Go TeamC/A
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Title: Tough Choices
Author: CordeliasDestiny
Posted: 08/10/03
Rating: N-17
Category:
Content: C/A, B/S
Summary: Two ancient objects link Buffy and Cordelia in an uncomfortable way.
Spoilers: BTVS: Through “Wrecked” ; ATS: “Lullaby”
Disclaimer: The characters in the Angelverse were created by Joss Whedon & David Greenwalt. No infringement is intended, no profit is made.
Distribution: I don’t care where, just let me know.
Notes: Okay, folks, here’s how this worked. 1) Reading and then submitting feedback. 2) Voting in the Poll that was formulated. 3) Then I reviewed the results of the poll and wrote the next part accordingly.
The direction of this story was entirely up to the forum members of AO/ST. Since this is, at its core, a fluff piece, I chose to ignore the following: Holtz just walked away after Darla staked herself and Connor was born. He’s not coming back for revenge. Call it a change of heart or whatever. Willow’s crazy magic stuff is still there, but its not going to consume everything like it did on BTVS.
Thanks/Dedication:
Feedback:
Prologue - L.A. – The Hyperion Hotel
The small, brown paper wrapped package sat precariously on the edge of Wesley’s desk. He peered at it from the doorway, his perusal wary. He never got unsolicited mail like this and the fact that it was a package, not a letter, ruffled his nerves slightly. The cube shaped box seemed harmless enough, but nothing in the world of Angel Investigations was ever as it seemed.
“Cordelia,” Wesley called, hoping that the girl was actually here for once.
“I’m busy, Wesley,” Cordelia called, obviously not happy to be disturbed.
Wesley rolled his eyes at her tone. She’s probably reading a magazine. That’s so terribly important, he grumbled silently.
His irritation turned to guilt when he heard the soft cry of a baby in the next room, then Cordelia’s soft murmur. He strode into the lobby and found her there, tickling Connor’s tummy as he lay on the couch, kicking his feet.
“Where’s that smile, little guy? Smile for Auntie Cordelia, please?”
Wesley just shook his head at her. “Cordelia, he’s only a few weeks old. He doesn’t understand you, and a smile would just be a result of excess gas.”
Cordelia glared at him, “Well, aren’t you Mr. Sunshine today. Who put prune juice in your Wheaties?”
Not wanting to get into an argument he would lose, Wesley just ignored her snide comments. “Did you accept a delivery for me and put it on my desk?”
“Yup, yesterday afternoon,” Cordelia said, her eyes once again on the baby.
“Did you happen to see where it came from?” Wesley asked, impatient.
Cordelia shrugged. “The return address said ‘Sunnydale.’ I assumed it was from Giles.”
Not able to resist the pull of his position of authority, Wesley assumed his “Stern Boss” face and lectured her. “Next time, Cordelia, don’t accept a package unless you know who it’s from. You never know how dangerous the contents might be.”
“Geez, Wesley, such a worrywart. We get packages all the time; what’s the big deal? Besides, Angel was gone, Fred and Gunn had gone to get lunch, I was watching Connor, and he was screaming to high heaven when the delivery guy came. I didn’t exactly have the mental energy to play Gestapo with the poor guy,” she excused herself, then promptly ignored him and turned back to the baby.
Wesley just shook his head, amazed yet again that he never seemed to get through to her. He loved Cordelia like his sister, and he would do anything to protect her, but she just wouldn’t stand for it. The only one who’d ever had any luck was Angel, and even his success was limited.
Back in his office, he hefted the small box, surprised to find how heavy it was. Just as she’d said, the return address was from Sunnydale, but the writing wasn’t Giles’ and no name accompanied the address. Shrugging, Wesley went against his better judgment and opened the box.
The contents stunned him, momentarily rendering him breathless. His eyes widened and his jaw dropped as he eagerly drunk in the sight of what was obviously an amazing archeological or paranormal find.
In his hand rested an orb, approximately five inches in diameter, made entirely out of onyx. The black rock shone as the light caught it, its surface delicately etched with an ancient language. The flowing, swirly script covered nearly every inch of the sphere, interrupted only by a line that ran the circumference of the object, dividing it into two equal halves. The polished stone was warm in his hand, the energy contained in it leashed, but powerful.
Reverently, he placed the object on the middle of his desk, determined to study it further. The language looked very familiar, but the meaning escaped him. He would have to do research, lots of meticulous, exciting research. He frowned as he realized that the books he needed were not here. He’d have to go out.
