(Un)deadly Handsome Man

ROTM 1.49.1 - Cool Water

2007-03-12T15:45:44Z

1.49.1 - Cool Water

So one of the drawbacks to being both the heroic type and the vampire type is that there are some nights when there just isn't anything going on. No cults are performing rituals, no ancient demons are being summoned, and there aren't even roving packs of new vampires bumming around the nightclubs, looking for snacks. Nothing.

I used to make fun of Spike for being such a pop culture fiend. Mostly, it was because I didn't understand half of the jokes he made-- usually at my expense-- because I didn't watch TV constantly. I'm busy doing good deeds.

A couple of nights ago, though, there really was nothing at all to get up to, and at three in the morning, there just isn't much on TV to choose from if you don't shell out for satellite or digital.

When it comes to movies, I'm a classicist. I loved the '30s and '40s. Well, I guess to be more specific, I loved those times in movies. The actual decades weren't always so great to me, like the whole being trapped in a submarine with Spike thing. Man, did that come back to bite me in the ass, and it wasn't even Angelus.

Anyway, when I think of good movies, I think of Casablanca and A Night at the Opera and Lost Horizon. I think of Cary Grant, Katherine Hepburn and Spencer Tracy. Astaire and Rogers. (What?)

None of those movies were on. Instead, the local independent was running a Hammer Films "Dracula" marathon.

Don't get me wrong, Christopher Lee was about as good as it gets when it comes to movie vampires. And putting him and Peter Cushing together in Horror of Dracula to kick off the series was genius. But the movies aren't that great, even for movies with, let's say "modest", budgets. And they definitely got the vampire thing wrong in ways that even that guy Bram Stoker couldn't even dream of.

One, the "running water" thing is a crock. We can cross rivers, streams, aqueducts, storm drains, whatever. Seriously, if we couldn't walk past an underground water flow a hundred yards down or cross over a sewer, we'd never be able to get anywhere.

Stakes, yes. Crosses, yes. Holy water, yes. Sunlight and fire, yes. Silver, no. Garlic's debatable. I once met some Italian vampires who just reeked of the stuff.

The one that just makes me want to throw my shoe through the TV, though? Is when they just keep bringing him back! Dust is dust, all right? It doesn't matter how it comes, when your ticket's punched and you end up as something to sweep under the rug, that's all there is to it. No incantations, no pig's blood harvested on a third Tuesday under a purple moon, none of it's going to bring a vampire back.

Well, okay, Spike.

And Dracula, you say?

Yeah, well... name another one. Didn't think so.

Angel
'Angel' the series
Word Count: 487

ROTM 1.47.2 - "If Those I Loved Were Lost"

2007-02-23T06:51:00Z

1.47.2 - "If Those I Loved Were Lost" by Emily Dickenson

If those I loved were lost
The Crier's voice would tell me --
If those I loved were found
The bells of Ghent would ring --

((Locked to fakingitsomehow))

I guess this is confession time. Now that it's all said and done with Wolfram & Hart, and because I'm not sure what you might or might not remember now, I think you deserve to know the truth.

I have a son. His name is Connor, and his story's, well, quite a story.

A few years ago, Wolfram & Hart brought Darla back to life. Mostly, they wanted to distract me and maybe make me a little crazy. Once she got Dru to sire her, she was hoping that she could get Angelus and the bad old days back again. I got... obsessed with her. With saving her; and after she was turned, with destroying her.

I wanted to destroy her and everything evil in the city, no matter what I had to do. Those were dark, cold times. I remember being so angry and so frustrated at all the things that I'd tried to do right and never could that I stopped caring about helping people and only concerned myself with the punishing. I pushed-- no, I threw-- out of my life everyone I should have been turning to for help.

It wasn't until I woke up with Darla in my bed that I realized just how far I'd fallen. Darla had expected that I'd become Angelus. Instead, I had a moment of clarity, realizing what I'd done and how I needed to turn back before it was all over for me. It was a hard road getting back to myself, but I walked it.

Nine months later, Darla showed up again. Pregnant. I don't know how, and nobody's ever been able to explain. But she ended up giving up her own life-- such as it was-- so that the baby could live. Connor. Human, innocent and beautiful Connor.

The weeks I got to care for baby Connor were, as dumb as it sounds, magic. They were definitely the closest I've ever been to perfect happiness as... well, anyway... I was a father, and happy. So, of course, since the past can never leave me be, one of Angelus' old adversaries, a vampire hunter named Holtz, kidnapped Connor and took him into a hell dimension called the Quor'toth.

I thought I'd lost my son. Not long after, Connor came back. You remember how time passed for me in my trip to hell? Same for Connor. He was seventeen, and angrier and more bitter and poisoned a soul than I'd ever met. Holtz and his childhood in that dimension had turned him into a killing machine, full of rage and all of it directed at me.

Not that I could completely blame him. If it weren't for me, none of it would have happened.

Connor was a lost person, and so broken that there was no way to save him. When Wolfram & Hart made their offer, I only made one demand: to save Connor's life. More specifically, I guess, I wanted them to give him a life.

So, they changed the world. Every memory of Connor's existence the way he was got erased and altered. No one but me ever knew that I'd had a son, or about what Holtz had done, any of it. Connor was "adopted" into a normal family here in L.A., where for all he knew, he'd grown up in a typical Southern California family into a typical Southern California teenager. He was happy and content and had a future that didn't include vampires or demons or killing. Or me, especially, after all I'd done to him.

The spell got broken. Connor remembers, but he remembers his "new" life, too, and was wise enough to choose that over my world. He's amazing. He's going to college here, and the last I heard, was on an internship somewhere. I've seen him, but I won't be part of his life-- I can't do that to him.

So there it is. And I'll just be, uh, somewhere else... if and when you want to talk.

