My Documentsfanficnetfbu04 The Road Before Us
By Misty Flores
Email: mistiec_flores@yahoo.com, mistyjox@hotmail.com
Series: the Winters Trilogy – but purposely written so it could also be a standalone
Rating: R
Genre: Angel/Cordelia – Buffy/Angel and Cordelia/Xander implied
Teaser: Years after the death of their true loves, a lonely Cordelia and Angel reunite to stop a new nemesis, and find themselves fighting a mutual attraction as they cling to the memories of their mortal lovers.
Crossover: Sorta. Highlander – but seriously, you do NOT need to be familiar with that.

* additional notes on previous parts

--

The Road Before Us - Chapter Four
--

Terence Jacobs was by nature a mild mannered, passive man. In the war-torn environment, he had remained calm, quiet, rising above on his own on account of his wisdom, and points of observation.

He took his job quite seriously, and despite the rule of non interference, he felt that no one on earth knew his own assigned Immortal quite as well as he did.

She awoke in the morning and worked with her sword for an hour, all the while talking in her little earpiece to the different branches of her franchises. Then it was a long, luxurious bath, and for that he envied her. Water was a luxury she could afford to waste, and the splashes he heard and the bubbles he had found the last time he had snuck in were a testament to that.

Hair shorter than it ever was, it made her look older, blonde streaks doing only a bit to change her look. She wore more white than black, another testament to her wealth, and it seemed that Chase Winters had finally come to accept and grow into her position.

There were no ties, like the ones that had held her back for so long, she had never married another mortal and she had never returned to her small town – and now, he felt he was witnessing a rebirth.

He had never experienced another Chase Winters, but the reports from the two watchers before him had been clear: they were fond of a softer Chase. This Chase he had yet to meet, and it intrigued him.

An alarming sense of wonder had pervaded over him when the vampire with the soul came back into her life – on her birthday, of all ironies, and he had tailed them both, aware that something was about to happen.

Chase Winters was about to get sucked back into being Cordelia Chase – something that could prove fatal in the coming End Game. Cordelia Chase was weaker, had a bigger heart, and gave more mercy than Chase Winters, and mercy was the last thing that an Immortal needed to give when fighting against much older Immortals, with much more experience.

So far, Chase had been lucky, and as much as Terence hated to admit it, he was on the edge of his toes, waiting for her luck to run out.

Sucked in she was, and the motive was clear, when out of the blue, the vampire completely broke the rules and now had him banging against the wall, causing a rather incredible amount of pain.

"ANGEL!" Chase grabbed her partner by the hand, pulling him away slightly and easing the choking somewhat. "He's kinda turning blue!"

"Sorry." The vampire faced him again, as the fangs dripped and caused what Terence supposed was quite a familiar reaction, considering. "You were saying?"

He swallowed, managed to get some air into his windpipe and tried to speak again. "I'm not allowed. Chase knows the rules."

"Ah yes, the rules." Chase crossed her arms, pretended to think. "The whole non interference thing. Gee. You are aware that a vampire is holding you by your throat, right?"

"It's rather obvious."

"Just checking."

"Please, Ms. Winters-"

"Her name's Cordelia."

"Angel!"

"I'm not allowed to interfere!"

"So don't interfere! Just tell us what that other Watcher dude told you."

"What she said," said the vampire, his demonic face quite ferocious looking. Which, he gathered, was the whole point.

"What's going on here?"

Oh, thank God.

Terence turned, nodded stiffly to his comrade. "Hello, Mr. Bellows. So nice to see you again."

Mr. Bellows was older, forty, or fifty, and he did a much better job at looking only mildly bothered by the Immortal and the Vampire who were intruding on his personal space.

"Mr. Bellows this is Angel and you already know Ms. Winters."

"Mr. Bellows, Katherine's watcher, right?"

Mr. Bellows merely raised an eyebrow. "Been talking to Duncan, have you?"

"Huh?"

"Very few people know we watch."

"Yeah, well that's because the majority of our type are idiots," she shot back, sighing. "Look. Katherine's in trouble."

"Yes, I know," he answered mildly.

That made Angel release his grip on Terence's throat, and for that he was thankful, taking the time to regain the air in the passage, and straighten his tie.

