Title: Baywatch Angel
Author: Becjane
Posted:
Rating: NC17
Email
Category: Smut
Content: A/C
Summary: PTB vision case file.
Spoilers: AtS3. Vaguely set in season 3, some time after Fredless, although I have changed some canon events.
Disclaimer: The characters in the Angelverse were created by Joss Whedon & David Greenwalt. No infringement is intended, no profit is made.
Distribution:
Notes: I wasn’t going to start posting this until I’d finished the whole story, but I’m completely feedback addicted, and simply can’t leave finished parts of a fic sitting on my computer unposted!
Based on a challenge by Manders-21: I’ll tell you what it is in later parts, as it’s a bit too spoilery to mention now. I kind of broke the rules though - it’s supposed to be a feel-good standalone, but I’ve turned it into a short serial fic with a little bit of angst in it! Oops! Sorry Amanda! The angsty stuff is mainly resolved early on, so it’s basically a feel-good fic. Hope u like.
Thanks/Dedication: Thanks to Cali for wonderful ficpic!
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Part 1
Cordelia Chase set her emery board aside and picked up a small bottle of nail polish. Holding it between her thumb and forefinger, she up-ended it several times to mix up the thick liquid within, then removed the tiny wand and began to paint her fingernails with meticulous precision.
Once she’d applied an even coat of the pink pearlescent lacquer, she returned the brush to the glass container, pursed her lips and blew on her freshly painted nails, coaxing the sticky polish to dry with warm puffs of breath.
She then repeated the whole routine with her other hand, finally waggling her fingers in the air to complete the drying process. That done, she placed her newly manicured hands down on her desk’s wooden surface, and surveyed the outcome of her endeavours with a critical eye.
“Salon perfect if I do say so myself,” she muttered under her breath, immensely pleased with the almost flawless result. Of course, she didn’t know why she was bothering. The next time one of her agonisingly painful visions hit, or some icky demon attacked, then her manicure would be the first casualty – it always was.
Drumming the pads of her fingers on the desktop, the bored seer glanced around the lobby, searching for something else to occupy her mind. Why was she here? It was Sunday; they had no cases - she should be out enjoying herself. It was a bright, sunny day - the perfect weather to visit the beach. Why then had she been drawn to the Hyperion like the proverbial bee to the honey-pot? It made no sense whatsoever.
As Cordelia absently took in her surroundings, it gradually occurred to her that she wasn’t the only one to succumb to the strange gravitation pull of the Hotel – all of her friends appeared similarly afflicted.
Gunn sat cross-legged on the floor, next to the weapons cabinet, polishing the myriad of swords, axes, and crossbows with a soft cloth. Grimacing with effort, he rubbed hard at the tarnished metal implements until they gleamed bright silver and cast dancing beams of refracted light back into the lobby.
Every so often, when a particular weapon caught his fancy, the young black man rose to his feet and play-acted a pretend fight with a make-believe demon. Muttering a running commentary to himself under his breath, he moved agilely about the floor space, trading thrusts and parries with his imaginary adversaries.
Someone seriously needs a girlfriend, Cordelia thought derisively, rolling her eyes at her colleague’s juvenile antics. Maybe I should introduce him to Sarah? she mused, bringing to mind the attractive young woman that she’d recently befriended down at the Gym.
Sarah was athletic, easy-going, and lots of fun - Cordelia reckoned that she and Gunn would be perfect for each other. I’ll call her tomorrow and invite her to lunch, then drag Gunn along with me.
The wheels of her match-making scheme set in motion, the seer’s attention shifted away from the former street kid towards the newest member of the AI team – Winifred Birkle, aka Fred.
Ever since the cathartic visit from her parents, Fred had been slowly coming out of her shell and integrating herself into their little family. She was currently seated on the floor, her back to the circular sofa that stood in the centre of the foyer, and her slim legs stretched out in front of her. Dressed in a pale green cotton sundress, with tiny blue flowers dotted in a haphazard fashion over the thin material, she sat playing with a small hand-held puzzle, her forehead creased in concentration.
