The Time Keeper approached the old military weapons facility and was not fooled by its deceptive, derelict façade. There was no electricity, nor were there any obvious signs of life. Dirt and grime had built up over the years of abandonment…trash and other undesirable things had been left behind by the few humans who would live in such conditions. And of those who could, not many were seen again alive.
They'd been taken by the non-humans. The demons.
Each demon race had a reason as to why their kind occupied the realm of man. Some had fled their own dimensions. Some had been banished and had nowhere else to go. Some had been here since the dawning of life on the planet, and more demons came every day. But by and large most species preferred to keep to the shadows. In exchange for whatever it was they sought here, they generally let the humans worry about the state of the world while they moved under cover of darkness and secrecy. Creator help the human race, should the demon population of Earth ever choose as a whole to throw off its cloak of invisibility, combine their efforts and confront man. Having ruled the world until then, unaware of the true dangers lurking in the shadows, humans would stand little chance.
And that, the Time Keeper reflected, was exactly what the Scourge hoped to do.
As the only one of his kind, the Time Keeper had no real allegiances, save to his duty. If pressed to choose between the human race and demons, he thought he'd probably go with mankind for the very simple reason that they tended to meddle with his timeline less. Yes, his timeline, damnit.
There were thousands – hundreds of thousands, actually – of demon sects out there, and a fair amount of them had at one time or another tried to interfere with the original course of events for their own, personal gain. Humans, on the other hand - having been around for only a fraction of the time as the scattered demon races - had had less of an opportunity to try their hands at time travel. And had, therefore, annoyed him less.
And really, that was the crux of it: not who was good and who was evil, or who deserved to win the silent war. Such things were none of his concern. Humans could scarcely consider themselves the loftiest of species, anyway. To the Time Keeper, they had existed for only a moment in an endless sea of time. They were but a grain of sand on the beach. And what had they done with their existence so far? They had brought war upon one another. Disease, famine, murder and pollution. Carrot Top. Evil resided among humans just as surely as it ran rampant through the demon races.
Then again…there were also those who sought to bring peace, find cures and end famines. There were those who went out into the madness every night to try and protect those who could not protect themselves. So perhaps there was some hope for them after all.
He could find out, of course. He could look into the future as easily as he could look into the present or the past. What was a fixed impossibility for others was for him a fluid slipstream, easily navigated. And he would be untruthful in saying that he'd never been tempted.
For countless cycles of the rotation of the universe…for untold – what did they call them now? Ah yes, years – he had watched worlds form, watched them be torn apart. He'd seen civilizations rise and fall. He'd witnessed wonders and atrocities beyond the scope of anything that humans could conceive. He possessed more memories alone than mankind would likely ever amass, and sometimes he wondered where it was all going. He wondered what the point was, if one existed. Was it any wonder, with as much as he had seen, that part of him wanted to skip ahead and see how it all turned out?
But to do so would be a violation of his own principles, and so he did not. Besides, his time was coming to an end, at last. It was nearly time to step aside, make way for the next Time Keeper.
He'd been the regulator for a long time. The constant vigilance, the overwhelming responsibility had worn him down. He was not as sure of his convictions as he once was, and that was dangerous. He could feel himself losing the objectivity he needed to retain for his position. Better that he pass the responsibility to his successor soon, than to remain in control for much longer.
But before he could, there were several…complications…that must be remedied. And that was where the Scourge came in. As a race he could find nothing redeemable about them. Their sole purpose appeared to consist only of eradicating mixed-bloods from all of the realms. A noble cause only in their own prejudiced, narrow minds.
The Time Keeper snorted. The Scourge Leader wouldn't know "noble" if it came up and field-kicked his head. The Time Keeper may have felt little one way or the other toward the scattered races, but he cared even less about the Scourge.
Unfortunately, recent events had left The Time Keeper no option but to seek out their fanatical leader. After navigating the seemingly deserted facility to reach the underground section, he found him right where he'd known he would be.
The Leader appraised the intruder silently for a moment, taking in the grand horns and iridescent scales that caught what little light there was and reflected it in little rainbows across the gray walls. Finally he waved off the four demon-shaped shadows the Time Keeper had picked up immediately after entering the building. The Time Keeper watched them go with no interest; he'd known they were following him from the beginning, and it mattered little. He returned the Leader's impassive stare.
The leader of the Scourge smiled coldly. "Time Keeper," he pronounced finally, causing a stir among his advisors. They stood on either side of the throne-like chair their ruler sat upon, watching curiously. The Leader went on. "Your kind has never before graced us, Regulator. Interesting that you should do so now, so near the end of your responsibilities."
