Disclaimer: Nothing has changed since the first chapter. Joss and David still own all.
Thanks to all who have been so kind with their reviews, especially Polly, your reviews are always lovely to read. I hope everyone keeps enjoying this. Only one or two chapters left to go after this update of :
Body Armour
Cordelia sat on the edge of the bed, silently quivering, her small frame rattling with every breath. She hadn't uttered a single word since Angel had carried her from the bathroom. Not a syllable when he gently smoothed droplets of water from her pink skin, nor a murmur when he eased her into warmed, dry clothes.
When she finally spoke, her voice was low and hushed. "I can't do this Angel."
The vampire paused and then resumed untangling her hair with smooth sweeps of her silver hairbrush. "Yes you can," he promised quietly, "You can do this."
Cordelia shook her head sorrowfully, turning to him slowly. Her face shimmered with desperation, eyes filled with tumultuous disquiet. "No Angel, I can't." She took a long shaky breath, her lips twitching nervously.
"You're right." The confession hurt, carving her apart. "I know you're right about the powder. I have a need. I feel a need." Cordelia faltered, confusion engraved on her face. She lifted her eyes, a strange knowledge filling her hazel gaze. "I know you're right but what you are asking me to do? I can't Angel. I'm not like you. I've never been like you. I haven't ever beaten anything in my life. I can't beat this."
Angel shook his head. "You're wrong. You can beat this Cordelia," he smiled, suddenly, briefly. "You've accepted you have a problem. That's the first step out of the tunnel."
Cordelia laughed, the sound harsh, hard. "Tunnel? There's no tunnel Angel. This, what Jarod showed me, this is my life. This is the meaning in my life. I don't want to walk away from it Angel. I can't walk away from it."
"You have to."
"I won't." Cordelia said calmly. She reached back, flinging her damp hair behind her shoulders. "I know the risks Angel. I understand the dangers. Don't you see? If anything, you've convinced me that my choices, my decisions were right. Jarod should have told me about the side effects. He should have warned me of the potential consequences." She paused, moistening her lips.
"But knowing all this, I would still choose him."
Angel stared at her, a horrible comprehension dawning upon him. This was the Cordelia he knew, her steely determination, grim resolve apparent in every word, every pale feature. She meant each word.
She can't think straight. The drug, the illness, she couldn't think rationally. And yet, the vampire knew. This was the depth to which he had allowed her to fall, these were the burdens the powder had lifted. It wasn't Jarod alone who had guided Cordelia away from her friends, from the only family she really had. He had done this. He had left her drifting, hurtling through nothingness, coping with the visions and Doyle and the nightmares that appeared in their office every other week.
"I know you mean it." Angel said finally, his voice pained. "I know you do but I am going to get you back. I'm going to get you back to where you'll change your mind. To where you'll choose me."
Cordelia smiled softly, his ignorance almost amusing her. "It doesn't work that way Angel. I can't go back to her. I've seen too much. I've felt too much. And I've found the escape."
"An escape that could kill you." Angel interjected angrily.
"Without it." Cordelia returned quietly. "There is no living. Not for me."
Angel shook his head again, promise in the movement. "I won't let you go."
That small smile again. "In the end, you'll have to."
*************************
Cordelia grew quiet, accepting the impasse between them. With a final silent glance, she curled back onto the bed, closing her eyes. Her limp body shivered, heaving shudders wracking her bones. Unearthing blankets from the closet, Angel smothered her with warmth, somehow hoping to alleviate the icy cold gripping his young seer. Cordelia thanked him, her voice small and tired. Sleep slowly overtook her, restlessness haunting her in slumber, low whimpers a testament to her disquiet.
The vampire stood guard, watching over her.
*****************************
"Angel you can't give up."
"I have no intention of giving up Wesley" Angel said impatiently, opening the bag of blood with one fumbling hand. "I am just saying that she seemed pretty damn sincere. I don't know if I can get her back this way."
