Chapter Five

If I ever meet those Powers that Be I'm just going to... PUNCH them! In the nose! ... Do you think they have a nose? - Cordelia, To Shanshu in LA
--

Winnifred Burkle was by nature an optimistic woman, despite the somewhat psychotic bouts of rage, and even SHE thought it was kinda weird, that she was still so... cheery after all this time.

Gunn always told her it was sweet, and one time, when the world seemed so dark she thought she would drown from the depth of the blackness, he had held her, and whispered that it was the only thing that kept him from going insane.

Her ability to hope for the best, to believe in the wonderful nature of the human being, despite her own jaded personality, especially when they had seen just how evil some human beings could actually be, was an original thing, considering the company she kept.

Fred lived in a world of 'jadeds'. That's what she called them. 'Jadeds'. 'Cause that's what they were. Jaded people, cynical and bitter, with jaded personalities and jaded thoughts and seeped anger that infected their minds and their hearts. They didn't really KNOW that that's how she thought of them, but it made sense to her.

Sitting in the office, watching Angel as he peered through the blinds, she studied her group of Jadeds. There was Faith, black denim and a strappy tanktop pulled tight over her body, tattoo etched over her biceps, her signature scowl on her face as she lounged in a wooden chair. Her Jaded came from her station: a Chosen One who was really just the 'Left Over One'. Faith, who never really anyone before, became a Slayer when there was already a Slayer, and searching for a path, had spiraled into darkness.

Now, she hung by her buoy, her place at Angel Investigations. She was a 'Slayer', but no one ever dared mention it. Fred had asked her why she never talked about it, and Faith had only responded she didn't know what a Slayer was anymore, and didn't give a damn.

Fred's fingers tangled into her lap. One Jaded. In the lobby was another Jaded. Connor. A young boy whose life was stolen by a man he loved as he was taught to hate a father who hated himself and loved his son with all the passion a vampire could give. He believed he deserved anger, deserved hatred, and until recently, deserved to hate his father.

She managed a soft smile, broken and bitter. Connor would never see the world with innocent eyes. When he stumbled on something new, he immediately thought of its danger, its hidden meanings, how it might hurt him. He would never view something with the eyes of a child, happy and surprised at the unknown.

A warm hand curled around her slim shoulder and squeezed. Immediately her smile turned soft, as her hand stole up to cover Gunn's. Her Jaded. A young man who had once believed his life meant so little, he had sold his soul for a truck. With no air conditioning. Her Jaded was a big tall bear who growled, and his bite was as bad as his bark, but his eyes occasionally lit up. When he smiled, there was never a light more beautiful. It was in him that she realized her hope stemmed. In her Jaded there was an inner light that shown, a strength that came so easily, because he loved her. And if she looked hard enough, she saw the Jadeds' hope as well.

"Done?" she asked.

"Yeah. Checked out, clean bill of health. But no one's told me why we're all doin' this." Charles looked perplexed, cocked eyebrow comically out of place on his dark face as Faith shrugged.

"Beats the hell out of me," she replied. "That's a hell of a lot of money to spend on one damned prissy Seer."

"Cordeila's not prissy!" The outburst suddenly caused Fred to become the focal point of everyone in the room, and still unused to the attention, she colored, blushing as Faith smirked. "Well, she's not," Fred responded, shuffling under the Slayer's dark gaze. "She's ... feminine, and if this is how we're going to get her back-"

"We're doin' this to get her back?!" Charles blinked, shifting his glance now to Angel's form. The vampire was still staring out the window at Douglas and Connor. "Wait, wait. Lemme get this right. We're plying Cordy's man with dough, and THAT'S the plan? Tell me he's crazy."

"I'm not crazy," Angel said automatically, squinting. "I'm stalling. There's a difference."

Angel, of course. A jaded vampire with a soul who had loved and lost, and loved and lost, and loved and lost again. He was notorious for loving and losing, and as a result had come to hold onto anything he cared for so desperately he somehow smothered them and let them slip through their fingers.

"Think harder," Faith said lazily. "'Cause this shit with Bethany is running out on us and the last thing we have time for is playing doctor with Malibu Ken."

