I don't own BTVS or AtS, mainly because I don't deserve them. I don't own any of the characters, mainly because I wouldn't share them. So, I am an undeserving and selfish child... *sigh* Joss Whedon is the man behind the mystery and I am just another pretend sleuth working my way through the case files. Anywat I guess this should be the time that I get...
On with the show.
::Stuff and Nonsense- Life's an Elevator::
The boy had been in and out of stores, all day. He had only taken one or two items, as far as the reports went, but the cops were on the lookout. Shop clerks were wary of keeping their doors open. Apparently, this particular day was going to be hell and they wanted to be at home, in bed and asleep, if that were the case. Money kept them open, though. Money kept them in LA. Who would live in LA otherwise, especially with all the weird things that happened each and every Wednesday?
Wednesday; a day where all good teenagers were at school, learning and joking around with their friends. A day where they contemplated what they would do that night, at their weekly youth group get together. When had things changes? Somewhere in the sixties, when everyone realized the fifties had died, with it's blindingly insipid idealistic points of view. Yes, another lovely day in Los Angeles.
Newspaper reporters were being evaded, right and left, the six o'clock news thought a small crime spree by a local teen was nothing to worry over, and the cops were getting nowhere. The day dragged on and the boy had disappeared... until the murder, that is. A seventeen-year-old girl had been found dead, that afternoon, on Sunset Blvd., and it was assumed that the young man had something to do with it.
This little piece of information had changed the view point of Los Angeles News Channel 9. The boy's description stretched from Fresno to San Diego. Sandy hair reaching his neck, large blue eyes, and a cold looking smile. The boy was between the ages of 18 and 20 and should be considered dangerous, if not armed.
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Cordelia jumped out of the bathtub and grabbed a towel, wrapping it around her. She ran out of the bathroom and barreled into Doyle.
"Whoa, princess. Take it easy." Doyle held Cordelia's shoulders and then dropped his hands, in an embarrassed fashion. "Where's the fire?" He asked, while slipping his hands into his pockets and taking a step backward. "Not in the bathtub, I suppose." He muttered, while looking past the sodden woman, toward the bathroom that she left in such disarray.
Cordelia's eyes grew wide and she hissed. "Connor!"
Doyle bit his bottom lip and nodded. "I've been given the scoop on you and him, darlin' and I've decided that since I was dead at the time, I forgive you." Doyle nodded and sighed. "You don't think you could have picked someone a little older to work your wiles on, though?"
Cordelia's jaw dropped. She balled up her fist and punched Doyle in the shoulder, causing him to flinch. "Jackass! I was talking about him being on the news! They described him on the radio! Apparently, he's running amuck, downtown!"
Doyle quirked a brow. "Are you sure you heard it right, Cordy? I mean, I haven't had any unholy updates lately, on the kid." Doyle scratched the back of his head and shrugged. "I think if he was causing any real havoc, I would have been warned."
Cordelia scrunched up her nose in anger and huffed. "Maybe you aren't being updated, because you can't handle the havoc he is causing!"
Doyle's own anger flared at this comment. "Really?" He asked, snidely. "What's your excuse?"
"I gave birth to a Goddess!"
"Oh, and that makes you special, does it?!" Cordelia almost dropped her towel, as she fled from Doyle's sight. She slammed her bedroom door behind her, leaving the man in a stunned silence. "What just happened here?" Doyle asked himself, in a mutter.
"I dunno' what happened exactly, but it looks like you pissed off the bird."
Doyle turned to find Spike standing in the front doorway, and sighed. "Thanks for stating the obvious, Spike. I really needed you to put that into perspective for me." Doyle walked into the living room and took in Spike's appearance. He had changed clothes.
Spike grinned and shrugged, as he sauntered through the doorway. "Want some more obvious observations?"
Doyle shrugged and slumped down into the nearest chair. "Couldn't hurt."
