CIRCLES
CHAPTER SIX: TRAPPED
Notes: This chapter is for Louvil, who's in depth review (constructive criticism much appreciated!) motivated me to post! I hadn't finished the chapter until I read your review, and was finding it hard to fill this gap I hadn't yet been able to fill. You inspired and encouraged me greatly, so here's my big thank you! This chap is probably not the best it could be, but I guess it's better than nothing :)
Also, what I said at the bottom of last chapter, as far as what is in this chapter had pretty much all changed, or been post-poned for later chapters. Woops :P
Heather Islington glanced across the room at the other slayers, frowning. It was a nice hotel, she supposed; it would've been very disappointing if they had had to stay in some place sub-standard. With the amount of donations from many of the girls families, as well as the constant funding from their business, it wasn't like they couldn't afford it.
Heather, at the ripe old age of 41, was the oldest Slayer that had so far been recruited into T.C (which was the squeezed down version of "The Chosen" although the general populace were told it stood for "Team Care" – as their public front was an organisation that helped disadvantaged girls to get back on their feet). Heather was, before she had suddenly discovered her hidden supernatural powers almost a year ago, a psychological expert, specializing in human behaviour. She had been the one leading the research and treatment of Dana, and it was her fault the girl had been allowed to escape.
Heather took a deep breath and shook her head slightly; she tried not to think about that. Guilt was a distracting emotion in a situation like this. They had to find their rogue slayer, and from all reports she had stopped running here in L.A. and had settled down somewhere within the city. Heather had just finished going over the latest reports from the scouts they had sent out around the city. She had taken it upon herself, following the failure back at the centre in Mexico, to take a lead in this investigation.
The door opened, and Buffy Summers, the oldest serving slayer, entered the room. They had already begun discussion, but as Buffy commanded a certain level of respect amongst the slayer community the talk ceased when she joined them. They filled her in on the information recovered so far, which had been reasonably unhelpful, and waited to hear her news.
Buffy frowned slightly before speaking; cradling a cup of hot chocolate that one of the other girls had brought her. "I went to see some old friends in the city, but they hadn't heard anything about Dana."
Katie Teo, a 22 year old from Australia, leaned across the table. "You look bothered Buffy, what else did you find out?"
Buffy smiled at Katie, but she looked slightly irritated. "Can't hide anything here can I?" she said, then bit her lip thoughtfully. "No, it's nothing really. Just things have changed, people – it's.. it's nothing."
Then her expression changed, as though she had remembered something completely different, she frowned again, this time looking specifically at Heather, "And why didn't anyone tell me about Dana and Spike? I mean, she tried to kill him last time she was here, wouldn't that put him in danger now? Why wasn't I told about all that?"
"Spike" or William the Bloody.. one of Buffy's vampire boyfriends.. Heather suppressed an urge to give her honest opinion about Buffy and her vampire lovers; "souls" or no. She knew now was not the time, if there was ever a time to stand up to "the original" slayer. So she shrugged, and said as politely as she could manage, "I thought perhaps, given your past history, you might have a clouded opinion on the subject."
Buffy blinked in surprise, recovered and then gave Heather a very sharp look. "Oh you thought that did you?"
Heather bowed her head, "I apologize if I've offended you. We didn't consider the information that relevant, our sources told us that the vampire was under the protection of Wolfram and Hart."
Buffy, who still looked pissed off with Heather, crossed her arms, "Your sources need updating. Wolfram and Hart have been destroyed."
There was a murmur of interest and surprise around the room. Buffy raised her eyebrows, "I would've thought we might have picked up on that already. What with the buildings falling down.. the huge bad demon presence being kicked and – oh yeah – the prevention of an apocalypse. Aren't we supposed to be the "it" on these topics?"
Katie, who was a bit lacking in brains but had a good heart, grinned lopsidedly at Buffy "Well we are now aren't we!" she said enthusiastically, "You've just told us. Good job Buff!"
Buffy didn't look placated and still directed herself at Heather. "Oh and that vampire would probably be a very good place to start looking for Dana, I would've thought. Wouldn't she want to come after him, seeing as she believed he was the one who killed her parents?"
Heather restrained herself from looking supercilious before replying. "During treatment, it was plain to us that Dana had separated herself from this particular notion. She knew the name of her assailant, as provided by.. what's his name – that other vampire you were with – Angel. She knew he was dead, and she knew all her emotional damage was not caused by William the Bloody."
"Sounds like a lot of rationality from an insane person," Buffy commented.
Heather sighed and looked down at the table, "Well she was beginning to improve. We all saw that."
There was a small silence; tensions were running high among The Chosen of late. Dana, and this whole situation, evoked confused emotions in everyone, but especially the slayers.
The door opened again, and Teresa McKinnon, a stunningly beautiful African American woman (however trashily dressed she may have appeared at the time), swept into the room. Heather, Buffy, Katie and the others all turned to her, awaiting a report from the last scout to return that night.
The sun broke the horizon, killing the night, and creating the dawn. Angel lay in his bed, staring up at the ceiling. He couldn't sleep like this; there was so much going on. Buffy was here, and that always messed with his head. The Immortal, the Camarilla.. Buffy..
And, his thoughts shifting, something weird was going on with Illyria. And Spike. And.. and with Connor. Everything was weird right now. Angel groaned, what else was new..
He lifted a hand up to his head and ran his cold fingers through his black hair. Not long ago he'd been so sure of what he was doing, the decisions he was making and why he was making them. Now all his perspectives and thoughts were stuck in a haze that he couldn't see through. He didn't know what to do half the time, he didn't have any goals; he was drifting along without direction and without hope. He felt much like he had done just after coming to Los Angeles, after he had left Buffy, almost six years ago. But Doyle had found him, the Powers That Be had found him; and given him purpose. But not hope. Hope had been born with the Shanshu.
And it had died with it also.
His room was curtained, pitch black and lonely. He'd only been back in the hotel for a week; he'd only been away from Wolfram and Hart for a week, but already he missed the sunshine. Even though he'd known the place was rotten to the core, even though he'd known that he was trying to destroy it from within – he still kinda missed it. And he missed Wesley, Fred and Lorne.
For some reason Angel hadn't thought much about Lorne in the last couple of days. Things had been pretty hectic.. but now he wondered where Lorne might be; if he had even survived. They must have done their job, taken down their target.. but knots seemed to develop in Angel's stomach when he considered the possibility that something else had happened. Would he ever know for sure? Lorne might be dead in a ditch somewhere; Lindsay roaming the streets looking for a new evil law firm to settle in with..
He doubted it though. He felt, somewhere deep within his cold exterior – that everything had "gone to plan". And if it had - he didn't feel guilty for what they'd done to Lindsey, not really.. but what he'd done to Lorne in the process – that hurt.
Angel closed his eyes. Yeah, that hurt.
Dana woke up screaming.
Spike had only just attempted to get to sleep himself, and this was more than an unpleasant shock for him. It was ten thirty in the morning, which for him after a really full on night, was much, much too early to get up.
But the very loud screaming sort of motivated him to stop sleeping. Blinking furiously, Spike rolled off his couch and scrambled over to his bed, swearing internally, reached the girl and attempted to calm her down.
The dark haired slayer had pushed herself backwards next to the wall, and was huddled in a foetal position clutching Spike's sheets. Her eyes were wide with fear and she was staring up at the ceiling like it was the most hideous, terrifying creature in all the dimensions (shrimp not withstanding). Her big dark eyes no longer glowed with an angry madness; now there was only a hopeless, vulnerable look in them that dramatically changed her appearance. Dana was no longer the driven, killing machine; she appeared as totally defenceless young girl who had never really grown up.
