Angel’s Encounter
Angel pulled the Turok-han off the old man, snapping the uber-vamp’s neck as he did so. Only the element of surprise and the creature’s comfort in its full stomach had allowed such a quick kill; the Turok-han were never easy to lay low. The old man was badly hurt; Angel knew he’d be dead soon without medical help. Since there was no such thing anymore, he could only try to make the man comfortable until he died.
With a look that told Angel the old man knew that he was dying, he wheezed, “Thank you. I know I am not long for this world, but I thank you.” The stress of speaking sent the old man into a violent coughing spasm.
“Is there anything I can do?” Angel asked, looking longingly at the blood seeping from the old man’s neck, as he bandaged the wound with a strip torn from the old man's shirt.
“Please, help me into my truck,” he said as the coughing subsided.
Angel helped the old man to his feet, the man leaning heavily on Angel for support. Once they reached the truck, the old man gestured to Angel to place him in the passenger seat. Angel helped him into the truck then grabbed the supplies out of the car he’d been driving, ‘hopefully, I’ll be able to get another car when we get where he needs to go,’ Angel thought ruefully. He got into the driver’s seat, tossing his supplies behind the seat. The keys were dangling in the ignition and the truck roared to life as Angel turned the key. He looked at the old man. “Where to?”
The old man slurred his words, “I have failed in my mission. Now, there is only Bakersfield. I have family there.” The old man fell into unconsciousness, broken only by nonsensical mutterings about his failed mission, “the cursed one” and “twin destinies.”
Angel shook his head and drove on, stopping only to force water down the old man’s throat and change his bandages when the blood soaked through. The bleeding had slowed but Angel had killed enough men to know that this one would be dead by morning. He half wondered if he ought to just kill the old man now to end his suffering and perhaps have a small meal for his troubles. As soon as the thought gelled in his head, his stomach turned. Killing a human for food – the very thought made him ill.
Somewhere in what used to be The Valley – there were no more street signs, no more towns to identify, the old man groaned again. His eyelashes fluttered and he stared at Angel for a long time with clouded eyes. Suddenly, the old man's eyes widened and he murmured, “I found you. I cannot believe my luck. At first so bad, and then so good.” The old man coughed again. “Listen to me carefully, I have not much time.”
Angel opened his mouth to object but the old man shook his head in a flopping motion.
His voice was too soft for Angel to hear well, so he stopped the truck and leaned closer, “Look, you should be quiet, save your ener . . . ”
The old man interrupted, “No. I do not have time for reassurances. In Bakersfield, find the family Kalderash. They will know me. Tell them . . . ” he stopped as he was seized by another coughing fit. Once it subsided, he continued, “Tell them I found you. Tell them Yanush said it was okay. They will know what it means. They will take care of you. The time is coming. Too long . . . too long. Yanush said it was okay. You tell them I found you. They will know.” He stopped talking, his breathing labored. He took as deep a breath as he was able before continuing, “Promise me, Angelus, you must promise me.” The old man looked at Angel as his breathing slowed further.
Angel stared at the old man, unable to believe the name the old man had called him. He thought he detected a twinkle in the old man’s eye.
“Yes. I know you. Promise me. All will be well. I found you . . . promise me . . .” the old man murmured as he closed his eyes and his breathing became shallow.
“I promise,” Angel whispered.
“Thank you,” the old man said, a smile playing across his lips as he drifted off to sleep.
Angel knew the old man would not wake again. He listened to the old man’s breathing and could hear his heartbeat slowing. He was forty minutes outside of Bakersfield when the old man took one last ragged breath and his heart finally stopped beating. According to the clock in the dashboard, it was two thirty in the morning. Should he try to find the family Kalderash tonight or wait until tomorrow? ‘Kalderash. Why does that name sound familiar?’ He shook his head. He wouldn’t reach Bakersfield until after three. He decided to find the address in the phone book and start searching tomorrow after sunset. For today, though, he needed a place to sleep. He wondered how badly overrun Bakersfield was, wondered if the Kalderashes still even existed. ‘I guess I’ll find out. Everything, I hope.’
