Disclaimer: Never owned 'em, never will.
Chapter 3
The portal began to swirl with the blue and green colors that usually meant she was going to arrive somewhere near a body of water. As it started to solidify, Cordelia checked her current wardrobe: black leather pants, her good boots, and a simple white cotton blouse. It was an outfit that was comfortable, practical, and, most importantly, fashionable in most dimensions. "What's the sitch this time, Skip?"
"Oh, a champion got himself into a whole lot of trouble and is starting to think about doing something stupid. It's up to you to help him out."
Well, this one sounded promising, anyway. Strong, manly champion in need of a little tough love, no mention of entrails. Who knew what direction this could take? "Great. So let's get going already."
He held up a warning hand. "There's something you should know—"
She'd already endured countless lectures about personal responsibility and the fine art of not pissing off the natives that she was trying to help. Surely this world wouldn't be significantly different. "Time's wasting, Skip!" She stepped across the threshold. "I'll figure it out as I go along."
The air shimmered around her and she found herself standing on a cliff by the sea. Cordelia took an appreciative sniff of the salt air. A few meters away, back turned to her, a small, slim figure stood perilously close to the edge of the sharp drop into the ocean.
There was a small lurch beneath her feet as time started again. "Don't do it!" Cordelia called out. "I know things must look pretty rotten right now but—"
The young man jumped at the sound of her voice and whirled to face her, crouched defensively.
"Oh my God…" Her voice died in her throat and she just stood there, dumbstruck. The champion she'd been sent to help was Connor.
He straightened up slowly and lowered the ten-inch blade that had seemingly grown from his hand. "Cordelia." His voice was weary and resigned. "I've been waiting for you."
His hair was totally messed up and he looked hungry. Okay, maybe those were nothing new, but his clothes were ragged and filthy, and that definitely was. There was no way Angel would've let his kid run around looking like a bum. What the hell had been going on while she was gone?
"I—I've been away," she stammered. "There was so much that I had to do…" Her mouth was suddenly unbearably dry, and when she spoke again, her voice cracked. "I'm so, so sorry that I wasn't here when you needed me."
"It doesn't matter." He tossed the knife at her feet. "When you disappeared, I knew it was just a matter of time before you came back for me. I won't fight you. I just want it to be over."
Royally confused and afraid to hear the answers, Cordelia had to ask anyway, "What the hell are you talking about, Connor, and what do you want to be over?"
"Everything." His eyes were bleak. "I tried, but I can't live here any more." His voice hardened with anger. "Now do what you came here to do and kill me before I change my mind!"
She blinked away her tears and forced herself to answer calmly. "Connor, sweetheart, why on earth would I want to kill you?"
He shook a long shock of hair out of his eyes. "Isn't that what people are supposed to do when someone hurts a member of their family? Don't you want to kill me for what I did to Angel?"
"Angel? What's Angel got to do with this, and where is he? He would never let you…" she left the words unsaid. "Where is he, Connor?"
"You really don't know?"
"I really don't and I think you'd better tell me right now."
He shrugged and gestured vaguely toward the ocean. "Out there somewhere."
There was nothing on the water. No sails, no boats, just rolling waves as far as the eye could see. Her heart tightened painfully in her chest. "Oh, my God. You staked him and scattered his ashes at sea."
"No, no," Connor protested. "He's still alive, I guess. He's...under. Deep. Chained inside a box."
Her mouth dropped open with shock. "Connor, why would you want to do something like that?"
He refused to look at her. "I thought he killed my—." He stopped abruptly and started over. "I thought he killed Holtz."
"Angel would never—"
"I know that now!" His face was flushed with anger and his eyes rolled wildly. He took a deep breath and moderated his tone. "I know, but Justine told me Angelus killed him, and I believed her. I saw the body, and I knew what I had to do. At least, I thought I did."
His toe nudged a leather-bound journal that was lying half-buried in the sand at his feet. "She and I started hunting together, after. Vampires, mostly, but any other demon that got in our way. One was too fast for her. She told me about the book just before she died. It says that she was the one who killed Holtz." His face twisted with anger. "I wish she was still alive, so I could kill her myself."
