When the phone rang, Connor looked up from his books and growled. It was a distinctive growl. In Quar’Toth, it had meant to tell demons “This is my food.” Since the phone often rang while Connor was eating, and therefore kept him from his food, the growl became associated with the telephone.
“No growling at the phone,” Fred said. “In fact, no growling at all.”
Connor stuck his tongue out mockingly and Fred mirrored the gesture. “Go get it,” she said. “It’s probably your dad.”
It had been about a year since Connor returned to the hotel and things were still settling back to normal. Connor was trying to come to terms with Angel and Cordelia, but that was complicated because even they were still trying to define their relationship. Gunn’s on-again, off-again feelings for Fred made Wes-Fred-Gunn the hotel’s other love triangle. “We need to import some more women,” Lorne was always saying. Connor secretly hoped Faith would come back. She’d gone back to Boston six months ago.
Connor hopped up and grabbed the phone. “Angel Investigations. We hope the helpless . . . what? . . . That’s what I said . . . well that’s what I meant!” Connor listened a beat more, then exasperatedly handed the phone to Fred. “Client,” he said in a bored tone.
“That was a client you were talking to?” Fred said, taking the phone.
Connor sat down and went back to his books. Fred was helping Connor prepare for his G.E.D., a substitute for a high school diploma. Angel thought it would be good if Connor were around people his own age. Fred suggested he take some classes at a community college. She wasn’t aware that, in making that suggestion, she was volunteering to tutor Connor.
The chore of tutoring Connor quickly became a nice break from the monotony of fighting demons. Fred looked forward to it. It didn’t hurt that her pupil was surprisingly well read and much more intelligent than some of his dumber actions would suggest. He read extremely quickly and had almost complete retention of the information conveyed by the pages. His one weakness was math.
“Hey, how’s my guy doing?” Fred asked when she finished the phone call.
“He’s doing algebra and it sucks.”
“I know math can be a pain, but you’ve gone through seven years worth in six months, so maybe you should come to terms with the fact that you’re pretty good at it.”
“Twelve year olds know more math than I do!” Connor said angrily.
“Yeah,” Fred said. “But it took them seven years to learn it. Again, I return to my six months remark.”
Fred looked at Connor’s left wrist. It was bandaged. “Is that still from the vampire three weeks ago?”
Connor pulled the arm down nervously. “Yeah,” he said with an embarrassed look.
“Can I take a look at it?” Fred asked.
“Why? Afraid there’s a needle mark there?”
“Honestly,” Fred said. “Yes. I’m a little afraid of that.”
Connor unwrapped the wrist and showed the bite mark to her.
“You usually heel faster than this,” Fred said.
“Yeah, she really got in there.”
“She?” Fred asked. “I thought the vamp who bit your wrist was a guy?”
“Was it? I don’t remember. Well, guy or girl, it’s nothing but dust now.”
“Looks like we have a possible haunting on the other side of town,” Fred said. “I was going to wait for Wes, but--”
“No,” Connor interrupted. “You’re just as smart as him. Smarter. We can do it.”
Fred blushed slightly at the compliment. “Okay. Let me grab a reference book and we’ll go.”
†
Angel was moving through the sewers, his cell phone cutting in and out. “I didn’t get that, Gunn. Where?”
“Nor . . . leh . . . turn on . . .”
“Okay,” Angel said. “That makes perfect sense.”
It was still day and the vampire couldn’t go above ground.
“Neert . . . bzzzt . . . station.”
“Train station,” Angel said. “Right.”
Angel came above ground in the train station.
“Angel?” Wesley asked. “What are you doing here? I told Gunn to let you know the train station was a dead end.”
“Ohhh,” Angel said. “That’s what he was saying about the train station.” Angel looked around. “Well, still. Tell me what you got.”
“Train came from New York,” Wesley said. “Looks like it was probably a pack of vampires. But other than that I haven’t . . . what?”
Angel had stepped away form Wesley and stopped listening to him. He was leaning toward the train and sniffing the air. “It wasn’t vampires,” Angel said. “It was just one.”
“Angel, I doubt a single vampire could--”
“It was her,” Angel said. “I know it was her.”
“Her?” Wes asked. “Her who?”
“Drusilla.”
†
“This is the house?” Connor asked. “It looks so normal.”
“Not all haunted houses are spooky old mansions,” Fred said. “Still, I take all these alerts with a grain of salt since Charles and I investigated one that turned out to be rats.”
“Wow. Did you keep any?”
