Disclaimer: You've heard it all before. Check a previous page if you need a pointer.
Feedback: This is for ForeverWes, and all those other people waiting for an update. See, you asked for it, and since you reviewed, you got it. It's been a hectic start to university life, in case you're wondering, so new chapters will be slow, but hopefully much quicker than the last! And as for a name for the creature, I'll let you guys decide. James Bond the second it may be, but I feel it needs a more original title. Review me with your ideas and I'll choose one just for you.
Again, sorry for the wait, and I'm glad you guys like the story so far. Keep reviewing and enjoy! :)
CHAPTER 9.
"Tell us your purpose. Who do you work for? All this will stop if you tell us the truth."
Angel ground his teeth against the pain, refusing them the satisfaction of a scream.
They had moved back onto the holy water now, using a little bit at a time on his skin, burning morbid patterns all over his body.
He was no novice when it came to pain. As Angelus, he had given more than his fair share of it out to others and had enjoyed every minute of it. He had also experienced the many enlightening types himself, under the tender guidance of his beloved Darla. As much as it sickened him now, he had to admit that it wasn't particularly unpleasant at the time, either.
Twisted fetishes aside, the current treatment was far from desirable, and it took all of his self-control and calming mechanisms to maintain his composure. At every opportunity, he would insist upon innocence, but he would not be reduced to begging. Apart from the fact that it would get him nowhere, it was imperative to assert some kind of an impression that he was passive.
Taking the punishment, but not retaliating, could go a long way to convincing these people that he was not like other vampires, and that he was not a threat. It was a long shot, but it was all he had.
"That's enough, get the crosses ready."
The man leant down over Angel's shivering frame, an almost sympathetic pinch to his expression. Angel forced himself to focus on the man's face, realising with no small amount of embarrassment that he had begun breathing heavily, falling into an old habit. He swallowed down the urge and stilled, regaining some measure of control.
"Feeling any more forthcoming, demon?" the man asked, with none of the bitterness or contempt that usually accompanied such a sentence. However much hatred this guy had for Angel's kind, it was clear that he was not comfortable with these methods. He had some compassion, something that led to Angel mentally erasing his previous comparison with the Council from his thoughts. This was different.
Summoning up what little strength he had left, Angel conveyed all the determination he could into his words, struggling to tame the waver in his voice.
"It doesn't matter how long you keep this up, you'll only get the same story. And it's not because of any loyalty I have to a higher dark power, or for some misguided sense of honour. It's because it's the truth, and nothing you can do will change that."
The man's face hardened.
"Jane!" he called, keeping his eyes fastened to Angel's face. "Have the others brought up from the basement. We'll see if they're any more inclined to talk."
"No!" Angel yelled, desperate to be heard. "Leave them out of this, they don't know anything."
"We'll just see about that", the man replied, standing and turning to his associate when she was still to move from her spot.
"With all due respect, sir, is that really necessary? I mean, evil as they may be, they're still –"
She stopped when the man shook his head, putting a hand on her shoulder and leading her a short distance away from their captive. Whether it was the man's purpose to allow Angel to hear their conversation or not, Angel couldn't tell, but he listened anyway.
"Sir," the woman continued in a hushed tone, "perhaps he is telling the truth. Why would a vampire protect these people when it is in his best interests to palm off the torture to someone else? And I'm not so sure it's just an act."
"I understand your reasoning, Jane, but consider this. You say he is trying to protect his people, pleading for them to be excused out of concern for their welfare, but I say he is pleading for their absence because he knows that if they are brought out here, they will tell us everything. He is guarding a secret, I am quite sure of it. This whole situation is just too bizarre to suggest anything else."
Angel inwardly groaned, listening helplessly as some of the men organised themselves to receive the other prisoners. The man returned to stand over him, lighting another cigarette as he looked down, expressionless.
He was going to say something else, maybe in another attempt to frighten Angel into revealing some information before the others were brought up, but he only got as far as opening his mouth to take a breath.
There was a quiet creak as one of the hotel doors opened, seemingly by itself, and a moment of panicked breathlessness stole all murmurs and bustling sounds from the lobby. Heads turned in the sudden hush and grips on weapons tightened as the source of the interruption was awaited. Angel doubted very much that these guys would appreciate any more spectators.