Grabbing his coat off the rack near his door, Wesley swiftly exited his office. On his way he passed Cordelia who was struggling with a now-fussy Connor.
“I’m going out for a little while. Don’t touch the orb that’s on my desk.”
“What?” Cordelia shouted after him, his words drowned out by the crying baby in her arms.
But Wesley, lost in his thoughts, didn’t hear her word, and his warning went unobserved.Sunnydale – The Magic Box
Buffy sighed heavily as she entered the Magic Box, shutting the door behind her. It was after closing time for the shop, but her workday was just beginning. It would be dark soon, compelling her to roam the streets and the graveyards to hunt and kill her enemies. Just another day of the same game, running endlessly into other days that were exactly alike. The monotony and pointlessness of it was killing her.
Ever since she’d been resurrected, Buffy couldn’t bring herself to swallow the reason for her existence that she’d so eagerly held on to since she was 15. She’d always thought she was making a difference in the world, fighting the good fight, balancing the scales of good and evil. But since coming back, that didn’t seem to matter. Every vampire she killed seemed to leave room for two more, and those left room for four more, and so on and so forth, until she felt surrounded by the undead, buried under them with never a chance for escape.
More than ever, she had longed for the sweet oblivion of death more than she’d ever longed for a normal life. Those thoughts had consumed her until that fateful night a few weeks ago when she had unleashed her anger, her sorrow, her passion, on the one person she thought she hated above all else.
Spike.
Even now, the thought of that night together was enough to make her body come alive, her skin tingle, and her breath catch in her throat. She had put up a big show of loathing and self-disgust when they woke up the next morning, the remains of the building around them. But she’d said those things because she was trying to squelch the more alarming thing growing inside of her. She had realized sometime during that night, their bodies locked together in passion, that she had finally found the one person who could truly understand her. This vampire, even without a soul, had laid her bare and tended her emotional wounds in a way that no one else had ever done before, in a way that no one else would ever think of doing.
She was dangerously close to falling in love with him, and his relentless pursuit of her in the past few weeks had been wearing her down, and he knew it. She hadn’t succumbed to him yet, but she knew she would, eventually.
Shaking herself out of the raw emotions of self-reflection, Buffy pushed away from the door and strode into the room, looking for her former watcher. The shop seemed empty, not even Anya was present, which was rare, considering how the girl loved to play with the cash register and count the loose change.
She began to scan the room, looking for a familiar face in the dark corners and doorways.
Why was no one ever around when she needed them?L.A. – The Hyperion Hotel
Angel’s heart clenched as he descended the stairs and took in the sight of Cordelia rocking his son. The baby’s small frame fit perfectly in her arms, his mouth nuzzled against her chest, his cheeks rosy, eyes closed in sleep. In that moment, he envied his son tremendously.
It had come upon him so unexpectedly, this all-consuming love for Cordelia. Where one day there had been warm, intense friendship, the next it had exploded into a fireworks display of feelings that had consumed his soul. She haunted his dreams, making his waking life a practice in self-restraint. He had to keep himself from touching her too much, from pulling her into his arms and declaring his love to her, or from kissing her senseless and carting her upstairs to his room.
His curse had been a non-issue since Darla; he’d reached such a pit of despair that the resulting epiphany had anchored his soul. He’d seen Lorne about it, and the green demon reassured him that his soul was indeed there to stay. While that journey of discovery had been painful, the result was a gift that he’d never thought possible. Happiness was within his grasp.
Happiness was sitting in front of him, cradling his son in her arms.
Angel smiled softly at her, his insides warming instantly the moment she noticed him.
“Shhh,” Cordelia admonished, whispering. “He’s finally asleep. He was screaming loud enough to wake the dead.”
“He did,” Angel said, grinning at his own joke.
Cordelia rolled her eyes at him. “Ha, ha. Funny, big guy.”
She stood up, confident at the depth of the baby’s sleep and put him gently in the portable crib on the other side of the room.
Walking back over to Angel, she said quietly, “So I assume last night was a success?”
“Yup. Those particular demons are no longer a problem.”
“Good,” Cordelia said. Their eyes met and the intensity in his sent heat flooding through her. She didn’t understand him lately. She kept getting these . . . looks from him. The increase in inner heat had her taking her coat off and throwing it onto the couch.
