Angel lurched up in his bed, wide eyed and panting. It couldn't have happened… there was no way that he had… Desperately he ran his hands over his throat, his breath gradually calming as he realised that it had just been a dream. Just another dream. He lifted himself from the sleep warmed bed and padded to the window. A cool breeze was blowing through the small crack he'd left open causing the gauzy curtain to billow out towards him. Lazily he stroked it back into place watching the silent street below. It was so strange to see LA quiet – even just a little part of it.
Despite the drain that his dream had on him, he felt strong; stronger than he had done in a very long time. It was amazing what a little sleep could do for a body – he'd have to let Wes drug him again some time if he was going to wake feeling like this. He'd have to let Wes know that he was ok with what he had done, he knew that Wes would be tearing strips off of himself over it – but Angel had needed him to take control and he had done.
He stretched, allowing his muscles to ease themselves out and shake off the lingering sluggishness. He felt peaceful, it was a nice change. He really didn't want to leave the room because he knew that the moment he did so he would have to let the real world back in and he wasn't ready to do that just yet. Prolonging the return to reality he tiredly moved towards the bathroom and flicked the shower on. He was so relieved that he had thought to keep the hotel in working order even though he no longer lived there. He still came here to think when things really got to him. It was his sanctuary.
He had come here after Cordelia died and just sat in his room, drawing countless images of her face pulled in every expression he could imagine. Well that was what he had intended on doing but all he had been able to draw was that smile. There was no one in the world with a smile that brilliant. No matter how bad he felt, just the simple memory of how that smile had lit up her face and the entire room always lifted his spirits. She, the memory of her, was his guardian angel. As he stood under the warm spray feeling the counterfeit rain batter down on him, heat spreading into every fibre of his being and washing away reality (for the time being), he tried to imagine what Cordy would have had to say about Gabriel. He imagined that it would have started with 'hello', ended with 'goodness' and there would have been a 'salty' thrown in there for good measure. She would have given him good advice. She always did. Wes was the one that solved the problems and Cordy was the one that handed out the tips that meant he functioned normally. After all, she was Cordelia Chase, she didn't think – she knew!
He knew that the only problem she would have had with Gabriel was that he was a vampire and therefore 'evil' but he thought that given how he had always treated Angel she would have been more tolerant of him than she would be of Spike at the minute. Yet he couldn't help his feelings. He loved Spike so deeply that it was dangerous. He'd given Spike everything that he had to give, given him more than he had ever given anyone but it hadn't been enough. He wasn't Buffy and that was obviously who Spike wanted. On the other hand Gabriel was here for him after 240 years of separation claiming that he wasn't going to let Angel go again and that he was not going to do anything that would make things difficult for Angel. Even though him being here was difficult for Angel.
He felt that he was being torn in half.
On one side was the 'good choice' – stick with Spike; he had a soul, was a champion, didn't kill, was destroying him from the inside – and on the other was Gabriel the 'bad choice'. Did he have the courage to take what he wanted for once? He had never really had anything that had been truly his. The humans that had infected his heart were all part of a world that he couldn't enter. They had sunshine and families and happiness and he constantly lost them to that daylight world. Connor had only been his for a few short months yet he had been stolen and he could never have him back. Had he been selfish, Angel would have erased the Quor'toth and given him a happy childhood in the Hyperion; but in the end he loved his son more than that and had given up the child that would never love him and who he would never force to. Spike had obviously never been his – he had still devoted a huge part of his heart to Buffy and Dru and Angel knew that there was no way that he could compete with them. Spike had been with Dru for almost 120 years and he had gotten a soul for Buffy…
Gabriel though… Gabriel was his. Gabriel had made him, shaped him and driven him despite the fact that Angel had refused to remember him. At first he had been so hurt that Gabriel abandoned him and just vanished, leaving him, a young fledge, sireless and alone in a foreign country. Then the hurt had vanished only to be replaced by blood searing anger. Angelus was forged in the heat of that inferno. He hated Gabriel. Hated him for leaving him to the Order that he had promised to save him from. Hated him for making the Master want him. Hated him for loving him, for really and truly loving him. Then as the Master became more brutal and he became more rebellious he cursed Gabriel for the position he was in. Gabriel had made him too human, he felt for Penn when he had seen that haunted look in his grey eyes that reminded him of his own childhood, and he broke himself over and over building himself back up as a creature that couldn't love anything so as to deny the fact that he was so desperate to feel it himself. He refused to fall into that trap again. He stormed his way through Europe making the world shudder at his feet so that no one would want to love him. He broke those he turned so that they only craved his blood and his cruelty. He never wanted to hear them demand his love or spill out sweet nothings in sibilant whispers over his skin.