As Spike tried to settle her, taking her face in his hands, drawing her out from the nightmare she was trapped in, a sinking feeling crept into his guts. Looking at her like this, Spike began to have doubts about his hope of helping her. Not only was he ill equipped to deal with a super-powered mental patient; she seemed to be beyond help in the first place. Words he had spoken to Angel, many months earlier, floated back into his mind.
"..The tingling in my forearms tells me she's too far gone to help. She's one of us now. She's a monster.."
What had changed since then? Nothing; was he deluding himself, to think he could look after her? Should he have handed her over to the slayers the moment he gained her confidence? He didn't know, but thinking of doing that, of giving her away; it seemed like defeat. And Spike hated defeat.
Tears streaming down her face, one hand clutching her injury, Dana broke out of her dream. There was a moment of broken sound – as the screaming stopped, it seemed so did every other noise, and the silence seemed to suffocate the room. Dana stared at Spike, the innocence and the pure terror fading fast from her eyes. For a moment he expected her to punch him, but what happened was almost worse. A dead, empty look overwhelmed her expression, and without a word she turned lay back in the bed, pulling the sheet over herself.
Spike felt lost, and for a moment wished he didn't have a soul. It made situations like this so complicated - and heart wrenching. He slumped down on the floor next to the bed, confused emotions controlling him until one thought pushed all the others out of his brain.
Beer.
Spike got up, shaking his head as Dana fell back asleep in his bed. He reached the fridge and pulled an icy cold beer out of the fridge, opening the bottle and taking a swig. There was a lot of comfort in beer. His lips brushed the bottle as he prepared to take another drink, when he thought of something. Dana had changed since he had first met her, he could not deny that.
The slayers, the treatments, whatever they had done to her – it was not the reason why she was not the lost case he had believed her to be months previously. She wanted to change; deep within that insanity - she wanted to get better; or at the very least she wanted to be something other than what she had become.
It was all still very bewildering for Spike though, as he didn't have a clue in hell what to do now. He stood there for a few moments, beer in hand, wishing his life hadn't got this busy and confusing in such a short space of time, before someone knocked on his door.
He turned and stared at the door. Who the hell was this? He didn't have many enemies that would knock, but he certainly didn't want any of his "friends" to find Dana here, at least not right now. He looked over to check and see she was still sleeping. She was; the sheet was pulled over her head so it was hard to tell, but he could hear the steady beat of her breathing and knew she wasn't faking.
The knocking stopped. Spike moved over to the door slightly, just as he heard the unmistakable noise of someone trying to pick his lock. Well, that was just downright rude. So, making sure to keep his body blocking the side of the room where the bed was located, he moved over to the door and dramatically yanked it open.
Angel came down the stairs, both looking and feeling like he hadn't slept all morning, and began to make himself a cup of coffee. Brewing the liquid, he turned to look at Cordy, who was draped across the couch in the office, a book lying over her chest and one arm dangling on to the floor, snoring slightly. Her lips were parted, her hair was tangled up in an untidy mess, and she was only wearing one sock. All together it wasn't a very flattering look, and if Cordy had been looking at herself she probably would have been in half a mind to commit suicide.
But as Angel looked at her he saw something else, and smiled. Then his thoughts turned and he thought of another, much blonder girl and his emotions became very confused and his brain began to hurt. He loved both of them in different ways, but the truth stung at him harder than the splitting of his feelings. He could never truly be with either.
This heart wrenching revelation was rudely interrupted by an extremely loud crashing noise from several floors above him. Cordelia woke up with a start, her eyes unfocused and her hair boofing out at spectacular angles and said loudly, "Whatsdemonswhere?"
There was another crash upstairs, followed by another. Angel was already moving, sweeping back up the staircase with a graceful haste that Cordy, who followed somewhat groggily and at a much slower pace, could not hope to reproduce.
He discovered the source of the loud banging and crashing sounds as he appeared on a scene of blue-demi-goddess proportions. Moving in a frenzied tantrum around one of the hotel's horribly wallpapered corridors, Illyria was crashing open doors and throwing around bookshelves, beds, boxes, cabinets and from the look of it several chunks of wall. Angel stood, slightly shocked, watching the devastation of what was once a corridor, as Cordy approached the commotion and stood tentatively behind him. Illyria spotted the two of them, her blue eyes glowing with a blind madness that could rival Dana's. Instinctively they both moved back slightly.
"Similarities! Occurrences! This.. these events! They're happening backwards! Nothing is correct, nothing is the way it was planned to be," Illyria yelled at them angrily, advancing a few steps. "These are nondeterministic polynominal occurrences!" she proclaimed, looking around at the walls as though they were debating her bizarre statement. "I am bound by this plane, these restrictions, this physical.. dementation! I'm trapped here!"
Angel took a step forward, "Illyria.." he began.
She interrupted him with a primal yell of rage. "These WALLS! THEY BIND ME HERE!" she roared furiously, and in violent anger lashed out a powerful fist and smashed a hole in the wall on her left, the debris flying across in front of her as she swung her hand back. Then she stopped, her outward display of terrifyingly open emotion drawing inward once more. She pulled back, retreating slightly, staring at her hands and no longer addressing Angel or Cordelia, "We bind.. ourselves.."
Then her eyes flicked up and met with Angel's and her voice seemed imperious and commanding (or in other words, relatively normal) once more. "I thought I understood things. This place. This world. Myself. I understand.. love.. hope. But.. it doesn't matter. None of it matters! I am broken, and this world, it is too! It is all wrong; all fading, self destructing.. illogical. The physical matter here will not last long enough for the world to see it's end, and time will not bend for it so that it may. I cannot fix it now, for I am weak, powerless.. mortal. I must accept what I have become, and what yet I will change to be. Even if I wish not to." Her head tilted to the side and she looked thoughtfully at Cordelia, "And yet death does not bind us all. For those who once walked in the shadowy realm of nothingness now return to the light," she looked at Angel, her expression demeaning somehow, "such as it is."
She lifted her hand and pulled out a strand of her blue hair, holding it in front of her eyes. "It is the same with.." she paused slightly and then in a different voice finished with "..me."
Cordy leaned towards Angel and whispered, "Is she always, you know.. this insane?"
Angel frowned and leaned back to answer her, "Well she's usually fairly insane, but not quite like this. She's been through a lot."
They looked back at Illyria, who was now glaring at them. "Whispers," she accused. "I can taste the fear and the darkness and the indecision. I cannot stay here while this is happening. There is too much internal conflict; and this place makes it stronger."
She turned around and began to walk purposefully, gracefully and yet angrily back down the corridor towards the back wall.
"Illyria, wait-" Angel began and started after her, but before he could do anything, Illyria had taken a monumentous swipe at the wall ahead of her, breaking open an exit for herself. Light poured in through the hole, and Angel backed off hurriedly, stumbling into Cordelia but managing to escape the direct sunlight.
Illyria turned to look back at them before leaving, and in her eyes Angel saw something of the emotions she had been trying to contain. He saw insecurity and fear – fear of the unknown. And with a shock he saw something else, just before she turned and jumped out through the battered, gaping wall into the blazing sunlight - where he could never follow. In the much-too-human expression Illyria had unwittingly exposed, Angel had seen a first glimmer of hope.
Buffy Summers sat kneeling on the floor, holding a hair pin out in front of her. She looked up at Spike in surprise when he opened the door.
"Buffy!" Spike said, also quite surprised. "What.. why are you trying to pick my lock?"
Buffy brushed off her jeans as she went to stand up. "Well.. you weren't answering.. and kicking it down just seemed so.. unseemly."
"Oh.. well.. still.." Spike mumbled. He stared at her, feeling a familiar swooping sensation in his gut as he breathed in her smell.
