Go TeamC/A

Title: Outrospective
Author: Trillian/Hesperus
Posted: 27/08/03. REPOSTED: Feb 8 2004
Email
Rating: NC17
Category: Angst. cross-over fic with BtVS & AtS between seasons 2-3
Content: Cordelia/Angel
Summary: “The sands of time run thin.”
Spoilers: ATS seasons 1&2
Disclaimer: The characters in the Angelverse were created by Joss Whedon & David Greenwalt. No infringement is intended, no profit is made.
Distribution: GT, AO and JF
Notes: The one-liners in italics after each chapter heading, are taken from the Levellers song, ‘Dance before the storm’.
Thanks/Dedication:This is for Amanda- my very own stalker! Reposting the first bits again as they have been slightly amended. Thanks muchly to La for the beta. Here we go....
Feedback:if you must




Prologue

"And you dance before the storm..."

London, England 1762

“…every man wants to be a tyrant when he fornicates.”- Marquis De Sade

The woman screamed in abject agony as the knife was dragged slowly down and across her back. Hours of abuse and torture had left her bereft of any semblance of self and she was surprised at her own ability to still scream. The light from the remaining candles, cast ugly and tainted shadows around her bedchamber, illuminating her aggressor’s form. The caricature of him bouncing off the walls, made him seem impossibly iniquitous, more than she already knew him to be. Her body baring the testament of his depraved games.

“That’s it darlin’, scream for me.” Angelus mockingly tapped her ass, “I’m almost done.”

She whimpered and shook beneath him, making him tighten his hold and push her further into the bed.

“Careful or you’ll make me miss and I’ll have to start all over again.” The cold calmness his voice emanated made the hairs on the nape of her neck rise.

She felt his weight finally lift slightly off of her back, watching out the corner of one bruised eye as he lay the bloodied knife on the bedside table beside her. She hissed as he spun her around onto her now shredded back and roughly pulled her legs apart. Pushing himself into her, Angelus relished the pain in her eyes and the noise she tried to impart into the room through her scrapped vocal chords.

“All done now, sweetheart.” He started to move his hips, finding a rhythm that only pleased him. “Apart from this one last thing...” and without further preamble, he allowed his face to change and bit heavily into her neck, gorging himself on her life. Angelus felt the woman under him flinch slightly as he pulled her head back by her hair and slit his wrist, forcing the blood to drip over her parted lips.

“Drink…” he mumbled before releasing himself into her, completely sated in his own tyranny; finally allowing her to succumb to the darkness that she had tried vainly to find hours ago.

When he came back with Darla hours later to enjoy the new vampire he had created, all they found in the room was the echo of his carving bled into the sheets on the bed.

***

Lord Westford’s Manor. Kent, South East England. New Years Eve, December 2000

The path that wound through the woods was well worn. Well enough to be followed, but not so obvious that the undergrowth didn’t still attack your legs on occasion and tonight, the path was especially busy. People were parking up in the nearest village, their varying methods of transport overtaking the local pub’s car park and overflowing around the market cross. The patrons walked the trail, loaded down with alcohol and other appropriate substances to see the new millennium in, slowly making their way to the path’s destination. Eventually, the police would catch wind of what was going on, but probably not for hours, leaving plenty of time to party. The dull, repetitive thud of bass was beginning to come into hearing, the sound magnifying with each step; wrapping around the excited and constant chatter of people.

Two hundred years ago, this should have been her place of rest; one, among her many ancestors. But something, or rather, some-one had irrevocably changed that for her. She turned to look at her companion, chasing the unbidden and unwanted past away. He caught her gaze and held it, allowing a small smile of understanding to grace his lips. He held his hand out to her and she took it, allowing him to pull them into the approaching clearing as they finally left the trees behind. The music was now a pounding crescendo and the night was broken by the beams of light that were escaping from the confines of the building, which for tonight, was their Mecca.

