After The Storm
Chapter 15
By Vixen
With a grumpy frown fixed upon her face, Faith walked into the Hyperion and plopped herself down on the steps. The night had been one of the worst since arriving in Los Angeles, if only because the only lead they had on the Orb needed to open the portal had been a bust. She looked up as Connor entered the hotel shortly afterwards, wearing the same annoyed expression as the slayer. Soundlessly she watched as he stowed his new toy behind the front desk, a broadsword. The only thing they had found at the address Willow had provided them.
"Well, that was embarrassing," Faith noted as rested her tired feet. Slayer strength or not, walking the sixty blocks to the old warehouse and back again was killer on her feet. Transportation in the city was still iffy, especially after dark. "Show up for a party, only to realize we're late and nobody's there."
Connor only nodded, not paying much attention to Faith's attempt at conversation.
Upon hearing the two of them come back, Willow had gotten out of bed. She hadn't even fallen asleep yet even though it was past two in the morning. Instead, she had laid awake anxiously awaiting word from the other two. She joined them in the lobby, wearing a pair of Scooby Doo pajama pants and a white tank top, "What's with all the long faces? Did you find the dealer?"
"We found.. pieces of him," Connor answered hesitantly, images from the scene replaying in his mind. He pushed back a forthcoming shudder and looked up at the witch. Her mood had soured with the grim realization.
Then Faith added, "Someone must have gotten to him first. Dahok was dead and the whole place was cleaned out. Looked like whoever did it didn't want us to reopen the portal."
Willow sat down next to Faith, suddenly feeling as grumpy as the other two, "There goes that plan. Unless we can track down whoever got to the dealer, but that's going to take another couple of days at the very least." The collective mood was stiffing to the witch, looking at each aura she could see their pain and confusion. The lives of demon fighters were never easy. Glancing at the clock on the far wall, she remarked, "Best thing we can do now is get some sleep. We'll figure out a new plan tomorrow. Hopefully things will look a little better in the morning."
Faith reluctantly agreed, even though Willow's ever-positive mood was less than endearing. Tiredly, the slayer followed Willow up to the second floor. A warm bed would feel so very welcoming at the moment. She looked behind her, where Connor was still sitting on the stairs, deep in thought. Faith gave a fleeting thought to talking to him, but shrugged the idea away. They weren't really friends, barely even talked lately, there was no need for her to worry about him so much. Yet, she couldn't push her concern for him completely.
Connor had been expecting a fight that night, and a part of him still wanted one. They had arrived at the warehouse a little too late, finding the place already ambushed and lacking anything to fight. Too late. Always too late. It was the common element of his life since returning to Los Angeles a week ago. He heard the two bedroom doors upstairs shut, and knew he should be retiring too. He couldn't though, not while still wanting to kick some ass. Faith and him had met a vampire while walking back to the Hyperion, but the slayer had killed it before Connor could even get a decent punch in.
Instead of going to bed, Connor crossed the lobby of the hotel and opened the door that led to the basement. He moved down the wooden stairs, and a small exercise area came into view. There was a punching bag, some free weights, and various weapons hanging on the wall. Not anything expensive, most of the better weapons had been packed up and carted across town, taken to Wolfram and Hart when Angel Investigations had moved. These were just the leftovers, unimportant and replaceable.
He'd been spending more and more time down there. Whenever he couldn't sleep at night, when the nightly dreams got to be too much and Connor needed a release. Or those few hours when he was awake during the day, before the things that went bump in the night came out to play. It had been his father's training area, but now it belonged to him.
Tossing his jacket on the bottom step of the stairs, Connor moved over towards the punching bag. Working off some steam, he gave it a few jabs at first before getting progressively harder. Combinations of right and left hooks left little dents in the bag as it swung on it's heavy chains, making a clanking sound every time Connor punched it. Luckily the girls were two floors up and wouldn't be able to hear him, they'd only worry about him. He didn't want that, couldn't afford it.
