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Oct. 29th, 2005 03:17 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
elgreyAll parts linked to from Story Notes
Temps Perdu, Part Four
Illyria had been gazing at Wesley fixedly for at least ten minutes. Gunn had been surreptitiously timing her. Angel was aware of her doing it too and, unlike Gunn, was getting increasingly irritated by her. Angel had got way too used to having Wes all to himself, in Gunn’s opinion, and needed to learn how to share. Gunn was more fascinated by the way Illyria didn’t seem to need to blink. Perhaps it was just because Illyria had saved him from a hell dimension, just to get in good with Wes, or maybe because, despite wearing the face of their dead friend, it felt like there was an important part of Illyria, not just Fred, that had the hots for Wesley, but either way he didn’t see her as an enemy, definitely an ally of sorts. In which case she could stare all she liked; it wasn’t hurting anyone. Wesley hadn’t even noticed.
Buffy had insisted that they were going to have a proper Thanksgiving dinner in the dining hall, so although Angel and Gunn had tried to tell her that they didn’t like the dining hall as it always reminded them both of The Shining, she had bulldozed their objections with the skill of long practice. So, here they were, all seated around a dining table in the middle of a score of others under eerie dust sheets, dining by candlelight because Buffy had insisted on that as well, passing hot rolls and cranberry sauce and sweet potato pie and in the case of Gunn trying not to stare at Illyria while she stared at Wesley.
Wesley had, at Buffy’s insistence, come down to dinner wearing his convalescent ‘uniform’ of new blue cotton pyjamas and matching robe. “It makes me feel like Arthur Dent,” he protested.
“But at least it’s honest about your physical fitness,” Buffy countered. “You’re not going to get better by pretending to be well when you’re not. You’re going to get better by resting, eating, and doing what Willow and I tell you. So there.”
Apart from being forced to wear jammies to the dinner table, Wesley was appearing more normal. He was still thin and pale and bruised, and certainly tired very quickly, but he seemed to be enjoying the Thanksgiving Dinner, asking Buffy what the dishes were and tasting them cautiously while Willow surreptitiously increased the portions on his plate.
“How are you feeling?” Angel asked him.
Wesley looked at him sideways. “Pretty much the same as I did ten minutes ago when you asked me that question.”
“Okay. Sorry.” Angel reached out and put a hand across his forehead. “Just checking.”
“Man, you’re paranoid,” Gunn told Angel loftily, before turning to Wesley. “But you’re really okay, right? You feel okay?”
Wesley tactfully suppressed a smile. “I feel much better, thank you. Clearly I’m a credit to your doctoring.”
“What about upstairs?” Spike tapped his temple.
“Are you asking about my level of sanity, Spike? If so, it’s slightly more precarious than when Angel and I left this dimension and slightly more stable than when we first returned to it.”
“Still pretty much only a nodding acquaintance with Mr Good Mental Health then?”
“Do you still crave death?” That was Illyria.
Wesley looked across at her. “I wasn’t aware that I ever did.”
Angel and Gunn exchanged a glance and Lorne hastily proposed a toast. “To – not being dead, pumpkins. I think we can definitely give thanks for that.”
“We don’t aim that high here,” Gunn explained to Xander. “Not being dead or irredeemably corrupted is pretty much a good day’s work for us.”
“And sometimes we even help the helpless,” Angel added dryly.
Gunn nodded in Angel’s direction as he added to Xander: “Of course, some of us can’t really manage the not being dead thing too well.”
“I still don’t understand why Buffy wanted to risk something icky happening by making a big deal out of Thanksgiving.” Xander heaped some more food onto his plate. “Last time she made a fuss about it, I got comedy syphilis and we were all nearly killed by the enraged spirits of dead Native Americans.”
“And I got shot full of arrows,” Spike pointed out.
“Yes, but that was funny.”
Seeing Illyria still gazing at Wesley, Angel closed his eyes in irritation. “Okay, what is it?”
Illyria turned her pale blue gaze on him. “I have sensed the power of another since the return of Wesley and yourself. A power which does not originate in this dimension.”
“And you were going to mention this when exactly?” Angel demanded.
Illyria regarded him dispassionately. “When a portal to another world is opened there will always be an imbalance created. I was waiting to see if it dispersed. It has not.”
“What are you saying?” Spike asked.
“That you are still connected to that world.”
Angel glowered at her. “No, we’re not.”
Wesley touched himself across the chest and arms. “I don’t feel connected. Illyria, do you mean because of the memories we carry with us of that place?”
“There is a link between this world and that one. I believe it comes from you.”
“The sigils.” Willow started up out of her chair. “I must have missed one.”
“You didn’t miss any. We checked. Thoroughly.” As everyone looked at her Buffy rolled her eyes. “For Wesley’s own good.”
Wesley pulled the robe around himself a little more tightly. “How…reassuring.”
Illyria still gazed at Wesley unblinkingly. “You were a chattel in that world, were you not?”
“No,” said Angel tersely. “He wasn’t.”
“The dimension you entered sounds to me like Askaroth. No human has the right to be anything but a possession in such a place. Legally he must have belonged to another.” She looked at Lorne. “You know how this works.”
“Well, Your Rhythm’n’Blueness, not wanting to disagree with you, but I see a big difference between something being legally the case and morally the case. Wesley might legally have been a ‘chattel’ in Askaroth but morally he was always a free agent....”
She waved that aside impatiently and turned to Angel. “Did you have legal possession of him in that world? Or as a half-breed were you also unable to own property?”
“Wes isn’t ‘property’,” Angel snapped at her.
Gunn was feeling a little uneasy; relevant information lining up in his mind to make itself known to him. “Legally, he may be. You said you were sold by slavers to some demon who ran fights, right? Did he get some kind of bill of ownership?”
“Why are we even talking about this?” Buffy demanded. “Wesley was there. Now he’s here. He’s never going back there. End of story.”
“Not necessarily.” Gunn turned to Wesley. “Wes, do you remember any kind of…branding ceremony?”
“I remember them…burning the sigils into my skin. It hurt. I passed out.” Wesley poured himself a glass of water from the jug on the table. “Is there a problem?”
“There could be.” Gunn looked at Angel’s angry face. “Look, I don’t like saying this any more than you like hearing it, but Illyria could have a point. When you were in Askaroth you were subject to its laws. There’s a chance that the demon who bought the two of you over there may be able to take some steps to reclaim his property. I was figuring as the portal had closed and the sigils were gone there was no way he’d be able to find you, but if he’s got some kind of extra mojo working to keep tabs on Wes....”
“There really weren’t any sigils left.” Willow fiddled with her napkin anxiously. “We did check and check.”
Illyria put her head on one side. “Some brands of ownership are not disclosed by human magic.”
“Meaning…?” Giles demanded.
“It may be that he can be drawn back there.”
Willow stared at her in horror. “No! That is not happening.”
Illyria gazed at her intently. “You have proof that my assumptions are incorrect?”
“No, I mean – we won’t let that happen to Wesley.”
“You have a means to prevent it?”
“We’ll find one,” Buffy insisted. “He’s not going back there. He is never going back there. Willow…?”
The red headed witch was already on her feet. “Giles, we need to research binding spells. We need to keep Wesley bound to this dimension and this world.”
Giles also nodded and got to his feet. “Of course.”
“Can’t you do it after dinner?” Wesley asked. “Buffy went to so much trouble.”
Buffy gazed at him. “Wes, do you really…? Never mind, we don’t have time – short version: turkey getting cold – on a par with a broken glass or maybe a persistent stain in the couch cushions. You getting dragged back to a hell dimension – worst enemy just stole your best guy, your hair frizzed, every nail got broken, you flunked math and have to take summer school to make up your grades, and your puppy died, essentially a happening that would seriously ruin the thanksgivingy vibe of my day. In short – best way for Buffy to have a good Thanksgiving – you not being reclaimed by evil demon slave owner guy. Got it?”
Wesley glanced across at Giles. “I think at least some of that was in some form of English, yes. But I don’t understand how that was the short version.”