"Where is she?"

"I don't know."

"You don't know?" Angel seethed, stepping intimidatingly closer to Mr. Bellows.

"The Vampire with a Soul," he remarked instead, an offhand observation. "I was not aware you and Ms. Winters were so close."

"Oh, we go way back. But you know that, so stop acting stupid." Terence tried his best to move to the side, but instead was caught by the tie by one feminine gloved hand. "You're not going anywhere, Mr. Watcher dude."

"Terence."

"Huh?"

"I'd rather you call me Terence."

"Mr. Jacobs if you would refrain from speaking directly to your Immortal," Mr. Bellows said briskly, and Terence colored slightly.

"Yes sir."

Mr. Bellows then focused his attention onto Angelus, hands behind his back as he said briskly, "You had a vision of my Katherine, have you?"

Terence and Chase both gave each other a semi-shocked look.

Angel only paused, looked back at Chase, and then briskly nodded to Mr. Bellows.

"I see." Mr. Bellows was quiet, and finally he nodded, breathing out. He then turned, regarding Chase, and asked in an almost monotone voice, "You are helping him?"

"Gee – how did you make THAT landmark observation?" was her cutting reply, but when he only cocked an eyebrow, she also just nodded.

Mr. Bellows was quiet, and finally he took a breath, squaring his shoulders. "Katherine was taken by Nick, from what I can gather, if my information is correct."

"Nick?"

"Her old husband."

"I thought he was dead."

"He is."

Terence had to give the vampire credit, he put the pieces together just a bit faster than Ms. Winters did.

A cloud of somberness covered his face, the demon face receded into the handsome human one, and he looked away, shoulders slumping slightly.

"But if he's dead then why-"

"He's a vampire, Cordelia," he said, his voice raspy, and a little angry.

"Oh." There was no emotion in the response. "Yikes."

"I tried to follow to where they had taken her, but I'm at a loss. She's alive, for now. But I don't know where she is. I can say no more."

Chase sighed. "Look buddy if this is about the whole 'interfering' crap, chances are I won't be alive at the end of the Endgame ANYWAY, so no harm, no foul, okay?"

Terence gave her a look of shock, his chest flooding with concern, the vampire almost mimicking his movement, as the intense brown eyes focused on Chase's.

But he received not even a passing glance, Chase having only eyes for Mr. Bellows.

"I'm afraid that is all I know."

Terence watched as the vampire and his own Immortal, who was quite cheeky looking even up close, gave each other a look.

Mr. Bellows cocked his head. "I suggest you find some cover, Angel."

"Huh?"

He pointed upwards. "Sun… it will rise… in about fifteen minutes."

"Oh."

"Come on," Cordelia grabbed his arm, pulling him away. "My flat isn't far from here."

Mr. Bellows nodded, and Terence squared his shoulders, moving to stand by the older Watcher.

He watched with a curiously shuddering heart when the Immortal paused, looked back. "Thanks."

Mr. Bellows only smiled, nodded his head courteously, and the Immortal and the Vampire walked away.

Terence shifted, cleared his throat.

"Yes, Mr. Jacobs?"

"I … was under the impression that we were not to interfere."

Mr. Bellows gave him a cold look, and finally just turned. "No one interfered, Mr. Jacobs. Did you see anyone interfering?"

He gave his older comrade a smile, not sure of the other's intentions, but perfectly happy to agree. "No, Mr. Bellows, I saw no one interfere."

He nodded shortly. "Then I suggest we follow them."

"We?"

"Well I can't very well be a watcher without my own Immortal to watch, can I? If they lead us to Katherine so be it."

--

Katherine was only aware that exhaustion had taken her, when she woke up. Her eyes flew open, her breath heaved inward, and she found herself staring directly into the face of Nick.

For a moment, she could do nothing but stare, as her hands and feet, now bound spread eagled against the bedpost, made it impossible to do anything but thrust her hips, and Nick's heavy body was straddling her, erasing that option.

There was no fear, as her dark blue eyes gazed into his, and her mind refused to click with what had already registered – this was not Nick – this was a vampire.

