Body The characters herein are the property of Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy Productions and 20th Century Fox; they are used without permission, intent of infringement or expectation of profit. This story is set between the first and second seasons of "Angel" and takes place roughly two weeks after "To Shanshu in L.A." Any and all comments are welcome; please send praise or flames to Yahtzee63@aol.com.

Rating: R for language

Archive: anywhere you like, just let me know

Spoilers: everything up to and including "To Shanshu in L.A."

Summary: Angel's attempt to keep his friends safe forever may lead them into the greatest danger of all.

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Captive of the Soul

by Yahtzee

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PART TWO

"You're going to exorcise yourself?" Cordelia said. "What about this am I not getting?"

She was sitting on the sofa in leggings and a tank top, her hair yanked up into a slightly off-center ponytail, blue facial mask making her look like a psychedelic kabuki performer. Wesley, who had just stepped out of the bathroom in his blue-striped pyjamas and robe, was staring at Angel with the same shocked expression she wore. "Angel -- your demon -- it's a part of you."

"I don't need reminding," Angel said, pulling off his shoes as he sat down on his sleeping bag. In the explosion, his apartment had been destroyed, along with all their means of support. Angel had a little money in the bank -- enough to keep them all eating, at least for a while -- but he and Wesley were camping out at Cordelia's for the time being. To Angel's surprise, the arrangement was working fairly smoothly. So far.

"Don't you?" Wesley said. He sat down beside Cordelia, who was still shaking her head in confusion. "Angel, you are a vampire. A dead body animated by the demon that dwells within."

"Take that out, and what have you got?" Cordelia asked. "A dead body. Not good."

"I've seen, in the past, that a vampire's body can keep living without the demon," Angel said. "If a vampire can't feed for long enough, the demon is cast out, but the body goes on, without capacity for thought. Eventually becomes a living skeleton. Not pretty."

"And this is what you're shooting for?" Cordelia said.

"I'm guessing that the soul is going to survive just fine without the demon. Maybe -- maybe the two aren't tied together. If so, that should keep me from anything so drastic." Angel smiled in what he hoped was a reassuring manner. It didn't work.

"Guessing? That's supposed to be good enough?" Cordelia shook her head. "You're not going to risk yourself over something like this. And I will prove it to you, as soon as I wash this stuff off my face."

"How can you think of your facial at a time like this?" Wesley said.

"Uh, excuse me. My Old Navy commercial audition is coming up in two days, and as I am temporarily the breadwinner of this family, I think we all have an interest in my complexion being at its best. Besides, this mask is flaking like dried plaster. How can Angel concentrate on anything important with my face crumbling in front of him?" She went off to wash, leaving Wesley to continue the argument.

"Cordelia has a very valid point, for once," Wes said.

"I heard that!" Cordelia called from the bathroom, over the sound of splashing water.

Wesley ignored her and continued, "Your theory may well be correct, Angel. But is it worth risking your existence to find out? I can tell you that it's not worth it to me."

"Or me," Cordy said, patting her face dry with a washcloth as she returned to the couch. "We need you, Angel."

"Not like this," Angel said. "I'm enough of a risk to you as it is."

"Are we about to get some heroic speech, about how you won't let us endanger ourselves by staying at your side?" Wesley said. "I've been waiting for this --"

"Sorry to disappoint you," Angel said. "No, no speeches. You're both adults. You make your own choices."

"Oh," Wesley said, looking rather crestfallen. "Then what are you driving at?"

"I mean that I'm not going to endanger you any more than I have to," Angel said. "And as long as I can still become what I was before, I'm a danger to you both."

"Not to mention everybody else this side of the Rockies," Cordelia said. "And don't look at me like that, Wesley. We both know it's true."

"So, you're behind me?" Angel said.

"If 'behind you' means thinking you're doing something totally boneheaded but not mentioning more than thirty times a day, yeah." Cordelia said with a sigh.

"Wes?"

Wesley nodded. "If you're allowing us to take our risks, then we have to allow you to take yours. But I won't pretend to like it."

"Didn't ask you to," Angel said. He pulled off his shoes and got down on the floor to arrange the sleeping bag; he doubted he could sleep this early in the evening, but he had tried, during these past two weeks, to match the humans' circadian rhythms as closely as possible. "We've had a long day," he said, hoping to forestall any more conversation.

Neither of them were taking the hint, though. Cordelia set about applying some strange unguent to her hair without removing her attention from him for a moment. "So how are we going to do this? I mean, is the priest just going to drop by, cast out Angelus, have some tea?"

"Probably not a great idea to do it here," Angel said. "The ceremony might end up casting out Dennis instead."

The wall thumped once. Cordelia shook her head vehemently. "No way. So, where then? The church?"

"Difficult to draw the demon out there. Gunn's group -- the homeless kids I told you about -- just moved out of a basement place about 20 minutes away; I think that'll do nicely," Angel said from his place on the floor.

