The Road Before Us
By Misty Flores - mistiec_flores@yahoo.com
Rating: R - for violence, sexual situations, and some language
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.
The Road Before Us: Chapter Twelve
Sunnydale, California 2009
The brightness in her face made her groan, jolting her into consciousness as she moved instinctively, hand slipping away from the muscled chest to cover her eyes, sighing when she saw nothing but darkness again.
When she heard the low chuckle, she muttered, "Shut UP Xander," ignoring the warm hand that slid up her waist and pulled her in closer to his side.
Her body, lazy with sleep, settled against him as she parted her fingers slowly.
"Why is it, wherever the hell I sleep, I always get hit by the damn sunlight!?"
"You used to like sunlight, Cordelia," came the sleepy voice of her husband.
She only gave a slow, light growl, stretching against him and reaching out to throw the covers over her head, letting out a contended sigh.
"I like the dark," she mumbled.
And it was true, she did like the dark, with the. darkness. Chase Winters had come to understand something about lightness and darkness - and although she had often cherished the sunlight she never got to see, thanks to the fighting and the quickening and Sunnydale's relatively late hours - darkness had become her place.
In the light, in the daytime, she had become to feel more and more exposed. Daylight held no secrets, everything splayed out in the open, for everyone to see - in the darkness there was room for shadows, room for secrets - room for Immortals with double lives.
Over the years she become less and less involved with the light, less and less involved with making it a point to attend Ruppy's baseball games or Rachel's soccer games - and more and more she had felt the tension that arose because of it.
"Yeah, I know. You need a tan, Cordy." She only growled something intelligible and hugged him closer, burying her face into his chest and making a decision not to move ever again.
"Where were you last night?"
One eye creaked open when he raised the sheet peer into her face. Xander had aged well. He looked like a man, with a little premature grey in his hair. Married young, lost so many lives, young - and the constant stress of creating a family with a barely there wife when he himself had never had a stellar first hand experience from it, it was all making it's point, and taking it's toll.
But he had proved himself, proved he could, even when she barely came home, and even when their adopted children asked time and time again why Mommy looked so young and why she was never home.
"Xander," she began, stretching against him, closing her eyes. "You always ask and I always give you the same answer. I'm not telling you. Let it go."
"And I'm always going to keep asking. But hey, who the hell am I? You know, only your husband. Geez. FAITH knows more about my wife than I do."
The bitter answer made Cordelia groan, and she sighed, sitting up, finally pulled out of her want of sleep, to look at her husband with a passive expression.
"Okay, fine. You want to know what I did last night, Xander? Since Faith is in Los Angeles, I had to track a Yrackier demon for five miles on foot. We got into a fight, and he came close to raping me. Then he cut out my kidneys, ate them, and threw me off a cliff. When I came to, three of my ribs were broken and I had lost most of my blood - so after about four hours of barely conscious agony-"
"Stop." His voice was choked, harsh, and her heart tremored slightly when she heard it, but she only crossed her arms, and kept going.
"And I fainted. I woke up, covered in blood- again, lost my sword, spent two hours trying to find it, and then had to retrace the demon all the way back to it's lair, which was littered with corpses, a few of them human-"
"Cordy-"
"No, Xander! I'm sharing!"
"DAMMIT Cordy!" He rose, throwing aside the bed covers as he reached for his pants, pulling them, turning to glare at her as he ran distracted hands over his disheveled hair.
The look in his face was plain agony, but she got the point, as she took a breath, and settled back down on the bed, pulling the covers back over herself.
"Xander there are parts of myself - of my life that I don't want you to know. That you don't HAVE to know. And it's okay."
"No it's not." His voice was heavy, as he came forward again, chocolate brown eyes gentle and almost moist as his hands slipped to her shoulder. "Look. Yeah it hurts okay? To. see that part of you. But I knew about that when I married you. I knew what I was getting. And I want it."
Her heart was beating fast, and over the years she had come to cherish the heartbeat. Her senses arose, her awareness grew with every quickening and she could count them, would count them at times when she was distracted, worried, saddened.
This heartbeat slowed.
"Xander - you don't get it. I'm . honored that you to know about every death, and every spell and every torn muscle. But I don't want you to know."
He swallowed, his jaw tightening as she continued.
"Do you understand? I have this. life here. This is my sanctuary. You and. and Rachel and Rupert and Willow - it's. light here. And Faith and me - we're part of the darkness - and you can't mix that."
Her hand reached out, placed carefully into his palm, as she let her fingers tangle with his, the rings clinking slightly as she gave him a sad smile.
"I have barely enough time with you as it is. I'd rather we talk about. happy stuff."
He looked down, at the entwined fingers, at Cordelia's eternally young ones, and he let out a harried breath.
"Fine," he finally said. "Fine, Cordelia. But you . you have to understand that it hurts not knowing."
"And you have to understand - that it hurts just as much to know."
Their eyes locked, and suddenly the moment was broken when the door was flung open, and a little Asian girl ran into the room.
"Breakfast!"
Cordelia's face slipped into a smile as Rachel clamored onto the bed, dark eyes shining. "Mommy! Can we have pancakes?"
"If Daddy makes them, sure."
"Hey midget!" Xander grinned, grabbing the girl and tickling her mercilessly.
The younger girl squirmed, digging into Xander's ribs and then launched over, attacking Cordelia with an "oomph".
"Mommy you're staying, today, right?"
The little dark eyes looked up at her, eternally shining, eternally adorable, and eternally loving.
"Sure, sweetheart. I'm staying."
Her eyes rose to meet Xander's, and when he tossed her a hesitant grin, she reached out, grabbed his fingers, and squeezed.
--
The coffee was grainy, and it tasted bad.
She never noticed, as she leaned back on the chair feet propped up against the desk, her cup warming her palms.
Angel had taken off the ring.
Her own ring, hidden in her cleavage, had been warmed by her skin, a contrast to Angel's.
It had been the metal that had awoken her this morning, tangled in the sheets, legs splayed over a pair of curiously cold legs, arms wrapped around a cool body, face buried in a strong, masculine neck.
Metal rings had tangled together, and Cordelia, opening her eyes, didn't quite understand at first, what it was they had done.
But Angel, with his ringless hand, held her close, not breathing, eyes closed, still, completely still.
When she shifted slightly she earned herself an unconscious growl, as the vampire suddenly came to life, to throw his legs on top of hers and wrap his arms around her tighter.
She had waited, as he sniffed her in his sleep, nuzzling her neck, and she felt the smile against her cheek as he gave a soft, low moan, before keeping his grip tight and letting his head fall back to the pillow.
Cordelia was never one for one night stands, and she knew, despite the long years of loneliness with a boundsoul, that Angel wasn't either. Angel was a man who had to be pushed to express him, attempting to separate himself from the vampire Angelus as much as possible. Angelus had screwed and fucked - Angel made love.
She closed her eyes, as her fingers edged between their naked bodies, trying to untangle the rings and necklaces.
Her fingers worked, carefully, slowly, and she gave a sigh of relief when she finally freed hers from his, carefully palming hers and even more carefully moving Angel's very possessive hands.
Half an hour later she was rooted to the desk, drinking the old coffee, showered, completely obliterating any remnants of the night of passion with Angel.
Even the marks, small bite marks - nothing major- and large hickeys were gone, thanks to her ever healing Immortal body.
But her mind still burned, and Cordelia waited with apprehension, unsure and unwilling and not wanting to be there when the vampire awoke alone.
"You look one shot short of a good time."
She turned, and found Lorne, the Host, or whatever his name was standing in a robe, rubbing at a spot just under his horns.
"Itchy?"
"Right around the horns. It's so annoying, but ah well - beauty has its price."
"Doesn't it though," she responded shortly, before taking another sip and grimacing. "Do you know how to make a decent up of coffee?"
"Honey I can make the best apple martini this side of Los Angeles - but please don't ask me to deal with caffeine," he said, inspecting the small cooler. "Though shouldn't I be offering you a cigarette?"
He tossed her a glance, and Cordelia only sighed, quirking a finger in his direction. "Bring it on."
"Didn't know you smoked," he said, but came forward obediently, settling down across from her and handing her a white stick.
"I don't - but eventually you do it sporadically when you're my age. Not like it kills you." With trembling fingers she took the cigarette, bringing it to her lips and moving forward, breathing in as he held the match under it, watching the tip burn.
He was quiet, pursing his lips, and finally he sat back, crossing his arms. "You're all full of piss and vinegar, aren't you sugar lips?"
She blew her breath out, careful to blow the smoke away from the man's face. "What do you mean?"
He was quiet for a moment, as if framing his words, and finally began again, "You realize that doing what you did last night wasn't exactly. constructive?"
