...and because it's my journal so I can and why am I making excuses anyway?
But any feedback (especially what I still do wrong *L*) would be appreciated.
Drabble series, AU, Wes as a P.I.
Inspired slightly by Sin City, hence the title.
Overall rating: NC-17
Previous parts: vol. 1, vol. 2, vol. 3 vol. 4
"Fred?" I ask carefully, knowing full well what I can expect now.
It's about small favours. When I'm in a deep shit trouble again, Cordelia works her magic with the Powers that rule this city. With the man whom she claims to love, man who paints black and red on her skin. She says it's okay because that's a hell she had chosen and making choices is all that’s left.
"Fred, I'm sure you remember her. Thin like a stick, totally crazy, sometimes slightly psychotic. Your type," she mutters. "She disappeared yesterday."
It's about favours. Sometimes it's about big ones.
It always starts with a chance meeting. Except this time it wasn't a seedy bar, but a charity function Lilah dragged me to, back in the days when we still cared.
Holland was there, and while my lovely wife did everything, short of fucking him, to fall into his good graces, I saw this dark-haired girl, her smile in contrast with her sad eyes.
Two days later she was in my office, smile set in place, handing me a business card. Card that in the end lead us to a serial killer.
Miss Chase knew things. Surprisingly, she also cared.
“Maybe she wisened up and went back to the hole she came from.”
She grimaced. “That hole is called Texas. We were to meet yesterday and she never came. Her place is a mess. Completely destroyed.”
It’s going to be one of those cases. Pro bono, because I wouldn’t dream of asking Cordelia for money and damn well difficult. Searching the City for a girl like Fred? Suicide mission if I ever saw one.
“Why are you so sure she is in trouble?” I ask finally.
“Well, the ‘help me’ message on the wall was what I call ‘a clue’.”
Fred was like a catnip. She caused men to turn their heads.
She caused them to turn her around, gripping her shoulder, take her home and take her hard.
Some men found her eyes and smile endearing and sweet, and those fell for her. And when you fell for a girl like Fred you stay fallen.
Angel, that creep Knox, Lorne, Charles even, all under her spell.
They all were burning, like moths to her flame. Fred was like a perfect drug. Coming in a handy package, innocent looking, sugar-coated, wrecking your mind, body and soul.
You couldn’t get enough.
Writing. It was the first thing you noticed in Fred’s room.
Covering every wall, every surface, tiny scribbles, rows of numbers, equations...
Then you saw the mess. It really looked as if tornado had been here.
Then you noticed the message.
“Very true-horror of her,” I muttered, walking closer to investigate the dark red letters.
“She loved... loves those movies,” Cordelia walked closer, stepping over a pile of clothes. “Freaked me out. Thought it was blood.”
I touched the thick ‘H’ and shook my head. “Lipstick?”
“Maybe she used whatever was handy,” she offered, adding dryly. “Or maybe it’s Maybelline.”
Ahem. So... I'll go away now.