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 IV
K.
Angel stared moodily at the stage in front of him, where the piano player was entertaining Casablanca's guests. Ever since Cordelia had left for her meeting, he hadn't been able to shake the feeling that something was wrong. He swiveled on his stool, looking into the mirror behind the bar that couldn't show his reflection, and wondered what that voice in his head was trying to tell him.
"Why the look of doom and gloom?" a voice said to him, breaking into his thoughts.
He turned to his left and noticed the thin, nervous-looking demon from before at his elbow.
"Quincy," the demon reminded him.
"Right," Angel replied, momentarily distracted from his brooding. "I'm sorry about earlier and not helping--."
Quincy put up his hands. "I bear no ill will towards you. Besides," he shrugged. "There was nothing you could really do that wouldn't have made the situation worse. I shouldn't have put you in that position."
"Still, I should have tried. But I see you were able to get free."
"Yes," Quincy nodded with a secret smile. "I was saved."
"Isn't it dangerous for you to be back?" Lorne asked, coming up from behind the bar. "The guards might want to take you away again."
"Worried that there'll be trouble again? Your precious club will be fine." Quincy grinned.
"Well, Quince, now that you mention it..."
"Oh, I know that the Resistance will be looking for me again." Quincy cut in. "But I'm not afraid anymore," the wrinkly demon told them cheerfully. "Neither should you. Not when she's around."
"Who?" Lorne asked curiously.
"The Savior, of course!" Quincy answered. He stared at them witheringly. "Haven't you heard of her?"
"Yes, yes. One hears of this Savior everywhere." Lorne said, stunned. "But he's a she?"
"Lorne, you surprise me." Quincy shook his head in mock disappointment. "It is the twenty-first century."
Angel's eyes narrowed as the realization dawned on him. "Cordy," he broke in. "She's The Savior."
Quincy nodded, beaming at the expressions that flashed on the vampire's face. Shock. Admiration. Love.
"Our little pumpkin," Lorne shook his head. "Kids these days... she grew up so quickly. Although, she's a damn fine woman now," he shot in quickly at the glare directed by Angel. The Host laughed with glee. "Man, do I not want to be the Destroyer. She'll kick his ass all the way to next year!" he exclaimed, punching the air.
"Yeah." Angel smirked, a flash of pride popping up as he thought about her. But something else was still bothering him. If he could only put his finger on it...
"That little spit-fire will put the Destroyer back in his place. But we shouldn't be talking so loudly." Quincy leaned in conspiratorially. "We don't know if his spies are around us."
The tender look on Angel's face was quickly replaced with fear.
"She's in danger." Angel swallowed, his eyes thin and intense. Was that what his head was trying to tell him earlier? Or was he detecting something else?
"Well, the Resistance is looking to get rid of her." Lorne said matter-of-factly, understanding Angel's concern but not catching on to his fear. "She's foiled their attempts to wipe us out so many times."
"Yes, she did ruin their best-laid plans." Quincy nodded enthusiastically. "And they've been trying to determine her identity for a while now. Skip was just saying that all hell will break loose when the Resistance finds out it's her."
Angel's darkened eyes pinned themselves directly at the haggard demon beside him. "What did you just say?"
"All hell will break loose for Miss Cordelia when --"
"No," Angel practically shouted, his eyes terrifying yellow. "You talked to Skip."
Quincy looked confused and terrified at the same time. "Why, yes, just now..."
"Did he mention meeting Cordelia when you two parted?" The vampire's were piercing into the thin demon's sockets now.
"No," Quincy replied shakily. "The Powers just summoned him."
"Angel..." Lorne began when the vampire's eyes started darting frantically.
"I haven't been able to shake the feeling that something bad is happening." Angel said hollowly. He took a sharp intake of breath suddenly. "I smell blood in the air. It's faint... I didn't notice it at first. But that's what's wrong." His blood ran cold as the realization dawned on him. "I smell Cordy's blood."
"Oh, this can't be good." Lorne said, breaking down.
Angel grabbed the Host's jacket over the counter. "What did the note say? Where did she go?"
"I don't know." Lorne replied helplessly, placing his hands over his eyes. "I thought it was PTB eyes only. I didn't think to open it. This is bad. This is very bad."
But he was only speaking to Quincy. When the Host finally lowered his hands again, he realized that Angel had already gone.
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L.
