Title: Auspices (Prologue + Part 1/?)
Author: Helen
Posted: 16/04/05
Email: helen_taft@msn.com
Rating: PG-15 these parts. Overall a definite NC-17
Pairing: C/A
Summary & notes: AU S4 from scratch. No C/C and Cordelia didn’t ascend. The FG search for Angel after he went missing. The problem is they find him.
Feedback: Yup, feeding is good. Also, feel free to include criticism, too, if you feel the urge, so long as it’s constructive.
Posted: AO + ST
Notes: I wasn’t going to post this yet as I wasn’t quite happy with it, but since fiddling rarely works I decided what the hell, it’s sat in my docs for a few days already. I know I have more than a few WIP’s, but Riddle 3 is done. I’ll finish Part 4 and post the two together.
Most importantly, huge smoochey thanks to Susi (SpikesSire) for the fabulous fic-pic.Prologue
Her hair had grown out in the months since Angel had been tossed into a watery grave by Conner, his son. Staring back at the solemn reflection in the mirror, Cordelia watched impassively as the brush rose and fell in an ordered, controlled rhythm; the tan bristles sifting through shoulder-length mahogany stands.
The taut slope of her cheeks, firmed full lips and stark eyes spoke volumes about the changes in her life. She was no longer the sun-goddess or wanna-be starlet and mourned neither. She was Cordelia Chase of Angel Investigation and they helped the helpless, particularly when the helpless was one of their own.
Then as usual her thoughts turned to Angel. He’d never said, but she knew he preferred her hair its natural dark brown rather than the blond she’d impulsively dyed it. In the mirror her lips twisted and a film blurred her vision from remembering all the times she’d scoffed at him for having a thing for blondes.
She just hoped he knew they wouldn’t give up on him; wouldn’t leave him to suffer alone in the dark. He’d had enough of that already.
The hand holding the brush trembled on its downward swipe. Angel’s suffering was all her fault. The hand stilled and a mask of pain dropped over pale features. Inside the ever-present pressure of guilt tightened another notch. She’d pulled him away from the safety of the hotel and then not turned up until it was too late. Telling herself she’d tried her best didn’t lessen the suffocating remorse.
Going over and over that night didn’t change a thing either. But neither did it stop her from analysing every second. Maybe if Skip hadn’t turned up; delaying her with his talk about ascending to be one of the PTB’s, she would have got there in time and stopped Conner. Who knows and what did it matter when he had. Maybe she would have gone, too, if it hadn’t been for the vision knocking her sideways with images of Angel being sealed inside a metal tomb, and then sunk into cold green water.
The vision had felt different; more like the old style rather than the post-demon kind, but she hadn’t cared about the shooting pains crackling across her skull. After that Skip hadn’t had a chance of persuading her to leave. Racing towards the beach she’d got there to find it dark, empty and deserted. Rushing over the cold dunes and towards the washing white-frothed waves, she’d screamed his name, but there was no sign of Angel anywhere. She could still remember the burn in her throat from yelling his name over and over.
In the mirror Fred’s face peeked around the door. “Wes rang to say he’s been delayed and we should meet him there.”
Doe brown eyes worriedly scanned the taut, strained face of her friend. Cordelia had lost weight during that first awful month, until she forcefully pulled herself together and started eating properly again. Now she was back to full strength and even more hauntingly beautiful.
“I’m ready,” said Cordelia and turned away from the mirror. The days of lingering to check she looked picture perfect were long gone. The extra responsibility of leading their fragmented team had finished what working the mission had only started. Angel, seeking his own redemption, had unknowingly started her on this path and she was damned if he wasn’t going to reach the end of it with her.
Dressed warmly for searching the coast in a creaking old boat, she swept past the younger girl on her way to the old hotels counter, and said, “Let’s go,” to a restless Charles Gunn who instantly joined her in making a beeline for the front entrance. With Angel missing and Wes still in semi seclusion it had been up to Cordelia to step into both of their shoes.
Ever since that night she, Fred, Gunn and even Wes had spent every spare moment searching the coast in a battered old boat one of Wesley’s contacts had located for them. They’d been grateful for his help. Sixteen weeks and two days later though and they still hadn’t found him.
~
“Lift it, lift…easy. Stop!” Yelled Wesley reaching up on his toes to grip the edges of the dripping man-sized metal box as it swung dangerously over their heads.
They all held their breath and the winches clanked as Gunn yanked the lever to stop the motor. Dotted around the weathered deck of the old fishing boat, the three of them where held in the grip of a tension so sharp they trembled with it. They’d found Angel, or at least, his prison. Whether any semblance of Angel remained was what they had to find out.
Out of Cordelia’s hearing and tucked away in their room Fred and Gunn had whispered about the effects on a vampire of being caged underwater. Those debates came back to haunt them now.
The salty wind chaffed at the skin of her exposed face and Cordelia barely noticed. She’d dreamed and prayed for this moment for what seemed an age. Now, she couldn’t get enough spit in her mouth to speak, and avoided looking at the others in case their faces mirrored her own dread mingled with painful hope. Eyes glued to the metal coffin she refused to guess what they’d find inside.
They’d found him hadn’t they? He was going to be okay, she had to believe that.
Needing a distraction, she climbed on a stack of wooden boxes and rested clammy hands on the freezing sides. Raising her voice to be heard, it held a tellingly croak, “Its okay, I’ve got it steadied now. You can lower it down, Gunn.”
When it was finally lowered safely to the deck Wesley went to fetch the blowtorch, leaving the others to crouch and stare into the fogged glass. Hope and trepidation was replaced by impatience and bitter disappointment. Roughly, Cordelia wiped a hand over the thick pane, but it remained obscured. After the monumental build-up, beginning when the metal detector had first begun pinging itself into oblivion, it was too much and she felt like screaming.
Frustration roiled and uselessly she thumped a clenched fist on it, doing nothing except hurting herself in the process. After the months he’d spent locked inside a few more minutes shouldn’t have mattered, but it did. Common sense held little sway over her just then.
Ignoring the protesting throb in her hand, she bit out, “Damn it, we need to get this thing off, now.”
Sharing a look at the obvious agitation with the large figure hunkered down beside her, Fred brushed a soothing hand down Cordelia’s jacketed arm and wisely said nothing. Charles Gunn, dressed in his usual camouflage pants and baggy shirt, bent down further to peer at the welded edges, saying, “We will, just give Wes a few minutes and then Angel’s as free as a bird.”
~
Blinding in the pitch black of night, sizzling sparks flew in all direction for what seemed an eternity before Wesley sat back and pulled back the goggles. He didn’t have to ask for help in lifting the lid. As soon as he was done the rest of the gang surged forward and silently taking a corner each they prised the heavy metal lid up. It gave with a protesting creak and slid to the deck with a crash.
There was a second of stunned silence.
“Oh Lord,” whispered Fred and swallowed a painful lump, unable to say more.
