Title: Angel ½ Series
Author: Ignited (Stef. Whatever.)
Posted: 06-06-2003
Rating: PG-13 for sexuality and language
Email: ignitedangel@aol.com
Content: C/A
Category: Comedy
Summary: Angel and Cordelia infiltrate an elaborate Japanese scheme with a trip, a curse, and some wicked high heels.
Spoilers: Set after the events of S4. Lots of speculation, but in short, everyone is intact and happy and normal. Some finale spoilers disregarded, ‘cause I want them happy and together, damn it!
Disclaimer: The characters in the Angelverse were created by Joss Whedon & David Greenwalt. No infringement is intended, no profit is made.
Distribution:
Notes: I’m such a remake whore. Anyway, watched Ranma ½ the other day and the creative cogs started turning. This story has borrowed Ranma’s curse, and is loosely based on the second Ranma ½ movie, ‘Nihao My Concubine’. Rent it – I highly recommend it if you like anime and comedy. Also, millions of thanks to Kel for the beta! Thank you so much!
Dedication: To the usual suspects: Steffi and Kath. I promised happy - and they get it! Damn lucky people! Least I could do after torturing them so much about this fic. And to Gabs—look! I’m still writing! Also? To Lara and Kel because they both rock.
Feedback:

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Part 1: Curse of the Drowned Girl

“All I ask is for some nice quality time—at home, okay, or preferably in a five star restaurant—with you—hello, boyfriend if you’ve forgotten—enjoying a nice, quiet dinner date while talking about fun… nice - happy things. And what do I get?” Cordelia asked, her voice hushed, but words spilling in a rush, an eyebrow raised while gesturing. “This!”

Cordelia sat cross-legged, her back against a slick brick wall, fancy jacket not good enough for covering herself wholly—whether for her body or protecting her reputation, it was hard to tell—in the place she was at. It had been perfect. Perfect. No cases, no fighting, no mumbling coming from Angel about not knowing how to ‘have fun’. He went out and took her to a decent Chinese restaurant, a quiet little evening for the couple. Wes and the others said they just wanted to maybe check out a movie, or hang out at the hotel, just to give Angel and Cordelia the space they desired. Alone time was a precious commodity these days, so for once, being alone, restaurant, nice food? Good.

Then she had that vision. Kidnapped girls. Toothy, pointy demons.

It corresponded to one of the articles Wesley had read in the newspaper that morning, different girls gone missing. His voice on the other end of the phone sounded worried, Cordelia trying to concentrate despite Angel’s fast driving to the scene of the vision and the cursing by other motorists. Wesley’s resolve came back into place, his voice firm, asking for the address of the location she and Angel were speeding to.

So that’s why Angel ordered the food to go. That’s why she was in that place, muttering about work never failing to constantly interrupt her social life—dinner, marriage, heck, Emmy awards, it’d happen. Smell that food, Cordy. Salivate. Mutter further about the drooling that followed. Well, she wasn’t going to let that good food go to waste by popping the cold meal into the microwave later. Cordelia Chase was born stubborn, and visions or not, she’d stay that way.

The place that they had been unceremoniously sent to was a stinky and wet, rat-infested alley. A plain, white carton was perched on her lap, two chopsticks used in one hand, the other hand pulling out a paper napkin from a brown paper bag wrapped in a happy face plastic bag. Have a Nice Day, it said. She wondered if she could get a refund based solely on that.

“Keep it down, Cordy,” Angel whispered, Cordelia hearing the equal moodiness. Seeing it plainly, but loving him all the more for it. He seemed to be a soldier in the cardboard trenches, crouched, covered in dirt, clothing ripped in numerous places.

She stabbed a chopstick in the darkness from her seated position in the alley next to a row of cardboard boxes and dented, musty trash cans.

“Save it.”

He may have been displeased with the situation also—knowing full well she’d let him have it later—but the task came first. Ducking against the barrier to obscure himself from view, black trench coat pooling around his feet, Angel let his muscles relax. With a deep sigh, Angel turned from his crouching position, a favorite sword taken from the car trunk laid out on his lap, leaning back against the boxes hiding him. Cordy remembered all the times she’d heard about that sword—and she totally doubted it had ever been Genghis Khan’s—and that wasn’t the point right now. The point was, she was stuck in an alley, sitting in…something she’d rather not think about.

“All I’m saying is that hey, what’s with going economized? Come on, Angel, sweetie. Going all out once in a while would not kill you. ‘Cause, y’know, already dead and all.”

He shook his head. “We can’t keep spending frivolously—“

“Frivolously?! Angel, there’s that fifty thousand we got from those demons who tried to cut Fred’s head off. Hello? Secret stash?”

“That’s Connor’s college fund,” Angel responded, looking a cross between annoyed and shocked.

“So he can get a college fund while I’m left here eating noodles in an alley?” Cordelia shook her head, digging into the carton. “He’ll probably go splurge the money anyway.”

He raised an eyebrow. “And what would he buy?”

“A boat.” She slurped a noodle. “If he has any money left over… I’d say… a pony.”

“A pony?”

“Yep.”

“What would he use the pony for?”

“You know. Beast of burden. Dragging starvin’ Aunt Cordy around.” The girl looked thoughtful. “Now that’d make a good song.”

She was tired, too tired to come up with plausible things for Connor to buy. Even Angel looked weary—not older—but… around his eyes, the way those lids lowered, dark eyes looking at her. Constantly. He always did that now. Made sure she was there. Languid movements, slight glances towards her. Was that his ankle rubbing against her leg? Damn – that hand of his was moving—

A sigh escaped from her lips dramatically, just to watch Angel squirm and flinch away. Her thoughtful demeanor gone, Cordelia wiped her mouth with the napkin. Angel could merely shake his head at her, a small smile. “Playing Willie to your Indiana Jones was so not my plan for tonight.”

“Cordy—“

Another gesture of chopsticks. “Nice dinner. Not necessarily big, but Angel, you and me waiting for some demons to appear isn’t my idea of fun.”

Angel waved his hand, now peering over the box. “Cordy! Shh.”

“You ‘shh’! Ugh. Great. Greaaat. Ah, see, I get it now. Who could pass up a night of getting wet while crouching on dog poo? I swear, if any of this gets on my jacket…” Scrunching her nose, she started to pull and check her jacket.

“…You’re impossible.”

“I know. But you like impossible.”

“To a – point!” Angel shouted, the last word slightly unclear as he had leaped over the boxes, engaging a fight with a Merdorian demon. They weren’t too harsh on the eyes—in terms of the ick scale—looking more or less humanoid but very pale blue. Blades stuck out of their skin in random places. There were ridges where their eyebrows should have been, needle-like teeth that chomped and bit air quite furiously, trying to take a bite out of Angel.

It succeeded, she could see, from the torn trench coat and the sounds of Angel roaring. She was breathless watching him, biting her lip at the sight of his wounds, proud seeing the way he dodged and fought valiantly. Cordelia worried over him getting in the way of those teeth—he did already, that’d leave a mark—and worried about her heart beating furiously in its rib cage, how his body twisted and stretched to give powerful kicks and blows to a demonic midsection.

Stuffing the hurriedly closed carton into her bag, Cordy picked it up and jumped over the barrier of boxes into the alley. The coppery tang of magic and metal greeted her nose and painted the inside of her mouth, overriding the Chinese food. The hissing sounds of smoke rose from sewer vents, heavy metal dumpsters open and closed, cars lazily driving by at the far, distant end of the alley. Sounds of splashing water could be heard as Angel dragged and stamped his boots in puddles while throttling the demon.

Cordelia thought he was handling this on his own, but realized almost too late, that she was mistaken. Another Merdorian demon jumped out to grab her, making her drop the bag. She heard a sound, another growl from Angel. He was in pain, and her heart leaped. There were scraps of wood in the alley, boxes broken… He could be staked. He could be dust now, blowing into the wind, and—God, let it not happen now. Let them just get through the night, a ruined date behind them. That didn’t matter. Angel did.

She wasn’t going to let him off the hook for waiting so long to ask her out. Okay, Connor, Jasmine, coma, but it was about time after he hugged her frantically, her mind snapping back into reality from the long sleep, that he asked her on a date.

If he was hers, he’d have to live through the night and make up for his hesitancy. After all, it would be fair.

Growling a little, she half kicked, half pushed the demon to bang it into the wall of a dumpster. The creature jumped up, startling her, perched suddenly on the edge of the dumpster like a sweating jungle feline. With a smile she shot a fist forward, punching the creature on its leg. It lost its balance, tumbling into the stinky dumpster and hitting the back of its head on the edge.

“That takes care of that,” she murmured while snapping the dumpster lid shut on the creature’s neck. Cordelia scrunched her nose as the demon’s head dissolved into blue goo.

“Are you okay?” Angel asked, coming up behind her. Despite his quiet words, she jumped. “I heard bones breaking. I thought—“ He traced his finger over her shoulder and she turned to face him.

“No…. I mean, I’m fine….” Cordy took a deep breath. “There were more demons in my vision. Let’s go get Wesley and Gunn.”

They had split up, Angel and Cordy in the alley, the other two searching the warehouses for the demons. Two down, and probably more to go.

Angel nodded to the alley, the path deeper into the rows of warehouses. “Come on. The sooner we kill these things, the better.”

“Tell that to my jacket.”

“Cordelia…”

“I’m going, I’m going,” she responded, moving close behind him as he started his cautious walk. She grabbed the tip of his jacket, shrugging when he turned to look at her. “I can’t see in the dark. Mr. Night Vision.”

Angel nodded, slowly walking forward while keeping all senses attuned to any movement save for himself and Cordelia. “Keep close.”

It was a dark night, the sky normally a dark midnight blue but from this point, the lights in Los Angeles cast an orange haze over the buildings and streets. The alley was foreboding, fire escapes casting strange shadows on the ground from moonlight. As they continued to walk—Cordelia randomly muttering about the puddles—Angel began to notice the steady rise of sounds in front of him. They had gone deeper into the industrial district, and he could definitely smell humans and other sorts of beings. The dark bulk of warehouses came into his vision, a monstrous angled shape, all either closed for the night or abandoned.

The careful walk down the dark alley reminded Angel of less overcast times in contrast earlier, when he had been at the restaurant with Cordy. Being with her was far from the darkness of the alley, her brilliant smile able to shine and warm that dead heart of his. Cordelia talked to him quietly, and he had to admire her voice, her maturity. The Chinese restaurant may have not been glamorous, but only Cordy had an air to make it appear to be. It showed even when she returned to the table to get a soda from the vending machine during a lull in conversation, when her walk slowed. She wobbled slightly then, placing the cans on the table before her body wavered, a rag doll going limp. Angel moved to catch her gracefully, bringing her into his lap, relishing the closeness they deserved but never could fully experience.

He remembered Cordelia’s vision now, the stench of the demons, the cries of help from sobbing girls, and the stillness of the industrial section. Her words came out in a breathless torrent, years of experience making the imagery solidify in her words, bringing him into the vision. He felt his arms wrap around her, smelling the vanilla perfume he bought her, a rich, intense smell clashing with the harsh words spilling from her mouth, her descriptions vivid. Cordy’s breath hastened, a terrible little pant that made Angel feel horrible, the laughter in her eyes gone, the sadness filling them. She soldiered on though, his new love, vision foreboding, mind numb, slight pain lasting during the car ride.

Now the smell was real, not something he’d conjured up as Cordy’s trembling voice spilled out the images in her head. Fear, sweat and blood. No wonder she’d insisted on them getting down here ASAP. Kidnapped girls. It made sense. Wesley did mention that article in the morning newspaper about a recent string of disappearances over the phone. The gang didn’t do much by the way of the normal kinds of things, but her vision… it brought it into perspective. Now, the Powers that Be finally got off their omniscient assi to alert the gang that this wasn’t just a simple find and save case. This was something supernatural.

