TITLE:  Things Past

AUTHOR:  Eloise

RATING: PG13

DISCLAIMER: Joss and ME own Wes, and all things Angel. I'm only playing with them. I promise not to hurt them. Much.

NOTES: Chap 5 of 9. I feel so sad as I post tonight – and hope that all the fanfic writers out there in the Angelverse will continue the story that the wonderful Joss Whedon began. I quote Alexis Denisof when I say 'Long Live Wesley!' and indeed long may Angel the Series live in our hearts and imaginations.

Now onto chapter 5 – this has a kind of 'meanwhile back at the ranch' feel to it – but the pieces are almost in position and are almost ready to play… Thanks as always to my lovely Lonely Brit – she works hard for no money! This chapter contains a few references to my Christmas story 'The Very Best Time of the Year', but it doesn't really matter if you haven't read it. If you're interested, the 'heaven in hell's despair' line that Halfrek quotes from one of the prophecies comes from Blake's 'Songs of Experience', "The Clod and the Pebble" – and is a source of inspiration for this story.

Chapter title and quote from 'The Maid's Tragedy' by Francis Beaumont and John Fletcher.

Chapter 5: The Power to Hurt

'Those have most power to hurt us, that we love.'

'Bloody vengeance demon. Might have known.'

She bristled slightly, sat up a little straighter.

'I really do prefer justice demon, if you don't mind.'

He groaned softly and rolled onto his side. Obviously these important semantic distinctions did not matter much to the elf. Or whatever this newly mortal being was. She rested her hand gently on his back, where his wings should have been.

'Did it hurt?'

There was another muffled moan from him, and he struggled into a sitting position, rubbing his shoulder blades gingerly.

'What do you think? I was just made mortal. Every pain, every illness I experienced as an elf, suddenly magnified a thousand times. The magic ripped out of my body, my powers of healing removed. And you're wondering if it hurt.' He rolled his eyes in exasperation, but there was a resignation in his voice, an acceptance of his situation, that belied the angry words.

'I'm sorry. Stupid question, I know.'

He shrugged his shoulders, gave a small gasp of pain at the movement.

'No, it's okay.' He peered at her, his green eyes registering recognition. 'Hey. You never told me your name, last time we met.'

'Well, you were in a bit of a hurry. What with the getting hunted down by the Powers for illegal wish use. It's Halfrek.' She gave him a small smile, and was pleased to note that he attempted to return it. At least he wasn't still mad about the whole 'failing to help a child in pain' scenario.

'Halfrek. Not that I'm not glad to see you or anything, but what in heaven's name are you doing here? I know why I've been sent, but Nick didn't mention anything about a vengeance… sorry, justice demon.'

She stood up and walked over to the shop counter. Lifted the buff-coloured manila file and carried it over to where he slumped against the steps.

'The other day, when we bumped into each other in Files and Records? Well, some of your records got mixed up with my files.' She opened the folder and handed it to him.

'You know about the prophecies?' He looked around nervously, as if he expected to be overheard.

She pointed to the relevant page and nodded. He took the file from her and scanned the text, with a look of quiet resignation. After a moment he huffed out a soft sigh.

'I was really hoping this was all a delusion, brought on by too much Glenfiddich.' He closed the folder, and looked up, an unspoken question in his eyes.

'It's there in black and white. And red.'

They shared a look, and she knew he understood.

'Bloody prophecies.' he whispered, almost under his breath. So he knew she understood, too.

'So you're here to help me, then.' He paused, looked around uncertainly. 'And where exactly would here be?'

'Sunnydale. Magic Shop.'

'Oh.' He eyed her suspiciously. 'What spell were you planning on casting?"

'No. No magic, really. My friend manages the place. Just minding shop for her, while she picks up the pieces of her ruined life.'

He raised his eyebrows inquisitively.

'Oh, sweetie, don't get me started. I'll give you the cliff notes version. Vengeance demon made human for losing her power source. Fell for chunky human. Cute, but stupid.' She rolled her eyes.  'Cute but stupid asked her to marry him. She, being equally stupid, agreed. Hence, the horrendous outfit you now see before you.'

She gestured at the revolting bridesmaid's dress which, as she had suspected, had shrunk at least two sizes since she had last tried it on, and was now puckering terribly at the hips.