Angel
'Angel' the series
Word Count: 668, not counting excerpt of poem

Just Old Friends ((RP locked to _wiccabuffy_))

2007-02-10T07:17:28Z

Never had Angel been so frustrated that he couldn't look at himself in a mirror. It wasn't as if there was anything even remotely implied in the "date" he was having with Buffy that it would be anything but a couple of old acquaintances getting together to do some talking and shopping. Buffy would be getting a little long-overdue pampering, something he knew she gave herself almost never, and he'd get to provide that for her. Nothing implied.

Right.

Angel checked his watch, the glanced out of the window. The sun had gone just far enough behind the horizon, turning the smog layer over the city into a riot of reds and golds, that he would be all right heading out. It was twenty minutes later by the time he arrived at Buffy's motel.

He'd called her not long ago, not taking "no" for an answer to the question of her taking advantage of his hospitality and not sleeping in a cheap cardboard box motel, and Angel hoped she'd listened. Adjusting his jacket and hopefully touching up his hair, he knocked on her door.

Nothing implied, he reminded himself. No expectations.

Right.

ROTM 1.45.1 - Trinket

2007-02-09T19:02:44Z

1.45.1 - You just found a ________! Now what?

Like most mystical artifacts, it had one of those fancy storybook names, The Gem of Amara.

It was, well, a big fat gaudy-looking ring (maybe not as bad as a Super Bowl ring, but still) and unless you actually knew what it was, it'd be pretty unimpressive. Like I said, though, it was one of those mystical artifacts, and how it looked wasn't as interesting as what it could do. The Gem of Amara could shield a vampire from the damage of the sun, letting him or her walk around freely during the day.

Imagine it-- someone with that kind of strength and speed and abilities with their greatest weakness countered. A vampire that could walk in the sun would be ten times the threat of any ordinary one at night.

Spike had found it, Buffy had gotten it away from him, and sent it to me, believing that if any vampire in the world should have that kind of power, it would be me. I suppose my first reaction should be to be flattered. I might be a vampire fighting for the good side (and at the time, the only one), but I very much didn't think of myself as being all that virtuous. But apparently she did, and that's why it ended up in my hands.

So of course, I had to try it out-- for a bit. Sure, it ended up getting me tortured and beaten and I actually had to deal with Spike again, but all in all, getting to walk in the daylight along with the rest of the world was pretty amazing.

So of course, I had to destroy it. I put it on the edge of the roof and smashed it with a brick.

Like I told Doyle, the night was where I belonged-- not because I wasn't good enough to walk in the sun, but because the people who needed me most weren't there. The human world had its own protectors during the day, like the police and the government and even the Slayer. But everyone below, everyone in the shadows but still innocent and helpless, they didn't have anyone but me. And The Gem of Amara was too good, enough to tempt me into forgetting them.

They needed me, and I needed to help them.

Win some, lose some.

Angel
'Angel' the series
Word Count: 392

ROTM 1.44.2 - The Wrong Team

2007-02-02T06:14:47Z

1.44.2 - Have you ever cheered for the wrong team, chosen the wrong side, picked the wrong horse or backed the wrong person in a fight? If so, what would you do differently, if you could do it over?

Chosen the wrong side? Hell, I was the wrong side for a while.

You've got to imagine the way things were, at the end, there. We'd defeated a god. An exceptionally powerful being with the ability to entrance and subjugate the entire human race who required the sacrifice of ever more innocent lives to feed her power. We should have been on top of the world. Instead, the world had gone to hell.

You see, the problem was that Jasmine was killing with kindness. She wrapped up enslavement in the promise of world peace and universal cooperation. Worse than that, she delivered. Everyone in the world who heard her voice or saw her face was suddenly a better, calmer, saner and more understanding person. Wars ended, violence disappeared and people began to help one another.

But it was a lie. And even a good lie isn't the truth. So we destroyed her, and the madness started again, even worse this time, because people knew what they'd lost and what they got back in return.

It wasn't our fault. We ended a threat, but we're only human (even the vampire and the demon), and we felt responsible. But this was out of our league. The evil was spreading and gaining ground. The big bads were a lot bigger than they used to be. We needed a way to do more, reach further.

Wolfram & Hart extended their offer, and we took it.

We were wrong. I was wrong. I played right into their plans for us, and we fell right into the trap. Too many compromises were made, too many sacrifices in the name of the ideals we didn't even really believe in anymore. I don't know if I'd take it back, but I'd damn sure do it differently.

And I'd start by not opening that stupid envelope. Friggin' Spike.

Angel
'Angel' the series
Word Count: 311

ROTM 1.41.1 - Do you believe in love at first sight?

2007-01-12T22:36:00Z

1.41.1 - Do you believe in love at first sight? Has it ever happened to you?

You have to imagine the circumstances: I'd already had my soul for almost a hundred years, most of which I spent just wandering around the world and trying to stay the hell out of the way of history and society and anything else. I stuck around cities, though, mostly out of necessity. (Basically, where there's a lot of people, there's a lot of trash in the streets. Where there's a lot of trash in the streets, there's plenty of rats.)

So imagine me, derelict, homeless and near-starved vampire. Really, really dirty, too. And that's where fate found me, in the shape of a half-demon named Whistler whose job, he told me, was to clue me in on my destiny. The first part of my destiny involved getting into a beat-up old sedan with blacked-out windows and going on the worst road trip I've ever experienced since I had to ride in the back of a pig wagon.

California. Los Angeles, to be exact. The sedan pulled up beside a high school. Angelus would have looked at the place like a snack dispenser. I, on the other hand, was completely confused. Whistler told me to sit and wait.

That's when I saw her. Buffy Summers, queen bee of the school, ruling over her entourage and the rest of the student body with an expensively manicured fist. I saw as her first Watcher, Merrick, tried to inform her that she'd been Chosen, and I saw as she laughed in the man's face. She was the quintessential California girl, and that wasn't necessarily a complimentary title.

