Angela Chase (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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fandomtownies2005-11-18 07:29 pm
chasingangela) wrote in fandomtownies2005-11-18 07:29 pm
Phale's bookstore, Friday evening
Just after twilight, five figures – three teenage girls, one very
slightly older woman, and a young man -- approach Phale's bookstore.
They carry an assortment of bags and supplies, and the expressions on
their faces range from conflicted to scared senseless to resolute. But
any onlooker might detect a certain sense of purpose common to all
members of the group.
One girl, an artificial redhead, makes an effort to square her shoulders and quit looking like she expects the boogieman to jump out at any second and sends a wan smile to the people walking with her. "This will all be over soon," she mutters, grimly. "However it goes."
And then the really hard part will begin," Tara says softly, obviously unhappy with what she has to do.
"Hard for who? Angelus? Good. It should be. Us?" Parker shakes her head. "As long as no one else dies, we'll manage the rest of it."
"No dying," Angela says. "Let's just not ... think about that, okay?" She looks at Tara. "Everything okay? You can do this. I know you can."
"I can do it," Tara replies. "But... we're locking him up inside the most awful prison possible. I don't want to trivialize that. What we're doing isn't right. It's just... it's just what we have to do."
"He'll be alive," Angela says. "Which is more he gave Kitty, or the hundreds of other people he's met."
She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. "I mean ... I understand why you think it's a cruel spell. But from what you Sunnydale people say, he'll deal."
"He'll deal," Tara repeats, holding on to that thought. "In another decade or so he'll fight his way free. This way, he gets a chance. The other way..." doesn't bear mentioning. So she doesn't.
Parker turned, stopping Tara. "Don't count on it."
She made sure Tara was looking at her, and then said, "And if you're going to wimp out? Speak now, and get the hell out of my way, so I can find someone who won't. I'm not trivializing jack. It sounds like you are. Commit to this, once and for all. I've accepted that whatever comes is on our heads. And that includes killing him if this doesn't work."
The wind blows her hair into her eyes as she glares at Tara. "And if you want to turn me in afterwards, I'll show *you* an ethics exercise in accepting consequences. I'll turn myself in, if it makes you happy. But either this works, or it's the stake. Understood, Professor Maclay?"
"This will work," Tara replies, her tone cold and her eyes sad. "But Idon't have to like it. I just have to do my job."
Meeting Parker's eyes, Tara glares right back. "And I'll do it."
Shane listens to their discussion but remains quiet, hand gently resting between Tara's shoulder blades as she stands close beside her. She knows
that her input on the whole situation would only complicate things and that's not what she's here for. She's here to help her friends.
Marty follows behind everyone, stopping occasionally to listen closely and check the surroundings. Like most of his time at Fandom, he's tuned Parker out.
"Good. Let's get this done." Parker is reaching for the door to Aziraphale's shop, when she stops.
"Did you hear something?"
Wincing at the argument, Angela stands perfectly still, moving her head only a little to help her hear. She nods at Parker. "I think so," she says softly.
"Marty?"
Marty looks off into the distance and cocks his head trying to listen.
"Shit," he mutters under his breath. He gives Angela the key and quick kiss. "Go do what you have to do. I'll be back as soon as I can. Stay inside until I get back."
Angela kisses him back. "Be careful. Really. I love you," she says softly, then sadly watches him go. She is resigned to it even as she hates it.
"He's armed, at least," she says aloud. "God, how did my life get to the point where I have to think about that?"
She puts the key in the lock and turns it.
Parker shakes her head, looking worried. "Be careful!" she yells after Marty, then awkwardly pats Angela on the shoulder. "I'm sure it's nothing. He'll be back in a minute."
She doesn't sound like she believes it.
Shane's eyes follow Marty as he goes but then turns her attention back to her friends. "He'll be all right, Angela," she says quietly, calmly, her tone reassuring and certain. "We'll be all right."
Her fingertips drift down along Tara's arm and she clasps her hand, lacing their fingers together. She knows that Tara will need as much moral support, if not magical, as she can muster.
The warmth in Shane's tone comforts Angela, a tiny bit. "We will," she says, still not sounding sure.
Aziraphale had closed up the shop early, in expectation of some guests. The door is locked, and in fact at the moment only one of the keys he's given out will actually open it. He's drawn the curtains on the windows as well, and is sitting in his armchair and waiting.
Worrying about Marty almost as much as she's worried by what they have to do, Angela unlocks the door and gestures Parker, Tara and Shane inside. "Mr. Phale?" she calls. "We're here."
Aziraphale stands immediately, holding the door open and locking it again behind Angela. "Please come in, my dear. I've cleared space in the back, in the reading lounge, for you."
He smiles at the young women, exuding an air of reassuring strength. "Is Marty not joining us?"
"We heard something. He went to check it out," Angela says, simply. "He should be here in a minute."
She hopes like hell this is true.
"I'll watch for him, Angela. Don't worry," Aziraphale says.
Parker goes to the bookcase, and takes down the volume that has the spell. "Thank you for letting us do this here, Mr. Phale. And for keeping this safe." She brings the book out. "Professor Maclay? Here it is. What do we need to do?"
Tara scans the book carefully, sounding out some of the words. "Herbs. We need... these aren't easy to get." She looks up, dismayed. "Did you? I mean, you read the spell, did you manage to find them?"
"Yes. I special ordered them, they got here late last night," Parker says briskly. "Otherwise, we would have been trying this sooner. Don't worry, all of them are here."
"I'll never doubt you again," Tara vows. "Okay, can someone light them and smudge the room? Um, wave them around, I mean. Meanwhile... I have a circle to cast."
"I can do that," Angela says. She takes the herbs and, fumbling, lights them from a book of matches.
"Um ... how exactly do I do this?"
Through her tension, Tara smiles a little. "Just wave them around the room. Think of it like air freshener. Stinky, magical air freshener."
She lays a trail of sea salt in a circle, leaving a hands-breadth open for the time being. "Who has the Orb?"
"Got it," Angela says. She walks slowly around the shop, waving the burning plants. The air fills with their acrid scent.
"I know Marty has the Orb here," she says nervously. "Mr. Phale, do you know where he put it?"
"It's locked away. Let me get it for you." Aziraphale walks over to one of the closed cupboards and touches the lock. The door swings open, and he reaches into the back to retrieve a cloth-wrapped box from the topshelf, along with a second small object wrapped in a handkerchief.
