Ironic

Part Two

Disclaimer: See the first chapter.

Posted: October 10, 2004

Author's Notes: Qithin this chapter is my impression of a New York accent. I am sorry if I offend anyone. I am a New Englander, but I've never been to New York City, just what I've heard on TV. I'm sorry.

Reader Responses:

Crossedoff: I'm glad you find it interesting, I love writing it! It just gets more interesting from here on out....

Whitewolf: thanks for your review.

Out-Of-Reality: You're already hooked? There was like nothing to hook you in with that chapter! This should be the hooker chapter...except not in a dirty, prostitute way....What did you find confusing, maybe I could clear it up?

"Where you headed?"

"I'm trying to get to LA to visit my dad. He's ," she lied.

He nodded her into the cab of his truck; "I can take you as far as the station itself."

"Thank you sir." She knew that if he tried anything, she could defend herself. She just hoped she didn't have to.

"Hi, I'm uh...looking for Angel Investigations. Do you know where that is?" she asked the police officer at the desk.

He gave her directions, and she thanked him before setting off towards the old hotel.

"Um, hello?" she called, peeking into the hotel a few hours later.

"Welcome to Angel Investigations, we help the hopeless. How may I help you tonight?" A brunette poked her head out of the office.

"I'm actually looking for Angel," she told the woman, "is he here?"

"No, I'm sorry. I'm Cordelia, is there anything I could help you with?"

"Do you know where he is? I really need to get in touch with him."

"New York, last I knew. Why do you need to talk to him so badly?"

"I-It's kinda personal."

"Well, fine," she huffed.

"Cordy," she took a step forward, "I'm sorry, but it's between him a-and I."

"Do you know me?" she asked, shocked by the familiarity this girl showed.

"I'm Jessi. Jessi Gi-Just Jessica."

"Well, just Jessica, if you are so desperate to see the Brooding One, then...I could probably loan you the money. I don't generally do favors for strangers, besides trying to save them and all, but you seem to be a sweet kid, and you remind me of someone...Anyway, my friend won this million dollar prize for discovering some molecular equation or something like that, and she have me a share of the money. Generally, a girl can't have too many shoes, or clothes, but I could wear a new pair of shoes every day for about a year..."

"Thank you," she looked at the woman with respect.

"You must be tired. How about I get a room ready, and you stay the night? This old hotel gets real lonely, now that everyone but me has given up the cause."

"How do you manage?" she asked, following the woman up the stairs.

"Oh, it's a little thing known as guilt. I'm a guilt tripper."

The next day Cordelia drove her to the airport, and waited for her flight to board.

"Cordelia...thank you for everything. Someday, I hope I can explain everything, but right now I'm so confused. And you're right, you do know me, sort of. I didn't mean to deceive you, I barely know myself these days....I'm Jessi Giles, from Sunnydale."

"Jessi Giles? Little Jessica? Oh my God, it's been literally ages. Does Giles know where you're going? Does he know who you're looking for? Why didn't he help you? He is like, your uncle, or something, right?"

"Uncle? I always knew him as Dad, but now..." she shook her head, "Everything is all scrambled, and it doesn't make sense."

"Well, I don't know how Angel can help you with that, but I hope you find whatever you're looking for."

"Me too," she smiled at the older woman, the woman who had once known her mother, "Me too."

Soon her flight was called, and she hugged Cordelia goodbye. She was a bit nervous about the flight, it being only her second. The first time she had flown was to see her grandparents when her grandfather had been dying. But then, he wasn't her real grandfather, was he?

It didn't make the memory hurt any less.

The flight was long, and boring, almost as boring as her first flight, and she was nervous as hell. What would she find in New York? Who would she find?

Dear Diary,

Here I am on a plane bound for New York City. I don't even know if he's still there, but it's my best shot. Cordy was really noncommittal. But at least she let me borrow some money, and I have a round trip ticket back. It's for a month from now, hopefully it will be enough time to find him.

But when I do find him, what am I going to tell him? Should I walk right up to him, and say, 'hi, you don't know me, but I'm your daughter.' I bet that would go over real well.

And how will I even know it's him? I've only read descriptions of him. What exactly is an Angelic Face, anyway? I think I remember what his tattoo looks like, but I can't go around the city asking all male vampires to take off their shirts!

All of a sudden, this seems like a bad idea. But how else am I going to find out who I am? I'm not a Giles, I'm...a vampire's daughter...

All this thinking is exhausting, and I don't know when I'll be able to sleep next.

She slept through the rest of the flight, and a stewardess had to wake her up just before landing. She murmured a thank you as she grabbed her things and left the cabin. She managed to hail a taxi, having no luggage to pick up but her bag, a feat to get through security, and asked to be taken to Central Park, it being the only place in the city she knew. With the time change, it was just getting dark, though once the bright lights of businesses and so forth turned on, it wasn't nearly as dark as it was at home.

"Uh, Miss? I don't want to but into your business, but the park isn't a safe place after dark, especially for women, if you catch my drift..." the driver said once they reached the park.

"Thank you for your concern," she paid the fare, with an extra dollar or two, before grabbing her bag and stepping into the park. Once she was far enough from the road, and she heard the cab drive off behind her, she opened her bag and pulled out a knife with an intricate handle and matching blade, tucking it into her sock. She grabbed a stake and tucked it into her back pocket.

It wasn't until she was on her own, truly on her own, was she hit with the severity of her situation. She was alone, in New York City, one of the largest cities in the country, looking for one man in billions. He wasn't' even strictly a man. He was a demon. A filthy, dirty thing. How was she going to find him, if this city never slept?

Well, first things first, she thought, was to find a demon hangout. Maybe even get a job, or a place to stay, before trying to find him. Maybe beat up a couple of demons, he was the Scourge of Europe, after all; someone should be able to point him out.

She crossed the street, out of the park, and started walking. Eventually, she knew she was getting closer to a place that could help her. She saw a tiny, dingy, decrepit sign hanging above a flight of stairs at the end of an alley. The sign read simply Joey's, and she headed downwards cautiously. The demonness of the clientele hit her almost immediately, and almost overpowered her. She stumbled down the last steps, and through a beaded curtain. A few demons looked up as she stumbled in, but most went on drinking or gambling.

"What can I do ya foa?" the man behind the bar asked as she sat down, placing a glass before her.

"I don't drink. I'm actually looking for some information."

"Uh-huh. I don't serve no info. My cousin down in Sunnyhell got in a whole mess 'a trouble that way, gettin' beat by slayer and demon alike. Lucky for him, that bird died some time ago."

She grabbed his shirtfront, almost dragging him over the counter, showing strength she didn't possess, "Don't you ever say anything about her, or you will regret it. Do I make myself clear?"

"Y-Yeah! Perfectly!" She let go, and he straightened out his shirt.

"Now, you're going to tell me exactly what I need to know, or you will have one very unsatisfied customer." He nodded vigorously, "I'm looking for a vampire. Used to go by Angelus. Have you seen him?"

"Seen him? Sure I've seen him! He's right down-" she looked down to the very end, where the bar was in shadows, "gone," he muttered in disbelief. "He was here, I'm tellin' ya! I swear!"

"Don't swear," she condescended, "it's not polite." She left the bar without looking back.

A new face stumbled into the bar as he downed his eighth or tenth shot. Suddenly, he was surrounded by Her. He looked up at the blonde, sizing her up, wondering why she would be in a dive like this. She was about 5'5", with dirty blonde hair and deep brown eyes. She was pretty, but not his slayer.

The bartender poured him another shot, before going to tend to his new customer. That's when he slipped out, downing his shot, as quiet as the shadow he was.