Chapter Three
"Annnnd the lights are out," Rory said, fidgeting nervously. Angel heard his heart speed up past the zone of nervousness and into fear, but his voice remained steady.
Red emergency lighting flicked on along the hallways, making them suddenly appear smaller and more sinister.
"I can see alright," Angel said in a tone that stated fact rather than offer reassurance or support.
"Yeah. Uh...good." Rory squinted into the darker corners. "Maybe it's a reboot? Solution to everything, you know. Turn it off. Turn it on again."
"I wouldn't know," Angel replied. "I don't exactly get along well with technology…"
Rory started walking down the hall again, trying the first door he came to, only to find it locked. "Well," he said, eyeing the locked door suspiciously, "that's the first thing you do. Turn it off...turn it on. Hope it gets better."
Angel grunted in the back of his throat. "I'll have to try that," he muttered, mostly because he was supposed to. Then, in the darkness of the hallways, a light nearly blinded them. Angel ducked instinctively because the sheer magnitude of the brightness reminded him of the sun, but a few seconds later he realized that there was a definite (and relieving) lack of him burning up.
"What the-?" Rory said, shielding his eyes against the light. "Okay, now I really can't see anything."
Angel straightened up cautiously, his arm over his eyes and relying more heavily on his other senses than before to gauge their surroundings. The Master was still somewhere farther ahead, by the scent and by that instinctive pull that connects bloodlines. It wasn't quite as strong with the Master as it was with Darla or Drusilla, but it was strong enough.
"Come on," Angel told Rory, moving forward again and hoping that they would move out of the beam of light soon.
They pressed on, feeling their way along the wall and fumbling at door handles, which were all locked now.
"Amy!" Rory called out. Silence answered and Angel sensed through his tightly shut eyes that the hue of the light shifted to blue-white instead of pure white.
"What the hell is this ship doing?" Angel asked. "I thought rebooting was supposed to fix it." Angel suddenly smacked face first, rather painfully, into the wall at a corner he hadn't known was coming and swore again.
There was a squeal and static of a radio, suddenly cut off by a click, and the Doctor's voice echoed around them. "Heeeeeeelllloooooo, TARDIS!"
"Doctor?" Rory asked.
"Yes, hello, Rory! Guess who got the intercom working?"
"What the hell is with the lights?" Angel demanded. Even as he said it, though, the light was beginning to fade. Angel cautiously squinted his eyelids open. Still painful, but he could make out a few door-like shadows. He closed his eyes again.
"And hello to you, too, Angel! How about Amy? Ponds? Sound off!"
"Here," said Rory automatically. If Angel could have rolled his eyes, he would have. As it was, he stopped and turned on his heel toward Rory, who must have picked up on the movement because he shuffled his feet in response.
An empty static filled the hallway for a moment, the Doctor's voice clearly absent from the air. The lights abruptly normalized, and Angel blinked several times, looking around with half-squinted eyes. His trust in the lighting systems on this ship was severely suffering.
Several moments later the intercom crackled back to life. "Okay, Amy, Amy! Tell me where you are. Yes! I know about the monster."
Angel straightened a bit, tensing. He wasn't sure how the whole intercom thing worked, but if the Master had already found Amy… He turned to Rory. "We've got to go," he said urgently, and broke into a jog, picking up the Master's scent again.
"Doctor?" Angel asked. "If the Master's with her, tell her to keep him talking." Then he added as an afterthought to himself, "He loves talking…"
"Yes, Amy," the Doctor's voice continued. "Have you tried engaging in negotiations? Go on. I'm sure he'll see reason. That's a girl! Be right there." There was a click and his voice continued, "Rory, Angel, where are you?"
Rory opened up a door. "There's a giant, yellow slide," he reported breathlessly.
"Great, Angel, go down. You'll want...three doors up on the right."
Angel grimaced internally. He was all for reaching the Master soon, but did it have to be down a slide that looked like it came straight out of a McDonald's playroom?
Rory, for his part, didn't hesitate before he jumped feet first into the plastic tube. He disappeared almost instantly. Sighing, Angel climbed in after him and launched himself down.
A claustrophobic and surprisingly violent ride of twists and turns later, Angel shot out of the bottom and nearly landed on top of Rory, who was struggling through-
"What the hell?" Angel said, swatting colorful plastic balls away from him like so many mosquitoes in a swamp-and just as pointless.
