Severed Ties

Chapter 17

Solitude

May 19th, 2002

The transition from darkness to light was an arduous journey, filtered with several false starts, his body's discomfort luring him back into the peaceful depths of unconsciousness, where time and feeling had no meaning. He had no doubt that the peace was fleeting and that he would soon have to leave it behind. He had a job to do, friends to help and no way was he going to be caught sleeping on the job—figuratively, and literally, speaking.

The atrocious pun was enough to jar him the rest of the way awake. At first, everything was fine. His body was somewhere down there but his attention was on the intricately carved patterns of, well, the nothing that lined the ceiling. Okay, Xander, quite stalling, he thought and sat up in bed, now well aware of his vigorously protesting muscles. The pain that shot up his spine was terrific and it reminded him of the agony that had ripped through him when he had been infused with the Elwvenian spirit. That pain had been welcomed, as it blocked out the grief of Anya's death.

Xander closed his eyes, biting back the tears that routinely formed at the thought of his dead fiancée. He hadn't spilled a tear since that night in the Bronze when he held her lifeless body in his arms for the last time. He...

He cursed at his traitorous thoughts, not wanting to travel down that path and instead focused his mind on its initial topic of interest. Like the ex-rogue slayer that had kissed him last night.

Oh, he had no doubts that it was Faith that had touched her lips to his as he wavered between states of consciousness. He could still taste the peach tang of her lips and his thoughts traveled back to a time when it had just been him and her in her motel room. The way she felt, the way she moved…

Okay, Xan-man, no more thoughts about the homicidal ex-slayer, he thought. That road only led to bad and worse. Still, it was hard to ignore the plaintive whispers that had resonated from her last night. Even being half-conscious, Xander was well aware that the kiss she had bestowed upon him was a desperate plea for forgiveness.

He shivered at the thought and ran a hand through his unruly hair. It wasn't that he held a grudge against her because, you know—well, actually that wasn't true. It was kinda difficult to forget the last time he had been alone with her, coming to her motel room to act the hero. He had only ended up almost getting himself raped (though he would have capitulated willingly to her sexual demands any other time) and killed and it had been one of the few times he was thankful for Soul Boy's help.

"Can't think about that now," he said to the empty room and focused himself on getting up. He swung his feet off the bed, praising the stars for accelerated healing. Although he still felt as if a mobile home had been hurled atop of him, the agonizing firing of his nerve endings had died down to dull shock.

"Gotta love those aspects of demons," he said, and stood. His leg muscles vehemently objected to his brain's twisted logic and Xander fell back onto the bed. "Just what I meant to do." He repeated the action and stayed on his feet a bit longer before plopping back down onto the mattress. Frustrated, he flung his head back onto the bed and stared at the ceiling. He ignored the tangible desire to be out of this bed but it would take a few minutes. As part of him focused on reintegrating his muscles into working order, the conscious part of his mind meandered back to the presence of the rogue slayer that had kissed him just a few hours ago.

As much as his faith in the justice system was, well, faithless, he doubted that an admitted murderer would be set free no matter the good behavior and license plates she banged out as penance. With that possibility squashed, he turned to the other two possible explanations. Either 1) the Council had seen to her early release because of some impending apocalypse, which wasn't good or 2) she had broken out of jail due to her own motives, which, quite coincidentally, was not of the good, either. Couple the fact that she had been in Buffy's house, most likely with the slayer's knowledge, Xander could only assume for Buffy to accept Faith into the folds things were not heading in the direction of peachy.

The thought of another impending disaster on its way to good old Sunny D and his mentor's words blessed Xander with the energy he had been seeking. Without hesitation, he rose to his feet, swaying slightly before regaining his balance. The pain had lessened even more and when he took his first step, his muscles only trembled slightly. Xander reached the door and, as his hand clasped the knob, his eyes fell to his attire, which consisted of his boxers and a tank top.

"I don't think they'd appreciate the half-naked Xander tumbling down the steps," he said, and cracked a smile for the first time since stepping foot in Sunnydale. He searched the room and found his clothes neatly folded on the chair near the closest. He slid into the black pants and slipped his arms into the matching shirt, not bothering to button it. Putting on his boots was a bit more on the difficult side and he winced through the entire exercise. He saw that someone had left his weapons here and he instinctively reached for them, and quickly dropped his hand. As much as he wanted to carry them, they weren't necessary. He was in Casa de Summers, after all; what could possibly go wrong here?

"Famous last words," he said, and hobbled to the door as the boots rubbed against his sensitive feet. He turned the knob slowly and slipped through the door. He crept through the hallway and to the steps. Although he knew stealth wasn't needed, a part of Xander wanted to get a feel for things before introducing himself to the public. Moreover, what better way to do that than to play a bit of 'I Spy'?