“Keep any what?”
“Rats.”
“I’m not even going to ask about that one,” Fred answered as she rang the doorbell.
The woman answered the door nervously.
“I’m Fred Burkle and this is my associate Connor. We’re from--”
“You are from Angel Investigations?” the woman asked looking back and forth between them. “My twelve year old son weighs more than either of you.”
“He should cut back on fats and carbs,” Connor offered.
“Look, ma’am,” Fred said in her sweet Texas way. “Weight issues aside, we’re used to dealing with these things. So you can have us in or you can call the next number on your ghost busters list.”
The woman frowned and stepped aside. “It’s in the basement. My son said he felt something down there. A presence. We thought he was crazy but . . . things have happened. Strange occurrences.”
“So how do we kill this thing?” Connor asked.
“It’s a ghost, Connor,” Fred smiled. “It’s already dead.”
“Well then it should stop making occurrences . . . um . . . occur.”
Fred laughed. “That’s why we’re here.” She could see the woman’s faith was slipping away. “He’s better at fighting demons.” She looked at the basement door. “Guess we better go on down.”
Connor led the way down the basement with Fred behind him. “You and Gunn . . . are you two getting back together?”
“That’s none of your business, young man.”
“You know, I have really good hearing. So I could always totally hear when you two would . . . you know.”
Fred blushed, but Connor didn’t notice as he was in front of her.
“I just want to know if I should steal some ear plugs from the drug store,” Connor continued.
“Steal?” Fred said offended.
“Sorry. I meant to say buy some ear plugs.”
“That’s better.”
“With money I steal from dad’s wallet.”
“Connor!” Fred laughed. After months of tutoring him, she was starting to get his sense of humor. It was kind of scary, really, that she could find jokes about disembowelment funny. But the kid grew up in a hell dimension. His sense of humor would have to tend toward the dark.
“I don’t like Gunn,” Connor said.
“I’m shocked,” Fred said in a deadpan voice.
“He started it by not liking me.”.
“Because you lied to us about sinking Angel.”
“Because you lied to me about Angel going to see Holtz.”
Fred froze. “I . . . I was always sorry I did that.”
Connor looked back at Fred and gave a bitter kind of laugh. “Yeah. Wes is sorry for stealing me. You’re sorry for lying. Angel’s sorry for throwing me out. Cordy’s sorry for fucking me. I’m sorry for . . . you know. My stuff.” He turned forward again. “Everybody’s sorry for something.”
Fred wanted to change the subject quickly. Even her love life would be a better topic. “Well, I guess Wesley will be happy to hear your thoughts on Charles.”
“I don’t like him either. Pompous.”
“Wow. There’s just no one good enough for me, is there?”
Connor looked back and smiled slightly. “Well . . . maybe someone. Just not them.”
Connor and Fred were so distracted by this odd moment, that neither noticed the book fly across the room toward Connor’s head.
†
“Cordy, I need Fred,” Angel said as he stormed through the sewers.
“She went out,” Cordy said, picking up the note Fred left. “Took Connor to a natural history museum.” Fred wasn’t sure why, but at the time she didn’t want to leave a note saying she and Connor went to a haunted house.
“Can you do computer stuff?” Angel asked.
“What kind of computer stuff?”
“I need to find an old fashioned home or apartment that’s been rented in the last couple days. It’s a thin lead, but it’s the best I can think up.”
“Why? What’s going on?”
“Drusilla,” Angel answered.
“Oh.”
“I’m trying to figure out where she might be staying.”
“I can’t tell you where she’s staying,” Cordy said as she backed toward the door. “But I know where she is.”
“Where?” Angel asked.
“Coming up the basement stairs into the lobby.” Cordy stumbled backward through the door and flopped onto the ground in the sunlight outside.
Dru laughed as she walked across the lobby to the door Cordy exited
Lorne stepped out of the lounge and downed his drink. “Oh boy,” he said, seeing Dru. “This isn’t going to be good.”
Drusilla turned to Lorne. “’ello, my darling.”
†
“Read!” Connor yelled.
Fred didn’t think Connor would be much use in the vanquishing of a ghost, but as he frantically swatted down the items the ghost was propelling at her, she reassessed his value in the endeavor.
“I’m trying,” Fred said. “If I read the wrong passage, I make it corporeal. And we don’t want that.” Fred continued scanning the pages, trying to identify the type of specter they faced.
“Danna hassa mo gahatti,” Fred shouted. She smiled as the torrent of flying items dropped to the ground. “There. That did it.”