He pulled over at a deserted stretch of highway just before Bakersfield and got out of the truck. Walking to the back he discovered it was loaded down with boxes and books. He examined the trailer attached to the back of the truck and found more boxes and books but enough room to store the old man’s body until tomorrow night. Once he had the old man situated in the trailer, Angel continued on to Bakersfield. He pulled into the town at a little after three-thirty. Everything looked deserted. Not surprising given the time of night but Angel didn’t see any Turok-han or demons either. He pulled into a motel parking lot, got out and checked the office. It had the look and feel of a place long abandoned. Going back outside, he drove the truck around to the rear of the building, making sure it was out of sight from the road. He broke out a window nearest to his parking spot and crawled inside. The moonlight showed dust covering every surface but it looked clean otherwise. ‘Of course, it’s only moonlight,’ Angel thought. He tried the light switch, not surprised when nothing happened. He walked into the bathroom and tried the tap, this time surprised when water ran out. It didn’t look clean even in the dim light so he left the tap open until the water looked clearer. He splashed his face and rubbed his neck then went back into the bedroom. He took the top cover off the bed and hung it over the curtain rod to block whatever light the curtains wouldn’t in the morning. “Okay . . . now I don’t even have the moonlight.” He sighed and took the cover off the window then crossed over to the bed and ran his hand over the sheets. They felt clean and looked fine in the moonlight. ‘Of course, beggars can’t be choosers,’ he thought. He searched the drawers, finding a phone book in the drawer by the phone. He moved closer to the window and opened the phone book. Five Kalderashes; same address, different phone numbers. He tore the page out and put it in his pocket. ‘Tomorrow.’ He re-hung the cover and crawled into the bed. He had promised the old man, so he’d take him to his family but he didn’t like the idea of delaying his return to Sunnydale. Tara was alone, probably hungry, hopefully still safe. He thought about Tara for a moment and could understand what Willow had seen in her. He was grateful for her companionship. They understood each other. She still missed Willow. He still ached for Buffy. Buffy. God how he missed her. Tara understood. He fell asleep thinking about Willow and Tara . . . and Buffy. Always Buffy.
Angel woke late the next evening, with light still showing around the edge of the blanket. Walking into the bathroom, he started the shower. He had no idea what time it was and still felt groggy. Once the water ran clear he stripped down, found a complimentary bar of soap under the sink and stepped into the shower. It was cold so he washed quickly and turned the water off. There were no towels so he let himself air dry before he re-dressed. He could tell the light was waning. “Good. I can find the Kalderashes and be on my way back to Sunnydale.” He started pacing, then stopped, letting out a sigh. “I have no idea how to find these people. Damn!” He took a deep breath and sat down on the edge of the bed. ‘A map would be helpful,’ he thought. ‘Okay. So I look for a gas station, break in and get a map. Problem solved.’ He lay back on the bed to wait for dark, impatient to be on the road again.
He woke with a start, disoriented. He had been dreaming, but the dream was just out of reach. He had been running scared but he didn’t know from what or who or why. Shaking his head, he went back into the bathroom to splash his face with water, hoping to clear the cobwebs. He then walked to the window and lifted the cover. The sun was down; looked like it had been down for awhile. He climbed out of the window, got into the truck and headed into town, surprised to discover that it was after nine.
As it turned out, he didn’t need to break in anywhere. Bakersfield was normal. No demons, no uber-vamps just people. “Curiouser and curiouser,” he murmured. Pulling into a gas station and going inside, he asked the clerk for directions to Dovetail Way.
“You seek the family Kalderash,” an old woman behind him said suspiciously.
“You know them?” Angel asked, hoping the old woman could save him time, getting him back to Tara that much sooner.
“Everyone knows them,” she said dismissing the statement with a wave of her hand. “Why do you seek them?” Her eyes riveted to Angel's face.
“I have a . . . delivery for them,” he said hesitantly. The old woman's stare was unnerving him.
The old woman raised an eyebrow but said nothing. Angel felt himself squirming under her gaze. “Uh . . . Yanush. He said it was okay. He found me.” He watched as the woman’s eyes first widened in surprise then narrowed in distrust. “Come,” she said, walking out the door and leaving Angel no choice but to follow.
“This is your truck?” she demanded.
“No. There was this old man . . . ” he started, but she interrupted him.
“Come,” she said again, climbing into the passenger side.
Angel got in behind the wheel and started the truck. The old woman began wordlessly directing him through town. As they neared the center of town, Angel felt it before he saw it. A powerful energy was emanating from the direction they were heading. As they neared it, Angel saw that it was a compound; a large building surrounded by five smaller ones. He was suddenly very uneasy.
