Disclaimers: Angel belongs to the WB and Joss Whedon, David Greenwalt & co. As this story is based on the classic movie 'Casablanca', I'll write a disclaimer that it doesn't belong to me either, but to the WB.
Rating: PG-13 (for language, violence) and definitely A/C.
Spoilers: Takes place after the Angel Season 3 ending cliffhanger.
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Part II
D.
A few alleyways down from Casablanca, two guards in gray uniforms stood outside a darkened door. They stood up straight, staring directly in front of them, their hands carrying a large machine gun. Above the door was a sign that read 'The Blue Parrot' and behind the door was another saloon. Only this one was closed for the night.
Beneath the saloon, in a dark, dingy cellar, was the demon, Quincy. He was seated, tied to a chair in the middle of the basement, his head slumped on his chest. As footsteps approached him from above, he peered up, revealing the multiple cuts and bruises on his face.
"Please," he croaked to the shadow that was steadily moving towards him. "Don't do this. For the love of this world, have mercy."
The shadow smirked. "Demon scum," she hissed, kicking him in the chest, succeeding in knocking him over. She knelt beside his prone form, her red hair falling into her face, effectively hiding it. "There's no mercy for monsters like you."
With delight, she observed Quincy whimper on the ground. "You'll be out of your misery soon enough," she promised.
"Then have it over with." the thin demon cried out.
"Not yet." she smiled.
"What are you waiting for?" the demon sobbed.
"For me," a voice behind the woman said. A figure stepped forward out of the shadows.
"It can't be," the red haired woman whispered in disbelief.
"Oh it is." Cordelia answered pertly, beginning to glow a bright white. The next instant, the room was flooded with a bright light and then Quincy only saw darkness.
When Quincy came to again, he found himself in a new place. It was warm, dry, and very comfortable. He was propped up in a wonderfully soft bed, complete with plush pillows and fuzzy blankets.
"Miss, you're too kind." he said weakly, as he saw his savior come in with a glass containing a blue liquid.
"It's alright," she replied with a smile. She handed him the glass and sat down gingerly on the edge of the bed.
"Ahh..." Quincy said with a satisfied smile as he quickly drank the contents of the glass. "Real stuff. Nobody makes these earls like they used to." He looked at her and began thanking her. "How can I repay you?" he asked.
Cordelia watched him carefully. "Tell me why the Resistance is after you."
"I don't know what you mean." But the demon was hanging his head.
Her voice became extra gentle. "If the Resistance had anything against you, they would have killed you right away," she pointed out. "They were saving you for questioning."
"Miss, I don't want to get you in trouble. This is dangerous business."
"Quincy," she began firmly, "I just stole a prisoner away from the Destroyer. This isn't the first time I've done it and it's not going to be the last. I'd say I'm in plenty of trouble already."
She could see that she was breaking his resolve. Shaking his head, he muttered to himself, "Bad times, these are. When pretty girls like you endanger themselves like this."
Cordelia had to smile, even if the sentiment was a little chauvinistic and out-of-date. "So you're going to tell me what the Resistance wanted to know."
He sighed. "It's about a death that will trigger the start of the war. I have information that I was hoping to share with a warrior."
"I already know about the war, the devastation it could cause. Tell me," Cordelia insisted. "Who's dying? Who's doing the killing?"
"A boy... very important to the Resistance. He will be committing the murder tonight, here in Paris. As to who he will kill, I cannot tell you." Quincy said. "But I can say that this will start a chain of events, one of which is the Prince of Darkness will descend on all of us, reaping mass destruction that we'll never recover from."
"So, I'm back at square one." she commented, disappointed. Cordelia watched the slight demon, sensing that he wasn't revealing everything. "Is that really all you know? Or only what you want to reveal?"
He hesitated. "I have told you everything you need to know."
"I see," she said slowly. "You'll be safe here," she told him. "Stay as long as you like." Getting up, she headed out the door.
"Miss Cordelia," Quincy called out to her as she was leaving. She turned around to face him. "You and the boy. You share an unbreakable bond."
Cordelia wrinkled her forehead. "How? What bond?"
"Just remember that." the demon told her. She puzzled over it for a moment before nodding and then leaving.
"Maybe you should have told her more." a voice said beside the demon. Quincy looked up to see Skip hovering over him with a worried expression on his face.
"So you're the one who sent her to me." Quincy replied.
"I want her to be more prepared. The Powers were ready to throw her in the lion's den without any warning."
"What else could I have told her? The reason why the Powers took her away from him that very day, that very minute? Even you didn't tell her the whole truth." Quincy reasoned.
"Luckily, she has a streak of nobility in her. Like him." Skip remarked, a little proudly.
"Not like him anymore. They've both become so different over the past year. Skip, I wonder if the Powers really know what they're doing."
Skip sighed. "Between you and me, I don't think the Powers had the faintest idea how to start handling this situation. Or how to deal with them, their feelings. It's never happened before."
