Go TeamC/A
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Part 5 Earlier
Angel watched from the shadows as Cordelia exited the ladies’ room at the club. He saw her raise her hand to her neck and remove the tranq dart form her skin, and he couldn’t help the low growl of anger that escaped him. He sank further back into the dark corner as the rumble reverberated in the hallway.
It was against every fiber of his being to just stand back and watch as his best friend was abducted, but he couldn’t see any other way to get answers in this case. He cursed Wesley and his suggestions as his worry for her safety increased.
As he watched, a blue-skinned demon slowly crept out of a doorway opposite of the ladies’ room. Glancing up and down the hallway, the demon knelt down near Cordelia and checked for signs of consciousness. Finding none, he gathered her up in his arms and left the way he came.
Moving with complete silence and preternatural speed, Angel followed. He’d parked the Plymouth in the alley near the club’s rear exit, and he was able to jump in and follow the black sedan holding Cordelia, her captor, and his companion.
Trailing a few car lengths behind, Angel followed for several minutes. Recognizing landmarks that they passed, Angel discovered that they were headed deeper into the posh jungle that was Beverly Hills. The sedan slowed and pulled into the driveway of an immense estate surrounded by an imposing iron fence. Angel parked the Plymouth a ways up the street and watched as the sedan pulled through the gate and disappeared behind the house.
“Hang on, Cordy. I’m coming for you,” he promised silently as he wrenched open the car door and sprinted towards the fence.***
“H-Hey, Cordy,” Xander smiled weakly, as if he was in total despair but trying to make an effort.
“Did YOU do this?” Cordelia demanded, mystified. Her mind didn’t want to believe it. She and Xander had had a rocky break-up, but she still couldn’t fathom the idea that he’d be behind this scheme.
He met her gaze, his distress evident. “No, Cordelia, I didn’t. I got here the same way you did; somebody shot me with some kind of a tranq dart and the next thing I knew, I woke up here.” He gestured to the room they were in.
Cordelia took in her surroundings. She was in the middle of a luxurious king sized mahogany bed, laying under a burgundy damask comforter and being supported by what must’ve been at least fifty pillows of all shapes and sizes. The room was huge; a massive chandelier hung from a vaulted ceiling, and the wall across from the bed sported a huge marble fireplace, complete with an intricately carved mahogany mantle. The light was low, and a few dozen candles were placed intermittently, effusing the room with a golden glow, shadows dancing on the muted beige walls. In short, it was a million-dollar love nest.
Her eyes narrowed as she took in the most dire feature of the room: the doors. They were huge oak panels, at least 10 feet tall, with heavy iron hinges. The worrisome part was that there were no doorknobs or handles. The doors fit together seamlessly, no light coming from anywhere around the edges.
Turning back to Xander, she asked, “Do you know why you’re here?”
“No.” He answered, his frustration evident. “I was out with Anya shopping and I—“
“Wait,” Cordelia interrupted. “Anya? As in ‘I’m a man-hating vengeance demon’ Anya?” Her tone was incredulous.
Xander looked embarrassed. “Um, yeah. We’re sort of--, well, sort of dating.”
Cordelia had her mouth opened, ready to launch a scathing attack at Xander for being so stupid to date a vengeance demon, when she realized that she’d been making out with a demon herself lately. And loving it. She smiled wryly.
“What’s that look for?” Xander asked defensively.
Cordelia thought fast. She wasn’t about to tell him what she was thinking. Did she want Buffy to know she’d been making out with Angel? Xander’s loyalties had always been clear.
“Nothing, Xan. I just realized that it wouldn’t be all that unusual for you to choose a demon to date. I mean, look at your selection. Sunnydale isn’t exactly crawling with girls who are willing to put up with your lifestyle.”
“Well, she’s not really a demon anymore. She lost her powers when the wish you made went wrong. She’s been living demon-free since then, and she seems to be happy.” His eyes softened as he thought about his girlfriend, and Cordelia realized then that she’d forgiven him for how he’d wronged her. She didn’t know when it had happened, but she’d grown since then and she could get past it.
“Well, I’m happy for you, Xander, but as usual, your life choices have led to a major problem.” Cordelia proceeded to fill him in on everything Angel Investigations knew so far.
