The small group changed locations just before the break of dawn. Memories
much too fresh for them to bare. They moved temporarily to Giles
apartment, just for some time until night fell once again.
It was in the privacy of the bathroom that Doyle found Angel, brooding.
“How you doing?”
Doyle stepped back the moment he saw Angel’s face shift to that of the
demon so quickly. He’d expected him to be sad and blaming himself for this
tragic event, but never the anger that was coming off in waves from
the vampire.
“Why the hell do they send you a vision for us to be too late to help?” he asked through clenched teeth.
“I don’t.... I don’t know.... maybe we were too far....” Doyle stuttered, intimidated by this side of Angel.
“They’ve never sent us a vision where we were too late.... never....
why her...” he continued, not paying much attention to Doyle, voicing the
countless questions that plagued him.
“Angel, man, their was nothing you could do,” Doyle said, trying to calm him down.
“Why the fuck did they send it? Tell me? To show me how I failed her?
To show me I can’t help the ones that I care the most for?” he asked growing
madder then before.
“I don’t know..... I don’t know....” Doyle replied not having the answers he needed.
Angel sat back down, his face shifting back to human.
“We’ve never been wrong about a vision, Doyle” Angel said, guilt and rage mixing inside him.
“I know... I’m sorry Angel... only if it had come sooner then.....” Doyle offered.
“Once the night falls we’ll head out. I have to go out right now,” he interrupted, changing the subject quickly.
“There is that pesky sun thing.....”
“Not where I have to go.”
“When will you be back?”
“Before the sun sets. I shouldn’t be long.”
The vampire left the room and the apartment shortly after, heading to the only place he could think of to be alone.
* * * * * * * * * * *
The glare from the sun hit the windshield bothering her tired eyes.
The soft glow from the back seat had finally died down, allowing her some
peace
of mind. The light sounds of snores weakened her resolve a bit, but
she couldn’t stop.
She glanced over at the clock. It was only noon, an hour before she
could wake him to take over driving duties. She squinted at the sign ahead,
relived to see it this early in the day. They would make it there sooner
then she had expected. Contented, she zoomed past the welcome to New
Mexico sign, counting down the miles before they could stop.
* * * * * * * * * * *
Angel entered the dark apartment with the spare key he had hidden inside
the false wall socket. Nothing had seemed to have changed since he had
left. Except for the sweet smell that greeted him as he stepped inside.
The faint smell of jasmine grew stronger as he walked deeper into the
empty dark apartment. He reached for the light switch and filled the room
with
light as he tried to detect where the smell was coming from. He was
led to his old bedroom where crumbled sheets were in a hep in the middle
of the
bed. He reached for the satin red pillow and inhaled the sweet scent.
One that brought back pleasant sensations that he could not recall from
where.
He turned and inspected the room finding nothing out of the ordinary.
He left to check the apartment, but found nothing out of place.
He returned to the bedroom, trying to place the smell. He sat on the
bed and opened the nightstand drawer, wondering if something was left behind.
He checked the chest and other drawers around but found nothing.
Someone had been in his apartment recently, something that bothered
him, since only a select few knew about this place. This had become a secret
home for him in Sunnydale. It was a disclosed area that he had found
before he left for LA.
He sat down on the unmade bed frustrated. He slammed the drawer inside
of the oak cherry nightstand, then growled slightly as he heard the wood
break. He pulled it back out, the halves breaking apart and falling
to the floor.
“Great.”
Before he could kneel down and pick up the pieces, his cell phone rang,
annoying him more. He pulled the small Nokia phone out of the inside pocket
of his leather jacket, fumbling with the answer button a bit.
“What?” he answered, his eyes shifting down to the mess in front of him.
“We have a bit of a problem,” Doyle replied on the other end.
“What happened?”
“I’m not too sure yet. Meet us at the morgue in about twenty minutes. “
“The morgue?” Angel asked a bit surprised.
“We’ll meet you inside.”
