Title: Enemy Incognito

Author: Wynn

E-mail: effulgent_sun@hotmail.com

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters of Buffy the Vampire Slayer or Angel.  They are owned by Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, Twentieth Century Fox, UPN, the WB, etc.

AN: Please read: The last section of the chapter contains graphic fighting and violence between Xander, Anya, and Tyler.  Please be cautious if you are squeamish about such things.

Quote used from Orpheus.  Enemy's picked up a new nomination over at the Watching You Awards.  Many, many thanks to Eurydice for nominating EI!
 

Chapter Forty-Seven: Ashes to Ashes

By: Wynn
 

            When in doubt, follow your nose.  Especially one equipped with enhanced vampire senses.  Cordelia followed Angel up stairs, down hallways, and into rooms in the search for Connor, their meandering path guided by his lingering scent in the subterranean levels of the Watcher's Council, and with each step Angel took, his pace increased until the two were sprinting through the barren passageways, all Council personnel having abandoned the building after the uber-polite and ultra-creepy bomb threat.

            Angel came to a stop from a flat out run.  Cordelia barely dodged slamming into him, careening off into the wall instead.  That was going to leave a mark.  Super sharp reflexes unfortunately did not come with the higher being package.  Sure, Cordelia could manipulate the elements of the earth, a skill that came in handy with soul cleansing and escape from tiny steel cells, but there had been a choice between the fancy reflexes and the sparkly teleportation, and Cordelia had asked herself why would someone need to run fast and dodge quickly if they could just teleport any and everywhere?  So, immensely pleased with her logic, she chose the sparkles.

            But apparently there were situations that called for enhanced super being reflexes, and Cordelia had the massive bruise to prove it.

            Rubbing her elbow, Cordelia turned back towards Angel.  He stood before a plain grey door.  No numbers or signs adorned the door, and there was no handle or key pad or anything else that indicated how it could be opened or closed.  "Is he in there?" Cordelia asked.

            "Yes.  His scent's the strongest here.  It doesn't continue down the hall.  Just some residual traces, stuff that's drifted from here."  Angel ran his hands along the door frame, palms pressing lightly against the wall, but no secret panel popped open.  Sighing, he took a step back and said, "I don't see a way in.  Maybe we could pry the door open.  Or you could melt a hole through it like you did before."

            "Maybe.  There's probably an easier way though."

            "What?"

            "They wouldn't have a door that nobody could open.  That would be stupid.  And these guys may be candidates for Psychos Anonymous, but they're not complete morons.  So this door probably opens from the inside.  I can just pop in there, see if Connor is inside, and if he is, I open the door and we get him out."

            Angel glanced over his shoulder at Cordelia.  "What if they have guards inside?"

            "I am a higher being, Angel.  I can take a couple humans."

            His gaze dropped down to her elbow and he raised an eyebrow.  "You just ran into the wall."

            "Thanks to you, Mr. Bat Stop.  Next time we're involved in a life or death race against time, a little notice before you go sixty to zero would be nice."  Cordelia crossed the hall to stand next to Angel.  She laid a hand upon his arm as she said, "I'll be fine.  If there was anybody inside, they probably left already.  No one likes getting blown to bits.  Trust me."

            She stepped away from Angel and flashed a reassuring smile.  Her gaze turned towards the door.  Cordelia concentrated on the room beyond the door, on the space behind the door, and felt the familiar warmth stemming from trans-dimensional travel spread through her body.  The air shimmered before her, opalescent sparkles gleaming in the harsh fluorescent light illuminating the hallway, and the world dissolved around her, melting into abstraction like those clocks from the Salvador Dali painting Cordelia saw in her high school art class.  Her body slid forward, passing through the wall effortlessly, and the room behind the door materialized before her eyes.

            The room was large, twenty by twenty feet, and devoid of light, save for one lamp beside a rickety cot.  The bulb shed a faded yellow glow upon the form huddled on the mattress, the light strong enough for Cordelia to recognize the curled body as Connor.  A thick chain connected Connor's wrists to the legs of the bed, which were bolted to the floor.