"She's leaving in two hours. Do you have any better ideas?"

Faith shrugged, grimacing, turning so she was suddenly twisted into her seat, legs crossed in an almost lotus position. Fred blinked. Faith was so ... flexible. Glancing dubiously down at her own legs, she considered attempting the same position, until she heard the Slayer's suggestion.

"We could always pretend to bomb the airport."

Fred's mouth dropped slightly.

"Could we?" And Angel was seriously considering the idea. He had on his 'broody' thinking face, pensive as he stared at the Slayer. He was actually... he couldn't really think that-

Fred squinted, her stomach dropping as the conversation suddenly turned... weird.

"Sure. Or even just make a call. Scare people enough to stop all the planes-"

"With security the way it is?" Charles GUNN! Of all people, he would think that maybe this was just not the best way to-

"Black bag in the middle of the terminal."

"They wouldn't let you or me in without searching, Faith."

"Yeah, but Connor-"

"GUYS!" Fred's face was beet red and her heart was near to exploding. "You can't plant a BOMB in LAX!"

It was two Fred outbursts in less than five minutes, and once again, everyone was staring at her, but Fred did NOT care.

"Aww, Freddie, it's just a little one," Faith had a full on grin widening on her lips.

"Shut up, Faith. Now, I want Cordy back as much as the rest of you, but don't you think we could find something a little less... ILLEGAL AND WRONG AND-"

"Okay, okay. No bomb. We wouldn't have done it, Fred," Angel muttered. "Really," he insisted when her eyes narrowed dubiously. "But at least it was an idea. Any other suggestions?"

Fred huffed, crossing her arms and sending her gaze heavenward in silent imploration.

"Well, I told Angel I'd seduce the bastard-"

The slamming of the door brought Faith's sentence to a sudden halt.

"Pardon?"

Fred knew that voice, it was unmistakable. Turning slowly, she felt her heartbeat thud and an uneasy squirm in the bottom of her stomach.

Wesley Wyndham Price had returned.

--

A hell dimension was surprisingly cold.

Sure, there were hot spots, unbearable places of heat, but mostly it was just cold. Callous. Lonely.

It was the loneliness that Cordelia largely suspected got to people in here. It wasn't just the pain, the agony, but the knowledge that there was nothing in here, no one that really cared about you.

That was the real hell. The rest was just sour cream on top of the taco.

'Sour cream on top of the taco'? Cordelia grimaced, the words leaving a sour taste in her mouth. One minute with Fred and the girl already had her spouting about food. Shaking her head, Cordelia couldn't resist a slight smirk.

Beside her, Lorne walked a bit unsteadily, hand tucked into the pocket of his bright blazer, red eyes staring unsurely around the corridor.

"I know," she responded immediately, hand skimming one rocky, clammy wall. "Ugly."

"And then some," he muttered. "Spend a lot of time here, sweet cheeks?"

Squelching the urge to ask Lorne which cheeks he meant, Cordelia responded. "Only during the interviews. You know the drill. Angel came in once, but I had to take over. I was too afraid that Powers would just get fed up with his little bursts of violence and keep him in here."

Lorne chuckled, a grim sound that ended as soon as it had begun. Walking in companionable silence, Cordelia worked out her game plan, taking a minute to prepare herself, before she turned the corner, and completely froze.

Crap.

"Especially," she breathed, "Considering who has decided to take the sentry duty."

Standing at the entrance was a demon. He was a drab color, not very much color to him at all. His skin was... not there. He wore mostly an exo-skeleton, had more than one mouth, and he was big. Very big.

"Ah. Skip." Lorne seemed almost out of breath as he caught up. Whether that was due to nerves or actual exhaustion, Cordelia didn't ask, or care. "So... how are we going to- Cordelia?"

Her feet were already moving, crunching on the gravel. Even in the barely lit corridor, her rage was unmistakable. Leather jacket, skirt and pumps, Cordelia strode forward, hazel eyes glinting as the demon Skip turning in her direction, and froze.

"Cordy!" he sounded jubilant. "Well, if this isn't a surprise, I don't know what-"

She slapped him. Soundly.

