Title: Wavelengths
Author: Lysa
Posted: 06-15-2004
Email: lysawhitmore@aol.com
Rating: PG-13
Category: BtVS Crossover: Angst/Humor
Content: C/A
Summary: Having dealt with Connor’s potential kidnappers, Angel finds that his greatest threat actually comes from Sunnydale.
Spoilers: AtS Season 3, between ‘Dad’ and ‘Birthday’
Disclaimer: The characters in the Angelverse were created by Joss Whedon & David Greenwalt. No infringement is intended, no profit is made.
Distribution: Anywhere…please let me know.
Notes: This was supposed to be a standalone, but as I have a vacation on the horizon, I’m going to break it into chapters and post this in the serial section. Try not to faint at the fic rating or chapter length.
Feedback: Absolutely! Please send some my way. FB keeps my muse happy.
Thanks/Dedication:
Part 1Unbidden it stirs
Unseen it flows from the heart
Rising from the soul
Now trapped by shadows
A flame flickering to life
Hope lighting the way
It burns through the cold
Leaving behind winter’s chill
Existing unnamed
The soft feminine sounds of Cordelia’s voice filtered up to Angel’s ears as he descended the stairs to the Hyperion lobby. A smile tugged at his lips knowing instantly who the recipient of her attention was. Every day he woke up in amazement at the thought that he had a son. Miracle or mistake, none of that mattered. Connor belonged to him and his first priority was keeping his son safe.
Now that the immediate threat appeared to be over, Angel had sent the others out for the day. They deserved some time away from the mayhem that had preceded and followed Connor’s arrival into the world. For some reason Cordelia stayed behind. He thought she would be just as eager as the others to escape the confines of the hotel and the clean-up work they still needed to complete.
Just the sight of her holding his son brought a lump to his throat. Only an hour before Darla showed up, perhaps minutes, Angel had admitted to himself that something was different about his feelings for Cordelia Chase. It took Fred’s crazy assumption that there was something more going on between him and Cordelia besides friendship to convince him that he wasn’t even ready to think about it.
Then Wes had asked a simple question about where he’d gotten the fake flowers brightly adorning the otherwise dreary basement. Angel realized he was drowning in denial even as the lie tripped from his lips. After that, he couldn’t get Cordelia out of his head. He’d sought her out as she worked at her desk, attempted to figure things out in his head, only he got caught staring.
When Cordelia mentioned the L-word, Angel thought he might jump out of his skin. He had barely considered the fact that his feelings for her might be something more and here she was freely talking about love. Except it wasn’t that kind of love, not the passionate kind, but the love of friendship and family. The kind they all shared.
Angel no more had time to register his utter relief as it mixed with disappointment than Darla had announced her presence. Her arrival killed any hope he thought he might have with Cordelia, the lie he’d spoken months earlier now coming back to haunt him in more ways than one. He would never forget what Darla did to save their son, to bring him into the world by sacrificing her own existence, but seeing Connor in Cordelia’s arms made him think of the future and long for a possibility he felt certain could never exist.
There was no pretence in Cordelia, no artifice at all when it came to telling him how she felt or in the way she put aside all of her anger at him to help care for his son. There was no hint of it in those hazel eyes now gazing at him from across the room.
“Look who’s here, Connor,” she told the baby as she moved from her position on the couch to greet him knowing Angel would want to see his son first thing. “It’s Daddy. Yes, your very own big strong Daddy who forgot to ask Uncle Lorne if he could stay with you today,” Cordelia added in that same soft tone, her smile stretching a bit too far.
“Lorne isn’t around? That’s why you didn’t go to the carnival with the others,” Angel’s eyes widened at the realization that he had assumed a little too much about Lorne’s free time and Cordelia’s reasons for staying behind.
Still cradling Connor in her arms, Cordelia admitted, “I don’t mind. This is nice being here when it’s quiet for a change.”
“Thanks for looking after the baby this morning,” Angel offered genuinely. “You could have brought him back up to my room.”
Cordelia glanced toward the stairs before her gaze flickered back to him for a second before moving to look down at Connor’s sleepy face. Talking to the baby instead of directly to him, she whispered, “We didn’t mind a little alone time, did we sweetie pie?”