“Told ya, you should have let me whip that kid,” growled Gunn, turning his head and swallowing back bile.
Cordelia was dealing with her own up-rush of acid. Her mouth wobbled and stretched in a spasm of grief while tears stung, competing with the salty spray of the ocean. Reaching in she lay a hand against the achingly familiar leather duster and welcomed the blur that distorted his face. “I can hardly recognise him,” she said hoarsely. “If it wasn’t for the hair…”
“And the clothes,” interjected Fred trying to be helpful. “We know it’s him because of the clothes.”
Always pale, the flesh they could see was grey, dry and had shrunk so much it clung to cheekbones, jaw and brow. The face inside the dark casket was a mere caricature of the normally darkly handsome one, and while the powerful frame they were used to following into battle was still there; it didn’t take a genius to guess the flesh would be similarly wasted.
Wesley hadn’t expected to be so affected. Unlike the others he hadn’t flinched from making some educated guesses and yet now, despite their dangerous differences, he was appalled. It was a struggle to sound impassive. “There’s no doubt who he is and there was bound to be damage. We knew that.”
Gunn took exception to the tone, “Maybe, but there’s losing a little weight and then there’s-“
“Shusssh,” thumping his arm, Fred glared at her lover aghast, and rolled a pointed look towards a frozen Cordelia.
She needn’t have bothered and Gunn’s sheepish grimace went unnoticed, too. Kneeling beside the containers top to be closest to Angel’s head, Cordelia wanted to shake him awake so badly it hurt. She didn’t though because even in the darkness barely touched by the boats lights she could see that wasn’t going to be any good trying.
Something was choking her and it took a few gulps to swallow back the prickly ball of anguish. She hated seeing him look so…fragile. Sitting there numb, she wondered what was going on inside his head.
What must he have been thinking knowing his own son hated him so much? When had he given up on being rescued? When had it all become so much he’d let himself sink into an even deeper darkness with only his demon for company.
Gradually the silence, broken only by the lapping of the water against the boats hull, drew Cordy back from the dark well of her imagination. Looking up she saw the guys were looking at her. Their sympathy threatened her control and that she would not have. Forcing her legs to straighten from their crouch she said, “We’re wasting time. Wesley, can you take us back? We need to get Angel home, pronto.”
~
Gunn’s truck was a blessing in getting Angel back to the hotel. Using the makeshift stretcher they’d scrounged from the boat and between the four of them they managed to navigate the stairs and get him up into his room. There they transferred him onto the freshly made bed. Worryingly, he didn’t stir the whole time, not even when they undressed him down to his pants.
“Its great to have him home isn’t it? Sweaty with exertion and with her braid coming loose, Fred said what they were all thinking. “I just wish he’d wake up. He will won’t he?” she asked Wes with a quaver in her voice.
Cordelia was doing great as boss and Fred wished she had just a fraction of her strength, but she still felt vulnerable without Angel. Charles was strong and fast but he was still human and mortal. They all pitched in, but without Angel the tide was turning against them. All the buts where driving Fred back to crazydom and keeping her worries to herself was giving her a craving for permanent markers and blank walls.
“Well, it ain’t as if we can check to see if he’s still in the land of the living?” intoned Gunn as he ran a hand over his smooth scalp. Damn, he hated this. Give him a demon to kick ass and he was in his element, give him a victim to track down and he was Inspector Poirot. Thankfully only Fred knew he was an avid Agatha Christie fan. But sickness and grief scared the crap out of him.
Stretching his back from the weight, Wesley kept his expression neutral. Bitterness was long past when it came to these three. He wanted his reckoning to be with Angel, and a compus mentis one at that. Redemption was tricky that way.
He said simply, “He needs more blood and lots of it. We won’t know if there are any permanent affects until Angel does wake-up.”
“Don’t give me that, Wes. I know you, remember.” From across the dividing bed and hiding her icy apprehension, Cordelia stared him down, “There’s something festering in that super-sized brain of yours, spill it.”
Fred had begun hooking up the blood bag so it would steadily drip into Angel through a tube inserted into his mouth. Now she stilled and a quick glance at Charles revealed he didn’t like the topic either. They’d worried, fretted and searched for so long that the possibility that it all been in vain and they were going to lose him anyway was the last thing anyone wanted to hear.
Cordelia was braced for the worst and there was a light in her eyes that warned him not to try and pacify, or mislead her. Shrugging as if to say, you asked, Wesley conceded.
“Alright then I won’t spare you the worry. From what research I’ve been able to do there are some serious side-effects to starving a vampire.” Pausing, something akin to despair flickered over his stubbly features. “Increased psychosis and insanity are the hot favourites by all accounts.”
As if being locked up a cage and sunk to the bottom of the sea wasn’t a potential winner in the insanity-making stakes already. They all thought it; just didn’t say it.
The silence following that dire statement was deafening until Gunn piped up, “hell, I always said he had a screw loose” he joked, “Tell us something new.” Then a new thought occurred to him. “Can he hear us?” he asked with a wince.
“Doubtful,” smiled Fred.
Nobody took offence knowing banter was his way of letting off steam. Incredibly the tension did ease a notch; living with death and danger constantly hanging over your head tended to blunt sensitivities.
Cordy smiled, too, it was strained but it was still a smile. “We have him home. That’s all that matters for now. We’ll deal with the rest of it when he does wake up.” A single brow arched high and her tone left no room for doubts that he would.
~
Cordelia had insisted on being left alone with him.
Further down the hall, Fred was probably listening to music in the room she shared with Gunn, while he had gone to fetch some stuff from her apartment, clutching her hastily written list in his hand as he whistled his way out of the hotel. It had been a nice sound to hear and she couldn’t recall the last time he’d done it. In their own ways they’d all missed Angel. Tonight the pall of leaden doom layering the Hyperion had lifted, if not dissipated entirely.
Feeling introspective after the excitement and lying beside Angel on the bed with her head resting on a palm, she ran a finger along one dark brow. She knew who was firmly in-charge when he was awake, and now, watching and tracing that proud brow she wondered idly who was directing the dreams; Angel, Angelus or both?
A frown creased her forehead and she pushed the unpleasant thought away. Cordelia had long ago stopped trying to guess the mental torment Angelus inflicted on Angel in punishment for being locked away, impotent and a mere witness instead of the driving force of evil he’d revelled in being.
Instead she smiled softly and leaned so that her lips almost but not quite brushed his ear. “When you decide to wake-up don’t think your automatically the boss again, Angel. As a bizarre power trip it, being the boss has it moments and I’ve kind of gotten used to it. We’ll hold a vote, okay.”
Then thinking about it some more, she grinned, “Either that or I fight you for it. With the state you’re in and given my recent practice I’d win hands down.”
If she was hoping to get a rise from the notoriously stubborn and arrogant vampire she didn’t get one. Sighing, Cordy dropped the hand, “Fine be that way. I can talk you to death just fine without you butting in. Just don’t think I’ll let you lie there for long. We have work to do, pal.”
