Chapter Eight

"Angel, what can you tell me about girlfriends?"

Angel dropped the tea kettle he was placing on the burner. It banged loudly on the metal grill and a few droplets of water sloshed out of the spout and onto the flames.

"Girlfriends?" Angel asked. Twelve years old and he's asking about girlfriends? Wasn't it too early for that? Angel had figured he'd have another year or two, at least.

"Mm-hm."

Angel rubbed the back of his head. "Uhh… Like what?"

William shrugged. "I don't know. I think I have one, but I'm not sure. I thought you could tell me."

Angel's mind spun at the oddness of the statement. He spoke out loud, trying to make sense of it. "You think you have a girlfriend, and you want me to tell you if you do…?"

"Yeah, well, you've probably had lots of girlfriends, right? So you know how to tell if a girl thinks you're her boyfriend or not. Yesterday Jamina said I was sweet for helping her with our history homework—but really, I was telling her the story you told about the demon you fought during the first French Revolution, but without the demon part, of course—and today she hugged me. And," Angel was doing his best to keep up, "last week she told me she liked my mahogany shoes."

"Mahogany shoes?"

"Well, they're not wood shoes, of course, but Angel, that's not the point."

"Oh." Angel rubbed the back of his head again. "Er. What's the point? Exactly?"

"Is she my girlfriend? Am I expected to do things for her now, like buy her stuff?"

It took Angel an extra moment to digest the situation. "Er… I don't know." Angel gestured feebly. "Have you talked about it?"

"I can't talk to her! If I ask and we are, she'll be hurt I had to ask, and if we're not, she'll laugh at me for being so dumb."

Angel smiled with one corner of his mouth. "You're more perceptive than I ever was."

"No, I just watched Luke go through the same thing last month with another girl."

Angel gave a nod that said, Oh.

"And…" William began, but hesitated. He glanced at the floor and kicked his feet under the table.

"And?" Angel prompted.

William's eyes shifted around, then met Angel's. He leaned forward. "Promise you won't tell anyone if I tell you? No one?"

Angel could think of very few people he would be able to tell the secret to. Nevertheless, he promised. William bit his lips together before quietly saying, "Jamina kissed me today."

Angel smiled slightly.

William's stared at Angel in tense expectation. "Well?" he asked, "Is she my girlfriend? Don't you only kiss someone you're in a relationship with?"

"Well," Angel started, "Not necessarily. Sometimes kissing is what starts a relationship."

William frowned in thought. "So our relationship started today?"

"Well, it doesn't always start the relationship."

"Then how do you know?"

Angel sighed and rubbed his head again, at a loss for an answer.

"How did you know with your first girlfriend?"

Angel's hand froze in his hair.

"Angel?" William pushed after several moments of silence.

"Uh…what?" Angel lowered his hand.

"Your first girlfriend. How did you know?"

The water began to boil and Angel hastened to tend to it. Frustrated, William once again prompted, more forcefully this time, "Angel?"

Angel took a breath. "Truthfully, William, I don't know who my first girlfriend was."

"You don't know? Why?"

"Sugar? Milk?"

"Both, please. Angel, how can you not know who your first girlfriend was?"

"Well, you don't know, do you? Get the sugar, will you?"

William stood up to get the sugar, but kept talking. "I don't know now, but it's just happening to me. You-"

"William," Angel interrupted, turning away from the tea, "I'm really not the best person to ask. My most normal relationships were with a vampire, a Slayer, and a werewolf," then Angel added, "and almost a Seer." William's eyes widened in surprise. "Trust me, I'm not the person to go to with normal, healthy, teenage relationship problems."

"But…" William sat back down at the table with the sugar. "Who else do I go to? None of my other friends have ever had a girlfriend. You know more than anyone else I know, even if your girlfriends were weird, and you won't laugh at me if I ask something dumb, or sit me down for an awkward talk like my mom did-like we don't already have a sex ed class at school... And also, no one else would be honest with me, like you." William paused. "So can you help me?"

Angel let William's words settle a minute, a little flattered in spite of himself. He sat down in front of William and took a breath.

"William, I really don't know if she's your girlfriend. I have no idea how 12-year-old girls' minds work. All I can suggest is that you ask her. Or you could wait and see what happens, but that can backfire."

William nodded thoughtfully.

"If it helps," Angel continued, "you could subtly add that you're trying to be open and honest about the situation, like you're supposed to do in real, adult relationships."

William smiled and nodded again. "Yeah, okay, I can do that."

"So…that helped?"

