By Misty Flores – mistyjox@hotmail.com
Teaser: Lorne has his hands full when three men who love three brunettes reveal three stories that meld surprisingly – and the three brunettes go missing.
Genre: Angel: The Series, Comedy/Romance/Action
Pairing: Angel/Cordelia, Gunn/Fred, Wesley/Faith
Rating: R for sexual situations
Notes: Okay, I feel I had to make this clear. I wrote the majority of this story (i.e. the first twelve chapters) BEFORE Birthday and Provider aired. I can prove it. With um… friends? I just felt like I had to point that out.
Distribution: http://www.wolverineandrogue.com/mistiec
Spoilers: Speculation for Birthday. The one major difference? Cordelia was NOT changed to a half demon. This does NOT mean that she won't in this story line, just hasn't been changed YET. The only reason for this difference, is quite simply, I had NO idea they were going to do that, and my story was left, poor thing, with no half demon Cordy.
Special Thanks to: Vanessa, and her beautiful beta reading abilities.
One more note: This registered at about 240 pages in it's completed form. Therefore I'll be posting chapters slowly, so as not to overwhelm. Thanks again.
--
CHAPTER TWO
--
Monday Afternoon – Charles Gunn's Truck
"Where are we going?" Fred's voice lilted with a soft giggle, and Charles shot her a smile before motioning with a jerk of his head.
"It's just up this road here."
Fred narrowed her eyes, turning her gaze outside the window, watching as they passed a neighborhood that didn't look quite as nice as the one the Hyperion was situated in. She frowned, pushing the glasses further up her nose as she cocked her head, craning her neck to study the cement block wall with the graffiti scrawled over it.
It was a different neighborhood, with children playing in the street and men sitting on the corner with paper bags in their hands.
"Charles?" she asked hesitantly.
"Yeah, Fred?"
"Where are we?" She turned to study his reaction to the question, but he only gave a carefully guarded shrug, waving a disinterested hand out of the window.
"This is my old hood, Fred."
"Oh."
"There's this place – dude at the corner named Felipe, makes the best damned tacos in the world." She couldn't help but smile at his excited voice, the way his fingers drummed on the steering wheel and the way his body seemed to move with some beat that only he could hear. She liked Gunn… liked the way he made the most out of the little things, like they were the most important things in the world. "You ain't lived unless you've tasted these tacos, Fred."
Fred just smiled and turned her gaze out of the window, grateful for Gunn's smile as her mind wandered back to the obvious hostility in the hotel. Wesley's betrayed face and Cordelia's horrified expression – and the new girl – Faith. With the deep dark eyes and the defensive posture…
In a way it reminded her of a dog she had met while she had volunteered at the shelter in Texas. Murphy, kicked and abused and brought in snarling and snapping at everyone, but Gerald, the trainer, had said that he was just tired and scared and full of hate cause that was all he knew. He didn't know how to love and just expected the worse in everyone.
Fred shuddered, crossing her arms. What a way to live.
"Whatcha thinkin' about?"
"Faith being a dog," she responded automatically.
Gunn did a double take, gaze lingering on her face, but only an amused smile curled on his lips and he chuckled. "Right. Here we are."
The truck pulled into the curb, ten feet away was what appeared to be a white shack, the smell of sizzling meat filling the air. Crowded around the stand were families, mostly Latino, rattling along in Spanish, hunched over warped wooden tables.
She frowned, slightly confused. "The best tacos in the world are here?"
"You bet your life." Opening the door, he hopped out, and shrugging, Fred followed, opening the door to find him already there, arms out to help her down.
Thanking him with a smile, she gazed at the crowded little stand nervously, unconsciously keeping her hand in his as he moved to the stand, eyes brightening at sight of the men working feverishly away, pounding at the meat while latin ranchero music played in the background from a boombox hung on a hook.
Moving to the front of the line, Gunn grinned, arms spread out. "FELIPE!"
The sweaty old man with the graying mustache looked up, and suddenly a grin flipped on his face. "CHARLIE! Como estas, muchacho!"
"Awwiiight," Gunn said, on his face a genuine grin as he clapped hands with the 'chef' in a warm embrace.
Fred felt a smile alight on her face. She had rarely seen Gunn this amiable and open. It was fun.
"Y esta bonita quien es?"
Gunn looked startled, and then smiled back, wrapping an arm around Fred and bringing the nervous girl forward. "This here's Fred. Fred meet Felipe. Coolest dog out west."
