Chapter Twelve
This time, it took several months for Connor to heal. While he was in the hospital, I went back to the building to try to find clues about what that spell was and researched the symbols I saw in my vision. I never found anything conclusive, but what I did find wasn't good.
I kept constant tabs on Connor. After he was released from the hospital, I watched him get back into shape, slowly start fighting again. But it was all…wrong. He bruised his hands if he hit too hard, which wasn't nearly as hard as he used to hit. He'd lose his balance, he forgot how to flip, he'd pull muscles…
One night, after Connor had been out of the hospital for a few weeks, he came to me, limping. He had tried to jump off a two-story building into a filled dumpster and broken his ankle. He asked me to help him figure out what was wrong. I didn't know what else to do, so I took him to the only two places I knew to find a direct link with the Powers That Be. The conduit wouldn't let either of us in, since we were coming under "old titles," but the Oracles did. Oracle, actually. Only one wanted to take the place of the siblings…
Connor and Angel stepped through the blinding white light and waited a few seconds for their eyes to adjust.
"What have you brought me?" the oracle demanded.
Angel cursed silently—he'd forgotten about that.
"This," Connor said, pulling a long dagger out from his boot. He turned it around and offered it respectfully handle-first to the blue and gold being with a surreptitious glare in Angel's direction.
The oracle took the blade and inspected it. "It has served you well," he observed. "Service to others is the highest form of giving. I accept." The oracle gave a slight bow, and the dagger shimmered out of sight. "I know what information you have come for," the oracle said. "And I wish that you keep the Earth-adage about the messenger in mind during our conversation."
Angel frowned; a heavy, ominous cloud formed around them.
"Why?" Connor asked. "What are you going to tell us?"
"Only what you ask," the oracle replied. "Nothing more and likely less."
"What happened to Connor?" Angel asked.
"Many things," the oracle replied. "You will need to be more specific."
Angel rolled his eyes in frustration while Connor asked, "What's wrong with me? Why can't I fight like I used to? Why do I get hurt so fast?"
"Your powers of strength and healing are gone," the oracle replied. "They have been returned to the source you inherited them from."
Connor and Angel glanced at each other in shock. Then anger began boiling at a depth that Angel didn't even know existed.
"Why?" Angel demanded.
"The Powers That Be do not need two Champions for Evil in this region. When their Champion for Good failed to kill the boy, the Powers That Be decided to decommission him instead. You are fortunate," the oracle turned to Connor. "Now you may still live a normal life, if you choose. It won't amount to much, now that you no longer have a destiny, of course… But most people's lives don't amount to much anyway, so at least you won't be alone, right?"
"Wait, what 'Champion of Evil?'" Angel asked, not bothering to keep the threatening tone in check.
"Yeah, are the Powers blind?" Connor said, and Angel could feel the heat of his fury. "I've been working nonstop for the good side for months!"
"The Powers That Be see more than you do. They looked into your future and saw what you will become."
"Connor is not a force of evil," Angel seethed.
"Not yet," the oracle agreed.
"But you didn't even give me a chance!" Connor yelled. "You could have warned me or someth—"
"Easier than changing destinies is taking them away," the oracle replied. "It is better this way. One does not have to be a Champion of the Body to be a Champion of the Heart. There are other ways to be align with the forces of good, if you wish. Hold on, I think I have a Changing Your Career Track pamphlet here somewhere…"
With a snarl of fury, Angel lunged forward, grabbed the oracle's neck and pushed him against the marble wall, its head slamming against it with a sickening crack. "Tell me how to reverse it," Angel growled through sharp teeth.
"It cannot be done," the oracle gasped, and Angel tightened his hold on the blue neck. "Do you think the Powers have not foreseen this also? It is finished."
"It's not done," Angel said.
The oracle grasped desperately at Angel's cold fingers and said in between ragged breaths, "Killing me will not help."
"Maybe not," Angel said, "but it'll make me feel a little better." He gripped the oracle's head, snapped its neck, and threw the body to the ground at his feet, the dead bones cracking against the marble floor.
The flat rang in heavy silence. Judith sat with folded hands and a bowed head as though in deep prayer. Cordelia's gaze was somewhere not in this world, though her eyes looked at the floor. Her arms were crossed protectively in front of her; Angel stood several feet away, hands still slowly dripping blood.
"Their betrayal was absolute," he said finally. "Not only did they take away everything Connor had-his purpose, his destiny…they used me to do it." He swallowed. "They made me think Connor was in danger, made me think they were helping us, at last. But it was just to get me to go there and bleed willingly so their spell would work." He paused again. "The people in that building were all Champions of Good. Every one of us."
Cordelia shifted on the couch and rubbed her face in her hands.
