::
Rise ::
By
Rachel
::
Rated R ::
Strong
violence, blood, and a little bit of swearing.
Takes
place anytime after Epiphany. Reflects scenarios back to BtVs.
Distribute wherever! And I appreciate feedback.
Los Angeles.
Midnight.
Things were quiet on
the street, but inside, Cordelia bustled with restless energy.
She worked diligently,
straightening up the small office she occupied with her three friends/business
partners; filing papers away neatly and dusting the various places that needed
to be dusted. She absentmindedly glanced at the clock.
'Five after twelve,'
Cordelia thought with a sigh. Still early for her bunch, but Cordelia found
herself anticipating quitting time. She was looking forward to bed.
She paused, leaning
slightly against the desk with one hand, and with the other, she reached down
to the sorer of her two feet, and pulled off her shoe. Wiggling her toes, she
moaned. Her feet had never hurt so much, and so she slipped the other shoe off
too. Eyeing the four-inch wooden heels of her Italian designer Florentines, she
frowned and placed them carefully on the floor besides her desk. They were
beautiful, expensive, designer shoes, but 'Sometimes it's just better to go
flat,' Cordelia decided as she stretched her throbbing arches. She sighed
wistfully as she in turn stretched her legs, and her back, and her shoulders,
and her neck. 'Tomorrow,' She thought, 'I'll wear sneakers…or, just sit a lot.'
She yawned loudly, not
bothering to cover her mouth as she was all alone. She looked down at her desk,
covered in invoices and research materials and printouts from the Internet.
She'd been shuffling through them for hours! Well, maybe not hours…more like
one. Or…just forty-five minutes. All right, thirty minutes, tops, but it took a
lot to keep all this paper mess up to date! And she was so bored! She hated
doing it…even though it was kind of her self-elected job…
'She's always so good
at the invoices,' Angel would shrug, coerced usually,
whenever she'd argue with Wesley about going out to handle jobs and
(demandingly) expected that Angel take her side. She often pointed out how much
more valuable she was to them staying in the (safety of the) office, working
diligently on paperwork (oh, paperwork…right) while they went out and fought
the (big, scary, and often really smelly) demons.
Yes. She'd brought
this down on herself, and Cordelia accepted that. And she'd do her
paperwork…eventually. But right now, for some reason, waiting on the boys to
get back from their hunt was just wearing her patience thin.
Cordelia sighed,
closing her eyes, and attempted to rub her sore shoulder.
A loud crash from the
backroom brought Cordelia back full attention. She glanced quickly at the front
door. Noting it was still closed securely, she looked to the open doorway
leading to the backroom. She listened hard, leaning slightly forward,
anticipating even the slightest scratch… She swore she heard something
shuffling back there…almost too faint to recognize…
But no one else was
supposed to be there.
Cordelia cautiously reached down to
retrieve her shoes when another sound, a lower, almost, inaudible thump, made
her freeze. The slightest snap, sounding too coincidentally like that of a
creak of a floorboard, caused her heart to catch in her throat.
Forgetting the shoes,
Cordelia quickly and silently stole across the floor on tiptoe toward the far
wall. She moved carefully, balancing herself with her fingertips against the
faintly textured walls; sure not to make a sound as she went. Inch by inch, she
crossed the floor to the umbrella holder. She quietly lifted the solid wooden
baseball bat, which she kept there so fittingly, for times just like this.
She'd decided it a must-have for the office when she, Wesley, and Gunn had
first started out on their own; out of the sanctity of Angel's hotel/safe
haven, and away from his given, protecting hand.
'Boy,' She thought
glancing down at the bat. She was glad she had it now.
Cordelia held the bat
slightly over her right shoulder, readying it in a swinging stance, and then
ventured forth. Her breathing shallowed and she focused her ears intently,
straining to pick up on even the slightest graze of a hair there in the
backroom. She stepped carefully, one foot over the other, trying her darndest
to avoid any lose or weathered floorboards as she approached the open doorway
and brought herself directly into harm's way. She had a quick second thought of
just bolting for the door and running, but her curiosity, and more importantly,
the annoyance of being chased out of her own place, made her keep going.
