After the Storm
Chapter 11
By Vixen
Bad dreams had woken Connor again that night. Dreams of a past he was not ready to deal with just yet. It was getting to be a habit. Go to sleep only to wake up in the middle of the night. Tonight's nightmare had been less linear that usual: a forever night, dust and ash, and blood. Tons of blood. Fountains of it. The eeriest part of it all was that in the dream the destruction had pleased him. He had found sanctuary in it, it was demon blood after all, and they were made to bleed. Only when he woke up did he feel disgusted with the images that had plagued his mind. His body craved more sleep now, but he couldn't face that again and after lying in bed for a while he decided to get up.
It was still hours till dawn, but he could find something to occupy his time. Dressing quietly, he went through the motions of readying himself for the never-ending war that raged out on the streets. Vampires, demons, other weird things that went bump in the night, he would kill them all. In his foggy haze, he barely realized what he was doing. It was like he was in between worlds, the rage driving him and nothing else. It was easy to fall into this state of mind after a night lacking sleep. The thoughts clouded, the memories mixed, and he was both the old and the new and yet neither.
Grabbing a stake Faith had left behind with her other things, he took to the streets. He hunted that night; dragged out every demon he could find and did his best impression of the Destroyer he used to be. It was the anger that drove him, over what the Senior Partners had done, over what he was unable to do, over the fact that he had been rebuffed by Faith. He remembered this; the fiery feeling that tensed each muscle and the release when he had succeeded at destroying each of his targets.
He had just killed another; he wiped the sweat from his brow with his arm and stared down at it. It didn't belong in this world, it wasn't right. It was dead now, but somehow that didn't stop him. Connor assaulted its corpse, punching it in its face again and again until his hands bled. "What are you.. you don't belong here.. this world is too good for you.. you don't belong here... you don't.."
Connor stopped when he had become exhausted, and looked at what he had done. Under the weight of his own blows, the thing's face had become a muddied puddle of bones and tendons, broken and bare. Lifeless. He blinked, most of the night was a blur, he could barely remember how he had gotten to that street or whether or not the demon had been a good one or not. Connor noticed then that he was crying, and wiped the tears away forcefully.
His heart raced, and his breath came in shallow gasps. Standing up, he took a stumbled step away from the corpse, pushing his hair out of his eyes with his hand. The stake, the only weapon he had with him, dropped to the ground with a heavy echo. It was evil, or it might have been evil, but he still couldn't get past what he had felt. The Destroyer had come out to play, teetering on the edge, and it had been fun for a while. Not fun actually, he thought, just a release of pressure that had been building over the past month, and especially those last few days.
"Good boy. You got it," A voice whispered on the wind, catching Connor's attention. He knew that voice, but it couldn't be him. Holtz was dead. Long dead.
Connor looked around anxiously, he listened to the city noise, waiting to catch another sound from the man he knew was dead and praying that he wouldn't. No more voices came, only the common far away city noises of the night. He could feel it again though, the presence from the beach. It was hunting him, but still too far out of reach to be found. It was lurking in the shadows, painstakingly hidden from view. It would only strike when the moment was right, when it's whole plan had come together. Connor shivered in the cold night air, wondering why he hadn't brought a jacket. He down the street, deep in thought and barely noticed when he heard another voice.
"Hey, kid. That you?" It was Faith. She seemed confused to find him wandering around in the middle of the night. Coming up behind him, she fell in step with him, "What are you doing out here? I thought you were back at the hotel catching some Zs."
"I couldn't sleep," He answered coldly, the hurt from her rejection earlier still not completely healed. "Why do you care, anyway?"
"No reason, geez," Faith gestured wildly, "Just curious. Excuse me for trying to have a conversation with you." She shook her head, then looking at him curiously she noted, "You look a little wired. See a ghost or something?"
"Or something."
"Right, well, I was gonna go hit one last street. All the action seems to be coming from this one tiny spot over on 53rd and 4th street. All the vamps I met tonight were talking of some big shindig that's going on over there. You wanna come?" They both knew that in her own special way, Faith was apologizing. She didn't like doing it, she was never the heart-to-heart kind of girl, but she still felt bad about the hurting the kid's feelings. Now he was wandering around in the middle of the night looking like someone who just saw their cat get run over. The least she could do was show him some sort of action. He looked like he could handle himself well, and kicking ass had always been comfort food where Faith was concerned.
