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Pure Emotion
by Mike Dewar
(Note: I am NOT a C/A shipper! Just thought I'd
share that now, before you get started.)
RATING: PG
FEEDBACK: to aamdewar@iafrica.com
SPOILERS: None (set after the Prodigal - you know, back in the good ol'
pre-Beige-Angel-days. When Wesley was still pretty much a wuss.)
SUMMARY: Cordelia and Angel finally realize they are right for each
other. Or do they?
DISCLAIMER: Angel and all its characters, concepts
etc. belong to Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy. I only own the plot. But
the plot's mine, ya hear?
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Pure Emotion (Prologue) -
What the world needs now...
Angel stalked down the pale, blue-tinted passage. His long black coat
seemed to mirror his internal discontent, swirling about his feet in a
black flurry.
"I'm still not sure this is a good idea..." he muttered nervously to his
companion.
"Shush!" Cordelia ordered sternly, walking along beside him, her heels
clicking on the polished, sanitized floor. "We're here, and you're not
going to back out now."
Angel flinched, and drew his coat around his shoulders as they rounded
the corner. He tensed instinctively as a thin man loomed up in front of
them, extending a bony hand in greeting.
The gangly, almost skeletal figure smiled. A small badge on his white
shirt identified him as 'Richard'.
"Hello, and welcome to the Moonside Recreation and Relaxation Spa. I
trust you found your way here with no trouble?"
"We did," Cordy confirmed. She shot a sidelong glance at Angel. "Even
though someone tried to get lost along the way."
Angel coughed. " I'm not good with directions," he said feebly.
The man inclined his head, thin lips curving upwards. "We are all
travelers on the journey of life," he agreed placidly. "We follow many
paths to reach our destinies, and sometimes we require guidance to reach
them."
" Uh-huh," Cordelia broke in. " But at the moment, I 'require' a facial.
So, if you can, like, point us in the right direction?"
`Richard' smiled even wider. "Third door on the left. Enjoy your
rejuvenation."
As the pair moved off, Angel sighed. "Remind me again why I'm here? I
don't get wrinkles."
Cordelia waved her finger in front of his nose. "You're here because I
went to Hell and back to get into this spa, and there is no way I was
showing up unescorted. It's the trendiest place I could afford on that
measly sum you call a salary, and I'm sure there'll be a few names here
to see me. To get ahead in the acting business, a girl needs to be seen,
and to be seen with two things."
"Uh...luck and talent?"
She shook her head. "Poor, naive, dead person. A handsome man, and a
nice car. Luckily for me, you came as a package."
Angel grimaced. "Yippee."
"Hell and back," she reminded him.
"Done that. This is so much worse."
Cordelia rolled her eyes and dragged him into the facial room.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Angel grunted in pain as well-manicured hands slammed relentlessly into
his shoulders. On the table next to him, Cordelia winced as her own
enthusiastic masseuse jabbed his fingers into the small of her back.
"So, this is healthy," Angel said dryly. "My, the things we learn." He
winced. "Can you calm down a little, please?" he pleaded.
The big masseuse just grinned blankly at him, moving his shovel-like
hands further down Angel's spinal cord.
"I don't think they speak English," Cordelia said grimly. "You'll just
have to tough it out. Ow!"
"Or I could just save this guy the trouble and rip my own backbone out."
Angel grumbled. He flinched again. "And didn't that herbal body shampoo
smell strange to you?"
Cordelia tried to shrug, but was ruthlessly pinned by her masseuse. "It
should smell strange. It's herbal."
"Cordelia, tea is herbal. That doesn't mean it's a good idea to rinse
your entire body with it."
She rolled her eyes. "Quit complaining. You have no idea how hard it was
to book a session at night, so you didn't spontaneously combust or
something." She snorted in response to his warning glance. "They don't
speak English, remember?"
Angel tried to reply, but found his face shoved into a towel as his
masseuse started on his neck. But Cordelia was fairly certain that the
frantic muffling noises he was making were nothing more than the usual
whining. She put Angel out of her mind and tried to enjoy having her
back muscles re-arranged.
Finally, the torturers withdrew and Cordelia sat up, wrapped in a towel.
" There, that wasn't so bad, was it? Now, onto the mud baths."
" Goody," Angel muttered into his towel.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
After the mud baths, there was an exercise room. After the exercise
room, there was a salad bar. After the salad bar, there was another
exercise room, followed by more terracotta bathing. After that, there
was colonic irrigation. Even Cordelia refused to try that.
"It's time for your last session," Richard announced placidly when they
had fended off the disturbingly aggressive irrigation attempt.
"Thank God," Angel muttered, clawing at his hair. The mud had mixed with
his hair gel, and was rapidly congealing into a solid brown cake on his
scalp.
Ignoring him, the bone-thin man continued. "We call it 'the Peace
Room'." He placed his hand upon a smooth white door, and it swung open
to reveal a quiet, empty room, with the walls painted black.
Cordelia nodded. "Okay, cool. Is it good for hair? Because the mud left
mine kinda crusty, you know?" She glanced at Angel. "And let's not even
talk about him."
Richard just kept on talking. "We will place you in this room for
fifteen minutes, to harmonize your aura, which will allow waves of peace
and contentment to suffuse your being. As for the hair, take a long hot
shower."
"Harmonizing auras. Showers. Got it." Cordelia nodded, ignoring Angel's
frantic head-shaking, which was sending brown flakes cascading onto his
shoulders.
"Cordy, enough is eno - "
" Jeez, Angel. Can't you just go with it, and try think about someone
else for a change?" she practically snarled back.
"I sense much darkness in your aura, Angel," 'Richard' said placidly. "
The Room shall soothe it. Please, enter."
The small dark door closed behind them, leaving the two in near-total
darkness.
"Spooky," Cordelia murmured.
"A complete and utter waste of time," the vampire judged, glancing
around at the unexciting dcor. "Why couldn't you have taken Wesley?"
Cordelia snorted. "Please. I have some pride, you know? Besides which,
you're a vampire - don't you find all this spiritual stuff interesting?
You're always chewing ties down in your apartment."
He winced. "Tai Chi, Cordelia. It's called Tai Chi. And I believe in
demons, vampires, ghosts, werewolves, spectres, zombies and witches. Not
in funny herbal baths and 'soothing auras.'"
"Well, what about that guy's comment about your aura?" she challenged.
"He knew you had a dark aura, and you've never been all sunshine and
flowers. Plus, the dead thing."
Angel sighed deeply. "Cordelia, I'm wearing black. That generally
suggests I'm not a bright, happy person. This is just a second-rate con
job, with spotless floors, robot attendants, strange herbs..." Soft
twanging music began to play from a speaker in the roof. " ...and bad
New Age tunes. An expensive waste of time."
"Well, everyone I spoke to swore by it," Cordelia said huffily, sitting
down on the floor.
The vampire crouched down beside her. "Someone actually looked you in
the eyes and told you this place was worthwhile?"
Cordelia looked guilty. "Well, I read it in Cosmo. Same difference.
Look, Angel, just play along, please?" You know the acting thing is
hardly soaring away, but if I can just be seen at the right places, with
the right people..."
Angel looked into her pleading brown eyes, and tried not to feel like he
was kicking a puppy. "All right. Only fifteen minutes more," he agreed,
leaning back against a wall and folding his arms. "How bad can it be?"
The twanging music got louder and soft spotlights began to trace their
way over the walls in slow, flowing patterns. "Why did I say that?" he
wondered to himself.
Cordelia closed her eyes and leaned against him, sighing slightly. Her
dark head nestled into his shoulder and Angel let his eyes close. Maybe
it wasn't that bad, he decided in the quiet darkness behind his eyelids,
holding her in his arms.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
"Thank you for coming," Richard said peaceably. "Do visit again."
Angel nodded, scratching the back of his head and yawning. Most of the
mud had fallen out while they were in the Peace Room, unfortunately
landing on Cordelia's dress as a result. If he was really lucky, she
wouldn't get near a reflective surface until he was long gone.
"See? Not so bad?" Cordy said cheerfully, as the vampire yawned a second
time and stretched. "Hey, talking here, Tonsil-boy!" she complained.
"Sorry, Cor," Angel grinned, slinging an arm around her shoulders. "
Just a bit tired. It felt like we were in there for hours."
Cordelia smiled up at him, white teeth glinting. " Uh-huh. Drive me
home?"
" Sure," he answered, as they approached the door.
The elderly, craggy-faced doorman, dressed in a spotless white suit like
everyone else in the spa, smiled at them as they walked out. "Have a
nice night, sir, ma'am."
