ANODYNE

 
Author: Notmanos
Rating: R
Disclaimer:  The characters of Angel are owned by 20th Century Fox and Mutant Enemy; the
character of Wolverine is also owned by 20th Century Fox and Marvel Comics.  No copyright
infringement intended. I'm not making any money off of this, but if you'd like to be a patron of the
arts, I won't object. ;-)  Oh, and Bob and his bunch are all mine - keep your hands off!  

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19

 

She was still not accustomed to violent reality shifts, even though she could easily pull them off herself. Maybe it was just Bob; maybe he had a way of transitioning that was deliberately disorienting. She wouldn’t put it past him.

One minute they were in the world of snakes, and the next, she was stumbling into a bookcase in the eternal library, golden vines withdrawing as if afraid of being touched by her. Bob seemed to keep his footing, but then he knew they were making the jump. “Thanks for the assist, Sy,” he said cheerfully.

The creepy figure of Osiris turned away from his book on the pedestal, only to give Bob a flat eyed glare. “I did not assist you.”

“I know. Ever hear of sarcasm? You should use it sometime. Might loosen up your sphincter.” Bob then clapped his hands together and rubbed them, a noise loud enough in this sepulchral place to make her jump, and she saw, much to her chagrin, that Osiris had reacted the same way. “Well, Jean, where do ya wanna go?”

She glowered at him, unable to believe what he was asking. “Are you asking me to go somewhere with you?”

Bob held his hands wide, as if granting her the world. “Yes. Now, I know you may not like me much now-”

“Now? As opposed to always?”

He ignored that. “- but it had to be done. You can go home now, you know.”

“I always could.”

“Not without causing an apocalypse, darlin’.”

“So? They can be stopped.”

He widened his eyes at her in disbelief, and it was probably meant to be somewhat comical, but it didn’t strike her that way. Nothing about him was particularly funny - not in an amusing way, at the least. “Okay. See, you just proved my point.”

“What point? That you’re an asshole?” Out of the corner of her eyes, she saw the golden vines slinking back down, straightening the books she had inadvertently knocked askew.

“No. No one should have to stop an apocalypse because you got a hankerin’ for Chunky Monkey. People died last time, Jean. In fact, I believe you returnin’ to Earth to kill some set this all off.”

She tried to will her hatred into a palpable force, into something that could reach out and crush his skull, but she felt muzzy, like her head was jammed full of cotton wool. It was his fault, of course - turning the eater on her. “If you had protected Logan like you should have, I wouldn’t have had to save him.”

“Usually he doesn’t need saving.” Bob’s eyes turned suddenly hard, setting into stone. “And none of it excuses you killing everyone you found.”

“Do you know what they were going to do to him? What they were doing to him when I found him? What they had done to many mutants? The fact that the whole city wasn’t rendered a crater in the ground is testament to my restraint.” Maybe she did lose her temper a bit, but she wasn’t about to admit it to this pompous, self-important shithead.

“Did it ever occur to you that there are worse things than death?”

“Hey,” Osiris piped up. “I’d appreciate you not trying to kill my business.”

Bob raised an eyebrow at that, grimacing in distaste. If Osiris was going for a pun, then she agreed with him there. “Your business is always good. You could do without a customer or two.”

“Says you.”

“Fuck off, Bob!” She shouted, not about to stand here and tolerate a bitching contest between these two weirdoes. “I am not a child, and I don’t require a lecture from you. You thought I was “dangerous”? Fine, you solved that “problem”. Now get the fuck out of my face.”

The amount of vitriol seemed to surprise him, which proved exactly what a self-important piece of shit he was. He was the “good guy”, and therefore he couldn’t have done something wrong, even when he did. He held up his hands in mock surrender, took a step back. “Look, Jean -”

“Why aren’t you gone yet?” She snapped bitterly.

He sighed, dropping his hands to his sides. “You can’t transport between dimensions that easily anymore; possibly not at all for the moment. That eater was a psycho. I’m the only one who can get you out of here.”

“I’m certainly not,” Osiris added snidely.

“I don’t care. I’m not going anywhere with you.”

He rolled his eyes, shoulders sagging. “Well, I guess Degei will be bringing the abyss back soon, once he’s done teachin’ it a lesson. But I got the impression you didn’t like snakes.”

“I like them more than you.”

He ran a hand through his hair, and seemed to relent with a shrug. “Fine. But I hope you think this over. I’m really not your enemy.”

“You could fool me.”