“Um, Fred,” Connor said, pointing to the corner. “Wrong passage.”
A swirl of grey mist was collecting. It spun about until it formed a solid mass wrapped in bandages.
“Ohhhh,” Fred said, flipping through the book. “It’s Egyptian. You’d think anyone who acquired a stolen Egyptian artifact would tell us that when they asked us to investigate-”
“I’d love to hear about this,” Connor said, grabbing a hammer and screwdriver out of a nearby toolbox. “But this is my part of the job.”
Connor swung into action with his two undersized weapons.
†
“You,” Drusilla said as she approached Lorne. “You’re like me. You hear the songs others can’t. You can tell me what vexes me so. Spinning about my mind like so many tweeting birds. No. Only one bird. She hums to me. Tells me to do things. But I cannot understand.”
“I have no doubt you have voices in your head telling you to do things,” Lorne said. “But I’m not really sure I can help you with that.”
“Gran mum says I have a baby brother who should be safe in his crib. But no, no. Naughty baby crawled away and has gotten himself so lost. I like him lost. But she whispers, whispers, whispers. I must be a good big sister and take him home. She says none of you know where to find him.”
Lorne looked at Drusilla oddly. Part of what she said almost made sense to him. That kind of scared him.
“You all think he’s safe,” she continued as she wandered absentmindedly away from Lorne toward the office. “But there is darkness still. Lovely darkness. And yet, gran mum says I musn’t play.”
“Drusilla,” Lorne started cautiously.
“Enough!” she shouted. “I smell him here. But he’s not here. Where is he?”
“I’m right here.”
Drusilla turned and smiled as she saw Angel.
“Naughty daddy. All your children have run astray.”
Lorne took advantage of the distraction to bolt for the door. Angel charged Drusilla. She quickly grabbed him and spun him, throwing him into the counter. She leapt on top of him and put her face to him.
“Tell him!” she said in a desperate voice that, oddly enough, had an American accent. “Before it’s too late. For the love of God, Angel, tell him!”
Drusilla backed away from him and grabbed her head. “No! No! No! Out of my head. You cannot have me, naughty woman.” Drusilla collapsed to the floor and started weeping. “All my family has left me alone to play with sunflowers.”
Angel was confused. He stepped cautiously toward Drusilla. “Dru. Dru, what’s going on?”
Drusilla hissed at him. “You can’t hide him forever.” She turned and ran back to the basement. Angel tried chasing her, but she slipped into the sewer. It was getting dark and he didn’t want to risk her circling back and getting Cordy when he wasn’t there.
“Cordy,” Angel yelled, returning to the lobby. “Cordy, are you okay?”
“I’m good,” she said, coming into the hotel and hugging him. “I’m good.”
†
Connor lit a cigarette as he collapsed to the floor next to the mess of rags on his right.
“That is one of the grossest things I’ve ever seen,” Fred said, referring to Connor’s slow dispatching of the mummy with a hammer and screw driver.
“By Quor’Toth standards, that was actually pretty tame.” He took another drag.
“I guess it would be,” Fred said, sitting next to him. “Sometimes I think we take for granted how good a fighter you are.”
“Yeah,” Connor smiled, his face glowing with both pride and embarrassment. “I’m a better fighter than Gunn, and fighting’s his job.”
Fred bit her lip. She didn’t want to compare people, even if Connor was right. She had a fresh understanding of Gunn’s insecurities. He considered himself the muscle and he wasn’t even the best at it. Both Angel and Connor were better warriors than he was.
“And if I keep studying, I’ll be even smarter than Wesley. Right?”
“Yeah,” Fred smiled. For some reason, this comparison didn’t upset her as much.
Connor smiled. “Something to think about. Best of both worlds. Or both guys, any way.”
“We need to get back to the hotel,” Fred said, ignoring his last comment. She was sure Connor was just teasing. Or at least she hoped he was.
Connor stood and pulled Fred up. When she got to her feet, she was eye to eye with him.
“You’re hurt,” she said, noticing bloody spots on his shirt that had soaked through from the inside. It had been difficult to see among the darker red of the mummy’s ‘blood’.
“It’ll heal,” he said.
She looked at his wrist. “The vamp bite isn’t healing well.”
“That’s different.”
“How?”
“I don’t know,” he said with a laugh and a slight grin.
Fred laughed and looked away blushing.
“What?” he asked.
