Go TeamC/A

Cursed. Author: Chelle Posted: Email: None Rating: NC-17 for violence, language, and a little sex Content: C/A Category: . Summary: Angel has been back from Hell for a while and it is Halloween Spoilers: BtVS S3 Disclaimer: Whedon & David Greenwalt. No infringement is intended, no profit is made. Distribution: Notes: Okay, haven't done this for a while and used no beta. I'm sure there are a mountain of mistakes but hey...Enjoy. Thanks/Dedication: This story was created in response to a prompt submitted by Starlet2367. The prompt: (BtVS years) A haunted house, Willy's, Cordy driving Angel's car Thanks Starlet2367! Feedback: Sure. Cordelia Chase stared at the Bunny costume hanging on the door of her antique armoire in her massive bedroom. Automatically the fashion hemisphere of her brain did a mental check. Had anyone worn such a costume in the last couple of years? After a quick scan and catalogue of her near perfect memory of every outfit ever worn by anyone she’d ever known, she came across another bunny costume. Willow Rosenberg. She had worn one two years ago. Chewing on her bottom lip, Cordelia eyed the outfit, pondering a change. No. She would go with the Bunny. It was the best choice for the night and it wouldn’t be as if she were exactly repeating a costume Willow had worn before. After all, Willow’s costume had been made of some kind of synthetic fluffatude: complete with sewn in zipper, slippered feet, and floppy ears. The only thing made of fluff on Cordelia’s was the little white tail meant to pin on her backside. Plus, it was perfect for tonight. Not because of it’s deep crimson satin or the way it hiked up high on her hips. Not because its tight fit and low cut neckline made her a full cup size bigger. What made it perfect was that it was simply the vainest most self-absorbed costume that she owned; therefore, her sturdiest suit of armor. And tonight she needed that armor more than ever. Oh she had other armor along with a whole stash of weapons. Shields made of Gucci, Versace. Swords in the form of a quick quip, jabs at others to make her appear totally shallow, heartless. But those were her everyday assortment. And they certainly served their purpose to fight her everyday battle. Convincing the world that a self-absorbed, shallow, self-proclaimed queen could never be deep enough to know what really went on in the world. Could never see beyond her manicured nails and her daddy’s credit card. But she could see. More than they knew. Buffy and her friends - even Giles - had no idea what she could see. They thought they knew evil because they knew about demons and vampires. Pfft! She’d known about them forever. They were the easiest ones to spot. So corporal that she could almost choke on the darkness that radiated from them, making it all the more difficult to act as if she was oblivious to their existence. Granted, they were evil, but just like everything else in life, evil had its levels. Vampires and the demons that had run amuck in Sunnydale for ages were not the only evil in the world. There were others that walked among humans unseen, forgotten. The Ancient Ones. Waiting, watching for a chance to break some veil that seemed to separate them from the real world. Luckily the “real world” couldn’t see them, couldn’t sense them. And in that lay all human safety. For it seemed that those who could not see them or sense them, could also not be touched by them, hurt by them, forced to do their bidding in order to bring them back into the world. “Never let the Ancient Ones know you see them,” Cordelia’s great-grandmother had whispered to her long ago, just before her death. “And never tell another human about it. Most would never believe you and the one‘s that do believe are never to be trusted. There are human monsters too, Cordelia.“ Cordelia had been only seven years old when her Great-Gram had set her on her path, helped her define who she would have to be. “It is how I’ve survived so long. The monsters are looking for us, dear. Those of us that can see. Those of us that know things we should not know. We are their only way back. I had hoped the cursed gift would die with me. Your grandmother nor your mother ever showed any signs of sensing them. But you, my dear, are like me and my mother before me. And you must do what we have done. Close yourself off, hide your open soul and questioning mind. They can sense those with deeper thoughts, farther vision. Shut off your senses as best you can and simply……..pretend. Pretend they are not there, pretend you don’t see them, pretend you are not what you are.” That night Great-Gram had passed away. Great-Gram’s pretend life had ended, and Cordelia’s had began. It was the first night of Cordelia’s “pretend” life. The first night that Cordelia didn’t call out to her mother and father. The first night that she didn’t cry because “there might monster in the closet, or one pacing outside her window” during one of their many searches for one of her kind. Whatever “her kind“ was.. Somehow, even at seven years old, she knew that what Great-Gram had told her to do would protect her, and all those she loved. So, she had kissed her parents and said goodnight. Pretending to fall fast asleep, pretending not to hear the scrape of claws on her window screen, pretending the floor boards weren’t creaking under heavy hoofed feet, pretending she wasn’t the one they were searching for. Taking the costume from the wooden hanger, Cordelia forced her mind away from the past. Tonight the Ancient Ones, as her Great-Gram had called them, would be out in full force, they always were on Halloween. Her parents had taken yet another one of their weekend vacations and conveniently not taken her along and there was no way in hell she would be alone with so many out. Nope, tonight especially she had to appear as just one of the human herd. A silly, shallow, vain, teen out for a night of fun. Not a terrified freak cowering in her room. **** Angel was feeling on edge. Guess that happened after you spent what seemed like a hundred years in hell only to be brought back, insane, and trying hard to pretend that everything was normal. Well, as normal as things could get in his existence. Angel had parked his car a few blocks away from his destination, opting to walk the rest of the way, watching as human children dressed in their worst nightmares or as their favorite cartoon character began to fill the sidewalks of Sunnydale. He puzzled over how such a night had become more about plastic masks and Hershey bars than about its true purpose. Now the once sacred holiday consisted of Frat parties, innocent faces on a sugar high, and marathons of bad B movies playing all month on television. It was ironic that the evils that preyed on humans three-hundred-sixty-four days out of the year usually took the one night off that humans actually wanted to be terrified. Reveled in the adrenaline thrill that being frightened gave them. Angel crossed the street, sidestepping two adolescent boys with silicone blood and gore glued to their faces. The boys jumped back into his view and roared at him, giving him their scariest pose. Angel stood still in front of them, staring at them as if they were insane then morphing his face, giving them a roar of his own. “Holy Shit!” One of the boys yelled as they ran away, laughing. “Did you see his mask! That was sooo cool!” Angel shook his head as he morphed back and continued walking, trying not to let the smile in his mind slip down to his face. He couldn’t even scare humans tonight. He guessed it was because none of them truly knew what scary was. None had ever faced real evil. Even Buffy and her pack of followers didn’t know genuine evil in its purest form. Oh Giles had volumes on every demon they would probably see in this realm. But Angel had seen things that no human would probably ever see. He’d been to Hell and back - literally - and what he had faced there at the border of Hell had been unlike anything he had ever felt or seen. Even Angelus was a lightweight compared to the Ancient Ones. Looking around at the squealing kids that dotted the dark sidewalks, Angel wondered how they would feel if they knew what he knew. Knew that Hell wasn’t a deep cavernous steam bath beneath the Earth, or a psychological state of the human brain. Hell was real and tangible. And Sunnydale wasn’t just at the Hellmouth, it was the Hellmouth. And not any simple Hellmouth either. It was The Gateway to the worst dimension of Hell. The Hell reserved solely for demons.. The Border of the demon Hell was smack down right on top of the little unsuspecting town. A thin invisible veil the only thing separating the border patrolled by the Ancient Ones and the bustling streets of Sunnydale. It was part of the torture and torment of Hell. Being pulled into the abyss while still able to see the world you could no longer touch, be a part of, trying to escape, the Ancient Ones always on your heals, eager to bestow unimaginable agony and suffering. They were the guardians between the realms. The jailers who were as much a prisoner as any other thing in that dimension. But they were able to walk the line that separated the two worlds. Always searching for a way out of their service. Angel had lasted longer than most on that border, destroying two Ancient Ones before finally being over powered by them, entering into a world that had almost cost him his sanity and his soul. It had been beyond his darkest imagination, the few months that had felt to him as if a hundred years. But if he had to choose he knew he would do it again in an instant. Because, although he had not admitted it to anyone, he had actually gotten something from his time there. Or more accurately, left something behind. The fact that he hadn’t told Buffy about the loss of Angelus in Hell flooded him with guilt. He should have told her. Let her know that Angelus was no longer a threat to humanity. But he was a coward. Avoiding the inevitable. Because the moment he told her that Angelus was gone she would want to pick things up where they had left them. And he would have to talk to her about his feelings. Or lack there of. Sure, he cared for her. But after their night together it wasn’t what he wanted, what he thought it had been or would be. He had been so obsessed with her after he first saw her through her parent’s window. Whistler had given him hope, telling him that helping the Slayer would make him worth something again. And so, to him, Buffy had represented the world of good. The world he had never been accepted into, even as a mortal man. He supposed now that he looked at it from a little distance that he had wanted her acceptance - body and soul. As if Buffy accepting him into her heart, into her body, was some sort of redemption. A symbol of acceptance and forgiveness for Angelus’ atrocities and Liam’s life as a rogue. But their night together had left him wanting. Sure it had been sweet and comforting, but somehow he had expected …..fireworks?