~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
It had been a very long, very quiet, trip. Admittedly it would have gone faster had Angel not decided to teach her how to drive. . .
For the nth time in as many days he glanced at the girl. Watching her sleep reminded him ever more of that fact. She's just a child. It was hard to imagine her button nose, childishly pouty mouth and baby fat cheeks in anything other than a smile.
She wore a hard sullen expression most of the trip. Angel would learn it was a form of her non-look.
There was a soft crackling as they moved out of range of one radio station and into another. He listened with half an ear only concerned that what came on was soft, relaxing. Strangely the demon was silent as Angel played mother hen. Much as he tried he couldn't resist looking at her again.
Her deep breathing and even heartbeat filled the spaces between the music. Her eyes no longer fluttered behind their lids chasing a dream.
Angel drove for another hour and a half at nearly reckless speeds. All the good people of the world lay in bed sleeping, dreaming, wishing. He carried one away from hers.
The radio crackled as they passed out of range of yet another station. It did not automatically pick up another. Angel hit the Seek button.
". . .I gave away all my loose ends," came quietly over the radio. The words seemed to fill the car. "Somebody said you got to getaway. . .to wanna go back home again." It felt like the singer was there with them, "I left my universe standing there . . .holdin' the hand of my best friend. I had to learn that once," Christina spoke for the first time in hours.
Angel was taken aback. Neither her breathing nor heart rate had changed in any noticeable way. He gave her as long a look as he could spare. She was still curled in the reclined seat with her back to him. Angel recovered quickly. "Welcome to LA," his said, voice gruff from ill use.
The would-be Slayer turned and sat up, wiping sleep from her eyes.
"And I might be stupid enough," she sang along softly, "to wanna fall again . . .cuz I've gotten used to the crash and burn . . ."
Angel watched Christina go through her routine: first a right side kick then, pivoting, a left side kick finished with a back roundhouse. It had taken nearly half an hour to work up to this stage with the Slayer-in-training adding a move as she perfected the previous one. Each new step added difficulty to the routine. The first few goes at the roundhouse failed miserably as Christina disciplined herself in the tricky balance.
"Left cross," he called out. The routine of training had come easier. Christina threw herself into the work with cold clinical passion.
She finished the three kick maneuver and punched her imaginary opponent. Repositioning herself she began again, the left cross becoming part of the sequence. By the end of another half hour Angel had added a knee raise between the side kicks, a right back elbow after the left cross, a right uppercut following that and three rapid fire punches.
The training room was filled with the scent of Christina's sweat.
"Take a break."
Christina's shoulders sagged in relief. Tempting as it was to pour the contents of the water bottle on her head, she drank slowly. Angel never needed to teach her that lesson, childhood had already showed her the result of large quantities of cold water on a hot body. She didn't want to double over with stomach cramps.
The punching bag disappeared under Christina's smooth rhythm. A loud smack resounded throughout the training room. Christina buckled but did not fall. Hardly losing pace she kicked up the quarter staff at her feet and faced her opponent. "Morning, Keisha."
"Morning yourself slow poke. My grandmother has molasses quicker than you," the brown girl grinned.
The two young women circled, staffs in the defensive. "I don't think Gunn would appreciate being called molasses."
The girl's eyes widened. She attacked.
Christina deflected it easily.
They circled again.
"So," Keisha said in a voice that belied the tension, "what happened to you?"
Christina gave a light attack. The crack of the heavy staffs was sporadic. "What do you mean?"
"Well," thrust, deflect, poke, crack, "your hair." Thud, plunge, block, crack, "When was the last time you looked in a mirror girl?"
For a silent moment Christina froze in anger. Keisha wasn't sure whether or not it was genuine but used the opening to swing at her head.
The Slayer-to-be ducked.
"You, you," she stuttered, "fashionista!" Crack!
Though Keisha giggled they fought in earnest. Staffs cracked and whirred and sang in the midmorning air. Arms and legs moved with blinding speed; hands and feet struck with blind certainty. Sweat ran into their eyes, trickled down their spines, plastered their hair to their necks.
Yet they were eerily silent. Occasionally Christina would grin madly or Keisha's eyes would flash triumph. There had been a time when she summarily beat the Slayer in every match. The tide was turning. Every parley shuddered through their bodies; every contact made threatening to splinter wood; every landed hit eliciting a grimace of silent pain.
And as the violent dance wended its way across the floor the floor Angel watched from his perch in equally silent study.
As if by consensus the two stopped. Quarter staffs akimbo, chests heaving, heat coming from them in waves the women stared at each other. Christina let out a yell. Keisha released on of her own.
Here the fight turned outrageous.
Where there had once been deadly intent was pure flippery. Where there
had been shuddering force was stylized violence.
"So," the Slayer called running up a wall and flipping over her friend,
"how was your weekend?"
Using her quarter staff for counter balance Keisha kicked her friend in the stomach. "Perfect ten!"
"Ow, that hurt!"
"Shouldn't have landed so close."
Christina snorted. "Like you could have even cleared that jump." Instead of charging Keisha she did a series of Russian spins. "Whoa dizzy."
"But that was pretty cool." The girls locked staffs stuck in a stalemate.
They struggled -- one step forward, one back -- neither gaining or losing. "So," Christina went on, "dish. I want details."
Keisha grinned through the sweat and hair damp on her face. "Let's just say," she pushed Christina away, " 'I was struck down by his angel face'"
They laughed loud and long as Angel left the room.
"That was good." Christina nodded in agreement. "I'll see you downstairs later?"
"Yeah, yeah, just gotta beat up some dummies. Catch ya on the flipside Keish," she called watching her friend descend in the private elevator. Angel's training room was the very top floor of the Hyperion Arms, his hotel. In the years since renovation it had done well. Rent from boarders and tourists provided steady income between cases for Angel Investigations. Besides, he owned the hotel, he worked for the firm.
Her rooms were on the floor below. Though there were three apartments -- penthouse suites really -- she was the only "renter." Angel's suite was directly below hers: more apartments, not as grand. She'd asked him nice why he didn't rent the other two suites on her floor. His reply was always cryptic.
Halfway across the room and to a dry towel a surprised shriek tore from Christina's throat. There was a band of stone around her neck and a wall of iron behind her back. Mustering her worn reserves she elbowed him. She grabbed the arm at her neck, digging her nails deep and threw him. You'd think he'd learn to wear long sleeves, she thought.
Angel was on his feet again in moments. Christina dove between his spread legs reaching for the fallen staff behind him. Flipping onto her back, she swung at him missing his back as he turned. Instead she struck him in the ribs. "Good enough." He grunted, taking the brunt of the impact. Grabbing the staff he yanked her up on her feet. "Unholy crunchpod," she muttered.
For a moment they played tug of war over the stick. Without warning Christina let go, sending him flying. She sighed, at least now it was over. Angel stood and she realized it wasn't at all. "Argh! Evil. Can't we do this some other time?"
A right cross connected with her chin. "Ow! All right, not." This up close and personal stuff wasn't her preferred style of fighting, but if she had to. . .