But there was something about her. I didn't understand it in the least, but in one moment, I understood the only thing that I needed to know to do what I was meant to do. Whistler had known it, and it happened just as the Powers That Be wanted.

I loved her. I'd do anything for her. I'd help her and protect her until the day I was dust.

And nothing's changed, not since that moment.

Angel
'Angel' the series
Word Count: 344

ROTM 1.40.2 - Write a ficlet on the word "surrender"

2007-01-04T18:14:02Z

1.40.2 - Write a ficlet on the word "surrender".

It was the longest elevator ride in recorded history.

Angel could still taste Cordy's kiss on his lips, still hear the echo of her voice in his ears. More than that, though, he could still feel the phone receiver against his ear as he listened to the nurse on the other end tell him how his best friend had passed quietly away, never having woken from her months-long coma.

He wasn't entirely sure to whom he owed his own "thank you". Cordelia's brief, but afterlife-changing visit might have been the doing of the Powers That Be, or maybe somehow a result of the residual power from her part-demonic nature or her brush with Jasmine's presence. Whoever or whatever had done it, Angel was grateful.

Cordy, at least the one he'd come to know in L.A., had always been generous of spirit, if not in fact. This time though, she had come bearing gifts. One gift, to be specific, for him. She gave him his destiny back.

Angel had, he realized as the elevator crawled painfully slowly down to the street level lobby where his friends were waiting, very truly and simply given up. After Connor and Jasmine and the Beast and Holtz and everything that had weighed down his shoulders over the past few years, Angel had lost sight of the reason he survived and endured those things and had let the weight of them drag him under.

It was hopeless, his subconscious had convinced him. No matter how hard he tried, how valiantly he fought, how many bad guys he dusted or put down, it would never be enough. He would never win. And he would never achieve the goal, never get the prize. Shanshu. Life.

So even while he went through the motions of being Angel, he surrendered to the feelings of futility. He let them all be drawn into Wolfram & Hart. He stepped aside and compromised when he should have stood his ground and demanded what was right. Spike beat him to a make-believe reward not because the younger vampire was stronger or more skilled, but because he'd wanted it more. Not that Angel would ever admit it to anyone, but looking back on that moment, he knew that Spike had deserved it more. Then.

Cordy came back to remind him of the why, and it had nothing to do with prizes or prophecies and it didn't have a damn thing to do with Shanshu or becoming human. They fought because they could. They were Champions because someone had to be and fate had chosen them. At the same time, they had chosen that fate. It wasn't about the win, it was about the fight.

The elevator reached the ground floor and Angel found himself smiling. In the end, he knew, they probably wouldn't win, wouldn't even really change things. But they could make a difference, if just for a moment.

And that was enough.

Angel
'Angel' the series
Word Count: 491

ROTM 1.38.1 - Write about a memorable shopping trip

2006-12-19T19:12:12Z

1.38.1 - Write about a memorable shopping trip.

I was in the doghouse in a really, really big way. And it's not that I didn't understand why. I'd done just about everything a person could do to his friends and not actually be the murdering psychopathic alter ego.

I had turned my back on them, ignoring their advice and concern, fired them and abandoned them, all to pursue something I thought was mine to do alone. Naturally, it took hitting bottom just like anyone else with that serious a problem to understand that I needed help and that I needed my friends back in my life.

They were reinstated at Angel Investigations. I even made Wesley the boss, making sure that everyone understood that I was working for and with them, not the other way around. Wes and Gunn came to understand the obsession I had developed with Darla, and just how badly I regretted what I'd done because of it. But Cordelia's cold shoulder just wouldn't go away.

Wesley suggested that I talk to her, explain to her again and apologize as profusely as I could. He said that I needed to give her time and space, and let her deal with the situation in her own way. Cordy's healing and acceptance couldn't be rushed or forced, and I just needed to be okay with that if I wanted to be her friend again.

So I did what any guy would do.

I spent a bunch of money on clothes for her.

Without going into it too much, I've always had a good eye for proportions and measurements-- every now and then, I've got a little artistic side that comes out-- and so it was a pretty easy task to guess at Cordy's sizes. After that, all I had to do was head down to one of her favorite malls (the Glendale Galleria) head into a couple of likely-looking stores, find a nice salesgirl and set her loose.

Honestly, I never thought I'd spend so much cash on so little fabric, but it turned out to be more than worth it. Cordy's face lit up like a Christmas tree, and there wasn't a doubt in either of our minds that I was free and clear, and things were right back to where we wanted them. So there's the lesson, fellas. You can't go wrong with gifts, especially not a great big pile of fancy new clothes.

Angel
'Angel' the series
Word Count: 403

ROTM 1.36.2 - Who are the five most beautiful people you know?

2006-12-06T17:46:44Z

1.36.2 - Who are the five most beautiful people you know? What makes them that way?

I tried more than once to write out this list in a way that would make everybody happy. Nothing worked, so I guess I'm going to have to start out with a disclaimer. If your name appears on the following list, I can pretty much guarantee you that at least one other name on it is going to piss you off. I apologize for that, but I'm going to just answer the thing truthfully.

After that, I know I'm going to hear it, but that's nothing new.

So, in no particular order, the five most beautiful people I know:

Buffy Summers. Nobody who knows me would ever imagine that this list wouldn't begin with Buffy, and if it were limited to just women, she would probably end it, too. We have loves in our lives, and we have Loves in our lives, and Buffy is that second. Past the fact that she is a fantastically beautiful young woman, I'm not sure she realizes just how amazingly beautiful her spirit is. I knew from the first second I saw her that I was in love, and that's never wavered. Stronger, better and more than a hero to me, she'll never not be a part of me.

