Title: If There Never Was
Author: Ignited
Posted: 03-11-2002
Rating: R for language and sexual situations
Email: Ignited
Content: Romance, Drama, Angst, AU-ish
Summary: One night passes in Angel's life, and before he knows it, the fate of his life and others is twisted so drastically that he begins to lose his mind…
Spoilers: Everything up to 'Waiting in the Wings', set a few months after in the future. Lots of speculation here.
Disclaimer: The characters in the Angelverse were created by Joss Whedon & David Greenwalt. No infringement is intended, no profit is made.
Distribution: Disharmony, List archives & those with permission. Otherwise, just ask!
Notes: This has been sitting in my computer since June, at least. Along with two other fanfics that I planned to write, but unfortunately have no time to put real thought into them. So, this is a combination of three different ideas. With the emergence of Vanilla Sky, a similar but distinctly different story, I decided to finally complete this minor story, of which has turned into a full fledged monstrosity of a fic. It's my seriously screwed up and basically nothing alike, take on Vanilla Sky. Open minds are required, please…
Dedication: To Steffi and Kath– for always believing in me, plus generally being helpful, caring, and showing good input. And to Melissa and Christie, who are fic goddesses and great friends. This one's for you. Chapter 10 Dedication: To Greenie, 'cause I'll miss him dearly!
Feedback: I am a feedback junkie, so make me high.

Part 17

Moving through the tunnels wasn't too hard for Angel, now that he had that influx of memories steal into his brain. It was Cordelia that Angel was worried about. He hated this place; such filth for her to travel in, but it was better than the city above. Angel didn't know exactly why the fires were going on, or why Wolfram and Hat pulled out the big guns, but all in all, things were bad.

The sting of recent memories hit Angel again when they came to another crossroads. Hand slick with sweat, clenched with Cordelia's, Angel paused, trying to decide. Having her tell him not to love her... To instill doubt in himself. More loathing. Cordelia didn't mean it-At least, that's what Angel liked to believe.

But Buffy.

It hadn't been too long since he had last seen her. A couple hours, or months, depending on how you'd look at it.

Buffy had changed. Spike had changed.

Had they known that all of it was so wrong and different? Did they?

"Angel, wait. What are we going - to do?" Cordelia asked, his grip tightening on her wrist. She followed along for a couple more steps before pulling on his arm. "Angel!"

"We'll figure it out." At her look, Angel said firmly, "We will."

The thoughts in his mind were tumultuous, a never-ending pounding racking his brain. The visions were too painful now, and it made it very hard for him to think, much less function. Frowning, Angel staggered, but just where he needed to: his hand clamped onto the rung of a ladder leading up to the surface, moonlight flooding into the cramped space through the manhole cover.

Breathing hard, Angel leaned against the ladder pole, eyes snapped shut.

They were switched, strong and determined, weak from visions, mind vibrant, mind deteriorating.

"Hold on," Cordelia instructed, brow furrowed. She hated to see Angel like this, suffering in this - this place, whatever it was. Brushing a cool hard against his brow, Cordelia rubbed his collarbone, opening his duster more to give him air. Her hands gently caressing his face, Cordelia briefly massaged a trembling Angel, before glancing to the ladder. She turned back to look at him, trying to remain calm.

Angel could handle anything. This was the same Angel who went to Hell and back, then again figuratively to save her from Pylea. A little wacky place like this didn't mean diddlysquat.

Right?

It was hard for her to agree.

"Just come on, Angel. We're almost outside. Then we can - we can go to Wesley's. I bet he can figure out what went wrong. What's happened."

"To us." Nodding, he seemed to regain some color to his face, touching her elbow. The spark of electricity went through him again, nothing like he'd felt in.. ever since. Being with her again, with HER, was both thrilling and painful at the same time. It explained the strong connection between them, the mind-blowing sex that ensued.

Ever realities apart, they remained connected.

He guided her to the ladder, and Cordy climbed.

*

Turning away from the shell of the Hyperion hotel, Buffy Summers broke down in the street and started to cry.

It wasn't the hotel itself that was the source of pain and grief. It was the absolute, terrifying fear and numbness that slammed into her right then, making her see white stars before those stars collided. The crack, awakening Dawn drummed through her, lightning, thunder and strings. Reality ripped apart, blue light coalesced and her body was flying down into a portal. Dying again, only to be resurrected from bliss.

