| Title: Captive of the Soul Author: Yatzee Chapter 7 Father Augustine felt pity for the girl's humiliation, but remained focused on his task. "Your turn is next," he said, turning to Wesley. To his surprise, Wesley no longer stood by his side, but was hurrying to the door. "Sir! You are forgetting yourself." "I'm not, actually," Wesley said, almost apologetically. "It's just that we -- I mean, I should --" "She shouldn't be alone," Angelus said. "She's just so vulnerable right now." "Silence, demon," Father Augustine said. "Bite me," Angelus said. "Wait, no, it goes the other way around." Father Augustine ignored the demon's rantings. "We must hurry." "I know," Wesley said. "But we need her here." He was out the door before Father Augustine could ask precisely why they needed her there, now that her work was done. Little matter, he told himself. They could spare a few minutes for the young man to comfort Cordelia. And he had heard a hundred demons in a dozen countries curse his name; he knew how to endure. Angelus was staring at him, his eyes small and dark. "That vow of celibacy's a bitch, isn't it? Believe me, I know way the hell too much about it. About the way you get hungrier and hungrier for one good --" Father Augustine looked back at the door and began wishing for Wesley to walk back through it. *** "Cordelia?" The door squeaked open once more, but Cordelia didn't turn to Wesley. Instead she looked away, toward the far end of the alley, where rain-dark cars swished through the mist. "I'm fine," she said quietly. "I got through my part, didn't I?' "You did." "So, end of story. Don't you need to go do your thing now?" "We have a few moments. I wanted -- I wanted to make certain you were all right." "He's still chained up in his chair, right? No broken bones here." "That's not the damage I was most worried about." Cordelia looked over at Wesley then, and instead of the judgment or shock she'd expected, she saw only genuine concern. "There's no use in pretending that I didn't hear, Cordelia. I realize that we don't really talk all that much, but, I thought -- maybe -- you would want to talk about this." Think again, she wanted to say. But instead, the words she heard coming out of her mouth were, "It's not like I was in love with him or anything." They were both quiet for a moment, until Wesley gently said, "I know that. But I had thought, perhaps, that -- you cared." "Not that way. I mean, not really that way, not most of the time. I mean -- oh, I don't know what I mean." Cordelia hugged herself and glanced back at Wesley. "It's just that Angel came along when I was so down-and-out. I ran into him at a party -- did you know that's how we met up again? But I acted all haughty and rude to him. Like I was still some big deal. But I didn't have anything. I hadn't eaten in two days. I was -- this rich guy said he was interested in me, and I went to his house to -- I thought, it's just my body, it doesn't matter, that's not what matters about me -- but I knew what I was going to be. And then it turned out he was a vampire, and I was just a meal for him, but then Angel came in --" "He saved your life," Wesley said. After a moment, Cordelia shook her head. "Yeah, but that's not the important part. He saved -- something else, something I was getting ready to give away. You'd probably use some old-timey word like 'virtue' or 'honor' or something, but that's not exactly what I mean -- all I know is, Angel saved me from losing that. He gave me a job, and he listened to me, and when Doyle died he was there for me --" She lifted a hand to her face, as if she could somehow hold back the words, hold back the feelings they represented. "We got close. And when you get close to somebody, I mean, you can't help but wonder. Wonder if you might get -- even closer. Especially if he's totally hot." "Only natural," Wesley said gently. "I tried to hide it, but he saw, and all he thought --" "Stop," Wesley interrupted, as he put his hand on her shoulder. "You don't know what Angel thinks of all this. Only what Angelus told you. Angelus wants only to hurt you; he can't be trusted, Cordelia. You mustn't take what he says as the truth." "I know that," she said, then straightened up. "I do know that. I just kinda forgot there, for a second." "Angelus is persuasive. It's one of his weapons." Wesley looked as though he wanted to say more, but he didn't -- just kept leaning against the wall with Cordelia, getting damp in the mist. "Your turn's coming up," Cordelia said. "And you're freaked." "Yes." "Don't blame ya." "Cordelia, I -- I know it's asking a lot, but -- would you come back in with me?" Cordelia stared