Disclaimers in chapter 1
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Protection
by Slayerbelle
Chapter 2 -- Stranger In The House
"What do you mean we don't have Holy Water?"
"Cordelia, I brought a ton of stakes and crosses at your request, I'm sorry if it's not to your liking."
She was going to spaz out, she knew it. "Yeah, like that's gonna help in the middle of an evil invincible demon chomping on our necks!"
"How are you even sure he's turned? You didn't see him did you?"
"I saw him all right, when I was all Migraine Girl. He had a woman by the throat against a wall and it wasn't in the kinky way, unless the Powers That Be signals got crossed with demon porn!"
Wesley winced at the image. "Cordelia, please."
Ew. She had to shake off that feeling she'd just conjured too. "I just say, let's be careful. I don't know why the vision came like that, it just did."
They both stepped in front of the Hyperion's door.
Wesley paused. "Do you think we should ask him first?"
"'Are you feeling evil right now?' I think I did that before, and denial is often the socially acceptable response."
"It's not right just... bursting in armed. He's done nothing to make us suspicious of him."
"Hello -- Migraine Girl got it in a vision!"
"And I don't doubt the credibility of what you see, Cordelia, it's just that..."
Wesley sighed, almost into the door they were face to face with.
It takes a toll on him, Cordelia realized. It's hard to know you'll one day wake up and not be able to trust your friend.
They've been through this deal, they pretty much know the drill. But in the past year they've gotten to know the Angel they never knew in Sunnydale, and the possibility of one day turning on him, though likely, just got harder every time.
"I just mean you can't really prepare for this kind of thing." Wesley quickly said.
"OK," She wasn't going to give him a hard time tonight. "Let's go in. Real subtle. Hide those stakes behind your back."
Wesley nodded, lifting a hand to open the doors. Careful not to make any sound, he tiptoed in, Cordelia right behind him.
"The lights are on." She whispered. "He's home."
She was referring to the lights in their lobby, by the front desk, which was where they usually received their clients. As far as she could tell, they were the only lights on in the whole hotel.
Wesley stopped tiptoeing for a second, so suddenly that Cordelia miscalculated and rammed into his back.
"Oh, that's stealthy, Wesley!" she hissed.
He lifted a finger to silence her. "I hear him talking."
"What's he saying? Is it evil bragging? Angelus used to do that a lot, you know. Talk to no one in particular. Do the soap opera monologue."
Lights flipped on in the entire ground floor of the hotel and Wesley and Cordelia stopped in their tracks, blinking at the sudden brightness.
The former Watcher tossed her a look. "Oh right. The super sensitive senses."
Might as well go for it, she was already caught with a stake in hand. "Are you evil?" she said.
Angel flipped off some of the lights before returning to the couch, a little miffed at what would have been an ambush. Good-intentioned, and ill-organized, but an ambush all the same. "I'm not evil, Cordelia. You two might as well sit down. I want to introduce you to someone."
And that was when she first noticed the girl sitting on the couch, not at all fazed by the scene that had just taken place.
"The brunette!" Cordelia gasped. "And you're not evil! So it really was just demon porn?"
Angel winced. What the hell? "Cordy." He turned to Aurora, embarrassed. "I'm sorry, I mean, she talks like this sometimes..."
"Don't worry." Aurora graciously stood up and offered her hand. "Cordelia Chase. Wesley Wyndam-Price. So glad to finally meet you. My name is Aurora Halley. Kalderash."
*Of course, she knows them.* Eight years of being around him, she had to have known almost everyone he came across. Everyone he ever knew in that time. The look on her face, it was like recognition sparked in her.
Cordelia and Wesley gripped her hand, both surprised as their names came up.
"Kalderash?" Wesley went.
"You know my name?" Cordelia exclaimed. "Was it from the Clearall commercial? 'Cause I was there, you know, the girl in the back in the end. That was my hair."
"Huh?" Aurora paused. "Oh yes, you're an actress. Right. No, I haven't seen the commercial. Sorry."
"You're Jenny Calendar's relative." Ever the intellectual, Wesley was currently putting it all together in his head.
The name, however, hit Cordelia another way. Angel could see the shudder ripple through her, a genuine chill she hadn't felt in a long time. "Miss Calendar?" She sobered up a bit, and sat down. "What...what are you here for? Does it have to do with Angel's soul?"
The change in Cordelia's mood was so quick and sudden that everyone in the room paused to give her space.
Something painful twitched in Angel when it occurred to him that Cordelia was remembering. She always maintained an air of detachment -- flippance, almost -- about the events in high school, but he could see there were some things she'd rather not recall.
"Are you all right, Cordelia?" Wesley sat down on the couch next to her.
She flashed a smile, as if to brighten the memory away. "No, it's just... I remember... the picture. Angelus drew a picture of Miss Calendar's..." Cordelia cleared her throat. "Anyway. Ancient history. That time I was a cheerleader and could afford Prada. Time passes."
"So, Aurora," Wesley interjected, "If your family is ... well, they can't really be happy with what Angelus has done ... why are you here?"
She exchanged a look with Angel. "I have to tell them, don't I."
"I trust them with my life, Aurora. You'll need them as well."
She nodded and turned to Wesley. "I'm here because I've always been here. I was with Angel in New York, in Sunnydale, now in LA. That's why I know you, I know all of you."
"You stalked him?" Cordelia said.
"In a manner of speaking. To make a long story... oh whatever. Let's just say that the Kalderash family is divided on how to treat Angel, the family has been that way since the beginning. On one hand Angel was considered the family's biggest nightmare, and yet he was also their biggest... um, success."
"Success?" Wesley looked at Angel, noticing how he seemed to already know the whole story. Poker faced as usual.
"Aside from being involved in magics, the Kalderash, well then at least, were also very spiritual, very involved in different religions. While others believe that Angel's soul restoration was the ultimate act of vengeance on our part, others thought more out of the box and saw it as the perfect opportunity for his redemption."
"Redemption?" Wesley repeated to himself. "Why would your family care about his redemption?"
"I don't know where and when the idea began, but it became enough. The punishment. What mattered eventually was that here was a demon, with strength, skill, and a soul, who could eventually become the greatest champion for the good." Aurora let her words sink in before laughing a little. "It sounds hokey, but at some point in our history someone got that idea."
"And you're part of that family branch." Wesley said.
