Author's Note: Greetings, All! Well, after two years, I am happy to report that, yes, I am still in the world of the living, and yes, I am still committed to finishing this story even if it kills me. You know, part of the problem that's been keeping me from finishing this fic is largely, life interruptions. In '03, there was my mom's hospitalization, then the homeless thing, then in '04, it was grueling work schedules, then in '05, I had this bout of depression, and last year I was simply too busy with career stuff to entertain anything else.
But now, the time has come for me to do something I probably should've done from the start.
I am officially looking for a BETA-reader.
Any kinds will do. Grammar, content, character critique, continuity…just remember, I'm open to suggestions, and I can take criticism quite well, but please don't be too pushy. Not a big fan of that. I'd kinda prefer that anyone interested has actually published a fic here (completed or otherwise), but, then again, if you think you're an expert on a particular character or 'ship, then by all means, write me.
If you're interested, or just feeling brave, e-mail me at hotmail. com - guardianshaven is my email addess
NOW…the moment 2 years in the making, the latest chapter of…
Bring Me To Life
Part 12
The Dealing Devil
"Yeah, I understand you're upset, Dev", Oz talked into his cell phone as he was speeding down the empty interstate highway.
"No, no, I'm not ditching on you guys", he explained. "Well, okay, I sort of am, but I'm not, you see? No, look…something just came up…there are some things more important than the band, Devon…like personal stuff, okay? Look…okay, I'm sorry I didn't call…No, I don't know when I'll get back…I'll try to make it back by next week, but…Yes, I get that the record exec's gonna be upset…Dude, just relax, okay?…Okay, okay, Dev, you're breaking up, yeah, signal's getting pretty bad…might have to-"
And with that, Oz shut his cell phone closed.
"So, how'd he take it?", Whistler non-chalantly asked.
"Well, considering that this could be the break of a lifetime for him next week, and the band's missing their lead guitar, I'd say he's got a fairly good reason to want to take a fountain pen to my chest and do his best Joe Pesci in 'Goodfellas' impersonation", Oz calmly replied.
"Ooh, sorry 'bout that, kid", Whistler winced.
The young werewolf sighed. "He'll get over it."
The half-demon ventured, "Unless you want to turn back around-"
"No", Oz's mellow voice suddenly sharpened, his eyes steeling themselves in a flash. "It's L.A. or bust, if it's Willow that needs help."
"Good attitude to have, kid", Whistler nodded approvingly.
"'Specially since we're not about to turn around for nothin' or nobody", Lindsey said from the back, cocking the barrel of one of his shotguns. "Which hopefully, means there'll be no more little hitchhiking stops on the way. Right?" His eyes leveled a calm, yet deadly serious stare at Whistler.
"First and last, Mac D", Whistler said, holding up his right hand in an unusual shape of a Boy Scout salute. "Scout's honor. Like Teen Wolf over here said, it's L.A. or bust."
Lindsay grimaced in annoyance. "Okay, let's get a few things straight, Munchkin Man", he icily replied. "First off, don't ever call me that again. I'm not a giant red-haired clown with big red shoes. Second, you got the hand signal all wrong, dumbass. I should know, seeing as I was once a Scout myself. And third, we've been traveling for about three hours now, and you still haven't told us jack-squat about what exactly we're going up against here. Except for the part where the most powerful evil force known to mankind is to blame, the vampire who made a mantle piece out of my right hand is in over his head, and somehow, Darla's involved. Now, are you gonna make with the debriefing, or am I going to have to squeeze you until those beady little eyes pop out of your tiny little skull?"
Whistler took a moment to regard him. "Gee, really feeling that warm, friendly hospitality all you Midwest folk are so world-famous for."
Lindsey looked as if he was about to lunge for the half-demon, when Oz swiftly intervened.
"Uh, why don't you start telling us what this is all about, Whistler? Before Lindsey makes like a bubble and bursts?"
Whistler sighed. "Okay, here's the deal…" He broke off for a minute, then chuckled as he turned back to Lindsey. "You were really a Boy Scout?"
"Whistler", Lindsey's voice strained out of his mouth.
"You've all heard about the wave of wickedness going down in La-La Land, right?"
Oz nodded. "Heard on the news. Rain of fire, sun disappearing…"
"Yeah, yeah, we've been over this", Lindsey snapped. "But what's the source? And what does Darla have to do with-"
"Hey, hold your hat, Tex, I'm getting' there", Whistler calmly responded. "Okay, so all this is going down, and, of course, our heroes at Angel Investigations answer the call. Trouble is, they're way in over their heads and get their asses whipped faster than a rookie club fighter on 'Fight Night' at MSG. Same time, we go a few miles up north to a sleepy little slice of suburban Americana known as 'The Hellmouth.'"
"Sunnydale", Oz instantly replied.
Whistler nodded. "Correct. Turns out that the Slayer, Miss Buffy Summers by name, and her pals are in a similar situation, only the main opponent is the one and only First Evil. Pretty much the ultimate end-all, be-all supervillain. The source."
" 'Source'? Source of what?", Oz asked.
"Evil", Lindsey replied. "I've got a copy of the files at Wolfram & Hart right here." He read aloud, "The First Evil, origin unknown. Appeared just before the dawn of time, claimed responsibility for the very foundation of the concept known as 'evil'. It's last known appearance was Sunnydale, circa Christmas Eve, 1998. Tormented Angel to the point of near-suicide. Motives unknown, seen as potentially valuable ally, but remains classified as Level 5 threat to operations."
"On a scale of…?", Whistler motioned for him to continue.
"Five", Lindsey replied, not turning his eyes away from the files.
"Threat?" Oz scrunched his eyebrows. "Now, wait, from what I've heard Angel say about Wolfram & Hart, you guys were pretty much in the business of evil. So, if this thing's the source of evil, then shouldn't you guys be, I dunno, teeing off at a golf course, or power-lunching or whatever?"
In spite of his impassive glances between his road partners and the files, Lindsey felt irked at Oz's association of Wolfram and Hart and himself. He hoped to have left that part of his past behind him for good when he sped off to Clarity two years ago. He hoped to have washed himself clean of that blood-soaked chapter of his life. Yet even now, when he was rushing off to fight an apocalypse, possibly to his own doom, he could still not shake the specter of the evil law firm from his life.
"That was ideally the case", Lindsey answered. "But from the firm's initial dealings with it, over three millennia ago, the First was…uncooperative."
"Exactly how uncooperative are we talking here?", Oz asked.
Lindsey thumbed through the pages of the file. "It sent the firm's first emissaries to it back, with their hearts in hand. Literally. The next few were sent back, strangled by their own entrails. The last one sent to negotiate actually came back alive, but with his eyes melted in his sockets, mumbling something about 'fading lights', 'walls closing' or 'balls of fire', or some drooling indecipherable rant."
"Hmm", Oz noted. "And I heard Donald Trump could play mean hardball."
"Of course, Wolfram & Hart aren't the type of people who take 'no' for an answer", Whistler smirked.
"Right. So, an all-out war erupted between both sides as a result of the First's actions, a war that lasted for over a thousand years", Lindsey continued. "But a costly stalemate forced the Senior Partners and emissaries of the First to work out a formal cease-fire and draw up a non-aggression agreement. This was about 2000 years ago, the signing actually coinciding with the birth of Christ. Since then, an uneasy truce has been held between both parties. Mostly, though, since a lot of the agreement managed to limit the First's actions on this plane, the Senior Partners have been able to turn the majority of their attentions to other dealings."
"So, the First was actually strong enough to force Wolfram & Hart into a stalemate situation", Oz reflected, impressed.
"The First Evil's resources are nearly endless", Lindsey explained. "Same with Wolfram & Hart. Matched up head-to-head, the power difference is very nominal. But the First's power has increased on its own in the last few centuries, though not nearly enough to attract the concern of the Senior Partners."
"What the files won't tell you", Whistler chimed in, "is that the Powers that Be have been monitoring the situation from a distance. Or that the First has, in secret, been constantly looking for a way to break the accord. Or that, through a carefully played-out chain of events stretching from the cosmos to the Higher Planes to Earth itself , not only did the First find a way to breach the agreement, but also a way how to increase its power beyond all of its expectations, or that of any of its foes, for that matter."
"Wait a second", Oz scratched his head, puzzled. "Why would the most powerful evil entity in the world have to look for a way to break an agreement? It's the First Evil. Couldn't it have just…I dunno, ripped up the contract or whatever?"
"When Wolfram & Hart works a contract, it's never a typical signing", Lindsey responded. "All sorts of legality clauses, fine print, ancient magicks, older than the birth of language, and a legion of very powerful demonic shamans were involved with this pact. It was literally a 'binding' agreement, both in the legal and mystical sense, between both parties. Neither side wanted to take the chance that the other would back out on their word. But the Senior Partners' main concern was making sure that the First's forces were held in check on this plane of reality. The consequences for either side backing out of the agreement, once signed, would be catastrophic."
"And the magick was powerful enough to force the First to find an alternate route of getting the power it needed to overrun Earth's plane", Whistler said. "And sure enough, it found one."
"But Wolfram & Hart have been paying up-to-the-minute detailed attention to the First's moves since the agreement", Lindsey argued. "There's no way that the First could've pulled something off on this plane without the Senior Partners having known of it."
If anyone would know about that, it would be Lindsey McDonald. Among his many talents, he was also one of the leading authorities, maybe the leading authority, on the Senior Partners themselves. Upon entry in Wolfram & Hart, Lindsey dedicated years of his life to studying anything & everything about the law firm. Few beings on this plane of reality had more knowledge of the firm, first-hand or otherwise, than he.
"Think about it, MacDonald", Whistler smirked knowingly. "Who said that the First's moves had to be just limited to this plane of reality?"
Oz realized what Whistler was implying. "I'm guessing that it took to shopping way out of town for its goods."
