Go TeamC/A
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Title: Vamp SmackDown
Author: (Only)Anne (AnneB)
Posted here: 08/05
Rating: R/N-17
Category:
Content: C/A
Summary: An answer at the Dracula/Angel challenge
Spoilers:
Disclaimer: The characters in the Angelverse were created by Joss Whedon & David Greenwalt. No infringement is intended, no profit is made.
Distribution: Please ask.
Notes: I have had this idea rattling around in my head for a while now and thought that it might provide some distraction for all of us counting down to WITW. I am not really up on the whole Dracula lore, so this is just the bare bones. I hope somebody will flesh it out.
Thanks/Dedication:I have to thank Alice for giving me the incentive to write something. I don't know if this will be what you wanted as an answer to Dracula vs. Angel, but it will be my attempt. Hey, this is the first challenge I ever responded to, ooh the pressure....
Feedback:
In spoiler font. Highlight to read: - Challenge: * The Fang Gang and the Drac Pack cross paths in LA somehow. * Dracula tries to enthral Cordelia, but she doesn't bye it. * Include a flashback/ explanation to Angel and Drac's first meeting. * Bonus points if Spike is included.
Chapter 1
“Cordy, Angel can’t…can he?” Fred leaned in closer to the TV screen.
“Of course not.” Cordelia tossed more popcorn into her mouth as the small image of Gary Oldman dressed in flowing black memorized a terrified and turned on Wyona Ryder. “Pfft, Angel wishes, he could shut me up so easily. ” Cordelia shrugged.
“She seems to be kind of enjoying it. Sort of.” Fred glanced back at Cordelia.
“More proof it’s fiction. Bad fiction, but Gary Oldman is kind of sexy. Real vampires though, definitely not something I want in my bedroom, creepy, not sexy.”
“Cordy!?” Fred dropped her jaw in protest. “Angel’s a real vampire. I mean not that you want him in your bedroom, though, he does stay in there when you are sick and dying and stuff and you go into his an awful lot. But, I mean Angel’s handsome, not creepy at all.”
Wesley moved to make their presence known. He really didn’t want to listen to Fred expound on Angel’s virtues. The vampire held out his arm, stopping Wesley. Angel waited wanting to hear Cordelia’s response. Gunn remained still, smiling. He figured this could get good.
Cordelia raised both brows. “First, Angel’s bedroom is where Connor sleeps. And yes, of course Angel’s handsome. But he’s Angel, he’s no Dracula.” She pointed to the screen as Gary Oldman, acting as Dracula hypnotized his young victim played by Wyona Ryder. “ Not a dark brooding sexy spell casting fiend tantalizing and threatening young virgins.” Cordelia pursed her lips. “Okay, Angel is dark and brooding….and okay, I’ll give you maybe sexy, MAYBE. But not the other part...Unless we’re talking about Angelus, but he just terrorized and killed, not wacky weird mind erotic stuff. That’s Dracula. Pfft, she’s so stupid has she not heard of a stake. Fiction.” Cordelia got up from the couch and jumped as she saw Angel, Wesley and Gunn. “Oh, hi. We didn’t hear you come in. How did it go? Bad ugly thing dead? I don’t see why I couldn’t go. Vision-pain a thing of the past. Pfft.”
Angel just stared trying to figure out why he wanted to growl and break the TV.
“Earth to Angel? How did it go?”
“Fine.” Wesley stepped past the still silent vampire.
“What’s wrong with him? Angel,” Cordelia moved in front of the vampire waving her hand in front of his face. “You weren’t hurt were you? Let me see.” Her hands suddenly going for his leather jacket.
Angel brushed at her hands. “I wasn’t hurt. What are you watching?”
“It’s Coppola’s Dracula, definitely no Godfather.” Gunn went to the couch shaking his head in disgust. “It’s movies like this that make vamps all sexy and woman hot and bothered, but it ain’t Gary Oldman that you would be letting into your bedroom.”
“Gee, Gunn, really?” Cordelia rolled her eyes towards the black man and then turned back to Angel. “If you’re not hurt why are you so quiet. What happened? Why are you descending into major brood funkdom?”
“Why are you watching a movie about Dracula?”
“Uh,” Cordelia shrugged. “It was either that or The Brady Brides. Before my time, don’t see the appeal of Marcia and Jan’s double wedding mishaps.”
“But, you see the appeal of Dracula?”
“Sure, it’s sexy movie. Stupid but sexy.” Cordelia looked back to the screen, then back at Angel. “Did Bram Stoker even meet a vampire? Where did he come up with this stuff? Sure, he got some of it right. But the shape shifting, the ‘ohh’ gaze into my eyes crap? Come on, bats? Pfft.”