"It might have just been me," Angel continued, "but ever since then I've felt just a little bit stronger… And I think I heal just a little faster." He flexed one hand in front of him, noting that the shallowest cuts were nearly gone. He might have to reopen a few if they had healed over glass.
"After that I turned completely against the Powers That Be for good, and vowed that Connor was the only one I would ever live, work, or die for, ever."
Cordelia took in a long breath, but he did not look at her.
"The Powers tried to prove me wrong. After several years they sent me visions of the people who needed the most help, made me feel the pain as they were tortured, killed, and raped. But there's no way I could have…it didn't compare to the kind of pain they already put me through; the pain they put Connor through. He went down a dark path for a long time… And then he started aging, like a mortal but-I don't know-longer. I guess they let him keep whatever immortal tendencies he got from Darla and me. A few decades ago his memories started going away. It's almost a good thing, actually. He's happy again. Or maybe…for the first time."
Silence fell again, except for a stifled sniff from Judith. Angel stared at her for a moment.
"Is your answer still the same?" he asked after a minute. She looked up and her mouth twitched. "Would you still have chosen Evie?"
She took a deep, shaky breath and stared at him, her expression incomprehensible. "I don't know," she replied. Angel nodded.
"But…" she continued. "I understand. And I am no longer angry with you."
Angel didn't reply—he wasn't sure he could—but he gave a nod of grateful acknowledgement.
"And now you owe me an answer to my other question," Judith said slowly. She stood up to face him at eye level. "Is Connor's need right now more important than William's? Is your choice still the same?"
Angel did not answer right away. He glanced over at Cordelia, who had yet to stir from her thoughts. Feeling his eyes on her, Cordy looked up.
"Why couldn't you have told us?" she asked quietly, trying to speak through a swollen throat.
"I should have…" Angel said, realizing only now how true it was. "I've never told anyone before. But you're right."
"Duh," she said. "A whole lot of crap could have been avoided."
"Oh, but we're so good at avoiding things," Angel replied.
Cordy stared at him. "Point taken," she said. "But no more avoiding, Angel." She stood up, blinking back the unshed tears. "Judith is right: We need to get time-jumping here, and you're out of time on your decision. So are you coming with…?" She crossed her arms. "Or not?"
The short walk back to Denver's store with 1950's Angel was nothing short of awkward.
Angel was unusually silent; not in his normal pensive way, but in a closed-off, mad-at-the-world kind of way. And that did not lead to many interesting discussion topics—or any discussion topics at all. The boys, instead, tried to focus on the relief of being out of the hotel and out from under the paranoia demon's influences; but the fact of the matter was that they still didn't know how to get home, and though helping Angel kill the hotel's resident monster was satisfying, it hardly helped their cause.
"So…" Calder eventually said as they drew nearer to Denver's shop, evidently unable to stand the silence any longer. "Who helps you fight demons these days?"
Angel glanced at him in confusion.
"You know…" Calder said. "Who patrols the streets with you? Who are your friends?"
Angel looked forward again. "I don't have any friends."
"You made friends with that lady…" William pointed out.
Angel thought for a moment. "Judy? I guess so… I don't know how that happened…"
They arrived at Denver's door and Angel went straight in, but something occurred to William and he held Calder back, pulling him away from the door.
"What?" Calder asked, slightly irritated at the sudden change in direction.
"I think," William said slowly, working through a slew of new thoughts that had just occurred to him, "that we need to start being a lot more careful about what we say to him."
"Why?"
William swallowed. "Because I think… I think this is the beginning for him. The beginning of his path to redemption. No, listen," he said as Calder tried to interrupt. "He once told us it took a while for him to accept his position after he got his soul: I don't think the idea of being a Champion has occurred to him yet. This is where it all starts. With this paranoia demon. With Judy. She's the one who starts to break the shell around him. We need to mess with this as little as poss—"
"Coward of the night!"
William and Calder jumped as Denver ran out onto the sidewalk several yards down, yelling at seemingly no one.
"And tell your buddies: I am thinking very seriously about putting my bedroll down right here!"
William and Calder glanced curiously at each other.
"You bastards just can't walk in here uninvited! You got any idea who you're dealing with?!"
Angel suddenly grabbed Denver by the neck from behind, vampire-face fully out. William and Calder leaped to attention and hurried over as Angel spoke harshly in Denver's ear,
"You got a reputation, that's why I'm here. Now it's been a long time since I opened a vein but I'll do it, you pull any more of that Van Helsing Jr. crap with me. Are we clear? I want the books in the back." And he shoved Denver roughly back into his store.
"Angel?" William asked cautiously.
Angel looked at him. "I'm good."
The boys glanced at each other and followed Angel in…just in case.
William and Calder stood off to the side together near the psychology section of the bookshop, watching Angel out of the corners of their eyes while trying to stay focused on the conversation between them.
