Pure Emotion

Pure Emotion - Act 2 -
...not just for some, but everyone

The cab driver tried to hide his amused smile, as the third of his three passengers bid his friends farewell and slumped back into the cab with a heartfelt sigh. The cabbie could sympathize: the other two had been necking the entire drive and even he, a regular devotee of X-rated magazines, had been getting tired of it.

"Where to, Mac?" he asked the man in the rumpled cream suit.

"Carosa Road. And my name isn't Mac," Wesley responded with some asperity.

"Whatever, Mac."

Wesley rolled his eyes and sunk down into the back seat. It had been a disaster, complete and total. Wesley Wyndham-Price, off to save the day indeed. First the spying fiasco, then nearly getting killed by Angel, then watching as Angel, even while en-spelled, slew the demon while Wesley stood around like a piece of furniture. Even Cordelia got in a shot, but he was useless. As always.

"Nice weather isn't it, Mac?" And if that wasn't enough, he was stuck with one of those damnable talkative American cab drivers. Why couldn't the man just shut up and drive?

"Lovely," Wesley spat. "Now could you please get a move on?”

The cabbie chuckled. "Sure thing, Mac."

"My name is not - " Wesley let it go with an exhausted wave of his hand. "Oh, never mind.”

"Sure thin -"

"In silence.”

The cabbie managed to make it through the few minutes without making any more noise than occasional whistling, but eventually, his self-control snapped. "You know the problem with guys like you and me, Mac?"

"Please don't tell me," Wesley pleaded weakly.

"We don't have anyone.” The cabbie nodded wisely. "I mean, your buddies back there, they got each other, they got a relationship…probably a great love life…” The cabbie whistled in appreciation. "Quite a hottie, that girl." Wesley drew together the tattered remains of his dignity to respond.

"Please, sir, do not refer to my friend as a 'hottie'," he said, squaring his jaw.

"What, so you don't think she's a hottie?"

Wesley squirmed. "No! Yes! Well, of course she's attractive, but I feel that to refer to her as a 'hottie' is - "

The cabbie grinned. "I bet your friend thinks he's the luckiest guy on the planet, doesn't he?"

"Actually, he tends to spend most of his time moping in his apartment and reading substandard French poetry," Wesley said darkly.

"Oh, I don't know. A girl like that, she'd make me as happy as can be," the cabbie said, leaning back in his seat and sighing longingly. He glanced over at his passenger. "Hey, what's up, Mac? You're looking kinda pale."

"T-turn the car around," Wesley ordered, his stomach cramping with fear.

" Huh? But I thought you wanted to go - "

"Turn it around now!"

The cabbie shrugged, spinning the steering wheel. " Jeez, what'd I say?" he muttered.

Angel and Cordelia walked into the office, rumpled and yawning. "Wesley? Where are you?" Angel called.

"In here," Wesley's voice replied from Angel's office.

Cordelia's lips tightened as she marched over to the office, Angel trailing obediently at her side. "Okay, Wesley, what's your deal?" she snapped. "You drop us off at my place, we're just chatting on the sofa, Dennis is making coffee, and then we get the Wesley-panic phone call. At one in the morning!"

Wesley, who was crouched down behind Angel's desk fiddling with something, said nothing.

"Wesley!" she snarled.

Wesley shot to his feet, hands tucked behind his back. "Yes, uh, sorry about that. It was urgent."

Angel shrugged. "We got that. What was so urgent as to merit panicked one-in-the-morning phone calls?"

Wesley shifted edgily from foot to foot. "I believe you may be in danger from a spell,"

Angel's face hardened. "Someone wants to put a spell on my Cordelia?"

"On both of you, actually."

Cordelia plopped down in a chair. "So, how do we stop it zapping us?" she asked matter-of-factly.

Angel noticed a bead of sweat running down Wesley's forehead. "Actually, I believe it has already, uh, 'zapped' you," the ex-Watcher explained.

Cordelia frowned. "How? We're not newts or anything icky."

"I'm sure we would have noticed anything magical," Angel said, resting a hand on her shoulder. "Considering how much time we've been spending together."

Wesley swallowed. "Yes. Well, that's pretty much my point."

"Excuse me?" Cordelia asked. "Vague much?"

"Your...'feelings'...when did you first become aware of them, as such?"

"Wesley, what are you trying to say?" she asked. "Spit it out."

"Well, er, it is my...suspicion, that your relationship, your feelings, are magically induced," Wesley explained, not meeting their eyes. "A love spell."