She wasn’t kidding. When word had got around that Angel was no longer around the demons of LA had organised a party. It was still in full swing now.
~
“Charles, did you get a shave? Hey…hey! Your beard is pricking me.” Shoving up with a hand on his chest, Fred met his wide grin with an accusing glare.
That was his girl, always dropping a double entendre. His eyes gleamed with wicked lights and Fred clicked, “Don’t say-“
Too late. “I like pricking you. It’s my aim in life.”
Brown eyes narrowed into slits, “Ugh, you are such a…a”
“Hot, fun and ever lovin’ man?” suggested Gunn when she couldn’t find the words. When she didn’t smile he gave up and rolled off both her and the bed with an annoyed grunt. “Fine I’ll go get a shave, but when I get back I expect you to be naked, ya hear.”
Normally Fred loved it when he teased her accent. Recently though she’d been too caught up with worrying about Angel, and Cordy. “If Angel doesn’t wake up Cordy’s going to be devastated.”
He was used to her mercurial changes of topic by now, especially to this one. It was only a variation to the ‘finding’ him one. “Wrong, Fred. Cordy’s stronger than that and besides…” walking naked back into the room to fetch his portable stereo Gunn finished, “…Angel is going to wake up. It’s just a matter of time.”
Turning on her side to watch that magnificent back-view disappear back into the en-suite, Fred wished she had his confidence. Why wasn’t Angel coming around?
Across the hall, Cordelia was wondering the same thing. Pacing Angel’s rooms she chewed around a nail, wracking her brain for something they should be doing that they weren’t already. After a week of four pints of blood a day he was looking better; a heckova lot less wasted and more back to his usual pale rather than the horrible slate grey.
So, why wasn’t he showing any signs of consciousness?
It was driving her nuts. Whirling to the bed, she threw up frustrated hands, “What is with you, what…? Lying about and doing nothing for all that time gave you a taste for it?”
No answer. “What a surprise.”
Shaking her head tiredly, Cordelia dropped beside him and contrarily laid her head on his naked chest. Before this had happened she wouldn’t have considered being so close and intimate. But nursing him, touching him and wiping up the spilled blood that stained his face, neck and upper chest had made sure self-consciousness took a backseat. When he did eventually wake she’d miss this freedom.
That was a problem for later though. First they had to rouse him. For every pint of blood she’d gotten in him, they’d wasted at least half. Most of the time she’d had to massage his throat to get any of the liquid down. “What are we doing wrong, Angel, what else do you need?” she whispered, absently skating a circle around his taut naval with a feather-light finger.
The question seemed to hover over them. Back to normal his skin was silky smooth and there wasn’t any fat on him at all, just heavy muscle; muscle that needed to get moving and haul his ass out of bed.
The bedside table held a lamp and a small annoyingly ticking clock. At a certain angle the soft amber light spilling out caught her wristwatch and reflected back into her face. Blinking, Cordelia squinted at the offending bracelet and then zeroed in on her wrist with its tracery of blue veins.
Fresh, living human blood. Vamp elixir. Moet ét Undead. It could work.
She rejected the idea almost as fast as it hit her. Bolting upright and shaking her head vehemently, she said, “Oh, no. Don’t even think it.”
That was easier said than done. The idea germinated in spite of the negative reaction. Standing up, Cordelia got back to pacing again, flicking the unconscious vampire wary glances as she did. The peasant skirt she was wearing was old and comfortable, as where the fluffy slippers that made no sound as she walked swiftly back and forth. That was a good thing because the riot going on in her head would have drowned out anything else.
Hugging herself nervous fingers tapped a tattoo on both bare arms as she walked and talked out-loud. “One, it probably won’t work because what the hell difference does it make, blood is blood. And two, he’d want to kill you for doing it.” His paranoia over drinking human blood was normally one of the most reassuring things about him.
Yeah well, he had to be awake to do that. It worked last time with Faith and her poisoned arrow.
She scowled at the memory, “That was Buffy’s supercharged blood, not mine.”
The next thought barely got to form. “No way! He doesn’t need her, he’s got me.” She refused to acknowledge that a large part of her absorbance to the idea was letting Buffy back into their lives, especially Angel’s.
So, that leaves you, Fred or Gunn. Do you think they’d be willing to donate? Ask them.
“Oh shut-up. Why am I even arguing with myself? It’s a dumb idea, so just forget it, already.”
Geeze, it’s just a little blood, and so what if he’s pissed, just think about the fun you’ll have shouting him down? “There is that.”
She hadn’t had a good fight since Angel had gone missing. Fred was too nice to argue with and Gunn was either too wily to rise to the bait, or a smart-ass. It had taken Lorne’s pointed comments before he took off for Vegas for her to realise why she got such a kick out of pushing Angel’s buttons. She was in love with the dumbass.
And she wanted him back; all the way back and not just a husk lying on a bed.
Cordelia’s mind raced as she worked the angles. If it didn’t work then they were back to square one and stuck with coma-vamp. If it did work then she could rationalise it. Besides, he might not know anyway.
Swayed by that she stilled and hands on hips debated it with him, “It’s not like I could tell yesterday’s totally tasteless microwave special from today’s. So, what’s the big deal, how would you know?”
The germ grew. It might work. All she had to do was give herself a little cut somewhere not obvious and hey presto, straight from the vein, so to speak anyway. Wasn’t it worth trying?
Chewing her lip, she was forced to admit. “Let’s face it. If this doesn’t work then you being a vegetable is the least of my problems.”
Emotion coupled with harsh reality decided her. Marching over to the bed again to pull open the small drawer in the table, Cordy rummaged inside for the sheathed knife she knew was there. Finding it and slamming the drawer shut again, she refused to look at the impervious face resting on the pillow.
This wasn’t invading his personal space and violating his ethics and their safety. This was…necessary.
Knife hovering over the soft skin of her arm and sucking in a deep fortifying breath, she muttered, “Only you could have a son diabolical enough to pull a stunt like that. Geeze, why is it his little revenge gig means I get to feed daddy?”
Somehow when she’d fantasised about what it would be like when Angel got back, she hadn’t figured this in the equation. More like gratuitous thanks for saving his ass, swiftly followed by a crushing hug and long talks over several expensive dinners in the restaurant of her choice. Maybe even a kiss?
“You are so going to have to wash your mouth out after this, Angel. There is no way I’m kissing that mouth and thinking about my own blood. Yuck!”
Done with the distracting complaints and squeezing her eyes shut, Cordelia slashed the knife over the arm and hissed at the eruption of pain. “Ow!! OwowowowowoW!!”
“God! Why does that hurt so much more when I do it myself? It should be the other way around.”
The knife clattered to the floor as she gripped the bleeding limb and then gingerly scooted over so to be close enough to tip the welling blood to Angel’s closed lips. It spattered over his mouth, chin and nose.
“Gross, it’s like feeding a really big baby, only unbelievably squickier.”
