Chapter 5: Discovery with Angel and Cordelia
Angel watched Dawn and Kate talk for a moment in the lobby before Kate left. He glanced back down at the desk, where the drawing he'd done of Dawn rested. After he'd put her in bed, he'd filled in the background for the picture, but something was definitely missing. He picked the drawing up, eyeing it critically and reaching for his pencil.
Then his hand stopped. He opened a drawer and picked up a kit filled with colored pencils. Selecting a flesh-colored one, he began to add color to the picture, starting with Dawn's face. He grew so absorbed in his task it took him by surprise when Dawn entered the office, asking, "What are you doing?"
"Working on your portrait. Want to see?"
Dawn hopped up on the desk beside him and took a look. "Can you change it so I'm not wearing my pajamas?" she asked.
He chuckled. "That's a little hard at this point. Besides, I kind of like the composition. The office around you will all be in dark colors, and you'll be in the middle of it in those white pajamas. It'll draw the eye to you. You see . . ." He cut himself off, seeing the amusement in Dawn's face. "Okay, so I get enthusiastic about art."
"It's okay. You're only human."
Angel chuckled at that and continued coloring. As he did so, he felt a little warm weight settle against his shoulder. It was Dawn, resting her cheek against him. He decided he loved the feeling. She smelled good, of warm earth and sunlight, Cordelia's makeup set, strawberry shampoo—and that cardigan she was wearing was her mother's. He recognized Joyce's perfume.
"How are you doing, Dawn?"
There was a long pause before she answered, "Not great. Better than I was, but not great."
"I can believe that."
"Kate said I shouldn't tell anybody I was okay until I really was. Sometimes it just saves time, though, y'know?"
"Sometimes," he agreed. "But with people who know you and care about you, you're better off being honest about not being okay. It's good you know that now, because it can turn you into a real wreck if you have to figure it out later. Kate and I both made that mistake."
A soft sigh. "I was going to ask if it got easier after the first two centuries."
Angel set down his pencil long enough to affectionately rub a thumb across her warm cheek. "It's not great—but I'm better than I was."
***
From outside the office, Cordelia watched with a soft pang in her heart. The tenderness of the scene inside reminded her all too vividly of good memories: talking quietly with Angel, leaning on him when she grew sleepy or just needed affection, simply being with the man who had become her first friend—her first real friend.
That was what had hurt so much. When Angel had brushed them all aside to go on his vendetta, she'd lost the first person she'd ever felt love from. Wesley and even Gunn, in his way, loved her now, and Doyle had loved her first, but it wasn't until she and Angel had bonded in the wake of losing Doyle that she'd first truly understood what it was to be loved. And not in a "romantic," hormonal way, though she thought Xander might have loved her in some teenage-boy fashion. Someone had loved her in the way of a dear and true friend, and she'd loved him in return, and that someone had been Angel.
Now she was afraid they wouldn't be able to recapture that. She was afraid of not being able to open her heart to him again . . . and she wanted to.
"Cordelia?" It was Wesley. "What are . . ." He trailed off when he saw the scene taking place in the office. Angel was comparing two brown pencils to Dawn's hair, and she was laughing. As the vampire started coloring again, the girl laid her cheek back against his shoulder.
Cordelia sighed. "Once in a while, just once in a while, I remember why we're giving him a second chance."
"Yes." Wesley seemed genuinely affected, too. "That does remind one. That, of course, and him bribing you with a new wardrobe."
Cordelia rolled her eyes to the heavens as a familiar round of bickering beckoned. "Okay, that would be Snarky British Guy comment number 316 re: the Angel Collection. I swear, Wesley, you can be such a bitch sometimes."
"At least I'm not a clothes whore."
"And again with the bitchy, No-Butt."
"Fashionista."
"Fashion victim."
Wesley looked at his watch. "I'd continue this, but I've errands to run."
"Same time tomorrow?"
"I'll be ready."
Cordelia watched him go with a grin. Wesley really had been irritated with her for practically jumping all over Angel after he'd given her the clothes, but she suspected he was simply milking the situation in order to have something to irritate her with. Which was okay, seeing as her day planner had "Annoy Wesley" written on every page. What were friends for, if not to drive each other crazy?
She looked back at Angel and Dawn and made another decision. She walked to the door of the office. "Hey, you two. What's up?"
"Angel's doing a picture of me," announced Dawn happily.
