Title: Angels with Dirty Faces
Author: Daisy
Posted: 09-18-2003
Email: e.large@talk21.com
Rating: NC17
Category: Angst
Content:
Summary: No matter how fast you run, your past will find you.
Spoilers: Post season 4. Possibly spoilers for season 5
Disclaimer: The characters in the Angelverse were created by Joss Whedon & David Greenwalt. No infringement is intended, no profit is made.
Distribution:You want it, you got it. But be a peach and let me know.
Notes: This is quite clearly not chapter nine of His Lady Lazarus. For those who reading HLL, I promise it's being written. It's just taking a while.
Feedback: Is better than a chocolate covered Hugh Jackman with a side serving of Amy Acker.
Thanks/Dedication: Go to Dawn (Pushydame) for telling me that this doesn't suck as much as I fear it does. The lady rockeths muchly. Now, when are we getting more Exiles? *g* Thanks also to the glorious PushyDame for her invaluable help with everything AWDF and for the wonderful artwork that helped put a fire under my muse.
Part 1The air was stale and still, the occasional drift of dust rose up by the side of the road from a breeze that was over with before it even began. A landscape of nothing blinked by unnoticed while the ailing radio crackled out traffic news that was of no use to the three women that occupied the stiflingly hot Desoto, too busy in their own thoughts to take in the wide rolling vistas they sped past.
Arid land, bleak in its beauty, too bright for eyes that had grown accustomed to the night, sunlight bounced mockingly off the road making them squint until the dull thud of a shared headache bled into the edges of their brains. Surely it shouldn't be so bright, surely the sun should be mourning the loss of what little innocence they'd had left? Surely there should be a storm, a tornado of pain and loss ravaging the land, not this quiet peaceful nothing.
The sun shined and the car sped on, bumping over potholes that made the suspension grunt with irritation. The traffic update ended to be replaced with an over enthusiastic DJ declaring the reward for being the tenth caller.
Money in the bank, car of your dreams, fantasy vacation a million miles away.
Forget all your troubles with a fruity drink.
"I wish you wouldn't smoke in the car," Fred muttered under her breath, her eyes fixed to the road ahead, knuckles bone white on the steering wheel.
"Yeah well I wish for I lotta things, so far I've got none of them," Faith drawled as she carelessly flicked her ash out of the window.
"Those things are gonna kill you," shaking her head with disapproval Fred fiddled with the air conditioning only to be rewarded with a stream of warm air for her effort. With a defeated sigh she wiped away the sheen of sweat from forehead with the back of her hand.
"Really? There I was thinking they'd help me live a long and happy life," the Slayer rolled her eyes, taking a long satisfying drag of nicotine into her lungs.
"It's disgusting and it's stinking up the car."
"The car already stinks," Faith dismissed the subject with boredom even as she tossed the half smoked cigarette out of the window. Left with nothing to occupy her restless hands Faith took a turn at impotently pressing the buttons on the dashboard in search of the air conditioning. "The a/c doesn't work," she declared after a while without result.
"You don't say."
"How come we got stuck with this pile of junk? With all that money Angel's-"
"Faith!" the Texan hissed to silence her. Fred darted her eyes at the rear view mirror.
"She ain't listenin'," Faith looked over her shoulder, not surprised that the third in their party of brunettes still sat curled up in her seat, staring unseeingly at the blurring landscape.
"Cordelia's fine, she just needs a few days away," Fred said confidently, her fingers flexing on the steering wheel as though it were the only thing keeping her grounded.
"Oh yeah, a few days away should make everything just shiny and new," Faith rolled her eyes.
"She'll be fine," Fred repeated like a mantra as she looked at the once confident and vivacious woman, now barely a shadow of the person she once was.
***
The cold water felt good against her face, that much Cordelia was sure of. It was real on her skin, when she touched it she knew it would be wet, that it would trickle through her fingers, that gravity would draw it south.
It was a certainty, something she could rely on.