Grimacing at the mess, Cordy pressed a thumb on his bottom lip to prise it and his jaw open. Using the tube had been so much easier, but this was supposed to be fresh. Pressing down the wound to try and get a good seal between her arm and his lips, she watched his face closely, praying for a twitch or any sign this was going to work.
~
The scent of female was distracting, permeating everything with its warm allure. Whoever she was, she was human. Her voice kept pulling him up, snagging his attention to lift him up from the black morass holding him under. Soft and cajoling it soothed him, irate and demanding it made him want to grit his teeth and surge up so he could clamp a hand over the woman’s mouth. How dare she hound him? The sparks of temper she lit had Angel straining to open his eyes only to become drained of strength and fail.
Sinking back he would feel her hands stroking along his skin, the richest velvet that turned liquid just before the pit swallowed him once again. He welcomed it knowing that was precisely where he belonged. Here the hunger couldn’t reach to tear and twist into his guts; here he saw nothing or no-one that would bring back the urge to maim and devastate. Here he was safe and so was everyone else. Angel had no intention of fighting it.
The cold blood she forced on him was disgusting, worse than the stored blood he bought from the black market. If he could have he would have turned away and refused to drink it, but buried, too, deep to move his arms he had no choice but to let her fill the body he could barely feel anymore.
It didn’t matter. He was satisfied, secure in that knowledge that no matter what her reasons her futile attempts to pull him back were failing. Until she did something even he, lost to the world as he was, couldn’t fail to recognise. Living blood, so warm it felt hot dripped into his mouth, soaking into the inert flesh and bringing with it the most excruciatingly exquisite hunger for more.
He began a slow rise from the depths. NooooOOOOOO!!
Cordelia gritted her teeth against the burn of pain and used her other hand to squeeze some more blood into Angel’s mouth. Geeze, how much was enough? Sweat beaded and dripped on her forehead and in the valley between her breasts underneath the loose tunic top. A few seconds more and that would have to do. She was starting to feel dizzy.
She missed the spasm curling his right hand. When he went from lax to rigid she was unprepared and startled by it, jerked away. Instantly strong hands gripped her arm too hard and a strong, piercingly painful suction tore at her arm. God, it felt like her skin was being stripped off.
The scream that tore free couldn’t be helped and it got an instant reaction from him. Feral, furious brown eyes snapped open and focused on her damp face. Then the world went topsy-turvy and she couldn’t breathe when a hard hand pressed ruthlessly down on her mouth.
“Don’t scream,” he snarled. His voice was rusty, hoarse and scraped along her nerves. Cordelia stared up into Angel’s cold face and felt the bottom drop out of her stomach. There wasn’t so much as a flicker of warmth or even recognition in it. His next question confirmed that nebulous fear.
“Who the hell are you?”
Part One
The balcony drapes billowed in the night breeze, revealing and then hiding the Los Angles skyline beyond. Inside the room the bed was a mess. Rumpled sheets were spotted with blood and the twisted cover now trailed along the floor from Angel and then Cordelia diving off it. As hard as she’d tried, Cordelia’s lunge after him hadn’t been quick enough to stop his jump from the balcony to the gardens below.
Hurriedly dressing in the clothes they’d worn before, Fred and Gunn had burst in after hearing her desperate shout that he wait. Now they stood and watched her agitatedly pace back and forth, anxiously chewing a nail as she briefly explained what had happened.
“Man, you mean he just stepped off the damn railing and...shmoosh…down to the ground?” Gunn’s hands mimed toppling and there was just a trace of mild envy in there somewhere.
Cordy wasn’t in the mood for jokes, “Vampires do that, remember.”
“Y’a know,” replied Gunn with a twisted smile, “just admiring a friends moves. It’s been a while.” He shrugged, “At least he’s awake and not a vegetable. That’s a plus isn’t it?”
“Of course it’s a good thing. Now all we need do is find him is all.” Fred looked to Cordy for guidance, “So, you know him best. Where should we look first?”
“I don’t know,” Cordy growled and then shook her head in silent apology at Fred. “Sorry, I’m on edge. I just…,” sighing, she threw up her hands, “he wasn’t right. I don’t think he knew me at all.”
She’d racked her brains from the moment he’d run out and still didn’t have a clue what had gone wrong. Hazel met concerned brown eyes and recognising a silent call for reassurance, Fred rushed over. She wrapped an arm around, Cordy. “We’ll find him. He’s just confused right now and needs his friends.”
Gunn didn’t see anything wrong with that. “Damn straight. We find him, straighten him out and then were back in business.” He had a motto; why complicate simple things.
As a plan it sounded great, but they hadn’t seen his face. The moment Angel had recognised the room he’d given her a savage look and then left without another word. Smiling weakly, Cordy briefly hugged back before pulling away. “Just when I think it’s over…” She didn’t finish and instead walked over to the door. “I guess we’d better gear up to go Angel hunting again. At least we can stay on dry land this time.”
Gunn couldn’t agree more. “Halleluiah, I used to get sea-sick in my sleep dreaming about that heap of junk.”
Cordelia halted and turned at the door to look at him, “Did you get a hold of, Wes?” Given the recent history between the two of them, she hadn’t wanted Wesley involved with Angel until things had settled down. Now though she figured she could do with all the help she could get.
“I caught him on his cell. He’ll be here in ten.”
~
It felt weird to be searching LA for Angel while driving his car. Wesley drove with Cordelia sitting next to him and anxiously scanning the streets. Gunn took his truck along with Fred as look-out. After a brief debate they’d split up to cover more ground with cell-phones in easy reach. The moment Angel was spotted a call would be put through to the other pair.
Navigating a junction, Wesley slid Cordy a glance, “I was beginning to think we got to him too late. How did you bring him out of it?”
In the middle of checking rooftops for a familiar, lonely figure, Cordelia went still and his suspicions were confirmed. She didn’t take her eyes off the road ahead. “I cut myself and gave him some of my blood. I figured it was worth a shot…just didn’t expect the result I got, y’know?”
”I bet you didn’t.” He’d considered it himself and so didn’t blame her. “Do the others know?” he asked out of idle curiosity.
“They didn’t ask, so I didn’t mention it.” Regally beautiful despite the rushed styling that left loose tendrils of hair escaping from the topknot, Cordelia exuded a careless confidence that she shattered in the next instant.
Like a bottle top exploding from internal pressure, she exclaimed, “He didn’t recognise me, Wes, me! The one he was heading for a romantic rendezvous with that ended with him going…cha-chaing with the fishes. You think he’d remember that dontcha think?”
If she was after comfort he wasn’t capable of offering any. “Its possible he doesn’t know any of us.”
The warning was unnecessary. Puffing out a long breath she sat back and said, “You think he has amnesia don’t you?”
“Don’t you? It fits the facts.”
Meaning the souled vampire they were chasing down was not the Angel they knew. He didn’t care about her, their family or the mission. Angel had hated talking about his life before being called to slayer-assisting duties. They had snippets though and those were enough to make her want to bang her head against something hard.
