Double or Nothing

Author: Lysa Whitmore

Parts: 46 - Epilogue

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~Part: 46~
 

Nighttime shadows crisscrossed the bedroom as slivers of moonlight shone through the window blinds and the curtains layering them. Flickering with red light, the digital numbers of the clock-radio noted each passing minute while the slumbering brunette thrashed restlessly in the huge bed.

Cordelia heard the quiet tick of doom as the nightmare held her in its tight grip. It came as a whispering of unintelligible sounds too distant to make out in detail. Just loud enough to spark her curiosity and instantaneous fear.

Again, déjà vu struck with a fury and she knew she had been to this place before. Wherever it was, the truth lay beyond those hidden mists ahead and while the fear and confusion might have held her at bay, an irrepressible determination kept her moving closer and closer.

Halfway there, Cordelia’s point of origin was now lost in that gray mist leaving her isolated from the world around her. Its bleakness folded over her, wrapping her up in a gloomy shroud of forlorn feelings. Though her heart sounded its staccato in her ears urging her on, she could no longer move. She was trapped with nowhere to go.

Someone was watching. Waiting. Somewhere in the distance.

Then the mist thinned to reveal a lone figure stepping out of the shadows— Angel. She caught only a glimpse of his face before he moved toward that distant spot she could not reach. It came to her with sudden certainty that he was the reason she was here. Holding out her hand, Cordelia called out to him to wait for her to follow, but her plea was swallowed up by thunder as the lightning flashed overhead.

As the blue-green lightning dimmed, the vampire’s frame was cloaked in darkness as the mists thickened in the ever-growing space between them.

Screaming out his name, Cordelia shot into a sitting position on the bed, her hand automatically reaching out to the empty surface of the mattress where Angel slept. Only it was empty. The clock glowed the hour of 2:17am as Cordelia realized that he was still out on patrol. As she hugged her arms around her knees, she knew that if he’d been in the mansion there was no doubt at all Angel would already have been at her side.

“Damn nightmare,” she muttered wiping at the tears on her cheeks. This time she remembered bits and pieces whereas before it had been only the fear. And now it was Angel. There was something about Angel that she couldn’t quite place leaving her with chills and the taste of fear in her mouth.

“Don’t blubber about it Chase,” Cordelia admonished herself. “Get over it.”

The longer she sat in the bed staring into the darkness, the more it felt like her dream— full of loneliness and despair. Grabbing for the bedside phone, Cordelia keyed in the numbers of Angel’s cell phone. Moments later she heard the cheerful ringing coming from the charger on the opposite side of the bed.

“Can’t that manpire of mine learn to carry his cell phone once in a while? Sheesh! You’d think I was asking him to keep a live grenade in his pocket.”

With a bang, she returned the cordless telephone to its base. Angel was obviously not used to carrying it with him. Though Angelus had finally made a habit of picking it up on his way out of the mansion, his brother never carried one. As for the new champion, remembering that he owned a cell phone was apparently not on Mister I-Am-Angelus-D’Aurelius’ priority list.

Hmm…Cordelia Chase D’Aurelius, the errant thought popped into her head causing her to hold her breath at the impact it left behind. Whoa! Not gonna go there.

No wonder she was having nightmares, Cordelia concluded, trying to shake off the lingering sense of weirdness. After her mother sprung The Plan on them when she popped into the kitchen to help them with the pumpkin pie, be a little rattled was a natural reaction. Even if it did happen a week ago.

“I can see you’ve already made a start on dessert,” Emelia Chase commented wryly as she strolled across the tile floor and leaned against the island countertop. Angel had Cordelia pinned up against the refrigerator, their fingers interlocked beside her head as they kissed tenderly. “Will there be whipped cream with that?”

“Mother!” Cordelia sucked in a gasp of air, her eyes wide as they peered around the vampire’s shoulder to view Emelia’s amused expression. After all, she’d caught the full effect of seeing her daughter draped in leather and whipped cream the night they returned to Sunnydale. Why did I ever imagine she’d let that one go?

Angel had made a crack about understanding why Cordelia had no chance in the tact department. Between Daniel and Emelia, the two of them certainly said what was on their minds. His words only acted as a cue for her mother who decided to inform the two of them that she would be hosting their engagement party during the upcoming Christmas holidays.

“Our WHAT?” Staring at her mother as if she’d grown a second head, Cordelia looked as flabbergasted as she sounded. She doubted it was on Miss Manner’s list of polite dinner conversation to tell your parent she had lost her mind, but it was so obviously necessary considering The Plan that Emelia Chase divulged to them.

“Say something,” Cordelia hissed as she elbowed Angel in the ribs.

The vampire had been listening to Emelia prattle on about her plans for engagement parties, photo shoots and wedding consultants while a fascinated smile teased the corners of his mouth. Cordelia’s mother suddenly had him thinking thoughts he never imagined were possible— until Cordy’s little slip at the table about being his mate gave him a smidgeon of hope that she might want the same thing.

Her fury and embarrassment over Emelia’s plan seemed to crush that hope quickly enough. “I’m not sure you’ll want me to comment on this one, Cor.”

Hazel eyes blazed at his refusal to tell her mother she was certifiable. “Grmph! This is ridiculous. Hello! I’m seventeen. Not in a hurry here.”

Emelia rolled her eyes. “Cordelia, from what I understand, you two are already in a permanent relationship. Considering what Angelus told us about the ties binding you to the Order of Aurelius and your obvious—um—intimacy, it never occurred to me to believe you might want time to shop around for other options.”

Feeling the weight of Angel’s stare on her, Cordelia couldn’t believe that her mother was barging right into the middle of this. It was so not any of her mom’s business. Just look at what she was saying— other options.

“I-I— I don’t!”

Her mother didn’t let her say anything more, just nodded in satisfaction before she commented, “You’re mature for your age, which I suppose is my fault for forcing you into being responsible for yourself. You’ll be eighteen in May. Your boyfriend is— not exactly a boy.”

For a second, Cordelia thought Angel was blushing as her mother’s eyes raked over him. Not possible. Vampires didn’t blush.

“Why wait?” Emelia continued on, “It only makes sense that you let the non-vampire half of the family celebrate a little.”

“I won’t be railroaded into this by either one of you,” Cordelia returned determinedly. She was just getting used to the idea of Angel and the ties that bound them together as lovers.

Accepting the fact that they belonged to each other as mates came across easily in sharp contrast to this wild idea. Even with Angelus, she had never really considered such a thing and neither had he. The human ritual of marriage was so far removed from what the formerly-evil vampire believed in that Cordelia doubted the thought ever crossed his mind.

With Angel, she could see a spark of interest in his soulful eyes. The idea had some appeal for him even if he remained silent on the subject. He was too busy getting lost in his own thoughts to notice her rising panic.

Flashing a smile, Emelia shared an indulgent look with Angel instantly reminding him of a certain brunette. “Just think about it, darling,” she urged Cordelia while picking up the stack of dessert plates to carry into the dining room. “Besides, I’ve already invited your friends to the party next month.”

Once Emelia had disappeared, Angel finally let out the laughter he’d been holding back. “God help me, but your mother is just like you. I bet she always gets what she wants.”

“Laugh it up, Dorkula!” Cordelia grumbled using one of her less flattering nicknames for the vampire that signaled her irritation with the subject. “How are we gonna get out of this?”

After a short pause, Angel answered seriously, “Maybe we shouldn’t.”

“It’s ridi—WHAT?”

“You heard me.”

Cordelia turned ten shades of red. Spluttering, “That’s— I’ve never heard anything so— dammit, Angel, she’s not planning a little soiree. The wedding bells are already chiming in my mother’s head. Get it?”

Oh, he got it. Emelia Chase was nothing if not forthcoming.

Then Cordelia pointed out, “Marriage is for lovers.”

“We’re lovers,” Angel countered swiftly, finding a lot of appeal in Emelia Chase’s idea despite the fact that he was a vampire.

He had a soul, after all. What was marriage if not a binding of two souls? Was it so awful to want that with Cordelia— forever?

Grabbing for the pumpkin pie, Cordelia knew there was only one way of getting out of this conversation. Escape. No, make that two ways. The second being reminding Angel of the only fact he didn’t want to hear. It came spilling from her mouth before Cordelia’s feet could carry her to the door.

Stopping halfway across the room, Cordelia turned to look him in the eye. “Marriage is for people in love. We don’t qualify.”

Silence settled after the lash of her verbal whip. A sinking feeling came over her as Cordelia met Angel’s gaze realizing that her words just took them two steps back from any forward progress made during the past week. Inwardly, Angel struggled to get hold of his sudden rage, leaving a cold glare in his eyes and a tight expression on his face.

Cordelia only felt the impact of the shock induced by her mother’s plan, Angel’s open interest and her own hurtful response. Fine tremors tingled with an electric charge as her thoughts finally caught up with her mouth.

Bitch, bitch, bitch. Was there any other word that seemed so fitting? Cordelia had to admit that her response was a defensive attack. Her mother’s eager planning quickly backed Cordelia into a corner until the response was instinctual.

First-strike weapons of the verbal kind were her specialty and she could hit a target with bull’s-eye precision. Once deployed, the devastating impact of those weapons was impossible to take back.

Turning back toward the kitchen door, Cordelia knew she’d just made a huge error. Not in thinking her mother’s idea was insane, she determined, but in breaking down any positive strides in her relationship with Angel.

No doubt he would think that her opinion was a betrayal and her words unforgivable. Well, she wasn’t going to let the Scoobies or her parents know that on the inside she was just one big ball of hurt.

The remainder of Thanksgiving Dinner was reigned over by Queen C and neither her parents nor her friends and guests quite knew what hit them. Angel’s open candor and witty charm had disappeared behind a dark cloud of stoicism, but they hardly had time to notice as Cordelia’s banter kept them distracted during the rest of the evening.

Over the following week Cordelia noticed that Angel was doing everything he could to live up or down to his original promise to bind her to him as his mistress. Though she accidentally admitted during dinner that she saw herself as his mate, her response to her mother’s ideas on marriage kept her in that tawdry category.

Fate, disguised as her mother’s ill-timed whim, had given her yet another chance to claim Angel’s heart— and she’d flubbed it. Would it have been so bad to accept the fact that they were meant to be together? That there was something more than just hot, wild, mind-bogglingly delicious sex between them?

Not that I think it’s true. , Cordelia grumbled silently as she toyed with the bedcovers. Not at all. Mind made up there. Really. Love— that just hurts.

The surrounding darkness seemed to have a thousand hidden eyes staring back at her with doubt. Pfft! Who’re you trying to convince?

Physically there was no issue. Vamp nibbles and all. Cordelia now knew what Angelus had been missing out on during their time together thanks to the Moirae’s mystical restraints. Tasting her blood brought another level of pleasure for Angel, something primal and passionate. No complaints on her part as long as there were no lasting scars. The mark on her neck obviously wasn’t going away, especially considering that her throat seemed to be Angel’s favorite spot. The intimacy of it amazed her, not to mention the added zing the added penetration gave.

So the sex— that was great. Even when Angel decided to test her limits and her willingness to play along with the arrangement of their relationship by ignoring all propriety. Not that such a thing had ever been a key factor in Cordelia’s mind when it came to her vampire. Though somehow, her sexy stint with Angelus in the movie theater somehow seemed boringly safe.

Not that Cordelia could deny she enjoyed the thrill of danger. It was the getting caught that wasn’t quite as orgasmic. And it wasn’t as if she hadn’t gotten touchy-feely with Angelus in public places like the Bronze. Only now it just seemed a little forbidden and it didn’t always stop.

It was as if he couldn’t get enough of her. Sometimes she would just look at him and that’s all it would take.

But it’s not just the sex, Cordelia told herself while hugging Angel’s pillow to her chest. Not just the fact that he makes love to me anytime and anywhere the urge seems to take him. That’s actually kinda thrilling.

Cordelia’s heart thumped at the mere thought of his touch. Except that now he’s sometimes picky about letting me touch him.

It was as if she didn’t have equal rights where he was concerned— or if he suddenly found it impossible to give her the same freedom she enjoyed with Angelus. Cordelia figured that was part of the deal.

“A part that sucks, mind you,” she voiced to the shadows.

Touching him…she couldn’t help it. There was a constant need to be in his personal bubble, something she used to harp at him about when he tried to get too close. It just happened and it hurt whenever he pulled away or told her no.

Lately, it’s as if she didn’t know quite what to expect from Angel. He was the same, yet different with moments where he would remind her of them. Since their little ‘talk’ about love and commitment, he seemed bent upon evoking all kinds of emotions in the people around him. Most of them negative.

Buffy confronted her at school earlier in the week.

“That vampire is giving me the wiggins,” Buffy shuddered visibly. She had taken to calling him ‘That Vampire’ rather than using his name just to distance herself a little. “Giles makes me patrol with him just to keep an eye on his behavior. You know what the Moirae said— he has the potential for Good or Evil in him and lately he’s acting like the Big Bad Wolf.”

“Maybe it’s just you, Red Riding Hood,” Cordelia swiftly defended him. “Angel seems more sensitive to the fact that you’re the Slayer. Maybe you just bring out the fight in him.”

Buffy reacted with an instant rebuttal, “It’s not like you’re there, Cor. When was the last time you went on patrol?”

Closing her locker rather forcefully, Cordelia snapped, “That’s not my choice. Angel won’t let me.”

“Since when did that ever stop you?” The question actually hit home as Cordelia took in Buffy’s cross-armed stance. “Angel is prowling around Sunnydale stalking the bad guys like he’s on a mission.”

“Hello! Champion.” Maybe Buffy was the Chosen One with a stodgy old mission as a Vampire Slayer, but that didn’t give her exclusive rights to the Hellmouth. Did it? “He may not know what his mission is yet, but he has one. The Moirae didn’t wake up one morning and decide— hey, let’s screw with that vampire— he’ll make a great lapdog for the Slayer.”

Buffy’s eyes narrowed as she tried to reel in the familiar urge to strangle Cordelia. It was a fortunate thing that the halls were deserted.

Apparently, Cordelia wasn’t done with her little rant because she kept on going, “I guess they did screw with him— metaphorically speaking— even if it looked a whole helluva lot more literal than that.” Thinking about what Klotho revealed to them all, Cordelia mumbled, “Skanky ho.”

“Excuse me?” Buffy caught the last bit an thought the brunette was talking about her.

“Not you!” Rolling her eyes, Cordelia wondered if the Slayer ever considered the fact that not everything was about her. “The bimbo in charge of birthing destiny. Y’know, the slutty tour guide of Angel’s past.”

“Oh, her.” A scowl appeared on Buffy’s face at the memory. She was not too happy about Cordelia inferring that her relationship with Angel had been about leading him around on a leash. “What’s your point?”

“That the Moirae have plans for Angel,” Cordelia told her. “He’s not in Sunnydale just to answer to you.”

Riled up by the cheerleader’s words, Buffy decided she’d heard enough. “Would you just listen to me for a second? Angel is getting dangerous again.”

That caught Cordelia’s attention immediately. No matter that Buffy had the ability to irritate her, they had never lied to each other. Thoughts of psycho-Angel came to mind as she asked for clarification, “Dangerous?”

“He’s enjoying patrol a little too much,” Buffy revealed. “He lets his demon out all of the time. There is no hiding either the vamp face or his killer instincts. He fights with a blind passion that scares me.”

Concern filled her voice as she added, “It’s as if he’s got nothing to lose.”

Now sitting in her bedroom in the dark, she realized that Buffy was just trying to be a friend. To both of them. “Good going, Cor.”

Even if let out his most savage urges on patrol, Cordelia hadn’t seen it. Though he often let out that dominant streak in bed, there were times he forgot to play the part of the stern, in-control lover and simply interacted with her on a personal level that always drew them closer. Except for the change of pace around the Thanksgiving Day preparations, Cordelia and Angel spent most of their time together at home— in bed.

If there was something to worry about, Cordelia hadn’t been there to see it. Knowing that caused her stomach to twist into a sick knot. Was there really a danger that he could leave the Good Fight behind? Would it be her fault as the Moirae suggested her influence would be the key to which path he followed?

“Buddy, when you get home, we’re gonna have a longgggg talk about—,” Cordelia’s head turned in the direction of the ajar bedroom door as she heard noises below.

The heavy front door opened and closed. Realizing that Angel was home and while still reeling from the nightmare, she threw aside the covers and darted barefoot for the stairs. After thinking about her conversation with Buffy and the aftereffects of the dream in which Angel played a part, she wanted to assure that the vampire was still in one piece coming back from tonight’s long patrol.

By the time Cordelia reached the second floor landing, Angel had only made it to the bottom of the steps. His slow pace came with a limp and a wince as he moved along drawing her concern like a moth to a flame. Descending the stairs, dressed only in her short coral nightgown having left her robe and slippers behind, Cordelia caught his attention, demanding to know, “What happened, Angel?”

She was beside him in a flash, her hands brushing over the dark signs of bruising along his jaw and pulling away the lapels of his coat to reveal the crusting blood on his shirt. The look of horror on her face made her thoughts apparent.

“It’s nothing.” Angel took her by the shoulders and put her at arms length. Not that she stayed there.

“Pfft!” Cordelia glared at him while moving back into his personal space. “You look like someone has been playing Tic Tac Toe on your chest with sharp objects.”

Her trembling fingers were at the buttons on his shirt before Angel could begin to explain about the beast he found and fought to the death. No Slayer in sight. Angel knew for a fact that she was home, but not alone.

While the fact that Xander was up there in her bedroom gave him a few mixed feelings, strangely enough he felt the same sort of satisfaction Cordelia had crowed about after seating Rupert and Joyce together at Thanksgiving dinner. Wondering whether Xander had found the guts to make a move or if the Slayer had finally seen the light, he decided against issuing an invitation to patrol.

Truthfully, Angel liked it better this way. He didn’t have to listen to the Slayer as she whined about him being too violent or not letting her take the lead in a fight the way he used to do. Maybe his tactics had changed a bit since the reconstitution of his two personalities. His instincts were as sharp as ever and Angel wasn’t about to shy away from a little violence when it came to tracking down a lead.

“I’m fine, Cordelia,” he assured her once again moving her aside. “After a shower, I will probably feel a lot better.”

“Some demon got his claws into you and you think a shower will fix it?” Cordelia was following him up the stairs barely resisting the urge to undress him on the way up. If his chest looked this way, she wondered what other injuries he’d acquired.

They argued the rest of the way up the stairs. She helped him out of his clothes and into the shower despite all protestations that came her way. While he was in there she ran back down to the first floor kitchen to fix him two mugs of blood knowing that Angel looked even more pale than usual. He was still in the shower letting the hot water pelt his sore muscles when Cordelia returned.

“Don’t stay in there forever,” she warned him that coming in just to check on him wasn’t out of the question. “I need to see what that demon did to you.”

Tending to Angelus— and to a minor extent Angel— after their patrols together had significantly diminished the Eew Factor when it came to fussing over injuries. It was something she hadn’t really done for her new mate. Not because he never had an injury, but because it never occurred to her that she cared enough to personally assure herself that he would be okay.

~*~

That afternoon she was home from school as fast as her shiny red Corvette would take her. Fortunately, the Sunnydale traffic police were otherwise occupied having pulled over a random speeder as Cordelia zipped past on her way to Crawford Street.

Though the mansion was quiet, Cordelia instinctively sought Angel out upon her arrival, finding him in the living room with his feet propped up on the coffee table while reading a book. Either he ignored her approach or he was so into the book that he didn’t hear her soft footsteps.

For a few moments, Cordelia paused her forward motion long enough to stare openly at his handsome profile. She did so until the urge to touch him interfered and drove her forward again.

“Hello, Cordelia,” Angel startled her just before her hand reached out to touch his shoulder. “What happened to cheerleading practice? I didn’t expect you for hours.”

“Oh, that. Pfft! I blew it off,” she told him like it was nothing. Head cheerleaders did not blow off practice for the heck of it. She had responsibilities— right here. “How’s the demon game-board doing?”

Cordelia tried to sound casual about inquiring over his injuries when she was really thinking about ripping open his shirt to check them out herself. She sauntered over to his side of the couch taking a seat on the coffee table so that she faced him.

“Healing,” Angel answered truthfully. “Hardly noticeable now.”

“Let me see.” She was halfway to a standing position when he barked, “It’s fine.”

Jerking her hand back, Cordelia sat back down and reminded herself that she never had that little chat with Angel. His injuries had taken priority over arguing about the fact that he wouldn’t let her patrol with him and she was too concerned and too tired to bring up Buffy’s observations.

Angel looked a little sorry for snapping at her. “How was school today?”

Raising an eyebrow, Cordelia noted the attempt at safe conversation. Okay, buddy, I can play along with that.

“The usual,” she sighed and told him about her classes. Not that she’d paid too much attention today. Thoughts of Angel had distracted her all day long. “I think lunch was the most exciting part. Jonathan and Xander started a food fight and Harmony ended up covered in spaghetti.”

“I’m sure Snyder loved that one.”

Nodding, Cordelia explained, “Oh, he did. I’ve never seen anyone cackle that way over tomato-stained designer-wear. Poor Harm! That dress was an original. Then he hauled Xander and Jonathan off to his office. Major detention, I’m guessing.”

“Just when I start thinking of Xander as acting more mature than he used to be,” Angel grinned, “he does something to prove me wrong.”

Cordelia smiled in response, “That’s Xander Harris for you. It just comes naturally.”
Then changing the subject, she asked, “So have you been recuperating all day? What are you reading?”

Angelus preferred real life activities or television to books— unless he was using Lord Byron’s poems to seduce her. His brother was more into dark, angsty turn-of-the-previous-century novels or the latest demonology book Giles had procured. So when Angel held up the book for her perusal, Cordelia was genuinely surprised to find that he was reading the latest John Grisham thriller.

A hasty explanation followed, “Your mother recommended it.”

“You’ve been talking to my mother?” Cordelia asked with a feeling of dread.

With a shrug, Angel admitted, “Once or twice.”

More plotting, Cordelia realized ruefully. Sheesh! Would that woman never give up? Just because she gave birth to her and now felt she needed to make up for ignoring her for the past few years did not give her the right to interfere with her relationship with Angel.

“How nice,” Cordelia flashed a false grin. She was seriously going to have to have a talk with her mother. Not now though. Her knee brushed Angel’s and the contact was enough to wipe away any trace of irritation and leave her body humming at Angel’s closeness. “I tried to phone you during my free period.”

Her fingers, itching to touch him, finally found their way to his knee where one of them moved in a little spiral pattern that crept higher up his leg.

The move did not go unnoticed, but Angel chose not to respond to it. Instead, he commented about her attempted call, “I didn’t hear it. I spent most of the day in the basement. Training. Then I took a shower and came down here to read.”

Finding the opening she’d been looking for, Cordelia jumped on the chance to ask him about training her. “I want to patrol with you.”

“No, it’s too dangerous.”

“Let me rephrase,” Cordelia set her jaw determinedly. “I’m going to patrol with you. Train me up if that will make you feel better, but I’m going one way or the other.”

Angel tossed his book aside, leaning forward so that there were only inches between them. “Do we have to revisit the discussion about chaining you to the bed?”

“We can,” Cordelia considered with a grin, “but it won’t make a bit of difference. I can make sure Buffy and Giles know I plan to go and they’ll make sure I’m there to keep your ass in line.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” growled Angel standing up and stalking over to the fish tank where he startled the small school of colorful bettas that darted to the other side of the aquarium.

Rising to her feet, Cordelia turned, standing with her hands on her hips. “Take a wild guess, Rambo.”

“Has Rupert been giving you that song and dance about the Moirae?” Angel would have to have a word with the Watcher about causing Cordelia to worry for no reason.

“No. It was Buffy telling me straight up that you’ve been taking risks and behaving like—”

Angel whirled around to face her, “A vampire?”

“Don’t you dare pull that one on me,” she stormed up to him.

“Does the truth bother you?”

“Not that truth, you dumbass!” Cordelia snapped now standing only inches away. “I do have a problem with you trying to play superhero. You may be a champion, but you’re not invulnerable— just stupid, apparently.”

He took the smallest step forward crowding into what was left of the space between them. “Stupid.”

“As a doorknob,” Cordelia could care less if her metaphors were mixed up. It got the point across. “What are you trying to do out there? Get yourself killed?”

“It’s not as if you really care, sweetheart.” His words were the antithesis of only a few days ago. How quickly their relationship returned to rocky waters after sailing through a brief calm. Now, the tension between them was a palpable force until it exploded, “I’m little more than your favorite fuck toy.”

Cordelia felt as if he’d slapped her across the face. Did he really think that? Duh! He meant it enough to say it. She glared at him in silence until it became too much to bear. Then arching one slim eyebrow, she clipped coldly, “WHAT?”

“Convenient, aren’t I? Someone to give you pleasure day and night. To keep it up as long as you want it.” Angel’s face was full of fury and he let her have it without any hint of regret. It infuriated him that he found himself comparing his relationship with Cordelia to his failed romance with Buffy.

