The voices had gone away again, leaving her alone in the dark room. She wasn't sure how long ago that had been, or how much time she'd spent in the pitch black. Time seemed not to move here.
Fred waved a hand in front of her face, sensing the movement but unable to see her wriggling fingers. No trace of light penetrated the gloom to guide her. She had never known darkness this complete, not even in her cave in Pylea. There, though she'd always been alone (safer…had to hide from the monsters), there had always been moonlight…shining illumination that played off the smooth, worn edges of stone and let her see the way. Here, there was nothing.
Fred brought her fingers close, trying to see them. It startled her when they touched her face, and she'd seen nothing. Nothing at all. Her fingers moved and she felt wetness on her cheeks. Tears? Had she been crying?
Yes, yes, that was right. She had cried when they took her. No…she had cried out when they took her. She'd known she shouldn't go outside because there were monsters that wanted to hurt them (get back here, cow!) but she remembered how much she had missed the sun while she was lying in the cold in the dark, surrounded by her work…the impossible figures that danced in her head so hard (so loud that) she had to write, to write and get it all out because maybe if she could get it all out she could look at it all at once and it would tell her (the way home) how to get out, and then she could go back to her world, the world with no monsters where she could go out in the day time and not be afraid of (Help! Angel! Wesley, Cordelia I didn't see them they grabbed me and put me, OH, they put me back in the dark and I can't see the) monsters, the monsters talking outside the door that weren't really monsters, they're people (human, humans who are so evil and) who want something awful (Darla, the baby, the baby, oh God, what is it they want) to happen and they put her back in the dark and there was no light and it did things to her it made her tremble and fear and forget (the prophecy and) things she tried to remember that were coming (into this world) out of the dark crawling where she couldn't see them crawling-slipping, gnashing teeth biting, eat the world eat us all, take us into the void and out in the light where it was not dark the voices (monsters) came back and "Anything out of this one?" The monster…no, the man said, the man said, the one with the gun who had told her ("Make one sound and I'll kill you. And your friends will come anyway because they won't know it's too late.") what to do and the OTHER, the other ("Not unless you count talking to herself. The broad is totally deranged, if you ask me.") said something and she couldn't hear because someone was whispering to her there in the dark and she tried to listen to the monsters ("No one's asking you. What about the other one?") had another one? Another girl another monster another ("The demon? It's not going anywhere.") prisoner? The monster ("Good. Keep it that way. Anything goes wrong tonight and Morgan will have you skinned alive.") went away and the voices were gone again and she had to understand she had to (focus and) get out of here but she couldn't understand it was all in her head and she couldn't get it out if she could just get it out, she could maybe find a way out of the dark out, out of the cave of the dark and back (home) into the light.
Fred rose slowly, her hands tentatively reaching out in front of her, feeling for obstacles. The sandals on her feet made scuffing noises as she shuffled along the floor until she came to the wall. She reached it, ran her hands along it, felt it cool beneath her fingers. Slick and smooth. Unsteady, blind, Fred fumbled in her pocket with her other hand. Found the black magic marker she'd stuck there earlier, as everyone hurriedly packed to flee the Hyperion. She hadn't known at the time why she took it; it had simply been an instinctive action…a small, harmless regression that made her feel better. Now, she stretched up as high as she could reach and started writing words in the dark.
~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~
As daylight waned, shadows snuck slowly out from the tall buildings that had sheltered them from the sun. Like slicks of oil, the shadows spread in ever widening pools, stealthily claiming the city. Cordelia watched from between the slats of the warehouse window as one shade tentatively spilled out from beneath the awning of a hardware store, then began creeping toward her across the street. The store itself was closed, as were most of the businesses that still kept shop in this district. There were more abandoned buildings than occupied ones, and all were steadily falling prey to any and all varieties of human and non-human lowlifes.
A lazy breeze swept trash along the empty street, and Cordelia felt its fetid breath on her cheeks. The very air stank of decline. There was a bad vibe out there, out in the city. Something evil was there waiting for night to come. And as darkness approached, Cordelia could feel the something gathering just beyond her sight, waiting for some indefinable moment. For the cover from which to strike at them. She shivered; she suddenly had a bad feeling that none of the plans that were being formulated behind her now were going to make any difference.
Cordelia had wanted to help…had needed to do something. But her displacement hindered any assistance she might have given. Information that may have helped the process two years ago was useless now, and there were new situations of which she had no knowledge. As a result, Cordelia had been gently but firmly shunted aside when the team met up with Gunn's "crew".
From the window, Cordelia snorted. The assorted group of thugs that had met them here in response to Gunn's call was a motley crew, at best. Each bore some sort of wicked-looking, home-fashioned weapon, and they all sported hard eyes and rough edges. Grouped together, they looked like they'd collectively walked out of a scene from every stereotypical "hood" movie that had ever been released.