She held the bat
steadily, raising it a little higher, and tightened her grip on it. Pausing
just millimeters from the entrance, Cordelia closed her eyes and took a deep
breath. It was meant to calm her. But then she started arguing with herself
over whether or not she actually had the courage to do this. She then realized
that she was doing this, and finally, convincing herself that she was
ready to take off a head if she had to, decided that a 'swing now, ask
questions later' motto would be her safest bet.
A split second passed,
and with a slight squeal, Cordelia plunged into the room.
She was surprised when
nothing attacked her.
She was surprised when
there was nothing.
She surveyed the
surroundings and found not a thing out of place or a mouse to blame for it. She
even did a double take, not quite trusting her eyes, but found the room
completely empty and completely still. No one was here, and she'd reacted like
a complete idiot, grabbing her baseball bat, and creeping to the door…
Cordelia started to
feel silly, but then a slight noise turned her attention back to the front
office. She stepped back into it and glanced around.
Again, nothing.
No longer hesitating
in her movements, Cordelia shot across the room. She nearly pressed her face
into the glass looking out the front door into the street. She silently
reprimanded herself, telling herself to get a grip as she sought through the
shadows, peering very carefully through the dusty soft light of the faint
glowing street lamps to find nothing. The street was quiet and dark…desolate
and deserted…and she exhaled.
She hadn't even
realized she'd dropped it until it hit the floor with a loud thwack. She was
spinning around, flinching and jumping back, all in one fluid reaction. But he
had come from the dark so quickly; practically materializing out of thin air as
he rushed her, and it had surprised the hell out of her…
He was too damned fast
and Cordelia couldn't avert Lindsey McDonald's attack.
He grabbed her by the
throat and squeezed. She clawed at his left hand, holding her tightly as she
coughed and choked and struggled. Lindsey shoved her back against the glass
door and raised his artificial right hand. He slammed it across her face, then
lifted her from her feet, and threw her across the room with amazing agility.
Cordelia barely had time to register it before she hit her desk, getting the
wind knocked out of her.
She crashed down on
top of her desk and slid, nails digging wildly into its polished wood surface
as she frantically tried to steady herself before inevitably plummeting over
its edge. She hit the floor; a barrage of paperwork following as it rained down
on top of her, followed by spilt pencils and paperclips, and a really heavy
paperweight. The lamp crashed down, but Cordelia moved to the left just in
time, narrowly escaping it as it shattered and the room was plunged into near
total darkness.
She rolled onto her
hands and knees and made an attempt to scramble away but he was already behind
her, grabbing her and pulling her back by her hair. He lifted her again and
shoved her into the wall.
"STOP!" She screamed
when she could finally find her voice. With his fingers still entwined in her
hair, he smiled, shaking his head and raising his brow in mock sympathy. He
spun her around and threw her into the corner as hard as he could.
The drywall broke, and
she fell; powdery bits of it sprinkled down onto her hair and clothes. She
landed in a heap, blood gushing from her mouth, as her chin struck the hardwood
floor. She hesitated, rising slowly on her hands, trying to think straight but
without much success.
She'd been dazed, and
her head was spinning and her body was going into shock from the beating. She
would've screamed out just then but she barely had time to register that he was
kneeling down beside her. She didn't quite register the danger she was in. All
she understood was the slow throb of a really bad headache starting to
overwhelm her.
Cordelia was so dazed
that it took her a moment to remember what had just happened. As she started to
clutch her head, she'd almost thought she'd just been having another vision.
A really bad one.
"He's gonna pay,"
Lindsey snarled.
Cordelia flinched at
the sound of his voice. She tensed, and recoiled, but he reached out, grabbing
her chin forcefully, and yanked her back towards him. She cried out in pain,
and he slapped her hard. She slumped into the wall; reeling from the sting, and
feeling faint.
