Title: A Bad, Bad Day
Author: Dannyblue
Posted: 04-05-2002
Rating: PG 13
Email: dannyblue2@yahoo.com
Feedback: Yes, please.
Distribution: Anywhere, just drop me a note so I'll know where.
Summary: Cordelia gets caught up in some dead guy’s spell.
Spoilers: Set in season one, after “Hero”, before “To Shanshu In LA”.
Pairing: A/C/W friendship. (Season 1, remember.)
Disclaimer: I don’t own anyone or anything associated with “Angel” or “Buffy the Vampire Slayer”.
Note: 1) I love Gunn and Fred. But, I must admit, I look back fondly on the days when it was just Angel, Cordelia, and Wesley. So, struck by the nostalgia, bug I decided to write this.
2) I only have 4 episodes from Season 1 on tape. I’m one of those unlucky souls who haven’t seen the other 18 eps since they aired 2 years ago. So, if this doesn’t feel Season one-ish to you, let me know.
Part 1
“Jellybeans,” Cordelia Chase said.
Angel paused in the doorway between the inner and outer offices. Closing the file he’d been reading, he stared at his employee.
“Think about it.” Cordelia leaned eagerly across her desk. Her long, chestnut hair fell like a curtain across shoulders left bare by a tank top. “For weeks, you’ve been chased by the minions of hell, somehow managing to stay one step ahead of them. Your search for salvation has led you to the doors of Angel Investigations. At first, you feel uneasy in the dingy, cliché-noir offices. Then, you see something that makes you feel all warm and fuzzy. At home. *Safe*.”
Cordelia cast an expectant glance in Angel’s direction. Since this seemed to be his cue, he said the obvious thing.
“Jellybeans.”
“Exactly!” She gave him her 1000-watt smile. “A giant bowl filled with jellybeans. And not the cheap, 5-pounds-for-a-dollar kind. I’m talking *gourmet* jellybeans. With flavors like peanut butter, and marshmallow, and champagne.”
“Champagne-flavored jellybeans?” Angel said, a frown creasing his intense brow. He’d heard some pretty far-fetched things in his 250-plus years. Seen things the rational mind almost couldn’t believe. But champagne-flavored jellybeans were just…strange.
“These are the best,” Cordelia continued. She pointed at the glossy fashion magazine that lay open on her desk. The ad depicted a very posh, stylish party. On the table, next to a glass of white whine, and a tray with caviar and all the fixings, sat a silver bowl filled with jellybeans. “They’re the only kind Madonna will even *touch*.”
“I’m sure they are, Cordelia,” Angel said. He leaned against the wall and flipped open the file folder. “But I don’t think jellybeans would make much difference to our clients.”
“Spoken like someone who knows *nothing* about customer relations.” Cordelia stood and rounded her desk. “Angel, it’s the little touches that can make all the difference in a struggling business. What we need is…”
“To find out whether Sandra Bishop is being stalked or haunted,” Angel interrupted. “Where did you put the list of human suspects?”
There was a long, broody silence. Then Cordelia, never one to keep her frustrations bottled up for long, let out an exasperated breath.
“Fine!” she huffed. Taking a single sheet of paper from her desk—which, Angel admitted, seemed to get more neat and organized every week—she handed it to him. “But you should know that an employee whose suggestions are given serious consideration is a *happy* employee.”
With a decisive nod of her head, she retook her seat.
Angel felt a little bewildered as the reality of his situation closed in on him once again. Here he was, a vampire who could barely bring himself to interact with humans a year or two ago. And, now, he was a *boss*. With employees. An office. Business cards. Clients. Filing cabinets!
Doyle (thinking the name made him feel a twinge of sadness) once told him that, in order to truly help humans, he had to become more connected to humanity, to the world.
Well, for the first time in his long life, he was a taxpayer. You couldn’t get more connected than that.
Suddenly, the office door flew open. Wesley Wyndom-Pryce stumbled inside, staggering under the weight of a beaten old trunk.
“I’ve got it!” he gasped. With a grunt, he let the trunk crash to the floor.
“Got what?” Cordelia asked. She spared Wesley the barest of glances, then turned her attention back to her magazine.
The Englishman stood with his hands on his hips, obviously winded by his efforts. Then, he graced his co-workers with a smug, self-satisfied smile. “We are now the proud owners of a very rare copy of The Collected Writings of Stanley Avedon.” His eyes sparkled with excitement.
“Great!” Cordelia exclaimed. Sarcasm dripped—like too-sweet honey—from her chirpy tones. “Another dusty old book.”
The ex-Watcher looked personally insulted. “This isn’t just any *old* book.” His British accent was crisp and sharp. “Avedon was one of the 19th century’s foremost authorities on obscure magical rituals. His letters and essays were published in countless, well-respected scholarly periodicals. Copies of which can rarely be found today. To find a collection of *all* of Stanley Avedon’s writings in one book…” Wesley seemed too overwhelmed to speak.
