Disclaimer:
These characters don't belong to me, but to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, and all related entities with a rightful claim to them. Aurora is a character I have created myself, placed in their universe.
This is the sequel to "Protection". While I do a bit of exposition here, I suggest people look up the first one too, just to get a clearer view of what's going on.
This story takes place some time after Are You Now or Have You Ever Been, and one month after the events in "Protection". Charles Gunn does not appear, but only because I still can't find a way to fit him in.
Special dedications to indigo, Beautyone and Dee, who left sweet and inspiring notes and reviews for the "Protection" fic. Though this story was always in some form in my head, the encouragement helped.
Send feedback please to slayerbelle@go.com
Destinies
Chapter 1
"Under the Cloak"
These visions she had, they used to be as often as twice a week. And then they dwindled eventually, to once a month, once every few months, until they had become so rare that she had to ask herself if she didn't just imagine it.
They came to Aurora Halley in her sleep, very painlessly. She would find herself in a room with red velvet walls. It would feel like she was moving in slow motion -- time didn't have as much an impact here. She would have dozed off for ten minutes and get an entire vision before the alarm snooze wore off.
She was standing in the room, alone. For a long time. At some point she would be seeing something in the room -- because that's how the visions went, that's how she found out what she was supposed to do. But this time she was alone, standing in the center of the empty red room. Standing alone for a long time.
"Hello?" she called out. Her voice didn't even echo, the room was too small.
She heard a creak behind her and she turned. A door she had never seen before materialized from one of the walls and opened, a bright light shining outside it.
She stared at it.
And then woke up.
====
"Wesley, it's three in the morning. You'd better rest."
Wesley looked up from the desk and saw his boss eyeing him -- also the desk piled with papers and the half empty pot of coffee next to him. He didn't even realize it was that late. "Angel. I..."
"Since when have you been at this?"
"Oh, um, around noon yesterday." He took off his glasses and tried to shake the fatigue off his head. "I just had a breakthrough on one of the characters... I thought it was important."
Ever since they had gotten the Feuralian Knife in their possession a month ago Wesley had been working steadily, more devotedly than Angel had ever seen -- and Wesley wasn't one to slack off to begin with. The small silver knife lying casually on the cluttered desk was engraved with important inscriptions that Wesley believed was a key -- to translating certain passages in the Scroll of Aberjian.
Angel wanted him to give it a rest for a while, but Wesley seemed so gung-ho about the whole thing. "Anything interesting?"
The former Watcher hesitated, taking the time to clear his throat and wear his eyeglasses again. "I'm on the brink of something very interesting, actually. There's this passage written entirely in what I'm guessing is a demon language, which I never was able to decipher before. Thanks to the Feuralian Knife, I was able to... make some discoveries." Wesley paused at this. "It mentions you again, I believe."
"What about me?"
"Um, I have my notes here... but let me just warn you that this is a very crude translation. I have no idea what kind of semantics and system of idioms this demon language had." He picked up a notebook filled with hasty scribbles, reading not verbatim, but from context. "That the vampire with a soul shall walk alone, but his soul is one with..."
"With?"
"I did warn you that this is a very crude translation..."
"My soul is one with?"
Wesley looked up at him. "The woman who is chosen."
Buffy. He already knew the name would instantly pop into his head, and Wesley knew it too.
"I don't know what that means," Wesley quickly said. "My translation of the whole sentence is questionable at best... but this is what I have so far."
Wesley was trying not to give him false hopes, but Angel knew better than to make any for himself right now. He appreciated his friend's effort, though.
He smiled. "This is all you've figured out in a month?"
"Well, no," Wesley said defensively, riffling the notebook a couple of pages forward. "The passage, I believe, isn't actually about you, but is about Buf--this woman. There is a word that recurs throughout the passage, which I've managed to translate into the ancient Rumaji word 'Liware' -- meaning light. Or wisdom, or brightness, or beauty. This 'liware' shall follow the woman who is chosen and will give her a gift. Er... something like that."
"You think this woman is Buffy."
"What? Well, no. I can't really say."