"A love spell," Cordelia said flatly, rising to her feet. "As in, fake love?"

"I'm afraid so," Wesley agreed awkwardly. He never saw the slap coming, just felt the stinging pain as his head snapped to one side.

"How dare you," Cordelia said, her voice tightly controlled.

Wesley did not lift a hand to his tender cheek. "I'm sorry, Cordelia, but all the evidence points one way..."

"How dare you!" she snarled, burying her head in Angel's shoulder. "How dare you say what we have isn't real? What do you know about it?"

Angel brought his hands up around his love, feeling the dampness of tears on his black shirt. "I know you can be petty at times, Wesley, but this...this is just crossing the line. Seeing our happiness, and then trying to destroy it with lies...how could you? What kind of friend are you?"

"The kind who doesn't want to see his friends ensorcelled," Wesley retorted. "I wish it wasn't a spell, but the evidence is quite plain. Look at yourselves! This childish infatuation is totally out of character!"

"'Childish infatuation'?" Angel asked softly. Slowly he pushed the sobbing Cordelia to one side. "I'd kill a man who insulted us like that, Wesley." His face changed, fangs lengthening, eyes becoming yellow and filled with vicious anger. "I'd kill you."

"Ditto," Wesley answered, his voice eeriely calm, as he pulled his hand from behind his back. There was a crossbow in it.

"Wesley? What do think you're doing?" Cordelia asked, her tear-red eyes staring at him through a curtain of tangled hair.

"This spell has made you both a danger to yourselves and others," Wesley responded, holding the crossbow perfectly still. "Additionally, should you consummate your relationship, Angel might become soulless. I can't allow Angelus to be released on the world."

"So, what then?" Angel hissed. "You're just going to shoot me here and now? After all I've done for you?"

Wesley's jaw tightened. "If I have to." He reached below Angel's desk, and tossed a sack onto the floor before the vampire. It jangled as it hit the floor. "But I hope that won't be necessary. "

Angel slowly opened the sack and pulled out the set of manacles. "You expect me to just chain myself up like an animal?"

"No," Wesley answered firmly. "I expect you to do what is best for Cordelia.” He stared intently at Angel. "Do you think Angelus would care one whit for her, spell or no? Do you think he is even capable of love?"

"Angel, don't!" Cordelia pleaded, as the vampire slowly slipped the cuffs onto his wrists and closed them with a metal click. His eyes never left Wesley's face.

Wesley let out a sigh he didn't even know he'd been holding in. "All right, we're all going down to the apartment. You too, Cordelia."

Ten minutes later, Wesley was finally able to put the crossbow down. Angel was safely chained to the bed, a task which had been no picnic with Cordelia yelling at him every step of the way, and Cordelia herself was safely handcuffed to the bedpost. Of course, in that lull, as Wesley paused for breath in Angel's kitchen, the voice came back immediately.

Smooth work, Wes, it congratulated him mockingly. Chained the boss to his bed, handcuffed his secretary...all you need now are some whips and leather costumes, and then you could film your own porn movie.

"Shut up," he muttered.

So, what's the plan now, huh? Just keep 'em chained up all the time, and hope you can figure out which one of the five thousand or so love spells was used on them, so you can undo it?

"Shut up!" he snarled, sitting down at the kitchen table.

"Wesley?" he heard Cordelia calling. "Who are you talking to?" A few seconds later, "Angel! I think we're being held hostage by a schizophrenic!"

Wesley clamped his hands over his ears, blocking out Angel's reply. Need to think, he told himself. Need to think.

Need to think...need to think...Wesley's trying to think...don't hurt yourself, Wesley... the voice chorused.

Wesley polished his glasses, frowning to himself. "All right. If I want to counter the spell, I've got to identify it. The best way to do that is to talk to Cordelia and Angel, see if I can deduce anything." Crossbow in hand, Wesley walked out of the kitchen, ignoring the voice's ranting. The chains holding Angel to the bed were holding up well, he noted, and Cordelia wasn't likely to break out of her handcuffs anytime soon. Everything was going according to the plan.

What plan?

Ignoring the voice, Wesley leaned against a wall, facing his two captives. "I have a few questions," he announced.

Cordelia told him in graphic detail what he could do with his questions, and Angel only growled.

"Right," he said, blinking. "I see."

Whatcha gonna do, Wes? Whatcha gonna do?

Keeping his face a blank mask, Wesley raised the crossbow and pointed it at Cordelia. "Angel, answer my questions or I will shoot Cordelia."