Hell, even his bitter accusation sounded familiar. “Forget the fact that I love you, Cordelia. What use does a vampire have for feelings if his own mate can’t open up her heart enough to let him in?”

Angel’s words slammed into her like a battering ram. For all intents and purposes, he had just called her an unfeeling bitch who used him for sex. It hurt to hear it, but his utter belief in what he’d said incensed her even more. Now Angel was gearing up for more as he towered above her, those dark eyes boring into hers.

Although Cordelia had the urge to curl her hand into a fist to show the vampire just how insane she thought that accusation really was, she couldn’t follow through with it. There were tears burning at her eyes and she’d be damned before she’d let them fall in front of him.

“Don’t you ever touch me again,” she snapped with an audible tremor.

With a look that conveyed hurt and anger, Cordelia darted out of the living room and took the stairs two at a time. She had no idea the amount of control it took for Angel to let her go. His hands were balled tightly at his sides, his unneeded breath heaving in harsh reaction to the instinctive urge to stop her escape. To snatch her back into his arms.

Finding herself in the bedroom, Cordelia looked around for something— anything— that would take her mind off of what Angel had just said to her. The open bathroom door provided her only solace. She slammed it shut behind her just as Angel’s voice sounded in the hallway calling out her name.

“Cordelia?” He was on the other side of the bathroom door now, knocking gently. He had been unable to resist the urge to follow her and make amends.

I treat him like a— like a—, Cordelia couldn’t believe he actually said that to her. “Go away, you bastard!”

Angel let out a frustrated growl. Apologies were not something he had very much experience with. “Baby, I’m sorry if I made it sound like—”

“Like I was a major slutbag?” Cordelia grumped loudly. “Maybe Santa will bring me a little something for Christmas and I won’t have to bother you anymore!”

That caused Angel to pause in thought. He attempted a joke, “I’m not sure Santa’s elves make those kinds of toys.”

Biting down on her lip, Cordelia refused to laugh even if some part of her rebelled against her own anger and found it funny. Laughing was out of the question right now. She wasn’t gonna do it. “Go away.”

“Cor...de...lia!”

Just pull out all the stops, why dontcha? That tone always went with the puppy dog eyes. She could feel the weight of that stare despite the inch and a half of wood separating them.

It was unfair that her manpire knew exactly what strings to pull to create a physical reaction. Only this time he managed to do something that only her nightmares had wrought, Cordelia realized as she felt the hot tears blurring her vision. He’d made her cry.

“I said…GO AWAY!” She yelled through the barrier as she turned the tap on full force letting the splashing of the filling bathtub drown out her intermittent sobs.
Cordelia pressed her forehead against the door, one hand lifted to its flat surface as if trying to feel Angel’s presence on the other side. She waited for his next attempt to get her to open up to him-- literally with the door and figuratively with her heart—wondering what her response would be even as her fingers drifted toward the lock.

Was he so blind that he thought she didn’t care?

Pfft! I care. Even in her own mind that thought sounded as a whisper.

“Angel?” His name sounded as a soft query on her lips. The quiet that answered was deafening.

She’d told him to go away. Maybe he’d done it, Cordelia suddenly thought. Then she recalled her nightmares again where he disappeared into the darkness. Where he left her alone— lost in the mist. “Angel?”

Throwing open the door, Cordelia found Angel standing immediately on the other side. Poker face firmly in place, there was no hint of emotion crossing his face in the first moments until his eye caught the trail of a single tear as it glistened on her cheek. In the next second, two muscular arms pulled her into an embrace that defied their strength holding her like a porcelain doll that might break if he squeezed too tight.

Pressing a kiss into her silken hair, Angel closed his eyes and begged for forgiveness. “I didn’t mean it.”

Cordelia wrapped her arms around his waist and rubbed her cheek against his chest. “Yes you did.”

“Not the way it sounded,” Angel admitted. His voice sounded thick with emotion, “I just want you to feel the same way I do. I’m jealous of my own memories, Cordelia. How more screwed up can we get! Knowing your love— I want that back.”

Tears soaked his shirt beneath her cheek. He’d said it before and she’d told him that love wasn’t like a light switch. Promising, “I’m trying, Angel.”

Separating her from their embrace, Angel cupped her face and brushed his thumb over the path her tears had taken. She was trying, but he wondered just how long that would be enough. “Your bath is about to run over.”

Cordelia gasped and moved away long enough to turn off the taps. Bubbles mounded up above the rim of the tub. Upon whirling back around again, she found that Angel had already moved off into the bedroom with the obvious intent of going downstairs.

He paused at the door for a moment as if expecting her to call out and plead for him to stay. As if he knew the words were already forming on her lips. Clamping them shut, Cordelia pressed her lips into a tight line knowing that asking him to remain would be an invitation to trouble.

Staying meant sharing her bubble bath. It meant getting naked together. Ending this argument with skin to skin contact would only serve to prove his point. Even if Angel was damn good at wielding a loofah.

~*~

“ANGEL!” Cordelia’s scream startled the vampire out of the dream that wrapped him up in its warm embrace. Images of his beautiful mate on constant re-run in his head made for restful sleep despite their argument hours earlier.

Only it appeared that Cordelia wasn’t caught up in such blissful dreaming, but the throws of another nightmare. Awakening instantly, Angel reached for her pulling her into the safe comfort of his arms. Rocking her against him, “Shh! Sweetheart, you’re okay. I’m here. Tell me.”

Clinging to him like a lifeline, Cordelia finally realized where she was and whose arms she was in. “Angel. Oh, God! It was there— reaching out for me. It whispered things. It wanted—”

“You’re safe. It was just a nightmare.” Angel tried not to look scared at the terror on her face. He hated seeing Cordelia this way. A nightmare wasn’t something he could fight and destroy. All he could do was try to provide a little comfort and attempt not to feel helpless while doing it.

“Stupid dream,” she mumbled against his chest. With a groan, adding, “What time is it? I have school this morning.”

Glancing at the clock, Angel answered, “Two seventeen. Way too early. Try to sleep.”

“Can’t,” Cordelia told him. She remembered more this time.

The fear and confusion was there. So too the sense of loneliness and despair that settled into her system as she walked through the dreamscape. She’d connected that to Angel, but didn’t know why. Those things had no part in their relationship. At least not until their argument today and the hours she’d spent alone thinking about it and wondering if he was coming back.

Finding him here melted some of her tension away. Cordelia couldn’t completely relax because the nightmare still echoed its secrets. There was more than just fear. There was a reason for it. Some danger that she could not name. Palpable danger. A sense that they were not alone. Something watched her from the depths of the mist shrouding her destination; it whispered to her in tones beyond her understanding.

Whether it followed her or it lay ahead, Cordelia could not tell, but she found herself telling Angel, “I’m trying to get to somewhere. Only I can’t. Something is blocking my way.”

“What is it?” Concern and curiosity suffused his hushed tones. They settled around her like a warm blanket and encouraged her to continue.

“It’s storming,” Cordelia told him with a concentrated frown, “and there is lightning everywhere, but I’m not afraid of the storm. For some reason it comforts me. The lightning is the only thing that saves me from the darkness.”

As she tried to recall the details of the dream even as it faded from her conscious mind, the only thing left that she recognized was Angel’s face.

“I saw you,” Cordelia snuggled closer into his embrace holding onto him, hating the fact that she was quaking in fear. “It was your face staring out at me from the mist. Then you were gone.”

Dread multiplied exponentially at the thought that he was a part of her nightmare. It meant something and Angel knew that he didn’t like what that implied.

Cordelia sighed deeply against his chest as his fingers threaded through the chestnut waves of her hair. “Why, Angel? Why does this keep happening?”

“I don’t know.” Honesty was his only answer.

Cloaked by darkness and silence, Angel held her until Cordelia fell asleep. She drifted off much faster than he figured. Although he released her from the enclosure of his arms when her breathing became slow and rhythmic, the vampire continued to lay awake watching her through the night.

~*~

The clock-radio alarmed and Cordelia protested the cheerful music that awakened her. Alert, she opened her eyes to find Angel staring down at her from a side-lying position next to her on the bed. So close, but not touching like usual. Most mornings their entwined bodies fit together like a tangled vines.

This was also when she usually got her first kiss of the day. Normally, Angel would be kissing her awake even before she could recognize the song that played on the radio. Her mouth felt strangely lonely as her gaze focused on his.

Vaguely, Cordelia recalled her nightmare and the fact that Angel was beside her when the screaming started. She had no idea when he came to bed. After her bubble bath, she’d gone downstairs only to find the house deserted. Angel had gone out on one of his daytime jaunts through the Sunnydale sewer tunnels.

While it irked her to be at home brooding about their argument when Angel was off having a rip-roaring time with whatever demon was unlucky enough to get in his way, Cordelia had spent the rest of the evening thinking about what he’d said to her. Defending herself only went so far when even she found a grain of truth in it.

Maybe it hurt to have a constant physical reminder of Angelus, but the thought of Angel not being there at all hurt more. Was she using him? Not purposefully. She did not want that. She felt— something. Even if it was something that she could not name.

So Angel thought she was using him for sex? Not like it was all her idea. Not like he didn’t enjoy it.

Pfft! New motto, Cordelia. Just say NO. See how my favorite Vamp Toy likes that.

Staring at the temptation of his firm male mouth, Cordelia had doubts about that plan of action. Could she really resist her growing addiction to Angel’s touch? Inching closer, she leaned in to claim the kiss only to stop before bridging the gap between them.

Seeing the hesitation, Angel wondered if it resulted from yesterday’s argument or if Cordelia was simply trying to entice him. Possibly both. Did she have any idea what a temptress she was? Like Odysseus responding to the sirens’ call, he risked being dashed upon the rocks every time he touched her.

Loving her and wanting her went hand in hand. Resisting the urge to take what he wanted had been impossible and he’d pushed Cordelia to the point of daring him to do it. She was just as obsessed with his touch as he was with hers. Just as powerless to ignore the frenzied lust that rose up between them.

The only difference was that Angel knew he loved her. What Cordelia actually felt for him was anyone’s guess.

So he’d fucked up by yelling at her yesterday. Then made it worse by trying to take back what they both knew lay too close to the truth. At least he’d resisted the urge to follow her into that bathroom. There was zero chance of escaping once inside. Angel knew precisely what would have happened.

They’d have been naked, covered in bubbles and any actual bathing would’ve been minimal.

So he’d left. Just to prove to himself that he could walk away. But the downstairs living room wasn’t far enough, he found. Angel grabbed his leather jacket and an axe heading down into the tunnels looking for a fight. Clearing out the nest of a three-headed Gora demon and destroying the creature, he found a few other unlucky beasts along the way.

Finally, Angel’s self-directed anger diminished. He headed home finding Cordelia curled into a ball in the middle of their bed fast asleep. After showering and dragging on a pair of boxers, something he never wore to sleep in, Angel climbed into bed. Cordelia instinctively turned in her sleep curling up against him.

Despite all the angst and brooding of the night, Angel had pleasant dreams until Cordelia awakened screaming his name. Guilt tore him up inside. These nightmares, especially this one coming after their argument, had to be his fault.

Was it any wonder that she screamed in her sleep? He’d accused his own mate of using him for her convenience even though he had been the one on the receiving end of her discarded inhibitions. Whose fault was that? Not like he hadn’t encouraged it. Not like he hadn’t enjoyed every second in her arms buried deep inside her.

He wanted that fiery sensual response. Only he wanted it with her heart in her eyes. Angel knew it and felt the crush of feeling that weighted his chest. He was so fucking addicted to her. It ripped him apart to know that she didn’t love him the way that she loved Angelus. Not even the way she loved Angel whose friendship was key to everything.

Was it just his body that did it for her? Angel didn’t think so. She knew the difference between them. Always had. Still, it dredged up that familiar wave of jealousy and possessiveness.

Maybe he’d pushed things too fast— gone after what he wanted and settled for a physical relationship assuming Cordelia’s heart would jump on board— instead of waiting as the Watcher suggested. He never gave her the time she asked for, the time to know him as an individual. Now they were caught up in this cycle of need that demanded fulfillment, but left him wanting more.

Too damn much of a good thing, Angel figured ruefully as he stared down at the curve of Cordelia’s parted lips.

What they needed was a little distance. That thought stung like a fist full of barbed wire, but it was the only thing Angel could think to do to fix this. A little distance and a little less of the marathon sex where he did everything but climb inside her heart and soul to reach her. A little distance, less sex and a little more of— more of what?

Angel wasn’t certain what it would take, only that this needed to start here and now.

Then those rosy, sleep-swollen lips formed a husky-voiced greeting, “Good morning, Angel.”

A mocking smile lifted the corners of Angel’s mouth as she spoke, one that was self-directed and completely subconscious. Not that Cordelia realized the direction of his thoughts or that her simple words translated into something blatantly tempting.

Misinterpreting the look on Angel’s face, Cordelia sucked in the tiniest gasp of air and flipped over to sit on the side of the bed tossing the covers aside in the same move. Her legs dangled over the side as she stared at the floor trying to get it together, her feelings contrary and confusing.

No kiss? Well— good. She wouldn’t make a fool of herself that way. Relief at that prospect was welcome. Only the respite left her feeling bereft. Lost without his touch. Their little morning ritual went beyond the familiar; it meant something even she couldn’t deny to herself.

Cordelia craved that morning kiss. Hadn’t he already proved that he wanted it just as much as she did?

Stepping off of the bed, she stood for a moment to stretch out the tension, shaking out her long mane of hair like a skittish mare at the approach of a stallion. She froze upon hearing the bedcovers rustle behind her and found that it was already too late to make any attempt at an escape to the bathroom.

In a fleeting touch, the back of his fingers trailed over her arm. That was all it took to break down any resolve. Whirling around, Cordelia caught a glimpse of the hunger in those chocolate brown eyes just before their arms wrapped around each other, their bodies closed in and the world disappeared.

~*~

“Angel,” sounded Rupert Giles’ surprised voice. “Another midday visit. Let me guess. You want to see Cordelia.”

The vampire could hardly fault him for the thread of sarcasm creeping into his British accent. “Actually, I’m here to see you.”

“Me?”

“What do you know about recurring dreams?” asked Angel getting down to business. “Nightmares, actually.”

“You’re having recurring nightmares?” Giles could only imagine the endless fodder that Angel’s past might provide in dredging up old memories.

Shaking his head, Angel walked closer to the counter where the Watcher had been processing returned library books. “It’s Cordelia.”

“Cordelia?” Giles instantly put down the book he held and started to pay attention. “Oh, dear.”

“What’s that mean?”

Giles rubbed the back of his neck and let out a long sigh. “I was worried about this. Not nightmares, precisely, but something.”

Angel didn’t like being in the dark when it came to Cordelia. “Worried about what?”

“Stress,” he explained. “Cordelia has been under inordinate stress of late and now it is obviously showing.”

“So these nightmares are my fault,” Angel’s expression darkened.

Attempting to provide a bit of consolation, “Not directly. It’s not as if you planned for her to lose sleep. Though the dealings with the Moirae, the loss of her mate Angelus and also Angel, along with learning to adjust to a relationship with you must have taken a toll that her subconscious mind is now trying to deal with.”

“My fault,” repeated Angel as he glowered with guilt. Then another thought occurred to him. “Unless this isn’t about me at all. It may be my name she’s calling out in the night, but the face in her dreams— it could be Angelus.”

Giles was flying blind on this one, but the suggestion made sense to him. “Cordelia is still experiencing a sense of loss.”

That didn’t help him in the guilt department nor in figuring out a solution. He would have preferred Giles to determine that it was a nightmare-inducing demon. At least he could fight that.

“What can I do?”

He didn’t like it in the least when Giles answered, “Nothing. Nothing except giving her a little space.”

So the Watcher had come to the same conclusion, except that Giles went on to point out, “The kind of behavior you’ve been up to recently— right here for example— is certainly inappropriate.”

Angel had the feeling it would be a long, cold day in hell before Giles forgave him for tainting his sanctum sanctorum. Just one more black mark to rack up on the list of his unforgivable actions. Leaving, the vampire made his way back to the mansion through the tunnels crisscrossing Sunnydale, his thoughts focused on Giles’ theory about the nightmares.

I need to back off for a while, Angel concluded, even though the thought of touching Cordelia any less seems impossible.

Hell, he certainly hadn’t maintained his infamous control this morning. Sometime between the first smoldering touch of her warm lips under his and the moment he let her up for a breath of air, they had migrated back to the bed.

Cordelia’s silken hair was spread across the mattress and its askew covers, her arms and legs locked around him. One bared breast filled his roving hand while his cock, granite hard and straining against the thin barrier of his boxers, pressed up against the moist cleft of heat that called to him like a silent siren song.

Pressing their foreheads together, they breathed in harsh pants, both trying to gain a semblance of control. Both painfully aware of the impact of their words last night and what going any further might mean. That’s when Cordelia cupped his face in both hands, her thumbs lightly grazing his cheekbones as she voiced the one thing that brought reality back into sharp focus.

“School.”

As Angel watched the natural sway of her hips beneath the short nightgown as she moved into the bathroom to get ready for the day ahead, he recognized the strength she exuded. Stubborn determination, maybe. Control. The same inner force she used in holding back her emotions.

The demon in him raged at its own weak comparison. Where the hell was his own sense of control when it came to her? Non-existent. That part of him wanted to haul her back to bed and keep her there until she admitted to feeling something for him— anything.

Tamping down that rash idea, Angel knew the answer was to be found somewhere else. Not in tying her to him physically, but in opening up to her in ways that he was not certain he had in him. Maybe then, he could find a way to reach her.

Angel growled at the idea of making himself so vulnerable, but he’d already done that in declaring his love to her. What the hell would it take? He had no fucking clue where to begin.

~Part: 47~
 

After double-checking her watch, Willow opened the door to the girl’s bathroom and entered with a casual stride. At least she hoped it looked casual instead of contrived. If Cordelia found out that she’d been checking up on her there would be no end to hearing about it.

Willow already had enough of the minion accusations, though she had to marvel at the fact that once again she’d been called in to help clean up the mess. Technically, she supposed this was Cordy’s first fight with her new mate. The one with Angelus and Angel really didn’t count except as a memory.

While this one didn’t have Cordy dressed in leather and covered in whipped cream, a thought that still left Willow with a strange feeling, she had a hunch that it was going to be harder to fix what these two screwed up. As long as this little encounter was sans Cordelia’s Naked Angel Theory, Willow figured she’d make it out okay.

After all, Willow bucked herself up for the idea of confronting Cordelia, I’m a friendly type person and friendly type people look out for their friends. Even when one of those friends picked on a certain someone in kindergarten, elementary school, junior high, and most of Freshman Year.

Then nodding at her own silent assessment of the situation, Willow added, Even when a certain other friend once killed helpless little fishies and that same someone’s favorite teacher after losing his soul, later broke up with her best friend and fell in love with her arch nemesis.

Especially if that whipped creamy nemesis is the very same person who picked on her in kindergarten, elem— well, a friend just has to overlook all of that if the friends belong together and are stubborn or trying to ignore their own feelings or need some advice.

Not that Willow thought herself an expert on vampire-cheerleader relationships. If having an opinion was worth anything, she had plenty of those to dole out.

She could hear Cordelia’s voice inside and since no one had gone in or out in the past few minutes, Willow was curious to find out who the other teenager was talking to. She found her leaning against the countertop staring into the wall-sized mirror as she prattled away…to herself?

Willow didn’t see anyone else in the room. Since there were no Manolo Blahniks showing beneath the stall doors, she figured Harmony and the rest of the crew weren’t bonding over talk of lipstick, hair products or Brad Pitt. Lost in thought, she didn’t catch onto what Cordelia was saying until the brunette caught sight of her in the mirror and whirled to face her.

The trademark megawatt grin instantly appeared. “Willow. Hello there. Looks like you caught me.”

“I did?” Something dangerous? Something Angelus won’t like? Something I won’t like?

“Practicing my lines for drama class,” Cordelia’s grin stretched a little too far.

“Oh,” commented Willow with interest. What other line would Cordy spin?

“Guess that’s enough,” Cordelia laughed. “Already star material. Who needs practice anyway?”

“You don’t have to go!” rushed Willow. How was she supposed to help if Cordelia was running off to wherever?

Cordelia paused on her way out the door. “Why? Need someone to hold your hand while you pee?”

The eye-roll suggested she needed to come up with something quickly or else Cordy would be out of there. Setting her school books down on the countertop, Willow told her, “No. Just here to wash my hands. That’s not against the law. Don’t even need help to do it, either. I just thought we could, y’know, talk.”

Letting the door swing shut again after she had already opened it, Cordelia sent the redhead a hard stare. Since when had she and Willow ever ‘talked’ before? Never! Not unless it had to do with the Scoobies, magick or Angelus and Angel. Narrowing down the possibilities in a matter of seconds, she waited for the witch to reveal the purpose of her mission.

Cordelia’s irritation level increased at a subtle rate during the pause before she walked back toward the sinks and met Willow’s gaze in the mirror. If Willow wanted to play the game, then she better be ready for it.

Taking in a deep breath of courage, Willow talked off the top of her head trying to steer Cordelia into revealing her feelings for the vampire. Ten minutes later, Cordy left the girl’s bathroom with Willow none-the-wiser about Angel and focused entirely on another subject.

Her werewolf boyfriend had suggested Willow not get him anything for Christmas since the Rosenbergs didn’t celebrate it, but she wanted to anyway and had been stumped for ideas. Until Cordelia, shopping expert that she was, rattled off a whole list of suggestions that left her head spinning with the possibilities.

She was really grateful to Cordelia for the advice.

There was a perky smile on Willow’s face for several minutes until she finally realized that Cordelia completely turned her interrogation around. Whining, Willow muttered, “I’ve been bamboozled. Next time, Angelus, you can ask your own stupid questions.”

~*~

Cordelia entered the study to find Angel dropping the cordless phone back into its base. There were two possibilities, she figured. Her mother, who’d taken an interest in making her ‘future son-in-law’ feel like part of the family— a fact that had Cordelia reeling considering the fact that the Chases weren’t exactly family-oriented to begin with— or a certain redheaded do-gooder.

Going with her instincts, Cordelia raised a brow as she walked over to the couch, “Did Willow have anything interesting to report?”

“No,” he answered automatically. “Um…how did you know that was Willow?”

“Wild guess.” The sarcasm in her voice told Angel that the witch had left out a few details of their conversation. Namely that Cordelia knew what she was up to all along. “Do I even have to tell you how much I hate her spying act?”

Cringing inwardly, Angel commented, “It wasn’t spying exactly.”

“Minion duty.”

The description was not complimentary to himself or Willow. “Hey!”

“Pfft! Don’t pretend that it wasn’t your idea. It took me all of three seconds to figure out Willow’s agenda.”

“I’ve been worried about you ever since our…talk.”

Cordelia saw no reason not to call it what it was. Correcting him, “Fight.”

“I thought you might open up t—”

“To Willow?” She had to gape at that one. “Are you delusional?”

“Probably, since I’m deluded enough to love you,” he smiled mockingly.

After staring at her polished fingernails for a few seconds, she lifted her gaze again. The hurt shone in her eyes as she said, “I can’t change my feelings overnight, Angel, but I’m not asking you to stop caring.”

Angel thought that was a given. “You’re becoming my obsession, sweetheart. That’s not something either of us need.”

Frankly, Cordelia wasn’t certain what she wanted. Only that whatever it was that it included him. “I thought I was supposed to be Obsesso-Girl. That it was me lusting after you.”

“It works both ways.”

“Glad you realize it,” her voice altered from its defensive tone. Confusion set in as she asked, “What do we do, Angel? I meant what I said— I’m trying. I even thought we were getting somewhere.”

“We skipped a few steps.” Angel blamed himself for that. He’d pushed her when she wasn’t ready.

Cordelia was still smarting from the impact of his words during their argument. The unflattering comparison to Angel’s doomed relationship with Buffy made her realize just how foolish she’d been. Though it pained her to mention it, Cordelia swallowed down her doubts before suggesting, “Maybe we just need a little space.”

“How much?” Angel asked after moment’s hesitation. He stepped up on his side of the couch so that his knees pressed into the cushions just before making it clear, “You’re not moving out.”

Surprised, she gripped the back of the couch wondering if he thought that was some kind of option. Leaving him hadn’t even occurred to her. “No. We just need some boundaries.”

Taking a glance at the space between them with the couch a solid barrier, Angel saw a little irony in her choice of words. He’d accused Cordelia of having a cage around her heart. What was this suggestion if not another way of crawling behind that shield she’d set up to keep him out? “Aren’t there enough walls built up between us?”

Cordelia felt the stab of those words. “These aren’t walls, Angel. Just rules. A pact between us to make something good come out of this.”

“You think it’s possible?” That mocking twist of his mouth returned.

There was such a look of doom and gloom on his handsome face that Cordelia had another flashback of the days of Buffy and Angel. “I’m not running away from this and I don’t want you pouting in the dark because you don’t get your way.”