Hands in his pockets, Angel approached the trunk. “Big book,” he said.
“Yes, well.” Chagrined, Wesley cleared his throat. “I found the book at an estate sale. To get it, I had to buy this trunk and all of its contents.”
“Sort of like a giant grab bag,” Cordelia quipped. As she approached the trunk, she shook her head from side to side. “Your negotiating skills must really *suck*.”
“I beg your pardon.” Wesley held himself so stiff, it looked like his spine might snap. He straightened his glasses in an almost haughty gesture. “I assure you, I got an excellent price.”
“Oh, please.” Cordelia put her hands on her hips. “Any halfway decent shopper knows you *never* buy more than you actually want. Believe me, if you’d pushed them a little, they’d have been *happy* to give you your precious book for a few bucks.”
Her piece spoken, Cordelia knelt down next to the trunk.
Wesley opened his mouth. No doubt to argue in his own defense.
“Look at this! It isn’t even a *good* trunk,” Cordelia continued as she lifted the lid. “See? The lock is broken.”
Wesley snapped his mouth shut and sighed in defeat.
“I’m sure the book is worth it,” Angel said.
“Oh, most definitely!” The mention of his find seemed to lift Wesley’s spirits. He plucked a huge, leather-bound book out of the trunk. “Avedon was a brilliant, dedicated man. He traveled the world, searching for, observing, and recording rituals that might have been completely lost to us otherwise. Not only does he describe those ceremonies in detail, he also wrote his thoughts and feelings on all of his experiences. I’m eager see what insights can be gleaned from his writings.” Book clutched to his chest, the ex-Watcher stared, with a wistful smile, into some far-off place.
“God, Wesley!” Cordelia rolled her eyes. “Do you know how *wrong* it is that you drool over *books* the way most guys drool over, oh, I don’t know, *girls*?”
Wesley didn’t dignify her question with a response. Instead, he pressed his lips into a thin line, and glared at the former cheerleader.
Angel was so amused, he almost smiled. Cordelia and Wesley were as different as night and day. One firmly rooted in fashion trends, and dreams of stardom. The other with his head in the clouds of academic discovery.
And they bickered like brother and sister. Which used to annoy the vampire. But, now, he found it comforting in an odd way. Familiar.
“Ow!” Cordelia exclaimed. She snatched her hand out of the trunk, and stuck her thumb in her mouth.
“What happened?” Angel asked, instantly alert.
“Oh, it’s no big.” She held out her hand for him to see. Before his eyes, a bead of blood formed on the tip of her thumb. “I poked my finger on the pointy end of that stupid knife.”
Wesley leaned in to look inside the trunk. “That’s a dagger,” he said as he picked up the offending object.
“Knife. Dagger. What’s the diff?” Cordelia shrugged and stuck her thumb back into her mouth. Then, she gave Angel an apologetic look. “Sorry.”
“For what?” Angel asked, puzzled.
“For this.” She wiggled her thumb in his face. “It must be like a guy who just gave up cigarettes, walking into a room where everyone’s chain smoking, huh?”
For a moment, Angel was still puzzled. Then, he remembered Cordelia sucking on her bloody thumb. “Oh, that.” He shook his head. “It’s no problem. I barely notice.”
“Yeah, right.” She gave him a look filled with skepticism. “I’ll go get a bandage.”
As Cordelia returned to her desk, Angel smiled. People responded to the fact that he was a vampire in different ways. Some were afraid, uneasy. Others were hostile. Still others pretended not to care. When the subject of his…condition came up, some acted embarrassed, like they had reminded him of some terrible thing he’d managed to forget.
As if he ever *could* forget.
But Cordelia’s reaction was, well, unique. She thought nothing of commenting on his liquid lunches, his aversion to sunlight, or his advanced age. Much like she once commented on Doyle’s poor fashion sense. Or Kate’s hard, Cop Lady attitude. Or David Nabbit’s general nerdiness. To her, his being a vampire was just…another thing.
It was kind of refreshing. Even if he couldn’t believe what came out of her mouth half of the time.
“Interesting,” Wesley murmured. He held the dagger up to the light. “Not very old. Tempered silver, I believe. The symbol for eternity carved into the hilt.”
“I’ll probably need a tetanus shot,” Cordelia snapped. She wrapped a Band-Aid (the clear kind which, according to her, weren’t the eye-sore the originals were) around her thumb.
Eyes narrowed, Angel studied the rest of the trunks contents. “How much did you, um, pay for all this?” he asked Wesley. And was he going to charge it to the company account?
“Hmmmm?” It took a moment for Wesley to pull himself away from his thoughts and focus on his employer. “Well, I only bought the trunk because of the book. Which will be a great help in our…”
Suddenly, a crash filled the room.
It was Cordelia. She’d fallen against the desk and knocked the telephone on the floor.
((Vision!)) Angel thought. He rushed to her side. Ready to catch her when the pain struck. To catch her when she fell.
