OK Guys, I'm back with the next chapter! Sorry about the last one if you got confused, it does relate heavily to the plot, trust me. My story might do that every now and then, when it does remember that you don't have to understand, just remember it then you'll get it later! Anyway, here's the next chapter, it's the longest one yet but I think it's pretty cool, more fast paced than usual. Everything I coming together and the story is going to be a fast ride from here on.
Apocalypse Nowish
Chapter 9- Interwoven
Conner's sharp, hard stare on the thick blackness before him was suddenly interrupted by a jarring sound of scraping metal and a flood of streaming light, as dim as it was. He turned his head to the open door, against the painful light stood two men. As soon as he heard one of their shoes on the concrete he knew it was Gavin, the taller one he presumed to be his bulky employee. Conner had spent the last 3 hours in relentless, gripping pain, his chest was heavily bruised and it hurt him to do so little as to breathe. Not only had he been wallowing in his own self pity for giving in to a knife to the chest but also he had been swimming in pain. The room was air conditioned so at least he had not run thin of air. Conner just stared at Gavin as he switched on the light switch and wondered over to his chair. Conner was frightened by the nervous and slightly angry face Gavin bore. As Gavin sat down and stared at Conner's bruised chest. Conner's shirt was still ripped in two down the middle. The other man stepped away from the doorway, walking over to the table and standing at the ready. Conner's mind began to rush as he picked up a bad feeling in the stagnant air. He could feel they were not happy towards him. The way Gavin was staring coldly and the man behind him was lurking at the ready. His heart began to beat slightly faster. Never in his life had he been in such a situation, trapped, unable to fight back. It was the worst thing he had ever felt. Sure, the thing with his father had hurt him terribly but Conner was used to hurt, and the revenge he thirsted for his father had changed his spirit, changed the way he saw things. He might have even enjoyed it.
Gavin took a deep breath and stood up again, looking straight into Conner's eyes. "Conner, you know I'm not happy." Conner tried to force a smile, to show that he was impervious to fear.
"Why should I care how you feel."
"That's pretty pathetic I'm afraid." Conner forced a weak, comic cough.
"Conner, I really did think you were telling the truth." Conner's eyes widened with shock. The realisation swept over him; they didn't find him.
"But you weren't."
"I wasn't lying. He's there." Gavin shook his head.
"We checked the entire vicinity. Nothing."
"It's the truth!"
"It looks as though you need to be re-acquainted with the dagger. I think you two will get along great, be close friends."
Conner's heart was pounding; the fear was taking control once again.
"Please I swear I didn't." Gavin just looked at his weary, terrified face and sighed. "Alright. Introduce them." He said, still looking at Conner, smiling as he heard footsteps coming from behind him.
The man walked up to Conner, and, with a bored look on his face, slipped a small, gleaming dagger from his shirt pocket. Conner writhed to escape his hold, testing all the boundaries of his chains. The man whistled a haunting melody as he lowered the dagger to Conner's chest. Conner pulled himself backward against the wall. "Don't move" Said Gavin, watching intently.
The man swung back his arm and smashed it right into Conner's nose. His head was knocked against the wall and he screamed out in pain. The back of his head felt warm, and vividly painful. His head began to get faint, and he lowered it to face the ground. He felt blood trickle down his throbbing nose and weakly saw and heard it patter to the ground. Soon he was sick with the taste of it and the dark spots on the ground looked cruel and unreal. His eyes became wet with tears as he struggled with all the will he had to ignore the pain, scared he would soon whimper like a wounded dog. As his daze began to wear off the pain felt worse and worse, as though his head were being crushed and stabbed simultaneously. He spat some blood out of his mouth and watched as it splattered to the ground. Without warning the man grabbed his previously wounded hand and squeezed it. Conner threw his head to the side in a contorted manner, biting his lip to fend off the pain. He swallowed a yelp but at the same time let go of a tear, just a single stream of water rushed down his cheek and into his mouth, not tasted against the blood. The man ignored him and placed the dagger against his chest. Conner shivered at the feeling of cold, sharp metal, against his tendered skin Suddenly the man pressed harder, into the skin and carved downwards. Conner threw his head backwards and screamed to the roof. He felt every millimetre of the blade pass through his skin and the pain was overwhelmingly sharp and piercing. Suddenly the man took the knife off him and Conner swallowed blood as he saw the red-lipped blade and the warm trickles of blood that ran down his chest.