Christina's knee connected with Angel's groin. While he was doubled over in pain she drove her elbow into his back. Angel fell to the floor. Grinning Christina stepped on his kidneys. Growling Angel yanked her left foot out from under her.
Hand to her head Christina moaned. "I didn't know heads bounced." Arms spread wide she felt her strength drain into the floor.
Angel knelt over her prone body. "Get up. Let's finish."
"I'm tired," she said rolling her eyes, "let's not."
"What are you going to do, Christina, when you've been working all day, fought vampires all night and one last demon decides to attack before sunrise?"
"I don't know, Angel," she said, exasperated, "but it certainly wouldn't be you," and worn out, "now would it?" Her head fell to one side.
She couldn't know the scent she gave off. Her sweet sweat was rich with complete surrender and utter defeat. And though he didn't need to, Angel breathed it in along with the unique smell that belong only to a Slayer. She couldn't know the compelling and seductive mixture she created. She couldn't know that blood feuds had been started between vampires over the promise -- the mere promise -- of what blood like hers would taste like. She couldn't know how his demon taunted and urged and, in the end, begged for her.
Angel morphed into game face. "Wouldn't I?"
Slay-sense suddenly jumping to red, Christina turned her head. With a grunt she managed to punch him squarely in the jaw before giving up again, panting for breath.
The vampire pushed off the floor disgusted with his pupil but more so with himself.
"Keish, Keisha, you gotta help me. You too Gunn."
"Me too what?"
There were two kitchens in the Hyperion, the one for guests and the one in the back. It was a part of the office, sitting room and anti-chambers also in the back. The old outdated servants quarters -- technically no longer a part of the property -- had been converted into Angel Investigations' headquarters.
Christina rushed over to the pair. "You have to help me."
"With what?" Keisha listened to the exchange over coffee.
"Making Angel laugh." Grandfather and -daughter sputtered and coughed over their respective breakfasts. "Look, we made a bet a while ago: if I can make him laugh then I can have a free Saturday."
Setting her mug down with a thud, Keisha stood. "I'm in."
"Now, hold on," the old man said, putting a hand out to stop the foolish girls, "how do you even know Angel will remember this promise? How long ago did you make it?" Christina shrugged. "Girl. . .do you know how grumpy that vamp is in the morning?"
"Unfortunately."
Gunn looked from his granddaughter to the not-quite-Chosen One. "Man, ya'll need my help."
"Thanks Grandpa," Keisha threw her arms around the man's neck.
"Yeah, I know you love me. So what was the plan?"
Keisha looked back at her friend. "What do you think, a song?"
"A silly one," Christina qualified.
"Perfect ten."
Gunn raise his hands in protest, "Hold up --" but the girls were too enthused by their idea.
"Oh, this is great, but we need a song."
"Well, cha."
"One with words silly."
"Double cha silly. That's why I asked Gunn --"
"Yes," he rolled his eyes, "I do exist people."
Christina smiled sheepishly, "Sorry Gunn."
"Sorry Grandpa," but though she apologized, Keisha grinned. "So what's on that gray mind of yours?"
Gunn stroked his graying goatee thoughtfully. "Something with words. Well, there goes music from the past two decades." The girls nodded following the old man into Angel investigation's sitting room. "Now what was that song . . .God knows I couldn't get it outta my head for months. Wasn't like I didn't try."
"All right already," Keisha grabbed her grandfather's arm, "what is it?"
"Well I don't know if its still here or not. I think she left it but, with Cordy, you never know. Keish, girl, lay off," he said pulling his arm out of her grasp. I know Marina taught you better than that."
Christina laughed at her friend's rebuke. "Okay, okay, so what is it? And who's Cordy?"
"Forget I mentioned her -- especially around Angel. Aight, we are looking for a disc. It's not a midi," he used the shorthand for mini-disc, "but its about yea big," and created the dimension with his hands, "and silver. Look for the words 'No Angel' on the disc."
"Jeez, that's massive," Keisha whispered to her friend.
"It might be in a case. The cover's black, I think. Hell, just look for the title!" Gunn didn't know how he got in these situations. "Found it."
Keish stared at it in horror. "What is that?"
"It's a compact disc," Christina answered. "My mom has some of those. I made her convert them to mini-disc."
"Compact how?"
"So what's on the menu Gunn?"
He tossed a small yellowing booklet at her. "How fast can you two learn a song?"
The girls shared a quick look. "Real fast."
"All right then, pick and choose."
The scanned the lyrics making comments to themselves while Gunn watched, bored. "Could ya'll make up your minds? The man won't sleep all day." Keisha frowned.
"Yay," Christina exclaimed, "this one is perfect."
"What is it?" Christina handed the booklet over. "Oh God, not that one."
"Why, what's wrong with it?"
"Nothin', it's perfect. Except that Angel'll probably blow his top instead of chuckle for ya, that's all."
Christina looked at him perplexed, "But if it's perfect --"
"Morning," yawn, "everyone."
Keisha elbowed her friend. "It's now or never," she whispered and pushed play.
"What is that?" Angel asked.
Tentatively Christina walked up to him and asked, "Angel can I have the day off?"
Yawn. "No. We have too much work to do."
"Please?"
"Let it go, Christi. It's not happening." He spared her half a glance looking for a coffee mug.
"Oh?"
He looked behind him. "Yes."
"Okay, then I just have to tell you If you gave me just one coin for every time we say good-bye --" she sang off key.
"What is this," Angel exclaimed.
"-- well I'd be rich beyond my dreams. I'm sorry for my weary life." Growling he told her to stop. Christina was beginning to enjoy herself. There was something about singing badly and taunting her teacher by dancing around him that was immensely pleasurable. She couldn't stop now.
"I know I'm not perfect but I --" at the off key high note Angel covered his more sensitive ears and Gunn left.
" -- behind my tired eyes. If you tell me that I can't I will, I will, I'll try all night." Keisha joining in the horrendous performance. "And if I say I'm comin' home I'll probably be out all night. I know I can be afraid but I'm alive and I hope that you trust this heart behind my tired eyes." Both girls looked up at Angel with their best puppy dog stare but couldn't keep it up long. They were caught up in the childishness of the moment and descended into giggles.
"I'm no Angel," they pointed to the irate vampire, "but please don't think that I won't try and try."
"To make him laugh?" Keisha asked.
Christina rolled her eyes.
"I'm no Angel, but does that mean that I can't live that life. I'm no Angel," they suddenly simultaneously dropped into harmony, "but does that mean that I can't fly?"
Christina pulled on her friend's hand tugging her away from the vampire. When she noticed Angel making his escape she pulled Keisha into his path. Dancing together, they whispered during the instrumental. Keisha looked up, her eyes asking if the girl had lost her natural mind. Christina nodded yes.
"I know I'm not around each night --" Christina began, singing in earnest this time.
"-- and I know I always think I'm right," Keish added.
"I can believe that you might look around."
Keisha snorted, "For a new Slayer." Christina hit her.
Before he realized what they were doing the girls had Angel surrounded. Christina threw her arms around the scowling vampire and Keisha her hands on his hips. "Wha- what?" he sputtered.