Angel looked at the TV wondering how not to answer Cordelia’s questions. He never liked Dracula. The older vampire was an arrogant showboat. Angel wasn’t sure why he was getting mad. Cordelia wasn’t enthralled with Dracula or even the concept of him, and Dracula was not realy present, just an image on the TV. So why was Angel feeling very uneasy and angry. It was Dracula. Angel, Angelus, it didn’t matter. Angel just didn’t like the older vampire.
“You don’t know. Gee, what’s good about being so old if you can’t give first hand gossip? Hmmph.”
“Stoker knew Dracula.”
Cordelia turned from her path and headed straight back for Angel. “Stoker knew Dracula? You mean he knew a vampire. Dracula is fictional. Based on Vlad the Impaler, who was alive in the 15th century. Stroker didn’t write Dracula until the 19th century. What I read, know stuff, Geez. The highlights aren’t real you know.” Cordelia glared at the other’s surprised expressions. Well, everybody but Angel. He didn’t look surprised that Cordelia would know who actually wrote Dracula; Angel just looked annoyed.
Angel shrugged. “Vlad, whatever. Dracula was real. Egotistical wanted to be famous, so he got Stoker to immortalized him. It wasn’t enough that he could live forever, he wanted everyone to know. Arrogant bastard.”
Fred got off the couch and headed over to Angel, anticipation clear on her face. Gunn even moved closer. Wesley raised his brow at the vampire. “Was? Dracula’s death was never recorded in the Council’s archives.”
Cordelia’s gaze broke away from Angel and turned on Wesley. “You knew?”
Wesley shrugged and took of his glasses. “One of Stoker’s intimates, Gerald St. John, was on the council, unknown to Stoker of course. St. John was intrigued by Stoker’s work of ‘fiction’; several of the characteristics of his gothic villain fit the true traits of a vampire. And as Bram Stoker was closer to an stereotypical Irish literary figure than his biographies elude, St. John proceed to keep Stoker ‘entertained’ and drunk until St. John got the whole story.”
“And” Gunn waved his hands.
Angel rolled his eyes and headed for the stairs. “I’m going to check on Connor.” Seeing his son was a far sight better than listening to Wesley talk about the origins of Bram Stoker’s Dracula. Angelus lived through it. It was the book’s popularity and Dracula’s annoying presence in London to reap the benefits of his sudden celebrity that Angelus, Darla, Drusilla, and Spike headed for Romania. In retrospect, Angel was grateful that they left otherwise he may have never been cursed with a soul in 1898 and the miraculous blessings of his family he received over an hundred years after that. But at the time, the burgeoning ‘legend’ of Dracula had just pissed Angelus off. And Angel now, even with a soul couldn’t find one good thing to say about the older vampire.
“So, what got into his blood wheaties?” Cordelia’s eyes followed Angel’s ascent upstairs. “He’s grumpy.” Cordelia looked back to Wesley and Gunn. “Everything did go okay? Right? I mean, you killed the demon, saved the people, no weird, well extra weird stuff happened, did it? No blondes showed up?”
“It was cool.” Gunn shrugged.
Cordelia scrunched up her face and sighed. She would find out later what was wrong with her best friend. Angel had been acting strange lately and Cordelia was not going to sit by and wait like she did during Angel’s so called ‘beiged’ period. That had been a horrible mistake. One that she would never do again. But, Angel just seemed broody not cold so she could hear what Wesley had to say. “So spill, Wesley. What did the St. guy find out?”
“St. John. Well, it seemed that Dracula met Stoker in a pub in 1890. Stoker wasn’t sure why Dracula picked him to write his story, but he did. The vampire knew that Stoker was a writer. Bram Stoker had just published his first novel.”
“The dude wrote stuff other than Dracula?” Gunn asked from his position on the lobby counter.
“Yes, but he’s best known for Dracula . Actually, The Lady of the Shroud and The Lair of the White Wormwere written in the early part of the 20th century, they are quite interesting….”
“Wes, DRACULA.” Cordelia interrupted impatiently.
“Oh, right.” Wesley put on his glasses. “Well, that’s it really as far as the novel goes. Dracula told of his original trip from Transylvania to England.”
“He was really from Transylvania?” Fred shifted in her chair.
“What about the bat thing? I never saw a vamp turn into a winged rat, never. Seen rats and vamps in LA, never were they one in the same, acted the same but weren’t, you know, the same.”
“Did he look like Bela Logsi or Gary Oldman? Did he get any of the franchise rights from his name and imagine. Geez, if he did, wow.” Cordelia looked back up at the stairs. “Why couldn’t have Angelus done that, instead no, he just pillaged and plundered with Darla, no concept of the future.”
The occupants of the lobby, as well as Angel who had come down stared at Cordelia. Angel decided that while he wanted no part of the talk about Dracula, he wanted to make sure that Cordelia realized that the count vampire was an asshole. Angel wasn’t sure why, but Angel was aware of the appeal of the fictionalized Dracula had to a lot of the female mortal population and he just wanted to make sure Cordelia knew the truth. Not that he thought she would ever romanticize the vampire or any vampire for that matter.
