~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Cordelia noticed the message light blinking on her answering machine; excitedly she pressed the play button.
“Kathleen,” Angel’s recorded voice plead, irritably Cordelia his the skip button and turned away.
Behind her the play button depressed itself again, restarting the message. “I can’t deal with him right now, Phantom Dennis,” Cordelia stated, cutting off Angel’s voice again.
Cordelia’s ghostly roommate started the message a third time. “What! You side with him just because you’re both dead?” Cordelia snapped stopping the message again.
Insistently Dennis pressed play once more. “Arrg!!” Cordelia exclaimed hitting erase on her answering machine. “I told you not now Dennis!”
Cordelia’s radio turned on and tuned itself to a dark mournful song.
“I’ll go check on him tomorrow,” Cordelia promised. “But I just can’t deal with him now, okay Dennis?”
After an hour of doors slamming, funeral music being played on her radio and finally having the hot water cut off in her shower, Cordelia resentfully decided to go check on Angel.
______________________________________________________________
Angel woke slowly. His arms ached. He was chained to the wall behind him he realized. Groggily he stood, taking his weight off his arms.
The room he found himself in was pitch black, even vampiric eyesight couldn’t pierce the darkness. The air smelled sterile, recycled. He couldn’t hear any sounds.
“What do you want with me?” Angel yelled. Not even an echo answered him.
______________________________________________________________
“Sensory deprivation, an interesting choice,” Lindsey commented.
“I took the distractions he fills his head with away,” Darla replied. “I left Angel without his normal protections from what’s in his mind. He said I couldn’t make him happy, that I was incapable of freeing him of his soul. Maybe he’s right; in that case I’ll just have to destroy it. To that end I thought I’d give him some uninterrupted quality time with my greatest ally.”
“And who’s that?” Lindsey asked.
“His own nature. What ever Angel chooses to pretend, he is still a vampire. My boy still exists. Angelus may be constrained by his soul, but he’s still there. All those dark lovely desires are still there, waiting to come out and play.”
______________________________________________________________
“Angel!” Cordelia yelled, pounding on the dark haired vampire’s door.
Sleepily Anya poked her head out of a room several doors down. “He’s not in, so cut it out. I want to sleep.”
“Where is Angel?” Cordelia demanded.
“He was gone when I got back from meeting Xander at the bus stop. How should I know,” the ex-demon replied.
“Angel’s in trouble again?” Xander asked, joining Anya and Cordelia at the door.
Cordelia took in Xander and Anya’s sleeping arrangements with a look of irritation. “He’s probably just drunk again, or with a girl,” she said. “When did you get back?”
“Around five,” Xander replied.
“Arrrg, I’m going to strangle him!” Cordelia yelled. “He promised he wouldn’t go into the tunnels until his memories came back. He’s going to get lost or hurt. Why couldn’t he just stay put?”
“Isn’t it the side-kicks who are supposed to be in constant need of rescuing?” Xander asked.
“Maybe he hasn’t gotten over hanging out with Buffy yet,” Cordelia remarked. “Lets go save him. I’ll call Wesley and Gunn.”
______________________________________________________________
“Hello Angelus,” Darla said opening the door to Angel’s cell. The vampire shied back at the sudden influx of light.
“What do you want with me?” Angel asked.
“I want my boy back,” Darla said, approaching Angel. “I want you.” Placing her hand on Angel’s shoulders the slight blond rose on tiptoe to kiss him. Aggressing she forced her tongue between his lips.
The warmth of her body was all wrong; Darla was supposed to be cool, dead, like him. Angel could feel the blood pulsing through her veins, it made him want to bite her.
Darla unbuttoned his shirt and scratched her nails over is bared chest, leaving thin red welts across his pale skin.
Angel couldn’t deny that he knew this, knew her, her scent, her taste, her touch, all so familiar.
It was like a dam breaking in his mind, Darla and carnage and blood. Having sex with her amid wars and natural disasters, screams echoing around them. Licking their victim’s still warm blood from each other’s bodies. A woman crying out in nonsensical phrases, her voice filled with horror as they fucked practically on top of her. Blood and death and chaos.
As the memories came Angel’s arousal turned to nausea. “Oh god, I’m gonna throw up,” Angel muttered, his head banging against the wall as he jerked back from Darla.
Darla stepped away and watched in fury as Angel doubled over as much as the chains would allow, gagging and choking. Once he’d emptied his stomach, Darla punched him as hard as she could then turned and walked out, shutting Angel in the dark and the silence with his memories of soullessness.
______________________________________________________________
"We’ll scout the tunnels,” Wesley said. “A few hours before dawn we should check the jail as well. Given Angel’s recent behavior he may end up arrested for drunkenness. We have to be sure he’s not trapped without adequate shelter from the sun.”