Buffy looked back at him and rubbed her hands together and bobbed on the spot a little. "Um.." she said, her nose twitching a little. It was very cute. "Aren't you going to invite me in?"
"Oh, er.." Spike said, looking over his shoulder; Dana was still asleep. He looked back at Buffy, who had now raised an eyebrow and was trying to look around his person and into the basement apartment. "Erm, well.. no," he replied, feeling a surge of irritation at Dana for being in his apartment at the time. He moved out into the corridor, pushing her backwards and up a few stairs as he closed the door behind him.
"No?" Buffy asked, her raised eyebrow very pronounced now.
"Yeah well, it's a total pig-sty, you really wouldn't want to come in," Spike lied unconvincingly.
"Are you sure you don't just have someone in there?" Buffy questioned, and, he may have been imagining it, but she looked almost.. just.. a little bit.. maybe.. jealous?
"Is something wrong?" Spike asked, ignoring her query, but hating himself for being blunt with her. He wished strongly that the situation had been different. He would have relished making all that pointless conversation right now, inviting her inside.. talking a lot more.. making up for his phone message.. getting her to understand how much of a dopey ponce The Immortal really was..
Buffy gave a half shrug. "Not really anything wrong. It's just.. you seemed odd earlier, I just wanted to-"
"Well I'm fine. Thanks for your concern," he said matter-of-factly, thinking about The Immortal and not feeling quite so pleasant towards her.
She looked a little bit hurt, and Spike felt guilty almost instantly. "Well.. the.. we.." she stopped as she was stumbling over her sentence; she started again. "The Slayers had a little meeting last night. I heard that you spoke with Teresa McKinnon. She said you were looking for Dana."
"Teresa McKinnon? Oh! Er.. tall black girl? Fairly pretty, short on brains, dresses like a harlot?" Spike asked, remembering his encounter with her.
Buffy frowned at his description, "Umm.. that's her. She said she ran into you near a night club while she was patrolling-"
"More like selling herself out for some extra cash.." Spike muttered, rolling his eyes.
"-and said you were looking around for Dana," Buffy finished, glaring at his interruption in a scolding sort of way.
Spike shrugged. "True," he told her.
"And?" Buffy asked, spreading her hands and waiting.
"Well it's an ongoing case," Spike replied, making it sound as though he had come home empty handed. He didn't like lying to Buffy, but bending the truth made him feel slightly better.
"You don't have any idea where she could be?" Buffy probed further.
Spike leaned back against his apartment door. "I have lots of ideas; I just don't have facts."
"Well," Buffy said, sighing. Spike was being difficult and she was tired. "If you get some facts let me know. Dana's out there and she's dangerous, we need to get her back before she does something else.."
"Do you think.." Spike started, "that she has done anything yet? Any murders or crimes?"
"We're not sure, but we don't think so. We've been hearing rumours that she was cleaning out the demon population quite well when she arrived in L.A. though.."
Something clicked in Spike's brain. "Oh! Of course! Emissary of hell.. or heaven. Same thing really; for a vampire."
Buffy looked confused. "What?"
"Oh, just something a crazy vamp told me in a bar a couple nights ago. Rambling on about how some emissary had come to.. "purge" the locals or something like that. Maybe he meant Dana," Spike explained, Gunn and Connor's theories on the Camarilla floating into his mind too.
"Buffy," Spike said, looking up at her, his expression changed.
"Er.. yes Spike?"
"You're not safe with him. The Immortal-"
Buffy rolled her eyes, "Oh don't start that up aga-"
"I'm serious, Buffy. This isn't some revenge prejudice I'm going on here, despite the fact the guy is a complete wanker; he's up to something evil and I don't want you to get hurt. Cordelia had a vision-"
"Spike," Buffy interrupted, sounding irritated. "Look, know how you feel but I know what I'm doing. It's none of your business anymore-"
"Anymore?" Spike repeated, then crossed his arms. "You know we never actually broke up."
Buffy gaped at him, "You died!" she accused loudly.
"That's completely beside the point-"
"What was I supposed to wait around for you to come back? Because of course, I knew that was likely to happen - especially when you didn't tell me for months when you were swanning around with Angel and Wolfram and Hart-"
"Swanning around? SWANNING around?" Spike cut her off in indignation. "Since when have you ever said "swanning around" Buffy? That's something he says isn't it? He's infecting you with his cute little phrases and his stupid pizza-pie accent and-"
Buffy stopped him, touching his arm. "Look Spike. I'm not in love with him, we're not getting married, and we're not living happily ever after or anything like that. I am just.. having a relationship. One without all the depth and.. pain of my past relationships. It's just.. a thing," she explained.
"He's the enemy," Spike told her. "He's plotting against you all."
Buffy sighed. "Look I'm not telling him the trade secrets of being a slayer or anything-"
"But you're ignoring him as a threat Buffy, and he is one-"
"Look," she said with forced-patience, "My primary concern here is Dana. She's my mission, she's why I'm back in America in the first place and I need to find her."
"Well I can't help you Buffy," Spike mumbled, looking at his feet.
"You can't or you won't?" she countered, putting her hands on her hips. "Because I can't believe that you wouldn't help me out with information about the woman who chopped off your hands just because you can't stand my new boyfriend!"
"I'm not – what – you think I'm really that self centred? You have no clue what you're talking about, so don't pretend to understand how I feel about all this."
Buffy gave him an exasperated look. "Well you're certainly not being forthcoming about your emotions, so how am I supposed to tell?"
Spike groaned and put his hand up to his face for a moment. "It doesn't matter, I'm sorry – I just – I've got a lot on my mind right now.."
"So do I, Spike," she said quietly. "Anyway I have to go, I have to call T.I. and I-"
"TEE EYE!" Spike repeated in horror, gaping at her. " 'T' 'I'! As in 'The' 'Immortal'?"
Buffy blushed, looked downward and mumbled something that may have been "Well it's a bit of a mouthful.."
Spike on the other hand, looked skyward and gave a sad sort of laugh, "Oh god, what did I do to deserve this?"
Buffy looked back up at him, irritation taking control over her embarrassment. "What is that supposed to mean?"
He shrugged and put his hands behind his head, looking wearily; his body language clearly displaying he didn't want to talk about it.
"No I want to know," Buffy started hotly, "So what if he has a dorky nickname – what is really going on with you? You're so different and I'm not sure I.." she trailed off and shook her head as though reconsidering saying what she was thinking.
"What?" Spike bit back, looking at her again, his defined cheek bones standing out even more so as he pursed his lips. "Just because I'm not bubbling with joy that you're off shagging someone that I violently hate, you automatically assume it's a problem on my end?"
"No Spike - you are different! It's not just this .. me and The Immortal thing – it's," she paused, frowning, "You're.. just different."
"Yes well I've been through a lot recently; things change," he replied. "And I have changed, and yes – as hard as you might find it to believe, grown as a person. I've saved the world since I last saw you. Twice! That sort of thing tends to have an effect on your outlook on life."
She looked about to apologize but Spike ploughed on anyway, "And no, it doesn't help when I see the woman I love swanning around with some fake-Italian ponce who wears a tux to bed!"
Spike watched Buffy's lips part silently as they looked at each other. She broke the contact and looked away, troubled sadness lining her face.
When Spike spoke again his voice was softer, "You didn't think I had stopped did you? Time won't heal my wounds Buffy.."
"Spike-" Buffy started, the look of patient "I'm sorry" sadness on her face. He cut her off; he didn't need to hear this.
"It doesn't matter," he said, looking over at a patch of wall that was growing mould on it. "You need to go and call Tee Eye, so I won't keep you."