Suddenly he leaned forward, an avid, evil gleam in his eyes. "Unless…unless you have finally chosen to help us. You are a pure-blood, and your control over time could aid our cause beyond compare."
The Time Keeper avoided the Leader's hungry gaze and shook his head, trying to keep his distaste from showing. "As you well know, my kind does not concern itself with petty wars and causes. I serve Time, and Time alone."
"But," he forestalled as the Scourge Leader began to speak, "I do have a situation that I wish to bring to your attention. A matter which has gotten out of hand and must be rectified. A matter that should interest you."
The Leader nodded his head slightly, silently indicating that he was listening.
The Time Keeper shoved down a slight twinge of guilt at what he was about to do. It couldn't be helped, he told himself. These Scourge were destined to do as he was about to direct them. They had the first time, before he'd been forced to interfere, and they must again.
"There is a group of half-demons fleeing you. Twenty or so Listers," he finally said.
The Leader sank back against his throne, disappointed. "Is that all? I am already aware of the half-breeds. We march for them tonight."
"Tonight will be too late," the Time Keeper responded. "By the time you get there they would be gone. They have found help, and very soon now they will board a freighter and escape you. You must get to them first."
The Scourge Leader narrowed his eyes suspiciously as his advisors whispered to each other. "What is your interest in this?" he wanted to know. "A moment ago you haughtily reminded me of your precious non-interference. How can you justify giving me this information?"
The Time Keeper adopted an appropriately grave demeanor. "The one helping them is seeking to disrupt the original course of events. My duty in this is clear." All right…time for a little ego stroking to get what I need… "Today is the day that your people are to unleash their power…to fulfill their destiny through the terrible power of the Beacon."
The Leader leaned forward again, pleasure and excitement propelling him practically out of his chair. "It is true," he said, "we have long planned its development, and it is now ready." He jerked his head in a decisive nod. "Give us the information. We will fulfill our destiny and none shall stop us."
The Time Keeper inclined his head…the faintest sketch of implied respect. "I will tell you all that you need know."
The Scourge Leader had begun to turn away to address his advisors, but abruptly he turned back to the Time Keeper. He was suddenly genial. "In return for this favor, we shall find your meddler of time, as well. It will pay in pain and death for attempting to save those who are destined to be crushed by the Scourge."
"No," the Time Keeper said firmly. "All must be as it was. Leave her to me."
~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~
It was approaching noon when Cordelia unlocked the door to the office. She, Doyle and Angel had split up a little over an hour before to take on their respective tasks, but with everything going on Cordelia had forgotten to take the weapons bag with her when she left to pick up the moving truck.
The white cargo truck waited out on the street now, engine ticking, for her to come out and get ready to transport the Lister demons. But first…the weapons bag.
If everything worked out the way she'd planned it, the Lister refugees would be gone to safety long before the Scourge came swooping in for the kill. If she could just remove the Listers from the equation, there would be no need for the Scourge to bring out their giant Christmas tree ornament of death, and Doyle wouldn't have to sacrifice himself to save them.
So. The plan was to get the Lister demons as far away from L.A. as possible, so that when the Scourge arrived their prey would have already escaped. There shouldn't even be any fighting. But with Doyle's life on the line, Cordelia wasn't going to take any chances. Hence the weapons.
She glanced at her watch as she bounced down the steps and made a beeline for the inner office. Angel should be putting the squeeze on the Harbor Master about now, she thought. Doyle should also have made first contact, and would be even now in a holding pattern, waiting for her. She quickened her pace, both excited and nervous over what they were attempting to do. Excited, because if they could pull this off, who knew what kind of future they'd be creating? It made her dizzy just to think about the possibilities. The case of nerves came from worrying about what would happen if they failed. What if time really couldn't be changed? What if certain things were just meant to happen?
If that were so, then she might have to watch Doyle die for the second time, and she didn't know if she could do that again.
Anxious to do everything in her power to prevent that, she rushed into Angel's office to retrieve the bag and didn't notice the Time Keeper's still form behind the doorway…until he raised his gauntlet to fire.
Cordelia wasn't quite sure whether she'd caught the movement in her peripheral vision or if she'd just suddenly sensed the presence behind her, but before she was even fully aware of the danger, instinct kicked in, and it kicked in hard.
Three years as a cheerleader had taught her the moves; nearly three more working for a vampire had honed her reflexes. Right now they both saved her as a blinding flash of heat and electricity spewed out from the muzzle of the gauntlet. Cordelia dropped, ducking under the blast into a protective roll that landed her on the floor behind the desk. She felt the rush of crackling static warmth as it arced through the spot she'd just been standing in, passing instead through empty air until it struck the elevator. The lift shook under the force of the stream; the cage rattled, clanging violently in its slot as the metal warped and twisted.