"Try outta this cosmos, Ozzy", Whistler said. "In order to get the drop on us, it had to go up top. Way up top. So high up that nobody, not even the Senior Partners could see it coming."
"The Higher Planes", Lindsey realized, eyes widening in realization. "That's where it went."
"Well, that's where it looked", Whistler corrected. "Remember, the First, for all of its power, can't just float into the Higher Planes like grease through a fat guy's arteries. Those planes are owned by the Powers That Be, who, let's face it, are way up on the food chain in terms of power. But what's to say that it couldn't send something up there to pinch-hit, so to speak? Something that would completely obey its bidding, yet something that was so seemingly insignificant that it would just slip past the Powers' radar?"
Oz's eyes lit up in understanding, quickly processing what Whistler had said. For all of his silence and laid-back approach to life, Oz's intellect was quite amazing, almost on par with even Willow's renowned brain power.
"That's why you're here", Oz said. "The First used someone...or something…to infiltrate the Higher Planes on its behalf, and that violated your bosses'…boundaries, your property lines, whatever, so the Powers want to strike back at it."
"Oh, there's a lot more at stake than that", Whistler replied. "If the First is allowed to get what it wants, the big guys won't be the only ones whose lawn gets stepped on. Every reality, every planet, hell, every single-celled speck of nothing may be up for grabs here. And as good as Angel and Buffy are, even combined, they may not be enough to stop it this time."
"So, how do we come in?", Lindsey asked. "Aside from waiting for a full moon, making annoying comments and legal advise from an ex-lawyer-turned-grocery-store-clerk, what makes you think we can make any amount of difference other than being first in line to take a fatal wound or two for the team?"
"Look, trust me", Whistler said. "Some of it is on a need-to-know basis, but trust me when I say this. You guys have your own parts to play in this drama. That's why the Powers sent me to get you, that's why we've got to make it to L.A. in one piece."
"How soon do we have to make it there?", Lindsey asked, his eyes still fixed on Whistler.
"As soon as possible", Whistler answered.
Lindsey wasn't satisfied with the answer. "Which is?"
Whistler took a look at his watch. "About another three hours."
At that, Oz shot him a wary glance. Lindsey, whose temper was on ends ever since their journey began, snapped.
"THREE HOURS?", he shouted, furious. "We're not even halfway down Oregon yet, and you expect us to make it there in three hours? What kind of stupid, idiotic-"
"Relax", Oz spoke up as he reached upwards and flipped several toggle switches just above him. He reached over on the car console, lifting away a small metallic tab, which revealed a thumb-sized red button.
"What are you doing?" Lindsey asked, suspiciously.
Oz gave him a brief look back. "Remember when I told you that I knew a guy who gave me this car?"
"Yeah?", the ex-lawyer replied.
"Well", Oz continued, turning his eyes back to the road. "Let's just say that he had some very deep connections in the U.S. military. This was a going-away present from him to me. A government military armored personnel carrier prototype. It combined simple civilian camouflage with steel-reinforced armor plating, state-of-the-art tracking and navigational systems, automated combat defense mechanisms…and something really cool."
Whistler raised an eyebrow. "No kidding."
Oz motioned to the button. "This button activates a high-speed velocity booster system. A new kind of speed system that the U.S. military's been experimenting with. Supposedly, it can make this van do its best 'Warp 5' imitation. We're talking sound barrier-breaking fast. It should be able to get us to L.A. in about two-thirds the time it would take other vehicles from this distance. "
"Have you tried it before?", Whistler asked.
"Haven't gotten around to it", Oz shrugged. "But there's a ninety-five percent chance of success rating to it, at least, that's what the guy told me."
"And the other five percent?", Lindsey asked, skeptically.
Oz looked at him, his voice deadpanned. "We blow up."
Well, isn't that special? Lindsey stared at him, his eyes staring in disbelief. "You know, I actually liked you up until this point."
Whistler, despite the situation, couldn't help but to laugh. "Come on, Mac", he looked at Lindsey. "Can't make an omelet without breaking a few eggs."
At that, Lindsey sighed, defeated. True, he wasn't thrilled of being a guinea pig in a crash test simulation. Especially when that test could end with his being blown into the next lifetime. But, he was in no position to look for other alternatives. They were six hours out from their destination, time was of the essence, and there were people who needed them.
Darla needed him.
And for her, he would move mountains…
Or, possibly, suffer fatal 3rd degree wounds.
The young man grumbled. "Yeah, well…at least if we blow up, I'll die with the knowledge that Whistler went first."
"Stop it, McDonald, you're making me blush", Whistler quipped, an amused expression on his face.
Oz sighed, glancing up at his good luck charm. Hanging up by the rear view mirror, dangling by a string, was a Pez Scooby Doo dispenser. He briefly allowed himself a smile as he thought of the amazing young woman who gave him that trinket. At the very least, if that five percent did kick in, the last thing in his thoughts would be his Willow, her green eyes sparkling with warmth at him.
"Guys", he said, as his finger hovered over the red button. "If you haven't buckled your seat belts, or said your Hail Mary's, I suggest you do it now. Things are about to get pretty…trippy."
As Lindsey held his breath and Whistler mumbled a few silent Rosary's to himself, Oz had only one last thought before his hand descended on the red button.
Oh, the things we do for love.
About 20 minutes earlier…
Dawn was yet again mentally smacking herself for her speaking gaffe.
'Exciting, isn't it?' Oh, yeah, real smooth, Dawn. Very not retardedshe inwardly groanedBut then again, it's not exactly like Connor's being all Joe-here's-what-I'm-thinking.
She gazed back and forth between the sight of Cordelia, popping in and out of the rooms, and Connor, who keenly watched her every move. At the moment, the only thing on Connor's mind, from Dawn's perspective, was Cordelia. Not like that was such a bad thing, considering that they were there to save her, and, well, to kick her ass. Or, at least, kick her evil, hatchet-crazy, sluttish-dressing, world-conquering doppelganger's ass.
But, come on, would it kill him to say at least one sentence to her? Two words? A syllable? A grunt?
Anything?
Grumbling to herself, Dawn reached in her pocket for an Oreo cookie, wrapped in the boxed 6-piece package. She couldn't help herself. She was a junk food fiend. Buffy was always on her case about eating healthy and what-not, but come on, who could really resist the mouth-watering, crunchy cookie goodness that was the Oreo cookie?
As if on cue, a light bulb went up in her brain.
"Cookie?", she whispered to Connor, as she offered her half of her own Oreo. Staring at her for a moment, perhaps in fascination, perhaps in annoyance, Connor shrugged, taking the cookie half.
"Mmm. Good", he nodded, as he took a bite-full of his half. "You like these, too?"
"Well, duh", Dawn grinned. "Two halves of chocolaty crunchy cookies melded by a center of creamy white stuff? Who could resist?"
"These were one of the first things I ate in this dimension", Connor mused, thinking back to those confusing first days in L.A. Some parts were good, but overall, it was an experience he preferred to forget. However, there was one experience that, thinking back on it, made him chuckle. "I…remember that the first time I ate an Oreo was from this…vending machine."
"Uh-huh", Dawn nodded, but not quite understanding what Connor found so amusing about something so routine.
"But", he chuckled some more, "It was the first time I ever saw one of those, right? I mean, up until I came here, all the food I ever had, I've had to catch and kill, not take out of a container. So, I just thought by pressing the buttons that I'd just get the food out. So I pressed the button. Nothing happened. I kept pressing some more buttons, and I kept pressing and pressing, but nothing happened. So, finally, I get so mad that I just…pick up the stupid thing right off the hinges and just trash the thing."
Dawn's eyes widened, and she almost laughed incredulously. "You didn't…"
"Oh, I did", Connor smiled. "And then, I'm all proud of what I did, so I come inside with all the junk food I could possibly carry and I come inside with a big, stupid smile on my face, and I'm all, "Look, dad, I found food inside a big metal box!'"
Dawn had to muffle her giggle; it was all she could do from laughing hysterically. "Oh, my God", she breathed. "Oh…oh, that's classic! Angel must've looked at you like you had two heads."
In an instant, the smile faded from his face, replaced by a slightly more bitter expression.
Dawn could tell immediately that she struck a nerve. "Um, Connor, are you alri-"
"My fa…Angel wasn't there when it happened", he said. "The man who raised me was. The only other man I call 'father'."
Dawn hesitated. "What was his name?"
Connor closed his eyes, swallowing hard before he spoke. "His name was Holtz."
Simply uttering the name brought back conflicting feelings. Love. Resentment. Loyalty. Anger.
"Holtz", she repeated softly. "Was…was he the one who…?"
"Took me to Quor'toth?", Connor finished for her. "Yeah. The same."
"He kidnapped you", she realized. "He took you away from Angel."
"He tried to save me!", he quickly responded, defensively. Then, realizing what he was saying, he replied more quietly. "What he did was…wrong. But I understand why he did it. He was hurt. My father… killed his family. Long ago. His wife. His daughter. His infant son. All of them."
Dawn's eyes widened in surprise at Connor's revelation. "You mean Angelus did, right?"
"Does it matter?", Connor asked, a scowl returning to his face. "Whether or not is was with a soul or without one…it doesn't make them any less dead. Holtz was lost. Nothing left to live for. At least with me, he had the chance to live his dream. Have a family. Or something close to it. I can't hate him for that…not completely, at least."
Dawn looked down awkwardly, unsure of what to say.
"Wow…and here I thought I had father issues", she faintly smiled.
At that, Connor turned to her. He didn't like talking about himself much, especially since most of his life, from his vantage point, sucked. "And you? What's your family like? I've already met your sister…and her fist."
Dawn chuckled slightly. It was good to see that even after all the glowering and the brooding, Connor did indeed have a sense of humor.