Stepping closer, Angel reached out to touch a hand to his son’s head with its soft peach-fuzz hair. His other hand automatically moved along Cordelia’s back, just to hold her there long enough to feel her presence. He knew she wouldn’t be there for long. He could count the seconds before she piped up to say, “Well, I suppose you want to hold, Connor. Here ya go.”
“He’s nearly asleep,” Angel pointed out.
“Oh. Yeah. Right,” Cordelia noticed the droopy pink lids. “I’d better put him down in his little bed.”
Angel dropped his hand, letting her move over to the portable bassinette that they kept downstairs. She’d pulled it over by the couch. This being a Saturday, Cordelia had purposefully stayed away from her desk, especially in light of the fact that the others were all down at the boardwalk without her.
“Cordy, I’m sorry you missed going to the carnival today,” Angel felt the guilt churn in his gut. If anyone deserved a little life and fun, it should be her.
Gently settling the baby into his bassinette, Cordelia then turned back to the vampire who appeared to be headed into early brood mode. “Don’t even go there, big guy. It was my decision to stay when Lorne told me he had to go out. If I wanted to go with the guys that badly, I would have dragged your butt outta bed.”
She would’ve, too, Angel guessed, his mouth twisting into a smile as he pictured her doing just that. Taking a step closer, he queried, “Is that so?”
A pointed finger playfully poked into his chest as Cordelia squared off against him. “You bet I would and don’t think I’m not counting this as a day off you owe me.”
The tease in her smile drew Angel closer still until her head tilted back just to meet his gaze. When the bright dancing lights in those hazel orbs froze under the weight of his unintentional stare, he heard her heartbeat quicken as she held her breath in anticipation. It wasn’t fear he sensed, but it was something more than surprise at the fact that he couldn’t seem to keep his eyes off her.
Angel figured it might have been his sudden inability to stop touching her as he noted almost absently that his hands were curved around her, splayed wide across her back and hip. He half expected her to jump out of his arms claiming he was breaching her personal bubble, but her only movement was the short catch of her breath as her body reasserted its demand for air.
Moving his hand from her hip, Angel let his fingers trail down the soft contours of her cheek to the stretchy plastic of the bandage still covering the healing wounds on her throat. Darla had nearly taken her life and the fact that he’d been too distracted to stop it from happening made him sick at the thought. Dropping his hands away, he stepped back, a dark cloud covering his features as the memory filled his mind.
“What’s with the doom and gloom?” Cordelia asked as confusion settled in. Trying to figure out what was going on in Angel’s head was like weaving through a maze. The twists and turns were confusing, but for some reason the root of the problem always turned out blond.
Trying to bring back the smile she’d seen on his face as he descended the stairs, Cordelia commented, “Technically it’s Wes who’ll owe me the day off. Though I doubt he’ll consider that to be part of my Vision Girl job descript— oh, God! Angel,” she let out a yelp of pain just before her body tumbled toward the floor.
Whirling to face her in a rush of vampiric speed, Angel bent his body low catching Cordelia before she could hit the ground. Experience had his hands slipping into place, protecting her flailing body as it seized and shuddered with the force of her vision. The scent of her tears hit the air and Angel gathered her close, soothing her even as he tried to stamp out the fear that rose up inside him each and every time this happened.
She was sobbing in his arms.
“Tell me, Cordy,” he encouraged softly. He knew by the look in her eyes that it was awful.
Clutching his shirt, Cordelia’s voice cracked as she finally found the breath to speak. “Run! Oh, God, please. Angel, go now.”
Taken aback, Angel knew he wasn’t going anywhere. Not without knowing why. Not with out her and his son safe beside him. “Wh-What is it?”
“Now means now,” Cordelia tried to push at his chest to get him to move.
He did, sweeping her up into his arms and moving her over to the couch where he looked down at his still sleeping son. How the hell was he supposed to get Cordelia out of here? In this state she could barely walk. It usually took a few minutes for her to recover from a vision. There was only one way to carry them both.
“Hold on, Cordy,” he told her while shifting her over one shoulder. “Try not to move. I need to pick up Connor.”
Cordelia squirmed against his shoulder until she fell onto the couch. There was no time for escape. Not for her. Now it was too late for all of them. “They’re already here.”
