Title: Rooks and Pawns
Author: DamnSkippy
Posted: 07-02-2003
Email: damnskippytoo@gmail.com
Rating: PG-13
Category: Post Season 4 – Angst, Humor
Content: C/A
Summary:
Spoilers: Just everything so far!
Disclaimer: The characters in the Angelverse were created by Joss Whedon & David Greenwalt. No infringement is intended, no profit is made.
Distribution: Anywhere, but please let me know, k?
Notes: This is my version of Loveangel’s Challenge. For those who want to read the fic without preconceptions, I’ll put challenge as a spoiler. Cordy is still in a coma but the PTBs send her a vision. She must communicate the vision to the FG somehow to save the victim who is somehow connected to how she can be brought back. No Spike!
Feedback: Duh.
Thanks/Dedication:Act V
Scene 1
The moth was taunting him. It buzzed and dove around his head, grazing cold skin covered in shadows but never lingering long. The need for the life-giving light and heat of the lamp was too strong. Scraping its hungry wings against it, the creature was repelled by the scorching warmth it yearned for and flung back into the icy depths of darkness where he stood. Over and over again, the sad dance of the moth to the flame was playing out in the corridor outside the apartment.
And here he was, the virtual human embodiment of that tragic tango. Mothman desperately winging his way to the light and heat of his flame praying he wouldn't be burned this time. Trusting that this time the sun he flittered toward would welcome and consume him instead of thrusting him back into the black gloom.
He was prepared. Angel had asked the others if he could have some time alone with Cordy tonight. They had understood and perhaps were a little relieved, appearing worn to the bone after all the stress and carnage of the day. So he had taken Wesley back to the office for his car, picked up what he needed from his wall safe, and had just said goodnight to Lorne and Fred at her car. Now all he needed was to somehow get into this stranger's apartment, and he hoped he had the answer in his hand.
He knocked. Nervously tapping his leg with his twitching hand, he waited but got no response. He knocked again, longer and louder. The eerie silence was broken by what sounded like glass shattering, a muffled scream and then someone stumbling toward him. The door flung inward and Angel was transfixed by the sight.
Before him stood, he assumed, the current tenant. To say the man was disheveled was too kind. He was a mess physically and by the wild, tormented look in his eyes, mentally as well. Angel had seen those eyes many times as the Scourge of Europe, so he recognized the fear in them as well as the smell of it oozing from his pores. If the rest of the image hadn't been so comical he might have been growling and vamping out to enjoy the sensation fully. But he could only smile knowing what was obviously happening here.
The man's arm had pierced a lampshade that was still attached to his bruised limb just above the elbow. There was a page of the LA Times stuck to the sweat of his neck. Covering his head and dripping down over his eyes was the entire contents of a very large mayonnaise jar. If the smell hadn't confirmed it, the part of the jar with the Kraft label was perched on top of his head for easy identification. And what good is a condiment without the meaty goodness of bologna, chunks of which were sticking out of his ears and, oh god, his navel.
The rest of his body appeared to have been processed on the frappe setting. His pants and shirt were basically just shreds and his feet were tangled in several…well many…electrical cords, which explained the stumbling earlier. And Angel could pretty much guarantee part of that was also caused by the rest of that lamp that was attached to one of the cords he was currently dragging behind him.
And yet he somehow managed to be oblivious to his appearance. He held his head high and asked Angel in a civil tone, "Can I help you?"
Angel watched the coup de grâce when one of the moths from the hall landed in the mayonnaise and got stuck. He couldn't help it, he giggled. When the man cleared his throat in impatience and displeasure at the laughter, Angel tried to regain his composure.
"Uh, yes, you can help me. I need to borrow your apartment for, oh say, forever."
"And why on earth would I do that?" The man looked at him like he was crazy, and Angel thought it hilarious considering it was coming from the-crazy-on-the-other-foot man wanting to stay in this haunted torture chamber.
"Well, in addition to not dying, you might find $20,000 a good enough reason." Angel opened the briefcase he was carrying to flash him the crisp packets. Angel saw 'condo down payment' flash behind the mayo drenched eyes.
The beleaguered former renter didn't hesitate. He grabbed the case from Angel, said, "Welcome to your new home," and exited running.
Angel cautiously crossed the threshold hoping Dennis would be kind to the new boarder and interloper in his dead life.
Scene 2
“See I told you he’d get rid of that idiot.”
Dennis pffted. “I was doing just fine. I had him on the ropes. He was just about to scream for his mommy.”
“Yeah, you’re the man, Dennis,” Cordy appeased.
“What man? Your man?” Dennis swirled around the room causing a slight tornado of debris in hopeful excitement.
The sudden whirl of papers, shards and sharp objects around Angel halted his advance into the living room. “Hi, Dennis. Nice work with the haunting. I’m betting a certain former cheerleader may have helped a little, huh?” Considering the state of the room before him, Angel thought it wise to sooth the pissed off spirit.
“Dennis, stop it. You’re scaring the vampire. And, no not my man. The man. Ya know. The big Kahuna. The real cool cat. The cat’s meow. Any of this workin’ for ya?”
“I suppose he’s your man. I still don’t think he’s good enough for you.” With that he launched a thankfully abridged Webster’s Dictionary at Angel’s head.
Angel put his arm up to deflect it. “Okay, Dennis. I get that you don’t like me very much. But I did help you with your tenant problem, so maybe you could help me a little? May I please talk to Cordelia?”
“Dennis. Stop showing off. I know you could dust him with one flick of a wooden spoon. But he’s really trying to be nice, and I need to talk to him.” Cordy imagined her head tilted forward, her eyes peaking out and her lower lip pushed out in her favorite pouting pose.
When there was no movement of any kind to his request, Angel upped the ante. “Dennis, if you help me talk to Cordy, I’ll make sure that no matter where Cordy wants to live we’ll find a way for you to be with her. In fact, if she wants to live at the hotel, you’ll even have friends. I know quite a few people had untimely deaths there.”
“See? I told you I wouldn’t leave you, and Angel’s got some pretty powerful people working for him now. He can do it. C’mon Dennis. Do it for me.” She consciously fluttered her eye lashes and flashed him the big smile.
Dennis humphed but relented. “Okay, I’ll do it for you. But I don’t trust him and if he tries anything funny, I’ll pull out the Ticonderogas and write his future in his dust.”
Angel felt something nudging his legs and turned to see one of the armchairs had been positioned behind him. He sat and the coffee table moved in front of him. A pad of paper and pen moved from the floor and landed on the table. Dennis began to write.
“Hi, Angel. It’s me. Birkenstocks? Who knew the key to bringing someone out of a coma was really ugly earth shoes?”
Angel laughed. She was really here. He felt a phantom pounding in his chest and his palms felt clammy. “Hi, Cordy. I can’t believe you’re here. I’ve missed you so much. How are you?” He suddenly felt pretty stupid talking to a pad of paper.
“I’m feeling pretty non-solid right now. Did you save the little girl? Are you hurt? Is everyone okay?”
“Whoa, slow down. We’ve got all night. The girl’s fine. Fred got a little slashed up, but she’ll be fine. I’m...well...I’ve had worse impalings. That time with Spike and the torture vamp springs to mind.”
“I miss bandaging you. Pretty silly, huh?”
Angel smiled and relaxed into the chair. The memories of her warm hands on his skin after a battle filled him with contentment. “Mmmm. I miss that, too. The Wolfram & Hart medics don’t have your soft touch.”
“Since you brought it up, how’s working for the enemy panning out? Is it everything you dreamed an evil law firm would be?”
He flinched and sighed. “Cordy, that’s a long conversation which I’d rather have with you face to face. Can we not do it now?”
“If you’d rather see my face and hear the tone of my voice when you try rationalizing this mess to me, then we can wait.”
“I get how this might be easier on me if we do it now, but I don’t want to fight with you. Please. I just want to be with you and talk about getting you back.”
“Fine. We’ll wait. But trust me it won’t be long mister. So how are we getting me back? Is a Ouija board involved because those things creep me out?”