Aurora nodded. "Yes. Vengeance can only heal you so much, actually... that's wrong. It sates you but leaves you empty. What we've learned thus far is that forgiveness is what heals the victim, redemption heals the ... the abuser. And that's not just Hallmark-card cheese, I truly do believe that." Her eyes turned to Angel just then, full of genuine caring. "I wouldn't be here if I didn't."
Wesley remembered his original question. "That brings to that then. Why you're here."
"To ensure Angel lives long enough to... to redeem himself, someone in my family is called to help him. He has no greater enemy -- he is a demon, he is strong, he can take care of himself. The only thing that can actually take his life is his despair. That's what the person who is called does, anyway. We're equipped with, um, abilities. To sense his despair, and we're given the means to help keep him alive."
"So you have powers then?" Wesley asked.
Aurora nodded. "All kinds. Magic. Strength. The most basic of them being, I can sense Angel's despair. That's kind of essential, so we know when to intervene."
"How do you... how would that be done, anyway? I'm very curious."
"It has something to do with..." Aurora held up her hand. "May I, Angel?"
He was still sitting in the couch across from her. "Uh, sure. OK."
Without moving from her chair, Aurora squinted a little, concentrating. Her open palm faced Angel's chest. And then from her palm, emanated a soft green glow again, not brighter than most light bulbs, but shining and mesmerizing still.
Cordelia sucked in her breath. "Wow."
He didn't feel a thing. What was he expecting to feel, though, all warm inside? This was how she had gotten through all this time without being detected... she literally looked into his soul for eight years and he didn't feel a thing.
He wondered about her all of a sudden. Devoted her life to a thankless task.
"Hope. It's what makes the glow." Aurora flicked her fingers and the green light was gone. "The softer the glow, the more in despair Angel is. At some point I'm supposed to intervene, when he is seriously becoming... suicidal. My other power is very tricky. I can do so many things, heal, fly, mind-read... but only on two conditions: to save my life, or to save Angel's. The saving my life part's pretty easy, one time I was mugged in New York and I easily beat the guy to unconsciousness, I suddenly learned kung fu or something. For saving Angel, though, the process is a lot more big picturey and I don't necessarily get it."
"This evening she healed a staked vampire." Angel said.
Aurora could see the protest forming in Wesley and Cordelia's mouths. "Yes, but that's what I was supposed to do. I can't heal anything on a whim, I was able to because it was what I was supposed to do. For you, Angel. I swear, I don't go around medicating the already dead."
Cordelia raised her hand, like she was in class. "OK. With you so far. You're here to help him out. You stalked him for... for how long?"
"Eight years."
"OK. You've got that cool glowy suicide meter. But how would healing a vamp help Angel?"
Aurora was stumped. "I don't know. These things... they just come to me. In my head. I don't really question them."
"Visions?" Cordelia perked up at the possibility of a soul sister.
"More like dreams. In metaphors and all, but very specific."
"And what other deeds have you done for Angel? To rescue him from despair." Wesley asked.
She looked up at Angel, drawing in her breath tentatively.
He knew what she was going to say. He'd seen what she'd done, when she had touched him. It was like he was remembering everything now, correctly, as she was recounting her story. His life had flashed before his eyes and he knew what she was going to say.
"She introduced me to Buffy." he said softly.
Cordelia recoiled. "Hoo-what?"
Wesley did too, but not as wildly. "But you were approached by a demon named Whistler, Angel..." He turned to Aurora, the pieces all falling together in his head. "And you in turn approached Whistler. Angel was ... was loitering about in New York. Starving. At the end of his rope. You wanted to give him a purpose."
She smiled. "Actually I was young. That whole purpose thing was incidental. All I wanted him to do was start dating, maybe it'll get him to take a shower once in a while."
"But it worked," Wesley caught on quickly. "You gave Angel a reason to be alive, until..."
"Until he got too happy and started the killing spree." Cordelia finished for him. "You must have gotten a lot of flak for that. I mean, it was your idea after all. Didn't they warn you not to give him too much of a happy?"
"I didn't know that would happen! It was almost perfect, the curse. They designed it to be that cruel, that unkind. Because perfect happiness is unattainable, or at least many philosophies would tell us so. Angel, it turns out, is not like any other. And yes, I got a tremendous amount of flak for it. But I never regretted that decision, because being with her gave him more hope and love than any human being gets in a normal lifetime and feeling that in him ... it wasn't worth the trouble it caused, but I'm glad that's what he'll remember. He'll always have that."
And then Angel felt guilty. Was it possible that he really owed this stranger this much? She had done her job and watched over him for most of her adult life, and yet he knew nothing about it. There was a ... familiarity with which she treated them, the way she talked to Wesley and Cordelia -- not being surprised at his scholarly interrogations, not fazed by her colorful side comments.
"If I'm to understand this, your whole calling relies on Angel not knowing you are there to... protect him." Wesley added suddenly.
Aurora nodded, a little sheepishly. "Well, yeah."
"I would guess cloaking spells?"
"Yes. Several. They don't all work 24/7, so most of the time the MO is just to not introduce myself into Angel's life."
"And what's changed now?"
"I don't know." Aurora touched her throat, bruised from Angel's earlier chokehold. "He knew. He just... came at me in that alley. I knew he was there, so it was no big, but he said he knew me and that was just weird."
"Oh, Angel attacked you because of me." Cordelia volunteered. "Looks like not a lot of people understood that vision of mine."
"And I'm not the only one after her." Angel said. "That I found out about her at all means the cloaking spells are weakening."
"Why? Who else could be after you?" Wesley asked.
"The other side of the family," Aurora said. "Needless to say, they're not happy that their own kind is turning against them. We hide not just from Angel but from them also. They try to find out who we are, and they... well, former protectors of Angel have never been heard from again."
"Oh. And yet in one night three people found out about your true identity." Wesley observed. "That doesn't go well for you."
"It doesn't."
"I think you should stay here tonight." Angel offered. "The room next to mine's empty."
"It's OK, I've done the danger thing before, Angel."
"Not with me knowing about it. I can take you back to your place tomorrow, tonight you stay here." He was firm now, being the boss. She buckled.
"OK." she said softly.
====
The Acquisitions Department was on the fifteenth floor, and it had the floor all to itself because of the considerable storage space the department consumed.
Because at Wolfram and Hart, Acquisitions didn't necessarily mean acquiring corporations.