"Encantada, seniorita," Felipe said, shaking the hand and grinning with such joy in his eyes Fred couldn't help but smile back.
"Hello."
"You come for the tacos, eh?" The voice was heavily accented, but it didn't detract from his charm. Fred nodded, a shy smile overtaking her features.
"Yo dog, I told her you made the best tacos ever, so you better not embarrass me."
"Cha! Go away, Freddie, come here," he motioned wildly, and Fred cast Gunn a hesitant look. When he grinned and nodded, she went forward, behind the stand, watching obediently as he began to explain in broken English why his tacos were so wonderfully made.
She frowned, honestly not seeing what was so special about two small corn tortillas and a big butcher knife hacking the things to pieces.
Charles Gunn couldn't help but smile at Fred's nervous posture easily giving way to a more relaxed stance, the smile genuine over her elfin face.
Turning away with a contended sigh, he began to pile a paper plate with necessary condiments, sliced limes and salt packets.
The hand clamping down on his back made him pause, and turning his body, he found himself face to face with Rondell, and about four other of his former boys.
Gunn's smile immediately froze, eyes jerking back to where Fred was still listening to Felipe, and turned back. "Hey."
Rondell wasn't smiling either. The young man's posture was tense, and Gunn gripped his plate closer to him, eying the truck.
"What are you doing here, dog?" Rondell asked, never one for tact
or pret
ension.
Gunn straightened to his full height, looking down on the brother who had leveled the machine gun at him only months before. "What a brother can't come down to get himself some tacos?"
"Not this brother," Rondell said tersely, cocking his head as he studied Gunn. "You ain't in this hood no more, dog."
Charles wanted to refute the claim, but as he opened his mouth to argue, his eyes caught the stony expressions on the faces of his other companions, and he had to swallow down the words. "Look, I'm leaving, I just wanted to show my friend -"
"Who? Crazy little white girl?"
The words brought a flash to Gunn's face, and the lips pulled down, eyes cold as he clenched his fists. "Hey. Don't you even start to go there."
Rondell's eyes weighed him down, brown orbs flickering over Charles', before finally glancing over to Fred. "Yeah. You would beat your homeboy down over some girl you barely know, wouldn't you?"
"Gunn?" Fred's form was hesitant, her voice soft and unsure as her brown eyes widened in recognition, hands clutching the foil wrapped tacos as her gaze shifted between him and his old gangmates.
"Fred, get in the truck."
The little physicist wouldn't listen, instead coming up beside him, forearm brushing his sweatshirt covered sleeve, leaning into him, as if giving support, or asking for it.
Without taking his eyes off of Rondell, Gunn's fingers crept over her palm and squeezed reassuringly.
"Come on, man. Don't start nothin' in front of ole' Felipe," he began tightly. "I don't got no beef witch you."
Rondell's lips twitched, and he shrugged. "You right. We ain't got nothing but love for Felipe." As if in affirmation, he pounded at his chest and nodded his head to the chef, who was watching them all suspiciously. "Yo, Felipe! How about some carne asada for me and the boys, huh?"
"Don't start no trouble, cabrons," He grumbled, but went to work. Rondell smiled.
"Wouldn't dream of it." He looked back to Gunn, and he crossed his arms. "You guys go get the tacos." The boys behind him obeyed, and when left alone, he cocked his head. "You still believe in your mission, bro?"
"You still have to ask?"
"Just wonderin'. Cause if I remember correctly you said you were only with the vampire cause of the mission."
"Yeah, I remember what I said, Rondell," Gunn snapped, his tone making Fred stiffen slightly, watching with baited breath.
Charles' chest was constricted, but he managed to show not a trace of the fear, hand still holding on to Fred in a conscious effort to keep her somewhat behind him.
"Hey, chill man. We cool. Sorta. We got's ourself a mission too, is all. Met our own little white boy do-gooder. Vampkiller with a soul." Rondell grinned, showing perfectly white teeth. The expression softened somewhat and he moved back. "Come on by around ten. Take a look. Maybe your little mission don't have to involve no vampire."
Even with Rondell out of Gunn's face, it did nothing to lessen the tension and obvious confliction on Gunn's face. Fred found herself hesitant to speak, Charles' grip on her hand tight to the point of pain.