Angel looked at Cordelia, a slight apprehension in his eyes, as if he was afraid of doing something without getting clearance for it first. She felt a knot clutch in her stomach. Why couldn't things be simple again?
The Seer walked further into the office, casually surveying the drawing. "It's beautiful. Couldn't you do something about the pajamas, though?"
Angel actually laughed. "Kathy asked the same thing."
Cordelia froze.
"Who's Kathy?" asked Dawn innocently.
Angel froze. His eyes met Cordelia's, and for a moment, she understood perfectly what he was feeling and thinking. Kathy, his little sister, whom he had loved as a human and killed as a vampire, had been one of his confidences to Cordelia during the previous summer.
Of course Dawn would remind him of her, thought the Seer. She returned his gaze, allowing sympathy to flow into her own eyes.
Dawn looked between them, confused. "What's wrong?"
"I . . ." Angel looked at her, at a loss. "I had a little sister once, too. That was her name, Kathy. I guess you just remind me of her."
"Really?" Dawn's interest had been piqued. "What was she like?"
Cordelia watched as Angel tried to gather words. This had to be painful for him, but she didn't see how she could intervene.
"She was like you. Sweet, smart, imaginative, always wanting to be a part of things. Her hair was darker than yours, and her eyes were my color, but her face was a bit like yours—expressive, wide-open, and very pretty."
"Did you two get along?"
Angel smiled sadly. "While I was human, there was nothing in the world I loved better."
Cordelia really hoped the next question wouldn't be what she thought it was.
Dawn was looking Angel in the face. "You still remember her."
Another sad smile. "There's no way I could ever forget."
And that seemed to satisfy Dawn, for she relaxed against Angel once more. Angel looked back up at Cordelia, who smiled gently. For a moment, just a moment, that lost connection was back.
Then the phone rang. Angel automatically picked it up. "Angel Investigations . . . hi, Buffy. Everything's fine. No, no demons, just a Razoth Beast this morning, and it's been taken care of . . . no, not inside the hotel, in the sewers. Yes, she's here." He put his hand over the receiver. "Want to talk to your sister?"
Dawn had instantly gone back into her sulk at the mention of her sister's name. Cordelia covered a grin. This kid was good!
Reluctantly, the teen accepted the phone. "Hi." Huge, long-suffering sigh. "I'm fine. I finished my homework." Deeper mope. "No, I'll be fine. Go ahead and slay. 'Bye." She handed the phone back to Angel, who was maintaining his straight face through sheer force of will.
"Buffy? Yeah, I got that. Don't worry about us, we'll be fine. Okay, we'll see you then." He sobered for real. "Good luck, Buffy. Take care of yourself." He set down the phone and turned to Dawn. "Buffy suggests I give you a noogie."
Dawn bolted from the desk, squealing, and hid behind Cordelia. "Don't let him!"
"Of course I won't. Angel, you know she was only maintaining her standing in the Little Sisters' Guild of America. Am I right, Dawn?"
"I've gotta make it hard for her," protested Dawn. "It's in my contract."
One moment, Angel was laughing. The next, all expression had washed from his face, and he'd risen from the desk. It was scary-as-Hell vampire time.
"What is it?" asked Cordelia.
"Cordelia, you and Dawn stay in here and block the door. Something's here."
The note of command in his voice was so absolute that Cordelia and Dawn were moving into the office almost before he finished talking. Angel walked out past them, shutting the door, and they began to move the desk in front of it.
"What's happening?" asked Dawn, her voice small and frightened.
"It's okay, Dawn. Angel will take care of it." Suddenly, there was movement outside the office. Cordelia watched as Angel, axe in hand, took on a Kaliff demon. There were several of them in the lobby now, all of them attacking. There was also another kind of demon, this one smaller and scabbier than the others, and wearing a monk's robe. The Seer turned and put one arm around Dawn, forcing the girl to sit down on the floor with her. The sounds of battle continued from outside.
A new sound suddenly entered: the low, frightening snarl of a vampire.
"And the fangs come out," breathed Cordelia. "These guys have made Angel mad. Bad for them."
Sure enough, the sounds of the fight abruptly ceased a few seconds later. There was a hard thump, and then Cordelia heard Angel's voice. Cautiously, she stood. Dawn was already struggling to move the desk.
As they exited the office, they caught sight of Angel on the far side of the lobby, holding the demon in the monk's robe against the wall with one hand. Angel's face was mostly away from them, but Cordelia knew instinctively he was vamped out. The rest of the demons—about five total—lay strewn about the lobby, unconscious or dead.