"What do you suggest then? Turn her back to Jarod and hope she reaches enlightenment by herself because…"
"Lose the Giles tone Wes. I know what you're saying all right? Have you found anything else?"
"Well," Wesley cleared his throat, always a sign he had news to tell, "I have managed to investigate our friend Jarod."
Angel squeezed the bag tightly. "And?"
"And he has been in L.A. for the past two years. He has worked as a spiritualist in a healing center outside the city."
"A spiritualist."
"Apparently quite a good one. Donations to the center increased dramatically after his arrival. But there's more. Jarod spent three years in Tibet studying an ancient religion Pacar."
The vampire's brow creased. "Pacar? That doesn't sound familiar."
"No reason why it should. The last Pacar tribe died out over eight hundred years ago. The tribe was composed of seers dedicated to learning more about their gift. For centuries, they used their visions to aid their people, to guide the communities in judgment. From the ancient writings, it appears that some of the seers clamored for a greater use of their powers. They rebelled against the chieftain's teachings and began to expand their visions. Their subsequent experimentation led to insanity among the chief rebels and a massacre ensued, killing the entire tribe."
Angel digested this new piece of information. "And Jarod studied these people."
"He did" Wesley confirmed grimly. "It would appear he was an avid student, teasing out the seers various experiments."
"The powder" Angel said, almost to himself.
"That's not all" Wesley continued, his voice serious, "The ultimate aim of the rebels was clear. They wanted to achieve Kancelev."
"Kancelev?"
"It roughly translates as 'carrier of power'. The rebels believed that by accessing the expanded visions, a seer could ultimately control the events they saw. Change them. Instead of being messengers for the Powers that Be…"
"They become the Powers that Be." Angel finished softly.
"In essence. Jarod was trying to become a PTB, control the future, and shape the events around him. He could only have a small window of opportunity in which he could have done so, inevitably the powder would have destroyed Cordelia."
"As well that bastard knew." Angel glanced down at his damp hand, blood splattered drying between his fingers.
I wish that
damn bag were Jarod. This blood, his blood.
The vampire reveled in a sudden cold urge to kill, old habits rising to the fore. He subdued the darkest thoughts and returned his attention to Wesley.
"He won't give up you know Angel," the Englishman was advising. "Cordelia is the only seer of the PTB, to the best of my knowledge and as such, Jarod will be anxious to get her back."
Angel moved toward the sink and turning the taps, he watched the water gush, cleansing his soiled hand. The blood dripped, diluted, away, the metal sink briefly reddened.
"He's human right? I didn't sense any demon parts."
"He's human" Wesley established with certainty. "But that doesn't mean he's not dangerous. After all it's not as though you can simply kill him."
"If he tries to hurt Cordelia." Angel said evenly, his fingers cold under the flowing water. "I'll drain him dry."
*************************
Elusive and fleeting, lucidity taunted her. She was sweat drenched, the damp cloth on her forehead only serving to relocate the heat into her burning cheeks.
Somewhere, in the darkness, he moved.
It wasn't supposed to be this hot. It was supposed to be cool or at least bearably warm. Cordelia could remember days when it had been bitterly cold. Her cheeks icy and numb. Switzerland. It had been cold in Switzerland. Her ski had broken. Mom had laughed.
'It's all right sweetie. Once you're all right. Have them bring up another set.'
Xander had been cold. Afterward. She had burned him with her heat.
"You're the useless part of the group. You're the Zeppo. 'Cool', Look it up. It's something that a sub literate that's repeated twelfth grade three times has and you don't."
She had burned him deep. But he had done the same, hadn't he? She couldn't quite remember.
He moved closer, his shadow melting in the darkness.
The light switched on.
"Too bright," she protested. "Too bright. My eyes are on fire."
He whispered something, his words a wind in her ears, his gaze digging into her.
"Stop that" Cordelia ordered crossly, jerking back indignantly. "You mustn't do that."
He paused.
