AN: The idea of complete sensory deprivation as torture comes from Anne
McCaffrey's The Ship Who Sang.
The idea of Angelus (the demon) torturing Angel (the soul) comes from a fan fiction. I can't remember the title or author. Willow tries to rescue Angel's soul from Hell, but the demon (Angelus) somehow gets the upper hand.
*************************************
Gone.
Angel wanted her to stay. He felt as though a fog was closing about his brain. When she had been with him everything had been easy, had made sense. But this hard floor, this darkness of night, they were closing in around him.
Words were failing him and he did not know what to do now. He was in no shape to even walk.
He growled, felt the animal inside of him rising to the surface. It was safe, reassuring. After all, this is how he had survived before she had found him.
The feral animal would protect his despairing psyche.
**************************************
Hope sensed the change in Angel even though she was halfway around the world. Yes, his soul would again have to be coaxed out of the beast protecting it. She sighed, wishing that she could have stayed with him. Ah, but wishing does not make it so. Besides, there's plenty to be done here.
She was striding down a corridor. The rich mahogany wainscoting, rich red color of the walls, and brass sconces practically screamed old money.
The heels of her black pumps clicked on the wood floor. She switched her black leather briefcase to the other hand. Glowing white raiment had been traded for an excellently tailored gray tweed suit. Her dark hair was pulled into a severe chignon at the back of her head.
Addressing the Watchers' Council required a certain level of formality, no matter who you were. Translation: tweed.
Hope stopped in front of a door. The door was unremarkable; there was no plate to announce its importance. She took a deep breath, gathering all her considerable patience to her, turned the brass knob, and stepped into the Council chamber.
**************************************
Liam looked up. A casual observer would think his pose indolent, leaning against the wall in one corner of the room. However, he was probably more alert than anyone else in the room. No, make that definitely.
He heard Hope take her deep breath before entering the room. Watched as the assembled Watchers turned their eyes to the opening door.
***************************************
They had all turned to look at her as she entered. Hope sighed a sigh that was audible to only one other person in the room. She glanced his way and saw a hint of a smile creep onto his face. At least someone who spent a considerable amount of time around the Council could keep his sense of humor. Yes, Liam and his indomitable good nature.
"Ladies and gentlemen," she began. "It has come to my attention that the next Slayer has been called. She has found her way to Sunnydale, California and will need a Watcher to guide her."
Murmurs of assent greeted her statement. The Council had already received the call from Rupert Giles, plans were in motion. Candidates had been selected, it was up to the one who had the Slayers in her care to make the final decision.
"Please bring the candidates in." Hope phrased it politely, but all the assembled knew it for what it was: a thinly veiled order.
A side door was opened and the three candidates filed in. Hope's attention immediately focused on the nervous young man on the right. Then, she swept her gaze across the other two.
"Wesley Windham-Price."
The idea of Angelus (the demon) torturing Angel (the soul) comes from a fan fiction. I can't remember the title or author. Willow tries to rescue Angel's soul from Hell, but the demon (Angelus) somehow gets the upper hand.
*************************************
Gone.
Angel wanted her to stay. He felt as though a fog was closing about his brain. When she had been with him everything had been easy, had made sense. But this hard floor, this darkness of night, they were closing in around him.
Words were failing him and he did not know what to do now. He was in no shape to even walk.
He growled, felt the animal inside of him rising to the surface. It was safe, reassuring. After all, this is how he had survived before she had found him.
The feral animal would protect his despairing psyche.
**************************************
Hope sensed the change in Angel even though she was halfway around the world. Yes, his soul would again have to be coaxed out of the beast protecting it. She sighed, wishing that she could have stayed with him. Ah, but wishing does not make it so. Besides, there's plenty to be done here.
She was striding down a corridor. The rich mahogany wainscoting, rich red color of the walls, and brass sconces practically screamed old money.
The heels of her black pumps clicked on the wood floor. She switched her black leather briefcase to the other hand. Glowing white raiment had been traded for an excellently tailored gray tweed suit. Her dark hair was pulled into a severe chignon at the back of her head.
Addressing the Watchers' Council required a certain level of formality, no matter who you were. Translation: tweed.
Hope stopped in front of a door. The door was unremarkable; there was no plate to announce its importance. She took a deep breath, gathering all her considerable patience to her, turned the brass knob, and stepped into the Council chamber.
**************************************
Liam looked up. A casual observer would think his pose indolent, leaning against the wall in one corner of the room. However, he was probably more alert than anyone else in the room. No, make that definitely.
He heard Hope take her deep breath before entering the room. Watched as the assembled Watchers turned their eyes to the opening door.
***************************************
They had all turned to look at her as she entered. Hope sighed a sigh that was audible to only one other person in the room. She glanced his way and saw a hint of a smile creep onto his face. At least someone who spent a considerable amount of time around the Council could keep his sense of humor. Yes, Liam and his indomitable good nature.
"Ladies and gentlemen," she began. "It has come to my attention that the next Slayer has been called. She has found her way to Sunnydale, California and will need a Watcher to guide her."
Murmurs of assent greeted her statement. The Council had already received the call from Rupert Giles, plans were in motion. Candidates had been selected, it was up to the one who had the Slayers in her care to make the final decision.
"Please bring the candidates in." Hope phrased it politely, but all the assembled knew it for what it was: a thinly veiled order.
A side door was opened and the three candidates filed in. Hope's attention immediately focused on the nervous young man on the right. Then, she swept her gaze across the other two.
"Wesley Windham-Price."