The irony that a disembodied soul speaking through a ghost found Ouija boards creepy made Angel grin. He decided to ignore it and began filling her in on Fala and Wesley’s soul healing theory. The explanation didn’t sound as off-the-wall as he thought it might coming from his mouth, but he wasn’t sure she would buy it.
“My soul is cracked? I don’t feel broken. Is Wesley sure about this? Maybe Wesley’s cracked. What if it doesn’t work? Is there a plan B?”
Angel hadn’t even considered it wouldn’t work. Fala was obviously a powerful being of some sort and Wesley’s idea seemed logical considering all the crap that had happened to Cordelia in the past year. What if it didn’t work? Could any of them handle the aftermath if it didn’t? Imagining the disappointment and pain in all their faces and thinking of Cordy just nowhere forever made him just plain furious. “No! It will work. Failing is not an option, Cordelia, so just don’t even go there.”
“Fine, calm down, oh great and noble leader. I trust you. So...um...who’s the lucky Dr. of Soul? The plasterer of my cracked-up walls? The tab A to my slot C? The Abbott to....”
“Me. I would be Tab A.”
Angel waited. And waited. The pen didn’t budge.
“Cordy? You still there? Hellooooo. Dennis, where is she?”
The table vibrated and then his chair beneath him. More papers and knick knacks flew across the room. The wind picked up and garbage came at him from everywhere.
The pen skirted across the page and Angel bent down to read it. “Knife rack! What the...” He looked up just in time to duck and deflect the incoming paring and cleaving weapons. A nice serrated bread slicer lodged in the cushion between his thighs.
Suddenly it got deathly quiet.
“An oldie but a goody, Dennis. Thanks for the warning. Okay, Cordy, I’m sensing a little discomfort with this idea. Can we discuss it calmly?”
The pen became the storm as it attacked the paper.
“Sensing discomfort? Are you channeling Dr. Phil now or are you just insane? Have you all stepped through the looking glass into bizarro land? Did you shanshu or something, because the last I heard you were still a vampire with a pretty thin hold on that soul of yours, and we are not risking the big bad here. Not for me and not for anybody. You are not doing it. I’ll just go away before I let that happen, so just forget about it.”
God she was so infuriating. Even more so when he couldn’t grab onto her shoulders and shake some sense into her. The best he could do was stand and start pacing.
“I am going to do this and you will go along with it because it’s the only way, dammit! I want to do it. I need to do it! Why can’t you just let me be the strong one for once? Why can’t you just put a sock on that big pride parade you’ve got going and admit for once that you need me! Dammit, Cordelia. Why do you have to piss me off so much?
Angel heard the scratching of the pen and went back to the table. He was still fuming and in no way ready to sit.
“Because I can? And ‘put a sock on the big pride parade’? Can you say hanging around Lorne too much?”
“Funny, Cordy. But that’s not getting us anywhere.” He wasn’t about to let her joke her way out of this. “The healing can only take place between two souls that are emotionally bonded ... intimately connected. You’re my seer. I’m your champion. It has to be me.” He wanted to say so much more. He wanted to say it had to be him because he loved her and she loved him, but saying that through Dennis was not going to happen. He’d waited this long he could wait a little while longer.
“Angel, I do need you. I’m sorry if I don’t...didn’t say that enough. And, yes, I am more connected to you than anyone else. But the risk is just too great. You said your soul had to be released to join with mine and we both know Angelus comes with that scenario. Besides I don’t feel that messed up, really. I’m sure joining with Wes or even Gunn...”
“No! Definitely not Gunn. He’s not...something’s not right...not Gunn. And not Wesley. He has to be here if something does go wrong. And don’t even think about Fred. Her wacky soul would probably just send you screaming back to the higher planes. And Lorne’s mystical connections can’t be tampered with. So that leaves me. Me first and me last. Got it?”
“But, what about Angelus?”
“Cordy, you said you trusted me. We’ve thought this through carefully. It’s really not a big deal. I’ll be chained up and drugged. There will be no unleashing of Angelus. And once our souls are separated, the re-ensouling is a snap. I mean how many times have we done this now? Twenty...thirty times?” He was calmer now and allowed himself the small attempt at humor.
“Only twice. Don’t be a smart ass. As Wes would say, twice is only a coincidence not a pattern. I swear if I wake up and have to stake you, I’m going to kill you.”
“I get that.” Ah, there it was. Cordy logic. Nothing sounded sweeter. Angel knew he could relax now so he sat back down to spend a quiet evening alone with a homicidal ghost and the most wonderful disembodied bitch he’d ever known.
Scene 3
It bothered him. She bothered him. He’d lost control for a few minutes and that wasn’t like him. It wasn’t at all the new and improved King Gunn. The weird ass kid had done something to him, and he didn’t like it. If he didn’t have control then what was he? Just Angel’s flunky. Lower than a demon.
But that girl. What did she do to me?
As soon as he’d reached the offices he’d gone straight to the White Room. He needed it. The charge that comes from stroked fur. The stature that comes from the long, lean, outstretched body. The clarity that comes from the cold black and white vision. The cleansing of doubt that comes from the rhythmic laving of the rough tongue.
As Gunn relaxed and recharged the purring, soothing voice filled his mind and reaffirmed his goal.
“Tomorrow. It is time. Tomorrow.”
The thought was thrilling. “Tomorrow. Yes. She’ll be back tomorrow and then I can face her. Then I can see the pain on his face when he knows she’s gone. Just before I kill him.”
“No. During the healing. Kill him while he sleeps. He will be gone and she won’t be able to return without him. Pounce when no one expects it.”
Something was nipping at him. A tickling itch at the base of his spine. “No, I must face them. They have to know it’s coming and that it’s coming from me.” He squirmed to scratch it.
“You are the king. You decide what is right. Is it not wiser to wait in shadows and watch? Does it not show strength to stalk and attack at the weakest link? That is how you survive.”
Damn. There it was again. Just the slightest irritation working it’s way up. “Yes, it is smart. But it’s...it’s....cowardly. They must know who is the master. Who has destroyed them” Now the itch was just below his shoulder blade. He couldn’t reach it.
“It is not important that the dead know anything. The living will know. They will be stunned by your cleverness. They will be afraid to challenge you. Their fear will make them follow.”
“The dead are not important.” Something whispered...prickled at his ear...Alana.
“The dead know nothing. The dead feel nothing. The dead will be nothing. Tomorrow.”
Then there was nothing.
“Tomorrow.”
Scene 4
Wesley had spoken to Angel at 9:20 and was off the phone with Fala’s mother by 9:32. It was arranged that the ritual would begin at 2:00, but that Wesley would meet them at the apartment at 1:00 to be schooled on the ritual. Fala had told him what he needed to gather and the general process, so he had plenty to keep him busy until then.
Cordelia didn’t want the healing to be performed at Wolfram and Hart. And she had insisted her body be moved to the apartment as well. She refused to wake up in evil town, as she’d put it. Or, rather, as Angel had informed him she’d put it. He hadn’t actually spoken to Cordelia yet. And though he was anxious to do so, there was far too much to be done.
So, he was in charge of arranging for medical personnel and the safe transport of Cordy’s corporeal form. Moving her worried him tremendously since she was already very fragile and such a trip could put an end to her barely functioning systems. But what Cordy wants... He smiled warmly at that thought. “It’s good to have you back.”
He was just picking up the phone to order the re-ensouling orbs from office supplies when Fred and Lorne knocked and then peaked in.
“Mornin’ Wes. We got your message. We just dropped by to see if there’s anything we can do to help with the healing.”
Wesley waved them in. “Ah, Fred...and Lorne...yes, come in. Have you seen Gunn yet?”
Lorne and Fred both shook their heads in the negative. “But I did see his truck in the garage, so he must be here. I can go find him if you want?” Fred was out of her chair and already leaving when Wesley stopped her.
“No, Fred, that’s fine. I’m sure he’s around some place. I just want to make sure he’s aware of the schedule. Fala said it was imperative that her closest family be in attendance for guidance and support.”