"Are you sure? I thought for sure that Warrior and Seer from 1912 --."
"No." Skip cut in curtly. "That was never substantiated." He shook his head slowly, moving his upper torso to accomplish that. "On the other hand, Cordelia and Angel were about to declare their love for one another. Besides, it's been obvious that there was something between them for months now, and I'd venture to say even years although they themselves didn't have a clue."
"It's a messy business, separating two souls so attached to one another. A nice clean sever was the only way possible." Quincy looked at him closely. "You've already made up your mind on what you're going to do," he guessed. When Skip didn't respond, he stared at the exit that Cordelia had just walked through minutes ago. "I'll say one thing. I owe her a debt of gratitude tonight."
"Save it." Skip advised him. His jaw set a grim line as he thought about Cordelia and the task ahead of her. "Hope to the PTB that she'll get through this and be able to collect on it after tomorrow."
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E.
It was half past midnight and the night sky was clear, full of stars. The moon shone bright, providing a pale, bluish light on the Paris sidewalks.
Enclosed within one of these moonlit sidewalks was a large garden almost entirely covered in an array of damp lavender, forget-me-nots, and rosebushes. Standing peacefully on a small patch of grass was Cordelia, her feet bare, her eyes gazing upwards towards the sky.
Outwardly, she was looking tranquil. Inwardly, she was anything but.
Her mind began racing through her meeting with Angel that night. He had been so brusque with her, so hateful. This was something she had never expected to see from him, even though she was aware of the possibility that Angelus could resurface at a drop of a perfectly happy moment. That was the reason for all those private training sessions in the basement, after all.
Wasn't it?
God, that seemed like a lifetime ago.
Deep down, she thought she was prepared to deal with this. 'No,' she corrected herself. 'I was prepared to handle cruel, calculating Angelus. I was getting ready for a monster.'
She wasn't prepared to handle a cruel, hurtful Angel. Or a drunk one at that.
'Since when did you start drinking?' she demanded in her mind. She never thought that he would ever pick up that vice. 'Is it to escape your own brooding thoughts?' That would be a first for the normally angst-ridden vampire, knowing his predeliction for self-torment. However, judging from that night's episode, he seemed to be compounding his problem.
Maybe that was his reason.
She wanted to brush it aside. She wanted to ignore the sting and the incredible pain in her chest when she remembered those burning eyes and words that were meant to scorch and tear at her heart. But she had to return to 'Casablanca' and talk to Lorne again, which meant that she had to deal with it again. Or at least the possibility of having to dealing with him.
"I never signed up to do this." she said, looking at the moon. "I'm really needing that break now."
"So you talk to the lady on the moon too... makes for great company, doesn't she, when you're all alone." She didn't hear him approach her, but she would recognize that voice anytime, anyplace. "I should have figured I'd find you here," he added. "You always did like beautiful surroundings."
She looked at him coolly, as if she didn't know him. The sting of their earlier meeting still fresh in her mind.
"I've been tracking you all over the city." He stepped towards her, wanting to make amends. "I'm sorry, you tried to speak to me earlier. You tried to explain everything to me."
"You certainly get over being drunk quickly."
Angel's expression was remorseful, but he tried to make light of their conversation despite the edge in her voice. "The secret is to get plenty of blood." he said jokingly.
"Are you?" she questioned, as if expecting that he would go postal at any minute. "You seemed to be getting plenty of something else earlier." Her tone oozed with dripping disappointment.
"I'm sorry you had to see that." he apologized softly.
"That's a side that I never thought I'd see in you." she went on fiercely.
"I know." he replied helplessly. "I never thought I'd see it either." He shuffled his feet a bit on the moist grass and peered up at her hesitantly. "I'm ready to talk. And listen."
"And what if I don't want to talk about it now?" she retorted. "You made it quite clear tonight that we're not the same people we once were."
"I won't deny that I've changed and you've changed. But look at our world now, Cordy. It's different too."
"So now, it's back to Cordy..." Cordelia shot back. "I'll say our world is different," she remarked sadly. "I'm trying to stop a murder and you're not."
"A murder," he repeated. Her heart beat more rapidly as she sensed a tiny glimmer of interest in his voice. She wondered how long it had been since he had worked a case. "It's always the same old problems... What's the point anymore?"
Her heart dropped with a disappointing thud. "YOU are asking ME what the POINT IS?" What was wrong with him?
"That's right." Angel said, baring his teeth slightly. "The world I fought for is dying."
"And you're just letting it disappear." Cordelia stated, a cold fury in her voice. It couldn't be because of her.
Could it?
"Well, at least I'm not breaking my word." Angel bit back. She flinched. So, he was back to being bitter about her vow to stay with him until his shanshu. She desperately wanted to tell him that she had sincerely meant it. Still did, if only she could. "I never promised to save it."
"No," she told him calmly. "You're not going to continue putting this on me."
"Fine, then shall I point the finger to the son who hates me so much he believes that killing me is too good." Angel threw back bitterly.