But Cordelia wasn’t reacting the way she usually did to visions. She just stood there. Head down. Eyes closed. As still as a statue.
“Maybe she’s ill,” Wesley speculated. He stared at her the way he would an interesting artifact. “Or…”
“Cordelia,” Angel said, worried by her silence. He reached for her shoulder, ready to shake her out of…whatever this was.
Suddenly, Cordelia stood erect. Stepped away from his touch.
She opened her eyes.
“Oh, dear!” Wesley exclaimed.
Angel felt the same sense of disbelief.
Cordelia’s eyes had become two white orbs, devoid of color. Staring at nothing.
A mysterious breeze came from nowhere to tease her hair.
“Cordelia!” Worry morphing into alarm, Angel reached for her once again.
And his hands crashed into an invisible barrier. A wall that had sprung up, out of nowhere, between vampire and seer.
As Angel made contact with it, a small shock tickled his fingertips, pushed his hands away. Sparks of energy rippled away from where he had touched, skittering across the barrier.
“What the hell…” Angel began, a growl just beneath the surface. Gritting his teeth, he tried to reach Cordelia again. And met the same results.
“Good lord,” Wesley whispered. Eyes wide, mouth agape, he took a few steps forward.
Cordelia took a deep breath. That mysterious breeze, which touched nothing else in the office, whipped her hair around her head. Combined with her wide, colorless eyes, she reminded Angel of a Medusa statue.
“The challenge has been made,” she said. Her voice was deeper, bigger, than ever before. It echoed through the room, bounced off the walls. Became two voices. Then three. Then four.
“Who are you?” Angel demanded, knowing the signs of possession all too well.
“The challenge has been answered,” Cordelia—or whatever was inside her—continued. “Prepare for the middle hour, when the veil is at its weakest. The Keertost will judge.”
Abruptly, the strange wind vanished.
Cordelia’s legs collapsed.
Again, Angel reached for her, the barrier forgotten. He just wanted to catch her before she hit the ground.
This time, there was no obstacle standing in his way.
Cordelia gasped for air as she clung to the vampire’s shoulders.
“Oh, my…Cordelia!” Frantic now that the danger had passed, Wesley hurried towards them. “Are you alright?”
Cordelia didn’t answer him. Instead, she looked up at Angel. Her eyes—hazel once again—were filled with fear. Panic.
“What the hell happened?” she whispered.
No one had an answer.
Part 2
Angel sat at his desk, steepled fingers pressed to his chin. His eyes tracked Cordelia as she paced from one end of his private office to the other.
Back and forth.
Back and forth.
He felt like a spectator at a tennis match.
“Why can’t we have just *one* normal day around here?” Cordelia demanded. When she reached the dead-end that was the office wall, she executed a sharp turn. “Most women get to complain about standing for eight hours in uncomfortable shoes. Or being sexually harassed by randy male co-workers. But what happens when *I* come to work? I get possessed!”
“Calm down, Cordelia,” Angel said, eyes still following her. “We don’t know that you were possessed.” Not the most inspired of reassurances, true. But, at the moment, it was the best he had.
Cordelia paused. Hands on her hips, she gave him a scornful glare. “Oh, please! According to you, I looked like Little Orphan Annie. I remember saying stuff my brain didn’t give my mouth permission to say. I was speaking in *tongues* for God’s sake. And you don’t call *that* possessed?”
“You weren’t speaking in tongues.” Angel was still trying to sound reassuring. “You said one word we couldn’t understood.”
“Hmmph,” Cordelia snorted, and started to pace again.
“Do you feel anything…strange now?” Angel asked.
“No,” Cordelia said. Then, she threw up her hands. “But I didn’t feel anything strange *before* either!”
Back and forth she paced. Back and forth…
Angel could understand her agitation. It was one thing to stare down a vampire or demon. Or even to have a vision in which you experience the physical and emotional pain of total strangers. But being invaded by some alien presence could be damned unnerving.
And he could relate. Even now, as he tried to atone for his bloody past, there was demon crouched down inside of him, waiting to break free and wreak havoc. A demon that caused him to do things some said he wasn’t truly responsible for. But the guilt, the memories, were still there.
He could feel his demon pretty strongly at the moment. Because there were four things he could count on to get its attention. Anger, violence, sexual arousal…and frustration of any kind.
The fact that Cordelia had been invaded was bad enough. The fact that he hadn’t been able to do anything to help her…
He had to clench his teeth to suppress an angry growl. Hearing her friend and employer snarling like a wild animal probably wouldn’t help ease Cordelia’s anxiety.
“Eureka!” came the exultant cry from the outer office.
Cordelia stopped in her tracks. Eyes narrowed in disbelief, she turned to Angel. “Did he really just say that?”
Unable to believe it himself, Angel shrugged.
Seconds later, Wesley swept into the room, one of his precious books crushed to his chest. A grin stretched from one ear to the other. “I know what happened to Cordelia!” he exclaimed.
