Fic: Trouble on the Way 4/6
Aug. 20th, 2010 06:34 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dragonyphoenixTitle: “Trouble On The Way” 4/6
Characters:
Rating: PG-13
Concrit: Please, in comments
Disclaimer: They aren't mine, not yet, but the will be once I've taken over the world. Bwah-ha-ha.
Summary: There's a new female demon, a werewolf, in town. Guess who's attracted.
Note: This story is set around the time of “Band Candy”, but, in my version, Xander and Cordy have already broken up. Sorry. Basically I wrote the story and, in a later edit, decided I needed to associate it with a specific episode. “Band Candy” fit best in terms of time-line and demonic activity so I went with it despite the fact that Xander and Cordy were still an item then.
Note: Thanks to diebirchen, the most gracious Fairy Godmother of Verbal Usage, for the beta. All errors, of course, are entirely mine.
All chapters of this story can be found here.
Roach-Trap Hotel, Rafe thought as he walked across the parking lot. The place was a flea bag in the bad part of town, but that meant people didn't ask too many, or any, questions. Always a plus when out on assignment. After a quick knock, the door opened, and Rafe was relieved to see only Makoto and Sergeant Ramon. He'd been thinking on his walk back about how his snack joke had fallen flat and frightened the target. Tonya was not only the hardest of them to deceive, she wanted to make contact herself and so had the greatest incentive to stick him back in the van.
Start by throwing in a grenade to distract, he thought as he said, “The vampire, Angel, is working with the Slayer.”
“You're sure?” Sergeant Ramon asked.
“Met him tonight. He didn't deny the name when I tagged him,” Rafe replied. As he plopped down into a chair, he added, “They didn't let me make contact.”
“What interest do they have in the werewolf?” Makoto asked.
“I don't know that they do. Felt more like they'd pegged me as a demon.” He thought a minute and then added, “She didn't know them.”
“Right,” Sergeant Ramon said. “How about you get up early enough tomorrow that you can see where she's spending her days? Wayne hasn't found any records on her so, if she has found a job, she's getting paid off the books.”
“Makes sense,” Rafe replied. “It's what I'd do in her situation.”
“Except she doesn't have your training,” Sergeant Ramon replied.
“She's got to be concerned,” Makoto added. “The full moon is less than a week away.”
“How's she handling it?” Rafe asked.
“According to Tonya, she's probably aware of the problem, but largely in denial about it,” Makoto said.
“When Helen's family died, her grandmother kept her caged to keep the wolf under control. Her subconscious is probably hoping someone else will step in and take control again,” Makoto added, most likely summing up what Tonya had told him.
“So, we rush in like heroes and save the day,” Rafe summed up.
“With any luck,” Sergeant Ramon replied. “Tonya thinks she's started to developed some of her werewolf senses. She'd be an excellent asset if we can get her to trust us.”
“We get anything new?” Rafe asked, to get off of a topic that could swing back to how he'd messed up the initial contact.
“From the apartment number you gave him, Wayne turned up a roommate, a Kristine Sachs. He's got a file for you to review.”
“Yes, ma'am,” Rafe said. He knew a dismissal when he heard one.
Helen's bedroom was sparse: a lamp and an old futon mattress that some friend of Kris's had dug up. The walls and carpet were that dull off-white tone endemic to apartments, giving the room an almost generic look, as if it could belong to anyone and be almost anywhere.
Climbing onto the futon, Helen wrapped one of Kris's spare blankets around herself. Not human, not human, not human, ran through the back of her mind as she recalled Rafe, Angel, and Buffy. Monsters? Maybe. Probably. At least Xander isn't a monster. Not yet, whispered through her thoughts. “No,” she said back. “Never. I won't hurt him.” Then you'll be alone forever.
Sitting up, Helen turned on the lamp. Rummaging around in her backpack, she found a bottle of pills. Only two left. When she'd been living with her grandmother, the doctor had said they'd help her sleep. Helen took one, swallowing it down without water. Just like every time she dosed herself with the pills, Helen felt like she'd never sleep, and then she was out.
