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sebthesnipe · 4 years

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Wounded

First // Previously // Next

My Dearest Procyon

Masterpost

MDP Discord Server

Chapter 34

Original story based on this wonderful post by @underdog-arts

“It isn’t working,” Logan huffed, feeling ridiculous.

“It will, just give it time!” Patton sighed.

“Time is something we’re wasting!” Virgil grumbled from where he sat under a nearby tree. He pulled the blanket tighter around himself as he watched the other two.

“We’ll be wasting more of it if you don’t stop whining,” Patton shot back with a glare before turning back to his partner.

Logan sat, legs crossed, on the ashy ground, hands resting on his knees, eyes closed as he focused on his breathing. He could hear Patton shift closer, could feel their bond transfer the dragon’s confidence, so different from his own.

“All you have to do is reach out, visualize,” Patton urged.

“Patton,” Logan sighed softly, cracking an eye open to look at him, “Maybe we should try quiet?” Logan offered, causing the dragon to pause before giving an embarrassed chuckle.

“Right, sorry.” Patton nodded, falling silent as Logan tried to return to his meditative state.

It had been a long while since he had had a vision, since he and Patton met in fact. That of course, was not a vision he wished to dwell on in their current situation. Still, he had to acknowledge the fact that the vision still hadn’t come to fruition, which did not bode well for any of them.

“Ugh! This is hopeless!” Virgil spat, lifting the corner of the blanket to cover his mouth as he coughed.

“Virgil!” Patton grumbled in response.

Logan could hear the other witch move to stand, causing Patton to do the same.

“Relax,” Virgil huffed, “I’m just going to scout around a bit while you do…. Whatever.”

“I’ll go with you,” Patton urgered, stepping around his partner.

Logan could feel the dragon’s worry without seeing it on his face. He was fairly certain that if allowed, Patton wouldn’t let the smaller witch out of his sight for more than an instant. Virgil was far too fragile in his current state.

“Fine,” Virgil growled after a moment. “Whatever!”

A moment later, Logan felt the intensity of Patton’s emotions begin to fade as the dragon got further and further away. Finally, silence fell around him.

Even with the others gone, Logan was still apprehensive. Before Patton, Logan had only been able to see up until he met the dragon and everything beyond that was static. Patton was just too powerful! He blocked out everything else.

The dragon did have a point though. If he and Logan now shared the same power, then there was no reason Logan shouldn’t be able to have a vision. There was no power gap and therefore nothing to block him. Hypothetically, it could be accurate, but Logan wasn’t quite so convinced.

The seer tensed as realization struck him. Then again, if his lack of visions were due to the involvement of the dragon, then perhaps he could look towards something the dragon is not a part of.

Logan took another deep breath, pulling Patton’s magical energy through him. He took another inhale, centering himself before starting.

Dark blues and blacks swirled around him, reminding him far too much of the night sky as Logan stepped forward. His gentle foot falls made no sound as he collided with the translucent floor beneath him.

He knew this place…

Lights shifted around him. They appeared to be some sort of star system. Logan knew the patterns.The stars swirled around him, a small loving smile playing on his lips as he reached out for one, causing it to glow brightly.

“Hello, Procyon,” Logan whispered softly, unable to keep the smile from his lips. He lifted his other hand, caressing the star fondly before glancing about his sanctum. “Last time I was here, I had the privilege of sharing you with Patton,” he mumbled, glancing back at the star in his hands. “I believe he has grown quite fond of you. Though, he does seem quite generous in his affections to just about everything,” Logan laughed before pulling away.

“Um… Logan?” Patton’s voice came, making the man give a small start as he turned on his heel.

“Patton?” Logan mumbled, brows furrowed in confusion as he eyed the man before him.

Patton appeared saddened by something as he clung to the blanket in his arms.

“What’s wrong?” Logan rushed, heart sinking. “Has something happened to Virgil?!”

The dragon hesitated. “Roman looks cold,” he commented.

Logan’s confusion spiked for a moment before realization hit and he couldn’t help but get a small chuckle as Patton glanced away.

“I just… don’t think it’d be a good idea if I did it,” the dragon replied to some unheard comment.

Logan took a step closer, examining the smaller man’s form. He should have spotted the lack of pink in the man’s curls immediately, though he supposed he was far too surprised by his presence to really pay attention.

“C-could you… Could you maybe…” the dragon continued making Logan soften a bit more.

The witch reached out to brush a loose curl behind the dragon’s ear before caressing his cheek. It was a memory. A fond one. Patton had been so worried that Roman hated him and Logan had somehow managed to comfort him.

Patton moved as if to hold out the blanket he carried before he suddenly disappeared.

Disappointment washed through the witch at the loss, but he didn’t bother dwelling on it. He needed to continue on.

He moved further into the swirling blacks and blues, searching for something that would signal his visions. Anything to give them a clue as to-

His boot landed on the soft blades of grass suddenly beneath his feet.

“Of course,” Patton chuckled. Logan’s gaze shot to the small silhouette of the man stretched out beneath the stars. “I’ve never met anyone with so much knowledge about what’s out there. I’ve always wondered about it. How could I not?” He turned to the small specks that littered the sky. “They’re the only things that stay the same no matter how old I get.”