He brings both of them over to Tara's circle. "The orb is in the box. The other is the means that Crowley created for pinpointing the location of the soul."
Tara accepts both wrapped objects, carefully opening the box with the orb. "People use them as paperweights," she murmurs, stroking her fingers over it in wonder. "And it's going to house someone's soul."
Turning her attention to the other object, she unfolds the handkerchief. "Um, how does this work? Do you know?"
"I believe there's an incantation. Crowley will know it -- I'll fetch him for you."
What is it, angel? I'm quite busy...really. [He looks at those assembled and hisses in Aziraphale's ear] I'm not supposed to be near the witch.
"She needs the incantation, dear boy. You're the only one who knows it. But if you like, tell me, and I'll pass it along."
He places a reassuring hand on Crowley's arm.
[He sighs heavily and moves to the vial. Placing his hand outstretched above it, he chants.]
Io richiesta sola questa anima
Portilame
Portilame
Portilame
[The glittering substance parts inside the crystal, a hole opening on one side with a deep red glow visible far in the distance.]
Don't stare into it. Do your ritual, Witch. [His eyes slide from Tara to Shane, and then to the rest in turn. Looking at the tension and fear inthe room, he calmly pulls out his cigarette case from his pocket and turns to Aziraphale.] I'll help best outside, angel. Call me if you need me. [He moves smoothly, but quickly, to the door, and stands outside smoking...unobtrusively guarding the Shop from there.]
"Tell me what you need me to do. Am I standing in the wrong place?" Parker is looking unsettled. "Or do you need me farther back, or..."
"You're fine," Tara replies, trying to keep her voice calm. This is hard enough without Parker clouding the air with tense vibes, and did she really just think that?
"I need you to think positive, okay? For this to work... it's going to take a lot of energy, and the more you worry the harder isn't going to be. So just... relax?"
She winces, knowing that's the hardest thing she could ask Parker to do.
"Okay," Parker says, sounding almost subdued. For her, anyway. "I'll just-- concentrate. I'm good at that." She's almost smiling, and she's only turning the silver ring on her finger now, not pacing any more.
"Thank you," Tara murmurs, smiling softly. "Turn your energy into believing this will work. You've done all the hard parts. My part... well, it's easy, compared to that."
Biting her lip, Tara motions Crowley to back out of the circle, closing the last section with salt. This is too fast. She wasn't ready. But he's already started it, and she doesn't know how long she has to work.
Her eyes find Shane, briefly panicked, before she turns her attention to the book, and her energy to Orb of Thesulah.
Aziraphale puts a gentle hand on Tara's shoulder as he stands behind her in the circle. "It's all right, my dear. You have time to do what needs doing. It's stable enough to last for a bit."
Tara covers Aziraphale's hand with her own for a moment, letting out her breath in a conscious effort to calm and still her mind.
Brushing away a section of the circle, she looks at Shane pleadingly."Be my anchor?"
Shane's gaze is steady and reassuring. "Whatever you need, love," she says calmly. "Just tell me what to do."
"Sit near me, in the circle," Tara says. "Give me something to come back to."
Nodding, Shane steps inside the circle and takes a seat close behind Tara, long legs bracketing hers on either side. It's a position that's rather painfully familiar to her, by now, but it's also a protective one. If someone or something comes through that door, it has to get through her, first.
She looks over at Angela. "Smudging done? Are we ready?"
Angela, who has been watching the action with some confusion, nods."Yeah. I mean, I've never done this before, but ... I think we're good."
"Yeah, we're good," Tara repeats, leaning over to close the circle again.
Taking yet another a deep breath, she begins.
"Reda trupului ce separa omul de animal.
Quod perditum est, invenietur."
A faint speck appears in the centre of the Orb, the shadow of a glow.
Standing far enough back to allow room for Shane, Aziraphale places both hands on Tara's shoulders and closes his eyes.
"Praeses quicumque substantia corporeus,
quicumque substantia viscera,
quicumque substantia animus."
Tara's eyes are open, fixed on the red light moving through the glittering vial, which spreads as she chants, strong and steady.
Watching over Tara's shoulder, Shane's eyes widen slightly as she sees the ember of light appear inside the Orb, almost as though it has a life of its own that's starting to form. As Tara murmurs the incantation, she can feel her skin begin to prickle very slightly.
"Te implor Doamne, nu ignora aceasta rugaminte.
Nici mort, nici al fiintei..."
Tara's voice grows louder, the red in the locator beginning to fade as the glow in the Orb grows stronger, casting a diffuse light throughout the entire circle. Her muscles tremor slightly, sweat beading at her forehead.
All the things that didn't happen when Parker tried this, are happening now...
She'd be jealous, except it's deeply, deeply unsettling.
A faint white glow, barely visible, begins to form around Aziraphale and the two young women in the circle.
Angela stands back, watching the process. She feels the power of the spell course through her; it feels as though she's standing very close to something very hot.
Shouting now, as the light in the Orb fills to bursting, far eclipsing Aziraphale's faint energizing light.
"Te invoc, spirit al trecerii!
Lasa orbita as fie vasul care-i
va transporta sufleutul la el!"
This is the biggest thing Tara's ever done, the power coursing through the very marrow of her bones, and she understands now. Understands why Willow got addicted to this, the seductive lure of it. White fire, licking through her, the pleasure/pain of orgasm, but power, so much power, and she holds his fate in her hands.
If she stops, he goes free. If she says the last few words, he is locked in the prison of his own mind. Her choice. Her power. Yesssssss.
Feeling as though she's just inches from a live wire, Shane realizes that something's not right. Reaching out, she grasps Tara's shoulders in an attempt to ground her.
Warm weight, pressure on her shoulders. Blessed, physical pressure, but it makes her skin crawl all over. It's not good any more. It burns,sickens her. She doesn't want this power, doesn't want this choice. She just wants it to be over.
Parker is watching, eyes narrowed, fists clenched. One wrong word, and she's going to take action. She hates that she has to wait, can't do this herself.
Angela sees the tension in Parker's pose. She doesn't want to say anything, to risk breaking Tara's concentration, but she shifts to stand closer to Parker and silently holds out her hand for Parker to take, if she wants.