The security issue had gotten a lot more complicated since Ralph had turned. Back in the day, the barcoded ID and the quick pass through the sentient guard got him through. But no, now that he was fanged, it was the ID, the cleansing spell so the anti-vampire alarm wouldn't clang, and finally the sentient guard. The cleansing spell was unpleasant and left him feeling funny, it wasn't the best thing to go through when you were feeling restless.
The combination was in his office. Also the file he had just filled out, which he had to consult because he couldn't remember what deposit box he put the thing in. Despite it being way past midnight lights were still on in different regions of the floor. Because a lot of Wolfram and Hart associates were dedicated to their jobs. Lived and breathed them.
Box 72-865. Great.
He had access to the storage area, so he had no problem doing his business there. It was an easy mission anyway -- go in, get the thing, use it, put it back.
Box 72-865 was in Storage Room 7. Ralph walked in and flipped on the lights.
"Ralph, we just got you that suit. You've ruined it already."
Ralph almost gasped. "Lindsey. Dammit, it's late. Go home or sleep or whatever it is that you do."
Lindsey McDonald, Wolfram and Hart junior partner, was knee deep in files taken from, apparently, Box 72-870. Ralph knew he was very human, but he never seemed to sleep. Or eat. Or leave the office.
"This *is* what I do," he said with a cocky smile. "What found its way into your suit?"
"A stake."
"Bad shot."
"Hell yeah." Ralph searched for his box and yanked it out of the wall lined with storage boxes. "It was that Angel."
At the name, Lindsey nodded in acknowledgement. His eyes burned with a remembered pain, but he didn't verbalize it. "He normally hits the bulls-eye the first time, Ralph. You must have squirmed or something."
"Yeah, bulls-eye. Like that fantastic job he did on your hand." Ralph worked the combination on the box, clumsily at first because of his restlessness. And then the lock gave, and he retrieved what he had come here for.
"A breadknife?" Lindsey observed as Ralph lifted the silver object from the box.
"The Feuralian Knife." Ralph held it up against the light. It was not much larger than the breadknives Lindsey was referring to. Intricate carving on its silver handle was handmade, dated around 1565. Its blade, the knife's most interesting feature, was not smooth at all. Also carved with very intricate designs, the blade was blessed by an entire order of monks in England in the 16th century. The knife was a classic, and Ralph had gone through paperwork hell to acquire it from the secluded monastery in the English countryside. Paperwork because he killed a whole lot of monks to get it, and he had to itemize each casualty with full accountability and detail and that was just too corporate for his taste.
"That's not wood, not going to work."
Ralph flashed the thing at Lindsey. "Oh it will work, eventually. After several hours of terminal, escalating pain."
"He must have hit a sore spot, that Angel. For you to pull out the big guns."
Ralph eyes burned with anger. "I lay on the ground and he watched me. He just watched me."
"May I ask how you got back here, without a stake in the wrong place on your chest?"
"A girl." Ralph was preoccupied now, returning the box to its shelf. "She took out the stake and healed me. Well, I got to go, Lindsey. Vicious murder planned and all."
Lindsey waved as Ralph closed the door behind him. Of course he knew about the Feuralian Knife. Once stabbed into the heart of a vampire it activates a process of slow, menacingly painful death, dusting the vamp from the inside, so slowly that he actually feels himself disintegrating. Ralph may have done the legwork on acquiring that artifact, but Lindsey had done his homework on it as well.
He doubted Ralph would succeed. Ralph was young, he didn't know the legend of Angelus as comprehensively as one who planned to kill him should. Lindsey knew Ralph wouldn't be back at work the next night.
But he said something about a girl. Who could heal vampires. Wasn't there a file on that somewhere? Lindsey shuffled through some papers and picked up the telephone.
====
The new information was just swirling around Wesley's head, so much that he couldn't sleep. Not even on the hotel lobby's sofa which he had always found quite comfortable.
When light began to sift into the hotel through the windows around 6 am, he stopped pretending to doze off and just stood up, careful not to disturb Cordelia softly breathing on the other couch.
He smelled coffee coming from the kitchen. Angel was in there making it.
"You didn't have to, Angel." Wesley said, taking a cup from out of the dish drainer.
He got a strange look in return. "It's for Aurora."
"Oh. I'm sure she won't mind if it's missing a cupful then." Wesley poured himself some and took his place on the kitchen table. He rotated the cup several times before tasting it. "Why aren't you asleep? You must have been up over twenty-four hours now."
"I don't really need that much rest anyway."
"True." And then the silence fell between them.
"I guess you want me to talk about last night."
"Do you believe her?"
He nodded solemnly. "I do. I believe she is what she says she is. It's like I remember her now, I see her in my memories."
"You don't think she's lying."
"No."
"You don't think she's been sent by... I don't know, Wolfram and Hart."
"No." The same firmness. "I remember her."
"Any good witch -- one from the Kalderash clan at that -- can work any kind of ... augmentation ritual on you."
Angel paused to think. "No. Wolfram and Hart... it doesn't make sense."
"Why not? You already have her in your home. Sleeping in the room next to yours. Your guard is down."
"It's not." Angel sat opposite Wesley on the table. "I do believe her, Wesley."
"OK. Just checking." He sipped his coffee -- much like one would sip tea, different thing altogether, though -- and noticed something. "You can't be that worried about her life, Angel. She's lived in this danger for eight years, she is at least knowledgeable in various survival skills."
"I'm bothered. By how I found out."
"Oh yes, you did, didn't you? You knew about her before she revealed herself to you."
"I forced her to reveal herself to me." Angel shook his head, still plagued by not knowing what it meant. "I had a dream about her. I mean, the dream. It revealed to me who she was."
"Have you always dreamed symbolically?"
"Not specifically. I have nightmares, comes with the territory. Except... except this turned out to be true. It was like --"
"-- a vision." Wesley hypothesized. Interesting.
He couldn't bring himself to say it, and seemed to be glad that Wesley took upon the initiative.
"I was thinking about this all night as well. I personally think the Powers are involved in this."
"The Powers?" Angel had obviously considered this already, but was waiting for Wesley's take on it.
So he went right on it. "I believe her also, and I think she -- and her kind -- are instruments of the Powers. They may call them by another name, but I believe that's the call they respond to. The Powers need the vampire with a soul for the coming terrors, and your protectors are there to make sure you make it to that day. It fits. It makes sense."
"It doesn't explain why I would find out."
"That's right. Your finding out ... it weakens their effectivity, really. From now on you will recognize their attempts at keeping you from despair and if you are truly in that state you will refuse their help. It's not wise for you to know they exist." Wesley shook his head at this one. "This is why you're worried about her."
