After The Storm
Chapter 4
By Vixen
When Angel awoke, he found himself in a cage the size of a small jail cell, along with Spike and Illyria. The blue goddess has already awoken. She stood, motionless peering out through the slots with unblinking eyes. She was waiting, watching, getting ready to make her move. Angel groaned, feeling the after effects of the electricity that had shot through him. It must have been a pretty high voltage, he assumed by the size of the headache he now had. He looked over towards Spike; the younger vampire was still sleeping, but Angel was sure he'd be up soon enough and bothering the hell out of him again. Then he sat up a little straighter, realizing what was missing from this scene, "Gunn. Where's Gunn?"
Illyria didn't look at him when she responded to his question. She continued to stand vigil, holding her anger just under the surface. In a steady voice she replied, "They have taken him."
"They? They who?" Angel rose to his feet. The ground seemed to be moving slightly, but he presumed that was just the side effect of the nausea that had been caused by the attack. Gripping the wall, he willed himself not to fall over again. The day was just getting worse as it went on. He noticed his rain soaked jacket had since dried, and began to wonder just how long they had been knocked out.
"The people here," Illyria answered him again, "I do not think they want to harm us, but I do not appreciate being locked away like an animal. When I was a divinity insignificant creatures such as them worshipped at my feet. My dominance was not taken lightly. My might was unmatched. Now they presume to fasten their restraint on me, to possess me and.."
"Are you quite finished yet?" Spike grumbled as he started to wake up. He pushed himself into a seated position and leaned against the wall, getting as comfortable as he could in the new prison that held him.
Angel sighed and rolled his eyes slightly. First he had to put up with Illyria ranting on about the good ol' days of godhood, and now Spike was up to make his life even more miserable. Where was a stake when he needed one? Though at the moment he didn't know if he'd rather stake Spike or himself. The day was definitely not getting better. He walked over towards the padlocked door of the cell; reaching his hand through the bars he made a grab for the lock. While Spike and Illyria continued to bicker between themselves, he focused on trying to rip the lock apart, hoping his vampire strength would be enough to break it open. He gave it a few good hard tugs, but it was no use. The thing was unbreakable, solidly holding them in the small cell until whoever had put them there came back.
Spike was really getting into it with the shell now, turning his annoyance at being captured into verbal rivalry. Illyria was retailing in turn, picking him up by his shirt and just holding him in the air. She stared at him curiously while continued to mouth off to her, "Listen, Bluebird, you need to go get—"
Angel turned his attention back to the two of them, crossing his arms and leaning against the cell's door, "Spike, why don't you make this situation better and just don't talk. Again. Ever."
Illyria dropped the vampire, a small grin crossing her face before she walked to the other side of the cell. If she could feel human emotions, or admit to feeling them, the one she was experiencing at the moment was smug happiness at being the victor of the sparring match.
Spike picked himself up off the floor and stomped over to the taller vampire, he smirked at him defiantly, "You're not the leader anymore, remember? Can't tell me what to do now."
Angel growled low in his throat, remembering full well. He didn't want to be the one in charge anymore, but if that meant Spike was now the leader he figured he'd regret making that choice sooner or later. Choosing another tactic, Angel explained in as calm a voice as he could muster in the present situation, "Look, we've already lost members of our group, we've been captured, we still don't know what we're up against, and I think we should use our resources to try to figure a way out of here instead of fighting each other."
Spike continued to glare at Angel for a little while longer, before he sighed and nodded, "Right. Suss out a plan, get out of here," he went over the to-do list in his head, before pointing toward Illyria, "Then you and me are going to have a rematch."
"I look forward to it vampire," She said coldly. She always did enjoy sparring with the half-breed. It was fun to make him bleed or kick him across the room and watch him bounce across the floor. Strangely, he seemed to enjoy their matches just as much.
There was a noise of footsteps coming closer to the cell. Two pair of them. Angel looked out the cell bars, into the rocky cavernous hallway. He was certain the cell was in a cave, but the walkway was too dark to make out much. The footsteps came closer, and he began to pick up Gunn's familiar scent, and another unfamiliar one. They came closer until they stood in front of the cell.
"Gunn. Are you okay?" Angel asked, the other man looked to be unharmed; he even seemed a bit more relaxed then he had been before. He was wearing a new shirt, this one clean and unstained with blood. Still, despite all the reassuring sights, Angel wasn't going to be convinced so quickly when they were still being held captive.