"I wouldn't be so sure about that." Spike grinned and shook his head. "She's gonna' make your life hell, until you apologize and admit that you were wrong for what ever it is that you did, or didn't, do."
"Oh?" Doyle rolled his eyes and sighed. "And what would you know?"
"I know Cordelia." Spike grinned lasciviously and winked at the Irishman.
Doyle grunted in a noncommittal way and shrugged. "Where's Angel?"
Spike pointed his thumb at the door and sniffed. "He's bringing up the newest recruit. This one's no older than an Eagle Scout and twice as prepared."
"...couldn't tell you anymore than that." The bright-eyed boy walked in the doorway, just as Spike mentioned him. He and Angel were discussing something that made Angel's forehead droop. The boy turned his head and grinned toothily at Spike and then at Doyle. "Hello. I'm Tim."
Doyle looked the boy over and hissed. He looked as if he stepped out of a Seventeen magazine, with the fresh face and floppy blonde hair. He wore a pair of corduroys and a white t-shirt, topped off with a light gray cardigan. "Did you just step out of Mr. Roger's neighborhood?"
The boy quirked a brow and took in Doyle's appearance. "Did you just step out of a disco?"
Doyle looked down at his ensemble and winced. He had forgotten that he had borrowed a pair of slacks from Lorne. Who knew that the tamest color in the guy's wardrobe was electric blue? "Touché." Doyle muttered, as he let his head fall back.
Tim smirked and shook his head. "You should probably let it out, you know."
Doyle snapped his head up and snarled. "What would a boy know about it?"
"I know that if you don't let things out, bad things happen."
Doyle raised an eyebrow and sniffed. He wasn't sure if the boy meant him personally or if he was talking about the all-inclusive 'you'. All he knew was that the boy had a deeper understanding of the situation than anyone else in the room... but how did he know that? "Really? Is that so?"
Tim shrugged and sighed. "Or I'm full of shit. Either way." Tim yawned and covered his mouth with the back of his hand. "I'm sorry." He moaned through the yawn.
Angel smirked. "Tim was on the road for eight hours on a smelly bus."
Tim gulped and nodded. "I stayed up and watched a man clip his toe nails, for five hours." Tim bit his lip. "Apparently, it was a process for the man." Tim sighed. "Also, I was stuck next to the bathroom. That's why I stink."
Doyle nodded his understanding. "Why didn't you take the other three hours to sleep, on the bus ride?"
Tim cocked his head to the side and grinned. "I'm not sure you get exactly how smelly this bus was."
Doyle couldn't help smiling at this. The kid was charming. He would give him that much.
"Do you want a shower?" The men in the room turned and saw a sweetly smiling Cordelia, clothed in a pretty blue dress. "Feel welcome to use my shower. I just have to straighten up in the bathroom first. I left a mess."
Tim shrugged and smirked. "I need a shower, but I don't have any clothes."
Cordelia looked the boy up and down and sniffed. "Maybe you can wear some of Connor's clothes, if one of the boys don't mind running and getting them for you." Cordelia threw a smile over at Spike and Angel.
Spike shook his head and shrugged. "It's pretty bright outside, as of the moment. You sure he needs a shower that badly?"
Cordelia sniffed the air and grunted. "Your sense of smell is better than mine. Why isn't this killing you?" Cordelia colored up a nice shade of red when she caught the look on Tim's face. He seemed quite amused with her, if not slightly embarrassed. "I'm sorry."
Tim chuckled and shook his head. "No, no. It's all right. I can handle the abuse. Trust me. If this is the worst that you guys say about me, by the end of the week, I'll have to say I was lucky."
"Why do you say that?" Cordelia gave Tim an confused grin. "You planning on making our life miserable?"
Tim shrugged. "Not planning on it, but sometimes things are just written in the stars."
Spike grinned widely. "Tim's a spiritual guru and a psychic."
Doyle chuckled. "Aren't we all?"
Tim's perpetual smile fell from his face and he shot a scowl at Doyle. "No, we aren't. Some have psychic powers, as a curse." Tim glanced over at Cordelia and winked. "While others have it as a gift."
