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Angel: The Series > AtS - Season Five
Angel Season 5 (Redux) by Kevin
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“We’ll need you to stay here,” Wesley said. Lorne and Cordelia were preparing for the excursion.

“Absolutely not!” Fred shouted back. “I’m not some precious flower that needs protecting, Wesley.”

“No,” Wesley said. “You’re a precious flower that knows how to open portals. If something goes wrong on the other side, we’ll need you to get us out.”

“Oh,” Fred said, somewhat pacified. “It still seems kind of wimpy.”

Gunn and Angel entered the lobby carrying several bags of equipment.

“That’s more bags than I took to Europe for a summer when I was in high school,” Cordy criticized.

“We are going to a hell dimension,” Angel said.

“Right,” Cordy said. “In that case, are you sure we have enough weapons?”

“Fred’s agreed to stay behind in case there’s trouble,” Wesley announced.

“Good,” Angel said. “Cordy, you’re with her.”

“Forget it, Buster. My visions led us this far. You’ll need them when we get there.”

“How come she gets to go?” Fred pouted.

“To an unspeakable hell dimension,” Lorne clarified. “It’s not like she’s going to spend a summer on the Mediterranean.”

“Still,” Fred said. “At least she gets out of the office.”

“I for one am happy to be staying put,” Lorne said. He looked at Angel. “I am staying put, right?”

Angel smiled. “Yes, Lorne.”

*

Cyvus Vail hadn’t aged well. Most demons of his race lived fewer years than he, but even while relatively young, Vail had the grizzled white hair and rasping voice that characterized him as an old demon wizard. The cause of his accelerated aging was his insistence that he always remain awake. Various potions, including many pumped directly into his bloodstream on a constant basis, and several spells had succeeded in staving off sleep, but not the premature signs of age that now afflicted the ancient wizard.

One could understand, then, that after so many precautions, Cyvus Vail was shocked to find himself waking up.

“Sleep,” he muttered. “Sleep? What is this . . . how . . .”

Dark magic. It was the only way. Vail had incantations performed and ointments created to prevent another wizard from casting a sleep spell on him. But that was the only explanation. Another powerful mage had done this to him.

“Carlisle! Find Annabelle.” Vail struggled to his feet. “Someone’s been sending unfriendly spells my way.”

Vail paced the room, wondering what this meant. Who had the power to attack him? Many, of course. Wolfram & Hart had been the most recent visitor with that kind of power. Vail hobbled to his vault, placed his hand on the touchpad. The door opened to show Gwen Raiden hanging from a chord. She hovered just above the urn that contained Sahjhan.

Gwen looked up at Vail in shock as the door opened. “Wow. This is embarrassing.”

Vail leaned against the door and smiled smugly. “Yes, I imagine. Although I must compliment you on your ability to get even this far.”

“Thanks.”

“Of course, I will have to kill you now.”

“You’ll have to try to kill me,” Gwen corrected.

Vail smiled and gave a slight laugh at the distinction. “Yes, of course. But I have rarely failed to dispatch a thief who sought to steal my property.”

“Steal?”

“My urn,” Vail said harshly, looking at the urn beneath her.

“Oh. I’m not stealing anything.”

“Really?” Vail said in a condescending and disbelieving voice, as if he’d caught an errant child in a weak fib. “Then whatever are you doing in my vault.”

“I’m not here to steal the urn.” Gwen removed a metal ball from her belt. “I’m here to break it.” Gwen dropped the ball and smashed the urn to pieces. She hit a tab and her chord retracted, zipping her up into the ceiling.

Gwen ripped her gear off. She didn’t bother to carry it. She simply ran for her life. Ironically, she didn’t need to worry. At that moment, Vail had a much larger problem on his hands. A problem that was materializing from mist before his eyes.

*

“Just when the forces of darkness seem at their weakest point, along comes a band of heroes to save them.”

Angel, Wesley, Cordelia and Gunn were in the dimension only a matter of minutes before they were seized and brought before Tomhosempa. She sat casually on her throne, a crown made of human skulls adorned her head. As two mouths spoke, creating a strange echoing effect, another was feasting on a screaming man whose flesh regenerated after every bite.

“We understand-” Wesley began.

“Silence, mortal. Your motives cannot be hidden from me. You have come for your friend.”

“Friend?” Angel looked at Wesley quizzically. “I thought we were here for Spike?”

Friend is overstating it,” Cordelia agreed.

“William the Bloody ceases to exist,” Tomhosempa said, all three mouths speaking now. “Only that ensouled monstrosity still bears his visage. Were he not the First’s prize, I would revel in his downfall.”

