Author's Note – Thanks to everyone giving me feedback. I appreciate it. There will be character death in this chapter.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Well I guess
You took my youth
I gave it all away
Like the birth of a
New-found joy
This love would end in rage
And when she died
I couldn't cry
The pride within my soul
You left me incomplete
All alone as the
Memories now unfold.
Believe the word
I will unlock my door
And pass the
Cemetery Gates
Angel watched Wesley and Karan working the spell at the water's edge. Faith perched on the GTX's trunk, keeping a vigilant eye out. Neither of them expected any demon activity. The area was too deserted to be of interest. The scent of L.A. burning seemed less here, overpowered by salt and fish. Still, that was a clean smell by comparison to the city. A soft breeze lathed the sand.
Buffy had been home when he called to tell her about the First Evil and he couldn't ever remember hearing so much tension in her voice, nor heard her so self-centered and rude, not only to him but to those in her home for whom she kept breaking off their conversation to snap at. She explained that she had a home full of Potential Slayers that she, Giles and Spike were trying to train and keep safe. He didn't even ask why Spike was there, trusting there was a good reason for it. He told her how to use the demon knife to destroy the First Evil's ability to manifest in this realm. He stayed on the line until Karan teleported the knife and Buffy confirmed she had received it.
Karen then called the high priestess of all the sects of S'Vear to double check the spell to reverse the constant night. During the course of that conversation the high priestess revealed more knowledge about the First Evil. It made perfect sense to Angel. He remembered what it was like to be under its control. He called Buffy again and got Giles and Willow on the phone, both colder and more self-centered than he knew was usual for them to the point of nearly brushing him off so they could get back to some petty squabble about Willow and one of the Potentials, Kennedy. Or at least that was what he assumed from what he could piece together. He hurriedly explained that it was like a psychic poisoning from the First Evil's presence. When he had been enthralled almost no one could break though his armor of self-absorption and 'no one knows suffering like me.' He tried to explain to them that their anger and short tempers were all part of it and they needed to stop in-fighting and caring only about themselves if they wanted to beat the First Evil. It went over like the proverbial lead balloon but now their anger was directed at him and he could utilize that.
Karan and Wes offered a few spells and herbs to help ameliorate the worst of their symptoms. Through the sniping and honest listening, Willow let slip how bad it was; how Buffy had been more concerned about Spike's cut lip than Xander's gut wound; how she herself had stolen energy from her friends without permission or remorse. He tried to reassure her that it was all because of the influence of the First Evil. For their sake, he hoped he was right. Buffy caring more for the undead than a potentially mortally wounded friend was simply wrong and that had to be from some outside influence. She couldn't be that changed, could she?
"I should have went with Gunn and Fred," Faith said, breaking into his thoughts.
"We need you here just in case. We have to protect Wes and Karan. Reversing this spell is the most important thing," Angel replied, distractedly.
"Even if it costs Cordelia her life?" Faith asked, examining a burn on her arm.
"The good of the many and all that," Angel said unhappily. "This has to be undone. Connor will get to the hotel quickly, and Gunn and Fred. It'll have to be enough."
Faith nodded. "I don't think I ever got this 'whole world is depending on me stuff' before. I just thought it was Buffy being a tight ass." She shrugged, suggesting she still felt that way a little. "It's a strange feeling."
Angel scrubbed a hand through his hair. "Always is."
Faith slid off the trunk as Karan and Wesley trudged up the sand. "Did it work?"
Wesley smiled. "We believe so."
The tension drained out of Angel. "Wonderful. We should get back to the hotel."
"Please, take me to my home. I still have my family to bury and I want to join the sisterhood up in San Fran," Karan said, sagging against the car. Even that seemed like a supreme effort.
"Are you certain that's safe?" Wesley asked.
"I'm not entirely defenseless. I'll be fine on my own," Karan said but the exhaustion in her eyes made it less convincing.
"We'll take you home. Thank you," Angel said.