"You wouldn't be able to pull the trigger," Angel answered, smiling unpleasantly.

"Is that right?" Wesley asked, raising an eyebrow. "Don't forget, Angel, I've changed since I worked for the Council. I haven't been a tremendous success as a demon hunter, I’ll grant you, but I'm not a wet-behind-the-ears Watcher any more. I've changed, Angel. How much, you don't know. Want to find out?' His eyes turned to Cordelia. "Try me."

Angel's eyes noted the way Wesley's forefinger strained on the trigger. An inch more pressure, and his Cordelia would be gone forever. Wesley's finger tightened...."What do you want to know?"

Wesley allowed himself a tight smile as he lowered the crossbow. He was extremely grateful Angel hadn't noticed that the safety catch was on.

"Tell me about yesterday, before you realized 'your true feelings'."

Angel closed his eyes, thinking back as his face reverted to human. "Well, we went the office and worked through the day pretty normally. You were there, you saw." Wesley nodded. "Then, you guys went home, and I settled in with a good book."

"What book?" Wesley asked, carefully watching the vampire. There had to be something, some clue… Wesley was well aware that if there wasn’t, then his threatening of Cordelia had probably signed his own death warrant.

"The Cerastesae Meatus," Angel said.

"Oh, that's a nice one," Wesley said warmly, "I remember I read that back when I was training to be a Watcher, I -" Angel's irritable growl brought Wesley back to the present. "Um, do continue."

"And then Cordelia called...she wanted me to go to some spa with her. Sounded like an image thing, but I went anyway."

Cordelia snorted. "Angel, it was not 'some' spa. It was a high-quality home of the social jet set!"

"And the cheapest you could get into," Angel countered.

"Please, give me more respect than that!"

Wesley broke in. "If we could just get on with the events of yesterday, without all this petty bickering..."

Wesley stopped as if pole-axed.

Angel continued, "So we went to the spa, and - "

"Stop talking!" Wesley ordered. "Start bickering again!"

"Huh?" Cordelia asked. "Angel, I knew it, he's gone completely loopy. Save me from the nut-case!"

Ignoring her, Wesley hurried to the pile of books left by his research. He ran his finger over the spines, and snatched the desired work from the pile, sending the rest of the books flying with a sweep of his arm. He slamrned the book on the table and flipped swiftly to the chapter he'd been working on and there it was... "Often, a sign that may lead to the source of such a spell, will be something that causes strife or conflict between the enchanted pair..." he read aloud. "Yes! Exactly!" Wesley allowed himself a triumphant grin, raising the book high. "I've got it!"

" Aren't you supposed to yell 'Eureza'?" Cordelia inquired.

"It's 'Eureka', and well...eureka!"

"Still lost," Angel said sardonically, rattling his chains.

"The spa!"

"The spa," Angel parroted.

"It's the cause of strife and discourse between you. It's got to be the source of the spell!" Wesley beamed at the two of them.

"Wesley, why are you keeping this up?" Cordelia asked irritably. "We all know there's no spell. You're just jealous because your bank-robber girlfriend isn't interested in you."

"Let us go now, and I'll kill you quickly instead of slowly," Angel suggested.

"I’ll have to turn down that lovely proposition," Wesley replied dryly. "I have work to do."

Crossbow in hand, he strode purposefully up the stairs.

Crossbow in hand, he strode purposefully down the stairs again. "Uh, where is this spa, exactly?"

"There's a road you have to take, Lesotho or something..." Cordelia said, her brow wrinkling.

Wesley sighed. "Cordelia, Lesotho is a small African country, not a street name. You'll have to show me." Unlocking Cordelia's cuffs from the bedpost, he clipped one cuff on her wrist and one on his own.

Cordelia's face crumpled. " No, don't take me from my Angel..."

"Sorry, Cordelia," Wesley grunted, dragging her up the stairs.

"No! Bring her back!" Angel roared, yanking at his chains, his face vampiric again. "Bring Cordelia back!"

He roared with wordless fury as his keen ears heard the office door shut. The bed trembled and shook as he pulled at the chains.

"Thank you so much," the young man told him.

"This place is wonderful!" his female companion agreed enthusiastically, wrapping her arm around her boyfriend’s waist.

Richard smiled gracefully. "Thank you for coming. Do come again."

As the happy couple left, Richard leaned against the doorframe and sighed joyously. They'd entered fighting, squabbling...and now they were happy again, in love, longing for the other's touch. The fact that they were brother and sister he deemed below his concern. He turned to the doorman. "We do such good work here, don't we, Henry?"