"We've gotten to the part of the adventure where the Doctor shows his little kid side," Rory explained.
"Great," Angel muttered, pushing his way through the sea of plastic balls. "So we get to play in the little kid zone and your wife is the Happy Meal. If I were you, I'd rethink my choice in friends."
"Oh, you get used to it," Rory said tiredly, and not at all like he was used to it. "Besides, I chose Amy. She chooses our friends."
"Ah," Angel nodded. So it was like that. He wasn't really surprised, but he couldn't really say so. "Did he say three doors up on the right?"
"Yeah," Rory panted beside him. He flicked aside a child's sock with a quick motion and a look that one might give a millipede. It seemed like the kind of prop added for authenticity, but there was a part of Angel found the fact that it was even there deeply creepy.
Rory continued, "Not really sure what he...ohhhh."
Rory stopped wading through the ball pit and Angel stopped to look back at him. Rory had finally seen what Angel had been leading them toward: two columns of doors in the wall at the far end of the ball pit, leading, presumably, to each consecutive level up. There were at least ten floors, and several meters of distance between the two columns.
But the falling tone of despair in Rory's voice was due, Angel was pretty sure, to the climbing wall that was between the columns of doors as the only way up to each level. Rory's face fell further the higher his eyes tracked up the wall.
"At least it's only the third one," Angel said, turning and shoving the balls aside to reach the wall faster.
"Easy for you to say," Rory muttered. Angel wasn't sure he was supposed to hear that, so he pretended he didn't.
Angel reached the wall and edged over to the righthand column of doors. He started climbing, his fingers gripping and pulling so quickly that he practically launched himself up the wall. He wrenched the third floor door open the second he reached it and spared the briefest second to glance down, noting that Rory was still making his way towards the second floor door, but doggedly climbing nonetheless.
"Don't wait for me!" Rory shouted up at him.
Angel didn't. He swung through the third door onto a cool white stone floor. A castle's foyer spread grandly out before him, elegant marble stairs sweeping up and away to what must be hundreds of rooms, a thick red carpet inviting him forward and upward. Shining metal suits of armor stood guard in the various corners, mammoth tapestries covered the walls where there weren't life-sized oil paintings, and-Angel swore-on the wooden hall table to the left, a three-pronged golden candlestick and a small wooden clock stood with sleepy faces carved into their wax and woodwork. When he looked behind him, the door to the ball pit looked like a portal between realities.
"Doctor! I'm in a castle. Where do I go?"
"Up the stairs and then right. There's a door just after the stained glass window of Galgalon slaying the vortasaur."
Angel ran. "This is wrong," he growled to himself as took the stairs four at a time. "This. Is. So. Wrong."
He took the right and looked for the stained glass window as he dashed down the hallway. Thankfully, there was only one stained glass window, having no idea who was supposed to be depicted slaying what, and Angel dove through the door next to it. He found himself in a long grey hallway with three-foot circles marking the walls at regular intervals.
"Angel? Negotiations aren't going well..." the Doctor's voice crackled through the air.
"I'm in the hallway!" Angel shouted, already running, and counting doors in case that was important.
"Teal door! On the left!"
Angel spotted the teal door. He didn't bother to slow down or try the doorknob; he simply used his shoulder to crash through the door (which hurt more than he was used to-it being metal-but at least it worked).
Through the door ran an identical grey hallway, and Angel spotted them. A woman he assumed to be Amy, bent over and struggling against the steel grip of the Master, long red hair hiding her face. The Master paused, his lips parted and his teeth bared over her neck, looking pleased at the entrance of an audience.
Then the Master suddenly frowned, confused. "Angelus?"
Angel snarled. It was a typical greeting between them, and conveniently not an answer to the question.
"Rory?" Amy asked, trying to see what was going on through her hair.
"Let her go," Angel growled.
"Angelus, you really do have the most amusing ideas." The Master gave Amy a shake by the grip he had in her hair that made her stumble and yelp. "Tell me, is this labyrinth one of your little games? I never knew you practiced sorcery."
Amy let out a ha! of laughter. "You are so dead as soon as the Doctor hears you called his spaceship 'sorcery.'" There was a pause as Angel and the Master continued to glare at each other and Amy added under her breath, "Or he'll find it funny. But you should definitely let me go! And who are you?" she shouted at Angel, twisting to see him and trying to blow the hair out of her eyes.