Cordelia's arms were crossed, eyes narrowed and head tilted as she waited for Skip to recover. A gasp emerged from behind her, it had to be Lorne's, but she paid it no attention, eyes only on Skip.

Her ex-Demon Guide ruefully massaged at his face. "I hate when you do that."

"THAT was for the crowbar. Don't think I didn't hear about it."

"He lived, didn't he?" her former demon guide muttered. "And besides, why should you care?"

"Old habits die hard."

The glare he gave her would have wilted anyone else, but Cordelia knew Skip, and even as she smacked him on his other mouth, missing his shoulder, she had to fight to contain the smile on her face at the sight of the guy. The small, almost sheepish grin on the big Warrior tipped the scale, and the scowl slipped off her face, giving way to a real grin, twitching on the edges of her mouth.

"Hi."

"Come 'ere, you crazy loon," he said affectionately, gathering her close for one very uncomfortable hug.

"Oww- spike." Cordelia's cheek was plastered against one very hard bony plate of a chest and it... well, it hurt. Pushing against him, she gave a slight 'oomph', before finally managing to break free. Geez. Bear hug, much? Trying vainly to reposition her mussed hair, Cordelia took in a breath, attempting to recover from rather painful show of affection. "Uh... Lorne, you remember Skip, right?"

"Indeed I do, Poodle," he said, coming forward and airily shaking the taller demon's hand. "Quite a grip on you, Skip."

"The Aura Reader. Been a long time. Nice ensemble. I prefer muted colors myself."

Glancing down at his attire, Lorne could only give a polite shrug and a carefree smile. "I know what you mean. Part of the reason I like to go a bit cheerful. Throws people off."

Two demons discussing clothes. Could there BE anything scarier?

The wall underneath her shoulders was quickly getting cold and clammy. Cordelia pushed off of it, squaring her shoulders and snapping her fingers to get their attention.

"Still here, guys."

"And yes- What's the occasion?" Skip was grinning merrily, and Cordelia was grateful. Obviously, some of the badness of the past was water under the bridge to him, and despite the twinge of bitterness in her heart, she could understand the giddiness. There was history here. They were friends... despite the Angel factor. And the abandonment factor. And the continual slaps in the face.

"I need a favor."

"Anything. Just name it."

"I need to see Bethany."

"Anything but that." As quickly as the grin slid on, it came off. His tone sharp and angry. The change was immediate, and intimidating. Skip was a dangerous guy, and Cordelia could feel Lorne noticing it, when he moved a bit closer to her, slightly behind.

"Just an interview."

"Only Champions allowed, Cordelia." Skip's eyes narrowed, much in the way they usually did during their spats, the 'don't-mess-with-me,I'm-on-to-you-and-your-vampire-hubby-who-I-hate' look.

"What, my dues expired or something?" she asked pointedly.

He was quiet, an intense stare directed at her that made the demon look angered, mean, something she was almost sure he wasn't. The thing with Skip: he was loyal only to the Powers, and she had come to learn that it was a matter of trust with him when it came to her own future: namely, she didn't.

"No."

"She needs a witness. You know the trials."

"And I know you're the last person in earth, heaven or hell who would want the job."

"What'd she do to you, honey bunch?" Lorne's query was almost casual, hand casually spread to palm against a rock, studying it methodically. "You've got a bit of a personal stake in this."

"Stay out of this, Aura Boy."

"Boy, he's mean when he's riled."

"You haven't seen anything yet." And she meant it. Her eyes pinned her old Demon Guide to the wall, eyebrow raised suggestively, and for once, she let the memories come, pointedly making her gaze tell what her words could not.

He remembered her stubborn streak way too well.

True to form, Skip looked almost uneasy, turning a slighter shade of blue, before suddenly blurting, "Don't think I don't know what you're doing, Cordelia."

"Oh?" she feigned innocence, batting eyelashes and battling the smirk on her face. "What am I doing?"

"Using this guy, bringing him in here."

"Who, Lorne?" she blinked, turning to eye her friend. "He missed me so much he came with me to spend more time with me."

