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
--
Chapter Five
--
Mr. Jacobs carried the coffee carefully, thankful that there was at least one perk in a sacred order that required an oath, next to zero digital compensation and the most horrendous apartment this side of London.
Free, wonderfully free and rather expensive, coffee, a luxury only given to those who could afford it, he found himself addicted helplessly, and he carried the two steaming cups as if they were gold, up the steps, the sun setting behind him.
Taking a breath, he paused, looking around as he regarded his position, both in life, and at this moment.
One hundred yards away from the flat that housed his very own Immortal, a young woman who was at this moment in there with a vampire – at the cusp of what many had come to regard the possible end of days.
And yet, as the sun sank and darkness began to permeate the small streets of London, he felt the soft wind – gentle at least for once – rake through his hair, and the young Watcher smiled.
He had often heard of how the Watchers Council broke – one to guard the Slayer, the other placing more importance in Immortals – but he never had seen the two sides of a very sick world work together in quite this way.
It was fascinating, and oddly, it provided him with something akin to hope.
Taking a breath, he moved up the hill, into the shadowy corner where the lens was seated, along with his good Mr. Bellows, who was helping him in shifts.
Apparently this was a tumultuous time, and Watchers were required for more than eight hour shifts.
Coffee was the only perk.
He sensed something was wrong when he wasn't immediately berated for dawdling. Steps faltered as he looked into the darkness, hand clutching his coffee.
A movement made him jump, and he cursed as the hot liquid spilled onto his palms, scalding him.
The low laughter that came out of the darkness was chilling.
His heart, previously beating comfortably, now pounded against his chest. He took in a ragged breath, and managed a timid, "Mr. Bellows?"
The body fell out of the darkness, the corpse previously known as Mr. Bellows splayed before him, hands curled in firsts, mouth agape, and the ever dignified watcher's glasses were broken.
The head fell at his feet, and Mr. Jacobs hitched in his breath, a small whimper emerging as the fear flooded through him.
The man who stepped out of the darkness wiped at his mouth, regarding the young Watcher, and then looking up into the flat.
"Bloody good being back," he growled, the yellow eyes twinkling as the demonic face smiled.
And ignoring the Watcher completely, he turned, the leather coat flapping behind him, the blonde hair visible even as the rest of the vampire faded into the night.
--
The small jolt that went through him made his eyes open, and Angel, slightly disoriented, at first wasn't quite sure what it was.
It mingled in his dreams, and when he stirred, the murmur of protest startled him, as the very discernable body splayed across his kept him from moving.
Curious, his hands moved, discovered silken strands moving through his fingers. Fingertips grazed his bare chest, and Angel smiled, as Cordelia, who was a welcome weight pressed against his hip, shifted again, nestling closer into his body, burying the side of her face into his ribs.
Her palms were wrapped tightly against him, and slightly confused, Angel blinked, looking around the couch, and wondering when exactly they had fallen asleep, and how she had ended up sprawled across him, but it brought a smile to his face nonetheless.
There was something there, in that talk that happened this morning, something that had been established that had previously been missing, and Cordelia, sleeping soundly with him, had given him proof.
They had trust.
The jolt that had awoken him came insistently again, and he sighed, reaching out to pluck his data pad out of the trench coat and leaning back, careful not to disturb the Immortal sleeping half beside him, half on top of him.
With a flick of his ear, he answered.
"What?"
Immediately the fuzzy image of a scruffy young man with glasses that fit badly came onto the screen. "What the hell took you so long, you big bimbo?"
Angel let out a heavy sigh. "Travis the next time you call me that I will rip your head off your body. And I can do that. Really. Just rip your head, right off your body. "
"Geez, how's that for love? Haven't seen me in a couple days and it's not, 'howzit goin', Travis? Have a vision, Travis? Take something for the pain, Travis'?"
"Travis…"
"Yeah, yeah. You're lucky I'm not affectionate. You gotta come back. Had a vision, some pretty heavy shit."
Angel's eyes flickered down to the head of streaked blonde and brown. "I'm not done here, yet."
"It's kinda a timetable-"
"It doesn't matter." He spoke softly, quietly. "She's not saved yet."
"Who?"
There was a pause, as he answered finally, "Katherine."
"What about that other chick – hot girl you knew?"
His hand, disturbingly of it's own accord, stroked Cordelia's shoulder thoughtfully. "She's… it's better."
The door chimed, and Cordelia stirred above him, as he jerked his head toward the door.
"Ms. Winters! Ms. Winters! Please!"
"I'll call you back," Angel said, abruptly cutting off the connection as Cordelia slowly became alert, moving off of him and staring at the door.
"Ms. Winters!" The chiming stopped and the door began to pound. "Please, Ms. Winters!"
