Part 2
"That's not Angel," Wesley said, eyeing the man warily.
"What? Of course it's Angel. I mean, he's just a little... a little... more..." Cordelia searched for words, trying to remain calm. "Irish?" Wesley looked apprehensively at the man sitting in bemusement on the carpet. Without being fully aware of his actions, he backed off ever so slightly.
"Cordelia... how much has Angel told you about his past?" Wesley asked quietly. Cordy frowned, not sure if she wanted to know what the ex-watcher was implying.
"You mean, like, Angelus past? Well, he always seemed to, well, skimp on the details... I never wanted to ask, it made him get all glowery and broody; well, more so than usual, if you can picture that!" She let out a nervous laugh. "I mean, come on, he's not... is he?" Now she was just plain scared. There was no way that this could have happened. Still, it could be very, very bad. She quickly scrambled backwards, keeping her gaze fixed on the bewildered man, who was now looking up at her in a very strange way. "He doesn't... *look* evil."
"And of course, you can tell at a glance," Wesley said sarcastically.
"Begging yer pardon, but I... I seem to have lost me way. Methinks I had a little too much ale last night," the familiar stranger said. "Me parents did always warn me that one day I'd end up in all kinds of... unusual places, but I never imagined anything like this." He was now casting an astonished gaze around the room, with its large television, other electrical appliances and many other modern trappings. "I've not seen anything like it. If ye'd kindly tell me whereabouts in Galway I've landed, I'll be along me merry way." He looked up at Cordelia, and his features suddenly brightened. "Of course, after I've had the chance to introduce meself properly to this lovely lady," he said, leering suggestively at her.
This was all a little too surreal for Cordy. Some strange man, with the accent Doyle's voice used to take on when he was completely drunk, had apparently taken over the body of her friend, thought he was still in Ireland, and from the way he was looking at the electric lamps, had no idea what a light bulb was. He was also coming onto her, big time. Ugh, it had to be Angel attempting to make a joke. She wasn't entirely sure that Angel even had a sense of humour; at least, not one like this, but still.
"Nu-uh, you first, buster. What are you playing at?" she asked suspiciously.
"What the lady means to say," Wesley quickly interjected, "is that she would appreciate a proper introduction." Cordelia shot him a dagger-heavy look. She was absolutely sure that this was some kind of sick game the two of them had concocted. "My name is Wesley Wyndam-Pryce, this is Cordelia Chase."
"They call me Liam..." he frowned. "I wonder if you could help; I seem to have forgotten a few things. Always had a terrible memory, I did. I seem to be havin' some trouble remembering what has happened."
Cordelia and Wesley looked at each other. Cordy was beginning to think that maybe this wasn't some kind of juvenile wind-up. And that thought made her more than a little nervous.
"Uh, Liam," Wesley said, "do you remember what was the last thing to happen to you?" Again, Liam frowned. Searching his now hazy memory, he slowly recounted the events as they came back to him.
"I do remember... I was walkin' down an alleyway; I'd just been thrown out of a tavern for incitin' a brawl. I suddenly caught sight of this beautiful blonde thing, gorgeous, she was, all dressed up in the garments best befittin' noble folk. I... I went over to her, askin' what such a lovely lady was doing in such a dangerous part of town, and she..." His voice, previously having taken on a wistful tone suddenly trailed off, and his eyes widened at the strange memory. "She... playful thing, she was, she seemed to be makin' advances of her own, but...the last thing I seem to be remembering her... biting into my neck." He paused for a moment, then shook his head as if to clear it. "A strange tale, no doubt fabricated by me half drunken mind. I appreciate your hospitality, but, if ye'll be excusin' me, I'd best be getting home..." He got up, and made to move towards the door. Suddenly, he looked down at the black pullover and pants he was wearing, and ran a hand through the suddenly short hair. He sat back down hard on the couch, staring into space. "What hell is this?" he murmured.
"Toto, I don't think we're in Kansas any more..." Cordy muttered to herself. "You're not in hell, you're in Los Angeles." She pondered that statement for a moment. "Although, actually... Wesley, a word?" Still keeping her gazed fixed on the man calling himself Liam of Galway, she grabbed Wesley by the arm, and dragged him out of Liam's hearing. "Wesley!" she hissed, the pitch of her voice rising. "Are you sure you didn't slip a little something extra into his blood?" Wesley gave her a long, hard look, wondering how it was that he always got the blame for everything.
"I don't believe that's the question we should be asking. Anyway, you were the one sitting next to him, and I have to say that two and a half hours of being stuck in a kaleidoscope while a madman plays the bagpipes directly into your ear is enough to..." noticing the panic and irritation in his eyes, he though it best to get to the point. "You said that Angel became warm as this happened, yes?" Cordelia nodded impatiently.
