Chapter 43

Valde Ortus. Latin for The Great Rising. Angel was hoping that this great rising was nothing more than a few dozen men in robes calculating how to destroy the world. He could not have been more wrong.

Their wishes to meet a fight were granted as a dozen armed and well trained individuals rushed them. Getting half way down the stairwell, Angel grabbed Will's wrists and threw the other man to the other side of the fight. Launching off the stairs and into the middle of the fray, Angel fought with every fiber of his being. Even the training these men had obviously received was no match for super strength and durability.

After watching the last man fall, Angel turned his attention to the door at the far side of the room. It was unlocked; there were no special deterrents or booby traps. Stepping through, Angel's shoulders slumped at the sight before him. He had miscalculated. Seven men sat slumped onto a round conference table. All of them were dead; foam was coming from their mouths. Sniffing the air, Angel caught traces of the cyanide still lingering in the dead mans' mouths.

Slamming his fists into the wall in frustration, he looked around the room. There was nothing great about it. There were no symbols on the walls, no archaic drawings on the floor. This group wanted to be anonymous. There was nothing that could affiliate them with any hell god or goddess. Frustrated, Angel searched each body, looking for identification. Will searched the dead lackeys.

None of them had identification. With mounting frustration, the two men returned to Los Angeles, their pride hurt and initiative dampened. Angel dropped Will off at the office in silence. Sitting in his car, he looked at the clock. It was nearing two in the morning. Sighing heavily, Angel put his head in his hands for a long time. Not wanting to go home yet, he turned the car towards a familiar part of town.

Cordelia answered the door after his second set of knocks. She looked bedraggled; her eyes were red and puffy. Wearing nothing but a bathrobe over a sports bra and boxer shorts, she frowned deeply at him across the threshold of her apartment.

"You don't need permission to enter anymore, you know."

"Thanks for the reminder." He stepped into and through the living room, going straight to the kitchen.

Making coffee haphazardly, he was finally pushed out of the way by Cordelia and ordered into the bathroom to clean himself up. He hadn't realized he had blood on him until that moment. Sighing heavily, he went to the bathroom and peeled his damp shirt from his body. Blood had soaked through to his undershirt, leaving large bright red blotches. As he peeled that off as well, he winced. Looking at his shoulder in the mirror, he made a disgusted face. Someone had cut him rather deeply and he hadn't noticed.

Answering the knock at the bathroom door, he saw Cordy holding a pair of boxer shorts and a t-shirt. "I'll put your stuff in the wash." She pointed to blood splatters on his pants and shoes and made a motion with her hands that meant he should hand them over immediately. Frowning, he closed the door and stripped, putting on the offered underwear. He allowed her to dress his shoulder wound before putting on the t-shirt.

He sat down heavily on the couch and accepted the coffee that was thrust into his hands. Cordy sighed and curled up on the loveseat opposite Angel. She was frowning until she realized they were wearing matching boxers. Her giggles grew to full out laughter and soon she was joined by Angel, who had realized what had excited her so.

Drying her eyes, Cordy looked up her Angel. "Want to talk?"

"They were already dead."

"I know. I saw that." Sipping her own coffee, she pushed her dark bangs from her face. "And did I mention that I work day shift? This won't fly anymore sweet cheeks."

Angel smiled sadly at her use of Lorne's pet name for him. For a short moment, Angel missed his family the way it used to be. Pushing away the pain that came with that reminiscing, he concentrated on the woman in front of him.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because, Angel, I knew you would come here. I didn't need a vision to see that. I knew you would go off half cocked and wind up sore and disappointed. And afterwards you would come to me for patching and comfort. Old habits die hard."

"What do you know, Cordy?"

"What am I, a palm reader? I told you, I can only tell you what I am allowed to tell you. Connor has a special purpose. He has to fulfill his destiny. And he would have a lot sooner if you hadn't messed with the fabric of reality and rewritten history. You won't like the answers I have for you Angel."

Staring at her intently, he tried to deny what she was trying to tell him. Knowing that he should stop asking questions, he continued to do so anyway. "Who are the leaders of that group?"

She sighed heavily and ran her hand over her hair. Her face softened a little as she looked at her best friend. She loved him too much to hurt him, but he seemed determined to push her to do so. "They don't have a leader. They don't even exist. Angel, there is no great conspiracy. Connor has a destiny. He is being forced to accept it. He couldn't do it if he was happy and living in a la-la land you created for him. He has to own his past, be proud of it and use it. Why do you think he was born?

