Author's Note: I had the most horrible writer's block over this chapter. I wrote half of it 6 weeks ago and then nothing more would come. Painful. Sorry for the delay. I'm off on holiday tomorrow, so hopefully the break will allow me to clear my mind and start writing again more successfully (and more frequently) when I return.
Thanks to everyone who continues to support this story. The end is nigh, I swear. I see light at the end of the tunnel and hopefully it isn't a train...
A chunk of this chapter is based closely on Angel's fantasy/nightmare in season 4's "Deep Down" (written by Steven S. DeKnight)
No Infringement intended.
"Can you sit up?"
Carefully, Willow helped Buffy into a sitting position, regretting it almost immediately when the slayer winced and clutched at her head with one hand.
"Maybe you should lie back down."
"No. No, I'm good." Buffy blinked a couple of times, trying to clear her vision. "As good as a person gets with concussion. What happened?"
"What's the last thing you remember?" Faith asked her.
"Big demons."
Faith shrugged. "That's pretty much what happened," she replied. "One of them hit you with some kind of energy bolt."
"We thought we lost you," Willow added in a quiet voice.
Something caught Buffy's eye and she turned her head quickly, causing another dizzy spell. When it passed, she frowned at the sight of Angel, Cordelia and Connor.
"They're back. What happened?"
Willow and Faith exchanged a look. The story was long and involved and Buffy still had a concussion. Buffy, however, was having none of their mollycoddling.
"Tell me what's going on!"
"Angel! It's me. Cordelia."
His grip tightened on her arms and she cried out from the pain.
"Angel, you're hurting me!"
"Who are you?" he snarled again.
"It told you. I'm Cordy!" she insisted.
He jerked his head over his shoulder. "That's Cordelia."
"No! That is a figment of your imagination. The Senior Partners are controlling your mind, in some kind of hypnotic dream."
"No!"
He forcefully let her go and moved away just as quickly as he lunged at her. Still in shock, Cordy rubbed her shoulder. That would leave a bruise…
He was back in the shadows again. Watching. Detached. He reminded her so much of when she first came to LA and started to work for him. He always set himself apart from the rest of the world, afraid to join in, permanently skulking in the shadows.
She had spent so long trying to bring him out of himself. Make him interact with the people around him. Make him connect. And, eventually, he truly had – building up a family around him in the process. But now…
Now, he was right back where he started.
"Angel…"
"Leave me alone."
With a final look at the happy group of friends before him, he turned and walked towards the front door of the hotel.
"Damn. Where's he going now?" Cordy muttered to herself as she followed. "What the…"
Instead of the familiar street she expected to see, she found herself on a cliff top. Far below, she could hear the ocean lapping against the beach and smell the salt in the air. A sign told her what she already knew. They were at Point Dume.
"Your heart longs for her, though it no longer beats."
Angling it just right, Spike skimmed another rock across the pond. It hit the top of the still water three times before sinking out of sight, leaving only ripples in its wake.
"You love her."
"Yeah," he replied, not particularly willing to engage in conversation with the woman at his side – not on this topic, in any case. He was too busy worrying about Buffy, wondering how Willow was progressing in her attempt to wake her up.
"Why?"
He turned to shoot Illyria a bewildered look. "Why what?"
"Why do you love her?" she elaborated. "She is a Slayer. A vampire's natural enemy. It is not logical for you to feel anything but animosity towards her."
"Logic has nothing to do with love," he informed her, thrusting his hands into the pockets of his duster. "In fact, love is the complete opposite of logic."
"I do not understand."
He looked her up and down. "No. You don't, do you."
He walked to a nearby tree, leant up against it and lit a cigarette. The very act brought back a flood of memories – the days, weeks, perhaps even months on end he spent beneath a tree in Buffy's garden in Sunnydale, watching her, wanting for her, dreaming about her.
It was obsession. Lust. Desire. Even need. But it wasn't love. Not really. Not until after he got his soul back. That was something he didn't realize back then – too wrapped up in his delusions and romantic notions of what love was.
"It'll be dawn soon," he remarked. He hoped his evasiveness would dissuade Illyria from pursuing an answer to her question, but she'd followed him to the tree and now stood, arms at her side, watching him, waiting for that answer.
"Love isn't something that can be explained in logical terms," he told her finally. "I could explain that I love Buffy for her strength, for her passion, because of how she always does her best and because she never gives up. I could tell you that she's the best woman I've even known and she fills me with such… hope, that I can't help but love her. All of that would be true, but it wouldn't come close to explaining why."
He took a long drag before dropping the cigarette on the grass and crushing it under his foot.
"She's such a part of me now that I don't know where she ends and I begin," he went on quietly, almost talking to himself now as he stared across the lawn towards the large house. "And if she doesn't wake up…"
He left the though unfinished as he set off across the garden, suddenly desperate to check on her.