"Innocent bystander," Angel said, inching slowly forward.
"Spaceship?" the Master cocked his head curiously. "Does the sorcerer cast his spells from the clouds?"
"Uh," Angel faltered, wondering how exactly to explain a spaceship to someone who might still think the Earth was the center of the universe. Particularly this spaceship, which Angel still needed someone to explain to him. But this was good: the Master was curious, talking. He wasn't hellbent on killing the girl, it had just seemed like a good idea at the time. Angel could work with that.
"Clouds?" Amy grimaced at the pain in her scalp, but to her credit, kept going, "Are you an alien or not?"
"He's a vampire," Angel said, much more confident with this information.
"Like the fish?"
Angel sighed and the Master stared at her.
"The fish?" the Master's mouth hung agape. He raised what would have been his eyebrows if he'd had any left at Angel, looking for help-or maybe just confirmation that the human had lost it.
"Yeah," grumbled Amy. "Been there. Done that. So over it." She kicked the Master in the knee.
He yelled and stumbled backward, yanking Amy with him by the hair. Angel rushed forward, taking advantage of the Master being off guard, grabbing his free arm, wrenching it behind his back, and twisting it upward until the Master yelled again.
"Let her go," Angel demanded again.
"After I crush her throat," the Master growled, "and then I will teach you some humility."
"No!" dual voices shouted as two doors banged from either end of the hallway. Rory burst through the teal door that Angel had used, gasping for breath and sweating profusely after his climb, while the Doctor backed through the yellow door behind them, two bright blue buckets of water sloshing in his hands. The Master jerked and shoved Angel off of his arm, who had lost his grip when he spun around in his own shock to look at the Doctor. The Master tugged Amy away from Angel several steps, finding a safe buffer between him and the cautiously approaching Rory.
"No humility!" the Doctor shouted, spinning on the spot, water sloshing from the blue buckets. "I don't allow anything of the sort on my ship. Nasty stuff. Unacceptable."
"Doctor!" Amy yelled, gripping her hair and trying to pull free of the Master.
"Yes, Amy," the Doctor said cheerfully. "You're right. We have not quite finished our water battle. I was about to win, too!"
"You let go of her," demanded Rory, pointing a warning finger at the Master.
"My, that does seem to be the popular desire of the day," the Master said with a grin. "What'll you give me in return?"
Everyone turned to look at the Doctor, whose plan might be buckets of water, but it was more of a plan than Angel had, at least.
The Doctor grinned. "A luxury trip back to the lovely space and time of your origin," he promised, walking forward with slow, causal steps. "No harm, no foul. Everything as it was. You go back to your, uh, probably evil plans, and I go back to winning my water battle." The water sloshed as the Doctor lifted one of the buckets again.
"And if I don't?" the Master's mouth twisted into a smile.
The Doctor stopped smiling. "Then you will find your visit much less pleasant. Come on, do the smart thing."
Angel, knowing the Master on a more personal level than the rest, knew that he often did not do the smart thing. What was important was getting the Master to loosen his grip on Amy. He noticed that the Doctor was looking at Angel more than the Master. Angel shook his head.
The Doctor let out a small breath and set down one of the buckets. "Alright, kiddo, you have to the count of three. One."
The Master dragged Amy closer and gripped her neck, his claws digging into her pale skin. Angel caught a whiff of blood in the air. Amy let out a strangled noise somewhere between a whimper and a growl of protest.
"Two-three," the Doctor said, and sloshed the bucket of water in Amy's face. Skin sizzled and smoke rose off of the Master where the water splashed onto him. A few burning drops hit Angel, too, and he flinched in surprise. The Master dropped Amy and backed away, clawing at the burning flesh on his already hideous face. Amy hurried over to stand next to Rory, who put an arm around her despite her being drenched.
The Doctor dropped the empty bucket and plucked the second bucket from the floor. He jogged past the hissing Master to where Rory stood. Grinning, he tipped the water onto Rory's head. "Did you know that I am very good friends with Pope Boniface II?" he said conversationally. "There was this whole mix up that added three days to the year. We had to rework the entire calendar to cover it up."