She was startled to hear a growl from the vampire in front of her. “What the hell are you wearing, Cordelia?”
Cordy looked down at her outfit, puzzled by her outburst. She took in the gauzy halter top, it’s neckline plunging between her breasts but covering both adequately. Her navel peaked out from the opening in the front, her tattoo dancing from the opening in the back. Her lower body was encased in form-fitting velvet pants, the soft material hugging her curves, but covering her from waist to ankle.
“What’s the big deal, Angel? You’ve seen me dressed in less than this before. I’m supposed to go out with Fred tonight.”
“You are not going anywhere in that,” he growled, angered that she didn’t see what he did.
His eyes had nearly popped from their sockets when she’d removed the calf-length coat and he’d caught sight of her attire. The shirt, though it covered her, was nearly see through, her miniscule bra not doing nearly enough to cover her breasts underneath. In fact, the outline of it drew his eyes to her chest, making his hands itch to touch her.
The pants were worse. The velvet surface begged to be touched, and even though it seemed soft, he knew that the skin it covered was infinitely softer. The pants were skin tight, and since no panty lines were visible, he knew that she had some very enticing underwear on.
“Go change, Cordelia. Now,” he ordered, not caring if she thought he was domineering. There was no way in hell that she was going to go out, to a club with men in it, looking like that. He mentally rifled through his closet in his head. Yeah, he thought he had an ankle length parka she could wear. That would be much better.
Cordelia’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t know what the hell has been wrong with you lately, Angel, but you need to knock it off. I am not about to let you dictate to me what I can and cannot wear. You are not my husband, my boyfriend, or my boss. You are my friend, and that does not come with the right to order me around.”
She stepped closer to him, her face inches from his. “I am going to wear this tonight. If you don’t like it, screw you.”
With that threat, she turned and stalked into Wesley’s office, anxious to escape him.
Immediately, Angel felt bereft at the loss of her presence. He let out a long-suffering sigh, realizing he was going to have to apologize for his actions. Again.
The last thing he wanted was to be the recipient of a full force of a Cordelia Chase Silent Treatment.Sunnydale – The Magic Box
After scanning the front room quickly and finding it empty, Buffy headed toward the back rooms.
“Giles?” Buffy called.
His muffled voice came from the somewhere in the rear of the shop. “In here, Buffy. I’ll be out in a minute,” he said.
Buffy just smiled, reassured that he was there. Of all the things in her life, Giles was the one person who could always reassure her, make her feel better, even if it was only momentarily. Where Spike sparked fire within her, awakening feelings that threatened to both consume and heal her, Giles was the softer side of her emotions, nurturing, loving, and supportive.
As she waited for him, she noticed a new object on the counter. It was a black stone sphere, small swirls and lines covering its surface. She picked it up in her hand and rolled it over, her finger tracing the line that intersected it.
Looking more closely, she realized that there was a small space between the two halves of the sphere, as if they weren’t actually connected. She held it up to her eye, and peered through the slit. There was no center attachment holding the parts together. It was as if they were glued together magically.
Intrigued, Buffy decided to try to open it. If there was space there, it must be able to open. She took each half firmly, one into each hand, and pulled.
Nothing happened.
Frowning, she examined it again, then placed her hands. This time she twisted, and the orb responded.
Just as she felt it move, she heard Giles gasp, “Buffy, don’t touch that!”
It was too late. She looked up at Giles with uncharacteristic fear on her face, right before she was blinded by a cloud of light surrounding her.L.A. – The Hyperion Hotel
Angel followed Cordelia into Wesley’s office, standing near the door as he watched her stiffened shoulders with resignation. He ran over his speech in his head, making sure that he tweaked it a little bit so that it didn’t sound like the last 20 or so apologies he’d made. She probably wouldn’t appreciate the fact that he recycled.
Even though she knew he was behind her, Cordelia ignored him. It was true that she was in love with him, but he didn’t know that, and right now she wasn’t about to tell him. If he thought he could order her around when she was just his friend, she shivered at the thought of how domineering he might be if she was his girlfriend.
In an effort to distract herself, Cordelia noticed the black orb on Wesley’s desk, its gleaming surface begging to be touched. She hefted the object in her hand, surprised at its weight. Running her fingers lightly over the etchings, she wondered absently what the words meant.