"You just said her name."
"I did not."
Angel realized this early morning conversation was going to take longer than originally planned, so he pulled up a chair. "I don't mind if you think it's her, Wesley. I think it's her too."
"Angel, we can't totally put our faith in this... this is just too hard to verify and I don't want, well, let's just say I got the Shanshu prophecy wrong the first time and I could just as wrong here."
"But for the sake of argument." Angel gently picked up the Scroll and looked at the passage they were talking about. "This could be important news to Buffy. This, this liware. What will it be? Enlightenment?"
"Well, um, the word generally is translated directly as 'light' or 'brightness', but has been used also as synonyms for many words like wisdom, beauty, sometimes even love."
"But this is good news for her."
Wesley sighed. "Well yes... so far. It all sounds good."
"Good then." Angel started rolling up the Scroll. "Now go home. I don't want you burning yourself out over good news."
====
He had rolled up the Scroll but didn't deposit it back into the weapons safe as he had intended. Alone in the Hyperion Hotel now, he took out the old piece of parchment and stared at it.
Just words. And yet for some reason, these simple words charted destinies. His own. Cordelia's. Wesley's. Buffy's life had been governed at one time or another by prophecies as well. Someone in the past may have arbitrarily written a poem that was now determining the course of his life.
One of these passages had already promised him redemption, but it was an end that was so far out of sight he didn't even dream it to be true. But he allowed himself the minimum of hoping, nothing more.
At sunrise he heard the doors to the hotel open, and footsteps -- not the light step of Wesley nor the perky tapping of Cordelia -- echoed in the room. Angel tensed for a second and then relaxed, realizing to whom the steps belonged.
He rolled up the Scroll and tucked it into the drawer of the desk, and then met his visitor in the lobby.
Lindsey McDonald, junior partner at the law firm of Wolfram and Hart, was already sitting on the couch. "I'm glad I caught you before bedtime, Angel."
"You don't want to get your blood on your suit before you even get to work, Lindsey."
Lindsey stood up. "On the contrary, I'm on my way home from work. Had some special deliveries done late in the night. You're my last stop." He paused to retrieve something from his briefcase, which was lying on its side on top of the coffee table.
A wide brown envelope. With the Wolfram and Hart insignia.
Angel stared at it for a second before accepting it. "What is this, Lindsey?"
"I think I'll stay here while you open it. It's self explanatory from there."
The envelope was thin, and he already had an idea what was inside. A photograph. What he didn't expect was to pull out an 8 by 10 black and white.
Of him and Aurora.
It was taken that night she said goodbye to him. At the bar that reminded him of The Bronze. She had taken that one time to talk to him and tell him that she didn't regret meeting him. He didn't want her to continue what she was doing, but she didn't listen and he had to respect it.
"Photography a new hobby of yours, Lindsey?" He said through clenched teeth.
"Yes, a new interest." Lindsey snapped his briefcase shut, the sound ringing like gunshots in the silence. "Only five copies of that photograph are in existence, Angel, and they've all been delivered to their respective owners. Or at least they're about to be."
He spoke with a smug, corporate manner and Angel could feel the anger rippling through him in waves, clouding his eyes and tensing his fists. "You realize the kind of danger you've now put an innocent girl in. What do you want from me?"
"Actually, nothing. What happens to her is beyond you now. I just wanted to see your face when you found out." Lindsey picked up his briefcase by the handle. "And now my work day officially ends."
He smiled, and turned to leave.
"You know I'll save her." Angel growled at him.
"And I hope you do." Lindsey said. "But don't you think you've done enough?"
Angel didn't see him leave. He vaguely heard the door close, but was intent on the picture again. He didn't need guesses to figure out where the other copies of the photograph went.
Aurora was in serious danger.
The photograph was of him kissing her.
====
Cordelia's doorbell rang for the third time in two hours.
"Great," she muttered as she tightened her bathrobe around her and trudged barefoot to her door. "This is just a whole big party now, isn't it?"
Not contented with the doorbell, her new visitor knocked urgently on the wood. "Cordelia, it's me."
