Severed Ties
Chapter 31
The Eyes of My Salvation
A/N: Major apologies for the delay but a bout of real life busyness, college football, laziness and just being plain stuck contributed to the tardiness of this chapter. I'm gonna shoot for a chapter a week from now on and will try my best to keep that. It should be easier since this chapter helped me focus on the major characters romantic attachments. The next chapter will be another feeling out of those not in here. Also, doubt if there will be another chappie quite this long. Well, enjoy. Feel free to rant after you're done.
He stared at the half-empty glass and frowned. The blood sloshed against the sides when he shook it and he purveyed the liquid with the scrutiny of a jeweler studying a fine diamond. Something was missing.
Searching the crypt with amber eyes, he smirked when his eyes fell on the missing ingredient. He set the glass down on the sarcophagus and retrieved the unopened bottle of Yaeger from its nest in the corner of the crypt. He'd hidden it there months ago, as a backup should he ever run out of alcohol and somehow it had been forgotten.
"Lucky find," he muttered and cracked open the harsh liquor. The scent burned his nostrils but the sting was welcome. Anything that forced the cold numbness that encased his being was encouraged; a night of violence at Willie's had only done so much. After he had torn the Fyarl demon's head off--a feat that even surprised him--there were no other takers for the soddin 'Slayer's lapdog'. Not even a quick patrol down by the docks had been enough to re-light the fire that generally coursed through his belly regardless of mood. But this separation from Buffy was beyond his abilities to cope and he'd wondered if he'd ever shed this miasma that covered him.
"You look like shit," a cool voice announced from the door. Spike chuckled humorlessly. He poured the alcohol into the glass of blood and, when the two liquids consolidated to one and nearly overflowed, he took a sip.
"Does it help?" Dawn asked and her heels clicked against the floor as she ventured deeper into the belly of the beast.
Spike eyed the strangely colored concoction and shrugged. "Doesn't hurt," he said and took a generous sip. As he walked towards the recliner, Spike risked a glance at his once Niblet--really couldn't call her that anymore, not with her hating his guts now, just like everyone else. He'd expected her eyes to hold the loathing and disgust they had a few nights ago but he was surprised when he saw an array of emotions filtering through her wide eyes. The anger was expected but the addition of confusion, fear and hope were not. There was a slip of something that tinged her retinas that he thought was guilt…no, it couldn't have been. He ignored the bloom of hope that sprang to life in his chest, and sat down in the chair with his back to her.
"So, Bit," he said, calling on the arrogant bravado that had sustained him for a century, "what brings you to my humble abode?"
"I was with…I mean…" Her nervousness bled through her skin and he knew exactly where she'd been but remained quiet. "I just came over to…everyone's pretty mad at you."
Spike couldn't hide the flinch and took a long draught from the glass to steady his nerves. He inhaled let out a steadying breath before replying. "Yeah, kinda figured that out already."
She imitated his gesture and when she spoke, even his vampiric hearing barely picked it up. "You're not gonna be coming around anymore, are you?" The accusation and sadness in her tone was like a cross held against his chest and not for the first time Spike was thankful he didn't have to breathe.
"It's…its complicated Bit."
Dawn laughed. The frustration was evident in her tone and he bit back what would have been an ill-timed chuckle. "Everyone always says that…"
"Guess it must be true, then."
"No, it's not," she said vehemently. "It's just that people make things complicated."
"So what's my excuse?" he asked, unable to keep the bitterness from seeping into his tone. "Considerin' the fact that I ain't a person." Her sighed echoed through the crypt and Spike tempered the desire to turn around. He couldn't look at her. Not now. He was barely holding it together as it were; to look at her now would replace the numb shell with the jagged points of his broken heart.
It was quiet for several minutes and Spike took the time to finish his drink. Ever since the episode in the alley he had had trouble holding his blood down. Bloody nerves, he thought. Rarely had he felt bad about anything and during the last few weeks he was thankful he wasn't cursed with a soul. If guilt was this bad without one, what the hell would it be like with one?
"Do you love her?"
Spike jumped at her voice and he slunk further into the chair. When he didn't answer, Dawn repeated the question.
"It was just…" He hesitated. It was just what? Getting back at her? Thinkin' with his bloody prick? "It was a bad day. I didn't go out to…"
"No, not her," she spat, then added softly, "Buffy."
How could she ask him something like that? Of course he loved Buffy, loved her more than soddin anything else. He would never…But you did, a voice sounded in his head. You wounded her more than Angelus ever did, more than her Da, more than Giles. He knew it was the demon, the vindictive occupant where his soul once resided, angry and upset at how she had treated him; not just in front of the wanker of a father but for the past two years. He'd forgiven her but the bastard of a demon hadn't forgotten.
"Then how could you do this to her?"
Spike shook his head and laid the glass down beside the chair. He leaned back and slung an arm over his eyes. "Question of the day, innit, Bit."