“Does that mean we’ll all be...I dunno...going on some psychedelic soul trip? Oh! Is there peyote involved? Because that stuff can really mess you up.” Fred’s eyes glistened slightly and the corners of her lips edged up into a hopeful grin. She saw Lorne and Wesley staring at her like she wasn’t speaking English. Fred’s smile faded and she fussed with the folds of her skirt. “Well, that’s what I’ve heard any way.”
Lorne patted her arm knowingly. “Fred, my little roach clip, I don’t think we’ll be riding that particular magic bus today, will we Wes?”
“Uh, no. You’re absolutely right, Lorne. No magic bus for us. As I understand it, our spirits are there to surround them and keep the two who are being joined centered. Apparently, without that support, they can get lost in each other and never return. So it is vital that we all be there.”
Lorne took a sip of his Bloody Mary. “Lord knows we don’t need those two getting any more lost in each other than they already are. So count us in, right sugar lumps?”
“Oh, sure. I wouldn’t miss it. This is just so excitin’. I mean the whole joinin’ and healin’ and then gettin’ Cordy back. It’s gonna be the best day of my life next to comin’ back from Pylea, of course.” Fred’s grin was infectious and both men caught it.
Then there was the uncomfortable silence. Lorne and Fred looked at each other and passed eye signals and twitches between them. Wes thought they might have something more to say, but when neither spoke, he felt the need to do so.
“All right, then. If you’ll excuse me, I have a million things to do to get ready...”
“Wesley, about the whole bein' Angel’s dad thing...,” Fred piped up. “We were just wonderin’ how you were feelin’ about that. I mean it’s got to be really strange to wake up one day and find out you were your best friend’s dad. That kinda thing happens all the time in Texas, but I’m guessin’ not so much where you’re from. And then, on top of all that, your son is a 250 year-old vampire!”
“What tidbit is trying to say is we can see how this might be a little awkward and, well, we just want you to know that there’s no need to feel that way. I’ve always known you and Angel were connected at a deep level...”
“You knew?” Wesley asked amazed.
“No, not that specifically. I just read auras. I don’t pick up the souls-of-my-life channel. Strictly out of my range. I just mean I knew there was something very strong that you two had in common, so it doesn’t surprise me or any of us really.”
Fred tried to help. “Yeah, we all knew you two were a lot alike. All hero like, and you both can brood like nobody’s business, and how you both were attracted to Cordy...”
“In that respect, sweetums, we are all soul brothers.” Lorne thought it best to cut her off before she helped them out of jobs.
Wesley smiled and felt warmed by their concern. “I’ll admit when Fala first said that I had been Angel’s father, I was more than stunned. And that there was some awkwardness immediately thereafter goes without saying. But I’ve thought about it, and I find it neither troubling nor important. I am obviously not really Angel’s father. I have no memories of that life, so it’s not as if I must treat him as my son or apologize for anything his father may have done to him. I am Wesley Wyndham-Price and whatever lessons I’m destined to learn in this life I will do so as Wesley Wyndham-Price. Nothing has changed except another piece of the puzzle is in place.”
“So you’re not gonna ask Angel more about his father...uh...about what you were like back then?”
“I’m sure we’ll talk more on the matter at times. But just as I don’t see myself as his father, Angel doesn’t regard me as that either. Even if he did, what his father never gave him was approval and respect. He already has that from me. If that gives him some measure of peace, then I’m more than happy that it worked out this way.”
Scene 5
“So Wes is your dad? I’d better not find out that I was your sister, because that would just be ewwww.”
They had stayed up most of the night talking until finally Angel collapsed on the bed at about 4:30. He and Dennis were now cleaning up the results of yesterday’s hauntapalooza so the place would be conducive to the important ceremony to come in only little more than an hour.
Angel picked up a soaked roll of toilet paper and scrunched his face at the thought of where it might have gotten wet. “No, Fala’s mother was my sister. So you don’t have to worry about that. Maybe you were my mother.” He was so helpful.
“Okay, you realize you can never touch me again, and that whole leering hungrily at my breasts takes on a whole new meaning.”
He read the paper floating in front of him and laughed. “I didn’t think about that. And I don’t look at your breasts hungrily. I’m a leg and ass man.”
“You’re putting me to sleep with that fairy tale. You’re a boob man all the way. Ass is second and legs are third.”
Angel was shocked she had him pegged. But he wasn’t about to let her know she was right. He pulled the meat cleaver from the front door frame and prodded, “Just how do you know that?”
“Simple moron. You stare at my boobs coming and you stare at my ass going. And I’ve caught you more times than I can count looking at my cleavage instead of my eyes when I’m talking to you. Why do you think I wear all those low-cut shirts anyway? Because you like my teeth?”
He rolled up a ball of twine while he read. “That’s not proof of which I prefer. I never said I didn’t like breasts, just that they weren’t my first choice. And what sane man wouldn’t look at your cleavage if given the opportunity? Do you really wear that stuff for me?”
“If you want to keep pretending I’m wrong, fine. Whatever. But once I get back I’ll prove I’m right. And, I wear what I wear for me first and only secondly for whomever I feel deserves me.”
He stopped sweeping when he read that last line. “And that would be me? You feel I deserve you?” He heard pounding in his ears like the heartbeat he didn’t have. He waited and waited what seemed a lifetime for the next words to appear on the page.
“Are you going to answer the door, dufus? Or are you just going to stand there and drool some more?”
Scene 6
The atmosphere changed from the Angel and Soul Cordy flirt festival to one of a funeral home with the arrival of her body. When they rolled her in on the gurney, the apartment become suddenly very tiny. A horizontal person takes up so much more floor space than a vertical one.
They moved the dining room table into the kitchen so the portable bed and all the equipment could be set up in its place. Angel would be occupying the bedroom once it was time.
After the staff finished setting up and made sure her vitals were stable, Angel instructed them to leave but stay close by in case they were needed. Once they were gone, Angel watched as Dennis pulled a soft blanket from a closet and gently covered her, carefully tucking it under all the wires connected to her.
“Thank you, Dennis,” Angel said. He went to her side and picked up her hand. “Can you feel that, Cordy?”
The pad and pen appeared before him. “No. I’m not in there, Angel. But don’t stop. I can imagine how it feels.”
He held on and just looked at her. Even though he’d been talking to her soul out of this body for the last eight hours, he still couldn’t believe she wasn’t in there. Dennis created a light breeze to push a strand of hair from her forehead.
“Angel, did you tell someone to bring me some clothes? Because I really hate that cotton bag they’ve got me in right now and the first thing I’m going to want to do is take that off.”
“Oh, damn, I’m sorry. I forgot about clothes. I’ll call Fred right now.” He pulled out his cell and punched the speed dial for Fred just as the door opened and Wesley entered.
“Hello,” Wesley announced. Angel waved him in and the pad of paper sped to his face. Wesley was taken aback by its sudden appearance but watched curiously as Dennis scribbled.
“Congratulations daddy! Imagine the 250 years of Father’s Day presents you’ve missed out on.”
Wesley just frowned. “Love you too, Cordelia. Hello Dennis. Nice to see you again. I don’t suppose we could never mention this again, Cordy.”
“Not likely. And Dennis says hello and back atcha. Wesley, I just want to say thank you for doing this. Angel told me what happened. I’m glad you didn’t give up.”
“Yeah, Wes. Thanks for not giving up. I’m not sure I said that before.” Angel had put his cell back in his pocket and crossed to Wesley to relieve him of some of his packages when he saw Cordy’s message.
“You’re both welcome, although I did give up and I’m not proud of it. But, no matter, because Cordelia had a vision, Dennis gave us the message and the Powers That Be have seen fit to provide us with a small miracle. Said miracle should be here any moment, and I need to begin setting up.”
Wesley set his bag on the floor and stepped just outside the door while Angel carried his parcel into the kitchen. “Frank! Sam! Bring the rest of the equipment up. And don’t forget the heavy chains.”
That last part was yelled into the intrigued face of Angel’s neighbor, Scott, who’d just come home for lunch. He stared at Wesley as he passed and winked. Wesley just grinned uncomfortably and said, “Yes, that’s right. Chains. Perhaps you’d like to drop by later for a little test run.”
