DISTRIBUTION: Alternate realities and anyone who asks. (If it helps at all I'm gonna say Yes!)
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DISCLAIMER: Angel, Cordy and Wesley are property of Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, FOX, the WB
... basically everybody who's not me.
Chapter 8
"Shannon," a cool hand fell on the girl's shoulder, startling her from a light doze. She turned to find Angel standing behind her chair. "Why don't you go ahead downstairs and get some rest. You're not going to be able to help if you're exhausted."
Shannon nodded wearily in agreement. "Alright. I just want to finish this page first. This chapter seemed like it might be more helpful than the rest." She gestured toward the growing pile of books at her feet.
Angel attempted to scowl disapprovingly, but couldn't help but to smile. A full night's research hadn't brought them any new information, still, Shannon refused to be discouraged. Dark circles still ringed her eyes, but there was something there Angel hadn't seen before - hope.
An icicle of a chill ran up Shannon's spine. She shivered involuntarily.
"Are you okay?"
Shannon shook her head as if to clear it. "I think so. Maybe I should let you finish this, though." As she stood, the ground suddenly seemed to shift under her feet. The room spun violently, and she reached out to the desk for support.
"Shannon!" Angel's voice traveled to her through a tunnel, almost obscured completely by the sound of a scream which she vaguely realized was hers. The cry died with an abrupt, strangling sound as a wave of muscle spasms wracked her body. She was aware of being lifted, felt strong arms wrap around her in an attempt to keep her from hurting herself or someone else. Green eyes met Angel's brown, and she saw there fear and helplessness. His lips formed words she couldn't hear.
"Wesley! Cordelia!" Angel held the trembling girl in his arms. "Hold on, Shannon. Just hold on."
Shannon focused in on Angel's eyes. She couldn't hear, couldn't move, but as long as she could stay keep her eyes focused into this world she might stay sane. A second attack of convulsions struck, more powerful than the first. Her eyes closed as she fought against the pain. When she opened them again, the world had gone black.
A low moan gurgled up from her throat, accompanied by dark laughter in the distance. Then the lights came on again, and Shannon found herself trapped in a land of eternal nightmares.
* * * * *
Wesley shook his head as he removed the stethoscope from his ears. "Her heart is racing so fast I can barely count the pulse, and her breathing is extremely shallow. I'm not sure how much more of this she can survive in her weakened condition." He looked back to the frail form lying on Angel's bed, trembling under the covers.
"He's laughing at us, Wesley. He's right here in this room, killing her right in front of us. And we can't do anything to stop him!" Angel's fist struck the brick wall hard enough to make a sizable dent.
"Easy there." Wesley touched him on the shoulder, but the vampire shook him off. When Angel turned, his face was contorted into the feral image of the demon inside him. "This is exactly the reaction the cura demon is hoping for. You can't let him get to you."
"We're not dealing with some schoolyard bully here," Angel retorted. "Ignoring him won't make him go away!"
"And that is why it is imperative that we keep level heads through this. We can't out-fight this one, Angel. We have to out-think it." Wesley breathed a sigh of relief when he saw Angel relax and the vampiric features fall from his face. He had seen Angel's "game face" several times in the past, but it never ceased to unnerve him.
"Good point. We have to think the way it thinks." Angel began to pace about the room. "Shannon's been here all day, but this is the first time its attacked. Why?"
"The cura is an extremely malicious creature. They enjoy participating in the pain and torment of others. Perhaps it wanted to give her a chance to find a bit of hope before it destroyed her."
"Maybe," Angel didn't sound convinced. "But still there's the question of timing. Why that particular moment? Why not strike when she was alone? The demon wouldn't want us around to help her, and we were all together up there doing ..."
"Research," Wesley finished.
"We were getting too close to something." Angel strode toward the stairs.
"And once again, I'm two steps ahead of you guys." Cordelia's voice echoed down the stairwell. When she reached the bottom she handed the volume she was carrying to Wesley. "Shannon was on page 213. Check out what you find when you turn the page."
Wesley flipped through the musty pages. "Here we are ... Exorcism of the Cura. We need to create a circle of protection with fire, water, air and earth. Quite standard, actually. Burning of moss herbs and twice blessed sage ... Oh dear."
