entrancelogs | [OPEN] Sometimes your friends bring out the best in you.

Entry tags:

[OPEN] Sometimes your friends bring out the best in you.

Who: Angel & you!
Where: Angel Investigations & the kitchen.
When: 4/19 (for Faith) & 4/26
Rating: R? Blood, severed hands and potential for violence.
Summary: Faith offers Angel a Slayer-flavored protein shake with potentially disastrous results.
The Story:

4/19, CLOSED to Faith

He's lost track of how many hours it's been since he asked Faith to lock him in, leaning heavily against the bars of the cage he'd made sure Wonderland's replica of the Angel Investigations office held for situations just like this. It had started to prick at him the night before, the hunger he knew would come when all his supplies were exhausted-- the Infected posed as much a threat to him as anyone else, but he was just as fast as they were, maybe faster, and it made getting bitten easy enough to avoidable. The spores weren't a concern for someone who didn't breed, but the lack of supplies and the fact that the closets were giving out less and less?

That was a problem. He'd thought that it might be, when the additional stock he'd grabbed for himself after the announcement had disappeared. There had been enough blood stored in the fridge in his office to last him through most events, provided Wonderland didn't take it away, but this one seemed to be longer than most, and he wasn't willing to risk what could happen if he decided to let himself roam free and just hope it ended sooner rather than later-- not when he was this hungry.

The request for Faith to lock him in and make sure he stayed there had come paired with a gas mask. Physically, she could handle more than her share of assailants just like he could, but he wasn't going to risk her getting infected by inhaling something she shouldn't on his account. He'd been grateful when she'd agreed, but that had been hours ago-- it felt like days, the way hunger was beginning to gnaw at him, and he irately pushes himself away from the bars of the cage so that he can pace along its length, hands clasped behind his back.

He'd planned for alternatives in the event that Wonderland came up with an event that kept him from being able to eat, but the current method was equal parts exhausting and maddening. He sighs, rubbing at the back of his neck as he paces.

"We should, I don't know, play charades or something. Poker?" No need to be dying of both hunger and boredom. "Maybe Uno."

4/26, OPEN

A full week after the event, and Angel was still feeling the effects of the favor Faith had done him. A part of him had hoped that they would have burned themselves out of his system by now, that they would have vanished without a trace and he would be able to go back to his usual routine, but that had been wishful thinking, almost painfully optimistic.

He knew better. He had been through this enough times to know that it wouldn't work that way-- it never did, whether because of a slip he'd made all of his own accord or because someone else had intended to sabotage him. However human blood got into his system, it didn't matter. The results were always the same, except he worried that this time might actually be worse. A Slayer's blood was a different story entirely, more potent.

It had been a difficult habit to kick the first time he'd tasted it, too.

He spends most of the morning in his office on the fourth floor, thumbing through research without really reading what's on the page in front of him, reorganizing the weapons cabinet twice before he decides it's all wrong and leaves it unfinished, unsatisfied with anything he puts his hands on, restless. For a short stretch, he only paces back and forth near the front desk, unable to focus himself on anything at all-- until he gives up and decides he needs a change of scene. There are only so many places he can go, at least during the day, but the insistent hunger that's been nagging at him for days now makes the decision easy enough. The replenished stock in his office hasn't been doing him any good, cold and unappealing, but he privately hopes that the kitchen will treat him a little bit better, that maybe something fresher will help to quell his appetite.

He's both uneasy and impatient as he waits for the microwave to finish, leaning against the counter with both hands, tapping his fingers unevenly against the surface. He only gets halfway through his first mug before he feels his own body reject it-- as if it's tired of him trying to force down pig's blood instead of human, and the reaction is almost entirely involuntary as he spits out what he hasn't managed to swallow and inadvertently throws the mug against the nearest wall, causing it to break and splatter blood across the tiling.

He grimaces. Well, crap.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"What? Come on!" Dipper drops his arms, scowling up at Angel. "I'm a detective too! Let me in on this!"