Opening her eyes to the scent of popcorn, Helen took in the light green walls of her childhood bedroom and wished she hadn't taken the pill. No, not this, she thought, already knowing there was nothing she could do to change any of it.
“Helen, Tracey, it's starting,” Mom yelled from the living room over the intro to America's Funniest Home Videos. Helen's body, back in Sunnydale, tossed on the futon as her mind relived the worst night of her life.
“I'll be out in a minute,” came her sister's voice from the bathroom.
“Run. Get out of here. It's coming to kill you”, Helen tried to shout, but all that came out was the same old complaint. “Why can't I watch over at Emma's?”
“Because you're grounded,” Mom replied, holding out the bowl of popcorn as an offering. As her heart sank at the sight of her family and the last bit of normal life she'd had with them, Helen watched herself grumpily take a handful of popcorn. When some of the kernels fell on the floor, she shrugged an apology, picked them up, and carried them into the kitchen to toss them out.
“Ooh, popcorn,” Tracey said, bouncing onto the couch.
Helen's feet carried her to the bathroom, but she turned back, as she always did in the nightmare, at the sound of wood splintering. It was the wolf. Then Helen could scream, but she still couldn't change anything. Dad grabbed the bat, the one Tracey had left out after practice, and ran straight at the wolf. Mom herded them into the back bedroom, closing the door behind, and almost threw them out the window. “Run,” she told them, but Helen stopped to wait for her. My fault, Helen's thoughts cried. If we'd run like Mom had said, maybe Tracey would still be alive. They heard more splintering, and then Mom, with one leg halfway out the window, was dragged back into the bedroom.
“Mooooom,” Tracey screamed. The wolf lunged up into the window. Grabbing Tracey's hand, Helen started running, but a slash of claws took her down. She closed her eyes in pain, still trying to crawl away from death. Then she heard the sound of gunshots.
Helen had blacked out then, when it had happened, but her nightmare filled in the details. She saw the wolf, wounded by bullets, dragging her sister off into the desert as it fled. Emma's father carried Helen back to his home so that she wouldn't wake with death and blood all around her. The wolf dragged Tracey into a cranny of a cave, her screams coming to an abrupt halt as it went for her throat. It chewed on her flesh until the body was no longer recognizable as Helen's sister.
Rafe, hidden by the chill of a dark alley, wished he hadn't drunk down his coffee so quickly, more for the warmth the cup would provide than anything else, although extra caffeine would be more than welcome. Wayne had insisted he be out, watching for Helen, by five in the goddamn morning. Rafe was certain he'd heard his brother laughing as he made his way out into the pre-dawn darkness. Not that Wayne had gone back to bed. He was in the van acting as backup with Makoto, but Wayne didn't mind the morning. Unnatural bastard.
Helen didn't make an appearance until a quarter to eight. Tracking her was trickier than Rafe had expected, which suggested Tonya was right that her wolf senses were kicking in. After she'd gone into an antique shop, Rafe waited fifteen minutes. If she were just shopping, she'd most likely be in and out quickly, but if this was her job, she'd have settled in by then and be easier to monitor.
Rafe looked back and forth to be sure the street was empty, before squatting down in front of the shop's display window, and peering into the store from behind the carved legs of some old table. It was difficult to track his subject, but he didn't want to be spotted until he had a firmer grasp of the situation. Of course he'd be terribly conspicuous if anyone walked by, but he was prepared to ramble on about the intricacies of the Queen Anne carvings on the table legs if need be. He hoped that if he did have to distract someone, they'd know as little about antiques as he did; he wasn't even sure there was such a thing as Queen Anne carvings.
Peering in between the table legs, he saw Helen talking to a man. Neither of them was exactly easy to see. The man was facing the back of the store, blocking Rafe's view of Helen. No use trying to talk to her until she was alone. He'd have to wait until the man, most likely the owner, either left or went into the back of the store.
