Go TeamC/A
Act II
Scene 1Wesley and Gunn were waiting in Angel’s office to deliver the bad news about Cordelia. At least Wesley was. Gunn was just there for the show. Telling a demon that his killer girlfriend was about to die promised to be a most entertaining afternoon. Yessiree. Bring on the justice. Bring on the pain.
“We’ve got to be strong and united in this, Gunn. He’s going to be extremely angry and in a great deal of denial. We can’t back down.”
Wesley was pacing as usual. Doesn’t he know how weak he looks? Gunn was sitting behind Angel’s desk in his chair, feeling right at home. “Yeah, yeah. I know the game plan, Wes. But if he even looks at me funny…”
“What are you saying? You’ll put him down like a dog?” Wes stopped pacing and looked at Gunn like he’d never seen him before.
“Hey, I’m just saying I’m not going to be the messenger that gets shot, man. He steps on my foot, I bite his leg off.” Gunn rose to his full height and then some letting Wesley know whose territory Wes was trying to piss on.
Wes didn’t flinch at the aggressive posture, but he didn’t advance either. “We’re talking about Angel and we’re talking about letting the woman he loves die. I suspect he will look at us very funny at first. But I hope he will eventually understand and accept the truth of what’s best. Until then, we will need to be patient and tread carefully around his feelings.”
“I’m not treading around anybody’s feelings. If I see…”
Suddenly the door burst open and a frenetic, wild-eyed Angel flew in.
“Jesus, I’ve been looking for you guys everywhere. Cordy spoke to me! She’s back!”
Wesley looked at Gunn bewildered and then looked back at the exuberant Angel. Gunn just looked disappointed.
Scene 2Lorne and Fred were already standing outside Cordy’s door when Angel, Wes and Gunn rounded the corner running.
“Are the doctors still in there?” Angel asked worriedly.
“Yes. They said we should wait here until they can assess her condition.” Fred looked at Angel with a mixture of apprehension and joy. A fair complement to his impatience and…well…more impatience.
“What’s to assess? She spoke.”
“Angel what did she say exactly?” So far Angel hadn’t been very clear about what happened and Wesley feared Angel was delusional.
“I was showing her some clothes in a magazine and she said ‘that shirt’s nice’.”
“Uh-huh. Did she actually speak those words or did you just hear them?”
“Well I heard them so she had to say them, right? I mean it was her voice.” Wesley just stared at him with his disbelief apparent. “Wes, I know her voice! I didn’t imagine it.”
Angel turned and towered over Fred as he made a move for the door handle. Wesley’s hand shot forward and grabbed his wrist.
“We should let them do their job, Angel. If you’re right, then Cordelia has only just come back from a horrible ordeal. We can’t be sure how much she remembers and how those memories are affecting her right now. They may need to sedate her.”
Wes let go of his wrist as Angel’s shoulders slumped. “Angel, I know what you think you heard.” Angel jerked his head up and was ready to argue, but Wesley cut him off. “But the fact is that her condition has, over the past weeks, deteriorated dramatically. I think you should be prepared for bad news. Or, at the very least, cautiously optimistic news.”
“What are you saying? She’s back! She came back and she’s not going anywhere ever again. I won’t let her. Do you understand that? Do all of you understand that?”
The gang looked at each other uncomfortably and tried to avoid Angel’s eyes, except Gunn who was quietly enjoying this. “We understand what you want to happen. But MRIs and blood tests don’t lie. Cordy is dying and ain’t nothin’ you can do to stop it. So you can stand there and act like nothing’s wrong from now ‘til Roseanne wins an Oscar, but that ain’t gonna change facts.”
You could almost feel the blood in Angel’s veins boiling. The air got suddenly thick and humid. Angel snorted like a bull, took two steps and was nose to nose with this man he didn’t know. A growl hung at the back of his throat and he heard Gunn growl in response.
Angel was caught off-guard for an instant, but then the realization dawned on him. He had sensed something different about Gunn for a while now, but he couldn’t put a name to it. He still wasn’t sure what had happened to him or when, but he was sure now that Gunn was fundamentally changed. What he sensed about him was pure animal. Feral animal. Some part of Gunn was no longer human and that didn’t bother him as much as it might have before. It made it easier.
“Cordelia will not die. I don’t care what MRIs, blood tests or doctors say. She. Will. Not. Die. I won’t let her. WE won’t let her, and if you can’t be a part of that, you can leave.”
Gunn wanted to stake this asshole right there. Arrogant demon. Thinks he has the power of life and death. Later, baby. We’ll party claw to fang and hot damn, I’ll have me some fun. It killed him to back down, but he couldn’t do anything yet. So for now he’d better smooth things over if he could choke down the bile rising in his esophagus long enough to spit the words out. He broke the staring contest and looked down in an act of sublimation. “None of us want her to die.”
“Angel, Charles is just…we all just want you to be prepared. You know. If something happens.” Angel turned from Gunn to Fred fearing another traitor. Fred jumped and added quickly, “But, of course, nothin’s gonna happen because Cordy’s strong and brave. She’s a fighter and we’re all going to fight for her. Please, can’t we just be happy right now? Please?” Fred wanted so badly to calm the situation down. We’re all going to be together again. Cordy will bring us all back together again. She has to.
The tears were beginning to form in Fred’s eyes and Angel knew her plea was genuine. The tenseness in his body gradually eased as he looked from Fred to Lorne. He looked as upset as Fred, and Angel began to feel guilty for his outburst.
“I’m sorry. I know you guys are only concerned for Cordy and me. I just don’t think it’s going to do her any good if we don’t have faith in her. Ya know? I know she’s got a long way to go to get back from this, but we can’t be negative around her. She’ll sense any doubt, and she doesn’t need to deal with our worries on top of everything else she’s got to deal with. Okay?”
“Of course. You’re right. We should all be as positive as possible around her.” Wesley relented for now. At least until the doctors came out and confirmed what he already knew to be true. The rest nodded and muttered in agreement.
Angel turned to Gunn who stood motionless. “Gunn?”
He looked up at the vampire and locked gazes. “Sure. Anything for the princess.”