As his mouth dropped back into a firm line, Angel had to give Cordelia credit for keeping him guessing. “I don’t pout.”

“No, you just go out and kill everything in sight,” she commented knowingly. Leaning forward with her weight on her hands, Cordelia subconsciously gravitated closer.

Grunting in agreement, he waited for the details of her suggestion. Though taking a step back to reassess their relationship might not be a bad idea, Angel was not at all happy with thoughts of creating any kind of rules that might inadvertently increase the distance between them.

There was too much emotional baggage to sift through and it had already come crashing down on top of them.

“Angelus was more than just my lover and I was more than just a vampire’s mate,” Cordelia reminded him with a sad little smile that barely lifted the corners of her mouth. She knew her words would dredge up those memories because they were the only thing she could think of to make him understand what she needed. “We were friends. I know that he’s a part of you, Angel. That you remember what it was like between us.”

The vampire nodded silently, his hands already buried in his pants pockets hiding his curled up fists.

Cordelia noted the complete lack of movement on Angel’s part. No visible hint of a reaction after that simple nod. “We’d do things together. Fun things. Romantic things. Surprisingly, not all of them ended up with the two of us against a wall or a refrigerator or a tree.”

A hint of a growl sounded in the air.

“Is that all you have to say?” Cordelia was doing her best to open up to him about her relationship with Angelus and all the guy could do was growl? Curling up her fingers in the air like a pair of sharp claws, she parodied his response. “Grr?”

“The truth bites.”

“Yeah,” she had to agree. “It bit me on the ass yesterday. I hated you for a minute. Less than that, no more than a few seconds, really. Until I realized you were right. I’ve been using you.”

Having stalled back on the hating part, Angel reeled at the confession. His thoughts must’ve been showing in his eyes because Cordelia quickly warned him, “Don’t you go all broody on me. You’re not a substitute for anyone if that’s what has you looking so glum.”

What could he say to that except, “I’m not broody.”

“Pfft! Yeah, right,” Cordelia’s patented eye-roll followed. “Pull the other one. Angel, I can’t pretend that I haven’t had a hard time with you being here instead of Angelus. I’d be lying if I said otherwise.”

Angel’s jaw tightened, but he said nothing. It wasn’t news to him.

“I loved him, Angel, and I know that I shouldn’t have to tell you that, but I do because I need you to hear it.” Her eyes pleaded understanding. “Angelus is a part of you and the part of me that recognizes that wants to reach out and never let you go.”

Did they have to rehash this again, Angel wondered. He watched warily as Cordelia skirted the couch, now standing arms reach away. It drew her scent closer to him, that intoxicating mix of cinnamon, sunshine, and woman. He soaked up her presence and her words, silently contemplating both.

Cordelia licked at her lips, watching for a reaction to what she’d said. It bothered him in some way, she gathered from the stoic response. Well, he’d love hearing this. Not. “Making love to y—.”

He broke in with a swift correction, “For you, it’s just sex, Cordelia. Don’t make it out to be something more.”

The crude distinction left a sour taste in Cordelia’s mouth. She found there was no defense against it and could only say, “I want it to be more than that.”

Angel silently cursed himself for not holding back his anger. He couldn’t manage to compartmentalize his feelings anymore. Not about this. Not about her. His fingertips brushed across Cordelia’s cheek as he told her, “I keep saying the wrong things.”

“No, don’t you see? It’s just the truth.” Cordelia admitted as she took a step closer placing her palm on his chest. There was no heartbeat beneath her hand, but she could not doubt the fact that he loved her. For now. “I want to love you, Angel, but—
what if I can’t?”

That question sounded as a whisper, but that thread of doubt remained. Her heart had been so tied up in Angelus until his brother crept his way into her affections. It still came as a shock, thinking that she loved them both. Pulled into Angel’s arms, she curled her arms around his waist, her face pressed up against the muscular wall of his chest.

Was she so fickle that she could give her heart to someone else. Again. So soon? Even if the vampire holding her in his arms was basically another version of the man she loved? It wasn’t that simple. Cordelia wished that it was so easy, but love could not be forced.

“We’ll start again, sweetheart,” Angel answered softly with determination. “As much as it pains me to admit it, maybe your idea about a few ground rules is a good one.”

Taking hold of her shoulders, he stepped back so that he could see her face and felt surprised at the hope and determination that shone in her eyes.

~*~

Now it had been eight days since they made their pact. Eight days of frustration and withdrawal from their habit of working out all of their issues on a physical level. The first night, they had determined Angel would sleep in the second story bedroom, but they hadn’t counted on another nightmare. After that, Angel refused to let her sleep alone.

The actual sleeping wasn’t difficult with their parade ground of a bed. It was actually the waking up that made it difficult to remember they were trying to focus on being something more than just lovers. No matter how close to the edge of the bed they started out, both of them gravitated to the middle and into each other’s arms by the next morning.

They agreed that their morning kiss could remain in place as long as things didn’t get out of hand. Neither of them wanted to miss out on that little ritual of intimacy. Their temporary abstention from everything else was designed to let them focus on the other aspects of their relationship.

Unfortunately, it was as difficult as they both imagined it to be.

“Jesus, Cordelia,” the vampire let out a low moan as her firm buttocks inadvertently brushed across his groin. Angel stood behind her, his hands now grasping her hips to keep them slightly apart. “I told you training wasn’t a very good idea.”

“You’re not getting out of this one,” Cordelia glanced at him over her shoulder. “Not unless you want me to become demon chow one day. I can stick with the Bait Girl act, but I’d prefer to know how to protect myself.”

Angel hated the idea of bringing Cordelia on patrol. Even if she’d been out there on many occasions fighting vampires and demons with the Scooby Gang. Being in love with her made a huge difference in how he assessed situations and reacted to the existing threats.

“I’ll protect you,” he assured her knowing there was no way he would keep her at home barring following through with his threat of tying her to the bed.

He knew she would make a scene about it with Rupert and Buffy just has she had promised, but neither he didn’t want to turn something potentially as fun as using those silk scarves into a situation that might make her hate him for it.

“Hello! You’ll be fighting the Big Bad the next time an apocalypse decides to come to town. I don’t want you so focused on me that you get hurt or…worse, that we all end up sucked into some hell dimension.”

“I’ve done that,” Angel quipped. “Not really wanting to repeat that experience.”

“Good. Now when do I get to play with your sword?” Cordelia asked him eagerly.

Groaning at the turn of phrase, Angel focused on what she really meant to ask, “Letting you play with sharp objects is not on the list for a while. Besides, Cor, it’s practice not playing.”

“Potato, po-tah-to, Angel,” she rolled her eyes. Turning to face him, Cordelia put her hands on her hips to make her case. “Same thing.”

On a number of levels, training Cordelia was as frustrating as it was enlightening and entertaining. She claimed an ability to learn moves after one demonstration thanks to her cheerleading experience and Angel had been impressed to see that she was not exaggerating. Cordelia possessed the balance, flexibility and body awareness of a dancer or athlete which made her introduction to the martial arts an almost innate process.

Angel actually enjoyed the hours they spent here in the basement, although in the back of his mind he could recall making love to her for the first time right there on the thick blue pads on the floor. Those memories made their close proximity during practice sessions hard to bear.

Hard being a word that applied in more than one sense, he thought ruefully.

While keeping his hands from doing things to her that his body was screaming at him to do, Angel tried to maintain a calm veneer. Still, he relished every single touch.

“The day you have me flat on my back during one of these sessions, Cor, we’ll move beyond the basics,” he promised.

Cordelia’s eyes sparkled. “It doesn’t take a drop kick to have you on your back.”

Those deep brown eyes melted into her, but Angel chose not to respond to Cordelia’s automatic sensual tease. That had gotten more common in the past few days. From both of them. The things he’d whispered in her ear at last night’s Scooby meeting certainly had them both distracted from the research.

Only the scrutinizing gaze of Rupert Giles kept Angel from dragging Cordelia off into a dark corner of the library to drown her in kisses.

Hell, at one point he could have cared less about the dark corner. She was his mate. She belonged to him. He had every right in the world to kiss her when and where he pleased and that included doing it right there at the table.

Then reality set in when Xander caught him staring lustfully at Cordelia’s profile and asked, “Need me to get the fire extinguisher?”

Angel had only glared at Xander before moving over to his old spot on the stairs. It put some distance between himself and Cordelia while offering him a better view of her beautiful face at the same time. He didn’t miss the smile that teased at her lips or the sparkle in her eyes as she stole glances at him from across the room.

The knowledge that Cordelia was thinking about what he’d said to her while also obviously enjoying the direction of those thoughts allowed Angel to relax and get down to the business of the evening…demon research.

That teasing glint was back now tempting him into throwing caution to the wind and just taking her the way he wanted. Angel gave himself a moment to enjoy the sexy images that tumbled through his head, but pushed temptation aside. The stakes in this were too high to allow passion to get in the way. They both knew it, settling for this dangerous game of flirtation

The research project had kept them up so late that Cordelia was exhausted by the time they got home to the mansion. Angel was grateful despite his own frustration. Though part of him wanted nothing more than to forget all about their little pact and just continue with his original plan to bind Cordelia to him in the one certain way that he could, Angel wanted more. Cordelia did too, so she said. That was enough to keep him on the straight and narrow.

For now.

While Angel admitted to himself that physical intimacy wasn’t the end all be all of a relationship, it certainly had it’s place. Considering the downfall of his relationship with Buffy and the fact that sex had not only once, but twice ruined what they had together, he figured it should be easy to give it a rest.

While not celibate during his long years of virtual solitude after the curse, he’d never found it difficult to suppress his lust when he wanted too. Until recently, apparently. The difference was having someone you really wanted in your life and being denied her.

He blamed the influence of his demon for the breakup with Buffy. They were natural enemies trying to find a connection that expressed the emotions they’d felt at one time. It didn’t matter that it was just the part of him that was Angel that experienced that failure.

It left a bad taste in Angel’s mouth. No matter how he looked at it, the memories were still his.

Being with Cordelia was an entirely different set of issues. There was no ancient demon-slayer dynamic to blame. There was no single part of himself to point at and accuse of causing trouble.

Not even Angelus. How could he blame him when it was that part of him who won Cordelia’s heart in the first place?

Not Angel. The friendship that had blossomed into something more gave him hope for the same.

Not even Liam whose licentiousness might be the root cause of the lust that welled up between them. He felt certain that it was Liam’s humanity and potential for love that made any of this even possible.

They were all a part of who he was and Angel needed Cordelia to understand that. To love him because of it or in spite of it.

He opened up the curtains and Venetian blinds allowing the moonlight to filter in through the windows. It fell across the bed in soft beams lighting up the smooth surface of Cordelia’s skin caressing the curves of her face as she slept. Angel took his sketchbook and pencils from the nightstand drawer and sitting down in the bedside chair, he sketched her with loving skillful strokes upon the page.

Two hours passed before Angel paused to look back through his sketchbook. He’d drawn Cordelia in a number of poses, not just the position she’d curled into in the bed. A smile played over his mouth at the captured memories, until the sound of her sudden moaning broke his concentration.

Angel’s eyes darted to the bed. Fear. It was so strong that it hung like a cloud in the room. She squirmed against the sheets as if trying to escape something. He was off of the chair within the space of a second, at her side, taking her hand in his while wondering if he should wake her.

A glance at the clock brought a frown to his face. Two seventeen. Could it be just a coincidence? Was it just Cordelia’s normal sleep cycle that caused her nightmares to come to a climax at the same time on any given night? Before he could try to come up with an answer, Cordelia sat up in the bed screaming his name.

Breathing hard, Cordelia found herself caught up in Angel’s arms. His soothing voice sounded in her ear, reassuring her, “I’m here. I’m here.”

“No,” she whispered back while clutching at him. Still feeling like she was trapped in the dreamscape, Cordelia listened to the echo of her own voice. “No, you’re not.”

Cordelia’s nightmares caused Angel as much heartache as they seemed to terrify her during their increasingly frequent occurrences. She remembered more each time the dream came, but seemed to talk about it less. The more Angel heard, the more he felt the Watcher was right. He had to wonder if it was even his name that she was crying out. It could be the other Angel, his other self, just as it could be Angelus she was missing. After all, it was Angelus who was no longer here.

Helpless against it all, Angel could only provide meager comfort and hope that soon the nightmares would fade away.

~Part: 48~
 

“It’s here,” Cordelia stared down at the crisp linen envelope in her hand. Without bothering to open it, she thrust it toward Angel who hoped this wouldn’t lead to a repeat of the scene in the kitchen. “Mother’s formal invitation.”

Opening it, Angel scrutinized the contents and was relieved to see that Emelia had taken his advice and left off the part about celebrating an engagement. The added pressure that put on Cordelia was something neither of them could take right now.

Even though he appreciated the sentiment and found himself embarrassingly fond of the idea of someday seeing Cordelia dressed in a white gown and veil walking down a long aisle toward him, there were complications. Foremost was the fact that he was a vampire. He doubted a holy ceremony or its rituals would do much for the fit of his tuxedo or his complexion seeing as they often turned his kind to dust after bursting them into flames.

Not that the rituals he’d heard about were wedding ceremonies, Angel left himself an opening or two. Besides, those other vampires didn’t have souls.

“Looks like we have some shopping to do,” Angel told her.

Cordelia swallowed down the lump in her throat. Normally, she would be all for the idea. Shopping? Woo-hoo! Considering what her mother planned to announce at the party, she figured the jewelry shop would be their destination. While Cordelia wished that she could take back what she said to Angel on Thanksgiving Day, knowing that her words had hurt him, only she knew the real reason she reacted that way.

She didn’t want the humiliation of a broken engagement when Angel left her.

Only Giles, Buffy and the Scoobies knew about the extent of her relationship with Angel. Harmony and Aura figured it was serious, but had no idea of Angel’s true nature. How could they possibly know what it was like to be claimed by a vampire, to be his mate, to be loved despite your every attempt at avoiding it? Pfft! Clueless, all of them.

“I’ll need a tux,” Angel added when Cordelia simply gnawed on her lower lip.

Snatching the invitation from his hand, Cordelia searched for any sign that there was an underhanded plot involved. Not that she suspected, Angel on this one. Even he wouldn’t be so sneaky. However, she wouldn’t put it past her mother to completely skip the engagement and arrange for a surprise wedding ceremony.

All Cordelia saw was an indication for formal holiday party attire. “There’s nothing here. No engagement announcement. No hint of anything.”

“Should there be?”

Cordelia eyed him suspiciously for a moment. “You’ve been doing a lot of talking to my mother over the telephone.”

With an embarrassed shrug, Angel admitted, “Your mother has been talking to Joyce about a stake in the gallery. Knowing my interest in art, she’s been trying to talk me into becoming a sponsor.”

“I’m gonna kill her,” Cordelia muttered. Completely forgetting the fact that she should be thrilled the phone calls weren’t all about color-coordinating the reception’s linen napkins and the cummerbunds, it was startling to hear that her mother was hitting Angel up for money.

No sooner had her parents gotten out of a financial fiasco than her mother was trying to make investments with Angel’s apparently lucrative family holdings. He’d never touched the money before pulling her parents out of debt. It was blood money accrued at the cost of human lives; something Cordelia knew had to have an impact on Angel every time he spent a dime of it, even on her.

The thought made her wonder if Angel might want to put an end to touching that money. Outright asking him about it, Cordelia was startled to hear him chuckle in response. “It’s just money. Nothing we do will change where it came from, but I do have a say in how it gets spent.”

With that said, Cordelia perked up. “I need a dress for this formal holiday affair that is in no way a surprise engagement party.”

Angel promised her, “It won’t be. Emelia gave me her word.”

Patting his cheek, Cordelia shook her head. “Who knew a 250 year-old vampire could be so naïve.”

“I’m not that old.” He looked more offended that she’d added on five years than he did at being called naïve.

Cordelia rolled her eyes. Nudging his ribs, she grinned, “I wasn’t even counting the hundred years you spent in Acathla’s hell dimension, old man.”

The memory of that had faded from Angel’s mind like it never happened. No doubt a defense mechanism to save his sanity upon his return. “Technically, Cordelia, I’m younger than you. Cosmic destiny. Fated birth. Two months ago. Sound familiar?”

“If Irish blarney sounds familiar, then I suppose it does.” Dropping the invitation onto the foyer table, Cordelia picked up Angel’s car keys, jingling them. “I think someone around here mentioned the word shopping.”

~*~

“What’s this?” Cordelia glanced down at the gilded box with its bright red bow sitting on the foyer table where she couldn’t possibly miss it.

Having come home from school directly after cheerleading practice, she expected to find Angel waiting at the door. Not that she expected him to be there like a lapdog eager for her return home. It was just that he’d promised her something special this evening. She’d been completely unsuccessful in wheedling the information out of him before she left for school.

Even Willow managed to stay closed-mouthed when Cordelia commented on her pending surprise during lunchtime. The fact that the redhead knew something about it and wasn’t telling kept her distracted the rest of the day. So much so that the thought of Angel confiding in Willow caused a flash of jealousy as she realized the two of them talked a lot more than they ever did when Buffy was in the picture.

If Cordelia didn’t know that Willow and Oz were so close, she’d actually consider warning her off. The girl actually had a pet name for Angel. So what if it was just the formal version of the name everyone else used. So what if her parents also called him Angelus out of habit. That didn’t mean Willow should go around calling him by a special name, especially knowing that it still stung Cordelia when she heard it.

Leading the squad through their routines, Cordelia had been an automaton. Instinct and repetition guided her through the moves. Her mind was already at the mansion with Angel. Feeling ridiculous about her momentary jealousy of Willow Rosenberg, Cordelia remembered that it wasn’t the first time she felt that particular emotion in the past couple of weeks.

If that meant something, Cordelia had no clue what it might be. Jealousy was not an emotion she had much experience with.

“Angel?” Cordelia called out and heard the echo of her own voice rebounding back at her.

She stood at the circular table in the center of the foyer, her fingertips planted on its surface on either side of the square box with the bright red bow. A minute passed as Cordelia waited for the vampire to appear. Then two as her mind skirted over the various possibilities. Finally, she took in a deep breath and headed toward the door leading to the basement.

Just as she opened it, Angel appeared on the other side having taken a moment to grab a towel before jogging up the stairs to meet her. Letting out a surprised gasp, Cordelia threw her arms around his neck and hugged him like she hadn’t seen him in months. “Angel. You’re here.”

“I’m also sweaty,” he warned considering that he hadn’t had a chance to towel off after his workout.

Cordelia muttered, “Me too, I’m afraid. I came straight home after practice.”

She was still in her cheerleading outfit, he noted with a lopsided grin. “So I see.”

Grabbing onto both ends of the towel around his neck, Cordelia yanked him down to press her mouth to his. Then releasing her hold, she stepped back before Angel knew what to think of the spontaneous kiss. He didn’t know where this burst of enthusiasm came from, but he wasn’t about to knock it.

“Is that present for me?” Her eyes sparkled expectantly.

Playing clueless, he inquired, “What present?”

“The one on the table,” her head nodded briefly in that direction. Smiling, Cordelia emphasized, “The one with the bow.”

Angel considered his answer slowly, grinning back at her. “Maybe. That depends on whether you peeked in the box.”

“Did not.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes! I was too busy looking for you,” Cordelia pointed out. “Big mistake there. I should’ve peeked.”

“It would have ruined my big surprise.”

Cordelia’s head was swimming. What was the vampire cooking up? “That’s not the real surprise? There’s another one?”

“Maybe. I wouldn’t want to bore you with too many surprises,” Angel appeared as though the concern was legitimate.

“I’m not bored,” she answered hurriedly. Cordelia’s curiosity was certainly piqued. Being bored with Angel or his sudden penchant for buying her presents was not on her list of concerns. At least, she didn’t think it should be.

Angel knew she wanted to open that gift. He was glad that Cordelia had stopped to look for him before doing so. He needed to be there to explain it. “Then you won’t mind the delay. You can’t have your surprise until after sunset, anyway, so opening your present can wait until after we shower and get dressed for dinner.”

“T-Together?” Cordelia’s voice shook a little at the thought.

Ignoring her meaning, Angel closed the basement door and headed down the hall toward the main staircase. “I wasn’t planning on dining alone, even if I am on a liquid diet.”

As she followed behind, Cordelia was glad he couldn’t see the blush that brightened her cheeks. “Oh, the dining. Got it.”

Heading up the stairs, Angel offered, “I’ll take the second floor bathroom if you want to head on upstairs.”

“Just what I had in mind.” Not. Cordelia tried to ignore the instant rush of memories of their shared showers and bubble baths.

“See you later,” Angel sounded almost cheery as he paused on the landing.

“Preferably when you’re not naked,” Cordelia muttered aloud catching up to him.

Laughing, he reminded her that there were few things his vampire hearing didn’t pick up. “I heard that.”

“So don’t come up unless I’m still in the bathroom,” Cordelia turned completely serious. It wasn’t fair having this no-touching policy even if it was her own stupid idea. How was she supposed to think about the details ahead of time? “Just don’t come up if you’re naked…or dripping wet…or wrapped only in a towel.”

“Is that a problem?” Angel held onto the ends of the white towel around his neck which did nothing to help Cordelia’s imagination from working overtime. Especially since his damp muscle shirt clung to the sculpted angles of his chest.

Turning on her heel, she headed up the stairs to the top floor, pausing to glance over her shoulder at the vampire who stood watching her. With a quip, Cordelia said, “You might catch cold.”

When Cordelia finally emerged from their bathroom wrapped up in Angel’s large navy robe, she found him already dressed in black pants and a matching sweater. He was sitting in the bedside chair flipping through a sketchbook, which he promptly shoved into the top drawer of the nightstand as soon as she emerged.

“Sheesh! Did you use your vampire speed in the shower?”

“No. Some people just take longer in the bathroom with all of that hair drying and makeup application,” he pointed out.

Cordelia snarked, “This from Mister Hair Product himself.”

Standing up, Angel walked up to her blocking her path to the closet. He looked down at her with a hint of surprise as he ran a lone finger down the front closure of the robe to entwine around the knotted belt. “You’re wearing my robe.”

It was on the tip of her tongue to tell him that the robe wasn’t his, but they’d had that argument too many times before considering that everything in the house had belonged to either Angelus or Angel at one time. Besides, it hadn’t been either one of them she’d been thinking about when her hand reached for her own terry cloth robe and landed on his cotton one instead.

“I had soap in my eyes and grabbed it first,” Cordelia shrugged defensively.

Angel was gentleman enough to let her get away with the bald-faced lie. Releasing his hold on the belt, he stepped aside to let her pass. “Jeans are fine for tonight.”

Cordelia watched him leave the room, knowing that he was giving her space to get dressed without him hovering around. Had he stayed just long enough to tell her what to wear to dinner and whatever her surprise involved? Or was there something else he was doing?

Her eyes darted to the nightstand drawer. Finding herself in front of it, Cordelia’s hand hovered over the handle. Opening it would be a total invasion of Angel’s privacy, she lectured herself even as her fingers wrapped around the metal and gave a little tug.

The nightmares had brought a hint of paranoia into her life, especially with anything involving Angel. The creeping suspicion that clamped its fist in her chest forced her to act. She needed to see the contents of that book. It wasn’t just a common sketch book. Nor was it one that belonged to Angelus or his brother. This was a leather-bound journal Cordelia had purchased along with myriad other items to replace those belonging to his predecessors. The thought of him, a stranger at the time, touching Angel’s art supplies had been as unacceptable as him using his favorite mug.

Whatever was inside, Cordelia knew he put it there. She smoothed her hand over the leather surface, uncertain as to whether she should proceed any further. It might not be drawings. He could have used the book to journal his experiences, his thoughts or his plans for the future.

The idea scared her. So much so that her legs gave out and it was fortunate that the chair was right behind her to catch her fall. What if those plans included leaving her? Leaving Sunnydale? Putting behind him all of the misery she’d given him over the past couple of months to search for the destiny the Moirae had promised him.

She had to know and so with a trembling hand, Cordelia opened the book’s cover. It was overwhelming, she thought upon seeing herself depicted page after page. The images were all of her. Sleeping. Awake. Smiling. Clothed. Naked. In situations that she recognized and others totally stemming from his imagination.

It was the familiar ones that kept her attention. Moments trapped in time. Things that came straight from the memories of Angelus and Angel. Things he saw only through their eyes. Excepting the identical looks, she’d never had such evidence that he was exactly what he presented himself to be. Everything they were and more.

Slamming the book closed, Cordelia shoved it back in the drawer.

Fifteen minutes later, she joined Angel downstairs. He was in the kitchen having just finished putting the top slice of toast on the tomato and cheese sandwich he’d made for her. “I thought we’d eat simple tonight. There might be more food in the picture later if you’re lucky.”

Cordelia simply stared at him silently.

Confused, Angel suggested, “I could fix something else if you’re hungry.”

“No, this is fine,” she managed a weak smile. Walking up to the counter, Cordelia pulled the plate toward her. Not that she had an appetite at the moment.

