~*[+]*~
EPISODE FIVE
"Meanwhile, back at the ranch..."
As he exited the cave, Angel took a moment to once again revel in the suns rays. He closed his eyes and sighed at the blissful warmth on his skin.
When he opened his eyes, it was to Spike's disquieted face.
"What?" he asked. "I can't enjoy myself?"
"Yeah, I've heard that," the blonde vampire cracked, taking the question as a statement. He slung the goodie-bag over his shoulder. "I was just, I don't know, empathizing or somethin'." He shuddered. "It was horrible," he declared. "I didn't like it."
Angel's eyes crinkled a little at the corners with his amusement, but he didn't allow it to show any more than that.
"Me either," he replied. "Don't do it again."
"No fear, mate." Spike turned and headed up the grassy slope to where Buffy and Fred were waiting.
Angel had just taken a few steps to follow when Buffy began running back down, dragging Fred behind her. Spike's mirror-image reaction was only a heartbeat behind hers.
"Get down!" he snapped as he reached his Sire.
Angel allowed only enough time to frown before complying. It was only once he was on the ground that he felt the vibrations. A second later, he could hear a thundering noise.
"Horses?" he hissed urgently.
Spike ignored him. He was focused on a spot just past a row of enormous boulders. Buffy was huddled against a rock face, shielding Fred. She kept her eyes fixed on the same area that held Spike's attention, her gaze wide and frightened, afraid of not being able to protect herself or her charge. As Angel watched, she took a deep steadying breath and set her jaw, fighting past the feeling. Next to him, Spike echoed the action.
"She okay?" Angel asked.
"Just peachy," Spike grunted. He tensed, getting ready to spring. "Here they come..."
A group of palace guards on horseback burst over the ridge.
Spike pounced as they neared him, dragging one of the guards from his mount and dispatching him with a single punch. Angel hopped up to join the fray. He reached out for the next rider, but got a boot in the face instead. He snarled and harnessed the pain, trying to shift into game face.
Nothing happened.
Spike worked his way further up the hill, closer to where Buffy and Fred were. His main aim in this little fracas was to protect the women and nothing more. He flattened yet another hapless guard, then turned to see why Angel was taking so long to join him.
The older vampire was just standing there with a confused expression on his face.
"What's up with him?" Buffy asked in Spike's head.
Spike squinted. "He's not gettin' vampy," he surmised, then winced as his Sire took a blow to the back of his head.
Angel slumped to his knees, but merely put his hands to his face and tried morphing again. Another guard was bearing down on him. Spike was about to head out and intercept when Angel screamed.
It was a gut-wrenching howl of pain and there was nothing remotely human about it. The horse that was heading for him reared back in panic, depositing its rider on the grass. The unseated guard stared at Angel, then scrambled away in terror.
The planes of Angel's face had shifted, but not into their normal vampire characteristics. This was something completely different.
His entire face was ridged. Not just his forehead, but his cheekbones and chin as well. His fangs had elongated so far that he could no longer close his mouth properly, his jaw hanging loose. Vicious horn-like protrusions sprouted from his brow in bony peaks. The only feature that even resembled a regular vamp was the familiar yellow glow of his eyes.
"Holy bloody Christ," Spike whispered hoarsely. "What is that?"
Buffy couldn't even get that far. She squeaked in shock. Fred just stared, her eyes impossibly wide.
The Angel-beast roared - a terrifyingly primal sound that sent shivers up Spike's spine. This was a call to arms, a primitive cry that echoed in the very foundation of his being and instilled in him an urge to unleash his own demon.
He managed to stifle the insistent urge, a task that proved more difficult than he expected, and then backed up toward his Slayer, putting himself in front of her and the Fred girl. If Angel tried to harm them...
Spike breathed a sigh of relief as the beast turned its attention instead to the remaining palace guards. He attacked them with an intimidating zeal - effortlessly breaking bones and tearing away limbs before feeding from the fallen bodies.
Suddenly another band of guards topped the ridge. This second group seemed better prepared and was heavily armed. They filed down on foot and surrounded the beast with military precision before they began to drive it up the hill.
"They're herding him," Spike observed aloud. "They're gonna try and take him alive."
Buffy found enough equilibrium to speak to him via the link. "They've got a cage," she said. The knowledge made her uneasy. It was almost like they had been expecting this to happen.