She almost felt a twinge of guilt at her eagerness to label them as dangerous hoodlums, but something about the way Angel and Wesley interacted with them caused her to wonder if her hasty judgment was really that far from the truth. Angel watched them carefully. He'd adopted a deceptively relaxed posture, but his eyes followed each movement of the newcomers. Without actually withdrawing from the conversation entirely, he'd faded back into the shadows, letting Gunn do most of the talking. At Angel's side, arms crossed, Wesley hadn't spoken at all. From where Cordelia stood she could see only the vague outline of his body and the occasional quick gleam of light reflecting off his glasses as he turned his head to follow the movement of one or more of the people he was so clearly suspicious of. Even Gunn seemed edgy around them, and they were supposedly his friends.
Apprehension gripped Cordelia even more tightly as she realized that whatever they were up against must be big and bad enough to be considered such a dangerous enemy. Fearsome enough that it caused them all to call a truce in the war of bad blood between them. As she watched these strangers - all of them - try to come up with a way to infiltrate Wolfram and Hart, the apprehension chilled and slithered down to rest in a cold, hard ball of fear in her stomach.
~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~
As the freighter from slip thirteen ponderously pulled away from the dock and headed out into the harbor, a living creature twisted and writhed in Cordelia's gut. She could feel it munching on some organ or another, expanding inside her as it grew like some kind of ill-tempered, parasitic fetus. She imagined the little creature - Impatience Monster, she'd decided to call it - screeching in frustration and petulantly worrying its sharp, serrated teeth on her spine. It had taken little nips at her here and there as they loaded the Lister Demons into the back of the moving truck, but when they'd arrived at the dock only to find another freighter loading up merely a stone's throw away from the Quintessa, the Impatience Monster had gone nuts.
The surface of the other freighter swarmed with deckhands and dock workers, scurrying to and fro, securing lines and battening down the hatches, or whatever it was that deck hands did. The Quintessa - having been "convinced" to get a head start - must have finished early on because it sat quiet, ready to go. The other ship, though, apparently couldn't leave until every crate and sack stuffed full of goods in L.A. had been brought aboard. There would have been no way to sneak the Listers onto the Quintessa without them being spotted by the humans mere yards away, and so they'd had to wait for the other vessel to leave.
Now, as the freighter finally drew distant, adrenaline gave the Impatience Monster a good, swift kick in its jagged little teeth.
On the bench seat next to Cordelia, behind the wheel, Doyle also felt frustration gnawing away at him. Impatience and...something else. Ever since the shared vision that morning there had been a bad feeling in his gut that told him something was wrong. He intensely didn't want to think about what it might all mean, but he'd had nothing else to do while they sat here waiting. Now, watching the other freighter pull out of the harbor, Doyle felt relief and foreboding at war with one another inside him. There was movement on the other side of Cordelia as Angel pulled the gray blanket more tightly over his head, making certain that all patches of exposed skin were covered. "All right, let's go," he said, and threw open his door. He jumped down, and it was jarring to Doyle to see his friend standing outside the truck, separated only by a thin layer of cloth from the fatal daylight. It was a very vulnerable position for the vampire, and abruptly all Doyle could think about was how vulnerable they all were, really, if any part of this plan didn't go off the way it was supposed to. Troubled, trying to shake off the sudden thoughts of death on his mind, Doyle opened his own door and slid out, sensing Cordelia right behind him. They met Angel at the back of the truck.
Doyle lifted the catch on the sliding door and pushed, feeling it give way beneath his hands and rattle up into the tracks with a loud noise. From the darkness within the cargo area, the Listers blinked at the sudden brightness, peering out hesitantly until Doyle offered a hand to the first. He helped the girl down as Angel laid out the plan, speaking to the Elder when he jumped out of his own accord. "I'll go first and make sure everything's ready. You follow me single file. Cordelia and Doyle, bring up the rear. And remember, keep your eyes open."
As Angel turned and headed briskly for the Quintessa, the Elder spaced his people so that each followed a few yards behind the one before. When the last had gone, the elder fell in line. Cordelia kept watch as Doyle secured the latch on the truck's back door, her knuckles white on the crossbow that she held with both hands. Her eyes darted everywhere, searching for the attack she knew was coming. The only question was, would it come before they were ready? At her feet was the weapons bag she'd kept so close the whole ride over.
Doyle was all for that…you could never have too many weapons against the Scourge, in his opinion. Fatalistically, though, he doubted their small arsenal would do much to protect them.
