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  Thirteen

London, England

The murmurs of the Council, the teeming mass of old men and few women in the small, packed room, used to frighten him. Mr. Jacobs had never gotten far within the inner ranks and cliques of the Council for the simple fact that crowds terrified him.

He had often wondered why the Council, who spent so much time alone, with no one but their unknowing Immortal for company, prided themselves so much on their eloquent speech skills.

Today he was facing their wrath, and oddly, never had he felt more confident, more sure of himself than the moment he stepped onto the pulpit, met with accusing glares and anger.

"Council wishes to address Fellowman Jacobs."

"If it would please the Council," Mr. Serves stood, his bald head mottled with pink. "Mr. Jacobs should not be here."

"He has not yet been fired from the Council," said the head of the Council, rubbing at his forehead tiredly. "He has a right to speak."

"He has broken the rules-"

"I had good reason!"

"GENTLEMEN!" The Slayer Council head, a Mr. Raven Giles, slammed his palms down on the table. "This is not order unless we make it so. Mr. Serves, if you would please take your seat until Mr. Jacobs gives the floor." That said, he turned his gaze onto the younger man. "As for you, Mr. Jacobs, I suggest you restrain yourself. You have enough anger directed at you as it is."

He took a breath, nodding, and exhaling slowly, turning to watch the eyes that were set on him.

"I cannot begin to describe the urgency of this situation. Again, I thank the Slayer's Council for coming, Mr. Giles, thank you for your acceptance of this matter."

Mr. Giles just gave a nod, motioning for him to continue.

"I am aware that in the past this Council has had their differences, but now we have a crisis that concerns us both. I assume you've all read your briefs?"

"I had a little trouble getting past the first paragraph," tossed one old Watcher dryly, "After the part where you SPOKE to your Immortal."

Small rumbles of agreement spurted across the room.

Mr. Jacobs took a moment to pull his glasses off, rubbing at his eyes. "Impartial. For centuries we have remained impartial. Where has it gotten us?"

"It is not our position to contest it, young man."

"The fate of the world is in the hands of a Vampire with a Soul and an Immortal! We can no longer afford to BE impartial!"

"Whether the world ends is of no consequences to us, Boy. We have our oath."

"And what about our lives?" He slammed his hand down on the podium, the microphone clipped to the side of his cheek accentuating the noise, sending the thump in resonating waves throughout the room. "And the lives of others? Watchers, we pride ourselves on knowing - on living - at least the Slayers have attempted to DO something. we are the last hope for humanity. Don't you think we've watched enough?"

"You're suggesting we ally ourselves with that Immortal. With the Vampire?" Giles said, removing his glasses in order to get a better look.

Mr. Jacobs took a breath, loosening his tie, taking the time to collect his thoughts before he answered. "I'm aware of what that means. I'm fully aware that what I'm asking is completely without reason and based only on passion for life and love for the future. But if that means completely obliterating our past, so be it. Without us the world is lost."

"You say the Immortal, this. Chase Winters. has an enchanted sword?"

"The last I heard, it was tainted by a vampire."

"And the Souled Vampire, Angelus-"

"Angel," he corrected.

"Angel, he is helping her?"

"The Powers that Be have also taken an interest. They have made the Immortal his Seer."

Quiet descended upon the room. The dark haired Watched looked back at Mr. Giles' impassive face.

"I realize we must take an impartial stance, but without our interference, the Gathering is coming, and a vampire has interfered. It is before it's time. Someone has already tampered." Mr. Jacobs closed his eyes, issuing a long, drawn out breath. "I believe we can help, put things right. They need our help - and the world- perhaps when we stop the Gathering before it's time. we can afford to be impartial again."

Mr. Giles raised his hand. "Mr. Jacobs there is something that I've never understood about your sector. You Immortal Watchers. Why must you be impartial? Why must you only watch? The key to our salvation, the key to the world, is interference. Our sector has always believed that information, given and past on generation to generation, helps and allows us to continue our work."

"The difference is, Mr. Giles," a member tossed from the other side of the room, "that we watch the higher beings, not the lower ones. Immortals will eventually decide the future of man kind. As mortals, it is not our place to question it."

"So that may be, sir," Mr. Giles answered, tapping his fingertips, "but I have it on very good authority that if your Immortals are allowed to continue with this farce of a Gathering, then a lower being will in fact be in charge."