"I've been waiting for you to make a mistake." The voice was low and emotionless.
Cordelia's liquid eyes met the eyes of the boy - young man - staring solemnly down at her.
"So you've discovered who I am." Cordelia said thickly, still covering her gaping wound. It didn't stop the stain of red travelling over her dress.
"The Savior." he acknowledged tonelessly. "You're the Resistance's biggest threat."
"And that's your reason?" she asked sorrowfully. "My life means that little to you?"
"No, your death means that much to me." he corrected her quietly. "Your life meant a lot too... at least before. You see, I've been meaning to thank you."
At Cordelia's questioning look, he explained. "When you disappeared, you accomplished torturing him more than I ever could." Connor, or as he more commonly referred himself, Steven, smiled quietly. "I saw what your absence did to Angel. I know what your death will do to him."
"I think you underestimate the cruelty of your own power," she replied, a breath catching in her throat as pain, not just from her wound, shot through her chest. "Your own disappearance had a large effect on him too."
"I don't think so," Steven said coldly. "He was willing to kill that freak who gave birth to me because she bit you. He was ready to snuff out my existence before I was even born."
"You've been doing your homework... but you can't possibly be bitter about that," she said incredulously. "Besides, he didn't kill Darla because he wanted you to live."
"I think we both know that if it came down to it, he would have killed her for you, even if he had to sacrifice my life. Don't worry, I'm not bitter." Steven smiled. "I just understand his nature. He would have gone mad knowing that he wasn't able to save you in time. You know, I always wondered why you never showed up on that Point. At first I thought you had discovered what was in store for you through a vision."
Something in the way he said that penetrated through the blinding pain in Cordelia's mind. "You were planning on killing me on those bluffs." she accused him with a strangled gasp. "Knowing that Angel wouldn't be able to stop you."
"Yes." Steven nodded. "I knew he'd get out eventually, being the resourceful vampire that he is. I wanted him to know what it's like to lose the one person he truly loved and trusted."
She pushed back the cold that was seeping through her veins. "Now that I'm back, you're finishing the job you started."
"Yes," he answered thoughtfully. "And doubly advantageous now that I know who and what you really are." He knelt beside her, and suddenly kissed her.
When she felt his cool lips pressed against hers, her eyes flew open in absolute shock. She gave into her first response.
"Ow." he cried, the first sign of involuntary emotion from him that night. He touched his bottom lip and when he withdrew his hand, saw red on it.
"What the hell are you doing?" she gasped, her tooth dripping with his blood.
"Trying to take your visions," he told her. "The Resistance was hoping to be able to tap into that link of yours with the Powers That Be."
"That's not how it works," she half shouted in disgust, cringing at the idea of him getting her visions. No, he wouldn't ever get them. Not even from her dead body.
He shrugged. "No matter. It's not as if we can't win the war, now that you're gone."
"I'm not gone yet," she told him fiercely. "Angel will find you. He won't let you get away with this."
"Let him," Steven smirked. "I have other plans for him."
Cordelia's eyes filled with tears when she thought of what Angel's reaction to her death would be. She knew that he would hunt her killer down and avenge her death, no matter what the cost. And regardless of who it was. Thinking of Angel was starting to become too much, as she knew that her vampire would stop at nothing to destroy Connor, even if it meant killing his own son.
And it would eat him up so much that it would end up killing Angel, himself.
She had to do something, get through to Connor somehow, at least while she still could. Even if it would be the last thing she did.
She sat up with great effort, gripping her chest and hanging onto that last thought. "I remember you when you were still a baby," she said softly, changing tactic. "You were so innocent and trusting then."
"Yes, and Angel was good, practically a Saint. He loved me so much." Steven continued in mock sorrow. He paused when he saw her close her eyes, swallow hard, and pale considerably from the immense blood loss. "Spare me the altruistic last speech; it's not going to change my mind. If I were you, I'd save your breath for better things."
"He does love you," she shouted angrily, fueled by a suppressed shudder. She shoved her own growing weakness down her throat and focused sharply on the distant youth. "He'd show you how much if you just let him."
"How?" Steven asked, becoming just as angry. "By killing the only father I knew?" He stood up again, wheeling around furiously. "Tell me again that he loves me that much."
Cordelia looked at him in surprise, shaking her head to clear it and trying to ignore the pain beneath her hand. "You're wrong," she called after him, pleading with him to listen and believe her. "Angel told me himself that he didn't kill Holtz."