They needed to get involved.

Angel explained to Cordy that sitting in puddles tonight was for the greater good, for those girl’s lives, but she would just nod. Of course she cared. Girl got over the momentary displeasure and nearly dragged him there herself. The pain of her visions had lifted, but the brutal clarity of suffering and hardship had not. It was just the fact that these days, their times together were more fleeting. This was the third date in the month that had been interrupted due to a case. Like it or not, Cordelia pushed down the desire to be alone with Angel in order to succeed on their cases. It was part of the package, wasn’t it? Relationship. Love. Fighting. Vampire. No sex. Oh, and lots of carnage.

She’d deal. However, this jacket was freakin’ Nordstrom’s material. He’d expect a dent in his wallet later.

“I KNOW you didn’t just mess up my axe, man. This is my *baby*. You gonna have to pay for pullin’ that kinda crap—“

“Be careful,” Angel warned her, his voice low before slinking off quickly, tracing the path of dancing shadows on the warehouse walls. Cordy followed him, watching him vamp out and leap into the fray. Gunn and Wesley were there between two warehouse entrances, axe and sword swinging and flashing.

Cordy smiled at Gunn’s comment, at Angel lunging. So now this was where the fighting came in for the other two. It may have not been the movie theater, but it had to be more entertaining for them. She hefted the stake she’d slipped out of her demon slaying bag. She nearly got a handful of noodles—which, while yummy, weren’t nearly as effective as a stake.

Hmm. Steak. Now she was getting hungry. Maybe she’d get Angel to stop at the 24-hour Denny’s on Fairfax for take-out on the way home.

Would be a great dinner in comparison to the many late, outdoor nights of Angel Investigations.

A light positioned above one entrance was on, bathing the fighters with a light that made it seem like a weird play or the kickoff of a football game: demons on one side, a vampire and two humans on the other.

Cordy watched Angel sweep in, fist lashing out before ducking down under a Merdorian’s claw. He reached out with both hands, pulling the demon’s leg so that it fell, growling in pain, feeling bones snap. Angel jumped up, then had to lean back as far as he was able to, having just avoided being beheaded. It reminded her of The Matrix. Hey, they were showing the sequel in theaters. Maybe she could subtly point him in the direction of taking her to go see it. He may have been her newly appointed boyfriend, a cute and clumsy dork of a vampire, but sometimes he needed a little bit pushing in the right direction.

The fight was brutal and ended shortly after Angel clipped one demon in the face and started to use its natural blades, after merely ripping them out of the demon’s skin.

Cordy wiped her nose, trying to block out the demon stench as all the bodies began to dissolve. She considered mentioning a comment about Windex but figured Angel was more up on Charlton Heston than My Big Fat Greek Wedding. Although, he did pull that Neo move earlier…

“Thank you, Powers that Be. Vision of the day with, not surprisingly, no clients to pay us money. How thoughtful. Gee, you’d think they’d put up some kind of reward. Hey. Y’know, what if they have? They do that a lot. For missing people and stuff. Why aren’t we collecting? We’re doing it for the sake of… champion…things. Okay, I’ve got nothin’. Did I mention how not happy I am about the random demons?” Cordy asked, looking to Wesley.

Shrugging, Wesley scratched his chin. He bent down, placing his sword on the ground nearby while he inspected some of the goo still left on the pavement.

“We should collect samples. Merdorians aren’t normally as aggressive as these were,” Wesley explained.

“They could’ve been hired.” Angel nodded to them. “I’ve seen a few before as bouncers and back-up around here. Could’ve tried to take the girls. They’re not smart enough to take them for themselves.”

“Not like we’re gonna find out where the girls are now.” Gunn pointed to the puddles, the remains of their leads. “Back to square one again.”

Cordelia frowned, looking at the dead creatures’ dissolving entrails. “Ah. Cleaning committee. Just what I was looking forward to.”

“They’re gone. The girls, I mean. I smelled them, and… They would’ve been here, at least in a warehouse to keep them from being found. Not eaten. No smell on the demons. Vanished. Something isn’t right,” Angel agreed, taking another sniff of the air. He rubbed his bicep, forcing himself to go calm, and then his face changed back to human, looking troubled. Angel looked around before gazing at Cordy who was crouching and collecting some gunk with rubber gloves into a Ziploc bag she had brought along. Demon gear bag. Very handy.

“There’s something in the air. Dangerous.” Angel looked up to Wesley and Gunn. The former rubbed his chin once more, looking thoughtful, a three-day stubble grown in. Gunn appeared to be scowling, pointing to the various spots of slime for Cordelia to collect if needed.

“You got that right,” Gunn responded, rubbing the back of his neck.

“I can’t put my finger on what exactly, but... I know we’re probably gonna be busy for the next week, these cases included. The girls are out there. We just have to find them.”

“Oh yay. More fun.”

Ah. Now to go home and forsake sleep. The sun was rising, Angel could tell. He was wounded, Cordelia and the others were cranky, and the case was still unsolved. It just went to show that no matter how many things changed in his life, he could count on the redemption aspects to remain the same.

Some things never changed.

*

“Owww….”

“Oh, quit your whining. I swear, in another life you must have been a woman,” Cordy snapped, wrapping the bandage around Angel’s arm. They were in his room, Angel sitting on the edge of his bed, shadows accentuating his structured jaw while Cordelia scolded him. He stopped talking then, his mouth snapping shut while his eyes narrowed. Angel gave her a look.

She sighed. “And even then, *I* don’t whine as—“

“…Cordy.”

She rolled her eyes. “Okay, well, I do but… it’s justified! You’re supposed to be this big, bad ass vampire, a CHAMPION and all that jazz, but you can’t take a couple of love bites! What are you trying to do? Kill me?” Cordelia smoothed the bandage gently into place, trying not to elicit further whining out of the poor boy.

“Getting your bicep lacerated by some demon who doesn’t know proper dental hygiene is not a ‘love bite’,” Angel pointed out, stretching his neck, his eyes rolling upwards as she continued her poking and prodding.

“Pffft. Men. ‘Oh, look at me, I’m Angel! I’ll go off and climb into sewers and wreck my leather jacket just to get beaten up. I’ll look all sweaty and manly in the process!’” She mocked flapping an invisible duster on purpose, her voice low and moody to imitate Angel. “That’s the thing about you guys. You’ll just jump in. Clothes ripped? Buy some more. Bites? It’s ‘manly’! Now see, if you were a girl, then you’d have more common sense—or at least look before you leap. Then again… You *clearly* don’t have any common sense, do you?” Before he could give a snappy response, Cordy poked his shoulder.

“Choose your words carefully,” the seer warned.

“…But I thought you liked that,” Angel deadpanned, trying not to point out the obvious “going into sewers is one of the job requirements” thing. “You do, don’t you?”

“I like it when you buy me shoes,” Cordelia told him, raising an eyebrow as she cut the bandage. “I like it when you make me breakfast. When you wear your leather pants and you’re NOT evil. But most of all? I like it when you come home and you’re still in one piece.”

Angel smiled crookedly, innocent, an expression he alone could use without her not saying something snarky, only smile instead. He leaned back, letting Cordelia give him a disapproving look before leaning to kiss his lips. Glancing at the bedside, she saw she slimy jacket, memories of the interrupted date and subsequent alley lurking time coming into the surface of her mind.

“You *so* owe me for this…”

*

Her lips were soft and lovely against his, and as Angel pulled back, he felt a smile creep onto his face. Angel readjusted his chair, sitting across from her. The two were at a restaurant, a plate of food before Cordy, a quaint little flower arrangement between them. It was new and different. Not that trendy place she threw up sashimi at, but a nice Japanese restaurant. He’d seen it before during one of their many missions, driving by it while on the road to meet some demon.

The place had just opened earlier in the month, the clients pouring in, a steady stream that chatted over sushi and sake. Angel was thankful that the restaurant had no mirrors, instead merely dark lighting, candles, and large, spacious rooms. The entire place covered a block, including the courtyard outside. He remembered the flash of bonsai trees he had seen arriving when thinking of the space issue inside the large dining room.

Being stuck in a box for three months under the ocean would make anyone fear small spaces.

Cordelia picked up a piece of sushi with her chopsticks, dipping it into a mixture of soy sauce and wasabi before popping it into her mouth. Her hair had grown out long again, at Angel’s unintended request and her wish to get things back to normal. To old times. Times before she went psycho and tried to take over the world…

But that was another story.

She wore a lovely red dress he had bought her a few days earlier. Flowing silk with intricately sewn golden accents, Japanese characters of good luck and fluffy clouds and trees. Angel opted for the basic black as usual, but he looked damn good in it. He owned it, as Gunn would say regarding his own suit.

“I can’t believe you managed to get us in here,” Cordelia blurted, that big smile of hers making Angel’s heart warm up from its eternal coldness. “This place is packed – it’s on the hot list!”

“I figured you deserved it after your uh, jacket thing, and the fact that we haven’t had a long time to ourselves in weeks.” Angel traced the rim of his glass, leaning forward. He hadn’t ordered anything for himself save for the sake because new places meant high prices. So she hadn’t mentioned his cheapness yet, but he’d be quick to reply that they didn’t exactly serve his drink of choice.

Cordelia nodded. “What with… everything. Yeah.”

“Are you okay, Cordelia? …Are you – uh, are you happy?”

She placed her chopsticks down, wiping her mouth with a napkin before placing it on the table. Cordy reached out her fingers to clench Angel’s hand across the table. “Now why would you ask me something like that?”

“After Jasmine, and you… the coma – we brought you back, yeah, and we’ve worked on it. It wasn’t you. You know that. I know that. But I can’t help feeling guilty,” Angel began, shaking his head slowly when Cordy opened her mouth to interrupt. “No matter how many times you say it, I still think it’s my own fault for hiring you.”

Oh, how time and been pulled events twisted and yanked by unseen forces, leading to her ascension and downfall into murder. But it wasn’t her, just her body carrying out the actions of something so wicked and terrible, it made her shudder just thinking about it.

“What else would you had done? Let me go on an endless string of auditions until I collapse from exhaustion, yet inevitably getting someone in-the-know and before you know it, you’d be watching me get my Emmy while you’re all sitting at home with the blood belly and STILL jonesing for little Miss Fashion Victim?”

Angel stared, narrowing his eyes. He had picked up one of the restaurant’s business cards from the table, flipping it easily on his fingers. “Why you went out with Xander, I will never know. And I do not have a blood belly. And I wouldn’t—”

“Easy tiger.” She stroked his wrist with her thumb, rubbing gently. His tense manner seemed to lessen at her action. “This isn’t about Xander or my overactive imagination. This is about you, isn’t it? You’re worried about us and about me – about you, right?”

Angel raised an eyebrow. Sure by now he translated most Cordy-ese, but this was a new case. “…Uh, I—“

“Angel. I know I put you through a lot of crap this year, and I’m sorry for that. We’re even…now. You’ve killed people and I – I did… that…” Angel’s hand squeezed her own, that puppy dog look. He was silent, and that gave her strength, his eyes, as always. “But… let’s just try to forget about it. Okay? At least for tonight. Forget you’re a vampire, I’m a vision girl. We’re just two ordinary people having—okay, one ordinary girl have food while her boyfriend keeps - eyeing all… the… strangers…”

Cordy reached over and smacked his shoulder, then pointed at him, her eyes narrowing. “You better not pull that shroud thing again!”

“It looked very similar,” Angel protested, his eyes scanning the different people at their tables, eating, those walking to the tables. He turned his head, noticing some couples go arm in arm, out of the back entrance into the courtyard. Taking a last sip of his sake, Angel stood up, throwing some cash on the table before offering a hand to Cordelia.