"Great, really," Gunn nodded; lifting up his shirt he showed a new bandage over his wound. "They just fixed me up is all. Fiyara nursed my sick ass back to health," he gestured to the young woman. She had blond wavy hair and a small bindi tattoo between her eyes. By all outward appearances, she was just an ordinary human. She carried a tray of food with her, complete with some bowl full of green liquid that smelt like blood. Angel's mouth watered, it had been a while since he'd last fed. Gunn's voice brought his attention back to the present, "Should warn you though, there's a catch."
"You were found on our land," Fiyara spoke in a distant accent, "The slogs- "
"Those are the big demon-y types we fought," Gunn butt in, filling in all the gaps for his friends.
"Yes," Fiyara nodded to him and continued, "They had apparently beaten you badly. My tribe decided to help your friend out, he was in the worst shape of all. He almost died through loss of blood." She unlocked the door, "But there are those who still don't trust you. You are outsiders, and were not welcomed on our land." She narrowed her eyes, her voice now held a tone of irritation, "We still don't know what to do with you, so we've decided to keep you here until a consensus can be reached among us."
Gunn walked into the cell, complacent with the woman's wishes. Somehow, despite being held as a prisoner, she had earned his trust. Angel caulked it up to them saving his life. He looked at the woman, as she brought in the tray of food and laid it on the floor for the four of them. "We could just leave quietly on our own, we didn't mean to bother you, or your clan. If we offended you or—"
"You can't leave," She replied icily, "You now know where we live. Gunn knows our names and faces. There is too much distrust of you to let you just walk. I'm sorry, but until my people come to a decision, I can't do anything more."
"Can't just keep us here, you know," Spike yelled as the woman shut the cell door again and pocketed the key. "We'll break out," he watched as she started to walk away, his words not making a dent in her plans. He pounded on the cell bars and yelled again, when she was further down the hallway, "You're going to be sorry, holding William the Bloody, you are. And I do not like this one bit."
"Spike!" Angel shouted at him, "You're not helping them trust us anymore than they already do." He watched as the fight went out of the younger vampire and Spike sat down in the corner again. Spike fumed quietly, but at least he wasn't hindering their reputation any further. They were given shelter and food, and if they all continued to keep their cool they might make it out of there in a few days. That would be enough time for the clan to earn their trust, he hoped.
Spike picked up a bowl of the green liquid, having smelt the blood as well. He dipped a finger into the liquid and licked it off. "Hmm.. tastes all right. Don't think it's poisoned."
"Too bad," Angel secretly wished it were, just so he'd be rid of Spike once and for all. His stomach growled a bit, and he quickly forgot about the secret wish and was just glad to have something to eat. While he drank the cool liquid, he listened to Gunn talk about the rest of the cave system that the clan lived in. He'd made mental maps, memorizing each of the tunnels he entered when he had been treated for his ailments. Smart strategy, Angel reflected. Knowing the routes and different pathways would help if the situation worsened and they needed to escape. Though, he was still sticking to the original plan of pretending to be the calm and collected pacifist, instead of resorting to violence. Fiyara had seemed nice enough, and right now more than anything they needed allies. They were alone in this world, not used to its rules or dangers.
It was going to be a long hard learning process Angel did not look forward to. However, without Wesley around anymore they had no one amongst them adept enough to work the magic to get them home. He let the other's continued their conversation about their new accommodations by themselves as he began to fall into a deep brood. Wesley was gone. The truth hadn't really filtered in before now; he'd been too busy with the fight, too busy just trying to stay alive, or undead at least. He hadn't trusted the English-bred man to take care of himself in fight when Wesley had first arrived in Los Angeles. Honestly, the Rogue Demon Hunter as he had called himself annoyed him more than he let show. They'd continue to have their differences throughout the years, the biggest one being when Wesley had taken Connor, but through it all they had remained friends. Allies. Common champions.
It was Angel's lot in life to lose those close to him; he'd accepted it as part of the immortality package. He'd built up walls through the past so that no one would get close to him, yet some special ones had managed to worm their way into his heart, showing him that he had one even though it didn't beat anymore. Doyle, Fred, Cordelia, Wesley, they had all been important to him in some way, and he had lost each of them.
He looked at the three other people who occupied the jail cell, wondering how long it would be until he lost them too. True, Spike and Illyria persistently pissed him off, but he'd become accustomed to their bickering and teasing. He'd do what he could to protect them, whether or not he could shanshu anymore. He'd never fought for the shanshu before, not completely. He'd done it to keep things safe, to keep things from breaking down, to keep them whole. Being a hero still didn't appeal to him anymore, and he was tired of leading others to their deaths, but he'd still protect those around him. If for no other reason then they kept him from fading away completely.