"Charles?" He didn't hear her, lost in his own world of anger and memories and possibly regret. "Did you mean that? About Angel not being a friend?" Again there was no answer. "Charles?"
Finally the breaking at the edge of the word seemed to shake him out of his daze, because he turned and seemed to finally see her, and shook himself, taking her hand and pulling her in the direction of the truck.
"Let's go."
--
Present Day – Kate's apartment
Kate was silent, lost in contemplation as Fred paused, sipping some of the coffee.
Immediately the former grad student blanched, putting it back. "Cold," she explained to Cordelia and Faith.
"What was the street, you remember?" Kate prodded.
Fred shook her head slowly no. "Somewhere downtown, I think."
Kate pursed her lips again, biting down, forcing herself not to ask the questions she wanted to, about the names and streets and districts, her mind clicking away at the different groups running downtown.
She wasn't a cop anymore. It wasn't her business.
Rubbing a tired palm into her eye, she finally muttered with a husky sigh, "Okay. So…"
"So… that was intense," Fred said, nodding, mouth pulling into a frown.
Cordelia didn't say a word, but closed her eyes burrowing in deeper into Faith's shoulder. "Sorry, Fred. We should have been paying attention."
"Well ya'll had your own problems," she answered, picking at a bloody stain on her dress.
"Exactly what were they?" Kate asked, sitting up. "'Cause all I'm seeing now is a serious questioning of sexual preference."
Cordelia and Faith froze, before glancing at each other and scooting away. "Oh, please," Cordelia answered. "We just came to an understanding."
Faith smirked, rolling her eyes. "Yeah. Don't fuck with Cordelia."
--
Monday Afternoon – The Hyperion Hotel
Faith was halfway out of the door when a strong, cool hand tugged her back, nearly sending her sprawling back into the lobby.
"Don't leave."
Regaining her balance easily, she jerked her hand away from Angel's cool grasp, wiping at the damned moisture in her eyes before spitting, "Hey! Not like your cronies really want me around -"
"They'll deal."
"Deal." With a chortle and a huff, Faith looked back up toward the stairs, crossing her arms as her breath came out in constricted breaths. "That's great for a pleasant living environment."
"Give them time, Faith."
"Fuck, Angel, you know why they won't accept me - hell I don't even know why I - I just… look. They got a point, alright?" She shrugged, biting on her lower lip in an effort to contain herself long enough to get her voice even again. "The last time I saw Cordelia she wound up with my fist in her face and I don't even want to BEGIN with Wes -"
"Faith the pity party isn't going to help." The foreign voice interjected into the conversation made the Slayer pause, turning her head to view the lone figure at the top of the stairs. Cordelia's face was passive, low and firm despite that. "Don't run off, because it's daylight out and Angel can't follow in the daylight. Just come upstairs. I need to talk to you."
For some reason, that seemed about as fun as having that third tattoo done on her – well… it wasn't a party, that was …
Faith turned back to Angel, but he was looking at Cordelia, and the stars in his eyes were enough for Faith to look again, trying to see just what Vampire Broody saw.
But there was still only the May Queen Cordy, with the stone cold gaze, holding the kid and gazing at her evenly. "I don't have all day, Faith."
The patronizing tone wasn't lost on Faith. The swell of irritation that moved through her was enough to make her fists clench, and alarmed, she looked down, pushing them into her pockets. "Doesn't really get I'm the Slayer, does she?"
"Oh, she gets it." Angel's tone was light, almost amused, and again Faith did a double check. What the hell was wrong with him, anyway? His cool grasp tightened on her elbow, and she heard whispered in her ear, "Faith. Cordelia knew me when I was a killer. She was a first hand witness to everything I did to Buffy, to Giles – I attacked her more than once. But she's standing at the top of the stairs, holding my son – and she calls me her best friend. She's not perfect – but she understands."
There was nothing else he needed to say. Faith took in a hesitant breath, and nodded, indicating she understood.
Queen C was the one to talk to then.
Once she began to walk up the stairs, Cordelia turned, walking into one of the rooms, and when Faith followed, she found the Seer standing next to a crib, the child now quiet in her arms.
Unsure of the silence, Faith crossed her arms for lack of anything better to do, and began to fidget, casting eyes over the room. Cordelia turned, hazel eyes impossible to read in the darkened shadows of Angel's room.