Dawn walked all the way into the room and stopped in front of him. Spike felt her gaze sear into him but he remained quiet. He was shocked when her warm hand pulled his arm away from his face and when he looked into her eyes and saw the tears welling in them, he couldn't hold the pain back any longer.
He didn't know how he got to the floor or how long he'd been crying. But what was more puzzling was the warm body that held him between its legs. It took him a moment to realize Dawn whispering comforting words in his ears as she stroked his back. Spike leaned into her embrace, thankful to at last have someone hold him. It had been too long since he'd been held and his spirit had atrophied in the short time without companionship. But now as Dawn tended to him and warmth that went further than physical bled from her, Spike felt his inner strength slowly return.
He pulled away from her and stared into eyes that weren't accusatory, not like they had been during his last visit to Revello. Although there was still lingering anger and disappointment in her black orbs, he also saw the love she still held for him.
"Feeling better?" she asked when he stood and wiped his eyes. He nodded and stamped down the urge to turn away.
"Yeah, thanks." He flopped back in the chair and stared down at the girl--no, young woman--that sat cross-legged in front of him with tear-stained cheeks. Her demeanor was nothing like the impulsive girl of last summer and instead held a patience that belied her age. When he looked at her, Spike felt naked but there was no vulnerability in it--an unexplainable peace possessed him and he knew that, with her, things would be all right.
As if reading his thoughts, Dawn said, "So, you wanna tell me what happened?"
And Spike told her.
~~~
It was the first time Faith had been to Sunnydale Towers and--at the singular glance at the outside of the condos--she was impressed. Even from a distance the grounds were immaculate. The grass and bushes were trimmed perfectly and the trees in the background looked as if they'd been painted onto the canvas. The wall-sized windows reminded her of some of the higher-class housing she used to envy growing up in Boston. She'd told herself that once she made Captain--oh, yeah, she wanted to be a police officer--she would have a penthouse with windows like that so she could overlook the city she was sworn to protect. Unfortunately things didn't work out that way.
She walked up to the gate and glanced down at the piece of paper left for her at Buffy's. When they'd reached B's house, their first destination had been the kitchen. Giles had been dozing on the couch, waiting to tell them of his new lodgings. He also informed the slayers that no one was around; Jay was MIA (as usual), Willow and Tara had gone to a movie, and Angel and Cordelia were at the hotel. B's Dad had left a message to call him and Faith saw the glint of hope that shone in her sister slayer's eyes. As bad as Hank had been to B and Dawn, the blonde still had hope of her dad being there for her and bratty sister. So they had talked a bit about deadbeat parents, since Faith never knew her papa dearest but her mother was quite the dead beat. The brunette felt the pull of Buffy as she told Faith her fears; it had been wonderful yet scary. She wasn't sure where this thing between her and B was going. Sure, they were getting along now but what would happen after they dealt with this threat? Would B just ship her off, say thanks for the help, don't need you anymore? It was a possibility and, considering what she had done to B in the past Faith wouldn't really blame her if she did. When the time did come and the danger passed, she would deal, but for now she and B were five-by-five.
After they had talked, B went upstairs to call Papa Summers and Faith decided to crash Watcher's nap. That was when he gave her an envelope from Xander. She'd opened it and found the directions to this place, a 5-digit number and a key along with another 3-digit number. She'd asked Giles what it was for but he only shrugged, relaying Xander's message that he had a surprise for her.
So here she was, in front of one kick ass living complex. Running a hand through her hair, Faith stared at the closed gate for a minute before her eyes found the keypad on the wall.
"So this is what the numbers are for," she muttered. "But which one?" It didn't take long for her to decide on the longer code and she tapped it in. The audible click that followed the last entry signaled the correct entry. She pushed open the gate and stepped through, allowing it to drift close of its own accord. She walked down the main path and looked at the signs before glancing back at the paper.
"Room 112," she said and laughed. "Somebody's been listening to Bad Boy." The thought of the group's music and imagining that tasting 'Peaches and Cream' was just the thing Xander had in store for her made the muscles below her waist tighten. It had been three days since they'd fu…made love and that itch that needed to be scratched was starting to thump-thump to the point where she had been close to attacking him. But Faith had surprised herself with her own self control and she and Xander had spent the last few nights cuddling in silence.
"But I sure as hell ain't cuddlin' tonight," she said as she stood in front of the given room number. She raised her hand to knock but the door opened just before her knuckles rapped on the wood. She peered into the darkness but…it wasn't really dark. She hesitated and when she couldn't pick up any hints of danger, stepped over the threshold. She gasped when strong hands gripped her waist and pulled her against an impressive erection.
"Looks like somebody's glad to see me," she murmured and ground her ass against Xander's crotch. He moaned and his hands slid underneath her shirt, igniting a trail of desire that would only be quenched when he pushed his cock inside of her.
"And considering the, well, considerable wigglin that lovely ass of yours is doin, I'd have to say the same thing about you."