The green, black and brown of fatigues mixed with the soft orange and red hues of candles, sinewy muscles of Riley gave way to chilled marble of Spike. Model curls of Glory divided, the bitchy candor giving way to laughing and nerdiness of the Troika. Giles faded from her vision, and the piercing blue eyes and long brown hair of a younger girl stepped behind her, challenging.

Dawn.

Mist seeped through the town of Sunnydale, figures slammed down, not even bothering to care. A turn left, and where there had been a fading street came two, three people, falling perfectly from the sky. The bell of the Magic Shop trilled, the table, books, merchandise. People fell into place, and one by one she knew their names again. Willow. Tara. Xander. Anya. Giles. And. Dawn.

Spike.

No, no, Spike was holding her, and she was in his arms as Spike carried her, close to running. Furtive eyes cast up, half open, a snarling vamp faced Spike, shaking and jerking his head. The soft orange glow of fire was behind him, the harsh cutting of blades through air as helicopters whizzed overhead.

"We've got to get you out of here. Where's the nancy boy's house?" Knowing he would get no response from her, Spike continued on towards Wesley's apartment. Electricity ran through him, the feeling of a soft and fragile Buffy in his arms, and the confusion of memories flooding in.

He loved her with all of his unbeating hear, to the point of obsession.

No different from now.

Hell, even in another life his heart bled for her.

*

Cordelia pulled Angel up from the deep yawning mouth of the sewer, letting him rest an arm around her shoulder. She pushed him gently, moving him along with her, feeling him lean into her. The heat radiating from his body startled her, unused to this sensation coming from. from Angel. Cordy knew not to dwell on it, not to become absorbed by the constant string of what if 's dancing in her mind, for she wouldn't be able to concentrate and think clearly if she did. The pain of losing him to vampirism ran deep through her, but it was needed. It was necessary, because this world was wrong. People were dying because of them, and people were not saved.

Some people hadn't been born. Like Connor.

Connor.

The stinging taste of regret filled her mouth, and Cordelia hated it.

Angel was here, alive, warm, and he loved her. But Cordelia was going to change that. She was going to help take it away from him. And she hated it all the much more.

"I don't mean to piss you off, Angel, but. what the hell is going on?"

The snark and wit returned, the way she left it, feeling normal from her lips, not half sorry for talking to him in that fashion as before.

He kept wincing though, and it made her more afraid. She knew what he was feeling, the aloneness, the stark terror of victims in visions, and the unbearable, mind numbing pain of it all. But Angel had strikes against him, from the crash, and it would not be too long until they would take their final toll on him.

Cordelia would not let him wait to die.

"Something must have - happened. Something we did. I did. Maybe I accidentally went through a portal, or some mystical trap-"

"You don't fall into a portal accidentally. Trust me," Cordelia deadpanned, not getting any response from Angel. The streets were quiet, dark, and no ra dios were blaring. Shops were locked up, some broken windows, but they'd long since been taped up. This was an unnaturally quiet place in the city, residential apartments, bodegas, cleaners lining the sidewalks. Traffic lights flared yellow, settling for a red hue, although there were hardly any cars in sight, save for those parked.

Angel sighed heavily, looking down at her. "I know. I mean the type of portal you can't see. Like a rip in the-"

"Oh no. Don't you get all Voyager-y on me. Or Enterprise. Whatever that show is."

"-Fabric of time." He rolled his eyes, and Cordelia smiled. That was good. Feeling a very warm, and very human Angel was good too.

But it wouldn't last. None of it did.

Clearing her throat, Cordelia said, "Are you even sure that these memories. that they're-"

"I have a son, Cordelia," Angel responded quickly, straightening. "He's real. And alive."

"I know that, Angel. It's just that - I don't know. Maybe this was what the Powers wanted us to do."

"Do? Do what?" Angel asked, already sure of the answer.

"They sent us to this reality. To help someone. To live." Cordelia shrugged, unsure. "Why they settled for making me a bitch, and making you. in another extent, a bitch, I have no idea."