“Love to. And who should I oil my whip for?”
“Angel. Just ask for Angel.” Wesley went back into the apartment and closed the door. The message was in his face immediately.
“You are my hero. Dennis.”
“I doubt Scott or Angel will feel the same. I wish I could see it, though,” Wesley whispered.
“I’ll take notes.”
“Thank you, Dennis. You really are very thoughtful.”
“Who’s thoughtful?” Angel asked as came from the kitchen sipping from a cup of freshly warmed blood that Wesley had brought with him.
“Oh, Dennis is. He just offered to carry this bag into the kitchen for me.” The bag lifted and teetered in mid air and then floated gracefully out of sight.
“So are we set, Wes? Did you bring everything we need?”
“Yes, I believe so. The guys are bringing up the rest including the chains. How’s Cordy doing? Her body I mean.”
“She seems fine.” Angel was interrupted by knocking at the door. Wesley turned and opened it to allow the rest of the W&H team in followed by Fala and Tekla.
Angel and Wesley greeted them with warm smiles. Angel set his cup of blood down and proceeded to shake Tekla’s hand and Wesley followed suit.
Fala spoke sensing their discomfort at what to say next. “Wesley, is everything here? We should review the ritual before the others arrive.”
“Yes, of course. I thought we would set up in here.” Wesley indicated the living room and he and Fala disappeared into the kitchen to retrieve the necessary items.
Angel realized he was alone with Tekla and tried to think what would be the proper thing to say to a woman he didn’t know who used to be his sister but doesn’t remember him being her brother. The pad flew in his face and Tekla was startled.
“Ask your sister to come in and sit down, dumb ass.”
“Huh? Oh! Please come in. Have a seat, and don’t mind the flying paper. It’s just Cordy speaking through her ghost.”
“Oh, I see. But, no thank you, I can't. I’m just dropping Fala off. She explained to me the ceremony and the purpose, and I can’t intrude. It’s a family matter. But here’s my number...two numbers actually. Call me when Fala’s done, and I’ll pick her up.”
“We can bring her home when we’re done. It wouldn’t be any trouble.”
“Oh, okay. But call first, because I may be out picking up some things to patch up Fala’s room.”
Angel felt totally stupid. And inadequate and selfish. Here this woman was trusting him with her daughter, who was doing them the biggest favor anyone could ask, they’d totally destroyed part of her house in the fighting, and now she was expected to go to Home Depot and buy her own replacement windows and install them.
“I’m sorry. I should have...this is completely..." Exasperated by his own verbal fumbling, he finally stopped, calmed himself and made his point. "Let me help. You’re doing so much for us. I’ll make a call right now and have her room back to normal before she gets home.”
“You don’t have to...really? Because that would be a big relief.” Tekla couldn’t believe her good fortune. She and Fala barely scraped by and the thought of the expense and work involved in repairing all the damage had weighed on her heavily today.
“Oh, absolutely. Why don’t you go home and my guys will be there in 30 minutes.”
“Okay!” For the first time since he’d met her, she smiled and Angel caught a tiny glimpse of Kate. His lungs involuntarily sucked in a small bit of air at the unexpected sight.
“Thank you, Angel. I appreciate it. Good luck. Fala, goodbye sweetheart. I’ll see you later.”
“Bye mommy.” She waved to her as Tekla left and closed the door.
Angel stared at the closed door for a second and then was distracted by the note Dennis placed in front of him.
“That was really nice, big guy. I’m proud of you. I guess W&H is good for something after all.”
“Thank you and you’ll find they’re good for lots of things. Like all the designer clothes you could ever want.” He flipped open his cell one more time and called his secretary. As he told her what he wanted, another message floated by.
“You are so not tempting me with that, Satan’s toady. Although I will be needing a few modest outfits. Nothing special. Perhaps something vintage. In red silk preferably. Surprise me. You’re so good at buying women’s clothes. Damn! I caved already.”
Angel finished the call and was about to gloat when the rest of the family arrived. As soon as he saw them all, he began to feel anxious. He had been having so much fun with Cordy, he’d forgotten the seriousness of what was about to happen.
He was about to lose his soul...again. And, whether or not she came back to him, to them all, depended on whether he could help heal her. His chest tightened followed by every muscle in his body. Whoever listens to these kinds of things, please listen now. Give me the strength to save her. After that, I don’t care what you do with me.
Scene 7
"Comfy?"
"Oh, yeah, Wes. Where do you buy your chains? They're so soft and cuddly. Not at all restraining, heavy or reminiscent of other torture devices I've known."
"There's a new place in Noho. Victoria's Secret Chamber. I'll give you the number."
Angel grinned and struggled to test them one more time. He was satisfied there was no way he'd get out. "Okay. I'm ready. Hit me with the good stuff."
The doctor was about to inject him with the tranquilizer when Dennis flashed a message in front of him.
"Angel, you don't have to do this. I'm scared."
"I'm not, Cordy. And I want to."
"And if you can't get back?"
"Then we'll be floating in the ether together which doesn't sound scary or horrible to me, and Wes will stake my ass. I don't really see a downside."
"Now I'm really scared. Do I have to float around with you forever?"
Angel just smiled. Still covering up her true fears with jokes. "Okay, maybe there's a downside for you. Sorry."
He turned his head to the doctor with the needle. "Let's do it."
As the liquid entered his body and the delicious darkness fell over his eyes, he promised, "See you soon, Cor."
Wesley made sure he was under and confirmed it with the doctor before ordering him to leave. Heading back into the living room to join the others, he was stopped by another message.
"Don't let him die, Wesley. No matter what happens, he doesn't die. Got it?"
He was about to argue with the pad of paper, but thought it pointless. He knew he wouldn't be able to give up on Angel if anything went wrong any more than he could give up on Cordelia. "Message received, Cordelia. I won't let anyone die."
"I'm hugging you right now whether you like it or not."
He knew it was just his imagination, but he thought he could feel her warm arms wedge themselves between his hanging limbs and torso and wrap around his waist, and the weight of her head against his chest just where it should be. He held the sensation for a few seconds longer than he would have allowed in real life, before composing himself and entering the ceremonial ground of the living room.
The room was ready. The shades were down and drapes drawn, and candlelight bathed the room in an amber glow. Fala stood in the middle of the room with a small pedestal table. On the table was a hand-thrown earthen bowl containing the ingredients required. All of the herbs and roots were traditional healing varieties and were nestled in fresh soil. Beside the bowl was a carafe of water, another small bowl with salt and matches.
The furniture had been either removed or pushed back as far as possible to reveal enough space for the rest of the soul team to sit in a circle surrounding Fala. Wesley sat with his back to the picture window, Fred on his left with her back to the front door, Gunn was opposite him seated closest to the bedroom, and Lorne on Wesley's right facing away from the fireplace.
Fala had directed where they should sit and explained the importance of each one. "Wesley, you are north and winter. You are the compass that guides and blanket that covers the family and keeps them directed and bound. Fred, you are east and spring. You are the hope of new day and the vessel of creation. Gunn, you are south and summer. You are the equator, the center fulcrum that balances the light and the dark. Lorne, you are west and autumn. You are the peace at the end of day and the harvester of life."
Yeah, whatever. Gunn couldn't give a rat's ass about all this crap. All he cared about was the fact that she had put him in the best place to accomplish his mission. Of course, little miss saves-a-lot-of-souls had no clue she'd just helped him take one. Make that two. His satisfied grin turned grim when he felt that prickling sensation on the back of his neck again. This time he knew the source and looked up to see Fala's cool gaze trained on him.
She didn't blink or bend from her stony stance as she asked, "Gunn, are you ready to do this?"
There was an edge to her question. A double edge that should have worried him, but his adrenalin-coursed blood was pounding too loudly. It drowned out any subtleties in her voice.
He didn't hesitate to meet her glare with his steely resolve. "I'm always ready."