"I don't know what to do with her, Wesley."
====
One of the bad things about sleeping on the couch in the Hyperion Hotel lobby was that it was surrounded by a lot of windows and at a certain time of day sunlight just hits you right in the face.
That time of day was usually seven a.m., much to Cordelia's dismay.
She tried to swat the sunlight from her eyes -- no such luck though -- so she rolled over and tried to face away from the source. Her eyes opened a bit and she saw Aurora sitting on the other couch, the one Wesley had taken, fully awake and looking at her.
"Jeez!" Cordelia exclaimed, startled. "You really do have this stalking thing down, don't you?"
She smiled. "Sorry. I just woke up, was supposed to go to the kitchen but Angel and Wesley were talking about me. I didn't want to intrude."
"Oh yes, well, when those two gossip you can't get a word in edgewise anyway." Cordelia stretched herself into a sitting position and breathed in the smell of coffee brewing. "So... did you get one of those vision dreams of yours last night?"
"No," Aurora replied. "They don't come as regularly as they used to."
"Do they feel like your head is being pounded by a very large blunt object?"
"No, they're just dreams."
"Oh. I got gypped." Cordelia sighed. "My visions come like amazingly angry little men with wooden sticks that just start marching around and vandalizing property in my head, you know what I mean? It's not pretty at all. I can't believe Doyle stuck me with this."
"Well, he always thought you were special."
It was like Cordelia had been struck in the face, only she crumpled at the blow and didn't strike back as she normally would. "What did you say?"
"Doyle. He always thought you were --"
"You -- you knew Doyle?" Suddenly she understood how blown away Angel was with the knowledge that this girl knew almost every aspect of his life. It was like she was there, an extra person in the room they never saw or heard. "Did you ... was it your idea to send Doyle to Angel? To be his vision guy?"
"Not my idea. That was Doyle's destiny, not Angel's. But I knew him because ... well, similar workplace and all. We'd compare notes and stuff. We'd talk about you all the time."
It would have been almost a year by now, but the sadness just seemed to always come up no matter how hard she tried to purge it. Sometimes she thought she would never get over it, that she should nurture the sadness left by Doyle's death. But sometimes she felt guilty that she was hanging on to what might have been. Like Doyle loving her.
He kind of said he did, that last night, but it was such an intense experience. He was about to sacrifice his life and all. People don't really get to clarify their statements after that.
The tears just welled up, all of a sudden. She didn't cry over Doyle anymore, not after this long.
"I'm sorry," Aurora said quickly. "He knew it was his time, Cordelia. He was punishing himself for something he'd done and that night he found his redemption. I believe he knew it was his time."
Cordelia brushed the tears off, no big. "Yeah, well, there are lots of other things to live for than counting your sins. He didn't have a chance to know that." She wasn't angry anymore, or wounded, just sad.
Aurora sighed. "You're absolutely right."
"I am?"
"People like him and me, we walk around like this is the only thing we have in our lives. And that becomes true, we get too into it that we forget -- how to do other things."
"Yeah, well..." And Cordelia stopped there, realizing that the sadness appeared on the other side of the fence too. "What did the Irish man say about me?"
"Oh, at first it was all whining. What should he do to make you notice him, blah blah. He said he got nothing but snappy retorts." Aurora smiled at the memory. "I told him if your relationship with Xander Harris was any indication, he was on the right track."
"Xander -- oh yeah, you know Xander. This is so weird. It's like we went to high school together, only I never talked to you or anything. Which could have really happened, you know, because I was a cheerleader."
*She knows so much about me*, Cordelia realized again, the implications of it kicking into her seven a.m. head. How she and Xander broke up. The accident where she got impaled. Graduation day. And when Angel turned.
"You have all this power to help Angel and stuff. How come you didn't use it?" she asked all of a sudden. "I mean, after Angel got all evil. Your magic people could have passed you a note about putting his soul back in, right?"
She paused to think, not at all taken aback by Cordelia's candor. "I don't think they knew how. They'd been trying to retrieve the curse for almost a century, but the people who knew it had been murdered and eventually the language died. Only Jenny was able to successfully get a close enough translation for it to work..." She drifted off for a second. "And when Angel lost his soul, I lost my powers. At times it was like he... disappeared. I couldn't feel him anymore, couldn't sense him. Couldn't connect to him."
"What did you do the whole time he was bad?"
"Hung out. I was pretty much unemployed. Of course stalling the going home bit, because I knew I was gonna get chewed on. And I did. But they couldn't really blame me because no one saw it coming. And then Angel somehow reemerged from hell, so I went back to work."
Even though she said it was "work", Aurora spoke with the pride of someone who truly loved her calling. Cordelia could see the eyes lighting up at the memories. She herself never spoke about her visions like that. Even Doyle, for all his inherent goodness, seemed to take it as a punishment for a wrong, a cross he had to bear. Not this girl.
"Are you in love with Angel?" she blurted out.
For all Aurora's non-surprise at her sudden topic shifts, this one threw her off a little.
But she must be at least a little smitten.
Aurora chose her words carefully. Or not. "I do love him. He's the best and worst thing that's ever happened to me. Sometimes I think when I grow old and look back he's the only one I'll remember, and be proud of."
"But you're not in love with him?"
"There won't be any soul-losing, that's for sure."
"It doesn't bother you that he didn't even know you existed? I mean, you're giving the best years of your life to him."
"I actually didn't think about it until last night. When he actually talked to me. Well, grabbed me and threw me against the wall is closer to the truth." Aurora touched her neck, still bruised from Angel's hold, and looked at Cordelia. "What's it like? Being his friend. Being around him."
Oh the things she could have said. Being around Angel the past year, she'd known him a lot more than she did when they were in Sunnydale. Cordelia sometimes hoped his opinion of her had changed in that time. It wasn't always fun -- they'd had their share of scares and sometimes she was sure he thought she was a nuisance, but...
"Same here." Cordelia said, with conviction. "He is by far the best thing to happen to me."
The two girls looked at each other and let that realization sink in. Cordelia saw the hope in her eyes, and she knew she shouldn't feel sad for Aurora but she did. While Cordelia felt almost the same pride and love for her tortured boss, her care and concern was at least reciprocated.
Angel stepped out into the lobby. "Aurora," he said. "I made coffee for you."
Aurora smiled, but Cordelia caught the tail end of a sigh there. "Thanks. I'd love that."