"Well, come on", Connor managed to smile. "What's your family like? Mother? Father?"
Dawn's eyes lowered slightly. Her smile faded into a sadder glance. "My mother…she was the best. But she was very sick and she…died two years ago. My sister came home and found Mom dead on our couch. Life hasn't been the same since."
"What was she like?"
A smile came to the young girl's lips. "She was…warm and sweet. She had this…smile that could make everything you would worry about just go away. She never judged anyone; she could always see the good in something bad. And when she held you…it's like there was no place in the world that was safer than her arms."
Connor smiled wistfully. He suddenly found himself picturing his own mother. Even though he barely knew her, there was something so soothing, so calming about Darla. How could he help to do anything but love her?
"And your father?"
Dawn's smile faded and a bitter, hard look crossed her pretty face. "Let's just say he wasn't anything like her…or your dad."
She struck a little too close to home. "Is that such a bad thing?", he asked, that harsh glare resurfacing on his face once again. "At least your father wasn't a murderer."
"And at least yours is still in your life", Dawn shot back. "I haven't seen my father since I was 9. He missed every birthday, every report card, and every single second of my life in between. He didn't even come to visit us when Mom died. He had his secretary send us flowers."
Connor was taken aback by that. Dawn seemed like the kind of girl he pictured growing up with a mom and a dad and siblings, like those postcards he had often seen in the windows of those Hallmark stores in L.A. He never could have imagined that her father would have been so cold as to have completely cut off ties with his own children, his own family, let alone someone as wonderful as Dawn. Granted, his own dad may not have been what he wanted out of a parent, but at the very least, there was a part of Connor that registered the fact that in spite of everything that had happened between them, Angel did seem to care for him. Perhaps, even love him.
"That's…that's awful", Connor managed to say.
Dawn sighed, taking a moment before turning her blue eyes back in Connor's direction. "Look, I can't pretend to understand everything about what happened between you and Angel, so I'm not gonna. But the fact that he's still there in your life, it says a lot. It's more than you'll know. So, my advise to you? Get to know him. The real him, not whatever you've drawn up from other people. Take this from a girl whose lost practically her entire family. Once they're gone…they're gone."
For Dawn Summers, that was a statement that held its weight in stone. In spite of how Buffy would always try to protect her, to shield her from the harshness of the world, even the Slayer could not stop Dawn's world from collapsing around her. Her mother, her father, Tara, even Buffy herself, for a little while…all were gone. Either dead, or uncaring, or too overwhelmed to find time to be there for her. It wasn't hard to guess her worst fear: being alone.
Connor took that advice into thought. It could happen, he supposed. Granted, he knew that Angel would never grow old, never die the normal death that humans would endure. But he was only as immortal as one piece of wood through the heart, or a few seconds of sunlight or a lucky slice to the head from whatever Creature-Of-The-Week he seemed to always be tracking down. Just because he could be around forever didn't mean that he would
Both teens looked down awkwardly, unsure of what to say next.
"What…what's Quaker Oats like, anyway?", Dawn asked.
Connor forced down a smile that threatened to come from her mispronunciation of his birth world. "Quor'toth", he replied, before somberly describing his former home, "is like…well, picture this world. Only the sky's always the same. It's both bright red, like the fires of hell, and pitch black, like the bowels of nothing. There are things there; demons that make vampires seem like plush toys. The very air you breathe is thick, full of ash, and noxious gases. There's no sun. There's no ocean. No stars. No clouds. No light. No hope
"Every turn you make, there's something there, waiting for you. Waiting for food. And when you sleep, there's always something you hear moving. Something screaming. Something eating. And every moment that passes, you wonder if it's your last." He looked away from her. "Quor'toth…is hell."
Dawn was speechless, her heart breaking after hearing his story. She couldn't even begin to imagine that such a place to exist, let alone being forced to grow up in such a horrible place. And to think that poor Connor had to grow up in a world like that…
"Oh, God." She shook her head, stunned. "Connor…"
"Wanna hear the twisted part of it?", Connor bitterly laughed, though he could feel his eyes start to slightly mist. "Sometimes, when I lie awake at night…I…I sometimes wonder if I really belong in this place. In this world. I mean, son of two vampires, right? Maybe I can't fit in this world…because I wasn't meant to. Darkness is the only thing I've ever known, my whole life. Maybe the darkness is where someone…some…thing…like me really belongs. Maybe the darkness is the only place I can feel like home because…that's where…freaks…like me…really belong." Cage's taunting words still rung in his mind. Still cut him to the bone. Because, deep in his heart, there was a part of Connor that knew that it was true.
He was a freak. Always had been, always would be.
Acting as if by natural feeling, Dawn reached out and took his hand.
"Hey", she said gently. "You wanna talk 'freak'? I'm a make-believe girl made up of glowing green energy. My 90-pound sister can bench press, like, a thousand pounds over her head, and my friends are a lesbian Jewish Wicca, a neutered vampire, an unemployed Watcher who used to be called 'Ripper', a millennium-old, money-hungry, ex-man-killing demon, and a guy who once dated a giant preying mantis. Not to mention, Vi's got weird fashion sense, Amanda's a band geek and Molly's…well, British. So, trust me when I say, I know 'freak'." Her eyes softened as she held Connor's gaze. "You're not a freak, Connor. You're just…unique."
" 'Unique'." Connor snorted bitterly. "Another way of saying 'different.' Saying…freak."
Dawn shook her head. "No. Connor, that's not what I…" She sighed. How could she make him understand? "You're…okay, take the Oreo cookie, right? On the outside, it's different. All the other cookies would look at it and say, 'weird'." She paused, considering the scenario. "That is, if cookies could, you know, talk, which would be gross because then you'd be eating, like, animals instead of baked dough products."
Connor frowned. "So, you're saying I'm an animal?"
"No!", Dawn blurted out quickly. "God, no."
"Then I'm like a cookie?" His confusion was evident by the bewildered look on his face.
"This sounded so much better in my head", Dawn groaned. "Look, an Oreo is all…layers and stuff, right? Weird, kind of crusty looking on the outside. But on the inside, viola! Gooey, creamy center that no one can resist." She smiled softly at him. " And, well, that's kind of like you."
Off the surprised look on his face to perfectly match his blush, Dawn realized how that sentence may have sounded, and felt her face redden with embarrassment.
"Um, uh…what I mean is…" she stammered as she fumbled for the right words. "Okay, so you're the son of two undead creatures-of-the-night. So, you grew up in a place that makes South Central look like Beverly Hills. So you've got all that super-strength, and super-speed, and super…everything. But cut that all away and dig beneath the layers and what's left?"
She reached with her free hand, placing it over Connor's chest, just above where she could feel the 'thump-thump', 'thump-thump' of his heart beating against the warmth of his chest.
Dawn took his hand with hers, placing it just above her own chest. The boy could only stare, mesmerized, as he felt the beating of her heart against his hand. And at that moment, nothing ever felt more beautiful, felt more right than to feel that warm sensation melting against the coolness of his touch.
"See that? Not so different." She tightened her grip on his hand. "You're just like me."
"Like you?", he echoed, his voice just above a whisper.
Dawn grasped his other hand. "Like me. We're the same, Connor." Her round blue eyes met his, unable to pull away from the draw of his icy blue eyes. "We're the same."
Without realizing it, their heads began to draw closer, their eyes lost in one another's gaze, their lips close enough to feel the breath from one another. Dawn felt her breath catch as she tilted her head upwards to him, while Connor could hear his own heartbeat pounding as he closed his eyes, pulling closer to her…closer…closer…
WHAM!
They jumped back as if lightning struck. They turned their heads to the floor below, where 'Cordelia' had re-entered the room, her eyes suspiciously scanning the balcony.
Dawn almost yelped in fright, but Connor, moving swiftly, seized her, muffling her mouth with his hand as he pulled her down, his body covering hers as the darkness hid them from sight.
His enhanced senses could hear her heart pounding wildly, smell the scent of fear seeping from every pore in her being. The two teens watched as 'Cordelia' slowly, predatorily scanned the tops.
"Be quiet", he instructed Dawn, his eyes focused on 'Cordelia', wary of her every move.
Dawn could only nod, her small frame feeling almost crushed by the way Connor threw his weight on top of her so suddenly.
They held their breaths as 'Cordelia' stalked with painstaking sluggishness, taking a few moments extra to quell her suspicions…
…and then, satisfied, turned around and left the room.
Sighing in relief, Connor removed his hand from Dawn's mouth. "That was close."
"Yeah", Dawn whispered. Her eyes, however, rested on Connor. "But this is closer."
Connor's eyes turned back to her, staring in embarrassment. Only now did he realize the intimate closeness of their situation, as their eyes were locked, her chest heaving up and down gently against his frame, the warmth of their bodies melding into each other.
"Connor?", Dawn whispered raspily.
"Yeah?", the boy answered back, his breath quickening.
"You're crushing my ribs", Dawn said, her voice slightly straining.
Connor's face reddened. He quickly backed up and off her body, suddenly glad that he could get out of that situation before Dawn could notice the growing…embarrassment of the situation.
"Sorry", he apologized. "Didn't mean to be so rough."
"S'okay", she said, rubbing her tender ribcage. "Looks like fake Cordy's getting a bit antsy, huh?"
"That's the problem", he frowned. "I know her. As soon as things get too hectic, she'll go running off to wherever she thinks is safest. That means we're running on borrowed time."
"Then we have to act now", Dawn replied. "We can't risk her running away. If she gets lost, in L.A., we'll never find her in time."
"But what can we do?", Connor asked. "We can't risk a full-on attack. Too much could go wrong. I can't put your lives at stake."
Dawn scrunched her eyebrows in thought, looking around, trying to think of something that would give them a hand. Her wandering eyes caught a rat scrambling across the other side of the factory. She watched with morbid curiosity as the rat slowly inched its way to where a piece of cheese was sitting idly…on top of a rat trap.