Logan paused. Surely he could spare a moment, just a brief minute, to appreciate the scene before him.

“I don’t remember,” Patton answered the unspoken question from, what felt like ages ago, never pulling his gaze from the stars. “I lost count a long time ago. Why try and figure it out now?”

Logan didn’t need to see Patton’s face to remember the pain he saw there. He still didn’t understand how someone so wonderful could have experienced so much pain without turning cynical.

The image faded, Logan’s disappointment returning.

They had been through quite a lot since they had met in that large cave. Logan had gone from not even realizing the dragon existed to being unable to picture his life without him. Patton was everything to him. He was his guiding light. His very own Procyon.

“So far, we’ve only found you and Patton,” Virgil’s voice came, pulling the seer from his thoughts. “Which means we need to keep going. If we can’t find this ‘source’, we’ll never be able to remain human or return home to face that bastard!” The words echoed around him, causing the witch to turn in a circle searching for the other witch.

“You mean this Noname, guy?” Roman asked, appearing on the floor a few meters off. “He sounds pretty awful.”

“You have no idea,” Virgil replied, appearing next to him.

This wasn’t Logan’s memory. That was good! It meant that he was getting closer to where he needed to be. He didn’t hesitate to move on, not wanting to invade Virgil’s privacy.

“Logan’s different,” Virgil’s voice came, “As a seer, Logan can see the truth; the future truth and the present truth…”

Logan picked up the pace.

“A half-dragon-half-witch that is also a queen?!” Roman suddenly appeared before the seer. Logan paid no mind, jogging through the image without hesitation.

He kept moving. He needed to get to the end.

“Virgil!” Roman’s voice cried out as the smaller witch appeared, eyes wide in shock as he stared down at the knife in his torso.

Logan paused, heart sinking.

The smaller witch collapsed, the prince suddenly at his side trying to save him. Roman’s first few words fell of deaf ears as Logan watched in horror, regret cementing his feet.

He should have been there for his friend. He should have stayed with him instead of spending so much time with Patton.

He watched Roman remove the knife, despite the fact that it would only worsen Virgil’s condition.

Why hadn’t Logan gone with him! He could have protected him!

“Hey…” Virgil’s weak voice came, finally pulling Logan from his panic. “It’s okay… It’s all good. Ah!... Princey…. Gonna take more… more than…”

Logan wiped the tears from his eyes. He didn’t have time for this!

He forced himself onwards, refusing to look back.

It was an old injury. He needed to focus on the injuries that were to come, not the ones from his past. If Logan didn’t find answers soon, then Virgil wouldn’t need to worry about any wounds at all. He’d be far beyond them.

The clash of metal on metal pulled Logan from his thoughts, causing him to glance up, gaze searching.

“Damn it!” Roman’s rough voice came as he appeared before the witch. The usually well kept prince was a horrific mess. His sandy locks were plastered to his forehead with sweat and… was that blood?

Roman yanked his sword back from the soldier on the end of it, suddenly materializing and dropping to the floor.

“Homuncli,” Logan breathed in relief. Roman was covered in Red clay.

He watched the prince stumble back, leaning against the wall as he tried to catch his breath. His usually white shirt was caked in the same red dust as everything else. He looked beaten and worn with large bags under his swollen eyes, lip spit, body bruised.

Roman ripped one of his torn sleeves further, managing to collect a large bit of cloth and pressing it against his opposite shoulder. The fabric quickly darkened with the actual blood Logan had missed, the color blending with the clay.

Roman was in bad shape. He wouldn’t be able to keep fighting much longer. Still, Logan watched the man push from the wall and stumble onwards.

Concealment no longer mattered. They needed to get to Roman as quickly as possible. If they were lucky they’d be able to get in and get out fast enough that Noname wouldn’t have enough time to actually react.

It appeared Logan had no choice but to agree to Virgil’s plan.

…………………………………….

Everything hurt.

Despite it all, it was a welcomed feeling. If he was in pain, then it would be difficult for Roman to fall unconscious, which meant he could keep moving. If he was in pain then he was alive. If he was alive then he could still save Virgil… he hoped.

The prince pushed onwards, stumbling down another hallway. No guards this time. Good.

Remy had been right, the place was an absolute maze. He was lucky they were on his side for more reason than-

“Roman?”

The prince tensed, forcing his sword up, ready to attack as he wheeled around.

“Holy dickcheese, Roman,” Remus breathed in surprise, stepping over another disposed soldier, mace resting on his shoulder. “You look like the dog’s fucktoy.”

“Don’t come any closer,” Roman warned, trying to look as threatening as possible despite his wounded state.

“Roman,” Remus sighed, taking another step.

“I’m serious!” Roman snapped, taking a step back.

Remus didn’t seem to pay any mind as he continued forward, starting to close the distance between them.

“What are you going to do, Ro? Kill me?” Remus mocked as he finally reached the other man.

Roman swung, the motion forcing air from his lungs at the pain it caused.

