Title: A Rummage Through the Past
Author: zarah
Rating: PG 13 for mild use of language.
Summary: Set five years in the future. Let's just say that when Cordelia left after 'Couplet'. she didn't come back. Oh, and after she left, the whole AI fell apart. Angel and Connor are not living in the hotel anymore, they've sold it. And. and I'm not going to say anything more about it because then that would just ruin the whole story
Spoilers: None
Distribution: Want, take, have. Just let me know where to look.
Notes: This had been in my head for about a month now, and I've never tried to write it until today. I just hope it's going to end up as I imagined it would.
Disclaimer: I own nothing, zip, nada.
Part 1 (of ?)
Angel stood in front of the grand hotel. His eyes roamed the exterior of the building, and it narrowed to thin slits as he took note of the damage that it already took. For the past five years, the beautiful hotel had been abandoned, and without the care that it usually received from it's inhabitants, it quickly deteriorated into a shadow of it's former self. It was a dent in the beautiful streets of L.A., a sight unworthy of anyone's eyes. To Angel, it was like seeing the hotel for the second time, the time when they were in search of a new home. It was the time when he had been with his friends, Wesley, Gunn and.
He gently shook his head to clear the unwanted thoughts.
Suddenly, a pair of small, chubby hands grabbed his pants and gently pulled. Angel looked down to see his five-year old son peering at him through sleepy eyes.
"Daddy, are we there yet?" he asked, and then yawned, his mouth momentarily forming a perfect O.
Angel ruffled his son's dark hair, so much like his own. "Yes, Connor, we're here."
"Okay," Connor muttered as he rubbed the sleep away from his eyes. When he turned away from his father to the direction of the hotel, his eyes widened at the sight. "Is this. is this the place where we lived before?" he asked in his sweet, childish voice.
"Yes." Angel replied, and then joined his son in staring at the building. "This is home."
"It's ugly. Can we go now?"
Angel chuckled at his son's bluntness. It was always his trademark. He was never afraid to speak his mind to anyone. And he guessed that Connor got it from no other than.
He forced his eyes closed, and prayed for a different thought. But with the familiar streets of the place he called home surrounding and drowning his senses, there was of little use in pushing the thoughts away.
He was back in L.A. Back in the place where he had lived a new life, with the people he had called his friends, with the people he had called his family. His own.
"Okay, Connor. We're going now." He said as he gently guided the boy back to the car. "But we're coming back."
*
The steel walls of the office provided very little comfort. Everywhere she looked, the feeling of coldness penetrated all the way to her bones. This wasn't a place she would have called home; but in the past few years, that's what this office had become to her. She had done everything she could to make her private space as placating as she could, but even with the few picture frames, the pretty curtains and the colorful plastic flowers, the overwhelming feeling of deadness still hung in the air. It was so thick that it almost choked her to death.
She had the feeling that the numbness had somehow wormed it's way through her heart. She could no longer feel anything. Everything that had happened to her had all become a blur. She felt like she was moving on a trance. Everyday was a monotonous routine; she would go to the office, work, go to her apartment and sleep. Nothing else was new. Nothing else was exciting.
How she missed her old life. But that was in the past, a chapter in her book that was best left unopened. She had long since forgotten that once upon a time, she was a princess, with a prince by her side. She had a champion who would risk his own life to save hers. She had a warrior whom she had publicly called a friend, yet in her heart she wished she could call him a lover.
But that was in the past. It was no longer important. There was of no use in rummaging through memories best kept inside her brain.
Now, as her perfectly-manicured hands delved through folders of paperwork, she gave a sigh, a soft sound that escaped her tightly pressed lips. The sound was miniscule in volume, yet it echoed in the room like a thousand panthers roaring in the night forest.
There was a knock on the door, and after a second, a woman opened it. Her secretary.
"Miss Chase, phone call, line 2." And then she was gone.
That's how that woman is. Cold, direct, no non-sense. Everybody in this damned office is like that.
Cold, direct, no non-sense. That was how she is, now.
Without another minute, she lifted the phone and spoke in a voice that no one in her life would recognize.
"Yes. I will take care of this business."
She had spent a year in perfecting her voice, a voice that had no warmth or emotion. It held nothing but an authoritative edge, because that's what she needed to have. She needed it because she was now in the position that anyone would kill for; in a company whose name spoke volumes, and with a salary that would forever keep her lavished.
Cordelia packed her things and stood up. She has work to do.
*
Angel stood in front of the Hyperion Hotel, a cellular phone in one hand, the light of the post overhead guiding his every move. He had just finished calling the organization that currently owns the building, and he was told that a representative was on his way to meet with him.
With a grit of his teeth, he looked at the hotel. Five years ago, he stood at the same spot. Five years ago, he took one last look, turned his back, and left. Five years ago, he signed a contract that would take away one of his most prized possessions.
Five years later, he was going to claim what was his.
He was paid handsomely by the company that he sold his hotel to. With that amount of money, he was able to buy a nice house, in the place where he had vowed to stay away from. Sunnydale.
But his heart remained in L.A. Specters of the place haunted his thoughts and dreams. Memories so wanted to be forgotten plagued his existence.
And now he was here.
Angel turned around when he heard the hiss of an engine drawing closer and closer still. He pocketed his phone, and kept silent.
With the velvety blanket of the dark, moonless night surrounding them, he could not see who he was about to meet. Yet the scent in the air told him that he was going to meet with a woman. She was lightly perfumed with an expensive brand, and her heels clicked against the stone floor with every step she took. The light revealed a pair of long, shapely legs, perfectly formed midsection, slightly full and rounded breasts. She exuded pure sexuality, like a fertile animal calling for a suitable mate.
