Chapter Ten
Gunn was the first one in a long time to speak. "So this one time we were doing a raid on a vamp nest and I ended up locked in a room in this old building. It took the gang hours to find me so I was just left with this ugly-ass wallpaper to stare at for nearly twelve hours." Gunn kicked at the moldy straw at his feet. "You know what? I miss that wallpaper."
He shuffled away from the rank smell that he had accidentally unearthed on the floor of their own private cell deep in the 18th century Tower of London. He didn't care to know how long they'd been there, but he knew it was well beyond Long Enough. Wesley stood in a corner with the book, furiously pouring through it, trying to find what he was looking for. Fred held a lit candle for him so he could see the text.
"I don't know," She said. "I kind of like it, in a weird way. It's quiet and peaceful."
The scream from a tortured prisoner broke the absolute outside silence.
"Private beaches are peaceful," Cordelia said. "This is just disturbing." She shifted a foot to a slightly less disgusting part of the floor. "And plus," she added, "It smells in here."
"And there are rats," Gunn shivered. "Remind me again why we're not hitting Angel and gettin' the hell out of here?"
"Because it's safe for now," Wesley said, squinting in the little light there was from his candle at the words in the book (Gunn snorted quietly, glancing warily at the darker corners of the dungeon where tiny shadows flitted about in the wavering light). "If we end this memory, another will start, and we have no idea what it might be. We stay here until we get some answers."
"Find anything yet?" Fred asked hopefully.
Gunn rolled his eyes. "We'll know when he's found something, Fred. He gets all excited and starts shouting…"
"And bouncing," Cordy added. "He definitely bounces. There's even occasional dancing. But—"
"Oh! Yes!" Wesley cried.
"See?" Cordy said.
"I've found it," Wesley said, "without bouncing, thank you, or a great deal of yelling."
"Relax, man," Gunn said, clapping Wesley on the shoulder, "I'm so happy we're finally gettin' some answers, I just might bounce a little."
"What is it?" Angel asked, also crowding around Wesley.
"Hold on a minute; let me finish the passage."
Angel, Cordy, Gunn, and Fred waited in anxious silence, trying to ignore the patter of rat feet in the corners of the room and the bite of tiny bugs nesting in the straw. Eventually, Cordelia began tapping her foot.
"Come on, Wes, the memories aren't going away by themselves, you know."
"Alright," Wesley said, glancing up, "I think I know how this happened. Angel, does this look familiar?"
Angel leaned forward to look at the picture in the book that Wesley held out to him. "Hey!" he said. "That's the statue that old guy that ran into me the other night was holding."
"I thought so," Wesley nodded. "It's the Rumford Spell, named after the inventor, Thomas Rumford. It's actually rather complicated, considering it's a laymen's spell. Quite harmless, usually, but if done incorrectly…"
The sound of metal scraping through a lock interrupted Wesley and everyone turned toward the rattling door.
"Oh good, let's get out of here," Cordy said, and led the way toward the opening door.
"What does it do, Wes?" Angel asked as they all gratefully followed Cordelia. "How does it work?"
"It's a spell to corporealize the memory of one's younger self. To essentially make real the person that the caster once was."
"Oh thank God!" Cordy cried in front of them, and thinking that she was back in the hotel, Wesley and Angel hurried after her. Instead, Angel found himself outside, sunlight blinding him and he instinctively ducked, searching wildly for a place to hide before he realized that he wasn't on fire. Cordelia, meanwhile, was spreading her arms out as if to catch as many ray of sun as she could. Even Gunn stood blinking gratefully at their sun-filled and rat-free surroundings.
"Angel!" Wesley hurried to Angel's side to help shield the sun.
"It's okay, Wes." Angel said, squinting out across the landscape. It looked rather like Earth…except for the double sun. Angel glanced around them. They were standing halfway up a large hill specked with boulders. Angel and Fred had ridden the horse through here. "It's another memory," he finished. The Angel said to the group at large, "Let's start walking. Find a place to sit down, and Wes can finish telling us what's going on. And how to stop it."