She shook her head, her sweat lined hair loose. "You couldn't be expected to understand," she told him confidently. "Mom wouldn't allow you to ski."
Her fingernails tugged the sheet from around her body, freeing her. "You shouldn't anyhow, its dangerous, you know."
He spoke again and though the wind still howled, this time she understood. "Why's that Cordy?"
She smiled kindly, not wishing to upset him. "Because people die that way. They die. There's only minutes left and one great leap decides everything. He can't come back after the leap you know."
"I know" Angel said softly, lifting a hand to smooth the dampness from her cheeks. "I know sweetheart."
Cordelia nodded sadly. "It's bad luck all right, if you only saw the..." she halted, her eyes widened, a sudden clenching pain driving through her
"Too bright" she gasped as her mind exploded with a hundred different images.
" Far too bright."
******************************
Cordelia nestled against his chest, her eyes vacant, her mumblings incoherent. The twelve hours of almost constant hallucinations had finally faded, leaving her a rambling stricken mess. Angel held her close, arms wrapped tightly around her.
He wasn't sure it helped her. It helped him. She was safe in his arms. Nothing would hurt her here. He wouldn't ever allow anything to hurt her again.
She was safe.
Enjoying her warmth, relishing the small hands clutching his arms, her head curved against his chest, Angel allowed himself to relax. Morning had arrived hours earlier, an anxious Englishman having spent it pacing the kitchen and peering into the rumpled bedroom, witnessing Cordelia's agony with a grief private to himself. Wesley had watched her swamped with foreign visions, struggling for freedom, her small body easily held by the vampire. She had called to him, her voice broken.
"Wesley please, stop him. He's hurting me Wes. You have to help me. Please God, just help me."
The Englishman had done his best to soothe her, allowing Angel a few moments respite, whispering comforts he was sure wouldn't help. But she had calmed and smiled longingly, intertwining his fingers through her own.
"We can't keep secrets from each other."
Wesley had returned a warm smile, hoping to somehow comfort that wistful face. "We won't Cordelia, we won't."
She had slept then, intermittedly, occasional bouts of rage, fear and pain rousing her. And all the while, Angel had tended to her gently, caring for her lovingly, while Wesley, for the first time in years prayed for their girl.
************************
It had been one hell of a day.
Long hours punctured by rare minutes of fitful sleep, the evening passed. Cordelia had descended into an abyss of dark pain, her cries awful howls of agony, disturbing the otherwise deathly quiet of the apartment. Lonely and distant, she keened in the approaching darkness, flinching from touched, locked in a private despair. All the while Angel hovered close by, administering remedies remembered from two centuries of watching the living tend to their ill.
Finally, mercifully, her hazel eyes fluttered closed and her breathing slowed, regular now, nightmares lost in a peaceful sleep.
I just hope
she hangs on to some of that peace. She damn well needs it.
"Here."
A warm mug was pushed into his hand, a sudden heat tingling his palm. Thoughts disturbed, Angel glanced sideways.
"Thanks Wesley."
Wesley, pale and gaunt, managed a weary nod. "I was afraid you'd head for the warmest snack if you didn't eat soon."
Angel smiled crookedly as he inspected the contents of the mug. "You're safe Wesley. I'm not all that partial to British blood."
"Glad to hear it," Wesley responded dryly, dropping onto the leather sofa behind, his eyes drifting toward the bedroom. He propped his legs upon the small coffee table. "You should relax Angel, she'll be out for a few hours."
"I hope so," Angel swallowed, the blood sneaking warmth all the way to his stomach. "She needs some rest."
"She'll get it," Wesley said confidently as he placed his hands behind his head. "The human body may be resilient but it needs sleep. Cordelia can't fight that natural urge."
"I don't see why not." Angel drained the last of the blood and sat back with a groan. "She's fighting just about everything else." He shifted uncomfortably, wincing as weary muscles ached in protest. "I'm just glad I haven't had the chance to teach her those self defense moves she used to harp on about. I'm so damn tired, I think she might just about floor me."