Angel jerked his head in the direction of the doors. “Wanna take a walk?”

The furrowed brow gone, a slow smile appearing, Cordelia put her napkin on the table. Standing up to take his hand, the smile grew, a rising sun. She laced her arm through his, letting him escort her to the door. They walked out of the restaurant, stepping into the perfect midnight picture of Asian bliss.

The cobblestone path was crooked and in some places overgrown with weeds, but it was the lovely trees—everyday ones, bonsai and other foreign ones—and the stunning architecture of small pagodas far off that made Cordelia’s heart catch in her throat. In fact, two of the buildings were perpendicular to the back entrance of the restaurant, pagodas that had openings at the bottom for staircase, a small stone walled bridge running along and connecting them both on the second floor, a semi circle opening underneath the bridge.

Cordy shivered, regretting her decision to not bring a jacket along. Still, pressing against Angel gave her no comfort, for he was colder than she was. Dead, handsome, and courteous, escorting her along the path past a small fountain. They were slowly coming up to the pagodas, her eyes darting this way and that to look at the foliage, the random carved stone statues of dragons, and other monsters. The chain of pools running along near the entrances, varied of shape and size.

Angel sighed contentedly, cocking his head at the sound of rustling in the trees. Wind, carrying the sweet smell of food, flowers, and something unrecognizable in the air. And Cordelia, cuddling up next to him, taking a tranquil stroll. It was this peace he yearned for after all this time. This peace he missed, even when good. It had been so long since he was in love, complete and utterly, and did NOT have something insane or chatty or rude or slimy try to break up the moment. It made him happy, but not dangerously happy.

That sort of thing always led to trouble.

Speaking of trouble…

The vampire stopped walking, making Cordy stop on a dime, all those long years of practice in high heels paying off. He heard it again. The rustling. The—

“Someone screamed,” Cordy whispered, pulling away from Angel. “There it is again!”

Angel nodded, his calm look over, curiosity in place. He heard another piercing scream, nodding to the left pagoda down the courtyard. “In there.”

He took off at a fast run, Cordelia following behind, having trouble with her heels. Angel bounded up the staircase, skipping two, three steps at a time. The tunnel leading up was dark, but not enough so that he couldn’t see—he was a vampire after all, and saw better in the dark. The wallpaper was dark crimson, almost black, intricate designs etched on the surface. There were windows up front, and to his right, and as Angel turned to the right they were on either side. In front of him a man wearing an expensive beige colored tailored suit was choking a young woman.

The man’s hair was pulled back in a ponytail, a thin mustache, Asian features. Meanwhile the girl was clawing at his wrists, trying to scream, wearing a simple dark green cocktail dress that matched her dark auburn hair.

“Help me!” she managed to choke out, eyes locking on Angel’s.

Angel strode forward, hearing Cordelia clack up the staircase behind him. He lashed out a leg to kick the man in the back but there was no effect. The man didn’t move at all. Instead he merely smiled, letting go of the girl by throwing her into the wall quite hard with a flick of his wrist. Rushing to dive and catch her, instead Angel skidded, seeing the girl pass through the wall, surface rippling before it became normal and non-wobbly again.

A confused expression, Angel turned—too slow—to feel a fist connect with his face. His head spun, black dots and daggers in his eyes and brain, at the sheer force of the blow. Angel collected himself, sending a right hook to the man’s temple and a kick to his solar plexus, making the man stagger back.

Smiling cruelly, his opponent lunged at him. They parried blow for blow, Angel throwing punches and kicks, the man seeming to be impressed by any martial art move Angel used. Of course he had his own arsenal—whether it was his hard fists or boots, he shot at Angel like a snake, snap kicking, leaping and slashing with the finesse of a martial arts master. They kept moving, Angel pushing the man towards the balcony at the far end of the pagoda, walled with shiny ceiling to floor glass and red wooden railings, carefully tended decorative bushes beneath. Cordelia followed, unsure of whether to jump in or not, the dizzying moves a blur to her eyes.

They pulled back after a few long, hard minutes fighting, Angel standing in front of Cordelia, not standing up straight fully. If this kept up…

“Angel…” Cordy bit her lip, her hand raised to touch Angel’s shoulder.

“Stay behind me, Cordy. I’m not going to let you get hurt,” Angel told her, taking a glance back at her—ooh, she’d let him have it for that all maleness attitude later—he turned back to the Asian man. A smile crossed handsome features. With a flick of the wrist, much like the same style of a magician, he produced a thin shaft of bamboo. No longer than a pencil, dark and lacquered.

“A fetching catch, vampire,” the man said in perfect English, a slight accent. Japanese. “…She’ll make a good bride.”

He raised the bamboo shaft to his lips, head titled in the direction of Cordelia.

Dart, Angel thought, and in that moment he made his decision.

He ran.

Angel leaped, nearly plowing into some bushes in the process, feeling the poison dart connect with his shoulder. Cordelia’s eyes snapped shut tight as she braced for the blow behind him. His momentum carried him crashing through the glass, past the bushes and over the red painted railing. Angel fell, feeling splintered wood and shattered glass come down with him, falling out fast and far, a dozen meters or so away to fall unceremoniously into one of the pools on the ground floor, obsidian surface disturbed by the big splash. Glass and wooden shrapnel rained down just as the last bit of his jacket went down and under.

“Angel!” Cordy shouted, darting over to what was left of the railing, her eyes wide.

The man looked around, a displeased look at the loud noise and crashing that blundering idiot had caused. Too much attention. Attention he did not need. Not if he wanted to complete his task.

He had to. His life depended on it.

“… You’ll be busy enough as it is,” the man said casually, glancing to the pool with a smirk on his face. It was rather deeper than Cordelia expected, for Angel fell into it and went fully under, no bubbles of air, only ripples. The man took one long, hard look at her, equal hatred in her eyes after spinning to look at him before she took off down the hallway and made her way to the courtyard. She could hear a laugh behind her, knowing he was now gone.

Running down the staircase and trying not to trip over her long, red silk dress, Cordelia looked up again, only to see that the man was gone from the long balcony. Tripping was a constant annoyance that Cordy did not have time for. As she ran, she pulled off her high heels darting across the broad expanse of gravel towards the pool. The edge was raised, a little slope around it, only about a foot high. She skidded to a stop, leaning forward, hands pressing the ankle loops of her heels to her knees.

“Angel! Angel, can you hear me?!”

She saw nothing, and soon murmured about ruining her dress. Right when Cordelia was about to jump in, a single ripple disturbed the surface. Then another. And another.

A burst of water cut through the air, splashing Cordy in the face and making her backpedal. Just as she was about to complain regarding her soaked condition, a head broke through the surface, gasping, arms waving. A sheen of water coated everything after the sprinkle, Cordelia staring, open mouthed.

The person that stared back had long, luxurious dark hair plastered wet on the forehead. Brown eyes were wide, set in a sculpted face with high cheekbones, soft and delicate lips, all decidedly feminine. Dark and wet clothes hung loosely on a tall, but well built frame, curvy but graceful, slightly lanky.

Completely and utterly female.

“ANGEL?!” Cordy shouted as the person wiped her eyes, brushing back a long wet clump of hair. She stared, pulling the black dress shirt outwards to look down at her chest, then back up, eyes hectic.

“What…the… Cordelia!” the young woman shouted, brow furrowed as she swam to the edge of the pool. Clinging to the edge, the water making her bob up and down, she swallowed down the lump in her throat.

Cordy leaned forward once more, unsure whether to laugh or cry.

She settled for sarcastic surprise.

“Angel? Is that you?!” She tried to search the water for a sign of him down there, disappointed to find the liquid crystal clear and sparkling in the moonlight at further inspection.

“Cordelia,” she repeated again, her voice a trifle deep but definitely feminine. “Are you okay?”

“Forget about me! Angel, you’re a girl!”

“I know,” Angel said tolerantly, reaching over to pull the dart out of her slight shoulder. For the briefest of moments her face shifted, vampire mode before fading away to consternation because of the sharp pain. “Still a vampire. Come on. Let’s–“ She winced. “…Get home before more of those…guys come – back.”

Frowning, Cordelia helped pull Angel up and out, and with Angel’s arm around her shoulder, both of the girls limped to the car parked outside.

This was going to be a long night.

---

Part 2: Driving Ms. Cranky

“Are you—“

“Keep on driving, Cordelia,” Angel told her, peeling off her wet jacket. She shivered, pressing a handkerchief from her suit jacket on the shoulder wound, while Cordelia kept on glancing at her, barely focusing on the road, the darkened Los Angeles streets.

They finally reached a stoplight, Cordy turning to look fully at Angel. The firm clenched jaw, the brooding eyes were there. But this Angel was different—he’s a woman—and looked very out of place in the dark clothing she wore. She was curvy for one thing, voluptuous but not fat, and not a twig either. Solid, leaning towards the thin side. Face long, determined, eyes straight ahead. However, as much as Cordelia wanted to deny it, it had to be him—no one else was in the pool. No one could have switched places, taken his clothes, some of his looks, and make Angel disappear. As much as it freaked—absolutely freaked—Cordelia out, it was Angel.

“Way to go with the calm,” Cordy began, her fingers clenching the wheel harder. “Because hey, I remember going off on a date with my boyfriend, and somehow not returning home explaining why I’ve suddenly turned gay!”

Angel narrowed her eyes.

“Could you please explain to me as to WHY you’re not saying ANYTHING?!”

“Because my instincts tell me to start a bitch off, and I’m really not in the mood for that at the moment,” Angel responded, deadpan. The voice threw Cordy off, but not by much, because it still had that powerful—if not sarcastic and calculated—tone to it.

Sighing loudly, Cordy pressed on the gas since the light changed to green. She kept her eyes on the road this time, going a little past the speed limit in order to reach the hotel as soon as possible. Having Angel like that made her feel like there was a stranger in the car. Uncomfortable.

Strangely attracted.

“Oh crap…”

Voice low, Cordy tried not to look at Angel directly. Angel instead busied herself with wringing out her jacket, which now seemed rather large. Avoiding Cordelia’s eyes, she instead tried to focus on the small task. She was uncharacteristically quiet about it, and had her reasons. All that Cordelia had said earlier came true, Angel had to admit. Now she was a girl. This wasn’t good. The look in Cordelia’s eyes, the fidgeting, the snapped comments showed her displeasure, amplified from nagging a while ago to full-on distaste.

Angel tried to maintain her calm, but it was slipping. They needed to get home… figure this out. And fast. And if Wesley couldn’t change her back…. No, he could. She’d been a beast, been another person before, but Angel pulled through it with her friends. This time was no different.

She hoped.

“Cordelia—“

“We’re here,” Cordy said, turning off the ignition and jumping out of the car. She then quickly went around, grabbing Angel by her sleeve and yanking her out of the car. It was rather easy, given the similar build now, although Angel was still a bit taller than her. No matter. Wesley would be there, Cordelia knew, pushing Angel inside, hands placed on her back. Wesley…well, he could fix anything.

Almost anything.

“WESLEY! Get your English bred butt down here! Now!” Cordy shouted, her voice echoing against the cavernous hotel lobby’s walls. Angel shifted in place before taking off in the direction of the bathroom inside the office.

“Where do you think you’re going? Don’t tell me you have to—“

“I need water. To clean this,” Angel responded, pointing to her shoulder. When she got a look from Cordy, she went on, “And since I fell into that pool, which, who knows what’s in that stuff… Hey, it IS an evil courtyard maintained by a possible evil… doer. So. Could be poisonous.”

“You just wanna take a look at your boobs again before he comes, don’t ya,” Cordy said, and without the smirk, she looked very serious about that, too.

“I just want to clean this. That’s all.”