“You will just have to take my word for it that it was and to be grateful for it,” Giles reassured him.
“I’m sure there’s nothing to worry about....” Wesley broke off to clutch at his chest.
Buffy pushed her hair chair back hastily. “Oh God, I saw that movie.”
Willow darted her a frightened look. “Me too.”
Through gritted teeth, Wesley said, “I assure you have I have nothing gestating in my chest.”
“Are you sure about that?” Xander demanded. “Because I can’t help remembering how everyone died except Sigourney Weaver. Well, and the cat. And we don’t have an airlock here to be blowing any nasties out of.”
Wesley doubled over, still clutching a hand to his chest and Angel knocked over his chair in his anxiety to get to him. He took Wesley by the shoulders and made him sit up. “Wes? Wes, what is it?”
“Burning....” Wesley managed through gritted teeth. “More like…searing. Very painful. Would really like it to stop now.”
Angel pulled back Wesley’s robe and ripped open his pyjama jacket, scattering buttons across the table. Spike picked one off his plate. “Drama queen.”
“Willow!” Angel shouted for the witch before he realized she was already standing by his left shoulder trying to get a look. “What is it?” he demanded.
Gunn also peered over Angel’s shoulder to look. There was a pentagram glowing on Wesley’s chest, a line of light beneath the skin that burnt brighter, and then abruptly broke the surface in line of fresh dark blood. Wesley clutched at his chest, exclaiming with the pain while Angel hastily snatched up a napkin from the table and held it to the fresh wound.
“Let me look,” Willow protested. “Giles…? Do you recognize it?”
“Not out of hand.” The man peered at it closely through his glasses.
“It is a brand of ownership,” Illyria said calmly.
Wesley looked up at her. “Whose brand?”
“It says ‘Katorakan’. He must have considered you of some value. The brand is one that carries a penalty of death for those who steal you or abet those who try to sell you to another. Such a brand is expensive. Strong magic was used to create it.”
“That doesn’t make any sense.” Angel was still mopping at the blood on Wesley’s chest, while the man breathed shallowly through the pain. “Wes was treated like garbage in that place. He was demon food. Nothing else. Katorakan was the demon who made money from the fights.”
“Perhaps he knew if he had hold of Wes you’d stick around and keep pulling in the punters?” Spike shrugged.
“But he wasn’t intending to keep us.” Wesley gritted his teeth as the blood welled up again. “We were being sold on. That’s why we had to escape. Katorakan’s fights took place in the open – his people were nomadic, travelling from township to township – there were possibilities for escape as long as we had access to open land. But we were being sold to a kind of demon sultan who kept his fighters in pits within a heavily guarded fortress.”
“Nashan-arel.” Angel grabbed another napkin and poured some of the water from his glass onto it before sponging Wesley’s chest. “A big demon with a lot of enemies – including Katorakan. He bid for us through an intermediary. We only found out because Katorakan captured one of his slaves and tortured him a bit too vigorously and the guy screamed loud enough for everyone to hear who he was working for. Katorakan cranked up the price after that but Nashan-arel had a boredom problem and he really wanted some new fighters.”
“Bid for you,” Wesley corrected. “I was what got tossed in free for the same price.”
“The point is that this Katorakan legally branded Wesley with his ownership.” Gunn wondered if he could impress upon them just how serious this is. “If this goes before any demon court in any dimension, they’re going to find for Katorakan. Most of them don’t admit human rights. It’s debated in a lot of worlds whether or not humans, as primarily a food source, are capable of sentient thought or can feel pain.”
“I can confirm the pain part.” Wesley dabbed at his chest again.
“If Katorakan comes here, we kill him.” Buffy shrugged.
“It may not be that simple.” Gunn turned to Giles as the one most likely to grasp what he was talking about. “If he has the full weight of a demon court behind him, they may have the power to take Wesley into custody – mystically. I think Angel should be safe enough. He’d count as a race that can’t be branded – that’s one of the differences between demonic and slave races in demon lore. If you can’t self-repair; if you can be easily scarred; you’re a lesser caste. Although vampires are only half-breeds they do have more demonic than human traits. I don’t think Katorakan can lay any kind of legal claim to Angel as all he did was pay money for him.”
Angel looked up at Gunn, dawning realization on his face. “You’re saying we may not be able to kill this guy?”
“That’s exactly what I’m saying.”
“And he has a legal right to…repossess Wes?”
“Yes.” Gunn took the bloodied napkin from Wesley’s fingers and examined the mark on his chest again. The bleeding had almost stopped now and where it was drying the symbol was very clear. “This is a very powerful brand of ownership.”
“What about legal mojo, lawyerboy?” Lorne poured himself a sea breeze as if he really needed one.
“I’m thinking....”
Willow said to Giles, “We need to work on that binding spell.”
“I don’t think it’s going to help,” Gunn admitted. “Demon courts have a lot of power.”
“Well, we need to find a really powerful binding spell then.” Giles and Willow went over to where the research books were but although Willow had sounded determined, she looked pale and anxious.
Xander looked from Buffy to Angel and then back to Gunn. “Tell me this isn’t going to happen? Tell me there’s a way to stop this happening?”
Gunn gazed at the brand again but it bore all the seal markings of the most powerful demon law and wished he could give him that assurance.
“What about Katorakan’s right to brand him in the first place?” Angel demanded.
“A human in Askaroth has no rights.” Illyria also gazed at the symbol, face unreadable, although Gunn suspected she was as anxious about Wesley as any of them.
“Couldn’t we set up a challenge to that position?” Giles called across from the books. “Try to get the demon courts to accept that humans aren’t chattels?”
Lorne nodded. “That sounds like the best approach to me. And a legal point that is well worth making, not just for Wesley’s sake but for the sake of humans the pan-dimensional soup kitchen over.”
Angel seemed to be working along his own lines. “What if Wesley wasn’t a free agent when Katorakan claimed him? What if Wesley was already someone else’s property?”
Wesley looked up. “I’m not.”
“Legally you could be.” Angel turned to Gunn. “If Wesley was already owned at the time Katorakan claimed ownership, that would make him stolen goods and Katorakan legally powerless to reclaim him, right?”
Gunn nodded. “Theoretically, yes. But Wes would have to be the property of someone regarded as able to own property under demon law. And in Askaroth that can’t apply to a human. Wesley’s father couldn’t claim him if that’s what you’re thinking.”
Angel stepped back, that set look on his face that sometimes meant he’d had a good idea and sometimes meant he was going to go and lock a bunch of lawyers in a wine cellar with a couple of homicidal she-vamps. “Legally, I think Wesley belongs to me.”
Giles and Buffy both looked at him sharply. Giles said, “What makes you think that?”
Spike also looked unconvinced. “Why? Because you say so?”
“No. Because he said so – five years ago – without coercion and of his own free will. He said he was my faithful servant. That’s a pledge of loyalty. Under the demon law of our world that does accept the rights and choices of a human that means he is my property and therefore under my protection.”
Gunn flicked through the information in his mind. “A verbal pledge isn’t enough. You need proof of ownership. Your mark on Wesley, or a blood oath or claiming ritual, preferably carried out according to demonic law.”
“There was.” Angel wheeled around triumphantly. “Wesley chose to give me his blood as further proof of his loyalty and reaffirmation of his allegiance.”
“Actually it was because you were hungry,” Wesley pointed out.
Angel still had that look that always made Gunn nervous. “But legally it could count as a blood oath, right?”
Gunn grimaced. “It would have been better if there was an existing brand of your ownership.”
“But do I have a case for prior ownership even without a brand?”
“You have something. You can point to a verbal oath of allegiance backed up by a blood offering.”
“What about the ‘claiming ritual’?” Buffy pressed. “Is there time for Angel to do that instead? That’s not going to be as bad as branding Wesley, is it?”
There was an awkward silence in which Angel and Gunn pointedly didn’t meet each other eyes, broken by Spike saying, “I’d lay good money Wes has already been ‘claimed’ by Angel anyway. Just pretend you said some demonic mumbo jumbo while you were doing him – it – doing it.”