She cocked an eyebrow, keeping a straight face as she responded, "Does my aura say that too, Lorne?"
"Oh, honey I heard the screams."
"I don't scream during sex. I'm not very vocal at all."
"And thanks for that little insight. I was being sarcastic."
"So was I."
"As much as I love this little debate, sweetie, maybe we should get back to the business at hand. You realizewe're running out of time."
Her blood was very close to boiling, but Chase Winters merely kept her lips shut tight as she knocked the cigarette on the ash tray, letting the ashes fall before bringing it to her mouth again, taking in the nicotine.
She hadn't lied to Lorne, she rarely smoked, but there was certain purity in the action that allowed her to think - to understand and control herself.
"Hey. Green Guy? You're not telling me anything I don't already know, and when Angel comes down I appreciate you leaving us alone to talk this out, without your little talk of auras and colors and . that - where on earth did you even FIND a crushed velvet robe in this day and age?"
"The big dope has a crush, sweetie."
She swallowed, and nodded, blowing out another breath of smoke, eyes roving toward the stairs.
"I know."
--
There was darkness in the air.
He could smell it, taste it, and it filled his soul with fear, as his fingers reached for the warm body and there was nothing but cold air and cold blankets, a telltale sign that he had been alone for a while.
Panic had been an option at first, but her scent still clung to the sheets, and he inhaled, taking it in, and finally allowed himself to breathe again - at least. figuratively.
Pulling on pants and a sweater, he stumbled toward the door, careful to run his hands through his hair as he walked to the hallway, hearing the murmurs of Lorne and his lover.
Lover.
Angel closed his eyes, steadied himself on the balcony and let a small smile slide across his lips.
It seemed almost foreign, the small gentle smile that caressed his features.
In the darkness there was a spot of light - one thing he needed to cling to, because with his ever increasing alertness he began to remember.
Travis was dead.
The world was in peril.
A vampire demon with a soul was no match against the higher beings, against the Immortals - and no one would know the outcome - the coming darkness.
He had woken once during the night, found her body splayed across his and he had remembered smiling as he registered her face, her eyes, her even breath as her chest rose and fell against his.
One moment of peace and solitude, as his hands began to caress her body, down her legs, up to her shoulders, feeling her stir under his gentle ministrations.
His lips had clung to hers as she slowly escaped the realms of Morpheus, lips moving against his.
It had been slow that time, slow and soft and he had kept his eyes locked on hers the entire times, watchingas his lips trailed her jawbone, lips clinging to her bottom one, suckling as she arched beneath him, emitting a tiny squeak of pleasure, before her entire body trembled.
His eyes had closed when it was over, but he kept her near him, against him, never letting her go.
And he had woken up alone.
Angel had never shared a bed someone since Buffy - had never wanted to wake up with a lover until now - and strangely.
He shook off the confusion, palm over the ring as he walked down the stairs, faltering when he saw the figures seated at the table.
"Hey."
Cordelia was showered, dressed, a cigarette in her hand and a tightened smile on her face.
"Hey."
"You smoke?"
"They all do, Angelcakes. Perks of having a recyclable set of lungs." Lorne stood, nodding to them. "Going to make sure the bar is ready."
He walked away, but Angel barely saw him, instead watching Cordelia, who carefully placed the cigarette into the ashtray, butting it out.
"Amazing, huh?" she said after a minute, watching the burning embers at the end of the crumpled cigarette. "One hundred years and we don't have Pepsi - but we still have these little bastards."
In what seemed to be becoming a familiar feeling, Angel felt unsure.
A deep knot settled in his stomach at the way Cordelia deliberately avoided his stare, and when he came forward, it twisted when she finally looked into his eyes.
"Angel, last night was a mistake."
There was no reaction - pure numbness.
His mouth was dry. He swallowed, and flashes of Cordelia under him, over him, face awash in ecstasy, beautiful, intense-
"A mistake?"
"Katherine went Anakin on us, Angel," she continued, her voice firm. "She went all. Darth Vader and to the dark side. She. Last night she tried to kill me."
The words sunk in, and still they seemed to have no meaning. Cordelia's fingers continued to play with the now shredded little white stick.
"She was the reason - she was your Damsel, Angel. And because of me, we might have just royally screwed it up and destroyed the world because we've lost her - because we were so busy obsessing about our hormones that we never saw she was having her OWN vampire issues."
"Last night was a mistake."
The voice was calm, almost deadly, and it took her by surprise, as she shot him a startled glance.
"What do you call it?"
"I call it making love."
"Angel did you listen to me?"
"We can save Kat."
"No- Angel, we can't! She's gone! She's bitter and angry and she thinks I love you!"
"She thinks you love me."
She paused, but he only narrowed his eyes, not allowing her to see how the words affected him, not even as her eyes teared up and she looked away, trying to gather her composure.
"Angel," she began in a softer tone, "Look, I'm not saying I didn't. it was my fault too-"
"FAULT?!"
"Angel - just LISTEN dammit-"
"Why the hell should I, Cordelia? You're sorry we fucked? Okay! Point taken. Thanks Cordy you were a damn good lay-"
"Don't."
Her words were choked with barely there emotion, teeming at the surface, but never quite coming out the way they should have.
"Don't what?"
"Don't cheapen it Angel."
"You made it a mistake."
"I made it the only thing I could Angel!" She retorted, slamming her hand down on the table, "Because I knowwhat's coming and this won't matter when I'm dead."
Startled at the choice of words, he could only gaze at her, studying her for a clue into the sentence, his mouth opening slightly at the admission.
"You're scared?"
But her face was hidden under the curtain of her hair, as she took in a breath, ignoring the question.
"Katherine thinks that Nick isn't evil. That he's capable of love."
"Some vampires are."
She looked up, her voice even as she straightened finally, regarding him. "So we're just supposed to let it happen."
"There's a difference between loving something and loving what they are, Cordelia," he said, eyes narrowing. "Katherine doesn't understand evil - her world has been tainted by her losses and she sees him and can't make the distinction. Evil always hides under a cloud of deception and beauty is its favorite tool."
--
Sunnydale, CA 1998
The world was grim, swaying, drowning in an edge of reality and a cobweb of disillusionment.
He blinked once, looking up and suddenly he saw her, staring at him with. was that a sword?
"Buffy?"
Carefully, he tried to stumble to his feet, but his mind was so muddled and there was pain - there was so much pain. "Buffy, what's going on? I don't remember. where are we?"
"Angel?" Her voice was uncertain, as the sword came down, and he swallowed back the weakness, hands reaching for her.
"You're hurt." Oh, God, she looked so scared. What happened? Gentleness overwhelmed him and he carefullypulled her in, savoring her scent, relief and confusion tainting his words. "God I feel like I haven't seen you in months.. Buffy, everything's so muddle."
His eyes closed, and she began to tremble, soft sobs that were barely recognizable sliding through her and he held as well as he could with his waning strength, heart beginning to burst and break as he closed his eyes, letting her cling to him.
"Oh, Buffy."
Behind him, there was a noise. Her eyes opened and focused and he turned and it was there. a statue.
"Buffy? What's happening?"
His eyes bore into hers, hoping against hope that his little Slayer could explain what he didn't know, could explain the searing pain in his heart and the agony-
But she only gazed at him through sheen of wet tears, and offered him a small smile.
"Shhh." she said, gently framing his face. "It doesn't matter."
Her lips touched his, and in that Angel found his peace, as his eyes closed and his arms wound around her, moving his lips against hers desperately.
Acceptance, love. and nothing else mattered.
She pulled away, and he watched her, desperately.
"I love you."
"I love you," he responded immediately, clinging to her, the pain still searing his soul but it was okay because Buffy.
"Close your eyes."
He did, trusting her completely, even as her eyes watered and her grip fell away.
The pain flared up, and his eyes opened wide.
He was impaled.
Unsure, bewildered, in pain, he looked up, pleadingly.
"Buffy?"
He tried to reach for her, but she seemed so far away, small and lonely and scared and OH GOD WHAT WAS HAPPENING?
"Buffy?"
And the warm beams seared through him, pulling him, swallowing him into the darkness, the abyss of eternal loneliness.
--
There was quiet as he stood, opening his eyes against the past, and found Cordelia with her hand on her head.
"Are you okay-"
With a cry she suddenly jerked back, topping over the chair and landing with a thud on the ground.
Immediately he was at her side, grabbing her arms, pulling her trembling body up his thighs, pressing her against his chest.
"Cordy! What's wrong-"
She gave a whimper, her head banging back against him, crying out as tears streamed from her face.
Her hands sought his, gripped them as her eyes opened and her body suddenly stilled.
Deep, heaving breaths that bordered on rasps came from the smaller body, as she gripped his hands tightly, eyes wide and unseeing.
"What the HELL was that?!"