Remus didn’t hesitate to lift his own weapon, bringing the mace up to strike against the sword. The force of the blow reverberated down the blade, shaking Roman to the core and causing him to cry out, dropping it and throwing him off balance.

His twin moved quickly, dropping low and twisting to wrap an arm around his brother’s waist, steading him with one hand, the mace still in the other.

“What are you doing?!” Roman spat, trying to shove against the other man’s hold.

“What does it look like?” Remus growled in return, “I’m keeping your dumbass from collapsing.”

“I will die before I go back to the dungeons!” Roman yelled, still trying to wiggle out of his hold. “You’ll have to kill me!”

“Ugh!” Remus groaned, letting go and allowing the prince to collapse onto the floor in a very undignified manner. “You’re such a moron! I’m not taking you to the dungeon you dingus!”

Roman groaned, curling in on himself as everything screamed in protest at the impact of his body hitting the floor.

“Y-you’re not?” he breathed after a moment, glancing up at the other man.

“No, you idiot,” Remus scoffed. “I came to help, but if we’re going to get out of here, then you need to get that fatass up and keep that trap shut!”

“W-why?” Roman breathed, moving to use the wall to help him stand.

“Because you talk way too fucking much and its really annoy-”

“No!” Roman snapped. “Why are you helping me?”

“Oh,” Remus blinked before giving a sly grin. “I told you. You’re my bro…. And you’re an idiot. Somebody has gotta look after you. You obviously can’t do it yourself. Besides, what’s an older brother for?” he asked, offering out a hand.

“There is no way you’re older!” Roman argued, hesitating a moment before accepting the offered support. “We’re supposed to be twins.”

Remus considered the words for a moment, moving to pull Roman’s arm over his shoulder and making the prince groan from the action.

“You’re probably right,” Remus shrugged. “But I’m still older.”

“Whatever,” Roman grumbled, breath hitching as he tried to keep his breathing level. “Let’s just go before I change my mind.”

“So bossy,” Remus grumbled, but complied. He supported the weight of his larger twin as they headed down another corridor.

To be continued….

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@hiddendreamer67 @nightashes @aequinoctiale @sumersnowlilly

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ageless-aislynn · 5 years

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Title: “Switch” Author: @ageless-aislynn Characters/fandom: Caitlin Snow/Harrison Wells|Eobard Thawne (ReverseSnow), The Flash Summary: Getting swapped into Harrison Wells’ body is an eye-opening experience for Caitlin. In more ways than one. For Snowells Week 2019, Day 3, prompt: Body-Swap Rating: PG Length: 1,404 Spoilers/warnings: None Disclaimer: Definitely not mine but I do enjoy borrowing them just for a bit! ;) A/N: Body-swapping is one of my favorite tropes, so I could probably have fun writing a full-length ReverseSnow novel on it, lol! But, in lieu of that, here's a shorter little bit set in season 1. ;) If you read, I hope you enjoy! :D ♥

"I'm not sure," Cisco mused speculatively as he and Caitlin entered the Cortex. "'Mixer-Switcher' just doesn't feel like my best effort when it comes to metahuman names. Sounds too much like I'm calling him a DJ. Or, I dunno, saying he's not sure if he's a top or bottom. It just doesn't have that spot-on-but-still-family-friendly feel I try for."

"I'm sure you'll think of something--" Caitlin was saying as Dr. Wells turned from his computer, eyes widening.

"Look out!" he called and she spun in time to see the man in the half-black, half-white outfit pop through the doorway behind them.

"Maybe I'm a DJ who's really into BDSM," he said snidely, his gauntlets glowing as he took aim. As he fired, Barry sped in and tackled him.

The glancing edge of the blast sent Caitlin flying backwards, crashing next to Dr. Wells' wheelchair.

"Cait, you okay?" Cisco's voice sounded momentarily like it was distorted underwater.

"Dr. Snow?"

Dr. Wells rolled forward enough to get a hand around her upper arm, helping her to her feet with surprising strength.

"I'm okay," she told them both, attempting a reassuring smile. A tremor in her knees made her almost collapse. Embarrassingly, she nearly sat in his lap before managing to change trajectories to fall heavily in her chair.

"You don't look okay," Dr. Wells chided, wheeling over and tilting her head towards the light before running his hand over her skull. "Did you hit your head? Lose consciousness, even for a second?"

His touch was gentle and professional but still she blushed, having to fight the urge to lean into him. "Um, yes. I mean, no. I'm fine, I didn't hit my head or black out."

Up close, his blue eyes seemed especially piercing behind his glasses and it felt like he could see right through her. To deflect, she went on, "So, do we even have a lock on the door? How do these guys keep just walking in?"

***

A couple hours later, with Mixer-Switcher -- Cisco was right, the name could definitely use some work -- firmly ensconced in the Pipeline, Caitlin sighed as she turned her bathtub's faucets. She stripped and hung up her clothes, returning to add her favorite bath bomb. While waiting for the tub to fill, she noticed a faint bruise on the top of her shoulder. Twisting and turning, she checked herself in the mirror for any other injuries from her erstwhile tangle with the meta. She suddenly thought of Dr. Wells running his hand through her hair and her expression went a bit dreamy.