Ignoring the bitch comments, Angel stopped walking. Cordelia jerked in surprise when he pulled away from her. He seemed to regain the strength again, eyes dark, head raised. He was more tan than he remembered, than she knew him to actually be. The street experience had not left her though, glancing left and right, long dark locks sliding over firm shoulders. They were alone, the two of them.

There had been more. Was Wesley really safe? Faith? Was he safe with that homicidal woman?

Buffy.

Cordelia hadn't thought too much of Buffy before this all happened. She was too far busy with Angel, getting used to the manic way Angel wanted to keep at working, getting used to waking up at odd hours to feed Connor. But it was nice, those times, because Angel was always there. He surprised her the first time he took over her shift. How she had walked in, fresh and wet from taking a shower, bundled up in a robe. And Angel was there, in his dark clothing, hair poking this way and that due to sleeping and various activities.

The bottle had rested against his chest and for a while he played with Connor's tiny little fingers, moving his pointer finger gently in the baby's small fist.

It was beautiful.

More to the point, seeing moments like these made the grimy Sunnydale years fall away, Queen C license plates and demon snake loving frat boys vanished. Buffy had returned from the dead-again-and all was good for her. Angel needed time to mend the emotional wounds that opened when she died, and she gave him that time. The whole summer. He needed it.

So when she saw Buffy in this reality, she hadn't known her. In a way, even in the normal world, Cordy didn't know her, truthfully. She'd written her off as a psycho, a slayer with a bad record when it came to love. Angel did love her deeply, so there must have been something about her, she thought later on.

The cheating that went on not only between Buffy and Angel, but Faith and Spike, made her uneasy. They all had flaws, amplified in this dance of twisted love, romance, and betrayal. Spike, the best friend of Angel, jonesing for Buffy, Angel's girlfriend. Clearly, things had turned out wrong in that spoke of the whole wheel, but it made her stronger.

Cordelia felt loved, truly and equally.

Buffy however, felt cheated out of a normal relationship with Angel, so she went along with Spike. Why? Did she know how much she hurt him? Had the attraction been there since day one? Had she lost any vague trace of desire for Angel because of his appearance?

More and more, Cordelia thought that this was a test from the Powers. How willing were the warriors ready to trace the line between dark and light, rising and falling?

And what side were they on?

Wanting to ask Angel more questions, Cordelia moved forward, a harsh chilling wind flaring up. It whipped around her, stinging like whips, hitting skin roughly, sending Cordelia to latch onto a much warmer Angel. He fumbled, hand searching for her own for a few seconds, then clasped, head turning left and right. The air seemed to grow humid, hardening into a black, smoky mist that blew viciously around them. Like a hurricane, only milder. It was still just as scary.

Yearning to be heard over the deafening noise, Cordelia shouted, "ANGEL!"

With the fluidity of a man, once two hundred year old vampire, Angel snaked an arm around Cordelia's waist, pulling her close to his body. Squinting to keep the dust and debris flying from hitting his eyes, Angel waited for the terror to stop. It did, wind whipping to coalesce into a column of dark clouds, flames licking blue and black around the edges.

From the darkness, it shifted, waved and formed a man wearing all dark colors.

Eyes widening, Angel took a step back, the frightened gaze of Cordelia peering over his shoulder.

"Wesley?"

*

"I take it you've found out the surprise."

It was Wesley, but different. Clean shaven, hair a trifle shorter than they' d last seen him. No glasses. His tone and manner, the way he carried himself as he stepped down to Earth, was different. He seemed cocky, proper. It almost reminded Angel of that man he had met years before, Giles' friend Ethan Rayne. Except where an eternal boyishness had been, there was a fierce clamor of boastfulness and power in its place.

This was wrong.

"And look at you. Where has Angel gone? The savior?" Wesley walked over, smooth and fluid in his movements, face to face with Angel. He flicked the collar of Angel's duster disdainfully, walking around him and Cordelia in a small circle, eyes scrutinizing. Checking out a student's piece of work, only to give critical comments and no praise after the inspection. "What is this? What happened to you, Angel? Should I be sorry to say that this is the champion for the Powers?"

There was gleeful malice in Wesley's eyes, and Angel knew it wasn't him.

"Who are you?" Angel asked, eyes narrowing. Cordy moved forward but Angel held her back, shaking his head.

