Title: Our Sons and Daughters
Chapter Title: One By One
Author: Baby Blues
E-mail: purely_blissful@hotmail.com
Rated: R
Disclaimer: Characters are not mine, except for the children and the story.
Summary: Angel gets a taste of each individual. More drama.
Dedication: To Tina, ’cause I think she’s super awesome and ‘cause I love her. Whohoo! *start singin’* hip, hip, hop . . . what was that again? *lol*
Excerpt:
~Angel: You can’t just leave them here and walk out . . . There’s eight of them out there!
~Whistler: They’re only children, Angel . . . And plus, they’re not evil or anything. They’re not here to try and kill you in your sleep if that’s what you’re worried about.
~Angel: Well that just puts my fears aside.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 |
The demon nodded, sighed, grabbed his mug, gulped down the rest of his coffee, and moved towards the coffee pot to get some more. “Austin’s the oldest at 21. Also the wisest. He grew up with the Powers.” “The Powers? The Powers That Be?” Angel frowned. “To make a really long story short, remember the Forgotten Day?” Angel nodded hesitantly, already knowing what he was about to say. It didn’t take a genius to find out, but Angel still dad to hear it. There were so many memories of that day, so many. And he had taken it all back. And with what Whistler was telling him . . . “You and Buffy conceived a child that day.” Angel collapsed on his chair, gripping the table so hard that the edge broke off in bits of plastic and wood. There was the news he feared. He fought back the tears and the growing pain that consumed his body, engulfing him in torrent waves of grief. Not only had he given back Buffy for the good of the future . . . he had also given up his son as well. |
Whistler shook his head and turned to look at Angel. “I know what you’re thinking, Angel. Don’t mentally beat yourself up over this. You had to do what you had to do.”
“But she died anyway,” Angel said in a low and dangerous tone.
“But she came back. That’s what matters.” Whistler returned to his seat and once again poured more spoons of sugar into the concoction than necessary. “Austin didn’t suffer there with the High ‘n Mighties. They treated the kid like a prince. The boy even had servants.”
Angel stared at him. “But he could’ve been here . . . with me, with his mother,” he said, trying to fight off the many images that attacked his mind; Buffy holding a baby in her arms while she rocked him to sleep, Buffy, Angel, and a handsome toddler in a picnic in the park, Angel dropping off a rambunctious little boy off to school, Buffy and Angel teaching a 16 year old teenager how to drive . . . Angel paused. Okay, that thought wasn’t as pleasant, but the idea of watching that teenager grow into a man and graduating college at Harvard more than made up for it.
Whistler folded his hands on the table. “And what would you have done? Stayed home and change his diapers while Buffy fought on the night?” He shook his head and went back to his coffee, “You would have been completely powerless. Austin would have been dead before he could say ‘Mama.’ ”
“Well, he didn’t, did he?” Angel snapped. Whistler sighed and the vampire frowned. “Are you saying that what I did was supposed to happen? That I did the right thing? For myself? For Buffy . . . for Austin?”
“As corny as it sounds, Angel, everything happens for a reason,” the demon replied. “Austin was destined to be with the PTB. He was treated like a God without it ever getting to his head, and he grew up with wisdom and knowledge beyond your imagination.”
Angel grew angry. How dare the Powers try to take his right as a father? He fought for them and they took away his future with Buffy and the son he never knew. Four years, the child would’ve been three by now if he hadn’t turned back the clock on that day.
Whistler read his thoughts. “He watched you every moment he could get. Watched moments of Buffy’s life as well as yours.” Whistler smiled, “He may not have been here with you physically, but the boy was here. He had cried, laughed, and shared moments with both his mother and father . . . whether they were together or apart. He saw your victories and defeats, your lives and your deaths. He saw it all and experienced it all with you.”
Angel sat back on his chair, some of his anger diminishing. “And now he’s here.”
Whistler nodded. “And to stay for good. Austin will definitely be one permanent fixture you won’t mind having.” He paused, “He’s a good kid, Angel. You’ll really be proud of that one. Even tempered and kind with the ability to take control . . . as you clearly saw.”