Surprising herself and Angela both, she suspects, Parker takes the offered hand, and holds on tightly, putting aside as much of her fear as she can. Concentrating on believing in Tara and the spell at the same time, thinking, Let it work, let it work, let it work....
Angela squeezes Parker's hand once and opens her eyes just enough to glance at the other girl.
Then she gives herself over to believing in the spell as hard as she can believe in anything.
"Excito, recidivus, recidivus,
lasa orbita excito, ardens animus
Asa sa fie.
Asa sa fie.
Acum.
Acum...."
Not a bang, but a whimper. The light in the orb flares and dies, leaving the crystal dark and cold.
Parker stares at the now-cold orb. "I think... that was it," she says, her voice low.
Tara's breath comes in harsh, rasping shudders, her eyes unseeing as she leans against Shane for support.
"Shh, shhh... it's okay, I've got you, now," Shane murmurs, gently stroking Tara's hair. "It's over, now. You did so good, baby."
"How is she?" Parker asks, studying Tara with concern.
"Wiped," Shane answers honestly. She rests her lips against Tara's temple, one hand gently rubbing Tara's arm. "And still kinda out of it, but... she'll be all right."
Aziraphale walks slowly over and lays a hand on Tara's shoulder, closing his eyes for a moment. He directs a gentle flow of energy to her -- not enough to replace all she's lost, but just enough to allow her to recover on her own without fear of illness or permanent damage.
Looking up at Mr. Phale, Shane offers him a small but infinitely grateful smile. "Thanks," she says quietly, hand reaching up to gently stroke Tara's cheek.
Nodding, Aziraphale gives Shane a small smile and moves away, going to sink down into one of the armchairs.
Tara is a little revived by the energy, her eyes regaining focus and her breathing slowing, though her bones still ache with weariness. She turns into Shane's embrace, grounding herself against that constant, solid presence.
"Good, baby," Shane whispers encouragingly, her voice smooth and warm as she holds her. "Just breathe. You can rest, now. You did good."
"It worked," she rasps, her voice barely a whisper. "I felt it travel through me. It's done."
"I knew you could do it," Shane says softly, nuzzling Tara's cheek. "I'm so proud of you."
Tara's breathing is still labored as Marty stumbles into the store. His face and head are bleeding and he is holding his arm in a strange way. He appears to be having some issues breathing.
"Is it done?"
Angela breaks away from Parker and stumbles over to Marty, stunned by what she has seen. "We think so," she said. "But ...it took a lot out of Tara."
She registers his injuries. "Are you -- what happened?"
"Jesus," Parker swears involuntarily. "You look like the last act of the Godfather."
Marty coughs and winces in pain. "Yeah... Just so you know: Drusilla? Yeah, she's a vampire."
Marty starts to sway a little on his feet and grabs onto the counter.
"We had a little chat about it."
"I knew it! I knew that freak wasn't human!" Parker shrieks even as she reaches for her cell and starts punching in numbers as fast as she can. "Angela, grab him, I'm calling a cab to get us the hell out of here-- is she still alive? Is she out there? Don't fall down, I think that'll hurt more."
Marty slowly slides down the side of the counter until he's sitting on the floor, holding one side of his chest and wincing as he does.
"She gone, but still alive. I think."
Angela sits beside Marty, holding his free hand with an almost desperate clutch. "You're alive, too. Stay with us. Please."
She absently watches Shane comforting Tara and Parker dialing the phone and wonders if cabs are even allowed on the island. But even if they aren't, she knows Parker will get one.
Marty gives Angela a weak smile. "I'm not going anywhere."
He gives Angela's hand a small squeeze and nods somewhat over at Shane and Tara. "They all right?"
Angela nods silenty at Marty, not exactly sure what to do.
Aziraphale kneels next to Marty, placing a hand on his injured arm. Warmth spreads from his hand, and anyone with a sense for magic will see a soft white glow as well.
"He'll be all right, my dear. I just put him to sleep. He's not feeling anything at the moment."
Angela gives Phale a grateful look. "Thank you."
He smiles. "Stay as long as necessary, all of you. Why don't we move Marty to the couch instead?"
Parker shuts the phone, pacing around the collapsed parties, looking worriedly at Marty and Tara. "The cabs will be here in ten minutes, I bribed a motor-rickshaw company for their best. God. Do you need, I don't know, water? Alcohol? Drugs? I can call for those too. Are they going to be okay?" she asks Phale, her fingers fiddling with her lighter.
"They'll be fine, my dear, I promise. Let's get everyone moved to someplace more comfortable." He notices her nervousness and adds, "There's tea and coffee in the kitchen, as well as sandwiches. Would you like to bring them out?"
"I can do that," Parker says, nodding vehemently. "I'll be right back." She heads into the kitchen, and retrieves cups for everyone, the tea and coffee service, and a plate of sandwiches that was in the refrigerator. Having something to do calms her down, and she's much less shaky when she returns. "Who wants what?"
"Tea?" Angela says, clearly making an effort to be relatively calm. "I couldn't eat yet."
"Drink a bit of tea, my dear," Aziraphale says softly. "It'll help settle your nerves."
Feeling comforted by Aziraphale's voice, Angela takes a sip of tea. It fills her with warmth and a kind of ease.
"We made it through," she says. "We did it, and we're here, and alive. That's ... that's what matters, isn't it?"
"Yeah," Shane says quietly, offering Angela a small, but decidedly warm smile. "We did."
She turns her attention back to Tara, gently stroking her hair back out of her face. "Baby, do you want some tea?" She asks softly. "Or something to eat?"
"Sweet," Tara croaks, unable to say any more. Her blood sugar is dangerously low, the spell having sapped all her energy.
"Okay," she says evenly, noting the way all of the color has drained from Tara's face. Reaching up, she gently cups Tara's cheek, thumb stroking over her damp skin.
A thoughtful crease appearing between her brows, Shane closes her eyes for a moment and concentrates on the contact of her fingertips against Tara's skin, visualizing a thin but steady flow of energy from herself to Tara.
Tara's aura strengthens where Shane touches, recognizing the beloved energy and accepting it immediately. The sickly tinge to her skin begins to fade as she presses her cheek into Shane's hand.
