Chapter Eight
City of Los Angeles: 2005
Cordelia Chase had worked for Angel Investigations for just over five years, and had been involved with her boss for almost two. She loved what she did, liked helping people, but there were some things about her job she wasn't terribly crazy about. Like going to a small wiccan shop at 8:00 at night to pick up an assortment of rare herbs needed for a spell to kill a homicidal demon. Yet here she was, standing in Merlin's Magikal Mart, waiting for the store's owner to locate all of the plants she had requested.
The bell on the door rang, causing the owner of the establishment to glance up, and see one of her regular customers entering the shop. Dana smiled over at the young woman and put another packet of dried herbs into the basket she was filling for the tall brunette. "Good evening Ash, what can I get for you today?"
"Hey Dana. I just needed a couple candles and some oils."
"All right dear, let me know if you need anything else."
The seer felt a strange sense of deja vu as she listened to the shop keeper speak with the new arrival. There was something oddly familiar about the voice. As the other customer approached the rack of aromatherapy candles across the store from her, the former cheerleader examined the girl Dana had called Ash from the corner of her eye.
The first thing the secretary noticed was the black motorcycle helmet in the woman's left hand. The second, was her clothes. She wore a pair of black boot-cut leather pants and heeled black boots. A tight black muscle tank exposed a thin strip of pale flesh between the bottom of the top and the low ridding pants. Despite the warm night, the woman had on a thigh length fitted black leather jacket. The waist length hair hung over the leather-clad shoulder so Cordelia was unable to see her face. The hair was a dark red color that made the secretary think of a shy hacker she once knew in high school. That thought brought a twinge of sadness, as she remembered the witch's death and she turned her attention back to the woman next to her.
The crimson-colored tresses were braided into hundreds of thin plates with a thin black ribbon woven into each braid. As the young woman turned slightly, the brunette saw a necklace resting against the black tank; it was a silver claw grasping a small crystal. There was also a thick black leather dog collar around her neck that was covered with sharp looking silver spikes. If it wasn't for the steady rise and fall of the redhead's chest, the seer would have thought she might've been a vampire.
Chocolate orbs followed Ash to the counter where the girl paid for her items. "Oh, I wanted to tell you, the book you ordered last week should be in the day after tomorrow."
"Thanks Dana, Mac and I will be by for it after we close the shop if that's all right."
"Of course dear. I'll see you then. Blessed Be."
"G'night, Goddess bless."
As the redhead and owner exchanged good byes, the girl turned to wave at the older woman and Cordelia got a clear view of her face. The seer gasped, the makeup was dark and heavy, the expression hard and set, the emerald eyes completely lacking in their former bright optimistic innocence, but the face was still recognizable.
Absently taking and paying for the herbs, the brunette headed out into the warm evening and towards the large hotel that held the headquarters for Angel Investigations, her thoughts repeating themselves over and over again. Willow Rosenberg was alive.
End Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
The two vampires entered the antique store, looking over the different items. Sire and childe both stopped short as an odd feeling swept over them. Spike glanced at the brunette next him, and could tell by the expression on his companion's face that he felt it as well. The last time he had experienced that particular feeling was when he had first seen the strange dark-haired man with Willow over five years before. He had never mentioned the occurrence to his sire when he had moved down to LA, having been too wrapped up in his grief to think much about anything other than the hacker's death.
He had come to stay with the elder vampire to escape the painful memories in Sunnydale, subconsciously seeking the comfort of the only father he had ever known. The blonde had received the solace he was looking for and had stayed in the large city and helped the small group at the detective agency. The girl's death, and the sudden realization of his feelings for her had left a wound that was still healing.
Hearing the store owner's approach, Spike shook off his melancholy thoughts and followed his sire to the counter. He watched Angel speak to the other brunette and waited for the two men to finish so he could go back to the hotel and beat the crap out of the punching bag. The proprietor brought out the axe Wesley had dropped off to be repaired several days before. Thanking the man, Angel and Spike left the store and went back to the Hyperion.
Duncan watched the two men leave the shop. He knew they weren't immortals, instead deducing that they must have been vampires to have given him the odd tingling sensation he had felt when they entered the shop. He had never encountered vampires that were as seemingly harmless as those two had been and he wondered how they had come to be that way. He was pulled from his thoughts as he felt his small friend enter the back of the store and noticed that she was holding a bag from her favorite wiccan store.
When Methos, or Adam as he went by now, had told him she was a witch he had been quite skeptical. He had known a couple witches in his long lifetime but the small girl didn't look anything like them. Any doubts, however, were thrown out the window when he had watched her light a cigarette from a small flame that had appeared on the tip of her index finger, only to disappear when she had finished. Then of course there were the levitations, illusions, and teleportations she performed semi regularly.
As he always did, Duncan felt a pang of sorrow as he looked into her eyes. She had seen so much, been through so much, in her young lifetime. She was a strong one though, stronger than he had imagined. What really got to him, however, was how jaded and bitter she had become, especially considering how innocent she'd been just five years before, despite all she had experienced in her hometown. Immortality had scarred her, though. He assumed it had a lot to do the Game; the rules had been hard for her to accept.
But it was more than that, he knew. She never spoke of her life before her first death, but from what Methos had told him, she had left behind some very close friends. Duncan never questioned her about her past but he had always been curious about the people that had meant so much to the girl. The Scotsman wasn't even very good friends with her himself, but he hoped that would change someday.
She never let anyone close, except Methos. Then again, Methos was the one who had found her – well he hadn't exactly found her so much as been drawn to her, something about a magical connection having formed when he'd seen her that had led him to approaching her online and forming a friendship with her. Anyway, Methos had trained her, and was the one who had helped her through the transition into her life as an immortal.
"Hey Mac, you in there?"
He pulled himself from his reverie, and shot the young woman a smile. "Sorry Ash. Were you saying something?"
"Yeah. Dana's gonna get that book in the day after tomorrow. I told her we'd be there to get it after we close up."
"Ok."
"So, what are we havin' for dinner tonight?" Closing the shop for the night, the two immortals headed to their favorite cafe to catch a quick meal before their evening sword practice.
End Chapter Nine