"Come on," she said to Dawn, but the girl wasn't moving. She was listening to the "conversation" Angel was having with the demon.
"I said, my name's Angelus. What's yours?" This was followed by another thump as Angel bashed the thing's head on the wall.
The thing apparently had had enough. "I am called Nil, a name not worthy of being spoken in the presence of Her High and Shiny Exaltedness. I am but a humble supplicant of the Grand and Pulchritudinous One, the . . ."
"You're an obsequious little toady of Glory's," Angel interrupted.
The demon positively beamed. "The Eminent Angelus is too kind."
"What does she want? Why are you here?"
"She Who Embodies Perfection entrusted this unworthy servant only with the information necessary to complete his mission. I cannot say . . ."
The next thump knocked a piece of the drywall out. "You'll say, or you'll bleed."
"Well put, O Forceful One. The Magnificent Glorificus wished to know: Why did the Slayer go to the City of Angels? I was graced with the task of learning this, and given authority over Her" (and he spoke it with a capital "H") "forces in this city. There is also a Razoth Beast approaching, even now."
"Killed it this morning," Angel growled. "You can tell Glory she was too late."
Just then, Nil's eyes flickered to Dawn and Cordelia. "A body might wonder what the Slayer's sister is doing in the lair of the Formidable Angelus." He gave an "eep" as Angel's hand tightened around his throat. "Perhaps he is but saving her for dinner."
"A body won't wonder long." The quietly-spoken words sent chills down Cordelia's spine. "Cordelia, take Dawn upstairs. Now."
Cordelia took Dawn's shoulders and steered her toward the staircase. The girl didn't resist as Cordelia ushered her up the stairs and to their room. Once there, Dawn went to the sofa and sat, spine stick-straight. Cordelia sat beside her, concerned.
"Angel's going to kill him, isn't he?" the girl asked in a flat voice after a moment.
Cordelia took a deep breath. "Yes. If that demon gets back to Glory with the information you're here, she might figure out you're the Key."
"This is my fault." Dawn swallowed, shaking. "Buffy keeps getting hurt because of me. All the Scoobies keep getting hurt. Angel and Gunn got hurt. It's all my fault."
"No!" Cordelia forced Dawn to look at her. "Dawn, listen: less than a year ago, someone tried to kill me, and in a really painful way. They did it to get at Angel. But you know what? I never blamed him, because it wasn't his choice. He didn't make them do what they did. All he did was protect me and care for me. The people who tried to kill me were the ones at fault for everything that happened. Buffy and the Slayerettes are protecting you because they love you. Glory's the one to blame for them getting hurt. Don't forget that."
Dawn nodded, but Cordelia wasn't sure she'd penetrated. "My head itches."
"Let's get those hairpins out, then." Cordelia went and fetched a brush, then seated Dawn on the floor between her knees. One by one, she removed the pins holding Dawn's French roll. Then she began to brush the younger girl's hair. Dawn relaxed as she did so, leaning against the Seer's legs. Cordelia kept brushing until there was a knock at the door.
Angel opened it a moment later but didn't enter, leaning instead on the doorframe. Cordelia could see the light of battle slowly dying in his eyes.
"It's over," he said heavily. "I took care of everything. Wesley and Gunn are headed over, and Kate's already here. Dawn, I called Sunnydale. Buffy said she's afraid taking you home now would just be a frying-pan-into-the-fire scenario—things are really heating up there—so I told her we'd take care of you tonight, and she'll come and get you just as soon as she can tomorrow. Cordelia, we're holding a war council downstairs just as soon as everyone's here." He breathed deeply. "Are you two okay?"
Dawn said nothing. "We're okay," Cordelia assured him. "I'll be down soon."
"All right." Angel turned to leave.
"Are you okay?"
The question was from Dawn. Angel turned back and looked at her.
"Did you get hurt?" she asked.
"No." Angel smiled. "No, I'm fine. Thanks for asking, Dawn."
He left, and Cordelia brushed Dawn's hair for another few minutes. "Listen, I'm going to have to go down and talk shop with the gang, but I won't be gone long. Why don't you . . ."
"I'm going with you," Dawn interrupted.
"Look, Dawn, it'll just be a lot of boring . . ."
"I'm going with you." The girl's tone was firm. "I'm sick of people making decisions about me without even checking to see if it's okay with me. If you guys are going to talk about me, I want to be there."
Not even Queen C could stand up to that. "Okay. We'll go down together."