Passing out…passing
out sounded good right about now, but then she felt his fingers prodding her
cheek and his callous touch was enough to rock her back into reality. She
shoved him away, and was finally able to focus her sight again. Her eyes went
wide as she stared into his eyes.
He was seething. With
rage. And she saw a demon boiling before her. She was face to face with him,
and he grinned, then did something completely unexpected: he vamped out.
"You're a vampire?" She caught herself saying. Cordelia shook
her head in utter confusion, and just stared at him helplessly.
"He took her!" He
retorted, voice angry, and hoarse. He ran his fingers across her cheek and into
her hair. She shuddered, but he kept coming closer. "He took her from me, and
now, he deserves to lose something…" He leered, showing his fangs, and running
his artificial hand over her lips, he pulled away with her blood. He could
smell her fear. He could taste it, and he anticipated it. He wanted it, and he
reveled in it. He was eager to sheath himself in it.
The more she
struggled, the more he enjoyed it. And lord, did Lindsey want her to struggle.
"Oh, god." She
whimpered.
"God can't save you…not
from me,"
"God, no! Please!"
He snickered.
Cordelia thought he
was going to hit her again. She withdrew, as much as she could, cowering
against the wall; his good hand still clamped in her hair. She started to shake
in denial, and tried to turn away. But he tightened his hold on a fist full of
hair at the back of her skull and twisted it so that it forced her face up to
his. He paused, sniffing the air, and slowly, deliberately, came forward to
lick the blood from the curve of her jaw. A slow line of dark red blood ran
down her chin and dripped onto her chest, sliding down the mound of her
cleavage and disappearing somewhere below the dark green tank top she wore. Lindsey
imagined it sliding lower, slipping down her soft, hot flesh…
He was finding it ever
so hard to control himself.
Tears spilt out of her
eyes as she looked up at him wildly. She could feel his hot, foul breath stir
against the cold sweat of her skin. He smiled slowly, caressing the hair aside
from her face and listened while her heart raced over a million beats per
second. He beamed down at her and suddenly her blood ran cold as she finally
realized what he had meant to do.
"Don't!" She begged,
twisting away fruitlessly. "Please don't!"
"Be still, and I
promise, I'll be gentle,"
"God, Lindsay! No! No,
please! No!"
"Come on, Mizz
Chase…" He purred. The frown slowly melted away, and a cold, scorn showed
through. He bared his teeth, lowered his mouth to her ear, and sinfully
whispered, "I promise, you'll love it."
She barely blinked.
He snapped her head
back and bit down hard into her throat. Cordelia lurched, a searing pain
shooting down through her, hitting her core and passing through, racking her
body in a way she'd never felt before. His fangs dug deep into her muscle
tissue and she cried out in empty silence. There was no more breath in her to
scream with; nothing left to speak, to whimper, or even to pray. She couldn't
make a sound. And scarier yet, as overwhelming as the pain was, and was till
growing, she felt herself falling into paralysis. It swept over her; a cold,
burning fire sliding through her limbs, reaching all the way out into her
fingers and toes...and with it bringing the most adamant fear of complete and
total helplessness.
God, she wanted to
fight!
But she couldn't.
She was struggling
just to think. It was like her thoughts were being torn from her mind, and
pieces of reality were starting to slip away. She tried to hold on, but her
body had started to go numb…a blessing, really, though even if it hadn't, the
pain had become too unbearable for her body to even comprehend. And now her
vision was going gray, and the only thing left that she could understand were
the sounds coming from him as he swallowed…
He was swallowing her.
Sucking, drinking, downing her blood in fatal quantities. And the sound was
awful.
It was cruel. She had to sit and listen
as he killed her. But even that started to give way to the sounds of her own
body. The blood rushing through her ears…it grew deafening. It drowned out any
sound that he could make. And soon, that was replaced with the heavy white
noise of nothingness.
But then she realized
she couldn't sense him anymore.
She felt like she was
about to disappear.
Her heart was about to
stop.