There was something about the way he said “princess” (was that sarcasm?) that sent a chill up his spine. Angel would definitely not be turning his back on Gunn anytime soon.
The tension only increased when somebody’s pager started buzzing wildly.
Scene 3"Dammit, Dennis. Why isn't it working? I was sure it would."
"I'm sorry, Cordelia. Maybe you should check to see what's happening."
"What? Huh? Oh, for crap's sake. I totally forgot I can do that. Must be your bound-to-one-home ghost ick rubbing off on me. Remind me to get you unbound as soon as I'm in my body again."
"No, please don’t. I don't want to be unbound. I want to stay with you."
"Silly, I meant unbound to this apartment. Of course, you'll come with me. I couldn't live without you."
She could feel his blush and surrounded him with her essence to hug him. It was weird, but it worked.
"Don't go anywhere. I'll be right back."
Scene 4Buzzzzz. Buzzzzzz. Buzzzzzz.
“I'm sorry, but there's been no change. At least not for the better."
Angel blinked in disbelief and then spoke through clenched teeth. "But, she spoke to me. I heard her!"
The doctor was very intimidated by the boss, but more concerned about what that vamp would do if any harm came to his patient. So he straightened his shoulders and prayed he could make his case.
“I can't say for sure she didn't speak, but none of our tests can confirm it. Her condition has not improved and, in fact, there are some indications that she’s worse. Her vitals have slipped to an alarming degree." He fully expected the demon to break his neck and apparently the others did, too, since a few of them grabbed his arms in a timid attempt to rein him in.
Cordy was surrounding all her family now and would have felt pure joy if not for the irritating little doctor man blowing snow out his ass. “Please, stop with the doom and gloom. I’m right here you rheological retard.”
Angel wanted to kill him, but something in him snapped. It was the tether that he'd had bound around his hope that broke. He slumped and might have actually fallen if he hadn't felt Lorne and Fred's hands supporting him.
Buzzzzzz. Buzzzzzzz. Buzzzzzz.
"Who's pager is that? Would somebody turn that bloody thing off!" Wesley whispered loudly. The sound didn't seem to be affecting Angel, but it was driving him over the edge.
After some panicked searching by the various members there, the offending object was finally found.
"Sorry. That's mine. I'll turn it off. Sorry."
“Noooo!! Don’t turn it off. Answer it! Well, hell’s bells. Has Wolfram & Hart mind fucked you people?” When no one answered her simple question, she gave up Plan A. “Dennis, we’re moron challenged here. Charge up Plan B.”
An interminable silence fell after all the fumbling about with pager checking. It all went completely unnoticed by Angel. Finally, Lorne quietly broached the impasse.
"Doctor, can I go in?"
The doctor looked at Lorne and then at Angel seeking his permission to allow it. "Well, I have no objections if…"
"Angel? Do you mind? I need to check something out. I'll be just a minute."
Angel was still a bit dazed by the idea that Cordy might actually leave him, so he just automatically nodded his consent. The doctor stepped aside to let Lorne pass and Angel caught a glimpse of her chest falling as air left her body. He didn't want that to be the last image of her that he saw.
Scene 5Angel sat in his luxurious new pad just a short sewer hop from the W&H building. It felt strange here still, definitely not a home, and the only thing that made it feel normal was the sketchpad and pencil in his hands.
He had only seen Connor with his new family that one time. He’d wanted to go back every day, but he knew it would only make it more and more difficult to leave him there. As the days turned into weeks, it did get easier. But he never forgot. I don’t even have a picture of him. Which is why he drew sketches of him.
He spent every waking hour at home sketching Connor and Cordelia. Not and Cordelia. Not them together. A sketch of Connor separate from a sketch of Cordelia. Never in the same drawing.
Damn. Why did I have to go there? Why do I have to have a photographic memory? He knew logically what had happened. He didn’t blame either one of them. Cordy wasn’t Cordy and Connor was just a horny teenager who fell in love with a beautiful woman that showed him kindness. Hell, he had too, so he could see how it could happen. He wasn’t angry or hurt by it anymore. It was just the picture of it in his mind that he couldn’t let go of. Cordy with another man. It was the beast in him. That territorial, alpha male, macho crap that was in his blood, and he couldn’t wash it out of him with transfusions.
But now it didn’t matter. Connor was gone and soon she would be, too. Just when he'd felt the most hope he’d had in months, life showed him just how undeserving he was.
"Angel, sweetums. I don't know how to tell you, but…she's not there anymore. She's gone."
Lorne was broken. Only a few hours ago he was Mr. Broadway and now he was just a weeping Pylean in hell with no music.
The image he had glimpsed through the door was what he had drawn as soon as he sat down. It was too painful to keep locked in his mind. The lines defining her form on the page were dark and much too solid. She wasn't solid any more. He needed to erase them. Make them wispy and barely there. She needed to fade into the negative space more.
The sketch was just as still and lifeless as her body. Devoid of depth and strictly two-dimensional. And so was his thinking. All he thought about was his pain and loss.
But, truly what had Cordy lost? A working body? Life? Her family? No, if he actually went deeper than the surface he knew in his heart she hadn't lost anything. She was so much better off without him and certainly better off without all the fighting. The only thing of substance that was missing was the closeness of those who loved her and whom she loved. But she wouldn't be without her family forever, and most would be joining her much sooner than later. But can I live without her until… Can I live without her?
Scene 6As soon as Fred reached her office she dropped into her chair, let her head fall into her crossed arms on the desk and bawled. Yes, she was officially the crybaby of the group, but somehow she’d managed to keep it together in front of Angel. She didn’t think he could sink any deeper, but then she witnessed him slide into the earth’s core before her very eyes when Lorne told him the news.
It really didn’t matter any more. Nothing did. Their family was destroyed and Cordy wouldn’t be able to put it back together again. Fred wanted to desperately, but they didn’t listen to her like they did Cordy. Cordelia was intimidation personified and Fred knew she could never measure up like that. Hell, I’d be lucky if they listened to me about the time of day. How can they think I’m so smart and so stupid at the same time?