….all consuming passion? Instead, being with Buffy had made him feel frustrated and a little guilty. Sure the few seconds of bliss that every man experiences at the moment of climax had made way for Angelus, but that was just a trigger that had sent him out, not an indication of Angel’s true feelings. He wanted something….more. Deeper. Stronger. He supposed he was reaching. Trying to grasp something he didn’t deserve or that possibly didn’t even exist. The only time he had even glimpsed that something had been a couple of years ago, sitting in that stupid teen bar at a little round table talking to Cordelia Chase. She had been so fascinating that night, switching from playful frivolous banter to deep thought in one sentence. Flashing a smile that he had never seen on her face before - or since for that matter. He had always found her attractive. He supposed his body reacted to her just as any other man’s would. But that night, there had been something about her, about being there with her that made him want more. But when Buffy had shown up, quickly leaving after seeing Cordelia, things had changed. He had gone back to the table, not wanting to end his night with Cordelia, assuring himself he would check on Buffy later. He had approached the table, intent on continuing their conversation, maybe even taking a walk. But as he approached the table, a different Cordelia greeted him. All practiced flirtation and big plastic smiles. He had been so disappointed and marked it up to his extreme physical attraction to her. He must have wanted there to be something more there so badly that he had convinced himself she was deeper than the shallow pool she swam in. Or maybe it had been Angelus. Maybe Angelus had wanted her so badly that he had played with Angel’s mind, his emotions. He had often tried little tricks on Angel when he had been in residence. Creeping into Angel’s thoughts, feeding his fears. Angelus would have known what thoughts Angel had of Cordelia that night. How much he had wanted her. Tearing his mind away from dark thoughts, Angel finally spotted the large brick house on the corner, draped with cotton cobwebs and screaming with a sound system of scary noises from all the windows. He cringed. Spending a Halloween night at the Sunnydale High School PTO Fifth Annual Haunted House was the last thing he wanted to do. But he needed to see Buffy. Needed to tell her the truth. Maybe he could get her alone long enough to talk to her, explain things a bit. He only hoped that she would take it well, would still allow him to help. Because, in a way, following her to Sunnydale had been a step to redemption, putting meaning into his existence. It just hadn’t been the girl that had redeemed him, it had been the act of helping, of doing good. And now that he had tasted that satisfaction, knew that he could help, he didn’t want to stop. Bracing himself, he pushed open the door of the large home, entering the massive living room where the pre-party was taking place. Angel spotted Buffy in an instant in the crowded room and watched her for a moment before approaching. Xander Harris was leaning close to her ear, obviously trying to speak above the noise of bad teen mood music, and Buffy was smiling. A thought suddenly occurred to Angel. How many times had he himself made her smile? Once, maybe. But here was a perfect picture of what she should be. Happy. Suddenly his reluctance to tell her the truth seemed foolish, self-serving. She deserved the truth, about everything. Keeping it in just kept her wishing, believing, in something that did not exist. Making up his mind, Angel made his way through the throng of teens and the few parents, determined to get her alone. **** Cordelia checked her make-up in the rearview mirror, straightened her bunny ears, and took a deep breath. Harmony’s Halloween party was the first invitation she had gotten from the “A” crowd since her shunning by the shallower members of Sunnydale High. But of course, like all groups that occupied the upper crust of society, eventually her wealth and status had deemed her forgiven. Oh, she knew that this was her probationary period. They would be watching her every move during the party to make absolutely sure she was one of “them” again. God, she felt like a Stepford. Shaking her melancholy mood, Cordelia looked back into the mirror and smiled the smile that she had practiced down to an art. The plastic, superficial, I’m a beauty queen and I vote for world peace smile. This is good, she told herself. These were the people she belonged with. Easier to pretend there is nothing inside of you deeper than your pocketbook when you hung out with people no deeper than theirs. Getting out of the car a sense of relief washed over her at not spotting one AO on the way to Harmony’s. Maybe tonight would not turn out too badly. Harmony always did throw a great party. She would have a good time, at least a decent time. And if it took the whole party to convince herself of that fact well then so be it. Straightening her shoulders, she began to walk to the door, ignoring the catcalls and whistles from some of the football team members drinking outside. **** Forty-five minutes later and Angel still had not gotten to talk to Buffy alone. Instead, he found himself walking with her through a horribly homemade haunting, complete with black garbage bags, peeled grapes, and really bad monster impersonations. The only thing remotely accurate was the continuing theme through the house, the story of an ancient evil being banished to the edge of Hell. Oh, they had almost all of the story wrong, but it seemed they had looked up just enough information - undoubtedly from the internet - to come just close enough to give Angel some pause. He glanced at Buffy who had been content to avoid direct eye contact for most of the evening and took her arm, pulling her to the back of the group of giggling kids. “We need to talk.” “About what, Angel?” she asked with a sigh of frustration, keeping pace with the group ahead as they approached a room with a title written in marker above the door. It read “The Banishment” in red letters made to look as if they were dripping blood. “There are some things…..particularly one thing….It’s about my time ” Angel looked at the backs in front of them as they walked, “my time away,” he continued softer as they entered what appeared to be the finale of the story, a small back room with a door leading outside. “Angel,” Buffy answered just as softly when the guide introduced the last exhibit. “Can’t we just pretend for one night that you are a normal guy and I’m a normal girl out together?” “No, that’s just it. I’m tired of pretending. Pretending I’m something you want me to be.” The guide shot Angel a fierce look meant to hush him as the occupants enacting some concocted ritual began their show. Both Angel and Buffy stared forward, holding off the pending storm while the haunted house reached its anti-climatic ending. Angel leaned his back against the wall behind Buffy and stared seemingly at the three women sitting around a table, a bowl filled with dry ice in the middle. The women, parents he was sure, wore grave and serious faces as they began to speak, waving their hands around the bowl dramatically with each word. “Exsilium sepono proeliator immortalis supplicium curtail abyssus ambitus,” the three spoke in unison. Angel froze. His body, usually cold, felt as if it was on fire. Pain shot through him so intense that he had to bend slightly at the knees just to keep from falling. “Buffy,” he called to her for help. Buffy didn’t answer, her face a grim mask as she continued to watch as the women celebrated. Okay, she was mad. “Buffy,” he tried again as another wave passed through him, this time succeeding in bringing him to his knees. “And the villagers were free of their immortal torturers, the hell warriors that had terrorized them for centuries,” their guide and narrator began his conclusion. “But beware!” he was all theatrics. “there are those who say they walk amongst us, unseen, unheard, forgotten. But although we have forgotten them, they have not forgotten us and are always searching for a way back into our world.” Angel’s pain eased as the group began to file out the back door of the house. Confused, he looked to Buffy again, “What the hell was that?” he asked. Buffy turned and looked, a frown of confusion and then one of anger crossing her face. “I’m sorry, I know I was loud but……something’s wrong.” He ran a hand through his hair and noticed he was shaking. Shaking! Buffy turned and stomped from the room to the yard outside. “Buffy, wait!” Angel called and followed. “I know you’re mad,” he tried softer when he caught up to her. He didn’t want this to go badly, that hadn’t been his intention. And she was scanning the backyard full of partiers, her eyes passing right by him. Christ, he knew she was young, but she didn’t have to act like a baby about it. She was going to have to face some hard truths whether she wanted to or not. “Buffy, ignoring me won’t make what I have to say any less painful.” When she continued her little charade, Angel’s patience began to run thin. Reaching out for her arm as she began to turn he said, “Buffy, Angelus is………”Angel’s words faded. He stood motionless as he stared down at his hand. The hand that had been reaching out to take hold of Buffy. The one that had passed right through her. He couldn’t think for a moment, could barely wrap his mind around the sight. Xander’s voice broke in on Angel’s shocked silence, drawing his attention. “Where’s His Royal Impotency?” was the wisecrack first out of the boy’s mouth. Buffy shrugged, “We had an argument. When I looked up, he was gone.” “Typical,” Xander snorted. “Don’t,” she warned, her eyes still half scanning the crowd as if to catch a glimpse of his retreat. “I don’t understand why he would just leave.” “I didn’t.” “Isn’t that what he does? Stalks, broods, leaves, maims, kills…..” Xander’s words overlapped Angel’s unheard answer. “Xander,” Buffy warned again. Giving up, Xander moved close to his friend, slinging an arm around her shoulder. “Come on. Let’s go see if Giles still has any of the good stuff left.” Buffy gave a small smile, “He buys the full size bars ya know.” “I know. I raided his stash two days before Halloween last year,” Xander confessed as the two friends headed down the sidewalk. And just like that, Angel thought, he was forgotten. Or maybe not forgotten. Maybe they were just used to his usually routine. He had to admit, he had been the king of avoidance, using his power of speed and stealth to get him out of any uncomfortable emotional situation. But damn it! He had wanted to talk it out this time. Wanted to come clean. And now…..now he was invisible. Angel raised his hand in the air. At least he could see himself. What had happened? Angel’s thoughts began to rewind to the haunted house when he had doubled over in pain. As he thought, he absently leaned against a nearby tree and crossed his arms. The tree was solid behind him, supporting his weight. Angel stepped away from the tree and turned toward it, running his hand over the rough bark. Okay, so he could touch trees. He bent to the ground, brushed his hand over the grass, picked up an empty plastic cup and let it drop to the ground. And it seems other things as well. So people were the only thing affected by the invisibility. He leaned against the tree again and felt the burning he had felt in the house before creeping up his spine. What was that? He thought of the room. He’d been trying to talk to Buffy. To tell her about Angelus, to open up a discussion about