Chapter Three

The morning light filled the skies of LA. As all the beautiful people waxed and purged, it was the start of another day of "helping the helpless" for Cordelia Chase, which of course she couldn't do without jelly donuts and a coffee. Since the powers-that-be had got their act together and half-demonised her, life had been much easier for her. Visions came sans the huge migraine and the blinding pain, plus she could levitate and help the lost and hopeless in a totally novel way. Cordelia had the ability to see into the souls of others in deep, deep pain and somehow soothe it. This she had discovered when Angel's son had tried to kill her. It was quite a handy gift really and had come in useful on cases over the last year or so.

Unfortunately, not when it came to her love life. Angel had last year, after Buffy's death and resurrection, and Connor's astonishing start to life, developed something of a crush on Cordy. Much to her deep chagrin, she had been utterly oblivious to it, thinking Angel had nothing but big brotherly feelings for her. Of course, it did not help that Fred and even Lorne were all on the bandwagon, telling Angel that he and Cordy shared kyerumption. As if! News to her. Angel already had a soulmate, and there was no way that she, Cordelia Chase, would be getting involved there. No matter how goofy Angel became, she knew that the big brooding guy was still in there, still brooding for his long-lost love, Buffy.

So when Angel had made the pass at her last year, it had all been very awkward. Cordy, having only developed very basic tact skills during her years in LA, was somewhat blunt. It was not fair to give Angel the wrong impression. He told her that he thought he was in love with her. Cordelia had laughed and laughed. Eventually, when she realised he was serious, she had stopped and told him straight it was crap. Angel had looked hurt, incredibly so, reassuring her from the bottom of his heart it was not. To that, Cordy only had one answer - Buffy. After that, Angel had gone very quiet, made his apologies and shuffled off, telling Cordy she had no idea what she was talking about.

At that memory, Cordy shook her head. Men could be so dense sometimes.

Bursting through the doors of the Hyperion, she breezily called out a greeting. When no one answered, a slightly miffed Cordelia glanced at the small clock on the wall. It was 9am. Usually Angel was up and about by now. Walking through to the office, rapidly losing the juggling act with her breakfast, her donuts and coffee hit the floor when she almost tripped over Angel.

"God!" she exclaimed, as she bent over him, roughly shaking him by the shoulders, "this is no place to take a nap, Angel. You nearly ruined my new shirt."

As Angel came round, he groggily focused upon the annoyed form of Cordelia, standing over him with her hands on her hips. "What's going on?" he rasped, his head thumping.

"I nearly tripped over you. You were totally out of it," Cordy told him. "What were you doing on the floor?"

Shaking his head, the memories still hazy, Angel attempted to stand up. As he lost his balance, Cordy grabbed him, guiding his large frame towards his big leather chair. "Wow, you really are out of it," Cordy uttered in concern.

"I feel really weird." He paused, uncertain of how to explain. "I'm pretty sure something's been done to me."

Cordy looked at him expectantly. "Like what?"

Shifting in his chair, his muscles aching, he said simply, "A spell."

Reaching for the phone, pouting slightly, she retorted, "Well, that doesn't tell us much, does it?" Then she dialled Gunn's number.

**********************

Twenty minutes later Lorne, Gunn and a highly concerned Fred were all gathered around Angel's desk. Although rather less unsteady than earlier, Angel was still slumped in his chair, looking rather less get-to-it than his normal self. So instead, in a burst of efficiency, Cordy had taken the helm, filling in the others on the little Angel had told her.

"So basically, that's all we got. Big guy here had a wig out and next thing he knows, his ass is in on the floor, he feels all weird and he's certain it's all because of a spell," Cordy explained, her words sharp more out of her irritation at being in the dark, than sarcasm. She looked keenly at the others, "So, any ideas?"

Gunn let out a long whistle, his usual poker business face lost for a second in utter perplexion. Taking a look at Fred's frantic expression, Gunn quickly jumped in, "Could take a look on the streets. Don't know what kind of juice you'll pick up there."

Seeing Fred's hopeful glance in his direction, Gunn inwardly beamed. He would do anything for this precious girl, his girl, anything to keep her happy. Touching his hand lightly, Fred chirped up supportively, "Oh, yes, me and Charles could go look up some contacts, see what we turn up."

Lorne regarded the normally on-the-ball couple in wonder at their huge omission, his green brow furrowed. "Aren't you kids missing the obvious?" he asked them bluntly. "Angel-cakes here has one big old law firm always willing to stick the knife in."

Angel wet his lips, surprised at himself for not thinking of it earlier. "Wolfram and Hart."

At that, Lorne let out an involuntary round of applause, but quickly stopped as Cordelia banged her fist on the table. "Yes!" she called. "That's it, it's gotta be them. Why didn't I think of that?"

Gunn gave her a sidelong glance, grinning at her evilly. "It's a tough job, being in charge. Hard to make the coffee *and* come up with the definitive answers." He teased.

Cordy scowled at him good-naturedly then continued, "We know it's them, but we know they did a spell. But we don't know what spell they did-"

"Or why," Fred added eagerly.

"So we really need to find out then," Angel said tiredly, his frustration at not being able to remember the night before clearly troubling him. He knew there was one detail he was missing, a vital clue. He searched his mind... Someone had visited him last night. He stood up abruptly, breaking up the excited chatter that had sprung up around him. "I remember something," he began. "Someone came to see me, I think they warned me..."

Cordy looked at him in askance. "Warned you? About what?"

"They said I had to watch my back." Angel stopped, the memory finally becoming clear. "It was Wesley."

Fred and Gunn exchanged confused glances. "Wesley? What has he got to do with all this?" Fred blurted out, unable to believe her former friend would become involved with something connected to Wolfram and Hart.