Then he got his soul. The horror at what he had done because of love made him banish Gabriel to the deepest darkest depths of his psyche. He refused to believe that he and Gabriel had ever been lovers because if they had then what did that say about his ability to love? After a hundred years of denial and god knows how long in Hell, Gabriel was nothing more than a name in a book he couldn't touch and the faintest echo of green eyes in the darkness. Gabriel couldn't have been in his Hell because that wouldn't of hurt him – Buffy was deemed a better torment… how wrong they were.
The hot water continued to pound down on the creamy skin but the heat couldn't penetrate the icy cold that had spread from within. Angel was scared of the choices that he might make, what would his darkest desires cost the world this time? The last time he had acted on them Angelus, utterly devoid of any trace of Liam, had been unleashed to terrorise Sunnydale and pull the world that much closer to Hell. He couldn't afford to have what he wanted and he would never have what he needed… but that didn't stop his heart from shattering as he realised what he must do.
Shivering from his own cold, he stepped from the shower and towelled himself off. He dressed hurriedly and left the hotel on foot carrying with him a spare sketchbook safely tucked under one arm. He had one thing that he needed to do, one thing he wanted to do and then he would what he had to do. He would be the champion; even if it destroyed his soul… there wouldn't be anything of him left for vengeance to claim by the end of this night.
It was amazing what money could buy. People say that money can't buy true beauty, but they were wrong. If you are the CEO of Wolfram and Hart and throw enough money at people you can buy anything… except what you really want. But this place was beautiful. There was a small frothing brook that tumbled down through jagged rocks and was framed perfectly by the lush green grass that was a little longer here than elsewhere in the manicured park. This area was totally natural. Wild flowers grew in scattered clumps, their pretty coloured faces peaking out from the sea of green. It was sheltered by gnarled trees that were probably older than he was. Their roots had clawed their way out of the ground at points, making little hollows to sit in and wallow in the simplistic peace of the place. What was truly beautiful though, the thing that had made him say that he desperately wanted this spot was the moon. Its positioning meant that moonlight illuminated the little dell throughout the night, bathing it in silver and turning it into nothing short of a fairyland. The only thing he had altered was to plant a patch of Queen of the Night Cactus, a small bed of little white flowers that opened at night. He loved to sit and watch as the flower slowly opened revealing the golden stamens and releasing its exquisite perfume. It was magical.
It was Elysium.
After all they deserved nothing less.
When they had all become members of AI they all had one request, should they die they wanted to be cremated, not buried. None of them wanted their bodies resurrected to play host to a demon or a means of tormenting those left behind. When she had died, they had followed that request to the letter. The only thing was that none of them wanted to let go. They wanted a grave, a place to go and mourn – their own Mecca of grief - but nothing had seemed suitable. Until one night a demon hunt led them all to this shaded glen.
It was small – barely an acre, but an acre of perfection.
And somewhere beneath the Queen of the Night lay a black onyx box, wrapped up in a velvet bag. The top of the box was etched with one word – Cordy. A little way away from there, wrapped in another velvet bag was a video tape, a copy of Doyle's advert – all Angel had left of him. There were no grave markers, nothing that would tell people about the treasure beneath their feet, nothing to mar the beauty of the place. Angel had bought the entire acre – all of them expressing the same wish to lie here when their job was done as a family and that is what they were going to do.
