The Angel's Decision

By DragonMage

Chapter 4

BRIIIIINNNGGG!!

"Oh shit!! I'm late!" Quatre screamed as he jumped out of bed and scrambled to get his things together which, thankfully, he had laid out the night before. He quickly showered, brushed his teeth and changed into a white Polo shirt with khakis and loafers. Then he grabbed his backpack, his leather jacket and the books he had already bought and raced out of the apartment. He was half way out of the door when he remembered his wallet and keys. He quickly grabbed them and slammed the door shut behind him. He took a deep breath and ran.

He jumped into the elevator just when it was sliding close and stood there impatiently as the elevator went down waaay too slow. When the doors finally parted he was out before they were completely open and running down the lobby. He flew through the doors and down the street. Thank god the university was only a few blocks away; he could run that.

He had been trying to get some sleep last night but it had been so hard. He kept on hearing noises and talking upstairs. They just wouldn't stop! A lot of times there were laughter and screams that could rival an opera singer any day. Gods, those people just wouldn't shut up! All night long it had been going on. It had gotten quiet for a few hours and that was when Quatre finally was able to fall sleep only to wake up an hour or so later to some strange screams.

Cursing under his breath, Quatre ran up the university steps and raced for his first class. He had memorized where they were already so he wouldn't be late for his first day of school. Fat chance about that anymore!

Skidding to a stop, Quatre ran through the door before it was shut closed. He stood there for a moment, desperately trying to catch his breath. He looked up and saw that there were almost no seats left. He finally spotted one and made his way over to it. Only when he sat down hard did he realize he was sitting next to his neighbor, the Japanese one.

"Hello," he gasped, waving his hand tiredly.

"Hn."

"Nice to see you too," Quatre sighed as he slumped in his seat and closed his eyes. He had never run so hard in his life. He could feel his cold sweat down the back of his neck and he felt a thin sheen of sweat on his forehead. Licking his dry lips, Quatre swallowed hard and searched through his backpack for some water. He came up triumphant and finished half the bottle by the time the professor began her lesson.

Pulling out a notebook Quatre began to take notes. He looked over at his neighbor and saw he was just sitting there, listening. He thought it was pretty strange he wasn't taking any notes but said nothing and concentrated on his own work.

He had about six pages filled with notes on local lore and legends when the professor came to a halt and began to tell them a little legend. Quatre didn't know why he was taking this class, it didn't help him with his major but he just had to take it when he saw it. Ever since sophomore year of high school he had realized that something's weren't right but he had always pushed them aside. Although, he did begin to get into old legends and supernatural things without really realizing what he was doing. So, here he was now taking a class on the very subject that had haunted him since sophomore year and when all those things had happened.

"Does any of you believe in vampires?"

<Allah, that question again,> Quatre thought a bit dazedly as he watched as a few hands went up, mainly those came from the gothics in the class. <Huh, no surprise there. They believe *they're* vampires themselves.>

"What are vampires?" Professor Anderson asked again.

One girl raised her hand.

"Yes?"

"Vampires are blood drinking creatures of the night," she answered. "They have to drink blood in order to survive."

"Exactly. Are they afraid of stakes, holy water, and the sun?" Professor Anderson asked. "Come on, tell me what you think about them. I want all of your opinions!"

"Of course they're afraid of stakes and holy water and the sun. They're evil creatures and only God can destroy them," a boy said with utmost seriousness.

"Oh, come on, Jacobson! Don't give us that," a blond complained. "Always preaching..."

"First off, are vampires real?" another boy asked.

"No way! That stuff is just a bunch of bull made up by the movies to bring in cash," a red head said, shaking her head.

"Actually," the professor said, "vampire lore has been around for a very, very long time. They're in Greek stories, Roman stories, Byzantine, and several other ancient civilizations. Lamia."

"So, you think they actually exist?" the blond girl asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Maybe. There are many tales of creatures, gods who drank blood and were worshipped by humans. Can vampires possible exist? There's not much proof that they do but there are so many possibilities in this world," Professor Anderson explained. "Have you heard on the news about those two bodies found in the Dumpster?"