Lindsey pulled back,
and he had to force himself to maintain control. He'd dug in…enjoyed it a
little too much for what he'd meant to do. There should have only been two deep
and thin puncture wounds, but the twin wounds over her neck and shoulder were
torn. And though she'd been nearly sucked clean, through the last of her blood
he could see the shards of flesh and muscle, and faintly, deeply, a shard of
white.
He'd hit bone.
He let her drop to the
floor, her body limp and lifeless like a rag doll, eyes wide and stricken,
dazed and staring up at nothing.
Lindsey sat up on his
knees, hissing in disgust. He thought back to Darla, imagining how she had gone
through this, twice now, during her long and tortured life in this ill-fated
existence.
And how, barely
twenty-four hours ago, he'd gone through it himself.
And now, how this girl
had also had to bear it.
Even a demon, he could
still sympathize.
And he'd make up for
the pain… Oh yes, and then some. And then she'd thank him for it. And then
she'd reward him. And then she'd wreak havoc of her own…
He ripped open his
shirt, spilling buttons in all directions. He tore down his white, cotton
undershirt, partially stained with her blood, and raked a long, clawed finger
across his chest. A line of thick redness oozed out from between the opening of
the wound; sliced perfectly even. Except for the blood you wouldn't be able
to tell it was there.
He smiled then;
revealing the sharp, silver gleam of his fang. He remembered the specific
instructions he'd been given, and then he reached for the collapsed girl.
He lifted her gently,
cradling her head with his shoulder as his artificial hand supported her back.
With his good hand he guided her face, and brought it up to meet his. He licked
the rest of the blood from her mouth, and then held her away, taking a moment
to quell his rebuilding hunger. He looked down at her, into her wide and
vacant, innocent, hazel eyes.
"I know you can hear
me," He said, his voice completely steady. "On some level, you can hear me. So
hear this…" Lindsey forced her lips to his wound. "He took her from me. And now
I'm taking you from him."
He was trying to
steady her mouth against his chest…it was harder than he'd thought it'd be…when
three pair of distinct footsteps got his attention.
It was amazing how
enhanced his senses had become.
Lindsey looked up
quickly to find a familiar figure come up just outside the glass front door,
two others behind him; all three unaware of what was going on inside. He hissed
silently and pressed Cordelia's face into him urgently. They'd come back too soon…
Angel pushed on the
door.
"It's locked," He
said, almost quizzically to Gunn and Wesley.
"Maybe Cordy had to go
out," Gunn suggested. Wesley started digging through his pocket for the key.
Angel shrugged, then turning back towards the window, suddenly froze. Wesley
withdrew the key.
"Found it!" He
announced. That same second, Angel punched his whole arm through the glass.
He didn't hesitate as huge shards fell
around him. He launched through the shattered glass door, leaving Wesley and
Gunn to stand flabbergasted on the sidewalk.
"I said I'd found it!"
Wesley cried.
Lindsey turned his
head to confront his adversary, and Angel rushed him in a rage. Stray thoughts
passed through his head, but he didn't pay attention at first…
What was Lindsey doing
here?
And why had he'd
destroyed the office?
And why'd he suddenly
have fangs?
And where…where was
Cordelia?
Angel halted.
His eyes moved over
her still form, hanging limply in Lindsay's grasp. It took him a second to even
realize it was her…but suddenly, it all hit him, and he understood.
"Cordelia!" He gasped.
Lindsey dropped her,
rising to his feet. He'd decided to take advantage of Angel's shock.
He'd really wanted to
turn her…he'd really wanted to see Angel's face when it happened… But Gunn and
Wesley were entering the office now, rambling off questions, blind in the dark.
And Lindsey saw Angel, eyes still glued to his friend on the floor, reaching
quickly beneath his coat.
Lindsay thought better
of standing around and waiting for the fight; he took two steps and fled.
Wesley had begun to fumble with his own desk lamp, and as the light flicked on,
the mortals in the room froze, eyes going wide.
There was a split
second of total silence.