Of course. Angel. He wouldn't miss this.
She opened the door a teensy bit and peeked out. "Hi, Angel."
He had that furrowed brow thing going, and when Angel of the stoicism was worried, it was never good. It was usually about Buffy or the apocalypse, and any trouble with those two... was never good.
"Cordelia," he said, as breathless as a no-breath person could be, "You have to tell me where to find Aurora."
She lifted a hand to stop him. "Angel --"
"No wait, I know you promised her that you wouldn't tell me, but this is really important and her life is seriously in danger and... I know I can't make you do anything against your will but... I demand that you tell me where she is!"
Aw. Sometimes he could be so uncool it was cute. "Come in." she said, opening the door wider for him and walking back into the kitchen.
Angel followed her, so quickly he almost forgot to close the door behind him. "Cordelia, this is important, I really need to--"
Cordelia turned around to face him. "As I was saying before the blabbermouth interrupted me -- she's already here." She pointed to her kitchen table, where Aurora was sitting on a chair, having the breakfast Dennis was whipping up. Across from her was an alert but still visibly fatigued Wesley.
Aurora had been the first to arrive, around two hours ago, visibly shaken and for the first time Cordelia thought she actually looked a little afraid. She had gotten a threatening message in the mail, and because she had made that little agreement with herself never to contact Angel again, she went straight for Cordelia's.
What Cordelia hadn't told Angel (yet), was how close she actually had been with Aurora since they'd first met almost four weeks ago. Lunch several times, long nights just talking about stuff -- girlie stuff. Much as she loved Angel and Wesley, it just felt good to be talking to a girl again. Sometimes she'd itch to just be bitchy and talk about spas and waxing, but somehow she knew that wouldn't go over well with the 200-year-old vampire and the British guy.
It also helped that the nature of Aurora's work -- watching Angel from a distance, protecting him from his despair and intervening in case he wished to end it all -- and that she had been doing it for eight years now. She was in a strange and special position. Cordy could talk to her about people from high school and she'd know what to say. It was weird, for a while, but Cordelia got used to it, and soon it was almost like Aurora had been in Sunnydale High with her. Which was almost the truth.
And she also knew Doyle. Both of them being instruments of the Powers and all.
It was a strange comfort, hearing stories about Doyle. The Doyle she never knew as much as she could have.
She didn't tell Angel all of this because once he found out about Aurora and what she was doing, well, he didn't like it. Aurora had put herself in considerable danger because of her calling, and in his usual self-deprecating way he insisted that she stop it because he wasn't worth it. And this was his I-told-you-so moment, now that Aurora truly was in danger.
He saw her, having the scrambled eggs Dennis made, a little calmer now, her eyes less steely. He rushed to her, kneeling beside her chair, his eyes leveling with hers. "Aurora."
And then Cordelia saw it -- Aurora visibly shrinked away from Angel. It's not like they were best friends now, but the body language was definitely off.
Cordelia took her seat and nudged Wesley. "Eggs. Have some. Don't insult the ghost roommate."
"Oh. Of course. Thank you, Dennis." Poor guy, he was still definitely out of it. She had called him over almost the moment Aurora arrived, and it was like he was seven miles from consciousness when he picked up the phone. He had just been working on that silly scroll all day and all night for weeks...
"So you know," Angel said, holding both Aurora's hands now.
She nodded toward the table, where the incriminating photograph lay. "I got it a few hours ago. How did you know?"
"I got my own personal copy delivered. Lindsey McDonald took the picture, Aurora."
Cordelia remembered that night at the bar. She had brought Angel there. "But I didn't see him there, Angel. The Peeping Tom."
"Well, I'm sure he's very acquainted with the ways of the sneaky," Wesley said, to muffle a yawn. "Aurora should probably stay with one of us, Angel. Jenny Calendar's family could find out about her any time now."
"She should stay with me," Angel said. "Because they already now."
The steel exterior wavered a little. "How do you know that?" Aurora exclaimed.
"Lindsey said only five copies of the photograph exist, and they're with their rightful owners already."