Angel couldn’t help but smile. It sounded all too familiar. “Like Buffy.”
“Like Buffy.”
Angel’s smile widened. He saw it in the boy. The gentleness, the spark, the sincerity. It spoke volumes of who he belonged to.
“He’s here because he needs a family. A chance to make up for lost time. I have a feeling he won’t give you much trouble. After all, he has the wisdom of the Powers. But too smart for his own good. Reminding me of someone else I know,” Whistler said pointedly.
Angel laughed lightly at that. “How about the others?”
 |
Whistler took a deep breath and let it out. “Aiden.” One name said it all, and Angel already had an idea. “He’s a handful.” “Yeah, and friendly too.” “Don’t condemn him for that, Angel,” Whistler said stoically. “Aiden lived a hard life. I feel like I have no right to tell anyone about his past. I want to give him the chance to one day tell you or even Buffy what had happened. The least I can give him is that. The chance to say it in his own time.” “It’s not gonna be pretty, is it?” Whistler nodded. “Fate has handed him bad cards throughout his 19 years. He may be a Mini Spike . . . egotistical, proud, and as cocky as hell but . . . beneath all that is one hurt kid. Don’t let him push you away. And once Spike gets here . . . ” |
“Whoa . . . ” Angel said, hands up in the air, “Spike? I’m still trying to get used to the idea of Buffy being here and now you wanna throw Spike in there as well?”
“Just listen, Angel,” Whistler said. “A lot of things will happen in the upcoming months. Let me just warn you now while I’m still here. You can have your pity party later . . . when I’m well away and gone.”
Angel glared at him but nodded, uncertain.
“Spike, at this moment, is on the brink of self-destruction. He doesn’t need to be blamed by a child from another dimension who was raised by another Spike. A Spike who’s a world different from himself. And he needs to know that.”
Angel rubbed his face and looked at him. He had sensed Aiden’s troubles. His personality more than made it clear. It was like a big neon sign in Vegas. And the thought of having to deal with that was not just terrifying, but exhausting. “As I told you before, I’m already having difficulties with Connor. Another reproduction of Spike will kill me. Permanently.”
Whistler chuckled. “You’ll do fine with him,” he assured, even though he didn’t know himself. “He may be a dick sometimes but his humor will amuse you if not drive you insane once in a while.”
“That helps a lot.”
“He needs a father figure, and I have a feeling he’ll be turning to you more than he’ll turn to Spike,” Whistler informed him, getting up for more coffee, “There are just some things that can’t be healed. Sometimes it scars, and it leaves a reminder. That will be Aiden’s biggest fault.”
“What about Buffy? His mother?”
Whistler shrugged. “I’m not really sure what happened. From what I gathered, she left him and Spike when Aiden was only a baby. At least, that’s what I’ve concluded.” Whistler smiled. “Buffy’s gonna find herself with a big fan when she gets here.”
Angel frowned. “Why do you say that?”
“If Buffy did leave him and Spike, Aiden was never bitter about it, surprisingly. He never knew her except from his prized collection of her journals he considers as Bibles. He’s put her on a pedestal. She’s a goddess to him, the epitome of good and everything sacred. He’s gonna be a Momma’s Boy. I can feel it,” Whistler smiled at the thought of Aiden, an arrogant son of a bitch, bending to Buffy’s will like a slave. Somehow, it just sounded too good to be true.
Angel smiled. “I understand how that is . . . completely.”
Whistler chuckled and returned to his seat.
| “The next ones are Liam and Eliza. Twins.” “There’s something about the two of them that I can’t seem to put my finger on,” Angel confided. Whistler became silent and his gaze wavered from the vampire to the coffee cup and finally just staying there, seemingly having a sick fascination with the steam rising to disappear in the air. “You’re fighting to tell me something.” “I don’t know all the gritty details of how or even why but . . . ” Whistler sighed and gazed at the door as though he was waiting for them to suddenly appear, “ . . . They’re not exactly yours either.” |
 |
“Whose are they? Xander’s?” Angel chuckled lightly at the thought. Buffy may have strayed in a few dimensions with Spike but . . . Xander? He mentally laughed again. No way . . . Whistler said nothing and Angel’s amused expression fell faster than a dress on prom night. “Please tell me it’s not Xander,” he begged, wanting to get up from his seat to kneel on the linoleum floor.