The face that stared back at her from the cracked and dirty bathroom mirror no longer was.
Hazel eyes, wide mouth, arched eyebrows and regal nose.
Was this really her?
How could she know anymore, what if the person that stared back wasn't who she thought it was?
Nobody would be able to tell.
She rubbed a damp paper towel over the back of her neck, the coarse material scratched against the sweat and grit borne of too many hours heading god knows where.
Somewhere. Anywhere as long as it was somewhere.
Cordelia absently fingered the ends of her hair, it was longer than she remembered and she wanted it gone, to cut away the thick mane of brown and grow it anew, fresh start, do-over. Maybe she could shed her skin too, leave behind a trail of paper thin deceits on the dirty floor and walk out of the graffiti covered rest room the woman she once was. Or was she? Had she ever been that woman, was that a lie too, were these her own thoughts and actions, when she traced her finger over the spider web crack in the mirror was it her, Cordelia, Cordy, that didn't grimace as it sliced cleanly into her finger? Was it her blood that dripped like slow running honey onto the yellowing basin? Drip, drip, it was a hypnotic sight but why couldn't she feel it? Why couldn't she feel the sharp stinging pain that told her she was still alive, still breathing, away from the nothing and back where she belonged?
Death would be easy. Cut her wrists or swallow too many pills, at least then she'd be free of the nothing, make it slide down the drain in a stream of red, watch as it left its stain on the porcelain as it had on everything else.
So tempting to end it now in the small bathroom, under a bare light bulb, between the towel dispenser and the leaking pipes-
"Cordy, you all right in there?" Faith's voice called through the door as if the other woman knew exactly what was going through her mind.
"I'll be out in a minute," Cordelia answered back evenly, "I just need a minute," she told her reflection quietly as though she were asking herself for space to be alone. Her voice felt scratchy and raw from too many months without use, it still sounded the same though, just as her face was the same, her hands, her breasts, her legs. Everything familiar yet so very wrong, left with used skin and borrowed bones, weak muscles and tainted flesh.
Could a stranger tell just by looking what her hands had done? Might they realize the pain her fingers had danced through? Would they understand how she still felt the power crackling seductively beneath her skin, how at night dreams full of dark whispered promises made her ache with atrocities that another committed.
Would they see the tainted memories of a sweet baby boy she'd sung to sleep behind her guilty eyes?
"C'mon C, we're burning daylight!" Faith pounded on the door.
***
"I bought you these," Fred handed Cordelia a pair of dark sunglasses as she settled once again into the back seat.
"Thanks," she forced the corners of her mouth to tug up into what she hoped was something that resembled a smile.
Cordelia felt the skin around her eyes crack from disuse.
"How are you feeling?"
"Good," she lied because it was easier than the truth.
A spark of anger flared inside her momentarily at the hopeful smile Fred was giving her. It passed as soon as it had been ignited though, leaving nothing but the hollow space twisting in her gut. Cordelia wrapped her arms around her legs and rested her chin on her knees, eyes fixed to the few scattered specks of black paint that had apparently refused to be parted from the window glass.
"Let's get this oh so merry show on the road," Faith announced as she slid into the drivers seat, throwing the sodas she'd bought next to Cordelia. The dark haired Slayer gunned the ignition and pulled away from the gas station, a trail of dust spraying behind them in their wake.
***
Angel read the note in the dappled sunlight that blanketed his office, the urge to shuffle into the shadows itched at his skin as he memorized Fred's scribbled words.
"Does it say where they've gone, if they'll be returning?" Wesley asked from the opposite side of the room, no longer shoulder to shoulder as they once had been
Angel shook his head.
"Can hardly blame her-"
"Spike." There was enough Angelus in that one word warning to make the usually verbose blonde vampire swallow his contribution to the conversation. Patting his pockets until he'd found the crumpled pack, Spike stretched out lazily on the black leather sofa and lit a cigarette, cocking an eyebrow at the annoyed look Gunn sent his way.