"What happened?"
"Scratch and sniff in my head! And the smell - have you SMELT burning flesh? And UH - who the hell put the TV antennae in my brain?!"
"TV-antennae-" His thoughts were whirling, jaw dropping slightly as he blinked, looking away, thinking.
"You kissed Travis before- Cordelia did you just have a vision?"
"No I just had a migraine the size of Antarctica!"
"So the Powers chose a new Seer, did they?" Angel looked up to find Lorne kneeling in front of Cordelia, offering her two small white pills and a cup of water.
"Help her up, Angel; meet your new Link to the Powers."
Cordelia was still dazed, and Angel was careful with her, as she gripped his forearms, letting him help her onto her feet and into a chair.
Shaking slightly, she took the pills, downing the water immediately after.
Angel kept his hands on her shoulders, kneading gently as his eyes locked with Lorne's. "She can't be the new Seer."
"She was in the right place, at the right time, with the appropriate feelings of guilt," The Host said simply, crossing his arms as Cordelia shuddered, watching her grimly. "These things are never an accident."
"Wait, wait!" she interrupted, finally gaining enough control over her whirling senses to pin them both underneath her hazel gaze. "What the hell are you saying?"
--
The lingering remnants of the headache still existed. She sucked in a hiss and rubbed at her temples, swallowing down another gulp of water, and sorely regretting not giving into her temptation for another cigarette.
"I didn't ask for this. Geez. Why couldn't it have been mono, or herpes-"
"No one asks for anything, sweetheart," Lorne said, leaning forward on crossed arms. "Angelcakes over there didn't ask to be made a champion, Travis didn't ask to die-"
"I don't even know if I'm going to make it through the end of the Gathering!" she finally snapped, ignoring Angel's frown as she continued to rant. "I just." she buried her hands in her hair, hiding her face, still for a moment.
It was too much. There was dying all around her, and now there was pain and dying and feeling inside of her too? In her head, in her brain? Splintering every sense?
"I wanted out of this," she whispered, so small she thought no one heard her.
Her eyes were moist as she blinked back the tears, looking up and locking eyes with the vampire. "Is this the part where I tell you about the vision?" she began haltingly.
His eyes bore into hers, as if trying to read into her very soul. The look in his eyes was haunting, the dark orbs processing, calculating, eternally sorry for his past wrongs, for the future wrongs, for the pain that had been passed from Seer to Seer - and now to her.
She wished for the smile, the beautiful smile that was so gentle across his features, lighting up his entire face.
She had seen the smile last night, when he cupped her face with his hands and leaned forward, gently pressing his lips against hers.
"Yeah," he finally said. "Travis. he had this. device that would allow us to record them when they came-"
"I'm not putting one of those things in my head, Angel."
"I'm not asking you to. Just tell me what you saw."
It was a moment before she was able to put what she saw into words.
"There was. a dark room. like a ballroom or something. And. Katherine. well she's not the damsel anymore."
"What do you mean?" Angel's brow was furrowed, the concern displayed so evidently on his face made her offer a small, grim, bitter smile of irony, as her fingers weaved through her hair, pulling slightly at the corner in an attempt to create a small tingle that would ebb away the pain.
Lorne was uncharacteristically silent.
"I. The damsel. is me. I think. I don't know. It's dark and we're fighting and she's got . some sort of power. and there's an ugly grey blobby thing-"
"Uh. sugar lips? We need something a little more concrete than that."
The look she sent Lorne could have scathed a lesser man.
"The gist? Her or me, okay? I mean geez, give me a break, okay? I'm kinda new at this!"
She was trembling, and she bit her lip, crossing her arms in an attempt to still herself. Anxiety coursed through her, heat seared through her body and she shifted, the ache fading away as she felt a tingle, her mind and body almost feverish with response.
"Oh, God."
Quickly she stood, retrieving the sword that was alien to her, palming the handle carefully.
Her gaze once again drifted to Angel's, but his attention was no longer on her, but rather, his eyes were riveted on some point behind her.
The door closed, locked, and Cordelia turned, her eyes blazing as she almost smiled in anticipation.
Lawyers and two Immortals.
She cocked her head, nodding to her two fellow warriors.
"There can be only one."
--
Sprawling across from him, it was as if nothing had changed.
Her fingers carefully slid up his chiseled chest, fingernails circling one hard nub, and smiling in response when she felt the nerves jump underneath.
A small chuckle came from his body, making it almost alive under her touch.
Dark midnight eyes met equally dark orbs of a dead vampire, but it was Nick, and there was passion that glowed there.
It was colder than usual, than she remembered, but she remembered every curve, every line, ever ripple and shudder underneath her hands were so familiar.
It was Nick, and even after a hundred years, there he was, with that half smile, the same strand that fell into his hair.
He was patient, as she explored his body.
"Done yet?" he asked.
"Not yet," she responded, shifting closer, and with a wicked smile, playing her mouth around one nipple, sucking in hard, hearing him gasp in response. She grinned, mumbling around it. "You're not the only one who can bite."
The low growl was almost a turn on, and the extra strength counted for something when he bucked up, pushing her back roughly on the bed, landing on her.
Ridges marred the perfect face - the face of a demon, with yellow eyes.
She watched, fascinated, no fear, even when the fangs bared.
With hesitant fingers, she reached forward, touching the ridges, hearing him hiss in response.
Careful, so careful, she explored the new part of him, and smiled in response.
Eternity.
Settled between her thighs, he rocked his hardness against her, and her chest rose and fell, eyes darkening in arousal.
"You evil bastard."
"I'm evil," he responded immediately. "I don't give a fuck about anyone or anything, but damn baby, I love you."
The words were edged with need, and she smiled, eyes moist as his head drifted down to slant his lips over hers, tongue almost pierced by the sharpness of the fangs.
"What? No biting?"
The low grow rumbled through her husband, and it almost reached into her, as Nick propped himself up on hand, turning to glare at the vampire in the doorway.
"That's half the bloody fun of sex with a corpse," Spike said, taking another drag of the cigarette as he took another step into the room, kicking the door behind him shut. "Otherwise what's the damn point?"
"Get out," Nick growled, drawing up the sheet to her torso, covering her from Spike as he clenched his hand almost tightly around her waist.
Spike only flicked cold, calculating eyes over her, in a stare that seemed to burn with its chill, and clipped, "What's she doing here?"
"She's mine."
"She's a bloody Immortal," Spike said, settling into a leather chair, rubbing out the cigarette onto it.
Katherine heard the hiss as he snuffed it out, and she felt strangely cold, fear once again entering the equation.
Immortals were killers - but they weren't cold blooded.
"Get her out of here."
Her eyes narrowed, but Nick jumped the gun first, sliding out of the bed nude and marching up to Spike, who only glanced down and then up again.
"Happy to see me, are we?"
"She's the one."
"She's not the One. She's fickle and half crazy. And she's bloody old. I've got someone else now."
Katherine held the sheet to her chest, her mind amazingly cool despite the situation.
Nick had told her enough to understand what would happen to whomever they choose.
They would be the only one left standing.
And fuck it if she was going to lose her head just when she got her heart back.
"I'm the One, Spike."
There was almost a hint of a smile in his face as he looked around Nick's nude form to her.
"Katherine. Nice to see you developed a spine in all this. Lovely tits, by the way."
"What the fuck did you do with the sword?" Nick growled, hands pulling into dangerous fists.
Spike didn't answer, but gave him an annoyed glance, fishing into his leather duster for the packet of cigarettes.
Without a word, he lit another, breathing in deeply, and blowing the smoke directly into Nick's face.
With that he stood, pushed Nick roughly out of the way, and walked to Katherine.
"You want it, Katherine?"
His eyes bore into hers, cold hands on her thighs, seeping their coldness through the worn sheet.
The threat was in the challenge, as his face gave way to the demonic one, the killer.
But she stilled her heartbeat as she looked at Nick, and her mouth turned into an almost mischievous smile he seemed to appreciate, when she nodded.
"That's my girl. Cordelia Chase has the sword that you need. It's the key - a little spellbinding - get the sword, you get the demon it awakes. Get the sword; you get to be the one."
Quicker than lightening, he was on top of her, mouth parting hers roughly, kissing her with fangs uncaring, leaving her with the taste of bitter blood on her tongue as he pulled of, smiling cheekily at Nick who growled, pushing him off the bed.
"The sword, Kat. Be a good girl and get it back - or else Cordelia will win - and you're deader than a doornail."
With that, he turned away, slamming the door shut behind him.
--
A complicated action pared down to its simplest component.
Higher beings, creatures who roamed the earth for thousands of years, learning, growing wiser with each year, more powerful with every head taken, were still governed by the thoughts, realities and emotions of pure mortals.