"Thanks," Angel said over his shoulder, as they walked into the night.
As they approached the car, she looked up at Angel again, her perfect
features serious. "Angel."
"Hmm?"
"I just want you to know how much I appreciate this. All of this."
Cordelia said sincerely.
His eyes twinkled with amusement. "What can I say, I'm a sucker for a
pretty woman."
Cordelia's lips curved in a sweet smile. "You think I'm pretty?"
Angel looked down at her. "Yes, I do," he answered softly.
Cordelia swallowed. "Oh." There was a question in her eyes, and he
answered it, moving down to press his lips against hers. It was the
gentlest, most wonderful kiss either of them had ever experienced, and
she deepened it, wrapping her arms around his neck with eager strength.
unwilling to break the contact of their lips, they staggered over to
Angel's car. In a single smooth movement, Angel lifted her in his arms
and placed her in his car, then leapt in after her. She giggled as he
moved closer. Then their lips were against each other, and the time for
giggling was over.
The doorman leaned against a wall, smiling warmly as he watched the
couple from afar. "Young love," he commented to the figure next to him.
Richard, his pale eyes intent on the two, merely nodded in agreement.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Pure Emotion - Act 1 -
...is love, sweet love
Wesley sighed. Meticulously, he brushed a speck of dust off his desk. He
looked at the office door. He looked at his watch. Another sigh.
Wesley stood up and paced awkwardly up and down, humming. He looked at
the door. He looked at his watch. He sighed.
"This kind of behaviour is totally ridiculous, Angel," he announced to
his desk. "And I feel - no, too pushy....Angel, could we please have a
talk about - no, too wishy-washy." Wesley pinched the bridge of his
nose, frowning. "Oh, hang it all!" Giving a mental shrug, he meandered
over to a pile of weapons left over from a previous patrol and began to
sort through them.
Wesley held a large double-headed axe up to the morning light, studying
the edge. It was severely notched, and needed hours of sharpening, but
nevertheless he smiled slightly as he remembered the battle that had
damaged it...him and Angel against a dangerous Kangost demon....he'd
saved the day that time. Admittedly, he had saved the day by getting
knocked to the floor and nearly killed, distracting the demon so that
Angel could behead it, but he had helped. He had done something
worthwhile.
It was quite a nice feeling for Wesley. To be needed...to be a
companion-in-arms, not just a gray man in a suit, yelling orders at
Slayers, who would promptly ignore his orders and listen to Mr Giles
instead...
Wesley shook away the bitter thoughts and straightened up, the axe in
his hand. He adjusted his cream-colored jacket.
"Wesley Wyndham-Price, rogue demon hunter," he announced, eyes glaring
challengingly at his desk.
"Wesley Wyndham-Price, rogue demon hunter," he repeated. Not quite
right.
"Wesley Wyndham-Price, rogue demon hunter." No, definitely not.
He squared his jaw and leveled the axe at the desk. "Wes - "
Behind him, he heard the office door open. In a move that would have
done a Slayer proud, Wesley whipped the axe under his jacket and turned,
plastering a happy smile across his features.
"Hi, Wesley," Angel said cheerfully, pulling a shielding blanket off his
head as Cordelia closed the door behind them.
"Hi, Wesley," she said, turning away from the door.
"H-hello," Wesley said faintly, raising a hand in greeting.
Unfortunately, the movement dislodged the axe from its tentative
position tucked under his jacket and it fell with a loud metallic thud
to the floor. With admirable self-control, Wesley managed not to look
down at the axe embedded in the carpet bare inches from his foot.
"Hello," he repeated.
"You're looking slick today," Angel said pleasantly, as he and Cordelia
strolled past him, ignoring the vibrating metal weapon in the floor.
Wesley preened. "Thank you, An -" He caught himself. Stern,
Wyndham-Price, he reminded himself. Stern.
Turning and following the two of them further into the office, he raised
an aggressive finger, "Angel, I know I'm the new man on the team here,
and far be it for me to step out of my place, but we aren't exactly
financially stable, and it certainly reflects badly on the company as a
whole if its owner and one of his employees just stroll in at
eleven-thirty. What if someone had seen you two just come wandering in,
chatting....and uh, giggling? And walking hand in hand?" He paused, the
finger waving vaguely around in the air, his eyebrows raised.
Angel and Cordelia entered the lift, leaving Wesley standing alone,
finger still hovering. "I'll take your suggestions into account," the
vampire told him as he pulled the grate into place. He kissed Cordelia
on the cheek as the lift started downwards.
Wesley just stood there, alone in the office with a large axe stuck in
the floor a few meters away from him. "I think I've finally gone
insane," he told his desk.
The desk, predictably, had little to say in response.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Wesley stared dejectedly at a pile of files. "Uh...the Sanderson case.
How's that one going?" he asked.
"I'll get around to it. Some time," Angel said vaguely, sitting perched
on the edge of Cordelia's desk. He smiled down lovingly at her. "No
problem."
Wesley stiffened. "No problem? Angel, the man is suffering from a
magical curse that will turn him to stone within a week!"
"So?" Cordy asked, staring upwards into Angel's eyes. "That's seven
days. Plenty of time. Angel'll get it done. He always does."
"Thanks for the support, Cor," Angel said, kissing her on the forehead.
Cordelia giggled softly. Wesley valiantly fought the urge to vomit.
They'd been like this for hours, alternately gazing at each other as if
their brains had turned to sludge, and then necking furiously.
He cleared his throat. " Ahem. Ahem. Ahem!"
Angel pulled his lips away from Cordelia's. "What is it, Mr
Cranky-Pants?"
Wesley spluttered. "Cranky-Pants? What kind of a - "
"Oh, relax, Wesley," Cordelia interrupted, still gazing adoringly at the
vampire, "Angel's just teasing, aren't you, my Angel?"
"You always know what I'm thinking," Angel replied, smiling as he moved
down to kiss her again.
"Oh, for the love of God," Wesley groaned. "Please, not again."
Angel pulled back from Cordelia's eager mouth suddenly, frowning. Wesley
lifted his head slightly. "I'll go church every Sunday and always put
extra in the collection tin," he promised hopefully heavenwards.
"You've smudged your lipstick, my love," Angel told Cordelia, smiling.
"Here, let me make it better."
Wesley moved on to a new deity. "Oh, Zeus, King of the Gods, grant this
boon..."
Angel carefully re-applied Cordelia's plum lipstick, then kissed her
nose adoringly.
"Oh, Thor, God of thunder I implore you..."
Angel gently stroked Cordy's cheeks, burying his head in her neck and
kissing her throat.
"Please don't make me turn to demon-worship," Wesley pleaded with the
heavens.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Angel and Cordelia quietly snuggled, sitting together on her desk. As
they sat there, quietly cooing into each other's ears, a single figure
crept past behind them. Lost in the fog of romance, neither noticed the
shadowy form creep down the stairs to Angel's apartment.
Slowly, it eased its way down the steps, pausing with every footstep and
listening to make sure it had not been discovered. Reaching the bottom,
it glided silently across the floor, and tripped over the rug.
"Damn!" Wesley cursed, rubbing his shin. He looked nervously upwards,
but heard nothing move upstairs. Moving quickly, the ex-Watcher crossed
the room, bent down, and carefully opened a large box propped against
one wall. "Love spells...love spells..." he muttered, rummaging through
the box. Scrolls, books and exquisitely carved stone tablets were pulled
out and placed neatly next to the box. A large black-bound tome slipped
from Wesley's hands and thudded to the floor. He winced.
"Hey, Wes!" Angel's voice called down. "You okay?"
Wesley swallowed. "F-fine, Angel! No need to check on me! I'm fine!"
"Okay!"
All was silent once more, and Wesley sighed with relief. He didn't know
much about love spells, but he did recall an incident Mr Giles had
mentioned to him during one of their few discussions that wasn't marked
by bickering and games of one-upmanship...something about that
irritating boy, Xander, and being chased by axe-wielding
females...regardless, he was convinced that it would not be wise to
inform Angel or Cordelia that he suspected a supernatural cause for
their new relationship. Of course, it could be genuine love, but if it
was then he, Wesley Wyndham-Price, was Elvis. And thanks to some cutting
remarks from Cordelia about his dancing prowess, he was painfully aware
that he wasn't likely to be wearing white glitter-suits any time soon.
"Like a giraffe being electrocuted...really, Cordelia, there was no need
to be so cutting...but I digress," he whispered. Wesley opened a book
and prepared himself for some truly serious research.
