TITLE: Crosses to Bear (Part 3/?)
AUTHOR: Rebecca Parker
EMAIL:
LaVelleBelle@aol.com
RATING: R
SUMMARY: In order to get Faith out
of jail, Buffy agrees to be with Lindsey for a year, and Angel is about to find
out who his favorite slayer is sleeping with...
SPOILERS: Up to "Are
You Now or Have You Ever Been" except Darla never returned.
FEEDBACK:
Yes please!
DISTRIBUTION: This and the first two parts are at my site
(http://www.ourowndestiny.com) and FINNatics. All others, please ask
first.
DISCLAIMER: I own nothing. Joss and Mutant Enemy own all.
DEDICATION: To anyone who waited very patiently for me to post the next
part. I'm really sorry it took so long and I promise to write more soon.
Cordelia paced the length of the office, nervously watching the
door and awaiting their arrival. She should have gone with Angel to pick up
Faith, but at the last minute they had gotten a phone call from a new client,
and Cordelia had been left behind.
She still felt those familiar
pangs of unease in her stomach over the whole situation, but she also knew that
sometimes there was just no point arguing with Angel over certain
subjects.
Like Faith.
Buffy had learned that lesson
last time she had come to Los Angeles. She still remembered the sulking and
brooding that had been the fallout from that one. It wasn't pretty.
She walked over to the coffee machine, making sure the pot was full and
hot. She had a feeling it was going to be a long night, and knew that they would
all need a little pick-me-up. Especially Wesley. He had no idea what was going
on and Cordelia was sure he would be none too pleased when he found out.
As if on cue, Wesley walked into the office, a smile on his face. "I
must say, Cordelia," he said, walking next to her and picking up a cup. "It
smells quite like a Parisian cafe in here."
"Yep. I have everything but
the croissants and guys in funny hats," she said, picking up the pot and pouring
him some coffee.
"They're called berets," Wesley said, taking the
cup from him.
"Hello, I know that," Cordelia said, smiling as she
leaned back against the counter, "they're also called so passe. They're totally
80's."
"Ah, my faux pas, I do apologize," Wesley said, grinning as
he took another sip and cringed. "Sugar please?" he asked her, trying not to
laugh as he noticed the pained expression as she passed it to him. "Is Angel
awake?"
Cordelia moved past him, fidgeting nervously. How did she
always get stuck in these odd situations? If Angel wanted to befriend the girl
who nearly sliced and diced Wesley within an inch of his life, he should be the
one to tell him!
"Yep. He's actually out and about already," she
answered finally, fixing a pile of magazines that had accumulated on her
desk.
"Ah. New case?" Wesley asked, straightening his glasses as
he walked towards her.
"Old one actually," Cordelia said, biting
her lip, "You know the deal- some lost soul he's not willing to give up
on."
"Ah," Wesley answered, folding his arms. "Angel can be quite
stubborn. Let me take a guess at who this lost soul is. Lindsey McDonald,
perhaps?"
"I wish," Cordelia said, laughing nervously.
"Have a thing for him, do we?" Wesley asked, grinning at her.
"Well, I don't," Cordelia answered, pulling her hair back into a
ponytail. "I just wish it was that simple."
"As simple as saving
the soul of a LAWYER?" Wesley asked, chuckling. "My God, who is this impossible
case?"
"Faith, actually," Cordelia answered. "She got out of
prison tonight."
Wesley stared at Cordelia for a moment as if she
was mid-joke and he was sure the punchline was still coming. After a minute, it
became apparent that she was serious, as well as uncomfortable, and Wesley's
shoulders slumped.
"How?" he asked, finally. So many other words
wanted to be said, but he thought the question the only diplomatic thing he
could offer.
"Off on a technicality, supposedly," she said,
shrugging. "But the aforementioned Lindsey McDonald called to deliver the news
and I'm thinking - take a big whiff of the big ole scam."
"But
Angel doesn't believe that," he said, moving away from her to stare at the doors
of the hotel, trying to imagine the look on the slayer's face when confronted
with the man she nearly killed.
"Of course not. He's got faith in
Faith," she said, the inflections of sarcasm apparent in her voice. "One of
these days, he's gonna get a big ole case of the 'I told you so's.'"
"I fear so," Wesley said, taking another sip of his coffee. "She won't
hurt you again," he said, his eyes transfixed on the bottom of his cup.
"Of course not," Cordelia said, her voice tender. "You don't even have
to worry about me. She even tries any of her slayer moves on me, I'll just cut
all her hair off or something."
"This is serious Cordelia," Wesley
said, looking up at her. "Angel puts his trust in some dangerous places and he's
not the only one liable to get hurt."
Cordelia reached out her
hand, taking his firmly. "We'll be fine," she said as reassuringly as possible.
"We've taken care of each other before and we'll do it again."
Wesley smiled awkwardly at her, tightening his grip on her hand. "Thank
you Cordelia." He let go suddenly, his hands at his side. "When will they be
arriving?"
Cordelia glanced at her watch quickly. It was 7:00.