“God! I never thought I’d say this, but I could kill Connor right now.”
That name alone caused Wesley to stiffen, tension turning his knuckles white as he steered the big black monster of a car. “Lets keep focused. Connor is a separate issue.”
Meaning moaning about the sweet baby they’d lost only to be replaced by a dangerous brat didn’t help. “Fine, focusing here.” Wesley’s calm helped her grab onto hers. Rubbing circles around her temples to try and massage away the throbbing pain of a headache, she asked, “Okay, so how do you think I can fix this? I’m open to suggestions.”
Just like old times. The pang her asking for help gave him was ruthlessly suppressed. Accustomed to being rejected after a life-time of it, the need to return to the fold was easily buried until the time was right for a reckoning. Wesley took his own advice and focused on the topic, “Angel needs to stay with the group. If he leaves then the chances of his memory returning anytime soon are remote at best. Another thing is the curse. If he isn’t aware of the happiness clause then he must be appraised of it as quickly as possible.”
“Well, duh! I knew that already.” Reigning in impatience, she conceded, “The staying with us part, anyway.” Then frowning, added, “I hadn’t even thought of the curse. Why, you don’t think-”
“Highly unlikely, but it’s not something he should be kept ignorant of.”
A no-boner Angel who didn’t even know he shouldn’t get himself laid. As expressive as ever her face was a picture. “Fabulous. Now there’s a great conversational piece. Can’t you just picture it?”
He cut her off before she could get into her stride. “Don’t worry about the curse. I’m looking into it. That’s the easy part. I don’t think you realise just how tough this is going to be. Angel is a loose cannon right now.”
Forced to brake for a red-light, he did so thinking it at least gave him a chance to give his whole attention to the girl he considered the key to the problem. “There are no official records of him from Romania until he turned up in Sunnydale. We can only guess what his frame of mind was from the little we’ve gleaned from Angel himself.”
“Yeah, and going off my two seconds with him. Sunny doesn’t enter into it.” Cordelia quipped with a wince. “Geeze, this sucks.”
She still wasn’t grasping the ramifications. Doggedly he said, “People suffering from amnesia need to be relaxed. Based on his aversion to human company at the time I’m certain he’ll need an inducement to stay.” Piercing blue eyes bored into hers, “You need to think about what that might be and consider whether you’re willing to risk it.”
Risk what? The fine hairs on her arms and legs rose and she wondered a little hysterically if he was really thinking what she thought he meant. Rather than guess and find she was way off base, she demanded, “Stop with the riddles and just spit it out, Wes. What inducement?”
“I’ve given this some thought and to my mind you’re the key. Remember, he has no connection with any of us now. You had the strongest pull on Angel’s emotions before, so, I think you need to use that to make him love you again.”
At least he wasn’t suggesting she prostitute herself, or at least not literally. Cordelia goggled, “Are you insane?! It took years for us to realise we had feelings for each other and you think I can re-do all of that in a few weeks?” Shaking her head, she swallowed back a lump. “Wes, I don’t even know for sure Angel had those feelings. That’s what I wanted to find out.”
~
Nothing was like it was supposed to be. For a start everything looked and smelled different. The places he knew were either gone, or changed to something else. Even the people he passed were strangely dressed. Lounge suits and fedora hats; fur coats and dresses covered in pretty flowers with flirty skirts and hosiery, were all gone and replaced with bizarre tee-shirts, baggy pants and belts made out of chains.
His stolen clothes were nothing out of the ordinary, but the huge selection in the store he’d broken into had stumped him long enough he’d almost got caught by the cops. How they’d known of the break-in, Angel could only guess since he hadn’t heard an alarm go off.
After wandering for hours, hungry and increasingly aggravated, he came to a bar he’d never been in before and hesitated outside. In the end it was the unmistakeable odour of demons that persuaded Angel to risk going inside. Given the human factor inherent in vampires they have no friends in the demon community and a few enemies, but being alone should mean they ignored him. If not, well, he could do with the exercise thanks to that woman’s blood still singing though his veins.
Living, warm and fresh from the vein human blood. It had tasted like nothing else on earth and until now, he’d been doing a good job of keeping her out of his thoughts. Pushing open the swing doors a scowl settled between his brows. Damn her! What the hell had she been thinking?
Instead of a dingy bar filled with smoke, he got a flashback of shocked hazel eyes and full lips dropped open so that panting breathes bathed his chin with humid warmth. Walking over to the bar, he dismissed the shiver that rippled down his torso as instinctive alarm when several pairs of inhuman eyes instantly swung his way. Despite the threat he sensed coming from all quarters, Angel’s thoughts stayed on the human.
Foolish girl. The control he forced on his appetites was touch-and-go at the best of times, so it would have served her right if he’d finished her off instead of letting her live. A surprisingly large part of him wanted to go back and make sure she learned that lesson before she did get herself killed. It was surprising because after the last time he’d tried to save a human, he’d sworn to himself never again.
He had no idea who she was, what games she was playing and why they were taking place in that hotel. Three good reasons why going back there was a bad idea. He wasn’t going back. With that settled he ordered a drink from the surly barman.
Yellow eyes blinked at him. “You want human blood? I thought you only drank pigswill?”
What the… Angel stared. “Do I know you?”
The demon fidgeted, pinned by emotionless dark eyes, “No.”
“So, just get me the drink. I didn’t ask for a debate.”
Dark empty eyes bored into widening cat eyes. Put like that the bartender flipped his towel over one shoulder and picked up a glass. “Okay, one pint of human blood coming right up.”
Still mentally shaking his head over the demons statement, Angel felt someone come to stand beside him. Whoever it was they were big, stank to high heaven and were standing too close for comfort. In a place like this a mistake like that can you get killed instantly. It wasn’t a mistake. He had to look up a long way, “Want something?”
The bar went quiet and still with violent expectation. “You’re, Angel, right?”
It was a male Jhekkoran, Jekko for short and a species notorious for causing trouble and starting pitch battles wherever they went. Those weren’t exactly uncommon traits in demons, but these large scaly bastards had the meat and muscle to back it up.
Hands loosely ringing the glass on the bar, Angel appeared disinterested. After the first glance he didn’t bother being polite and maintaining the contact. Calmly facing the bottled shelves, he took a sip and said dryly, “Am I wearing a badge and I don’t know it?”
The grimy mirror behind the bar was useful for something other than not presenting him with a reflection. Now, the Jekko grinned down at the space where his head would be.
“Everybody knows you, vampire with the bleeding soul.”
Now Angel did look back up. “I think ‘bleeding heart’ is the phrase you’re after …and no I don’t have one of those. Do you?”
“Do I what?”
A dark brow quirked, “Have a bleeding heart?”
“No.”
“Guess again.”
Throwing the glass of blood straight into the Jekko’s grey scaled face to blind it, Angel leant up against the bar. Reaching over, he snatched up the carving knife left there to chop up body parts for blending into cocktails. Before the demon could even bring up clawed hands to scrub away the thick red liquid, the knife was imbedded straight into its heart.