"Is that Terence?"
He followed her as she strode to the door, pulling it open to find her distraught watcher on her front porch.
"Uh… are you okay?"
The young man was sweating profusely, his tie loosened and his hair mussed, and his hands, were stained red with blood.
"What happened?" Angel asked immediately.
"Mr. Bellows…" he gasped, and cringed, and jerked his head to the street. "I believe Mr. Bellows… is dead."
"What?" Angel grabbed his shirt and his coat, pulling on one on top of the other hastily as Cordelia slipped on her shoes, forgetting to put anything over her flannel pajamas and her tanktop as she yanked her sword from the mantle and followed Terence out of the door.
The street was deserted, not exactly surprising. Angel gathered that people in Cordelia's priveliged neighbored kept to themselves, asked no questions and never looked outside.
A lot of the world was like that now.
Cordelia, faster in her sneakers, reached the area first, and the scent
of spilled blood hit him as he stumbled to a stop after her, kneeling down
as Mr. Jacobs sank to the floor
Mr. Bellow's blank eyes stared up at him.
Angel swallowed, smelling the blood, feeling the lust inside him for the spoils of the kill. The vampire who had done this had been particularly brutal, the holes weren't neat and trim but messy, torn.
"Oh, God. He just died," Cordelia breathed.
"Which way did he go?" Angel said, getting up.
Terence pointed, and he began to move, until Cordelia caught him by the wrist.
"You're not going anywhere."
"Cordy, he's getting away!" he growled, jerking her hand away, not having the patience to listen.
"You're not wearing pants!"
Angel blinked, and looked down.
Sure enough, two long, pale legs stuck out from under his trenchcoat.
"Oh." He took in a breath, and the scent stayed, blood and fear.
"Come on. I can follow the scent but it has to stay fresh." Terence nodded, gulping, eyes widened and panicked.
Only Cordelia stayed, and her hand gently leaned forward, closing Mr. Bellow's eyes.
Her eyes were misted with tears as she rose, and strode quickly, following the Watcher and the Vampire back to her flat, leaving the dead body behind.
--
Sunnydale, California 2006
"I tell you something, C.C., this place gives me the damned creeps."
Cordelia rolled her eyes, ignoring the comment as she turned eying the graveyard.
Faith, rugged and just a bit tired, kept her grip on her stake, looking over the gravestones with her, the convicted ex-con now dressed in leather, the black tanktop her only protection against the cold.
"Where the hell are they tonight? You'd think with all the coming issues that they might be running around celebrating."
"1999 was a long time ago, Faith," Cordelia said, keeping her grip on her sword steady.
Faith just cocked an eyebrow, watching as the Immortal unconsciously tipped the sword side to side, moving it in a graceful arc.
"So when does the Chosen One get one of those babies?"
"When the Chosen One gets off probation," Cordelia shot back, taking in an unsteady breath as she cocked her head. "You check that end, I'll check this."
"I don't think it's a good idea to split up."
Hazel eyes met dark brown, and the Slayer only shrugged. "Just sayin'. I don't want any shit to happen to you and have that little gang you call family blame me."
Cordelia took in a breath. She had a point, Xander and Giles and company hadn't exactly been receptive to the idea of Borne Again Slayer Girl being brought back into their midst. She and Xander had argued about it for days, and finally Cordelia's logic had won- this town needed a slayer. The current one was simply too green.
But it had required a trip to Los Angeles, and very careful planning to avoid being seen by any compatriot of Angel's shady group of do-gooders.
As far as he was concerned they were no longer an issue, and Cordelia could think of better ways to spend her time than to spend them with Angel.
Sitting down across from Faith, the Slayer had looked different, and after five occasions of talking through plexi-glass, Cordelia had made the decision.
Two months later, Faith stood with her in the graveyard, stake in her hand, a rough cut of a Slayer who was still willing to battle the forces of Darkness.
But it still haunted Cordelia.
Faith cited Angel as her own personal epiphany – the reason she no longer sought blood – the reason she was attempting to atone.
Only Cordelia knew, and Faith had made sure to tell no one else.
No one else would have believed her.
"Let's go that way," she said finally, and Faith agreed, taking the lead as the pair walked past the mounds of dirt, more fresh than she had seen the week before.
"I have to go take care of some business," Cordelia said finally, carefully palming her brown strands behind her ear as she walked. "I'm leaving tomorrow."
"You're leaving me alone." Faith faltered, stopped and suddenly shook her head. "Uh-uh, Queen C. If Xander could that little hubby of yours will stake me."
"He won't stake you."
"You kidding? He makes me step out in the sunlight every day just to make sure I'm still human!"