Still plagued by the disquieting sense of doom, Doyle was anxious to get this over with. He grabbed the bag at Cordelia's feet and started across the dock. Caught off guard, Cordelia quickly scurried after him, shifting the crossbow to her left hand and plucking at the strap on his shoulder as he carried the bag toward the ramp. "I can get that," she said anxiously.
Doyle shifted the bag a little, surprised at how heavy it was but determined not to stumble in front of Cordelia. "It's all right, I've got it already. Let's go."
"No, really…I can handle it," she protested, keeping in step with him as he started up the ramp to the deck. "Seriously. Doyle. Hello? Little deaf Irish man. I like having the bag. It…I don't know, empowers me, or something. I really think you should…"
She trailed off, and Doyle stopped as she realized she had fallen behind. He turned. Cordelia had come to an abrupt halt once they'd reached the deck, and now she looked around with a peculiar half-smile. "What?" he asked. "What is it?"
Cordelia's expression was difficult to classify. Odd. Fond, but sad. "This is where you asked me out."
If there was one single thing that might've been able to distract Doyle from the thought of all the horrible things the Scourge could do to them, this was surely it. Arrested, all plans forgotten, he walked back to her. "Yeah?"
Cordelia looked around, remembering. Reliving the worry and happiness and utter horror and loss of that night. She should have known that coming to this ship again would bring the past to life for her. "We were waiting for you. Everything was ready to go, but we were all nervous because the kid ran off, and you went after him and hadn't come back yet."
Doyle watched her go back, watched her remember events that hadn't happened yet. He knew he should feel unsettled, but he was too busy marveling at the knowledge that at some point in his life he would actually have the nerve to reveal his feelings for Cordelia. Entranced, he stepped closer. "An' what did you say?"
Cordelia looked a little sheepish. "Well, actually, it was sort of my idea for you to ask me."
"Aha," Doyle grinned, somehow not surprised. He was still curious, though. "An' was this before or after ya found out I was half demon?"
"After. I found out right before you got back," she said. Then she shot him a stern glare. "From the Listers," she emphasized.
Despite the pointed reminder about the secret he'd kept from her, the grin didn't leave Doyle's face. After. She'd wanted him to ask her out after learning he wasn't entirely human. His Cordelia. The 1999, even more tactless and materially attached Cordelia. The same one he'd thought he didn't have a chance with. Wonders never ceased. "Oh yeah," he replied, "because you've been such a fountain of sharin' since ya got here."
Even though the jab was light, limited to the good-natured banter they often engaged in, it drained the teasing expression from Cordelia's face. It was replaced by sadness, as if the reminder of why she was here depressed her. It catapulted her back into the here and now, and all of her worries and fears came rushing back. Serious again, Cordelia shook off a past that she hoped to undo and held out her free hand. "The bag, Doyle."
On the heels of his seemingly innocent jibe about not sharing information, her repeated demands for the bag finally achieved "suspicious" status in his brain. "What is it with you an' this bag?"
Never a good liar, Cordelia was slow with a response. "I just…feel safer if I'm carrying it," she finally said. It's true enough, she rationalized, even if it's not technically the whole truth…
Doyle didn't believe her. He shook his head, trying to figure it out. "What's in here?" he finally asked, hefting the bag down from his shoulder and reaching for the zipper.
Cordelia reacted quickly, snatching the bag away from her confused friend. Unfortunately, he'd already gotten hold of the zipper by the time she grabbed the bag away, and the contents fell out onto the dock between them with the clanging of heavy metal on wood. Doyle's eyes were immediately drawn to the ancient-looking glove that had fallen out and tumbled off the lethal pile of weapons. Well…the word "glove" was an understatement. "Cannon" might be a better one. Because although he could see how the device would fit over a person's arm, the wide muzzle at the firing end revealed the mechanism's true function. The design was simple and effective, the steel worked smooth, its shine dulled over centuries. The metal exterior was pitted and scarred from use, and still it somehow looked exotic and dangerous. Next to the more modern array of weapons that had fallen out of the bag, the gauntlet was older by far and infinitely more mysterious. He recognized it in an instant; after all, he'd seen it only the day before on the arm of the demon that had started all of this. Eyes wide, Doyle looked up at Cordelia for an explanation. "What's this?"
"It's uh…a meat pounding thing," Cordelia said. She made ridiculous little punching gestures.
Doyle blinked. Looked back at the device. "You pound meat, Cordelia, you don't kick-box it. I know what it is. Where'd it come from?"
Cordelia sighed in exasperation, throwing her hands up. "If you knew what it was, then why did you ask?"
Doyle took her by the arms, looked her in the eyes. "Where'd it come from, Cordy?"
She looked away, uncharacteristically avoiding his eyes. "The gauntlet fairy?" When the Irishman simply continued to stare at her, she sighed again and dropped the act, pushing away from him. "From the Time Keeper, okay? Come on. What, do you think you can order them from Amazon dot com? I told you, he was waiting for me back at the offices. I managed to get it away from him in the scuffle, and that's why he took off."