Then the man turned, and Rafe almost gasped. Nash? How had that old Domuti gotten his claws into Helen so quickly? Scrambling until he was out of sight of the window and hoping he hadn't been spotted, Rafe raced to the van to report in.
At a phone booth next to the basketball court where the cool kids usually hung out, Xander waited for Helen to pick up. That night a bunch of parents had taken over the court. Xander was betting on one of them having a heart attack. His money was on Mr. Price. It couldn't be healthy for anyone's face to be that red.
“Hello?”
“Helen?” Xander asked.
“Yes,” she said, sounding wary.
“It's me. I mean, it's Xander. Um, I hate to do this but, um, something kinda came up, and I can't make our date.” Cringing, he added, “You aren't too upset with me, are you?”
“Oh. No,” she said, but Xander had heard that tone before. He'd messed up big time, or well, really the Hellmouth had messed up for him.
“Look, I'll make it up to you, OK?” As Mr. Linebarger shouted from the sidelines, something about showing them how the game was really played, Xander saw him toss his walker away. “I gotta go,” rushed out of his mouth. As he was hanging up the phone, he shouted, “No! Mr. Linebarger, you need that to walk.” Ouch, that's gotta hurt, he thought as he rushed over to help. The old men on the court just stared. One dribbled the ball, making a monotonous twang... twang... twang as it hit the ground. “You know, you could help,” Xander said. None of them moved although some did start looking embarrassed.
“Ooooh, poor little baby fall down, go boom?”
“Hey look, you don't have to make fun–” Xander started as he turned to face the speaker. He registered the extreme bad boy look before he recognized the figure. “Mr. Giles, oh thank God!”
Giles grabbed him by the collar and pulled him in close. “That's Ripper, got it?” he growled, shoving Xander to the ground. “Not that I expect a little pisser like you to ever address me again.”
“Hey, come on. You said you'd get me coffee.” Buffy's mom grabbed Ripper by the arm and started dragging him away.
With a snort, and how did he manage to make that sound cool, Xander wondered, Ripper trailed off with Joyce. “There are better things to drink,” Xander heard, as they wandered away.
“OK,” Xander said as he raised himself off the ground. “How about we get you to the hospital?” he asked Mr. Linebarger. “Um,” he added as he thought through the logistics of carrying a man, whose hip was probably broken, all that way. “I'll just go call an ambulance.”
As Xander ran back to the pay phone, he was thinking, At least I can be sure Helen is human. No way the Hellmouth would have ruined our date if she were a demon.
Helen put down the phone, angry and hurt that Xander had canceled their date, but also feeling a bit relieved. She'd been having creepy thoughts all day, thoughts of Xander as a wolf, running by her side. It wouldn't be right to curse him like that. She needed someone to watch her back, someone as strong as she was. Who else but another werewolf is going to help you, whispered the voice in the back of her mind.
Helen bolted up from the couch as if the sudden movement would settle her thoughts. She paced nervously before grabbing a soda from the fridge. Control, she thought. I just need to control my thoughts. Yeah right. They've never been this wolf-like before, not on a night that wasn't a full moon. This is bad. What if I'm about to turn? Three more days till the full moon, but how do I know for sure it won't happen before then? Not like there's any place I can look it up. Shit, shit, shit, shit. Mom would clean my mouth out with soap if she heard me thinking like that. No worry. She'll never hear anything ever again. Blindly shoving the soda onto a table, Helen curled up and cried.
Oz walked to the doorway that led to a set of apartments above the antique shop. Just as he was about to climb the stairs, Mr. Nash came rushing down. “Oz,” Mr. Nash almost shouted as he spotted the young man. “Where have you been?”
“Out of town,” Oz shrugged. “Heard you were looking for me.”
“There's no time to waste,” Mr. Nash said stepping towards the door. “There are Jagers are in town.”
“Demon hunters?” Oz asked. “Seems like that'd be a good thing.”