"I am what I am. I'm your technical support, to put it in layman's terms. You've gone and made a mess out of things, haven't you?" Wesley shrugged, arms crossing.

Taking this in, Angel paused for a moment. Then, the sarcastic tone creeping into his voice, he said with a mock yawn, "Already bored. Were you trying to get to a point anytime soon?"

"Angel here doesn't have too much patience," Cordelia said with a small grin, jerking a thumb at him. Her smile was soon replaced by a scowl, eyes angry. "I don't either. What the hell is going on?"

"You've figured it out, the two of you. Although much credit goes to Angel, despite the cheating bonus he had at this game. As you'll soon find out though, I consider myself to be a sore loser, just so you both know in advanced."

"This game?" Angel's expression darkened and he pointed at the orange glow of fire in other streets. "You call people dying a game?"

"Don't take it out on the messenger. You should take it out on yourself, old boy. It's your fault."

Fingers clenching hard on the material of Angel's duster, Cordelia resisted the urge to pummel Wesley, even if it wasn't him really. But damn, the feeling was strong. "How is it his fault?"

"He knows what's wrong. He just doesn't want to admit that he made a mistake," Wesley told her, an eyebrow raised. "Isn't that right, Angel?"

Angel shook his head slowly, eyes still focused on Wesley. "I stepped through a portal."

"Close, but no cigar. Actually, your actions caused this world to form, so any bloodshed is your fault. But then again, you're used to all the past guilt, so adding a little more wouldn't hurt, now would it?" Wesley was smiling quite evilly now, and it took all that Angel had, in his weak state, not to smack that grin off his face.

"Think hard, Angel. Think really, really hard." No response again, leading Wesley to tilt his head in amusement. "All right. I'll give you a clue."

The vision slammed into Angel, reverberating into Cordelia. Wesley raised his hand, and soon a bright white light began to glow, illuminating them both from the inside, eyes white until everything faded to the color of stars.

*

You were in the way, Angel. You. Champion. Warrior. Wretch of an ensouled vampire sticking your nose where it doesn't belong. Your seer, Cordelia, your love, your flame? Do you call someone who's responsible for the death of thousands a savior? If so, then I consider you to be less intelligent than I perceived you to be before. Let us move on then.

Her vision steered you and your friends to the hideaway amongst the sewers. The Temsik demons. Do you remember them? Your savagery? How you tore up a band of brothers - my brothers? Saving your precious friends, I've no doubt. And how, just as the meek would fall, your fingers pressed against the leader-my older brother, my krathkarr- the dark skinned friend of yours pleaded for help to save that slip of a girl. And that you did. You left them all there to die.

You were wrong. That was your mistake.

Did you know that you were two point oh six three seconds from stopping all of this? You were so very close to snapping his neck, killing him instantly, but you chose to drop him to save Fred, that girl? If you hadn't, and my brother was dead, she would have dislodged a worn wooden plank from her side near the wall and slammed it into the chest of her attacker.

You could have. You did not.

Sometimes I wonder as I watched you fall, watched you struggle, if this was what you intended to do. That all along, you wished to be human. You wished to be with Buffy. You wished for the friendship and acceptance despite your appearance, despite who you were amongst your peers. Because that's all you had to live for in this world. In your city, in Los Angeles, the mask of humanity was in place, the aura of mystery, and you were content. You wanted to know if despite all that, could you be liked? Could you be cared for? Your makeshift family cared for you in the best possible way they could. Cordelia loved you, Connor was yours, and everything was well.

You were happy. We wanted to make you suffer.

My brother lived, battered, half dead. He returned to me, and we all formed a plan. Wolfram and Hart, that group of detestable lawyers would further it, for it was written that your fate would be twisted and broken.

As you were.

Hatched from your insecurities, mingled with the faint traces of dreams, wishes by your peers. The verbs 'twisted' and 'broken' are two of the most interesting in your vocabulary. I sought to expand on them in your regard. The puzzle pieces fit into place quite seamlessly. Disfigured from a car crash, your 'true love' no longer feeling affection for you. That was amusing. But add the other extras, the fringe benefits, and you were set for a long and harsh eternity.

You went on. You lived. You suffered.

We were pleased.

Then she came along.