Feeling Tara press her cheek against her palm, Shane's lips draw back into a small, warm smile, her thumb lovingly stroking over Tara's cheek. Meanwhile, in her mind's eye, the slow, steady trickle of energy continues. She has more than enough... all that Tara can use...
Tara is a little revived by the energy, her eyes regaining focus and her breathing slowing, though her bones still ache with weariness. She turns into Shane's embrace, grounding herself against that constant, solid presence.
"There's cocoa, too, if you want it," Parker says diffidently. "That might help." She's so far out of her depth with this magic; and the feelings of the people around her aren't any better.
Hearing Parker's hesitant offer, Shane begins to imagine the stream of energy flowing from herself to Tara thinning and slowing and finally stopping.
She opens her eyes and looks up at Parker and smiles. "Thanks," she says quietly, nodding. "I just wanted to make sure she was comfortable, first."
"Yes," Parker says, looking from Tara to Marty, to Mr. Phale, then frowning. "But I really wish those cabs would get here already. You guys don't look well at all. "Mr. Phale? Are you all right? You look exhausted."
He smiles at Parker and responds in a soft voice. "Quite, my dear. Just need a bit of a rest."
Parker nods uncertainly, not entirely sure she should believe him, but not knowing what else to do.
Two motor-rickshaws pull up outside, and wait for Parker to stalk out and give them orders.
Noticing them, she shakes Marty's arm. "Hey. Come on. Wake up a little, we have to haul you out to our cab." She looks at Angela in concern. "Grab his other arm, will you?"
Angela, who had gone very very still from nerves and shock, came alive at the instruction. She helps Parker raise Marty to his feet, and the three of them stumble out to the curb.
"Are you two ready to go?" she asks over her shoulder to Tara and Shane.
"Yeah," Shane says, nodding. Gathering herself up off of the floor, she helps Tara to stand, one arm anchored firmly around her waist as she drapes Tara's arm around her neck. With the toe of her boot, she carefully smudges open the circle and helps Tara out of the shop.
"Take these two to Amber House-- smooth but fast, there's an extra twenty in if you get there in less than fifteen minutes," Parker tells the driver, peeling off dollar bills from the recesses of her wallet.
Parker dragged Marty into the rickshaw, with Angela pushing him from the other side, then handed a twenty to the driver. "Fandom High, clinic entrance, and push it as much as you can."
As soon as they were going, she was hitting buttons on the cell phone again. "Janet, Janet, pick up--" She left a message for Fraiser, then left one for the clinic, letting them know they were on their way with an unconscious Marty.
Then swallowed hard, and left one for the Dean. "It worked, sir. We're on our way back. Blank's hurt, we're taking him to the clinic. I'll be there if you want details."
She closed the phone with an audible snap, and then sighed, staring out into the night. "It better have worked."
[The door of the Shop flies open and Crowley stands there for a moment, his shirt torn to shreds and his wings unfurled. His glasses gone, his eyes flash red alone.]
Aziraphale...[he moves straight to the chair.]
[The angel feels so deeply tired, and he doesn't even notice the others have left the shop. He hears Crowley's voice, though, and summons up a weak smile for him.]
Dear boy. [His voice is a whisper.]
Angel, what have you done? [He lays his hands on Aziraphale, but he only feels cold. His voice is soft with concern.] What have you done?
She needed my help. And then she was so tired. And Marty...was injured. [His eyes drop closed as he speaks.] And the shop, keeping everything contained...even with your help, it's a drain.
Oh dear mercy...angel. [His voice cracks] I have no Grace, angel...how can I help?
Just stay with me.
[Aziraphale lifts a hand and touches the demon's cheek.] I'll be all right, dear boy. Don't worry.
[Gently, he scoops the angel up, as he has so often done for the demon, and carries him upstairs without so much as a word to those left in the Shop. He lays him softly on the bed and with a wave of his hand both banishes their clothes and seals the door. He lays down and wraps the angel in his wings. He's at a loss to help, but he tries.] DOn't leave me.
I won't, dear boy. [The whisper is felt more than heard, and the angels rests his head against Crowley's shoulder. His wings slowly unfurl, as he's no longer bothering to try and stop them.]
Stay with me.
I'll never leave you, angel. [His voice cracks in a hundred tones, and tears run down his cheeks.] Would HE even hear if I asked? If I begged?
[The angel's skin is cool, and the feathers of his wings seem dim. His form rests against the demon's as though without the energy to even move.]
I don't know. [There's a long, silent pause.] It isn't so bad, dear boy. I'm not going anywhere.
It is bad, angel. Lies don't become you. [He brushes the hair back from Aziraphale's forehead and kisses him lightly.]
[He sighs a little.] Crowley, I can't...the shop. I can't take care of it.
[This seems to agitate the angel, and he struggles a little in Crowley's arms.
I'll do it, angel. No worries on that front. I'll even be civil to Martin and Kiki. [He bows his head and puts his forehead against the angel's, and he prays.]
Lord, make me an instrument of your peace
Where there is hatred, let me sow love
Where there is injury, pardon
Where there is doubt, faith
Where there is despair, hope
Where there is darkness, light
And where there is sadness, joy
O divine master grant that I may
Not so much seek to be consoled as to console
To be understood as to understand
To be loved as to love
For it is in giving that we receive
And it's in pardoning that we are pardoned
And it's in dying that we are born
To eternal life
Amen.
[Tears slowly make their way down the angel's face as he listens to Crowley's words. He tilts his head slightly, and leans in to place a soft kiss on the demon's mouth, and then to whisper against his lips.]
I love you, Crowley.
Angel...I can't be here without you. Please...I lo--I want you to hold on. I need you. I love you. [He clings tightly trying to find anything like Grace within himself to give to Aziraphale.]
[Aziraphale burrows his face into Crowley's neck, the wetness from his tears still there.]
Stay with me. I won't go.
I'll stay, angel. I'll stay. [He shifts to hold the angel more securely, his arms and wings encircling him. He whispers over and over, more a plea than a prayer, simply trying to get His attention.]
Pater noster, qui es in caelis, sanctificetur nomen tuum. Adveniat regnum tuum. Fiat voluntas tua, sicut in caelo et in terra. Panem nostrum quotidianum da nobis hodie, et dimitte nobis debita nostra sicut et nos dimittimus debitoribus nostris. Et ne nos inducas in tentationem, sed libera nos a malo. Amen.