It figures, he thought. Women working for Wolfram and Hart has the same kind of aura surrounding them.
"Good evening." He spoke in a voice so dark and deep it would have made the evening sky fall on it's knees in shame.
Angel heard a hitch in the breathing of the woman. And then, when the light revealed a face so familiar yet so foreign to him, he felt his body stiffening, his mind going perfectly blank.
"Good evening, Angel." Cordelia said in a voice he couldn't recall.
Part 2 (of ?)
Cordelia found it a miracle that she was able to hold her composure as she finally realized who she was going to meet with.
Now, as her eyes roamed the planes on his handsome face, she couldn't help but be disgusted at him. Five years had long since came and gone through her door, yet here he was, still looking like the same guy she had laid her eyes on that day that fate had arranged them to meet. Nothing in him changed. The same height, the same physique, the same ambiance of pure, raw strength still surrounding his every move. Yes, Cordelia thought wryly. Still the same man she had spent the best years of her life with.
And with that, she couldn't help but be disgusted at him. Because he was still the same man who alone can make her go weak on the knees and pray for him to catch her when she falls. And she couldn't help but be disgusted at herself, because here she was, wanting direly to drop everything she holds in her hands and run to the solace that only his arms could bring. Here she was, still feeling the same way she had before, like no time had passed between them.
Too bad her mind had more control over her heart. Because had she let her heart control her mind, she would have made a fool of herself by throwing herself at his feet. And that, Cordelia vowed, is something that the new her would never, ever allow herself to do.
She was here strictly on business. The past doesn't count. It's the present that is deemed important.
And today, they were both strangers to one another.
"Shall we start with business?" She asked, with an arch of her perfect brow.
Angel found it hard to find his voice. He stared at her beautiful face, the face that he had learned to care and love over the years that they had been together. But the face he was staring at now, was different from that of before. Before, she looked like an aristocrat, with her classical features befitting a queen about to be enthroned in the highest of pedestals. Before, her eyes shone with a brightness that could rival the stars, and it gave life to everything and everyone she sees.
But now. she looked like a goddess. A goddess with dead, unmoving eyes.
"Yes." He murmured darkly. "Let's."
*
Both figures entered the silent building, neither bodies touching the other' s. Angel let Cordelia take on the lead, and he followed shortly after.
The sound of their feet echoed in the quiet hotel.
Cordelia flicked open a light switch, and after some moments of flickering, the unused bulb gave illumination in an otherwise dark universe.
She set her attaché case on the desk, and Angel visibly flinched as he stared at the emblem on the front.
"Surprised?" Cordelia asked him as she noticed his reaction.
"Hardly." Angel retorted as he crossed his arms over his chest. "I've always known that you have the guts to do something like this, Cordelia."
Cordelia. How formal.
"Joining the enemy, I mean. It's something that only you can do." He continued.
Her eyes, dead before, had come to have a glossier exterior. "They've hardly become the enemy anymore. At least to me, they're not. In fact, they've been more a family to me than anyone I know." That was a lie, of course. But would she have admitted that to him? Never.
"How much did they pay you, Cordelia?" Angel asked, in a silky voice, a voice that has a reminiscent of Angelus.
"More than you could possibly know." He wanted to taunt her? Fine. But she won't give him the satisfaction of seeing how wounded she is with his words. She'd been exposed to harsher treatment from those ranks she had surpassed. But then, she didn't really care about what they think of her.
Just like she didn't care about how Angel thinks of her now.
"I've expected that from you." Angel said, as he leaned closer to her. Somehow, during the conversation, he had walked around the lobby, and had finally reached the place where he was but a breath away from her luscious body. "I've always known that you don't come cheap."
Cordelia felt her skin crawl as she let his voice engulf her entire body. "They know that, too." She said, letting her sweet breath play circles on his cold, hard face. "That's why they're doing everything in their power to keep me under their wings."
Angel stared at her eyes, and they stared right back at him. For a second, the fire in them had flared, but it dissipated as quickly as it blazed. They were dead again. Cold, hard, dead. Just like he was. He moved away from her. "Damn it, Cordelia." He swore as his back was still facing her. "Don't you dare play games with me." He snarled.
"Games are for children, Angel." Cordelia told him, her face showing no amount of concern or fear in his sudden burst of anger. "Games are for fools. For the weak. And we both know that none of us are either."
"You're wrong." Angel told her, as his eyes momentarily flickered from brown to gold, then back again. "You're a fool, Cordelia. I thought you were strong, I thought you were brave enough to face everything that comes your way. But you proved me wrong. You're weak. You're-"
"I did not come here to be insulted by you, you bastard." Cordelia said to him, her voice taking on a different edge. The files slipped unnoticed from her hands.
"Then why did you come here?" Angel ask, his voice suddenly soft, lost. "Why you?"
"Because they know that you can't kill me." She replied. "They know that you can't hurt me, just like you did with their other employees."
Angel smirked at her. "I wouldn't be too sure of that."
Cordelia graced him a smile that held falseness, conceit and glory. "You weren't able to do that five years ago, Angel." She said softly. "What made you think you can do that now?"
Part 3 (of ?)
Anger engulfed Angel as he stared at her smile.
With a hiss, he withdrew his eyes from her face and focused on other parts of the lobby.
He had to control his anger. He just had to. Or else, he could do something that he would surely regret later.
"My God, Angel." Cordelia said as she walked towards him. "Look at this place." She waved her hand around for emphasis. "It's dark, it's dingy, it's disgusting. just like you are. I'm surprised that you wanted to buy this hotel again. but more importantly, I'm surprised to even see you here. What brings you to this place, anyway? Good old Hellmouth just not that exciting to you anymore?"
"You know what brings me here." He replied smoothly, letting his eyes feast on her once more. "Revenge."