No, she thought sternly, jabbing a finger at her reflection. Harrison Wells is your boss, he's your friend, and he's not going to be the subject of some schoolgirl crush! You get these thoughts out of your head right now or--

She crashed to the ground in a suddenly much dimmer environment, hearing a glass shatter. The sharp scent of whiskey hit her nose.

For a moment, she just blinked, trying to get her bearings. Her surroundings were sparse, elegant and unfamiliar. The way she'd sprawled forward was uncomfortable so she awkwardly rolled over, gawking at the long legs stretching out before her, wearing black, well-tailored pants which were currently twisted.

"Mixer-switcher," she groaned aloud, then startled.

Oh no, I know that voice, she thought in alarm. Automatically, she looked down, patting the surprisingly firm, sculpted chest beneath the white dress shirt he'd been wearing at work today. Then she felt the angles and plains of the face she'd covertly admired for so long up to the hair she'd longed to ruffle -- wait, where were his glasses? Had they gotten knocked off when he'd fallen? Where was his wheelchair, for that matter?

She squirmed as the uncomfortable sensation threatened to spike into pain in a region she didn't possess in her own body. Plucking at the pants, she tried to... adjust things back into proper alignment from the outside, only to hiss when it got worse.

Well, I can't risk, you know, doing damage, she thought, rationalizing as she fumbled with the button and fly of his pants and reached in to move things about.

She couldn't help it, she looked, needing to visually confirm what his hand was telling her. "Oh my God," she blurted out, his voice shocked.

Her mind idly noted he was a boxer-briefs man. Tardily, she also realized she could feel his hand on his-- Whoa, feeling it a little too much, she thought, yanking away. I thought he didn't have sensation below the waist? Maybe it's just movement that's paralyzed?

His knees bent easily and she was standing before she even articulated the thought.

Harrison Wells wasn't paralyzed.

While she was trying to process that bombshell, the phone jangled loudly. The next thing she knew, she'd crashed into the wall at the end of the long room hard enough to leave a small crater where his shoulder hit.

The impact also made her aware of something hard in his pocket. She pulled out a heavy gold ring with the Flash's symbol. No, it wasn't the Flash's.

The reverse, she thought numbly. She put it on, it fit his finger perfectly. Muscle memory took over, his arm extended, fingers folding into a fist and there was some sort of electric push and--

The yellow suit somehow ejected out of the ring, unfolding as it majestically arced through the air. Then it gave an undignified splat onto the polished floor, skidding to a stop in a puddle of thick fabric.

Through the few seconds of eternity that had completely tipped her world on its head, the phone had continued to ring. Looking down, the number on the Caller ID was quite familiar as she picked up.

"So it seems that Mixer-Switcher's powers can have a delay," her voice said dryly without preamble. "His other body exchanges wore off anywhere from a few hours to a day but I wouldn't think it should take that long in this case since it--"

"What. The. Hell?" His voice thundered quite satisfactorily.

Harrison paused, then took on the reasonable professor tone he'd used often in the past. "I take it you've discovered a few things?"

"Ya think?" she snapped.

"I can explain."

"Explain? You're going to explain this, huh?!?" Oh yeah, it felt good to yell in his voice.

"Caitlin, calm down. Let's talk. Stay there and I'll--"

She suddenly fell to the floor in her bedroom. "Ouch," she grumbled, using her bed to lever herself to her feet. She was now wearing a mismatched bra and panty set and the bra was apparently fastened wrong.

The distinctive buzz of a speedster phasing through a solid surface was all the warning she had before the man in the yellow suit appeared before her, eyes glowing red. Then he abruptly pulled his mask back and regarded her steadily.

"Why were my pants unzipped?"

"That-- I was... That was totally innocent," she spluttered.

He arched a brow.

"You touched my lingerie," she pointed out, crossing her arms.

"Would you rather I went ahead and bathed you? Or left you naked?"

She gestured defensively, scrambling to regain her righteous anger. "This is all beside the point, Reverse Flash."

"Hm, true," he mused, slowly stepping towards her until she automatically backed up, her legs hitting the bed. She abruptly wondered just how much danger she was in. Strangely, she didn't feel afraid.

"It seems to me we can help each other here," he said softly. "You keep my secrets, I'll keep yours."

"Secrets? I don't have any--"

He bent -- she'd forgotten how tall he was -- and murmured in her ear, "I saw what's in the drawer."

He straightened, eyes deliberately moving to the nightstand beside her bed. The top drawer was, indeed, open a crack.

She gasped, face going flaming hot, and reached over to slam it shut as if that would somehow make a difference. "You... I..."

He gave a surprisingly serene smile, waiting her out.

"Fine," she finally said through gritted teeth.

"Good," he said, nodding cordially. "We'll settle up the details later."

Details? she thought in alarm but before she could ask, he pulled on his mask once more.

"Though tell me," he said, eyes going red and voice distorting, "did you at least like what you saw?"

"Dr. Wells!" she exclaimed in a scandalized tone.

His laughter hung in the air long after he'd sped away.

