Disclaimer: Let's see. Broke. Still working for a living. Not famous. Name not Joss Whedon. So that must mean that I don't own any of the characters that people recognise. More's the pity. Ahh well.
Spoilers: This was written about half way through season one ATS, so anything prior to that.
Authors Note: No malice is intended towards those that are mentally and physically disabled. I'd been watching 12 Monkeys and Patch Adams when this idea came to me. I know that these illnesses are debilitating and serious. Okay, now that I've got that understood (I hope) please R&R.
Rating: PG
Chapter 5
He sat watching them prepare. He wasn't too sure he wanted to remember what he was, what he'd been. The glimpses he'd had of his previous life did nothing to make him feel safe or reassured. In fact, they made him feel scared and horrified. But everyone else felt that he should, and at this point, he felt that they'd helped him this much, he may as well go along with it. Willow, Giles and Wesley sat in a circle, clasping hands. The others stood to one side of the room, watching. Before the three in the circle lay a lock of Angel's hair that they'd cut off, and a watch. Underneath the watch was some mixture of herbs that they'd prepared earlier. The lights turned off suddenly, courtesy of Phantom Dennis. Then the three started talking quietly. Angel realised they'd started the spell.
"Phunol, God of time, hear us." Giles spoke up.
"Sharwi, Goddess of life, hear us." Willow added her call to the group.
"Mintol, God of health, hear us." Wesley finally joined in. They chanted each call three times each, then opened their eyes. Before them were three tiny sparks of light, each a different shade of colour. One was a brilliant jade green. The other, hovering before Willow, was a very bright yellow, almost the colour of sunshine. The final spark was dark, almost as if it wasn't shining, but sucking light into it. It was a dark shade of red, almost black in colour.
"We beseech thee to heal our friend, who's essence you have before you. Take our offering and his essence and heal him, for he is one of your warriors." The three specks of light swirled around inside the circle they'd formed, then dove down to the hair and watch. Within an instant, so quick that Angel did not see how they managed it, the watch and his lock of hair was gone, and so were the three lights. Willow Giles and Wesley sighed deeply and let go of each others hands.
"Now what?" Cordelia asked impatiently.
"We wait, Cordelia. We wait." Giles told her, pushing himself off the floor. Willow got up and went over to the window, looking out into the noon-day light.
"Oz is here." She announced, then turned as the door opened.
"Hey, guys." The blonde man said, walking inside the house.
"Hey, Oz." They chorused back.
"Angel." He said, turning to the tall man still sitting down. "It's good to see you."
"Hello Oz." Angel said. He remembered this man. "You're a wolf." He said, pointing at him. The small man smiled, surprised.
"Yeah, I am. I thought you'd lost your memory."
"I have." Angel felt as though they didn't need to talk anymore. As though they'd said all they'd needed to.
"You remember Oz?" Xander asked.
"I seem to. But just him, nothing else. No conversations." Willow had a small smile on her face.
"That's because you guys never talked. You're both one word men. And that's grunt." She smiled as she said it. Angel shrugged in return.
"That's probably why then." The last word was gasped out as he felt a crippling pain inside his head. He grabbed at his temples, moaning, and fell from the couch on to the floor.
"Angel!" He heard Buffy cry out as if from a distance. Right now, he was too busy worrying about keeping his head from exploding.
"It wasn't supposed to hurt him!" Willow cried out, worriedly.
"Well it is!" The Slayer snarled. Angel was panting in pain, but the worst seemed to be over. "You set up this spell, not knowing how it would affect him, if it would at all,-"
"Buffy." Angel said quietly, halting her rage in its' tracks. "It's okay. It wasn't her fault. I had two hundred and fifty years of memory to fit inside my head. That's what hurt. Not Willow's cure." He was rubbing his temples as he spoke, trying to ease the ache inside. The Slayer was on her knees beside him, a hand on his shoulder. He rolled to the side and sat up, looking around. They were all crowded around him, looking concerned.
"It's okay, people. Back up and give a guy some air." They backed off straight away, all except Buffy. He looked at her slowly, studying her face, searching for the changes that had occurred since his last sight of her, over two years ago. She still looked the same, innocent and tough at the same time.
"New scar." He noted, tracing the light ridge along her collar bone.
"Yeah, one of them got a little too close for comfort." Then she gasped. "You remember!" She cried out.
"That's what the spell was for, wasn't it?" He asked, a smile tilting up half of his mouth. "It worked. But now there's all these memories right up there, in front of me, and I'm trying to see past them. It's not easy." He noticed Cordelia and Wesley sitting opposite him.
"Cordy, Wes." He smiled at them, then noted that they both had tears in their eyes. He knelt up and shuffled over to them. Cordelia surprised him by throwing her arms around his neck and hugging him tightly. Wesley just put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed. He remembered then what had happened just before he'd last seen these two. They'd all had a rip-roaring fight over how to conquer their current demon foe. He'd been in a horrible mood that day. It was the anniversary of his family's death. It never was a good day for him. He'd yelled at them both, insulted them, and stormed off. That was the last he'd seen of them until this morning. They all moved away from each other, knowing that it was all in the past, and forgiven.