"You got that right, lovah boy," Faith said and whirled around, pushing Xander against the door. Her lips claimed his in a violent kiss, but it melted into something too tender for Faith to describe but she didn't care. As much as the rough stuff turned her on, she couldn't help but love the soft, easy lovemaking that Xander introduced her to (Corn-fed so did not count) and she wanted to die every time he entered her. But when their orgasms approached and he called her name, nothing had ever made Faith want to live like that. She wanted to feel that now, needed to feel it but refused to part her lips from his. She didn't need to, however, as Xander picked up on the hint. His hands cupped her ass and she hopped up, wrapping her legs around his waist. She didn't know where he was going to but she didn't care; she'd let him lead and as long as she ended up by his side.
Of course, the 'by his side' bit was gonna be preceded by some mind blowing sex and lovemaking, but who was counting?
Faith's hand slid up and down Xander's chest and the young man pulled his lover closer to him. He wasn't sure how long they laid there but it was all good to him. The last few days hadn't been easy, they hadn't had time to delve deeper into their budding romance but it'd been necessary with the footwork he'd had to do. That was over, however, and now he could hold the woman he…his woman in his arms.
"So, X-man," Faith said and slung her leg over his waist, "wanna tell me what all this is about."
"I would," he gasped, "but that thing you're doin' down there, kinda making it hard to focus."
Faith glanced down at Xander's erection and he moaned when her hand clasped over the erect shaft. "Oh, I'd say something's hard, all right. "
"You just have that effect on me."
"I know I do." Faith kissed Xander's chest and one hand stroked his bearded face. "So you say you can't think with me doing this?"
"That about sums it up."
"So, this has to be taken care of before you can talk…"
"I didn't say thaaat…" But cohesion of thought dissipated as Faith took him into her hot mouth.
Fifteen minutes later, the two were splayed in the same position as before. And despite the distant stirrings of arousal (he didn't know if it was Faith's appeal or the little extra DNA inside him that cut his refractory period in half--but he wasn't complainin' about that) Xander was focused enough to get past his need for his slayer.
"Anya."
Faith stiffened and Xander cursed himself for such blatant stupidity. He stroked her back for several moments until she relaxed and kissed her on the forehead before looking into her dark eyes.
"Sorry, baby, that's not what I meant." He anticipated a defensive response but was surprised when she smacked him lightly and snuggled further into his embrace.
"It better not be what you meant, punk." Xander chuckled and Faith dug her fingers into his ribcage. "Enough all ready. I'm dyin' over here; tell me what's up with the pad."
All joviality drained from his body and Xander pushed the lingering pain over losing his former fiancée as far down as he could. "When…when Anya died, I split town after her funeral. I didn't wait for anything, didn't tell anyone about it. Don't know how, but I found myself in Mexico."
"And that's how you got all super-X."
"Yeah."
"Baby," Faith said and sat up. "I know you told me all about the elf guy that took you on your new path, but when are you gonna tell the others?"
"Later," he said. The fact that no one had yet cornered Xander about his newfound power, he knew he'd have to tell them all soon. And he would, when the time came but now--now he had to get this out.
"The thing was," he started, "when I left, I didn't get a chance to go over Anya's will. It wasn't until a few weeks ago, when I ran into our lawyer that I remembered. He told me to come by his office the next day and that's when I found out."
"Found out what?"
"That Anya's investments had more than tripled in value while I was away."
"Whoa."
"Tell me about it. She'd already had quite an impressive net worth when we were together. Of course, being Anya, she never really told me just how much she had in the first place."
"Got love those fantastic significant other surprises."
"I'll say," he said and caressed her lips with his. "So, what I found out was that Anya still held share in the Magic Box, but that part Giles knew about. In event of her death, she transferred her shares over to him."
"So why haven't we been meeting at Casa Summers instead of there? Wasn't that like you guys' old meeting spot?"
Xander shrugged. "Guess Anya also put in a request for certain modifications that Giles only got around to approving last month. It should be ready in the next couple of weeks."
"Good," she said, and rolled over, stretching out over Xander's body. "Cause I was a bit tired of the Kumbaya gathering in that living room."
"It was kind of cramped, wasn't it?"
"Cramped? Hell, that was worse than the pit of an apartment I lived in back in Boston."
"Well, baby, you won't have to worry about that anymore."
"What do you mean?"
Xander's eyes roamed around the room. "Well, didn't you check out the digs?"
"Uh, that's where this whole Q&A started. And you still haven't gotten to the point yet."
"My bad if I'm longwinded. Giles must be rubbing off on me."
Faith ground her hips into Xander's groin and he moaned. His hands reflexively grasped her hips and she ground against his pulsing manhood. "This is rubbing off, baby."
"I can see that, but if you want me to ever get to a point, you may wanna slow down."
Although she grunted her disappointment, Faith complied. Xander took a few minutes for the blood to return to his brain and when it did, he stared at the woman in front of him.