The bag jumped and shook as Connor worked out his emotions; everything he had been holding inside he took out on the inanimate target. Furiously, he began a rhythmic series of moves, feeling tired muscles spring into action.
Engrossed in his technique, Connor barely heard the footsteps behind him. Stopping in the middle of a left hook, he turned sharply. Something was there watching him. It wasn't one of the girls though; he knew their scents already. It didn't smell like them, in fact it didn't smell at all, like a ghost. A presence leaving no discernable clues that it was actually there, unless you counted the fact that Connor could feel it watching him. It was like the day at the beach, or when he thought he heard Holtz's voice. It was the same presence; it gave him the same creepy feeling. Only this time Connor wasn't going to let it get away.
Taking a guarded step towards the middle of the room. Connor's eyes narrowed, going over every inch of the room carefully, watching for movement. He looked behind some boxes, most likely left over from the big move to Wolfram and Hart, but found no one. Hearing the footsteps again behind him, Connor quickly spun around and came face to face with the thing that had been stalking him.
Shocked with what he was looking at, Connor took a step backwards. It was him, but not exactly. This Other-Connor had a paler skin tone, like he had spent his life growing up in a cave. Other-Connor also had longer and shaggier hair, rather poor fashion sense (animal skins.. somehow Connor doubted that would ever be a new trend), and a vengeful glint in his eyes. Finding his voice, Connor managed to get out a few words, "O...kay.. This is new."
Other-Connor only glared at him, closing the space between them.
Connor looked the doppelganger up and down, reaching out tentatively to test the tangibility of what he was viewing. When his hand went straight though, touching nothing but air Connor blinked, hoping that would be enough to clear this vision from his eyes. It didn't work. More than a little confused, he asked, "What are you?"
"I'm you. Before Angel started messing around with our memories." Other- Connor's voice dripped with anger while saying the A-word, he had apparently not gotten over the need for revenge yet. Connor could remember those days, but couldn't connect with that feeling anymore. Then Other- Connor added, "You know he only changed the past to get us out of the way. You know he wanted to get rid of us, and you're still want to help him."
"That's not true," Connor shook his head, even though it was still a doubt in his mind. Ever since he had learned about the spell, subconsciously he wondered if getting rid of him was part of the reason why Angel had done what he did. He didn't like to think that way, but it had still been a possibility buried deep in his mind. Though, if that was true Angel wouldn't have shown up at the coffee shop a week ago, just wanting to see him one last time before the inevitable happened. Straightening up, he replied with greater strength in his voice, "And I'm not like you. I have a family, a life now."
"That's not real, they don't matter," Other-Connor growled, "That's only what Angel created. Only more lies to cover up the truth."
"You don't understand," Connor said dismissively. There was a hint of pity in his voice, mixed with regret. So much time had been wasted back when he had been the same as his doppelganger, when he only thought of revenge and getting even with his father. Getting back to business he added, "Why are you here? Is there something you want or are you just here to annoy me to death?"
"I'm here to stop you from reopening the portal," Other-Connor told him, "Any way I can."
"Well, considering you can even touch me," Connor waved a hand through the space his twin occupied, touching nothing but air. "There's really nothing you can do about it. So why don't you go back to whatever hell you came from and leave me alone, okay?"
"I'll find a way. I won't let you bring that monster back into the world. He's not the hero you wish he was. He should be locked away," Other-Connor gestured to the cage that occupied half the room. It had been installed when Angel Investigations had needed information on The Beast. The bars were thick and sturdy, the best they could afford when they had put it in there. Safety had been the main concern, not the cost. Safety against Angelus, against the thing that wore his father's face from time to time, against the evil the vampire's true nature could do. Connor starred at it, knowing it would always be impossible to have the normal father-son relationship other people possessed. He'd never be able to completely trust his father, not with Angelus lurking somewhere underneath waiting to paint the world a macramé red. "Get out of here."
"Why? Have you turned into a liar just like the rest of them? Have you turned your back on the truth so long you can't face it anymore?" Other- Connor moved closer, "Or are you still The Destroyer underneath it all?"