Gavin told the man to step back and walked right up to Conner, staring him coldly in the eyes. "WhereAngel?"
Conner struggled to keep his neck up and his gaze on Gavin. He stared right back into Gavin without reply.
"I expected a little more endurance. You seem to be falling apart and we haven't even got started. I thought you had a penchant for pain." He had a cruelly pleased smile across his face.
"I have a penchant for inflicting it."
"Yeah, most killers don't want to die. You have the words of someone who knows not what he is doing."
"I'm just giving you a wider view. In return you can give me a wider knowledge."
"Why do you want to know anyway."
"Because knowledge is power. And I want power."
"Power is only as strong as the way you achieved it."
Just as Gavin opened his mouth to reply, a loud ring tone erupted into the tense air. It cut off his words and he simply smiled with a stare as he reached into his shirt pocket and slid a cell phone out of it, dropping the flap and pressing it to his ear.
The man who had been torturing Conner stepped back from him and stood in waiting. Conner silenced his breathing as best he could and tried to concentrate on the muffled voice egressing from the weak speakers to Gavin's ears. Gavin was looking at the blood on the floor as he listened but through the corner of his eye he spotted an intense look of concentration present on Conner's face.
Conner leaned forward, desperate to make out the words that drifted into the air. Through the painful throbbing recurring in his head it was extremely hard to force himself to listen. The constant pain became more and more consuming.
at.
Conner struggled hard and heard only three words. Fortunately he was good at putting things together; Lynwood must be coming to see him. He knew just how much Wolfram and Hart had wanted to get their filthy hands on him ever since he was a baby and now the boss wanted to see his prize.
Through the severe pain and discomfort anger slowly began to rise up into Conner's thoughts. Dominating his emotions, bending his fragile mind to its will once again. He didn't care; anger could control him. His mind begged for it. Having blood on his hands was distraction for the pain he felt daily, the pain of regret and the pain of loss. He was weak willed and sought pain and means to deal it to substitute for the weakness he felt inside him. Revenge was his vessel. It carried him on his ride to death. Now these people had pained him, hurt him in ways beyond cuts and bruises. They had damaged his faint pride. Now vengeance was their hunter. Conner would kill them for the pain they caused him.
Conner had forgotten about listening now and just glared at Gavin, a piercing smile on his face.
"Ok. But can you jut hold on." Gavin smiled back at Conner and left the room, returning the phone to his ear as he left.
As Conner waited, thoughts of vengeance passing the time, he stared at the patch of blood he had created beneath him. Suddenly Gavin came in again. He stopped, looking at Conner for a second, before turning to the man. "We're taking him upstairs."
"Alright" The man pulled a small pistol from the back of his belt and pointed it at Conner. Conner smiled as darts spat into his bloody chest. He saw the room go to a dark, hazy glow before becoming unconscious.
------------
"Angel. How you going?" Gunn stood back from the grey lounge and looked down at the slumped figure before him.
"Yeah, getting better."
"Need some more blood?" Asked Fred from behind the reception desk.
"Probably. But I sure as hell don't want it. Too much of that stuff can sicken you." Fred almost cringed at the weirdness of that comment.
"Good to have you back is all I can say." Added Gunn.
"Likewise. While you were gone it was terrible."
"Yeah. We were stretched just looking for you."
"He didn't return. Makes sense." Angel muttered softly to himself.
"What was that?"
"You needn't mind looking for Conner now."
"Yeah. I can't believe that bastard did that to you." Replied Fred, making use of her hands by shifting paperwork and other documents.
"To us." Said Gunn.
"At least he had a reason, or thought he did." Angel replied, not sounding defensive, just acknowledging the fact that Conner was not just a heartless killer.
"News to me." Said Gunn.
"Yeah. Wesley didn't give us the complete picture."
"Holtz."
"I thought you said Holtz wanted Conner to stay with us." Fred said, sounding genuinely confused.