“So what do you know?” She asked after she finished.
Xander shrugged. “Not much. They let me out for an hour or two this morning, fed me lunch, and brought me back up here. They must have drugged my food, because I woke up next to you. You woke up about 15 minutes after I did.”
“Did you see anything downstairs?” Cordelia prodded.
“There are at least 20 other people being held here. There are also at least one guard for every three prisoners. I counted 7 around the perimeter of the dining room. There was no way to escape; I looked.” His frustration was evident as he continued. “I sat next to a woman at lunch. The guards didn’t seem to care if we talked, so I got some more information from her. She said that her roommate had tried to escape. She was shot in the courtyard, and they put her body on display for a week for everyone to see. Apparently they haven’t had any escape attempts since then.”
Cordelia grimaced. “I can see why.”
They sat in silence for a moment, processing what they’d each learned.
Cordelia looked up into Xander’s face. “It’s good to see you, Xander. Even if we’ve been kidnapped.” She smiled at him, the forgiveness evident in her face that she’d been unable to extend two years earlier.
“Thanks, Cordy. Guess we’ll have to sit here and wait for Deadboy to rescue us, huh?” He looked chagrined at the prospect of encountering Angel again.
“Like I want to see Buffy, either. But you know they’ll come for us.”
“They always do.”***
Outside the gate, Angel surveyed the scene. He could sense the hum of an electric current running through the metal, so he knew scaling it would be a problem. Well, sometimes being a vampire came in handy.
In a move that Cordelia would’ve said was showing off, Angel jumped noiselessly over the 15 foot fence, coat billowing. As he landed, a guard came rushing towards him. He dropped to the ground, rolled, and came to his feet several feet away. As he stood, his energy waned. Some powerful force was draining him of his strength, reducing him to the weakness of an out-of-shape human.
Angel had no time to adjust to the sensation. The guard came at him again; this time, Angel tried to kick the guard's feet out from under him, but it amounted to little more than a tap. The energy it took to deliver it was almost more than he could spare. Growling in frustration, Angel turned quickly and stumbled toward the fence and safety. Just as he approached the fence and began to feel his strength increasing, he felt a sharp tug on the back of his jacket, pulling him away.
Part 6Using the last of his remaining strength, Angel jerked away from the hands that were trying to restrain him. He lunged for the fence, careful to avoid touching the electrically charged metal. As if he’d crossed an invisible barrier, his strength returned in full force, surging through him powerfully. His limbs tingling, he jumped over the fence and escaped into a dense copse of trees and bushes nearby.
After hiding in silence for several minutes, Angel cautiously looked out from behind a large tree trunk to check for guards. He knew now that he couldn’t get to Cordelia in the mansion, and the thought that she would have to stay there indefinitely sickened him.
He cursed Cordelia for agreeing to the scheme, Wesley for suggesting it, Jeremy for hiring them in the first place. But most of all, he cursed himself for allowing her to be put in such a precarious position. He had known that there would be no foolproof way to protect her, but he’d felt heat sweep through him at the idea of her soft lips on his, and he’d let it cloud his judgment. Now he called himself a thousand kinds of foolish as images of her being killed or tortured surged through his mind. His guilt increased second by second, a sharp knife that twisted and burrowed in his gut as he was forced into inaction by the mystical force protecting the compound.
The only shred of hope he held on to was the thought that this trip didn’t have to be a total failure. He would come back with something useful even if he had to kill everyone in sight to do it. Cordelia was not going to stay in there any longer than necessary if he had anything to say about it.
For once in his unlife, fortune seemed to be smiling on him. Just as he was reviewing his extremely short list of options, a guard passed near his hiding place on a perimeter check. Ten seconds later, the guard was unconscious and in the brush with Angel. His mouth set in a grimly determined line, Angel tossed the man over his shoulder like so much baggage and raced for the Plymouth.Cordelia’s Apartment
Wesley paced the polished hardwood floor of Cardelia’s living room, his left shoe squeaking rhythmically in the stillness. Angel and Cordelia had left for the dinner club around 7 p.m.; it was well past midnight and they weren’t back yet. Wesley knew that their plan had been at least partially successful; if the perpetrator hadn’t abducted Cordelia, they would’ve returned by now. The one thing that worried him was whether or not Angel was going to be able to retrieve her once they’d received the phone call from the kidnapper.
