| Title: Captive of the Soul Author: Yatzee Chapter 3 "You're going to exorcise yourself?" Cordelia said. "What about this am I not getting?" She was sitting on the sofa in leggings and a tank top, her hair yanked up into a slightly off-center ponytail, blue facial mask making her look like a psychedelic kabuki performer. Wesley, who had just stepped out of the bathroom in his blue-striped pijamas and robe, was staring at Angel with the same shocked expression she wore. "Angel -- your demon -- it's a part of you." "I don't need reminding," Angel said, pulling off his shoes as he sat down on his sleeping bag. In the explosion, his apartment had been destroyed, along with all their means of support. Angel had a little money in the bank -- enough to keep them all eating, at least for a while -- but he and Wesley were camping out at Cordelia's for the time being. To Angel's surprise, the arrangement was working fairly smoothly. So far. "Don't you?" Wesley said. He sat down beside Cordelia, who was still shaking her head in confusion. "Angel, you are a vampire. A dead body animated by the demon that dwells within." "Take that out, and what have you got?" Cordelia asked. "A dead body. Not good." "I've seen, in the past, that a vampire's body can keep living without the demon," Angel said. "If a vampire can't feed for long enough, the demon is cast out, but the body goes on, without capacity for thought. Eventually becomes a living skeleton. Not pretty." "And this is what you're shooting for?" Cordelia said. "I'm guessing that the soul is going to survive just fine without the demon. Maybe -- maybe the two aren't tied together. If so, that should keep me from anything so drastic." Angel smiled in what he hoped was a reassuring manner. It didn't work. "Guessing? That's supposed to be good enough?" Cordelia shook her head. "You're not going to risk yourself over something like this. And I will prove it to you, as soon as I wash this stuff off my face." "How can you think of your facial at a time like this?" Wesley said. "Uh, excuse me. My Old Navy commercial audition is coming up in two days, and as I am temporarily the breadwinner of this family, I think we all have an interest in my complexion being at its best. Besides, this mask is flaking like dried plaster. How can Angel concentrate on anything important with my face crumbling in front of him?" She went off to wash, leaving Wesley to continue the argument. "Cordelia has a very valid point, for once," Wes said. "I heard that!" Cordelia called from the bathroom, over the sound of splashing water. Wesley ignored her and continued, "Your theory may well be correct, Angel. But is it worth risking your existence to find out? I can tell you that it's not worth it to me." "Or me," Cordy said, patting her face dry with a washcloth as she returned to the couch. "We need you, Angel." "Not like this," Angel said. "I'm enough of a risk to you as it is." "Are we about to get some heroic speech, about how you won't let us endanger ourselves by staying at your side?" Wesley said. "I've been waiting for this --" "Sorry to disappoint you," Angel said. "No, no speeches. You're both adults. You make your own choices." "Oh," Wesley said, looking rather crestfallen. "Then what are you driving at?" "I mean that I'm not going to endanger you any more than I have to," Angel said. "And as long as I can still become what I was before, I'm a danger to you both." "Not to mention everybody else this side of the Rockies," Cordelia said. "And don't look at me like that, Wesley. We both know it's true." "So, you're behind me?" Angel said. "If 'behind you' means thinking you're doing something totally boneheaded but not mentioning more than thirty times a day, yeah." Cordelia said with a sigh. "Wes?" Wesley nodded. "If you're allowing us to take our risks, then we have to allow you to take yours. But I won't pretend to like it." "Didn't ask you to," Angel said. He pulled off his shoes and got down on the floor to arrange the sleeping bag; he doubted he could sleep this early in the evening, but he had tried, during these past two weeks, to match the humans' circadian rhythms as closely as possible. "We've had a long day," he said, hoping to forestall any more conversation. Neither of them were taking the hint, though. Cordelia set about applying some strange unguent to her hair without removing her attention from him for a moment. "So how are we going to do this? I mean, is the priest just going to drop by, cast out Angelus, have some tea?" "Probably not a great idea to do it here," Angel said. "The ceremony might end up casting out Dennis instead." The wall thumped once. Cordelia shook her head vehemently. "No way. So, where then? The