Even before the warning left her lips, Angel was spinning around to face the trio of young men who stood just inside the Hyperion doors. Garbed in matching khaki pants and black shirts, they hardly looked imposing enough to merit Angel’s concern. If it wasn’t for Cordelia’s vision, he would have put these three into the category of a mild irritant.
All human, two of them scrawny specimens, he noted with an assessing glance. Only one carried what appeared to be a weapon, a large metallic object that Angel would guess might have been inspired by one of Gunn’s electronic games.
“Cordy,” he spoke softly, but loud enough for the seer to hear him. “Take Connor and go.”
“Not so fast,” the tallest of the three intruders spoke up as Cordelia made an effort to do just that. “We’re here for the kid. According to our internet sources, that baby is worth a fortune. Give him up now and we won’t have to fry you with our… our…”
Picking up where the first guy left off, “Uh, our super laser electro-magic thingie.”
Angel actually laughed, suddenly figuring this might not be as dangerous as Cordelia seemed to believe. “Say that again?”
The shortest of the trio gave his partners in crime a dark look, “I told you we should have come up with a name for it first.”
Part 2
Now trapped by shadows
A flame flickering to life
Hope lighting the way
It burns through the cold
Leaving behind winter’s chill
Existing unnamed
Still unrecognized
Welling from the darkest depths
Unspoken but there
Though her arms were already full of stuffed animals won by Gunn and Wesley on their afternoon of amusement at the boardwalk carnival, there was one more place that Fred wanted to go. She nodded in the direction of the colorful window display and the sign proclaiming Madame Bosha could predict the future for an exchange of silver coin.
“C’mon, guys, it’ll be fun,” Fred grinned big and let out an eager giggle while heading straight toward the shop.
A pair of male groans accompanied their otherwise acquiescent move to follow. Gunn pursed his thick lips as he paused at the doorway, “Gotta admit I’m not exactly into palm reading and crystal balls.”
Wesley simply shrugged as he commented, “Considering the fact that we have our own seer, paying good money to a gypsy fortune teller at a boardwalk carnival does seem like a waste of time.”
By the time they reached the interior of the shop, which appeared more like a magic or herbalist shop rather than a simple tourist attraction, Fred was already ensconced at the small table in the center of the room. The old woman sitting across from her dressed in the traditional garb one might expect of a carnival employee, the bright cloth somewhere between Romany design and a costume. Wesley noted it without really looking closely.
“The cost of a fortune is four carnival tickets plus one silver coin,” the woman placed her hand on the table to indicate that Fred should put the tickets and money there.
Fred stared at the gypsy’s hand for a moment as she dug into the pocket of her blue jeans to pull out the necessary coin. Curled fingers with brittle, but well-tended nails tapped upon the fringed cloth covering the table. Knuckles knobby with arthritic signs and the dark spots that marked the otherwise pale skin of the back of her hand gave the young Texan the impression that she was far past the time for retirement despite her active business.
Glancing into her fathomless black eyes, Fred saw the wisdom of ages. Gulping down her sudden nervousness, a feeling that had overtaken her enthusiasm the moment the woman’s greeting sounded in her ear, she grabbed one of the smaller stuffed animals that she’d placed in the chair next to her feeling the sudden need to hold onto something.
“I do not bite,” the gypsy laughed, a surprisingly melodious sound accentuated by a light Eastern European accent. “There is no need for Scooby Doo to protect you within my Ofisa.”
Gunn snorted from his position somewhere behind Fred and she resisted the urge to tell him he could wait outside. “I-I’ve never done this before,” she admitted as that gnarled hand reached across the table for hers.
“It is painless, though the future is rarely so,” the gypsy cautioned. “Prepare yourself for whatever may be revealed. Though the future may sometimes be clouded, my people possess the ability to peer through the haze of the unknown and gain a glimpse of what lies ahead.”
From a corner where he was examining a series of objects on a crowded shelf, Wes commented with a droll twist to his words, “The Romany have practiced majicks for centuries. We are acquainted with that. However, there are rare few who possess the knowledge of their elders.”
The old woman merely nodded her acknowledgment of his skepticism. Turning back to Fred, she smiled briefly as she held her hand palm upward, “Relax, daughter.” Her eyes never wavered from Fred’s deep brown orbs. “Let us see where life and love and past and present combine before delving into the dark waters of the future.”
“Okay,” Fred responded agreeably.