She shook her head. "Don't blame this on Connor either. This is a choice you made all by yourself."
"That's right. All. By. Myself." he carefully enunciated those last three words.
"Is that your excuse for a coward's choice?" she challenged him. "How could you give up everything you worked so hard for?"
Angel gave her a bitter laugh. "How could you?"
"I didn't." Cordelia denied. "You wouldn't know, but every minute of every day I thought about what we used to fight for. About the good that we do, saving the world and all. About us. That's why I left..." She lowered her lashes to her feet. "... and then stayed away."
"And I thought you'd gotten side-tracked and run away with a rich, handsome producer."
Cordelia's head snapped back. He could be a real jerk sometimes. She glared at him, knowing how heartless the vampire in him could be... when he made up his mind to be that way.
"Is that supposed to be funny?" she queried furiously. "Look, I didn't come back because that was the best way for me to continue our work."
He looked at her mournfully. "Why didn't you contact me?" he asked, almost pleadingly. He looked so sad, lonely, standing in the middle of those beautiful rosebushes. Untouchable because of the thorns. In spite of her anger, she felt the strings of her heart being pulled.
"I wanted to," she admitted softly. "But the Powers insisted that I not talk to you or see you until... until my mission was complete."
"I didn't know where you were."
Such a simple statement. But what emotions it wrought.
Cordelia gazed unseeingly at the mass of crimson roses, sparkling with dew from the earlier rain showers. "I wasn't allowed to check up on you." she confessed. "I considered doing it anyway behind the Powers That Be's backs but then Skip was good enough to tell me about everything that had happened between you and Connor on the bluffs... after you had escaped." She looked at him, her eyes beseeching him to understand. "He wanted to assure me that you were alright."
"Well, isn't that noble of him?" Angel drawled sarcastically.
Cordelia became more sombre. "Do you think of that night?" she asked. Seeing the look on his face and realizing his answer, she hastily added, "often?"
"All the time." he answered, in the devastating way that only Angel could. The way that tore her heart.
Cordelia closed her eyes. "You were down there for so long. Trapped, all alone."
Angel's eyes became anguished as he recalled that time. "It was hard." he revealed, his voice so low he was almost whispering. "It felt like an eternity. I kept wondering what I had done to deserve that. The hate that I saw in his eyes when he ambushed me and then threw me in that box... He wanted me to live in agony forever, at the bottom of the ocean where I wouldn't have any contact with anyone or anything."
She listened silently, the corners of her hazel eyes cast downwards, her heart no longer in one piece.
"This cruel act was by my son's hands, from fate, whatever that is. But that wasn't the worst part," he told her, grabbing her arms suddenly. Her arms felt the permanent burn of his touch. "The worst was wondering what Steven was going to do to you. I kept thinking that you would arrive on the bluffs at any moment, and there I was, helpless... Knowing his hatred for me, for demons and the fact that he knew how much I --."
"You... what?" Cordelia breathed, gazing up into the dark pools that were Angel's eyes.
He froze, trying to put his feelings into words. "... cared for you." he finally said, dropping his hands from her sides and looking away.
Cordelia felt the sudden coolness as his hands drew away from her. And a sudden disheartenment. "He wouldn't have found me." she told him softly.
"I didn't know that at first." His voice was low. Pained.
"How did you find out?"
"I searched for you for months after I got out of that box." he explained. "And even after I knew that you were safe and working for the Powers That Be."
Cordelia stared at him, his face like smooth marble under the moonlight. "I didn't know."
"I followed every lead, every sighting of you. Hoping to find you and get even a glimpse of you again. To find out for myself that you really were alright."
Cordelia didn't know what to say as she felt the two pieces of her heart wrench.
"And then I found out that you left of your own free will. Wolfram & Hart took great pleasure in telling me that." he added bitterly. "But I didn't believe it until Skip confirmed it."
Cordelia did a startled about-face. "Skip saw you? He never told me that."
"What a surprise." Angel snorted. "I'm sure he didn't tell you a lot of things."
"What about Connor?" she finally asked. Then, thinking about it, she corrected herself, "I mean, Steven. You must have looked for him, especially after what he'd done to you."
"My first concern was you." he told her, observing her eyes flicker. "I thought he might go after you anyway."
"But you were the one he stuck in a box," Cordelia reasoned. "He never did anything to me."
"He tried to kill you before," he reminded her. "That was when you healed him."
"Yes, I remember." she recalled. "I thought I took out all his hate. He must have a lot of it buried within him."
"Of course he has. Remember who his parents are. Not to mention the fact that he's been brain-washed by a demon-hunter practically from birth." Angel remarked bitterly. "I was so happy to have him back, I was just so blind to who he truly was."
Then again, she had been blind to his true nature too. And she had forgotten whose son he was. "Did he know that you had gotten free?"
"Oh, he knew." Angel answered grimly.
"But he hasn't come after you again?" Cordelia asked anxiously.