Cordelia Chase, the tool of destruction, the seer who sent you on your final mission. The girl you met again, and you were not supposed to. Memories of two years of blissful hell went awry, because of her. Yet she was so solid a construct in this dimension created out of your memories, that it was unable to erase her.

Through eternity, through dimensions, you loved her.

We raged.

Obstructions were thrown at every turn. The more you broke down- Buffy sleeping with Spike, the doctor's inability to fix your wounds, the visions debilitating your brain-we grew ever more content. But time and time again, she foiled it, damned it, took you in her arms and loved you.

Apparently, nothing is stronger than the love of one so connected with the Powers that Be.

Even after turning her three hundred and sixty degrees, a dark side, reckless and wild, you loved it. You hungered for it, like a wolf for its prey.

We tried again. Amplified, tweaked, and as time went by, it grew harder to control you.

But then, you've always been hard to control.

*

The demon, for that was what he was really, grew angrier at every intake of breath. Shifting form as it spoke, quickly becoming the wrinkly and scaly, dark green demon. Eyes sealed, burned shut, arms remained crossed. No matter that it could not see, for it could, greater than Angel. It was horrible and all seeing, and Angel, shaken, could not turn away.

"You messed up. My life seeped through the cracks. Being restricted from entering the apartment. Vampire rules." Angel nodded, understanding. "The reflection in the mirror changing. The Sunnydale newspaper article."

The beginning came to him clearly now, soft worn photographs dancing in his eyes. How he'd left for the mission, to kill those demons. Coming home, Cordelia and Connor sleeping. Then, the dream of him losing her, being alone on the street. From that, he woke into the brand of madness, thinking everything before that, his real life, had been a dream. Now he knew it wasn 't.

Eyes lowered to Cordelia who stood riveted, hazel brimming with tears of frustration and doubt.

"Kissing you." He sighed, turning away from her, to the demon again. "Brought it all back. Because I loved her."

Shrugging, the Temsik demon nodded. "The article of your past acquaintances shifted to what really occurred." He gestured a claw around. "This world was born from your memories, people how you knew them. But you loved Buffy, and you hated Spike, for example, so we changed that.

"Faith of 1998. Spike of 2001. Buffy of 2002. Your mind filled in the blanks, besides the information gathered to contrast: Spike for example. Somewhat good, your best friend. Something you didn't expect."

"Buffy's friends. Xander, Willow-"

"Unnecessary and gone. The more players, the more complicated. You see. Everything went wrong because of you. With your wretched lot, you accepted your horrible fate. But that girl got your mind stirred up again, and you started to feel again. To wish, hope, dream.maybe even love. Individualism complicates things. You were no longer an empty shell. No strength, barely functioning, face disfigured and bitter that your girlfriend didn't care for you anymore," the demon told Angel.

A pointed claw waved at him. "You were the cause of her distance, your own isolation. You pushed her out, and like a normal human girl, she moved on. You could've had a better life, tried to do things but instead you caused your own misery. People have died; others have lived because of your foolishness. Do you think you can add those souls on your conscience? Or would you finally end it all, to save quite possibly the world, and your own damned soul?

"In short, Angelus, you are your own destruction."

".End it all?" Angel echoed, staring down at the floor. He looked up once more. "And everything will return to the way it was before this happened?"

"Everything. Including her, without you."

Angel looked to his left, suddenly seeing Cordelia chained. The darkness had crept up to her, dark gray tinged smoke hardening around her wrists, becoming solid, and bounding her. She had stepped forward towards him but was violently pulled back, chains bound, but not connected to a wall, merely fading into nothingness, arms raised and glaring.

"Angel!" Cordy shouted, struggling against her manacles. "Don't listen to him! He's lying. He won't change anything back when you die!"

"I would never. What have I to gain from ruling this pitiful version of the world?" The demon appeared to take an interest with his nails, a human trait. "I'm not allowed to go back on that. They won't let me."

"They?"

"The Powers That Be. While I don't work for them, they keep everything in order. This that was written. 'The champion shall die in order to fulfill his cause, by saving those from a wretched fate'."

Taking a deep breath- feeling the air travel down into his lungs, savoring it, air that he needed- Angel's head canted in Cordy's direction. "I'll have to take that chance."