"Yup, that helped. Thanks." William stood up to bring the tea to the table. "Now, I need more information on the French Revolution…"

A few more months passed by. Angel occasionally included William on more trips to Ferguson's or let him watch on the unusual occurrence that Angel had to mix something up, but that was as far into magic as he took him. Small steps.

The winter was cold as ever. William's afternoons were often spent in snowball fights in any one of the city's numerous parks, so his visits had temporarily decreased. Angel was quite content to sit inside and read on these afternoons, and enjoyed a lull in demonic activity, as it was most demons' instinct to nest in the cold weather. He enjoyed not needing to go out and assess the level of chaos in his city; the downside to being able to control the chaos meant that he actually needed to control it constantly. Sometimes that meant physically destroying the chaos-makers, but more often it meant reminding them that he could. It was a less violent approach that not only suited his quieter lifestyle, but that an old friend of Angel's would have approved of, and perhaps hugged him for. That friend wasn't around much anymore, but Angel still felt a small amount of pride in how he handled the demon population of Galway. A little bit monster, a little bit human.

And the human part was certainly getting its exercise lately. Many of William's visits during those months consisted of William happily bemoaning the fact that having a girlfriend was more work than it was worth, throwing Angel into the modern world of adolescent relationships. Angel found himself at a loss for advice. Not having been in any kind of romantic relationship for 200 years, the only related advice he felt qualified to give was sexual, and it was still far too early for that (although it occurred to Angel that those days would be coming, and much faster than he expected. He'd experienced a momentary panic attack at that realization).

Relationship advice didn't seem to be quite what William needed, though. Questions would pop up in his rants, but he would move on to a different point in the same breath, seemingly content for the questions to remain rhetorical as long as he got to spill every new thing on his mind. So as long as Angel didn't have to talk, he was content to listen.

Apparently, Jamina like her men chivalrous. She had William carrying her books, holding her hand as she flounced off stairs or off the curb, steering her around ice patches (thus forcing William to walk on them instead), and periodically surprising her with flowers ("Do you know how expensive it is to buy fresh flowers in the dead of winter?!"). Angel listened with amusement, occasionally adding his two cents, but for the most part letting William rant (with some amount of pride) about this new part of his life.

Winter turned into early spring. As the snow melted and refroze and melted again, the ground turned to icy mush and the weather cold and rainy. William came more often again, seeking warmth and dryness. March came with a few sparse grass shoots and the distinct scent of stirring plant life, and Angel found himself involved in more battles of authority with creatures of the night on his various errands and walks around town. He saved a girl.

The nature of William's visits had gradually shifted with the season, as well. Now he sometimes came simply to enjoy Angel's company rather than ask for stories or to seek an attentive ear. In addition to their normal routine of conversation over tea, sometimes Angel would find a book for him to read and they'd spend the afternoon in companionable silence.

This is what they were doing one afternoon when William surprised Angel by mentioning Calder, of whom Angel had heard nothing for months. Angel was comfortable sitting low in his armchair, feet propped up on the apothecary table, and William stretched across the couch.

Without introduction to the topic, William laid his book across his chest and said, "It's Calder's birthday tomorrow. His 13th."

Angel looked up and considered the statement. "How does that make you feel?"

William shrugged. "I don't know. It just…is…I guess."

Angel nodded. He knew the feeling. "Do you ever talk to him?"

William shook his head.

"Only when we have to, in school. He still hangs out with his other friends. They're all older. Some…" He hesitated. "Some of them smoke."

"Does Calder?"

"Not that I've seen. But I wouldn't know anymore."

Angel didn't respond. William sighed quietly and returned to his book.

Perhaps it was because William had reminded Angel of Calder's birthday that Angel actually saw Calder the next night. Related events, Angel noticed, tended to come in clumps, so it shouldn't have surprised him to see Calder and several of his friends emerging from a high-end magic shop several blocks on the other side of Ferguson's.

Angel came to this place when he needed something of quality; tonight it was an old, rare demonology book the owner had found for him. Angel had been trying for decades to get even a copy, as many of the creatures described in it were too rare (and too dark) to be mentioned in most encyclopedias, and tonight he was about to get one of the originals. Wesley would have been downright giddy.

The book was temporarily pushed from Angel's mind, however, when he saw the group of six or seven teenagers exiting the shop. Calder had grown several inches since Angel had last seen him. His loud energy was still there, though expressed in more aggressive terms, such as punching his friends in the arm (which the whole group seemed apt to do). Deciding that the book could wait a little longer, Angel followed the group; partly out of curiosity about the people Calder had left William for, and partly to see what they were doing with whatever they had bought in the magic shop. Teens and magic rarely produced anything good.