"This hurts." He complained, rubbing his temples again. Then one memory pushed all others to the background. "That sonuva-." He growled quietly.
"What?" Buffy asked him.
"Timothy. The informant. That son of a bitch screwed me over."
"Does someone want to explain what he's talking about?" Buffy asked the room at large.
"Timothy was the guy who told us about the demon we were fighting when Angel disappeared. But I don't know what he's talking about. Timothy needed our help." Wesley explained. Angel snorted in disgust.
"That is one guy who needs no-one's help. Timothy is a first class warlock. One for the otherside. He used a spell on us to get us to separate, so that I would be alone. Then he and his two friends cast the amnesia spell. I was walking towards the rendezvous point, and then all of a sudden I didn't know who I was or where I was. Within seconds an ambulance appeared, obviously previously called, and I was taken to one of the hospitals. I was a child. They'd taken away all of my memories, and I was a child for so long." They could feel the menace flowing off him in waves, pulsing around the room. His eyes were hard.
"Timothy is dead." He said flatly.
"But...." Giles objected. "He didn't hurt you. Just cast a spell." Angel glared at Giles.
"Timothy was a warlock, Giles. Otherwise known as a blood-mage. Dark wiccan. How do you think he got the power to do what he did to me? I can hear their voices even now, crying out as the spell was cast. Each of them, like a separate person, screaming in my ear." He put his hands over his ears in a useless gesture, trying to shut out the screams from his memory. "Oh, he's dead, alright. And his friends, too."
"How many?" Buffy asked, her voice equally flat. Angel knew she wasn't asking about his friends, but those who'd died.
"To perform that kind of spell, and make it last? Five, maybe eight deaths would be required. I can hear them. I can hear six. Six dead because of me."
"Not you!" Cordelia told him sharply. "You didn't tell Timothy to cast a spell, he did that all on his own. Blame him."
"Wisdom from Cordy! I'm in shock." Xander called.
"Shut up, Xander." Cordelia shot back.
"Make me!"
"Oh, how mature, Mr I'm-smarter-than-you-are! I'm so impressed by your witty repertoire!"
"I didn't repeat anything! Everything I say is original."
"Repertoire, not repeat. It means-."
"Guys! Shut up!" Willow yelled at them. The both shut up, then grinned. They always had fun when they were fighting.
"Where do we start?" Wesley asked Angel, getting them back on subject. Angel smiled at him.
"Same place we always do. Research."
"In that case, to the hotel we go." Wesley replied.
Spoilers: This was written about half way through season one ATS, so anything prior to that.
Authors Note: No malice is intended towards those that are mentally and physically disabled. I'd been watching 12 Monkeys and Patch Adams when this idea came to me. I know that these illnesses are debilitating and serious. Okay, now that I've got that understood (I hope) please R&R.
Rating: PG
Chapter 5
He sat watching them prepare. He wasn't too sure he wanted to remember what he was, what he'd been. The glimpses he'd had of his previous life did nothing to make him feel safe or reassured. In fact, they made him feel scared and horrified. But everyone else felt that he should, and at this point, he felt that they'd helped him this much, he may as well go along with it. Willow, Giles and Wesley sat in a circle, clasping hands. The others stood to one side of the room, watching. Before the three in the circle lay a lock of Angel's hair that they'd cut off, and a watch. Underneath the watch was some mixture of herbs that they'd prepared earlier. The lights turned off suddenly, courtesy of Phantom Dennis. Then the three started talking quietly. Angel realised they'd started the spell.
"Phunol, God of time, hear us." Giles spoke up.
"Sharwi, Goddess of life, hear us." Willow added her call to the group.
"Mintol, God of health, hear us." Wesley finally joined in. They chanted each call three times each, then opened their eyes. Before them were three tiny sparks of light, each a different shade of colour. One was a brilliant jade green. The other, hovering before Willow, was a very bright yellow, almost the colour of sunshine. The final spark was dark, almost as if it wasn't shining, but sucking light into it. It was a dark shade of red, almost black in colour.
"We beseech thee to heal our friend, who's essence you have before you. Take our offering and his essence and heal him, for he is one of your warriors." The three specks of light swirled around inside the circle they'd formed, then dove down to the hair and watch. Within an instant, so quick that Angel did not see how they managed it, the watch and his lock of hair was gone, and so were the three lights. Willow Giles and Wesley sighed deeply and let go of each others hands.
"Now what?" Cordelia asked impatiently.
"We wait, Cordelia. We wait." Giles told her, pushing himself off the floor. Willow got up and went over to the window, looking out into the noon-day light.
"Oz is here." She announced, then turned as the door opened.
"Hey, guys." The blonde man said, walking inside the house.
"Hey, Oz." They chorused back.
"Angel." He said, turning to the tall man still sitting down. "It's good to see you."
"Hello Oz." Angel said. He remembered this man. "You're a wolf." He said, pointing at him. The small man smiled, surprised.