            Cordelia resisted the urge to run to Connor, instead turning towards the door, where she saw a flat screen about the length and width of a human hand about halfway up the wall.  Moving next to the screen, Cordelia pressed her palm against it.  The door remained closed.  She examined the screen, fingers prodding along the edges, eyes scanning the rest of the room.  She pressed her palm against the screen again, took a deep breath, and closed her eyes.  Reaching out with her mind, Cordelia coaxed and caressed the elements surrounding her to move and slide against one another.  Crackles of electricity formed around her, and she drew the energy into her body and directed it through her arm, down to her palm, and into the flat panel.  The controls short-circuited, sending off blue arcs of electricity, and the door swished open.

            Angel cautiously stepped into the room, eyes fixed upon Cordelia.  His brows were drawn together in concern.  "What did you...?  Your hair..."

            Grimacing, Cordelia gingerly patted her hair, now frizzed and standing slightly off her head.  "I made a build up of static electricity in the air and used it to short circuit the door controls.  Hence the scary hair."

            "Are you alright-"  Angel spotted Connor and ran over to the bed.  Crouching next to it, her brushed a few damp strands of hair from Connor's face and whispered his name.  There was no response.  Angel leaned close to Connor and shook him, the tinkling of rattling chains echoing in the room.  A low, groggy moan escaped Connor's lips, and he opened his eyes, peering up at Angel through half-closed lids.

              "Dad..."  His voice was slurred and shaky.

            Relief washed across Angel's face.  "Yeah, Connor.  I'm here.  Cordy and I are here."

            "Cordy..."

            "Right here, baby."  Cordelia walked over to the bed and crouched next to Angel.  She grasped Connor's hand with her own; his palm was cold and clammy.  "Can you move, sweetie?  Did they hurt you?"

            Connor shook his head.  He struggled to a sitting position, his body held steady by Angel.  "Drug... they... a drug."

            Cordelia heard Angel's slow intake of breath.  She turned towards him and said, "You need to break these chains so we can get him out.  I'll hold Connor."

            "No."

            Cordelia spun towards the back wall, eyes widening as she saw Wesley enter the room through a door opposite the one she forced open.

            Angel stood, setting his body between Wesley and Connor.  "What do you mean by no?"

            Slowing to a stop halfway across the room, Wesley said, "I mean that there's a spell on the chains.  You can't break them.  If you try, you'll only hurt yourself and Connor."

            "Then how the hell are we supposed to get him out of here?  I am not leaving my son-"

            "Calm down, Angel."  Wesley held up his hand and revealed a brass key within his grasp.  "I have the key."  Moving next to the bed, Wesley said to Connor, "I need you to lift your hands."

            Bleary eyes focused on Wesley, Connor lifted his hands.  Wesley inserted the key into the lock on one of the wrist cuffs and turned; the cuff slipped off Connor's wrist and crashed onto the floor.  Wesley repeated the action with Connor's other wrist and then stepped away from the cot, slipping the key into his pocket.  Angel stepped next to the bed and gently lifted Connor into his arms.

            Cordelia looked at Wesley.  "Where are the others?  Dawn?  And-"

            "Cordelia, there's no time.  I'll explain everything once we're out of the building, but we must leave now.  Please be satisfied with the answer that we divided up and everyone will be rescued."  Wesley turned from Angel, Connor, and Cordelia and walked back towards the open door he entered through.  "This way is faster."

            Cordelia followed Wesley across the room.  She looked back towards Angel and Connor and raised an eyebrow at Angel's failure to follow.  He sighed and followed them out of the room and into the hallway.  Wesley stood a few feet down the left side of the hall, gaze directed at the stairs lying at the end of the passageway.  He turned back towards Angel and Cordelia and pointed down the right side of the hall.  "There's a staircase at the end of this passageway.  It should be the same one you were brought down.  Go up one floor and you'll find your way out.  Simmons is waiting outside with the van."

            Frowning, Cordelia said, "Where are you going?  What about the bomb?"

            Wesley started to jog down the left side of the hall.  "Don't worry about me.  Just get out of the building."

