Disclaimer: Angel and the guys I use from it are so far from being mine that you'd need a Star Trek style warp speed spaceship to cross the distance, or die before you get there.
Feedback: Music may be food for the soul, and Italian the food of love, but feedback is definitely the food for hungry authors such as myself, so keep it coming! And it's great to see your thoughts, you clever little reviewers! You guessed my secret, carefully thought out plan, after all my hours of intense structuring and picking of choice words so as not to give it away. Sigh. You're just too good. Oh well, at least you understand what's going on, that has to be a plus! So, as a reward just for you, here is the longest chapter I have even written, full of angsty goodness and, yes, that's right, some mini Wes. (Feel loved, Eloise!)
WARNING: This one contains hints of child abuse, so if you can't handle that sort of thing, I suggest you don't read. It's nothing too graphic, but I know some people may find the implications disturbing.
CHAPTER 5.
None of this stuff was exactly appropriate breakfast material, in fact, health and nutrition experts would probably run screaming at the thought, but Wesley had made the best of a bad situation and improvised. Since he was left alone to look after the creature, he couldn't exactly go out for anything, and even he didn't think a take out was such a good idea at this hour.
Having foraged around in the very sparsely stocked kitchen cupboards, he had come up with a half eaten packet of cookies, a couple of melted candy bars and what appeared to be a box of dry cereal. God knows where this stuff had come from, or how long it had been there, but it was better than nothing.
Crumbs and foil wrappers littered the counter top, the creature sat dead in the middle, tucking into its second bar of chocolate. It hadn't taken much persuasion to get it to try the new food, and now it looked like there was no stopping it.
Wes opened the cereal packet and examined the contents, debating whether or not the teeny bits of unrecognisable fodder looked safe and edible. There was nothing growing on it, which was a good sign, and he pulled a handful out to get a better look. The creature noticed immediately, dropping the mangled remains of its previous meal and scampering forward to see. Taking Wesley's hand in its own, it pulled the food down to its own level, not wanting to miss out on anything tasty he might have found.
Without much hesitation, it had licked Wesley's hand clean, a fact that he wasn't too enthusiastic about, considering. Whilst he regarded his hand with distaste and attempted to wipe it down on the side of his leg, the creature rummaged around some more, pulling out a cookie and holding out to its friend. When Wesley didn't take it, the creature moved forward and pressed it against his mouth, chirping in encouragement. These humans could be pretty stupid at times.
Surprised and somewhat amused, Wesley pushed the creature gently away, taking the cookie from it instead. Adamant that he should eat something, the creature stubbornly refused to leave him alone, pestering him and squeaking until he took a cautious bite. Past their use by date, the soggy lumps of dough were far from appetising, but he suppressed a cringe and kept up the act until the creature was satisfied that its charge had been well fed.
The creature turned back to the rest of the food, and Wesley took the opportunity to throw the rest away and spit in disgust when it wasn't looking. It looked back to check, and he smiled at it in appeasement. If it thought he was going to eat anything else, though, it had another thing coming.
Content for the time being, the little animal got to work sifting through the leftovers for any thing salvageable, becoming confused when a particularly sticky piece of foil attached itself to its fur and refused to be dislodged. Wesley grinned to himself as the creature stared down at its paws in bewilderment, simply transferring the offending piece from hand to hand instead of managing to shake it off.
Rolling his eyes good naturedly, Wesley got to work helping the creature out and cleaning up its chocolate stained fluff, wondering how it was that he had been left with babysitting duty again. He had tried to call Gunn to ask him to pick up a couple of research sources on his way back, but he was stubbornly refusing to answer his phone. And now, Angel had gone off somewhere, probably after Cordelia. He frowned a bit at that thought, realising they'd been gone a while, and he wondered if she was okay.
Dabbing away at little whiskered cheeks like some well-seasoned mother, he decided that, as soon as Angel came back down, he'd go and make sure Cordelia was alright himself and apologise on behalf of his furry friend. Knowing her, she'd probably harbour a grudge against the little thing, and he didn't want that to happen, he felt bad enough about what had happened as it was. In fact, he was pretty sure that was one of the reasons why she had gone off upstairs in the first place. And if previous experience was anything to go by, Angel would probably prove to be pretty much useless on the working-out-the-problem front.