"I'm just glad we were able to stop this. If only so much death hadn't already occurred," Karan replied, looking towards the city. She nearly collapsed. Angel caught her and put her in the car.
"At least this is an end to it," Wesley said, brushing at his soot-choked hair.
"We hope," Faith put in, climbing back into the car.
* * *
Connor panted hard as he stumbled to a halt in front of the hotel. His muscles trembled from exertion. His burns hurt and his whole body throbbed from the battering the Beast had inflicted. On the way he coughed up too much soot-streaked gunk from his lungs for his own peace of mind. He had avoided several lone vampires on his way. It bothered him to do so but he couldn't lose time. Cordelia could be in trouble. He might still feel angry and hurt but he didn't want anything bad to happen to her. Despite what she had done to him recently, he still loved her. He looked at the hotel. It was too quiet. The streets were empty and it made him nervous.
Connor tried to bound up the steps and was promptly repelled. Cursing, he rolled to his feet. He had forgotten the protective spell. Connor struggled to bring the words Fred taught him to mind. He managed it and passed through. When he got inside, Cordelia was sitting at her desk with one of the weapons he had brought from Quor-Toth, the stake launcher in her hands. She seemed to be trying to figure out how it worked.
She looked up at him, taking in his burnt, bloody clothing as she swung out from behind the desk. "You failed." Her tone was odd, flat and devoid of emotion. She didn't seem worried and Connor couldn't understand how she could possible not be.
"No, we won." Connor went over to her, gently taking her hand. "The Beast is gone."
A strange look flickered over her face then she got up and gingerly hugged him. "Thank God."
"Has anyone tried to get in? The Beast said he was sending something to kill you," Connor said, glancing around the hotel lobby, even though he knew nothing had gotten past the protective spell.
Cordelia made a dismissive nose as if annoyed by his fretting. "Nothing's happened. It's been too quiet."
Connor nodded, pleased, then remembered who should be here and wasn't. "Is the green thing here?"
"Don't say things like that about your Uncle Lorne, Connor," Cordelia said and saw him scowled viciously. She gave him a look like a mother scolding a petulant child. "He's upstairs resting."
"You should be, too." Connor stroked her arm.
She moved back a step. "I'm fine…well, maybe not fine but I couldn't sleep, not knowing you all were out there fighting."
Connor frowned. Couldn't he even give her comfort any more? What had he done that was so wrong, that made her this mad at him? "Is that why you were trying to make that work?" Connor pointed to the launcher. "It's too heavy for you and it takes practice. I wondered where it was. Fred probably had it. She likes to play with weaponry. Is my axe still here?"
"You mean that blade on an arm-cuff thing? It's in that big box at the bottom of the closet. Fred did have it locked away. I don't think she wanted you to have them." Cordelia waved a hand at the weapons cabinet. Connor judged from her tone she agreed with Fred.
Connor frowned. "They're mine." He went and retrieved his blade, admiring the bronze-toned metal. He had missed his weapons.
"Where is Angel? Was anyone hurt?" Cordelia seemed almost hopeful at that. Connor turned at the out of place note of happiness and she quickly molded her face into one of concern.
Connor came back over to her. "We all got a little beat up but not too bad. The spell didn't automatically reverse like they thought it would. They're working on that now. I came here to make sure you're all right."
"So you abandoned them?" A horrified look flickered across Cordelia's bloated face.
Connor stared at her, not understanding the reproach in her tone. He couldn't follow how fast her emotions changed and he wasn't used to her criticizing him like this. "No. They're all together and they're fine. Someone had to make sure the Beast didn't send assassins after you. I can't help with spells so I ran here to make sure you were all right."
Cordelia ran a hand along the soft curve of his cheek. He leaned into it like a cat pushing into a soothing pat. "Did Angel send you?"
"No, but he would have sent someone." Connor shrugged expressively.
"Connor, you just can't run off on your own all the time. You have to be more responsible," Cordelia asked, poking his shoulder with a finger. It made his burns hurt. "You're not a child, so don't act like it."