So much pain, so much hatred, and so much loss in such a short life. How much of this could have been prevented if she'd stayed in L.A. instead of vacationing with Groo in Mexico? How different would things be now if she'd told Skip that nothing he could offer her could transcend her love for Angel? And how much more time was she going to waste on what ifs while Angel starved? They could play the blame game later, but there was work to be done now, and quickly.
"How long has he been down there, Connor?"
"Since the night you were supposed to meet him on the beach."
Okay, that was less than helpful. She worked when she could, rested when she had to, and not once while she was away had she ever seen a clock or a calendar that looked even remotely like Earth's. "Time worked differently where I was. Has it been a few days, or a few weeks?"
"I don't know exactly." He picked up the journal and handed it to her. "She dated her entries."
Cordelia grabbed the book. Sand flew from the pages as she quickly leafed through it for the final entry. She swallowed convulsively as she read the date. Oh, dear God. He'd been in the box for two and a half months, maybe even more. "How long ago did she die, Connor?"
"I know that one. Eight days ago."
Closer to three months, then. And Angel was still down in the dark, cold and hungry, and so very, very alone. And the Powers That Be had her rescuing Smurfs just because they were on the verge of developing Duracells.
"Skip!" She was way beyond pissed now, and he must have known just how much because he didn't show. "Damn it, Skip, you'd better get your scaly hide back here and start explaining, because this is total bullshit!" He stayed hidden. Screw him, then. This was one world where she could get around perfectly well without a demon guide, thank you very much.
That left her with Connor. She kicked his knife over the drop-off and clamped down hard on the urge to kick its owner over along with it. The kid had apparently inherited Darla's flair for the melodramatic, because, with his toughness and reflexes, she was pretty sure the fall alone wouldn't have done him in. Before she could be tempted to test the theory, she grabbed his collar firmly and said, "We are going to find him, and when we do, you are going to get down on your knees and beg for his forgiveness."
"Whatever." He drooped sulkily.
Well, it was nice to know that something things never changed. "Are Gunn and Fred still at the hotel?"
"Last time I checked, but it's been a while."
They were going to need all the resources that Angel Investigations could muster. "Well, we need to go back there now. Have you got a car?"
He nodded. "It was hers, but she taught me how to drive it."
After he led her back to the nondescript sedan, she rode shotgun so that she could read the journal on the trip. She could almost feel sorry for Justine when she found the entry that had sent Connor into a tailspin. It was just as he'd said. Holtz had begged for his death and she'd given it to him and then spent the next two pages pouring out her guilt.
The very next entry was an account of how Connor and Justine had cornered Angel at Point Dume. Cordelia kept her outward emotions firmly in check as she read with increasing horror about how they'd used metal cables to tie him down and then welded the lid onto the box before dumping it into the water.
By the time they got to the city, night had fallen and the city was bathed in bright, artificial light. She reveled in all the familiar sights and sounds of L.A. until they finally pulled up in front of the hotel. Three months, and it barely felt like two weeks to her. What would Fred and Gunn have to say? Well, only one way to find out. Steeling herself, she told Connor to stay in the car before she took a deep breath and pushed the door open.
"You guys miss me?"
Fred looked up so abruptly from the reception desk that her glasses slid down to perch precariously on the end of her nose. "Cordelia!"
Gunn's head and shoulders emerged from behind the desk as he lifted a cardboard box and plunked it on top of the counter. He had a big smile, but it looked kind of forced and wrong on his face. "You look thirsty. Join us in a drink?" Fred quickly turned to grab a bottle of water from the minifridge in the office.
"Uh, yeah, I guess." They were acting totally weird, but she really was thirsty, so Cordelia twisted off the lid and took a long pull before recapping it and setting it back on the counter again. Fred jumped up and down, clapped her hands, and squealed with joy, and she and Gunn exchanged significant looks. Suddenly, everything clicked.
"Oh, my God. This is holy water, isn't it? What do you guys take me for? A vampire? Hello! Check out the tan." She extended her arms and pirouetted.