"I hire people who are capable and have something to offer," Angel corrects Alex evenly, unwilling to dismiss Dipper's contribution because of his age-- even as the latter protests his handling of this situation.

"You're in," he goes on to say, "But if Alex came in to talk to me and wants privacy, I can't deny him that-- same as anyone else who walks through that door." Whether they're a client or someone who just wants his insight on something, he has to respect their wishes. That doesn't mean he won't be sharing relevant information with Dipper once it's through.

"Woah, woah." He shoots Dipper a wary look, highly unwilling to let a kid in on this. Sure, Dipper might not appreciate being treated like a kid, but a kid he is nonetheless. "This is some, uh, seriously sensitive stuff. All right? Like, as in, the fewer people that know about it the better?"

He directs that question pointedly in Angel's direction, nervous despite himself.

"Let me guess, if you told me you'd have to kill me?" Dipper rolls his eyes. It... actually sounds like the sort of thing Alex would say and mean but Dipper isn't about to be scared. Plenty of people and things want to kill him. And it's not like he'd stop knowing if he got killed.

He scowls and leans against the desk. "Fine."

The look Angel offers Dipper is equal parts grim and apologetic; there's only so much he can say in mixed company, but he hopes Dipper trusts him enough to know that he's on his side. It's never been his intent to treat Dipper as lesser because of his age.

"Let's try to keep things as professional as possible," he says flatly, an advisory to the room at large.

"I'm not gonna kill anybody," says Alex, exasperated. Anyone else, he should've said, but he's trying to make friends here, all right? Not best to start that whole thing with a round of "hey, you know what morally reprehensible things I've done lately?"

Christ, this is turning out to be more trouble than it's worth.

"Look," he says, turning to Angel, eyes darting to either side so he can look literally anywhere but at the other man directly, "bottom line - I need, uh, some advice, kind of. About a...friend."

"I can handle advice." He gestures towards the open door to the smaller office, indicating that Alex should go first-- it would allow them at least a moderate amount of privacy, and given how difficult it had been to get Alex to come in to talk in the first place, Angel is sure he'll need all the encouragement he can get as far as feeling free to speak openly.

"Have a seat."

He walks in and turns to rest against the edge of the desk rather than taking the seat behind in, arms folded across his chest as he looks towards the empty chair situated across from him.

Alex slinks in - okay, he doesn't slink. He walks. It's perfectly normal. Not masking a guilty conscience at all. He sinks into the chair and tries not to feel, absurdly, like he's back in elementary school, sent to the principal's office.

"So there was this whole event," he says, without much preamble whatsoever, having some apparently difficulty meeting Angel's eyes. "With the, that whole emotions thing. People's shutting off and on and stuff. And I, uh, I might've - might've done some stuff I kinda wish I hadn't. To one of the only people here who doesn't want to ream out and or kill me?"

"I remember."

The event itself had been a significant one, one that would stick with him for some time-- he'd toyed with the idea of turning his own emotions off, if only for a moment, but it would have undone too much of what he'd worked for in a short amount of time. It wouldn't have been right. He shifts his weight slightly, watching Alex with a patient interest.

"What happened?" he asks calmly, encouraging.

"So I might've decided to switch everything off."

Oh boy. He's gonna regret saying anything, isn't he.

Who's he kidding. He already regrets it.

"And I might've made this weird judgment leap that I needed to kill a friend of mine, a little bit. She got away, but, uh - I don't think we're really gonna ever be bestest buddies again."

And then he died. But he doesn't need to get into that just yet.

"That's one hell of a judgment leap." The comment comes out flat, but it remains otherwise benign, any criticism shoved to the wayside as Angel sifts through the details as they're given to him piece by piece. The picture is still an incomplete one, but his expression turns grim.

"Think it's safe to say there aren't any slumber parties in your future, at least." He shifts slightly, considering. "The thing about that event? It didn't create any thoughts or feelings that weren't already there. Only amplified them, either through heightened emotions or the lack of a conscience to temper them."