[OOC; This has been preplayed. IC interruptions are not possible. OOC comments are. Also, this is simultaneous to this, this and this.]
slightly older woman, and a young man -- approach Phale's bookstore.
They carry an assortment of bags and supplies, and the expressions on
their faces range from conflicted to scared senseless to resolute. But
any onlooker might detect a certain sense of purpose common to all
members of the group.
One girl, an artificial redhead, makes an effort to square her shoulders and quit looking like she expects the boogieman to jump out at any second and sends a wan smile to the people walking with her. "This will all be over soon," she mutters, grimly. "However it goes."
And then the really hard part will begin," Tara says softly, obviously unhappy with what she has to do.
"Hard for who? Angelus? Good. It should be. Us?" Parker shakes her head. "As long as no one else dies, we'll manage the rest of it."
"No dying," Angela says. "Let's just not ... think about that, okay?" She looks at Tara. "Everything okay? You can do this. I know you can."
"I can do it," Tara replies. "But... we're locking him up inside the most awful prison possible. I don't want to trivialize that. What we're doing isn't right. It's just... it's just what we have to do."
"He'll be alive," Angela says. "Which is more he gave Kitty, or the hundreds of other people he's met."
She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. "I mean ... I understand why you think it's a cruel spell. But from what you Sunnydale people say, he'll deal."
"He'll deal," Tara repeats, holding on to that thought. "In another decade or so he'll fight his way free. This way, he gets a chance. The other way..." doesn't bear mentioning. So she doesn't.
Parker turned, stopping Tara. "Don't count on it."
She made sure Tara was looking at her, and then said, "And if you're going to wimp out? Speak now, and get the hell out of my way, so I can find someone who won't. I'm not trivializing jack. It sounds like you are. Commit to this, once and for all. I've accepted that whatever comes is on our heads. And that includes killing him if this doesn't work."
The wind blows her hair into her eyes as she glares at Tara. "And if you want to turn me in afterwards, I'll show *you* an ethics exercise in accepting consequences. I'll turn myself in, if it makes you happy. But either this works, or it's the stake. Understood, Professor Maclay?"
"This will work," Tara replies, her tone cold and her eyes sad. "But Idon't have to like it. I just have to do my job."
Meeting Parker's eyes, Tara glares right back. "And I'll do it."
Shane listens to their discussion but remains quiet, hand gently resting between Tara's shoulder blades as she stands close beside her. She knows
that her input on the whole situation would only complicate things and that's not what she's here for. She's here to help her friends.
Marty follows behind everyone, stopping occasionally to listen closely and check the surroundings. Like most of his time at Fandom, he's tuned Parker out.
"Good. Let's get this done." Parker is reaching for the door to Aziraphale's shop, when she stops.
"Did you hear something?"
Wincing at the argument, Angela stands perfectly still, moving her head only a little to help her hear. She nods at Parker. "I think so," she says softly.
"Marty?"
Marty looks off into the distance and cocks his head trying to listen.
"Shit," he mutters under his breath. He gives Angela the key and quick kiss. "Go do what you have to do. I'll be back as soon as I can. Stay inside until I get back."
Angela kisses him back. "Be careful. Really. I love you," she says softly, then sadly watches him go. She is resigned to it even as she hates it.
"He's armed, at least," she says aloud. "God, how did my life get to the point where I have to think about that?"
She puts the key in the lock and turns it.
Parker shakes her head, looking worried. "Be careful!" she yells after Marty, then awkwardly pats Angela on the shoulder. "I'm sure it's nothing. He'll be back in a minute."
She doesn't sound like she believes it.
Shane's eyes follow Marty as he goes but then turns her attention back to her friends. "He'll be all right, Angela," she says quietly, calmly, her tone reassuring and certain. "We'll be all right."
Her fingertips drift down along Tara's arm and she clasps her hand, lacing their fingers together. She knows that Tara will need as much moral support, if not magical, as she can muster.
The warmth in Shane's tone comforts Angela, a tiny bit. "We will," she says, still not sounding sure.
Aziraphale had closed up the shop early, in expectation of some guests. The door is locked, and in fact at the moment only one of the keys he's given out will actually open it. He's drawn the curtains on the windows as well, and is sitting in his armchair and waiting.
Worrying about Marty almost as much as she's worried by what they have to do, Angela unlocks the door and gestures Parker, Tara and Shane inside. "Mr. Phale?" she calls. "We're here."
Aziraphale stands immediately, holding the door open and locking it again behind Angela. "Please come in, my dear. I've cleared space in the back, in the reading lounge, for you."
He smiles at the young women, exuding an air of reassuring strength. "Is Marty not joining us?"
"We heard something. He went to check it out," Angela says, simply. "He should be here in a minute."
She hopes like hell this is true.
"I'll watch for him, Angela. Don't worry," Aziraphale says.
Parker goes to the bookcase, and takes down the volume that has the spell. "Thank you for letting us do this here, Mr. Phale. And for keeping this safe." She brings the book out. "Professor Maclay? Here it is. What do we need to do?"
Tara scans the book carefully, sounding out some of the words. "Herbs. We need... these aren't easy to get." She looks up, dismayed. "Did you? I mean, you read the spell, did you manage to find them?"
"Yes. I special ordered them, they got here late last night," Parker says briskly. "Otherwise, we would have been trying this sooner. Don't worry, all of them are here."
"I'll never doubt you again," Tara vows. "Okay, can someone light them and smudge the room? Um, wave them around, I mean. Meanwhile... I have a circle to cast."
"I can do that," Angela says. She takes the herbs and, fumbling, lights them from a book of matches.
"Um ... how exactly do I do this?"
Through her tension, Tara smiles a little. "Just wave them around the room. Think of it like air freshener. Stinky, magical air freshener."
She lays a trail of sea salt in a circle, leaving a hands-breadth open for the time being. "Who has the Orb?"
"Got it," Angela says. She walks slowly around the shop, waving the burning plants. The air fills with their acrid scent.
"I know Marty has the Orb here," she says nervously. "Mr. Phale, do you know where he put it?"
"It's locked away. Let me get it for you." Aziraphale walks over to one of the closed cupboards and touches the lock. The door swings open, and he reaches into the back to retrieve a cloth-wrapped box from the topshelf, along with a second small object wrapped in a handkerchief.