Cordelia Chase. If letters on a screen could catfight, they'd be doing it right now, I know, but this is the way it is. I have two best friends, and both of them are gone now. Cordelia was the one that had the ability to make me forget that I was dead. She was more vibrantly alive than anyone I've ever met, and even in the (admittedly) shallowest and most superficial of pursuits, she refused to be anyone other than who she was. I watched her become someone noble, and I'll miss her forever.

Winifred Burkle. Maybe "beautiful" wouldn't be the first word to come to mind during our initial meeting, but it's certainly come to be part of the description ever since then. Again, even though I'm a very lucky man to constantly be in the company of such attractive women, that's never the thing that really makes them beautiful to me. Fred was brilliant and inventive and (I'm sorry for the obvious cliché) a heart as big as her native Texas, and there was a light inside of her that I thought would never go out. I wish I had been right.

Gwen Raiden. Even though she's a good person inside, she can still be a royal pain in the ass. But cripes, she looks good in leather and vinyl.

Hey, I'm dead. Not dead.

And lastly...

Connor Reilly. I said the list wasn't only women. The young man that Connor's become is, without a doubt, the one finest thing I have or will ever have the honor of seeing. He's got courage and conviction, and a sense of right and wrong that would make any father, let alone someone who does what I do and fights the fight that I do, proud enough to burst. And now that he has a family and a real life, the humor and happiness he's gained makes me glad again and again that I made the decision I did. But when I'm alone and I think of Connor, I have to admit that it's the infant son I held in that rain-soaked alleyway that comes to mind. I remember him as a little pink bundle of beautiful humanity, the one thing that I've given back to the world.

Angel
'Angel' the series
Word Count: 591

ROTM 1.35.3 - "Everything really went wrong when..."

2006-11-30T18:37:18Z

1.35.3 - Write a ficlet that starts with the sentence: "Everything really went wrong when...".

Everything really went wrong when I got back to L.A., and for some reason, Wesley was wearing my coat.

It's not that I'm not a person who can share his things, or even that Wesley looked all that bad in it. Sure, he couldn't quite fill it out, especially through the shoulders, but it wasn't a terrible look. Besides, he hadn't asked, which would have made things just fine. He just took one of my long black coats without permission, and all of a sudden, he was in charge of things.

I just wanted my coat back.

There were... problems. At the time, I'd thought that they were all in my head. For the week or two previous, I'd been dreaming and thinking almost non-stop about Darla. It was starting to be trouble, so naturally, I went to Lorne for help. It was bad enough that I was willing to sing. He didn't ask me to. Instead, he gave me the address of a swami who would help me out.

The twist-- because there's always a twist with these stories, right?-- was that the real T'ish Magev was dead, and the square-jawed knuckle-dragger I ended up talking to was just some bruiser whose job was to keep me busy and maybe, his boss hoped, dust me. Easier said than done.

I've never thought about catching a guy on the end of a fishing line, but damn if it wasn't just a little gratifying after actually sharing some of my troubles with the imposter swami.

I get back from Ojai and the would-be swami to find that everything had gone to hell. Someone had come to the agency looking for me to protect a girl named Virginia from the guy who hired the fake swami to keep me from doing just that, and when Virginia's father insisted, Wesley pretended to be me to keep Cordelia from being shot. Unfortunately, what this Virginia really needed protection from was her own father, who was going to sacrifice her to a demon, but he ended up being screwed since... well... Virginia had been, and he needed a virgin.

But during this whole thing, Wesley was walking around, taking off his glasses, ordering people around and talking in this lower, rougher, more confident voice. It was weird to take his cue back then, before we actually put him in charge. And me, I was just trying to keep up with who all the players were and why, as me, Wesley had felt it important to have sex with Virginia.

Really, though, what I wanted was my coat back.

Angel
'Angel' the series
Word Count: 439

ROTM 1.33.1 - Bring me the sunset in a cup

2006-11-17T07:56:16Z

1.33.1 - Bring me the sunset in a cup. (Emily Dickenson)

Sunset in a cup, sunrise in a teapot, afternoon in a Tupperware container... whatever. How and when doesn't matter. But if you could bring me a little of that sunlight, somehow, I'm pretty sure you don't know just how grateful I would be.

One of the many unfunny ironies about the whole vampire thing is that I wasn't even a day person when I was human. It's not like I was the kind of person who adored being out-of-doors, basking in the sunlight while riding my horse or hiking over the hills. Pretty much from the age of fifteen, I didn't roll out of bed before noon if I could help it. Sunlight usually meant headaches and hangovers. Sometimes it meant whatever backbreaking labor my father could devise for me to do as his idea of penance for whatever sins I'd committed the night before.

No, I was a night person. Drinking, carousing, wenching-- and man, that's a word that just doesn't get used enough anymore-- those were nighttime activities. Things that would take you into the wee hours, and you'd never notice until that damned sun started peeping over the horizon.

Of course, there's that thing about the grass and being green.

I've managed to get a look at the sun a couple of times in the last few years, and let me tell you, after two hundred forty years of being denied it, I doubt there could be many things more beautiful.

Bright, blazing sunlight out of a pure blue sky, shining down on an endless stretch of Southern California beach. So worth it.

Angel
'Angel' the series
Word Count: 271

ROTM 1.32.2 - One Day Pass

2006-11-09T07:33:11Z

1.32.2 - For one day, you get a free pass to do anything you want to one person. They will not remember it tomorrow, and whatever you do will wear off in 24 hours. Who? And what?

((locked from Buffy))

I, uh, kind of already know how this situation would work out, so can I be excused from this?

Hmpf. Okay, then.

((unlocked))

I'm not exactly sure if it counts as "doing something" to someone, but if I had twenty-four hours to do anything that would be taken back later, I know exactly what it would be.

I'd be Connor's Dad for a day.