“You have recently returned from a long journey,” the gypsy hummed with interest as she turned Fred’s hand this way and that. “From a place beyond our seeing eyes.”
Nodding, Fred let out a little gasp of surprise, “Pylea.”
“Your mental health was not ideal for a while, but you have improved dramatically with the care of your friends,” she claimed before following a line on her palm with one finger. “This tells me you are in love.”
“Me?” Fred’s spine snapped straight as she sat back in the chair, but her eyes did not move from the gypsy’s face. She could feel the weight of other interested gazes upon her just before their conspiratorial whispering reached her ears. A stream of unintelligible babble followed.
“Gotta be Angel, man,” Gunn said under his breath to Wesley. “You know what she’s been like ever since she got back.”
Wes knew the story all too well. During the little time Fred had spent with them while Angel was on sabbatical in the Himalayas, the vampire was the one consistent thing she talked about. It got to the point that if he heard the story of her rescue one more time, he thought he would have to scream.
Still, the way she recounted the tale enchanted him despite the fact that she clearly kept Angel on a pedestal. “A champion riding in on a white horse does mak—.”
A startled cry sounded as the gypsy woman reeled back, dropping Fred’s hand in the process and staring at her with a look of horror on her face. “Armaya! The curse. You are human minions of the souled one.”
“Angel?” Wesley immediately stepped forward realizing that this gypsy was certainly the genuine deal. There was no way she could jump to that subject just by staring at Fred’s open palm. He didn’t bother to correct her assumption that they were Angel’s underlings. “You know about the curse.”
Wrapping her shawl more tightly around her shoulders, the gypsy reached for the coin Fred had placed on the table top. Pushing it toward her, she said, “Go now. I will say no more.”
“No,” Gunn came around to the other side of the table. “Now I ain’t putting no hurt on you, grandma, but you better tell us how you know so much.”
The woman stubbornly turned her head away. Wesley didn’t need to hear her answer as it was perfectly clear to him, “You are Kalderash Romani, descended from the clan that cursed Angelus with a soul.”
A curt nod followed, “This is true.”
“We’re not Angel’s minions,” Fred corrected her softly, “but we do help him with his mission. He’s a true champion.”
“A champion?” One hand clutched the shawl close to her throat. Disbelief dripped heavily as she spoke, her native accent thicker than before, “A vampire?”
Fred nodded vehemently, “Oh, yes. Angel’s a hero, a warrior for the Powers that Be. He helps the helpless.”
Despite her own skepticism on the subject, Madame Bosha appeared to be listening. “How can one such as he be blessed with such loyal companions? This is forbidden. He who is cursed by the Kalderash people to suffer eternity was not meant for such a life. You are…his friends.”
Fred didn’t like the talk of eternal suffering, but the gypsy woman had it all wrong. “Sure we are. Wes and Gunn and me, we’re all Angel’s friends. Then there’s Cordy, of course, but they have Kyrumption. And baby Connor, too, that’s Angel’s son. You never saw a more doting daddy.”
After a long pause, Madame Bosha questioned that she had heard correctly, “Son?”
It was Wesley who confirmed, “Yes, Angel has a son whose coming was prophesied in the ancient scroll of Aberjan.”
“He is human, this child?”
“Yes,” Wes nodded.
A puzzled look appeared on her face as if she was wrestling with her own thoughts on the subject. “Then he has a soul…like his father.”
Moving with slow surety, the gypsy grasped the edge of a silk cloth covering an object at the center of the table. She pulled it aside to reveal a large crystal globe. Gunn let out a groan upon seeing it, “Why did I know that was gonna be there?”
“Perhaps you are psychic,” she quipped sardonically. Then thought with complete certainty, Devlesa avilan,Gadjo. “God brought you to me. Do not diminish the importance of your coming with such closed-mindedness.”
Wes whispered, helpfully pointing out, “The crystals generally help the mystic focus inwardly upon their target subject. They don’t really see images in the crystal, but in their mind’s eye.”
Gunn looked less than impressed. “Just the same hocus-pocus mumbo-jumbo that got us trapped in Pylea in the first place.”
“But you rescued me,” Fred reminded even as the gypsy shushed them.
“Yeah,” Gunn nodded and his mouth curled up into a smile as he met Fred’s gaze. “We did.”
