~*[+]*~
EPISODE TEN
Magic Words

Silas had dragged Cordelia through a twisting network of tunnels and secret passages, those cobwebby ones that all creepy castles apparently came outfitted with, and had somehow arrived back in the throne room. He shoved her roughly to the ground and paced in front of the royal seat.

"Jeez, what's with all the princess shoving? " Cordy complained, standing up and awkwardly brushing off her skirts with her still-bound hands. "You evil guys are the worst. And you should tell people about those tunnels, okay? 'Cause the whole sewer escape deal could have turned out so much better."

"Shut your mouth!"

The priest was panicking. He had severely underestimated the Gemel's strength. They should not have gotten this far. They shouldn't be here at all. Mythical beings had no business manifesting in real life. Especially when it interfered with his plan for total power.

Cordy gave him a haughty 'how-dare-you?' look. "Angel is so gonna to kick your robed butt," she informed him. "And I'm so gonna help."

"The Belial will be powerless against me." He pulled his sleeve back to reveal an over-sized dial strapped watch-like to his forearm. "And the Gemel will never have their Golden Age." He twisted the raised knob clockwise, and then flipped a toggle switch on its side. A little red light flickered to life, emitting a subtle pulsating glow.

"Oh, so it's the old 'trick up the sleeve' trick is it?" Cordelia stared at the gadget, trying to figure out what it was for exactly. The glowing thing was eerily reminiscent of the crimson-tipped instruments they'd tested her with before making her the princess. "I have a bad feeling about this..."

Silas gave her what apparently passed for a smile in his limited emotional range. The effect was sickening. "Bad feelings aside, Majesty, you should be pleased that your slave collar is no longer around your neck."

"Oh." Her hand went to her throat of its own accord, a quick succession of memories flashing through her head. The silver collar that zapped her whenever she tried to escape, similar to the other slaves in the village. That girl who'd tried to help her had one too, even if it was defective. She swallowed in sudden understanding. "That's a remote control destructo thingy isn't it? For exploding the heads off cows."

Silas' smile widened. A gruesome twisting of his thin lips that vaguely reminded her of skin splitting open on a rotten piece of fruit. She shuddered, grossed out by her own comparison.

"It works in tandem with a hidden base unit," he informed her, quite happy to gloat. "It can send a signal strong enough to eradicate every slave within this province." He took a step toward her, intrigued in spite of himself. "You're smart for a cow. In other circumstances, I would have you properly trained."

"To do what?" she asked sarcastically. "Sit at your feet and worship your robey goodness? Spare me."

A muscle ticked at the corner of one eye and he let go a vicious backhand across her face. Cordelia didn't give him the satisfaction of crying out.

~*[+]*~

Angel slammed on the brakes mid-tunnel, coming to an abrupt halt and raising tentative fingers to his cheek.

Spike and Buffy almost ran into him.

"Your vision chippie's that way, you great lumbering git," Spike said, pointing ahead into the darkness. "All set to be rescued. What're you standin' about here for?"

"It's weird, but I just..." The older vampire set bewildered eyes on his Childe. "He's hurting her. I can feel it."

Buffy squinted up into his face, trying to make out his dimly lit features. "Like a link?"

"No. Not like yours at least. I can't tell what she's thinking or feeling. I can't explain it. It's..." He frowned, mouth twisting in an indecisive grimace. "It's just different."

Spike made a dramatic show of exhaling and stared at his Sire impatiently. "Reckon you can track her that way?"

"I don't have to track her," Angel replied.

He set off again and the Gemel watched him disappear into the shadows.

"I don't want them to have a link," Buffy hissed at her partner. "That's our thing."

"Yeah." Spike looked disgusted. "Sort of cheapens all that ordained business, dunnit?"

Buffy sulked for a second, then nudged him with her elbow and grinned wickedly. "It's okay," she said. "We're still one up. You can't get Nipper-fied when one of you is happy-proof."

Spike ducked his head, amused by her creative wording, then frowned and peered into a side tunnel. "What's that noise?"

Buffy frowned right along with him, her forehead wrinkled in concentration as she tapped into his superior auditory capabilities. "That whiny-whistley EEEEEP noise?"