Faith's sense of perception had been a little delayed, what with the screaming and accusing and you know… the guilt, but they kicked in now. The rumpled sheets, Queen C's bed hair, the crib -
What the hell had happened since she got put in the cell?
"So… Angel's got a kid huh? That's just wild."
Funny. Back in high school Faith didn't think much of the Queen C, and knew for a fact that Cordy didn't think much of her. But different time, different place-
And people changed. Faith could accept that. She had to.
Cordelia just gave her an even stare, and finally just nodded, a small smile playing on her lips. "Before we commence with stupid pointless 'I don't know what to say because I can't stand silence' small talk I think we should come to an understanding."
Faith's eyes averted slightly, jolted up from viewing Connor as Cordelia came closer. "Okay."
"I'll tell you where I come from and you can tell me where you come from."
"Fine," Faith agreed evenly.
"Good." Cordelia nodded, her voice low and firm and damn Faith wished she would just scream already. This new calm, collected Cordy was frazzling her nerves. "All right. Now, I think it's understood that no one has exactly forgotten about the little ditty that happened in Sunnydale, but I figure if Angel can forgive you for trying to kill him then who am I to judge? This is Angel's hotel, and I respect it. And that's all I care about. Respect. Respect me and I'll respect you."
Respect. Wasn't that what it was all about in the pen? Who had the respect. Who had the power.
"I can deal with that." Her eyes once again flickered to Connor. Her mouth flickered into an unconscious smile. "He's got Angel's brow."
"Yeah. A serious cro-mag thing going," Cordelia said, affection dancing in her eyes as she rocked the baby.
Faith swallowed, eyes roving back to the hallway. "So Queen C… about Angel…"
"Faith, if I were you I'd get your eyes off Angel and concentrate instead on making this a more pleasant working environment for you, starting mainly with Wesley."
Faith's heart lurched at the mention of her ex-Watcher's name, she gulped down the emotion, only to have it settle heavily in her stomach.
"He's in his office. That's a hint," Cordelia added, just to make sure she got the point.
Faith got the feeling she was dismissed, and unused to being ordering around by one of Sunnydale's nearest and dearest, she shoved fists into the pocket of her coat and couldn't resist, "Get yourself a shower, C. You look like shit."
Cordelia rolled her eyes, opening her mouth to retort when she paused, and instead came out with, "Faith, grab Connor."
The Slayer paused in the doorway, uncertain. "Huh? You want me to-"
"GRAB HIM! NO - OH MY GOD!?" And Cordelia fell into spasms.
Faith ran as quickly as she could, pulling the baby out of Cordelia's embrace seconds before Cordelia slammed into the floor, writhing in pain.
"What the fuck?" she whispered breathlessly.
The myriad of emotions forced an almost nausea inducing response in the pit of Faith's stomach. The child was held in her hands by pure unconscious thought, as the Slayer looked down upon Cordelia.
Tears were streaming from her face and her hands gripped the side of her head as if it were splitting.
"Cordelia?!" She knelt down, trying to alleviate the screams, but the Seer only pushed her off, sobbing and crying and SHIT this was more than she could handle -
The pain… there had to be a way to make the -
"ANGEL!"
Seconds after the words left Faith's parched mouth the vampire burst into the room, very nearly taking the door with him.
"Cordy!"
Cordelia was unseeing, eyes shut closed as she curled into a ball, hands gripping her temples almost painfully.
The sight of pure and utter agony made Faith's heart jolt, and her throat suddenly parched without warning, something she realized when she attempted to speak to the vampire.
"I.. What's -"
"Vision." Wesley was the one that answered her, as he moved from behind her to kneel down beside Cordelia.
Angel's face was constricted, one of painful worry and intense sorrow as he wrapped his arms around the flailing seer, curling her into his broad chest.
Once again, Faith could do nothing but hold the damned baby.
Feverish pains were moving over Cordelia's body, her teeth were chattering. When her eyes finally opened, the dark, glazed orbs were blurred with tears.
"Cordelia."
She flinched, as if suddenly pulled into the present.
Angel's thumbs stroked her cheeks, brushing away the tears, holding her closer as her eyes closed and she began to shudder visibly.
Faith was utterly still, holding the child in an awkward position as her eyes locked into the scene that she felt she was almost invading. The cheerleader, little Queen C who ruled Sunnydale High with her thumb, crumpled against Angel's chest, and began to sob; huge wracking wails that twisted something in Faith's heart and seared her to her very soul.