He brings both of them over to Tara's circle. "The orb is in the box. The other is the means that Crowley created for pinpointing the location of the soul."
Tara accepts both wrapped objects, carefully opening the box with the orb. "People use them as paperweights," she murmurs, stroking her fingers over it in wonder. "And it's going to house someone's soul."
Turning her attention to the other object, she unfolds the handkerchief. "Um, how does this work? Do you know?"
"I believe there's an incantation. Crowley will know it -- I'll fetch him for you."
What is it, angel? I'm quite busy...really. [He looks at those assembled and hisses in Aziraphale's ear] I'm not supposed to be near the witch.
"She needs the incantation, dear boy. You're the only one who knows it. But if you like, tell me, and I'll pass it along."
He places a reassuring hand on Crowley's arm.
[He sighs heavily and moves to the vial. Placing his hand outstretched above it, he chants.]
Io richiesta sola questa anima
Portilame
Portilame
Portilame
[The glittering substance parts inside the crystal, a hole opening on one side with a deep red glow visible far in the distance.]
Don't stare into it. Do your ritual, Witch. [His eyes slide from Tara to Shane, and then to the rest in turn. Looking at the tension and fear inthe room, he calmly pulls out his cigarette case from his pocket and turns to Aziraphale.] I'll help best outside, angel. Call me if you need me. [He moves smoothly, but quickly, to the door, and stands outside smoking...unobtrusively guarding the Shop from there.]
"Tell me what you need me to do. Am I standing in the wrong place?" Parker is looking unsettled. "Or do you need me farther back, or..."
"You're fine," Tara replies, trying to keep her voice calm. This is hard enough without Parker clouding the air with tense vibes, and did she really just think that?
"I need you to think positive, okay? For this to work... it's going to take a lot of energy, and the more you worry the harder isn't going to be. So just... relax?"
She winces, knowing that's the hardest thing she could ask Parker to do.
"Okay," Parker says, sounding almost subdued. For her, anyway. "I'll just-- concentrate. I'm good at that." She's almost smiling, and she's only turning the silver ring on her finger now, not pacing any more.
"Thank you," Tara murmurs, smiling softly. "Turn your energy into believing this will work. You've done all the hard parts. My part... well, it's easy, compared to that."
Biting her lip, Tara motions Crowley to back out of the circle, closing the last section with salt. This is too fast. She wasn't ready. But he's already started it, and she doesn't know how long she has to work.
Her eyes find Shane, briefly panicked, before she turns her attention to the book, and her energy to Orb of Thesulah.
Aziraphale puts a gentle hand on Tara's shoulder as he stands behind her in the circle. "It's all right, my dear. You have time to do what needs doing. It's stable enough to last for a bit."
Tara covers Aziraphale's hand with her own for a moment, letting out her breath in a conscious effort to calm and still her mind.
Brushing away a section of the circle, she looks at Shane pleadingly."Be my anchor?"
Shane's gaze is steady and reassuring. "Whatever you need, love," she says calmly. "Just tell me what to do."
"Sit near me, in the circle," Tara says. "Give me something to come back to."
Nodding, Shane steps inside the circle and takes a seat close behind Tara, long legs bracketing hers on either side. It's a position that's rather painfully familiar to her, by now, but it's also a protective one. If someone or something comes through that door, it has to get through her, first.
She looks over at Angela. "Smudging done? Are we ready?"
Angela, who has been watching the action with some confusion, nods."Yeah. I mean, I've never done this before, but ... I think we're good."
"Yeah, we're good," Tara repeats, leaning over to close the circle again.
Taking yet another a deep breath, she begins.
"Reda trupului ce separa omul de animal.
Quod perditum est, invenietur."
A faint speck appears in the centre of the Orb, the shadow of a glow.
Standing far enough back to allow room for Shane, Aziraphale places both hands on Tara's shoulders and closes his eyes.
"Praeses quicumque substantia corporeus,
quicumque substantia viscera,
quicumque substantia animus."
Tara's eyes are open, fixed on the red light moving through the glittering vial, which spreads as she chants, strong and steady.
Watching over Tara's shoulder, Shane's eyes widen slightly as she sees the ember of light appear inside the Orb, almost as though it has a life of its own that's starting to form. As Tara murmurs the incantation, she can feel her skin begin to prickle very slightly.
"Te implor Doamne, nu ignora aceasta rugaminte.
Nici mort, nici al fiintei..."
Tara's voice grows louder, the red in the locator beginning to fade as the glow in the Orb grows stronger, casting a diffuse light throughout the entire circle. Her muscles tremor slightly, sweat beading at her forehead.
All the things that didn't happen when Parker tried this, are happening now...
She'd be jealous, except it's deeply, deeply unsettling.
A faint white glow, barely visible, begins to form around Aziraphale and the two young women in the circle.
Angela stands back, watching the process. She feels the power of the spell course through her; it feels as though she's standing very close to something very hot.
Shouting now, as the light in the Orb fills to bursting, far eclipsing Aziraphale's faint energizing light.
"Te invoc, spirit al trecerii!
Lasa orbita as fie vasul care-i
va transporta sufleutul la el!"
This is the biggest thing Tara's ever done, the power coursing through the very marrow of her bones, and she understands now. Understands why Willow got addicted to this, the seductive lure of it. White fire, licking through her, the pleasure/pain of orgasm, but power, so much power, and she holds his fate in her hands.
If she stops, he goes free. If she says the last few words, he is locked in the prison of his own mind. Her choice. Her power. Yesssssss.
Feeling as though she's just inches from a live wire, Shane realizes that something's not right. Reaching out, she grasps Tara's shoulders in an attempt to ground her.
Warm weight, pressure on her shoulders. Blessed, physical pressure, but it makes her skin crawl all over. It's not good any more. It burns,sickens her. She doesn't want this power, doesn't want this choice. She just wants it to be over.
Parker is watching, eyes narrowed, fists clenched. One wrong word, and she's going to take action. She hates that she has to wait, can't do this herself.
Angela sees the tension in Parker's pose. She doesn't want to say anything, to risk breaking Tara's concentration, but she shifts to stand closer to Parker and silently holds out her hand for Parker to take, if she wants.
Surprising herself and Angela both, she suspects, Parker takes the offered hand, and holds on tightly, putting aside as much of her fear as she can. Concentrating on believing in Tara and the spell at the same time, thinking, Let it work, let it work, let it work....
