Go TeamC/A
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Part 2 Three Months later…
“I can understand people who drink too much. I can understand people who put a note on the parking meter that says it’s broken when it’s not.” Cordelia passed her weapon to Gunn, freeing both hands to swipe at the goo soaked strands clinging to her face. “What I can’t understand are people who worship demons.”
Speckled with squirts of demon slime, their clothes disheveled, they turned into the alley leading to the back entrance of the office.
“Yeah, especially Lu-rite demons.” Gunn agreed scrunching his nose. “What kind of stink was on that thing? If you’re a prince of the underworld…bro, visit the Jacuzzi once in a while.”
“It’s sad actually. The only way some people can find a purpose in life is by becoming obsessed with demons. By the way Gunn, technically that wasn’t a Lu-rite. It was a Mu-rite, a sub-species of the Lu-rite. The male sports a small, tell-tale fin just behind the third shoulder.”
“So glad we’re not the sad people obsessed with demons.”
“We have to be a little obsessed,” Wesley offered in their defense. “We’re detectives that specialize in these things.”
“And we’re not sad. Nope, no sadness with this slaphappy trio.” Cordelia agreed, sarcasm rolling off her tongue.
“Exactly, we’re a happy and rambunctious lot if I ever saw one.” Wesley paused, hoping but not expecting a cheer of agreement. “Not going to humor me even a little, are you?”
“Hu-uh.” Cordelia and Gunn hummed in unity.
“I realize we sacrifice a great deal of our social lives, but we have to. Our work demands it.”
“You got that right. I mean, who has time for love when you’re out there doing it with the demons?” Wesley and Cordelia stopped in their tracks, casting Gunn a leery glare. “Didn’t that come out sad and wrong? Man, I need to get out more.”
“Perhaps that would be wise.” Wesley offered unlocking the back door and pulling it open for his partners to step inside.
“Maybe you shouldn’t have turned the lights on.” Cordelia suggested, rubbing a towel over her face and hair. “We definitely looked better in the dark…well at least I did.”
“Yea, but the dark didn’t cut the stink you’re wearin’ Barbie.”
“That’s true; I don’t think I’ve ever needed a bath as much as-”
A loud clang of snapping metal and the room fell instantly silent. They stood stock still glancing one to the other, three pairs of dark brows raised in anticipation.
“Go check it out.” Cordelia practically barked when the two men remained frozen in their steps.
“Cordelia, we discussed this, and agreed…you would be in charge of this particular project.”
“You guys amaze me. You’ll fight hell-beasts without a second thought, but threatened by a rat you two are the biggest scardies I’ve ever seen.”
“Man, I hate rats. With their little beady eyes…”
“…and let us not forget their beady teeth.”
“Ooo and little tails all swoosh, swoosh.”
Dumbfounded by the men’s fear of small rodents, Cordelia shook her head in apparent surrender. Having accomplished as much clean up as she could with a dry towel, she balled it into a wad dropping it into the trash can beside Wesley’s desk as she headed for the front door.
“I’m dirty, I smell, and I’m tired. If you two want to spend the rest of the night with a rat squished in a trap…fine; I’m going home.”
Cordelia spun around to unlock the front door but released a blood-curdling scream instead when the broad frame lunged through the dark entryway.
“Damn it; what are you doing here,” she hissed, muscles stiffened in a tight clamp threatening to send her tumbling to the floor.
Stilling frazzled nerves, Cordelia spun back around striking with a scolding bluster. “Which one of my brave heroes left the front door unlocked?”
“I wasn’t the last one out.”
“The office was secure when we left.”
Their denial rang out in a collective defense, one’s excuse clamoring over the other’s.
“Well, if that’s the case it begs the question-”
Her eyes drifted to their unexpected visitor. Matthew Ryan was the epitome of tall, dark and handsome; slightly messy waves of short ebony silk sprouted from his head, and cobalt eyes set deep in a perfectly chiseled face.
They had met at a most unlikely place, Caritas; when an informant suddenly turned hostile, he had intervened unaware of the club’s magical protection against violence, offering his own brand of protection.
“Matthew, why are you here?” Cordelia had known the man for barely two months, only recently feeling comfortable with their synthetic-friendly acquaintance.
“I was worried…I couldn’t reach you on your cell phone…” His explanation met with a squint of confusion he continued, “…we were supposed to chaperone Alex and Julia.”
Crap! Remembering their forgotten movie plans, confusion slid into regret. “Did they keep their date anyway?”
“No, Julia’s mother wasn’t comfortable with them going alone.”
“I’m so sorry. It’s just-we had to-”
I take it you had one of those…” He studied her disheveled state, his graze slowing to take in the odd colored splotches on her clothes and skin. “…visions.”
“Yea, it was one of those.” There was a time such an intimately personal embarrassment would have been a devastating blow; but that seemed like a long time ago, and Cordelia wasn’t sure she even remembered the girl that would have jumped through fiery hoops to avoid social humiliation. Matthew Ryan might be the real-life version of a romance novel’s paladin but his introduction in the story had come too late to offer a ride into the sunset.***
The cover of night freeing him to travel above ground, he had waited until the office was empty and jimmied the lock restricting his invitation. His unethical search failing to turn up useful information, he quickly picked up their trail in time to witness their surprisingly skillful battle with the demon.
Shadowing their weary retreat, he moved as a predator shrouded in darkness, until her scream threatened to reveal his presence. He had almost jumped, pulling back at the last second as relief and recognition doused the smell of fear.
The building across the street offered a clear view of the dimly lit office, and situated on the rooftop he watched and waited, and contemplated this stranger’s place in the reinvented Angel Investigations.***
He jolted upright, the incessant and irritating ring of the buzzer whirring around his head. Throwing back the covers, The Host bounced from the bed, grabbing his robe as he stomped toward the club’s main entrance.
