Chapter Two
The Watcher's Council was in an old yet elegant house in an equally old and elegant London neighborhood. There was a wrought iron gate and a yard with plenty of neat hedges lining the iron fence for privacy. The house was four stories tall if you included the gabled attic and it was made of stone; it seemed to loom over them, even standing far back at the road.
They had come by there slowly, with the sun not completely set yet and Angel needing to carefully navigate the elongating shadows after they'd exited the tube station. William had been to London several times before but never this part, and he enjoyed the slower pace they took.
At the large front gates, Angel pressed the button on the callbox to the side and when prompted, said their names. Seconds later, a lock clicked and the gates swung inward. Angel led them up the path to the front door, his coat flapping around his ankles. They jogged up several stone steps to a bright blue front door, which opened as they approached.
A man dressed as a real butler - like from the old-time holos - stood in the doorway waiting for them.
"Identification, please," he said in a soft yet strict British accent, holding up an ID scanner.
Angel tapped his Palm ring to the small, Palm-sized device and his ID flashed on the screen. The butler nodded in satisfaction and turned to Calder, who was next in line. Once all their IDs had been verified, the butler let them in and closed the door behind them.
Inside it was dark, despite the tall windows in the foyer. Wood paneling and furniture was everywhere; weapons of all kinds displayed on the walls; heavy curtains of dark blue half-closed over each window. Several doors led off on either side, all shut, and in front of them was a wide carpeted staircase that turned to the left and went out of sight. Where there weren't weapons on the walls there were portraits, each with a little plaque underneath. There was even a real working grandfather clock ticking against the wall to their left. Other than that, it was completely silent.
"To whom may I direct you?" the butler asked.
"Whoever's in charge these days," Angel told him.
"Are you expected?"
"No," Angel replied. "But I'm overdue. We have some catching up to do."
"Very well," the butler nodded. He turned on his heel and walked toward one of the rooms to the right. He showed them in and asked them to wait a few moments before closing the door behind them.
This room was brighter, possibly because the walls were covered in a light blue and white pattern instead of dark wood paneling. There were couches and tables, a great stone fireplace, bookshelves, and yet more portraits and weapons on the walls.
"Whoa," Calder said softly in the silence. "Have we gone back in time?"
"Watchers are big on tradition," Angel said, wandering over to look at some of the portraits on the walls. His voice was also quiet, like the silence of the house seemed to demand it.
"It's so quiet," William observed, turning to take in the room.
"It's not completely quiet," Angel replied. "I hear movement; just not nearby. And there's a scent of fear all over."
Calder swore mildly under his breath. "Guess it's a good thing we're here…"
"Yeah," Angel agreed, seeming distracted. He nodded to the painting in front of him. "This is her."
William and Calder came over to look.
"Buffy?" Calder asked, although he didn't really need to. They'd both seen pictures of her, both from life and Angel's drawings of her. Also, the plaque underneath confirmed it.
Still, Angel nodded. "It's strange to see her like that, though."
"Sitting in a chair?" Calder asked.
"Yeah," Angel said. "She was always doing things. If she had that expression on her face - determination, authority...regality - it was because she was in battle. Leading a charge to slay evil. Or, you know, because her sister borrowed her shirt without asking." A small smile crept onto Angel's face. "If she was sitting, she was relaxing. Happy. With her friends."
The way the portrait had been painted made it look like Buffy was never the kind of person who would do something as quotidian as hang with her friends, but William supposed that was the point of these kinds of paintings.
"Also," Angel added, his expression turning to distaste as his gaze lowered to the bottom of the painting, "she would never have worn shoes like that."
Calder laughed. William smiled, but he was looking more at Angel than at Buffy's painted shoes. It was rare to catch Angel in a nostalgic mood like this. Nostalgia, he'd once admitted to William, still felt like vulnerability to him. It was the last remnant softness in the heart reserved for a particular person or memory, and that last remnant was precious. Angel had been opening up in the last ten years, since he'd finally told William and Calder about his elderly son who was still living in the city, and William most often saw this look when they were talking about Connor.
"It's kind of crazy," Calder said when he'd finished laughing, "that you know things like that about someone who lived 200 years ago. And that you remember them."
"Well, she was important," Angel replied. "And my first love. You never forget that."
The door opened suddenly and the butler stepped back into the room. "Announcing Head Watcher Penelope Markle," he said, and then stepped aside to allow a short woman with light red hair that was pulled back in a tight knot to come into the room.