But the dark hair was the same, soft and whispy, falling into his face. The smile he gave her, full of love and eternity, was devastatingly familiar, and the eyes…

Nick's eyes…

Her heart gave a tug, her eyes watered, and completely joy mixed with utter sadness as she was caught between fear, and completely relief.

"Nick," she breathed, chest gasping with breath.

He was somber, as he looked down, hand trailing from her neck to between her cleavage, watching as her breasts moved up and down.

"I forgot how beautiful it was," he said, almost wistfully. "To sit and watch you breathe."

"Nick…"

"Do you know why I did it?" he asked, almost talking to himself as he continued to caress her body, worshiping her with tender touches. "I didn't understand then… I thought I could live forever. I knew.. you wouldn't let me do it, always so damn self sacrificing." He gave a small smirk. "Do you know, that I actually thought you were tired of me? That you were looking forward to when I died so you could live your own life?" He swallowed, his voice deceptively sad. "I didn't know… I'm sorry."

"Nick, what are you doing?"

"I thought about seeing you – after it happened." He grinned then, almost at the memory. "You were in so much pain – and I realized why I never did it. Never saw you. I wanted to see you suffer."

Katherine swallowed, her chest now constricted, and she was drowning in his eyes – her Nick's beautiful eyes who was talking about suffering like it was something beautiful.

And it was… she could see it. It was beautiful to him.

"The pain, Katherine. The pain was like a drug." He smiled, and eased off of her, sliding down to stretch his length against her, face now buried into her shoulder, breathing her in. "Tell me something, Katherine. Every guy you fucked after I was gone… were you thinking of them or me?"

Her eyes closed as a single tear slipped down her cheek.

"I can feel your heart beating, Katherine," he whispered in her ear, hands now moving over a breast, kneading lightly. "I can smell the blood in your veins. It's never been so intoxicating before. I'm sorry. I forgot what it was like to hold you, to touch you. But I remembered. And I'm here now. And I can smell your fear."

The prick in her neck was pain made her gasp, and suddenly the lightheaded feeling came, as she heard him sucking noisily.

God.

And she closed her eyes, and let one more tear slip.

"I can finish it," he whispered. "I can make it last forever."

And for what seemed the millionth time, Katherine wished it would all just end.

--

The door was opened rather hastily, and Angel burst in, past Cordelia, sighing as he was met with the refuge of the flat.

"Hold on, let me close the blinds. Watchers will lose the free show but what the hell." Tossing her entry circuit card, along with her data pad, onto a nearby mantle, she ran to the windows, hurriedly closing them. "Do me a favor, turn on that lamp, will you?"

Angel turned toward the general direction she pointed, and found a small niche and obediently spoke into it. "Lights."

The room lit up immediately, and Angel watched as Cordelia pressed a lever, and the blinds obediently eased down with a barely audible mechanical whir.

For someone as financially stable as Cordelia, these were modest surroundings. Tastefully bare, Cordelia had the essential flatscreen embedded in the fourth wall, the large leather couch and desk both facing it.

Hardwood floor, purposely cleared middle floor where he imagined she spent many afternoons on the mat that was tucked into the corner.

A dark, black iron curved stair case leading up to the bedroom. Probably the most intimate of the house.

"Done inspecting?" she asked, almost amused, pulling out the tiny earpiece and settling it in it's place next to the tiny computer.

"It's nice."

"Simple. I don't spend a lot of time here – and every time I try to decorate SOMETHING comes up. I've given up being En Vogue a long time ago. I'm really the only one here, anyway." He frowned as she turned, pulling off the cloak and placing the sword in its place on the mantle, resting Katherine's sword next to it. "Come on, Angel, make yourself at home… kinda. You promise to stay good?"

"Cordelia…"

"Kidding! Geez." She kicked off her shoes, moving toward the bedroom as she sighed, stretching and running fingers through her short hair.

He stayed put, fists dug into his trenchcoat.

This was turning into an odd, and semi awkward reunion. He hadn't sure exactly what he had been expecting when he walked back into Cordelia's life, but … somehow… this wasn't it.

Never quite sure what their relationship was, to say friends would have been too casual, to would have said family was too severe, Angel had had to settle for 'casual acquaintances' when he had to explain his reason for following Cordelia to London to Travis. The seer had adamantly argued that Angel was a 'big stupid bimbo' (his exact words) for going without him, but Angel had maintained this needed to be done alone.