"The demon raising! Yes!" Mr. Jacobs held up his pad, pointing to it emphatically. "This Immortal will not WIN based on anything but an enchanted sword! And a vampire is behind it!"

"But-"

"No buts." The voice that interrupted was smooth and gentle, but it ran with authority. Mr. Jacobs turned, found himself almost cringing as the lead member of the Council stood, body firm and taught. She crossed her arms, watching them all, and even Mr. Giles, well respected in every circle, gave her his full attention. "We are nearing the Endgame, that is true. But our position, what it feeds on, is the natural way. The coming of full circle. This is not the time." She slipped one dark lock behind her ear, and seated herself, the elder lady crossing her arms in the roomful of men. "Someone has already tampered with the endgame. We must stop it before it reaches it's unnatural end. Mr. Jacobs, you yourself said this young Immortal knew of us before she came to you?"

"Yes, ma'am."

Her dark eyes were thoughtful, lips pursed, and then she finally nodded. "Well then, we are doing nothing that changes things. Mr. Giles, your grandfather knew her well, did he not?"

"He loved her as his own."

"And your opinion?"

"I believe if anyone has a chance of stopping this, she and the vampire with the soul do. The Powers that Be have added their support. I believe that blessing enough."

"The Powers do not govern Immortals. They lead their own destiny."

"The child is a Seer, is she not?"

"Only because she chose it."

She closed her eyes, exhaling, lost in thought while the others looked on. "A vampire and an Immortal, working together. Who would have thought?" Her eyes opened, and pinpointed Mr. Jacobs. "As long as the Immortal and the Vampire work together, so shall these two councils."  She stood, her eyes moving over the two congregations. "Are we understood?"

There was silence.

"Any arguments that ensue, please be sure to stick them up your butt. The bridge has been crossed. I say we cross with the boat, before we get stranded."

The discussion started as soon as she left the room, but Mr. Jacobs felt a surge of relief flow through him as he felt the hand clap on his shoulder.

"She has much of her mother in her."

Terence turned to find Mr. Giles staring after her in admiration.

"Her mother?"

He smiled, nodding. "Didn't you know? Her grandmother knew your Immortal very well. Another crossover between these councils."

Terence's eyebrows furrowed in contemplation, attempting to picture the faces that his Immortal had encountered.

"Her grandmother?"

"Faith. The Black Sheep."

--

She heard the shouting before she entered the darkened mansion.

It was loud, the voices discernable even as she opened the door.

Carefully, she kept the blade close to her, feeling the tingling within her, fear reduced to her very core, hidden underneath a layer of resolve and pure, unfiltered anger.

The hope was there, along with the doubts, but Katherine had lived too long, lost too many times, and fought too many battles to care about the doubts- she had rarely felt hope in such copious amounts, and she would not lose it now.

Even if it meant losing her soul.

She had always relied on the power of her will, the power of her own unbending ability to never forget, and she relied on it more than ever, as she closed the door behind her, moving past the vampires who nestled and stood, staring at her, some with contempt, others with curiosity, and others with lustful hate.

Animals, the first word that came to mind as she crossed them, moving past them. Beneath her.

But Angel was a vampire, with his kind brown eyes tortured soul, and Nick, NICK was a vampire, with the dark, feral orbs that glittered with evil, but also, with love.

Was it really so different?

Immortals who succumbed to their animal instincts, who lived and breathed and only lived longer than necessary, outstaying their welcome, and in the end, always alone.

It was the loneliness that bit into her, forcing her to seal her face.

Simple, the one thing that drove her, the one thing that overturned a lifetime of good, a lifetime of living for others: she couldn't be alone anymore.

Opening the door, the shouting came in full force, the beached blonde vampire Spike sitting, looking dejectedly bored while the other vampire, her Nick, screamed and bellowed at him, hands clenched, those ridges marring his beautiful face.

The body wreaked tension, and Spike was rapidly losing patience.

She slammed the door behind her, causing them both to look up.

Spike tossed her a cheeky grin. "Kat! Lovely to see you. Got the sword?"

She wordlessly lifted it, showing him the blade.

Nick only narrowed his eyes, huffing in deeply, growling in a low, almost indiscernible rumble, coming from deep inside of his chest.