"I-"
"We'll talk some other time. I can't help you now."
Turning away from Buffy, Spike put the key he had been fumbling with in his pocket into the keyhole of his door and then pushed it open. Dana was sitting in the bed, awake and staring at him as he came into the room. Spike moved to close the door quickly behind himself, preventing her from being spotted by the other slayer who was standing in his hallway, and at the same time cutting himself off from the woman he loved.
The minute the door was shut he slumped down on the floor, and groaned quietly, lifting his hand to his eyes again. His extra sensitive hearing picked out every step Buffy took up the staircase; each one making him feel even more miserable than he had before.
"So she's gone then?" Gunn asked, looking at Angel.
Angel nodded numbly, his face set with a brooding expression.
"Should we go after her?"
Angel shrugged, "Probably. She's a powerful demon, she's certainly dangerous."
Gunn frowned, "I don't think she's hurt anyone.. not anymore.."
Cordelia snorted dubiously and Gunn turned to look at her. She raised her eyebrows, "Clearly you haven't been upstairs yet."
He looked confused; Cordy elaborated. "Imagine dragon through the front door – but spread out across a whole hotel floor."
"Oh right," Gunn said, looking up at the ceiling as though expecting to see debris falling from it.
"Yep," said Cordy, pushing her face into her hand as she leaned on the counter, looking morose. "No idea how we're going to afford to fix it all up." She glared at Angel, and then like Gunn she looked at the ceiling, although her expression was cross.
"Why couldn't we get a 'These rich people are in trouble – here, save them and get a very healthy reward' vision for once?" she demanded of the heavens. "Instead you give us some confusing, long term, pain in the butt, no leads, not-going-to-get-payed-for-helping mission about vampires and slayers! Tuh!"
Angel was almost smiling. "Cordy.. you're backsliding."
"I know," Cordelia whined, sinking down into a chair. "I just hate being poor. Agh! This is all your fault Angel! You and your 'not-thinking-for-the-future-we're-all-going-to-die-so-what-difference-does-it-make-anyway'.. ness!" she accused him angrily. "Where was your ray of hope? The forethought that you all might not die? You think I would give you a vision and a mission to save the world if you were just going to end up a big pile of dust having not made any difference? Hell no! Who do you think I am? Frodo?"
Angel looked sort of embarrassed, and so did Gunn. "Well.. at the time.." he began.
Cordy sighed and brushed his excuses aside with her hand. "I'm sorry, my bad. I'm just uptight and ranting makes me feel better. What were we talking about?"
"Illyria," Angel said in a resigned tone.
"Oh yes," Cordy said nodding, "The psychotically mad demon lady who destroyed half of our home, how could I forget?"
"I'm thinking if we spread out we can-" Angel started and then stopped, sitting up straighter, his expression altered suddenly.
"-total the damages and bill her?" Cordelia finished for him, a questioning look on her face as she tried to read Angel's mood.
He held up his hand and tilted his head, and then they all understood. They had uninvited guests.
Gunn looked sharp and moved stealthily, despite his injury, over to the weapons cabinet and quietly removed his axe. Cordy reached under the counter and unbuckled a sword that she'd had the foresight to place there, and looked up for instructions.
Angel signalled quickly that the intruder was on the floor above them, and the three of them began to make their way the staircase. Half way up however, Cordy thought she saw something in the office. She turned and stared, distracted. The boys continued up the steps, not noticing Cordy had stopped following them.
Cordelia squinted, taking a step backwards to try and see better. Something was wrong..
She looked back up the stairs, but Angel and Gunn were gone. She was about to call them back down, because she was sure there was something down here on the ground floor, when someone put a hand over her mouth. Her arms were bound quickly and tightly as she struggled to free herself, and suddenly there were people all around her. They wore black clothing and black cloaks that covered their faces, but from what Cordy could barely make out they looked fairly human.
She flailed aimlessly, grunting and trying to make her legs his something to make a crash or a thump or.. any kind of sound. But before long she felt pain across the back of her head, and everything went dark.
"I'm a slayer," Dana told Spike suddenly as he gave her dinner in bed, handing her a plate of food that he had made up for her. Spike met her eyes, his caution senses tingling.
"I know," he said carefully.
"The Chosen one. One girl in all the world. One made to fight.. one made to kill. Now.. one of many," she said, then took a bite of the sausage he had cooked for her. Spike sat down on his couch, not eating. He had decided drinking a pint of blood around her might not be the best idea. In her present state of mind she was relatively calm.. he didn't want to set her off.
"Um.. yeah," Spike nodded, striking up what he hoped was a conversation. "Willow did a spell, made it so all the potential slayers in the world became.. well slayers. It's why you have your powers.."
"Willow is a tree," Dana announced. Spike raised an eyebrow at her, then shrugged, dropping the subject.
She finished eating her sausages and vegetables in silence, then when she was done hopped out of bed carrying the plate and cutlery back to the sink. Spike leapt up to intercept her, "You- you don't have to do that. You're injured-"
Dana looked down at herself, putting her spare hand to where a large white bandage was taped across her belly. "I'm a slayer," she repeated, continuing to hold her side. She looked up at him, "I'll be fine."
Spike stepped back, nonplussed, as she walked to the sink and began to clean her plate. She continued to wash the plate even after it was no longer dirty, her hands scrubbing the white china, her mind off thinking of other things.
"It's.. darkness," she said, blinking furiously as she wiped the plate over and over, "I.. it's me."
She closed her eyes finally, sighing as tears welled up around her squeezed shut lashes. "Years and years all I saw was cold stone and empty beds and hollow comfort.. I couldn't move I couldn't.. couldn't step out from my mind. All I saw was him, and the world he took away from me."
Her lips began to tremble and she shook her head slightly, "But now.. all I am now.. is darkness and anger and death and destruction. Life can't go backwards. I can't fix it. I'll never be.. I'll never be a princess. Or an angel. Or anything other than darkness.."
She shuddered, tears dripping down her soft cheeks and onto her shirt. Spike moved over to her; wanting to put a reassuring arm around her, to tell her she was wrong, to comfort her in some way.. but he didn't know how to. Not with Dana.
She opened her eyes, and turned her head to look at him. "All I know is death. I remember I see.. I can't.. I have so much anger! I can't get it out I just I.. I just turn and destroy and take away and kill and break and melt away into a shadow.. but all I am is this darkness..
"..I'm.. a monster.."
She let out an anguished sob and squeezed her hand over the plate she was washing, crushing it with a silence breaking crash. She gasped and stared at her hand, where bits of the shattered china had cut into her. Blood oozed out of the wounds.
Spike's inaction broke and he moved over to help her, but she pulled back from him, holding her bleeding hand and shaking her head. "Oh god.. god I'm so broken.. so damaged so.. so dark! I HATE IT!" she yelled finally and then collapsed on the floor, clutching her bleeding hand and sobbing furiously.
Spike bent down next to her, pulling her close to him, even as she fought him half-heartedly, crying hysterically and mumbling words every now and then. He held her tightly until she broke her struggle and slumped, sobbing onto his shoulder. Spike's mind raced with guilt, indecision and weariness.
"What life has made you Dana.. your past.. and the things that happened to you.." he told her as she wrapped her arms around him and cried into his neck, "..the things you did. It's not your fault-"
She let out a disbelieving sob and in a muffled voice cried, "I still see it! It wasn't someone else, it wasn't a dream. It was me.. blood and bones and knives.. It was all me-"
"I know," he cut her off, gently unfolding her out of his embrace so he could look at her. He put one of his hands on her cheek and pulled her eyes into his, trying to ground her in reality. "But you can't go back now. You can't wish it all away, you can't hide from it, as much as you want to sometimes. It hurts and it's not easy, but you have to know the truth, because that is the only way you'll be able to recover. The things you did – it isn't your fault; you're not an evil person.. the darkness within you – you can make it go away.."