The lobby doors opened behind Angel as he stood and watched Cordelia stroking the sphere, wishing her fingers were stroking him instead. Wesley pushed passed him, his eyes wide with shock.
“Cordelia, put that down immediately!” he cried.
Cordelia just frowned at him, and tossed the sphere from one hand to the other. Wesley’s heart stopped in the millisecond that the orb was in flight.
“What’s the matter, Wesley? Didn’t they teach you how to share in nursery school?” Cordelia taunted, her earlier argument with Angel making her snottier than usual.
Wesley was nearly hyperventilating. “Cordelia, put it down slowly and back away. We don’t know what the orb means. It could hurt you.”
Angel came alive at that statement. “Cordy, put it down,” he demanded.
Her eyes narrowed and she grasped the sphere in both hands. “You two are the worst pair of scared old ladies I’ve ever seen. ‘Don’t touch that, Cordelia.’ ‘Don’t go there, Cordelia.’ ‘Don’t wear that, Cordelia.’ Geez, I’m a big girl, I think I can handle it.”
Both men visibly blanched at her icy glare.
“This thing is harmless. Look.” She pulled at the two halves. “See? Nothing. It doesn’t even open.” In an effort to further her argument, Cordelia twisted it, only to find herself enveloped in a haze of blinding light.
“Oops,” she said before she disappeared into the cloud, her now terrified eyes catching Angel’s.Sunnydale – The Magic Box
Giles panicked as he lost sight of Buffy in the cloud of white light. He reached for her, only to be repelled by a strong force surrounding the light. He didn’t have time to find a way around it, and he didn’t need to. As quickly as it had appeared, the light dissipated and Buffy was left standing there, the orb clutched between her two hands.
She looked at him, her eyes wide with fright.
“Giles!” she exclaimed, her eyes rolling back in her head as she slumped to the floor, the orb rolling harmlessly away from her.L.A. – The Hyperion Hotel
Angel lunged for Cordelia the moment she’d said “oops,” only to be thrown back across the room and slammed against the wall. He growled, vamping out at the barrier between himself and Cordelia.
“Do something, Wesley!” he growled, his eyes glowing with amber fire.
Wesley stood helplessly, his mind racing. Before he even had time to formulate a hypothesis, the light dispersed and Cordelia was once again in view, her hands gripping the sphere tightly.
Her eyes were huge, darting around the room in disbelief.
“Oh, God. Angel?” she said, her eyes finding his. Then, they fluttered closed and she sank to the ground, the orb landing with a soft clink near her hand.
Part 1
Every nerve in Angel’s body was on high alert, his ears buzzing as the vampire equivalent of adrenaline rushed through his system. After a moment of incredulity when Cordelia passed out, he rushed frantically to her side, calmed only slightly by the steady heartbeat and even breathing.
She lay still on her back, sprawled out on the floor, her hair pooling around her head, one arm curled up near her face. Her features were peaceful, ironic considering how she’d come to be lying there. Angel gently snuck one arm under her neck, her head lolling back as he lifted her, the ends of her short hair brushing the floor. His other hand came up to stroke the soft skin of her cheek, then moved down her body as he checked for signs of injury.
Finding none, he tried to revive her. “Cordelia, wake up.” He shook her gently, but she remained impassive. “Cordy, baby, it’s Angel. Wake up.”
Wesley looked on anxiously, his attention focused on Cordelia, but he still noticed Angel’s unintentional endearment. He shook his head briefly, a reflex action to accompany his thoughts. When were those two ever going to get on the same wavelength? They were obviously in love with each other, but neither of them were unbiased enough to stand back and view each other objectively. Someday, maybe they’d take off the blinders and grasp the possibility of bliss that was staring them in the face.
Shaking himself from his musings, Wesley knelt on Cordelia’s other side, clinically assessing her condition. Having seen many unconscious people in line of work, Wesley realized that Cordelia probably wouldn’t come around for awhile yet.
“Angel,” Wesley addressed him softly, the confident steadiness of his voice drawing Angel’s worried gaze to his face. “Why don’t you lay her on the couch in the lobby? It’s not uncommon for people who are affected by paranormal objects like this to be unconscious for a long while.”
Even though Wesley meant to reassure Angel with his suggestion, he could see that it had the opposite effect. Angel’s face had darkened considerably when Wesley’s implication sank in.
“What do you mean, ‘a long while’?” Angel said, his voice nearly a growl.
