Chapter 6
Author: Ellen
Rating: NC-17 (overall)
Spoilers: Somnambulist
Summary: The events of Somnambulist as they might have happened in the 'Power of Three' universe.
Author's Notes: This story is adapted from an episode of the WB television series Angel, written by Tim Minear. Angel, Doyle, Cordelia and all other characters from the Angel television series belong to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy and/or 20th Century Fox and other entities who aren't us. We only wish that we owned them and could keep them safe and happy and loved.
After the door closed, Doyle tried to break the tense mood. //Hmmm. The three of us. A bed. Chains. Well, this situation could be worse, I suppose.//
Conspicuously ignoring Doyle's attempt at levity, Cordelia glared at Angel. //You should have let us know. You shouldn't have shut us out.//
//You can't be objective about this, Cordelia. Neither of you.//
//And Wesley can? He thinks Doyle is a fraud. I almost bit him myself.//
//Right now that doesn't strike me as particularly funny,// Angel thought wryly.
Cordelia walked over to the bed and sat down, inspecting the results of her handiwork and Wesley's. Angel's hands and feet were securely chained in place but the rest of his body had been left free. //If you were human, you'd be pretty cramped by morning,// she thought critically.
//True.//
//These dreams of yours. Show me.//
//You don't want to see.//
//I'm sure I've seen worse in some of those yucky visions.//
She touched his face very lightly, tracing the line of his brow, then trailing her finger down his cheek. //The only thing that scares me is losing either one of you.//
Silently, Doyle approached the bed and met Angel's gaze. //There's nothin' you can show me that will make me stop lovin' you and I know that goes for 'Delia too.//
//There are things worse than either of you have ever seen. Things that are still alive in me.//
//I think I know just a little about not likin' what's inside ya, love.// The endearment carried a particular sweetness coming from Doyle. Angel felt it like a weight on his chest, holding him more securely than the chains.//
//We all have stuff inside us we don't like but we can't run away,// Cordelia put in. //I needed my inner bitch to beat Mommy-Dearest Pearson, didn't I? And I didn't hate kicking some ghost ass.//
//These were innocent people, not killers. And I... loved the taste of their fear.//
Reluctantly, Angel opened his mind just a little to them, showing them a few brief flashes of his memory of these dreams, how sweet the victims' terror tasted, the keen rush of excitement that their pain had brought.
//It hasn't been all that long since I last killed and enjoyed it.//
//I seem to remember you did some time in hell since then,// Doyle pointed out gently.
//It's still in me,// Angel repeated and for the first time, his lovers began to understand just how deeply afraid he really was. //It's still inside me. What if I hurt you?//
//Not goin' to happen,// Doyle told him firmly.
//It could.//
//It won't.// Cordelia stretched out on the bed next to him, brushing a stray bit of hair off his forehead. //We won't let it happen. We love you and we want to stay alive to enjoy it. Got that?//
//You couldn't stand against this,// Angel responded harshly and he opened his memories wider, letting them feel the power of his response at the moment of a victim's death. Doyle gasped slightly at the effect of this rush of sensation. He and Cordelia no longer knew if this was the memory of a dream, or of something that had really happened.
Even more disturbing, they were both feeling Angel's arousal at the moment of the victim's death-agony. Shaken, they felt his thoughts like a snarl inside their minds.
//Now do you understand? Even loving you, I could hurt you. I could kill you. If I lose control — //
//But we're holdin' your soul, Angel and it's safe with us,// Doyle persisted, even though he was dismayed by his own body's reaction. //It's safe.//
//How can this ever be safe?// Even with his hands chained, he could control them if he wanted and he showed them. Without his conscious volition, Doyle found himself moving his hand, to feel the hard evidence of how even the recollection of the killing dreams affected Angel.
//How can you love someone who loves the kill without becoming a killer yourself? How can you be here in my mind without becoming just like me?//
Then, suddenly, Angel's mind was flooded with a sudden realization. He wasn't shielding any more and Cordelia and Doyle felt it too.
//I know who this is. I know the taste of his mind!//
//I don't understand,// Cordelia thought, fighting not to be afraid.
//I feel him, I know him, he's near.// The image of a face, a voice, laughing, a body, graceful and deadly, filled Angel's mind. Neither of the others recognized the face but they both felt the combination of triumph and terror within Angel.
//It's Penn.//
//Penn?//
//My first and most dangerous childe. Dru and her pet Spike are day-old kittens next to him. It's Penn.//
//You loved him,// Cordelia realized, feeling it, with a growing sense of betrayal.