They headed down the hill, Cordelia in the lead. She prompted, "So this spell brings the body of your past self to the present."
"Well, essentially," Wesley said, "only it's a physical memory rather than your literal past self, as I said." He sighed with a slight exasperation at having to repeat himself and stepped over a fallen branch.
"Why would anyone want to do that?" Gunn asked. "Wouldn't having two of you be confusing?"
"That's only the first part of the spell," Wesley answered. "When the spell is complete, the entire essence of the person is transferred into the memory and the real body dies. It's sort of a way to—"
"—live forever." Angel finished.
"Essentially." Wesley confirmed. "It's mostly used by elderly people who are more afraid of death than the consequences of magic. "
"Hold on," Cordy stopped and swiveled around to face the group, holding up a hand. "Does this mean that Angel's going to die? 'Cause, despite me not really liking him right now, that's bad."
"My body's already dead," Angel said. "It wouldn't work." Angel suddenly looked to Wesley for confirmation. "Right?"
"Theoretically, yes" Wesley said. "But I don't think that's an issue. You see, the spell has to be initiated with a very precise ritual—which I am almost sure was not done correctly, or there would be another Angel walking about which the memories would have filtered into—and I highly doubt whoever started this would complete it when the first part was performed on someone else." He glanced over at Angel. "You weren't supposed to touch that statue. When the man went home that night and incorrectly performed the spell, the god represented by that statue brought forth your memories; not his. When he saw that it was the wrong person, I imagine he aborted the attempt."
"But it was too late," Angel finished, pulling the pieces together himself. "The memories had already started appearing, only they didn't have a vessel to go into."
"Exactly," Wesley said, with a self-satisfied smile. "It was all wrong, as Angel's memories have been trying to tell us."
"You know what else is wrong?" Cordy said darkly, her eye narrowing on something behind them all. She pointed, "That."
Everybody turned. Fred was still halfway up the hill where they had emerged. She was on the ground, crying, her soft sobs only just reaching across the few hundred feet that separated them, and an Angel wearing leather pants and a deep red shirt cradled her gently, whispering things to her with a sharply joyful glint in his eye.
Wesley's heart stopped. The rest of the world seemed to lose its color like chalk drawings in rain. As if his ears were a filter to any sound but hers and the monster's that held her, he only heard muffled versions of Angel and Gunn's curses, and he couldn't hear the cheerful singing of the birds at all. It was like everything but Fred, Angelus, and Wesley were just another fading memory.
He watched the others rush back up the hill. He watched Angelus brush a hand across her cheek, and is voice, almost magnified in Wesley's terror for Fred, echo down to him.
"You see, Fred?" he said soothingly. "I told you they would notice eventually. You're not completely alone." Angelus' grin became even more wicked, and his hand suddenly tightened around Fred's jaw. She gasped and Angelus warned the others to stay back with a snarl that Wesley could feel in his gut. They stopped and Wesley watched them through the gap between Angel and Gunn, their clenched fists framing Fred and Angelus. Then Angelus frowned, as though Fred's pain hurt him, too. "Listen to her. She hasn't stopped since you all got here…"
Wesley listened. He didn't have a choice; it was the only thing he could hear.
"No, no," Fred was crying into Angelus' shirt, a fist grabbing the folds as though if she let go she would lose her sanity entirely. "You never leave here," she sobbed. "Pylea never lets you go."
"Isn't she beautiful?" Angelus smiled. "And I hardly said anything."
Wesley's stomach dropped to his feet and he suddenly remembered, as though seeing the pages again, his extensive studies on Angelus' exploits; particularly a certain unfortunate young Seer. A fire of rage and life began to burn in Wesley's feet. He glanced down at the book in his hand, fumbled shakily through a few pages, and then he stumbled forward.