“Not if they get to her first,” Mr. Nash said.
“Her?”
Holding the door open, Mr. Nash stared back at Oz. “If you'd kept in contact like you were supposed to, you'd know this already. There's a werewolf in town, a young woman. We can't let them get to her first.”
“Thought Jagers didn't hunt werewolves,” Oz asked.
“They don't track controlled werewolves.” Mr. Nash didn't notice that Oz winced at the word controlled. “But no Domuti has claimed Helen yet. We'll try her apartment,” Mr. Nash added. “God, I hope she's there. I've been waiting on this long enough.” His words had a slight accusatory tone that Oz seemed to ignore.
“So you haven't talked to her yet?”
“No. I had been waiting for you, but once I heard about the Jagers, I couldn't wait any longer. I was just heading out to find her.”
Worn out from crying, Helen dozed on the couch until she heard the front door open, She's home early, Helen thought as she sat up and rubbed at her eyes. Helen would have boggled to see Kris wearing anything as normal as a pink sweater and jeans, but one of the monsters from the club was standing next to Kris, with an arm around her waist. Walking over with a big grin on his face, he held out his hand and said, “Hi, I'm–” before Kris interrupted him.
“Helen, Rafe. Rafe, Helen.” As she cupped the crotch of his pants, Rafe jolted up taller, and, with a smile on his lips, allowed himself to be dragged to Kris's bedroom.
“No,” Helen shouted.
Kris gave her a blank stare and, after shoving Rafe into the bedroom, let into Helen. “Look, just because it's not your thing–“
Shit, what do I tell her? “Kris, you don't know this guy,” Helen whispered, pulling Kris over. “He could be an, well, like an ax murderer or something.”
Kris rolled her eyes. “Oh, grow up.” Turning her back on Helen, she made her way to the bedroom, ordering, “You. Naked. Now.” Rafe gave Helen a wink before the door closed between them.
Helen bolted for the front door, but stopped just shy of opening it. She couldn't leave Kris alone with a monster. Kris let out a loud moan and murmured something like “Oh baby!” Certain Kris would be furious if she barged into the bedroom, Helen ran out of the apartment, hoping the demon really didn't want anything more than it was getting. As Helen stumbled down the stairs, the walls seemed to be closing in on her, forcing her out into the night.
“Looks like she's not here,” Oz said.
Mr. Nash continued to pound on the door. “She's got to be here,” he shouted just as the door opened. Given how often Oz changed his hair color, you'd think Mr. Nash wouldn't even blink at magenta locks; instead he stood there, stammering without actually saying anything, although could have been because the girl was stark naked.
“What?” she shouted. “Can't you see I'm busy?” A blond man peeked out of a back door, saw the girl slam her hands onto her hips, and ducked back out of sight.
“We were looking for Helen,” Oz offered.
“Does it look like she's here?”
“Well, to be honest, we can't see much besides your–“ Oz started.
“She's gone,” the girl replied.
“Gone? She can't be gone,” Mr. Nash shouted, thinking the girl meant Helen had left town.
“Happen to know where?” Oz asked.
Her tits jiggled as she shrugged in response. Mr. Nash blushed and took a step back. Oz, used to extreme behavior from the girls Devon preferred, merely asked, “Know where?”
A voice called out from the back room. “Kris.”
With a smile, she glanced towards the sound of the voice. “Don't know. Gotta go. Bye.” She slammed the door shut.
“Great. Now what do we do?” Mr. Nash grumbled.
“Got an idea,” Oz said, heading down the stairs. As they stepped out onto the sidewalk, Oz sniffed at the air, pointed off to their left, and said, “That way.”
Characters:
Rating: PG-13
Concrit: Please, in comments
Disclaimer: They aren't mine, not yet, but the will be once I've taken over the world. Bwah-ha-ha.
Summary: There's a new female demon, a werewolf, in town. Guess who's attracted.