//Wrong tense, 'Delia,// Doyle thought gently. //Still does.//
//I... yes... I'm so sorry...//
//Yeah,// Doyle sent tenderly. //Yeah, it hurts that y'love someone else but it's all right. We know it doesn't take away from lovin' us.//
Cordelia was a little slower, still shocked. //You're not going to leave us. You're not going anywhere. You're ours,// she sent. //This Penn can't have you.//
//He already has me. There's a bond between sire and childe — //
//And there's a bond between us and it's stronger. Do you hear me?// To Angel's shock and Doyle's, Cordelia straddled the chained Angel, her face intent and determined. Through their clothing, she moved possessively against him. //We're not letting you go. He can't take you away from us.//
Angel moaned softly. //Cordelia, don't. I can't — //
She moved her hands to either side of his face, as her body pressed urgently against his. //I want him out of your mind. I want him out. Doyle, help me.//
//Not sure I can, or if I should — //
With a hissing intake of breath as he himself understood, Angel sent, //Doyle, she's right. What she's sensing is right. My old bond with Penn is what brought on these dreams! But if the only way we can break it — //
//Is with a stronger bond? Yeah. I'm startin' to get it now.//
//Doyle, no! I can't risk what this could do to you – what you could become.//
Doyle hesitated for only a moment, remembering that Wesley was still in the apartment, on the other side of the door. But the call of Angel's need was stronger than caution.
//Help me, Doyle,// Cordelia tugged at his mind. //Help me drive this Penn out.//
//But if we break the bond,// Angel sent. //I won't be able to find him, I won't be able to stop him.//
//If we don't break it, then maybe you can't stop him either.//
//I killed Darla but...//
//Because she threatened Buffy. One bond to defeat another.// Loosening his clothing slightly and fighting the temptation to go farther, Doyle moved closer to the bed. //We have to be quiet but we have to do this now and we have to do it right. I can feel it.//
//I can feel him.// Angel sent them the images, the sensations that he was starting to receive. //It is Penn, it really is. I can feel him right now. He's going to kill tonight. He's ready to kill.//
Doyle felt the conflict raging within Angel as though it were within his own body. //We can't stop the kill. By the time we could track him tonight, it would be too late.//
//We can't stop him,// Angel echoed, with anguish. //But we're going to feel it. If you're in my mind, you're going to feel it, too. You'd better leave now, while you can.//
//Never,// Cordelia thought back. //Not now. Not ever.//
//We're in this with you, man, the whole way. We're not pulling back.//
//And if you feel what I feel, can your souls survive it?//
//Yes.//
//Yes.//
They pressed close to him, one on either side. When Cordelia started to move some of her clothing aside, Doyle reached out a hand to stop her.
//No. We keep our clothes on.//
//What? Why?// With a growl of frustration, she showed him a quick flash of her rising excitement.
//That's exactly what we can't do. That's what he's afraid of, darlin'. That's just what they did.//
//You do understand,// Angel sent gratefully. //Doyle, I — //
//No need to explain. We won't taint what we have b'tween us with the taste of innocent blood.//
Cordelia whimpered but nodded slowly. //All right. Not while...//
//Not while Penn's killin' someone and we're watchin', no.// Doyle's mental voice was firm, despite the insistent heat that was pounding in his own body, demanding to be fed. //We won't be doin' that.//
Angel closed his eyes. //Doyle, I love you.//
And somewhere in Angel's mind and in theirs as well, Penn howled his outrage.
//He's ours, Penn,// Cordelia sent, with a vicious mental whipcrack. //Get out of his mind. Now.//
Angel felt his mind and his body, becoming a battlefield. His back arched involuntarily and he realized that he was pulling hard on his chains. Penn was grabbing his victim now, somewhere. He wasn't far away.
Cordelia held Angel down on the bed from one side and Doyle from the other. The victim was screaming and Penn's mind was shuddering with pleasure, reaching out for Angel.
Share this. Be with me. Now.
It was as though Penn's hands were on his body again, after so many years, touching all the places he'd known so well. Feel it. Feel me.
The girl was begging for her life. Her heart was racing. Penn could smell her blood and her fear and he offered it up as a gift.
Cordelia blocked, not knowing exactly how or why, acting purely on instinct. No.
Angel moaned softly, not quite certain whether it was with pleasure or with pain.
Doyle had the greater understanding but Cordelia had the force of the fiercest will he'd ever known. Dimly, Angel realized that neither of his lovers alone could have stood against the call of Penn's mind. But together, they had a chance.
Somewhere close, Penn's fangs sank into someone's throat and Penn sent out a joyous cry to his sire, inviting him to share in this moment of ecstacy.
Penn's pleasure threw fire at Angel's mind and body, threatening to dissolve him in its flame. But Cordelia and Doyle, together, held him fast in the fierceness of their love and determination.
It was not the chains that held him, though his body struggled against them without his volition.
It was the two of them who held him fast, body and soul.
Somewhere, not that far from them, a woman died.
But, as she did, one door closed and another opened.
Angel's body jerked one more time against the chains, then fell back, exhausted, into his lovers' arms.
They couldn't save that life. But they had won a victory tonight. All three of them knew it.
And they were well aware that Penn knew it, too.