"We going after them?" asked Gunn when the thick silence began to scratch at his nerves.
Angel felt three pairs of eyes staring expectantly at him, waiting for instruction, as if he knew what the hell it was he was doing.
"I have a meeting," Angel grunted and stalked out of the office.
Part 2
Angel traced his fingers over the words he'd memorized the moment he'd read Fred's note, silently repeating them until they were nothing but a group of sounds that ceased to make sense.
She's dying here....
It was the truth, even if Angel refused to speak it aloud, he didn't need Fred's hurried note to tell him. He'd known it since the moment Cordelia had woken and turned her eyes away from her friends, no anger, no resentment, just silence.
She's dying here....
Anger would have been easier, if she'd raged and screamed, he could have handled that, understood it, but not the silence. It had imbedded itself into the soul he'd sold to the devil for thirty pieces of silver.
She's dying here....
He squeezed his eyes shut as though that would be enough to erase those three words from his memory, wipe it clean like the deal he'd done with Lilah, forget the pain in her eyes, the silence that had been more painful than a thousand splinters penetrating his dead heart.
When he opened his eyes the words still remained.
"Mr Angel?" a nervous red head who reminded him of Willow in that first year in Sunnydale tried to garner his attention.
His jaw twitched with tension.
"Angel, it's just Angel," he repeated for what felt the millionth time.
"Oh, yes, sorry," she flushed, anxiously fussing with the legal pad in front of her.
"Was there anything else?" Angel didn't try disguise the boredom in his voice as he glanced at his watch.
Two hours spent sitting at the head of a too big table, in a too bright board room, with ten humans even Angelus wouldn't have even bothered to bite.
"Well," the red started timidly because the vampire made her nervous, "there is the small matter of Miss Chase-"
"They've nicked the bloody DeSoto!!" Spike yelled indignantly as he stormed into the boardroom, glass doors rattling dangerously with his entry.
Angel put his head in his hands and closed his eyes.
This was worse than hell.
***
The food was far too greasy but it was served in more than generous portions, and for that Faith was grateful. The last few days had bled together into one long uncomfortable pain in her lower back and all she wanted to do was eat until she couldn't stand the sight of anymore food, enjoy a couple beers, pass out on an actual bed and not think about the mess she'd quite willingly left behind her.
Or, more precisely, the man she'd quite willingly left behind her.
"I think I saw a motel a little ways back," Faith said between healthy bites of her burger.
Fred nodded, idly stirring a figure eight into her coffee while her own meal went uncharacteristically untouched.
"Looked clean enough," the Slayer continued, "cheap but clean, possibly one of those fabled motels where the water doesn't run brown and the cockroaches pick up after themselves."
Fred nodded again.
Cordelia pushed her fries around the plate while she stared out at the setting sun.
"You could grunt or something, let a girl know she's not completely talking to herself."
Nod.
Stare.
"Oh for crapsake," Faith sighed with irritation. The loud crack of her hands clapping together made the two silent women startle in their seats.
"What?" Fred snapped waspishly, embarrassed at the curious looks the other diners where sending their way.
"If I knew you two were gonna be this much fun I would've stayed in Cleveland," the Slayer wiped her greasy fingers on a paper napkin and threw it on her plate, deftly ignoring the ache that throbbed in her chest, "at some point one of you are gonna have to tell me what the hell is going on here."
"I told you, we're just taking a break from LA," the Texan pushed her untouched coffee away, darting a glance at the silent woman beside her.
"Uh huh, but for some reason you calling me up in the middle of the night telling me to get my butt to LA as soon as possible, borrowing, and when I say borrowing I mean stealing, the bleached Wonders wheels, without so much as a see ya later to Angel and the boys doesn't exactly add up to fun vacation time to me. But then again this might just me being overly suspsicous, prison can do that to a girl, but I'm thinking I'm being left out of the loop big time here." Faith crossed her arms over her chest and waited for the answers she damn well deserved.