'Gross' was her immediate reaction.
SNAP!
And then the light bulb lit up in her brain.
"Bait!", she nearly exclaimed.
Connor looked at her. His face was one big question mark.
"She wants a sacrifice, right?", Dawn elaborated. "Young, virginal, female…that's me right down to the bone."
Connor's eyes widened in shock. "What?"
Dawn let out an impatient sigh. Somehow, she figured he would react like this. What was the big deal, anyway? They needed a plan, and she came up with one. It's not as if they had time to draw blueprints or whatever. "It's the only way. Look, you'll go up to her, use me as a sacrifice, only a fake sacrifice, and when her guard's down-"
"Dawn, you're crazy!", Connor hissed. "If we get that close to 'Cordelia', there's no guarantee that I can keep you safe. You could get hurt. Or worse."
"Connor, listen to me", Dawn said. "We've gotten this far. And we are not leaving this building without Cordy. We may be the only chance left at getting her back."
"This isn't a good idea", he shook his head. "I can feel it." That he could, all right. His instincts were well-honed in Quor'toth. And they were flaring with warning right now. This plan…it just didn't feel right.
She placed a hand on his arm. "I trust you, Connor. I know you'll keep me safe if things get too rough."
He grasped her hand tightly. "No matter what happens, I'll protect you. I won't let her hurt you."
Noticing the third instance of close contact between them in the last 5 minutes, the two teens abruptly, almost shyly, pulled apart.
"A-and besides, we've got Molly and Vi in position to do some major damage", Dawn pointed out, gathering her bearings. "We'll be done in no time. No pain, no gain, right?"
Dawn lay on the floor, shaken from the unexpected force behind Connor's hard throw.
Even though she was much tougher than her frail-looking body would give to suspect, still, being shoved to the ground by a preternaturally strong teenage boy could smart like the Dickens.
Above her, she heard 'Cordelia' gasp in delight.
"Oh, Connor!", she smiled, breaking slightly away, but clutching his forearms as she did. "Don't you see? This changes everything. Now", she said, her voice morphing back into that sweet, tender quality Connor was all-too familiar with. "Now, we can have our baby…and you can have the family that you've always wanted. You'll get to be a father, and I'll get to mother your child. Our child. Together." She reached up and tenderly stroked the side of his face, her touch soft and gentle.
Had this been about a day earlier, Connor would've melted underneath that touch, his will dissolving underneath that warm hazel-eyed gaze. But Connor was a day wiser now. He saw the wolf in sheep's clothing, and was determined not to let himself slip under her spell so easily this time. Especially since it was Dawn's life that depended on his decisions.
No, this time, it would be 'Cordelia' that would have the wool pulled over her eyes.
"Together", he repeated, swallowing. "Right."
"Let me have a look at her", Cordelia said as she reached out for Dawn, who was now panicked that once her face was seen, their cover would be blown.
"No!", Connor forcefully said.
A startled 'Cordelia' jumped back, her eyes regarding Connor with surprise, and some suspicion.
Realizing his mistake, Connor quickly replied, "Um…I mean…you've been through a lot. A-and…we should get that ritual started again, shouldn't we? Who knows how long it might be before my father finds us?"
At that prospect, 'Cordelia' shot him a worried, cautious glance. "Were you followed?"
"No, we were clean", Connor reassured her.
'Cordelia' breathed a sigh of relief. "Good boy." Her hands reached up and tenderly cupped his face, her hazel eyes softly gazing at him. "You're right. I need time to re-prepare the ritual."
"Then get everything ready", Connor said, returning his gaze to Dawn, who still faced the floor. "I'll stand watch."
"I trust you'll keep everything…under control?", 'Cordelia' inquired, her gaze measuring him evenly.
"I'll keep things safe", he responded calmly.
Nodding, the temptress whirled on her heels and strode back into the factory's main floor, preparing the ritual for her 'child's' conception.
Once his super-sensitive hearing detected that she was out of earshot, he bent down to check on Dawn.
"Are you all right?", he whispered, concern draping his face.
"I guess", she nodded, before slightly wincing. "Although butt bruisage feels imminent in the morning."
"Sorry", Connor flushed. "I…I just wanted to make it look real."
"Yeah, well, my shiny new bruises should be a good testament to that", Dawn snorted, not noticing how Connor flinched when she mentioned her bruises. She peered up at him, whispering. "Think she bought it?"
Connor nodded. "She's buying it. I can tell."
Dawn tilted her head to the right to see 'Cordy' sitting in the other room, candles lit around her, swaying back and forth, her eyes shut as she silently chanted some archaic language Dawn couldn't understand.
"What's she doing?" she asked Connor, perplexed at her behavior.
Connor remembered full well what happened, or what almost happened, to Anna after 'Cordelia' finished her bizarre ritual. The last thing he wanted to do was to frighten Dawn. He could be frightened enough for the both of them.
"Preparing the ritual", he answered, recalling the last time his 'mate' acted this inexplicably. "Once she's done, she'll come back in here and…" he hesitated , for once, choosing his words carefully. "…ready the sacrifice."
He chose his words carefully so as not to scare Dawn. He remembered full well what happened, or what almost happened, to Anna when 'Cordelia' finished her bizarre ritual.
But Dawn was no fool. She knew exactly what Connor meant. After all, this wasn't the first time some evil force wanted to spill her blood before.
Dawn swallowed. "Meaning me."
Connor looked away, not wanting to answer that.
"How long does that take?", Dawn asked as she swallowed down a lump of fear in her throat.
After a beat, Connor answered. "About 10, maybe 15 minutes."
Dawn Summers remembered that feeling all too well; that inescapable sensation of panic, of helplessness, of knowing that her fate was completely out of her hands, that her life was nothing more than a chess piece waiting to be knocked down. She could easily close her eyes and hear her heart pounding, her knees shaking like fluttering leaves on a blustery fall night, the silent prayers muttered under her breath, the tears of terror sliding down her cheeks. Glory's maniacal laughter ringing in her ears, her lips curled into a pitiless sneer, her eyes gleaming with wicked intent, as her drone-like, sycophantic minions readied her for the blood-letting ritual that would have returned Glory to her former home…at the cost of Dawn's life. Not to mention the lives of every existing creature in all the realities. And how it would have if not for Buffy's last minute heroics.
"You okay?"
Her eyes darted back to Connor, and in that moment, she was reminded that, unlike with Glory, she was not alone. Connor was here, as were Molly and Vi. And she knew, she had to believe, that they would do everything in their power to keep her safe when the time came.
"F-Fine", she stammered slightly, trying to form an optimistic smile, one which was not the most convincing, before she summoned up a small ounce of composure that had yet to escape her. "Um…you think you can stall her?"
He glanced back and forth from Dawn to the focused, chanting 'Cordelia'. "I think I can buy us some time."
"Like a day, maybe?", Dawn asked, hopefully.
Connor chuckled dryly, then managed a grim nod. "Well, maybe a few more minutes. In the meantime, just keep calm, and make sure you're ready to move."
"Oh, I'll be ready alright", Dawn nodded, checking the bonds.
Without realizing it, Connor's hand glided slowly to her face. It was a simple action, tucking back a stray lock of auburn hair and tucking it behind Dawn's ear. But the contact alone was enough to draw her attention, drawing her eyes to his. Suddenly self conscious of his proximity (and of how cute he looked even in dim lights), her cheeks reddened. Connor's breathing became shallow as his eyes swept reverently over her face. Twin sets of blue eyes met in a gaze so deep and penetrating that, for a moment, it was as if they were staring into each other's souls. They were drawing closer again, and his nose filled with her scent, like liquid candy, sweet and intoxicating, her lips tingling in anticipation, their faces only separated by a sliver of air…
"Connor!" called out 'Cordelia' from the other room. "Could you help me in here?"
The moment broke around them, much to their dismay. Connor, grimacing in sour displeasure, called back, "Just a minute!"
Dawn swallowed back a smile from her lips at the priceless expression on Connor's face. "You'd better go", she weakly offered.
"I'm sorry", Connor muttered, casting his eyes back to her, a shy smile fighting to appear on his face.
Now Dawn did smile. "Don't be."
Faith was bored.
And when she got bored, she usually tended to fall back on one of his more infamous habits: bugging the crap out of others.
And she was only too happy to begin her ritual on an entrapped Skip.
"Sweet! Ten points", Faith smirked as her penny ricocheted off of Skip's mystical cell, causing the energies surrounding the demon to violently sizzle and angrily crackle.
"Hey! Knock it off!", snapped the metallic minion. "Some of us are trying to think, here!"
"Gee, wouldn't want to disturb the whole 3 seconds it takes you to do that, now, would we?", Faith replied, a Cheshire Cat grin forming on her blood red lips.
Skip grew more irritated by the minute. "You know, pissing off angry demons can be hazardous to your health. Especially a demon that doesn't plan on being stuck in this little play-pen for much longer. "
"Said the minion-in-question to a Slayer", Faith snorted. "I've taken out bigger and tougher than you in my day, Nickel Face. You wanna tango? My dance card's wide open. Until then? Make like an oyster…and clam up."
She flicked another penny off his cell, sending violent sparks to vibrate all around the infuriated minion.
"Ten bucks says I can piss him off so bad those little red veins start popping in his eyes again", she laughed as she turned to Spike.
However, the blonde vampire seemed distant. Quiet.
Faith cocked her head, observing his odd behavior. "Right after I start taking off my top and performing a live strip tease with Willow."
Spike broke out of his distant fog, facing his companion with wide (and suddenly very attentive) blue eyes.
"Works every time", Faith smirked.
Spike sighed, running a hand through his platinum blonde hair. "Sorry 'bout that, pet. Guess I was just…"
"A million miles away?" the dark-haired Slayer finished for him. "Better focus some of that energy while we've got Spanky over there locked in his little cell."
