little wildly, as if expecting to see something that wasn't there. Spike and Lorne got a vision of a young girl no older than five being led into a large, dark room. The room was full of torture machines, from the normal chains on the wall to the stretch machines of the olden days. Metal scythes hung on the wall and knives and swords and daggers of all kinds glinted threateningly in the small light filtering in through the door. As soon as the door was closed, only a tiny amount of gray light coming from a crack in the wall that must make the room hell during a storm came through. The girl was laid down on the stretch machine and a crooning but sinister sounding voice said, "I told you not to Clara, but you wouldn't listen. Why don't you ever listen to me Clara?"
Then the vision disappeared as quickly as it had come. The Clara now looked confused and quickly shook her head again. Her dark hair shook and the individual strands shone in the light from the window. Her eyes were dark and foreboding, but Spike decided he had to ask the question anyway.
"What was that?"
"Nothing," Clara said. Much too quickly, just as when she stood up too quickly. "It just happens sometimes. You know..." she trailed off, her mumbling slowly becoming incoherent.
"No," said Lorne, "We don't know. Why don't you tell us about it?"
"No, really I'm fine. So are you. That shouldn't be happening anymore. I just..."
"You just what?" asked Spike worriedly. He took a concerned step toward her and she intuitively backed away.
"I just..." she finally looked up and into Spikes clear eyes and said, "Have to be more careful is all. I think...I think I should go...do something really quick."
She exits the room and Spike and Lorne stared after her.
There was a knock on the door. Wesley yelled for whomever it was to come in. He hoped to God it wasn't Angel. Not that he was mad or anything, he just really didn't need to deal with anything frustrating at the moment.
The door opened and in walked Clara. Wesley sighed. He looked up to the ceiling as though about to have a serious talk to God about what frustrating was and wasn't.
Clara sprawled in the chair in front of Wesley's desk and said bluntly, "I can't find Angel."
"Well, he's probably off working somewhere. He's not in his office that often."
"Really? Whatever. I have to find him. If you see him...tell him I'm looking for him."
He nodded. "Right-o."
Clara left. Wesley shook his head.
Clara found Angel in Gunn's office talking about something Clara might have cared about had she been involved. As it was, she traipsed in there and interrupted so coolly and swiftly, Angel and Gunn didn't really know what was happening.
"Angel. I need to talk to you."
Angel turned as if to see whom the magical person that had teleported here and interrupted. He saw Clara finally registered what she had said, and then replied, "All right. Can it hold on a moment?"
Clara looked at Gunn. He was pretty good-looking. She considered, not wanting to upset a guy as good-looking as he was, then sighed heavily and threw up her arms in defeat.
She sat down in one of the chairs and followed their conversation as easily as she could.
"No Gunn, it's just not possible. You saw what the Senior Partners are. You know what can happen when you upset them. There's nothing we can really do here. I thought you knew that. We just have to wait for him to show up."
"Why though? Why do we have to wait for him? You're alive Angel. We don't have to wait for Linsey anymore."
"Yes we do. I may not like him, but when I do die, and that could be very soon, I don't want some weirdo they put in next to take the job."
"Then let me!"
"You know I can't Gunn. Believe me, I would choose you over Linsey any day, but unfortunately, I can't."
"Why not?"
"I have my reasons Gunn. Now, can I deal with Clara?"
He shrugged and went behind his desk, pulling out a huge pile of files. Clara viewed them and realized about five minutes later that her cleaning reflexes were kicking in. The papers in the files started arranging themselves so they were in order and corners weren't sticking out. When she was done, the job didn't look as impossible as it had previously. Gunn looked up at her in surprise and she shrugged, tipped him an unexpected wink she made sure Angel couldn't see, and then pushed herself up off the chair. Her and Angel left and she mentally envisioned the door closing behind them. Click. The sound of the door closing softly.
Her and Angel entered his office and sprawled in their chairs. Her legs were thrown over the seat of her chair and Angel's hands were laced behind his head. "Yes?" he asked rather impatiently. He needed someone like her to work here, but he didn't need her attitude. Lorne had already informed her of it and Wesley had given him a rather surprising account of how she got people to shut up.