The structure was a mausoleum, the pyramidal roof the only mark above the ground. A symbol of dynastic pride, pious respect, and love, she paused to take in the ambience and took in a long deep breath, exhaling slowly and shaking her head a little as if to clear the cobwebs.

“Can you feel it?” Her companion asked, stopping slightly behind her.

“It’s here.” She replied, moving a step towards it. “Fancy a dance?”

“Only ever with you.”

She smiled at the compliment and reached back with her hand for him. He held on tight and together they descended the steps to the interior of the building.

***

Prague, Czech Republic. New Years Eve, December 2000.

The vampire ran. He could hear its pursuers falling away as he continued in full, supernatural flight. Relaxing his state for just a second, he paused at the corner of the alley before reaching into his pocket. ‘Good, still got it’ He turned the object over and over in his hand, ‘Close…so God damned close’. Allowing himself one more furtive look back, he ran across the square, merging into the throngs of people celebrating the beginnings of the true millennium.

Just as the vampire emerged unseen from the other side of the crowds and disappeared into the night, the pursuers reached the corner of the alley. Most of them were panting, doubled over in an effort to recapture lost oxygen into their frantic bodies. One still stood tall, eyes narrowed in disgust at the result of their well laid plans. He cursed swiftly and motioned impatiently to one of the others. “Damno! Shit…give me your phone”

***

Hyperion Hotel. January 2001.

Wesley slowly came to. His sleep had been fragmentary at best, probably something to do with the bloody hard desk he was slumped on. As his mind lifted from its fog he tried to catch hold of the whispers that seemed to fill the air around him, fleeting through his sub-conscious; what was that language? …he knew it. His brain grabbed feebly at the snatches of phrases but they blew through his ears and he eventually blinked, finally focusing on the polished wood of the desktop in the office.

His hand reached automatically for his glasses and he sat, straightening his poor back. He eventually stood and picked his mug up, heading for the lobby- there was always coffee in the lobby. The tea would just have to wait, he was gasping. Wandering back to the office, he picked up the scroll he had been working on for most of the night. Sipping his coffee, he re-read the Latin text.

‘In terrorem haud iganata loquor hic et nunc incipit locus sigilli quaere verum respice finem sic itur ad astra venire facias in artuclomortis lachrymal angelus.’

The Latin was bad and incomplete, but he surmised that whoever had written it had been in some distress and in a hurry; they usually were and the English translation was coming along just as beautifully iffy.

‘As a warning, I say things that are known here and now. Begin here, the place of the seal, seek the truth, look to the end. Such is the way to the stars. You must make come at the moment of death… angels tears.’

Quite. That cleared that up then. Clear as bloody mud. Sighing, he placed his mug down and decided to go home to freshen up, taking the scroll and his work with him.

***

Cordelia Chase’s Apartment.

Cordelia slowly and quietly opened the door to her bedroom and held her breath. She released it almost immediately at the silence pervading the building and at the body slouched outside her door. In fact, on her way to the bathroom, she stepped over numerous bodies, the living room was filled with them; and in the middle of them all, upside down on her couch was a vampire. She’d already found Gunn in her kitchen asleep on the table, Dennis very carefully cleaning up around him. But where were Wesley and Fred? She put her hand to her head - what a party! What a night! It had been absolutely brilliant, even Angel appeared to have enjoyed himself. The drunker he got the worse his stories became and he and some of Gunn’s friends appeared to have had a good chat about past conquests, their tales getting more lecherous and lewd as the party continued into the early morning.

And she’d thought vampires were nasty. Hmm.

Thank God for Dennis though. He must have cleared up most of the remains from last night already, apart from the human ones, of course. She chuckled, gave a sigh, and went back into her bedroom to get dressed and wait for everyone else to wake up.

She didn’t have to wait long.