"Yeah, and what a riveting assignment this is turning out to be", Spike groused, folding his arms across his chest. "Watching Aluminum Boy toss us a snark or two while he's just standing there like a bloody scarecrow" his knuckles growing whiter as he spoke. "…meanwhile, the Nibblet and the mini-Pouf are skating 'round L.A. playing 'superhero' while we got two unspeakable Big Bads looming on the horizon and the Apocalypse is right around the bend!"
"And the fact that Buffy asked you to be a benchwarmer completely overrides that fact that she chose her ex-squeeze toy to be the go-to guy in this sitch, right?", she smiled, knowingly.
Spike turns and scowls at Faith, but she stares back unafraid, smirking even, as those gorgeous brown eyes questioned him like the headlights of an interrogation room.
"It's not like that", he said, but too quickly to believe. Too quickly to believe it himself.
Faith's smirk never left, her right eyebrow cocked slightly. "Sure it isn't."
"You are in dangerous waters, Slayer", Spike warned.
"What can I say?", Faith chided. "Never been much for the Kiddie Pool."
"Alright…", Spike sighed, trying to choose his words carefully. "Maybe…there was…see, the thing with Buffy-"
"Hey", she held up her hand. "Preaching to the choir. I get were you're coming from."
Spike raised an eyebrow. "Do you?"
"Well, yeah", Faith shrugged, with an understanding gaze. "I kinda went through a phase like that with Angel."
Now Spike sat up, fully attentive. Surely, she didn't mean what he thought she did. "You mean…you and Angel-?"
"There was no me and Angel", Faith corrected, sighing. "I kinda wished it sometimes, don't get me wrong. I mean, you stew in an all-female correctional facility for 3 years and your only friend happens to be this tall, dark, sensitive and ridiculously handsome dude who, on top of that, is the only being on God's Green to think you're even worth two anythings? How could you not have a crush?"
Spike met her eyes, dead-panned. "Somehow, I think I'd manage."
Faith chuckled, swatting his arm. "You know what I mean, smart-ass."
"And again, here we go back to your peculiar obsession with my ass", Spike smirked. "Well, not peculiar. I mean, it is one fine looking ass, if I do say so myself."
"Yeah, whatever", Faith chuckled as she rolled her eyes. Though, she did admit, if only to herself, that he was right. "Getting back to the point", she continued, "I'm just saying I understand that whole 'unrequited love' deal."
Spike could barely believe what he head. "Wait, wait….unrequited-"
"Yeah, it took me a while to get over the whole 'Buffy-Angel' dynamic", she sighed, wistfully. "I mean, hey, never exactly been the poster girl for healthy and long-lasting relationships, but…they're good for each other, you know? I could get how it'd be hard to get over the Buffy crush-age. She's like cat-nip to guys…short, skinny, blonde, snippy cat-nip, but catnip no less, and-"
"It was more than that." Spike stared at her, his next words conveying their meaning. "A lot more."
Faith's eyes widened as she let out a surprised laugh. "No…don't even tell me Little Miss Tightly Wound's been getting her naughty on!"
Spike sighed, ruefully. "Not of late."
"Bad ending?"
Spike's mouth formed a grim line. "Least on my part it was."
"Man!", Faith slapped her knee, laughing. "What is with that girl and boinking the undead?"
"Hey!", Spike gave her a stern look, but added a wicked grin. "Don't knock what you haven't tried."
"Oh, yes, and God knows what I'm missing", Faith retorted, her eyes feigning pensive thought. "The romantic feeling of cold, clammy flesh on mine, the sensual sensation of my fingers on those freaky, rock-solid, ridged face wrinkles, and of course, the ever-pleasurable knowledge that a snack for said vampire lover is only one bad hickey away."
Spike's faced soured as he glared at Faith. "Never heard Buffy complain about it", he grumbled.
A question formed on Faith's lips. "Does Angel know…?"
"About me and his 'one-true' doin' the horizontal tango?", he smirked. "Don't know, don't much give a piss."
"So…what?", Faith inquired, trying to be as subtle as possible. "Are you…like still making a play for her or…?"
The question lingered in the vampire's mind. It was a question that he'd been pondering for some time, now. He put himself through unimaginable hell for her, all for her, so that he could be worthy, in her eyes…so he could be the kind of man that she deserved. And that was quite the tall order, because Buffy Summers deserved better than the best. She deserved…perfection.
Yet, Buffy hadn't touched him since he had his soul restored to him. He'd been too busy being insane, then under the thrall of the First, then kidnapped and tortured…too much had happened in the middle of this mess for him and Buffy to have a real heart-to-heart on where they stood. About his new soul, what it meant, what it meant, for him, for her, for them…if there was even a 'them' to be talked about. But the question was never far from his thoughts.
"Maybe. Dunno, really." Spike sighed. "Don't suppose there's much stoppin' me, now, is there?"
Faith snorted. "Sure…except for the six-foot-tall, broad-shouldered, super-strong, slightly possessive guy who knows, like, a hundred fighting styles in the same room with her."
Spike smile falls, a dark glower morphing on his face. "I'm not afraid of Angel."
Faith wasn't buying it. "Even though he could probably tie you into a pretzel knot before he makes an ashtray into your new permanent residence?"
He felt himself bristle a little. He was William the Bloody, damn it! His name was feared around the world, had been for over a century. His name was synonymous with painful death and destruction. The thought, the mere notion that someone else thought that he could play second fiddle to an ape like Angel…
"You don't think I could take him?"
"I don't think anyone could take him", she waved her hand, dismissing the notion. "Not if he was really trying to beat you."
Now it was Spike's turn to snort. "You've obviously never seen me get down and dirty, luv."
"Who knows?", she flashed a smile that at best, could be considered flirty, at worst, outright lascivious. "If a girl plays her cards right…"
Spike's surprised look at her comment turned to a soft, yet incredulous laugh. He didn't know why, or what, but there was some strange energy, some connection, some…spark between them that refused to be ignored. It wasn't burning white hot like the passion he shared with Dru, or the fire that Buffy ignited in his heart…but it was real. Warm, humming, glowing in anticipation.
Faith surprised herself a little. True, she was never exactly a wallflower, but she hadn't taken it upon herself to blatantly flirt in a good long while. She knew she never really had to, the way she looked. Guys came to her, and she picked them at her own choosing. And yet, she found herself openly flirting with a stranger whom she barely knew and a vampire, no less (albeit a handsome one). That was more than a little unnerving to Faith…
…but not exactly unwelcome, either.
Shifting gears, she directed her view to the two champions across the hall. "So, uh…got any bets on what our fearless leaders are planning?"
Spike shook his head. He'd never put it past Buffy to come up with a plan. After the hell she's endured for the last seven years, it'd been drilled solidly into her head to have a plan. He knew better than most that beneath that schoolgirl smile and the bouncy blonde 'do was the mind of one of the greatest warriors he'd ever faced. And Spike had faced many. And, begrudged as he would be to admit it, Angel was always the strategist out of the Scourge of Europe; always thinking, always planning, always two steps ahead of everyone. He wielded a feared and powerful reputation as either the heroic Angel or the murderous Angelus for one reason: soul or no soul, he always had a plan.
Still, far be it from him to give credit to anything his Pouf-y Grandsire was ever involved in. Especially anything that involved both him and Buffy. "What makes you think they even got a plan?"
"Because, man" , Faith gave him a strange look, before gazing back, almost reverently, at the two people whose opinion mattered most to her. "Guys like Angel and Buffy? They're made for moments like this. Hell, they were practically born for this. It's what they do. It's who they are. Knowing them…smart money says from point A to Z", she paused, a smile on her lips, "…They know exactly what to do."
"What do we do?", Buffy asked, dismayed, leaning back against the desk of his study.
Angel, standing steadily across from her in the doorway, shook his head. "I wish I knew."
The two warriors were in deep thought for much time following their retreat in Angel's study.
"I…I just can't believe that Dawn would do this", Buffy shook her head, angrily. "How could she be so stupid?"
"I'm sure she'll be fine, for the moment, anyways", Angel offered her some comforting, if not unrealistic words. "I mean, she did grow up in Sunnydale, which can be a dangerous place at night. And-and she does have Connor with her". He trailed off, upset. "Although I'm definitely going to give him a piece of my mind when he gets back. He should've known better."
Buffy frowned. "So, my kid sister's wandering around in one of the biggest cities in the world, looking for an evil being, in the body of our friend, who's pretty fond of the mayhem and murder bit, and your most comforting offering is that she's accompanied by street smarts from Hellmouth Central and a hormonally-charged teenage kid with major Oedipal complex and violence issues?"
Angel sheepishly shrugged. "Well, I…I guess I'm just saying it could be worse."
"Sure", Buffy said, dryly. "She could be meeting some nice drug dealers on the way. Although drugs might be a logical explanation as to why she chose to run off on this little suicide-capade."
"The others are working on a way to locate Cordy", Angel said, calmly. "I'm sure they'll come up with something soon. Between Giles, Wesley and Willow, they should be done faster than we know it."
"And then what?", Buffy asked him. Off his questioning look, she replied, "Angel, I think it's a given that we find Cordy. But then what happens?"
"We save her, get our kids home, take the demon out of Cordy, save the world, then ground them 'till their Social Security kicks in", Angel replied. "Which, in Connor's case, will be a long time, considering he doesn't have any Social Security. Or birth records, for that matter."
Suppressing a smile, Buffy pressed on. "I mean, what if things get too crazy when we find her? In spite of this tremendous brain-freeze, Dawn is a smart girl. By now, she's probably found 'Cordy'. Which means she and Connor could be in big trouble."
"I'm not following", Angel replied, confused.
She smirked. "Well, being quick was never one of your strong points."