"We're bonding. I would have preferred an illicit love affair, but you know... she's engaged and all that." The Pylean demon looked remarkably at ease, eyes sparkling with a hidden amusement that told Cordelia he was quick learner. It was almost nostalgic.

Turning back, she cocked her head. "So? You know the rights. You know the rules. I'm going in."

"What does it matter to you?" he demanded quietly. "I thought you were out of this."

"I don't want to live with my mother-in-law."

It was a confusing sentence. Skip took a half second to process it, before deciding it was easier to just ignore it, and continue to bluster.

"Cordelia-"

"You don't want me to live with my mother-in-law, do you, Skip? You being, a really great friend and all. You've been wanting me to get away from Angel for years, right?"

"Yes, but-"

"And doing this last job will get me lots of money, and I'll need that if I'm going to start my new life away from my evil vampire husband. You want that, don't you-"

"Cordelia-"

"And being as I've never been a tattle tale, you wouldn't want me to suddenly develop diarrhea of the mouth and remind your superiors about that time you visited the best little Whorehouse in Los Angeles when you were SUPPOSED to be helping Angel, would you?"

Sudden silence.

She felt almost smug. Higher being or not, it paid to be a bitch.

Lorne whistled, an admiring gesture that made Skip glare behind her, sending the scatching patented icy stare in his direction.

She waited patiently.

Three... two... One.

"Five minutes."

"Love you."

"Shut up."

"Keep him company, Lorne," she said sweetly, winking as she walked around Skip, and into the jail, the smiling falling from her face almost immediately.

--

Fred didn't miss the Kool-Aid smile that passed on Faith's features, akin to something along the lines of a Cheshire Cat as Wesley stepped into the office.

Fred swallowed hard. Jaded Number - oh, she lost count. Four?

Wesley was always Wesley to her. He would always be Wesley to her: a good man. A man with values. A man who sometimes wore glasses and had dark blue eyes, who wore a mantle of responsibility and underneath the ever hardening exterior, a heart of gold.

But even Fred had to admit that Wesley had changed. Roughness graveled his voice and dark blue eyes now looked even darker, more piercing. The glasses were gone, in favor of contacts, leaving open a scowled face that was naked. A five o'clock shadow on the tanned bronzed face did nothing to hide the etched scar on running from his ear to his chin.

It hurt Fred, somewhere deep down inside, when she saw it. And even still, she couldn't help but feel the relief, even with the apprehension. Wesley had explored, delved into darkness, experimented, experienced true evil -

But he was still Wesley.

Somehow.

"Hey, dog," Gunn said, voice affectionate, but guarded.

Fred turned back, suddenly aware of the fact that Wesley, at that moment, had eyes for no one but Faith. The Slayer in question was currently locked into a heated gaze with her former Watcher. As always, it fascinated Fred. The way Faith's arms curled around the chair, the way she seemed to tremble just a little bit at the sight of him. The way she always seemed to breathe with her mouth open, like she needed a little bit more air when she was seeing Wesley.

And the forced carelessness in her voice when she spoke, like she had to convince herself that he was no different, talking to him was just like talking to anyone else. "I was just telling Angel that I wouldn't mind seducing Cordy's fiancé."

"I see." Wesley, a former employee of Wolfram and Hart, had hooded eyes, a deepened tone, and he was now two feet away from Faith, looking down at her with a frown. "Do you believe you could?"

"Fuck yeah. I seduced you, didn't I?"

Fred had to roll her eyes. How many times were they going to go through this? Sexposition. Nice.

The tip of Wesley's mouth quirked, just once. "I seem to recall I seduced you."

Even Angel got bored, turning his gaze away, preferring to continue to peek through the blinds again.

"You just keep saying that, Wes." Faith's chuckle was low. "Just remember who you're working for now."

Right, Fred remembered that. It had been a long and crazy game, and Cordy had still been here when it went on. Faith and Wesley both set on seducing each other to bring the other to their side, and she had to hand it to Faith. She was right. She had won that one.

Kinda.

And Wesley knew it. He never said a word about it, and he didn't admit it now. Instead, Wesley arched an eyebrow, his glare dark and vivid. "So this is the plan, Angel?" he called out, never taking his eyes away from Faith's own irises.