"An' were ya ever gonna tell us you had it?" Doyle asked, incredulous that she would keep such a thing a secret.
"Yes!" Cordelia fired back. "I was going to tell you…just as soon as we were done, here. But this is more important right now."
Doyle's brow wrinkled in confusion. "But…this is your way home," he struggled with the concept, not understanding. "What could be so important here that you'd risk not goin' home fer?"
There was a beat, and it finally hit him. When Cordelia met his eyes again, he knew. There was guilt and sorrow and regret on her face that she couldn't hide, and he knew. It hit him like a blow, and he staggered back a step, wishing there were a nice, comfy chair to collapse into. Or a pool of Scotch. Blood thundered in his ears, which he thought was sort of odd since his heart suddenly felt like it was beating erratically. He felt Cordelia's hand on his arm, felt her concern, and he looked into her eyes again. Searched for the truth. "I'm dead, aren't I?" he asked. "In your time, I'm dead."
Cordelia swallowed, forcing herself to return his gaze. She took a deep, hitching breath and exhaled. Not trusting herself to speak, she nodded. Doyle's blue eyes darkened, his expression turned grim. He finally exhaled, and she realized he'd been holding his breath. "I knew," he said softly. "Somehow I think I knew. From after the vision. I mean, why would they need you ta have the visions if I were still around, ya know?" He shook his head; Cordelia watched as he half-turned away from her and went to the railing, looking down without seeing. "I knew I had ta be gone. I just didn't know fer sure if I was…I guess I was hopin'…"
Cordelia joined him at the rail, impassioned. "Hope, Doyle," she urged. "Don't give up. It's not going to happen this time."
He didn't look at her; his head bowed beneath the weight of a future without him in it. She covered one of the hands on the railing with both of her own, trying to make him see. "Listen to me, Doyle. It won't happen. I'm not going to let it."
Something in her words caught his attention, and he finally turned his head toward her. Again he sought the answer in her eyes. "Today? Am I the life you wanted to save today, Cordelia? Is that why you changed the plan?"
"Yes," Cordelia admitted, "and it'll work! Come on, Doyle! I know what's going to happen. I can avoid it! We've got more than a shot, here."
"But you're not the only wild card," Doyle countered. "Don't forget about the Time Keeper. He's already surprised ya once. He's tryin' his damndest to make sure things go the way they did the first time."
Cordelia bent down and scooped the gauntlet from the deck, brandishing it at Doyle as proof. "Yeah, and between the two of us, which one leaves with the shiny toys, and which one keeps running away with new holes, huh?"
Doyle nearly smiled, even as he shook his head at her arrogance. "An' what if it can't be changed, did ya think about that at all?" Cordelia's confident expression wavered, and he could see that she had. He pressed on anyway. "What if there really is such a thing as destiny, and no matter what ya do, ya can't change it? What if I'm just meant ta die today?"
Cordelia was quiet for a moment, but not because she didn't know how to answer the question. She simply wanted her words to have the maximum impact on him. She leaned in close, felt the heat from his body and the instinctive reaction to her proximity as she looked him squarely in the eyes. "If your death is pre-destined, then why is the Time Keeper so desperate to stop me from changing things?"
Stunned, Doyle realized she had a point. It wasn't easy to shake off the shroud of doom that cloaked him, but he knew she was right. Since the Time Keeper was trying so hard to keep the timeline unaltered, then that meant things could be changed. His death could be averted. He turned completely away from the railing, tremulous hope blossoming within him. "Well then, what the hell're we doin' standin' around out here?" he asked.
Cordelia's smile in response was blinding and beautiful, causing his heart to lurch. The feeling of hope grew stronger, and they quickly bent to retrieve the weapons, tossing them haphazardly back into the bag in their renewed urgency. Cordelia let Doyle take it this time, saving the crossbow for herself. She kept her eyes on the dock behind them as they headed for the hatch, seeing nothing. For the first time since Angel and Doyle had agreed to help her try to change the past, Cordelia felt like they actually had a chance. They were going to make it. They were really going to do it.
She felt that way right up until they went through the hatch into the cargo hold and found the Scourge waiting for them.
~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~
For the second time in twenty four hours, Cordelia leaned against the passenger's side door of Angel's car and watched the city streak by as the world ended around her. Last night, she knew, it had only felt that way in light of her discovery of Doyle's death. Tonight, of course, the actual end of the world was a distinct possibility.