Angel's half withdrawn
sword fell to the floor with a clang; the harsh grate of the metal hitting the
floor finally tearing them from their daze.
"Oh my god!" Wesley
exclaimed. Gunn could only stumble. But Angel was already at her side.
"Cordelia," He said,
his voice beginning to tremble with intensity. He lifted her up, and her head
lolled back, revealing the damage to her neck. "Cordelia…CORDELIA!"
She didn't respond.
The blood that had
pooled in the wound had started to run down. A few droplets fell astray,
splashing in little red dots on the hardwood floor as Angel felt himself
shaking her.
He heard each drop hit the floor like a
bomb going off. He looked into Cordelia's eyes and saw the last glimmer of life
start to dim. He pulled her closer, listening to the last few movements as her
heart started to stall. He heard Gunn and Wesley scrambling across the littered
floor, both shouting in urgency. They slid to their knees on either side of
him, one yelling at the other to call 911. He started to shake his head. He
said something. He mumbled. But they didn't hear him. "There's nothing we can
do," he said. But…they didn't hear him.
Wesley had pushed his
hands down on the punctures in her throat, screaming that they had to do
something to stop the bleeding. Gunn was screaming that they had to do CPR.
Angel blinked, and raising his eyes from Cordelia's, he closed them, and shook
his head.
Wesley grabbed the
leather sleeve of his jacket, and started tugging helplessly at him. "Angel! We
have to do something!"
Gunn pulled at her
arms and felt no pulse. "Is—is she dead???" He asked, frantic.
"She's not dead!"
Wesley hissed. "If we can get her to the hospital—!"
"I don't think we can
make it to the hospital!"
"We have to make it to
the hospital!"
Angel didn't hear them
anymore. He choked back tears as he looked her up and down. He felt the last
tick of her heart start to fade,
There was nothing they
could do…
Nothing they could
do…
Nothing they could
do…
Angel snarled a growl that sent both his
friends spinning back in surprise. Snapping his head back, and coming forward
wearing his game face, he raised his wrist to his mouth, pushing back his
sleeve with his teeth, and bit down hard into his skin. It gushed blood, and he
reached forward again, pulling the lifeless girl into his lap.
What he was doing…
There had been no choice, not even time for a choice.
Angel held her jaw
steady in his free hand, forcing her mouth open, and then pressed his gushing
wound to her lips. Before Wesley or Gunn could do or say anything, he was
tilting her head back, forcing the liquid down and using his fingers to make
her swallow. Tears stung at his eyes, but he kept it up. He shoved Gunn off
first, then Wesley, as they attempted to make him stop. And he ignored their
screams as they begged him not to do it and threatened to stake him in the
back.
And then it was done.
His blood was in her.
And he could hear it absorbing into her body. It welcomed it; drank it up
greedily…accepted it. A dying body was always eager for new life, even this
kind... Angel sat back on his heels, still cradling her head in his hands,
the bite on his wrist still bleeding but already starting to heal. The blood
had started to cake on his sleeve.
His game face fell
away, and it was his human face that sat staring down at her. He stared down
into her eyes; waiting, witnessing, as a spark of something new, something
unnatural…began to brew. As much as he wanted to stop, as much shame as it had
caused him to watch, he couldn't look away.
He owed it to her not
to. He'd done it to her, and so he couldn't let her down.
Angel clutched
Cordelia to him, holding her tight. Even when Wesley and Gunn, forgetting their
attempts to languish him, fell silent and crawled most fearfully to sit beside
him, Angel just held her and rocked her. He couldn't let her go.
"She wont be evil,"
Angel swore, quickly dropping Cordelia's body down onto his bed.
After sitting in an
unsettling silence for far too long, the three of them had snapped into action
and gotten Cordelia out of there. They brought her back to the Hotel in Angel's
car. Wesley had tried to take Cordelia from Angel when they got into the
vehicle, but Angel had refused. He sat in the back seat with her, cradling her
the whole way while Wesley sat up front, arguing profusely about what they were
going to do now. Gunn had drove. It'd taken them only a few minutes to get
home.