"Pippa, Byers," Head Watcher Markle said, rolling her eyes slightly. "It's Head Watcher Pippa Markle."
"Apologies, ma'am," Butler Byers said dryly. "Shall I call for tea?"
"Yes, please," she replied.
"Very good," Byers said, and closed the door again.
Head Watcher Markle sighed. "What's the point of being Head Watcher if you can't get people to stop calling you Penelope?" She approached them, extending her hand. "Ms. Markle is fine, or Head Watcher Markle. Hell, call me Pippa if you want, just don't ever call me Penelope."
Angel took her hand, chuckling. "Angel. Just the one name."
"I know," Head Watcher Markle replied. "And not just because everyone knows who you are. I was here the last time you stopped in. Just graduated from the Academy. I stood in the back and fetched the books for everyone else."
"Ah," Angel nodded. "I'm afraid I don't remember you."
"I don't take it personally," Head Watcher Markle replied. "Although I will if you forget me next time." She gave a little I'm-not-kidding smile and turned to William, hand outstretched.
"William Cole," William said, taking it. "Pleasure."
"Pleasure," she returned, and then moved on to Calder.
"Calder Lauchley. Pleasure."
"Pleasure," she nodded. "Well that was pleasant for all of us, apparently. Let's sit down."
She led the way over to the seating area and chose an armchair to sit in. William and Calder shared a sofa while Angel picked his own armchair.
"So to what do we owe this apparent pleasure?" Head Watcher Markle asked when they'd all settled. "It's not often you grace us with a visit, Angel."
"There are a few things to update you on," Angel replied. "And I figure you guys probably have some updates for me, too."
"That's probably true…" Head Watcher Markle said slowly. "I'll have to read the ordinance regarding you again. To be honest, I'm not quite sure what we're supposed to keep you informed on."
"Mostly world-ending things," Angel said. "Shifting allegiances, growing powers, that sort of thing."
"Right…" Head Watcher Markle nodded. "Well, guests first," she said, gesturing to Angel.
Before Angel could start, their tea arrived, and he waited until it was poured and served and Butler Byers had been dismissed. He left his tea sitting on the coffee table in front of him, steaming, and when Head Watcher Markle prompted him, he said, "I brought William and Calder here to meet you in person as Champions for Good for the Powers That Be. They live and operate primarily out of Galway."
Head Watcher Markle's eyebrows raised in interest. "Champions? Interesting. We haven't had a Champion in this area of the world for quite some time. They've hardly been necessary. Not to imply that you're unnecessary," she added quickly to William and Calder. "We could always use more help on our side. It's a never ending battle. Literally, I think. But with the Slayer training academy here and that stronghold still in Edinburgh, it's interesting that the Powers would call Champions so nearby."
Angel shrugged, but he was frowning. "Apparently they were marked from the beginning. Could be the circumstances were just right. Sorry, did you say that the Slayer training academy is here? I thought Edinburgh was the official training grounds."
Head Watcher Markle shook her head. "It used to be, but we moved it here about six years back. There's more demonic activity here; better for field practice, and we don't need a whole castle to house them all anymore."
Angel nodded slowly, taking that in.
"So," Head Watcher Markle turned to Calder and William, "who is your Seer? Don't the Powers usually pair their Champions with a Seer?"
On the train, Angel had told them not to mention that he was their Seer until he'd gotten a chance to get the feel for the new Head, so William and Calder looked at each other uncertainly until Angel cleared his throat and said,
"I guess that's the next update." He paused, picked up his teacup and tapped his fingers lightly against the delicate porcelain. "It's me. I'm their Seer."
Head Watcher Markle blinked in surprise. "Oh," she said. "I didn't realize you had the sight." She frowned. "Unless I'm supposed to know that from your file."
"No," Angel replied, "it wouldn't be in your file. Buffy didn't even know. It was passed to me from Cordelia Chase when she died."
"Ohhh," Head Watcher Markle nodded, putting the pieces together. "But you don't expect me to keep this out of your file?"
"No," Angel replied. "It's fine if it's known. Now that I've chosen to use it, it can't exactly be hidden."
"Not at all," Head Watcher Markle agreed. "We did hear the rumors that you'd started working for the Powers That Be again, but we assumed that meant as a Champion. That was several years ago, though."
Calder spoke up, "Not for an immortal. It's like a few blinks of an eye."