He batted her hand away. "Don't poke me. And don't tell me what to do. One minute you tell me I am a kid the next you tell me to grow up. You're not my mom, Cordy. You never were, so stop acting like it."
She picked up the stake launcher, nudging him with it. "You have no idea about what you and I used to be to each other. I don't think it's much to ask you too act like an adult."
Connor yanked his weapon away from her and returned it to the closet, trying to give himself time to cool down. He could taste anger rising like bile in the back of his throat. How dare she accuse him of acting childish? "Cordy, I am acting like an adult. I came here to use my best talent, my fighting abilities. I'm where I was needed more. We had no way of knowing that you were safe. I should call Dad now and let him know."
"Yeah, do that." Cordelia made no effort to hand him the phone. She gestured at his bandolier. "And get rid of that nasty thing you have around your neck. I hate seeing it."
Connor stroked the bandolier, considering arguing, but he pulled it off and put it with his stake launcher. From his pocket he took out a hunk of the Beast's horn that he had scavenged when they were digging through its corpse bits looking for parts of the Ratet and put it with the bandolier. "Happy now?" he asked sharply.
"No, I'd be happier if you'd act like part of the team," Cordelia shot back, tossing her hair like she still had a long luxurious mane.
Connor rolled his eyes, sighing heavily. "Can't we just drop it? I came here thinking you needed help."
"You can't come riding to my rescue, Connor. I don't need it." Cordelia got so close to him he could feel her breath on his sensitive, burnt skin. "It doesn't impress me. It's over between us, you have to understand that."
"I get it, Cordy. That's not why I'm here." Connor glared at her. "Faith was right. You are a bitch."
Cordelia slapped him hard enough to split his lip. Connor fell back a step, stunned. He wiped his bleeding mouth.
"Never call me that," she said, her hand cocking back ready to deliver another blow.
"Don't hit me," he said softly, shocked and hurt.
She slapped him
again. "And that's for agreeing with Faith."
"I said don't hit me," he yelled this time then took a few deep breaths trying to puzzle things out. He couldn't wrap his mind around her anger. She seemed to hate him suddenly. Cordelia had never been so mean, not to anyone. Something was wrong. "Why did you do it, Cordy? Why did you make love to me at all?"
Cordelia laughed bitterly. "That wasn't making love, Connor. It was a pity fuck." Her dark eyes sliced into him. A strange, whitish glow seemed to radiate from them.
Connor took another wary step back. He remembered her glowing like this before right before she sapped all the strength from him when he tried to stab her. How could she say something like that to him? Pity? The words felt like a knife across the hamstrings. His legs nearly went out from under him. His throat felt tight, almost painful, as tears streaked down his face. "That's not true."
Cordelia shrugged, her glow brightening. Her body tensed, seeming more menacing then should have been possible. "Maybe not entirely. It was the best way to stir things up around here so no one could concentrate. That's what the boss wanted."
"What are you talking about?" Connor felt like he'd been dipped in ice water. He realized he had been used horribly, that the love he still had for her was wasted.
"The Beast was working for someone." Cordelia smiled shark-like, chilling Connor. "So am I. You weren't supposed to win tonight. I would have been there to help make sure you didn't but something happened that the First Evil didn't count on. Guess the demon in me wasn't enough to keep something like you from taking root."
Connor shook his head. "I don't understand. Cordy…you can't be…you betrayed us?"
She snorted, her glow flickering on and off like a dying light bulb. "Like it was hard to do. One good roll in the hay timed just right so dear old Dad could see, easy enough when you're a seer. Except this thing growing inside me made me too sick to help. There isn't anyone around just now to help me get rid of it so I couldn't be there for the big fight."
"You'd kill us?" Connor barely managed to rasp the words out. He stumbled back, feeling like the floor was tilting out from under him.
