Part 6
The next morning Willow managed to get the autopsy reports, but even with them, two days of continual research had brought no more leads as to what had killed the three girls. They were however, more sure than ever that it was the work of something demonic.
The pictures Willow had downloaded were horrific; despite all the horrors he had witnessed, Angel still found himself tempering the urge to vomit at the site of them. The girls had been found naked, their bodies almost torn in two by a ragged split that ran from heart to naval. The skin on their faces was badly burned around the their mouths. The reports had described it as though someone had poured burning petrol down their throats, the flames destroying all of the flesh inside their mouths, noses and down to their stomachs; that is if they had any stomachs left. All of their organs from the neck down were gone. Had that been all, it could easily have been the work of a very disturbed human being, but it wasn't all. The first real clue was the victim's skin. It was solid, almost as if it had been frozen but it wasn't cold. The description had read 'as liken to a fibre glass shell' an imagery that had been disturbing for all, but had upset both Angel and Gunn greatly. The other clue had been the wound on the victim's torso's; on close inspection it turned out not be a knife would or any other kind of entry wound as commonsense would dictate, but an exit would, like something had forced its way out of the bodies after they'd died.
Despite all this detail they hadn't enough to narrow down the search. So they were still looking, cross referencing and compiling everything they could, in the hope that eventually something would match, before it was too late for any more young girls.
Angel shifted uncomfortably on the couch. Although he wasn't very mobile for the time being, being sat in one place for long periods of time wasn't at all comfortable. He felt better everyday, he was pretty sure that without the meds he would be bouncing with energy, although without the meds he knew he would probably pass out from the pain; even with them, he ached a lot. As uncomfortable as he was he couldn't bring himself to stop researching, more than once he'd leapt from the couch to grab another book, so he could compare what he'd read. His own collection he was pretty familiar with, but Wesley's collection, although similar in size, was mostly new territory, it would take some time for him to familiarise himself with their content.
Like a bolt from the blue it hit, he wanted to do this; he could quite easily see himself doing this. It wasn't a profession, true enough, he would still have to find a way to pay the bills and be self sufficient, he couldn't rely on the money from Wolfram and Hart and his soulless days forever, the mere thought of it gave him the heebies. But he wanted to be useful, he couldn't fight, he didn't need some battle where he got his ass handed to him to know that, he'd already done that on the day he'd had reversed. 'Bad thoughts, not going there, not thinking about that.' Wesley had once chided his impatience, telling him the merits and feeling of accomplishment that came form the research side of their work, could he do that? Could he sit back and not get his hands dirty as his friends went out and fought? No probably not, Wesley certainly hadn't, but he'd played to his strengths.
Despite what some people said about him, Angel knew he was far from stupid; impulsive maybe, rash, quite often and prone to fits of rage and temper, definitely, but stupid? No, far from it. It was one of the things his father had berated him for so long ago, his father never liked to be out witted, so he belittled him for his love of books and foreign languages. Calling such pursuits womanish, even hinted he suspected his son of being a homosexual, because of his desire to draw and read poetry. So he'd learned to hide his more academic loves and had pushed himself to be a real man, or his father's interpretation of what a real man was. Sadly he'd gone to the extreme, hence the womanising and drunkenness. From the age of 17 onwards he hadn't really looked at a book, or even drawn that much, funny how he had to loose his soul to become interested in more soulful pursuits.
And many modern scientific concepts baffled him, but he rightly attributed that to living in isolation while the world around him moved on. While the young people around him mocked him for his lack of understanding of technology and science, they failed to see that they had grown up with it. He had grown up in an age where a machine was a water wheel driven mill, where gravity was still a startlingly new concept, and although people knew the world was round, they still believed that god was the centre of the universe. Come the industrial revolution, technology and science had moved on at much the same pace it did now, perhaps a little slower but not much. He may have been a soulless rampaging demon at the time, but he'd kept up with the changing world. Had he been a completely clueless dolt, he would still cower in terror at the sight of a steam train. No his problem was isolation, every advance made between 1970 and 1996, and granted there were many, had passed him by. Venturing out into society after nearly thirty years of seclusion had been a shock to the system, was it any wonder he hadn't been able to adapt that fast?
All this internal reassurance of his own intelligence brought him back to his original thought. Was he more than muscle that could no longer fight? As a vampire he certainly had the brawn, but now what he needed was the brain. Maths, science and technology aside, he knew he had a pretty analytical mind, even if it was prone to flights of romantic fancy once in while. He also had 250 years worth of experience and demonic life knowledge. Was he really considering this, taking on the role akin to that of a watcher? Now that was an amusing thought, Angelus the scourge of Europe, eldest survivor of the house of Aurelius, now human and thinking about becoming a watcher. No, not a watcher, watchers were dirty words in old Summer's house. But a researcher, a guide and dispensary of knowledge. 'god make it sound like you want to be the latest edition of Encarta why don't you?'