The sound of the phone ringing so close to her ear was enough to stop her heart and self-flagellation. She pulled up quickly and swiped at her drenched cheeks. Sniffling, she tried to calm herself before answering. Well, isn’t this just a fine pigs’ sty you’re wallowin’ in, Missy? Cordy’s dyin’ and you’re feelin’ sorry for yourself. Stop it, this instant! One more wipe of the eyes and then her hand lifted the handset from its cradle.
“Winifred Burkle speaking.” When no one answered her, she tried again. “Hello. This is Winifred Burkle. Is anybody there?” She was about to hang up in irritation when she heard the tones. She put the phone back to her ear and listened for a second. Just more tones. Like someone trying to dial another number.
“C’mon Fred. You’re the frickin’ math genius. Puzzle girl extraordinaire. Get a clue.” Cordy pleaded.
“Hellooo? You’ve got to hang up before you start dialing again. I’m still on the line. Helllloooooo?” The only response she got was more annoying tones from some dimwit trying to dial again. “Okay. I’m hanging up now. Goodbye.”
“I don’t believe this. A little girl’s life is in the balance and she’s being polite to a wrong number. Dennis! Call again.”
When she hung up she noticed her message light was on. “Great. Probably some emergency in Computational Portal Advancements. Just what I need today. To get sucked into another swirling vortex to hell.”
“Can’t say I blame ya there. Had one of those today myself. Dennis!! Are you listening to me?”
The phone rang again just as Fred was about to check her voice mail. “Hello, this is Winifred Burkle.” Again, nothing but someone dialing.
“That’s my boy. Keep it up.”
“Okay, this isn’t funny whoever you are. I’ve had a really bad day so far and I don’t need this kinda grade school crap right now. If you don’t stop calling, I’m going to trace this call and use my considerable scientific and anatomical knowledge to ram a cattle prod right up your ass.”
“Dammit, Fred! This isn’t a prank. It’s deadly serious. And thanks for the nice torture visual. Dennis, one more... Stop, wait a minute.”
Fred had picked up the phone to check her voice mail. The first message was from Knox. Something about a technical screw up with a hand-held dimensional sequencing thingamabob. Yada yada yada, who cares.
The second was from Wesley telling her about a meeting in Angel’s office in thirty minutes. Will this day never end? I don’t think I can take another emotional meltdown.
The third was another one from the pranky boys and when she heard the tones her last nerve sizzled. Those dialing digits were about the meet the sharp end of a Troilan Triblade. She slammed the phone down.
“Fred, no!! Listen to the sounds. Please, please. It’s the same every time. I know you can figure it out. Please, Fred.”
Fred picked up the phone again.
“Yes! There ya go. Listen again.”
She dialed a few numbers and started barking orders. “This is Winifred Burkle, Head of the Science Division. I need a number traced ASAP. Two calls were made to this number within the last fifteen minutes...uh-huh...yeah, that’s real sad. But I don’t give a flying monkey’s ass whose mother just died. I want to know exactly who made those calls, and I want to know now!” She slammed down the phone and headed for the restroom knocking her chair over in her whirlwind exit.
“Ooookkkkaaayyyy. Again with the nice visual. Not what I had planned, but this could work just as well. As long as she recognizes the address and as long as the phone trace guy is as scared of her as I am right now.”
Scene 7Gunn had left the wake outside Cordelia’s tomb and trotted straight to his fortress for some rejuvenation. No matter how long between visits, the sensation was as strong as the first time he stared into those eyes. Clarity born of purity. The pure white of the room and the pure black of the panther. All colors of the spectrum create white, and black is born of the absence of all light. All consciousness creates life and lack of consciousness marks death.
There is no gray as long as the white and black never mix. The white thinks. The black feels. As long as you don’t mix feelings with thinking, everything remains pure. Pure hunger. Pure vision. Pure power. Pure purpose. Pure white. Pure black. Pure right. Pure wrong. Man that was deep. Guess the homeboy’s got depths after all.
Ever since he fell into the eyes of the cat (or whatever the fuck happened), Gunn was the man he wanted to be. A cat? Whaddup with that? Shoulda been a dog, ya know? But, hey. Cats are cool. All independent and strong. Sleek and fast. Quiet and patient. They know what’s food and what’s not. What lives and what dies. A cat is the king of the jungle. King Gunn. “Kinda feels good on the tongue. King Gunn.” A sly grin scampered across his face and just a hint of cold yellow crept in behind his normally warm brown eyes.
Yeah, I got it goin’ on. No more pansy-ass 'if it's got a soul, it's okay' crap. Because it ain’t okay. If it’s demon, it’s dead. If it kills, I kill it. The mission is all there is and all there should be. I am King and I rule. “Now who dies first your majesty?”
The eyes have it.
Scene 8
Nasulo was taking his time. Killing the girl was going to take some finesse. She wasn’t his ordinary victim. No timid tea set toting, house-playing Barbie wannabe her. This child was unique and was forewarned. He knew of her gifts and imagined she knew he was coming for her.
Would she also know how he was going to kill her when he didn’t even know himself? And once he did decide his strategy was it already doomed to fail because she’d see it coming? For once in is eternal life he thought he might have to wing it. Surprise himself and in the process leave her no time to form her defense. I didn’t know I could get headaches. She’ll pay for that in many vile ways.
Fala had already seen her death, and it didn’t bother her. She’d also seen her rescue, not that she really needed it. She was perfectly capable of taking care of the Nasulo or dying by its hands.
Whatever. There was no death for her. Of course there could be death for this body, but another would take its place. The only reasons for her to avoid Nasulo’s claws were her mother and the tormented one. Her mother was a kind and precious soul, but incomplete. And the one who was to save her could help her mother’s soul reach the next level.
And there was that secondary benefit. The joining. It didn’t need to happen in this lifetime, but it couldn’t hurt. She just couldn’t decide.
“Mommy, can I have a Klondike bar?” She decided to put off that conundrum until later. Maybe the crunchy and smooth confection would tip the scale.
Scene 9Everyone was in Angel’s office except Gunn. They’d already waited 10 minutes for him, and Wesley’s patience was worn.
“Angel, I think we should start without Gunn. He wasn’t in his office, so I’m not sure if he got the message. He’s already well aware of the situation and...”
“Fine.” Angel just stared out the window with his back to them.