That made Wesley smile, despite his concerns. Maybe it was a bit cruel, but he couldn't help it, and Angel would probably admit as much himself. Wesley could imagine him up there now, most likely without a clue about what was going on.
* * *
"What's going on, Cordelia?" Angel asked when Cordelia remained rooted to the spot, staring down the corridor like she had just seen a ghost. Okay, so maybe that wouldn't have shocked a person like Cordy, what with a housemate like Dennis, but you get the idea. Inspiration struck him and he gasped, starting forward and babbling hurriedly. "Did you have a vision? Is that what it is?"
Cordelia turned to him, her eyes still on the floor, as though she was trying to figure something out. She stepped back when Angel reached for her, holding up her hand to reassure him.
"No, no nothing like that. I'm okay, I just…I thought I saw something, that's all. I'm fine, really."
She looked up at him and saw the concern in his eyes, realising that she probably hadn't fooled him a bit, but instead had gone further towards worrying him into a state of anxiety. She needed time to think. She couldn't deal with his questioning right now, and she certainly wasn't prepared to tell him that she was seeing things and possibly even going crazy. And she'd be damned if she was going to confess to anything so cliché as 'I see dead people'. It was probably nothing, after all, and she didn't want to worry him, just as much as she didn't want to be locked away in a mental institution, thank you very much. She made a mental note to lay off the migraine tablets a bit, and put on her best 'everything's great' smile.
"Angel, don't look at me like that. You'll give yourself wrinkles. Honestly, there's nothing wrong."
The lying wasn't working, and she realised that Angel had probably already heard everything she had done and said, being a vampire and all. Okay, shock tactics needed.
"Angel, can I use one of your rooms? I'm a bit tired."
Angel blinked at her, confused.
"Uh…sure, if you want."
Hadn't she only just arrived for work a few hours ago? Maybe she didn't get much sleep after their long night yesterday. Still, it was a bit odd…
"Are you sure you don't need anything?" he asked, desperate for her to talk without wanting to push her too much. He knew she hated it when he fussed, but he couldn't help himself. If he kept at this much longer, though, she'd be tapping her foot and glaring at him in annoyance.
Cordelia cocked her head and gave him her 'don't be silly' look, then turned to the nearest door and opened it, disappearing into the room without another word. Angel stared at the closed door for a second, taking in everything that had just happened, then decided his next move. This was obviously some kind of female hint thing, and he needed help working it out.
Holding her breath, Cordelia stood and listened at the door, waiting for Angel's retreating footsteps to fade. She hoped she had put him off enough for her to figure out what the hell was going on here. Was she going insane? Had the visions finally pushed her off the edge of some proverbial precipice and into a never ending downwards spiral through hallucinations, psychopathic tendencies and finally complete loss of motor functions? Her brain was a sea of turmoil and conflicting ideas, all fighting for reign in her minds eye. She could see herself strapped to another hospital bed in the crazy ward, with no one able to help and no one to know what was wrong with her. She would not let that happen again. She couldn't.
She sighed heavily and leant back against the reassuringly solid wood of the door, clutching the handle behind her back like it was the thin thread on which she imagined her sanity was holding. Get a grip on yourself, Cor. There has to be more to this.
She silently ran through a list of options, ticking them off on her fingers as she went. First off, she was definitely awake so this was not a dream; a sharp pinch to her leg confirmed that. Maybe she just imagined the whole thing, you know, stress induced, lack of sleep, panic after being attacked by a strange little spiky animal…nah. If huge scaly demons couldn't faze her anymore, then she doubted that Queen C could be freaked like that. Okay, next option, ghosts. Not unheard of, if Dennis and his beloved mother were anything to go by. But then again, she couldn't imagine a paranoia demon occupying the same space as another mystical entity, and for something to show up now after all this time seemed highly unlikely. So that left things like poisoning…
She postponed that line of thought when she heard that eerie sound again, floating around somewhere back outside. Oh God, not again. If she was imagining this as well, then it was definitely because she was going crazy. Otherwise, there was no other way to explain it other than the fact that it was real. And if it was real, she needed answers.
Facing what must have been a demonically/mystically influenced sound, or else fully embracing insanity, she opened the door, stepping back out into the corridor and scanning her surroundings. There was no sign of Angel, a fact that could prove to be both a good and a bad thing. The laughter continued, however, and she turned in its direction, moving along the corridor until she came to the staircase leading up to the next level. There was no doubt that it was coming from up there, but for a moment she hesitated, fearing getting lost in the structurally unsound hotel building where the others might not think to look for her if something went wrong.