“I haven’t done…that to Wesley,” Angel insisted.
Spike looked unconvinced. “Not even once?”
“No.”
“Not even when he was drunk?”
“No.”
“What about Angelus? He’d have…claimed Wes as soon as looked at him. That would count, wouldn’t it?”
“It didn’t happen,” Angel retorted.
Spike turned to Gunn. “What about now? If the big poof leaves out all the bondage and torture it usually only takes him about three minutes so he could probably have Wes all nice and legal by eight-thirty.”
“I don’t think that’s necessary,” Gunn said hastily. “Like Angel said, Wesley offered him an oath of loyalty and sealed it with his blood before they went to Askaroth. It may be enough.”
“I’m not denying its effectiveness.” Giles came back over. “But am I the only one disturbed by using this argument? It’s effectively compromising Wesley’s rights as an individual to prop up a legal system that is immoral and racist.”
“I don’t care.” Angel glared at him. “If it keeps Wesley out of Askaroth I’ll use any means necessary.”
“You’re not the one being turned into someone else’s legal property.”
“Supposing Willow got sucked into a hole in time and you got sucked in right along with her. You’re back in the Middle Ages and they’re going to burn her as a witch. They know God thinks it’s right for them to burn witches and that she’s in league with Satan or else she wouldn’t have the powers she does. Do you waste your time pointing out to them that burning witches is futile and immoral or do you find whatever legal loophole you can within their own crazy witchfinder general system to stop them setting that brush on fire? Think fast, Giles, because they’re lighting the torches right now.”
Giles looked at Angel’s angry intent face and nodded. “I see your point.”
“Good. Because right now it’s my friend tied to the brushwood. Why ever Katorakan may want Wesley back in his hell dimension it’s not going to be to Wesley’s advantage. If they take him back there he isn’t going to make it. He’s going to be made a demon chew toy and there is nothing I won’t do to stop that happening.”
“Angel....” Wesley said gently. “It’s okay. No one here is trying to send me back there.”
“We don’t even know they want him back there,” Xander protested. “Isn’t everyone going a little crazy for no good reason right now? Just because Madam Smurf Demon has a feeling in her water, does that really mean anyone is going to come here to reclaim Wesley? Like Angel said they didn’t seem to want him when they had him so why should they care now?”
“That’s what I don’t understand.” Wesley cautiously ran his fingertips across the bloody mark on his chest. “Katorakan didn’t know my name. He had no interest in me at all. Why would he bother to go through the expensive business of branding me with his symbol and making sure that he could track me even to a different dimension?”
“Because you were valuable to him.” Illyria regarded him curiously. “There can be no other explanation.”
“But I wasn’t. I was about as valuable to him as a ham sandwich, and a slightly mouldy ham sandwich at that.”
“Hey.” Buffy looked at him. “I thought you were working on those self esteem issues?”
“I’m just being realistic.”
“Willow got rid of the sigils.” Xander looked around at everyone. “How can Wesley still be tracked here?”
As a distant roaring began to manifest itself as a whole building shaking of the Hyperion, Gunn said, “I’m not sure, but I’m thinking that’s what’s happening.”
Before the words were out of his mouth a red-skinned demon dressed in rich fabrics and hung around with chains of power, and two massive stone seats of justice with armoured dignitaries seated upon them appeared in the lobby of the Hyperion.
“Bugger,” said Spike distinctly.
“There it is.” The red-skinned demon pointed imperiously at Wesley. “I reclaim my property under the laws of Askaroth.”
“He’s not your property.” Angel stood in front of Wesley while Spike crossed over to where the weapons cabinet was and began to break out axes and swords to the assembled Scoobies and Hyperion residents.
“That one is mine as well.” Katorakan pointed to Angel. “I paid a good price for that vampire.”
With his heart beating fast, Gunn stepped in front of Angel. “We dispute that claim under article 108, subsection 26 of Earth Demon Law. A vampire is an unbrandable being and for the purposes of ownership disputes shall be judged as if it were a full demon. As a vampire, Angel cannot be owned by man or demon, or any other breed.”
The two dignitaries inclined their heads majestically. “We find in favour of the vampire. He cannot be owned. He is not your property.”
Katorakan showed no particular displeasure, only the mildest of irritation. He turned his attention back to Wesley. “I concede the vampire – despite the considerable sum I paid for it – and submit myself to the ruling of this noble court. But as to the human there can be no dispute. It is my property, bought and marked as mine.”
As Gunn took a deep breath, Angel stepped forward. “Stolen goods,” he said flatly.
Katorakan gazed at him in disbelief. “This is absurd. The creature was unbranded.”
“I didn’t need to brand him. He was bound to me by a vow of fealty and a blood oath. Given freely, which in this dimension makes him my property by Demon Law.”
“I don’t believe it,” Katorakan retorted. “If that were so you would have legally removed my brand and yet you have not done so.” He pointed to Wesley and his scored chest.
Gunn said quickly, “We would not presume to tamper with a legal document recognized by so ancient and noble a court as the one in which we now find ourselves. But we do dispute the legality of Katorakan’s claim to ownership. The human known as Wesley had already given a vow of loyalty and fidelity to the vampire known as Angel. We know that this court recognizes the right of a vampire to have full ownership of a human, and that such an owned human cannot be claimed by another unless it is with the vampire’s consent.”
“And for the record,” Angel put in. “I didn’t consent. My consent wasn’t asked and if it had been I wouldn’t have given it. At the time when Katorakan was paying money for Wesley he was already owned by me. So, like I said – stolen goods.”
Glancing across at Giles, Gunn could see the Englishman gritting his teeth over the word ‘owned’ and he was having a little trouble saying it himself, but, on this, Angel was right, this was not the time or the place to start disputing the morality of humans having no rights in an Askorathan demon court. This was the time and the place to hang onto Wesley by any means possible and to debate the ethics of it later.
“Is there a signed document of this ownership?” the first dignitary enquired.
Angel shook his head and Gunn said quickly, “As the defendant was not anticipating leaving this dimension he saw no reason to register an ownership which at that time and on this world was not disputed.”
“Why is Angel the defendant?” Xander murmured. “Isn’t Wesley the guy in the dock…?”
“No,” Giles said tautly. “Wesley has no rights except as something owned by Angel. Think of Margaret Garner, the escaped slave who killed one of her children to prevent her from being returned to slavery when recapture became inevitable, and the case of ‘destruction of property’ brought against her.”
“Does he carry any mark of ownership?” the second dignitary pressed.
“Only the mark erroneously affixed to the disputed human property by Lord Katorakan when he was unaware of the disputed human’s true ownership.”
“I am its true owner,” Katorakan retorted fiercely. “There was nothing erroneous in its branding. It was carried out exactly according to the laws of Askaroth. This vampire’s claim is spurious and false.”
“I really don’t like him,” Buffy observed to Willow.
“I hate this legal mumbo jumbo,” Spike growled. “Why can’t we just kill the slave-owning bastard and be done with it?”
Gunn said rapidly in an undertone: “Katorakan is under the protection of the court. Any move against him will be contempt of court and it could cost Wesley his life.” Turning back to the dignitaries he said, “With all due respect to Lord Katorakan, the vampire’s ownership of the human called Wesley is indisputable under Earth Demon Law. According to Article 9176, an oath of fealty by a lesser being to a demon shall be accepted as binding and cannot be broken except by the consent of that demon – a consent that in this case was clearly not given. The oath was given many years prior to the human’s arrival in your dimension and was ratified by a second oath of fealty, made in blood, as laid down in clause 584 subsection 929 of the Articles of Bondage.”
“‘Articles of Bondage’?” Xander looked across at Spike. “That sounds like so much less fun than you’d expect.”
“What proof is there of this oath of fealty in word or blood, and how can it compare with a legal branding?” Katorakan demanded.
“You have my word as a…demon,” Angel said.
The two dignitaries conferred quietly and then the first looked up. “If this oath is truly binding by the laws of this dimension then it shall prove sufficient to overwrite the claim made by Katorakan. In your world, your laws shall prove the stronger. But there must be proof that such an oath was made.”