Wesley quietly smiled at the idea. "Slightly melodramatic, don't you think?"
Angel shot the Englishman a pointed look. "You try wrestling with her for two days."
Wesley shook his head. "I don't think I could Angel. I don't think anyone could do the job you've done these past few days. You truly have been a good friend to Cordelia, more than a friend."
"Family" Angel murmured absentmindedly. "I'm family. At least the only family she has around here."
"I suppose so," Wesley answered thoughtfully. "She hardly ever mentions her…" The Englishman jumped, startled by the vampire's sudden lurch forward. Angel was on his feet, standing perfectly still, attentive and alert.
"Angel," Wesley stood cautiously, casting a slow gaze around the apartment. "What is it?"
Angel turned quietly, his eyes raised upward. "I hear something."
Wesley frowned. "Something?"
Angel stepped past him, tension tightening his expression. "Someone," he amended, sparing a glance backward. He turned back to Wesley, full brief attention on the Englishman. "Stay with her. Don't leave her."
"But Angel," Wesley hissed at his employer's back, "Why don't you wait, at least grab a…"
The vampire was gone, having disappeared up the spiral staircase with characteristic stealth.
"Damn bloody fool," Wesley muttered darkly. Hurrying toward the weapon chest, the ex Watcher unlocked it and rummaged around for his favorite crossbow. Gripping it tightly, he moved toward the bedroom doorway and dropping down, the Englishman sat and waited.
**************************
Slipping the padlock from the door bolt, Angel gently nudged the door ajar, half expecting a creaky protest to break the silence. Relaxing in the quietness, Angel eased his way through the half opened door, pausing to close it with ginger care. He moved forward, his eyes searching the night. The main door to Angel Investigations swung open with a light touch and stepping inside the main office, the vampire easily identified his visitor.
"Hello Jarod."
Angel watched with quiet satisfaction as the intruder jumped and whirled in the darkness, his eyes fruitlessly hunting him. The vampire inched forward, relishing his intimidating entrance. He cut a formidable figure he knew as he stepped from the blackness enveloping him, his eyes as dark as the night.
"Angel." Jarod's voice was steady, no hint of fear there.
That would change.
Angel drew to a halt, fixing an appallingly direct gaze on the other man. "You want something Jarod?"
Jarod glanced slowly around the office, his eyes finally falling on Cordelia's muddled desk. "I came to see a friend."
Angel shrugged slightly, flippantly. "No friend of yours here. There never was."
Jarod inclined his head politely. "I beg to differ. Cordelia is a dear friend to me."
"Cordelia." Angel's tone grew dangerously quiet, "will never see you again. You won't attempt to see or speak with her or contact her in any way. Ever again. You dispose of every ounce of powder you've got, you keep your nose clean and you'll keep breathing. Are you understanding what I'm saying here Jarod? Because I'd hate for there to be any confusion on this."
Jarod smiled thinly, resting a hand on the edge of the desk. "Still making decisions for her, Angel? Don't you think she's entitled to think for herself?"
"I think you don't know anything about Cordelia. Or me. I think you should be grateful I'm not dissecting you limb by limb right now."
"But you don't have time right?" Jarod's lips twisted into a sneer. "Too busy playing white knight to…"
A hard-hitting punch silenced him, knocking him into a backward stumble. Jarod grunted, pulled himself up and promptly slipped back, his head slapping against the wooden floor. His eyes groggily focused on a pair of black shoes planted in front of him.
"Maybe you're right." Angel said from above, cold control gripping his voice. "Maybe I should take the time now."
The vampire reached down and hauled the other man to unsteady feet. "See Jarod, I was going to wait. Make sure that Cordelia was okay before I went looking for you." Angel peered at the shorter man. "You hearing me okay, Jarod? You're looking a little groggy there."
Heaving short shallow breaths, Jarod lifted a vehement gaze to the vampire.