"I'm not going to be using it," she clipped, tossing the sword on the ground, letting it clatter into a corner. "I'm going to win this my own way."

He gave her a long look, blue eyes clear enough to drown in, as he shifted his lean body in the chair, one leg hooking over another in contemplation.

"I would pick that up," he said after a minute. "That's very important."

"Kat what the fuck are you doing?" Nick said.

"I said I'm winning this my own way." She tossed her dark curls behind her, dark blue eyes narrowing. "This ismy game."

"It's not your game, it's MY game," came the British accented voice, as the vampire still didn't move from his chair, looking again to the sword. "You, like anyone, are just a pawn."

"Don't talk to her like that," Nick said immediately.

Spike completely ignored him. "Let's get something completely clear, Kat," he said. "You are weak. You are weak and half baked and utterly insane. Without the sword, you are nothing. You know you're nothing. You know you stand no chance. You think Nick here was the reason you came back?" He shook his head almost patronizingly. "All you were looking for was a bloody excuse."

The words slithered through her, as she stood, rooted to her spot. Animal, beneath her. But his eyes held hers, the darkness and evil inside him haunted her, and she looked toward the sword as the rage came almost immediately, bubbling up and floating over.

"You're a bastard," she whispered, her words carried only by the dead silence of the room. "There is nothing you can say that will affect me."

"You sure?" he smiled, shrugged. "Here, I'll prove it." She watched, as he stood, fishing into his leather jacket.

He produced a stake, and ten feet away, she heard a screaming, realized it must have come from her, as thestake was suddenly buried into Nick's chest.

The dark-haired vampire looked down in surprise, and his eyes flew up to meet hers, but her rapidly blurring vision obstructed anything further, as the mottled version of her husband crumpled to the ground, and exploded into the dust.

And then there was nothing.

The ground rose up to meet her knees and she landed with a thump, watching in beseeching silence, palms unclenching in utter disbelief.

Numbness, completely disbelief, two seconds of turmoil and then the scream came, agonizing and complete with the splintering of hope and a shattered heart.

Her legs were shaky at best, but somehow she managed to get to the sword, reaching up and suddenly running into Spike's cold face.

His gaze pinned her, challenging and deadly and completely in control.

"You want to kill me, Kat?" he sneered, clenching her upper arms firmly, squeezing so hard it was painful. "Kill me then? Prove that he was the reason you got tired of fighting. Prove that he was the reason you lost hope and prove that the only reason you're doing this is your twisted version of love."

She raised the blade, but it was shaking, and it was so hard to see with the tears streaming down her face, but she held the blade inches away from his neck, eyes connected with this evil being.

His eyes held her, completely held her, and she tried, she tried so hard to make the sword move, but she couldn't, and suddenly the tears came full force, taking over her body.

Sinking to her knees, she didn't look as he snorted in disgust, moving back to the throne like chair, sinking into it and lighting up another cigarette.

"Bloody weak fool."

She trembled, hand wrapped around the blade, and closed her eyes and shuddered with hate. Hate at herself, hate at him, and hate at everything and everyone that had led her to this point.

In that moment, her entire world tipped sideways, and she saw the world through a different view.

Because Spike considered her beneath him.

--

There were Wolfram and Hart lawyers in his office and he couldn't kill them.

The champion received angry glares, threatening glances from them, and he gave as good as he got, as they moved from desk to desk, talking amongst themselves, on phones, bringing up everything they had on the Endgame.

He glanced into the courtyard.

Cordelia had her back to them, hair glistening in the sunlight, talking to mid air.

He closed his eyes against the sight, and moved off the desk, over to Lorne, who was sitting in the chair, engrossed in books.

"Any luck?"

"Oh no! I tell you some of these passages? Downright boring! You'd think these guys would have had a sense of humor."

He heaved a sigh. "I meant about what's coming? In your aura?"

"Oh." The Host looked up, his smirk fading. "Well this place is dark in that sense. Not really a beacon of shining light. You've got the biggest do- gooder vibe in here, and coming from the vampire, not a good sign."

"And Cordelia?"

He sighed, craning his neck to see around Angel to the Immortal standing outside. "That sword of hers is trouble. Alone, she doesn't stand a chance. With you, it's better."

"Better," Angel repeated.