Holding up her hands, Madame Bosha reminded them of her need for concentration. After a few moments of staring into the depths of the clear crystal, she spoke, “The child is special. False prophesies surround him. Beware lest these lies drive you to a future surrounded by darkness.”
Asking for clarification, Wes made an attempt to talk, but once again, she held a crooked finger to her thin lips. “Hush. There is more. The child is in danger. It harkens at your door even as we speak. If you would aid the vampire in his cause to save him…go now.”
“Lady, you are freakin’ me out.” As she sat back in her chair, Gunn held out his hands as if warding off further sharing of information. This was somehow way more weird than Cordy getting a vision. Commenting to Wes and Fred, “I dunno if half of what she says is true, but I say we don’t stick around just in case she’s right. Let’s go.”
Fred jumped out of her seat, gathering up her prizes and heading after Charles Gunn as quickly as she could. Before Wes could follow her out, a hand clamped down over his wrist in a surprisingly strong grasp. “Light itself will hide the truth. For it runs far deeper than the visible. Look for the Eye of Dakronn to reveal it.”
“Dakronn? Wh—,” Wes started to ask for more information, but the gypsy released his wrist and waved her hand in the direction of the exit.
“Go now,” Madame Bosha ordered sternly. “The danger draws near and I will say no more.”
Part 3
It burns through the cold
Leaving behind winter’s chill
Existing unnamed
Still unrecognized
Welling from the darkest depths
Unspoken but there
Called by many names
Soaring to heights unmeasured
Bolstered by dreams
Cordelia struggled to stay on her feet and focus on the intruders standing across the lobby. With her head pounding, she wanted nothing more than to close her eyes to block out the artificial light brightening the lobby. Though her vision hadn’t revealed the identity of their assailants, it only took a moment for Cordelia to recognize just who had darkened their door.
“Jonathan?” she blinked twice as she took in the sight of the young man who did not seem to have changed one bit since high school graduation.
A look of surprise came over his face, an out-of-place smile replacing his previously unyielding features. “Cordelia Chase? Wow! What are you doing here in LA?”
“Oh, you know… stardom,” she let out a fake laugh while grabbing Angel’s shirt from behind and giving it a hard tug. Stage-whispering an order, “Move your ass. Now.”
Angel ignored the demand. “You know this guy?” Obviously, she did. He stared back at the unimposing figure before letting his gaze move back to the one holding the weapon.
“Sunnydale,” Cordelia explained. “That’s Jonathan, who used to be a nice guy in a geeky kinda way.”
A little pout came over Jonathan’s mouth as he remembered the day Cordelia Chase almost had coffee with him at the Bronze, a cinnamon, chocolate, half-caf, non-fat cappuccino with extra foam to be precise. Of course he hadn’t gotten it right, so she took the muffin he’d ordered and left him to drink the coffee alone.
“Mister He-Thinks-He’s-So-Studly with the shiny weapon there is Warren. He always was a creep,” Cordelia added with a glare. “The other guy…I don’t know.”
Jonathan snapped out of his little trip down memory lane to say, “Andrew is Tucker’s brother.”
“Ohhh! No wonder I don’t remember you,” a little bit of the old Queen C edging back into her tone. Cordelia settled her hands on her hips, now feeling the adrenalin rushing through her. This little conversation hadn’t changed a damn thing about the reason these guys showed up here nor was it going to alter what she’d seen in her vision.
Though the images that rattled in her head had to be wrong, she told herself. They had to be. Moving toward the bassinette, she quickly picked Connor up cradling him close. Angel knew exactly what she’d done even though he was already inching away from them trying to draw Warren’s attention.
“Could you hand over the baby now?” Andrew asked almost politely. “We need to get back to our lair before Warren’s mom calls to check on us.”
“Ixnay on the airlay.” Warren griped at him while tracking Angel’s progress across the room, pointing the laser gun directly at him. “I don’t care if the baby belongs to Queen C or Princess Leia. We’re still taking the kid with us. He’s way too valuable.”
Cordelia’s heart pounded a little faster as she realized Warren thought Connor was her baby too. He might as well be. She couldn’t help but love the little guy. Damned if she was gonna let anything happen to him.
“That’s the last time you threaten my son,” Angel ground out the words through his teeth. He’d reached a spot where he was far enough away from Cordelia and Connor not to put them in danger when he made his move. He only hoped he was fast enough.