It was Connor's greatest worry, that he had not changed as much as he hoped. That all the things his normal life had given him meant nothing. Connor couldn't go back to being what he was, he wouldn't. It hurt to even consider the path his life had taken. Screaming, he attacked his twin, "Get OUT!"
He threw wild punches through Other-Connor's head, knowing they would not connect, but that didn't matter in his rage. Furiously, Connor screamed through gritted teeth. The only result of his onslaught was more agitation and a chuckling sound from Other-Connor that seemed unnatural coming from him.
The door at the top of the stairs opened, halting Connor in his attack. He looked up as Faith stopped a few steps from the basement floor. She was already in her sleep clothes and looked like she had just gotten out of bed, "Hey, kid, who are you talking to?"
His attention turned back to the phantom he'd been fighting, or trying to fight, but it had vanished. Connor ran a hand through his hair and fished for an excuse, "Uh.. no one." Faith glanced around the basement, seeing nothing out of the ordinary. Hoping she would buy his lame excuse Connor added nervously, "Really. No one's here but me."
She nodded absently and walked back upstairs. With Connor's above average hearing he could make out her muttering, "I swear that kid gets weirder and weirder each and every day."
Connor sighed; he was alone once more. Faith had accepted his lie, but he knew what she was thinking. She'd been giving him wary glances for a week now, just waiting for him to crack. Hell, even he thought he was going crazy. Hearing things, seeing things.. but there had been something down there with him. Hadn't there? He'd met his new enemy face to face, if only that face hadn't been so familiar. At least he knew what he was fighting now.
Himself.
His past.
Connor only hoped he was strong enough to get through whatever his doppelganger threw at him, and brave enough to deal with a past filled with so many wrongs that could never be corrected completely.
.................................................
cough'FirstEvil'cough
Grr... I had to write this chapter twice when my computer ate it the first time. I hate technology. Sorry for the delay. I'm really trying to get back to posting every day.
Chapter 15
By Vixen
With a grumpy frown fixed upon her face, Faith walked into the Hyperion and plopped herself down on the steps. The night had been one of the worst since arriving in Los Angeles, if only because the only lead they had on the Orb needed to open the portal had been a bust. She looked up as Connor entered the hotel shortly afterwards, wearing the same annoyed expression as the slayer. Soundlessly she watched as he stowed his new toy behind the front desk, a broadsword. The only thing they had found at the address Willow had provided them.
"Well, that was embarrassing," Faith noted as rested her tired feet. Slayer strength or not, walking the sixty blocks to the old warehouse and back again was killer on her feet. Transportation in the city was still iffy, especially after dark. "Show up for a party, only to realize we're late and nobody's there."
Connor only nodded, not paying much attention to Faith's attempt at conversation.
Upon hearing the two of them come back, Willow had gotten out of bed. She hadn't even fallen asleep yet even though it was past two in the morning. Instead, she had laid awake anxiously awaiting word from the other two. She joined them in the lobby, wearing a pair of Scooby Doo pajama pants and a white tank top, "What's with all the long faces? Did you find the dealer?"
"We found.. pieces of him," Connor answered hesitantly, images from the scene replaying in his mind. He pushed back a forthcoming shudder and looked up at the witch. Her mood had soured with the grim realization.
Then Faith added, "Someone must have gotten to him first. Dahok was dead and the whole place was cleaned out. Looked like whoever did it didn't want us to reopen the portal."
Willow sat down next to Faith, suddenly feeling as grumpy as the other two, "There goes that plan. Unless we can track down whoever got to the dealer, but that's going to take another couple of days at the very least." The collective mood was stiffing to the witch, looking at each aura she could see their pain and confusion. The lives of demon fighters were never easy. Glancing at the clock on the far wall, she remarked, "Best thing we can do now is get some sleep. We'll figure out a new plan tomorrow. Hopefully things will look a little better in the morning."