A loud crash came from the kitchen as Gunn rolled too far to the right, fell off the table and face planted into the floor. Angel woke with a start and tried to get a grip on his bearings, the muffled cursing from the other room making others come round with him. His tongue scrapped the roof of his mouth experimentally and his head was starting to vibrate nicely. He found he couldn’t actually sit up from this position and just as he was debating how to swing his legs over his head with the minimum of fuss and effort, a pair of bare feet and legs came into view.

‘Hel-lo....’ He thought.

“Morning.” Said the legs.

“Morning, Cordelia.” He replied

“Need some help?”

“Please…I appear to be… stuck…”

She snorted and he felt her take hold of his legs to move them off the back of the couch. Unfortunately- or not, depending on your point of view and right now, his point of view was first-rate; he could see straight up her skirt. And she smelt absolutely…his nostrils flared… divine. He mentally chastised himself as his legs fell with a thud on the ground, his body twisting on the floor and away from Cordelia’s crotch. But he told himself he couldn’t help it. It was just…there.

See, that’s what three months with the demon monks will do for you; have you leering at your best friend. Should’ve gone to Vegas.

The legs were leaving, replaced by boots and a gravelly voice,

“Man, you okay?”

Angel twisted so he was finally sitting upright. The room spun a bit before he focused on Gunn who was now leaning against the couch on the floor with him. He chanced a sideways look to see if his friend had witnessed his little indiscretion, only to find him half smiling.

“Dog, I woulda done it.”

The statement let him know that he had. Strangely embarrassed, Angel wasn’t quite sure what to feel about that, so he just returned the half smile. Noticing that other people were now awake and talking amongst themselves about last night, a thought came to mind.

“What happened to Wes?” He asked Gunn, watching bottles and cigarette butts float into a bin sack.

“Took Fred to the hotel. Never came back.”

The conversation was about to resume when a loud enraged yell emerged from the kitchen.

“Okay! What joker put dishwashing liquid in my washing machine?”

Silence reigned as everyone watched suds seep into the living room.

“Shit.”

Gunn looked at Angel in surprise and they both started to laugh as the bubbles washed up against their feet


Day 1.

And don't look back to where you've been…

945 BCE Babylon

"And thus what you call havoc, deadly sin , or briefly stated: Evil, that is my proper element."-Goethe's Faust

Fighting with the last vestige of their power, the supernatural screaming of the four demons was starting to drown out the constant chanting of the priests that encircled them. The doors to the temple blasted open as an unholy wind unleashed itself, slamming the temple guards against the walls.

“Be split, be accursed, broken and banned!” Yelled Solomon, fighting for control with the parchments in his hands.

The wind turned itself into a vortex, swirling around the demons and knocking the priests backwards. With their final screams, the vortex delivered each demon into a brass vessel and died out. Solomon dropped the scrolls and scrambled forward; sealing each pot with his ring, engraving each vessel with the demons’ own mark.

Secure in the knowledge that he done all he could, he slowly rose up and looked around. The chamber they had congregated in to complete the ceremony was trashed; broken furniture littered the floor, statues to mysterious deities were smashed, no longer able to be worshipped as the idols they once were. But apart from a couple of unconscious guards and dazed priests, they appeared to have gotten off lightly. As he muttered a quick prayer of thanks to Yah’weh and suppressed the shudder at what could have been, he gave the order to the guards left standing.

“Take the vessels to the lake.”

***

Downtown LA

The fighting was strangely fierce for a vision. Demons were raging all around them, but holding their own they were.

"Tauo freim!" Said an assailant.

‘Tauo freim?’ Angel’d heard that before. Oh yeah… glove.

‘Duck, left hand swing...’ Oh yeah, he'd landed on Willow. He avoided a right hook, literally; and punched the demon on the nose with the flat of his hand. It howled.