the nature of their relationship. And ….. His thoughts trailed…… the women. The ones at the table. They had said……what had they said? ……Exsillium sepono ….proeliator immortalis supplicium curail abyssus ambitus…….Oh, no. Oh, shit! They had gotten the curse down with just as little accuracy as they had the story. But, it would seem, enough to have caused a real curse. He went through his mental Latin translator. They had said something close to “banish the tortured, immortal warrior beyond the curtain - or veil maybe - to the border of Hell” The heat passed through him on a stronger wave this time and a familiar taste ran down the back of his throat. He should have remembered that taste, the feeling of heat washing through a cold body. A sound that could almost be defined as a laugh escaped his mouth, full of bitterness and a little left of sane. He was on the border of Hell. Again. And soon they would sense him. Drag him back down to the darkest nightmares beyond anyone’s imagination. Where Angelus waited to claim him again. He scanned the area. One of the Ancient Ones had to be close. That was the taste in the back of his mouth, the one of burnt ash. Their personal calling card to the hunted, damned souls. He wouldn’t stay. Not this time. He had killed two of them before. He could hold them off until he found a way back. Giles would know. But how the hell would he be able to get anything from the Watcher? No one could see him. Convincing himself he would find a way, Angel began to move through the yard and then down the street. He had to keep moving, they would begin tracking him soon if they hadn’t already. And the less Ancients he had to face the better. **** The party had been a huge mistake. She should have known it would not have been that easy to blend right back into the flock. Of course there would be some kind of test. She should have expected it, seen it coming. But Holy Crap! What a freaking disaster. Her test had been handed to her in the form of a drunken Ricky Stanton - current running back of the Sunnydale High football team and the one and only boy she had ever had sex with. He had been a little drunk then too, if memory served, and had taken all of three seconds to “fulfill her every fantasy“ - he had slurred the words into her ear in the confines of the car. Wow, what a turn on. Of course she supposed she should be thankful for his brevity because in those three seconds he had been rough enough to turn her off of the physical stuff indefinitely. Unfortunately, he had not gotten any smoother. Catching her by the arm, he had pulled her into a back room at the party occupied by a few of his friends, informing her that the only way to get rid of the smell of loser from her skin was to be with him again. While a couple of his closest friends looked on of course. What a joke! As if she had had sex with Xander, or anyone else for that matter. “So you smell loser on me?” she had asked in the dingiest voice she could muster, adding a little pout for good measure. “It’s all over you, baby,” he whispered in her ear and tried to kiss her neck. Pulling away, she asked, “So, you’re saying I reek of loser from the last guy I slept with?” “I can smell it all over you,” he smiled at the look of fear on her face. Female insecurity, worked every time. “Well, I guess I’d better go find someone quick, asshole,” her tone changed to a whipping lash. “Because you were the last loser I let touch me.” Cordelia closed her eyes as she made her way out of the house and down the walk. Harmony had been furious. Evidently she had “fixed” things up between Ricky and Cordelia. Her angry words bounced around in Cordelia’s head. “You told him what? He was your ticket back, Cordelia! How am I supposed to show my face around you at school now?” God, what a nightmare. All she wanted to do was go home. Go home, hover under the covers in her room with a good book and pull a Scarlet O’Hara on her disastrous “come back”. She had just taken a deep breath and almost made it to her car, determined to think about it all tomorrow, when she caught sight of Angel walking ahead. He was staring sightlessly forward as he walked, apparently in deep thought. Great, just what she needed. For where Angels tread Buffys were not far behind. It was all she needed for their little circle to witness her humiliation. Now more than ever she needed her mask fully in place. If not for Xander, Buffy, and Willow for the vampire stalking up the sidewalk. He was a particular crack in her wall. Twice she had let her guard down around him. The first time could be explained away to everyone. No one else knew she could tell a vamp from a human. And to be honest, her vampdar had been out of whack the first time she laid eyes on Angel, letting a “salty goodness” remark escape her lips before realizing what he was. It must have been the soul thing that had thrown her off. The second time, however, there had been no excuse. She knew what he was. Still she had sat with him at the little table as he waited for Buffy. Talking about cars and old movies, forgetting herself, everything she had been taught, had practiced. For the first time in … well …. forever she had forgotten her Gram’s words and let herself free if only for a few moments. Luckily Buffy had moped in, her life in full drama. (Pfft! At least the Slayer was powerful enough to kill the things that haunted her. ) By the time Angel had returned to their table, Cordelia had regained herself, wall in place, fortress secure. He had seemed deflated when he returned to find her that way and in truth it had disappointed her. But she knew the reality of things. If he knew what she was and thought that it was important that Buffy know too, he would bark like the lap dog he was. Even worse, if he turned into Angelus again….. Well she didn’t want to think what that demon would do with the knowledge. Nope, his great bod and puppy dog eyes would not get to her this time. He was what he was. A demon. And off limits. Keep the mask on, she told herself, prepared for a confrontation as he neared. His eyes focused on her for a moment, scanned her up and down, focusing intently on her outfit before returning to her face. She hadn’t felt self-conscious in the bunny suit until that moment. She had worn it for the reaction it would cause in everyone else, to continue the game she played, the trick on them all. But Angel. For some reason she wanted to crawl under a rock or throw a raincoat over herself. Because the look Angel had just given her wasn’t the look the boys from school gave. One that said “Wow she’s hot! Must be dumb and shallow too.” The look Angel had given her made her aware of every part of her that was exposed. And the parts that weren’t. She waited for his comment, or even a nod of acknowledgement as Angel reached the sidewalk next to her and then……passed right by. She watched him, his gate angry and purposeful, reaching out and grabbing the cane held by one of the drunken teen partiers as part of a costume. The boy fell to the ground, the cane obviously his only source of vertical establishment. The boy shook his head and looked around, confused, and like he might just lose whatever concoction that had gotten him so smashed. “Gee,” she called after, not able to help herself. The war in her mind and heart over wanting to be noticed and not be noticed coming to a draw. “Buffy try to send you to Hell again or is it just Angelus paying a visit?” Of course she knew it wasn’t Angelus, she could sense that monster a mile away. This was just Angel in full brood and a little pissed. She should have just let it go, but he had walked right passed her! Without even a word. Even though his look had held a thousand of them. It was just that she couldn’t seem to translate if the look had been one of disgust…..or approval? Angel stopped, still as stone before turning to her, his brows down in a frown. “You see me,” his deep voice nearly rasped out. “Yeah,” came her sing-song sarcasm peppered with a little hurt at his disregard. Remberthewall, rememberthemask. Catching herself, she flipped her hair to one side, all ice-princess. “Just taking up for my friends,” she gave a head nod to the still stunned second stringer on the ground who looked like he could puke at any moment. The one who’s name she didn’t even know, much less counted as a friend. “It’s rude to push my friends around and I would appreciate it if you at least try to act hu….well civil at least.” With that, she turned on her spiky heels, chin held high, and beeped off her alarm on her car down the street. He was beside her in less than a second, hesitated, then reached out and grabbed her arm, turning her around to face him. “Hey!” God, she was tired of grabby male hands tonight. But Angel ignored her protest and simply stared down where his hand had hold of her. Very slowly he looked up at her, but didn‘t let go. “You see me,” he repeated with amazement. “And I can touch you.” “Uh, no you can’t, buster,” she snapped, pulling her arm away and turning back to her car. Angel felt the burning spike up the back of his neck again, the bad taste in his mouth. The Ancients. Fuck, he didn’t need this right now. He knew they could sense him and as soon as they caught up with him….. He was not going back. Not ever. He’d burn in the sun before he was taken back to Hell by one of those bastards. Angel moved around her, blocking her from stepping off the curb and reaching the driver’s side door. “Cordelia,” he said with as much patience as he could collect. “I need you to listen to me. I’ve been cursed.” “Well, duh. Isn’t that your whole bio. Cursed vamp with a soul, cursed vamp with a Slayer for a girlfriend, cursed vamp who can’t…….” “Cordelia, tonight. Tonight I was cursed. No one can see me. Except, for some odd reason, you.” When she looked at him like he was insane, Angel stepped back onto the sidewalk and stood still, waiting for the next person to walk by. Cordelia’s eyes grew huge as the trick-or-treater passed right through him. “What…..?” Cordelia trailed off as Angel walked back to her side. Reaching out, she made contact with his chest. “How can I feel you? You’re real, I feel you,” she reiterated while her hand roamed from chest to shoulder. “I don’t have time to explain now,” he took a quick scan around. “And I’m not really sure why you can see me. But because you can see and hear me, I need your help. I need to get to Giles. Figure out if there is a reverse for this idiotic thing.” He looked around again. Cordelia didn’t like the way his eyes kept searching, he seemed a little off. Nervous? Did Angel even get nervous? “Why are you looking around like that?” “We need to go,” he said, his eyes still scanning, the heat now radiating his whole body. Grabbing her a little too hard, he pushed her toward her car. “Hey! Again with the hands,” she shot, pushing him away and standing her ground. “I’m not going anywhere until you tell me what you’re so afraid of?” “I’m not afraid!” He snapped his head back to her, his tone and stance making her take a step back. Christ, he didn’t need her scared. How could he get her to help him if she was terrified of him? It was just that he didn’t like to hear Cordelia call him afraid for some strange reason. He didn’t want her to think of him as weak. Even though it shouldn’t matter