Head Watcher Markle smiled. "I suppose so. Well, I suppose this means paperwork. At least I'm high enough to delegate now…" She took a sip of her tea. "Is that all?"
"That's pretty much it on our end," Angel replied. "What's going on in yours?"
Head Watcher Markle gave a little smile and didn't answer immediately. "Nothing world-ending," she finally replied. "I'm happy to provide you with the reports of actual near-world-ending events that occurred since your last meeting with the Council, if you want, but currently things are relatively quiet."
"I guess it can't hurt to know," Angel said. "If it's not too much of a bother."
Head Watcher Markle shook her head. "The records are easy to access. I'll have Byers take you to the library when we're done here. Other than that, let's see… I was appointed Head Watcher seven- no, eight years ago, now."
William asked, "So you made the call to move training here from Edinburgh?"
Head Watcher Markle turned her small smile to him. "You're quick, aren't you? Yes, I made the call. Lots of things tend to change with leadership turnover, you know."
"Like what else?" William asked.
Head Watcher Markle considered the question for a moment. "That was probably the big one," she replied. "It took up a lot of our time and resources to make the move, and that kept us busy. But there really hasn't been any other world-ending problems to distract us. We're in a lull, but we're preparing for that to change any day."
"How do you prepare?" Calder asked.
"Training," Head Watcher Markle told him promptly. "Recruitment of Potentials who might be activated and training them. We have a leadership program that's been in place for a few decades now so that the Slayers can organize more effectively. As always, we strive to keep our Watcher's program top-notch to give each Slayer the resources she needs. And, of course, we have a network of contacts all over the world who keep us informed of the movements of the enemy. Angel being one of our contacts, of course."
Calder nodded, seeming satisfied with that answer. William had to agree; it sounded like they were on top of things.
"What kind of training tactics do you use?" Angel asked, sounding curious, but William had to guess that he was probing for possible reasons why there might be a scent of fear lingering around the place.
"The same we've been using for the last several centuries, why?" Head Watcher Markle asked.
Angel shrugged. "Just curious. You Watchers are a stickler for tradition but I didn't want to lock you into a stereotype."
Head Watcher Markle gave half a chuckle. "You vampires aren't exactly the innovative sort yourself."
"Touché," Angel agreed.
There were several seconds of silence before Head Watcher Markle asked, "Anything else?"
Angel nodded, "Do you have enough room to put us up for the night? We were planning on going home on the 1900 train tomorrow. Maybe the next night, if the kids want to do some sightseeing."
Angel was an immortal, William reminded himself. When William was 80, he'd still be a kid in Angel's eyes. If he made it to 80.
Head Watcher Markle nodded. "We do have some guest rooms set aside. I'll have Byers give you the tour." She tapped her Palm bracelet twice and said, "Byers. Parlor," and then lowered her wrist again. "Contact Byers if you need anything. It's good that you came, Angel. I was beginning to wonder if I needed to contact you myself."
"Now you won't have to for another nine years," Angel said, standing up. He'd hardly touched his tea at all.
"And hopefully not sooner, or then it'll mean another apocalypse."
"Well, I've got two Champions to donate to the cause," Angel replied, gesturing to William and Calder as they stood up.
Calder nodded in agreement. William did, too, but belatedly, thinking that he'd rather volunteer than be 'donated,' although he acknowledged that it was probably just a jovial turn of phrase.
"We'll be glad to have them," Head Watcher Markled replied.
The door opened and Butler Byers appeared. They said their good nights and thank yous to the Head Watcher and she took her leave of them, instructing Byers that they were to be given guest quarters and a tour. He nodded obediently and asked them to follow him.
He first led them down the hall that ran behind the parlor, which opened up on the left to the dining area.
"Meal- and teatimes are listed in your rooms," Butler Byers told them as they gazed on a small, empty dining hall, "and you may take your meals to your rooms, if you wish. Through here is the library…" He took them through the dining room, weaving around several tables that would cozily seat 6-8 people, and they walked through an open archway into a long, narrow library.
William could see a window at the far end; the last vestiges of light glowing through from the day. The room itself was well-lit, and several people - both women and men of varying ages - sat at small tables or were browsing the shelves.
"Of course, we have digital copies of everything," Byers told them in a soft whisper, "but anyone may access the hardcopies here. Public Council records are in those files, categorized by date." He pointed to a thick section of filing cabinets to their right. "In the spirit of free access to knowledge, the library is always open," he continued in his soft whisper, "but we do recommend that everyone get a good night's sleep." He smiled at them, and then led them forward and out into a different hall than the one they had come down.