#the flash #snowellsweek2019 #day 3 #snowells #reversesnow #aislynn's fics

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moontyrs · 6 years

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Price of a Soul

Words: 4,374

Chapters: 2 of 13

Language: English

Fandoms: Angel the Series

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Some violence

Characters: Faith Lehane, Angel, Cordelia Chase, Spike, Wesley Wyndam-Pryce, Lindsey McDonald, Lilah Morgan

Synopsis: Season 1 of Angel, Faith arrives but with a friend. The team must deal with the fallout of past failures as enemies become allies

Angel had gone to the apartment below to make the call, which was taking quite awhile. At least that’s what Cordelia thought as she was pouring over books that had absolutely no information on a rogue slayer. She raised her head and winced, rubbing at a kink in her neck that was quickly developing. Frowning at the book as though it did it on purpose, she sighed heavily and closed it loudly. With a look around she saw that Wesley didn’t even notice. She leaned with her chin in her hand and tried again, a louder, longer sigh. Still nothing.

Just as she was about to clear her throat Angel stepped back into the office. His steps were slow and his head was down. She perked up and threw a pen at Wes to get his attention.

“Angel? Any news?” she asked carefully.

With no answer and not even a glance in their direction, Cordelia looked to Wes who tried again. Clearing his throat he stood up from the desk. “We, haven’t found much yet, did you have better luck then?”

Angel lifted his head and then sat down heavily in the large chair. “They know. In Sunnydale. Actually, it seems she woke up and went right for Buffy.”

Wesley and Cordelia exchanged a look and both moved from their positions to stand near Angel.

“She’s, all right isn’t she?” Cordelia asked. She knew that in the end, everything they were doing, helping Angel with this path, was to lead him back to her. Angel finally seemed to snap out of whatever he had been thinking and nodded, running a hand over his face.

“The Mayor, had a plan for her. Some device that allowed her to switch bodies with Buffy. When the Council came for Faith and actually grabbed Buffy, in her body, she was able to convince them of the truth. They destroyed the device but she did a lot of damage.”

Cordelia winced, who knew what kind of damage she could do while people thought she was Buffy, and honestly she didn’t want to try an imagine it. Wesley on the other hand was already sweating.

“What, I mean, what did she do? Is everyone, safe?”

Angel leaned forward, his elbows on his thighs and gave a rather sad sort of chuckle, that was worrisome. “Yeah, I mean, she, she got caught rescuing some people in a church. Before that she uh, slept with Buffy’s new boyfriend though.”

Then they understood. Cordelia sat on the edge of the arm of the chair and put a hand on Angel’s back.

“I’m sorry. I, didn’t know she’d started dating.” For the first time, Cordelia was a little lost for words, though she had plenty for Buffy.

Angel sat up again and allowed Cordy lean her head into his. “She’s, moved on. I had to talk her down from coming here to kill Faith. She told me, she told me that she moved on, and that it’s new and good and better. Because she can trust him.”

Cordelia’s eyes narrowed and she sat up, opening her mouth to let loose, but Wesley stopped her with a clear of this throat.

“I, am sorry Angel, but Buffy is young. She is living her life, which is what you both wanted. At this point, I think we should put our energies elsewhere. Like, finding Faith.” His voice was reassuring but with that slight tinge of authority meant to guide. Cordelia could have overridden it with her own diatribe but the phone rang. She glared at Wes almost demanding he answer so she could talk to Angel, but he simply stared her down and she stood up with a grumble. With a growl of frustration Cordelia reached for the phone.

"Angel Investigations we help the – " Her usual bright eyed and big smiling response fell into a look of confusion then a frown. Suddenly both men were interested. Angel stood and Wesley removed his glasses leaning forward. With a lick of her lips, Cordelia held the phone out for Angel. "It's, for you."

Angel looked at the two of them then reached for the phone. "Angel."

Wesley's questioning look was met with her shaking her head, still confused. Most of the conversation was simply Angel humming in assent or nodding. At least the part they heard. Finally he hung up and stared at the phone a moment. Then he went for his coat, the two trailing behind him.

"Well?" Cordelia asked anxiously.

Angel turned back to them as he looked through the weapons. "It was a tip. Wolfram and Hart hired Faith, and set her up in an apartment. I'm going to check it out." His voice had gone monotone. Dark and determined.

Immediately Cordelia went to reach for the small crossbow in the weapons. "Not alone you're not!"

Angel grabbed her arm and stopped her. His face softened a bit as he looked at her and at Wesley. "Yes I am. I'm taking the sewers, this is only a visual. No fighting, and I don't want you two getting hurt. Wes, keep an eye on her, I'll be back soon." He turned and left as Wesley stepped up by Cordelia, who was already crossing her arms over her chest unhappily.

"He is just making sure we are safe."

"Says you! Wes he shouldn't be out there by himself and you know it. Especially after that phone call."

He sighed and nodded. He knew she was right, that they should stick to working as a team, but he was hoping Angel was truly just checking out a tip and not dealing with the issue alone. In truth, he was worried about how dangerous Faith could be.

"Well, I guess we're back to research." He stated with a small smile. With an audible groan Cordelia lowered her arms and let her head fall back onto his chest.

"Fine. You go get all those dusty books and I'm ordering lunch."