            Cordelia watched Wesley move down the hallway.  She locked gazes with Angel.  A moment passed and then he nodded.  "Don't stay too long," he said.  "The-"

            "I know.  Go.  Get him out of here."

            Angel started moving down the right side of the hallway, Connor gripped tightly within his arms.  He stopped after a few paces and turned back towards Cordelia.  "I love you."

            She smiled and felt her face warm with a flush of pleasure.  "I love you.  See you on the upside."  She watched Angel turn and run down the hall towards the staircase.  Spinning on her heels, Cordelia took off after Wesley.  She caught up with him by the stairs.  "What exactly do you think you're doing?" she asked, yanking him to a stop.  "I thought you had gotten past your suicidal tendencies phase."

            "I am not suicidal, Cordelia.  Now please let me go.  I need to-"

            "What?  To get yourself killed?"

            "I need to go after Lilah."  Wesley looked at Cordelia, his blue eyes serious, anxious, and angry.  "There's about ten minutes left.  The Council is in chaos.  Lilah has something planned, I know it, and whatever it is it can't be good.  I have to stop her."

            "Fine.  I'll go with you."  She started down the staircase but was pulled to a stop by Wesley.

            "No.  It's too risky."

            "Why?  You'll be out of here before the bomb goes.  What's the danger?"

            "Lilah is the danger," Wesley said as he moved past Cordelia, pushing her back up the stairs.  "A danger I can deal with.  Alone.  You're needed with Angel and Connor."

            They stared at each other for a few moments, caught in an impasse, before Cordelia nodded and said, "Your butt better be up there in nine minutes or I am coming in here after you, Lilah or no Lilah, got it?"

            "Yes, Cordelia."

            She hugged Wesley, her arms latching around his neck as his lightly encircled her waist.  "Be careful."

            "I will."

            Cordelia pulled away from Wesley and moved back up the stairs.  Her eyes followed his descent down the steps and then she turned her gaze towards the ceiling, focused on the sidewalk outside the Watcher's Council, and disappeared in a shower of light and sparkles.

            Willow shivered as she entered the cell.  The air was bitingly cold, and it reminded her of the air inside a morgue or a hospital.  Stationery and antiseptic.  She halted a few feet inside the room, directly behind Emilia, as a pressure built up within her mind, attempting to force her consciousness down into a deep, ephemeral hole.

            "What is that?  Do you feel it?"

            Emilia nodded.  "It's from the event horizon, a device used to imprison telepaths, anyone with any sort of psychic abilities.  Normally it's directed inward towards whatever person is forced to wear it, but some of it leaks out and lingers in the atmosphere... like poison."

            "Psychic pollution."  Willow stepped around Emilia to look inside the cell.  A young woman with long black tipped silver hair sat slumped in a wood chair in the center of the room; her arms and legs were tied to the chair with thick leather restraints.  A stone of ebony encased within a metal band was perched on her forehead.

            "Is that your daughter?  Christina?"

            Emilia nodded again.  Her skin had turned a pasty white, and she trembled.  Tears pooled within her violet eyes as she gazed upon her daughter, and she clenched her skirt within fisted hands.

            "Is there a way the device can be removed?" Giles asked.  He stepped away from Emilia towards Christina, his grey eyes intent upon the metal mental prison.

            "Y-yes.  You just have to take it off her head.  She can't do it herself.  It doesn't let her."  Emilia shuddered.  "It hurts her when she tries."

            Giles approached Christina.  He gently grasped the metal ring, slid it off of her head, and dropped it on the ground.  Emilia and Willow rushed forward as Giles moved Christina to an upright position.  Her face was pale and slick with sweat; dark rings circled her closed eyes.  Her hair clung to her head in sticky clumps.

            As Giles worked to release her from her leather binds, Emilia kneeled before Christina and laid a hand upon her cheek.  "Christina... Chris, wake up.  Please, darling, wake up... Christina..."