Yeah, I'm already his father, biologically, and he's aware of that now, and we've gotten into this really bizarre kind of understanding about that whole situation. But I don't mean that I'd want to be Angel, the souled vampire who somehow fathered a child that ended up being a super-powered demon hunter.

No, I'd want to be a guy with a teenaged son that he loves dearly, who loves him back with respect and affection, but with just enough healthy adolescent rebellion thrown into the mix. I'm sure there are plenty of things for a couple of normal, not-at-all-preternaturally-strong fellas to do in Los Angeles, especially in the daylight.

I hear miniature golf is fun. And even though the beach itself might not be quite right for an eighteen year-old guy, I'd bet we could have plenty of laughs walking around Santa Monica or Malibu, doing some girl-watching. Or bowling. Bowling is supposed to be good, too, plus you can drink while you do it.

Yes, I'd buy the kid a beer. One beer. I'd be a cool dad.

And then, he'd forget all about it, and if I was lucky, I would, too. Knowing what you had and had taken away is a hell of a lot worse than never having, trust me.

Angel
'Angel' the series
Word Count: 283

ROTM 1.31.3 - Innocent

2006-11-03T21:20:40Z

1.31.3 - Who's the most innocent person you know?

Ask me this question at different times in my very long life, and I would give you a different answer with each. But the names don't change just because time passes and I meet new and different people. They change because innocence never lasts. It gets lost, or more often gets taken away, and cruelly. Violently.

Connor was an innocent. He was the truest kind of innocent: a baby. A beautiful, living, breathing, brand-new person. It was like he represented unending potential-- potential to live a good, simple and happy life, as untouched by the evils of the world as I could manage to make it. And he also meant the chance for me to really atone for the horrible things that I'd done, by protecting a new life to make up for my evil un-life.

But the world had other plans, and an innocent baby grew to an angry, bitter and confused young man. I've seen the life that Connor should have had-- would have had, if I hadn't been his father-- and all I could do was pray that he stayed that way. He didn't, of course, and even that false innocence was ripped away.

Fred was a kind of innocent, years ago, at least in that she was just like anyone else, going through all the good and bad of the only world that nine out of ten people on this planet will ever experience. No matter what someone's seen or done, until they cross that line and learn what really is out there going bump in the night, they still have an innocence that can be lost.

And then the portal, and Pylea. And then the slaver demons and the caves. We got her out of it, and it wasn't all that long before she was herself again, but you can't un-learn things like that, no matter how much you might want to. There was no turning back. There never is.

Drusilla was an angel on earth, sweet and loving and very, very special. And even though with her visions, she was touched by something more than normal already, she wasn't prepared for the evil that would touch her next. There was nothing that could prepare her for Angelus.

I couldn't just kill her. I couldn't just destroy her and those she loved. Cruelty was art, and I was Michelangelo. Drusilla was my Sistine Chapel. Before I was done, she was broken and twisted, driven completely insane by the evil I did around her. And then I turned her.

I don't have a new "most innocent person" yet. But when I meet him or her, all I know for sure is that it won't last long. It never does.

Angel
'Angel' the series
Word Count: 455

Of all the gin joints... ((RP for _wiccabuffy_))

2006-10-30T23:13:14Z

As he raised the glass up to his lips, Angel realized that in a lot of ways, things had started off for him in pretty much this same way: sitting at a bar, hoisting a beer up for a drink. Way way back, the tankard had been made out of metal, the beer was thick and dark, and he was a young human who was enjoying life being led around by, well, anything other than his brains. He had been carousing up a storm when he'd happened on Darla-- or she had happened on him; he'd never been able to get her to commit to a version of the story-- and everything after that was history.

Two hundred twenty or so years after that, he remembered, he was sitting in a bar a lot less glitzy and fashionable as the one he was sitting in now. It was his second or third week in L.A. after leaving Sunnydale, and he'd already dusted two vampires before saving the girl that night, and would go on to take out two or three more afterwards. It was the first night, though, he really felt that he was getting into the rhythm of how things would work in his new, Buffy-free life. Of course, he was completely wrong, but that was par for the course.

Now, things had come to a strange full circle. Angel was sitting in a bar, nursing a cold beer, and waiting on a girl. But this time, he wasn't out to get drunk, nor was the girl going to be any kind of victim. No, tonight, he was at some trendy Hollywood watering hole, expecting Buffy Summers herself to come walking up at any minute. He'd suggested his own apartment a lot closer to downtown, but Buffy's request for more neutral ground had won him over.

The bartender gave him a nod. "Only a woman puts that kind of thoughtful look on a guy's face," he said.

Angel chuckled and nodded back. "You better believe it," he answered, and settled in to wait.

ROTM 1.30.2 - "And in my hour of darkness..."

2006-10-27T06:18:08Z

1.30.2 - "And in my hour of darkness / She is standing right in front of me"

It's not as though he's thinking. At least, not in the "talking to himself" way, the "thoughts following logic and straight lines" kind of way. He's operating on almost pure instinct, now, so much more animal than man. And considering that in many people's estimations, he was only half-man before he'd left and that the other half was demon, what was left wasn't pretty.

If he could see himself-- that is, if the rational, thinking, standing on two feet and wearing more than a pair of pants version of him could see himself-- there'd be no doubt he'd be disgusted. He's turned into the one thing he's always feared, even more than Angelus. Despite the infinite capacity for evil and cruelty, Angelus at least walked and talked like a man. This wasn't a man, or even a vampire, really. This was an animal, driven by the basest of drives, nothing more than fleeting impressions and images in its mind.

This is abandonment to the growling, snarling, hunger that didn't think, didn't reason. This is total loss of control. And he would hate it.

He seeks her out because her scent is familiar. Somewhere, it remembers the gold hair and the soft skin belying the power beneath it.

He attacks her because it also remembers pain. The torment and the pain and all the things that never seemed to end. Very, very deep, something in him connects all that to her, too.