at him, and he shook his head. "I tell myself that I'm ready to hear what he has to say, but I wonder." "And -- you want me there?" "Yes," he said, his voice carrying the same note of surprise as her own. "I do. If you can take it." She squared her shoulders. "Bring it on." Wesley did not look at Angelus as he and Cordelia walked back in. He thought it would be easier to focus his attention on Father Augustine, at least until he saw that Father Augustine was scowling a bit. Wesley never dealt well with rejection from authority figures, and from a priest, no less, the scowl was rather disquieting. He would have liked to say something like, the last thing I need is a lecture. Or, Cordelia needed help, and that's important whether you understand it or not -- whether I understand it or not. Instead, he said, "Where does my part begin?" "At the top of this page," Father Augustine said as he held the book out to Wesley. "Hurry. The sections of the rite must be completed in sequence, quickly, or we lose our binding power --" "Give it up already," Angelus said from his chair, his voice sending shivers of dread up Wesley's back. "Cordelia might lack in the brain department, but she's got a little backbone, I'll give her that -- or keep it for myself. But Wesley? Spineless as a jellyfish." Wesley snatched the book away from Father Augustine and turned to face Angelus. He'd faced him down once, after all -- and sent him sprawling into an elevator shaft. Now, with the demon tied helpless in a chair, he had nothing to fear but a few snide words -- "In the name of God the Father, God the Son, and God the Holy Ghost, I cast thee out --" "You cast me out of my own home? Don't think so, Wes. I bet you can't even step on a spider. You scoop it up on a bit of newspaper, let it wander out on the windowsill, don't you?" "How did you -- oh. Oh. I cast thee out, that the spirit within thee may be free again to walk in the light of God." "You couldn't even raise a hand to Faith, could you?" Faith. The name cut through him like ice, like metal, like shards of broken glass. That nerve in his arm, the one that still felt numb in the mornings, seemed to vibrate within him, one long note of pain. "The spirit will know the truth of God, and the spirit will know the word of God." Wesley knew his voice was not so loud as it had been a few moments before, hated himself for it, tried to stand up a little straighter. "The demon is the scourge of God, and we shall not suffer it to remain --" "You came down there to kill her. Was it revenge, or were you doing it for me? I wasn't ever sure about that. But I heard you, heard that knife you dropped as it hit the concrete. If you were just bounding to the rescue -- because, you know, you could really help a whole lot against Faith -- then I can see it. But it wasn't, was it?" He knew I was there. I had to go back inside, catch my breath, try to believe what I'd seen. He came for me so much later -- so much later, and he knew I was standing there, all the while, knew what I had seen -- "And we shall not suffer it to remain. Let free the soul held captive within the body, let free the body held captive by the demon." "You know why I picked Faith, don't you? Why I helped her instead of you? Come to think of it, you probably haven't been able to figure that one out. But I bet you're just a little bit curious, aren't ya, Wes?" Wesley's fingers couldn't seem to catch the thin edges of paper to turn the page -- God, how embarrassing, to be sweating and trembling because of nothing more than words. How humiliating, to be made to remember all this, and to want to remember. To want to know. "Faith had her knocks, you know? The bad home life, the drunk mom, the guys who used her -- just thinking about it chokes me right up. But you gotta give her credit; no matter how hard you hit her, she just bounces back again. Can't tear that one down. And you, Wes, you're a house of cards. Just a matter of time before you crumble under for good. So which horse was I gonna bet on, Wesley? Which one of you was I gonna play? Who was worth getting on the leash? You tell me." Wesley could hear Cordelia shifting on her feet behind him, no doubt in embarrassment or impatience or some mixture thereof. He didn't want to think about the expression of contempt that was no doubt on the priest's face. And he hated the triumphant glare with which Angelus was studying his face. No way out but through, he told himself, and mustered up the will to continue. "The future of the spirit and the future of the demon shall be separate. We divide thee from the body, oh demon --" "You want to know the saddest thing of