Angel shook his head sorrowfully. "You know it's rude not to answer a question. I hate bad manners." He hit Jarod again, his savage punch sending the man reeling. Angel watched him fall back, blood and saliva spluttering onto the floor. A cold calm settled in the vampire as he matched Jarod's retreat, his eyes never leaving the shaking body.
"You want to answer me now Jarod? Hmm?" His shoe swung through the air colliding with the other man's underbelly.
Jarod groaned horribly, his hands flying to his stomach. "Please."
"Please what Jarod? Please will I let you live long enough to destroy someone else? Please leave your tongue in your mouth so you can lead someone to the hell Cordelia's in? See, those options just don't appeal to me Jarod." Angel hunkered down, his hands on his knees. "Killing you or at least maiming you badly, those are the choices that appeal to me."
"The PTB have a…" Jarod dragged a painful breath, "real gem in you."
He was rewarded with another punch, this time sending him hurtling into the base of the filing cabinet.
"Yeah, you were checking out job opportunities with the PTB weren't you Jarod?" Angel lifted the man and began to dust down his shirt with deliberate care. "Some aspirations there, haven't you? Becoming one of them. Your high school counselor ever tell you, that you were over ambitious?"
Contempt sparked in the human's gaze. "Why not? You disgust me, so passively acceptant of their existence. Never questioning, never wondering what their purpose is, what it could be."
"So you decided to use Cordelia to find that out for yourself huh?" Angel leaned closer. "You knew what it would do to her."
Jarod sank back almost imperceptibly. "It had to be done," he said finally, flatly. "I didn't want to hurt her but every cause has its sacrifice. She was, still is, mine." Somewhere between the bleeding and aching, Jarod mustered up some courage. "You can't change anything, you know. She will come back to me."
The vampire drew back, considering this. He surveyed the other man, his expression darkly thoughtful.
"I'm guessing," Angel said as he shoved the other man across the office, "She won't find you if you're dead."
***********************
He pounded with expert skill, each blow delivering deadly pain. The human skull was so damn fragile. Back in the days of Angelus, he had known a hundred ways of keeping someone conscious in torture.
Nothing worse than a victim who can't appreciate your talent.
He could smell the blood on his knuckles, feel the bruising beneath each blow.
And still the hatred consumed him.
"Angel."
The voice, calm, cool and familiar tugged him back. Reining the demon in, Angel turned slowly to see Wesley standing in the unlit doorway.
"I told you to stay with her," he rasped.
Wesley ignored him and instead stepped inside. "You've done enough here Angel."
Angel managed a tired laugh. "I couldn't if I tried, Wesley."
Wesley nodded in understanding. "You can't make her feel better up here. Just yourself."
Angel shifted back, turning to gaze down at the huddled form at his feet. Broken and battered, Jarod was easing his way to his knees. Glancing back at Wesley, the vampire nodded shortly.
"I know."
He crouched down, gently tilting Jarod's head up to face him. He waited as the other man focused bleary eyes upon him before speaking.
"Don't ever come back here. She belongs with me, you understand me? Don't ever come near her again. You do and I'll feed your liver to my neighbors dog, you got that?"
"You… can't … stop… the… inevitable." The words slurred through broken teeth, were defiant.
Angel rose to his feet. "You've been warned," he said quietly. "Don't be here when I come back."
Moving silently away, Angel passed Wesley without a backward glance. The Englishman stared, transfixed by the human misery struggling on the floor.
Jarod twisted his neck, his smile manic through pain. "You going to… watch or… you… going to help..."
Wesley swallowed a sudden rush of bile. "I'd rather leave but first a word of advice? Listen to what he said. Next time, I won't be here and he won't be as merciful."
"You're… a … fool…"
"Actually," Wesley tore his eyes away and he turned to follow Angel downstairs. "I suspect history will judge the man who tried to steal the seer from the souled vampire as the blithering idiot."