"You're so beautiful, you know that?"
Faith blushed but tried to hide it behind a casual smirk. "Perk of bein' a slayer. Anyway, you're stallin'. Get with it, boyo."
"Yeah, well. Besides the Magic Box, Anya took it upon herself to rent out this condo."
"But didn't you guys have a place already?"
"Well, yeah, but she knew me better than anyone. She knew I'd give up our place if something happened to her. I couldn't live there without her, it'd be too painful."
"So this is your place, now?" Faith asked softly.
"Not quite."
"What do you mean?"
Here goes, Xander. He took a deep, much needed breath and cupped his slayer's face between his hands. "I don't want it to be just mine." Faith's eyes widened and she tried to pull away. Xander refused to let her go. "Don't run, sweetie," he whispered. "Please, don't run."
"I'm not…" she trailed off, dropping her eyes and fixed her gaze on his chest. "I just…don't you think it's too fast?"
"What? You think I'm asking you to move in with me?"
Xander squirmed when Faith's eyes, full of hurt, met his and he kissed her soundly. "Sorry, baby, didn't mean to tease you."
Her brow furrowed. "What do you mean?"
"You're right, I do want you to stay with me. I said that because…"
"Because what?" she said and twisted out his hands. "You wanted me to make a fool of myself? Well, good job, X, you did that." Xander sighed in frustration as Faith stalked around the room, throwing her clothes on. When she finished dressing and put on her boots, Xander finally jumped off the bed.
"Faith, I'm sorry." She pushed him away but he knew she didn't put her full power into it. Slightly encouraged, he grabbed her by the waist. "Don't go, please."
"Don't want to be around the incredibly Amazing Asshole."
Xander laughed. "And I wonder why I'm falling in…" Two sets of dark eyes met and Xander's heart plunged at the fear and hope that twinkled in Faith's eyes.
"What were you going to say?" she asked and her throat bobbed nervously.
Xander closed his eyes and said a prayer before catching Faith's gaze. "I was gonna say I wonder why I'm falling in love with you."
She shivered at the words and her hands snaked around his waist. He saw the words on her lips but he waited for her to fight through the anxiety. "You…you're falling in love with me?"
"Yeah, I am."
"But what about Anya? She's only been dead a few months."
Xander tensed but forced the tightness in his body away. "To you guys she's been gone a few months. But to me…to me she's been gone three years."
"Oh," Faith whispered. "Forgot about the wacky time warp thing."
"The point is, Faith, I've always been drawn to you and…"
"But how can you forgive me for trying to kill you?"
Xander's hand stroked the wild mane that was her hand and drew her closer to him. "Didn't we go over this already?"
"Xander, I'm serious."
"Look, Faith, I'm gonna say this one more time and I don't want to repeat it again: I forgave you a long time ago. Doesn't matter if you think you don't deserve it, in truth, none of us really do. But we get it all the time from the people who care about us. Why? Cause they think enough of us to have--well--to have faith that our mistakes, big or small, will ultimately make us better people…better friends…better partners…"
No more words were spoken as Faith plundered Xander's unsuspecting lips. It took him a moment to respond, but when he did, he put all the feelings about Faith that churned within into the gesture and they again lost themselves to the ebb and flow of easy lovemaking.
Afterwards, when Faith slept, Xander's mind continued to pour over his words to her. He truly believed that some things people did were beyond forgiveness but they were absolved notwithstanding. The thing was, though; that those closest to him received his absolution while those not as close garnered no such consideration. It was grossly unfair but only natural.
"Doesn't mean I can't change that," he whispered. Faith stirred and Xander brushed his lips across her cheek before settling in next to her. As he started to drift, he realized that since his voluntary exile, his disgust with a certain pair of vampires had dissipated. Oh, he still didn't like them but it wasn't because of their nature. Still, their nature was what had blinded him to the need to give them forgiveness. Xander didn't know if it was the demonic essence inside him or having time to think about it all, but one thing that gave voice in his head was that forgiveness was not something reserved for those you cared about and loved: it was for everyone.
And when someone didn't ask for it, well, that was the time they needed it most.
~~~
Opening the door with care, Angel slipped into the hotel room. The television was the only thing on and its light accentuated the sleeping form in the bed. His eyes traced her curves, so pronounced that even the comforter couldn't mute her goddess physique. The familiar stirrings in his belly as his eyes lingered on her hips brought him back to reality. He tore his gaze from Cordelia and walked into the room, silently fastening the lock on the door. He turned his back to the bed and he removed his coat and boots, placing them on the chair under the window. He grabbed the curtain, intending to close it when the bright shine of a streetlight caught his attention. It was nothing special, really, but at the brief glance it had reminded him of the platinum head of one screwed up and sinfully annoying vampire.
