Title: Pure Emotion Pure Emotion (Prologue) - What the world needs now...
* * *
Angel stalked down the pale, blue-tinted passages. He appeared hunched, as if defending himself from a potential blow, with his black jacket pulled tight around his shoulders.
"I'm still not sure this is a good idea..." he muttered nervously.
"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's eyes flicked nervously from side to side as they rounded the corner. He tensed instinctively , as a thin figure moved out of the shadows of the passage before him.
The gangly, almost skeletal figure smiled, a small badge on his white shirt identifying 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 side-long glance at Angel. "Even though *someone* tried to get lost along the way."
Angel coughed nervously. "I'm not good with directions," he said feebly.
The man inclined his head, thin lips curving upwards. "We are all travellers on the journey of life. We follow many paths to reach our destinies, and sometimes we require guidance."
"Uh-huh," she broke in. "But at the moment, I 'require' a facial. So, if you can point us in the right direction?"
'Richard' raised a thin finger, pointing down one of the passages. "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 club. The cheapest decent trendy spa in LA, and there is no way I was showing up unescorted. To get ahead in the acting business, a girl needs to be seen to have two things."
"Luck and talent?"
She shook her head. "Poor, naive, dead man. 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 worse." Cordelia rolled her eyes and dragged him into the facial room.
* * *
Angel lay flat on his chest, his shirt off, wincing as the masseuse pounded his muscles, hammering and chopping with sadistic glee. On the table next to him, Cordelia winced as her own enthusiastic helper 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?"
"Sorry," the masseuse said calmly. "Your muscles are very cold."
"I get that a lot," the vampire groaned.
Cordelia smirked at him. "Stop being such a baby."
"Well, excuse me for wishing to keep my spine." Angel replied irritably. "And by the way, 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, anyway, so you didn't spontaneously-" Angel cleared his throat. "- miss all your important work. Because work is like, important."
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."
* * *
"This is the last part of your session for tonight," Richard announced quietly.
"Thank God," Angel said with feeling.
Ignoring him, the bone-thin man continued. "We call it 'the Peace Room'."
Cordy eyed the empty dark room he was pointing at. "Okay, cool. Is it good for hair, because the mud left mine kinda crusty, you know?"
"We will place you in this room for fifteen minutes, to harmonize your aura. Once this is done, it will allow waves of peace and contentment to suffuse your being. As for the hair, take a long hot shower."
"Uh, Cordelia. Harmonizing auras?" Angel asked dubiously.
"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 sooth 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 " Why couldn't you have taken Wesley?"
"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 one's aura.'"
"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."
"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. "Don't you mean swore *at* it?"
"Funny," she muttered, swatting his shoulder. "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. As the man turned and walked away, he and Cordelia made their way down the blue-tinted corridor. "See? Not so bad?" Cordy said cheerfully, as the vampire yawned a second time and stretched. "Hey, talking here!"
"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."
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. Staggering, unwilling to break the contact of their lips, they staggered over to Angel's car. In a single smooth movement, Angel lifted her into 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 smiled.
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 behavior 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. "Hmmm. Dented," he remarked, holding up a large double-headed axe to the morning light, studying the edge. He smiled slightly as he remembered the battle...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 stood 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.
"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 good today," Angel complimented him, as Cordelia and the vampire strolled casually past him.
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 one-thirty in the afternoon, just come wandering in...chatting....and 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 the Englishman standing alone. "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.
* * *
Wesley stared dejectedly at a pile of files. "Uh...the Sanderson case. How's that one going?" he asked.
Angel, perched on the edge of Cordelia's desk and gazing down lovingly at her, shrugged. "I'll get around to it. Some time."
Wesley stiffened. "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 chocolate brown 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 while Wesley tried not 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. "What is it, Mr Cranky-Pants?"
"Cranky-Pants? What kind of a - "
"Oh relax, Wesley," Cordelia broke in," Angel's just teasing, aren't you, my Angel?"
"You always know what I'm thinking," Angel replied, moving down to kiss her again.
Wesley groaned, and rested his head on his palms. "God, smite me down! I'll take demons, ghosts, ghouls, zombies, even Mr Crensaw my college maths teacher, but please not this!"