Faith reluctantly agreed, even though Willow's ever-positive mood was less than endearing. Tiredly, the slayer followed Willow up to the second floor. A warm bed would feel so very welcoming at the moment. She looked behind her, where Connor was still sitting on the stairs, deep in thought. Faith gave a fleeting thought to talking to him, but shrugged the idea away. They weren't really friends, barely even talked lately, there was no need for her to worry about him so much. Yet, she couldn't push her concern for him completely.
Connor had been expecting a fight that night, and a part of him still wanted one. They had arrived at the warehouse a little too late, finding the place already ambushed and lacking anything to fight. Too late. Always too late. It was the common element of his life since returning to Los Angeles a week ago. He heard the two bedroom doors upstairs shut, and knew he should be retiring too. He couldn't though, not while still wanting to kick some ass. Faith and him had met a vampire while walking back to the Hyperion, but the slayer had killed it before Connor could even get a decent punch in.
Instead of going to bed, Connor crossed the lobby of the hotel and opened the door that led to the basement. He moved down the wooden stairs, and a small exercise area came into view. There was a punching bag, some free weights, and various weapons hanging on the wall. Not anything expensive, most of the better weapons had been packed up and carted across town, taken to Wolfram and Hart when Angel Investigations had moved. These were just the leftovers, unimportant and replaceable.
He'd been spending more and more time down there. Whenever he couldn't sleep at night, when the nightly dreams got to be too much and Connor needed a release. Or those few hours when he was awake during the day, before the things that went bump in the night came out to play. It had been his father's training area, but now it belonged to him.
Tossing his jacket on the bottom step of the stairs, Connor moved over towards the punching bag. Working off some steam, he gave it a few jabs at first before getting progressively harder. Combinations of right and left hooks left little dents in the bag as it swung on it's heavy chains, making a clanking sound every time Connor punched it. Luckily the girls were two floors up and wouldn't be able to hear him, they'd only worry about him. He didn't want that, couldn't afford it.
The bag jumped and shook as Connor worked out his emotions; everything he had been holding inside he took out on the inanimate target. Furiously, he began a rhythmic series of moves, feeling tired muscles spring into action.
Engrossed in his technique, Connor barely heard the footsteps behind him. Stopping in the middle of a left hook, he turned sharply. Something was there watching him. It wasn't one of the girls though; he knew their scents already. It didn't smell like them, in fact it didn't smell at all, like a ghost. A presence leaving no discernable clues that it was actually there, unless you counted the fact that Connor could feel it watching him. It was like the day at the beach, or when he thought he heard Holtz's voice. It was the same presence; it gave him the same creepy feeling. Only this time Connor wasn't going to let it get away.
Taking a guarded step towards the middle of the room. Connor's eyes narrowed, going over every inch of the room carefully, watching for movement. He looked behind some boxes, most likely left over from the big move to Wolfram and Hart, but found no one. Hearing the footsteps again behind him, Connor quickly spun around and came face to face with the thing that had been stalking him.
Shocked with what he was looking at, Connor took a step backwards. It was him, but not exactly. This Other-Connor had a paler skin tone, like he had spent his life growing up in a cave. Other-Connor also had longer and shaggier hair, rather poor fashion sense (animal skins.. somehow Connor doubted that would ever be a new trend), and a vengeful glint in his eyes. Finding his voice, Connor managed to get out a few words, "O...kay.. This is new."
Other-Connor only glared at him, closing the space between them.
Connor looked the doppelganger up and down, reaching out tentatively to test the tangibility of what he was viewing. When his hand went straight though, touching nothing but air Connor blinked, hoping that would be enough to clear this vision from his eyes. It didn't work. More than a little confused, he asked, "What are you?"
"I'm you. Before Angel started messing around with our memories." Other- Connor's voice dripped with anger while saying the A-word, he had apparently not gotten over the need for revenge yet. Connor could remember those days, but couldn't connect with that feeling anymore. Then Other- Connor added, "You know he only changed the past to get us out of the way. You know he wanted to get rid of us, and you're still want to help him."
