Cordelia woke up in a warehouse of sorts. Her head was pounding, there was blood crusted to the side of her face, and she couldn't see because her hair was swinging in front of her eyes. She could just begin to make out shapes, and saw a human one moving around in front of her. Faith. Great. One thing that hadn't changed. Except, what was happening to her was supposed to be happening to Wesley. And Wes hadn't said anything about being suspended from a ceiling by chains. That was a very Spike like thing to do.
"Oh good. You're awake. Now it's time for the fun to begin."
Cordelia swung her head, painful as it was to get her hair out of her way. She made a mental note to get the haircut over with sooner than she was supposed to. "What do you want Faith?"
"I think you know exactly what I want. You, and Angel, and Wesley, and I guess even that pathetic little half demon, dead. Guess I just didn't get over the your friends putting me in a coma thing. And it was fun and all, screwing Buffy's boyfriend, and making Spike think she was interested, but that's all over now. And it got boring anyway." Faith picked up a knife. "So far torture's never gotten boring. Let's seen how long making you scream can interest me."
Cordelia knew exactly what Faith had done to Wesley. Knew it would probably be worse for her. She and Faith hadn't gotten along nearly as well as Faith and Wes. "Well, I think you'll find it's gonna be a little harder than normal to make me scream. After all, I've done quite a bit of growing up since we last saw one another."
"Yeah, yeah, whatever. You'll still scream. And it'll be fun." Faith slowly drew the blade down Cordelia's cheek, barely breaking skin with the knife. A small line of blood appeared, but Cordelia didn't move. "And physical abuse isn't all, honey. I know things you could only dream of. I met up with a few contacts while I was in LA. I'm gonna tell you things you wished you didn't know."
"Like what?" Cordelia spat viciously. "I think you'll find I know a little bit more than you think I do."
"Okay then, we'll start with that. Your little half demon, boy toy. Let's start there. He's only a half Bracken. A lowly Tracker demon. He can't even do anything spectacular! And did you know that he's married?"
Cordelia nearly threw up, but kept her face straight. Things were going out of order. Harry hadn't come yet. And Cordelia, though she knew it was irrational, felt the same stab of betrayal in her chest that she had felt the first time around. And if Harry hadn't come, had the Day that Wasn't come too? Cordelia couldn't remember, but then, she wouldn't anyway. Angel hadn't gone to Sunnydale at Thanksgiving. He'd wanted to, but Doyle and Cordelia had managed to talk him out of it. And Buffy hadn't come. Which meant they still had that little drama to go through before things got on the right track.
"Okay, that doesn't upset you, how about this? I screwed Xander's brains out your Senior year, and you never even knew about it. How's that for a surprise?"
"I already knew that, actually." Cordelia said nonchalantly, testing the length of her chains. They were holding her about twenty inches off the ground, and if Faith turned around, she might be able to get enough momentum to swing herself into the Slayer. And if she could knock her out, she had a chance at figuring a way out of the whole mess.
Faith's fist across Cordelia's face shook her out of her trance. One punch was followed by another, until Cordelia was bleeding and trying not to cry. She could feel her face bruising, could feel blood trickling from her nose, lip and forehead. Faith picked the knife back up and slowly shredded Cordelia's shirt. "I am going to make this hurt. And I am going to like it." She said menacingly, drawing the blade down Cordelia's ribs. The pain was sharp, cutting. The gash was deep, would probably need stitches. More blood. Faith turned to her table full of torture devices.
That was her chance. Cordelia threw all her weight against the chain, swinging herself slightly. Faith was studying her selection. Cordelia swung harder. And harder, until she was high enough she could hit Faith rather hard. When the woman turned around, Cordelia's feet charged into her face, and she flew backwards, hitting a pile of boxes that made a pile of wood fall over onto her. She didn't get up.