The Texan’s hero-worship of Angel had gradually subsided as her confidence grew, and Cordelia had recently caught the gangling brunette gazing doe-eyed at their boss instead - a happenstance that made Wesley’s indecision about asking her out completely pointless. It wasn’t as if Fred was going to say no – the seer was almost certain that the shy young woman would jump at the chance. Cordelia decided it was about time she gave her reserved friend a good hard shove in the right direction.
Turning her gaze away from Fred, she let her thoughtful eyes settle on the reticent Englishman. Wesley sat at the counter, studying a pair of thick dusty tomes, his wire-rimmed glasses perched precariously on the end of his nose. Since their return from Pylea a few months ago, the ex-watcher had slowly undergone an image re-vamp - gone were the smart suits, shiny shoes, and severe hairstyle of yesteryear, and in had come an altogether more rugged look.
Today, he was dressed in a pair of beige slacks, brown leather boots, and a dark grey t-shirt, while his longer hair looked fashionably unkempt. Wesley’s whole demeanour radiated a newly acquired confidence in himself and his abilities to run Angel Investigations.
This self-assurance was a direct result of leading the victorious Palace cue in Pylea, and Cordelia couldn’t decide whether she liked her friend’s transformation or not. On the one hand, she was proud that he had managed to overcome his insecurities enough to settle properly into his role as leader of their little group, but on the other, she missed the clumsy, dorky Wesley too.
Needless to say, the ex-watcher’s newfound confidence did not extend as far as his personal life - his hesitancy with regard to his growing feelings for Fred was strongly reminiscent of his former self. Knowing that there was still some of the old Wesley left inside, made it a whole lot easier for the young seer to accept the subtle changes in her friend.
Cordelia shook her head, not quite sure why the ex-watcher’s personality makeover bothered her so much. Her wandering eyes finally landed on Angel though, and the underlying reason for her disquiet hit her with a lightening bolt of clarity.
The vampire and ex-watcher were the foundation stones of her surrogate family - they, along with Doyle, had been her lifesavers when she had first moved to LA, and she depended on them to be there for her. The recent upheaval that had taken place in their lives had stolen that security blanket away from her, however. Too much was changing, and the seer was petrified that she might have to navigate the emotional minefield of her visions, without her two closest friends by her side.
Cordelia frowned at Angel - the dark-haired vampire was lounging on the sofa, reading a book, his booted feet propped up on the low table in front of him. He looked like he didn’t have a care in the world, and she just didn’t understand how he could be so unaffected by everything that had happened to him in the past few months.
Angel had returned from his grief trip to Tibet, quite literally, a changed man, or more accurately, a changed vampire. In gratitude for ridding their monastery of its demon infestation, the monks had nullified the perfect happiness clause in Angel’s curse, granting him the precious gift of a permanent soul.
The seer understood his apathy about the event at the time – with Buffy dead, it must have seemed like too little, too late. It was a month since the Scooby Gang had brought the twice-deceased slayer back to life however; but, so far, the vampire’s only response had been to call up his ex to see how she was coping.
Buffy was supposed to be the love of his life, and yet Angel showed no visible sign of wanting to renew his relationship with her, an unexplainable state of affairs that puzzled Cordelia immensely. She was nervous to broach the issue with him though, worried that his reason for staying might be due to her and the mind splitting visions from the Powers That Be.
The seer knew that if that turned out to be the case, she would urge him to take this chance to be happy, even though, in truth, all she really wanted to do was to cling on to him like a limpet, and never ever let go. Therefore, fully expecting Angel to pack his bags and leave at some point, she held her peace on the subject, wanting to put off that inevitable occurrence for as long as possible.
As if sensing her eyes on him, the vampire looked up from his novel and flashed her a quick grin, his deep brown eyes sparkling with friendly affection. Her answering smile was weak and rather watery, and Angel’s broad brow furrowed with slight alarm, making the seer’s heart jump in anxiety.
Folding over the corner of the page to mark his place, the vampire rose to his feet and walked across the room towards her. Cordelia flustered a little as he approached, and - in a last-ditch attempt to evade the conversation she’d been trying to avoid for several weeks - desperately tried to come up with a plausible reason for her upset.
“Cordy…” Angel began, his deep voice laced with concern.