to him. Why did he care? “I’m sorry,” he calmed. “It’s just… You probably won’t believe me. Being human you can’t see them or sense them.” Cordelia crossed her arms over her chest, innocently pushing up her already elevated cleavage. Angel would not look down. He would not look……God, her breast were amazing. “Excuse me,” Cordelia drew his attention back to her face. So the look had been approval. She hid her delight, secretly hating herself for finding pleasure in his appreciation of her body. “We’re not going anywhere until you tell me at least a little about what is going on.” Angel paused for a moment, trying to think how to continue, ignoring the growing warning shooting through his body. He did owe her something if she was going to help him. Even if she wasn‘t going to be in any danger. “You know that they call Sunnydale the “Hellmouth” right? You’ve heard Giles or the others call it that?” Cordelia nodded her head but still kept her distance. Noticing something about the vampire before her. He was confident even though he appeared a little worried. And he kept scanning around before looking back at her, like a warrior waiting for a fight. Primed. Dangerous. This was not Angel. Not the one she knew, the one that followed behind Buffy or sulked in corners until someone called his name. This Angel was full of aggression. Buzzing with the need to fight or get the hell out of the way of whatever he thought was coming. “Look,“ he continued. “I’m here, but not here. I’m….stuck, I think…on the edge, or the border might be more accurate.” Jesus, this seemed so hard to explain. “I’m walking the border of a demon Hell, Cordelia. And the things that patrol that border sense me, are after me probably by now. They are beyond your imagination, Cordelia. Think of a demon’s demon. Something that would put fear into the things that hunt humans. I’m walking in both world’s, that one and this. I can touch some things, it appears, inanimate objects, but not humans. I can see and hear and smell them just as always, but it’s like I don’t exist anymore. Except, to you. Understand?” “No, not really.” But it didn’t matter. She tried to remind herself that this was Angel, the vampire, the demon, the one that carried Angelus around with him. But how could she not help? She knew how that felt, walking in a world where no one really saw you. Oh, maybe in her case it was just metaphorical, but still, the idea. She knew. Angel stared at her, watching her expression change, watching that counterfeit wall drop in an instant. This was the Cordelia that had sat and talked with him. This was what he thought he had seen that night, the person who had attracted him and drawn his interest. The one he had wanted to know more about. Cordelia had to help him of course. Oh, she could fool herself for a moment and act as though the fact that he needed her, Cordelia Chase, to help him didn‘t thrill her beyond what she was comfortable admitting.. But it did. Someone needed her. Angel needed her. “Come on,” she moved to the car door acting put out by the effort it would take to help him, trying to convince herself and him that doing so was a great hardship. He followed her lead, going to the passenger side. “I’ll take you to Giles and explain what’s happened. Maybe he can help.” “Cordelia,” Angel looked over the top of the little red car, grabbing her attention before they got in. It wasn‘t fair that he was asking this of her. She had apparently come from the party a few houses down. He imaged she had probably been having a great time too. How could she not have been having a great time looking like that? She had just gotten that idiot Xander Harris out of her life, barely escaping the break-up with her life. From what he understood, the rebar had come very close to some vital organs. At least that is what her chart had said when he had snuck into the hospital. He should just walk away. Leave her alone. Let her go back to that big house down the road, flirt with boys, get grounded for pushing curfew. But she was his only hope of finding out how to reverse the curse. If there was a way. “Thanks,” was all he could offer now. Later, he promised himself. Later I’ll find a way to repay her. She blew out a long breath she’d been holding, trying to relax herself, shaking the thrill of him needing her from her stupid head. Being around Angel was dangerous, and she really shouldn’t be inviting anymore danger into her life. “No problem.” But it was a problem. Getting mixed up with Angel and his curses was a huge mistake. Hadn’t she learned anything from Buffy’s tragedy? “We’ll go see Giles and he will fix it,” she said to herself more than him as she reached for the handle. She would make sure he could help him then she was gone. Self-preserved, behind the wall. The tall, dense, lonely wall. “Shit,” Angel’s voice stalled her hand on the door. “What?” Cordelia looked at Angel, following his eyes to a far yard down the street. Terror. Shear terror consumed her. There in the shadows of a large oak tree stood an Ancient One. Staring straight back at them. It had been years since she had dared look directly at one of the monsters. And then it had been in profile, with a little more distance than it stood now. It was massive. The upper part of its body was similar to a human. Okay, a human with oversized muscles and a sprinkling of …. scales? . It’s bluish, gray skin was marred with something down one arm but from the distance she couldn’t tell if it was writing or scars. At the end of the arms, its human looking shape changed into something more along the lines of misshapen hands with long, sharp, dagger-like claws. It’s legs were also massive, fitting its size, but were more animal than anything, with joints opposing that of a humans and covered in hair. It’s feet where hoofed. Mounted atop its head were a set of enormous horns that curled slightly then pointed out. It’s mouth, if you could call it a mouth, was parted slightly as it sniffed the air, showing off a set of terrifying fangs. And it’s face. It’s face was something she could not describe or place, unlike anything she had ever seen or wished to see. And the image of that hellish face wavered every so often just like the top of asphalt on a hot August day, as if it were behind a wall of heat. It’s eyes. It’s eyes were fire, flames that flickered and burned……they were burning…….a hole right through Angel. It wasn’t after her. Didn’t even seem to notice her really. It was after Angel. This was his demon. This was the thing after him. His monsters were her monsters. And he could see them and they could see him. “Hurry up! Get in!” Angel ordered. A thought paralyzed her. Self preservation kicked in. ‘Never let them know you see them’, her Gram’s voice echoed through her mind. They would know. If they saw her with Angel, knew she could see him, they would know. Angel pulled the door handle hard and jumped into the little car. Thank goodness Cordelia couldn’t see the Ancient. It couldn’t hurt her, being human and unable to see or feel the overlap of dimensions and that thought put his mind at ease somewhat. Relieved some guilt. But he wasn’t ready to give up on his fight to stay in the world just yet and if he couldn’t get her moving, his fight might be over before it began. “Cordelia, come on,” he called from the car. What was she going to do? She could ignore Angel. She was good at that. Then the AO would go away wouldn’t it? That was the way it had always worked for her. Careful not to ever let them get too close for fear that they would find out she could be touched by them. Always letting her eyes focus just long enough in their direction as not to look suspicious but not long enough as to appear able to see them. She could do it. But Angel. He needed her help. How could she do that to him? Could she actually leave him, listen to them capture him, take him away or worse? The answer came quick and sharp. No. She couldn’t. She would not leave him alone as she had always been to face this. Quickly, she got in the car and started the engine. The Ancient let out a piercing call, louder than she had ever heard, and began a dead rum toward them. “Cordelia, I know you can’t see it, but we’ve got company. And we need to move. Now!” He didn’t know. He hadn’t realized that she had looked right at it. “See what? Where?” she asked the question she already knew the answer to as she started the car. She would help him, but that didn’t mean he had to know about her curse. “Headed right this way. Go.” Cordelia pulled out of the spot quickly, going as fast as she could down the residential street. “Crap,” she ground between her teeth as she swerved to miss a group of kids. Angel’s head was turned, watching for the Ancient she was sure. Was he following? Her heart raced. She’d gotten so used to their presence, so used to pretending that they didn’t exist. But now that one was actually following her she could feel fractures in her wall. She had to keep calm, couldn’t let Angel know. She reminded herself of what had happened when she had thought about telling Xander her secret. Right before his betrayal. No. She could never do that again. Never risk it. Never trust someone enough. Making up her mind to keep Angel in the dark, she stole a glance in the rearview mirror, a small, inaudible gasp escaping her mouth at the site of the demon picking up speed behind them, running like a bull in full charge. Her eyes shot to the road before her, her resolve back in place. She wouldn’t look again, not because she thought Angel might notice her looking, but because she was afraid to look, afraid to face the monster that had been searching for her all her life. Turning back around halfway, Angel stared at Cordelia’s profile, his eyes hooded by his serious brow. She had gasped, he had heard it loud and clear. Suspicion crept into his mind. The fear coming off of her in waves could be explained by the situation they were in, that he was putting her in . But the gasp. His peripheral vision had caught a glimpse of her looking into the rearview mirror, and she had gasped. Angel glanced back, the Ancient was growing smaller in the frame of the window. They were losing the creature. But it wouldn’t be for long. He knew how tenacious the things were. Their tracking skills were unmatched. He was going to have to find a way out of this and quick. “I think we lost him, for now anyway,” Angel turned back around in the seat. “Good,” Cordelia’s voice came in a calm practiced manner. Even her fear was ebbing a little. Maybe she hadn’t seen. Except that her knuckles were turning bone white from her death grip on the steering wheel and ….there….she had glanced again, the pupils of her eyes adjusting, focusing.. Crap. She couldn’t quit looking in the mirror, no matter how hard she tried. She wanted to be free and clear of the monster, verify it for herself that they had lost him, for now at least. “Turn here,” Angel ordered softly, choosing not to call her out on her ability to see the Ancient. Apparently there was much more to Cordelia Chase than met the eye, and there would be time enough to find it all out. But right now his situation was becoming more serious, more deadly. Because if Cordelia could see them, that meant…..he didn’t want to think about what that meant at the moment. For now, losing