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.
"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 strangled...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 was successful. And in need of an aspirin. 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. Wesley couldn't see 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, managing to turn his budding scream into a cough.
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, care to explain that?" Angel's dark eyes bored 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 and throwing an arm around his shoulders.
"You do?"
"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...I feel terribly guilty about resorting to spells, but I'm just terrible at speaking to women," he lied.
"I know. I've seen you at parties, remember? Tongue-tied doesn't even come close, more like no tongue at all!" Angel chuckled.
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 thanks," 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. Wiping an errant bead of sweat from his brow, Wesley slumped down on Angel's sofa. Alone, he sat in silence. No problem, he told himself, I can deal with this.
*No problem?* a little, familiar 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 groaned. "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. " *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?"
"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."
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 his copy of Cosmopolitan, his grim gaze 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. 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 as a shield. Suddenly, it was ripped out of his hand.
"Wes! It is you!" Angel said cheerfully, tossing the magazine aside as he sat down in front of him, Cordelia hovering by his shoulder. "I didn't know you liked Italian! Why didn't you come over and talk to us?"
"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, hmm?"
"Love spell?" Cordelia asked, worming her way onto Angel's lap.
"Wes has got a crush," Angel told her gleefully.
"Oh? Anyone we know?"
"No," Wesley managed to get 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. 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, patting him on the arm. "Why was she fired?"
"She...she robbed it."
"Robbed the bank?"
"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 imagine 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 and thanked the heavens for love spells' tendency to confuse the thought processes of their victims.
"Well, thank you for a lovely evening, Angel," Cordelia said, running a hand over the vampire's cheek. He smiled and moved close, 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 cry of pain as the vision hit her in a whirlwind of pain and images.
As the other diners stared at them, Wesley stood up, babbling, "She's very attached to that dress...her mother gave to her...she's always been very fragile..."
She 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..* whispered the book in his head. "Consider...it...got..." Wesley squeezed out from between pain-clenched teeth.
"Good." Letting him go, Angel stroked Cordelia's cheek. "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 responded, trying to remember the painful vision.
Wesley leaned closer, cradling his bruised wrist. "That sounds like some sort of demon," he whispered. " Angel, we should 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...I need a different mode of attack...
He cleared his throat. "Angel, you do realize that Cordelia had this vision to warn you about the demon. 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, trying to stop the vampire from declaring a vendetta against the most powerful entities in existence. "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."
"I'm going to kill it," he snarled, standing up, his vampire face coming to the surface.
Wesley looked into the furious yellow-eyed gaze of the man standing in front of him, and slowly raised a hand. "Check, please?"
* * *
On the beach, three figures moved along at a ferocious pace. Wesley jogged beside the enraged vampire, Cordelia a few steps behind. "Uh, Angel?"
The vampire wheeled around. "What?" he growled.
"Maybe you could try and look, you know, human? The other pedestrians are giving us some very 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 scaly figure. Fully a head taller than the vampire, the sea demon hissed at him, raising sharp, hooked talons. "Because of *you*," Angel snarled at it, "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. "Angel, are you okay?" Cordelia called to her love.
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 clawed hands 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 hissed, 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, crushing 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. 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 guess four's a crowd," he told the demon's motionless form. "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 sympathsize, the other two had been necking the entire drive, and he could practically smell the guy's embarrassment and irritation.
"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. " But I don't want to spend all night admiring it, so could you please get a move on?"
The cabbie chuckled. "Sure thing, Mac."
"My name is *not* - oh sod it, who cares?"
"I worked that out a long time ago, Mac," the cabbie said philosophically. "Hey, you!" he snarled, leaning on the horn. "Yeah, you with the face like a pile of shit! Get off the fucking road!" He turned his attention back to Wesley. "Nice weather, isn't it?"
Wesley sighed. "You said that already."
"Oh, right. You know the problem with guys like you and me, Mac?"
"Please, don't tell me," Wesley pleaded weakly.
"We don't have anyone. I mean, your buddies back there, they got each other. Quite a hottie, that girl." The cabbie whistled in appreciation, and 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?"