"I'm not wrong!" he yelled back furiously. Thundering back to her, his fists clenched tightly, he stopped when he saw the flash of hurt on her face. Suddenly, he smirked. "What makes you so sure that he didn't lie to you? He's done it before, hasn't he?"
She regarded that deceptively childlike gaze. "You HAVE been doing your homework. Following Angel's footsteps since he first became Angelus."
"I don't deny it." he nodded, his anger seemingly disappated. "Why are you trying to defend him to me? From what I hear, you weren't very happy about my existence at first. I would think you'd be very happy to be rid of me finally."
Cordelia recoiled in horror. "No! How could you ever think that?" Under his watchful gaze, she recognized a bit of the truth. "If there was ever a time that I wasn't thrilled with your existence, it was before you were even born. But then when I finally held you in my arms, fed you, spent time with you... I have never wished you gone, not since I've really gotten to know you."
He blinked, the second sign of emotion that night. With a twist of the head, he tried to brush her remark aside. "You don't know me," he told her shortly. "And you don't know him."
"That's not true, Connor." She got up, gritting her teeth at the intense pain, the smell of her own blood gushing out of her chest, bloodying the entire length of her dress. She approached him standing, where he was frozen in place, and placed a warm hand on his cool face. "I do. And despite everything that's happened, I still love you both very much."
For a minute, he wavered, contemplating her words and gazing at her in open awe. His eyes betrayed a softness and tenderness that reminded Cordelia of his father. His true father. And in that instant, she saw the little boy borne of miracle and so full of love that she had been allowed to raise instead of the angry young man so consumed with hate.
"It's not too late, Connor." she breathed, brushing his hair, opening her arms wide to envelope him. "We can still get past this. You just have to believe in it."
But the spell was broken. "My name is STEVEN!" he roared as he raised his knife again.
"No!" she cried, but it wasn't out of fear for herself. She grabbed the hand with the knife and an incandescent white glow enveloped them.
He looked at her, unable to move his arm and or anything else as she whispered to him to listen. A haze filled his mind then, the sounds of slow heartbeats gently beating in his eardrums as he gazed into her wide, all-seeing eyes.
He was remembering.
Cordelia was sitting in a rocking chair, reading from a book in her hands. On the book's cover was a picture of a stout man with a reed pipe.
She was reading to him in his crib when he was still a baby.
"To his lips again laid his long pipe of smooth straight cane," she was saying. "And ere he blew three notes..." She paused and looked at him lovingly. "Such sweet soft notes as yet musician's cunning never gave the enraptured air..."
Another memory flashed before him.
He was in Angel's arms, being rocked gently. Other faces, friendly, loving ones appeared around him. He recognized them immediately. A man with glasses who didn't know how to act around him, a slendar woman with brown hair cooing at him gently, a tall dark man with a smirk on his face, trying to tickle him and make him laugh.
And Cordelia and Angel blowing kisses at him.
"Small feet were pattering," he heard Cordelia's voice continue reciting as an image of a green demon cradling him and fussing over him appeared, "Out came the children running."
He was seeing himself as a baby again, sandwiched in a bed between Cordelia and Angel. She was feeding him his bottle while the vampire was planning for the future, his future.
They were falling asleep together.
"Tripping and skipping, ran merrily after..."
His memory morphed into that of the solemn man with glasses carrying him away, far away.
"The wonderful music with shouting and laughter."
His father was crooning to him in his tux. Singing to him softly and sweetly. Happily dreaming of the woman he needed and loved more than life itself.
"He loves you." he heard her whisper desperately as the haze lifted. She was showing him his memories, trying to make him understand again even through her own agony. Even as she collapsed, crumpling to the ground, spent and dying before his eyes.
He had done this to her. She, who was not his mother. Not human.
But the only mother he would ever know.
The knife fell from his hand, his arm limply dropping to his side. Listening to the metal clatter to the ground, he stared at her, confused by his emotions. Confused by hers. Extremely frightened by both.
His head and heart were pounding furiously. He did the first thing that made sense to him. He turned on his heel and ran.
As he raced away from the almost empty alleyway, from the darkness, from her, he heard her whisper that she forgave him.
And that no matter what happened, she would always love him.
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M.