The chains anger him. Her fear of him infuriates him.

But when he knows freedom again, and finds her again, there is no question. There is no hesitation when his instincts compel him to help her. Something is attacking her, bent on hurting her, and he knows in whatever way the animal can know, that he cannot allow that to happen. The chains become a weapon, but it his own bare hands that kill his prey, as befitting the animal.

Calm settles in. Breathing slows, and his heartbeat quiets. He sees her again, and something more than instinct flickers through his mind. Something fights its way through the fog of the animal thoughts, even as his mouth struggles to form the familiar noise.

"Buffy?"

The sound of his own voice in his ears begins to trigger more thoughts, more sparks of more-than-animal, and they warm him. He knows her again, and drops to his knees, wrapping bare arms around her legs, desperate to hold her in his thoughts and in the real and solid world.

"Buffy..."

He holds on, and with her as both anchor and beacon, he begins to become himself again.

Angel
'Angel' the series
Word Count: 434

ROTM - 1.29.2 Are You a Freak?

2006-10-15T08:20:27Z

1.29.2 - Are you a freak?

I really, really wish I hadn't looked before I posted this response, because then I would be able to honestly insist that no, I did not see Buffy's answer to this question before posting my own. Because I know there's going to be somebody crawling out of the woodwork to point a finger at me and claim cheating, or even copyright infringement. (I know this. Remember, I used to run a law firm.)

And you know, I could really easily have scratched all this and talked about being a vampire, and how that sets me apart from humanity and casts me as a killer, a predator, and the rest of the world as prey. But frankly, I think the world has had enough of broody vampires airing their grievances in print, real and fictional. (Yes, I'm looking at you, Ms. Rice.)

Plus, I'm not a freak in, y'now, that manner of speaking.

But there was a time when I, too, was the only one of my kind, even among a people like mine who live scattered and hidden among the masses.

I was a vampire, with a soul.

Well, okay, I still am one. The thing is that back then, I was the only one. Ever. Even knowing it was a Kalderash Gypsy curse, there was nothing anyone I knew could do to reverse it or duplicate it.

A vampire-- a creature of the night created by combining demon and human bodies, both sides occupying the same space. But the demonic nature robs the victim of soul and morality. Having a soul brings conscience, the ability to know right from wrong and the responsibility to choose. Having a soul doesn't guarantee being good, but not having one guarantees the opposite.

I got cursed, lived with it a hundred years, dedicated the rest of my unlife to making up for what I'd done before. Yada, yada, yada.

And then comes in Spike, who in his infinite ability to screw himself over, got himself a soul, too. Now not only am I no longer the only one on the block, I have to share the title with that jackass. Swell.

Angel
'Angel' the Series
Word count: 364

ROTM 1.28.1 - Evil Twin

2006-10-10T00:30:39Z

1.28.1 - While at the grocery store you bump into an oddly familiar face--it's your evil twin! The evil twin follows you home and tries to convince your family (or friends) that he/she's you. How did you prove to your loved ones that you are the real you and the twin is an imposter?

Actually, it's not that difficult to tell the difference between me and my evil twin. I mean, besides the "evil" part.

I, for example, wouldn't ever wear a pair of leather pants, but he apparently just loves them. And don't for a second believe any of those people I know who say that he dresses better than I do. He can't see into a mirror any more than I can, and again, I point out the whole leather pants thing.

Secondly, and at least in my opinion, more importantly, I'm not a psychotic monster hell-bent on causing as much death and destruction around me as possible, all while taking a perverse pleasure in seeing just how cruel and diabolical I could possibly manage to be. Really, I've only got the monster part in common.

He can try to walk like me, talk like me, and has succeeded every now and then, in making people think for a few seconds that he really was me, but no one around him would ever have bought his version of me for very long. Unfortunately, the people who did aren't around anymore to regret the mistake.

He's as bad a guy as bad guys can get-- brilliant and creative in his evil. Me, the only thing I ever aspire to making brilliant and creative are the one-liners I toss off to any of those random vampires I dust in the street. That, and coming up with the best dig at Spike.

Yeah, Angelus may not have the nice, convenient "evil twin" facial hair-- and I have to thank Gunn for that particular pop culture reference, since I always preferred watching "Gunsmoke" in those days-- there's really no getting us mixed up.

Nope, no chance.

Angel
'Angel' the Series
Word Count: 298

ROTM - 1.23.2 - Argument ((ROTM Application))

2006-10-05T23:18:52Z

1.23.2 - "You're engaged in an argument with a person who is either too stupid, too stubborn or too rigid to see your side. How do you win?"

This happens entirely too often for my comfort. I don't know what it is about being on the right side of the fight, being one of the "good guys" that seems to make so many of the people I deal with so damn stubborn. I suppose it has something to do with feeling righteous since, I guess, if you're going to be fighting the good fight, you sort of are.

Everybody seems to know just how to do something; what they really mean, though, is that they know how they want it done. It doesn't matter what anybody else's opinion might be, since they're the "good guy", then they must be right. And before I see any fingers pointing my way, I'd like to remind people that I'm usually right about things. Usually.

But, when it comes to stubborn, stupid and rigid, there's one person who really takes the cake, and manages to do it no matter which side of the fight he's on: Spike. The word "stubborn" actually doesn't even start to cover what he's like. There's no reasoning with Spike, no discussion at all. Once he's got an opinion in that bleached-out head of his, nothing's going to dig it out short of a battle axe.

Believe me, I've tried.

You know, in the bad old days.

I have to confess, though, that I encourage him. Maybe it's the history, maybe it's that damn parent-child/sibling dynamic that makes vampire interaction into one never-ending soap opera, but when he gets my hackles up, I'm in that argument to stay. We've gone on for hours about the stupidest things in the world: movies, travel, wine... hell, we spent two days at each other's throats over my choice in jacket color!