He shrugged again, with his hands this time, and the look on his face was subdued, almost sorry. “We all do what we have to do, Jean. And I just couldn’t bring myself to killing you.” And with that, reality seemed to fold around him, making him disappear as if he’d never really been there at all.

She let out a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding, and leaned back against books that smelled both musty and slightly decayed, and were as warm as flesh against her back. How she hated that … thing. And he seemed to be “bonding” himself Logan. Didn’t he, of all people, understand Bob was setting him up for a fall? Bob had plans for him, and no god’s plans were ever good for Humans. It just didn’t work like that. And who would know that better than her?

“You hate him as much as I do, don’t you?” Osiris asked, breaking the silence.

She looked at the oddly skeletal, eerie looking god, who managed to be misshapen yet still far too Humanoid for his own good, and scowled at him. “What gave you that idea, genius?”

He smirked, which looked very unsettling with his bloodless slash of a mouth. “There is a way to make him pay.”

“If there?”

“Yes. If we work together.”

She knew better than to trust him, but the idea of getting even with Bob was undeniably appealing. “Will it be violent?”

Osiris grinned, flashing a large set of needle thin teeth. “Of course. It wouldn’t be fun if it wasn’t.”

Maybe he was a god, and a weak, easily bullied one at that, but no one said she had to like him, or even trust him. She only had to deal with him long enough to hurt Bob.

Then he could fuck off and die, just like the rest of them.

 

20

 

Something was terribly wrong, and he knew it.

But he didn’t care. Quite the opposite, in fact. He never wanted it to be right again.

He had a memory of pain … no, that wasn’t the right word for it. Agony, perhaps. It felt like his nerves were frayed, on fire, his body full of molten shrapnel, some of it piercing him from outside in, and from inside out. It was a universe of pain, but one he was used to - again, if he didn’t hurt, did he know for certain that he was still alive? He could taste blood and metal in his mouth, and something else … something redolent of earth and age, sharp flora and mold.

But then something odd started to happen. It was like a warm wave started to sweep through his body, washing away the pain, leaving behind a curious sensation of pleasure. He felt completely enervated, but in a good way, a sort of post-coital way. He was aware he was unconscious - possibly worse - but again, he didn’t care. He wasn’t dreaming, but he was. A hallucination? No, that didn’t seem right either. Something like both, and something like neither.

He would see a ceiling above him, and then a sky, and then both at once. This visual dissonance didn’t bother him in the least. Why couldn’t they co-exist? His skin felt like it was rippling, gaining its own sentience, warmed by a sun he couldn’t see.

Mariko was there. She was laying beside him on the grass - on the bed; both and neither - he could smell her skin, feel her, and she was melting into him. Literally melting - their flesh was merging, melting together, nerves reaching out like tendrils, entwining, meshing. She started to fill him up even as he diminished, and he realized she was always with him - she had never left him. He was living for her, he just didn’t remember. He hadn’t been just himself for a long time.

And how could he have been? He’d been a hollow man, chewed up and spit out by so many things. How could he be anything but a pastiche, a mosaic man, a collection of cobbled together feelings and parts, because whatever he had been died a long time ago. He just gathered what he could to fill the void, to make him feel like he was still Human, still functioning, still sane … or at least close enough to pass. He was just the shell that was left, the thing that operated on pure instinct, but felt rudderless and terrified if it didn’t have something else, something that didn’t make him realize he was so damn hollow, so empty and alone.

His vision was gone, reduced to a smear of bright colors, a pulsing smudge of light in his head, carrying the percussive tattoo of his bloodstream. Or someone’s - it wasn’t clear, and he didn’t know. He didn’t care either.

Had he ever been sane? He wondered, but right now he didn’t care. He was being reduced to nothing, melted into nothing but random sensations, and it was perfectly okay by him. Yes, it was wrong. It was wrong to feel like he was becoming vapor, something light and fragile and deliquescing on the wind. But it felt so good.

If he was dying, he never wanted to live again.

 

 

****

 

Brendan had never seen an actual demon bar, and didn’t know if he was disappointed or terrified. Probably a bit of both.

He opened the door to be slammed by music so loud he didn’t understand how he hadn’t heard it outside ( and it was My Bloody Valentine - ha! Demons had irony?), and have a sea of a half a dozen faces swivel towards him. Deeply inhuman faces. And maybe not a face at all - was that a pile of slime in the corner?

Did it just move?!

