{"id":1635,"date":"2015-06-24T20:48:15","date_gmt":"2015-06-24T19:48:15","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/goteamfiction.com\/?p=1635"},"modified":"2025-11-21T12:11:38","modified_gmt":"2025-11-21T12:11:38","slug":"a-change-of-season-5-pt-2","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/goteamfiction.com\/index.php\/2015\/06\/24\/a-change-of-season-5-pt-2\/","title":{"rendered":"A Change of Season. 5 Pt2"},"content":{"rendered":"

Notes:<\/strong> By the end of part 2, AI will be ready to move into the hotel. Beginning with part 3 I\u2019m going to move away from the storylines of episodes until the Darla arc is introduced. I want to do one or two parts that explores the growing personal & working relationships for Angel, Cordelia, Wesley & Gunn before the bad times arrive.<\/p>\n

PART 2<\/b><\/b><\/p>\n

Hotel California, by The Eagles<\/i><\/b><\/p>\n

On a dark desert highway, cool wind in my hair. Warm smell of colitis, rising up through the air. Up ahead in the distance, I saw a shimmering light. My head grew heavy and my sight grew dim. I had to stop for the night. There she stood in the doorway. I heard the mission bell. And I was thinking to myself this could be heaven or this could be hell. Then she lit up a candle and she showed me the way. There were voices down the corridor. I thought I heard them say…<\/i><\/b><\/p>\n

**~**<\/p>\n

Prologue<\/b><\/p>\n

Angel, Wesley and Cordelia stood in the large, dust-laden lobby of The Hyperion Hotel. Surrounded by high reaching walls stained and worn with age their eyes drifted over the sheet covered furnishings.<\/p>\n

\u201cSixty-eight rooms, sixty-eight vacancies,\u201d Angel announced, Cordelia thinking he sounded like a Miss America flunky turned too peppy tour guide.<\/p>\n

\u201cCalifornia Spanish, deco influence, I\u2019d say built in the late 1920\u2019s. It appears to have been abandoned for quite some time.\u201d Wesley surmised as he inspected the lobby, the palms of his hands pressed against the backside of his hips.<\/p>\n

\u201cThat\u2019d be my guess. This used to be the heart of Hollywood. No telling how long it\u2019s been empty.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cFrom the looks of it\u2026years.\u201d Cordelia offered her opinion, unconcerned it not had necessarily been asked for. She tugged at one of sheets watching the dust flutter into the stale air. If that crazy vampire thinks I\u2019m gonna help him clean hotel hell he\u2019s\u2026well crazy. Even a vision girl has to set boundaries.<\/i><\/p>\n

\u201cHmm,\u201d Angel hummed spying the strategically unhidden looks of disgust and defiance.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat\u2019s the interest Angel,\u201d Wesley asked. \u201cWhy are we here?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI need you to look into its history. Find out who owns it now and why they\u2019re letting it stay empty.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWho\u2019s the client.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI, uh\u2026we are; Wes, you\u2019ll need to access police files,\u201d Angel continued hurriedly. \u201cFocus on cold cases, homicides, and unsolved missing persons. Start at the beginning, take it up to the present day.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI think Mr. Cryptic Much is trying to tell us something Wesley. So this is the place you wanted to show us? You want this to be our new office and your new home?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou two have already discussed this?\u201d Wesley asked, a little miffed he had not been included in the private conversation. \u201cSo this is more than just a sudden interest in real estate.\u201d It was a statement, maybe even a huff but definitely not a question. \u201cVery well then, the sign out front belongs to Melman Realty and Development, I\u2019ll get the number, start by finding out you has it on the market.\u201d<\/p>\n

\n

Chapter 1<\/b><\/p>\n

\u201cThe hotel officially closed its doors on December 16th, 1979. Oh my, on that morning the concierge, Roland Meeks, made his morning wake-up calls with a twelve gauge shotgun, room to room. The hotel has been empty ever since.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cGuess so, I mean who wants to risk having their head blown off if they oversleep. Hey look at this,\u201d Cordelia added peering into her laptop. \u201cMelman Realty and Development may own the hotel but they can\u2019t tear it down because it was declared a protected historical landmark. They\u2019ve been trying to unload it for ten years\u2026no buyers.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cMmm, no wonder, even a cursory inspection of these records indicates a storied legacy of murder and mayhem dating back to the hotel\u2019s construction in \u201828, when a roofer leapt to his death taking two coworkers with him.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYeah this is all really interesting-not, but what are we doing exactly?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cDoing?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYea doing, I know Angel thinks it\u2019d be a good place to live and operate the agency, and why I have no idea, but why the snooping into the past?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cDidn\u2019t Angel share that detail during your private conversation concerning the hotel; the one that didn\u2019t include me?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cGees Wesley, there was no private conversation and no excluding, paranoid much?\u201d<\/p>\n