all, Wes, my boy? I cut you loose, but I got you anyway. I rubbed your face in it but good, and what did you do? You just came back crawling and wagging your tail like a bad dog. I rewarded Faith for torturing you, and you took it." "We divide thee from the body, oh demon," Wesley repeated, his voice by now a hoarse whisper. "Forever more shall the spirit and demon be twain." And with that he turned away from Angelus, shoulder slumped as though he had been defeated. For one moment he dared to lift his eyes to Cordelia's; she was looking at him with a gentleness that almost leavened his humiliation. Wesley surrendered the book to Father Augustine. "Now, demon," Father Augustine said, his rich voice echoing from the concrete walls, "your time is short." "Bragging," Angelus said. "Such a turnoff." But he seemed far less interested in Father Augustine than he was in Wesley and Cordelia. "Seems like I remember Buffy talking about you two having the hots for each other, once upon a time," Angelus said. "Seems like I remember some slow-dancing going on at the glamorous Sunnydale High prom, for which I cannot BELIEVE I rented a tux. The thought of you two having sex -- that puts me right off my lunch. But I gotta ask: Did that happen? Did Wesley have the balls to ball you, Cordy?" Father Augustine showed no sign of surprise or hesitation, but plowed on with damnable, enviable calm. "Here and now, demon, you shall be cast from the body. We begin the warding chant, which will repel thee from the body and cast thee into thy proper hell --" The priest began a chant in a language so arcane even Wesley did not know it; Angelus showed no sign of even being troubled. He kept glaring at Wesley and Cordelia as his visage slowly vamped. "I've thought of all the ways I'd like to kill you two, you know," Angelus said. "Want a preview of coming attractions? Because it's almost as much fun to tell as to execute. Almost. See, first there's this thing with a meathook -- you spear somebody just right, and they can hang there for days before they die. Sounds about right for you, Cordy --" And his face shifted again. The vampire fangs retracted, the forehead smoothed, and the eyes went from yellow to brown. Angelus trembled in his chair -- no, Wesley thought, shook, as though he were having a seizure, or as if he alone could feel the tremors of some powerful earthquake. "It's happening!" Cordelia whispered, clutching at Wesley's arm. "The exorcism's working!" But Father Augustine shook his head. "What the --" Wesley breathed. "No," Angelus snarled through clenched teach, then shouted, "NO!" He threw his head back, hard, against the back of the chair, again, three times, then fell limp. Wesley involuntarily took a step forward. Angel looked up, his eyes wet, his expression once again his own -- full of doubt, remorse, shame. "Angel?" Cordelia said. "I -- I couldn't take it --" Angel said. "I couldn't hear those words coming out of my mouth --" "It's all right," Wesley said. "We know it wasn't you." "But it was me," Angel said, shaking his head, dropping his face so he couldn't meet their eyes. "It was. That's what you don't understand." "I don't get this," Cordelia said. "You didn't do that chimey thing on the crystal." "We knew there was a chance that Angel would be able to break the hypnotic trance at will," Wesley said. "One of the reasons we tried this instead of drugs." Father Augustine took Angel's shoulder in his hand. "I realize that it is difficult for you to endure the demon's dominance," he said. "But if we are to continue, we must act quickly. Every moment we interrupt the ritual, we lose the hold we have gained over the demon." "Just give me a moment," Angel said dully. "It's hard. It -- it hurts." Wesley hesitated, remembering times in his life when he had spoken those words and no one had listened. He said, "Angel -- are you certain you want to go through with this?" "What?" Cordelia said. "Wesley, that's nuts! We're, like, this close. Come on, Angel!" "We're essentially torturing Angel, and for a rather uncertain result," Wesley said roughly. After a pause, Angel said. "I've already hurt you both so much. Don't pretend it's not true." Cordelia hung her head for a moment before saying in a low voice. "It's worth it if we finish this." Angel considered that for a moment, then said, "Cordy, you told me before that you thought this was a bad idea," Angel said. "Well, you were right and I was wrong." "Although I would normally want to get those words engraved on something shiny, this is so not breakthrough time," Cordelia said. "If I can deal, so can you." "This is not an argument we're going to have," Wesley