Whistler shook his head, almost looking disgusted as well. “No.”
Angel sighed in relief, but was still tense as he asked, “Then whose are they?”
“Buffy and . . . Angelus.”
“Dear God,” Angel whispered.
“That’s what I said.”
Angel stared at the table with shock written all over his face. No wonder he felt more than just deja-vu, but sensed a tiny bit of dangerous familiarity that gave him the chills and sent his blood freezing with a tinge of dread. He didn’t know how to make of this new twist. Angel knew he was different from his demon, his soul changes his body . . . even if it was only in the slightest. But Angelus’ blood ran in those kids' veins. Pure demon blood, and Angel wondered what that meant for the two teenagers.
“Buffy killed Angelus before he found out she was pregnant. This was during Season 2,” the demon’s eyes widened when Angel gave him a questioning look. “I mean, it was during that whole thing with Acathla. Buffy and Angelus gave into some unbound desires. You know how that goes.”
Angel frowned. The thought of Buffy falling into Angelus’ bed made him shiver . . . and jealous as hell, but now was not the time to get all hussy over it. Nothing happened here, in this dimension . . . or so he remembered . . .
“Anyhow, Buffy raised them in LA as best she could . . . but died when they were eleven,” Whistler said sadly, and causing Angel’s stomach to churn painfully, Buffy’s death just that summer still fresh in his mind and heart. “The Watcher’s Council got a hold of them after that,” the demon shook his head, “They kept them for two years for ‘observation.’ They didn’t want Mini Angeluses running around,” he snorted. Angel clenched his fists in fury. The Council had struck again. “Giles finally got a hold of them and brought them to Sunnydale. They’re 18 now.”
Angel turned his head, his troubled eyes looking out the door as though he could feel their torment. The death Buffy had been hard on them, he could sense that in their weary eyes. But what bothered them the most, he could tell, was the fact that Angelus was their father. It left doubts and fear. Angel couldn’t blame them, he felt the demon’s presence in him all day.
“They’re inseparable. I sometimes worry that they depend on each other too much,” Whistler voiced his concern, “It’s not healthy even though they’re twins. They need to trust and let in others once in a while.”
Angel nodded in agreement.
 |
“Brooke is another youngen of Buffy and Spike’s. Though definitely not as bad as Aiden,” Whistler declared. “In her world, Buffy and Spike divorced when she was 8. A year later, you and Buffy married. Brooke never really got over that,” Whistler said disappointedly, feeling pity towards the girl even though he would never voice it out. Brooke had too much pride for that. “In her eyes, Buffy betrayed her father, and you helped her.” “So I shouldn’t be surprised if she calls me a Poof,” Angel said, almost smiling at the thought of the petite blonde who reminded him too much of Buffy calling him every nickname Spike has been known to give him. “Yeah. And better watch out for Aiden too. He tends to be more lippy when it comes to that,” Whistler smirked, but quickly sobered, “She’s bitter, Angel, and pissed off like no other. She wanted that normal life Buffy had always dreamed about, but to her, it was taken away by Buffy, herself.” Whistler looked serious, “Buffy loved you there, even after she married Spike who became human by chance. But when you got your Shanshu, you weren’t going to stand by and hope another lass would capture your heart.” “I know how that is.” “So did Buffy . . . as well as Spike.” |
“Spike?” Angel asked in surprise.
Whistler nodded. “He loved Buffy that much and understood that he would hurt more if she did love you and continued staying with him just because it was the right thing to do.”
Angel couldn’t blame him. No matter how hard it would be, he would’ve done the same thing.
“Brooke doesn’t understand the matters of the heart. That’s one of her faults, and one thing she needs to learn . . . that love is love . . . there’s nothing in between, and there’s no way around it.”
“There’s no gray in her world,” Angel concluded then.
“Only white and black,” Whistler confirmed. “And her father’s her hero.”