“You have nothing to fear, Angelus. I give you my word,” the old woman said with a knowing smile. She directed him to the center building. It was the center of a pentagram. Paved pathways led to each of the smaller buildings, which seemed to sit at the outer points of the pentagram. She motioned for him to stop the truck. “Come,” she ordered once again.
“Wait. The old man . . . ” He still hadn't told her the man was dead.
“He is dead. He will still be dead when we are finished here. Come,” she commanded, her tone telling him it would be pointless to argue.
Angel followed her into the larger building. It was two floors, completely open. A pentagram was tiled into the floor with sconces for candles placed at each point; spiral staircases in each corner led to the second floor. The second floor was filled with books upon books upon more books. Every wall, except for one, was covered in books. The final wall held several large closed cabinets.
“I don’t . . .” Angel started to say.
“You will. Wait here.” The old woman left the building, returning several moments later with eight or ten more people; men and women of varying ages. They all looked at Angel and he grew uncomfortable under their scrutiny. He could feel their hatred; it was tangible, rolling off them in waves.
One of the young men glared at Angel as he began to speak. “Angelus, the signs have been read. You’re leaving soon. Yanush was looking for you because there isn’t much time.” He stepped up to Angel. “For over a hundred years, our family has cursed your name and rightly so. Yanush read the signs and said it was time to end. Time for twin destinies to lead to shanshu. We knew when Yanush died and we knew that he found you. It was foretold that you would rescue and give him comfort. That you have come is no surprise. It was your destiny to come here to aid our family just as it is your destiny to leave.”
Angel looked blankly at the man as the realization dawned on him. Kalderash. The gypsy clan that had cursed him with his soul.
“Yes. You know who we are . . . and we know who you are,” he sneered. “Yanush said it was time. But he’s dead and he took the answers with him. You and the witch are leaving. The truck is packed for you to take. Yanush put the things you’ll need in the back. We’ll empty the trailer so you and the witch can use it. The Kalderash family protects this town. Go back to the witch and be ready to move. You’ll know. That’s all we know.”
“But . . . ”
“No.
All the answers died with Yanush. You can stay here until the truck
and trailer are ready. Then you’ll go. Only Yanush understood.
We haven’t forgotten and we haven’t forgiven. We’re only doing
what Yanush said had to be done.” With that, the young man turned
and walked away.
The others looked at Angel, some nodded but most just glared, then they all walked away leaving Angel with the old woman who had brought him here.
He looked at her. “I don’t . . . ”
“Noone understands, Angelus. Only Yanush did. Only he knew. We do not know what is to come. We honor Yanush by following his wishes. We will not fight it, as much as it gives us pain to assist you on your journey. But never forget this - you are not welcome here and what is done this day is done from duty, honor and fate, not affection. Yanush only told us that the time had come. That you would leave with the witch and that you and the witch must take the knowledge with you. That is all we know. Sit. The truck will be ready soon then you will leave here. Be prepared, Angelus. When the time comes, you will know it.”
With that, she turned and left Angel wondering where he and Tara were going. And when. And why. And . . . time for what? What is in the truck?
The old woman returned what seemed like an eternity later. “It is time. You have several hours to travel until sunrise.”
Angel stood up and stretched. He looked down at the old woman. “Is there any other information - anything else you can tell me? Where are Tara and I going? When? What’s in the truck that’s so important?”
“All I know, I have told you.”
Angel nodded. “Thank you for all your help.”
The old woman nodded back. “We did it for Yanush. But I thank you for bringing him home. Now go,” she dismissed him with a wave of her hand, turning on her heel and walking away from him.
Angel stared after her for a moment before turning to walk out of the building. The truck was parked outside and the young man who had spoken earlier was standing beside it. He handed Angel the keys. “The things you had in the front of the truck are still there. Don’t unpack the back of the truck. We put a cow in the trailer, in thanks for letting Yanush die in peace and so that you won't be tempted to feed on another human. When you get back to the witch, start putting whatever you want to take with you into the trailer. There isn’t much time. You and the witch need to be ready.”
Angel once again found himself nodding, though a million questions swirled in his mind – questions that the Romney apparently weren't going to answer with anything other than ‘ cuz Yanush said so’. He mentally shrugged and said, “Thank you. I know this wasn’t your idea, but I thank you for your help.”
The young man spat on the ground at Angel’s feet then stared hard at Angel for a long moment. “It was what Yanush said had to be. And you brought him home.” With that, the young man turned and walked away. Angel stood there watching the young man walk away, then got in the truck and headed home.