A/N: Unforeseen circumstances necessitated its deletion in early Nov. As circumstances seem to have resolved themselves, original 2-3 (from Oct.) have been reposted now, combined for continuity and reworked a little (mostly the same otherwise). Chickened out from posting as a T b/c of suggestive themes, and it probably would've confused my readers, anyway. So, it's rated M once again.
Apologies to Joss Whedon, David Greenwalt, and Fox/ W/B. I know these characters, etc. are not mine, and I expect nothing from their use.
"What Have You Done?"
Cordelia sighed as she finished up yet another case file. "And closed. Just six more and I'll be on my way. Ugh. "
It was late. She sent Wesley home half-an-hour ago, and now she was alone in the office. He had protested, of course, but she ordered him to go home. He was better off taking it easy. That gut crater made him gimpy, anyway, which was making her process take about ten times longer than it normally would.
She told Gunn to take Wesley home. She had pulled him aside to express her concern that Wesley was having more trouble than he was letting on, and she made Gunn promise to stay with him for a couple of hours to make sure everything was OK. This ended in a definite win-win for everyone involved: Wesley got some rest, Gunn got out of filing, and Cordelia got two guys out of her hair.
And who really wants to argue with Cordelia Chase, anyway?
Now that she had just six more case files to finish up for the evening – four of which just needed to be put away, she didn't feel quite so overwhelmed. Or unfocused. Or hopeless. Besides, it was also good to help take her mind off Angel.
God! There she went again as her thoughts drifted (albeit against her will) toward her former boss. He turned his back on his duty – on his friends (she still couldn't believe he fired them). And then showing up at the hospital out of the blue? Thoughts of that evening swirled deliriously in her mind, exasperating her as she slapped the folder and its contents on the desk. What was that about, anyway? Did he really think a late night drop-in was enough? Wesley probably wouldn't have taken that bullet in the first place if Angel hadn't thrown his hissy fit and abandoned them for his own sick obsessions!
Cordelia lowered her forehead to her hands and sighed heavily. But he was her friend. She'd really like to ash him right now, but he was her friend – and more than that, if she let herself venture into that territory. Always had been there for her no matter what stupid situation she got herself into. Always found some way to rescue her. And what did she do when he asked for a lifeline?
She felt a little sick (but only a little, because he totally deserved it) when she remembered the resentful words she spoke to him outside Wesley's hospital room. She wondered if Angel would ever forgive her for that . . . or if she could forgive herself. She felt tears prick at her eyes. "Why, Angel?" she breathed. "How can giving up everything gain you anything?"
She stretched her arms and tilted her head from side to side, trying to loosen her neck. Cordelia wasn't going to think about that right now. She had work to do. Lives depended on her. At least she hadn't lost sight of what was important. And part of that was collecting the correct fees for their services. Hey, they had to keep roofs over their heads . . . and Jimmy's on her feet! "All right, Scarlett," she said to herself as she opened the next folder and scanned the description, "what do we have left?" She saw a blank next to "demon description."
"Great," she grumbled to the empty room. "Thanks, Wesley. Y'know, not all of us are Super-Demon-Encyclopedia Browns. Just 'cause you and your Stephen Hawkingness knows about every demon in Dickens detail doesn't mean we all do. I don't know how to charge for something I don't know anything about."
Muttering to herself about inconsiderate invalids, she walked to the wooden bookshelf on the far wall and began scanning titles when she heard the front door slam open behind her. Cordelia turned and immediately froze. Angel quickly strode toward her, a determined look plastered on his blank face.
Shocked, she spit out, "What are you doing here?"
Angel wouldn't look at her, and she thought he was going to ignore her question completely (which promptly incensed Cordelia). But, instead, he abruptly responded, "You took all the books." He pushed her aside and selected a book – her book – off of a shelf.
This action (and her growing fury) dragged Cordelia out of her stupor.
She grabbed the book out of Angel's hands: "I'm – I'm reading this one." She hastily moved between the bookshelf and his large body and threw the book back on the shelf. She said cattily, "Here. You take this one," as she shoved another one into his hands.
Angel flung it to the floor. He stared at Cordelia through angry, empty eyes.
"Don't make me move you," he said calmly . . . quietly . . . dangerously.
Cordelia's breath caught in her throat. She looked at him cautiously, taken aback by his threatening tone. For a split second, she was actually afraid of him – of what he might do to her.
"Give me the book, Cordelia," Angel's voice rose in anger. "NOW!" he yelled. She jumped as he shoved the bookcase behind her with a force that cracked a shelf and broke the supports. The entire structure was sent toppling to the side, volumes scattering as they fell to the floor in a jumbled heap.
Livid heat rose in Queen C's body. He forgets what he's supposed to be fighting for – and fires us – NOW he wants to take the book I need to write up a case file? OH, HE'S SO NOT GETTING AWAY WITH THIS. Cordelia's eyes narrowed, her jaw set stubbornly – and she looked up at him defiantly.
"Make me."
Conflicting emotions danced across his face. Surprise – despair – humor – annoyance – anger. He growled deeply.
"Fine," he spoke dismissively, and he shoved her aside. Her body collided with a wall, her face hitting hard enough to crack the plaster. As Cordelia hit the floor, Angel bent over the mound of books, searching.
She groaned as she rolled onto her hands and knees. She tasted blood and realized her lower lip had split from the impact and was now oozing drops of red. At the moment, she was facing away from him, and she was glad. She didn't want him to see her on hands and knees. Shaking, she stood slowly as she wiped the blood away with the back of her hand and said, "I don't even know what you are anymore."
He stated coldly, "I'm a vampire. Look it up."
