Title: IzzyChase's Bloody Valentine: All That Flickers
Author: Jaguar
Posted: 02-14-2004
Email: sunnie_dee83@hotmail.com
Rating: NC17
Category:
Content: Angel/Cordelia
Summary: Cordelia is mistaken for Buffy.
Spoilers: S3 BtVS
Disclaimer: The characters in the Angelverse were created by Joss Whedon & David Greenwalt. No infringement is intended, no profit is made.
Distribution: JF, Caritas. Anywhere else, just ask.
Notes: This is fic is for the Broken Hearts and Bloody Valentine’s project at Stranger Things. It’s for IzzyChase, who specified lots of candles. I hope you like it! Thanks go to Becky (broken harlequin) as always for the excellent beta. Torture scenes- if you haven’t got the stomach, don’t read it.
Feedback: Yes please, please, please! Here, PM or email, whatever floats your boat!
Thanks/Dedication: IzzyChase's Bloody ValentineThe school was dark and empty as Cordelia stalked the school's corridors. There was something creepy about this place at night, and it wasn’t just because it was on top of a hellmouth. The empty classrooms loomed either side of her; the lockers lined up along both walls looked sinister and as though something was going to jump out at her any minute. She sped up, the sound of her heels on the shiny floor echoing sharply. Why Mr Benedict, her history teacher, had kept her behind again was beyond Cordelia. And on Valentine’s Day too! It wasn’t like she’d made Willow do her essay for her; more like a short guilt trip and voila, ten neatly typed pieces of paper had landed in her hand.
Thinking of Willow made her think of Willow and Xander and the knot of fury tied up tightly in her stomach began to strain again. It always happened when she thought of the two of them, kissing like they had been, all over each other. It wasn’t just the betrayal she felt- it was the fact that she’d given up who she was to be with Xander, only to be repayed by his disloyalty. Well, she thought, they’re probably all cooped up in that stupid library right now, researching some stupid demon or another and congratulating themselves on making her look like a fool.
As she thought of them, the brown double doors appeared around the corner. Unknowingly, she’d navigated her way through the school to bring her to this very point. She crept towards the entrance and peered through one of the round windows, straining for a look of Xander and Willow. The library was in almost complete darkness. Taking a deep breath, she pushed open the door and stepped inside, intending just to walk around, see if she could find any signs of Xander to sabotage and then leave, but a white sheet of paper attached to the counter with a stake caught her eye. She pulled out the large piece of wood and unfolded the paper. Bright red ink screamed out at her and she narrowed her eyes to bring it into focus.
Come to the mansion at midnight, slayer, or we will kill Angel.
“Oh my God.” Cordelia’s heart jumped into her throat as she let the note drift back onto the table. She leant over to pick up the phone and was halfway through dialling Buffy’s number when a brown sack was thrown over her head.
“What the-?” she managed to exclaim before something hit her on the back of her head and she fell into darkness.
***
The first thing Cordelia noticed when she regained consciousness was that when she opened her eyes, it was still dark. The second thing was that her mouth was taped up; the third, that she was laying on the floor and tied at ankles and wrists. She tugged at whatever was holding her still, and found that she had no leeway. From the feel of them, they were some sort of metal cuffs, and from the coldness of the ground underneath, she was laying on a bare floor. Her breathing sped up and her heart pounded in her chest as her situation flowed over her. Blind and unable to speak, tied up- she was helpless.
“Welcome back, slayer,” a male voice said behind her. It was a vampire- Cordelia could tell by the way it pronounced its words. Something about the fangs getting in the way made their voices distinct. Her heart slowed its galloping when she realised that the slayer was here. She’d been in life or death situations with Buffy more times than she cared to remember, and they’d always got out alive. Messed, dirty and with bad hair, but alive.
Cordelia strained for any signs of the slayer, for the quipping that she knew would come next. Silence. She must be tied up too, Cordelia thought. If they wanted Buffy, why the hell was she here? She strained against the tape around her mouth, making muffled sounds, hoping that whoever had captured her would let her go when they realised who she was. She heard a shuffling of feet, and then the tape was roughly ripped off her mouth.
