Pretty Postcards From Hell 7

~7~

"Well, doctor, do you think he'll live?" Lilah looked expectantly at the man who'd been sent when she called her office for help.

"Depends on your definition of the word," he answered coldly. "Will he walk, talk, breathe and eat? Most likely. Will he ever be a productive member of society again? I doubt it." The physician didn't know exactly what the Law Firm that kept him on retainer really did, but he knew he saw more dead or nearly dead people on their calls than any other place in his practice. "Whoever worked him over did a great job. I'd say he's lucky to have survived, but the condition he's in, I don't think luck is a factor, unless it's bad." He turned for a moment, scribbling. "These pills will help with the psychotic episodes. You'll probably need a psychiatric nurse full time." He headed out the door. "I'll bill the office, as always."

Lilah turned to Rebecca Rogers, the British nurse. "I guess you can take him back to England if you want."

"Just why did you call the doctor, Miss Morgan?"

"He was beaten within an inch of his life! It was the only decent, human, right thing…" Lilah's words died off as she realized just what this girl had seen in the past few days. "I guess that's a legitimate question," she conceded. Studying her nails, the attorney realized she'd probably never see this girl again, and could be brutally honest with her. She looked up, answering, "Guilt. We did something unthinkable, and he paid the price. It was the least I could do."

"Don't you think letting him die wouldn't have been more humane?"

The words for that resignation letter began running through Lilah's head again. "I don't know what humane looks like any more, Rebecca."

~**~

"We can't believe your vampire honey lets you go outside without someone watching over you. Such a sweet little temptation – seeing you out here all alone."

Running was useless – he was faster than the wind, and it was his house, so he could, and would, get in, even if she beat him to the door. Screaming was probably not terribly effective as a defense tactic, either. He still had those damned knives. And now he had her arm. "Owww!"

"Sorry Princess." His smile said he was anything but.

"Don't you *dare* call me that." In spite of herself, tears came to her eyes, and they were for the way he desecrated the memory of Doyle, not the pain Dark was causing with his fingers in her soft flesh. Although when he tightened his grip, the tears flowed a bit faster.

"We'll call you whatever we please," he snarled.

Anger battled with the desire for self-preservation, and saving her own skin lost. "Fuck off."

He seemed to *like* that. "Ahh, spirit. That's what we were looking for." His free hand danced across her breasts again. "Although these are nice, too." Suddenly his face contorted, and she was sure, had the internal struggle lasted just a few seconds longer, she could have pulled free. Unfortunately, by the time she came to this realization the moment had passed.

He seemed angry again, even more angry than before, and she wasn't sure why. But the hand at her breast clenched and pulled. Instead of ripping down the front, her shirt separated at the shoulder seam, and her sleeve hung awkwardly at her arm. The motion had pulled the fabric hard against the back of her neck, and the area beneath the neckline burned. Dark seemed further riled by his failure to expose Cordelia's flesh, and threw her down onto her back in the grass. Cordy's head hit hard, and she wondered how many new and varied pains she'd experience before he just out and killed her. His weight on her abdomen pushed the breath that remained from her lungs.

Suddenly, he winced again, and Dark's face was really Xander's for a moment, not some perverted imitation, and he was upset and panicked. After the last time, she closed her eyes and steeled herself, expecting him to come back angrier, yet again. The weight lifted from her body, and she opened her eyes to see Angel and Dark, the vampire holding the entity from behind by the neck, in full demon face. Then the air around them seemed to shimmer, and Angel was holding nothing at all. Cordy pushed up onto her elbows and looked around.

The only figure she saw appear was Xander's, and at first she winced, thinking it was Dark back to finish what he'd started with her. But the clothing was different, and the handsome face wore a confused expression. He was dressed in camos, not the black BDU's Dark had worn, and he was squatting down when he appeared, falling on his butt gracelessly when he completely materialized. He got up on his hands and knees, and when he lifted his head, he looked right into Cordelia's eyes. His eyes were the chocolate brown she'd known and loved in high school, and she let go the breath she hadn't realized she was holding. Xander, however, ran his eyes over Cordy's figure, saw the bruise on her arm, the torn shirt and the tear tracks on her cheeks, and his face went ashen. He jumped to his feet, disappearing into the shrubbery on the property's edge. The sound of vomiting could be heard from that direction.

"They're back. The spell's worn off," Cordy said to no one in particular.