“Alright-alright--Alright already! I’m not deaf, just not open. Come back tonight and I’ll let you in…even give you a drink on the house.”
Determined, the pestiferous intruder chimed a nauseating encore. “Jeez, keep your pants on!” Lorne wailed yanking back the locks and swinging the door open. “Well that bit of caution is about three months too late.”
Of the likely visitors his predawn, befuddled brain could conjure, this one hadn’t even made it on the list. “What do you want Angel?” Lorne asked; gold-socked feet firmly planted, his rigid form blocking the doorway.
“I need advice.” The words, low and gravelly crackled from his throat.
“I warned you for weeks you were taking the wrong path; not that you ever listened to my advice.”
“You’re supposed to help people that have lost their way.”
“You didn’t lose your way Mr. Nobody Knows My Pain. You walked away from your path, threatening anyone that tried to help you. So, I’ll ask you again; why are you here? Not just here, but in LA.”
“Please talk to me.” Angel pleaded, leaning his head against the doorjamb. “I don’t know what to do…and I’m afraid of what I might do.”
His back stiffened a notch tighter hearing the alluded warning, and Lorne relented thinking lives safer with the schizo vampire inside the violence-free sanctuary. “Come on in and take a load off.”
Lorne led the way, patting his hand against the slick surface as he rounded the table. Angel taking his cue lifted the chairs to the floor, taking a seat while his reluctant host busied himself behind the bar.
“I think you mentioned something about a drink on the house.”
“Keep your pan-” Lorne’s head jerked up, his eyes locking with the two bottomless, dark orbs darting in his direction. There was no need for further reference to the fateful event, not just yet anyway.
“I’m working on it, received a little something special with my last order.” The cork twisted from the bottle’s narrow mouth with a loud pop, and the smell of human blood, fresh and intoxicating wafted into the air.
“I don’t normally serve this particular bouquet, but I think you’ll enjoy it.” Lorne offered, plopping the glasses on the table.
Angel studied the dark, crimson liquid, cursing his watering mouth as he reached past his glass picking up Lorne’s and lifting it too his mouth. “Thanks for the offer, but I think I’ll pass.”
“So Angel, what’s new with you?”***
Angel shoved against the basement door forcing the rickety lock aside. The air smelled stale and dusty, and unused, an invasive stench to unnaturally keen senses. His gaze lifted to the slightly ajar door leading into the hotel, and he trudged up the steps expecting the lobby to offer an equally suffocating welcome.
“Angel Investigations; we help the hopeless.”
“Doyle filled me in on your little mission.”
Exhausted, Angel slumped against the counter as the surge of memories washed over him and closed his eyes surrendering to the frail comfort of happier moments.
“Well, as vampires go, you’re pretty cuddly. Maybe you might want to think about mixing up the black on black look.”
“One of the perks of the job. After an all-nighter of fighting the lurking evil, we get eggs.”
“Astonishing, really. Mhm-mm. Did you say something about toast?”
“However he comes, he’s not gonna get them. These people mean a lot to me.”
“I’m getting that.”
“…The message didn’t come for Angelus; it came for you…Angel. And you have to trust that whoever The Powers That Be…be-are-is…anyway, they know the difference.”
His head swooshed from side to side in a violent shake; some memories too hard to face. Angel pushed from the counter, his eyes traveling to the staircase that would lead him to the hardest memories.
The walk upstairs was a slow surrender to his grief, and Angel wondered if this was the semblance of peace God granted to sinners facing the gallows. Too miserable to fear the next life, too tired to hold on to this one.
“The good fight, yeah? You never know until you’ve been tested. I get that now.”
Angel’s knees buckled and he grabbed the handrail stumbling over the next step. “Doyle sacrificed his life for the mission.” Angel whispered, breaths huffing in heavy pants, his chest heaving as stale air filled and left dead lungs. “His sacrifice was in vain, it only added to failures I’ll never atone for.”
“Cordelia, I'm gonna fix this…Promise. I’m gonna get you back. I need you back”
He had broken his promise, failed her in the worst way, forgotten he couldn’t protect her from himself.
“You’ve made a good choice. She’ll provide a connection to the world. She’s got a very humanizing influence.”
“It wasn’t Doyle’s fault.” Angel rasped, certain no entity of grace or forgiveness would listen to him. “How could he know he was leaving Cordelia in the hands of a monster?”
It looked like any other door, commonplace along side the row of doors lining the hallway; only those who had stood on the other side could understand why it was different. His hand reached for the knob, trembling uncontrollably; and Angel clinched it into a tight fist, pressing it against his chest.
He couldn’t go in, not yet. He was too weak, too alone to face the memories that waited on the other side.
“It’s gonna be a long while until you work your way out, but I know you well enough to know you will. And I’ll be with you until you do.”
“You have to be strong enough for both of us Cordelia.” Angel turned from the closed door and walked to the end of the hall. “You have to love me enough to forgive me…” He opened the last door, “…or hate me enough to kill me,” and walked inside.
Part 3Cordelia slid further under the blanket staving the shiver of chills fluttering down her spine. It wasn’t the unseasonably cool night, but the return of dreams that robbed her of sleep and a comfortable bed. The couch was better, it offered refuge for one; and the flood of artificial light held the bumps and creaks at bay.
The fight had been brutal to say the least. Battle skills quickly sharpened by necessity dulled by fatigue as one vision trailed another. Her struggle could have ended; a faltered step moving her into the demon’s reach, until a cool band swept around her waist, lifting and spinning her from harm.
She had walked away, unwilling to ask, too afraid to listen, and too numb to care her unconcealed dispassion would raise questions.