“Ow! Violent much!” she exclaimed, the adhesive leaving behind a stinging sensation on her lips that wasn’t on the good side of pleasant.
“There will be more violence than that on this night, slayer,” the same vampire from before said menacingly. Cordelia waited for a reply and then decided that she wasn’t going to wait for anybody to save her. She was strong, well, stronger than she had been pre-Buffy thanks to the self defence classes she made her father enrol her into, and she could pun with the best of them. She’d get herself out of this mess.
“Uh hello? A little attention over here please? I can see that you’re a little pre-occupied with the slayer, so if you could just untie me, I’ll be on my way.”
“What do you mean? You’re the slayer.”
Oh crap. Not again. “No, I’m Cordelia. Cordelia, not the vampire slayer? Do you guys never do your research properly?”
There was a lot of whispering and then Cordelia felt fingers at the back of neck, undoing her blindfold. It wasn’t that much of an improvement when she opened her eyes; she must have been out a while because the high windows showed nothing but dark skies outside. She waited a few seconds for her eyes to adjust to the gloom, and then she lifted her head, looking around. She was in the mansion- she recognised it from a time Xander had brought her here to spy on Buffy and Angel. Angel! The note! She scanned the large room, looking for the vampire. If Buffy wasn’t here and this was a huge mistake, he’d get her out. Unless he was Angelus again, in which case she was in deep shit.
There he was, tied to the wall, blindfolded just as she had been. He was struggling against the restraints, but they were apparently vampire-proof because they were going nowhere. A movement to her right caught her attention, and a vampire moved into her field of view. She let her head down to the floor, saving energy for her escape attempt.
“You are the slayer. We have watched you these last few days. There is nobody else it could be.”
“Try the girl who carries stakes around and kills the vampires! She’s a blond for heaven’s sake! Do I look like that much of a fashion victim?”
The vampire looked her up and down.
“Obviously, not. My name is Cordelia Chase. I’m a cheerleader, not the slayer.”
Another vampire came forward, a dark haired woman this time. “You are the one in charge at that school. We’ve seen you. Don’t try to deny it.”
“Of course I’m in charge! I’m the most popular girl in school.”
“Then you must be the slayer.” The woman nodded and walked away. “Light them up.” That must have been an order, because all of a sudden light sprang up around the room. Cordelia moved her head and was greeted by the sight of hundreds of candles being lit; tall thin ones, short fat ones, candles in fancy holders and candles on their own. They covered every surface and cast an eerie glow around the room.
“A tip for you guys? Wouldn’t electricity be safer?” Cordelia asked.
“We need the flames. Somebody shut her up. We need silence,” the male vampire said, looking down at her and then walking away into the centre of the room. Cordelia started to protest and then a foot came out of nowhere and slammed into her side, again and again, until she felt as though her ribs were about to explode. The pain was agonising, and when she tried to curl up to make it go away the chains on her wrists and ankles pulled even tighter, chafing against her skin.
“Shut up you little bitch. Watch and listen. Listen how you and your boyfriend are going to die.”
“He’s not my boyfriend,” Cordelia whispered. Even talking was hurting her now. She closed her eyes and took a few shallow breaths. When the pain subsided a little, she opened them again and stared at the ceiling. They think I’m the slayer, and I’m going to die. They think I’m the slayer and I’m going to die. Oh God.
***
The minutes after seemed to drag on for hours. Cordelia could hear what they were doing and what they were chanting but it didn’t quite register. From one of her many brief glances, she discovered that there were about 10 vampires, dressed in long silk green robes that hung to the floor with hoods that completely hid their faces. They were stood in a circle, around a small wooden stage of some kind which seemed to be holding up an altar. On the altar was an effigy of a head, but a head that wasn’t human shaped nor human sized. That wasn’t the worst part. The worst part was what they were chanting, over and over.
“God of hatred and malice, God of almighty wisdom and pain, hear us. Hear our call on this most sacred of nights. Take the burnt flesh of the slayer and the blood of the one she loves and do as you would do. Sear this earth to the ground and let us reign over the human race. Nameless one, hear us.”