Thank God. Now she had to figure a way out of her predicament. She was chained to the roof, a good twenty feet above her head. Her hands were in shackles, tightened painfully around her wrists. But that was okay. Cordelia was strong. She could lift herself using just her hands. If she could lift herself using the chains, she could pull herself out of Faith's grasp. There was a second story about ten feet up, with offices. There was spare chain bundled at the top. If she could pull it down, she might have a chance at getting to a phone.
Satisfied that it was her only chance, Cordelia began the task of climbing. She didn't have a lot of time. Faith could wake up at any moment. Slayers weren't notorious for staying unconscious long. And Cordelia knew she hadn't been able to put enough power into her kick to keep her out more than fifteen minutes or so. The time she had would have to be enough or she was as good as dead.
It took a good ten minutes to get to the second story and swing herself onto that platform. She yanked on the chain and pulled in down from the ceiling. She had about thirty feet of slack to move around. There was an office directly in front of her with a phone on the desk. She charged the window, burst through it in a shower of glass and splintered wood. She landed on the desk, the chain pulled taut.
The phone worked, to her immense surprise and delight. Her fingers shook, raw and bloody as she dialed Angel's cell phone number. He answered on the first ring. "Hello?"
"Angel." Cordelia gasped.
"Cordelia? Where are you? What's going on? Are you okay?"
"I'm fine for now. I knocked Faith out. But she won't be out long. I'm in some factory. It's in Santa Monica, I can hear the ocean. It's right beside the sea. Lots of really big windows. Plenty of sunlight. You have to tell Doyle and Wesley where I am. And get them here soon. If she wakes up and gets to me, I'm royally screwed."
"I'm on it." Angel said, and hung up. He dialed Doyle's cell phone. The half demon answered on the third ring after a brief search for the phone.
"Doyle here."
"Doyle, it's Angel. She's in an old factory by the ocean in Santa Monica, and you have to hurry. Faith's unconscious and she's managed to call me, but I can't get there without bursting into flames."
"I'm on it. I'll get her as soon as I can," Doyle said, and hung up, holding up a hand to hail a cab. He jumped into the back seat as soon as it rolled to a stop, "Santa Monica pier. An extra twenty if you make it in five minutes."
/
/
By some miracle, he ended up with a cabbie that could've won the Indy 500. He was at the pier in five minutes, though he didn't really know how. Doyle paid the driver and took off toward the only unused factory on the pier.
/
/
Doyle, for only the second time in his entire life, willingly switched into his demon visage and entered the building. He would need every advantage that he could get.
Faith was just climbing to her feet when Doyle walked in the door. She looked a little bruised, a little woozy, and Doyle knew Cordelia had done a number on her. He picked up a board and smashed it into the back of her skull, using every ounce of his strength. The Slayer sank to the floor for the second time in less than twenty minutes, unconscious yet again.
"'Delia, you in here?" Doyle called, and he heard an excited yelp.
"Doyle! I'm up here."
Doyle looked up and saw Cordelia on the second story of the building. She was bruised and bloody, but alive. "Are you okay?"
"I'll live. Find something to get me out of these shackles with and get your ass up here."
Doyle grinned. She still had that bossy attitude. He looked around and saw a pair of heavy wire cutters. Picking them up, he made his way up the stairs and over to Cordelia. She was watching Faith carefully. The Slayer was beginning to move, her eyes opened.
"Hurry. She's awake." Cordelia said and Doyle grabbed her wrist. He used the wire cutters to break the closest links to her wrists and pulled the chains out.
"That'll have to do for now. Let's get you out of here." He said, grabbing her around the waist and hustling her toward the stairs. She held on to him, her balance seriously off, unable to steady herself. Faith was blocking the door by the time they got to the bottom of the steps.
"You two aren't going anywhere. I am going to enjoy hurting you both very badly." Faith growled, picking up a wicked looking knife. "Did you really think that you could get away from me?"
Doyle shrugged. "It was worth a try. But I guess I'll just have to go through you."
"You're even more stupid than I thought you were. Surely you know that you can't defeat a Slayer."