Why had he come back? Maybe he never left. Had he remained in LA, hiding in the shadows…watching and waiting? The incessant murmurs droned inside her head until the sleeping pills pulled her into a fitful slumber.***
Angel skulked in the shadows below, plans of watching from the balcony derailed by the bright illumination of her apartment. He had visited each night since returning to LA, spending the dark, lonely hours crouched outside her bedroom window…until tonight.
His head dropped in weary acceptance; she could find sleep only under the protection of synthetic sunlight, and he was the culprit. When Cordelia realized his intentions of moving out of the shadows and back into her light; would she meet him with acceptance or attempt to flee the city…and his pursuit?***
Eyelids fluttered open, quickly slamming shut as the shrill echoed into her drug induced sleep. “Dennis lights, too bright.” The answering machine clicked on, coaxing the phone into silence and freeing her head of its jingling ring.
“Cordelia, are you there? It’s half past noon; where are you?”
“Wesley, I’m here…sorry.”
“Cordelia, are you alright? You sound…ah-”
“No, I’m fine, just tired I guess. Are you and Gunn OK? Sorry I left last night, but-”
“No, that’s quite alright. Gunn and I are fine, just worried about you.”
“Wesley…is he gone?”
“That’s one of the reasons I’m calling. Angel has asked that we meet with him.”***
Cordelia cursed the eerie feeling of being watched. It was mid afternoon, she cursed again; no one was watching her, at least no one she needed to fear. She had been on edge for days; maybe some part of her had sensed he was close, the hair at the nape of her neck constantly bristling a warning.
Angel had shown up and she had fallen apart, proof of the small distance separating her from the past. In hindsight, stubborn refusal of counseling was probably a mistake.
“An ear for listening, a shoulder for crying…I come fully equipped.”
“You can’t help me. I have to figure out how to help myself.”
“It’d probably be easier if you would trust me?”
“Probably.”
“Then you’ll let me be your friend?”
“No.”
“Whenever you’re ready then…I’m here.”
It may have helped to tell someone, but Cordelia didn’t have to tell, he had known instantly. He had read her too easily, slipped inside her emotions and felt the suffocating death of trust and friendship. She had always considered Lorne to be Angel’s friend and advisor, and wasn’t willing to trust his pledge of confidentiality. There was one thing Cordelia had that she would now trust without question…her instinct.***
Cordelia stood inside the dimly lit club waiting for Lorne to sense her presence. She could be patient; it was only late afternoon, Caritas wouldn’t open for several hours yet.
“I’ve been expecting you.”
“Just wanted to drop off your key.” Cordelia responded, letting the small piece of metal slip from her fingers and clank against the table’s surface.
“Keep the key princess. Caritas is the one place you can come when you need to feel safe.”
“You knew he was back.” It wasn’t a question; it rode the edge of accusation.
“Yea, but not until two nights ago.” Lorne halfheartedly defended.
Cordelia hadn’t been ready to know of Angel’s return, and Lorne would deal with the guilt of keeping it from her; a small price considering he would have to tell her why Angel had returned to LA.
“So I guess safe is in the eye of the beholder. Gotta tell ya, I’m not really beholding any warm, fuzzy feelings about being safe.”
“Sit down princess and I’ll make us-”
“Stop calling me that!”
Old memories had been left behind, trapped in that room with the past; Cordelia wouldn’t allow a childish pet name to unlock the door.
“We do seem to be missing the ingredients for a good fairytale.” Lorne somberly agreed.
Past attempts at introspection blocked by a cancerous anguish so raw, pain could only reflect pain, leaving no room for anything else. Now layers of anger and obstinate survival stood like warring sentinels, and Lorne feared their breach were beyond his simple gift.
“Take a seat… princess …I’ll make us some tea and we’ll talk.”
“Tea? If I wanted to chat over afternoon tea I’d visit Wesley.”
“Shove a knife in my heart; why don’t you.” Lorne feigned a too hearty chortle. “Believe me, where my heart’s located sitting wouldn’t be an option.”
“I’ll take your word for it, cause I don’t want a Pylean anatomy lesson.”
“Fair enough. Now let me get you some of my special brew. This little specialty will blow the Brit’s high tea right out of the water.”***
Angel flipped onto his stomach, hell-bent on recapturing the sleep that had cast him out. In slumber he could smell her perfume on his pillow, feel the warmth of her body on his sheets; and he could be aroused by their redolence and not be ashamed.
“What do you want from me Angel?”
“I want you to help me get her back.”
“I read and tell people what I see. I don’t interfere.”
Angel pushed from the bed and headed from the room in search of a working shower. It would be dark in a couple of hours. He could travel through the sewers, be at their office by sunset. The sooner he stated his case, the sooner he’d have their reaction; then he could decide his next move.***
“I know Angel showing up out of the blue has scared the heebie-jeebies out of you, but if you’ll listen to me, maybe it’ll help make sense out of what happened…of what’s going to happen.”
“OK,” Cordelia gulped along with a big swig of her Pylean tea; obvious after her second cup the special brew was two-thirds bourbon.
“Angel left Sunnydale because he was convinced it was the right thing to do.”
“I was there for the maiming and the killing, Lorne; it was definitely an attention grabber.”
“I know Angel’s evil side-step in Sunnydale seemed pretty bad at the time. But looking back…does it even compare?”
“Lorne, you’re comparing what happened between Angel and me to his big love fest with Buffy…that doesn’t seem right.”
“Angel left because he could. He made a decision and he followed through.”
“So Angel’s made another decision?” Cordelia asked, confused by the muddle of information; but confusion gave her a break from fear, if only for a little while.
“No, it’s not that simple. Our brooding, and sometimes psychotic vampire has had an epiphany of sorts.”
“I can’t do that Angel. The Powers won’t allow it.”