The large body toppled to the floor, dead. The bar went even quieter. “Blood lust has its uses” said Angel into the thick silence, and threw the stained knife at the barman who blanched and froze as it thudded next to his head; eyeing the quivering blade with terror. There was nothing like getting a little death in to get the juices flowing. Sardonically he said, “I think you should clean that. It stank before I used it on our pal here.”
Then the stunned, oppressive silence was broken by a growled, “Hey,” and two other Jekko’s thrust their way through the assemblage. Wearing medieval brown leather tunics and pants and massively built, the pair towered over a crowd made up of a variety of species. For all their outer differences though the crowd had one thing in common; they were all dangerous and hated Angel with a passion. Recognising that, he wondered at it as they made way for the Jekko’s without a single protest at being shoved aside.
With no other choice except to face off, Angel smiled grimly, “I wondered when you two where gonna join in the fun.”
“You killed, Hyde.”
“Apt name,” Angel watched the pair fan out, “and I killed him before he could rip my head off. So sue me.” It was kind of ironic how pissed he’d been that the girl had woken him from that fathomless sleep, and yet now his survival instincts wouldn’t let him just die.
“I’ll rip your head off, vampire.”
Sleeping was one thing, dusted another. The hate brimming inside the bar was perplexing. He had never met and didn’t know any of these demons. Focusing on the immediate threat, he thrust the questions aside for now. “You can try. I like it where it is.”
Angel came to that regret that statement within seconds when his head connected with a solid wall hard enough to set off the bells of Notre Dame. Weaving clumsily on his feet, he managed to slide under another swing and spinning on his heel whipped up a leg in an arc that connected with the demons back, sending it for some personal time of its own with the wall.
Then feeling the telling, rapid movement of air from his left, he met the others swing with an upraised right, deflecting the blow and smashing a pile-driver left fist in its face at the same time. The impact knocked him back more than it did the demon. Damn it, they were too big and nerveless for hand-to-hand. If he didn’t figure something out fast his limbs would be torn off, swiftly followed his head as promised.
Desperately searching for inspiration while deflecting when he could and avoiding what he couldn’t, Angel spotted another demon type he recognised. The Talahasin were a mystical breed with a code of ethics; one of which was to never be seen in public without their personal, ceremonial sword. The hilt of the sword was sticking out from behind the demons nape. The sword was strapped to its back. Handy place.
The distraction meant he missed the claws swinging for him until it was too late to avoid them. The claws caught the jacket he was wearing and launched him into the air, only to land fatefully close to the Talahasin. Stumbling back to his feet, Angel dove for it.
Knocked to the floor the dazed demon was too busy defending its intricately painted face to realise the crazed vampire was after his sword. Yanking it out, Angel stood and whirled back into play. Riding on the blood-lust roaring through his system, he rolled sore shoulders and grinned, “My turn now.”
The Jekko’s got what he meant when his speed and flexibility out-matched theirs by a ridiculous amount. During hand-to-hand they had the advantage because of their thick scaled hides and sheer weight. Facing a keen sword wielded by a ruthless and cornered fighter, they were cut to ribbons.
The bar’s wooden floor was tacky before the fight and by the time it ended it was spattered with blood, assorted body parts and finally heavy grimacing heads. Tossing the sword to clatter close to its owner, a sweaty and bruised Angel eyed the remaining demons. Nobody spoke or moved for several beats.
Returning to the bar to swipe up the miraculously unbroken glass, Angel drained the dregs before announcing, “If we’re done here then I’m leaving now. Don’t think it’s not been fun.”
That remained unchallenged until reaching the exit. Stunned, he halted hearing a grumbling demon mutter under its breath, “Good riddance. Let him go to that stinkin’ hotel and his human pets. What did he think would happen, waltzing in here after all he’s done? Loser!”
~
It was nearly dawn before Cordelia was able to sleep. Worry and frustration had been chasing themselves around her head until insanity looked not only tempting, but pretty damned likely. Going back to her apartment hadn’t appealed and so she’d returned to Angel’s room in the unlikely even he come back. The chair she’d initially chosen to wait in turned out to be a master of deceptive upholstering. It wasn’t so much a chair as a freakin’ torture device.
Giving up, she’d crawled on-top of the bedcover and finally dozed off with unlikely fantasies of Angel being forced to dig under some filthy cemetery somewhere to escape dawn. Maybe even having no choice except to lie on a cracked and dusty old tomb instead of his own bed. The dumbass deserved to be uncomfortable for worrying her like this.
The first inkling she got that she wasn’t alone anymore was a gratingly loud dragging sound in the room with her. Coming awake, she sat up and blinked groggily. Over by the door a large shadow was doing something she was sure she wasn’t going to like.
“Angel, is that you…and what are you doing?”
His deep voice answered simply, “I’m barricading the door. And just so you know, it’s locked, too.”
That woke her up faster than a cold shower. “Care to share why?”
“So there won’t be any interruptions while I get some answers out of you.”
~
Lifting the heavy drapes aside, Angel looked down at the street below. The cityscape was still alien to him. Strange cars sped past in a noisy and never-ending stream, headlights glaring and bodywork gleaming with reflected light. Neon signs plinked wherever he looked with reds, pinks and yellows dotted everywhere.
It was still night, if barely, and the time for his kind to roam under cover of darkness. Yet to him it seemed almost as bright as day. This was not what he remembered, or imagined on the rare occasions he thought about the future.
Idle curiosity satisfied and dropping the balcony curtain, he turned back to the girl on the bed. She was the most bizarre of all. The fact that he’d woken up a different world was undisputable, but her explanation for that was pure bullshit. Keeping his expression clear, he’d gotten up from the chair halfway through and then only listened with only half an ear.
Simply being back inside this hotel again made Angel’s skin crawl with loathing; a feeling mostly directed at himself for being such a gullible fool the last time he was here. Dropping back in the padded armchair, he felt like he’d been in train accident thanks to the Jekko’s. Just five minutes of listening to her prattle on about the so-called last fifty years of his life had given him a pounding headache to go with it. Sleeping with slayers, going evil and turning good again, witches, watchers and seers, visions and prophecy’s, him being a champion for good and helping the helpless on the road to redemption. Last but not least, he had a son!
“You have that look on your face, Angel. The one that’s says your not listening to me; just waiting for me to stop yakking.”
“Perceptive of you.”
“Look I know how it sounds, okay, I’ve lived it and I can’t believe it half the time-“
Marvelling that she honestly expected him to believe any of this crap, Angel slowly shook his head. “What you’re saying isn’t possible. For a start, vampires don’t have children, we can’t. As for the rest of it…” he trailed off and let the silence speak for him.
The disgust that had flickered over his face after being told he’d fallen in love with a Slayer had been classic. Thinking of it from his point of view, Cordelia cringed and sitting cross-legged on the bed, wrung her hands. “Okay, so you don’t believe me and I can’t blame you, but I don’t know what else to tell you because…” she spread helpless hands, “it’s all true.”