            Christina jerked, her body straining against the restraints, her back arched high off the chair.  Her eyes fluttered but failed to open all the way.  Willow slipped around Giles and lifted the event horizon off the floor.  Mystical energy pulsed off the ebony stone, sending jolts of dark magic careening through the room.  She glanced at Christina and then back at the ebony stone.  Head buzzing faintly from the powerful enchantments, Willow held the device at arms length and said, "Can this thing be destroyed?"

            Emilia glanced over her shoulder.  "Yes.  Smash it."

            A wicked smirk tugged at Willow's lips, and she knew her eyes were black with magic.  "Good."  The event horizon lifted off her hands and spun in the air.  Her gaze snapped to the far wall and the metal ring flew across the room and crashed and smashed into miniscule pieces.  The force of the impact sent black shards deep within the wall.  A last pulse of energy shot through the room before the buzzing inside Willow's head faded.

            Christina gasped.  Her eyes flew open, revealing confused, panicked grey eyes.  She drew in shaky, stilted breaths and struggled against the restraints.

            Emilia smoothed her hands over Christina's hair.  "Christina, shh.  You're safe now.  You're safe now, darling.  I'm here.  No one's going to hurt you anymore."

            "M-mum?"  Christina slumped back against the chair.  Her breathing calmed and she blinked a few times as she focused on Emilia.  "Mum?  You... you're here?  For me?"

            "Yes.  For you."  Standing, Emilia grasped Christina's hands and slid them from the now slack restraints.  "Can you stand?  We need to get out of here."

            "I- I don't know.  Everything's a bit... off.  I..."  With shaky arms, Christina pushed herself to a standing position, body trembling from exhaustion both physical and mental.  Her knees buckled, but Giles grabbed her before she could fall, his hands clutching her elbows and holding her steady.  Christina blinked and looked at Giles.  She drew in a sharp intake of breath and said, "You're Ripper."

            Startled, Giles glanced from Emilia to Christina.  "Um, yes, I am-"

            "We have to go now, Rupert," Emilia said.  She knelt beside Willow and helped remove the last of the leather bindings from around Christina's ankles.  "Time's fading quickly."

            Willow walked over to the open cell door as Giles and Emilia helped Christina cross the room.  As the trio passed by, Christina glanced up at Willow through her tangled hair.  "Gold and black and red," she murmured.  Her rich raspy voice resonated within Willow, causing goose flesh to appear on her bare arms.

            "What, what is she saying?"

            Shrugging, Emilia said, "I don't know.  She probably doesn't know either, what with the delirium from the event horizon.  She-"

            "No."  Christina jerked to a stop outside the cell, her gaze directed at the ceiling.  Pain flashed across her face, and she bit her trembling lip.  "No... don't."

            "Christina-"

            "Charles... no.  Don't."  Eyes snapping to Emilia, Christina said, "We have to go to him.  We have to help him."

            "We can't help him.  We have to leave now.  There's a-"

            "I don't care!"  Christina pulled out of Giles and Emilia's grasps and took a couple stumbling steps down the hall.  "He's there.  He's got him and we need to be there."

            Striding forward, Emilia grabbed Christina's arm and spun her around.  Violet eyes flashing, she said, "No, we do not need to be there.  Charles doesn't need to be there either, but he's blinded by his single mindedness-"

            "What are you talking about?  This is what all of us, you, me, and Charles, have dreamt of for months.  Revenge.  Retribution against Quentin Travers for what he did.  And it's finally here.  He's finally here, at our fingertips, and you're balking.  I can't believe you.  She was your sister-"

            "Yes.  She was my sister.  And yes I wanted vengeance.  I wanted Travers dead five times over many, many times.  But murder is not what Ariana would have wanted.  Not against Travers.  Not against anyone.  And I will not disparage her memory by killing.  Travers has already lost."

            "But Charles..."

            Emilia sighed.  "He knows what he's doing.  He chose to go after Travers.  He wanted to.  Nobody can change his mind for him."  She adjusted her grip on Christina's arm and slid it over her shoulder.  She led Christina back down the hallway towards the staircase and the exit, Giles and Willow following silently behind.  As they passed under the arch of the stairwell, Emilia looked up and whispered, "His fate is his own to decide."

