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The Distress of Being the Damsel

Disclaimer:  Once again, I do not own any characters from Angel or the Sookie Stackhouse novels.  Those belong to Joss Whedon and Charlene Harris.  I am going to introduce two characters, however, Claude and Samuel.  They are the abductors we met in the first chapter.  I have not written this for profit, only for pleasure.


 

Chapter 3

                                                                                Part 1

The Big Deal with Bon Temps

Spike drove through the crowded streets of Los Angeles. He always thought the city appeared like some sort of adult carnival at night. All lit up with the bright florescent signs advertising everything from beer to sex.   He drove with Viper’s windows rolled down so he could use his night vision to scan along the darker, busy sidewalks for any sign of Fred.

 

 Young couples, a few of them quite drunk, walked together arm in arm toward a destination unknown.  Prostitutes, in their scantily clad clothing, stood provocatively on their street corners in hopes of finding a john to sample the wares.  Homeless men and women pushed shopping carts full of their worldly possessions and occasionally stopped by the garbage cans to scout for something useful.  Unfortunately, he found everything but Fred.

 

He pulled the Viper into a parking space outside a small yet posh coffee shop-the last place Fred was seen before her disappearance. After he cut the engine, he turned off the music, closed his eyes and tuned out the many noises of the busy street. Spike raised his head slightly, and sniffed the air, much like a wolf on the hunt.

 

He filtered through the various smells: coffee, pastries, perfumes, and other humans until he caught a whiff of something familiar. It was sweet and flowery at the same time, like warm sugar and jasmine. It was Fred’s scent, faint, but it was there.  He turned his head in the direction from where it came.  It was then he noticed a new scent.  It smelled of metal, gun oil, old musty, clothes and really bad body odor. Spike sighed.  Bugger.  He did not have bloody time for this.

 

He kept his eyes closed as he spoke to the young man who tried to sneak up to the driver’s side window. “I know you’re there, Sparky.  Move along.  Nothin’ you want here.”

 

“I kinda doubt that, pretty boy.” The man stated before Spike heard the hammer as it was cocked back on his small handgun.

 

Spike opened his eyes and came face to face with a small .22.  The owner of the weapon held it close to his body, hidden by the oversized jacket to keep it from being seen from passersby.  His eyes then rolled up to see a dirty young man, no older than 19, with shaggy brown hair and dark brown eyes. He looked like a younger, dirtier version of the Slayer’s whelp back in SunnyD. The carjacker narrowed his eyes and smirked at Spike, believing he actually had the upper hand in the situation.  The blond vampire met the cocky dark brown eyes with bored blue ones. 

 

Normally, Spike would entertain the idea of letting some schmuck drive off in one of Angel’s cars just to piss the poof off.  Not like Captain Forehead couldn’t replace the damn thing. But the current circumstances, however, didn’t warrant such an action.

“I suggest you move along, mate.  I’ve got things to do.”

 

“Don’t think I can do that, pretty boy.  See, I sure like this car of yours.  So you’re gonna get your ass out of it and let me…”

 

The young man’s voice faded away as Spike morphed into his game face.  With lightning speed, his hand flew out of the open window, grabbed the damn gun, and effortlessly bent the barrel. After he tossed the now useless weapon into the passenger seat, he opened the driver’s door and gracefully slid from the car.

 

The young carjacker backed away, only to find himself forcibly grabbed by a very pissed off vampire. Spike held the little bastard by the front of his jacket and shoved his own demon face into the other man’s until they were nose to bumpy nose.  The carjacker whimpered when Spike grinned and showed off his very sharp fangs.

 

“You know, I’ve had meself a real bad day,” Spike said as he gave the man a shake. “Bloody wankers have been threatenin’ me with all kinds of shit today.  That alone’s enough to piss off a bloke. To make matters worse, I find out my girl’s been taken.”

 

Still holding the poof with one hand, he reached deep into his duster pocket with the other, whipped out a picture of Fred, and shoved it into the carjacker’s line of vision.  “During your damn pitiful attempts to be the big bad, have you seen this woman today?”  When Spike grit his fangs and growled, he smelled the strong scent of urine come from the young man.

