Ahem. Testing 1, 2, 3. Testing...
I'm so happy I ACTUALLY got reviews! Thank you, thank you, THANK YOU! Reviews are like a drug, very much addicting. ::nods::
Hm, I don't think there's anything I need to say in this chapter...
Is there?
Oh wait, I realized I overplay things a lot. Make things more dramatic than they seem. It's a disease, I know, but just hang tight with me
... did I just say 'hang tight?'
Um. Yeah. On with the story.
- - - - - - - - - -
Chapter 3 "Angel!"
"Yo, Angel, man! You there?"
Wesley and Gunn stood at the doorway of Hyperion hotel. It was a mess, to be blunt. Books were thrown across the counter; some were even left on the floor. Papers were scattered and crumpled everywhere. Dust had probably collected itself in numerous places. It was cold and everything gave off a ghostly appearance. Nothing was in order anymore, the room wreaked of chaos. The old hotel showed more of an abandoned state than when they had first called this place their home. It was gloomy and ill used; it was finally a vampire lair.
Wesley mentally shivered at the thought.
"You think he's up there?" Gunn pointed to the stairs.
Wesley grimaced. Gunn would have to go up there by himself in Wesley's handicapped state. The idea wasn't too safe itself. With Angel not so... friendly, Wesley didn't want Gunn just charging himself up there unarmed. "Maybe you should..."
Gunn held up a stake. "Already ahead of you, English."
"Be careful, Gunn," Wesley warned as the warrior made his way up the fleet of stairs. "Angel wasn't all too... sane... when we last saw him."
Gunn nodded. "But if I go up there and that Angelus dude is waiting for me, I am seriously getting a raise."
Wesley quietly smiled to himself. Then he looked at his surroundings. Stairs all around him. "Uhhh, Gunn," he called. "I think I may need some help..."
- - - - - - - - - -
Gunn was positioned right in front of Angel's bedroom. He hadn't brought himself to knock yet, hadn't mustered up the courage. God, how had things gotten so messed up? If it was any other time, Gunn wouldn't even have thought about knocking. Okay, maybe a little tap, but that's about it. Angel was starting to feel like family, they all started to fill up that spot that was left by his sister, Alonna. He cursed under his breath. He remembered after he jammed that stake into his little sister's heart, he vowed he wouldn't let anyone else so close to him fall into a peril so dark.
And look how great that was turning out.
He shook his head, shaking off weary thoughts and emotions. He heard something though, an erratic tapping noise. Water? Good, Angel was taking a shower... that gave Gunn time to get one of those heroic speeches going, not that he was much for talking. He was usually the brawn of the team; he let Wesley do the jabbering. Wesley was good at that.
He gently turned the doorknob, skipping the knocking. The apartment was dark. Only the glow of the bathroom light illuminated the room. Maybe Gunn should sit, or did it come off too intimidated? He didn't want to be intimidated; he wanted to stand up to Angel. Just not piss him off too much.
Then it finally occurred to Gunn that he didn't actually hear Angel moving around. He didn't hear moving at all. He wagered if he should check on the vampire or not, he'd really like to keep his head for another sixty years, thank you very much. But, reluctantly, he complied with his gut instinct and headed for the shower room.
The sight made Gunn's innards want to come up his esophagus.
Angel, pale as a sheet, curled up in the farthest corner of the shower with a kitchen knife gleaming with stained blood. Gunn rushed to his fallen friend, turning off the running water before checking for Angel's wounds. There were cuts scattered on his arms, one running up his calf. Only two of them were deep, thank God. He flipped open his cell and, as fast as humanly possible, punched in the numbers to Angel Investigations.
"Come on, Cordy..." he silently prayed as the phone rang.
"Chase Investigations, how may I help you?" Finally - wait? What? Chase Investigations?!
"Cordelia?"
"Gunn?"
He pushed the business name away and grabbed a towel from the towel rack. "Uh, yeah, it's me."
"Is everything okay? Are you guys okay?" she asked, worried. "Angel didn't like... eat anyone?"
"No, but he's in some serious trouble," he could almost here her physically tense on the other side of the line. "Look, I need you to get over here quick."