            Anya now understood what it meant to be frozen to the spot with terror.  Her mind screamed at her to move, to fight, to do something but stand and stare at an advancing Tyler and his electric cattle prod, but her body chose not to obey, instead obstinately remaining motionless with fright.  It was as though she had stepped from her body and was now watching some horror movie featured on late night cable television Xander used to watch.  The setting felt unreal, too horrible to be true and completely incomprehensible.  She knew she was going to die, painfully, slowly, and she wondered if she too would go to heaven like Buffy had or if her thousand years of vengeance had relegated her to one of the more tortuous levels of hell.

            She started out of her stupor when Xander stepped in front of her, coming between her and Tyler.  He shoved her back into the corner of the room and turned to face Tyler.  Anya slumped against the wall, wide eyes horrified and glued on a smirking Tyler.

            "You don't want to play hero, Xander.  Trust me.  It'll only get you hurt, and this has nothing to do with you.  It's between me and Anya."  His gaze flickered over to Anya, and she flinched from the undiluted malice residing in his eyes.  Faded bruises still colored his flesh from her attack on him in the alley outside his dojo.  Ugly, half-healed cuts and scrapes were scattered across his hands.  Looking back at Xander, Tyler pointed over his shoulder towards the door.  "If you want I can open the door for you and let you out.  You go on your merry way, live your life, have lots of fat children, I don't care.  You leave, and Anya stays, and I have my fun.   What do you say?"

            "You're fucking nuts."

            "Ouch.  You wound me, Xander.  Such harsh language.  There's nothing crazy about this or about me, Xander.  This is cold, calculated revenge for a cold, calculated act of vengeance committed by Anya on me."  He paused and breathed in deeply, as if he were savoring the moment, committing each and every detail to memory.  Shifting the electric prod within his hand, Tyler said, "Now, if you don't mind, I'm tired of talking.  All talk and no play makes Tyler a pissed off boy."

            Tyler sprang forward and thrust his weapon towards Xander.  Xander dodged, batting the staff away with his hand.  Tyler spun in a circle and brought the staff back towards Xander.  Xander stumbled away from the crackling end into the wall; he pushed off the wall, kicked at Tyler, and caught the side of the prod with his boot.  He moved forward into Tyler and aimed a punch at his head, but Tyler sidestepped the blow and rammed his knee into Xander's gut.  Xander grunted with pain as he doubled over, his arms snaking around his body to clutch his stomach.

            Tyler raised the stick into the air, high above a defenseless Xander, ready to strike, and Anya snapped out of the cage of terror and acted.  "Xander!  Move!"

            The weapon whistled through the air as Xander dodged.  As he tumbled across the floor and clamored to his feet near the door, Anya raced forward and jumped onto Tyler's back, throwing her arms around his neck in a choke hold.  Tyler twisted, attempting to throw Anya off him, but she clung to his body in desperation, a feral, primal need swelling within her to escape this horror show alive.

            Xander grabbed onto the electric prod.  He and Tyler struggled for control of the weapon for a few moments before Tyler lashed out with his foot and hit Xander once again in the stomach.  Xander fell to one knee, breathless; tears of pain pricked his eyes, blurring his vision.  Tyler raised the stick again, but Anya latched onto it before he could strike Xander.

            "Let go," Tyler growled through gritted teeth.  He half-turned and ran backwards towards the wall.  Anya slipped off his back before they collided with the wall, and she moved to face Tyler, her hand still gripping the electric pole.  She seized the weapon with her other hand and attempted to yank it free from Tyler.  Desperate determination battled with sheer hatred, and Tyler laughed as he slowly pulled Anya towards him.  Her feet slid across the floor and she knew she should let go and put distance between herself and Tyler, but the prospect of leaving the weapon in his hands was inconceivable.  So she moved towards him as a smile stretched across his face.

            "Well, well, well, isn't this interesting.  Someone seems to have lost their super vengeance demon strength.  Looks like I did all that research on how to kill your kind for nothing.  You're nothing but a weak little girl."  He laughed again at her futile efforts, wrenched her towards him, and kicked her.  His foot smashed into her knee as Xander tackled Tyler from the side.  The three crumpled into a writhing, tangled heap on the floor, and the staff skittered across the room, coming to a rest beside the door.

