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Disclaimer:I do not own any of the "Buffy" or "Angel" characters, unless Joss is willing to sell them. I do own Fritz Drahnaus and Ra'Shun Hunter, do not take them without permission. Anything reader's see that you might think is copyrighted I do not own. Music, clothing etc.
Author's Notes:This takes place about three months after Graduation Part 2. This is my second attempt at writing a fan fiction so I would love feedback. My last fiction was never published and never finished.
Part 1
Lights twinkle in the sky above Rome, New York. Six young kids run through the woods giggling, because they are trespassing on private property. The come to a spot in the woods that is just open enough to let the light of the quarter moon shine down upon their faces, making them look older. Shadows give the young ones a look distorted and not quite human. Giggling with glee, they form a circle around one child and begin to chant. After a half an hour of chanting the juvenile in the middle begins to convulse. The chanting grows faster and louder in response. The convulsions of the central adolescent become faster and stronger; the chanting grows faster and stronger in time with the convulsing. All sounds and movement come to a sudden halt, and all eyes look down upon the teen in the middle; his eyes are wide open and he has a homicidal grin on his face.
Angel sits up suddenly from the large bed in his LA apartment. He was in a cold sweat -- the bed sheets stuck to him, so he ripped them off of his body, swung his feet to the floor, and sat with his head in his hands in one fluid motion. He was wearing only a pair of pants, showing off his muscular upper body. The sweat rolled down his back. Angel was not use to those kinds of dreams. Dreams that were so real you swear you were actually there. He muttered to himself, "No. couldn't be."
Looking up, Angel noticed that it was an hour before he was supposed to get out of bed anyway, and he no longer felt like sleeping. He went to his refrigerator, grabbed a packet of blood, poured it into a mug and threw it into the microwave. After it was done he sat on the couch, drank from the mug and mused over his dream. It was difficult to comprehend because in his mind it had seemed so real. He felt as if he had truly watched kids run into a restricted area of the woods and had run after them, only to find that they were channeling the dead. He had a feeling that he knew that of which they were calling, and if this dream was true; it was not going to be human.
Angel tried to brush off the nagging feeling and turned on the morning news. Paying only half-attention, he had just walked back to his bedroom to dress himself when he heard something about a group of kids missing in Rome, New York. The television also stated that a nationally wanted convict was in the area and was suspected in the teen's disappearance. Racing back to the television screen, Angel watched what seemed to be a view from a helicopter flying over the woods of his dream. It was true -- it had happened! Swearing to himself, he ran to dress; he had to find Doyle.
Cordelia and Doyle were in the office, when Angel arrived. Cordelia looked stunning as usual. Doyle was hitting on her, also typical. Angel noticed that Cordelia was wearing a skirt with a starburst embroidery on the front of it in the colors of pink and white, with a matching black two piece top that Angel had no idea how to describe. Casually hanging up his leather jacket he realized that Doyle was in the same clothes as yesterday. He chuckled at the fact that Cordelia must be having a fit over it. He could hear it now: "My god Doyle! Didn't you wear that yesterday?" Cordelia would say. Doyle would shrug, not caring, and say "What's it to ya, toots?" Cordelia would then ramble on the significance of cleanliness and keeping up in fashion. However, Angel had more serious matters to discuss than this season's "fashion statements."
"Doyle," Angel stated with a quiet softness.
"Hang on toots," Doyle uttered to Cordelia. "Yeah, Angel?"
"We have a big problem," Angel said in a stern tone, implying that this was bigger then the usual "problem" of demons and other swarms of hell with which they typically dealt. Smirking, Doyle replied, "Oh, here's something new."
Angel rolled his eyes; Doyle was obviously in the mood to beat around the bush. "He's back."
Cordelia took that time to speak up, "Hello? What could be worse the mayor's ascension or any other ugly thing that comes out of hell?"
Angel answered, "This is worse. It's my apprentice. His name is Fritz Drahnaus; I met him when I first arrived in the States. He's from Germany; I killed him when he first arrived on the American soil. He followed me around wondering what he was supposed to do in his new life. I taught him most of what I knew how to hunt and how to do it well. He is almost as dangerous as I am. He helped fuel the Nazi movement in Germany that fed World War II. He was killed after the war and most likely was sent to hell. Some kids must have read about him and channeled him and he took over this teenager's body."
Grunting, Doyle spoke. "That's why he's dangerous -- not only does he kill for sport, but he does it because he thinks it's a good ideal. That kind of killing disgusts me."
Over the radio the song "Children of the Korn" by Korn plays softly.
Doyle murmured softly, "You have to wonder what was going through the minds of those kids when they went to get him.."
(Censored) authority, hit you a** in the head with my 40, you girls'll
see more of me
After school you'll better run to your pa', class clown already know
I'm a star
The children of the Korn was born from your porn and twisted ass
ways
Now you look amazed I'm sitting in a daze in a purple haze you
better check my pulse cause
Nothin' seems to faze.
Angel said calmly, as the radio changed to "Dead Bodies Everywhere" by Korn, "I'm more interested in what Fritz is thinking."
Come on step inside and you'll realize tell me what ya need, tell me
what to be
What you envision you'll see, what do you expect of me, I can't live
that lie
"Hate, I sing my words
I thought that feeling
With your life's dead bodies everywhere
You really want me to be a good son
Why? You make me feel like no one."
Cordelia finally got bored with listening to them go on and bluntly asked, "So what are you going to about it?"
Angel looking at Cordelia, and then at Doyle. "First thing is first. We need to find out what he has been doing, since the last time I saw him. Cordelia, get on the phone to Sunnydale and give Giles what's going down, tell him to be prepared cause Fritz is heading his way. Besides that he will want to feed."
Cordelia, "Alright."
Doyle spoke up. "So, Boss -- what are you going to do?"
Angel looked up at Doyle; "I'm going to head up to Rome and gather
information on what happened to those kids. We'll need to know his
killing style, in case he strikes again."