Angel went to the bathroom door, muttering “Perv” before she went in.

“I heard that!”

*

Angel moved to the sink, hesitating. She glanced at the mirror before going over to it, the wall behind her showing. A sigh of relief emanated from wet lips, reminding her that she was still a vampire. Albeit, female. If it wasn’t for the girl thing, the bloodthirsty urge was still in her as well. Some things never changed.

“And sometimes they do.”

Eyes snapping shut, longing for the relief of this slow torture to end, Angel opened the faucet, feeling steam rise up from the hot water. Swirls of smoke wafted up, hot, just what she wanted, clear and piercing. She placed her hands in it; let the hot liquid course over her fingers, before rubbing her eyes.

Angel opened her eyes, seeing nothing, but feeling the overhanging forehead, the cheekbones and strong jaw that belonged to him. Normally. Looking down, the chest, muscular and trim, straining against the dress shirt. The arms, the legs, all built, all tall, and it was then that Angel could see he was himself again. He. Himself.

“I’m me…” His voice was low, a barely audible whisper, but it was male.

Angel turned his head to the door, a grin crossing his face as he moved towards it. He could hear raised voices, and decided to pause, listening. Vampire hearing had let him in from the conversation as soon as Cordy went upstairs, but it was his distraction at finding that he was male again that deterred him from giving his full attention. She was talking about what had occurred at the restaurant.

“…So then he falls into this pool after he takes this like, poison dart or whatever, for – me, unlike some people….” A general grumbling, Wesley murmuring to get on with it. “And then Angel pops up and poof! Guess what? NOT Angel. We’re talking *Angela*. He’s—She’s in the bathroom right now.”

“Cordelia, while you may find some pleasure in that, there’s the current case—“ The sound of smacking against flimsy paper, a hand hitting a newspaper for emphasis. “The young women are still missing. The newspaper has a front-page article about it. We need to find them before anything horrible happens to them, and resolve your vision—“

Gunn smacked Wesley’s shoulder, indicating for him to shut it. The young black man canted his head, looking incredulously at Cordelia.

“Whoa, whoa. Wait a minute.” Gunn put his palms out, a “slow down” gesture before he raised an eyebrow. “You tellin’ me after that dart hit him, Angel turned into a girl?” Gunn asked, a hint of sarcasm in his voice. “No. For real? Full on sex change? We talkin’ boobs, ass, the whole package?”

“We’ll be talkin’ smacking if you call it a ‘package’,” Cordy snapped, a defensive tone.

“Okay, okay! But man—I would’ve paid to see THAT!”

“Save your money Gunn,” Angel piped up, opening the bathroom door to step out, closing it softly behind him. Gunn looked disappointed, Wesley slightly flustered, and Cordy shocked.

“What?!” Cordelia exclaimed, coming over and poking Angel hard, as if to check if he was real.

Rubbing the back of his neck—yep, all nice and male him, short hair—Angel winced at her poking. He rubbed his arms, folding them across his chest before letting them dangle by his sides. The normal, calm stance had been interrupted, ripples in a pond, and now he remained uncomfortable.

“You know not to play with my hopes like that,” Gunn said to Cordy, looking sad while shaking his head slowly.

“Everything’s fine. Let’s just forget about it, okay Cordy?” Angel asked, his tone of voice sweet but condescending.

The girl looked like she’d smack Angel any second now.

“Angel—“

“Nevertheless, we should check out that wound in case it is poisonous,” Wesley said, taking out the first aid kit from the desk nearby. Angel shucked off his trench and unbuttoned his black dress shirt, happy to see the bare chest. Bare, being the key word here. He took his shirt off halfway, so that it hung from his arms, going over to sit on the banquette in the middle of the Hyperion. Wesley touched the wound gingerly, squinting to look at it while applying antiseptic.

“Oh no you didn’t,” Cordy said evenly, regaining her voice, walking over to Angel. “I know what happened, and you’re not going to cover—“

“Whether or not Angel did change, I think it best for us to treat this before it happens again,” Wesley cut in. Cordelia fumed, mouth on the verge of blurting that it was real, not a hallucination whatsoever. She didn’t want to give Angel the satisfaction of him being innocent and right and… damn… it. Damn it.

“I did feel a little shaky earlier,” Angel added, looking uneasy.

“Demon mojo workin’ on your insides,” Gunn surmised, tracing his fingers along the counter top.

Angel nodded, and seemed to finally look at his surroundings. He looked to Cordy, brow furrowed. “Where’s Connor?”

“He went with Fred to check out some books,” Gunn answered in her place, a dark look. Sure, he and Fred were no longer together, but that didn’t deter him from disliking Connor being alone with her. Boy freaked him out sometimes.

“Found it!” Wesley exclaimed, pulling a tiny shard from Angel’s wound with a pair of tweezers. The vampire flinched, confusingly eyeing the small piece.

“I thought I took it all out?”

“Apparently, it embedded itself, perhaps coming apart on impact. Not to worry now, since given your current state of health, the poison must be flushed out of your system by now at the rate you’re healing.”

Cordy held out a petri dish, one of Fred’s, for Wesley to place the shard in.

“Hold it.”

“What?”

“HOLD IT!” The dish slipped from her hands, Wesley dodging to grab it while Angel leapt to catch Cordelia, a heavy sigh tearing from her lips. He helped her to the banquette, her eyes snapped shut. They opened once more and instead of the lovely dark hazel, milky white was in its place.

“Park – McArthur. Couple of kids. Demons coming towards them… There’s a girl. The girl. Watch out for her. Oh God, watch out!” Cordy cried, fingers clenching, body in movement as if to ward off danger. “You need to get there, and fast!”

“Let’s go,” Angel said to the others, adjusting Cordelia, brushing a hand against her brow gently. This was different—she wasn’t supposed to feel pain, at least, not anymore. It gave rise to his suspicions of added demon activity the night before. Maybe…maybe the normal non-fuss had been replaced by amplified, skull crushing to emphasize how urgent the vision was.

At least, that’s what he wanted to hope. They were never too sure about the visions these days.

She nodded, fingertips touching her temples, signaling for him to go. Gunn and Wesley were already at the weapons cabinet, taking out an axe and a sword respectively. Angel joined them by the door quickly, offering a worried look in Cordelia’s direction before he took off with the others.

Let her be safe.

*

The park was unusually quiet this evening, save for the stray car that blew past. There were no boom boxes, only those teenagers Cordelia mentioned in her vision. Angel pulled up less than a half a block away, leaning forward in the driver’s seat. They all looked half decent, reminding him of those kids Gunn used to hang out with when he first met the gang leader. Things had changed so much since then. Now Gunn’s gang was no longer in his control, and he chose to remain with the Angel Investigations team out of his own free will.

It wasn’t leading, but he helped to fight the core evil that plagued the streets.

“Let’s go,” Angel instructed Gunn and Wesley, the former looking moody. They hefted their weapons, exiting the car and trying to close the doors quietly so as to not attract too much attention. Before Gunn could say anything, Angel said, “It’s better to be there beforehand instead of just reacting to what they dish out.”

“I know man, but it’s not that. I know these kids. At least, some of ‘em. They’re from the gang and others are new. This ain’t their patrol area,” Gunn said, brow furrowing as the three men hurried over. The teenagers were now milling outside the park, some leaning on cars near the curb. It was a rag tag bunch of kids, some poor, others not, some bullies, one girl the head of her junior year class. One could see the flash and glint of polished wooden stakes, crossbows, chains and bats, a homemade arsenal. They were on patrol, and unfortunately, chose the wrong night to wander off course.

“Hey Gunn!”

One girl—that top of her class one—called out to him, waving. She then stopped abruptly when a large, scaly arm reached out to cover her mouth, trying to pull her up into the trees towards the inside of the park fence. Suddenly there was shouting as more similar demons dropped down, all bright and muscled. They reminded Angel of a pack of highlighters: bright green, yellow, orange, blue. Squat, a reptilian head, barrel shaped body and powerful arms. Synthar demons. Not a surprise.

Angel had no time to chitchat with the teens, instead yelling an order at Wesley to protect them. They managed to hold their own though, using the weapons to their best ability while Wesley hacked one demon repeatedly with his sword. Gunn pulled his axe out of another Synthar’s neck, feeling a slight tickle on his brow. He glanced up briefly before ducking and rolling, realizing it was starting to rain. So trivial, a thought flickering through his mind that he should have brought his windbreaker after hearing a chance of showers.

“Watch out!”

Turning, Angel could see a Synthar barreling towards him, waving its arms wildly to take a bite out of him. The vampire shot his hands out as he jumped up, grabbing the top of the gate fence to pull and flip himself back onto the rim of it, just as the thing collided into the metal. Angel wavered slightly, getting his bearings before shoving his broad sword’s point through the creature’s brain.

He felt a thick hand clamp onto his ankle, dragging him down harshly to slam onto the concrete. Angel shook his head, fighting back the stars in his eyes, wondering whether he heard something crack in his skull or not. This new Synthar, hide a deep orange closed its fists around Angel’s neck, squeezing. The vampire could almost laugh at its stupidity, as he didn’t need to breathe.

That wouldn’t prevent the Synthar from popping his head off, however.

Aiming his legs up, Angel kicked out cruelly, slamming the demon in the midsection to make it backpedal. Jumping to his feet, Angel roared, a bestial sound coming from deep down. Soft lips that kissed his love tenderly, parted to reveal fangs. He charged forward, plowing into the demon and giving it a hard right hook to the jaw. Angel continued for a couple of beats, ignoring the sounds of fighting around him. They were a blur to his eyes and ears, his prey weak, almost dead, but not quite.

Angel kept on punching, feeling a tap on his trench coat. So light, he barely noticed. Then another. And another. Tippity-tap, tip tip—Now he felt one speck on his fist, knuckles once white now streaked with dark blood. Gunn shouted something to him, trying to move to him despite the melee. The raindrops mixed in, another, ten more, and soon a light drizzle began, which grew rapid and wetter with each passing minute. The bloodlust fueled and climaxed in him, making him collapse over the creature, crouching and trying to regain control.

“All right! You got them! Good job,” Gunn said, congratulatory tone there, bright smile flashing in the dark night. He gave high fives to some teenagers, patting others on the back. The teenagers murmured and smiled, some talking, others quiet, others nursing wounds, offering hugs and jokes. Wesley was standing a few feet away from Angel, wiping his forehead with the sleeve of his dark jacket. Bodies had fallen, none human, needing to be carried away, dumped. The usual clean up.

Gunn clamped a hand on his friend’s shoulder, getting a small smile in response. There were hardly any words to describe that fulfilling feeling, that inexplicable joy despite wounds and pain when they helped others. Wesley felt that completely, nothing ambiguous at the moment, and Gunn could see that far off look of his, the old, quiet Wesley for a moment. He missed it.

“Gunn. Yolanda’s missing,” one boy said, coming up to him. Spanish, a bandana wrapped on his head. Gunn flicked his shoulder, telling him to tell the other teens to spread out and look for her.

“They can’t. She disappeared.” Wesley pointed to the fence, Gunn seeing a bit of a shimmering quality to it. Then the shimmering faded, the fence whole again. “One of the Synthars threw her in. I tried to get there but – it was too late…”

“That’s five in two days we couldn’t get. More girls missing,” Gunn said, frowning. “Just like Cordy was talking about. A portal.”

“It’s connected,” Wesley agreed.

Gunn let out a deep sigh. “Damn. Portals. Again.”

He turned to look at Angel, seeing the black duster pool around his crouched form. Gunn squinted, trying not to let the water get into his eyes. “You all right, man?”

“Not necessarily.”