Cordelia\u2019s eyebrows rose in surprise as her sight landed on a particular photo. \u201cYou know that cursory inspection thing you were doing, well curse a little deeper and take a look at who was staying at the hotel in 1952.\u201d Cordelia suggested shoving the black and white photo in Wesley\u2019s face.<\/p>\n

Wesley scanned the printout of the old photograph spotting Angel in the background. \u201cWell, now we know one thing for certain.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYup, it\u2019s not that vampires don\u2019t photograph, it\u2019s just that they don\u2019t photograph well.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI mean we now know Angel had a personal connection to The Hyperion.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cSo, why didn\u2019t he just tell us?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cPerhaps he was ashamed to.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHmmm.\u201d Damn brooding, no one knows my pain vampire. Pain in the butt is more like it.<\/i><\/p>\n

***<\/p>\n

He sat in his room, lit a cigarette and listened to the music seeping through the thin barrier of the wall. He brought the glass to his lips.
\nThe sound of gunshot invaded the room un-muffled by frail wood and cheap wallpaper. He drank his blood undaunted by death.<\/i><\/p>\n

The door locked with the bolt of a latch, the bottled blood slipped into the ice bucket.
\n\u201cI\u2019ll be finished here in just two shakes, sir.\u201d
\n\u201cYou\u2019re not the maid.\u201d
\n\u201cI don\u2019t know what you mean.\u201d
\n\u201cThere\u2019s no cleaning trolley outside, those sheets are dirty and you\u2019re the wrong color.\u201d
\n\u201cI\u2019m sorry, the door was open, and I was just…I didn\u2019t mean\u2026\u201d
\n\u201cI\u2019ve got nothing here to steal.\u201d
\n\u201cI wasn\u2019t trying to steal from you, honest; I can explain.\u201d
\n\u201cNot interested, just go.\u201d
\n\u201cI can\u2019t.\u201d
\n\u201cI’ll help you.\u201d
\n\u201cWhere is she? Look pal, this really isn\u2019t something you want to get involved in.\u201d
\n\u201cThat\u2019s true, which is why you\u2019re gonna turn around and go away.\u201d
\n\u201cSend her on out here; that way I don\u2019t have to come in there and get her.\u201d
\nYou\u2019re not coming in here.\u201d
\n\u201cYou won\u2019t mind if I just come in and take a look around then.\u201d
\n\u201cGee, I guess I do mind.\u201d
\n\u201cGosh, I mean that was\u2026I know we got off on the wrong foot, my name is\u2026\u201d
\nThe door slammed shut.<\/p>\n

He stood outside alone, cigarette tucked between two fingers. The sky was clear, the moon and stars hung low.
\n\u201cWorld ends in ten minutes.\u201d
\nHe ignored the intrusion taking another deep pull from his cigarette.
\n\u201cThe guy in 215 killed himself.\u201d
\nShe continued to talk, he continued not to listen.
\n\u201cCan you imagine that wallpaper being the last thing you see before you go?\u201d
\n\u201cMaybe it was the wallpaper that drove him to it.\u201d
\n\u201cI know you didn\u2019t want to help me before, but you did and I need to thank you for that.\u201d \u201cYou\u2019re gonna miss the end of the world.\u201d<\/p>\n

The guy in 215 was murdered. There\u2019ll be police and questions, I though you\u2019d want to know in case you\u2019ve got something to hide.\u201d
\n\u201cEveryone has something to hide.\u201d
\nHe lit her cigarette, she pulled the satchel from under the bed.
\n\u201cWhy take it?\u201d
\n\u201cI don\u2019t know, angry, scared; I\u2019ve been passing since I was 15. My blood isn\u2019t pure, it\u2019s tainted.\u201d
\nHe smiled, slight and brief. \u201cIt\u2019s just blood, it\u2019s all just blood.\u201d
\n\u201cNobody believes that. I\u2019m not one thing or the other. I\u2019m nothing.\u201d
\n\u201cI know what that\u2019s like.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI am something, a thief. What am I going to do? I’m trapped.\u201d
\n\u201cYou’re not trapped.\u201d
\n\u201cIf I leave now it\u2019ll look suspicious, if I stay and the cops find this…\u201d
\n\u201cThey’re not gonna find it, \u2018cause I\u2019m gonna help you.\u201d
\nHe picked up the satchel, placing a hand on her back he led her from the room.<\/p>\n