Two hours later, Wesley had found success. And was now engaged in
finding an aspirin for his raging headache. The music of love had not
been conducive to supernatural research.
Really, it wasn't that hard to find love spells, but they were usually a
little more subtle than the one affecting his comrades, or required
consent from one of both parties. Wesley couldn't see either Angel or
Cordelia using magic to enchant the heart of the other, no matter how
bad their love lives.
His long index finger traced its way down the page. "Spells to bind the
heart...those enchanted are often unpredictable, even violent..."
Visions of a furious Angel and Cordelia, slowly ripping him limb from
limb, loomed in Wesley's thoughts. "...reversing spells must be
extremely specific...the caster, the exact spell used and the location
of the original casting must be known, or else the sorcerer risks
damaging the victim's emotions and minds permanently...often, a sign
that may lead to the source of such a spell, will be something that
causes strife or conflict between the enchanted pair..."
"Wesley?"
"AAAA-Angel!" Wesley yelped.
The vampire peered over his shoulder. "What's up?"
"I'm, er, doing some research on the Sanderson case. Yes. Er..."
"I thought he'd been hit by a transmutation spell? This looks like love
magic to me." Angel's dark eyes bored suspiciously into Wesley.
The ex-Watcher fought the urge to run away and hide. "Uh...well, I, that
is...you see - "
"It's okay, Wes, I understand," Angel said, smiling abruptly and
throwing an arm around his shoulders.
"Y-you do?"
Angel nodded. "Sure. I know you don't get out much, so it must be hard
to get dates...it's not unreasonable to look for some magical backup.
So...who's the lucky lady?"
"Hard to get dates?" Wesley bristled, brushing off Angel's arm. "I'll
have you know, I..." Common sense re-asserted itself. "...I feel
terribly guilty about resorting to spells, but I'm just terrible at
speaking to women."
Angel smirked in a most unangellic way. "I know. I've seen you at
parties, remember? Tongue-tied doesn't even come close...more like no
tongue at all."
Wesley laughed weakly. "No tongue at all. Yes. Funny."
Angel grinned. "Me and Cordy, we're going out for dinner at Frazelli's.
You want to come?"
"No, thank you," Wesley managed. "You go on. Have fun."
The vampire laughed. "You sound like a big brother. Well, seeya, Wes."
Wesley remained where he was until he heard the office door shut
upstairs."Angel? Cordelia?" he called. Wesley paused. "Oh my God, I just
spilt coffee all over this leather chair!" Nothing. No Angel bounding
down the stairs to defend his precious household possessions. Wiping an
errant bead of sweat from his brow, Wesley slumped down on Angel's sofa.
No problem, he told himself, I can deal with this.
No problem? a familiar little voice in the back of his head asked. A man
who can't even get down a flight of stairs without falling over himself
can deal with this?
"I can handle it," he said aloud. "I have a Watcher's training, and my
own experience."
Training didn't help much in Sunnydale, did it? the voice shot back.
"Stop it," he told himself. "If I think negatively, I'll fail at this."
The voice sneered. You don't need negative thoughts to fail. You can do
it just fine on your own.
Wesley sighed in defeat. "I need help."
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Upstairs, in a neat little drawer in his desk, Angel kept a little black
book of useful phone numbers in case of emergency. The neat little
drawer was wrenched open, and Wesley's hands snatched up the little
black book. Frowning with concentration, he flipped through it.
"Doyle. Dead. Unless I can find a decent medium at this time of night, I
don't think he can help."
"Buffy. Hates me, plus she's in Sunnydale."
"Giles. See above."
"The Watcher's Council. Would probably stake Angel on sight."
"Kate. Would probably stake Angel on sight, then arrest Cordy for being
a necrophiliac."
Wesley closed the book. "Looks like I'm on my own," he told himself
grimly. "Wesley Wyndham-Price, rogue demon hunter, off to save the day."
He shook his head as he left the office. It still didn't sound quite
right.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
The waiter smiled to himself.
Always the same, he thought, some young buck wants to impress his date
with how generous he is, so he starts tipping like his money's burning a
hole in his wallet. He smirked. And I go home a very happy man. "Will
that be all, sir?" he said calmly, his voice betraying none of his inner
glee.
"Yep," the dark-haired man said, glancing at his date. " I think we're
good." The waiter nodded politely, gliding away.
"Angel," Cordelia warned teasingly,"that man already looks like he just
won the lottery. If you order any more expensive meals, he'll probably
try to lick your boots clean."
"They're already polished."
"Then he's going to have a very funny-looking tongue," she giggled.
Angel smiled, stroking her hand. "You want anything else, baby?"
Cordelia leaned over and brushed her lips against his. "Yes, but I don't
think it's on the menu."
He grinned. "Why, you little minx..."
"All part of my charm," she said, looking down at her plate. " Now,
remind me what this is again?"
"Angel's hair pasta in a cream and prawn sauce," Angel explained. "It's
really good, trust me."
She raised a forkful of the fine white pasta to her mouth and swallowed
it in a quick motion. "Mmmmm. Angel's hair, huh?"
Angel only smiled.
The food was better than anything Cordelia had ever tasted, literally
melting in her stomach...or maybe that was her heart, every time Angel
looked at her. The connection they had was so amazing; she could hardly
believe they'd never noticed it before. As their waiter scooped up their
plates, Cordelia glanced around the restaurant. She just wanted to look
at something else, to make it all the sweeter when she looked at her
Angel again. Idly, she wondered if this was how Buffy used to feel
around Angel, but she dismissed the thought.
Angel and Buffy just had puppy love, she thought, well, a really old
puppy in Angel's case, but still not true. Me and Angel, we're meant to
be together.
Three tables away, Wesley hunkered down behind a copy of Cosmopolitan
snatched from Cordelia's desk. His grim gaze was fixed on the couple.
He'd been watching them for almost ten minutes, and it was clear the
spell was progressing even faster than he had expected. And their
conversation was becoming more sickening with every minute.
Like Romeo and Juliet on fast-forward, he thought bitterly. And still no
sign of what it was that could be causing their emotions. He bit
viciously into his sandwich. There they were, Angel gazing into
Cordelia's eyes like a lovesick teen, and Cordelia gazing at...at...
"Wesley?" she called, half-rising out of her chair.
Wesley crouched down behind the magazine, trying to look unremarkable.
"Hey, Wes, that you?" Angel called.
Wesley stared grimly at the text before him, shoulders hunched like an
embarrassed vulture. "Sir, I believe those people are trying to call to
you," his waiter said helpfully.
Ears flaming, the ex-Watcher sunk lower into his chair, clutching Cosmo
vaguely before him like a glossy shield. Suddenly, it was ripped out of
his hand.
"Wes! It is you!" Angel said cheerfully, tossing the magazine aside and
sitting down in front of him. Cordelia hovered by his shoulder. "I
thought you weren't coming! Why didn't you come over and talk to us?"
Wesley shrugged pathetically. "Uh...engrossed in my article. Didn't hear
you calling."
Angel picked up the mangled Cosmopolitan and looked at the page. "Didn't
know you were having problems with menstrual cramps, Wesley."
"Yes. Ah. It's for a friend, a woman friend...that is, a friend who is a
woman..." Wesley stuttered desperately.
"Oh?" Angel asked, grinning at him in a conspiratorial fashion. "The
intended castee of your love spell, eh?"
"Love spell?" Cordelia asked curiously, worming her way onto Angel's
lap.
"Wes has got a crush," Angel told her gleefully.
She raised her eyebrows. "Oh? Anyone we know?"
"No!" Wesley blurted out. "Lovely girl. Works at the post office," he
invented frantically. "Met her while I was depositing a check."
Cordelia frowned. "I thought you said she works at the post office?"
"Oh." Wesley's throat seemed to shrink to the thickness of a pencil.
"Well, she er, er, used to work at the bank, then she got fired, so now
she works at the post office."
"Oh, that's a shame," Angel said sympathetically, patting him on the
arm. "Why was she fired?"
Wesley said the first thing that came into his head. "She...she robbed
it."
Angel frowned. "Robbed the bank?"
Wesley's brain caught up with his mouth, but then gave the situation up
for a dead loss. He soldiered on. "Uh-huh."
"You're in love with a bank robber who works at the Post Office,"
Cordelia said slowly.
Wesley nodded rapidly. "Y-yes. Quite a girl."
"I guess so," she said dryly. For a second, both Angel and Cordelia
paused, battling with the totally ridiculous lie, then they glanced at
each other and their features smoothed.
"Lovely," Angel said.
"Very nice," she added.