church?" "Difficult to draw the demon out there. Gunn's group -- the homeless kids I told you about -- just moved out of a basement place about 20 minutes away; I think that'll do nicely," Angel said from his place on the floor. "Drawing out the demon -- yes, you'd have to, wouldn't you?" Wesley said, wrinkling his brow as he frowned. "For an exorcism, you must directly confront the demon. That means -- you'll have to let Angelus out." "What?" Cordelia said, her face going a little pale. "Wait a minute. To get rid of him, you have to let him out?" "I don't like that part of it either," Angel admitted. "But you guys can chain me up --" "Oh, no, not again," Cordelia sighed. Angel ignored her. "I'll have to take the drug that Rebecca dosed me with and hope it works the same way. We'll see, I guess." "There might be another way," Wesley said slowly. "Have you considered hypnosis?" "Hypnosis?" Cordelia said, wrinkling her nose. "I thought that was fake. Just stuff for Vegas lounge acts and weight-loss ripoffs." "Nobody understands precisely why hypnotism works," Wesley said. "But it does. It's capable of unlocking an entirely different level of the conscious mind." "In Angel's case, an entirely demonic level." "That's the idea," Wesley said. Angel was quiet for a moment, considering. "Do you think it would work?" "Worth a try," Wesley said. "I can conduct a test." "You?" Cordy said. "Why, yes," Wesley said. "All Watchers are trained in the art of hypnotism. I was rather good at it, actually." "It would be better than the drug," Angel said. "If something happened -- if things got out of control -- you could end the hypnotic trance right away." "Exactly," Wesley said, noticeably happy to be of assistance. "There's also the chance -- a slight one, mind you, but a chance -- that if matters were to, well, not proceed as planned, that you might be able to throw off the hypnotic trance." "You mean, if Angelus got a hand free and started choking one of us -- just one of the unpleasant scenarios that springs to mind -- Angel might be able to, like, break through and be himself again," Cordelia said. "It's a distant possibility, but a possibility nonetheless," Wesley said. "Then that's our plan," Angel said. "Get whatever you need tomorrow. Father Augustine will meet us tomorrow night." "That fast," Cordelia said. The seriousness of it seemed to have hit her all at once. "Angel, that's going to change everything." "It's meant to keep things from changing." "For me and Wesley, maybe," Cordelia said. "But it changes a lot of things for you. Like, that whole subcurse-to-the-curse thing. You have perfect happiness now, and nothing happens, right?" "I'd still lose my soul," Angel pointed out. "So, if you had sex with Buffy again, you'd just go to mindless-zombie territory," Cordelia said. "And you're not going there. Right?" "Right," Angel said. He said it casually enough, but something of his mood must have come through to Cordelia. She slipped off the sofa and knelt beside him. "Hey," she whispered, gently touching his shoulder. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't throw Buffy's name around without thinking first." "I shouldn't let it affect me," Angel said. "Like that's ever gonna happen," Cordelia said. After a moment's pause, she dropped her hand from his shoulder and her eyes from his own. "I hope this works for you, Angel. It doesn't make any difference to me, but if it's going to make you feel safer, then that's a good thing." "I'm still worried about all this," Wesley said. "I mean, your demon is under control. And perhaps he is a larger part of your psyche than we realize. Do you need that darkness? To remind you of what you could be? To give you the edge it takes to do the things you must do --" "Star Trek," Cordelia said. Off Wesley's startled look, she said, "This is totally out of that Star Trek episode. The one where Captain Kirk splits into good and evil twins?" "You never struck me as a science-fiction fan," Wesley said, slightly abashed. "I'm not, but please. I dated Xander Harris for almost a year. That gives me honorary membership in the geek hall of fame." "I'll always have two centuries' worth of memories to do remind me," Angel said. "Maybe that's enough." They finished preparing for bed in silence; it was Wesley's turn to take the couch, so he set about making his bed there, tucking a sheet around the cushions with an almost military neatness. Angel tucked his pillow up beneath him as he slipped into the sleeping bag. He and Wesley were both ready for bed, but Cordelia went through yet more steps of her elaborate bedtime ritual, utterly unworried by their presence. It was all so casual, so intimate, that Angel found himself strangely moved. How