"Cordelia, what is it, what did you see?" Faith almost glared at Wesley's intrusiveness, but Cordelia immediately sucked in her breath, letting it out in a ragged gasp.
Her voice was strained, hoarse with tears. "I… Santa Monica – the Promenade. Demon… attacking - oh God…" She gave a whimper and her eyes closed again, as she shook her head, eyes clenched closed, trying to give an accurate description. "There's a kid. She's lost… he's gonna eat the kid -"
"Angel." Wesley was on his feet.
"I'm not going anywhere."
Faith's head whipped to Angel's form, but he gave neither of them a glance as he gently pulled Cordelia to his chest, standing and moving to the bed. "Angel…"
"Look at her, Wes!"
Cordelia was again lost to the world, tears streaming from her eyes, as she tried to ball herself up, almost an unseen attempt to push everything out of her head.
Unsure of what exactly she was supposed to do, Faith took a step back, keeping Conner clutched to her, trying to dimly remember the whole 'like a football' routine in an effort to stay out of the intense situation.
Wesley's form was tall and he looked conflicted but she could tell that he was running the situation through in his damned large head. "Angel, the vision was given to her for a reason -"
"Yeah, and it's killing her," Angel damn near growled, kneeling beside the bed, rubbing Cordelia's palms between his hands and holding them desperately to his mouth.
Killing her? Faith blinked, trying to comprehend what Angel meant by that as she licked her lips.
"Why the hell are we going to listen when they -"
"I'll go."
The words came so surprisingly that even Faith had to look around to make sure she was the one that said it.
Shock flitted over her senses and she shuffled her feet, fully intending to take it back before Angel looked at her with something that resembled hope.
And there were tears in his eyes.
"I'll go," she said again, louder, tone uneven, almost as if she was trying to convince herself of her own sincerity. "I can do that. Kill the kid, save the monster - wait." She blinked, swallowed at the nervous bumbling and, began again slower this time, "Kill the monster, save the kid. Got it."
Wesley's jaw clenched, but Angel, his hands still gripping a near comatose Cordelia's fingers, just stared at her.
She gave him a shrug, but the look on her face seemed sincere. "Hey," she mumbled with a nervous chuckle. "Gotta start somewhere, right?"
It was the smile that did it. Angel's mouth pulled down at the sides, and his eyes met with Wes's, and suddenly he had dismissed them all, turning back to the Queen C. "Go. Wesley, go with her."
"Angel -"
"Just GO."
Wesley's jaw clamped shut, but he was done arguing. Faith turned to the doorway, and then paused, turning back.
"Wait. What do I do with the kid?" she asked.
"Fred." The weak voice belonged to Cordelia. "Just… she's better with him than anyone -"
"She's not here." Wesley came forward, and avoiding Faith's own intense, unsure stare, he carefully moved the child away from her, gentleness in his hands that seemed foreign to her as his fingers absently stroked over hers. Pressing his lips to the crown of Connor's head in a distracted kiss, he placed the child in the crib, and then turned his now familiar stony gaze on the Slayer.
The tension in his body mimicked a language she understood, had come to speak fluently in the pen.
The bastard didn't trust her. Big fucking surprise.
Turning her eyes away from the delicate scene on the bed, Faith instead offered Wesley a sneer. "Thought you were the big boss, Wes."
"Piss off," came his mumbled, angry reply, and there was just enough bite behind that to make her smile as jogged down the stairs.
--
Present Day – the Hyperion
Lorne took in a breath, left butt cheek constricting slightly as the room grew quiet.
Cordelia's visions. Poor little chickadee. They were getting worse every time.
Lorne closed his eyes and silently beseeched whomever was listening to fix what was happening to the ailing Seer. He knew the kid, and he knew the Vampire – and he knew that sometimes the only thing keeping the big guy fighting was the pair of hazel eyes that could melt a heart and flood a soul with hope.
Angel's own face was taught, eyes glazed and moist as his hands fidgeted again, and suddenly the vampire yelped when the contraption in his arms began to have a life of it's own.
Clattering to the counter when Angel jumped away, the thing began to buzz and thump against the counter.
Charles leaned over, calmly switching the thing off, moving past a startled Wesley before grabbing a napkin and wiping at his fingers.
Wesley looked curious, picking it up.
"Yo. You wanna tell me what the hell you're doing with a vibrator in the first place?"