"No. He's taunting me, thinking of another way to get back at me." Angel gave a short laugh as he began to pace, belying his anxiety. "The apple doesn't fall far from the tree."
What tree was he referring to? In her mind, it was a toss-up between Darla and Holtz. And Angelus. Because she shouldn't ever forget him.
Cordelia regarded Angel with heart-breaking compassion. "Did you go after him at all?"
"While I was searching for you," he admitted. The pieces of her heart fluttered unexpectedly. "I followed your trail to Europe and then realized that he was here too."
"He's here? On this side of the world? What has he been doing?"
"He's been retracing my steps." He withdrew into himself slightly. She comprehended the look immediately.
"Your steps... when you were Angelus." She watched as a flicker of pain spread on his face.
"Yes." he nodded.
He was blaming himself for his son's actions, as usual. She was positive of it. She teetered on the brink of indecision; she wanted to hug him so much, to assure him that everything would be alright again. But she didn't have that right anymore. "Why would he do that?" she wondered aloud. "Why follow your path here?"
"I don't know. Does it matter?" he asked her listlessly.
She shook her head tiredly, rubbing the bridge of her nose. "Then, what happened?"
"I never found him." He looked out towards the empty night. "It's been a while since I stopped looking."
"But if he's here --."
"He's gone." He cut in tersely. "He's not my son anymore."
"That's it? You don't care?" she asked incredulously. Had this new side of him poisoned his feelings that much? When he shrugged, seemingly undisturbed, she blasted him. "You can't tell me that you wouldn't even care about your own son anymore. That you don't love him."
"What's love got to do with this anyway?" he chortled. "I stopped caring the minute everyone I trusted in this world walked out on me." he said, giving her a hard look.
"Even me?"
He just looked at her, with eyes that were now devoid of any feeling, even the previous intense hate. All she was left with was the cold night air. She gave an involuntary shudder.
"I understand now." She gazed at him with eyes that were too wide and sorrowful. Stricken. "But I can't believe that you've just given up."
"I gave up when I lost my Seer," he said, his gaze unfocused. "I gave up when I lost my vision." He smirked to himself as the moon shone dimly on him and her heart slowly shattered into a million little pieces. "I gave it all up when I lost you."
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F.
In the dark, dingy cellar of The Blue Parrot, a young man was picking through the rubble on the ground. There was no emotion expressed on his face as he gazed around him. He took in the scene in silence, from the guards who were sitting, dumb-founded and without any recollection of the night's previous events, to the charred rope that had been used to bind their prisoner's hands. He turned as the red-haired woman on the ground in front of him stirred.
"What happened?" she asked groggily, holding her head up.
"That's what I'd like to know," the man - like a boy with an angelic face - replied. "Our prisoner, the thing we captured, had a lot of answers we were looking for. What did this?"
"It's all so vague now..." the titian-haired woman closed her eyes.
"We have nothing again."
"I failed you."
"No, you failed the Destroyer." the man corrected.
"We still have the secret scrolls--."
"Which we can't verify," he snapped. "Wolfram & Hart is not the most reliable source. And having Wyndham-Price on their staff makes them less trust-worthy. Besides, even they cannot tell us what the Powers That Be are thinking."
"If we want insider information from the Powers That Be, then we need a link to them." the woman inputted.
He paced around the room, his eyes piercing through the darkness for clues. "We lost another battle today. Each one of these lost battles damages our cause. We're losing the war before we've even started it."
"If I'd only been more aware. Perhaps --"
"This is not the work of an amateur." The man gestured towards the two guards, still oblivious to what was going on. "Nothing would have helped you withstand a force as strong as this. This is the work of evil. A demon." He turned back towards the woman. "We don't have time to dwell on this. What do you remember?"
"The last thing I recall is a bright light." The woman narrowed her eyes. "And then the prisoner was gone."
"Who took the demon?" he asked, his voice tinged with a slight edge.
She shook her head in confusion. "I don't-- wait, I remember..."
"Yes?" he prompted her impatiently.
She squinted into the darkness, as if trying to dredge up a fuzzy memory. Suddenly, her eyes grew wide, a hardened expression forming on her face.
"What is it?" he questioned her, peering at her closely.
"It was her," she replied.
"Her." he repeated, puzzled. Suddenly comprehension dawned, "You mean...?"
"Yes." the red-haired woman affirmed quietly. "She's back."
"She did this?" he asked in disbelief, surveying the room. "That could only mean one thing."
"This is the mistake we've been waiting for."
His eyes became calculating. "Even more importantly, we can kill two birds with one stone. And if we're lucky, maybe a brand new bird will spring free."
The woman smirked. "What was it you said earlier? We may have just lost a battle..."
He followed her train of thought with a small smile. "But tonight, we ensure that we'll win the war," he finished.
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Last update: June 30, 2002
Rating: PG-13 (for language, violence) and definitely A/C.
Spoilers: Takes place after the Angel Season 3 ending cliffhanger.