"I was a freaking Replicant, okay? It was out of control." He's already on the defensive, and immediately vows to dial it down some. That was hardly a judge of character. He's jumpy these days. He's jumpy every day. That's neither here nor there.

He folds his arms, slouching slightly in his seat as the feeling of having been sent to some authority figure's office for errant behavior intensifies a hundredfold.

"That's what everyone keeps saying, but like - it wasn't all that." Well, that's not true. Alex sighs, and revises what he was about to say. "It was more like, I trusted this friend with some sensitive info. And then with the emotions off I figured, hey, it'd be safer if this person didn't live to share that info!"

"Forgetting the fact that anyone killed here isn't going to stay dead," Angel supplies at the tail end of Alex's explanation, a frown firmly fixed in place. He could lecture, probably, but he hardly had any right to do so. Whatever was going on inside Alex's head, Angel had killed a whole lot more people with a lot less motivation over the years, some even in Wonderland. It wasn't that he was interested in giving other damaged parties free passes-- but there was something to be said for attempting to get to the root of whatever it was that made them who they were.

Maybe this had been an isolated incident, maybe not. He doesn't have enough information to say, but he knows that nothing about Alex has been quite right since the first time they'd spoken.

"You passed on info that could do a lot of damage if it got out. Now that you're yourself again-- do you still think they would have broken your trust?"

"Yeah, like I said - wasn't thinking straight. Obviously."

He has no idea why he's choosing to turn to Angel. It's not like people have a general "hey, I've tried to kill my friends!" vibe that they put off in neon colors. Maybe it's because Angel hasn't actually tried to press him for info, or analyze him. At least out loud. That's certainly helped.

"Not unless something was going on with our emotions or something, no," he says, after considerable hesitation. "Wouldn't be any point in it. Nothing to gain."

He exhales slowly, shifting his weight as he considers that. At least for the time being, Alex seemed sorry-- seemed like he wanted to find a way to deal with what he'd done. If he didn't, then he was an excellent liar, but Angel highly doubted he would want to talk at all if he intended to repeat his actions all over again.

"Which leaves the question of what comes next," he concedes with a single nod. "You're not the only person who's been through something like this, in Wonderland or otherwise. We all have to find our own way of processing. Deciding how we move forward."

"I wanna make sure it doesn't happen again." That's the reason he came here, isn't it? Or to just talk about it to someone who he's sure won't judge? Who won't label him as some kind of paranoid freak without reason?

He's got reasons behind what he does. They're not always good reasons, but they're - they're there for a reason, aren't they?

"I know we can't really predict what this place throws at us," he adds. Or, really, how he'll react to it at all. "But it's - I don't want to actually succeed in killing my friend."

"I know how that feels."

His tone darkens slightly, the corners of his mouth pulling downwards as he glances through the open crack in the door, towards the steel cage at the far end of the lobby. He'd taken as many precautions as he could, but it wasn't something he could do on his own-- and Alex wouldn't be able to do it alone, either.

"The most important thing you can do for yourself is to find someone you trust, without reserve, to do whatever it takes to stop you. To keep you from doing your worst. Even if you want nothing more than to keep yourself from going off the rails, this isn't the kind of thing you can do without help."

Did he actually choose to confide in someone who knows how it is? No way, no that's...well, all right, he concedes that it's totally possible. They've only been talking about Alex here, and Angel's dropped more than a few hints that there's kind of a lot to his whole story.

"Yeah, but - how do I do that when the only person I trust I ended up nearly killing?" He got lucky that Evelyn was there at all, and that's the bottom line. If she hadn't stopped him, he'd've set the whole mansion alight. "Unless, like - I dunno, are you up to the task?"

"I've done it for other people," Angel reasons aloud, as though the question itself were as benign as asking for something like a sandwich or a cup of coffee. "People who trust me to do what needs to be done if the time comes, just like I trust them. If you want someone to help you make sure you don't go off the rails-- then I'll do what I can."