            Tyler reared back with his elbow, catching Xander underneath the eye.  He crawled out from beneath Xander and scrambled over Anya across the room towards the weapon.  As his hand latched onto the smooth cylindrical surface, Xander gabbed his ankle and attempted to pull Tyler away from the prod.  Letting himself be pulled back, Tyler twisted around, drove the electric prongs deep into Xander's shoulder, and fired.  Xander froze and started convulsing as charges of electricity coursed through his body.  A couple seconds passed and then his mouth went slack as he collapsed upon the floor paralyzed.

            Yanking his foot from Xander's hand, Tyler stood and turned back towards Anya.  A slow, menacing grin spread across his face as he locked eyes with her.  "Looks like it's just you and me, kid."

            Anya pushed to her feet and nearly fell to the ground again as her left leg buckled beneath her.  She cried out in pain and shifted her weight to her right leg.  Her knee was shot; the slightest amount of pressure sent shockwaves of pain through her.  Body trembling with terror, Anya watched as Tyler dropped the electric prod onto the ground next to Xander's body.  He glanced up at her through hooded eyes and said, "Don't need that anymore.  I want to make sure you feel everything I'm about to do to you."

            He stepped over Xander and strode towards her.  Anya limped away from Tyler, tried to put as much distance as possible between them, but he caught her by her wrist and threw her into the wall.  She crashed into the unforgiving surface and tumbled to the floor.  Bright lances of pain exploded behind her closed eyelids from the blow to her shoulder; tingles of numbness spread down her arm to her hand, rendering it useless.

            Anya heard Tyler approach.  She saw the discarded prod lying a few feet in front of her.  Gathering her last bits of strength and resolve, she tried to crawl across the floor towards the weapon, but Tyler grabbed a hold of her hair, dragged her back to him, and tossed her face up onto the ground.  The air in her lungs rushed out of her body upon impact, leaving Anya breathless and dizzy.

            Before she could recover, Tyler pounced upon her.  His legs pinned hers to the floor and his hands kept hold of her shoulders.  Through the haze of disorientation clouding her, Anya saw him lean down towards her, his eyes calm and curious as he inspected her sweat slicked face.  She turned her face away and dug her fingernails into his face, breaking the flesh of his cheeks into four bloody trails.

            "Fuck!"  Seething in pain, Tyler shoved her hand away.  He gingerly touched the claw marks on his face, wincing as his fingertips came into contact with raw, bloodied flesh.  Mouth flattening into a grim line, Tyler reached behind him and removed a knife from a sheath strapped to the back of his leg.  He turned the blade over in his hand; the fluorescent lights glinted off the smooth steel surface.  Gazing down at Anya, he said, "They got this off the vampire.  The blonde one.  I'll be sure to thank him for his generosity the next time I see him."

            Tyler slammed Anya's wrist onto the ground, forced her hand open, and shoved the knife into the palm of her hand, pinning it to the floor.  She screamed a harsh, ragged, horrified cry that rang through the room.  The world wavered in front of Anya.  The black void of unconsciousness crept into her vision and the deep, soothing pull of sleep called to her.  Pain.  There was only pain, everywhere, and Anya wanted it to stop, needed it to stop.

            "Oh, no, no, no," Tyler murmured.  He back handed Anya and latched onto her chain, forcing her to look at him.  His eyes were hard and angry and menacing as he glared at her.  "I want you awake for this, sweetheart.  I-"

            His hand was ripped from her face as he was lifted from her body and tossed across the room.  Anya dimly heard the dull thud as his body collided with the wall.  She forced her eyes open and relief washed over her as she watched Faith move by her towards Tyler.  Faith kneed him in the face; his nose burst into a mangled, red mesh of flesh.  Reaching down with her hands, Faith grabbed onto his shirt and slammed him once again into the wall.

            "Break me off a switch, son, because there's about to be a whoopin'."