TITLE: 'Out of Africa' 20/31
AUTHOR: Pythia
E-MAIL: pythia@tiscali.co.uk
DISCLAIMER: The characters are the property of Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy,
Sandollar Productions, Kuzui Enterprises, 20th Century Fox Television and
the UPN Television Network. The story is written for the pleasure of the
author and readers, and has no lucrative purpose whatsoever. Please do not
reproduce this story anywhere without the author's consent.
POSTING NOTES: *.* is for emphasis. {.} denotes thought and [.] implies
translation from another language.
Angel's steps were hurried as he made his way though the hospital corridors and into the depths of the ICU. The place still hummed with subdued activity, anxious attentions focused on the dying and the desperate; no one bothered to stop or challenge the determined vampire, since he clearly knew where he was going and why. He didn't intend to stay long - just long enough to speak with whomever had duty watch that evening, and find out what they knew.
Unless it was Buffy, of course.
In which case he'd tell her what he'd found, and they'd go looking for Lilithu together.
He expected to find the room much as he left it - filled with the soft murmur of active monitors, the anxious concerns of whomever hovered there, and the emptiness of an abandoned shell - a living corpse bereft of soul or spirit.
What he *didn't* expect was a scene from a Hammer horror movie.
Oz had been lurking behind the drawn curtains. As soon as he'd spotted Angel approaching he'd darted out, grabbed his sleeve and dragged him in, hastily shutting the door behind them both. The vampire blinked in bemused surprise.
There were candles everywhere. Perched on monitors, lined up along the side table, defining patterns across the floor; red candles, blue candles, black, gold and amber ones. Most of them were lit, including the flickering nightlight beneath an ornate incense stand which sat at the end of the bed. Willow was there, wearing a huge wooden ankh, and using a taper to light the rest of the candles. She looked up as Angel entered, her expression shifting from wary alarm to relieved recognition.
"Angel? Oh, that's great. This'll work so much better with someone to take the place of the fourth pillar. Can you stand over there? Yes - right there. Don't worry. I'll tell you what you have to do in a minute."
He moved to where he was directed, finding Xander occupying a similar slot on the other side of the bed, and blinked again, even more bemused. The young man appeared to be cradling a young tabby cat, which was currently purring happily.
"What's going on?" Angel asked, keeping his voice low, since the atmosphere in the room seemed to demand it. Xander - who'd been staring at the silent occupant of the bed with wide and worried eyes - looked up and found him a wary frown.
"Counter attack," he whispered, pointing out the narrow strips of paper which now lay either side of the Watcher's comatose form. "She snaffled Giles' soul. So we're going to grab it back."
The paper was inscribed with complex symbols, most of which Angel didn't recognise. Some of them were also painted on the unconscious man's skin; patterns of scarlet hieroglyphics paraded down one bare arm and were echoed on the bandages which wrapped the other.
"Lipstick," Xander supplied helpfully, seeing the way the vampire's eyes tracked their preparations. Angel nodded, looking a little relieved. He'd known it hadn't been blood - but there were several other things they could have used.
"Okay," Willow announced, nodding to Oz, who took up a place beside her. "Think we're ready now."
"You sure this is going to work?" Xander asked, gently depositing the cat on the bedclothes and stroking her so that she settled where he'd put her. Right in the middle of Giles' stomach as it happened. The animal stretched and prodded a little with its paws - then curled up and made itself comfortable. "This is really old magic, Will. Much older than anything you've tried before."
"I know," the young witch frowned, carefully pouring something from a jar onto the charcoal in the burner. "And I'm not sure. I'm not sure at all. But we have to try something. Giles is out there being all 'Night of the Living deadness,' remember?" Smoke began to curl up from the hot coals, filling the room with the scent of flowers and burning honey. "Did you deal with the smoke alarm?" she asked Oz. The werewolf nodded.
"Totally dealt. In here - and down the corridor too."
That was probably just as well; the incense was drifting up in long lazy curls, adding to the heat and flicker from the candle flames. If things got any hotter, they would be setting the automatic sprinklers off.
"Dealt too," Oz smiled, catching Angel's upward glance. "I'll switch it all back afterwards."
"Okay," Willow said a second time, gathering her concentration together. "Now, there's three things we have to do. We have to wake up his body, we have to undo the serpent chains that are keeping it and the spirit apart - and then we have to call one back into the other."
"Well, that sounds simple," Angel muttered, not entirely sure what she was talking about. "I mean, you managed to give me back *my* soul …" Her frown silenced him. Xander's was equally intimidating.
"*Not* simple," the young man said anxiously. "Much worriedness here. You took two goes. Only got one chance at this."
"Only one?"
Willow nodded. "The waking up - the 'opening of the mouth' thing? That's easy. Standard Book of the Dead stuff."
"They did that to *all* the mummies. Daddies too, I guess," Xander added with typical defensive flippancy.
"The breaking of the chains is harder stuff," Oz supplied, checking the heavy tome sat next to the burner. "We think Lilithu's serpent power will be strong - and she's not going to want to let go of him."
"And once we've done *that?*" Willow's expression wasn't just anxious. It was scared. "We have to call him back within four beats of his heart - or else …"
"Three possibilities," Oz concluded bleakly. "We get Giles, we get something *else* - or we get nothing at all."
"Nothing …" Angel glanced down at the silent form on the bed. The Watcher's eyes were closed, his face slack, his expression as empty as the rest of him. They were saying that - if this spell failed - the man would remain that way for the rest of his life, trapped in a true living death. "You really want to risk this?"
"We *have* too," Willow insisted. "It's the only way. *She's* not going to let him go until she's ready - and that won't be until after she's used him to get her power back."
"Which is a big *no way* thing," Xander interjected. "Because - she gets it, *we* get it. Buffy - us, whole of SunnyD. Big time."
The vampire shivered, remembering his own attempt to bring about an apocalypse. Rupert Giles had fought - stubbornly and determinedly - to prevent that, and Angel knew that he'd choose to fight *this* if he could, that he'd be prepared to risk anything and everything to protect the world.
To protect these young souls, who meant more to him than family.
And to protect his Slayer, for whom he would willingly give both life *and* soul without a moment's thought.
"Will - doing this stop Lilithu? Even if - "
"We lose the G-man?" Xander didn't want to say it, but somebody had too. "Yeah. We break the chains, she's got no ritual corpse guy. Buffy kicks her ass, and Wes does the 'oops, you're toast', stuff."
Angel found himself smiling grimly. "Then we'd better get started, hadn't we?"