As the loving couple moved on a new topic, Wesley surreptitiously
cleaned his sweaty palms on a napkin, deeply thankful that love spells
tended to interfere with their victims' thought processes.
"Well, thank you for a lovely evening, Angel," Cordelia said, running a
hand over the vampire's cheek. He smiled and moved closer, knocking a
sauce bottle over as he did so. Piquant Italian tomato sauce flowed over
Cordelia's dress in a red waterfall.
"Oh God, honey, I'm so sorry," Angel apologized. "I'll mop it up..."
Cordelia looked down at her dress and screamed. "Oh, no, I'm sure it's
not that bad - "
Cordelia collapsed in his arms, giving another shriek of pain as the
vision hit her in a whirlwind of agonizing force.
Noticing the other diners staring at them, Wesley stood up, babbling. "
She's very attached to that dress...her mother gave it to her...she's
always been very fragile..."
Cordelia jerked a final time in Angel's arms, and went still. Slowly her
eyes flickered open. "A-Angel?"
"I'm here, baby," he whispered, bathing her temples with Wesley's glass
of water.
Wesley crouched down by them. "What is it?" he hissed. "Cordelia, what
did you see?"
"It hurts..." she moaned.
"Yes, I know, but what did you see? Cordelia, it might be very
important!" A second later, Wesley yelped as Angel's hand closed on his
wrist in a crushing grip.
"My baby is in pain," the vampire snarled, his face inches from Wesley's
pain-contorted features. "She doesn't want you harassing her right now.
Got it?"
Those enchanted are often unpredictable, even violent...
"Consider...it...got..." Wesley squeezed out from between pain-clenched
teeth.
Angel let go. "Good." Turning to Cordelia, he whispered softly, "Are you
okay? Do you want to go home?"
"On the beach, two blocks from here...something's coming out of the
sea...big, nasty and scaly," she said vaguely, the vision still
smouldering in her mind.
Wesley leaned closer, cradling his bruised wrist. "That sounds like some
sort of demon," he whispered. "Angel, might I suggest we investigate?"
"Not now," the vampire snapped. "Cordelia's hurt."
Wesley reviewed his options. Let's see...if I try to get Angel to leave
Cordelia, he'll probably crush my other wrist as well...if I try to make
him understand that she'll be okay without him, he'll probably beat me
unconscious...if I start talking about his sacred duty, he'll pull my
head off like a bottle cap...
He cleared his throat. "Angel, you do realize that Cordelia had this
vision to warn you about the demon, yes? So, the reason she's in pain is
because of the vision. And whose fault are the visions?"
"The Powers," Angel hissed, his eyes narrowing with hate.
Wesley flapped his hands around frantically. "No, no, no. It's the
demon. If it wasn't for the demon, she wouldn't have had the vision, and
she wouldn't have got hurt. See?"
"It's the demon's fault that my baby got hurt," Angel said slowly.
Wesley beamed. "Yes! Exactly."
"Then it's going to die," he snarled, his vampire face coming to the
surface as he stood up.
Wesley looked into the furious yellow-eyed gaze of the man standing in
front of him, and slowly raised a hand. "Check, please?"
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Wesley jogged through the sand beside the enraged vampire, Cordelia a
few steps behind. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw their tracks
stretching back across the beach to the parking lot. Angel's tracks
marched on as straight as an arrow, Cordelia's nearly as unbending. His
own swerved around the beach in a demented zigzag, sand tossed left and
right with every footprint.
The voice giggled. Useless little Wesley...can't even walk straight.
Clumsy little wimp.
Wesley realized that Cordelia had passed him, and hastened to catch up.
"Uh, Angel?"
The vampire wheeled around. "What?" he growled.
"Maybe you could try and look, you know...human? The other pedestrians
were giving us some rather strange looks..."
Angel's face shifted, yellow eyes turning brown. But the lance-like fury
in them was still the same. "Satisfied?"
Wesley gulped. "Entirely." The vampire spun around and dashed away over
the dunes.
Rounding the base of one of the larger dunes, Angel came face-to-face
with a large reptilian figure. Fully a head taller than the vampire, the
sea demon was covered in green scales and a liberal amount of slime. It
snarled as he stepped towards it.
"Because of you," Angel snarled, "my girlfriend got a headache."
The sea demon cocked its head in confusion and hissed quizzically.
Then Angel's fist pounded into its face and the demon staggered back,
green ichor spraying from its jaw. Angel gave it no chance to recover,
wading in with his arms swinging like fleshy hammers. The demon wheezed
and gasped as he sunk blow after furious blow into its belly.
Wesley and Cordelia came to a halt, frozen by the deadly spectacle. "Go
on, Angel! Kick his ass!" Cordelia called to her love.
"Ra, ra!" Wesley added weakly.
Angel half-turned. "Cordeli - " The sea demon's clawed fist mashed his
jaw, spinning him to the ground. Cordelia screamed as Angel staggered
woozily to his feet, the demon looming over him. His face became
vampiric as he raised green-stained fists. "Good shot." It drove a fist
into his stomach, doubling him over.
"Better shot," he gasped, collapsing to his knees. The demon raised its
talons for a killing blow.
Screaming shrilly, Cordelia flew at it, her nails scratching for its
face. Contemptuously, the demon slapped her aside. With a hiss of
victory, it raised a clawed hand and brought it smashing down towards
Angel.
Angel caught it and held it motionless, inches from his head. "You hurt
my Cordelia again..." he snarled, squeezing hard. The demon's hideous
face twisted in pain as the sound of bones cracking cut across the
night. Wesley touched his bruised wrist, wincing in unwilling sympathy
as Angel rose to his feet, forcing the demon to its knees as he did so.
Suddenly, the vampire let go of the monster's wrist. The demon's hissing
sigh of relief was cut off as Angel smashed his fist into its throat,
smashing scaly flesh and shattering bone. Wheezing and gurgling, the
demon toppled to one side and lay still. Angel wiped blood from his jaw.
"Cordelia..."
"Angel..." She threw herself into his arms, crushing her lips against
his fanged mouth.
Wesley sighed.
He looked at his watch and whistled a little tune with exaggerated
patience.
He sighed again.
Finally, seeing that they were unlikely to notice his existence any time
soon, he bent down over the wrecked corpse of the sea demon. "I suppose
four's a crowd," he told it. "Just you and me, then." Taking a scaly
foot in each hand, he began dragging the monster's body towards the sea.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Pure Emotion - Act 2 -
...not just for some, but everyone
The cab driver tried to hide his amused smile, as the third of his three
passengers bid his friends farewell and slumped back into the cab with a
heartfelt sigh. The cabbie could sympathize: the other two had been
necking the entire drive and even he, a regular devotee of X-rated
magazines, had been getting tired of it.
"Where to, Mac?" he asked the man in the rumpled cream suit.
"Carosa Road. And my name isn't Mac," Wesley responded with some
asperity.
"Whatever, Mac."
Wesley rolled his eyes and sunk down into the back seat. It had been a
disaster, complete and total. Wesley Wyndham-Price, off to save the day
indeed. First the spying fiasco, then nearly getting killed by Angel,
then watching as Angel, even while en-spelled, slew the demon while
Wesley stood around like a piece of furniture. Even Cordelia got in a
shot, but he was useless. As always.
"Nice weather isn't it, Mac?" And if that wasn't enough, he was stuck
with one of those damnable talkative American cab drivers. Why couldn't
the man just shut up and drive?
"Lovely," Wesley spat. "Now could you please get a move on?"
The cabbie chuckled. "Sure thing, Mac."
"My name is not - " Wesley let it go with an exhausted wave of his hand.
"Oh, never mind."
"Sure thin -"
"In silence."
The cabbie managed to make it through the few minutes without making any
more noise than occasional whistling, but eventually, his self-control
snapped. "You know the problem with guys like you and me, Mac?"
"Please don't tell me," Wesley pleaded weakly.
"We don't have anyone." The cabbie nodded wisely. "I mean, your buddies
back there, they got each other, they got a relationship...probably a
great love life..." The cabbie whistled in appreciation. "Quite a
hottie, that girl." Wesley drew together the tattered remains of his
dignity to respond.
"Please, sir, do not refer to my friend as a 'hottie'," he said,
squaring his jaw.
"What, so you don't think she's a hottie?"
Wesley squirmed. "No! Yes! Well, of course she's attractive, but I feel
that to refer to her as a 'hottie' is - "
The cabbie grinned. "I bet your friend thinks he's the luckiest guy on
the planet, doesn't he?"
"Actually, he tends to spend most of his time moping in his apartment
and reading substandard French poetry," Wesley said darkly.