"Drawing out the demon -- yes, you'd have to, wouldn't you?" Wesley said, wrinkling his brow as he frowned. "For an exorcism, you must directly confront the demon. That means -- you'll have to let Angelus out."

"What?" Cordelia said, her face going a little pale. "Wait a minute. To get rid of him, you have to let him out?"

"I don't like that part of it either," Angel admitted. "But you guys can chain me up --"

"Oh, no, not again," Cordelia sighed.

Angel ignored her. "I'll have to take the drug that Rebecca dosed me with and hope it works the same way. We'll see, I guess."

"There might be another way," Wesley said slowly. "Have you considered hypnosis?"

"Hypnosis?" Cordelia said, wrinkling her nose. "I thought that was fake. Just stuff for Vegas lounge acts and weight-loss ripoffs."

"Nobody understands precisely why hypnotism works," Wesley said. "But it does. It's capable of unlocking an entirely different level of the conscious mind."

"In Angel's case, an entirely demonic level."

"That's the idea," Wesley said.

Angel was quiet for a moment, considering. "Do you think it would work?"

"Worth a try," Wesley said. "I can conduct a test."

"You?" Cordy said.

"Why, yes," Wesley said. "All Watchers are trained in the art of hypnotism. I was rather good at it, actually."

"It would be better than the drug," Angel said. "If something happened -- if things got out of control -- you could end the hypnotic trance right away."

"Exactly," Wesley said, noticeably happy to be of assistance. "There's also the chance -- a slight one, mind you, but a chance -- that if matters were to, well, not proceed as planned, that you might be able to throw off the hypnotic trance."

"You mean, if Angelus got a hand free and started choking one of us -- just one of the unpleasant scenarios that springs to mind -- Angel might be able to, like, break through and be himself again," Cordelia said.

"It's a distant possibility, but a possibility nonetheless," Wesley said.

"Then that's our plan," Angel said. "Get whatever you need tomorrow. Father Augustine will meet us tomorrow night."

"That fast," Cordelia said. The seriousness of it seemed to have hit her all at once. "Angel, that's going to change everything."

"It's meant to keep things from changing."

"For me and Wesley, maybe," Cordelia said. "But it changes a lot of things for you. Like, that whole subcurse-to-the-curse thing. You have perfect happiness now, and nothing happens, right?"

"I'd still lose my soul," Angel pointed out.

"So, if you had sex with Buffy again, you'd just go to mindless-zombie territory," Cordelia said. "And you're not going there. Right?"

"Right," Angel said.

He said it casually enough, but something of his mood must have come through to Cordelia. She slipped off the sofa and knelt beside him. "Hey," she whispered, gently touching his shoulder. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't throw Buffy's name around without thinking first."

"I shouldn't let it affect me," Angel said.

"Like that's ever gonna happen," Cordelia said. After a moment's pause, she dropped her hand from his shoulder and her eyes from his own. "I hope this works for you, Angel. It doesn't make any difference to me, but if it's going to make you feel safer, then that's a good thing."

"I'm still worried about all this," Wesley said. "I mean, your demon is under control. And perhaps he is a larger part of your psyche than we realize. Do you need that darkness? To remind you of what you could be? To give you the edge it takes to do the things you must do --"

"Star Trek," Cordelia said. Off Wesley's startled look, she said, "This is totally out of that Star Trek episode. The one where Captain Kirk splits into good and evil twins?"

"You never struck me as a science-fiction fan," Wesley said, slightly abashed.

"I'm not, but please. I dated Xander Harris for almost a year. That gives me honorary membership in the geek hall of fame."

"I'll always have two centuries' worth of memories to do remind me," Angel said. "Maybe that's enough."

They finished preparing for bed in silence; it was Wesley's turn to take the couch, so he set about making his bed there, tucking a sheet around the cushions with an almost military neatness. Angel tucked his pillow up beneath him as he slipped into the sleeping bag. He and Wesley were both ready for bed, but Cordelia went through yet more steps of her elaborate bedtime ritual, utterly unworried by their presence. It was all so casual, so intimate, that Angel found himself strangely moved.

How long had it been since he had been a part of anyone's life like this? Just another person in their lives, accepted as easily and totally as any human being could hope to be. For all the depth of his love for Buffy, Angel knew that the two of them had never reached that level -- never could have, given her age and the greater demands of their relationship.

And, in its own way, this was as healing, as comforting, as Buffy's love had ever been --

"This is going to be hard," Angel said suddenly. Wesley, who had just draped his robe across a chair, turned to face him; Cordelia stuck her head out of the bathroom door, toothbrush still in her foamy-lipped mouth. "When Angelus is free, the things I'll say to you -- it'll be hard to hear."

"We can take it," Wesley said. "You don't have to be afraid for us."

Cordelia nodded..

But I am, Angel thought.

CONTINUED PART THREE