Suddenly a woman slunk (and she did - she slunk. He never saw anyone do that before) up beside him and put her arm around his, pulling him deeper into the bar. “Hey there honey, you look new,” she said, giving him an encouraging smile. She was a pretty young Latina in a red velvet half shirt that looked like little more than a fancy sports bra and a tight black leather mini-skirt with a slit up the side. Even if you considered the spider web patterned stockings and stilettos she wore clothes, she was hardly wearing much at all. Except perfume, so thick it was about to make him sneeze, and in spite of that, he knew she didn’t smell right.

He tried to tug away from her, and she stopped, scrutinizing him with a wrinkled nose, like he was the one that smelled bad. “You’re not completely Human, are you?”

He sniffed hard, and said, “No, I’m half-Brachen.” To demonstrate, he let his useless red spikes come out, just for a second. He was learning to control it, but strong emotions still made it come out on his own. That would be embarrassing on dates if he didn’t get his act together soon.

Her dark eyes remained placid and unimpressed. “Half? A whole half? Not just a quarter or somethin’?”

“No. What are you?”

She made a clicking noise with her tongue and turned away, letting him go. “Blood’s too bitter, then. Damn it! When do the Humans get here?”

“Precisely what part of “demon only bar” aren’t you getting, Lupe?” A somewhat familiar voice said. A green woman emerged from a shadowy hallway in the back, wearing a ratty AC/DC t-shirt that looked about one size too small for her, and low slung blue jeans that gave everyone a glimpse of her extremely green belly. Her tail twitched behind her impatiently as she glared at the vampire. “They don’t.”

“I hear they do sometimes,” Lupe answered, sounding a little snotty. He was suddenly positive she used to be a Valley girl.

“Even if so, see the bar policy?” She pointed behind the semi-circular wooden bar at the front of the room, over the shoulder of an utterly huge Samoan bartender, and Brendan eventually realized she was pointing at a sign that said, in big letters and many languages (only one he recognized), ‘Take Your Kills Outside’. Was it him, or was the fact that they needed an actual policy about it far from comforting? “You wana go Human hunting, you do it away from here.”

She sneered ever so slightly, and then cast a coquettish look at the big bartender. “You’re a Human, aren’t you, tiger? What say you and I go get acquainted?”

The bartender - who must have been six six if he was an inch, and three hundred pounds if he was an ounce - just gave her a gimlet eyed look, like she was an annoying pest five seconds away from being swatted. Lupe must have realized how lamed she seemed, because she rolled her eyes and looked away, strutting towards the door. “Fine. I’ll just go find a more interesting bar. This place is dead anyways.”

“So are you,” Helga pointed out, as she sashayed her butt out of the bar. Her name was Helga, right?

As soon as Lupe was gone, the green woman’s green eyes appraised him. “Oh, hey - one of the mutant kids. You’re name’s, uh … Brandon?”

“Brendan.”

She shrugged. “Close enough. You’re too young to be here.”

That surprised him. “Uh, this is a demon bar. Since when do you follow Human laws?”

“Since when I feel like it,” she replied tartly. “Ain’t you supposed to be in New York anyways?” She then got a funny look on her face. “Logan around here?”

“No - or at least not that I know of. He sent me here, though.”

“To the bar?”

“No, to Los Angeles. To Angel’s actually -” The tension jumped in the bar; he could actually feel it, along with a dozen pairs of eyes, none of which felt overly friendly. “Uh, what did I say?”

Helga pointed to a circular wooden table close by, and said, “Park it here, kiddo.”

Kiddo? Well, he didn’t know how much older Helga was than him. She looked maybe twenties or thirties, but with demons - and a green skinned one at that - how the hell did you tell? He looked around nervously as he crossed the room, wondering why everyone suddenly hated him, and took a seat so his back was to the wall, just in case. Helga straddled her chair, leaning her forearms on the stained table, and whispered, “Angel’s kind of a bad word around town. You don’t want to mention it in mixed company.”

“Oh, I see. I thought he was one of the good guys.”

“Yeah, mostly. Which is why you don’t want to mention him.”

“Huh?”

She sighed wearily, tail flicking behind her like a cat’s. “Some see him as a traitor. Others, well … more likely than not related to or friends with a demon he’s killed. He’s killed a lot of demons. He’s not looked on favorably in the demon community.”

“Oh.” That should have seemed self-evident, and Brendan suddenly felt like a massive idiot. ”Do you hate him?”

“No. I could take him if I wanted. He’s just a vampire. Old, but still, just a vamp. Besides. He’s a friend of Logan’s, and he’d probably be pissed if I dusted him.”

