At the Hyperion, Wesley stood leaning against the front counter. A request for help was the last thing he had ever expected from Rupert Giles. Last time he checked, the man hated his guts.
He sighed heavily, memories of his Slayer flooding his mind and heart. 'I failed her. Rupert has every right to hate me.'
Closing his eyes, he pushed the painful thoughts from his head and tried to focus on his task. Research, research.
Angel came down the stairs then, Lorne in tow. The two demons had been trying to get Cordelia to leave her room since she'd locked herself in last night. Judging by the dejected look on the vampire's face, Wesley assumed they'd had no luck getting through to her this morning.
"How's she doin'?" Gunn asked, getting up from his perch beside Fred on the oval couch.
Angel replied with a shake of his head. Lorne gave them all a sympathetic smile. "The poor girl's frightened out of her wits. She said something about seeing a monster and then…well, she didn't really say much more than that."
"A monster? Did she describe it?" Wesley asked.
"She's not in the mood for talking," Angel replied as he sat wearily on the bottom step.
"Did something go wrong with the memory spell? I mean, more wrong than when we became high school kids again?" Fred asked.
"Couldn't tell ya, cupcake. At least, not until Cordy talks to us about it," answered Lorne.
The friends congregated in silence while each remembered the events of the night before…
****
When Cordelia opened her eyes, she stared at Lorne. Her eyes became round and frightened, and her mouth dropped open into a silent scream of terror. She turned on her heel and ran from the room.
They all stood in abject silence, confused by their friend's reaction to her regained memories. Upstairs, they heard a door slam, and they could only guess that she had locked herself in her room.
****
It's all been so confusing. First, I found out she'd disappeared. Then, she shows up in the middle of the Hyperion, in this heavenly white dress, and she has no idea who I am. Or any of us, for that matter. Now she's got her memory back, and she won't talk to me. I want to know what happened that night, why she never showed up to meet me. Whatever she saw, whatever took her, must have been horrible…
****
"It's not her fault," Angel said. The room turned to look at him, confusion on all their faces.
"She disappeared that night…something took her. She could be traumatized, and her amnesia could have been her mind's way of dealing with it."
Wesley nodded thoughtfully. "Yes, but, if that's the case, how did she end up here?"
****
When Cordelia opened her eyes, what she saw terrified her. It was a demon, all horned and evil. Flames licked at its body, and she felt the stifling heat of what could only be Hell.
She tried to scream, but she realized she couldn't breathe. So she ran, ran from the demon, ran for her life.
It chased her, feet pounding out a primal rhythm behind her. The white dress she wore was burning now, trailing fire across her body. She could smell the pungent aroma of burning flesh.
She was tired, so tired. Collapsing on the ground, Cordelia rolled on her back to face her attacker.
The horned demon stood before her, satisfaction and anticipation on its face. It stretched one of it's hands out to her, but she scooted away from it.
Angry now, it grabbed her legs roughly and dragged her across the rocky ground beneath them, tearing the skin off her back. Cordelia struggled against her attacker, ignoring the burns and the cuts on her body, trying desperately to free herself from its clutches.
But it just laughed and tore the remaining clothes from her weak body. It grabbed her throat and pressed her into the ground, then climbed on top of her.
"I am the Beast," it boomed as it spread her legs apart. "You are our toy, our vessel."
She tried to yell at him, to say something, anything, so that she could die fighting, if only with her words. But his hand on her neck prevented that.
A disjointed voice called her name, and she listened carefully.
"You will not die today, girl," it said. It was deep, yet distorted, like it was echoing through time.
"No, we have use for you yet."
The Beast began pounding into her, and the tears poured down her cheeks. She felt the voice enter her mind, just as the Beast had entered her body, and suddenly she was home again.
Her heart racing, her breathing deep and uncontrollable, Cordelia found herself lying on the floor of her room, staring at the ceiling. She tried to stand, but found she couldn't.
Her legs were heavy, her arms were numb, and suddenly, out of nowhere, the voice spoke.
"You will not die today, girl, but our plan will surely kill your spirit."
And then she was rising, her body moving without her commanding it to. Cordelia tried to move her hand, move a finger, but she could control nothing but her own thoughts.
Who the Hell are you?
"It doesn't matter who I am," the voice spoke. But it was no longer disjointed. It was her own.
"All that matters is…you're mine."
****
"I have no idea," Angel admitted, and fell back into his silently reverie.
"Well, I have some things I need to tend to," Wesley said as he turned to leave. "Call me if she decides to talk."
Fred nodded at him, and he left. She turned to Lorne. "Maybe I should try talking to her? Maybe she just needs a girl to open up to?"
****
Cordelia watched as the voice commanded her body around the room. It would go to the mirror and stare at it, as if taunting her with her own smug face. Then it would rummage through her pictures, reminding her of the people she loves.
At one point, it pulled a sort of crystal orb from her pocket and laid it on the bed. Cordelia could sense this thing was important to it, and wanted to smash it on the ground.
"Ah, ah, ah!" it taunted. "There will be no violent thoughts in this body."
A current of pain coursed through her being, blurring her vision and momentarily breaking her connection with the outside world. If she could breathe, she'd be screaming.
"Lesson number one," it whispered, "I'm in charge here."
Cordelia silently agreed.
****
"I think we should leave her alone for a while. When she's ready to talk, she'll come to us."
"Angel, are you sure? I mean, she could be trying to hurt herself in there!" Gunn argued.
"No. I understand what she's going through. I've seen…I've done…horrible things in my life. It takes a while to get over it. Just…give her time."
****
Time. Yeah, that's what she needed. Time to train, time to fight, time to work, listen, learn…
No, she'd learned already. Did it this summer. Alone. Always alone. She'd learned who she was, who she had grown up into.
Last year had been horrible. The things she said, the things she did…the people she hurt. Oh, God, and she'd hurt them good.
His bloody face, smiling up at her through the pain. You always hurt the ones you love. Yep, that's what she did, all right.
They always left her. That's why she hurt them. She knew they were going to leave. Her dad left because he didn't love them any more. Angel left because they couldn't be together. Riley left because she hadn't loved him enough. And Spike…well, he wouldn't leave, would he? Not even when she told him to. So she hurt him.
She hurt him enough to finally bring out the demon. And then he did leave. But not because of what she'd done, but because of what he'd done.
So he got a soul. So she could love him. But didn't he get it? The soul didn't matter!
She was incapable of love.
The jeep turned into her driveway, but Buffy just sat there staring up at her bedroom window. Taking a deep breath, she opened the door, and steeled herself to face the man that loves her.
But this time, she wouldn't hurt him. Only hold.