'He, being even more dense than her, had a panic attack and jilted her at the altar.'

She sighed deeply, having been through this with Anya earlier in the day. 'You know, it's not like I didn't warn her. I've always said these inter-species relationships never work. There's the age difference, for one thing. Nine hundred years is just too big a gap. Never mind the whole bigoted in-law thing he had going.'

She took in the look of glazed incomprehension on Norman's face and gave a little half-embarrassed shrug.

'Anyway, she went off to work through her issues,' she airquoted the word, 'and I promised to look after the shop while she had her mental breakdown.'

'You didn't know he was coming here, then?'

She bit the edge of her bottom lip, and considered the question. 'I didn't exactly know,' she said softly. 'Prophecies are always a bit vague when it comes to stuff like dates and places. But the heaven in hell's despair passage was a bit of a giveaway. So I thought I might stick around after the wedding, see if I could help.'

She paused, feeling a faint blush spread across her face. 'I feel bad, Norman. That I didn't help him when he was a child. I mean, that's what I do. My basic raison-d'etre. And I failed him.'

She felt a hand on her arm, and she lifted her head, almost afraid to look at him. But his face was kind.

'I failed him, too. My wish was cancelled out, he doesn't remember a thing.' He smiled sadly at her. 'The Powers were never going to let us mess with destiny.' He ran his finger along the edge of the file and the smile became a lop-sided grin. 'That's not to say we can't give destiny a helping hand…'

So, he had come to the same conclusions as her. 'You think we can do it?' She hardly dared to hope.

He nodded. 'We'll have to work together. As you can see,' he gestured to the centre of his back, 'my wings have been clipped. Permanently.'

'You need transportation?'

'You're the one with the wish magic. I'm just an ex-elf with a distinct lack of self-preservation.'

He winked conspiratorially at her, and then opened the prophecy.

'Now, I seem to remember you saying it's about time.'

*~*~*~*

'Bugger'

Norman rolled off his back, onto his side, and stifled a groan.

'Honestly, Halfrek, you couldn't have apparated me onto something soft?' he muttered under his breath.

He touched the spot between his shoulder blades gingerly and white hot spikes of pain shot through his spine, travelling along newly screaming nerve endings. He would probably need years of chiropractic therapy just to be able to sit straight again.

He looked around him, curious to see exactly where he had landed. And recognized the hotel lobby straight away. Certainly not as festive as the last time he'd been there. In fact, recent events had lent the place a certain post apocalyptic air, evidenced by the broken furniture, fissure cracks in the walls, and the dried blood which decorated the various surfaces.  But by far the most heartbreaking element of the whole tableau was the incongruous white cradle which lay empty in the outer office.

Norman began to struggle to his feet, only to be knocked off them violently as a dark and fairly solid form collided with him.

'Where the hell did you come from?' He recognized the voice from his previous visit, but there was a menacing quality to the tone which had not been present before. The vampire held him down easily, his large hand clamped tight around his throat without any apparent effort. He struggled a little, wondering if Angel would recognize him before he passed out.

Apparently so. The grip eased, but the vampire's hand remained at his neck. 'So you're in on it too.' The ice in the vampire's voice sent chills down his already aching spine.

'Not the way you think, Angel.' He felt a finger press hard against his jugular, and swallowed painfully. 'I know what he did.'

'Don't lie to me, elf!' he spat through gritted teeth. 'You helped him before, why should I believe you now?'

Norman kept his voice very low and steady, suddenly acutely aware of his new mortality. 'I tried to warn him about the prophecy. Saw it in the boss' office by accident and left him a note.' For a second he thought of the Christmas card he'd written, and a wave of profound and heartfelt regret hit him. If only…

The vampire had loosened his grip and was sitting back now, on his knees, a look of utter confusion on his face. And the feeling of regret deepened.

Norman had worried so much about the effect of these events on Wesley and Connor, but to be honest, he hadn't really considered how the vampire would be affected.

The man looked lost. Beneath the anger, rage and hatred was a devastated bewilderment. Here was a man whose best friend had stolen his child. With no explanation, no excuse, no reason. To lose a child was terrible enough, but to have a friend be the architect of your grief; that must have come close to destroying him.

'I'm sorry. I wish I could have stopped him.' He saw something flicker in Angel's eyes; recognition, or realization.