"Is he okay? I mean, he's alive, right?"
"Cordelia, just get your ass down here!" he flipped the cover of his phone down, not really caring about saying his goodbyes at the moment.
Wrapping a towel around the damp vampire, he threw Angel's arm around his shoulder and attempted to haul the bigger man up from the ground. He was successful up to about Angel's bed where Gunn got Angel dressed in a fresh pair of boxers and pants as best as he possibly could.
He cursed again when he realized getting Angel down the stairs without dropping him like a rag doll was going to be very, very difficult if he didn't have another person here to help him. Wesley was downstairs in a wheelchair and couldn't even get up himself, and Cordelia was about as helpful as a small beach shovel.
Gunn gently laid Angel out on his bed, trying to keep his friend as comfortable as possible, before running back down to Wesley who looked hopelessly useless in his wheelchair. "Uh, Wes?"
Wesley looked up. "Ah, Gunn! That was fast, how's Angel?"
"Yeah, that's why I came down," Gunn started. "The guy don't look too hot."
Wesley's eyes grew wide. "You mean..." he couldn't swallow down the thought. "He's not..."
"He's not dead," Gunn said and Wesley sighed in relief. "But he looked a little suicidal to me."
"Suicidal?"
Even the thought of Angel becoming suicidal made anyone's stomach lurch. Angel was one of the strongest people Wesley knew and for the vampire to become somewhat suicidal had to be bad. Really bad.
"Well... not suicidal for a vampire. Look'd like he was trying to die from blood loss," Gunn said, taking a quick glance back up the stairs.
Wesley hung his head. This was getting more troubling by the second.
"I already called Cordelia, she's coming over here," Gunn informed, trying to hoist up Wesley's spirits.
Wesley subtly cleared his throat. "Good. That's good," he looked over to Gunn. "Where is he?"
"Upstairs and knocked out," Gunn said, walking over to one of the couches and sitting himself down with a heavy sigh. When had things gotten so out of control?
Before any of them could form another thought, Cordelia burst through the Hyperion doors; she looked frantic and disoriented, a rare look for Queen C. "Where's Angel?"
"Upstairs," Wesley answered. "He's... asleep."
"You mean unconscious?" she snorted impudently to the ex-Watcher. "I'm not that stupid, Wesley -"
"Cordelia, we found him... not on the most positive note?"
That seemed to get her attention. "Wait... what?"
"I found him up there and it looked bad- "Gunn started.
Cordelia held up her hand, not wanting to hear anymore. "Can I go see him?" she asked quietly, shoving her hands in her back pockets and looking at Wesley.
"Well... I'm not so sure Angel's approachable right now," Wesley cautioned. "If he were to wake up I'd think he'd be a little... lost."
"Don't worry," she said, flashing him a small, but genuine, smile. "If he decides to wake up, I'll call. I'm total resource girl."
With that she started to bound her way up the stairs while both her friends crossed their fingers and hoped everything boded well for the little less than carefree girl.
- - - - - - - - - -
Cordelia slowly closed the door behind her as she stepped through Angel's dark sanctuary. On a more or less normal day when Angel hadn't fired them, she wouldn't even have given a second thought about coming up here. This was one of the only places Angel could be totally and completely alone and he meant to keep it that way, therefore it was an off limits zone to she and Wesley. It felt so awkward now, like she was sticking her nose into some place that wasn't meant for sticking and it would be burnt off any second now.
She tiptoed her way to Angel's bedside to see the sheets stained in blood. Cordelia gasped, stepping closer to observe the wounds; they weren't severe, nothing super vampire healing wouldn't cure, but the thought on how he had gotten those cuts made her cringe in fear and... guilt, for some odd reason.
Taking a near by chair, she sat herself down next to where Angel lay. And then, after mustering up some courage and taming down her embarrassment, she began to speak to him; nothing much, at first, but something.