Connor mumbled something along the lines of yes, and they began the long walk over to the area Faith had been picking up clues from. It was thirty blocks away, but they managed to make it there within fifteen minutes. The prickly hairs on the back of Faith's neck stood up when they got a ten blocks away from the spot. Whatever it was, the power it was emanating was huge. It pulsated, making the street below Faith feel like it was moving slightly underneath her feet, little mini earthquakes that could only be felt by those of a supernatural origin. A look from Connor told Faith that he felt it too.
Black clouds could be seen circling the sky by the time they reached a five- block radius from where the energy was coming from. It was almost dawn, yet there were no signs that this area of the city was waking up. There weren't even signs that this neighborhood was occupied at all. It felt dead, completely devoid of life. Like everyone had just decided to get up and move at the same time. As the morning wore on it became apparent that the sky was darker than it should have been at that time.
The black clouds stood out more, and from them stemmed a chilling dreariness. Each step they took, it was harder to keep going forward, fear wafted through the empty streets. Though they had each fought their share of badness, even they were not immune to the power of the spell that seemed to tell them to run.
"For the amount of vamps that kept hollering about this place," Faith said, taking a look around her surroundings. "It seems pretty dead."
"Can you blame them? Something is seriously not right with this place."
"Hey, kid, what do ya suppose that is?" Faith asked as she pointed to what looked like an upside down waterfall. It was where all the black clouds were coming from. The fountain of bad came directly out of the ground, spurting what appeared to be black liquid up from its geyser. The more they looked at it, the worse its image became to their minds.
"I don't know, but whatever it is I don't like it." Connor was beginning to feel rather sick, dizzyingly sick. He took a step away from the geyser and received a worried look from Faith. Pushing down the queasiness, he told her, "I don't think we can kill this thing, if it's even alive. We should leave and come back with more information."
Faith shot the black geyser of unfun death a look, her eyes moving upward towards the clouds that loomed over them. Smog from the clouds was hovering in the air, falling downward towards the two of them. It was Los Angeles, a city filled with smog, but this topped the chart. Whatever wave of sickness had just hit Connor, she was beginning to feel too. It was an icky feeling, like a weight sitting on top of her chest, crushing her under its power. "Fine, we'll come back later."
The slayer didn't like leaving the scene without getting into her action packed routine, but she didn't know what this thing was or how to fight it. The best way to fight it would be to go the whole gathering information routine, even though she hated that plan.
After moving out of the area, they had both begun to feel better. However, emotionally Connor was still a wreck from what had happened earlier that night. Faith was content not to pry though, she hated people barging in on her own life and had learned it was best not to get too involved in other people's affairs.
Halfway back to the hotel, they had decided to stop at a McDonald's to get some breakfast. The store was actually open and doing some decent business, most of the people in the city having forgotten about their messages their intuitive sixth sense had been sending them. There were a few people inside the eatery reading the morning newspaper; Connor caught sight of one of the headlines: Wolfram and Hart Building Crumbles Under Pressure.
"Great, more bad news," Connor mumbled to no one in particular. Now his parents, who watched the news habitually each night, would be calling to check up on him. His cover story was all but blown now. Faith didn't seem to notice his distress as she ordered some pancakes and eggs. She began flirting up the guy at the counter in an attempt to get her meal for free while Connor aimlessly watched the people on the other line.
There was a lean man with short black hair wearing a white dress shirt that was arguing with his daughter over whether or not she was too old to get a Happy Meal. She was about nine years old and wore her hair up in a pony tied with a pink ribbon. "Will you shut up already," The man gruffly asked his daughter, "You're not getting one."
Connor had seen them before, and all too suddenly the memory of where and when came flooding back to him. Connor remembered the exact conversation, flashing back to it for an instant. You're not holding her right. You're not holding her right. The words rambled through his brain, as he recalled feeling the man's arm break under his fist back in the mall. It had been a year ago, but the guilt was just as fresh.
When the man shot him a questioning look, but then returned to arguing with his daughter, not remembering anything from the mall. To him it had just been another ordinary trip to the mall with his daughter, for Connor it had been the defining moment of both his lives. Connor stepped out of the line to the counter, "Oh, God."
Without giving an explanation to Faith, Connor quickly headed for the door of the fast food restaurant and began running back to the hotel; but he knew the Hyperion wasn't really a safe haven and no matter how far or how fast he ran he'd never be able to overcome the past.
.................................................................
Hello, my name is Vixen, and I am a feedback whore.