Wesley’s eyes darted everywhere but Angel’s face as he frantically backpedaled. “Ahem, well, um . . . I’m fairly certain that she’ll wake within the next few hours,” he said, knowing that he really had no idea.
“She’d better,” Angel said, his tone indicating that Wesley would be held responsible if Cordelia didn’t wake up in that time frame.
After one more stern look at his friend, Angel did as Wesley suggested, never breaking his watchful gaze on Cordelia’s face as he picked her up gently and carried her to the sofa. Only when he laid her tenderly on the velvet surface did he turn to face Wesley, his face carefully neutral.
“What’s your plan, Wesley?” Angel said. His mouth was set in a grim line, and he crossed his arms as he stood facing him, his feet planted firmly. His stance screamed “meanacing authority,” but Wesley had seen that before and wasn’t intimidated by it.
He was taken aback by the question, though. Angel’s made it sound like Wesley should have a detailed, well thought out plan, and right this instant. He had nothing. All he knew was that he’d received this object mysteriously; besides that, he had jack squat. The only thing he could think of was to call Sunnydale, a task that didn’t excite him in the slightest.
“I guess I’m going to call Giles. Cordelia thought it was from him,” Wesley finally answered, shrugging his shoulders in frustration. He faced Angel, crossing his arms and mimicking Angel’s stance.
“You guess?” Angel said angrily. “I hope you can do better than that.”
“What exactly do you want me to do, Angel? That thing,” Wesley gestured dramatically to the orb on the floor, “is as much of a mystery to me as it is to you. I don’t have all the answers.” He was starting to get pissed that Angel was backing him into a corner like this.
It wasn’t as if he’d shoved the orb into Cordelia’s hands and said, “Here, twist this, please.” Cordelia got into enough trouble on her own, thank you very much. Angel should be thanking him for trying to stop her, not blaming him for her current state.
Then again, Angel could never be accused of being a slave to logic. His methods might be generally successful, but his reasoning was often driven solely by emotion, throwing common sense completely out the window. Wesley had grown exceedingly tired of trying to predict the vampire’s mood swings, especially where Cordelia was concerned.
“So you think Giles might be able to help?” Angel asked, mildly placated by the fact that Wesley at least had one option.
“It’s the only thing I’ve got right now. I can research, but we all know that takes forever to produce anything useful, and I honestly don’t know what this thing did to her. We may not have time; we may have forever. I just don’t know.”
Angel sighed, He began pacing the section off floor in front of Cordelia’s prone figure, one hand rubbing his jaw .
After a moment of contemplation, Angel nodded, then sighed, obviously not needing the breath but needing the release of frustration.
“Damn it. It just had to be Sunnydale.” Angel shook his head ruefully.
“Is there something particularly wrong with the package coming from Sunnydale?” Wesley attempted to make the question sound innocent, but he was really curious to find out what had Angel so irritated.
Hesitating, Angel tried to decide how to answer that two-edged question. Hell, he didn’t even know if he knew the answer, but he supposed Wesley should have all the information if he was going to be successful in reversing this disaster. “I just didn’t want to see them again for awhile. When I went to see Buffy after she came back, it was . . . weird.”
The word was inadequate to express what Angel was feeling and both men knew it.
“Weird as in awkward, or weird as in ‘My God, that was hellish’?”
A grim smile crossed Angel’s face at Wesley’s uncharacteristic question. He was tempted to say the latter, but it hadn’t been quite that bad. Almost, but not quite.
His long lost love hadn’t been as anxious to see him as he’d thought she’d be. She was edgy, nervous even, the whole time they were together. She was different somehow, and that, combined with the fact that Angel had already said goodbye to her forever, made the meeting intensely uncomfortable. At the time, it had felt like a splinter under his skin, irritating and chafing; painful, but virtually irremovable.
That feeling had rushed back in full force when Wesley had revealed the package’s origins.
Angel searched Wesley’s confused eyes, the vampire’s expression revealing his frustration. “I’d eventually moved on after she died, and when she came back, I didn’t know what to think. That trip away last summer helped me sort everything out in my mind, and I was able to bring an ending to that chapter in my life. While it was a painful experience, it felt good to have closure.” He paused again, not finished, searching for words.
Wesley held still, not wanting to interrupt one of these rare glimpses into Angel’s soul.
“Then when I came back home, I saw Cordelia, and I just . . .” he trailed off, staring down into Cordelia’s sleeping face.