"Oh, I don't know. A girl like that, she'd make me as happy as can be,"
the cabbie said, leaning back in his seat and sighing longingly. He
glanced over at his passenger. "Hey, what's up, Mac? You're looking
kinda pale."
"T-turn the car around," Wesley ordered, his stomach cramping with fear.
" Huh? But I thought you wanted to go - "
"Turn it around now!"
The cabbie shrugged, spinning the steering wheel. " Jeez, what'd I say?"
he muttered.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Angel and Cordelia walked into the office, rumpled and yawning. "Wesley?
Where are you?" Angel called.
"In here," Wesley's voice replied from Angel's office.
Cordelia's lips tightened as she marched over to the office, Angel
trailing obediently at her side. "Okay, Wesley, what's your deal?" she
snapped. "You drop us off at my place, we're just chatting on the sofa,
Dennis is making coffee, and then we get the Wesley-panic phone call. At
one in the morning!"
Wesley, who was crouched down behind Angel's desk fiddling with
something, said nothing.
"Wesley!" she snarled.
Wesley shot to his feet, hands tucked behind his back. "Yes, uh, sorry
about that. It was urgent."
Angel shrugged. "We got that. What was so urgent as to merit panicked
one-in-the-morning phone calls?"
Wesley shifted edgily from foot to foot. "I believe you may be in danger
from a spell,"
Angel's face hardened. "Someone wants to put a spell on my Cordelia?"
"On both of you, actually."
Cordelia plopped down in a chair. "So, how do we stop it zapping us?"
she asked matter-of-factly.
Angel noticed a bead of sweat running down Wesley's forehead. "Actually,
I believe it has already, uh, 'zapped' you," the ex-Watcher explained.
Cordelia frowned. "How? We're not newts or anything icky."
"I'm sure we would have noticed anything magical," Angel said, resting a
hand on her shoulder. "Considering how much time we've been spending
together."
Wesley swallowed. "Yes. Well, that's pretty much my point."
"Excuse me?" Cordelia asked. "Vague much?"
"Your...'feelings'...when did you first become aware of them, as such?"
"Wesley, what are you trying to say?" she asked. "Spit it out."
"Well, er, it is my...suspicion, that your relationship, your feelings,
are magically induced," Wesley explained, not meeting their eyes. "A
love spell."
"A love spell," Cordelia said flatly, rising to her feet. "As in, fake
love?"
"I'm afraid so," Wesley agreed awkwardly. He never saw the slap coming,
just felt the stinging pain as his head snapped to one side.
"How dare you," Cordelia said, her voice tightly controlled.
Wesley did not lift a hand to his tender cheek. "I'm sorry, Cordelia,
but all the evidence points one way..."
"How dare you!" she snarled, burying her head in Angel's shoulder. "How
dare you say what we have isn't real? What do you know about it?"
Angel brought his hands up around his love, feeling the dampness of
tears on his black shirt. "I know you can be petty at times, Wesley, but
this...this is just crossing the line. Seeing our happiness, and then
trying to destroy it with lies...how could you? What kind of friend are
you?"
"The kind who doesn't want to see his friends ensorcelled," Wesley
retorted. "I wish it wasn't a spell, but the evidence is quite plain.
Look at yourselves! This childish infatuation is totally out of
character!"
"'Childish infatuation'?" Angel asked softly. Slowly he pushed the
sobbing Cordelia to one side. "I'd kill a man who insulted us like that,
Wesley." His face changed, fangs lengthening, eyes becoming yellow and
filled with vicious anger. "I'd kill you."
"Ditto," Wesley answered, his voice eeriely calm, as he pulled his hand
from behind his back. There was a crossbow in it.
"Wesley? What do think you're doing?" Cordelia asked, her tear-red eyes
staring at him through a curtain of tangled hair.
"This spell has made you both a danger to yourselves and others," Wesley
responded, holding the crossbow perfectly still. "Additionally, should
you consummate your relationship, Angel might become soulless. I can't
allow Angelus to be released on the world."
"So, what then?" Angel hissed. "You're just going to shoot me here and
now? After all I've done for you?"
Wesley's jaw tightened. "If I have to." He reached below Angel's desk,
and tossed a sack onto the floor before the vampire. It jangled as it
hit the floor. "But I hope that won't be necessary. "
Angel slowly opened the sack and pulled out the set of manacles. "You
expect me to just chain myself up like an animal?"
"No," Wesley answered firmly. "I expect you to do what is best for
Cordelia." He stared intently at Angel. "Do you think Angelus would care
one whit for her, spell or no? Do you think he is even capable of love?"
"Angel, don't!" Cordelia pleaded, as the vampire slowly slipped the
cuffs onto his wrists and closed them with a metal click. His eyes never
left Wesley's face.
Wesley let out a sigh he didn't even know he'd been holding in. "All
right, we're all going down to the apartment. You too, Cordelia."
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Ten minutes later, Wesley was finally able to put the crossbow down.
Angel was safely chained to the bed, a task which had been no picnic
with Cordelia yelling at him every step of the way, and Cordelia herself
was safely handcuffed to the bedpost. Of course, in that lull, as Wesley
paused for breath in Angel's kitchen, the voice came back immediately.
Smooth work, Wes, it congratulated him mockingly. Chained the boss to
his bed, handcuffed his secretary...all you need now are some whips and
leather costumes, and then you could film your own porn movie.
"Shut up," he muttered.
So, what's the plan now, huh? Just keep 'em chained up all the time, and
hope you can figure out which one of the five thousand or so love spells
was used on them, so you can undo it?
"Shut up!" he snarled, sitting down at the kitchen table.
"Wesley?" he heard Cordelia calling. "Who are you talking to?" A few
seconds later, "Angel! I think we're being held hostage by a
schizophrenic!"
Wesley clamped his hands over his ears, blocking out Angel's reply. Need
to think, he told himself. Need to think.
Need to think...need to think...Wesley's trying to think...don't hurt
yourself, Wesley... the voice chorused.
Wesley polished his glasses, frowning to himself. "All right. If I want
to counter the spell, I've got to identify it. The best way to do that
is to talk to Cordelia and Angel, see if I can deduce anything."
Crossbow in hand, Wesley walked out of the kitchen, ignoring the voice's
ranting. The chains holding Angel to the bed were holding up well, he
noted, and Cordelia wasn't likely to break out of her handcuffs anytime
soon. Everything was going according to the plan.
What plan?
Ignoring the voice, Wesley leaned against a wall, facing his two
captives. "I have a few questions," he announced.
Cordelia told him in graphic detail what he could do with his questions,
and Angel only growled.
"Right," he said, blinking. "I see."
Whatcha gonna do, Wes? Whatcha gonna do?
Keeping his face a blank mask, Wesley raised the crossbow and pointed it
at Cordelia. "Angel, answer my questions or I will shoot Cordelia."
"You wouldn't be able to pull the trigger," Angel answered, smiling
unpleasantly.
"Is that right?" Wesley asked, raising an eyebrow. "Don't forget, Angel,
I've changed since I worked for the Council. I haven't been a tremendous
success as a demon hunter, I'll grant you, but I'm not a
wet-behind-the-ears Watcher any more. I've changed, Angel. How much, you
don't know. Want to find out?' His eyes turned to Cordelia. "Try me."
Angel's eyes noted the way Wesley's forefinger strained on the trigger.
An inch more pressure, and his Cordelia would be gone forever. Wesley's
finger tightened...."What do you want to know?"
Wesley allowed himself a tight smile as he lowered the crossbow. He was
extremely grateful Angel hadn't noticed that the safety catch was on.
"Tell me about yesterday, before you realized 'your true feelings'."
Angel closed his eyes, thinking back as his face reverted to human.
"Well, we went the office and worked through the day pretty normally.
You were there, you saw." Wesley nodded. "Then, you guys went home, and
I settled in with a good book."
"What book?" Wesley asked, carefully watching the vampire. There had to
be something, some clue... Wesley was well aware that if there wasn't,
then his threatening of Cordelia had probably signed his own death
warrant.
"The Cerastesae Meatus," Angel said.
"Oh, that's a nice one," Wesley said warmly, "I remember I read that
back when I was training to be a Watcher, I -" Angel's irritable growl
brought Wesley back to the present. "Um, do continue."
"And then Cordelia called...she wanted me to go to some spa with her.
Sounded like an image thing, but I went anyway."
Cordelia snorted. "Angel, it was not 'some' spa. It was a high-quality
home of the social jet set!"
"And the cheapest you could get into," Angel countered.
"Please, give me more respect than that!"