"Rachel likes you a little too much for him to do anything to you." Faith gave the tired Immortal a smirk.
"Great plan of yours, C. Get in with the daughter."
It was more than a plan, it was a gesture. Cordelia had killed before, she knew the pain, she knew the agony, and she knew that what Faith needed was trust.
Maybe Xander was right – if Cordelia had seen what Faith had done to Buffy, had seen how she had almost killed Angel, then maybe she would have understood the hate and the hurt – maybe then she would feel she was tainting Buffy's memory by including Faith.
But there was need, and there was trust, and at that moment, with the coming war and the coming darkness, Cordelia had been stretched too thin – she needed to trust someone other than herself, and the only available person had been the renegade Slayer.
Entrusting her adopted daughter to the Borne Again Slayer meant a lot to Faith. She cared for Rachel, with the beautiful almond eyes and jet black hair, like she was her own.
It showed the trust.
"Yeah, well, you know me." Faith nodded shortly, and they continued walking in silence.
"So when are you going to ask me?"
"Ask you what?"
"Where the hell I was last week?"
"Fine. Where the hell were you?"
"In LA. With Angel."
Cordelia paused, drew in a breath, and shuddered. "So didn't need to hear that."
"He asked about you guys."
"Don't." The curt words cut Faith off, and she looked surprised, steps faltering.
"Cor-"
"I'm not your keeper, Faith."
"Uh… According to the judge you kinda are, Chase."
A growl from behind made Cordelia whirl, and Faith smiled behind her.
"Hey there, big boy." In two seconds the Slayer had flipped over her and driven the stake into the vampire's chest, watching with a grin of self satisfaction and maybe a little blood lust as the being exploded into dust.
"Damn that does it for me."
Cordelia watched, blinked and shrugged. "You disturb me, Faith."
"I disturb myself, Queen C."
They continued to walk, and finally Cordelia began, in a quiet voice, "I know how Angel is doing, okay? I get… reports every couple weeks, checking up on him. But I'd rather keep it impersonal."
"You stalk the guy?"
"Not… personally."
"Oh." They continued in silence. "So that's how you knew where I was?"
"Yes."
"Damn, Chase you've got some eyes."
"I know."
"Then you know he stalks you too, right?" Cordelia whirled, her eyes widened as Faith gave her a look, and a smile.
"So that skipped your little radar, huh?"
"He what?"
"Watches. In the shadows. You mostly. Keeps an eye on the rest of the gang but says-"
"I don't want to hear anymore."
"Cor-"
"No, Faith," she finally snapped, turning. "You can be friends with Angel if you want – hey if he's responsible for all that do-gooding and soul saving and saved your ass in the process, GREAT! But we all have very deep Angel issues and kinda don't wanna hear about it."
Faith snapped her gum, crossing her arms as she kept her dark orbs connected with Cordelia's.
"That all, Queen C?"
"For now."
"At your service." Cordelia just shook her head, and turned, resting the sword on her shoulder.
"He doesn't blame you, Cor. If that's what you think."
She closed her eyes, took in a breath, and just blew it out. "Come on, Faith. Let's do another sweep and head home."
--
"The scent ends here."
"You lost the scent?"
"I didn't lose it, it's just… convoluted… there's so much…"
Angel trailed off as they stood over the hill, looking into one of the poorer districts of London. The wild partying, mingled with chaos and other sinful embellishment was… reminiscent somehow.
The darkness of the night was dour, streets layered with a sheen of mist that made it almost impossible to get a clear picture.
Cordelia came up beside him, dressed in all black this time, giving him a sharp gaze. "What?"
"Deja-vu," he whispered. Haunted eyes brimmed with memories of chaos, of torture, of blood, bathing the streets with it.
The scourge of Europe once roamed these streets, and drank in every minute.
"It's pretty crazy down there," Cordelia said, crossing her arms as she looked down into the ghetto. "After the war these camps were never rebuilt."
"I could understand that. Happened in Los Angeles, too."
"Wonderful for the vamp looking for the easy meal."
They fell silent, both watching in introspection.
"You sure that the guy you saw, had blonde hair and a leather duster?" he spoke, tossing his words behind them, where the Watcher stood.
"Yes."
Cordelia's eyes flickered to his, mouth opening slightly. "You're not thinking what I think you're thinking, are you?"
He gave her a somber glance. "I'm not sure."
"But he was chipped!"
"A long time ago."
Cordelia sucked in her breath, appeared lost in thought before finally turning to Terence.
"Go home, lock yourself up. We'll take it from here."
"I would like to help-"
"You won't help, you'll only get dead." Terence shuffled, his face one of nervous agitation, and Cordelia stepped forward, finally just squeezing his shoulders.