She realised now with regret that she had never fully explored the place, and wondered what she would find up there. She considered turning back when a child's cry broke the silence that had followed. That decided it for her, and she raced up the steps, taking two at a time. A mumble of a deep voice reached her ears, the words muddled and indecipherable, but holding an undeniable Irish lilt. The tone was forceful and harsh, sending chills up her spine even as she struggled to understand what was being said.
When she finally reached the top and rounded a corner, the scene before her rocked her to the core. The once cheerful little boy was now subdued, tears streaming down his cheeks as he cowered before a towering figure of a man, whose booming voice still held no meaning. A blow was struck, and the little boy staggered back, bravely trying to stand up to his treatment. The man thrust a large, leather bound book into the boy's hands, a golden cross printed into the cover. He pushed the boy to the floor and yelled further, his demeanour threatening more violence.
It was as much as Cordelia could take. She didn't know who this man was or what he was doing here, but she couldn't stand back and let this happen. She rushed forward in anger, heedless of the warnings the little voice in her head whispered, unconcerned for her own safety.
"No! Stop it!" she cried, aiming for the man's shoulder as she reached out to grab him and spin him around to face her. She lunged, but her hand met nothing more than air, and she plunged forward further down the hallway, coming to an abrupt stop when she realised what had happened.
She turned, utterly bewildered, ready to scream in frustration at the top of her lungs. She swallowed down her rage when, instead of finding an empty corridor behind her, she was confronted with the upturned face of a little girl, large brown eyes searching her face for information.
Cordy stood transfixed, returning the stare. They were the sad eyes of a scared little girl, already turned bitter towards the cruel dealings of the world. Her dark brown, almost black hair flowed down her shoulders in loose ringlets, framing what should have been a beautifully sweet little face, but was instead haggard and shadowed by too many days hiding in the dark.
Before Cordelia had worked up the nerve to say anything, the little girl turned and ran; fleeing back the way Cordelia had come. After a delayed reaction, Cordelia followed, shouting 'wait!', but nonetheless losing ground. The girl disappeared around the corner, and by the time Cordelia reached the staircase, she was out of sight.
That was when she noticed the door to the room opposite her standing ajar, and as she approached, she heard soft sobbing coming from within. Entering the darkened room, almost as background noise, she could hear what sounded like intense arguing coming from the next room, and the sound of things breaking against the walls. A glass shattered next door, and the sobbing heightened, punctuated by a shudder of fear. Navigating around the bed to find the source, Cordelia found the little girl huddled in the corner of the room under a table, her legs drawn up close and hugged protectively, her head buried in her knees.
Cordelia's heart swelled as, out of nowhere, she realised that it was the shouting and fighting that the girl was hiding from. Dressed in a skirt and tights, her legs were somewhat exposed as she crouched, and for the first time Cordelia could see the rips and holes in her stockings, darkening bruises blossoming underneath.
Another smash demanded that she make a move, as loath as she was to leave the frightened child. For some reason, she sensed a need to move on to the next room, maybe to do something about the fighting. It was like she just knew that she was unable to interfere right here, thinking that, like the boy and the man earlier, the little girl was no longer aware of her presence. But, dammit, she could do something about the noise.
Marching quickly out, Cordelia wrenched open the door to the next room, ready to shout out in anger and demand answers. As soon as she turned the handle, however, the noise stopped, as did the sobbing from the little girl. The door instead swung open to reveal an empty room, devoid of any shattered fragments or broken items, and with no marks or dents in the walls. Feeling strangely disappointed, she was about to leave when a sudden movement caught her attention.
Another young boy appeared from nowhere, standing up from his hiding place behind the bed. It was hard to see anything in the dim light, but Cordelia could make out the boys straw like hair, falling in thick curtains over his forehead and framing his hard eyes. A sprinkling of freckles decorated his face, helping to hide the faint smudges of dirt across his cheeks. His clothes were baggy and filthy, but mostly hidden by the blanket he had draped over his shoulders to shield him from the cold. His breath was visible as wispy tendrils, snaking into air that, to Cordelia at least, felt normal for a sunny California day.