It's dangerous to make promises in situations like these, but having someone who understands is more important than almost anything else. It's why the bond between him and Faith has remained strong despite all their ups and downs, why they'll always come back to one another when they need help. They get it in a way no one else can.

"I'd be willing, if that's what you want for yourself."

Because you can only help someone who wants to be helped, something he'd learned the hard way over and over again.

Angel's just really - okay with this? Full stop? No questions asked? Done it for a lot of people, he says. Like ensuring no one goes on a free-for-all killing spree is just a favor, nothing to worry about. He likes Angel well enough - trusts him with that? Well, maybe it's nothing to do with trusting the integrity of the person who'd be doing the deed. It's just trusting that he'd follow through with it.

Christ. How did he get here. How the hell.

Alex breathes in, short and sharp, and nods briskly. Like signing a contract or something. He's gonna die inevitably - he knows this, he's always known it, in the back of his mind. If that thing comes back, there's only one person left to blame for it. At least now if he kicks it, he won't be dragging innocents down with him.

Like Max.

"Yeah," he says finally. "Just - I dunno, I need a contingency. So if you've ever got to, y'know." He draws a finger over his throat and tries to laugh, weakly, but it's the least funny thing he can think of. "Make it...quick, I guess? God, I don't know. I've never done this before."

Angel is the sort of person who's had to learn to take a lot of things on faith. Spend enough time with him, Alex, and you might get used to it-- or not, because sometimes such offers will always seem too good to be true, but he knows what it's like to be uncertain, to need help. He'll always offer it to anyone who seems like they might genuinely make good use of a second chance. He knows how much the opportunity to have one can change someone.

"Seems a little like jumping the gun," Angel remarks with a faintly quirked eyebrow. "I don't see myself needing to go to those extremes. There are other ways. Better ways. It would be better to help you find a way to gain control of yourself-- but if you lose it, you can trust me to detain you."

"It's not always me," he protests, a little sheepishly. "It's just Wonderland making me all paranoid. I don't typically try to kill my friends."

That's a lie. He's already smashed their heads in, dragged them underground, yanked a body through an abandoned hospital as it swept a pale streak in the dust and asbestos. But he did it because he needed to, and now he - doesn't need to anymore. He hasn't told anyone the fundamental thing. And it's going to stay that way.

"Detain" sounds good. Better than dying, anyway. He nods, mostly to himself, feeling shaky.

"Okay. Uh. Thanks. For that. Wow, good talk."

Angel chooses to take that protestation with a grain of salt, shifting his weight against the desk once more. Not always him, maybe, but he knows first-hand how easy it can be to turn a blind eye to what you're capable of, to deny it and hope that that will be enough to keep it from being true.

It never is. Something in the way Alex protests hits him close to home, but it's one more thing he files away for later.

"If you ever want to tell me more, I'm here." He pauses, just for a beat. "Maybe I'll tell you some of my own background. Help put things in perspective."

"Um. Okay." Never hurts to know more about the guy who'd be taking you into custody, should the need arise. He shifts on the spot, and raises an eyebrow. "Yeah, okay. That might be kinda helpful. 'Cause you did say that you've done this for other people which, uh...raises some questions."

Not that Alex hasn't, it's just that those people weren't entirely consenting to the whole thing. Or aware of it at all until he brained them over the head with a piece of rebar. But, you know. Details.

The story in its entirety is kind of a lot, too much to drop on someone all at once, but Angel can give him the footnotes at the very least. If nothing else, it will help Alex to gain some understanding of why he does what he does.

"I'm a vampire," he says frankly, "Most of us aren't exactly known for being friendly. I wasn't always, either. Not for a long time. In fact, I was about as bad as they come."

Before he'd gotten himself a soul, it had been a point of pride.

"I know what it means to grapple with something darker than who you believe yourself to be."

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