The sharp ring of the telephone jarred Wesley out of his thoughts, nearly causing him to stumble on the edge of the rug. After stopping momentarily for his balance to return and his heart to regulate, he lunged for the phone, grabbing it in the middle of the third ring.
“An-, uh, H-Hello,” Wesley answered breathlessly. He’d almost answered “Angel Investigations,” which would’ve proved awkward, to say the least.
“Angel.” The caller stated. It was a demand, not a request.
“This is he,” Wesley lied, not wanting to anger the caller by saying that Angel wasn’t there.
“You are a traitor to demons everywhere. You have been found unworthy and will be punished.”
An uncomfortable silence followed, intimidating in its length.
“By now, I’m certain you’ve realized that your wife, or, more accurately, your employee, is missing,” the voice was deep and gravelly, as if the owner had small stones lodged in his voicebox that rattled as he spoke.
Wesley, startled by the fact that the caller knew of their undercover scheme, still managed the foresight to press the “record” button on Cordelia’s answering machine. As he did, the apartment door swung open violently. Angel stormed in, dragging a figure in black behind him.
Wesley motioned wildly to him, pointing at the phone. Angel’s face darkened as he stilled, silencing the moan coming from his captive with a solid, muffled punch to the face.
“You have Cordelia?” Wesley continued worriedly.
“Yes, I do. And, might I say, she looks—,” he paused again, “delectable.”
Wesley growled, an unusual sound coming from him, but appropriate nonetheless. His voice lowering to a threatening timbre, he asked, “If you touch her, I’ll—”
“You’ll what, exactly?” the caller interrupted. “You don’t even know who I am. You don’t know anything about me. You’re not a threat, so don’t even pretend that you are.” The arrogance in his words was tangible, crackling over the phone lines and adding a level of intimidation that was infinitely more effective than mere words.
“What do you want from me?” Wesley asked, his words infused with desperation.
“Oh, just a few things. If you want your Cordelia returned to you, I suggest you do exactly as I ask.” He took his time with the words, as if he were doing his taxes rather than holding someone’s life in his hands. “By midnight tomorrow, you must deliver the Slayer to me.”
Wesley was taken aback; this was a demand they had not anticipated. “The Slayer? What do you want with her?”
“Silence!!” the voice hissed. “My motivations are no concern of yours. I understand you have a, hmmm, attachment to the slayer. Your successful completion of this request will prove to me your loyalty.”
“So if I bring you the Slayer, you will release Cordelia to me?” Wesley asked, playing dumb, hoping to get the caller to reveal more information.
A low, evil laugh reverberated through the line, sending chills up Wesley’s spine. “Are you joking? I have a powerful vampire at my beck and call and I only plan to use him one time?” his tone was incredulous. “You will have several jobs to complete for me before you can even think about getting Cordelia back.”
“I want to talk to her,” Wesley demanded. “I want proof that she’s okay—”
“I will not allow that. I have, however, taken the liberty to show you that I do, in fact, have her in my possession. Check in your mailbox; the proof is there.”
“You’ve left something in our mailbox?” Wesley repeated for Angel’s benefit, who raced out the door. Wesley had stomach-churning visions of fingers in boxes or pictures of Cordelia’s mutilated body. The caller’s next words only served to confuse him further.
“She has someone familiar to keep her company. I assure you, she is quite safe, and very, very comfortable.” The way he said that last word made Wesley uneasy.
“What do you—”
He was interrupted again.
“You have until midnight tomorrow to bring me the Slayer. If you do not, Cordelia will be on the auction block the next morning. There are several buyers who will pay handsomely for a Seer, especially one as luscious as she.”
Wesley could almost see the evil smile on his face as he verbally leered at Cordelia.
“Bring me the Slayer.” He then stated an address for delivery.
The line went dead just as the front door was violently shoved open and Angel returned, carrying a manilla envelope and a glossy 8x10 photo. He shoved it into Wesley’s hands.