“What proof do you need?” Angel enquired.
“The branding of the human is a legal document, signed in the blood of the one who claimed him as a chattel. If in truth this human was already your property then your blood shall be enough to overwrite the signature of Katorakan. If not, then your claim was not properly binding even in your own world and the human shall pass back to Katorakan.”
Gunn said rapidly to Angel: “Your blood should dissolve the brand on Wesley’s chest. If it doesn’t, Katorakan’s claim stands and we have a very bloody probably very futile fight on our hands.”
Looking as though he were not in any doubt as the outcome, Angel picked up a knife from the table, walked over to where Wesley was still sitting and stood over him. The two exchanged a glance and then Angel slashed his palm and held it over Wesley’s chest. There was an endless pause before the first drop of blood splashed down onto Wesley’s skin, and for a terrible second nothing happened. Gunn was mentally working out how best to utilize what assets they had in the inevitable fight when there was a sizzle and Angel’s blood began dissolve the edge of the brand. Angel squeezed his hand so more blood fell, and, where each drop landed, Katorakan’s brand was dissolved and unmarked skin left beneath it.
Angel closed his eyes but gave no other outward sign of his relief, but Gunn had difficulty stopping his knees from sagging. Xander was not exactly wearing his best poker face either, and Willow put her arms around Buffy to hug her. Wesley gazed down at his chest and the vanishing brand as if fascinated by it.
Illyria stepped into the breach. “The court accepts the vampire’s ownership of the human called Wesley? They concur that the vampire had a prior claim and that Katorakan’s branding was unlawful and unbinding?”
The dignitaries consulted for a moment and then gravely inclined their head. “We do. We would suggest that the vampire should affix his own mark to his property so that no further confusion arises as to this human’s bonded state.”
“I paid money for that slave in good faith.” Katorakan was far more hot and bothered than Gunn would have expected. He had barely looked at Wesley; only at the brand on his chest which Angel’s blood had now completely dissolved; yet it seemed to be of an entirely disproportionate importance to him that he should be able to take Wesley back with him.
The second dignitary said gravely: “The court accepts that no wrong doing was intended by Katorakan and that he had no reason to assume the human was already owned. In this we feel the vampire was negligent and has only himself to blame for the confusion.” He looked at Angel directly. “You will see to it that in future all slaves of your possession are properly branded with your mark?”
“Of course.” Angel’s face didn’t so much as flicker whereas Gunn could hear Giles grinding his teeth from twenty feet away.
“Then this court finds in your favour. The slave is yours. Katorakan’s claim is disallowed. If however you come before this court a second time and are proven to be negligent in the correct marking of your property it may be deemed necessary to confiscate your goods. In this instance we accept that you were not attempting to deceive anyone. Next time we may not be so lenient.”
“You don’t understand. I have to have that slave!” Katorakan glared at Wesley.
Illyria put her head on one side, like a bird of prey sighting a rabbit a long way below her. “You are not welcome here. The court will not protect you if you argue with its findings.” She tilted her head the other way, subtly inhuman.
Spike was already twirling an axe in his hands, while Buffy was holding up her sword. As the ground began to rumble once again, Katorakan looked at Wesley again, very obviously weighed up the chances of successfully snatching him, looked from Spike to Buffy to Illyria, snarled and then backed up. “You’ll regret this,” he told him.
“Really doubt it,” Spike retorted.
“The decision of the court is final.” The first dignitary lifted a hand and the rumbling became louder and then the dais, the two dignitaries, and Katorakan disappeared in a cloud of smoke
“That was cool.” Buffy sheathed the sword. “As dramatic mystical exits go anyway.”
Wesley looked up at Angel. “Thank you.”
“Yeah.” Spike tossed the axe down onto the lobby couch and strolled across. “For once, being an arrogant, possessive, megalomaniac control freak actually worked out for someone other than you. Kudos.”
Wesley looked past Angel to Gunn. “And thank you, too.”
“You rocked.” Xander slapped Gunn on the shoulder.
“You are Perry Mason, Petrocelli, and Clarence Darrow rolled into one, my legally enhanced slice of cherry pie.” Lorne reached across to high five Gunn.
Gunn looked at Illyria. “Well, I paid a high enough price for this ability. It’s something to be able to use it for good.”
“You saved my life, Charles.” Wesley gazed at him intently. “If you didn’t have all that demon law in your brain I would be on my way to being very dead right now. And I am truly grateful to you.”
Gunn reached out and for the first time in a long time he and Wesley touched their knuckles together and then shared their old familiar handshake. “You’re welcome, English, just don’t go diving into any more hell dimensions.”
Giles nodded. “Yes. I hate the way we won this one, but I’m glad it was won nevertheless.”
Angel looked at Gunn. “Now what do I need to do to prove to the demon courts of this dimension that Wes is my property?”
Gunn cleared his throat. “Like I said, your…mark has to be mystically burnt into Wesley’s skin.”
“That isn’t an option.” Giles took in Angel’s expression. “You can’t be serious?”
“Of course he isn’t serious,” Xander reassured everyone. “Angel…? You’re not serious, right?”
“Whatever Wesley is or has it’s important to Katorakan. I don’t trust him to leave matters like this. We need some really unanswerable proof that Wesley is my property.”
“But he isn’t your property,” Giles said intently.
Angel glanced at him. “He’s alive because that’s exactly what he is. And I’m keeping him that way.”
“Alive or yours?” Spike enquired.
“Both.”
Spike rolled his eyes. “You are such a drama queen.”
“I keep my people safe.” They all knew that was a lie but no one quite had the heart to contradict it. Certainly, Angel always wanted to keep his people safe even if he didn’t always manage it.
“And enslaved apparently.” Giles met Angel’s eyes. “This is wrong and you know it.”
“I don’t care if it’s wrong or right. I care about keeping Wesley away from Katorakan and I’ll use any means available to do that.”
“Why don’t you just do as Spike suggested and rape him then?” Giles demanded.
Wesley held up a hand. “I’d like to vote against that option.”
“Yes, but your opinion doesn’t count for anything, Wesley,” Giles told him tersely. “Remember you’re just a demon chattel now. Angel will do what is best for you whether you want him to or not.”
Spike also held up a hand. “I was gonna knock Wes out so he wouldn’t be conscious for it. And it’s not like it would be the first time Angel’s done someone when they’re....”
“Shut up, Spike.” Angel turned back to Giles. “Wesley is my responsibility, not yours. I’m older than him and I’m older than you.”
“Daddy knows best, eh?” Spike observed. “Actually I think you’ll find her blue rinseness has the drop on you when it comes to seniority. You going to let her choose who Wesley belongs to on that account?”
“He is not your property,” Giles told him through gritted teeth.
“I’m keeping him safe. And I’m keeping him here.” He turned to Wesley and at once his eyes were kind and anxious. “Wes, we get the binding spell up and running, we cover all the angles; then we work out what the hell Katorakan wanted you for. You don’t need to worry. I’m going to take care of this. I’m going to take care of you.”
“I know.” Wesley looked at him anxiously. “Angel. You don’t need to....”
“Yes, I do.” Angel stroked Wesley’s hair back from his face. “You look tired and you lost more blood. Let me help you upstairs.”
As Wesley obediently stood up and let Angel support him, Gunn said quietly to Giles, “Angel is only trying to....”
“He’s trying my patience, I can tell you that much.”
“He just wants to keep Wesley safe.” But Buffy was also watching Angel’s departure a little anxiously.
Spike shook his head. “The guy has lost it, and I don’t mean somewhere in the immediate vicinity, I mean lost it way way over there somewhere. Not going to be found without a major expedition lost it.”
“He’s worried about Wesley.”
Willow looked pretty worried herself, and Xander put his arm around her shoulders and gave her a hug.
“He’s scary, I grant you, and I’m not sure those two have half a healthy psyche between them, but the point is Wesley is still here and the bad demon guy isn’t, so let’s chalk one up for the good guys and go eat pie.”