Angel had been searching desperately for too long. He was going by scent alone which made it a long and arduous process for him despite his vampire powers, all the more so because of the overwhelming sense of panic that had taken over his senses. His eyes were yellow, piercing, and bloodshot, as he peered into the shadows, making his way towards the source of his fears.
As he approached an overly darkened, abandoned alleyway, he quickly spotted the bloodied shoeprints leading away. He rounded the corner and immediately, the pungeant odour of blood that had been exposed to air far too long hit his senses. His eyes caught the bundle of white on the ground half hidden by shadows.
And the stain of blood puddled around it.
His ears rang with Cordelia's waning heartbeat.
Racing towards her and dropping to the ground, he gently picked her body up and turned her to face him.
"Angel..." Cordelia murmurred, as her eyes fell on the terrified look on his face.
He took in the eyes that were almost empty and unseeing. The face that was paler than his could ever be. And the blood that poured out of the large wound in her chest, seeping through and soaking crimson the white fabric of her dress.
She raised her hand towards him to touch his face but she didn't have the necessary strength to keep it in the air. He captured her flailing hand and held it in his, and to his lips. Clasping her against him, he began to rock her gently. Kissing her face and her hair, tears began to fall as his clothing rapidly turned the same shade as the front of hers.
"You're going to make it" he said hollowly, holding his hand over her heart to plug the blood flow. "I'm not letting you leave me again." The blood flowed through his fingers anyway, as her heartbeats gradually slowed beneath his hand.
As well as the ringing in his head.
And the beating in his heart.
Despite her dwindling strength, her lips moved, a tiny sound coming through. Only his vampire hearing was able to pick it up. "Whatever happens, don't go after him."
"Who?" he asked desperately. "Why would I--." He stopped as his eyes fell on the glint of silver beside him. He reached over, still clutching her body to his, and picked it up.
And immediately realized who had committed this brutal act.
He let out another wail that night, this time to the moon and the stars. Everyone in Paris heard it, as did the Powers That Be, and the rest of the world. They all shivered, for it was the bay of a wolf in agony over its beloved chosen mate, a cry to the higher powers for giving him a son, and the bitter irony that he would end up losing both.
Most of all, it was the desperate fight to understand why no matter how much he tried, none of them ever had a chance.
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Last update: July 2, 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 IV
K.
Angel stared moodily at the stage in front of him, where the piano player was entertaining Casablanca's guests. Ever since Cordelia had left for her meeting, he hadn't been able to shake the feeling that something was wrong. He swiveled on his stool, looking into the mirror behind the bar that couldn't show his reflection, and wondered what that voice in his head was trying to tell him.
"Why the look of doom and gloom?" a voice said to him, breaking into his thoughts.
He turned to his left and noticed the thin, nervous-looking demon from before at his elbow.
"Quincy," the demon reminded him.
"Right," Angel replied, momentarily distracted from his brooding. "I'm sorry about earlier and not helping--."
Quincy put up his hands. "I bear no ill will towards you. Besides," he shrugged. "There was nothing you could really do that wouldn't have made the situation worse. I shouldn't have put you in that position."
"Still, I should have tried. But I see you were able to get free."
"Yes," Quincy nodded with a secret smile. "I was saved."
"Isn't it dangerous for you to be back?" Lorne asked, coming up from behind the bar. "The guards might want to take you away again."
"Worried that there'll be trouble again? Your precious club will be fine." Quincy grinned.
"Well, Quince, now that you mention it..."
"Oh, I know that the Resistance will be looking for me again." Quincy cut in. "But I'm not afraid anymore," the wrinkly demon told them cheerfully. "Neither should you. Not when she's around."
"Who?" Lorne asked curiously.
"The Savior, of course!" Quincy answered. He stared at them witheringly. "Haven't you heard of her?"
"Yes, yes. One hears of this Savior everywhere." Lorne said, stunned. "But he's a she?"
"Lorne, you surprise me." Quincy shook his head in mock disappointment. "It is the twenty-first century."
Angel's eyes narrowed as the realization dawned on him. "Cordy," he broke in. "She's The Savior."
Quincy nodded, beaming at the expressions that flashed on the vampire's face. Shock. Admiration. Love.
"Our little pumpkin," Lorne shook his head. "Kids these days... she grew up so quickly. Although, she's a damn fine woman now," he shot in quickly at the glare directed by Angel. The Host laughed with glee. "Man, do I not want to be the Destroyer. She'll kick his ass all the way to next year!" he exclaimed, punching the air.