She chuckled slightly, the sound sweet and seductive yet unbelievably deadly. "Oh, that's rich." Cordelia muttered. "The Dark Avenger coming to his city to seek for revenge. And what would you do, Angel? Do you think that by coming back here, you'll get what you want?" She glared at him through eyes that had suddenly come back to life. "You know how they work. You've seen what they can do. Do you think that you're enough to beat them?"
"At least I would die trying."
"There you go again, being a great hero and champion." Cordelia mocked him. "If I didn't know better, I would have to say that you're so brave. So courageous. But you know what? I think you're being incredibly stupid to go against a force you can't even begin to comprehend."
"I'm touched." Angel said silkily, his tone taunting, his attitude vicious, cruel. "Here you are, thinking of people other than yourself for a change. Just tell me one thing, Cordelia. Just how long and how much did you spend in learning how to become a selfless woman? Or did the Wolfram and Hart give that as an added bonus to you because you agreed to work for them?"
"You son of a bitch." Cordelia spit out, her temper reaching ultimate grounds. "You heartless bastard."
"Heartless?" Angel repeated. His feet moved so quickly that in the span of one breath he was against her body, his hands on her shoulders, his eyes devouring her own. "You're one to speak, Cordelia. You can never even begin to think how far that word is with my definition of you."
She held her breath. "I really don't think I care."
"You never did." He removed his hands from her shoulders before he could leave a mark on her skin. He stepped back, his removing contact from her body but his eyes retaining hers in one full, agonizing minute. "You never did care about us, Cordelia. All you cared about is yourself. And of course, Groo. Because only he can give you happiness, isn't that right? He alone can make you content. That's why it's to hell with us all. To hell with me, Wesley, Gunn and Fred. You've let us down, Cordy. You let them die."
"Fuck you." She cursed under her breath. "Damn you!"
"I already am."
That was when she charged him, her hands formed in claws, her intention to hurt him physically had blocked out every rational reasoning she has. But he was ready for her. Angel reached out and imprisoned her hands, and moved them so that they were on her back, with his arms around her, holding her captive against his superior strength. Her breath was hot and sweet against his neck, the beat of her heart was like the movement of a robin struggling to break free from it's cage. She was fire in his arms. She was life.
"How dare you say such things." She murmured. She struggled against his hold, but her efforts to break free were futile. "How dare you say that I let them die!"
"You did!" Angel told her. "You just stood there and watched as they slaughtered Wesley. You just kept silent as they shot Gunn in the head. You did nothing as they raped and killed Fred!" His voice rose notches as vivid memories came back to his mind. Horrible, terrible images of death and destruction rushed and engulfed him like a tidal wave, and he was helpless as it continued to drown him. "You let them die!"
"No!" Cordelia screamed as tears started to pour from her eyes, twin falls of salty waters that flowed like rivers on her cheeks. Her breath was caught in her chest, and she sobbed. She lowered her head as the tears kept on coming. "No," she cried. "You don't understand."
"Damn right I don't," he whispered to her. He winced as her tears splashed on his shoulder, the hot liquid contrasting completely with the coldness of his skin.
She raised her head again until their eyes were on the same level. "You don' t understand," she repeated. "You weren't there."
"I was." He tightened his hold on her, letting her gasp out in pain before lightening his grasp once again. "I saw everything."
"No," she whispered. "You didn't."
"What in hell is going on here?"
Angel and Cordelia looked at the direction where the voice came from, and they both saw a man wearing an expensive suit. He was blond, and has about the same height as Angel's. The vampire cursed before completely freeing the woman. "And just who do you think you are?" he grumbled.
"Rommel," the name escaped her tightly pressed lips. "What are you doing here?"
Rommel glared at Angel before going to Cordelia's side. He noticed her tear-stained face and was immediately angered. "I was sent by Lilah to check up on you," he answered her question. "I guess I just came on time. Tell me, Cordelia, what happened?" He reached out to wipe a tear from her face, and when his hand brushed against her skin, he heard a growl coming out from the other man's throat.
Cordelia moved away from the man's caring touch. "Nothing happened." She replied, as she fished out a handkerchief from the pocket of her skirt. She dabbed her face dry. "Nothing happened." She walked to the table where her briefcase lay.
Rommel frowned at the obvious lie. "Then why-"
"Just fucking drop it, okay!" Cordelia yelled. She all but ripped her attaché case open, and then grabbed some papers and a pen. She thrust it, hard, on Angel's chest. "Here. Sign this, then it's all over."
They stared at each other for what seemed like an eternity, before Angel removed the papers from his chest and moved to a table. There, he signed the contract, signifying that he was once again the owner of the hotel.
This time, before Cordelia could even move, Rommel was the one who retrieved the papers from Angel's hands. He checked each document, and satisfied that everything was properly filled, escorted the woman out of the hotel, and out of the vampire's reach.
Angel heard the engine flared to life, then heard it as it drove away. He looked around the deserted hotel, before turning his eyes to the last place where he saw her walk out on him yet again.
"No, Cordelia." He said simply. "It's not yet over."
*
Cordelia was exhausted. She walked on the familiar halls of her apartment, fumbled with her purse to get the appropriate key, opened the door, then rushed inside. The comforting atmosphere of her beloved home did nothing to waver the inner turmoil inside her heart. God knows how much she wanted this day to end. She also wanted to eat. She also wanted to sleep.
But above everything else, she wanted to die.
She kicked her shoes off of her feet and walked, barefooted, into the kitchen. She grabbed a glass and filled it with water. She brought it up to her lips and drank, the life-giving liquid replenishing her energy. When the drink was over, she refilled the glass to drink once again.