 

“N-n-no.”

 

“Alright then.”  The vampire shrugged, allowed his human face to show again and put the picture back into his pocket. Spike then glared at the shaking young man as he trembled in his now very wet pants.

 

“Lucky for you, I’ve mended my ways, and people are off the soddin’ menu.  But if we meet like this again, I’ll toss my mended ways aside and I will bloody well eat you for breakfast.  We clear?” Spike growled.

 

The carjacker rapidly nodded.  “Crystal clear.  Sorry, very sorry.  Won’t happen again!” He gasped.

 

“Good.  Now piss off!” Spike shoved the man away watched the little bastard run as fast as he could in the other direction.  “Bloody wanker.  Gonna get himself killed, he is.”

 

Spike stomped into the bakery and showed the picture of Fred to the employees behind the counter, as well as several customers as they waited for their beverages.  One cashier confirmed she saw Fred earlier that evening, but that Fred was alone, as far as she could tell.  No, Fred did not get into a car with anyone, but she did take a left after she walked out the door.  When Spike commended the girl for having such a wonderful memory, she merely blushed and said she thought Fred was cute and enjoyed hearing the Southern accent when Fred talked.

 

Spike cocked his eyebrow at that, then smiled and nodded his thanks.  He entertained the image of his Fred and the cute little cashier getting to know each other better back at his apartment as he walked out the door of the coffee shop, turned left, and followed the scent trail Fred left behind.

 

 

 

Books and maps were scattered about Angel’s office.  The smell of Chinese food and frustration lingered in the air as the three men continued their search for Fred behind the scenes.  Angel sat at his desk and glared at map after map of the LA area as if the answer to Fred’s whereabouts would just suddenly pop up and screams “HERE I AM!”

 

Gunn lounged in Angel’s oversized leather chair and engrossed himself in some strange book about kidnappers and ransoms.  Angel was pretty sure the book was titled Kidnapping Etiquette for Dummies.

 

“Well, we haven’t received a ransom call yet, have we?”  Gunn asked as he looked up at Angel and Wesley.

 

“No.” The two answered in unison.

 

“Then it’s probably not money they’re after, which surprises me.  They could ask for any amount they wanted.”

 

“Do we even know if it’s a ‘they’, and not a ‘he’ or a ‘she’?” Angel asked.

 

“Naw, I’m just speculating.

 

A few more moments of silence, then Angel threw the maps off his desk and sat back with a scowl. “This is useless!” he exclaimed.

 

“Yes, especially since the maps are now down there.” Gunn retorted as he pointed to the mess of maps in front of Angel’s desk.

 

“Aha!” Wesley exclaimed as he bounced up from the loveseat.  “Here!” He held the large, leather bound book in front of him.

 

“You found Fred in there?” Angel asked as he pointed to the book.

 

“No, not Fred.  But I did find a locator spell.” Wesley announced triumphantly. “I can get all the ingredients from the lab.  I only need something of Fred’s.  A brush, a comb, or even a toothbrush would work.”

 

“Fred keeps those things in her office for when she spends the night here.” Gunn said as he jumped up from the leather seat.

 

“Good.  Go grab whatever of hers you can find.” Angel ordered as he stood

 

“On it.”

 

“What else you need, Wes?” Before Wesley could answer the doors to Angel’s office flew open.

 

“Hey kids,” Lorne greeted as he walked into Angel’s office. “The morgues and hospitals are all Fred free, which is kinda a blessing in disguise.  But still no Fredikins.  How are you fellas doing?”

 

“Wes found a locator spell.” Angel answered as he made room for the ritual.

 

“Oh good.” Lorne brought a green hand up to his neck, “It doesn’t require the arterial blood of a demon again, does it?”

 

“No, not this time.” Wes smiled as he remembered the green demon whining about spells using arterial demon blood instead of the more plentiful demon urine.

 

“Even better.  Whacha need me to do now?”

 

“I’m heading to Fred’s office for the other supplies.” Wes walked to the door. “I could use a clear, white quartz if you have one.”