Before Angel could reply, his eyes caught sight of a shiny small light among the broken pieces of wood.
“Twenty minutes,” he quickly replied then shut off his phone. He dropped
the cell on the bed and kneeled down, picking up the piece of wood. To
his
shock he found a silver key taped to the bottom. He pulled it off and
inspected it, wondering where it had come from.
He quickly stood and slipped the new item in his pant pocket. He could look into it later, he was needed at the morgue now.
* * * * * * * * * * *
“Are you sure?” Xander asked the coroner once more in disbelief.
“Positive, I was present. Look, I’m sorry for your loss, but there’s nothing that I can do. That’s all the information I can give you.”
Xander nodded and walked back to the group who were huddled together by reception.
“It’s true?” Buffy asked, her own pale face reflecting his.
“They were cremated this morning,” Xander replied lowly, unable to believe what was happening.
“How? I thought you said she didn’t have family here?” Giles asked confused.
“She doesn’t,” he answered.
“Then who asked for this?” Buffy asked.
“He said... he said he couldn’t tell me....” Xander answered.
“Then I will,” Angel said. “Cordelia, would you mind speaking to the coroner?”
Cordelia nodded and smoothed down her skirt, putting her best smile forth.
The group watched as Cordelia began to make small talk with middle aged
man, keeping his attention on her. Doyle followed Angel, entering the
office in the far corner, making sure not to be seen. The rest of the
group remained watching, ready in case they were needed.
Once safely inside Angel headed to the computer as Doyle moved the files on the desk.
“We need to find out who ordered them to be cremated,” Angel told him
as he switched from screen to screen, trying to find anything he could
on
the Rosenburg’s.
Doyle found only two files, one for a Sheila Rosenburg the other for her husband, Ira .
“There isn’t a file for Willow here....”
“She’s not on the computer either...... Sheila and Ira Rosenburg were
the only ones cremated this morning. It doesn’t mention Willow....Who would
ask.......”
“Sheila’s brother,” Doyle replied quickly.
“Who?”
“Franklin Cover. Here,” Doyle replied as he showed him the paper in the file.
“He ordered for them to be cremated and placed in an urn.”
Angel looked over the paper quickly.
“If Willow doesn’t have any relatives here, then how did Frank know about the fire so soon?” Doyle continued.
“That’s what doesn’t seem right. Someone had to have sent some kind of request for this. Look for a fax print out.”
Angel switched screens again finding what he was looking for. He printed out the page and went back to where the computer had been before.
“I can’t find it.”
“Take the file. We’ll look at it at Giles apartment.”
Both men left the office the same way they had entered, undetected.
The group left shortly after with the file, a printout and the coroners telephone number at hand.
* * * * * * * * * * *
“Who the hell is Franklin Cover?” Xander asked.
“We were hoping you knew,” Angel replied.
“Willow never mentioned him.”
“So this guy called this morning and asked that his sister and her husband be cremated?” Buffy asked still a bit shaken by the turn of events.
“That’s what the report says. A called was received this morning, asked
the coroner to inurn the bodies and hold the ashes. They received his written
request with Sheila Rosenburg’s birth certificate and did what he requested,”
Angel said, recapping what he had found in the file.
“This doesn’t make sense. Willow never mentioned she had an uncle. She
would have told me....” Xander spoke, his mind trying to recall any
information Willow had ever given him over the years.
“Didn’t she say her mother was a single child?” Buffy voiced, remembering a conversation she had had with Willow a long time ago.
“She did, so was her father,” Xander said a bit suspicious.
“Found something,” Doyle yelled out to them from behind the computer laptop.
The group moved over the laptop on the table, hoping to see what he had found.
“Franklin Cover?” Cordelia asked hopeful.
“No. A death certificate.”
“His?” Angel asked.
“Better. Sheila’s and Ira Rosenburg.”
“But we have them right here.....” Giles began to say.
“From 1952.”
* * * * * * * * * * *