"Look," she said, "I need to quit. Just the working environment here is...not safe for me."
"Is this about throwing Illyria against the wall?"
"Is that the blue thing?"
Angel nodded.
"No, it's not. I just...can't work here. I thought I could make it work...but it won't. I mean, there are just some people who need to work alone, you know what I mean? I'm one of those people."
"Lorne also told me about the vision you accidentally gave to him and Spike. It gave them quite a scare. The woman putting you on the stretching machine was your mother wasn't she?" This last question was asked in a soft and caring tone.
"That's none of your DAMN BUSINESS ANGEL!" she cried. Then she looked surprised at herself and gave him a brief apology in her mind. "Sorry," she said out loud. 'I'm a little touchy on that subject. Let's not talk about it, all right?" Angel nodded again and she continued. "Anyway, about quitting -"
"No."
"What?"
"No."
"What do you mean, no? You can't tell me no. I say I quit, I quit!"
"You're only seventeen. You're under my control. And I say that you are not quitting. I've already signed the paperwork."
"What paperwork?"
"Well Clara," he said, leaning back. "I've done some extensive study on you."
Her mouth fell open.
"Nothing about that particular room Lorne mentioned was in that research, so you don't have to worry. But I found out you are one of the most powerful of your kind. Your mother, unfortunately, took a sickening twist around the bend and she is now in a mental institution in Georgia. I understand your father died of cancer when you were eight, and neither of your parents have living relatives. They were both orphans and to find their brothers and sisters if there were any would be more than I need right now. But to get to the point, the court need someone to look after you so they know you're still abiding the law."
"I don't see what all this is coming to. Why do I still have to work here?"
"Because I own you."
"What?" Her voice was flat and a little desperate.
"I own you. I'm not technically your gaurdian, not technically your slave owner, but somewhere in between. Don't ask me to explain the legal technicalities, but I am your...long-term babysitter so to speak. You must do as I say because I'm the closest thing to a parent you have."
Don't think that sounds like Angel? Find out why in the next chapter.
Then she hopped up. She looked around a little wildly, as if expecting to see something that wasn't there. Spike and Lorne got a vision of a young girl no older than five being led into a large, dark room. The room was full of torture machines, from the normal chains on the wall to the stretch machines of the olden days. Metal scythes hung on the wall and knives and swords and daggers of all kinds glinted threateningly in the small light filtering in through the door. As soon as the door was closed, only a tiny amount of gray light coming from a crack in the wall that must make the room hell during a storm came through. The girl was laid down on the stretch machine and a crooning but sinister sounding voice said, "I told you not to Clara, but you wouldn't listen. Why don't you ever listen to me Clara?"
Then the vision disappeared as quickly as it had come. The Clara now looked confused and quickly shook her head again. Her dark hair shook and the individual strands shone in the light from the window. Her eyes were dark and foreboding, but Spike decided he had to ask the question anyway.
"What was that?"
"Nothing," Clara said. Much too quickly, just as when she stood up too quickly. "It just happens sometimes. You know..." she trailed off, her mumbling slowly becoming incoherent.
"No," said Lorne, "We don't know. Why don't you tell us about it?"
"No, really I'm fine. So are you. That shouldn't be happening anymore. I just..."
"You just what?" asked Spike worriedly. He took a concerned step toward her and she intuitively backed away.
"I just..." she finally looked up and into Spikes clear eyes and said, "Have to be more careful is all. I think...I think I should go...do something really quick."
She exits the room and Spike and Lorne stared after her.
There was a knock on the door. Wesley yelled for whomever it was to come in. He hoped to God it wasn't Angel. Not that he was mad or anything, he just really didn't need to deal with anything frustrating at the moment.
The door opened and in walked Clara. Wesley sighed. He looked up to the ceiling as though about to have a serious talk to God about what frustrating was and wasn't.
Clara sprawled in the chair in front of Wesley's desk and said bluntly, "I can't find Angel."
"Well, he's probably off working somewhere. He's not in his office that often."
"Really? Whatever. I have to find him. If you see him...tell him I'm looking for him."