Of course, seriously doubting the stealthage at this particular moment in time, he thought ruefully. He sighed at the indecision that coursed through his bones and, for a brief moment, he was the inadequate Xander of old; no super powers, no special skills; just the ability to crack a joke or get in a predicament to be rescued from. He shook his head, banishing those insecurities and that life that had been buried when Anya had been laid to rest.

The slam of a door caught his attention and, ignoring subtlety, Xander walked halfway down the steps when another thump sounded, this time from the living room.

"I am afraid," he heard Giles say, "that we may very well have an apocalypse on our hands."

Xander lowered his head and chuckled. What could possibly go wrong, you say?

Unfortunately, the Watcher had just answered his question.

~~~~~

Angel heard Cordelia before she even opened the door. She didn't knock and Angel didn't mind, especially since he had left it unlocked just for this reason. His back was to her and he debated whether to acknowledge her presence or feign sleep. Opting for the latter, he buried his head further into the pillow, ignoring her silent footfalls and then the slight creak of the bed as she laid down on the edge. Tension radiated from her and for good reason. Despite giving Buffy his blessing only minutes before last night, after seeing the way his ex had looked and cared for Spike, Angel had withdrawn from everyone. That had included Cordelia, whom he had ignored during the subsequent drive to the motel.

There was no getting around it; he behaved like an ass. And this cowardly act, not really me. He had seen the hurt in her eyes when she suggested they get a double and his subsequent dismissal. He had only told her it wasn't a good idea before walking off to commandeer two rooms. He had quickly barricaded himself in the room, disregarding her knocking about an hour after he had settled in. She left but not before imparting some colorful advice to him. The distinct slam of her own door echoed through the walls and Angel cursed himself for being so callous and broody. Not too long after that, the vampire had unlocked his door on the off chance that she would revisit him later, his attitude notwithstanding.

Cordelia sighed and Angel stiffened. What was it about her that had him so skittish? He loved working with her and they got along fine but when it came to personal time, words failed him. Like now, when he knew that an apology was in order, he couldn't get himself to turn over and face her.

You're the champion of the Powers and you can't even face your friend to say 'I'm sorry'? What is wrong with you?

So lost in his thoughts, Angel didn't sense the brunette closing the distance between them until her arm was draped across his stomach and her warmth pooled against his back.

"So," she said brightly, "are we still in our 'pissed-off-vampire-with-a-soul' broody mood?"

Angel chuckled and twisted his body enough to catch a glimpse of her face. From his position, her eyes sparkled with mirth and for a minute, he could forget the pain that had been in them last night after his rejection and the fear that had greeted him right after her vision. He wanted to remember her like this, as he had no doubt that the coming months would be sparse in levity.

"Yeah," he responded after several minutes, "the brooding has taken a back seat to the ever present 'feeling like a fool' syndrome."

"Well, good, cause after last night, you should feel like one." He tensed at her words and Cordelia tightened her grip. Angel forced himself to relax, something that was difficult considering the slight arousal he had noticed wafting from Cordy as her breasts crushed tightly against his back. It had the same effect on him as well, his excitement pressing uncomfortably against the denim of his jeans. Think bad thoughts, think bad thoughts, he coached himself; the last thing he wanted was for her to discover his…situation.

Spike…Buffy and Spike…Buffy and Spike naked…Buffy and Spike naked, having sex…

As much as the thought of the two blondes having sex pissed him off, the image of their beautiful bodies moving rhythmically as one only intensified the burn in his lower abdomen. To top it off, Cordy's hand was moving dangerously close to the redline as her fingers idly thrummed past his waistline.

"Cordy…I, uh, I wanted to apologize for last night." It took the self-discipline he had acquired in being around Buffy without having her that kept his voice respectably steady. Still, the urge to turn over and ravage the seer refused to diminish.

Cordelia kissed him on the back of the neck and pressed her cheek firmly against the newly baptized skin. "It's okay," she said, and he felt her lips curl into a smile but just as quickly as it appeared, the smile was gone. "I know it was hard--seeing Buffy with Spike."

"It was," he said.

"Wanna talk about it?"

Angel immediately opened his mouth, ready to deny Cordelia's request but he knew she would be hurt even more at him closing up even more. He had kept nothing from her the past few years and if he did so now, it would only make things strained between them. Aside from that, he needed to share it with someone else.

"When we were outside," he began, "we talked about it. About what happened between her and Spike. After that initial shock of seeing them together at the door--smelling what they were doing before they opened it--it hadn't hurt as much as I thought it would."

"Doesn't mean it still didn't hurt."

"Touché."