"--but does that mean that I won't try and try?" they sang and suddenly Angel's body -- with a little help -- was moving in tandem with Christina's. Shocked he didn't resist, instead his mind took him back to a similar scene that played decades ago.
The girls' voices were replaced by the high one of a tall streaked brunette. Christina's muscled cinnamon arms became long toned pale ones. Keisha's hands disappeared utterly and the brown eyes boring into him were as chocolate as his own. "--but does that mean that I can't fly?" The memory of Cordelia Chase sang with more passion than skill.
"Well, well, what do we have here, an Oreo cookie?"
Angel's surreal moment was broken. There was a sudden silence as all motion stopped and the disc paused between songs. He could see Christina's eyes wide with shock and prepared himself for the worst.
The brown-skinned girls erupted in good-natured laughter as quickly as they had descended into surprised silence. Angel couldn't help joining them. "Oh my --" Keish had trouble finishing. She ran over to the elderly Watcher Emeritus. "Uncle Wes, I didn't know you had it in you!"
Christina followed. "You cracked on us. You really cracked on us. And with such good timing!" Impetuously she hugged the old man. "I'm so proud of you."
"I gotta tell Grandpa about this."
Wesley raised his hands in protest. "I'm so . . .glad you're, um, proud of me. I suppose after years of being the butt of everyone else's jokes its time I got in some of my own."
"And Angel laughed," Keisha reminded Christina.
She turned to the vampire. "Yay," she crowed running back to her mentor. "Then I can have the day off, right? Please say yes. Please, please."
Gently Angel pried the girl off his person. "Technically it was Wesley who made me laugh."
"Yes," the ex-Watcher interjected, "but I would not have made the remark at all if not for your student."
Eyes full of hope the Slayer-to-be turned to Angel. "Please," she mouthed. He gave her his best I-am-not-amused face. For a long moment they had a staring contest before Angel conceded. "All right, you've got the day off."
With a shout of joy she threw her arms around Angel gave him a quick kiss. Just as quickly she bounded towards Wesley and gave him a similar kiss. Laughing and eyes sparkling she grabbed her bag from behind the kitchen island.
"What about breakfast?" Keisha called after her.
"Ill grab some on the way to the pier," and she was gone through the
connector to the hotel proper and the outside world.
Dragging his hand down his face Angel let out a long sigh. It didn't matter what her birth certificate said, he was convinced that nine times out of ten she was twelve and not seventeen years old. Looking down into his coffee mug Angel realized not only had he not had his morning cup but it was lukewarm.
"Angel?"
"Yes, Wesley," he replied suddenly tired.
"Where was Ms. Singletary going?"
Angel thought a moment. "I have no clue. Keisha," he called. The girl stuck her head back into the kitchen. "Where was Christi going?"
She shrugged. "Why should I know?"
"You were helping her," he pointed out.
"Yeah so. I did it 'cause it sounded fun an' it was. Later dayz old folks," and she was gone.
* Now Angel was convinced: twelve, the girl was definitely twelve.
Three hours later Christina was back. "Hey all. Or just Angel. Where is everyone?"
"What happened? I didn't expect to see you till tonight."
The teen sighed, dropping her bag in the foyer. "Yeah well," she sat across from Angel, chin in her upturned palms, "I was supposed to meet my cousin. He's in the Navy. Anyway, his ship's in port for a couple of days and I was thinking we could play tourists around La."
"La?"
"LA"
"Oh." Five months of living literally under her feet and he still didn't quite understand her slang. "So he had other plans in mind?"
Christina nodded. "I thought he would."
Angel's brows furrowed, "So why the embarrassing dance lesson?"
"Well I didn't know what he'd wanna do. Besides," the word stretched wide as her cheshire cat grin, "it was fun." She laughed when the vampire hid behind the Saturday paper.
"Hey," she said, pulling it down, "we can train if you want."
Angel pulled the paper from her grasp. "What if I don't want to?"
She shrugged and stood. "Perfect ten with me. I need to go spring/summer shopping anyway. Oh and that new plas-book I wanted is out . . ."
"I'll meet you upstairs in fifteen minutes."
"On the condition that this is still my day off and we stop when I say so. Deal?"
"Deal."
They sat on the couch in the living room off the foyer. The Hyperion Arms was dark and quiet save a soft electrical hum. Wrapped together in a quilt their faces were lit by the blue of the flatscreen. Most of their conversation was that of body language. The sarcastic barbs and friendly fighting lost meaning in their pregnant silences.
She'd introduced him as Torin, her Navy-boy cousin. He was going to stay the night. Angel didn't mind, right?
Why should he mind? Torin was her cousin.
"You know, its times like this I miss Mom."
"Oh?" Torin looked at her. "Why?"
" 'Cause we're like a tag-team. She asks the basics like 'How have you been' and whatnot while I do things like this," and she pinched his cheek hard.
He captured the offending hand. "Ow! What'd you do that for?"
Christina shrugged, deftly taking her hand out of his. "To prove a point."
"Yeah right, what point?"
"The one I just proved."
Rolling his eyes Torin turned back to the flatscreen. "What were we watching again--?"
Christina shrugged. "Clueless. Why don't you flip?"
"-- and what are you doing to my hand?"
"Do you want me to stop?"
"You can if you want to."
Angel read between the lines and heard a definitive "no." He was watching them from the check-in desk, hidden by potted plants. They thought he'd gone out and he had been about to when he saw them coiled together on the couch. Angel was surprised to see them there. He'd thought they'd gone out. About to bid them goodnight the cousins began talking and Angel felt trapped. He couldn't explain it but he felt like a Peeping Tom.
He was too old to feel like a Peeping Tom.
It seemed Christina heard as he had, continuing to knead her cousin's hand. "And it's a hand massage."
Silence encompassed them again. It was in their silences, the roaring muteness, that they'd caught Angel in liquid amber. In that emptiness they spoke a language he didn't understand based in a history he didn't know. He was desperate to know.
Torin pulled away and did something . . .something and his hand reappeared. Christina took it without question or permission.
"You know," she said quietly, "we're not really related," looking at the back of his head.
"I know," he answered without turning as if she had said his name was Torin.
Angel frowned. Where had that come from? He got the sense that, more than what they'd said that night, volumes had been spoken in those two short statements. He sensed that had he known them from birth he would still be lost. He sense that, suddenly, the honey sticky bubble had contracted around them alone. He sensed that for this charmed moment, seduced as his curiosity was, he was free.
Angel wasted no time making his way into the night.
"Do you remember the summer I stayed over?"
"You mean the summer of Torin, Tina, Tanya and Tara?"
"Yeah." And the bubble had expanded.
They were up early early the next morning exercising, sparring. Angel met Torin waiting for the private elevator. "It was nice to meet you."
The men shook hands. "Shipping off?" Angel asked.
"Yeah, gotta report in no later than twenty-one hundred. Thanks for
taking care of my cousin.
"Her mom'd kill me if I didn't."
Torin smiled wide. "Yeah, Aunt Kim would. Bye Tina," he called.