And so it went on, each repetition louder and more forceful than the last. The flames on the candles flickered and then extinguished before springing back into life again, only glowing now with a violet light. She realised that this was not one of those situations where yelling at the top of her lungs was going to do her any good. She just had to explain to them, calmly, that she wasn’t the slayer and that if they wanted to her to take them to Buffy then she would gladly oblige. But objective number one was to stay alive, and to keep Angel alive. The world would definitely be a less pretty place without him.
The chanting came to an abrupt halt, and the vampires dispersed around the room, one at each exit in case by some fluke Cordelia or Angel managed to get loose of their chains. Cordelia pulled at hers one more time, frantically tugging at the metal, willing them to come free. They didn’t.
“Look, guys, I told you I’m not Buffy. Your little spell or whatever isn’t going to work because I’m not the slayer. And I’m not in love with him, however much of a hunk he may be.” Talking was hard; she could feel bruises probably the size of a Prada handbag blossoming on her side. The pain was beginning to go away though. Maybe that was a good sign, or maybe she was bleeding internally and about to die.
Oh great Cor, look on the bright side why don’t you?
“Enough of your talking! If you are not the slayer, which you are, then we will take great pleasure in causing you pain anyway. My name is Johan, by the way. Feel free to scream it when you’re ready to die.” The male vampire from before, who seemed to be the leader, knelt down next to Cordelia, hovering just above her face. “You are a strong one. It will be most satisfying to break you.”
“Are you stupid or what? How many times do I have to tell you?” Cordelia’s heart was beating 200 times a minute as the realisation that they weren’t going to let her free hit her. The pain in her side throbbed and her vision swam in and out. Her arms and legs started to ache from being held in one position for too long and her stomach tied itself up in ten thousand more knots. “I’m not the slayer,” she whispered.
“Isn’t it funny how I don’t seem to care?” the vampire whispered back, nudging her chin with his nose, forcing her head over to the side. Cordelia felt his cold, stale breath wash over her skin before his fangs pierced her and he drank. Blood gurgled in his throat making a sickening noise, and all of a sudden Cordelia had the urge to scream, to scream louder and faster than she’d ever screamed before, but she couldn’t find the breath to do it. All her brain could think of was the teeth sunk into her flesh, her life seeping out of her.
This is how she was going to die.
Almost as soon as he had started, Johan lifted his head up and grinned, running his hands down the front of Cordelia’s shirt, ripping it open sharply, exposing the purple bra she’d put on this morning. A few more rips and that was gone too, thrown along with the shirt out of sight. Cordelia’s body reacted as the cool night air swept over her bare chest and a shivering deep inside her bones started. These guys meant business. Johan jumped on top of Cordelia, his hands either side of her head and his knees straddling her hips.
“You know, clothes just get in the way, don’t you think?” he said, moving down her body like a predator on his way in for the kill. His tongue made a burning road down the centre of her body, and then his hands found the button of her pants. In a couple of seconds, they had also disappeared, leaving her clad only in a pair of panties which matched the purple bra and didn’t do much to stave off the night.
“Please, no,” Cordelia murmured, as Johan made to remove those too.
“Don’t worry, Cordelia. We wouldn’t want to completely embarrass you before we’ve even started now, would we?” he joked, pressing himself against the full length of her body. “We’ll save that for later.” Abruptly he jumped off her and reached out his arm. The woman vampire handed him over a candle, one of the short fat ones. It was still glowing an unnatural purple but the flame itself was as normal as ever. Johan fell onto his knees and crawled closer to Cordelia, who shrank as far away from him as she could.
“You’re not going anywhere, slayer,” he growled, holding the candle above the tanned, smooth skin of her stomach. He tipped it over, slowly, agonisingly slowly and Cordelia watched in horror as the wax melted before her eyes and dripped off, quietly, deliberately onto her skin.
The pain was immediate. The wax made a small hissing noise as it met her cool skin. Cordelia could hold on no longer; a cry was torn from her throat as the flame moved ever closer.