"Killing you all would be hard. The human part of Cordy is fighting me. She was so arrogant when she allowed them to make her part demon. Like this team couldn't make do without her visions. She thought she could control the demon. She was so wrong. Now she's trapped inside here with me." Cordelia grinned broadly. "Maybe that's why I couldn't stake Angel when I was crying on his shoulder. That's what I wanted to do, that's why I was boo-hooing in the first place. It would have been perfect. Angel would have been dust. You were still hiding out. They'd have blamed you and the group would have shattered."
Connor edged slowly toward the weapon's cabinet, hoping to get to a taser. He didn't want to have to hurt her. Once Dad got home they'd figure a way to separate the demon out of Cordy so they could have her back. She hadn't completely betrayed them yet and if he could keep her from doing it, everything could be made right again. "Did you kill Lorne?"
She cocked her head. "I was too sick to do it right so I slipped him some sleeping pills and sent him upstairs. I figured I could handle the others once they got home. I don't know if it's the illness or the human bitch in me fighting but I can't even work up a good glow and kick your ass." She reached down and pulled a knife out of her boot. "So I guess I'll do this the old-fashioned way; cut out your heart, drop the shields around the hotel and tell them the Beast's minions got you."
"Cordy, drop the knife." Connor eyed the blade wildly. He dropped into a defensive stance against an attack he couldn't even imagine happening.
Cordelia charged him. He easily sidestepped her thrust and he shoved her back. With a startled cry, Cordelia lost her balance and her head hit the edge of the desk with a sharp crack. She slumped to the floor, a halo of red spreading out around her head. The knife skittered under the desk.
"Cordy, get up," Connor whispered, feeling his legs nearly giving out. He knelt by her side, gently touching her face. "Wake up, Cordy. It'll be okay now. We'll help you." Connor gulped, feeling the fear welling up inside him. He couldn't hear her heart beat. She wasn't breathing. "Cordy, baby, wake up."
"What is going on down there?" Lorne called, rushing down the stairs. "All this screaming woke me…up." He stopped in his tracks, staring at Connor kneeling over Cordelia's body.
He looked up at Lorne, tears coursing down his dirty, burnt face. "She won't wake up. I didn't mean to push her that hard."
"What did you do, you little beast?" Lorne raced over. "Cordy, sweetie-muffin, I'll get…" Lorne swallowed hard, seeing the blood puddling under her head. "You murdered her."
"No." Connor sobbed, trying to lift Cordy into his arms. "She's not dead. She can't be."
"You killed her," Lorne insisted, his voice little more than a harsh hiss.
"No…I was just trying to stop her. She fell and hit her head. I didn't mean it." Connor buried his face against her shoulder.
"I warned them never to turn their backs on you. They should have listened to me." Lorne darted for the open weapons cabinet. "You'll pay for this. They should have sent you back to the hell you came from, you heartless monster."
"I didn't mean to hurt her." Connor gently laid Cordelia back down, stroking her blood soaked hair. She was alive and beautiful. He could see her glowing. The whole room seemed filled with light and the scent of roses. He could hear birds singing to her. He had to protect her.
"Liar." The sound of Lorne's voice darkened the room, took the life back away from Cordelia. Connor jumped to his feet, grabbing his bracer-axe.
Lorne snared a crossbow from the cabinet and shot at Connor. Using his axe, Connor slapped the bolt away. He crossed the distance to Lorne in one smooth jump. With one swipe of the axe, he took Lorne's head straight off his shoulders. Sliding the bracer-axe over his forearm, strapping it into place, Connor went back to Cordelia, crying so hard he couldn't see.
He fell at her side, lifting her. He willed her to live again, for the light to return. Nothing happened but a dull hum like bees inside his brain started overwhelming him. He cradled her to his chest, rocking her back and forth. The word 'sorry,' spilled from his lips in a never-ending chant to accompany his motion. He didn't even notice the front door opening.
"I can't believe that gang of vampires thought to use stop sticks to catch their prey," Gunn groused as he and Fred came into the hotel.