“You don’t seem to be grasping the gravity of our situation Lorne.” Angel leaned down low, his mouth hovering a mere breath away. “If Cordelia can’t forgive me, if I can’t return to the fold, then I’ll leave; but The Powers need to understand…I won’t leave without her.”
Now was not the time to reminisce Angel’s ominous declaration and Lorne choked down the gulp caught in his throat, pulling in deep, slow breaths to calm his skittish nerves.
“Lorne, are you alright? Lorne?”
“Oh, sorry about that cupcake. Kinda faded out for a second.”
“So, Angel’s so-called epiphany?” Cordelia asked, dreading whatever answer Lorne might offer but refusing to end up with another wasted session. “What does it have to do with me?”
“He won’t leave you princess…because he can’t.”
“What kind of sense am I supposed to make out of that?” Cordelia demanded pushing up from her chair; the hard shove sounding an eerie screech as it scrubbed across the floor. Hazel eyes dark with fury and only a glint of fear glared at The Host. She flicked a thick strand of dark hair from her face, leaned down planting her fists against the table and shook the telltale shudder from her voice. “Was that supposed to be soothing, help me get a good night’s sleep? Cause I gotta tell you, it wasn’t a warm milk moment.”***
“You gotta admit, it’s odd; the vampire showin’ up like that.”
“Yes Charles, I agree; but I’ve agreed the last three times you’ve said it. Now will you please stop pacing? It’s-it’s…making me tense.”
“It’s not the pacing that’s got you wired, it’s…”
Both men looked up, gawking at the large, stoic figure filling their doorway. Eyes dark, face emotionless; he stood unreadable, waiting for their response to tell him whether to seize or surrender control.
“…him.” Gunn choked out the last of his riposte, his gaze still glued to their ill-boding visitor.
Wesley cleared his throat, dislodging the trapped air threatening asphyxiation and breaking the ghostly silence. “Angel, we didn’t hear you come in; please, have a seat.”
Angel stepped inside the small office, three short strides closing the narrow space to Wesley’s desk. He loosened the fold of his arms letting the books slide into his hands, bringing them down to hover over the heavily scratched desktop.
“These books were at…” “Just give him the damn thing and let him get the hell out!” “Don’t make me move you.” “I don’t even know what you are anymore.” “I’m a vampire. Look it up.” “I thought you guys might could use these.” Angel nodded toward the books as he reached them to Wesley.
“Yes, well thank-oh, this is the book you took when you-oh my…” Wesley stuttered and stumbled, caught ill prepared for the instant recall of Angel’s threatening demands for the text.
“Yes, of course; one can never have too many demon texts when researching…well…demons.” Good God man, get a hold of yourself. You’ve turned into a blubbering idiot. “So Angel, what brings you back to LA?”
“I left most of my things at the hotel when I left.”
“So you’re just stopping by on you way out then?”
“Not exactly.” Angel asserted, lowering himself into the offered chair, but never breaking the lock of Gunn’s cold stare.
The young man had earned Angel’s respect when they first met. Charles Gunn was often too cocky for his own good but he refused to be led by fear; driven by it maybe, but Angel could relate to that impulse.
“Angel I’m not sure why you’re here, but I think you should know we continued with the mission in your absence.”
“But you probably figured that out with that lurking thing you do.”
“Yea, but it didn’t take much lurking to read the sign.”
“Yes, well, we really haven’t been able to agree on a new name; and things have been quite busy these past few months.”
“In case you missed it, the subtext is you ran when things got tough.”
The assertion may have come from anger, but its truth remained clear; and breaking from his staring contest with Gunn, Angel ventured the only acceptable response. “I know…I’m sorry.”
“Oh, well then-”
“Charles please, sarcasm won’t help.”
“Helped me feel better, bet Cordy would enjoy it too if she were here.”
“Wes, where is C-Cor--Cordelia?” Damn it, Angel silently hissed. Wes was blubbering, Gunn was ranting; calm would give him the edge he needed to stay in control.
“Since it was unclear why you asked to meet with us, Cordelia chose not to attend. She’s had quite a lot going on these past few days and taking a night off gives her a chance to catch up on some much needed rest.”
“She shouldn’t be fighting. It’s too dangerous.” It was out; the avower had been kicking at his gut since he stepped through the door. Better to say it now while calm was his foothold than risk succumbing to his own blubbering rants.
“You think? And just why do you think the girl is fighting? Could it be we came up a man short?”
“Gunn, stop it, this isn’t helping.”
“No let him talk Wes. He’s needs to get this out, so he can move past it.”
“Fuck you! You arrogant bastard; who the hell do you think you are telling us the girl shouldn’t be fighting?”
Angel felt the rage surge up filling his chest and pushed back hard. The young man was protective of Cordelia, it was second nature for him to protect his people. But as far as Angel was concerned, Gunn would have to accept that his need for Cordelia was the only thing that mattered to him. “You pretty much summed it up.”
“Man, we know she shouldn’t be fighting, but unlike some people she don’t leave her friends in the lurch. Cordy is fighting because she believes she has to.”
“Then let me help.”
“Excuse me?” Wesley practically yelped with astonishment. Worried that Cordelia would believe the brief encounter to hold promise of Angel’s return to the mission, he had suggested that Angel most likely returned to tie up loose ends before moving on.
“Oh hell no, don’t even try it man. Ain’t nobody gonna work for you.”
“I don’t want you to work for me, I…I just want to help.”
“Everyone calm down for Heaven’s sake! Nothing will be settled by all this yelling. Now Angel, why are you here exactly?”
“I want to come back…help you fight.”
“Man you trippin. You only get to play the white hat once with me.”
“Charles, sit down and be quiet. I know you’re upset; we all are, but you’ve said enough.”