Tonight though he hadn't come here to sit and talk or listen. Tonight he had come for a very different reason. Beside him sat two velvet bags, one an emerald green – like Doyle's – and the other was a deep red. Angel, settled between the roots of an old sycamore tree, inhaling the sweet aroma of the Queen of the Night and listening to the nocturnal noise, began to draw.
Two images on two pieces of quality cream paper.
The first was a boy, shaggy hair that came to his chin and seemed wild and untameable. Laughing eyes that crinkled at the edges and a wide smile that lifted his entire face. His body was wrapped in old fashioned clothes; breeches, a linen shirt that wasn't fastened properly and was untucked in places and hung over the waistband of the breeches, his waistcoat was a fine one and obviously expensive but hung off his body as if it were a poor rag. His buckled shoes were scuffed and his cravat was hanging round his neck. There was nothing refined about this boy except for the obvious joy he held for life.
On the second piece of paper he drew a man dressed in elegant clothing, fine silk waistcoat, impeccable breeches and perfectly starched shirt. A ruffed cravat tucked neatly under his chin. His hair, smooth and glossy hung neatly to his shoulders and framed his finely sculptured face. The smooth cheekbones emphasised the hypnotic cat eyes that stared enticingly out at the artist, tempting him to kiss the slightly smirking lips.
Angel glanced critically over both pictures, making sure that they were perfect – nothing else would suffice. He traced a finger over the thick pencil line on the gentleman's picture, slightly smudging the graphite lines but all in all adding something to the piece. He closed his eyes, branding both images onto his brain and a small crystalline tear dropped to land on the man's lips. Unable to do anymore Angel rolled both pictures up and tied them both with a piece of ribbon before slipping them into their bags. He dug a shallow grave and placed both bags in it, their black drawstrings entwining as lovers were wont to do. He pushed the earth over the bags and pulled himself up. He left the glen with a whispered "Goodbye."
The streets were quiet despite the hour, eleven o'clock and alls well. Angel passed a lamppost that had a tattered and wind torn missing poster taped to it. Something about it drew his attention and he stared at the face of a boy Connor's age. Sandy blonde hair and hazel eyes and a pouting mouth stared back at him. White light exploded behind Angel's eyes and he took off running as fast as he could towards the boy's hideaway in the subway tunnels.
"Wow."
For the past half hour Wes had explained the nature of Cordelia's visions to the uneducated amongst them and in doing so had revealed to them both a very different Cordelia Chase, a girl that they had never known, and a new Angel. Two heroes that did everything they could to save one another time and time again. He told of how Doyle had died and passed the visions to Cordelia, how she had kissed everyone that crossed her path to get rid of them, how Vocah had unleashed the world's pain onto her through them, how the Pyleans' worshipped her as a Princess because of them, how Wolfram and Hart used them against Angel and finally how they led her to become a demon. 'Wow' had really been the only way to respond to the tale.
"So now Angel is the Seer?"
Willow had listened with rapt fascination as Wes described how the Powers had communicated to the group and how pure the gift was. She knew many witches in the Coven who had the gift of foresight but none of them actually had true visions from the Powers. To her, a student of the magicks, this was mind-blowing. Giles was fascinated by the topic too – but for a slightly more impure reason. Angel could be of great use to the Council if this was true. His visions would give them a great advantage. The rest of the Scoobies were in awe and a little confused by what it meant but were taking it as proof that Angel was considered good.
Everyone else was worried. Spike had seen visions take their toll on Dru for over a hundred years and these sounded worse than hers. Plus with all the other bollocks in Angel's head he was worried that these may drive him insane. A thought that was being shared by the others of the group.
"But Wes man, what about what Skip showed Cordy?" Gunn tried not to arouse suspicion with that comment and was quite successful.
"Given the fact that Skip had his own agenda at the time I am going to take his recommendations with a fairly hefty pinch of salt. However, Angel's visions are different from Cordelia's."
"How so Muffin?"
"Well, actually Lorne I was going to ask your advice on this. He says that the visions are painful but only when the occurrence is urgent. He also told me that he has other visions – premonitions. Yesterday, before he came into the conference room I noticed him by the door. He then turned to glance into the foyer and seconds later the two clerks collided and began screaming at one another. He didn't seem surprised. At the time I thought that he was just out of sorts so I ignored it. Now though I think he saw it happen before it actually did. What do you think?"