The fact of the matter was that this was something he felt he could do. He didn't know what the others were planning, but he knew Faith and Robin were making plans to set up a permanent home in LA, he also knew that Faith was itching to return to the proper routines of slaying, having patrol routes and doing the job she was destined to do. So surely having someone stand in a watcher's capacity would be useful. And that was the heart of the matter; he'd been too much a part of this world for too long, he couldn't just forget it existed.
Angel sighed and tiredly rubbed his eyes. Looking down at his book and then at his watch he realised he'd spent the last hour or so thinking instead of reading. As important as what he had been thinking about was, these girls were more so. He would talk to Faith later, or perhaps wait until this was over, for now he had a demon to find.
By early afternoon the Scoobies were hungry and cranky. The lack of success was beginning to wear on the already frayed patience's of the group. Every one wanted to resolve this, and quickly, the threat of more deaths hanging heavy in the air. Angel, knowing he had to do his daily exercise, offered to walk to a nearby café and bring back lunch. None of the girls liked the idea of Angel venturing very far on his own, it was incredibly frustrating for someone who had spent the better part of over 100 years completely alone, but the girls had their reasons and they were good ones. Not two weeks after major heart surgery there was always the risk of him having difficulties and they felt better if he had someone with him. Buffy, eager to escape the tedium of research and also wanting a chance to talk to Angel, quickly agreed to go with him.
That was how it was that the pair found themselves walking at a leisurely pace, through the streets of one LA's better suburbs. They were shrouded in silence, but unlike the other times, the silence was comfortable. Angel cast the occasional glance Buffy's way, she seemed thoughtful.
"Whats up?"
"What?"
"You looked like you were having deep thoughts, so I wondered if you needed a friendly ear." Angel did a mental double take, it wasn't so long ago he could barely stand to be in the same room as the blonde, yet here he was offering a listening ear for the second time in a week.
"Dawn called."
Angel frowned, he'd often wondered about the younger Summers over the last month. Buffy hadn't mentioned her and neither had any of the others, which he found extremely odd. He hadn't raised the issue and to be honest there weren't many topics of conversation that would lead to any discussion of the teenage brunette. He assumed she was till living in London, but now thinking about it, he had a hard time believing that Buffy would leave her younger sister in the care of man who had betrayed her.
"Problems?"
"Oh Yeah..." Sighing, Buffy ran her hand over her face. "We had a huge fight back in July. She wanted to go to college in New York, I wanted her to go to college somewhere closer, like England closer... plus with her having residency she would get this financial help thing they have over there. There was no way I could afford for her to go to college in New York. So she said she would ask Dad for help..."
"And you didn't want her to?"
"YES! NO!... Dad hasn't been a part of our lives for so long, I didn't want her to track him down only to tell her he wouldn't pay... Plus, I didn't want her too far away."
"What happened?"
"She tracked him down, he agreed, and Dawn flew out to New York in August, we haven't spoken since."
"Until today?"
"She never gave me her new number but Willow had her email address. So when we decided to stay here after everything with Giles, I wrote to her."
"And she's only now got back to you"
Buffy nodded and they continued walking in silence. Angel didn't like that there was that much animosity between the sisters, he'd always been fond of Dawn. The thought that they hadn't spoken in nearly 4 months was disturbing. After a little while Angel spoke again.
"What did she say?"
Buffy let out a heavy sigh. "She wants to talk, she's still mad at me, but she wants to talk. I think with everything with Giles... and you. I think she wants to check up on everybody... you know Dawn."
Angel had to chuckle, his memories of Dawn were of a very sweet and caring young girl not even in her teens, but perpetually worried about other people. In that last year in Sunnydale where Buffy had told her family about her slayerness and his vampirisms, Dawn had been a poster child for curiosity, constantly asking questions. But she had also asked him why he was so sad all the time; that alone had tugged his heartstrings and made him protective of the tiny child.
"She can't come to LA for a while, but she's gonna keep in touch by email and the phone, so its progress." Buffy continued after a second.
"I'm sorry things are bad between you two."
Buffy turned and smiled, it was such an Angel thing to say.
"Thanks."