“You aren’t on friendly terms with the First, then,” Wesley inferred.

“I and the other children had nearly expelled her from this place. She was on the verge of her escape, but, weak ruler that she is, even the humans beat her back. She would have been destroyed had she not returned with her great prize.”

“Prize?” Cordy asked.

“Spike,” Wesley clarified.

Angel laughed. “If you guys wanted Spike, you could’ve just asked.”

“He was worthless as a mere vampire. A vampire with a soul, however . . . this Spike became a testament to the First’s glory. She wears his innards as a crown and carries his shell, writhing in pain and screaming in agony, every where that she goes. Luckily . . .” Tomhosempa bent her head down toward Angel, “I have you now.”

*

“Fred!” Eve shouted as she came into the lab.

Lorne, who was standing with Fred, gave a start at the shrill shout. “Here comes the cat fight.”

“Yes, Eve,” Fred answered coldly. She’d been expecting this showdown over Connor to come eventually, but really wasn’t in the mood now. “Try to make it quick. I’m kind of busy.”

“So I hear. You helped Wesley create a portal to the domain of the First?”

“What?” Fred said, shocked Eve was so well informed. “I . . . yes. I did. Not that it’s any of you business.”

“It would have been nice if you’d told me.”

“So you could stab us in the back?” Fred said.

“So I could prepare Wesley for what he’d face there. The realm is in a state of upheaval. Do you have any idea how ugly a civil war gets in a place where people don’t die?”

“If people don’t die, how can they have a war?”

“You capture your enemies and torture them for eternity,” Eve answered smugly.

“Oh,” Fred said, grossed out by the idea. “What’s that got to do with Wesley?”

“The First regained control of her dimension by offering the mid-level demons there the opportunity to torture a vampire with a soul, Spike, who she captured during her battle with the slayers. If Angel goes there, one of the First’s children, who are struggling for dominance, could offer Angel up to those demons instead.”

“Oh my god!” Fred said, growing pale.

Eve laughed. “You’re talking to the wrong person. Because if you think your god is going to that realm, you’ve got about a trillion years of demon history to catch up on. Unfortunately cupcake, it’s going to be up to us.”

“Can’t the Senior Partners help?” Lorne asked, kicking himself immediately for thinking that.

“At this moment, they’re debating whether or not Angel could use a couple hundred years in a hell dimension.”

*

“You?” Sahjhan said as he looked at Vail. “You’re the one who let me out of the urn?”

Vail was gasping for air and quaking with fear.

“Oh,” Shahn said, a little disappointed. “I get it. You got clutzy and dropped it. And here I thought we were going to have an emotional kiss-and-make-up moment. Granted, an entirely heterosexual, platonic, and manly kiss-and-make-up moment, but you get the picture.”

Vail gave a croaking laugh. “As if, after all this time, things between us could be settled as easily as that.”

“Yeah. I’d a’ probably just killed you anyway, then felt real bad about it. So thanks for being honest with me. You probably saved me a couple millennia of guilt.”

Sahjhan lunged for Vail. Vail held his hands out and Sahjhan seemed to freeze in air as Vail backed out of the vault. Vail moved to slam the vault door, but Sahjhan broke the spell and made it to the door in time to throw his hand between the door and its frame.

Vail slammed the door on Sahjhan’s arm. The blue demon let out a wail of pain. “Time was I would’ve just transported out of here,” Sahjhan groaned as he fought to keep the door open.

“Being corporeal is a double-edged sword,” Vail chuckled as he continued trying to press the door closed.

Three of Vail’s guards ran into the room and saw the struggle. They ran to Vail and helped their master push. Finally, the metal door ripped through Sahjhan’s arm and severed it. The vault door slammed shut and the bolts slid home as Sahjhan backed away from the door, screaming in agony.

“Damn it!” Sahjhan said. “It’s going to take me at least a month to grow that arm back! And where am I going to find monkshood in here.” He glanced over the items in Vail’s safe. “Oh,” he said cheerily. “There’s some.”

As Sahjhan stepped toward the supplies he needed, he noticed a draft. He looked up to see the hole Gwen Raiden had made while tunneling into the vault from above. “Smashed urn, monkshood, and a hole in the vault. This has got to rate pretty high on my list of best days ever.”

*

Two of Tomhosempa’s mouth’s were chewing on Cordelia and Wesley. Like her earlier meal, the bodies of Cordelia and Wesley painfully regenerated after each bite. A pair of minions were cutting into Angel, preparing to make a crown from his flesh and bone. Gunn, interestingly enough, had been led away and could not be seen by the others.

Cordelia gave out a particularly pained shriek.