"Better. Chase is a clouded person, cookie. You've seen it. By herself she feels she knows who she is, feels she won't be disappointed. She's a link, not a champion, not yet, but the Powers have seen fit to peg her as your Seer for a reason. Like it or not she's your Seer. She can't run anymore."

Angel crossed his arms, resisting another glance at her. "Running."

"Yes, running, you big dope. The old commitment 'phobe. Nothing too complicated there. You start to care, you run away before it starts to hurt. Standard of any relationship that went bad. Cordelia's lost everyone in her life she's loved. I have a feeling the little muffin thinks if she loses one more then it's over."

"You're saying she's running because she can't stand the loss?"

"Like champion, like Seer. You did, didn't you?"

"Angel." Mr. Weathers came forward, careful to stay at least five feet away from the vampire as he looked down at his own pad. "These visions that Ms. Winters had."

"I'm not telling you anything."

Mr. Weathers looked mildly annoyed. "I realize we have our past, Angel but- "

"I'm not telling you anything." This time the statement was followed with a low growl.

"Angel stop," Cordelia looked tired and she strode into the room, falling into a chair.

"Ms. Winters if we could see the sword-"

"Like I would let you get your hands on the sword," she snapped, running her fingers through her bangs. "Andeven so it's not even an issue. Kat stole it."

"What?"

Her eyes flickered to Angel and she offered a small shrug. "Yeap. Broke my fingers, beat me up and took it." She glanced at Mr. Weathers. "And if you think I'm bad with it, try a half crazy with grief Immortal on for size."

Mr. Weathers winced, closing his eyes, breathing out slowly. "The lesser of two goods?"

"Oh, she's not evil or good. Beige is a good way to describe her aura," Lorne muttered, scratching again at the area around his horns. He looked pointedly at Angel. "Remember what I said about her?"

"Lorne, I get that, okay?" Angel snapped, coming forward to inspect Cordelia's hand. "You okay?"

"Fine. Fingers are good as new," she said, twiddling them for his benefit, and then straightening away from him. "So, new plan?"

"I personally would be more than curious to know what it would be," Mr. Weathers said, as the other lawyers gathered around. He also slumped in the chair, and glared at his compatriot. "Since you let the sword get out of your hands."

"Yeah, you know, broken fingers and being choked to death really constitutes LETTING," she said. Angel glared at the lawyer, but she slipped a hand into his, keeping his form by her side, squeezing gently. Her fingers continued to caress his palms, almost tenderly, as she continued to speak to the lawyer. "So yeah, new plan. Consider the visions- and MAJOR OWWIEE, by the way," she snapped at Angel, keeping her hand in his. "All pinpoint to some major battle, right?"

"That seems to be the case."

"But I'm the champion, Cordelia," Angel said, momentarily distracted as she continued to gently caress him, moving away from his palm and now gently squeezing his forearm. The touch, the need for touch was driving her, or him, for that matter, but Angel had become inherently suspicious.

Cordelia was in the middle of something, there was something going on in her head, and he wasn't quite sure what it was. Like him, she had something deeper inside of her, another subconscious, one that had only recently pushed him away.

Carefully, he extracted the fingers, moving away, and she caught it, eyes darkening before she flushed and pulled her hands into her lap.

"You may be the champion, Angel," she finally admitted, shrugging slightly. "But this is my fight. And it looks pretty crystal clear. I kill Kat, I take the sword, and I'm in the driver's seat of the possession."

"Still not figuring how this helps anything."

"I would agree with the vampire," Mr. Weathers said.

"Yes, isn't that what we're distinctly trying to avoid?"

"What the princess is saying is that we have to stop the possession to avoid the - pardon the pun- Cordylus wreaking havoc on the world." Lorne shrugged. "The kitten has a better control of her senses, being younger, less Quickenings, she has the best chance of being defeated if anything goes wrong."

"You're saying that you'd be easier to kill."

"Makes sense."

The callous words of Mr. Weathers didn't seem to affect Cordelia at all as she nodded, eyes on her fingers as she opened and closed her fist, wincing slightly.

The words affected Angel.

The words washed over his soul, as he stood in the middle, between the Immortal and between the lawyers, calmly discussing the imminent death of one Immortal who didn't seem to want to live anyway.