"Not anymore." Gunn came out from behind the desk, spread his arms open and grinned. "Now what do you say you come on over here and give me a hug, girl?"
He was warm and solid in her arms. A moment later, she felt Fred's arms around her too and they all clung to each other in a big, happy group hug for the next few minutes. Cordelia hadn't realized just how much she missed everyday human contact. When she finally let them go, she punched each of them on the shoulder as hard as she could. "And that's for thinking I was evil!"
"Well," Gunn said defensively, "it's been a while since we saw any of you. Angel was heading out to meet you and the man definitely had a happy on."
"He was whistling," Fred added. "Can you blame us for being worried?"
"Angel whistled?" she blurted out in surprise. "Isn't that the fifth sign of the apocalypse or something?" Boy, things had gotten weird all right there at the end. But if he was excited about their planned meeting, that had to be a good thing, right? As she started to think about how the scenario might have played out, Gunn abruptly derailed her train of thought.
"So then you two had the big rendezvous at the beach and then neither of you comes in the next day, or the day after that, or the day after that. Connor and the Groosalugg disappear too. We've been beating the bushes for months, looking for you. Fred even called Wesley, but the only thing he was interested in looking for was the bottom of a bottle."
Cordy was disappointed, but not really surprised by Wes's refusal to help. Rescuing Angel would probably have gone a long way toward patching up things between all of them, but there was no happy group reunion in the foreseeable future.
"We found your cars," Gunn continued, "got a couple of leads on Connor, but he moved around too much and we were never able to catch—"
"Consider him caught," she interrupted. "He's waiting outside."
They instantly started bombarding her with questions and didn't let up until she wrapped herself in her blue aura and teleported over to her old desk. She looked up just in time to see their jaws drop and decided to take advantage of the reprieve. "Look, you've got questions, I've got answers, but what we don't have is a lot of time. Angel's in big trouble, and it's going to take more than just the three of us to help him."
Cordelia grabbed her Rolodex and carried it over to the phone. She flipped through it hurriedly, found the card she needed, and sent a quick plea to whichever deities might be listening that the private number was still good. It was, and after a seemingly endless number of rings, she was connected to a very grumpy-sounding David Nabbitt.
"David, it's Cordelia Chase. It's so good to hear your voice again," she gushed. "Angel Investigations is in a jam and we really need your help." She knew she was laying it on pretty thick, but, much to her relief, he brightened up immediately.
"Hey, wow, I guess you guys are working on something really important, huh? Well, I'm in Paris now, but I could probably charter a flight back in a couple of hours."
"Well, I'm not sure we'll be needing you in person. I saw an article last year about your investment in an undersea salvage operation. Do you still have that boat you were using to dig up those old shipwrecks?"
"Yes, I still have it," he answered, "and it's yours if you need it. What are you hoping to find? Is it some kind of dangerous artifact, or maybe a mystical sunken treasure?"
Sunken treasure? She didn't want to tell him too much, but she wasn't comfortable with lying to him either. "Well, I don't know if 'treasure' is the right word, but what we're looking for is extremely valuable to me."
"Then that's good enough, I guess. I'll have my people call you in the morning, okay?"
She wanted to argue that time was of the essence, but she knew that they still needed to make other preparations for Angel's triumphant homecoming (and she refused to believe that it would be anything but). "That sounds great. And David? Thanks."
"No problem," he said with genuine warmth. "That's what friends are for."
She hung up the phone guiltily. David was right. Friends were there to support each other and to help when they were needed. She'd known that she was needed here, but she left anyway, and now she'd be dealing with the fallout for a very, very long time. Before her thoughts could descend into a full-blown pity party, she grabbed for the nearest box of Kleenex and dabbed at her eyes. She was here now, and she was going to fix things as well as she could in whatever time she had left before the Powers whisked her off again.
The first order of business was taken care of. The second was finding a place for Connor to stay. The last thing that he needed was to see first-hand the results of what he'd done to his father. And the last thing Angel needed when he got back was seeing his betrayer's face looking at him from the other side of the breakfast table.
Gunn approached her cautiously. "You know, I love a pleasure cruise as much as the next guy, but how is that going to help us find Angel?"