"Bye Torin. Good sailing." Frelling sneaker, always coming unlaced. Why didn't she just get slip-ons? Who cared if she thought they were the ugliest things in "Eep! Don't do that!"
Angel grinned. "Did I scare you?"
"Yes you big lug. And stop laughing at my expense." He couldn't help himself and could hardly stop. "Do you want to do this or not? I have to be out by nine."
"What do you do on Sundays anyway?" Angel felt her right cross travel through his hand down his legs. She was getting stronger. The vibrations shivered through him. Had he been mortal his arms would have felt jellied.
They danced around the room punching and feinting, dodging and lunging. "Why don't you rent out the suites on my floor?" Christina asked. It felt like hitting a brick wall, sparring with Angel. A softening wall: he was stone become flesh under fists. She liked that.
Angel didn't answer.
Knives. Christina loved knives and sihes and swords and daggers. Sharp things, she liked sharp gleaming things. Much as she didn't like close fighting she made exceptions for daggers. Angel always noticed the glitter in her eyes when she pulled one of his swords out of its protective scabbard; always noticed the small sigh of pleasure when she held it well balanced in her hand. Even when he bested her, when the weapon in her hand seemed to have turned against her, it was with love she replaced it.
Clang! He struck without warning, but the long sword was an extension of Christi's arm. An almost independently mobile limb, it had become part of her sense of self.
If their sparring had been a dance this was a rehearsal for the Royal Ball. Muscles bunched and corded exposing themselves under smooth skin. Fingers curled in a death grip around sweat slicked hilts as nerves numbed from constant jarring. Pain was a specter shadowing their every move occasionally stepped into. Or punched into. Or kicked into. Or elbowed into.
The grunts, the sharp cries and gasps for breath faded behind the clash of metal against metal against metal against metal against metal.
And Christina was the sword. Thoughts translated into action without consciousness. It breathed with her. It blinked with her. Its heartbeat was her own. Only when consciousness came to the fore did she falter so Christina gave herself over to the sword.
Angel saw that moment, was aware of the shift. He had been waiting for it. The part of him always outside their lessons stood waiting for this to be the time, the fight when it happened. He saw the curtain fall over her eyes and the mask over her face. He saw and stepped back watching from a distance wondering if she could control it or if it would become a blood madness. He did not hope. The part of Angel that hoped was fighting.
Muscle and bone screamed for the mercy but The Sword was not appeased. She had to appease the Sword. She was The Sword. They/She had to be appeased.
Somehow Angel was caught in last night's liquid amber. Torin had trailed some while departing. Yet that was not why Angel's view was filled with the ceiling and Christina/The Sword. Angel had not become The Sword.
They/She stood over him, sword poised high. The curtain and the mask were still there hiding conscious thought. Angel waited. The part of him that stood outside waited.
They/She plunged the sword deep.
Angel rolled away feeling the rush of air slide over his skin. Rolling back the sword sang loud a half inch from his ear.
They/She had won. They/She had been appeased. She who had been the sword was appeased. Christina standing over Angel's body, sheathed the sword.
"That was fun." She extended her hand. It was a little awkward helping him up, straddled over him as she was. Angel threw her a towel. "You know what the best part was?"
"What?"
"When my hair flared out for that spin. Aaa!" Christina'd caught a glimpse of her wrist LCD. "Gotta Jetta. See you later Angel."
"Later Christi."
"Hey Angel!" she called from the elevator. The vampire turned. "The second best part was when you looked up at me and thought I was gonna dice ya." Laughing she allowed the elevator to descend.
Angel picked up his own fallen weapon. Sheathing it, he too had won. She had control.
"And you're sure you won't come with us Angel?"
The vampire shook his dark head. "Why don't you invite Keisha?"
"Let my boss have her much needed holiday."
"Hey, what about me?"
"Your Arlene's boss and Jorge's boss and everyone else that works at the Hyperion. Most importantly your Christina's boss."
"Hi Rachel," Christina said breathlessly, running down the stairs. "Did you convince Angel to come with us to Festival Night?"
The tall dirty-blonde shook her head. "For some reason he doesn't want to go back to high school the way we do."
"Tsk, tsk Angel."
He raised his hands in self-defense, "When I was alive there was no high school."
"Bad excuse," Rachel said.
"Yeah," Christi agreed, "bad excuse."
Inside Angel was delighted for the young women. While Keisha was a good friend and ever ready training partner Rachel was the closest Christina had to a best friend. She'd been the only one to reach the grief stricken girl sitting alone in a desert iciness. Christina's pain had been silent, never making itself known in either anger or tears. It had been a void created by shock and denial and reality combined and destroying all. It had been cold. Rachel had de-necrotized the part of her that had died with Carmen.
Angel was eternally grateful.
Soon the two girls were gone.
"So tell me about Festival," Christina said.
"My old school, well my brother's school now, has this open fair thing every Halloween. The little kids get all costumed and people dress up." Seeing the worry on her friend's face Rachel quickly added, "But a lot of people don't."
Christi's camera bounced with her every step. "Who's that," she asked training it on a tall redhead in the distance.
"Give me the camera. Um, Jon. Wow, he hasn't graduated? Here, take it back."
Click. "He's cute."
"You just have a thing for redheads."
"Only aesthetically speaking."
"Ha ha. Aesthetics my big toe!"
"I'm attracted to brunettes. I'm fascinated by redheads. Mostly."
"Rachel rolled her eyes. "Oh no. Justina at ten o'clock."
"What?!"
The tall blonde grinned. "Always wanted to say that. She's off to the left. Honestly, I don't know why Keisha lets her stay with the crew. She's a mean snooty little --"
"Rachel," Christina said in mock surprise, "I didn't know you thought ill of anyone."
"I'm making an exception. Let's just steer clear. She irks me to no end. It's bad enough I have to fight with her every night."
And so they did.
Rachel introduced Christina to old high school friends. Together they taunted her brother and own toys for the baby. Indeed there were many families out, the general populace in all states of dress. Rache's overalls and Christina's wrap skirt covered jeans were as ordinary as the three foot mermaid and the six foot four inch football fairy king.
"It's getting crowded," Christi said.
"You want to take a walk toward Old Town?" Rachel suggested. "It should be pretty empty that way." Christi nodded. "Great, come on, this way."
Christina snapped pictures as they walked through the historic part of town. Dropping in a new mem-chip she handed the camera over to Rache.
They were nearing the edge of town when she felt it. Gently Christi laid a hand on Rache's arm. "Vampire," she said without turning.
"On Halloween?"
"Maybe it wants directions to the Hellmouth?" The girls broke into uproarious laughter. "Wanna act like we're scared run away?"
Rachel nodded, grinning wolfishly. "On the count of three okay? Okay. One, two, three!"
They sprinted away. Their giggles filled the still night air. Well ahead of the vamp they could still hear its heavy footsteps behind them. It was gaining. Christina looked over at her friend and saw the wicked gleam in her eyes reflected there.
"We'll trap it in the next park," she called. Rachel nodded.