The panic that associated that Immortal, with Cordelia, made him close his eyes against the scene, bite his lip to force himself not to say a word, when all he really wanted to do was take Cordelia, lock her up and force her to talk- to being to create sense of this inherent world of denial she was living in.

"This is of course, assuming I actually survive the Endgame, which we also have to stop, because, well. not really in the mood to fight a bunch of Immortals at once."

"FUCK."

The outburst came out edged with complete primal need, festered with anger, and it made everyone, Lorne and Cordelia, jump.

Angel burst forward, latching onto her hand and pulling her out of the room, never giving her even a moment to argue before slamming to door to the office closed.

Mr. Weathers narrowed his eyes, straightening the tie of his expensive ensemble.

"He's not going to kill her, is he? It's not in our best interest-"

"No, he's not going to kill her," Lorne said, moving back to the open book of spells. "But Cordylus needs some talking to, and the vampire. well- he knows what she needs."

--

He slammed her into the wall, hard and vicious.

She barely had a moment to register exactly what was happening, not even a moment to think when he pinned her there.

Her heart was beating wildly as the demon inside of Angel made his appearance, ridges dark and menacing on the handsome face, fangs glistening in the half light.

"Angel-"

But his upper body pressed against hers, pushed his heavy weight into her, until she was spread against the wall, leaving her no room, nothing but Angel against her, yellow eyes searching hers, senses overwhelmed with nothing but the vampire.

He was panting, something he didn't have to be doing, and it was interesting that she noted that, that Angel, who didn't breathe, was so thrown mentally that he resorted to an inherently human characteristic, the need to breathe to gain control.

But his grip was painful, and the myriad of emotions that splayed over him was singled out in the single word that came from his lips.

"CARE."

She closed her eyes against it, unsure why the word struck her, unsure why she was so affected by the vampire who seemed on the brink of losing everything and anything he had ever cared about on account of her.

"Angel-"

"CARE, Cordelia. CARE, dammit."

She wasn't a callous bitch, but there was the temptation to swallow down the pain, the confusion, and merely raise a cold eyebrow, and completely lie - tell him that she didn't care, and she would have done just that had he not uttered one more sentence.

"Nothing that has happened to us, nothing we've ever done, Xander, Buffy, Faith, they won't ever mean anything if you don't care."

The stone cold faced vanished, and her first impulse was the lash out at him, threaten him for bringing up their names at a time like this.

She took in a breath, but he continued to press his heavy weight against him, and instead of speaking she found herself drifted fascinated fingers over his face, moving over his face, tracing his lips, past them to his shoulders.

Her heart shuddered within her, and with it her body trembled.

Emotion.

It had been so long since she had been overcome with so much emotion.

"I do care," she finally admitted achingly, her eyes suddenly moist. "I care Angel. I know I'm not strong enough Angel." He continued to gaze at her with the demon yellow eyes, but she only saw Angel, never seeing the ridges, seeing only the vampire she had always known. "Angel, I can't win against this demon. Kat's not strong enough to fight it, you have to stop him. I don't even- It's you, Angel. You're the champion. You have to stop this thing- because I won't be able to. All I'll be able to do is kill Kat. and I don't even know. if I can do even that."

He didn't say a word, but continued to clutch her, as if he was unsure.

"Angel, help me trust you."

--

Los Angeles, CA 1999

The dreams had left a haunting affect on her, and she sighed, shivering, burrowing further into the airplane seat, looking to her side to find Xander asleep.

The private jet was relatively quiet.

But she couldn't stop shivering.

Goosebumps broke out on her body, as memories flooded through her.

Magdalene.

Thank you, Winters, she thought morbidly, closing her eyes. Thank you so much for having a psychotic lover you never told me about. Thank you SO MUCH making me kill you. THANK YOU SO MUCH.

She swallowed.

Nightmares of words so telling of her trauma. Claribel's face when she told her death and destruction was all that she would ever bring her friends.

She hadn't believed her then.

She had believed it would be the same, that nothing would change.

She could have Xander and could have her life back-

But there was this - targeting her friends, targeting even Angel, who up until now, had been out of their lives-

Her eyes flickered over to him, found him watching Buffy's sleeping form with the haunted look of love she had come to regard as familiar.

When his head lifted and his eyes connected with hers, she cocked an eyebrow.

The vampire swallowed, looking away.