“Look Angel, I…” Cordelia quickly interrupted, and then stopped as she felt a familiar tightening between her eyes. Reaching up, she pinched the bridge of her nose between her thumb and her forefinger, just as the approaching vision hit with a vengeance.
“Cordy!”
Angel leapt forward with lightening speed, catching his seer as her flailing body toppled her chair over backwards. Wrapping one arm around her upper back, he shoved the offending piece of furniture to one side, and sank down to the floor with her. While her body jerked like a puppet on a string, he was powerless to do anything but cradle her within the circle of his arms, watching helplessly as the painful image flashes assailed her mind.
The seer’s screams of agony reverberated around the hotel lobby, bringing the rest of their friends running – Gunn dropped the sword he was polishing with a clatter; Fred rushed over, wringing her hands in agitated concern; and Wesley knocked over his stool in his haste to get to his stricken friend’s side.
Cordelia eventually calmed, but turned her face into the vampire’s chest and began to sob, clutching desperately at his shirt with one hand, still lost in the all-consuming agony of her vision.
Angel gathered her closer, and stroked his fingers through her silky hair, bending to murmur nonsensical words of comfort in her ear. “Ssh baby, it’s okay. It’s all over now.”
Fleetingly lifting his head, he focused his worried gaze on Fred, “Can you…?” the vampire left his question hanging, but the pretty brunette quickly cottoned on to what he meant.
“Pills!” she exclaimed, rising to her feet. “I’ll go and get them and a glass of water too. You think she’d like some ice? No, no, of course not – duh! – freezing cold, headaches, don’t mix.”
The young Texan scurried away, still muttering to herself, and Angel returned his attention to the weeping woman in his arms. He rubbed his hand soothingly up and down her back, and sighed in relief as she began to relax, the tremors assaulting her body gradually lessening in their intensity.
Although she was no longer dying from their effects, the pain Cordelia went through because of the visions never got any easier to watch. Hooking one arm under her shoulders, and the other under her knees, the troubled vampire rose to his feet and carried his precious cargo over to the couch, casting his mind back to a few weeks earlier…
“Angel?”
Cordelia’s voice was weak and faint, and the vampire turned back towards the bed at the sound of it, “Yes?”
“I…” the seer swallowed and worried at her bottom lip with her teeth. She gazed apprehensively up at him, her liquid brown eyes swimming with unshed tears.
Angel perched on the mattress next to her hip, reached out a hand to tuck her dark hair behind her ear, and then gently cupped the side of her face in his palm. Stroking his thumb over her cheek, he was glad to find her skin smooth and unblemished; the horrific boils and burns, courtesy of Lilah Morgan, thankfully gone for good.
“Tell me,” he urged, his voice low and vibrating with deeply held affection.
“There’s something I should tell you,” she whispered brokenly. “I… the visions… I’m dying, Angel.”
“No,” the vampire shook his head, refusing to hear her heart-rending words. “I fixed it, baby. These latest visions, they were from Wolfram and Hart, not the Powers, that’s why they were so bad. I fixed it, I did.”
“No Angel, you didn’t, I’m so sorry. I’ve been to the hospital, had tests, there’s nothing that can be done. Every time I have a vision, more of my brain is damaged – one day I’ll lapse into a coma and I won’t ever wake up.”
“No!” Angel repeated, tears streaking unchecked down his pale cheeks. “Listen to me – we’ll find a way to fix it, we will. Wes will know what to do.”
“Angel!”
The vampire barely heard her calling after him as he escaped into the living room. “Where’s Wes?” he demanded of Gunn, who was seated in an armchair, his crossbow resting across his knees.
“Umm – I think he and Fred went back to the Hotel. What’s up man?”
“Take care of her,” Angel curtly instructed, gesturing towards the bedroom as he grabbed his jacket and headed for the front door.
Fear ran like ice water through his veins as he took the stairs two at a time. He couldn’t lose her, he couldn’t; Cordy was everything – his confidante and his best friend. He loved her more than he ever thought possible, she completely owned his heart, he just hadn’t been aware of that truth until now…
Back in the present, Angel settled Cordelia on the couch, holding her hand in both of his as she gradually regained her senses after the disorientating effect of the vision.