"Yeah, well, turns out he kinda lied."
"Damn! What's going on around here. Looks like a lot of people want you dead." Said Gunn.
"He had Justine kill him to frame me. Conner thinks I killed Holtz."
"So Holtz died a bitter old man, determined to seek revenge even in death." Fred said, after overcoming her reluctance to break the long reserved pause that followed Angel's words. The whole conversation was grinding Fred's happiness at Angel returning to the ground, she had had enough of hatred, revenge and betrayal. She was really sick of it; the only thing that kept her sane was the drive to repair things. She didn't know if Angel knew anything about what had happened to Cordelia but she hoped she did. She really didn't want any more heartbreak. She just couldn't take it.
"Hold on." Fred and Gunn bothered looked over to Angel as he said this. "Where are the others, Cordelia, Groo?" Finishing with a slight drop in enthusiasm
Gunn and Fred both swallowed the silent air and retreated their eyes to the floor, neither wanting to tell Angel what had happened.
"Guys." Said Angel, pleading for some positive body movements, hoping to God that they weren't going to say what it looked like they were. Amid the retreated looks and silent breaths Angel felt an unwanted sense of fear tapping him harshly on the back. Their solemn looks told him very quickly though he was fighting to deny it.
"She's" Fred started, struggling to finish through Angel's sudden pained look at her.
"Gone." Gunn finished for her, his voice evidently full of resentment at having to say it.
Angel let out a despairing sigh, lowering his tormented eyes to the floor and staring deeply into its rich green. Somehow searching for comfort, longing for escapism from the sudden burning pain he felt deep down inside him. His heart sank. What was happening to him? As he being punished? What had he done? He had fought so hard to be happy with his son, with Cordelia, with everyone. He had achieved it for a few days of bliss, well, not quite. So cruelly did his days of happiness leave, his son, betrayed him, the one he loved, gone. For some reason he didn't feel shocked, in fact the whole time he had been back in the hotel it had been as though he had been waiting for someone to tell him, to break the solemn thoughts he bore.
"That's what Lorne left for." Said Gunn, after struggling through minutes of discomforting silence.
As suddenly as it had broke the room was once again befallen into a dejecting silence. Gunn frowned, his thoughts burdened by Angel's mournful expression, his broken gesture. A refreshing swing of the front doors brought Gunn back to his right mind. Angel didn't look up.
"Speaking of," said Gunn, with a relieved expression.
"Hey kiddos, how's he hanging?" Came Lorne's jovial voice, drifting blithely through the thick, icy mood of the room. Angel turned his head at the sound of his voice. Lorne looked taken back with the fierce mournfulness yet strong determination that was present on his face. In fact Angel's face was a screwed up bundle of emotions pulling from all sides. It was weary, heartbroken, angry and determined all in a single glance.
"Ahh. Angel is no longer hanging. Good news. How are you buddy?"
"What did you find?" Said Angel harshly. Lorne sighed.
"Guess you two filled Angelcakes here in on what happened." Lorne received two nods from the background. "Lorne, let's skip the pre-information chit chat shall we? I've gotta find Cordy."
"I know. But that doesn't necessarily mean I can do anything about it." Angel frowned.
"I got nothing." Said Lorne, admitting his failure and sitting down on the steps.
Suddenly Angel got up. When he saw everyone staring at him disapprovingly he spluttered, "look, everybody, I know you're concerned and that'sgood but I'm fine. Really."
"I'm sure we'll find her Angel." Said Fred reassuringly.
"Yeah, me too. So, on the subject of Cordelia, I'm going out to get some info." Replied Angel, Straightening his coat.
"Off who exactly?"
"The one person I'm sure none of you have been desperate to ask."
"Wesley." Said Gunn, folding his arms and heaving an irritated sigh. Fred looked up from her office folders.
Angel walked towards the steps, and, with slight hesitation turned back to the group of people, Lorne being beside him on the steps.
"Wesley did a good thing guys. Whatever he and you have between each other is out the window while we look for Cordy. Personally I think I'm ready to forgive." With that Angel barged through the doors, leaving them swinging on their hinges.
"Great, now what are we gonna do?" Asked Gunn, looking over to Fred, who had put her papers down.