She hopped onto the kitchen stool, watching Angel as he went about fixing his blood. When he caught her staring, Cordelia’s attention dropped to the bread crust on her sandwich as she proceeded to peel it away. By the time the microwave beeped, she had piled up a small tower of crust and crumbs next to her plate.

“Angel, I looked at your sketchbook,” she confessed as soon as he turned around to face her.

A moment of silence passed between them with Angel looking rather contemplative. “I did warn you that I was starting to feel a little obsessive where you’re concerned,” he pointed out hoping that she had not found offense in anything he had put to paper. “It helps occupy some of my time. Distracts me from constantly wanting you.”

“Like there’s a cure for that?” Cordelia rolled her eyes and only realized afterward that she had said the words aloud.

A grin lit his face, making Angel even more handsome than usual. “I hope not. I happen to enjoy wanting you.”

That brought the smile back to her face. “I knew that.”

Cordelia wasn’t about to tell him that she was thinking that impossible cures would include finding a way to stop wanting him. Picking up her sandwich, Cordelia took a large bite knowing it was the one sure way to shut her up. Mother taught her never to talk with her mouthful and she was almost certain that she followed that rule. It was certainly worth a try because saying too much might make her nightmares come true.

~*~

The gilded box felt almost weightless. Five-by-five inches on each side, it was too big to be a jewelry box. There was no telltale product emblem hinting at its contents.

Cordelia glanced up at Angel who stood watching with an unreadable expression on his face. Trying not to give anything away by looking excited, perhaps, or nervous that she wouldn’t like what was inside.

Plucking at the end of the red ribbon, she had to admit a sense of nervousness of her own. The damn nightmares were far worse than they had when she first experienced them and even the simplest actions sometimes seemed suspiciously linked to what she remembered from them.

Not that she expected Angel to give her a box of exploding confetti like Xander might have done. There was something important about this little gift and Cordelia’s insides were aflutter as she considered what that might be inside.

Just as Cordelia started to pull on the ribbon, Angel touched her hand stopping the action. “Before you open it, Cordy, I want to say something.”

The butterflies were swarming now. “Okay.”

“It’s been stressful for both of us the last few weeks,” he began slowly as if hedging dangerous territory. “We’ve said and done some hurtful things to each other.”

“Can’t we put it behind us?” Cordelia asked despairingly.

Nodding, Angel answered, “I hope so. We have a history together, Cordelia. One that we can’t ignore and whether or not you can accept how we got to this point, we’ve got to move past it.”

“I’m t—”

“Yes, you’re trying,” Angel bit down a little too hard on the word. “I get that, baby. I really do. We’ve made some progress the past few days.”

Cordelia had to agree. Though finding the scrapbook and seeing its contents was like a window into his heart and his past giving her a glimpse of how seamlessly she fit into his combined memories and the feelings they engendered. The shock of it still had her reeling. Angel had made no effort to hide his love for her and while Cordelia accepted the fact that he was somehow a new and unique individual, she hadn’t really understood the depths to which he was very much the man she loved.

“Progress,” she echoed almost numbly. “Yes. It’s just that I’m tired of whining about it. Any moving on i— maybe I don’t want to move past it, Angel. Maybe things are good right here and now.”

Looking like she’d hit him with a sledgehammer, Angel told her, “I’ve spent a lot of wasted time trying to convin—”

“Wasted! Says who?” It sounded as if Angel was trying to give up on her. Was this some sort of going away present? If so, the real surprise involved him leaving town. “Nothing’s been wasted. We’re doing things. Fun things. Except for the not having sex…that’s not so much fun. It’s been almost two weeks.”

Angel cut in with a moan, “Trust me, I know.”

Cupping her shoulders, Angel held her steady when she seemed to be pacing a small hole in the flooring. Cordelia held the gift up between them, “What’s this about?”

“You and me and our future together,” he told her.

Staring at the box, Cordelia wondered how it could possibly hold something so fragile and intangible as that. Their future. The Moirae promised one, but their dealings in the realm of infinite outcomes offered nothing Cordelia could cling to with certainty.

She looked so pensive that Angel wondered if he’d made a mistake about this, but it was too late to change his mind even considering what she’d just said. He could only hope that his idea would have merit. “We can’t change the past, Cordelia. I’ve spent far too much time brooding about it not to understand the hold it has in our lives.”

“I thought you didn’t brood,” Cordelia poked him in the ribs, now feeling less gloomy about Angel’s revelations and the secrets within the gilded gift box. He grabbed her hand with inhuman speed and then brought it slowly upward to press a kiss into the center of her palm.

“Not anymore,” he told her while retaining his hold on her hand. “I’m past brooding about the fact that our feelings for each other are not quite on the same level.”

“But, I—” Cordelia shut up as soon as she saw his expression. Angel wasn’t finished talking and she doubted he needed to hear a repeat of the fact that she was making an effort.

“Cordy, I don’t want this to be about where we’re at,” Angel explained. “I want it to be about where we’re going.”

Maybe it was just the sentiment behind his words or the impact of the sketchbook or the results of those nightmares, but it wasn’t just that her feelings were on a totally different level these days. Cordelia felt like she was being pulled in two directions. A sunburst of hope filled her at Angel’s talk of a future together, but quickly dimmed under the gloom constantly lingering from her dreams.

They’d come too frequently with the same dark whisperings to think it was nothing. Going, he’d said. Fishing for possibilities, “As in…leaving town?”

“Wh— no, we’re not leaving, Sunnydale,” Angel shook his head now feeling a little muddled. Was that something she wanted? The mansion did hold a lot of memories.

“Just you, Angel,” Cordelia clarified. Though that wasn’t exactly how he phrased it, the way the idea meshed with her nightmares seemed too coincidental. Inevitable should she do nothing. “I meant you. Where you’re going.”

Angel was stunned by her words, uncertain why she would come up with such a thought. It should be obvious that he didn’t want to spend a night apart from her much less leave town without her. Shocked and outraged by the idea, he blurted, “You think I’d leave you?”

Now he was pacing, moving back and forth like a caged tiger. Cordelia grabbed onto his arm as he stalked past her for the third time. She didn’t want to believe it might be true, but the fact that she’d given him nothing but heartache since the moment of his first appearance added doubts.

Cordelia wasn’t a pessimist by nature. Just a realist caught up in a situation that had too many possibilities. There was only one answer she wanted to hear. “Tell me you won’t and I’ll believe it.”

Palming her face, his thumb moved along the soft slope of her lips. “Nothing is going to separate us, Cordy,” Angel swore with such vehemence that he was certain she could not doubt it.

Cordelia hooked her arm around his neck, leaning up to cover his mouth in a kiss of reassurance. Their lips met and clung together before parting on a sigh. She smiled at Angel as they parted, purposefully pushing aside her visible doubts. It wasn’t his loyalty she questioned, not in the face of everything he’d said and done. Loving her had nothing to do with leaving.

Apparently, that was something the Fates could decide on a whim. One day to the next. That’s all it took to lose Angelus and Angel. All it took to replace them with this new and improved upgrade. Though he was far more than that, especially to her.

While Angel sounded certain that nothing would keep them apart, he wasn’t counting on the fact that the Moirae weren’t finished with him. That his promised destiny still lay ahead of him. She didn’t trust their comments about her inclusion in that future, but Cordelia decided that she was ready to do whatever it would take to be there.

Realizing that was sudden, surprising and came with an amazing sense of liberation.

“That’s a good thing, champ,” Cordelia smiled brilliantly, suddenly feeling free of the invisible weight pressing down on her entire being. “Cos I’m not about to let you get away.”

Tempted just to take her in his arms and keep kissing her until he was certain that she really meant that, Angel sensed it would be one of those times they wouldn’t stop. Distraction was needed pronto.

Pointing at the gift box in her hand, Angel encouraged her, “Open it.”

She’d almost forgotten it was there. That eager sparkle returned to her eyes as Cordelia tugged on the ribbon and tossed it onto the table. “Am I going to like this?”

The vampire looked decidedly nervous. He rubbed the back of his neck, shoved his hands in his pockets and rocked back on his heels. Only the fact that Angel seemed incapable of speech stopped her from drawing it out any longer.

Glancing into the box, Cordelia blinked a few times as she saw its contents. “Angel, this is a Christmas ornament.”

“I know,” he grinned slowly having predicted her confusion.

Taking the gold filigree ball with its delicate handcrafted framework from the box to admire the workmanship, Cordelia admitted, “It’s beautiful, but I’m not seeing the connection here. What does this have to do with our future?”

Angel knew he’d have to explain the gift as it was really just a minor part of things, but it symbolized his point, his hope and their new beginning. Now if he could just manage to speak without stumbling all over the words, maybe Cordelia would see it too.

“Traditions have to start somewhere,” he explained. “We’re starting fresh, Cordelia. You and me. Us. Together.”

There was an unasked question in his voice. The need for confirmation, which she gave in the form of a slight nod and her full attention.

“I can’t ask you to forget the past. Those memories are too sharp and too precious to fade.” Angel added, “Even mine, as secondhand as they are, mean too much to ignore. They’re of you, after all. What I want…no, what I’m asking is that we start making some memories of our own.”

Her breath caught in her throat at those poignant words spoken with such emotion. So full of hope and pain and love. Cordelia blinked away the slow burn in her eyes. Caught so close to tears, she responded instinctively, “Memorable moments are our specialty, Angel. Just ask Giles.”

“Moments like that come in spades,” Angel’s mouth curled up at one corner at the thought of just how many times and ways they had physically claimed each other in the past few weeks. He stepped closer putting himself within her space and radiating with sex appeal.

“Not lately,” Cordelia returned as a hot flame licked at her loins, an automatic reaction to his presence within her personal bubble.

Angel’s fingers tingled with the urge to touch her. He didn’t, simply staring intently into the dilated depths of her eyes. “Soon, baby, I promise. Give it some time.”

Noting her almost imperceptible grumble, Angel reminded her, “Part of our little pact is to do things together as friends would, as a family would, not just as lovers. Today we’re starting a new family tradition.”

“One involving Christmas ornaments?”

Shaking his head, Angel told her, “More than that. Keep in mind that human holidays aren’t exactly on the vampire activity calendar.”

Cordelia snorted amusedly. “Except Halloween, which for some bizarro reason is the annual demon day of rest.”

More serious, she added, “I figured that Christmas would be a no-go. A non-holiday. Kinda like at the Rosenbergs.”

“Um, I’d hardly make that comparison,” Angel responded. “Though talking to Willow about this actually helped.”

“Great,” Cordelia smiled tightly while imagining taping the redhead’s mouth shut with thick electrical tape. “Willow’s so— helpful.”

Missing the sarcasm, Angel continued on. “She was talking about the fact that being Jewish, Christmas wasn’t exactly a holiday at her house. When she started talking about your ideas for Oz’ present and the fact that she wanted to share his holiday, I realized there are other aspects to celebrate beyond the religious ones.”

“Commercialism and reruns of ‘It’s a Wonderful Life’?”

Angel knew Cordelia wasn’t that clueless. Generally, the snarky comments came out whenever they were hedging too close to an emotional topic. Discussing the fact that he wanted them to build a future together had to fit the bill. He wasn’t about to let it sidetrack him now.

“Family. Joy. Togetherness. That’s part of it; what it’s supposed to be about,” Angel suggested. “Cordy, can we have that? Can we aim for the impossible?”

Those things weren’t impossible. Not if the two of them counted as a family. Not if the pleasure she found in his arms could translate to other aspects of happiness. Not if she had any say in the possibility of being apart.

“Yes,” she whispered her promise.

“This is our first Christmas together,” he pointed out needlessly. It was something she’d never had with them, something they could make their own. “I want it to be special.”

Feeling her heart swell in response, Cordelia’s smile reached supernova status as she curled her fingers into the material of his open collar and pulled herself even closer. “Angel, it already is.”

A minute later, the dull thunk of Cordelia’s back colliding with the wooden surface of the door brought them both to their senses. Somehow, she was in his arms with her legs wrapped around him as he held her aloft. Their lips parting slowly, reluctantly, both looked a little sheepish upon realizing how close they’d come to breaking their own rules.

“Whoops!” Cordelia uncurled her legs and slipped down his solid frame.

Angel held her close for another second, his dark head bent over her shoulder as he collected himself enough to speak. “Maybe we’d better focus on the rest of your surprise... finding a tree to go with that ornament.”

~Part: 49~

“So what’s wrong with that one?” Cordelia eyed the Scotch Pine with a scrutinizing stare.

Angel mumbled something about it looking asymmetrical before moving down the line to examine a Blue Spruce. This was the third Christmas Tree lot they’d been to and Cordelia figured they were fast running out of options. Mister Perfectionist had to find a flawless tree large enough not to be swallowed up by the mansion’s entryway.

Giggling as she trailed behind him while sipping hot cider from a paper cup supplied by the owner of the lot, Cordelia decided she loved the way Angel threw himself into an activity. It reminded her of the way Angelus had so passionately cheered for the Razorbacks in the football game against the Fighting Falcons of Palmdale. She’d been watching him from the sidelines as she lead her cheerleading squad through their routines and had later been regaled with more details by the Scoobies and Angelus himself.

While the thought of Angelus brought a momentary sigh to her lips, it was followed quickly enough by more amused laughter as Angel argued with the tree merchant over the price of a Douglas Fir. Once the two of them haggled it down by thirty-three dollars, Angel seemed satisfied. Until he added, “That includes delivery, right?”

Cordelia tucked her hand into the crook of Angel’s arm, leaning her head against his shoulder as the negotiations continued. Finally, they left the lot with everyone’s pride still intact and the merchant waving them farewell. “Merry Christmas!”

“That went well,” Angel commented smugly as they strolled along Main Street. Shop windows were decorated for the holidays with fake snow and glistening lights. It was just cold enough to feel the winter breezes and he found the rosy tint to Cordelia’s cheeks and the way her breath was visible as it contacted the air. “Do you like it? I do realize that I forgot to ask. Just caught up in the moment.”

“I like it,” she answered truthfully. “What’s not to like? It’s the perfect tree. After all, you looked at every tree in Sunnydale.”

Angel frowned, “That’s an exaggeration.”

“So what was that when you were eyeing the tree planted in front of City Hall?”

“Just making comparisons,” he shrugged guiltlessly.

With a humorous snort, Cordelia rolled her eyes. “Tell that to Mayor Wilkins.”

Clearing his throat, Angel changed the subject, suggesting that they head over to the shops to look for decorations. Now that they had a tree, it was necessary to figure out what to do with it.

“We could have a theme tree,” Cordelia suggested. “Pick a color scheme or an idea and go with that.”

Angel wasn’t at all certain about tree decorating protocols. “Maybe you should pick.”

“It’s not that difficult,” she pointed out a display in a store window as they strolled along like any other couple. “Start with the lights. White lights or colored lights?”

Crossing his arms over his broad chest, Angel contemplated the question as if he was weighing the artistic merits and complexities of a masterpiece. Cordelia stood by as he took ten minutes to decide that there could be no decision on the lights until she decided what kind of decorations she wanted.

“We’ll keep it simple,” Cordelia promised. “Ornaments to complement the one you gave me, red bows and popcorn strings.”

Imagining the mess created by making strings of popcorn, Angel raised a brow only to have her tap her foot against the pavement. “No negotiation on the popcorn.”

Holding her hand, Angel walked beside her as they glanced through each shop window. They paused at the sound of a loud, “Ho, ho, ho,” accompanied by the jingle of a bell.

A full-bearded Santa dressed in a cheap red and white suit stood at the corner with a charity bucket hanging from a stand at his side. He was heavy on the bell ringing and the ho-ho-ho-ing. The name of a local charity was written on a sign attached to the tri-legged stand.

Glancing expectantly at Angel, Cordelia nudged him with her elbow. “Get with the spirit. Tis the season and all that. You just haggled your way into free delivery for an overpriced tree, so get with the giving already.”

Not that Angel was against donating to charity. It was just another new concept for him. He pulled out a few folded bills, but couldn’t seem to make it close enough to the bucket to drop them in. “How much of that really gets where it needs to go?”

Santa paused with the bell ringing. “What was that, buddy?”

“Doesn’t seem very safe,” Angel commented on the lack of security. “Anyone could come along and mug you.”

Santa waved off the idea and patted his heavily padded costume. “Are ya gonna make a donation or not?”

Poking Angel in the side, Cordelia told him, “Fork it over.”

“I’m just saying the bucket looks kind of vulnerable.”

Caught between exasperation and amusement, she blurted, “Dork! Just give the fat man the money.”

“Buddy,” Santa leaned close to give Angel some advice, “better do as your girlfriend tells you or you won’t hear the end of it. Trust me. Mrs. Claus gives me an earful.”

“I bet she does,” Cordelia commented while thinking the man wasn’t exactly the kind of Santa you’d find at the local mall taking pictures with the kiddies. Still, the way he seemed to rile up Angel made up for his brashness by far. The expression on Angel’s face was enough to keep her grinning. “Enough with the scowling, Scroogie.”

Flashing her a silent promise to get back at her for that one later, Angel dumped the money in the bucket. He watched as the padded man winked at Cordelia. Indulgently playing along, she tugged at the fake beard, “Am I on your naughty or nice list, Santa?”

“Someone’s definitely gonna get what they want for Christmas,” the bell ringer said with a deep sigh as he eyed Cordelia from head to toe. “Just wish it was me.”

Cordelia was still laughing as Angel grabbed her hand and dragged her through the door of the nearest shop just to get them out of Santa’s line of vision. “Better stop flirting with Santa. I’d hate to have to put him in the hospital before his big night,” he muttered only half joking.

“Flirting? Eew!” Cordelia scrunched up her nose. “Was not...much.”

A raised brow was all she got in response prompting her to add, “Gotta stay on Santa’s good side. Now I know I’ll get what I want for Christmas.”

“He was talking about me,” Angel pointed out needlessly. He saw the mischievous glint in Cordelia’s eyes and new she was milking the situation for every irritating ounce of amusement she could get. “He meant you. That having you would give me what I want for Christmas.”

Not that she needed the interpretation. Leering Santa was scary enough without him putting ideas in Cordelia’s head. “So if I showed up in a red bow Christmas morning, you think you’d like your present?”

A far-away look appeared suggesting he was already imagining it, but then he said with all seriousness, “I’d love it, baby, but what I want doesn’t come with a bow.”

Her heart thudded a little faster as Cordelia realized he meant her love. Angel had used that word sparingly ever since their fight. He was right, though. Love wasn’t something she could put in a box and decorate with shiny wrapping paper and tie up neatly with a bow, but it was a gift. Something she thought she’d lost completely.

Suddenly, Cordelia wanted to hear him say those words again. Just as a reminder that it was true. That he loved her. “Tell me, Angel. What do you wan—”

“Trains!” Angel cut her off, a silly boyish grin lighting his features as he glanced over her shoulder. Grabbing her by the hand, he pulled her along to a store display where miniature trains chugged through a sleepy ceramic village.

“You want little trains?” muttered Cordelia. That was so not what she expected him to say. Unless he was simply trying to avoid the conversation. She wasn’t sure that she wanted to let him get away with that, but Angel was so engrossed in following the path of the train as it wound around the base of a decorated tree that she could only watch in wonder.

Angel practically giggled with delight, a sound that left Cordelia gaping as he pointed out, “Look at the little caboose.”

“Boys and their toys,” sighed the elderly shopkeeper as she appeared by Cordelia’s side. “I must admit that display gets them every time. Even the serious ones. Turns them into giddy children just like that.”

The woman snapped her fingers, which seemed to draw Angel’s attention away from the train. He glanced over at his mate who watched him with amused wonderment, “Don’t you think this would look great in the foyer, Cordy?”

“Will that be cash or charge, deary?” The woman headed to the checkout counter with a knowing smile on her face.

Cordelia pulled Angel up off of the floor and held out her hand for the credit card she hadn’t expected would get much use tonight. “You are a walking contradiction, Angel D’Aurelius. Haggling miserly Scrooge you. Dorkula shopaholic you.”

“Don’t forget about…,” Angel cupped the nape of Cordelia’s neck, pulling her close to whisper in her ear mindful of the overly interested third party a short distance away.

As they parted, Cordelia glanced at the old woman to assure that she hadn’t heard a thing. By the time she turned around, Angel was holding out their Platinum Master Card. Snatching the credit card out of his hand, she rolled her eyes, “Egomaniac.”

Teasing each other came all too naturally. Caught up in rules of their own making, it added a little thrill to stave off some of the frustration. Though it didn’t show on her face, Cordelia’s instantaneous response sounded clear in the way her breath held for a moment of time releasing on a deep sigh and the flutter of her normally steady heartbeat as it escalated into a rapid cadence.

“Someone’s got a lot to make up for,” Cordelia muttered to herself as she reached the counter.

Overhearing, the shopkeeper commented with a wink, “Don’t you worry, deary. Let your husband enjoy his new toy. I’ll just make sure you get a little something out of it too.”

Cordelia was too caught up by the woman’s assumption to wonder what she meant. Ten minutes later the train set was boxed and bagged. They were on their way out of the store, loaded down with their packages, when the shopkeeper called out, “Just a minute, young man.”

Angel’s automatic response of, “Yes, ma’am?” had Cordelia stifling a giggle. Mister Contradiction strikes again. Gentleman Vampire was definitely something Sunnydale didn’t see a lot.

The blue-haired lady commented, “I don’t climb up on ladders to hang mistletoe just for my health, you know. It’s Christmas, after all, and an old woman likes to live a little vicariously through you young people.”

Glancing upward, Cordelia and Angel saw they were standing directly under a large sprig of mistletoe. While the thought of following through with the suggestion was tempting, both of them remembered how their kiss had gotten a little out of hand earlier.

Cordelia offered up her cheek. “Safe enough?”

The peck that followed was fast and unsatisfying. Apparently for the shopkeeper as well. “You call that a kiss? In my day, a young man wouldn’t let an opportunity like this go to waste.”

An almost imperceptible growl sounded as Angel suppressed the urge to tell the old woman to mind her own business. Only the fact that she seemed genuinely full of holiday spirit and good will made him back down. Then it might not really be her that stirred his irritation. It was the fact that he felt he needed to control his desire to kiss Cordelia that really pissed him off.

She was staring up at him expectantly, looking like she was torn between telling him to control his baser urges and acting out a few of her own. Then her luscious mouth curled up into a tempting smile, “Kiss me.”

“It’s technically within the rules,” Angel agreed readily enough. They’d kept it in after realizing neither one of them wanted to forgo their morning kisses.

Their rationale was simple even if it did mirror a growing list of excuses.

Surely, there were countless ways of kissing without getting into crossing the line set by their intimacy rules. Families and friends kissed to express random feelings and close ties. Couples did it all of the time without it leading anywhere, so why not them?

“Rules, schmules,” Cordelia returned. “It’s mistletoe. You don’t need rules for that.”

“You two sure talk a lot,” the shopkeeper piped up in complaint. Any other time and her customers would be all over themselves. “It’s a tradition.”

Cordelia smirked, “Gonna let an old lady pick on you, champ?”

“We’re doing the holiday tradition thing. I suppose tha— come here, Cordy.” His voice dropped down to a husky octave as Angel gave into the need to taste that beautiful smile. The teasing sparkle left her eyes replaced by an eager need equal to his own.

Angel met her in the middle, barely a second passing before he planted his lips over hers in a fiery kiss that melted her insides. Loaded down with their packages, their hands were tied up unable to hold each other, but their bodies crowded close. What started with the claiming of her mouth slowed to an immeasurable pace, their lips gliding softly together teasing and tasting.

Moaning softly, Cordelia’s tongue slid like a bare whisper across his before darting in retreat. Then clinging one moment more, they separated, opening their eyes to look at the other. Soft smiles played over their faces, enjoyment of their little foray into the land of mistletoe kisses apparent.

“Cordy, I—”

“Angel, I—”

“What?” Both asked in simultaneous response to their broken statements.

It had been on the tip of Angel’s tongue to tell Cordelia that he loved her. Those words were in his head and constantly in his heart. Holding back these past couple of weeks came in attempt not to create any undue pressure by voicing his feelings. It amazed him that three small words could have such a strong hold over their lives and that something so utterly simple could be so complex.

“I think I like mistletoe,” he told her feeling the need to say something, even as silly and obvious as that.

“Dork! Let’s go home. My arms are gonna fall off from carrying your choo-choo train parts,” Cordelia gave an exaggerated moan. “Besides, they’re bringing the tree in an hour or so. We need to be there.”

They spent the rest of the evening decorating their very first Christmas tree. Cordelia loved the fact that Angel kept suggesting there would be other future Christmases. It brushed away her doubts until the happy feelings nestled inside were focused only on him. When they finally tumbled into bed, neither bothered to seek out the edges of the mattress. As they curled up in each other’s arms, Cordelia felt certain that any dreams tonight would be full of Christmas sugarplums, mistletoe kisses and Angel.

