Author: Anna
Title: Chasing Cordy
Rating: this part, PG-13.
Pairing: C/A
Disclaimer: They're not mine. Well. Maybe a touch of Liam's accent.
Summary: When spells go wrong. As they do.
A/N: This fic's existence is thanks to Ando, so it's dedicated to her.
Also, if the Irish is incorrect, please forgive me. I'm a little rusty.
Prologue
"I love her Wesley!" said Angel, a new urgency in his voice. "I love her and I want to sleep with her!"
Wesley tried to suppress a smile. He failed. Angel chuckled sheepishly, and sat down again in front of Wesley's desk.
"Okay, maybe I could have phrased that more delicately," he admitted.
"Perhaps," agreed Wesley.
"But Wes," continued Angel, sitting forward earnestly once again. "Please. There's got to be a way to make my soul permanent. Can you find it?"
Wesley sighed, steepling his fingers.
"Angel, gypsy magics are very powerful and much of the lore has been lost. I really don't know if I can."
"Just try. Please, Wes."
"Of course," said Wesley. "I'll start looking through the books now."
"I love her so much," said Angel wistfully, his mind's eye on Cordelia.
"I know," said Wesley gently.
"Plus, she's a hottie."
"And I'm getting the books."
~*~
Part 1
Wesley stood in the doorway to Angel's suite watching the vampire pace to and fro.
"So tonight's the night?" asked Angel anxiously.
"Yes," replied Wesley. "Cordelia will be gone, as will Gunn and Fred. We can do it here in the hotel, and if it doesn't work, no one will be the wiser."
"Right." Angel paused. "But it will work, right?"
"I hope so," said Wesley, adjusting his glasses. "Well. Come down when you're ready."
"I will," said Angel.
Wesley left, closing the door as he turned. Angel continued to pace nervously. This was big. Bigger than big. And who would have thought he would end up doing this for Cordelia? Not Buffy. Cordelia. How things had changed.
Cordelia. Her voice at the door.
"Angel?"
"Yeah?" he replied, halting his pacing.
"Hey," she said, opening the door. "What do you think? Do I look the part? I mean, you should know!"
She was dressed exquisitely. Angel was quite stunned.
"It's very… authentic," he stammered.
"Authentic? I wear this, this gown, and all you can say is authentic?" Cordelia looked not a little irate. "And the hair! Do you know how long this hair took?"
Angel took a moment to take it in. Cordelia dressed in an exquisite eighteenth century gown. She looked breathtaking. In fact, it brought him right back to when he had breath.
"You look beautiful, Cordelia," he said gently.
"Well," said Cordelia, mollified. "That's better."
"In fact," continued Angel, "back in the day, I'd rather take that off than leave it on." He grinned.
Cordelia stared.
"A little more information than I needed, but thanks. I think." She paused. "And now I'm going out."
She was about to turn on her heel when he stopped her.
"Wait, Cordy, why are you wearing that?"
"Costume party? You know, Laura's place? You met her." Cordelia waited for Angel to show some recognition.
"Met her?" he echoed, looking confused.
"At my party? The one you spent in the kitchen talking to Dennis?"
Angel had no idea.
"Oh, right!" he said. "I remember now. Say hi for me."
Cordelia raised an eyebrow.
"Right," she said, turning. "Because she'll remember you too!"
"I remember her!" called Angel, as Cordelia swept from the room.
Wow, he thought, listening to her skirts swish down the corridor. She could really do that with the best of them.
"Hey, Cordy, wait!" he called after her again.
"What now?"
He followed her into the corridor. She looked a little annoyed.
"Have a good time," he said, smiling.
She melted, and smiled in return, a big smile, one that warmed his old, cold heart.
"Thanks," she said.
And then she was gone.
And Angel realised he was very nervous.
Magic had never been his friend. Yes, he conceded, the curse had stopped him killing. But it had also been the bane of his existence since he had met Buffy. And now Cordelia. Every day, with her, around her, the scent of her in the very fabric of the hotel. He loved it and hated it, because he could not have her. But now, with this spell, he could at least admit his feelings for her, and then he would see. See if she felt the same way. And if she did…
No. Don't go there. Not yet. First, the spell.
He went downstairs.
~*~
Wesley had seen Cordelia out the door and immediately taken out the supplies. Herbs, check. Ribbons, check. Candles, check. Same old props. He watched Angel come down the stairs into the lobby, a nervous frown on the vampire's face.
"How do you feel?" asked Wesley.