"I need to use the rest room," Cordelia said as she rose from her seat and walked to the back of the busy restaurant.
"Well?" the slayer cocked an eyebrow at Fred whose gaze was fixed in the direction that the third of their party had just disappeared to.
"I didn't steal the car, I left Spike a note," Fred muttered distractedly.
"Whatever," Faith rolled her eyes, this girl pissed her off worse than Willow did, "I want some answers Fred, and I want them now. I wanna know why Cordelia looks like the walking dead, why she's barely said two words since we hightailed it outta dodge, why you flinch every time I mention Angel, and pretty much why the hell I'm needed here on this little Thelma and Louise jaunt across our great nation!" Faith's voice rose to a threatening level, causing a few nervous glances to be sent her way.
Fred continued to stare at the direction Cordelia had disappeared to.
"Hey," Faith snapped her fingers in front of the Texan's face.
"What?" Fred blinked, annoyed.
"Look, if there's something going on here I need to know-"
"Then you'll be told," was Fred's terse reply as she stood up, "I'm just gonna-" she jerked her head towards the restroom then left Faith alone at the table.
"Oh sure, don't worry about me," she called after the Texans retreating back, "it's not like I have anywhere better to be."
The Slayer eyed the pile of fries that sat ignored on Fred plate and grabbed a handful.
"Just don't be expecting me to drive off some cliff without knowing why," Faith muttered and attempted to fill the void inside her with food.
***
Fred pressed the palm of her hand against the stall door, the glossy off-white paint shined obscenely under the harsh glare of the overhead light and made the young Physicist want to smash the bulb beneath her boot.
It was too bright, too raw, nothing could hide under it's florescent glow, not the lies that had crept beneath her skin, not the betrayal that painted every cell of her body.
Not the sound of vomit hitting the toilet bowl.
Fred's heart hurt for Cordelia, a sharp slice of pain that ached inside her chest, wrapped in guilt and culpability because the Texan knew she'd played her part in creating the ghost of the woman they'd once known.
Leaning her forehead against the door she wanted to claw apart with her hands until her skin was torn and bleeding, Fred closed her eyes and let the last seven days wash over her for a few debilitating seconds until the flush of the toilet signalled Cordelia had finished throwing up the small amount of food she'd eaten that day.
Fred stepped back from the door, straightened her shoulders and plastered on a smile that was beginning to hurt her face.
If she pretended everything was fine, then maybe it would be.
The door opened and the ache twisted and splintered.
"Hey," Cordelia croaked and wiped the back of her trembling hand across her mouth.
"You OK?" Fred asked impotently.
Cordelia nodded and moved over to the small row of basins, gripping the white porcelain until her hands cramped because at least then she was feeling something.
"You'll feel better after a good night sleep," the Physicist said with such determination that it made Cordelia want to laugh.
"Yeah, sleep," she muttered before rinsing the taste of bile out of her mouth.
The florescent light flickered and hummed above them.
***
"Spike-"
"I can't believe she took the DeSoto! All those bleeding Mercs and Jags you've got and she steals my baby?!"
"Listen-"
"You ever been in a car when Fred's driving?" The blonde vampire didn't wait for Angel's answer, "The girl isn't even familiar with the term clutch control!"
"Spike-"
"I swear, if there's even one scratch on the paint I will tie the skinny little bint down and-"
"SPIKE!"
Spike stopped his furious pacing and turned to face Angel, "What?"
"Shut. Up." The older vampire bit out through clenched teeth.
"What's crawled up your arse today?" Spike jerked his chin and cocked an eyebrow as he dropped down in a now vacant chair on the opposite end of the boardroom, legs crossed and casually propped up on the oak table.
"Feet," Angel grunted.
Spike happily ignored his order.
Angel sighed wearily and let his head fall to the back of his chair.
"Why are you still here?" he asked the ceiling as though he were looking to the heavens for answers. Angel felt too old and too broken to be dealing with Spike right now.