~*~

She followed Angel along the misty path, a trail of overgrown weeds and clinging vines shadowed by the cloak of a moonlit night. The limbs of trees bared for winter snagged at her clothing holding her back and forcing Cordelia to fight past them just to keep up with the vampire’s forward progress. He led her through the dreamscape, a silent guide, a familiar face against the threat of the unknown.

Being here at this juncture no longer scared her. The fear remained at bay as she darted amongst the shadows waiting for the whispering to begin. It always came to her from a distance, a barely perceptible voice sounding out its harsh truths and bating her with suggestions.

“Yes,” she answered its initial call. “He’s coming. Don’t you see?”

The mist closed in as the whispers grew louder. Angel disappeared from her view. This always happened. Always. Cordelia knew that if she did not hurry, Angel would be gone and there would be no finding him in the shroud of gloom that penetrated the dream.

That was the strange thing. Even here and now, Cordelia knew she was dreaming, that this was something beyond reality. Unfortunately, it locked her in its grip and would not allow escape. It held her, binding her close until the moment drew near. Until the mist started to clear. Until she caught a glimpse of what lay beyond.

“He won’t leave,” Cordelia called out in defiance when the whispered voice told her otherwise. “Angel said so.”

Cordelia broke away from the tangled vines that kept tripping her forward progress. Clear, she started running, endlessly running. The mist surrounded her, blinding her, but she would not stop. Until she ran full bore into a chain link fence.

What lay beyond remained in shadow except for the outline of Angel’s familiar figure standing just beyond the barrier. Fading away, he vanished leaving Cordelia isolated with only the fence to hold onto.

Gripping onto its metal chains, Cordelia forced herself take stock of her surroundings knowing that she had never been this far, this close to discovering the reason for her nightmares. A metal sign hung from the fence directly next to her. As she awakened, minus her usual ear-piercing scream, Cordelia simply looked puzzled.

It wasn’t a cryptic sign with a symbolic glyph or any hidden meaning that she could discern. Cordelia repeated the message on the sign several times so as not to forget. Melmon Realty and Development 555-0157. Melmon Realty and Development 555-0157. Melmon Realty and Development 555-0157.

Glaring at the clock on the bedside table, she noted it flashed the same hour and minute as it did every time she awakened from the throws of her nightmare. Cordelia turned her attention to Angel who remained sleeping. Her nightmare had to be less traumatic than usual despite the accursed whispering and fear that accompanied it. Otherwise, he’d be awake and doing his best to chase the aftereffects away.

Maybe it was just only dream, Cordelia figured. Maybe she was just being paranoid, but this sign…was it just a sign or a sign of something more?

Slipping out of bed, Cordelia snuck downstairs to the kitchen where she pulled out the phonebook. Thumbing through, she muttered as she searched for information. Despite already having the phone number, Cordelia wanted more details. “Would that be listed under Melmon, under Realty or under Development?”

After ten minutes of searching, Cordelia came to the conclusion that Melmon R&D was not a company based out of Sunnydale. Picking up the telephone, she dialed information. “Los Angeles? Um, thanks,” she told the operator after receiving the familiar area code.

It was real. A company she’d never heard of before, listed on a sign in her dream was actually real.

“That is bizarre,” Cordelia shuddered as she made her way back upstairs. “Really, really creepy, as a matter of fact. Especially since I’m now talking to myself like a deranged lunatic. Just great!”

Shutting up, she walked back into the bedroom finding that Angel hadn’t budged from his spot in the center of the bed. Cordelia rolled back into the crook of his shoulder resting her head on his chest and wrapping her arm around his waist.

If the realty company was real, did that mean the rest of her dream had a basis in reality?

Sleep evaded Cordelia the remainder of the night. She lay awake thinking about the whispered warnings and watching Angel as he slept soundly. Even after his promises of a future and their fun evening together, Cordelia saw the possibilities slipping away.

There was one thing she could say to fix that. One thing that would keep him at her side. Only Cordelia couldn’t say it aloud. Not when he could hear it and not when the Moirae or the Powers that Be might use her as a crutch to get to him. Or to use him to cause her more pain.

Part of her rebelled against that way of thinking, but it felt like truth. One she could not deny. Still, in the quiet of the night with Angel lost in sleep, Cordelia whispered what she could not otherwise speak. “Angel, I love you.”

~*~

Angel awakened a minute before the clock radio alarmed, just as he did every day, his body now accustomed to the timing. Normally, he would simply soak up the image of the sleeping beauty in his bed and wonder at the fact that he could love someone so much. Then he’d kiss her awake just before the radio sounded its daily tune.

Today, he found Cordelia awake and staring into his eyes. There was no time to say good morning or to question the reason she looked a little glazy-eyed. She pounced on his lips like a hungry tigress, hot desperation driving her to claim something for herself before he vanished. The deep kiss shook them both for all its swiftness being charged with emotion.

Then Cordelia jerked back toward her side of the bed with an apology on her lips.
“Sorry, Angel, I—”

He hauled her back into his arms, “Hush, baby. Kisses are still within the rules.”

Both of them knew that kiss had surpassed any rule of theirs. Cordelia muttered as his mouth explored the sensitive spot beneath her ear, “Part of the bargain.”

“Practice for the mistletoe,” she sensed him grinning as his mouth moved up to meet her pliant lips. They all but melted under him as her body curled into his. Their little morning ritual turned steamy as kiss followed kiss. Angel’s voice kept them grounded as they couldn’t seem to find a way to bring it to an end. “They’re just kisses, Cor.”

Moaning wantonly, Cordelia leaned in as his mouth moved back to her neck following a path across her collar bone and back up the cord of her throat to his mark. He bit down soflty on the skin just holding it between his teeth for a second before swiping his tongue across the redness he’d left behind.

Skin to skin, their bodies pressed tightly together. Her breasts in contact with the smooth planes of his chest. His hard thighs holding one of hers trapped between them. Their loins responding to the closeness. Cordelia wet and aching. Angel’s solid length stirring beneath her. She could feel him beneath the thin barrier of her silk nightgown and the cotton boxers that he wore to bed.

That still left the rest of him naked to her touch, the thought did not escape her. Not that touching was within their rules, she reminded herself. Surely touching this way was only incidental, but their kisses were allowed. As long as they kept to the kisses, things wouldn’t get out of hand.

“Just kisses.” Cordelia sighed against his mouth tasting him with a growing hunger. Yesterday, she’d been content to lie in his arms after they woke up. Just feeling his arms around her and staying there every possible moment until Angel reminded her that she’d be late for school.

Today was different.

Angel buried his hands in Cordelia’s silky hair, holding her steady as he drank in her kisses like they were the only thing that could sustain him. Finally, Cordelia broke away, staring down with those hot hazel eyes. Her arousal just as potent as his own. Angel moved a hand down the curve of her spine, giving himself a moment to enjoy the sensation of her slight weight against him, of her body pressing down against his erection.

She took his distraction as an opportunity to ply kisses along his neck knowing how sensitive that area was for him. Following his actions, Cordelia let her mouth wander over the cords of his neck and opened up to nip at his flesh. Lathing the temporary mark she’d left behind, Cordelia jolted in pleasure at the purr rumbling deep in his chest. His hands covered her buttocks cupping both cheeks and increasing the contact between them as his hips lifted toward her.

“Just a few kisses,” she whispered into his ear before continuing a path of butterfly caresses across his cool skin. The fact that her hands were in play, touching his shoulders and the solid muscles of his chest or that her thumbs stimulated his small male nipples was never acknowledged by her conscious mind.

It was only when her mouth opened up to circle her tongue over that dark patch of skin and its sensitive center that Cordelia raised her head in answer to Angel’s low moan. His hand was back in her hair again, fingers tangled and holding her gaze to his. Then his other hand moved from its place on her rounded bottom before both dropped down on her shoulders.

She almost panicked thinking that Angel was going to push her away and put an end to this. Not so soon. Tomorrow morning was too far away. His hands only guided her southward. “Kiss me, Cordy.”

It was more than a kiss he wanted, Angel acknowledged silently. This was something she hadn’t done for him. Not since Angelus. There was always a chance that Cordelia would tell him where to get off…that usually meant the shower with the cold water turned full blast. Even the little indulgences they’d allowed themselves this morning broke their own rules much less what he was asking.

Cordelia said nothing as her breath caught in her throat. She licked at her lips, their surface slightly swollen and sensitive from their lengthy smooching session. Lowering her mouth to his chest again, she placed a trail of wet kisses as she scooted down his body. Reaching his navel, Cordelia stayed there toying with its concave center while her hands worked to divest Angel of his boxers.

Even as Cordelia used every skill she had learned to pleasure him, the fact that they were breaking the rules niggled at her. Though the hungry look in Angel’s eyes as she watched him watching her quickly snuffed out her doubts. After all, some people didn’t consider this sex. Maybe it was just a fancy form of kissing after all.

Riiiiiight!

Didn’t matter. She wouldn’t stop now. Couldn’t stop until she’d kissed and tasted every inch of him.

Angel’s dark eyes were glued to Cordelia as he soaked up every image. The way her tongue undulated and flicked across the engorged tip of his cock. Her fingers curling around its base sweeping up and down the shaft in an alternately tight and teasing grip. Those plush lips opening up to take in what she could. Her cheeks hollowing. The sweep of her lashes on her cheeks when her eyes closed and the excitement glinting in those hazel orbs as her gaze lifted in response to his throaty cries of encouragement.

Despite his intentions to keep his hands off, Angel found himself with them tangled in her hair again. Enjoying the feel of it as the rest of his senses focused only on what Cordelia was doing to him. When her hands pushed at his thighs to spread them apart allowing her to settle between them, Angel dropped one hand down curling his thumb around the base of his cock and his fingers around the tightening sac below.

Taking this as a hint, Cordelia released him from her mouth, nibbled her way down the underside of his shaft and swept her tongue across the deep folds stretched over his balls. Angel’s threw his head back against his pillow, closing his eyes and letting out a low moan of pleasure as she continued to gently use her teeth and lips on his flesh. The danger of nipping him too sharply excited the vampire just as much as the pleasure of her tongue.

Cordelia moved her mouth over as Angel’s hand jerked in sudden reaction. She sucked his thumb into her mouth fully enclosing it and wrapping her hot wet tongue around its length. Biting down as she passed the last knuckle, Cordelia pressed her teeth into the fleshy part of his hand for just an instant before releasing him.

The surprised gasp followed quickly by a growl of pleasure caused Cordelia to giggle. She peeked up mischievously, her pink tongue showing between her teeth as she smiled. Wordlessly, Angel guided her back to him. This needed to end soon. Any longer and he was going to forget all about their pact and make up for the last ten days of being without her.

As if she knew what he was thinking, Cordelia left the games and teasing behind to put a serious effort into making him come. Her own body thrummed with the idea of bringing him pleasure. She loved to hear her name on his lips and the throaty growls that welled up from his chest; the way his hard male body tensed up under her.

It built up inside him, a wave of inescapable pressure as Cordelia’s mouth sucked at the top half of his shaft while her fingers worked the bottom. She cupped his balls, her fingers gently rolling them as they pulled up tight against his body. Suddenly, he was calling out her name and watching through his half-lidded hazy gaze as Cordelia swallowed every drop she could catch.

Cordelia let out a shaky sigh, licking away the last traces of his salty sex and placing a kiss on the tip of his cock as it slowly returned to its relaxed state. Licking at her lips, she was about to comment that she would definitely be late to school today when Angel moved with a swiftness that left her a little dizzy.

Sitting up, Angel brought her to her knees and pulled her nightgown over her head in a matter of seconds. Tossing the green silk to the floor, his hot gaze washed over her long enough for Cordelia to let out a surprised gasp. Then his lips crashed down onto hers as his arms pulled her close. Angel sucked her lower lip into his mouth, his teeth tugging on it just before his tongue swept out to enter her.

There was desperation in that kiss. Cordelia could taste it. Just as he could taste the proof of their indiscretion as his tongue teased her own. Desperation in their loss of control. Desperation in their need for more. A need echoing between them in the way she held him and the soft cry muted by his mouth as he plundered hers.

Breaking away, Angel palmed her face with both hands, staring darkly into her eyes. Passion and love meeting up with the undeniable force of desire. Emotions driving both of them into a state of silence because speaking would only bring an end to this one way or the other.

Angel lay back on the bed and pulled Cordelia up his body in the same move so that she straddled his head. His determined gaze met her surprised one for an instant as he saw her grab onto the wooden headboard. “It’s just kisses, Cordelia,” Angel said before she could caution him against any further breach of their agreement.

“Kisses,” she managed to mutter in agreement. Did he expect her to disagree? It was fortunate that her brain had short-circuited a while back because Cordelia was not thinking about consequences. It was all pure emotional reaction. Something tucked into the deep vestibule of her heart allowed Cordelia to let go her fears of culpability.

He moved her knees further apart bringing her closer and lifting his face to press a kiss against the moist silk of her panties. Angel opened his mouth and clamped his teeth over her mound only to feel her grind herself against his chin as she moaned at the contact. His fingers toyed with the edges of her panties, flitting along the elastic and teasing over the silk.

“You’re so wet,” Angel let the silk rasp across his tongue enjoying its texture and her taste. She shuddered at the sensation, her body already humming with need as he continued to tease her.

Hooking two fingers beneath the elastic, Angel moved their curled knuckles along her hot cleft and circled the hooded nub. “Gah! Geez, Angel.”

Vocal as always, Cordelia couldn’t stop the little stream of cries that sounded. They only got louder as Angel yanked aside the silk panties and replaced his fingers with his mouth. She squirmed against him in a manner that would have smothered any other man as he lapped at the tangy fluid clinging to her soft pink folds. His nose nudged her clit as his tongue delved in a shallow dip inside her; Cordelia gripped onto the headboard even tighter, throwing her head back until the cascade of her hair fell against her bare bottom.

Sucking softly at her soft flesh, Angel purred at the taste that was pure Cordelia. He loved to hear every response that tumbled from her lips, every little moan, every soft cry, and the grumbled demands that came when he teased her. Looking at her was something else he needed and the multitasking it took to concentrate on it all made him grateful for his own experience.

Cordelia saw Angel’s gaze travel from her face to her breasts. Their tips were swollen standing erect and begging for attention. When her hands left the headboard to cup both firm mounds, squeezing softly and tracing the edges of her thumbs over the nipples, Angel sounded out a moan that rippled across her flesh.

His tongue delved deep piercing her core over and over feeling the pull of her flesh and the hot fluid that dripped down his throat with every stroke. Moving up to latch onto the sensitive bud at the apex of her sex, Angel buried three fingers inside her moving them in long rhythmic strokes as he alternated sharp sucks and fast flicks of his tongue against her.

Dropping her hands from her breasts, Cordelia reached down between her legs and grabbed onto his hair. Instinct driving her to keep Angel exactly where he was, she held him against her as her hips moved in tiny circles. His name fell from her lips along with any number of other sentiments as Cordelia felt herself coming apart.

Angel continued his ministrations, lapping up every drop of her honeyed essence and slowing his movement to a softer rhythm as he felt Cordelia’s heart rate drop closer to its normal pattern. A long sigh left her throat as her body relaxed above him. He place one last kiss on the soft curls of her sex before shifting her over his shoulders and down onto the bed beside him.

Trying to ignore the fact that he was rock hard again, Angel concentrated on Cordelia trying to interpret the post-orgasmic expression in her eyes.

“Angel, I—,” she looked stunned and satisfied at the same time.

He didn’t want to talk right now. Words always got them into trouble.

“Don’t say anything,” he placed a finger over her lips. The move drew a frown to her face which Angel instantly lamented, but he didn’t want to hear anything that might make them regret what just happened.

Cordelia needed to say something despite the dangers and the reason for her fears he knew nothing about. She moved her lips beneath the soft pressure of his finger, “But—.”

If she was going to blame him for starting this or take the blame for enticing him into it, Angel did not want to give her a change to say it. So he played down the impact their spontaneous lovemaking all the while wondering what she was thinking.

Murmuring as his cheek rubbed against the top of her head, “They were just kisses, Cordelia.”

No longer able to see his expression as he tucked her against his shoulder, Cordelia felt a little crestfallen by those words. While the statement technically let them both off the hook for the detour from their celibate path toward a closer relationship, it left her confused. It sounded like Angel hadn’t sensed that being with him meant far more to her than just the simple pleasure they had given each other.

Just kisses? Pfft!

“I have school.” The mention of it had become their little safety net. A reminder that things needed to stop before they got out of hand. Too late for that today. As she flipped over to climb out of bed, Cordelia wondered what excuse they would come up with tomorrow?

If there was a tomorrow. For Cordelia clearly recalled the last words of her unseen nemesis from the nightmares whispering of fear turning to certainty and of love turning to hate. During her long night’s vigil, she came to a number of conclusions.

These were no mere nightmares, but something more. That sign was not just a cryptic message, but a clue. Cordelia would bet anything that the Moirae’s sticky fingers of fate were all over this setting out the path ahead for their Champion.

It was a path that led to Los Angeles.

Cordelia decided the voices were a warning. They whispered what might happen if Angel followed the path laid out for him. Something dark and deadly awaited him. Something she could not name. Only that facing it now would result in everlasting anguish, pure despair for the vampire and she would be the source that fed into it.

No matter how fast she followed, Cordelia realized it would be too late. She knew that if there was to be any kind of future with Angel, this was something she had to stop.

~Part: 50~
 

Slipping unnoticed into the school library, Angel found a shadow and blended into it as he observed the boisterous gathering just outside of Rupert Giles’ office. His eyes immediately sought out his mate, but Cordelia was not part of the group. A strange feeling had plagued him all morning, ever since he’d finally crawled back out of bed.

Earlier, their lovemaking had been surprising and a complete deviation from their plans to focus on the non-sexual aspects of their relationship for a while. Angel directed the blame for their indiscretion toward himself. Cordelia’s morning kiss had been more passionate than necessary, but he’d been the one to pull her back into his arms. To keep her there with kisses and to convince them both that what they were doing was still within the rules.

If Angel concentrated, he could still taste her on his tongue.

They’d broken their pact or at least gotten around the rules. It amazed Angel that his lauded control constantly failed him when it came to her. He’d started to believe that it was the same for Cordelia and that during the past couple of weeks they had only grown closer to each other. That she was starting to recognize the fact that it was safe to open up her feelings to him.

Then she’d gone and spouted that ridiculous theory that whatever they had together was only temporary. That she knew he would leave her.

Angel thought he had convinced her otherwise, though the idea itself was bizarre and seemingly came out of left field. The way she’d kissed him this morning gave him no time to ponder anything except the fact that he wanted her. Now, he realized that Cordelia’s passion was somehow spawned by those fears.

Realizing this, Angel had attempted to call her on her cell phone. No answer. Figuring she was still in class and knowing that Cordelia had made a habit of contacting him during one of her afternoon breaks, he’d waited somewhat impatiently for the call to come.

It didn’t.

Cordelia was either mad at him for the rule-breaking love-making and not answering his calls or there was something else going on. The reason didn’t matter, just his gut reaction telling him something was wrong and prompting Angel to head to the school through the Sunnydale sewer system to confront her directly.

Only she wasn’t here either.

Angel knew there was no cheerleading practice this afternoon and as the time suggested that the last class was still in progress, he knew the Scoobies had their study hall scheduled with Giles. During this last part of the year that also included Cordelia and so Angel was surprised that she wasn’t amongst the squabblers circling the two strangers in their midst.

“This is impossible,” Buffy’s voice carried over the rest as she faced Giles. “Tell me how this…this…person is not a total fake. I am the only Slayer here.”

“Get a grip, B,” the curvy brunette let out a short laugh. “I’m a Slayer just like you. Only less whiney.”

Surprise registered as Angel listened in, but then he recalled having an up-close and personal run-in with Kendra the Vampire Slayer. This wasn’t exactly a first despite Buffy treating it that way.

Exasperated after a long period of trying to explain the presence of another Slayer and her Watcher here in Sunnydale, Giles whipped off his glasses from the bridge of his nose and glared at Buffy. It always helped to be stern with her when the world looked a little fuzzy as it blurred the hurt showing in her expressive eyes.

“This is rather complicated. A new Slayer is called only when the previous one has died. Your momentary death at the hands of the Master called Kendra and thus when Kendra was killed by Drusilla, the line continued…with Faith.”

Willow piped up trying to sound positive, “This is kinda cool, Buffy. It’ll almost be like having a sister around. You could, y’know do things like hang out, go to the Bronze and patrol toge—”

Her voice trailed off as Willow realized she was describing things that she did with Buffy. After that, the redhead decided maybe it wasn’t so cool after all. “This is just a visit, right? You’re not staying.”

“Actually, I believe that was the plan,” informed the girl’s Watcher.

Angel noted the fact that he looked a little young to have gained that status. Not to mention the fact that the suit and bowtie made him look like he’d stepped straight out of an English prep school.

“Faith’s last Watcher was unfortunately killed by the demon Kakistos. Having left Boston—,” he cleared his throat drawing a smirk from his Slayer, “Faith made her way to Los Angeles where I was sent to track her down. Knowing we were so close to the Hellmouth it seemed an appropriate time and place to continue Faith’s training.”

“You let your Watcher get killed?” Xander gave the girl a harsh look thinking that he’d scored a point for Buffy who was obviously sensitive about no longer being the only Chosen one— again.

Buffy only blushed furiously and muttered a reminder, “Giles is my second Watcher.”

Giles tugged at his collar and replaced his glasses. “Um, yes. Watcher duties are often dangerous. There are always risks.”

They started in on a discussion about why Giles had not been informed of Faith’s existence when Angel finally decided that he’d heard enough. No matter that this was an interesting turn of events, it apparently had nothing to do with the reason Cordelia was suddenly not responding to his calls.

He’d heard enough whining. Angel wanted answers and planned to get them.

Stepping out of the shadows, Angel approached with his usual undetectable footfalls. Closer now, the brunette Slayer’s head turned in his direction sensing his nature as instinctively as only one of her kind could. Before anyone else noticed, Faith whipped out a stake from her back pocket and lunged toward him.

Angel sidestepped, grabbed her wrist and whirled her around so that her own stake was pointed at her throat. Gasping at the swiftness of the vampire’s move, Faith felt a little thrill at the danger she’d just managed to get herself into. Not that she was going to let the vampire stop her from dusting him, but it looked like tall, dark and hottie definitely had skills.

“I’m not here to fight, Faith,” Angel growled in her ear surprising her when he said her name.

“Angel!” Buffy called out as she turned to see what was going on. She’d been so caught up in her own thoughts that she hadn’t even sensed he was in the room.

“You know this vamp?” asked Faith still being restrained.

Buffy nodded. Then she told Angel while her inflection indicated that she was also talking to Faith, “You can let her go. She won’t hurt you.”

Even Faith had to admit the blonde was making assumptions. “This is a vampire. We slay vampires. That’s the job description, B.”

“You’ve got guts saying that with a stake to your throat,” Angel admitted just before he tossed her forward. “I just don’t have time or the patience to play games.”

Before Angel could demand information on the whereabouts of his mate, the girl’s Watcher stepped forward, “I am Wesley Wyndham-Pryce of the Watcher’s Council and you, I believe, must be Angelus.”

“This is soul-vamp?” Faith gave Angel a long look up and down the length of his muscular frame. “Can’t tell by looking.”

“You know about Angel?” That didn’t settle well on Buffy’s stomach. It was doing flip-flops at the news. Even after all that had happened, she still felt responsible for him.

Wesley explained, “I have access to the Council’s extensive library. I find the study of certain vampires and demons fascinating. Knowing I would be coming to California and bringing my Slayer to the Hellmouth, becoming reacquainted with Angelus’ file seemed appropriate.”

“Name’s Angel,” corrected Xander. Hearing the other always gave him the wiggins.

Then Willow added for good measure, “He’s a champion now, not evil or in need of staking.”

The young Englishman was interested at the way Buffy Summers and her friends defended the vampire who was once the Scourge of Europe. There were hundreds of questions taking form in his head and he imagined himself writing a paper on it.

Before the first syllable finished forming on Wesley’s lips, Angel cut him off with a stern glare. “I don’t have time for interrogations unless it’s the one I’m conducting.”

Wesley looked depressed at the news and lack of cooperation. “If you will just take a moment…”

“We’ll start simple,” Angel ignored him and turned his attention to Rupert Giles who had a look of deep concern on his face. “Where is Cordelia?”

~*~

Hours earlier…

Attached to the towering high rise containing the corporate offices of Melmon Realty & Development, the multilevel garage was already quite full despite that it was still early in the business day. Cordelia parked her Corvette in a visitor slot and quickly made her way to the corporate suites situated at the top level of the building. She’d called ahead using the number from her dream and made an appointment to see the head of the company.

Cordelia thought it strange that the CEO of what was apparently a successful realty company would agree to see her on such short notice. By some bit of luck, Robert Melmon’s assistant had stepped away from her desk on some random task and the man himself had deigned to pick up the phone.

