Angel/Xander, Angel/Spike, Angel/Jack Harkness (all implied/fantasy)Rating:
Pure Crackycrackness. No smut (sorry)Disclaimer:
I don’t Angel, Torchwood or the internet *snorts* no money has or will be made from this fic.Summary:
The ‘pretties’ are all disappearing - Angel is on the case.A/N:
This was written back in November when I was suffering a major case of pretty-block (like writer’s block but much worse)
The Heroic Hunt For The Missing Pretties
Working as a supernatural private investigator had definitely provided some of the stranger days that Angel, the original vampire with a soul, had endured. Today was no exception.
The phone had rung just as he’d closed his eyes and settled down to sleep in his huge and very comfortable bed, it was just after nine am; the time when all good vampires should be sleeping, well the evil ones too actually. He almost never answered it, nearly let it go to machine, but business hadn’t been that busy the last couple of weeks. Perhaps he was getting too good at his job and less people were coming to him because there was nothing to investigate.
He had heard his share of weird things, some of them had chilled him to the bone… none more so than this particular call. It had come from a frantic young man, who was apparently a bit of an amateur writer. It would seem that all was not well in the land of creative writing. In fact, according to his new client, there was someone or thing causing all the ‘pretties’ to disappear.
At first Angel had been confused, he hadn’t understood what the pretties were, so the young man had directed him to a number of different webpages on the internet where he witnessed first hand the power of the pretties ability to produce delicious fiction. Fanfiction was an entirely new concept to the broody vampire, but he could honestly say that he had never made a more welcome discovery. He had continued his research for hours after the call; he wanted to make sure he was thoroughly well read on the implications of the case. It had provided him with a unique new angle on the continued friction between he, Xander and Spike, UST they referred to it; it gave him a lot to think about.
It became obvious that the loss of pretties could become absolutely catastrophic: without them there would be no new ideas for the writers to write, and soon he would have read everything he could find… and then he would be lost too. The pretties were invaluable. He had to find them!
Angel didn’t know if he could handle this case alone, he wasn’t sure if he should call in a slayer or two or even Spike. When he thought about it though, he was worried that they might just take the pretties and keep them for themselves. No, he had to face this arduous task alone.
He followed his first clues. The pretties had very slowly been disappearing for a while now, just here and there very discreetly, so that people didn’t really notice at first. Then there was also the information that this wasn’t just a local issue, it was affecting people all over the world from England to America, which meant that whatever it was it was not only smart but powerful.
It was two pm by the time he went to bed. He slept fitfully, worried about the loss of pretties, was there some sort of accidental vacuum or was it something more sinister, more deliberate? His mind was filled with possibilities.
The vampire searched for days but gathered no clues. What he didn’t realise was that there was no way he would be able to find the pretties by himself. He needed a partner. But Angel was stubborn, and just because he was getting nowhere by himself didn’t mean that he was going to give in and admit that he needed help. He was getting low on ideas though. He’d visited all the demon bars looking for information and found that the demons were in quite a state, it seemed that they were fans of the pretties themselves. He’d trawled internet chat sites for hours looking for clues; hoping to find some crazy beast that he could slay and have done with it. But everyone on there seemed just as bewildered as he was.
Angel thought about laying a trap, trying to create his own pretties and seeing what happened. While he couldn’t write, he could draw, and he wondered if it would affect that the same way. So, he’d silently sat for hours with a pad of paper and some charcoal. The result was a picture of Xander Harris sprawled out on Angel’s bed looking debauched. So the drawing pretties were working.
He set the drawing down on the desk and looked at it. It made him hot just looking at it and he closed his eyes with the image burned into his retinas as he started to try and create the fantasy that went with it. But as fast as it was coming to him it was also slipping away. Angel frowned and tried to cling to the fragments of his own personal pretty but alas it wasn’t to be. When he opened his eyes, there in front of him was a swirling vortex that the last pieces of his pretty Xander fantasy were heading straight for. Acting without thought he grabbed his sword and dove head first into the swirling light, right before it collapsed in on itself.
It seemed like forever passed while he was in the vortex. There was one point when he thought it was going to spit him out, but it didn’t. He could see the fragments of his pretty disappear in front of him from the swirling blue lights. Any second, he expected to follow them, but he never.