Fred and Lorne looked to each other for support. Wesley saw the two exchange glances and wished he was on their team right now. He did not want to be the one putting the knife in Angel’s heart. Why do I always have to be the mature one? If only I could hold someone’s hands and cry when I felt it. Like right now.
“Wesley, why did you want to meet? What situation are you talking about?” Was Angel really so out of it that he didn’t know why they were here? Oh, God, take this cup from me. When God failed him yet again, he spoke.
“The situation is Cordelia.” Wesley heard the tone in his own voice and was shocked by its businesslike cool. He took a deep breath and tried to let the weight of what he was about to say reflect in his voice. “Angel, it’s time. We need to let her go.”
Angel slowly turned his chair and faced them. He forced himself to move his chest out and in to simulate breathing because he didn’t want any one of them thinking he didn’t care. That he was just a dead, unfeeling corpse that had given up. He wanted them to know that life mattered to him and that her life was still precious to him.
He looked Wesley in the eye and said, “I agree.” Once he spoke the words, he stopped breathing.
The shock went through each of them differently. Wesley was sure he had not heard correctly. Fred was simply devastated but somehow knew he was ready. Lorne was merely accepting as always of the way of things, but still amazed that he had not seen it in his aura. There was still so much conflict apparent in him, surrender definitely wasn’t on the top of the charts.
When no one said anything, Angel decided to let his friends off the hook and himself, too.
“I love Cordelia. I wanted to say that to her before anybody else heard it, but I’ve accepted that it’s not going to happen. I hope she knew. It took me so long to realize it, and then too long to get the courage to tell her, but I hope she felt it from me. Maybe some day I’ll find out.” The tears that had pooled just at the precipice now spilled over at the thought of seeing her again...smiling and happy.
He choked back the hard knot in his throat and willed the tears to retreat so he could continue.
“But one thing I’m sure of is that she loved us. And she would never want any of us to be in this much pain. Cordy loved life and didn’t fear living it. We have to honor her and do the same thing.”
He pondered who was left of his family in the room. A scruffy yet impeccably dressed rogue demon hunter, a terminally insane but totally guileless physicist, and a green-skinned, red-horned anagogic diva demon. Their hearts were breaking but he couldn’t let their lives be ripped apart now. If Cordelia had done one thing for him, it was to show him he still possessed a heart. He wouldn’t let her life be in vain. If he couldn't save her, he could do that much for the love of his life.
He would have to be the heart of their family now. As soon as he did what he had to do and put the shredded pieces of it back together. Please, Cordy, help me.
Scene 10Tomorrow was going to be the worst day of her life so far. And that was saying something coming from a woman who’d been trapped in a hell dimension for five years. Fred shuffled into her office after “the meeting.” That’s what it would forever be to her now. The day they had “the meeting” that killed Cordy. She never wanted to meet with anyone ever again. But there was one more to attend at 9:00 am sharp. The “goodbye meeting.” Wasn’t tonight just going to be chock full of restful non-sleep of the tossing and turning variety?
What do you wear to a plug pulling? She couldn’t help but smile at the Cordy in her. “Oh, God, I’m going to miss you so much.”
She plopped into her chair and picked up the phone to call Charles. She didn’t know why he hadn’t been there, but she wanted to be the one to tell him the decision. She got his voice mail and wasn’t sure what to do.
“Umm...Charles....this is Fred. Well, of course you know it’s me. How stupid of me. Anyway we had the meeting about Cordy just a little while ago and... Gosh, I really wanted to talk to you. I wish you were there. I....uh...miss you, ya know?”
Fred’s eye wandered from the phone cord she was twisting in her finger to the message that had been placed on her desk while she was gone. She stared at the words not immediately grasping what she was seeing. But something tickled her brain about it. Something was familiar.
“Uh...oh! Sorry. Uh, maybe you should give me a call when you get this because I don’t want....”
The address. That’s what was bugging her. She knew that address. It was Cordy’s old apartment. What the hell? Who would be placing prank calls from there? And to her private line?
“...uh...to...tell....you....” It hit her like Ernst Angley’s healing hand. “Holy shit! My mother’s Aunt Rosie’s girdle! Oh, my god!” She suddenly realized she still had the phone in her hand. “Oh, Jesus. Sorry, Charles. I’ve gotta go!”
She slammed down the receiver and pulled it off again when she tried to grab her purse with the phone cord wrapped around her arm. The cord was evil and wouldn’t let her go, so she snatched her purse anyway and pulled the phone from the wall as she flew out her office and out of her mind.
Act III
Scene 1Books. He loved them and hated them. Bound to them like a worn, leather cover--one with too many leftover dirty, oily fingerprints. All the facts that made up his pained brain were culled from these mistresses. So why were they so utterly useless to him? He hated them for letting him down over and over again and loved them for saving him just as many times.
But when it mattered most, the true answers were always just out of his reach in some long-lost scroll God hid just to tease him. God, our Father. Why were fathers always testing us and when do our fathers stop being gods? Wesley suspected it was when you joined the club. And if that was the case, he prayed for sterility.
But whether or not God was testing him didn't matter any more. God was a wanker. If God would let the best friend he'd ever had die for no apparent good reason, then God could suck him off and leave a tip.
True, he had thought it best to let Cordelia go. He was convinced she was already gone. That’s what the facts told him. And he'd almost done it. He'd almost given up on her because he thought it was what was best for everyone else. When truly it was because he didn't want to fail yet again. He didn't want to be the one who couldn't find the only way to bring her back and, thus, be the one who killed her.
But when Angel took that burden from him, he was ashamed. He thought he would have to convince Angel to accept Cordy's death when, in actuality, he found himself needing to hear the argument. The words Angel spoke were real and true on many levels but something rang false to him.
To honor her by giving up on her wasn't right. Cordelia was loving and strong, but she wasn't completely altruistic. Yes, she loved life and would want us to be happy, but sacrificing her own life to make us happy wasn't Cordelia either. Not if there was any way around it. If Cordelia was anything she was a woman who knew how to bargain…with demons, with destiny, with the shop girl at Costco. She could haggle her way into heaven, hell, or back to her family and wind up being paid to do it.