Beautiful and brimming with sincerity wearing simple yet colourful pyjama’s and pink fluffy things on her feet, she couldn’t have looked more appealing. When he swallowed Angel could still taste her and that only pissed him off more. Coldly he mocked, “If this is where I’m supposed to say that story is so bad it has to be true, you’re heading for disappointment.” Nearly black eyes glittered with bitterness, “Darla hates my guts for-“
“China I know.” Cordy butted in annoyed. “I got all the gory details the last time you hopped on the Angel’n’Darla Merry-go-round.” Seeing the sharp query in his eyes she smiled wryly, “You’d be surprised how much I know about you and her, you, and a lot of people actually.”
Since he didn’t know her from Adam, that statement only doubled his suspicions. Almost casually he asked, “Who are you working for?”
Levelling a look that screamed, are you deaf? She said, “You! Geeze, I told you that about a gadzillion times in the last five minutes. Did you think it’d changed?”
He shook his head. “I think I’d remember something like that. Forget the lies, I want to know who’s put you up to this” he jerked a chin up to indicate the hotel, “and why me, and just so you know I don’t have a lot of patience.”
“Tell me something I don’t know. And have you never heard of amnesia?” Frustration made her voice sharp, “You lay in a mental box for months, stewing in your own juices and starving. So, is it any wonder you’ve gone all brain melty. Ugh, Wesley said you might be mental, but I didn’t figure I’d actually prefer that to this.”
Angel dismissed the rest and latched onto the last. “Wesley, that would be the watcher?” The Watchers Council was a good candidate for this fiasco, although why they’d go to so much trouble after all this time was a mystery. It made some sense though, certainly more than her fairy tales of him being some kind of noble champion.
Cordy didn’t bother answering. “In fact I’m getting pretty tired of being called a liar. I don’t lie to my friends.”
He had an answer for her. “I’m not your friend.” That was almost as impossible as a miracle child. He’d known her less than an hour and already she was driving him nuts. Just looking at her brought a lot of unsavoury itches back to the fore. Before the soul, humans had been his playthings and in different circumstances, she would have been an adored favourite for as long as she survived. Even souled want unfurled in his belly and ruthlessly he choked it.
Well damn that hurt. Temper followed the pain on swift wings. Stiffening, Cordelia bit out, “You’ve seen the date on the paper. You’ve seen the street outside. So you know this isn’t 1952. You’ve just lost 50 years, Angel, what the hell do you think you’ve been doing, drifting?”
“It worked for two centuries.”
Irritation made her reckless, forgetting he wasn’t their Angel at all. “Ya think? Is that what you call it? I call it a waste of a life, but what the heck.”
“Do you now,” Angel said quietly.
With brows lowered over narrowed onyx eyes, he looked dangerously provoked. Back-peddling she added brightly, “Think of it this way, fighting for the powers is a creative alternative to being a vagrant?”
There was a long unblinking pause. She was sticking to her story like glue and unless he was willing to hurt her to get at truth, Angel realised he’d have to look for answers elsewhere. At least there were other humans in the hotel who might be less stubborn. If not he’d reconsider a harder approach. Being smacked around a bit, or pressure applied to vulnerable spots on the body were just a few of the options available to someone versed in the arts of torture.
He didn’t want to do it. Angel had an aversion to hurting women that dated back to his life as a human. Back then, as wantonly as his fists had flown he’d never sent them in the direction of a woman, but if she forced him he would. Inflicting pain didn’t have to mean permanent damage and at least then she’d stop pretending he was her friend. He didn’t have or want any friends.
Unwelcome, Judy’s face swam before his minds-eye. He’d been a fool to think he could offer help to a human and it would be accepted.
“They’re not gonna find it. ’Cause I’m gonna help you.”
“I mean, there is such a thing as forgiveness, right?” His little would-be thief, so innocent and totally unaware of the lightening bolt she’d just dealt him. It didn’t matter because she’d doused it soon after when the mob got hold of her.
“It wasn’t me! It wasn’t me!” She’d seen Angel coming to help her and broke free of their grip. Tears were streaming down her face as she took a couple of running steps towards him. At the time he’d had no idea just how much she’d known. “It was him! Look in his room! Go ahead, look! He’s got blood! He’s a monster!”
Swinging from the end of a rope as it crushes your neck is not something you forget, even when you’re a vampire. The pain of betrayal had bitten deep enough to leave scars. He hadn’t fought them, what was the point. It had been all he could do to stop his neck from getting snapped.
There was no forgiveness for him or in him. This was somebody’s idea of a joke and Angel wasn’t laughing. He refused to get sucked in again. If he needed a reminder he only had to walk into the lobby and look up to see the place they’d lynched him from. Getting physical would be a last resort, but he would end this farce.
By the residual musky smell of sex filtering from outside the room, he was guessing at least one of the heartbeats he could hear was male. A man he could deal with. He’d start with him after he’d taken a shower to wash away some of the aches making him stiff.
Decision made he rose, “I’m going to take a shower. Get up.”
Instantly wary of the sudden change of direction and guessing she’d missed something crucial going on behind that blank mask, Cordy eyed the locked door before looking at him through the screen of her lashes. Pointedly, she said, “The showers are through there. You don’t need an escort, you’re a big vampire.”
Before she could finish and without another word, he seized her arm and dragged her off the bed. Gasping, “Hey!” Cordy stumbled as she was whizzed across the room with his voice rumbling in her ear. “You’re coming, too, so you don’t get any big ideas about screaming for your friends. When I’m done and if you’ve behaved yourself, I’ll leave you alone and go say howdy myself.”
She didn’t like that one little bit. “They’ll tell you the same things I have, so why bother?” There was no way she was letting him go after the others without warning. Even if that meant screaming for Gunn earned her an abrupt meeting with regresso-vamps fist. Of course she’d kill him after. She had some moves of her own.
“Ugh, I just wish you’d listen to me and stop being such a…umph.”
Thrust into the corner of the small room between the sink and the wall, she was winded by the rough impact. Not for long though, “Owww, and hey!” Glaring daggers she sniped, “Less manhandling by the non-man in the room, okay? Geeze, what is your problem?”
Scowling and rubbing the back of her head, she waited in vain for an apology. A gentleman at heart, usually Angel would rush out an apology if he accidentally bumped her arm in passing. Not so this one who’s humanity was so thin it was barely there. This situation was officially no longer funny, not that it ever had been. And Wesley thinks I can make this guy fall in love with me! Yeah, like that’s gonna happen.
Cordelia needed a plan B, as in maybe she could somehow get him to lower his guard long enough for her to dig out the tranq gun?
Hot temper and a sudden attack of dizziness had made him forget his own strength for a second. Hiding a wince and biting back an apology, Angel was relieved she was feisty enough to not need it. Still he kept a careful watch of her expressive face as he undid his pants.