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Part II
D.
A few alleyways down from Casablanca, two guards in gray uniforms stood outside a darkened door. They stood up straight, staring directly in front of them, their hands carrying a large machine gun. Above the door was a sign that read 'The Blue Parrot' and behind the door was another saloon. Only this one was closed for the night.
Beneath the saloon, in a dark, dingy cellar, was the demon, Quincy. He was seated, tied to a chair in the middle of the basement, his head slumped on his chest. As footsteps approached him from above, he peered up, revealing the multiple cuts and bruises on his face.
"Please," he croaked to the shadow that was steadily moving towards him. "Don't do this. For the love of this world, have mercy."
The shadow smirked. "Demon scum," she hissed, kicking him in the chest, succeeding in knocking him over. She knelt beside his prone form, her red hair falling into her face, effectively hiding it. "There's no mercy for monsters like you."
With delight, she observed Quincy whimper on the ground. "You'll be out of your misery soon enough," she promised.
"Then have it over with." the thin demon cried out.
"Not yet." she smiled.
"What are you waiting for?" the demon sobbed.
"For me," a voice behind the woman said. A figure stepped forward out of the shadows.
"It can't be," the red haired woman whispered in disbelief.
"Oh it is." Cordelia answered pertly, beginning to glow a bright white. The next instant, the room was flooded with a bright light and then Quincy only saw darkness.
When Quincy came to again, he found himself in a new place. It was warm, dry, and very comfortable. He was propped up in a wonderfully soft bed, complete with plush pillows and fuzzy blankets.
"Miss, you're too kind." he said weakly, as he saw his savior come in with a glass containing a blue liquid.
"It's alright," she replied with a smile. She handed him the glass and sat down gingerly on the edge of the bed.
"Ahh..." Quincy said with a satisfied smile as he quickly drank the contents of the glass. "Real stuff. Nobody makes these earls like they used to." He looked at her and began thanking her. "How can I repay you?" he asked.
Cordelia watched him carefully. "Tell me why the Resistance is after you."
"I don't know what you mean." But the demon was hanging his head.
Her voice became extra gentle. "If the Resistance had anything against you, they would have killed you right away," she pointed out. "They were saving you for questioning."
"Miss, I don't want to get you in trouble. This is dangerous business."
"Quincy," she began firmly, "I just stole a prisoner away from the Destroyer. This isn't the first time I've done it and it's not going to be the last. I'd say I'm in plenty of trouble already."
She could see that she was breaking his resolve. Shaking his head, he muttered to himself, "Bad times, these are. When pretty girls like you endanger themselves like this."
Cordelia had to smile, even if the sentiment was a little chauvinistic and out-of-date. "So you're going to tell me what the Resistance wanted to know."
He sighed. "It's about a death that will trigger the start of the war. I have information that I was hoping to share with a warrior."
"I already know about the war, the devastation it could cause. Tell me," Cordelia insisted. "Who's dying? Who's doing the killing?"
"A boy... very important to the Resistance. He will be committing the murder tonight, here in Paris. As to who he will kill, I cannot tell you." Quincy said. "But I can say that this will start a chain of events, one of which is the Prince of Darkness will descend on all of us, reaping mass destruction that we'll never recover from."
"So, I'm back at square one." she commented, disappointed. Cordelia watched the slight demon, sensing that he wasn't revealing everything. "Is that really all you know? Or only what you want to reveal?"
He hesitated. "I have told you everything you need to know."
"I see," she said slowly. "You'll be safe here," she told him. "Stay as long as you like." Getting up, she headed out the door.
"Miss Cordelia," Quincy called out to her as she was leaving. She turned around to face him. "You and the boy. You share an unbreakable bond."
Cordelia wrinkled her forehead. "How? What bond?"
"Just remember that." the demon told her. She puzzled over it for a moment before nodding and then leaving.
"Maybe you should have told her more." a voice said beside the demon. Quincy looked up to see Skip hovering over him with a worried expression on his face.
"So you're the one who sent her to me." Quincy replied.
"I want her to be more prepared. The Powers were ready to throw her in the lion's den without any warning."
"What else could I have told her? The reason why the Powers took her away from him that very day, that very minute? Even you didn't tell her the whole truth." Quincy reasoned.
"Luckily, she has a streak of nobility in her. Like him." Skip remarked, a little proudly.
"Not like him anymore. They've both become so different over the past year. Skip, I wonder if the Powers really know what they're doing."
Skip sighed. "Between you and me, I don't think the Powers had the faintest idea how to start handling this situation. Or how to deal with them, their feelings. It's never happened before."
"Are you sure? I thought for sure that Warrior and Seer from 1912 --."
"No." Skip cut in curtly. "That was never substantiated." He shook his head slowly, moving his upper torso to accomplish that. "On the other hand, Cordelia and Angel were about to declare their love for one another. Besides, it's been obvious that there was something between them for months now, and I'd venture to say even years although they themselves didn't have a clue."