There'd been too many people and too many weapons to fit into one vehicle, so the group Cordelia had begun to refer to as the Lost Boys piled into a dark van and squealed out of the warehouse parking lot. Wesley and Gunn, their brief confrontation forgotten in the face of the violence they would surely confront together tonight, hurried after the van in Gunn's truck. Cordelia had slid into the passenger seat of Angel's GTO and pretended not to notice the vampire looking at her. He'd persisted, however, and - apparently closer to her own personal breaking point than she'd thought she was - she'd finally snapped. "What?" she demanded, glaring at him.
Angel had stood outside the car, the driver's side door unopened in front of him. "I'm not sure I want you to come," he'd said.
Despite her fear and uncertainty at what lay ahead, Cordelia had been stung. Seeing her hurt, Angel was quick to clarify. "I just mean…what we're going into. It could be dangerous. And you didn't ask for any of this. You're not really part of it."
And even though she'd known what he meant, that had hurt, too. It was a reminder that she was out of place, here. She was Cordelia, but not theirs. Angel was her friend, but he was different from the one she'd always known. But she couldn't get back to the life she knew. And if she didn't belong here, then where? "I'm going," she said with finality.
Angel appeared uncertain. "I just don't know that I can guarantee your safety, Cordelia. We're not really sure what we're up against."
Cordelia was droll. "Angel, if I rolled my eyes any harder they'll pop out of my skull. We're up against the same thing we're always up against," she said, looking straight ahead out through the windshield once more. "The complete and total annihilation of life as we know it. Again." With that, Cordelia had crossed her arms; as far as she was concerned, the conversation was over.
Now they were nearing their objective. Ahead of them, she could see the taillights of Gunn's truck flash as he braked behind the van across the street from the law offices of Wolfram and Hart. Despite her brave words earlier, Cordelia felt dread clutch at her again when she looked upon the towering building. She just had this awful feeling that everything was about to go completely wrong.
~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~
The cargo hold resonated with sudden, deafening silence. Cordelia's ears rang with it as the blood rushed from her extremities, shocking her numb with cold. Next to her, Doyle inhaled sharply and skidded to a stop, running into her as he caught sight of the uniformed demons. Cordelia fought for balance as Doyle stiffened, and she ended up slightly behind him, her shoulder pressed into his.
There were at least thirty of the Scourge in the hold, though only a dozen occupied the catwalk with Doyle and Cordelia. Angel was on his knees on the walk, facing the hatch they had just come through. His head was tilted up by the hand of the Scourge Leader, his pale neck was exposed to the long, wicked-looking blade the leader held there. It would be more than enough to sever his head, and that was just one thing vampires couldn't quite bounce back from. Recognizing his precarious position, Angel stayed very still.
Most of the fanatical demons were down on the lower level, where the Listers had been herded like cattle into a large group. The half-demons looked up at the new arrivals on the catwalk with varying degrees of terror, helplessness, and bitter loss of hope. The mass betrayal on their faces cut through Cordelia like a knife, shredding her heart. She'd done this. She'd done this to them. If she'd left things well enough alone, all of these people would be safe right now. Her desire to save Doyle had doomed them all to death, and that knowledge ripped through her mercilessly.
Her dark eyes were tortured when she looked up at the Time Keeper, standing beside the leader of the Scourge. The magnificently horned demon had the grace to look ashamed of the ultimate result of his actions, but it was clear whose side he was on. Still, he felt the need to say something. "I had no choice," he said. "Things must happen as they were meant to."
Cordelia's voice was hard, "And you really think that's what's gonna happen, here? Wake up. You've brought the Scourge here to slaughter these people. They'll all die, and they weren't supposed to. How is that protecting your precious timeline?"
The Time Keeper averted his eyes, unable to meet her burning, embittered gaze, and felt the unfamiliar sensation of shame welling up inside him. It was with dismay that he realized it was long past the time when he should have handed over his duty to his successor. He'd been in his position too long, and now his longevity and the amount of time he'd spent around mortals was working against him. He should have felt nothing but the overwhelming directive to keep the timeline untouched and pristine. It should have precluded everything else. Instead, here he was obsessing over the guilt he felt; he regretted that he'd had to force this situation.
Next to him, the Scourge leader was triumphant. "You are beaten," he said to Cordelia. "Lower your weapon."
Cordelia swallowed, her grip tighter than ever on the crossbow in her left hand. Though she knew nothing she did now would save them, she was reluctant to part with the weapon. Weapon. Wait…wait a second. The weapons… The weapons bag. It was still slung over Doyle's shoulder, and it hung against his back. He'd frozen after their collision, and his shoulder slightly obscured the right side of her torso. A jolt of hope shot through her. Affecting a bravado she didn't feel, she spoke boldly. "I'm at a disadvantage, not stupid. I drop this crossbow and you kill us all." Next to her, she felt Doyle tense when he felt her hand against his back, and she pressed lightly, hoping he'd catch on to what she hoped to do without giving anything away. She was relieved when he carefully didn't look at her, relaxing against her a moment later in silent understanding of her plan. She slid her hand down the cool expanse of his leather jacket until she felt the rougher material of the duffel bag.