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Protection
by Slayerbelle
Chapter 2 -- Stranger In The House
"What do you mean we don't have Holy Water?"
"Cordelia, I brought a ton of stakes and crosses at your request, I'm sorry if it's not to your liking."
She was going to spaz out, she knew it. "Yeah, like that's gonna help in the middle of an evil invincible demon chomping on our necks!"
"How are you even sure he's turned? You didn't see him did you?"
"I saw him all right, when I was all Migraine Girl. He had a woman by the throat against a wall and it wasn't in the kinky way, unless the Powers That Be signals got crossed with demon porn!"
Wesley winced at the image. "Cordelia, please."
Ew. She had to shake off that feeling she'd just conjured too. "I just say, let's be careful. I don't know why the vision came like that, it just did."
They both stepped in front of the Hyperion's door.
Wesley paused. "Do you think we should ask him first?"
"'Are you feeling evil right now?' I think I did that before, and denial is often the socially acceptable response."
"It's not right just... bursting in armed. He's done nothing to make us suspicious of him."
"Hello -- Migraine Girl got it in a vision!"
"And I don't doubt the credibility of what you see, Cordelia, it's just that..."
Wesley sighed, almost into the door they were face to face with.
It takes a toll on him, Cordelia realized. It's hard to know you'll one day wake up and not be able to trust your friend.
They've been through this deal, they pretty much know the drill. But in the past year they've gotten to know the Angel they never knew in Sunnydale, and the possibility of one day turning on him, though likely, just got harder every time.
"I just mean you can't really prepare for this kind of thing." Wesley quickly said.
"OK," She wasn't going to give him a hard time tonight. "Let's go in. Real subtle. Hide those stakes behind your back."
Wesley nodded, lifting a hand to open the doors. Careful not to make any sound, he tiptoed in, Cordelia right behind him.
"The lights are on." She whispered. "He's home."
She was referring to the lights in their lobby, by the front desk, which was where they usually received their clients. As far as she could tell, they were the only lights on in the whole hotel.
Wesley stopped tiptoeing for a second, so suddenly that Cordelia miscalculated and rammed into his back.
"Oh, that's stealthy, Wesley!" she hissed.
He lifted a finger to silence her. "I hear him talking."
"What's he saying? Is it evil bragging? Angelus used to do that a lot, you know. Talk to no one in particular. Do the soap opera monologue."
Lights flipped on in the entire ground floor of the hotel and Wesley and Cordelia stopped in their tracks, blinking at the sudden brightness.
The former Watcher tossed her a look. "Oh right. The super sensitive senses."
Might as well go for it, she was already caught with a stake in hand. "Are you evil?" she said.
Angel flipped off some of the lights before returning to the couch, a little miffed at what would have been an ambush. Good-intentioned, and ill-organized, but an ambush all the same. "I'm not evil, Cordelia. You two might as well sit down. I want to introduce you to someone."
And that was when she first noticed the girl sitting on the couch, not at all fazed by the scene that had just taken place.
"The brunette!" Cordelia gasped. "And you're not evil! So it really was just demon porn?"
Angel winced. What the hell? "Cordy." He turned to Aurora, embarrassed. "I'm sorry, I mean, she talks like this sometimes..."
"Don't worry." Aurora graciously stood up and offered her hand. "Cordelia Chase. Wesley Wyndam-Price. So glad to finally meet you. My name is Aurora Halley. Kalderash."
*Of course, she knows them.* Eight years of being around him, she had to have known almost everyone he came across. Everyone he ever knew in that time. The look on her face, it was like recognition sparked in her.
Cordelia and Wesley gripped her hand, both surprised as their names came up.
"Kalderash?" Wesley went.
"You know my name?" Cordelia exclaimed. "Was it from the Clearall commercial? 'Cause I was there, you know, the girl in the back in the end. That was my hair."
"Huh?" Aurora paused. "Oh yes, you're an actress. Right. No, I haven't seen the commercial. Sorry."
"You're Jenny Calendar's relative." Ever the intellectual, Wesley was currently putting it all together in his head.
The name, however, hit Cordelia another way. Angel could see the shudder ripple through her, a genuine chill she hadn't felt in a long time. "Miss Calendar?" She sobered up a bit, and sat down. "What...what are you here for? Does it have to do with Angel's soul?"
The change in Cordelia's mood was so quick and sudden that everyone in the room paused to give her space.
Something painful twitched in Angel when it occurred to him that Cordelia was remembering. She always maintained an air of detachment -- flippance, almost -- about the events in high school, but he could see there were some things she'd rather not recall.
"Are you all right, Cordelia?" Wesley sat down on the couch next to her.
She flashed a smile, as if to brighten the memory away. "No, it's just... I remember... the picture. Angelus drew a picture of Miss Calendar's..." Cordelia cleared her throat. "Anyway. Ancient history. That time I was a cheerleader and could afford Prada. Time passes."
"So, Aurora," Wesley interjected, "If your family is ... well, they can't really be happy with what Angelus has done ... why are you here?"
She exchanged a look with Angel. "I have to tell them, don't I."
"I trust them with my life, Aurora. You'll need them as well."
She nodded and turned to Wesley. "I'm here because I've always been here. I was with Angel in New York, in Sunnydale, now in LA. That's why I know you, I know all of you."
"You stalked him?" Cordelia said.
"In a manner of speaking. To make a long story... oh whatever. Let's just say that the Kalderash family is divided on how to treat Angel, the family has been that way since the beginning. On one hand Angel was considered the family's biggest nightmare, and yet he was also their biggest... um, success."
"Success?" Wesley looked at Angel, noticing how he seemed to already know the whole story. Poker faced as usual.
"Aside from being involved in magics, the Kalderash, well then at least, were also very spiritual, very involved in different religions. While others believe that Angel's soul restoration was the ultimate act of vengeance on our part, others thought more out of the box and saw it as the perfect opportunity for his redemption."
"Redemption?" Wesley repeated to himself. "Why would your family care about his redemption?"
"I don't know where and when the idea began, but it became enough. The punishment. What mattered eventually was that here was a demon, with strength, skill, and a soul, who could eventually become the greatest champion for the good." Aurora let her words sink in before laughing a little. "It sounds hokey, but at some point in our history someone got that idea."
"And you're part of that family branch." Wesley said.