“Oof,” Angel let out the rush of air as he landed heavily on the concrete floor. He decided to just lie there a second.
He heard voices approaching, chattering urgently and then there was a man standing over him with a gun pointing down at him, an extremely handsome man at that.
“Well, what do we have here, doesn’t look like usual rift debris,” the man smirked slightly.
Angel sat up not caring about the gun pointed at him and then looked around. “Where am I?” he asked, noticing that the man was joined by another equally pretty man in a suit.
“Where were you before you arrived here?” the man countered with his own question.
“New York,” Angel answered, not because of the gun pointed at him, but because he wanted to get answers as much as the other man. “I’m guessing I’m not there anymore,” he indicated the area around them.
“Nope, definitely not New York,” the suited man told him, he was fiddling with some device that would no doubt have had Fred doing some kind of dance of geekery joy. “I can’t get anything on him, Jack, according to this, he’s dead.”
“Doesn’t look dead to me,” the man with the gun said; who was obviously Jack.
“I can explain that,” Angel told them, filing away the information that suit-guy was Welsh.
“Oh you better believe it,” Jack replied with a deceptively disarming smile.
“It’s a little… far-fetched,”
“Honey, everything we deal with is far-fetched,” Jack said with a flirtatious smile but the gun never wavered.
Angel paid the weapon no attention and got to his feet, dusting off the back of his black slacks. It was chilly in the alley without his leather duster. They were both equal to him in height but he was clearly broader in the shoulders than either of them.
“I’m a vampire,” he started and instantly saw the man’s blue eyes harden, “I have a soul,” he added quickly.
“Whoopdedo, lucky you, or not I suppose,” Jack’s voice was humourless now though.
“Lucky me and lucky every human. I’m a champion of the light, currently I work out of the guise of a supernatural detective agency,” he desperately tried to bring him round.
“Is that so.” Apparently, Jack wasn’t going to be so easy to convince.
“Look, whether you believe me or not, I’m on a mission. You said something about a rift? I followed something into it…something important but it vanished ages before I landed here.”
“A rift in space and time, what’s so important that you’d jump in after it?” Jack lowered the gun.
Angel thought that it meant the man was coming round, but then he noticed the Welshman was holding what appeared to be a stun gun. His luck just kept getting worse.
“Far-fetched?” the suited Welshman interjected, deadpan. He’d never met a vampire before, but Jack hadn’t called him on it, so it would appear that they were real and this man probably was one.
“No… it’s very serious,” Angel replied with a sad shake of his head. “Do you know what fanfic is?”
Ianto’s cheeks heated up and he gave a little embarrassed cough. Sure, he knew what that was, he read enough of it, he’d even dabbled a little with writing some, Owen would come back from the dead and string him up if he ever found out about that little Owen/Janet fic though.
Jack simply smirked. “Oh yeah, I’m familiar. What about it?”
“I had a call a few days ago from a frantic writer, he told me that the pretties were all missing.”
“The pretties?” Jack asked slightly confused.
“They’re what provide the ideas for the stories, without them, the writers have nothing to write,” Angel explained.
“Oh…that’s…” Jack started to say.
“Serious,” cut in Ianto.
“Exactly, so I drew a picture to see if it would affect those
“And did it?” Ianto asked; he knew Jack liked his visual porn just as much as he liked the written kind.
“No, but the resulting…er… fantasy was. It started to slip away from me and when I opened my eyes there was a vortex sucking it all in…so I followed… and the rest you know,” Angel told them.
“The rift is sucking in the pretties?” Ianto asked uncertainly, glancing back and forth between the vampire and his boss.
“It might not be the rift… it might be someone manipulating
the rift,” Jack speculated and indicated for the others to follow him back to the SUV.
“Do you have a name?” Jack asked as the walked, his coat flapping around his calves heroically.
Jack stopped dead and turned to look at him, blue eyes studying carefully. “Angel? As in…” his eyes squeezed closed and then flickered open again. “Well, why the hell didn’t you say that?” He rolled his eyes and started walking again. “Heroes! Always downplaying their parts,” he muttered with a shake of the head. Louder, he said, “Captain Jack Harkness and this is Ianto Jones, we’re Torchwood.”
Angel gave a nod of his head at Ianto at the introduction. “What exactly is Torchwood?” he asked.