She slowly left his gaze and lifted the matches. The scraping of the match head against the rough edge and the sound of the resultant blaze drew everyone's attention to the flame. Fala spoke the words known to her for an eternity and dropped the fire onto the parched leaves. The white smoke from the burning herbs and the ancient chant wound around the soul of the sleeping demon. There was no tugging or gut wrenching pangs. The soul left the body like a slow mist rising to reclaim its rightful place in the sun’s rays.
Scene 8
He had just closed his eyes and said ‘see you soon, Cor’ and then he did. See her. All of her. And she was seeing all of him. They scanned each other quickly, Cordy let out an ‘eek’ and ran for the nearest cover.
“Okay, who’s Adam and Eve fantasy is this? Yours or mine?” Cordy was peeking out from behind a large tree nestled in dense rain forest foliage. About thirty feet from her was Angel, his torso exposed but his lower half had found refuge among some large palm fronds.
Angel looked down at himself and mentally thanked the PTBs that he was at least flaccid...so far. “I guess ‘good to see you’ wouldn’t be an entirely appropriate thing to say right now, huh?” He raised his head enough to timidly glance at her and saw her laughing.
“Okay, the whole ‘baring the soul’ analogy is not lost on me, but it’s kind of obvious, isn’t it?
When her laughing tapered off they were suddenly left with the naked facts and a lot of silence. Angel felt like it was time to get down to the business of healing. Only neither one of them knew how to do that. Fala had only told him he would know what to do, but Angel didn’t know. He was totally clueless and absolutely terrified.
Suddenly coming face to face with Angel, nude or not, after all this time left Cordy witless. It really seemed like there should be a lot of funny stuff to comment on considering their situation, but her mind went blank. The only thought she could form was that Angel was here, and that made her unexpectedly apprehensive. Angel's timid voice broke the silence and startled her.
“Cordy. Uh...this might be difficult, but maybe we shouldn’t be so far apart. I mean it’s going to be hard to talk when we have to shout at each other.”
“And you think it’ll be easier if we’re naked and close together?”
Okay, she had a point. “Well, maybe the whole idea is that nothing stands between us. Nothing distracts us from the healing...thing.”
“Angel there are naked body parts standing between us that can do a helluva lot of distracting. Some simple Egyptian cotton sheets shouldn’t have been too much to ask for.”
Her voice was sounding a bit panicky. Angel decided the first step was to be brave enough to break the barrier. “How about this? You stay where you are and I’ll come closer to you. Is that okay with you?”
“I guess so. But stay on the other side of this tree and no peeking! Promise?”
“I promise. Okay, I’m coming over.” Angel stepped out from his hiding place and was tempted to break off a frond to cover himself. But he decided that would just make it appear like her fears over the nudity were justified. He’d gotten little more than half way to her when the earth suddenly gave way and swallowed him. “Shit!”
“What? What happened?” Cordy peeped around the tree and saw Angel up to his shoulders in quicksand. She raced from behind the tree toward him but skidded short when he yelled, “Stop! Don’t get any closer. You’re right at the edge of it.”
“I’ve got to get you out of there.” She frantically looked around for some vine or branches to reach him with. When she could find nothing she got desperate. “Helloooo! Tarzan! Jane! Whatever the monkey’s name was!! Somebody help!!”
“Cheetah.” A voice from the ooze said.
Cordy stared at Angel oblivious. “Huh?”
“The monkey’s name. Cheetah.”
“That is so not important right now. But what is important is that you are staring at my breasts. Ah hah!! I was right! You are a breast man!” She stuck her tongue out at him to accentuate her victory.
Angel sighed and relented. “Fine, you were right. Breasts one, ass two, legs three. Happy? Can we get back to dead man about to be deader?”
Cordy was about to return into flighty anxious naked girl when it hit her. “Wait a minute. You don’t breath, so if you sink, you won’t die...more. You’ll just be covered with gunk. Wow, that’s a relief.” She stood there, hands on her hips and couldn’t decide whether to go back into hiding, stay standing or sit in some awkward way. Nude sitting had its exposure problems.
“Angel, could you stop staring at my...uh...middle?”
“I’m sorry, Cordy. It’s either look at your feet...which is kind of weird talking to your feet...or try to stretch to look at your face which is beginning to hurt my neck. The middle is just the most comfortable.”
“Well, not for me. Scoot over, I’m coming in.” She dipped her toe in to test the temperature and shivered.
“No! Are you nuts? If you sink, you’ll die.” Angel struggled to stop her but only succeeded in being sucked in a little more.
“I won’t die. Well, I could die if we don’t do this right. But, I just figured it out. This isn’t real. This is just a metaphor. The quicksand represents everything that needs to be healed. I think I have to immerse myself in it to understand.” She slid into the murky gunk and was now face to face with Angel.
“Once we fix whatever’s bothering me, the quicksand will disappear. Probably. Besides at least we’re covered and you don’t have that pesky where-to-look dilemma.” She still had the smile, even up to her chin in gritty mud.
Angel finally thought of a question and hoped it would start a deeper conversation. “So why were you so embarrassed about being naked? You’ve got to know you’re a gorgeous woman and have nothing to be ashamed of.”
She squirmed a little and the quicksand tugged at her. “It’s not that. I don’t care how great looking you are, most people aren’t comfortable being exposed like that…being defenseless.”
“And that’s how it makes you feel? Defenseless?”
“Well, duh. Don’t you feel that way? You ran for cover just like I did.”
“Well, I didn’t exactly run. I could see how uncomfortable you were about it, so I wanted to take the pressure off. They’re just bodies. We’ve all got ‘em.”
Something about this conversation bothered Cordy tremendously and she desperately wanted to change course. “We need to discuss more serious matters than my body anxiety. I think we should just leap head first into the deep end. Let’s talk about Connor.”
His first reaction was shock that she remembered. She hadn't said a word about Connor all night, and he had accepted that she was just as affected by the spell as everyone else. Now that he realized she remembered him, he felt so confused. Grateful that someone else remembered him. Someone he could talk to and remember with. He didn't have to fear forgetting him if someone else remembered him, too. But, he was so terrified because that person was Cordelia. The one person of all of them that he'd hoped would be spared remembering.
What could he say? He didn't know what to say, so he hoped they could put this conversation off. He could dodge and parry as well as she could.
"Can we not talk about Connor right now?
“We can't avoid talking about Connor. He’s in the middle of all of this and... Oh, my God! What’s happening?" Cordy’s eyes widened and her mouth froze open as she tried to breathe through the fear.
Their world abruptly shifted. It felt like the entire landscape was a roller coaster ride. The mire they were in sported thick, gelatinous waves crashing at their chins. They could see the leaves shaking violently and the trees slowly swaying to their breaking points.
“Angel, what’s happening,” Cordy screamed over the rumbling surrounding them.
He was just as baffled as she was. “I don’t know. Just hang on!”
“To what?” The waves were getting bigger and a line of mud was etched just below her lips where the last wave had landed. If this continued much longer, she knew she would be yanked below the surface completely.
Angel rarely saw terror on Cordelia. She refused to show it on her face even if she couldn’t keep from experiencing it now and then. But he recognized it now. Summoning every bit of strength he possessed, he willed his arms to reach for her through the unforgiving, powerful slime.
Scene 9
It had been so easy to slip out. Everyone’s eyes were closed as Fala had instructed so they could focus their minds on Angel and Cordelia. His cat prowess allowed him to slink from the living room to the bedroom on padded toes. The door to the room was open and he had no trouble detailing exactly where Angel’s body was amid the shadows.
Gunn removed the stake from his pant waist, nestled in the small of his back where it had been hidden by his jacket. He inched closer to the bed, raising the stake higher and rolling the smooth wood around in his palm feeling for the perfect grip. The vampire didn’t move and didn’t breathe. “It’s already dead.”
He’d made it to the bed without a sound. The weapon of death was raised to the apex. All he needed to do was bring it home and he would be back. Back on top where he belonged.
A breeze at his ear caused him to twitch. He shook his head to regain the single-minded purpose and recapture the voice. “Just don’t look at its face.” There it was. His muse purring, reverberating in his head. Guiding him to his glory. He tensed his arm muscles and squeezed the wood until it creaked ready to split under the pressure.