that bullhead behind them was the first order of business. “This isn’t the way to Giles,” she protested even as she turned. “They’re extremely gifted trackers. We have to throw him off a little if we’re going to make it to Giles without the demon catching up to us. Here….pull over here.” Cordelia parked the car behind a classic convertible. The kind that was kept in good, authentic condition. Not like the souped-up models at Saturday night car cruises by the local Auto Antique Guild. She turned off the engine, “Now what?” “We change rides. He’ll track us to this car and before he can pick the sent back up again, we’ll have a few miles on him,” Angel explained as he got out of the vehicle. Cordelia followed. Good God! She watched as Angel approached the beautiful piece of machinery. He wasn’t actually going to steal it? Was he? “Please tell me we‘re not adding Grand Theft Auto to this evening’s agenda,” she put her thoughts into words. “Steal?” he sounded offended. “ It’s mine.” He pulled out the keys and proceeded to get in. On the driver’s side. “Get in.” “You seem to be forgetting something. You can’t drive.” “I’ve been driving since before you….make that since before you’re grandmother was born,” he tossed the comment. “And when say, oh, Sunnydale’s finest stops us because, gee, there’s no one actually in the driver’s seat, how will your many, many years of driving experience help us out of that situation?” her brows raised, waiting for his reply. “Fine,” he tossed her the keys and moved across the seat to the passenger side. Normally, Cordelia would have been thrilled by the fact that she was going to drive the beauty. But normally, she wasn’t running from a Hell beast and trying to save Angel from eternal damnation - or at least another hundred year stint So she settled for a quiet pleasure as she slipped into the car, situated herself on the leather seat, and cranked the old baby up. What a piece of machinery. “Giles?” she asked, making sure this one switch was enough for now. He nodded and only the panic that she was pressing down in her mind kept her from smiling at the look on his face. He was an over protective parent letting someone hold his baby for the first time. “Don’t worry. I’ve got too much respect for it to do any damage,” she assured and pulled away from the curb. **** As they turned into the parking lot of Giles’ complex, Angel stared over at Cordelia. She looked good driving his car. The wind blowing through her thick chestnut hair. The bunny ears had been tossed to the backseat as soon as the first whip of wind had almost taken them, leaving her hair free to dance around her face. A “what if” ran through his mind as he watched her. What if Buffy had never walked in the night he had been sitting with Cordelia at that table? Would he have gotten to know the real Cordelia then? Or would her barrier have shot up anyway? He had wondered that night if it had been a fluke, a misjudgment of character to think of her as someone deeper than others. Someone worth getting involved with. But now he knew. There was no mistake. Cordelia Chase ran deeper than any human he’d ever met. Her impenetrable wall was proof of that. Only the deepest body of water needed a dam that strong to hold everything in. Or out. The lot was crowded. A loud party in the second building most likely the source of scarce parking space. So Cordelia found the only empty spot in sight, three units down from Giles’. After pulling in, she turned off the car and handed Angel the keys. He was staring at her again, he’d been doing that almost the whole way to Giles’. “What?” she finally asked. “Are we getting out, or not?” He knew he should be moving, racing to the Watcher’s apartment as fast as he could. But he had to know something first. “When did you start to see them?” He asked because he had to. It couldn’t have been for long, maybe tonight was her first time. Maybe whatever connected her to him had made them visible to her. Maybe it was his fault. “Who?” she pretended and began to check her windblown hair in the mirror. Not that it needed it, it actually looked kind of great in a rebellious sort of way. But she had to distract herself. He was looking at her and God help her she wanted to tell him. Needed to. Why wouldn’t she talk to him? Why pretend that she hadn’t seen the beast? “Cordelia,” he reached up and turned the mirror away from her, unable to stand her avoidance. “You saw it. I know you saw it. How long? Was tonight the first time?” Cordelia grabbed the mirror, pulling her face back into her view. She began to dab at her lip glass but noticed that her fingers trembled and opted for a quick digit comb through of her hair. “No wonder the women in the forties and fifties wore scarves, this hunk of metal really does a number on your locks.” Okay, he was getting pissed now. This stupid act might sit well with everyone else, keep her in some kind of safe zone. But she wasn’t safe. She had seen the monster. And that meant it could hurt her. He found that he couldn’t stand her fake attention to her appearance any longer. Grabbing her by her wrists, he jerked her hands away from her hair and turned her, probably a little too roughly, but damn it, she was going to talk to him. Cordelia’s eyes grew wide as her body was jerked roughly, her attention demanded physically by Angel. She stared at him, her expression changing. She would not tell him. She couldn’t. “Damn it, Cordelia. Talk to me. You’re willing to help me. Let me help you.” It wasn’t his surprisingly rough treatment of her that did her in, or his statement about her helping him. She would have helped him no matter what the consequences. She knew that somewhere deep inside herself. It was his offer of help to her. He said he would help her. Oh, he couldn’t really help her. She knew that. But to tell someone. Someone who might understand. He could see them. It would feel so good just to say it. Just once. Tell him. “Eighteen years, one month and seventeen days,” the words tumbled out of her mouth. She hated the fact that her lips had trembled a bit when she said it. She’d wanted her voice to come out strong, as Angel’s had when he had explained to her about the Ancient Ones. A warrior, ready to fight through his fear. “What?” for some reason her answer didn’t seem to make sense right away. “You asked me…” she tried to bring strength back to her voice but it seemed unreachable, “how long. Eighteen years, one month and seventeen days.” Crap, tears wouldn’t help them right now. They had to get out of the car, into Giles’, find the reverse spell or whatever Angel needed to get him back to his dark, broody, corporal self. “It doesn’t matter. You can’t tell anyone, Angel. I don’t even know why…..Crap. Let’s just get out…..” Angel slipped his hands from her wrists, to her hands. His cool fingers squeezing slightly. “God, Cordelia. Why haven’t you told anyone? Do you know what that means? If you can see them they can harm you. It all makes sense now. That’s why you see me. I’m in their domain. How have you survived this long without……” he didn’t want to finish that. Suddenly the what if game seemed a horrible game. What if they found her out? Took her. Did the things he knew them capable of doing. To Cordelia. God, his hands felt good, holding hers, pouring strength into her. “I wasn’t the only one in my family apparently with the curse. My great-grandmother and a few others too. She, my Gram, was the one that taught me how to shut myself off. Of course, I never knew exactly what the Ancients were or why I could see them. Gram never told me that. But she tried to help me in her own way I guess. ‘Pretend’ she used to tell me. So I did. I pretended they weren’t there. I pretended who I was and who I wasn’t. And after a while, it just became, life. A way to survive.” Crap, it was spilling out of her so fast, too fast for her to shut herself up. “And none of them have ever acted as if they sensed you, knew that you could see them?” She shrugged, “They’re always around. I think they do sense something, here in Sunnydale. But, I guess lucky for me there are a lot of supernatural distractions. Probably hard to track a freak in a town full of freaks,” she gave a shaky laugh that carried no humor. “You’re not a freak, Cordelia. And I don’t think you’re cursed either.” He searched his brain for all he knew of the old stories and lore about the Ancient Ones. They had walked the Earth, able to move between dimensions freely until they had been sent permanently to the border. But there was another part he couldn’t remember, something about the way human’s had protected themselves from the Ancients before they were cursed behind the veil. “Let’s go,” he let go of Cordelia hands. She was glad to drop the subject, she felt drained and more afraid than she had in a long time. Afraid that Angel would betray her secret, afraid that the monsters would finally catch on now that her defenses seemed to be failing her, afraid that there might not be an answer for Angel at Giles’. The last fear made her stomach roll. How could she witness that? Knowing what was happening to him and being powerless to help? That would be Hell itself, not the border or edge of it. She slipped out of the car and followed Angel, trying to stay up with him. His strides were sure, purposeful. Well, she though, at least he had hope that there was some sort of answer to his problem in 201A. She hoped he was right. She wanted that answer for him more than he could ever know. He had suffered enough hadn’t he? Turned into a vampire, cursed, sent to Hell by someone he cared for, sent back, anointed with yet another curse. God, no wonder she felt close to him. He bore all of those things just as she did. Sure, some people knew about his problems, but he kept mostly to himself, not letting anyone in, close. Except for Buffy. And why in the world did that bother her? Shouldn’t he have happiness. Well, not that kind of happiness. But shouldn’t he have love? Shouldn’t everyone? If she thought anything of him, shouldn’t she want that for him? Happiness. With Buffy. Except, she didn’t like the way he was with Buffy. His walls were just as strong as the ones Cordelia had built around herself when he was around Buffy. So scared he would make a mistake: a bad boy in the principal’s office, a delinquent in the confessional. Holding back his strength and his nature because he felt…..what? Not good enough? That wasn’t love? Was it? It certainly wasn’t the type of love she wanted. She wanted to be an open book to the person she loved. Acceptance, warts and all. Except, there in lay the problem. For her anyway. Because she could never be open with anyone about who she really was. Well, okay, she had told Angel. But that didn’t count. Not really, she lied to herself. Angel walked with a purpose, a mission. To find a way to help Cordelia. Sure she’d managed to keep herself under their radar for years. And maybe she would have lived out her life never giving the monsters a clue as to who she was. But what kind of life was that? To hide everything about yourself, never letting anyone near enough to truly know you, love you? It disturbed him a bit that he had thought about: Cordelia and love. But it was natural wasn’t it? He wanted a good life for her, a full life. She was helping him, and