"I wouldn't be so sure of his luck if I were you," 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 managed to get out, 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 responded, from inside 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, entering the office. "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, 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?"
"I believe you may be in danger from a spell," Wesley explained, shifting edgily from foot-to-foot.
Angel's face hardened. "Someone wants to put a spell on my Cordelia?"
"On both of you, actually."
Cordelia sunk 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. "Well, actually, I believe it has already 'zapped' you," the ex-Watcher explained.
Cordelia frowned. "How? We're not newts or anything icky."
"I'm sure we would have noticed," Angel said, resting a hand on her shoulder. "Considering how much time we've been spending together."
Wesley swallowed. "Uh, that's pretty much my point."
"Excuse me?" Cordelia asked. "Clarify 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." Angel, a still presence by her side, watched Wesley's every movement.
"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, raising 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 as she lowered her hand.
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?" he hissed.
"The kind who doesn't want to see his friends ensorcelled," Wesley retorted. "I wish it wasn't a spell, but the evidence is 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."
"I was afraid you'd say that," 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, 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 reponded, holding the crossbow perfectly still. Angel growled, eyeing the bolt leveled at this heart, as the ex-Watcher continued. “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. " I expect you to do what is best for Cordelia. 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 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 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 annoyingly in his head. Wesley polished his glasses, frowning to himself. "Okay. 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?* the voice asked.
Ignoring it, Wesley leaned against a wall, facing his two captives. "I have a few questions," he announced.
Cordelia told him in graphic detail what questions she was prepared to answer, 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'll grant you, I haven't been a tremendous success as a demon hunter, 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 strain of Wesley's forefinger on the trigger. A 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 realised 'your true feelings'."
Angel closed his eyes, thinking back as his face reverted to human. "Well, we went the office and worked though 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.
"The Cerastesae Meatus," Angel said.
"Oh, that's a nice one," Wesley said warming, "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. Finger running over the spines, he found the title he was looking for and pulled it towards him, sending the rest of the books tumbling to the floor with a sweep of his arm. He turned 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 grinned in triumph, 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.
"As lovely a proposition as it sounds," Wesley replied dryly, "I have work to do." Crossbow in hand, he strode purposefully up the stairs towards the office. 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 has been truly wonderful!" his female companion agreed.
Richard smiled gracefully. "Thank you for coming. Do come again." As the happy couple left, Richard leaned his against the door frame and heaved a sigh of joy. 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, the skinny man 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, 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. As the motorcycle slid to a halt, Henry and Richard approached, both smiling placidly. "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 noted that she seemed 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 rage, as he forced them upwards. The manacles holding his hands to the headboard groaned with strain, metallic links stretched to their breaking point. He kicked spastically with his legs, but their manacles held as well. With a gasp of exhaustion, Angel went limp, exhausted limbs sagging to the sides 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...he was furious, to put it mildly. "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 at his side, 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."
Wesley hissed with frustration. "Gentlemen, may I remind you about the large crossbow I am pointing at you?"
"Trust me, sir, we have not forgotten," Richard answered, sending Henry on his way with a gesture. "Now, if you would like to come inside..."
"I want to come inside," Cordelia said eagerly. " It reminds me of Angel in there."
Wesley stomped into the spa, dragging Cordelia along with him. Once he was in the corridor, he wheeled to face the white-suited man again, weapon raised like an angry bespectacled medieval warrior. "Now, I want to talk to someone in charge!" he yelled. His angry roar echoed down the corridors.
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 beaten up by a friend who I *respect*, while sacrificing my own self-*respect* in some fairly embarassing situations to try and help that friend. In that *respect*, don't you think I have a right to be incensed, considering this is all *your* fault!" 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.
*Nice work Wesley!* the voice told him. *You've killed a man. Just like your greatest failure. Just like Faith.*
Richard opened his mouth to say some final words...and his teeth lengthened into his fangs. 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 fully grasped the situation. "But you're a vampire. Oh dear." Richard snarled, lunging for him.
* * *
The bed screamed.