"I never thought we'd live long enough to run all the way here," Fred said wearily. "Cordy, are you… oh God." She dropped the spell books, seeing Connor holding Cordelia and Lorne's head off in a corner minus his body. "The Beast's minions made it through."
"No." Gunn gestured back at the front door and the spell wall beyond it. His eyes widened with realization. Gunn tasted vomit in the back of his throat. It was like reliving Alonna's death. Guilt for ever starting to trust Connor again overwhelmed him. "The spell was intact. Look at Connor's axe. It's bloody."
"Connor," Fred said, taking a step closer to Gunn. She nearly fell, she shook so hard. She could barely speak. "What did you do?"
Connor looked at them, still rocking Cordelia. "I forgot how strong I am. I didn't meant to push her so hard. I'm sorry."
"Sorry doesn't fix this," Fred said. She knew the look in Connor's eyes. She recognized sanity gone walkabout, having seen it many times in the human 'cows' in Pylea.
"And it doesn't explain why Lorne's head is half way across the room from his body, you little bastard." Gunn reached for his axe then remembered it was gone. He had had some spare weapons in the truck but they had used all their stakes and crossbow bolts on the way home. He raced for the cabinet. He made it before Connor could put down Cordelia and come after him. He slid a sword along the floor to Fred and took one down for himself.
Gunn didn't wait for Connor to explain himself. He saw the look in the boy's eyes, watched what sanity he had just moments ago draining away. He saw that something had died inside Connor, leaving nothing but unfocused rage. The boy growled like a feral thing. "Get him from behind, Fred," he screamed, swinging on Connor.
Connor leapt over the blade and kicked Gunn in the face. As he went down, Connor whirled and grabbed Fred's sword arm, snapping it like a twig. She shrilled as he shoved her off him. Gunn got up, bleeding heavily from his nose. His swing grazed Connor's side. The boy grunted, falling back.
"You hurt her," Gunn growled, swinging again.
This time Connor sidestepped and back swung with the bracer-axe. It cut through Gunn's sword arm. Gunn made a high-pitched animal noise as his hand, still clutching the sword, came free of his body in a bloody spray. Gunn hit his knees, vomiting.
"Charles!" Fred shrieked, fear rooting her to the flooring. The scent of terror made Connor smile widely, completing the mask of insanity he wore.
Connor hauled Gunn up with a hand under his chin. Blood from Gunn's flailing handless arm fountained in Connor's face. All he saw was red. He tried to tell what sort of demon this was. He could hear their cries thundering in his ears. He could smell Quor-Toth in the air. The sky roiled red, another storm was coming and these two strange demons had appeared from it. They called him Connor. Who was that? Where was Father? Had they hurt him? He didn't know. He couldn't even tell where he was. Was he in the caves of Anrel?
It didn't matter. The important thing was these beings were trying to kill him. He had to stop them. He slashed wildly with his arm, the blade on it biting into flesh again and again. The stronger of his attackers lay before him in pieces. He knew it was dead even as he kept hacking at it. He felt its blood and flesh hitting him.
Feeling someone coming up behind him, he whirled, his blade catching on the silver claw of the female creature. It snapped away. He heard her saying that strange name, again and again, pleading with him to stop. She was crying, telling him how she had loved him like a brother, asking him how he could do this. Some demons were like that, they could get into your mind and make you think they were your friends. Connor didn't even recognize Fred as he dismembered her. He needed to be sure she couldn't regenerate. Some demons could, after all. He tossed her organs to the Etuzzas he and Father kept as 'guard dogs.'
Soaked with blood –it ran in riverlets down his chest and over his face to drip from his chin - Connor limped over to Cordelia. Scent told him this was his mate. The fact that he hadn't had a mate in hell couldn't penetrate the maelstrom of madness raging inside him. Something had killed his mate, probably the demons he had just destroyed. He curled up around her, protectively, listening to the chewing of the Etuzzas as they devoured the treats he had given them. He heard Cordelia calling from a distance. It seemed so beautiful where she was, so soft and warm. He followed her in his mind, leaving conscious thought far behind.