The elder man gave some sort of warning signal by way of a jerky motion of his arm, waving his subordinates into readiness. For a second, Angel half fancied that it was just the wind, or maybe an innocent client walking in to find help. They were liable to be disappointed.
But then Angel remembered the set up, and assumed that guards would have been placed outside. Perhaps the opening of a door unannounced was more sinister than first thought, then. He tensed.
A hand clawed its way across the threshold, gripping the first step down to haul an arm and the person it was attached to into the room. Judging by the black attire and armoured appearance, Angel assumed the bloodied man to be a part of the team currently assembled in silent awe around him. The wretched man dragged himself a bit further, gasped, and collapsed, the door falling ajar against his dying body.
In no way could this be a good thing.
Fleetingly sparing a thought for the poor man, Angel turned his attention to the reaction of the rest of the group. As if each person in the room had just been stabbed unceremoniously with a drawing pin, the lobby burst into a flurry of organised activity, teams of men falling immediately into efficient groups, weaponry primed and aimed at the doors in a well-planned formation. They were preparing for a siege attack, and they covered themselves like professionals. Army they were not, but they were intimidating, nonetheless.
Something stuck its head around the door over the now dead man's body, sniffing at the blood before it looked up to see the greeting. It didn't live to regret it.
All Angel could think was that it was some kind of demon, because when the soldier boys opened fire, it exploded in a cloud of tar-like blackness, spraying bits of skin and chunks of flesh everywhere. Either it came back to life, or more of its kind followed blindly into the same danger, as the firing continued, punctuated after each spray of bullets by the clicking of reloaded clips.
The scene seemed very surreal to Angel, bullets whistling and cracking over him in a kind of dazed slow motion, amidst shouts of orders that he could no longer decipher. The realisation of just how vulnerable and exposed he was, tied helplessly in the middle of the floor, hit him like a brick that had ricochet from a speeding train. All his supervisors had run for cover and joined the battle, leaving him alone and forgotten in the noise.
There was nothing for it. He had no choice but to use the opportunity to roll to relative safety, even if it meant subjecting his already broken body to more unnecessary exertion, and risking another good beating afterwards when he was found out…if there was an afterwards, of course. Right now, the risk seemed worth taking, and incurring the wrath of his captors was the least of his worries.
Making like the creature in the absence of any other choice, Angel headed for the shelter of the rows of chairs, his chains clanking on the floor in his wake.
* * *
Cordelia and Wesley leapt into a veritable war of noise, people shouting over the gunfire as they ran whilst the sounds of fighting jostled for superiority. Demonic battle cries added to the mix, shattering glass and door ramming becoming of little concern when the reasons for the sounds became apparent.
The hotel was being assaulted from all sides by what looked to be the very same breed of demon responsible for digging the nest that Angel Investigations had so professionally managed to clean out under the industrial estate. It seemed like too much of a coincidence for Wesley to dismiss, and, considering the phone call earlier this evening, he imagined the incident to be connected in some abstract way to the current situation.
Regardless of what any of this could mean, action was needed, and fast. Groups of the lumbering beasts were pouring into the lobby through every available entrance, their sheer numbers more than making up for their lack of fighting skills. They were systematically targeting small groups of resistance at a time and overpowering them, tearing their victims to pieces.
"I don't understand!" Cordelia announced from Wesley's side, dodging to the side when one incapacitated man nearly tumbled into her. Straining to be heard above the din, the change in volume from whisper to shout was surprisingly welcome after the pressing near-silence of the basement.
"Aren't these guys with you?" she asked the unconscious man when he crumpled beside her. "I don't believe this. Can today get any worse?"
"I wouldn't tempt fate, if I were you", Wesley urged her as they ran for the cover of an overturned table.
One of the gunmen nearest them noticed their apparent free-roaming state and turned a confused head in their direction.
"Don't even think about it!" Cordelia hissed. "Eyes front, buster."
The man grudgingly complied, taking aim and felling a snarling demon that threatened to make the guy more familiar with his insides.