With barely controlled rage, Angel ground out through clenched teeth, “I have to get in there, Wesley. Find a way.”
Wesley looked down at the photo in his hands and his mouth dropped open in shock.
Cordelia lay on her back under a purple cover, eyes closed, shoulders bare, fingers burrowed in the hair of her companion. Xander’s dark head rested on her shoulder, his mouth tantalizingly close to one naked, rose-tipped breast peeking out from the edge of the blanket, a small, contented smile on his face as he slept.
Part 7Xander glanced nervously at Cordelia who had risen from the bed and was checking out the room. There wasn’t much to see, but it was something to pass the time. It also gave Xander a moment to collect the thoughts that were ricocheting off the walls of his brain like a million superballs set loose at once.
He’d awoken two hours earlier, warm in the type of cozy comfort one only gets when sleeping skin to skin with another human body. He’d slowly opened his eyes, smiling lasciviously as he focused on the voluptuous breast so close to him that was begging for his mouth, then frowning as he realized something wasn’t quite right. His first thought was, “when the hell did Anya get a boob job?” He jerked his head up with a snap as he realized that he recognized this breast; it just wasn’t Anya’s. He hadn’t seen this bit of goodness in a very long time. Xander felt dread build in the pit of his stomach as his eyes traveled up the golden column of skin, reaching the beautiful face of his sleeping ex-girlfriend.
Anya was going to kill him.
He’d quickly adjusted Cordelia’s clothing to cover her and located his shirt, slipping it on and buttoning it up in haste. He had no idea how long it would be before Cordelia came out of her drug-induced nap, but he didn’t want her to know what had happened. His experience with unpredictable women had increased significantly since he’d started dating Anya, and he knew that Cordelia was made from a similar mould. It was better that she was ignorant about this.
Xander had instinctively known that he’d been drugged and positioned like that with Cordelia. There was only one possible explanation. Sighing, he tried not to think about the look on Anya’s face as she looked at the picture she was bound to receive.
“Whoever this guy is, he had enough sense to hire a decorator,” Cordelia’s words interrupted his worried thoughts and brought him back to the present. “The color palate is fantastic.”
“I guess you would know,” Xander said absently, watching her riffle through drawers and rearrange knickknacks of fertility gods and phallic symbols.
Cordelia frowned as she rattled chains and manacles attached to the wall near the fireplace. “Kind of a kinky motif, though. Who does he think we are, thwarted lovers with a bondage fetish?”
“If he really wanted us to rekindle the flames of our lost love, he’d have found a smaller room with less light,” Xander quipped. “I saw a walk-in linen closet on my way back upstairs earlier.”
Cordelia rolled her eyes. “Ha, ha, Xander. Funny.” She strolled unhurriedly back across the room. She gasped and stopped abruptly as she neared the end of the bed.
Xander followed her gaze to a black circle hiding among the leaves of a silk plant above the fireplace.
“Oh, god, is that a camera?”
Well, he’d tried.***
Wesley slipped the offending picture back into the manila envelope and hid it under a stack of books on the table. The image was forever burned in his brain anyway, so there was no need to keep it for reference. He didn’t think Angel wanted the reminder either.
Turning to his boss, he asked, “So what happened?”
Angel filled him in. “I don’t know what that force was, Wesley, but it was powerful. I felt as though someone had completely drained me of strength. If I’d stayed there any longer, I wouldn’t have been able to stand.”
“And him?” Wesley motioned to the unconscious man in black.
“A guard. Maybe we can get some useful information out of him.”
Wesley didn’t want to bring up the picture again but he couldn’t see any way to avoid it. He cleared his throat. “What shall we do about Xander?”
Angel’s jaw clenched as the photo’s contents flashed through his mind once again. He knew it was a set-up—Cordelia wouldn’t be with Xander willingly again—but it slashed him nonetheless.
“I guess we should call—,”
KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK
“—Buffy.”
Angel reached for the door, opening it to find the subject of their conversation on the other side, flanked by Giles, Willow, a very distraught Anya, and, horror of horrors: Riley.
Angel growled menacingly and Buffy frowned.
“Hi, Angel,” she stated simply.
“Buffy,” he returned. He stood there, waiting.
