Stricken
folder
Angel the Series › Slash - Male/Male
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
9
Views:
3,798
Reviews:
7
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Angel the Series › Slash - Male/Male
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
9
Views:
3,798
Reviews:
7
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own Angel: The Series, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
Stricken
Prologue
Xander stood outside the old hotel, watching through pained eyes as the sun sank behind a tall building, passing out of his sight and sending shadows to dance ghost-like across the streets and into the alleyways. With trembling hands, he reached into the pocket of his jeans and pulled out a slip of paper, glancing down at it, then at the address of the deteriorating building he was in front of.
Swallowing hard, muscles jumping in his jaw as he clenched his teeth and squared his shoulders, he took a last deep breath in and shoved the torn piece of notebook paper back into his jeans. There wasn’t much time left, he could feel it rising inside of him with every pounding beat of his heart, twisting and roiling, burning.
This was the last place he wanted to be, his last resort, last cry for help. He didn’t know where else to go, it wasn’t safe for him to be in Sunnydale, not with Willow and Buffy there. Not with Dawn.
His skin itched and burned, his head felt full of cotton, fuzzy and thick and the words of people passing him on the street were fast losing their meaning. A pounding was starting behind his eyes and he just wanted to sink to his knees on the wet, cold pavement and start crying until he woke from this nightmare, but there wasn’t time to break down now.
Wasn’t time for anything, anymore.
***
“Xander! What are you doing in LA?”
Angel’s head jerked up at Cordelia’s surprised screech and he winced. Xander Harris had to be one of the last people from Sunnydale that he wanted to see, but his life always seemed to work like that. He didn’t envy Xander as he watched his hurricane of a seer storm over to the teenager, who looked alarmed at seeing his ex-girlfriend there, and start asking a million questions at once.
He would have left them to their catching up, sure that Cordelia would let him know what was going on if it was anything important, but then he actually looked at the boy. Well, man now, Xander had grown and filled out some, no longer the lanky, scrawny boy he had been when Angel has last seen him. He also wasn't his usual babbling, joking self, no 'Deadboy' comments yet, no derisive looks towards Angel.
There was a panicked look in those brown eyes, skin pale and clammy under the tan. He kept edging away from Cordelia, eyes flickering away to look anywhere but at her, which Angel would have thought was amusing, if he hadn’t picked up on what the young man was muttering under his breath.
“Please, Cordy, stay away from me. I don’t wanna hurt you,” he kept repeating, his scent getting more and more desperate by the minute, but Cordelia wasn’t paying attention, still trying to ask him about Sunnydale.
His scent… something about it made the hairs on the back of Angel’s neck raise, a rich, earthy and cold smell that tickled at his senses. It was familiar, but not. Frowning, he stepped forward and those dark eyes darted over to him, a pleading in them that he didn’t understand. Going with his instincts, he said quietly, “Cordelia, why don’t you go get Xander something to drink?”
She huffed, looking between the two of them suspiciously, but at Xander’s small, grateful smile, she nodded and walked out of the room, heading for the small kitchen. She wasn’t as self-absorbed as she pretended to be and he knew that she understood that Angel wanted a few moments alone to speak with him.
Silently regarding Xander’s tense and now-shaking body for a brief moment, Angel shoved aside his dislike for the mouthy and annoying boy and reached out a hand to touch him on the shoulder, but Xander flinched away. Dropping his hand, Angel asked quietly, “Xander? What is it? Is Buffy-”
When the young man started shaking his head wildly, he stopped and bit his bottom lip in thought. Something was definitely wrong and Xander was acting very out of character. After a few seconds, he watched Xander take in a deep breath and look up.
Angel’s eyes widened as he stared into Xander’s. He could see the internal conflict, the struggle going on behind the dark eyes, but he didn’t know what it meant. It was something he felt daily, but he could tell the boy was still alive; he wasn’t a vampire with a demon to suppress.
“I.. need your help, Angel,” Xander finally rasped out, words belying the bleak animosity in his eyes and Angel frowned again as he felt the world spin on its axis. Xander Harris was coming to him for help?
“What can I do, Xander?” he asked softly, wondering what had happened in Sunnydale that the teenager would come to LA, to a vampire he despised.
Staring into Angel’s eyes, body shaking so badly now that he wrapped his arms around himself as if he were afraid he would shatter into a million pieces if he let go, Xander answered him in a quiet, hoarse voice, so low that Angel could barely hear it.