Taking a breath, she made her decision.

Walking around Xander, she moved to the front of the private jet, taking a shot from the bar and knowing he was there as she put it behind her.

He took it.

"We'll be there in a half hour."

He didn't say a word as he took the drink, downing it in one gulp and then waiting as she poured him another.

Their eyes met again, and this time, she looked away.

"Do you blame me too?" he asked frankly.

"What are you talking about?"

"For leaving?"

She managed a grim smile as she looked at the murky liquid in the glass, manuvering her fingers around the form of it, letting the liquid swirl.

"Not everything is about you, Angel. I've got my own demon to deal with it."

He was quiet, but she could feel the black sweater as it skimmed her forearm. Her head turned, angling back to see what he was viewing so sacredly.

"Missed them?"

"Yeah."

"Me too."

"You came back to them."

"So did you."

"Because I had to," he said quickly.

"Me too," she answered, finally taking the liquid in, letting it burn satisfyingly down her throat. Again they looked at each other, again they looked away.

"So here's the million dollar question," she answered, her voice rough from the alcohol. "Who's weaker? Me for not being able to leave or you for running?"

"You don't know why I left."

"I have an idea."

"Who knows? You did the right thing."

"I had no choice."

She gave a sigh, leaning forward as he moved over her, plucking the shot glass from her hands and refilling it. "From the looks of it, neither do I."

A beat, both were quiet, the dark hazel met the dark brown and both stared, for one long minute, both understanding, in this crisis, that at that moment, they were one and the same.

Death and Destruction.

Cordelia looked away.

--

"Cordelia-"

His grip relaxed, but this time it was her who kept him against her, her hands now clutching his shoulders, keeping his body against her, almost as if she was relishing the contact.

Angel felt the warm, human body against his own, but it was her face that struck him, there was so much naked emotion-

Implicit trust.

In him.

"Angel, my whole life since I've become. what I am, I've had people telling me I'm Death Incarnate. And I believed them. No one in my life that I've loved has ever. not died on me. Everyone I come in contact with dies, Angel. Except you." Her hands smoothed over his face, her eyes shining brilliantly even as her voice trembled. "You, Angel have always existed, beautiful and tormented, and I see you and I see Death, and for some reason you still make me feel- like there's light. You make me crave . light, Angel. You are surrounded by darkness and when I'm with you, there's nothing but light, and it scares because-"

"You get hurt in the light." His words were gruff, torn from his closed throat.

She nodded, letting the tears slide. Hurriedly she wiped them off, closing her eyes for a second, composing herself before beginning again, a tad more evenly.

"I'm trusting you, Angel, to get me through this. Because you're the only one who can."

Her gaze was soft, almost desperate, but the ice cold in Cordelia's hazel orbs had melted, and he found himself whimpering as she slid her hands over his neck, and he leaned forward, moving his lips against hers desperately.

Her kiss was hungry, open and wet and without reservations. There was nothing held back as she held him, sealing his promise with one of her own.

When their lips broke apart, she gasped in, but he only gave her a second to recover before pulling her close, burying his face into her shoulder and breathing her in. Her form was trembling as she held him, pressing kisses to his cheek, to his neck, to his shoulder.

Love and trust was prevalent, and the desperate fear that hung over them tainted it only slightly.

The door opening made him look up, and Lorne looked startled. "Oh. uh. sorry- you need to see this."

He closed the door, leaving them in darkness again.

Angel closed his eyes, sighing against her hair, pressing his lips against her forehead, gently moving his hand in a caress down her back.

"Angel?"

"Yeah."

She managed a small smile as she patted his cheek. "Might want to lose the game face before we go in there."

He had completely forgotten about the ridges.

Taking a breath, he forced them away, but the look in her face never changed, and he gave her an unsure smile, before pulling away, keeping her hand firmly in his as they moved towards the door.

Cordelia gasped as she came into the room, moving away from Angel as she saw who was in the room.

"Terence?"

Terence Jacobs turned, papers and books inadvertently flying all over the place as he dumped his load on the chair.

"Ms. Winters!" She looked a little overwhelmed when he came forward, gave her a bear hug that invaded much personal space, and smiled happily.

"We're here to help!"

"We?"  Angel asked, crossing his arms as he came up from behind the Immortal who was also a little dumbstruck.

