Out of Joint -- Chapter 6 (Part 2)
Apr. 2nd, 2005 01:30 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
sharelleThis one is really short, but I have a few minutes to spare before company comes over, so I cleaned up and coded this little scene. Originally, I'd planned on including it together with the last half of the chapter. However, since the last scene is much longer, I didn't have time to do both. So expect the last section of Chapter 6 in another day or so.
I've also made a few edits to the beginning segment of this chapter. It changes nothing in the grand scheme of the story, but it does clean up the wording of a few sentences I still wasn't quite happy with. If you missed it, you can find it here. (Thanks again to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
makd for being such a lovely, thoughtful beta for this chapter!)
As usual, all previous installations are here.
(Chapter 6 – Part 2)
* * *
“Well, that was certainly . . . different,” Gunn commented as the group stepped into the hallway outside the Wolfram & Hart medical lab. He glanced at those around him. Each one was sporting a similar dazed expression.
“I don’t know,” Lorne interjected with an appreciative smile. “With the proper finessing, he seemed to get into the spirit of it, eventually.”
“Spirited, – yes.” Wesley appeared thoughtful. “Granted, it’s been some time since I’ve been back to England, but I hadn’t been aware they’d changed all the lyrics of ‘God Save the Queen’ to, um – ‘F’-you-very-much.” He grimaced.
Lorne shrugged. “It’s not the words that matter, Sweetums,” he said. “It’s the vibe from the voice. And you gotta admit, violent lack of enthusiasm aside, our little Blondie Bear’s got himself a decent set of pipes. Still, he could have yodeled 'I've Got a Lovely Bunch of Coconuts' and I would have gotten the same reading.”
“That being?” Fred asked.
“Oh, he’s definitely our guy,” Lorne replied. “'Cept it’s like somebody hit a major rewind button. I can see a lot of what he’s supposed to do in his future that we already know about, even up to the great Sunnydale implosion. Problem is,” the Pylean demon added warily, “a lot of that’s clouded over. Like it’s just a shade of a possible future now, rather than what we’ve come to know as fact.”
“That’s not good,” Wesley remarked, turning to Angel. “It means things may be changing already.”
“There were a few really clear bits,” Lorne continued. “He’s not too crazy about the Slayer at this particular point in his life. But even worse seems to be his presidential status in the ‘I-Hate-Angel Club.’ Or,” he added, “I think ‘Angelus’ would be a tad more accurate.”
Angel nodded. “So this Spike had to have come from the time I lost my soul in Sunnydale.” A trace of pain darted over his face for a moment at the recollection. “No wonder he was going on about Drusilla.”
“Pretty sure that’s the answer,” Lorne confirmed. “It was probably the weirdest reading I’ve ever done, though, Angel-Cakes. I’ve never read a person from the past hoping to see the past, if you know what I mean. And his future . . . hazier than most. What worries me is that it shouldn’t be. Especially since a lot of what I was struggling to see already happened, from our standpoint. It should be clear as a bell.”
“So the longer our Spike stays where he is, the more likely it’ll be that the present will start to change,” Fred said.
“Do we have to keep calling him ‘our’ Spike?” Angel muttered.
“Yes,” Wesley replied, although he was responding to Fred. “In fact, it’s quite likely that things have begun to change already.”
“How will we know?” Gunn asked. “I mean, we’re all still here, so it can’t be too bad yet, can it?”
“I need to refresh my memory as to the Cup’s lore a bit more,” Wesley answered. “Now that we’re certain of what’s been done, we’re going to have to find a way to reverse it before anything catastrophic occurs. If Spike is trapped somewhere in the Sunnydale of six years ago, he may not realize he’s changing anything until it’s too late for us.”
“Get on it,” Angel said. Then he turned to Fred. “That analysis of the Cup will probably help, too,” he added.
“You got it,” the young woman nodded purposefully. She turned to head back into the lab just as Harmony returned with another helping of heated blood, this time in a plastic sippy cup. Angel studied his secretary, glaring first at her, then at the child’s mug in her hands . . . the bright blue child’s mug with a grinning image of Barney the Dinosaur on the side.
Harmony gave a good-natured shrug. “Got this one from the day care center. Guaranteed not to spill,” she said nonchalantly. “Or break,” she added with a guilty smile and took a few quick steps past Angel to join Fred in entering the lab.
“We have day care?” Angel muttered to Wesley.
“Ground floor,” Wesley answered, “past the coffee shoppe.”
“Dedicated by Mr. The-Dinosaur, himself,” Lorne added, nodding his head in the direction Harmony had walked to indicate the cup she had been carrying. “Major contributor, you know. Big punter in the entertainment department.”
Angel’s eyebrows shot up. “Barney’s a client?” he asked. “Of ours?”
“Not only that, Angel Baby,” Lorne answered with a smirk, “but that costume? Not a costume.”
Angel looked bemused for a moment, then scoffed. Demon puppets. Who would've believed that? He shook the gathering cobwebs out of his mind and got back to the matter at hand. He stared at the door through which Harmony and Fred exited. "Do we need to worry about this Spike and how he’s being affected by our time?" he asked Wesley. "We could move him. Put him in some kind of solitary so he can’t interact with anyone."
Wesley breathed deeply and crossed his arms over his chest. “That may be wise," he agreed. "Though right now I’m more concerned with what our – er, – the other Spike is doing. There’s very little possibility that he’ll be able to avoid changing the present around us, even if he did gain insight into what was going on. And finding someone to help him return to our time will certainly pose a challenge, since he would have to explain why help was needed. Providing knowledge of the future to anyone can be just as damaging as Spike instigating changes himself.”