"Hmm." The blonde vamp took a few steps into the partially hidden opening. "'S bloody annoying. Bloke can't hear himself think."

Buffy gaped in disbelief. "Hello? Badly distracted boy? Shouldn't we be following Angel?"

"Give us half a mo'. I just wanna shut this thing up before it shatters our eardrums."

He wandered off into the underground passage and vanished from sight. Buffy reluctantly followed, mumbling curses at him under her breath.

An odd reddish luminescence led them to a cavern with a laughably huge machine installed along one wall. It was crudely constructed, like one of those room-sized computer prototypes, and had an impressive array of egg-shaped bulbs decorating its cumbersome frame. They were gradually lighting up, one by one, generating the colorful radiance and offensive subsonic whistle.

"Why do I have the sudden urge to wave my arms and shout 'Danger, Will Robinson, danger'?" Buffy asked. She shook her head. "Talk about your lack of high-techiness."

Spike narrowed his eyes at the outlandish contraption as though he was trying to see its insides. "Haven't seen anythin' this kitsch since Harris forced me to watch Star Trek that one time."

"Oh sure, like Xander could force you to do anything."

"Well, okay. You've got me there. I'm a closet Trekkie."

They stared at the machine for a moment, silently watching the display, until the vampire spotted something odd. He ambled across to a dust-covered control panel.

"Seems some wanker's just activated this behemoth," he said, running his fingers along the surface. He tapped a domed button. "There's a signal comin' in. Got to be what's causin' the advance of the light parade over there. Can't be a good thing."

He thumped an experimental fist against the smooth metal. When it dented impressively under the impact, he shot a Big Bad grin at Buffy, teeth flashing whitely in the alcove's comparative gloom. "What d'ya say, sunshine? Wanna make all the pretty lights go smash?"

~*[+]*~

Ten fun-filled minutes later they finally reached the antechamber of the throne room.

Angel was still outside the immense wooden doors. He stood rigidly, muscles straining against some invisible barrier. It looked like he was poised between holding himself back and pounding the doors into splinters.

Spike took stock of the situation and exchanged a pointed look with the Slayer.

His Sire hadn't been all that discerning about his victims as he had made his way through the castle. Several guards lay scattered around him, all in various states of impairment, and one of the rebel soldiers was attempting to crawl away down the far corridor. It was the small redhead that Wesley had been calling Doubting Thomas. One of his arms hung limply by his side, either broken or dislocated. Angel had obviously realized his mistake too late to stop.

"Did you do that?" Buffy demanded.

Angel didn't even acknowledge the question. He kept his eyes on the door, almost as though he was trying to bore through using the strength of his gaze alone.

Spike was quite amused about the state of affairs. "Been on a rampage have you, Dad?"

The older vampire sent him a withering glance over his shoulder. "Shut up, Spike."

"Ooh, that's nasty. Haven't heard that one before."

"Shut up, Spike," Buffy snapped. He quirked an eyebrow at her but complied without any further protest. "What's the hold up?" she inquired, approaching Angel tentatively. "She's right behind those doors. All you have to do is break them down and kill the bad guy."

Angel thrust his hands into his pockets and hunched his shoulders. "That's not going to happen."

"Oh, let yourself go, for God's sake!" Spike exclaimed. "Unload some Belial on his Unholy Trembliness."

"I can't." Angel shook his head. "You don't get it, Spike. The thing that comes out here is ten times worse than back home. If I change again, I don't think..." He paused, struggling with himself. "I won't come back from it."

The younger vampire snorted. "Yeah, you will." He stuck out his chin and regarded his Sire with casual acuity. "Way I see it, you're the same as me - a man with a demon inside. It's not the other way around. You've got a strong soul, you're all goody-good and righteous, and what's more, you're in love. Concentrate on that and you'll pop right back, no worries."

Angel stared at his Childe with some astonishment, his jaw dropping slightly. "I really don't know you at all, do I?" he asked after a moment.

Spike smirked. "Your loss," he said. "Serves you right for prancing off on your own for ninety odd years." He pointed at the throne room doors. "Now get in there and do your 'Prince Charming to the rescue' bit so we can go home already."