As the gang led Angel to wherever they were going, which evidently was just across the street in Merlin Park Woods (Angel didn't even have to try to hide in the darkness of the trees), he observed the dynamics of the group. The oldest members, who were indeed smoking, were 16 or 17. One of them walked with an air of invincibility in the middle of the whole group. He was tall, and had long brown hair and an arrogant saunter. Calder's gaze when he looked at this one betrayed admiration. The leader, without a doubt.

The rest of the group seemed to all be older than Calder, just as William had said. It made sense, Angel thought, since it appeared that Calder was the complete bottom of the dominance chain. He was carrying the two bags from the shop and he took the constant teasing from the others in stride. In fact, he seemed to enjoy the teasing; like it was a test he knew he could pass.

The walk through the woods was short. The trails they took led them straight to where Angel's suspicions had already placed their destination: Merlin Castle. A tourist attraction now, the small, ancient castle, consisting of the original stone tower with a reconstructed house-like attachment that was half as tall as the tower itself had been preserved for people to admire, and Angel couldn't believe there wasn't some form of security system monitoring the inside. Yet the boys beelined for it, quieting down as they snuck across the open field toward the castle.

The castle was situated at the very edge of the woods; just a thin line of trees delineating between park and city. The boys stayed on the forest side of the castle, where the front entrance was, out of the sight of the city and its lights. Angel, however, crept around the line of trees toward the city so that he was closer to see and listen. The boys now in profile, Angel leaned back against a tree to watch.

They were a few hundred feet away and it was a clear night, meaning that the city lights couldn't reflect off the clouds, so it was hard even for Angel to tell what was going on. They were hovering around the entrance, two or three of them actually doing something while the others loitered. Then there was a celebratory commotion that was quickly quieted by the leaders, and one by one, they filed into the main entrance, as if neither lock nor alarm secured the place.

Very odd and probably not good.

The leader stopped one of the kids, whom Angel had decided to be next lowest in the hierarchy, from entering to stay behind as guard before slipping in himself and closing the door.

Angel waited and watched in case he heard deathly screams from a mis-cast spell, wondering if he should feel obligated to go and interrupt whatever they were doing. Angel generally made it a point not to involve himself in human affairs, but if they were summoning something, Angel's life would be a lot easier if he stopped it now.

Not that he didn't harbor concern for the kids' safety, too-especially Calder's-but he wasn't in the habit of doling out consequences for stupid actions; not anymore. There also wasn't anything particularly potent about this time or place, magically speaking. It wasn't a full moon or a new moon, and though the castle, he supposed, had magnificent atmosphere, nothing interesting or unholy had ever happened there, to Angel's knowledge. When Angel was a kid, Francis Blake and his family had lived there, and they had been as boring and pious as they came. Whatever these kids were attempting would have mediocre effect, and the very fact that they didn't even know to go down to the ruins in Roscam to enhance their magic meant that they were so amateur, there was a good chance that whatever they were doing would not work, anyway.

So Angel just watched to see what would happen, noticing in a detached kind of way just how chilly the March night air was, especially in the light breeze. He didn't mind standing in the darkness, though it was obvious the guard did, who seemed extremely bored and put out that he couldn't join in the fun.

In time, noises from inside roused the kid and he quickly stood up from his sitting position against the door, putting on all pretenses that he'd been standing faithfully there the whole time. When Calder came out, the guard thumped him on the back in what seemed to be congratulations, adding to the rain of hands over Calder as the others poured out behind him.

Ah, Angel realized. They must have just initiated him.

Two of the figures hovered at the door again, probably re-engaging the security system, before joining the crowd as they moved around the other side of the castle toward the city. Angel matched their progress.

The kids were laughing and joking, drunk on their own sense of invincibility, and it wasn't until they reached the other side of the line of trees bordering the city that anyone said anything of interest.

"So, Pan," the leader said, "Friday night, right? You won't have to guard now..." He winked and clapped Calder's shoulder. Calder grinned.

"Yeah, right. Friday night."

"Oh, here." The leader pulled a pack of cigarettes from his pocket and offered one to Calder. "For being a good sport. Pontus here," he playfully punched the guard on the shoulder, "screamed like a little girl. Didn't you?"

He chuckled at his friend's scowl and turned back to Calder, tossing him a lighter. "You can light it yourself right? See you, then."

The rest of the gang murmured their various farewells and thudded and punched Calder again appreciatively. Then the boys split off on their different paths toward home. Angel followed Calder as he turned and headed back toward across the field again a narrow section of woods that would be a shortcut, presumably, to the nearest red line stop that would take him to the other side of Old Galway.