"We have to find Angel", Wesley said, eyes scanning the room. "Maybe we can get him and sneak out somehow. As much as I hate to see a good place get trashed, I think it might be best just to cut our losses and get out of here. Leave them to it and then come back and clean up the mess later."
"Um, could be a slight problem with that plan", Cordelia pointed out, inclining her head sharply.
Wesley followed Cordelia's line of sight across to the other side of the room to see an Angel shaped heap of torn up clothing and shackles huddled under some furniture. That wouldn't have been a problem in itself, except that getting over there meant crossing the modern day equivalent of World War I stale-mate trenches, or at least, the no mans land in between. As desperate as he was, Wesley didn't much feel up to braving an exchange of fire of this proportion and still hope to be intact on the other side.
"Oh, I see", he said instead, searching around in his head for plan B.
Cordelia frowned. There was a way out, back the way they had come and through the entrance to the sewers in the basement. They could get Gunn, sneak out, and not have to go anywhere near the trigger-happy Die Hard wannabes and their oozing buddies.
Except, she wasn't leaving without Angel.
By the look on Wesley's face, he was thinking the same thing too. For what it was worth, she felt relieved by that fact, knowing that she was in no mood to deal with any 'sacrifice for the sake of the group' mentality right now. She'd have to thank him later.
"Let's try and get round the side", Cordelia suggested, motioning towards the office and hopefully the various pieces of metal cutting equipment that it held.
Wesley nodded and followed her as she scooted along the wall, ducking and crouching as seemed appropriate at the time. He paused only briefly to glance over his shoulder for the whereabouts of the creature, but finding nothing, he pushed his concerns to the back of his mind. There would time to worry about that soon enough.
'Okay, we're in. Now what?' ran the little movie commentary in the back of Cordelia's head as she squatted down behind the desk. Fortunately, she had her own answers, and she began rummaging round in all the drawers and cupboards she could find, looking for something that could help Angel out. Wesley kept watch, ensuring that they didn't attract the attention of either the big nasties or their captors.
"Damn!" Cordelia cursed, coming back up empty handed. "I must have left them under the counter."
"What did you need to use the bolt cutters for?" Wesley asked, intrigued.
Cordelia ducked her head but continued to bustle around under the desk.
"That piece of fence always caught on my sleeves when I came in", she replied, as though it was the most obvious explanation in the world.
"Cordelia! You can't just do that to the railings! This is a protected building!"
"Yeah well, whoever's doing the protecting isn't doing such a good job right now, are they? Now come on, we have to find them. And you can have the off-cut back if you're really that bothered about it."
Wesley groaned to himself as he prepared to follow, then realised that a more important point was being overlooked.
"You know, Cordelia, when I go on at you to put things away in the right place when you're finished with them, I have good reason. I can't help but think that this might be one of those times when it pays to be neat and organised."
"If you dare finish that sentence off with 'that'll teach you a lesson', or 'serves you right', I'll use the cutters on a part of your anatomy in the very near future, which I'm sure Angel won't appreciate. I know where the stupid things are, don't I? Now stop making such a fuss and help me."
Shrugging, Wesley resisted the urge to say 'well you said it', and leaned round to look over her shoulder and through the second doorway to the counter. Not only was the equipment they were looking for clearly visible, sitting uselessly on a shelf out of reach, but the intruder woman and the man responsible for all this had taken up their places behind them, using the counter as a makeshift shield. Not ideal, considering.
"Damn!" Cordelia said again, making her feelings on the matter perfectly clear.
"Quite. Any more ideas?"
Perhaps one of the demons had gotten inspiration of it's own, or had simply become lost, but a great black creature ambled into the office at that moment, scaring the life out of its two inhabitants. Executing a dead-ringer of a whack-the-mole impression, they both bobbed back down again, holding their breath in fear of discovery. Their current boxed in status did not bode well if battle was to become necessary.
Luckily for them, however, the beast seemed more intent on the source of the loud banging noise emanating from behind the counter, and it confidently stormed towards under the false pretence that it was invincible.
Unaware of the danger, the man and woman edged further towards the end of the counter, peering round into the lobby and gaining ground on the enemy.
"Right", Wesley announced, hefting his rather insignificant and rusty weapon before him as he rose.
He followed the demon out, ready to finish off at least one of the brutes before this was over.