“What?!” Cordelia demanded, almost pouncing on the Englishmen. “What happened to Cordelia?”
Angel rose from his seat and rounded the desk. “What did you find?” Arms folded, he sat on the edge of his desk.
“I must admit it wasn’t easy,” Wesley began. He smirked with smug pride. “I deduced that the most logical way to solve this puzzle was to focus on the one word Cordelia spoke that I couldn’t translate. Keertost. Unfortunately, I could find no references to said word in any of the books we have here. So, then, I asked myself, was what happened to Cordelia a spontaneous occurrence? Or did something happen to precipitate this fascinating event? With that in mind, I…”
“Wesley!” Cordelia interrupted. She clenched and unclenched her fists inches away from his shirt collar. Like she couldn’t decide whether to choke him or strangle him. “Get to the point!”
Wesley looked disappointed. There was nothing he liked better than explaining…well, just about anything.
“Very well,” he said, spine straightening with injured pride. “I recalled that, just before her *episode*, Cordelia poked her finger on that dagger. One that looks very much like ritualistic daggers used in various magical ceremonies. And since the dagger was in the trunk with…”
“Hey!” Cordelia interrupted, losing patience. The young brunette snapped the fingers of both hands in Wesley’s face—repeatedly—causing the man to take a startled step back. “Sometime today!”
Angel decided to step in. “Since the dagger was in the trunk with a book about obscure magical rituals, Wesley decided to look in the book for answers.”
Cordelia shook her head. “Why didn’t he just *say* that?”
Thunder stolen, Wesley simply sighed. “Yes, quite. There is a chapter in The Collected Writings of Stanley Avedon about the Keertost. A sect of demons that live in one of your more austere demon dimensions.”
“Great,” Cordelia sighed. “So much for hoping I was possessed by some harmless spirit. Some misty, sparkly creature that was interested in my sharp wit and keen fashion sense.”
“Well, the Keertost are neither ‘misty’ nor ‘sparkly’.” Wesley shook his head at the very idea. “Actually, according to Avedon, no-one’s ever gotten a look at one of the creatures. What is known is that they are fascinated by our dimension…but unable to survive here…unless they inhabit a human host.”
“Why don’t I like the sound of that?” Cordelia said. She stumbled over to the desk and sat down next to Angel.
“Is that what happened?” Angel demanded, certain he didn’t like the sound of this either. “Cordelia was inhabited by one of these Keertost?”
“Oh, no, no, no!” Wesley rushed to assure them. “That was just their way of accepting the challenge. You see, a Keertost must be invited into a host. Which happens more often than you would think. A Keertost’s human host gets something in the bargain. They live for about a hundred years beyond a human’s normal life span. The aging process is halted. They remain free of disease, heal quickly when injured. And they maintain complete control over their own bodies and minds. With the Keertost tagging along as a…a sightseer of sorts.”
Wesley turned a page in the book, but didn’t bother to look at it. “Now, you would think the Keertost would be happy to take any human host they can get. But these demons, it seems, are quite picky. They will only inhabit humans they deem worthy. Hence, the challenge. In order to prove their worthiness, a challenger must fight and defeat one of the sect’s demon slaves.” He gave Angel and Cordelia a grave look. “To the death.”
Angel’s lips pressed into a grim line. His mind worked feverishly, the pieces of the puzzle started to fall into place. And he didn’t like the picture that was forming.
While Cordelia…
Well, Angel knew how sharp she was. Sharper than a lot of people gave her credit for. But he’d noticed that, when she didn’t *want* to know something—didn’t want to deal with it--she could take ‘oblivious’ to a whole new level.
“This is all very interesting,” Cordelia said. With a lack of enthusiasm that said she meant the opposite. “What does that have to do with me?”
Which proved Angel’s point.
“Well, in order to issue a challenge to the Keertost, a challenger must perform an arduous, 16 hour ritual. At the end, they must draw their own blood with the dagger, then wait for the Keertost to accept or decline. They always accept, by the way.”
“Someone started the ritual,” Angel said. A fact, not a question.
“I bought the trunk from the estate of George Billings. A man who was very sick for a very long time. I believe that, in a bid to beat his illness and prolong his own life, he decided to offer himself as a host to the Keertost. He must have performed the entire ritual. But, when it came time to draw his own blood with the dagger…”
“He balked,” Angel concluded. “Leaving the ritual unfinished. Until Cordelia poked her finger on the dagger.”
Turning towards the brunette, Angel saw her eyes widen with disbelief. Now she was starting to get it.
Frowning, Wesley paged through the book. “Considering how little blood she drew, I’m surprised the sect accepted her challenge.”
“Challenge?!” Cordelia exclaimed as she jumped to her feet. “What challenge? *I* didn’t make a challenge! Oh my God!” Her hands waved frantically. “Does this mean I have to fight? Fight a *demon*?!”
“A warrior demon,” Wesley offered helpfully.
Cordelia whimpered, becoming nearly as pale as Angel. She swayed from side to side.