"I'll explain later. Do I still have an apartment?"
"Well, technically, no," he explained. "We paid the rent for you for the first month you were gone, but things have been tight. Your landlord tried to go in and pack your stuff, but Phantom Dennis apparently persuaded him to leave it alone. Then the guy tried to hire us to perform an exorcism, but we couldn't do that to Dennis, even though we don't get very many paying gigs."
"Well, Dennis and I appreciate it," she smiled. "And Connor will too. We need to get him over there and get him situated."
"Cordelia, what—"
"No questions now, Fred." Cordelia hated the sharpness in her voice, but there was still so much work to do, and she was afraid they'd refuse to help if they knew what Connor had done. "And don't ask Connor, either. I'll tell you two everything later, I promise."
Cordelia still had a wad of cash left over from her Mexican vacation with Groo. She'd been saving it to give back to Angel when the time was right. Three hours later, the money was gone, but Connor was living in a freshly cleaned apartment with a fully stocked refrigerator and a stack of videos to tide him over until the cable was turned back on. The other utilities were included in the price of the rent, which was now paid up.
Dennis had been thrilled at her return. He seemed a little dubious (and how weird was it that she was attributing emotions to a ghost) about Connor, but she was sure that he'd do his best to keep Connor home and safe. Dennis ruffled her hair playfully as she headed out the door with Gunn and Fred and she promised him that she'd visit again as soon as she could.
On their way back to the hotel, Cordelia finally started talking. She began by explaining her breakup with Groo and then the extent of her work for the Powers. They were just pulling up in front of the Hyperion again when she finally told the other two about where Angel was, and why. It was all she could do to talk Gunn and Fred out of going back to the apartment to have a friendly "chat" with Connor about respecting his elders, but they eventually relented, deciding that Angel should deal with Connor in his own way.
When they got back inside, Cordelia started some coffee brewing. It felt good to be doing something so simple and mundane again, and she promised herself that if she ever got her normal life back she'd spend a lot more time appreciating the ordinary. The three of them sat down around the big table in the kitchen and started making plans for the next day.
"I say we open the box, pump him full of thorazine, and slap the lid back on," Gunn said.
"I don't want to do that. It's hard to know how he's going to react." Gunn hadn't seen Angel stoned off his gourd on mind-altering substances, but she had, and it wasn't pretty. "Some drugs make him go all grrrr until they wear off and we definitely don't want to deal with that."
Fred, still as skinny as ever, finished the slice of cheesecake that she'd had as a midnight snack and pushed her plate aside. "I understand about using the ship's instruments to look for his crate, but how do we even know where to begin?"
Cordelia showed them Justine's journal. "There are some coordinates in here, so that will be our starting point. Even if these are right, though, it could take a few days. We'd better plan for everything: rope, restraints, taser, everything short of a crossbow. Fred, I need you to get some medical supplies together: bandages, ointment, whatever you can think of. We'll need lots of blood too, the freshest we can get."
They spent the next hour finishing off the coffee, gathering all the supplies that they could lay hands on, and planning for buying the remainder first thing in the morning. Once they had done all they could, they said their goodnights and headed wearily for bed. Cordelia had always had a room at the hotel, although she rarely used it for much more than showering and changing whenever necessary, but she found herself heading for Angel's room instead.
She hadn't spent much time here since the fire, and some part of her still expected the sight of the crib and the lingering scent of baby powder. Instead, she found half-filled cardboard cartons scattered haphazardly throughout the room. Apparently, the files downstairs weren't the only things that Fred and Gunn were boxing up. Angel didn't have much, only the spartan belongings that he'd always had before being a father had complicated his life even more than was the usual case. Cordelia still remembered the sense of loss and defeat that she'd felt when they had packed up Connor's baby's things; there was no way in hell that she was going to leave Angel's stuff in the boxes when he could be coming back as early as tomorrow. She was tired, grubby, and sorely in need of some quality time with Miss Clairol, but she lifted one of the cartons and carefully started putting Angel's things back in place. She was going to find him, and God help anyone or anything that got in her way.
End of Chapter 3