"And just how in the
hell can we stop her!" Wesley demanded angrily. Gunn lingered near the open
door. For the first time in a long time, being with his crew he felt in over
his head. He stayed back, out of the way, only half paying attention to the
escalating tension; the other part of him was fixated on the body of his
friend, now lying very still on the bed.
"She won't, Wesley!"
Angel barked. "I wont let her be evil!" He began stalking circles in the room,
rubbing his temples with his fingers, alluding a headache that he only imagined
was there.
"YOU'VE TURNED HER
INTO A BLOODY VAMPIRE!" Wesley screamed. "OF COURSE SHE'S GOING TO BE EVIL!"
"Just shut up,
Wesley!" Angel hissed. "Just…just SHUT UP! Okay!"
"I wont shut up,
Angel! I wont!" He stalked up to the souled vampire and made a blatant attempt
to get in his face. "You damned her, Angel! You damned her! By the next
nightfall, she is going to wake up a seething, hungry curse against mankind!
She's not going to have a soul! She's not going to be able to be talked out of
her one true instinct, to kill! And… And…AND SHE'S NOT GOING TO BE CORDELIA
ANYMORE, do you understand that??? She's not going to be Cordelia Chase! She's
not going to be our friend! SHE'S GOING TO BE A BLOOD SUCKING, EVIL VAMPIRE!
ANGEL! DO YOU EVEN REALIZE WHAT YOU'VE DONE???"
"Yes!" Angel cried
out, pushing himself away. Wesley glared angrily as Angel turned his eyes back
to the body. "Yes! Okay?" He sounded desperate. "I know what I did, Wesley! But
I had to, I couldn't let her go! I…I…I couldn't let her go…"
"You most certainly
could have," Wesley bit, coming up to stand besides him. He looked down at
Cordy, too, his eyes welling with tears. "Angel, look at her! She's dead. She's
dead, for Christ's sakes! OH, HELL! We'd might as well stake her now! We'll
have to do it eventually…and she can't wake up—"
"I can't do that!"
Gunn blurted out, rushing up to them and making himself be heard. Angel
flinched away. Wesley looked over at him regretfully, and Gunn started to shake
his head, nightmares of his sister coming back in a rush. He looked down at
Cordelia, then back at Wesley and Angel, then down at Cordelia again, and then
back to Angel. "Angel, man…I can't go through all that again. I can't…We just
can't let her wake up like that…and then kill her! We can't let her become
that! We can't do that to Cordy!"
"Gunn," Wesley tried,
though his own voice already shook with emotion. He took off his glasses and
rubbed his weary eyes. It was time to buck up. Time to face the situation. He
realized his fight with Angel was pointless, and he remembered they were not
the only two people affected by this. He turned from the Vampire and tried to
help Gunn. "Gunn… We need to be…we need to remain calm now,"
"Calm?" Gunn shot.
"CALM??? HOW IN THE HELL DO YOU SUPPOSE WE DO THAT!"
"I don't know, but we
have to keep our heads,"
"We have to keep our
heads…while taking hers! We have to drive a stake through our best
friend's heart, all thanks to this guy over here!" He pointed to Angel. "And
WE'RE SUPPOSED TO STAY CALM??? Maybe Angel here can stay calm! Maybe big Mr.
Ex-Watcher can stay calm! But me…Calm??? CALM isn't even a word I'd
begin to start using right now! No, calm isn't an option!"
Angel turned away from
the pair and stared emptily at the wall, his mind racing.
Humanity.
That one word was the
key to so many things. Angel steadied himself against the dresser, overcome
with memories. He hadn't been thinking clearly when he'd bled himself to keep
her with them, but he had been thinking something. He knew there was some
hope…something to cling to… He wouldn't have acted out of just sheer
desperation alone.
He turned back to the
body and went forward to sit on the bed beside her. He leaned down over her,
placing his ear over the place where her now still, dead heart lay inside of
her. He closed his eyes in anguish and bit down on his lip. He rose back,
opening his eyes, and then looked down at her still face.