Angel stood up, turning to look at them slowly. They stared in shock, not finding the familiar vampire, but a female in his place. Tall and beautiful, dark eyes, long dark hair, thin yet curvy form even visible despite the slightly baggy shirt and jeans. She flexed a hand; lips set in a thin line, shaking off the blood from her knuckles and letting the rain wash it off. Angel placed a strand of hair behind his ear, bending down to pick up her sword before passing between both males in the direction of the car, her eyes lowered.

“We’re gonna have a problem,” she called, walking briskly to the GTX.

Gunn and Wesley exchanged startled glances, staring at the beautiful girl before catching up with her.

*

“Angel,” Cordelia repeated slowly, leaning against the bathroom door. She stroked the surface gently with her fingertips, head and shoulder resting against it. One eye remained on the doorknob, the other on Wesley and Gunn, books open, reading. Cordy knocked on the door again, sighing exaggeratedly.

“Angel, please. Come out.”

“I’m not coming out, Cordelia,” Angel responded, her voice muffled inside the small bathroom. Cordelia detected a faux sound to it… Angel lowered it on purpose, trying to match her own normal, male voice. Which was entirely different, silk and honey that melted Cordy’s icy walls, not this feminine copy. “Not until we fix this.”

“You do know that in order to fix it we need to out here? Researching? Helping? Participating in a ‘shake-your-booty’ rain dance to get rid of the boobs?”

A pause, and then Angel said, “That’s what you guys are for. Researching. Visions. I’m just the ch—.”

“Watch the ‘c’ word. We’ve already had enough with the Powers That Screw You. Besides, I’m just the messenger,” Cordy retorted. “I didn’t ask to be reading about the finer intricacies of Synthar demons while you’re all Commando.”

Another pause. She swore she could see Angel fidgeting. “But Cordy, I’m… I’m… I can’t!”

Oh God. Now he’s whining. So not what I’m in the mood to hear from a ch—hero. Hero, damn it.

“Unspeakable evil might be going on, and all you can do is mope around in the bathroom? What are you, at the prom or something?”

“Cordelia!”

Cordy sighed, voice now soothing. “The Angel I know would be outside leading, making conclusions, and generally looking broody.”

Angel closed her eyes, a soft, crooked smile.

“Open up.”

The door opened slowly, Angel hesitant, Cordelia behind it, hands on her hips. She took a hard look at Angel, scrutinizing her appearance. Taller than Cordelia still, the strong frame, the chocolate brown eyes, the crooked smile barely there. Yet the feminine curves were evident despite the baggy clothing. Which was still wet. She was embarrassed. Wet, bruised, and self-conscious. Then, Cordelia’s expression softened.

“Angel. I love you,” Cordy told her, the vampire realizing it was one of the few times she said it, and really meant it. Not the kind of joking around, I love you, give me your credit card thing. Being female at the time made it all the much more worse.

“I love you,” she repeated with emphasis. “For you. Boobs included. I don’t care you’re a girl. So, you’re female. Get over it. We have to save the world. Now, come here.”

Cordy held her arms out, Angel not moving. With an eye roll, Cordy gave her a hug tightly, startling Angel until she relaxed in Cordelia’s embrace. She could hear Gunn ‘aww-ing’ appreciatively in the background. Rolling her eyes at Gunn, her hands moved to rub Angel’s back, the corners of her lips tugging into a smile. Cordy pulled away a little after a moment, nodding to the lobby.

“You gonna go brood or what?”

“Thanks Cordy,” Angel responded, a small grin.

*

The front door clicked shut, Connor and Fred coming down the staircase. Fred looked energized, Connor that usual brand of sulking, seemed to smile at her peppy demeanor.

“Book trip went well?” Gunn called from inside the office, not the least bit casual. He still didn’t care if Connor was Angel’s son—the boy had been naughty these past few months, and he wasn’t gonna let his eye off of him. Ever. Especially when it came to Fred.

“We cleaned the place out – of books, I mean,” Connor added, watching Fred dart happily into the office with an armload of new but ancient books. Gunn smiled at her energy, watching her put books away, bending and jumping up near the bookcase as she did it.

Wesley looked up from behind the counter as Connor approached, albeit hesitantly. He stared at the young woman leaning forward on the counter, her hair pulled back in a simple long ponytail. His own eyes lowered from her dark brown ones to see that she was wearing a maroon shirt—my shirt—slightly tighter on her, maybe his pants as well but the counter obscured her from the hips down.

It didn’t obscure her chest, his shirt not all that loose on her, but perhaps—

“Who’s that?” Connor asked, voice flat but that usual mix of a smirk, sly interest and suspicion were present.

He felt a sharp twang, rubbing the back of his head to straighten the longish hair while wincing. Cordy had come up from behind and smacked him upside the head, giving him a sarcastic look.

“Down boy. I’m not evil. Which, therefore, gives you no excuse to blame me for your hormones dragging you into deep demon poo.” She nodded to the girl as she sat down on the banquette in the center of the lobby with a tired sigh.

“That’s your father. Oh, and by the way Connor? One, eww, and two? You so need to get a hobby.”

Connor’s eyes went wide, coming over to stare at Angel who shifted uncomfortably, raising an eyebrow.

“Angel? What the hell happened to you?”

“Long story, Connor. And by the way, thanks for the clothes.”

“But—“

“I seem to recall you borrowing his shirt if I’m not mistaken,” Wesley said, not looking up. Connor sighed, plopping himself in one of the desk chairs, sulking. Fred walked over to Connor, having heard the conversation, and took a look at Angel. She frowned, but catching herself, smiled and walked over. Angel glanced at her, a small smile. Even then, Fred was still the same—forever curious, caring and—apparently poking Angel’s breast to check if it was real or something.

“Fred—Fred, please.” Angel flicked her hand away. Fred fixed her glasses on her nose, looking up and fidgeting, taking a few steps back in that half-scared, half-interested way of hers.

“Sorry,” she murmured, then looked to Gunn.

“Well, we’ll still have someone to carry on the family brood if this falls through,” Gunn called, leaning on the office doorway.

“Anything?” Wesley looked troubled.

“A whole lot of nada,” he answered. “Haven’t tried the ‘net—“

“Do it,” Wes instructed, flipping a page.

Gunn raised a thumb, Connor getting up. He moved to slide into the chair, but Fred beat him to it. The better for them all since Fred was the resident computer whiz. Gunn? The muscle. That’s all. She clicked the Internet Explorer icon while Gunn looked on, standing near her. Connor went to lean over Angel’s shoulder, scanning the page she was reading.

“There’s more missing girls.” Fred clicked on the local Los Angeles newspaper website, Gunn looking over her shoulder. “Besides the three we tried to save last night, the two tonight, four haven’t shown up to work and other things, says their families, friends and co-workers.”

“All successful. One’s a doctor, one’s a lawyer, teacher…” Gunn trailed off. He picked up a bag of chips from the desk, starting to munch on some. “Damn.”

Connor cleared his throat. “…Dad—“

“Yes, I’m a girl. I have breasts. Big whoop. It’s a curse. Tryin’ to fix it. And, if you haven’t noticed by now, Cordy and Fred have them too.”

Cordelia mumbled something, lying back with her hands on her face, exhausted. Angel smacked her forehead ruefully, a small little smile.

“I heard that,” Angel said casually, not looking up.

Wesley closed his book with a huff, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “Can we please concentrate on the issues at hand here? Angel. Cordelia. Both of you. Try to remember what we have to do. There may not be a year round solution to this. It could be permanent. The sooner we solve this, the better,” Wesley told them, frowning.

“So just in case you’re looking forward to peeing standing up again, may want to pay attention,” Gunn added, shoving the bag of chips into Connor’s hands while feigning a look of innocence.

Angel tried to find the correct words. “I – don’t—“

“Wesley’s right,” Cordy cut in, waving her hair from her face. She knew Wesley meant well, but now he had to get all mean when they went off on a tangent. He was right. They needed to be researching and not staring. Especially Gunn. Boy was nearly leering. Egh. Besides the fact that she—Angel—was acting like a total smart ass, she was still the brooding, all too hot vampire. She needed him, she had to admit.

Cordy straightened fully, touching her back gingerly.

No one gave massages like he did.

---

Part 3: Gumshoes. Whatever

“Don’t see why we all have to cater to his every beck and call. ‘Oh, I’m not feeling well.’ ‘Oh, I’m a giiiiirl, pity me.’ I bet you see me as a guy and these dumb asses wouldn’t lift a finger unless they were coerced to. And so, I make coffee. It’s always back to square one for me,” Cordelia murmured, mostly to herself, but then again not caring if the others heard or not. Angel would.

“Little Miss Throw-your-feelings-out-the-window-for-a-blonde-‘cause-it’s-the-end-of-the-world is telling me I’m not as good looking. Muttering dolt. I’m the weird one.” Cordelia slammed the container of water onto the mini counter area, starting to pour the liquid into the coffee maker pot. Wesley and Gunn were busy making the most out of their reading time while Fred locked her eyes onto the Internet. Connor, detached from it all, was fixing the weapons cabinet.

And Angel?

She could care less. Care less to see that set of breasts nearly smack in her face when she turned with the pot of now hot water in her hand, spilling most of it all over Angel’s chest.

Chest, and look, no boobs either.

Angel pulled back, trying to remember the ‘no scaring’ rule again. But it was useless, or at least not important, as Cordelia looked at him like he had two heads. Only this time he was same, different, all at once. He was the all too good looking, brooding vampire, the usual spiky hair and chiseled features, all of him male and towering over her.

“Cord—“ Angel paused, looking down at himself, running his fingers through his hair. “Again?”

Her eyes bulged, pushing past him where the others were now staring. “I think I know how it works now!”

“Good, ‘cause you better explain before I throw out the idea of Angel dressin’ up,” Gunn muttered, closing his book and crossing his arms. Fred looked up, that bright smile, Wesley flustered and… Connor apparently kept swinging around a sword, practicing. Ah. Violence.

Cordelia reached back, grabbing Angel by the shirt, regretting to hear the material tear. Oops. It was Connor’s after all, and Connor did not have the same muscular and larger stature of his father. Angel stared blankly, trying to catch up with his mile a minute girlfriend.

She pulled him nearer, then waved at him, telling him, “Don’t move! Don’t even bre—Well, you know!”

Cordelia darted into the bathroom, coming out a few minutes later to see Wesley poking Angel, scrutinizing. As usual, ‘cause hey, poking really helped out in these cases. She held a cup of water in her hand, the other hand holding the still hot pot of water. Cordelia threw the cup’s contents unceremoniously at Angel, watching him blink, watching her sputter out water.

“Cold water turns him into a girl while—“ A splash of the pot. Angel raised a hand, growling and shouting in his distinctly male voice. “Hot water turns him back!”

“Okay, before we go all science project on me, can we NOT keep soaking me? Can’t I get through the night with a dry shirt on…?” Angel asked, wiping his face. He could hear Connor noticeably mutter about “his shirt” in the background.

“The rain…” Gunn trailed off, then nodded. “That’s what turned you into a girl when we were fighting outside.”

Angel glanced over at Cordy, everything coming into place. Washing his face earlier—the hot water—must have changed him back as well.

Wesley nodded, the wheels in his head turning. “So this must be something else – not the dart. It would’ve rendered him weak, not enforce this kind of …spell, onto him. At least, I’ve never heard of such contact with an unknown liquid rendering the user able to change their form at a whim.”

Angel was busy trying to spike his hair up, Cordelia elbowing him while she listened to Wesley.

“We’re forgetting Marvel super heroes?” Gunn said from his place leaning against Fred’s desk, then getting his share of blank looks in return murmured, “Sometimes I wish I was back with the crew when it comes to cultural references, man.”

Cordy raised an eyebrow. “Kinda like Superman or whatever?”