"I figured we'd rally the troops-"
"No, why are you still here? In my city, my life? Why?" Angel fixed Spike with a glare as he asked the same question he'd asked every day since they'd tackled the blonde's corporeal problem.
"What? Can't a fella just want to hang out with an old mate?"
"We're not friends, Spike."
"No, really?" Spike snorted and rolled his eyes then stood and began to prowl around the boardroom once again, habit keeping him away from the early evening rays of light that bled through the windows.
Angel watched silently as the other vampire moved restlessly around the room, his nerves dancing on a razors edge with every step the blonde took. Angel wanted him gone, out of his city, out of his life, he didn't care where he went, he just wanted Spike away from him.
Spike's presence brought with it too many regrets and too much guilt, and he had enough to deal with already.
"So?" Spike turned to face him, "we gonna be all white knightly and go after the damsels in distress?"
She's dying here....
Angel fingered the scribbled note in his pocket.
She's dying here...and now I know the truth.
"No," the brunette declared even as his heart broke a little bit more, "no, we're not."
Part 3
Faith had stayed in too many motel rooms during her short life, each one as faceless and uninviting as the next, filled with the ghosts of a thousand other lost souls looking for somewhere to hide.
A part of her liked them. Liked the faceless ghosts, ratty bed sheets and the low hum of the vacancy sign. There were no expectations to live up to, no eyes demanding more than she could give, just a well worn carpet and checkout at eight.
Simple.
And the perfect place for three brunettes running from the past.
"We're a cliché, you know that, right?" Faith broke the ever present silence that blanketed them.
Fred nodded, picking idly at the label of her half finished beer as she leant her hip against the open door way.
Faith had given up asking questions about what was going on when Fred and Cordelia had returned from the rest room, neither looked like they were interested in playing twenty questions and contrary to popular belief, Faith knew when to keep her mouth shut.
For a while at least.
"So, Wini, what's your story?" Faith asked as though she didn't really care if she was given an answer or not.
"I don't have a story," the Physicist replied, her gaze fixed resolutely to the dusty DeSoto in the mostly empty parking lot, "and my name's Fred."
"Whatever, Fred," Faith rolled her eyes, "I just want a few answers. Like why the cheerleader's not her usual high bitch queen self-"
"You know nothing about Cordelia," Fred silenced the Slayer with an angry hiss.
"Jeeze, sorry," Faith raised her hands in supplication.
"Don't talk about her like that, she isn't...just...just don't," the Texan ran out of steam in the argument.
Silence crept back in like a thief and settled uncomfortably between the Physicist and the Slayer.
Nightfall had done little to cool the stifling Arizona heat, Fred could feel long trickles of sweat running down her spine, her thin shirt stuck uncomfortably to her back and her skin felt suffocated with dust and secrets.
The plan had been Texas.
A familiar place to dissect the truth from the lies, home cooked food, the warm comfort of her parent's affection. But as they'd fled LA in a car that had seen better days, the thought of returning to the home she hadn't seen in years, to the people that knew her better than she knew herself, terrified Fred.
So the plan had changed to anywhere but LA or Texas.
Anywhere that didn't know of the falsities they'd been fed, lives that had been shattered, decisions made without consent.
Fred didn't know what she was doing, if she'd made the correct decision to spirit Cordelia away from LA. She was beginning to have serious misgivings about inviting Faith along for the ride too.
The Slayer was beginning to ask too many questions that Fred didn't want or know how to answer. Fred knew she should tell Faith what was going on but how could she when she wasn't even sure herself?
She and Faith weren't friends, probably never would be, but the Physicist hadn't known who else to turn to. Not Wes or Gunn because they didn't know the truth.
And certainly not Angel.
Glancing over her shoulder, Fred checked on the still form curled up on the single bed in their shared room.
"She's been sleeping a lot," Faith carefully stated.
"She's been through a lot," Fred returned her gaze to the weathered DeSoto.