The park rushed up at them while the vampire seemed to fall behind. Hearts pounding, adrenaline flowing they ran headlong into the night. Between two squat buildings was a park entrance. They ran in, the vamp following. Without warning Christi crashed into a chain link fence and heard Rachel do the same. Behind the gate they could see the dark shape of trees
"Come on, there's another park a block down," Rache said breathlessly. "It leads out there."
"Woo hoo," Christina crowed. "Let's do it!" This was proving to be the best Halloween in years. A little company, some games, family and her first vampire staking were all she needed for a fun night. Christi took the lead, running out the park, Rachel at her heels.
A cold hand clamped over Rache's mouth. "Don't scream, it's Angel."
She pried his fingers from her lips. "Angel. We've been running from you?"
"Yeah. Didn't you hear me calling your names?"
"No."
"All right. Um, I'm gonna catch up to Christi. We'll meet you back at Festival."
She agreed.
Christina slowed. What had happened to Rachel? She'd been right there. Wait, those were footsteps? Turning to make sure it was her friend Christi caught sight of the flying shadow of her skirt and a body utterly unfeminine. No this was not happening!
A shriek escaped her. She was floating, free falling. A band of stone fell across Christi's chest. The wall hat cushioned her fall was familiar but not: softened iron. "Angel?" she questioned.
"Yes?"
She laughed. The sound filled Angel's dead lungs and reverberated in that place where his heart once beat. Having worked herself down to chuckles and smiles Christina said, "You can let me go now."
Angel flushed. "Right. Up. Let go. All very good things." Her good humored chuckles encircled him as he helped her stand. Turning she offered him her hand, the laughter sparkling in her eyes. Angel smiled back but it was more a reaction to her than any impulse of his own..
"I was ready to make you my first staking."
Dusting himself off he looked up at her. "Were you?" She nodded. "Then maybe you're ready for your first patrol."
"In LA?"
"You can patrol in LA," Angel defended. "It's just . . .different."
Christina shook her head. "Whatever. Where's Rachel?" He told her she was waiting for them. "Cool. Let's go." Grabbing hold of Angel's hand she pulled him along.
"Um, Chris, the Festival's back that way."
"Let's go the long way. I want to see that forest-y thing me and Rachel were gonna stake you in." Facing him quickly she added, "Think of it as the long way back."
Angel groaned. "But I don't wanna go back the long way," he whined. Christina ignored him dragging Angel toward the tantalizing trees. "And we're going to find our way back how?"
"Look, the backs of the buildings are right there," she pointed with their joined hands. Somehow it didn't seem strange. It didn't seem like anything special at all. "Actually," Christi amended, "that's too close. Come on," and pulled them further from town.
If someone asked Angel why he allowed himself to be led like a puppy he wouldn't have been able to answer. A lapdog he was not yet Christina wasn't demanding. The hand in his was insistent but easily resisted. He could almost feel his fingers slipping from hers, could see her disappointed expression brightening almost instantly at the thought of going back to the fair. He could almost hear her whining protest before proclaiming to be joking. Imperceptibly Angel squeezed her hand.
Christina turned, a question in her eyes. Finding no answers she plunged ahead. "This reminds me of Central Park."
She turned again, "You've been in Central Park at night?" and asked then rolled her eyes. "Duh Chris, of course he's been in Central Park at night."
Angel chuckled. Her defiant pace slowed until the two walked abreast, hand in hand not so silently admiring the night. Without conscious thought Christina's free hand went to her neck.
"Why do you do that?"
"Do what?" she asked furrowing her brow at the trees ahead.
"Play with your chain."
"Oh," she smiled and looked at him. "That. I dunno, just a habit. I do it with all my necklaces. I just . . .wear this one the most."
"Okay then," and suddenly Angel sat, "why do you wear that one more often than not?" He couldn't explain the mood that had come over him so he didn't try.
Christina, pulled along, sat beside the vampire with an unladylike plop. "I dunno." She flushed, unused to the sudden attention. "Because I like silver?" Angel reaised an eyebrow. That answer wasn't good enough. "Um, because I like cats," she fingered the seated pewter feline. And . . .his eyes seemed to say. "And I guess mostly 'cause Mom bought it for me years ago. She knows what a cat fiend I am and, well, it was just nice," she finished in a rush not knowing what else to say.
"Oh."
"Oh? Oh. Is that all you have to say?" she asked fist raised in mock fury.
"Uh huh."
"Okay," she answered placidly, lowering the clenched fingers.
Angel laughed.
"You know you should do that more often."
"What, ask questions about your personal life?" As if I don't already know the answers, he thought to himself.
"Noo, laugh."
A rejoinder on the tip of his tongue, Angel was struck with a sense of deja-vu.
Suddenly he felt a tug on their joined hands. Christi was laid back on the grass, legs still folded, staring at the sky. "You know I can only recognize Orion's belt. Ah the benefits of being a city kid."
He stretched out beside her. "See that one?" Which one? "The really bright one to the left of Orion," he pointed with his free hand trying to help. Yes, she saw it. "Okay now follow the line down about seven stars and --"
"The Big Dipper," Christi exlaimed proud of herself. "Show me another one Angel? Please?"
He pointed out the Pleaides and named all seven sisters. He showed her the Scales and the Little Dipper. He showed her which of the very bright stars were not stars at all but planets of their solar system. In the between time as Angel racked his unnaturally long memory for facts from his mortality Christina hummed. She told the few jokes she knew warning him they'd probably fall flat (most did.) She named the trees around them and described the shapes her mind created from the stars. And every fact seemed somehow connected to family or friends. Carlo had told her this joke (only she liked it); her grandmother had that tree in her backyard; this was the song she was supposed to sing with Carmen; she and Rachel did this, sometimes, on the roof of the van.
"And that one over there, the pinkish star --"
"Angel, is your LCD correct?"
"It's off about a minute or so. Why?"
"Because Rachel is so going to kill us. We've been gone nearly an hour and a half!"
The couple scrambled to their feet brushing autumnal litter from their clothes. A strong breezed only blew more into their hair. Christina grinned twirling in the briefly swirling leaves.
"Hey," Angel protested but he was grinning too, "cut that out. Or don't you want to make it back to Festival?"
"Mmm, I dunno. Okay, okay," she amended catching sight of his no nonsense look, "I wanna go back."
So without thinking she slipped her hand back into his. "Wait a second," her murmured. She faced him. "You've been treed." Christina gave him a puzzled look. "Someone left you a gift," he answered pulling a small deep red leaf from her hair. He held it up, twirling it between his forefinger and thumb.
Smiling with laughter in her eyes, she kissed it gently. Shoulders shaking with silent mirth she looked up -- "You know, I'm amazed we can see so many stars this close to town" -- into Angel's eyes and found something foreign there.
"Angel, wha --?" But the words were muffled, swallowed by another mouth.
Shock. Her brain, her functioning self had shut down. The commenting self shut up. A new self emerged.
Close behind shock: fire. In the heart of fire: electricity. Every point of contact with Angel's body forced fire through her pores. The small docile hairs stood on end making her ache. Angel caressed her arm with his free hand. The ache didn't go away.