***
This was torture. Worse than what he’d been through in hell, worse than anything he’d ever felt in his entire life and unlife. The vampire cult who’d forced their way into the mansion and struck him down were torturing Cordelia with what he thought might be fire and he could do nothing about it.
Angel couldn’t see, but he could hear the gutrenching screams that were coming from Cordelia. Adrenalin pumped through his body and he tried once again to pull free from the chains that were holding him to the wall, to no avail. They had been made to hold vampires, and hold vampires they did. He made a sound deep inside his throat and it came out stifled by the gag. Even to his own ears it sounded futile and pathetic.
“Pass me that one,” he heard who must have been the leader say. A few minutes later, Cordelia’s screams tripled in volume and desperation as Angel heard the flame bite into some part of her body, sizzling with heat and chemistry, and smelt the distinctive sickening smell of burning flesh.
That smell…it triggered a memory deep inside his mind and he realised who the cult were. They had no name, but their aim was to raise their leader and rule the world. He knew, because he’d once tried to join them. They’d rejected him because as Angelus he was too hungry for power. As the memories flowed back, the ritual fell into place. On Valentine’s Day’s night, the slayer’s skin had to be burnt and charred until she begged for mercy; then, the man whom she loved would go through the same torture until he did. After that, both of their hearts would be cut out and drained over the effigy to raise the demon who the cult worshipped.
Begging was the key.
Angel recalled that after the third candle had burnt down, the lover’s blindfold and gag would be taken away. He stopped struggling against the chains and concentrated on stopping himself from vomiting. He’d seen a lot of awful things in his time- he’d been the cause of most of them- but nothing compared to this. If it had been Buffy, it wouldn’t have been so bad. She was built to fight the bad guys, she had trained for three years for scenarios just like this. But Cordelia- she did this out of choice. She did it because, underneath her popular Queen C persona was a person who cared about others. She did her best to hide it, but Angel saw right through it. He didn’t know how; maybe it was the way she smiled when something good happened, or when she made someone laugh. Maybe it was how even though it went against everything she had ever knew or wanted, she still sat in the library with an open book on her lap, researching all the beasts and evil that Buffy had to fight.
He admired a person who couldn’t turn their back on the darkness in the world.
Or maybe it was just because she was possibly the most beautiful thing he had ever laid eyes upon. His mind briefly flicked to Buffy, the girl he was supposed to love, but he was brought back to the present by a request for the third candle. Not long to go, and he’d be able to see what they were doing. His stomach churned even more. How could be feel sick when he didn’t eat? Why did he feel so out of breath when he didn’t breathe?
One more long, shrill shriek from Cordelia and he heard movement, then his blindfold and gag were released. The sight that greeted him made the unnecessary air catch in his throat. Cordelia’s skin was red and charred; the wicks of three used candles lay in a triangle around her belly button and to top off the humiliation she was almost naked. She lay there, her chest heaving and her fingers clutching at some comfort that wasn’t there. Her knees were bent as far as they could go, her muscles pulled taught with the need to get away from the burning, burning flames.
“Cordelia?” Angel said tentatively. She turned her face towards him, her eyes closed against the torment that she was going through. Tears that had been shed had left long, glittering marks down her lovely face and her lip was bleeding from where she’d bitten into it to try and stop the pain.
“Angel?” her voice was little more than a sigh, full of desperation and resignation, the voice of someone who knew that death was near. “Angel, I can’t see you.”
“You have to open your eyes,” Angel replied. She did so gradually, squinting against the light cast by the candles.
“Angel, I’m so sorry. I tried to get Buffy, I did. I couldn’t do anything else…” she trailed off, not crying, just staring at Angel, her big brown eyes showing him the sorrow she felt at not being able to save him.
“Cordelia, you can stop all this. All you have to do is beg for mercy and they’ll stop. They’ll move onto me…”
“No,” she said, shaking her head rapidly, the fire coming back into her eyes. “No, you can’t die.”
“They’ll leave you alone, Cordelia, please.”