"I don't see anything wrong with it," she murmured, still a foot away. Neither moving closer.

"*snort*Getaroom*cough*" Fred sighed, tangling her fingers with Gunn's. Subtle, but clear. She loved her big old bear.

Faith and Wesley, as usual, ignored them both, too involved in their mind swapping games of cat and mouse.

"Neither do I, except perhaps if he lays one finger on you, I'll kill him my bloody self," Wesley said finally.

And Faith grinned. An actual grin that accented cheekbones and brought a face that was weary and tired alive with beautiful giddiness.

Morons. Fred sank into her wooden seat. Romance at Angel Investigations. Talk about being screwed.

"See?" Faith turned away from her lover, palm up in a resigned wave. "Problem solved."

"Killing him won't bring Cordelia back, Faith," Angel said, snapping the blinds shut.

"Plus it being wrong to kill a human and all THAT," Fred said indignantly. "Geez. Have you guys forgotten we're the good guys?"

She got patronizing grins from all three of them. Sighing, she cradled her cheek against Gunn's palm. He patted her softly. "I need Cordy back," she muttered. "SHE would at least pretend to go by the book."

"Did you get the check?" Angel asked, moving toward Wesley, staring expectantly.

Wesley nodded immediately, pulling from his pocket a small rectangular piece of paper. "It's a lot of money, Angel."

"Don't worry about it, Wes."

"I will." Wesley's tone was hard, as it usually was now, but Angel only smiled.

Fred supposed she could have been grateful for that. They weren't friends, not yet, but they respected each other. Took care of each other. All for the love of two women.

Love was a very powerful thing.

"Did he see you?"

"No, I came in through the basement," Wesley said, striding with him to the blinds, peeking through. He studied a minute. "Good Lord. Reminds me a bit of that actor chap..."

"Yeah... you know, I thought that too..."

"Matt Damon," Fred chirped in.

"You know what to do?" Angel asked.

Wesley Wyndham Pryce, thirty-four, shot a glance to his girlfriend, pulled at the four hundred dollar tie he wore, and smiled.

He must have noticed Fred's shiver, because the smile he gave her was different. Warm.

She finally allowed herself to breathe.

"We'll behave, Fred," he said.

"Somewhat," Angel said. Turning back to Fred and Gunn, he ordered, "Get a status update on the trial."

"What about you, dog?" Charles asked, and Fred looked from him to Angel, curious--and not just a little frightened—as well as to what Angel's itinerary might involve next.

Angel blinked. "It's my turn," he stated simply, as if that explained everything.

Faith and Wesley, already moving towards the basement exit, halted and turned back.

"Your turn for WHAT?" asked Wesley, eyes narrowing.

Angel blinked again. "A check up, of course."

"A--wh-what?" Fred stuttered, a sinking feeling settling in her stomach.

"Check up," Angel repeated, gesturing towards the lobby. "Can't very well not include myself in this policy, now can I?"

--

It was way too dark in here.

Cordelia wrinkled her nose, taking in the acrid smell of sulpher in the air. It was nauseating, but she had long ago learned to ignore it, focus her mind on other things, and she did so now.

Bethany... the last time she had seen Bethany had been years ago. Angel had saved her, and Cordelia had remembered why. She sometimes sorted her memories, not by time, or by feelings, but by visions, and this one came back, loud and clear. Pre-demon days, pre-highlights, pre-Darla: telekinesis, a scared girl running through an alley, hick clothes on a skinny frame, eyes wide with fear, heart pounding with emotion, and for just a split second: rage. Pure, homicidal, rage.

She smooshed those guys with a garbage bin.

Cordelia hadn't trusted her. She had liked her, because it was kinda hard not to like the semi-deranged psycho telekinetic earnest girl. She was like a wounded puppy, unsure how to act around Cordelia, unsure how to act around Angel.

Of course, the chick had issues. Her father had been a serious sicko, and Cordelia had gotten a telekinetic shot of a nail in her arm for her trouble, but she and Angel had gotten through. Somehow, Bethany had reached a point where there was no going back, and left Wolfram and Hart, intent on starting a new life.