"Get a grip," he admonished quietly. When he'd left Spike's crypt, Angel had been intent on driving straight here. Something about the younger vampire had made him want to see Cordelia; to feel her hot skin against his chest as they made out, then slept. The thought of her lips on his stirred something he thought dead three years ago when he left Buffy. He needed to know that she was there for him even if his mind already knew that she was. But as he approached the hotel, he wavered. Spike's words had stung Angel, undoubtedly what the blonde had intended--that barbed tongue was as lethal as its owner, striking out blindly but with a quickness that was hard to avoid. He couldn't blame Spike, especially when the younger vampire had learned it from him. So he had passed the hotel and drove around for a few hours, allowing the cool night air beat against his face as he sped through the outskirts of town at triple digit speeds. It was something he seldom had time to do in LA but it was a balm of sorts; out on the open road, no companion save for the whirl of thoughts that poked and prodded at the thin walls that held his confidence together. The demon--Angelus--had rallied at Angel's doubt, thanking the hell gods for the chink in his capture's armor.
His thoughts were interrupted when two arms snaked around his waist. He sighed when Cordelia laid her cheek against her back. Her warmth, even through the cotton shirt, was enough to salve some of the tension from his muscles. He covered her hands in his and leaned against her. It was a submissive gesture, something he'd never been too good at, with or without the soul. He wasn't sure how many times he could give himself up like this, but tonight was the night where he needed someone else to be the strong one.
"You were kinda spaced out over here," Cordelia said. "I called your name, you know."
Angel shook his head. "Sorry. Didn't hear you."
Cordelia's hands caressed his shoulders and she turned him around. Her eyes, so dark, stared through him and Angel lowered his head, afraid to uncover himself to her so naked. If she saw what was behind the soulful façade, she would run screaming in the other direction.
"Hey," she said and Angel shivered as the warmth of her breath against his flesh. She gripped his chin and forced him to look at her. "I'm right here. Talk to me."
Angel clasped his hand in hers and ushered her to the bed. The short walk felt like an eternity as his mind drifted over the fears that sharpened themselves across his soul every second.
They sat on the bed and Angel stared straight ahead, resisting the temptation to glance at Cordelia, whose eyes bore into him. She squeezed his hand and Angel returned the gesture, thankful for the strength such a simple act had given him. Without preamble, he told her everything; not just his conversation with Spike but his fears and insecurities that had started nearly three hundred years ago with the strained relationship of his father. As the words spilled from his mouth, the room fell away and his mind replayed the events of his life. There was so much he wished to do over, so many times he'd disappointed people; his family, Darla. Drusilla and Spike. Buffy. It seemed that his entire existence was built around the false shield he projected as strength when, in truth it was the brittle foundation of his confidence. It was difficult to maintain but easy to erect the façade; no one ever knew how weak he was. Oh, he tried to convey his knowledge in the matter to Buffy years ago but she was too stubborn to listen, forever believing in the stalwart persona of her knight. How she'd been deceived and, ultimately broken, by the farce of a man she had fallen for. So young, so precious, she had captivated him at first sight and it was because of her that he'd started on his road to redemption.
"No, Angel," Cordelia said softly. He craned his neck to look at her and was startled when he saw the tears that trickled down her face. "You didn't start it because of Buffy."
"Yes I did," he whispered. "If it wasn't for her, if it wasn't for Whistler showing her to me, I'd still probably be in the streets, feeding off dead rats."
Cordelia's harsh laughter protracted a frown from the vampire and Angel eyed her gruffly. "Glad I could amuse you."
She sobered but there was no apology in her glare, only disbelief. And sadness.
"You don't get it, do you?"
"Obviously I don't," he replied and started to get up but Cordelia's hand wrapped around his wrist. His first reaction was to pull away and he was surprised when her grip remained steady.
"Sit down." Angel almost laughed at the order but something in her eyes halted any defiance on his part and the vampire took his place by her side.
"Listen to me, Angel," she said and grabbed his hand in both of hers. "I don't know where you got these crazy ideas from about not being good enough…"
"I didn't say that."
"Didn't you? Before you were a vampire, you were constantly seeking your father's approval. Afterwards, Darla's. You left Buffy, not because you wanted for her to have a normal life, but because you thought you weren't good enough for her."
He opened his mouth to protest but the validity of her argument snaked its way through any of his rebuttals. He'd told Buffy he wanted her to have the things a normal girl had but he wasn't stupid. Not only would her life be short because of her Calling but also being Chosen would prevent her from enjoying the normalcy of a teenage girl.
Angel's free hand covered his eyes as the familiar sting of tears crept from the background. He stifled the urge to let them go and inhaled sharply.
"Angel, look at me," Cordelia said and squeezed the fingers of his left hand. Reluctant eyes fell upon her and he bit back the cry that threatened to erupt under the nakedness of her gaze. "You are a wonderful man. You hide behind this wall of stoicism to close off what you feel but I know better. I can see you, the real you."
"If you really do," he said, "it's a safe bet you don't like what you see."
