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 THREE
"You know, I'd have gotten into exorcisms sooner, if I realized they involved this much shopping," Cordelia said. "Then again, I would've looked around for a catalog or something, if I knew we were going to have to shop here."
"Here" was a store called "Rapt in Chains." Cordelia and Wesley were standing between the leather-corsetry section and the display of specialty whips. Wesley was trying very hard to remember if he had ever been this embarrassed in his life and deciding, probably not.
But if you needed to keep someone chained up, this was the place to be --
"I mean, people have the right to get their freak on," Cordelia muttered. "But you know, I just have to wonder. If you don't enjoy sex unless you're in a vinyl body bag, maybe you just really don't enjoy sex."
"This seems like a lot of equipment for people to get in order to do something they don't enjoy," Wesley said, casting a worried glance at what resembled, but probably was not, a hangliding harness on the wall.
"Well, you'd know, right?"
"I beg your pardon?"
"Come on, Wesley," Cordelia said. "You knew just where this place was --"
"I used to live down the street," Wesley hissed. "Back when we could all afford separate accomodations, I took a hotel room two blocks away."
"Really?" Cordelia's eyebrow was raised, but when Wesley nodded, she put her hand to her mouth. "Really?" she repeated, more softly. "Wesley, this is a bad neighborhood. Way bad. I used to live in the barrio, so I know whereof I speak."
"Well, we could afford separate accommodations," Wesley said. "Not necessarily good ones. Anyway, this was usually the only place open when I got home; they keep very strange hours. Apparently much of the merchandise falls into the realm of the impulse buy."
"Long time no see." At the sound of the voice, both Cordelia and Wesley jumped; the clerk, a man far too interested in piercing, was smiling at Wesley. "I knew all that talk about change for the vending machine was just cover. So, which of you needs a fitting?" The man looked Cordelia up and down with a proprietory gaze Wesley found discomfiting and infuriating all at once. "Or is it matching outfits for you two?"
"No, no, no," Cordelia said. "It's not for us. It's for our boss."
"Kinky," the man said. "Sounds like you guys got one hell of a benefits package."
"It's not what it sounds like," Wesley said, then realized that the real situation would probably sound a whole lot worse. "I mean -- well, we must be discreet." He ignored Cordelia's outraged glare.
"Don't worry," the man said. "Your secret's safe with us. So, what size is this boss of yours?"
"He's a big guy," Cordelia said with a sigh. "Not quite as tall as Wesley here, but way more built."
"Yummy. And what are you looking for? Sub or dom?"
"Huh?" Cordelia didn't get it. Wesley thought he did, but he really didn't want to.
He could feel his cheeks burning as he answered, "He's the one getting tied up. Does that answer your question?"
"Gotcha. Hang on a sec," the man said, before vanishing into the back.
"I swear to God, Wesley, this is the most humiliating thing ever," Cordelia said. "Well, no, the gyno exam with the demon babies is the all-time winner. But should that event ever be unable to fulfill its duties as Most Humiliating, this one will step in."
"It's not that bad," Wesley insisted. "We'll just keep our heads down, and -- oh, my Lord."
"What?"
Wesley motioned at the display case. Cordelia looked down, and her eyes widened. "Okay, those were not modeled from life. I mean, sure, big is beautiful, but this is overkill."
"How does this look?" Wesley turned to see their helpful clerk again; he was holding up a leather vest with straps that were clearly used to bind the wearer's arms behind his back. "Adjustable fit, but should be ideal for the size you described."
"Looks great," Cordelia said. "Wrap it up."
"Wait a moment," Wesley said. "Now, this is entirely secure, correct?"
"Sure. Holds the wearer in good and tight, but there's this release latch right here --"
"Release latch?" Cordelia interrupted. "What's with the release latch? Isn't bondage all about being bound?"
"Well, yes." The clerk was looking at Cordelia strangely. "But there's always a release. I mean, we don't want this stuff being misused."
