Past's Present

The steam rose from the manhole cover. The city was dark and foreboding. The boy stood alone. The darkness allowing passers by to ignore him. He could not have been more than 17. Merely a child. Yet he was a child with a mission. He had come to LA for a reason. As he walked the unknown streets he passed shops. Each one looking like the other until they started to have graffiti and boards covering windows. It was then he new he was close. Stopping quickly to look at himself in the window he was startled by the reflection that stared back at him. The face of the reflection was dirty and tired looking. His eyes, which normally sparked with the joys of life, were dull and old. His hair was never normally neat. Curly and uncontrollable was a mass of grease, dull and lifeless. It had been 5 weeks since he had washed it. He pulled his leather jacket round him for warmth and protection. Quickly he walked on.

Kate looked at the scene before her and felt utterly disgusted. She hated these brothel busts. The hate was intensified when she had to bust demon brothels. Technically she shouldn’t be here but she was tired and didn’t feel like a night off. As a Polarie demon rushed at her she avoided its spike and shot a round into its chest. “Shit” she thought, “ I might have needed that shot. She had never been so right in her life.

The sun rose on the city and with it the darkness hid away for a few hours. Cordelia opened the office door and walked in. She couldn’t focus on working until her second cup of coffee. She knew that Angel wouldn’t be up for at least three more hours at the earliest and Wesley was still trying to decipher that manuscript Angel brought back from Wolfram and Hart. It was days like this she missed her father and all his, what was the word, money. Smiling lightly she walked past the leather chair and opened the blind. The light shone into the room and hit the person sleeping in the chair. It woke him instantly and he jumped to his feet. And shrieked. Cordelia screamed even louder than when she got her first credit card bill in. “ God! What is your childhood trauma! “ She screamed at the intruder. The Boy walked forward. He came into the full light and Cordelia looked him over, there was no way he could afford to pay them for Angel’s services. She therefore could indulge in a little insults to this homeless person. However this was cut short by Angel’s entrance. He had heard Cordelia scream from his deep deep sleep. “Cordelia what is it?” He grumbled. He was not a morning person. “It’s this….this person” She stuttered. Angel surveyed the child as the child surveyed Angel. “What’s your name?” Angel asked “ I’m called Zack. And I’ve been told that you might be able to help me.” The boy replied. His accent bearing the hint of a Scottish origin. “Yeah but we only take paying customers” Cordelia hissed. Her cup of coffee getting further and further away. Obviously upset the boy pulled out a wad of money and handed it to Angel. “Here. I need you to help me find someone. I have cash. I can pay you.” Zack glanced at Cordelia. “Who?” Asked Angel, feeling the boy’s pain. “ My father. I have never seen him but I need to find him. I have this photo.” On this Zack dived into his record bag and rummaged about for a couple of seconds. He produced a well worn photo. It had been looked at often and it was faded, but as Zack handed it to Angel there was no doubt who the man in the photo was. The stern face of Wesley looked back at Angel as he felt his dead heart skip a beat. This boy was Wesley’s son.