"I guess we return to normal." Fred said.
"Hmm, yeah, normal, without vision girl I don't think so."
"Well we have to try." She looked over to the phone, "at least we have the phone."
Gunn sighed again. Lorne looked up, frowning at the hotel, trying to work out how he would fit in this grand new scheme of things.
Lilah strolled briskly up a dank, steel stairwell, faintly lit by small lights on the tainted concrete walls. As she climbed her phone rang, shocking amongst the eerie silence of the place. Her heart jumped and she sighed with relief at the comforting ring tone.
"Hello, this is Lilah Morgan" she said, putting it lightly to her ear. She was no longer climbing the stairs.
--
"Lilah, it's Gavin." Said Gavin, walking swiftly down a crowded Wolfram and hart hallway. Swiftly avoiding the passing crowds of stuffy business people. He came to a light, bronze-coloured wooden door.
--
"Gavin? I'm giving you three seconds to give me a reason not to hang up on you."
--
Gavin burst through the doors, walking swiftly into the suave office that lay before his eyes. The shelves were neatly kept and packed with sleek looking decorations and archaic pieces. Lilah's computer remained on, it's screen burning white in the comfortable lighting.
"I've got some news for you."
--
Lilah sighed in defeat. "Alright fire away, but make it quick, I have an appointment."
--
"Lynwood's coming back." Gavin said, sliding open Lilah's desk drawers and shuffling through them. He held the phone to his ear with his shoulder.
--
Lilah frowned. "Why are you telling me this."
--
"He wanted me too."
--
Her soul was beginning to sink. If Lynwood returned then she would not only have to worry about her life and learning about the apocalypse but she would have to have her job on the line.
"Why is he coming back early? He's due a fortnight from now."
--
"Something came up."
Gavin's heart leaped as he raised a thick wad of papers from the drawer. 'Leave Initiative Report' was written in bold black letters across the top. He chuckled. This was supposed to be Lilah's ticket to praise and promotion. His mood swung slightly when he began to wonder why she would have left it there; he knew Lilah was smarter than that.
--
Lilah gulped when she heard the uncanny enthusiasm present in his voice. "Alright, what came up? Also, why the hell do you sound so happy?"
--
Gavin's smile broadened with pleasure. Now who was on top? That bitch thought she could outmatch him, the fool.
"I guess I could tell you. Do you really want to know?" He said as he pulled the screwdriver he had got from technical stores out of his pocket. He walked over to Lilah's computer and flipped it over to its bottom.
--
"Gavin, don't waste my time."
--
Gavin smiled again as he extracted the final screw and dropped it to the desk. He pulled the bottom off the computer and peered inside.
"OK then. I have captured Conner and am presently deleting your initiative report." He spoke with great satisfaction and pride.
He pulled out the hard drive of the computer and walked quietly over to one of Lilah's shelves.
--
Lilah shivered with a meshed feeling of anger and fear. Anger at herself and anger at the stupid whining bastard, Gavin. She should have known after giving him the intimidation treatment he'd go psycho. He was like one of those short people who never let things go and always strive to become taller than others through power. She was angry with herself as well. How could she have been so stupid, in this whole rush she had completely forgotten about Gavin and Lynwood. And now Gavin was deleting the only thing she would have to show. Top that off with the fact that Lynwood has been out to get her for months and her career didn't look good at all. Still, she sensed something slightly off about her reaction and after standing in the stairwell in silence for about 5 seconds she began to realised she didn't really care. Ever since the girl in the white room had spoken to her she had thought of Wolfram and Hart as a resource, not the other way around.
Suddenly this feeling began to consume her fears. Still, she was angry, even if she was not afraid of Wolfram and Hart, they were essential to whatever was coming. They were a resource she needed.
"Shit! Gavin you son of a bitch, leave it. I'm warning you."
--
Gavin placed the drive on her wooden shelf and picked up a heavy, flat bottomed, pyramid-shaped antique, smiling with a cruel smile of gratification and contempt.
"Yeah, only your warning means nothing to me any longer."
Gavin brought the pyramid down onto the drive with all his might, pleasured by the crushing noise that rung in his ears. Bits of the hard drive flew into the air and rolled across the shelf.