said, with something that sounded surprisingly like authority. "Before, we talked about how this was something Angel had the right to choose. He has the right not to choose it, too. This is over. Please, let's end this." They were all silent for a moment longer until Father Augustine said, "You have controlled this demon for many years. I pray that you will be able to retain that control." And with that, he closed the little prayer book. "I don't believe it," Cordelia said, her voice harsh in the echoing room. "I can't believe I went through -- all that stuff, and for nothing." "Cordelia, there's no point in arguing any longer," Wesley said tiredly. "I'm not arguing. I'm just telling it like I see it. Angel doesn't want his demon gone? Fine. Honestly, sometimes I think you like having that demon inside you," she said, staring at Angel. "It gives you someone to blame." Wesley grabbed her arm sharply. "Cordelia, this is not the time to say something you'll --" "Something I'll regret? Seems like the theme of the evening to me," Cordelia said. But she stepped forward with him to unshackle Angel, who still would not meet their eyes. Even as he stood up, rubbing his cut and roughened wrists, he held himself a little apart from them, as though unable to bear their gaze or touch. A few moments of leaden silence passed before anyone spoke. "You are well?" Father Augustine finally said. "As I'll ever be," Angel said. "We should go home now," Wesley said gently, hoping to soothe both Cordelia's wrath and Angel's apparent misery. "You probably need some rest, Angel. And -- didn't you have a big day tomorrow, Cordelia?" "I feel all right," Angel said, flexing his hands slightly as if testing his own words. "Well, then, you go on out and paint the town red," Cordelia huffed. She grabbed up the duffle bag she'd brought along and began piling their various equipment inside. "I still have an audition to prepare for." "Perhaps it would do us all good to take a bit of a break," Wesley ventured. "Get some space. We can talk about all this after we'd had a bit of a rest." "No space for you," Cordelia said. "I need you to help run lines." "Now, why do you want Wesley to help you with that?" Wesley and Cordelia both stared over at Angel as he spoke. Saw the smile that began spreading across his face. Transforming it. "After all, if you want to learn about acting -- learn from a pro," Angelus said. Title: Captive of the Soul Author: Yatzee Chapter 8 Angelus took one step toward Cordelia. "Come to think of it, didn't we have a date for later on?" Cordelia screamed. Wesley gasped. Father Augustine, a man who had learned to trust his instincts, leapt quickly into the protective circle. Wesley grabbed Cordelia's right arm -- at the exact same moment Angelus grabbed her left. The duffle bag she'd been holding fell to the floor at Angelus' feet, and Father Augustine felt his spirits collapse with it. "Cordelia, come on!" Wesley cried, attempting to pull her toward the protective circle. "Ooooh, tug of war. Fun," Angelus said, increasing his grip on the young woman's wrist until Father Augustine feared her bones would crack. "Is this gonna be like a wishbone thing? See who gets the bigger half?" Cordelia lurched back hard; at that moment, Angelus let go entirely. The sudden lack of resistance sent her sprawling backwards into Wesley, and they both fell to the floor. Angelus delivered a savage kick to Wesley's gut and laughed when he cried out -- but he made no move to stop either of them as they scuttled into the circle. Father Augustine tugged them deeper within the slender boundary between their salvation and their doom. Once all three of them lay there, panting and weak, Angelus stepped right up to the edge and folded his arms across his chest. "Turn back, demon," Father Augustine said. "This place is holy and will not admit you." "Yeah, yeah, I know the drill," Angelus said lazily. "No big deal. If I were in a big hurry to kill these two, I would've done it a minute ago." "Angel?" Wesley said hoarsely; the breath had apparently been knocked out of him. "Angel, are you in there? Can you stop this?" "If he could, don't you think he would?" Angelus said. "Hypnosis is a tricky thing, Wesley my boy. Can't predict what'll happen. Oh, that reminds me." Angelus stepped over to the duffle bag with their equipment, lying abandoned on the floor. They all watched helplessly as Angelus lifted out the hypnotic crystal. "Seeing as how this thing set me free, I ought to consider it a keepsake. But I don't think so." And with that, he threw the crystal as hard as he could against the wall. Cordelia jumped as it smashed against