"We do indeed," Henry confirmed. " We're healers."

"Healers of the soul," Richard agreed.

His hands folded together, he turned to re-enter the blue-tinted corridors of the spa. As he crossed the threshold, he heard a engine growling behind him. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw a man and woman bearing down on him on a large motorcycle, like two knights on a shining silver mount. Two knights, who were arguing...and handcuffed together.

"I think these two may be in need of healing," Richard remarked to Henry. Henry and Richard approached the motorcycle as it slid to a halt, both smiling pleasantly.

"Hello and welcome to the Moonside Recreation and Relaxation Spa. I trust you found your way here with no trouble?" he said, the practiced words rolling off his tongue with ease.

The man got off the bike, adjusted his jacket, and leveled a crossbow at Richard's chest. Richard raised an eyebrow in response. "I'd like to see someone in charge," the man said grimly.

"He's crazy!" his brunette companion yelped. "He'll kill us all!"

Richard thought that she seemed vaguely familiar. "I sense much distress in your aura," he said placidly. "Perhaps I could interest you in a herbal wrap?"

Angel's arms bulged with strain as he forced them upwards. The manacles holding his hands to the headboard groaned with stress, the metallic links stretched to their limit. He kicked spastically with his legs, but their manacles held as well. With a gasp of exhaustion, Angel went limp, his exhausted limbs sagging sideways like a puppet with its strings cut.

"Cordelia..." he bit out. "I'm coming..." He applied grim pressure to his arm bonds, and the entire bed screamed with distress, wood splintering in several places. "I'm coming..."

"No, I am not interested in a bloody herbal wrap!" Wesley snarled, waving the crossbow in the man's face.

He was near the end of his rope - having to face down an enraged Angel, then driving up to the spa with Cordelia yanking on his arm, and now the threat of herbal wraps - it was all too much, too fast.

"I want to speak to someone in charge, or I swear I will shoot one of you white-suited mutton-heads!"

"I see," the thin man said. Turning to the elderly doorman, he said, "Henry, please go inside. I'll deal with these troubled souls."

"Of course, Richard," the doorman said. "Shall I put a pot of herbal tea on?"

"Please, do." The older man shuffled off.

Wesley hissed with frustration. "Gentlemen, may I remind you that I am aiming a large crossbow at you?"

"Believe me, sir, we have not forgotten," Richard answered. "Now, if you would like to come inside..."

"I want to come inside," Cordelia said eagerly. "It reminds me of Angel in there."

Richard smiled and led them inside.

Wesley stomped into the spa with bad grace, dragging Cordelia along with him. "Now, I want to talk to someone in charge." he snapped.

Richard sighed patiently. "Please, sir, show some respect for the halls of healing."

"You want to talk about respect?" Wesley ground out, waving the crossbow around violently. " I have been violently assaulted by a friend who I respect, while sacrificing my own self-respect during some fairly embarrassing situations in an attempt to help that same friend. In that respect, don't you think I have a right to be incensed!" Wesley shook the crossbow at Richard. And then, with a click, the safety gave and it went off.

The bolt punched into Richard's chest, low, in the belly. His eyes and mouth went perfectly round as a red stain spread across his crisp, white shirt.

"My God," Wesley whispered, the crossbow drooping in his hand. "I'm...I didn't intend...I'm sorry, I'm so sorry..." he told the swaying man, grief and guilt strangling him.

The voice sneered. Bravo, Wesley! You've killed a man, just like your greatest failure. Just like Faith.

Richard opened his mouth as if to say something. And his teeth lengthened into his fangs and his face changed, transforming into a vampire's mask of fury.

"Oh, thank God, you're not dead!" Wesley burst out, smiling with sheer relief. Then his smile faded, as his stunned mind grasped the situation. "But you're a vampire.”

Richard snarled, lunging for him.

"Oh dear,” Wesley whimpered.

The bed screamed.

"I'm coming for you, honey....I'm coming...." Angel hissed, pulling against his bonds in a violent, mechanical rhythm. "I'm coming....I'm coming!" he howled, as he yanked his arms forward violently, ripping the headboard clean off the bed. The enraged vampire didn't even notice as the headboard shattered itself into splinters against his back. Clenching and unclenching his fists, he bent to his leg chains.

He was coming to claim his love. And to kill the man who had taken her away from him.

Wesley grunted with pain as Richard's hands seized the front of his shirt, grabbing cloth and flesh alike. With a powerful sweep of his arms, the vampire sent Wesley crashing into a wall. Cordelia yelped as the handcuffs dragged her downwards after him.