in some way he felt strongly connected to her, probably because he was so strongly attracted to her and probably because they shared being cursed. And love was a natural thing to wish for someone. Especially a young girl. Well, technically a young woman, evidently she was over eighteen. But that didn’t matter of course. He just wanted her to be……happy? Was that why he was so determined? He wasn’t sure. He wasn’t really sure what he was feeling. The only thing he did know was that in the search for his fix, he would find hers. Because he couldn’t think about her not being safe. He needed to know she was safe. Cordelia Chase would live without the nightmare that had been haunting her all her life. That was one thing he would make damn sure of. **** The evening had been warmer than most Halloweens even for California and because of that fact, Giles’ windows as well as most of the unit’s windows were open. Cordelia and Angel walked to the front door, the voices of Xander and Buffy filtering through the screens. “Great. Just perfect.” Cordelia said under her breath. Angel didn’t want to face them either, and, lucky for him he truly didn’t have to. But he knew Cordelia was cringing at the prospect of facing her idiotic ex. “It’s alright. You can do this. Just don’t let him get to you.” He gave her the pep talk, wishing he could be seen, that he could glare at Xander and put some fear into the boy. He would like that. To see Xander practically piss himself, and he could make that happen, in front of Cordelia. Then he could show Cordelia that the fool wasn’t worth her stress. Xander had weaseled his way into Cordelia’s life, her heart, only to treat it like shit. The only consolation that Angel had was that she would be alright, because she hadn’t loved him, not really. He knew, even though he wasn’t quite sure how, that Cordelia, when in love, would tell her secrets and if not break down her wall, at least throw a rope over it so that the one she loved could get in, get close. Of course, she had told him. But that was out of desperation. They had been thrown into her secret by the stupid curse the women had accidentally placed on him. She had had no choice but to tell him. So her telling him didn’t really count. Not really. He didn’t know why he should feel depressed at that thought. That her telling him had been out of force, not will. But it didn’t matter now. They were here. She would speak to Giles, get the info they needed, and fix the problem. For both of them. Cordelia turned to the door, took a deep breath, a knocked. Oh, her lucky night just kept getting better, she thought as Xander opened the door. “I need to speak to Giles,” she said in her haughtiest tone, full of ice, barrier solidly in place. Xander stared like a deer caught in headlights as he looked at her. His eyes roamed over her, down, up, down again. When he finally reached her eyes, he seemed to catch himself. “Hello, Cordelia. I didn’t know there was a Hoe-lloween party on this side of town. But I must say. You should win the door prize. Where did you get that thing, Sluts-R-Us?” He was all verbal intimidation, Angel knew it. And he knew it was because Cordelia intimidated him physically. She was a goddess compared to anything that kid deserved. Before he knew what he was doing, Angel opened his mouth to say something. “He can’t hear you,” Cordelia said before the words came out. “Who can’t hear me?” Xander asked, a little fear in his voice as he looked around outside. Had she brought one of the football players with her? “No one, never mind. I really need to speak to Giles. There’s something, important that I need help with.” “He’s not here,” Buffy joined Xander at the door. “We came to raid his candy,” Xander continued a little nicer. He hadn’t actually meant to be so mean to Cordelia, but she was just too much. Too pretty, too confident, too everything. It made him so uncomfortable. It was why he had gone after Willow he supposed. Now there was a girl he could handle. Cordelia was just……Cordelia. “He was on his way out for a date if you can believe that,” Xander rambled on. “Never thought he would date again after Ms. Calendar. But he said we could stay if we wanted.” Cordelia looked at her side to Angel. She could almost feel him flinch at the name of the teacher Angelus had killed. She sent him a sympathetic look and brushed her hand against his in support, willing him strength the way he had offered her strength in the car. “Do you know when he’ll be back?” “Why do YOU need to talk to Giles,” Buffy tried to stop the rudeness that came out in her voice, but damn it. Cordelia had already gotten her grips into Xander. Looking like she was tonight……well, it didn’t look like she was prowling for anyone to “talk” with. “Tell them,” Angel urged. He couldn’t stand the way they both looked at her. If they knew, they would help, and focus their attention somewhere else besides Cordelia. Xander’s insecurity and Buffy’s jealousy were making them cruel and he didn’t like to see Buffy acting out as she was. Even more so, he didn’t like the fact that they were hurting Cordelia. Even if she hid it well. “Alright,” Cordelia sighed as if the agreement was hard to make. Angel knew it would be difficult for her to explain. Hard to get out even. It had been hard to tell her when he thought she didn’t know about the border and the Ancients. He waited patiently. He wouldn’t get frustrated or push her. He would let her take her time to try and explain. They were going to be there for a while. “Angel’s been cursed, again. Somebody put a spell on him and now he walks a dimension in which no one can see him or touch him but me. And, as luck would have it, our dimension happens to be smack dab on top of or intertwined with this other dimension which also happens to be the border or edge to a demon Hell dimension. You know, the one you sent him to. And there are these monsters that are after him to torture and take him back. And if we don’t find Giles and find a fix for what has happened it may be more than a hundred years- in his life- that you see him again.” Wow! Angel thought. Straight to the point, no drama, no theatrics. She was great, concise, and to the point. He loved it. No guessing at what was going on. He imagined this must be part of her real self, maybe something that she always let slip through. Truth in everything. He believed anyone that was ever with her, friend or lover, would always know exactly where they stood and how she felt. Wouldn’t that be wonderful. Never to guess if you were doing the wrong thing, making the wrong move. To just know. Who you were and what you felt. “How’s that?” she threw back over her shoulder. “Perfect,” he looked at Buffy and Xander expectantly. It was clear as it could be. Buffy rolled her eyes, “You’ve got to be kidding me. You’re the only one who can see him, touch him? And why would that be I wonder when he barely knows you. Despite your every attempt to push yourself at him.” Buffy knew she sounded like a jealous child, and she had to admit that she was a little peeved at Cordelia faking closeness with Angel, but something had to be done. Someone had to take her down a notch. She just couldn’t stand seeing her in that ridiculous Playboy outfit, demanding to see Giles, then telling her that Angel was somewhere where he could only communicate with her! “Cordelia, I understand that you want to get back at Xander for what he did,” Buffy tried to be kind. She did feel a little sorry for Cordelia and worked with that emotion as much as possible. She would not be cruel, she would try to be as polite as possible. She would not, could not stoop to Cordelia’s level of desperate ploys to seek attention. “But coming over to Giles’ private residence dressed like that,” she motioned to the outfit, “then using my horrible guilt over sending Angel to hell to get what you want won’t work. I feel sorry for you, Cordelia. You don’t understand how to have real friends. What a sacrifice it is to put yourself on the line to keep the people you care about, and some you don’t, safe.” Buffy started to shut the door and when Cordelia would have reached out to push it open, Angel stopped her. “Let it go,” he said softly, still staring at Buffy as the door clicked shut. How could she at least not find out if it were true? It wasn’t completely unbelievable. Nothing was in the Hellmouth. But she didn’t even try. Because it came from Cordelia.. A realization came over him then. He cared for Buffy, that would never change, but she wasn’t the bearer of all that was pure. He’d made her into some kind of Savior. Some kind of measure for what was good, what was right. But she was just a girl. With no more wisdom than the rest of them. No more knowledge of the true purpose of existence. She’d been handed her fate and was dealing with it. Not very well, but still, she was trying. He hadn’t seen love through the window of her home when he first became to know who she was. He had seen a lifeboat, a way out of his despair. He looked at Cordelia, then began to pace. This wouldn’t include Buffy. Even if he could convince her with words from Cordelia that only Buffy and he would know. Besides, Cordelia didn’t want them to know about her “condition” and bringing them into it would likely cast it into the light. Would they bring her into the fold then? Because of her curse? No, by the reception she had received she would probably be treated like the “freak” she called herself. Maybe not by Buffy. But Xander would use it. Even though he would hate himself someday for doing it. “We could always just wait here,” she offered, feeling as if she had failed in some way. Maybe if she was more like them they would have listened. Maybe she’d been too blunt. But time was of the essence, wasn’t it? “No,” he leaned against the wall and thought for a moment then pushed away. “Knock again.” “What? No.” “Knock again.” “And say what?” “It doesn’t matter.” Cordelia looked at him suspiciously but turned toward the door and knocked. Buffy opened the door, “What is it?” she said in a defeated breath. Cordelia didn’t know what to say. She looked to Angel who was making his way around her. Watched as he passed right through Buffy and entered Giles’ apartment. “Cordelia, I have had a long night,” Buffy said in an I-have-the-weight-of-the-world on my shoulders type of way. She wanted to snap at her. Make some snide remark about how they had all dumped her, not just Xander. How she had laid in the hospital, alone. Her only visitor Xander. But he hadn’t stayed for comfort, hadn’t hung around outside her door to see how she was, to wait for her to work through her anger. The moment she couldn’t forgive him instantly he bailed. It had been all about his feelings of guilt, not her injuries, both physical and emotional. She had thought she was becoming close to them. As close as she could let anyone get. But the only reason they had tolerated her at all had been because of Xander. That was now crystal clear. So it wouldn’t matter what she said to Buffy or anyone else. They wouldn’t get it. Because they didn’t know. Because Cordelia Chase was shallow. Not deep and thoughtful. She didn’t have problems because she was rich and pretty. Right? But little did they know, she did sympathize with Buffy. The Slayer did have the weight of the