*************

Faith had done quite a bit of legwork. She knew the area, she knew Angel’s usual haunts, she also knew where he went for information and who squealed to him more often than not. So getting the information to Angel was a piece of cake and he took it like a kid on a sugar binge. They knew timing was everything and so waited just long enough for Angel to be too far gone to run back for anything and for the other two to get comfortable. They would be in the office and they could easily slip into the building to look for the right moment to pounce.

Meanwhile, Wesley had books set aside for Cordelia, he had found some old records of rogue slayers, and was hoping to find some information on how to deal with them. Other than death that was. There had been a few of course, and the Council typically dealt with them quickly. They had to. Not having an active slayer was bad enough. Having one that did more harm than good set them back. The only reason they hadn't been more intent on Faith was that they still had Buffy. Of course, as Faith was activated after Buffy, killing Faith would just call another slayer. Which complicated matters. What he was finding wasn't good. There had been no attempts at rehabilitation in generations. The ones they had made had failed miserably. Hearing soft footfalls he didn't raise his head, he only raised a hand to gesture behind him.

"Ah there you are, Cordelia would you hand me the Compendium behind you? Thank you."

He heard the book slide from the shelf but as he raised his head, he was blinded by it. His head snapping to the side and smacked into the desk, bouncing off of it. Stars burst behind his eyes and he blinked confused. There was no time to adjust as fingers dug into his scalp, pulled at hair and yanked his head back. Faith grinned down at him. She had not seen Cordelia and so she and Spike had slipped in, going in separate directions as they stalked their prey. Wesley asking for a book had made her shrug, after all, live by the book, die by the book, right?

"Hey there Wes. Long time no see, how's that watcher thing working out for you?"

He opened his mouth to answer and she slammed his head down again. This wasn’t really a discussion. Not as far as she was concerned anyway. "It was rhetorical. You know what rhetorical means right? Like a watcher protecting his slayer? Rhetorical, means, not, doing, shit." Faith bit out.

While the end goal may have been breaking Angel, right now she was concentrating on his team. More importantly, Wesley and she had plenty of hard feelings of her own to work out.

Wesley groaned, he couldn't help it. He felt blood trickle over his left eye and his glasses had broken and laid on the desk in pieces. She leaned to his ear and he shivered. "Call in your friend. She's gonna want to see this." Faith smiled politely.

Wesley knew what she meant. Cordelia, she was grabbing food and wasn’t in the office just yet. So she was safe. As long as he could keep Faith occupied anyway. Shaking his head, hope flared that he could take care of this himself. Worse case, he was going to end up mighty bruised, but he just had to keep her busy until Angel came back. He realized Faith would have some unresolved hostility towards him, but it just truly hadn't occurred to him how much, or how dangerous it was. Unfortunately, there was no way to warn Cordelia, to keep her away and within moments he heard her voice.

"Hey Wes, I hope Chinese is okayyyyyyyy" Cordelia sang out as she rounded the corner to the office. Walking in she froze, eyes had gone wide and quickly she dropped the food and looked for the nearest thing that could possibly be used as a weapon.

Wes coughed and jerked his head from Faith’s hand, Faith immediately jerked his head back to stare at the ceiling, neck stretched back so hard he could barely breathe. "Cordelia, run! Now!" He managed to croak out and panicked when Faith loosened her grip and mimicked him.

"Cordelia, run." She whined at her. Letting go of Wes she stepped behind him, hands at his shoulders, digging in and leaned her face against his. “I dare ya.”

Wes winced, he wasn’t sure what was going on but he didn’t like it. He hoped that she really was letting Cordelia go. Perhaps as a message to Angel. He stared at her and mouthed the words please.

Cordelia was torn. Sure, she could run, no way she could take Faith, but that slayer bitch had Wesley! She could maybe at least distract her right? Grabbing a coffee mug she threw it at Faith’s face and ran for her, but Faith was faster. Stepping aside she knocked Cordelia to the ground with a punch to the gut and then shook her head.

“Wow, I knew you weren’t bright but I didn’t think you were downright stupid. One last chance, run.” She added in a hiss.

With a glance to Wes she pushed herself up to standing. He was swaying in his chair, bleeding from the head. Oh she’d run all right. Right to the weapons. She started backing up and Faith just smiled at her. Probably should have been her first warning. Still once close to the door she spun around to run for the weapons, only to run right into someone’s chest. Hands grabbed her upper arms and pinned her in place, she hoped it was Angel but she already knew it wasn’t. Pulling back, she couldn’t budge, the hands were so strong. Shaken slightly she glanced up, right into Spike’s face.

"Well well, always did have a thing for cheerleaders. Gonna scream for me pet?" He purred at her.

Shivers ran over the back of her neck and she swallowed hard, she wasn’t going to scream for him, but it wasn’t from pride. Spike had turned her around and wrapped an arm around her chest, pinning her arms. A strangled sound came out and her head was yanked to the side. His face was in her neck and she closed her eyes just waiting for fang.

