His Redemption

Chapter III - Hurt

Woot, reviewers rock! Hope you like, and sorry for the wait, softball just started up, plus New York and eww, just life in general. Enjoy!

It was past noon when John began to make his way back to his apartment. He couldn't help but let a giddy smile rise to his lips and only his endearing will kept him from grinning like the idiot he really was. The L.A. sun rose high in the sky, beating down on him, making sweat bead on his brow. His long trench coat, shirt and pants didn't help much either.

The exorcist wasn't looking forward to returning to his apartment, thinking it empty and sweltering like the outdoors. Instead, he was incorrect on both counts; Sally was dancing around the kitchen, if you could call it that, dusting as she moved, and it was delightfully cool. An angel's touch, apparently.

"You're still here?" he groaned, rounding on the fridge as he shut the door. Sally smirked as she watched him peer, eyes narrowed, into the grimy refrigerator. Her smirk inflated when he groaned again. "What the hell did you do to my fridge?"

Sally looked down, biting her lip to keep from laughing. "Nothing," she chirped, trying to look busy cleaning the counter.

"Then where's my vodka? Or my beer? And what happened to the sauerkraut?" His voice grew as he listed each item and he slammed the fridge door angrily, making the appliance shudder.

She looked up sharply, hearing the anger tinge his voice. "Unless you've forgotten, a month ago you were dying. I don't intend to let you drink yourself into an early grave."

John grimaced, opening his mouth to respond, but Sally cut him off. "Not now, Johnny. You've got Angela to think about."

"Don't remind me," he muttered, sitting down in a heap at the table. John leaned forward, pressing his forehead against the cool surface of the table, letting it calm him.

"Here," Sally said softly, filling a surprisingly clean glass with water from the sink. She put it down next to him, but thought better of it, and raised the drink to her mouth, blowing softly. Frost spread like a spider web over the inside of the cup and chips of ice began to clink together. "Angelic perks."

John laughed and took the water gratefully, "Thanks, Sal."

"Anytime, Sparky."

He grinned, laughing to himself. Sally had her little quirks that always kept him on his toes, or, on rare occasion, smiling. Then his brow furrowed. "What about my sauerkraut?"

--

Angela glanced down at her watch, then over to the digital clock set in the dashboard of her Chevy anxiously. John had said six, and it was nearly seven. She didn't like to make anyone wait, let alone John. He had said it was important, and with John, it was only important if it was really important.

She knocked at the door, watching as the paint chips fell off the wood like a blizzard of moldy green. The lock clicked out of place and the door swung open. John smiled down at her, offering up that familiar, irresistible smirk, "Hey," he said softly, stepping aside so she could enter.

"Hi," Angela replied, tucking a strand of dark hair behind her ear shyly. They stood like that for a moment, frozen in the doorway of John's apartment, before Angela cleared her throat and stepped into the room, her arms crossed tightly in front of her. "So, what was it that-?"

The woman stopped short, spotting a figure sitting on the counter, legs swinging in a juvenile fashion. The person clasped a pink-tinged drink in a Starbucks cup in one hand, sucking at the beverage avidly through the spring green straw. John noticed Angela's sudden tensing and he put a warm hand on the small of her back. "Angie, this is Sally," he said slowly, watching her reaction.

"Hello," Angela said, her voice in it's characteristic low rasp of anxiety. She cleared her throat again, glancing warily at John. She wasn't stupid. This girl was young, pretty, and sitting in the middle of John's apartment while she was at work all day. "I'm Angela Dodson."

Sally only smiled brightly, trying to ease the tension. "I know all about you, Angela," she chuckled, and Angela immediately picked up on the rough British accent. She watched the other women's expression changed drastically and her face fell, "Don't worry, I'm not a demon or anything-."

"So she says," another voice laughed, and both John and Angela spun. Chas was standing behind them, grinning to himself. "John, Angela," he said, "Hey, Sally," he added, nodding over to the other angel.

John smiled wider than he had all day, but quickly suppressed it, giving Chas a quick but strong handshake. "Good to see you, kid," he said gruffly. Angela, on the other hand, forgot all about Sally for the moment and embraced the teen angel, smiling to him.

"I didn't know the angel thing happened so fast," she laughed, her eyes sparkling as she grinned.

Chas swelled with pride, puffing out his chest. "Well, it's different for us do-gooders, we get our wings quicker, while the regulars can take years." As he spoke, he stared (in good fun, of course) over at Sally. She only narrowed her eyes and made a face, sticking out her tongue at him.

Angela's attention was drawn back to the newcomer to their trio and she gazed at her. "So you're an angel?" she murmured, taking a step towards her.

Sally nodded, unfurling her wings for effect. "In the flesh," she said cheerfully, taking another sip of her drink.

But Angela wasn't finished. She stared at Sally for another moment, and the angel couldn't help but blush slightly. John and Chas exchanged looks and both shrugged. "You look familiar," Angela muttered. "I've seen you before."

It was John's turn to blush and he shifted uncomfortably. "It's probably nothing, you know-."

"Yeah," Sally jumped in, rubbing her arm, which had suddenly been covered in goosebumps, "I've just got one of those faces-." But Angela didn't stop.

"In the database. You're-," she paused and her eyes darkened, "You're one of the Arachnid murders. You're the last one." Sally's face suddenly paled and she slid off the counter top, her drink empty beside her. John scratched his head and Chas stared at his feet. None of them liked this subject.

Sally's eyes glazed and she looked away, "Yeah," she muttered. "But that was a long time ago, Angela. I try not to look back."

The L.A.P.D. detective was transfixed. The Arachnid was one of the few killers they never even had a suspect on; she had even written a paper on him at the Academy. And now, here was her chance to find out the truth, who the real Arachnid was. "Who was it?" she breathed, touching Sally on the shoulder, her eyes wide.

"Angie, I- I think that's enough," John said, taking her by the shoulders. "Sally doesn't-."

"Bobby Keno." Sally's voice was cold and sharp; so unlike her. Chas couldn't help but feel a twang of remorse for her. "He did it."

Angela's eyes were alight with a sleuthy fire now; she could be the one, the one to close the Arachnid case. "Bobby Keno?" she murmured, her brain buzzing. "The pimp?" Sally nodded, not facing Angela now. Both John and Chas knew where this was going.

"How would you get involved with him?"

At this, the angel smirked pointedly and laughed. "I was a prostitute, that's how." Angela immediately fell silent, shock stirring in her, and her jaw fell slightly agape. "Surprised, Detective?"

"Okay, I think we've had enough for one day," Chas sighed, stepping between the two women. John steered Angela away, pulling her by the shoulders, giving her a stern glance or two as she looked up at him questioningly.

Chas watched the other angel shake with the pain of the memories, her fingers running over her arms, remembering the scars they once bore. "After all these years-," she murmured.

He nodded in return. "It still hurts."