"I don't," she admitted, "I love it. I love what I see," she reiterated when his eyes widened. "You know why? I see a man who, despite the good he does, can only think about doing more. And before you say anything about the Shanshu, I know even without it, you would still fight the good fight. Yeah, you may have started this fight for Buffy, for the girl that you fell in love with, but that will only takes you so far. Even when you thought you were doing it for her, at some point you started doing it--not for yourself--but because you knew it was the right thing to do. You knew that you could make a difference."
"Cordy…" he trailed off, his voice rough with emotion and his lips occupied by the gentle kiss of the woman beside him.
"You've made mistakes, Angel, just like all of us. I know you've done things that you're ashamed of, things that I can't imagine but you know what? I don't care."
"But Angelus…"
"You're not the only one with a monster inside of you; yeah, yours may be more experienced with the carnage and death, but we all have that darkness, Angel, we just don't like to admit it to ourselves."
"But the soul is the only thing that keeps him at bay," he protested weakly. "Without the curse…"
"I don't care about the curse. Yeah, your soul makes you Angel but that doesn't mean that there isn't some part of you, some good part of you in Angelus."
"Trust me when I say there's not. You have no idea how bad he is, what he would do to you if he ever…" But he couldn't finish. Oh, Angel knew exactly what his soulless alter ego would do to Cordelia were he ever to break free. He would laugh at every scream, every tear filled plea; it would only drive him to further cruelties and…
"Don't think about that, honey."
"How can I not? You don't know how many women I…violated before I got the soul. You can't imagine their screams and--I think about being with you, Cordelia--really being with you, and the only thing that stops me from taking you is imagining what Angelus would do to you. I couldn't risk that…"
Cordelia smiled and, without warning, threw her leg over his lap and pushed him down to the bed. His reaction was immediate and the denim pants rubbed uncomfortably against his now throbbing erection. He moaned when she started to move above him and her lips planted delicate kisses up and down his jaw line. He fought back the moans that sprung from the furthest depths of his need and sketched her curves with his hands.
"What are you doing?" He asked, searching for the breath he did not need.
"I want to show you that we can do things to make us feel good." Her voice trembled and the scent of her arousal clung to his nostrils. Although he tried to understand her initiation of this, the sensations and his own need far outweighed her logic.
"I…I love you, Angel, I really do," she confessed, never slowing her ministrations. "That means that I will do everything I can to help us truly be together. And until we find that cure, I'm gonna be right here, right by your side. I know you're not a monster but a man and I will give you everything it is that you need." Her body tensed and Angel knew what was next and he swallowed her scream before it penetrated the air. Her orgasm rode the planes of her body and Cordelia trembled and minute gasps eschewed past their dueling tongues. He rolled them completely on the bed and to their sides, cradling her shaking body in his arms.
"Sleep," he whispered when her tired eyes looked up at him, begging to say something. "We can talk tomorrow." She nodded before closing her eyes and she was asleep within five minutes.
Although he was far from satisfied, Angel felt just fine. He held in his arms the woman he loved and, though they had yet to finish all of what needed to be said, there was time for that later. In fact, he knew that as strong as she was, Cordelia was terrified at the open admissions from the night. They had come closer the past several weeks but had not shared such an intimate conversation, not even the first night they'd nearly made love in this very room. They were in uncharted territory and both were uncertain how to navigate the dangers of becoming too caught up in the moment. The consequences were not lost on them and Angel knew with an unquestioning certitude that were he ever to harm this beautiful creature next to him, if his soul was ever returned, he would walk into the sun.
No you wouldn't, a voice inside him whispered. As much as you love her, you wouldn't do that. He didn't try to argue with the voice because it was right. As much as it would hurt, as much as he would want to die, he would stay alive. Not for the punishment of guilt that would be nearly unbearable, but for the fact that, as Cordelia had said, he did what he did because it was the right thing to do.
Angel stared at the content look on Cordelia's face and laid a gentle kiss on her brow. Her words had opened something in him--a door he thought forever locked. He'd never thought himself a good man but she had shown him that, despite the demon raging inside of him, he--Angel--was a good man. For the first time he truly felt like a hero, all because of a woman who had been by his side for the last two years. A woman he'd only seen for the first time a few months ago.
He only hoped he could show her the rest of what he had to offer because she truly deserved it. But even if they never found a remedy to the curse, he wouldn't run this time. He'd done it once with Buffy and though his heart still ached for putting her through such pain, he couldn't help but be glad. After all, she had found Spike and, though things were rough now, he knew they'd find a way to work it out. And Angel…
Cordelia snorted and he adjusted his hold on her. Yeah, things had worked out for the better. Buffy had gotten the one person he knew was her equal in every way and it just so happened that Angel got his own little slice of heaven in Cordelia Chase.
Before he allowed sleep to claim him, Angel chuckled. In three centuries he'd still not been able to predict what life had to offer. Even when things seemed bad, they still had a way of working out for the best.