Animalistic dances, read in the faces and lodged in the mind as the Immortals, revered by mortals and feared by vampires.
In the end, it was about killing, about winning.
She paid no attention to the lawyers, no attention to Lorne who said this was a sanctuary, she knew the spell paid absolutely no mind to her - she was no demon.
It was the need to kill that had infected her, in her body and flowing down to the extension that she had come to cherish, the metal blade that felt slightly foreign, but fit perfectly in her hand.
The vampire tried to whisper to her, and then spoke louder, but she gave him no attention, as she and the Immortals who had come to challenge her circled, like animals, younger against still younger.
When the first struck, it was clear that there was no match.
As soon as the blades clung together, he had been flung to the wall.
He came back and it took only a duck, a kick in the ribs and a twist for her to take his head.
The blood splattered over her clothes, and smeared across her cheek, and the back of her mind told the diva she would regret the stains, would complain and gripe, but at that moment, only the glory of the kill, the waiting of the inevitable testament to her victory was on her mind.
When the Quickening came, she welcomed it, not caring who was watching.
And when it was over, spent and sweaty on the floor, she looked up and found nothing was the same.
Lawyers were scattered, the other Immortal had long since run, and Angel and the Host were both looking at her as if they were seeing a stranger.
Her bloodlust sated, Cordelia felt herself coming back, the mortality easing away to reveal the humanity, and she took a breath, carefully climbing to her feet, thankful when Angel stepped forward, keeping his grip on hers.
Forgetting her earlier promise in her weakness, she leaned forward, forehead resting in the crook of his neck, taking in a breath, more relieved than she would have liked to admit when he slid his arms around her, sheltering her from her loss of control, stroking her gently until she was ready to be herself again.
Her fingers clung to the black wool, breathing in the scent, her body trembling.
"What the hell- the sword - when she hit the sword-"
"What are you still doing here?" She felt the growl under her cheek. "Get out."
"No."
Carefully, she extracted herself from his grip, eyes locking with the dark orbs of concern before taking a harried breath, moving away.
"Cordelia-"
"No." Moving toward the desk, she picked up the stray towel from her bath, rubbed at the blood with it, finally turning to the lawyers. "It's the sword. And it's me. You've seen what the sword can do, so either stop being pestering rats, and let me stop it- or you're going to have me being the most powerful chick in the world. Not a good thing for you."
Mr. Weathers, with his salt and pepper hair and his too bright tie, studied her with the cold stare she had come to admire.
He didn't consider himself evil. He had three children and a wife who he tried very hard to be faithful to.
He had a house in the valley and donated a portion of his money to the refugee's states fund.
He wasn't a stupid man.
He was also powerful. Cordelia knew that she was dealing with no regular junior partner - when he spoke, he spoke for Wolfram and Hart.
He licked his lips, dug his hands in his pockets, and considered every angle, every possibility to avoid having her take over the world.
And just like she knew it would, her logic won out.
"Wolfram and Hart has no interest in seeing this Endgame start before it's time," he began finally. "Consider our resources yours, for the time being."
And please don't forget we mean to screw you with everything we have when we figure out how to get around it and get our hands on that sword, Cordelia added mentally.
She was making a deal with the devil.
Angel shifted, shaking his head emphatically, fully intending to push the lawyers he hated out of his hotel when the hand on his elbow stopped him.
Angrily he shook the host off.
"This is bullshit."
"It's the only way, Angel."
The use of his name, not 'Angelcakes' or 'Sugarlips', but Angel, made him pause, glare at his friend and companion and prepare to offer another argument when Lorne only shook his head.
Lorne's face was somber, a different look that didn't quite look right on him.
"Listen, cutie pie, that Cordy chick? A little bit of a basket case right now but you have to trust her instinct. We can't stop this alone - she's got a hold over the lawyers as long as she has that sword-"
"They can't be trusted!"
"And neither can she!" The whisper was fierce, as Lorne pulled Angel back, away from where Cordelia was talking with the lawyers, where Mr. Weathers spoke to her in a low, soothing voice. "She's infected Angel, and if you try to play by any other way, we're just adding more wood to the fire."
That wasn't what he wanted to hear. Angel's hands pulled into fists, banged into his sides. Tension coursed through him like a coiled spring. For so long the danger had been him. The unworthy demon had been the source of fear.
Cordelia had been constant. Cordelia had been strong. Cordelia had been strong when no one else stayed and Cordelia had been the first to take off the ring.
She had also been the one to leave his bed this morning.
And she had been the one to push him away.
And the Cordelia Chase he knew would never have allowed blood to splatter on her without wiping it off immediately.
The Cordelia Faith knew wouldn't either.
But Chase Winters would-
It had been Chase who had left Angel's bed - it had been Chase who buried Cordelia behind the walls of fear - and it was Chase - the Immortal who relished the kill.
He exhaled deeply, crossing his arms and keeping them tight across his chest as the lawyers began to take off blazers and loosen their ties, already on phones and typing on pads.
It had all been so simple now - and it filled him with true, real fear.
Immortals were no different than vampires with souls.
Chase was Cordelia's demon.
--
Twice, she had caught him staring at her as if she were a stranger.
Both times she only gave him a tight smile, looking away just as quickly.
Was he regretting it? Regretting the smiles and the low moans of ecstasy?
God, Cordelia, don't even -
She shook herself out of it, turning back to Weathers.
"The scrolls. are you sure?"
"No," he said, rubbing his temples slowly. "But it has quite a few things to say. We have used it as a tool before to -"
"If you say 'to hurt Angel', or any variation of that phrase, I'm going to kill you," she said simply.
He gave her a long look, and just shrugged. "Then I won't. But it might be useful."
"Then get it."
He nodded.
"I'm going to make some calls outside," she said finally, turning her back to him and carefully avoiding Angel's gaze as she kept the sword in her hand and moved to the courtyard, into the exposed light.
Her eyes squinted in the daylight, and she almost stepped away from it, but necessity took its toll and instead she stepped forward, letting the warmth bathe her.
She wasn't used to the light anymore.
In the darkness were the shadows, in the light there was. nothing to hide.
FUCK, Chase, get a grip.
Carefully, she began to punch in the numbers, thankful that she still remembered how to do it the old fashioned way.
What was the damn extension again? She took in a breath, looking down at the tiny pad, and felt the click in her ear.
So absorbed in her task, she noticed nothing, until a rush of air made her pause, turning and getting caught full in the face by a booted heel.
Lurching backwards, she stumbled on her feet and fell to the floor, hitting the back of her head on the ground, resulting in a blinding flash of pain.
Before she had a chance to regain her balance, the weight of a body settled neatly on top of her, kneecap digging into her esophagus, choking her breath.
Katherine waited, her eyes dark, focused.
"Hey, Chase."
Carefully, she deliberately placed the edge of her blade next to her neck.
"Now you know all about this whole gathering thing," she whispered fiercely. "Care to take bets on how long I can last before I cut your head off?"
Cordelia felt lightheaded, tried desperately to take a breath, but the weight of Katherine on her chest, and the cutting off of her oxygen only made her dizzy.
Her eyes tried to look past Katherine, into the room where everyone congregated, but Katherine just shook her head, pressed the blade tighter.
"Not a sound, Chase."
Closing her eyes, she finally nodded.
Katherine's other knee pushed down on her hand, and her grip was useless, as Katherine reached over, grabbing the blade.
Cordelia's hold held.
"Let go, Chase."
Cordelia swallowed, but her eyes opened and she glared, trying desperately to hold her strength despite her lack of air.
"Fine."
The crack that came was so very audible, and Cordelia flinched, whimpered as the jolt of pain came with the broken fingers.
Katherine took the blade, holding it almost reverently as she stood, swinging it slightly.
Once the pressure was off, Cordelia could breathe, and she did, sucking in huge gasping breaths as she kept her broken fingers close to her.
"Katherine-"
"Spike is raising a demon to possess the handler of this sword. That's not happening. When I win this, it'll be on my own terms, with my own blade, in my own battle."
Cordelia closed her eyes against the pain, pushing back against the wall, blinking them open again when she heard the words.
"Katherine - you-"
"Kill the demon or kill me, Cordelia. That's the only way you're stopping this. See you around." With the two blades in her hand, Katherine turned, walking away, pulling herself up over the wall, and disappearing.
There was nothing but darkness as Cordelia felt the pain, the bones knitting themselves back together with a crack and a whimper.
Biting her lip, she fought back the pain, taking deep breaths, looking carefully toward the open door, where the men worked, completely unaware.
SHIT.
Trembling slightly, she walked over to where her pad had fallen, picking up and with her good hand, punched in each number deliberately.
Waiting for the click, she heard the voice, and took a breath.
"It's Chase," she said finally. "I need a favor."