With the shirt already shed, she was staring at his bare chest with an unfocused look that suggested deep thought, or more likely desperate planning. Hooking his thumbs in the waistband of his pants to push them down, he raised a brow and warned, “Whatever you’re thinking I wouldn’t do it.”
Yanked back into the unpleasant present and jerking her eyes away to stare straight ahead, Cordy swallowed hard, “I don’t know what you mean.” God, I’m not that much of an open book am I? Just in case she kept her gaze glued to the door. Resentment rocketing, she asked pointedly, “Do you know what I’m looking forward to?” Then not waiting for a reply, finished with, “You in full possession of you faculties, dripping with remorse and begging me to even talk to you.”
Boots hit the tiles with a dull thud, followed by, “A word of advice. Provoking me isn’t a great idea right now. And I don’t beg.” The even tone couldn’t hide the nerve-strike.
Satisfied, she shot back, “Hah! Says the guy who can’t remember the last fifty years of his unlife.”
Angel didn’t respond and the curtain rattled on the shower rail. A few seconds later and the sound of running water filled the room. Puffing out a breath Cordy risked a glance and clashed with brown eyes staring straight at her.
Crap! He hadn’t shut the curtain again. Rivers of crystal water and soapsuds drifting down a nude, muscled body seared the back of her eyeballs. In other circumstances that particular wet male body roped with thick, heavy muscle would have garnered appreciation, now it just pissed her off more. She’d nursed that body back to full strength, damn it, and look what it had got her.
Grinding her teeth so hard her jaw ached, she got back to staring tensely at the chipped white paint of the door. Anger didn’t stop her from trying to reach him. “Whether you believe me or not, we’re your friends. The four of us spent months looking for you. What’s it going to take to convince I’m telling the truth?”
“Do you know what the last thing I remember is?”
Her belly clenched at the familiar and hated silky tone. Why do I get the feeling I’m gonna hate this? “Surprise me.”
“Trusting in and trying to help a human. She was pretty like you, but naive or at least I thought so.” Unseen his smile was frigid with self mockery, “I was willing to go up against a demon to save her. Then she got me lynched.” He left a speaking pause, “I don’t trust humans and that includes you.”
Heart sinking, a lot of her anger drained as Cordy groaned and wished she could just tip back her head and scream. Geeze, wasn’t that just her luck? His memory couldn’t have got stuck the week before Angel was reminded how little the human race sometimes deserved help. Still, knowing it helped her get back some perspective.
The brittleness in her voice softened. “I know about Judy, Angel, and I’m sorry. I can only imagine what that was like.” Not to mention how much it set him back on his road to actively doing something with his soul. “If it helps, you came back and saved her- soft of…got rid of the Thesulak demon, too, before moving us all in here.”
“Another fairy tale,” he growled and stepped out to roughly yank a towel off the rail. Angel left the water running as a precaution to cover their voices. “When I left here I told him to kill them all. Somehow I doubt he was in a merciful mood. I know I wasn’t.”
“I get that. You were trying to help and they strung you up and tossed you over the rail. Not pleasant.” Now she met his gaze unflinchingly, keeping it level with his hard face, “You can’t scare me, Angel. I know regular humans can be monsters, too. Same as I know how much the idea of finding a purpose meant to you. I’m sorry they took that away.”
Everything about her screamed sincerity and despite himself Angel was stumped. It was a tiny fissure that wasn’t anywhere near enough to crack his hard emotionless shell, but even so it reached him.
For the first time since he’d woken up, Angel looked approachable. His usually spiked hair was dripping wet and flat to his head. As ridiculous as it was given he was a vampire it gave him a vulnerable air. Unknowingly, she traced his darkly handsome features, accepting the heartbreaking familiarity wasn’t returned.
Hope blossomed. “Angel-“
The moment was lost when the bathroom door was thrust open from the other side. Before thought could become action and a warning shouted, Cordelia found herself facing Gunn and Fred with an iron band wrapped in a choke-hold around her neck. The arm forcing her head back was steel-hard and merciless. Instantly breathing was an issue.
Framed inside the open where a semi naked Fred and Gunn who had once again obviously only thrown on the minimum to investigate whatever had alerted them. They’d been so engrossed nether had heard the dresser being gently pushed aside.
“What the…Angel?” Fred whispered horrified.
Gunn was just as flummoxed, “What the hell is going on. Cordy… why didn’t you-“
“Have you gone evil?” asked Fred, interrupting with a quaver in her soft voice. Hearing that, Gunn snapped shut his jaw and looked ready to jump depending on the answer.
Oh, this did not look good. Licking lips that had gone scarily dry, Cordy jumped in with, “He’s not evil… nothings changed. He doesn’t know who we are and thinks were trying to trick him.”
“That’s bullshit,” exploded Gunn.
When he surged forward Cordy could feel the muscle flexing under her jaw, “Back off, Gunn. He’s hurting me and you’re not exactly helping.”
“But…”
“Back off!!”
The atmosphere in the tiny space was explosive. Keeping the girls arms pinned behind her back with one arm, Angel relaxed his other enough so she could breath. Gaze locked with the one she’d called Gunn, he warned low, “Do as the lady says, or I break her neck.”
Shaking his head in sheer disbelief Gunn reluctantly backed away again. “Goddamn, when you go off the rails, you really go off the rails, brah? If you hurt her-”
The throbbing between Angel's ears dug deeper and it was a struggle to sneer, “What, you’ll dust me?”
Gunn didn’t think that needed answering except to say softly, “Won’t need to man. You’ll do that yourself the second you get your memory back. Cordelia’s your family. Don’t you remember?”
Something in that dark serious face sliced through the tough hide of cynicism long enough for him to hesitate. His hold of the girl relaxed further. Then inexplicably the rush of adrenaline began to drain out of his system and a peculiar dizziness dropped like a smothering shroud. Abruptly the floor came up to meet him, or would have done if hands hadn’t grabbed hold before he hit the deck.
Through the fog he could hear her voice, relieved, decisive and firm, “Well this is unexpected and um…very welcome. He must still be weak or something. Let’s get him back on the bed before he passes out completely.” A strong shoulder braced and supported his left side and between them they half dragged him back to the soft mattress.
As Angel sank he heard the little Texan ask, “Did you know his arms are covered in bruises. He must have gotten into a fight with somebody. Should we tie him up, just in case?”
The girl, Cordelia, spoke again, “After the last few minutes it’s tempting, believe me. But he’s angry and wary as hell right now. If we chain him up it’ll only make him worse.”
“At least he’s awake and back home. That’s an improvement, right?”
“You mean apart from the psycho part?” She sighed, “Kidding! And yeah, that’s a big improvement, Fred. Now all we need do is find a way to prove I’m not lying.” She sighed again in an even longer out-puff of aggravated air, “Nothing is ever easy with you, Angel. It’s like you practice at it just to bug me the crap out of me. It’s working by the way.”
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