As if he'd ever know anything about dressing. Look at him.

Anyway, arguments with Spike usually end up one of two ways: we either beat the crap out of each other, or we get so frustrated that we just drop the whole thing. No, I'm sure Dr. Phil would look down on it, but it works, and he gets the hell out of my hair for a little while, and that little bit of blessed peace is worth it.

Angel (Liam) - Trapped Souls - Hangover

2006-09-19T16:44:38Z

"If you'll go courting trouble, you're sure to find it!"

Father's last words to him. Liam hadn't ever once intended to listen to a damn word the old man ever said, and definitely never wanted to believe any of them, either. Of course, just like he told his father, he'd heard every one and 'lived down' to them all-- to every disappointment, every expectation of failure and weakness.

Certainly if a man's father had no faith in him, why should a man have any damn faith in himself?

Well, you daft old fool, Liam thought as he groggily began to clamber up to his feet, looks like you were right again.

A pretty face, a pretty head of golden yellow curls, and a pretty plump bosom rising over a tight rich woman's bodice, and he'd followed the lot into that alleyway. There wasn't much Liam remembered about the woman, but then again, as far into his cups as he'd been, there wasn't much Liam would be able to recall. She'd promised him something that had sounded like heaven, and then done... something... that had hurt like the Devil himself.

Liam's hand went to his throat, remembering the sudden pain, but found his skin unmarked.

He looked around, worry rising. It wasn't the alley. Liam had woken leaning against the fence of a small graveyard. It was a humble handful of plots, but the stones were well-crafted, and just on the other side of the yard was a small, weathered church.

"Ah, hell," he spit, figuring that his father had dragged him off from the alley and dropped him here to teach him a lesson. Instead of doing as expected, he instead turned in the direction of the other nearby buildings and began looking for someplace to get a little ale.

Angel - RF - Where do you go to be alone?

2006-04-05T18:31:40Z

I'm going to avoid the whole metaphorical "I'm always alone" stuff, since even though I may think that way most of the time, getting that philosophical about my unique circumstances isn't my favorite thing in the world. And after a couple of years out here, I've come to realize that it isn't actually true.

The answer's really pretty simple: I head for the dark.

Yeah, it's easy to talk about how that's pretty much my natural habitat, being a vampire and all, but that's different. Dark to a vampire means freedom from the sunlight that turns us to ash. It means cover out of which we can strike at prey. And I guess in that damn metaphorical sense, it's home to the evil part, the demon part of us that craves blood and violence.

For me, though, darkness is more like a curtain, I guess. It's what I use to cut me off from people around me. When I've "got a good brood going" like Cordy would probably have put it, the retreat I prefer is my office, with the blinds shut tight, the door locked and all the lights out. Hell, I've even done it a couple of times here at Wolfram & Hart, though with an office twice as big as the old Angel Investigations, it's a little tougher.

Too many glass walls, too. Hmpf. Maybe I should look into changing that.

Angelus - Nowhere Land - Dinner conversation

2006-03-13T20:40:52Z

The one good thing about getting beat up when you're a vampire is that you can pretty much just literally "walk it off". We heal up pretty damn quick unless we've had a limb cut off or something, and it's even faster if we get some blood into us while we're mending. It was nice to find that little house on the Pylean prairie just a mile or two from where I'd thrown down with Xander Harris v2.0, and even better to find that it was a human house.

So, with the sun starting to dip down, I was feeling pretty hale and hearty, even if I still didn't know what the hell to do about getting my ass back to Earth.

Not that I'd admit it to anyone, but things were looking pretty bleak for the bad guys. I had no idea where the fuck Faith was, whether she'd gotten sent here with the rest of the gang, or if she was left back in L.A., where she was probably having the time of her life right now. I was still on The First's leash, and knowing what I knew about Pylea, I didn't figure that was any different here.

And Spike, he was...

He was walking right toward me.

I spotted him coming over the hill, probably attracted by the scent of human blood on the air, coming from my little dinner party. One of the mewling former "cows" was still whimpering on the ground where I'd left him, and I figured I'd be a good sire for five minutes and leave the snack for Spike.

As usual, he was looking insufferably smug about something. I glanced over at the prone human.

"Stay, have a bite, and tell me where the fuck you've been."

((Open to Spike))

Angel - Righteous Destruction - Working it out

2006-02-16T17:04:45Z

Was it wrong that I needed to go out and bust a few heads? Even after the talk I'd had with Fred, even after sitting in the dark and trying to push it out of my mind or at least into someplace where I could deal with it, I couldn't let the idea of Wes' standing on the other side of the line go.

The thing that was really getting to me was that I was getting less and less sad about the idea. Not that I was the man's biggest fan a few hours ago, not after everything he'd done. But there used to be a kind of pity for what he'd gone through that went right next to the anger. The feeling sorry was fading fast, though, and all it was leaving was the knowledge that there was a new player in town wearing a black hat, and I used to know him.

Wes had said he was going to find Cordelia, and I had to admit that got under my skin, too. It was clear to me he didn't give a damn about any of us anymore, so how was I supposed to believe he cared about Cordelia? I sent a quiet thought out to wherever she'd gone, apologizing for not being able to find her and help her just yet. But I would. I just didn't know how.

Still, I couldn't just sit around and brood, not like usual. Something about having gotten that close to the Axis of Pythia and having it stolen upped the frustration to where I couldn't keep it in anymore. I had to get out. So that's why I was drifting around downtown, looking for trouble.

By the time two or three hours had passed, I had at least a half dozen vampires' worth of dust on my coat sleeves and the imprints of a couple more human troublemakers on my knuckles. It was as I was running around a corner, chasing down one more that I discovered I wasn't the only one who'd needed to hit something.

"Couldn't stay in tonight either, Gunn?"