Wesley held up a hand. "Aurora's family, Jenny Calendar's family, Aurora, Angel. Who's the fifth?"
"Wouldn't Lindsey want a copy of his own masterpiece framed and hung somewhere?" Cordelia suggested.
Angel gave her a look, *shot* her one, and that was never good too. "Probably for insurance. What matters is they know and you have to tell me what happens next, Aurora. Has anyone contacted you already about this?"
"No, but it's only a matter of time."
Angel gripped her hands with emphasis now, and Cordelia caught the hint of a shiver, and it wasn't because of popsicle vamp hands.
"My... my family will be contacting me soon. If they have the picture, they're probably looking for me right now." She was addressing all three of them, noticeably uneasy with Angel being so close. "I expect that a spell will be performed on me, one that will officially remove me as Angel's protector, hence disable all the powers associated with it."
"You won't be able to defend yourself," Wesley realized.
"How are they going to protect you?" Angel asked.
"They won't. If I stay with them, when I'm found everyone else is found. They have to sever all ties with me."
"Never to see your family again?" Wesley was surprised.
She nodded.
"You're assuming the Kalderash *will* find you."
"Oh they will." She was making a statement, and was only slightly distressed by it. "They know who to look for now. And they've always eventually found your protectors, Angel. Always. It's just a matter of time."
"How old were you when you started this?"
She smiled, almost wistfully. "Sixteen."
If it was possible Angel gripped her hands even tighter, almost angrily. "You knew this would happen to you."
"Yes."
"You knew you would eventually die protecting me and you, at age sixteen, agreed to do it?"
She winced; he was starting to hurt her hands. "I didn't agree to this, Angel, this is what I was born to do."
"You always have a choice, Aurora. This is crazy, what you're doing. I don't need it."
"Don't say that," she retorted, but quietly, almost pleadingly.
"Hey, hey," Cordelia interrupted. "Angel, please."
He reluctantly let go of her hands. "I'm sorry, I..." His tone softened, and he could see how she was distancing herself now. "How long until they perform this spell on you? The one to remove your powers."
She shrugged. "I don't know. I'm not even sure if they've already done it. If my presence is required at all."
"We should test it then." Wesley suggested, right before helping himself to some eggs. "Theoretically, you're safe from harm as long as you have them."
"OK," Aurora let out her breath, looking around the room. "Um, oK, someone attack me."
"What?" Cordelia exclaimed.
"Someone attack me. Powers come on only if I'm in mortal danger."
Cordelia shook her head and pointed to Angel. "Go ahead, boss."
"But I can't intend to hurt you, Aurora." Angel tried to decline.
"Intent doesn't matter. As long as you put my life in serious jeopardy--"
Suddenly Aurora's arm shot straight up, in a split second catching by the handle a knife that was going to pierce her throat. It was too fast even for Angel, who had tried to make a grab for it but missed by a moment.
Or at least, that's what Cordelia thought happened. It was all a blur, going on much too fast for her.
And then, just as quickly as it happened it was over, and they were left staring at the knife in Aurora's hand.
Cordelia let out the breath she didn't even realize she was holding. "Wow. Powerpuff Girl you still are then. Thank you for settling all that, Dennis."
A pan with freshly cooked eggs flew right in front of them in acknowledgment.
Angel was livid, of course. "Dennis, you could have seriously hurt Aurora..."
Cordelia snorted. "Oh, don't blame the dead guy." Who seemed to sincerely like Aurora. He was cooking eggs and everything. The first time he saw her he even made little margaritas. As if her ghost roommate would be getting lucky in *this* lifetime.
"It's fine, really. Thank you, Dennis." Aurora set down the knife on the table and sighed. "And I'm not going to be stubborn now, Angel. If you think I'm safer at the Hyperion I'll stay there with you. I just... I just really need to get some sleep. I think Wesley does too."
"Oh, no, I'm totally fine," Wesley was quick to correct her, raising his fork in emphasis, only succeeding in knocking over his coffee cup. "I guess I do need some...rest. Just a little."
