BACK IN THE CELL
Angel had taken off his coat and given it to Wesley, who draped it over the ragged bundle that covered Cathy’s limp form. Now he buttoned up Wesley’s oversize denim shirt; it was a snug fit for him but was still a great improvement over the sliced and diced black shirt he’d been wearing.
“At least this way they won’t tell that you’re healed. Element of surprise and all that” said Wesley, rubbing his chilled arms and grateful for the stained T-shirt he’d had on underneath it.
Angel just gave a grunting assent and carried on closing the buttons like his unlife depended on them being closed properly. His head was whirling and his skin was itching like crazy. Overall he felt like he was about to crawl out of his skin or just go mental, if he didn’t do something now. He was jazzed in way that he couldn’t recall ever being before – even as Angelus, and he was only just keeping himself under control, so fuck conversation.
Angel could feel Wesley watching him, assessing every move and knew he’d got the ex-watcher worried. Good, he should be worried – if he stopped to think about he’d be worried too. Blood had never affected him like that ever before. It had been like a thousand ants running through every nook and cranny inside his body. Then everything; skull, torso and even his legs had seemed to catch fire.
It had been like dying all over again and then waking up – totally pissed off and ready to kill anything that moved. He knew he was going out for the fight of his life and instead of just being resigned; the thought of it excited him – and that pissed him off even more.
Once souled he’d ended up fighting and killing more times than he could count, but never for the thrill of it – that was Angelus, not him. Only now that fine line seemed to have been erased and he had no idea if it would ever come back.
Cathy’s soul had gone back into her body and it was just the two men who heard the bolts being drawn. Angel nodded at Wesley who moved back to stand beside the woman’s body. Angel slipped down the wall to sit slumped and clutching his middle.
The guard stepped inside, alone this time and locating the vampire poked him with a boot. Angel gave a moan and shook his head weakly and then got hauled to his feet with rough hands. One of Angel’s own slipped to the side of the demon and locating a knife-sheath, slipped the blade free.
He jerked one hand up startling the guard who slammed him against the wall, just as Angel used the other to toss the knife at Wesley, who caught it in mid-air. The knife disappeared from sight within in seconds. The guard not even realising anything had happened threw the vampire towards the door.
Drachnar arrived just as he was being dragged outside. “Angel, so are ready for another bout”? He said heartily but his face was pure gleeful expectation, the black eyes taunting. Angel hung his head and remained silent, letting the demon think what he wanted. Drachnar laughed, delighted that the arrogant vampire had been cowed. He looked towards the cell.
“Your human friend won’t be going this time. We have the usual planned for him, so don’t expect to see him again”. Drachnar waited to see if that taunt would rouse a response and when it didn’t, frowned in disappointment and jerked his head to the guard to get moving.
BACK IN THE PIT
Once in the pit Angel been given a sword immediately, tossed next to his feet for him to pick up. He picked it up very slowly trying to maintain the impression that he was severely wounded, and then let it hang limply at his side.
The benches were packed with onlookers and the dignitaries, including Drachnar were already seated. It was eerily silent and he waited for the commotion to begin that would herald the arrival of his opponents. His arms trembled at the enforced inactivity and he twitched to still them.
Taking in deep breaths, he slowly blew out of his mouth. For vampires, oxygen was entirely superfluous except for speaking. But he found the movement of his dead chest soothing, usually. Not now though, the sound of air escaping his mouth echoed in his sensitive ears and under lowered brows his dark eyes flickered restlessly from side to side.
Something skittered over in the corner of the dirty pit and his eyes zeroed in on it and his body went taut. Even from the distance of over forty feet he could see the shiny back of the bug as it scuttled away. He relaxed and loosened the reflexive grip on the swords hilt.
Pandemonium was suddenly unleashed up top and he grinned, delighted shivers running down his back. About damn time, he thought and surreptitiously he moved his feet apart, balancing himself without making it obvious.