Chapter 11
By Vixen
Bad dreams had woken Connor again that night. Dreams of a past he was not ready to deal with just yet. It was getting to be a habit. Go to sleep only to wake up in the middle of the night. Tonight's nightmare had been less linear that usual: a forever night, dust and ash, and blood. Tons of blood. Fountains of it. The eeriest part of it all was that in the dream the destruction had pleased him. He had found sanctuary in it, it was demon blood after all, and they were made to bleed. Only when he woke up did he feel disgusted with the images that had plagued his mind. His body craved more sleep now, but he couldn't face that again and after lying in bed for a while he decided to get up.
It was still hours till dawn, but he could find something to occupy his time. Dressing quietly, he went through the motions of readying himself for the never-ending war that raged out on the streets. Vampires, demons, other weird things that went bump in the night, he would kill them all. In his foggy haze, he barely realized what he was doing. It was like he was in between worlds, the rage driving him and nothing else. It was easy to fall into this state of mind after a night lacking sleep. The thoughts clouded, the memories mixed, and he was both the old and the new and yet neither.
Grabbing a stake Faith had left behind with her other things, he took to the streets. He hunted that night; dragged out every demon he could find and did his best impression of the Destroyer he used to be. It was the anger that drove him, over what the Senior Partners had done, over what he was unable to do, over the fact that he had been rebuffed by Faith. He remembered this; the fiery feeling that tensed each muscle and the release when he had succeeded at destroying each of his targets.
He had just killed another; he wiped the sweat from his brow with his arm and stared down at it. It didn't belong in this world, it wasn't right. It was dead now, but somehow that didn't stop him. Connor assaulted its corpse, punching it in its face again and again until his hands bled. "What are you.. you don't belong here.. this world is too good for you.. you don't belong here... you don't.."
Connor stopped when he had become exhausted, and looked at what he had done. Under the weight of his own blows, the thing's face had become a muddied puddle of bones and tendons, broken and bare. Lifeless. He blinked, most of the night was a blur, he could barely remember how he had gotten to that street or whether or not the demon had been a good one or not. Connor noticed then that he was crying, and wiped the tears away forcefully.
His heart raced, and his breath came in shallow gasps. Standing up, he took a stumbled step away from the corpse, pushing his hair out of his eyes with his hand. The stake, the only weapon he had with him, dropped to the ground with a heavy echo. It was evil, or it might have been evil, but he still couldn't get past what he had felt. The Destroyer had come out to play, teetering on the edge, and it had been fun for a while. Not fun actually, he thought, just a release of pressure that had been building over the past month, and especially those last few days.
"Good boy. You got it," A voice whispered on the wind, catching Connor's attention. He knew that voice, but it couldn't be him. Holtz was dead. Long dead.
Connor looked around anxiously, he listened to the city noise, waiting to catch another sound from the man he knew was dead and praying that he wouldn't. No more voices came, only the common far away city noises of the night. He could feel it again though, the presence from the beach. It was hunting him, but still too far out of reach to be found. It was lurking in the shadows, painstakingly hidden from view. It would only strike when the moment was right, when it's whole plan had come together. Connor shivered in the cold night air, wondering why he hadn't brought a jacket. He down the street, deep in thought and barely noticed when he heard another voice.
"Hey, kid. That you?" It was Faith. She seemed confused to find him wandering around in the middle of the night. Coming up behind him, she fell in step with him, "What are you doing out here? I thought you were back at the hotel catching some Zs."
"I couldn't sleep," He answered coldly, the hurt from her rejection earlier still not completely healed. "Why do you care, anyway?"
"No reason, geez," Faith gestured wildly, "Just curious. Excuse me for trying to have a conversation with you." She shook her head, then looking at him curiously she noted, "You look a little wired. See a ghost or something?"
"Or something."
"Right, well, I was gonna go hit one last street. All the action seems to be coming from this one tiny spot over on 53rd and 4th street. All the vamps I met tonight were talking of some big shindig that's going on over there. You wanna come?" They both knew that in her own special way, Faith was apologizing. She didn't like doing it, she was never the heart-to-heart kind of girl, but she still felt bad about the hurting the kid's feelings. Now he was wandering around in the middle of the night looking like someone who just saw their cat get run over. The least she could do was show him some sort of action. He looked like he could handle himself well, and kicking ass had always been comfort food where Faith was concerned.