Angel snaked his free arm around her waist and pulled her closer. Could he drink her in? Could he take her, bodily, into himself? Licking her soft but unresponsive lips Angel concentrated on entering her warmth. When her mouth opened he knew he'd won.
The new self took over. Oh she had been there but asleep and denied. The new self tangled her free hand in Angel's hair and crushed his lips to hers. If she could get closer she tried.
Was he out of his mind? Yes. Did he realize what he was doing? Yes. Did he know what he was creating in her? Yes. Did Angel care? No. All that mattered was the taste of her mouth the smooth blunt teeth and her warm wetness.
He hair had to be standing on end. Electricity and fire had split; the flames sinking localizing, the electricity traveled out dancing along her skin. For some reason her tongue had become fascinated with the hard roof of Angel's mouth. There was a little line there that needed to be explored and every pass was a caress with his tongue. Now the electrical shocks were dancing between her fingertips, Angel's tongue becoming the newest fixation. So in tandem she drew him deeper into her mouth and clenched his hand.
Angel pulled away sharply. He'd felt the shock too. She'd passed the electricity into his skin so that soul and demon became aware of their complicity with the other.
Now was the time for the new self to step back and let the other selves do their work. But she would not back down, she would not let go. She didn't know how.
"Christina," her brain, the functioning self, awoke, "I'm sorry." Guilt was written on the planes of Angel's face, in the lines of his body. "I shouldn't have done that. I . . .I --"
She caught a glance of his LCD. Two minutes, no, one. She had been reading it wrong. It had only been a minute? It seemed like more.
" -- shouldn't have kissed you. I'm sorry." Confusion was coming off her in waves. It was Angel's fault. He'd seen this coming and he'd done nothing to divert it. How was he to explain he'd been drawn to Christina before they'd met? How was he to explain avoiding her at the Hyperion whenever not training because this attraction was unfathomable? How was he to explain that htis moment had been utterly wrong, that it had been the strange culmination of a stranger feeling, that at best he had filial feelings towards her, that he just desperately needed to get laid?
Guilt pushed his hand through the base of Angel's spine and twisted his stomach. "I'm so sorry Chri --"
"It's okay Angel," she said surprised that her voice was unchanged.
"No, it's not okay. I shouldn't have kissed you --" a glass shard pierced her, " -- how to make it up --"
Christina stopped listening. The way he was going on of those glass shards he was tossing about so carelessly would pierce her eye. How would she hide the pain then?
"Angel, stop. Really it's okay." She'd forgotten how fluid lying was. "I'm okay, you're okay and the world's still spinning." A breezed swirled the leaves at their feet. Awarness flooded Christina. A shiver raced through her body.
Christina slipped her fingers from his. It felt just as Angel imagined it would.
"No more 'Sweet sixteen and never been kissed.'" Had she said that aloud? From the way Angel stiffened she had. She had.
"Hand me the next one please? I like this CD," Christina said a little too loudly. "Um, I think it's called 'Becoming X.'"
A hard plastic case filled her peripheral vision. She grabbed it blindly. "Keisha your hands are freezing. Which group is this?"
"Linkin Park," came a deep very non-female voice.
Christina turned quickly pulling an earbud free. "Angel."
Things were still strained between them. "Keisha said she'll be right back."
"Good."
They stared at each other both wanting to look away but neither able. Christina couldn't stop her eyes from searching his face. What she was looking for Angle didn't know. It lay somewhere between his lips and eyebrows.
"Thank you," she said softly, "for letting us, uh, go through your stuff. Through your music."
Angel shrugged. "It's no problem really. You're the ones doing me a favor." He concentrated on her hairline, the edges of her ears venturing no closer than the outside corners of her eyes while she continued to search.
"I was wondering," Christina said, carefully phrassing her request, "if maybe me and Keisha could, um, keep some of the CD's or . . .or make copies of the ones you really want, maybe . . .?"
"Sure, sure. Anything you guys want."
"Thanks," she smiled trepiditiously. "But we'll make sure to ask which ones you want first," she added hastily.
"Hey Chris." Their gaze turned to the Black girl entering the room. "Thanks Angel. Do you want to stay and help?"
He looked at Christina. Almost imperceptibly she nodded. She'd found whatever she'd been looking for. "No that's all right. Training later," he reminded them both. Pushing himself up from the floor he stepped carefully over the plastic cases and walked away.
Rachel slumped to the hard asphalt. Catching the sudden movement out of the corner of her eye Christina turned to her fallen friend. Her knobbly skinned opponont landed an uppercut on her jaw.
"Chris, pay attention!"
"No duh Angel!" The Slayer threw the demon to the ground only to have it use her momentum and pull her down with it. Straddling her waist it proceeded to take revenge for the punishment she'd dished out. Between punches deflected and landed Christina watched in horror as another demon stalked her fallen friend. Everyone else was busy with their own red skinned dance partner. Not again, she thought to herself.
Catching one of its fists in her hand, Christi reached behind her head and picked up the small battle axe she'd dropped. With a yell she buried it in the demon's chest. Pushing the foul bleeding body off herself she stod and yanked the blade out. Black-red blood gushed geyser-like from its body covering her. Christina hardly noticed.
She rushed the demon holding her friend it its deadly embrace. Sensing her -- or perhaps hearing her battle cry -- it turned, dropping Rachel, and grabbed the blade end of the axe. For a moment they played tug-of-war with the axe but while her end was ancient wood the blade was slippery slick with blood. Christi ruthlessly pulled it from the demon's grasp shredding its palms in the process. Howling in pain and anger it charged the Slayer.
Angel dispatched his opponent and scanned the group. Only a blood covered Christina was still fighting. He watched the irate demon charge his pupil and started to run in her direction -- until its head rolled to a stop at his feet. "So you don't need my help," he concluded.
"Rachel, Rachel honey, are you okay?" Christina brushed the blonde's hair from her forehead leaving behind a dark red smear. For the first time she noticed the blood that covered her, its chilling weight dragging at her clothes making the skin on her cheeks tingle, the smell filling her nostrils.
Keisha sprinted to Angel's side. "Is everyone okay?"
"Yeah," he answered with a nod.
"Dag man, what were those things anyhow? I'lm never gonna get this smell out of my clothes," she complained.
"They're . . .they're," Angel looked at the fallen, mangled and dismembered bodies. "I have no clue what they are."
Keisha grinned. "Me neither. Just wanted to make sure I wasn't the only one."
A short distance away Christina was helping her best friend to stand. "You're sure you're okay? Perfect ten?" The blonde nodded. "Okay." She couldn't seem to stop staring at her blood covered hands. They were utterly, inexplicably, completely fascinating. It was as if Christina had never seen them before.
Someone, a boy maybe a man, slapped her back. Andrew? Jerry? Jerry. "What? You act like you've never seen blood before." He walked on. Walk on. She should do that. Walk.
She did it. Christina put one foot in front of the other. The world moved. Her hands did not. She looked down at her now lineless palms slowling to her pink-tinged nails. They were,they were, they were . . .
"Chris." She bumped into Angel's side. "Chris," he repeated. She clung to his arm off balance and shocked out of her reverie. "Christina are you all right?" the vampire asked with true concern.