***
"I don't get it," Gunn frowned, ignoring Spike's snort of derision, "Fred and Cordy hightailing it outta dodge just doesn't make sense."
"I'm sure there was a valid reason," Wesley swirled the amber liquid around in his glass.
"Better bloody be a good one," the blonde vampire muttered as he lit the cigarette that dangled haphazardly from his mouth, casually ignoring the no smoking signs were littered around them, "that car's a classic-"
"But I must admit it's not like Fred to do something so rash without letting one of us know," the Englishman wondered out loud effectively cutting off yet another of Spike's rants about his beloved Desoto.
Gunn nodded in agreement, loosening his tie and unbuttoning the collar of his shirt as he did so.
He was finding it difficult to wind down after another day in court and by the amount of whiskey Wesley was consuming, Gunn realized he wasn't the only one.
The bar was shiny and clean, very different from the atmospheric Irish pubs that they'd frequented in the past. Table after table was filled with weary looking executives, each of them passing the time until they had no other choice but return to their shiny wives and clean houses. The sounds of corporate life buzzed around the three that sat in a not particularly companionable silence. Meetings with accountants were discussed half heartedly, last nights game was intricately dissected, Moby lamented his troubles with God and cell phones beeped for attention.
"And Angel doesn't think we should go after them?" Gunn turned his attention to the blonde vampire that was fidgeting like a rittalin child.
Spike shrugged with disinterest and wondered why he was wasting his evening with these two idiots for the eighteenth time since he'd crashed their little mope fest.
It was typical of Spike's luck that the one person he found vaguely interesting in the entire town would end up stealing his car and leaving for destinations unknown without so much of a see ya, wouldn't wanna be ya.
Not that he was worried about Fred, because he wasn't.
Barely knew the girl.
Couldn't care less.
Just because he had a soul now didn't mean he gave a crap about Angel and his band of merry men.
Spike told his soul to shut the hell up.
"I'm telling ya, it doesn't make sense," Gunn repeated his earlier declaration, shooting Spike a sharp glare before the bleach blonde could question his intelligence again.
"I was speaking with Knox earlier, apparently Fred had been acting odd for most of the week," Wesley shared the morsel of information he'd been able to garner, "well, odder than usual anyway," he amended.
"Odd how?" Gunn frowned.
"He didn't say," the ex watcher shrugged.
Spike flicked his gaze between the two friends while they sat in a moment of quiet contemplation, each undoubtedly thinking about what would cause Fred's strange behaviour.
The vampire felt the urge to knock their heads together. He'd had more interesting conversations with Andrew.
Gunn leant forward in his chair, an unasked question written clearly across his face.
"What?" Wesley asked.
"How much time have you spent with Cordy since she woke up?"
"Well...." he paused, thinking, "we've been rather busy...."
"Yeah, same here," Gunn nodded guiltily.
Wesley frowned and studied his drink as though it were the answer to all their problems.
"Jesus, you two are worse than the poof," Spike rolled his eyes.
"Are you gonna answer that?" Gunn snapped at him roughly.
"Answer what?" Spike narrowed his eyes suspiciously, quickly replaying the conversation in his mind to see if he'd missed a random accusation that may have been thrown his way.
"Your pocket's ringing," Wesley gestured vaguely with his drink before swallowing the content in one impressive gulp.
Spike frowned and reached into the deep pocket of his leather duster. He sifted through the contents, grimacing when he came into contact with a sticky piece of candy that may very well have been in there for decades, only understanding where the annoying beeping he'd been hearing for the last ten minutes had been coming from when his fingers wrapped around a cell phone.
He'd forgotten he even owned one.
With a parting glare at the two men, who each looked as amused as the other, Spike stood and stalked towards the entrance of the bar before they could mock him about enhanced vampire hearing.
Once outside, the blonde punched the call button.
"What?" Spike barked roughly, fully expecting to hear the not so dulcet tones of his grandsire checking that he wasn't causing mayhem.