"Yeah." Angel smirked, a flash of pride popping up as he thought about her. But something else was still bothering him. If he could only put his finger on it...
"That little spit-fire will put the Destroyer back in his place. But we shouldn't be talking so loudly." Quincy leaned in conspiratorially. "We don't know if his spies are around us."
The tender look on Angel's face was quickly replaced with fear.
"She's in danger." Angel swallowed, his eyes thin and intense. Was that what his head was trying to tell him earlier? Or was he detecting something else?
"Well, the Resistance is looking to get rid of her." Lorne said matter-of-factly, understanding Angel's concern but not catching on to his fear. "She's foiled their attempts to wipe us out so many times."
"Yes, she did ruin their best-laid plans." Quincy nodded enthusiastically. "And they've been trying to determine her identity for a while now. Skip was just saying that all hell will break loose when the Resistance finds out it's her."
Angel's darkened eyes pinned themselves directly at the haggard demon beside him. "What did you just say?"
"All hell will break loose for Miss Cordelia when --"
"No," Angel practically shouted, his eyes terrifying yellow. "You talked to Skip."
Quincy looked confused and terrified at the same time. "Why, yes, just now..."
"Did he mention meeting Cordelia when you two parted?" The vampire's were piercing into the thin demon's sockets now.
"No," Quincy replied shakily. "The Powers just summoned him."
"Angel..." Lorne began when the vampire's eyes started darting frantically.
"I haven't been able to shake the feeling that something bad is happening." Angel said hollowly. He took a sharp intake of breath suddenly. "I smell blood in the air. It's faint... I didn't notice it at first. But that's what's wrong." His blood ran cold as the realization dawned on him. "I smell Cordy's blood."
"Oh, this can't be good." Lorne said, breaking down.
Angel grabbed the Host's jacket over the counter. "What did the note say? Where did she go?"
"I don't know." Lorne replied helplessly, placing his hands over his eyes. "I thought it was PTB eyes only. I didn't think to open it. This is bad. This is very bad."
But he was only speaking to Quincy. When the Host finally lowered his hands again, he realized that Angel had already gone.
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L.
"I've been waiting for you to make a mistake." The voice was low and emotionless.
Cordelia's liquid eyes met the eyes of the boy - young man - staring solemnly down at her.
"So you've discovered who I am." Cordelia said thickly, still covering her gaping wound. It didn't stop the stain of red travelling over her dress.
"The Savior." he acknowledged tonelessly. "You're the Resistance's biggest threat."
"And that's your reason?" she asked sorrowfully. "My life means that little to you?"
"No, your death means that much to me." he corrected her quietly. "Your life meant a lot too... at least before. You see, I've been meaning to thank you."
At Cordelia's questioning look, he explained. "When you disappeared, you accomplished torturing him more than I ever could." Connor, or as he more commonly referred himself, Steven, smiled quietly. "I saw what your absence did to Angel. I know what your death will do to him."
"I think you underestimate the cruelty of your own power," she replied, a breath catching in her throat as pain, not just from her wound, shot through her chest. "Your own disappearance had a large effect on him too."
"I don't think so," Steven said coldly. "He was willing to kill that freak who gave birth to me because she bit you. He was ready to snuff out my existence before I was even born."
"You've been doing your homework... but you can't possibly be bitter about that," she said incredulously. "Besides, he didn't kill Darla because he wanted you to live."
"I think we both know that if it came down to it, he would have killed her for you, even if he had to sacrifice my life. Don't worry, I'm not bitter." Steven smiled. "I just understand his nature. He would have gone mad knowing that he wasn't able to save you in time. You know, I always wondered why you never showed up on that Point. At first I thought you had discovered what was in store for you through a vision."
Something in the way he said that penetrated through the blinding pain in Cordelia's mind. "You were planning on killing me on those bluffs." she accused him with a strangled gasp. "Knowing that Angel wouldn't be able to stop you."
"Yes." Steven nodded. "I knew he'd get out eventually, being the resourceful vampire that he is. I wanted him to know what it's like to lose the one person he truly loved and trusted."
She pushed back the cold that was seeping through her veins. "Now that I'm back, you're finishing the job you started."
"Yes," he answered thoughtfully. "And doubly advantageous now that I know who and what you really are." He knelt beside her, and suddenly kissed her.
