Chapter Nine

"Ok, Angel, since when did your room become a dark ally?" Gunn peered in through the door, careful not to step his foot inside, and wishing somewhere deep within that he had not decided to do the responsible thing that morning and come in to tell Angel in person that he wouldn't be coming in anymore.

"It's raining in there," Fred said, tentatively holding a hand out through the doorway.

"Are you sure the book is in there, Angel?" Wesley asked.

"I'm sure it was in my room," Angel said, squinting into the darkness at two struggling figures, trying to identify them. "That's Faith," he said quietly.

"So what do we do?" Fred asked, pulling her arm back into the hallway of the Hyperion. Everyone looked at each other for a moment.

"We stay here until that memory goes away," Gunn said finally, backing up a few steps and crossing his arms in front of his chest.

"I'm afraid there's no guarantee it will, Gunn," Wesley said. "The memories are occurring with increasing frequency and potency. I'm not sure it's wise to wait much longer."

Cordelia, too, crossed her arms. "So you're saying we should just waltz into the dark, rainy alley with a crazy psycho Slayer and just…what, exactly? Cheer her on?"

Wesley sighed almost imperceptibly. "Listen, we know that a drastic change to the memory ends it somehow—"

"Not completely." Angel interrupted. "Last time…" he glanced briefly at Gunn. "There were still fragments."

Wesley's eyes fell, but he gathered himself up again. "Even so, we can be in there and disrupt the memory enough to find the book before another one starts…I think at this point it's our only option. We certainly won't get any farther by standing here."

Silence fell as everyone thought about the potential consequences of willingly walking into one of Angel's memories. Faith's cries echoed through the alley and into the hall, "I'm evil! Do you hear me? I'm bad! Angel, I'm bad!"

"I don't like this," Gunn murmered.

Angel shifted uncomfortably, almost as if he were about to walk away, but decided against it.

"I don't think any of us do," Wesley replied quietly.

Silence fell again, and this time Fred was the only one finally willing to break it. "I agree with Wesley," she said. "We need to find that book, and the book is in there; whether we can see it or not." One by one, Cordy, Angel, and Gunn nodded their reluctant consent, and Wesley, sensing that he must be the one to go first, led the group into the memory.

The rain tapped cold fingers on their clothes, smoothing down their hair in chilly streams. Faith sobbed in Angel's arms and a knife clattered to the ground, ringing exactly as it did in Wesley's own memories of that night. Thunder rolled above them. Cordy glanced longingly behind them at the dry hallway where her hairstyle was not being destroyed, but the hallway had completely disappeared. All she could see was the street at the end of the ally, cars sloshing through the small flood of rainwater. "Great…" she sighed.

"So how do we end the memory?" Gunn asked as soon as they stopped.

"I could pinch Angel," Cordelia suggested icily.

"Ooo, I like it!" Gunn said.

"Or not," Angel said, a little testily. "I have an idea. Follow me." Angel broke away from the group and headed farther down the alley. Everyone looked at each other in some surprise, but followed anyway. Angel stopped in front of a door in the side of one of the buildings.

"Is exploring a big, old, creepy building part of the plan Angel?" Gunn said, glancing warily up at the crumbling concrete wall. "'Cause I like Cordy's idea better."

Angel glared in Gunn's direction, but otherwise ignored him. "We go through here." He said simply. "It's not part of the memory, so going through it will disrupt it."

"I don't know…" Wesley said uncertainly. "Will it be enough?"

"If it's warm and dry in there, I don't care," Cordy said. "Let's try it." She pushed open the door and stepped through. In her joy to find soft carpet under her feet and a roof over her head, she didn't realize where they were at first. But as the others filed in behind her, she took notice of the appalling white wicker headboard on the bed, the antiquated flowery hats on the wall, and the downright frightening attempt at owning trendy décor (most of which belonged solidly in 1992). If that wasn't a dead giveaway for whose bedroom this was (hint: not Angel's like it should have been), the huge stack of well-used Sunnydale High textbooks on the desk certainly was. "Willow," Cordy sighed and rolled her eyes.

"So that didn't work," Cordelia said pointedly to Angel, who was pushing past the group and heading for the far wall by the door, where a fish tank stood beside a very blue JC Penny lamp in the corner.

"Ah well," he said. "Worth a shot, right?" He studied the fish with mild interest.

Wesley frowned in puzzlement at him. He opened his mouth to speak, but Angel cut him off.

"No need to say it, Wes, we all know you were right. You don't have to rub it in all the freakin' time."