Cordelia struggled to stand, Angel hurrying to her to help her up. "Oh, God," she heard from behind her, turning to see a distraught Slayer looking in the direction Xander had run. The tear dimmed hazel eyes turned upon Cordelia, and she repeated, "Oh, *God*." Speechless for a moment, Buffy then spilled out, "Cordelia, I'm so sorry. We never, I mean, he wouldn't, oh, oh, God." Buffy burst into tears, as Willow and Giles came up behind her in support, both looking equally guilty. The Slayer pulled away, and gestured toward the bushes. "He needs…"

Cordy put her hand on the blonde's arm. "I think I should go to him right now, Buffy. He needs to know I don't blame him."

"You don't? Why?" Xander's sense of despair sounded from his bond-mate's voice.

The May Queen smiled sadly. "I need to explain it to him, first. You can listen in, you know." She walked slowly towards him, not wanting to scare the already broken man that had once been her boyfriend. At the edge of the shrubs, she paused. "Xander?"

"Go away, Cordelia. I can't face you." His voice was raw and scratchy, thick with pain.

"Xander, I need to see *you,*" she explained. When he didn't respond, she took it as assent, and walked back to the clearing where he was sitting cross-legged, his head buried in his hands. "Look at me," she demanded. He shook his head. "Look at me," she said more insistently. Finally she knelt in front of him, and pulled his chin up so his eyes met hers. "Look at me," she repeated more gently, when he tried to turn at least his eyes. "Do I look like I blame you?"

"You should," he said bitterly. "After all these years, I found another way to hurt you. Damnit, Cordelia, I almost raped you."

"Xander," she said in that same soft voice, "It wasn't you. That thing looked like you, kind of, but it wasn't you."

He was still trying to look away. "It was me. It was my anger. It was my BODY. I was in control – Wills and Giles and Buffy were just along for the ride. I may have killed a man, Cor. You weren't the only woman I attacked. I'm a monster!"

"If you are, then we all are," Willow said sadly from behind Cordelia. Cordy stood up and turned to look at her. They seemed to have drawn a crowd, as the whole gang had come outside by this point. "We were all there, and all participated."

"I was the one who wanted Quentin Travers dead," Rupert said, his voice strained with discomfort like Xander's.

Andrea's head snapped up. She knew this smelled of the Council.

"And I was responsible for Cordy being our main target," Buffy said remorsefully.

"What about that other woman? Lilah, was it? I did that. I did most of it – all of it."

"Lilah Morgan?" Angel asked, but no one heard. *So it was them,* the vampire decided.

Andrea stepped in. "The point is, none of you were yourselves. Your water was tainted, and the results would have made a pet poodle into a snarling attack animal. And you fought it – in spite of Dark's desire to hunt and hurt us all, we're all still alive and well. Right?" she asked, looking Cordelia in the eye.

"Right," Cordy agreed, smiling without artifice. A few bruises would heal – she wasn't sure Xander's soul would, unless he knew without a doubt she held him blameless.

Andrea pressed on. "I want to spend some time with each of you – I'm not a psychiatrist, but I do know enough to help you deal with some of the issues this has brought up – issues that should have been dealt with before the original Unity was ever formed. I'm ashamed I let it go so long," she finished softly.

"So," Cordy said, a bit too brightly, "We all have our guilt stuff going. Well, except me, of course." She looked at Angel. "We all know your deal. He wanted to be like Angelus. Whoopee. So has every baddie to hit Sunny-D since the beginning of time, practically. If the name weren't Angelus, we'd just fill in the blank, and he'd model his hurting people desires on someone else. Bad guys hurt people – it's what they do. Dark would have done the same thing, with or without your former performance."

She turned to the doctor. "You should have helped them deal with their dark thoughts. You were busy trying to keep Willow from getting killed, then you were in London, then you had a practice to set up so you could eat, and other little things like that. You can't save the world by yourself. Help them now, don't beat yourself up over 'should have's.'"

She looked at Buffy and Xander, holding each other like lifelines, Willow and Giles right beside them. "You guys. How many people have to tell you it wasn't you before you hear us? Or that whatever *was* you was warped so out of proportion, you weren't recognizable? Every one of you has dealt with an evil alter ego before, haven't you? Okay, Buffy, yours was named Faith, but otherwise… I remember the thing where the vamp Willow was here. And 'Ripper.' Willow told me a little about Xander and some hyenas. Whatever, you guys did some bad stuff, or something wearing your face did, and you got over it. This is the Hellmouth, gang. Bad stuff happens, sometimes to good people." She stood, hands on her hips, and glared for a moment, then grew self-conscious. "Speech over," she announced, a bit subdued, and she marched away.