Connor mumbled something along the lines of yes, and they began the long walk over to the area Faith had been picking up clues from. It was thirty blocks away, but they managed to make it there within fifteen minutes. The prickly hairs on the back of Faith's neck stood up when they got a ten blocks away from the spot. Whatever it was, the power it was emanating was huge. It pulsated, making the street below Faith feel like it was moving slightly underneath her feet, little mini earthquakes that could only be felt by those of a supernatural origin. A look from Connor told Faith that he felt it too.
Black clouds could be seen circling the sky by the time they reached a five- block radius from where the energy was coming from. It was almost dawn, yet there were no signs that this area of the city was waking up. There weren't even signs that this neighborhood was occupied at all. It felt dead, completely devoid of life. Like everyone had just decided to get up and move at the same time. As the morning wore on it became apparent that the sky was darker than it should have been at that time.
The black clouds stood out more, and from them stemmed a chilling dreariness. Each step they took, it was harder to keep going forward, fear wafted through the empty streets. Though they had each fought their share of badness, even they were not immune to the power of the spell that seemed to tell them to run.
"For the amount of vamps that kept hollering about this place," Faith said, taking a look around her surroundings. "It seems pretty dead."
"Can you blame them? Something is seriously not right with this place."
"Hey, kid, what do ya suppose that is?" Faith asked as she pointed to what looked like an upside down waterfall. It was where all the black clouds were coming from. The fountain of bad came directly out of the ground, spurting what appeared to be black liquid up from its geyser. The more they looked at it, the worse its image became to their minds.
"I don't know, but whatever it is I don't like it." Connor was beginning to feel rather sick, dizzyingly sick. He took a step away from the geyser and received a worried look from Faith. Pushing down the queasiness, he told her, "I don't think we can kill this thing, if it's even alive. We should leave and come back with more information."
Faith shot the black geyser of unfun death a look, her eyes moving upward towards the clouds that loomed over them. Smog from the clouds was hovering in the air, falling downward towards the two of them. It was Los Angeles, a city filled with smog, but this topped the chart. Whatever wave of sickness had just hit Connor, she was beginning to feel too. It was an icky feeling, like a weight sitting on top of her chest, crushing her under its power. "Fine, we'll come back later."
The slayer didn't like leaving the scene without getting into her action packed routine, but she didn't know what this thing was or how to fight it. The best way to fight it would be to go the whole gathering information routine, even though she hated that plan.
After moving out of the area, they had both begun to feel better. However, emotionally Connor was still a wreck from what had happened earlier that night. Faith was content not to pry though, she hated people barging in on her own life and had learned it was best not to get too involved in other people's affairs.
Halfway back to the hotel, they had decided to stop at a McDonald's to get some breakfast. The store was actually open and doing some decent business, most of the people in the city having forgotten about their messages their intuitive sixth sense had been sending them. There were a few people inside the eatery reading the morning newspaper; Connor caught sight of one of the headlines: Wolfram and Hart Building Crumbles Under Pressure.
"Great, more bad news," Connor mumbled to no one in particular. Now his parents, who watched the news habitually each night, would be calling to check up on him. His cover story was all but blown now. Faith didn't seem to notice his distress as she ordered some pancakes and eggs. She began flirting up the guy at the counter in an attempt to get her meal for free while Connor aimlessly watched the people on the other line.
There was a lean man with short black hair wearing a white dress shirt that was arguing with his daughter over whether or not she was too old to get a Happy Meal. She was about nine years old and wore her hair up in a pony tied with a pink ribbon. "Will you shut up already," The man gruffly asked his daughter, "You're not getting one."
Connor had seen them before, and all too suddenly the memory of where and when came flooding back to him. Connor remembered the exact conversation, flashing back to it for an instant. You're not holding her right. You're not holding her right. The words rambled through his brain, as he recalled feeling the man's arm break under his fist back in the mall. It had been a year ago, but the guilt was just as fresh.
When the man shot him a questioning look, but then returned to arguing with his daughter, not remembering anything from the mall. To him it had just been another ordinary trip to the mall with his daughter, for Connor it had been the defining moment of both his lives. Connor stepped out of the line to the counter, "Oh, God."
Without giving an explanation to Faith, Connor quickly headed for the door of the fast food restaurant and began running back to the hotel; but he knew the Hyperion wasn't really a safe haven and no matter how far or how fast he ran he'd never be able to overcome the past.
.................................................................
Hello, my name is Vixen, and I am a feedback whore.