Wesley’s shirt was tight across his chest and the tug of the cloth was annoying and distracting him. He had to fight down the urge to just get rid of the damned thing, but if he wanted them to underestimate him and throw them off balance he needed to hide his lack of wounds, at least until it was too late.
Three bodies landed solidly in the pit with him and this time he didn’t tense but kept his muscles loose, he looked up from under dark brows and stared at them assessingly.
They were leaner but taller than the first three and they held their weapons with assurance that told of experience. Two swordsmen and one axe wielder, he gave a mental shrug – not caring so long as they were good.
The smell of blood, death and adrenaline came off them in waves and raised his aggression level by several notches. He breathed deep and kept it there. They followed the same ritual as before and bellowed at him, fists clenched as the crowd went wild. Unseen by them Angel smiled, bring it on.
They came for him in a single roaring charge. His head came up and his hand tightened on the hilt and whipped the blade up in front of his chest and face. Wicked dark eyes glinted with topaz fire as he vamped out and fangs elongated as he opened his mouth in a snarl of his own.
In microseconds they were only feet away, he dropped to a crouch and bunched his legs, snapping upwards and launching himself over their heads to drop gracefully behind them. They faltered and swung crazily around, shocked that the easy target had suddenly changed to mortal foe. Angel was only just getting started.
The last to complete the turn found the vampires blade thrust, two handed into it’s back, impaling it between the thick shoulder blades. It screamed and scrabbled to free itself. Angel yanked it free and ducked an axe, bringing his fists holding the hilt in a bone splitting punch on the axe wielders nose and breaking the cartilage with a scrunch.
It backed away holding its face and choking on its own bile. Angel spun to face the last, which had come around to his unprotected side. He grinned at it and they circled, both swords whipping around in their hands, the sound of steel chopping the air raising the tension.
Simultaneously both drew the swords back in a double handed grip at shoulder level, looking for an opening or sign of weakness, eyes locked. Angel reverted back to human, a mocking gesture of confidence to any demon that knew vampires.
“You gonna point that thing at me all day”? He didn’t give it a chance to reply but swung the sword to the side with one hand. The demon thrust directly forward and found its blade knocked down and away. Angel yanked his back up and sliced off a part of its jaw.
He felt movement behind him, the whoosh of a blade being raised high in the air. He stepped back quickly until he was almost within touching distance, still facing the bleeding demon he’d just cut. He thrust out the sword hilt in front of his body and then stabbed back and felt the blade sink into flesh, then twisted the hilt for good measure and heard a gargling scream.
Yanking the sword free he met the other demon’s charge, enraged now at having its blood spilt. Their blades met in a clash of thunderous steel. They hacked and slashed with blurring speed, back and forth and around the pit.
The swords slashed from side to side as the two combatants blocked and parried. Powerful muscles bunched when they came together, both trying to force the other onto the floor or into a wall. With teeth clenched in fierce snarls of adrenaline-induced rage, they went for the kill again and again only to be thwarted by the others skill.
Angel felt the tingles increase along his skin and a strange heat spread out from his chest, rising up into encompass his head. He shook his head to clear it and locked eyes back on the demon. That’s when the weird stuff started to happen.
Everything around him seemed to slow except for him. He saw to the minutest detail the demon take a deep lungful of air. Then almost individually he saw the muscles of its meaty arms tighten and gather, getting ready for another strike.
It raised the sword over it’s head and Angel heard its grunt and the whistle of the blade before it had even started its downward descent. To even a trained observer it would seem as if the demon was bringing it down in a stabbing motion, but he saw the glint in it’s eyes and then the slight hesitation it gave at a crucial point.
He didn’t know how he knew, but he did, it was a trick. He raised his own so that the blade ran down his side from chin to hip, blocking the sword that had been twisted to change direction mid-flight. The demon snarled and opened its mouth to show blood stained teeth and fangs.
With his free hand he punched it and then using the momentum spun around and brought the blade to neck level. Still reeling from the blow the demon tried to block, but again as if in slow motion Angel saw the move and raised his left leg, swiping the demons sword out of the way as his own sliced through its thick and unprotected neck.