--
Lilah cringed as she heard a dismaying crunch clearly through the phone. The little bounces and clatters of pieces ringing unsparingly in her ears.
--
"You underestimated me Lilah. If you still think you can win, bringon."
And with those last words Gavin executed the call and left the office with the thick bundle of papers in his hands, closing the door softly behind him. He felt great. Beating his competition so proffessionaly and achieving so much in the span of a day gave him a tranquil ride, untouchable by Lilah. He was on easy street now.
--
"Gavin!" She heard the phone cut off but took no notice, hoping desperately that Gavin was still there and not even really paying attention to anything else. She calmed herself and listened to the dead tone for a little longer before turning to the stairwell and throwing the phone down the small gap between the curving stairs. She banged her hands fiercely against the metal railing. And watched the phone drift towards the inevitable collision. The satisfying crack of the phone hitting the concrete lightly soothing her rage. After a few minutes of admiring the shattered mess on the floor below Lilah resumed her, now swift, assent up the stair well.
She stopped, relieved, as she spotted the number '5' on the wall beside a corridor. She branched off the stairs and made her way down the dark, decrepit corridor. She spotted unmoving, silent figures hunched up at the very end of the corridor; she spotted them slightly blacker than the black of the hall. She knew that she would be perfectly visible to them, even if the light behind her was weak. She made a mock salute sign and saw a few of the figures lowering grasped menacing objects. She smiled.
Good, everything is going to plan.
Now ignoring the gun bearing shadowed figures she walked up to a grotty white door with the numbers '59' fastened heedlessly to it. She was impressed with the soldiers she had hired, now, in the pure silence, not even their breaths reached her ear. She raised her hand a knocked twice on the door. She heard cautious footsteps from behind the door, and soon she saw an eye appear in a small, recklessly punctured hole in the door. The eye looked around warily.
"Wesley, stop screwing around and open the door."
The eye disappeared and, after a loud click, the door swung inwards. Wesley stood, leaning against the doorframe and looked at Lilah curiously.
"Why, I assume that's why you came. I'd think screwing around is exactly what you have on you agenda." Lilah smiled with a patronising affection.
"Wow. You've really got me in a nutshell."
"Not bearing gifts I see."
"What. You got a toll now? Don't get too high on this Wes. You get just as much from as I do from you."
Wesley kept an oblivious, aroused smile all the while. "Come in." He said, turning around and stepping forward, watching Lilah in the window in front of him, waiting for her to step froward seductively, waiting for her to jump back into their little song. He knew the lyrics.
Instead, to his absolute shock she stepped forward slowly then whipped something from her back pocket and took a swift charge at Wesley, her pointed weapon raised, ready to strike the back of his neck. He could see he clearly in the window, and all though very hard to from a backwards vision, he predicted where the, now clearly syringe, she held would strike his neck. Decisively he swung back his arm and grabbed for Lilah's wrist, making sure that he had enough force to stop the needle's decent. He clasped tightly around her wrist and turned to face her. She stood before him, stunned by the outcome, her syringe-bearing wrist held tightly by Wesley's. Lilah finally got over it and screamed loudly. Wesley frowned with confusion at the whole situation, until, suddenly a group uniformed men barged into the room, yielding aimed Guns. Lilah was trying to drug her; he already knew this but he wasn't expecting her to be so thoroughly prepared for failure. His heart began to beat faster. What on Earth could she want this for, his mind raced but suddenly he knew he had to comply, no more thinking, just conformance. But suddenly an idea popped into his head.
The memory of tucking a small, folded note flashed vividly through his mind. He had given it to him so that he could be told information regarding Cordelia. He would probably be on his way now. And, of course, he had fed Angel his blood, according to his sources for vampire mythology it should remain vividly in his mind forever.
Quickly, Wesley swung his other arm behind his back and grabbed one of the daggers that were held by his belt. Before anyone else had time to react he sliced towards Lilah's wrist.