‘Mmm...Willow.’ Angel surprised himself at his slightly lascivious thought and then doubled it when weirdly, he felt guilty for thinking of her. He drifted for a second before snapping back and blocking an oncoming blow. He thought maybe it was because of Buffy. He paused. Nope, wasn't because of her it was... He looked from the demon he'd floored towards Cordelia…and Wesley who were bickering while fighting another demon. Cordelia was pummeling said demon with the flat of her sword.

"Stay down, would you!"

"Yes. Because that always works, Cordelia."

Cordelia stopped her thwacking and turned the point of her sword blade onto her colleague. Wesley wisely backed up.

"Hey! Better than your girly prodding."

They were interrupted by a large squelch and the forgotten demon falling to the floor, followed by an equally large sucking sound as Gunn removed his own sword from its back.

"And you'd know all about Wesley's proddin’, girl."

Cordelia held Gunn’s mischievous look and graced him with a sly grin. Wesley blushed profusely and averted his eyes, only to find Angel had killed his opponent and was now frowning fiercely at him.

Cordelia caught the scowl as well, “What’s with him?”

Gunn sniggered “Maybe he’s still upset over the whole car/cat thing.”

Cordelia and Wesley joined in with smiles of their own before Wesley stated -“It wasn’t very nice of whoever locked that poor creature in his car though was it?”

“Yep. Nothing like a cat poo sausage on your leather upholstery to bring down your day.” She added, jumping slightly at a low growl coming from behind her. Without looking, she threw her right hand out and smacked Angel square in the chest with the back of her hand.

“Stop it. It wasn’t any of us.”

“God damned cat.” He intoned, rubbing his chest.

The team of four started back towards their cars, meandering past the demon parts now littering the alley. “At least your home hasn’t just hosted a foam party.” Cordelia continued.

“Yeah…Cordy…look…a-about the dishwashing liquid….” Angel started tentatively. Gunn frantically shook his head behind her. Not a good idea.

“Pfft!” Cordelia interrupted, ignoring his stammered start, “When I get my hands on the retard…that…put…it…aagh!” She screamed as the vision swamped her brain. Gunn caught her under the arms as she staggered backwards under the power of it, pushing him back a good two feet. Angel and Wesley both managed to grab a forearm each and pull her upright. Her legs buckled and it took all three of them to hold her steady.

“Cordy? Cordy? Cordelia?” Both Angel’s hands were holding her face now, willing her eyes to open and he was getting a little panicked. Two in one night? Not good. He caught Wesley’s eyes and saw the barely restrained panic there too.

“Sick. Gonna be…” She whispered, finally opening her eyes. Angel moved just as Cordelia turned her head and vomited. Gunn slowly lowered her to her knees. Angel gently pulled her hair away from her face as she continued to retch, murmuring inane words of comfort.

God, she felt rough. Her head couldn’t even translate what ever the vampire was trying to say to her, all she could hear was static. ‘This is bad Cordelia’ She told herself. ‘Pull yourself together, or their going to know; their going to know… Getupgetupgetup’ Only this time, the mantra failed and she faded into darkness.

“Shit.” Angel caught her just before she hit the floor of the alley and her own vomit.

“She’s passed out. Wesley you drive. Gunn we’ll see you back at the hotel.” He gently picked her up into his arms and strode back to the car not stopping to see if his orders had been adhered to.

For the moment, Wesley was no longer in charge.

***

1933 CE Iraq

Jeremiah Washford was not happy.

It was over a hundred degrees and he was excavating what he considered the most boring dry lakebed ever. Sitting back on his haunches, wiping the sweat from his brow, he took a long swig from the nearest water flask before reluctantly getting back to the task in hand. He continued to scrape haphazardly at the ragged topsoil until his trowel unexpectedly hit a solid mass. He pushed down his mounting excitement as he slowly started to clean back the surface and was eventually rewarded with the sight of four identical brass pots lying on their sides. With trembling hands and aided by some water from the flask, he cleaned up the sides that were exposed from the earth.

As the seals were revealed to him, he whispered in awe,

“Solomon.”