These characters don't belong to me, but to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, and all related entities with a rightful claim to them. Aurora is a character I have created myself, placed in their universe.
This is the sequel to "Protection". While I do a bit of exposition here, I suggest people look up the first one too, just to get a clearer view of what's going on.
This story takes place some time after Are You Now or Have You Ever Been, and one month after the events in "Protection". Charles Gunn does not appear, but only because I still can't find a way to fit him in.
Special dedications to indigo, Beautyone and Dee, who left sweet and inspiring notes and reviews for the "Protection" fic. Though this story was always in some form in my head, the encouragement helped.
Send feedback please to slayerbelle@go.com
Destinies
Chapter 1
"Under the Cloak"
These visions she had, they used to be as often as twice a week. And then they dwindled eventually, to once a month, once every few months, until they had become so rare that she had to ask herself if she didn't just imagine it.
They came to Aurora Halley in her sleep, very painlessly. She would find herself in a room with red velvet walls. It would feel like she was moving in slow motion -- time didn't have as much an impact here. She would have dozed off for ten minutes and get an entire vision before the alarm snooze wore off.
She was standing in the room, alone. For a long time. At some point she would be seeing something in the room -- because that's how the visions went, that's how she found out what she was supposed to do. But this time she was alone, standing in the center of the empty red room. Standing alone for a long time.
"Hello?" she called out. Her voice didn't even echo, the room was too small.
She heard a creak behind her and she turned. A door she had never seen before materialized from one of the walls and opened, a bright light shining outside it.
She stared at it.
And then woke up.
====
"Wesley, it's three in the morning. You'd better rest."
Wesley looked up from the desk and saw his boss eyeing him -- also the desk piled with papers and the half empty pot of coffee next to him. He didn't even realize it was that late. "Angel. I..."
"Since when have you been at this?"
"Oh, um, around noon yesterday." He took off his glasses and tried to shake the fatigue off his head. "I just had a breakthrough on one of the characters... I thought it was important."
Ever since they had gotten the Feuralian Knife in their possession a month ago Wesley had been working steadily, more devotedly than Angel had ever seen -- and Wesley wasn't one to slack off to begin with. The small silver knife lying casually on the cluttered desk was engraved with important inscriptions that Wesley believed was a key -- to translating certain passages in the Scroll of Aberjian.
Angel wanted him to give it a rest for a while, but Wesley seemed so gung-ho about the whole thing. "Anything interesting?"
The former Watcher hesitated, taking the time to clear his throat and wear his eyeglasses again. "I'm on the brink of something very interesting, actually. There's this passage written entirely in what I'm guessing is a demon language, which I never was able to decipher before. Thanks to the Feuralian Knife, I was able to... make some discoveries." Wesley paused at this. "It mentions you again, I believe."
"What about me?"
"Um, I have my notes here... but let me just warn you that this is a very crude translation. I have no idea what kind of semantics and system of idioms this demon language had." He picked up a notebook filled with hasty scribbles, reading not verbatim, but from context. "That the vampire with a soul shall walk alone, but his soul is one with..."
"With?"
"I did warn you that this is a very crude translation..."
"My soul is one with?"
Wesley looked up at him. "The woman who is chosen."
Buffy. He already knew the name would instantly pop into his head, and Wesley knew it too.
"I don't know what that means," Wesley quickly said. "My translation of the whole sentence is questionable at best... but this is what I have so far."
Wesley was trying not to give him false hopes, but Angel knew better than to make any for himself right now. He appreciated his friend's effort, though.
He smiled. "This is all you've figured out in a month?"
"Well, no," Wesley said defensively, riffling the notebook a couple of pages forward. "The passage, I believe, isn't actually about you, but is about Buf--this woman. There is a word that recurs throughout the passage, which I've managed to translate into the ancient Rumaji word 'Liware' -- meaning light. Or wisdom, or brightness, or beauty. This 'liware' shall follow the woman who is chosen and will give her a gift. Er... something like that."
"You think this woman is Buffy."
"What? Well, no. I can't really say."