---
Driving a long a wide and relatively empty road, Angel revved his engine and, feeling the fresh night air blow fiercely into his face sped down the open road. It felt great to his sunken thoughts, to concentrate on everything else forcing its way into his mind. He was heading towards Wesley's house when, suddenly a memory cut into his breezy thinking. He remembered, very vaguely, Wesley shoving something in his shirt pocket. As he thought about it he felt it through his damp shirt. He pulled out the small, folded piece of paper and unfolded it. His eyes darted across the paper.
59
33 Evan's Ave.
He smiled. Wesley must have known the first thing he'd do was look for Cordelia. He didn't know why Wesley had moved location but he turned a right and headed for Evan's Ave.
--
A vivid streak of, dark, rich blood splattered across the floor below him. Wesley felt the unforgiving rush of pain as his knife had slashed across his skin. He had struck down with a precise swiftness, causing the blood to hit the floor loudly. He had no time to watch his hand drip with blood as the men surrounding his front had raised their rifles and looked on the edge, enforcing compliance with harsh, fearful glances, and ominously cocked rifles. Before they had time to shoot or do anything rash he released his grip on the bloody dagger, letting it fall to the ground with a clang. Lilah had retracted her arm the very second Wesley had cut deeply across his palm and released his grip. Wesley swallowed his pain and eyed the room. He stared dead strait at Lilah, who was still standing in front of him. She looked away slightly, so that their eyes just avoided contact. After moments of staring she looked back, now smiling, her face devoid of remorse or regret. Wesley had been a fool to trust her. Well, he never really trusted her; he just didn't see her as a threat. However angry he was with her, it was obvious that she didn't want him dead, therefore she must want him for something. It was strangely eager to discover what she needed from him.
The eerie sound of blood dripping was distracting and haunting as Lilah opened her mouth to speak.
"Wesley, I don't want to hurt you"
"You just want to use me." Wesley finished, smiling.
"Well done! You always were quick on the uptake though. Still, I bet you can't guess what I want to use you for." As soon as she stopped speaking she turned to one of the men behind her and told him to search Wesley for any more weapons. Wesley ignored the apprehensive man who approached cautiously and began to pat around his body for weapons. Wesley raised his hands as the man filed up his body, feeling his sides.
"Lilah. You know me, if this is interesting enough I'll come willingly. There is no need to keep me in chains."
The man swerved around behind Wes and pulled the second dagger from his belt, picking up the first as he retreated to his position.
"I couldn't take that chance, Wesley."
"You'll miss me."
"First I gotta find out whether I've got time to miss you."
Wesley's brow curved. "Wha"
"Let's go." Said Lilah, decisively. Two of the men walked behind Wesley and kept their guns at secure aim as Lilah gestured toward the door. Wesley and the two guards behind him were the last to leave.
The long journey down the stairs was irritating. Wesley wanted to get to whatever Lilah wanted him to do. Being marched around was not his ideal way to travel and every second suspecting eyes were peeled to his every move. Finally they reached the bottom, Lilah was leaving and Wesley saw her glance to the side before she swung open the door and stepped outside. Wesley scanned were she looked before and saw a small object lying in the middle of the concrete space. He squinted, now looking backwards and saw that it was a mobile phone. Now that they were on the concrete he saw the trail of blood he had left behind him and it still dripped methodically, a silent rhythm as he felt the trickle of blood roll down his hand.
Before he knew it he was outside once again, still closely dogged by the men behind him. A Black van pulled up in a strangely vacant parking spot. Lilah swung open the passenger door and stepped in, slamming it behind her. As he neared the van one of the men swang open the two back doors and he, along with the others hopped in. Wesley was shunted into the back and the men behind him closed the doors. He noted how professionally and efficiently that these men worked. He looked around at the silent, unmoving faces and, after receiving no sign of conversation retreated his head to the floor. Staring in thought. Although he felt a strange excitement he was glad, and quite proud of his plan. Hopefully the trail of blood should, at the very least, let Angel know he was in danger. It was kind of strange how that plan had kind of become conveniently available to him. Also he wondered about the mobile phone he had spotted on the floor. It had snagged Lilah's attention in an unusual way. He didn't even really think about the sudden choice Lilah had made to betray him like that. Although he noted how easy it had seemed to be for her.