Dana closed her eyes again and tilted her head back, burning with pain that had nothing to do with her physical injuries. "I was just like him.." she said in a terrified whisper, "..the things I did.. all me.. all my hands that-" she stopped and opened her eyes and stared at Spike in horror. She held up her bleeding hand to touch the hand he had rested on her face, holding his fingers in hers. She sobbed again, her broken mind magnifying memories of pain and suffering and hiding the few good ones she still had left. She said, "You're not him and I.. I.. look what I did to you.."
"No," Spike said, shaking his head and making her look at him again, "I'm fine now, you won't ever need to feel guilty about what you did to me. In hind sight it was probably for the best.."
She frowned at him, giving him a look like he was crazy. That was certainly ironic.
"Ok so it wasn't the most fun I've ever had, having my limbs removed.. but well, nevermind that anyway.. I said I was going to help you Dana and I'm going to help you. Together we can get rid of your darkness, because – I mean – listen to yourself. You haven't done those things since you've been with the slayers have you? Don't you think you're better now?"
Dana looked uncertain, "But it doesn't matter.."
"It does matter!" he told her vehemently, "It means you can change! Means you are changing! Darkness doesn't control you Dana – you're better now, and we can-"
"I.. I killed demons.. and vampires.." she said in a hollow, guilty voice, one of her hands finding Spike's shirt and gripping it tightly. "Hacked and ripped and broke away. I made them suffer and I.. I liked it.."
Spike was momentarily set back (his anxiety level jumped a few metres too) but recovered fairly quickly. "You're a slayer Dana. You're supposed to rid the world of evil.."
"But you're not evil.." she said quietly, Spike's anxiety level climbing higher still and he became very aware of her hand near his neck, clutching his shirt.
"No I'm not.." he replied, equally as hushed.
"And you're a vampire.." she said, her expression unreadable now. Closed and.. caged.
"Yes.."
He partly expected her to break out of her sadness, and go crazy and murderous again, but she did not. The wall blocking her emotions fell though, and her confusion and pain became visible once again. "But then how do I tell?" she asked wildly. "What's good and what's evil? When I can't even tell which one I am? All demons are supposed to be evil; but you're not.."
Feeling relieved she had really started to trust him, Spike tried to comfort her further. "You can tell with me, Dana, so some part of you can make that distinction. To know what's good from what's bad. It is hard to tell sometimes, because you're right.. there are demons out there that are good guys, even though from the outside they might not appear to be."
"But what if I make a wrong choice?" she questioned further, clearly this issue worrying her.
"Well it does happen, but.." he paused when he saw her panicked expression, "but – I'll be there to help you make the right decision. The right choice."
"What if you're not there?" she continued, but she did look a little less terrified.
"I'll be there," he said firmly, and meant it.
She bit her lip and looked down, "What if you're not though.."
Spike sighed and patted her shoulder, "Well for starters the demons that you don't kill are.. well.. me obviously. Um.. Illyria – she sort of looks like a normal pretty girl but she's kind of blue and wears a brown leather outfit and yeah.. she likes to hit people – she's OK though, so she's off the kill list. Lorne, if we ever see him again – green, red hair, horns. Sings a lot and wears terrible bright coloured suits – he's pretty recognisable. Hmm.. oh right – yeah there's Angel too.."
"An angel?" she repeated, looking a little awestruck.
"Oh that's just his name, he's not.." Spike laughed nastily, "he's definitely not 'sent from above' or something like that. He's a vampire like me. We.. we both have souls.. although personally I would say my soul is a lot more pure.."
"Good vampires.." Dana said quietly. "Head and heart no longer.. Souls?"
"It's only the two of us," he assured her. "All the rest of them are still bad. Feel free to stake away.."
"But why you then?" she questioned.
Spike shrugged, "I like to think of it as fate and destiny.. and think that one day maybe I'll be human again. If I save enough people.."
Dana looked sad again, "Maybe I will be too.."
Spike's eyes snapped back to hers and he shook his head and reached out to touch her face again, "No kid, you are human. You've just tasted darkness.. and a world you never should have had to experience. It isn't your fault, but that doesn't make you any less human."
She nodded slightly but lapsed into silence. Spike looked down at her bleeding hand and stood up to go and get something to wrap it with. When he'd found some bandages, he moved back and knelt down beside her again and began to wrap her injury. She held her hand out limply, her face distant again.
Angel and Gunn came running back down the stairs. Cordy's sword lay dejected on the floor next to the counter, but there was no one around.
"Cordy?" Angel yelled, panic rising in his gut. "CORDY!"
"CORDY!" Gunn added, running over to the office. Half way there he stopped, looking a little dazed.
"She's not here," Angel told him, also looking numb. "They distracted us upstairs so they could grab her."
They had found no one on the upper floors, only a wild goose chase of noises and shadows. Angel couldn't track any scents up there; it was only when they came back downstairs that he picked up flavour.
"Who are 'they' though? Who would want Cordy?" Gunn asked quickly.
"I don't know.." Angel said, staring at the floor. He took in a deep breath, trying to pick up the attackers. The scent of Cordelia was trying to overwhelm him, and bile kept creeping up in his throat. It was not a new emotion for Angel, but he felt copious amounts of self disappointment. He couldn't believe he left her here alone. "Vampires," he said after a while, looking over at Gunn. "Three, maybe four. They must have gone out through the basement, because it's still light outside."
Gunn frowned, "Either that or they had a van."
Angel swore violently and kicked the pouf, which went spinning across the floor. "How could I have been this stupid? Why did she stay down here? Gunn, I can't lose her ag-"
He stopped, his nostrils flaring. He could smell something else. He looked at the office. A line of powder was sprinkled across the floor next to the doorway. Being careful not to disturb it, he walked over to the office and squatted down.
Gunn stared at him, blinking furiously and shaking his head.
Angel looked back at him, noticing his reaction. "What do you see here?"
Gunn blinked again, "I.." he started, trying to focus but in the end giving up and looking away. "I can't make it out. There's something.. but I don't know what. Just a confusing blur."
Angel glared at the powder, "Magic. It must do something to distract and affect people's vision. It's not working on me though."
He looked around at the crumbled front door, emotions clawing at him from the inside. He had to get her back.
He had to.
After a few minutes of silence Dana spoke again. "They're coming," she said, her expression dark.
Spike frowned. "Who?" he asked. It seemed he was always lost in these conversations.
Dana blinked, her expression distant, almost hollow. "They come in secret, hidden behind lies.. a masquerade.."
"A masquerade? You.. you mean the Camarilla?" Spike asked her, shocked that she would know about that.
"I see it all the time. It's the end. The end of our world," she said in a dead voice.
Spike groaned, "Oh crap.. they're not doing another Apocalypse are they? I think we've had just about enough of those.."
She shook her head, "I don't know why they took my blood. Slayer blood. But no one would know they stole it.. because it's me.."
"What!" Spike demanded loudly. "The people who attacked you yesterday? They were vampires? They were the Camarilla?"
"Cut me open and left me.." Dana said quietly. "Like I didn't matter enough to finish.."
Spike stretched out and squeezed her arm, "That's not why Dana. You do matter. You're important to me.."
She looked quickly at him, but then looked away again. Spike frowned, thinking. "Why would they need your blood..?"
"I see it all the time. The end.." she said numbly, looking off into nothing again and ignoring Spike's question. "The world is bare and the road stretches on and on with no one left on either side. All who protect are gone.. and all that's left is.. monsters.."