((Open to Gunn))

Angelus - Nowhere Land - Trap

2005-11-09T22:06:30Z

Walking around in the sunshine was a nice novelty, but it was getting pretty damn old pretty damn quick. I still didn't know what the hell I was going to do next and how I was going to get back to my own plane of existence, and I definitely had not idea how I was going to get a goddamn meal without sprouting horns all over my face.

The good guys, on the other hand, seemed to be acclimating to the new situation like a bunch of girl scouts, and that didn't improve my mood much, either.

If it had been me and not Angel in the driver's seat the last time they'd come through this dimension, things would be a snap. I'd just head into town, find the first red-robe I could and demand to be taken to whatever muckity-muck could get me in touch with the Wolf, Ram or Hart's representative, and since I was the right hand vamp for their boss, I'd get fedex'ed straight ack to earth. But now, thanks to the Angel Investigations losers, the bad folks weren't the ones in charge anymore.

As if I couldn't hate Angel any more.

I'd found the caves, and at some point, Spike was going to be heading back, looking for someone to pay atttention to him again. I needed a plan. Or at least something to do.

Hell answered my prayers, when who should I have seen coming over a rise but mister boy hostage himself, Xander Harris? I caught his scent, which seemed a little off, but then we were in another dimension. Then, I found myself a nice little stand of trees to hide myself in, and I waited. There was no bullshit Sanctuary spell this time, I thought.

When he finally came into view, I sprang out of the cover.

((Open to Xander))

Angel - Daylight Fading - Shamus, Gumshoe, Sherlock, P.I.

2005-11-02T00:24:59Z

Canvassing. That's the police term for it. What really boils down to is knocking on doors and asking people questions about what they know or have heard or seen and if they know anyone who might know or have heard or seen something that could be useful. It involves a lot of footwork (okay, back in L.A., it involved a lot of driving around or going apartment door to apartment door), is repetitive, tedious and very often not of a lot of help.

Of course, when you're the LAPD and you can send out twenty patrolmen into a neighborhood to do the canvassing, it's not a problem. When you're the lone vampire detective in the city, things get a little more daunting. It was my least favorite part of the investigations business, and even though I was thousands of miles away from L.A., I was right back to it.

I'd gotten the particulars, as far as Buffy knew them, en route to Abruzzi. A little reluctantly, I split up our group, but since I figured Spike was going to use his fists and not a whole lot of sense to do his part of the job, it seemed like the best idea to do the soft-sell part myself.

A couple of hours in, and I hadn't gained a whole lot of ground, as far as information went. Most everyone knew what the newspapers and television reports had told them-- multiple murders, all confined to the region, every person found with what the medical examiners referred to as 'ligature marks consistent with asphyxiation by rope' on their necks.

Translation: they'd been strangled.

The big mystery surrounding the deaths, though, had to do with the circumstances. Detectives and forensic examiners didn't like to use the word 'impossible'. They preferred 'highly unlikely'.

I was looking for the pattern-- serial killers, natural or supernatural, are obsessed with the details of their murders, and the ritual of it was everything. That extended to the choice of victims, so all that was left was to figure out how to connect the dots. Unfortunately, after the first few stops, there wasn't much new news to add.

Until I got to the little old lady. Rule number one of detective work, I should have remembered, was talk to the neighborhood little old lady, because they usually know nine-tenths of everything going on. The problem was that once she got talking, the story came fast and furious, and my Italian just wasn't up to speed. I had to make do with snippets here and there, phrases I could understand, and hope I could piece together the story later by context.

I heard things like 'ghost' and 'revenge'... she mentioned seeing a dead girl walking down the street two days before. It sounded like a lot of local superstitions and folk tales, but there was never any reason in the world I worked in to completely ignore those things. Once she'd finished rambling, naturally, granny kicked me out.

As I left her place, I couldn't help but think about revenge. There were hundreds, maybe thousands of souls in the ether that would have every right to take their revenge on me, not to mention Darla, Drusilla and Spike. I didn't think any of us would ever make up for all of them, but it was enough, I hoped, to try.

Stepping out into the street, I turned in the direction of the hotel everyone was staying at in Abruzzi. Maybe if heads were put together, then some kind of sense could be made.

That's when I saw her. Black hair, face as pale as a vampires, but I knew immediately she wasn't one. She moved with a kind of floating gait that no one alive would be able to duplicate. When she turned a corner, I followed, only to find an empty street. Shaking my head, I turned back in the hotel's directiong and coaxed just a little more distance out of my aching feet.

Angelus - Nowhere Land - I Spy

2005-10-23T22:59:13Z

Mine and Lilah's forced cooperation lasted just about as long as anyone in their right mind would have expected-- something a little under fifteen minutes. The telepathic connection hadn't carried over to Pylea, and without The First as a convenient common enemy around to redirect our usual animosity, we were all but literally at each other's throats.

Lilah and I finally crested a rise. In one direction, she saw a settlement about a mile's trudge away. Opposite that, I saw figures moving, people close enough through my vamire's eyes for me to recognize humans. Before we could get into a fight-- that is, before I murdered her-- Lilah suggested the split-up. Muttering something about wanting at least something to sit on that was more comfortable than a grassy knoll.

Rolling my eyes at her back as she receded into the distance, I headed in the other direction, stopping every ten or twenty yards to keep from being noticed. It was when I was within a hundred feet that I finally managed to ID them, and the sight made my jaw drop.

Faith? What in every hell dimension there is, what the fuck was Faith doing walking around with Wesley? She was a bad guy, for Pete's sake, the one and only, evilest there is, Slayer-Vampire. Bad, mean, cruel and hungry... and making time with her old Watcher like they were strolling down the Santa Monica pier after a date.

I pointed my feet in another direction and started walking. If this kept up, not only would I not be wetting my whistle anytime, Buffy's people had just been handed the equivalent of a nuclear bomb to use on their ide of the fight. Swell.