"Nice phone manner you've got there," an achingly sweet and familiar voice replied, clearly amused.
A smile that few rarely saw lit up the vampire's face.
"Buffy," as he said her name the vampire felt the tension drain from his shoulders.
"Hey."
"You OK?"
"Yeah, you?"
"Still enjoyin' the corporeal unlife," Spike scratched his thumb over the scar that ran through his eyebrow, wondering if this was a social or business call, desperately hoping it was social even though those calls were few and far between, "how's Dawn?"
"Being a pain in my ass, as usual."
Spike heard a distant yelp of indignation that could only ever come from the youngest Summers and his heart twisted fondly.
"Sounds like niblet," he said softly.
"Yeah."
An awkward pause filled the conversation, both blondes still unsure how to talk to the other.
"There was a reason I called," Buffy said quickly before the conversation died completely.
"Right," Spike tried to hide the disappointment in his voice.
"The police have been sniffing around looking for Faith again, could you let her know she should be on her guard and not do anything, you know, Faithish?"
"'Course," he nodded then realized there was a flaw in that plan, "one problem though, pet."
"What's that?"
"Faith ain't here."
"Er, yeah she is, she left a few days ago, said something about a friend needing a favour? Did she not turn up?"
Something clicked in the vampire's brain.
"No, but I have a feeling I know where she is," Spike sighed.
"Trouble?"
"I expect so."
"Should I be on my way to LA?"
Spike's heart screamed yes.
"Naw, we can handle it," he forced himself to say.
"OK," Buffy said, sounding unconvinced.
Another pause, a heartbeat of silence.
"Buffy?"
"Yeah?"
"Why are you telling me this and not Angel?" Spike asked before he could stop himself.
The blonde slayer's silence was worse than her venom.
"Listen, forget I-"
"Because I wanted to talk to you," her quiet admission broke off his hasty back tracking.
Hope bloomed in his chest and an unguarded smile spread across his lips.
"So, has Angel given you an office yet?" Buffy quickly changed the subject, just as Spike knew she would.
Baby steps, he reminded himself.
"He barely tolerates me in the building, luv, doubt I'll be getting my own view any time ever," Spike muttered and sat down on the curb.
"Want me to tell him to play nice?"
"Don't you soddin' dare!"
Buffy snorted with laughter and Spike wished he could her right now, curled up in her sweats on the sofa, finally having the half normal life she'd always yearned for.
"S'good to hear you laugh," the words were out of his mouth again before he could stop them.
Spike glared at the stars as though it were their fault.
"S'good to be laughing again," Buffy agreed.
Change of topic.
Just to be safe.
"So, how's ole' one eye doin'? Bet he's missin' me somethin' desperate."
"Uh huh, about as much as he misses syphilis."
"Oi now missy, I'll have you know me and Harris've got a bond."
"Sure you do Spike, sure you do...."
***
When the bathroom door clicked shut, Cordelia stopped pretending to be asleep.
Opening her eyes and rolling on her back, the once Seer for the PTB stared blankly at the water stains that covered the ceiling like a mildew Sistine Chapel.
When she heard the shower begin, indicating that Fred would be occupied for a while, thus unable to watch her with the mix of pity and suspicion that now shadowed the Texan's gaze, Cordelia swung her legs over the edge of the bed and sat up, wincing at the dull ache of muscles that had gone unused for too many months.
Her stomach clenched angrily at the movement.
Swallowing down the bile that rose in her throat, the brunette stood and made her way across the room, grasping the door frame for a moment when the floor threatened to slip out from under her feet.
Faith tried not to show her surprise when Cordelia sat down in the plastic lawn chair next to hers.
"Feel better?" the Slayer asked casually.
"Do I look better?" Cordelia raised an eyebrow at her.
"You look like shit," Faith said honestly.
"Coma," the ex cheerleader shrugged.
"Been there, done that," Faith sighed and swallowed the last few dregs of her beer.