"Is that what that is?!" Angel asked, and Wesley immediately let out a soft gasp, dropping it back onto the counter, where the button was pushed and the thing started up all over again.
"A vibrator?!"
"It's not mine," Angel said hastily. "Cordelia -"
"That's CORDELIA'S?!"
"NO -" Angel looked flustered, but no one was ready to touch the thing, and so it continued to move.
"That's not Cordelia that's - that's FAITH'S?!" Wesley said, jerking his head back to said contraption. "What the hell are you doing with Faith's vibrator?"
Gunn gave them both a confused smile. "So Cordy somehow 'magically' got her hands on FAITH's vibrator? Well, well…" Gunn looked verily amused as he leaned back with a self-satisfied smile. "Looks like you dog's ain't exactly takin' care of business, now are ya?"
"Gunn -"
"Oh, for Pete's sake!" Grabbing a towel, Lorne grabbed the contraption and switched it off, tossing it into the nearby sink. "The vibrator doesn't matter. What happened after the vision?"
Angel, Gunn and Wesley all exchanged looks, as Gunn clasped his hands together and let out his breath.
"Fred and I came home."
--
Monday Afternoon – Charles Gunn's Truck
"You're going to go tonight, aren't you."
It wasn't a question, and Gunn therefore, didn't answer as he swallowed down a retort and kept his eyes on the road.
Thanks to the wonders of peripheral vision, he could see the slender girl as she shifted in her seat, the peaceful expression that had been on her face now changed to one of unease, fingers tangling with each other in her lap in nervous agitation.
He winced. He hated that expression on her. Late one night he had dreamed of that smile, and in the nightmare that had followed he had seen her scream.
Gulping down the emotion, he tightened his hands around the steering wheel, letting out a deep sigh. "I'm sorry, Fred. I shouldn't have -"
"It's alright, Charles," she interrupted quietly, her eyes searching for something he couldn't seem to see outside the window. "The tacos were good, anyway."
The little statement made the tension a little easier to bear, and he let a low, smooth chuckle out of his voice. "Told you they was good."
"Mmm."
They descended into silence, pulling to a stop in front of a red light. The truck, old, but still Charles' pride and joy, built by his hands and sometimes cleaned by his late sister, creaked and rattled a little bit, engine tickering away, the only sound inside the cab.
"Charles."
The voice was lilting, soft emotion making him turn his head to lock gazes with the beautiful woman.
Her eyes were clouded behind the glasses, making the color in the fading light almost impossible to tell.
"Don't go."
Her words were a soft plead, a small voice that seared into his heart, and it brought a lump to his throat, hard and painful.
And in that moment, there was nothing but Fred's eyes, staring at him so openly.
The honk that blared behind him broke the stare, and coughing to cover the stinging in his eyes, he jerked the clutch and turned his attention back to the street, where it belonged.
--
Monday – The Hyperion Hotel
The pain had receded only somewhat, and the aching stabs that still were prevalent in her brain, splintering over her entire body, gave her no reason to move.
Her eyes were closed, her breathing shallow, but she felt the fingers that were clenched in hers, so tightly that her circulation was at times blocked.
In an effort to ease the tingles in her fingertips, she shifted her hand away, moving her body closer and found, to her relief, that the grip loosened as the vampire gently picked her torso up, lifting and sliding under so suddenly she had his lap as her chair, her head leaning against a very masculine chest, and his cheek rubbing against her temple as his lips brushed her ear.
Again, the intimacy of the situation pierced her already foggy mind enough to allow her to flutter her eyes open, but in her pain, she ignored the prickles of warning. Instead she pressed her lips against the hands that were wrapped around her shoulders and latched on to a very different, very damning thought.
"Angel."
"Hmm?"
She licked her lips, trying to get some feeling back into her mouth as she swallowed around the words. "I was holding Connor when the vision came."
He was quiet, and she wished for a second that he was human, so she could hear a gasp or a change of breathing or anything that would hint to what she knew that meant.
But she felt nothing but his strong, reassuring embrace. "I saw Faith with him."
"I told her to take him." His arms tightened around her when her voice broke, and still, he didn't say anything. With an indrawn breath, trying to take a moment to force the coherence through her pain, she began again. "I… don't think I should be holding Connor anymore. I mean… Fred's better with him and –"
"Cordelia." His voice was low, she could feel his lips moving alongside her ear, sending tingles that made her close her eyes. She only cried after the visions, and for so long she had tried to hide it, until she couldn't hide it anymore. And now she hated herself for the weakness, for the tears that made him hold her like this.