"Buffy", he sighed her name softly, prompting her to continue.
"Sorry", she said, getting back to the point. "The thing is…let's say it comes down to a choice. Say in one hand, we have Cordy's life. And, say, in the other hand, we have Connor's. And Dawn's. I think we both know from experience that we can't have our cake and eat it, too." She broke off, staring far off into a distant memory. "Sometimes, things happen. Things we can't control. Things we can't stop no matter how much we…and even though we don't want to make that choice…we have to. For the greater good."
Angel knew what she was referring to, as his brown eyes met her sad green ones. He slowly took several steps towards her, closing the gap between them.
"You never should've been forced to make that decision."
For all the harsh and painful memories that Angel held, few were ever more heartbreaking than when Buffy, faced with the choice of saving her beloved or saving the world, was forced into making that gut-wrenching sacrifice of stabbing him through his heart with a sword, watching the only man she ever loved being swallowed whole into Hell, so that the world could see another sunrise. Even through all of his torment and the nightmarish centuries he spent in that horrific place, he never held any grudge against Buffy. For he knew she did what she had to do, to protect her family and friends, to protect what she was chosen to protect. He only loved her more for it, trusted her even more than he ever had, for when it came down to it, she proved that she would be able to grant him the best peace of mind that she could: that in his absence, she could protect others from himself. From the monster within him.
From Angelus.
She sighed wistfully, staring up into his eyes. "I wish I never had to. Every day. But what's done is done. We can't change it, no matter how much we want to."
Angel knew where this was going. "Look, Buffy-"
"And that's exactly my point", she continued, undeterred. "We have no idea what we can expect when we find them. There might be a chance to save them all, but if Metal Face is right…there might not be anything we can do to help Cordy."
Angel wasn't having any of that. He hadn't come this far to lose Cordelia. After what happened to Doyle all those years ago, he made a promise to himself that he wouldn't lose anyone else, if he could help it. He had to reassure Buffy that this would work.
"Look, Willow and the others will find a cure for Cordy. They're probably putting the finishing touches on something right now-"
"Angel", Buffy cut him off. "Look, I…I understand, Cordy's your best friend. God knows how hard it was for when Willow went bad, but…" she paused, taking a deep breath before her eyes met his. "I think it's time we think worst-case scenario."
He abruptly rose, walking away from her. His voice was soft-spoken, but with an edge hard enough to cut through diamonds. "Don't."
She shook her head, sadly. "I have to"
He whirled on her, his dark eyes flashing. "You're asking me to kill Cordelia?"
"No", she replied, her voice soft, but firm. "I'm asking you to be strong. To be able to make the right decision if we're forced to."
His voice was almost pleading. "Buffy, I don't think I can-"
"You have to" she insisted. God, she hated this, hated herself for even thinking about something like this, but it had to be done. Someone had to be the strong one. "Or else Dawn & Connor are dead."
Angel had to make his share of tortured decisions in his much-too-long life. Leaving Buffy, accepting his infant son's loss, cutting off his friends when he waged war on Wolfram & Hart…he knew that this would be yet another one of those times, another time when he would have to lose yet another piece of his already fractured soul.
But to even consider doing this to Cordy…she had been there from the start. In every form, in every shape that his embattled crew had taken since the night he arrived in the City of…for the first time in this city, Cordelia Chase has always been there. He watched her evolve from that vain, brash, carefree schoolgirl he knew all those years ago into a capable, confident, even sensitive (at times) young woman. Through his toughest moments, his most painful times, she was his rock. Her steadfast loyalty was one of the few things that kept him going in the face of the omnipresent darkness he fought every night. To abandon her now, when she needed him most to be the champion she believed him to be, to just turn his back on one of the most important people in his life…
He could barely speak as he met Buffy's eyes. "I can't."
Someone has to be the strong one. Summoning every ounce of courage, the little blonde Slayer took a deep breath and met Angel's pained face. "Then I will."
His eyes bored into her so hard, it took every fiber of courage she had not to flinch; it was if he was staring into her very soul. "Do you really think you have enough in you to have innocent blood on your hands?"
No, she silently admitted, I don't. She would never even consider taking a human life, led alone the life of a friend, but too much was at stake for her to make this decision as Buffy. She had to make this decision as the Chosen One, the Slayer.
"Whatever that thing is, it's far from innocent. It's killed people—"
"But Cordy's innocent in all of this!" Angel snapped. "That thing is what's been the cause of everything that's happened."
"I know", Buffy bit out, before taking a calm breath of air. Losing her temper would not help this situation. She knew he wasn't going to give in to this without a fight. It was part of what she loved about him. But time was running short; she had to press on. "I know…but it doesn't matter. We're running low on time, lives are at stake, and whatever that thing's giving birth to, I doubt it's the Ally McBeal dancing baby." She paused, frowning. "Although that would be a portent to an apocalypse, now that I think about it."
"This isn't a joke, Buffy!"
"No, it's not a joke. I get how serious this is!", she shot back, bristling. "God, Angel, you think I want this? Do you see me putting up party streamers at the prospect of having to kill one of my friends?"
"No, but…" he trailed off, eyes averting to the floor. "You don't understand."
"Then make me!" Buffy stepped closer to him, her questioning eyes scanning for the answers on Angel's face. "Make me understand…look, Angel, I know this from experience, it's never easy to come to this point with one of your closest friends, but-"
"She's more than that."
Her eyes went wide as she recoiled backwards, letting the meaning of those words sink in.
"More than that." She repeated those words, "Exactly…how much more?"
Off the look in her eyes, Angel muttered a curse under his breath…or lack-thereof. Through the telling of his life in the last 3 years, he hadn't mentioned to Buffy about the unusual dynamic that had formed between himself and Cordy; a bond that mistook for a time, a brief time, as romance. He knew he had some more explaining to do with Buffy (a conversation that he was not in the least looking forward to) but he, too, knew that time was running out, and far too quickly to discuss the strange and complicated saga of 'Angel-Cordelia'.
"This isn't the time for that", he said quietly.
"The time for what?", her voice…she had to fight to keep it from hissing out of her, a wave of jealousy washing over her, though she had no real idea why.
"Look…this isn't about what I feel", he said, his stony eyes locking with Buffy's yet again. "It's about what I do…this is about saving someone's soul."
Those words…so similar to what he told her the night she came to L.A. years ago to make Faith pay for her recent romp through Sunnydale, in Buffy's body, no less. She was still too young, too hurt from the way things ended between them, to understand what he was doing in L.A., when he should have been by her side, when she needed him so badly.
But over time, she had come to understand what he meant, understand Angel's significance to that city, and to the world. He wasn't just saving lives, he changed them. For the better. Even in Sunnydale, either from Willow or in hushed whispers 'round the demon bars, she'd heard tales from the growing legend of the vampire-with-a-soul, the Champion. The things he'd done, the lives he'd saved, the demons he and his crew had slain…it only reaffirmed what Buffy knew all along about Angel: that given a second chance at life, he could make amends. And do good.
So she squelched the temptation to snap out at him, say something petty about him hiding behind 'the mission' in order to avoid answering her question, reminding herself that this wasn't the time to be focusing on her romantic life; this wasn't the time to be Buffy. Summoning the Slayer within her, she focused back on what mattered: the mission.
"Yes, it is." She nodded, her gaze almost hypnotic to him, communicating her message with a force that words could not. "And right now…it's about saving two of them. A planet full, actually."
The door suddenly swung open. "Hey, guys", Xander said, the shortness in his breath tipping them off that he'd been in a hurry to get there. "Willow sent me. I think they've got a lock on Cordy."
Buffy nodded. "Thanks, Xand. Tell them we'll be there in a minute."
A brief nod and a click of the door later, Xander was gone.
"Look…Angel, I can't force you to make this decision, but…" he followed Buffy's gaze out into the hallway, where their friends and allies were. "There are a lot of people counting on us to do the right thing. I can make the suggestion, but whether or not we do it…it's your choice."
Angel felt dread trickling down his spine. As much as it pained him, he knew Buffy was right. Too many lives were at risk, his son and her sister's among them, to delay on a decision he knew he had to make. But could he really bring it upon himself to end the life of one of the two most important women in his life? His best friend?
He honestly didn't know, but with time ticking away, he was sure of one thing…
Things were not looking good for Cordy. Not in the least.
'Vanu'esh katahn darh'im vajra'ha'esh.'
'Vanu'esh katahn darh'im vajra'ha'esh.'
'Cordelia' swayed back and forth as she performed the archaic magicks that would prepare the ritual for the birth.
This was working out better than she had hoped. And it was a good thing, too, since 'the Boss' had issued that deadly ultimatum. Unfortunately, there hadn't been too many virgins that had popped up since her last failures. She was rapidly beginning to lose hope that she could perform the ritual at all…until Connor's miraculous appearance.
However, in spite of the hurriedness of the situation, she could not shake the uneasy feeling in her stomach, the nagging feeling that just wouldn't go away. She certainly didn't mind having a sacrifice ready, of course. One dead virgin was just as good as the next. Still, something about Connor's behavior was throwing her off. Not that he was ever the portrait of calm and serenity, but that fact of the matter was, she wasn't stupid. How could she not be keeping a close eye on him, especially after what happened earlier with Darla the Friendly Ghost's appearance? How could she not question the timing of the events? Connor's sudden change of heart, after his captivating performance of the 'good son' with Darla earlier that evening…and what was the deal with him not wanting to show her the face of the girl?
She didn't have much time on her hands, but there were questions that needed to have answers.
She opened her eyes to find Connor, restlessly pacing back and forth, not a few feet from her. His eyes kept darting back and forth between herself and the stock room where the girl was being held. It was too strange that he could be so fixated on the girl, especially since he seemed so willing to get on with the ritual just earlier. Why would he be so concerned about her fate when he seemed so on-board with her? Why would he care?