"What? What's wrong?" Angel's voice was full of urgency.
"Well, the spell is fairly simple, and I can perform most of it." Wesley closed the book and walked to Shannon's side, taking her trembling hand in his. "But the incantation must be spoken by the cura's intended victim."
Chapter 9
"Cordelia, are you sure you want to do this?"
"For the last time Wesley, yes!" Cordelia said with determination. "First off, you're the one working the spell. If something goes wrong you need to be conscious and able to fix it. Secondly, there's a chance the spell could work some nasty mojo on Angel's curse, and that's the last thing we need." She paused to see if anyone would argue with her. "Good. That's settled. Now, lets go over this one more time, from the top."
Wesley was uncomfortable with the situation, but there appeared to be no other solution. "Right then. You and Shannon will sit here on the floor, and I shall begin the spell. When my preparations are complete I will signal to you, and you will read the chant I have written down for you."
Cordelia accepted the sheet of paper Wesley offered her. "And that'll create a bond so that Shannon can suck up my energy?"
"Not exactly. She doesn't ... suck anything. It's hard to explain, but basically it's a merging of life forces. You each share with the other. Theoretically she should gain enough strength from you to complete the spell and vanquish the demon. But ..."
"But since we're sharing each other's energy it probably won't be that pleasant for me." Cordelia said softly.
"And this is all just a theory." Wesley looked at the floor. "It might not work, and I'm afraid that if this backfires you may fall prey to the Cura as well." A moment of complete silence followed. Wesley broke the awkward tension by continuing. "Now, it is imperative that you remain in physical contact with Shannon at all times. The bond we are creating is not entirely stable, and any loss of connection will probably kill you both."
Angel had been standing in the corner of the room for quite some time, sometimes watching Cordelia and Wesley, sometimes the waif of a girl dying on his bed. "Cordelia," he finally spoke up, startling both his companions. "You don't have to do this."
"Yes I do." She crossed the room to look up into his face. "I've watched you give of yourself time and time again. You never hesitate to risk your life to save someone else's. I've lived my whole life thinking of no one but me, myself, and I. It's my turn now."
Angel frowned, but looked at Cordelia with newfound respect. In over 200 years, he had never seen anyone make this kind of character transformation in such a short time. He nodded his assent.
"Okay, good." She turned back to Wesley. "Let's get this over with before I come to my senses and change my mind.
* * * * *
The room was still as death. Angel had pushed his bed into the far corner to allow Wesley room to work. Cordelia sat in the middle of the floor, with four unlit candles marking the directional points surrounding her. Shannon's head lay cradled on her lap.
Wesley consulted his book one last time, then moved to the candle positioned directly in front of Cordelia. A nod from the girl to show she was ready, a look to his employer standing in the corner for strength and support, and he began.
"Hail to the Guardians of the Watchtowers of the East,
Power of Air!
We implore thee, grant us thy protection."
Wesley bent to retrieve a small bundle of herbs at his feet. After lighting them he walked slowly around the circle, creating a ring of smoke that hung eerily in the air instead of dissipating. Returning the herbs, he continued to the next point.
"Hail to the Guardians of the Watchtowers of the South,
Power of Fire!
We implore thee, grant us thy protection."
On this trip around the circle the Englishman stopped to light the candles he had positioned earlier. He continued in this manner, calling on the Guardians of the West and sprinkling water around the circle, then the Guardians of the North and creating a ring of soil. Finally, he returned to the point at which he began. Wesley made eye contact with Cordelia and spoke.
"The circle is cast. Witness these rites done in your honor, and keep your children safe from harm."
Cordelia gasped as the flickering light of the candles suddenly burst into flames several feet high, then returned to a normal dim glow. She closed her eyes to collect herself "C'mon Cordelia, lets pull ourselves together here." With that final mental affirmation, she grasped Shannon's limp hands in hers.
"With perfect love and perfect trust
And with motives pure and just
I join my sister soul and heart
And my life to her impart."
Cordelia felt a rush of warmth move from her chest through her hands, creating an emptiness inside so great she feared her body would collapse in on itself. Almost as quickly as the void formed it was gone, filled with a bone numbing chill. For an instant Cordelia saw Shannon's private hell, and screamed.
