A Union of Souls, Chapter Sixteen
The pieces of the puzzle had all fallen into place. Only one thing was missing – the date that the spell had to be performed. While Giles had set to work checking tome after tome, and placing call after call to Sunnydale and London, Doyle and Angel had settled themselves in front of the computer. That pursuit hadn't been long lasting, however. Ami, who had been strangely silent and detached after the discussion of Giselle, the Enslavement spell and her oddly cryptic dream, which even Giles could not seem to make sense of, moved into action. Obviously tired of watching Doyle and Angel pull up zero on their computer searches, she had offered to 'take a go at it.'
Now she punched up link after link, scanning various occult sites and newsgroups with an expertise that none of them possessed. Angel could only think of one person who would have been better or more accurate, but Willow was in Sunnydale, and Giles had been unable to reach her or Buffy by telephone.
But, of course, it was Homecoming.
Angel sat in his office, flipping through a dusty and fading tome. It was written in Gaelic, so naturally Giles had passed it off to him rather than attempt to translate. Not that Angel minded – it gave him something to do while he mulled over things.
He stood on common ground with Ami and Adam – they didn't believe in vampires, and demons and sorcery, and he was having a difficult time wrapping his mind around the truth of their existence. Or rather, he was having some difficulty accepting the psychic talents that they claimed to possess. Telepathy, teleportation – it was fascinating and it was frightening. And it guilted him to no end to think that the two young people in the outer office were the promise of humanity's future; he'd known one such woman like that in his lifetime. It had been her energy and power that drew him, that made him tease and taunt her to insanity before finally bestowing on her the gift of vampirism on the day she took her vows as a bride of God.
Drusilla would have been like them if he had allowed it. If she had not met and charmed Angelus on one fateful night. Now, she was simply crazy as a loon, a psychotic vampire blessed with the gift of visions. And a terrible, unpredictable adversary to those who would dare cross her.
Angel forced thoughts and memories of Drusilla to the back of his mind. Now was not the time to dwell on the wrongs and atrocities of the past. The future was the important thing. The future of a young woman who claimed to be a powerful telepath and was the target of Cordovan's latest schemes and plans.
"You know, you really seem to have this isolationist thing down to a science."
Looking up, Angel was unsurprised to see Whistler leaning in the doorway. He stared at the demon, saying nothing, knowing that Whistler had not said all that he intended to say in that one sentence.
The demon confirmed Angel's suspicions when he strolled into the office and taking the seat across from the vampire's desk made himself comfortable. He leaned back in the chair, arms folded across his chest, ankles propped on the desktop. "I thought part of your purpose here was to interact – get involved in their lives – reach out."
"It's a little crowded out there right now. I can work just as well in here." Sufficient explanation given, Angel returned his attention to the book.
"What? You don't have questions for me?"
The vampire answered without looking up from the book, "Are you going to answer them?"
"You can always try me. I'll certainly tell you what I can."
"That's new," Angel remarked sourly, flipping to the next page. The words didn't come into focus and he realized that the demon's words and presence had distracted him already. He lifted his head, studying Whistler for a moment before asking his question. "Did you know about them?"
He didn't have to say whom it was he referred to. From where he sat he could see Adam, engaged in conversation with Giles and throwing the occasional glance in Angel's direction. It was a bit unnerving; Angel couldn't shake the feeling that Adam was measuring him and sizing him up and that he was falling a little bit short of the mark. A small matter, and one that normally would not have bothered the vampire. Yet, it did. It gnawed at him, like a persistent but unreachable itch, as if his subconscious knew something he did not and that it knew it was vitally important for Angel to have Adam's acceptance and approval.
"I know what I'm told, which isn't always much." Whistler paused, mostly for emphasis unless Angel missed his guess. "I knew about them."
"You couldn't have told me last night? You could have saved a lot of trouble and confusion if I'd known the truth."
"It wasn't my place."
"Never stopped you before."
"It wasn't my place, Angelus." Angel flinched at the use of his other name, the one he used when he razed the world as a blood-thirsty, violent demon. Whistler only used the name to get under his skin, and it bothered Angel that it worked so well; that he reacted so predictably. "There were things that I couldn't tell you because it isn't all about you. It's about her too."
"Now you're talking in riddles again." Angel lowered his eyes to the book again.
"Trust, Angel. It was about trust. I could get you both together, but the trust had to come from somewhere else."
"I told her – them – what I am," Angel reminded the demon, "That should be enough for your ideas about trust."
"You're still not getting it. It isn't about you trusting her – it was about her trusting you."
Angel was prevented from answering the demon as Doyle's head peeked into the office, "You might want to get out here, Angel. Looks like the little lady found something."
Exchanging a glance with Whistler, who looked at him and shrugged in unfeigned confusion, Angel stood up from behind the desk. He followed on Doyle's heels back into the main office where all attention was riveted on Ami and Cordelia, who had joined her at the computer.
"What do we know?" Angel asked. He peripherally noted the surprised and questioning glances that both Ami and Adam threw in his direction and, replaying his words in his mind, he wondered precisely what he said wrong.
"Don't mind him, he's always abrupt. You get used to it," Cordelia tossed out by way of explanation.
"I'm not abrupt," Angel protested softly, a bit hurt by the brunette's words. Then, half a moment later, he sighed in exasperation, more than a bit annoyed by the fact that he had allowed Cordelia's words to get to him.
"Ami has found a date for the Ritual," Giles explained as he adjusted his glasses, "Or at least, she is correlating it for us -- on that monstrous machine -- as we speak."
"Oh." The small, soft remark came from the young woman as she stared at the screen. She swallowed and pushed the chair back from the desk. "So, that's it."
Doyle lifted an eyebrow, "You gonna share with the rest of us, lass?"
"Yeah, what is all this?" Cordelia peered at the screen, wrinkling her nose in confusion. "It just looks like a bunch of dots and dates to me. I can't make sense of it at all."
"It's a star chart," Ami supplied, her eyes still focused on the computer screen. Angel wondered if he was the only one unnerved by the slight quiver in her voice. A quick glance around the office -- particularly in the direction of her friend Adam -- told him that he wasn't alone.
"Can you read it at all?" Giles inquired. "Tell us what it says?"
"Oh, I can read it," Ami raised her head, her eyes meeting those of the former Watcher. Angel could only think of one way to describe those eyes -- haunted. "I can read it perfectly well."
"Ami?" The prompting came from Adam. The young man made no attempt to hide his concern for her, moving quickly towards the desk.
"Tomorrow night," Ami pronounced. "Tomorrow night at ten o' clock."
"Eew, that's so not good."
For once, Angel actually agreed with Cordelia.