He nodded. "Right-o."
Clara left. Wesley shook his head.
Clara found Angel in Gunn's office talking about something Clara might have cared about had she been involved. As it was, she traipsed in there and interrupted so coolly and swiftly, Angel and Gunn didn't really know what was happening.
"Angel. I need to talk to you."
Angel turned as if to see whom the magical person that had teleported here and interrupted. He saw Clara finally registered what she had said, and then replied, "All right. Can it hold on a moment?"
Clara looked at Gunn. He was pretty good-looking. She considered, not wanting to upset a guy as good-looking as he was, then sighed heavily and threw up her arms in defeat.
She sat down in one of the chairs and followed their conversation as easily as she could.
"No Gunn, it's just not possible. You saw what the Senior Partners are. You know what can happen when you upset them. There's nothing we can really do here. I thought you knew that. We just have to wait for him to show up."
"Why though? Why do we have to wait for him? You're alive Angel. We don't have to wait for Linsey anymore."
"Yes we do. I may not like him, but when I do die, and that could be very soon, I don't want some weirdo they put in next to take the job."
"Then let me!"
"You know I can't Gunn. Believe me, I would choose you over Linsey any day, but unfortunately, I can't."
"Why not?"
"I have my reasons Gunn. Now, can I deal with Clara?"
He shrugged and went behind his desk, pulling out a huge pile of files. Clara viewed them and realized about five minutes later that her cleaning reflexes were kicking in. The papers in the files started arranging themselves so they were in order and corners weren't sticking out. When she was done, the job didn't look as impossible as it had previously. Gunn looked up at her in surprise and she shrugged, tipped him an unexpected wink she made sure Angel couldn't see, and then pushed herself up off the chair. Her and Angel left and she mentally envisioned the door closing behind them. Click. The sound of the door closing softly.
Her and Angel entered his office and sprawled in their chairs. Her legs were thrown over the seat of her chair and Angel's hands were laced behind his head. "Yes?" he asked rather impatiently. He needed someone like her to work here, but he didn't need her attitude. Lorne had already informed her of it and Wesley had given him a rather surprising account of how she got people to shut up.
"Look," she said, "I need to quit. Just the working environment here is...not safe for me."
"Is this about throwing Illyria against the wall?"
"Is that the blue thing?"
Angel nodded.
"No, it's not. I just...can't work here. I thought I could make it work...but it won't. I mean, there are just some people who need to work alone, you know what I mean? I'm one of those people."
"Lorne also told me about the vision you accidentally gave to him and Spike. It gave them quite a scare. The woman putting you on the stretching machine was your mother wasn't she?" This last question was asked in a soft and caring tone.
"That's none of your DAMN BUSINESS ANGEL!" she cried. Then she looked surprised at herself and gave him a brief apology in her mind. "Sorry," she said out loud. 'I'm a little touchy on that subject. Let's not talk about it, all right?" Angel nodded again and she continued. "Anyway, about quitting -"
"No."
"What?"
"No."
"What do you mean, no? You can't tell me no. I say I quit, I quit!"
"You're only seventeen. You're under my control. And I say that you are not quitting. I've already signed the paperwork."
"What paperwork?"
"Well Clara," he said, leaning back. "I've done some extensive study on you."
Her mouth fell open.
"Nothing about that particular room Lorne mentioned was in that research, so you don't have to worry. But I found out you are one of the most powerful of your kind. Your mother, unfortunately, took a sickening twist around the bend and she is now in a mental institution in Georgia. I understand your father died of cancer when you were eight, and neither of your parents have living relatives. They were both orphans and to find their brothers and sisters if there were any would be more than I need right now. But to get to the point, the court need someone to look after you so they know you're still abiding the law."
"I don't see what all this is coming to. Why do I still have to work here?"
"Because I own you."
"What?" Her voice was flat and a little desperate.
"I own you. I'm not technically your gaurdian, not technically your slave owner, but somewhere in between. Don't ask me to explain the legal technicalities, but I am your...long-term babysitter so to speak. You must do as I say because I'm the closest thing to a parent you have."
Don't think that sounds like Angel? Find out why in the next chapter.