But then, she heard a distinct sound from her back. She whirled around, the glass in her hand forgotten, and it flew and crashed against the concrete floor, the solid material suddenly splintering into thousands of miniscule pieces.
Cordelia's eyes widened, and her mouth formed the word.
"Wesley?"
Part 4 (of ?)
“Wesley?”
The former watcher smiled as he saw the woman’s reaction to his appearance. “My, Cordelia. You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
Cordelia clutched her chest tighter, suddenly realizing that the intruder she had sensed was not an intruder at all, but a friend, the only ally she has in this barren wasteland. She closed her eyes and tried to control the fear that was humming through her veins. “Yeah, well I think I’ve been seeing a lot of ghosts lately,” she said, her voice fading to the faintest of whispers.
But Wesley heard what she said. Years of hiding from the outside world had reaped a great, delicious fruit, and that is his ability to hear efficiently. He had to develop it, after all, only Cordelia knows that he is still alive. His brows knotted until they became one rough line. “What is it, Cordy? What’s wrong?”
She closed her eyes momentarily, and when she opened them she found that he had moved to her side. She heard no footsteps, no rustling of clothes. He had moved with the finesse of a cat, all graceful and quiet… and viciously deadly. “He’s here.”
Wesley stared into her luminous eyes, eyes that now held a great amount of pain and memories. He needed no further word from her to realize just who she is talking about. “Angel,” he said aloud, his voice filled with certainty and clarity.
He was not mistaken. “He… he bought the hotel back,” Cordelia whispered again. She combed her fingers through her hair, her hand barely meeting resistance against the silken, fine strands that now hung past her shoulders. Gallons of expensive shampoo had given her the hair beautiful enough like that of a model’s.
Wesley’s watcher eyes followed her hands’ movements, and then suddenly, the blue orbs narrowed into thin slits. He tenderly grabbed one hand. “What’s this?” he asked in a way that completely contradicted his hold on her.
Cordelia swallowed. There, for everyone to see, was a big, black and blue bruise on her wrist. It showed a hand print, so distinct and clear. Her eyes met his once again, but her lips spoke of no words.
Silence embraced the room. No other sound was heard, except for the two’s breathing.
“Cordelia-“, Wesley started, as he lifted her other hand. Sure enough, an identical bruise was already there. His gaze captured hers in a space of a heartbeat, his full of suppressed anger, hers full of tears that she refused to shed.
“He hurt you.”
She broke their eyes’ connection, and once again, Wesley needed not another word to know that what he said was true. “He hurt you and you… you let him.”
An estranged cry broke out of her lips. “What can I do, Wes?” she whispered, her voice barely reaching her own ears. She closed her eyes to suppress her tears, but like her struggle against the vampire’s hold, her efforts were futile, pointless. The tears fell, one after the other, the product of feelings and emotions that were raging their own war inside her heart.
Wesley stared at her face, and felt his heart break at the sight of his beautiful, strong friend, breaking down because of one man. “What can you do?” He asked her back, as he walked around her, his feet making soundless motions all over her. “You are the bravest woman I know, Cordelia. You’ve slayed your own demons, faced the worst scenarios, trekked along the most dangerous paths. Tell me, how can one man destroy all your defenses? How can he hurt you like this?”
“Because I’m unprepared,” came her answer. “Because he’s… he’s someone that I… that I…” She rubbed her hands against her arms, unable to continue, unable to utter another word in her defense. What happened to her? She let her eyes roam around the room, the seconds of unbearable silence passing by her like days of the past. Finally, she settled her gaze on Wesley, who was buried in his own thoughts, as he traced invisible circular patterns on her divinely spotless floor.
“He hurt you.” He repeated, and he stopped in his motions to glare at her through eyes that had seen everything. “He hurt you and you let him.”
This time, she did not break. This time, she did not waver. Her heart danced in anger, and fury gave her the strength to rebuild her walls again. “It would never happen again,” she vowed.
“You spoke to him,” Wesley uttered. “What does he know?”
“Very little.” Cordelia replied. “He knows that I work for Wolfram and Hart. He knows that I am-“ She hesitated to continue, but Wesley urged her to. With a painful intake of breath, she let her words roll. “He knows that I am responsible for Gunn and Fred’s deaths.”
“That’s a bloody lie,” Wesley told her.
“He said he saw everything that had happened that night.” she relayed. “He saw what happened… to you, to them-“
“So he knows that I’m still alive?”
Cordelia shook her head. “No,” she said softly. “He assumed that you were dead.”
Wesley breathed deeply, and let everything out in a single exhalation. He gave a crooked smile, a smile that held no mirth. “Ah.” He said. “So that is why he moved back to Sunnydale. He presumed that everyone was dead.” He fixed her with a somber gaze. “Everyone except you.”
“He thought it was my fault.” She muttered. “He hates me, Wes…” Her hands twitched, and she rubbed them together to let the blood circulate once again. “Probably as much as I hate him.”
Silence once again filled the entire room, letting the last ugly sentence to echo through the night.
*
She had stepped in a world filled of joy and happiness, a sharp and painful contrast to the world she’s been living in.
Cordelia felt tears sprang to her eyes as she touched one teddy bear after another, as she inhaled one baby powder after another, as she felt one soft baby cloth after another.
The music that she can only remotely identify as a Barney’s melody filled her ears, the childish notes and phrases enchanting and totally enjoyable to the minds of a child.
Wearing a tailored suit, heels that clicked every time she took a step and her hair regally crowning her head, Cordelia looked completely out of place inside the toy department of the L.A. mall.
Yet, in her heart, she knew that she was happiest here.
Memories of the past haunted her, the images of herself holding her beloved baby filled her brain to full capacity. Year after year after year, she had yearned to hold him once again, to care for him, to nurture him like a real mother to her own offspring.