Yes, he had complete faith that Cordelia would find a way. All he had to do was lend a little help. There was a book or scroll or hieroglyphic or rune or prophesy someplace that would give him the answer. Wes was sure it existed…because all things possible exist. And this was possible.
And now that he was resolved to find that one possibility, he felt he knew where to begin. Her body was still functioning albeit with the help of machines, so that meant her spirit was the problem. It wasn't a question of merely putting her soul back in as they had done several times with Angel. They'd already tried that.
There was something blocking her soul's reentry or holding it back. Most probably a malevolent force of some kind, but he had exhausted all known references to such an entity and had already tried the associated unblocking spells. The holding back forces were just as powerful, and already explored, discussed and cast out ad infinitum.
What would keep Cordy from returning? What would stop Cordelia Chase, queen bitch of all Sunnyhell and pretty powerful half-demon seer, from doing anything? Nothing. Nothing alive or dead, holy or unholy could stop her. She was herself a force of nature and…
"Eureka!!"
Scene 2'"Move it asshole! Haven't you ever seen a broken down piece of crap Honda before?" She leaned her head out the window as she passed the piece of crap owner. "Hey! Buy American next time!"
Fred was in mission mode and never felt more alive. Now if all these idiots on Vermont would just realize her mission was more important than their pathetic lives and get out of her way, everything would fall into place.
Man, oh man. Please let it be Cordy. Please, please, please. I'll shave my head and do the chicken dance at my weddin' if you'll let this… "Yeah, same to you buddy!" She flipped off some frickin' tourist and squeezed her Jag (Ford product, thank you) between a slow ass Rolls and an intimidated Camry. Typical LA. Any time you've got to be someplace yesterday, every idiot in town gets in a car to stop you. Now if it would just rain, hell would be complete.
"Damn stop lights! How many can you put in one block and why do they all turn red right when I get to 'em?"
It seemed like everything was going against her. Maybe she wasn't meant to get there. Maybe…
"Oh, God. What if its some kinda trap? What if the PTBs are trying to tell me to turn back?" Maybe I should call Angel and have him meet me there. "No, no, no idiot. Not Angel. What if it is just some kid playing a prank? Angel would probably gut him for gettin' his hopes up. No. Definitely not Angel."
Gunn, Fred or Lorne? Not Lorne. Not unless he could sing 'em to death. And Wes probably wouldn't believe that it was anything. He's convinced she's already gone. "Guess that leaves Gunn. The way he's been lately, I'm sure he'd jump at the chance to dismember something."
She reached for the speed dial button on her handless car phone and made the turn onto Santa Monica at the same time. Silver Lake and hope was only minutes away.
Scene 3The stalking was loads of cool. Almost as good as the kill. But the after slaughter crash was the big jimmy jam of bad. It didn't used to be that way. Gunn could remember a time when killing the bad guy was just the beginning of the feel good. The slaps on the backs, the high fives, the knuckle and full-body slams. Then came the need for pizza and tacos and the come down from the adrenalin rush was slow and cushioned by laughs and smiles and…friends.
An unexpected growl gurgled in his throat and his eyes flashed yellow. He shook his head and the thoughts of past glories and friends were gone. The acrid smell of fresh blood was on his hands now and it stimulated his need to have more. More justice. More of the righteous fight. He had four demon lairs on his list to clean out tonight, and he was just marking one off, So long Mr. or Ms. Phenologic demon. Don't let the door hit ya…", when his cell phone went off.
Dammit. It's Fred. When is that girl gonna let go of the string. "Yeah, Fred. Whaddup?"
"Charles! Thank God you're there. I need you to meet me at Cordy's old apartment in Silver Lake."
"Why? I've got business of my own to take care of tonight."
Fred didn't have time for any bullshit from him. "Charles, please. Can't you do it just because I asked and I'll explain later?"
Gunn wanted to just hang up. Fred's nostalgic trip down Coma Cordy lane was so far down his list of priorities it didn't even make the wannabe list.
"Fred, does this have anything to do with killin' something, because I've got my freak on and I don't wanna get unfreaked yet."
She couldn't believe him. I loved this idiot? "Yes, Charles. There's gonna be all kinds of opportunities for freakiness. Your freak will be more than satisfied. Trust me."
"Be there in ten." He closed the phone and jammed it back in his pants pocket. He thumbed the blacklist with three remaining hits on it and then stuffed it next to the phone. “Guess it’s your lucky night numbers two through four. Best enjoy it while you can.” He picked up his duffle bag of weapons and jogged to his car.
It didn’t bother him one bit that an arm, head and slabs of meat sliced from the once noble and once living Phenologic demon would be left for the garbage man or nearest playing child to find in the morning. It didn’t cross his mind.
Scene 4Fred heard the click of the hang up and shook her head. “Asswipe.” Her anger over the traffic and now Gunn’s attitude was slowly turning into apprehension. Pissin’ off Gunn might not be a good idea. Maybe she just shoulda explained the whole thing. If he gets here and sees there’s nothin’ to kill except an already dead ghost... “Well maybe he won't actually kill me. Maybe just break a limb or two.”
She shivered at that thought because part of her knew it could actually happen. She couldn’t be sure when Charles had turned into a machine just going through the motions. But she was sure something changed him the first day they visited Wolfram and Hart. She’d even tried to talk to him about it, but he told her she was crazy and to leave him alone. And she had left him alone because the way he had said it...the emptiness in his eyes... had chilled her to her core.
So another member of the family was gone just like that. First Cordy and then Charles. Angel was slipping away by the second. Wesley hadn’t really come back to them completely before Wolfram and Hart and he was just...well...British. Lorne was the only one she felt any warmth from, but he was so wrapped up in all the celebrities he knew or could meet at any moment, that she rarely saw him.
Cordelia wouldn’t have let this happen. Cordy would’ve fought like hell to keep ‘em together and probably out of Wolfram and Hart completely. Fred’s shoulders sagged at the realization that she was not Cordy and never would be.
The rekindling of her feelings of helplessness was the last straw. She felt the anger rising again and tasted bile in her throat. “There’s only one Cordy and we need her! You hear that you goddamn powers? Don’t mess with certifiable here because I may just have to open me up a portal aimed right at your ass and kick it! ”
Well, maybe I do have just a little Cordy in me. She smiled to herself and then felt the car jerk to a stop. Her eyes shifted back into focus, and she realized she had managed to maneuver her car to the apartment without any conscious effort. Now all she had to do was wait for Gunn and get a big ax out of the trunk just in case.