"You just said her name."
"I did not."
Angel realized this early morning conversation was going to take longer than originally planned, so he pulled up a chair. "I don't mind if you think it's her, Wesley. I think it's her too."
"Angel, we can't totally put our faith in this... this is just too hard to verify and I don't want, well, let's just say I got the Shanshu prophecy wrong the first time and I could just as wrong here."
"But for the sake of argument." Angel gently picked up the Scroll and looked at the passage they were talking about. "This could be important news to Buffy. This, this liware. What will it be? Enlightenment?"
"Well, um, the word generally is translated directly as 'light' or 'brightness', but has been used also as synonyms for many words like wisdom, beauty, sometimes even love."
"But this is good news for her."
Wesley sighed. "Well yes... so far. It all sounds good."
"Good then." Angel started rolling up the Scroll. "Now go home. I don't want you burning yourself out over good news."
====
He had rolled up the Scroll but didn't deposit it back into the weapons safe as he had intended. Alone in the Hyperion Hotel now, he took out the old piece of parchment and stared at it.
Just words. And yet for some reason, these simple words charted destinies. His own. Cordelia's. Wesley's. Buffy's life had been governed at one time or another by prophecies as well. Someone in the past may have arbitrarily written a poem that was now determining the course of his life.
One of these passages had already promised him redemption, but it was an end that was so far out of sight he didn't even dream it to be true. But he allowed himself the minimum of hoping, nothing more.
At sunrise he heard the doors to the hotel open, and footsteps -- not the light step of Wesley nor the perky tapping of Cordelia -- echoed in the room. Angel tensed for a second and then relaxed, realizing to whom the steps belonged.
He rolled up the Scroll and tucked it into the drawer of the desk, and then met his visitor in the lobby.
Lindsey McDonald, junior partner at the law firm of Wolfram and Hart, was already sitting on the couch. "I'm glad I caught you before bedtime, Angel."
"You don't want to get your blood on your suit before you even get to work, Lindsey."
Lindsey stood up. "On the contrary, I'm on my way home from work. Had some special deliveries done late in the night. You're my last stop." He paused to retrieve something from his briefcase, which was lying on its side on top of the coffee table.
A wide brown envelope. With the Wolfram and Hart insignia.
Angel stared at it for a second before accepting it. "What is this, Lindsey?"
"I think I'll stay here while you open it. It's self explanatory from there."
The envelope was thin, and he already had an idea what was inside. A photograph. What he didn't expect was to pull out an 8 by 10 black and white.
Of him and Aurora.
It was taken that night she said goodbye to him. At the bar that reminded him of The Bronze. She had taken that one time to talk to him and tell him that she didn't regret meeting him. He didn't want her to continue what she was doing, but she didn't listen and he had to respect it.
"Photography a new hobby of yours, Lindsey?" He said through clenched teeth.
"Yes, a new interest." Lindsey snapped his briefcase shut, the sound ringing like gunshots in the silence. "Only five copies of that photograph are in existence, Angel, and they've all been delivered to their respective owners. Or at least they're about to be."
He spoke with a smug, corporate manner and Angel could feel the anger rippling through him in waves, clouding his eyes and tensing his fists. "You realize the kind of danger you've now put an innocent girl in. What do you want from me?"
"Actually, nothing. What happens to her is beyond you now. I just wanted to see your face when you found out." Lindsey picked up his briefcase by the handle. "And now my work day officially ends."
He smiled, and turned to leave.
"You know I'll save her." Angel growled at him.
"And I hope you do." Lindsey said. "But don't you think you've done enough?"
Angel didn't see him leave. He vaguely heard the door close, but was intent on the picture again. He didn't need guesses to figure out where the other copies of the photograph went.
Aurora was in serious danger.
The photograph was of him kissing her.
====
Cordelia's doorbell rang for the third time in two hours.
"Great," she muttered as she tightened her bathrobe around her and trudged barefoot to her door. "This is just a whole big party now, isn't it?"
Not contented with the doorbell, her new visitor knocked urgently on the wood. "Cordelia, it's me."