"Hey, Terence. I finally met the man behind the notebook, okay? I don't wanna lose my stalker just when I put the voice to it."
And the young man smiled grimly.
The connection between the Immortal and the Watcher was curious, Angel could only watch, feeling himself an outsider as Cordelia leaned forward, smoothed a palm over Terence's cheek, and then kissed his forehead.
The frown was noticeable, the stab of jealousy a little surprising. He coughed, and came forward, patting the young watcher's shoulder.
"We'll find the guy."
"Mr. Angel, it has been a pleasure."
He turned immediately, stepping toward the ghetto, stealing himself to walk in.
She came beside him, the trenchcoat flapping behind her.
He turned, regarded her, and found himself frowning.
Her eyes were a trifle suspicious, self consciously asking, "What?"
He only gave a grim smile, and turned back, a curious ache in his chest.
"Nothing," he said, his voice clipped.
Cordelia just shook her head, mumbled something about a 'social retard' and walked with him down the stairs that were carved into the slope of the hill.
There was no time for the thoughts that had begun to infest his brain, no time to ponder what the passage of time had done for Cordelia, and what it had done in his heart.
The only traitorous thought he allowed was that Cordelia had become a very beautiful woman.
--
He had left her there, on the bed – after taking more of her blood, and Katherine knew, if she didn't get loose, something far worse would eventually happen.
Shaking slightly, tears now sliding down her face, Katherine lay back,
still, her muscles aching
Vampires. She had suspected their existence for a while, known that
it was spoken of in their inner circles, of the other side of the coin,
the Immortals who lived forever by taking the lives of others.
Darker, deeper, and much more frightening than she had ever wanted to know.
She remembered Nick, sitting next to her, bare-chested, buried in Anne Rice books. She had opened her eye sleepily, told him to put that trash away, but he had been fascinated.
It should have triggered something, it should have told her something – a warning, a sign that something was dreadfully wrong.
God…. A century later and this was coming up now…
Nick had sold his soul for love.
FUCK.
Katherine was not a crier, some of her stubborn heritage had retained in her after all these years and she knew that crying was not in her.
But she began to sob now, and with her arms and legs bound, she could do nothing to wipe the tears away.
--
Cordelia Chase had been in this chaos exactly once, fleeing from an Immortal who had traced her in an attempt to pick out the fledglings – because they were easier pickings.
She had quickly established that even if she was a mere one hundred years old, she was no one to be trifled with.
This place, during the aftermath, had been silent, despondent, and forgotten. No one cared what happened here, and it made it a perfect battle ground for Immortals - and a perfect place to breed sickness, filth and carnage.
She stepped over the sewage that lay in the street, moving with careful ease as she followed Angel through the dark streets, hand gentle on her hilt, resting inside her coat, eyes focusing on everything around her.
Angel's hand on the small of her back was oddly comforting, a reminder without words that, at least tentatively, they were friends again.
And they were quickly running out of time.
"It's like a needle in a haystack in here," she said, breathing out, the yells, laughter, shots in the distant not particularly new or scary. "We're not going to find anything."
"He's here," he responded, eyes dark and hooded, looking like the Angel of before. She turned, and found herself wishing for the Angel that smiled. He had a good smile. But the vampire only furrowed his eyebrows even further, sniffing at the air. "Despair is here. Fear… Lust…. Anger and hate. It's… beautiful. For someone who likes that," he tacked on immediately when she cocked an eyebrow. "Evil breeds on chaos."
She managed a glare at her overly broody companion. "Yes, Angel. Relive your glory days why don't you? Geez. You even think about biting me you're so losing your head, bound soul or not."
He only shook his head, narrowing his eyes at one pub at the end of the corner. "There."
Cordelia squinted her eyes, taking in a breath and nodding. "You smell it?"
"I smell fear and blood."
"Okay forget I asked." God, sometimes this guy was just NOT FUN. Taking a breath, she took a step toward the pub, only to have Angel's strong grip stop her, with a hand to her elbow.
"Angel it helps if we move."
"Are you sure you can handle this?"
At the question, Cordelia gave him a surprised look. "Why wouldn't I be able to?"
"I just…" biting his lip, Angel looked disturbed. "It's not pretty in there."
"Right, and it's pretty out here?" she snapped, indicating toward the deteriorating houses and flats. "For your information Angel, I took my fifth head here: covered in grime, right after the war. One of my coats was completely ruined, and it was a really good coat! Do you know how hard it was to find a Dolcen original in those times?"
He gave her a blank look, and she rolled her eyes. "I can handle a few vampires. Besides, the most they can do is bite me."
"Some people say it hurts."
"Like a bitch," she responded, and walked ahead of him, purposely ignoring
his look of bewilderment.