"You're dead no matter what you do," the leader replied.
"Oh yeah?" Cordelia asked, "Then why should I surrender? I could take at least one of you pigskin, nazi freaks with me." As she talked, her fumbling fingers finally found the zipper and slowly drew it toward her, hoping her voice would cover the quiet but unmistakable rasp.
Kneeling on the floor, Angel's eyes narrowed. He'd picked up on the stalling tone in Cordelia's voice, and he watched her acutely. The Scourge Leader - confident that his victory was already assured - wasn't apt to notice, but from his vantage point the vampire could see that one of Cordelia's hands wasn't accounted for. In fact, it was totally blocked from view by Doyle's left arm. Angel's gaze flicked to the Irishman; Doyle stood perfectly still, carefully giving nothing away. Over his shoulder was a dark strap, and suddenly Angel remembered the weapons bag that Cordelia had brought along. That must be what Doyle had, and Cordelia must be reaching for it now, out of view of the enemy. His eyes shot back to Cordelia, and her expression confirmed his guess. Her meaningful look told him to get ready, and he tensed.
Behind Doyle's back, Cordelia fished her arm into the bag and quickly located the gauntlet. Luckily, it was resting so that the opening faced toward her, and she slid her arm into it. The cool metal embraced her arm, and her fingers reached for and found the buttons on the underside of the handle bar down at the bottom. She settled her grip comfortably and took hold.
The leader appeared unconcerned by her suggestion. "You can certainly try," he said. "It would no doubt be an amusing diversion before the final glory." With that, he gestured regally and Cordelia followed the movement up to the ceiling of the hold. A hatch slid slowly back from its docking station, revealing a sliver of bright light that pierced the gloom of the interior. The sliver soon grew into a square of sunlight, shining radiantly for a moment before it was blocked out by a large, dark object. The mysterious object hovered momentarily above the deck before descending into the hold. As it sank into the darkness, throwing off the sunlight that had glinted from its faceted surface, Cordelia was seized by horror. It was the beacon.
If just being on this ship was enough to enable her to vividly remember the events of two years ago, seeing the beacon – the device that had threatened agonizing death for all of them, and had claimed Doyle so horribly – slammed her right back into the moment. After everything she'd seen since being displaced, this final image made her forget who she was. Made her forget her own time. For right now, this moment, she was simply Cordelia. She was on the Quintessa, and Doyle was going to die. They were all going to die. She had to stop it.
The descending beacon had drawn the rapturous gazes of the Scourge and, in the midst of her revulsion, Cordelia saw her chance. With a pointless, regretful thought toward the crossbow in her left hand – she was right handed, and therefore there was a very real possibility that her shot would miss its intended target – Cordelia ducked out from behind Doyle and fired.
At the same moment, Angel snapped his head back and felt his skull connect solidly with bone. Unfortunately, his proximity to the leader denied him any real inertia, so the damage was unlikely to be disabling. Nevertheless, it proved to be a distraction as the leader hissed in pain, and Angel ducked away from the blade. He flung himself to the floor and rolled, hoping it would take him away from the enraged demon quickly enough to avoid getting stabbed. It was a fortuitous bit of luck that his roll propelled him directly into the legs of the Time Keeper, causing the demon to topple like a felled tree.
As Cordelia swung her other arm out into view, Doyle threw off the weapons bag and lunged forward into the bedlam that erupted. The demon nearest him was the unfortunate recipient of Cordelia's shot; in her attempt to ensure the demon was hit she'd aimed for center mass, and the bolt had caught him just under the third rib on his left side. Doyle used the demon's surprise and pain to his advantage, knocking an uppercut into the screaming demon that sent him staggering back to the rail. There, inertia carried him over and he fell to the bottom of the hold with a final-sounding thud.
Cordelia's mind raced. They were severely outnumbered against the Scourge. She'd managed to take them by surprise, but that advantage was diminishing with every moment and she thought furiously to find a way out of this. The Listers were terrified and weaponless…no help there. Worse, the Time Keeper was even now pushing himself to his feet, eyes everywhere as he sought her out. The determination in his manner scattered her thoughts. His mission now was threefold. He had to correct his original mistake of displacing Cordelia, ensure that events here happened as they were meant to, and – now – to regain his gauntlet. The last thought jogged her memory…something he'd said to her…something about the device she now bore on her arm.
