TITLE

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....