Time sped back up as the head came off the shoulders and the body hit the dirt packed floor with a thud, blood pumping into the hungry foulness of the floor. Angel staggered back, disoriented by the change of speed. What the fuck is going on? He raised his free hand to touch his brow and rubbed hard. His fingers were already covered in blood and he smeared his own face with it. His nostrils flared and he growled, hungry and confused.
Movement to his right had time slowing again, he went with it – what other choice did he have. He reared back from the swing of a double-edged axe and blood splatterd the wall from the demons hand as it dripped down its back and arms from the wound he’d given it earlier.
It brought the axe up for another swing and Angel vamped out, stalking forward he caught the axe in mid-swing. With his hold he jerked the demon down and dropping the sword, punched it in the face. Again and again he jabbed and punched at its swiftly mangled face, until it could stagger back no further and its back was pressed to the grimy wall.
Its hold on the axe loosened and Angel wrenched it free and raised it high over his sweat-drenched head. Feral yellow eyes glinted in victory as he brought the axe down with all of the power of his arms and its heavy weight, hacking straight through the skull.
He was alone in the pit and surrounded by bodies and blood. Still vamped out he whirled around with his head tilted to see the crowd around him, staring down. Silent and intent. His own system was still drenched in pure unadulterated demonic frenzy, only now it was transforming into rage with no more release for its savagery.
“What, is that the best you can do”? He roared at them. “I thought you guys were so hot that you couldn’t be beaten”.
Viciously he kicked one of the fallen demons. “Well guess what. Not so fucking invincible now are they”?
No one answered him. One of the demons seated on a throne, signalled and more of the demons stood up from the front benches, slowly they started to remove their masks. Angel laughed at the sight.
“Fuck this I’ll be here all day kicking your ass. Tell you what, why don’t we make this more fun and I’ll join you up there”. The cocky statement was hardly out of his mouth before he was sprinting around the pit.
Around and around, his boots squelching on bodies and gore but not slipping. When he had enough speed he lifted his leg and started to run the wall, getting higher and higher, faster and faster. The crowd watched in dumbfounded silence. Completely mystified by what had happened and unable to guess where he would come up.
Chaos reigned as they scrambled back from the edge and away from the psychotic vampire. He leaped over the edge and then gathering himself, before they could respond to his exit with violence, leaped onto the wooden stage housing the three thrones.
The demons tried to jump out of the way, intimidated despite their own cruel natures by the sheer speed and recklessness of the enraged vampire. Angel grabbed Drachnar and yanked him of balance to fall face down on the floor where the vampire jumped on his back with both feet, making him jerk with the weight and keeping him down.
At almost the same instant he reached up and snagging another by the shoulders grasped its head in both arms and twisted until its neck broke, then letting it drop limply to the floor of the now crowded stage, snapped a kick at the throat of the last, crushing it. He left it die from lack of air and turned his attention back to the demon on the floor.
It was all over in seconds and he stepped off the demon and let him get back to his feet.
“Very impressive Vampire, truly you have outdone yourself. But tell me what do you hope to achieve, there is no escape from here”.
“I promised I was going to kill you. Ask around. I always keep my promises, it’s a soul thing”. Answered Angel more than happy to face off and just get it done.
Angel leaned in closer and glared with yellow eyes into black, “I don’t care if I get out of here or not so long as you die”.
Just then a new voice rang out, clear as day but vibrating with annoyance. “I hate to disagree with you, Angel. But I happen to care a lot”.
Before the last word had finished being spoken there was a whoosh of air and Drachnar gargled and scraped at the arrow sticking out from his throat. Black eyes widened and then he toppled onto his side, crashing into one of the chairs before coming to lie next to it, jerking with death throes.
Snarling with frustrated rage at losing his quarry, he spun towards the voice. Standing over the other side of the pit and only now being noticed by the stunned crowd, was Cordelia with the crossbow still in her hands.
“Get over it”, she told her snarling lover.