"Yeah, the police won't tell us how they were killed," the red head said, nodding. "You don't think...?"

"Anything can happen. I want all of you to write about something that has happened to you that's out of the ordinary," the professor said. "It doesn't have to be long but I want it to be thorough."

"What if we've never experienced something weird? What if all our lives, it's just been a boring repeat of every other day?" a green haired boy asked.

"Think of anything, even if it's something small. Everyone has experienced *something* weird one time or another," Professor Anderson said confidently. She looked down at her wristwatch, then back up at the class. "Well, it looks like our time is up. Good bye. I'll be seeing those papers tomorrow."

Quatre quickly packed up his things and stood up, bumping into his neighbor slightly. He turned and flashed an apologetic smile. "Sorry."

The Japanese boy merely shrugged before walking off.

Clutching his notebook close to his chest Quatre tried to remember what his next class was.

"Hey!"

Quatre turned around and smiled slightly when he saw Dorothy Catalonia jogging towards him. She was dressed in a warm white turtleneck with an Indian patterned vest over it and a gray wool skirt with brown boots. Her backpack was slung carelessly over one shoulder and her long hair was tied back in a loose ponytail.

"So, what did you think of that class?" she asked, smiling slightly. "I didn't know you were in it."

"Same here," Quatre said, nodding. "That class is pretty interesting."

"Yeah! You know, I think Anderson had a point when she pointed out those dead bodies. From what I hear, all their blood had been drained out of their body," Dorothy said quietly.

"Really?"

"Yeah. My roommate's dad is a detective and he had been called when that happened. He let it slip that they had no blood in them," Dorothy explained. "It's crazy, isn't it?"

Quatre nodded, just a bit dazed. "Yeah, crazy." Thoughts swam through his head as he remembered similar things happening back in San Francisco. How many people had ended up missing in his town? How many students ended up on the memorial page of the yearbook? He swallowed hard and pushed away his thoughts. There was no point in spooking himself by remembering perfectly explained deaths of his fellow classmates. Although, a lot of the basketball team had been killed junior year...

Suddenly a piercing scream filled the air.

"Oh, my god!" Dorothy screamed. "Look!"

A crowd had gathered around the back Dumpsters of the University campus near the cafeteria.

Quatre looked over to Dorothy and she nodded. They both ran over to where the crowd had gathered and pushed their way through, trying to get a good view of what had happened. A girl was passed out on the ground with her books scattered everywhere and a few guys and girls knelt down beside her. Someone was screaming for the police.

A single hand hung out of the Dumpster. A very pale and torn hand.

"I'm gonna be sick," Dorothy whispered as she stared, wide-eyed at the sight.

"Wait, what if it's just a mannequin?" Quatre asked reasonably as he pushed his way to the Dumpster with Dorothy behind him. He pushed up the lid, choking as a foul burst of air blew into his face. He turned away and gasped for fresh oxygen. Then he took a deep breath, held it and turned his face back into the Dumpster.

There laid three dead bodies, their necks and wrists were torn and they were as pale as snow. Bruises molted their skin and gave them an eerie look, contrasting purple with white.

"Oh, my god," Dorothy whispered unbelievingly. "Quatre, they're...oh gods, they're dead."

Quatre nodded as he dropped the lid and stepped back from the smelling Dumpster. He could hear the distant sounds of the sirens as he grabbed Dorothy and pulled her away; she was starting to hyperventilate and hysteria was close.

"It's all right, Dorothy," he whispered as he and Dorothy pulled themselves out of the crowd. He took deep breaths, trying desperately to forget the foul smell of death coming from the Dumpster.

"I knew one of them!" Dorothy suddenly screamed. "I knew one of them!"

Quatre blinked and pulled Dorothy close. "I'm sorry."

"Who did that?" Dorothy whispered, shaking her head, as she stood stiff in Quatre's embrace.

"What's going on?" a quiet voice asked behind them.