 

“I believe I do.  You’d be amazed at what those Hollywood starlets are into nowadays.” Lorne answered as he headed for the door, “I’ve got more crystals and funky rocks all over my office than Liz Taylor has diamonds. Some are for luck, some are for healing.  I think I even have one that makes a woman’s boobs grow bigger for a special occasion.”  He noticed confused looks from Angel and Wesley. “Don’t ask.”

 

Lorne grew more serious as he looked at Angel.  “You know, if you do happen to need arterial blood for that spell, I would be offended if you didn’t come to me.  I’ll even chop off a body part, if it would help find her.”

 

“Thank you, Lorne.”

 

The green demon nodded, then left in search of the quartz Wesley needed.

 

“A crystal to make a woman’s…assets grow larger.” Wesley murmured. “Interesting.  Cordilla would have liked that.”

 

The men share a look that was part loss and part amusement.

 

Angel walked to the front of his desk, then crossed his arms and leaned against it. “Alright.  Everyone meets back here in 10.” He paused, his eyes filled with pain and frustration.  “It’s Fred, Wes.” Angel looked at his long time friend.  “We have to find her.”

 

“We will.”


 

Fred struggled against the rope around her wrists.  It was a bit easier now since she was able to work her hands around to the front. Not to mention the pain in her shoulder was not as bad.  Aha!  She felt triumphant when the ropes fell off and she rubbed her sore wrists.  Five years in an alternate antihuman dimension taught Fred the skills she needed to survive. She brought her knees up to her chest and quickly worked on the ropes that tied her feet together.  She breathed a sigh of relief when her feet were finally freed.

 

With step one complete, Fred wasted no time to move on to step number two.  Find a weapon.  She knew that being in the trunk of a car meant at some point someone would have to open the lid to let her out.   When that time came, she wanted to be ready.

 

Fred ran her hands carefully yet quickly around the dark trunk.  Her fingertips slid over items that felt like motor oil containers, but unfortunately they turned out to be empty. She continued to walk her fingers around the rough carpet, blindly searching.  Suddenly her index finger touched something long, cold, hard, and metal.  A crowbar.  Perfect

 

Fred smiled as she wrapped her small hand around her newfound weapon and squeezed.  Amazingly, it made her feel safe and somewhat secure.  She began to search again to see what else she could find.  Her hands ran along the edges of the trunk and dipped into the small crevices the trunk walls and the carpet. Then suddenly to her surprise, she found a few little glass vials.

 

Fred picked one up and explored it with her fingers.  It had some sort of label on the front of it and a hard, plastic, screw on top.  She carefully opened the vial and smelled its contents.  Water.  A little vial containing water.  Oh please, God, let it be holy water.

 

After a little more searching, she found nothing else in the trunk she could use.  Now it was just a waiting game.  She could use the crowbar to try to pry the trunk open, but then that would only catch the attention of her abductors.  Not to mention, she didn’t know how fast the car was traveling nor where she was.  She had no intention of jumping out of one fast moving vehicle onto a highway only to be run over by another fast moving vehicle.

 

No, she would lie silently and wait.  She could use the element of surprise; and after that, she could use the element of metal and, hopefully, pain.

 

So Fred situated herself so she could spring up as soon as the trunk opened.  She then closed her eyes and waited.

 

Marilyn Manson blared from the speakers of a midnight black 1970 Cutlass Supreme. The car sped, headlights off, down Interstate 167 en route to Bon Temps, Louisiana.   A handsome Cajun man with unruly black hair and amber colored eyes sat at the wheel and used his perfect night vision to guide the car. His passenger, a young slender toe headed man with bright green eyes drummed his fingers against his jean clad leg.  They sat quietly; and only their heads moved to the rhythm of the music while Marilyn Manson’s voice purred wickedly from the car’s speakers.

Babble babble bitch bitch 

Rebel rebel party party

Sex sex sex and don't forget the "violence"

Blah blah blah got your lovey-dovey sad-and-lonely

Stick your STUPID SLOGAN in:

Everybody sing along,

Are you motherfuckers ready?