He turned hopeful and inquisitive blue eyes to the green demon, who had a thoughtful look on his face.
"Not sure Crumpet… but they sound like the real deal to me. I know some demons that may be able to tell me more though."
"Ok so that is one less thing to worry about then."
"Poor Angel, he's really suffering isn't he?" Fred's empathetic voice resonated in all of them, twanging on the strings of their consciences making them vibrate with worry and guilt. No one had anything to say. Except Andrew…
"He's like Destiny, except not blind or an old women…"
He was cut off by a sharp smack from Dawn.
For a while they were all silent, each contemplating the revelations of the evening and their potential ramifications. It was Willow who broke the silence, commanding a great deal of respect with her gentle and well thought out words.
"So what do we do now? We don't know that Gabriel isn't a threat to Angel – or us – and we do need to find him. But what we really need is a plan, something that covers all the bases and leaves Angel with an out."
Everyone nodded their agreement and Wes breathed a huge sigh of relief. His final gambit had paid off. He knew that, for Giles at least, the prospect of harming a declared warrior for good would be very hypocritical and it had swung the sympathies of Buffy and Xander. He sunk into the comfy leather chair and passed the books to everyone. He didn't notice Spike pick up the sketch book and flip through it, casting venomous glares at his 'rival' and being heartbroken by the images of himself. He'd never forgive himself if he'd fucked this up for good.
They hadn't been researching long when the office door opened to admit a bloodied and bedraggled Angel. He was covered in demon gore, a deep blue gunky fluid that was presumably blood. His shirt was ripped to sheds and the furrows of claws were visible through the scraps of material. There was also a nasty looking scratch on his face and arm. Despite his appearance, Spike knew he wasn't hurt – he couldn't smell that intoxicating aroma that was Angel's blood. He looked exhausted. Angel stopped dead when he saw the congregation gathered around his conference table. He saw a flash of guilt on Wes' face and suddenly understood.
"So they know?" His voice was low and husky with fatigue. His shoulders slumped a little more and he leant on the door frame for support.
"Yes, Angel I know I…" Wes was cut off mid apology by a nodding Angel. He gave a forced smile.
"Thanks. I couldn't have told them. Thanks for knocking me out too."
The LA group gave a light laugh at Angel's dry humour and the combination of embarrassment, amusement and guilt that danced across Wes' expression all at once making him look a little odd.
"Pet, what happened?"
So focused on Wes, Angel had failed to notice Spike move towards him. Those were the first direct words that he had spoken to Angel in almost a week and Angel found himself tongue tied. A part of him felt like a hormonal teenager whose major crush was finally noticing them and the other part felt wary. He didn't trust that Spike wasn't acting concerned because of what Wes had said. He didn't want Spike's pity – he wanted his love. He saw genuine concern in the blue eyes that he believed more beautiful than any sapphire and desperately wanted to believe them but he couldn't. He had to stay strong – this was going to be a hard enough night as it was.
"Vision. Boy in trouble with a demon. Killed the demon."
He shifted nervously under everyone's scrutiny, unable to look them in the eyes. He felt as if he'd been caught sneaking in late.
"Umm… I'm gonna…"
He motioned to the elevator indicating that he was going to go and take a shower and change. Everyone nodded in agreement. And he moved towards the only route to the penthouse. Spike desperately wanted to follow him, to talk to him on his own but realised that now wouldn't be the best time. Angel was too worn out and he didn't want to add any more pressure to that.
"Yes, you do that Angel and when you come back we can discuss what we have to do."
Angel came to an abrupt halt and moved back towards Giles. Fear and anger clenched at his gut and he hoped that that comment didn't mean what he thought it did.
"Sorry Giles, what did you mean by that?" His voice was perfectly neutral and his features were schooled into a practised poker mask.
"I meant that we'll decide how to deal with Gabriel."
Angel hung his head and summoned all of his courage. Overcoming his sudden nausea and his fatigue he looked the Watcher dead in the eye.