"It will always find its way back to the Time Keeper", he'd said. Meaning, she reasoned it out, that he was sure to get it back at some point, no matter what she did. So why was he so anxious to retrieve it right here, right now? It could only be because he was worried about the damage she could do before he got it back. The damage she could do…
In her moment of clarity, Cordelia remembered the first, devastating blasts at the Hyperion. Remembered the splintered staircase, and the energy that had crackled and burned through the spot she'd been standing in. Below, panicked cries rose from the Listers and Cordelia rushed to the railing. At the opening sounds of violence, the score of Scourge demons had backed together, their weapons trained, keeping their captives well contained to a corner of the hold. Several craned their necks to look up at the catwalk, trying to see what was happening. Above them all, the beacon finally came to the end of its play and hovered there, swaying ominously.
All right, Cordelia thought, time to do a little damage. Blocking out the chaos behind her as Angel and Doyle took the good fight to the Scourge, Cordelia braced herself and fired.
She was utterly unprepared for the results. It had looked so easy when the Time Keeper did it. He simply raised the gauntlet and fired. And when he missed each time, he just fired again, and again. It was everything she'd been able to do to avoid his relentless discharging of the gauntlet. So she'd pretty much assumed it would be just as effortless for her…but she'd been wrong. Since she was wearing it rather than running from it this time, she was able to notice the way the gauntlet seemed to glow when she pressed the first button inside. Little green lights, previously unnoticed, lit up alongside the device as it emitted a high-pitched whine. Cordelia associated it with the startup sounds of an ancient, massive computer. And then came the draining.
If she'd thought she went cold before, when the shock of stumbling into the trap the Scourge had set for them numbed her, she was mistaken. Now she felt as if all of the warmth from her body was literally being drawn out of her. The feeling was akin to emerging from a nice, warm bed only to be plunged into dark, sub-zero temperature water, fathoms beneath the ice-locked surface. She shivered violently as every heat-producing action taking place in her body suddenly stopped working for her, and started working for the gauntlet. Cell division, metabolism, electrical brain activity, everything was drained to provide the power necessary for the gauntlet's blast. Her heart beat for it.
When it came it was like an explosion. It rocked her back and – sapped of energy – Cordelia fell, gasping for air. Her Scourge targets fared even worse. In their fervent desire to gun down the half-demons they considered abominations, they had separated themselves cleanly from the huddled mass of Listers. Cordelia's blast didn't capture them all, but it was hellfire and death for those it did. The surviving members of the "superior race" screamed in terror and pain as their fellows suddenly became living, breathing incendiary devices. A moment later they were not so much with the living and breathing part, as they burst into flames and exploded, showering charred flesh en flambé down upon the survivors. The few remaining Scourge on the lower level scattered.
Lying on the catwalk above, Cordelia's extremities tingled as feeling began to return to her. She was still chilled, but the sensation was fading, her body recovering. To her right she could see the leader squaring off with Angel, the vampire in game face, even as the fanatically devoted reinforcements left on the catwalk rushed to help him. Somewhere out of her line of sight she thought she heard Doyle calling her name, but before she could even summon the energy to respond something was grabbing her, picking her up as if she were a rag doll. It was the Time Keeper.
He looked at her, trying to keep his expression impassive as she struggled weakly with him. He knew all too well what it felt like when the gauntlet took the power it needed from its bearer but, of course, he had more life energy than the girl. She was, after all, only human. While he could – if pressed, as he had been earlier – fire the gauntlet over a half a dozen times in succession, a human would be lucky if it could manage half that. Unfortunately for her and her friend, he couldn't allow this mortal to find that out. He knew what he had to do, but he felt nothing but dismay and pity when she pushed futilely at his chest. Despite herself, tears welled in her eyes and spilled over. "No," she cried pathetically, pushing at him with muscles that were regaining their strength far too slowly to do her any good, "don't you touch him. Don't you do it…I'll kill you, I swear to God."
Doing his best to ignore her pathetic cries, he grimly propped her back up against the railing. The destruction she'd caused was a flaming backdrop behind her as she sat on the catwalk, and he felt another moment's sympathy for her. She'd tried…no one could fault her that. In a way, he had developed a great deal of respect for her; she'd proven a worthy adversary. He vowed to himself that he would return her to her own time before the Scourge could take any revenge on her. He turned his attention to the gauntlet.
Suddenly there was a biting, unbearable agony in his shoulder. He recoiled, whirled in pain.