Scene 5“I told you they’re coming, Dennis. Fred and Gunn. Although Gunn is giving me some serious heebie jeebies. That dude is messed up and once I get back, I’ve got some glowy house cleaning to do.”
“Isn’t Angel coming? Not that I want to see him again. He doesn’t deserve you, you know.”
“No one deserves me, Dennis. I’m more like a plague than a reward. Well, when I put it that way, maybe Angel does deserve me.” She laughed and it felt strange. “Hey, look at that. I can laugh and I kinda shimmer when I do. Do you do that?”
“No. I’m not like you. I’m just a regular ghost. Dead and invisible. You’re not dead, just disembodied.”
“Yeah, I get that. Kinda comes with the gig...the whole knowledge thing. My knowledge doesn’t happen to include volumes about ghosts though.”
“Do you think we have time for another song before they get here? I’ve really missed singing.”
Cordy felt his sigh and hated to disappoint him, but she had to. “No, sweetie, no time. We’ve got to go over it one more time.”
“I’ve got it. I may be dead, but I’m not a retard. Gee whiz, I graduated high school you know. Plus I’ve been doing this communicating with the living from a different plane a lot longer than you.”
“Dennis. What’s the first thing you’re going to say?”
“Dammit, Cordelia!”
“That’s not it. And stop doing your Angel impression. I don’t have time for jokes.”
“Gee, I don’t know. Was it something like, ‘Boo’?”
“I’m so glad I got to know the funny Dennis. ‘Cause when I die and leave your ass here, I’ll know exactly what I’m not gonna miss.”
Cordelia could feel the equivalent of Dennis scuffing his shoe on the ground and his humphing. She should feel bad, but this was too important. “Dennis, stop pouting and tell me what you’re going to say.”
“Guess you’ll have to be surprised. They’re here!”
Scene 6There was knocking. Steady, insistent and annoying. Where the hell is it coming from? He looked down to see his knee nervously pounding against the leg of his desk. He had been performing the involuntary motion for the last ten minutes completely unaware. It was the bruise beginning to form on his knobby joint that had alerted him to a problem.
If only his mind was as alert as his nervous system. He’d had a thought about Cordelia’s soul and run with it as far as the known texts could take him. But he hit a wall. The problem he surmised was indeed a possibility as discussed in several treatises on Mayan soul travel. But the most intriguing lead was mentioned in a book written by an observer of various Native American medicine men who described a process of souls joining to heal. The only problem was the methodology was vague.
What he needed was an actual medicine man or at the very least some text written by one with much more detail. Unfortunately, Wolfram and Hart didn’t have any such men on staff. He was informed that these were considered holy men and, therefore, not helpful to their apocalyptic vision. And Native American traditions and practices were passed down from generation to generation usually through the telling and showing of them and not in the writing.
For the first time Wesley realized there were entire cultures on this planet that could disappear without record and with them the volumes of knowledge that would vanish. He would make it his project, as long as he had the resources of this evil empire at his fingertips, to start accumulating that knowledge for the future. It could be his greatest achievement.
In the meantime, back to the problem of Cordelia’s fractured soul. He had no doubt whose soul she must join with, but that would present another problem in and of itself. Not an unconquerable one, but a bit of a snag. It was the rest of the process as he understood it that was the bugger of it. Dammit! I’m so close.
In any case, it was time to bring this to Angel. He waited as long as he could because Angel had seemed resigned to letting her go, and Wesley needed more than theory to possibly raise his hopes only to dash them yet again. Now, at least, he had some research to back up his idea. For the first time since he’d stepped through the doors of Wolfram and Hart, he actually started to feel good. Not just happy good, but the opposite of evil. He was doing good.
Scene 7“What? You brought me here for this?” Gunn was about to open a whole new jumbo box of whoop ass on this mouse. It was taking every ounce of self-control he still possessed to stop.
“Charles, listen to me. Dennis called me. A lot! Now how did Dennis know my private number? And why now after all these months of missing, then found, then coma Cordy would he want to talk to us? It has to be Cordelia. She must be communicating with him somehow.” Fred was hesitant, but she reached over and touched his arm. He jumped a little at the contact, but he didn’t pull away.
“Why do you need me here? You can talk to Dennis all by your lonesome. You took me away from some important business.”
“I got to thinkin’ that maybe it was some kinda trap. Ya know. Somebody who knows us...who knew about Dennis...could be sittin’ in there in the dark waiting to pounce.”
Dammit, why didn’t I think of that? That woulda been tight. “Yeah, well, okay. Sounds a bit farfetched for your typical lurking evil to come up with, but I suppose it’s possible. Let’s go. But if it is just Dennis acting all boo-hoo woe is me, I will definitely get some of my friends at work to kick his foggy ass into hell for good.”
Friends? Charles has friends at Wolfram and Hart that aren’t us? She looked up to see him already across the street and heading up the path to the apartment. She ran to catch up. “Charles, wait.” He slowed a bit but he didn’t stop for her. When she finally did reach him, he plodded forward again at a brisk pace without looking at her.
“Charles, wait, please stop.”
“Fred, I thought this was urgent. Now are we going up there or not?”
“Yes...no...yes, we are, but give me a second. Charles, what friends at Wolfram and Hart? What friends do you have there that would exorcise Dennis?” She tried to read his eyes, but he wouldn’t turn to look at her.
Gunn realized he’d made a mistake, but nothing he wasn’t capable of fixing. “Hell, girl, that’s just a figure of speech. You know ol’ Wicked and Hell bound got tons of voodoo workin’ freaks that could do the Exorcist on Dennis in a second. I don’t know any of them personally, but it wouldn’t take any of us long to find one.” He turned and grinned for affect.
Fred noticed immediately that the smile didn’t make it to his eyes. Those eyes were cold and half dead. The chills covered her arms, but she hoped he hadn’t noticed her shiver. She didn’t want him to know she was terrified of him right now. Maybe Cordy was the lucky one after all.