The boy looked hungry, but his defiant air seemed to spit in the face of charity, and Cordelia held back her pity. It was clear it would not be appreciated. Cries and mumbles from what sounded like even younger children issued from behind the bed, and the boy turned to face what she guessed were brothers and sisters, still concealed behind him. The hardness disappeared from the boy's eyes, and he ducked down to tend to the pleas.
Cordelia moved around to see for herself, but as she had expected, the boy was gone, and there was nothing there but the usual hotel décor rug. She sighed, wondering what was happening to her, but beginning to suspect that she was coming to some sort of understanding. What she found back in the corridor didn't surprise her as it might have done, and she decided to play along and see where this seemingly endless vision would take her. She was pretty sure this wasn't from the Powers, but she couldn't help wondering if she was going to get the mother of all headaches at the end of it…if there was an end.
Standing before her now in the hallway was a small black boy, his hands behind his back and his feet widely spread, a look of wary curiosity on his face. He was putting on a tough exterior for her benefit, his eyes suggesting a fiercely protective streak in him that went beyond fear.
Cordelia wanted to ask him what he was hiding behind his back, when another tiny head poked its way around the boy's legs to take a peek at her. The soft brown eyes that studied Cordelia shyly belonged to a small black toddler of a girl, her tight curls reaching out endearingly to give her a fluffy appearance. She clutched at the clothing of her protector, not daring to move any further.
Cordelia smiled at the sight, crouching down to their level. Only then could she really see the fear in their eyes, hardened into courage by the simple need to survive. The boy seemed matured beyond his years from a life of living in the streets, no doubt a run away from some children's home or shelter. He stared at Cordelia coldly and raised his little fists at her, daring her to come closer and try to touch them. Her heart twisted at the thought of his deeply embedded mistrust and she backed away, reluctant to cause any more pain.
Angry at whatever force that was forcing her to see all this, her vision blurred, tears welling up in her eyes. She blinked them away hastily, only to find that the brief movement had washed away the two children with the tears, as if they were no more substantial than a mirage. She reached out to the place they had stood, needing to feel for herself to be convinced that they weren't real. All the hurt and the pain she had seen had been real enough, and she was half in denial that these kids didn't exist.
Hoping to hear something more so that she'd have the opportunity to help, she stood rigid, listening for the laughter, the cries, or even the sobbing, anything that would show her the way. But now, strangely, there was only silence. At first, she assumed it to be the quiet of an empty hotel, something natural that she should expect to hear. But, when she concentrated on it, she realised it felt different somehow, it felt hushed, enforced. The quiet of something that doesn't want to be heard. Or someone.
A prickle ran cold fingers down the back of her neck, and she felt as though she was being watched. It could only mean one thing. Turning slowly for fear of what was to come, she came face to face, if that was the term, with another little white boy, this time dressed immaculately from head to toe, not a hair out of place or a speck of dirt to be seen.
Cordelia held her breath, suddenly deciding that she didn't want to play anymore, a tear slipping involuntarily down her cheek. The boy smiled up at her warmly, his blue eyes sparkling behind his glasses. There was no bitterness here, just an innocence that had seemed lost in the others, for one reason or another. Still, in keeping with the running theme, the pureness was tainted, and she could sense it.
The boy continued to gaze openly at her, something akin to wonder in his eyes. Cordelia felt ashamed of her shuddering breaths and bright eyes, and continued to try to tell herself that none of this was real. Nevertheless, the image before her continued to play out, and the little boy brought out an arm from where they were both clasped behind his back, holding his hand out to her to be taken.
She found herself unable to resist and slowly reached down, wanting nothing more than to touch once and for all and discover just how real all of this was. Her fingers came within inches of the tiny offered hand and she stopped, her arm suspended before her. Why she couldn't bring herself to make contact, she didn't know, but she realised too late that it would cost her dearly.
The little boy's smile faltered, and he reclaimed his hand, rejection and disappointment written on his face. He backed away, embarrassment reddening his cheeks, so mortified that he could no longer meet Cordelia's eyes. She wanted so much to take it back, to step forward and undo what had happened, but she realised in dismay that it wasn't her choice to make. In more ways than one, the damage had already been done.
She couldn't move an inch, but was forced to watch the scene playing out before her, however much she wanted to intervene. A haunting voice that only the boy could understand startled terror into him and he ran, searching for escape with the hysteria of one who knows the inevitable will come, no matter what you do. As soon as he had turned the corner, Cordelia found herself chasing his route, suddenly released from her paralysis.