"Invade our hotel, will you?" he spat, bringing down an arc on the demons head.
The thing snarled and lashed out clumsily, forcing Wes to dance back out of reach. The sound alerted the crouching woman and she stood and turned, facing the threat without being prepared. Her eyes widened as the demon growled again, lunging towards her as the nearest target. She tried to bring up her gun for defence, but she would have been too late.
Wesley threw himself at the woman's legs, tackling her to the ground just in time to avoid what would have been a rather unsightly decapitation wound to the neck. The demon swayed forward, its face the very picture of irritation, right before Cordelia's sword gave it something else to grimace about.
It fell down dead at her feet, and she sneered at it in disgust, wiping the sticky hair from her forehead.
"Never turn your back me", she said with a smile, directing her gaze downwards to indicate her apparent freedom for the benefit of the other woman. She in question simply stared back bewilderedly as Wesley hastily extracted himself from the pile.
"What the devil is going on here?" came a deep voice as the man rushed back to the woman's side.
"I'm alright, father", the woman answered as she was helped up, her eyes never leaving the pair in front of her.
"We haven't got time for this", the man informed as he shot suspicious glances at Cordelia and Wesley in turn. "The others need our help."
A grateful smile from the woman and the fact that the man left them alone to their own devices the nearest they got to a thank you, Wes and Cordy were ignored once again as all the others got on with driving the enemy forces back out of the doors. They were making good progress now as the bodies piled up, and each step they gained made more safe space for the ex-captives to work.
Grabbing the cutters and sprinting across the battle field, they quickly set about the task of rolling away the debris and casting aside the broken chairs that had accumulated over Angel's body. His back finally exposed, the vampire gave a weary moan to indicate his discomfort.
"Angel! Oh my God… we're getting you out", Cordelia babbled as she shifted more junk. "How are you…I mean, what can we…are you…?"
"Ow, ow and ow. I think that just about covers it", Angel wheezed, screwing up his face. "Oh no, wait. Ow. And then some."
"Angel, don't talk", Wesley ordered, taking in the injuries to Angel's chest. He gingerly pulled him out from under the row of chairs, and Cordelia happily took up the task of cutting away the chains.
"How could they do this?" she ranted angrily. "Just wait till I find out who did this to you. There's gonna be hell to pay…how dare they…coming into other peoples homes…had no right…beating up innocent guys…stupid guns…with their big army…just wait…"
The words became lost in his head as Angel floated around on a hazy sea, clinging desperately to his tenuous raft of consciousness. He could feel himself being cut loose and rolled over onto his back. Strong arms lifted him up to lean back against something hard. He grimaced with pain when someone pressed for his wounds and held cloth against already semi-healed bleeding. A keen sense of hunger became apparent as he thought about his injured and healing weakness, so he stopped thinking about it. Instead he listened to Wesley when he told him he would be all right and took comfort in the fact that he was being looked after now. But he would not sleep. Not yet.
"He looks really bad", Cordelia worried, stating the obvious despite herself.
"I know", Wesley said in a way that he hoped sounded reassuring. "He is a vampire, though. Rapid healing, and all that. He'll be just fine with a little blood, won't you Angel?"
"Yes, blood please", Angel replied, sounding so far away that Wesley wondered if he had even heard anything that had just been said.
Angel closed his eyes and leant back against the sofa, and Wesley frowned and pressed harder against the bleeding. It was only a trickle compared to the flood that would spurt from such wounds with a pulse, but it was worrying all the same. What with his healing working over time, Angel would need something to eat to keep up his stamina. Unfortunately, he doubted if their current guests would pass over a bag of blood if they were asked politely.
Wesley tied off the wound with a rag of Angel's own torn shirt in time hear a voice behind him.
"Why would you tend to a demon like him when he could so easily turn on you all?"
Standing and turning, Wesley came face to face once again with the elder man, the woman at his side. The lobby had been cleared of demons now, or live ones at least, and distant gunfire told of the elimination of stragglers beyond the entrance doors.
He and Cordelia pressed their sides together, putting themselves between their fallen friend and his tormentors in protective defiance.
"Just what are we going to do with you?" the man asked, shaking his head and sighing.
To be continued…