They continued in silence until they reached the café. After placing their orders and paying they started their leisurely walk back. Well for Buffy it was leisurely, but the café was further away than she remembered and Angel was struggling. They'd been out over an hour by now, twice as long as his daily recommended time. Deciding that she had to take his mind of his increasing fatigue until they reached the house, she searched for a neutral topic of conversation.
"So... You seemed deep in thought earlier, you know... when we were supposed to be researching but you were just staring into space... something on your mind?"
"I was thinking about the future."
"The future... In the 'gee heck wouldn't it be cool if we all had hover cars in 50 years' way or something closer to home?"
"Closer to home." Angel chuckled.
"Feel like sharing?" Buffy probed.
Angel didn't answer for a while. He wasn't sure he wanted to discuss it just yet. It was such a new idea and he wasn't sure Buffy wouldn't laugh at him for it. Thinking about it, he decided it was better that someone laugh sooner rather than later.
"I was thinking about what we do and what I can do... now that I'm..."
"Human?" Buffy cut in.
"Yeah"
"So... What do you want to do?"
"I'm not sure, but I... want to keep helping... I can't fight... but maybe I can..."
"Put that huge brain and all those years of being a watcher's worst nightmare to good use?" Off Angel's startled look she explained. "OK, so what you were going to do may have come up as a topic of conversation once or twice."
"Yet never with me?"
"We weren't exactly on the best terms and I think the others didn't want to insult you by implying that you couldn't fight any more."
"I can't"
"Angel... Xander, Robin, Gunn, they all still fight in their own way. So you don't have super strength, but that wasn't all you ever had to offer. And you know, all that training will count for something... but only when your well again, no getting it into your head you can go off and stake vampires on your own ok?"
"I already figured that one out on my own, thanks."
"Geeze when did you get sensible?"
Angel bit his tongue; he was deadly tempted to say things he knew he would regret. Like 'when a mohra demon handed me my very human ass', or 'when I lead all my friends to their deaths for nothing'. Instead he kept quiet.
Buffy floundered in the wake of Angel's silence, believing he had taken great offence at her off hand quip.
"Sorry that was uncalled for..."
"No... you're right, I haven't always been very sensible, and I've made bad choices... a lot of them. I just don't want the one I make now to be a mistake too. I couldn't bare it if I wound up being responsible for more deaths."
Now Buffy held her silence, it had been a running battle the last month between Angel and others over the issue of the fall of Wolfram and Hart. Gunn insisted that Angel's plan had been a good one, a spectacular one even, he also made the point of saying that they could have backed out at any time if they hadn't thought so. The fact was none of them went into the battle thinking they would survive yet two of them had, seemed to pass Angel by. Angel was the king of guilt, but no one could understand why he was so adamant that it was his fault they all died. They'd had to agree to disagree on the issue; otherwise they'd never talk about anything else.
"I think you'd be a great unofficial watcher type." Buffy said reassuringly after a moment, then she frowned, "That is, if it was what you were thinking about... I sorta assumed and..."
"Thank you."
Buffy smiled and looped her arm through his, "So does this mean your gonna start wearing tweed?"
"No!" Angel replied laughingly.
"Could you at least get glasses? Coz you know, nothing screams knowledge and Authority like constantly cleaning your glasses." Buffy suggested with mock seriousness.
"Buffy!!" Angel gasped around another snort of laughter, "You know, Wesley would be insulted, I don't think he ever wore tweed, and you know he looked great after getting contacts."
"Define great..."
"He had nice eyes."
"You know, that's worrying... You should not be noticing that your male friends have nice eyes."
"Don't tell me you never thought, hey willow has nice hair or..."
"No fair using logic!" Buffy pouted, causing Angel to laugh once again.
The pair continued back to the house exchanging easy banter, Buffy's arm still looped through Angel's. It had been an instinctual action but after she'd done it, she tensed for him to break free. Even though they had sort of agreed, on a kind of friendship, Angel kept himself very much to himself. He never made any physical contact, and always appeared to keep a safety distance. Buffy didn't think he knew he was doing it, but it clued her in to just how badly the events Giles had orchestrated had hurt him. How the events with the Immortal, had hurt him. Loosing his friends was also a big contributor to a lot of recent depressive brooding marathons, but he had no problem hugging Faith, or playfully clipping Gunn round the back of the head or just making physical contact in some small everyday way, with any of the others. But with her, there was safety distance, and carefully thought through words.
But that was changing; he'd made no move to pull away. She could partly credit it to the fact that he was leaning on her ever so slightly, the toll of the long walk beginning to show, but that he was willing to accept her help at all, was a step in the right direction.