“And I bet Spike’s done everything in his power to make sure that Buffy and Angel were seen at a bad lighting,” Angel smiled sardonically.
Whistler unexpectedly shook his head. “He didn’t have to. Brooke has her own mind, Angel. She didn’t need her father for her to come up with her own opinions and conclusions. She just needed excuses. Any excuse down from Buffy being too much of a lovesick schoolgirl to you having too much of a big forehead.” Angel glared at him coldly. “You have no idea what divorce can do to a child.”
“I have some idea,” Angel said, remembering the time when he had watched Buffy crying dejectedly in the bathroom while her parents fought about her going out with Tyler. He knew, even though Buffy never talked about it, that her parents destroyed a part of her. Part of that security and love a child needs that could only come straight from his or her parents. Buffy may not have reacted exactly the way Brooke did, but the result was the same.
“But beneath all that, she’s too much like Buffy,” Whistler smirked, “And the best part is . . . she doesn’t even realize it.” Whistler sipped his coffee. “When I found her, she was beating the crap out of a Lyxus demon. Man, does she have some quips to put Buffy to shame.”
Angel laughed at that, remembering Buffy’s tendency to talk to her kill as though they care what she's saying. Especially vampire fledglings who are too young to really understand anything beyond eating and killing whenever they’re on the hunt.
“She’s an awesome fighter. Almost staked my ass too,” Whistler shook his head, “Took me a while to convince her that I wasn’t there to cause any trouble. I think I still have the bruises to prove it.”
“Is she gonna be a handful too?” the vampire naively asked.
Whistler chuckled. “They’re all a handful, Angel, but yeah,” Whistler paused for a moment, thinking of the rights words to describe the little blonde firecracker, “Just think ‘Buffy’ and add a dose of a . . . a female ‘Spike’ . . . like . . . like Faith.”
Angel groaned. Yup, she was definitely gonna be a handful.
“Paige is another Buffy and Spike love child.” Angel looked fiercely at him for the description. “She’s the only one out of all the Buffy/Spike offspring that came from a normal home,” Whistler explained. “There are no longer any demons in her universe, only the ones that come from within.” “Her parents . . . ” “Are still happily married. I told you, she comes from a normal home. Perfect in every way. They even have an enormous cozy mansion with a white picket fence and a Golden Retriever named Scrappy Doo, a garden of roses and a British flag waving proudly above their main door, courtesy of Spike.” “She mentioned that Spike received the Shanshu,” Angel said, lips tight at the thought of Spike getting HIS prophecy. |
 |
Whistler nodded sadly. “Yep,” he answered and paused to look at Angel, trying to gather up the nerve to tell him why, “In Paige’s dimension, you didn’t exactly survive that whole ordeal with Darla coming back from the dead. You were too far down to have been saved . . . by anyone . . . even yourself.”
Angel closed his eyes, remembering that time of his unlife. It was the lowest he had ever been since receiving his soul. “Who . . . who killed . . . me?”
“Not Buffy, if that’s what you’re thinking,” Whistler replied and then paused once again, “It was Faith.”
Angel nodded, not knowing how to react to that.
“Anyhow, the rest of the A.I. Team went to Sunnydale after that. With their help, Buffy won and survived all the Apocalypses that was thrown at her. Seven years later, The End of Days was over and she lived Happily Ever After with Spike and had three kids, Paige being the oldest.”
Angel frowned. “Why is she here if her life is so . . . absolute?”
“The underworld will be throwing a curve ball around the time she returns to her dimension, just a few seconds after she left. There was no way Buffy or Spike would let me borrow their eldest to be trained to fight demons and other little nasties that go ‘bump’ in the night, and there’s also no time there for her to prepare. That’s why time has paused in her world so she can be tutored and trained here. The PTB hope to return her there in a year or two, until then . . . her physical appearance won’t be changing, and she won’t be dying anytime soon.”
“So her presence here is only temporary.”