"Connor", she called out to him, snapping his attention back to her. "Hand me the Prio-Motu entrails."
His expression was stoic as he reached over and passed her a jar containing the demon organs. She watched him carefully, even as she reached into the jar, grabbing the vile-smelling organs and placing them into a jar mixed with herbs, salts, and other concoctions, beginning to grind and mix them with a pestle.
"Why so nervous?", she asked, forcing her voice to sound casual to mask the suspicion and concern she felt.
Connor looked up, caught off guard by her question. "What?...Nervous? Me? What makes you think that?", he forced a chuckle, looking away from her.
'Cordelia' fixed a probing gaze on him. "You've just seemed kinda…different?"
"I'm….I guess I'm just…excited about our baby, you know? Our baby?"
"I was beginning to think you were a lost cause…"she said, scowling at the memory of why. "Especially after what happened after Mommy popped in for a little 'bitch-to-son' chat."
His knuckles grew white at the mention of his mother in such a disdainful manner. An action that was not unnoticed by 'Cordelia'. But he knew he had to keep his composure. He was guessing that this Cordelia imposter had no idea that the captive in the other room was really the Slayer's sister. Or that this was really a sting operation to nab her. At least, that's what he was banking on.
Drawing in a calm breath, he replied, "She…she wasn't…she wasn't what I thought she was."
'Cordelia' kept her watchful gaze on him, even as she mixed the ingredients. "What'd you think she was?"
"Understanding." He forced down the smile threatening to tug at his lips. "Caring."
"And I wasn't?", she asked, slightly annoyed.
Connor took a deep breath, and then met her eyes. "You were." Not! "I…I was just…confused, is all."
Her eyebrow cocked upwards, still not convinced. "Seem to be doing that a lot these days" She decided to switch tactics. "So…tell me about the girl."
Connor stiffened for a moment as Dawn's pretty face flashed in his mind, but managed to steel himself for the answer. Her safety was in his hands and he had no intention of letting her down. Besides, it certainly wasn't the first time he'd ever lied before. "What about her?"
The thing was, however, 'Cordelia' knew that. The kid had managed to lie to those closest to him for three whole months while Angel, his own father, had unwillingly taken up deep sea diving, thanks to Connor. This was a game, a staring contest, a game of mental poker. And she had no intention of cracking. "Well, for starters, where'd you find her?"
"In an alley", he replied, quick, but not too quickly.
"What alley?", she cut in, almost as quickly.
Resisting the urge to let his eyes dart around, Connor feigned a careless shrug. "I don't know, a few blocks off from the hotel."
She was not satisfied. "When?"
He was getting irritated. Fast. "A little while ago…what's with all the questions? I got you a girl, didn't I?"
'Cordelia' looked taken aback. Keyword, 'looked'. One of the more handy skills she had picked up from forcing her way into the real Cordelia Chase's body was her convincing acting skills. "What, I can't be curious about the welfare of my own child? Why are you getting so defensive?"
"Why can't you just trust me?", he asked defensively.
"Because you haven't exactly had my back on everything, lately, have you?", she asked, the question as loaded as a Red Sox fan at a Boston pub during the '04 World Series run.
Irritated, he snapped, "Well, if that's the way you feel, maybe I should just go…and take the girl with me."
Her scowl was so black she could have blocked out the sun with it…again. "Don't. You. Dare."
Connor forced down a smile. He knew he just won the contest. "Just kidding." He reached out and brushed back a lock of hair from her face. "You shouldn't get so mad…that's not healthy for the baby."
"And we wouldn't want that now, would we?" 'Cordelia' smiled, yet stared at him, almost daring him to say otherwise. Daring him to blink in this little staring contest they've been having.
Connor's face was unreadable, but his words were gentle, a contrast to the uneasy feeling in his gut. "No. We wouldn't."
Fred and Gunn sat on the stairs of the lobby, directly across from the study where Buffy & Angel were talking, waiting for Lorne's spell to finish.
"What do you think they'll do?", Fred asked, watching fretfully.
Gunn replied stoically. "What they have to, like their kind always does."
"What kind is that?", Fred asked.
"Heroes, babe", Gunn replied, his eyes gazing at the two warriors with a hint of admiration in his eyes. "Champions. It's what they do. It's why they're here. For times like these."
Fred wanted desperately to find some comfort in his words, but based in everything she had seen so far, even her steadfast, often blind faith was now being shaken. If everything she heard from Skip was right, then did anything they could do even count for anything? Would there be a point? Would there be a meaning for fighting back?
With a sigh, the sprightly Texan gave voice to her fears. "Will it make a difference? If we really are just pieces being moved around a board…"
"Then we'll kick it over and start a new game", Gunn replied, his voice gaining strength, confidence. "Look, monochrome can yap all he wants about no-name's cosmic plan but here's a little something I picked up rubbin' mojos these past couple of years: the final score can't be rigged.
"I don't care how many players you grease, that last shot always comes up a question mark. But here's the thing—you never know when you're taking it. It could be when you're duking it out with the Legion of Doom or just crossing the street deciding where to have brunch. So you just treat it all like it was up to you, the world in the balance", he broke off, smiling faintly. "…'cause you never know when it is."
Charles Gunn was never much into the philosophy of destiny. He never liked the idea of not being in control of his own life, his own fate. When the odds told him that he would be fated to die before he saw the age of 20 in his brewing street war with the vampires of L.A., he steeled himself and fought back with everything he had. And he beat those odds. He lost friends and even his sister along the way, but he survived, even when everyone told him he couldn't, even when he doubted himself at times that he could or should have survived.
But Gunn never stopped believing. He was a fighter his whole life, the choice or lack thereof that he was given. He continued to survive, so that he could fight to ensure that no one else would ever have to go through what he did: to lose his family, his mother, father and sister to the unseen evils that lurked in the darkness. And he wasn't about to stop fighting, or believing, when the world was now hanging in the balance.
Especially when it came to his faith in the man that had brought he and his friends this far, the man that time and again he knew to defy the odds himself.
Though he would never admit it, for he was too proud and stubborn to do so, Angel was one of the strongest men that he knew. And not because of the steel-bending super-strength that came with being a 200 year-plus creature-of-the-night. It was Angel's unrelenting determination, his resolve, his will to win that made him so unlike anyone or anything that Gunn had ever witnessed. After seeing Angel do the things he had done in the two years he spent fighting alongside him, seeing the people whose lives he saved, whose souls he touched with his compassion and mercy, seeing him struggle through the personal grief, loss and torment that faced him at every turn and still walk away, still standing and stronger, he felt as though nothing could ever be strong enough to truly break him.
He wasn't about to lose faith in that kind of man. That kind of being.
Angel deserved more than that.
As far as Charles Gunn was concerned, Angel had earned that faith.
Fred Burkle resisted the urge to sigh like some moony-eyed teenager. It had been a long time, forever, it seemed like, since she'd seen Charl…er, Gunn, smile like that. Granted he seldom was for smiling, usually opting for the no-nonsense, menacing scowl that came with the territory of being the Muscle of Angel Investigations. But the few times when Fred did see him smile…honestly, the man had one of the most beautiful smiles she had ever seen.
"You been practicing that?", she smiled warmly.
He looked down to see Fred's brown eyes looking up at him, glowing in admiration. He fought the urge to shiver a little at the jolt he felt pass up his system when she looked at him like that. Like nothing was changed. Like they could still be Fred and Charles, the perfect couple with the breakfasts in bed, the soft words of love and endearment, the passionate love-making sessions deep in the annals of the night…like they never hurt or lied to each other, like he never caught her in Wesley's tender embrace, like they never…
Gunn, shaking off his thoughts, allowed himself to laugh. "Little bit."
Their private chat was interrupted when Lorne entered, holding a map, followed by Wesley, Willow, Giles, Xander and Darla.
"Hug your neighbor, kiddies", Lorne sang jubilantly. "We got it!"
Skip snorted. "You're all puppets."
Wesley pointed the smoking claw at him, his eyes flashing cold warning. "Shut up."
"Well, where is the bird?", Spike asked.
Willow glanced down at the map. "Well, according to the scorch marks, downtown."
"Gee, that narrows down to only a few hundred places she could be", Xander groaned as he scanned the map anxiously.
"Is your little hocus-pocus specific on where fake Cordelia and her spawn-in-the-oven are staked out?", Faith wondered.
"This appears to be the meatpacking district, if I'm not mistaken", Giles replied.
"It's a factory. That much I remember", Darla answered, before turning to Wesley. "How close is that from here?"
"About 10 minutes from here by car, a half-hour by foot", Wesley answered.
"Good work."
Angel's voice had startled them, as he and Buffy made their way back into the lobby. Their faces were etched into masks of impassiveness, their outward demeanor a reflection of levity and calm. But their eyes, if one could look hard enough, bore traces of sadness, or regret, for whatever action that they were about to embark upon.
Upon walking in, Angel took the map from Lorne, and then headed for the weapons cabinet. Buffy barely acknowledged the group with a sad nod before she joined Angel over by the cabinet, arming herself carefully.
Gunn instinctively took this as his signal. "Let's load up", he sighed as he moved to join them.
Angel's voice stopped him cold.
"No, you're not coming. Any of you."
Willow was surprised. "You're going after her alone?"
Buffy glanced to Angel, their eyes locked in silent understanding. With a sad nod, the Slayer turned back to her best friend. "We don't have a choice, Will."
"You sure that's a good idea, Sunshine?", Lorne asked, concerned. "I mean, the last time we tried going after her, we got our collective butts kicked."
"Yeah", Faith added. "Maybe it wouldn't hurt to bring a little back up-"
"No", Angel abruptly answered. "Buffy and I have to handle this ourselves."
"And you two are…decided on this matter?", Giles asked.