"I'm coming, honey....I'm coming...." Angel hissed, straining against his bonds in a violent, mechanical rhythm. "I'm coming....I'm coming!" he screamed, 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 him crashing into a wall, Cordelia following, pulled by the handcuffs. Wesley's head exploded with pain as his head 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 the bones of his 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 complaints of those he shoved aside. Most, after noticing his demon-twisted face, were happy to let him go. The vampire roared, dashing 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 did it now,* the voice told him. *Killed by a vampire. Kind of ironic, considering who you work for, isn't it?*
The vampire froze above him and its features melted back to human. "Terribly sorry about that," Richard apologised. "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. "Why aren't you killing me?" he managed to get out, cradling his splintered 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...except for one. But he's cursed. You're not cursed, are you?"
"Cursed?"
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-sucking demons who like to torture people. They don't usually go in for spiritualism."
Richard sighed regretfully. "Yes, that is true. I do recall when I also felt that way, but now I have seen the light. I joined this spa in order to get easy access to its customers for 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 slowly, I seemed to rediscover how to care...to feel compassion, all those things I had lost as a vampire. By that point, I considered it unacceptable to hurt another being, so I began to get my blood from the reserves kept here for our patients with blood-related disorders. I am terribly sorry, but when you shot me, I 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 squeezed out, 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 peace, loving themselves and others. Many developed romantic relationships as a result."
Wesley frowned. "Tell me more about the 'miracles'."
* * *
Cordelia wandered down the empty corridor. She'd run and run...and now, while safe, she had no idea were she was. She felt a moment's guilt over abandoning Wesley, 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, looking around. The rooms on either side, 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? She continued down the passage, her dreamy walk and confused expression giving her the look of a wandering nymph, having leapt out a storybook to see this strange modern place. "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 words, but instead just 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 on the parking lot. A rumbling growing in his throat, he ran for the entrance to the spa. Shoving the door open with brutal force, he strode down the passageway, eyes narrow with lethal intent. He rounded a corner, and there he was. The one who had taken Cordelia away. He was obviously in pain, and was being helped by a white-clothed man with crossbow bolt protuding 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, heaving him up of the ground. Much to his relief, Angel didn't immediately rip his heart out. "Where is Cordelia?" Angel snarled, vampiric mask inches from Wesley's own pale features.
"I'm not exactly sure..." Wesley began.
Angel slammed him once against the wall, and Wesley could fell the red haze creeping back. "Where is my Cordelia?"
"Angel, there's something else I need to warn you about. Richard and I have been talking and about this spell - "
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 saw it, she knew where the feeling was leading her. The Peace Room. That wonderful room where she and Angel began to realise the depth of their feelings, where the whole world made sense. The room was pitch dark, as always, and she could hear the soothing, hypnotic music. It brought back memories of their first visit, of being held safe and comforted in Angel's arms in the darkness. Slowly, Cordelia approached the doorway, that wonderful feeling growing stronger with every step.
Right at the doorway, she froze. She wasn't sure why. Perhaps something about the strangeness of situtation penetrated her magic-confused consciousness. Perhaps, she simply felt that icy tingle on the back of her neck which screamed, 'Predator!' But then it was too late. Cordelia was seized in an invisible grip and yanked through the doorway. The door slammed shut behind her with a click, as she began to scream.
* * *
Angel was dangerous inches away from pulling the crossbow bolt out of Richard's chest and ramming it in his head, when he heard Cordelia's scream. " I'm coming!" he roared, turning and bounding away, like a bloodhound on the scent.
Following close behind, Wesley held his crossbow in one hand, holding his injured one away from his body. He could barely feel it any more. He wondered if that was good. 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 rounded a corner to see Angel staring impotently at a heavy, closed door. From behind, they could hear Cordelia's impassioned screaming. " Cordelia!" Angel screamed in response.
Wesley, breathing hard with exhaustion and fear, tried to speak. "Angel, about this place, there's something you should know..."
Ignoring him, 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. The entire building shook with an angry rumble, and blood began pour from the cracks in the door.
"...it's alive." Wesley finished.