“Angel,” Wesley tried again. “It’s been almost six months since you chose…other priorities; what has changed that you would want to rejoin the team?”
“What’s changed; you know what’s changed Wes. His girlfriend was blasted back to hell on the same broom she flew in on.”
Gunn rounded the desk; he’d had enough. He’d been staking vampires since adolescence; if Angel refused to leave, he’d be just another pile of dust to sweep up. “Rumor has it you’ve got another girlfriend you can go obsess over. My advice, take the interstate it’s quicker, and for you quicker is safer.”
“What are you talking about?” Angel asked, his façade of calm quickly failing. He looked at Wesley ignoring Gunn’s suggestion that he high-tail it back to Sunnydale or face the consequences.
Wesley’s jaw dropped, fearing the meeting wasn’t likely to end on a positive note. His glare jerked to Gunn then drifted back to Angel. “I…we thought you knew.”
“Knew what Wesley?” Angel hadn’t sensed Darla since his return, but he hadn’t been able to locate her before he left or in the dozen haunts he’d staked out since leaving LA.
“There was a secret meeting held at Wolfram and Hart…we assumed you were aware of it. Darla attempted to ambush one of the high officials and the firm put a contract on her head. Darla was assassinated within the week.”
Angel rose from the chair, eyes cast down avoiding the blended stares of sympathy and aversion. Their reasons may differ, but both men expected a reaction based on personal loss, and grief, and anger. “Tell Cordelia, she doesn’t have to see me. I don’t need to be at the office to help with the visions. I won’t come here again unless you call me.”
“Angel, are you staying at the hotel?”
“I don’t know where I’ll be.” Angel turned toward the door, the space separating him from solitude now looming. “I’ll call you…let you know where I’ll be, and if you decide you want my help…” And walked out of the office onto the dark street.***
“I thought you might like to know we’re keeping the agency open. You may have turned your back on your mission, but we haven’t. Someone has to fight the good fight.”
In their eyes, he had placed saving Darla above anything else. How could he expect them to accept his misguided belief that saving her might validate his own salvation? He had offered his own existence that Darla might earn her rightful death of old age, and still he had failed to save her. Could he ask them now to believe that Darla had been merely another lost soul in his struggle for redemption?
“I’m not ready yet. Too many years spent sleeping in soft beds, living in a world where I don’t belong. I can’t fight them; not yet, but soon.
“Let them fight the good fight. Someone has to fight the war. It’s time.”
“Why so far away, my love? Why don’t you come over here and...stake me?”
“I can still feel her pain, her need, her hope. I’m too close to fight her. I’m not ready.”
He had fired them, pushed his friends away to keep them safe. Separated himself from the people he cared about so he could destroy the evil Wolfram and Hart had resurrected. At least that’s what he had meticulously convinced himself to believe. Angel wondered if given the opportunity, would he have staked Darla?
“When Wolfram and Hart take a life, they do it at a distance. I don’t have that luxury.”
“I’m not on their level. But I can get there. And when I do, I’ll be right up close. I’ll bring the fight to them.”
“But getting to the Senior Partners, that’s my destiny.”
“Is it? Because I haven’t actually featured a destiny with you in it lately.”
“If…” Angel chuckled at his still fractured perception. Instead of destroying Darla and Drusilla, he gave them free reign over the city he had been charged with protecting. Blamed Wolfram and Hart for his torment and indecision; and went after them with a bloodlust vengeance that would make his second creator proud.
Evil had consumed him for centuries, his glorified epithet as white knight often oppressive and unmerciful. Eyes wide shut, he had easily slipped, following Darla’s dark, wicked path again. But how could he have imagined the catastrophic repercussions of his orchestrated reprise?
He had trudged the dark streets and desolate alleys for hours, purpose and direction constantly deluding; and bone tired from his endless plod of haunting memories he sought refuge in the grim and lonely hotel.
Angel walked past the locked door, narrowed intent focused on the illusory asylum waiting inside the last room. He wouldn’t visit Cordelia tonight; discipline had been weakened by need, and need fueled by hunger.
“You need to wake up, get your head clear. You might still be enjoying fantasies of Darla and the good ole days, but you’ve stumbled across the wrong girl. I don’t want to play in your games. If you think I’m going to be the good little victim, help you out during your dark time, you’re wrong…the wrongest you’ve ever been.”
“Make me warm. We can pretend we made love. We can pretend you still love me.”
“I can’t…I don’t know how.”
Patience was Angel’s mantra now; he had survived a different hell to come back for her, and would not fall at the last steps of his journey.
“I’m not ready.”
Part 4“I still say the vamp is trippin’-I mean look at the evidence man, he walked in there like nothing had changed.” His eyes remaining glued to Wesley, Gunn walked from the kitchen reaching out the glass clutched in his hand.
Cordelia stretched up and snatched the offered drink, pretending she had missed Wesley’s disapproving glance. Fatherly she didn’t need right now. Right now she needed alcohol and courage, and planned on satisfying both. Well maybe one more than the other, she reconsidered after taking a big gulp that made her eyes roll back.
“Even so, I think we have to consider Angel’s physical contribution. It would allow Cordelia the option of participating when we fight.” Wesley responded stroking his chin. An act Cordelia had witnessed a hundred times over, but found it suddenly irritated the hell out of her.
And what will I do with all that free time; practice manicures in the dark while huddled in the closet? Damn, where are the good ole days when all I had to worry about were sleazy casting directors and making the rent on a roach-infested apartment? “I think...I might agree with Wesley...maybe.”
“As long as you’re sure Barbie. Don’t jump to a decision.”
“Bite me Gunn, and this Long Island Tea is good; you might have missed your calling... maybe.” Cordelia added after a well timed pause, and flashing Gunn a wily grin.
“I believe Cordelia may be approaching the situation more realistically.”