Angel was trying to soothe Fred. He stretched out an anxious hand. Angelus pulled her in closer, and Fred kept whispering
"Once you get in you never come out again." She sobbed harder. "You never leave Pylea…"
"I know it's bad form to do a masterpiece twice," Angelus said softly, gently brushing Fred's hair away from her neck. "But Drusilla turned out so perfect…" He looked up at Wesley with a malicious glee. "So who wants to see if a memory can turn someone?"
Wesley's legs found more life and he could feel his heart again. He broke into a half-jog. Angel was growling for Fred to be let go; Gunn was demanding to know what Angelus had meant by that comment – some truths were too much for him to face – and Cordelia was standing with one hand outstretched toward Fred, whispering an antidote to Angelus's poison.
Angelus grinned at Wesley as he walked past the others to stand directly in front of Fred and Angelus. "Finally joining the party, Wes? Or do you want to consult your books before we vote on dear Fred's fate?"
Wesley stared coldly back; so coldly that when he remembered this moment, even years later, he remembered it in black and white. "I want to offer you some advice." He said. "In exchange for the hint you gave me, however unintentionally."
Angelus grinned wider. "And what would that be?"
"Leave. Put Fred down unharmed, and I might consider putting you back in Angel's head when I reverse the spell."
Angelus gently pushed some of the hair from Fred's face as she continued to sob. "Doesn't sound very tempting, Wes, considering that there is no reversal spell in that cute little book of yours."
Wesley smirked his best Head Boy smirk. "Oh, but there is, in a fashion. I can adapt an anti-forgetfulness spell to filter Angel's memories back into his head. You might wonder, now, what might happen if I failed to perform the spell correctly? What if some of those memories didn't make it back?" He paused for dramatic effect. "You, for example. I assure you that you'll lose your substance once the spell is broken."
The playfulness left Angelus instantly. He stood up, pulling Fred up roughly with him. She gasped as he yanked her arm, and suddenly the rest of Wesley's senses came rushing back, poised and ready to do whatever it was he had to. Angelus bared his teeth at Wesley. "You couldn't," he hissed.
"You can?" Gunn started to ask, but Wesley held up a hand to silence him.
Wesley nodded to the ocean waves that had started to lap against the bottom of the hill. "I suggest making your decision before this memory falls apart." Wesley suggested reasonably.
Several seconds of silence seemed to stretch for hours. Then Angelus shoved Fred away from him with an angry growl—Gunn only just managed to catch her fall—and stalked away into the fading landscape.
The others stared at Wesley and then all spoke at once.
"This has got to stop. Now."
"Thanks, Wes…"
"You can get rid of evil-Angel forever?"
"…Good job."
"And you didn't tell us?"
"Stop." Wesley held out a hand, his shoulders slumping a little. "Is Fred alright?"
Gunn shrugged helplessly. "We need to get her out of here," he said. Looking warily at the ship sailing across the increasing expanse of ocean, he added, "But it looks like that's being taken care of."
"But can you do it?" Cordelia asked.
Wesley rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Well, I can certainly adapt the anti-forgetfulness spell to filter the memories back into Angel….I might have exaggerated my ability to choose which memories."
Gunn's shoulders fell slightly.
Cordelia inspected Wesley for a few moments. She nodded her approval. "Way to go, Wes."
"Can you do it now?" Angel asked.
Wesley shook his head. "Unfortunately not. There are some things we need from my store of supplies downstairs."
"Of course we do," Cordelia muttered under her breath.
"I vote we get outta this memory first," Gunn said, still watching the ocean flooding nearer. "Being as I don't really wanna go swimming right now…"
"Over there," Wesley pointed toward the top of the hill, where another, much dryer memory of a late 19th century hotel had appeared under a night sky, though the suns still shone brightly in Wesley's eyes. As they stumbled up the hill as best they could, Wesley stopped briefly to pick several flowers he'd nearly stepped on. It was as close to a common earth wildflower as he thought they might find, and one of the ingredients he needed for the spell.
Then he rushed after the others, shoes damp with ocean water, and praying that he would still have the flowers in the next memory.