"Look, whatever's taken over Cordy…it's still her inside. She's still our friend", Angel explained, though it pained him to talk about it. As his eyes ticked from Buffy back to his friends, he swallowed hard before he continued. "We won't let you carry that."
"We can't", Buffy added softly. Her eyes met the stunned and saddened gazes of her friends. The undertone made it quite clear what they had decided upon.
"But there could be another way", Darla insisted. "What about the spell? What about-"
"What about your son, Darla?", Buffy cut in, her voice slightly edged, but softening upon remembering that Darla was Connor's mother. "What about my sister? Or her friends? Or everyone on Earth? Put yourself in our position. What would you do?"
Darla wanted to argue, felt her newfound instinct to defend innocent life flare, but could not. It was her son, after all. She had just found him again, after she never thought that she would get another chance to. She lost him once; she didn't think she could bear to lose him twice.
Buffy sighed. How to make them understand… "Look, Plan A isn't 'us-running-off-to-lop-off-Cordy's-head'. If we can save her, then we will. We'll do whatever it takes. But all of you know that sometimes…things happen. Plans change. And if we can't help her, if it comes down to that thing inside her and the people we love, the people we've been sworn to protect…then we need you to understand what we're prepared to do." She swallowed. "What we may have to do."
Skip sighed, bored with the ongoing drama. "Anybody got a hanky?"
Ignoring the demon, Spike grimly spoke up. "So…that's it, then."
Fred could barely believe this was happening. This wasn't right. It wasn't supposed to be like this. "They're really going to do it. They're going to kill Cordelia."
Wesley nodded, gravely. "They may not have a choice."
Xander gritted his teeth. "There's always a choice."
Buffy glanced unhappily at Xander, shaking her head. "Not always, Xander. Not always."
"Buffy, come on!", Xander said, his voice now pleading. "I mean…you're not really going to do this, are you? I mean, it's…it's Cordy!" His voice quivered, fighting the urge to break. He repeated it softly. "It's Cordy."
"I know." Buffy met his desperate gaze, pursing her lips together, her face showing her sorrow. Her voice was barely a whisper. "I know."
Angel took a broadsword and headed for the door. He turned back to Buffy. "We have to go."
Nodding solemnly, she grabbed her crossbow and headed after him, joining him side-by-side on top of the stairs as they retreated to the door, both warriors moving as one.
"Angel, wait!" Fred cried out one more time to appeal to her friend's common sense.
He turns to Fred and sadly shook his head, dashing any hopes Fred had of an 11th-hour change of heart.
Then, without so much as a glance, both Champion and Slayer stalked out of the Hyperion Hotel, leaving the others shocked into silence in the wake of their departure.
Skip couldn't help himself. "Yep. That'll go well", he smiled cheerfully.
Dawn watched the door with growing dread as she shifted her hands restlessly. The ropes binding her wrists together weren't inescapable, but they were pretty itchy. And as time grew closer to the ritual, she realized only now that perhaps she could have drawn up their 'big plan' with a little more…detail. But then again, everything happened so fast that there wasn't exactly time to draw up blueprints. Hell, she'd even settle for Andrew's 'Big Board' at the moment.
The thing about Dawn, though, was that she was never as unprepared or reckless as her friends may have thought her to be. Case in point, she had a Plan B…safely tucked underneath the right sleeve of her long-sleeve shirt.
A small vial, given to her courtesy of one Willow Rosenberg.
It was a little something she received as a gift, a guilt-trip gift, after Willow returned from England, fresh from the Wiccan Coven. The little red-headed witch, flooded with guilt from her near-world-ending actions last Spring, presented Dawn with a little peace offering. A small glass vial, filled with a mysterious yellow gas.
Remember, Dawnie, she remembered Willow's words to her. This is only to be used in case of a real emergency It-it's kind of got a universal use to it, but…think of it as a little something to, you know…light your way.
Dawn smiled, thankful that the Western Hemisphere's most powerful sorceress suffered from one of the worst guilt trips ever. Because, boy, did this ever qualify as an emergency.
Her thoughts where interrupted when she caught sight of Connor in the doorway. She almost yelped in surprise, the boy having made no sound as he entered.
Connor swallowed. "Come on…it's time."
Dawn nodded, then held out her hands. Just as Connor laid his hands on the ropes, she whispered, "Remember what we talked about. Make it look real."
With a simple nod, Connor forcibly yanked hard on the ropes as he began to drag Dawn to the other room. The great show she made of squealing and struggling would look convincing enough for anyone.
Anyone, that is, but 'Cordelia'.
She stood there, watching Connor bring the girl into the room, another lamb offered for the slaughter. The key to this ritual, and her ticket to getting a very angry First Evil off her back, was only a few feet – and one good swing of a meat cleaver- away for her…
So why did something still tell her that something smelled more rotten than the putrid stench of dead meat that permeated this hell hole? And why did she have the sinking feeling it had to do with the girl?
A smile creeped up on her face. "Connor…could you hand me that vial over there?"
"Vial?", Connor frowned, turning his head towards the dimly-lit circle of candles and supplies a few feet from them. "I don't see any—"
In a flash, 'Cordelia' moved with lightning speed and roughly grabbed Dawn's face. Startled, the youngest Summers let out a yelp as her wide blue eyes met the eerily sharp gaze of the impostor.
"Dawn?", 'Cordelia' exclaimed, before her shock turned to anger. "Dawn Summers?"
Connor whirled around in surprise. She moved surprisingly fast for a heavily pregnant woman. And faster than he was prepared for.
" 'Cordy'. Hi", Dawn greeted in reply, her voice dripping sarcasm. "Gotta tell ya-I hate the outfit."
"You." The pregnant woman's eyes whipped wildly to Connor, realization flashing through furious hazel eyes. "You little…you brought her here? Now? Do you know who she is?"
Connor backpedaled, somewhat. "What? No, I-"
She advanced on him, snarling every word. "Her sister, her meddling, goody-two-shoes, bleach-blonde glory-hog sister, is the Slayer! If you brought her here, then you'll lead them right to us!"
Connor drew up his full height, not flinching from her verbal onslaught. "You said it had to be a virgin! I looked everywhere, and this was the best I could do, alright? There's your girl, so what's the problem?"
She laughed bitterly. "Girl? You half-wit, she's no girl, she's…"
The Key, she recalled, as the real Cordelia's memories began flipping through her mind's eye. She pulled up the story that Willow told Angel's gang, about Dawn's true nature, and the awesome power locked away inside the girl.
More specifically, in her blood.
'Cordelia' gasped as the realization hit her. "The Key's blood…"
At that moment, a worried Dawn and a suddenly ecstatic 'Cordelia' were thinking the same thing: If Dawn's blood held the power to open dimensional pathways through space and time…one could only imagine what it could do for the power of the 'baby' inside 'Cordelia'.
Meanwhile, in the corner of stacked boxes not 10 feet from where they stood, Vi and Molly tried to make out the situation. They heard the shouts, read their body movements, yet could not fully understand what was happening.
But their instincts were telling them, screaming at them, that something was terribly wrong.
Even more so as Connor's body blocked Molly's view on 'Cordelia'…but not on Dawn.
Vi couldn't understand. "What's he doing? Molly? What's he doing?"
Molly shook her head, perplexed. "I don't know. I don't know!"
"Take the shot, Molly!", Vi urged her frantically. "You have perfect aim. Take the shot…now!"
"I…I can't", Molly hesitated. "He's blocking my view to 'Cordelia'. I can't lock in without risking hitting Dawn!"
As 'Cordelia' slowly advanced on her, the dim light catching off the meat cleaver, Dawn scuttled backwards, subtly moving her hand towards the vial under her sleeve. Connor, already tense from the start, slowly started to advance on his 'mate', knowing that his supernatural speed could have him intercept 'Cordelia' in half a heartbeat, his inherited strength could knock her out with a single, effortless blow…
Suddenly, 'Cordelia' turned to him, flashing a chilling smile. He took a step backwards, a little surprised by her movement…then stunned as she handed him the handle of the lethal weapon in her hands.
"Why don't you do the honors?"
His eyes met Dawn's stunned gaze, turning to the weapon offered him. "What?"
"Hey, you earned it, tiger." She winked, as she sauntered forward, placing the handle of the blade into his steely grip. She slowly maneuvered her way behind him, leaning towards his ear. "I mean, the power in this girl's blood? You've come through in ways I couldn't even begin to think of."
"But remember, nice and fast. After all" she turned back to Dawn, flashing a sneer dripping with malice, "her sister would just die if she thought the little darling suffered…wouldn't she?"
Dawn scowled back at the temptress. "Gee…you're just a walking, talking, homicidal Care-Bear, huh?"
'Cordelia' nudged him towards Dawn, then stepped backwards to get a better view.
Now was as good a time as any, Dawn figured. She looked up to Connor, who had her weapon in hand, and a completely unsuspecting 'Cordelia' in the wings.
"Now", she mouthed silently to him, encouraging him to make his move.
But he stood there, eyeing the blade in his hands, questioningly.
"Connor, what are you waiting for?", she whispered, confused. Why wasn't he moving?
His eyes looked eerily calm as he stared back at her, his expression unreadable.
Her fear began to rapidly build, confusion setting in. "Connor, what are you doing?"
She could see him turn the blade's edge away, ready for use, as his trembling hand started raising skywards.
A wave of icy fear washed over her as she saw the blade rise over her head. "What are you doing?"
And as she saw the watchful, eager gaze of 'Cordelia', the look of apprehension, of indecision in his eyes, her blue eyes widened in fear as her frightened voice could only meekly utter one word.
"…Connor?"
To Be continued…
A.N. – BOY, how's that for a cliffhanger, huh, kiddies? Fear not, I'm working on the next chapter as we speak. I swear, sooner or later, this story will be completed. R&R - l8ter!
Jean-theGuardian