***
Temps Perdu, Part Four
Illyria had been gazing at Wesley fixedly for at least ten minutes. Gunn had been surreptitiously timing her. Angel was aware of her doing it too and, unlike Gunn, was getting increasingly irritated by her. Angel had got way too used to having Wes all to himself, in Gunn’s opinion, and needed to learn how to share. Gunn was more fascinated by the way Illyria didn’t seem to need to blink. Perhaps it was just because Illyria had saved him from a hell dimension, just to get in good with Wes, or maybe because, despite wearing the face of their dead friend, it felt like there was an important part of Illyria, not just Fred, that had the hots for Wesley, but either way he didn’t see her as an enemy, definitely an ally of sorts. In which case she could stare all she liked; it wasn’t hurting anyone. Wesley hadn’t even noticed.
Buffy had insisted that they were going to have a proper Thanksgiving dinner in the dining hall, so although Angel and Gunn had tried to tell her that they didn’t like the dining hall as it always reminded them both of The Shining, she had bulldozed their objections with the skill of long practice. So, here they were, all seated around a dining table in the middle of a score of others under eerie dust sheets, dining by candlelight because Buffy had insisted on that as well, passing hot rolls and cranberry sauce and sweet potato pie and in the case of Gunn trying not to stare at Illyria while she stared at Wesley.
Wesley had, at Buffy’s insistence, come down to dinner wearing his convalescent ‘uniform’ of new blue cotton pyjamas and matching robe. “It makes me feel like Arthur Dent,” he protested.
“But at least it’s honest about your physical fitness,” Buffy countered. “You’re not going to get better by pretending to be well when you’re not. You’re going to get better by resting, eating, and doing what Willow and I tell you. So there.”
Apart from being forced to wear jammies to the dinner table, Wesley was appearing more normal. He was still thin and pale and bruised, and certainly tired very quickly, but he seemed to be enjoying the Thanksgiving Dinner, asking Buffy what the dishes were and tasting them cautiously while Willow surreptitiously increased the portions on his plate.
“How are you feeling?” Angel asked him.
Wesley looked at him sideways. “Pretty much the same as I did ten minutes ago when you asked me that question.”
“Okay. Sorry.” Angel reached out and put a hand across his forehead. “Just checking.”
“Man, you’re paranoid,” Gunn told Angel loftily, before turning to Wesley. “But you’re really okay, right? You feel okay?”
Wesley tactfully suppressed a smile. “I feel much better, thank you. Clearly I’m a credit to your doctoring.”
“What about upstairs?” Spike tapped his temple.
“Are you asking about my level of sanity, Spike? If so, it’s slightly more precarious than when Angel and I left this dimension and slightly more stable than when we first returned to it.”
“Still pretty much only a nodding acquaintance with Mr Good Mental Health then?”
“Do you still crave death?” That was Illyria.
Wesley looked across at her. “I wasn’t aware that I ever did.”
Angel and Gunn exchanged a glance and Lorne hastily proposed a toast. “To – not being dead, pumpkins. I think we can definitely give thanks for that.”
“We don’t aim that high here,” Gunn explained to Xander. “Not being dead or irredeemably corrupted is pretty much a good day’s work for us.”
“And sometimes we even help the helpless,” Angel added dryly.
Gunn nodded in Angel’s direction as he added to Xander: “Of course, some of us can’t really manage the not being dead thing too well.”
“I still don’t understand why Buffy wanted to risk something icky happening by making a big deal out of Thanksgiving.” Xander heaped some more food onto his plate. “Last time she made a fuss about it, I got comedy syphilis and we were all nearly killed by the enraged spirits of dead Native Americans.”
“And I got shot full of arrows,” Spike pointed out.
“Yes, but that was funny.”
Seeing Illyria still gazing at Wesley, Angel closed his eyes in irritation. “Okay, what is it?”
Illyria turned her pale blue gaze on him. “I have sensed the power of another since the return of Wesley and yourself. A power which does not originate in this dimension.”
“And you were going to mention this when exactly?” Angel demanded.
Illyria regarded him dispassionately. “When a portal to another world is opened there will always be an imbalance created. I was waiting to see if it dispersed. It has not.”
“What are you saying?” Spike asked.
“That you are still connected to that world.”
Angel glowered at her. “No, we’re not.”
Wesley touched himself across the chest and arms. “I don’t feel connected. Illyria, do you mean because of the memories we carry with us of that place?”
“There is a link between this world and that one. I believe it comes from you.”
“The sigils.” Willow started up out of her chair. “I must have missed one.”
“You didn’t miss any. We checked. Thoroughly.” As everyone looked at her Buffy rolled her eyes. “For Wesley’s own good.”
Wesley pulled the robe around himself a little more tightly. “How…reassuring.”
Illyria still gazed at Wesley unblinkingly. “You were a chattel in that world, were you not?”
“No,” said Angel tersely. “He wasn’t.”
“The dimension you entered sounds to me like Askaroth. No human has the right to be anything but a possession in such a place. Legally he must have belonged to another.” She looked at Lorne. “You know how this works.”
“Well, Your Rhythm’n’Blueness, not wanting to disagree with you, but I see a big difference between something being legally the case and morally the case. Wesley might legally have been a ‘chattel’ in Askaroth but morally he was always a free agent....”
She waved that aside impatiently and turned to Angel. “Did you have legal possession of him in that world? Or as a half-breed were you also unable to own property?”
“Wes isn’t ‘property’,” Angel snapped at her.
Gunn was feeling a little uneasy; relevant information lining up in his mind to make itself known to him. “Legally, he may be. You said you were sold by slavers to some demon who ran fights, right? Did he get some kind of bill of ownership?”
“Why are we even talking about this?” Buffy demanded. “Wesley was there. Now he’s here. He’s never going back there. End of story.”
“Not necessarily.” Gunn turned to Wesley. “Wes, do you remember any kind of…branding ceremony?”
“I remember them…burning the sigils into my skin. It hurt. I passed out.” Wesley poured himself a glass of water from the jug on the table. “Is there a problem?”
“There could be.” Gunn looked at Angel’s angry face. “Look, I don’t like saying this any more than you like hearing it, but Illyria could have a point. When you were in Askaroth you were subject to its laws. There’s a chance that the demon who bought the two of you over there may be able to take some steps to reclaim his property. I was figuring as the portal had closed and the sigils were gone there was no way he’d be able to find you, but if he’s got some kind of extra mojo working to keep tabs on Wes....”
“There really weren’t any sigils left.” Willow fiddled with her napkin anxiously. “We did check and check.”
Illyria put her head on one side. “Some brands of ownership are not disclosed by human magic.”
“Meaning…?” Giles demanded.
“It may be that he can be drawn back there.”
Willow stared at her in horror. “No! That is not happening.”
Illyria gazed at her intently. “You have proof that my assumptions are incorrect?”
“No, I mean – we won’t let that happen to Wesley.”
“You have a means to prevent it?”
“We’ll find one,” Buffy insisted. “He’s not going back there. He is never going back there. Willow…?”
The red headed witch was already on her feet. “Giles, we need to research binding spells. We need to keep Wesley bound to this dimension and this world.”
Giles also nodded and got to his feet. “Of course.”
“Can’t you do it after dinner?” Wesley asked. “Buffy went to so much trouble.”
Buffy gazed at him. “Wes, do you really…? Never mind, we don’t have time – short version: turkey getting cold – on a par with a broken glass or maybe a persistent stain in the couch cushions. You getting dragged back to a hell dimension – worst enemy just stole your best guy, your hair frizzed, every nail got broken, you flunked math and have to take summer school to make up your grades, and your puppy died, essentially a happening that would seriously ruin the thanksgivingy vibe of my day. In short – best way for Buffy to have a good Thanksgiving – you not being reclaimed by evil demon slave owner guy. Got it?”
Wesley glanced across at Giles. “I think at least some of that was in some form of English, yes. But I don’t understand how that was the short version.”
“You will just have to take my word for it that it was and to be grateful for it,” Giles reassured him.