Whistler nodded. “She’s a tough cookie. Willing and eager to learn,” the demon continued, “I didn’t learn much about her throughout the whole time she was with me since she was always so quiet . . . except for that little tirade you witnessed. But I think it’s only because of the fact that I took her from her home and threw her into this hell.” Whistler shook his head desolately. “It wasn’t fair for her, but we both know how that goes.”
Angel nodded in agreement.
“She’s gonna have a tough time here, and a tougher time when she returns to her world.”
“How old is she?”
“Just turned 16.”
Angel closed his eyes.
“Just when she’s only supposed to get her driver’s license and worry about boys and passing Algebra.” Whistler sighed, “But she’s ready to get started, and she knows and understands what she needs to do. She has a feeling if she gets this over and done with, learn a few Karate moves and kill a few demons and vampires, she’s up and ready to go back home and kick ass by herself.”
Angel snorted. “She has a lot to learn then.”
 |
Whistler nodded and moved on, “Tristan is yours and Buffy’s.” “I don’t think I saw him.” Whistler shook his head. “He doesn’t like getting involved in the others’ tiffs.” “He’s definitely my kid then,” Angel smiled, pleased at the thought. Whistler laughed heartedly. “You have no idea,” he said, then slowly became solemn, “But that’s not the only reason why.” Angel looked up at him, waiting for him to explain, and he had the distinct feeling he wasn’t going to like what he heard . . . more than hearing about Paige’s happy parents as well as Liam and Eliza’s true blood sire. |
“Tristan’s a loner with the intelligence of 10 Einsteins and then some. A real child genius if I ever saw one. He could put Willow and Oz to shame,” Whistler smiled slightly, rubbing his neck tiredly before a yawn escaped through his lips. “He’s a silent observer with a keen sense of the feelings and thoughts of others. He’s very much like Austin, but a mute compared to the older boy.”
“And that’s saying much, right?”
“Yep,” Whistler verified. The demon then paused, his eyes turning somber and dream-like, “Tristan . . . whenever I look into his eyes, I see the ocean, and . . . and he’s standing alone on the beach just staring at the waves like it’s talking to him . . . taunting him. And I picture him walking to that blue ocean . . . and drowning in his personal misery.” Whistler paused and Angel frowned at the sinister portrayal of one of his own sons. The other demon suddenly burst out laughing, “I know . . . it’s madness but . . . it’s there and I can’t seem to get rid of it.”
“Did something happen to him?” Angel asked curiously, knowing he was gonna flip once he hears his story as well. Was there no happy ending for any of his children in any dimension?
“He was conceived on Buffy’s 17th birthday.” Angel looked up, startled, and Whistler only nodded, “And he was originally named Alan Patrick.” Angel remained silent as he recognized the Gaelic origins of the name as well as the connection to one of his dearest friends. “Acathla came earlier over there than it did here . . . and Willow never got to finish the Gypsy spell before Buffy sent Angelus to hell.”
“And no spells can reach the hell dimension.”
Whistler nodded his head in reply. “Buffy ran away to L.A. and spent the rest of her pregnancy there. Angelus returned just when you came back in this dimension.” Angel looked up, alarmed. “They were fine for 6 years until Angelus finally came looking. He mentally tortured her with the usual stuff; nailed puppies on her door, left her boss’ hand in her microwave, not knowing the whole time about Tristan, which is quite surprising considering how smart your demon is.” Angel glared at him and Whistler cleared his throat and took a gulp of his coffee. “He finally came to her one night and began to turn her . . . Buffy shoved a knife into her heart right when Tristan walked in.”
“Oh, God . . . ” The image of Angelus in game face, blood dripping from his lips, and holding Buffy’s limp form came crashing through his brain. As well as the visualization of a young 6 year old walking in and watching in horror as his mother killed herself. Angel felt like he was gonna be sick.
“Angelus couldn’t save Buffy . . . and after tearing down her apartment, he finally took the boy and left.”
Angel gulped. “Angelus raised him.”
Whistler nodded somberly. “And changed his name to Tristan which means . . . ”
“Sad . . . in Gaelic,” Angel finished for him.