Luckily, Wesley had found a way to fix it, locating a mystical healer who had been able to cure her. The strange man had cast an enchantment to repair the damage to the seer’s brain, and then made her drink a potion, which he claimed would give her life-long immunity to the vision’s harmful effects. So far, all subsequent tests had come back clear, and the hospital was currently investigating a possible malfunction of their MRI equipment.
The price had been high though – his shanshu - his life for hers. Angel had paid it without hesitation, Cordelia was more important, and it didn’t seem to matter now that his soul was permanent. The seer was not aware of what he had sacrificed for her however - Wesley was the only one privy to that information.
What's more, the vampire still hadn’t found a way to confess his newly discovered feelings for her; the right opportunity just hadn’t presented itself. So much had happened since that night - first, there had been Buffy’s surprise resurrection, then Fred’s mini-breakdown to contend with, and now, to cap it all, his seer’s unexplainable avoidance of him had thrown another spanner in the works. To say Angel was getting seriously frustrated with the whole situation was a severe understatement.
“Thanks.” Cordelia’s soft voice brought the vampire back out of his reverie, and he returned his focus to the matter at hand.
“What did you see?” he asked softly, tenderly brushing several stray strands of her dark hair off her face.
Cordelia swallowed her painkiller with a big gulp of water from the glass that Fred had handed to her, and then closed her eyes, trying to gather her thoughts enough to answer Angel’s diffident question. “Umm, I’m not sure. It was at a swimming pool and it was as if the water was devouring people. You know like in ‘The Abyss.’ I don’t know for certain where the pool is, but I get the feeling it’s not too far away.”
She opened her eyes and looked at her friends apologetically. “Sorry guys, that’s all I’ve got.”
“Don’t worry,” Wesley said, patting her arm in reassurance. “We’ll start by checking to see if there have been any reports of unexplainable deaths at local swimming baths. If we don’t find anything, then we’ll check out all the pools within a ten mile radius of here – there can’t be that many to choose from.”
Cordelia nodded, and then started to get to her feet. “Okay, I’ll log on to…”
“You need to rest,” Angel said, catching her arm to prevent her from rising.
“Angel, I’m fine. Not waiting-for-my-head-to-explode girl any longer, remember?”
The vampire winced at his seer’s characteristically blunt assessment of her prior predicament. “You still need to rest,” he reiterated, his tone insistent.
“Geez! Mollycoddle much?”
“It only takes one person to look on the internet for information,” Wesley said, quickly interceding to derail the brewing battle of wills between his two friends. “I’m sure that Fred is more than capable of doing that.”
“I’m not an invalid, Wes.”
“I know,” the ex-watcher replied calmly. “But your visions are no walk in the park either. Besides, staring at a computer screen is hardly the best way to relieve a headache. Wouldn’t you like to take a few minutes to recuperate a little?”
Given the staccato drumbeat currently reverberated around her head, the seer would be lying if she answered in the negative. “All right,” she agreed sullenly.
“But I’m not going to lie down,” she added, throwing a defiant glance at the overly concerned vampire seated beside her.
Reluctantly desisting to the warning look Wesley threw in his direction; Angel kept his mouth shut and resisted the urge to forcibly insist that the obstinate young brunette took some bed-rest. He knew he overcompensated and cosseted her when a vision hit, but the sight of her pain just ate away at the burning sense of responsibility inside of him. Everything she’d been through, it was because of him, because he needed a link to the Powers At Be to fulfil his destiny and gain his hard-won redemption.
Satisfied that the potentially explosive situation had been defused, Wesley got to his feet. “Okay, let’s get to work,” he said, striding confidently across the Lobby towards his office.
Responding to his commanding tone and determined expression, Fred and Gunn immediately followed in his wake, abandoning their earlier recreational activities and switching effortlessly into research and destroy mode.
Cordelia tipped her head back against the sofa and closed her eyes with a deep sigh, trying to calm the turmoil in her brain and ignore the churning nausea in her stomach. Cool fingers stroked gently over her pale cheek, and she opened her eyes to look at their owner with a weary smile.
“I worry about you.” Angel’s voice was gruff with suppressed emotion, his deep brown eyes heavy with guilt.