Two hours later, both the pots and Jeremiah were presented to Lord Walsingham in his tent.

“Capital, capital!” Walsingham said, shaking his hand. “This is just what the University needed. Well-done lad, well-done. Now, lets see if we can open the blighters, shall we?”

Jeremiah could only nod his agreement as one of the other dignitaries in the tent broke the seal on the first pot. Everyone in the tent collectively held their breath as they all took a small step forward, impatient to see what the treasure was; only to jump back slightly at the hiss of 3000-year-old air escaping. Looking sheepishly at each other, they continued to move and surround the table even as a bright light started to emerge from the vessel. It grew in brilliance, eventually forcing them to look away. At the same time, a strong wind blew up from nowhere.

It was then that the screaming began.

***

Natural History Museum, Los Angeles

The discussion during the trip to the museum had consisted of planning a logical and systematic plan of attack on the layout of the building. Only then had they decided that whatever they were looking for was going to be a new addition or part of a visiting tour. Arriving at the new Mesopotamian/Near East collection, Wesley was in hog heaven. Eyeing the display cases in quiet wonder, he unleashed quite the biggest smile to grace his face in a long, long time. Fred looked up at him, watching his face in something akin to bewilderment and surprise.

Rapidly collecting his thoughts Wesley turned to Fred. “Right, what were we looking for again?”

“POTS!” She shouted, making him and a few of the people walking past them jump. “Sorry.” She continued, covering her mouth with her hand. This dimension still had her a little freaked. Suddenly, her arm darted out and she pointed to a cabinet about three down from where they were standing.

Making it to the display case, Wesley proceeded to take a long hard look at the objects inside. He was pleased to note that Cordelia’s vision had on this occasion been concise and accurate, even though she had still to recover fully from it. ‘Four brass vessels... check,’ he thought, managing to push that Cordelia train of thought far away for the moment.

He glanced at the display case again, noting on closer inspection that one vessel was mangled beyond recognition. He frowned, leaning in to obtain an even closer view, finally noting the seals and the scratches along the sides of the three complete pots. Taking his pad from his jacket pocket, he made notes and drew copies as best he could of everything he saw.

Fred meanwhile, was reading the board that was next to the cabinet. ‘Four brass vessels found in a dry lakebed in ancient city of Babylon, one damaged during excavation, blah, blah, blah...’

“Hey!” She said, pulling on the arm of Wesley’s jacket.

“Hmm?” He replied, still focused on the pots.

“Look at this.” She started. Putting his pen and pad away, Wesley straightened to see what Fred was referring to. “We have a curse.”

Wesley read the board for himself. It began by describing the location of the excavation and all the material found during the dig. Most interestingly of all though, it stated that after the pots were discovered, everyone who had visited the tent they were stored in had mysteriously died and one of the field archaeologists had simply vanished. Superstition being what it is; the vessels had been proclaimed cursed. Re-reading the text, Wesley was aware of a small pulling at a corner of his brain. This was familiar, but for the life of him, he couldn’t remember why.

Turning to Fred he said woodenly, “I think we have everything we need for now, let’s return to the hotel. I need to start researching.” He paused momentarily distracted, still unable to piece together what ever his brain was trying to tell him.

Her eyes lighting at up at the word ‘research’, Fred started to head for the exit, with Wesley walking hazily behind.

As they left, a man swept in through the opposite doors and came to a stop at the exact same spot they had just vacated. His face reflected on the same case that housed the four brass vessels; noting with some smug satisfaction that one of the vessels was almost unrecognizable, twisted and bent into a most unnatural state. If anyone had been paying close attention to the reflection being cast upon the case, they would have seen it distort and reveal its owners true face.

With a smirk, the demon addressed the pots... “Hello, lads, long time no see.”