Giving Wesley a quailing look, Angel stood up.
“Cordelia.” Although he wasn’t all that used to initiating physical contact—that was Cordelia’s department—he grabbed the girl by the shoulders. “Calm down. Whatever happens, we’ll handle it. I’ll handle it.”
“A *demon*, Angel.” Her voice shook with panic. Suddenly, she grabbed the front of his shirt. “I…can…*not*…fight…a…demon!”
“Cordy!” Angel gave her a little shake. Neither one of them noticed how he’d shortened her name. “I’ll *handle* it.”
His chocolate brown eyes drilled into her hazel ones, ordering her to trust him.
After a moment, Cordelia took a deep breath and nodded.
Satisfied for the moment that she wasn’t about to fall apart, Angel pried Cordelia’s tightly clenched fists away from his shirt. Settling her into a chair, he turned towards Wesley. “We have to find a way to…cancel the challenge somehow.”
“Before the middle hour,” Wesley said ominously. “Midnight.”
Angel glanced at the clock.
They had three hours.
____________________
The next few hours were spent frantically searching for a solution to their problem. Cordelia hit the ‘Net. Angel and Wesley hit the books.
As Angel paged through an old, dusty tome, a worried frown creased his brow. Cordelia was right. She *couldn’t* fight a demon. To date, her fighting experience amounted to sneaking up behind a demon and braining it with a metal pipe. Or sneaking up behind a vampire and staking it. Angel had never once seen her use a legitimate fighting move. Not a punch. Not a kick. Not even a well-placed slap.
He just had to make sure that, when this challenge started, she was out of the way. He was confident he could keep her safe until he defeated the Keertost’s demon warrior.
“What’s this?” Wesley said, breaking the silence.
“You got something?” Angel asked, going to stand next to him.
“I don’t know.” The ex-Watcher flipped through the pages of The Collected Writings of Stanley Avedon. “This entire section has been highlighted. By George Billings, I assume.” Squinting at the fine print, he held the book closer to the lamp light. “An infusion ritual.”
“Infusion ritual?”
“Yes. Used to temporarily…infuse one with borrowed knowledge,” he read. He looked thoughtful. “I wonder…”
“Oh, my back,” Cordelia moaned. Standing, she stretched and stumbled away from her desk. “If I don’t take a…”
Suddenly, the light flickered.
Angel looked at the clock. “Midnight,” he said. The three hours had gone by too fast.
“No!” Cordelia gasped. “Oh, God!”
Suddenly, a whiff of fog appeared at Cordelia’s feet. Like a snake, it began to coil around ankles.
“Angel!” she cried, her horror plain for him to see.
Remembering what had happened earlier, Angel rushed to her side. The vampire grabbed her right arm. And was surprised to find no barrier standing in his way.
It seemed Wesley had the same thoughts. In an instant, he was on Cordelia’s other side, grabbing her left arm.
“Angel?” Cordelia’s voice trembled as badly as her body shook. The mist climbed up her calves. Her thighs. “What…”
“I’ve got you,” Angel promised, his grip on her right arm tightening.
With a roar, the fog reared up, crashing over the three like a wave.
And, suddenly, the offices of Angel Investigations were empty.
Part 3
One moment, they were in the offices of Angel Investigations. The next, they were…
Somewhere else.
Releasing his hold on Cordelia, Angel studied his surroundings.
It was a cold, featureless pace, without a single, distinguishing feature. The, hard, gray ground stretched into endless darkness. There was no obvious light source, so it should have been as black as pitch. But everything glowed hazy-bright.
“Fascinating,” Wesley said, looking around with interest.
“Where are we?” Cordelia demanded. “The land of really bad lighting?”
“I’d guess this is a place between realities,” Wesley said. “Between the Keertost’s dimension and our own. Think of it as…nowhere.”
“Oh. Perfect.”
Angel turned in a slow circle, alert. Ready for danger no matter what direction it came from.
It came from everywhere.
A dozen figures materialized out of the darkness, surrounded the trio. They wore black, hooded robes that hid their faces. But red eyes glowed from the shadows of their hoods.
Angel and Wesley moved to flank Cordelia, placing her squarely between them.
“It is the middle hour,” a dozen voices spoke in unison. Male and female, echoing through the darkness. Cold and emotionless. “The challenger has arrived.”
“I’m not your challenger!” Cordelia exclaimed. “I didn’t even *do* your stupid ritual! I just…stumbled onto it!”
They gave no sign that they even heard her.
“The challenger will be judged,” they continued.
“I’ll do it,” Angel said. “I’ll fight in her place.” Of course, he was going to fight their warrior no matter what. But, if they agreed to let him take Cordelia’s place, things would be so much…
Suddenly, the Keertost began to chant in some strange, demonic tongue. The words ran together into a deep, teeth numbing hum.
Angel felt a sudden pressure against his chest. It was like an invisible hand, pushing him away from Cordelia.
“What the hell!” He tried, in vain, to resist the unseen force.