"Barring an attempted murder on the way home, they should be arriving in about a
half hour."
"30 minutes left of normality," Wesley mused to
himself. "Let's get to work on the Sullivan case then, shall we?"
********
Faith stared out the window as Angel's convertible sped
down the streets of Los Angeles. With the top down, she could feel the wind
blowing through her hair, occasionally sweeping tendrils of it in her
face.
She missed this. Being free.
They had sat in a
comfortable silence for most of the ride, but now the quiet seemed awkward. She
started to fidget nervously with the door locks- any signs of entrapment making
her stomach turn over slightly. Eager to find a safe topic of discussion, Faith
asked about their new offices.
"It's great, actually," he said,
turning his car left with one hand, the other leaning against the edge of the
door. "It used to be this grand hotel- the Hyperion. I stayed there for a long
time," he said, moving both hands to grip the wheel, and after another minute of
silence, Faith wasn't sure if he was going to continue- Angel didn't always have
quite a way with words- or a use for them.
"So there's all
bellboys and maids?" she asked, leaning back in the seat.
"No,"
Angel said, stopping at a light. He turned to her, smiling awkwardly. "It's been
a long time since I stayed there as a guest. The place is pretty in-operational
now. There are a few rooms that have been well kept, but that's about it. No
room service."
"Shit," Faith said, smiling. "That woulda been
nice."
Angel smiled, pulling up in front of the Hyperion and cutting off
the engine. He stared at it in all its dilapidated glory and he sighed. Inside,
no doubt, were Cordelia and Wesley- two people who wouldn't exactly be hanging
up the "Welcome Back" banners for Faith. He looked over to her, watching as she
picked nervously at her nails, sure that she was thinking the same thing he
was.
"You don't have to see them tonight," he offered.
"Hey, it's all part and parcel, right? Gotta see 'em sometime," she
said, turning to look out the side of the car. She closed her eyes and
remembered the cries that had escaped from Wesley as she cut in to him and,
through it all, her laughter. She had laughed as she carved her initial into his
chest, had laughed when she kept the match to his chest, had laughed when the
smell of burning flesh filled the room.
She had been a monster
then- a crazed girl at the end of her rope and Wesley had paid the price for her
desperation.
"He'll forgive you," Angel said, as if reading her
thoughts.
She turned back to him, shaking her head. "I don't think
so Angel."
"You don't know Wesley," he countered.
"Yeah, well I can't figure what type of guy forgives someone for
torturin' them."
"Giles did," Angel answered, his voice so low
that Faith could hardly hear him.
Her mouth closed suddenly as she
realized yet another thing they had in common, and it never ceased to amaze her
how, sometimes, the two of them were so alike. "I'm sorry Angel," she said,
looking down at her hands.
"Don't tell me," he said, looking at
her and the tired look on her face. "Listen, I'll sneak you in the back door.
You can deal with everything tomorrow. Tonight- just sleep."
"You sure?
That ain't gonna piss em off?"
"They'll understand," he said,
opening the door, and hoping that was actually true.
****
"Yes sir," Lindsey said, clicking his cell phone closed and placing it
in his pocket. Tomorrow was the big day, and new details were constantly being
added to the plan. He happened to like this last one.
He needed to
speak to Buffy about the news, but he could tell now wasn't the time. He watched
as Buffy attacked the punching bag she had demanded they install in his
apartment. He watched as her body moved nimbly in attack and hoped the day would
never come when she would use those moves on him.
Of course, the
way things were going, he wasn't so sure.
"You going out?" he
asked, sitting down on the couch, watching her still.
"Yeah. I can
probably get in some good slayage time before my curfew," she said, accentuating
the last word with every drop of sarcasm in her. Wolfram & Hart had decided
that, for appearances' sake, Buffy would be allowed to still slay, but she
needed to be back in Lindsey's "custody" before 1 AM each morning. She felt like
she was 16 and back sneaking in through the window of her bedroom.
"OK," Lindsey said, taking the glass of whiskey from the end table and
sipping it softly as he watched her towel off her sweat and grab for her jacket.
"You're going now?"
"I was planning on it," she said, fixing the
collar of her jacket. "If that's alright with you? Do I need a permission slip
signed or something?"
"You're in a bad mood," he commented,
putting down his drink.
"Oh now Lindsey, why ever do you think
that? I'm young, beautiful, strong and oh yeah- what's the word I'm looking for-
trapped? Oh no, that's not it- prisoner. I think that was the word I was looking
for."
"You made that decision," Lindsey said, getting up and
moving towards her. "You can't be a prisoner if you put yourself behind the bars
willingly. You know what you are? You're a volunteer. You want your freedom? I
can give it to you," he said. He didn't want to be like this with her, but he
could feel the alcohol going to his head. "I'll give you your freedom- I just
have to take it away from the girl we gave it to."
"You're a
bastard, Lindsey," Buffy said, moving past him angrily. "I'll be back by 1," she
said as she slammed the door shut.
"Damnit," Lindsey said, taking
a punch at the bag himself.
To Be Continued....