Doyle sneered at the boy and shook his head. "And what, pray tell, is your powers? A gift or a curse?"
Tim shrugged. "It's genetic. It's a trait passed on through our family, like blue eyes and blonde hair. I don't see it as a curse or a gift. It's just the way things are."
"Well, cancer and rheumatoid arthritis can be passed through family blood lines, can't they?" Spike asked, in his sweetest tone.
Tim shrugged. "I suppose, but I prefer not to look at this as an illness. If I look at it that way, then there is no telling how my little sister would look at it."
"You have a little sister?" Cordelia grinned. "How little?"
"Well, she's kind of young for her age." Tim scratched the back of his head and shrugged. "She's ten, but she seems to be about six. She's about ye high and has a lisp." Tim put his hand at the top of his hip and smirked. "Most people confuse her for my daughter. Kelsey is a wonderful child."
Cordelia sighed. "I always wanted a sister. Someone to share secrets and makeup tips with."
"And boyfriends and your parents' attention." Doyle gave Cordelia a smug look.
"I would have risen above it." Cordelia snarled back at the Irishman.
"Oh, I'm certain that you would have risen about as readily as you did, when that little tart of Angel's gave you the eye." Doyle did his best to not spare Angel a glance. He could feel the older demon glaring already. "When he did that you should have spanked him, not screwed him."
Spike burst out laughing. "I'm sure she did a little bit o' both."
Angel jabbed Spike in the side and they exchanged disparaging glares.
"I. Was. Possessed by. A higher. Power!" Cordelia let out a scream, before stomping toward the bathroom and turning to point at Tim. "Follow me!" She turned back toward the bathroom and stomped inside.
Tim looked at the other guys in the room and shrugged. "The lady beckons. I must obey." Tim stuck his hands in his back pockets and sauntered after the beautiful, yet angry woman.
Angel shot another look at Doyle and grunted.
Doyle shrugged. "If I didn't say it, who would?"
Angel growled. "Well, certainly not me. I'm tired of all of this tension between my family members."
Spike shrugged a shoulder at the half demon. "I thought the last conversation between us and Connor went quite well." Spike mimed a few punches and chuckled low in his throat.
Angel turned a look at his childe and grunted. "Why are you being so happy?"
Spike chuckled and shrugged. "What? You think that I should take after you, daddy dearest?"
Angel grunted and shuddered. "Don't call me that." He muttered.
Spike chuckled for a third time. "This whole conversation was bollucks, you know." Spike grinned at the Irishman. "You really shouldn't call out that 'lil' tart of Angel's'. He'd kick your ass, if he heard you talk like that."
"Yeah. He would." The men in the room turned at the voice that came from the door. Connor was leaning in the doorway, arms crossed across his chest, and a wicked smile etched across his face.
"Michael." The men turned toward the hall and frowned, almost in unison. Tim was standing in the archway, gripping a towel at his waist. "I should have known. 'Monsters are everywhere.' It's what she said."
Connor smirked and nodded, while straightening his spine. "How is Kelsey doing, Timothy? Last time I saw her she was so very sick."
Tim's face drained of color and he shook his head. "She's safe. That's all that matters."
"Safe, yes, but at what costs, Timmy?"
"What the hell is going on here?" Angel finally took a step forward. He had been itching to spank his child and hug him, ever since he stepped into the room. Now, he just didn't know.
Tim tightened up his grip on his towel and sighed. "Angel meet Michael. He's inhabiting your son's body."
Angel glared at the newcomer and growled.
Michael smirked, cordially. "Hello."
TBC
-So, It's been a long, long while. I have been busy working and tying up loose ends in my schooling. I'm now ready to start college! Whoo hoo! Yay for me! Anyway, I'm sorry for the delay in this. I hope to get another chapter out soon, but I won't promise it will be within the next few days. I will promise however, that if I don't post within the next few weeks, I will ram my face through a plate glass window. *giggle* Love you guys. Please review.-
--The subtitle was Life's an Elevator by T-Rex, because it's true and I felt like it.--
On with the show.