At the end of the hall they climbed a set of stairs one flight, and then down another hall. Byers opened the door to one of the rooms on the left that flanked them.
"This has a queen-sized bed and a single," Byers told them as they entered, and which they could easily see for themselves. "If you require a third bed, the room next door is available, as well."
Angel shook his head. "This is great, thanks. Are the windows necrotempered?"
"I'm afraid not, sir," Byers replied. "We don't generally host vampires as guests."
Angel shrugged. "Worth a shot. Window's north-facing anyway."
Byers made a hum of agreement. "Washroom is just through there," he pointed to their left. "And there are extra blankets in the wardrobe. Can I bring you anything?"
All three of them shook their heads and Angel thanked him. Byers nodded and bowed himself out.
After the door closed, Calder said softly, "How weird is it that they have a real butler?"
"I think it's nice," Angel replied, dropping his bag on the single bed. "Feels like old times."
Calder snorted as he tossed his bag onto the foot of the queen bed and fell onto his back on the left side. "Classist and stuffy, you mean?"
"Yeah," Angel grinned at him.
William took the remaining spot on the queen bed and unzipped his bag to find his toothbrush.
"Are you getting ready for bed?" Calder asked him curiously.
"Might as well," William replied. "Teeth have to be brushed even if we're going sneaking around after hours, right?"
Calder shrugged and said he supposed so, although he didn't make any moves to do the same. He struck up a conversation with Angel while William went to the washroom to go through his bedtime routine.
About half an hour later, they decided to go ahead and start their snooping in the library, when it was still reasonable for them to be up and about. That way, they would also know when they were the last ones up.
The several people in the library had dwindled to a few, and with a glance the three of them split up. Angel headed over to the Council records, Calder to a young woman sitting at a table, and William into the stacks.
He didn't know what he was looking for. He supposed none of them did, but both Angel and Calder seemed to have some purpose with their searching. Files, a person… What were books going to tell William about someone who was afraid in the basement?
William had the thought that maybe he should strike up a conversation, too, but the man he passed seemed too involved in his book to want to be disturbed. William made it to the end of the row and found himself at a thick glass window looking out into the night's darkness. The glass was warped with age and had tiny little air bubbles, so William could only make out vague shapes of trees and plants against the background of city lights. There was a little window seat with a blue cushion, and William sat down for a moment, thinking about how this was exactly the sort of place you'd find secret passageways in the bookshelves.
It had been an idle thought of fancy at first, but then it occurred to William that he should actually look for such a thing. He got up and, pretending to browse the shelves, started looking for signs of hinges or hidden buttons or secret book keys.
He had reached the corner of the inner wall of the library when he found something: a gap between the shelf and the next shelf perpendicular to it and, looking closely, scuff marks on the corners of both shelves. William's heart leapt in excitement, and he felt along the side of the shelf to the back wall, feeling in the darkness up and down until...there! A hinge!
The shelf suddenly shuddered and moved and, startled, William jerked his hand back and leapt away as the entire shelf began to swing toward him. How late was it? Whoever was on the other side must have thought they were alone at this time of night, to be using a secret passage to who-knew-where and without even trying to be quiet about it.
The shelf stopped its forward swing and a teenage girl with black hair and glasses stepped out from behind it. "Oh," she blinked at him. "Sorry, I didn't think anyone would be here. Did you want through?" She gestured to the passageway behind her.
"Um, yeah," William said, dumbfounded. "Thanks."
She smiled and headed off down the row.
A little less convinced of the secrecy of this secret passage but nonetheless still excited, William entered the narrow tunnel, which was lit here and there by small hanging, shaded lights. He pulled the shelf shut behind him and set off.
The first stretch of passage clearly ran along the library wall, but then it dipped down several steps (presumably under the hallway?) and he had to crouch as the height of the tunnel shrunk, and then emerged again. The tunnel turned, and he thought he must be skirting the dining room, but by how much he couldn't tell.
Then there was an abrupt left turn and another dip, and on the other side was a door. There was no latch, so he simply pushed. The door gave way, and, excitement building, William stepped out.
He was back in the parlor.
His heart sank in disappointment. He wondered who on earth would go to all the trouble of building this secret passage between the parlor and the library, of all places, except maybe for the simple love of secret passages. He closed the door, which blended seamlessly into the wall, and went back out into the front foyer.