"Yeah, I am. I thought you'd lost your memory."
"I have." Angel felt as though they didn't need to talk anymore. As though they'd said all they'd needed to.
"You remember Oz?" Xander asked.
"I seem to. But just him, nothing else. No conversations." Willow had a small smile on her face.
"That's because you guys never talked. You're both one word men. And that's grunt." She smiled as she said it. Angel shrugged in return.
"That's probably why then." The last word was gasped out as he felt a crippling pain inside his head. He grabbed at his temples, moaning, and fell from the couch on to the floor.
"Angel!" He heard Buffy cry out as if from a distance. Right now, he was too busy worrying about keeping his head from exploding.
"It wasn't supposed to hurt him!" Willow cried out, worriedly.
"Well it is!" The Slayer snarled. Angel was panting in pain, but the worst seemed to be over. "You set up this spell, not knowing how it would affect him, if it would at all,-"
"Buffy." Angel said quietly, halting her rage in its' tracks. "It's okay. It wasn't her fault. I had two hundred and fifty years of memory to fit inside my head. That's what hurt. Not Willow's cure." He was rubbing his temples as he spoke, trying to ease the ache inside. The Slayer was on her knees beside him, a hand on his shoulder. He rolled to the side and sat up, looking around. They were all crowded around him, looking concerned.
"It's okay, people. Back up and give a guy some air." They backed off straight away, all except Buffy. He looked at her slowly, studying her face, searching for the changes that had occurred since his last sight of her, over two years ago. She still looked the same, innocent and tough at the same time.
"New scar." He noted, tracing the light ridge along her collar bone.
"Yeah, one of them got a little too close for comfort." Then she gasped. "You remember!" She cried out.
"That's what the spell was for, wasn't it?" He asked, a smile tilting up half of his mouth. "It worked. But now there's all these memories right up there, in front of me, and I'm trying to see past them. It's not easy." He noticed Cordelia and Wesley sitting opposite him.
"Cordy, Wes." He smiled at them, then noted that they both had tears in their eyes. He knelt up and shuffled over to them. Cordelia surprised him by throwing her arms around his neck and hugging him tightly. Wesley just put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed. He remembered then what had happened just before he'd last seen these two. They'd all had a rip-roaring fight over how to conquer their current demon foe. He'd been in a horrible mood that day. It was the anniversary of his family's death. It never was a good day for him. He'd yelled at them both, insulted them, and stormed off. That was the last he'd seen of them until this morning. They all moved away from each other, knowing that it was all in the past, and forgiven.
"This hurts." He complained, rubbing his temples again. Then one memory pushed all others to the background. "That sonuva-." He growled quietly.
"What?" Buffy asked him.
"Timothy. The informant. That son of a bitch screwed me over."
"Does someone want to explain what he's talking about?" Buffy asked the room at large.
"Timothy was the guy who told us about the demon we were fighting when Angel disappeared. But I don't know what he's talking about. Timothy needed our help." Wesley explained. Angel snorted in disgust.
"That is one guy who needs no-one's help. Timothy is a first class warlock. One for the otherside. He used a spell on us to get us to separate, so that I would be alone. Then he and his two friends cast the amnesia spell. I was walking towards the rendezvous point, and then all of a sudden I didn't know who I was or where I was. Within seconds an ambulance appeared, obviously previously called, and I was taken to one of the hospitals. I was a child. They'd taken away all of my memories, and I was a child for so long." They could feel the menace flowing off him in waves, pulsing around the room. His eyes were hard.
"Timothy is dead." He said flatly.
"But...." Giles objected. "He didn't hurt you. Just cast a spell." Angel glared at Giles.
"Timothy was a warlock, Giles. Otherwise known as a blood-mage. Dark wiccan. How do you think he got the power to do what he did to me? I can hear their voices even now, crying out as the spell was cast. Each of them, like a separate person, screaming in my ear." He put his hands over his ears in a useless gesture, trying to shut out the screams from his memory. "Oh, he's dead, alright. And his friends, too."
"How many?" Buffy asked, her voice equally flat. Angel knew she wasn't asking about his friends, but those who'd died.
"To perform that kind of spell, and make it last? Five, maybe eight deaths would be required. I can hear them. I can hear six. Six dead because of me."
"Not you!" Cordelia told him sharply. "You didn't tell Timothy to cast a spell, he did that all on his own. Blame him."
"Wisdom from Cordy! I'm in shock." Xander called.
"Shut up, Xander." Cordelia shot back.
"Make me!"
"Oh, how mature, Mr I'm-smarter-than-you-are! I'm so impressed by your witty repertoire!"
"I didn't repeat anything! Everything I say is original."
"Repertoire, not repeat. It means-."
"Guys! Shut up!" Willow yelled at them. The both shut up, then grinned. They always had fun when they were fighting.
"Where do we start?" Wesley asked Angel, getting them back on subject. Angel smiled at him.
"Same place we always do. Research."
"In that case, to the hotel we go." Wesley replied.