"Scared," replied Angel.
Wesley sighed, arranging the thyme.
"It will be alright. I am sure."
"How sure?"
"Ninety seven percent?"
Angel glared. Wesley flinched.
"Ninety seven is a lot!" he said defensively.
Angel said nothing, merely toyed with a large white church candle.
"What could happen if it doesn't work?" he asked quietly.
"Nothing. After the spell, Lorne will read you, and tell you if your soul is anchored."
"No other possible side effects?"
"No, I assure you."
Angel seemed somewhat calmer.
"Well, that doesn't seem so bad," he admitted. "Where is Lorne?"
"He said he'd be here. I'm sure he will arrive before it is time to read you."
Angel nodded curtly.
"Okay," he said. "Let's do it, then."
"Right," said Wesley. "You sit here." He indicated a chair in the middle of the circle he had made with the herbs and candles. Angel took the seat. "And we're ready, as soon as I do this."
Wesley approached the chair and bound Angel to it with a length of white ribbon.
"What's that for?" asked Angel, a panicky note in his voice.
"It represents the binding of your soul. Don't worry, I shan't tie it too tightly."
Angel looked a little discomfited but tried to relax as Wesley wrapped the ribbon three times around his torso and tied it loosely behind him. He looked at the floor, at the candles and herbs surrounding him.
"Why do these Latin things always require so many herbs?" mused Angel, looking around.
"Oh, it's not Latin. You might recognize it, actually." Wesley looked a little sheepish.
"No," said Angel, incredulously. "The English man is going to try Irish? My mother would love to see this," he chuckled.
"I'll have you know I studied Gaelic in the Watchers' Academy."
"No Irish person calls it Gaelic, amadán. Now get on with it. This I've got to hear."
Wesley looked nonplussed. However, he cleared his throat, and began to read.
"Anam neamhbhuan, anam díomuan; táimid anseo anocht chun iarraidh ó na mórchumhachta an t-anam sin a thabhairt don seaimpín seo go buaine."
Angel suppressed a snicker.
"Do you mind?" whispered Wesley. "This is your soul we are dealing with!"
Angel sobered himself, and tried to concentrate. He did not know on what, but he felt that he should.
Wesley continued.
"Mar ba mhaith leis grá a dhéanamh len' anam chara, lena ghrá fhéin, Cordelia Chase."
Angel spluttered.
"What?" he demanded, attempting to rise from the chair. Wesley had tied the ribbon tighter than he expected. Or perhaps it was enchanted. "Because what?"
"You have to tell the truth!" said Wesley defensively. "They'd know!"
"Bind my soul because I want to make love with Cordelia Chase? Wesley! Do you have to be that specific?" Angel looked thunderous, and yet there was a certain amusement in his eyes that his anger could not quell.
"Look, please, I have to finish!"
Angel calmed himself and sat back in the chair.
"Just try to be a little more delicate, okay?" he muttered.
Wesley threw him a sharp glance, and continued with the final part of the spell.
"Ionas go mbeadh an duine seo mar a bhí sé ar dtús, cé gur deamhan fola é, éist linn anois! Éist linn!"
Wesley ended with a flourish. The candles extinguished themselves with equal flair.
Angel looked slowly at Wesley, his face stony.
"What did you just say?" he asked quietly.
Wesley frowned.
"I asked for your soul to be as it was, permanent."
Angel stood, breaking through the ribbon.
"No, you didn't. Wesley…"
If it was possible, he looked paler than usual. He stumbled forward, kicking the herbs as he fell towards the wall.
Wesley looked on in shock, then ran forward to help the weakening vampire.
"Angel! Angel?" Wesley caught him as he fell. Angel mumbled incoherently. "Is this supposed to happen?" asked Wesley frantically. Angel was unable to reply. I took all his strength not to collapse entirely.
Wesley half dragged, half carried Angel to the elevator and from there to his suite. He laid Angel on the bed, and ran back downstairs for the book he had been reading from. He brought it back to Angel's room, flicking through it this way and that while watching Angel sleep fitfully.
"Did something go wrong?" he asked himself, "or is this just the spell?" He did not know the answer, and could only leave Angel to sleep while he worked through the wording of the spell.
Hours passed. Angel's sleep had become less troubled, and now he was in deep repose. So deep that Wesley found himself wishing that vampires breathed while they slept. His friend looked eerily corpse-like.
He heard the door open downstairs. Cordelia, he thought. His suspicions were confirmed when he heard her exclaim,
"Hey! What's with the New Gothic? Because it's so not happening."