----
Angel drove up the crowded street, his mind in overdrive trying to figure out the exact place he was looking for. Suddenly he saw a vacant car space and swerved into it from the clogged traffic. He mused its convenience. The air no longer blew comfortingly through his hair; the night air was warm and thick with noise and disruption.
He sighed and stepped out of the car and, upon looking at a shop, realised that he was virtually standing upon his target's doorstep. Walking down the street a short way, he paused at a moderately high, old, concrete building. He stared upwards, at the looming top of the imposing building, noticing how it stuck out against the night. He walked towards it, knowing that this was the place without the slightest of proof, it seemed to be the logical to find Wesley in his current state of mind. He walked into the doors, swinging them open and strolling casually into moderately large room, in the back corner there was an entrance to a stairwell. Angel stepped through and was daunted by the dank, unwelcoming feeling he felt. Suddenly something else popped into his thoughts. Something that, just then, he realised he had felt for a while, ever since he pulled up to the street. Amidst the thick collection of smells on the street, within this still air it was potent. It was blood, he smelt it vividly now; the more he mused the more it struck him, Wesley's blood. Now he could taste thickly in his mouth. He looked up in realisation. Wesley had fed him. He must have been forgone. Nonetheless he was even less resentful towards Wesley now, assured of the lengths he would go for forgiveness. Angel approached the foot of the stairs, beginning to see the dejecting spots of blood, trailed down the steps.
Angel suddenly began to dawn on the fact that what he could be facing is an emergency. Of course the blood could have been from Wesley's self-inflicted wound to save him. But somehow it seemed different. He doubted Wesley would be that careless. Angel erupted into a brisk stride, then a hasty jog, before finally breaking out into a sprint. He conquered the stairs quickly, watching each step disappear beneath his feet and smelling the strong trail of blood. He abruptly halted, no longer needing instructions he broke off from the stairs, sprinting towards a specific door down the dark hall. He skidded to a halt and looking down, observed the blood that lead to the door. Controlling the urge to bust down the door he knocked twice. Fidgeting widely as he waited for an answer. None came. He breathed in and stepped back from the door, coming at it with a sudden charge, lifting his leg and aiming the soul of his shoe to the centre of the door. His leg was thrown back from the door and so was he. Standing up once more he brushed off the dust that had stained his jacket. The door He must have gone through the barrier, now aware that he had completely neglected to realise that he could not even so much as put a foot or a finger through that door. Nonetheless he was staring through a thin blanket of floating debris from the door. The door itself lay flat on the floor.
What lay before him was a foul sight to see, saying the least. In the centre of the room lay a thickly blood coated dagger, amidst a small puddle of blood. He looked to the right and saw the black marks of sprayed blood covering the floor, almost to the wall. He looked to the left to see a dagger deeply embedded into the wall, its handle pointing menacingly towards him. The apartment itself was not too bad though; he mused, looking straight out the large lounge windows at his city, engulfed in the night. His quick reflection ended suddenly as he realised what he had to do. He had to find Wesley. He turned and sprinted back the way he came.
Diving off the last three steps he grabbed the door handle. Suddenly though, before he had time to yank open the door and go sprinting away he heard a ringing noise. He swivelled round, searching for the source of the echoing ring tone. Suddenly, a small object in the shadows of the stairs above it sagged his glance. He ran over to it, determined to get to it before he missed the call. It felt odd that he cared so much about it, something though, something made him feel it had to be done. He grabbed it, then, shocked as it practically crumbled in his hands; he struggled to keep it together. Surprised that it actually still worked he placed it to his ear. The phone continued its incessant ringing. Angel rolled his eyes as he held it in front of him and fumbled for the button that would answer the call. "They have to make everything so damn complicated."
He pressed the button and snatched it to his ear. Whoever was on the other end began explaining something without Angel's reply.
"Lilah. This is Dylan. It's about your report. Gavin pu" Angel hang up as soon as he could after he heard the name, Lilah. Angel dropped the phone again and it clattered across the ground, shattering and leaving small bits of debris. Lilah had been here, from what he could conceive that either meant she was involved in whatever had transpired, or she was a victim like Wesley. Angel smiled, he was pretty certain he knew where to find Wesley, Wolfram and Hart.
Well there it is at 6049.