“I know,” the seer replied softly, her earlier irritation with him vanishing in the face of his tender caring. “I’m okay though – it hurts like holy frickin’ hell, but it’s not like before. I can handle it.”
“You shouldn’t have to.”
“It’s a gift – a mind-splitting, frequently vomit-inducing gift – but a gift all the same. Helping the helpless, helping *you,* it gives my life purpose, real meaning. I lived a shallow existence for a long time, Angel; there is no way I would ever go back to that, not now.”
Angel curled his hand around her fingers and raised their joined hands to his mouth, brushing a whisper of a kiss across the backs of her knuckles. “You never cease to amaze me, Cordelia Chase,” he told her, his eyes holding hers captive as he spoke.
“Get some rest,” he added, releasing her hand and unfurling his tall, sinewy body from the sofa cushions.
Wide-eyed and confused, Cordelia watched the vampire walk away, her heart racing at the depth of emotion that she’d seen swirling in his chocolate brown orbs, her skin tingling from the touch of his soft lips against her flesh.
What did it mean? He couldn’t possibly be in love with her…
Could he?
Part 2
The heavy mahogany doors swung inwards on their sturdy brass hinges, permitting the entrance of two resolute men. Two men with an invisible thread of combined purpose between them, two men so familiar with the subtle nuances of each other’s work ethic, that they slotted together to form a seamless team.
“It was there, Wes – I could feel it,” Angel was saying to his friend. “Lurking, waiting for… something.”
Wesley nodded, trusting the vampire’s ability to sense the presence of another demon in the vicinity.
“I think we need to do some research into what kind of demon we might be facing, work up a MO, and a battle profile,” he decided. “And we ought to keep the pool under surveillance during opening hours. That means finding an excuse for being there without rousing suspicion.”
“Already on that, guys,” Cordelia chipped in from behind them, as the Angel Investigations team descended as one into the Hyperion Lobby.
A healthy glow had returned to the seer’s cheeks in the intervening hours since her vision. While her cure had not stopped the initial agony of her premonitions, it had mostly eliminated the ghastly after-effects. Consequently, as she circled round to stand in front of her friends, her hazel eyes were filled with the same purpose that imbued them, rather than the habitual dark, lingering pain of a vision headache.
“Ta-da!” she said, brandishing the piece of paper that she held in her hands, enormously pleased with herself for coming up with the solution to their stakeout problem.
Angel and Wesley exchanged a look of consternation, as they viewed the advertisement that Cordelia had discreetly pilfered from the pool’s notice board:
LIFEGUARD WANTED
APPLY WITHIN
Wesley cleared his throat. “Err, Cordelia – I don’t think that any of us quite…” he trailed off and glanced over at Gunn.
“Hey, don’t look at me, buddy,” Gunn said, holding up his hands to ward off any suggestion that he take the assignment. “Have you seen what those guys have to wear? I ain’t squeezing my package into no tiny pair of Lycra Speedos. No frickin’ way, José!”
“Besides, I don’t swim,” he lied.
“Relax bubba – I didn’t mean you,” Cordelia said, rolling her eyes at the young man’s frantic attempts at avoidance. “I meant Angel.”
“What?! Me?” the vampire sputtered nervously, involuntarily taking a couple of steps backwards. “No, no way, I can’t.”
“You can swim, can’t ya?”
“Well yes, but…”
“And you’re big with the saving people, being all hero-y and all.”
“..”
“And you’ve *definitely* got that manly boob muscle thing going on - especially since you’ve been doing all that training. What’s with that anyway?” she asked curiously.
“You said I was fat,” Angel told his seer the truth without thinking, then shook his head. “It’s not going to work, Cordy.”
“Why not?”
“There is the *slight* hitch that the pool area is wall-to-wall with glass windows,” Wesley helpfully pointed out.
“Oh,” Cordelia said - she’d not though of that. A beat and then, “We could tell them he’s photosensitive and get them to put up black drapes!”
The seer’s bright suggestion was greeted with a telling silence from her three male companions.
“Or maybe not,” she conceded.
“Necro-tempered glass!”
“Come again?” Wesley asked, swinging round at the excited outburst from their newest recruit.