Once at the edge of the woods and well out of sight and hearing of the others, Calder stopped and leaned against a tree to light his cigarette. It was obviously his first.

Angel approached Calder out of the shadow of the trees. "Nice friends you have."

Calder jumped, dropping his lighter as he pulled the cigarette out of his mouth. Angel smelled a shock of adrenaline rush through him. When Calder saw who it was, he breathed a sigh of relief. Angel continued, "They seem to like you a lot. I'm confused, though: why do they call you 'Pan'?"

"It's a code name." Calder said, bending to pick up the lighter and knocking the dirt off of it. "So no one knows who we are. We're all named after the Greek gods." He put the cigarette back in his mouth.

"Do you get to choose?"

"No, Zeus does," he said, concentrating on getting the cigarette lit.

Angel chuckled. "Of course… You do know Pan was the god of sheep, right?"

Calder coughed and yanked the cigarette out of his mouth again. He looked up incredulously at Angel.

"Sheep?!"

"Well, flocks of sheep. And shepherds. And he was half-goat."

Calder swore bitterly under his breath. Angel pretended not to notice the sideways glance from him, looking for a startled reaction at how foul Calder's mouth had become.

"I wouldn't worry about it," Angel said. "I doubt the others know, either." Angel started walking down the path and Calder fell into step with him, the cigarette back in his mouth and once again trying to light it.

"How 'ong ha' 'oo ven fowowin' 'e?" Calder asked, causing the cigarette to bounce in and out of the flame as he talked.

"Since the magic shop." Sometimes Angel swore he could actually hear the heart plunge into the stomach.

"De mashek sho'?"

"I was going there myself, but I saw you coming out with your friends and I thought, 'gosh. It's just been so long since I've seen Calder. I wonder what he's up to these days?'"

Calder pulled the cigarrete out of his mouth again so he could talk. "So you stalked me?"

"Well, if you want to call it that..."

Calder glared at Angel and then looked at his cigarette in equal frustration. He seemed to have decided to give up on holding it in his mouth to light it, for he now simply held the end of the cigarette in the flame, turning it over like a marshmallow in a campfire. Of course it had absolutely no effect, and Angel suppressed a snicker at Calder's vexed grunt.

Angel reached over and pulled the cigarette and the lighter from the boy's hands, ignoring his noise of protest. Sticking the cigarette in his own mouth, Angel lit it properly for Calder, drawing in a deep breath of smoke before handing back.

"You know these things can kill you," Angel told him. Centuries of the Surgeon General's Warning had yet to sink in.

"You're one to talk," Calder said, eyeing the cloud of smoke that trailed behind Angel. He took a puff and suppressed a cough.

"I'm already dead, remember?" Angel watched with hidden amusement as Calder tried and failed to coolly inhale another breath of smoke. "So what's happening Friday night?" Angel asked.

Calder glared at Angel. "Nothing. Just hanging out."

Angel didn't believe him, of course, but it didn't matter. Silence fell as they walked, except for more suppressed coughs from Calder. Calder kept glancing at Angel suspiciously, as though waiting for something, but Angel's gaze stayed forward on the dark wooded path. Finally, it seemed that Calder couldn't take it anymore.

"Well?" he asked.

"Well what?"

"Aren't you going to lecture me on the dangers of magic and smoking and staying out late at night?"

Angel chuckled. "I'm not your father, Calder."

"I know, but that hasn't stopped you from lecturing me before."

"I didn't want to be responsible for introducing you to a world you were too young to understand. I tried to warn you about the consequences involved with magic, but that's as far as I went and as far as I'll ever go, unless you become a danger to others. As for smoking and staying out late…" Angel looked at Calder. "You should already know the danger there."

He paused.

"You're thirteen today, right? That makes you a man in some ancient cultures." Angel looked forward again. "You're responsible for your actions now. I can't forbid you to do anything," Angel gave a little chuckle, "and I don't really want to." Silence fell briefly and they emerged from the other side of the woods, high rises towering over the trees, which towered over Angel and Calder.

"So, you're not mad at me?" Calder asked, stopping to wait to cross the street.

Angel shook his head. "No."

He turned right to head back to the magic store, and Calder looked down at the pavement, watching the smoke curl up from the cigarette in his hand. A few steps later Angel turned so he was walking backwards. "I think you've made a few bad choices"—Calder looked up—"but I'm not one to talk about that."

And Angel turned, leaving Calder behind at the intersection.