By Misty Flores - mistiec_flores@yahoo.com
Rating: R - for violence, sexual situations, and some language
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.
The Road Before Us: Chapter Twelve
Sunnydale, California 2009
The brightness in her face made her groan, jolting her into consciousness as she moved instinctively, hand slipping away from the muscled chest to cover her eyes, sighing when she saw nothing but darkness again.
When she heard the low chuckle, she muttered, "Shut UP Xander," ignoring the warm hand that slid up her waist and pulled her in closer to his side.
Her body, lazy with sleep, settled against him as she parted her fingers slowly.
"Why is it, wherever the hell I sleep, I always get hit by the damn sunlight!?"
"You used to like sunlight, Cordelia," came the sleepy voice of her husband.
She only gave a slow, light growl, stretching against him and reaching out to throw the covers over her head, letting out a contended sigh.
"I like the dark," she mumbled.
And it was true, she did like the dark, with the. darkness. Chase Winters had come to understand something about lightness and darkness - and although she had often cherished the sunlight she never got to see, thanks to the fighting and the quickening and Sunnydale's relatively late hours - darkness had become her place.
In the light, in the daytime, she had become to feel more and more exposed. Daylight held no secrets, everything splayed out in the open, for everyone to see - in the darkness there was room for shadows, room for secrets - room for Immortals with double lives.
Over the years she become less and less involved with the light, less and less involved with making it a point to attend Ruppy's baseball games or Rachel's soccer games - and more and more she had felt the tension that arose because of it.
"Yeah, I know. You need a tan, Cordy." She only growled something intelligible and hugged him closer, burying her face into his chest and making a decision not to move ever again.
"Where were you last night?"
One eye creaked open when he raised the sheet peer into her face. Xander had aged well. He looked like a man, with a little premature grey in his hair. Married young, lost so many lives, young - and the constant stress of creating a family with a barely there wife when he himself had never had a stellar first hand experience from it, it was all making it's point, and taking it's toll.
But he had proved himself, proved he could, even when she barely came home, and even when their adopted children asked time and time again why Mommy looked so young and why she was never home.
"Xander," she began, stretching against him, closing her eyes. "You always ask and I always give you the same answer. I'm not telling you. Let it go."
"And I'm always going to keep asking. But hey, who the hell am I? You know, only your husband. Geez. FAITH knows more about my wife than I do."
The bitter answer made Cordelia groan, and she sighed, sitting up, finally pulled out of her want of sleep, to look at her husband with a passive expression.
"Okay, fine. You want to know what I did last night, Xander? Since Faith is in Los Angeles, I had to track a Yrackier demon for five miles on foot. We got into a fight, and he came close to raping me. Then he cut out my kidneys, ate them, and threw me off a cliff. When I came to, three of my ribs were broken and I had lost most of my blood - so after about four hours of barely conscious agony-"
"Stop." His voice was choked, harsh, and her heart tremored slightly when she heard it, but she only crossed her arms, and kept going.
"And I fainted. I woke up, covered in blood- again, lost my sword, spent two hours trying to find it, and then had to retrace the demon all the way back to it's lair, which was littered with corpses, a few of them human-"
"Cordy-"
"No, Xander! I'm sharing!"
"DAMMIT Cordy!" He rose, throwing aside the bed covers as he reached for his pants, pulling them, turning to glare at her as he ran distracted hands over his disheveled hair.
The look in his face was plain agony, but she got the point, as she took a breath, and settled back down on the bed, pulling the covers back over herself.
"Xander there are parts of myself - of my life that I don't want you to know. That you don't HAVE to know. And it's okay."
"No it's not." His voice was heavy, as he came forward again, chocolate brown eyes gentle and almost moist as his hands slipped to her shoulder. "Look. Yeah it hurts okay? To. see that part of you. But I knew about that when I married you. I knew what I was getting. And I want it."
Her heart was beating fast, and over the years she had come to cherish the heartbeat. Her senses arose, her awareness grew with every quickening and she could count them, would count them at times when she was distracted, worried, saddened.
This heartbeat slowed.
"Xander - you don't get it. I'm . honored that you to know about every death, and every spell and every torn muscle. But I don't want you to know."
He swallowed, his jaw tightening as she continued.
"Do you understand? I have this. life here. This is my sanctuary. You and. and Rachel and Rupert and Willow - it's. light here. And Faith and me - we're part of the darkness - and you can't mix that."
Her hand reached out, placed carefully into his palm, as she let her fingers tangle with his, the rings clinking slightly as she gave him a sad smile.
"I have barely enough time with you as it is. I'd rather we talk about. happy stuff."
He looked down, at the entwined fingers, at Cordelia's eternally young ones, and he let out a harried breath.
"Fine," he finally said. "Fine, Cordelia. But you . you have to understand that it hurts not knowing."
"And you have to understand - that it hurts just as much to know."
Their eyes locked, and suddenly the moment was broken when the door was flung open, and a little Asian girl ran into the room.
"Breakfast!"
Cordelia's face slipped into a smile as Rachel clamored onto the bed, dark eyes shining. "Mommy! Can we have pancakes?"
"If Daddy makes them, sure."
"Hey midget!" Xander grinned, grabbing the girl and tickling her mercilessly.
The younger girl squirmed, digging into Xander's ribs and then launched over, attacking Cordelia with an "oomph".
"Mommy you're staying, today, right?"
The little dark eyes looked up at her, eternally shining, eternally adorable, and eternally loving.
"Sure, sweetheart. I'm staying."
Her eyes rose to meet Xander's, and when he tossed her a hesitant grin, she reached out, grabbed his fingers, and squeezed.
--
The coffee was grainy, and it tasted bad.
She never noticed, as she leaned back on the chair feet propped up against the desk, her cup warming her palms.
Angel had taken off the ring.
Her own ring, hidden in her cleavage, had been warmed by her skin, a contrast to Angel's.
It had been the metal that had awoken her this morning, tangled in the sheets, legs splayed over a pair of curiously cold legs, arms wrapped around a cool body, face buried in a strong, masculine neck.
Metal rings had tangled together, and Cordelia, opening her eyes, didn't quite understand at first, what it was they had done.
But Angel, with his ringless hand, held her close, not breathing, eyes closed, still, completely still.
When she shifted slightly she earned herself an unconscious growl, as the vampire suddenly came to life, to throw his legs on top of hers and wrap his arms around her tighter.
She had waited, as he sniffed her in his sleep, nuzzling her neck, and she felt the smile against her cheek as he gave a soft, low moan, before keeping his grip tight and letting his head fall back to the pillow.
Cordelia was never one for one night stands, and she knew, despite the long years of loneliness with a boundsoul, that Angel wasn't either. Angel was a man who had to be pushed to express him, attempting to separate himself from the vampire Angelus as much as possible. Angelus had screwed and fucked - Angel made love.
She closed her eyes, as her fingers edged between their naked bodies, trying to untangle the rings and necklaces.
Her fingers worked, carefully, slowly, and she gave a sigh of relief when she finally freed hers from his, carefully palming hers and even more carefully moving Angel's very possessive hands.
Half an hour later she was rooted to the desk, drinking the old coffee, showered, completely obliterating any remnants of the night of passion with Angel.
Even the marks, small bite marks - nothing major- and large hickeys were gone, thanks to her ever healing Immortal body.
But her mind still burned, and Cordelia waited with apprehension, unsure and unwilling and not wanting to be there when the vampire awoke alone.
"You look one shot short of a good time."
She turned, and found Lorne, the Host, or whatever his name was standing in a robe, rubbing at a spot just under his horns.
"Itchy?"
"Right around the horns. It's so annoying, but ah well - beauty has its price."
"Doesn't it though," she responded shortly, before taking another sip and grimacing. "Do you know how to make a decent up of coffee?"
"Honey I can make the best apple martini this side of Los Angeles - but please don't ask me to deal with caffeine," he said, inspecting the small cooler. "Though shouldn't I be offering you a cigarette?"
He tossed her a glance, and Cordelia only sighed, quirking a finger in his direction. "Bring it on."
"Didn't know you smoked," he said, but came forward obediently, settling down across from her and handing her a white stick.
"I don't - but eventually you do it sporadically when you're my age. Not like it kills you." With trembling fingers she took the cigarette, bringing it to her lips and moving forward, breathing in as he held the match under it, watching the tip burn.
He was quiet, pursing his lips, and finally he sat back, crossing his arms. "You're all full of piss and vinegar, aren't you sugar lips?"
She blew her breath out, careful to blow the smoke away from the man's face. "What do you mean?"
He was quiet for a moment, as if framing his words, and finally began again, "You realize that doing what you did last night wasn't exactly. constructive?"
She cocked an eyebrow, keeping a straight face as she responded, "Does my aura say that too, Lorne?"