Wesley broke in. "If we could just get on with the events of yesterday,
without all this petty bickering..."
Wesley stopped as if pole-axed.
Angel continued, "So we went to the spa, and - "
"Stop talking!" Wesley ordered. "Start bickering again!"
"Huh?" Cordelia asked. "Angel, I knew it, he's gone completely loopy.
Save me from the nut-case!"
Ignoring her, Wesley hurried to the pile of books left by his research.
He ran his finger over the spines, and snatched the desired work from
the pile, sending the rest of the books flying with a sweep of his arm.
He slamrned the book on the table and flipped swiftly to the chapter
he'd been working on and there it was... "Often, a sign that may lead to
the source of such a spell, will be something that causes strife or
conflict between the enchanted pair..." he read aloud. "Yes! Exactly!"
Wesley allowed himself a triumphant grin, raising the book high. "I've
got it!"
" Aren't you supposed to yell 'Eureza'?" Cordelia inquired.
"It's 'Eureka', and well...eureka!"
"Still lost," Angel said sardonically, rattling his chains.
"The spa!"
"The spa," Angel parroted.
"It's the cause of strife and discourse between you. It's got to be the
source of the spell!" Wesley beamed at the two of them.
"Wesley, why are you keeping this up?" Cordelia asked irritably. "We all
know there's no spell. You're just jealous because your bank-robber
girlfriend isn't interested in you."
"Let us go now, and I'll kill you quickly instead of slowly," Angel
suggested.
"I'll have to turn down that lovely proposition," Wesley replied dryly.
"I have work to do."
Crossbow in hand, he strode purposefully up the stairs.
Crossbow in hand, he strode purposefully down the stairs again. "Uh,
where is this spa, exactly?"
"There's a road you have to take, Lesotho or something..." Cordelia
said, her brow wrinkling.
Wesley sighed. "Cordelia, Lesotho is a small African country, not a
street name. You'll have to show me." Unlocking Cordelia's cuffs from
the bedpost, he clipped one cuff on her wrist and one on his own.
Cordelia's face crumpled. " No, don't take me from my Angel..."
"Sorry, Cordelia," Wesley grunted, dragging her up the stairs.
"No! Bring her back!" Angel roared, yanking at his chains, his face
vampiric again. "Bring Cordelia back!"
He roared with wordless fury as his keen ears heard the office door
shut. The bed trembled and shook as he pulled at the chains.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
"Thank you so much," the young man told him.
"This place is wonderful!" his female companion agreed enthusiastically,
wrapping her arm around her boyfriend's waist.
Richard smiled gracefully. "Thank you for coming. Do come again."
As the happy couple left, Richard leaned against the doorframe and
sighed joyously. They'd entered fighting, squabbling...and now they were
happy again, in love, longing for the other's touch. The fact that they
were brother and sister he deemed below his concern. He turned to the
doorman. "We do such good work here, don't we, Henry?"
"We do indeed," Henry confirmed. " We're healers."
"Healers of the soul," Richard agreed.
His hands folded together, he turned to re-enter the blue-tinted
corridors of the spa. As he crossed the threshold, he heard a engine
growling behind him. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw a man and woman
bearing down on him on a large motorcycle, like two knights on a shining
silver mount. Two knights, who were arguing...and handcuffed together.
"I think these two may be in need of healing," Richard remarked to
Henry. Henry and Richard approached the motorcycle as it slid to a halt,
both smiling pleasantly.
"Hello and welcome to the Moonside Recreation and Relaxation Spa. I
trust you found your way here with no trouble?" he said, the practiced
words rolling off his tongue with ease.
The man got off the bike, adjusted his jacket, and leveled a crossbow at
Richard's chest. Richard raised an eyebrow in response. "I'd like to see
someone in charge," the man said grimly.
"He's crazy!" his brunette companion yelped. "He'll kill us all!"
Richard thought that she seemed vaguely familiar. "I sense much distress
in your aura," he said placidly. "Perhaps I could interest you in a
herbal wrap?"
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Angel's arms bulged with strain as he forced them upwards. The manacles
holding his hands to the headboard groaned with stress, the metallic
links stretched to their limit. He kicked spastically with his legs, but
their manacles held as well. With a gasp of exhaustion, Angel went limp,
his exhausted limbs sagging sideways like a puppet with its strings cut.
"Cordelia..." he bit out. "I'm coming..." He applied grim pressure to
his arm bonds, and the entire bed screamed with distress, wood
splintering in several places. "I'm coming..."
------------------------------------------------------------------------
"No, I am not interested in a bloody herbal wrap!" Wesley snarled,
waving the crossbow in the man's face.
He was near the end of his rope - having to face down an enraged Angel,
then driving up to the spa with Cordelia yanking on his arm, and now the
threat of herbal wraps - it was all too much, too fast.
"I want to speak to someone in charge, or I swear I will shoot one of
you white-suited mutton-heads!"
"I see," the thin man said. Turning to the elderly doorman, he said,
"Henry, please go inside. I'll deal with these troubled souls."
"Of course, Richard," the doorman said. "Shall I put a pot of herbal tea
on?"
"Please, do." The older man shuffled off.
Wesley hissed with frustration. "Gentlemen, may I remind you that I am
aiming a large crossbow at you?"
"Believe me, sir, we have not forgotten," Richard answered. "Now, if you
would like to come inside..."
"I want to come inside," Cordelia said eagerly. "It reminds me of Angel
in there."
Richard smiled and led them inside.
Wesley stomped into the spa with bad grace, dragging Cordelia along with
him. "Now, I want to talk to someone in charge." he snapped.
Richard sighed patiently. "Please, sir, show some respect for the halls
of healing."
"You want to talk about respect?" Wesley ground out, waving the crossbow
around violently. " I have been violently assaulted by a friend who I
respect, while sacrificing my own self-respect during some fairly
embarrassing situations in an attempt to help that same friend. In that
respect, don't you think I have a right to be incensed!" Wesley shook
the crossbow at Richard. And then, with a click, the safety gave and it
went off.
The bolt punched into Richard's chest, low, in the belly. His eyes and
mouth went perfectly round as a red stain spread across his crisp, white
shirt.
"My God," Wesley whispered, the crossbow drooping in his hand. "I'm...I
didn't intend...I'm sorry, I'm so sorry..." he told the swaying man,
grief and guilt strangling him.
The voice sneered. Bravo, Wesley! You've killed a man, just like your
greatest failure. Just like Faith.
Richard opened his mouth as if to say something. And his teeth
lengthened into his fangs and his face changed, transforming into a
vampire's mask of fury.
"Oh, thank God, you're not dead!" Wesley burst out, smiling with sheer
relief. Then his smile faded, as his stunned mind grasped the situation.
"But you're a vampire."
Richard snarled, lunging for him.
"Oh dear," Wesley whimpered.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
The bed screamed.
"I'm coming for you, honey....I'm coming...." Angel hissed, pulling
against his bonds in a violent, mechanical rhythm. "I'm coming....I'm
coming!" he howled, as he yanked his arms forward violently, ripping the
headboard clean off the bed. The enraged vampire didn't even notice as
the headboard shattered itself into splinters against his back.
Clenching and unclenching his fists, he bent to his leg chains.
He was coming to claim his love. And to kill the man who had taken her
away from him.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Wesley grunted with pain as Richard's hands seized the front of his
shirt, grabbing cloth and flesh alike. With a powerful sweep of his
arms, the vampire sent Wesley crashing into a wall. Cordelia yelped as
the handcuffs dragged her downwards after him.
Wesley's head exploded with pain as it slammed against the wall with a
dull crack. Woozily, he lay flat on his back, watching through a
blood-red haze as the vampire stalked closer. It raised a foot and
stomped hard on his wrist. Through a cloud of agony, Wesley heard the
metal handcuff crack. The cuff, and his already-injured wrist.
Shrieking, Cordelia rolled to one side, clutching her own freed wrist.
The vampire ignored her as she turned and ran down the corridor.
The blood haze threatened to swallow Wesley as the vampire bent over
him, fangs bared.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Angel sprinted down the pavement, ignoring the protests of those he
shoved aside. Most, after noticing his demon-twisted face, were happy to
let him go. The vampire roared as he dashed down the road.
The small part of his mind that wasn't totally swallowed by rage and
magic-induced love reminded him that he had heard Wesley leave on his
bike...which meant Angel's car was still back at A.I.
The small part of his mind tried vainly to get Angel to understand what
he needed to do.