Wesley's head exploded with pain as it slammed against the wall with a dull crack. Woozily, he lay flat on his back, watching through a blood-red haze as the vampire stalked closer. It raised a foot and stomped hard on his wrist. Through a cloud of agony, Wesley heard the metal handcuff crack. The cuff, and his already-injured wrist. Shrieking, Cordelia rolled to one side, clutching her own freed wrist. The vampire ignored her as she turned and ran down the corridor.

The blood haze threatened to swallow Wesley as the vampire bent over him, fangs bared.

Angel sprinted down the pavement, ignoring the protests of those he shoved aside. Most, after noticing his demon-twisted face, were happy to let him go. The vampire roared as he dashed down the road.

The small part of his mind that wasn't totally swallowed by rage and magic-induced love reminded him that he had heard Wesley leave on his bike...which meant Angel's car was still back at A.I.

The small part of his mind tried vainly to get Angel to understand what he needed to do.

A few seconds later, the startled pedestrians saw the wild figure loping towards them again. Those with more presence of mind got out of the way in advance.

"Please..." Wesley moaned. "Don't..." The red haze began to close around him, as the vampire bent closer.

You’ve done it now, the voice told him. Killed by a vampire. Ironic, considering your employer, isn't it?

But the vampire froze above him and its features melted back to human. "Terribly sorry about that," Richard apologized, looking deeply regretful. "I let my darker impulses take hold. It won't happen again, I assure you. Are you alright?"

The red haze vanished as Richard helped a dazed Wesley to his feet. "W-Why aren't you killing me?" he stammered, cradling his damaged wrist close.

"Why would I do that?" Richard asked, seeming genuinely confused.

Wesley's brows knitted together in semi-concussed confusion. "You're a vampire. That's what you do. Vampires kill people, unless they’re cursed. You're not cursed, are you?"

Richard laughed. "Actually I feel I am blessed, my friend."

Wesley leaned against a wall, pain and adrenalin combining to make him feel quite drunk. "You're obviously not cursed. So why are you helping me? Vampires are blood-drinking demons who enjoy maiming and torture. They don't usually go in for spiritualism and herbal tea."

Richard sighed. "Yes, that is true. I do recall when I also felt that way - I joined this spa in order to get easy access to its customers for my lunch, I'm afraid." He shook his head, seeming near tears. "I am ashamed to admit that I eviscerated my predecessor to get this job," he confessed guiltily.

"How sad," Wesley replied, picking his words with care. " So, why did you change?"

Richard shrugged. "I honestly don't know. I spent a few days working here, and gradually, as time passed, I began to feel emotionally…rejuvenated. Of course, with my newfound clarity and sensitivity, I considered it unacceptable to hurt another being, so I began to get my meals from the plasma bags kept here for our patients with blood-related disorders.” He shook his head. "I am terribly sorry, but when you shot me, I must have lost control. You're the first human I've hurt in months." Absently, Richard ran a finger down the wooden bolt sticking out of his lower torso.

"No...problem. Entirely...my fault." Wesley reassured him, gingerly inspecting his wrist.

A radiant smile laid itself over Richard's features. "And as I worked here, I saw miracles."

"Miracles?"

"Exactly," the vampire confirmed. "People would enter the spa, arguing, bickering and backstabbing as only LA's socialites can, and they would leave at peace. Filled with it, in fact, loving themselves and others. Many developed romantic relationships as a result."

Wesley forgot about his wrist. "Tell me more.”

Cordelia wandered down the empty corridor. She'd run and run, and run some more…and now, while she was safe from that nutcase Wesley, she had no idea were she was. She felt a moment's guilt over abandoning Wesley, crazy though he might be, but ignored it. He had tried to get between her and Angel, he deserved to die.

Still, if he was still alive, she was getting lonely. "Wesley?" she called. "Angel?" she asked hopefully. No response. She sighed, glancing around. The many rooms of the spa, filled with beauty products of all shapes and sizes, would have excited her once. Now, what was the point of making herself pretty, without her Angel to admire her?

" Anybody?"

Cordelia was about to break down, overcome with loneliness, when she got an answer. It wasn't spoken, but it seemed whispered on the air, flowing down the passageway towards her. It wasn't even expressed in words, but instead just as a feeling. A wonderful feeling, like the one she got when Angel smiled at her.

Joy lighting her tear-stained features, Cordelia followed the feeling towards its source.