Wesley made his way to the door, not relishing what was to come.
"I'm rather afraid that it has happened," he said as Cordelia came into view from the elevator.
"What?" Cordelia narrowed her eyes. "Wesley, what?"
Wesley hesitated.
"Wesley," she repeated menacingly.
"We tried a spell," he said, deflating.
Cordelia took a step closer.
"We? Who's we? You and Angel?"
"Yes," replied Wesley.
"What kind of spell?"
Wesley hesitated again.
"To bind his soul," he said quietly.
Cordelia stared.
"To bind his soul," she repeated.
"Yes." Wesley nodded.
"And?" said Cordelia.
Wesley shrugged, frowning.
"Well, I'm not sure," he said. "Angel seemed to have rather an unusual reaction."
"Really. And what's the normal reaction to a soul-binding spell? Know all about it, do you?" Cordelia was now nearly at the door to Angel's suite. "Wesley, what happened?"
Wesley sighed and stood back into the room, allowing Cordelia and her skirts to enter.
Angel lay on the bed, motionless. His face was paler than usual. Cordelia gasped.
"Oh my god. Angel." She rushed to the bed and put her hand on his face, hoping for some sign of life in his lifeless body. "Angel," she whispered. "Wesley, why won't he wake up?" She held him in her arms, looking into his face, willing him to hear her.
Wesley could only shrug in response.
"Angel," she said again, this time more loudly. "Angel!"
Suddenly, he stirred. Took a reflexive breath.
"Wesley! He's waking up!" said Cordelia. Wesley took a step closer, watching Angel come to in Cordelia's arms.
Slowly and groggily, his eyes opened.
"Angel!" whispered Cordelia again. "Are you okay, Angel?"
She watched as a smile spread over his face. He rose his hand and it came to rest on hers.
"I don't think I'm the angel here, darlin'," he drawled with a grin.
"Angel?" said Cordelia uncertainly.
"Aren't you a pretty thing," he said quietly, his other hand coming to rest on her intricately braided hair.
"Okay, Angel, freaking me out now."
"Name's Liam," he said, and then he kissed her so deeply and passionately and downright skilfully that she kissed him back before she knew what she was doing.
~*~
TBC
Title: Chasing Cordy
Rating: this part, PG-13.
Pairing: C/A
Disclaimer: They're not mine. Well. Maybe a touch of Liam's accent.
Summary: When spells go wrong. As they do.
A/N: This fic's existence is thanks to Ando, so it's dedicated to her.
Also, if the Irish is incorrect, please forgive me. I'm a little rusty.
Prologue
"I love her Wesley!" said Angel, a new urgency in his voice. "I love her and I want to sleep with her!"
Wesley tried to suppress a smile. He failed. Angel chuckled sheepishly, and sat down again in front of Wesley's desk.
"Okay, maybe I could have phrased that more delicately," he admitted.
"Perhaps," agreed Wesley.
"But Wes," continued Angel, sitting forward earnestly once again. "Please. There's got to be a way to make my soul permanent. Can you find it?"
Wesley sighed, steepling his fingers.
"Angel, gypsy magics are very powerful and much of the lore has been lost. I really don't know if I can."
"Just try. Please, Wes."
"Of course," said Wesley. "I'll start looking through the books now."
"I love her so much," said Angel wistfully, his mind's eye on Cordelia.
"I know," said Wesley gently.
"Plus, she's a hottie."
"And I'm getting the books."
~*~
Part 1
Wesley stood in the doorway to Angel's suite watching the vampire pace to and fro.
"So tonight's the night?" asked Angel anxiously.
"Yes," replied Wesley. "Cordelia will be gone, as will Gunn and Fred. We can do it here in the hotel, and if it doesn't work, no one will be the wiser."
"Right." Angel paused. "But it will work, right?"
"I hope so," said Wesley, adjusting his glasses. "Well. Come down when you're ready."
"I will," said Angel.
Wesley left, closing the door as he turned. Angel continued to pace nervously. This was big. Bigger than big. And who would have thought he would end up doing this for Cordelia? Not Buffy. Cordelia. How things had changed.
Cordelia. Her voice at the door.
"Angel?"
"Yeah?" he replied, halting his pacing.
"Hey," she said, opening the door. "What do you think? Do I look the part? I mean, you should know!"
She was dressed exquisitely. Angel was quite stunned.
"It's very… authentic," he stammered.