“Sorry – just thinking out aloud. You know what it’s like when you have all these thoughts whirling about inside your brain and suddenly one leaps out and says ‘hey, look at me’ cus you know it’s the solution to your problem and…”
“Fred!”
“Oh right – I’m doing the babbling thing again, aren’t I?” the young Texan apologised, briefly pausing for a much-needed breath before continuing with her convoluted explanation. “Necro-tempered glass – it filters out the UVA rays of the sun. Apparently, those are the ones that make vampires go ‘poof.’ So if we…”
“Fit it into the windows at the pool, Angel won’t be turned into a big ole pile of dust,” Cordelia said, triumphantly finishing off the sentence for her.
“Exactly.”
“All right, so why haven’t I heard of it before?” Wesley asked.
“Probably because it’s new research - only published a week ago.”
“Show me,” he instructed, ushering the pretty brunette over to the computer, a guiding hand in the small of her back.
Fred sat down at the desk and quickly pulled up the relevant article, her dainty fingers flying over the keyboard in a blur of movement. Her eyes skimmed over the report again, stopping at the acknowledgements at the bottom. “Oh - I didn’t notice that before.”
“What?” Wesley asked, leaning over her shoulder to read what she was indicating. “Research funded by Wolfram and Hart.”
“Kind of figures,” Angel shrugged, unsurprised by the information.
“Yes, but it means we’ll struggle to get our hands on what we need. Wolfram and Hart probably own all the suppliers.”
“Ah well,” the vampire said in an offhand manner, more than a little relieved at the turn of events. “I guess we’ll just have to come up with another way of keeping an eye on things at the pool.”
“Umm,” Fred said diffidently, timidly raising her hand. “Why do we have to buy some? Couldn’t we just transmute the glass already there?”
“Transmu-whatta?” Gunn asked, mystified.
“Transmutation – to change the form or nature of something,” Wesley absently recited the English Dictionary definition of the word.
“Oh, you mean like that dude who turned everything to gold with his touch.”
“Midas? Sort of yes - the Greek God of Wine, Dionysus, enchanted him though. Other forms of transmutation are purported to be practised by white witches. They use it so they don’t have to search high and low for every ingredient for their spells - or so I’m told anyway.”
“Is Willow a white witch?” Cordelia asked.
“I imagine she qualifies, yes,” Wesley replied. “Would you happen to have a contact number for her?”
“It *happens* I might have,” the seer replied, playfully mimicking the ex-watcher’s rather stilted way of speech.
She fished in her bag for her address book, and then scribbled the relevant Sunnydale number down on a yellow post-it note for him.
“Thanks,” Wesley said, taking it from her. “Good work, Fred,” he commended the young woman, patting her lightly on the shoulder as he passed by her chair.
Fred lit up like a belisha beacon at the praise, a slow smile creeping across her pretty features and the apples of her cheeks flushing pink with bashful self-consciousness. She lifted her head to gaze appreciatively up at her boss, her brown eyes big and puppy-dog round. Wesley returned her shy smile with one of his own, and then turned and retreated into his office to call Willow.
Cordelia cast a sidelong glance at Gunn and caught him observing the little exchange with interest, a knowing look hovering over his handsome features. He caught her eye and winked, then turned to clap Angel on the shoulder, his face splitting into a wide impudent grin as he did so.
“Looks like you’re on stake-out duty, man. Rather you than me on this one, I can tell you.”
“I don’t see why you’re so anti,” Cordelia cut in. “Think of all those bikini-clad hotties you’d get to ogle.”
Now why did I mention that? Angel sure better keep his eyes to himself if he knows what’s good for him. I catch him eyeing up some skanky blonde and…
“Tempting, but no - I ain’t into publicly displaying my pecs for the ladies.” Gunn’s relaxed drawl interrupted the seer’s train of jealous thought. “Gotta maintain that man of mystery image, you know?”
“Oh, of course,” Cordelia replied, with a sardonic nod of her head and a glimmer of a smile.
She then turned and thrust the job advertisement out at Angel, “You’d better call and get yourself an interview.”
The vampire glanced at his watch, “It’s ten pm.”