Note: This story is set around the time of “Band Candy”, but, in my version, Xander and Cordy have already broken up. Sorry. Basically I wrote the story and, in a later edit, decided I needed to associate it with a specific episode. “Band Candy” fit best in terms of time-line and demonic activity so I went with it despite the fact that Xander and Cordy were still an item then.
Note: Thanks to diebirchen, the most gracious Fairy Godmother of Verbal Usage, for the beta. All errors, of course, are entirely mine.
All chapters of this story can be found here.
* * *
Roach-Trap Hotel, Rafe thought as he walked across the parking lot. The place was a flea bag in the bad part of town, but that meant people didn't ask too many, or any, questions. Always a plus when out on assignment. After a quick knock, the door opened, and Rafe was relieved to see only Makoto and Sergeant Ramon. He'd been thinking on his walk back about how his snack joke had fallen flat and frightened the target. Tonya was not only the hardest of them to deceive, she wanted to make contact herself and so had the greatest incentive to stick him back in the van.
Start by throwing in a grenade to distract, he thought as he said, “The vampire, Angel, is working with the Slayer.”
“You're sure?” Sergeant Ramon asked.
“Met him tonight. He didn't deny the name when I tagged him,” Rafe replied. As he plopped down into a chair, he added, “They didn't let me make contact.”
“What interest do they have in the werewolf?” Makoto asked.
“I don't know that they do. Felt more like they'd pegged me as a demon.” He thought a minute and then added, “She didn't know them.”
“Right,” Sergeant Ramon said. “How about you get up early enough tomorrow that you can see where she's spending her days? Wayne hasn't found any records on her so, if she has found a job, she's getting paid off the books.”
“Makes sense,” Rafe replied. “It's what I'd do in her situation.”
“Except she doesn't have your training,” Sergeant Ramon replied.
“She's got to be concerned,” Makoto added. “The full moon is less than a week away.”
“How's she handling it?” Rafe asked.
“According to Tonya, she's probably aware of the problem, but largely in denial about it,” Makoto said.
“When Helen's family died, her grandmother kept her caged to keep the wolf under control. Her subconscious is probably hoping someone else will step in and take control again,” Makoto added, most likely summing up what Tonya had told him.
“So, we rush in like heroes and save the day,” Rafe summed up.
“With any luck,” Sergeant Ramon replied. “Tonya thinks she's started to developed some of her werewolf senses. She'd be an excellent asset if we can get her to trust us.”
“We get anything new?” Rafe asked, to get off of a topic that could swing back to how he'd messed up the initial contact.
“From the apartment number you gave him, Wayne turned up a roommate, a Kristine Sachs. He's got a file for you to review.”
“Yes, ma'am,” Rafe said. He knew a dismissal when he heard one.
* * *
Helen's bedroom was sparse: a lamp and an old futon mattress that some friend of Kris's had dug up. The walls and carpet were that dull off-white tone endemic to apartments, giving the room an almost generic look, as if it could belong to anyone and be almost anywhere.
Climbing onto the futon, Helen wrapped one of Kris's spare blankets around herself. Not human, not human, not human, ran through the back of her mind as she recalled Rafe, Angel, and Buffy. Monsters? Maybe. Probably. At least Xander isn't a monster. Not yet, whispered through her thoughts. “No,” she said back. “Never. I won't hurt him.” Then you'll be alone forever.
Sitting up, Helen turned on the lamp. Rummaging around in her backpack, she found a bottle of pills. Only two left. When she'd been living with her grandmother, the doctor had said they'd help her sleep. Helen took one, swallowing it down without water. Just like every time she dosed herself with the pills, Helen felt like she'd never sleep, and then she was out.
Opening her eyes to the scent of popcorn, Helen took in the light green walls of her childhood bedroom and wished she hadn't taken the pill. No, not this, she thought, already knowing there was nothing she could do to change any of it.
“Helen, Tracey, it's starting,” Mom yelled from the living room over the intro to America's Funniest Home Videos. Helen's body, back in Sunnydale, tossed on the futon as her mind relived the worst night of her life.