"Who took Cordelia and left this wise woman in her place?" Buffy joked feebly, and got a half-hearted smile from her lover in return. The folks on the periphery began to shuffle and murmur, breaking apart to gather their resources and go back home, now the crisis was over. Giles saw Wesley in the outskirts, and moved towards him, calling his name.

"I owe you an apology," he said when he got close enough.

Wes shook his head. "I was rather ugly to you myself," he insisted. "The water."

Giles smiled a bit. "Perhaps we can work together to formulate a spell that would counteract such a possession, should it be tried again. With our combined libraries and resources, we could figure something out. I've rather missed working with you."

The younger man's eyes lit up. "You have?" His shoulders straightened a bit. "If we're successful, they could call it the 'Giles-Wyndham-Price Counter Spell.' We'd go down in the Watcher annals."

Rupert turned and walked with Wesley towards the house. "Indeed we would."

Andrea saw Willow standing by herself, looking proudly after her lover. She almost turned away, but remembered her vow to help them now, since she hadn't before. "Hey," she greeted the redheaded witch. "How are you?"

"Shaken," the girl admitted. "All that stuff Dark did? I was enjoying a lot of it. Nobody thinks I ever want to be bad, but it was almost – freeing. And I never tried to stop any of it." She looked down, ashamed. "I shouldn't have said that stuff to you, though. I really don't blame you."

"Maybe you should," Andrea prodded. "I was a sheep. I let them tell me what to do, and up till the very end, I did it, without protest." She caught and held Willow's eye. "I never tried to stop any of it," she quoted directly.

"But I don't blame…" Willow stopped, understanding dancing in her eyes. "Oooh, that was tricky! If I say 'I don't blame you,' you're gonna say I shouldn't blame *me* either." A spark of humor flickered across her face. "You're good. You're very, very good."

Andrea smiled, and then her expression grew serious. "From now on, I promise to be better."

~**~

Xander sat by the pool with his legs dangling in the water, an old pair of faded khaki's rolled up above his knees. The camo outfit was in the trashcan by the curb, awaiting Monday morning's pickup. It was dusk, and the heat of the day still lay thick near the ground, although he could feel it would be a cool night. He could hear the muted sounds of dinner and conversation inside, but he just couldn't eat quite yet, so he'd excused himself. The inside sounds grew louder for a moment, then faded back as the door from the kitchen closed again. "Hi," Buffy said, almost shyly. "Your thoughts were making it hard for me to entertain our guests."

"Sorry."

"Andrea was saying we should banish that word from our vocabulary for a while so we could stop playing the blame game and get down to real issues. Maybe she's right."

"And maybe I don't want to deal with whatever damned issues she thinks I have when I know the real issue is that there's a killer inside of me, and I let him out," Xander snarled angrily. "Oh, God," he gasped immediately, turning away from her. "See? Dark was just me. Now that I've unleashed my monster temper, I can't contain it. I even just turned on you."

"If anyone ever had a right to be angry at life, Xan, it's you. Remember, I know everything that's in your mind. I know exactly what your childhood was like, I know how much you've been hurt. I know how much hell I myself put you through emotionally in high school and even beyond. That's why I know Andrea could help. You've bottled it all up for so long – you've been the strongest man I know. But that water spell uncorked the bottle, and I think you need help to deal with what got out."

He turned back towards her, and in the dim light spilling from behind the quilts on the living room window into the now dark yard she could see the tear tracks on his face. "I love you," he said simply.

She scooted over closer to him, and he wrapped her in his arms. "I know that, too," she answered.

~**~

There were people all over the dining room and kitchen, but as Cordelia moved through the small throng, she couldn't find Angel among them. Finally, peering about, she saw him in the living room, almost beneath the heavy quilt covering the window, looking out at the pool. When she got right behind him, she could see he was watching the couple seated at the edge of the water, holding onto one another. "Even when I knew I couldn't have her anymore, I never imagined I'd be seeing her so much a part of someone else," Angel said softly, apparently aware of the woman behind him.

"Hurts?" she asked, equally softly.

"Some," he admitted. "In a good way. I do want her to be happy, and I could never make her that."

"You could have, maybe, if it were another place and time when you met. But she was practically a little girl, and you were her great Romantic Fantasy. She's grown up now, and Xander's as real as they come." A sardonic edge tinged her last words.

Angel stepped back into the room, letting the quilt fall. "You loved him once." It might have been a question, Cordy wasn't sure. She decided to answer it.