Cordelia was pretty adamant about the disadvantages and 'eww' factor of ever being attracted to a vampire. Regretfully. Angel shook his head. Angel wished Fred had never mentioned the ‘K’ word, Lorne never read him, never said at loud Angel’s hidden thoughts about the seer, that she was an extraordinary, beautiful woman. Angel wished he never saw Cordelia leaning in the doorframe of his bedroom dressed to the nines, in a dress that hid nothing of her glorious curves. For that matter, Angel wished he never saw or touched the flesh of those curves. Sure, tormented lovers had possessed them at the ballet, but that didn’t change the fact that Angel remembered the taste and feel of Cordelia’s skin. Angel gulped the cross between a groan and growl back down his throat. And there was the fact that the Cordelia was able to be in ‘love’ with Groo. That idiot had been a demon, well half demon. Thank god, she realized that she wasn’t in love with him, just in love with the idea of being in love with the buff cartoon hero.
Angel was just glad that he hadn’t gone with his first instinct when he saw Groo standing in his hotel, kissing his seer. It was much better that Cordelia realized her mistake while he had been supportive rather than Angel just killing the Plyea deposed ruler on sight. But the fact that she could be attracted to Groo, a half demon…Angel hid his sigh. Doyle was a half demon, too. Obviously, Cordelia wasn’t a demonphope; she just wasn’t attracted to Angel. Angel wished he could blame it on being a vampire. But…Angel perked up. It just wasn’t that he was a vampire demon, but there was the threat of Angelus. That would make any intelligent woman afraid to be attracted to him. Angel frowned again. Except Angelus didn’t exist anymore. He perked up again. Cordelia didn’t know that. No one did, except maybe Lorne. Angel frowned again. That green demon knew way too much for Angel’s peace of mind.
Angel looked up as he finally realized that no one had commented on Cordelia’s question or statement, that now they all were staring at him. “What?”
Cordelia rolled her eyes. “You’re acting weird. All, I meant was that if Angelus had felt the need to be immortalized by fiction and had kept the residual rights. You could’ve had a cereal named after you. It couldn’t be Count Angelus….” Cordelia paused. “Was Dracula even a real Count? Well, if Angelus had…no Notre Dame worries, bills paid, and a ski condo…..and a boat. Hmmph.”
The eyes of the room were back on Cordelia. “What?” she shrugged off their stares and turned to Angel. “So, did Dracula look like Bela or Gary…or Frank Langella…Please don’t tell he looked like George Hamilton? No vampire is that tanned, not even close, maybe Jason Patrick or Kiefer Sutherland?” Cordelia finished hopefully.
Wesley took off his glasses again. “Where was I? I have no inclination. Was I talking about Bram Stoker? I seem to recall it, but now I’m not sure.”
“None of the above. The copyright went to Stoker, so no residuals. Yes. And no robot chipmunks on ice or moonlit cruises.” Angel said.
Now Wesley, Gunn, and Fred’s eyes were on Angel.
“Hmmph. No fun.” Cordelia pouted.
“How’d he do that? The vamp understood.” Gunn nudged at Fred.
“Kryemption, it is the only explanation. And you think I babble.” Fred nudged her glasses.
“That wasn’t babble that was a hyperbola, only capable by Cordelia.” Wesley whispered.
“Wes, you were telling us about Stoker and Dracula. Hurry up. It’s close to Connor’s singing time. Is he already asleep?” Cordelia looked to the vampire.
“Yes.” Angel said.
“Well, thank you very much, Mr. Long wind.” Cordelia glared at Wesley.
Wesley just blinked and shoved on his glasses. “Once, St. John knew that Stoker had gotten his story from a real vampire, he went back to the council and started the recording of Dracula. It turns out that the story that Stoker told was primarily accurate as to the individuals involved. There was a Jonathan and Mina Parker, Lucy, and Van Hessling etc.. The names and time period were changed but not by much. The only place that Stoker took dramatic license was in Dracula’s supernatural traits- no, shape-shift ability, animal or mist, or hypnotic power over his victims and of course Dracula’s demise at the end of the novel. Physical appearance, I don’t know. There is no known authentic picture of Dracula.”
“If the book is substantially true, then the majority of Dracula’s enemies lived, but if he didn’t die why did he let them live?” Cordelia asked. “Angelus wouldn’t have.” Cordelia looked at Angel for confirmation.
Angel narrowed his eyes at the young woman. Ever since the night at the ballet, the appearance of Groo and the leaving of Groo, Cordelia had been bringing up his soulless identity more and more. It was always in a matter fact tone but always recounting some horrible act of the vampire he had been or what he would do in a current situation if he were too lose his soul. Angel had truly been angry when he had overheard her talking to Connor about Angelus. The only reason he didn’t act on his anger was because Cordelia had immediately changed her tune and tone, apologizing too the infant. She then proceeded to tell the baby how brave and wonderful Angel was.