Angela squeezes Parker's hand once and opens her eyes just enough to glance at the other girl.
Then she gives herself over to believing in the spell as hard as she can believe in anything.
"Excito, recidivus, recidivus,
lasa orbita excito, ardens animus
Asa sa fie.
Asa sa fie.
Acum.
Acum...."
Not a bang, but a whimper. The light in the orb flares and dies, leaving the crystal dark and cold.
Parker stares at the now-cold orb. "I think... that was it," she says, her voice low.
Tara's breath comes in harsh, rasping shudders, her eyes unseeing as she leans against Shane for support.
"Shh, shhh... it's okay, I've got you, now," Shane murmurs, gently stroking Tara's hair. "It's over, now. You did so good, baby."
"How is she?" Parker asks, studying Tara with concern.
"Wiped," Shane answers honestly. She rests her lips against Tara's temple, one hand gently rubbing Tara's arm. "And still kinda out of it, but... she'll be all right."
Aziraphale walks slowly over and lays a hand on Tara's shoulder, closing his eyes for a moment. He directs a gentle flow of energy to her -- not enough to replace all she's lost, but just enough to allow her to recover on her own without fear of illness or permanent damage.
Looking up at Mr. Phale, Shane offers him a small but infinitely grateful smile. "Thanks," she says quietly, hand reaching up to gently stroke Tara's cheek.
Nodding, Aziraphale gives Shane a small smile and moves away, going to sink down into one of the armchairs.
Tara is a little revived by the energy, her eyes regaining focus and her breathing slowing, though her bones still ache with weariness. She turns into Shane's embrace, grounding herself against that constant, solid presence.
"Good, baby," Shane whispers encouragingly, her voice smooth and warm as she holds her. "Just breathe. You can rest, now. You did good."
"It worked," she rasps, her voice barely a whisper. "I felt it travel through me. It's done."
"I knew you could do it," Shane says softly, nuzzling Tara's cheek. "I'm so proud of you."
Tara's breathing is still labored as Marty stumbles into the store. His face and head are bleeding and he is holding his arm in a strange way. He appears to be having some issues breathing.
"Is it done?"
Angela breaks away from Parker and stumbles over to Marty, stunned by what she has seen. "We think so," she said. "But ...it took a lot out of Tara."
She registers his injuries. "Are you -- what happened?"
"Jesus," Parker swears involuntarily. "You look like the last act of the Godfather."
Marty coughs and winces in pain. "Yeah... Just so you know: Drusilla? Yeah, she's a vampire."
Marty starts to sway a little on his feet and grabs onto the counter.
"We had a little chat about it."
"I knew it! I knew that freak wasn't human!" Parker shrieks even as she reaches for her cell and starts punching in numbers as fast as she can. "Angela, grab him, I'm calling a cab to get us the hell out of here-- is she still alive? Is she out there? Don't fall down, I think that'll hurt more."
Marty slowly slides down the side of the counter until he's sitting on the floor, holding one side of his chest and wincing as he does.
"She gone, but still alive. I think."
Angela sits beside Marty, holding his free hand with an almost desperate clutch. "You're alive, too. Stay with us. Please."
She absently watches Shane comforting Tara and Parker dialing the phone and wonders if cabs are even allowed on the island. But even if they aren't, she knows Parker will get one.
Marty gives Angela a weak smile. "I'm not going anywhere."
He gives Angela's hand a small squeeze and nods somewhat over at Shane and Tara. "They all right?"
Angela nods silenty at Marty, not exactly sure what to do.
Aziraphale kneels next to Marty, placing a hand on his injured arm. Warmth spreads from his hand, and anyone with a sense for magic will see a soft white glow as well.
"He'll be all right, my dear. I just put him to sleep. He's not feeling anything at the moment."
Angela gives Phale a grateful look. "Thank you."
He smiles. "Stay as long as necessary, all of you. Why don't we move Marty to the couch instead?"
Parker shuts the phone, pacing around the collapsed parties, looking worriedly at Marty and Tara. "The cabs will be here in ten minutes, I bribed a motor-rickshaw company for their best. God. Do you need, I don't know, water? Alcohol? Drugs? I can call for those too. Are they going to be okay?" she asks Phale, her fingers fiddling with her lighter.
"They'll be fine, my dear, I promise. Let's get everyone moved to someplace more comfortable." He notices her nervousness and adds, "There's tea and coffee in the kitchen, as well as sandwiches. Would you like to bring them out?"
"I can do that," Parker says, nodding vehemently. "I'll be right back." She heads into the kitchen, and retrieves cups for everyone, the tea and coffee service, and a plate of sandwiches that was in the refrigerator. Having something to do calms her down, and she's much less shaky when she returns. "Who wants what?"
"Tea?" Angela says, clearly making an effort to be relatively calm. "I couldn't eat yet."
"Drink a bit of tea, my dear," Aziraphale says softly. "It'll help settle your nerves."
Feeling comforted by Aziraphale's voice, Angela takes a sip of tea. It fills her with warmth and a kind of ease.
"We made it through," she says. "We did it, and we're here, and alive. That's ... that's what matters, isn't it?"
"Yeah," Shane says quietly, offering Angela a small, but decidedly warm smile. "We did."
She turns her attention back to Tara, gently stroking her hair back out of her face. "Baby, do you want some tea?" She asks softly. "Or something to eat?"
"Sweet," Tara croaks, unable to say any more. Her blood sugar is dangerously low, the spell having sapped all her energy.
"Okay," she says evenly, noting the way all of the color has drained from Tara's face. Reaching up, she gently cups Tara's cheek, thumb stroking over her damp skin.
A thoughtful crease appearing between her brows, Shane closes her eyes for a moment and concentrates on the contact of her fingertips against Tara's skin, visualizing a thin but steady flow of energy from herself to Tara.
Tara's aura strengthens where Shane touches, recognizing the beloved energy and accepting it immediately. The sickly tinge to her skin begins to fade as she presses her cheek into Shane's hand.
Feeling Tara press her cheek against her palm, Shane's lips draw back into a small, warm smile, her thumb lovingly stroking over Tara's cheek. Meanwhile, in her mind's eye, the slow, steady trickle of energy continues. She has more than enough... all that Tara can use...