Spike realized that these secondary guards were paying them no mind and stood to follow their progression more closely. Sure enough, there was a wagon up there, topped with a crudely constructed metal enclosure. As he watched, they shoved one of their own companions into the cage and stood back to let the Angel-beast attack the helpless man. Once he was inside, they slammed the door shut and carted him away.
"Crap," the blonde vamp muttered. "Great piles of sodding crap!"
"What are they gonna do to him?" Buffy stood up and seized her partner's arm. "What are we gonna do?" She'd never felt this useless. It was awful.
Spike huffed in frustration. "Looks like we'll be going to the castle on our own, pet." He trudged back down the hill a way and picked up the bag that he'd discarded earlier. Fat lot of good it had done. "Giles Junior and the cheerleader are already there, right? And odds are that's where they're takin' Peaches anyhow."
"Peaches," Buffy repeated. She cast an absent glance at Fred, just to make sure the girl was still with them. "So, you think that... that thing is still Angel?"
"No doubt, love," Spike reported. He tossed an arm over her shoulders and gave her a reassuring squeeze. "No doubt at all."
~*[+]*~
Wesley turned around in a circle, trying to get his bearings. Had he been past that clump of trees before?
He wasn't lost, he really wasn't. The very thought was absurd. He was following the sun - headed due west, back toward the village.
He nodded to himself and started walking again. Yes, that was it. Due west.
Then he stopped and stared up at the sky. Which sun was he following again? The smaller yellow orb, or the one with the red ring around the rim?
He paused for a moment to contemplate the fiery spheres. One of the globes was slightly more petite, with a mellower glow. The larger of the two was tainted with a dark edge and its light was harsher, almost painful on the eyes.
Silas had called the Gemel the embodiment of the suns. The more Wesley thought about it the more he was convinced that the description applied to Buffy and Spike.
It was ironic that he was relying on them to find his way. But not entirely unexpected that they had led him completely off course.
There. He'd admitted it. He was lost.
Just as he'd allowed himself to admit defeat, a rag-tag band of humans descended on him from the woods - not unlike a scene from an old Robin Hood movie. Wesley doubted that these were merry men, though, as they were armed and dangerous-looking. Possibly thieves.
He held up hands in surrender. "Please don't kill me."
~*[+]*~
Cordelia curled up in the corner of her cell, Angel's leather jacket wrapped around her body. She sniffled a little and rubbed her cheek against the soft fabric of the shoulder, finding comfort in its familiar texture. It was almost as if he was there with her, enfolding her in one of his smothery big-brother type hugs.
She was more concerned about him than she would like and it was wigging her out. Since when did she worry about Angel? He was like two hundred and fifty years old or something, it wasn't as if he couldn't take care of himself.
But the jacket thing was major fret factor material.
It wasn't like him to leave it somewhere unattended. He was so paranoid when it came to his clothes, so finicky. It was one of his more endearing traits.
Endearing?
Jeez, Cor, how long have you been in this hole? It's scrambling your brains. Angel wasn't endearing. He was ...
All right, so he was endearing. He was also shy and sweet and incredibly good-looking. Better than good - great-looking, fantastic-looking. Beautiful, really, for a guy.
Now her brain was definitely scrambled. She hadn't allowed herself to think about Angel as a guy since way back in high school, before she'd found out about the vampire thing.
Then he'd gone nuts and tried to kill them all. Definitely an unthinky subject. She was not going there.
She picked up a piece of straw and absently started shredding it with her fingers, deep in thought.
So, what was Angel to her now?
Ex-boss come co-worker, sure. But he was also a friend, a confidant, someone that she could rely on to always be there for her. She'd never had that before. And it was scary how much she'd taken it for granted that he would come and save her. He had, though, and he'd probably done it without a second thought.
She hadn't even said thanks. How selfish was that?
Cordy snorted and threw the piece of straw away, disgusted with herself. She didn't deserve him, even as a princess. Besides, he was way too important in the PTB's scheme of things, and she was only around because of Doyle's misguided vision gifty-ness.
She took a deep breath and straightened up.
Okay, that wasn't true. And this was so not the time to be wallowing in self-pity. She needed to Miss Resolve here.
There was a rumbling sound outside in the corridor, and she shot to her feet. The door swung open and she made brief eye contact with the guard before he backed away.
He looked absolutely terrified.