“I’m sure there’s nothing to worry about....” Wesley broke off to clutch at his chest.
Buffy pushed her hair chair back hastily. “Oh God, I saw that movie.”
Willow darted her a frightened look. “Me too.”
Through gritted teeth, Wesley said, “I assure you have I have nothing gestating in my chest.”
“Are you sure about that?” Xander demanded. “Because I can’t help remembering how everyone died except Sigourney Weaver. Well, and the cat. And we don’t have an airlock here to be blowing any nasties out of.”
Wesley doubled over, still clutching a hand to his chest and Angel knocked over his chair in his anxiety to get to him. He took Wesley by the shoulders and made him sit up. “Wes? Wes, what is it?”
“Burning....” Wesley managed through gritted teeth. “More like…searing. Very painful. Would really like it to stop now.”
Angel pulled back Wesley’s robe and ripped open his pyjama jacket, scattering buttons across the table. Spike picked one off his plate. “Drama queen.”
“Willow!” Angel shouted for the witch before he realized she was already standing by his left shoulder trying to get a look. “What is it?” he demanded.
Gunn also peered over Angel’s shoulder to look. There was a pentagram glowing on Wesley’s chest, a line of light beneath the skin that burnt brighter, and then abruptly broke the surface in line of fresh dark blood. Wesley clutched at his chest, exclaiming with the pain while Angel hastily snatched up a napkin from the table and held it to the fresh wound.
“Let me look,” Willow protested. “Giles…? Do you recognize it?”
“Not out of hand.” The man peered at it closely through his glasses.
“It is a brand of ownership,” Illyria said calmly.
Wesley looked up at her. “Whose brand?”
“It says ‘Katorakan’. He must have considered you of some value. The brand is one that carries a penalty of death for those who steal you or abet those who try to sell you to another. Such a brand is expensive. Strong magic was used to create it.”
“That doesn’t make any sense.” Angel was still mopping at the blood on Wesley’s chest, while the man breathed shallowly through the pain. “Wes was treated like garbage in that place. He was demon food. Nothing else. Katorakan was the demon who made money from the fights.”
“Perhaps he knew if he had hold of Wes you’d stick around and keep pulling in the punters?” Spike shrugged.
“But he wasn’t intending to keep us.” Wesley gritted his teeth as the blood welled up again. “We were being sold on. That’s why we had to escape. Katorakan’s fights took place in the open – his people were nomadic, travelling from township to township – there were possibilities for escape as long as we had access to open land. But we were being sold to a kind of demon sultan who kept his fighters in pits within a heavily guarded fortress.”
“Nashan-arel.” Angel grabbed another napkin and poured some of the water from his glass onto it before sponging Wesley’s chest. “A big demon with a lot of enemies – including Katorakan. He bid for us through an intermediary. We only found out because Katorakan captured one of his slaves and tortured him a bit too vigorously and the guy screamed loud enough for everyone to hear who he was working for. Katorakan cranked up the price after that but Nashan-arel had a boredom problem and he really wanted some new fighters.”
“Bid for you,” Wesley corrected. “I was what got tossed in free for the same price.”
“The point is that this Katorakan legally branded Wesley with his ownership.” Gunn wondered if he could impress upon them just how serious this is. “If this goes before any demon court in any dimension, they’re going to find for Katorakan. Most of them don’t admit human rights. It’s debated in a lot of worlds whether or not humans, as primarily a food source, are capable of sentient thought or can feel pain.”
“I can confirm the pain part.” Wesley dabbed at his chest again.
“If Katorakan comes here, we kill him.” Buffy shrugged.
“It may not be that simple.” Gunn turned to Giles as the one most likely to grasp what he was talking about. “If he has the full weight of a demon court behind him, they may have the power to take Wesley into custody – mystically. I think Angel should be safe enough. He’d count as a race that can’t be branded – that’s one of the differences between demonic and slave races in demon lore. If you can’t self-repair; if you can be easily scarred; you’re a lesser caste. Although vampires are only half-breeds they do have more demonic than human traits. I don’t think Katorakan can lay any kind of legal claim to Angel as all he did was pay money for him.”
Angel looked up at Gunn, dawning realization on his face. “You’re saying we may not be able to kill this guy?”
“That’s exactly what I’m saying.”
“And he has a legal right to…repossess Wes?”
“Yes.” Gunn took the bloodied napkin from Wesley’s fingers and examined the mark on his chest again. The bleeding had almost stopped now and where it was drying the symbol was very clear. “This is a very powerful brand of ownership.”
“What about legal mojo, lawyerboy?” Lorne poured himself a sea breeze as if he really needed one.
“I’m thinking....”
Willow said to Giles, “We need to work on that binding spell.”
“I don’t think it’s going to help,” Gunn admitted. “Demon courts have a lot of power.”
“Well, we need to find a really powerful binding spell then.” Giles and Willow went over to where the research books were but although Willow had sounded determined, she looked pale and anxious.
Xander looked from Buffy to Angel and then back to Gunn. “Tell me this isn’t going to happen? Tell me there’s a way to stop this happening?”
Gunn gazed at the brand again but it bore all the seal markings of the most powerful demon law and wished he could give him that assurance.
“What about Katorakan’s right to brand him in the first place?” Angel demanded.
“A human in Askaroth has no rights.” Illyria also gazed at the symbol, face unreadable, although Gunn suspected she was as anxious about Wesley as any of them.
“Couldn’t we set up a challenge to that position?” Giles called across from the books. “Try to get the demon courts to accept that humans aren’t chattels?”
Lorne nodded. “That sounds like the best approach to me. And a legal point that is well worth making, not just for Wesley’s sake but for the sake of humans the pan-dimensional soup kitchen over.”
Angel seemed to be working along his own lines. “What if Wesley wasn’t a free agent when Katorakan claimed him? What if Wesley was already someone else’s property?”
Wesley looked up. “I’m not.”
“Legally you could be.” Angel turned to Gunn. “If Wesley was already owned at the time Katorakan claimed ownership, that would make him stolen goods and Katorakan legally powerless to reclaim him, right?”
Gunn nodded. “Theoretically, yes. But Wes would have to be the property of someone regarded as able to own property under demon law. And in Askaroth that can’t apply to a human. Wesley’s father couldn’t claim him if that’s what you’re thinking.”
Angel stepped back, that set look on his face that sometimes meant he’d had a good idea and sometimes meant he was going to go and lock a bunch of lawyers in a wine cellar with a couple of homicidal she-vamps. “Legally, I think Wesley belongs to me.”
Giles and Buffy both looked at him sharply. Giles said, “What makes you think that?”
Spike also looked unconvinced. “Why? Because you say so?”
“No. Because he said so – five years ago – without coercion and of his own free will. He said he was my faithful servant. That’s a pledge of loyalty. Under the demon law of our world that does accept the rights and choices of a human that means he is my property and therefore under my protection.”
Gunn flicked through the information in his mind. “A verbal pledge isn’t enough. You need proof of ownership. Your mark on Wesley, or a blood oath or claiming ritual, preferably carried out according to demonic law.”
“There was.” Angel wheeled around triumphantly. “Wesley chose to give me his blood as further proof of his loyalty and reaffirmation of his allegiance.”
“Actually it was because you were hungry,” Wesley pointed out.
Angel still had that look that always made Gunn nervous. “But legally it could count as a blood oath, right?”
Gunn grimaced. “It would have been better if there was an existing brand of your ownership.”
“But do I have a case for prior ownership even without a brand?”
“You have something. You can point to a verbal oath of allegiance backed up by a blood offering.”
“What about the ‘claiming ritual’?” Buffy pressed. “Is there time for Angel to do that instead? That’s not going to be as bad as branding Wesley, is it?”
There was an awkward silence in which Angel and Gunn pointedly didn’t meet each other eyes, broken by Spike saying, “I’d lay good money Wes has already been ‘claimed’ by Angel anyway. Just pretend you said some demonic mumbo jumbo while you were doing him – it – doing it.”