"Hot warm. Like he was sick or something."
"Now, what is one characteristic we don't usually associate with vampires?"
"Good taste in movies? Oh! Right, body heat, heartbeat. Ohh," it was beginning to dawn on her. "So he's human? Well, that's great, but excuse me for not being thrilled at having Mr Lecherous Irishman staring at my breasts, he's staring at my breasts!" she managed to shriek while still keeping her voice to an angry hiss.
Wesley looked over at Liam, who was definitely developing a fondness for the less bulky women's clothes of now. He glanced down at the gauzy, barely there top she was wearing today.
"I can't think why," he muttered drily, before moving in front of Cordelia so that the human version of Angel didn't have such a favourable view of the seer. Current problem solved, he went back to deliberating over the crisis as a whole. "If I didn't know any better, I would say that Angel has shanshued. But I was under the impression that, if and when he did, it would be after facing much evil, and averting multiple armageddons, and my god Cordelia, aren't you just the slightest bit cold in that outfit?"
"Urgh, what is it with you disgusting men? Can I not get through *one* day without one or the other of you trying to see down my top or up my skirt?" she said, crossing her arms across her chest.
"More like see through your top... right," he said at the threatening flash of her eyes. "Yes, right, well, exactly what has Angel told you about his life as a human?" She thought hard.
"Apart from the whole Ireland thing... yeah, no, it never came up. He never liked to talk about his past. Wesley, we have to get him back!" It was starting to seem like she'd lost her Angel forever - the Angel she really cared about, always worried about whenever he had to go out and save the world, again. Her very best friend in all the world. Maybe more... he meant so much to her, she had no idea what she'd do without him.
"Cordelia, I promise, I will do my best, but I'm at a loss. I know very little about Angel's past in Galway; from the research I did when we were in Sunnydale, I only know that, having been turned, he slaughtered the inhabitants of the town. Otherwise, I know next to nothing of the human Liam. But I think I have some idea of where we can go to find out..." He looked over at Liam, who was now reverently examining the remote control. "I wonder if his singing voice is any better than our Angel's?"
"I can't liiive, if living is without yooou!" All of the patrons of the club winced as the large, hairy demon, that almost resembled a cross between a grizzly bear and John Goodman, plus antlers and the violent aroma of dead fish, tunelessly bleated out the lyrics. As the song came to a close, there was a collective sigh of relief, before some of the more benevolent demons gave a feeble round of applause. The green demon sitting at the bar gave a loud cough, trying to give himself time to think.
"Why, thank you Sid! Your native tongue may not be English," he squinted at what he assumed was the demon's mouth, "if indeed you have a tongue, but you can sure talk a lyric! And Sid, that little problem you were having, your life partner understands, and it happens to every demon. Now, if anyone else wants to share his feelings, don't be shy! Come talk to Ramon at the bar, and, may I add, Ramone makes a fantabulous tequila sunrise. Don't just take my word for it!" Walking over to the table that Cordelia and Wesley had dragged the overwhelmed Liam to, he raised an eyebrow at the ex-vampire. "Speaking of sunrises, one of the pluses of being a creature of daylight."
Liam looked the flamboyant demon up and down, having no idea what to think. And he'd thought *his* clothes were bad. The last thing he remembered, the year was around 1754, people dressed normally, and people were... well, *people*. Now he'd suddenly been told it's 2001, he'd been calling himself Angel for the last two hundred years, he'd been an evil vampire for who knew how long, before getting a soul and doing good in this strange city where the colonies had been. It was horrendous. Whatever had possessed him to choose such a pseudonym? Nursing his fifth or sixth drink - he wasn't sure what it was, something to do with vodka, celery, and the Virgin Mother - he blearily gazed around at the other patrons, and the bar itself. He had no idea what was in the strange smelling concoction, but he liked it; it seemed to be taking the edge off.
However, he wasn't sure he liked the year 2001. There were artificial lights that didn't require a flame, transport without horses, and beings who looked like they had a very bad case of jaundice or gangrene. Extra limbs, slimy, multicoloured; he was convinced this was a nightmare. If he ever woke up, he swore he would never touch any alcohol ever again, or at least not enough to cause such horrible dreams.
Cordelia looked desperately at the Host. "Please, you have to... fix him! Or at least tell me how! How did this happen?" Lorne let out an ironic chuckle, which did very little to comfort the ex-cheerleader.