"Hey, Angel," Cordelia started, ready to spill out almost everything she had felt for the past couple months. "Haven't seen you since you went psycho vampire on us, but hey, no big, right? Okay, maybe it is a big – no offense. I mean, yeah, you've kind of been a little on the unflappable side since that Darla chick blew into town, but remember what I said? When Doyle died and you were all stoic guy? You don't need to be Mr. Unflappable around me, flap away for all I care, I can deal with. The Angel that fired us and pushed us away, I can't.
"Although, yeah. I know we haven't been a great example of support team 101, but we cared and you should have known we did. You don't have to be macho guy all the time; sensitive-Angel is always good sometimes, too. Yet, I guess we should have said something, you know? Not let you fall like this. And what are these?" she grabbed his hand and looked at the numerous cuts. "Suicidal much? And don't you dare tell me you fell when you get up. I've been to high school; I know what suicidal wrist slashing looks like."
Cordelia sighed and let his hand go, wishing he was awake and looking at her. "I just wish things were different; that all of this didn't happen and we were a team again. I mean, I love Wesley and Gunn, don't get me wrong, but I really miss you, Angel. You made everything right and clear and any word that doesn't mean murky. But now look at you. Do you know how scared I was, thinking that you might one day turn into Angelus again?"
She didn't realize that tears were starting to trail wet streams down her face. She wiped them away, absentmindedly. "And then, sometimes I wonder if I'm not good enough for you, as a friend. Like if Buffy, Ms. Golden- Sunshine, were here that you'd be good as new. Buffy always made you better and I feel like I'm only second best. Well I know no one comes before her in your heart, but like... I feel like I'm supposed to take care of you now since she's not around anymore and now, since everything that's happened, I can't. I just don't see why that little girl, who hasn't even mentioned to call ever since you gave up your humanity for her, can be so special to you. Honestly, ever since you left Sunnydale for her greater good, I think she's treated you like crap. And you deserve better, Angel. You deserve someone who doesn't just forget about you like dust in the wind.
"But I guess that's one of the never ending mysteries of the Buffy and Angel saga. I know you love her and she... supposedly... loves you. So I'll leave it at that. You be the judge, although you've been doing a very crappy job of being the judge lately. You need a vacation. Get a tan. I'm sure you can do the tanning booths, right?"
I'm so happy I ACTUALLY got reviews! Thank you, thank you, THANK YOU! Reviews are like a drug, very much addicting. ::nods::
Hm, I don't think there's anything I need to say in this chapter...
Is there?
Oh wait, I realized I overplay things a lot. Make things more dramatic than they seem. It's a disease, I know, but just hang tight with me
... did I just say 'hang tight?'
Um. Yeah. On with the story.
- - - - - - - - - -
Chapter 3 "Angel!"
"Yo, Angel, man! You there?"
Wesley and Gunn stood at the doorway of Hyperion hotel. It was a mess, to be blunt. Books were thrown across the counter; some were even left on the floor. Papers were scattered and crumpled everywhere. Dust had probably collected itself in numerous places. It was cold and everything gave off a ghostly appearance. Nothing was in order anymore, the room wreaked of chaos. The old hotel showed more of an abandoned state than when they had first called this place their home. It was gloomy and ill used; it was finally a vampire lair.
Wesley mentally shivered at the thought.
"You think he's up there?" Gunn pointed to the stairs.
Wesley grimaced. Gunn would have to go up there by himself in Wesley's handicapped state. The idea wasn't too safe itself. With Angel not so... friendly, Wesley didn't want Gunn just charging himself up there unarmed. "Maybe you should..."
Gunn held up a stake. "Already ahead of you, English."
"Be careful, Gunn," Wesley warned as the warrior made his way up the fleet of stairs. "Angel wasn't all too... sane... when we last saw him."
Gunn nodded. "But if I go up there and that Angelus dude is waiting for me, I am seriously getting a raise."
Wesley quietly smiled to himself. Then he looked at his surroundings. Stairs all around him. "Uhhh, Gunn," he called. "I think I may need some help..."