Cordelia hadn’t known Angel was outside the door. Angel knew this because if she had he would’ve have never seen the tears and the abject sincerity and remorse on her face as she hugged Connor, telling the small baby not to listen to her last bit of nonsense, that she was just in a cranky mood that Connor was so very lucky to have a father like Angel that they all were lucky to have the vampire in their lives. And then she told Connor how Angel saved the world. Angel didn’t quite remember saving the world but Cordelia made him sound quite brave and strong. His anger had disappeared in that moment of seeing Connor in Cordelia’s arms and her whispering exaggerated and heroic tales of Angel. Then when she finally noticed the vampire’s presence, she placed the baby gently in his bassinet and ran to Angel, clutching his shirt. And told him never not to believe that he wasn’t good, wonderful and a spectacular father. Angel tried to grab her but in that instant his vampire reflexes weren’t up too the task. Cordelia ran from the hotel. The next morning the tears, the sorrow, the regret were gone, all that was shown was cheeriness and a great big smile.
Wesley spoke filling the vampire’s silence. “Actually, we don’t know that for sure. Van Holen the true Van Hessling lived a natural life span.”
“Van Holen? He was an amazing. He was a scholar on so many different levels. A doctor, psychologist, mathematician….He should have won Nobel Peace Prize. But…” Fred frowned trying to remember the facts. “He just disappeared.”
“Yes, he had made some enemies and doubters in his interest in the supernatural.” Wesley aided the young woman’s memory. “And when the academic scoffed at his very legitimate theory on certain psychotic disorders he withdrew from that world and concentrated on the supernatural. Van Holen was a great source for the Council. Very revered. As for James and Miranda Patterson they disappeared, their last records tracing them to America.”
“Dracula killed them.” Angel said.
Wesley rubbed his brow. “Oh, I’d hoped they lived a long life after their encounter.”
“They got on the ship, but never left England. No, there was a big party in London. Dracula still had influence over the woman. She led her husband to the….” Angel paused. “The event. After a time, Dracula gave them to the appreciative audience after making them jump through a bloody bizarre circus performance.”
“Influence? The hypo wacky mind stuff was real?” Cordelia stepped back from Angel.
Angel wanted to step forward and reassure the young woman. The sudden influx of fear centering on her, compelled him to ease it, to make it go away. But, Angel was also afraid. Cordelia had already compiled so many reasons, most very valid, as to why Angel would never be an object of her affection other than as a friend. He didn’t want to add one more. He started to try to explain but Cordelia interrupted him.
“I’ve experienced a few vampire’s in my time, Angelus included. None of them ever did that mind mojo. NONE.”
Angel waited two seconds, taking a breath, trying to figure out what to say. The others in the hotel had become still at the fate of James and Miranda, now they were just waiting for his answer. Cordelia had been the only one to speak and now she was silent and scared. Of him.
“When Stoker’s novel was written, Dracula had been a vampire for several hundred years. Those years he spent as a Count in Transylvania. After the first hundred he stopped hiding his true nature. Or at least he encouraged the awe and terror of the superstition that surrounded him. But as the many years went on, human blood became harder too get. His holdings were located in the darkest and wildest part of Eastern Europe. People didn’t flock there. The peasants that weren’t willingly submissive or just plain terrified left, as a result the supplies dwindled. That’s why he left for England. Britain was soon to enter into its industrial age. Queen Victoria was a powerful ruler. England was where to be. The New World was showing strength and promise, but it wasn’t old. It didn’t have the grandeur, the elitist society, yet. So, Dracula came to London. “ Angel paused. He hadn’t really explained anything, but he was stalling to gather his words. He didn’t want to frighten or disturb his human family. Angel knew that they knew vampires, but he also, knew that they didn’t, not really.
“Shape-shifting, no. Not a vampire trait. But, Dracula could. His isolation allowed him the time to learn magic. His hypnosis…Vampire’s can manipulate a human’s mind…If they know how.” He added quickly at the human’s gasp. “Not all vampire’s know how, most don’t care to know. Most have no use for it. Dracula has the ability to enthrall a human. He liked it. It was more of the submissive adoration that he was use too. So, he was able to get to the women, cuz he could get into their mind. They let him in. Willingly, sort of.”
“Angelus, YOU?” Cordelia glared and choked at the same time.
Angel thought a moment. It actually didn’t take long to figure out the answer that would satisfy his clearly agitated seer. “Angelus never bothered. And when have I ever been able to control or manipulate you into doing anything that you didn’t want to?”
Cordelia scrunched up her face. “You have that ‘look’, that puppy dog face.” She glared at Angel.