***

Sunnydale

Spike was having a very good day. He’d been able to wind the Slayer and all her little Scoobies up, score some free blood and manage to not have one bolt of electricity run through his noggin. But for him, his piece de resistance was his afternoon bout of Passions. As he settled in for the last twenty minutes with a mug of blood, his supernatural senses suddenly went into overdrive. Hearing the door to the crypt open, he rolled his eyes and stood up

“Bloody-hell, Slayer! Can’t you just leave it alone for one…?”

He stopped as he saw who was at the door. “Jesus.” He whispered. “It can’t be…He told us…How did you…Why are you…I thought he’d killed you.”

The person at his door calmly waited for him to finish, before stating,” He didn’t and I need your help.” The door closed with a bang.

***

Hyperion

By the time Gunn arrived at the hotel, the lobby looked as though the Pylea episode was happening all over again. Books and paper were strewn across every available work surface, not one inch was spared. The only person in sight was Fred, who had conscientiously stacked the remains of any fast food containers into a fortress, which she was now currently hiding behind reading some ancient tome.

“What’s goin’ down?” He enquired to the near deserted hall.

Fred stuck her head over the top of her fortress and waved as Wesley suddenly appeared from behind the counter.

“Ah, Gunn,” Wesley started “We require your help in the...”

“Let me stop you,” Gunn wryly replied “What we researching?”

“These markings” Angel said, walking from the office and plunking himself down on the sofa.

Wesley handed Gunn a copy of his drawings taken earlier at the museum. Gunn turned the piece of paper slowly in his hands, raised his eyebrows and sighed as he took the book Wesley was holding out for him. Looking around for a safe place to perch, he again caught sight of Angel.

“What’s with the face?” He whispered sideways to Wesley

Wesley briefly glanced at Angel before pointing at the stairs as Cordelia descended into the lobby. “Girls Night Out - one of her parties,” He whispered back.

Angel overhearing their muted conversation, chose to ignore them and sunk deeper into his apparent sulk.

Gunn managed let out a strangled “wow”, as he took Cordelia into full view.

“I think I’ll have to second that,” smiled Wesley looking up from the moldy parchment in front of him. “You look fantastic!”

“You guys...” she admonished. Cordelia grinned like a Cheshire cat and twirled around for good measure, starting to giggle.

Three mouths dropped open in complete male appreciation, as her movements flaunted the dress to its optimum. The demure front giving way to an almost non existent back. Thin straps over the shoulders held the black chiffon over the gold underlay, making the dress semi-opaque. Both of these layers were only just held in place above her eye-catching tattoo by a sparkling crystal clasp. The bias design allowed the floor length materials to flow gently over her gorgeous curves. Her unadorned hair, along with the minimal make-up and jewellery completed the timeless beauty of the woman in front of them.

Coming to a slightly staggering halt, Cordelia collected herself. Opening her eyes she found Wesley and Gunn still staring, apparently fixated on a certain part of her anatomy. She followed their gaze, rolling her eyes in mock irritation before dryly commenting, “Geez, look at that, all three of us looking at a pair of boobs.” Her subsequent glare left Wesley and Gunn in little doubt that they were the other pair in question.

As she had come into the lobby, Angel had stood and turned to face her. The air he didn’t need had caught and lodged in his throat, forcing him to clear it. Cordelia turned and gazed upon him expectantly as she heard him.

“You look.... nice,” He finally ground out, mentally berating his two- hundred year old lack of imagination.

Cordelia had an exasperated look on her face but placed a kiss on his cheek before making her way to the door. “I’ll see you all tomorrow,” she said as she rummaged through her purse.

“You’ve got your phone right?” Angel asked.

Cordelia turned about-face waving said phone at him, having already second-guessed his question.

“Bye, “ Said Fred finally appearing from behind her cardboard fortress. “Have a good time!”

“I will.” Replied Cordelia as she left the hotel.

“Bye. “ The others shouted in unison.

“Be careful,” Angel whispered to the now vacant swinging door before resuming his former position.