"It's a messy business, separating two souls so attached to one another. A nice clean sever was the only way possible." Quincy looked at him closely. "You've already made up your mind on what you're going to do," he guessed. When Skip didn't respond, he stared at the exit that Cordelia had just walked through minutes ago. "I'll say one thing. I owe her a debt of gratitude tonight."
"Save it." Skip advised him. His jaw set a grim line as he thought about Cordelia and the task ahead of her. "Hope to the PTB that she'll get through this and be able to collect on it after tomorrow."
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E.
It was half past midnight and the night sky was clear, full of stars. The moon shone bright, providing a pale, bluish light on the Paris sidewalks.
Enclosed within one of these moonlit sidewalks was a large garden almost entirely covered in an array of damp lavender, forget-me-nots, and rosebushes. Standing peacefully on a small patch of grass was Cordelia, her feet bare, her eyes gazing upwards towards the sky.
Outwardly, she was looking tranquil. Inwardly, she was anything but.
Her mind began racing through her meeting with Angel that night. He had been so brusque with her, so hateful. This was something she had never expected to see from him, even though she was aware of the possibility that Angelus could resurface at a drop of a perfectly happy moment. That was the reason for all those private training sessions in the basement, after all.
Wasn't it?
God, that seemed like a lifetime ago.
Deep down, she thought she was prepared to deal with this. 'No,' she corrected herself. 'I was prepared to handle cruel, calculating Angelus. I was getting ready for a monster.'
She wasn't prepared to handle a cruel, hurtful Angel. Or a drunk one at that.
'Since when did you start drinking?' she demanded in her mind. She never thought that he would ever pick up that vice. 'Is it to escape your own brooding thoughts?' That would be a first for the normally angst-ridden vampire, knowing his predeliction for self-torment. However, judging from that night's episode, he seemed to be compounding his problem.
Maybe that was his reason.
She wanted to brush it aside. She wanted to ignore the sting and the incredible pain in her chest when she remembered those burning eyes and words that were meant to scorch and tear at her heart. But she had to return to 'Casablanca' and talk to Lorne again, which meant that she had to deal with it again. Or at least the possibility of having to dealing with him.
"I never signed up to do this." she said, looking at the moon. "I'm really needing that break now."
"So you talk to the lady on the moon too... makes for great company, doesn't she, when you're all alone." She didn't hear him approach her, but she would recognize that voice anytime, anyplace. "I should have figured I'd find you here," he added. "You always did like beautiful surroundings."
She looked at him coolly, as if she didn't know him. The sting of their earlier meeting still fresh in her mind.
"I've been tracking you all over the city." He stepped towards her, wanting to make amends. "I'm sorry, you tried to speak to me earlier. You tried to explain everything to me."
"You certainly get over being drunk quickly."
Angel's expression was remorseful, but he tried to make light of their conversation despite the edge in her voice. "The secret is to get plenty of blood." he said jokingly.
"Are you?" she questioned, as if expecting that he would go postal at any minute. "You seemed to be getting plenty of something else earlier." Her tone oozed with dripping disappointment.
"I'm sorry you had to see that." he apologized softly.
"That's a side that I never thought I'd see in you." she went on fiercely.
"I know." he replied helplessly. "I never thought I'd see it either." He shuffled his feet a bit on the moist grass and peered up at her hesitantly. "I'm ready to talk. And listen."
"And what if I don't want to talk about it now?" she retorted. "You made it quite clear tonight that we're not the same people we once were."
"I won't deny that I've changed and you've changed. But look at our world now, Cordy. It's different too."
"So now, it's back to Cordy..." Cordelia shot back. "I'll say our world is different," she remarked sadly. "I'm trying to stop a murder and you're not."
"A murder," he repeated. Her heart beat more rapidly as she sensed a tiny glimmer of interest in his voice. She wondered how long it had been since he had worked a case. "It's always the same old problems... What's the point anymore?"
Her heart dropped with a disappointing thud. "YOU are asking ME what the POINT IS?" What was wrong with him?
"That's right." Angel said, baring his teeth slightly. "The world I fought for is dying."
"And you're just letting it disappear." Cordelia stated, a cold fury in her voice. It couldn't be because of her.
Could it?
"Well, at least I'm not breaking my word." Angel bit back. She flinched. So, he was back to being bitter about her vow to stay with him until his shanshu. She desperately wanted to tell him that she had sincerely meant it. Still did, if only she could. "I never promised to save it."
"No," she told him calmly. "You're not going to continue putting this on me."
"Fine, then shall I point the finger to the son who hates me so much he believes that killing me is too good." Angel threw back bitterly.
She shook her head. "Don't blame this on Connor either. This is a choice you made all by yourself."
"That's right. All. By. Myself." he carefully enunciated those last three words.
"Is that your excuse for a coward's choice?" she challenged him. "How could you give up everything you worked so hard for?"
Angel gave her a bitter laugh. "How could you?"