“About me being a bartender?”
“No Charles, focus.” Wesley pinched the bridge of his nose, shifting his stance so both friends could witness evidence of his impending breakdown.
“Yea Charles, focus before dad puts you in time-out.”
“Half a drink and you’re sloshed girl.”
“That’s me, one drink Cordy.” No need to mention the two rum and cokes I had before they got here. “Every man’s dre...never mind.”
“So we’re agreed, a trial period to see if the arrangement will work.”
“No man, we ain’t agreed on anything.”
“Well you better decide quick cause I’m in no shape to be swinging deadly objects if a vision should...CRAP!” The ice clinked against the sides of the glass, her body shaking uncontrollably as the vision hit.
“Cordelia, a vision?” “Barbie, you OK?” The two men frantically questioned as they took the drink from her hand and helped her stretch out on the couch.
“Yes…and no,” Cordelia answered when speaking without drooling became possible. “That old factory near Gunn’s hangout. I don’t know what they are, but it’s happening now.”
“I’m calling Angel.” Wesley announced as he covered Cordelia with a blanket, quickly tagging on, “I’ll simply tell him of the vision, it’s his choice whether he accompanies us,” when Gunn cast him a disgruntled glare.
“Fine, just don’t expect me to roll out the welcome mat.”
“Wouldn’t consider it.”***
Angel leaned against the brick wall, lost in thought until the shrill broke through shattering the rare moment of peaceful meditation. Eyes squeezed shut, he slipped the intrusive mechanism from his coat pocket.
The uncomfortable clearing of a throat grunted into his ear, a clear indication of his caller. “Angel? It’s Wesley; are you there?”
“Wes,” husked into the phone. Vocal chords crusty from lack of use, Angel’s voice was gruff, the name sounding harsh in its delivery. Why talk when no one was there to listen? His short sessions with Lorne required little verbalization on his part, the anagogic demon nervously monopolizing the conversations, afraid of truths waiting to be revealed.
“Uh yes…Cordelia had a vision; demons breaking into a warehouse and attacking the occupants. Cordelia thinks it may be the old factory at Elden and Tenth. We’re headed there now, Gunn’s worried his people might already be there.”
“I’ll meet you there.”
“Very good then,” and with a click the line was silent.
His attention drifted up to the welcoming dark of the balcony, the dim glow from the small bathroom window conjuring images of a hot soak surrounded by flickering candles. Angel considered the lapse of minutes since Wesley’s call and leaped onto the platform, not even the air disturbed as he crouched down in his usual spot.
Swift elimination of the demon threat would aide his cause, but he couldn’t risk a violent display if raw emotions broke through. Unsure of his control, he had stayed away; but tonight, waning control had shifted direction and Angel needed to soothe the rising ache. Hunger needed to be appeased, as much as allowed; then he would face the demons, and old friends on the battlefield.***
Wesley hadn’t called, which meant Angel had agreed and Cordelia’s inebriated brain wouldn’t have to remember basic fighting maneuvers. More important, Angel’s whereabouts were not a source of concern…at least for a little while.
Cordelia sank into the creamy bath, her small mass sloshing the hot water and suds until completely submerged inside the velvety cocoon.
“This socializing thing is brutal. I mean, I was young once. I used to go to bars. It wasn’t anything like this.”
“It’s got to keep trying to make a connection. Because that’s what lonely people do.”
The bottom of the tub, warmed by the scalding water, felt slick against her bare bottom; and lifting the half empty glass to her lips, Cordelia slipped further into the therapeutic mixture.
“I scared her. Am I intimidating? Do I put people off?”
“It’s still in me, Cordelia. And sometimes they change back. If the day ever comes that I…”
“Oh, I’ll kill you dead.”
“Yea right, I just sent my friends out to play with a homicidal monster so I could soak in a hot tub without worrying where said homicidal monster might be lurking.” Cordelia mumbled as her eyes fluttered shut; a distant warning hummed inside her head, something about sedatives and alcohol making an unhealthy potion.***
“So, what’s the plan?” Angel asked joining Wesley and Gunn with a leap onto the loading dock, grateful dead lungs concealed his urgent rush for a timely arrival.
“There was no time for research. Cordelia felt the danger was imminent.”
“What’s to research? Demons, they’re bad, they’re ugly, and they need to die.” Gunn concluded, swinging his trusty axe over his shoulder and jerking the loading door up.
“Put a sock in it Charles.” Wesley quipped following Gunn’s lead.
“Whoa English, snark; I’m impressed.”
“Just didn’t want you missing Cordelia too much.”
“Still, that was a good one.”
Angel laid back, content to fill his allotted role as backup, a tinge of envy tugging at the camaraderie between the two men. He had given up any right to be included, walked away foolishly believing even with a soul his demon didn’t need it. And he could live without their trust and friendship, Angel surmised, quickly banishing the envious tug. There was only one thing he couldn’t live without and he wouldn’t allow less important needs to get in his way.***
“Just pull over here.” Cordelia barked at the cabdriver, throwing a twenty into the front seat before shoving the door open and lunging for the sidewalk. Interruption of sleep before the effects of alcohol and pills wore off blurring her focus, Cordelia gave her head a vigorous shake as she hurried toward the emergency room entrance.
“Charles Gunn was brought in a few minutes ago. He’s being treated for a stab wound.”
“And your relationship with the patient?” The nurse asked, not bothering to look up from her computer screen; years of emergency room duty numbing her to visitors’ anxious sputtering.
“He’s my brother.”
“I see,” was the reply when a glance questioned the truth of her statement, the light bronze of her skin obviously sun induced. “Your brother is in exam room seven, down the hall and to the left.”
“Thanks.”
Cordelia watched from the doorway, Gunn’s chest rising and falling with shallow breaths of peaceful sleep.