Heaven knows she had been a great mother to Connor. And heaven is the only one who knows how much she had missed Angel’s son.
Angel’s son. Even with it’s truthfulness baring it’s claws on her, she knew that partly, Connor was her own son as well.
How many years had it been since she last saw him? She had been counting from that first year. One… Two… Three… Four…
Five. Five years since she had last held the precious bundle in her arms.
And probably she would be counting years more…
A ball touched her feet, and this disrupted her short walk in memory lane. She looked down, only to see a pair of small, chubby hands laying claim to the ball that had ended her chain of thought.
The outward tough exterior on her face vanished, and the soft, kind young woman emerged once more, as Cordelia stared into eyes that were as dark and deep as the moonless night.
“Hey there, big guy,” she said, as an inviting smile played on her lips. “What do you have there?”
The eyes seemed to study her, and finally deeming her worthy of attention, the child smiled back. “A ball,” he proudly stated, raising the toy up like a prized gem. “I’m going to have my daddy buy me this ball.” He said. “Want to play?”
Cordelia’s smile widened to a grin. “Sure! Come on, let’s play toss. You stand over there,” she pointed at the place a little far from where she stood, “And I’ll stand here, and you toss the ball to me, and I’ll toss it back to you. Okay?”
The child nodded. “Okay,” he said, and he scrambled to his designated place.
She received the tossed ball with glee, and when she tossed it back to the child, he laughed. Cordelia felt her world lighten a bit. If Connor was here, they would have played games like this all the time…
After some minutes, they stopped playing. The child was grinning happily, exhausted but she knew that he enjoyed every minute of the game, because his soulful eyes was shining brighter than anything she’d seen. “You’re pretty,” he told her, as he bobbed the ball in his hands up and down.
It was the most beautiful comment she had received in her entire life, because it came from the mouth of an innocent child. Cordelia reached out to touch his face. “And you’re sweet.” She told him with a smile. “What’s your name?”
“Connor.”
Both woman and child turned to face the voice that had spoken.
Cordelia felt the rest of the world fading as she stared at the face of her enemy.
“Daddy!” The boy shrieked, and he run to the arms of the man that was standing silently against the wall.
Angel received the weight of the boy easily, but his eyes remained on Cordelia’s face. “The boy’s name is Connor.”
Part 5 (of ?)
He felt himself smirk as he continued to watch the color drain out of Cordelia’s face at his words. He watched her open and close that perfect little mouth of hers, watched her as she fumbled with a coherent sentence, watched her as she continued to shift her gaze from his face to his boy’s.
It was fascinating to see that he had somehow outdone her in a little thing like this. Angel knew that she wasn’t expecting that the boy she was just playing with happened to be his son.
He felt a tug on his pants, and he looked down to see his boy, smiling like a purring, satisfied Cheshire cat. “Daddy,” Connor said, in a breathless, raspy voice. “The pretty lady just played with me.” He said with obvious delight. The child turned to regard Cordelia with a fond grin. “She said I was sweet!”
Angel flashed his son a smile, but as he let his gaze travel to Cordelia’s face, he couldn’t help but have his smile widen at her dumbfounded expression. “I know that, son,” He spoke, the words directed to Connor but his eyes glued to her face. “I’m sure she did.”
Cordelia stared, hard, at Connor’s face. She wanted to hit herself. How come she didn’t notice it? The shape of his face. The color of his eyes. The Angel-ness of the child. How could she have not known it the minute she laid her eyes on him?
How can she not know that she was already facing Angel’s son, the boy that she so wanted to see and touch once again?
“Connor,” Angel said to his son as he bent down to face him, “Is this the toy you wanted me to buy?” He asked, as he lightly touched the ball that was in the child’s arms.
Connor nodded enthusiastically. “I want this,” he affirmed, as he continued to shake the ball in his arms. Just then, his little face, lighted by a beautiful smile, fell a little as he was suddenly clouded by uncertainty. “But I saw another one out there, and it-“
“I want you to get that other toy, and show me.” Angel said. He glanced at Cordelia. “I’m just going to talk to the pretty lady.”
The boy looked at his father, then at the lady, then back again. With nod, he ran out to show the other toy that he wanted to have. But he left with the smile still lingering on his lips, as an idea keeps playing on and on in his head. Did his daddy know the pretty lady?
As soon as Connor was out of sight, Angel straightened himself and approached Cordelia. She was silent as he continued to near her, her wide, dark eyes dimming to almost black. He felt no fear coming from her. No, nothing at all. “What are you doing here?” He asked, a little half-smile playing on the corner of his mouth.
Cordelia felt her eyes narrow at his display. To anyone watching, he looked like an interested man, a man who was pursuing a woman out of curiosity, out of intrigue. But his eyes can never lie to her, and his smile, a beguiling tool used to charm and dazzle women, had no effect on her whatsoever. So, he wanted to play charades with her? She would just be too happy to indulge him. She gracefully smiled at him, a smile that she uses to successfully hypnotize any single, red-blooded male that comes her path. “Oh, nothing.” She whispered delicately, a voice that invites the listener to lean in a little bit closer. “Just passing by.”
The perfume she wore now was in perfect contrast to the one she wore the night before. Last night, she smelled divinely, like roses in an orchard, but today… her scent nearly drove him to insanity. And the amusing thing was… she wasn’t wearing any perfume. The scent coming from her was hers alone, all peach and apple and irresistibly woman. But he did not want to dwell on that. As quick as the thought entered his brain, he dismissed it in a blink of an eye.
“How fast time flies,” Cordelia softly spoke, as the seductress in her suddenly disappeared, and the woman who longed for the baby that isn’t hers, emerged once more.