"Authentic? I wear this, this gown, and all you can say is authentic?" Cordelia looked not a little irate. "And the hair! Do you know how long this hair took?"
Angel took a moment to take it in. Cordelia dressed in an exquisite eighteenth century gown. She looked breathtaking. In fact, it brought him right back to when he had breath.
"You look beautiful, Cordelia," he said gently.
"Well," said Cordelia, mollified. "That's better."
"In fact," continued Angel, "back in the day, I'd rather take that off than leave it on." He grinned.
Cordelia stared.
"A little more information than I needed, but thanks. I think." She paused. "And now I'm going out."
She was about to turn on her heel when he stopped her.
"Wait, Cordy, why are you wearing that?"
"Costume party? You know, Laura's place? You met her." Cordelia waited for Angel to show some recognition.
"Met her?" he echoed, looking confused.
"At my party? The one you spent in the kitchen talking to Dennis?"
Angel had no idea.
"Oh, right!" he said. "I remember now. Say hi for me."
Cordelia raised an eyebrow.
"Right," she said, turning. "Because she'll remember you too!"
"I remember her!" called Angel, as Cordelia swept from the room.
Wow, he thought, listening to her skirts swish down the corridor. She could really do that with the best of them.
"Hey, Cordy, wait!" he called after her again.
"What now?"
He followed her into the corridor. She looked a little annoyed.
"Have a good time," he said, smiling.
She melted, and smiled in return, a big smile, one that warmed his old, cold heart.
"Thanks," she said.
And then she was gone.
And Angel realised he was very nervous.
Magic had never been his friend. Yes, he conceded, the curse had stopped him killing. But it had also been the bane of his existence since he had met Buffy. And now Cordelia. Every day, with her, around her, the scent of her in the very fabric of the hotel. He loved it and hated it, because he could not have her. But now, with this spell, he could at least admit his feelings for her, and then he would see. See if she felt the same way. And if she did…
No. Don't go there. Not yet. First, the spell.
He went downstairs.
~*~
Wesley had seen Cordelia out the door and immediately taken out the supplies. Herbs, check. Ribbons, check. Candles, check. Same old props. He watched Angel come down the stairs into the lobby, a nervous frown on the vampire's face.
"How do you feel?" asked Wesley.
"Scared," replied Angel.
Wesley sighed, arranging the thyme.
"It will be alright. I am sure."
"How sure?"
"Ninety seven percent?"
Angel glared. Wesley flinched.
"Ninety seven is a lot!" he said defensively.
Angel said nothing, merely toyed with a large white church candle.
"What could happen if it doesn't work?" he asked quietly.
"Nothing. After the spell, Lorne will read you, and tell you if your soul is anchored."
"No other possible side effects?"
"No, I assure you."
Angel seemed somewhat calmer.
"Well, that doesn't seem so bad," he admitted. "Where is Lorne?"
"He said he'd be here. I'm sure he will arrive before it is time to read you."
Angel nodded curtly.
"Okay," he said. "Let's do it, then."
"Right," said Wesley. "You sit here." He indicated a chair in the middle of the circle he had made with the herbs and candles. Angel took the seat. "And we're ready, as soon as I do this."
Wesley approached the chair and bound Angel to it with a length of white ribbon.
"What's that for?" asked Angel, a panicky note in his voice.
"It represents the binding of your soul. Don't worry, I shan't tie it too tightly."
Angel looked a little discomfited but tried to relax as Wesley wrapped the ribbon three times around his torso and tied it loosely behind him. He looked at the floor, at the candles and herbs surrounding him.
"Why do these Latin things always require so many herbs?" mused Angel, looking around.
"Oh, it's not Latin. You might recognize it, actually." Wesley looked a little sheepish.
"No," said Angel, incredulously. "The English man is going to try Irish? My mother would love to see this," he chuckled.
"I'll have you know I studied Gaelic in the Watchers' Academy."
"No Irish person calls it Gaelic, amadán. Now get on with it. This I've got to hear."
Wesley looked nonplussed. However, he cleared his throat, and began to read.
"Anam neamhbhuan, anam díomuan; táimid anseo anocht chun iarraidh ó na mórchumhachta an t-anam sin a thabhairt don seaimpín seo go buaine."
Angel suppressed a snicker.
"Do you mind?" whispered Wesley. "This is your soul we are dealing with!"
Angel sobered himself, and tried to concentrate. He did not know on what, but he felt that he should.
Wesley continued.