“One, hell no, and two, that’s D.C. Comics, Barbie.”

“Can we PLEASE get back to the matter at hand?” Wesley interjected, glaring at Cordy who stuck her tongue out in Gunn’s direction.

Fred turned in her swivel chair, looking up to Gunn, then Wesley. “So what exactly triggered this in Angel?”

A thoughtful look, Wesley glanced at Cordy. “Care to explain what you two were doing tonight?”

Cordelia harrumphed, crossing her arms. “I told you earlier. Dart. Jump. Fall. Splash. Boobs.”

She looked over at Angel, still fixated on spiking his wet hair up. Then her eyes widened. “Ohhh! The splash! The water! It was the water! The pool was—“

“Cursed.” Wesley walked over to the bookcase, bending down. “Fred, where’s the Ruminations of Dark Liquids and Pools book again?”

“Third shelf, far right.”

“We actually have a book on that? And yet you guys can’t concentrate your efforts on finding a book of legit addresses for agents…?” Cordy muttered, her voice rising, the cheeky smile towards the end of it. You could take the girl out of Sunnydale, but the Queen C, the actress remained.

Wesley slammed the book onto the table and began flipping it. “You say you both went to a Japanese restaurant?”

Cordy nodded. “Yeah huh.”

“Then I think it be best to go back to the scene of the crime. Perhaps attain a sample of the water. It would be easier to go into further depth researching when knowing what particular chemicals are in the water.”

Angel was already moving to the coat rack grabbing his duster. Throwing it on despite Cordy’s sarcastic expression, Angel turned to his friends, nodding to the door.

“Cordy. Connor. You two are coming with me. We’ll check out the restaurant. Gunn?”

Gunn shook his head, indicating yes, a bemused expression.

“Good. Fred hit the books. We’re not doing any good here just sitting around. We’re detectives. That’s what we do. So… let’s go and…detect.”

Wesley hesitated, then moved to the coat rack. “I’ll check out the usual informants.”

Fred’s demeanor perked up, the girl pulling back away from the bright glare of the computer screen. She bit her lip, pushing her glasses up on her nose while looking up at Wesley. “I-I could come with you.”

“I think it would be best for you to stay here. That way we can cover more ground,” Wesley explained, a soft tone in his voice. Gunn stiffened slightly, letting it pass.

“See if anythin’ new is going bump in the night,” Gunn added, trying to cover up his motions with a little shrug. It wasn’t like he and Fred were solid, together again. But damn if he’d let Wesley get all up in her. Yes, maybe Wesley had been integral in bringing Cordelia back. Gunn could still remember the ritual they did, “more magick” as Connor referred to it. Yet the angst ridden teen nearly beamed when Cordelia awoke. Smiling. A rare smile that faded when Angel picked her up, kissed her.

Wesley didn’t smile. He could only watch. He didn’t have someone that loved him like that. Not ever again. And in a sick, little twisted way, inside of Gunn’s gut, he really didn’t give a crap about that.

He watched Angel moved to leave after a minute or so, Cordelia on his right, Connor to his left, catching up with him. Snapping out of his funk, Gunn watched them, his feet moving, and body on cruise control.

Gunn wondered when the hot chick would come back.

Then he shuddered and grabbed his jacket.

This is why you shouldn’t have take-out, man. No matter if Cordy offers.

Ever.

*

Angel turned off the ignition, looking at his hands and fingers. They were nice hands, he reckoned, nice and firm. Not too skinny, not bulky, just… normal. And they’d been places. Dark thoughts aside, light ones lifted to the surface. Putting a rogue strand behind Cordelia’s ear easily in conversation, the girl not flinching, the move coming effortlessly to him. Grabbing the small of her back in jest, pulling her to him, a playful kiss on the lips. Or the coming and going typing ease of signing into Cordelia’s screen name and wondering what to buy her for her birthday, knowing her credit card number all too well.

These hands had a long history, one that was filled with Cordy at the moment. He liked that.

He liked that they weren’t the slender fingers earlier, female, different, changed and out of his natural element. Strange. Confused. But no, you couldn’t show that. You were a champion, and not supposed to show any sign of weakness. You needed to maintain your composure. You just needed to carry on the mission. To not falter. To not go crazy over love, insane… changed.

Changed and clutching the steering wheel way too hard.

*

Angel could see Gunn in the view mirror, through his own invisible reflection. Gunn glanced at Angel, then looked at the other two get out of the car.

It was still dark out, but in an hour or so the sky would lighten, turning to its steady burn of black, blue, orange, gold and red. A myriad of colors that would give way to harsh, obliterating day. The car doors slammed, echoing in the night, a small number of birds flying up at the large noise. One or two stray cars passed by, Angel hesitating before crossing the street.

The four walked across the street, mouths opening, thin lines, incredulous gasps. What had been a busy street with double parked cars, an elaborate overhang and red neon was now gone. The building was boarded up, bills posted and ripped, dust having settled on the floor and on wooden boards nailed to the walls and windows.

Gunn watched Angel step back, taking a look at the front door of the restaurant. The lights were off inside and out, dark, tinted glass immaculate and shining through the boards.

“They packed up,” Gunn said, holding a hand above his eyes while he peered into the uncovered front door, into the bowels of the restaurant. He turned around, seeing Cordy’s jaw drop.

“What? But we were just HERE! You are NOT telling me I’m stuck with Mr. Pervy Boob Fancier over here!” Cordy yelled, jerking a thumb in Angel’s direction.

“Hey! Hey! Still here,” Angel responded, holding his hands up.

“I go online,” Cordy explained at Gunn’s confused look regarding the nickname. Connor poked the boards near the door, starting to pry a panel off. Meanwhile Cordy huffed, flicking Gunn aside to peer through the front door window. Cordy stood on tiptoe, sighing before turning to plow into Angel. Big, clunky Angel. Clunky and annoying and using that damn look—

“So now what?” Connor asked, his voice low in the silence. He left the now semi-loose board alone, leaning against one of the free walls.

Angel moved to the front door, kicking the glass in. It shattered, a sparkling rain of noise that crashed and clattered to the ground.

“We go in,” Angel replied, a deadpan look. He waited for the inevitable alarms to sound, but there was nothing.

The interior of the restaurant was about just as bare as the exterior. Chairs were upturned on tables, stray table covers covering the furniture. The only light was from the windows not boarded up, a strange display of reflected light on the broken glass on the floor. Cordy followed behind Angel closely, the four walking very cautiously.

“They’re gone,” Connor said, sniffing the air discreetly. He watched Cordy run a finger down the length of the table. She held it up, dirt clearly evident.

“Whoever left hasn’t been in this building for a long, long, lonnnnng time,” Cordy muttered.

“Yeah.” Angel looked around, smelling the air, looking for some kind of sign. “Looks like a year since they’ve been gone or something.”

Connor peeked into a side door, shaking his head in consternation. “There’s nobody inside. I can’t hear anything.”

Angel tapped Gunn’s shoulder. He pointed into the gloom of the restaurant, booths empty, stairs covered with dust. “Check the office. They should have one.”

Gunn moved in Angel’s indicated direction, while Angel himself went with Cordelia into the kitchen at the far end of the empty restaurant.

The bright lights that Angel flicked on made him look even paler than normal, just like the walking corpse that he really was. However, it didn’t deter Cordy from latching onto his jacket, eyes darting about. Angel heard a clanking noise, eyes scanning the rows of metal shelves, the stoves and cabinets. All were unblemished, spotless save for a thin layer of dust covering surfaces and appliances.

“Sorry.” Cordy shrugged sheepishly, Angel realizing she had bumped into a cart. He scowled for a second, look diminishing at Cordelia’s embarrassed expression.

After a few minutes all four of them met in the broad, empty expanse of the restaurant’s foyer, scowling and depressed looks all around.

“Office was clean,” Gunn began, sighing. “Not a single scrap of paper or pens. File drawers empty. Phones, chairs, desks. No furniture. Nothing.”

“Not even fingerprints. I checked,” Connor added. He shook his hair out of his eyes, folding his arms across his chest. Somehow those extra months of watching television had paid off.

“Nothing.” Angel looked around, frowning. “It’s like they just disappeared.”

“Maybe Wesley found something,” Cordy piped up, suddenly cheery. That bright smile of hers flashed white in the dark, giving Angel a needed boost. “Okay, so maybe we’re in a scrape. Maybe these kidnappers have taken girls, and cursed Angel into womanhood.”

Angel raised a hand. “Uh—not a woman.”

“Whatever.” She shook her head. “Anyway, we’ll figure it out. That’s what we do! Champions! Detectives. Gumshoes. Whatever. I mean, it’d be really pathetic if we couldn’t even find—”

*

“—one single lead. Apparently, they had no idea what or whom I was referring to, whatsoever.”

Connor leaned back against the wall, letting the coldness seep into his thin shirt, through him. He merely watched the others mill about the office, the computer humming, coffee being poured, the sound of Angel’s scant whining bringing him back into focus. Angel didn’t whine outright—no, he developed a skill, and besides, that was Cordy’s job. He meandered about the office, muttering, opening and closing books in frustration.

Wesley had just arrived, the sun already on the horizon. If they had a scoreboard, it’d be zip for the home front. He found no leaders, getting laughs and incredulous, perplexed looks at his questioning. It seemed as if the restaurant had disappeared off the face of the earth, and all who were connected with it did not exist.

Not of the good.

So Connor watched their little movements. Adults fascinated him. It wasn’t like he felt young and childish in comparison to them. That was far from the truth. He was sixteen, going on seventeen, the mind of a jaded young man inside the lanky, brooding frame. After the whole debacle with Jasmine, they were untrusting of him. He didn’t blame them. Connor was confused, and lonely, Angel going out of his way these past few months following to correct that.

Maybe he didn’t succeed fully. Maybe Angel split his time with Connor and Cordelia. But it was seeing them happy, finally, that lessened the pain in him. Connor loved Cordy, he had to admit. She was Angel’s though, and he accepted that. He still loved her, despite what happened, but she was out of his league. Resigned now. Concerned. Rubbing Angel’s shoulder, his arm. They were all researching, all trying to figure out what exactly they needed to do next.

Connor rubbed the back of his neck, looking at the stack of displaced books on the shelf nearby. He ran his fingers along the cover, then opened the book, flipping through it. Reading.

Helping.

Wesley flipped through the pages of that dark pools book of his furiously, stopping and pointing his finger at the text. “I think I found it.”

Angel, Cordy, Gunn, and Fred moved to hover near Wesley’s shoulders, all of them looking down at the text.

“And that says…” Fred trailed off.

“The pools at Jusenkyö were connected to a royal family of Japan, despite them being located in China,” Angel read, translating the languages written easily. “Those who opposed the family were disposed of, some way by the springs… It doesn’t say. Then it goes on to talk about the kotaishi, the prince, and how his eranda hito, his chosen person, is picked… His shinpu.”

“Shampoo?” Cordy seemed incredulous. “This ancient passage is about how he picks his shampoo? Hmm, Herbal Essences or Pert Plus anyone?”

“Shinpu means ‘bride’, Cordy. Wes, you see this word here?” Angel pointed, Wesley looking closer. “That’s not Japanese. I’ve never seen that before. Or that… or…”

“It’s a whole passage in another language. I’ll see if I can translate it, or at the very least cross reference it,” Wesley said, picking up the book. He placed it on the counter, moving to the bookshelf while the others drifted to their places around the office again, watching him work. Wesley took another book out, placing it on the counter near the other one.

He nodded to himself, muttering. “This seems to be an ancient, demonic form of—Oh, wait, I know! The Kappa. It’s an ancient form yet here it is nonetheless. Amazing.”

Cordy elbowed Angel gently, whispering, “Is he talking about a fraternity?”