He had intended to go back to the library, but suddenly realizing that he was on his own in the dark building, he felt a sense of freedom in his ability to snoop. If he was caught being somewhere he shouldn't, he could legitimately say that he got lost wandering through the not-so-secret passageways and was just trying to find the library again. Or his room, or hell, the stairs.
So William started walking in the exact opposite direction of the library.
He crossed the front foyer and tried one of the doors. Locked. So was the next one he tried. Heading down the hallway that led in the opposite direction of the library and dining hall, William tried the first door he came to.
This one opened. William poked his head in cautiously. It was dark, so he stepped inside, closed the door behind him, and softly said, "Lights on, 50%." The lights came on and William looked around.
It seemed to be an old-style classroom, with individual desks and chairs in neat rows facing a blackboard (a real blackboard, like the kind at the children's history museum they let kids write on). The blackboard was filled with chalk writing about important historical events since 1850. There were maps of Europe and the world on the walls and the computer display at the teacher's desk showed quick links to history-related videos and lectures.
Why would the Watcher's Academy have a whole room devoted to history-teaching? Was it a tradition thing?
Turning off the lights on his way out, William continued down the hall.
The next room was also a classroom, this one devoted to cultural studies, including technology development and (presumably, based on some of the charts on the wall) its effect on society. This puzzled William even more. This wasn't primary school, it was a demonology institute. Where were the classrooms on demonology?
That question was soon answered: the next room down was the demonology room. And across the hall was a workout training room, with mats, dummies, and various weapons.
Having explored the whole hall, William headed back toward the foyer. What he really wanted to find was a door to the sublevel, but he guessed it was one of the locked ones. Every other room he found on his way toward the library was either a classroom or a study room.
Calder was still talking with the young woman at one of the tables in the library, so William went over to Angel, who was alone at his own table leafing through paper records.
After describing what William had found, Angel said quietly, frowning, "Why would either the Watchers or the Slayers need to study technology development? History, I can see, you know, 'studying the old traditional ways,' but tech?"
William nodded. "I was wondering that, too. And it wasn't even all super-old history. I mean, yes, back to 1850, but most of it concentrated on 2003 and later."
"2003?" Angel asked, looking up at him.
William nodded. He'd noted that date on the board because it was circled. "The year the Slayers were all activated by Willow Rosenberg."
Angel was silent for a long moment, thinking. Finally, he asked, "Anything else?"
William shook his head. "Locked doors. I didn't want to try breaking in in case they're alarmed."
"Right," Angel agreed, "seems early for that. Maybe they're unlocked during the day. I might even be able to take refuge from the sun down there, since the windows aren't necrotempered."
William nodded. "So did you find anything interesting?"
Angel gestured to the papers in front of him. "Lots of redacted stuff about the decision to move the Slayer training academy here."
"Weird," William frowned. "What would be confidential about that?"
Angel shrugged. "Could be something related to the unusual curriculum, couldn't it? Want to see if you can find anything in the files about Markle's transition to power? She's the one who made the call."
William nodded and went over to the cabinets of public records, looking for the files from eight years ago and pulling them out. He and Angel spent the next hour going through files, soon joined by Calder (who had gotten a lot of personal information out of the Watcher-in-training, but nothing useful to the puzzle). Eventually, the three of them were the only ones left in the library.
They didn't come up with much else that was interesting, beyond more redacted documents. After William yawned for the fifth time in a row, Angel finally said, "Why don't you two go on to bed? I can go through these on my own for a while."
Calder asked, "You sure? We d-don't mind," he yawned after William.
Half-smiling, Angel replied, "I'm sure. I'll take the night shift snoop, you guys can take the day shift."
So William and Calder got up and put away the files they had already gone through before heading upstairs.
"This is always my least favorite part," Calder said as they climbed the staircase. "Let's just get to the action already, huh?"
William shrugged. "I kind of like it, actually. Puzzles are fun. And much less life and death."
"That's exactly my point," Calder replied, turning to grin at him.
Calder had been William's best friend since they were five. They knew very well how they differed on this. Sometimes, William thought that Calder was probably still alive because William forced him to slow down. And William was probably still alive because Calder forced him into action. It was a balanced partnership that way, and it was nice, but it also made William feel a little stuck occasionally.
Not that he could exactly thwart destiny and not be a Champion anymore, but if he could… What would become of Calder? If something happened to him, would William spend the rest of his life wondering if he was responsible by not being there?