::Stuff and Nonsense- Life's an Elevator::
The boy had been in and out of stores, all day. He had only taken one or two items, as far as the reports went, but the cops were on the lookout. Shop clerks were wary of keeping their doors open. Apparently, this particular day was going to be hell and they wanted to be at home, in bed and asleep, if that were the case. Money kept them open, though. Money kept them in LA. Who would live in LA otherwise, especially with all the weird things that happened each and every Wednesday?
Wednesday; a day where all good teenagers were at school, learning and joking around with their friends. A day where they contemplated what they would do that night, at their weekly youth group get together. When had things changes? Somewhere in the sixties, when everyone realized the fifties had died, with it's blindingly insipid idealistic points of view. Yes, another lovely day in Los Angeles.
Newspaper reporters were being evaded, right and left, the six o'clock news thought a small crime spree by a local teen was nothing to worry over, and the cops were getting nowhere. The day dragged on and the boy had disappeared... until the murder, that is. A seventeen-year-old girl had been found dead, that afternoon, on Sunset Blvd., and it was assumed that the young man had something to do with it.
This little piece of information had changed the view point of Los Angeles News Channel 9. The boy's description stretched from Fresno to San Diego. Sandy hair reaching his neck, large blue eyes, and a cold looking smile. The boy was between the ages of 18 and 20 and should be considered dangerous, if not armed.
~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~
Cordelia jumped out of the bathtub and grabbed a towel, wrapping it around her. She ran out of the bathroom and barreled into Doyle.
"Whoa, princess. Take it easy." Doyle held Cordelia's shoulders and then dropped his hands, in an embarrassed fashion. "Where's the fire?" He asked, while slipping his hands into his pockets and taking a step backward. "Not in the bathtub, I suppose." He muttered, while looking past the sodden woman, toward the bathroom that she left in such disarray.
Cordelia's eyes grew wide and she hissed. "Connor!"
Doyle bit his bottom lip and nodded. "I've been given the scoop on you and him, darlin' and I've decided that since I was dead at the time, I forgive you." Doyle nodded and sighed. "You don't think you could have picked someone a little older to work your wiles on, though?"
Cordelia's jaw dropped. She balled up her fist and punched Doyle in the shoulder, causing him to flinch. "Jackass! I was talking about him being on the news! They described him on the radio! Apparently, he's running amuck, downtown!"
Doyle quirked a brow. "Are you sure you heard it right, Cordy? I mean, I haven't had any unholy updates lately, on the kid." Doyle scratched the back of his head and shrugged. "I think if he was causing any real havoc, I would have been warned."
Cordelia scrunched up her nose in anger and huffed. "Maybe you aren't being updated, because you can't handle the havoc he is causing!"
Doyle's own anger flared at this comment. "Really?" He asked, snidely. "What's your excuse?"
"I gave birth to a Goddess!"
"Oh, and that makes you special, does it?!" Cordelia almost dropped her towel, as she fled from Doyle's sight. She slammed her bedroom door behind her, leaving the man in a stunned silence. "What just happened here?" Doyle asked himself, in a mutter.
"I dunno' what happened exactly, but it looks like you pissed off the bird."
Doyle turned to find Spike standing in the front doorway, and sighed. "Thanks for stating the obvious, Spike. I really needed you to put that into perspective for me." Doyle walked into the living room and took in Spike's appearance. He had changed clothes.
Spike grinned and shrugged, as he sauntered through the doorway. "Want some more obvious observations?"
Doyle shrugged and slumped down into the nearest chair. "Couldn't hurt."
"I wouldn't be so sure about that." Spike grinned and shook his head. "She's gonna' make your life hell, until you apologize and admit that you were wrong for what ever it is that you did, or didn't, do."
"Oh?" Doyle rolled his eyes and sighed. "And what would you know?"