“Oh, dear!” Wesley exclaimed as stumbled backwards. He obviously felt the same invisible hand.
“Angel!” Cordelia cried. Her eyes widened with panic as her two protectors were ripped away from her. “Wesley!”
The invisible force kept pushing until Angel and Wesley stood shoulder to shoulder with the circle of demons.
Fists clenched with determination, Angel tried to move forward. And growled with frustration when he was pushed back.
“Well,” Wesley said, nonplussed. “They obviously want us to stay…here.”
“Dammit!” Angel snarled. Unable to hide his anger—this close to morphing into vamp face—he looked towards Cordelia.
The naked terror on her face made his unbeating heart sink.
____________________
Stuck in a place in serious need of an interior decorator. Surrounded by demons. Her closest friends tossed around like puppets.
((Oh, I’m having a great time,)) Cordelia thought.
Her limbs trembled. Her heart was about to pound its way out of her chest. And she couldn’t get enough air…despite the quick, shallow breath she took every second.
Cordelia looked over at her friends.
She pretty much expected the look of deep concern Wesley wore. Saying he was worried was like saying Cordelia wanted to be famous. Too obvious to mention.
And Angel…
Angel was the original stone face, impossible to read most of the time. But, right now, he looked so angry. So…at a loss.
Cordelia’s heart pounded a little harder.
Looking around at the circle of demons, red eyes peering out from the shadows of their hoods, she wondered what the hell she was supposed to do now. Because it was obvious Angel and Wesley couldn’t save her this time.
“Challenger,” one Keertost said, making Cordelia jump. The other demons continued to hum. “Your opponent.”
Two of the demons in the circle parted. And Cordelia’s opponent stepped into the circle.
The demon was female…and almost looked human. Well, accept for the grayish skin. And the lack of eyebrows. There were ridges across the ridge of her nose, and her hair looked like it was made of black feathers. She wore a muddy green cat suit. It had scales, sort of like alligator skin. And, when she moved, it sparkled in the light.
Cordelia supposed some boy demon would find her very attractive.
“Oh, my,” Wesley breathed, eyeing the opponent’s body with a great deal of interest.
When his co-workers turned to stare at him, he ducked his head in chagrin.
A nasty smile on her exotically beautiful face, Demon Debbie started towards Cordelia.
With a gulp, Cordelia thought about running for her life. It seemed like the sensible thing to do. But two things stopped her.
First of all, she was kind of paralyzed with the fear. She felt pretty strange, really. So petrified she appeared calm on the outside. But with a soft, gooey center of panic on the inside.
Secondly, if these Keertost guys could make Angel and Wesley go where they didn’t want to, she figured they could make her *stay* where *she* didn’t want to.
So, instead, she tried to think of all the dangerous situations she’d escaped in the past. The times she’d bluffed her way out of being brutally murdered.
So, as the demon-babe approached, Cordelia gave it a shot.
“Look,” she began. She held up her hands. “I don’t care anything about this challenge thing. And I am so *not* going to fight…”
That’s when the Keertost’s warrior attacked.
The demoness hit Cordelia with a right cross, causing her head to wrench to violently to one side. Stunned, Cordelia righted herself…only to face a fierce left cross. Another right cross turned her completely around, and knocked her off her feet.
____________________
When the demon attacked Cordelia, Angel attacked the barrier.
Morphing into vamp face, he bashed against the invisible wall that held him and Wesley in place. But his efforts had no effect.
Growling low in his throat, he looked towards the nearest Keertost. Maybe if he killed a few of them, broke the constant chant that filled the room…
But he found that he couldn’t move in *that* direction, either.
“Oh, God,” Wesley whispered next to him. “She’s not going to make it.”
Snarling—his lethal fangs on full display—Angel had to fight the urge to strike out at the ex-Watcher. Because, whether the vampire wanted to hear it or not, the man was right.
____________________
In shock, Cordelia looked at the floor, which was only inches from her nose.
Lying there, mind scattered, face throbbing, she suddenly felt…something. She didn’t know how to describe it. Like a tickle in her mind. An itch in her brain. Whatever it was, it pushed the darkness, which hovered at the edges of her vision, away.
Shaking her head to clear her muddled thoughts, Cordelia pushed up into a half-sitting position. As she did, she realized her lip was throbbing.
With a feeling of dread, she put her fingers to her mouth. And was horrified when they came away covered in blood.
Suddenly furious, Cordelia whipped around to look at the demon that was striding towards her.
“Not the face!” she exclaimed…and slammed her foot into her opponents abdomen.
As the demon-babe doubled over, Cordelia kicked her again, in the same spot. Then, she shoved her heel into the creature’s nose.
Demon Babe hit the floor with a thud.
Eyes wide with shock, Cordelia staggered to her feet.
____________________
Stunned, Wesley and Angel looked on.
Reverting to his human visage, Angel shook his head. How did she do that? He knew what Cordelia could do, and she couldn’t do *that*!