Whistler took a deep breath and slowly let it out. “The demon didn’t abuse him, he actually raised the boy with the best tutors, took him everywhere from Hawaii to France and even Indonesia . . . But he’s also seen a lot. Angelus might have seemed like a saint when it came to the boy, but a demon could only go so far.”
“He killed in front of him,” Angel deduced without qualms.
Whistler nodded again. “And maimed and tortured. Threatened and raped.” Angel stared at the ceiling, fighting the tears. What he must have gone through. “Angelus never did it on purpose, of course, but Tristan would come home early once in a while or walk into a room without knocking. But Angelus never hid it either. You know how he is. He did what he wanted whenever and wherever he wanted it. It was impossible for Tristan to be oblivious for the 9 years he was with the demon.”
Angel blanched. “Nine years?”
“Making him 15 years old.”
“He’s too young . . . to have seen what he, undoubtedly, saw.” Angel looked mad enough to kill. “God! . . . Why?”
Whistler could only shrug. “It was the way it had to be.”
“My son didn’t deserve it,” Angel growled threateningly.
“And now, you’re gonna make up for it.”
“Nothing can make up for what happened to him,” Angel said angrily, getting up on his feet and pacing like a caged tiger. He couldn’t believe the PTB would do this to a child. Even if they give him that ‘everything happens for a reason’ bullshit they can’t seem to get tired of. An innocent child was thrown into a world that belonged to fallen angels.
“It happened.”
“No, Whistler, shit happens . . . this, what happened to him? Doesn’t happen to everyone,” Angel ranted on.
“But he’s here now . . . and he’s safer here. He has your protection.”
Angel finally stopped pacing and breathed out a defeated sigh. “He is safer here.”
 |
“Yeah, I know. Now sit down. There’s one more.” Angel did so and waited. “Amelia . . . ” “Ariella,” Angel corrected with a stiff glare. “Right,” Whistler sighed and shook his head, “Can’t seem to remember her name most of all.” He shrugged, not really caring. It wasn’t like he would be staying long enough to need to know her by name. “Anyway, she’s very much like Paige. Grew up in a normal family home in a beach house in the outskirts of LA. Her house didn’t exactly have a white picket fence but the enormous pool with the built-in Jacuzzi and the ocean-view front more than made up for it.” Angel lifted a brow, quite impressed. “She’s a spoiled brat, Angel,” Whistler sighed, “She’s the youngest at 13 years old and going through her early pre-teen dilemmas. She’s also a model.” He rolled his eyes and almost groaned at the experience of traveling with a young girl too high maintenance for her own good. “I swear, if this trip had been longer, I would have tied her down and shoved an apple in her mouth and threw her into a pit filled with Fyarl demons.” |
Angel glared at him. He was talking about his daughter here, even though she wasn’t . . . exactly . . . technically.
“But I didn’t,” Whistler quickly saved himself. “She’s as boy crazy as the next 13 year old with an appetite for Justin Timberlands and Ashton Ketchup.” He paused, frowned, and then mentally waved it off as one of his ‘weird’ things. “You may want to look into them . . . I think they may be demons.”
“Possibly,” was Angel’s only reply.
“She thinks chewing gum is unladylike and Hanson was ‘so five years ago.’ Her favorite color’s pink and she thinks Britney Spears’ a slut . . . Oh, and you might want to look into her too, she may also be a demon. A succubus perhaps. She loves Chupa-Chup, whatever that is, but I have a feeling it may be taffy . . . or a new nickname for Skittles. Anyway, she’s not much into books but she likes reading fashion articles and her horoscope in Seventeen Magazine, which she modeled for a few times. She thinks her dad, that’s you, looks like a cross between James Dean and a Romance Novel hero.”
Angel cringed, thinking of Buffy WAY before she became The Slayer. She may have been cute with an unbound soul and a heart that told all, but he had to admit, she was quite a Valley Girl. And when did he start looking like James Dean and trashy novel characters?
“But those were the better moments I had with this girl, when she let herself smile and laugh. The times between these?” Whistler almost cried at the memory, “It was filled with complaining, weeping for you and Buffy, and, more importantly, she bothered the hell outta the others which made THEM pissier than usual, and so everyone ended up complaining and angry too.”
