Disclaimer: Not my universe, characters, or property.
Thanks for the reviews! I won't be able to post over the weekend, so look for the next chapter on Monday.
Chapter 4
He felt a sensation of movement, a slow, spiraling ascent that ended with a curious bobbing motion. A cool rush of moist evening air bathed him and hands reached in for him. He closed his eyes tightly against the bright lights surrounding him as he allowed himself to be pulled upright. There was a wave of dizziness before a pair of strong arms threw themselves around him and he found his face buried in the crook of his rescuers neck. Without any conscious thought at all, he felt his face change as he bit down hard. Dimly, he heard voices rise in alarm and felt hands grab his arms, but the throat beneath his teeth vibrated softly. "No, don't, it's all right. Let him be. He needs it."
Need? That was hardly a strong enough term to apply to the agony that raced through his body. The questing hands went away and he dedicated himself to the task of soothing his burning throat by swallowing the warm, salty-sweet blood that bathed his tongue. It wasn't entirely human, but it was very close, and, in any case, he wasn't in any shape to discriminate. Its perfume found its way into his nose, heady and rich and intoxicating and he growled softly as he sucked harder. Surprisingly, the dreadful hunger began to subside in just a few seconds.
"That's enough." The voice startled him out of his reverie, and he let his features shift back to his human face as he raised his head to lick at bloody lips. When he saw the ragged, ugly wound on the side of Cordelia's neck, his mouth opened in a grimace of horror and he fell to his knees. A cramp bent him over double and he began to retch miserably.
She immediately sat beside him and cradled his head in her lap. "Easy does it, big guy," she murmured softly, "I can't give you any more of the good stuff. If you lose it, you're gonna be stuck with cold pig's blood." A soft blue glow surrounded her. Its warmth trickled into his midsection and the nausea subsided just as the glow flickered fitfully and then died out altogether.
"Should have stopped it," he gasped painfully. "You shouldn't have let me—"
"What, lie here on the bottom of the ocean for like, three months?" she interrupted. "You're right. I should never have let it happen. And rest assured, I'm going to have a little talk with the Powers that Be. As a matter of fact, I've got a whole list of grievances to air, starting with the lack of any kind of pension plan."
There was more, but the words were drowned out by the sound of the motor as the fat little boat turned and made for shore. He fixed his gaze on her lips in order to avoid looking at her neck and, before they had gone even a mile, his consciousness fled in a wake of guilt and despair.
He woke to find himself lying atop his old bed in the Hyperion. As he lifted his head from the pillow to get his bearings, a familiar face appeared above his and brown eyes full of anger, pity, and more than a little fear met his own.
Gunn straightened up again before calling across the room, "He's awake, Cordelia."
She padded in from the bathroom and Angel closed his eyes and gritted his teeth when he saw the bloodstained collar of her shirt. Her hair covered her neck; there was no visible mark, but he knew it was there all the same. He forced himself to open his eyes and to look at her again, desperately searching her face for—what? Forgiveness, anger, sympathy? But her expression revealed nothing that he could interpret.
"Gunn," Cordelia began awkwardly, "I think—"
"It's cool," he interrupted. "You two got things that need straightening out." He reached into his pocket and produced a taser. Angel flinched at the sight of it, but neither of them seemed to notice.
"I won't need that," Cordelia insisted.
"Maybe you will and maybe you won't." Gunn grabbed her hand and pressed the gadget into it. "I don't know what kind of mojo the Powers gave you to work with, but if he tries to pull another stunt like he did earlier, this baby will knock his lights out pronto." He took another look at Angel and shook his head sadly. "If it don't kill him first, that is." He was almost out the door when he stopped and turned back one last time and said, "Fred and I are gonna hang out in the lobby for a while. You need anything, you call us, right?"
"Right," Cordelia answered softly as the door closed behind him.
She walked slowly toward the bed and sat on the edge closest to Angel before deliberately placing the taser on the nightstand, well within his reach. Her free hand reached to ruffle his hair gently and her eyes filled with tears as she said simply, "Hey."
"Hey." He blinked furiously to keep back his own tears.
"Oh, I didn't think. It's too bright in here, isn't it?"
She tried to stand, but he caught her hand and held it fast between his own. How many times now had a dream-Cordelia appeared before him, whole and healthy, only to disappear or perish moments later? He wanted to fill his senses with her, to drink her in before she vanished, but he suddenly caught the scent of her spilled blood. He released her guiltily and dropped his arms back to the bed.
"It's okay, Angel. I'll be right back." She turned out the overhead light and lit the few candles he had scattered around the room. She disappeared into the bathroom and he had a fleeting moment of panic until he spotted more flickering lights and realized that she was lighting the candles in there as well. By the time she returned to the bed, she had composed herself again. "Better?"