"That's not true," Connor shook his head, even though it was still a doubt in his mind. Ever since he had learned about the spell, subconsciously he wondered if getting rid of him was part of the reason why Angel had done what he did. He didn't like to think that way, but it had still been a possibility buried deep in his mind. Though, if that was true Angel wouldn't have shown up at the coffee shop a week ago, just wanting to see him one last time before the inevitable happened. Straightening up, he replied with greater strength in his voice, "And I'm not like you. I have a family, a life now."
"That's not real, they don't matter," Other-Connor growled, "That's only what Angel created. Only more lies to cover up the truth."
"You don't understand," Connor said dismissively. There was a hint of pity in his voice, mixed with regret. So much time had been wasted back when he had been the same as his doppelganger, when he only thought of revenge and getting even with his father. Getting back to business he added, "Why are you here? Is there something you want or are you just here to annoy me to death?"
"I'm here to stop you from reopening the portal," Other-Connor told him, "Any way I can."
"Well, considering you can even touch me," Connor waved a hand through the space his twin occupied, touching nothing but air. "There's really nothing you can do about it. So why don't you go back to whatever hell you came from and leave me alone, okay?"
"I'll find a way. I won't let you bring that monster back into the world. He's not the hero you wish he was. He should be locked away," Other-Connor gestured to the cage that occupied half the room. It had been installed when Angel Investigations had needed information on The Beast. The bars were thick and sturdy, the best they could afford when they had put it in there. Safety had been the main concern, not the cost. Safety against Angelus, against the thing that wore his father's face from time to time, against the evil the vampire's true nature could do. Connor starred at it, knowing it would always be impossible to have the normal father-son relationship other people possessed. He'd never be able to completely trust his father, not with Angelus lurking somewhere underneath waiting to paint the world a macramé red. "Get out of here."
"Why? Have you turned into a liar just like the rest of them? Have you turned your back on the truth so long you can't face it anymore?" Other- Connor moved closer, "Or are you still The Destroyer underneath it all?"
It was Connor's greatest worry, that he had not changed as much as he hoped. That all the things his normal life had given him meant nothing. Connor couldn't go back to being what he was, he wouldn't. It hurt to even consider the path his life had taken. Screaming, he attacked his twin, "Get OUT!"
He threw wild punches through Other-Connor's head, knowing they would not connect, but that didn't matter in his rage. Furiously, Connor screamed through gritted teeth. The only result of his onslaught was more agitation and a chuckling sound from Other-Connor that seemed unnatural coming from him.
The door at the top of the stairs opened, halting Connor in his attack. He looked up as Faith stopped a few steps from the basement floor. She was already in her sleep clothes and looked like she had just gotten out of bed, "Hey, kid, who are you talking to?"
His attention turned back to the phantom he'd been fighting, or trying to fight, but it had vanished. Connor ran a hand through his hair and fished for an excuse, "Uh.. no one." Faith glanced around the basement, seeing nothing out of the ordinary. Hoping she would buy his lame excuse Connor added nervously, "Really. No one's here but me."
She nodded absently and walked back upstairs. With Connor's above average hearing he could make out her muttering, "I swear that kid gets weirder and weirder each and every day."
Connor sighed; he was alone once more. Faith had accepted his lie, but he knew what she was thinking. She'd been giving him wary glances for a week now, just waiting for him to crack. Hell, even he thought he was going crazy. Hearing things, seeing things.. but there had been something down there with him. Hadn't there? He'd met his new enemy face to face, if only that face hadn't been so familiar. At least he knew what he was fighting now.
Himself.
His past.
Connor only hoped he was strong enough to get through whatever his doppelganger threw at him, and brave enough to deal with a past filled with so many wrongs that could never be corrected completely.
.................................................
cough'FirstEvil'cough
Grr... I had to write this chapter twice when my computer ate it the first time. I hate technology. Sorry for the delay. I'm really trying to get back to posting every day.