Or would William be dead right alongside him?
After sending the boys (now young men, Angel had to admit) to bed, Angel spent a few minutes finishing the file he was on before leaning back with a sigh, rolling his neck out from the prolonged bent-over posture.
It felt strange to be there: both familiar and unfamiliar at the same time, like meeting the great-great-great descendents of family members. Which, he supposed in a way, that's exactly what it was. After the Council had been reformed by Buffy, Willow, Giles, and the others, the new structures and laws they'd created had largely endured throughout the years, but had also been reinterpreted and molded by successive generations of Slayers and Watchers. The genetics of the institution had been passed on, but the faces looked different.
Angel got up to put his file away and instead of pulling out the next one, he closed the drawer and went to a different cabinet entirely. It took him a little while to find the files but he eventually pulled out four very thick folders and carried them back over to the table.
He opened his first. He knew mostly what he'd find there: born in Galway, Ireland 1727, died in Galway, Ireland, 1753. Centuries of destruction (not all described here, but cross-referenced with different files). The Curse of the Soul. His time in Southern California. Etc. He was mostly interested in what was in his file after the reformation of the Council: the proceedings regarding his treatment moving forward. He had been present at a few of them to give testimony, but a lot of the final discussions had been done in closed meetings where they could talk about him freely.
Toward the back of the file, he found it: transcripts of the negotiations between Buffy and the new head of the Watcher's Council at the time. He leaned back in his chair, reading. Soon, his eyes were blurred with tears.
He and Buffy hadn't had much contact after his time at Wolfram & Hart, between his stained Good Guy reputation and their personal history, but they had checked in on each other from time to time. Reading her exact words testifying and also demanding his fair treatment and involvement - should he want it - with the Council's activities in the future sliced open the wounds of grief in his heart: neat but painful. He didn't get very far but he did take pictures to read later, if he wanted to.
Angel opened Darla's file next, also mostly knowing what he'd find but curious if there were any surprises.
Her story after he'd killed her in Sunnydale was sparse, but contained the important bits (was resurrected by an evil law firm, prophetically impregnated by Angel, died in childbirth). There wasn't anything else of note after that. Angel and the Council both agreed that she was long gone.
Angel looked at Spike's file next, going straight to the back to confirm that he was gone, too. Angel hadn't seen or heard anything definitive after the Senior Partners launched their attack on Los Angeles, so he assumed that Spike hadn't made it through the battle. Again, it seemed that the Council agreed. The most recent entry in the file described Spike's part in the battle as they could piece it together, and concluded with a note that without further evidence, Spike was presumed dead.
It was Drusilla's file Angel was most interested in, and also the most apprehensive about. Angel had crossed her path once after the Senior Partners fell, and that was only peripherally. He had passed through Mexico City and just known that she had been nearby. He had left within hours, though, and never followed up, never asked.
The thing about knowing where his childe was, Angel thought as he read through the more recent entries, was that it put more of a burden of responsibility on him to do something about it. He had created that monster, in every sense, and he had set her loose on the world. If their paths crossed again, he knew he should kill her. But, like back in Sunnydale, he didn't know if he could. Not especially when they were the only two left. He could grieve her more cleanly if someone else killed her instead. One of the Slayers, maybe.
The last entry for Drusilla was a little over a decade prior, in Indonesia. She had been traveling with a male vampire named Vivaan whom she had sired when they had a run-in with a Slayer in Jakarta. Vivaan was killed; Drusilla and the Slayer survived. Current whereabouts of Drusilla unknown.
Angel blew out a breath, unsure how he felt about knowing that he'd had another grandchilde (probably more, knowing Dru). Part of him stirred with loss because Vivaan had been family. Another part of him stirred with loss because he had been human.
Angel closed the file, head spinning a little. After several still moments, he got up and put the files away, and spent another several moments just standing at the cabinets until the spinning stopped.
Angel shook himself and left the library abruptly, heading upstairs to try to get some sleep before the sun rose.
He had just finished brushing his teeth when his phone rang. He'd left the device itself in the bedroom, so he tapped the thick ring on the middle finger of his left hand quickly to answer it so that the boys could go back to sleep. That meant that he hadn't seen who the caller was as he lifted the ring near his cheek to say hello.
That meant he hadn't gotten even an extra second to worry about why the nursing home where Connor was living was calling him in the dead of night.