It was too painful to have him hold with such tenderness.
"Cordelia, you were able to hand Connor over before anything happened. The Powers that Be are protecting the child -"
"Yeah! By sitting on their fat butts and doing nothing! Angel," her voice was pleading, as she craned her head back to view him with dark hazel pools of sadness. "We can't trust them. You said so yourself - we're losing faith in -"
"I'm not losing faith in you."
She closed her eyes, shuddering against the words, the tears leaking out staining her cheek, making the pain that much more real. "I don't think I should be holding him or… taking care of him… anymore... I can't have that pressure, and it'll be okay - because Fred does the bedtime stories and the crazy singing anyway - and Gunn can change his diaper faster than anyone and you've seen Wes already trying to teach him to read - he shouldn't have that -"
"Cordy, don't." The words were firm, as his palm slipped about her waist until his thumbs barely skimmed the bottom swell of her breasts, his face burying in his neck, holding her as if she were some lifeline. "Don't say another word."
"Angel -"
"No."
She swallowed, but her fingers crept up and buried into the nape of his neck, feeling the soft silk of his hair, and her eyes closed and she just let it be.
For now.
It seemed, with the aching splintering that threatened her sanity, now was all she had.
--
Present Day – Kate's apartment
Cordelia was staring numbly at her coffee cup, swirling the liquid around with a twirl of her hands, ignoring the looks the three women gave her. She refused to see pity or feel anything other than the blankness that had taken over her senses.
Closing her eyes, she gave a long, ragged sigh.
Kate was still, her eyes strangely stinging, and her cup went down and her hand came forward. "Cordelia -"
"Hey, if you wanna hear about mounting sexual tension, let's discuss Faith's little slay-o-rama," Cordelia quipped, eyes opening and unexpectedly bright as she shrugged her shoulders. Her head whipped to Faith and the Slayer looked a little startled at the change in tone.
"Huh?"
"Well this thin line between love and hate had to start somewhere, didn't it? All that hostility and the hungry horny Faith never did quite shake that randiness."
"Cordelia!" Fred sounded horrified, her voice a fierce whisper, but Faith, who kept her eyes glued to Cordelia's, immediately just sat up.
"Yeah, sure, let's talk about me," she said hastily, arms waving in Kate and Fred's faces until they were looking at her, away from Cordelia.
Kate was silent, not easily swayed, and her blue eyes shifted once more to Cordelia's prone form.
"It's a damned doozy," Faith insisted. "Full of lewd suggestive arguments and like… sexual standoffs."
Fred said nothing, but Kate, to her credit, decided to play along, finally giving Faith her full attention.
"So what is going on with Wesley?"
--
Monday – Santa Monica
She walked with purpose in her step. Her hands were swinging loosely at her side, and her pelvis swayed from side to side, as if to some hidden beat.
There was sensuality in Faith's figure as she turned in the darkness of night, the sun's setting rays casting hues on the highlights that tumbled freely with the rest of the waves of the Slayer's long locks.
In her smile was a hint of her devilish nature, in the perfectly pouted lips that twirled up into a grin, moving with that skip.
Leather pants that molded to her hips perfectly, denim jacket that was short and tight, riding up when she walked so that fair, pale skin showed, muscles rippling with the power and femininity of a Slayer.
He had forgotten the hidden essence of a Slayer. He had almost forgotten the danger, and he cursed himself for it, as he continued to walk behind her, knuckles a little swollen but no worse for the wear.
Inside the male dominated Angel Investigations, Wesley had become used to protecting the females, moving in front to counter the attacks, draw the attack away from a nervous Fred and a less agile fighter that was Cordelia.
Granted, they were able to hold their own, but that was all they did. There was no need, when even Wesley, the poorest fighter of the three men, was able to keep the attack on him.
Instincts had been severely thwarted when the hand on his shoulder had swung him around, tossing him with the strength of an ox that resulted in him plowing into the child, inadvertently taking them out of the fight.
Gaining his breath, holding himself above the child, he had twisted his body to see the smile on Faith's face as she almost danced onto a nearby set of balcony steps, grabbing hold and swinging back, her foot crashing into the demon's face, forcing him to stumble back.