...........................................
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Chapter 4
By Vixen
When Angel awoke, he found himself in a cage the size of a small jail cell, along with Spike and Illyria. The blue goddess has already awoken. She stood, motionless peering out through the slots with unblinking eyes. She was waiting, watching, getting ready to make her move. Angel groaned, feeling the after effects of the electricity that had shot through him. It must have been a pretty high voltage, he assumed by the size of the headache he now had. He looked over towards Spike; the younger vampire was still sleeping, but Angel was sure he'd be up soon enough and bothering the hell out of him again. Then he sat up a little straighter, realizing what was missing from this scene, "Gunn. Where's Gunn?"
Illyria didn't look at him when she responded to his question. She continued to stand vigil, holding her anger just under the surface. In a steady voice she replied, "They have taken him."
"They? They who?" Angel rose to his feet. The ground seemed to be moving slightly, but he presumed that was just the side effect of the nausea that had been caused by the attack. Gripping the wall, he willed himself not to fall over again. The day was just getting worse as it went on. He noticed his rain soaked jacket had since dried, and began to wonder just how long they had been knocked out.
"The people here," Illyria answered him again, "I do not think they want to harm us, but I do not appreciate being locked away like an animal. When I was a divinity insignificant creatures such as them worshipped at my feet. My dominance was not taken lightly. My might was unmatched. Now they presume to fasten their restraint on me, to possess me and.."
"Are you quite finished yet?" Spike grumbled as he started to wake up. He pushed himself into a seated position and leaned against the wall, getting as comfortable as he could in the new prison that held him.
Angel sighed and rolled his eyes slightly. First he had to put up with Illyria ranting on about the good ol' days of godhood, and now Spike was up to make his life even more miserable. Where was a stake when he needed one? Though at the moment he didn't know if he'd rather stake Spike or himself. The day was definitely not getting better. He walked over towards the padlocked door of the cell; reaching his hand through the bars he made a grab for the lock. While Spike and Illyria continued to bicker between themselves, he focused on trying to rip the lock apart, hoping his vampire strength would be enough to break it open. He gave it a few good hard tugs, but it was no use. The thing was unbreakable, solidly holding them in the small cell until whoever had put them there came back.
Spike was really getting into it with the shell now, turning his annoyance at being captured into verbal rivalry. Illyria was retailing in turn, picking him up by his shirt and just holding him in the air. She stared at him curiously while continued to mouth off to her, "Listen, Bluebird, you need to go get—"
Angel turned his attention back to the two of them, crossing his arms and leaning against the cell's door, "Spike, why don't you make this situation better and just don't talk. Again. Ever."
Illyria dropped the vampire, a small grin crossing her face before she walked to the other side of the cell. If she could feel human emotions, or admit to feeling them, the one she was experiencing at the moment was smug happiness at being the victor of the sparring match.
Spike picked himself up off the floor and stomped over to the taller vampire, he smirked at him defiantly, "You're not the leader anymore, remember? Can't tell me what to do now."
Angel growled low in his throat, remembering full well. He didn't want to be the one in charge anymore, but if that meant Spike was now the leader he figured he'd regret making that choice sooner or later. Choosing another tactic, Angel explained in as calm a voice as he could muster in the present situation, "Look, we've already lost members of our group, we've been captured, we still don't know what we're up against, and I think we should use our resources to try to figure a way out of here instead of fighting each other."
Spike continued to glare at Angel for a little while longer, before he sighed and nodded, "Right. Suss out a plan, get out of here," he went over the to-do list in his head, before pointing toward Illyria, "Then you and me are going to have a rematch."
"I look forward to it vampire," She said coldly. She always did enjoy sparring with the half-breed. It was fun to make him bleed or kick him across the room and watch him bounce across the floor. Strangely, he seemed to enjoy their matches just as much.
There was a noise of footsteps coming closer to the cell. Two pair of them. Angel looked out the cell bars, into the rocky cavernous hallway. He was certain the cell was in a cave, but the walkway was too dark to make out much. The footsteps came closer, and he began to pick up Gunn's familiar scent, and another unfamiliar one. They came closer until they stood in front of the cell.
"Gunn. Are you okay?" Angel asked, the other man looked to be unharmed; he even seemed a bit more relaxed then he had been before. He was wearing a new shirt, this one clean and unstained with blood. Still, despite all the reassuring sights, Angel wasn't going to be convinced so quickly when they were still being held captive.