"Wesley, this is no good," she complained. "If he can get out, it's not gonna work."
"We'll just take some handcuffs," Wesley said. "Several pairs. Those don't have releases, do they?"
"No, no. Just gonna wrap those up for you." The clerk inched away.
"Great," Cordelia said. "We have now been written off as perverts by a guy who sells nipple clamps."
"Cordelia!"
"Sorry. This place is making me vulgar. Can't we just get out of here? What's next on the shopping list?"
Wesley tugged out the paper, glad to have something else to think about besides their surroundings. "Well, Angel was hoping we could get a tranquilizer gun, though I'm not at all sure where to buy one."
"Veterinary-supply store," Cordelia said. "Any vet who works with big animals, like horses or cows, is going to need one." Off Wesley's startled look, she shrugged. "What can I say? You help take care of a werewolf, you learn lessons you use throughout life. But wait a second -- why are we buying tranquilizers anyway?"
"To drug our murderous, demonic employer should he break free of our restraints," Wesley said. "I should think that would be rather obvious."
"Well, tranquilizers and Angel -- not the best combo."
"The demon will already be released," Wesley pointed out. "A tranquilizer can't really make it any worse."
"True," Cordelia said. "Where are those handcuffs? C'mon, already."
"Cordelia, do calm down. I'm as dismayed to be in here as you are, but there's really no rush. It's not as if we need to hurry off to buy you new shoes for the occasion."
"Speak for yourself," Cordy replied. "I'm thinking some cool little thong sandals. Wait, no. Hard to run in those. Scratch that." When Wesley didn't respond to what he hoped was a joke, Cordelia sighed. "Okay. I'm just kinda ready to get this over with. Aren't you?"
"Agreed," Wesley said. It was as close as they had come to discussing the subject of Angel's exorcism with any seriousness.
When Wesley had arrived in L.A., he had felt reasonably close to Cordelia -- the awkwardness of their previous attraction aside, they had shared experiences, shared memories. Angel was a mysterious figure, more to be feared than trusted. He had expected to work with Angel only as a colleague, and perhaps to discover some sort of friendship with Cordelia.
Instead, Angel had become a friend; some secrets and emotions Wesley had long tried to suppress had spilled out these past months, and Angel, instead of turning away, had accepted him as few others ever had. Wesley had found it easy to respond in turn. Cordelia, meanwhile, remained at a distance. They could laugh and joke together, or, more often, nag each other for hours on end. At times, their conversations went beyond the trivial -- but only for a few minutes, and usually only when they discussed Angel.
After the cloudy glow of infatuation had worn off, Wesley might have written Cordelia off as silly or shallow, were it not for her devotion to Angel. More than once, Wesley had wondered whether their relationship were not moving beyond the purely platonic -- Cordelia and Angel were so openly protective of one another that it was hard to believe they shared no romantic feeling. But so far, anyway, it seemed that they were no more than friends.
Meanwhile, she and Wesley remained friends mostly because they both cared about Angel. Basis enough, he supposed.
"You should have told us you had to live in this neighborhood," Cordelia said. Wesley glanced at her, surprised by the shift in topic. "We could've worked something else out. You could have stayed with Angel, or with me. We wouldn't have left you here, if we'd known." She grimaced as she looked away from him. "And we would have known if we'd asked."
Angel had asked and had offered help before, which Wesley had turned down in a moment of much-repented pride. After a few moments' consideration, Wesley decided not to mention that point. "I appreciate the thought, Cordelia."
"Okay. Six pairs of handcuffs. That going to do it for you?" The clerk had a very fixed smile on his face as he held out a paper bag.
Cordelia pulled out her Visa with a melodramatic flourish. "I think this is going to max out my last available credit on my last credit card," she sighed. "Angel without a demon, me without the ability to charge -- we have reached the end of an era."
***
"We are isolated here," Father Augustine said. "This is good."