"I want to help, too, Cal, but I'm just saying… The more I think about it, the more I'm afraid we're seriously messing with Angel's timeline!"
"You were the one so set on getting him to help us," Calder replied incredulously.
"Him helping us is different than us helping him. This is really important, Cal! This is Angel's first time helping humans since he was a human himself. He might have to do this on his own."
Calder sighed resignedly and looked back over at Angel, who was still talking with Denver. "We can't know, Will. We can't know anything anymore. I say: we make sure that paranoia demon—"
"Thessulac," William corrected, now that they knew its proper species.
"Whatever. I say we make sure it's good and dead before we go. This thing has to end here in 1952. We know that much, from what Angel's told us. Everything else…we can't worry about it."
William nodded thoughtfully, his brow furrowed in the same way his mother's did when she was worried. "I guess," he conceded slowly. Having no other reply for the moment, he turned his attention back to Angel and Denver.
"A vampire wanting to slay a demon in order to help some grubby humans?" Denver was saying. He shook his head. "I just don't get it."
"To be honest? I'm not sure I do, either." Angel grabbed a paper bag off of the book cart and glanced at the boys with a slight nod. He swiftly left, Calder and William following closely behind.
They had hardly passed the next store front when Angel stopped walking so suddenly that the boys nearly ran into him.
"What?" Calder asked, but Angel did not reply. He stood tense, as if waiting for something. Seconds later, the earth rumbled, and all three of them braced themselves for the quake. The ground slid under them just long enough to throw them somewhat off balance before it stopped again.
"I thought earthquakes lasted longer than this," William said uneasily after a moment.
Angel gripped the axe handle in his hand. "These aren't normal earthquakes," he said quietly, and then started walking again. The boys followed.
"What do you mean?" William asked. "What are normal earthquakes like?"
"They're bigger. Look at the people around us."
William and Calder looked at the other pedestrians near them. They seemed nervous and harried, as if also waiting for another aftershock, and trying to get to their destination before it hit. The cars that had pulled over were just starting to cautiously move again.
"Now look down there," Angel said as they came up to a crosswalk and stopped.
Again, William and Calder looked. Just one street down, it looked like nothing had ever happened. Traffic was moving along at its normal pace and people were walking and chatting with relaxed, oblivious ease.
"They didn't feel it…" Calder said slowly.
Angel bent down to open a sewer cover.
"Why didn't they feel it?" Calder asked, bending over the hole that Angel was quickly disappearing through.
"I don't know," Angel said, his voice echoing. He waited until both boys had also descended into the sewer and the cover was securely in place again. "But I'm going to take a guess and say it has something to do with you two."
The boys glanced at each other nervously as they followed Angel, who was quickly moving off again.
"How?" William asked, but Angel only shrugged.
Silence fell for a few moments, though they could still hear the roaring cars driving on the road above them. William thought he would have to get his hearing checked when he got back home. If he got back home.
"So…" Calder said eventually. "Why take the sewers? It's nighttime."
"Easier to get in unnoticed. The axe kind of draws attention."
"We should have gotten more axes," William realized too late. "These daggers won't be much help…"
"Why?" Calder said. "It's not like that's what gets it in th—"
"Cal," William hissed, jabbing him in the ribs.
Angel gave them a sideways glance. "What do you mean?"
"Nothing," William replied quickly. "Just that we're going to help you kill this thing."
Angel raised his eyebrows with much skepticism. "You're going to help me kill it?"
"What?" Calder said defensively. "We've killed demons before."
"Mm," Angel said. "Right. How old are you kids?"
"17," Calder replied.
"16," William added, for himself. His birthday wasn't for a few more months.
Angel snorted. "16," he said, shaking his head. "Who would teach 16-year-olds how to fight?"
"You," the boys said together.
Angel raised his eyebrows at them. Finally he sighed and said, "Sure." Then he looked forward and mumbled, "I'd appreciate the help."
William and Calder looked at each other and smiled.
"Okay, now we hold hands," Cordy said, and stretched out her hands to be taken. "Close our eyes," Cordy closed hers in demonstration, "and theoretically I should be able to somehow pull us back to a very specific time and place in Earth history."
"Didn't they tell you how to do it when they gave you the power?" Judith asked, tentatively taking one of Cordelia's hands.
"Kind of," she said. "The Powers give a lot of instructions via instinct, so I'm just going with my gut." Cordy cracked an eye open. "Hand, Angel?"
"Right," he said, and extended his hand hesitantly, now clean and glass-free, but stopped. "You know, maybe you should practice first. Just go back five minutes or something."
"I've got this, Angel, don't worry." She motioned her fingers impatiently, and Angel took them.
"Okay," Cordy said, relaxing her shoulders and closing her eyes again. "Eyes closed, think Hyperion 1952, and…hold on tight."