"Great, really," Gunn nodded; lifting up his shirt he showed a new bandage over his wound. "They just fixed me up is all. Fiyara nursed my sick ass back to health," he gestured to the young woman. She had blond wavy hair and a small bindi tattoo between her eyes. By all outward appearances, she was just an ordinary human. She carried a tray of food with her, complete with some bowl full of green liquid that smelt like blood. Angel's mouth watered, it had been a while since he'd last fed. Gunn's voice brought his attention back to the present, "Should warn you though, there's a catch."
"You were found on our land," Fiyara spoke in a distant accent, "The slogs- "
"Those are the big demon-y types we fought," Gunn butt in, filling in all the gaps for his friends.
"Yes," Fiyara nodded to him and continued, "They had apparently beaten you badly. My tribe decided to help your friend out, he was in the worst shape of all. He almost died through loss of blood." She unlocked the door, "But there are those who still don't trust you. You are outsiders, and were not welcomed on our land." She narrowed her eyes, her voice now held a tone of irritation, "We still don't know what to do with you, so we've decided to keep you here until a consensus can be reached among us."
Gunn walked into the cell, complacent with the woman's wishes. Somehow, despite being held as a prisoner, she had earned his trust. Angel caulked it up to them saving his life. He looked at the woman, as she brought in the tray of food and laid it on the floor for the four of them. "We could just leave quietly on our own, we didn't mean to bother you, or your clan. If we offended you or—"
"You can't leave," She replied icily, "You now know where we live. Gunn knows our names and faces. There is too much distrust of you to let you just walk. I'm sorry, but until my people come to a decision, I can't do anything more."
"Can't just keep us here, you know," Spike yelled as the woman shut the cell door again and pocketed the key. "We'll break out," he watched as she started to walk away, his words not making a dent in her plans. He pounded on the cell bars and yelled again, when she was further down the hallway, "You're going to be sorry, holding William the Bloody, you are. And I do not like this one bit."
"Spike!" Angel shouted at him, "You're not helping them trust us anymore than they already do." He watched as the fight went out of the younger vampire and Spike sat down in the corner again. Spike fumed quietly, but at least he wasn't hindering their reputation any further. They were given shelter and food, and if they all continued to keep their cool they might make it out of there in a few days. That would be enough time for the clan to earn their trust, he hoped.
Spike picked up a bowl of the green liquid, having smelt the blood as well. He dipped a finger into the liquid and licked it off. "Hmm.. tastes all right. Don't think it's poisoned."
"Too bad," Angel secretly wished it were, just so he'd be rid of Spike once and for all. His stomach growled a bit, and he quickly forgot about the secret wish and was just glad to have something to eat. While he drank the cool liquid, he listened to Gunn talk about the rest of the cave system that the clan lived in. He'd made mental maps, memorizing each of the tunnels he entered when he had been treated for his ailments. Smart strategy, Angel reflected. Knowing the routes and different pathways would help if the situation worsened and they needed to escape. Though, he was still sticking to the original plan of pretending to be the calm and collected pacifist, instead of resorting to violence. Fiyara had seemed nice enough, and right now more than anything they needed allies. They were alone in this world, not used to its rules or dangers.
It was going to be a long hard learning process Angel did not look forward to. However, without Wesley around anymore they had no one amongst them adept enough to work the magic to get them home. He let the other's continued their conversation about their new accommodations by themselves as he began to fall into a deep brood. Wesley was gone. The truth hadn't really filtered in before now; he'd been too busy with the fight, too busy just trying to stay alive, or undead at least. He hadn't trusted the English-bred man to take care of himself in fight when Wesley had first arrived in Los Angeles. Honestly, the Rogue Demon Hunter as he had called himself annoyed him more than he let show. They'd continue to have their differences throughout the years, the biggest one being when Wesley had taken Connor, but through it all they had remained friends. Allies. Common champions.
It was Angel's lot in life to lose those close to him; he'd accepted it as part of the immortality package. He'd built up walls through the past so that no one would get close to him, yet some special ones had managed to worm their way into his heart, showing him that he had one even though it didn't beat anymore. Doyle, Fred, Cordelia, Wesley, they had all been important to him in some way, and he had lost each of them.
He looked at the three other people who occupied the jail cell, wondering how long it would be until he lost them too. True, Spike and Illyria persistently pissed him off, but he'd become accustomed to their bickering and teasing. He'd do what he could to protect them, whether or not he could shanshu anymore. He'd never fought for the shanshu before, not completely. He'd done it to keep things safe, to keep things from breaking down, to keep them whole. Being a hero still didn't appeal to him anymore, and he was tired of leading others to their deaths, but he'd still protect those around him. If for no other reason then they kept him from fading away completely.
...........................................
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