- - - - - - - - - -
Gunn was positioned right in front of Angel's bedroom. He hadn't brought himself to knock yet, hadn't mustered up the courage. God, how had things gotten so messed up? If it was any other time, Gunn wouldn't even have thought about knocking. Okay, maybe a little tap, but that's about it. Angel was starting to feel like family, they all started to fill up that spot that was left by his sister, Alonna. He cursed under his breath. He remembered after he jammed that stake into his little sister's heart, he vowed he wouldn't let anyone else so close to him fall into a peril so dark.
And look how great that was turning out.
He shook his head, shaking off weary thoughts and emotions. He heard something though, an erratic tapping noise. Water? Good, Angel was taking a shower... that gave Gunn time to get one of those heroic speeches going, not that he was much for talking. He was usually the brawn of the team; he let Wesley do the jabbering. Wesley was good at that.
He gently turned the doorknob, skipping the knocking. The apartment was dark. Only the glow of the bathroom light illuminated the room. Maybe Gunn should sit, or did it come off too intimidated? He didn't want to be intimidated; he wanted to stand up to Angel. Just not piss him off too much.
Then it finally occurred to Gunn that he didn't actually hear Angel moving around. He didn't hear moving at all. He wagered if he should check on the vampire or not, he'd really like to keep his head for another sixty years, thank you very much. But, reluctantly, he complied with his gut instinct and headed for the shower room.
The sight made Gunn's innards want to come up his esophagus.
Angel, pale as a sheet, curled up in the farthest corner of the shower with a kitchen knife gleaming with stained blood. Gunn rushed to his fallen friend, turning off the running water before checking for Angel's wounds. There were cuts scattered on his arms, one running up his calf. Only two of them were deep, thank God. He flipped open his cell and, as fast as humanly possible, punched in the numbers to Angel Investigations.
"Come on, Cordy..." he silently prayed as the phone rang.
"Chase Investigations, how may I help you?" Finally - wait? What? Chase Investigations?!
"Cordelia?"
"Gunn?"
He pushed the business name away and grabbed a towel from the towel rack. "Uh, yeah, it's me."
"Is everything okay? Are you guys okay?" she asked, worried. "Angel didn't like... eat anyone?"
"No, but he's in some serious trouble," he could almost here her physically tense on the other side of the line. "Look, I need you to get over here quick."
"Is he okay? I mean, he's alive, right?"
"Cordelia, just get your ass down here!" he flipped the cover of his phone down, not really caring about saying his goodbyes at the moment.
Wrapping a towel around the damp vampire, he threw Angel's arm around his shoulder and attempted to haul the bigger man up from the ground. He was successful up to about Angel's bed where Gunn got Angel dressed in a fresh pair of boxers and pants as best as he possibly could.
He cursed again when he realized getting Angel down the stairs without dropping him like a rag doll was going to be very, very difficult if he didn't have another person here to help him. Wesley was downstairs in a wheelchair and couldn't even get up himself, and Cordelia was about as helpful as a small beach shovel.
Gunn gently laid Angel out on his bed, trying to keep his friend as comfortable as possible, before running back down to Wesley who looked hopelessly useless in his wheelchair. "Uh, Wes?"
Wesley looked up. "Ah, Gunn! That was fast, how's Angel?"
"Yeah, that's why I came down," Gunn started. "The guy don't look too hot."
Wesley's eyes grew wide. "You mean..." he couldn't swallow down the thought. "He's not..."
"He's not dead," Gunn said and Wesley sighed in relief. "But he looked a little suicidal to me."
"Suicidal?"
Even the thought of Angel becoming suicidal made anyone's stomach lurch. Angel was one of the strongest people Wesley knew and for the vampire to become somewhat suicidal had to be bad. Really bad.
"Well... not suicidal for a vampire. Look'd like he was trying to die from blood loss," Gunn said, taking a quick glance back up the stairs.
Wesley hung his head. This was getting more troubling by the second.
"I already called Cordelia, she's coming over here," Gunn informed, trying to hoist up Wesley's spirits.
Wesley subtly cleared his throat. "Good. That's good," he looked over to Gunn. "Where is he?"
"Upstairs and knocked out," Gunn said, walking over to one of the couches and sitting himself down with a heavy sigh. When had things gotten so out of control?
Before any of them could form another thought, Cordelia burst through the Hyperion doors; she looked frantic and disoriented, a rare look for Queen C. "Where's Angel?"