Wesley leapt to his feet to restrain Angel as he rushed forward. "No! You can't break the circle once it's been cast or we'll lose them both!"
Slowly, the spell's energy began to equal itself. The pain and fear became less and less consuming, until Cordelia was able to find strength to open her eyes.
Green eyes locked on hers, and the two girls rose as a unit. Shannon seemed to instinctively realize what was going on around her as she dropped Cordelia's left hand to reach for the book on the floor. She began the incantation in a quavering voice.
"I call out the demon that plagues me. The one who invades my mind and shreds my soul. You who believe that you hold everything over me, when in truth you have none."
Shannon's voice grew stronger with each word, and the flames of the candles grew with her intensity. A disturbance not unlike a small storm erupted in the room, scattering papers and debris. Shannon's raised her voice to a shout.
"Power of self I hold over you!
Power of the soul which has been denied you!
Power of marrow and bone to give me strength!
Power of flesh and blood to anchor me in this world
You have no support or anchor."
Winds raged and candles flamed higher. Shannon closed her eyes and screamed at the top of her lungs.
"You are cast from this mortal plane forever!"
A flash of light, an inhuman scream, and it was over. As the winds died and the candles extinguished themselves, Cordelia and Shannon collapsed into an exhausted heap on the floor.
Chapter 10
The concert hall teemed with people. Angel managed to step on more than a fair share of toes before he gratefully slid down into his seat.
"Not quite as stealthy as we used to be, are we?" quipped the woman beside him.
"One of the disadvantages of being human," he replied with a sigh. "Although I do believe the various advantages might just outweigh the negatives."
Buffy rewarded him with an innocent look. "You wouldn't happen to be referring to one benefit in particular, would you?"
"You'd better believe it!" he laughed as he put his arm around her shoulders and pulled her close.
They had the best seats in the house; orchestra section, center, 8 rows back. To Buffy's right Cordelia and Wesley. They were engaged in their own private conversation, probably discussing arrangements for their upcoming wedding.
"So, is this girl any good?" asked Buffy.
"She is. Her music has such soul." He smiled to himself as he remembered the conversation that took place in his apartment almost five years previous.
Buffy heard the thoughtful tone in his voice and was about to question him further when the lights began to dim.
Shannon MacLeod stepped from between the curtains with perfect grace and composure, acknowledging the thunderous applause from the crowd before approaching the microphone set center stage. "Good evening. I'd like to thank you all for coming, and offer a word of explanation about the first piece on the program. Many people speak of Angels. Sometimes they mean heavenly creatures sent from God, sometimes men who go above and beyond the call of duty." She paused to find Angel's face in the crowd. "Several years ago I met my own guardian angel. He helped me to win back my life, and this piece means something special to both of us. For you, Angel."
With that she settled the violin under her chin and began to play.
The familiar opening strains of the "Grave" from Bach's Sonata in A minor echoed from wood and strings. The notes Bach heard in his head as he wrote could not have been sweeter than this. Shannon played as she had never played before, throwing every ounce of emotion, every experience, every memory into the phrasing and shaping of sound.
Angel closed his eyes and let himself be carried away as the music found it's own wings, and began to soar.
FIN
***************
Ailie McFarland
***************
WILLOW: Well, I like you. You're nice and you're funny. And you
don't smoke. Yeah, okay, werewolf, but that's not all the time. I
mean, three days out of the month I'm not much fun to be around either.
OZ: You are quite the human.
WILLOW: So I'd still, if you'd still.
OZ: I'd still. I'd *very* still.
OZ: Would it help you if I panic?
WILLOW: Yes, it'd be swell. Panic is a thing people can share in
times of crisis, and everything's really scary now, you know, and I
don't know what's going to happen and there is all sorts of things
you're supposed to get to do after high school and I was really
looking forward to doing them and now we're probably just going to
die and I'd like to feel you maybe you would ... (Oz shuts her up
with a kiss) What are you doing?
OZ: Panicing.
WILLOW: Oz...don't you love me?
OZ: My whole life, I've never loved anything else.
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