“I'll be out in a minute,” came her sister's voice from the bathroom.
“Run. Get out of here. It's coming to kill you”, Helen tried to shout, but all that came out was the same old complaint. “Why can't I watch over at Emma's?”
“Because you're grounded,” Mom replied, holding out the bowl of popcorn as an offering. As her heart sank at the sight of her family and the last bit of normal life she'd had with them, Helen watched herself grumpily take a handful of popcorn. When some of the kernels fell on the floor, she shrugged an apology, picked them up, and carried them into the kitchen to toss them out.
“Ooh, popcorn,” Tracey said, bouncing onto the couch.
Helen's feet carried her to the bathroom, but she turned back, as she always did in the nightmare, at the sound of wood splintering. It was the wolf. Then Helen could scream, but she still couldn't change anything. Dad grabbed the bat, the one Tracey had left out after practice, and ran straight at the wolf. Mom herded them into the back bedroom, closing the door behind, and almost threw them out the window. “Run,” she told them, but Helen stopped to wait for her. My fault, Helen's thoughts cried. If we'd run like Mom had said, maybe Tracey would still be alive. They heard more splintering, and then Mom, with one leg halfway out the window, was dragged back into the bedroom.
“Mooooom,” Tracey screamed. The wolf lunged up into the window. Grabbing Tracey's hand, Helen started running, but a slash of claws took her down. She closed her eyes in pain, still trying to crawl away from death. Then she heard the sound of gunshots.
Helen had blacked out then, when it had happened, but her nightmare filled in the details. She saw the wolf, wounded by bullets, dragging her sister off into the desert as it fled. Emma's father carried Helen back to his home so that she wouldn't wake with death and blood all around her. The wolf dragged Tracey into a cranny of a cave, her screams coming to an abrupt halt as it went for her throat. It chewed on her flesh until the body was no longer recognizable as Helen's sister.
* * *
Rafe, hidden by the chill of a dark alley, wished he hadn't drunk down his coffee so quickly, more for the warmth the cup would provide than anything else, although extra caffeine would be more than welcome. Wayne had insisted he be out, watching for Helen, by five in the goddamn morning. Rafe was certain he'd heard his brother laughing as he made his way out into the pre-dawn darkness. Not that Wayne had gone back to bed. He was in the van acting as backup with Makoto, but Wayne didn't mind the morning. Unnatural bastard.
Helen didn't make an appearance until a quarter to eight. Tracking her was trickier than Rafe had expected, which suggested Tonya was right that her wolf senses were kicking in. After she'd gone into an antique shop, Rafe waited fifteen minutes. If she were just shopping, she'd most likely be in and out quickly, but if this was her job, she'd have settled in by then and be easier to monitor.
Rafe looked back and forth to be sure the street was empty, before squatting down in front of the shop's display window, and peering into the store from behind the carved legs of some old table. It was difficult to track his subject, but he didn't want to be spotted until he had a firmer grasp of the situation. Of course he'd be terribly conspicuous if anyone walked by, but he was prepared to ramble on about the intricacies of the Queen Anne carvings on the table legs if need be. He hoped that if he did have to distract someone, they'd know as little about antiques as he did; he wasn't even sure there was such a thing as Queen Anne carvings.
Peering in between the table legs, he saw Helen talking to a man. Neither of them was exactly easy to see. The man was facing the back of the store, blocking Rafe's view of Helen. No use trying to talk to her until she was alone. He'd have to wait until the man, most likely the owner, either left or went into the back of the store.
Then the man turned, and Rafe almost gasped. Nash? How had that old Domuti gotten his claws into Helen so quickly? Scrambling until he was out of sight of the window and hoping he hadn't been spotted, Rafe raced to the van to report in.
* * *
At a phone booth next to the basketball court where the cool kids usually hung out, Xander waited for Helen to pick up. That night a bunch of parents had taken over the court. Xander was betting on one of them having a heart attack. His money was on Mr. Price. It couldn't be healthy for anyone's face to be that red.