Belatedly, Cordelia realized she should have rolled the other way, toward the weapons bag on the couch. Instead she'd instinctively sought to put a barrier between herself and the lethal gauntlet. Remembering the shattered staircase at the Hyperion, however, she knew the desk would offer no protection. And now the demon was between her and the weapons.
Hoping to take him by surprise before he could recover enough to fire again, Cordelia jumped up from her crouch and tucked one shoulder down, rolling across the desk on her back. She landed firmly on her feet in front of the Time Keeper, who blinked in response to her charge. He brought the gauntlet up to fire again, and Cordelia moved in, using his own momentum to swing it up, safely away from her. Not expecting the bold move, the Time Keeper jerked the trigger, wasting another blast on the ceiling.
The Time Keeper faltered, cursed. He couldn't use the weapon function on his gauntlet; it would kill her. That in itself would disrupt the timeline irrevocably. He was trying his best to get things back on the proper course, but he'd just used up a lot of his energy on two useless shots, and she was still running around like a hopped-up gazelle, fleet and fast and completely unpredictable. Even now she was sprinting over to the couch, away from him. Deciding that the only advantages he had left (now that surprise was no longer on his side) were size and strength, he quickly followed her and knocked her onto the couch. To his surprise she didn't fight back, merely grappled with the duffel bag she'd fallen upon.
When he turned her over, he found out why.
With a yell Cordelia rammed the knife into the Time Keeper. She'd been lucky so far, but she knew if it came down to just the demon and herself, she'd lose if she didn't do something to seriously improve her chances. And so she went for his throat.
At the last moment, however, the demon saw her intent and threw his naked arm up to protect himself, and the blade sank deep into the scaly flesh above the gauntlet. He howled from the pain and yanked Cordelia from the couch, tossing her none-too-gently back toward the desk and away from the bag that he now realized was packed with weapons. Gritting his teeth and clamping one clawed hand over the hilt of the knife embedded in his arm, he pulled.
It came out with minimal additional pain – thank the Creator the damn thing wasn't serrated! – and he glared at the girl who was now watching him warily, keeping the desk between them. All right…surprise hadn't worked. Force hadn't worked. He had no desire to find out what else she was capable of. Maybe now would be a good time to try conversation.
The Time Keeper held out his hands in a non-threatening gesture. He'd seen humans do it plenty of times…it was to show that you bore no weapons and came in peace. It must have looked a little less reassuring when he did it, though, because the girl fearfully braced herself as if for another attack. It might have also had something to do with the fact that he still held the bloody knife.
Sighing, tossing the knife aside, he dropped his arms. "I don't mean you any harm," he said.
Cordelia had been edging as imperceptibly as she could toward the center drawer in Angel's desk, and now she started visibly at the demon's sudden use of English. She'd half thought until now that he couldn't even speak. Not in any language she'd understand, anyway. But now he'd startled her by taking the battle to another level, and she tried to shake it off, think of a way out of this. "Oh yeah? Tell that to the elevator."
The Time Keeper glanced at the ruined lift. "It wouldn't have done that to you," he said, and winced at how unbelievable the words would sound to her.
"Oh," Cordelia replied, voice dripping with sarcasm, "right. And I'm going to believe you because you've been so peaceful up until now. You're the Mother Theresa of all demons. Uh-huh. Except for the part where you demolished the Hyperion, sent me into the past, beat the crap out of Doyle, and killed our elevator."
She seemed to gain new confidence from reciting his litany of crimes and stared at him defiantly as if daring him to try and defend himself.
Not sure why he suddenly felt a little cowed by this human, he gave it his best shot. "None of this was meant to happen. You're not supposed to be here."
"Hello! You put me here!" Cordelia exclaimed.
The Time Keeper sighed. "Only because you interfered with my original target."
"Oh yes," Cordelia said. "And the fact that you were aiming at Angel makes it all better. If you think you can score brownie points with me because you were trying to kill my friend instead of me, you are beyond deluded."
"All of this is beside the point," the Time Keeper said, exasperated and annoyed with himself at this whole situation. "You cannot do what you are contemplating. The timeline must not be tampered with."
Cordelia's tone was icy. "So sayeth the guy doing the tampering."
"What was meant to be -"
"Shouldn't be changed. Yeah, so everyone keeps telling me," Cordelia snapped. "You know, maybe you've forgotten, but I'm pretty sure in the original timeline Angel didn't Quantum Leap back into an earlier version of himself. If it weren't for you, I wouldn't even be here right now. What's your excuse? I thought you guys were supposed to be all big on the guarding time, not messing with it."