Rory rubbed the water out of his eyes. "What did you do?"
"Covered you in vampire acid." The Doctor grinned back at Angel. "Classic vampires. I guessed he wouldn't like holy water. You'll have to tell me how that works."
"Magic," Angel replied, backing away from the creeping puddle of water spreading on the floor. "Or maybe sorcery? Faith?" All words for the same thing, as far as Angel was concerned.
"Sorcerer!" the Master shook his fist at the Doctor, his voice gurling with rage like the boiling water on his skin.
"Yes!" the Doctor shouted back, and pointed a finger in the Master's face. "Right! I am the biggest, nastiest sorcerer you will ever meet and you have just made me very angry. Now you will either make the smart decision and go home or I will do something a lot less nice than dumping acid in your face."
The Master considered the Doctor warily for a moment, sizing up what he knew with what the Doctor was insinuating.
"He's not lying," Angel spoke up.
"His heart races," the Master replied.
"He has two," Angel told him. "He's…" Angel searched for a term that would make sense. "From a race of magicians. His power is strong and he has-" Angel found that his ego didn't even like lying about it, but he swallowed his pride and said anyway, "-defeated myself on many occasions." The Doctor grinned importantly at him, which Angel returned with a glare. "Master," Angel turned back to the ancient vampire, "he will use his strong powers to take you home, where I know you have much more important matters to contend with."
"And," Amy added, "he is the scariest of the race of...magicians. He's so scary, they don't even invite him over anymore."
The Doctor grinned at Amy now, and Angel really wished that the Doctor had turned into someone who didn't look like he was an excitable child playing dress-up.
"That!" the Doctor snapped his fingers at Amy, and then turned back to the Master. "And just to make this easier on you, I've already pulled you off your own personal timeline. So, if you don't go home, it will destroy everything you have ever cared about."
"That would be himself," Angel supplied.
"It will certainly destroy yourself," the Doctor agreed. "Plus a few worlds, give or take. Really. Let's just have a nice walk back to the console room, and you can go back to your day." He pointed eagerly back at the yellow door with both hands.
The Master glanced at Angel with a cautious skepticism. Angel nodded.
The Master turned his eye back to the Doctor. "Very well," he said reluctantly. "Take me home. Mutated Magician."
"Wonderful!" The Doctor clapped his hands. He patted the Master's shoulder and waved him toward the yellow door. "Right this way, then. There's no place like home, after all."
"Yes, but different from the Venice vampires," the male human said again. Apparently, there was still some confusion as to the definition of vampire, and the sorcerer had not agreed to let the Master or Angelus demonstrate some of the finer points of not being anything like fish.
"It seems like once you've done vampires, you should be done with them," the female grumbled, also for what seemed like the dozenth time. She complained a tiring amount.
"But then we wouldn't get to have such interesting conversations," the sorcerer said from under the console, his boots tapping together.
This was, apparently, where he had to set up to complete his spell. It was a very odd structure. There were many metal and glowing objects, none of which looked like candles. There was a looking glass that showed many strange symbols that the sorcerer appeared to read, and yet there was a book on the stand, which the Master guessed was the primary spellbook. He had glanced at it as he strode past, and though the instructions were written in English, the spells themselves were a language the Master did not understand. Apparently, the spell was to summon a deity called "Quantum Physics." The Master was unfamiliar with this deity, and he did not enjoy unfamiliarity. There were simply too many unknowns.
"So tell me, Sorcerer," the Master said authoritatively, "for what purpose was I brought here?"
"It's a little embarrassing," the sorcerer mumbled from under the console. "My...uhhhhh...spell. It mistook you for an old friend of mine."
The female folded her arms across her chest. "A friend? What friend is this that you easily mistake for an evil, bloodsucking, ugly-as-my great-aunt-Hilda creature?"
The Master snapped his teeth at the girl.
"Be nice to your aunt!" the sorcerer scolded, pulling himself back out from under the mushroom-shaped podium.
Perhaps, the Master thought, the sorcerer was keeping the humans for use in some ritual sacrifice later. The female was certainly clad scantily enough to appease a number of deities, although she did not smell like a virgin. Not all deities required virgins, of course, but it was a nice gesture that the Master always preferred to include. Of course, if they were being kept for ritual sacrifice, the Masterwould have locked them up, but this was a strange place full of strange people.