Angel shook his head. “They’re like vampires. Very popular in Japanese myth. Scaled creatures with these kind of bowl-like heads that are filled with magic water. If the water is spilled, they loose their powers, but not their hunger for blood.”

“…Ewww.”

Gunn and Fred exchanged looks. Connor was hacking away somethin’ nasty and invisible in the lobby. The boy was able to hear the entire conversation although he didn’t look like he was paying attention.

Wesley kept on reading, nodding to himself. Angel put his hands in his pant pockets, feeling around before he pulled out the restaurant’s business card. Must have stuffed it into my pocket before we went into the courtyard. Only piece of evidence we have left…

Angel looked at the card. He just noticed that it had a strange sequence of symbols on it, both Japanese, and probably the language of the Kappa. “Wesley, take a look at this. It’s the family crest.”

“Are you sure?” Wesley asked, taking the card from him slowly when Angel offered it.

“I’ve recognized crests before. When I broke into houses…” Angel cleared his throat, feeling Cordelia rub his arm up and down, trying to offer some comfort for bad memories. She watched Fred peer over Wesley’s shoulder as the Englishman put the card near the books, downloading information and translating quickly.

“…Tatewaki. The family name. Now…” Wesley trailed off. They waited, Gunn considering reaching for his bag of chips again during the silence. Then it clicked. Fred’s click, that expression of hers, those eyes on Wesley, wondering if he figured it out. Yet.

“The restaurant’s connected to this royal family. That explains why they had those enchanted pools there,” Angel surmised.

Wesley nodded, looking up briefly before down again, eyes scanning the pages quickly. “But it goes farther than that. The prince, like it said, chooses a bride. Their method is certainly unconventional to say the least. And not widely used – it’s been implicated centuries ago, but only a handful of princes chose their brides in such a fashion. To this new ruler it may seem like some ancient religious revival of an old custom.”

Cordelia sighed. “Patience. Thin.”

“He’s taken women from across dimensions to be in his uh, harem. The best of the best, ranging from the smartest, to the prettiest, and so on. All races and countries, but most importantly, those that are ‘special’. In other words, those that can live up to his expectations. Good luck. Anyway, one will be chosen to be his bride, his queen,” Wesley explained, looking up from the musty tome. “There’s a ball and perhaps tournaments as well.”

“So that’s how the restaurant is connected. You check in for food, and boom, you end up being thrown into a portal, probably brainwashed for this psycho. That guy we ran into must have worked for the prince,” Cordy surmised. “You can find lots of upscale girls at a place like that what with it being popular and the high prices. Like that girl we saw one of the flunkies throw into the portal he created.”

“Or the Merdorians and Synthars hired to kidnap girls for the prince, too,” Gunn added.

Wesley nodded, seeing Fred raise her hand like a student.

“Tournaments? In his palace?” Fred asked, stars in her eyes as she pictured it.

“Yes. In his palace at …Tokyo, Japan. At least, I think that says Tokyo. On another case I would suggest we simply infiltrate the restaurant, but since that’s out and abandoned…”

“They’ve severed their ties and properties in America. In too deep. Maybe they’ve gotten enough girls and don’t want any more attention,” Angel said, shrugging.

Cordy nodded. “That’s why he left you and me behind. He didn’t need another bride. He filled up his quota. And we had you to worry over.”

“Given the prince’s media savvy and the number of girls that have turned up missing lately in this string of disappearances, plus the lack of the Tatewaki clan in Los Angeles, I think they are realizing they’re getting too much attention, yes. We must head for the source. Last resource, but…”

Wesley trailed off, perplexed and interested looks all around.

“We have no other choice.”

Gunn shook his head. “We can’t go to Japan. Our boy would spontaneously combust on the plane, if you get my meaning.”

Angel nodded in agreement. “We can’t take chances flying there. And we need to take care of home base. Evil doesn’t take holidays.”

“It’s been dead lately,” Cordy pointed out. The recent string of disappearances was all that truly occupied them. “…Pardon the pun.”

They were all silent again, pondering.

Then Fred said meekly, “What if we were to use a portal?”

“A portal! That’s it!” Wesley tapped his book with his fingertips. Meanwhile, Gunn gave Fred a dark look, remembering her professor. How Angelus knew something had gone so very, very wrong… “That is, if you’re sure.”

“I’m sure. I can whip one up in no time,” Fred said, getting out of her chair and heading for the bookcase.

Angel started to sneak off during the moment of pause, then was abruptly yanked by the shirt by Cordelia. He made a face, knowing what she’d say next.

“Undercover looks like the key word here. And guess who’s gonna be the next contestants on ‘Who Wants to Marry a Psycho Millionaire?’” Cordy said, perky. “I’m thinkin’ – the three of us.”

“Three?” Wesley asked, slightly baffled. He adjusted the pile of papers in front of him.

“Yeah. Me, Fred, and our little cross dresser,” Cordy drawled.

“Oh no. I’m not dressing up for anyone,” Angel said pointedly, adamant about his decision.

“Think of the karma! Our one greatest weapon—in disguise! High heels, some lipstick, a little makeup, and you’re good to go! Besides, why else do you think you got this brand new curse? It allll works out perfectly.”

“Cordy, it’s not that simple. Besides, I’m not dressing up as a woman,” Angel protested, brow furrowed.

“She does have a... point,” Wesley said slowly, Gunn to his left looking like he’d crack up at any minute. “It would be most beneficial.”

Angel had a look of abject horror that he tried to replace with simply looking stubborn. “Wes. No.”

“I found the incantation!” Fred piped up, coming into the lobby with a large book in her hands. “Straight to Tokyo, give or take a couple of miles and twenty minutes in preparation, that is. Way back has a more or less identical ritual too. Easy.”

Gunn shook his head slowly, eyes dark. “Great. Another one of them portals…”

“It’s all we got to make sure Angel doesn’t have a flammable combustion outing,” Fred pointed out, a mental image of Angel on an airplane.

“Give me forty minutes and I’ll give you a bride,” Cordy said, eyeing Angel before dragging him griping up the staircase, past a smirking Connor.

“I’d say to her, ‘give him mercy’, but to tell you the truth, I am just too psyched to see this,” Gunn said with a grin, watching them vanish upstairs.

*

“Cordy, what are you… No. No. Put it down.”

“Oh come on, Angel. It’s just a glass of water. Completely harmless!”

“Yeah, to you it is. Me? I’m not so lucky,” Angel drawled. He shifted his position, hands in tailored pockets before he straightened from his place leaning on the doorframe. They were both in his room, scant light still cozy and warm. She looked up at him, a coy, innocent smile.

Before she threw the water in his face.

“I’ve always wanted to do that,” Cordy said, content as the vampire stood sputtering, clothes suddenly baggy, hair with a lustrous sheen and length that even Cordelia envied. It was just as her suspicions confirmed – contact with cold water made him a girl, while hot water changed him back. So now, temporarily, he was a ‘she’, a she who stood glaring at the seer, off in her own world muttering.

“Take off your clothes.”

“What?!”

“To go take a shower. Jeez. You can’t just take a bath every other week or whatever. Hygiene is very important.”

“I’m dead, Cordelia. Although, I always take—”

She shook her head as Angel peeled off the now semi-dry clothing. “That’s not an excuse. Now, you – bath. Go. Now. Demon fighting. Jumping about dirty restaurants. Smelly.”

Angel sighed emphatically, letting herself be pushed into the bathroom. Cordelia closed the door behind her, walking to her own room. Angel wasn’t reeking really, but she felt she needed to adjust to her body, to learn every angle and move before she could go off. A distracted Angel was something they could not afford to have. Cordelia ticked off outfits on her fingers, crossing out some as they probably wouldn’t fit Angel. And she really didn’t want to go on with the whole ‘fat’ thing—Angel had enough problems with that, and being a girl in a tight dress wouldn’t help—

“Aghhaaahhh!”

“Oh come ON, you’ve seen one before,” Cordelia murmured, rolling her eyes and closing the door behind her.

Except she didn’t know Angel slipped on a piece of soap while staring at it.

*

“Gahhh! What is that thing?!"

"It's eyeliner, dumb ass. Don't play coy with me. You should know all the ins and outs. Now, hold still."

"It's hurting my eyes. I think it's old or something. It burns—" Angel pulled her head back, fidgeting at Cordelia leaning forward and trying to get it on. “It burns, Cordy.”

"So you think you can pull a Gollum to get out off it with the whole 'expired makeup' excuse again? Doesn't work that way, precious."

"Now I'm feeling a really creepy sense of déjà vu..."

Angel pulled back a couple of times more. Cordelia finally harrumphed, putting her hands on her hips.

“Do you want me to do this or not?” Cordelia asked, glaring.

Angel shook her head, eyes narrowing. “What exactly ARE you doing other than stepping on my manhood?”

“Uh, excuse you? Last time I checked, you’re lacking in that,” Cordelia said, her eyebrows raised. Angel sighed, looking down. “Geez. It’s not such a big deal! Okay, granted, I’d be freaked out if I were… well, you know, but I’d deal for the time being. You’re half woman. Get over it. Now, I’m trying to teach you how to put on make up and so on just in case I’m not around.”

“It’s not like we’ll be there on vacation, Cordy,” Angel pointed out.

“But if you act like yourself, all stupid guy-ish in disguise it’ll blow our cover,” Cordelia pointed out. “Now sit properly for me.”

Angel rolled her eyes emphatically, sitting exactly the way she’d been in. Which, in this case, given the borrowed draped silk robe that barely covered those legs which were spread wide open, far from ladylike. Her posture was slouched, eyes bored and at half-mast. Angel’s hair was wet, slick and cascading down her back, make up applied and scowling. Cordelia crossed her arms, staring.

She nodded slowly. “Oh yeah. ‘Cause we really want to show them ‘hey, look at what a big slut I am’ while they stare at your bad posture and ask ‘cash or credit?’”

Angel actually looked perplexed. Cordelia bent slightly and closed her legs with her knee, making Angel sit up straight, ankles and legs firmly together.

“Remember. No sniveling, whiny cry-Buffy. Strong. Independent. Fiery,” Cordy told her, ticking off qualities on her fingers. “Flirting would be a big plus with the prince—well, who am I kidding? You’re all ‘I like girls’, given two hundred years of making out with them, so that’d be too much a

Her words reminded him of that time Cordelia had thrown a quaint bash at her apartment, commenting the next day in the office about how boring Angel was. That much was true. But at least he didn’t spasm all over the dance floor like Wesley had, even falling to meet it. The only spasming he did was in his dream. Ugh. Dancing.

Thing was, she even said Wesley had a better time.

So Angel wasn’t about to disappoint her with his distaste for parties. “I guess.”

Cordy waved towards herself, stepping back. “Got the eyeliner, lipstick down. Good. Now let’s practice the walk.”

“No.”

“Honestly Angel, do you even want to do this at ALL?” Cordelia snapped, seeing Angel shake her head. “Well, tough luck bucko! I don’t want to be teaching you all this girly stuff but we have to! IF you act strange when we’re there because you don’t know certain things, they’ll find out something’s up, for the second time. Do you want to be responsible for all those girls disappearances just because you can’t act like one for a short time?”

Angel stood up slowly, looking down at her, expression blank. After a moment she uncrossed her arms, letting them swing by her sides, walking to the right, then back, to the left, then back. “There.”

Cordelia stared with wide eyes. “What the heck was that?”

“My walk.”

“Yeah, if you’re trying to get onto the Number 2 train in Manhattan during rush hour.” Angel gave her a look, Cordy explaining, “One of Daddy’s business trips. New York City rocks. Anyway… that was way too fast. Try something like this.”