“You have a nice smile. It’s the kind of smile that lights up the room. I used to think that was just because you did it so infrequently. But it’s really nice.”
Connor smiled proudly. “You like my smile?”
“We need to get back,” Fred said again.
†
Lorne spit his drink out when he saw Fred and Connor enter.
“I’m going to patrol,” Connor said, heading for the stairs right away.
“Alone?” Cordy asked.
“You’re not my mother,” Connor said without looking back.
“One step back for every two forward,” Cordy frowned.
“At least he’s moving in the right direction,” Fred offered.
Lorne grabbed Fred’s hand and tugged it slightly, indicating he wanted a word alone.
“Any idea what brought Drusilla to the hotel?” Wes asked as he came out of the office. He looked up when he wasn’t answered. “Lorne?”
“What?” Lorne asked. He processed what Wes had asked. “Wha, she uh . . . I don’t know, Wes. Her aura was all tangled up. Conflicting even. I gotta get a drink.”
Lorne pulled Fred into the lounge. “Speaking of screwed up auras, what the hell’s wrong with you?!”
“What?” Fred asked. She glanced back to make sure the door was closed.
“Oh, save it sister. Lie to the others. Lie to Connor. You can even lie to yourself. But you can’t lie to me! Do you have any idea . . .” Lorne took a deep breath and tried to pull himself together.
“Lorne, I . . .” Fred sat at a table. “I’d never do anything to hurt him. Between Charles and Wesley, I have enough problems for one boney, modestly attractive girl.”
Lorne sat next to her. “I understand. I really do. It’s the forbidden. In L.A., no one batted an eye. But I’m betting back in Texas, the general public wouldn’t have been too accepting of you and Gunn.”
“What? Maybe, I guess.”
“And then Wes. He was dark and broody. And plus, it was forbidden because you were already with someone.”
Fred looked down. She didn’t want to own up to that, but knew Lorne was right.
“And now, you’ve got a younger guy slash teacher-pupil thing. Plus, he’s Angel’s son. And a little bit crazy.”
“I thought you were going to cut him a little slack.”
“No,” Lorne protested. “I’m going to cut him a lot of slack. After seeing what that kid . . . well, enough about that. Doesn’t change the fact that the last girl in this hotel who dated him wound up comatose and wrapped in explosives.”
Fred rolled her eyes. “He’s not like that anymore.”
“But he’s not exactly stable, yet, either.”
“Lorne . . . there’s nothing between us. And it’s going to stay that way.” Fred stormed to the door, then turned back. “But for the record, Connor is fine!”
†
Connor walked down the alley, occasionally glancing behind him to see if he was being followed. He knew from sound and scent that he was alone, but he always got paranoid around here. Mostly it was guilt. He hated coming here. He hated giving into the craving. But it wasn’t like he was hurting anyone. Not really.
Connor knew what Fred wanted to talk to him about. He asked to put it off until after his ‘patrol’. Then he’d put it off indefinitely.
Connor entered the sleazy hotel and Miranda smiled. “This one’s mine, girls,” she said as she rose from the couch and took Connor’s hand. Miranda was beautiful and usually took only obnoxiously handsome men. The others wondered what it was she saw in Connor. He was cute in a boyish kind of way, but Miranda usually preferred more masculine types.
“I hate coming here,” Connor said as they entered her room.
“Then why do you keep coming back?” Miranda laughed.
“It’s just one last time.”
“Not the first time we heard that.” Miranda kissed Connor’s neck and he winced. “Relax,” she whispered. “I’ll warn you before we start.”
“We have to do it somewhere new, this time. My friends are asking questions.”
“Not a problem,” Miranda whispered as she unbuckled his pants. She pushed Connor into a chair and pulled his pants off. “Sit back,” she whispered as she kneeled before him. “Relax.” She kissed and licked the inside of his leg up to his inner thigh.
Connor shuddered a she cold tongue made its way toward his cock.
“How about here?” she asked.
Connor was now leaning back in a reclining chair with his eyes closed. He smiled as he felt Miranda’s moist tongue on his thigh just below his balls. “Yeah,” he whispered. “That’s perfect.”
Miranda vamped to her game face and buried her fangs in Connor’s thigh.
“Argh,” Connor clenched his teeth. Just like shooting heroin, it always hurt at first when this foreign thing stabbed into him. “Agghhhh,” he sighed as the pain subsided and the euphoria came.
“Agh, yeah.” Connor smiled. “That’s it,” he whispered. “That’s it.”
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