The priest's voice echoed in the emptiness of the abandoned warehouse; his cultured accent reverberated from exposed metal and the concrete floor. A few left-behind things cluttered the corners -- a red bandanna, some cans of Dinty Moore beef stew, one brown boot.
One boot, Cordelia thought. Who leaves one boot? I mean, if you need one of them, you're gonna need the other. Right?
When Angel had explained all this last night, she'd convinced herself it was for the best. And when she could think on the end result -- happy, secure, new-and-improved Angel, now with fewer demons -- it still seemed like a good idea.
But the end result was harder to picture right now, with the reality of what they were about to do there in front of her. The priest was an imposing man, foreign and strange. Wesley had gone unusually grave; he'd set up all his paraphernalia on a battered old table. Instead of snickering at his collection of potions and crystals and what-not, Cordelia found herself somewhat intimidated by it all. Intimidation was a fairly new emotion for her. So far, she decided, it pretty much sucked.
Angel was walking around the perimeter of the room, just a little too slowly for it to be called "pacing." She tried to give him a reassuring smile and did so poorly that he immediately came over to her. "Cordy -- are you all right?"
"Yeah, I am. Or I will be," she said, hugging herself against an imagined chill. "It's just a little like attending Charles Manson's parole hearing, you know?"
"I know," Angel said quietly.
"God, there I go again," Cordelia said. "I'm sitting here all obsessed about how I feel. But you're the one really going through it. I mean, you've got to be tripping, right?"
"Right," Angel said, then frowned. "If I understand what that word means."
"It means, you know -- nyaaagh," Cordelia said, making a face that seemed appropriate.
Angel almost smiled. "Yes. I'm tripping. Just keeping it on the inside."
"When the demon's out -- Angel, where are you? Where does your soul go?" Cordelia said.
"I wish I knew."
"I guess it doesn't matter, as long as you come back," Cordelia said.
"I'm not going away. I'm just --" Angel paused. Cordelia, realizing he did not mean to continue, took one of his hands in her own and squeezed it gently. Though he did not seem to acknowledge her gesture, after a moment he spoke again. "I worry about what's going to happen while my soul is gone. What I'll do. What I'll say."
"If it scares you, Angel -- we don't have to do this," Cordelia whispered, gesturing slightly at Wesley and Father Augustine, who were still bustling about with some magic powder in one corner. "It's not too late."
Angel shook his head. "I have to do it. As long as that demon is a part of me -- Cordelia, I'm its captive. I can't get through a single day without wondering what I would do if I were weak enough. About what I might do to you -- "
"Listen to me," she said, stepping a little closer to him and folding his hand in both of her own. "That demon's not going to do anything to me, or Wesley, or anybody else. We won't let it. You're going to be all wrapped up, safe -- safe like a baby in a blanket. You're not going to do anyting you have to feel sorry for. You're not going to say anything we can't handle. When that demon's gone and your soul comes home, we're still going to be here. And we're still going to be your friends. Okay?"
Angel didn't answer, but smiled at her gently. She managed to smile back.
"Very well," Wes said, a little loudly, calling them without calling them. Angel hesitated for a moment, then let go of Cordelia's hands and walked toward Wesley. Cordelia followed, to see what the others had put together. "We have constructed a protective circle," Father Augustine said. "No vampire should be able to step within its boundaries, save on St. Vigius' Day, which is still months away."
"So this is like our shark cage," Cordelia said.
"Very apropos," Wesley said. Cordelia wasn't quite sure what that meant, but his tone was approving and so she felt mollified. He continued: "The tranquilizer gun will be kept in here. So, should something untoward occur -- though of course it will not -- we are all to run into the circle. The first one here takes up the gun. Understood?"
Angel shrugged off his jacket and tossed it on the ground, then walked over to the chair. Wesley had spent the better part of the afternoon welding it to one of the building's metal beams; after giving it an experimental tug and finding it secure, Angel sat down. He sighed deeply as he put his hands behind his back. "Let's do it."