“Hello?”
“Helen?” Xander asked.
“Yes,” she said, sounding wary.
“It's me. I mean, it's Xander. Um, I hate to do this but, um, something kinda came up, and I can't make our date.” Cringing, he added, “You aren't too upset with me, are you?”
“Oh. No,” she said, but Xander had heard that tone before. He'd messed up big time, or well, really the Hellmouth had messed up for him.
“Look, I'll make it up to you, OK?” As Mr. Linebarger shouted from the sidelines, something about showing them how the game was really played, Xander saw him toss his walker away. “I gotta go,” rushed out of his mouth. As he was hanging up the phone, he shouted, “No! Mr. Linebarger, you need that to walk.” Ouch, that's gotta hurt, he thought as he rushed over to help. The old men on the court just stared. One dribbled the ball, making a monotonous twang... twang... twang as it hit the ground. “You know, you could help,” Xander said. None of them moved although some did start looking embarrassed.
“Ooooh, poor little baby fall down, go boom?”
“Hey look, you don't have to make fun–” Xander started as he turned to face the speaker. He registered the extreme bad boy look before he recognized the figure. “Mr. Giles, oh thank God!”
Giles grabbed him by the collar and pulled him in close. “That's Ripper, got it?” he growled, shoving Xander to the ground. “Not that I expect a little pisser like you to ever address me again.”
“Hey, come on. You said you'd get me coffee.” Buffy's mom grabbed Ripper by the arm and started dragging him away.
With a snort, and how did he manage to make that sound cool, Xander wondered, Ripper trailed off with Joyce. “There are better things to drink,” Xander heard, as they wandered away.
“OK,” Xander said as he raised himself off the ground. “How about we get you to the hospital?” he asked Mr. Linebarger. “Um,” he added as he thought through the logistics of carrying a man, whose hip was probably broken, all that way. “I'll just go call an ambulance.”
As Xander ran back to the pay phone, he was thinking, At least I can be sure Helen is human. No way the Hellmouth would have ruined our date if she were a demon.
* * *
Helen put down the phone, angry and hurt that Xander had canceled their date, but also feeling a bit relieved. She'd been having creepy thoughts all day, thoughts of Xander as a wolf, running by her side. It wouldn't be right to curse him like that. She needed someone to watch her back, someone as strong as she was. Who else but another werewolf is going to help you, whispered the voice in the back of her mind.
Helen bolted up from the couch as if the sudden movement would settle her thoughts. She paced nervously before grabbing a soda from the fridge. Control, she thought. I just need to control my thoughts. Yeah right. They've never been this wolf-like before, not on a night that wasn't a full moon. This is bad. What if I'm about to turn? Three more days till the full moon, but how do I know for sure it won't happen before then? Not like there's any place I can look it up. Shit, shit, shit, shit. Mom would clean my mouth out with soap if she heard me thinking like that. No worry. She'll never hear anything ever again. Blindly shoving the soda onto a table, Helen curled up and cried.
* * *
Oz walked to the doorway that led to a set of apartments above the antique shop. Just as he was about to climb the stairs, Mr. Nash came rushing down. “Oz,” Mr. Nash almost shouted as he spotted the young man. “Where have you been?”
“Out of town,” Oz shrugged. “Heard you were looking for me.”
“There's no time to waste,” Mr. Nash said stepping towards the door. “There are Jagers are in town.”
“Demon hunters?” Oz asked. “Seems like that'd be a good thing.”
“Not if they get to her first,” Mr. Nash said.
“Her?”
Holding the door open, Mr. Nash stared back at Oz. “If you'd kept in contact like you were supposed to, you'd know this already. There's a werewolf in town, a young woman. We can't let them get to her first.”
“Thought Jagers didn't hunt werewolves,” Oz asked.