Tara is a little revived by the energy, her eyes regaining focus and her breathing slowing, though her bones still ache with weariness. She turns into Shane's embrace, grounding herself against that constant, solid presence.
"There's cocoa, too, if you want it," Parker says diffidently. "That might help." She's so far out of her depth with this magic; and the feelings of the people around her aren't any better.
Hearing Parker's hesitant offer, Shane begins to imagine the stream of energy flowing from herself to Tara thinning and slowing and finally stopping.
She opens her eyes and looks up at Parker and smiles. "Thanks," she says quietly, nodding. "I just wanted to make sure she was comfortable, first."
"Yes," Parker says, looking from Tara to Marty, to Mr. Phale, then frowning. "But I really wish those cabs would get here already. You guys don't look well at all. "Mr. Phale? Are you all right? You look exhausted."
He smiles at Parker and responds in a soft voice. "Quite, my dear. Just need a bit of a rest."
Parker nods uncertainly, not entirely sure she should believe him, but not knowing what else to do.
Two motor-rickshaws pull up outside, and wait for Parker to stalk out and give them orders.
Noticing them, she shakes Marty's arm. "Hey. Come on. Wake up a little, we have to haul you out to our cab." She looks at Angela in concern. "Grab his other arm, will you?"
Angela, who had gone very very still from nerves and shock, came alive at the instruction. She helps Parker raise Marty to his feet, and the three of them stumble out to the curb.
"Are you two ready to go?" she asks over her shoulder to Tara and Shane.
"Yeah," Shane says, nodding. Gathering herself up off of the floor, she helps Tara to stand, one arm anchored firmly around her waist as she drapes Tara's arm around her neck. With the toe of her boot, she carefully smudges open the circle and helps Tara out of the shop.
"Take these two to Amber House-- smooth but fast, there's an extra twenty in if you get there in less than fifteen minutes," Parker tells the driver, peeling off dollar bills from the recesses of her wallet.
Parker dragged Marty into the rickshaw, with Angela pushing him from the other side, then handed a twenty to the driver. "Fandom High, clinic entrance, and push it as much as you can."
As soon as they were going, she was hitting buttons on the cell phone again. "Janet, Janet, pick up--" She left a message for Fraiser, then left one for the clinic, letting them know they were on their way with an unconscious Marty.
Then swallowed hard, and left one for the Dean. "It worked, sir. We're on our way back. Blank's hurt, we're taking him to the clinic. I'll be there if you want details."
She closed the phone with an audible snap, and then sighed, staring out into the night. "It better have worked."
[The door of the Shop flies open and Crowley stands there for a moment, his shirt torn to shreds and his wings unfurled. His glasses gone, his eyes flash red alone.]
Aziraphale...[he moves straight to the chair.]
[The angel feels so deeply tired, and he doesn't even notice the others have left the shop. He hears Crowley's voice, though, and summons up a weak smile for him.]
Dear boy. [His voice is a whisper.]
Angel, what have you done? [He lays his hands on Aziraphale, but he only feels cold. His voice is soft with concern.] What have you done?
She needed my help. And then she was so tired. And Marty...was injured. [His eyes drop closed as he speaks.] And the shop, keeping everything contained...even with your help, it's a drain.
Oh dear mercy...angel. [His voice cracks] I have no Grace, angel...how can I help?
Just stay with me.
[Aziraphale lifts a hand and touches the demon's cheek.] I'll be all right, dear boy. Don't worry.
[Gently, he scoops the angel up, as he has so often done for the demon, and carries him upstairs without so much as a word to those left in the Shop. He lays him softly on the bed and with a wave of his hand both banishes their clothes and seals the door. He lays down and wraps the angel in his wings. He's at a loss to help, but he tries.] DOn't leave me.
I won't, dear boy. [The whisper is felt more than heard, and the angels rests his head against Crowley's shoulder. His wings slowly unfurl, as he's no longer bothering to try and stop them.]
Stay with me.
I'll never leave you, angel. [His voice cracks in a hundred tones, and tears run down his cheeks.] Would HE even hear if I asked? If I begged?
[The angel's skin is cool, and the feathers of his wings seem dim. His form rests against the demon's as though without the energy to even move.]
I don't know. [There's a long, silent pause.] It isn't so bad, dear boy. I'm not going anywhere.
It is bad, angel. Lies don't become you. [He brushes the hair back from Aziraphale's forehead and kisses him lightly.]
[He sighs a little.] Crowley, I can't...the shop. I can't take care of it.
[This seems to agitate the angel, and he struggles a little in Crowley's arms.
I'll do it, angel. No worries on that front. I'll even be civil to Martin and Kiki. [He bows his head and puts his forehead against the angel's, and he prays.]
Lord, make me an instrument of your peace
Where there is hatred, let me sow love
Where there is injury, pardon
Where there is doubt, faith
Where there is despair, hope
Where there is darkness, light
And where there is sadness, joy
O divine master grant that I may
Not so much seek to be consoled as to console
To be understood as to understand
To be loved as to love
For it is in giving that we receive
And it's in pardoning that we are pardoned
And it's in dying that we are born
To eternal life
Amen.
[Tears slowly make their way down the angel's face as he listens to Crowley's words. He tilts his head slightly, and leans in to place a soft kiss on the demon's mouth, and then to whisper against his lips.]
I love you, Crowley.
Angel...I can't be here without you. Please...I lo--I want you to hold on. I need you. I love you. [He clings tightly trying to find anything like Grace within himself to give to Aziraphale.]
[Aziraphale burrows his face into Crowley's neck, the wetness from his tears still there.]
Stay with me. I won't go.
I'll stay, angel. I'll stay. [He shifts to hold the angel more securely, his arms and wings encircling him. He whispers over and over, more a plea than a prayer, simply trying to get His attention.]
Pater noster, qui es in caelis, sanctificetur nomen tuum. Adveniat regnum tuum. Fiat voluntas tua, sicut in caelo et in terra. Panem nostrum quotidianum da nobis hodie, et dimitte nobis debita nostra sicut et nos dimittimus debitoribus nostris. Et ne nos inducas in tentationem, sed libera nos a malo. Amen.
[OOC; This has been preplayed. IC interruptions are not possible. OOC comments are. Also, this is simultaneous to this, this and this.]
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Beautiful work, everyone.