"I wasn't going to," Wesley replied, affronted. "I was going to—"

"Wesley," Cordy interrupted, swallowing the fear back. "That's not Angel."

"And the award goes to the pretty lady in black." Angelus announced, now hovering his hand over the tank where the tropical fish swam obliviously below. "Tell me, Cordy, did you choose that color today for a reason?" He plunged his hand in and pulled out one of the fish.

"I don't understand," Wesley said, cleaning his glasses fruitlessly on his wet shirt. "Where does the real Angel go when a memory like you takes over? And how do you know things that happened after your time?"

"Because I have instincts, Wes!" Angelus snarled. He shoved his free hand deep into his pocket and pulled out a thin gold necklace, which was laced through a makeshift wire needle. He pressed the tip of it against the still-wriggling fish. "And I use them."

Cordelia closed her eyes and buried her face in Gunn's arm with a moan of disgust, while Gunn himself stood in a transfixed horror. Fred, however, was looking elsewhere.

Wesley put his glasses back on and did not respond immediately. He watched, blank-faced, as Angelus pushed the needle through the fish's head and dragged the chain through until the clasp at the end hit the shimmery scales. The fish swung like a live pendulum through the air.

"Where is Angel now?" Wesley finally asked when he had completely composed himself.

Angelus shrugged and picked out another fish. "Don't know and really don't care. It's all wrong, Wes. But you know I like it that way." The second fish flopped helplessly next to the twitching first one. Angelus held the chain up with a malicious grin. "Cordelia, give me your honest opinion, now. Will this necklace I'm making for Willow make her look fat?"

Cordelia gave him the finger in response, her eyes still hidden in Gunn's sleeve. Angelus gave a mock "Ohhh," of pain, and then pulled another fish out of the tank.

"How is it all wrong?" Wesley pressed.

"Well," Angelus replied, struggling a bit with the slippery fish, "for starters, I'm killing Willow's pets for the hell of it—I mean, it also has that nice side bonus of reminding her that I can get in and kill her, too, which is kind of fun. But really, I just like killing things. Especially when they belong to somebody else. That's kind of wrong…" He slid the third fish down the chain, leaving a trail of blood and tiny pieces of glittering fish scale and bone as it went. "Careful, Love," he said to Fred, who was curiously inspecting how cool the base of Willow's lava lamp beside her bed was. "Wouldn't want you to burn that beautiful skin of yours…"

"I meant with the spell," Wesley said, trying to calm his frustration.

"Of course you did. But did you really think I'd tell you, Wes?"

Wesley sighed and rubbed his forehead impatiently. If Angelus wasn't going to be of any help, they needed to get out of there. They had to find that book…He barely registered the faint sound of a plug being pulled out of a wall and the gentle splash of Angelus catching another fish before there came an almighty yell—from both Fred and Angelus. Wesley looked up in time to see the lava lamp fly across the room and hit Angelus squarely in the chest. He swore as he fell backward against the fish tank, catching the lamp by instinct and roaring with pain as it burned his hands. He threw it away as quickly as he could; the memory began to disappear, and by the time the heavy lamp went flying through the wall, the entire memory was gone.

"I'm so sorry!" She cried, hurrying over to Angel, who sat bent over his hands on the floor. "I'm so sorry, I had to do it!"

Wesley, Gunn, and Cordy rushed over across Angel's bedroom, too, Gunn tripping over a wooden Noah's Ark set as they went.

"I'm sorry Angel, I really didn't want to hurt you, but I had to do something, right?" Fred said.

"It's fine," Angel said, though he was still breathing heavily from the shock and pain. "Good work," he said; mostly meaning it.

"Okay, from now on, we hurt Angel to get out of the memories," Gunn said. "No more following possessed Angels and whatnot, right? I'll volunteer to—Cordy!"

Gunn saw it, but Angel was faster. Another Angel and a terrified-looking Fred had materialized on a horse in front of them, galloping away from an unseen foe, and Cordy was right in their path. Angel leapt up and grabbed Cordelia, pulling her out of the way just in time. They watched the memory disappear through the wall at the other end of the room, then looked at each other. Angel had inadvertently pushed her against the wall that he'd pinned her to the night before, and Angel realized that he was still holding her arms in a tight grip. He let go and backed away quickly. Cordy moved away, too, holding her arms and rubbing them.

"Angel," Wesley said after a moment, gently. "We need the book."

Angel nodded.

"And quickly," Wesley said, watching another memory begin to take over the room. Angel reached the book just as the table under it disappeared, and with a sudden flash of foresight, Wesley grabbed a candle and a matchbook beside from the dresser before they, too, would vanish. They couldn't be too prepared…