Angel leapt out of the car, his shoes thudding on the concrete of the parking lot. A rumbling growl growing in his throat, he ran towards the entrance to the spa.

The door slammed back as he flung it open and strode into the building.

Angel rounded a corner, and there he was - the one who had taken Cordelia away.

He was obviously in pain, and was only standing with the assistance of a white-clothed man with a crossbow bolt protruding from his belly. If Angel was in a rational state of mind, he might have thought that strange, but his mind had room for only one thought.

Wesley looked up at the sound of running footsteps and saw the berserk vampire running towards him.

The ex-Watcher began to quietly make his peace with God.

Angel shoved Richard aside, ignoring the other's offended yelp, and grabbed Wesley by the shirt. Much to Wesley’s relief, Angel didn't immediately rip his heart out.

"Where’s Cordelia?" Angel snarled, his feral face inches from Wesley's own pale features.

"I'm not exactly sure..." Wesley began.

Angel slammed him once against the wall, and Wesley could feel the red haze creeping back. "Where is my Cordelia?"

Wesley shook his head woozily, trying to keep focused on the matter at hand. "Angel, there's something I need to warn you about. Richard and I have been talking about this spell of yours - "

Wesley screamed as Angel squeezed his broken wrist. "Where is Cordelia?"

"Excuse me, sir," the white-suited man said. "But you're hurting him."

Angel tossed Wesley aside and wheeled on the new target. " Do you know where Cordelia is?"

Even before Cordelia reached it, she knew where the feeling was leading her.

The Peace Room. That wonderful room where she and Angel had begun to realize the depth of their feelings, where the whole world had made sense. The room was still pitch dark, and she could hear the soothing, hypnotic music issuing from it. The sound brought back memories of their first visit, of being held safe and comforted in Angel's arms while they listened to that same music.

Slowly, Cordelia approached the doorway, that wonderful feeling growing stronger within her with every step.

Right at the doorway, she froze - she wasn't sure why.

Perhaps something about the strangeness of situation penetrated her magic-confused consciousness.

Perhaps, she simply felt that icy tingle of warning on the back of her neck which screamed, 'Predator!'

But her hesitation came too late, as a powerful force yanked Cordelia off her feet and into the room. The door slammed shut behind her with a click.

Cordy began to scream.

Angel was dangerous inches away from pulling the crossbow bolt out of Richard's chest and ramming it into his head when Cordelia's scream rang down the corridor.

"I'm coming!" he roared, turning and bounding away like a bloodhound on the scent.

Wesley staggered after him, clutching his crossbow in one hand and holding his injured one away from his body as best he could.

He could barely feel it any more. He wondered if that was a good thing.

Richard glided placidly alongside him. "She is obviously in turmoil," he told Wesley.

"Thank you for informing me of that," Wesley said grimly. "I never would have noticed."

They hurried around a corner to see Angel staring impotently at a heavy, closed door. Behind it, Cordelia shrieked again. "Cordy!" Angel screamed in anguished response.

Wesley staggered to his side, his stomach lurching with fear as Cordelia screamed a third time. "Angel, about this place, there's something you should know..."

Ignoring Wesley, Angel hurled himself at the door. The vampire clawed and tore at it in a frenzy, trying to get at his suffering love. Splinters flew and wood cracked as he pounded the door, but it held.

Angel lurched back in surprise as the entire building shook with an angry rumble and blood began pour from the cracks in the door.

"...it's alive." Wesley finished.

When Cordelia had entered the room, at first she had felt very, very cold.

But rapidly that chill had been replaced by pain. Numbing, agonizing pain, worse than a vision even, had rapidly flooded her body.

Dimly she was aware of the door shaking, of Angel's cries, and she knew her love was trying to get inside.

But the pain was too great for her to respond. Weakly, Cordelia curled into a ball and rocked herself as the pain mounted a new assault. She felt it raging and tearing like a presence inside her.

She wondered if there'd be anything left of her when it was sated.

Angel stared at the bleeding door. "Explain," he ordered Wesley, shocked out of his consuming rage for a moment or two.

"I don't have time for details," Wesley said hastily, "but in essence, the entire building is alive.”

He swallowed and tried to straighten out the facts in his head. "It feasts off negative emotions, increasing your positive ones as a result. That's why when you and Cordelia were here, you fell in love. Without any of the natural emotional barriers between you: embarrassment, fear of rejection, that sort of thing, your positive emotions went wild and latched on to the nearest things: each other. Your own friendship probably contributed as well, since you had an intimate relationship already. Your out-of-control emotions just took it to the next level, so that-"

"Shut up!" Angel yelled, his face contorting with sudden anger.