~~~
Dawn said nothing throughout Spike's confession. He spilled his story to her without pause, his watery eyes fixated on the stone floor between them. She had tried to remain calm but when he had gotten to the alley BJ, she had snorted in disgust. Okay, so it was not the best thing to do--she wanted to smack herself when Spike recoiled in shame but she couldn't take it back. She urged him to continue and he did. She frowned when he told her about waking up in the crypt and Dawn studied her best friend--was he still? --searching for something--anything--which could alleviate even a portion of his culpability.
So when he said, "There ya go. The whole soddin story in all its lurid detail," Dawn was stunned. "Wassa matter, Bit? Vampire got ya jugular?"
Dawn shook herself, clearing the miasma that drifted between her thoughts. "I'm sorry, I just thought…"
"Just thought what?" Spike asked not too gently. "Thought someone spiked my blood? Or maybe put the whammy on me? Sorry to disappoint, luv, but seems that's the only thing Spike's good for." He stalked towards the half empty bottle of liquor and downed half of it in one swallow.
"That's not true."
"Isn't it?" He threw the bottle against the crypt door and Dawn shrieked at the explosive violence from her best friend. It was a part of him she had never really seen before and her heart almost stopped when she stared into the game of William the Bloody. "Take a good look, Bit. This is what I am: a demon. You know what a demon cares about? Itself. No friends or family save for its Sire. Not a human lover, especially not a slayer or her brat of a sister and annoying friends. And a demon will shag when and where it wants, got it?"
She wasn't sure what it was but her fear was ripped apart by the searing claws of her anger. "Who the hell do you think you are?"
"Just told you," he replied coolly. She was dimly aware of his lost fire but her own burned so bright that she paid no heed to it.
"What? You're this big bad vampire? Is that what you are? Please, you haven't been that in a long time."
"Hey--"
"You've been so much more than that."
Spike shrugged. "You didn't seem to think so the other night. Slapped me good, you did."
A portion of Dawn's indignation died with his quiet objection and her cheeks reddened in shame. "I'm sorry about that, Spike, I am so sorry."
"Ain't we all," he muttered and leaned against the stone sarcophagus. "Ain't we all."
"Talk to her," Dawn said after several minutes of silence.
"Why should I? She won't listen to me and I don't blame her."
Dawn sighed, her frustration at Spike's stubbornness slipping through the cracks of her surprisingly calm veneer. "Will you give this self-pity thing a rest! We screwed up, Spike, all of us; me, Buffy, Giles…Jay."
At the mention of his daughter, Spike's eyes lit up but he said nothing. "We judged you without hearing the full story and even if it's not what I wanted to hear, so what? You made a mistake. Who doesn't?"
"Yeah, but I…"
"Are you sorry?"
He frowned. "What?"
"Are you sorry you did it?"
"God, yes, Nibs," he said, exasperated. "When I think o' how I 'urt my Slayer, I just…" He wiped at his eyes.
Dawn stepped in front of Spike and forced him to look into her eyes. She felt an unfamiliar stirring from within and her skin hummed from the contact with the vampire. From the frozen look on his face, Spike felt it too and for an instant Dawn she understood exactly what he was feeling.
"If you're sorry, what's the problem? Make amends; don't wait for her to come to you. You know how stubborn and stupid she can be."
Spike chuckled, the first genuine laugh since she'd been there. "Yeah, the silly bint."
"Please, Spike," Dawn said, turning the mood somber once more. "Don't let this grow into something you two can't get past. And the longer you guys let it linger, the harder it's gonna be.
"I know it's not fair, you having to always be the one to bridge the gap but…"
"But in this case, Bit, I'm the one who cocked it all up. So I should be the one on my knees."
Dawn said nothing because he was right; Spike had screwed up. Well, at least he hadn't screwed the biatch that made the move on him, that would have been infinitely worse and would have complicated things beyond the telling. As it was, she was slightly icked by his honesty (and thinking of putting a guy's--thing--in your mouth, very ewwww) but it wasn't too unforgivable. Not saying that it wasn't majorly gross and boneheaded, but Buffy had to forgive him for it, didn't she? Angel had killed Ms. Calendar and they all forgave him. So what was a little…well, she really didn't know what to call it, just that it wasn't near as bad as killing people!
"Well," Dawn said, and picked up her bag, "guess I better get goin'."
"Not so fast, Platelet," Spike said and snatched his duster from the couch. "Not gonna let you go out there and get snacked on."
"Come on," she said. "You know I got the Emerald power--"
"Sorta like 'girl power', eh?"
"--and I can take care of myself."
Spike walked past her and opened the crypt door. "Too bad, Bit. Looks like you're stuck with me."
The teen rolled her eyes and stormed past the smirking vampire. He closed the door and fell in stride next to her and although she was annoyed with his protectiveness, a bigger part of her was elated. Not just by his watchdog behavior but for the first time in weeks, his cocky gait was back. There was no mistaking the tension in his shoulders but at least some of his confidence was back. He was going to talk to Buffy tonight; she knew that even if he hadn't told her. And while Dawn knew it wasn't gonna be a quick kiss-and-make-up situation, this was the first step towards the two getting back together.