She'd stained his jacket sleeve but he'd hardly notice. There was just so much of it . . . Looking up into his chocolateeyes she lied.
"Okay. Come on, let's go home."
Anger course through him as Angel stalked downstairs to his pupil's suite. She'd failed to show up for morning training. It wasn't true anger but one borne of knowing Christina could do better. When she didn't answer he went down to the front desk. Maybe Jorge had seen her.
"I'm sorry, sir, but I haven't."
"You know," a guest butted in, "she might be in the entertainment room with some of the children."
Angel turned tot he woman. "Why's that?"
"Well I know Hyatt and Johnny, my daughter and son, love to watch their Saturday morning cartoons with her. They always talk about getting up early and getting heir cereal from the kitchen only to find she's already there before them. You know Mrs. Lymen says the same thing, that her kids love Christina and she lo --"
Angel had stopped listening some time ago. Hopefully talking to Jorge would satisfy her need to gab. Sure enough the flatscreen was bright wtih animated characters but of all the heads visible over the back of the couch he was familiar with none of them.
"Excuse me," five or six youthful faces turned to him, "but have any of you seen Christina? She's about yea tall and --"
"Yeah we know who she is," the oldest girl answered. "We haven't seen her all morning."
"Is she okay?"
"Johnny, shut up! Don't you know who he is?"
"It's okay. I take it you're Hyatt?" The girl nodded. "I met your mother just a minute ago. And to answer your question, young man, Christina's fine. Just overslept I'm sure," he finished in a sort of mumble.
"Well . . .if you see her tell she missed all the good cartoons."
"I will," he promised and was gone. "Jorge, pass me the master card key will you? Thanks."
Upstairs he tried knocking again. When there was no answer he let himself in. "Christina," he called softly. Faintly he heard her heart deeper within the rooms. It was the sound he was programmed to hear over all others.
The suite had everything she could require except a kitchen. As he passed the hall bathroom another sound reached his ears. Angel stopped unsure, at first, of what it was and from whence it came.
Slowly his mind unraveled the mysterious present. It was muic: song without words. Vocalization. Formless pure emotion. The voice cracked.
Angel stalked to the back. "Christina," he said more firmly this time. "Christina?" In her room now he could smell as well as hear her. It was a strange scent almost as if she had tried to wash herself away. While the rest of the room -- the entire suite -- gave off Her in varying degrees she was the one soap-scented anomaly.
The nameless vocalization started again but broke after the first few notes. He was more grateful han he would ever admit. It had spoken directly to his guilt ridden soul and he was afraid that had she continued he would not have been able to go on.
Quickly scanning the large cluttered room Angel saw her bent head in a corner on the other side of the massive bed. He crossed the space in four long strides. Crouched before her his fears were allayed when she raised her head. "No, no, no," she whispered. Her eyes were blind, unfocused.
Angel took her chin between his fingers. "Christina," he said sharply. Sight came to her. Shuddering she drew her crossed legs up to her chest. She rubbed her hands together as if cold . . .or washing them. "People are worried about you, Christi."
"I killed someone Angel," she said as if he hadn't spoken, "did you know that?"
He looked at her confused. "When? How?"
"Last night. His blood was on my hands. I could smell it all on my clothes. I smeared it on my face. Oh God, I killed someone and his blood was on my face!" With a sudden strength she batted his hands away and began rubbing away the blood that wasn't there.
Angel grabbed her hands. "Christina. Christina stop it! You didn't kill someone," he stressed, "you killed a demon. A monster."
"No," she wailed struggling against him.
"Yes a monster," he morphed into gameface, "like me," and out again.
"Like me."
"What are you talking about?"
"I killed Angel!" She wrenched her hands from his grasp. "What kind of person does that make me?"
"You saved lives."
"By taking some."
"They would have killed you, killed Rachel, killed all of us then attacked the city. You did what any good Slayer would do."
Christina buried her face in the crossed arms over her knees. "Then I can't be a Slayer."
Frowning at her he said, "You don't have much choice."
"You don't understand," she looked up at her vampire mentor with liquid eyes, "I can't do this. I can't. I can't. I can't."
Grabbing hold of his shoulders Angel shook his pupil. "Yes you can. You have to."
"Not like this I can't," she wailed.
Angel pulled her into his arms without resistance. Rocking her back and forth muttered nonsense words. He was struck with a sense of deja-vu. "Death doesn't fit my ideology," she whispered lips brushing his neck.
It was deja-vu all over again.
"What?!"
Keisha excused herself numerously as she pushed past guests. "I said 'Wait I wanna talk to you.'"
Christina scrunched her nose. "I'm kinda in a rush to work and if I don't leave now I'll miss my ground 'port. Mudo crudoff LA transports," she swore.
"Why don't you drive?"
"Drive what? Angel's car? Oh cha, I can so see his face. Can you say brokedown palace?" The Black girl rushed to keep up with her friend. "Look, if you want to talk walk me to the 'port."
The teens walked into the glaring Californian sun. "So how are you?"
Christina looked at her friend in disbelief. "I'm fine and you?" She made a face that said 'You nearly made me late for this?!'
"I mean how are you since the whole demon inspired nervous breakdown thing. We haven't had a real chance to talk since it feels, you know girl?"
"I've gone on patrol every night since then, a month ago. I'm fine Keish." They crossed the crowded afternoon strreet. "Every demon I've killed has stayed dead. Well except that Mvr . . .Mevar . . .Mvralck demon but that was different."
Keisha put a hand on her should, "But you never talk about it."
"Why should I," she replied with a shrug.
The transport pulled up. As people filed on Keisha had one last question. "Why do you work anyhow? It's not like you have to."
Christina thought of all the untouched wages that hadn't gone to books and other expenses stored in her bank account. It was more than what she needed for her plan but there were always unexpected surprises. Two people from boarding she answered, "Yeah I do."
For the fifth time in as many days Angel had attacked his pupil. So far they were even win for win with one draw. Christina was all cleaned up and pissed as a porcupine when she came downstairs for her last class of the day and work.
Of course she would run into the dark vampire. "You know," he said, "you smell funny."
"What your vamp nose doesn't like my body wash?" she countered snidely.
"Are you wearing that today?" he asked indicating her long skirt and high heeled boots.
"And you care, why?"
"Aren't you going patrolling after work?"
"Yeah."
"Um, heels?"
"Yeah, so I can fight in heels. Why do you care?"
What's with you?"
"What's with me? What's with you?! I mean attacking me anywhere and everywhere." Christina shook her head angry without knowing why. "Grief Angel! Just leave me alone."
He caught up to her further down the stairs. Grabbing her by the arm he forced her to face him. "Blood."
"What?"
"That's what I smell, blood. You're PMS'ing." Angel broke the unspoken taboo with a smile of pride. Only after the words had fallen from his lips did he remember the last time this happened with Cordelia. He prepared for the worst.
He didn't. He couldn't. He . . .he . . .he . . .How dare he?!
But it was with cold silent fury that Christina wrenched her arm from the vampire's grasp. Angel was left gazing at her quickly disappearing back.