"There is no we here Giles. You lot aren't involved. I'll deal with Gabriel – alone."
Cries of outrage met his declaration and he stood strong, weathering the storm. Eventually, fed up of being treated as nothing one minute and the centre of the universe the next, Angel's infinite patience found its limits.
"Enough! None of you are coming with me on this! I am going alone because that is what I have to do! This is nothing to do with any of you and I am not going to turn up like a coward with you lot to hold my hand! I owe him more than that! I don't care if you do or don't believe that I'll go through with it but I am going on my own and I will have you all locked up here if that's what it takes!"
Angel was surprised that they had all shrunk back from him during his little explosion. He guessed that they weren't used to him losing his cool.
What he didn't know was that his face had morphed.
Gone were the deep chocolate eyes and in their place were deep golden ones. Not the yellow of vampire eyes but a reddish gold – like burnt gold. They were flashing with anger and power, both of which were rolling off him in waves so strong that even the 'normal' humans amongst them could taste it. His canines had lengthened too. They weren't the usual ugly jagged fangs but elegant points just lengthened enough to stand out from his other teeth. He looked like the romanticised vampire of Hollywood but that wasn't what worried them… they could all tell that he didn't know he'd changed. He was unaware of his body's reaction to his anger – 250 year old Master Vampires didn't lose control like that. Nor did they look like he did.
"What is going on with you Peaches?"
Spike moved towards him, very worried about this new development, and grabbed Angel's arm so as to turn him away from Giles. As soon as his hand clamped down on Angel's wrist, Angel screamed…
He'd been here before – it was familiar but he couldn't tell why… There were voices, shouting and screaming… A voice was yelling, louder than the rest, crying and begging for them to stop. He moved through the… apartment… as if in a dream. The edges of his vision were blurred and the features of the rooms were distorted… He could see an open door – white light spilling out of it but the white was edged in shadow and the shadow grew as he got closer. It was as if he were underwater… everything was sluggish and muted and he couldn't move as fast as he wanted to…
After what felt like an eternity he reached the door. He saw three figures in the room and there were other shapes lingering on the edges of his vision but the three were clear… it was as though they were in a spotlight. Two of the figures were fighting and the third – the one that was begging, was on the floor… on their knees… trying to stop them…
One figure was wrapped in what looked like green velvet… it cloaked every inch of him… except for the black wings that broke free of his back and were held high and proud – bristling with their own anger. The second fighter was swathed in black but a brilliant gold light was exploding from within him… a blue halo surrounded his body. His posture was as aggressive as the other figure's…but there was a ferocious passion there too, an awesome force of passion…
The kneeling figure had wings too, but these were white with blackened edges… as if they had been charred… His wings weren't proud… they fell behind him… touching the floor and showing the figure's despair as well as any facial expression could. This one was a mix though… he was cloaked in red but the same golden light broke through the thick fabric…
Suddenly an arrow whistled past his head… he couldn't see who had fired it but it triggered something in the fighters… they launched themselves at each other…
His vision exploded into dust…
Reality flooded back in.
He felt someone try to touch him but he threw them off. He was shaking and screaming and seeing the same thing over and over. The thing was, he didn't know who died; just that one of the people he loved more than anything was going to kill the other…
When he came too he pulled himself back so that he was huddled against his desk. How did he stop this? If he told, then they would have Gabriel killed because Spike deserved to live more. If he didn't tell then it might happen by accident. He couldn't stop this! There was no way to save one without the other dying… He had lost…
He felt Spike's arms wrap around him, panic flooded his system and he bolted from them and from the room. He could hear them following him as he fled from the building. He knew LA better than all of them and he was faster, he knew where he was going as well. He just had to stay ahead of them all. If they weren't with him then he could get to Gabriel first…
He had been so wrong. He had thought that he would be able to kill Gabriel if he couldn't get him to leave… but that vision… oh he had been so very wrong. He loved Gabriel as much as he had ever done in his life – he couldn't lose him. Not now, not ever…
He didn't stop running the whole time that it took to get to Cordelia's apartment. They had stopped following him after ten blocks, Spike after twenty odd but they wouldn't find him here. None of them even knew that he owned the place. He'd bought it after Dennis had forced the new occupants out. Cordy had loved Dennis and he'd wait until Dennis was ready to accept another tenant.