Seeing the vampire’s body tense a moment before his body became a blur of motion, Andrew called out, “Charge the ray gun.”
Warren was already on it, his eyes going wide as the distance between him and a very pissed off vampire closed quickly. “Charging.”
Simultaneously, Jonathan and Andrew started to run in opposite directions, both heading away from the main target zone as quickly as possible. Angel executed a flying leap, twisting around and landing directly behind Warren, grabbing him up in one hand and tossing him like a rag doll across the Hyperion lobby.
Letting out a screech, Warren slid from one side of the room to the other. “It’s not working.” He panicked as Angel stalked forward, this time taking one determined step after another. A ka-chink sounded from the laser followed by a low buzz.
Jonathan gasped as he realized the weapon was about to overload. “The blue button. Push the blue button.”
“Angel!” Cordelia cried out his name as the sound signaled a resonant note from her vision. Having made it to the weapon cabinet, she was in the process of pulling out a crossbow and loading the bolt one-handed. It barely made it into place before she turned, crossbow in one hand and the baby cradled with the other.
One last time, a warning sounded on her lips, “Get out of th—”
Too late, her words accompanied a blinding flash of light discharged from the ray gun. Hitting Angel mid-chest, it threw him into the air, his body still aglow as it hit the ground. The agonizing sound of his scream faded and when the light dimmed, Cordelia saw that there was nothing left behind. Not even ashes.
Another wail sounded, but this came from Connor who awakened with a vengeance at the noise interrupting his sleep. Cordelia touched her cheek to his forehead, “Shh, sweetie.” Stinging tears glistened in her eyes as she wondered why the PTB would send her a vision of Angel’s death only minutes before it was to happen. There was not enough time to avert it, not with Angel being so damn stubborn.
Cordelia glanced to her left noting that Andrew stood between her and the hall where the basement door was a possible route of escape. To her right was Jonathan, who now blocked the way to the stairs. Warren remained in the middle of the foyer. He got to his feet, a smug grin spread across his face.
“That wasn’t so hard. Looks like we have a few bugs to work out with our… our...,” he hesitated again.
Andrew piped up, “Super laser ele—”
“Whatever!” snapped Cordelia. Raising her crossbow, she pointed it directly at Warren. Betting he couldn’t get the ray gun charged again before she pulled the trigger, Cordelia started moving forward. Right now Warren stood between her and a path out of the hotel. “Get out of my way.”
“Three of us and one of you, Cordelia,” he pointed out the odds. “Wanna bet your pom-poms we get outta here with the brat?”
She knew without looking that Jonathan and Andrew were closing in on her from behind, but didn’t take her eyes off of their over-confident cohort. “Let’s try to even out the numbers a little.”
A second later, Warren screeched in pain as the crossbow bolt hit him in the leg. “She shot me,” he sounded amazed. No matter that Cordelia Chase had hung out with Buffy Summers’ crowd during Senior Year, he never expected the former May Queen to pull that trigger.
Cordelia didn’t stop to enjoy what little revenge she had time to take; she dropped the crossbow, pulled the wailing baby into a more protected hold and made a run for the front door. Somehow, Andrew managed to get there first. “Ah-ah-ah! No escape. We can’t let you go.”
Taking a good look, Cordelia figured she could take out Andrew with a swift kick in the right location and was preparing to do just that when she felt something sharp poke her back. “Ow! Jonathan?”
“Sorry, Cordelia,” he told her honestly. Having taken a dagger from the weapons cabinet, he held its deadly tip against the thin material of her blouse pressing just hard enough for a red spot to form in a small patch across the gauzy white material. “I don’t want to hurt you, but I will.”
Slowly, Cordelia turned around to face him. With Warren still writhing in pain on the floor, she figured it might be possible to convince Jonathan to let them go. “Don’t do this.”
She bounced a little as she made the plea, trying to get Connor to go back to sleep. Her headache was all but forgotten with all that had happened in the past few minutes, but she didn’t want his crying to irritate these guys into forcing him to shut up. Who knew what they might do to a baby.
“Why are you doing this?” Cordelia asked trying to focus on Connor and not what they had done to Angel. “Look at his tiny face, Jonathan. He’s a little person with a heart and a soul.”