world on her shoulders. And she looked depressed. Well, she always looked depressed. But tonight was different. Cordelia could sense that she was truly sad. “Trick or Treat!” the kids behind her broke the silence and Cordelia moved to the side, letting the fairy and Harry Potter character shove their bags out in front of them. Buffy left, returned with a couple of handfuls of brightly packaged chocolates, and turned back to Cordelia in silence. Never inviting her in, but waiting. “Never mind,” Cordelia said. Buffy started to shut the door and then paused half way. “Cordelia,” she caught her attention as she was turning away. “I’m glad you’re alright. What happened to you shouldn’t have happened.” “Oh,” Cordelia was struck speechless for a moment. Lifting up her hand, she touched the spot where the rebar had struck and absently rubbed it. “The impalement,” she smiled a little because, well, she was uncomfortable and a little caught off guard. It was the first time anyone had said anything about what had happened. “Yeah, that too,” Buffy said before she shut the door. Cordelia realized then that she had meant Xander, his betrayal. “Thanks,” she whispered to the door. **** What was taking him so long? Cordelia paced by the side of the apartment, careful to stay in the shadows. God, he was rubbing off on her. She was lurking! Actually lurking in the shadows like some, some, creature of the night. Okay, make that more like a candidate for petty theft, she thought to herself as she saw Angel climbing out the loft window above, dropping a duffle bag to the bushes below to conceal the sound of the fall. He, of course, made no sound, as he dropped to the short grass in front of her. “What’s all this?” “Books. As many as I could find that might help us.” “Us?” He didn’t answer as picked up the bag and waited for her to lead the way to his car. Cordelia heard a suspicious clank when he began to move with the bag in his hand. “Books huh?” she shot back as they made their way through the pools of light from the poles above. “And a few weapons,” he patted his jacket. “In case we run into an Ancient again.” “Can you use them?” she asked when they reached the car. “You saw me knock the cane from your friends hand in front of the party. I can touch inanimate things. Remember?” “He wasn’t my friend.” “I know,” he said as he threw the bag in the backseat and got in. “Besides, I didn’t mean can you touch them. Because obviously you can. I just meant,” she started the car. “Do you know how? To kill it I mean,” she couldn’t help the hope in her voice. Was it possible that there was a way to destroy them? Angel hated the hope in her voice. He could kill them. He knew how. He’d learned it the hard way though. But it wasn’t easy and he hoped like hell she never had to see him do it. “Yeah, I know how,” he answered softly, his eyes trained on the road as they pulled out. He couldn’t look at her. Partly because of the possibility that she might see him kill one. The brutality of it would definitely turn her stomach. But also he couldn’t make eye contact because of what he had to ask of her next. But he need it, if he was going to be strong enough to face one of the demons. “We have to make a stop,” he finally said. “A stop before where? I’m not sure where we’re going. Are you?” “We need a place to sit down and rest so I can study these things. Some of them are in Latin, which is no problem. But others. ….I’m not sure I’ll be able to translate.” “We could go to my house,” she said and he turned to look at her profile, noticing the way she fidgeted with the bodice of the outfit she wore. She was self-conscious now. Xander had done that to her. With his juvenile comments. More so to make himself feel better than to make her feel bad. “You look great, by the way,” he commented. “The outfit…it‘s…..,” Christ, how did you complement someone in a civilized manner about how delicious they were without coming off so……perverted? He had looked at a Playboy or two. Hell, he’d even been to one of the old clubs back when they were new. But never before did he want to personally thank Hugh Hefner for making the signature uniform. Not until now. She looked as good as any Bunny he’d ever seen. Better. Yeah, better even. All that crimson satin, hugging curves that made him think thoughts that he had previously believed only came from Angelus. Not horrible thoughts, but dark enough that he believed couldn’t be imagined by someone good. It was why he had gone for Buffy. She had made him think of purity. Of white weddings and picketed fences. But these thoughts about Cordelia were borderline dark, possessive. And were shocking him to his core. When had this feeling started creeping in? Visions of him stripping off the tight garb ran through his brain. The sound of the material ripping as he pulled it from her body. God, she would look great under there, feel great too. And there was nothing pure or sweet about what he wanted to do to her. What he wanted her to do to him. Angel swallowed and shifted his position in his seat. His peripheral vision caught her glancing to him now and then. Why was she looking as if she were waiting? They had been heading out and he had said…..oh yeah. “You look….pretty,” he settled on the most civilized thing he could think of. Pretty? That’s what her outfit inspired in a male who had lived as long as he had? Seen probably hundreds of beautiful women. And of all those, she ranked as…..simply, pretty. She didn’t know why the comment bothered her. It was nice, as compliments go. She liked being pretty, as vain as that sounded. And she should be grateful that he found her ….pretty….God, she could barely think the word. But she didn’t want to be merely pretty to him. She wanted to be….what? Hot. Desirable. Irresistible? It was insane, she knew. She had seen the way he had stared at Buffy when she refused to help. As if the realization hurt him in some way. Maybe she just wasn’t his type. Maybe he liked short blondes with no boobs. Some men did. Or maybe he was just trying to make her feel better after Xander’s comment. She had to remind herself why he was with her anyway. She could see him, therefore she could help him. “Well,” she continued their planning as if he hadn’t given the compliment. Even though she should really thank him. But she didn’t want to. Not for pretty. God, she was vain. “We could go to my house. I want to get out of this thing anyway and my feet are killing me.” “What about your parents. I mean, I know they can’t see me but still.” “They couldn’t see you if you were solidly in place in this dimension. Not all the way from Miami anyway.” “They left you alone?” he said incredulously to her profile. “I am eighteen. I know you’ve got well over a hundred years on me but technically I’m an adult.” He ignored the way his spirits rose when she confirmed her age again. She was definitely that, he thought as he looked at her body again. Fuck, he was a pervert. Then he made a mental note to remove that newly acquired word ‘fuck’ from his mind. He didn’t need the images that it conjured in Cordelia’s presence. “No, I mean. They leave you alone knowing what you’re going through? How you have to deal with what you see?” “They don’t know,” she kept her eyes trained on the red light they had stopped for. “Why?” “I just never told anyone. Gram told me that no one would believe me and I think she was right to do it. I’d rather spend my life pretending instead of in a padded cell somewhere, drooling from too many anti-psychotics.” Angel reached over and removed her right hand from its death grip on the wheel, holding it in his for a moment while she stayed silently still, staring at the red light. “I believe you,” his voice was soft but poured strength into her. How did he do that? Make her feel so strong with a simple touch, a few words? He made her believe that anything was possible, that maybe her life wouldn’t always be like this. “Thanks,” she finally said and turned to him staring into his deep chocolate eyes. He wanted to kiss her. The thought and need came quick and urgent. He wanted to wrap his arms around her and kiss her. Kiss her until she forgot about Xander Harris, her absent parents, the Ancient Ones, world hunger, war, the economy cri………a loud HONK broke his thoughts and he let her hand slip out of his. “Okay!” she shot back to the car behind them. She so had to get a hold of herself because if they had sat there any longer, holding hands like that, she would have kissed him. And made a complete and utter fool of herself. “My house to research but where to first?” He didn’t like her all business tone. And he was seriously considering ripping out the whole engine of the car behind them as it honked again. “I’m going,” she said to the headlights in the rearview mirror. “So?” was for Angel. She was waiting for him to tell her their stop. Great. “I have to pick something up.” “At your place? Do you have a place?” “I have a place,” what did she think, he hung out in crypts or something? “But I’m out and I need to stop for a supply,” he cringed even as the words came out. “A supply of wha….ooohhh.” Shit, he hated this. She would be totally disgusted now. He’d only drank in front of one other human and that had been Buffy and she had been revolted by the sight. And she was the Slayer. With all of the things she had seen, he would have thought…..oh well, he needed it. He couldn’t risk his strength. Not with Cordelia on the line. “So, butcher shop?” she guessed hopefully. Surely he didn’t mean something fresh. At least not fresh and walking on two legs. “Normally, yeah.” Thank goodness. But then what did he mean by normally? “But it’s too late. My supplier is closed by now. I have to get it…..somewhere else. And that‘s where you come in.” “Okay. Why don’t I think I’m going to like or want to agree with any of this?” “Because you’re not. Believe me, if there was any other choice, I would never ask you to do this.” Do what? He wasn’t asking her to…..oh no. He had said ‘pick up’ hadn’t he? Her hand fluttered to her neck quickly before she could stop herself, visions of Angel holding her, crushing her close, his face buried in her neck. She flushed, every ounce of blood rushing to her face at the erotic feelings that image brought to life within her. God, she was sick. Why would that turn her on? Angel noticed her coloring, one hand covering her throat as she drove. Christ, she thought he wanted to bite her? Well, he did. But she didn’t know that, not the part about the wanting to anyway. “No, I don’t mean you. I would never bite you,” he said to reassure himself and her. “We have to stop at this bar. Willy’s. The only problem is……” she was going to hate this, “it’s a demon bar. And tonight it’ll be packed. Most demons don’t roam on Halloween. Kind of like their night off.” Cordelia thought about what a demon bar must look like. All of Sunnydale’s midnight elite gathered in one dark watering hole. Great. Just great. And she was human, dressed like a bunny, and Angel was invisible. “Couldn’t you just grab something off the street. You don’t have to kill anyone. Just a sip or two. I read in a book once where the lead character hypnotized his victims. He didn’t kill them, just took enough to survive and sent them on their way. A little light-headed, but alive.” She was so