the concrete and exploded into a thousand glittering pieces. "Oh, no," she breathed. "Oh, yes," Angelus said. "I'm back in business, and the world has you three to thank. Believe me, I am grateful down to the bottom of my heart. For instance, if I ever do decide to kill you, I promise, it'll be quick. No more than an hour or two, tops." "We're gonna be waiting for you," Cordelia said desperately. "You know what I told Angel. I said I'd stake him if he turned evil, and -- and I will. I mean it." "Like you could," Angelus said, sauntering up to the edge of the circle again and leering at Cordelia in a way that made the priest feel slightly sick. "More to the point, you're not gonna get much chance. I choose my victims carefully. I put a lot of time and thought into just the best way to make their lives a hell, until I end them. Frankly, you people are going to take some serious planning. I could think of a good way to spend the next few days with you, Cordy; that's for damn sure. But there's girls twice as sexy out there who don't own any crossbows at all. "Someday, sure, I'll look you up," he continued as he turned to walk away. "It might be two days. It might be twenty years. Telling you when -- well, that would remove all the suspense, wouldn't it? And I want you to surprised." Angelus looked back over his shoulder as he paused at the door. "Here's one hint, though: It won't be tonight. Right now I have more important things to do. I'm a young man, just starting out; I need to -- win friends. Influence people. Make my way in the world." And with that he was gone, instantly vanishing into the night. They were all quiet for a moment after he'd left. Then Cordelia breathed, "Oh, FUCK." Father Augustine hesitated before he spoke; he was in danger of agreeing with her. "This was -- unexpected." "Thanks for that profound insight," Cordelia snapped. "Now what? Are we gonna live in this circle forever?" "Just until we can get to that bag," Wesley said, in a calm, measured voice. Now that Father Augustine looked at him, he could see how intent the young man was, how steady, how carefully he was still listening for any sign of Angelus. "We have stakes in there, some holy water. The tranquilizer gun. Protection." "Protection for how long? We basically tied up our best friend and dropped him in the trunk of a mad killer. Said mad killer is going to hunt us down sooner or later, and later's not that much better than sooner," Cordelia said. "Protection for long enough to get us to a phone," Wesley said. "So we can call Buffy," Cordelia said. "Oh, God, is she gonna be pissed." "True," Wesley said. "But she is not only our best hope of stopping Angelus, but she is also probably his first target. We must warn her. If Angelus simply shows up in Sunnydale --" "She'll think it's Angel," Cordelia finished. "And won't even know to fight him until it's too late. Oh, no." Father Augustine frowned. He'd thought he'd met all the people involved in the ritual -- and, he'd assumed, Angel's circle of acquaintance. "Who is this Buffy?" "Angel's ex-girlfriend. Also the Slayer. You know what the Slayer is?" Cordelia asked. "The protector of humanity," Father Augustine replied. Certain vague things Angel had told him about his curse, words about perfect happiness, about release, began to take on shape and meaning. "She was -- they were --" "All snuggly, not so long ago," Cordelia said. "Which was actually how Angelus got out the last time. So I don't guess Miss True Love gets to bitch at us that much, now that I think about it." Wesley was on his feet now, tensed and ready. "All right then. On the count of three." Cordelia started, "One -- two --" Wesley bolted, grabbed the bag and jumped back into the circle with an astonishing speed and agility. Cordelia blurted out, "That wasn't three." "Well, if he had been listening -- as well he was off his guard," Wesley explained, handing stakes to Cordelia and Father Augustine. "Father, you'd be as well off going back to the parish. If you have any friends in the community you can contact, people who could help --" "I will summon what assistance I can," Father Augustine said. "And we'll break it to Buffy," Cordelia muttered. He watched the two young people -- wretched in their misery, beautiful in their courage -- scramble out into the night. Their friend had come to him for help; they had trusted his judgment, believed that he would use the discretion of his mind, instead of following the tenderness of his heart. Father Augustine closed his eyes for one moment. Later. There would be time for the guilt and the grief later. Now he had to prepare for the return of the demon. |