"I didn't." Cordelia denied. "You wouldn't know, but every minute of every day I thought about what we used to fight for. About the good that we do, saving the world and all. About us. That's why I left..." She lowered her lashes to her feet. "... and then stayed away."
"And I thought you'd gotten side-tracked and run away with a rich, handsome producer."
Cordelia's head snapped back. He could be a real jerk sometimes. She glared at him, knowing how heartless the vampire in him could be... when he made up his mind to be that way.
"Is that supposed to be funny?" she queried furiously. "Look, I didn't come back because that was the best way for me to continue our work."
He looked at her mournfully. "Why didn't you contact me?" he asked, almost pleadingly. He looked so sad, lonely, standing in the middle of those beautiful rosebushes. Untouchable because of the thorns. In spite of her anger, she felt the strings of her heart being pulled.
"I wanted to," she admitted softly. "But the Powers insisted that I not talk to you or see you until... until my mission was complete."
"I didn't know where you were."
Such a simple statement. But what emotions it wrought.
Cordelia gazed unseeingly at the mass of crimson roses, sparkling with dew from the earlier rain showers. "I wasn't allowed to check up on you." she confessed. "I considered doing it anyway behind the Powers That Be's backs but then Skip was good enough to tell me about everything that had happened between you and Connor on the bluffs... after you had escaped." She looked at him, her eyes beseeching him to understand. "He wanted to assure me that you were alright."
"Well, isn't that noble of him?" Angel drawled sarcastically.
Cordelia became more sombre. "Do you think of that night?" she asked. Seeing the look on his face and realizing his answer, she hastily added, "often?"
"All the time." he answered, in the devastating way that only Angel could. The way that tore her heart.
Cordelia closed her eyes. "You were down there for so long. Trapped, all alone."
Angel's eyes became anguished as he recalled that time. "It was hard." he revealed, his voice so low he was almost whispering. "It felt like an eternity. I kept wondering what I had done to deserve that. The hate that I saw in his eyes when he ambushed me and then threw me in that box... He wanted me to live in agony forever, at the bottom of the ocean where I wouldn't have any contact with anyone or anything."
She listened silently, the corners of her hazel eyes cast downwards, her heart no longer in one piece.
"This cruel act was by my son's hands, from fate, whatever that is. But that wasn't the worst part," he told her, grabbing her arms suddenly. Her arms felt the permanent burn of his touch. "The worst was wondering what Steven was going to do to you. I kept thinking that you would arrive on the bluffs at any moment, and there I was, helpless... Knowing his hatred for me, for demons and the fact that he knew how much I --."
"You... what?" Cordelia breathed, gazing up into the dark pools that were Angel's eyes.
He froze, trying to put his feelings into words. "... cared for you." he finally said, dropping his hands from her sides and looking away.
Cordelia felt the sudden coolness as his hands drew away from her. And a sudden disheartenment. "He wouldn't have found me." she told him softly.
"I didn't know that at first." His voice was low. Pained.
"How did you find out?"
"I searched for you for months after I got out of that box." he explained. "And even after I knew that you were safe and working for the Powers That Be."
Cordelia stared at him, his face like smooth marble under the moonlight. "I didn't know."
"I followed every lead, every sighting of you. Hoping to find you and get even a glimpse of you again. To find out for myself that you really were alright."
Cordelia didn't know what to say as she felt the two pieces of her heart wrench.
"And then I found out that you left of your own free will. Wolfram & Hart took great pleasure in telling me that." he added bitterly. "But I didn't believe it until Skip confirmed it."
Cordelia did a startled about-face. "Skip saw you? He never told me that."
"What a surprise." Angel snorted. "I'm sure he didn't tell you a lot of things."
"What about Connor?" she finally asked. Then, thinking about it, she corrected herself, "I mean, Steven. You must have looked for him, especially after what he'd done to you."
"My first concern was you." he told her, observing her eyes flicker. "I thought he might go after you anyway."
"But you were the one he stuck in a box," Cordelia reasoned. "He never did anything to me."
"He tried to kill you before," he reminded her. "That was when you healed him."
"Yes, I remember." she recalled. "I thought I took out all his hate. He must have a lot of it buried within him."
"Of course he has. Remember who his parents are. Not to mention the fact that he's been brain-washed by a demon-hunter practically from birth." Angel remarked bitterly. "I was so happy to have him back, I was just so blind to who he truly was."
Then again, she had been blind to his true nature too. And she had forgotten whose son he was. "Did he know that you had gotten free?"
"Oh, he knew." Angel answered grimly.
"But he hasn't come after you again?" Cordelia asked anxiously.
"No. He's taunting me, thinking of another way to get back at me." Angel gave a short laugh as he began to pace, belying his anxiety. "The apple doesn't fall far from the tree."
What tree was he referring to? In her mind, it was a toss-up between Darla and Holtz. And Angelus. Because she shouldn't ever forget him.