From the look on her face, Cordelia was wondering the same thing.
“Of course!” Wesley exclaimed. Looking excited for some reason, he called, “Cordelia! You can fight her!”
“I can?” the brunette asked, voice filled with doubt.
“She can?” Angel asked, looking at the ex-Watcher like he’d gone insane.
“Yes!” Wesley insisted. “Don’t you see? It’s the infusion ritual George Billings highlighted in the book. He must have found some way to combine it with the challenge ritual. To infuse himself with the knowledge he’d need to fight the Keertost’s warrior demon!”
Before Angel could give the matter some thought, the demon came up hissing.
____________________
Hellspawn Harriet swung at Cordelia.
Instinctively, Cordelia threw up a startled block. But she couldn’t stop the right jab that connected with her nose.
Rocking back on her heels, she managed to block another blow. But couldn’t stop the fist that planted itself in her solar plexus.
Air fleeing from her lungs, Cordelia doubled over, clutching her abused stomach. She was about to get her ass truly and royally kicked! And, since this was a fight to the death, that wasn’t good.
“Cordelia!” Wesley called from the sidelines. “You *can* fight her! Use your instincts!”
((*What* instincts?!)) Cordelia wanted to demand. But it was hard to talk when you couldn’t breathe.
____________________
Angel’s worried eyes watched the demon stalk towards Cordelia.
He was beginning to understand what Wesley meant about the infusion ritual. George Billings tried to use it to borrow the fighting knowledge he’d need to survive the challenge.
But having the knowledge and using it were two different things. You couldn’t read a driver’s manual one day, and expect to tackle a busy highway the first time you got behind the wheel. For that, you needed practice.
The kind of practice Cordelia didn’t have.
____________________
As Cordelia tried to catch her breath, her mind flashed on the smooth moves she put on Demon Babe a few moments ago. It hadn’t been something she planned to do. It just happened. By instinct.
There was obviously some magically reason for that. Because she couldn’t fight to save her life…which had been proven many times.
She just had to find a way to use whatever it was she had.
Back in Sunnydale, she was a cheerleader. The best on the squad. Once she learned a routine, she didn’t have to think about it anymore. The movements, no matter how complex, just came naturally to her.
Forcing herself to stand erect, Cordelia recalled the inspirational words of her cheerleading coach.
Let it flow.
Demon Babe swung with her right.
“Ha!” Cordelia yelled, grabbing the thing’s forearm. She delivered a stinging right cross to her opponent’s face. Twirling like a dancer, so that she ended with her back to the demon, she drove her left elbow into Demon Babe’s ribs. Then, she drove the same elbow into the underside of her opponent’s chin.
Demon Babe flew up and back.
She had amazing hand time.
____________________
“Yes!” Wesley whispered, pumping his fist.
Only Angel’s innate reserve kept him from doing the same.
_____________________
The female demon jumped to her feet and lunged at Cordelia. The two met in a flurry of punches and counter punches. They blocked and ducked and twirled. And, while the moves seemed a little uncertain on Cordelia’s part, she managed to hold her own with a strange, clumsy grace.
Suddenly, the warrior kicked Cordelia in the stomach. As the brunette doubled over, her opponent left her feet. As she ascended, her foot slammed into Cordelia’s chin. Then, she did a back flip and landed on her feet.
With a pain-filled cry, Cordelia rocked back on her heels. But, somehow, she managed to stay on her feet.
Pissed beyond words, she reached for the demon’s hair. In her mind, she envisioned a hellacious catfight. One that involved hair pulling, biting, and scratching.
But her body had other ideas. Pulling her opponent’s head down, she kicked her in the stomach…twice. As the demon doubled over, Cordelia jumped up. Using her opponent’s knee like a step, for leverage, she ascended. Her foot slammed into the demon’s chin, repaying the favor.
Cordelia did a fine back flip of her own. And, as she came down, she slammed her foot into her opponent’s face.
As the demon flew backward, Cordelia landed lightly on her feet.
“Remarkable,” Wesley praised from the sidelines.
“Two years of gymnastics!” Cordelia crowed, feeling pleased with herself.
Then, before she could celebrate properly, the Keertost added another element to the equation.
A glittery mist appeared between her and the demon. And the mist coalesced into two swords.
____________________
“Oh, dear,” Wesley said.
“Dammit!” Angel swore. He’d just been starting to enjoy watching Cordelia kick the demon’s ass. But, now, he was forced to remember this was a fight to the death.
____________________
“Uh-oh,” Cordelia muttered.
The swords hung suspended for a few seconds before dropping like stones.
The demon neatly caught hers.
Cordelia’s hit the ground with a clatter.
Seeing a demon with a smug grin stretched across it’s face was *not* a heart-warming experience.
Dropping to her knees, Cordelia snatched up the sword. She held it over her head in time to deflect a teeth-jarring sword blow from Demon Donna.
Cordelia scampered to her feet. She tried not to think of her sword as a sword, exactly. More like the baton she learned to twirl when she was eight.
