Dust Thou Art
by Jeanne Rose
Part 19
Cold water splashed over his face and neck.
"Come on, come on, we're running out of time!"
Angel's eyes blinked open. Whistler was kneeling over him. His head felt like a block of cement and his body ached everywhere, but he responded to Whistler's urgency and pushed himself up stiffly from the floor. Whistler tried to help him to his feet, but his legs wouldn't hold him. He stared at the floor under his hands in confusion.
Whistler took his arm and pushed him up again with a shoulder under his armpit. "Come on, you slug, get your feet under you." Angel braced himself against the wall and managed to stay upright.
His eyes fell on the charred hole in the floor beside him. The amulet was gone. "I did it. It's over." Relief nearly buckled his knees again.
"Yeah, you did it, and about bloody time. But it's not over." Whistler propelled him toward the door. "There's still a few hours before it gets light. You may be able to save them." He propped Angel in the driver's seat and started the car. "Go. And don't mind the speed limits."
The stiff breeze whistling past his face revived him a bit. The horror of a thousand deaths was beginning to fade. How had he let Wesley and Cordelia go out to face the sea dragon alone? He floored the accelerator, speeding through the empty streets.
Arriving at the harbor, he spotted Wesley's Buick at the water's edge and screeched to a halt. He stumbled out of the car and stood peering into the darkness. Out in the middle of the harbor a ship had caught fire. He could just make out the massive shape of the three headed sea dragon rearing up out of the water beside it, silhouetted against the flames. It looked as if Wesley and Cordelia had been successful in freeing it. But where were they?
He scanned the water for a boat, but couldn't see anything. Impatiently he tore the padlock from a speedboat moored at the pier and started the engine. Skimming over the waves at top speed, he made a wide path around the burning ship and the sea dragon, but all he could see was some scattered wreckage that might have come from a small row boat. One of the sea dragon's heads dove into the water, and he realized that it was picking off anyone trying to escape from the ship. Cold fear knotted his stomach. If Wes and Cordy were still alive, they must be trapped somewhere on that ship.
He approached the burning ship opposite the sea dragon. The frantic people running along the decks didn't look down as he pulled up to the side and grabbed the bottom rung of a ladder. But when he reached the top he was forced back by the blistering heat and thick smoke billowing from the flames. He had burned to death quite a few times in the last few days, but this was not a dream. If the flames consumed him now, he would not wake up.
Frantic pounding coming from inside the hull brought him back to himself. He leapt up onto the deck put his ear to the boards – he fancied he heard voices that could be Wesley and Cordelia's, calling for help. The unnatural pitch of the ship suggested that it wouldn't last long. He tried breaking the boards with his hands and feet, but they were too strong. He tore a metal railing free and began to use it as a crowbar.
He had nearly broken through when he heard footsteps behind him and turned. Lindsey stood staring at him, reeking of smoke and sweat. "You?!"
Lindsey's surprise kindled a cold certainty in Angel's heart. "You sent it."
"Of course we did," Lindsey replied. "But it obviously didn't do its job, or you wouldn't be here. I'm guessing we have you to thank for all of this." A jerk of his head indicated the fire, the attacking sea dragon.
Angel didn't bother to correct him. In an instant it all came flooding back – the pain, the exhaustion, the despair. Anger tinged with shame flared up in response. Something of it must have shown in his eyes, because Lindsey took a step backward, staring at him.
"Must have been some serious nightmares, though – you look like you've been through hell."
"No," Angel replied. "Hell was a lot worse."
There was no time for this. The amulet was gone, and nothing he did or said now would erase what had happened.
"I think it's time for you to leave," he said. He seized Lindsay by the shoulders and flung him as hard as he could out into the water, then threw a life preserver after him. As soon as he heard the splash he went back to prying up the deck. When he had a large enough hole, he poked his head through.
"Wesley! Cordelia!" he called out.
Wesley's voice came out of the darkness. "Down here!"
It was getting uncomfortably hot, and the ship groaned and rocked perilously to starboard. Angel braced himself and reached into the hole as far as he could. "Come on! Grab my hand!"
A flailing hand caught his and he grasped it tightly and pulled. In a moment Cordelia knelt beside him on the deck. "Angel! What are you doing here?" she gasped.
"A little birdie told me you needed rescuing," he said, reaching into the hole again. Wesley barely fit through the opening, but with a little anxious tugging they managed to pull him free. "Are you OK?" Cordelia asked him as Wesley crawled onto the deck. "What about –"
"I destroyed it," he said distractedly, acutely conscious of how quickly the flames were approaching. "Come on." He led the way back down the ladder.
"How?" Wesley asked as they piled into the speedboat.
An explosion on board the ship cut off Angel's reply. "Later," he said, revving the engine and pulling away from the ship.
Sirens were sounding throughout the harbor, but they were far too late. As the three of them watched, the flames were extinguished as the ship sank ponderously from sight. Angel thought he could just make out the shape of the sea dragon gliding sinuously out toward the deep water beyond the harbor.
The shore was strewn with flashing lights. Fortunately they had parked at the far end of the harbor. But when they pulled up to the pier to return the boat, Kate was waiting for them.
"Do you know how many things I could charge you with?" she asked angrily. "What in hell do you think you're doing?"
He ignored her accusations. "It's over, Kate. No one else dies."
She looked at him sharply. "Except the ones on board that ship, you mean."
He glanced at the officers nearby and lowered his voice. "It was a sea dragon. They were trying to steal its gold. We set it free. It won't be back."
She blinked, as if yet another fairy tale had come to life before her eyes. But apparently she had seen enough on the trip beyond the lighthouse to believe him. "And you thought that turning a dangerous creature loose in the harbor would be a good solution?"