“You just knew?” Wesley said, finishing the sentence for him.
“Yeah,” Angel said, unfolding his arms and rubbing the back of his neck absently, his other hand sliding into his pocket. “I just knew.”
Angel looked up at his friend, the naked truth shining in his eyes. “I love Cordelia, Wesley, and it scares the hell out of me.”Sunnydale
“What the bloody hell do you mean, she won’t wake up?” Spike demanded, his face contorted in an expression of frustrated helplessness.
“Just what I said, Spike. Nothing I’ve tried to revive her will work,” Giles said, exasperated with the vampire. Giles was just as worried, arguably more so, but he wasn’t one to wear his heart on his sleeve.
Giles’ heart had nearly stopped when he’d seen Buffy fall to the floor earlier, the orb rolling from her fingers. He’d rushed to her side and tried to wake her, but nothing he’d done had had the slightest effect. All he knew to do now was wait. Her vital signs were all normal, and it seemed likely that she would wake up soon.
It seemed likely - but it didn’t make anyone any less nervous.
The former watcher glanced around the main room of the Magic Box, noting the anxious expressions on all the faces gathered. Willow sat at the table, worrying the rings on her fingers anxiously. She’d wanted to try a spell to revive Buffy, but Giles had immediately shot the idea down, stating that more magic would probably make things worse. They didn’t know what had happened, so they couldn’t risk undoing it the wrong way.
Dawn had arrived at the Magic Box earlier that evening, seen her sister’s condition, and had reacted badly. It had been agreed that her hysteria wasn't helping matters, and Giles had quickly arranged for her to stay at one of her friend's houses for the time being.
Anya was her usual implacable, tactless self, taking inventory and dusting the shelves while the rest of them sat around, waiting for Buffy to wake up. Nothing seemed to surprise or shake her anymore, not that anything ever had.
Xander had just exacerbated the problem rather than be of help in any way, butting heads with Spike, who retaliated by provoking him into anger. The vampire, in his characteristically abrupt fashion, had made no attempt to hide his anxiety over Buffy’s condition. This had gained him no small measure of grief from Xander, who insisted on using his own worry as an excuse to remind Spike that nothing concerning Buffy was any of his business.
Spike had nearly given into his rage, the pain caused by the chip not enough of a deterrent when faced with the young man’s cutting words. Only Willow's intervention by stepping between them had prevented an all-out fight.
Buffy lay sprawled on the floor, a pillow under her head. Giles was very wary of moving her, and since there was really no place to lie down in the shop, he’d made her as comfortable with what was available. The minutes ticked by slowly as everyone waited anxiously for the slayer to return from oblivion.
So far, she had been unconscious for 45 minutes and everyone’s nerves were frayed. Giles decided that they needed some activity to alleviate some of the tension. He stood and faced the room’s occupants.
“We aren’t going to help Buffy at all by standing around like this. We need to figure out what happened to her. Let’s go over what we know, shall we?” He stared pointedly at the young people as they reluctantly gathered around him.
Satisfied that the group was sufficiently attentive, Giles went into full-blown Watcher Mode. He picked up the stone sphere and grasped it carefully in his hand, holding it up so that everyone could examine it. “I received this orb in the mail yesterday. The return address was in L.A.; I’d assumed that the orb was from Wesley, but there was no note. I believe we should contact him immediately.”
“Willow,” he turned to the redhead, who raised concerned eyes to him immediately. “I need you to do some research. Let’s see if we can figure out what language is inscribed on the orb. Xander, please channel that aggression into something constructive and help her.”
Xander had the grace to nod briefly before making his way over to the redhead, avoiding any eye contact with the glowering vampire.
“I’m not doing any research,” Spike growled, heading Giles off before he could speak.
“I don’t expect you to,” Giles said, his tone purposefully void of emotion. “I wanted to ask if you’d go on patrol. Buffy said that the number of threats lately has been higher than usual; and since she’s not able to go out herself, you’re the logical choice to take her place.”
Spike’s eyes drifted down to Buffy’s face, lingering on her peaceful features. “I don’t want to leave her,” he said, almost to himself.
Giles looked over at Xander and Willow. Thankfully, they were immersed in research and hadn’t heard Spike’s comment. Moving closer to the anxious vampire, he spoke in low, soothing tones. “Spike, while I don’t approve of this attachment you have to Buffy, I do realize that your feelings of concern are genuine. But you won’t be doing her any good by pacing around her. When she wakes up, I don’t think she’s going to appreciate you hovering over her.”