“I want you to kill me.”
Xander stood outside the old hotel, watching through pained eyes as the sun sank behind a tall building, passing out of his sight and sending shadows to dance ghost-like across the streets and into the alleyways. With trembling hands, he reached into the pocket of his jeans and pulled out a slip of paper, glancing down at it, then at the address of the deteriorating building he was in front of.
Swallowing hard, muscles jumping in his jaw as he clenched his teeth and squared his shoulders, he took a last deep breath in and shoved the torn piece of notebook paper back into his jeans. There wasn’t much time left, he could feel it rising inside of him with every pounding beat of his heart, twisting and roiling, burning.
This was the last place he wanted to be, his last resort, last cry for help. He didn’t know where else to go, it wasn’t safe for him to be in Sunnydale, not with Willow and Buffy there. Not with Dawn.
His skin itched and burned, his head felt full of cotton, fuzzy and thick and the words of people passing him on the street were fast losing their meaning. A pounding was starting behind his eyes and he just wanted to sink to his knees on the wet, cold pavement and start crying until he woke from this nightmare, but there wasn’t time to break down now.
Wasn’t time for anything, anymore.
***
“Xander! What are you doing in LA?”
Angel’s head jerked up at Cordelia’s surprised screech and he winced. Xander Harris had to be one of the last people from Sunnydale that he wanted to see, but his life always seemed to work like that. He didn’t envy Xander as he watched his hurricane of a seer storm over to the teenager, who looked alarmed at seeing his ex-girlfriend there, and start asking a million questions at once.
He would have left them to their catching up, sure that Cordelia would let him know what was going on if it was anything important, but then he actually looked at the boy. Well, man now, Xander had grown and filled out some, no longer the lanky, scrawny boy he had been when Angel has last seen him. He also wasn't his usual babbling, joking self, no 'Deadboy' comments yet, no derisive looks towards Angel.
There was a panicked look in those brown eyes, skin pale and clammy under the tan. He kept edging away from Cordelia, eyes flickering away to look anywhere but at her, which Angel would have thought was amusing, if he hadn’t picked up on what the young man was muttering under his breath.
“Please, Cordy, stay away from me. I don’t wanna hurt you,” he kept repeating, his scent getting more and more desperate by the minute, but Cordelia wasn’t paying attention, still trying to ask him about Sunnydale.
His scent… something about it made the hairs on the back of Angel’s neck raise, a rich, earthy and cold smell that tickled at his senses. It was familiar, but not. Frowning, he stepped forward and those dark eyes darted over to him, a pleading in them that he didn’t understand. Going with his instincts, he said quietly, “Cordelia, why don’t you go get Xander something to drink?”
She huffed, looking between the two of them suspiciously, but at Xander’s small, grateful smile, she nodded and walked out of the room, heading for the small kitchen. She wasn’t as self-absorbed as she pretended to be and he knew that she understood that Angel wanted a few moments alone to speak with him.
Silently regarding Xander’s tense and now-shaking body for a brief moment, Angel shoved aside his dislike for the mouthy and annoying boy and reached out a hand to touch him on the shoulder, but Xander flinched away. Dropping his hand, Angel asked quietly, “Xander? What is it? Is Buffy-”
When the young man started shaking his head wildly, he stopped and bit his bottom lip in thought. Something was definitely wrong and Xander was acting very out of character. After a few seconds, he watched Xander take in a deep breath and look up.
Angel’s eyes widened as he stared into Xander’s. He could see the internal conflict, the struggle going on behind the dark eyes, but he didn’t know what it meant. It was something he felt daily, but he could tell the boy was still alive; he wasn’t a vampire with a demon to suppress.
“I.. need your help, Angel,” Xander finally rasped out, words belying the bleak animosity in his eyes and Angel frowned again as he felt the world spin on its axis. Xander Harris was coming to him for help?
“What can I do, Xander?” he asked softly, wondering what had happened in Sunnydale that the teenager would come to LA, to a vampire he despised.
Staring into Angel’s eyes, body shaking so badly now that he wrapped his arms around himself as if he were afraid he would shatter into a million pieces if he let go, Xander answered him in a quiet, hoarse voice, so low that Angel could barely hear it.
“I want you to kill me.”