The female cocked her barely-covered hip (not even among the poorest of peasants had the Master seen a skirt made of such little material) and raised an eyebrow at the sorcerer.
"So they have the same name. Big deal."
The young male human raised his hand. "You have a friend called Master?"
The Master cocked his head at this. Someone else was using his title? The Master clenched his fist.
The sorcerer scowled at the boy. "Do I complain about your friends?"
"Actually, yes."
The sorcerer huffed. "Angel, how was your day?"
Angelus was just starting to make grumbling noises when the Master announced, "I would like to meet this friend! I would make him beg." He lifted a hand and curled his fingers threateningly, demonstrating just how much this imposter would plead for his life in the all-powerful grip of the Master's claws. He imagined the other "Master" prostrating himself on the ground before him, powerless against the Master's unbreakable will. Then they would find out who the true Master was. The corner of his mouth turned upward in an anticipatory sneer.
The sorcerer coughed, like something had gotten lodged in his throat. He started to make a sound like laughter, but then he frowned and eventually he settled on a quizzical expression, pondering the Master. Raising a finger he said, "You really shouldn't say things like that. It makes me uncomfortably curious."
Angelus shifted next to the Master in what seemed to be a similar discomfort. Perhaps he wished to return to the fold of the Order, and join in answering the sorcerer's curiosity. They could start by removing this other Master's fingernails.
"Hold on," the girl held up a hand, trying to get the facts straight. She pointed accusingly at both the sorcerer and Angelus. "You both have evil friends called 'The Master,' and-"
"-Not a friend," Angelus interrupted.
At the same time, the sorcerer started mumbling about the definition of 'friend' in the context of certain situations, which might be interpreted...
"Angelus," the Master said, turning to him, "I'm hurt. Are we not family?"
"In blood only," Angelus crossed his arms over his chest.
"Blood is the only thing that matters," the Master said with all the reverence that the topic of blood demanded. Angelus made a motion like trying to shake an irritating fly away. The Master glared at him. Still a rebellious young stallion. The Master itched to tame him.
"Blood," the Master continued, stepping closer to Angelus, pulling himself up in the aura of authority that cowed braver vampires than the stallion, "is our God. Blood not only gives us life, but birthrights. Power. Magic-"
"Eww," interrupted the girl.
The Master spared the briefest irritated glance at her.
"What did we say about respecting alien cultures?" the sorcerer shouted from under the console.
"Only when they're not stupid?" she asked.
"Dominion!" the Master continued, stepping yet closer to Angelus. "That is the birthright passed down to you through me, and-" The Master paused. Something was amiss. The air around Angelus smelled...different. It smelled...of Angelus, certainly. And oddly, of something softer. Milky, sweet, masculine, and also just of hint of something that reminded him of Darla. And there was that twist that was unmistakable; the entwined oneness of a new life.
The Master knew what he thought couldn't be possible, but still it was...
Interesting.
Angelus was nervous. He shifted away from the Master, and his nervousness confirmed several suspicions. There were prophecies, after all. The Master had educated himself extremely well on those.
The Master smiled. "Oh, what have you done, Angelus?" he asked softly, his delight growing.
"How are we coming, Doctor?" Angelus asked urgently.
"Nearly there," the sorcerer answered, ducking under the podium again. "A few positioning systems need to be hooked up. Everyone, just keep cool for five minutes."
Things were falling so beautifully into place. Angelus had a child. The Master was in need of a child. "Has my boy worked himself into the prophesies? Tell me. Tell me all about my great-grandson. I should be so proud."
"I'm not your boy," Angelus said to the Master through a clenched jaw.
The Master had read the Writings of Aurelius so many times, he could recite their entirety in his sleep. He counted the figures in the room. Four, not including himself.
"Your child is not here, which means that you left him with someone else," he said, working the logic aloud. That would make five. Which happened to be the number of people who needed to die to bring forth the Anointed One.
The Master grinned to himself. Who would have thought that the stallion would be the key to the perfection of his beautiful family?
"Listen," Angelus said with a note of desperation. "You can't get out of here. You'll just have to wait to catch up to me after you go back to where you were. Remember? Exploding timeline?"
"Yes," the Master hissed. "Worlds hang in the balance."
"What's he talking about?" the boy asked. The Master could already smell his building fear.