She raised her eyebrows questioningly. “Can we come in?” she prompted.
“Oh, um, yeah,” Angel sounded reluctant, flashing a warning glare at Riley. God, he hated that pretentious mama’s boy.
“Angel,” Riley greeted through clenched teeth. Obviously he wasn’t happy to be here, either.
“Riley,” Angel ground out. Thoughts of their last meeting echoed in both their heads, Angel’s memories bringing a small smile of satisfaction at the smack down he’d dealt this kid.
There was a hurried exchange of greetings between Wesley and the present members of the Sunnydale gang.
“I assume you’re here about Xander?” Wesley asked, getting right to the point.
Giles nodded, answering for the group. “Xander was abducted yesterday. Anya received a call earlier today demanding that she produce Willow in exchange for Xander. She asked for proof that he was alive, and she received an e-mailed photograph of he and Cordelia. . .” Giles trailed off, as if uncertain whether he should explain the photo.
“We’ve seen it,” Angel said, his expression implacable.
“My poor Xander,” Anya wailed, “trapped in there with that heartless bitch—”
“Don’t say that about Cordelia,” Angel demanded threateningly. “She’s changed.” At the disbelieving faces of Willow and Buffy, he added forcefully, “She’s different. You don’t know her anymore, so don’t pretend that you do.”
His tone said that the conversation was closed, eyes threatening the life of anyone who dared bring it up again, either.
“Anya, did they say why you and Xander were targeted?”
She looked at Wesley tearfully. “They said that I was a traitor to demon-kind everywhere. That I had to pay for turning my back on seeking vengeance.”
Wesley looked at Angel. “It fits the MO.”
Angel nodded tersely, then turned and picked up his sword, cleaning the blade in preparation for their upcoming assault on the mansion.
Wesley explained the situation to Giles. “Apparently this guy has some kind of business going, extorting money out of reformed demons.” He told them about the force field preventing Angel from getting in.
“Does it affect just demons, I wonder?” Giles mused.
“I think it affects anyone with supernatural ability,” Angel stated quietly, looking at Buffy.
Riley spoke up, earning a frown from Angel for making his presence known. “Well, I don’t have any supernatural abilities, just extensive training. I’m willing to help.”
Angel ignored him, but Wesley nodded his agreement.
“What did they want in exchange for Cordelia?” Buffy asked.
“You,” Angel stated simply, his hard gaze meeting her surprised one.
Part 8Giles looked perplexed. “I can think of several reasons why someone would want to abduct or kill Buffy; we deal with that on a regular basis. But why not just abduct her or kill her outright?” he wondered.
Wesley jumped on Giles’ intellectual bandwagon. “Yes, and why would they ask Anya to provide Willow and Angel to provide Buffy? Why not just have Anya provide Buffy and use Angel for something else?”
“Guys, I think you’re forgetting something important,” Buffy pointed out. “I’m not exactly easy to kidnap, even if the baddie has a tranq gun. Been tried before. Never works out very well.”
Giles nodded, “That’s true.” He looked disappointed that his fledgling theory died young.
“Not only that,” Buffy continued, “But Willow isn’t very easy to steal either. She’s become a pretty powerful Wicca and I don’t think anyone could hold on to her for very long.”
“She’s right,” Willow confirmed. “I don’t think there are many people who could keep me by force.”
Willow smiled forlornly and looked over at Anya. “And Xander, while we all love him, doesn’t have much going for him in the supernatural power department.”
“Or any other department,” Angel added half aloud, earning a few dirty looks from the pro-Xander camp.
Giles began pacing, lost in thought. “So,” he postulated, “the perpetrator abducted Cordelia for leverage over Angel, and Xander for leverage over Anya. His goal is to have Buffy and Willow both in his grasp. What possible reason could he have for wanting all of you, if not to kill you?”
“Money,” Wesley said quietly. “That’s the common thread in all the abductions. The demon running this show abducts someone important, then blackmails the victim into stealing something or betraying someone. I think he has some type of underground auction going on.”
Silence descended over the room as everyone thought about the situation. A loud moan broke the stillness, and Angel was on the semi-conscious guard in a matter of seconds, his sword at the man’s throat.