long had it been since he had been a part of anyone's life like this? Just another person in their lives, accepted as easily and totally as any human being could hope to be. For all the depth of his love for Buffy, Angel knew that the two of them had never reached that level -- never could have, given her age and the greater demands of their relationship. And, in its own way, this was as healing, as comforting, as Buffy's love had ever been -- "This is going to be hard," Angel said suddenly. Wesley, who had just draped his robe across a chair, turned to face him; Cordelia stuck her head out of the bathroom door, toothbrush still in her foamy-lipped mouth. "When Angelus is free, the things I'll say to you -- it'll be hard to hear." "We can take it," Wesley said. "You don't have to be afraid for us." Cordelia nodded. But I am, Angel thought. Title: Captive of the Soul Author: Yatzee Chapter 4 "You know, I'd have gotten into exorcisms sooner, if I realized they involved this much shopping," Cordelia said. "Then again, I would've looked around for a catalog or something, if I knew we were going to have to shop here." "Here" was a store called "Rapt in Chains." Cordelia and Wesley were standing between the leather-corsetry section and the display of specialty whips. Wesley was trying very hard to remember if he had ever been this embarrassed in his life and deciding, probably not. But if you needed to keep someone chained up, this was the place to be - "I mean, people have the right to get their freak on," Cordelia muttered. "But you know, I just have to wonder. If you don't enjoy sex unless you're in a vinyl body bag, maybe you just really don't enjoy sex." "This seems like a lot of equipment for people to get in order to do something they don't enjoy," Wesley said, casting a worried glance at what resembled, but probably was not, a hand gliding harness on the wall. "Well, you'd know, right?" "I beg your pardon?" "Come on, Wesley," Cordelia said. "You knew just where this place was --" "I used to live down the street," Wesley hissed. "Back when we could all afford separate accomodations, I took a hotel room two blocks away." "Really?" Cordelia's eyebrow was raised, but when Wesley nodded, she put her hand to her mouth. "Really?" she repeated, more softly. "Wesley, this is a bad neighborhood. Way bad. I used to live in the barrio, so I know whereof I speak." "Well, we could afford separate accommodations," Wesley said. "Not necessarily good ones. Anyway, this was usually the only place open when I got home; they keep very strange hours. Apparently much of the merchandise falls into the realm of the impulse buy." "Long time no see." At the sound of the voice, both Cordelia and Wesley jumped; the clerk, a man far too interested in piercing, was smiling at Wesley. "I knew all that talk about change for the vending machine was just cover. So, which of you needs a fitting?" The man looked Cordelia up and down with a proprietory gaze Wesley found discomfiting and infuriating all at once. "Or is it matching outfits for you two?" "No, no, no," Cordelia said. "It's not for us. It's for our boss." "Kinky," the man said. "Sounds like you guys got one hell of a benefits package." "It's not what it sounds like," Wesley said, then realized that the real situation would probably sound a whole lot worse. "I mean -- well, we must be discreet." He ignored Cordelia's outraged glare. "Don't worry," the man said. "Your secret's safe with us. So, what size is this boss of yours?" "He's a big guy," Cordelia said with a sigh. "Not quite as tall as Wesley here, but way more built." "Yummy. And what are you looking for? Sub or dom?" "Huh?" Cordelia didn't get it. Wesley thought he did, but he really didn't want to. He could feel his cheeks burning as he answered, "He's the one getting tied up. Does that answer your question?" "Gotcha. Hang on a sec," the man said, before vanishing into the back. "I swear to God, Wesley, this is the most humiliating thing ever," Cordelia said. "Well, no, the gyno exam with the demon babies is the all-time winner. But should that event ever be unable to fulfill its duties as Most Humiliating, this one will step in." "It's not that bad," Wesley insisted. "We'll just keep our heads down, and -- oh, my Lord." "What?" Wesley motioned at the display case. Cordelia looked down, and her eyes widened. "Okay, those were not modeled from life. I mean, sure, big is beautiful, but this is overkill." "How does this look?" Wesley turned to see their helpful clerk again; he was holding up a leather vest with straps that were clearly used to bind the wearer's arms behind his back. "Adjustable fit, but should be ideal for the size you described." "Looks great," Cordelia