She was back by his side and that made it all kinds of better, but he still had a hard time believing any of it. "Tell me this is real. Tell me it's not just another hallucination."
She reached for his hand and caressed the back of it with her thumb before lifting his hand to her face and placing a gentle kiss in the center of his palm. He pressed his index finger lightly into her neck, just barely dimpling the skin, and felt the slow, steady beat of her pulse. He'd been fooled so many times before…
"It's really me, Angel. I promise." Cordelia turned her face into his palm so that his hand cupped her cheek. He could feel her warmth and smell her scent: fresh air, blood, salt, and warm, clean skin. He smelled himself on her as well and the effect was disconcerting. Her voice was low and rich and reassuring, and the candlelight brought out little streaks of red in her hair. It was longer now, and both darker and curlier than he remembered.
Hope clashed with fear in his mind. If this was Cordelia, and all his senses insisted that it was, what right could he possibly have to claim her as a friend, much less anything more, after what he had done to her?
"Stop that." Her eyes blazed furiously.
"What—" he began.
"You were about to start brooding."
He opened his mouth to deny the accusation, caught another warning glance from her, and then abruptly shut it again. This had to be the real Cordy. No one else could make him feel like such an idiot with a simple tilt of the head and a carefully raised eyebrow.
"Think you can stand?"
"Yeah." Angel swung his legs to the floor and levered his body up. He was still a little shaky, but he was able to get upright and stay that way.
"Good, because the first order of business is to clean you up. We drew straws to see who was going to get the job and I lost." Cordelia helped ease the jacket off of his shoulders and tossed it at an empty chair. Angel began plucking at the buttons on his shirt, but his fingers seemed to be next to useless.
"Let me help you." He didn't resist as she deftly unbuttoned his shirt and pulled it off of his shoulders. When she reached his sleeves, however, the material resisted being pulled away from his skin.
"What on earth?" She looked puzzled. "It's stuck to your skin. I guess we can soak it off," she said.
Soak, as in, submerge in water? No way. "The hell we will," Angel growled as he pulled his arms roughly away from the material that she still held gathered in her hands. There was an ugly ripping noise as the encrusted fabric tore free from his flesh.
She didn't say a word, but her eyes filled with tears again as she took in the dozens of overlapping bite marks covering both of his arms. The oldest ones weren't too bad, but a few of the newer punctures had been broken open again by the brutal treatment. They sullenly began to ooze thin streams of blood that wound their way down to his hands and dripped from his fingers to the carpet. He held his bloody hands in front of him and wiggled his fingers weakly. "I think there's been some nerve damage, but it should start to heal soon."
Unable to deal with the dawning horror on her face, he used the shredded shirt to wipe the blood from his arms and hands, noting as he did so that the holes were starting to knit shut already. His first meal had done him a world of good, but as he remembered where exactly it had come from, he clenched his fists uselessly, overcome by revulsion and self-loathing. He threw the shredded shirt to the floor and forced himself to lift his head and meet her eyes again, ready to face the look of pity and disgust that he knew he'd earned, but her gaze showed only sadness and guilt, although he couldn't imagine why.
She tried to pull him into her arms and his nostrils flared at the scent of her recently spilled blood. Saliva rushed into his mouth and he swallowed hurriedly.
"Don't." He stepped away from her. "I'm—I'm still hungry. Maybe you should go."
"Not a problem." She turned away for a moment, picked up the phone from his desk, and asked Fred to bring up some dinner.
As she put the phone back on the cradle, he approached her from behind and brushed her hair away from her neck. Cordelia stood motionless as he ran a fingertip gently over the horrible bruise and the ragged puncture marks. "I did this. I don't remember much that's real, but I know that I'm responsible."
"It's okay, Angel. It's nothing." She turned away and pulled her hair back over the wound. "I can't tell you how sorry I am about this."
No, it most definitely was not okay. It wasn't nothing, either, and he couldn't figure out why she was acting this way. "What gives, Cordelia? None of this was your fault, so why are you apologizing?"
She looked at him sadly. "You suffered, Angel. I can't even imagine just how much. I'm sorry that it took so long to find you."
"I'm just glad you're okay. I had wondered if they had done something to you, too." She nodded and he realized that she was likely aware of who had imprisoned him, but he wasn't ready to talk about that yet. "I knew you were looking, but I figured with the visions and everything, it wouldn't take that long to find me."
She sagged visibly. "That's just it, Angel. I wasn't looking for you. I didn't even know you were missing."
He searched his mind for some kind of explanation and failed miserably. What the hell had been going on in his absence? "On the boat—you said it was three months. How could you not know, Cordy?"