Aurora nodded. "Yes. Vengeance can only heal you so much, actually... that's wrong. It sates you but leaves you empty. What we've learned thus far is that forgiveness is what heals the victim, redemption heals the ... the abuser. And that's not just Hallmark-card cheese, I truly do believe that." Her eyes turned to Angel just then, full of genuine caring. "I wouldn't be here if I didn't."
Wesley remembered his original question. "That brings to that then. Why you're here."
"To ensure Angel lives long enough to... to redeem himself, someone in my family is called to help him. He has no greater enemy -- he is a demon, he is strong, he can take care of himself. The only thing that can actually take his life is his despair. That's what the person who is called does, anyway. We're equipped with, um, abilities. To sense his despair, and we're given the means to help keep him alive."
"So you have powers then?" Wesley asked.
Aurora nodded. "All kinds. Magic. Strength. The most basic of them being, I can sense Angel's despair. That's kind of essential, so we know when to intervene."
"How do you... how would that be done, anyway? I'm very curious."
"It has something to do with..." Aurora held up her hand. "May I, Angel?"
He was still sitting in the couch across from her. "Uh, sure. OK."
Without moving from her chair, Aurora squinted a little, concentrating. Her open palm faced Angel's chest. And then from her palm, emanated a soft green glow again, not brighter than most light bulbs, but shining and mesmerizing still.
Cordelia sucked in her breath. "Wow."
He didn't feel a thing. What was he expecting to feel, though, all warm inside? This was how she had gotten through all this time without being detected... she literally looked into his soul for eight years and he didn't feel a thing.
He wondered about her all of a sudden. Devoted her life to a thankless task.
"Hope. It's what makes the glow." Aurora flicked her fingers and the green light was gone. "The softer the glow, the more in despair Angel is. At some point I'm supposed to intervene, when he is seriously becoming... suicidal. My other power is very tricky. I can do so many things, heal, fly, mind-read... but only on two conditions: to save my life, or to save Angel's. The saving my life part's pretty easy, one time I was mugged in New York and I easily beat the guy to unconsciousness, I suddenly learned kung fu or something. For saving Angel, though, the process is a lot more big picturey and I don't necessarily get it."
"This evening she healed a staked vampire." Angel said.
Aurora could see the protest forming in Wesley and Cordelia's mouths. "Yes, but that's what I was supposed to do. I can't heal anything on a whim, I was able to because it was what I was supposed to do. For you, Angel. I swear, I don't go around medicating the already dead."
Cordelia raised her hand, like she was in class. "OK. With you so far. You're here to help him out. You stalked him for... for how long?"
"Eight years."
"OK. You've got that cool glowy suicide meter. But how would healing a vamp help Angel?"
Aurora was stumped. "I don't know. These things... they just come to me. In my head. I don't really question them."
"Visions?" Cordelia perked up at the possibility of a soul sister.
"More like dreams. In metaphors and all, but very specific."
"And what other deeds have you done for Angel? To rescue him from despair." Wesley asked.
She looked up at Angel, drawing in her breath tentatively.
He knew what she was going to say. He'd seen what she'd done, when she had touched him. It was like he was remembering everything now, correctly, as she was recounting her story. His life had flashed before his eyes and he knew what she was going to say.
"She introduced me to Buffy." he said softly.
Cordelia recoiled. "Hoo-what?"
Wesley did too, but not as wildly. "But you were approached by a demon named Whistler, Angel..." He turned to Aurora, the pieces all falling together in his head. "And you in turn approached Whistler. Angel was ... was loitering about in New York. Starving. At the end of his rope. You wanted to give him a purpose."
She smiled. "Actually I was young. That whole purpose thing was incidental. All I wanted him to do was start dating, maybe it'll get him to take a shower once in a while."
"But it worked," Wesley caught on quickly. "You gave Angel a reason to be alive, until..."
"Until he got too happy and started the killing spree." Cordelia finished for him. "You must have gotten a lot of flak for that. I mean, it was your idea after all. Didn't they warn you not to give him too much of a happy?"
"I didn't know that would happen! It was almost perfect, the curse. They designed it to be that cruel, that unkind. Because perfect happiness is unattainable, or at least many philosophies would tell us so. Angel, it turns out, is not like any other. And yes, I got a tremendous amount of flak for it. But I never regretted that decision, because being with her gave him more hope and love than any human being gets in a normal lifetime and feeling that in him ... it wasn't worth the trouble it caused, but I'm glad that's what he'll remember. He'll always have that."
And then Angel felt guilty. Was it possible that he really owed this stranger this much? She had done her job and watched over him for most of her adult life, and yet he knew nothing about it. There was a ... familiarity with which she treated them, the way she talked to Wesley and Cordelia -- not being surprised at his scholarly interrogations, not fazed by her colorful side comments.
"If I'm to understand this, your whole calling relies on Angel not knowing you are there to... protect him." Wesley added suddenly.
Aurora nodded, a little sheepishly. "Well, yeah."
"I would guess cloaking spells?"
"Yes. Several. They don't all work 24/7, so most of the time the MO is just to not introduce myself into Angel's life."
"And what's changed now?"
"I don't know." Aurora touched her throat, bruised from Angel's earlier chokehold. "He knew. He just... came at me in that alley. I knew he was there, so it was no big, but he said he knew me and that was just weird."
"Oh, Angel attacked you because of me." Cordelia volunteered. "Looks like not a lot of people understood that vision of mine."
"And I'm not the only one after her." Angel said. "That I found out about her at all means the cloaking spells are weakening."
"Why? Who else could be after you?" Wesley asked.
"The other side of the family," Aurora said. "Needless to say, they're not happy that their own kind is turning against them. We hide not just from Angel but from them also. They try to find out who we are, and they... well, former protectors of Angel have never been heard from again."
"Oh. And yet in one night three people found out about your true identity." Wesley observed. "That doesn't go well for you."
"It doesn't."
"I think you should stay here tonight." Angel offered. "The room next to mine's empty."
"It's OK, I've done the danger thing before, Angel."
"Not with me knowing about it. I can take you back to your place tomorrow, tonight you stay here." He was firm now, being the boss. She buckled.
"OK." she said softly.
====
The Acquisitions Department was on the fifteenth floor, and it had the floor all to itself because of the considerable storage space the department consumed.
Because at Wolfram and Hart, Acquisitions didn't necessarily mean acquiring corporations.