“So – the pool only closed half an hour ago, I bet there’s still a manager around. Go on, it’ll make a great first impression.”
“Just don’t tell them you broke into the premises fifteen minutes ago,” Gunn put in with a grin. “I don’t think that’d go down so well with ya new boss.”
Grumbling to himself under his breath, Angel went over to the counter and dialled the number at the bottom of the piece of paper, his broad forehead creased into a distinctly sulky frown.
“Don’t think the vamp-man’s too happy about stepping into David Hasslehoff’s shorts.” Gunn commented wryly to Cordelia, tongue firmly placed in cheek.
“Too bad, he’ll just have to get over it,” the seer replied unsympathetically. “He’s the PTB’s chosen champion. Sometimes, that means going above and beyond the call of duty for the good of mankind.”
A few minutes later, Angel replaced the receiver in its cradle with a clatter, just as Wesley exited his office and rejoined them in the Lobby, a small note-pad clutched tightly in his right hand.
“I’ve got an interview at seven pm tomorrow,” the vampire announced.
“Good – that’ll give us just enough time to do some research and gather what we need for the transmutation spell.”
“It also leaves the pool and its patrons unprotected for another day,” Angel pointed out gravely.
“Actually, I think that might be all right,” Wesley said. “A couple of months ago, the media reported three drownings at that pool, each occurring exactly four days apart. There’s been nothing since then, but I imagine that’s because they started to cover it up. The regularity of the earlier killings does suggest a pattern though. You said you thought this thing was waiting for something?”
“Yeah.”
“Maybe it goes through a four-day feeding cycle,” the ex-watcher postulated, “Only attacking when it needs to nourish itself. Did you get any feeling as to when the last attack occurred?”
“Not too long ago,” the vampire replied. “You could still smell the fear and violence in the air.”
“So we’re probably okay for another day then.”
“It’s a slim theory, Wes.”
“I know, but there really isn’t anything else we can do right now. We just have to hope that I’m right.”
* * * * *
The Following Morning…
“Morning, big guy. Is that coffee I smell?”
“Yeah, I just put on a fresh pot,” Angel replied, looking up as his seer gracefully descended the stairs into the Lobby. “There are donuts as well – Fred went out to the bakery a couple of hours ago.”
While the vampire’s eyes avidly followed her every move, Cordelia poured herself some coffee and selected a sugary ring donut from the pink cardboard box on the counter. Like all his friends, the seer had stayed over at the Hyperion last night, but unlike the others, she had slept eight hours straight. Angel had noticed that she had a tendency to do that after a vision nowadays. At first, it had concerned him until Wesley pointed out that it was probably due to the mystical elixir she’d been given to eliminate the harmful effects of her visions.
“The human body rejuvenates itself during sleep, Angel,” the ex-watcher had explained to the worried vampire. “I imagine the potion keeps her in a state of slumber while it repairs her damaged brain cells.”
“So, where is everyone?” Cordelia asked, crossing the room towards him, mug of coffee and donut in hand.
“They went out to get supplies for the transmutation spell, I think.”
The seer sat down on the circular sofa opposite him, and folded her legs up underneath her. “You know, you *have* to be the most sun-worshipping vamp ever!” she commented.
“Huh?”
“I mean, what with the Gem of Amarra, that Moaning demon turning you human once, Pylea and now this – you’re Baywatch Vamp.”
“Moira Demon,” the vampire corrected absently. “I guess I am at that,” he added with a soft smile.
“Well – yeah! Maybe we can do the transmutant thingy on the windows here at the Hotel, then you can…”
“No, Cordelia.”
“Why not?”
“For the same reason, I smashed the Gem of Amarra. I don’t want to forget who I was, the motivation for my mission. If I could walk in the daylight, I might start to overlook the innocents who are lost in the night.”
“Is that why you’ve not…,” Cordelia stopped and looked down at her hands, taking a deep breath and preparing herself to broach the subject she dreaded. “Why you’ve not gone back to Buffy now your soul’s permanent? You’re afraid that being free to love her could tempt you into abandoning your fight for redemption.”