He glanced at the demon that merely waved a claw flippantly in response. After this, Angel turned and moved to Cordy. She raised her hand, wrist still bound by the manacle, but smoky chain extending long enough. Trembling fingers touched his cheek, caressing it. Upon her touch, scars faded, skin became smooth, face aligned perfectly in place.

"Oh God, Angel," Cordelia sniffed, feeling his strong hand clamp on her fingers.

"Tell the others I'm all right." Angel cleared his throat, searching for the right words. His eyes roamed the curve of her neck, memories of kissing that same one so.long ago. No.not long.had that really happened. His mind felt so jumbled, torn and confusing.

"Take care of Connor for me."

Her body almost shuddered, eyes wide. She remembered holding the soft, cute baby in her arms, watching him giggle. Remembered sleeping with Angel, Connor between them, hazy thoughts filled with chipmunks on ice. The panic and worry in Angel's eyes and heart when something threatened Connor's safety. The sparkling smile and jovial laugh when Angel raised his son high above, talking nonsense words and praising him.

He was her breaking point, and at the sudden realization that yes, he could leave her permanently, made her break down. Tears stinging, Cordy tried to keep herself from shaking. "No," she told him, but referring to the task at hand, not Connor. She knew that he knew what she meant.

This was it, wasn't it? He really was going to do it.

His hand came up, caressing her face as he kissed her tenderly, long.hard. He could feel a tingling sensation however, not out of love. Scars reappeared, features shifted, distortion faded into place as he kissed her. It kind of reminded him about the movie 'The Mummy', when the bad guy kissed the girl, flesh decaying.

Only not that 'eww', he could imagine her murmuring, half asleep. Her head resting against his shoulder, they had watched that movie together, falling asleep curled up against each other.

It seemed so long ago. But how much time had passed when they were like this? Were those two years real, or had it just been a week?

He pulled away from her, back to the wounded human being .he had become.

She wanted to hate him, right then, for doing this. But while her body screamed to be free, her heart thumped in her chest furiously from longing. Cordelia struggled against her chains, voice hoarse and nearly gone from the sadness building in her heart. "Angel."

Angel turned to the demon, everything almost in slow motion.

"Just remember. This'll hurt you a lot more than it does me," the demon said sarcastically. In his now raised claw, a gun cocked.

After all the battles, wounds, and tension, there was merely a simple gun.

The shot went off, bullet flying through the air and hammering into Angel's chest.

Blood flowed, eyes widened.

And then, Cordelia's world fell apart.

"NO!" she screamed, just as Angel staggered, clutching the fresh, alarming wound on his stomach before collapsing.

She shouted his name over and over until her throat was raw, face streaky, a look of pure pain and desolation. This was just NOT happening. A part of her grew cold, dead inside by looking at him on the floor, face twisted in pain and anguish. Glancing to the assailant- gone, shadows remained- Cordy pulled free, manacles fading away to nothingness.

"No. Oh God, no. No, you can't. Angel. Angel, listen to me. Angel. Angel, please wake up. You can't- You can't leave me here. No. Angel. Wake up, Angel. Wake up!"

She threw herself upon him, holding the jacket into place as pressure to stop the bleeding. He gasped for air, dark eyes staring wildly. In the light they looked almost gray. He choked out something, faintly feeling Cordelia's frantic hands on his face. She ran her fingers through his hair, enjoying the length, but missing the shortness too.

"Angel, please. Stay awake, okay? I'm gonna get you out of here," his girlfriend told him, gently taking his arm. She peered out into the darkness of the Los Angeles street, knowing Wesley's apartment was nearly a block away. Perhaps they could try to.get there. Before anything-

"It's just a gut wound. Come on big boy. You've been impaled before," Cordelia teased, trying to instill some calmness in Angel. Her work went to no avail though, because he was already pretty quiet, staring down with an occasional wince. Her thoughts filled with past events, Wesley getting shot.he'd been worse off, staring blankly. Gunn, his friends Rondell and George had taken an ambulance to the teen shelter because of the zombie cops. But even though they'd been delayed, Wes made it out okay.

Angel nodded sluggishly. "Okay."

They walked.

*

"Open up Wes! OPEN THE DAMN FRICKIN' DOOR!"

"Cordelia?"