The security issue had gotten a lot more complicated since Ralph had turned. Back in the day, the barcoded ID and the quick pass through the sentient guard got him through. But no, now that he was fanged, it was the ID, the cleansing spell so the anti-vampire alarm wouldn't clang, and finally the sentient guard. The cleansing spell was unpleasant and left him feeling funny, it wasn't the best thing to go through when you were feeling restless.
The combination was in his office. Also the file he had just filled out, which he had to consult because he couldn't remember what deposit box he put the thing in. Despite it being way past midnight lights were still on in different regions of the floor. Because a lot of Wolfram and Hart associates were dedicated to their jobs. Lived and breathed them.
Box 72-865. Great.
He had access to the storage area, so he had no problem doing his business there. It was an easy mission anyway -- go in, get the thing, use it, put it back.
Box 72-865 was in Storage Room 7. Ralph walked in and flipped on the lights.
"Ralph, we just got you that suit. You've ruined it already."
Ralph almost gasped. "Lindsey. Dammit, it's late. Go home or sleep or whatever it is that you do."
Lindsey McDonald, Wolfram and Hart junior partner, was knee deep in files taken from, apparently, Box 72-870. Ralph knew he was very human, but he never seemed to sleep. Or eat. Or leave the office.
"This *is* what I do," he said with a cocky smile. "What found its way into your suit?"
"A stake."
"Bad shot."
"Hell yeah." Ralph searched for his box and yanked it out of the wall lined with storage boxes. "It was that Angel."
At the name, Lindsey nodded in acknowledgement. His eyes burned with a remembered pain, but he didn't verbalize it. "He normally hits the bulls-eye the first time, Ralph. You must have squirmed or something."
"Yeah, bulls-eye. Like that fantastic job he did on your hand." Ralph worked the combination on the box, clumsily at first because of his restlessness. And then the lock gave, and he retrieved what he had come here for.
"A breadknife?" Lindsey observed as Ralph lifted the silver object from the box.
"The Feuralian Knife." Ralph held it up against the light. It was not much larger than the breadknives Lindsey was referring to. Intricate carving on its silver handle was handmade, dated around 1565. Its blade, the knife's most interesting feature, was not smooth at all. Also carved with very intricate designs, the blade was blessed by an entire order of monks in England in the 16th century. The knife was a classic, and Ralph had gone through paperwork hell to acquire it from the secluded monastery in the English countryside. Paperwork because he killed a whole lot of monks to get it, and he had to itemize each casualty with full accountability and detail and that was just too corporate for his taste.
"That's not wood, not going to work."
Ralph flashed the thing at Lindsey. "Oh it will work, eventually. After several hours of terminal, escalating pain."
"He must have hit a sore spot, that Angel. For you to pull out the big guns."
Ralph eyes burned with anger. "I lay on the ground and he watched me. He just watched me."
"May I ask how you got back here, without a stake in the wrong place on your chest?"
"A girl." Ralph was preoccupied now, returning the box to its shelf. "She took out the stake and healed me. Well, I got to go, Lindsey. Vicious murder planned and all."
Lindsey waved as Ralph closed the door behind him. Of course he knew about the Feuralian Knife. Once stabbed into the heart of a vampire it activates a process of slow, menacingly painful death, dusting the vamp from the inside, so slowly that he actually feels himself disintegrating. Ralph may have done the legwork on acquiring that artifact, but Lindsey had done his homework on it as well.
He doubted Ralph would succeed. Ralph was young, he didn't know the legend of Angelus as comprehensively as one who planned to kill him should. Lindsey knew Ralph wouldn't be back at work the next night.
But he said something about a girl. Who could heal vampires. Wasn't there a file on that somewhere? Lindsey shuffled through some papers and picked up the telephone.
====
The new information was just swirling around Wesley's head, so much that he couldn't sleep. Not even on the hotel lobby's sofa which he had always found quite comfortable.
When light began to sift into the hotel through the windows around 6 am, he stopped pretending to doze off and just stood up, careful not to disturb Cordelia softly breathing on the other couch.
He smelled coffee coming from the kitchen. Angel was in there making it.
"You didn't have to, Angel." Wesley said, taking a cup from out of the dish drainer.
He got a strange look in return. "It's for Aurora."
"Oh. I'm sure she won't mind if it's missing a cupful then." Wesley poured himself some and took his place on the kitchen table. He rotated the cup several times before tasting it. "Why aren't you asleep? You must have been up over twenty-four hours now."
"I don't really need that much rest anyway."
"True." And then the silence fell between them.
"I guess you want me to talk about last night."
"Do you believe her?"
He nodded solemnly. "I do. I believe she is what she says she is. It's like I remember her now, I see her in my memories."
"You don't think she's lying."
"No."
"You don't think she's been sent by... I don't know, Wolfram and Hart."
"No." The same firmness. "I remember her."
"Any good witch -- one from the Kalderash clan at that -- can work any kind of ... augmentation ritual on you."
Angel paused to think. "No. Wolfram and Hart... it doesn't make sense."
"Why not? You already have her in your home. Sleeping in the room next to yours. Your guard is down."
"It's not." Angel sat opposite Wesley on the table. "I do believe her, Wesley."
"OK. Just checking." He sipped his coffee -- much like one would sip tea, different thing altogether, though -- and noticed something. "You can't be that worried about her life, Angel. She's lived in this danger for eight years, she is at least knowledgeable in various survival skills."
"I'm bothered. By how I found out."
"Oh yes, you did, didn't you? You knew about her before she revealed herself to you."
"I forced her to reveal herself to me." Angel shook his head, still plagued by not knowing what it meant. "I had a dream about her. I mean, the dream. It revealed to me who she was."
"Have you always dreamed symbolically?"
"Not specifically. I have nightmares, comes with the territory. Except... except this turned out to be true. It was like --"
"-- a vision." Wesley hypothesized. Interesting.
He couldn't bring himself to say it, and seemed to be glad that Wesley took upon the initiative.
"I was thinking about this all night as well. I personally think the Powers are involved in this."
"The Powers?" Angel had obviously considered this already, but was waiting for Wesley's take on it.
So he went right on it. "I believe her also, and I think she -- and her kind -- are instruments of the Powers. They may call them by another name, but I believe that's the call they respond to. The Powers need the vampire with a soul for the coming terrors, and your protectors are there to make sure you make it to that day. It fits. It makes sense."
"It doesn't explain why I would find out."
"That's right. Your finding out ... it weakens their effectivity, really. From now on you will recognize their attempts at keeping you from despair and if you are truly in that state you will refuse their help. It's not wise for you to know they exist." Wesley shook his head at this one. "This is why you're worried about her."
