Dust Thou Art
by Jeanne Rose
Part 13
Upstairs in his office, Angel closed the book slowly, blocking the page from view if not
from memory. It was one of several books he had about vampires. He'd never
bothered to read the entries about himself – after all, he knew the story better than
any chronicler, and it didn't take much to bring back the memories he'd been cursed to
carry with him.
He tried to remember the lone glimpse he'd had of himself as a human, to match it with the face that stared mockingly at him from the page. He picked up the amulet from where he'd laid it on the bookcase and read the fading inscription again. "May evil die a thousand deaths." He had not suspected that the Powers That Be had such a keen sense of irony.
He went back to his desk and opened Wesley's book to the marked page. The entry beside the sketch still raised more questions than it answered. Who had made it in the first place, and why? If its only purpose was to kill demons, surely there were simpler ways to go about it. It bespoke a lot of personal hatred to conjure a magic that would create such customized nightmares. He wondered if the lawyers at Wolfram and Hart truly understood what they were doing when they sent it.
Suddenly he was aware of someone else in the room. Angelus was leafing through the vampire book, smiling at the memories. "Well, I have to say, I'm impressed. Who would have guessed a bunch of third rate historians could get so much of our story straight?" He smirked. "Still, they seem to have left out a few of the best parts, don't you think?"
Angel sat down behind the desk, grateful for the scant barrier it put between them. "I didn't read it that carefully."
Angelus put the book down and sat on a corner of the desk. "Well of course not. What was I thinking? You remember it all, thanks to those gypsies. Every face, right? Mmmm, so many." He grinned condescendingly. "If only you'd give in and savor the memories, it wouldn't be such torture, you know. You did enjoy it. Part of you still does."
Angel flinched away from Angelus' words. Suddenly a continent didn't seem a safe barrier. "No. I'm still a vampire. But I'm not like you."
Angelus shrugged. "We can't all be perfect." Absently he began rearranging the books on Angel's desk. "Is it really worth it, having a soul? It doesn't look like much fun. All this brooding in the dark, tortured by guilt, trying to atone."
Angel stared at his other self and felt an odd displacement, as if he suddenly saw himself through his victims' eyes. "Better than being a monster."
Angelus laughed. "Why? Everyone's still afraid of you. Every time you show up in Sunnydale, they all think you're evil. Wesley and Cordelia chain you to the bed at the drop of a hat." He chuckled. "It must be such fun for them, never knowing if one night when they show up at the office, instead brooding guilt-stricken Angel they'll be face to face with conscience-free Angel and end up as a midnight snack."
"They can take care of themselves."
"So far. But sooner or later, chains won't be enough. They'll have to kill you. To protect themselves. Like this."
Angelus reached for the cord to the window shade and yanked it hard. A solid block of light fell across Angel. He cried out in pain and tried to get away from the light, but Angelus opened the other shades one after another, and there was nowhere to run. He fell to the floor, writhing in the searing light. He burst into flames that burned him to dust.
Angel awoke sprawled on the floor of his office. He bit back the scream that was still trying to escape his throat and looked up hastily at the windows. The shades were still tightly closed, but there was sunlight behind them. He stumbled to his feet and fled the office.
In his haste he collided with Cordelia at the head of the stairs and nearly sent them both tumbling down the steps. He grabbed her arm to keep her from falling and steadied himself against the railing. "Sorry."
"What's wrong?" she asked. "I mean, besides nightmare deaths and severe eye bags."
He glanced apprehensively at the all of the office windows glowing with restrained sunlight. "It isn't . . . safe for me up here . . . while there's daylight outside."
"Well, then, get down to the bat cave, for goodness sake." She moved out of his way and he started down, but somehow he lost his footing and tumbled spectacularly down the stairs.
"Ow," he complained mildly after coming to rest at the bottom.
Cordelia hurried down the steps and knelt beside him. "Wow. That was amazing. Did you break anything?" He shook his head, attempting to untangle his bruised limbs. She put an arm around his waist and helped him to the sofa. He sank into the cushions.
She stood staring at him for a moment as if wondering whether it was safe to leave him there. He stared back, remembering what Angelus had said. "Cordelia . . . why are you still here?"
She looked down at herself. "What? I know this is going on two days in the same outfit, but –"
"No, I mean . . . why are you still . . . I can't pay you very much, and this job is dangerous, not just because of the demons and monsters but . . . any time I could . . ."
"Lose your soul, turn into a class A jerk and eat me and Wesley for breakfast?"
He looked away. "Yeah."
She shrugged. "No job is perfect." He waited, needing more. "Well, there's the whole fighting evil thing. It's good to be on the right team. What other job gives you the chance to rescue people from sea monsters? And then there's . . . well."
She stopped, and looked him in the eye. "Angel, I believe in you. Sure, I worry about perfect happiness coming along and turning you into a cruel vicious homicidal psychopath, but . . . he's not you." Her brows inched together. "Which is why we've got to break this spell."
He shook his head. "Cordelia . . . I know this is hard for you and Wesley, too. But you've got to let me go through with it."
Cordelia pursed her lips. "Just because you're meant to have it doesn't mean you're meant to let it do this to you."
He sighed. How could he explain it to her? "Have you ever done something that really hurt somebody? That you couldn't bear to think about afterward?" She nodded slowly. "I live with a thousand memories like that every day. You know what kind of damage I did in Sunnydale in just a few months. Multiply that by two hundred years." He paused. "In a way it's almost a relief to finally be punished for it. It means I might someday be forgiven."
She nodded, though she didn't look at all happy about it. She looked around. "So, um – where is it?"
It was odd, but he knew without thinking that the amulet was still upstairs in his office. He could probably find it with his eyes closed, as if it were bound to him by some mystical tether. And he didn't feel comfortable with it out of his sight. He gestured back up the stairs.
"It's up in the office. Would you bring it to me? I don't want it to get lost." She accepted that and hurried back up the stairs. The sofa cushions were enormously comfortable. If he didn't move, he was going to fall asleep again. His eyelids weighed a hundred pounds . . . .
He jerked awake and found Cordelia standing in front of him with the amulet in her hand, staring at him anxiously. Did she have a stake as well? He watched her uncertainly.
"Hey! I'm not one of your evil dream people. Here." She handed him the amulet.
He took it from her and laid it on the sofa beside him.
"OK, well, Wesley went out to scour rare book shops for . . . rare books. I guess you don't have any sea dragon counterspell books handy. He should be back any minute, but I need to run a few errands before five. Are you going to be all right here for a minute? You're not going to fall down any more stairs or fry yourself in the sun again?"
He nodded with the best smile he could manage. "I'll be OK. Cordelia . . . don't worry. It'll work out, somehow." But it didn't come out sounding very confident, and she didn't look terribly reassured.