The door to the bedroom slammed loudly. Gunn turned his head expecting to see a foe attacking but no one was there. Another waft of air cooled his sweat-drenched forehead. “Now! Before anyone comes. Do it now!” Gunn turned to dust the manipulator of his soul, but he stopped short as Angel’s form was replaced by another visage. The eyes that were open and pleading with him belonged to a memory. The sister he had been forced to stake so long ago.
“Alana?” He whispered in disbelief.
“You don’t have to do this. I can make it stop. Do you want me to make it stop?” Alana’s voice and her undead eyes were filled with love for her big brother...just like it was before. Before he’d come and she’d died in his place.
Everything was Angel’s fault. It should have been him he’d dusted, not his sister. He didn’t know how, but he knew if Angel had never shown up in their lives, Alana would still be alive. He’d been distracted by the strange vamp. If he had never been there, they wouldn’t have chased him into that warehouse where she almost got impaled. Angel didn’t save her. He almost got her killed. And then he was there again when they kidnapped her and turned her. It was Angel’s fault! He owed that demon nothing except payback for Alana.
And now this...this magic trick. This wasn’t Alana. Alana was dead!
Gunn closed his eyes and raised the stake with both hands above his head.
“It wasn’t your fault. I forgive you.” Her words were a bullet through the wall around his heart. It was just a crack, but enough of one for all his doubts to push through it until the crack became a fissure, then a crevice and then weakened from the pressure, it tumbled.
His hands trembled and the muscles in his arms turned to mush. The stake suddenly felt as heavy as an anvil, and he let it slip from his hands. Rubber legged, he collapsed wrapping his arms around her body sobbing.
“Please make the pain stop, Alana. Please.”
The shadows in the room began to move, crawling wordlessly into the corners, up the wall and disappearing somewhere above the ceiling. In a moment the gray bedroom morphed into the brightness of the white room temporarily blinding him. When his vision cleared, Gunn stood alone, arms no longer wrapped around the ghost. She was now in the middle of the room facing the snarling, drooling black cat.
“Alana, no!” Gunn moved to shield her from the impending attack but like the first time he tried to save her, his legs felt like lead and time slowed to a crawl. He watched horrified as the feline propelled its sleek, powerful body at the frail vision.
Alana transformed and took flight in a blur of lustrous black feathers before a claw could draw blood. The bird dug its talons into the panther’s ears and held the death grip as the animal rolled and pawed to free itself. A steel beak pounded into the yellow eyes like a jackhammer. First one and then the other until there was nothing left but hollowed out pits.
But still the animal roared and bucked desperate to maul the offending winged creature. The beak dug deeper into the bloodied openings and pecked at the center of the cat’s power. Little by little, bits of brain were cleaved and discarded until finally nothing remained of worth but the fur carcass.
Gunn was made breathless by the battle and dropped to his knees. With the death of the panther all of the ambiguities of his life flooded back to him. Gone in an instant was the clarity he craved, replaced with the murkiness that comes with free will. He thought he was back to the beginning, back to the pain and unbearable loss and it tore at his sanity.
“You veered from your path, Gunn.”
He lifted his head and watched amazed as the triumphant crow drifted to earth and shifted into the child, Fala.
“Why? Why did she die?” He felt this child, this spirit, knew the answer and everything in him needed to know.
“She didn’t die. Her form is gone, but not the sister you loved. She will live again and you will know her again. You have always known her.”
This was all mystic crap. It had nothing to do with anything. “You didn’t answer my question. Why did she die?”
Fala sighed. “She died because she was ready. That’s why we all die. She couldn’t wait until you were ready to let her go. If that’s how it worked, no one would ever transcend beyond their first life. You must learn this, Charles, before you will be ready to move on. Which, by the way, will not be for some time as long as you don’t veer again.” She grinned knowingly and reached out her hand for his.
He stood, her small hand still enveloped by strong, fighting ones. Looking down at her, Gunn’s eyes silently asked one last question. A prayer needing answered.
“Yes, she’s happy.” Gunn let out the breath he’d been holding since he had inhaled his sister’s dusted remains. The relief that flooded his veins warmed him heart and soul. He finally allowed himself to be happy for her and found joy and peace in that moment.
Fala squeezed his hand and led him toward the exit. His vision blurred from the blinding light before him, and in an instant the white room was left behind for good.
At once he was back in his position in the circle. All eyes were still closed except for her intense blues. In his mind he heard her say, “Focus on life, Charles. Focus on the rest of your family here and now. They need you.”
The last thing he saw before he closed his eyes was the smiling face of Alana letting him go.
Scene 10
Through sheer willpower he had managed to move his arms and body enough to reach her and drag her to him. As the world trembled and crumbled around them, he held onto Cordy determined not to let her drown. She had enough adrenalin coursing through her to clamp onto his waist while he held her upper arms.
When the quaking finally subsided, they both loosened their grips but didn’t let go.
“What the hell was that,” her voice shook echoing the trembling still in the pit of her stomach.
“I’m not sure, but whatever it was seems to be over. Are you okay?”
“Oh, sure. But I’ve gotta say, I’ll never jones for a mud bath again because this stuff is just finding all sorts of places to seep into...and ewwww.” She scrunched up her nose and wrinkled her forehead and Angel couldn’t help but chortle and concede he had the same problem.
When they both shook the mental pictures of seeping mud from their minds, Cordy sucked up her courage and forged ahead. “Okay, here’s the thing. I’m pretty much over this ‘see who can be the most avoidy jerk’ battle we’ve got going here. I want to get back in my body and I definitely don’t want to stay in this crap any longer that I have to. So let’s start talking and only the truth passes through our lips no matter how much it hurts. Deal?”
Angel knew it was now or never. No matter how fractured she might be, there was no stopping a determined Cordelia Chase. He only hoped he’d know what the truth was when the time came.
“You’re right. We’ve got to do this and get it over with. As strange as this may sound coming from a vampire, but I’d give anything for a nice confessional booth with curtains and some wood between us.” He smiled nervously and Cordy wanted to slap him on the side of the head, but remained restrained. “Where should we start?”
Cordy shrugged. “You’re the master healer. You pick.”
There were so many self-inflicted gunshot wounds to the foot where these two were concerned. So they started at the beginning and worked their way to the present. They talked for hours about seemingly every detail of every day since they met again in LA. It was obvious that they were both guilty of being over protective of the other’s feelings, and that ultimately resulted in all the misunderstandings. After rehashing the Darla saga and why he’d lied, they tackled her lies about the visions and how they were killing her.
The major theme of all their discussions boiled down to lies. Lies told to avoid pain and stave off the inevitable arguments. As they both firmly resolved not to lie to one another again, the viscous goo lightened its hold on them and they floated a bit higher. Encouraged by the change, they were both eager to keep going...but slowly.
There were still scores of unspoken hurts and unanswered questions, but Angel wasn’t quite ready to tackle the really big bads like Jasmine or Connor. The talk of the visions, though, had reminded him of something Skip had said about Cordy being manipulated. And, that this influence over her stemmed from the visions and her becoming demon. He knew how the visions started, but the demon part... Well, she’d kind of glossed over that, and he’d never pushed her on it before. But now it was time.
“Why did you become a demon, Cordy? The one thing I’d love to be free of, and you chose it. Why?”
“I told you why. One, the visions were killing me. Two, I didn’t want to die. Three, the visions were making you crazy. Four, I chose the only logical option which was to become part demon.”
“Whoa, back up a second. The visions were making me crazy? What the hell are you talking about?”
Oops, here it was. The little tidbit she'd left out of her original story. Why she felt it necessary to lie about it the first time wasn't exactly clear now. Except she knew he would've been pissed that he was part of the reason she was now part demon.
“You know the PTBs gave me an alternate life. What I didn't tell you about was that in this other life you had my visions and you had been driven crazy by them. I don’t understand why since you’re a demon and all, but I like to think it’s because I wasn’t around to sooth your ass off.”