Of course. Angel. He wouldn't miss this.
She opened the door a teensy bit and peeked out. "Hi, Angel."
He had that furrowed brow thing going, and when Angel of the stoicism was worried, it was never good. It was usually about Buffy or the apocalypse, and any trouble with those two... was never good.
"Cordelia," he said, as breathless as a no-breath person could be, "You have to tell me where to find Aurora."
She lifted a hand to stop him. "Angel --"
"No wait, I know you promised her that you wouldn't tell me, but this is really important and her life is seriously in danger and... I know I can't make you do anything against your will but... I demand that you tell me where she is!"
Aw. Sometimes he could be so uncool it was cute. "Come in." she said, opening the door wider for him and walking back into the kitchen.
Angel followed her, so quickly he almost forgot to close the door behind him. "Cordelia, this is important, I really need to--"
Cordelia turned around to face him. "As I was saying before the blabbermouth interrupted me -- she's already here." She pointed to her kitchen table, where Aurora was sitting on a chair, having the breakfast Dennis was whipping up. Across from her was an alert but still visibly fatigued Wesley.
Aurora had been the first to arrive, around two hours ago, visibly shaken and for the first time Cordelia thought she actually looked a little afraid. She had gotten a threatening message in the mail, and because she had made that little agreement with herself never to contact Angel again, she went straight for Cordelia's.
What Cordelia hadn't told Angel (yet), was how close she actually had been with Aurora since they'd first met almost four weeks ago. Lunch several times, long nights just talking about stuff -- girlie stuff. Much as she loved Angel and Wesley, it just felt good to be talking to a girl again. Sometimes she'd itch to just be bitchy and talk about spas and waxing, but somehow she knew that wouldn't go over well with the 200-year-old vampire and the British guy.
It also helped that the nature of Aurora's work -- watching Angel from a distance, protecting him from his despair and intervening in case he wished to end it all -- and that she had been doing it for eight years now. She was in a strange and special position. Cordy could talk to her about people from high school and she'd know what to say. It was weird, for a while, but Cordelia got used to it, and soon it was almost like Aurora had been in Sunnydale High with her. Which was almost the truth.
And she also knew Doyle. Both of them being instruments of the Powers and all.
It was a strange comfort, hearing stories about Doyle. The Doyle she never knew as much as she could have.
She didn't tell Angel all of this because once he found out about Aurora and what she was doing, well, he didn't like it. Aurora had put herself in considerable danger because of her calling, and in his usual self-deprecating way he insisted that she stop it because he wasn't worth it. And this was his I-told-you-so moment, now that Aurora truly was in danger.
He saw her, having the scrambled eggs Dennis made, a little calmer now, her eyes less steely. He rushed to her, kneeling beside her chair, his eyes leveling with hers. "Aurora."
And then Cordelia saw it -- Aurora visibly shrinked away from Angel. It's not like they were best friends now, but the body language was definitely off.
Cordelia took her seat and nudged Wesley. "Eggs. Have some. Don't insult the ghost roommate."
"Oh. Of course. Thank you, Dennis." Poor guy, he was still definitely out of it. She had called him over almost the moment Aurora arrived, and it was like he was seven miles from consciousness when he picked up the phone. He had just been working on that silly scroll all day and all night for weeks...
"So you know," Angel said, holding both Aurora's hands now.
She nodded toward the table, where the incriminating photograph lay. "I got it a few hours ago. How did you know?"
"I got my own personal copy delivered. Lindsey McDonald took the picture, Aurora."
Cordelia remembered that night at the bar. She had brought Angel there. "But I didn't see him there, Angel. The Peeping Tom."
"Well, I'm sure he's very acquainted with the ways of the sneaky," Wesley said, to muffle a yawn. "Aurora should probably stay with one of us, Angel. Jenny Calendar's family could find out about her any time now."
"She should stay with me," Angel said. "Because they already now."
The steel exterior wavered a little. "How do you know that?" Aurora exclaimed.
"Lindsey said only five copies of the photograph exist, and they're with their rightful owners already."