Cordelia regarded Angel with heart-breaking compassion. "Did you go after him at all?"
"While I was searching for you," he admitted. The pieces of her heart fluttered unexpectedly. "I followed your trail to Europe and then realized that he was here too."
"He's here? On this side of the world? What has he been doing?"
"He's been retracing my steps." He withdrew into himself slightly. She comprehended the look immediately.
"Your steps... when you were Angelus." She watched as a flicker of pain spread on his face.
"Yes." he nodded.
He was blaming himself for his son's actions, as usual. She was positive of it. She teetered on the brink of indecision; she wanted to hug him so much, to assure him that everything would be alright again. But she didn't have that right anymore. "Why would he do that?" she wondered aloud. "Why follow your path here?"
"I don't know. Does it matter?" he asked her listlessly.
She shook her head tiredly, rubbing the bridge of her nose. "Then, what happened?"
"I never found him." He looked out towards the empty night. "It's been a while since I stopped looking."
"But if he's here --."
"He's gone." He cut in tersely. "He's not my son anymore."
"That's it? You don't care?" she asked incredulously. Had this new side of him poisoned his feelings that much? When he shrugged, seemingly undisturbed, she blasted him. "You can't tell me that you wouldn't even care about your own son anymore. That you don't love him."
"What's love got to do with this anyway?" he chortled. "I stopped caring the minute everyone I trusted in this world walked out on me." he said, giving her a hard look.
"Even me?"
He just looked at her, with eyes that were now devoid of any feeling, even the previous intense hate. All she was left with was the cold night air. She gave an involuntary shudder.
"I understand now." She gazed at him with eyes that were too wide and sorrowful. Stricken. "But I can't believe that you've just given up."
"I gave up when I lost my Seer," he said, his gaze unfocused. "I gave up when I lost my vision." He smirked to himself as the moon shone dimly on him and her heart slowly shattered into a million little pieces. "I gave it all up when I lost you."
~~ * ~~ ~~ * ~~ ~~ * ~~ ~~ * ~~ ~~ * ~~ ~~ * ~~ ~~ * ~~ @ ~~ * ~~ ~~ * ~~ ~~ * ~~ ~~ * ~~ ~~ * ~~ ~~ * ~~ ~~ * ~~
F.
In the dark, dingy cellar of The Blue Parrot, a young man was picking through the rubble on the ground. There was no emotion expressed on his face as he gazed around him. He took in the scene in silence, from the guards who were sitting, dumb-founded and without any recollection of the night's previous events, to the charred rope that had been used to bind their prisoner's hands. He turned as the red-haired woman on the ground in front of him stirred.
"What happened?" she asked groggily, holding her head up.
"That's what I'd like to know," the man - like a boy with an angelic face - replied. "Our prisoner, the thing we captured, had a lot of answers we were looking for. What did this?"
"It's all so vague now..." the titian-haired woman closed her eyes.
"We have nothing again."
"I failed you."
"No, you failed the Destroyer." the man corrected.
"We still have the secret scrolls--."
"Which we can't verify," he snapped. "Wolfram & Hart is not the most reliable source. And having Wyndham-Price on their staff makes them less trust-worthy. Besides, even they cannot tell us what the Powers That Be are thinking."
"If we want insider information from the Powers That Be, then we need a link to them." the woman inputted.
He paced around the room, his eyes piercing through the darkness for clues. "We lost another battle today. Each one of these lost battles damages our cause. We're losing the war before we've even started it."
"If I'd only been more aware. Perhaps --"
"This is not the work of an amateur." The man gestured towards the two guards, still oblivious to what was going on. "Nothing would have helped you withstand a force as strong as this. This is the work of evil. A demon." He turned back towards the woman. "We don't have time to dwell on this. What do you remember?"
"The last thing I recall is a bright light." The woman narrowed her eyes. "And then the prisoner was gone."
"Who took the demon?" he asked, his voice tinged with a slight edge.
She shook her head in confusion. "I don't-- wait, I remember..."
"Yes?" he prompted her impatiently.
She squinted into the darkness, as if trying to dredge up a fuzzy memory. Suddenly, her eyes grew wide, a hardened expression forming on her face.
"What is it?" he questioned her, peering at her closely.
"It was her," she replied.
"Her." he repeated, puzzled. Suddenly comprehension dawned, "You mean...?"
"Yes." the red-haired woman affirmed quietly. "She's back."
"She did this?" he asked in disbelief, surveying the room. "That could only mean one thing."
"This is the mistake we've been waiting for."
His eyes became calculating. "Even more importantly, we can kill two birds with one stone. And if we're lucky, maybe a brand new bird will spring free."
The woman smirked. "What was it you said earlier? We may have just lost a battle..."
He followed her train of thought with a small smile. "But tonight, we ensure that we'll win the war," he finished.
~~ * ~~ * ~~ * ~~ @ CONTINUED IN PART III @ ~~ * ~~ * ~~ * ~~
Last update: June 30, 2002