“I haven’t done…that to Wesley,” Angel insisted.
Spike looked unconvinced. “Not even once?”
“No.”
“Not even when he was drunk?”
“No.”
“What about Angelus? He’d have…claimed Wes as soon as looked at him. That would count, wouldn’t it?”
“It didn’t happen,” Angel retorted.
Spike turned to Gunn. “What about now? If the big poof leaves out all the bondage and torture it usually only takes him about three minutes so he could probably have Wes all nice and legal by eight-thirty.”
“I don’t think that’s necessary,” Gunn said hastily. “Like Angel said, Wesley offered him an oath of loyalty and sealed it with his blood before they went to Askaroth. It may be enough.”
“I’m not denying its effectiveness.” Giles came back over. “But am I the only one disturbed by using this argument? It’s effectively compromising Wesley’s rights as an individual to prop up a legal system that is immoral and racist.”
“I don’t care.” Angel glared at him. “If it keeps Wesley out of Askaroth I’ll use any means necessary.”
“You’re not the one being turned into someone else’s legal property.”
“Supposing Willow got sucked into a hole in time and you got sucked in right along with her. You’re back in the Middle Ages and they’re going to burn her as a witch. They know God thinks it’s right for them to burn witches and that she’s in league with Satan or else she wouldn’t have the powers she does. Do you waste your time pointing out to them that burning witches is futile and immoral or do you find whatever legal loophole you can within their own crazy witchfinder general system to stop them setting that brush on fire? Think fast, Giles, because they’re lighting the torches right now.”
Giles looked at Angel’s angry intent face and nodded. “I see your point.”
“Good. Because right now it’s my friend tied to the brushwood. Why ever Katorakan may want Wesley back in his hell dimension it’s not going to be to Wesley’s advantage. If they take him back there he isn’t going to make it. He’s going to be made a demon chew toy and there is nothing I won’t do to stop that happening.”
“Angel....” Wesley said gently. “It’s okay. No one here is trying to send me back there.”
“We don’t even know they want him back there,” Xander protested. “Isn’t everyone going a little crazy for no good reason right now? Just because Madam Smurf Demon has a feeling in her water, does that really mean anyone is going to come here to reclaim Wesley? Like Angel said they didn’t seem to want him when they had him so why should they care now?”
“That’s what I don’t understand.” Wesley cautiously ran his fingertips across the bloody mark on his chest. “Katorakan didn’t know my name. He had no interest in me at all. Why would he bother to go through the expensive business of branding me with his symbol and making sure that he could track me even to a different dimension?”
“Because you were valuable to him.” Illyria regarded him curiously. “There can be no other explanation.”
“But I wasn’t. I was about as valuable to him as a ham sandwich, and a slightly mouldy ham sandwich at that.”
“Hey.” Buffy looked at him. “I thought you were working on those self esteem issues?”
“I’m just being realistic.”
“Willow got rid of the sigils.” Xander looked around at everyone. “How can Wesley still be tracked here?”
As a distant roaring began to manifest itself as a whole building shaking of the Hyperion, Gunn said, “I’m not sure, but I’m thinking that’s what’s happening.”
Before the words were out of his mouth a red-skinned demon dressed in rich fabrics and hung around with chains of power, and two massive stone seats of justice with armoured dignitaries seated upon them appeared in the lobby of the Hyperion.
“Bugger,” said Spike distinctly.
“There it is.” The red-skinned demon pointed imperiously at Wesley. “I reclaim my property under the laws of Askaroth.”
“He’s not your property.” Angel stood in front of Wesley while Spike crossed over to where the weapons cabinet was and began to break out axes and swords to the assembled Scoobies and Hyperion residents.
“That one is mine as well.” Katorakan pointed to Angel. “I paid a good price for that vampire.”
With his heart beating fast, Gunn stepped in front of Angel. “We dispute that claim under article 108, subsection 26 of Earth Demon Law. A vampire is an unbrandable being and for the purposes of ownership disputes shall be judged as if it were a full demon. As a vampire, Angel cannot be owned by man or demon, or any other breed.”
The two dignitaries inclined their heads majestically. “We find in favour of the vampire. He cannot be owned. He is not your property.”
Katorakan showed no particular displeasure, only the mildest of irritation. He turned his attention back to Wesley. “I concede the vampire – despite the considerable sum I paid for it – and submit myself to the ruling of this noble court. But as to the human there can be no dispute. It is my property, bought and marked as mine.”
As Gunn took a deep breath, Angel stepped forward. “Stolen goods,” he said flatly.
Katorakan gazed at him in disbelief. “This is absurd. The creature was unbranded.”
“I didn’t need to brand him. He was bound to me by a vow of fealty and a blood oath. Given freely, which in this dimension makes him my property by Demon Law.”
“I don’t believe it,” Katorakan retorted. “If that were so you would have legally removed my brand and yet you have not done so.” He pointed to Wesley and his scored chest.
Gunn said quickly, “We would not presume to tamper with a legal document recognized by so ancient and noble a court as the one in which we now find ourselves. But we do dispute the legality of Katorakan’s claim to ownership. The human known as Wesley had already given a vow of loyalty and fidelity to the vampire known as Angel. We know that this court recognizes the right of a vampire to have full ownership of a human, and that such an owned human cannot be claimed by another unless it is with the vampire’s consent.”
“And for the record,” Angel put in. “I didn’t consent. My consent wasn’t asked and if it had been I wouldn’t have given it. At the time when Katorakan was paying money for Wesley he was already owned by me. So, like I said – stolen goods.”
Glancing across at Giles, Gunn could see the Englishman gritting his teeth over the word ‘owned’ and he was having a little trouble saying it himself, but, on this, Angel was right, this was not the time or the place to start disputing the morality of humans having no rights in an Askorathan demon court. This was the time and the place to hang onto Wesley by any means possible and to debate the ethics of it later.
“Is there a signed document of this ownership?” the first dignitary enquired.
Angel shook his head and Gunn said quickly, “As the defendant was not anticipating leaving this dimension he saw no reason to register an ownership which at that time and on this world was not disputed.”
“Why is Angel the defendant?” Xander murmured. “Isn’t Wesley the guy in the dock…?”
“No,” Giles said tautly. “Wesley has no rights except as something owned by Angel. Think of Margaret Garner, the escaped slave who killed one of her children to prevent her from being returned to slavery when recapture became inevitable, and the case of ‘destruction of property’ brought against her.”
“Does he carry any mark of ownership?” the second dignitary pressed.
“Only the mark erroneously affixed to the disputed human property by Lord Katorakan when he was unaware of the disputed human’s true ownership.”
“I am its true owner,” Katorakan retorted fiercely. “There was nothing erroneous in its branding. It was carried out exactly according to the laws of Askaroth. This vampire’s claim is spurious and false.”
“I really don’t like him,” Buffy observed to Willow.
“I hate this legal mumbo jumbo,” Spike growled. “Why can’t we just kill the slave-owning bastard and be done with it?”
Gunn said rapidly in an undertone: “Katorakan is under the protection of the court. Any move against him will be contempt of court and it could cost Wesley his life.” Turning back to the dignitaries he said, “With all due respect to Lord Katorakan, the vampire’s ownership of the human called Wesley is indisputable under Earth Demon Law. According to Article 9176, an oath of fealty by a lesser being to a demon shall be accepted as binding and cannot be broken except by the consent of that demon – a consent that in this case was clearly not given. The oath was given many years prior to the human’s arrival in your dimension and was ratified by a second oath of fealty, made in blood, as laid down in clause 584 subsection 929 of the Articles of Bondage.”
“‘Articles of Bondage’?” Xander looked across at Spike. “That sounds like so much less fun than you’d expect.”
“What proof is there of this oath of fealty in word or blood, and how can it compare with a legal branding?” Katorakan demanded.
“You have my word as a…demon,” Angel said.
The two dignitaries conferred quietly and then the first looked up. “If this oath is truly binding by the laws of this dimension then it shall prove sufficient to overwrite the claim made by Katorakan. In your world, your laws shall prove the stronger. But there must be proof that such an oath was made.”