A few seconds later, the startled pedestrians saw the wild figure loping
towards them again. Those with more presence of mind got out of the way
in advance.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
"Please..." Wesley moaned. "Don't..." The red haze began to close around
him, as the vampire bent closer.
You've done it now, the voice told him. Killed by a vampire. Ironic,
considering your employer, isn't it?
But the vampire froze above him and its features melted back to human.
"Terribly sorry about that," Richard apologized, looking deeply
regretful. "I let my darker impulses take hold. It won't happen again, I
assure you. Are you alright?"
The red haze vanished as Richard helped a dazed Wesley to his feet.
"W-Why aren't you killing me?" he stammered, cradling his damaged wrist
close.
"Why would I do that?" Richard asked, seeming genuinely confused.
Wesley's brows knitted together in semi-concussed confusion. "You're a
vampire. That's what you do. Vampires kill people, unless they're
cursed. You're not cursed, are you?"
Richard laughed. "Actually I feel I am blessed, my friend."
Wesley leaned against a wall, pain and adrenalin combining to make him
feel quite drunk. "You're obviously not cursed. So why are you helping
me? Vampires are blood-drinking demons who enjoy maiming and torture.
They don't usually go in for spiritualism and herbal tea."
Richard sighed. "Yes, that is true. I do recall when I also felt that
way - I joined this spa in order to get easy access to its customers for
my lunch, I'm afraid." He shook his head, seeming near tears. "I am
ashamed to admit that I eviscerated my predecessor to get this job," he
confessed guiltily.
"How sad," Wesley replied, picking his words with care. " So, why did
you change?"
Richard shrugged. "I honestly don't know. I spent a few days working
here, and gradually, as time passed, I began to feel
emotionally...rejuvenated. Of course, with my newfound clarity and
sensitivity, I considered it unacceptable to hurt another being, so I
began to get my meals from the plasma bags kept here for our patients
with blood-related disorders." He shook his head. "I am terribly sorry,
but when you shot me, I must have lost control. You're the first human
I've hurt in months." Absently, Richard ran a finger down the wooden
bolt sticking out of his lower torso.
"No...problem. Entirely...my fault." Wesley reassured him, gingerly
inspecting his wrist.
A radiant smile laid itself over Richard's features. "And as I worked
here, I saw miracles."
"Miracles?"
"Exactly," the vampire confirmed. "People would enter the spa, arguing,
bickering and backstabbing as only LA's socialites can, and they would
leave at peace. Filled with it, in fact, loving themselves and others.
Many developed romantic relationships as a result."
Wesley forgot about his wrist. "Tell me more."
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Cordelia wandered down the empty corridor. She'd run and run, and run
some more...and now, while she was safe from that nutcase Wesley, she
had no idea were she was. She felt a moment's guilt over abandoning
Wesley, crazy though he might be, but ignored it. He had tried to get
between her and Angel, he deserved to die.
Still, if he was still alive, she was getting lonely. "Wesley?" she
called. "Angel?" she asked hopefully. No response. She sighed, glancing
around. The many rooms of the spa, filled with beauty products of all
shapes and sizes, would have excited her once. Now, what was the point
of making herself pretty, without her Angel to admire her?
" Anybody?"
Cordelia was about to break down, overcome with loneliness, when she got
an answer. It wasn't spoken, but it seemed whispered on the air, flowing
down the passageway towards her. It wasn't even expressed in words, but
instead just as a feeling. A wonderful feeling, like the one she got
when Angel smiled at her.
Joy lighting her tear-stained features, Cordelia followed the feeling
towards its source.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Angel leapt out of the car, his shoes thudding on the concrete of the
parking lot. A rumbling growl growing in his throat, he ran towards the
entrance to the spa.
The door slammed back as he flung it open and strode into the building.
Angel rounded a corner, and there he was - the one who had taken
Cordelia away.
He was obviously in pain, and was only standing with the assistance of a
white-clothed man with a crossbow bolt protruding from his belly. If
Angel was in a rational state of mind, he might have thought that
strange, but his mind had room for only one thought.
Wesley looked up at the sound of running footsteps and saw the berserk
vampire running towards him.
The ex-Watcher began to quietly make his peace with God.
Angel shoved Richard aside, ignoring the other's offended yelp, and
grabbed Wesley by the shirt. Much to Wesley's relief, Angel didn't
immediately rip his heart out.
"Where's Cordelia?" Angel snarled, his feral face inches from Wesley's
own pale features.
"I'm not exactly sure..." Wesley began.
Angel slammed him once against the wall, and Wesley could feel the red
haze creeping back. "Where is my Cordelia?"
Wesley shook his head woozily, trying to keep focused on the matter at
hand. "Angel, there's something I need to warn you about. Richard and I
have been talking about this spell of yours - "
Wesley screamed as Angel squeezed his broken wrist. "Where is Cordelia?"
"Excuse me, sir," the white-suited man said. "But you're hurting him."
Angel tossed Wesley aside and wheeled on the new target. " Do you know
where Cordelia is?"
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Even before Cordelia reached it, she knew where the feeling was leading
her.
The Peace Room. That wonderful room where she and Angel had begun to
realize the depth of their feelings, where the whole world had made
sense. The room was still pitch dark, and she could hear the soothing,
hypnotic music issuing from it. The sound brought back memories of their
first visit, of being held safe and comforted in Angel's arms while they
listened to that same music.
Slowly, Cordelia approached the doorway, that wonderful feeling growing
stronger within her with every step.
Right at the doorway, she froze - she wasn't sure why.
Perhaps something about the strangeness of situation penetrated her
magic-confused consciousness.
Perhaps, she simply felt that icy tingle of warning on the back of her
neck which screamed, 'Predator!'
But her hesitation came too late, as a powerful force yanked Cordelia
off her feet and into the room. The door slammed shut behind her with a
click.
Cordy began to scream.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Angel was dangerous inches away from pulling the crossbow bolt out of
Richard's chest and ramming it into his head when Cordelia's scream rang
down the corridor.
"I'm coming!" he roared, turning and bounding away like a bloodhound on
the scent.
Wesley staggered after him, clutching his crossbow in one hand and
holding his injured one away from his body as best he could.
He could barely feel it any more. He wondered if that was a good thing.
Richard glided placidly alongside him. "She is obviously in turmoil," he
told Wesley.
"Thank you for informing me of that," Wesley said grimly. "I never would
have noticed."
They hurried around a corner to see Angel staring impotently at a heavy,
closed door. Behind it, Cordelia shrieked again. "Cordy!" Angel screamed
in anguished response.
Wesley staggered to his side, his stomach lurching with fear as Cordelia
screamed a third time. "Angel, about this place, there's something you
should know..."
Ignoring Wesley, Angel hurled himself at the door. The vampire clawed
and tore at it in a frenzy, trying to get at his suffering love.
Splinters flew and wood cracked as he pounded the door, but it held.
Angel lurched back in surprise as the entire building shook with an
angry rumble and blood began pour from the cracks in the door.
"...it's alive." Wesley finished.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
When Cordelia had entered the room, at first she had felt very, very
cold.
But rapidly that chill had been replaced by pain. Numbing, agonizing
pain, worse than a vision even, had rapidly flooded her body.
Dimly she was aware of the door shaking, of Angel's cries, and she knew
her love was trying to get inside.
But the pain was too great for her to respond. Weakly, Cordelia curled
into a ball and rocked herself as the pain mounted a new assault. She
felt it raging and tearing like a presence inside her.
She wondered if there'd be anything left of her when it was sated.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Angel stared at the bleeding door. "Explain," he ordered Wesley, shocked
out of his consuming rage for a moment or two.
"I don't have time for details," Wesley said hastily, "but in essence,
the entire building is alive."
He swallowed and tried to straighten out the facts in his head. "It
feasts off negative emotions, increasing your positive ones as a result.
That's why when you and Cordelia were here, you fell in love. Without
any of the natural emotional barriers between you: embarrassment, fear
of rejection, that sort of thing, your positive emotions went wild and
latched on to the nearest things: each other. Your own friendship
probably contributed as well, since you had an intimate relationship
already. Your out-of-control emotions just took it to the next level, so
that-"
"Shut up!" Angel yelled, his face contorting with sudden anger.
Wesley blanched. "What? Please don't hit me again."
Angel growled, deep in his throat. "I don't want to hear the theory. I
just want to know how to get to Cordelia."
Wesley nodded jerkily. "Well, my separating you two drove your emotions
to unprecedented heights, so the building's in the middle of a feeding
frenzy. That room is its focus, the centre of its influence, so to
speak."
"Wesley..."
"We need to get Cordelia out of there soon or she might be emotionally
crippled forever," he finished in a rush.