Then he’d surprised her again by recognizing her name. Apparently Mr. Melmon was an old college buddy of her father’s. They’d lost touch years ago when the kids were still in diapers, but since Cordelia was an uncommon name, he took a chance and asked if she was related to Daniel and Emelia Chase.

Coincidence? Pfft!

“Why should I be surprised?” Cordelia talked to her reflection on the way up in the mirrored elevators. “It’s fate. It’s that trio of interfering, conniving…”

The elevator dinged and the doors slid open. Cordelia immediately put a smile on her face and stepped into the plush surroundings. Mr. Melmon apparently did very well for himself. The receptionist didn’t keep her waiting very long and showed her to the private offices of the Chief Executive Officer where Cordelia was greeted like a long lost niece instead of a total stranger.

“You remind me of your mother,” grinned Robert Melmon as he enveloped Cordelia in a beefy-armed hug. “Though I think I see some of Daniel in those eyes of yours.”

Cordelia wasn’t really here for reminiscing, though it certainly made getting down to the point of her business a lot smoother. Innately, Cordelia knew that Robert Melmon had the answers she was looking for.

Melmon’s company had some link to her nightmares. The Moirae brought her here, she had come to realize. What else could it be? The whispered voices that knew so much. Warnings of danger. Knowing Angel would heed the call to follow it to its source and by doing so separate them forever. He would leave her and Cordelia could not stand for that no matter that it meant crossing paths with destiny.

Determined, Cordelia knew the man with the answer to saving Angel and their future together was sitting right in front of her. All it took was finding the right question.

“You said this was an emergency,” Melmon prompted when Cordelia seemed lost in thought. “Daniel looking to sell the family estate?”

“No,” Cordelia actually found herself laughing at that prospect. There was a time not too long ago when that might have been necessary. “This actually has nothing to do with my parents. My…fiancé mentioned something about this company’s involvement in a property he’s interested in.”

Robert Melmon wasn’t certain how that constituted an emergency, but he was willing to listen. Though he could’ve sworn Daniel Chase’s daughter was a little young to be mentioning fiancés and property in the same breath. “Which property is that?”

Here’s where Cordelia’s spontaneous idea went up in flames. Melmon told her that his company dealt in buying, leasing, selling and development of properties all over California. “We’ve been in business for eighty years right here in Los Angeles.”

“I was hoping to catch a glimpse of the place he was looking at,” Cordelia fabricated.

Seeing her hopeful expression, Melmon tapped his thick fingers on the surface of his mahogany desk and gave a shrug. “I want to help you, Cordelia. All I can do from my end is give you a list of the properties we have in development and those that are currently on the market.”

“I’ll take it,” Cordelia readily agreed.

“We have over a hundred properties on that list,” came the warning.

Though her jaw dropped a little, Cordelia decided she’d look at every damn one of them to see if something would connect with the nightmares. As he tapped on his computer keyboard, Melmon got another idea. “If your fiancé has been in contact with my staff, he might be listed as a client. That would narrow the list down to the properties he’s been viewing.”

Cordelia gave him the name Angel D’Aurelius despite knowing that Melmon would come up with a blank. What was she supposed to say to the man? That the Fates themselves were giving her nightmares that included instructions to call him? Not.

Taking the list he’d printed, Cordelia thanked him for his time and promised to pass on his message of hello to her parents. Once again, Melmon gave her a crushing bear hug that Cordelia had no choice but to accept. While he was patting her on the shoulder, she noticed a series of pictures on his office walls. Most were old black and white photos of various buildings she assumed had a connection to the company.

As soon as Melmon released her, Cordelia dropped the list onto his desk and walked over to the closest one. Without thinking twice, she pulled the frame from the wall and turned to him with a shocked expression, “This place! I know it.”

The building was one of Melmon’s favorites, but he hadn’t been back since his father shut the doors in 1979. “That’s the Hyperion Hotel. Built by my great-grandfather in the late 1920s with that California Spanish deco influence. It was a beautiful place once, but it’s got a history you wouldn’t believe. Also made it impossible to sell.”

“Just tell me where to find it.” Cordelia looked ready to take on the world.

~*~

“What do you mean Cordelia hasn’t been at school today?” Angel barked at Willow who’d just finished telling him that.

Backing up against the front counter, Willow gulped before answering. Giving a little air-quote, she told him, “I thought there were ‘reasons’ Cordy stayed home.”

“Reasons?” Angel’s dark expression was enough to remind her of the not-so-fun times with his former evil or psycho selves.

“You know,” she stressed with a waggle of her thin brows. “Cos she was with you, I thought. That’s why she didn’t come. I mean— not that Cordy’s comings and going are any of my business. I just thought you two had a breakthrough.”

Angel thought they had too. Now he was really starting to worry. Cordelia wasn’t at school and no one had seen her since she left the mansion this morning. He felt the knot in his stomach tighten at the thought that Cordelia might be in danger and he didn’t have a clue where to start looking.

“Who is Cordelia?” Wesley dared to ask.

“My mate,” Angel answered simply.

Faith jumped in with a suggestion, assuming Cordelia was also a vampire, “Maybe she got dusted.”

Her Watcher gave her a harsh look. “Not only is that rather insensitive, Faith, but if you’d thought about what you were planning to say before you opened your mouth, you might have considered that most vampires do not attend school, which suggests that Cordelia is human…or something else entirely. A form of demon, perhaps.”

Xander snorted, “If you saw Cordy’s form, you wouldn’t doubt she’s all human.”

That left Angel and Buffy glaring at him.

Giles rubbed the back of his neck, trying to focus on the fact that Angel was clearly concerned about Cordelia’s whereabouts in spite of the added confusion brought on by his younger counterpart and the Bostonian Slayer.

Full of questions, Wesley grabbed the opportune moment of silence to comment, “You— Angelus, Scourge of Europe and all humanity have a human mate. That is tremendously fascinating. Not to mention dangerous for your mate, I would assume. Considering certain contradictions in the aspect of an ensouled vampire’s being, that concept is…”

Angel pulled him up by the throat until only the toes of his polished shoes touched the floor. The action set off Faith who leapt toward the vampire while pulling out her stake at the same time. Seeing what was happening, Buffy threw herself at Faith and managed to knock the other girl down. They wrestled for supremacy as Angel made his fury known to the Englishman.

“Cordelia isn’t a concept,” Angel snapped as he tightened his grip just enough to let the other man know just how close to death he could come for mentioning his mate in a manner that displeased him. “She’s mine and in no way am I a threat to her.”

He dropped Wesley to the floor. Straightening his suit and tie, Wesley narrowed his gaze upon the vampire. Soul or no soul, the vampire was clearly still a danger, he concluded. One that would require closer observation and study.

With the realization that he was taking out his frustration and anger on a virtual stranger, Angel issued an apology, “I’m a little bit edgy right now.”

Buffy and Faith grudgingly rose to their feet and took up a stance facing each other, their eye contact unblinking. Until their Watchers called out their names drawing their attention. The two teens walked over to stand by their mentors.

With a deep sigh, Giles suggested, “This is not a time for over-eager curiosity or hot-headed reactions. I suggest we start looking for Cordelia systematically.”

“Good idea,” Wesley nodded while holding a hand to his sore neck.

Then Giles added as the younger man spurred his irritation, “Angel, next time you want to rip my colleague’s head off, please do so outside the library. You know how I hate cleaning up the mess.”

Angel grunted an acknowledgment as if he would consider it in the future. He was too busy racking his brain trying to come up with a reasonable explanation for Cordelia’s sudden disappearance.

Seeing the vampire’s visible distress, Xander decided to take some action. “I hate to say this, but maybe there’s been an accident.”

The vampire’s dark head shot up, his eyes full of pain at the thought. “No. Surely the hospital or the police would’ve called me.”

“If they knew where to call,” Buffy pointed out. Then almost whispering, “If she was able to tell them.”

Xander picked up the telephone at the desk and dialed the admissions number for the hospital. It was a scary thing, he realized with a shock, that he had that number memorized. After making a couple of other calls, he informed Angel, “I guess this is good news. No sign of Cordelia. The police say her car hasn’t been reported as being in an accident and the hospitals say no one by her name or description has been admitted.”

While relieved in one sense, they found the news unsettling in another. It meant that Cordelia had vanished without a trace. Angel was pacing back and forth across the open space of the room looking like he wanted to tear the place apart just to let off some steam.

He stopped when Giles asked him, “Have Cordelia’s nightmares continued? Have they affected her behavior?” Obviously he was searching for any remote explanation.

“They’re worse than before,” Angel admitted. “I thought with our relationship getting closer that the nightmares would fade. That she would forget about losing Angelus and focus on me for a while. Last night, she said something that blew my mind. She said she expected me to leave her.”

Confused, Wesley cut in again, “Why are you referring to Angelus as someone else?”

He received several stares that suggested he’d once again moved into territory that was none of his business. Giles answered cryptically, “That’s what happens when a vampire crosses paths with Fate herself.”

Getting back to Angel’s concerns, Buffy queried in surprise, “Cor thought you’d leave her?” That made no sense after all that had happened. Even she knew that.

Faith suggested wryly, “She skipped town first before you could dump her.”

“I wouldn’t dump Cordelia,” Angel growled at the Slayer. Just her presence in the room was causing his demon instincts to crawl to the surface and the situation was only making it worse. “I’m in love with her and I’ll do whatever it takes to find her and bring her back to me. Are you clear on that?”

“Five by five,” Faith took an aggressive stance in front of him despite the warning.

“Angel,” suggested Willow cautiously, “if Cordelia did leave, do you have any idea where she’d go? Does she even have any money?”

He was about to say something about not letting his mate go around town like she was destitute when Angel remembered, “She has our credit card.”

Angel pulled out his cell phone and dialed someone up. The Scoobies recognized the fact that he was speaking in French and gave each other a few awestruck looks before waiting for him to get off the phone. “The bank says she’s used it twice. First to gas up the car right here in Sunnydale and next to buy a meal at some place called The Coffee Spot.”

“Where is that?” asked Xander hoping the news included an address.

“Los Angeles.”

Willow gulped, “L.A. is huge. How are we gonna find her there?”

It registered that his friends were trying to be supportive and Angel allowed himself a second or two to acknowledge that. Right before Buffy came up with a new idea.
“Maybe Cordy just took the day off to go shopping. That’s her cure-all, isn’t it?”

“Without telling Angel she was skipping school?” Willow doubted it. “Why isn’t Cordy answering her cell phone? This isn’t like her just to take off.”

Xander had to differ on that one. “It’s not? Being spontaneous, jumping the gun, putting herself in danger?”

“I meant being deceptive,” Willow countered, “but you’re right— she’s done this on the spur of the moment for whatever reason.”

Pacing again, Angel was lost in thought again. Must find her. So…L.A…where to from there? Where in L.A.? Start at this Coffee Spot. Then what?

“Willow!” His sudden move to grab her by the shoulders as he was passing by gave her a start. “Can you cast some kind of tracking spell? We could start at that coffee place. I might be able to follow her scent, but it’s already been several hours. Longer by the time we get there.”

“I’ll try,” she promised. “L.A. is so big that it could take time to track her down even with magick.”

Wesley knew that cutting in with another question could be dangerous considering Angel’s behavior so far, but having thought about Rupert Giles’ statement regarding the vampire and fate, he felt there was something to be explored in relation to this missing young woman and her nightmares.

“Mister Giles, I noticed that in your earlier comment, you personified fate. Were you simply attempting to confound me or is there a deeper message there?” Wesley asked for more details and to his surprise was offered up a tale that left him astounded.

As Giles revealed the basics of the whole Moirae deal, Angel attempted to keep a handle on his ever-thinning control. The young Watcher’s enthusiasm over Angel’s role as the chosen Champion of the Powers that Be and the fact that his entire life and death and unlife had been manipulated by the Moirae themselves to make it happen was too much to take. Wesley Wyndham-Pryce looked like he was going to explode from withholding his questions.

Finally, he could no longer manage it and Angel forcibly kept his hands in his pockets while the Englishman eagerly suggested, “Perhaps these nightmares you have described are not post-traumatic stress at all. What if they are in fact visions sent to Cordelia by the Moirae?”

“Visions?” Angel was suddenly listening.

Wes gestured with his hands as he spoke, “History and mythology frequently tell of humans receiving visions from higher beings including the Moirae. The Fates rarely involve themselves on the mortal plane and use other methods of communication.”

Giles had to admit that he hadn’t considered that notion. The fact that he had done so much research into the background of the Fates and their practices should have given him a clue. The realization stunned him and he was forced to reluctantly admit, “That is a brilliant suggestion, Wesley.”

“Thank you, Mister Giles,” a pleased grin came over the younger man’s face. “Where was I? Oh, yes. These nightmares could include past or prophetic images sent by the Moirae. If Angel is indeed their champion then it is likely that those closest to him, especially his mate, would remain tied to their plan, to his fate, his future, and to his ultimate destiny.”

Angel remembered the terror he’d sensed in the way Cordelia screamed his name each time the nightmares came. Through the haze of his worries, he heard Giles prompting him to tell them every detail he knew about the dreams. “It’s not much. Fear. Confusion. I’m there, or at least she says it’s me— leaving her. That’s all I know except that she wakes up at the same time each night screaming my name.”

“Every time? The same hour of the night?” Wes found that intriguing.

“No,” Angel clarified. “The exact same minute. Two-seventeen.”

As soon as he’d said it aloud, Angel made the connection. “Two-seventeen. It’s not the time that’s important, just the number.”

“I’ll bite,” Xander quipped. “What’s important about 217?”

“That was my room number at the Hyperion Hotel,” Angel revealed. “Wesley is right. This is dredging up my past and if Cordelia’s dreams have brought her to that cursed place then she is in grave danger.”

“What kind of danger?” Buffy asked already planning to kick its butt when she found it.

“The worst,” Angel’s cryptic answer came with a dark sneer. “Now I know why Cordy has been so distant, why she’s been paranoid about holding on to her memories of Angelus. When I get my hands on the demon that’s causing it, this time he’s going to die...painfully.”

The Scoobies gulped knowing that it was a vow, not a threat. Then the vampire told them, “I’m leaving for Los Angeles.”

Angel turned with a dramatic swish of his long leather coat, heading for the doors of the library. The sound of Buffy clearing her throat caused him to pause. He heard her ask, “Want a little help?”

~*~

Los Angeles, Approximately 11 a.m.

“Lost! I’m lost, lost, lost. You’d think the man who owns the building could give me proper directions,” Cordelia grumbled while steering into the parking lot of an old diner. She’d decided to stop for a bite to eat while figuring out her exact location. “At least I’m still in Los Angeles.”

Calling Robert Melmon again might be pushing her luck considering that he’d gotten her lost in the first place. Between his sketchy directions and several construction detours, Cordelia had been driving for over an hour after leaving the garage. Now she was frustrated as well as tired and hungry.

Not the best way to feel when the voices inside your head kept whispering that there was somewhere you needed to be.

The Coffee Spot was not exactly Los Angeles’ classiest place, but it was clean and looked to be popular. The early lunch crowd was already starting to filter in, so she locked her car and grabbed a booth near the back.

A gum-popping waitress took her order returning shortly with a glass of iced tea, a sandwich & fries and the yellow pages. Cordelia hoped to find a map of downtown L.A., but found it had already been ripped out from the front of the book. “Sheesh! People will steal anything.”

“Lost?” The question came from a man standing at the end of her table.

Cordelia wondered how the hell he knew that. She scrutinized his appearance from his neatly cut black hair downward. Brown leather jacket, red shirt, white undershirt and black pants were all clean and tidy enough if not exactly stylish. A dimple came and went as he flashed a smile, gazing at her like he’d found something precious he had misplaced.

“That is none of your business,” Cordelia decided the guy looked too eager to please. “Go bother someone else. Not interested.”

“You will be,” he answered cryptically while inviting himself to sit down on the other side of the booth. “And you’ll find that you’re very much my business.”

Incensed, Cordelia gave him a deathglare that would have packed a wallop at even at a hundred yards. Sitting back in the booth, he held his hands up against her fury even as he listened to her response.

“I may be new in town, but I’m not some low class hooker looking for a pimp,” she practically breathed fire across the table.

Gaping at her assumption, he shook his head, horrified that she’d taken his words entirely the wrong way. His Irish accent thickened as his panic level shot through the roof. “That’s not what I meant. You’re a high class girl, for sure.”

“What!”

“No, I didn’t mean that either,” he put his hand on her arm as she started to climb out of the booth. “Hear me out, Cordelia.”

The sound of her name on the stranger’s lips made Cordelia pause long enough to shake off his loose grip. “Who are you?” she demanded.

“Name’s Doyle,” he explained looking rather sheepish at having accidentally implied that she was a prostitute. This wasn’t how he’d imagined their first meeting. “I’ve been sent by the Powers that Be.”

Cordelia plopped down onto the seat again, scooting over to the middle of the booth. “Hopefully to give me directions.”

With a laugh, Doyle answered, “In more ways than one. Your little jaunt today is of great interest to them. I’m told it wasn’t supposed to happen this way. In fact, you are a year ahead of schedule.”

“Tough noogies,” Cordelia was too tired from having been awake all night to argue the case. “I’m doing what I have to do.”

“Be certain that you want to take that step, because once you do there is no altering the outcome. Not by the likes of us, anyway.” Doyle wondered exactly what Cordelia knew about the Hyperion Hotel and what she was about to face.

She remained quiet, sipping at her iced tea from a straw and looking determined. He could tell that some details were the order of the day. “It’s a little early, but let me tell you a bedtime story, Princess.”

Cordelia fought off a real yawn. “As it happens, I am kinda sleepy. Awake all night. So tell me, already.”

“Once upon a time, there was a vampire and he was the meanest vampire in all the land,” Doyle began and managed to cause Cordelia to blink as she realized whose story he was going to reveal. “Even the other vampires were afraid of him he was such a bastard.”

“I think I know this one,” Cordelia muttered, but let him continue.

Doyle did so without a pause, “Then one day he’s cursed by gypsies. They restore his human soul and all of a sudden he’s mad with guilt.”

“Let the brooding begin,” Cordelia nodded.

“He’s all… ‘What have I done?’ …he’s freaked.”

Yawning again, Cordelia looked a little bored. Doyle had to agree with her. “Yeah, well it’s a fairly dull tale. Needs a little sex is my feeling.”

Cordelia suddenly realized where the story was heading and scowled across the table at him, which only pursed her lips and made her just as beautiful if a little scary. He had a feeling this was not a girl to cross.

“So sure enough,” Doyle clapped his hands once, “enter the girl, pretty little blonde thing. Vampire slayer by trade. Our vampire falls madly in love with her and after a time the two of them get fleshy with one another.”

“Don’t think I like this story anymore,” Cordelia told him. “Certainly not this part of it. What’s the point?”

“I’m gettin’ there.” He dimpled grinning at her impatience. “A little perfect happiness comes along and our boy goes bad again; he kills again. So when he gets his soul back for the second time, he figu—”

Cutting in, “Figures it’s time for more brooding?” Cordelia asked.

“No,” Doyle gave her a sharp look. “You said you knew this. He figured it was time to secure that pesky cursed soul of his. No more worries about too much happiness.”

Her dramatic eye-roll was automatic. Cordelia knew he’d left out a few details, not that she really cared. She wanted to know what all this had to do with the reason she was here in Los Angeles.

“That’s when things start to get a little screwy.”

“If you ask me, that started when you sat down in my booth,” Cordelia huffed.

Doyle leaned forward across the table. “The PTB are a little peeved with their kinfolk right now. Seems the Fates have taken a close interest in their future champion and jumpstarted the program before the game was set to begin.”

Remembering that Doyle said she wasn’t supposed to be here for a year, Cordelia asked how he knew that. “The PTB told me that I’ve been chosen to act as the champion’s seer, which is to say they sent me some great splitting migraines that come with pictures…visions of the future.”

“Visions,” Cordelia mulled over the word. “My nightmares, are they visions from the Powers?”

“Not the Powers,” he shook his head and frowned. “The Fates themselves, perhaps. Or something else.”

Cordelia realized that she was caught up in the endless struggle that Giles had once described as being the Powers’ eternal game. “They sent you here to stop me?”

“Not really,” Doyle said to her surprise. “More to warn you that going to the Hyperion Hotel today will change the future.”

“I’m counting on it,” Cordelia rose from the booth facing him with a presence and air of self-confidence that bowled him over. These Powers were running scared if they’d called their seer into action just to warn her off. “As far as I’m concerned, the future isn’t written yet, no matter what the Moirae have to say about it.”

Not wanting to burst her little bubble, Doyle knew that the Powers and being like the Moirae influenced far more than humans or demons wanted to believe. Free will and blind luck got you so far and after that…some things were unavoidable.

“You’re off to the Hyperion without a clue of what you’ll be facing,” Doyle told her.

“Doesn’t matter,” Cordelia stated despite the fear that curled up in her belly at the notion of doing this alone. “Those nightmares…visions…fate-o-grams…whatever… they came to me for a reason.”

He didn’t doubt it, but Doyle had to make the suggestion, “Did it ever occur to you that the visions were intended to make the champion take action rather than you?”

Cordelia looked down with confusion. “To convince Angel to leave me? To find the Hyperion and— do what? My nightmares tell me the only thing he’ll find there is eternal suffering. That’s. Not. Gonna. Happen.”

“You’re terrified,” the Irishman’s black eyes rounded with the sudden realization. She had put on a brave front, but his other senses were telling him what lay beyond the surface. Not that he wasn’t right there with her on the fear front. “Fair enough. Who wouldn’t be… considering.”

”Don’t try to frighten me off, Doyle,” warned Cordelia fixing to walk out. “Maybe the vision didn’t come with detailed instructions, but I heard enough to convince me that I have to go.”

That caught his attention. “You say that you heard enough? The Fates actually spoke to you during the dreams? Directly?”

Shrugging, Cordelia huffed, “Pfft! No big. A lot of scary whispering. Overdone if you ask me.”

Despite the bravado, Doyle knew the experience rankled her. “Then I guess there’s no use to try to change your mind.”

“Give the guy a gold star,” she quipped. Then Cordelia put her hands on her hips looking like a defiant Amazon from Doyle’s angle adding, “This is something I have to do.”

Doyle grinned. He couldn’t help himself. She was so sure that she could do anything to beat this. If he didn’t know the outcome of the little bedtime story he’d spun, he wouldn’t mind making a play for her himself. The thought brought a little sadness to his heart without understanding why. If anything, he should be glad knowing that it was possible to love and be loved like Cordelia and her champion.

The PTB had given him a vision with multifaceted sounds and images of things to come. Creation of their champion vampire had changed the course of the future as known to them and they needed it back on track. Whatever was leading Cordelia to the Hyperion did so without their knowledge or consent.

The Moirae themselves possessed the power, but were rarely known to take sides in cosmic schemes. Doyle didn’t care about the politics, only that this beautiful girl was about to put herself in danger to save the man—pire she loved from something that hadn’t even happened yet. If she had her way, it never would.

“Have a seat, Princess,” he nodded toward the other side of the booth. “Finish your sandwich. We’ve a long day ahead of us.”

“Since when is there an us?” Cordelia tapped her fingers on her hips. The Irishman had come out of nowhere with cryptic warnings from the Powers that Be. Whether that was to stop her or help her seemed to be the question of the day. “Does that mean you’re tagging along?”

Taking one of the French fries from her plate, Doyle chewed and swallowed before answering. “I suppose it does at that. As for there being an ‘us’, we’ll just keep that between you and me when you introduce me to Angel,” he winked.

Cordelia slid back into the booth again breaking into a smile for the first time. After that Doyle looked a little mesmerized until she told him, “Just keep in mind that he’s the possessive type.”

“Can’t say as I blame him,” Doyle admitted readily. Turning serious, “Assuming we come out of this in one piece— and I’m not saying we will— there’s more than a game at stake. The PTB have a mission for their champion and I, for one, would like to be around to tell him what it is.”

~*~

Angel stopped before reaching the library doors upon hearing Buffy’s offer of help. He’d been about to charge off on his own thinking only of bringing Cordelia home safe and sound. This wasn’t as simple as saving the damsel in distress; he knew all too well what awaited them at the Hyperion. Besides, it was still daylight.

“Here’s what you need to know,” Angel swung back around and looked each one of them in the eye. “This isn’t your typical cemetery patrol. There’ll be no vampires to stake. The Hyperion Hotel is the den of a Thesulac demon and it’s powers will force each of you to face your worst enemy— yourself.”

Wes commented that he remembered reading something about Thesulacs, but could not immediately recall the details. The vampire barely paused to let him speak, “It’s a paranoia demon. Non-corporeal, it instills fear as it whispers to its victims, feeding on their innate insecurities.”

“Cordelia insecure?” A snort sounded from Xander which drew unwanted glares from a certain vampire. Angel’s concerns on he behalf were obvious, but Cor was a hard nut to crack. “Just saying she’s usually kinda confident.”