“We should check near any bars he could have walked to,” Xander added. “I’ve seen Spike passed out drunk, if Angel makes that level it won’t matter if he’s trapped or not, he could die before he’s coherent enough to look for shelter.”
“Excellent idea,” Wesley replied.
“When we find him, we’re getting the old Angel back,” Cordelia stated. “I don’t care how we do it, magic, have him read the Watcher’s diaries, bring Spike back for a memory lane thing or just beat him over the head till he remembers, I don’t care, but I’m not doing this again.”
“Agreed,” Wesley said. “But first we have to get him back.”
______________________________________________________________
“I remember Angel was bothered by memories of our victims screams,” Darla said.
“We could pipe some in for him,” Lindsey replied.
“Yes, that would be nice. Add some fresh blood to the room as well, scent is supposedly the sense most directly linked to memory,” Darla commented.
“Darla, you do remember that we want him soulless, not completely insane,” Lindsey said. “Another Drucillia wouldn’t suit our purposes.”
“Dru was human when Angelus began his games with her, Angel isn’t,” Darla remarked. “There’s already a demon in him. The part of Angel that we both want will revel in these memories, the rest will wither and die.”
______________________________________________________________
“I’m growing bored,” Darla pouted.
Her newest child smiled charmingly at her, that smile had won him invitations to more than one house in the village. Even Peggie, the barmaid who’d sworn not a week before Liam’s death that she never wanted to see him again had sleepily granted the fledgling vampire access to her bedroom when he’d come tapping at her window in the dead of night. Like all the others she’d written off his visitation as a dream or a drunken hallucination.
“I intend to have them all,” the creature that had been Liam said. “The whole village.”
“Not every family has a drunkard or an impressionable young thing smitten with your charms,” Darla said. “You have more than enough invitations.”
“Patience, we’ve only a dozen houses left, and those invitations will be quite entertaining to obtain.” The young vampire grinned maliciously as he thought of how he intended to gather those last few invitations.
______________________________________________________________
Angel hung limply against the chains, the pain in his arms forgotten in the horrifying knowledge that the nightmares were truly memories.
Remembering the gleeful inventiveness he’d employed to obtain those final twelve invitations. It had been a game, finding out just what the human body could withstand. All of them had quickly been over come with terror and pain. The old priest had lasted the longest, inviting the demon into his household after a half-hour of torture. Their acquiescence hadn’t spared them any pain though.
The demon Liam had become had tortured each and every one of them to the death, because he’d enjoyed it. Angel could remember enjoying it, even as the memories turned his stomach.
The sounds of screams and the smell of blood permeating the cell set the stage for the remaindered of his life in Galway.
______________________________________________________________
The two-week-old vampire prowled through the shadows of Galway, a contented smirk turning his beautiful face into something frightful. He didn’t even need the glowing eyes and sharp fangs o show the monster hidden in his body, that smiled showed what he had become without assistance.
Everywhere he went he over heard talk of his deeds. For the last three days the people of Galway had been finding parts of his victims. They were terrified and he hadn’t even started yet. There wasn’t a structure within ten miles that he couldn’t enter. They had nowhere to run, nowhere to hide, and they had no clue of what was to come. Now was his time.
Throwing off his cloak, the young vampire strode boldly through the town. He could feel Darla, his sire and lover, watching him. Pride and a sense of awe filled her gaze; he was more than she’d ever dreamed.
He loved the way she looked at him. Never once had he even seen acceptance, let alone pride in his mortal Father’s eyes, but the things he’d had no hope of winning from his father, Darla gave him unstintingly. In her eyes he was not a “terrible disappointment,” to Darla he was a success beyond her wildest dreams. The pretty, wastrel boy had become a vicious, cunning killer without peer.
The demon had purged every trace of humanity from him leaving behind a creature of pure evil, and he’d decided Galway would pay for knowing he’d ever been a loathsome, pathetic, abused, unhappy human, for knowing he’d been weak.
Tonight they began paying. He walked to the tavern, unmindful of who saw him. He didn’t care who recognized their destroyer now.
He moved through the tavern with an inhuman speed, slaughtering all those who gathered there, painting the walls with the blood he couldn’t drink.
Afterwards he walked through the village, selecting houses at random and killing all who dwelled there. Toward dawn he retreated, leaving the people of Galway to awake and discover the horror their lives had become.
He and Darla passed the day in a blissful haze of sex, utterly gorged on blood.
When the setting sun had freed the two vampires of they’re shelter, he’d decided to visit his old home before picking up where he’d left off.
All told, it had taken four days, but when Darla and the blasphemously christened Angelus had left Galway, not a soul had remained alive to tell the tail.
