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

"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."

A...vampire. Okay. Alex blinks a couple times as he digests that. Perspective, though, come on, Kralie. You're friends with a couple skeletons, a time-traveler, and a psychic - though "friends" would be kind of a strong term for his relationship with River. Acquaintances, maybe. Frenemies. Whatever.

But, yeah. Vampire. Not the weirdest thing ever, though it raises tons of logistical questions on vampire lore.

"Okay," he says, pulling the word out a few syllables past its expiration as he mulls the information over. "Okay. So. Vampire. What, uh...what changed, then? Why're you so cuddly now?"

It's not the sort of thing he would drop on most people so unceremoniously, to be far, but if he wants Alex to trust him, Angel has to prioritize transparency.

"I killed the wrong girl," he says frankly, although 'kill' was a gentle word for what he'd done to her. It had been so much more than that, the memory alone enough to make his stomach turn, vivid as it still was. "A gypsy. Her clan decided to punish me-- they cursed me with a soul, so that I would remember the faces and the terror of every person I'd ever hurt. I should have been consumed by guilt. For awhile, I was-- it took someone else to show me what a waste that was. That having a soul meant I should use the time I had as a second chance to move forward, and to atone."

That sure as hell wasn't in any book or movie Alex remembers seeing. So this is a guy who's...killed someone. Probably killed lots of people. And probably regrets it. Now has the capacity to regret it? It's not entirely clear how it works, but it doesn't have to be. The basics are outlined well enough.

"So you have a soul now," Alex repeats, more for his own sake than anything else, "which makes you all...soulful. And, uh...willing to help. Which is nice." Might as well get that out of the way now, because he's grateful for it, he honestly is. He wasn't sure how else he'd deal with...anything if he went off the rails again and there was no one to stop him from killing someone who matters.

"All right," he says, bracing his hands across his knees with a shrug. "I, uh, won't pretend I understand exactly how that works. But, hey, it's good enough for me."

"Wasn't sure how it worked myself for a long time," Angel admits grimly, pressing his lips together into a tight line. "It's easy to overthink it, try to make it complicated. But it doesn't have to be."

If Alex wants more details, there are plenty to be had, but for now, the most important information is on the table.

"But even just knowing that-- maybe you can see where I might be able to relate."

"...yeah." He laughs, though it's a pathetic attempt at humor where none really exists. "Yeah, I kinda do. Guilt and, uh...etcetera."

One hand goes to the back of his neck in an inadvertent, self-conscious gesture. Then he glances at the door to the office, abruptly nervous.

"You're not - you won't tell your intern about this, yeah? He kinda hates my guts enough as it is. Don't think I want him to know what I've...done, exactly."

Angel shakes his head, his expression somber.

"If you want this to remain between us, then it will," he begins evenly, though he follows up with a brief addendum a moment later. "But if you're in immediate danger of doing someone harm, they have the right to know."

"I mean, yeah. Fair enough. I just, uh...yeah, he really doesn't like me. Like, at all."

Largely Alex's own fault, to be fair, which he isn't. But repeated warnings not to pry into Alex's very personal business has done nothing but seemingly make the little twerp more determined to figure out just what's going on with him. That isn't to say that Alex Kralie is some kind of contrarian jerkwad, but he's definitely a contrarian jerkwad.

"Wouldn't happen to have a spot in the office for a guy like me?" He says it like a joke, though the question is genuine. Angel's been pretty open with him, and is thus far one of the few people he's felt comfortable confiding in regarding his...issues.

The vampire inclines his head towards the lobby, raising a brow in question. It's not a 'no,' not by a long shot, because he and Alex had touched on this briefly before. If nothing else, it was a good idea to keep Alex close so that he could keep an eye on him, maybe figure out the bits and pieces of his story that he wasn't offering, or perhaps didn't even know about.

"That depends. I could use someone to go through the files, do some reorganizing, catalog the books we've been pulling in from the closets, things like that-- but it requires you to get along with Dipper. Can you do that?"

Paperwork is nothing new. It's like any other low-wage college job, except he's not getting paid. Only he needs something to occupy his time, something that isn't spying on people with cameras, sitting alone in his room, and other such things.

Alex raises his hands defensively.

"Hey, I'm not the one who slammed the door in anyone's face. Long as he plays nice, I can too."

Probably not the most ringing endorsement ever. But it's honest.

"I'll talk to him."

Not necessarily with the intention to rebuke, but there's clearly history between the two of them-- history Angel is keenly interested in hearing the details of from Dipper's perspective as well as Alex's, when all is said and done. In the end, all he intends to ask for is civility, as well as understanding concerning his choice to handle things the way he has.

"Alright. We can try it out. Wouldn't hurt to have an extra pair of hands around here, especially when the nastier events roll around."

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

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