“Cordy!” Angel shouted, wondering what was wrong.

“Vision,” she shouted back. “We’re going to be reunited with Spike soon enough.”

Tomhosempa stopped chewing on Cordy. “The First approaches,” she said with two of her mouths.

“We can help,” Wesley said, despite the pain of teeth gnawing on his ribs.

“You already have. Once I can show this realm that the first vampire with the soul is my trophy, the lower minions will flock to my banner.”

“It will take you time to prove that Angel is truly who you say. That won’t help you in this battle. Release us. We’ll help you defeat the First and strip her of her prize.”

“Can you please stop referring to Spike that way?” Angel said. “Trust me, having him around is no prize.”

Tomhosempa stopped chewing on Wesley. “What aid can you bring me? You are but four.”

“I have expertise and powers-”

“Your magicks are useless in this realm,” Tomhosempa interrupted Wesley. “And beings exist perpetually here. Your knowledge of how to destroy demons in your own world does not apply.” She raised Wesley back to he mouth and resumed her chewing. “You are useful only as trophies and toys for my minions.”

*

“Hey,” Connor said to Fred and Lorne as he entered the lab. He was dressed in street clothes, but his hair was still wet. “We won four to three. Can you guess who pulled a hat trick?”

Lorne laughed. “Sorry. It’s just, when you said hat trick I thought you meant when guys put a hat on their-”

“Anyway,” Connor interrupted Lorne. “Ready for dinner?”

“Oh no,” Fred said, looking at her watch. “I forgot.”

“Wow. So I’m that forgettable.”

“No,” Fred said in a voice that plead for Connor’s understanding. “It’s just, we’re really busy here.”

“You can’t, like, postpone your experiments or something.”

“I . . .” Fred didn’t know how to explain this to him.

“Our friends are in a hell dimension and we need to get them out,” Lorne blurted quickly.

“Lorne!” Fred yelled.

“Come on! He’s already fought zombies and vampires. There’s no use hiding this stuff from him now.”

Connor was just staring at Fred with terror in his eyes. “You’re not . . . you’re not going there. To the hell dimension. Right?”

“They’re my friends. And this is my job.”

“You’re job really sucks,” Connor said. He sat down at one of the benches. “I’m coming with you.”

“What?!” Lorne and Fred shouted.

“Listen kid,” Lorne said. “I know a little something about destiny. Your destiny isn’t to fight evil and save the world. Your destiny is to play hockey and make me lots of money.”

Connor gave him a condescending look.

“Yeah, I didn’t think that would work.” Lorne patted Fred’s back. “You’re up, kitten. Talk him out of it.”

“I don’t want you going,” Fred said.

Connor shrugged. “I don’t want you going and you’re going anyway. This makes us even.”

“This is my job!” Fred insisted.

Connor got a little flustered. “Yeah, well . . . this could be like an internship for me. I really want to explore fighting crime and saving the world as a vocation. So if we go and I like it, I’ll switch over to Wolfram & Hart’s evil fighting division. On the other hand, if I get eaten by a giant leprechaun, then we’ll know this isn’t for me.”

“This isn’t funny!” Fred shouted.

“Fred, I . . .” Connor didn’t want to think about it or talk about it. But it was the two ton elephant in the room. He stood and walked under a vent. “Halloween,” he said, pointing at the vent. “I fell, what is that? Three stories? And I survived. I fought zombies and survived. I fought vampires and survived.”

“He dated Eve and survived,” Lorne chimed in. “Sorry,” he added at their reproachful looks. “Bad timing. But at the office Christmas party, you and I are totally doing that bit.”

“Let’s face it,” Connor continued. “If you’re going to fight the devil or whatever, I’m the type of guy who can help out.”

*

“You guys have remodeled,” Sahjhan said as he stood in the Wolfram & Hart lobby. His arm was still severed as he missed a few ingredients to compliment the monkshood.

“Can I help you?” Harmony said, annoyed at having to put down her issue of Cosmo.

“I’d like to see Lilah Morgan, please.”

“Oh,” Harmony said, picking up her magazine again. “She’s dead.”

“That’s a shame. She seemed a stand up kind of gal. What happened to her?”

“I don’t know,” Harmony sighed at the interruption. “Something about a beast and her head getting cut off.”

“Well . . . who runs things now?”

“Angel.”

Sahjhan’s eyes went wide. “Angel! You mean Angelus?”

“Nope. Still has a soul. Angel.”