Jonathan forced his guilt-ridden gaze away from the baby’s face and back to Cordelia who kept trying to edge away from the dagger. “Money,” he told her the simple truth. “We need big bucks to fund our operation. Taking over Sunnydale doesn’t come cheap.”
“Doing what?” Cordelia huffed in disbelief. “You three plan t— Buffy will stop you.”
Struggling to his feet, Warren hobbled in their direction, the bolt still imbedded in his leg. “The Slayer will be powerless against us. Just like your vampire boyfriend.”
Cordelia didn’t bother correcting their oh-so wrong assumptions. “If it’s money you want, let me call David Nabbit. He’ll pay off whatever ransom you ask.” Plus have the cops on your ass so fast you wouldn’t have time to blink.
“Nabbit?” asked Andrew sounding eager. “The software guru. He’s like my Obi-Wan. You actually know David Nabbit? Maybe we could we just ask for the prototype of GameStar’s ‘Dungeon of Dread’. It’s not supposed to come out for distribution for another six months.”
A weighty pause filled the air and Cordelia realized the trio was actually considering the option. Then Warren broke the silence, “We can buy all of the games we want after the pay-off. Forget David Nabbit,” he turned to Cordelia, his face twisted into a scowl. “You think I’d let you off so easy after what you did to me, bitch?”
“You K-I-L-L-E-D Angel,” Cordelia whispered furiously, conscious of the fact that Connor was right there and too upset to even consider that it was a little over the top to think that hearing the news might scar the infant’s developing psyche. “And don’t use that tone with me, buddy. Not in front of the baby.”
“Just fork over the kid. Andrew, you take him,” Warren growled impatiently. “If Jonathan won’t use that dagger, I certainly will.”
Standing her ground, Cordelia clutched Connor close to her breast, arms covering as much of his tiny form as she could manage to shield him. “Connor stays with me. I go where he goes.”
Maybe she couldn’t get out of this now, but Cordelia was determined not to let the baby out of her sight. She owed it to Angel to protect his son. Oh, God. Oh, God! Angel.
Jonathan tightened his grip on the dagger. He really had no intention of stabbing Cordelia. He wasn’t a murderer, at least, not when it came to killing his friends. And though he wasn’t exactly likely to be on her top ten list of favorite people, especially now, he’d always had a soft spot for her. “W-We could use her to look after the baby while we’re waiting for the bids to come in.”
“I second that,” Andrew quickly raised his hand to agree. Somehow he’d drawn the short straw in being assigned to baby-sitting duties. Being the youngest child in his own family had not exactly given him experience when it came to squalling infants.
“Agreed,” sighed Warren concurring with the rationale. Besides, it might be a bad idea to leave Cordelia behind. She knew too much about them. “It’s been quite a while since High School. Guess we’ll have time to catch up.”
Cordelia tried not to shudder as his gaze followed the curves of her body. Ignoring the innuendo in his voice, she pointed out, “You’ll need stuff for Connor.”
“Stuff?” Warren asked absently.
“Baby things, dumbass,” she told him, “formula, bottles, diapers.”
Andrew was suddenly glad Warren had agreed to bringing her along. “Are we really gonna have him that long?”
Then he answered his own question as he thought back to their plan. “It may take a couple of days to set up the secure online auction and make sure all of the interested parties are participating.”
Cordelia fought to hold her tongue knowing that anything she might say could make them change their mind about letting her go with them. Hearing Warren tell Andrew and Jonathan to keep an eye on her as she gathered the things she needed, Cordelia wondered if she could stall long enough for the others to get back from the carnival. She had no idea what time they were planning to come home, but if fortune was on her side, it would be soon.
Not bothering to hide his pain, Warren pulled out the crossbow bolt and wrapped up his leg with bandages she’d given him— only after he demanded them. She wasn’t about to help him with it.
Moving as slowly as possible as she gathered up Connor’s belongings, Cordelia tried to find the opportunity to jot down a note or leave some kind of message that would point the way to Sunnydale, but Andrew and Jonathan watched her too closely. The baby remained awake, but quiet. His tiny hand held a fistful of Cordelia’s blouse as if trying to hold on to her as snuggly as she held him.
“Come on guys,” she whispered, continuously glancing toward the hotel doors. “Need a little rescuing here.”
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