Angel was saved from trying to answer by Wesley. “Cordelia. Please. We are talking about a vampire’s ability for mind control over a mortal, not Angel’s pathetic attempts to get you to listen to him and at least pretend to do what he asks.”
Angel thought he should be offended or angry, but since the glare was off Cordelia’s face, he decided he would just be grateful to Wesley.
“Hmmph sounds all fishy to me. Okay, I’m bored. Dracula is/was real. Don’t care. Don’t even care that brood guy didn’t say what the most popular vamp looked liked.” Cordelia paused. “So, is Lestat real? Does he look like Tom Cruise?”
“NO.” Both Angel and Wesley yelled. The men looked at each other and added in a more controlled tone. “Anne Rice’s vampire’s are truly fiction.”
“Damn. Louis sounded really cute. And Brad Pitt, too die for. Oh well, I’m going to see if Connor wants to wake up for a song.”
“Cordy.” Angel called.
“I won’t wake him, don’t worry, Geez. But, if he’s asleep, I’ll just have to stay. I’m not leaving until I get my goodnight ‘Bssblurp’ from him.”
Chapter 2
“I’m bored.” The tall dark vampire draped his long leg over the plush velvet armrest. “MORTIMOR, I said, I AM BORED.”
A thin distinguished human walked into the great hall, his age anywhere between 40 and 60. His bony frame wrapped in an old styled black butler uniform. “I heard, Master.” Bowing at that figure lounging in antique chair.
“So, what are you going to do about it?” Long well manicured fingers tapped firmly on a sinewy muscled thigh.
Mortimer studied the dark vampire. His hair was pure black hanging straight and heavy down to his shoulders. The vampire’s unnaturally pale face showed no evidence of his true years. The features were angular and aristocratic, striking in their youth and beauty. The eyes were as black as the hair, the full lips pulling down in a frown reflecting the vampire’s ennui.
“You have a suggestion, Master?”
Count Dracula swung his leg back to the floor, resting his elbows on his knees, his fingers tapping together underneath his chin. The vampire’s eyes narrowed, his gaze cutting into the human. “If I did I wouldn’t be bored or have to ask, now would I? Do you want to die, Mortimer?”
“Truthfully, Master, yes.”
Dracula leaned back up resting his back against the chair. “You wound me, Mortimer. You do not find your service to me satisfying?”
Mortimer’s gray eyes remained steady. “As satisfying as decades of torture and mental anguish can allow, Master.”
“Mortimer, Mortimer, I haven’t had to torture you in years. As it been too long? You still haven’t forgiven me for killing your wife and enslaving you, have you? Mortimer, that was a hundred years, ago.”
“97, Master. And living beyond my natural life span as become tiring.”
“You’re tired? What about me? I have been alive a lot longer.” Dracula jumped up from the chair.
“Master, is it your desire for me too stake you to end your misery? I’d be happy too.”
Dracula laughed, slapping the human on his back. “See, you still have your sense of humor. British dry wit, a must in a loyal servant. No, Mortimer, just find me something to do that will end this hateful tedium.” Dracula sighed.
“It’s your birthday isn’t it? That’s what has gotten you in this mood.” Mortimer signed. Someday soon, maybe his master would just kill him, but it didn’t look like it would be today.
“Yes, another year of boredom under my belt.” Dracula went to the heavily draped window, peering out into the black night. “Tell me again why I came back here.”
“It’s the land of your birth, your eternal life, the soil beckons to you, the blood of your vassals flows through your veins calling you home.”
“No, really, why? It’s boring here. And my VASSALS worship McDonald’s more than me. Where has the fear gone, I ask you? I’ll tell you, Big Macs, DVD players and Coca Cola. Disgraceful.” Dracula turned on his servant. “Why didn’t you remind me how boring it was here?”
“I believe it was because your last attempt to find some excitement ended with you be driven out of the Hellmouth by the slayer. I agreed that it was best that you leave.”
“DRIVEN OUT, I was not driven out by that child. I left. The appeal of slayers has been way overrated. She was boring.”
“Of course, Master.” Mortimer bowed again. There had been a moment there in the end that Mortimer actually thought that the Slayer would succeed in killing the vampire. But it was not to be. Mortimer should have known, his good fortune seemed to have left him 97 years ago, when he announced the dark Count’s presence at the ball given by his then employer, the Baroness Rothschild. The vampire attention was not only focused on Mortimer’s lovely employer, but on him. It seemed that Dracula was impressed by his skills as a butler. It seemed his last human servant had gone completely insane at the Count’s torture and manipulations and ended up in an asylum where he did nothing but eat flies, spiders and birds. After several weeks of delicate and dark seduction the Baroness ended up as a vampire and after torture and mind manipulation, Mortimer as Renfield’s replacement.