"And once more, with tact," Buffy interjected.

Her partner gave her a lewd grin, tongue held between his front teeth. "Ah, but you don't love me for my tact, do you?"

Angel gave him a disgusted look. "Okay, I'm going in," he said, moving up to one of the doors and resting his hands flat against its surface. "If only to get away from Perverted Boy."

""Ere, who're you callin' perverted?" Spike demanded, offended by the suggestion. "You're the sodding king of torture..." He began to trail after his Sire but the cold-blooded mask of Angel's face stopped him in his tracks.

"No, you guys wait here," he told them, his eyes coal black and gleaming with deadly intent. "I'll right back, I promise."

Both Buffy and Spike shuddered at the insidiously smooth tone of his voice. Shades of Angelus there, and bad, bad memories. They instinctively moved closer together, vampire pulling Slayer into a protective embrace. They held a collective breath as with one seemingly effortless shove, Angel splintered the doors.

"Don't see why he didn't do that in the first place," Spike muttered. "I said it before, all hat no cattle."

Buffy sighed into his shirtfront. "Yeah, well I think his cattle just stampeded."

~*[+]*~

Cordelia managed to find some sort of shelter behind the throne and huddled there with her back pressed into the plush upholstery, working fitfully to untie her hands. The ropes had come loose and it was just a matter of manipulating them enough to slip out.

Silas had thrown a tantrum when the little red light on his Mickey Mouse watch had gone kaplooey. She guessed that meant that the heads of Pylea's cow population wouldn't be doing the same. At last, something positive.

Speaking of positive, there was a real strong certainty that Angel was nearby. She had that creepy, hair-standing-up-on-the-back-of-your-neck feeling that she got whenever he was in the room, but now there was a kind of comfort in it - a warmth. Which was totally inappropriate seeing as how he didn't generate any body heat of his own.

A loud cracking noise behind her, the throne room doors shattering inward, and suddenly, there he was. She didn't even have to look, she just knew.

"Took you long enough!" she called out, dumping what remained of her bonds onto the floor. Free at last! "What'd you do, take the scenic route?"

Her only answer was a frantic tug at her hair as Silas hauled her to her feet. She slapped at his hands. "Ow, ow ... Hey, get off!"

She attempted to turn around, but with her head held rigidly in the priest's grasp, she could only make out a dark blur from the corner of her eye. "Angel?" And then the room seemed to implode as an all too familiar vision onrush sent her reeling.

Cordy screamed as it hit - her cry of pain echoed by a deeper, animalistic roar as Angel lost his hard-won control.

Silas struggled to keep his grip as the cow princess crumpled to the ground like a marionette with its strings cut, but he had no chance to run before the Belial was on him, claws tearing through his ceremonial robes to shred his flesh. The scream that was building in his throat died there, never to be released, as a flex of fiendish muscle liberated the priest's head from his body.

He carried it like a trophy to Cordelia's side and crouched down. He nudged her unconscious form with a surprisingly gentle finger and whimpered, distressed by her condition.

The Gemel hovered in the doorway, tense and wary, having witnessed the entire attack.

"Think he's gonna turn on us?" Buffy asked, using their link.

"Possible," Spike replied, edging further into the room. "He's workin' entirely on instinct right now. His mate is injured and we're poachin' on his territory."

"God, how caveman is that?"

"Not caveman, love. Demon. I'd likely be the same in his place. Be much better lookin' o' course, but still..." Spike crept around to one side, keeping an eye on the motionless couple. He only made it a few feet in when the Belial whirled, snarling.

"Whoa," Spike raised his hands, palms open. "Take it easy. Not after your woman. Got one of my own, you know." He diverted his gaze, not looking Angel directly in the eye. He needed to be the submissive one here. "Peaches? You still in there?"

Buffy came forward, her trepidation revealed only by the protective spread of her hands over her stomach. "Angel, come on. You've got to come back to us."

He howled, a positively inhuman sound that was pained but no less threatening for it, and threw Silas' severed head at her. An arc of viscous purplish liquid flew out and splattered down the front of her shirt.

"Oh, ewww..." Buffy backed away again, much to Spike's amusement.