"I know Cordelia." Spike grinned lasciviously and winked at the Irishman.
Doyle grunted in a noncommittal way and shrugged. "Where's Angel?"
Spike pointed his thumb at the door and sniffed. "He's bringing up the newest recruit. This one's no older than an Eagle Scout and twice as prepared."
"...couldn't tell you anymore than that." The bright-eyed boy walked in the doorway, just as Spike mentioned him. He and Angel were discussing something that made Angel's forehead droop. The boy turned his head and grinned toothily at Spike and then at Doyle. "Hello. I'm Tim."
Doyle looked the boy over and hissed. He looked as if he stepped out of a Seventeen magazine, with the fresh face and floppy blonde hair. He wore a pair of corduroys and a white t-shirt, topped off with a light gray cardigan. "Did you just step out of Mr. Roger's neighborhood?"
The boy quirked a brow and took in Doyle's appearance. "Did you just step out of a disco?"
Doyle looked down at his ensemble and winced. He had forgotten that he had borrowed a pair of slacks from Lorne. Who knew that the tamest color in the guy's wardrobe was electric blue? "Touché." Doyle muttered, as he let his head fall back.
Tim smirked and shook his head. "You should probably let it out, you know."
Doyle snapped his head up and snarled. "What would a boy know about it?"
"I know that if you don't let things out, bad things happen."
Doyle raised an eyebrow and sniffed. He wasn't sure if the boy meant him personally or if he was talking about the all-inclusive 'you'. All he knew was that the boy had a deeper understanding of the situation than anyone else in the room... but how did he know that? "Really? Is that so?"
Tim shrugged and sighed. "Or I'm full of shit. Either way." Tim yawned and covered his mouth with the back of his hand. "I'm sorry." He moaned through the yawn.
Angel smirked. "Tim was on the road for eight hours on a smelly bus."
Tim gulped and nodded. "I stayed up and watched a man clip his toe nails, for five hours." Tim bit his lip. "Apparently, it was a process for the man." Tim sighed. "Also, I was stuck next to the bathroom. That's why I stink."
Doyle nodded his understanding. "Why didn't you take the other three hours to sleep, on the bus ride?"
Tim cocked his head to the side and grinned. "I'm not sure you get exactly how smelly this bus was."
Doyle couldn't help smiling at this. The kid was charming. He would give him that much.
"Do you want a shower?" The men in the room turned and saw a sweetly smiling Cordelia, clothed in a pretty blue dress. "Feel welcome to use my shower. I just have to straighten up in the bathroom first. I left a mess."
Tim shrugged and smirked. "I need a shower, but I don't have any clothes."
Cordelia looked the boy up and down and sniffed. "Maybe you can wear some of Connor's clothes, if one of the boys don't mind running and getting them for you." Cordelia threw a smile over at Spike and Angel.
Spike shook his head and shrugged. "It's pretty bright outside, as of the moment. You sure he needs a shower that badly?"
Cordelia sniffed the air and grunted. "Your sense of smell is better than mine. Why isn't this killing you?" Cordelia colored up a nice shade of red when she caught the look on Tim's face. He seemed quite amused with her, if not slightly embarrassed. "I'm sorry."
Tim chuckled and shook his head. "No, no. It's all right. I can handle the abuse. Trust me. If this is the worst that you guys say about me, by the end of the week, I'll have to say I was lucky."
"Why do you say that?" Cordelia gave Tim an confused grin. "You planning on making our life miserable?"
Tim shrugged. "Not planning on it, but sometimes things are just written in the stars."
Spike grinned widely. "Tim's a spiritual guru and a psychic."
Doyle chuckled. "Aren't we all?"
Tim's perpetual smile fell from his face and he shot a scowl at Doyle. "No, we aren't. Some have psychic powers, as a curse." Tim glanced over at Cordelia and winked. "While others have it as a gift."
Doyle sneered at the boy and shook his head. "And what, pray tell, is your powers? A gift or a curse?"