The Time Keeper averted his gaze. He wanted to bridle with indignation at her accusation, but she was right. It threw him, because he was accustomed to being right. He'd always occupied the moral high ground, secure in the knowledge that his duty was important to the universe. But now he was the guilty one. Now he was the one in the wrong, and his own sense of pride and honor forced him to admit it. "There are…extenuating circumstances," he gritted out.
"Whatever it is that's got you selling out your own values and trying to kill an innocent guy," Cordelia said frankly, "is not worth it." She watched him silently for a moment, then took a stab. "Is it money? It was Wolfram and Hart, wasn't it? They paid you to kill Angel, is that it?"
This time the Time Keeper couldn't contain his outrage. "I would never betray my duty for such a low purpose!" he exploded. "Your money means nothing to me…only the most dire of circumstances could have pressured me into going against all I hold sacred."
Cordelia nodded, her suspicions confirmed, and grudging sympathy crept into her expression. "I thought not," she said. "What do they have on you?"
At his confused look, Cordelia explained. "Everywhere I could find information on you it said that you were this big Time Guru Guy. That you put your responsibility above everything else. So eventually it made me wonder…what could be more important than the most important thing there was to you? And all I can think of is that they've got this thing, whatever it is, because they know it's important to you. And now they're making you jump through hoops to get it back."
She shot him an Am I right, or am I right? look, and his expression confirmed her guess. "They did the same thing to us," she said by way of explanation. "The people…well, if you can call them people…at Wolfram and Hart are no stranger to pressuring people into doing what they want. They were able to get to Angel a couple weeks ago. I mean in two years they, well…you know. Anyway. They tortured me with these really painful visions to make him do what they wanted. So I know all about what they're capable of. What I don't know is what they have on you that's worth all of this."
The Time Keeper found her empathy…odd. Odd, but not entirely unwelcome. In a way, he was glad to know he was not the only victim of the evil trappings of the law firm. Though, obviously, the girl and the vampire had to have found some way out. She was still alive, after all.
Wishing he could find his own nice, neat little solution, he sighed and finally admitted to his problem. "There is only ever one of my kind," he started slowly. "It is the way of my species. Since the beginning of time there has been one Regulator, and it is our sole duty to keep time in its natural state. To defend it from those who would seek to change the past, and to correct such changes if they have been made. It is a heavier responsibility than you realize, in many ways. I cannot easily put into words how long each of us shoulders the duty…but it is a very, very long time. At the end of it we…replace ourselves with another."
Cordelia was confused. "Replace? But where does the replacement come from?"
The Time Keeper searched his vast memory for the right words, but no species he'd ever been in contact with had a basis of comparison against how his race survived. "We…are able to create our successor from…ourselves," he tried.
Cordelia's brow furrowed and she looked at him uncomprehendingly before it finally hit her. "You mean like a kid? Wolfram and Hart has your kid? No wonder you're willing to renege on your scruples!"
The Time Keeper winced at the reminder of what he'd done. "Not a child in the sense that you think of it," he said. "In fact, he is not a child at all. When we replace ourselves this way we endow upon the successor our own flesh. Our own memories. Even our own minds. In this way, every Time Keeper will posses the knowledge and memories that each previous Time Keeper did. In a way, it is like there is only one of us, ever, for all time."
Cordelia reasoned it out. "And somehow Wolfram and Hart got him. This 'other you' guy. Your kid, whatever. Why doesn't he just like…time warp himself out, or something?"
The Time Keeper checked his wound…the bleeding had slowed considerably. Still, he was feeling the cumulative effects from all of the fighting he'd done over the past few days, and he ached. His age was catching up with him in many ways; it was more vital than ever that he complete his mission and recover his successor. He grew weary.
"Ordinarily we do not permit any changes to the timeline, even for our own benefit. A life-threatening situation, however, would allow it, as our presence is necessary to maintain order. Unfortunately, my successor is unable to control time without this." He held up the arm that bore the gauntlet. "When there is only one of us the gauntlet will always find its way back to its rightful place, but as long as I am alive it will not go to him."
"So he's stuck there," Cordelia summarized. "And to get him out, you had to agree to kill Angel. When that didn't work, you were forced to try and switch him with a version of himself that could be more easily killed. The human Angel that you knew about, because you're the time guy, and you know everything that's ever happened." She nodded to herself as it all came together, but there were still questions. "But wouldn't that have left the Angel from my time back here, able to do the same thing I'm trying? I mean…he'd still be alive and a pain to Wolfram and Hart, just not right then."