Various men and women were settling into the space of the lobby that was very quickly becoming crowded. The lawyers looked almost disgusted as dusty books were placed over their immaculate pads, and one even sneezed when the dust pooled.

"The Watchers Council has united to help stop the impending evil," Mr. Jacobs cheerfully informed them.

"The Watcher's Council?"

"I don't understand," Cordelia said, looking unsure as she looked around the room. "I thought the Council was supposed to be impartial throughout all of this."

"We are. We have no intention of stopping that particular concept. Provided things have run their course here. There's nothing about this Endgame that is natural." The female stepped into the room, arms behind her back, voice deep and devastatingly familiar. "So this is the Hyperion. I always wondered what my mother saw in it." Cordelia and Angel both froze, as the woman pushed the black hair behind her ear, and finally gazed at them both. A stare, and then a gentle smile floated over her face. "Hello, Aunt Chase. Uncle 'Gel."

"Katie?"

She broke out into a smile, and nodded eagerly.

In two steps she was in Cordelia's arms, holding her tightly, eyes moist as she pulled back.

Cordelia gently cupped her face, fingers trembling. "God I haven't seen you since-. You were." she indicated her height at her shoulder, and shook her head. "You. you're a WATCHER?"

"Wouldn't Mom be proud?" she said, grinning. "I. long story - but I missed you. Grandma missed you."

"I missed your grandmother. And your mother."

"Katie?"

"Uncle 'Gel!" Still holding onto Cordelia, Katie turned, gripping his outstretched hand. "I just. I'm so happy to see both of you!"

Terence looked absolutely dumbstruck.

"You know them both?"

Chase barely looked at him. "I'm Katie's Godmother."

Angel raised as sheepish hand as Katie gently patted his cheek. "Godfather, right here."  He was also grinning. "God you look so much like your mother."

"No, my mother never looked this old." She smiled, shrugging, and then she stood back, as Angel gently pressed a hand into Cordelia's shoulder. "They both would have loved to see you. one of Grandma Faith's regrets was never being able to help you reconcile your differences."

"Oh, honey they're more than reconciled," Lorne butted in, shutting up when Angel elbowed him sharply.

"That was Faith," Cordelia said, blowing her breath out. "Never able to keep her mouth shut about . well. us."

"Ahem." Mr. Weathers looked more than annoyed. "As touching as this is- we are on the clock."

Cordelia huffed, when Katie raised her eyebrow. "Evil lawyers, meet the Watchers Council." To Kate, she said, "They. are TRYING to help. Mostly just being annoying."

Katie smiled, but she nodded to Terence, who was shaken out of his dumbstruck gaze like a windup toy.

"Every resource is at your disposal. We have already figured out, we can stop the demon, and reverse the EndGame, but we need the exact spell. We are looking for it as we speak, it's located in some scroll. the scroll of." he peered into the book, and looked up. "Anatole."

Mr. Weathers shuffled when Cordelia looked at him pointedly.

"The heads discussed and we believe-"

"Hand it over, moron."

He sighed, and nodded, reaching into his briefcase and placing it in Terence's hands.

"If we do not get this back," he said, voice clipped and dangerous. "We will use every means in our employ to make life very difficult for you."

"Yeah, Wolfy and Hart," Angel said, coming up behind and slapping him hard on the back, making him lurch forward as the vampire slung a heavy hand over his shoulder. "Gotta love 'em."

Mr. Weathers stared at him as if he was insane.

"Okay guys, it's crunch time," Cordelia said, moving over to watch as Terence pulled open the scroll, Katie settled down on the other side of him with her own set of books.

"We're going for broke. Like the Market Crash of 2100. Winters Incorporated almost hit rock bottom then. But we managed."

"Yes," Mr. Weathers smiled fondly at the memory. "I remember it as a young lawyer. We had an interest in that."

"Yeah, I know," she responded, grimacing. "You tried to do a hostile takeover. Literally," she added under her breath.

Angel shoved Mr. Weathers into a chair and moved around, nodding to Lorne and some of the lawyers. "Weapons. Let's get them."

Cordelia walked by, scruffing his hair before settling in next to Katie.

Mr. Weathers sighed, trying to fix the bangs and adjust the suit.

"What you get when you try to bond with the people you hate," he muttered.