When she felt his cool lips pressed against hers, her eyes flew open in absolute shock. She gave into her first response.
"Ow." he cried, the first sign of involuntary emotion from him that night. He touched his bottom lip and when he withdrew his hand, saw red on it.
"What the hell are you doing?" she gasped, her tooth dripping with his blood.
"Trying to take your visions," he told her. "The Resistance was hoping to be able to tap into that link of yours with the Powers That Be."
"That's not how it works," she half shouted in disgust, cringing at the idea of him getting her visions. No, he wouldn't ever get them. Not even from her dead body.
He shrugged. "No matter. It's not as if we can't win the war, now that you're gone."
"I'm not gone yet," she told him fiercely. "Angel will find you. He won't let you get away with this."
"Let him," Steven smirked. "I have other plans for him."
Cordelia's eyes filled with tears when she thought of what Angel's reaction to her death would be. She knew that he would hunt her killer down and avenge her death, no matter what the cost. And regardless of who it was. Thinking of Angel was starting to become too much, as she knew that her vampire would stop at nothing to destroy Connor, even if it meant killing his own son.
And it would eat him up so much that it would end up killing Angel, himself.
She had to do something, get through to Connor somehow, at least while she still could. Even if it would be the last thing she did.
She sat up with great effort, gripping her chest and hanging onto that last thought. "I remember you when you were still a baby," she said softly, changing tactic. "You were so innocent and trusting then."
"Yes, and Angel was good, practically a Saint. He loved me so much." Steven continued in mock sorrow. He paused when he saw her close her eyes, swallow hard, and pale considerably from the immense blood loss. "Spare me the altruistic last speech; it's not going to change my mind. If I were you, I'd save your breath for better things."
"He does love you," she shouted angrily, fueled by a suppressed shudder. She shoved her own growing weakness down her throat and focused sharply on the distant youth. "He'd show you how much if you just let him."
"How?" Steven asked, becoming just as angry. "By killing the only father I knew?" He stood up again, wheeling around furiously. "Tell me again that he loves me that much."
Cordelia looked at him in surprise, shaking her head to clear it and trying to ignore the pain beneath her hand. "You're wrong," she called after him, pleading with him to listen and believe her. "Angel told me himself that he didn't kill Holtz."
"I'm not wrong!" he yelled back furiously. Thundering back to her, his fists clenched tightly, he stopped when he saw the flash of hurt on her face. Suddenly, he smirked. "What makes you so sure that he didn't lie to you? He's done it before, hasn't he?"
She regarded that deceptively childlike gaze. "You HAVE been doing your homework. Following Angel's footsteps since he first became Angelus."
"I don't deny it." he nodded, his anger seemingly disappated. "Why are you trying to defend him to me? From what I hear, you weren't very happy about my existence at first. I would think you'd be very happy to be rid of me finally."
Cordelia recoiled in horror. "No! How could you ever think that?" Under his watchful gaze, she recognized a bit of the truth. "If there was ever a time that I wasn't thrilled with your existence, it was before you were even born. But then when I finally held you in my arms, fed you, spent time with you... I have never wished you gone, not since I've really gotten to know you."
He blinked, the second sign of emotion that night. With a twist of the head, he tried to brush her remark aside. "You don't know me," he told her shortly. "And you don't know him."
"That's not true, Connor." She got up, gritting her teeth at the intense pain, the smell of her own blood gushing out of her chest, bloodying the entire length of her dress. She approached him standing, where he was frozen in place, and placed a warm hand on his cool face. "I do. And despite everything that's happened, I still love you both very much."
For a minute, he wavered, contemplating her words and gazing at her in open awe. His eyes betrayed a softness and tenderness that reminded Cordelia of his father. His true father. And in that instant, she saw the little boy borne of miracle and so full of love that she had been allowed to raise instead of the angry young man so consumed with hate.
"It's not too late, Connor." she breathed, brushing his hair, opening her arms wide to envelope him. "We can still get past this. You just have to believe in it."
But the spell was broken. "My name is STEVEN!" he roared as he raised his knife again.
"No!" she cried, but it wasn't out of fear for herself. She grabbed the hand with the knife and an incandescent white glow enveloped them.
He looked at her, unable to move his arm and or anything else as she whispered to him to listen. A haze filled his mind then, the sounds of slow heartbeats gently beating in his eardrums as he gazed into her wide, all-seeing eyes.