He stepped from the elevator, the hall full of angry people; they clustered around her.
\n\u201cI didn\u2019t mean anything, please, I\u2019m sorry.\u201d
\n\u201cNow you\u2019re sorry. I thought you didn\u2019t have anything to be sorry for. Stop lying\u201d
\n\u201cIt wasn\u2019t me.\u201d
\nShe looked at him, tears wet her face. She accused him.
\n\u201cIt was him. Look in his room. He\u2019s got blood. He\u2019s a monster.\u201d
\nThey knocked him down beating him relentlessly. They dragged him into the open hallway above the lobby. He didn\u2019t fight back only stared at her until his vision blurred.
\n\u201cGet him over there.\u201d
\n\u201cCome on. String him up.\u201d
\nThe rope was thrown over the rafter, the noose slipped around his neck. She screamed as they pushed him, his body dropping until the rope\u2019s end was reached.
\n\u201cSwing, you freak. Yea, that\u2019s right, you had that coming.\u201d
\nThe sway of his body became still, his eyes closed, the crowd silently melted away.<\/p>\n

He was alone, eyes snapped open. He took hold of the rope above his head pulling himself up and free of the strangling noose. He dropped to the lobby floor below. The evil took form taunting him, laughing at him.<\/p>\n

\u201cWell, I don\u2019t know about you but I\u2019m stuffed. God I love people; don\u2019t you? They feed me their worst and I serve it right back to them and the fear and prejudice turns to certainty and hate and I take another bite. What a beautiful, beautiful dance. Oh, you got your feelings hurt, didn\u2019t you? See what happens when you stick your neck out for them? They throw a rope around it.\u201d<\/p>\n

He wanted to leave, he had learned his lesson but the evil wanted to laugh and taunt and feed.<\/p>\n

\u201cAnd you thought you\u2019d made a friend. News flash you had. That\u2019s what made her the yummiest morsel of all. You reached her buddy, restored her faith in people. Without you she would have been just another appetizer. But you plumped her up good. Now she\u2019s a meal that\u2019s gonna last me a lifetime.\u201d<\/p>\n

He wanted to leave. He had learned his lesson. \u201cTake them all.\u201d<\/p>\n

Angel stood in the hallway looking at the closed door. Room 217, he had lived there once in 1952.<\/p>\n

Turning from the door of his old room Angel headed to the basement. Spying a chair, he used it to reach over the old, dirty piping anchored from the ceiling. His hands tapped over the pipes landing on a familiar object. He pulled the satchel layered in dust like everything else that had been left behind from its hiding place.<\/p>\n

***<\/p>\n

Hours later Wesley and Cordelia sat on the floor; numerous folders arranged in front of them, each dated with the year of its contents.<\/p>\n

Wesley held a newspaper clipping its headline reading Bellhop Arrested For Murder. \u201cFrank Gillnitz, he worked as a bellman the year that Angel was in residence, we should put him in \u201852.”<\/p>\n

\u201cBut he wasn\u2019t executed until \u201854. Shouldn\u2019t we put him in the 1954 folder?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHe wasn’t executed until \u201854, but the crime he committed, the murder of the salesman and the storing of the body in the hotel meat locker occurred in \u201852.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s kind of like a puzzle. The who died horribly because Angel screwed up 50 years ago game. Do you think that\u2019s what he was ashamed to tell us?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cCould be, probably,\u201d Wesley reluctantly admitted.<\/p>\n

\u201cScrew this,\u201d Cordelia hissed scattering the folders with a sweep of her hand. This isn\u2019t solving anything. The broodmeister is gonna have to open up and tell us what happened, then we\u2019ll talk about it. All of us so don\u2019t get whiny about being left out,\u201d she inserted as a warning to Wesley. \u201cThen we can fix it and move on\u2026but hopefully not to hotel hell.\u201d<\/p>\n

Chapter 2<\/strong><\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

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