"It's only demon sludge. You've done worse to yourself."

"Glad you think this is so funny."

"Don't much. Just nervous tension, I s'pose."

She snorted. "Yeah, right."

Angel began prowling toward them, fangs bared.

Spike decided to try a different tack. "Liam, lad, where's that famed Irish backbone? I thought you were stronger than this."

"What are you doing?" Buffy hissed. Odd how she could do that inside his head.

"Speakin' to the soul," he sent back. "Shush up and let me work." He gestured at the splintered doors. "Better yet, go. Keep the Nip well outta the way."

She gnawed at her lower lip, her eyes riveted to the menacing beast that used to be Angel. It felt weird being scared of him. Even when he was Angelus, she'd never actually been scared. "I'm not leaving you here. Not when he's like this."

"Buff - " Spike dodged at the last minute as Angel swiped at him, claws whisking by in front of his chin. "Oi, watch the face!" He bobbed back, poised on the balls of his feet like a prizefighter.

Buffy figured that if he was being all vanity-conscious in the middle of a crisis, then there was no reason for her to be so concerned. She spotted a small movement in the corner of her eye and cued Spike in via the link. Cordelia was waking up.

He nodded. His own gaze was still trained on the mutated form of his Sire, but he'd received his partner's message loud and clear. Now, if he could just keep Angel occupied long enough...

Unfortunately, Buffy decided to go to Cordy's aid herself, drawing Angel's somewhat irrational focus. He grunted at Spike, dismissing him, and went after the Slayer.

She sensed the shift, as well as her partner's link-based warning, and spun to face him as he pounced, morphing into protective mode mid-turn. She grabbed him by the shirt, eyes flaring golden and her own fangs bared, and tossed him halfway across the room. He rebounded with amazing speed, only to be knocked back again as she unleashed a flurry of punches.

Spike barely glanced at them as the fight disintegrated into an equally matched scuffle, both of them snapping and snarling, and hurried to help Cordelia while he had the chance. "You right, love?"

She peered up at him, eyes narrowed against the residual pain from her vision, gradually becoming aware of her surroundings. "Huh?"

The blonde vampire grinned suddenly. "All cognitive powers up to proper speed I see," he wisecracked. "Loves you for your brain, does he?"

She scowled then. "Shut up, Spike."

His grin deepened, dimples creasing his lean cheeks. "Ought to have changed my name to that, eh? Rather than the other poncey bloody one."

She shook her head, bewildered. "What are you talking about, you Cockney freak? Where's -?" Cordelia's voice trailed off as she gaped at the demonic pair fighting nearby. "Oh my God."

"Pretty awe-inspirin' innit?" Spike cupped her elbow and hauled her upright, scrutinizing the contest with a critical eye. "You're dippin' your shoulder again, sunshine," he called. "Switch to the left."

Cordelia took a shuffling step forward, transfixed by the Belial. "He was so afraid of this happening," she murmured.

"Really?" Spike watched her face intently. Oh yeah, she was head over teakettle, this one. "Always was a bit of a nance..."

"Hey!" Cordelia defended, then paused. "Wait, what's a nance?"

"Short for Nancy boy. You know, someone who's a bit light in the loafers."

She was ignoring him again by now, staring at the ongoing battle across the room. "He's not gonna come back on his own this time. Is he?"

Spike sighed and was about to launch into a weighty exposition about love and the demon, but was distracted by Buffy's cry of pain and a stinging sensation across his midsection.

"Bloody hell," he wheezed, teeth clenched, already seeking the whereabouts of his partner.

The Belial had cornered the Slayer. She reverted back to human form and cowered away from him, her fragile hold on Spike's demon completely lost. There was a gaping slash along the front of her shirt, a dark crimson spill of blood staining its frayed edges.

"Buffy!"

Spike was across the room before Cordelia could even register the movement. He seized Angel by the shoulders and threw him backward, away from his partner. He didn't bother to watch where the beast landed and scooped her into his arms.

"Did he hurt you, baby?" he asked, cradling her against his chest and brushing her hair out of her eyes. The endearment brought him up short. "God, the baby?"