"I don't know what to do with her, Wesley."
====
One of the bad things about sleeping on the couch in the Hyperion Hotel lobby was that it was surrounded by a lot of windows and at a certain time of day sunlight just hits you right in the face.
That time of day was usually seven a.m., much to Cordelia's dismay.
She tried to swat the sunlight from her eyes -- no such luck though -- so she rolled over and tried to face away from the source. Her eyes opened a bit and she saw Aurora sitting on the other couch, the one Wesley had taken, fully awake and looking at her.
"Jeez!" Cordelia exclaimed, startled. "You really do have this stalking thing down, don't you?"
She smiled. "Sorry. I just woke up, was supposed to go to the kitchen but Angel and Wesley were talking about me. I didn't want to intrude."
"Oh yes, well, when those two gossip you can't get a word in edgewise anyway." Cordelia stretched herself into a sitting position and breathed in the smell of coffee brewing. "So... did you get one of those vision dreams of yours last night?"
"No," Aurora replied. "They don't come as regularly as they used to."
"Do they feel like your head is being pounded by a very large blunt object?"
"No, they're just dreams."
"Oh. I got gypped." Cordelia sighed. "My visions come like amazingly angry little men with wooden sticks that just start marching around and vandalizing property in my head, you know what I mean? It's not pretty at all. I can't believe Doyle stuck me with this."
"Well, he always thought you were special."
It was like Cordelia had been struck in the face, only she crumpled at the blow and didn't strike back as she normally would. "What did you say?"
"Doyle. He always thought you were --"
"You -- you knew Doyle?" Suddenly she understood how blown away Angel was with the knowledge that this girl knew almost every aspect of his life. It was like she was there, an extra person in the room they never saw or heard. "Did you ... was it your idea to send Doyle to Angel? To be his vision guy?"
"Not my idea. That was Doyle's destiny, not Angel's. But I knew him because ... well, similar workplace and all. We'd compare notes and stuff. We'd talk about you all the time."
It would have been almost a year by now, but the sadness just seemed to always come up no matter how hard she tried to purge it. Sometimes she thought she would never get over it, that she should nurture the sadness left by Doyle's death. But sometimes she felt guilty that she was hanging on to what might have been. Like Doyle loving her.
He kind of said he did, that last night, but it was such an intense experience. He was about to sacrifice his life and all. People don't really get to clarify their statements after that.
The tears just welled up, all of a sudden. She didn't cry over Doyle anymore, not after this long.
"I'm sorry," Aurora said quickly. "He knew it was his time, Cordelia. He was punishing himself for something he'd done and that night he found his redemption. I believe he knew it was his time."
Cordelia brushed the tears off, no big. "Yeah, well, there are lots of other things to live for than counting your sins. He didn't have a chance to know that." She wasn't angry anymore, or wounded, just sad.
Aurora sighed. "You're absolutely right."
"I am?"
"People like him and me, we walk around like this is the only thing we have in our lives. And that becomes true, we get too into it that we forget -- how to do other things."
"Yeah, well..." And Cordelia stopped there, realizing that the sadness appeared on the other side of the fence too. "What did the Irish man say about me?"
"Oh, at first it was all whining. What should he do to make you notice him, blah blah. He said he got nothing but snappy retorts." Aurora smiled at the memory. "I told him if your relationship with Xander Harris was any indication, he was on the right track."
"Xander -- oh yeah, you know Xander. This is so weird. It's like we went to high school together, only I never talked to you or anything. Which could have really happened, you know, because I was a cheerleader."
*She knows so much about me*, Cordelia realized again, the implications of it kicking into her seven a.m. head. How she and Xander broke up. The accident where she got impaled. Graduation day. And when Angel turned.
"You have all this power to help Angel and stuff. How come you didn't use it?" she asked all of a sudden. "I mean, after Angel got all evil. Your magic people could have passed you a note about putting his soul back in, right?"
She paused to think, not at all taken aback by Cordelia's candor. "I don't think they knew how. They'd been trying to retrieve the curse for almost a century, but the people who knew it had been murdered and eventually the language died. Only Jenny was able to successfully get a close enough translation for it to work..." She drifted off for a second. "And when Angel lost his soul, I lost my powers. At times it was like he... disappeared. I couldn't feel him anymore, couldn't sense him. Couldn't connect to him."
"What did you do the whole time he was bad?"
"Hung out. I was pretty much unemployed. Of course stalling the going home bit, because I knew I was gonna get chewed on. And I did. But they couldn't really blame me because no one saw it coming. And then Angel somehow reemerged from hell, so I went back to work."
Even though she said it was "work", Aurora spoke with the pride of someone who truly loved her calling. Cordelia could see the eyes lighting up at the memories. She herself never spoke about her visions like that. Even Doyle, for all his inherent goodness, seemed to take it as a punishment for a wrong, a cross he had to bear. Not this girl.
"Are you in love with Angel?" she blurted out.
For all Aurora's non-surprise at her sudden topic shifts, this one threw her off a little.
But she must be at least a little smitten.
Aurora chose her words carefully. Or not. "I do love him. He's the best and worst thing that's ever happened to me. Sometimes I think when I grow old and look back he's the only one I'll remember, and be proud of."
"But you're not in love with him?"
"There won't be any soul-losing, that's for sure."
"It doesn't bother you that he didn't even know you existed? I mean, you're giving the best years of your life to him."
"I actually didn't think about it until last night. When he actually talked to me. Well, grabbed me and threw me against the wall is closer to the truth." Aurora touched her neck, still bruised from Angel's hold, and looked at Cordelia. "What's it like? Being his friend. Being around him."
Oh the things she could have said. Being around Angel the past year, she'd known him a lot more than she did when they were in Sunnydale. Cordelia sometimes hoped his opinion of her had changed in that time. It wasn't always fun -- they'd had their share of scares and sometimes she was sure he thought she was a nuisance, but...
"Same here." Cordelia said, with conviction. "He is by far the best thing to happen to me."
The two girls looked at each other and let that realization sink in. Cordelia saw the hope in her eyes, and she knew she shouldn't feel sad for Aurora but she did. While Cordelia felt almost the same pride and love for her tortured boss, her care and concern was at least reciprocated.
Angel stepped out into the lobby. "Aurora," he said. "I made coffee for you."
Aurora smiled, but Cordelia caught the tail end of a sigh there. "Thanks. I'd love that."