Two seconds later she had wrapped those strong thighs around the large neck, manipulating with incredibly agile feet before jerking.
A very audible snap was heard, and just like that, the demon slumped to the ground. There was no more fight from the animal.
Almost afraid to look at the smile on Faith's face, too reminiscent of violent years still gone unchecked, Wesley instead turned to the child. Helping the little dark skinned girl up, he took her by the hand, leading her away.
Faith caught up to him around the corner, slightly out of breath but barely perspiring, pausing when he handed the child to the mother, who hugged and kissed the child profusely, thanking Wesley for finding her.
"You're quite welcome," Wesley had answered pleasantly, smile lingering until the woman passed out of sight.
His hard gaze retuned then, as the two were left alone, and the smile that had previously been wide on Faith's face diminished slightly as she swallowed at the accusing look.
But true to her nature, never allowed to be beat down, the Slayer squared her shoulders and tossed the dark locks behind her, a dark grin on the dark face.
"So, Watcher? What now?"
He stiffened, sucking in his breath before turning back to her. "Don't ever call me that," he snapped. "I'm not a Watcher now. You more than saw to that."
She paused, the smile faltering slightly. "Thought you took care of that on your own, baby."
"Faith," he began, his tone nothing but warning. Blithely he wondered exactly what he was threatening against. Faith could take his life in two seconds, but the need for power, the need to believe he had some control, was all he had left. And for some reason, it worked somewhat, because Faith's jaw tightened and she said nothing else. "Now we go home."
She dug her hands in her pocket and halfway down the block she paused, steps faltering in the doorway of what appeared to be a club.
Wesley stepped into place next to her, gaze shifting from the club to her upturned face. "What is it?"
"You think they got a payphone in there?" she asked, her voice husky, edged with something else, post fight excitement, perhaps? "I need to call my parole officer."
"You can do that when we get home," he answered, crossing his arms.
Long fingers ran through the dark hair, a pink tongue darted out and licked her lips, adding moisture to them as she cocked her head. "I gotta call before six." She reached for Wesley's hand, but he flinched, jerking back. She caught the movement, and when he stepped back, something in her eyes dimmed, and then burst into a flash. "FUCK, Wesley. I was just going to point out the time."
He narrowed his eyes, and keeping his orbs pinned on hers, he reached into his jacket pocket, and pulled out his cellphone. "Call right here."
She pursed her lips, quiet for a moment, gaze flickering between the phone and his eyes. "Whatsa' matter, Wes? Don't trust me?"
"To be perfectly frank, not in the slightest," he answered, never moving, tone never changing. "Angel and Cordelia may not question why you were suddenly released from a life sentence, but you can bet I'm looking into it, Faith. And I WILL find your true intentions."
"You think I'm hiding something."
"I know you are."
Faith had a remarkable gift for hiding her emotions behind anger and resentment, but Wesley had finished being apologetic at the insecurity in the girl the second her knife had drawn across his skin. He ignored the tick on her jaw, even as he was close enough to see the glint in her eye and the hurt tremble of her lower lip. He ignored it all because he realized he had no idea who Faith was anymore.
Perhaps he never knew.
But he would never mistake her for what he thought she wasn't capable of. Not when he knew the darkness that rested in every heart, himself included.
Evil festered in hearts and left untreated, it ran rampant.
Faith's rage could not have been pacified in prison, and lost soul or not - Wesley had no qualms about ignoring the pretty face in favor of his friends safety.
And true to her nature, she surprised him. There was no outburst, no flinch, but a simple slow, lazy smile that spread across the bee stung lips, before she stepped backwards, tossing her arms wide in perfect invitation to her entire body.
"Pry away, Wesley. I've got nothing but intentions. Those are my only secrets left. If you can get to them, they deserve to be found out. I need a drink."
She turned, stepping down the stairs and under the awning, into the bar.
With a sigh and a tense body, coiled with tension, curiosity and a searing warmth in his stomach and abdomen, Wesley followed.
--
Present – the Hyperion
"Now I'm curious, Wesley," Lorne said, taking a toffee crunch chocolate covered pistachio – his addition to the lobby, thank you very much - and popping it into his mouth, chewing as he contemplated on the scene. "Did you ever find out Faith's true intentions?"
"Certainly." Wesley looked up from his shot of whisky and said in the same, matter-of-fact voice, "Faith had been released to kidnap and or kill Connor."
--
end chapter