Again the Time Keeper tried to find the right words to make her understand. "Time is not as most mortals perceive it. Humans have all these ideas about it…the string theory, alternate universes, paradoxes and the like. Really it's both simpler and more complex than you could imagine. Yes, the older version of himself would then be occupying this time…but if the younger version of himself should happen to die, so would he."
Cordelia tilted her head, feeling the first warning signs of a headache at this suddenly hypothetical conversation. "Because the younger version of himself would be dead, so there couldn't be an older version of himself?" she surmised.
"Yes and no," the demon said. "Here is where it is simpler. There is but one entity known as Angel. One you. It would be impossible to go around killing versions of people, mere moments in that person's life, without affecting the other moments as well."
"So…if the Angel of the past died, the Angel of the future would be gone, too? But then what happens to us? All of us who have memories of two more years' worth of Angel-memories? We don't just…forget, do we?"
"Of course not. You'd be adjusted. You, and the entire timeline. To fit the new course of events."
Oh yeah, that's definitely a headache coming on… But through the dull ache in her head she thought there was something very important in what he'd just told her, though she hadn't been able to reason it out, yet. Then suddenly another thought struck her, out of the blue. "Why didn't you just come to us?"
Now it was the demon's turn to be confused. "What?"
"It's what we do, hello? We help people with demon-related problems. And okay, sure, you're the actual demon in this case. But considering the issues we have with Wolfram and Hart, we'd have probably even given you a discount."
The Time Keeper simply stared at her, dumbfounded. It had never occurred to him to ask for help. Why should anyone help him? It was his affair, his problem. Here he was meddling unjustly in her life, trying to kill one of her friends, trying to prevent another from gaining the chance to live, and yet it seemed only natural to her to help him. He was astonished by the offer, and a niggling sense of shame wormed its way into him. Because her selflessness meant nothing. It had to mean nothing. No matter what had already happened, he still had his duty.
It is too late for that," he said gravely.
But Cordelia clearly liked the idea. "No it isn't," she shook her head, enthused. "Look, I can finish here today, then you can zap me back to my time, and we can go after Wolfram and Hart. Once I explain to the rest of the gang I know they'd help…"
As much to quash his own growing sense of guilt at what had to be done as to silence her, he interrupted, "It's too late. It is out of your hands."
Cordelia went still, warned by his tone. "What did you do?" she whispered.
"What I had to," he answered, feeling the tentative, fragile trust between them quickly slipping away.
"What did you do?" she demanded.
"I told the Scourge what they needed to know. Even now they are on their way to stop you."
"No!" Cordelia cried, seized by a deep, gut-wrenching pain. Loss, she realized. So this was what it felt like to lose him again. To lose to fate.
The Time Keeper tried to remain impassive as he watched her nearly double over, gasping, one hand clenched in a knuckle-whitening fist on the desk in front off her. He tried and failed. It was impossible to be unmoved by her obvious anguish, and guilt washed through him like a wave of salt over a wound, surprising him. It galvanized him to step forward…he didn't know how he could help her, his hands were tied, but he felt the urge to do something. And so he stepped toward her…
And right into the path of the letter opener she hurled at him. Too late he realized why one of her hands had been beyond his view: cornered, she'd surreptitiously snatched the impromptu weapon from a drawer in the desk between them. There was no time to avoid it – he'd been taken entirely by surprise – and it hit him in the chest. Her skill (or blind luck) turned the simple tool into a lethal missile, a blade that pierced the hide over his heart. He felt the sudden sliver of coolness like an icicle inside him, an obviously foreign object within the heat of his body. Fear and sudden desperation had lent force to her throw, and the letter opener went deep into his flesh.
The lancing pain rocked him back. Instinctively he grasped the hilt of the opener and tore it from him, garbled pain erupting from his throat in tandem with the sudden flow of blood from the wound. It ran down his body in a red flood, pooling into a growing puddle on the floor. This was bad. The rapid loss of blood was already affecting him, he could feel himself growing faint. A Time Keeper's body may live for thousands of years, but it is still a body that may be seriously injured. This wound compromised his efficiency, and would take time to heal. He had to finish this now.
Gritting his teeth in concentration, knowing this was his last, immediate chance, the Time Keeper raised the gauntlet for the third time. He felt the familiar drain within him as the device on his arm drew upon his own life energy, preparing to displace the hapless girl before him.
The only problem was, this girl was proving to be a lot less hapless than he'd have liked, and she clearly had other plans. She reached down again, and the Time Keeper flinched in anticipation of another sharp projectile even as he leveled the gauntlet to fire. He was hardly prepared, however, for the desk drawer that came hurdling at his head. Papers and miscellaneous office supplies rained out of it in a flurry, and then the corner of the drawer struck him in the face. Over the sound of the thud of the impact he felt bone crack beneath the inertia of the heavy wood, and he couldn't keep from staggering. Adrenaline kicked in, numbing the new pain in his face, and beyond it he felt the gauntlet discharge. He blinked furiously, trying to clear the red haze before his eyes. Trying to see if he'd hit her, or if she had somehow evaded him again.
