Dust Thou Art
by Jeanne Rose
Part 15
Angel sat on a ledge on the roof of the building with the night breeze softly brushing his face. He looked out over the lights of the city, always moving, slowly pulsing like the heartbeat of some giant creature. Beyond the tallest buildings, the ocean rocked in its ceaseless motion, and in it a sea dragon woke hungry. How many other demons prowled the streets where the lights didn't reach? How many vampires fed on the innocent tonight? And how many humans with souls preyed on each other for money and power?
His meditations were interrupted as Wesley burst through the door. "Angel, I've got it!" He hurried across the roof to where Angel sat. "All we have to do is a simple dissipation spell, and the energy of the amulet will be nullified. It will cease to have any power over you." He shook his head with relief. "It was there all the time. I don't know why I didn't see it sooner."
Angel took a deep breath and looked Wesley in the eye. "No."
Wesley back stared at him. "Angel, you can't be serious."
"I am." Finally committed to this Herculean labor of endurance, he felt a curious sense of peace.
Wesley pointed to the city. "But what about all the people who are dying out there? You have to help them."
"I wish I could. But I can't."
"This is absurd. You're not thinking rationally. After everything you've been through, I can hardly blame you, but this is no time for stoicism. We have got to destroy that amulet." He lifted the tranquilizer gun. "I'm sorry."
Angelus appeared behind him. "Let me take care of this temptation for you, brother." Before Wesley could react, Angelus casually snapped his neck.
Angel stared in horror. Peace and certainty vanished. Angelus stepped over the body, brushing off his hands. "There. Can't have him stealing away your precious penance."
Shock robbed Angel of speech. He stared at Wesley's body.
"Hey, don't worry about it. He was just one more you couldn't save." Angelus paused. "But he was right, you know. It is pretty selfish of you to put your own redemption ahead of people's lives."
He was falling down a long, long hole with no bottom. Angelus lifted a loaded crossbow.
"Well, no matter. If you've made up your mind, who am I to argue? After all, I don't have a soul. What do I know about guilt?" He pulled the trigger and the bolt shot straight through Angel's heart. He returned to dust.
* * *
Angel awoke to a sense of quiet despair. The dream was so real it took him a full minute to realize that none of it had actually happened.
The room was silent as a tomb. Angel pushed himself to his feet and went to the kitchen to reassure himself that Wesley was still alive. He was asleep at the table, snoring softly. Angel leaned over to look at the titles of his new books. They looked like sea dragon research for the most part, but there were several Welsh volumes as well.
Angelus' words burned in his heart like acid. Was it selfish to desire redemption? By giving in to the amulet's magic, was he somehow sacrificing other people's lives to save his own soul? If Wesley found some way to free him from this purgatory, could he turn his back on the Powers That Be and give himself up to the darkness as some kind of ultimate sacrifice? But how would he fight evil, how could he save lives without help?
He was empty of answers, shaped like a man but made only of dust. What did the universe want from him? His soul ached worse than his body, struggling with questions that would trouble a saint. Of course, no saint would ever be faced with a dilemma like his. His heart cried out for peace, but he hadn't the faintest idea where to find it.
Finally he went to his bedroom and took a blanket from his bed, then draped it gently over Wesley's sleeping form. He went to the study but found he couldn't sit still lest the confusion of his thoughts overwhelm him. He got up again and walked from the study to the bedroom. Then back again. As long as he kept walking, he didn't have to think.
Finally hearing the door open in the office upstairs, Wesley put down his book and hurried to intercept Cordelia.
She entered shamefaced. "I'm so sorry," she said. "I set my alarm but I must have turned it off in my sleep." She glanced down the stairs. "Is everything OK? How is he holding up?"
Better than I am popped into Wesley's head, but this was no time for them to start snipping at one another. He decided not to mention his own short lapse. "As well as can be expected, I suppose," he said. "I'm exhausted just from watching him pace. Then about three hours ago he started cleaning."
"Cleaning?"
"Dusting, sweeping, scrubbing, polishing – and not missing the corners, either. I'm tempted to let him loose on my place."
"Then . . . he hasn't been dreaming?"
Wesley shook his head. "No, he still succumbs to exhaustion every now and then. But he never sleeps longer than three or four minutes. At least he hasn't tried to harm himself." He shifted the tranquilizer gun in his hand.
She sighed. "How much longer do you think is this going to last?"
"I don't know. A thousand is a much larger number than one would suspect. And none of the books I bought make even the tiniest mention of the amulet. There's one more bookstore I could try if they're open today."
"What about the sea dragon? Have you found a counter spell yet?"
"Yes. That wasn't too difficult, once I knew what to look for. But I'm afraid we have a problem."
"What now?"
"A sea dragon's gold isn't just ordinary treasure. It's cursed. Anyone who touches it will die."
"Oh dear . . . wait. Isn't that good news? Wolfram and Hart could stand to lose a few employees."
"I'm fairly certain they know about the curse – and the way to counteract it. It's a pretty complicated spell, though. It takes six days, and it has to be performed before the gold can be brought onto land."
He watched her count backwards in her head. It took her a minute, but then her eyes widened. "They're almost done."
"Yes. They must have it stored in the hold of a ship somewhere in the harbor."
"And sea dragon is here trying to stop them, but they're using that other spell to keep it at bay."
"So far. I don't know what they'll do once they have the gold – they won't need the sea dragon alive anymore. And it's going to be out of its mind with rage. If they don't kill it, it's going to do a lot more than snatch a few people from piers. And I really hate to think about trying to fight Wolfram and Hart once they have all that gold in their coffers."
"But we can set it free, right? You have the counterspell."
"Yes. But we're out of time."
Cordelia glanced down the stairs.
"He can't do it," Wesley said, shaking his head. "I haven't even told him."
"Wait a minute. You aren't thinking that we could do it? Alone?"
"It may be the only alternative."
Suddenly they heard a crash from the basement, followed by a sploosh of water. Wesley bolted down the stairs with Cordelia at his back and found Angel sitting on the kitchen floor next to an overturned chair in a puddle of soapy water, rubbing his shin.
He looked up as they came rushing toward him. "It's OK. I just tripped."
Wesley nodded with relief and lowered the tranquilizer gun. Cordelia was staring at him, shocked. "Wow, you actually look like a walking undead person. Or, well, a sitting on the floor undead person." He stared back at her miserably. "Which is . . . probably not what you need to hear right now," she added.
Angel retrieved a brush from his half empty bucket and started in on the floor, ignoring the fact that his clothes were soaked. Wesley handed Cordelia the tranquilizer gun, and mouthed her a silent "good luck."
Cordelia righted the chair, then took one look at Wesley's stack of books and sighed. She went to the sink and found another brush, then knelt to join Angel on the floor at the edge of the soapy puddle.
He eyed the brush in her hand. "That one is for dishes," he said raggedly.
"I'll buy you a new one," she promised, and started scrubbing.