The rumbling got closer and she finally recognized that they were dragging something toward her cell. A big cagey thing with a beast...The Belial!
They weren't gonna let it loose in here with her were they?
Her worst fears were confirmed when the cage was wheeled to the doorway and unlocked, the barred gate swung open and the Belial leapt out onto the straw with a feral snarl.
He was big, she realized. He was also sort of vamp-like - only uglier.
"Nice Belial," she soothed, pressing herself into the corner.
The beast didn't even seem to notice her. He was more intent on trying to get past the cage and into the corridor. The guards beat him back inside and slammed the door shut.
That was when he turned on her.
Cordelia could feel the coarse stone of the wall digging into her back, even through the leather coat, and wished she had the power to pass through damn thing and get somewhere safe.
The Belial rocked from side to side as it regarded her, its body hunched over in a semi-crouch. It smelled the air in a testing sort of way and then suddenly took a huge leap forward, closing the distance between them.
Cordy squealed, her hands coming up to protect her face. She could feel it sniffing at her hair, at her throat, feel it's breath panting against her skin. She shuddered, gooseflesh rippling up her arms.
Please don't let me die in this stupid dimension.
But then the sniffing stopped and it backed off.
She tentatively peered through her fingers to see it staring at the polished gold of her tiara, its head cocked slightly to one side.
"What?" she croaked, then gasped as the Belial reached up and, in an unusually gentle motion, dragged a long talon-like nail across the surface. The friction made a harsh screeching sound and he jumped at the noise, but then edged closer staring intently at what had to be its reflection.
Oh great, now it's got all Narcissus-beast on me.
The Belial let out a plaintive cry, an inexplicably heartrending sound that brought tears to Cordy's eyes. He staggered away, only to collapse on the other side of the cell and curl into a ball with his back to her, trembling.
"Hey," Cordelia took a hesitant step toward it, instinctively reaching out to help. "Hey, are you okay?"
He moaned and Cordy moved even closer.
Okay, that was definitely a humany type moan - not a big-ugly-ass beastie moan. And from this angle the rest of him was pretty damn human too.
She crouched at his side and carefully touched his shoulder. He jerked away and scuttled into the corner, the abrupt movement revealing his identity.
"Oh God," Cordy breathed, her hand covering her mouth in horror. "Angel?"
~*[+]*~
Wesley was tied to a pole, crudely constructed from a branch that had been hacked from one of the trees nearby. The prickly bark of it dug into his hands as tested his bonds, his furtive movements drawing the attention of his captors.
"Hey," one of them shouted, "Don't even think about it."
Wesley sighed and went back to his previous activity of watching them.
They were holding some kind of meeting around a small campfire. He'd deduced from their conversation that this rag-tag assembly was the advance guard of a much larger group - a rebellion of sorts against the Covenant of the Trombli. The rough-hewn man who had shouted at him was apparently their leader - though one would be hard pressed to tell if it weren't for the way the others all looked to him for guidance. They were all poorly dressed and ill equipped, their weapons consisting mainly of farm tools.
"I know how we can send the princess a message," one of them piped up. He was a small man with a cap of reddish hair. "We storm the palace."
The leader looked at him. "It'd be suicide. Our entire number would be wiped out in minutes."
The other man blinked back, assessing the verdict, then shrugged. "Yeah, but it would be a message."
"Excuse me," Wesley tried to gain their attention. "I couldn't help overhearing..."
"Quiet, reconnaissance cow, or I'll slice out your tongue!"
Wesley grimaced at that. Such an absurd title. "I've told you already, I am not a reconnaissance cow!"
"We tracked you coming from the castle," the small red-haired rebel said, pointing accusingly with a dagger. "So don't lie."
"I'm not lying," Wesley huffed. This was utter ridiculousness. "If you want to send a message to the princess, then I know I can help. I happen to be a close personal friend of hers."
The rebels stared at him, then fell about laughing.
"I can prove it," Wesley promised, feeling strangely defensive. He had nothing to prove to these men.
The leader walked over, eyeing him with curiosity. He took in the cow's unusual clothes and unfamiliar eye-coverings and folded his arms. "How?"
"In my wallet," Wes was anxious now, he needed to get away from these people and find the others. The rebel leader just continued to stare at him, his expression now blank. Wes suddenly realized that they would have no clue as to what a wallet was. "Oh, ah, in the leather holder in the back of my trousers."