She didn't need to turn the corner to know what she would find. That way laid the staircase to the next floor, and there was plenty of room underneath. Whimpering reached her ears, muffled by the barrier she already knew was there.
She couldn't do this, it was breaking her heart. Instead of following the way put out for her, she stopped, refusing to turn the corner and see what she knew was there.
"Why are you doing this to me?!" she cried out, her frustration finally getting the better of her.
She had know idea who 'you' was, or if there even was one, but the unfairness of the situation seemed unnecessarily cruel to be a coincidence. She squeezed her eyes shut, willing the images to leave, but when she opened them again, still more children looked up at her.
This time, a blonde haired girl pouted at her, and behind, two more children approached, and red haired girl and a dark haired boy, both of which looked uncannily familiar to her in a way that the others had not at first. She realised that she had known these children, had pictures of them to remind her if she forgot.
"W-willow? Xander?"
It was too much. She couldn't bare any more, she had to get away. With that thought, she turned to run, taking the corner too fast and slipping yet again on the blasted carpet of doom. Quivering on the floor, she began to feel dizzy, the floor spinning beneath her and drawing her into panic. She looked up through tear soaked hair to find, standing in the stairwell, all of the children she had seen, their adult selves behind them.
There was Angel, Faith, Lindsey, Gunn and his sister, Wesley, Buffy, Willow and Xander, not to mention a few others from her past that insisted on adding to her torment. All at once she could see the pain and suffering that the group represented, all from a space of the few short years of young childhood life. She offered silent prayer that this would be the last, that she wouldn't have to go on to stage two where only more badness could lie in wait.
The faces of the people she knew looked down on her, their expressions indifferent ad eyes vacant. They weren't real, they had no souls. All the life in them was gone, and only the hurt was showing. She realised now that they didn't let it rule them, the real ones, that is. They were different, better. She focused hard at the phantoms and willed herself to concentrate, to come back to the real world where the good coexisted with the bad, where the whole of these people was.
As she watched, the figures began to fade and she saw a fleeting spark of something she recognised in each return to their eyes, if only for a moment. Angel's beautiful soul was there, as was Gunn's compassion despite adversity. And just before she closed her eyes again, Wesley smiled at her.
* * *
She was almost afraid to open them. What if they were still there? What if it was just a trick and the figures hadn't faded, but only returned to taunt her more? There was only one way to find out.
Cautiously she cracked open one eyelid, then the other, and in a sudden rush of realisation, the truth hit her. She wasn't on the floor in the corridor, in fact, she wasn't even in the corridor at all. She was standing in her chosen room; her back leant on the door and her hand clutching the handle so hard that it was in danger of snapping off all together.
She gasped involuntarily, relieved and confused all at once, and not sure if she had wanted to find that it had all been some weird mind trip or not.
Approaching footsteps and a light rap on the door made her prick up her ears, startling her at the memory of what had just happened. No, not again…
"No! Go away!" she half screamed, running from the door and sinking onto the bed, determined not to pay attention. Wesley's soft voice snapped her out of it, though, and she sat bolt upright, realising what she had just said.
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to disturb you", came the reply, muffled by the door. "I'll go if you want, I can come back later…"
"NO! I mean, no, it's okay. I'm sorry, Wesley, come in."
The door opened tentatively and Wesley stepped in, clearly unsure of himself after her outburst. She cursed her swift tongue as he hovered, searching for the right words. He dithered and stuttered, and Cordelia had to force back tears at the sight, wondering how she was ever going to be able to look these people in the eye anymore.
"Angel said that you, uh, seemed a little…upset, and I just wanted to make sure you were okay. I'm really sorry about what happened and I promise you it won't happen again. Just…please don't be mad."
He fidgeted, waiting for a response, probably expecting to be barked at.
"Oh Wesley", she cried, breaking down, "I'm not mad at you!" She brought her hands to her face and sobbed, finally throwing discretion to the wind. He was by her side in an instant, trying his best to comfort her and asking what was wrong. When she had finally worked up the breath to answer, she looked up at him and said,
"It's a long story. Do you have five hours?"
To be continued…
(I had to assume a couple of things here, in case you were wondering. Firstly, that Cordelia knew about the events of 'I've got you under my skin', and, secondly, that she would have known Xander and Willow in school. If this is wrong, please let me know so I can change it a bit. Thanx! :)