ashamed of herself for even suggesting it. She knew she was probably tempting him to do something he had an urge to do anyway. Shoving a bottle of gin under the nose of an alcoholic. Go on take a drink. One won’t hurt you. God, she was such a jerk. Angel stared at Cordelia in disbelief. Did she know what she was saying? Well, she did know about one thing. Vampires did have special powers. At least after certain ages and only if consuming real human blood, not the preserved kind from a hospital bank, and especially not animal blood. Just over two-hundred now, he could feel some of his gifts beginning to stir. But to take from a human. Could he stop? Would he? Wasn’t it wrong? A rape in some way? “The bar is better,” was his answer. “Alright,” she said, not apologizing for the suggestion even though she wanted to desperately. “Tell me how to get there.” **** He was right. Willy’s was packed. And he’d been so nervous about taking her to the dangerous dive that he had left the weapons he’d confiscated from Giles’ in the convertible outside. Of course, when he moved to retrieve them just as they stepped into the bar, Cordelia had reminded him that they would do no good here? Right? Right. Because he was invisible to everyone and everything else in this dimension. And if anything went wrong. Well, it just wouldn’t. He couldn’t think like that. Too much of a distraction. He had given Cordelia some safe words to tell Willy. Well, safe for her. If the bartender played along, understood that he was dead if he didn’t, then she should be alright. Angel stood by Cordelia as she leaned over the counter and whispered her message into Willy’s ear, her body stretching in the outfit she wore, gaining some glances from the demons that actually went for human women. He decided at that moment that Hugh Hefner was not his favorite person and deserved no ’thank you’ for such a creation. In fact, the man should be in prison for designing such an outfit. He looked at the Slaimyn demon that was stirring in his seat and growled. The creep downed his drink and started to get up, licking his lips as he watched Cordelia pull away from Willy. Fuck! “It’s alright,” Willy announced loudly to the bar, his hands in the air as if to calm a crowd. God, he was such a bad actor. Angel just knew he was going to screw up. .“No body panic,” Willy continued, drawing more attention. “The Allu Succubus is just here for a moment. After she has what she came for she will be gone. Won’t you?” he looked at her as if he never wanted to see her back again. Cordelia heard a few demons gasp. Gasp? Demons gasped? And the quiet in the bar turned back to its original dull roar. Angel’s muscles relaxed as the Slaimyn took his seat, smiled as he saw the demon shake off a quiver. Willy disappeared behind the bar for a moment and Cordelia wanted to ask Angel what it had meant. Her message to Willy. But she didn’t dare blow whatever cover he had bought her. He had instructed her to pull up her walls as strongly as she could. Turn her fear into desperation. Maybe if they sensed it, they would think she was in desperate need of whatever she had come for. Willy sat two bottles on the counter. “That’ll by fifty bucks,” he whispered under his breath. “Fifty dollars?” Cordelia thought about her forgotten purse in her little red car. Crap, she was driving around and didn’t even have her license with her. “Tell him that I’ll consider the cover he gave you a duty. And the bottles,” Angel was leaning on the counter now, staring at Willy’s face, eager to get back fully to the real world and give him a visit he wouldn’t forget, “a personal favor.” Cordelia relayed the message and Willy flinched a little, then pushed the bottles toward her. “Thanks,” she smiled stiffly and tried not to run for the door. When they were back in the car, she asked, “So what’s an Allu Succubus?” Angel shrugged as he placed the bottles on the floorboard beneath him, trying to ignore the way his hand shook when he touched them. Christ, he was running on empty. They needed to get to her place. “Have you heard of a Succubus?” “Yes,” she answered sharply. Not liking that Willy had used a mythical - well, by the reaction at the bar apparently not mythical - creature who killed men or took their strength by having sex with them in their sleep. “Well, an Allu Succubus is it’s equivalent to demon males. They can take their power, sometimes kill them.” “Oh.” “Damn it! The weapons!” “What?” “There gone. The bag’s still here. Not that any of these thugs would want books. But….shit….we needed those weapons.” The air in the car felt thick, their mood deflated. The tension from the visit to Willy’s and the fact they were unarmed weighing heavy on them both. Silence consumed their fifteen minute drive to her home. Angel was glad really. He hadn’t wanted to risk her life. He had been almost certain that the charade would fool the demons. The crowd that hung there wasn’t the brightest of the dark-side alumni but the thought of what might have happened to her didn’t sit well with him. Suddenly he wished he had taken her advice and just nabbed someone off the street. Better to hurt them than Cordelia. He wouldn’t kill them. At least he didn’t think he would. He had never really tested the theory. Because it was wrong. People would have thought it was wrong. People like Giles and Buffy. But why should he care? What was wrong was that he had placed Cordelia in danger. All because he was afraid of himself, of what he was. More, of what she would think of him. “I’m sorry,” he finally broke the silence as they pulled into the long drive of her home. “What for?” “I shouldn’t have had you do that. Go into Willy’s. It might not have worked. And then…..I’m sorry.” “Pfft. You needed it. And I was wrong to tell you to drink from someone. I shouldn’t have tempted you like that. I know it doesn’t work like in books and movies, all neat and tied loose ends. I’m sure there are consequences to drinking from a human, and well….I’m sorry.” He’d just put her life in danger and she was apologizing? And worried about the consequences for him if he drank from someone? He didn’t know what to do with that, the feeling it created. Her concern. And were there consequences for drinking from a human? Hell yeah. Increased power, speed, abilities. He probably could control a victim’s mind after taking his first sip. Leaving them alive, unaware of what had happened. But the word victim echoed in his mind. For that’s what they would be if they had no choice. **** The house was huge. It’s stone façade and small turret on one end gave it an almost castle-like feel. It was beautiful. But an image of Cordelia roaming the big empty palace, waiting to cross the path of an Ancient, sent a chill through him.. What had it been like for her? Especially as a child? He was surprised she hadn’t spent her first eighteen years in that padded cell she had talked about. The madness of it would drive anyone crazy. Except for her. He watched her unlock and open the large front door. The house wasn’t completely dark. A sprinkling of light from a lamp here and there illuminated it enough just to see the way. He imagined that she had left them on not out of irresponsibility, but out of purpose. It wouldn’t be a good thing to come home and find an Ancient in your living room. With the lights on there would be no element of surprise to give her away. She would be prepared, able to pretend. Angel waited for her to lead him to the stairs, but she headed for a hallway stretching toward the back of the mansion instead. Probably a guest room. He’d gotten so comfortable with her he’d just assumed…..yeah. Like the two of them were going to get all cozy in her teenage bedroom. He had to remind himself that he had drug her into helping him. Not by force. But her nature had not allowed her to say no. Pulling the duffle bag up higher he paused with her outside two double doors. She opened them into a spacious suite with French doors that appeared to lead to a pool area, although the sheer curtains hid some of the view. He thought about what that view would look like when morning came, the burning alarm clock to his skin. “Well, this is it. My parents let me redo this part of the house when I turned sixteen. I like it better than upstairs.” Oh, it was her room. But it didn’t look like a teen’s room. Well, to be honest he’d only seen two teen girl’s rooms: Buffy and Willow. But theirs had been cover with posters and knick knacks and all the things collected through years of change in a young life. Cordelia’s room looked, well, like her. Mature. Stylish. The room of a woman. Comfortable enough to feel at home in but beautiful enough to be on the cover of a magazine. Yeah. Just like her. Angel tossed the bag to the floor and took out the bottles from Willy’s he had placed inside when getting out the car. “Is there a bathroom or something,” he held the bottles in his hands. “Why, are you going to bathe in it? Please tell me your not going to bathe in it.” “No! I just thought, ya know. I’d just go get it over with.” He didn’t want to disgust her. Not in this beautiful room, not as she looked at him as if he were….just a man. “Oh,” she mistook his eagerness to down the blood as quickly as possible. “Not very tasty huh? I guess it would be kind of thick and salty.” “Actually it’s…..” he broke off and tried desperately to erase the craving as he glanced down at the bottle . “I just don’t want to disgust you…..I mean…..I know it’s disgusting.” Angel was looking at the bottle like she looked at molten-chocolate cake. Oh, it was for her. He was embarrassed by what she would think of him. “Well, in theory, yeah. It does seem a little gross. But my Dad’s favorite delicacy is Hawaiian style roasted pig. I remember our trip there last summer. We had a luau and we all ate it. I mean, if you think about everything we do to take care of ourselves or feed ourselves, a lot of it is pretty disgusting. And now that I think about it, sitting around a six inch high table while the carcass of a pig is ripped apart, all the while its eyes staring lifeless into the party is a lot more disgusting than you downing a bottle of thick red liquid. Really, if you think about it, it’s not much different than a transfusion, it’s just getting inside differently.” She looked at him. The situation completely rationalized in her own mind. There it was again, that honesty. She had a knack of looking at a situation and breaking it down to basic fact. “Want a glass?” she asked as he stared at her. “Sure, thanks,” his voice was quiet and he tried to disguise the emotion that seemed to pour out with it. He was really going to drink blood in front of human. In front of Cordelia. Free of judgment. For once not feeling like a monster for what he had to do to survive. “Great, I’ll be back in a minute. I’m starving, too. Do want something else while I’m in the kitchen?” “I don’t do the food thing, don’t need it.” “Okay,” she slipped off her spiky heels and rubbed her feet before sliding them into a pair of slippers. “God, that feels so much better. I’ll be back in a minute.” Angel watched as she left. She seemed to have forgotten she still wore that damn outfit. And watching her walk away in it was even more enticing than any other view he’d had of it throughout the evening. NEXT