The leader yanked the wallet out - with rather more force than was necessary in Wesley's opinion - and flipped it open to reveal a photograph. A snapshot of the former Watcher, Angel, and, most importantly, a merrily grinning Cordelia. He huffed in an impressed manner and held it up to show the others. "It's true. He knows the princess."
"Yes, indeed," Wesley twisted slightly to keep the man in sight as he headed back toward the fireside. "Now, if your organization would just draw up some sort of list of demands, I'll be more than happy to present it directly to her Majesty."
The rebel leader sighed, still staring at the photograph. "Let's do it," he said finally. "Let's draw up a list of demands..." Wesley's tentative smile evaporated as the man tossed his wallet onto the fire. "...Shove it in his mouth, put his severed head on a stick and display it outside the princesses window."
~*[+]*~
Spike was hot.
Well, he was always hot, in the figurative sense, but now he was in great danger of actually bursting into flames. Heavy black leather was not exactly comfortable in a world that had two suns but he was buggered if he was parting with his duster.
He wiped the film of sweat from his brow and squinted at the horizon. The castle still seemed pretty far off. Maybe they could hijack a horse. Hell, maybe even get hold of one of those wagon deals.
"I don't think the locals would take grand theft auto well," Buffy said, halting at his side and leaning her head wearily against his shoulder. "Not that they take things well as a whole."
"Yeah. Not the friendliest of sorts are they?" Spike gave her an absent peck on the forehead, his eyes still searching the tree line. He didn't want to be ambushed again. He frowned suddenly and then spun around to glare at Fred. "Bloody what?" he demanded. The girl had been staring at them for a good while now. "You're startin' to give a bloke the heebies."
Fred was unconcerned by his combative tone of voice. "Are you the Gemel?" she inquired seriously.
Spike just shook his head at her and turned back around. "An' I thought Dru was bad," he muttered.
"What's a Gemel?" Buffy asked. "It sounds creepy."
"How the bleedin' hell am I supposed to know?"
The entire situation was frustrating Spike. He adjusted the strap of the bag over his shoulder and felt a trickle of sweat run down his back.
"Hey, back off, Mr. Snarky-pants," Buffy scolded. She thumped her chest like a caveman. "Me Buffy. Me good guy. Ugh."
Spike gave her an amused glance, his mouth kicking up at the corners. "Nice bit of comic relief, sunshine."
Buffy grinned. She loved it when he called her that.
"Are you the Gemel?" Fred reiterated. "I mean, really?"
"When we find out what that is, love, you'll be the first to know." Spike took his Slayer's hand and resumed walking.
~*[+]*~
The vampire cowered against the hard stone - stunned, devastated, and half-mad. His beautiful dark eyes were unfocused, not registering her presence or his surroundings.
"Angel, its me." She shuffled closer, keeping her movements slow and deliberate. "Its Cordy. Can you hear me?"
He let out a kind of whimper then and lowered his head onto his knees, refusing to look at her. "You saw it."
"Saw what?" He wasn't making sense, but at least he was talking to her. That had to be a good sign.
"The monster," Angel's voice was almost inaudible, catching painfully in his throat. Lord knew what all that snarling and growling had been doing to his vocal cords. "You saw what I really am."
Cordelia bit her lip. Oh man, this had really screwed him up. She rested her hand comfortingly against his forearm, only to have him yank it away.
"Don't," he rasped. "Don't touch me. You shouldn't have to..."
Cordy sat back on her heels. "Shouldn't have to what? Fondle the disgusting beast?" She snorted. "Apparently that's the whole purpose of my being here."
Angel blinked at her, not following her attempt at humor. "It - it is?"
She slapped his arm playfully. "Ha! You wish!" She gave him her brightest starlet smile, trying to pull him out of the severely neurotic state he was in.
He just blinked again, the slow quizzical motion followed by his familiar brooding frown. "You're ... not freaked."
"Hardly." Cordelia waved a hand dismissively. "But hey, if you'd turned into one of those D'vrontrak demons we ran into a couple of weeks ago then we might've had a problem."
"D'vron-?"
"-Trak. Remember? With the claws and the scabby complexion and the grossly offensive yellow-green goo?" She squirmed. "Yeesh! Gives me a wiggins just thinking about it."