And it was with a cold analytical calm she made her decision riding back to the Hyperion with Angel. Pulling her dark brown microfiber pea coat closer she stepped out of the ancient convertible. Looking up at the tall palms she could only glare at them with contempt. There was no winter here only hot and mild.
It wasn't like they needed her. She'd missed Watch Night for the first time in sixteen years when she'd left with Angel she wouldn't miss another. In her mind she weighed the two responsibilities with the void that had become her heart. Anger transmuted. It was deja vu all over again except this time the anger was directed inward. The void was, once again, taking her away.
"Are you going to stare at the only two stars in the sky all night or are you coming inside?" Angel asked.
Besides, LA was really starting to piss her off.
Angel stepped into the vestibule of the church. It was unlike any other he had seen in over a century. "I didn't think there was such a thing as Black Calvinists," he mumbled to himself. There was an almost complete lack of holy objects. No depictions of God or Jesus Christ on the walls. There was no cross over the pulpit, no angels staring down at him from the ceiling and yet it was obviously --
His eyes picked up the small slogans along the walls. On the pulpit lectern was a white dove. The Holy Spirit. Behind the ministers'/priests'/whomevers' seats were two flags: American on the right, Christian (they had a flag?) on the left. All in all, to Angel's Catholic baroque upbringing, very barren and very boring.
A vampire's dream church -- if not for the vaguely disquieting feeling that intensified as he neared the sanctuary doors. It was if the air were semi-saturated with holy water.
A week of searching and there she was at her mother's side holding a small child. For a frantic seven days he'd searched all LA county. He'd look through every book of prophecy. His informants wouldn't be able to walk for days and his cash-for-intel account was exhausted. Wesley and Gunn had used, abused and finally given dirty looks to their own sources. Lorne had banned him from Caritas for at least a month. At least.
There she was, at her mother's side, holding a small child looking happier than she had since her birthday. The child pulled the simple silver cross -- his gift -- from her neck. Gently Christina extricated the chubby fingers.
An usher opened the door amplifying the laughter of the saints and his discomfort. "Can I help you?" she asked politely and with a smile. "You're welcome to join our Watch Night service." There was genuineness there.
"No, no, that's okay. I'm, um, here for a friend. S'pose to pick her up later." About to leave he turned back to the woman. "Tell me, when will your service be over?"
"Oh, I don't know, usually around one or two. D'you want me to tell your friend you stopped by?" He shook his head. "Well then we'd love it if you stayed and you're always w--" something kept her from completing her sentence, "welcome anytime." Suddenly she was looking at him very carefully, warily.
"I, I should go now," and Angel was back on the breath-stealing cold streets of New York.
"Happy New Year's Eve," she'd said to his back but he didn't hear.
When he returned people were milling about talking in groups while children ran and squealed about the sanctuary. For one night the adults were lenient -- "Andrew get off the drums!" -- to a point.
She'd moved to the back, the fourth to last row, with the child apparently asleep in her arms. "Chrisss!" He drew his fingers from the skin of her arm as if burned.
"Angel." Christina turned and the child -- baby -- stirred. "What took you so long?" she asked quietly. It was almost lost in the din. "Hey pretty baby, are we up?" The little girl looked at her groggily before settling firmly back in the crook of her shoulder. Christina's smile was tired but love ridden as she placed a gentle kiss on the baby's head.
"You've had everyone tied in knots looking for you."
"I figured. I'm sorry." Her gaze strayed from the vampire. "You know, she's not going to remember me. I'll be one of those people who'll ask and she'll just shake her head no." Looking back at him she continued, "I just got tired of waiting for a call from Bishop after my birthday. LA was suddenly . . ." She stared into his eyes, "too small. Does that make any sense?"
"No, but I understand waiting and feeling trapped."
She smiled at him. "Thanks."
The baby watched him from her very comfortable position. "And what's you're name?" She stared at him blankly over the pacifier as if the vampire was hardly worth recognizing at all.
With a smile Christina answered, "This is Emmy, short for Emerald. Emmy say 'hi.' Come on I know you're awake and you know you can say 'hi.'" She didn't budge. "Em!"
"S'okay." Angel reached to stroke the bairn's head. He pulled away quickly, burned.
Christina didn't notice as the child turned away too . . .upset by the stranger. Instead she tried to simultaneously cling her holder while burrowing deeper into he warm body. "Emmy, stop that! You're too big to be climbing Mount Tina, thank you very much."
While she scolded Angel wondered at what had happened. First there was the disconcerting feeling in the air then being burned not once but twice while touching humans. What was going on? "Chris, what happened tonight?"
"At Watch Night? Um, I dunno, usual stuff. Traditionally slaves used to wait on New Years Eve for the stroke of twelve sure that was when the Rapture would come to deliver them from slavery. Nowadays Christians have Watch Night to ring in the New Year."
"Not what is it -- though thank you -- but what happened at your service?"
"Oh. Um, there were skits, a comedy thing, she smiled remembering, " a couple hundred songs/solos/sing-a-longs, um two dances, a mini message from Pastor, prayer, we sang another song then benedicted."
"Prayer?"
"Yeah we always pray in the New Year. I had to stand there around the alter holding a sleeping Em while one of the ministers practically pour oil on me." She rubbed her forehead as if the offending stuff was still there.
"Oil?"
"Uh huh, to anoint us?"
"Oh."
"Thank God it was a relatively short prayer." She looked up, "And I mean that Sir," she turned back to Angel, "cause Emmy's heavy asleep."
"Anointed huh?"
"You've never been anointed with oil before? Oh, that's right, you were Catholic. Um, it's like when you go to mass and before you go in you dip your fingers in the holy water and draw a cross on your forehead. But with oil. And someone does it for you," she added quickly.
"There are no objects in here."
"We're not really big on objects but that's just us. Other people are different."
"But you anoint yourselves. Make yourselves holy."
Christina laughed and said, "We also call ourselves 'The Saints.' Protestants really are different from Catholics. Get over it Angel," and petted his cheek. He flinched. "Angel?"
His cell phone went off saving him from explaining. Angel left the sanctuary and the too-holy-to-be-touched saints. Well at least now he understood some things. It was like there was holy water in the air.
The look in his eyes said it all when he returned. "Opal! Pearl!" Christina called. "Opal! Oh, Anna, honey, get Opal or Pearl please?" The child brought an older girl to them. "Take Emerald for me please? She just woke up so she's a little cranky. Oh, um Pearl this is Angel, Angel this is Pearl one of Em's aunts." The said a perfunctory hello. "Mom, Mommy?"
"Yes Tina?"
"Remember I told you Angel would come for me when its time to go?"
"Uh huh."
"Well, tada! Angel. I don't know when I'll be back home. I hear Halloween's good. Anywho I'll call as soon as we land in LA and again when we're in Sunnydale."
"Okay. I love you baby, you know that right?"
"Mmm, hmm."
"Be safe my darling."
"You too Mum."
Angel took her, clothed, arm, "We should go." Outside, "What was that about landing?"
"You don't think I drove or rode the bus to New York when I have a perfectly good job, do you?"