"Upstairs," Wesley answered. "He's... asleep."
"You mean unconscious?" she snorted impudently to the ex-Watcher. "I'm not that stupid, Wesley -"
"Cordelia, we found him... not on the most positive note?"
That seemed to get her attention. "Wait... what?"
"I found him up there and it looked bad- "Gunn started.
Cordelia held up her hand, not wanting to hear anymore. "Can I go see him?" she asked quietly, shoving her hands in her back pockets and looking at Wesley.
"Well... I'm not so sure Angel's approachable right now," Wesley cautioned. "If he were to wake up I'd think he'd be a little... lost."
"Don't worry," she said, flashing him a small, but genuine, smile. "If he decides to wake up, I'll call. I'm total resource girl."
With that she started to bound her way up the stairs while both her friends crossed their fingers and hoped everything boded well for the little less than carefree girl.
- - - - - - - - - -
Cordelia slowly closed the door behind her as she stepped through Angel's dark sanctuary. On a more or less normal day when Angel hadn't fired them, she wouldn't even have given a second thought about coming up here. This was one of the only places Angel could be totally and completely alone and he meant to keep it that way, therefore it was an off limits zone to she and Wesley. It felt so awkward now, like she was sticking her nose into some place that wasn't meant for sticking and it would be burnt off any second now.
She tiptoed her way to Angel's bedside to see the sheets stained in blood. Cordelia gasped, stepping closer to observe the wounds; they weren't severe, nothing super vampire healing wouldn't cure, but the thought on how he had gotten those cuts made her cringe in fear and... guilt, for some odd reason.
Taking a near by chair, she sat herself down next to where Angel lay. And then, after mustering up some courage and taming down her embarrassment, she began to speak to him; nothing much, at first, but something.
"Hey, Angel," Cordelia started, ready to spill out almost everything she had felt for the past couple months. "Haven't seen you since you went psycho vampire on us, but hey, no big, right? Okay, maybe it is a big – no offense. I mean, yeah, you've kind of been a little on the unflappable side since that Darla chick blew into town, but remember what I said? When Doyle died and you were all stoic guy? You don't need to be Mr. Unflappable around me, flap away for all I care, I can deal with. The Angel that fired us and pushed us away, I can't.
"Although, yeah. I know we haven't been a great example of support team 101, but we cared and you should have known we did. You don't have to be macho guy all the time; sensitive-Angel is always good sometimes, too. Yet, I guess we should have said something, you know? Not let you fall like this. And what are these?" she grabbed his hand and looked at the numerous cuts. "Suicidal much? And don't you dare tell me you fell when you get up. I've been to high school; I know what suicidal wrist slashing looks like."
Cordelia sighed and let his hand go, wishing he was awake and looking at her. "I just wish things were different; that all of this didn't happen and we were a team again. I mean, I love Wesley and Gunn, don't get me wrong, but I really miss you, Angel. You made everything right and clear and any word that doesn't mean murky. But now look at you. Do you know how scared I was, thinking that you might one day turn into Angelus again?"
She didn't realize that tears were starting to trail wet streams down her face. She wiped them away, absentmindedly. "And then, sometimes I wonder if I'm not good enough for you, as a friend. Like if Buffy, Ms. Golden- Sunshine, were here that you'd be good as new. Buffy always made you better and I feel like I'm only second best. Well I know no one comes before her in your heart, but like... I feel like I'm supposed to take care of you now since she's not around anymore and now, since everything that's happened, I can't. I just don't see why that little girl, who hasn't even mentioned to call ever since you gave up your humanity for her, can be so special to you. Honestly, ever since you left Sunnydale for her greater good, I think she's treated you like crap. And you deserve better, Angel. You deserve someone who doesn't just forget about you like dust in the wind.
"But I guess that's one of the never ending mysteries of the Buffy and Angel saga. I know you love her and she... supposedly... loves you. So I'll leave it at that. You be the judge, although you've been doing a very crappy job of being the judge lately. You need a vacation. Get a tan. I'm sure you can do the tanning booths, right?"