Her mood lightened and Dawn snaked her arm around his. He stumbled in surprise but soon fell back into stride. Dawn couldn't hide the smile that split her cheeks; her best friend was back and this time she swore that this time, she would make things right with him. The only low point was the bitch that had come on to Spike. Dawn made a silent promise to herself and to Buffy that if she ever found the trollop, that bitch's ass was gonna burn.
~~~
One of the biggest advantages of having a slayer and vampire as parents, Jay thought, was the ability to remain supernaturally quiet when one wanted to be alone and sit in front of the telly and veg-out at two in the morning.
Thank god Rupes is gone, she thought and splayed out on the couch. The Watcher had decided earlier that day that one more night on the couch was "completely unacceptable" and he'd packed up and headed to Sunnydale Arms. She had thought about doing the same thing but considering that her income was precisely zero that option had been closed down. So what does a slayer/vampire hybrid do when she wants to be alone? Well, for one, the 'tude had been a very positive (or negative, depending on how you looked at it) deterrent from prying eyes and even more prying-er (okay, so that wasn't a word…) questions. It wasn't that Jay didn't have anything to say; she had plenty. The problem was that the multitude of questions, doubts and curses that threatened to rupture her neural pathways and fry her synaptic connections until her body feel into neural shock and they had to throw her in stasis to…
"I have got to stop watching this," she said and switched from the Star Trek marathon she'd been watching for the past three hours. On her umpteenth perusal through the channels and coming to the decision that nothing of interest was on, Jay stopped clicking on the Discovery Channel and closed her eyes as the host murmured--in a deep, sensual voice, of course--about the ruins of Belize, or some other unimportant country.
Her mind wandered to the past week and a half, something she'd been unable to not do since her father's confession. An unexpected chill slithered up her spine and she bit her lip to maintain a semblance of dignity. Wouldn't do her good to scream in frustration and have Mummy dearest and the wonderful Wiccas to come running down, now would it.
That wasn't fair, Jay knew that, but she had trouble maintaining her composure when the gang looked at her with any type of sympathy. That's why she patrolled from dusk till dawn on most nights, releasing the tension and pain the safest way possible. Well, that and the tattoos and piercings that now adorned various portions of her tiny frame. The latest ran down the side of her right arm was one word: trust. Written in Gothic, it epitomized what it was that was missing from her life. The one person she trusted, that never disappointed her had broken something with his actions or, more to the point, his complete lack of denial. As much as his silent confession had hurt, when he turned from her something inside Jay withered.
She hadn't seen him since.
"Good riddance," she muttered and instantly regretted it. As much as Daddy had hurt her and Mum, Jay still loved him more than anything. Every night she had fought the urge to go to him, tell him he was forgiven. Must be Mum's dominant stubbornness gene, she mused and got up off the couch.
"I've gone this long without seeing him," she said and paced the living room, "what's a few more days?" But even as she asked herself that question, Jay knew that she needed to see him. She'd always been Daddy's little girl, always been up under him every time the three of them sat around, having a family night. His arm was always around her and the chill of his skin, which was partially offset by her Mum's warmth, comforted her. How she loved those simpler times.
How she wanted them back.
You can get it back, a voice said from the frazzled tangle of her thoughts. As soon as she honed in on it, it fell silent, but that was enough for her to know what it was saying. It was up to her to bridge the gap. Her Dad may or may not have done something wrong--she still held out hope that he'd been duped, even if no one knew--he was still her father and she was still his girl.
Decision made (quicker than she would've thought) Jay crept to the door, slinging her duster on and she glanced at the steps, thankful that no one had come searching for her in the past three hours. Part of her was saddened at her Mum's lack of concern but she knew that wasn't true--Buffy'd been the first one in her face every time she came home, worry etched around those hazel eyes.
Can't think about that right now. With a last look at the steps, Jay opened the door and ran into a familiar body. It fell to the ground on impact and she swore, closing the door before any more sound alerted the others.
"What the hell?" she said at the figure on the ground. It--he, from the sound of it--moaned and Jay bent down. "Are you okay, dude?" When she saw the puncture wounds on his chocolate skin, Jay knew he was far from all right. But when he glanced up at her, his face a trophy of pain, Jay knew that she herself wasn't all right.
The fact that it was CJ didn't register. Nor his arm that was twisted at an odd angle or the myriad of cuts and bruises that marred his face. She didn't see any of that. All she saw was the hazy green that flecked across brown eyes, eyes she would never forget. Eyes of a person, a thing that she feared more than anything. Eyes of a thing that she prayed she'd never see again but often thought about.
All her slayer instincts froze at the eyes of her former tormentor and Jay did the only thing she could.
She screamed.
TBC in…Connections