Finally, his eyes cleared, and he could look. She was gone. There was nothing between him and the board-covered windows…nothing save a small pile of ash and charred wood. Among the debris were several blackened knobs – to the drawers, he realized. And a smooth length of wood that he recognized as one of the legs of the desk that had stood before him a moment ago intact. And that's when he realized he'd hit the desk. He'd displaced the desk, not the human, and this decimated rubble on the floor was all that was left of the desk three years in the future. Which meant that the girl…
The mace struck the right side of his head and he stumbled drunkenly under the blow. Careening to the left, he came up fast against the open doorway leading to the outer office; the wood splintered under the force of his impact. He looked up in time to see the girl coming at him again, trying to press the small advantage she had. He didn't hold it against her. She was right. He was the one who'd put her here. It was to be expected that she'd fight for herself and the one she was trying to save. But this had gone too far. It was time to end it.
Despite the combined aches and bruises and wounds he'd acquired over the past couple days, he launched himself away from the doorjamb with a speed and force that startled Cordelia. A moment later she was lifted off her feet, pressed back against the opposite wall, a horrible pressure on her throat. She wheezed, trying to inhale some much-needed air, and only then did she realize the demon had knocked it out of her. Finally her airway cleared when he let up a little, and she sucked in tiny, shallow breaths of oxygen. She kicked helplessly in his grasp, aiming for areas that she knew would incapacitate a human, but there was no effect that she could see from his face. Her right hand still held the handle of the mace, but she didn't have enough room or maneuverability to swing. She tried anyway, wrenching her hand around to try and gain freedom, succeeding only in dropping the weapon. Her fingers played against a lip of metal, suddenly, cool and alien to the touch. The gauntlet. Curling her fingers around it for leverage, Cordelia brought her knees up against the body holding her to the wall. Then, trying to ignore the ick factor, she made a fist with her other hand and plunged it into the wound in the demon's chest.
The Time Keeper screamed; there was no other word for it. It was an awful, pained howl that made her cringe. But it worked, because suddenly she could breathe deeply again, and the weight was off her. She dropped to the floor, free, feeling sick at the blood staining her hand. It was red and slick, and far too similar to a human's for her liking. And damnit, she'd had to. She could barely breathe like that. And she couldn't let him send her back yet. But as she wiped her hand on one denim-covered thigh, guilt rose in her throat like acid, like vomit. She felt sick. In a way, the Time Keeper was in the same kind of situation she was: someone had come along and messed with him, and now all he could do was defend himself and his kid, or whatever, the best he could. He hadn't wanted to hurt her, or anyone else. Just the way she hadn't wanted to hurt him. But she knew that if she couldn't defend herself well enough to get away, he'd send her back to her own time before she could finish. And she couldn't let that happen. And so she grimaced and wiped the blood from one hand, while the other…
The other clutched the gauntlet.
Eyes wild, Cordelia looked up sharply at the Time Keeper. The demon was again leaning against the cracked wood of the open doorway, panting. She didn't know much about his physiology, but she'd be willing to bet that gray wasn't his best color. In fact, the iridescence had nearly faded from his scales entirely. He clasped one clawed hand to his chest, trying to staunch the fresh flow of blood. Bottom line? He was not in good shape, and guilt gripped her again briefly before she angrily shook it off and stood, dragging the gauntlet up with her. Her own labored breathing sounded harsh in her ears as her mind raced. She fumbled with the strange device, fitting it over her hand. Had to do this…quick, before he recovered again. What the hell was he, a horned cockroach? Would nothing short of a thermonuclear explosion keep this guy down?
At the bottom of the inside of the gauntlet, near where the mechanics must be, Cordelia felt a handle…a sort of horizontal bar. It was too large to get her hand around completely, but it was enough to hold on to. On the underside of it, where her fingers rested, there were two inlaid buttons. On one side there were things that felt like dials, or switches, but before she could explore further the Time Keeper was pushing himself away from the doorway, looking up at her…and jerking to a halt. Cordelia hastily brought the gauntlet up to level on him, prepared to press buttons like crazy should he take another step, but he had frozen in place, his eyes wide and fixed on the device that swallowed her right arm nearly to the shoulder.