"Got the frikken T-shirt," Cordelia muttered and tilted her head to look at the stars.
For all the hours they spent in the night, they'd rarely seen the stars through the smog and lights of Los Angeles.
Tonight they glittered like a thousand pairs of eyes watching over her.
It should have felt comforting.
It didn't.
"Why are you here?" Cordelia asked Faith bluntly.
"Been wondering that myself," the Slayer plucked a beer from her dwindling supply and offered it to the woman beside her, surprised when Cordelia accepted it.
They drank in silence beneath a sky that had witnessed their crimes.
***
Angel tried to ignore the petulant ring of his cell phone as it echoed through his apartment.
He closed his eyes and tightened his grip on the bottle of Scotch that sat comfortingly in his left hand.
It rang and rang, a shrill demand that threatened to irritate the vampire enough to pull him out of his misery just to shut it up.
Silence.
Angel sighed with relief as the quiet returned to his gloomy, lifeless apartment.
There was no warmth in this place, no memories of soft laughter, of happy bickering, the soundtrack of a family he'd let slip through his dirty hands.
He'd left the warmth behind him when he'd made a pact with the devil.
Not even the ghosts of the living comforted him here.
He'd thought that this is what he'd wanted, what they'd all needed. A fresh start, a future for Connor, some measure of peace for Cordelia.
He'd been a fool.
"A fucking fool," Angel muttered and attempted to drink some warmth into this dead body.
Everything was gone, the son he would have died for, the woman he'd never had the chance to love.
Gone, and he'd let them walk away.
Angel dropped the now empty Scotch bottle to the floor beside his bed and rubbed his hand roughly over his face. He felt old, too fucking old for this, more than a century of misery aching in his bones, one after another they left him, left trapped in the shadows while the world felt the real sun on it's face.
His sun was artificial and hollow, it bled into his tower of metal and lies, lit up the shadows that shouldn't be seen and he hated it.
Hated it so much that he could taste the bitterness in his mouth, or maybe that was just the alcohol.
Angel didn't know anymore.
Didn't care either.
His right hand bunched into a fist, the crunch of paper reminded him of what he was holding. Moving faster than his alcohol addled brain should have allowed him, Angel frantically sat up and switched on his bedside lamp. His big hands fumbled to flatten the creases he'd inflicted on the sole reminder of a life only he remembered.
No, he corrected himself, not the only one that knows anymore.
That thought brought him no solace.
The happy faces that stared back at him from the photograph brought him even less.
His sleeping child in the arms of the woman he loved.
"S'beautiful," Angel murmured as he traced Cordelia's smile.
A familiar voice broke through the silence of his self imposed prison, pulling the vampire from his memories. It took him a moment to realize it was his answer phone and Wesley wasn't actually in his apartment, which meant he missed the beginning of the message.
"think Faith is with them, I had Knox run a trace on all of Fred's calls over the last few of weeks and there was one to Cleveland a few days before they left town."
The Englishman paused and Angel knew what he was going to say next before he said it.
"Angel, we think they may be in some kind of trouble. And if they're not, they probably will be soon. Gunn's getting in touch with his contacts, it should be easy enough to discover where they are, the DeSoto's hardly- ('s a classic!)-Spike, will you shut up!"
"Just get on with it already, Wes," Angel muttered even though the ex watcher couldn't hear him.
"We're going after them, just as soon as we have a location. There's something going on here Angel, Fred wouldn't just up and leave with Cordelia for no reason, especially not with Faith."
Another pause.
"I think you should come too. Call me when you get this message. Oh, it's Wesley by the way."
A click and silence reigned once again.
With hands that had lost more than he could hold onto, Angel slipped the wrinkled photograph back into its home inside the bedside table, beneath the books he no longer had the time to read.
Shoulders hunched, the vampire stumbled over to his drinks cabinet and pulled out a full bottle of vodka, determined to drink himself unconscious while his house of card begain to crumble.
Continue on...