“Are we sure she should be going?” Wesley asked delicately. “Less than four hours ago she was still in a bad way.”

“You know Cordelia, man. She takes it all, visions won’t back her down. An’ besides, when was the last time she got to go out lookin’ that hot?”

Wesley sighed. “I suppose so. It’s just that I’ve never seen one cripple her quite in that way before…” He trailed off as his eyes locked with Angel’s; unconsciously noting how the vampire’s eyes appeared to have narrowed to slits during Gunn’s little narrative.

“We’ll discuss this later. Let’s just figure her vision out first.” Angel’s tone indicated that the subject was closed for now. As everyone returned to his or her book, Angel switched on brood mode.

***

Four Seasons, Beverly Hills

Cordelia was ecstatic. After arriving at the Four Seasons and showing her invitation, she was escorted to the function room. Advancing inside, she was instantaneously transported back to her earlier years in Sunnydale. The whole place was decked in splendor, a splendor that she used to take for granted. Looking around her, she saw suits and dresses that today made her salivate and a little green around the gills. Finally locating her friend at the bar, she took a breath and went to join her.

***



Angel looked to be deep into the papers he was holding, but Cordelia preoccupied his mind. His frown deepened. These visions were… he hesitated to even shape the words, let alone allow them to be thought. He rubbed his face trying to re-concentrate on the papers he held in his hand.

It still wasn’t happening so he pushed them aside. He also tried to push down those feelings. Oh yes, he knew the ones. The butterflies and nervousness, they were all good signs of it. The feelings that he had for Cordelia were beginning to alter. They still had their crazy, rollercoaster ride of friendship, but he was starting to perceive her as more. He was starting to perceive her as a woman, with girl parts. And that was just not good at all. And besides, even with this slow awakening all the same old insecurities still rang true. They were the best of friends and Cordy meant everything to him. She had to know that, but friends don’t do friends right? And what about the whole curse thing he had going on? He sighed, as a man had once said, reason and love were keeping little company today.

The others were aware that the relationship between him and Cordy had shifted slightly since the return from Pylea. He himself wasn’t entirely sure what exactly this shift entailed; these feelings were still too new. But he could just picture Wesley’s face if they told him that they had on occasion been sharing a bed, even if it wasn’t in the biblical sense. As the thought took form he happened to glance at Wesley.

What he saw made him immediately rise to his feet. Wesley had just drained of all colour and was shakily reaching out for the nearest chair. Angel’s first thought was that he had voiced his contemplation out loud, but his original source of dread subsided when he noticed that Wesley’s gaze was fixed on the parchment clutched in his fist.

Fred and Gunn sensing Angel’s agitation looked to Wesley. The trio met and stood at the counter together, looking at the Englishman anxiously.

“Holy shit.” Was all they got.

***

Cordelia was out on one of the balconies over looking the gardens. The air was cool and she took a moment to enjoy the quiet and solitude whilst awaiting her friend to return with fresh drinks. The friend in question was none other than her old school buddy Aura, who through ‘Daddy’, had procured a job working for the man in whose honour they were all here tonight. He had been elected as Governor of California and the room she had just left reverberated with the power of the political and famous. Cordelia vaguely wondered if this were a path that she may have finished up on, if her parents had just been a little more exacting with their taxes. She sighed, her reverie interrupted by a small, girly squeal.

“Cordy, there you are!” Aura exclaimed as she handed Cordelia a fresh glass of Champagne. “Come with me, there’s someone I want you to meet.”

***

“Wes... Wes... Wesley!” Gunn almost resorted to slapping him as he came around to Wesley’s side of the counter. Quietly and solemnly he asked “What’s the deal man?”

None of them quite knew what to make of it, never had they seen him react quite like this.

“It’s bad isn’t it?” Angel asked.

“No shit ” Gunn mumbled, still staring at Wesley and therefore completely missing Angel’s subsequent glare.