"How do you see this?" Spike asked her slowly.
"It's the circle of time, of life.. of everything. Strong dreams and memories. Tells me visions of the future.."
"Slayer dreams.." Spike mumbled, remembering.
"They're not dreams. It's all real. It's all.. in me.." she said, tears falling down her face. She lifted her legs up to her chin and rocked back and forth, her monologue ended. He stared at her, all vulnerable and hopeless. It made him angry to see her like that, and think what she could've been like if it weren't for the acts of that one person so many years ago..
He touched her arm gently and she stopped moving and looked at him, her big brown eyes displaying a myriad of different emotions, conflicting and indecisive. "It won't be the end of the world Dana," he told her in what he hoped was an inspiring, comforting voice. "There are people who stop that from happening, and I'm one of them. We've done our fair share of world saving, so trust me when I say that we won't be giving up just yet.
"And you're a slayer - remember? It's your job.. um.. well your duty.. to do this stuff too. So don't worry, pet. We'll be alright."
Cordelia groaned and tried to sit up. She couldn't. Cold metal clamped her hands together and her legs were bound tightly with what felt like rope. It felt as though she was on a plain, possibly steel floor, but her eyes were masked and she couldn't see to know for sure.
Waking up on a floor.. again.
Cordy bit down hard on her jaw as she forced herself not to swear. What the hell was wrong with her, getting herself kidnapped and dumped unconscious onto a floor? Floor! Again!
She controlled her emotions and tried to think. She could hear people talking, perhaps outside the cell she was in. If she was in a cell. It did sound like there was a wall between her and other people, that was for sure.
She strained her ears.
"..but she's not! The blood doesn't match! We've bagged the wrong one, Jordan, he's going to kill us!" She heard a voice say.
"We're already dead you moron!" Came the irritated response of another, probably Jordan. "And how were we supposed to know? It's not like they're labelled! Besides, she seemed pretty strong, even with that powder the shaman gave us-"
"-the blood type doesn't match – did you not listen to me? She's definitely not a slayer, which means she's useless and that we're screwed!" the first voice almost yelled.
"Well standing around bitching about it isn't going to solve anything," The one she guessed was Jordan said in a snarl. "We eat her, we dump her body and we go find a real slayer, end of conversation. That blow to the head will keep her unconscious for hours anyway, seeing as she's just human."
"Go find a real slayer? Man, do you know how not easy that is? You do remember the last slayer we tried to get don't you?"
"We would have had her if you hadn't chickened out when we heard someone coming-"
"Me chicken out? I seem to remember-"
But Cordy had zoned out at 'We eat her' and was now desperately trying to free herself of her bonds. She attacked her blind fold with her shoulder, trying to dislodge it, while at the same time trying to push herself into an upright sitting position. There were chains tying her hands behind her back, and her feet were bound together at the ankles with rope, but after a few hurried moments Cordelia pushed herself up off of her side. She sat panting, her shoulder still working away at her blind fold.
The sound of boots approached, and Cordy made the assumption that her captors had indeed decided to eat her. She clenched her teeth and gave a final hearty push with her shoulder that nearly dislocated it, but nudged the blindfold up off of her eyes.
She was in a cell. The walls, floor and ceiling were all lined with steel. It was completely empty save for her, with only one door. She looked down at her legs. Thick, tightly bound rope was tied around her ankles. Cordy tried frantically to loosen the cords but nothing worked.
A key turned in the lock and the ex-cheerleader threw herself back onto the ground, closing her eyes and laying still. The door creaked open and then closed again.
Only one set of footsteps entered, covering the short distance from the door to her side and then pausing. She could hear him muttering under his breath as he bent down next to her.
An ice cold finger reached down to her face and touched her cheek and her blindfold. It took every inch of self control in her to stop from flinching.
The vampire, as she assumed him to be, then retrieved a knife from somewhere, cutting the blindfold off of Cordy's face. She felt the flat of the blade touch her skin, and suppressed another shudder.
After this tender inspection, Cordy felt shocked and almost molested by what the vamp did next. He hoisted her furiously to her feet, holding her shoulders and taking almost all of her weight. Cordy felt her feet touch the ground awkwardly, her ankles bending at odd angles. She hoped she could hold herself upright if he dropped her.
She knew it would happen before she heard it; the vamp well.. he vamped out. His face changed with that strange morphing noise that Cordy always found very disturbing. And that was when Cordy struck. Without opening her eyes she head butted him hard in the face, and he staggered back and dropped her.
Through sheer force of will, the words 'I will not be eaten' flaring throughout her mind, Cordy managed to keep herself from falling over. One of her ankles twisted and snapped horribly, but she balanced herself and had control (and her eyes wide open) when the vamp recovered.
Ugly as sin, the guy lunged at Cordy. Mobility not her strongest asset, Cordy's response was not quite as great as she would have liked it to be. She threw her body at him, shoulder heavy, as he came at her, forcing him into one of the walls. She slammed her shoulder into his face, whacking it hard against the wall with a sharp crack before they both fell onto the floor.
Breathing harshly with the pain from her ankle and the effort that this attack took her, Cordy looked over at the vamp. His neck was broken; which had knocked him out. Knowing that it had not been a quiet scuffle, but praising whatever inner strength had allowed her to manage it (the part-demon thing helping of course) she managed to manoeuvre herself so that she could rummage through the guy's clothes. She had to look over her shoulder to achieve this however, as her hands were chained behind her back, but finally she found a ring of keys that he had tied to his belt.
Unfortunately however, none of them fitted her manacles.
So instead she managed to awkwardly pick up the knife he had used to cut her blindfold off, and after a few minutes of praying that no one was coming, she freed the ropes binding her legs. Groaning and muttering, Cordy got to her feet, hands still shackled behind her back.
Dropping the knife, which was too small and not that much use against vamps anyway, but keeping hold of the keys, Cordy fumbled with the door and let herself out into a corridor.
She didn't have time to look if the coast was clear, and as a result; it wasn't. There was a vamp coming down the corridor that saw her stagger out of her cell and limp as fast as she could straight at him. This must have surprised him, because he didn't find time to cry out that she was lose, or to get out of the way. She crashed into him, her shoulders again becoming useful weapons as she tried to pin him into a wall like the other vamp. Unable to use her hands though, he found room to take the advantage from her. He pushed her hard away from him, got to his feet and then punched her hard in the face, three times.
Cordy fell against a wall, her energy used up and fatigue taking hold on her. She groaned, her right shoulder feeling extremely dislocated now, her left ankle broken and her face and jaw screaming in agony. Pain coursed through her; her injuries arguing with her brain over which was hurting most. The vampire approached her, grabbing her limply hanging arm and twisting it, causing her to yell.
"You're not a slayer," he told her, sneering. He was already vamped out, so he didn't need to put on a different face for the occasion. "But you're not human.."
Cordy laughed bitterly. "No," she whispered as she found her throat dry. "I'm human. You're just a really crap vampire."
He reached out and clutched her face, squeezing her cheeks together. His expression was not the sort you would want to see worn on anybody in a position to take your life.
Conversation ceased and Cordy knew she was too tired to resist. The vampire shoved her roughly against the wall again, pressing his body next to hers as he bared his fangs at her. She groaned, trying to struggle but not getting anywhere. Blood dripped down her wrists where the metal restraints cut into her skin.
No one was coming to save her now. Angel wasn't going to leap out of the shadows and beat this guy off of her then carry her to safety. There wasn't going to be a team of people sweeping down the corridor, clearing the building and leaving her to collapse into the arms of a friend or loved one.
Cordelia was alone. She only had herself, and she'd been run raw already.
He bit her.