Doyle fell back a little as the enraged demon swung toward him, nearly tripping over the weapons bag he'd left there at the moment of their coordinated surprise attack. The Time Keeper's eyes burned into him, accusing; they took in the blood on the blade of the axe in his hands. Doyle defensively raised the weapon higher, prepared to use it again to protect Cordelia. And as they faced off he felt that feeling again…that sense of doom. He'd felt it earlier…as if there were a clock somewhere, counting down with each tick toward some unknown but unstoppable event. It was a pressure. An eye, searching for him. Only now he knew what it wanted. In that moment he felt that the eye was going to find him, soon. And when it saw him the pressure would become too much and…
The Time Keeper snarled, emitting a roar, and came at him. Doyle stood his ground for about half a second before realizing he might be protective, but he wasn't stupid, and ran. After all, if the Time Keeper was chasing him, he couldn't hurt Cordelia, right? And one look at the demon was enough to tell him that he wasn't going to be defeated by a vertically challenged Irishman. I mean come on, he thought, darting away, the guy's gotta have two hundred pounds on me. And the horns…well Jesus, look at the horns!
If there hadn't been death and fire and blood and screaming all around, it would almost have been comical as Doyle scampered away from the enraged demon that pursued him. He ran along the catwalk and slammed right into the knot of Scourge demons surrounding Angel. In their frenzy, they didn't even notice Doyle. Hopping up to see over their heads as he ran around them, he spotted Angel in the center, fighting three demons at once. Another charged from behind him, but the vampire anticipated the move and used the demon's own momentum, tossing him at two others who were bowled over. "Angel, man," Doyle called, hopping up ridiculously to keep his friend in sight and still manage to somehow move away from the threat behind him. "The Time Keeper, uh…"
"Little busy," Angel bit back in response, grunting as he took a fist to the stomach. Luckily, he had no air to lose, and bounded back up to deliver a skull-cracking head butt to the demon in front of him.
"Right," Doyle breathed, risking a glance behind him to check his pursuer's progress. Alarmed, he watched as the scaled demon tossed members of the Scourge off the catwalk left and right as he beat a path through. Doyle quickly ran the other way, skirting the fight as more demons fell to their deaths.
At the other end of the catwalk, near the stairs, Cordelia had nearly recovered. Her breathing was no longer labored, and her mind had cleared. The tears were stains on her cheeks, forgotten. It was time to end this.
She watched as Doyle led the Time Keeper on a merry chase around the steadily dwindling throng of demons that Angel was fighting, and she crawled over to the weapons bag. By the time they headed back her way she had regained her feet and stood ready, sword in one hand, gauntlet on the other. Doyle thundered up, nearly running into her for the second time in ten minutes. He skidded to a halt next to her, looking nervously from the Time Keeper to the hatch behind them. He felt the urge to grab the sword from Cordelia's hands and defend her, but he also wanted very much to just grab Cordelia and run, just get out of here. Get away from this Energizer Demon. But as the Time Keeper slowed his approach to warily stop before them, Cordelia made his decision for him. "Get down there," she said, indicating the lower level of the cargo hold with a sideways jerk of her head. "Get them out."
Doyle was torn. "But what about…"
"Do it," Cordelia ordered, never taking her eyes off the Time Keeper, who stared straight back at her. "I've got this." With one last, worried look over his shoulder, Doyle took the stairs down two at a time, leaving her alone with the demon. They stared at each other for a long moment. "So," Cordelia said at last, "I guess you haven't filled your quota for getting your ass kicked today." She raised her sword. "Let me help you with that."
~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~
Everything had gone smoothly so far. With a little skill – and a lot of luck – they'd managed to get inside the building. Correctly assuming that the heaviest security would be centered around the traditional entrances and the tunnel access, Angel had broken in via the roof on his own and then came down to let the others in. Still, despite the care they took to avoid detection, and despite the presence of the security guard that had briefly gotten in their way, it seemed almost too easy.
The hallways were atypically deserted, even for this hour, and Angel looked around nervously as Wesley, Gunn and Cordelia gathered around in a huddle. Gunn's weapon-toting friends were spread out, eyes in all directions. "All right," the vampire said, "we don't know where they might be holding Fred. Or Darla. But if there's one person in this place who knows what's going on, it'd be Lilah."
"So her office, then?" Gunn asked, and Angel nodded.
"We've got to start somewhere." He paused though, before turning to lead the way, and looked at Cordelia. Then at them all. "Guys, this may be the last chance to get out. I can't ask you to follow me knowing there's a good chance they know we're coming. Anyone who wants to leave now, can."
He looked around at his small circle of friends, receiving nervous glances in response, but also grim determination and support. He nodded a final time, then led the way.
They crept through the hallways, disturbed again by the lack of activity. Surely there should have been more than just one guard to dispatch? Adding to the surrealism were the fully-lit corridors. It was hard to sneak around with 52-Watt Sylvania Whites burning down on you. The building didn't seem to have gone into "night" mode, indicating that business hours had not ended. So where was everyone?
And even on guard, even suspecting a trap, they were unprepared for the ambush when it came.