"Where would he go?"
Spike was now edging past furious and towards terrified. He had never thought about how Angel would view Buffy coming to town. He had been convinced that she would come between them because of their feelings for her. He had totally forgotten that Angel only ever committed to one love at a time. He would still care for Buffy but he wouldn't love her. He wasn't an adulterer. He may have slept with many men and women but he would never cheat. Spike had been so flattered by the attention that he had received from the Scoobies, people he had died to help, delighted to finally be part of the group that he had been blinded. All he had ever wanted was to be accepted for who he was, to be treated like a man and the Scoobies had been treating him as a dear friend. He had never stopped to consider that he hadn't had to die for Angel to prove his worth. He had just loved him and Angel had given himself over so completely that Spike had had him mind body and soul. He held all that Angel was.
And he had thrown it away.
Now he wanted it back and he would kill whatever stood in his way.
"I don't know Spike; it is something that I would have expected his lover to know!"
Wes was scared. Actually he was hurtling past scared and towards terrified. He knew how horrific visions were from what Cordelia had told him and how painful. He also knew that they were even more painful for Angel, especially right now. Angel had to be terrified. He would be remembering what Cordy had said about him being driven mad by the visions. So at the moment he wasn't concerned about Spike's pettiness.
"Look, leave Spike alone, it isn't his fault that Angel had a fit and ran off!" Buffy didn't know what was going on but she was tired of him getting the blame for Angel acting like a crazy person.
"Actually Buffy I would say that most of this is Spike's fault. You don't claim someone and then spend a week with an old lover! Not when it's Angel and he has given so much! Been through so much!"
"And we don't know that? We know what Angel has been through Wesley, we know him."
"No Buffy, you all just got to know a pretty façade that Angel put up to hide who he was! I am sure that he told you that he was raped when he was a child or that he only got by on the streets as a prostitute? Do you know what happened to him in Hell? Or perhaps you are aware of the fact that he was in love with Cordelia and lost her to something he trusted and could never hope to fight! I am sure that you know all of that!"
Wes couldn't believe what he had just said. He had just told every one of Angel's most valued secrets in a fit of temper. He had betrayed Angel just as surely as Spike had.
"He was in love with Cordelia?" Buffy was shocked. Somehow she had known that Angel had a life outside of Sunnydale but the fact that he actually had a life she wasn't part of shocked her to the core. She looked around and saw that her friends were just as shocked as she and that Spike looked ready to kill Wesley along with all of Angel's other friends.
"Don't… I know… I… kill me later. We need to find him now! That vision showed him something, well if I had to guess he either saw Gabriel's death or Gabriel coming after us! Don't be fooled, he is in love with Gabriel; Angel will try to keep him safe. Especially now. He… I dread to think what he'll do for this. We have brought Angel lower than ever before, he has had a mask to hide behind before, he doesn't now. He is scared and alone and he will do something stupid."
"Wes is right you guys. You don't know this Angel. You don't know how far he'll go. He'd end the world to save a loved one, he opened a portal to Pylea to find Cordy, and he killed Jasmine. He'll fight for this." Fred knew that this was dangerous. She had seen Angel angry and sad and dangerous but never terrified. She was scared for him and scared that she may lose a friend tonight.
"He loves him?" Spike deflated at the idea of that. He had never thought that he might have competition for Angel's affections. For the life of him he couldn't work out why he had thought out that. Who wouldn't want Angel? Why wouldn't there be an old lover? Angel had 250 years of lovers, why wouldn't any of them still want him as much as Spike did?
"I think that he does Spike. I think he may still love you, but you have hurt him so much and not even noticed it. For God's sake, Harmony saw more than you did! But that isn't the problem at the moment; you can try to get him back once we get him back!"
"Wes man, I think I know where he is… well at least it's where I'd go if I were Angel."
"Where?"
"Dennis'."