Cordy screamed once, her vision turning red as she sank lower down the wall. He drank deeply and Cordy's mind seemed to cloud. She felt herself sliding into a hazy world of confusion, her thoughts mixing together and memories flashing in front of her eyes.
I will not be eaten. A voice echoed loudly, somewhere in her mind. I will NOT be eaten. I WILL NOT BE EATEN.
Blood flowed; she tried to stay conscious.
I.. WILL.. NOT.. BE.. EATEN!
And so Cordy did what would come naturally to many women around the world, faced with a male attacker bigger and stronger than them. Using strength she didn't know she had left, a power that had bubbled up inside her with her last streak of defiance, Cordy's instincts kicked in.
Her leg bent, and with an insane, desperate blow she kneed the vampire squarely in the nuts.
His teeth ripped the puncture wound in her neck open wider as his feeding broke and he fell off of her, gasping in pain and falling to the floor. A spatter of her blood dropped from his lips.
Cordy kicked him again, with as much strength as she could manage, in her weakened, near-death state.
And then she ran.
Illyria opened a box. A book, four pencils, a whiteboard marker and a porcelain cup lay inside. She picked up the book, flipping through the pages. Thoughts rushed through her mind, but she couldn't make sense of them. A throbbing behind her eyes made her feel trapped in her own skull. She had wanted to get away from all these memories.. they made her feel weaker.. stranger.. confused.
It was why she had left the hotel. Why she had fled.
But she had no where to go, and she had wound up here, in Fred's apartment.
Illyria swallowed, human emotions drowning her, as she surveyed the room. Things from Fred's office had been sent back here and they lay in dejected boxes all around her. She had been looking through them, even though she didn't understand why. It was so frustrating to her to be stuck in this state of madness and indecision. She kept questioning all her actions, her thoughts, her decisions, her feelings. Why couldn't she just go on? Why did everything little thing have to matter to her?
A tear slid down Illyria's cheek, but she didn't notice. She was staring at a soft toy that was placed delicately on Fred's bed. Wesley had probably done that.
Illyria fought down another wave of emotion as she walked over to the bed and picked up the toy. It was a rabbit.
I was born here, she thought, looking up at the ceiling. Is that why I've come back?
She turned, ever confused, to look over her shoulder and caught a glimpse of herself in the broken mirror.
Illyria's hands tightened around the bunny as she looked as she stared at the mirror. Her reflection was wrong.
She wasn't supposed to look like that.
Gunn and Angel had followed both possible trails that the vampires could have followed and still found nothing. Something was blocking Angel's ability to track, and he worried again that they were using magic to prevent him from finding her. Who would want to kidnap Cordy? Was it a survivor from Wolfram and Hart perhaps? Someone who wanted to make her pay for expelling the evil from this dimension?
For some reason Angel didn't think that was the case.. he had a feeling this all had something to do with Cordy's vision. The vampires could be part of the Camarilla.. working for The Immortal. But if that was the case he didn't know where they would take her, or why they would want her in the first place.
He had tried calling Buffy, to see if she knew anything about where the Camarilla were located here in L.A. but she hadn't picked up and she hadn't returned his calls.
Angel stalked through the sewers, trying to come up with a trace.. a smell.. some sort of lead. Anything. But he just couldn't find her.
Cordy's right arm hung limply at her side, blood oozed from her neck and her hands, her ankle was almost refusing to work and the left side of her face was starting to puff up with bruises. She looked like hell, she felt worse, but still she pushed on.
She couldn't really run. Her equivalent of a run was dragging her limp, throbbing left leg along as quickly as she could while throwing the other side of her body forward on her right leg. It hurt, it looked ridiculous, but it was working.
Panic was trying to consume her, but she managed to fight it down. She had to get out, she had to get home. She couldn't stop and rest, she couldn't sit down, she couldn't take a break. Because then she wouldn't be able to get back up, to continue. And she would die.
So she pushed on.
The building was full of corridors and rooms, but hardly any people or vampires or.. whoever was in charge here. She tried to record the things she saw.. so she could be helpful when she got back home.. but she was in too much pain to register many thoughts other than finding a way to escape.
Finally, after shuffling through laboratories full of bubbling, gurgling liquids, ducking around corridors and hiding from what looked like agitated scientists, Cordy found an elevator.
Or more accurately, she found two elevators.
She pressed the up button, feeling slightly dreamlike as she waited next to the white doors, covered in bruises, blood and injuries. Up or down, was probably a hard choice, but vampires probably had their offices in the basement levels. She hadn't seen a window yet.
She looked around herself with anxiety, uneasy there was no alarm that had gone off and no stream of security vamps or whatever running through the corridors looking for her. Maybe they hadn't found the two vampires she'd downed yet, or maybe those two didn't want anyone to know she'd got free.
Ding.
The noise brought Cordy out of her thoughts with a jump and she looked around wildly. The little lights above each elevator had turned on, and both elevator doors creaked open.
One lift was blissfully empty. One was filled with vampires. About seven of them, all wearing black cloaks. As the door had opened they all turned and stared at her, and she at them. There was a strange surreal pause when nothing happened.
Then Cordy threw herself into other elevator and looked at the buttons.
She pushed the "ground" button, which was in about the middle of the mess of buttons. A yell of confusion came from the occupied elevator, and just as the doors swung shut she saw swish of black fabric as the vamps came running out into the corridor.
Cordy breathed, terror pumping through her veins as she leaned next to the elevator wall. She wanted to just collapse.. to sink down the wall onto the floor and die.
Die..
No.. she'd done that before, and it sucked. Well, she couldn't remember it, so therefore it must have sucked. She was not going to give up her second chance at life just because of a few bumps and scratches or because she was tired.
OK, so they might not be bumps and scratches.. she might be running on a severe lack of blood and she might only be surviving on pure determination, but.. she wasn't dead again yet.
Not yet..
The elevator "dinged" again, and the doors slid open. Cordy peered out. The room was gloomy and dark, unlike the white coated walls of upstairs. There was a man sitting behind a desk on the left side of the room, reading a book. There was a door at the far end of the room. A door that might lead out of this hell.
Well, it was her last hope.
She stumbled out of the elevator, looking around again to see if there was anyone else about. She could hear the distant rumbling of the other lift. Cordy groaned, pushing her right leg out and limping forward, as fast as she could towards that door.
The man behind the desk looked up, and she caught his eye. He was wearing black, just like the other vamps. His eyes widened as he stared at Cordy. He slowly got to his feet.
"How did you get up here?" he said, almost to himself it seemed. He didn't look particularly worried about her escaping though, which made her agonize about the door being an exit.
She ignored his question in any event, and hurried as fast as she could with all her painful, horrifyingly ugly injuries, towards the door anyway. He was just moving out from behind his desk, taking measured steps over to her when the other elevator arrived on the ground floor and dinged open. The desk-vamp turned and stared, and Cordy threw a glance over her shoulder.
The black cloaked vampires piled out of the lift, looking around and then spotting Cordy. They shouted and began to run across the room towards her. She let out an anguished cry as she tried to make the last few metres to the door, her hands clenched tightly behind her, her leg throbbing and tears stabbing her eyes.
She made it to end of the room; her dislocated shoulder crashing into what felt like another steel door as she tried to push it open. She wailed as the pain coursed through her and the door didn't move. The vampires had slowed down and were slowly walking in towards her.
"It's locked," said the desk-vamp. He smiled in a way that made Cordy's neck hairs defy gravity. "You can't get out. You can't escape. You've tried and you've failed miserably.. you disgusting creature. The door is stronger than the toughest slayer can break. You can't get out."
Cordy's lip curled in defiance. Clearly the word about her not being a slayer hadn't caught on yet.