* * *
At first, when Cordelia had entered the room, she had felt very, very cold. But rapidly that chill had been replaced by pain. Numbing, agonizing pain, worse than a vision even, flooded her entire body. Dimly, she was aware of the door shaking, of Angel's cries. 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, almost like a presence inside her, tearing at her thoughts and emotions. She wondered if, when it was sated, there'd be anything left of her.
* * *
Angel stared at the bleeding door in horror. "Explain," he asked Wesley, shocked out of his consuming rage.
"I don't have time for details," Wesley said hastily, "but basically, the entire building is alive. 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, considering you had an intimate relationship already. Your out-of-control emotions just took it to the next level, so -"
"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."
"Well, my separating you two drove your emotions to unprecedented heights, so it's in the middle of feeding frenzy of sorts. That room is its focus, the centre of its influence, so to speak. We need to get Cordelia out of there soon, or she might be emotionally crippled forever," Wesley said grimly.
"How 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, I'll take the middle," he ordered. The vampires looked at each other. "Now, damnit!" The three positioned themselves, hands resting on the bleeding door. "All right, push on three..."
*This is it, Wesley* the voice whispered. *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, a demon hunters, a human being. Failure.*
"Again!" Wesley screamed. The door shifted, creaking.
* You'll never amount to anything. You're worthless. Completely worthless,* the voice told him, but Wesley detected a hint of uncertainity 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, and screamed with the consuming pain, but the door screamed as well, crashing open. As Wesley collapsed, Angel leapt past him, cradling the screaming Cordelia in his arms. As Cordelia subsided into hysterical sobbing, Wesley remembered that it still wasn't finished. "Oh, bloody hell," he muttered, pulling himself to his feet. He swayed on his feet as he hefted his crossbow in one hand and slammed against one of the Peace Room's black walls. The wooden weapon splintered as he bashed in against the wall again. Blood oozed from cracks in the wall, black paint peeling aside like torn skin. Angel seemed to get the idea as well, pushing Cordelia gently aside and slamming his fist into the walls. Richard began to kick one of the walls, causing a series of moaning from the black surface. Finally, Cordelia rose to her feet as well, clawing at the walls with her nails.
Between them, they slowly tore the room apart. Wesley didn't see it though. After his first two strokes, Wesley had collapsed in a boneless heap on the floor, crossbow still held tightly in his hand.
* * *
"So, how are we this morning?" Wesley asked, carefully levering 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.
"Tough as a rock," Wesley reponded proudly, pounding his good hand against his chest. " 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.
"I shall ignore that," Wesley said with careful dignity. "Well, once my arm was in the cast, I managed to get some early-morning one-handed research done, if anyone's interested."
"Jeez, Wes," Cordelia said disbelievingly. "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, 'There are people with knife wounds a room away, and I don't have time for any idiot Englishmen who probably tried to take out someone too large for them in a bar fight.'"
"Well that's hardly accurate," Cordelia remarked.
"Indeed."
"I mean Angel's roughly your size 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 a 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, exactly?" 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 energies attracted and fed off negative energies, growing larger and actively 'infecting' the area. When people were placed in the Peace Room, it siphoned off their negative energies. There's supposed to be a balance of postive and negative in the the body..."
"....like Ying and Yang," Angel interrupted.
"Exactly, and without the negative, the postive energies went wild, often resulting in unwarranted...affections developing. Richard, that vampire had the same effect, but because he was souless and severely lacking 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!"
"Interesting..." Wesley said, scratching thoughtfully at his cast. "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. So 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, it actively drew her towards its focus, the Peace Room, which was probably where the most of the cult died, and then proceded to try and suck her dry of all emotions, positive and negative."
Cordelia shivered. "Creepy."
"Exceptionally creepy. Considering we damaged the physical representation of its focus, I imagine the spirit is temporarily dormant now, in a kind of 'psychic shock'. Since the spa-owners kept its focus in a kind of 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 reasting 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. 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 success doesn't cancel out all the years of failures, my boy,* it said.
Wesley pulled the door open "Oh put a sock in it, father."
End
Author: Michael Dewar (Note: I am NOT a C/A shipper!)
Rating: PG
Category: General
Spoilers: None (set after the Prodigal)
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?