Angel knew what she meant. Or should he say, whom. “Indeed.” He replied.
Their eyes met, and he felt an ache in the part where his beating heart should have been as he read the longing and the pain that was obviously etched in her dark brown orbs. He shouldn’t empathize with her, hell, he should be rejoicing… reveling in her misery. But he felt neither. He broke their connection and cursed.
The curse that came through his lips, the filthy word that rarely passes her own, seemed to have waken Cordelia. With an intake of breath, she stepped away from the vampire… only to have his arm pull her back. She stiffened, as the contact that he had forced upon them surprised her more than she should let herself be. Her eyes formed a perfect, icy glare that could have frozen him to kingdom come. “What do you want?” She hissed.
Angel felt her scent surround him once again… and unable to resist the delicious temptation, he lifted one hand to delicately trace a pattern from her cheek to her jaw. It was a nonsensical act, an act that was done on impulse and without reason. He let his finger linger on her incredibly soft flesh… only to have him remove his touch after a second or two. He freed her without another word.
Cordelia stared at Angel, her breathing haggard. She did not understand what just happened between them. He barely touched her… but she felt as though a lot had happened, as though more than physical touching has occurred…
Without another word, she turned on her heels… and nearly collided with Connor in the process.
Connor looked up at her, his smile fading, his hands almost dropping his ball. “Are you leaving already?” he asked, almost somberly.
Cordelia glanced at Angel, but he was looking at them without an expression on his face. She reached out to caress the child’s cheek with her finger. “Yes.” She said softly, full of suppressed emotion… full of unexpressed love. And before she could do more, she quickly departed, without looking back.
But as she existed the building, her cheeks were already flooded with tears.
*
He hunted in familiar grounds, so to speak. Angel rounded up one corner and turned to move to the next.
He was checking the sides of the hotel. Just wanted to see if everything was A-okay.
And that was when he heard the noises. It was almost undetectable, almost soundless to the human ear… but he heard them. Heard them loud and clear, like drums beating in front of a bonfire.
He could identify them as footsteps, footsteps that were trudging the same path as his. Angel sniffed the air, but nothing out of the ordinary alerted him. Aside from the sickening stench of the decaying garbage by the dumpster, he could smell no fear, no perspiration, no human scent.
But the footsteps were still there. Footsteps that was beginning to echo in his ears.
Enraged, Angel blended with the shadows of the dark night, determined to put an end to this insanity. He was going to find out who was stalking him.
Just when the footsteps were as near as it could be, Angel reached out to grab what he expected was a throat… only to have his hand grab a cool, hard, solid matter.
It was a pipe. A steel pipe that was used to block his attack. His assault was expected, and the counter-attack was carefully planned.
Clearly, whoever was following his trail had seen his moves before.
Angel was impressed, but he wasn’t going to show it. He had another move in his sleeve, and this time… he will be expecting results.
He pulled the pipe towards him, so that whoever holds the other end may lose his balance and fall, face first, into the disgusting floor of the alley.
But nothing sort of that happened. Instead, he heard the distinct clank of the steel pipe as it fell to the floor, and it rolled and rolled and rolled until it stopped and collided with the hotel wall. Whoever held the other end must have released it before he could yank it from him.
“Who are you?” Angel asked, as even with his vampiric senses he could not see who was before him.
He heard a chuckle. A chuckle that was familiar, a laugh that he hasn’t heard for a long time. And then…
“A friend, Angel.” Wesley said to him, as he stepped into the light. “An old friend.”
Angel could do nothing but watch, as his dear friend, the one that he had thought was dead, stood in front of him. “Wesley?” he whispered, seemingly afraid. Was it an illusion? Magic?
“The one and only.”
The vampire continued to stare at the former watcher, his eyes wide with wonder and disbelief. He reached out to touch his shoulder, and when he felt the solidity, he gave a laugh, a sound that was short and hollow. “You’re… you’re alive,” he mumbled idiotically. “But how-“
“I suppose I am alive, Angel.” Wesley replied with a sardonic smile on his lips. “Otherwise, I would have never bothered to speak with you.”
The air stank of trash, the smell aggravating the dingy appearance of the darkened alley. But it held Wesley’s distinct smell, the one that he could definitely identify, the one that tells of his true identity. There was no magic or illusion. Only the truth that his friend has somehow managed to survive that fatal night…
“If you’re alive,” Angel began, his thoughts tumbling straight to his lips. He was suddenly filled with excitement at the prospect of being able to be reunited with his family. “If you’re alive, then Fred and Gunn must be-“
“Don’t get your hopes up, Angel.” Wesley hastily cut in, as he crossed his hands in front of his chest in a defiant manner. “I survived. But that doesn’t mean that they did.”
“But how?” The vampire asked, confused to say the very least. “I was there, Wes. I heard everything. I saw everything. There was no possible way-“
“Have you ever thought that you didn’t see everything?” His friend said. “Have you ever thought that after you left, Cordelia was able to-“
This time, it was Angel who didn’t let Wesley finish. “Cordelia?” he repeated. “She knows that you’re alive?”
“She knows more than you give her credit for.”
Angel lifted one hand and let his fingers run through his hair, his confused, incoherent thoughts playing like a black-and-white silent film in his mind. He could almost see everything, right in front of his very eyes…
Flashes…
Of an old, deserted building. A black limousine parked along one side served as a divider of two worlds; one where everything is alright and where life is being created, the other where life is about to be mercilessly destroyed.