"IT'S CORDY! OPEN UP THE DOOR! I NEED TO-

The door swung open, a less than miffed Wesley behind it.

"-COME IN!"

"Must you continue yelling?" Wesley asked, a raised eyebrow. His eyes focused on her, glasses removed. She looked haggard, hair messy and face streaky. In her arms was the thin form of Angel, head bowed and a painful wince on his disfigured face. Her arms supported him, one of his own arms draped across her shoulder. Hand keeping her jacket in place on Angel's stomach, Cordelia applied pressure to a gut wound.

The blood dripped onto the floor.

"He's been shot," Cordelia explained, pushing past Wesley into his apartment. She helped Angel over to the couch, letting him lie back on it. Angel groaned, teeth clenched, bullet burning into his stomach.

Unsure of how to begin his realization, Wesley moved quickly into the kitchen. He disappeared for half a minute, hurriedly coming back to her with a wet rag. "Here. Put this on the wound."

She nodded thankfully, removing her jacket. There was a hole blown into Angel's thin sweatshirt, blood pouring out. Pressing the rag there, Cordelia stroked the side of Angel's face, murmuring words of encouragement.

"Cordelia, I have something. To tell you. I would've told you earlier, but you were not at the Hotel. You see, this reality-"

"Isn't real. I know." Her eyes lifted to Wesley's, who looked mildly surprised. "This isn't the way it's supposed to be. Angel's not a vamp, I'm a big slut here, and you're not book-ish.yadda yadda. Think you can, oh I don't know, CALL AN AMBULANCE!?!"

"You knew?" Wesley asked, taking a step back. "How long ago did you-"

"WESLEY. I hope you realize that Angel happens to be HUMAN, which means there's a possibility he could DIE if you go on with your philosophical THEORIES," Cordelia snapped, angrily shaking a lock of hair away from her face. "In fact, give me the phone if you can't do it yourself."

"I don't have a phone." After getting a look of pure "Huh?" from Cordelia, Wesley continued, "Phone bill. Expensive. I.cut corners and use the pay phone."

"Which is."

"Five blocks from here."

"You've GOT to be KIDDING me."

"Apparently in this world I do not run a crime fighting agency, hence my low income!" Wesley responded, going over to the table near Angel's couch. He leaned over and dug into his leather bag, searching for his medical tools. "We can't take him to the hospital. What if they find something through his blood? He is a seer, after all."

"Cord.Cord." Angel murmured, eyes fluttering.

"Stay with me Angel. Just stay with me," Cordelia instructed, fingertips gingerly touching his hairline.

Wesley moved to Cordelia side, opening the medical bag. "It's in his stomach?"

"Yeah huh." She eyed the wicked looking appliances inside, while Wesley put on a pair of plastic gloves. "Reality check Wes: Angel is not some demon that you can fiddle around his insides."

Angel's voice was low, as he coughed and looked over at Wesley. "Let him do what he. can."

"Faith. FAITH," Wesley called while ripping a larger hole in Angel's shirt. Cordelia looked confused, but soon Faith came into view, adjusting the zipper of her pants.

"Wesley-" Faith paused, hand resting against the doorway of Wesley's room. She surveyed the scene, then came immediately over to them after seeing the sight of blood. "Shit. What happened?"

"I got shot," Angel deadpanned, eyes half open.

"Damn," Faith breathed, kneeling by Angel as well. He looked up at her, trying to smile but it just didn't come off right. "911 sounds like a good idea right now."

"Wesley doesn't have a phone."

"You're kidding me."

"He's even cheap in THIS reality."

"Figures."

Wesley cleared his throat, moving the clutched triceps instrument to Angel's wound. "If you do happen to notice, we have a gun shot victim here. Can you save your yammering for afterwards, please?!"

"Touchy," Faith murmured, hand cupping Cordelia's elbow. "I think we better leave the professional up to this, C."

Cordelia opened her mouth to say something, but instead remained silent. She nodded, pulling away from Angel's side. Faith gently nudged her into the small kitchen area, making her sit at the table there.

"Look. I'm gonna go call 911. Phone's a few blocks down, but I'll run," Faith said, giving a slight wink. She moved to the front door, and after pulling her jacket on and the door slamming shut, she was gone.

And all Cordelia could do was wait for a miracle.

Continue on...