'You! You could help me. You know the prophecy's false – they tricked him into believing I would kill Connor… and I would never, never…' his voice cracked, and Norman felt a tightness in his own chest.

'If I wished… you could help me…' He was pleading now, all anger gone from him, his palms open in supplication.

'I can't, Angel. The Powers found out about my warning, and made me mortal.' He half-turned to demonstrate his human form. 'No wings, no invisibility and no wish magic.'

'Then why? Why are you here?' Angel was almost yelling in frustration.

'Didn't say I couldn't help. I've been watching him, and I've a fairly good idea of where he's headed.'

The hand was at his throat instantly.

'Tell me.'

Norman placed his hand around the other's wrist and fixed him with a stern but compassionate look.

'That's why I'm here, Angel. I'm here to take you to Wesley and Connor.'

*~*~*~*

He wasn't going to risk going to her again. When he had worked with her the last time, he had the distinct impression that he was being played. Not the way he liked things at all. If he was going to trick anyone into making him corporeal, it certainly wouldn't be Ms. Lilah Morgan. No, he had a far more susceptible employee of Wolfram and Hart in mind. He shimmered into existence in the office and waited for the man to notice.

Gavin Park looked up from his desk with a confident smirk.

'Sahjhan, I presume?'

'Gavin Park. I see your boss informed you of my existence.'

Immediately the supercilious grin vanished. 'Lilah Morgan is my associate, not my boss.

This was going to be so easy. The man's ambition was so naked it was almost obscene.

'Associate, right.' He nodded, in what he hoped was a condescending way, carefully calculated to piss the lawyer off.  From the look on Park's face, he guessed that he had succeeded.

'So what are you doing here? I thought you were part of Lilah's pet project?'

'Well, things aren't working out as well as I'd hoped there.' He could actually see the man's ears prick up, the touch of smugness return to his upturned lips. 'Course, I realize now I went to the wrong person. She only got promoted because the other guy split. Should have figured she wasn't up to the job.'

'I could have told you that.'

'I should have chosen someone who had inside knowledge, who knows how to gather information.' He smiled as Park sat up straight in his chair, his chest puffed up with pride.

'I've been watching you. You're very skilled at your job. That whole surveillance thing at the hotel was a masterstroke.'

Park toyed with a pen in a pathetic attempt at self-importance.

'Yes, I have to admit, I've always been an expert when it comes to surveillance. I was the one who suggested we continue to watch Holtz, after the child's abduction.'

This was new. Perhaps the man wasn't altogether useless.

'Should have guessed. A man of your calibre…' he stroked the ego carefully.

'Yes, he's on his way to Sunnydale now. As is Angel.'

Information just dribbled from the man's incontinent lips. Didn't even have to break fingers.

'Wolfram and Hart send a retrieval team?'

Park shook his head importantly.

The Senior Partners…' he stopped and corrected himself, 'We feel that case is no longer under our jurisdiction now.'

'Seems to me a guy like yourself should be showing a bit more initiative.'

Park drew himself to his full and not very impressive height, and gave an indignant cough.

'What do you mean?'

'Well, I was just thinking that maybe someone should be going to Sunnydale to collect the child. You know, bring him back under Wolfram and Hart's jurisdiction.' He echoed the other's word. 'I'd do it myself, only – non corporeal, you see. Intangible. As in not able to touch.'

And now he could see the cogs beginning to turn in the other man's brain. Could positively hear the gears grinding. '

My guess is, the Senor Partners would be mighty impressed with an employee who demonstrated such ingenuity. Might just show Ms. Morgan a thing or two about her Special Project.'

Park's mouth was half open, as he threw his line and hooked him.

'You'd have to be circumspect, of course. Wouldn't do for you to be personally involved. I'd like to help you; really I would, but again with the incorporeality factor.' He gave an apologetic shrug, and faded out obligingly.

'Wait!'

He reappeared, relishing the desperate greed in the man's eyes.

'If I –' he lowered his voice '- if I arrange to have you made corporeal, you'd do that? Bring the baby back here?'

'Sure, totally not a problem.' He gave him his most sincere fake smile. 'Anything I can do to help…'

Oh, this was way too easy…

*~*~*~*

She was no longer fading in and out of consciousness so much; that had to be a good thing. Lorne had managed to persuade her to sing, although the sound she had produced bore more resemblance to a keening wail than an actual song.