"Well, normally, no, lass, I couldn't. But see, these aren't very normal circumstances. You've spent the last few hours torturing my girlfriend, and that doesn't make me happy. And you're a little injured yourself. I think I can handle you."
"Well bring it on, demon boy."
Cordelia managed not to look surprised at Doyle's face as he changed. Faith didn't manage to hide her surprise as well. She had assumed that Doyle would be unwilling to show his demon side. What she hadn't considered was how much he was in love with Cordelia. What he would resort to in order to keep her safe. And that was whatever had to be done.
Faith threw the first punch. Doyle grabbed the Slayer's fist and twisted her arm, but Faith came up and kicked Doyle in the stomach, making him stumble back a few steps. She tackled him, making a severe tactical error. Doyle locked his arms around her waist, dragging her to the ground with him. He outweighed her by forty pounds or so, easily held her down. He sat up slightly, holding her in place with his hips, a little amazed by how easily he had been able to subdue her.
Faith struggled briefly while Doyle's hands closed around her throat, pressing against her air pipe hard enough to cut off her supply of oxygen. He wasn't going to kill her, he just wanted to make her pass out. Then he would tie her up and take her to Angel. Angel could do with her what he wanted.
When Faith finally slipped into unconsciousness, Doyle let her go and stood up. Cordelia was at his side with a bundle of rope in only seconds. Together, they tied the Slayer up, and then Doyle picked her up. "We'll take the sewers back to the office and the I'll take you home. No cab driver would pick us up the way we look right now."
Cordelia nodded and opened the back door. It had begun to rain, so there were no people on the street or beach. She walked as quickly as she could to the sewer entrance and pulled it open. Doyle went down first with Faith, then reached up to help Cordelia make her way down the ladder.
/
/
Cordelia picked up a pair of scissors from her vanity and raised them to her hair. Doyle was sitting on the edge of the bathtub behind her, watching. Strands of hair fell into the sink as Cordelia cut it. When she got it all evened out, she laid the scissors down, and joined her boyfriend on the bathtub.
"One hell of a day, huh?" Doyle asked, pulling her close. She laid her head on his chest and let one hand rest on his thigh.
"You have no idea. And then Angel wants to try to rehabilitate Faith. That's gonna be fun. I don't think I'll go in for a few days."
"You don't need to deal with the stress." Doyle agreed, kissing the side of her head. "Never scare me like that again, okay?"
Cordelia laughed. She had bruises galore and two relatively deep cuts, one on her cheek and one down her ribcage, but she wasn't badly hurt. "I'll do my best." She agreed, rubbing her scratched, raw wrists absently. She turned her head to look at the clock. It was ten. "I think it's about time to head to bed." She told him, standing and pulling him up.
"Maybe I should sleep in the guest room." Doyle suggested, as she began to guide him toward her bedroom. She was shaking her head before he finished the sentence.
"No way. Y'know one thing that the last two cases have taught me?"
"What's that?"
"You have to live for the moment. Come on, Doyle, let's go to bed." She pulled him close to her small body, her lips barely brushing his. "Let's live for the moment."
/
/
So they walked into her room. And Cordelia initiated the first kiss. It was deep and a little rough, passionate. He wrapped his arms around her waist, holding her close, and her small hands worked the buttons of his shirt. She slid it off his shoulders, ran her fingers over his chest.
She'd showered, only wore a robe and a pair of flannel pajamas. The robe came off quickly, followed by her shirt and his pants. They toppled onto the bed in a tangle of limbs and clothing. The rest of their clothes came off in seconds, and he kissed her throat, her collar bone, the valley between her breasts.
He explored every inch of her body with his hands, mouth, tongue. She wasn't quite so bold, but did her share of exploring. Then, and only then, he rolled her over and stroked into her slowly. She arched beneath him, taking him in, wrapping her legs around him.
"Doyle," she started, her hips meeting his with every thrust. "I love you."
