Dust Thou Art
by Jeanne Rose
Part 12
Angel gritted his teeth and tried not to scream as Wesley probed with a pair of tweezers for the bullet lodged in his side. No doubt Wes was trying to be as gentle as possible, but it felt like being stabbed with hot pincers. He flinched at a particularly sharp spasm of pain.
"I think I've found it," Wesley said finally. "It's buried pretty deep – are you quite certain you want me to try to remove it?"
Angel nodded tightly. "I've tried the alternative. It'd work itself out in a couple of days, but that's a long time to wait."
He heard Wesley take a deep breath. "All right then. Brace yourself – and try not to move."
Angel gripped the table with both hands and tucked his head against his arm. "OK."
Pain shot through him like a red hot needle. The edge of the table broke off in his hand, but he managed to hold himself still until he heard Wesley exclaim, "Got it!"
Shortly thereafter he felt gauze taped over the wound. Cordelia set down the flashlight and draped a dry towel around his shoulders. After a minute, the pain began to subside.
He straightened carefully and looked at Wesley. "What happened out there?"
"I'm not quite sure," he responded slowly. "I think we performed the spell correctly. But it certainly didn't work the way I expected. Perhaps I was mistaken about how Wolfram and Hart brought the sea dragon here."
"Well, what was all that putrid bubbling, then?" Cordelia asked.
"That's what happens when a sea dragon breathes fire underwater," Wesley replied.
"Well, the spell certainly did something," Angel observed. "The sea dragon made some kind of connection with you."
"Yes." Wesley nodded thoughtfully. "For a moment it seemed as if I were in its mind. The deep, dark ocean felt like home. And I felt even older than you are."
"Could you tell what it was thinking?" Cordelia asked.
"Not exactly," Wesley replied. "But I could definitely sense some strong emotions. It's confused and hungry and very angry. I wouldn't want to be around when it finally gives vent to those feelings."
"But it knew which boat to overturn," Angel said. "We've attacked it twice, but it sided with us again Wolfram and Hart."
"We were trying to free it. I think it understands that we are trying to help," Wesley suggested.
"Well, I could go a long time without hearing you talk like that again," Cordelia commented. "What did you say, exactly?"
"Something about gold, I think." Wesley smacked himself on the forehead. "Of course! We've been thinking too much about it just being a sea monster. What do dragons always hoard?"
"Treasure?" Cordelia suggested eagerly.
"Gold in particular. They're taking away my lovely gold, it said. Think of all the ships that have gone down at sea carrying gold. Pirate ships, Spanish galleons, all that those golden artifacts that were stolen from the Aztecs and the Incas! A sea dragon could amass quite a collection."
"And now Wolfram and Hart is trying to steal it back," Angel finished.
"That sounds like them," Cordelia noted. "So why is it just hanging out in the harbor, eating passersby? Why isn't it attacking the evil lawyers?"
"That's the spell!" Wesley cried in triumph. "They haven't conjured it from the deep. They've located its gold, and they are using some spell to keep it at bay so they can snatch its treasure like eggs from a hen."
"How do we stop them?" Angel asked.
"With any luck we can locate an appropriate counterspell. Once we set it free, no doubt it can take care of Wolfram and Hart without our help."
Angel nodded. "OK. Get to work on it."
Cordelia turned to him. "Wait a minute. I don't care how much gold they're snatching – you are not going back out there. We almost lost you. Again."
Angel opened his mouth to protest, then closed it. Maybe Cordelia was right. He had taken quite a beating before the sea dragon had intervened, and it was sheer luck that Cordelia had hit him with her oar as he drifted nearly unconscious beneath the surface of the water.
He stared hard at the amulet, sitting on the table in front of him. He couldn't just leave Wolfram and Hart and their sea dragon to their own devices. But neither could he turn his back on the path the Powers That Be had set in front of him. If only he could be certain that this was their doing . . .
He nodded decisively and looked up at them. "I have to know. I'm going to go talk to the Oracles."