The demon's red eyes grew bright as the cracked lips shaped the words of the spiritual. Gunn recognized the tune. One his mother had sung to them as a lullaby, when Alonna had been little enough to fit in the crook of her elbow.

Her voice faltered and she stopped, closing her bruised eyes. Lorne reached over and touched her cheek, very gently.

'She should rest now.'

He looked up at them, and Gunn wasn't sure he was going to like what the empath demon had read in her. He liked the idea of Holtz and his followers as the enemy; he didn't want the whole issue clouded with shades of grey.

'She's lost so much.  Her sister was killed by a vampire, that's why she joined him. To try to fill up the missing part of herself.'

He did not want to hear that. Too close, too raw, a pain that did not fade. Images of his baby sister, her face twisted in a demon visage, came unbidden to his mind, and he closed his eyes tight against them. He didn't want to understand, didn't want to empathize.

Lorne stayed beside the girl, his gaze travelling to the newly bandaged hand and splinted fingers. Fred was getting as good as Cordy at this, he mused, rather disturbed by the thought.

'Wesley did this.'

It was not a question. Lorne looked shell-shocked, as if he still couldn't quite believe that the Englishman was capable of this kind of brutality, even after the battering he had received at Wesley's hands. Gunn understood. It saddened him to think that his friend had done this, but he was not surprised. And not just because of the whole Billy thing. He had seen it in Wes, the willingness to do what was necessary, no matter what the cost.

'Wesley is a good man…'

A guy you can rely on in a tight spot, a guy who always comes through...

He thought of a small scared seven year old; of scarred hands and bruised arms, evidence of lessons that had clearly been learned through pain. Gunn could imagine the rhetoric the bastard had used to excuse the harsh treatment of his son – done to toughen him up, done for his own good. The child might have grown up, but he had learned the lesson well. He had done what needed to be done.  Done it for the greater good.

Fred's fingers fluttered on his shoulder, and he turned to meet her worried gaze.

'Charles, I think we should get her somewhere… safe.'

She was carefully not saying what she was thinking. What he was thinking. Somewhere away from Angel.

Lorne looked over at them. 'Gotta say I'm with Fredikins on this one. I'm getting that a future featuring Angel will not be a shiny happy place for her.' He nodded in Justine's direction.

Gunn nodded grimly, wondering if this day could possibly get any worse. Angel had been tricked into almost feeding from his own child; Wesley had been going behind their backs to the enemy, and had stolen the kid; and both of them had basically tortured an already injured woman. The fact that his two best friends were now mortal enemies was just the icing on the cake.

He bent down over the couch and slipped his arms under Justine's body, hefting her easily against his chest, being careful not to touch the bandaged hand.

'Okay, then, any ideas on where the hell we go now?'

*~*~*~*

Oh it was good to be able to feel again. He had missed that so much, the feel of cool metal sinking through soft flesh, the delicious heat of warm blood dripping onto his skin. The wonderfully satisfying crunch of sinews, muscles and bones as he wrenched the man's head to one side, the lifeless body slithering to the floor like a rag doll.

Oh, the first kill was always a good one. And it had been even more fun when the lawyer had finally figured out that he had been played. The look of utter disbelief, turning to horror, and then glorious primeval fear. Like a drug.

Sahjhan stepped out in front of the truck as it slowed at the lights, and there was a screech of brakes. He really should have thanked Parks for this. Abject terror had loosened his lips even further, and he had revealed not only the whereabouts of Holtz's little protégé, but also the rest of Angel's merry little band of do-gooders.

Never hurt to have a hostage or two around, to improve negotiations. He opened the passenger door and climbed into the truck, folding his arm around the neck of the stick thin human female. Wouldn't take much to snap her in two, he thought, taking care not to squeeze too hard, just yet.

'Well, isn't this just so cosy. Sworn enemies thrown together in the face of apocalyptic evil. Sort of like a supernatural 'Another 48 hours'.

The large black man swung his fist hard, and he deflected the blow easily, responding with a punch that cracked the man's head against the side window.

Sahjhan leaned back against the headrest and grinned, caressing the female human's throat delicately.

'So. Anybody up for a big family reunion?'

His question was met with various looks of fear and loathing.

'Oh, and in case you were wondering – the apocalyptic evil? That would be me.'