“Why have you disturbed me, Mortimer, if it is not to relieve my weariness.”
“I’ve received a fax from the Baroness.”
Dracula rolled his eyes. “Disappointing childe. I’d hoped that her aristocratic breeding would follow onto her undead life. But, no. She’s become just as common as the rest of the world. But, at least I found you.”
“For that I am eternally grateful, Master.”
“Really, Mortimer, sarcasm? I expect better from you. What does my childe want?”
“She wishes to hold a gala for your birthday. It seems that Hollywood is once again attempting to tell your legend. The Baroness feels that it’s premiere would be an excellent time to prepare a magnificent tribute in your honor. She has all the preparations planned, all she waits for is your permission.”
“Another one.” Dracula went back to his chair. “I don’t know, Mortimer, they’re always so disappointing. They never capture the true me and I always end up dead. Bela Lugosi, do I look like Bela Lugosi, do I?”
“Master, you did allow Stoker to change your appearance and you did give approval on the death scene.”
“Approval? I let that drunken Irishman convince me that the book would be better received if good triumphed over evil. I hate the Irish. Never met one that was not uncouth. There was this vampire, Irish. Arrogant, rude. Never gave me the proper respect. And he had such a lovely sire, beautiful childe- a bit insane, but beautiful. Never understood their loyalty to him or to the other one. What was his name?”
“The Irish vampire?”
“No, the other one. It was a silly common name, Pole, Post, Nail…No. Spike, that’s it. Seems he liked to impale his victims with railroad spikes. Vulgar. Impaling victims was déclassé by the 16th century. He still owes me money. Oh well, with their violent and insolent behavior, I imagine they’ve been long dust.”
“You didn’t kill them?”
“Me? Spike wasn’t worthy of my time or energy.”
“The Irish one?”
Dracula narrowed his eyes at Mortimer. “Angelus…It was enough that I ran him out of London. Arrogant nobody. Born in a barn, I am sure. All brawn no brain, probably could not even read.”
“Angelus? I’ve heard of him.”
Dracula scowled. “Yes, he may have gotten a small reputation. Scourge or something or another of Europe. He had no style or class. A peasant. Reveled in the blood. I imagine the numbers of his kills were exaggerated. He was an arrogant bastard. Very disrespectful.”
“Again, you didn’t kill him?”
Dracula eyes became hooded and his voice cold. “I explained it was enough for him to go running from London. Don’t question me, Mortimer. I give you latitude, but always remember what you are.”
Mortimer bowed. The Count still had some issues with the other vampire. Mortimer had never seen that before. Was it merely that Angelus was uncouth and a disgrace or was it because Dracula couldn’t defeat him, not completely? The answer would remain unknown. Mortimer had heard of Angelus, he also heard that Angelus had disappeared from the vampire community in the later part of the 19th century or was it the early part of 20th. Either way, the Irish vampire’s dust must’ve been scattered to the four winds that was the only explanation for the sudden disappearance of the Scourge of Europe.
“Master, your answer to the Baroness?”
“Well, anything is better than here. We’ll go, make the arrangements.” Dracula fell back into his chair.
“Yes, Master.”
Chapter 3
Angel stopped in the doorway of his suite. Cordelia was curled up sleeping in the chair by Connor’s bassinet. How right Lorne was. Angel couldn’t deny it anymore. Angel loved her and he had absolutely nothing to offer her. Angel had started to tell Cordelia about the new direction of his feelings, but he had been interrupted by the appearance of Groo. And afterwards, he couldn’t. His courage was gone and the hopelessness of his feelings became paramount. Cordelia had made it clear that she didn’t think of Angel has nothing but a friend. Even when she came to the conclusion that Groo was not who she loved, her attitude towards the vampire remained the same.
Well. Sort of. She had started bringing up Angelus more. Cordelia’s every word about his soulless self brought up even more of a barrier to Angel’s desire to express his feelings for the young woman. There was some part of Angel that wondered if she was doing it on purpose, reminding them both with out acknowledging or saying the words that a relationship other than that of friends would be impossible between the vampire and his seer. Angel almost wished he could believe that, because that would mean, Cordelia had at least thought of the possibility, but Angel didn’t believe it. Cordelia had been so adamant that they forget everything that happened at the Ballet. She had Pfft it away as nothing.
But it had been something, not them, but still them together, kissing, feeling. Angel sighed and picked up Cordelia placing her on his bed. She stirred as he pulled her shoes off and tucked a blanket around her. “Angel?”
“Yes.”
The young woman moved more trying to sit up. “I fell asleep.”
“I saw.”
“He never woke up. Since when as Connor slept through the night?”
“He does that when…well when you are here with him.”
“I didn’t get my Blurslurp.”
“Then go back to sleep, I’m sure he will oblige in the morning.” Angel settled into the chair next to the bed.