She smiled waiting for the patented Angel smirk and...uh....just a second...oh...oh....there it was.
“So there you were living in a dingy room, filthy and completely nutso and something in me needed to help you, and the only thing I could think to do to calm you down was to kiss you. So I did. And then, history repeated itself, and I got the visions back. That’s when Skip told me about the demon loophole and I took it.”
“So that’s how they did it. They used me to manipulate you into becoming half demon.”
“I wasn’t manipulated, Angel. I chose to do it. Not because of you. Well, not just because of you. I knew before I saw you that my life was supposed to be about more than acting. Seeing you like that only made it easier for me to do what I already knew I wanted to do.”
“But, Skip said we had all been manipulated. That you had been tricked into becoming a demon.”
“And you believed an evil, lying mercenary because? Why? Huh? Because Angelus never fibbed? Angelus never tortured anyone by playing on their fears before? Please, Angel, no one manipulated me or you. If you truly believe that, then our whole life together is a lie, we aren’t really friends, and why exactly are we here trying to get back to that big lie?”
“Wait. How did you know what Skip said? You weren’t there. You were in the warehouse...”
“I was never here, Angel. I didn’t leave the higher plane until Jasmine left my body. Then I fell hard.”
God, Angel was confused. “But, Skip said you were in there just not driving.”
“Again with the trusting of the evil demon Skip. Sure he was fun as hell, but he was a liar! The moment I entered the higher realm, Jasmine began slowly worming her way into my body and pushing me out. It took some time because apparently I’m stubborn.”
“I’ve heard that about you. Never noticed it myself.” Cordy was about to call him on yet another untruth, when Angel blurted out, “That was sarcasm, not a lie!”
“Damn you’re getting too good at reading me. Is there no mystery left between us? Anyway, the point is that Jasmine was here in my body, but I was trapped up there watching with no way to tell you.”
Angel had desperately hoped that she, somehow, had been spared seeing and knowing how the being that possessed her body had tricked them and used them. His guilt about not knowing it wasn’t Cordy doing all those things, but an evil interloper instead was excruciating.
“You shouldn’t have had to tell me. I should’ve known it wasn’t you. I thought I knew you so well, but along comes something masquerading as you, and I fall for it without hesitating. I know it’s an excuse, but I just wanted you back so much and was so grateful that you were back that I didn’t think or question anything. I’m so sorry I let you down and...everybody.” He couldn’t look at her now. The weight of the shame and guilt on his conscious was so heavy he couldn’t lift his head.
“Angel, I’ll admit that it hurt me that you couldn’t tell the difference between me and a hideous monster at first. But I know you didn’t let this happen or allow it to happen. She used your feelings for me to tie you up in knots and keep you confused. It happened TO you just like it happened to me. I don’t blame you and it won’t do you any good to blame yourself.”
“But when you...it... With Connor...I should have known. God, Cor, you could never do that. He was like your son! Instead of trying figure out what was going on, I turned my back on you and him.” His eyes were filled with tears and they spilled freely when he finally looked up and saw her crying and chewing on her bottom lip.
He was so vulnerable right now. She wanted to take him in her arms and rock him until the hurt faded, but she couldn’t get past her own pain at the mention of the rape of her body. And the fact that he hadn’t at that moment known for sure it wasn’t her in bed with Connor was the reason she was broken.
She felt it and realized it for the first time. There was some part of Angel that felt she could do that and that’s why he had believed it. And there was some part of her that knew she had done that...before...and she didn’t deserve any forgiveness.
All the memories that had been buried for so many years rushed in on her and swallowed her. All the feelings of shame and worthlessness that had tinged her soul most of her life were swirling in her stomach and making her sick. If she didn’t get the filth out of her, it would rise and choke her. But she just couldn’t speak. Her mind couldn’t form the words that would free her and Angel from their guilt. She couldn’t bare to see the disgust in his eyes if he knew.
Angel had no idea what Cordy was thinking. He only knew he needed her to say something. To forgive him one more time. But she only stared into space and cried. He wanted to touch her, but he was afraid she’d cringe. Her lips began to tremble, her soft tears became sobs and he couldn’t stay away from her any longer. He slowly and gently pulled her into his arms. When she didn’t respond, he felt she had finally left him.
He whispered in her ear, one last desperate plea. “Please forgive me, Cordy. I couldn’t live if you didn’t forgive me.” He hid his face in her shoulder and begged her with his tears.
She couldn’t take it anymore. He needed her forgiveness? Didn’t he know? Couldn’t he smell it on her? Wasn’t it obvious that she was a whore and that her veins stank with bile? His embrace was a too warm, and she didn’t want that comfort around her one second longer. She wasn’t worthy of it. She brought her hands up to his chest and clawed at him.
“No....no...no....don’t touch me! Get away from me!” Her banshee scream and scraping fingernails on his chest shocked Angel to his core and he backed away. Her eyes were wild and focused somewhere else, and her face was so contorted in remembered pain that he didn’t recognize her.
“Cordelia, please. Oh, God, I’m so sorry. Please, please forgive me.”
She finally heard his muffled voice through the years of suppression that blanketed her mind. She turned her gaze on him and saw the fear in his eyes and marks on his chest and she gasped as the horror descended on her conscious thought.
She began to speak haltingly and hauntingly. Telling him the story of who she was and why she could never forgive him.
“I was just a little girl... Maybe five or six... Daddy had clients, you know? And when one of them said something about what a beautiful girl I was, I guess something clicked in Daddy’s mind. He could use me to help him get the big deals...”
Angel didn’t understand what she was saying. It was as if they were in separate dimensions not just having different conversations. What did this have to do with Connor and forgiving him? What was she trying to say?
“At first it was just ‘Let Mr. So-and-So hold you in his lap, Cordelia’.... And then the touching started...in front of my Dad....huge hands sneaking under my dress...rough fingers and scraggly nails scratching between my skinny thighs...”
Finally it hit him what she was saying and he wanted to vomit.
“Then one night one of them came into my room... Daddy showed him the way and evened opened the door for him. Always the polite host.” Cordy sported a sarcastic curl of her lip. The first change in facial expression since she began speaking.
Angel wanted to kill something. He wanted to take her father and shred his skin slowly with his nails and then rip his dick off and shove it along with all of his severed fingers up his own ass. If he ever saw the bastard there was no way he would be able to stop himself.
“The man didn’t mind that I cried. I think it made him like me more because he came back several times. And there were others. Anybody that Daddy wanted to land and showed any interest in me... I don’t know how many there were. What’s funny is that I started developing early, about nine I guess, and that’s when they lost interest. I guess they only liked babies.”
She focused on Angel’s angry eyes and quickly looked away not knowing it wasn’t her he was furious with.
“I did tell him I didn’t want to do it. I did try to stop it. But Daddy just looked at me and said, ‘Cordelia, you have to learn what your assets are and use them if you want to get anything in this life’. So that’s just what I did. My whole life I used my body as my one and only asset to get what I wanted.”
She feared looking at Angel again, but she had to. She had to look into his eyes so when she explained the rest, he would know it was all her fault and he could forgive himself.
“Don’t you see? That’s why I was picked. For Jasmine. That’s why it was so easy for you to believe...Connor and me. You must’ve known what I was. It’s part of me. It’s ingrained in my DNA. I was born to be a whore and a slut and they knew that, and they knew you’d sense it. You did nothing wrong. I can’t forgive you, Angel, because you don’t need to be forgiven.”
She wanted to ask his forgiveness, but she knew she wasn’t deserving of it. His whole life was ruined because of her. His son was gone because of her. He’d never see Connor get married and know his grandchildren because of her. She prayed when they were through that Angel could go back to his life and find some happiness and that she would be allowed to fade away.
Angel was reeling. This was not happening to her. This did not happen to her. She could not truly believe that she was this vile being that she just described. How could she believe this about herself? This was Cordelia Chase. She knew herself and believed in herself more than anyone he’d ever known. What the fuck was happening here?