He's afraid of it, she realized. Letter openers and drawers and maces might injure him, but this thing can kill him, and he knows it. It was just the edge she needed. "All right listen, Timex," she said, adopting a reasonable tone, "I don't want to have to use this. You seem a decent enough demon, when you're not trying to kill my friends. But I'll do what I have to, and so help me if you come one step closer I'll find out exactly what this thing does do to flesh and bone."
Either she was pretty convincing, or he had even more reason to fear the gauntlet than she'd thought, because he very carefully responded to her promise by backing up a step, raising his arms again in that queer "non-threatening" posture that really made him look more like a menacing alien from a bad B movie, coiling to attack its helpless prey.
Well, I'm certainly not helpless now, Cordelia thought, tightening her grip.
The Time Keeper watched her warily, mindful of how easily the human could kill him right now, if she so chose. He wondered for a moment why she hadn't fired already – he was, after all, the biggest obstacle between her and the path she was determined to take – and then remembered her offer of help. If circumstances were different, if there weren't so much at stake for her right now, he felt sure that she'd be trying to help him. She certainly didn't seem to want to kill him. Maybe she wouldn't. Maybe if he stepped toward her, tried to take the gauntlet away from her, she wouldn't be able to find it within herself to fire upon him. He examined her, took in the hardness of her expression. Saw the grim resolve in her steely gaze.
Oh yeah. She'd fire.
There was no choice, then. He couldn't risk being killed, not yet. Not until he'd fixed this. He'd have to let her go for now and try to regain the gauntlet later. He lowered his arms – but slowly – and backed away. The human watched him shrewdly, assuring that he couldn't mount a last minute charge when she wasn't paying attention. As he stepped back she matched him, keeping a few yards between them as she advanced to the doorway between the offices.
Still holding the gauntlet level, Cordelia watched the Time Keeper turn reluctantly and go through the front door. On the other side, he'd undoubtedly have to descend into Angel's apartment to leave the building via the tunnels, since even in L.A. a huge, scaled demon with horns would probably be noticed by someone in broad daylight.
Nervous for a moment that he'd come back, even more nervous that he'd left so easily because there was some unknown other way he could get to her later, Cordelia didn't dare to lower the gauntlet immediately. When long minutes passed with no movement from beyond the front door, she relaxed minutely. She had no choice. As much as the bruises on her throat protested otherwise, the Time Keeper was not their biggest worry right now. The larger threat came in the form of the Scourge, who were even now on their way to stop her. To kill Doyle. She had to go.
Moving swiftly, Cordelia ran back to the weapons bag on the couch and stuffed the gauntlet into it, keeping the crossbow out for herself. She slung the bag over one shoulder, held the crossbow in one hand, ready to fire, and her keys in the other. Armed as such, she cautiously peered outside before venturing across to the truck. Seeing nothing, she ran.
~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~
As the sun reached its zenith and began to descend once again toward the far horizon, it cast thin rays of yellow gold into the safe-house through the cracks in the walls and around the edges of windows that had been painted black. So bright at its source, the light that shone in was quickly diffused by the murky room. Miniscule particles that danced in the brief luminosity quickly succumbed to the gloom of the interior, invisible in the dark. In the furthest shadows, far away from the possibility of curious glances from the outside world, the Lister demons waited in a holding pattern. They had fled here to avoid the Scourge, but all had known that it would only be a matter of time before the fanatical race found them, and they would have to leave again. At least this time there had been warning. If all went as the half-Brachen said, they'd be long gone before the Scourge arrived. There was even a boat waiting to take them to Briole, the sanctuary island that many others of their kind had found and settled. It all seemed too good to be true, especially since the bringer of this news – Doyle, he'd called himself – seemed an unlikely Promised One.
The elder chided himself at the judgment, looking around at the dilapidated structure of the old hotel his people hid within. His glance took in the mattresses on the floor, the clothesline running the length of the room, and he reminded himself that they themselves were more than they appeared to be. True, they'd imagined some sort of mythical superhero-type to be the one destined to save them from the Scourge…but if he existed, he'd never shown up. Doyle had. So perhaps the myths and legends were untrue…or perhaps Doyle was more than met the eye. Perhaps he was the Promised One and just didn't believe it. He'd stumbled over the word as if embarrassed.
Whatever his story was, however, the elder believed Doyle knew the danger they were in. There'd been a haunted look in his eyes when he spoke of the Scourge. And he had somehow known that Rieff would bolt and caught the boy before he could even leave the building. Surely that meant something. And now the troubled man who'd sworn in his own way to deliver them from evil leaned uneasily against the wall by the door. He was waiting, he'd said, for their transportation to the ship. He looked as nervous as the Listers felt, and the elder sympathized. For better or worse, they had put their faith in this man, this fellow half-demon, and now all they could do was hope.