"Oh, honey I heard the screams."
"I don't scream during sex. I'm not very vocal at all."
"And thanks for that little insight. I was being sarcastic."
"So was I."
"As much as I love this little debate, sweetie, maybe we should get back to the business at hand. You realizewe're running out of time."
Her blood was very close to boiling, but Chase Winters merely kept her lips shut tight as she knocked the cigarette on the ash tray, letting the ashes fall before bringing it to her mouth again, taking in the nicotine.
She hadn't lied to Lorne, she rarely smoked, but there was certain purity in the action that allowed her to think - to understand and control herself.
"Hey. Green Guy? You're not telling me anything I don't already know, and when Angel comes down I appreciate you leaving us alone to talk this out, without your little talk of auras and colors and . that - where on earth did you even FIND a crushed velvet robe in this day and age?"
"The big dope has a crush, sweetie."
She swallowed, and nodded, blowing out another breath of smoke, eyes roving toward the stairs.
"I know."
--
There was darkness in the air.
He could smell it, taste it, and it filled his soul with fear, as his fingers reached for the warm body and there was nothing but cold air and cold blankets, a telltale sign that he had been alone for a while.
Panic had been an option at first, but her scent still clung to the sheets, and he inhaled, taking it in, and finally allowed himself to breathe again - at least. figuratively.
Pulling on pants and a sweater, he stumbled toward the door, careful to run his hands through his hair as he walked to the hallway, hearing the murmurs of Lorne and his lover.
Lover.
Angel closed his eyes, steadied himself on the balcony and let a small smile slide across his lips.
It seemed almost foreign, the small gentle smile that caressed his features.
In the darkness there was a spot of light - one thing he needed to cling to, because with his ever increasing alertness he began to remember.
Travis was dead.
The world was in peril.
A vampire demon with a soul was no match against the higher beings, against the Immortals - and no one would know the outcome - the coming darkness.
He had woken once during the night, found her body splayed across his and he had remembered smiling as he registered her face, her eyes, her even breath as her chest rose and fell against his.
One moment of peace and solitude, as his hands began to caress her body, down her legs, up to her shoulders, feeling her stir under his gentle ministrations.
His lips had clung to hers as she slowly escaped the realms of Morpheus, lips moving against his.
It had been slow that time, slow and soft and he had kept his eyes locked on hers the entire times, watchingas his lips trailed her jawbone, lips clinging to her bottom one, suckling as she arched beneath him, emitting a tiny squeak of pleasure, before her entire body trembled.
His eyes had closed when it was over, but he kept her near him, against him, never letting her go.
And he had woken up alone.
Angel had never shared a bed someone since Buffy - had never wanted to wake up with a lover until now - and strangely.
He shook off the confusion, palm over the ring as he walked down the stairs, faltering when he saw the figures seated at the table.
"Hey."
Cordelia was showered, dressed, a cigarette in her hand and a tightened smile on her face.
"Hey."
"You smoke?"
"They all do, Angelcakes. Perks of having a recyclable set of lungs." Lorne stood, nodding to them. "Going to make sure the bar is ready."
He walked away, but Angel barely saw him, instead watching Cordelia, who carefully placed the cigarette into the ashtray, butting it out.
"Amazing, huh?" she said after a minute, watching the burning embers at the end of the crumpled cigarette. "One hundred years and we don't have Pepsi - but we still have these little bastards."
In what seemed to be becoming a familiar feeling, Angel felt unsure.
A deep knot settled in his stomach at the way Cordelia deliberately avoided his stare, and when he came forward, it twisted when she finally looked into his eyes.
"Angel, last night was a mistake."
There was no reaction - pure numbness.
His mouth was dry. He swallowed, and flashes of Cordelia under him, over him, face awash in ecstasy, beautiful, intense-
"A mistake?"
"Katherine went Anakin on us, Angel," she continued, her voice firm. "She went all. Darth Vader and to the dark side. She. Last night she tried to kill me."
The words sunk in, and still they seemed to have no meaning. Cordelia's fingers continued to play with the now shredded little white stick.
"She was the reason - she was your Damsel, Angel. And because of me, we might have just royally screwed it up and destroyed the world because we've lost her - because we were so busy obsessing about our hormones that we never saw she was having her OWN vampire issues."
"Last night was a mistake."
The voice was calm, almost deadly, and it took her by surprise, as she shot him a startled glance.
"What do you call it?"
"I call it making love."
"Angel did you listen to me?"
"We can save Kat."
"No- Angel, we can't! She's gone! She's bitter and angry and she thinks I love you!"
"She thinks you love me."
She paused, but he only narrowed his eyes, not allowing her to see how the words affected him, not even as her eyes teared up and she looked away, trying to gather her composure.
"Angel," she began in a softer tone, "Look, I'm not saying I didn't. it was my fault too-"
"FAULT?!"
"Angel - just LISTEN dammit-"
"Why the hell should I, Cordelia? You're sorry we fucked? Okay! Point taken. Thanks Cordy you were a damn good lay-"
"Don't."
Her words were choked with barely there emotion, teeming at the surface, but never quite coming out the way they should have.
"Don't what?"
"Don't cheapen it Angel."
"You made it a mistake."
"I made it the only thing I could Angel!" She retorted, slamming her hand down on the table, "Because I knowwhat's coming and this won't matter when I'm dead."
Startled at the choice of words, he could only gaze at her, studying her for a clue into the sentence, his mouth opening slightly at the admission.
"You're scared?"
But her face was hidden under the curtain of her hair, as she took in a breath, ignoring the question.
"Katherine thinks that Nick isn't evil. That he's capable of love."
"Some vampires are."
She looked up, her voice even as she straightened finally, regarding him. "So we're just supposed to let it happen."
"There's a difference between loving something and loving what they are, Cordelia," he said, eyes narrowing. "Katherine doesn't understand evil - her world has been tainted by her losses and she sees him and can't make the distinction. Evil always hides under a cloud of deception and beauty is its favorite tool."
--
Sunnydale, CA 1998
The world was grim, swaying, drowning in an edge of reality and a cobweb of disillusionment.
He blinked once, looking up and suddenly he saw her, staring at him with. was that a sword?
"Buffy?"
Carefully, he tried to stumble to his feet, but his mind was so muddled and there was pain - there was so much pain. "Buffy, what's going on? I don't remember. where are we?"
"Angel?" Her voice was uncertain, as the sword came down, and he swallowed back the weakness, hands reaching for her.
"You're hurt." Oh, God, she looked so scared. What happened? Gentleness overwhelmed him and he carefullypulled her in, savoring her scent, relief and confusion tainting his words. "God I feel like I haven't seen you in months.. Buffy, everything's so muddle."
His eyes closed, and she began to tremble, soft sobs that were barely recognizable sliding through her and he held as well as he could with his waning strength, heart beginning to burst and break as he closed his eyes, letting her cling to him.
"Oh, Buffy."
Behind him, there was a noise. Her eyes opened and focused and he turned and it was there. a statue.
"Buffy? What's happening?"
His eyes bore into hers, hoping against hope that his little Slayer could explain what he didn't know, could explain the searing pain in his heart and the agony-
But she only gazed at him through sheen of wet tears, and offered him a small smile.
"Shhh." she said, gently framing his face. "It doesn't matter."
Her lips touched his, and in that Angel found his peace, as his eyes closed and his arms wound around her, moving his lips against hers desperately.
Acceptance, love. and nothing else mattered.
She pulled away, and he watched her, desperately.
"I love you."
"I love you," he responded immediately, clinging to her, the pain still searing his soul but it was okay because Buffy.
"Close your eyes."
He did, trusting her completely, even as her eyes watered and her grip fell away.
The pain flared up, and his eyes opened wide.
He was impaled.
Unsure, bewildered, in pain, he looked up, pleadingly.
"Buffy?"
He tried to reach for her, but she seemed so far away, small and lonely and scared and OH GOD WHAT WAS HAPPENING?
"Buffy?"
And the warm beams seared through him, pulling him, swallowing him into the darkness, the abyss of eternal loneliness.
--
There was quiet as he stood, opening his eyes against the past, and found Cordelia with her hand on her head.
"Are you okay-"
With a cry she suddenly jerked back, topping over the chair and landing with a thud on the ground.
Immediately he was at her side, grabbing her arms, pulling her trembling body up his thighs, pressing her against his chest.
"Cordy! What's wrong-"
She gave a whimper, her head banging back against him, crying out as tears streamed from her face.
Her hands sought his, gripped them as her eyes opened and her body suddenly stilled.
Deep, heaving breaths that bordered on rasps came from the smaller body, as she gripped his hands tightly, eyes wide and unseeing.
"What the HELL was that?!"