“Okay,” she patted the empty side of the bed. “I won’t bite, promise.” She smiled as she closed her eyes and snuggled deeper into the bed.
Angel knew he shouldn’t but they had fallen asleep before together on his bed, granted Connor was present between them. But that had been wonderful. Angel remembered waking, relishing the heart beats and warmth of the most important humans ever in his life or undead life lying next to him. Cordelia had just awakened mumbling something about morning breath and Angel needing a bigger bed or Connor would get smooshed the next time.
Angel had ignored everything, but the words the ‘next time’. He had started to look for a new bed soon after. But then Groo. Angel never got a bigger bed.***
Cordelia stretched and looked up. “He’s awake.” She fumbled for her shoes, her hands reaching for the baby in Angel’s hands.
“I want…” Cordelia giggled as Connor made a small noise and sucked his lips at her, his tiny fingers grabbing for her hair as she cradled him to her chest. “Good morning sweetheart, my big tiny guy” she murmured against the soft down of Connor’s head. Cordelia looked up beaming at Angel. “And good morning to you, my other big guy.”
Angel’s smiled wishing her words were true.
Chapter 4
A week later:
Angel looked up from his desk. He scooted back in his chair; he looked to the empty space behind Cordelia. If he was really quick, he could be out of the lobby in an instant.
“Don’t even think it.” Cordelia sat on the corner of the desk.
Angel moved further away, but stayed in his chair. He didn’t like her look. It was the one that foretold her asking him to do something he just didn’t want to do for her. Cordelia had the same look when she asked him to help her have sex with Groo. He still couldn’t understand that one. Angel was very proud of the fact that he hadn’t taken her then, marking her as his and then killing Groo. For a brief moment, every demon instinct in his dead body cried for that. But he hadn’t. Angel just stammered and stumbled over his words. He didn’t even know what he had said; the red blaze of rage and the blackness of fear so clouded his mind.
“I don’t want to.” Angel felt somewhat safe with that statement. Groo was gone, so she couldn’t be asking him about finding her sex with someone else. Could she?
“You don’t even know what I want.”
“I know that look. And I don’t want to. So just don’t ask. We’ll both be happier.”
“I don’t want to make you happy, Angelus remember? So, listen up. I won two tickets to a premiere of a new movie. I was the fifth caller with the right answer. It’s at the Commodore, that old theater they been working on for like forever near the Boulevard. Supposedly, quite swanky with old style charm. Whatever. But, the movie premier and the grand opening are at the same time. And I want you to go with me.”
Angel’s thoughts stumbled over the happy- Angelus thought and tried to concentrate on what Cordelia was asking. A movie? That wasn’t so bad.
“Okay.”
“Really? Great. I thought you would be all growly and hard to convince.”
“I like movies.”
“True. But, you seem to have a problem with Dracula. And that’s the movie. Great, pick me up at 7:00 and wear your tux, there’s a party afterwards. It’s dress up.” She ran out of the room.
Chapter 5
“What are the odds, Dennis?” Cordelia gnawed on her lip as she contemplated the red long gown, its price tag still firmly attached.
The formal dress Cordelia wore to the ballet floated in the air, the absence of the price tag obvious.
“That was just a fluke, a weirdness…oh, who am I kidding. Flukiness and weirdness are my life.” Cordelia slumped on the bed. “But, Dennis, I checked out the Commodore. No history of mysterious supernatural happenings, no tormented lovers vanishing or dying. So, the odds are in my favor that there won’t be a repeat of the ballet. So, the odds are that this dress.” Cordelia held up the red strapless gown. “Can be returned tomorrow. Right? I mean, it’s a movie premiere, who can we possibly end up having to fight. Don’t answer that.” Cordelia slumped down on the bed.
Dennis floated up the new garment’s price tag. “I know. It’s even more expensive. But, Dennis, I can’t wear that one.” Pointing to the dress the ghost was still bobbing in the air. “Angel’s already seen me in it.” Cordelia scrunched up her face. “And out of it.” Mumbling to herself. She couldn’t wear that dress. Angel in his tux looking gorgeously the same as he had at the ballet. Her looking the same. It would be like begging for something similar to happen and that wasn’t ever going to happen again. And that dress had been pretty easy to get off. The red one might look like it, but the back was attached by tiny little buttons, it would take forever to get undone and the bodice may look like it may fall at anytime but actually it was pretty secure with a built in bra that locked the dress in place. That dress wouldn’t be doing anything that night but staying up and on. Cordelia looked at the red dress on the bed. “I’ll risk it. I may not be able to afford food for the next year, but I’ll risk it. You gotta have hope, Dennis or what's the point."
The difficult decision made, Cordelia walked barefoot to the bathroom. Cordelia didn’t even pause as the phone rang for the fifth time. She turned on the faucet of the tub drowning out Angel’s voice coming through the answering machine. She had stopped bothering to listen to his constant messages after the second one. The first had been waiting for her when she got home.