“You’re right. We probably could make one phone call and have Linda Blair do it personally.” She smiled weakly hoping her charm would kick into gear and break the tension. “Let’s go. Cordy’s waitin'.”
Gunn waved his ax-wielding arm in an ‘after you’ gesture, and they climbed the steps to Cordy’s old apartment. Reaching the door, Fred took a deep breath and hesitated. Gunn looked exasperated, and reached up to knock when the door opened slowly on its own.
Scene 8Angel was still in his office even though he should have been out saving someone. After the meeting, he’d felt exhausted. It took everything in him to be strong for his friends. He discovered a whole new level of respect for Cordelia. She had played that kind of scene a thousand times before for her family’s benefit, and he was just now realizing how truly strong she must be...have been.
Any time he used the past tense, he could feel his eyes begin to burn. And he’d been forcing himself to speak and think of her in the past since the meeting. His eyes were raw. Maybe if he got it out of his system tonight, then when 9:00 am came, he’d actually be able to do it without staking himself afterward. Probably be able to. Most likely anyway. Or maybe not.
“Oh, fuck, Cordelia. I need you. Don’t make me do this, please. I’m not as strong as you.”
When she didn’t answer him for the millionth time, his head fell forward and he covered his tear-streaked face with both hands to hide his weakness. She would so kick my ass for brooding like this. That thought gave him a little comfort and a small chuckle got passed the permanent boulder in his throat.
The phone buzzed and his assistant announced, “Mr. Angel, Mr. Wyndham-Price is here to see you.”
“Give me one minute and then let him in.” Angel swiped away the wetness covering his face and went to his private bathroom. He couldn’t see his reflection, but he guessed he wasn’t looking too stone-faced about now. Turning the cold water on full blast, he cupped the water in his hands and soaked his eyes hoping any swelling there would recede. He was just toweling off when Wesley entered.
“What’s up Wes?” Angel tossed the spent towel on the bathroom floor behind him as he greeted Wesley.
Wesley wasn’t a genius at reading people, but he wasn’t a fool either. He recognized immediately that Angel had just been crying and probably had been for some time. But it was certainly not something he would comment on either. Angel obviously did not want to be seen in any light other than strong and in control, and Wesley would not deny him that comfort.
“I think I was wrong. I don’t think Cordelia is gone.”
Angel would have expected Wesley to do the dance of the seven-veils in front of the Queen of England before hearing those words leave his mouth. “You want to pass that one by me again because I’m in no mood for jokes or false hope.”
“I know I’m the one who was convinced that Cordelia was gone and we needed to let her go, and there is a mountain of evidence to support that. But, I now know that I...well, we all...were wrong. At least I’m now certain there is one other possibility that we missed, and I’m not willing to give up all hope as long as there’s one more chance.”
“No, Wes. I don’t believe in last minute reprieves. I know you’re just as upset as I am about doing this, but you were right. She’s left us and we need to say goodbye and move on.” He couldn’t believe he wasn’t grasping at this straw Wes was handing him. But he had to be the strong one. He had to take the responsibility and make the final, tough decision. It was the best thing for his family to put the burden on his back and not let this drag out any longer.
“But, Angel, at least let me...”
“No! No more. It’s over. Let go.”
Wesley felt the old tug of failure in his gut. His father’s voice brow-beating him with his constant barrage of debasing comments raced through his mind. “Look at you. As a girl, you make me proud...” “No one listens to you. Why should they? You’re pathetic...” “Always a Watcher, never a doer...” “Just sit back and watch a little girl do the fighting, that’s all you’re good for...” “Why did I get cursed with you as a son?”
Every time Angel or any other male authority figure challenged him in this way, he always struggled to fight back. To rise above his ingrained sense of worthlessness and insecurity. He’d come so far in the past few years, but it was never going to leave him.
Fathers can brand their sons. Maybe it’s a vestige from their animal ancestor’s tradition of scenting their property. Whatever the source, the mark never goes away. It can only fade. He would always have to fight to believe in himself and stand up against this stamp of insignificance on his soul.
The struggle this time was not a difficult one though. There was too much riding on his belief to back down. Cordy was far more important than his fear of failing in Angel’s eyes.
He moved as close to Angel as was comfortable. Enough to prove he was self-assured. His intense gaze locked with Angel’s. Unblinking, he said, “You let go, Angel. Let go of this show you’re putting on for us. I believe I have a way to get Cordy back. Believe it or not, I don’t care. But, I will do everything in my power to stop you from killing her tomorrow including staking you right now if that’s what it takes. Are we clear?”
Normally anyone threatening to stake him would really piss him off and most likely already be dead. But, all he felt now was relief...gobs and gobs of it. If Wesley was willing to kill him or risk dying for his idea, then it must be valid. And if it was a concrete possibility, then she might not have to die. He might not have to kill her. He didn’t have to be the strong one any more. He could let it go. And he did. The sudden lightness of his load was so startling that his knees buckled, and he would have dropped to the floor if Wesley hadn’t propped him up long enough to guide him to a chair. Thank you, God.
“Thank you, Wesley.”
Scene 9Fred and Gunn stared into the dark apartment. The corridor light spilled in just enough for them to get a general idea of the layout.
Fred was shocked to see it looking so different. She had stupidly expected to see Cordy’s furniture there even though she and Gunn were the ones who’d cleaned out all her stuff months ago. So to see some stranger’s things in front of her made her hesitate. This was an invasion of somebody’s privacy.
“Do you feel a little strange about doing this?” Fred asked Gunn who was about to step across the threshold, ax at the fore.
“No, why should I? Isn’t this why we’re here?”
“I know, but this isn’t Cordy’s apartment any more. Some stranger lives here. It’s kinda creepy, dontcha think?”
Gunn just rolled his eyes. “Listen, I’m going in. You hang back here until I can check it out and make sure it’s only Casper waiting for us.” Fred nodded silently and pulled her feminine-sized ax up and into ready position.
Gunn had only gotten three steps in when all the lights in the apartment started going on and off and on again creating a strobe affect. He jumped back shocked and steadied himself for an attack. Fred just laughed.