Angel was completely bewildered, still reeling from the effects of being taken over by demon inside him. It had been disturbingly different from what he'd experienced before. It wasn't the same as being Angelus, vampire with no soul, although there were similarities in that he had no control over his bloodlust, and no regrets about the lives he had taken. Defending the helpless was one thing, but to tear someone apart like that, one piece at a time...
Now that he was Angel again, he could feel what he had done weighing him down. He was guilty of killing those guards, of slaughter, and he had done it with his soul intact. What did that mean? That the demon was stronger than his soul? Stronger than him?
"Hello?" Cordelia had leant in close and brought a hand up to his cheek in an almost maternal gesture. "Are you in there?"
"Yeah." He didn't want to be, but he was.
At least Cordy was with him.
~*[+]*~
Silas sat on the throne that had recently been vacated by the cow princess and allowed himself a moment to gloat. All was going as planned. The cow had been made princess because he had decreed it. He was the true power in Pylea, but the ruse was necessary to bring the Belial. And so it had. Though it was particularly ironic that he bore the name Angel.
Even so, the Gemel were to come next, lured by the Cursed One and her beast, but they would not live to see their Golden Age. They would die so that he may be ruler.
~*[+]*~
Wesley was beginning to despair that he would have an opportunity to escape before he lost his head. He had been moved from the staff to a makeshift set of stocks that were digging a roughly circular pattern of splinters into his neck. His hands were tied behind his back in a decidedly uncomfortable position and the rebel leader was even now sharpening his sword.
He was just clearing his throat to make one final verbal attempt at freedom when a group of men on horseback rode into the clearing.
Palace guards. Lovely. Could this get any worse?
An arrow thumped into the wood beside his head and he realized that the answer to that was a resounding 'yes'.
He lurched to his feet, bringing the stocks upright with him. They hung like a bizarre set of epaulets across his shoulders.
"Look," he said, pleased that he managed to maintain some semblance of calm, "I have no quarrel with you fine people..."
He was proven wrong when a guard came directly at him and he was forced to swing the stocks and knock him down. Another charged from behind and was given the same treatment. The rebel leader caught Wesley's eye and gave him an appreciative nod.
Now Wesley was actively fighting beside them.
~*[+]*~
Angel lay on his side in the straw. He had lapsed into a heavy exhausted slumber and Cordelia sat by his side, facing him, taking the opportunity to study him. It wasn't like she had anything else to do. It was either stare at the walls or stare at Angel. He proved to be the more interesting option.
A lot of people looked younger when they were asleep. And, to her surprise, Angel wasn't any different.
When he was awake, the two hundred odd years that he'd been around showed in his eyes, but like this he seemed vulnerable, almost fragile. The furrows lifted from his brow and the lines around his mouth softened, restoring some semblance of his perpetual youth. She wondered just how old he had been when Darla turned him.
She sighed and rested her chin on her hand, content to watch. It used to freak her out, seeing him sleep. He didn't move or breathe. He looked like an incredibly well preserved corpse. And hey, literal description!
Angel snorted softly, coming out of his death-like state for a moment to shift his position, one hand reaching out to search blindly amid the straw. He mumbled, drowsily incoherent, and Cordy grabbed hold of the questing hand.
The vampire stilled, his lips curving into a dreamy smile. He brought the hand to his face and nuzzled it, then pressed a kiss against the knuckles.
Cordy froze. Maybe he thought she was Buffy?
He murmured again, and this time she could make out what he said.
"Cordy."
Cordelia's mouth dropped open in shock. He said her name. He'd kissed her hand and he knew who she was! She continued to gape at him, stunned. He still had her hand, holding it pressed against his cheek as he drifted back into deep sleep, her golden skin contrasting with his paler complexion.
Jeez, Cor, get a grip! He's just connecting to someone familiar. It's not like he meant anything by it... Except what if he did?
This was Angel, the big goofy doofus. The big, gorgeous, loveable...
She extricated her hand, feeling strangely panicked. When had she started thinking of him as loveable? The last time that she'd let herself think of anyone as loveable she'd ended up in that doomed relationship with Xander Harris. She hadn't let anyone close since. It hurt too much.
And Angel? That would only lead to pain on a level that would eclipse the Xander days. She'd seen what he did to Buffy. Can we say 'perfect happiness' clause? That way lay creepy-stalker vamp Angel, de-invite spells and quite possibly the end of the world. Again.
There was no way that anything was going to happen here.
She wouldn't let it.