Spike hated it that the man was right, but he stalked out the door anyway, grabbing a vicious looking axe off the shelf, his duster flaring dramatically behind him.
“Hey!” Anya yelled after him, her eyebrows coming together in a fierce scowl. “That’s for sale, not for dismembering devil spawn!”
The slam of the front door and the resulting tinkle of the bell were her only answers.
Anya huffed as she turned back into the room, only to find that everyone was staring back at her.
“What?” she asked defensively. “He’ll get it all gooey. And it’s not like he ever thinks to clean up after himself. I’ll be the one left to scrub that thing until it’s fit for the showroom again. It’s thirteenth century weaponry, not non-stick cookware.”
Rolling her eyes, Anya stalked back behind the cash register, popping it open and ruffling through the bills inside. “Men are irresponsible and thoughtless,” she muttered, shooting a pointed look at Xander, who quickly turned back to the ancient pages in front of him.L.A. – The Hyperion
Angel paced in front of the couch where Cordelia lay, growling impatiently. He’d insisted that Wesley at least attempt to revive Cordelia, and the Englishman had reluctantly brought some cold water and smelling salts. They’d proven ineffective, and now they lay scattered across the room, having shattered against the wall they’d hit when Angel had hurled them in frustrated anger. Nothing they’d tried had worked, and Cordelia remained unconscious but at least stable. He glanced down again at her peaceful face; if she didn’t wake up soon, someone was going to die.
After Angel’s violent display, Wesley had retreated into the office, intending to call Giles. He’d not been gone more than a minute when all hell broke loose.
One instant Cordelia lay peacefully still, the next her face scrunched up as if she were in pain. She tossed her head back and forth, moaning and saying, “No, stop!”
Frantic, Angel knelt at her side and placed his hands on her shoulders, shaking her gently. “Cordy, wake up. It’s just a dream. Don’t be scared.”
Cordelia’s struggles only became more pronounced as Angel spoke to her, his fingers caressing her cheek as he tried to soothe her with his touch. Her hands came up and grasped his biceps, pushing against them. Her grip was quite painful.
“No, stop! Don’t touch me. Get away from me!” Cordelia groaned, her eyes still closed, her face contorted in fear and pain.
Angel spoke louder, thinking that maybe the volume of his voice would wake her up. “Cordelia, wake up. It’s just me, Angel. I’m not going to hurt you. You’re dreaming.”
His words caused Wesley to rush back into the room, the cordless phone clutched in his hand, forgotten. “What’s happening?” he asked, feeling helpless as he watched the vampire struggle to subdue her.
Angel’s ability to control her flailing body was waning. He could feel her power growing, and it frightened him. Cordelia was not normally anywhere near this strong. “She’s dreaming. She thinks I’m trying to hurt her.”
“Did you try—”
“NO!!! Leave. Me. Alone!!” Cordelia’s scream broke into Wesley’s suggestion. She shoved on Angel’s arms, putting more space between them. Her eyes shot open, one knee coming up, her foot planted firmly against his torso. With one violent thrust, Cordelia sent Angel sprawling across the room, the force of the kick so hard that he slid on the floor for a few feet before he came to a halt.
“Oh, my God,” Wesley said breathlessly.
“You can say that again,” Angel groaned, his hand reaching up to gingerly examine his cracked ribs.
Cordelia stared up at Wesley, her eyes wide and clear as her coherence had returned. She was frightened by her own power. “What did that freaky little bowling ball do to me?”
Ignoring Cordelia’s question, Angel raised himself awkwardly to his feet, keeping his distance from her for the time being.“Call Giles, Wesley. Now.”
***
The watcher’s eyes rested on the closed door of the Magic Box for some minutes after Spike exited. He knew there was something going on with Spike and Buffy, and truth be told, he wasn’t at all surprised. Buffy had a weakness for vulnerability and darkness, and despite his tough exterior, Spike had both in spades.
Not being surprised didn’t keep him from worrying, though; Spike was relatively harmless now, but they had no way of knowing if he would be incapacitated forever. And chip or not, he still didn’t have a soul.
Buffy deserved better than that.
The object of Giles’ thoughts groaned softly behind him. He went quickly to her side, kneeling down and touching his hand to her cheek. Buffy’s eyes fluttered open, unfocused at first, then wide and clear when everything came flooding back.