“No, Cordy, I…”
“Cus that’s kind of dumb, you know,” she rushed on, not giving him the chance to speak. “You’re just not the kind of guy who jumps ship like that. And if this is because of me, because you feel a duty to remain by my side cus of the visions…”
“It’s not a duty, Cor.”
“Whatever,” the seer brushed that off with an airy wave of her hand. “I would come with you, you know – to Sunnydale, that is.”
“You’d hate that.”
“Maybe, but I’d still do it – for the mission; for you - if being with her made you happy. At the end of the day, the helpless are not just confined to the streets of LA; they exist wherever in the world you go.”
“Cordy – listen to me.” Angel sat up straighter and reached forward to take her hands in his. “There’s nowhere else I want to…”
“You’re really kind of pale, you know.”
“What?” the vampire snapped sharply, irritated at yet another interruption.
Cordelia was intently studying their joined hands, comparing their contrasting skin tones, a troubled look on her beautiful face.
“A lifeguard is supposed to be Mr Bronzed-And-Supremely-Muscular. You’ve got the supremely muscular part down, but the bronzed part…” she trailed off and shook her head in dismay. “You’re never gonna pull it off.”
“Not much I can do about that - the pallid complexion kind of goes with the territory, what with the whole going out in the sun and bursting into flames thing. And it’s not as if I can buy a tan in bottle, now is it?”
Cordelia’s face lit up so brightly when the idea struck her, that Angel could almost see the light bulb in captions above her head. “That’s it!”
“What’s it?”
“A tan in a bottle!”
The seer excitedly set her breakfast aside, and then scrambled to her feet. Crossing to stand in front of the bemused vampire, she placed her sandaled foot on his muscular thigh and pulled back her cotton skirt, exposing the entire length of her long, slim leg to his perusal.
“Look - See?” she said, pointing at her inner thigh with her forefinger.
Angel’s bodily response to the sight of all that golden flesh on display was instantaneous, and he swiftly dropped both hands into his lap to cover his groin’s rather visible reaction. Swallowing hard and clearing his throat, he blinked owlishly, unable to drag his eyes away from the small mole decorating the dimple on the inside of her knee. “Err – see what?”
“My skin – the colour, you dumbass!”
“Sun-kissed honey,” Angel murmured abstractedly, his tone rich and thick like molasses. Absently lifting his hand, he lightly twirled the pad of his forefinger over the soft skin of her inner thigh.
Cordelia let out a small gasp as the vampire’s cool touch raised goose bumps on her flesh. Her cheeks flushing with embarrassment, she abruptly removed her foot from his thigh and smoothed her skirt down, forcibly tamping down the hot, clenching arousal that had unexpectedly been stirred within her.
“Exactly,” she said, once she’d regained her composure. “And when do you think this skin gets time to be kissed? Never - brain churning visions, ugly ass demon attacks, not to mention unseemly working hours - all that doesn’t give a girl much time for the finer things in life.”
“So how?”
“It’s fake. Shelley’s tanning salon down the street is the best around. Lorne pointed me in her direction ages ago. She works a little bit of magic mojo after the conventional St Tropez treatment, and it’s well nigh impossible to tell the difference from the real thing.”
“St Tropez treatment?”
“It’s a cream – it causes the same reaction in your skin that being exposed to the sun does, just without having to sit out in all those cancer-inducing rays for hours. All the stars are having it done nowadays. It’s voila – instant tan.”
Cordelia paused and reached out her hand towards him. “Let’s go.”
“Go where?”
“To Shelley’s, dork-face. You need to get a patch test done. We have to make sure that you won’t burn to a crisp before you go for the full-body treatment.”
“Full body what?!”
“Come on, get yer butt moving,” the seer ordered in a peremptory tone, completely ignoring the vampire’s scandalized protest.
Against his better judgment, Angel stood up and reluctantly offered Cordelia his car-keys, reaching for the thick woollen blanket draped over the sofa back. Eagerly snatching the keys from him, the seer twirled round with a barely suppressed squeal of delight, and practically skipped towards the Hyperion’s front entrance.
“This is going to be so cool!”
Muttering darkly to himself, the vampire wrapped the large blanket around his shoulders and head to protect himself from the sun’s rays, and then grudgingly followed the inappropriately enthusiastic young woman out to the car.
Part 3