Faith took a knee in front of Wesley and made a kind of ‘tsk tsk’ noise as she pushed the blood from his eyes and held his chin so he was looking at the scene behind her. "So here's the deal, Wes. As long as you don't scream, we'll leave her alone. You scream, you beg, then we'll leave you alone. And start on her. Got it?"

Wes tried to nod, his head was killing him. It felt three times larger than it should be. He looked over at Spike, he hadn't bitten her, not yet. He had to find a way to get them to leave her alone. "Just, leave her here and I'll cooperate It’s me you’re angry at Faith."

Spike licked along Cordelia’s neck, causing her to wince in disgust and try pulling away. He had her head pinned in place and he stared at Wesley and Faith. "What and give up fresh blood? I hear those visions make the blood, tasty."

Cordelia felt the sharp intake of breath before she realized it was hers. Eyes widened slightly and she looked at Wesley, truly afraid. They knew about her visions, they were prepared, she didn’t see how either of them were getting out of this. Her fears were realized when Faith shook her head and pulled Wesley’s chin down to look at her.

"Oh no, you both get to come for the ride. But, wouldn't be very fair for us not to invite your boss right?" With that she got up and pulled out a knife. Grabbing Wesley’s hand she pulled the blade along his palm and Cordelia squeaked. Faith just rolled her eyes and Spike licked his lips. Grabbing an empty mug from the desk she pulled Wesley’s hand over it and made it into a fist, letting the blood fill the bottom of the cup.

Dropping his hand she turned on Spike and Faith, pointing the blade towards Cordelia. Spike shook his head. “Sorry luv, not wastin’ a drop o’ this. Will knock her out for ya though.”

With that he bounced her head off the door frame and picked up her limp body. Faith looked at Wes and with no warning, backhanded him and he went limp.

*************

Angel had decided to sneak through the sewers to the apartment building. Hoping to catch Faith off guard, she was dangerous, most slayers were. The difference was he knew the last time that he’d seen her, she had been mentally unstable as well. Which was an even more dangerous situation. He wanted to believe there was hope for her, had tried before to help her. The thing was, Angel knew that you couldn’t help those that didn’t want your help. You couldn’t save everyone, as much as you might try.

He came up the back of the apartments and took to the fire escape, still in the shadows of the building. He knew it was on the fourth floor and he wasn’t taking any chances that she had the halls and stairs ready for him. As he got up to the right floor he found a window cracked open and went to check it out. It overlooked the hallway, and not an apartment, so carefully he pulled the sash open farther and slipped in. The first thing he noticed was that it was quiet. Too quiet, as if no one had lived in the building for a long while. It was the kind of silence that was stale, letting you now it hadn’t been disturbed. The layer of dust didn’t do much more to make him feel good about the situation.

Pinpricks ran up the back of his neck, it screamed trap and he knew he couldn’t turn back now. He needed answers, he needed to get to Faith before she went too far. 4G, that was the apartment he was told about and it was at the end of the hall. He slowly made his way down to the door and halfway down the hall noticed a note on the door. Every muscle in his body tensed up as he told himself it wasn’t for him. It wasn’t part of a trap. As he got up there his eyes scanned the message and he yanked the paper from the door. The handwriting was too familiar and made the whole situation even more dangerous.

Guess who joined the party? Just like old times, mate. Too bad you're neutered, we could have had a lot of fun. No worries though, your friends will keep the slayer and me company till you're ready to join in. P.S. Never did tell me, what's it like breaking a seer?

He crumpled up the note and ran, diving through the window at the end of the hall and jumping down the four flights to the ground. Hitting hard he rolled with the impact. He had to get back to the office. It had definitely been a trap, it just hadn’t been for him.

The sewers would be fastest, so he ran through, water splashing around his ankles as he took the now familiar route back to his apartment in the basement of the building. Rushing into his own living quarters he didn’t bother with the elevator but took the stairs two at a time to the office. He knew withing feet of the door that he was too late. The smell of blood struck him hard, like a slap to the face.

"Cor! Wes!" He called out, in hopes that one of them were there, that both were still alive. All that greeted him was a deafening silence. His call echoed off the walls as if mocking him. He had been so intent on the trap being for him, that Faith was there for him, that he had truly hoped that by keeping the other two away, they would be safe. Especially if he left them at the office. The office was safe, it was his home, it was their sanctuary, now it had been violated in the worst way.

The familiar smell of Cordy’s perfume and Wesley’s books was all but obliterated by the smell of fear and blood. As soon as he stepped into the office he was looking everywhere, trying to picture what had been done to them. There was broken glass, Wesley’s glasses lay mangled on his desk, books were scattered and blood dripped from the chair onto the floor. He saw the stain of it on his mug and without realizing it, he was reaching for it. The smell of human blood was so much stronger than the stuff he usually drank and when he noticed he was staring at it, his hand shook in anger. This was their blood, he knew it. Cordelia’s or Wesley’s, or worse both.

He threw the mug to the wall and watched it break into a million pieces, blood splattering across the wall. There wasn’t enough blood for them to be dead. So they were taken alive, or better yet had somehow escaped. That brief flare of hope was dashed when he saw the knife stuck into his desk, pinning another note. This one again in Spike’s handwriting, though Faith had left her own mark as well.