Wesley blanched. "What? Please don't hit me again."

Angel growled, deep in his throat. "I don't want to hear the theory. I just want to know how to get to Cordelia."

Wesley nodded jerkily. "Well, my separating you two drove your emotions to unprecedented heights, so the building's in the middle of a feeding frenzy. That room is its focus, the centre of its influence, so to speak.”

"Wesley...”

"We need to get Cordelia out of there soon or she might be emotionally crippled forever,” he finished in a rush.

Richard raised his hand. "How do we get her out?"

Wesley squared his jaw. "Well, I imagine we just bash the bloody door down. Richard, you take the left side; Angel, you take the right, and I'll take the middle," he ordered. The vampires looked at each other.

"Now, damnit!" The three positioned themselves as instructed, their hands resting on the bleeding door. "All right, push on three..."

This is it, Wesley, the voice whispered to him. The crunch time. The time you always fail at.

"One!"

Come on, Wes. Strain those wimpy little muscles...

"Two!"

Please. You and the vampires are going to force a door that's several inches thick, and controlled by a sentient building, no less?

"Three!" Wesley roared, throwing his shoulder at the door. Beside him, Angel and Richard grunted with effort. The door did not move.

Having trouble there?

"Again!"

Give it up, Wyndham-Price. You've never amounted to anything. You never will.

"Again!"

You're a failure. A failure as a Watcher, as a demon hunter, as a human being. Failure after failure after failure...

"Again!" Wesley screamed. The door shifted, creaking.

You'll never amount to anything. You're worthless. Completely worthless, the voice told him. But there was hint of uncertainty in its smug tone.

"Again!" The door shook as the three shoulders slammed against it.

Useless...useless...pointless, never good enough...

"Again!"

With a sickening crunch, Wesley drove his shoulder hard into the wood. He felt bone grind against bone in his arm, and screamed in response.

But the door screamed as well, crashing open.

As Wesley collapsed, Angel leapt past him, scooping the shrieking Cordelia into his arms. As she subsided into hysterical sobbing, Wesley slumped against the wall, struggling for breath.

But an insistent voice dragged him to his feet again.

Not finished, Wesley…resting with the job half-done are we?

"Oh, bloody hell," he muttered, and limped slowly past Cordelia and Angel into the Peace Room.

He swayed as he hefted his crossbow in one hand, gripping it like a club. Then he slammed it against one of the room’s featureless black walls.

The wooden weapon splintered as he bashed it against the wall again. Blood oozed from fresh cracks in the wall, the black paint peeling aside like torn skin. Angel seemed to get the idea as well, pushing Cordelia gently aside and slamming his fist into one of the walls. Richard began to kick at the skirting boards, causing a series of moans to erupt from the black surface. Finally, Cordelia rose to her feet as well, clawing at the paint with her nails.

Between them, they slowly tore the room apart.

Wesley didn't see it, though.

After his first two strokes he had collapsed in a boneless heap on the floor, his ruined crossbow still held tightly in his hand.

"So, how are the lovebirds this morning?" Wesley asked pleasantly as he carefully levered the office door open with his good hand.

Cordelia looked up from her desk. "You're awfully cheery for someone with his entire arm in a cast," she noted flatly.

"Tough as a rock," Wesley responded with mock-bravado, pounding his cast-free hand against his chest. He sucked in a breath sharply. "Ow..." Angel made his way quickly to the staggering ex-Watcher and helped him to a chair. "Thanks."

"The least I could do," Angel said guiltily.

"Some rock," Cordelia remarked. The ‘lovebirds’ crack hadn’t improved her mood any.

"I shall ignore that," Wesley said, settling into his chair and awkwardly shifting his cast until it rested comfortably.

"Good idea,” Angel muttered. The erstwhile love of his life shot a glare at him.

Wesley smiled thinly. "Yes. Well. I managed to get some early-morning one-handed research done - if anyone's interested, of course. "

"Jeez, Wes," Cordelia said. "You ever sleep?"

"I trust you have never tried to sleep with an arm in plaster cast," Wesley answered. "It's a lot harder than you might think."

"Speaking of which," Angel broke in. "Why are you even mobile? Shouldn't you be in a hospital, being waited on hand-and-foot by an attractive nurse?"

"Believe me, being waited on by my nurse would be nothing to crow about," he responded grimly. "Face like a Kailiff demon. Besides which, the doctor told me in no uncertain terms that my arm and wrist were merely sprained and that, and I quote, 'I don’t have any time for idiots who get into fights with people twice their size.'"