For the new shit?

Stand up and admit

tomorrow's never coming.

This is the new shit.

Stand up and admit!


“You know,” the toe headed man’s southern voice broke the silence as he reached forward and turned down the volume, “I’ve been thinkin…”

 

“Feet pue tan*. You be thinkin’ too much.” The dark man replied with a strong Cajun accent.

 

“Yeah, that’s me.  A fuckin’ intellectual.” Toe headed scoffed. “Anyway, of all the places in the all the fuckin’ world, why the hell did she choose Bon Temps for us to meet?”

 

His partner regarded him with amber eyes. “Merde, I dunno.  I jus’ do what she tell me.

 

A pause.

 

“She seem a bit…off to you?”

 

“Off?” the dark one asked.

 

“Come on now, Claude.” Green eyes stared at him, “You know.  Off.  Weird, strange, off her fuckin’ rocker.”

 

“Oui, très étrange.” Claude answered.  “Very strange.  Catin* scares me.”

 

“And yet, you call her a doll.”

 

“Oui.” Claude answered. “Jolie catin.*  But she scare me.  I dunno what she do next.  I dunno why she have me here, doin’ dis for her.”

 

The Cajun suddenly grinned and slowly ran his strong hand up the other man’s leg.

 

“Hey!  Fuck off!!” The younger man pushed the advancing hand away.

 

Claude only laughed. “Perhaps she give me you?”  Amber eyes glittered with mischief.

 

“Pic kee toi.*” The younger man stated, glaring at Claude.

 

“Ah. You offer, Samuel?”

 

Samuel gave Claude a low, warning growl.  His green eyes turned to wolf amber.

 

“Tuat t'en grosse bueche*.”   Samuel’s voice came out in a low growl.

 

Claude laughed once more before turning back to the road. “We be dere soon.  Don’ worry.  You safe,” the vampire leered at Samuel once more. “For now.”

 

“Shut up, Claude, and just drive the fuckin’ car.” Samuel muttered his voice back to normal. He then turned the volume up on the radio and waited anxiously for their destination.


 

Spike walked down the sidewalk from the coffee shop in the direction of Wolfram and Hart.  He let his nose guide him as he followed Fred’s scent. He noticed, however, it did not grow weaker, but stronger.

 

“Now, this is just…weird.” Spike murmured to himself.

 

The scent led him into an empty, dark alley.  Garbage lined the edges and further up in the alley, a cat growled and hissed at a strange noise. Spike filtered Fred’s scent through stench of garbage and urine.  The smell of warm sugar and jasmine was as strong as ever, but Fred was nowhere to be found.

 

An object caught Spike’s attention, and he stopped suddenly, bent down, and picked it up.  It was a woman’s shoe, small, brown, and sleek, with a two inch heel.  He didn’t need to put the foot ware to his nose to know it was Fred’s shoe.  He gave them to Fred for her birthday after she told him she needed a new pair.  Spike ran his fingers slowly over the soft leather.

 

His nose also picked up another scent, coppery, like putting a penny in his mouth.  Fred’s blood.  His eyes scanned the pavement, and sure enough, there were small smears of blood that lead to the other side of the alley.  He followed the trail, which led him to small pool of blood.  Spike touched the now cool liquid and sniffed his fingers.

 

“Werewolf.” He growled. 

 

http://bliss714.livejournal.com/7035.html

Comments

( 2 comments — Leave a comment )
sockmonkeyhere
Oct. 4th, 2010 03:45 pm (UTC)
“Oui, très étrange.” Claude answered. “Very strange. Catin scares me.”



Claude only laughed. “Perhaps she give me you?” Amber eyes glittered with mischief.

Claude is a great character! He's creepy and likable at the same time, and very interesting, and I like his comments about Drusilla.
bliss714
Oct. 4th, 2010 04:28 pm (UTC)
Thank you
Thanks for the review. Yeah, I like Claude. I based him on a friend of my husband. Scary huh? :)

( 2 comments — Leave a comment )

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