He knew Cordelia resented him for leaving – he knew that she would have blamed him for going through the disintegration of everything they had loved alone.

And she knew that in the end, even a little bit still blamed himself, and to an extent, her, for what happened to Buffy.

An uncomfortable knot in his throat arose, as she came back down the stairs, faltering at seeing him in the exact position she had left him in.

"Geez. Act like a statue why don't you."

"I'm just… taking things in…" his statement faltered as he looked behind her, and curious, she looked back as he walked past her.

Sitting on a table in the corner of the room were several old fashioned portraits, carefully encased in plastic.

With a carefully closed expression, Angel traced the frame with his fingertips.

He felt her warm presence next to him, as she let out a soft sigh, a wine glass in her hand as she regarded the pictures.

She said nothing as he lifted up a particular one, of a vampire with a smile on his face, holding in his lap a small whisp of a girl who looked like she weighed no more than a doll.

"Where did you get this?"

"Duh. Buffy. Before she… you know… croaked." Clearing her throat, she took the picture back, setting it in it's place in the mantle.

Angel's brow furrowed, biting his lip as he continued to look over the images. There was Willow, a grey streak in her hair as she leaned against a younger redheaded man wearing glasses. There was Xander, holding a young Chinese girl, their adopted daughter, he remembered, hoisting her high in the air, the sunlight beaming from around him. There was Giles, in his wheelchair, looking old and frail and wise.

"How did you end up in England?"

He didn't look at her as he asked, but he heard the uncertain pause, before she said hesitantly, "I took care of Giles… he was the last to… he held on for a while… I just took care of him." Grimly she turned away from the pictures, waving her flask at a large bookshelf of old books less than ten feet away. "Left me with his musty book collection, too. Woohoo."

Moving away, she sat on the couch, not caring to look at him as she curled her feet under her, reaching for her ear piece.

The pictures were haunting, moments frozen in time. He hadn't seen them, truly seen them, in more than a hundred years. Never more than lurking in the shadows, watching from afar, demon spies and snitches as his eyes and ears.

"Angel get away from there," she finally said, setting her glass down, hazel eyes flickering over him. "We don't have time."

He ignored her, instead looking up, fingers reaching to touch the framed portrait on the wall, of Willow and her child, seated next to Buffy, and a smiling Cordelia.

"Angel."

Family. Happiness and memories of living he had forgotten. Years and he had learned to smile again, a century and he had learned to laugh again, but there had been peace in his heart, at this time he had almost forgotten what he was.

"You never forgot, did you?"

"Forget what?"

"What you were."

She was quiet. "Angel get away from those portraits. We don't have time."

"Why?"

"What?"

"Why don't we have time?" he turned, almost violently as he glared, his dead body almost feverish with emotion. "Shit, Cordelia. You had TIME with them – you have memories that I don't have-"

"Do you deserve them, Angel?" her voice was bitter, hard, as she narrowed her eyes at him, watching him from over her flask of wine. "Yes I have memories. Yes I saw Willow's son grow and yes I saw my adopted son have children. Yes I got to spend ten years with my husband before the Hellmouth got him too, but you know what else I got? Every day, looking at Buffy's grave. I got to see Willow get Alzheimer's and whither away and I was the one that got to find Oz with a silver bullet in his chest – just before I got to kill the hunter who was after his damn pelt." He swallowed, but she stood, her voice shaking only slightly as she continued. "I got to sit in a hospital for days before I finally decided to pull the plug on my husband who died of a coma, and I got to be introduced to MY grandchildren as the family friend Chase. MY GRANDCHILDREN, Angel."

She crossed her arms, looking away, trying to contain the very visible rage that consumed her. "What were you doing, Angel? Saving souls? You ran – so I got the memories, all of them. They're mine."

A low growl came from him. Selfish – damn selfish.

"What the hell about all the times before, Cordelia, huh? Leaving your birthday party? Willow's baby being born? Buffy-"

"Don't do it. Don't blame me for that," she snapped coming closer, hazel eyes flashing vividly. "I couldn't help it."