"You're the Camarilla," she mumbled, turning to face them and putting her back against the doorframe. Her hands touched the handle and the lock.
"So you know.." one of the other vampires said.
Cordy titled her face upwards. "Everybody knows," she whispered quietly. "I just knew it first. I have a knack for that. It's actually.. a funny story."
"Someone take her back upstairs.." another vamp said, looking at her with distaste. "The smell of all that un-poisoned blood is making me want to feed on rodents.."
One of the others shot him a warning look, but Cordy was only half paying attention.
"Well bumpy faced people," she managed, smiling slightly despite everything. "I'd love to stay and let you try to kill me some more but.. well.."
There was a click and the door behind her fell open. A stream of sunlight poured in and the vamps shrieked and backed away. Cordy turned and stumbled into her salvation, the light shining down on her, brighter than she could ever remember. The keys she had taken from that first guard dropped from her exhausted fingers to the ground behind her as she hobbled out into a street, bathed in the wonderful sanctuary of light. Cars rushed up and down what seemed like a normal Los Angeles road.
Cordelia smiled, her face hurting as she did so. She'd made it. She'd escaped.
Stupid vampires.
She took another step down the footpath, savouring her victory. And then she collapsed.
Hours after sunset, despair filling him at his failure to come up with any leads, Angel slumped back into the hotel lobby. Gunn looked over at him from the steps, where he was sitting. They shared a look. Neither of them had any ideas on where to find Cordy.
The phone rang. Angel rushed over to the counter and fumbled with the receiver as he tried to answer the call as quickly as possible.
"Hello?" he said in a rushed voice.
Gunn looked up, his eyes questioning.
"Yes, yes that's me," Angel was saying, his expression a three course meal of broodiness.
"..what?" Angel looked over at Gunn, his eyes widening. "Yes.. I.. I'm on my way."
He hung up.
"What's happening?" Gunn asked as Angel began to walk towards the hotel's unprepared entranceway. The tall dark man stood up and followed Angel's footsteps as they left the hotel and headed out into the garden.
"The police found her," Angel told him as they moved. "She's in the hospital."
"Who, Cordy?" Gunn got Angel to confirm as they reached the street. "Is.. is she going to be OK?"
They got into Gunn's car. Unlike Angel, the street-fighter-turned-lawyer-and-back-again had had the wisdom to keep his vehicle in a separate location to the Wolfram and Hart underground basement.
"I don't know," said Angel, throwing a nervous look at his friend. "They didn't say."
"Call Spike," Gunn suggested as he started up the car.
"What?" Angel protested. "Why?"
Gunn gave him an exasperated look. "Because we might need support? If whoever it was that took Cordy comes back to try and get her again?"
"Oh.." Angel said, making a face. "Yeah.. I guess."
Dana was asleep again when the phone rang. The noise jerked her awake and she sat up sharply, tension coursing through her body. At least she didn't launch into a stream of yelling.
Spike briefly put a hand on her shoulder as he made his way over to the phone, reassuring her that nothing was wrong. He picked up the phone, pushing it next to his ear and saying his introduction while he stared across the room at Dana.
"Spike, it's Angel."
"Oh hey," Spike said, settling himself onto the couch. "How's the forehead?"
"Shut up Spike-" Angel started, launching into the story about Cordelia's abduction and then the news that she was in hospital.
Dana watched Spike absorb this news, his face growing more serious the longer the phone conversation went on.
"So you need me to come down there?" Spike asked, shooting a worried look at Dana. Could he leave her here again? He couldn't really stay in his apartment for the rest of his life.. and neither could she. But he couldn't take her with him. Oh bloody hell..
"We think that whoever took her might try and come back for her. Also I want to be able to track them down once we've talked to her," Angel's voice went on.
"What so she's conscious?" Spike probed.
There was a pause and then, "I don't know yet. The police didn't tell me much."
"Right. I'll be there as soon as I can," he told Angel finally, suppressing a frustrated series of sounds, and hanging up.
He looked at Dana. "I have to go out again," he explained, trying to express in his voice how bad he felt about leaving her. Her brown eyes swallowed him for a few moments, then she nodded slightly.
"I'll be back as soon as I can, OK? Don't leave here, and don't open the door to anyone alright?" he said, moving over to her.
"Trapped again," she stated, but it sounded almost like a question.
"No, no – I'm sorry, it's just for a little while. There's just someone I need to help right now," Spike said hurriedly, taking hold of her hand as he sat down on the bed. "I'll be back soon. You're not a prisoner, it's just safer for you to stay here until I come back."
Dana nodded again, looking away. "You have so many people to save," she whispered. "It matters."
Spike stood up off the bed and moved to the door, taking a couple of stakes with him as he went. He looked back at her as he left, but she was still facing away from him.
She better be here when I get back, he thought as he let himself out.
Dana looked back over her shoulder as the door shut.
"Don't leave me .." she mumbled, knowing he couldn't hear her anymore. She shifted on the bed, pulling the blankets up around herself again and wincing as her stomach stretched as she moved. The injury was healing fast but it still caused her a lot of pain.
She fixed her eyes on the door, one hand clutching her matted black hair and the other still holding onto one of Spike's sheets. The room had been purged of sound and she felt terribly alone.
After a few moments her lips pursed together and her hand fell from her hair onto the bedspread.
"They're coming.." she whispered into the silence.
END CHAPTER
One ref: Umm.. oh right.
"Willow is a tree" Band candy! Yes, we all love that episode.. Buffy: Season Three. It's one of the teachers from the Sunnydale High school who's gone and got smashed at The Bronze. She looks at Willow and goes "Willow.. Willow is a tree! Hey there little tree.." or something weirdo like that. Anyways.. I always thought that was funny.
AUTHOR NOTES
Explanation as to why I haven't posted a chapter in over half a year:
I've been sick, as in really quite sick. I've also been working on an original fiction, and I've also had a lack of inspiration to write this baby. I think I've got it back now!
I've had most of this chapter done for like.. four months and just.. haven't found the time to finish the rest of it. There's a lot more I wanted to put into this chap, but decided it could wait until next chap, so things I mentioned in author's notes last chap (oh boy this is getting confusing) obviously haven't happened yet.
I scrapped a lot of those ideas too, as the story took some different turns.
I've already written the opening scene to the next chapter, which should hopefully get me on the path to writing the rest of the chapter fairly quickly.
No Connor + No Immortal: I'm sorry, they'll be there next chapter. At least I sincerely hope they will, as well as some other people you haven't seen for a while.
I'm not trying to overload you guys with characters, it's just I suppose my plots are quite complex and need a lot of things to happen before we get to the really involving "OMG I can't believe THAT happened" bits.
Also Illyria's part got cut short here to make room for all the Spike/Dana and Cordy/kidnapped bits. I'm sorry, she'll be back with hopefully more answers than questions next chapter.
Lack of love: I'm horrible and I don't like sap. I also find it difficult making an OTP.. although it's probably Buffy/Angel although.. hmm.. in my fic there's not a lot of room for that to develop. I'm sure there are lots of B/A happily ever after fics you can read if you want summa that, or Spuffy or Angel/Cordy or whatever. This isn't a romance fic, but I'm not going to ignore the fact that Buffyverse characters have more baggage and tragedy than Opera singers carrying suitcases.
Mixed Drinks: This is bad, and I'm sorry. Hopefully I'm getting back into a rhythm again.
How about some wine, m'dear?
Next Chapter: I will just contradict myself, so the only thing I'll tell you for certain is that there's a hospital scene. Whee, whadda teaser. Mwahahaha.
Read/Review: Pleeeeasssee do :) I need feedback, and 3 all those who give it to me. It helps so much! Please review!