He was remembering.
Cordelia was sitting in a rocking chair, reading from a book in her hands. On the book's cover was a picture of a stout man with a reed pipe.
She was reading to him in his crib when he was still a baby.
"To his lips again laid his long pipe of smooth straight cane," she was saying. "And ere he blew three notes..." She paused and looked at him lovingly. "Such sweet soft notes as yet musician's cunning never gave the enraptured air..."
Another memory flashed before him.
He was in Angel's arms, being rocked gently. Other faces, friendly, loving ones appeared around him. He recognized them immediately. A man with glasses who didn't know how to act around him, a slendar woman with brown hair cooing at him gently, a tall dark man with a smirk on his face, trying to tickle him and make him laugh.
And Cordelia and Angel blowing kisses at him.
"Small feet were pattering," he heard Cordelia's voice continue reciting as an image of a green demon cradling him and fussing over him appeared, "Out came the children running."
He was seeing himself as a baby again, sandwiched in a bed between Cordelia and Angel. She was feeding him his bottle while the vampire was planning for the future, his future.
They were falling asleep together.
"Tripping and skipping, ran merrily after..."
His memory morphed into that of the solemn man with glasses carrying him away, far away.
"The wonderful music with shouting and laughter."
His father was crooning to him in his tux. Singing to him softly and sweetly. Happily dreaming of the woman he needed and loved more than life itself.
"He loves you." he heard her whisper desperately as the haze lifted. She was showing him his memories, trying to make him understand again even through her own agony. Even as she collapsed, crumpling to the ground, spent and dying before his eyes.
He had done this to her. She, who was not his mother. Not human.
But the only mother he would ever know.
The knife fell from his hand, his arm limply dropping to his side. Listening to the metal clatter to the ground, he stared at her, confused by his emotions. Confused by hers. Extremely frightened by both.
His head and heart were pounding furiously. He did the first thing that made sense to him. He turned on his heel and ran.
As he raced away from the almost empty alleyway, from the darkness, from her, he heard her whisper that she forgave him.
And that no matter what happened, she would always love him.
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M.
Angel had been searching desperately for too long. He was going by scent alone which made it a long and arduous process for him despite his vampire powers, all the more so because of the overwhelming sense of panic that had taken over his senses. His eyes were yellow, piercing, and bloodshot, as he peered into the shadows, making his way towards the source of his fears.
As he approached an overly darkened, abandoned alleyway, he quickly spotted the bloodied shoeprints leading away. He rounded the corner and immediately, the pungeant odour of blood that had been exposed to air far too long hit his senses. His eyes caught the bundle of white on the ground half hidden by shadows.
And the stain of blood puddled around it.
His ears rang with Cordelia's waning heartbeat.
Racing towards her and dropping to the ground, he gently picked her body up and turned her to face him.
"Angel..." Cordelia murmurred, as her eyes fell on the terrified look on his face.
He took in the eyes that were almost empty and unseeing. The face that was paler than his could ever be. And the blood that poured out of the large wound in her chest, seeping through and soaking crimson the white fabric of her dress.
She raised her hand towards him to touch his face but she didn't have the necessary strength to keep it in the air. He captured her flailing hand and held it in his, and to his lips. Clasping her against him, he began to rock her gently. Kissing her face and her hair, tears began to fall as his clothing rapidly turned the same shade as the front of hers.
"You're going to make it" he said hollowly, holding his hand over her heart to plug the blood flow. "I'm not letting you leave me again." The blood flowed through his fingers anyway, as her heartbeats gradually slowed beneath his hand.
As well as the ringing in his head.
And the beating in his heart.
Despite her dwindling strength, her lips moved, a tiny sound coming through. Only his vampire hearing was able to pick it up. "Whatever happens, don't go after him."
"Who?" he asked desperately. "Why would I--." He stopped as his eyes fell on the glint of silver beside him. He reached over, still clutching her body to his, and picked it up.
And immediately realized who had committed this brutal act.
He let out another wail that night, this time to the moon and the stars. Everyone in Paris heard it, as did the Powers That Be, and the rest of the world. They all shivered, for it was the bay of a wolf in agony over its beloved chosen mate, a cry to the higher powers for giving him a son, and the bitter irony that he would end up losing both.
Most of all, it was the desperate fight to understand why no matter how much he tried, none of them ever had a chance.
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Last update: July 2, 2002