“You’re going to tell us what we need to know, or you’re going to die, slowly and painfully,” he said, pressing the blade of his weapon uncomfortably against the guard’s neck. His tone left no room to argue his sincerity.
“Please, I have a wife and children,” the guard whimpered. “I don’t want to die.”
Angel’s mouth curved in a cruel smile. His face shifted to his demon visage as he said, “Fine. You won’t. They will.”
The fear in the man’s eyes grew thicker. “W-What do you want to know?”
“Everything.”***
After what seemed like hours of perusing the countless antiques and bondage equipment their luxurious cell had to offer, Cordelia was bored out of her mind. Just as she began to entertain the unpleasant prospect of small talk with Xander, the doorknob-less doors swung open dramatically to admit the last person Cordelia ever expected to see (well, besides Xander): Kenny, Jeremy’s “nicest” friend.
“Cordelia. Xander,” Kenny nodded to each in turn.
“Why are we being held here?” Cordelia demanded. She wasn’t about to pander to him; she didn’t care who he was.
“You’re leverage,” Kenny admitted. His grin turned carnal as he looked Cordelia up and down. “That photograph of you two in repose was quite artistic. I’m certain that Anya and Angel were very touched by what a beautiful picture the two of you made.”
“Xander,” Cordelia hissed, “What is he talking about?”
Kenny ignored her as he continued. “That was quite sweet of you to protect Cordelia’s sensibilities by covering her up, Xander, but it was really unnecessary. We’d already gathered the visual proof we needed of your safety.”
Xander clenched his fists and made a threatening step towards their captor. “I am so gonna—”
“You’re not going to do anything,” Kenny interrupted calmly. “You have no power here.”
“Enough with the evil power trip already!” Cordelia yelled impatiently. She’d had just about enough of Kenny’s posturing. “We’re your captives. We get that. We’re sufficiently terrified, please don’t kill us, yada, yada, yada. Now what exactly do you plan to do with us?”
“Nothing, yet. Angel and Anya have both been given a mission. They’ve been told to bring the slayer and Willow Rosenberg to me.”
“In exchange for us?” Xander asked.
“They think so,” Kenny added, smirking, obviously in love with his nefarious plans. “They won’t be leaving here, so they won’t be able to take you with them.”
“What do you want with Willow and Buffy?” Xander asked suspiciously, concern for his friends coming to the fore.
“They’re worth a great deal of money, you know. It isn’t every day that one can obtain a Slayer and a very powerful Wicca for one’s collection.”
“You still haven’t answered my question, moron,” Cordelia rolled her eyes, ignoring the glare that Xander gave her as she goaded Kenny. “What are you going to do with us?”
“You’ll be sold for your Seer’s ability. Your friend, here, will be disposed of.”
“You’d better start my bidding out at a decent price. Last time I was up for sale they tried to sell me for a paltry $2,000. I am so worth more than that,” she complained.
“Hello! Head on the chopping block, here!” Xander hissed, obviously miffed that she’d ignored the fact that his death sentence had been handed down.
“Pfft. Your precious Buffy will save you. Don’t worry about it,” Cordelia’s confidence was palpable.
Kenny frowned at Cordelia’s unwillingness to accept his plans. “Buffy and Angel will not have any power here. You have no hope. You are worth nothing but the price you bring at auction.” His speech seemed to convince him, his chilling smile returning.
“What’s with all the money, anyway?” Cordelia sniped. She gestured at the room. “It’s not like you don’t have enough already.”
“It’s not the money, dear, it’s the power,” Kenny said patronizingly. “Besides, the Powers that Be and I aren’t exactly best friends. This deal will allow me to significantly disrupt their plans.”
“You think they’re going to just let you wipe out their Champion and Seer all in one blow?” Cordelia asked incredulously.
Kenny only smiled, filled with the arrogance of a man who feels he’s already won.
“Have a pleasant evening, children,” Kenny added, turning on his heel and sweeping out of the room.
“Where’s the evil ‘Mua-ha-ha’ and requisite handlebar mustache?” Xander griped. “Geez, could this get any worse?”
“Yes,” Cordelia managed before she grasped her head and cried out in pain, sinking to the floor as the images flashed before her eyes.