Cordelia turned, walking to Angel’s bed normally, no catwalk, no extravagance, just how she normally walked. Angel leaned, looking at the way she moved appreciatively. She could always stare at her walk around the office, walk around her apartment, a rat infested alley, and always love her. Cordy reminded her of that Billy Joel song… She was always a woman to her, beautiful, tactless, and that walk…

She is frequently kind
And she's suddenly cruel
She can do as she pleases
She's nobody's fool
But she can't be convicted
She's earned her degree
And the most she will do
Is throw shadows at you
But she's always a woman to me

Cordelia turned around, confirming that out of the corner of her eye, Angel was completely staring at her ass. Perv. Especially half naked like… that…

“Angel?”

“Oh, right. Sorry.” Angel straightened, walking towards her. She mimicked her walk, but added some differences of her own, a refined look and posture. Probably came after all those years of killing and watching those Victorian women, proper and rich.

Watching them… Like she was now.

Cordy smacked Angel shoulder when she arrived at the same spot, sticking a pointer finger in her face. “Don’t look at me like that!”

Angel pulled back, an eyebrow raised. “What did I do?”

Cordelia sighed, rolling her shoulders back. She decided to give Angel some slack, given her current position on things, and all those new broody thoughts that must be bubbling up in her head. ‘Oh, this mascara, worn on the Scourge of Europe! Poor mascara! Pain! Agony!’ and all that jazz.

Snapping herself out of her image of mock Shakespearian Angel throwing a hand across her forehead, Cordy stared at the vampire. Make up, given she paid attention during those parts when she wasn’t whining, check. Lipstick, check, she’d seen Cordy apply it enough after their random make out sessions. Sometimes Angel wondered if she was so damn hungry about it, they shouldn’t wait, rather get a closet on the spot.

Nah, closets were for High School.

Walk, check. Little swagger, but hey, it was the clumsy manpire trying to assert his ‘manhood’ or whatever. Pfft. Now, the tricky part. The hardest one left. The crucial one.

“You need to stop faking your voice,” Cordy told her, noticing Angel hadn’t pulled back that much, only a short distance between them. “Talk normally.”

Angel crossed her arms again. What was it, the fifth time that night or something? “I am.”

“Nuh uh. ‘I am’, means squat, and just goes to show you’re trying to put on your voice. Angel, you’re a girl and you have to talk like one.”

“I’m not talking like a ditz or anything like that,” Angel pointed out, wincing when Cordy gave him a look. “You know what I mean.”

“Whatever. Just talk normal. Stop trying to make it deep.”

Angel looked at her sideways, frowning. “I don’t see why we have to make such a big deal about it.”

“Because…” Cordelia lifted Angel’s chin, closing her eyes slightly, that alluring look of hers. “If you don’t fix it, you’re not getting anything tonight. And it lessens the creep out factor.”

Moved to protest, Angel opened her mouth, having it shut by Cordelia’s finger. She stared at her, Cordy’s mouth opening slightly, that look. Needing. Wanting. Cordy remembered the last time they had kissed, over dinner, and now it seemed it wouldn’t be enough to sustain her. Not that lovely setting, the soft lights, that pain, aching for more. But it was public—like that would stop them, they had done it in other places—and refined, and that shirt had been opened slightly, making her flush with heat—

“I think I got it!” Fred called faintly from downstairs, her voice excited after hours pouring over texts, the pungent smell of incense reaching the apartment floors.

Cordy pulled her hand away with a caress to Angel’s face, her eyes lowering, turning around and walking towards the door. “Get ready. We might be leaving soon.”

Angel blinked, seeing Cordelia leave. She fidgeted, looking down at herself before back up again, closing the robe shut tightly. “…Do I have to take this make up off?”

“If you want don't want to look strange and manhood-less in front of your friends, then yeah, you should.”

Rolling her eyes, she headed for the closet, muttering.

“Simple question…”

*

Fred pulled away from poking at the concoction she was making inside of the small bowl in front of her. Looking sideways at the lobby, how Angel and Cordy sat near each other, her sleepy and nestling her head in the crux of Angel’s neck. He rubbed her forehead gently, twirling the loose strands of hair. It gave Fred a happy to see them that way, despite the snark, the confusion earlier. Say what you will, but they loved each other, and after all they had gone through, Fred thought they deserved happiness through any means possible.

Even if it meant her smelling this funky concoction for what seemed to be hours.

Scrunching her nose, she looked at the book near her, deciding to add more tea leaves into the bowl. This was simply the method of getting to Tokyo, imagine her trying to find a cure for Angel. It’d be just as hard, and given her luck, smellier. She felt a hand rub her back affectionately, not that much surprised to see a martini glass placed near the book.

“Want a drink, Fred? If that doesn’t interfere with your wacky mojo making,” Lorne added, then winced, going around the counter to look at her. “Forget I said that.”

“I’m okay,” Fred admitted, despite her frazzled look. “Just that findin’ a way to get there’s taking longer than my eureka moment.”

“Not of the good,” Lorne agreed with a nod, then jerked his head in the direction of Angel and Cordelia. “So how’s our two lovebirds with that new curse on him?”

Fred’s eyes went wide, lowering her head to become buried in the book’s information. “Well Lorne, I didn’t ask them exactly how they’d be…. doing… things…”

Lorne shook his head. “Not that, sweetie. Though it’s an issue, but I’m askin’ what’s with the Cordy vibe?”

“What about Cordy?”

“She’s not happy. At all.” Lorne shrugged. “Doesn’t take an anagogic demon to figure that out. Read her face, her eyes.”

Fred turned slightly, looking at them out of the corner of her eye. Angel’s eyes were barely open now, but knowing past principle, he could hear everything they were saying. And judging by his brooding expression, knew all of it was true.

Gunn came out of the office, hearing this last bit of info. He placed the bundle he was carrying in his arms onto the counter, various axes, knives and swords. Nodding in Angel’s direction, Gunn clapped a hand on Lorne’s shoulder. “It’s called sexual tension, my friend. Don’t worry man, it’s not a family show.”

Lorne nodded in agreement, turning to Fred. “While you’re there, be sure to tell them not to fret over it. Angel’s got his Brown Eyes looking out for him, whether or not he’s a girl. She loves him regardless of what he is, or…what monochrome fashion blah he’s wearing.”

Fred looked perplexed. “You’re not coming?”

“Oh no,” Lorne said, picking up his drink and taking a sip. “I’ve gotta stay and maintain the fort. You guys can go traipsing around Japan without me. You’re lucky I’m doing that much, given me popping by after a wacky night out and Wesley explaining what’s going on.”

Gunn leaned back on the counter, an easygoing manner and expression. “Hey, they might figure you’re with the C-3PO thing and revere you over there. You know, them Ewoks liking him to be a god what with the gold and all. You’re green, you might be considered powerful. Return of the Dragon, y’know?”

“Or they could go the xenophobic route and view me as an oni, a demon. Of which, yeah, I am, but not of the good kind over there, what with the eyes and horns. So, later kittens. I’m gettin’ some shut eye,” he said, gesturing to the clock with the martini in his green hand. Sunrise was not far off. It would be dawn, and yet Angel still massaged the top of Cordelia’s forehead, her eyes closed, his eyes as well. They had both been rushing, until Fred told them to calm down, as she hadn’t exactly finished, Gunn even suggesting they rest while he took care of preparing.

They were both just so out of it that they needed a break.

Lorne gave a salute in Angel’s direction before heading upstairs, humming to himself.

Wesley and Connor came out of the basement, brisk, both jazzed. They made a clean sweep of the blocks, trying to make sure nothing was wrong before they left. It was bad enough they had to leave, but… with the prince and his inevitable stash of riches, they would need heavy reinforcements should they not be able to get into the palace. Stopping this man from taking women was the goal, and they needed to adhere to it. They were getting ready, Wes slipping his jacket on, Connor picking a sword from the bundle of weapons Gunn had collected. The young black man whistled, Angel opening his eyes and sitting up.

“We’re goin’, man. Tell Cordy.”

Angel bent his head to whisper in Cordelia’s ear, her brow furrowing, a soft little moan before she twisted in his arms and lap, her eyes fluttering open, murmuring. She kissed him once, twice, three times on the lips, soft and needy kisses, his mouth a smile for each one. Then Cordelia finally pushed off of him, standing up. Fortunately, her clothes—that simple blue jean jacket and pants set she had worn in Pylea, a tan overcoat, her hair pulled into a ponytail—had not rumpled after taking a short nap. Meanwhile, Angel had chosen his basic black ensemble: black shirt, pants, boots and duster. As per usual.

The couple walked over to the counter, Connor handing a small dagger to Cordelia, her clicking her tongue before getting a sword instead. Connor sighed, turning to look at the others.

“So now what?” He nodded to Fred. “Is she done?”

“’She’ is finished,” Fred said, looking up from mixing her concoction. “The spell’s all set.”

“Good. Then we can leave,” Wesley said, hoisting a slaying bag onto his shoulder. He had packed some minor supplies, given its bulky state, some food, medicinal items, and other camping-ish stuff for their trip. Cordy looked at the bag, Wesley responding, “Just in case.”

“Ah. ‘Cause we’re opting for the Plan B, not ‘hop, skip and a jiffy’,” Cordy surmised, raising an eyebrow. Angel picked up his favorite broad sword, looking to Cordy, then Wesley.

“Well, given your outfit and the untimely circumstances which brought you to be hung and sold like a ‘cow’ in Pylea three years ago, I’d say preparation would be most welcome,” Wesley said darkly, Gunn nearby and wielding an axe. Both were wearing jackets, dressed for a breezy night of demon slayage. Connor wore nothing like that, save for the shirt, pants, and sneakers on his lanky frame.

“You remember to turn the oven off?” Gunn asked Wesley, then smirked. Rolling his eyes—ah, the old Wes would probably be flustered, this wasn’t—Wesley looked over to Fred, and then back again.

“You and your domestic references.”

“Can we knock off the subtext crap?” Angel nodded to Fred. “We have a mission, people. Let’s review. I—” He gestured to himself. “—help Fred and Cordy get into the palace. Cordy… works… whatever, gets to slip into the prince’s chambers, tells us what we need to know. You guys set the girls free, I come in with the fangs, and boom. Megalomaniac prince gone and we’ll be home in time for CSI.”

Cordelia gazed up at Angel, scrutinizing, her arms crossed, and sword dangling at her side within its sheath. “Yep. I’ve got way too much influence on you. Damn corruptive television.”

Fred picked up the bowl, placing it down on the floor. She spread some tea leaves around the circumference, about a foot in diameter. “I need everyone to stand around the bowl in a circle.”

Gunn seemed incredulous. “We don’t gotta hold hands or anything? ‘Cause, you know, Jasmine? Almost on the verge of kumbaya and all with her.”

Wesley shook his head. “Just a circle, nothing more.”

“Okay, okay…”

The six of them gathered around the bowl, very close, nearly shoulder to shoulder. Fred had taken time to change—due to Wesley’s prodding before he left— wearing a baggy jacket, silky shirt and jeans. She threw some unknown powder down into the bowl, its contents organic except for the business card Angel had taken and the small picture of a town near rolling forests and hills. Angel rubbed Cordy’s wrist with a finger, the other hand clenched on his broad sword. After a few seconds her fingers clasped his, tighter and tighter, her eyes hypnotic. He glanced at her, a little crooked smile that soon faded when he looked at the bowl.

“Fred, that’s… not a picture of Tokyo. It’s—”

He felt like he was burning up, standing in a firestorm that sliced and climbed into him, burrowing. Flames whooshed around him, eating away, burning through dead tissue and organs, making him writhe in silence. His mouth carried no sound. His eyes saw nothing. Angel felt his fingers dissolve and slip away from Cordelia’s, felt hers fade away, and he screamed all the more.

But he felt nothing.

And he was nowhere.

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