“Cordelia, I can’t believe... Are you insane? I’m sorry. I really want to just hold you and tell you everything will be all right, but I’m just too angry with you right now. How can you possibly believe that you are that person? I have never in my life met a more caring, loving, honest, sweet and strong person as you. What happened to you is the worst thing I can imagine...”
“That’s just it, Angel. You can’t imagine. You don’t know what it’s like to live every day knowing that the person you pretend to be isn’t who you are and you’re scared to death everyone knows or is going to find out. Have you felt the fear when a stranger next to you in line points at a woman and whispers ‘what a skanky ho’ and you’re sure they’re talking about you? Or the pain that tears at your gut when friends joke about sluts never realizing that they’re right next to one? Or how it proves to me I’m scum when the rape victim in a movie is treated like she deserved it or when a man looks at me and I know all he sees is a piece of ass? Do you know what that’s like? Every day some inconsequential thing reminds me that I’m trash. The dirty feeling never leaves. I scrub and scrub, but I know the stain of it can never be washed away.” Cordelia was gasping for breath and exhausted. She had no fight left in her and all she wanted was the peace of forgetting...again.
She was right. He didn’t know and he’d never know how much she’d lived through before he’d even met her. What was he thinking, yelling at her like that? Was he trying to debase her just like her father had for expressing her feelings? He could be such a prick sometimes. She had just told him something he was sure she’d never told anyone before and in spite of the disgust he felt at what had been done to her, he was more proud of knowing this woman than he’d ever been before.
“Cordelia? Do you have any idea how much I love you? Can you possibly fathom how much I admire you and wish I could be half the person you are?”
“Stop it, Angel. I don’t want or deserve your pity. I only wanted you to understand why none of this is your fault. So you can have a little peace about Connor.”
He walked through the now much thinner bog and grabbed her arms. “And that is exactly why I can’t imagine a more perfect human being than you. I’m not pitying you, Cordy. I’m in awe of you. Look at me. Please look in my eyes.”
She did as he requested and the love she saw there burned her. She didn’t want it. She couldn’t accept it.
“I know you don’t believe it now, but I am going to help you believe. I. Love. You. All of you. Everything you are. As much as you hate yourself right now, it’s only a tenth of the amount of respect I have for your strength and courage. You have to fight to stay a little longer. You have to give me a chance to prove to you that you are worth everything to me.”
Cordy knew he believed what he was saying, but she was just so tired. Maybe she could lean on him for awhile. Maybe she could let him lift her up and keep her feet from the mud that seemed to follow her everywhere.
He saw her eyes soften just a little and a final tear well up, spill and make a clean path through the grime on her cheek. It was the sign he’d been praying for. He put his arms around her and pulled her into his chest. When she relaxed into his embrace and tentatively slid her arms around him to accept his help, he felt the change in their surroundings.
The quicksand was no longer thick and sooty, but a clear and soothing stream caressing and cleansing their locked bodies. The forest seemed to come alive with sound and high above they heard the caw of a lone crow and watched its black, glossy wings glide toward them dancing on the wind.
Scene 10
The separating of the souls and re-ensouling had gone well and seemingly without a hitch. They would have to wait for the tranquilizer to wear off to make sure Angel was really back, but there was no reason to really doubt it. Fala had been certain he had returned to his body, and that was enough assurance for everyone. Of course, not enough to take the chains off yet. They weren’t that foolish.
The whole ritual had taken a little more than five hours and the entire crew was feeling the strain. Lorne and Fred had agreed to take Fala home and had just left. Wesley and Gunn remained behind to make sure that Cordy and Angel were fine.
She had awakened instantly and was anxious to see Angel, but her body was still very weak. So they carried her to him and laid her beside his still unconscious form. Dennis carried the blanket from the gurney and tucked it around her.
“Thank you, Dennis. How are you doing?”
The pad appeared and he said, “Lonely without you. I can’t sing for you now.”
“I’ll always remember your voice, and I’m not leaving you.”
“I know, but it’s not the same. But, I’m happy you’re okay now. I love you, you know.”
“And I love you. Don’t worry, sweetie, we’ll figure something out.”
Gunn stood in the doorway keeping an eye on them just in case Angelus woke up in Angel’s place. Wesley was in the living room gathering all the ritual items and generally putting the rooms back in order.
Cordy asked Gunn to put some candles around because the overhead light was too bright and still hurt her coma sensitive eyes. As he lit a candle close to her and the glow of the flame licked his face, Cordy studied him intensely.
She placed her hand on his wrist to draw him closer. “Something happened to you while we were getting all healed up, didn’t it? You’re different. I feel it.”
“Yeah, you could say I scratched an old itch. How about you? You all patched up?”
“I’m...still in the patchy stage, but I think a few more cases of gauze ought to cover all the major wounds.” She smiled but there was still pain in her eyes.
“Not a problem. You just say the word and I’m all over gauze patrol, and I’ll even throw in the tape free of charge. Nothing’s too good for you, Queen C.” He bent down and tenderly kissed her forehead.
Angel moaned and the chains rattled next to her. Gunn retrieved his stake from the dresser preparing for the worst. Cordy stroked his cheek and whispered in his ear, “Hey. Are you in there, soul boy? C’mon talk to me.”
The vampire growled and licked his lips trying to come back from the void. His eyes fluttered and he felt the warm, soft stroke of her hand coaxing him gently from slumber. He blinked a few times to adjust to the light and turned his head toward the radiant body next to him. When he saw the dark hazel pools gazing at him, he remembered everything and felt such gratitude that she had believed in him enough to try. She had come back and it was enough.
Cordelia knew just what he was thinking. “What can I say? I’m a glutton for punishment. Now what’s the code word so Gunn here doesn’t dust you and all that wonderful mud wrestling goes to waste?”
“Code word? Was I supposed to have a code word?”
“Angel, just tell me something we talked about while we were gone, so we’ll know for sure it’s you and not Angelus. Not that I don’t already know, but you know Gunn. Picky, picky, picky.” She smiled, and Gunn relaxed a little.
Angel thought for a moment and then said, “Cheetah!” Proud of himself for thinking of the perfect code, he flashed them both his dorkiest grin.
Gunn lowered his stake and pulled out the keys for the locks. “I don’t know if that’s right or not, but that stupid ass smile can only belong to Angel. Angelus wouldn’t be caught dead with that grin on his face.”
Cordelia beamed at two of the amazing men in her life, and for the first time she felt like she was home.
Scene 11
Unchained and finally alone, Cordelia was resting on the bed and Angel was heating some blood in the kitchen. There was a knock at the door, and he padded barefoot and bare-chested with his warm brew to answer it. On the other side of the threshold was a leather-clad man with a spiked collar, holding a nasty looking black whip.
“Ooooo, but you’re a pretty one. I’m looking for an Angel and I’m praying to my guardian one that you’re it!” Scott, the chain-loving neighbor, was dressed for an evening of bondage fun just as promised.
Angel couldn’t think. Was he still in that strange soul world or maybe still dreaming? But why would he be dreaming of this?
“Where’s the tall, scruffy looking one with the British accent? Is he already tied up? Am I too late?” Scott peeked into the room searching for the party.
It was all beginning to gel in Angel’s mind. Chains, British guy... Yep, Wesley was dead meat.
“Oh, that would be Wesley Wyndham-Price the third. He works at Wolfram & Hart, downtown. I’m sorry, I forgot he said you’d be dropping by. He told me to tell you the party had moved to his place. He’s at 4370 Regency, number 15. The code for the building is 6886. Just go right up.”
“Well, thanks! Will you be coming later?”
“I might. But if I don’t, you tell Wesley that I’ll be sure and give him some cold, hard steel next time I see him.”
“Oh, my God.” Scott was still in the hall fanning himself when Angel closed the door and headed back to Cordelia to cheer her up with a smirk and funny story.
He didn’t notice the telephone handset rise in the air and the buttons punching out Wesley’s number. Now if only Dennis could figure out a way to warn him before Scott got there. Being a ghost wasn’t like it used to be...before he had friends to worry about...before he knew Cordelia. It was so much better. For the chance of being part of her life, he would die again and again.
Continue on...