She had voiced it wasn't a good idea to leave, Angel had agreed, offering more help, asking Bethany to stay a while, learn to control her powers, but Bethany, head strong and, yes, just a little stupid, flashed a big, hopeful smile as she tossed her duffel bag over her shoulder and shook her head.

"I know where I'm going, Angel. Don't know how I'll get there, but thanks to you, I'm sure I'll enjoy the ride."

They had lost track of her after that. Lost in Darla, lost in Connor, lost in the affecting age that the years had on all of them, but Cordelia, somewhere, in the back of mind, when she contemplated on memories, on the visions of her lives, had wondered about the girl who had been so incredibly scared, where she had ended up.

She now had her answer. She had ended up here.

Taking a breath, she found the dark entrance of the cell, passing her palm over the rocky outcrop, muttering a soft spoken command, some ancient language she ALWAYS managed to mangle, and the bare concrete looking wall disappeared to reveal a young girl with her head buried between her palms, sitting in the corner of a darkened cell, still and alone.

A lost soul.

"Bethany."

The red-haired Bethany, thinner than she remembered, started, turning her head and whipping around to focus those intense orbs on her. She shivered, just once, before nodding shakily, wary and unsure.

"Cordelia," she responded, to her credit, tone much easier than Cordelia expected. Slightly hostile, defensive. "Been a while."

"Yeah, it has. Years." Cordelia was quiet, hazel gaze roving over the cell, trying once again to get her bearings, step away from her reactions, and analyze. Moving forward, she found the old metal chair that Skip must have left behind, and sank down on it, studying the girl. "Heard you went all stupid and got into some trouble."

Okay, not the most diplomatic thing to say, but it had the right reaction. The little spark that Cordelia hoped to see was there, flashing in Bethany's eyes as the girl's shoulders squared defensively, and she tossed her head back, proud and mad. "I'm not stupid," she blurted out, hands twitching, "I'll get myself out."

"Oh? And how will you do that?" The silence that followed was almost comical. Bethany honestly tried to think of an answer, almost as if she had to come up with one at that second, in order to save face with Cordelia.

"Well... I'll find a way. I WILL," she insisted when Cordelia shook her head, running hands through brown strands and pursing her lips. "And what are YOU doing in here anyway?"

"Bethany, I'm slightly hurt you haven't kept in touch," the Seer responded, smiling tightly.

"What? You have a vision or something?"

"Try, or something," Cordelia said stiffly. "I'm vision free at the moment, thank God."

"Thank God," Bethany sputtered. "He's the reason I'm in this shit."

"The reason you're in this 'shit', is because you're a very stupid, very wild, little girl who should known better than to try to kill two of the good guys-"

"I didn't! And you know that! That Skip guy is totally blowing smoke up your ass and-"

"Bethany, shhh." Clearly, this was the wrong approach. Bethany was jittery and angry, and in complete belief of her innocence. That was good. Raising a hand, Cordelia let her palm brighten up some, a special effect that made Bethany falter, stop. One reassuring smile, courtesy of the Cordelia Chase School of Acting, was pulled onto her lips, and a motion, made Bethany come closer, lean against the bars.

"What the hell happened to you?"

"Long story," Cordelia answered, tight and gentle. She remembered now, what worked with Bethany. The truth, in short doses. This conversation was going to be as simple as her earlier one with her, when she had warned telekinetic abusee not to 'bone' her boss. "But we're not talking about me, now. We're talking about you."

Bethany swallowed hard, a softened tone now lilting from her lips in an emphatic sigh. "I didn't... Cordelia, I didn't mean for it to happen the way it did. It wasn't me... it's this twisted ass world, ya know?"

"Sure," Cordelia responded, leaning forward as she dug into her leather jacket, fishing around. "You know, they're thinking of trying you as insane."

"I'm NOT." Bethany's fingers shook slightly, hair dirty and mussed from her stay in the cave. "I'm fucking sane, Cordelia. I swear. I just didn't mean to..."

"Okay... relax, okay?" Finally, she found what she was looking for. Pulling a box of cigarettes into her palm, she held them up, lighting her hand slightly so Bethany could see what she held. "Want one?"