"Heero!" Dorothy exclaimed, looking at the Japanese boy next to her. "Bodies! Bodies in the Dumpster! Oh, my god! Sylvia!"

"Sylvia's in there?" Heero asked, Prussian eyes widened in shock and horror.

"She's dead!" Dorothy screamed hysterically. "She's dead! Dead!!"

"Shut up, Dorothy. Calm down," Heero said harshly, grabbing Dorothy and giving the girl a good shake. "Just calm down!"

Dorothy was breathing hard now as she tried to catch her breath. But she kept on screaming 'Sylvia' over and over.

Quatre turned around and watched as the police and ambulance appear, clearing away the crowd and trying to get witnesses. One of them spotted the three standing there with Dorothy hysterical and screaming.

"Calm down, Dorothy!" Heero said, trying hard to calm the girl down. He pulled her into his arms and held her tightly, trying to ease her screams.

"Who could have done that?" Quatre whispered, shaking his head as flashes of similar dead bodies ran through his head. <Those bodies looked exactly like the ones back in San Francisco...Gods, no, why here? I left to have some freedom, to get away from all those deaths!>

Heero blinked as Dorothy suddenly passed out in his arms. He bent down and gently laid her out on the grass. Then he looked up and shouted at Quatre or something like that.

"Huh? What--?"

"Get some paramedics over here! She needs some medical attention," Heero said sharply, gesturing down at Dorothy.

Quatre nodded and dropped his things. He was running over to the medics when a couple of policemen stopped him.

"My friend! She fainted!" Quatre managed to say as he tried to get past the police to the medics.

"We'll get some help for her but some said you were the one who opened the Dumpster?" the taller policeman asked.

"Yeah, I was. I went to check it out since I thought it could be a mannequin..." Quatre explained. He shook his head. "Looks like I was wrong."

"All right, we'll help out your friend and then can you cooperate with us and tell us what you saw?" the shorter policeman asked.

"Yeah, sure," Quatre said, nodding.

~*~

The university had been closed for the day as the police investigated the deaths. Heero had a car and drove both Dorothy, who had woken up by then, and Quatre back to the apartment complex.

Quatre helped Dorothy walk as the girl tried to regain her legs. They had given her pure oxygen and that made her light headed. She clutched her backpack tightly, the straps biting into her hands. Quatre wanted to tell her to ease up on the strap but it looked like she wasn't going to at all. She clutched at it like a life line.

Heero walked beside Quatre silently. The Japanese boy was a very quiet person, obviously. Although, he did talk once in a while.

They reached the elevator and silently stepped on it. Heero punched the number of their floor and they all waited.

"Do you think the police will find out who killed Sylvia?" Dorothy asked softly, her eyes distant and slightly dazed. It was the first time she had spoken since she fainted. She had literally remained silently since they let them go after getting a few details from both Quatre and Heero. The press had tried to talk to them but Dorothy freaked out and the police shoved the press away as they got into the car and drove off.

"I don't know, Dorothy. We'll just have to see," Heero said quietly.

"But--What if they never find the murderer!" Dorothy suddenly exclaimed.

"Ssshh, calm down, Dorothy. The police'll find the murderer. He can't keep doing this without being caught. Five people already in the past two days," Quatre said soothingly. "He can't keep going."

"Gods, I hope so. I want whoever did that to Sylvia to rot in Hell," Dorothy said acidly.

"I bet he will," Heero agreed quietly.

The elevator doors slid open and the three stepped out.

"Why don't you two come to my apartment and we'll spend the day in there? Seriously, I doubt any of us wants to spend the rest of the day alone," Quatre said seriously.

"Good idea. I don't want to spend the day doing nothing in my apartment. I'll lose my mind," Dorothy said, shaking her head. "My roommate won't be home till late. She always stays out. She doesn't go to the university."

"All right. Just let me grab a couple of things and I'll be there," Heero said, walking to his own apartment.

Quatre nodded and stuck his key in the door. He turned it and pushed it open. He stepped in and flipped on the lights.

On the coffee table in his living room laid a single dry rose.

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Ooh...I wonder who left the small gift?