“How bad?” Angel reiterated.

“I should have remembered in the museum, it was all so familiar.” Wesley berated himself.

“The curse!” Fred suddenly squealed.

“Curse... I... What? Wes, help us out here!” Angel entreated.

Focusing in on Angel’s voice, Wesley leapt up from his chair to the counter, moving anxiously behind it.

“There is a legend, “ He began, “from Babylonian times of four chief demons being imprisoned in a vessel of brass by the magic seal ring of King Solomon. Solomon also managed to scrape each vessel with the demons mark.” He pointed at his papers, showing the matching marks from the books to his drawings.

“Okaaay,” Said Gunn. “We have four demons and four pots... first off; who or what are the demons?”

Wesley turned his pad around. “Belial, Bileth, Asmoday and Gaap.”

They took a minute letting the names hang in the air around them when Fred spoke up. “The museum has all four pots, but one of them was really damaged.”

“Damn!” Wesley said, slapping his hand in frustration on the counter. “That means...”

“That one of them is free.” Finished Angel.

“And it explains the so called curse and mysterious deaths from the 1933 excavation. They must have broken the seal to look inside, mistakenly believing that they held treasure!” Wesley exclaimed.

“So which one is out?” Asked Gunn.

Wesley fumbled around for a few moments, holding his drawings to the open books covering the surface of the counter. Finally he answered, “Belial.”

“Right, what do we know about it?” Angel asked as they all turned their attention back to the bookcase.

After a short pause, it was Wesley who delivered the goods. “ Well, apparently very little.” He began as he threw yet another book onto the counter. “It will need to take over a human body in order to survive in this dimension… speaks well and distributes preferments of senatorship… favour of friends and excellent familiars...” Wesley trailed off from the disjointed text. He stopped to think before turning to Fred and asking, “Didn’t the display board at the museum, say that one of the archaeologists from that dig disappeared?”

“Yep.” Fred replied.

“You’re thinking that the missing archaeologist is hosting our friend.” Angel surmised.

Wesley nodded.

“Any way of finding out who it is?” Asked Gunn

“I think a trip to the museum’s records is in order.” Said Angel; starting towards the office for his coat.

Gunn headed for the door. “Game on”.

“Wesley; you and Fred stay here. Keep researching the legend. Find out what it was that they were originally after.” Angel shouted back into the lobby as he followed Gunn through the door. ”The vision just showed us the way in, we need the rest…”

Wesley, taking his glasses off placed his head in his hands. “I already know,” he whispered. He watched as Fred settled in at the computer before going back into the office. He made sure the door was closed and picked up the phone...

***

‘It needs to take over a human body in order to survive in this dimension...

Making their way back through the crowds, Cordelia noticed that they seemed to be heading for what could only be described as a stunning looking man. A little perplexed that maybe Aura was trying to set her up, Cordelia resolved to be firm but polite, after all she had…Well actually, there was no-one in her life right now. Groo was a cherished but fading memory and let’s face it, she thought. Trying to introduce a new man into her little group was nigh-on impossible; someone had still yet to pass Angel’s full on Gestapo act. All the vamp needed was a spot lamp to complete the look. Cordelia snorted in derision, what was up with that anyway? Still, her thoughts of Angel brought a small smile to her face and she vaguely wondered if they had gotten anywhere with her latest vision.

‘Favour of friends and excellent familiars...’

Reaching the mass of people surrounding the gentleman, Aura dove in to grab the man’s attention. As he turned around in Cordelia’s direction, she seemed to lose most of her coherency and was only dimly aware that she was being introduced to him.

‘Distributes preferment’s of senatorship...’

“Cordelia Chase, I’d like you to meet the Governor of California.”

“Such formality.” He joked giving her friend a mock frown. “Ms Chase.” He began, holding his hand out and looking her straight in the eye. “My name is Jeremy, Jeremy Washford.”

TBC...

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