They were reserves, old and from her more stressed out days, when she succumbed to the dangers of nicotine. Eyes narrowed, slightly surprised, Bethany shook her head slightly, turning her gaze back to her hands. Cordelia took a stick herself, and stuffed the package back into her pocket, keeping Bethany's reaction carefully in her mind.

"So tell me what happened," she said casually. "Without freaking out."

"I just..." Bethany took a breath, flashed a grim smile, and nodded. "It was just... I was broke, right? And didn't have much money, and... well... this whole thing I have with the moving... Ever since I've learned to control it, it's been easy to get money by just... getting stuff for people."

"You mean stealing." Bethany shot her a guarded look, but Cordelia only shook her head. "Don't. I'm not going to go all judgmental on you, but just state things how they are."

There was a long silence as Bethany regarded her, but Cordelia kept her gaze level, and eventually, the girl nodded. "Yeah. Stealing. It's easy enough, and... easy money."

"So, someone had you stealing from these two?"

"A guy. I didn't know who he was with. I kinda had a bad feeling but, I needed the money, so... I said I'd meet with him, and Lilah was there."

Lilah. Great.

Cordelia paused in her task of shredding her cigarette, flickering a glance to Bethany. "So you knew Wolfram and Hart was involved."

Bethany shrugged. "Sure. I had no idea that those two guys would be there.... I mean, I was all 'fuck you', but then Lilah said something, and I needed the money-"

"What'd she say?" Cordelia asked quietly. Lilah was involved, which meant Wolfram and Hart was involved, which could have meant any number of things. The sinking feeling in her stomach liquefied and suddenly hardened with the force of an anvil.

"Some stupid shit, I didn't really pay much attention-"

"Bethany." Her voice was stronger, more insistent, and she succeeded in forcing the girl to look at her face. "Wha'd she say?"

Bethany scrunched her face, quiet for a moment, before she said, almost uncertainly, "Production for use."

"Production for use," Cordelia responded.

"Yeah." Bethany brightened up a bit, as the conversation came back to her. "I was telling her, 'screw you', you know, and turned and she said that I had this gift, and everything should be made use of."

Cordelia was quiet, mind whirling with unshared thoughts. Lilah Morgan. She knew Lilah 'Slutty' Morgan. She knew the woman with the ice-cold heart. For a long time, they had been more than nemesis, but almost equals on opposite sides. She knew Lilah, could almost picture the smooth, honeyed tone that Lilah Morgan had used on the young red-headed spitfire.

Cordelia smiled. She knew Lilah Morgan.

"Makes quite a bit of sense, doesn't it?"

Bethany, again startled into silence, gave her glance. "Yeah, I guess," she said haltingly.

"Tell me something, Bethany." Cordelia pursed her lips, eyes on the cigarette quickly being shredded in her fingertips. "When you found yourself trapped with those two men, and when you were trying to steal what they contracted you to steal, what were you thinking about?"

Bethany blew her breath out, shrugging raggedly. "Shit, Cordy. I don't know..."

"Come on, you're not dense, Bethany. You must have thought of something."

"Well... yeah, but-"

"Could it have been... oh, maybe... 'production for use'?" Bethany blinked, and Cordelia smiled, taking a moment to allow that to sink in, before continuing. "What're your powers for, Bethany? Up until now, what have you used them for?"

Bethany looked bewildered, but she answered, slowly. "Keeping myself alive."

"Ah... so... maybe that's why you used them. Thought you were in danger, had those words swimming around in your head. Lilah, with her smooth talking..." Bethany's eyes began to glitter, coming alive before her. "And you must have thought, when you were staring into those guy's eyes, 'production for use'."

"Yeah..."

"Seems reasonable?"

"Yeah. Yeah!" Bethany sat up straighter, a fighting gleam in her blue irises as she almost began to hope. "I never wanted to kill those guys, but Lilah and her stupid speech, it hit me, 'production for use'-"

"Sure."

"Course! That's why I did what the hell I did! Lilah Morgan! Simple as that."

"Sure it is."

"I'm not fucking evil, not cause of that! Nothing evil about that."

"Nope." Cordelia grinned. "Nothing at all."