The hand that wasn't resting against his stomach stroked his head. He leaned into her embrace as her fingers danced through the waves of his dark hair. Her other hand traced concentric circles around his navel and the tension in Angel's muscles systematically evaporated.

"So what did you two ex-love birds talk about?" Though her tone was line, Angel caught the underlying apprehension in her words. Without thinking, his right hand found hers and, taking advantage of her surprise, he intertwined his fingers with hers in an attempt to lend her support.

"Well, my original plan was to give her a list of reasons why Spike wasn't good for her but…"

"But what?"

"But talking to her, about how he was there for her after she came back and knowing what I know about him…" Angel trailed off again, the words stuck in his throat.

"Angel," Cordelia murmured and cradled his head in the crook of her elbow, forcing him to look at her. "What is it?"

"As much as I hate Spike, I can't help but think that he's the better man."

She frowned at his admission and Angel sighed. She wouldn't understand it, even if he tried to explain, so why try? He had once told Buffy that it was the man, not the demon in him that needed to die. If a soulless vampire could love Buffy more than Angel--love her enough to go against his nature, then what could Angel have ever provided?

"You know," Cordelia whispered, her lips noticeably closer to his face, "you may be right. Spike may be the better man--" The lingering stab of pain that had started in his gut two days ago intensified and his mouth went dry. If it had been someone else that had agreed, Angel wouldn't have minded much--but Cordy saying it was like a stake to the…

Angel turned over and Cordelia yelped in surprise. His face was torn through the middle with a scowl and his hands held her shoulders steadfast. "What did you just say?" he asked, not believing what he'd just heard. For a moment, he was sure Cordy had said…"

"I said that you may be right and that Spike may be the better man. For Buffy." His shoulders slouched at her reiteration, disappointed at what his ears had hoped for her to say. His eyes fluttered closed but they shot open when he felt the softest of kisses grace his lips. He drank in the site of her, his sense going haywire at the amorous scent of her arousal wafting through the air. Her heartbeat, fast and strong, exploded in his ears and the dilation of her pupils confirmed what his other senses were screaming.

"But," she said, interrupting his thoughts, "you are the better man for me." Angel's eyes widened and the seer chuckled, running a single finger down the side of his face. "You are beautiful, you know that?"

The soft-spoken admiration was enough to jar him back into reality. His lips curled in a smirk and he trailed two fingers down her cheek. "That must be your reflection you're seeing, then." He stifled a chuckle when she rolled her eyes, a direct contrast to the flush that singed her cheeks.

"Oh, shut up, Romeo and kiss me." She didn't wait for his response and, instead, attacked his mouth with a ferocity that startled the vampire. Her tongue invaded his mouth and it was all Angel could do to keep up. His hands slid up and down her body and, for the first time he realized she was wearing a silk nightie. A very thin, very short, silk nightie at that. He couldn't help but think that she had done it for him but squashed the idea immediately. It was Cordy, after all, she of the keen fashion sense and…oh God, did her hand just slide down there?

Angel growled when Cordy's hand sneaked past the defenses of his jeans and grasped his manhood with surprising strength. They never broke the kiss and her boldness gave him confidence. Without a second thought, the brunette vampire's fingers skimmed the inner part of her thigh and, pushing the thin material of her panties to the side, entered her throbbing center.

"Angel," she cried at the penetration and clutched him tighter. He murmured her name as his tongue trailed a path down her neck. He nibbled at her jugular with blunt teeth and Cordy moaned her satisfaction, her delicate hand stroking him even more urgently. It was taking every ounce of self-control for him not to rip her clothes away and plunge his aching cock deep into her. However, he couldn't risk it, although the reasons for that were quite hazy at this particular moment--especially considering the bliss that threatened to engulf him at having this beautiful woman in his bed and the lewd suggestions and pleas that climbed out of her throat.

Bliss…

Realization slammed into the soulled vampire and Angel immediately withdrew himself from her. He saw the confusion in her eyes, having him by her side one moment and in the blink of an eye, he was halfway across the room.

"Angel?" Her voice was husky with desire and when she tried to sit up her limbs trembled with unfulfilled desire.

"We--can't Cordy," Angel whispered, his voice shaky with emotion. "You know we can't. The curse…" She furrowed her brow but he saw the instant that she realized what had nearly occurred.

"Oh my God, Angel, I am so sorry." Tears tore through the need written in her eyes and the salty liquid poured down her cheeks. Angel didn't hesitate, rushing to her side.

"Shhh," he said, and pulled her close to his chest, "it's not your fault."

"But it is…I didn't even think about it, all I wanted was you and if you hadn't stopped it, we--" She trailed off and just as lighting was the parent of thunder, her tears gave birth loud, gasping sobs.