This side was down a few players. We were going to loose. Angel, they couldn't wait to groom a new warrior. So, they took the opportunity when you did the nasty with Darla and they created a super warrior. And they sent him to a hell dimension where time moved very differently. In a year, Angel, they had almost a fully grown warrior ready and willing to kill any demon he saw.

Do you understand now? The Powers used every opportunity they could to force Connor to be a warrior. They sparked the seed that created him; they used Wesley's paranoia to their advantage. There is always a Plan B and they used theirs expertly. They had to undo what you had done. You neutered their next great champion, Angel."

He sat speechless, staring into the big brown eyes of the woman who owned part of his heart. The woman who had gone to a higher dimension and came back changed, evil even. The woman who had died after giving him the greatest gift she could give. This was not the woman he had entertained ideas of loving. She was different, more accepting of the grey areas than she had ever been before. He was stunned into speechlessness, not by the facts he was hearing, but by the callous tone in which they had been spoken.

Swallowing hard, he set his coffee on the table. Putting his forearms on his knees and his head in his hands, he tried to reconcile the woman in front of him with the woman he had known. He was finding it impossible.

She was on her knees before him, her hands on his shoulders, before he could register that she had moved. "I'm sorry Angel. I'm just…I'm just tired. I can't tell you even a tenth of what I want to tell you. You just have to trust that it will work out. I swear to you it will. Connor will be okay and so will you. You'll move on. Angel, he was never meant to be like everyone else. He's special. Please, Angel, don't deny what you already know is true."

His head snapped up and his eyes burned into her. "I know that my son is devastated. I know that I have held him while he sobbed twice in as many days. I know that he has lost everyone he cares for. Is that the truth, Cordy? He should live like me? Miserable?"

She straightened. "You are not miserable. You are more blessed than you know. And Angel, they weren't real. Not to him. All the times you were denied when he was a child, you'll get to have now. Don't you see? You two are actually going to be able to have a relationship that doesn't involve trying to kill each other!"

"At what cost?" His voice was rising. "Four innocent people died! They were real people! I didn't create them, they had lives and friends and dreams. They were real!"

Standing, he pulled away from her to pace the length of the room. "So, what, we can bond over the fact that we're both chosen warriors to fight against evil? Great. What about a life, Cordy? Will he have to be as alone as I was for as long as I was? I don't want him to have to go through what I went through. I want better for him."

She stood slowly, wrapping her robe tightly around herself. "I was there too you know. Do you think it's easy for me? To remember the infant I bathed and changed and look at the man he is today? I loved him like he was my own. You know that. This isn't fun for me, Angel. I don't want to see him in anguish; I don't want to see you that way either! I love you both! If I tell you everything I want to tell you, Angel, I'll be killed. They shouldn't have even sent me back here! They should have sent me to another dimension where I couldn't get to you."

Taking a deep breath, he crossed his arms and stopped pacing. "Don't tell me anything Cordy. And especially don't tell me that you're okay with all this. Finally a little truth. It's nice to know you're still human under that hair. If you remember him, if you love him, why aren't you there for him? You know how much he loved you."

"Yeah, enough to sleep with me." Slapping her hand over her mouth her eyes widened as she watched the color drain from Angels' face. "I'm sorry, Angel. I'm sorry. I…I can't talk to him. He remembers the evil woman who ordered him to kill someone. He remembers the woman that spawned a hell god with him. I can't talk to him."

Angel wanted to go to sleep for a few months. This night was turning into more than he could handle. "Cordy…please never bring that up again, alright? He loves you. You are the closest thing he has to a mom. And yes, you two…whatever. But, he didn't understand love or…that. He got them confused. He thought he was showing you love, okay? Forget about all that and just go see him."

"How can I talk to any of them? They don't know me anymore. They don't remember me the way they should…or the way I'd like them to. I just…I want a new life. I want to be away from all that."

He scoffed at her. "You talk about Connor owning his destiny? You're a seer, Cordy. You will always be a seer. There was a time when you would have died for that."

She stopped dead in her tracks. It was a moment before she could move or speak. Finally, her voice came in a whisper. "You can take the couch. Your clothes should be dry in the morning."

He wanted to go to her. He wanted to apologize and forget they fought. He wanted to watch old cheesy movies and listen to her giggle. He wanted a simpler time in his life again. His life now was anything but simple.

Lying on the couch, he pulled a coverlet over himself and stared at the ceiling. If he could fall asleep, he would only be able to sleep for a few hours. He opted instead for staring at the ceiling in the dark living room, alone in the quiet with his thoughts and regrets.