Bethany took in a breath, trembling slightly as she blew it out, hands burying into her red strands as she took it all in. "Fuck... Cordelia, I'm not evil."

"No, Bethany," Cordelia eyes caught the slight trembles, the way the young girl seemed to lean against the railings, gravitating to her strength. "I don't think you are." Nodding, she stood, moving away from the cell. "Thanks."

Bethany glanced up, gaze pinned on the Seer, standing with her. "You're leaving?"

"I have to." Cordelia's tone was flippant, not uncaring, but Bethany seemed almost ready to cry. Boy... Cordelia paused, staring at the telekinetic. Someone that clingy couldn't possibly be evil.

"Why?"

"Someone's gotta save your life."

Bethany was silent, mouth opened slightly, but when Cordelia winked, the young girl's own smile broadened.

"Cool."

"Yeah. Cool." Cordelia shook her head, resisting the urge to chuckle and turned away, heading back to the entrance.

She had a crap load of work to do, and almost no time to do it.

But hey, if there was a chance to save a soul and screw Lilah 'Slutty' Morgan out of it before she got married and moved to Maine, then it was just...

Well... cool.

--

Jaws dropped around the room and it was Faith who managed to explode with a prompt, "hell yes!"

A charming--or at least, thought Fred, Angel seemed to think it was charming--smile spread across the vampire's features. "Guys," he started patiently, "how would it look if you all died after I'd taken out a ridiculously overpriced policy on your lives? Without including me? I'd find myself in a lot of hot, holy water, that's what." Angel nodded firmly, obviously pleased with this deduction. "Only solution is to get insured as well."

"But, dog, you're already DEAD." Charles pointed out.

Angel looked a little pained by the observation. "Undead," he corrected. "UNdead."

Faith rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. "Ang--dead or undead, the fact is the moment you walk out there demanding a physical, Ken Doll's Doc Magoo is going to take one listen to
that silent cavity you call a chest and JOIN you in the land of the Dead."

Angel shook his head. "Not a problem."

'Not a problem,' thought Fred disbelieving. "Not a problem?!"

"Angel," Wesley again, voice calm and patient and familiar. Fred sighed just a little in relief. Wesley would make Angel see the stupidity of this idea. It was what Wesley did. Had always done. "No doctor--and certainly not the one currently in the Lobby--will give you a clean bill of health suitable for a life insurance policy."

Fred nodded along to Wesley's words, agreeing wholeheartedly, and was utterly dismayed when Angel appeared to ignore the former Watcher completely. Moving back to the window, Angel cracked the blinds once more, peering out and then smiling.

"Right on time."

Wesley and Faith exchanged a glance but it was Charles who parroted the vampire. "Right on time?"

Nodding, Angel ran a hand through his hair and headed for the office door. "Yeah. My doctor's here."

Jaws once again dropped and Fred clambered from her seat to the window. Outside, talking with Douglas and the insurance-doc was a bald-headed Patrick-Stewart-clone. Complete with navy suit and a black doctor's bag.

"YOUR doctor?" Faith asked, eyebrows raised.

With a nod, Angel grinned. "Got Lorne to call in a favor. The guy's a real MD and everything--treats humans by day and demons by night. Completely legit and certified."

"Certified," snorted Charles, disbelievingly.

"Don't you mean CERTIFIABLE," snarked Faith as Angel, still smiling that cat-ate-canary grin, pulled open the office door and headed out into the lobby.

"Well," Wesley answered the slayer as he shrugged and placed an arm around her shoulder, guiding her towards the other exit, "one of them will be."

Fred watched them go, gave one last look to Angel through the blinds, and then turned towards Charles. Everything was so crazy right now... Cordelia back but not back, Angel getting
a LIFE INSURANCE policy, Wesley and Faith planning mischief under a jealous vampire's blessing...

Her head spinning, she gave her boyfriend a bewildered glance. What the hell is happening here?

But Charles looked troubled and he answered her unspoken question with only a shrug.

Jadeds. They were TOO jaded. It was frightening.

More than ever, they needed Cordelia. Fred shuddered.

Because this, the way they were blurring lines, it was getting just scary.

--

END CHAPTER