“It’s how you live your life. You don’t just face danger, you create it. You’re on a self destruct mission unless you get some help.”
“You need some serious saving. Looks like I’ve got my work cut out for me.”
The sentiment may have been true at one time, but not now. Cordelia had learned the real Charles Gunn under the best and worst circumstances. He was sometimes too brave but always cunning, and the fight must have been vicious for him to end up in the emergency room.
“I’m not leaving your side until I know you’re safe. Better plan on having me in your life for a while.”
“OK, so you’re feeling guilty. Suck it up girl, now is not the time for a pity party.”
“Barbie?”
“Hey. Somebody woke me up in the middle of the night to tell me my hero had a booboo…so I rushed right over.” Cordelia stepped inside but left the door open, assuming Wesley was probably dealing with doctors and release forms.
“Yea, sorry about that; I told Wes not to wake you. Nothin’ to fret over, hardly a scratch.”
“I can see that. It’ll take more than a pesky old demon to take down the mighty Gunn.”
“Uh, actually…the demon didn’t stab me.”
“Then who did? Oh my God, not-” Guilt-Guilt-Guilt
“It was Rondell.” Gunn reluctantly admitted. It had been bad enough, taking down the weird looking demons while keeping one eye on the distrusted vampire watching his back, but to be wounded by one of his own men was more than Gunn cared to confess.
“Rondell-it was Rondell! My beauty sleep was interrupted-I’m wallowing in guilt because Rondell got jab happy?”
“Calm down girl, my man’s feeling bad enough as it is.”
“Well he should be, upsetting me like that.” Cordelia smiled, leaning down to place a quick kiss on Gunn’s forehead and blow a soft sigh of relief.
“Whoo girl; did you drink a bottle of minty fresh?”
“I gargled, if that’s what you mean.” Cordelia defended, lifting up and tilting her face away. “I’d been sleeping; I wasn’t coming to the hospital reeking of morning breath.” …and stale liquor.***
Angel waited across the hallway…watching and listening. He missed the softness of Cordelia’s touch when she would patch his wounds, the warmth of her hands gently patting his cheek then the whispered you’ll feel better after a good night’s sleep.
“Ah Angel, you’re still here.” Wesley announced, surprise evident in his voice.
“Just waiting for you to get back, make sure everything is OK.”
“Gunn is fine. A couple of cracked ribs but the puncture wasn’t deep enough to reach a lung.”
“That’s good. Guess I’ll be going then, if you don’t need anything else.”
“You’re welcome the join us Angel.”
“No…I’m not. This is for friends…family.” The concession stuck in his throat, threatening to cut off a lifeless breath. “I don’t want to intrude.”
“Very well then, I’ll see you tomor… Later then.”
“Yea, later. Goodnight Wes.” Angel abruptly turned making his way toward the exit. Sunrise was only a few hours away; and he needed to make a stop before going back to the hotel, otherwise Cordelia would be getting a late night visitor.***
Lorne struggled with his robe, a medley of curse words spewing from red lips when his toe rammed against the chair. He shook a green fist at the door, no need asking the frantic rapper to identify himself.
“Out for a moonlit stroll Angel?”
“I don’t trust myself right now.”
“Come on in.” Lorne ushered with a sweep of his arm. “I’ll get the bottle.”
“Have you talked to her?”
“We’ve had a couple of powwows. Shared a little teatime.”
“Lorne,” the growl rumbled up his esophagus pushed out by the urgent confession trailing it. “I need to touch her. I can’t be this close and not touch her.”
“Angel, that’s not going to happen any time soon. At least not in a good way.” Lorne advised, his warning rattling with panic.
“Talk to her Lorne.” Angel rasped, downing his drink in a long session of swallows before rising from the table. “I want to see her.” The force of his insistence slapped against the door rippling back into the room. “And without her entourage.”
“The first time Mr. Tall Dark and Rockin’ graced my establishment it was all about the coat. Oh, the good ole days; where did they go?”***
The chamber felt massive, dwarfing his generous height. He clutched the small, stone-carved figure, fearful the tight grip of his fingers would crush it.
“You dare to enter these sacred chambers without summons lower being.” The ominous voice commanded as the two oracles rose up from the center of the chamber floor in a mist of blue flame.
“Yikes! I am Lor…I am Kre…” I’m the ninny who thought this was a good idea.
“We know who you are.”
“I seek-”
“We know what you seek.”
Of course you do. You are the know it alls after all. “He’s no good to you like this. Angel’s a champion at heart, he’s just lost his way.”
“This vampire with a soul, he was sought out was he not; granted the scroll of Aberjian?”
“But the evils of his world move against him, their forces too strong for him to fight alone.”
“Alone? Was he not granted a connection to our realm?”
Holy Moly what was I thinking? “Look, let’s cut the toga dialect and get down to some good old fashion street lingo. Yes the jackass was told about his destiny, and yes you sent him a seer that was faithful and true, and-”
“The end of days have begun.” The male oracle lifted a hand silencing thought of further protest. “Soldiers of darkness stand ready. The balance shifts, and he is not a champion. We shall not convene on his behalf again.”
“But-”
“Do not come to us again, Krevlorneswath of the Deathwok Clan; your presence will not be greeted with compassion.”
And with the strike of his hand, the male oracle vanished amidst the fiery blaze of blue flames.
“You seek guidance for the one that has fallen?” The female oracle remained, the blaze dwindling to a iridescent mist.
“Yes! I seek guidance. Bless you sister gold.”
“And you have brought a gift?”
“A gift? Yes a gift!” Lorne shouted, shoving the rock-hard figurine at the female oracle. “Beowulf, a myth of the ancient human world. A king who defended his people from the fate of a dragon, giving his life that theirs may flourish.”