Gateway for Lost Souls.
Angel stared at the words inscribed across the top of the smooth white marble archway and sighed. They seemed singularly appropriate.
He sprinkled herbs into the ash-filled urn just as Doyle had done days before his death, all the while mumbling warnings about how finicky and unpredictable the Oracles were. Angel wished Doyle were here now.
"I beseech access to the knowing ones." He tossed in a match and flames roared up. Solid light shone through the marble archway. Angel shielded his eyes, gathered up his resolve, and stepped through.
The Oracles stood idly together like a pair of Greek statues, eternally poised and knowing in their ethereal white temple. They stepped toward him, changing from one pose to another. "Come before us."
He stepped closer and held out a delicately sculpted unicorn. "I bring a gift."
The man raised his hand and the sculpture flew to him as if called. "It is acceptable," he said. "Why have you called us forth?"
Angel pulled the amulet from his pocket, but before he could speak the woman took a step closer. "Have you brought us another gift? Such a lovely thing, and old, if age gives value. You are becoming wise."
Angel went cold. How could they not know? He gripped the amulet tightly, lest it fly from his hand. "No." Afraid to offend them, he hastened to add, "Forgive me. But this is the reason I've come to ask for your help."
The woman cocked her head impatiently. "We do not exist to fight your battles for you."
"Do not trouble us with every trifle that disturbs your existence," the man added.
This was not going well. Why couldn't Doyle have shown him some less exasperating channel to the Powers? "Look, I need to know . . ."
They waited expectantly. He struggled to devise a question which would give him an unambiguous answer. "Did the Powers That Be send this? Was I meant to suffer these nightmares?"
"If it has come to you, you are meant to have it," the man said.
Well, that jibed with was Doyle had said, as far as it went. "What about the sea dragon?"
"It must be released. The evil forces that have brought it here must be stopped before they can achieve their plans."
"But how can I do both? Right now I'm no match for this thing, or even the humans."
"You must choose your battles wisely."
He nodded wearily. No doubt that was the best answer he was going to get. The bright light was making his head pound, which was making it even more difficult to think. Any minute now he was going to start falling asleep on his feet.
The next thing he knew, he was lying on his back outside the darkened portal.
* * *
"Well?" Cordelia asked as he climbed stiffly out of the sewer tunnel.
"I'm meant to have it," he said, clutching the amulet. "But we've also got to stop Wolfram and Hart." He pulled out a chair from the table and sank into it, feeling weariness settle deep in his bones. He looked tiredly up at Wesley. "See if you can find a counterspell. Then we'll figure out what to do with it."
Wesley nodded. Angel laid the amulet on the table and rested his face in his hands.
When he looked up again Wesley and Cordelia were gone, but someone else was standing over him. It was a vampire, dressed all in black, with the amulet hanging across his chest. The eyes smoldered with thinly veiled hatred. Angel pushed himself slowly to his feet.
"Angel." The vampire's smile was terribly condescending. He picked up a small table by the wall and smashed it across the pillar. Casually he scattered the pieces with his foot, then stooped and picked up a broken piece of a leg and hefted it experimentally. Angel backed away.
"Everyone else has had their fun. Now it's my turn."
He knew that voice. He didn't know the face, but he knew that voice. It was his own. Angel slid slowly backwards along the wall, away from the apparition. "Angelus."
"It's about time we met, don't you think?" The mocking, confident voice echoed out of memory.
Angel swallowed the dryness in his throat. "You're not real."
"Not real?" Angelus laughed. "Of course I'm real. I'm inside you every day. At any moment you might lose control, experience a split second of perfect happiness. And then I'm free."
Angel ran out of wall. Angelus tossed the stake into the air and caught it. "We're not really as different as you'd like to think. Except that now I get to kill you."
Angel saw the blow coming and didn't move to block it. The table leg pierced his heart. As he dissolved into dust, he saw Angelus smile.