"It was the only one we could find." Angel stared at her, defying her to argue with him. She stared back petulantly, reluctantly taking in his appearance, and the way Wesley and Cordelia were hovering protectively on either side of him, probably glaring at her.
He turned to go. "There won't be anyone alive down there. Don't let the search teams go down until daylight."
She opened her mouth to protest, then closed it. Finally she turned and stalked away.
* * *
When Angel opened the front door to the office, he knew without looking that Whistler would not be there. Well, it wasn't as if he needed a pat on the back. It was enough that the Powers had sent someone whose answers he could understand and trust before it was too late.
Wesley and Cordelia came in behind him and stood uncertainly near the door, eyeing his pensive expression. "We should probably be going," Wesley ventured.
"I suppose you'd like to be alone now," Cordelia chimed in.
Angel looked from one to the other. They looked tired and rather bedraggled by their adventure with the sea dragon. He should probably send them home. But he couldn't – not yet. And they didn't look as if they really wanted to go.
"No, that's OK," he said finally. "I've been alone in the dark with myself about all I can stand for a while."
"Well, I guess the sea dragon got its gold back," Cordelia observed in the silence that followed.
"And one more shipwreck to add to its collection," Wesley added. "I suppose it's too much to hope that some of the senior Wolfram and Hart people went down with it."
"I'm just happy you two didn't end up at the bottom of the harbor," Angel said. "But it's a good thing you acted when you did. I may have to give you both a raise – after I finish lecturing you about taking on dangerous demons and evil law firms at the same time."
They smiled at each other, annoyingly unrepentant.
"Are you going to tell us how you destroyed the amulet?" Wesley asked.
Angel wasn't sure he could explain what had happened, even to them. "I had a little help," he said finally. "From an old friend."
Cordelia's forehead wrinkled. "You mean . . . Buffy?"
"No. His name is Whistler. He was sent by the Powers That Be."
"Then . . . they didn't send the amulet?" Wesley asked quietly.
"No." Angel tried to find words to elaborate, but they didn't come. Instead he turned and reached into a little hidden space behind the filing cabinets and pulled out a bottle of wine. "How about a little victory celebration?" he asked. "Doyle must have stashed it here," he added at Cordelia's look. "I found it about a week after he died."
They could only find two wine glasses, so Wesley volunteered to use a coffee mug. Angel poured, then held up his glass. "To Doyle."
"We haven't forgotten you," Cordelia called out, as if he were hidden in the walls somewhere, listening. Angel reminded himself that she lived with a ghost.
"I wish I'd known him," Wesley added more sedately.
They clinked glasses and mug and drank silently.
Wesley held Angel's eyes for a long moment. "To redemption," he said.
Angel looked away at the added reminder of a wound still raw. But Wesley was right. He couldn't let the amulet destroy his essential hope. "To redemption," he agreed quietly, and they drank again. "Cordelia?" he prompted.
She pursed her lips. "To the sea dragon." They both stared at her. "Well, it did eat a bunch of lawyers," she replied.
"To the discomfiture of Wolfram and Hart, may all their plots be foiled," Wesley offered. On that, they drained their glasses.
"From a purely historical standpoint, it's rather too bad that you had to destroy the amulet," Wesley said, setting down the mug.
"Yeah, we could have sent it back to Wolfram and Hart with a little note – Sorry boys, but you'll have to do better than that'," Cordelia said.
Angel blinked at her in horror, afraid to imagine what better than that might be. "Just kidding," she said apologetically.
"Still," Wesley continued, "it might have come in handy if we were to run into a particularly nasty demon."
"I'm not sure I'd wish a thousand deaths on even the most evil demons," Angel replied.
"Well, after all, you used to be one of them," Cordelia said. "Still, I think a few nightmare deaths might have been good for the mayor of Sunnydale."
"Yes," Wesley replied, warming to the subject. "And it would have made a great Christmas gift for an Ethros demon."
Angel rolled his eyes and let them go on. The wine was making him dizzy. He sat down on the couch.
"Too bad it doesn't work on humans," Cordelia was saying. "We could have given it to Dr. Removable-Parts."
"Who?"
"Oh yeah, that was before your time."
"I see. But how about that disgusting little empathy demon?"
"Barney? Yeah, I wouldn't have minded seeing him sobbing on the floor, begging me to let him kill himself."
"It might have worked well on the Hacksaw beast – though perhaps not quickly enough."
"Which one was that?"
"The one that wanted you to have its demon babies."
"Oh, right. No, I think turning him into a giant popsicle was better all around."
Silence.
"Angel?"
He didn't realize that he had begun to nod off until he felt a gentle nudge on his shoulder. Sleep was sucking him down like a giant black hole, and he couldn't remember wanting anything so badly in a long, long time. Couldn't they just throw a blanket over him and tiptoe on home?
"Angel, come on. You don't want to sleep here."
With a monumental effort he forced his eyes open and found himself looking into the earnest faces of two mother hens who clearly had their hearts set on tucking him in. Wesley was right – the couch was not very comfortable. And he realized it was the least he could do.
He reached up, and Wesley pulled him to his feet. They walked with him to the elevator, then he waited in the bedroom while Cordelia straightened and turned down the bed clothes and fluffed up the pillow.
He sat down on the edge of the bed and looked from one to the other. "I don't know what I ever did to deserve two friends like you."
Cordelia smiled happily.
"Sleep well," Wesley admonished gruffly.
He shucked off his shoes and socks and shirt and slid between the welcoming sheets, his head sinking blissfully into the pillow. Cordelia turned off the light and they drifted toward the door, watching quietly. Under their contented gaze, Angel fell asleep.
(Sigh . . . )
THE END