Flashes…
Of many people, most of whom are clothed in black. They reached in for their three captives, each bounded, gagged… helpless. They were Wesley, Gunn and Fred. Wesley was not wearing his glasses, but his eyes shone defiantly as he stared into the faces of the enemy. Gunn tried valiantly to protect Fred, who was by then crying openly. But her tears did nothing but intensify the delight of their executors…
Flashes…
Of Cordelia standing there, with two men by her sides. She was staring at the three with a blank expression on her face…
Flashes…
Of a man walking towards Fred. He easily kicked Gunn away from the trembling young woman, and he dragged her towards the other side of the limousine. She was screaming for help… even with her gag it was easy to identify that she was crying out for Gunn to help her…
In seconds, the young woman’s cries were silenced by a loud explosion.
Flashes…
Of Gunn lying on the ground, yelling out Fred’s name. His rough exterior vanished as his tears mixed with his blood when it spilled to the ground. But he had little time to grieve, because the next thing he knew, he was already facing a gun on his forehead…
There was light. And then, there was nothing.
Flashes…
Of Wesley, unflinching, as he witnessed the awful end of his colleague and friend. He did not close his eyes as he saw Gunn’s dead body lying on a pool of crimson water, as he saw Fred’s naked, battered body being dragged all the way to his side. He did not flinch as a samurai sword was brought out from the car, as it was unsheathed, as it’s blade shone under the light of the full moon…
He did not flinch as he watched it go through his stomach… but he did close his eyes as darkness cradled him in her loving arms.
Flashes…
Of Cordelia being left alone with three corpses, each of which died a horrendous death. She just witnessed the death of her friends, of her family…
And yet, her face was blank, still… emotionless.
She didn’t care.
Flashes…
Of Angel finally turning away from the horrific sight. He was situated on top of a building, and he witnessed everything from his position…
And he was helpless to stop it from happening.
And now, here he is… and he was being told that everything he had come to know in the past five years were all lies.
Damned lies that molded and shaped his existence for the coming years…
“How could this happen?” He asked softly, a plea coming from his lips.
Wesley’s eyes glinted underneath his glasses. “There is more to this story than you could ever believe.”
Part 6 (of ?)
Silence echoed in the dark, unkempt room.
Dust adorned each and every furniture that lays covered with a fine white sheet; the dirt practically coloring the cloths a disgusting gray.
Cobwebs filled the corners of the room, and the predators who owned them watched carefully; each hunting for a delicious piece of flesh. Several pairs of small insect eyes blinked, all at the same time, as they waited for their meal to come to their paths, be wrapped in the silken threads and wait for their inevitable ends.
Several pairs of eyes blinked as they watched the two men walk into the room. Suddenly afraid, they scamper into their hiding places, and tried to keep as still as possible, as to prevent their chances of being detected. and being eventually killed.
Wesley kept silent as they walked into the familiar halls of the Hyperion hotel. He was saddened by the fact that his former home no longer holds its prestige and glory, but as he let his eyes travel around the place, he felt his spirit lighten a little bit. Memories are etched in every corner of the room, memories that had molded and shaped each of them into becoming who they were; a team who spent their lives trying to protect the helpless from those who seek to harm them.
But that is what they all are now. Memories of actions that were done a long time ago, acts that would soon be forgotten by everyone.
Memories that would forever remain embedded in their pasts.
Pasts that would have to be explained, to be defined. in order for all of them to be understood, to be accepted for what they really are.
"What happened, Wes?"
The painful, almost beseeching tone evident in Angel's voice broke into his senses, creating an end into his tirade of thoughts. Wesley stared, hard, at the vampire who was openly begging him for an explanation. The truth behind the curtain of lies. "Where should I begin?"
"On that night when you and Gunn and Fred. when I saw-"
"Us being slaughtered?" He interrupted. "And by the way - thanks for just standing by and watching each of us die."
Angel looked away, embarrassment hiding beneath his cool exterior. He closed his eyes. "You don't know what happened that night."
Wesley stood up a little straighter, his eyes cunningly skimming the vampire 's face. "And so do you." he countered.
"Look." Angel stopped, not knowing how to ask the simple question. "We have to open up, Wesley. We have to let each other in. We're in a very big mess, and we have to get out of it. If you would only-"
"Angel, Angel." Wesley spoke, in a sing-song voice. "You have no idea how much a mess we're in right now."
"Then tell me."
"Alright." The ex-watcher stated, in a flat tone. "You want the truth? Fine. But don't expect it to be pretty."
The seconds in the clock ticked by slowly, the hands of the old machine counting each and every moment that walked by. The evening sky watched, the moon listened and the stars kept silent, as the night of a thousand tears was finally revealed, it's dark, sharp claws wounding yet again the already-fallen man.
"We were attacked." Wesley begun, his voice barely monotonous, as he let his eyes evenly stare at Angel's own. His blue orbs flashed dangerously, as his sharp mind brought back details that would forever burn in his memory. "They knew that you were out, and that was when they struck. Hundreds of men surrounded the hotel, and leading them was that demon's whore, Lilah. She had us all by the throat, literally. We were dragged out, and into the car of hers. but before that, she left certain clues, fully intending that you would find us."
"And I did." Angel softly spoke, his eyes glazing as he recalled that night.
"The car stopped in an abandoned building." He continued. "We were taken out - me, Gunn and Fred. And then."
"I know what happened." The vampire swallowed the sudden lump in his throat. He shut his eyes, determined that for one second, he could forget. Forget the ugly death of his friends, forget the entire thing. but fate was a real bitch. She couldn't let him forget that easily. Wouldn't. "I need to know how you were able to survive. and Cordelia, how she became-"
"Another demon's whore?" Wesley finished, his face holding nothing of the sting that his words certainly have. "If you only stayed for a while, you would have known."
Angel said nothing. His own story will come in a short while.