The female oracle studied the small statue, turning it over in her hand. “And there is a connection between the gift and that which you seek?”
“Maybe a tiny one.” Lorne answered scrunching his shoulders and gracing the female oracle with a sly grin. “Predestined fate does not a hero make. If you get my meaning.”
“I do not; but no matter, for the gift has meaning to you and those you care about. The curse imprisons the evil one, but the soul is without shackles.”
“As in not bound, but if Angel loses his soul…”
“The soul is without binds, only by choice can it be bound to this world. The vampire must choose or the darkness will devour.”
OK, Miss Solid Gold Dancer, I don’t think you’re getting the gist of our current peril. The vampire with a soul, bound or not, has decided and he’s gonna send the rest of us to hell in a hand basket if we get in his way.
“There is but one truth. Lead them wisely Krevlorneswath of the Deathwok Clan. Evil lives never-ending and strives to embrace those who hold the power to destroy it.”
The flames again blazed a fiery heat, the surge throwing Lorne free of the chamber. He tumbled onto the ground, yelping as knees and elbows scraped across the asphalt. “Heavens to Murgatroid, exit stage left.” Lorne yammered picking himself up and dusting off his gold lame’ suit.***
“Here,” Cordelia scoffed, shoving the cup of freshly brewed coffee at Gunn. “You’ve finagled all the TLC you’re gonna get from that little nip.”
“Little nip!” Gunn protested, grasping his side and feigning unbearable pain. “It’ s a gash, a deep, near-fatal gash.”
“Yea right; well that near-fatal gash didn’t stop you from bowling with the guys last night.”
“How did you know-Wes!”
“Leave me out of this.” Wesley quietly ordered, waving a hand in the direction of their squabble, but keeping his attention fixed to his book.
“Don’t blame Wesley. I know because I’m Cordelia Chase and I see all, know all.”
“You ain’t right girl.”
“Maybe not, but I’m leaving. I promised Alex and Julia I’d meet them at the movie theatre by eight o’clock, world annihilation notwithstanding.”
Grabbing her purse she rushed to the door before movie plans could be thwarted a second time. “So suck it up Gunn, you’re officially back on full duty.” Cordelia spun around charging though the doorway until a mishap with déjà vu brought her to a screeching halt.
“Holly crap!” Cordelia stumbled back into the office, the hulking form pursuing every step. Realization that the collision was not with Matthew Ryan freezing clenched muscles, locking them into place.
“Cordelia.” Angel whispered, hands cinching into tight fists as he willed them to remain inside his coat pockets. “I haven’t heard from Wes in three of days, just wanted to make sure everyone was alright.”
“We’re fine Angel.” Wesley answered, suddenly losing interest in his book. “And yourself?”
“Fine thanks,” Angel mumbled, dark eyes melting into Cordelia until she could feel the burn on her skin. “Gunn, you feeling better?”
“Yea I’m good, and I’m over here.” Gunn waved his hands in the air calling out, “a little to your right,” when Angel failed to actually notice him.
Heart pounding and head spinning, droplets of perspiration trickling across her forehead, Cordelia marveled at The Powers’ seeming determination to test her heart’s physical endurance.
The tilt of Angel’s torso descended another discernible degree but the position of his feet remained firmly rooted in place. “Did Lorne talk to you?”
Angel’s whispered breath blew against her cheek, releasing a flood of memories Cordelia was ill prepared to deal with. “Uh…yea…yesterday,” stammered past trembling lips.
“Then we’ll talk soon.” Angel whispered again. Remaining face-forward, he stepped back toward the door, careful to ensure she was beyond reach before slipping his hand out of his pocket and lifting it to flutter the warm air teasing her cheek. “It was good to see you…Cordy.”
And like a pulse of soft wind, a swirl of translucent smoke, Angel was gone; leaving the doorway empty and an unobstructed view of the dark blue jeep parked at the curb.
“Cordelia, what was Angel referring to?”
“Nothing important, I’m late; we’ll talk tomorrow.” Cordelia dashed out the door and jumped inside the jeep, willing herself to smile at her chaperone partner, semi-date.***
“Uh Wes; what just happened here?”
“I’m not sure, but I don’t think I like it.”
“Well, let’s go then.”
“Go where?” Wesley asked suddenly even more confused.
“To talk to Mr. Green Jeans and find out why he’s having secret meetings with Cordy.”
“No one said anything about secret meetings, and we’re not sneaking behind Cordelia’s back.” Wesley insisted. “She’ll tell us when she’s ready.”
“And if she don’t.” Gunn asked not sure if Cordelia would confide in them, but more than sure he didn’t trust Angel.
“Then we’ll sneak.”***
“Sister, why do you torment your heart with matters of these lower beings?”
“It is not my torment that saddens my heart, dear Brother.”
“My patience grows weary with your dalliance in the lives of these ill-evolved creatures. Soon your indulgence in their meaningless existence shall find an end.”
“Dalliance, indulgence Brother; is the capacity to embrace the pains of heartache and sorrow our forfeiture for a higher existence in eternity? I think me unwilling to offer that sacrifice.”
“Speak no more of such blasphemies. You are a romantic my dear Sister and therefore allow your perfection to be marred by these mortals.”
“And you are ofttimes less than the vampire you so ardently condemn.”
“Very well, let me take care that I shall not copiously sweep the vampire and his human companions into oblivion. Salvation of the fallen one may be the seer’s gift; but should she fail, destroying the evil that dwells within shall be her duty. The seer has not yet proven herself worthy of our protection.”
“The warrior and seer seek enlightenment with The Delphian of the Pylea dimension, and I have placed in his heart the truth that shall light their path.”
“You are but a foolish girl Suadela, weakened by your love for these wayward creatures as I am weakened by my love for you.”