That power was still building within her,
and in less than a day, she would rise a child of darkness. He didn't want that
for her. And he wouldn't let her go on that way.
Angel traced his
finger over the dried blood on her cheek. This time when tears brimmed, he
couldn't stop them, and one slid out, slowly down his face. He quickly ignored
it, and using his thumb, wiped away some of the smudges from her mouth. He
reached out, smoothing her hair aside, and then quickly touching his fingers to
her eyelids, brought them closed, shielding her eyes from the world.
By
the time they noticed what he was doing, Angel was turning back to Wes and
Gunn, and wiping his face, he begged them for their help.
"I'll call Giles right
away," Wesley said as the three of them descended the grand staircase towards
the lobby floor. Wesley led, Gunn following, and Angel trailed behind in a
serene silence. "I'll ask him not to tell the others, we don't want to draw any
attention…" They reached the bottom floor and Wes started towards the phone.
"Who knows what the Watcher's Council would do if they found out." Wesley said,
picking up the phone to dial.
"Two souled vamps,"
Gunn thought aloud. "I don't guess they'd think it was very appropriate,"
"She wont be souled,
she'll be human," Angel interjected. Wes and Gunn gave him an apathetic glance,
knowing all too well that the odds were stacked highly against them.
"Angel…you know that
may not be possible," Wes paused, resting the phone against his shoulder. Angel
shook his head.
"I've got some
information…" He dwindled. Wes watched him expectantly. Angel looked away.
"Just get Giles here, and I'll tell you everything. For now, we need to
research every text that we have. We've got to get all the details, know all
the possibilities… We've got to research." He went quickly towards the bookshelves,
and started picking out books two or three at a time.
"Go help him, Gunn,"
Wesley said quietly. Gunn nodded and obliged. Wes took up the phone again and
dialed his old colleague.
It was nearly One AM.
Giles was startled by
the ringing of the telephone. He'd just gotten to sleep, early for once, and he
sat up reluctantly, propping himself against his pillows as he tried to
regather his still sleeping wits. He switched on the lamp on his nightstand,
blinking his eyes against its harsh, bright glare, and picked up the receiver.
"Hello?" He mumbled
hoarsely. His brow wrinkled in confusion at the sound of Wesley's voice on the
other end. He glanced at the clock and rubbed his eyes. "Wesley, what could be
so important at this hour—"
His eyes widened in
surprise. He held his breath as he listened to the hurried story. He gasped,
swinging his legs over the side of the bed, now fully alert, and quickly
understanding the dire situation being presented to him. "Yes, yes, of course."
He answered. "Certainly… My god… Of course, of course I'll come…Right away,
Wesley. Let me get a pen…" Giles looked around quickly for a pen. He found one,
and a piece of scratch paper, and he quickly took down directions. "No…I wont
tell anyone…Yes…Yes…I'll leave shortly…I'll bring every piece of text I have.
Expect me there before dawn."
With that he hung up.
He stood quickly, in
complete disregard to his disarrayed sheets, and went out to the den where he
quickly grabbed his books. Within twenty minutes Giles had transported nine
boxes of text to his car. He dressed quickly, tossing some spare clothing into
a bag, grabbed some toiletries, and left.
It was on the road
leaving Sunnydale that he'd contemplated his promise.
The others. They'd be
suspicious; him leaving at such a strange hour in the middle of the night… He
really should have left them at least a note.
When he got to L.A.,
he'd call them and let them know not to worry; that he'd had to leave for a few
days, but he'd be back soon.
The hard part would be
coming up with a plausible excuse.
When he called, no way
would The Scooby Gang let him off with a quick explanation. He'd be uming and
erring, and they'd catch on very quickly that something was immensely wrong.
And he wouldn't be able to tell them a thing. He'd promised Wesley he wouldn't.
But he knew they were going to question him…
'Oh why couldn't I
have just left a note?' He asked himself and sighed.
He passed a road sign.
Two more hours till Los Angeles…