She watched him in silence as he rifled through the pile of books. Cordelia knew she couldn't let him go without trying to talk some sense into him. Angel was going to do something stupid – she just knew it. She wasn't going to let him blow his chance at his Shanshu if she had to die trying.
"Angel," she started. "You're not just any vampire."
The only sound left in the tiny office was the zip of cloth-covered backings as books were picked up followed by the banging of spines and fluttering of pages as those books were tossed on the hard floor.
She chided him, "You're the big champ for the PTB. Doesn't that mean anything to you? You're the reason why the world doesn't suck as much."
More books banged on the tile floor, their pages ruffled as if protesting the fall.
She grew bolder, "And us. What about us? And me? We need you – I need you, Angel. Let us help you. We can get through this together."
Angel didn't even acknowledge her existence as he reached down for yet another volume. He looked at the cover and then opened it to skim through the pages.
She wiped her mouth again with her hand. She wanted to slap him. "Fine. If not for the world – if not for us – then what about you? Look at what you're doing to yourself." She yelled him, "You're screwing up any chance you have for your Shanshu!"
He snapped the book shut and tucked it under his arm. "I don't deserve it now," he said under his breath, not even looking at her, as he turned to walk out.
Cordelia crossed in front of him, preventing him from leaving.
"The HELL you don't!" she hissed, putting her hands on her hips. "I'm not going to let you do this to the world – to us – to yourself – especially not to yourself! I don't know what the Hell is going on with you, but it ends TONIGHT. Grow up and out of this teenage temper-tantrum, mister!" she poked him hard in the chest.
"Cor-"
"I'm not standing around here-"
"-delia, get out of –"
"- and letting you-"
"-my way."
"- screw up our lives anymore –"
"SHUT UP! JUST SHUT UP! YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND! YOU CAN'T UNDERSTAND!" Angel finally screamed at her violently. He looked at her hatefully.
Cordelia took a step backward at his volatile outburst, and she saw his eyes take in the blood on her lip. What she saw in their dark depths didn't look like hate, though – it looked like anguish and fear. She reached out and touched his shoulder with familiarity. She drew closer, "Then explain it to me."
At once, his face was again empty, seemingly void of all emotion.
"Please, Angel," she said, her brow creased with concern, a frown on her beautiful face. Her hazel eyes glowed golden-brown as she implored him, "Please help me understand." For a minute, Cordelia thought he was going to relent. Hope swelled in her belly as she saw that cement block wall starting to crumble.
But as quickly as the moment was there, it disappeared, replaced by something she didn't understand – fear mixed with passion and confusion – frustration and anger . . . he dropped the book, grabbed her arms, pulled her close.
So close she could smell the blood on his breath.
"You really want to understand?" he asked quietly, menacingly. "Is that what you want, Cordelia?" He shook her and pulled her even more closely to his body. Cordelia could feel the tension between them as she felt his cold, lifeless body radiate heat into her. He lowered his head toward her ear and breathed, "I could make you understand."
She bit her lower lip and gently pushed him back to look in his dark, predatory eyes. She hesitated, but her voice was clear and strong: "Then do it. Please. Let me help you."
Angel's face didn't stay angelic for long. He gripped her arms tightly as he put on his game face. "OK, baby. How 'bout that makin' you understand?"
Cordelia's eyes widened, and she struggled against his tight grip.
"Y'see, I figure the only way you can understand is if you're just like me. Course, I have to do a little work to make you like me . . . and then there's the slight problem of you losing your soul . . . but if we have a little fun just before," he backed her into a wall and pushed his body into her, his hands still clenching her arms. He brought mouth close, and she could feel his lips move on hers while he whispered, "we'll both be soulless – and neither of us will care anymore."
Terrified, Cordelia screamed, "Get off me, GET OFF ME!" and helplessly pushed against him, her heart pounding.
Angel let her go, and his visage shifted as he bent down to retrieve the book. "Didn't think so," he said with finality. He then eyed her, almost thoughtfully. "You were a lot more fun when you were just a self-centered bitch. You're still a self-centered bitch, but now, you're self-righteous."
His hurtful words stabbed into her gut.
He smiled at her suggestively, his eyes roaming over her body, "Dredge up just a little more of your old self and you would make a fantastic vampire." He winked at her sarcastically.
She looked at him in disgust, but she still maintained control. "Go. You have the book. You got what you wanted," Cordelia spat at him.
Angel's eyes flashed.
"Just LEAVE. And don't ever come back," she managed to hold on to her anger without the quiver creeping into her voice.
His face returned to its blank, determined state as he strode out the door. He said over his shoulder, "Finally. All I wanted in the first place."
Cordelia ran to the door and locked it, heart beating so fast it hurt her chest to breathe. She leaned back on the door and slid down to the floor, hugging her knees against her body. "Stop it. STOP IT," she said to herself. But she still couldn't prevent two big tears from streaming down her face, followed by two more. And then two more. She didn't know how long she sat there, the brief incident playing over and over in her mind.
"OK. OK. Got to finish those files. Got to do something to get my mind off of –" and she stood up. She found the coffee pot, coffee, filters. Started the brew. Looked at the time. Dennis was going to be upset with her. Especially because she wasn't going to tell him about why she was late this evening - now morning. She wasn't going to tell anybody. Ever. It was just too much.
She didn't see the dark figure who waited in the shadows outside as she locked up the office an hour later. Didn't see him watch her walk up the block to her jeep. Didn't see him follow her home and watch her climb the steps to her apartment. After a while, the figure turned all of his attention to the book she had ripped from his hands not quite an hour before.
Or at least he tried to.