"Sweetie, if I knew what had happened, I'd tell you. Gotta say, I expected to have to wait at least a couple of decades for this little improvement. The old personality swapperooni came as a bit of a shocker to me, too! But, the Powers work in strange ways," he said mysteriously. There was a long silence.
"And?" Wesley said, more than a little impatient.
"Woah, Silver! I'm not one of those Chinese fortune cookies, you know; you can't just keep coming to the restaurant trying to get the horoscope that sounds pleasant and clear. If I knew any more, I'd tell you. Believe it or not, I'm not the Powers' number one guy - I'm just a messenger. Not even a messenger - I just get those psychedelic little patterns to read from around people's heads... But I do know that this is eventually for the best. Those that Be are usually pretty all knowing and wise."
He paused as he looked over at Cordy. It looked as if her heart was breaking. However little he knew about Angel's current incarnation, he'd known all about the feelings in that relationship; he had on more than one occasion thought about knocking their silly little heads together, then locking them in a small room for some alone time, if he heard the family analogy one more time. He sure wouldn't have liked to have been in a family with emotions like that being thrown around; there was a word for it. Incest. Although, in comparison with his own family life, incest was pretty tame. He sighed.
"Fine. I'm not supposed to help you out with this, but if anyone asks, you tortured poor little old me until I did. You were meant to work it out all on your lonesomes, but I can see how much that's not going to happen. Now, from what I've seen, I'm thinking... it's amnesia, people. More than likely, temporary. And you know what can help shift amnesia?"
"A stimulus, positive or negative, that evokes powerful memories which have been temporarily buried..." Wesley breathed, having a Eureka moment. Going into Watcher mode, he regurgitated some basic textbook facts to Cordelia and Liam, who were looking completely lost. Well, Liam just looked drunk, but Cordelia was definitely confused. "Amnesia is the loss or impairment of memory, usually caused by injury to the brain, or in more rare cases, by shock."
"Well, I guess your body suddenly starting to function properly again after two and a half centuries has a pretty high shock factor. And that was just for us," Cordelia stated, beginning to understand what seemed to be going on.
"Exactly! Now, amnesia is often associated with people who have multiple personalities disorder - although, mostly, psychologists say that doesn't really exist. I think we have a bona fide case with Liam/Angelus/Angel. In many cases of the more usual kind, it was found that the what the patient needed was to be reminded of something or someone who had a significant part in their past before the trauma causing the amnesia. Angel has reverted to the man he used to be, for some strange reason."
"So... you'd be trying to tell me, I'm not real?" Liam slurred. "I've got to tell ya, this is a most distressin' thing to be happenin' to a man. Are you sure you're not the ones who are figments of my imagination? Because... 'cause I always did have a head full of, full of clouds, 'twas."
"No, uh, Liam, I don't think it's that you're not real, rather that Angel has chosen to cling onto the one time he remembers being truly happy, without causing any great evils; when he was human. Pure, if you will."
"Now wait jusht... just a minute, I can assure you that I am far from pure," Liam interrupted as quickly as his dulled mind was keeping up with the conversation, his manhood at stake.
"Ooh, I know about this!" Cordy rolled her eyes at Liam's somewhat lewd, if cross-eyed, gaze. "Not your macho manliness, the amnesia thing. And, hello, like I care - so you're not exactly a saint. Big deal, move on! Even Wesley here's had sex; although, are you sure Angel didn't confuse the smells of..." she stopped at Wesley's scowl. "Fine, whatever. Anyway, it's like what they do in regression therapy, isn't it? You go back to a past life, something your subconscious is hanging onto, like a security blanket. I read a book about it once," she said in response to the amused or befuddled gazes of all three men. "So, Angel is still in there, and all we have to do is to get him to... go into the light?"
"Bingo! What do we have for the lovely lady?" the Host said, grinning. "All it'll take is a little trip down memory lane. Have to warn you, darling, it's not going to be as easy as you might think. He's not the only one who's going to have to face his more recent past." Cordelia found she suddenly had a rock weighing heavily in the pit of her stomach. She knew exactly what Lorne was getting at. A glance at Wesley confirmed her fears. Plastering on a fake smile, and an otherwise neutral expression, she turned to Liam.
"Well, it looks as if you're going to be needing a guide on your tour of Sunnydale!" He focused as well as he could on her cleavage, nodding and smiling. "Wesley, I told you that a Bloody Mary would not be calming." Wesley just looked ashamed and attempted to hide behind his own glass of said drink. Cordelia sighed in frustration. "Wesley, call Gunn; tell him what's happened, and to keep an eye on Fred whilst we're gone, because this is going to be a looong trip," she said.
To be continued...