“They don't track controlled werewolves.” Mr. Nash didn't notice that Oz winced at the word controlled. “But no Domuti has claimed Helen yet. We'll try her apartment,” Mr. Nash added. “God, I hope she's there. I've been waiting on this long enough.” His words had a slight accusatory tone that Oz seemed to ignore.
“So you haven't talked to her yet?”
“No. I had been waiting for you, but once I heard about the Jagers, I couldn't wait any longer. I was just heading out to find her.”
* * *
Worn out from crying, Helen dozed on the couch until she heard the front door open, She's home early, Helen thought as she sat up and rubbed at her eyes. Helen would have boggled to see Kris wearing anything as normal as a pink sweater and jeans, but one of the monsters from the club was standing next to Kris, with an arm around her waist. Walking over with a big grin on his face, he held out his hand and said, “Hi, I'm–” before Kris interrupted him.
“Helen, Rafe. Rafe, Helen.” As she cupped the crotch of his pants, Rafe jolted up taller, and, with a smile on his lips, allowed himself to be dragged to Kris's bedroom.
“No,” Helen shouted.
Kris gave her a blank stare and, after shoving Rafe into the bedroom, let into Helen. “Look, just because it's not your thing–“
Shit, what do I tell her? “Kris, you don't know this guy,” Helen whispered, pulling Kris over. “He could be an, well, like an ax murderer or something.”
Kris rolled her eyes. “Oh, grow up.” Turning her back on Helen, she made her way to the bedroom, ordering, “You. Naked. Now.” Rafe gave Helen a wink before the door closed between them.
Helen bolted for the front door, but stopped just shy of opening it. She couldn't leave Kris alone with a monster. Kris let out a loud moan and murmured something like “Oh baby!” Certain Kris would be furious if she barged into the bedroom, Helen ran out of the apartment, hoping the demon really didn't want anything more than it was getting. As Helen stumbled down the stairs, the walls seemed to be closing in on her, forcing her out into the night.
* * *
“Looks like she's not here,” Oz said.
Mr. Nash continued to pound on the door. “She's got to be here,” he shouted just as the door opened. Given how often Oz changed his hair color, you'd think Mr. Nash wouldn't even blink at magenta locks; instead he stood there, stammering without actually saying anything, although could have been because the girl was stark naked.
“What?” she shouted. “Can't you see I'm busy?” A blond man peeked out of a back door, saw the girl slam her hands onto her hips, and ducked back out of sight.
“We were looking for Helen,” Oz offered.
“Does it look like she's here?”
“Well, to be honest, we can't see much besides your–“ Oz started.
“She's gone,” the girl replied.
“Gone? She can't be gone,” Mr. Nash shouted, thinking the girl meant Helen had left town.
“Happen to know where?” Oz asked.
Her tits jiggled as she shrugged in response. Mr. Nash blushed and took a step back. Oz, used to extreme behavior from the girls Devon preferred, merely asked, “Know where?”
A voice called out from the back room. “Kris.”
With a smile, she glanced towards the sound of the voice. “Don't know. Gotta go. Bye.” She slammed the door shut.
“Great. Now what do we do?” Mr. Nash grumbled.
“Got an idea,” Oz said, heading down the stairs. As they stepped out onto the sidewalk, Oz sniffed at the air, pointed off to their left, and said, “That way.”
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2010-08-21 12:52 am (UTC):-)
FGoVU
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Date: 2010-08-21 01:39 am (UTC)And pinky swearing! Have you read my chapter for Amnesia!Spike (http://dragonyphoenix.livejournal.com/22667.html)? He steps Angel through pinky swearing. ;-)
Although you really should read Amnesia!Spike (http://www.angelfire.com/fang/grimoires/arvs/mahaliem/amnesiaspike.html) first since my chapter into the middle of that story. It is a most excellent story.
no subject
Date: 2010-08-21 02:44 am (UTC):-)
FGoVU (the now known quantity)
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Date: 2010-08-29 08:54 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-08-29 09:47 pm (UTC)