Angel did not answer her, instead walking out of the room.

"What are you doing?" Cordy demanded, already right behind him.

"Going to see an old friend," he told her firmly. "Alone."

Cordy shook her head. "You can't. Look at the state of you."

Angel stopped, turning to look at Cordelia. "I'm fine," he assured her. "I need to find out what has happened here. I need you here to research spells which might be used to weaken an enemy, specifically me."

Reluctantly Cordy stepped back. "Ok, but take care."

Angel did not hear her; he had already left for the sewers.

**********************

The early afternoon sunlight trickled down upon Buffy's face, as she made her way back to the mansion, clutching a fresh bag of pig's blood under her jacket. Without meaning to, she had ended up falling into a restless sleep at Angel's side and had spent the night there. Waking up at the break of dawn, Buffy had rushed out, first checking Angel was still sleeping and more importantly secure, knowing she had to get home before Dawn went to school. As the slayer, she knew she could easily explain an all-night absence, but she knew her overly curious sister would soon start asking awkward questions if Buffy stayed out any longer. There would be no such problem tonight - Buffy had arranged for Dawn to stay over at Janice's house. Buffy wasn't ready to share her new discovery with anyone just yet.

Making sure nobody was around, Buffy slipped into the mansion, carefully closing the thick drapes behind her. Gingerly approaching Angel, and placing the blood on the floor in front of him, she could not help but notice how even in the deepest of slumbers, he was unusually agitated, his body writhing against his chains. Her heart flooding with compassion, she gently stroked back his hair from his face, whispering to him, "Oh Angel, what's happened to you?"

At that, Angel's eyes flew open in wild terror, as he flung himself forward at the person he held responsible for his incarceration. A little hurt, Buffy tried to hide her feelings, pushing the bag of blood towards the chained Angel with her foot.

"Drink this," she told him, her voice breaking slightly, "you need to feed."

When he did not respond, glaring at her with the fury of a caged animal, she inched herself forward, keeping her movements slow and predictable, crouching and picking up the blood bag, then offering it up to his mouth. Hungrily he bit down on it, draining the bag of its contents in seconds.

Gazing into his eyes, Buffy saw no glimmer of the man she had loved; this Angel did not recognise her, just like the Angel who had returned from hell a monster. Instead of wallowing in self-pity, a new hope surged in Buffy. Maybe, just maybe, she could bring Angel back to sanity just as she had managed to last time. So taking the book of poems Angel had given her all those many years ago from her pocket, she began to read to him.

**********************

Trying to inwardly keep herself from smirking, Lilah confidently surveyed her colleagues across the boardroom. This was the big appraisal that only a day ago she had been secretly dreading; now she practically could not wait for it.

"Lilah, we hear that you have made significant progress with the Angel problem," stated her superior coolly.

Maintaining good eye contact with him, Lilah replied, "Yes, I have good reason to believe that we won't be having any further problems from that quarter for the foreseeable future." Allowing herself a small smile, she handed her superior a thick report. "You'll see from this that the spell cast should have already begun to turn Angel's humanity against him. He'll soon be right where we want him."

Skimming the summary with a critical eye, he asked flatly, "And how can you be so sure that this spell will have weakened him? Spells of this nature, spells of frailty, are well known to have unpredictable effects."

Slightly taken aback at her superior's attitude, Lilah swiftly assured him, "I researched this thoroughly. This spell was tailored to Angel. It's guaranteed to turn him into a guilt-ridden wreck, unable to fight any fight, let alone the good one. He'll be ready to give in to his true nature and be on our side. I'm certain it will have worked."

Handing her back the report, her superior regarded her witheringly, "We will see. You're free to go now."

Indignant at her dressing down, Lilah just about managed to give her boss a civil nod and leave the room without killing somebody. She could not believe this was all the thanks she received after all the hard work she had put in. She hated Angel so much, she just wanted to see his sorry ass disappear in a thick cloud of dust. Working for Wolfram and Hart however meant that was out of the question, worse luck...

As Lilah sat back in her car, rubbing her hands over her tired eyes, she was startled by a sudden hand on her shoulder. When she recognised the soft but firm touch of the hand, she relaxed. "Wesley," she crooned, "whatever could you want?"

Wesley glared at her, his grip on her shoulder increasing. "I just thought I'd let you know that your little spell hasn't worked," he spat at her venomously.

Horrified, Lilah turned round, her eyes burning into his. "What do you mean?"

Turning on a cruel smile, Wesley explained sardonically, "What I mean, dear, is that for all your scheming, you've landed on your arse."

Wesley went to leave the car, but Lilah grabbed his wrist and held fast. "Not so quick, Wes," she drawled, "we're in this together. And I know you British guys don't like to disappoint."

Knowing he was caught in Lilah's trap, Wesley gave in to his weakness and practically dragged her into the backseat with him. Pulling her down on top of him, Wesley wished that things were different, wished that he had other choices. Right now, this was it.

**********************

Buffy had lost track of time again. Sensing the need for her own rest, Buffy gently closed the book, and stood slowly. Although Angel was not asleep, he was peaceful now, and had been for the last hour or so. Gently placing a kiss on his forehead, Buffy promised him that she would return again tomorrow. Totally unresponsive to her, Angel stared dully ahead, as Buffy shook her head sadly and left.

Blinking back tears, Buffy did not notice the figure that stood watching her behind the stone statue. Stepping out into the moonlight, his cigarette blowing little waves of smoke into the night, Spike watched the upset slayer stumble away. Smiling somewhat evilly at her misery, Spike began to follow her, hoping she was up to something she didn't want her little pals to be knowing about. If so, he fully intended to use it to his advantage.

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