"The man who so delicately skewered me was mistaken." Blue eyes darkened to almost black. A sharp intake of breath resounded in the room, before another word was spoken. "He thought he had me by the heart. He was wrong." Wesley nonchantly lifted his shirt, revealing a tanned chest. Unmistakably, like a smear of white paint on a brown canvas, there stood the mark of death. "An inch more to the left and you would have most certainly been visited by my ghost."
His companion could do nothing but stare at the wound. He knew that it pierced more than Wesley's body, it punctured it's way to the man's soul.
"I knew what was coming," Wesley started again, as he carefully dressed himself again. "The bastard did not notice it, but I shifted. I knew he was targeting my heart. I knew it because he had his eyes trained into it. The stupid bastard didn't even come to make sure I was dead. Everybody thought I was dead."
"And Cordelia..?"
"Was drugged."
Angel felt himself smile grimly. "Of course." He blithely replied. "She was drugged, that's why she didn't-"
"She couldn't, even if she wanted to."
"Damn it, Wesley!" Angel shouted. The echo of his strong voice send shivers all over, the sound vibrating until it almost caused the cobwebs to sway in rhythm. "That's a fucking pathetic excuse! Oh, yeah. Cordelia's drugged. That's why she was just passive, staring into space, when she could have-"
A strong hand on his arm stopped any more words that was waiting to come forth. Angel stood, surprised, as Wesley's face became barely inches from his own. He moved in a way that vampires were proud to possess. slick, easy, deadly. He was a predator. "She was drugged." Wesley repeated, his voice clipping each syllable as to make sure Angel heard every word. "The drug used was so powerful it could have killed her. It's a perilously potent depressant, able to completely shut the nervous system off. You said she looked like she was passive - and that's because she is. She's dead by that time. You could have ripped her throat out, and all she would do is stare at you." The hand was removed from his arm. "Lilah had it all carefully planned. She had Cordelia drugged, she had us kidnapped, she had us killed, and all because she wanted you to enjoy your viewing from atop."
"I was rescuing Connor at that time." Angel whispered.
"She had that carefully arranged, too." Wesley turned his back on Angel, his body angled away. "She had Lorne disposed, so she could got his hands on the baby. But the baby wasn't her first interest. Basically, she just had him kidnapped so that you wouldn't have time to do anything about us below. She had everything planned so that you could only do nothing but stand there, and watch."
Angel's eyes moistened with grief. "And that's exactly what I did."
"Yes." Wesley affirmed. "Apparently, you were a very lovely audience. You did everything Lilah expected. She had the show carried on right before your very eyes, and you did everything she wanted. You thought we were dead, you hated Cordelia, you left her to fend for herself. She was alone in a place where predators roamed free. You let her sign her own death certificate, Angel. You practically handed her to the devil."
"No." Angel's rebuttal was firm. "She wasn't alone. She had Groo. Groo was-"
"Dead at that time." Wesley said. "He was killed. It seems that even champions of another realm are no match for heavy machine guns."
Angel glanced away, surprised by the fact that he felt for the former warrior. Although his every fiber screamed hatred for the Groosalugg, his very soul whispered a sad tune for the fate that has befallen the man.
The man that Cordelia loved.
And Cordelia.
"Why Wolfram and Hart?"
His voice was rough, course, and almost not his own. Angel found it hard to recognize the sound as his.
"Because she had nothing else, Angel."
The wind came through the open windows, and the breeze danced it's way to touch everything in sight. But the atmosphere inside was thick with tension, and even the lovely beat of the night air did nothing to loosen the tight knot.
"When the men left her that night, Lilah was convinced that by the time Cordelia snapped up from her state, she would have become so depressed by what has happened that she would have sought any means to end her life as well." A rueful smile made it's way to Wesley's lips. "But she shouldn't have expected that to happen. She doesn't know our Cordelia. She can't possibly predict how that girl thinks. When Cordelia awakened. the first thing she did was check to see if anyone was still alive. With sobs coming out of her, she checked each one of us. Gunn was hopeless, as the bullet had already embedded itself deep in his brain. He was dead the minute he touched that floor. And Fred. Fred was." He paused, his heart lurching. His poor, little Fred. After all these years, he still have something inside for her. "Fred was just as hopeless. But when she came to me. she found out that I was still breathing, that I was still alive. So she got me off of the floor. and had me treated at the hospital."
"She came to Wolfram and Hart, because she had nothing else." The blue eyes threw accusatory glares at the vampire. "She had no one, Angel. She spent days looking for you. but you already disappeared. You fled away. You left her with no other choice but to join the enemy. And she did. Lilah's superiors was so impressed with her that she was quickly offered a position higher than that of Lilah's. Of course, with my condition in mind she took the job. She became an employee because of me." The glare became a reminiscent of a sneer. "Because of me, and you, she had to suffer. We are to blame."
The silence that followed was deafening. Fate held her breath as she waited for what was to come.
"They watch her every move. Every word from her lips, every breath she take, everything about her now is known by the company. She cannot even eat without them knowing what she was about to consume. She's not free anymore, Angel. She's owned. by them. One wrong move and she's dead."
Angel let his muddled brain process these new information. Cordelia's life was in trouble. and it was all his fault. If only he didn't leave. If only he didn't let his hatred consume him. If only he did not judged her so quickly.
He could only stand and curse. and wish that the hands of time could be turned back.
Angel turned his attention back to Wesley as another thought came, and screamed to be asked.
"You said that on that night they thought you were dead. They thought they left you dead. Do they. do they know that you're alive?"
Before Wesley could utter another word, they both stood straight, alarmed, as sudden sounds called their attention. With a nod to each other, they quickly fled to the door. only to find the sounds of an engine fading away, blending into the darkness of the night.
It was useless to follow it.
Wesley faced Angel, his breathing fast, labored. "They do, now."
Continue On...