“What proof do you need?” Angel enquired.
“The branding of the human is a legal document, signed in the blood of the one who claimed him as a chattel. If in truth this human was already your property then your blood shall be enough to overwrite the signature of Katorakan. If not, then your claim was not properly binding even in your own world and the human shall pass back to Katorakan.”
Gunn said rapidly to Angel: “Your blood should dissolve the brand on Wesley’s chest. If it doesn’t, Katorakan’s claim stands and we have a very bloody probably very futile fight on our hands.”
Looking as though he were not in any doubt as the outcome, Angel picked up a knife from the table, walked over to where Wesley was still sitting and stood over him. The two exchanged a glance and then Angel slashed his palm and held it over Wesley’s chest. There was an endless pause before the first drop of blood splashed down onto Wesley’s skin, and for a terrible second nothing happened. Gunn was mentally working out how best to utilize what assets they had in the inevitable fight when there was a sizzle and Angel’s blood began dissolve the edge of the brand. Angel squeezed his hand so more blood fell, and, where each drop landed, Katorakan’s brand was dissolved and unmarked skin left beneath it.
Angel closed his eyes but gave no other outward sign of his relief, but Gunn had difficulty stopping his knees from sagging. Xander was not exactly wearing his best poker face either, and Willow put her arms around Buffy to hug her. Wesley gazed down at his chest and the vanishing brand as if fascinated by it.
Illyria stepped into the breach. “The court accepts the vampire’s ownership of the human called Wesley? They concur that the vampire had a prior claim and that Katorakan’s branding was unlawful and unbinding?”
The dignitaries consulted for a moment and then gravely inclined their head. “We do. We would suggest that the vampire should affix his own mark to his property so that no further confusion arises as to this human’s bonded state.”
“I paid money for that slave in good faith.” Katorakan was far more hot and bothered than Gunn would have expected. He had barely looked at Wesley; only at the brand on his chest which Angel’s blood had now completely dissolved; yet it seemed to be of an entirely disproportionate importance to him that he should be able to take Wesley back with him.
The second dignitary said gravely: “The court accepts that no wrong doing was intended by Katorakan and that he had no reason to assume the human was already owned. In this we feel the vampire was negligent and has only himself to blame for the confusion.” He looked at Angel directly. “You will see to it that in future all slaves of your possession are properly branded with your mark?”
“Of course.” Angel’s face didn’t so much as flicker whereas Gunn could hear Giles grinding his teeth from twenty feet away.
“Then this court finds in your favour. The slave is yours. Katorakan’s claim is disallowed. If however you come before this court a second time and are proven to be negligent in the correct marking of your property it may be deemed necessary to confiscate your goods. In this instance we accept that you were not attempting to deceive anyone. Next time we may not be so lenient.”
“You don’t understand. I have to have that slave!” Katorakan glared at Wesley.
Illyria put her head on one side, like a bird of prey sighting a rabbit a long way below her. “You are not welcome here. The court will not protect you if you argue with its findings.” She tilted her head the other way, subtly inhuman.
Spike was already twirling an axe in his hands, while Buffy was holding up her sword. As the ground began to rumble once again, Katorakan looked at Wesley again, very obviously weighed up the chances of successfully snatching him, looked from Spike to Buffy to Illyria, snarled and then backed up. “You’ll regret this,” he told him.
“Really doubt it,” Spike retorted.
“The decision of the court is final.” The first dignitary lifted a hand and the rumbling became louder and then the dais, the two dignitaries, and Katorakan disappeared in a cloud of smoke
“That was cool.” Buffy sheathed the sword. “As dramatic mystical exits go anyway.”
Wesley looked up at Angel. “Thank you.”
“Yeah.” Spike tossed the axe down onto the lobby couch and strolled across. “For once, being an arrogant, possessive, megalomaniac control freak actually worked out for someone other than you. Kudos.”
Wesley looked past Angel to Gunn. “And thank you, too.”
“You rocked.” Xander slapped Gunn on the shoulder.
“You are Perry Mason, Petrocelli, and Clarence Darrow rolled into one, my legally enhanced slice of cherry pie.” Lorne reached across to high five Gunn.
Gunn looked at Illyria. “Well, I paid a high enough price for this ability. It’s something to be able to use it for good.”
“You saved my life, Charles.” Wesley gazed at him intently. “If you didn’t have all that demon law in your brain I would be on my way to being very dead right now. And I am truly grateful to you.”
Gunn reached out and for the first time in a long time he and Wesley touched their knuckles together and then shared their old familiar handshake. “You’re welcome, English, just don’t go diving into any more hell dimensions.”
Giles nodded. “Yes. I hate the way we won this one, but I’m glad it was won nevertheless.”
Angel looked at Gunn. “Now what do I need to do to prove to the demon courts of this dimension that Wes is my property?”
Gunn cleared his throat. “Like I said, your…mark has to be mystically burnt into Wesley’s skin.”
“That isn’t an option.” Giles took in Angel’s expression. “You can’t be serious?”
“Of course he isn’t serious,” Xander reassured everyone. “Angel…? You’re not serious, right?”
“Whatever Wesley is or has it’s important to Katorakan. I don’t trust him to leave matters like this. We need some really unanswerable proof that Wesley is my property.”
“But he isn’t your property,” Giles said intently.
Angel glanced at him. “He’s alive because that’s exactly what he is. And I’m keeping him that way.”
“Alive or yours?” Spike enquired.
“Both.”
Spike rolled his eyes. “You are such a drama queen.”
“I keep my people safe.” They all knew that was a lie but no one quite had the heart to contradict it. Certainly, Angel always wanted to keep his people safe even if he didn’t always manage it.
“And enslaved apparently.” Giles met Angel’s eyes. “This is wrong and you know it.”
“I don’t care if it’s wrong or right. I care about keeping Wesley away from Katorakan and I’ll use any means available to do that.”
“Why don’t you just do as Spike suggested and rape him then?” Giles demanded.
Wesley held up a hand. “I’d like to vote against that option.”
“Yes, but your opinion doesn’t count for anything, Wesley,” Giles told him tersely. “Remember you’re just a demon chattel now. Angel will do what is best for you whether you want him to or not.”
Spike also held up a hand. “I was gonna knock Wes out so he wouldn’t be conscious for it. And it’s not like it would be the first time Angel’s done someone when they’re....”
“Shut up, Spike.” Angel turned back to Giles. “Wesley is my responsibility, not yours. I’m older than him and I’m older than you.”
“Daddy knows best, eh?” Spike observed. “Actually I think you’ll find her blue rinseness has the drop on you when it comes to seniority. You going to let her choose who Wesley belongs to on that account?”
“He is not your property,” Giles told him through gritted teeth.
“I’m keeping him safe. And I’m keeping him here.” He turned to Wesley and at once his eyes were kind and anxious. “Wes, we get the binding spell up and running, we cover all the angles; then we work out what the hell Katorakan wanted you for. You don’t need to worry. I’m going to take care of this. I’m going to take care of you.”
“I know.” Wesley looked at him anxiously. “Angel. You don’t need to....”
“Yes, I do.” Angel stroked Wesley’s hair back from his face. “You look tired and you lost more blood. Let me help you upstairs.”
As Wesley obediently stood up and let Angel support him, Gunn said quietly to Giles, “Angel is only trying to....”
“He’s trying my patience, I can tell you that much.”
“He just wants to keep Wesley safe.” But Buffy was also watching Angel’s departure a little anxiously.
Spike shook his head. “The guy has lost it, and I don’t mean somewhere in the immediate vicinity, I mean lost it way way over there somewhere. Not going to be found without a major expedition lost it.”
“He’s worried about Wesley.”
Willow looked pretty worried herself, and Xander put his arm around her shoulders and gave her a hug.
“He’s scary, I grant you, and I’m not sure those two have half a healthy psyche between them, but the point is Wesley is still here and the bad demon guy isn’t, so let’s chalk one up for the good guys and go eat pie.”
***