The swords met with a clang, again and again. Cordelia was on the defensive, staggering backwards as she tried to block the demon’s furious thrusts. In minutes, her arms were so tired, they started to go numb.
Finally, Cordelia tried to strike a blow of her own. The demon’s block was so powerful, it wrenched the sword out of her hands. The weapon flew over her head, landing behind her.
Pressing its advantage, Demon Babe swung for Cordelia’s neck.
Acting on those instincts again, Cordelia did a backwards handspring, feeling the sword’s tip whistle past her body. Spinning, she ran for her sword…and tripped!
Cordelia landed on all fours, and could hear the demon pounding up behind her. With few options, she threw her leg back in a mule kick.
It slowed Demon Babe down, but didn’t *knock* her down.
Cordelia grabbed her sword, throwing it up in time to deflect another arm-jarring blow.
Heart sinking, Cordelia realized this sword-fighting stuff was beyond her. She couldn’t win. Not unless she ended this thing pretty quickly.
Suddenly, she had a flash of inspiration.
With a desperate cry, she pushed up with her sword, throwing off Demon Babe’s. She could sense the demon stumble as it was thrown off balance.
Cordelia jumped to her feet. Already, she could feel the creature’s sword aiming for her head.
With a flourish, Cordelia twirled her own sword. Then, both hands on the hilt, she thrust it back.
The blade entered Demon Donna like a knife sliding into butter.
The demon gasped in pained surprise, its own sword falling to the floor. She fell, a heavy weight, against Cordelia’s back.
There was a sickening, slurping sound as Cordelia pulled her sword free. And the demon dropped to her knees.
Cordelia turned around, sickened by what she saw.
Blood gushing from its mouth, the lifeless body of the Keertost’s warrior fell to the floor.
____________________
The minute Cordelia won the challenge, the Keertost’s chanting stopped. The barrier disappeared.
Angel hurried to her side, Wesley close on his heels.
“I did it,” Cordelia whispered. She looked.
“You certainly did!” Wesley said, grinning like a schoolboy.
Cordelia hardly seemed flattered by the praise. In fact, she looked kind of ill.
“Nice moves,” Angel said. And he placed a hand on her shoulder.
Cordelia stared at him for one long moment. Then, with a hard swallow, she nodded.
“You have won the challenge,” the circle of demons said, in unison. “You may become a host for the Keertost.”
Cordelia grimaced. “Um, thanks.” She tossed the sword—covered in grayish-green blood—on the ground. “But no thanks.”
“You refuse?” They sounded surprised.
“Uh, *yeah*,” Cordelia said, as if it should be obvious even to them. “I didn’t make the stupid challenge in the first place. And I sure don’t want to live the rest of my life with a demon tagging along inside me.”
As one, the circle of demons took a step forward. “You won the challenge,” they insisted.
“Yes, she did win.” Angel, ready for things to get ugly, took up a defensive stance. “It’s up to her whether or not she accepts the prize.”
“And you can’t *force* her to become a host,” Wesley added. “She must be willing.”
The Keertost considered this in silence.
“Very well,” they grudgingly agreed.
Suddenly, there was a flash of light. And, quick as the blink of an eye, Angel, Cordelia, and Wesley were back at the office.
The three of them were for silent for a long time, staring at each other as they tried to regain their bearings.
Suddenly, Cordelia grinned from ear to ear. “Did you see me?” she exclaimed. “I kicked butt!”
“Most definitely,” Wesley agreed.
“You did good,” Angel said. He allowed himself a small smile.
“You used the knowledge quite effectively,” Wesley continued. He went to retrieve his precious book. “Too bad it will fade in a few hours. According to Stanley Avedon, the effects of infusion rituals don’t last long.”
“Oh,” Cordelia sighed, shoulders sagging with disappointment. Then, she shrugged. “Well, it really doesn’t matter. I mean, I’m an actress, not a fighter.”
Angel shook his head. Amazed, as always, by her resilience.
“And *you*!” she exclaimed, turning towards Wesley.
Startled, the Englishman stared at her. “I beg your pardon.”
Hands on her hips, Cordelia glared at him. “The next time you go on a shopping spree, don’t do it at Black Magic Bargain-O-Rama!”
End.
More Author's Notes: My cousin read parts one and two of this story, and rightly guessed that Angel was going to save Cordelia from the Keertost’s challenge. (Hey, I think it’s sweet when Angel saves Cordy.)
Anyway, cous challenged me to
1. Have Cordelia fight the challenge herself.
2. Take Wesley and Angel out of the picture, so they couldn’t really help her.
3. Have the fight last for more than a page or two.
I have never changed a story to suit someone else’s wants before. But I decided I *wanted* to write a Cordy fight.
In order to make the challenge work, I had to come up with a reason why Cordelia is suddenly able to fight a demon on her own. So, I went back and added a few things to the last scene of part 2.
I hope I pulled it off.