Wesley picked up the chains they'd brought and began securing Angel's feet to the chair. Cordelia took the handcuffs out of her bag and walked behind Angel, then shackled his hands around the metal beam. The tension in the room was thickening, as was her own dread; she wanted to say something to break it, something funny. But she knew it would sound wrong, more wrong even than this terrible stillness broken only by the clanking of metal.
When they were done, she and Wesley stepped away. Angel looked -- smaller, somehow. Vulnerable. Strange, to think of Angel that way --.
Angel nodded. "Let's go."
Wesley rubbed his hands together quickly. "Right." He nodded at Father Augustine, then walked behind the small table they'd set up and re-angled Cordelia's emergency flashlight so that its beam shone through a purple crystal. "Angel, I need you to look within this crystal. There is a flaw inside it -- deep, at the center." His voice took on a tenor Cordelia had never heard from him before, something lower, more soothing. "Find that flaw. Concentrate on it. Let the light there flow back into you."
Angel's face was so strange, Cordelia thought, so different. Normally, even in his happiest moments, there was something -- tense -- about him. She always had the sense he was holding something back, holding something in, and she'd always been very glad of the fact. But now he was completely relaxed and blank.
"Angel?" Wesley said, in normal Wesley-voice. Angel did not respond. In the lower tone, Wesley continued: "The soul within your body must rest, for a time. The soul will not leave the body, nor be extinguished, yet only remain quiet until such time as I summon it forth once more. When you hear this sound chime once --" Wesley struck a metal rod against the crystal, and it hummed on a high, silvery pitch, "-- your soul will go silent and control you no more. When you hear it twice together, the soul will return to its full strength. Do you understand me?"
Angel nodded slowly. Wesley took a deep breath. "Very well."
And with that he struck the rod against the crystal once more. For one second, there was only silence.
Angel's face had changed again. Not relaxed, not blank, but not holding anything back --
"I do NOT believe this," Angelus growled, lunging forward in a futile attempt to break his bonds.
"He's out," Wesley said.
"Thanks for the news flash," Cordelia said, mostly to herself. Father Augustine said nothing, but straightened up and squared his shoulders, as though preparing for a blow.
"Is this a game?" Angelus shouted, continuing his struggle with the chains. "Are you people actually that stupid? You're calling me up for an evening's entertainment?"
"That is not our purpose here," Father Augustine said. "As well you know."
"You think you can get rid of me. Well, Padre, you are sadly mistaken. That puts you above these two, who are just sad -- but not as sad as they're gonna be." Angelus fixed his icy stare on Wesley. "Nice little toys you've got here, Watcher Boy. Magic wands and crystals. Sticks and stones, they'll break your bones --"
"They'll do more than that to you," Wesley said with an almost-convincing bravado.
"This is your big night, isn't it? Your night to prove you can actually do something," Angelus sneered. "But the only thing you're gonna do is get yourself killed. Don't worry, Wesley. I'll make sure you get to see Cordelia die first."
Angelus then looked over at Cordelia, something beyond hate in his eyes. "Don't forget. We have a date later."
Cordelia turned on her heel and walked as far away from Angelus as she could get. She heard Wesley jog after her.
"Cordelia --"
"I'm fine," she said abruptly. The temporary shock of seeing Angelus again had shaken her; no matter how many times she thought about it, how many nightmares she had on the subject, she never really remembered the malevolence behind those cold eyes. But Cordelia screwed up her courage. Angel's counting on us, she reminded herself. He's counting on me. "If that's the worst he's got, then we're gonna be fine. Right, Wes?"
"Right," Wesley said, and he was so steady, so sure, that Cordelia could have hugged him. "I think the part of the rhyme Angelus failed to mention says, 'words will never hurt me.' We can handle this."
Cordelia wished he sounded more convincing.
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CONTINUED PART FOUR