Richard raised his hand. "How do we get her out?"
Wesley squared his jaw. "Well, I imagine we just bash the bloody door
down. Richard, you take the left side; Angel, you take the right, and
I'll take the middle," he ordered. The vampires looked at each other.
"Now, damnit!" The three positioned themselves as instructed, their
hands resting on the bleeding door. "All right, push on three..."
This is it, Wesley, the voice whispered to him. The crunch time. The
time you always fail at.
"One!"
Come on, Wes. Strain those wimpy little muscles...
"Two!"
Please. You and the vampires are going to force a door that's several
inches thick, and controlled by a sentient building, no less?
"Three!" Wesley roared, throwing his shoulder at the door. Beside him,
Angel and Richard grunted with effort. The door did not move.
Having trouble there?
"Again!"
Give it up, Wyndham-Price. You've never amounted to anything. You never
will.
"Again!"
You're a failure. A failure as a Watcher, as a demon hunter, as a human
being. Failure after failure after failure...
"Again!" Wesley screamed. The door shifted, creaking.
You'll never amount to anything. You're worthless. Completely worthless,
the voice told him. But there was hint of uncertainty in its smug tone.
"Again!" The door shook as the three shoulders slammed against it.
Useless...useless...pointless, never good enough...
"Again!"
With a sickening crunch, Wesley drove his shoulder hard into the wood.
He felt bone grind against bone in his arm, and screamed in response.
But the door screamed as well, crashing open.
As Wesley collapsed, Angel leapt past him, scooping the shrieking
Cordelia into his arms. As she subsided into hysterical sobbing, Wesley
slumped against the wall, struggling for breath.
But an insistent voice dragged him to his feet again.
Not finished, Wesley...resting with the job half-done are we?
"Oh, bloody hell," he muttered, and limped slowly past Cordelia and
Angel into the Peace Room.
He swayed as he hefted his crossbow in one hand, gripping it like a
club. Then he slammed it against one of the room's featureless black
walls.
The wooden weapon splintered as he bashed it against the wall again.
Blood oozed from fresh cracks in the wall, the black paint peeling aside
like torn skin. Angel seemed to get the idea as well, pushing Cordelia
gently aside and slamming his fist into one of the walls. Richard began
to kick at the skirting boards, causing a series of moans to erupt from
the black surface. Finally, Cordelia rose to her feet as well, clawing
at the paint with her nails.
Between them, they slowly tore the room apart.
Wesley didn't see it, though.
After his first two strokes he had collapsed in a boneless heap on the
floor, his ruined crossbow still held tightly in his hand.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
"So, how are the lovebirds this morning?" Wesley asked pleasantly as he
carefully levered the office door open with his good hand.
Cordelia looked up from her desk. "You're awfully cheery for someone
with his entire arm in a cast," she noted flatly.
"Tough as a rock," Wesley responded with mock-bravado, pounding his
cast-free hand against his chest. He sucked in a breath sharply. "Ow..."
Angel made his way quickly to the staggering ex-Watcher and helped him
to a chair. "Thanks."
"The least I could do," Angel said guiltily.
"Some rock," Cordelia remarked. The `lovebirds' crack hadn't improved
her mood any.
"I shall ignore that," Wesley said, settling into his chair and
awkwardly shifting his cast until it rested comfortably.
"Good idea," Angel muttered. The erstwhile love of his life shot a glare
at him.
Wesley smiled thinly. "Yes. Well. I managed to get some early-morning
one-handed research done - if anyone's interested, of course. "
"Jeez, Wes," Cordelia said. "You ever sleep?"
"I trust you have never tried to sleep with an arm in plaster cast,"
Wesley answered. "It's a lot harder than you might think."
"Speaking of which," Angel broke in. "Why are you even mobile? Shouldn't
you be in a hospital, being waited on hand-and-foot by an attractive
nurse?"
"Believe me, being waited on by my nurse would be nothing to crow
about," he responded grimly. "Face like a Kailiff demon. Besides which,
the doctor told me in no uncertain terms that my arm and wrist were
merely sprained and that, and I quote, 'I don't have any time for idiots
who get into fights with people twice their size.'"
"Well, that's not very accurate," Cordelia said.
"Indeed."
"I mean Angel's roughly your height and all."
Angel coughed awkwardly. "Uh, you mentioned research?"
Wesley leaned back in his chair. "Yes. Apparently, the Moonside Spa was
built on the wreckage of an entirely different kind of spiritual center.
The Far Realm of the Stars, it was called. A rather nasty cult, which
blew itself to bits as part of an unpleasant ritual some time ago."
"And exploding bad guys leads to love spells how?" Cordelia inquired.
"Well, it seems that Moonside became home to a malevolent spirit of
sorts. But rather than simply being the consciousness of a single dead
individual - "
" - like Dennis."
"Yes, like Dennis, it was more of a collection of negative emotions and
energies. A type of 'bad vibe' to the whole place. Over the years, the
existing energy attracted and fed off other negative energies, growing
larger and actively 'infecting' the area. The Peace Room was probably
situated where most of the cult members died, so when people were placed
in it, the entity could siphon off their negative feelings and emotions.
There's supposed to be a balance of positive and negative in the
body..."
" ....like Ying and Yang," Angel interrupted.
He nodded. "Exactly. Without the negative, the positive energies went
wild, often resulting in unwarranted...affections developing between
people. It had a similar effect on that vampire, Richard, but since he
was soulless and severely lacking in positive energy, he simply became
unusually placid and calm." Wesley paused. "What happened to him, by the
way?"
"I staked him," Angel said simply. " I should have noticed he was a
vampire when I first saw him, but..."
"But?" Cordelia said. "What's the point of being Dark-Avenger guy if you
can't spot the bad guys?"
Angel smiled sheepishly. "With all those herbs in that place, I wouldn't
have smelt if Cordelia was a vampire." He winced. "Particularly after
the herbal wrap."
"Interesting..." Wesley said, scratching thoughtfully at his cast. He
brightened. "Maybe we could use that! Wear heavily scented clothes, so
vampires couldn't smell us coming?"
Angel raised his eyebrows. "But they'd smell lots of really strong herbs
instead. I think that would attract a little unwanted attention."
"Oh," Wesley muttered. "Well, maybe we could - "
"Actually hear the end of your twisted little explanation?" Cordelia
hinted.
"Right," he acknowledged. "When I separated you two by force, it drove
your emotional balance totally insane. The spirit was so aroused by
Cordelia's wildly fluctuating energies that it actively drew her towards
its focus, the Peace Room, and then proceeded to try and suck her dry of
all emotions, positive and negative."
Cordelia shivered. "Creepy."
"Exceptionally creepy. Considering that we damaged the physical
representation of its focus, I imagine the spirit is ttemporarily
dormant now, in a kind of 'psychic shock'. Since the spa-owners kept the
Peace Room in a kind of emotional and physical vacuum: empty, painted
black, with only calm people entering to 'harmonize their auras', I
think it had never really felt pain before. When we ripped up the walls,
I imagine we gave it quite a start. I don't know how long it'll be
resting for, though..."
"I wouldn't worry," Angel said, smiling quietly. "I believe several of
the wealthy patrons of the spa have suddenly found themselves married to
people who they can't stand. I don't imagine the spa will last very long
after that."
"Excellent," Wesley said, smiling. " Only one more query then."
"Just one?" Cordelia asked sarcastically.
"Yes," he agreed. He licked his lips and tried to choose his words with
care. "How much do you remember of your time while you
were...emotionally unbalanced?"
"Not much," Cordy answered breezily.
"All kind of a fog," Angel added.
"Like sleepwalking."
"Only without the 'walking' part, even."
Wesley smiled. "Excellent. Well, I don't know about you, but I'm going
to get some eggs started up down in the kitchen. I'm famished." The
ex-Watcher heaved himself out of the chair and limped carefully down the
stairs. Angel and Cordelia watched him go.
"So," Cordelia said, after they were sure he was gone.
"So."
"You remember everything perfectly too, don't you?"
"Very clearly."
"Crystal." There was another pause. Cordelia swallowed. "Let's never
discuss this ever again, shall we?"
"Sounds good to me," Angel agreed.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Smiling to himself, Wesley crept back down the stairs, trying not to
bang his cast against anything.
I wonder if it's possible to fry eggs with one arm? he thought.
As he struggled with the fridge door, the voice whispered in his
thoughts one last time.
One success doesn't cancel out all the years of failures, my boy, it
told him.
Wesley pulled the door open. "Oh put a sock in it, father."
End
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