“Angel runs this place? Man, you guys are going downhill. I mean, that’s a big change for . . .” Sahjhan looked at a calendar on Harmony’s desk. “Two Years! They couldn’t keep me in that urn for more than two crummy years?” He looked at the nameplate on Harmony’s desk. “Things are changing, Harmony. And not for the better.”

“Tell me about it.” She put down her magazine now that there was a topic that interested her. “It wasn’t enough there used to be one vampire with a soul. My ex-boyfriend had to go and get himself a soul, too. Why? Because he’s in love with a slayer!”

Sahjhan’s expression grew grim. “There’s another vampire with a soul?”

“Of course. And now everyone’s going off on this big trip to some hell dimension to save him. If I were stuck in a hell dimension, you think any of them would come and save me?”

Sahjhan smoothed his hair back. “Well, for what it’s worth, I’d come and save you.”

Harmony’s face brightened. “Thanks!”

“So . . . you think I could get your phone number?”

As if,” Harmony held out her hand in that talk-to-the-hand sort of way. She plopped in her chair and grabbed her magazine.

“Fine,” Sahjhan said, a bit grumpily. “Can you at least tell me where a guy can go to meet up with some other evil doers?”

*

“Have I told you how much I hate this idea?” Lorne said.

Connor and Fred were standing next to him. They were standing in the alley beside the burned down remains of Caritas. Fred was preparing to open a portal. Connor was trying to remember when he might have dropped acid. He was 90% sure he was imaging this. Then the percentage got pushed up to 99.

I won’t be able to follow you.

“Fine,” Connor said. “I’d rather you not go?”

“What?” Fred asked, looking up from her preparations.

“You said you won’t be able to follow me.”

“Like hell I won’t. I’m creating the portal.”

“Oh,” Connor said, realizing it was her; the sweet, female voice that came to him. It’d been so long since the last time, he almost convinced himself he’d never heard it. It was just this weird memory.

Don’t answer me out loud.

“Okay,” Connor said.

Lorne gave Connor an odd look.

I just said don’t answer me out loud!

Connor nodded.

I won’t be there to help you, Connor.

“I’ll be right back,” Connor said. He walked around a corner to the alley behind where Caritas once stood. “I have to go.”

I understand. But I won’t be able to help you there.

“How are you supposed to help me?”

The night you fought the zombies. Do you remember that?

“Fighting zombies isn’t exactly something I consider forgettable.”

You forgot it once already.

“What?”

Connor, listen to me . . .

“Connor?” Lorne said. He was standing at the corner looking at him. “Are you okay?”

“Fine.”

“Well, if you’re done talking to yourself, we’re ready to open a portal to hell, then go through it. Just wanted to remind you one more time how stupid an idea this is.”

“Right,” Connor said. “Here we go.”

Lorne.

The demon turned casually, for some reason not at all surprised that his name was called in this alley. Then he saw the ghostly figure standing in the middle of the alley on the very spot where her vampire form had perished.

“Darla?!” Lorne said in shock.

The blonde ghost smiled sweetly. Before her death, that sweet smile was ironic, a creepy juxtaposition to the evil she had been about to do. But for some reason, Lorne found the smile to be warm and sincere and even reassuring.

You take care of my boy, now.

“Um . . . sure. Why not?” Lorne had no idea what she was talking about. He turned to leave the back alley. Turing back, he saw the alley was empty. “Great. Two minutes to a battle for our souls, and the kids smoking pot in an alley. Second hand pot smoke, Lorne. That’s all it was.”

But Lorne didn’t have the disadvantage Connor did. While so many humans were oblivious to the creatures that prowled around the edge of the mortal world, Lorne was attuned enough to the darkness to know a ghost when he saw one.

*

After the destruction of Sunnydale, Willy the Snitch had been quite worried about his employment prospects. Six moths later, “Willy’s LA” was bursting with business.

“How you doing, sexy lady,” Sahjhan said smoothly as he sat down next to the attractive brunette wearing black gloves.

“Fine big boy,” Gwen Raiden responded, cozying up to the demon.

“Big boy,” Sahjhan smiled. “I like that. Can I buy you a drink?”

“I’d love one, but I’m meeting someone.”

“Boyfriend?” Sahjhan fished for information.

“Client,” Gwen responded.

“Ohhhh. Working girl. Well, it’s been a couple centuries since I’ve had it, but I don’t think I’m desperate enough to pay for it yet.”

“Not that kind of client. I’m a procurer.”

“A what?”

“I steal things.”

“Ah! Big words. You’d think after a few hundred years of traveling time, I’d have picked up a better vocabulary.”

Gwen shrugged. “Not being in the profession yourself, you probably haven’t spent as much time coming up with euphemisms for stealing things. Plus I have a soul, so I have to come of with tricks to disavow my dirtier deeds.”