Angel said nothing, not trusting his ability to offer words of comfort. Instead, he relied on the strength of his arms to keep her from drowning in her own sorrow. He understood where she was coming from, the part of one's self where, despite the possible consequences of an action, one didn't care as long as the need for the action was fulfilled. It had been like that for Angel his last year in Sunnydale. He knew that one night of passion with Buffy would unleash Angelus yet part of him couldn't have given a fuck. To have the love of his life so close and not be able to join with her had been a greater torture than his time in Hell. It wasn't the sex that brought him to that moment of happiness but letting down of his guard for one moment. It was something that, surprisingly hadn't happened when he held Connor and Angel knew the reason. There was not a single time that he glanced at his son that he didn't wonder what the PTB's would do to take Connor away. It had been ironic that, despite that fear, he had started to relax more around the infant, take Connor's birth for what it was; a miracle. It wasn't until Holtz had fled to Quortoth that the vampire had realized just how close he had been towards meeting that happiness clause. Still…

He turned his attention back towards the sniffling woman in his arms. Her sobs had slackened to nothing although her tears continued to soak his shirt. One of his hands that were stroking her back moved to her face and he lifted her chin. He stared into the eyes of his best friend, a woman that was as tough as anyone he had ever met. She had fought against the forces of evil for six years without the advent of supernatural powers, facing danger without so much as a second thought. Rarely had he ever seen her so distraught and it unnerved him. She must have saw it in his eyes because, in the next instant Cordelia graced him with a brilliant smile.

"My make-up must be ruined," she said, and Angel shook his head in amusement. He leaned his forehead against hers and inhaled. Her scent was a mixture of sunshine and roses, an elegant cliché, but true all the same. The simple thought of her fragrance revitalized his member and he maneuvered away slightly in order to put distance between their lower bodies.

"What? Joe Cool doesn't trust himself?" she teased, and Angel smiled.

"With you? Not a chance." Her smile vanished at his confession and Angel pulled away enough to take in her features. He wiped the drying tears away with his thumb and, after that was accomplished, tipped her chin upwards and caught her lower lip between his. It was a brief kiss, chaste yet salacious, a promise of things to come. When their lips disengaged, Cordelia sighed.

"You know," she said, her eyes fixed on his chest, "I don't know what I'm more ashamed of. Getting possessed by the hormone brigade or…"

"Or what?"

"Or hoping that if we did get busy with it that it would be enough to awaken Angelus." The last part was said as a whisper but Angel heard it clearly enough. As bad as it may have sounded, he understood where she was coming from. After all, what would that say about his love for her if she couldn't offer him that singular moment of happiness?

Did I just say love? the vampire thought incredulously. Was it possible that that was the reason it hadn't hurt quite as badly between he and Buffy this time? Angel ran over the events from the past several months--every time something happened, his first thought was to tell Cordelia. She was always there for him, as a friend, but there was something far more reaching in their relationship. When she had been seeing Groo a few months ago, it had hurt him so badly but he had never said a word. And, despite feeling bad when Groo had left not long after Connor was born, Angel couldn't deny the relief that the other man had gone. He had felt guilty about that for quite sometime but Connor's apprehension had wiped all thoughts of that particular guilt away.

Quit being the soddin' poof that you always are, he heard a familiar voice whisper in his mind, and admit it; you love her. He repressed the sound of Spike's voice in his head but not the words spoken. It was something that Spike would say, being that his talent, aside from annoying the hell out of Angel, was seeing the truth behind any façade. He had done it with Angel and Buffy and, although he wasn't here now, part of Spike's insight had clearly rubbed off.

The epiphany was like an explosion in his brain. All doubts and reservations were obliterated and, although a part of him would always love Buffy, she no longer held his heart. That honor went to this extraordinary woman in his arms.

Angel kissed Cordelia once more, holding back a smile at her surprised gasp. When he pulled back, her eyes blackened with desire but understanding as well. He lay back against the pillow and pulled her close. Her head rested comfortably on his shoulder and her hand idly traveled up and down his torso.

As much as he wanted to declare his feelings for her, something held him back, whispering that now wasn't the time. He reluctantly agreed although he gave thought to her confession about wanting their consummation to be that perfect moment of happiness. Angel smiled. It may have been too early to declare his love for her but he could give her something…

"I have no doubt that he would, Cordy. I have no doubt that he would." She didn't reply but did snuggle a bit closer towards him. Soon, all that was heard in the room was Cordelia's even breathing, a sound that lulled Angel into the welcome depths of slumber. As he finally drifted off, Angel reminded himself not to get too happy; it wouldn't pay losing his soul by simply holding the woman he loved in his arms.

No matter how perfect it felt.