Brendan tried to recall what he knew about Helga. It wasn’t much. Bob brought her in to help with that big multi-dimensional fight a while back (when Matt was still alive), and she and Scott were the only two to return from their group of four, and they were both pretty banged up. Logan’s friend Marcus seemed to know her, as did Logan himself - Angel and Wesley gave that impression too, but never remarked on it. He also got the impression she was Bob’s girlfriend, but he wasn’t completely sure. Scott didn’t seem to like her, which was probably a plus in her favor. “You’re friends with Logan too, huh?”

“That’s one way to put it.”

Did he want to know? Could he guess? Suddenly he wondered what it would be like, sleeping with someone with a tail, and then he realized he would get seriously sidetracked if he kept thinking like that. “Um, uh, I came here to talk to Bob, actually.”

“In that case, you’re out of luck. He’s off taking care of something somewhere else.”

He raised his eyebrows at that. “Could you vague that up a little more?”

“Hey, he is. It’s some kind of higher powered stuff. I know better than to ask now, ‘cause seriously, I don’t want to know.”

“Oh.” In a way, he was relieved, because something about Bob was a little scary. Hot, but scary.

“What did ya wanna talk to him about?”

He didn’t know if he should tell her. How could she help him? But then again, who else could he go to? He was kind of stuck here. “I was wonderin’ … I’ve kinda been kicked out.”

“From where? The mutant school?”

“No, I just had to get away, after …” He couldn’t say it. Fuck him, he couldn’t even think about it without tearing up. So in an attempt to salvage some dignity, he just said, “I had to get outta there. I’m not good with schools.”

“I hear ya. So Logan sent you out here?” She gave him a curious look, like she suspected he was lying to her.

“Yeah. He thought Angel could set me up with a place to stay until I got my shit together. And he did … for a little bit. Now Wesley’s told me I really oughta go back to New York, ‘cause it’s not safe here.”

That made her sit up a little. Wow, she had really great - and really green - boobs. She was kind of pretty … well, for a green chick. “Was he at all specific on why? ‘Cause this is L.A. - it’s never safe here. Especially during pilot filming season.”

He guessed that last bit was a joke, but she seemed serious. “No, he didn’t really say, just said there were some “bad things” happening, and they weren’t sure t hey could protect me. I told them I could protect myself, but he muttered something about no more innocents dying - or maybe it was insects. He really did mutter. And my god, he looked like shit! That’s what really convinced me and freaked me out.”

She rolled her shoulders, a kind of shrug. “Well, he ain’t my type, but I know some people who think he’s attractive -”

“No, I mean, he really looks like shit. Like he hasn’t slept for days, and I swear he had booze exuding from his pores. He wasn’t drunk, but he seemed a little … freaky.”

That really seemed to surprise her. Even her tail stopped twitching. “Holy shit. The unflappable Wes finally flapped? It must be bad.” She paused briefly. “Bob has said there was some bad shit going down, but there usually is somewhere.” She rubbed her forehead, tail briefly flicking in impatience. “Oh god, not another apocalypse. This is so old.”

He just assumed that was a joke, or at least hoped it was. “He wouldn’t tell me what was going on … I told him I wasn’t helpless. I can fight.” She snorted, as if in derision, making him scowl. “Hey, I can. I’m not as fragile as a normal Human. And Logan said I fought well.”

She grimaced in a painful way, like she was trying not to laugh. “Hon, I’m sure you do. But you know he meant that in a “for a kid” way.”

“How the hell would you know that?” He snapped, hating this part. Everybody always treated him like a kid, and he couldn’t remember the last time he was a kid. It was so fucking unfair.

She shook her head, and said, “Be honest here - could you last one minute in a fight with Logan? I‘m not askin‘ if you could take him, just if you could last sixty seconds.”

He just stared at her, not even considering lying, as even he couldn’t make himself buy it. “Is running and hiding an option?”

“No.”

“That’s not a fair question, you know.”

“Oh no? The world is full of things bigger and badder than him, especially when an apocalypse rolls around. Shit, you were there for the Berserkers, weren’t you?”

“Yeah, but I thought those were inter-dimensional beasts or something. I mean, there’s no way things like that can plod around in this dimension, is there? People would see them.”

“Kid, Berserkers have a tendency to eat any Human they find.”

“Oh.” He could see how that would help stay incognito. “Well, what about you? Could you last sixty seconds with Logan?”