The Master straightened himself grandly. "And there will be a time of crisis," he recited,beginning to pace around the odd podium, "of worlds hanging in the balance. And in this time shall come the Anointed, the Master's great warrior. And the Slayer will not know him, will not stop him, and he will lead her into Hell. Five will die," The Master thrust out his hand to show the five,"and from their ashes the Anointed shall rise." He twisted his hand around and made a theatrical rising motion."The Brethren of Aurelius shall greet him and usher him to his immortal destiny!" The Master's arms flew out to expound the magnificence of the unfolding world at their doorstep.
The sorcerer clamored out from under the console again. "What?"
"What?" said the girl.
"He's going to kill us now, isn't he?" said the boy.
"Dammit," said Angelus.
"Hey!" the sorcerer shouted. "I said to keep it cool!"
"Fools!" the Master cried triumphantly, dancing around the sorcerer's glowing mushroom. "You have already lost! The prophecies have brought us to this glorious moment, and you should be grateful that they have chosen you to fulfill this unholy work! Your destinies will bring the suffering and death of millions!"
"Right. Time to go." The sorcerer reached across the glowing panel for a large lever. The Master slapped the sorcerer away, sending him tumbling down the stairs toward the door. Angelus lunged at him next, and the Master threw him over his shoulder. As Angelus crashed to the ground, the boy was already halfway to the podium, reaching for the lever. Apparently, anyone could initiate the spell now that the setup was complete.
The Master slid between the boy and the lever; the boy froze in fear. "It's so adorable," the Master crooned. "I do appreciate courage, you know."
"G-good. That's good," the boy stammered. "I'm still covered in holy water. You can't touch me..."
The Master smiled and leaned closer to him. "I can't touch you without hurting myself," he said softly. "There's a difference."
The Master raised his hand to strike. One swift jab into the eye would take care of this one. As his arm flashed forward, Angelus crashed into him, and only the Master's nail managed to damage the boy, cutting a long gash under the eye. The Master growled in fury at Angelus' insolence as they rolled across the floor. Angelus should be happy that his child was the Anointed One. Even if it did mean his own death.
When they'd finished rolling, Angelus swung himself up on top and dug his fingers into the soft part of the Master's throat until nails pierced skin like fangs. Angelus must have been going for pain, but it was as if he had forgotten that among vampires, the sensation was closer to erotic.
The Master chuckled. "Going to commit patricide, Angelus?" While the stallion had grown in strength, he was still no match for the Masters accumulated power. He wove his arms between Angel's and threw them off with a grunt of effort. When Angelus maintained his balance, the Master added a blow to the gut made him double over and the Master threw Angelus off, sending him crashing into the metal railing.
"Wouldn't be the first time," Angelus groaned as he forced himself up to meet the Master's oncoming attack.
"Angel!" someone called behind the Master.
The Master threw a punch that Angelus managed to dodge by a hairsbreadth.
Angelus looked at the Master. "Rain check?" he asked, and dashed under an incoming blow, still clutching at his stomach with one arm.
The Master whirled around to see Angelus darting into a hallway where the sorcerer stood, with his eyes wide with panic.
"Very well," the Master said, licking blood off of his claw. "Run for now. When I return, you won't want to run anymore." Perhaps all five victims needed to be in the room before the Master killed them anyway. Prophecies could be such touchy things. He turned and made for the double doors.
He could smell Angelus' panic from there, but then he heard the sorcerer whisper, "No, Angel, we locked the door, remember?"
The Master almost laughed. Like a lock could stop him. He reached the door and gave it a mighty push.
It rattled delicately.
Snarling, he attacked the door, pushing and pulling and slamming his full strength against the wood and glass. But it would not budge.
He spun back and spotted the sorcerer, still standing in the doorway with Angelus beside him and the two humans behind them. The sorcerer reached into his pocket and pulled out a key, never taking his eyes off of the Master. "Get ready to run," he whispered. "We're taking the first left behind me. And then an immediate right."
The Master snarled again and in a last attempt, threw his fists against the door, each hit resounding loudly around the room, echoing with deep booms through the labyrinthine halls. The door simply would not open. What magic was this?
He needed that key. It was a magnificent thing, the Master thought, how much faster vampire were than humans.
He turned and ran at the sorcerer.