Wesley held up a hand. "Aurora's family, Jenny Calendar's family, Aurora, Angel. Who's the fifth?"
"Wouldn't Lindsey want a copy of his own masterpiece framed and hung somewhere?" Cordelia suggested.
Angel gave her a look, *shot* her one, and that was never good too. "Probably for insurance. What matters is they know and you have to tell me what happens next, Aurora. Has anyone contacted you already about this?"
"No, but it's only a matter of time."
Angel gripped her hands with emphasis now, and Cordelia caught the hint of a shiver, and it wasn't because of popsicle vamp hands.
"My... my family will be contacting me soon. If they have the picture, they're probably looking for me right now." She was addressing all three of them, noticeably uneasy with Angel being so close. "I expect that a spell will be performed on me, one that will officially remove me as Angel's protector, hence disable all the powers associated with it."
"You won't be able to defend yourself," Wesley realized.
"How are they going to protect you?" Angel asked.
"They won't. If I stay with them, when I'm found everyone else is found. They have to sever all ties with me."
"Never to see your family again?" Wesley was surprised.
She nodded.
"You're assuming the Kalderash *will* find you."
"Oh they will." She was making a statement, and was only slightly distressed by it. "They know who to look for now. And they've always eventually found your protectors, Angel. Always. It's just a matter of time."
"How old were you when you started this?"
She smiled, almost wistfully. "Sixteen."
If it was possible Angel gripped her hands even tighter, almost angrily. "You knew this would happen to you."
"Yes."
"You knew you would eventually die protecting me and you, at age sixteen, agreed to do it?"
She winced; he was starting to hurt her hands. "I didn't agree to this, Angel, this is what I was born to do."
"You always have a choice, Aurora. This is crazy, what you're doing. I don't need it."
"Don't say that," she retorted, but quietly, almost pleadingly.
"Hey, hey," Cordelia interrupted. "Angel, please."
He reluctantly let go of her hands. "I'm sorry, I..." His tone softened, and he could see how she was distancing herself now. "How long until they perform this spell on you? The one to remove your powers."
She shrugged. "I don't know. I'm not even sure if they've already done it. If my presence is required at all."
"We should test it then." Wesley suggested, right before helping himself to some eggs. "Theoretically, you're safe from harm as long as you have them."
"OK," Aurora let out her breath, looking around the room. "Um, oK, someone attack me."
"What?" Cordelia exclaimed.
"Someone attack me. Powers come on only if I'm in mortal danger."
Cordelia shook her head and pointed to Angel. "Go ahead, boss."
"But I can't intend to hurt you, Aurora." Angel tried to decline.
"Intent doesn't matter. As long as you put my life in serious jeopardy--"
Suddenly Aurora's arm shot straight up, in a split second catching by the handle a knife that was going to pierce her throat. It was too fast even for Angel, who had tried to make a grab for it but missed by a moment.
Or at least, that's what Cordelia thought happened. It was all a blur, going on much too fast for her.
And then, just as quickly as it happened it was over, and they were left staring at the knife in Aurora's hand.
Cordelia let out the breath she didn't even realize she was holding. "Wow. Powerpuff Girl you still are then. Thank you for settling all that, Dennis."
A pan with freshly cooked eggs flew right in front of them in acknowledgment.
Angel was livid, of course. "Dennis, you could have seriously hurt Aurora..."
Cordelia snorted. "Oh, don't blame the dead guy." Who seemed to sincerely like Aurora. He was cooking eggs and everything. The first time he saw her he even made little margaritas. As if her ghost roommate would be getting lucky in *this* lifetime.
"It's fine, really. Thank you, Dennis." Aurora set down the knife on the table and sighed. "And I'm not going to be stubborn now, Angel. If you think I'm safer at the Hyperion I'll stay there with you. I just... I just really need to get some sleep. I think Wesley does too."
"Oh, no, I'm totally fine," Wesley was quick to correct her, raising his fork in emphasis, only succeeding in knocking over his coffee cup. "I guess I do need some...rest. Just a little."