“No,” she said firmly. “You’re more important than I am.” She looked the male vampire right in the eyes. “Is that all you’ve got? I’ll die before I beg for mercy from you.”
“So be it,” was the reply, and a fourth candle was applied to Cordelia’s skin. Angel watched as Cordelia kept her mouth set in a steely line; apparently, in her mind not begging meant not screaming either, even when blood began to pour from a deep wound inflicted on her stomach.
“No,” Angel muttered, rattling the chains that held him static. “Stop! I beg for her mercy!” The vampires laughed loudly, mocking him.
“It is not your place to beg for her mercy,” said the woman vampire, snarling at him. He snarled back, feeling his face take on its vampire features. Rage always brought out the demon in him, made him stronger and what he was feeling now was the purest rage he had ever felt. He could feel the metal bending out of shape as he threw himself back and forth, never once taking his eyes off the woman who was lying on the floor, taking all that pain so that he might live another day.
“Take your hands off my Cordy,” he growled as one last tug brought the chains crashing out of the wall. The guarding vampires stood stunned. Angel couldn’t remember what happened next, only that one minute he was pulling off vampire’s heads and the next he was unchaining Cordelia from the floor. She lay limp, not moving.
“Cordelia?”
She moved, taking in a deep breath and coughing, throwing up over the floor until she retched and there was nothing else there. She looked up at him, blinking.
“Is it over? Did I die?”
Angel let out what might have been a snort but which was more likely a small sob. “No, you didn’t die. You saved us.”
She smiled up at him and held out her arms. He lifted her off the floor, cradling her head in his lap as the tears which she had held in came spilling out, soaking his trousers and forming a salty puddle on the cold, hard floor.
Angel almost dropped Cordelia when the door to the mansion was flung open. The sudden draught extinguished all the candles and left the mansion in almost complete darkness.
“Angel?” Buffy’s voice rang out as light blossomed from the small lamp Angel kept by his bedside. Buffy, Willow and Xander were illuminated.
“Oh my god,” Xander exclaimed, covering his mouth with his hands. Willow just turned away burying her head in his chest. Buffy took tentative steps forward, kneeling down next to Angel and Cordelia.
“What happened?” she asked, reaching out for Angel.
“Vampire cult. Burnt her with the candles,” he said, shifting away from her touch and staring down at Cordelia, who had started to stir. He hastily grabbed a blanket from a nearby chair, tentatively covering her up, trying to preserve her modesty and miss the burn marks at the same time. “They thought she was you,” he accused, not taking his eyes off Cordelia. Buffy looked at him and stood up, crossing her arms.
“You’re blaming me for this?”
“Buffy,” Xander chided, taking her place on the floor. He touched Cordelia lightly on the arm and she shrank away from him, eyes wide.
“It’s alright, Cordy, it’s me,” he said softly.
“Don’t touch me.”
“I’ll get you home…”
“She said, don’t touch her,” Angel growled, gathering Cordelia and the blanket up in his arms and slowly rising to his feet.
Buffy laid her hand on Angel’s forehead, examining the bruise which had appeared when the cult had knocked Angel out. He’d forgotten all about it.
“Let me help you. Xander can take Cordelia home.”
“We don’t need you!” Angel stepped away from Buffy and Xander. “You don’t understand. Cordelia could have stopped this, but she didn’t. She was going to die for me.” He held her prone form closer and she huddled into him, her body only now going into shock.
“But the sun will be up soon.”
“I don’t care.”
“Angel?” Cordelia’s small voice came from inside the bundle of blankets surrounding her.
Angel shifted her in his arms so that she was more comfortable and placed a small kiss on her forehead. “It’s OK, Cordy. You’re going to be fine.”
He turned his back on a wide-mouthed Buffy and Xander and walked out into the night, shielding Cordelia’s body from the chill air.
“You won’t leave me, will you?” she asked.
Angel looked down at the strong woman in his arms, wondering how he had ever missed her. There would never be anybody else now, not ever. He smiled. “I’ll never leave you, Cordelia.”
She began to cry softly.End.