"On my way to Point Dume—to meet you that night—I got an offer I couldn't refuse. Skip came and offered me a job with the Powers That Be. But I didn't know that this—" she gestured at his scarred arms and diminished frame, "had happened. I was rescuing people and fighting the bad guys in other dimensions, while you were—"
"Starving? Hallucinating? Dying?" He was stunned. He'd been worried sick about her and she hadn't even known about his pain.
"Yeah, although luckily not so much of the last one. And they didn't even tell me, and oh my god, I am so pissed at them right now!" She paced around his room angrily, as though to prove her point. "I missed you so much while I was gone. All of you, even Wesley. They wouldn't let me have any kind of contact with anyone here. I kept telling myself that it was worth it, that I was finally doing what I had been destined for. After a while, I even started to believe it."
None of this made any sense. "If the Powers wanted to separate us, then why did they send you back here to find me?"
"They didn't." She bit her lip nervously. "They sent me for Connor."
Angel's fists tightened reflexively on hearing his son's name. "Connor's in danger?"
"No, not anymore. Dennis is watching him. Connor helped us find you, but I thought it would be better if he didn't see you right away."
He hated to admit it, but she was probably right. He had no idea what he would've done if Connor was the first person he'd seen on getting out of the box. "He's got some explaining to do."
"He already explained," Cordelia said. "To me, anyway. And he's even sorrier than you can imagine."
Angel's gaze landed on the taser on the nightstand. "Not as sorry as he's gonna be."
"He was suicidal when I found him, Angel. It's not his fault. Justine and Holtz used him."
That bit of news was familiar, at least. "Yeah, I know. He accused me of killing Holtz before he and Justine locked me in the box."
"Payback's a bitch, and then some." She smiled tiredly. "Justine killed Holtz herself and framed you for it, and a demon got Justine a little over a week ago. Connor didn't learn what really happened until after she died."
Angel struggled valiantly to take in all the information and sort out his feelings. There was no excuse for what Connor had done, but Angel was still alive, after a fashion, and he had himself committed patricide. His feelings for Cordelia were still tougher to sort out, so he studiously turned his mind back to his son. "I still love Connor. I told him that just before they threw me in the water, you know. But I don't want to see him again any time soon. You did what you came for, so it might not be the worst idea for you to leave too."
She made no move to go. "Is that what you really want, Angel?"
His pent-up anger surged and he turned away from her to strike the wall savagely with a closed fist, leaving a smear of blood behind. "Why should what I want matter? The Powers are going to do whatever THEY want, and to hell with anyone who gets in their way." He looked pointedly at the bruise on her neck. "I know exactly what this is now. You feel bad about leaving, so this is how you paid your penance." She didn't bother to deny it. "How can you even think about staying here after I battened off of you like some kind of mindless leech? Part of me wants to do it again, and, this time, I might not be able to stop."
"My powers—" she started.
"Are not enough!" he shouted. He saw her flinch at his tone of voice and continued in a softer vein, "I saw how weak you were afterward. You made a promise to me once, Cordelia, and I expected you to keep it."
Predictably, she was defiant. "I promised to kill Angelus, not Angel, especially not a helpless, starving, pathetic—"
He reached her in two quick strides and grabbed her forearms, pushing her back and away from him until she was pinned against the wall by the weight of his body. He put on his game face and let her take in his golden eyes and wickedly pointed canines for a moment. "I am dangerous, Cordelia, and the day you forget that could be the day you die."
Her eyes were wide with astonishment, but still totally devoid of fear. The candlelight flickered in her pupils, and, like the proverbial moth, he was drawn closer by the sight, then closer still until their faces were almost touching. He was acutely aware of the full, soft weight of her breasts against his chest, of the pressure of his pelvis against her belly. He was hard instantly. She was so warm, and he'd been cold for too long. He wondered briefly if her fire would consume him, and decided he didn't care.
"I know you're not Angelus," she said firmly. "And I know you would never do anything to hurt me."
He couldn't trust himself, but she refused to stop believing in him. Shaken by her confidence, Angel let his human features come back as he buried his face in her shoulder and hugged her tightly. He felt the ragged puncture wounds in her neck, wounds that he had put there, and kissed them softly, begging for the forgiveness that she had already offered but that he was too afraid to accept. Maybe finally kissing her would make it all better, just make all the pain and the bad memories disappear. Her neck arched ever so slightly to give him better access. He brushed his lips against the bite a little more firmly, trying to soothe away the sting and he heard her increased heartbeat and felt its vibrations beneath her skin. A tiny moan escaped her and he dragged his mouth upward and along the line of her jaw and then—
"Room Service!" The call was accompanied by a gentle tap on the hall door. The moment broken, Angel quickly retreated to the safety of the bathroom and left Cordelia to deal with Fred's arrival.
End of Chapter 4