______________________________________________________________
“You guys aren’t actually that good at being detectives are you?” Anya commented. “I mean you can’t even find your boss.”
“We usually have clients or visions to get clues from,” Cordelia replied tartly.
“Well you’d have clues if you hadn’t erased the phone message Angel sent you,” Anya pointed out.
“You didn’t need to bring that up,” Xander said, noting the misery in Cordelia’s eyes.
“Dennis wanted me to listen to it, if I’d just paid attention,” Cordelia said. “But I was just so mad at Angel.”
“Dennis heard the message!” Wesley said a look of realization on his face.
“But he can’t talk,” Cordelia said.
“However he can move things,” Wesley replied.
“Oh! We could get him one of those owie boards,” Cordelia exclaimed.
“Ouji Boards, and yes that would be the traditional method, but I was actually thinking of getting him one of those refrigerator poetry sets, they’re much cheaper.”
“Alright lets do it,” Xander said.
______________________________________________________________
Crack!… Crack!… Crack!… Angel’s head banged back against the wall with a rhythmic intensity. The pain radiating from the back of his skull was a welcome distraction from the memories trickling into his consciousness, a constant inescapable stream of horrors filling his mind.
Unconsciousness would be a blessed escape, but he couldn’t get the leverage to bash his head into the wall hard enough to win release. Still the pain was a distraction.
He could focus on the thin streams of blood working their way along his scalp, the lines of pain radiating from the impact point, the faint grating of bone against bone where he’d managed to fracture his skull before they’d shortened the chains. All were preferable to remembering.
______________________________________________________________
Wesley, Cordelia, and Xander clustered around Cordelia’s table, staring intently at the shifting pile of magnetic words, waiting nervously for Dennis to find the words he needed. Anya wandered about the apartment, poking into Cordelia’s things.
The word “Taken” separated itself from the pile then “Soul,” The trio stared at the two words Dennis had set aside in horror. “Not this again!” Cordelia exclaimed. “It’s getting old.”
“Want” was put to the side with an “s”. Dennis picked up the word “Darling” and examined it for a few moments before adding it to his selected words with a letter “a”, Cordelia spotted the word “Angel” and offered it to Dennis, he took it eagerly.
Then the pile of words was shoved aside, the ones Dennis selected arranged themselves into sentences.
“Darling took Angel,” Cordelia read. “What?” Then Dennis dropped the letter “a” on top of the word “Darling”.
“Darla took Angel,” Wesley corrected. “Wants soul,” he finished reading the rest of Dennis’ message.
“Okay, who’s surprised?” Xander asked.
“Well we’ve found Darla before,” Cordelia said.
______________________________________________________________
He couldn’t stay here, Angel thought hysterically. Not in this place with only his memories and occasional visits from his tormentor, he had to get out.
Angel pulled against the manacles. They were solidly cemented into the wall, no give there. He pulled again, harder; the bones in his hands grated together, cuts reopened were the metal pressed against the side of his hands. Pain didn’t matter, pain was good, it kept him from thinking. He had to get free, Angel thought, continuing to pull against the chains with all his strength. He screamed as flesh and bone gave way beneath the pressure, allowing him to fall to his knees.
“Escape, escape, escape,” The word echoed through his mind, every thought focused on that goal. When the door cracked open several hours later Angel didn’t hesitate, he pulled Darla against his chest, wrapping one arm around her throat, cutting off her air. Darla struggled against him, but her human strength didn’t make an impact.
Carrying her with him, Angel moved thought the halls warily.
“I know you won’t kill her,” Lindsey said, confronting Angel.
The dark haired vampire snarled, tightening his grip on Darla.
“She has a soul now,” Lindsey said. “Darla is human, she has a second chance. You wouldn’t want to take that from her would you?”
“I want out,” Angel growled.
“Okay, I can see that,” Lindsey said in an eminently reasonable tone of voice.
“Now!” Angel demanded.
“Will you return Darla unharmed?” Lindsey asked.
The deep rumbling growl that answered him startled Lindsey. “The exit’s this way,” he said.
Lindsey led Angel to an entrance to the tunnels below Wolfram and Hart. “We try to accommodate all our clients’ needs,” he commented.
Angel threw Darla to him then vanished into the tunnels below the city.
“Why did you let him go?” Darla rasped angrily.
“Too much risk,” Lindsey replied. “We’ll have another chance at Angel.”
______________________________________________________________
“Your problems are solved,” Gunn announced when Cordelia answered the phone. “One of the guys picked-up Angel wandering around the tunnels. You got lucky, it was one of the ones who knows our friendly vampire, most of my team stake first and ask question never.”
“Is he okay?” Cordelia asked.
“Banged up around the edges, pretty shook up, but hey, he was on his feet,” Gunn replied. “I’ll bring him by after sunset.”
next