He shook his head. “Good luck with that one,” Whistler grumbled.
Angel stared at him. “Does she have ANY redeeming qualities?”
Whistler thought about it for a moment. “She does have a pretty smile and an infectious laugh, other than that . . . ” the demon shook his head aggressively, “No, I can’t think of a thing.”
“You’ve never really been fond of children, especially young ones like her,” Angel pointed out, wanting to defend his own flesh and blood, even though it wasn’t technically true.
“And you wonder why.”
“And is she also here temporarily?”
“Yes, and you can thank the PTB for that later when you realize what I mean,” he mumbled out as though it was some big secret, “Amelia . . . ”
“Ariella,” Angel corrected once again.
Whistler continued on, ignoring him. “In her dimension, the existence of demons have remained a folk lore since time began. But that’s about to change, and the girl needs to be ready to return and fight to save her world.”
“That’s a lot to ask for a little girl,” Angel said worriedly.
“She’s her world’s only hope.”
Angel understood how that was. The girl would gain so much here, but also loose more: her innocence, her vulnerability, everything that made her 13 years old. And Angel felt guilty for he will be one of the reasons why that would disappear. It wasn’t fair for her, he realized, but not much in this world, or any other world for that matter, was fair. As Austin had said, life in every dimension wasn’t ‘hearts and roses,’ unless they were really lucky and ended up in a place where money grew on trees, evil didn’t exist, and Michael Jackson didn’t get enough plastic surgery to put 20 women with breast implants to shame.
“I have a feeling she’s gonna have the hardest time getting with the program. She was sheltered and thought her father was a God . . . ”
“And I’m nothing of the sort,” Angel said glumly.
Whistler nodded and sat back and stretched with a yawn. “And that’s all 8 of them.” The demon stood on his feet, rubbed his eyes, and grinned at him. “Good luck with that. Have fun. Don’t let any of them die. And . . . smile, Angel, smile.”
The vampire stood up in a panic. “You can’t just leave them here and walk out,” he raved, “There’s eight of them out there!” he exclaimed, motioning towards the lobby with an exaggerated wave of his hand.
Whistler chuckled. “They’re only children, Angel . . . And plus, they’re not evil or anything. They’re not here to try and kill you in your sleep if that’s what you’re worried about.
The vampire threw his hands in the air, “Well that just puts my fears aside.”
“Listen, Angel. I know how this seems to you. You’ve been handed 8 teenagers, each differing from the next like the colors of the rainbow. The only way to do that is by getting help. Call Buffy. Put your petty problems aside and work together. Figure it out and take care of them.” Whistler stretched and began walking towards the door with Angel right behind him.
“You can’t just do this!” Angel exclaimed, not noticing the eight teenagers who now had his full attention as they ate pizza and Chinese quietly.
“Bye, kids!” Whistler waved at them, eager to leave before the vampire went even more ballistic than he already was with the fear of having to take care 8 virtual strangers. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!” he warned.
“Eat dick!” Aiden shouted at him in return.
The others chuckled and laughed softly.
Whistler frowned at the boy.
Angel paled even more.
“Good luck,” the short man grumbled, and within a second, the demon disappeared through the door and straight into the darkness, leaving Angel with doubts that it wasn’t Whistler at all but an evil copy of Whistler that had just dumped 8 of his bastards in Angel’s care.
He turned around and found 8 pairs of eyes gazing at him with curiosity. He looked at each of them and his heart new the truth he couldn’t deny. He saw Buffy in all of them . . . her kindness in Austin, her love of life in Aiden, her pride in Liam, her humbleness in Eliza, her spark in Brooke, her sincerity in Tristan, her eagerness in Paige, and her beauty in Ariella. They all came from her and held a part of her body, blood, and soul . . .
Angel vomited up blood on the floor.
“Eeww . . . ”
“Ahh . . . ”
An eruption of haughty laughter.
“That’s so gross.”
“Ammm . . . ”
“Ughlk!”
And someone puked along with him.
“My shirt!”
Continued to Chapter 3: White Stucco Finish
Back to Chapter 1: Lucky #8