“We monitor the rift, usually we get alien technology through, debris etc, sometimes actual alien life forms and even rarer…” Ianto trailed off with a twist of his lips and a slight nod in Angel’s direction.
“The question is, where was the other end of the rift going?” Jack mused, “We need to see if we can reverse manipulate it.”
“So, you’ve heard of him then?” Ianto asked Jack in a whisper as they headed back to the hub in the SUV.
“Yeah, bit of a legend,” he replied.
Angel was in the back seat, listening and processing what they’d told him. Aliens! He might have thought it was a bit far-fetched, but the fact was, he’d fallen out of their so-called rift.
The hub, as Ianto had called it, was like nothing the vampire had ever seen before and that was before he even saw the pterodactyl. They had been met by a very poised black lady who scoffed at the idea of a vampire until he let her take his pulse, listen to his chest and finally take a blood sample. She’d hurried off to analyse it in her little area that was both autopsy and medical bay. The suited Welshman was fiddling with a computer by that time and Jack had disappeared up some stairs. Angel watched it all happening around him to the soundtrack of cascading water.
“Jack, I think I’ve got it,” Ianto said suddenly and the other man reappeared minus the swirly woollen coat.
Angel idly considered that the other man was somewhat outdated in his dress and if it hadn’t been for the other two and the technology around them he might have thought he’d been thrown back in time.
“Lets see it then?” Jack prompted as he scooted in front of the computer console. Another ten minutes of keyboard tapping followed, and after a short while a cup of hot coffee was presented to the vampire.
“So, if you reverse this…rift… where are you going to have it directed to?” Angel asked curiously.
“Cells?” Ianto asked Jack.
Jack gave a half shrug. “Works for me.”
“Right then, we’re all set, Ianto, pull up the live feed to the cells,” Jack instructed.
They all watched as he pressed the button and on the screen showing the cells there appeared a swirling blue vortex. It was quite pretty at first but then stuff started to churn out of it in fragments. It went on for about fifteen minutes before finally onto the pile of debris, a figure tumbled and landed in a heap.
Impassive faces stared at the screen, recognition on everyone’s face. Jack was the first to move and the other two followed him down into the cells.
“Well well, look who we have here,” a cocky voice was starting to say and then stopped dead.
“John,” Jack said.
“Spike,” Angel hissed out. Strangely, his first thought was that he’d let the bleach grow out of his hair, when had he done that?
“How? What? This is unbelievable,” John/Spike laughed.
“What were you doing with the pretties, Spike?” Angel was the first to recover.
“Spike, his name’s John, Captain John Hart,” Jack interrupted.
“Oh, I don’t doubt that you know him as that, but he was Spike before that, and before that…William.”
There was a moment of silence and then Jack exploded, “SPIKE? I was sleeping with SPIKE? William The Bloody? How the hell did I not notice that?”
Spike gave a half-shrug. “Guess I’m just that good.”
“The pretties, Spike,” Angel waved his hand at the mess in front of them.
“Well, there weren’t none that I hadn’t seen or done before where I was stuck, so I thought I’d bring some to me that were going spare,” he said with a slight roll of his shoulders.
“Spare? Spike, you didn’t leave any, you left a universal shortage… where exactly were you?” Angel sputtered in frustration.
Angel blinked, then blinked again. “Of course.”
“I’m not the Spike you knew, he’s still knocking about in this time… He’ll be me in quite some years from now though,” Spike said with a twist of his lips. “You gonna let me out of here or what?”
“The pretties,” Ianto said and pointed at the fragmented debris as it started to shift on the floor, fragments rejoining and shifting.
“Oh no, it’s gonna blow…” Spike warned.
“Yeah, you think it’s bad getting one or two of these babies at a time, you imagine what it’s like getting thousands in one go?”
Jack looked from Ianto to Angel…they all gulped collectively.
“Run!” Ianto shouted.
They were too slow though. Angel threw himself over Jack, ever the hero, as the explosion of pretties rang out through the hub and out into the atmosphere. He blinked, dazed as his mind ran wild with the craziest ideas, some of which were pretty damn hot and weren’t helped by being pressed up against such a handsome man. Oh look there went a pretty about him and the man he was pressed against. Angel didn’t care if he never came back to reality again. He hoped the writers appreciated his sacrifice.
The pretties were returned and the day was saved. ~The End~