"What happened?"
"Scratch and sniff in my head! And the smell - have you SMELT burning flesh? And UH - who the hell put the TV antennae in my brain?!"
"TV-antennae-" His thoughts were whirling, jaw dropping slightly as he blinked, looking away, thinking.
"You kissed Travis before- Cordelia did you just have a vision?"
"No I just had a migraine the size of Antarctica!"
"So the Powers chose a new Seer, did they?" Angel looked up to find Lorne kneeling in front of Cordelia, offering her two small white pills and a cup of water.
"Help her up, Angel; meet your new Link to the Powers."
Cordelia was still dazed, and Angel was careful with her, as she gripped his forearms, letting him help her onto her feet and into a chair.
Shaking slightly, she took the pills, downing the water immediately after.
Angel kept his hands on her shoulders, kneading gently as his eyes locked with Lorne's. "She can't be the new Seer."
"She was in the right place, at the right time, with the appropriate feelings of guilt," The Host said simply, crossing his arms as Cordelia shuddered, watching her grimly. "These things are never an accident."
"Wait, wait!" she interrupted, finally gaining enough control over her whirling senses to pin them both underneath her hazel gaze. "What the hell are you saying?"
--
The lingering remnants of the headache still existed. She sucked in a hiss and rubbed at her temples, swallowing down another gulp of water, and sorely regretting not giving into her temptation for another cigarette.
"I didn't ask for this. Geez. Why couldn't it have been mono, or herpes-"
"No one asks for anything, sweetheart," Lorne said, leaning forward on crossed arms. "Angelcakes over there didn't ask to be made a champion, Travis didn't ask to die-"
"I don't even know if I'm going to make it through the end of the Gathering!" she finally snapped, ignoring Angel's frown as she continued to rant. "I just." she buried her hands in her hair, hiding her face, still for a moment.
It was too much. There was dying all around her, and now there was pain and dying and feeling inside of her too? In her head, in her brain? Splintering every sense?
"I wanted out of this," she whispered, so small she thought no one heard her.
Her eyes were moist as she blinked back the tears, looking up and locking eyes with the vampire. "Is this the part where I tell you about the vision?" she began haltingly.
His eyes bore into hers, as if trying to read into her very soul. The look in his eyes was haunting, the dark orbs processing, calculating, eternally sorry for his past wrongs, for the future wrongs, for the pain that had been passed from Seer to Seer - and now to her.
She wished for the smile, the beautiful smile that was so gentle across his features, lighting up his entire face.
She had seen the smile last night, when he cupped her face with his hands and leaned forward, gently pressing his lips against hers.
"Yeah," he finally said. "Travis. he had this. device that would allow us to record them when they came-"
"I'm not putting one of those things in my head, Angel."
"I'm not asking you to. Just tell me what you saw."
It was a moment before she was able to put what she saw into words.
"There was. a dark room. like a ballroom or something. And. Katherine. well she's not the damsel anymore."
"What do you mean?" Angel's brow was furrowed, the concern displayed so evidently on his face made her offer a small, grim, bitter smile of irony, as her fingers weaved through her hair, pulling slightly at the corner in an attempt to create a small tingle that would ebb away the pain.
Lorne was uncharacteristically silent.
"I. The damsel. is me. I think. I don't know. It's dark and we're fighting and she's got . some sort of power. and there's an ugly grey blobby thing-"
"Uh. sugar lips? We need something a little more concrete than that."
The look she sent Lorne could have scathed a lesser man.
"The gist? Her or me, okay? I mean geez, give me a break, okay? I'm kinda new at this!"
She was trembling, and she bit her lip, crossing her arms in an attempt to still herself. Anxiety coursed through her, heat seared through her body and she shifted, the ache fading away as she felt a tingle, her mind and body almost feverish with response.
"Oh, God."
Quickly she stood, retrieving the sword that was alien to her, palming the handle carefully.
Her gaze once again drifted to Angel's, but his attention was no longer on her, but rather, his eyes were riveted on some point behind her.
The door closed, locked, and Cordelia turned, her eyes blazing as she almost smiled in anticipation.
Lawyers and two Immortals.
She cocked her head, nodding to her two fellow warriors.
"There can be only one."
--
Sprawling across from him, it was as if nothing had changed.
Her fingers carefully slid up his chiseled chest, fingernails circling one hard nub, and smiling in response when she felt the nerves jump underneath.
A small chuckle came from his body, making it almost alive under her touch.
Dark midnight eyes met equally dark orbs of a dead vampire, but it was Nick, and there was passion that glowed there.
It was colder than usual, than she remembered, but she remembered every curve, every line, ever ripple and shudder underneath her hands were so familiar.
It was Nick, and even after a hundred years, there he was, with that half smile, the same strand that fell into his hair.
He was patient, as she explored his body.
"Done yet?" he asked.
"Not yet," she responded, shifting closer, and with a wicked smile, playing her mouth around one nipple, sucking in hard, hearing him gasp in response. She grinned, mumbling around it. "You're not the only one who can bite."
The low growl was almost a turn on, and the extra strength counted for something when he bucked up, pushing her back roughly on the bed, landing on her.
Ridges marred the perfect face - the face of a demon, with yellow eyes.
She watched, fascinated, no fear, even when the fangs bared.
With hesitant fingers, she reached forward, touching the ridges, hearing him hiss in response.
Careful, so careful, she explored the new part of him, and smiled in response.
Eternity.
Settled between her thighs, he rocked his hardness against her, and her chest rose and fell, eyes darkening in arousal.
"You evil bastard."
"I'm evil," he responded immediately. "I don't give a fuck about anyone or anything, but damn baby, I love you."
The words were edged with need, and she smiled, eyes moist as his head drifted down to slant his lips over hers, tongue almost pierced by the sharpness of the fangs.
"What? No biting?"
The low grow rumbled through her husband, and it almost reached into her, as Nick propped himself up on hand, turning to glare at the vampire in the doorway.
"That's half the bloody fun of sex with a corpse," Spike said, taking another drag of the cigarette as he took another step into the room, kicking the door behind him shut. "Otherwise what's the damn point?"
"Get out," Nick growled, drawing up the sheet to her torso, covering her from Spike as he clenched his hand almost tightly around her waist.
Spike only flicked cold, calculating eyes over her, in a stare that seemed to burn with its chill, and clipped, "What's she doing here?"
"She's mine."
"She's a bloody Immortal," Spike said, settling into a leather chair, rubbing out the cigarette onto it.
Katherine heard the hiss as he snuffed it out, and she felt strangely cold, fear once again entering the equation.
Immortals were killers - but they weren't cold blooded.
"Get her out of here."
Her eyes narrowed, but Nick jumped the gun first, sliding out of the bed nude and marching up to Spike, who only glanced down and then up again.
"Happy to see me, are we?"
"She's the one."
"She's not the One. She's fickle and half crazy. And she's bloody old. I've got someone else now."
Katherine held the sheet to her chest, her mind amazingly cool despite the situation.
Nick had told her enough to understand what would happen to whomever they choose.
They would be the only one left standing.
And fuck it if she was going to lose her head just when she got her heart back.
"I'm the One, Spike."
There was almost a hint of a smile in his face as he looked around Nick's nude form to her.
"Katherine. Nice to see you developed a spine in all this. Lovely tits, by the way."
"What the fuck did you do with the sword?" Nick growled, hands pulling into dangerous fists.
Spike didn't answer, but gave him an annoyed glance, fishing into his leather duster for the packet of cigarettes.
Without a word, he lit another, breathing in deeply, and blowing the smoke directly into Nick's face.
With that he stood, pushed Nick roughly out of the way, and walked to Katherine.
"You want it, Katherine?"
His eyes bore into hers, cold hands on her thighs, seeping their coldness through the worn sheet.
The threat was in the challenge, as his face gave way to the demonic one, the killer.
But she stilled her heartbeat as she looked at Nick, and her mouth turned into an almost mischievous smile he seemed to appreciate, when she nodded.
"That's my girl. Cordelia Chase has the sword that you need. It's the key - a little spellbinding - get the sword, you get the demon it awakes. Get the sword; you get to be the one."
Quicker than lightening, he was on top of her, mouth parting hers roughly, kissing her with fangs uncaring, leaving her with the taste of bitter blood on her tongue as he pulled of, smiling cheekily at Nick who growled, pushing him off the bed.
"The sword, Kat. Be a good girl and get it back - or else Cordelia will win - and you're deader than a doornail."
With that, he turned away, slamming the door shut behind him.
--
A complicated action pared down to its simplest component.
Higher beings, creatures who roamed the earth for thousands of years, learning, growing wiser with each year, more powerful with every head taken, were still governed by the thoughts, realities and emotions of pure mortals.