“Hi, Dennis! It’s great to see you, too. How about you blink the lights once if this is a trap and twice if it’s clear for us to come in? Sorry, Charles, I shoulda thought of that earlier. Maybe you didn’t need to come after all.”
The lights went on and off twice and Fred stepped inside. Gunn was thoroughly disappointed in the lack of evil lurkers and turned to exit. Dennis slammed the door shut in his face.
“Don’t be messin’ with me, Dennis. I’ve got places to be.”
The door bolt slid into place. Gunn turned back toward the living room, ax poised to strike at something...anything...and saw a steno pad and pen floating toward him. On it was written, “Gunn, don’t go. Need your help. Cordy.”
Fred squealed. “Cordy! I knew it! Thank you, Dennis. Thank you, thank you, thank you. Oh, my God, Cordy. How are you? Where are you? You’re not dead are ya? Of course, you’re not, because your body’s still alive. So how’ve ya been? Whatcha been doin’? Are you coming back soon, ‘cause we miss the hell out of ya...”
The scratching of the pen on the paper got her to stop yammering for a second. The message read, “Vision. Save girl. Now!”
Gunn looked at Fred hopeful again that he’d get to smash something. They both watched as the pad settled on the table in front of the couch and the pen started flying across the page. Soon they were seated where they both could read everything as Dennis transcribed it.
“Great job, Dennis. Don’t forget to tell them the part about the tail. It’s all spiky and can kill them with one swing. Oh! And tell them to split up. This thing is really fast and looks like it can disappear and be someplace different in an instant.”
“I’m writing as fast as I can, Cordy. What did you say about the eyes?”
“Jesus, Dennis. They can’t look directly in its eyes. They can stun them or something. It gives this thing time to kill ‘em. Pretty important factoid to forget. Sheesh!”
“If you think you can do better, why don’t you talk to them? Huh? Huh? That’s what I thought.”
“Okay, okay. Sorry. You’re right. I do need you and you’re doing great. I’m just really nervous. They’ve got to get to this girl very, very soon and I don’t want anybody getting hurt.”
“Have you got all that, Charles,” Fred asked as she pulled out her cell phone.
“Got it, logged it and ready to crush it. Let’s move.”
They headed toward the door and Fred turned back as they were about to exit. “Cordy, we’ll be right back. Promise. Don’t you go any place!” The door slammed on Cordy’s silent reply.
“Don’t worry. I’m snug as a bug here...there...and everywhere. Not movin’ a muscle you little Texas tornado. So, Dennis, I think we’ve got time for another serenade. What’s on the ol’ jukebox?”
Scene 10Wesley had explained his theory twice now. Once to Angel and then again to Lorne after Angel called him to join them. Fred and Gunn were unreachable and absent.
“So to sum up, the situation as it appears to exist is: (a) In order for her to be welcomed back into her body, her soul has to be healed; (b) It must join with another soul that is connected to it and to its pain on an intimate and emotional level to heal; (c) Once the healing is complete, the souls must be separated; (d) After they are separated any standard re-ensouling spell should work.”
“But we still don’t know how to do the joining, healing and separating hoodoo, right?” Lorne gestured with his Seabreeze-ladened hand sloshing some on the boss’s rug. “Oopsy. Sorry big guy.”
Angel could only smile. That’s all he’d been doing for the last bit of eternity since Wesley began explaining. Damned if Wesley didn’t make sense, and for the first time in months he was happy to be alive and working at Wolfram and Hart.
“Don’t worry about it. And, yeah, we don’t know how but all we need is a real-life medicine man or someone who at least knows the ritual. How hard can that be, right? We’ve got the world and unlimited dimensions at our fingertips. We should be able to dig up one measly medicine man.”
Wesley couldn’t help smiling at his goofy grin, but he thought it best to temper Angel’s enthusiasm with a smidgen of reality check. “Well, it shouldn’t be impossible but it may not be quite that simple. These sorts of rituals, as I said, are passed down orally and we can’t be certain that this particular soul joining and healing ceremony is still in practice. In addition, it appears to have only been practiced in only a few tribes.”
“Well that’s good. That narrows down the search. We target our efforts on those tribes and question every medicine man they have until we find the one.” Angel wasn’t grasping the true problem.
“Yes, that’s true. It does make it easier, but it also limits our pool of possibilities considerably. Angel, we may only be talking about three or four qualified individuals and the chance of one of them knowing this particular ritual is... I just don’t think we should be looking at this as a sure thing quite yet.” “There’s my boy. There’s the wimp of my loins.” He saw Angel come in for a crash landing and cringed.
“I know you’re right, Wes. But, if there’s any chance...”
Wesley immediately regretted his words. “No, I’m wrong. I’m talking out of my ass.” Lorne did a spit take and added another stain to the carpet.
He ignored Lorne’s slapstick and continued. “I don’t know how many are out there, but I’m sure if there is one we’ll find him. We have to.”
“Way to go, my man Wes! Glad to have the fully-balled version back and jacked up for business.” Lorne raised his glass to him and received an embarrassed grin from Wesley for the effort.
“Yeah, I’m kinda glad to see him, too,” Angel added. “Of course, I could’ve done without the ‘fully-balled’ image floating around in my head right now.”
“Yes, well, we all are, aren’t we.” Wesley grimaced at the thought of Angel picturing his balls.
“Speak for yourself, studly do-right,” Lorne teased and winked unashamedly at Wesley. Wesley was about to let fly a tasty comeback when Angel’s intercom buzzed.
“Yes?” Angel asked.
“Sir, Ms. Burkle is on line one.”
Angel pressed the speakerphone so they all could hear. “Fred, where are you? You need to get back...”
Fred cut him off. “Angel! Listen to me. I’m at Cordy’s old apartment in Silver Lake. Gunn’s here, too. Angel! You won’t believe this. Cordy’s here!! She’s here and she’s talkin’ through Dennis, and man she won’t shut up! It’s the most wonderful thing I’ve ever seen!!”
Fred waited for a response, but there was nothing but silence.
“Angel? Angel did you hear me? Angel!! Dammit, Charles, I think he musta collapsed or something. He’s not answering.”
The double-doors to Angel’s office were wide open. Just as they’d left them when they charged out of his office on their way to Cordelia.