“We may be okay there.” Angel shook his head. “Spike was never one to ask for any help.”
* * *
To be continued . . .
I've also made a few edits to the beginning segment of this chapter. It changes nothing in the grand scheme of the story, but it does clean up the wording of a few sentences I still wasn't quite happy with. If you missed it, you can find it here. (Thanks again to
makd for being such a lovely, thoughtful beta for this chapter!)As usual, all previous installations are here.
(Chapter 6 – Part 2)
“Well, that was certainly . . . different,” Gunn commented as the group stepped into the hallway outside the Wolfram & Hart medical lab. He glanced at those around him. Each one was sporting a similar dazed expression.
“I don’t know,” Lorne interjected with an appreciative smile. “With the proper finessing, he seemed to get into the spirit of it, eventually.”
“Spirited, – yes.” Wesley appeared thoughtful. “Granted, it’s been some time since I’ve been back to England, but I hadn’t been aware they’d changed all the lyrics of ‘God Save the Queen’ to, um – ‘F’-you-very-much.” He grimaced.
Lorne shrugged. “It’s not the words that matter, Sweetums,” he said. “It’s the vibe from the voice. And you gotta admit, violent lack of enthusiasm aside, our little Blondie Bear’s got himself a decent set of pipes. Still, he could have yodeled 'I've Got a Lovely Bunch of Coconuts' and I would have gotten the same reading.”
“That being?” Fred asked.
“Oh, he’s definitely our guy,” Lorne replied. “'Cept it’s like somebody hit a major rewind button. I can see a lot of what he’s supposed to do in his future that we already know about, even up to the great Sunnydale implosion. Problem is,” the Pylean demon added warily, “a lot of that’s clouded over. Like it’s just a shade of a possible future now, rather than what we’ve come to know as fact.”
“That’s not good,” Wesley remarked, turning to Angel. “It means things may be changing already.”
“There were a few really clear bits,” Lorne continued. “He’s not too crazy about the Slayer at this particular point in his life. But even worse seems to be his presidential status in the ‘I-Hate-Angel Club.’ Or,” he added, “I think ‘Angelus’ would be a tad more accurate.”
Angel nodded. “So this Spike had to have come from the time I lost my soul in Sunnydale.” A trace of pain darted over his face for a moment at the recollection. “No wonder he was going on about Drusilla.”
“Pretty sure that’s the answer,” Lorne confirmed. “It was probably the weirdest reading I’ve ever done, though, Angel-Cakes. I’ve never read a person from the past hoping to see the past, if you know what I mean. And his future . . . hazier than most. What worries me is that it shouldn’t be. Especially since a lot of what I was struggling to see already happened, from our standpoint. It should be clear as a bell.”
“So the longer our Spike stays where he is, the more likely it’ll be that the present will start to change,” Fred said.
“Do we have to keep calling him ‘our’ Spike?” Angel muttered.
“Yes,” Wesley replied, although he was responding to Fred. “In fact, it’s quite likely that things have begun to change already.”
“How will we know?” Gunn asked. “I mean, we’re all still here, so it can’t be too bad yet, can it?”
“I need to refresh my memory as to the Cup’s lore a bit more,” Wesley answered. “Now that we’re certain of what’s been done, we’re going to have to find a way to reverse it before anything catastrophic occurs. If Spike is trapped somewhere in the Sunnydale of six years ago, he may not realize he’s changing anything until it’s too late for us.”
“Get on it,” Angel said. Then he turned to Fred. “That analysis of the Cup will probably help, too,” he added.
“You got it,” the young woman nodded purposefully. She turned to head back into the lab just as Harmony returned with another helping of heated blood, this time in a plastic sippy cup. Angel studied his secretary, glaring first at her, then at the child’s mug in her hands . . . the bright blue child’s mug with a grinning image of Barney the Dinosaur on the side.
Harmony gave a good-natured shrug. “Got this one from the day care center. Guaranteed not to spill,” she said nonchalantly. “Or break,” she added with a guilty smile and took a few quick steps past Angel to join Fred in entering the lab.
“We have day care?” Angel muttered to Wesley.
“Ground floor,” Wesley answered, “past the coffee shoppe.”
“Dedicated by Mr. The-Dinosaur, himself,” Lorne added, nodding his head in the direction Harmony had walked to indicate the cup she had been carrying. “Major contributor, you know. Big punter in the entertainment department.”
Angel’s eyebrows shot up. “Barney’s a client?” he asked. “Of ours?”
“Not only that, Angel Baby,” Lorne answered with a smirk, “but that costume? Not a costume.”
Angel looked bemused for a moment, then scoffed. Demon puppets. Who would've believed that? He shook the gathering cobwebs out of his mind and got back to the matter at hand. He stared at the door through which Harmony and Fred exited. "Do we need to worry about this Spike and how he’s being affected by our time?" he asked Wesley. "We could move him. Put him in some kind of solitary so he can’t interact with anyone."
Wesley breathed deeply and crossed his arms over his chest. “That may be wise," he agreed. "Though right now I’m more concerned with what our – er, – the other Spike is doing. There’s very little possibility that he’ll be able to avoid changing the present around us, even if he did gain insight into what was going on. And finding someone to help him return to our time will certainly pose a challenge, since he would have to explain why help was needed. Providing knowledge of the future to anyone can be just as damaging as Spike instigating changes himself.”
“We may be okay there.” Angel shook his head. “Spike was never one to ask for any help.”
To be continued . . .
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Date: 2005-04-02 09:12 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2005-04-03 01:59 pm (UTC)