The first had been demanding, telling her that neither she nor he was going to the movie premiere. The second was still authoritative, but with an added whine for her to pick up. The rest of the messages Cordelia hadn’t bothered with.***
Cordelia fluffed up the curls that framed her face with quick fingers. She glanced behind her watching the buttons of the dress close. “Thanks, Dennis.” Cordelia finished applying her lipstick.
The last message from Angel came at exactly 6:30pm. He had said- his voice firm that he wouldn’t be there to pick her up that he wasn’t going to a stupid movie about an asshole vampire. Cordelia was just going to have to deal with it.
“Necklace or no.” She said to her reflection. The lid of her jewelry box closed. “No, then.” She looked at the clock. It was 6:59 pm. “All, I can say is, Angel better just appreciate that I’m early.”
Cordelia went to the door as it knocked exactly one minute later.
“You didn’t answer your phone or call me back.” Angel strode past her.
“No reason to, you made your position clear. By the way, you look very nice. I see you got the drool off.” Angel did look nice. More than nice. Wow. Drool worthy all over again.
Angel pulled at his tux jacket and finally looked at her. His jaw dropped. Angel had thought she looked gorgeous the night of the ballet, but she hadn’t not really, this night she was glorious. His eyes grazed over her, not knowing where to stop. The dress was a deep red, the bodice snuggly wrapped around her perfect breast. Angel could say that. He had seen them and touched and tasted them. They were perfect. The dress fell straight down hugging the swell of her hips only to flare out at the hem. Delicate bright red toes peeked out from the confines of strappy red sandals. His eyes raced back up to her face. Her hair was full, framing her beautiful face with wild curls. Angel gulped. He wanted to run his fingers through them.
“Does your silence mean you approve or disapprove?” Cordelia turned for him.
Buttons, a lot of tiny little buttons graced the back of the dress. Angel liked buttons. He had always had fun undoing them. Fangs were good for things other than feeding. Angelus had gotten the skill down to a science. Darla had hated to have the tiny pearl buttons of her dresses replaced. He never tore them unless he wanted to. And Angel knew that like all of his other skills developed as Angelus that one remained. As did the appeal of the tiny objects, especially when they hinted at the promise of Cordelia’s hidden flesh.
His eyes reached back to her face as Cordelia completed her slow full circle.
“Well? Pretty, gorgeous, sexy, at least not a disgrace?”
Angel gulped. “Um….all of them?” Angel had to get his thoughts straight. He couldn’t have his coat draped over his groin the entire night. Then he saw Cordelia move again. He wished she would stop doing that.
Cordelia clutched at the shawl Dennis gently draped over her bare shoulders. “Thanks, Dennis.” She brightly smiled to Angel. “Ready?” Reaching to crook her arm with his, completely oblivious to Angel’s awkward step in her direction.***
Cordelia pulled Angel away from the direction of his car. “There.” She pointed to a black limousine.
“My car is over there.”
“Yes and it will be fine there. The radio station called- ticket winners get a limo to take them to the theater and VIP entertainment. I answered that call.” Cordelia smiled and laughed. “Come on, Angel. No driving. Just sitting back and relaxing. It will be fun. It has a sunroof and a bar. I asked for details.” Cordelia pulled the vampire to the stretched out car.
Angel looked back at his convertible. He hated just leaving it. But nothing had ever happened to it yet when left outside Cordelia’s apartment. He glanced at his seer. Angel thought or rather hoped it had been just the dress, but it wasn’t. And he knew that- in sweats, dirty covered with slime, laughing, crying, mainly just by being, Cordelia was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen in his 250 years. It was her, her spirit. It pushed her beyond the label of just being beautiful; it made it almost painful to look at her. Lorne had been right. Cordelia had become the most extraordinary woman. Champion, she may be, but she was also so damn human, so full of life.
Angel sighed and nodded, leading her to the long black car that she had pointed too. He had already given in. Hell. Angel had given in as he yelled for her and left those messages. Angel had called and told her that he wasn’t coming, but that first call had been made from the dry cleaners where he picked up his tuxedo. Angel had called from Caritas as he begged Lorne to watch Connor for the night. He had called again, while Fred and Gunn waited patiently as he finished telling them again when Lorne would be over and Connor’s night schedule. Angel called one more time as he waited outside Cordelia’s apartment until 7:00 pm.
Angel had known that he would go as soon as Cordelia had left the hotel, but he had to keep trying. It was the principle of the thing. Angel wasn’t sure what principle, but it sounded good. All Angel really knew was that he couldn’t let Cordelia go alone or with someone else or have her sit waiting for him. So, when she didn’t answer any of his calls, Angel went- like he knew he would from the beginning, but he had tried, sort of. It could’ve worked.