From the doorway, Doyle felt the force of their faith and fought the urge to run from it. His own personal track record when it came to saving fellow half-demons from the purebreds intent on destroying them was far from stellar. In fact, when a group of his own kind approached him for help, he'd denied them. He'd turned them away out of fear and a sheer panic at his lack of understanding of what he'd just discovered he was. And when he found them dead later, after the first vision, something inside him had died. He felt later as if he'd been at a juncture, there. As if there'd been two separate paths he could have gone down, each one leading to a final version of himself. The path he'd chosen had been the one of fear, and it had led to this. For longer than he'd like to remember he'd floundered, losing himself in drink and gambling, trying to forget about that other path. Trying on some level to deny the truth of his own being and what he could have been if he'd had the guts. Trying to lose himself in depravity, but never entirely succeeding.
Because there were these visions. The Powers That Be had at some point decided that he either needed very much to be punished, or they actually thought he could still be redeemed. Or maybe it was a combination of both. In any case, the occasional rap on the brain was no more than he felt he deserved, but it had provided the perfect excuse to immerse himself in running away from what was left of his life. The path eventually became overgrown and slick, and as he slipped down it the temptations of the world clutched at him like weeds lining the way…dragging him down and entangling him until he'd nearly lost himself.
And then came Angel and Cordelia. A bona fide hero and a girl he'd love to be worthy of. Since they'd come into the picture, Doyle had surprised himself by putting some of his life back together. Laying off (most of) the gambling, and sobering up (mostly…hey, a guy's entitled to a couple drinks down at the pub every once in awhile, right?). More, he'd even begun to feel again as if he might have a real place in the world. He'd gotten to want to be more than he was. Now he was facing the same choice all over again. And while the Listers' faith in him was terrifying, while he was desperately afraid of betraying the confidence of his friends, this time he wanted to choose the right path.
Suddenly he heard a sound from the basement, and the bang jolted him out of his musings. Heavy footsteps ran up the stairs toward the basement door, causing the three Lister demons who'd been talking quietly there to scatter. Doyle braced himself for an attack, prepared to stand his ground…for all the good it would do anyone. If the Scourge was on the other side of that door, everyone in this room was already dead.
The door swung open, and when a tall figure in black emerged Doyle actually saw one of the Scourge. A moment later, when reality kicked in, he slumped back against the wall, one hand dramatically clutching at his heart. "Angel," he panted, nearly giddy from the unnecessary rush of adrenaline that continued to course through his veins, "you tryin' ta kill me?"
Angel glanced around the dim room. "Where's Cordelia?"
"Not here yet," Doyle said. "The ship ready?"
Angel nodded. "They're preparing to cast off now. Big Randy wasn't happy about leaving so early, but I convinced him to get over it."
Doyle glanced at Angel. The vampire's expression was matter-of-fact, but there was a wicked gleam in his eye that told Doyle how Big Randy had been 'convinced'.
A sudden thump at the door leading to the hallway caused Doyle's heart to leap back into his throat. All but a few of the Lister demons scurried into the shadows, leaving Angel and Doyle to face the new threat. There was another bang at the door, then a pause. Out in the hallway, there came an audible, exasperated sigh, and then a crash. Finally, the door opened to reveal a harassed-looking Cordelia standing on the other side, arms laden with a blanket and a crossbow. "Would it kill one of you to open the door?" She gestured to the bag of weapons she'd had to drop on the floor to free a hand for the door.
Doyle rushed forward as Angel turned behind him to reassure the Listers. He took the blanket from Cordelia. "What's this fer?"
Cordelia shifted the crossbow, picking up the weapons bag with her other hand, keeping it close. "For Angel. I don't want us to have to split up while he takes the tunnels back to the docks. We need to stay together."
There was an urgency in her voice, a hunted look in the way she stood that caught his attention. He scrutinized her, finally seeing the mottled bruising on her neck. Curiosity gave way to alarmed concern. "What happened? Are ya all right?"
Cordelia brushed the question aside with an angry nod. "I had to stop back at the office; the Time Keeper was there. We had a little disagreement."
Doyle turned her head gently with a light touch under her chin, inspecting the bruises as Angel came up to join them. "What happened?" the vampire asked.
Cordelia jerked her head away from Doyle's careful touch, impatient rather than annoyed as the Irishman repeated what she'd said about the Time Keeper. "An' he roughed her up, too," he added, managing to look indignant while still being concerned for her.
"Look, we don't have time for that,:" Cordelia said, stepping closer so the Listers wouldn't overhear them. "We've got bigger problems right now."
"What's happened?" Angel asked.
Cordelia kept her voice low. "The Time Keeper went to the Scourge. He told them what we're doing. We've got to go…now."