Animalistic dances, read in the faces and lodged in the mind as the Immortals, revered by mortals and feared by vampires.
In the end, it was about killing, about winning.
She paid no attention to the lawyers, no attention to Lorne who said this was a sanctuary, she knew the spell paid absolutely no mind to her - she was no demon.
It was the need to kill that had infected her, in her body and flowing down to the extension that she had come to cherish, the metal blade that felt slightly foreign, but fit perfectly in her hand.
The vampire tried to whisper to her, and then spoke louder, but she gave him no attention, as she and the Immortals who had come to challenge her circled, like animals, younger against still younger.
When the first struck, it was clear that there was no match.
As soon as the blades clung together, he had been flung to the wall.
He came back and it took only a duck, a kick in the ribs and a twist for her to take his head.
The blood splattered over her clothes, and smeared across her cheek, and the back of her mind told the diva she would regret the stains, would complain and gripe, but at that moment, only the glory of the kill, the waiting of the inevitable testament to her victory was on her mind.
When the Quickening came, she welcomed it, not caring who was watching.
And when it was over, spent and sweaty on the floor, she looked up and found nothing was the same.
Lawyers were scattered, the other Immortal had long since run, and Angel and the Host were both looking at her as if they were seeing a stranger.
Her bloodlust sated, Cordelia felt herself coming back, the mortality easing away to reveal the humanity, and she took a breath, carefully climbing to her feet, thankful when Angel stepped forward, keeping his grip on hers.
Forgetting her earlier promise in her weakness, she leaned forward, forehead resting in the crook of his neck, taking in a breath, more relieved than she would have liked to admit when he slid his arms around her, sheltering her from her loss of control, stroking her gently until she was ready to be herself again.
Her fingers clung to the black wool, breathing in the scent, her body trembling.
"What the hell- the sword - when she hit the sword-"
"What are you still doing here?" She felt the growl under her cheek. "Get out."
"No."
Carefully, she extracted herself from his grip, eyes locking with the dark orbs of concern before taking a harried breath, moving away.
"Cordelia-"
"No." Moving toward the desk, she picked up the stray towel from her bath, rubbed at the blood with it, finally turning to the lawyers. "It's the sword. And it's me. You've seen what the sword can do, so either stop being pestering rats, and let me stop it- or you're going to have me being the most powerful chick in the world. Not a good thing for you."
Mr. Weathers, with his salt and pepper hair and his too bright tie, studied her with the cold stare she had come to admire.
He didn't consider himself evil. He had three children and a wife who he tried very hard to be faithful to.
He had a house in the valley and donated a portion of his money to the refugee's states fund.
He wasn't a stupid man.
He was also powerful. Cordelia knew that she was dealing with no regular junior partner - when he spoke, he spoke for Wolfram and Hart.
He licked his lips, dug his hands in his pockets, and considered every angle, every possibility to avoid having her take over the world.
And just like she knew it would, her logic won out.
"Wolfram and Hart has no interest in seeing this Endgame start before it's time," he began finally. "Consider our resources yours, for the time being."
And please don't forget we mean to screw you with everything we have when we figure out how to get around it and get our hands on that sword, Cordelia added mentally.
She was making a deal with the devil.
Angel shifted, shaking his head emphatically, fully intending to push the lawyers he hated out of his hotel when the hand on his elbow stopped him.
Angrily he shook the host off.
"This is bullshit."
"It's the only way, Angel."
The use of his name, not 'Angelcakes' or 'Sugarlips', but Angel, made him pause, glare at his friend and companion and prepare to offer another argument when Lorne only shook his head.
Lorne's face was somber, a different look that didn't quite look right on him.
"Listen, cutie pie, that Cordy chick? A little bit of a basket case right now but you have to trust her instinct. We can't stop this alone - she's got a hold over the lawyers as long as she has that sword-"
"They can't be trusted!"
"And neither can she!" The whisper was fierce, as Lorne pulled Angel back, away from where Cordelia was talking with the lawyers, where Mr. Weathers spoke to her in a low, soothing voice. "She's infected Angel, and if you try to play by any other way, we're just adding more wood to the fire."
That wasn't what he wanted to hear. Angel's hands pulled into fists, banged into his sides. Tension coursed through him like a coiled spring. For so long the danger had been him. The unworthy demon had been the source of fear.
Cordelia had been constant. Cordelia had been strong. Cordelia had been strong when no one else stayed and Cordelia had been the first to take off the ring.
She had also been the one to leave his bed this morning.
And she had been the one to push him away.
And the Cordelia Chase he knew would never have allowed blood to splatter on her without wiping it off immediately.
The Cordelia Faith knew wouldn't either.
But Chase Winters would-
It had been Chase who had left Angel's bed - it had been Chase who buried Cordelia behind the walls of fear - and it was Chase - the Immortal who relished the kill.
He exhaled deeply, crossing his arms and keeping them tight across his chest as the lawyers began to take off blazers and loosen their ties, already on phones and typing on pads.
It had all been so simple now - and it filled him with true, real fear.
Immortals were no different than vampires with souls.
Chase was Cordelia's demon.
--
Twice, she had caught him staring at her as if she were a stranger.
Both times she only gave him a tight smile, looking away just as quickly.
Was he regretting it? Regretting the smiles and the low moans of ecstasy?
God, Cordelia, don't even -
She shook herself out of it, turning back to Weathers.
"The scrolls. are you sure?"
"No," he said, rubbing his temples slowly. "But it has quite a few things to say. We have used it as a tool before to -"
"If you say 'to hurt Angel', or any variation of that phrase, I'm going to kill you," she said simply.
He gave her a long look, and just shrugged. "Then I won't. But it might be useful."
"Then get it."
He nodded.
"I'm going to make some calls outside," she said finally, turning her back to him and carefully avoiding Angel's gaze as she kept the sword in her hand and moved to the courtyard, into the exposed light.
Her eyes squinted in the daylight, and she almost stepped away from it, but necessity took its toll and instead she stepped forward, letting the warmth bathe her.
She wasn't used to the light anymore.
In the darkness were the shadows, in the light there was. nothing to hide.
FUCK, Chase, get a grip.
Carefully, she began to punch in the numbers, thankful that she still remembered how to do it the old fashioned way.
What was the damn extension again? She took in a breath, looking down at the tiny pad, and felt the click in her ear.
So absorbed in her task, she noticed nothing, until a rush of air made her pause, turning and getting caught full in the face by a booted heel.
Lurching backwards, she stumbled on her feet and fell to the floor, hitting the back of her head on the ground, resulting in a blinding flash of pain.
Before she had a chance to regain her balance, the weight of a body settled neatly on top of her, kneecap digging into her esophagus, choking her breath.
Katherine waited, her eyes dark, focused.
"Hey, Chase."
Carefully, she deliberately placed the edge of her blade next to her neck.
"Now you know all about this whole gathering thing," she whispered fiercely. "Care to take bets on how long I can last before I cut your head off?"
Cordelia felt lightheaded, tried desperately to take a breath, but the weight of Katherine on her chest, and the cutting off of her oxygen only made her dizzy.
Her eyes tried to look past Katherine, into the room where everyone congregated, but Katherine just shook her head, pressed the blade tighter.
"Not a sound, Chase."
Closing her eyes, she finally nodded.
Katherine's other knee pushed down on her hand, and her grip was useless, as Katherine reached over, grabbing the blade.
Cordelia's hold held.
"Let go, Chase."
Cordelia swallowed, but her eyes opened and she glared, trying desperately to hold her strength despite her lack of air.
"Fine."
The crack that came was so very audible, and Cordelia flinched, whimpered as the jolt of pain came with the broken fingers.
Katherine took the blade, holding it almost reverently as she stood, swinging it slightly.
Once the pressure was off, Cordelia could breathe, and she did, sucking in huge gasping breaths as she kept her broken fingers close to her.
"Katherine-"
"Spike is raising a demon to possess the handler of this sword. That's not happening. When I win this, it'll be on my own terms, with my own blade, in my own battle."
Cordelia closed her eyes against the pain, pushing back against the wall, blinking them open again when she heard the words.
"Katherine - you-"
"Kill the demon or kill me, Cordelia. That's the only way you're stopping this. See you around." With the two blades in her hand, Katherine turned, walking away, pulling herself up over the wall, and disappearing.
There was nothing but darkness as Cordelia felt the pain, the bones knitting themselves back together with a crack and a whimper.
Biting her lip, she fought back the pain, taking deep breaths, looking carefully toward the open door, where the men worked, completely unaware.
SHIT.
Trembling slightly, she walked over to where her pad had fallen, picking up and with her good hand, punched in each number deliberately.
Waiting for the click, she heard the voice, and took a breath.
"It's Chase," she said finally. "I need a favor."