"He's okay," Buffy reassured him. "I'm okay, too. It's only a scratch really." She peered past the vampire and cringed. "Uh, Spike?"

"Yeah?" Her meaning registered at the exact same moment as he uttered the question. "Oh." He pivoted slightly to peek at the looming figure of the Belial from the corner of his eye.

He lifted his chin in a defiant pose, but it dipped again when he saw that Cordelia was moving closer to their little stand off. He hugged Buffy tighter. This could get rather ... unpleasant.

"Hey Fang Boy, wanna take the princess back to your castle?" There was no hint of anxiety in Cordelia's voice, not even a quiver. And she was speaking as though they were the only two people in the room.

The Belial regarded her quizzically, then seemed to realize exactly who she was and that she was no longer incapacitated. He abandoned the dumbstruck Gemel and scampered over to kneel at her feet like some kind of bizarre pet.

Still showing no outward signs of fear, Cordy embraced him lightly, resting her arms on his shoulders, and began to stroke his hair with soothing fingers. He butted his head against her abdomen, the bony protrusions of his brow leaving tiny scratches on her bare skin. She didn't even flinch.

"I had a vision," she informed him. "It was good. Still unbelievably head-splittingly painful, but good." A rueful smile curved her lips. "Those are kind of on the rare side, huh?"

Angel let out a crackling semi-growl in reply, almost a purr, and his muscles lost some of their cramped-up tension. Cordy's touch was clearly calming him. Buffy and Spike exchanged relieved glances.

The blonde vampire got to his feet, still holding the Slayer in his arms. "Blah, blah, blah," he muttered under his breath. "Scrap the witless repartee and get to the bleedin' point."

Buffy let out a strangled giggle. It hurt when she laughed.

"The powers have given us a future, Angel," Cordelia continued softly, either not hearing or ignoring them completely. "A future together. I saw it." She drew one finger down his cheek and nudged it under his chin until he was looking up at her. "Come back," she whispered. "Please. You have to come back."

Angel's arms came up to loop around her waist but he still didn't revert back to human form. Cordelia nibbled worriedly at her lip. Why wasn't this working?

"Tell him, you dozy bint," Spike burst out, losing his patience altogether. "Say the magic words."

"Magic -?" Cordy frowned, replaying her speech over in her head. "God, how dumb am I?"

"I'm not even gonna try to answer that," Buffy sniped. This time Spike stifled a laugh.

Cordelia gave them a censuring look, channeling her inner bitch, but it only made them glare back. She sighed. She'd lost her touch since Sunnydale. Not that the Queen C routine had ever been that effective on either of them.

She slowly sank to her knees so that she and Angel were eye to eye, then brought both hands up to cradle his face and pressed a soft kiss to his ridged forehead. "I love you, Angel. All of you - man and demon."

She hesitated for a second, indecisive, but then gave him a hearty whack in the chest - hard enough to set him off balance. "But get over this stupid beast thing already!"

There was a tense moment as the Belial rumbled ominously, but then his eyes shifted, returning to their familiar dark brown shade. A second later, the demonic ridges flattened under his skin and he was Angel again. He crumpled against her shoulder, exhausted and apologetic.

"I'm sorry," he rasped, his voice thick and tearful. "I'm so sorry."

"Okay." Cordy smiled cheerfully and patted his back. "Can we get up?" she asked. "You're kinda heavy. Plus, you know, stone floors? Not great on the knees."

Angel laughed. Just the reaction she'd been hoping for.

He raised his head to stare into her eyes. "I love you."

"Right back at'cha, big guy."

"How sweet," Spike broke in. "So bloody sweet I may throw up. And that's no idle threat in our current condition." He indicated Buffy with a jerk of his chin. She burrowed into his shoulder, tired and pale. "Can we go? Got a Slayer needs mending."

A/N: Okay, peeps, we're on the home stretch. One more chapter, maybe two, and then I'm free to concentrate on the third installment. ['True Colors' - already underway. Go. Read. Enjoy. REVIEW!)
In addition to this episode, I also went back and fixed the continuity glitches at the end of Ep. 9. It's a real fine line between getting it right and hurrying to get new chapters out, huh? - Cheers, Dee.