I am disappointed. You're making this too easy, Angelus. Don’t worry, they are alive. They will be alive for days, don't forget, I learned from the best.

At the bottom, scrawled in the blood of his friends was the message: TAG YOUR IT.

*************

Wesley woke with a groan and tried to shift, but a cool hand to his head stopped him. He was laying on the floor, that much he knew. Giving his head a moment to stop spinning, he opened his eyes and realized they were in a windowless room, there were chairs to the side but he was on the floor, head in Cordelia's lap as she stroked at his hair. He reached up to stop her hand and looked over her face, eyes drifting to her neck and relief flooding him that he saw no marks.

"Hey." He tried to sound normal but it came out more strangled than he’d like. Still he offered a small smile as well.

"Hey." Cordelia replied, her own face pinched in pain, and tightness around her eyes had him frowning as he moved to sit up. She tried to stop him but he held her hand and turned to sit and face her.

"Cordelia, what is it?" His voice held an equal amount of worry and fear. When she simply shook her head and glanced to the door he turned to look as well. Obviously they were locked in but that wasn’t her only worry. No this was more. Before he could press, she swallowed and looked at him. Reaching with her other hand to his forehead where blood had dried.

"How are you feeling? She, she hit you a lot. In the head."

A slight wince at the reminder and he groaned. She reached for him to steady him and he sighed, giving her hand a squeeze of reassurance. "I'll be fine. You look, hurt. Did they . . . "

She shook her head to reassure him and her eyes lit for a moment in anger. "Oh no, I heard them, they'll leave me alone as long as they get to beat on you. Which, I have to tell you was the stupidest thing you've ever agreed to."

A touch of fire threaded her voice and it gave him a small smile to know she was well enough to still yell at him. Her shoulders slumped a bit and she sighed, squeezing his hand back. "But thanks."

Wesley smiled back but heard the door open and jumped, moving to block her from it if he could. Spike came in and tossed a bottle of pain killers and a bottle of water at Cordelia’s feet. With a smirk he lit a cigarette, "That's one innocent not getting' saved huh? An' the watcher's awake. Time to play."

With that he turned and left, closing the door again, Wesley could hear the bolt slide into place locking them in. Cordelia had reached for the bottle like it was a life line and quickly doled out several pills. Wesley looked confused, she had said they hadn’t hurt her but she was nearly desperate for the pills. That’s when he realized, he turned to her quickly, shock and worry threading his voice.

"Cordelia?"

She finished swallowing the pills and handed him the water, making sure she only took what she needed. She knew what he was asking, but she would rather not talk about it and hoped to distract him. "Here, drink the rest. I don't like whatever they've got planned for you.”

Off of his look she sighed, “ I, I had a vision. While you were out cold. I told them I only have visions of innocents in trouble, for Angel to rescue and they left it alone. They seemed almost, excited about it."

Wes knew it was more serious than that, her eyes refused to meet his. Brushing her hair from her face he looked at her. This wasn’t the pain he was used to seeing after a vision hit, this wasn’t just worry, or even anger that they wouldn’t be able save the person. Whatever it was she wasn’t saying, it pulled like a thread of pure fear through his stomach. There was one possibility and it seemed the most obvious. "Cordelia? No, tell me. Was it, this? Us?"

She shook her head and swallowed. She couldn’t, it was just too much. "No, not, not exactly. I mean, sort of. I saw, Lindsey." She eek-ed out hoping it was enough.

"Makes sense that Wolfram and Hart have a hand in this." Wesley grumbled.

These days there was very little that they weren’t doing to try and cause problems for them. Of course, death, torture, seemed a bit much for their usual tactics. The fact that they were stepping it up was not a good sign. Still, he saw there was more and just waited. She started sniffling, shoulders shaking and he wrapped an arm around her. If she had to see, and worse feel, his torture and death before it happened he would kill Lindsey himself for putting her through it. That, was a kind of torture no one deserved.

"He killed me. I'm going to die Wes, and there's no one there. I die alone." She barely breathed it and he went still. His arms tightened around her. He wasn’t there? She hadn’t seen him, or Spike or Faith. Just Lindsey, and just her, and her death. This was no longer about vengeance of a slayer.

“You’re, you’re sure. I wasn’t, there or Spike or anyone? It was, Lindsey?”

Pulling away slightly she wiped at her face, ashamed of having broken down in the first place. With a nod she took a breath and steadied herself. “I’m sure. You were safe, I don’t know how I know but I do. You were safe and somehow, I wasn’t here, it was someplace else. A lab or something.”

She was so matter of fact about it now that she seemed almost resigned and he refused to give up. Grabbing her shoulders he dipped his head to see her face. Determination fixed his face.

"It won't happen. You know Angel won't let that happen. Neither will I."

She raised her head and her eyes held a sadness and resignation that chilled him to the bone. “I don’t think, you have a choice.”

He opened his mouth to reply but they didn't get a chance to discuss it anymore as the door opened and Spike walked in with a duffel bag and Faith followed, dragging a chair. She rubbed her hands together and smiled.

"Time's up."

#fanfic #angel the series #mature #fan fiction #faith lehane #cordelia chase #spike

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