“I’ve lasted longer than -” Suddenly she stopped, and looked slightly embarrassed, and he wondered what she had been about to say. Did he really want to know? “ Yeah, easy, sixty seconds. Of course, with those fucking claws of his, he’d probably win eventually, but I could do at least sixty. “ She suddenly looked towards the back of the room, and shouted, “Hey! You get the fuck away from the jukebox, Thrak! Or I’m flushin’ you down the toilet again.”

To Brendan’s disbelief, she was addressing the man sized pile of slime, that oozed away from the jukebox like … well, like a big oozy thing. “That’s alive?”

“In a manner of speaking, yeah. He’s an Igg demon.”

“Ick?”

“No, Igg. But he is pretty icky.”

Maybe it was the lighting - this was a pretty poorly lit bar - but it looked like he left a glistening trail on the floor, like a slug. Oh gross! And when it moved, it made a noise like someone in rubber boots slogging through Jello. And he thought the Berserkers had been bad.

When Helga turned back to him, she had a resolute look on her face, like she was determined to just get this conversation over with. “Okay, I’m gonna assume your parents are out of the picture. What do you wanna do, kid? I mean, you gotta have some goal, some dream. Wanna be in a band?”

“I have no talent.”

“So? When does that stop anyone? Have you seen that American Idol show? Talent’s an impediment to marketing.”

“I don’t want to be a musician. I don’t know what I want to do. I’ve spent my whole life just getting through the day, y’ know? One day at a time, like a twelve stepper, only I wasn’t trying to shake a habit, just survive. I don’t know how to think into the future, not in a realistic way. Maybe I got A.D.D. or something.”

“Naw, you’re just a kid who didn’t have the easiest life. I was kinda like you too, aimless, no idea what I was gonna do when I grew up.”

“And you came to own a bar?”

“Nu-uh, this is really Bob’s bar. I’m just holding down the fort ‘til he gets back. No, I became an assassin.”

He waited for her to add “Just kidding” or otherwise snicker, but she never did. Was she serious? She couldn’t be…although that would explain both why Bob brought her in on that whole apocalypse thing, and why Scott disliked her. And why she thought she could go a round with Logan. Shit. “Uh, I … I don’t think I’m doin’ the assassin thing.”

“Good for you. It’s a limited career with little advancement.” Now that had to be a joke. Right? “Wes couldn’t have kicked you out on the street, no matter how flapped he was.”

Only after a moment did he realize that was a question. “No, but it’s pretty clear they want me on the next flight to New York.”

“But it’s not what you want - and yet, you have no real resources.”

“That’s about it, yeah.”

She considered that a moment, drumming her fingers on the table (even her fingernails were a pale green - how weird was that?), and finally said, “Why don’t I take you over to the Stone Temple? Rags can surely get you set up somewhere.”

“Rags? The celery smelling guy?”

The disgust must have been evident on his face, because she said, “I know, but don’t worry about it. The Stone Temple is a church - a benevolent demon church. They’ll help ya, ‘cause that’s what these places do. It’ll just be temporary, until you figure out where you wanna go. And the Gorgons are good protection if things do hit the fan; they seem to be “hands on” sorts, very protective of their followers. A good thing, if it all goes shitty.”

She probably had a point, but he really didn’t want to end up near that Rags guy. And he wasn’t a follower of the Gorgons, so wouldn’t they pissed if they were all that “hands on”?

Before he could mention his doubts, the door of the bar slammed open, making everyone jump. A man with red hair - a vampire, in full, wrinkly vamp face - stumbled in, almost falling, his jacket smoking like he was on fire. He wasn’t, or at least he wasn’t anymore, but he smelled like burning flesh, and Brendan’s stomach flipped as the vamp leaned on a near by table, almost falling on top of it. “Hel … bad, bad news…” he panted, sounding like he was in pain. If he was really as burned as he smelled, it was possible.

“What?” She asked, standing up and peering behind him out the still open door. There appeared to be nothing but empty, darkened L.A. street out there.

“S-someone, somehow, has just brought back Kalaratri.” With that dramatic announcement, his yellow eyes rolled up inside his head, and he collapsed face first onto the table, sliding off it like an oil slick, smoldering all the way.

Brendan looked at her, wondering what that was about - and was that vamp a friend or something? But the look on her face stilled his voice in his throat. She looked stunned and horrified, eyes wide and jaw slack. She wasn’t even seeing him anymore, just staring at a nothing point somewhere behind him. “Oh fuck,” she gasped, and sounded breathless with the horror of it all. “Bob.”

He wasn’t sure if that was a curse or a prayer.
 


 

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