"Cordelia. I didn't think you were coming."
Cordy started at the sound of her name, but soon realized that he wasn't addressing her. Another Cordy – one wearing a white outfit she remembered all too well and sporting a short, blonde haircut that she cringed at with hindsight – was approaching him.
"You know me better than that," she replied. "Better than anybody."
Angel laughed lightly, shoving his hands into his pockets. "I don't know if that's true."
"Yes. You do."
The location was right. The outfit was right. There was just one little problem. She had never made it to their meeting that night – she'd been intercepted by her bogus demon guide and ascended as a higher being. Another delusion courtesy of the Senior Partners, Cordy thought to herself.
The fake Cordelia slowly walked to the edge of the cliff and glanced across at the view in to moonlight.
"It's so beautiful here."
He was watching her intently. "Yes. Yes, it is," he replied. "Just the way it should be."
He looked distracted for a moment. Then he frowned. "But it's not. This isn't how it happened."
"I know," she replied. "I like this version better."
"It was Connor. He was here. He..."
She touched his face, stopping him mid-sentence. "I can't remember what it was like - not knowing you, not being close to you. I'm in love with you Angel. Deep down I think I have been for a long time. I needed you to know that."
It killed Cordelia – the real one – to watch this scene play out. These were the words she should be saying to him. The words she should have said. If only Skip hadn't intercepted her on her way here that night. If only she hadn't been so stupid as to believe him. If only…
Her breath hitched in her throat as Angel drew her doppelganger into a kiss. After a moment, he pulled back to look at her again.
"I need you, Cordy. I need you."
As he began to kiss the imposter's neck, a single tear ran down Cordy's face. It was too painful to watch. There had to be something she could do – something to snap him out of his daze, out of this delusion. She'd do anything, she swore internally, anything to bring back the real Angel, the man she loved.
Another tear escaped her eyes and as she raised a hand to brush it away, she saw Angel look up. His eyes connected with hers for the briefest of moments. And then, to her horror, he vamped out and plunged his fangs into the other Cordelia's neck.
Both women gasped simultaneously. Cordy could feel his fangs in her, even as she watched him drink from the other woman in front of her. Reaching up to grasp her neck, she pulled her fingers away, sticky with her own blood.
Angel stopped feeding and began to sob. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry!"
The other Cordelia was gone. That's strange, she thought, as she collapsed to the ground.
"Buffy!" Dawn squealed with delight as she dashed to embrace her sister.
The Slayer groaned as the younger but significantly taller girl grabbed her into a fierce bear hug.
"Easy Dawny," she half-heartedly complained.
"Buffy," Giles exclaimed, utter relief in his voice. "How are you?"
"Bruised. Battered. But itching to get back in the fight. How's the research coming along?"
"It's been productive. The resources here are… impressive."
"Giles is suffering from 'book envy'," Xander remarked. "It's kinda like 'penis envy' but, you know - geekier."
His one good eye twinkled, but behind his smirk, Buffy saw his concern for her.She moved to sit down beside him, giving his shoulder a reassuring squeeze along the way.
Still stationed by the door, Faith now spoke up. "So, have you figured out a way to stop those ubër-demons?"
"Not as such," Giles replied with no small measure of disappointment in his voice. "But we did find something of significance – there's another prophecy. Much more detailed than the one we originally had access to."
"What does it say?" Willow asked.
"I haven't fully translated it as yet, but it appears that there were many stages on the way to the battle we're now fighting. A checklist, if you like, that should have been completed before the Senior Partners attempted their ascension back to earth."
"Did they miss anything on that list that might help us?" Buffy wanted to know.
The Watcher nodded. "As a matter of fact. Something significant that could well be of use to us. The entire Slayer line was supposed to have been wiped out before the final raising took place."
Everyone took a moment to absorb this.
"So that was what the First was up to last year," Buffy finally remarked.
"Clearly, the slayers are a threat to the Senior Partners," Giles told them. "Which means there is still hope that we can beat them."
"Cordy? Oh, god, Cordy!"
He could taste her blood on his lips as she collapsed to the ground. It pulsed through his undead body, snapping him to his senses. The veil lifted, breaking whatever trance he'd been in. And now all he could do was pray he was dreaming.
He sped to her side and cradled her in his arms. What had he done? What had he done?
"Cordy. Open your eyes," he urged her desperately. "Please, Cor. Please."
Her eyes opened to slits, hazily focusing on his tear-stained face.
"Angel," she whispered, her small, cold hand reaching for his. He clasped it in his own, clinging to it in the hope of preventing her from slipping away from him.
Her eyes closed again, her breathing becoming shallow.
"No!" he cried out. "Cordy! Don't do this!"
Back in the home of Cyvus Vail, blood slowly trickled down Cordelia's neck as her body collapsed forward. With the last of her strength, her empty hand closed around Connor's.
To Be Continued...