Tim shrugged. "It's genetic. It's a trait passed on through our family, like blue eyes and blonde hair. I don't see it as a curse or a gift. It's just the way things are."
"Well, cancer and rheumatoid arthritis can be passed through family blood lines, can't they?" Spike asked, in his sweetest tone.
Tim shrugged. "I suppose, but I prefer not to look at this as an illness. If I look at it that way, then there is no telling how my little sister would look at it."
"You have a little sister?" Cordelia grinned. "How little?"
"Well, she's kind of young for her age." Tim scratched the back of his head and shrugged. "She's ten, but she seems to be about six. She's about ye high and has a lisp." Tim put his hand at the top of his hip and smirked. "Most people confuse her for my daughter. Kelsey is a wonderful child."
Cordelia sighed. "I always wanted a sister. Someone to share secrets and makeup tips with."
"And boyfriends and your parents' attention." Doyle gave Cordelia a smug look.
"I would have risen above it." Cordelia snarled back at the Irishman.
"Oh, I'm certain that you would have risen about as readily as you did, when that little tart of Angel's gave you the eye." Doyle did his best to not spare Angel a glance. He could feel the older demon glaring already. "When he did that you should have spanked him, not screwed him."
Spike burst out laughing. "I'm sure she did a little bit o' both."
Angel jabbed Spike in the side and they exchanged disparaging glares.
"I. Was. Possessed by. A higher. Power!" Cordelia let out a scream, before stomping toward the bathroom and turning to point at Tim. "Follow me!" She turned back toward the bathroom and stomped inside.
Tim looked at the other guys in the room and shrugged. "The lady beckons. I must obey." Tim stuck his hands in his back pockets and sauntered after the beautiful, yet angry woman.
Angel shot another look at Doyle and grunted.
Doyle shrugged. "If I didn't say it, who would?"
Angel growled. "Well, certainly not me. I'm tired of all of this tension between my family members."
Spike shrugged a shoulder at the half demon. "I thought the last conversation between us and Connor went quite well." Spike mimed a few punches and chuckled low in his throat.
Angel turned a look at his childe and grunted. "Why are you being so happy?"
Spike chuckled and shrugged. "What? You think that I should take after you, daddy dearest?"
Angel grunted and shuddered. "Don't call me that." He muttered.
Spike chuckled for a third time. "This whole conversation was bollucks, you know." Spike grinned at the Irishman. "You really shouldn't call out that 'lil' tart of Angel's'. He'd kick your ass, if he heard you talk like that."
"Yeah. He would." The men in the room turned at the voice that came from the door. Connor was leaning in the doorway, arms crossed across his chest, and a wicked smile etched across his face.
"Michael." The men turned toward the hall and frowned, almost in unison. Tim was standing in the archway, gripping a towel at his waist. "I should have known. 'Monsters are everywhere.' It's what she said."
Connor smirked and nodded, while straightening his spine. "How is Kelsey doing, Timothy? Last time I saw her she was so very sick."
Tim's face drained of color and he shook his head. "She's safe. That's all that matters."
"Safe, yes, but at what costs, Timmy?"
"What the hell is going on here?" Angel finally took a step forward. He had been itching to spank his child and hug him, ever since he stepped into the room. Now, he just didn't know.
Tim tightened up his grip on his towel and sighed. "Angel meet Michael. He's inhabiting your son's body."
Angel glared at the newcomer and growled.
Michael smirked, cordially. "Hello."
TBC
-So, It's been a long, long while. I have been busy working and tying up loose ends in my schooling. I'm now ready to start college! Whoo hoo! Yay for me! Anyway, I'm sorry for the delay in this. I hope to get another chapter out soon, but I won't promise it will be within the next few days. I will promise however, that if I don't post within the next few weeks, I will ram my face through a plate glass window. *giggle* Love you guys. Please review.-
--The subtitle was Life's an Elevator by T-Rex, because it's true and I felt like it.--