"Then what makes you think *I* COULD?!"

The chime through the flat startled them both, and Cordelia's jaw tightened as she moved, back, away from him, toward the door.

"What?"

"Delivery for Ms. Winters?"

She flicked her hand, the door immediately vanished, and the polarizing changed so she could see outside. Sure enough, there was a deliveryboy, holding a parchment paper bag.

With a jerk she opened the door, grabbed it. "Thanks – charge the regular account."

Closed again, she moved away from the door, and thrust the bag into his hands. "Go to bed. We'll find Katherine when the sun comes down. Take the couch."

As she walked up the stairs, Angel looked down at the bag.

He didn't have to open it to know what it was.

Blood. Fresh from the butcher. Not pig's, but richer.

Cow.

--

"BUFFY!"

Oh, God. Oh, God.

He ran, as fast as he could, bloodied hand slipping against the railings as he tried to clamor up, heart in his throat as his wound at his side tore open even more, and he paid no attention.

Flailing helplessly, tears stinging in his eyes, his black shoes slipped, and the steel poles banged into his chin as he fell back, gravel biting into his back, biting his tongue with the impact.

He tried again, but again he slipped and he couldn't get up, there was too much blood – too much blood – he was bathed in it and there was too much and he couldn't get up-

Too slippery – but Buffy was up there and Buffy was fighting alone and-

"BUFFY!"

A charge of white lightning, the air around him charged with magnetic disturbance and his throat was dry, making his next cry almost soundless as he watched the body fall.

Like a feather, he watched, and his whole body jolted in a cry of complete and utter despair when it hit.

One second of shock, two, and suddenly his limbs found life and he moved, over the rocks and gravel and fallen cement, stumbling and falling and getting up again.

He didn't hear the limo as it pulled up, didn't see the other person who ran, sword gleaming.

There was only Buffy, on the ground, body broken and crippled-

"Oh, God, no. NO. NO NO NO- " He hitched in his breath, vision blurred with tears as everything inside him ached and screamed, and it couldn't be her. He couldn't touch her, for fear it would make it real and he only watched, with wide open eyes as the brunette stumbled to a stop, tossing the sword aside.

"Oh, God. Buffy! Oh, GOD NO –"

A growl and a howl and suddenly he was screaming at the world, eyes toward the sky with fists clenched, before his knees gave out and he buckled, falling to the earth, ridges coming to his face as he howled, pushing away the boy and the redhead, and gathering his broken lover, thinking if he held her together, she might just work.

"Angel-" Her grip was strong as she tried to touch him. He growled, lunged at her with snapping fangs.

"Cordy-"

"Xander let me-"

"Look at him-"

"I DON'T CARE."

He nuzzled his nose into her blonde hair, whimpering and crying, holding him to her like a wounded animal, and there was so much blood-

She wasn't dead.

"Angel-"

She wasn't dead.

"Angel-"

She wasn't dead-

"Angel-"

"SHE'S NOT DEAD!" he growled, holding her closer, scooting into the corner, keeping her still. "GO away!"

The brunette had tears streaming from her eyes as she took in an unsteady breath. "Let her go, Angel. She's gone."

"She's NOT- FUCK YOU CORDELIA."

"Angel-"

"Where the hell were you!"

She flinched, but he only saw Buffy, and he continued to hold her, and nuzzle her and whimper until the soft hand fell to the ground and he saw it.

Lifeless fingers.

Dead fingers.

Oh, God.

He dropped the body, moving away in horror, arms raising above his head as he looked down in disbelief.

That wasn't Buffy. Buffy wasn't dead. She only looked like Buffy – Buffy was still up there…

He moved to the railing, and strong hands tried to keep him from going up and he growled, punching at them, felt the flesh as he hit it, hard.

"Angel-"

"She's up there!"

"Angel-"

"LET ME GO!"

"She's DEAD, Angel-"

And he snapped, falling away from the railing to grab onto the brunette, swinging her into the railing, growling and seething, holding her with claws that drew blood.

"SHUT UP."

"Angel, I'm sorry," Her body was shaken, her lips were cut and bruised from his strikes, but her eyes were wounded and dead. "I'm so sorry. I'm sorry-"

And he froze, turning as Xander knelt over Buffy – over Buffy's dead body-

Oh, God.