said. "Wrap it up." "Wait a moment," Wesley said. "Now, this is entirely secure, correct?" "Sure. Holds the wearer in good and tight, but there's this release latch right here --" "Release latch?" Cordelia interrupted. "What's with the release latch? Isn't bondage all about being bound?" "Well, yes." The clerk was looking at Cordelia strangely. "But there's always a release. I mean, we don't want this stuff being misused." "Wesley, this is no good," she complained. "If he can get out, it's not gonna work." "We'll just take some handcuffs," Wesley said. "Several pairs. Those don't have releases, do they?" "No, no. Just gonna wrap those up for you." The clerk inched away. "Great," Cordelia said. "We have now been written off as perverts by a guy who sells nipple clamps." "Cordelia!" "Sorry. This place is making me vulgar. Can't we just get out of here? What's next on the shopping list?" Wesley tugged out the paper, glad to have something else to think about besides their surroundings. "Well, Angel was hoping we could get a tranquilizer gun, though I'm not at all sure where to buy one." "Veterinary-supply store," Cordelia said. "Any vet who works with big animals, like horses or cows, is going to need one." Off Wesley's startled look, she shrugged. "What can I say? You help take care of a werewolf, you learn lessons you use throughout life. But wait a second -- why are we buying tranquilizers anyway?" "To drug our murderous, demonic employer should he break free of our restraints," Wesley said. "I should think that would be rather obvious." "Well, tranquilizers and Angel -- not the best combo." "The demon will already be released," Wesley pointed out. "A tranquilizer can't really make it any worse." "True," Cordelia said. "Where are those handcuffs? C'mon, already." "Cordelia, do calm down. I'm as dismayed to be in here as you are, but there's really no rush. It's not as if we need to hurry off to buy you new shoes for the occasion." "Speak for yourself," Cordy replied. "I'm thinking some cool little thong sandals. Wait, no. Hard to run in those. Scratch that." When Wesley didn't respond to what he hoped was a joke, Cordelia sighed. "Okay. I'm just kinda ready to get this over with. Aren't you?" "Agreed," Wesley said. It was as close as they had come to discussing the subject of Angel's exorcism with any seriousness. When Wesley had arrived in L.A., he had felt reasonably close to Cordelia -- the awkwardness of their previous attraction aside, they had shared experiences, shared memories. Angel was a mysterious figure, more to be feared than trusted. He had expected to work with Angel only as a colleague, and perhaps to discover some sort of friendship with Cordelia. Instead, Angel had become a friend; some secrets and emotions Wesley had long tried to suppress had spilled out these past months, and Angel, instead of turning away, had accepted him as few others ever had. Wesley had found it easy to respond in turn. Cordelia, meanwhile, remained at a distance. They could laugh and joke together, or, more often, nag each other for hours on end. At times, their conversations went beyond the trivial -- but only for a few minutes, and usually only when they discussed Angel. After the cloudy glow of infatuation had worn off, Wesley might have written Cordelia off as silly or shallow, were it not for her devotion to Angel. More than once, Wesley had wondered whether their relationship were not moving beyond the purely platonic -- Cordelia and Angel were so openly protective of one another that it was hard to believe they shared no romantic feeling. But so far, anyway, it seemed that they were no more than friends. Meanwhile, she and Wesley remained friends mostly because they both cared about Angel. Basis enough, he supposed. "You should have told us you had to live in this neighborhood," Cordelia said. Wesley glanced at her, surprised by the shift in topic. "We could've worked something else out. You could have stayed with Angel, or with me. We wouldn't have left you here, if we'd known." She grimaced as she looked away from him. "And we would have known if we'd asked." Angel had asked and had offered help before, which Wesley had turned down in a moment of much-repented pride. After a few moments' consideration, Wesley decided not to mention that point. "I appreciate the thought, Cordelia." "Okay. Six pairs of handcuffs. That going to do it for you?" The clerk had a very fixed smile on his face as he held out a paper bag. Cordelia pulled out her Visa with a melodramatic flourish. "I think this is going to max out my last available credit on my last credit card," she sighed. "Angel without a demon, me without the ability to charge -- we have reached the end of an era." |