"Well, that's not very accurate," Cordelia said.

"Indeed."

"I mean Angel's roughly your height and all."

Angel coughed awkwardly. "Uh, you mentioned research?"

Wesley leaned back in his chair. "Yes. Apparently, the Moonside Spa was built on the wreckage of an entirely different kind of spiritual center. The Far Realm of the Stars, it was called. A rather nasty cult, which blew itself to bits as part of an unpleasant ritual some time ago."

"And exploding bad guys leads to love spells how?" Cordelia inquired.

"Well, it seems that Moonside became home to a malevolent spirit of sorts. But rather than simply being the consciousness of a single dead individual - "

" - like Dennis."

"Yes, like Dennis, it was more of a collection of negative emotions and energies. A type of 'bad vibe' to the whole place. Over the years, the existing energy attracted and fed off other negative energies, growing larger and actively 'infecting' the area. The Peace Room was probably situated where most of the cult members died, so when people were placed in it, the entity could siphon off their negative feelings and emotions. There's supposed to be a balance of positive and negative in the body..."

" ....like Ying and Yang," Angel interrupted.

He nodded. "Exactly. Without the negative, the positive energies went wild, often resulting in unwarranted...affections developing between people. It had a similar effect on that vampire, Richard, but since he was soulless and severely lacking in positive energy, he simply became unusually placid and calm." Wesley paused. "What happened to him, by the way?"

"I staked him," Angel said simply. " I should have noticed he was a vampire when I first saw him, but..."

"But?" Cordelia said. "What's the point of being Dark-Avenger guy if you can't spot the bad guys?"

Angel smiled sheepishly. "With all those herbs in that place, I wouldn't have smelt if Cordelia was a vampire." He winced. "Particularly after the herbal wrap.”

"Interesting..." Wesley said, scratching thoughtfully at his cast. He brightened. "Maybe we could use that! Wear heavily scented clothes, so vampires couldn't smell us coming?"

Angel raised his eyebrows. "But they'd smell lots of really strong herbs instead. I think that would attract a little unwanted attention."

"Oh," Wesley muttered. "Well, maybe we could - "

"Actually hear the end of your twisted little explanation?" Cordelia hinted.

"Right,” he acknowledged. "When I separated you two by force, it drove your emotional balance totally insane. The spirit was so aroused by Cordelia's wildly fluctuating energies that it actively drew her towards its focus, the Peace Room, and then proceeded to try and suck her dry of all emotions, positive and negative."

Cordelia shivered. "Creepy."

"Exceptionally creepy. Considering that we damaged the physical representation of its focus, I imagine the spirit is ttemporarily dormant now, in a kind of 'psychic shock'. Since the spa-owners kept the Peace Room in a kind of emotional and physical vacuum: empty, painted black, with only calm people entering to 'harmonize their auras', I think it had never really felt pain before. When we ripped up the walls, I imagine we gave it quite a start. I don't know how long it'll be resting for, though..."

"I wouldn't worry," Angel said, smiling quietly. "I believe several of the wealthy patrons of the spa have suddenly found themselves married to people who they can't stand. I don't imagine the spa will last very long after that."

"Excellent," Wesley said, smiling. " Only one more query then."

"Just one?" Cordelia asked sarcastically.

"Yes,” he agreed. He licked his lips and tried to choose his words with care. "How much do you remember of your time while you were...emotionally unbalanced?"

"Not much," Cordy answered breezily.

"All kind of a fog," Angel added.

"Like sleepwalking."

"Only without the 'walking' part, even."

Wesley smiled. "Excellent. Well, I don't know about you, but I'm going to get some eggs started up down in the kitchen. I'm famished." The ex-Watcher heaved himself out of the chair and limped carefully down the stairs. Angel and Cordelia watched him go.

"So," Cordelia said, after they were sure he was gone.

"So."

"You remember everything perfectly too, don't you?"

"Very clearly."

"Crystal." There was another pause. Cordelia swallowed. "Let's never discuss this ever again, shall we?"

"Sounds good to me," Angel agreed.

Smiling to himself, Wesley crept back down the stairs, trying not to bang his cast against anything.

I wonder if it's possible to fry eggs with one arm? he thought.

As he struggled with the fridge door, the voice whispered in his thoughts one last time.

One success doesn't cancel out all the years of failures, my boy, it told him.

Wesley pulled the door open. "Oh put a sock in it, father."

End

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