“What happened, Giles?”
“We're not quite sure, Buffy,” Giles said, frustrated at not being able to explain her condition. “Willow and Xander are working on it.”
“How do you feel, Buff?” Xander asked, having rushed over with Willow when they’d seen she was awake.
Buffy frowned and slowly raised herself to a sitting position. She groaned, clasping her hand on her forehead.
“I’m okay, I think. I feel kind of weak, like I’ve been drained of my strength. It’s totally weirding me out.”
Giles took charge, taking Buffy’s hand and helping her to stand up. He led her to the table where Xander and Willow had been working. “Why don’t you sit here and rest. If you feel up to it, Willow will get you a book to read. We’re trying to figure out what language is inscribed on the object.”
“Something tells me we have hours of fun ahead of us,” Buffy sighed sarcastically, the sight of the books piled on the table increasing the volume of the marching band in her head.
Pointing to a particularly thick volume, Buffy told Xander, “Pass me that one, Xan.”
Xander grabbed the book next to the one she’d requested.
“No, the one with the bunny on it.”
Anya’s eyes narrowed as she rushed over to them. “Where’s the bunny?”
“It’s some kind of furry demon, not a bunny, honey,” Xander said, his tone soothing his phobic girlfriend.
“Bunny, honey. Heh, heh. You rhymed,” Buffy giggled, pointing at Xander. “You’re funny.”
Willow looked at her strangely. “Maybe you should just rest, Buffy.”
“No, no,” Buffy said, cracking open the Bunny Demon book. “I’m okay. Fine and dandy. Peachy keen. That’s me.” She said it in a sing-songy voice, the rhythm of her words matching the pulsating beat in her head. Somehow it alleviated the pain, weirdly enough.
She finally looked up, noticing that everyone was scrutinizing her. “What?” she said, silence her only answer.
“Okay, so the jackhammer in my head isn’t exactly making concentration easy. I know I’m kinda loopy, but I’m fine. Really.” She said, her “normal Buffy” face placating them somewhat.
After a few minutes of heavy reading, Buffy slammed her book shut, jolting everyone else at the table. “Something tells me we aren’t going to find anything very easily,” she sighed, weariness lacing her tone.
Sitting back in her chair, she looked around the room, noticing the absence of Dawn and Spike. Rarely was anything going on when they weren’t at least there on the sidelines to watch.
“Where’s everybody else?” Buffy asked, her thoughts mainly on the blonde vampire.
Giles scrutinized her intently before answering. “Dawn is staying at a friend’s. Being naturally upset by your condition, we thought it best. Spike is patrolling.”
“Oh,” Buffy said, trying not to sound too disappointed. She stared at the etching on the cover of the book in front of her, unable to concentrate. Why was it that Spike occupied so much of her mental time?
Okay, so he was great in bed. Fantastic, even. And he was built. Those washboard abs, that ass . . . She shivered in remembrance, her palms beginning to sweat. But aside from the physical, what did he have going for him?
Zip. Zilch. Nada.
Not exactly a lot of items to add to the pro column. The cons, on the other hand, were numerous.
He’s a vampire; but so was Angel.
He’s annoying; but so is Anya.
He’s got a foul mouth; but so had she, lately!
He doesn’t have a soul.
That’s what the real problem should be; but since Buffy felt like her own soul was AWOL, it didn’t seem such a glaring lack as it should.
Buffy was ripped from further contemplation by a sharp, shooting pain in her head, multiplying the force of her headache exponentially.
Xander grabbed her arm as she teetered to the side, her hands grasping her head at the temples, groaning. Suddenly, everyone in the room was surrounding her, standing by helplessly as she twitched and spasmed in what almost looked like a seizure, mewling cries of pain escaping from her.
Abruptly, her eyes cleared somewhat and she looked up at the sea of faces, searching for her watcher. “Oh, God, Giles,” she whispered, the pain and dismay filling her face, tears streaking down her cheeks. “No, this can’t be happening! There was so much fear, so much pain! S/he’ll die if we don’t do something.”
Realizing that she must have had a premonition of some kind, Giles knelt carefully in front of her; placing his palms reassuringly over her knees. “What did you see, Buffy?”
Buffy opened her mouth to speak, but before she could get the words out, the shrill ring of the phone startled them all.