"Mar ba mhaith leis grá a dhéanamh len' anam chara, lena ghrá fhéin, Cordelia Chase."
Angel spluttered.
"What?" he demanded, attempting to rise from the chair. Wesley had tied the ribbon tighter than he expected. Or perhaps it was enchanted. "Because what?"
"You have to tell the truth!" said Wesley defensively. "They'd know!"
"Bind my soul because I want to make love with Cordelia Chase? Wesley! Do you have to be that specific?" Angel looked thunderous, and yet there was a certain amusement in his eyes that his anger could not quell.
"Look, please, I have to finish!"
Angel calmed himself and sat back in the chair.
"Just try to be a little more delicate, okay?" he muttered.
Wesley threw him a sharp glance, and continued with the final part of the spell.
"Ionas go mbeadh an duine seo mar a bhí sé ar dtús, cé gur deamhan fola é, éist linn anois! Éist linn!"
Wesley ended with a flourish. The candles extinguished themselves with equal flair.
Angel looked slowly at Wesley, his face stony.
"What did you just say?" he asked quietly.
Wesley frowned.
"I asked for your soul to be as it was, permanent."
Angel stood, breaking through the ribbon.
"No, you didn't. Wesley…"
If it was possible, he looked paler than usual. He stumbled forward, kicking the herbs as he fell towards the wall.
Wesley looked on in shock, then ran forward to help the weakening vampire.
"Angel! Angel?" Wesley caught him as he fell. Angel mumbled incoherently. "Is this supposed to happen?" asked Wesley frantically. Angel was unable to reply. I took all his strength not to collapse entirely.
Wesley half dragged, half carried Angel to the elevator and from there to his suite. He laid Angel on the bed, and ran back downstairs for the book he had been reading from. He brought it back to Angel's room, flicking through it this way and that while watching Angel sleep fitfully.
"Did something go wrong?" he asked himself, "or is this just the spell?" He did not know the answer, and could only leave Angel to sleep while he worked through the wording of the spell.
Hours passed. Angel's sleep had become less troubled, and now he was in deep repose. So deep that Wesley found himself wishing that vampires breathed while they slept. His friend looked eerily corpse-like.
He heard the door open downstairs. Cordelia, he thought. His suspicions were confirmed when he heard her exclaim,
"Hey! What's with the New Gothic? Because it's so not happening."
Wesley made his way to the door, not relishing what was to come.
"I'm rather afraid that it has happened," he said as Cordelia came into view from the elevator.
"What?" Cordelia narrowed her eyes. "Wesley, what?"
Wesley hesitated.
"Wesley," she repeated menacingly.
"We tried a spell," he said, deflating.
Cordelia took a step closer.
"We? Who's we? You and Angel?"
"Yes," replied Wesley.
"What kind of spell?"
Wesley hesitated again.
"To bind his soul," he said quietly.
Cordelia stared.
"To bind his soul," she repeated.
"Yes." Wesley nodded.
"And?" said Cordelia.
Wesley shrugged, frowning.
"Well, I'm not sure," he said. "Angel seemed to have rather an unusual reaction."
"Really. And what's the normal reaction to a soul-binding spell? Know all about it, do you?" Cordelia was now nearly at the door to Angel's suite. "Wesley, what happened?"
Wesley sighed and stood back into the room, allowing Cordelia and her skirts to enter.
Angel lay on the bed, motionless. His face was paler than usual. Cordelia gasped.
"Oh my god. Angel." She rushed to the bed and put her hand on his face, hoping for some sign of life in his lifeless body. "Angel," she whispered. "Wesley, why won't he wake up?" She held him in her arms, looking into his face, willing him to hear her.
Wesley could only shrug in response.
"Angel," she said again, this time more loudly. "Angel!"
Suddenly, he stirred. Took a reflexive breath.
"Wesley! He's waking up!" said Cordelia. Wesley took a step closer, watching Angel come to in Cordelia's arms.
Slowly and groggily, his eyes opened.
"Angel!" whispered Cordelia again. "Are you okay, Angel?"
She watched as a smile spread over his face. He rose his hand and it came to rest on hers.
"I don't think I'm the angel here, darlin'," he drawled with a grin.
"Angel?" said Cordelia uncertainly.
"Aren't you a pretty thing," he said quietly, his other hand coming to rest on her intricately braided hair.
"Okay, Angel, freaking me out now."
"Name's Liam," he said, and then he kissed her so deeply and passionately and downright skilfully that she kissed him back before she knew what she was doing.
~*~
TBC