“Disavow,” Sahjhan nodded. “That one I know.”

“Big fan of ‘Mission Impossible’?”

“Only when Martin Landau and Barbara Bain were on it. After that the show went downhill.”

“I just love Martin Landau and Barbara Bain,” said a dreamy female voice with a British accent. Drusilla slid into the booth next to Gwen. “They have such a parental quality to them.”**

“Sure,” Sahjhan said. “If you were raised in a circus.”

“Sorry, handsome,” Gwen said. “Time’s up. Gwen’s gotta get down to business.”

“No worries,” Sahjhan said, standing up. “I gotta go see a guy about an arm. Maybe you’ll be here when I’m done.”

“Maybe I will,” Gwen smiled. As Sahjhan walked away, Gwen turned to Drusilla. “We gotta get out of here. I just lifted his wallet.”

“Your green paper is sleeping with the lilies,” Dru hummed.

“Excuse me.”

“I buried it,” Drusilla said, disappointed that no one ever seemed to understand her when she was speaking perfectly clearly.

“If I’m digging up my money, I’m going to have to charge extra.”

“You’ve been handsomely rewarded. Gran is quite pleased.”

“Okay, then,” Gwen said. “So where’s this money buried?”

*

Fred and Lorne tended to Angel and Spike. Connor, Cordeila, Wesley, and Gunn were fighting for their lives. They cut the demons in half, but the monstrosities almost immediately fused back together.

“Why do they keep doing that?” Connor yelled. “Why don’t they just die?!”

“This is a torture dimension,” Wesley said. “Creatures aren’t destroyed, they simply suffer indefinitely.”

“This is so completely not how I wanted to spend my summer vacation,” Cordy said.

“I hope we make it back before Saturday’s game,” Connor said. “Otherwise, Coach Murray is going to be pissed.”

“How long do we have to hold out?” Gunn asked.

“I’m waiting for the wounds Angel and Spike have to heal,” Wes shouted as he clubbed a demon with a battle axe. “If we take them back to our dimension with the injuries they have now, they’ll probably die.”

“I’m good!” Spike shouted as he tried to shove his intestines back into the gaping wound in his stomach. “Head and heart are fine. The rest we can just duct tape in or something.”

“What about Angel?” Fred asked.

“I’m sure Angel would love to sacrifice himself for all his dear, dear friends,” Spike said.

“Cute,” Cordy shouted.

“He’s right,” Angel grunted. Angel would have given his life for any one of these people. Sacrificing himself for all of them was a no-brainer. “Go!”

“Nice try,” Fred said. “But until I’m sure that your heart has sealed shut and is reattached to the rest of you, we’re not going anywhere.”

“What kind of nut job wears a heart as a pendant?” Lorne shook his head.

“Pendant?” Spike said. “The first jabbed its stubby finger through my heart and wore it like a ring.”

“I’m good!” Angel grunted. “I’m good, I’m fine, I’m ready to go. Those four can’t hold the entrance to this cave forever.”

Angel struggled to his feet, as did Spike. They limped forward. Spike picked up a club and Angel pulled the axe from Wesley’s hands. “Go help with the portal,” Angel said.

*

“I have to go to the meeting,” Fred giggled as she pulled away from Connor. “And you have to go to practice.”

Despite the injuries sustained in the hell dimension, Connor was feeling kind of up. He was still on a major adrenaline high. Angel and Spike, on the other hand, were still in surgery as demon physicians worked to repair their substantial wounds.

“We have a little time,” Connor said as he tried to pull her back.

“Not enough for what seems to be on your mind.”

Connor arched an eyebrow. “Don’t give me too much credit. It could all be over pretty fast.”

Fred laughed again. She kissed his cheek and headed out of the infirmary where she’d been visiting him. As she entered the meeting room, her demeanor was much more serious.

“Are we ready?” Cordelia asked. She was sitting next to Lorne.

“My part’s done,” Fred answered. “It’s up to Wesley now.”

“What’s with the spy talk?” Lorne asked. “And why am I suddenly out of the loop.”

“You’re all out of the loop,” Cordy said. “You have been for months. But I’m about to fix that.”

Wesley entered the room. “It’s ready.” He removed a box from the pouch he was carrying. It was a small, cubical box roughly the size of two fists. It had a metal frame with light beige covering.

“Pretty box,” Lorne said.

“It should be,” Fred said. “We had to go through a lot of trouble to make it.”

“What’s it for?” Lorne asked.

“We’re going to smash it,” Wesley answered him gravely.

**Inside joke. Does anyone get it?


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