Giles pointed out, “Nevertheless, she is human and her recent personal experiences put her at risk. We will all be in danger going in there. Even Angel. Paranoia demons feed off emotions and there are none of us who can claim a lack of those.”

“Well I’m ready to kick a little ass,” Faith bounced up and down punching her fists in the air. Asking Wesley, “Can we go, too?”

Frankly, Wesley was not about to be left behind. He was exceedingly fascinated by the whole thing. “Absolutely. We must do what we can to help.”

Angel looked at the lanky Englishman. “Do you have any field experience at all or do you just study vampires and demons?”

“Well, it’s not all books and theories nowadays,” Wes flashed Giles a condescending smile. Then proudly informing Angel, “I have, in fact, faced two vampires myself. Under controlled circumstances, of course.”

Even Faith grinned. Her new Watcher was cute considering he was such a dweeb. All he needed was someone to break him in a bit. Faith figured she was just the gal to do it.

Giles drolled, “Well, no danger of finding those here.”

“Vampires?” Wesley glanced at the one standing directly in front of him.

“Controlled circumstances,” answered Giles.

Angel wasn’t blind to the territorial behavior of Buffy’s Watcher. It was something he completely understood. Still, he had to get everyone on track and chose to disagree with Rupert Giles.

“Then let’s control them,” Angel said as he informed the group about the demon, what to expect and precisely how they would go about killing it.

“This thingy doesn’t sound easy to kill,” Buffy commented upon hearing that it could neither be seen nor touched.

Wesley indicated, “There should be an incantation to make it corporeal, a raising ritual of some kind.”

“I had it once,” Angel admitted as he remembered his long walk down the Hyperion corridor. “I lost it during a lynching.”

“Deadboy has to keep reminding us that he was evil,” Xander automatically issued the dig. “As if we’d forget.”

Angel gave the teen a hard stare, clarifying, “My lynching. They put a noose around my neck and left me hanging from the hotel ceiling.”

“Eep!” Willow cringed at the mental image. “Good thing you were already dead.”

“Who did that to you, Angel?” Buffy was horrified at the thought. They were caught up in the revelation and no one, even Angel, thought of them as only secondhand memories.

He told her, “My fellow residents at the Hyperion Hotel.”

“I’m right aren’t I?” Xander asked. “The Hyperion is that creepy hotel Klotho showed us during our little Moirae-guided time-trip? Circa 19-whatever. The hotel she told us was more interesting than what we actually came to see.”

“That’s the one,” Angel nodded in confirmation. Realizing then, “You’re right. Klotho was hinting at something. To me. To Cordelia. All of us even then. Trying to say that the hotel was important. Dammit! The Moirae knew this would happen.”

Giles felt certain that there was more going on than just the influence of a paranoia demon. Still, it was best to take one problem at a time. Solve the immediate threat and them move on to the big picture. “Perhaps you’d better tell us everything that went on at the hotel.”

Angel gave them the abridged version. Even that left them horrified. Wesley gasped with morbid curiosity. “Did they shut the place down? What happened to the rest of the residents?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted as his jaw clenched and he swallowed reflexively. “I left them there after the lynching. All of them helpless. I told the Thesulac to take them. To take them all. Nothing would ever force me to set foot in that building again.”

Silence fell for a heavy pause until Buffy dared to say, “Except this. Now. Cordelia.”

She was the only thing he could think of that would ever make it happen, Angel realized. Just when he thought he’d found happiness, it looked like fate decided to deal one last blow wracked with agony and irony and pain. If anything happened to Cordelia…

Willow caught Angel’s attention, her hand on the sleeve of his jacket, “This was when again? The 1950s?”

“1952.”

The extent of his decision became clear as Willow realized, “You had a soul then.”

“With or without a soul, I have a lot to make up for,” Angel wasn’t certain that was possible. This was just a drop in the bucket compared to the amount of blood he’d spilled. “Tell me how that qualifies me as a champion to anybody.”

Wesley and Giles shared a look of understanding before the younger Watcher said, “So that’s what this is about— unfinished business.”

“Never doubt it, Wesley, this will be finished.” Angel had Cordelia to think about and that mean dealing with a problem fifty years in the making. “Here’s what we’ll need. You mentioned the raising ritual. Rupert, I need you to check your resources for an appropriate incantation.”

“Absolutely,” Giles answered, already moving in that direction.

Angel called after him, “I don’t suppose you have an orb of Ramjarin collecting dust on a shelf, do you?”

“No.”

Wesley held up a finger to catch the vampire’s attention. “I know of a place in Los Angeles that specializes in ancient crystals. I’ll give them a call. We can pick it up on the way to the diner.”

“Good,” Angel doubted that his original source was still there or that he had another orb. “We’ll also need some sacred herbs and divining powder.”

“Bingo!” Willow told him. “They’re at home, but we can stop lickety-split and I’ll have them.”

“What else?” asked Buffy now eager to get going.

Angel remembered the words he’d heard back in 1952. “Just something really big to hit it with.”

“Cool,” commented Faith. “Sounds like fun.”

Within a matter of minutes, Giles returned triumphantly. “I’ve found it. Just where I thought it would be.”

“Kleefaks Compendium of Spells?” Wesley asked interestedly.

He received a nod from Giles.

“I’ll cast the spell,” volunteered Willow before the two Watchers could say anything.

Angel declined the offer. “Rupert can do it. I have something more important for you to handle— if you think you can.”

Her large green eyes blinked as Angel described her appointed task. Willow nodded despite her nervousness and promised to try.

“Weapons locker.” Angel glanced at Giles who tossed him the keys. Opening it up, he took out two matched swords. Tossing one to each Slayer, he watched them catch the perfectly balanced steel, brandishing the swords in an equally flashy show while trying to size each other up.

Angel barely allowed himself a moment’s amusement at the sight. Then he grabbed Xander’s shoulder and nudged him in the direction of the locker, “Grab a weapon.”

Xander took out a machete while Angel picked up a heavy axe, wishing that it was his own. No time to go back to the mansion, though. They already had too many stops to make between here and the Hyperion.

Then Angel’s gaze darted around to the corners of the room as he realized that there was one other person missing from the group. Normally the werewolf was so quiet that he was easy to overlook. “Where is Oz?”

“You need Oz?” Willow asked then glanced at the wall clock. “He’s at band practice by now.”

“Get him,” Angel told her. “We need the van. Sunset is too far away to risk delaying our departure.”
 

~*~

“I think we’re driving in circles,” Cordelia complained to Doyle who was comfortably seated on the passenger side of her car. “Are you sure you know the location of the hotel?”

“Definitely,” Doyle assured her. He knew it all right. He’d promised to get her there. Not that he’d get her there quickly, though. All he knew was the Sunnydale cavalry was coming in a few hours and they’d need every minute to do…whatever it is heroes did to save the day.

Cordelia stopped at a corner and since there was no other traffic, turned to face Doyle. “We are definitely going in circles. I’ve seen this club before.”

“What? This place?” Doyle eyed the construction site thinking he’d made a mistake about taking her past this spot again. It wasn’t every day that dandily dressed demon club owners made an appearance out in the sunshine just to direct workers in the hanging of the marquee.

“Caritas,” Cordelia read the sign that was being placed over the main entrance. She noted the red horns, green skin and bright suit of the demon issuing the orders. Why should that surprise her? This was L.A., after all.

“Careful, crumbcake,” he called out to a beefy construction worker as he pulled on a rope. “That’s a very expensive sign. A little higher on the left.”

Cordelia gave Doyle another impatient look. He finally admitted, “We may have come by about half an hour ago. Cool place, this club. At least that’s the early buzz on the street. Demon karaoke bar that’s set to open next week, so they tell me.”

“Enough with the delay tactics, Doyle,” she sounded out a growl worthy of her mate. “Take me to the hotel now.”

”That’s really not a good idea.” The half-demon seer had been given enough of the panorama vision to know what was coming was not of the goof. Still, he gave in to Cordelia’s demands and they arrived at the gated entry to the hotel within fifteen minutes.

When they emerged from the car, Doyle looked around for any sign of another way of distracting Cordelia from this task, but found nothing. She popped the trunk of the car and pulled out a small club, which she handed to Doyle and took a sword from its scabbard for herself.

“Ah, what’s this for?” Doyle eyed the club in his hand.

“What do you think, dufus?” She rolled her eyes and headed for the front gate.

Looking horrified at the notion, he muttered, “No, no, no. I’m just the seer, ya see? Demon maiming and killing…that’s for the champions and the nutcases.”

Cordelia let out a, “Pfft! Which category are you putting me into?”

Well, he’d certainly walked into that one. Doyle suggested, “Neither one. You’re the brilliant girl who’s gonna realize any second now that it would be a far better idea just to wait right here.”

“I haven’t come all this way to quit or be turned away,” Cordelia told him as she reached for the handle on the iron-wrought gate. It didn’t budge. “Looks like it’s locked.”

“It’s a sign,” Doyle told her, grabbing her elbow and pulling her back toward the car. “No trespassing. Keep off the grass. No attempted breaking and entering.”

Wrenching her arm out of his grasp, Cordelia reached into her pocket and pulled out a set of keys. “I happen to have permission to be here.”

Doyle recalled her telling him about meeting with the development company CEO. Rotten luck, he’d call it, if he didn’t know it was more than that.

“Creepy hotel,” commented Cordelia as they entered the deserted, littered lobby covered with the grime and dust of sitting empty for the past twenty years.

Walking beside her, Doyle asked, “Bad vibes? Let’s go.”

“Too late,” she said softly as her ears picked up a distant whispering. Familiar, it was calling out to her. Then it was gone.

“What was that?” Doyle was looking around at every corner of the lobby holding his club out like he was lifting a torch to light the shadowy corners.

“Sheesh! Paranoid much?”

Gulping, Doyle realized that his demon senses were picking up those bad vibes he’d mentioned. “There’s something in this hotel.”

“Duh! Reason for the sharp, pointy weapons,” Cordelia swooshed her sword to show him what she meant. “I didn’t think I was here to meet Little Miss Muffett.”

“Well, you are in a way, don’t forget.” Glancing down at his dull, not-so-pointy club, Doyle suddenly wondered if she’d taken the better weapon on purpose. “What if I want the sword?”

“You’ll have to convince me you can handle it better than I can,” she commented, not bothering to tell him Angel hadn’t gotten around to that part of her training yet.

“Guess it’s the blunt basher for me,” Doyle frowned. Not that he wanted that either. His vision hadn’t explained what made the hotel so dangerous, but he’d felt the fear and despair Cordelia described to him. It had come from her, from him and from the woman somewhere inside these walls who saw her prison of torment as a haven of protection.

Cordelia was running on instinct and adrenalin. Her nightmares brought her here with no explanation of the details, only speaking of danger and eternal suffering. When Doyle spoke of the old woman in his vision, she felt relieved that there was actually going to be someone to confront. Doyle seemed to think she was a victim, but how could she know that his visions were accurate?

The more she thought about it, her doubts seemed to grow. “Let’s start at the top and work our way down,” Cordelia told Doyle.

They conducted a room to room search. Arriving on the second floor, Cordelia found herself standing in front of room 217. The numbers stood out as glaringly as a neon sign as she gripped the door handle. Giving Doyle a meaningful look, she whispered, “I think this is it.”

With a gulp, Doyle nodded and held his club at the ready. Cordelia threw open the door, leapt into the room holding her sword in front of her. “Hah!”

After a long pause and a glance around the room to confirm it was empty, Doyle told her, “Nobody home.”

“That’s weird,” Cordelia frowned, lowering her weapon as she turned to face him. “I could’ve sworn there was something important about this room.”

“Why?”

“Two-seventeen,” she explained, “is the time I woke up from my nightmares.”

Doyle shrugged. “Don’t ask me, Princess. The PTB weren’t overly generous with the details when they sent me to find you.”

“Think they’d share the important stuff, wouldn’t you?” Cordelia rolled her eyes in exasperation. “Like exactly where the helpless victim is holed up.”

“They can’t do it all,” Doyle found himself defending the higher beings who’d chosen him as their seer. “Something has to be left up to us mortals.”

“Pfft!” Cordelia strode back into the corridor. “Why can’t they leave it all up to us? If they’d mind their own business, we’d be just fine, but noooooo, they have to stir up trouble and interfere with lives and don’t care who they hurt along the way.”

“They’re the good guys,” Doyle reminded her following along. “Fighting the Good Fight, and all.”

Cordelia opened the door to the next room, forgetting that she was still facing Doyle. “We fight the fight. They just sit in the director’s chair and try to call the shots.”

Caught up in their discussion, neither Cordelia nor Doyle noticed the room they just entered had an occupant until a voice sounded in their ears, “I’ve been waiting such a long time.”

The deep male drawl sounded in a tone that made Cordelia think of Southern Fried Chicken and Used Car Salesmen. Whirling around, she saw only the frail outline of an elderly woman sitting in a wing-backed chair by the window. She was staring at the two intruders with fear and a hint of hope in her eyes.

“I’ve been waiting such a long time,” her soft voice sounded hesitant. “Is it safe to go outside now?”

Cordelia and Doyle stared at one another, both thinking they had heard another voice before the woman spoke to them.

“Did you—?”

“I thought I—.”

Breaking off, they put it down to nerves and decided to focus on the woman instead. They lowered their weapons, not wanting to appear as a threat.

“Are you Judy Kovacs?” asked Cordelia with a glance at Doyle for confirmation of the name.

The use of her name on a stranger’s lips caused the woman’s eyes to turn suspicious instantaneously. “Who are you? You’re not here because of—?” she couldn’t even say it after all these years of fears and self-doubt.

“Cordelia and Doyle,” she answered with a smile of encouragement. “We’re not here to hurt you. We’re friends.”

A look of sadness replaced suspicion. Judy told them. “I thought I had a friend once. Tall and handsome. Someone to protect me from the world.”

“Wonder who that could be,” Doyle gave a wry look.

“Angel was here in the fifties and hasn’t been back since as far as I know,” Cordelia told him. “Ya think this woman been here that long? In a deserted hotel.”

Doyle gluped and glanced around the room again as low, imperceptible whispering sounded from the space around them. “Maybe it’s not so deserted as we thought.”

The low sounds suddenly made sense and Doyle turned toward a corner of the room. “Yes,” he said for all visible means of detection to the horrid wallpaper. “I am. No, I won’t. I won’t… I will?”

The fact that Doyle seemed to be talking to the wall might have been something of a concern to Cordelia. Unfortunately, she was suddenly focused inward and hearing the voices from her nightmare return. Doyle walked out the door leaving the two women alone, neither of them moving, too caught up in their own thoughts to take notice of his departure.

“You’ve found my tasty treat,” the whispers became fully audible. “So delectable, but wearing around the edges. Another year of this and there would be nothing left to dine upon. Now that you’re here, it’s time for the next course and that’s always a thrill.”

Cordelia’s immediate reaction was the return of the terror she’d felt in the dreams. It kept her frozen to the spot even if her acerbic tongue remained unaffected, “Cordelia Chase is nobody’s happy meal.”

The demon’s laughter filled the room drawing a screech from Judy who cowered in her chair. Some days the voices were soothing, almost fatherly as they convinced her to remain safe inside the hotel. Others brought only further doubts and a surety that danger remained and that leaving would result in her worst fears. It wasn’t just the money she’d stolen. Not anymore. Not since 1952 when she’d accused the man from 217 for crimes he did not commit and got him killed.

“That’s where you’re wrong, luscious one,” the Thesulac told her. “I’ve been feeding off your fears for ages now. Ever since I caught a whiff of them during the time of the vampire’s residence and this one’s youth.”

“The fifties?” Cordelia’s confusion sounded until she realized that it had to do with the Moirae’s time trip down memory lane. They’d been non-corporeal, not truly in the sphere of reality, Klotho had told them. Apparently close enough for a demon to sense them. “I was across the street. You could tell?”

Conversation was the Thesulac’s strength and a weakness, for it enjoyed the little debates that it’s victims often made as he spoke to them. Explaining that its mental tentacles reached out beyond the scope of his physical environment to draw victims into its den, the demon did not bother to hide the fact. Watching her face as it told Cordelia of the mental link formed between them at that moment and the resulting angst it caused was equivalent to whipping up a satisfying snack.

Mmm, mmm, good!

“He was with you then,” the demon reminded. “Your thoughts, your concerns, your deep fears all focused on him. I almost had you then. You nearly came to me. Then you were gone.”

The irritation at the loss of its meal came across as shouted white noise, like a blank television channel with the volume turned all the way up. Cordelia covered her ears after dropping her sword to the carpet. The action failed to stop the whispered words from getting through.

Cordelia had no idea how the demon had found her fifty years and a hundred miles away. Upon her asking, it returned smoothly, “You found me.”

“Did not,” Cordelia snapped back. “Why the hell would I ever come looking for you? Except for now, obviously, and it’s not like I’m planning to stay— just telling you to leave Angel alone.”

“Ha, ha, ha, ha,” the deep chuckles left her shuddering. “What led you into my den, luscious one? Your mind, your thoughts, your very being turned to me. Focused here upon the threshold of our future, renewing bonds you never knew existed.”

“We have no future, buddy.” If the Moirae sent her the dreams as a warning or even, as Doyle suggested, a message for Angel, they also managed to activate the psychic connection made by the demon. She had no idea what kind of demon it was; only that it kept referring to her as its next meal.

That was never a good thing according to Cordelia’s Handbook of Hellmouth Survival.

The Thesulac found her amusing, such a mixture of tasty emotions ripe to devour. In truth, she might provide an excellent replacement for his aging tasty treat, but there were other things to consider. This luscious one would give him a quick boost before the main course arrived, one that would keep him filled up for eternity. The one he’d allowed to escape having stirred the hotel residents into a murderous frenzy.

“Your mate will fall into the web of your own making,” the demon informed Cordelia. “When he finds your cold, lifeless body and climbs into the pit of despair from which there is no escape, he will be mine.”

“No!” Cordelia’s anguish resonated as she realized that Angel would figure out a way to find her. Once here, he would fall into the demon’s trap and it would be her fault for leading him here. Was that the Moirae’s warning all along?

“If there was ever a soul marred by angst and pain, it was that one,” the Thesulac made a sound of pleasure anticipating what was to come.

Cordelia felt sick and as the seconds ticked by she fell deeper and deeper under the influence of the Thesulac.

Time passed unnoticed by Cordelia as the demon held her in its thrall. Judy sat as unmoving as a statue in her flowered dress and faded sweater while Doyle wandered the halls searching for something he’d lost. Preying upon their fears and doubts, the demon tugged at every emotional thread he could identify searching for the one that would give him the most in return.

Until it stumbled upon the one thread that led the demon astray.

Attempting to prey upon Cordelia’s innate doubts about her feelings for her mate, about the conflict she felt regarding the parts that made up the whole vampire versus the sum whose essence surpassed the parts, the Thesulac reached deep into her mind expecting to find the worst of her pain of loss and suffering, but found only love and the confidence that came with the unwavering belief in its existence.

If there was one thing Cordelia knew with certainty, it was that Angel loved her. No single doubt of that fact could be traced. Even with her fears of him leaving, which she now realized were caused by this demon, they were never about him not loving her. They were all about her being afraid to lose him like she’d lost Angelus.

Except that she hadn’t lost Angelus. Not completely. Only now with the Thesulac’s voice in her head did Cordelia realize how many things it had used against her. Any doubt or concern, any small insecurity had opened her up to it’s influence. Even to the extent that it warped her acceptance of her true mate.

“Tell me anything,” she called out to the incorporeal demon, “but don’t bother trying to convince me that Angel’s not in love with me. As for me loving him, buddy, don’t even go there. That’s why I’m here, dumbass.”

Silence came as her only answer, muted rage that thickened the air in the room with its nearly palpable presence.

Cordelia grabbed her sword from the floor, pointing it in front of her and moving into a defensive position in front of the old woman who looked to be slowly coming out of a stupor. Still hoping the demon would show, Cordelia called out, “Do you even have an ass?”

She suddenly sensed a change in the atmosphere, no longer feeling the demon in the room. Since the whispering had stopped, Cordelia wondered if it was something she said or if the demon had simply gone off to look for Doyle who seemed to have vanished. Turning to Judy, she explained that she needed to look for Doyle, but that she would be back to help her. “We’ll get out of this, I promise.”

Dashing out into the hall, Cordelia immediately found the seer who was coming in her direction. Doyle explained that he’d been looking for some physical sign of the demon and was in no way hiding from it in one of the empty rooms. “Pfft! Like I’m supposed to believe that? This demon guy is invisible, intangible and also not looking to be easy to kill. Somehow, it tricked me into coming here and thinks it can get its mental hooks into Angel.”

Between the two of them, they guessed that the demon had piggybacked into the dreams given her by the Moirae as a warning. “It’s been feeding off my emotions ever since the Moirae merged Angelus and Angel, exaggerating my concerns and doubts.”

“That’s why I’ve been so damn confused,” Cordelia told him. “Missing them. Loving Angel. I’ve been pulled in two directions because it’s been preying on my emotions; I don’t like playing the victim.”

Doyle muttered, “We’ve got to stop this.”
 

“Careful, Doyle,” Cordelia warned him, surprised at the sudden determination to beat their foe. “I might start thinking that you want to be here.”

“Who, me?” Shaking his head, Doyle clarified, “I meant we needed to stop talking and get that old lady and ourselves the heck out of here.”

Between the two of them, they managed to convince Judy to leave with them. Doyle felt certain that it was because the demon was not in the room whispering to her not to trust them. Even before arriving at the top of the stairs, they heard a commotion down on the lower level. Voices filtered up from below and the closer they got to the landing, the more confident Cordelia became.

Angel was here, but he hadn’t come alone. While there remained a thread of concern over his safety, Cordelia knew to blame the demon for it and felt a growing sense of confidence that the future she’d seen in the nightmares was a dwindling possibility. There was nothing they couldn’t beat together. Besides, she had a few things to say to her mate and no nasty demon was going to stop her from doing it.

Still here or not, the creature no longer had any power over her that she didn’t give it. Unfortunately, that didn’t apply to everyone else. As far as Cordelia knew, Angel had no idea that he was walking into the demon’s trap. That didn’t change her instantaneous reaction upon seeing him at the bottom of the stairs.

Having just finished issuing last minute reminders to the group, Angel had turned to head up to Room 217 where he felt certain he would find Cordelia. Then suddenly, she was there at the top of the steps. His mind registered the fact that she wasn’t alone, but he was too focused on the fact that she was alive to look any closer than that.

“Angel!” Her face glowed with the brilliance of her smile as Cordelia caught sight of him. The vampire raced up the stairs at an accelerated speed and then stopped on the step just below the top. Face to face, they simply stared into each other’s eyes for endless seconds before he breathed her name on a ragged sigh of relief.

A short, intense kiss followed summing up all of their feelings in one brief moment until both pulled back. This wasn’t the time for passion. Danger remained and the safety of everyone was at risk.

“Explanations later, champ. There’s a demon running loose,” Cordelia warned. “We have to get Judy out of here.”

The name caused Angel to focus on the old woman. She was staring at him while a dark-haired man supported her with an arm around her waist. Deep wrinkles marred her familiar face, but it was the eyes he recognized still full of fear and reflecting the darkness of decades past.

“Judy?”

From the look on Angel’s face, Cordelia could tell the seer had been right about the woman. Judy Kovacs had been at this hotel for nearly fifty years under the influence of the faceless demon. It seemed clear by the shock registering in his dark eyes that Angel never suspected to find anyone from that time still at the hotel, especially her.

“Is it really you?” Judy asked with awe despite her confusion. It was like looking back in time and seeing him exactly as he was half a century ago. Before her actions got him killed. “You’re alive? Not a ghost come to haunt me.”

“No ghost,” Angel shook his head. “Later, after we get you to a safe place, I’ll tell you everything.”

“I’m safe here,” Judy looked back toward her room. “He told me so.”

Angel gently cupped her shoulders and tried not to shudder at the skeletal sensation of her bony frame under his hands. He was responsible for this, he knew. “Trust me, Judy. I have to ask you to trust me.”

She looked hesitant. After all, she’d trusted him before and that had only gotten him lynched by an angry mob. Looking at the kind expectant faces of Doyle and Cordelia, Judy nodded her assent.

“Let’s get her downstairs,” Angel told the others. He picked up the frail woman and carried her down to the ground level. Calling out to Oz and Xander, he decided that it was safest just to get Judy out of the building.

Cordelia accepted Willow’s enthusiastic hug and acknowledged the others’ relieved looks with a smile, but it looked like everyone was busy doing something, she saw. Even Willow didn’t take time to pepper her with questions about what she had done. Xander was all seriousness as Angel transferred Judy into his arms.

“These are friends,” Angel explained as he quickly introduced the two guys. Meaning every word and needing her to know that, he added, “I’d trust them with my life.”

Judy’s eyes widened, constantly thinking back to the hanging, but she also felt a bit of hope upon seeing the sunlight filtering in from the glass-doored entryway of the hotel. She lifted a hand to Angel’s face and gave him a smile— her first one in over fifty years. “Thank you.”