"He's an easy man to love, just a hard one to keep loving. He's not sure he deserves it, so he shoots every relationship he has full of holes, telling himself he's not to blame, that nobody can love him. I was at fault, too. I never told him how I really felt."

"You've been Insight Girl today. Where'd all of this come from?" Angel chuckled.

Cordy ignored him, finishing her thought. "She's strong enough to hold him together when he falls apart. She's not afraid of her feelings for him. They'll be good together." The May Queen was moving closer to him, and without thinking he opened his arms, resting his hands on her hips. Cordy looked Angel straight in the eye, her hands lightly touching his chest. "The only time a relationship really works is when people are honest with one another about how they feel." Angel half-closed his eyes, sure she was moving in for a kiss. The next thing he knew, his arms were empty. "I still have to work on that," she said sadly, and turned and walked out the door, leaving a confused and slightly uncomfortable vampire standing alone.

~**~

"It's been a week, now, aren't you people ever going home?" Andrea asked the LA contingent jokingly. "Not that I'm one to talk." The doctor had gone back to her regular practice, but had spent every night since Dark had separated sleeping on a sofa bed in one of the basement rooms at Unity's home. Through an unspoken commitment, the four friends had decided to keep an eye on the other four for a while, making sure they didn't descend into depression in the aftermath of the debacle. More seriously, she added, "I think they're gong to be okay."

Giles and Willow had been first to fall back into their regular routine. The magic shop and school had given them distractions, and they were all attending counseling sessions with Andrea at least twice a week. Xander was seeing her more often, by his own choice.

"Talking about us behind our backs, again?" Xander joked as he joined the others in the dining room. The spark of his trademark humor had gradually been relit, and he almost appeared to be himself again to a casual observer. Only Andrea really knew how far he had to go, how many wounds had to be reopened and how much poison still needed be dug out before Xander's psyche could completely heal. Well, Buffy probably knew, too.

"Don't worry," Cordelia assured him airily, "Anything really bad, we'll make sure you hear." Then she softened the taunt with a wide grin, and Xander returned it. She realized they'd never really been just *friends* before, instead of enemies or a couple, and she, for one, was enjoying it.

Angel watched the two of them banter with an inward smile. They played some variation of this game almost every day now, and both seemed to revel in it. It was helping to relieve some of the tension that was thick between the pair for the first couple of days after Dark was vanquished. He remembered the discussion he'd had with Xander himself, a few days ago.

"Hey, Deadb… Angel." The vampire looked up from his book to see Xander standing nervously in the doorway.

"You can come in," Angel told him, "it's your den, after all." He stuck a piece of paper in the novel and set it down on the table. "What's up?"

Xander shifted uncomfortably from side to side, finally picking up the novel and glancing at the title. "Anne Rice?" he said with surprise.

"I find it amusing, actually. Although she has a great imagination, she should have done some research first. Way off. I found it on your bookshelves here."

"I think Buffy got a laugh out of it, too." Xander set the book down and shuffled again, finally seeming to work up his nerve. "I think I owe you an apology." Angel didn't answer, just raised his eyebrow. The young man pressed on. "In high school, I was pretty nasty to you. I still don't think you and Buffy belonged together, but she really did love you – I understand that now, more than you can imagine." Angel figured sharing a mind with someone probably would up your understanding of their issues. "Anyway, I gave you a hard time about the brooding and everything, but I think I get it, now. And, well, I'm sorry." He turned to go, but Angel stopped him with a word.

"Xander." The other man stopped in his tracks, but didn't turn back around.

"Yeah?"

"Don't brood. It doesn't accomplish much, and you miss a lot of life when you do. I finally learned that from Cordy, but it took me a long time. Why don't I let you benefit from my experience?" He was smiling until Xander's next words.

"You love Cordy now, don't you?" At the lack of response, Xander turned, and saw the carefully arranged blank look on Angel's face. "Dark saw it first – or the beginnings of Dark that were in me. You'd be good for each other. Just don't go getting all Angelus with her – I think I put her through enough recently."

"It wasn't you…"

"It was Dark," Xander finished with him. "I know, people keep saying that. Nice way to avoid the question." Xander smiled warmly, the first time Angel ever remembered the Slayerette aiming that expression at him. "Thanks for being here – all of you guys. God alone knows what might've happened if you weren't." With that, he left.

Angel sat there, mulling over the words for quite some time after Xander left. He finally decided that what he felt didn't much matter – Cordy deserved someone who wasn't a danger to her, a lover that could show her in every way possible without reservation. And he had far too many reservations to ever be the one to do that. She was the best friend he'd ever had – that was quite enough.

~**~