"Angel, I'm sorry…"

"No…" he whispered, and suddenly he was sobbing, collapsing against the Immortal as she held him tight, sobbing with him, clinging to him, and she was here now-

"Where the hell were you when she needed you?" he growled suddenly, and she froze, and he swallowed, and pulled away and stumbled back, yellow eyes glaring into the dark hazel, before he turned, hiding in the depths of the night –

The beast – the animal – had just lost his heart and his soul.

--

The hands at his arms spurred him into immediate action, even as he woke, growling as he pushed, grabbed, and opened his eyes to find himself pinning Cordelia onto the couch.

"Uh…"

She cocked an eyebrow, and when he looked at her uncertainly, she moved, hooking a knee between them, twisting, and tossing him off the sofa.

"Note to self: Never interrupt a vampire when he's having nightmares. Geez."

He lay on his back, dazed, and blinking away the vestiges of sleep. She took in a very audible breath, leaning over, studying him, and pressing a mug of warm red liquid into his hand.

"What the hell was that?"

He swallowed, sitting up, rubbing at his head as she kneeled next to him. "Sorry."

"Bad dream."

"Something like that."

She studied him, nodded. "Yeah I couldn't sleep either. Being near you … brings up old…"

"Memories."

"Yeah. Some not altogether pleasant."

His hands were shaking as he took a quick gulp, rubbing hands through his mussed hair as he tried to shake away the images.

She turned, curling up into the corner of the sofa, holding a cup of steaming liquid of her own. Silence followed, as he pushed himself to his feet, falling into the other side of the couch, gulping down the rest of the blood.

She was quiet, and he took a deep breath, for the calming factor, rubbing absently against his bare chest, shuddering slightly.

Finally he looked up, thick tongued, rasping, "Do you dream about them?"

"Every night since she died. Every time I lost one of them the dreams got worse."

He nodded, taking in another noisy breath.

His hands clenched around the mug, watching the fireplace that glowed in front of him.

She remained quiet, hazel eyes pinned on him as she watched as he continued to gasp.

"Talk."

"What?"

"Talk. You look like you're about to burst."

"I blamed you."

Her expression became slightly guarded when he focused the intense dark eyes on her, and she only nodded.

"I didn't mean it."

"Yes you did."

"Yes I did," he admitted.

"But I blamed you too, for leaving." He looked down at his hands, and nodded.

"What was it like?"

"What?" she asked softly.

"After."

She was a little taken aback by the question, but when he looked at her, she shrugged slightly. "Mostly? A little tiring, but… nice… considering. I remember when Ruppy went to prom – he was too nervous to ask a girl, so he asked me. Said I looked the right age. I got hit on by so many little perverts I almost brought my sword out from the limo."

He grinned, couldn't help himself. "Really?"

"Oh, yeah! Here… I have pictures-" she stood, moved over to the table and picked up an album, coming back to settle in beside him. "Here."

Sure enough, there was Cordelia, with Willow and Oz's son, smiling dutifully into the camera.

"Are you wearing pink?"

She smacked him lightly. "He picked the dress okay! And I'll have you know it was a Prada!"

"It's pink."

"Shut up."

He smiled in spite of himself, turning over the picture. "Is that his graduation?"

"Oh, yeah! I took him to Italy with Willow. Oh, God! We were in Venice, and…"

She continued to chatter, and Angel listened, turning to watch as the hazel-eyed brunette animatedly told the story that involved Ruppy, Willow, and falling into the rivers.

"And you?"

"What about me?"

"The Los Angeles scene?"

"Eh… it was okay."

"Just okay?"

He shrugged, felt a smile tug on the corner of his lips. "Well there was this one time… I was helping out this friend of mine, Kate-"

"You… friends? Are you kidding?"

"No- anyway- HEY!"

"Come on, on with the story."

He nodded as she smiled, leaning back.

"Well… she had to take a sensitivity class, and it was… well there was spells…"

"Of course."

"And… I got struck with a sensitivity stick…"

"You got the whammy put on you?"

"Uh… yeah. I stunk of… whammy."

--