While the vampire was occupied with seeing the demon’s victim to safety, Wesley and Giles were busy preparing for the raising ritual. The young Watcher held a container of divining powder mixed with sacred herbs and was sprinkling it in a specific pattern around the lobby.

“Cordy, you should go with Oz and Xander,” suggested Angel trying too obviously to get her as far from the danger zone as he could. “Make sure Judy is safe. We have a demon to kill.”

“Uh-uh, big guy,” Cordelia shook her head. “I’m not leaving you now.”

Doyle told them, “If they need a hand, I’d be willing to give it.”

Angel still had no idea who the man was, but until he knew for certain he didn’t want him anywhere near Judy Kovacs. No matter that he had been helping Cordelia with the old lady. “Stay. No telling what will happen here.”

“Then Cordelia and I will stand by. Guard the door in case it gets through the front lines,” Doyle told him.

“Yeah,” Angel liked that idea. It would keep Cordelia out of tentacle reach should his plan not work and things got nasty. “Do that.”

Cordelia gave Doyle an irritated look, but decided that she didn’t have all of the details. Obviously, Angel knew exactly what they were about to face and the gang had not only come up with a plan, but brought in two strangers to back them up. No time for questions now, she realized.

“Did you hear something?” Doyle asked her a couple of minutes later, just as Giles was opening up the compendium of spells to its bookmarked page.

“Ignore it,” Cordelia snapped. “That’s the demon. Trying to get your attention.”

“But—,” Doyle couldn’t ignore the doubts plaguing him. What if the champion failed? What if the demon won? What if…what if…what if…came the self-directed questions as he stared at the goings-on.

Cordelia nudged him with her elbow, tired of hearing his muttering. “Shut up.”

“Hey,” the Irishman suddenly pointed in Buffy’s direction. “Is that who I think it is?”

“Shut up, Doyle,” repeated Cordelia.

A state of enhanced apprehension tensed each one of the group concentrating on the tasks assigned to them. Each of them felt a growing fear stemming from even the tiniest of doubts of their success. The demon dug a little deeper, latching on to other thoughts and whispering into their minds ideas that seemed to turn insecurities into certainties.

Seeing the group faltering in their efforts, Angel shook off his own doubts reminding them what they were facing. “It is the demon. Don’t listen. Just focus on your tasks.”

Giles’ voice rang out, “We call thee forth, Thesulac of the Netherworld. We command you, leave our minds and join us on this, the physical plane.”

He held out his empty hand toward Wesley who reached into a knapsack he’d been carrying. With extreme caution, Wesley handled the orb of Ramjarin, knowing that ancient crystals were extremely delicate. With the orb in hand, Giles continued the incantation.

“We invoke thee by the power of all the priests of Ramjarin,” he intoned. “What was once in our thoughts, be now in our midst.”

The air crackled with energy as the Thesulac phased into view. Its appearance drew gasps of surprise. None of them had seen anything quite like the creature hovering before them. Leathery grey flesh covered its form while blood red eyes mocked their presence despite their numbers and weapons. Its large humanoid upper body was cloaked in a hooded black robe, while the lower half consisted of numerous flailing tentacles.

Angel had his axe, Buffy and Faith their swords. Giles and Wes reached for weapons of their own now that the raising ritual was complete. No telling how the demon would react in its physical form. The tentacles alone made its appearance ominous.

Cordelia wondered what they were all waiting for. Normally Buffy would be all over the demon by now, flipping and quipping her way to kicking its ass. Angel would be carving his way up that very ugly demon torso and finding out just how loudly its bones cracked under pressure. She had no idea who the other chick was or why she reminded her of Buffy in the way she held herself, but Cordelia didn’t have to wait long to find out the deal.

Once Willow started speaking, it became apparent they were waiting for her to cast a spell. Cordelia gulped as fine strands of her hair started to float in the air as static electricity gathered. Then the witch raised her arms, lightning shooting out from her fingertips.

“Omigod!” gasped Cordelia as she watched the demon writhing and screaming as it disintegrated into a gray ash that drifted to the floor. She knew her friend had skills in the spell-casting department, but this elemental conjuring was something she’d never seen before. “Go, Willow!”

“Well that was a letdown,” Faith looked sad that there hadn’t been a fight.

Buffy had to agree. She turned to the other Slayer and started up a conversation about what moves she’d planned to use on the demon. Caught up in their own little ego-centric topic, neither one saw their Watchers rush to Willow’s side as the witch nearly fell to the ground.

“Whoa! Just a little dizzy,” Willow grinned giddily, her red hair still standing on end. “I did it! Hehe. Too bad Oz and Xander didn’t see me. They’d be so proud.”

As Willow plopped down on the circular lobby couch, a cloud of dust poofed in the air. Wesley waved his hand in front of his face to clear it, hacking loudly. Ignoring the noise, Giles simply told Willow, “I’ll be proud enough for both of them.”

Doyle leaned against the edge of the front desk looking from group to group with a satisfied smile on his face. Now that the danger was over, he could relax a bit. For the moment, anyway. There was still work to be done here, he thought as his gaze turned toward the Power’s champion and his beautiful mate.

Lots of work, but telling them that could wait a few minutes. At least until they came up for air, Doyle told himself as he watched them kissing. As soon as the demon was gone, they’d dropped their weapons and made a beeline for each other meeting up at the midpoint of the lobby.

He gulped in awe at the sight thinking he’d just jumped into the live version of his vision. Doyle had a feeling that dealing with these two was going to be an awful lot like living with free cable. As a dimpled smirk appeared on his face, Doyle figured he would somehow manage to get used to it.

As Cordelia sucked in a little gasp of air, Angel rested his forehead against hers. “You aren’t leaving my sight for a long time, I hope you know.”

Her mouth quirked upward. “That goes for you too, champ.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t call me that,” Angel ground out rather seriously. “Willow saved the day. I’m no one’s champion.”

“Gotta give Willow the props,” Cordelia nodded. “She earned it. Though I’m betting it was you who got them here. I know that you’re the one who missed me, who found me and figured out what was going on.”

There was a low grunt of acknowledgement. “With their help.”

Cordelia realized he didn’t think that counted. Her arms were still around his neck until she pulled back to slide both hands over his chest. “There’s nothing that says a champion has to walk alone. You’re my champion, Angel. Not because you came to L.A. to rescue me, not because the Moirae say so or because the Powers have sent you a seer to make it happen.”

She nodded her head in Doyle’s direction at Angel’s look of confusion. They made eye contact for a moment and the Irishman gave him a brief salute from his spot at the desk.

“It’s because in spite of everything in your past, your heart is good and noble even though it doesn’t beat. Everyday you struggle to keep a balance between the man and the demon within you and I know that it’s not easy,” Cordelia admitted. “We all have our own kind of demons, I’ve discovered, like fears and doubts. Even the little ones can grow and fester until we don’t recognize the people around us.”

Angel’s hand covered hers as they covered his heart even as her words filled it close to bursting. It didn’t need to beat, he thought, certain that its cadence would match her own. Words failed him. He just couldn’t find a thing to say in the wake of what Cordelia had to say. Her utter confidence in him sounded clear as a bell and in the back of his mind, Angel wondered if it was okay for champions to cry.

Those pliant lips spoke nothing but truth and when Cordelia continued, Angel took it as an oath, “I love you, Angel. I love you so much that I ache with it and no demon, person or Powers that Be will ever stand in the way of that again.”

He read her heart in her eyes as they shimmered with tears. Angel’s voice cracked as he sounded out her name, “Cordy,” before claiming her mouth again.

Cordelia looped her arms back around his neck as Angel pulled her close using his large hands to sinuously follow the curve of her spine down to her hips. He held her there as kiss for kiss they met in perfect unison of love and need and passion until both became conscious of the fact that they were far from alone.

“Soul boy sure knows how to kiss,” Faith drooled at the sight of the increasingly hot scene at the center of the lobby. “Where do I sign up?”

Buffy glared at the other Slayer. If she was missing out— and Buffy reminded herself that this was partly her decision— then this attention-seeker certainly wasn’t going to imagine the opportunity existed. “Hello! Care to adjust your contact lenses? Since when is kissing vampires in the Slayer job description?”

From nearby, Giles cleared his throat rather loudly. Willow wasn’t certain if it was because of Buffy’s hypocritical comment or the fact that Cordy and Angel seemed to be under a state of permanent lip-lock.

Xander happened to rush back in through the doors and stop midstep upon catching sight of them. “Is there a kissing contest? Buff— wanna sign up?”

Moaning, Buffy turned red. They hadn’t told anyone they were officially dating. As he saw her reaction, Xander paused with an apologetic grimace and commented, “Looks like we won if this is the victory party.”

Reluctantly parting, Angel and Cordelia stayed close enough to curl one arm around each other as they turned to Xander. He told them, “Oz has Judy settled down. He’s so calm it was like they were communicating with their eyes. Kinda freaky. I bugged out to come help with the demon dude.”

“Willow killed it,” Cordelia explained. “One zap and he was toast.”

A gleeful gleep followed from the redhead. “I fried it,” she confirmed with a Cheshire cat smile.

Xander had to run over to hug her afterwhich Buffy had to run over to hug them both. Watching with raised brows at the sight of all the hugging, Faith asked Wesley, “Are you sure Sunnydale is the place for us?”

Sighing, Welsey promised, “We won’t be there forever, Faith. Just to give you some time training with Buffy and Mr. Giles. The benefits of their experience and my newer techniques will vastly improve your slaying skills.”

“Damn, all that hugging is not natural.”

“Think of it this way,” Wesley dedcided she could consider the other option. “There’s another Hellmouth in Cleveland. We could go there.”

Faith’s mouth dropped open. She’d never been to Ohio. Knew nothing about it. As far as she was concerned, it was about as far removed from New York, Los Angeles and Boston as the moon. “Sunnydale. Cool.”

With that, she sauntered toward Doyle who watched her swinging hips approach with a lump forming in his throat. He gulped as she gave him a long look commenting, “I’m Faith. You from Sunnydale?”

“No,” Doyle answered and then looking a little nervous at the prospect, “but I think I will be. For a while, anyway.”

Cordelia finally realized the connection after hearing the formal-looking Englishman speak. He reminded her of Giles, only stuffier if such a thing was possible. The girl had this whole Buffy vibe going on. Combined with the man’s comments, she came to the conclusion, “There’s a new Slayer in town?”

“Sore subject,” her mate gave a nod in Buffy’s direction. Cordelia tried not to smirk, but couldn’t stop herself from grinning. “On the way into the city she did look a little like someone who’d had her favorite stake taken away.”

“Mister Pointy?” Cordelia asked. “Wasn’t that the one she got from…?”

“Kendra,” answered Angel soberly.

Stepping up beside them, Wesley commented, “The lives of Slayers are often short. Kendra’s death called Faith to her duty and I would see that she meets it with honor. That is something you have shown today, Angel, duty and honor. Something I would have bet anything you knew nothing about.”

“I’ve learned some hard lessons,” Angel admitted.

Wesley nodded and then held out his hand to Cordelia in introduction. “You are the vampire’s lovely mate. Cordelia Chase, missing no more. I am Wesley Wyndham-Pryce, Faith’s Watcher.”

The corny formal greeting brought another smile to her lips as Cordelia shook his outstretched hand. Before she could answer, Wesley was telling her that he was exceedingly fascinated by her relationship with Angel and would be very interested in talking to her about it. From Angel’s low rumbling, Cordelia got the idea it would not be pleasant for Wesley to actually try asking questions.

So did Wesley. He gave the vampire another disappointed look and quickly changed the subject choosing to comment on their surroundings. “Amazing that this place operated for so many years under the Thesulac’s influence.”

“According to the Hyperion’s owner,” Cordelia told him, “strange things have been happening here since it was first built back in the 1920s.”

Wesley wasn’t really surprised considering the nature of the Thesulac and the stories Angel imparted on their way to Los Angeles. “For the better part of the last century this has not only been host to a malevolent demonic presence, but the very worst faces of humanity. This is a house of evil.”

Gazing around the lobby, Angel knew that history had finally come to an end. They had cleansed this place of the monster within and even he felt a weight lift off his shoulders. The Hyperion wasn’t evil. Angel shook his head, “Not anymore.”

Doyle stepped up in time to comment, “The place has definite possibilities.”

Turning simultaneously to the stranger, both Angel and Wesley asked with a hint of irritation at the interruption, “Who are you?”

Slapping Doyle on the shoulder, Cordelia told them, “This is Doyle, my trusty guide. Not so good with the directions, but since he’s been appointed by the PTB to help Angel with his mission, we’ll be seeing a lot of him in the future.”

“My mission?”

“Well, you’re a little ahead of schedule,” Doyle went on to say, “but that doesn’t mean the Powers can’t adjust the game plan.”

They talked for a while about helping the hopeless with Wesley finding everything about the idea exceedingly fascinating. The others stepped over, tired of being in the background eavesdropping. Angel looked a little shellshocked by the idea, but it grew on him so fast that even he couldn’t take it all in.

“Cordy,” he pointed out as if she hadn’t been there listening, “I have a mission. The PTB sent me a seer. Why do I need one of those?”

Doyle crossed his arms over his chest. “The Powers decide on the mission, they show it to me with one of their flashy little numbers and I tell it to you who goes out and saves those helpless types we’ve been talking about.”

“We knew you had a destiny somewhere, champ,” Cordelia rolled her eyes. “Looks like we needed to come to L.A. to find it.”

Angel liked the idea more and more. Los Angeles, City of Angels. It seemed…right, somehow. Fitting. Fated. He supposed it was after all.

Then frowning, Angel remembered, “You still have school.”

“Pfft! So we stay until in Sunnydale until graduation.” Cordelia told him. “There are surely a few helpless types back home to save.”

“You’d consider moving here? Leaving the mansion?” Angel wanted to be certain that this was something she would agree to.

Willow cut in, “There’s always the shopping.”

Laughing, Cordelia squirmed excitedly at the notion. “Not that shopping for great shoes isn’t one of my life’s ambitions, but my priority is you, Angel. If your mission is here in L.A., then so am I. End of discussion.”

They were staring, smiling and leaning closer again until Xander made a gagging sound that caught them off guard. “Still kinda dusty in here. Must be the demon toast.”

Cordelia looked around at the slightly hazy air and decided the seer had been right. The place did have possibilities. “Angel, what do you think about living here?”

“We need a hotel?”

Shrugging, she compared it to their sizable home in Sunnydale. “It’ll be roomy like the mansion. There’s what? Only a hundred rooms or so. That might be enough for your book collection and a training room.”

Angel gave her a little squeeze at the dig she’d made about his books. “I don’t need that much space. Besides, there are only 68 rooms here.”

“Plus, I know the owner of the development company,” Cordelia smiled. “Uncle Bob, as he’s asked me to call him, has been trying to off-load this place since he took over from his father. Bet we can get it cheap.”

“Sounds perfect,” Angel answered and Cordelia grinned having made up his mind.

Willow looked around the littered lobby now covered in a fine layer of powdery ash. “A little dusting, a few throw pillows… what’s not to love?”

There was one person in the room that was clearly not thrilled with the idea. Buffy looked hurt that Angel would consider leaving Sunnydale. It felt like desertion even though he owed her nothing. Even though technically this was not the same vampire she had loved and lost. She just didn’t like it.

“You’re really going to leave Sunnydale?” Buffy asked gripping Xander’s hand a little too tightly.

“Buff! Circulation!” Xander called out and then frantically flopped his hand around when she released it.

“Sorry,” she apologized automatically and then turned back to Angel awaiting her answer.

He thought about it for a while before responding. “Sunnydale has its champion in you, Buffy. Its Slayer. Now it looks to have a spare as well.”

Faith didn’t quite like that description and told him so. Then she really got into it when Xander jokingly suggested she and Buffy could be the female version of the Dynamic Duo.

“This is going to be an interesting adjustment,” Giles pointed out to his colleague.

Cordelia turned away from the squabbling Slayers as they argued over which one of them would take the lead on tonight’s patrol when they got back to Sunnydale. This timing seemed perfect. Too perfect. As if one warrior had been brought in to replace the other.

Fate steps in again, she realized wryly.

“Angel, do you think this is all just one big manipulation by the Moirae or the PTB?” Cordelia asked him. “Are we playing into their hands?”

Wesley practically leapt back into the conversation. “I find that concept exceedingly fasc—,” he let his words fade away as he sensed irritation with the interruption. The vampire’s mate apparently possessed the ability to silence a man with only a glance for he suddenly found it far more interesting to look than to speak; doing both took too much concentration.

Cordelia continued with her questions, this time including Wesley and Doyle as she asked, “Can these Powers be trusted? They’ve set Angel up as champion to a cause, but have they locked his destiny in stone?”

”I’d need time to study the issue,” Wesley answered honestly. Even then, he doubted that anyone except the Powers themselves could tell her. Not that they would.

With a shrug, Doyle reminded Cordelia, “I only know what they tell me.”

“The Moirae made a promise,” Cordelia reminded him. “Cooperating with them brings you a grand destiny. Sound familiar?”

“I know what they promised,” Angel smoothed his thumb across her cheek. “They have been purposefully vague during the meetings with Liam and Angelus and Angel. Promising, but never coming through with the details. Until we all appeared before them and they told me…or them, actually…that you’d be mine.”

Cordelia smiled at that now that her doubts were stripped away. “Angel, they’re you. I get that. Really, I do.”

Then Angel told her, “You are my destiny, Cordelia Chase. The Moirae themselves said so and I’ll hold them to that bargain. Beyond that, we’ll take the future as it comes… together.”

~Epilogue~ The Chase Christmas Party
 

Doyle watched the party from the balustrade above, a drink in his hand and a smile on his face. Guests of all sorts were milling about. Society people intermixing with the unsavory types like himself and Xander Harris. That lad was certainly the life of the party. As was Faith who certainly put a little excitement into most of the male population at the party when they saw her dancing earlier.

The past week had been full of interesting experiences for all, including himself as he moved into the mansion. Angel and Cordelia had brought the old lady along. The one from the Hyperion. Judy had nowhere else to go and felt safe with the vampire. She was now sitting near the fireplace which was roaring with a bright blaze despite the fact that the temperature barely warranted one.

Slowly coming out of her shell, Judy still remained confused about how Angel could be alive and still look so young. They were waiting for the right time to tell her about vampires. Angel told Doyle one day after their arrival back in Sunnydale that if Cordy hadn’t made the trek to Los Angeles and brought him there a year before he was supposed to be that he wasn’t certain the old gal would have lasted that long.

There were far too many happy vibes at the mansion these days to keep anyone in a brooding state, Doyle figured. A little too happy at times. He hoped Santa would bring him some earplugs for Christmas. Oh, to be back in L.A. in his downtrodden apartment with the ridiculously high rent.

A tap on his shoulder alerted Doyle that he was no longer alone. Turning, his mouth dropped open as he recognized just who the three women were supposed to be. The lack of holiday attire aside, facing the personifications of fate in their eternal guises of youth, maturity and age, Doyle made a lucky guess.

“You’d be the Moirae?” He asked them. “What are you three doing here?”

Lakhesis frowned momentarily at the lack of respect in the seer’s voice. “I could ask you the same question, but it would be redundant as I fated your presence here.”

“The Oracles warned me about you,” he decided to be up-front. “Does it matter that your ticking time bomb went off ahead of schedule?”

The old crone, stooped and bent as she reached out a gnarled hand for the banister, cackled a bit, “Time— there’s so little and so much of it.”

“So I’ve heard. Sounds familiar,” Doyle told her. “That doesn’t explain why you’re in the here and now gracing the mortal coil.”

“Celebration,” Lakhesis explained simply.

“Long have we worked on this project,” her sister agreed that it was time to pause in commemoration of their success.

Doyle glanced behind the two sisters as the youngest of them fiddled with something in the background. He couldn’t tell what she was doing and decided he didn’t care as long as the Moirae weren’t here to make trouble for their hosts or his friends. “Your vampire has the makings of a strong champion. I’m impressed and a little envious.”

He was down there in the midst of the crowd, standing with Cordelia as they were caught under a sprig of mistletoe. Clapping and wolf whistles abounded and Doyle let out a shout of his own telling them to cool off. He’d swear Angel had purposefully dragged Cordy to every random-hanging plant that remotely appeared green just to kiss his mate tonight.

They had an excuse, he supposed. Cordelia proposed just before they rang the front door to her parents’ house with Doyle and Judy standing there like gaping gleeful witnesses. The vampire’s answer had to be the fastest on record.

“Cordelia did the asking,” Doyle told the Moirae wondering if they knew all about it and somehow had a hand in the event. “Good thing since her mother seems to have planned this as an engagement party, almost like Cordy suspected it would happen.”

Atropos looked surprised and tapped her finger against her jaw. “I did not predict that.”

“Nor did I,” admitted Lakhesis, “but the result remains the same. The vampire has accepted the chosen path and the woman whose influence will guide him upon it for a time is at his side.”

Despite the number of drinks he’d already had to toast the couple, Doyle caught on to something she’d said. “For a time? Why does that make me nervous? They look happy enough. They certainly sounded like it last night.”

“Thus is the way with the Children of Fate,” Lakhesis shrugged it off. “Compatibility is never a problem when destiny itself is guiding their path.”

Doyle wasn’t about to let it go. “Wait a second there. You said only ‘for a time’. I’m not getting the ‘happy ending’ vibe. The Oracles were right. You three are trouble.”

Klotho popped up behind her two sisters, a conspiratorial smile on her face. “Relax, seer. Suspicious, much?”

“Well— yeah!”

Lakhesis looked a little suspicious herself as she glanced at her youthful sister, but told Doyle, “The future has many paths, seer, many branches and divisions where free will may make its mark. Some things, however, are simply fated to be. Born of my own plan none but a Moira can alter its course.”

“All ends with me,” Atropos spoke of that final certainty.

Pooh-poohing her sister’s doom and gloom approach to the future, Klotho gave him a hopeful look. “Do not despair, seer, for this is but the beginning.”

Tapping Atropos on the shoulder, she gave her a sheepish look as she said, “You dropped these.”

“I did not,” Atropos grabbed the scissors, the metaphorical representation of her true powers. Snatching them away, she shoved them into the deep pocket of her purple robes.

Lakhesis was quick to voice her understanding of Klotho’s actions, something that was completely lost on Doyle until the Moira accused her sister, “You’ve been cutting threads. Where is my tapestry? You’ve been at my tapestry.”

“Think you left it over there,” Klotho pointed to the long rectangular table hugging the wall.

Doyle hunkered back and watched the powerful beings arguing over Klotho’s actions. He had a strange feeling that they were allowing him to see this as if to make him come to some understanding.

The young, perky Moira with her bouncing and…bouncing leaned close to Doyle in order to reveal, “Atropos and I disagreed about the Champion’s destiny and our daughter’s fate.”

“Daughter? Oh, you mean Cordelia,” Doyle got it. They’d both told him the story of meeting up with these three on their home turf. The Fates were apparently big on calling everyone Child of This or That and Son or Daughter of Something.

Atropos actually poked her sister with her pointy fingernail. “Whiner! Let me deal with the ending.”

Holding onto Doyle’s arm now, Klotho said, “Our champion was to be the balance between Order and Chaos, Good and Evil. The Powers led him to his mission, but those who oppose them lay out their own plans. Such games have kept them occupied for eons. I do not like the outcome chosen.”

“What outcome?” Doyle dared to ask trying literally to shake off the hand of Fate.

Klotho let him go as she explained, “Lakhesis has spun a scenario not to my liking. A path of potential destruction leading to the end of days. One power shall be let loose on the mortal plane after the seer’s ascension. Loss and devastation will follow and while the Moirae do not take sides in such matters, we do remain connected to that which we have guided into being.”

Having stalled back at the previous statement, Doyle muttered his confusion, “Seer’s ascension. Am I missing something?”

With a sigh, Lakhesis assured him, “Not you, Child of Order. A seer you may be, a hero shall you become, but to power never will you ascend.”

“Good,” Doyle commented gratefully. He didn’t want the kind of power these beings had in mind. “I can live with that, I think.”

Lakhesis sniffed sadly as she held her intricately woven tapestry. Admonishing her sister, “Klotho, your task in the Champion’s destiny was over. Explain this!”

Refusing to look at the crisscrossed threads, Klotho felt her explanations were on the table. Sneaking a peek, Doyle noticed a patched up area, but had no idea if that was important or not. Examining the woven threads, Atropos gave him a surprised stare, her wrinkles deepening with the course of her frowning, “Well I must say that is an interesting future.”

Staring down at it now, looking at the details that Doyle could not see, Lakhesis let out a slow sound of agreement. “Hmph. Maybe it is. There was no reason to cut the tapestry. After all, that path was only a possibility.”

“Not anymore,” Klotho smirked at Lakhesis knowing the only possible paths left as free choices for Angel and Cordelia were ones that kept them together.

The End

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