The Next Connection

Author: Lysa

Rating: NC-17 for sexual situations.

Category: smut, humor, angst

Content: Primarily C/A

Summary: This is a sequel to "The First Connection". Angel is now living in L.A. as the new Champion to the PTB, having departed Sunnydale under a gloomy cloud of angst. Just as his mission begins, Cordelia Chase – his soulmate – reenters his life. Due to the magick that continues to shroud her memory, Cordy remembers nothing of their time together. The Oracles continue to watch over their Champion and Seer-to-Be, acting as guardian to the lost memories that would reveal everything about their shared past. Not knowing may be a chance to start over, but the dangers of discovery exist and may once again throw our heroes and the world itself spinning into darkness.

Spoilers: Angel Season 1

Disclaimer: The characters in the Angelverse were created by Joss Whedon & David Greenwalt. No infringement is intended, no profit is made.

Distribution: Anywhere but let me know.

Notes: Comments from the Oracles are in italics
Some of the unconventional parings from The First Connection are unlikely to return in this sequel, unless it’s in the form of a flashback or something in the story itself motivates me to write it.

Feedback: Want it, love it, need it. Appreciate all feedback, even if it’s constructive criticism.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
 
 

Part 1

 There is symmetry to all things in mortal life. Beginnings and endings. Love and hate. Trust and fear. Triumph and loss. Order and chaos. Opposites strike a balance between their counterpoints, a constant pull against the other. One rarely found alone. Lower beings, you come with questions borne of the heart seeking your unattainable answers. As Oracles to the Powers that Be, we recognize that which appears impossible to achieve has its own balance in the realm of the possible.

Angel strolled into the glamorous Hollywood party next to the beautiful blonde who was his assignment from the Powers that Be. His charge— Tina, a waitress at the Coffee Spot, a failed wanna-be-actress whose current goal was just making it home to Montana.

The half-demon Irish seer, Doyle, having invited himself into Angel’s perfectly solitary broody life claimed to be a messenger for these higher powers. These beings took it upon themselves to appoint the vampire as their champion in defending L.A.’s helpless against the darkness of its seedy underbelly. His experience in Sunnydale apparently topped-off his resume. For now, Angel was playing along— mainly because Doyle badgered him into it.

Doyle’s vague vision had provided only Tina’s name and the rendezvous location. Not any hint of the nature of the danger. Taking a cursory glance at the crowd, Angel figured it could be anything or anybody. When Tina moved off to find out if the party’s hostess had the money owed her, Angel found himself to be an object of interest. A small, well-dressed man sauntered toward him gazing up and down. Practically stripping him naked with his beady little eyes.

Just great, the sardonic thought echoed in Angel’s head. Rather than telling the guy to buzz off, he’d be forced to make small talk. At a party like this it was expected and he needed to stay long enough to figure out the nature of Tina’s problem. Angel hated small talk. He hated talk period, if he could avoid it.

“You are a beautiful, beautiful man,” Oliver, the talent agent introduced himself, business card in hand.

Taking the card, Angel appeared slightly rattled by the comment. How was he supposed to respond to that? “Thanks, but I’m not an actor.”

A hot guy in leather at a Hollywood party— not an actor? Oliver found it amusing. “I’m your agent as soon as you call me.”

As he tried to hand the card back to the persistent man, Angel’s sensitive hearing picked up on a voice in the crowd. It sounded like— but it couldn’t be. He had to be imagining it. Oliver was still gabbing when Angel walked toward the sound of the familiar cheery tones.

Halfway across the room, he found her. Cordelia Chase, his mate, chatting up two men in grey business suits. Standing stock-still, Angel let himself have a moment where the past did not matter. He simply soaked up her beauty with his eyes and felt the emotions grip his chest like a vice. Concentrating, he caught the faint scent of her that reminded him of cinnamon and apples.

What the hell was Cordelia doing in Los Angeles? This was not fair. It was torment to see her again. Barely six months had passed since Angel left Sunnydale. Six months since he deserted the two most important people in his life— Buffy and Cordelia.

Angel expected Buffy Summers to handle herself without him. She was the Slayer after all, the one girl in all the world chosen to fight against the darkness. He was part of that darkness. He’d been dragging her down into it despite all the good they did together. She deserved some sunlight in her life— deserved something better than a vampire as a lover. Despite leaving her, Angel knew that Buffy— his first love— would always have a place in his heart.

Watching Cordelia, he knew that his feelings for her were totally incomparable. While his love for Buffy had been sweet, heartfelt and true, the feelings Angel had for Cordelia Chase were nothing like it. From the first— even before meeting her face to face— there was a connection between them. Wild and wanton, his tigress in bed and out. The mate Angelus had claimed with full vampiric blood ritual and Angel grew to love.

Tied to him by blood, Cordelia’s connection ran deeper still. They were soulmates linked through a mystic error during his reensoulment. Together, they had almost a year of blissful happiness where Cordelia’s presence provided the grounding to bind his soul. Until he realized that the process allowed his demon to stay too close to the surface. Experiencing the barely controlled urges of his vampiric nature, Angel realized that his instincts were demanding too much. The danger to Cordelia continued to escalate through bouts of bloodplay and violent sex and the compelling urge to make her a vampire was the turning point.

So he devised a plan wherein Willow Rosenberg used a memory-altering spell to make everyone forget Cordelia ever belonged to him. Angel and Willow were the only ones who knew the truth. Even Buffy no longer remembered that she had been part of Angel’s relationship with Cordelia, that for his sake— and Buffy’s— his mate had invited the blond Slayer into their bed. For it was the only way Angel and Buffy could be together without risking his soul.

That Cordelia would even consider what she had done proved her love for him sacrificing something that most humans never would— monogamy, exclusive rights. And Angel was selfish enough to allow it. He often wondered how their lives might be different if Cordy had made Buffy leave the mansion that day. Or if the need to exert her claim over him had not escalated the process where Cordelia sensed his demon’s needs through the link.

Buffy had forgotten it all. Instead, the spell masked those memories leaving only platonic walks in the graveyard, stolen kisses, some serious groping and one tragic moment of intimacy. Angelus was too significant a player for a spell to erase, though Angel would have preferred it otherwise. Not a day went by— sometimes an hour— when he did not berate himself for the pain he had caused the ones he loved the most.

Seeing Cordelia this way stunned Angel. He wasn’t supposed to see her again. Certainly not in this lifetime. The memories that seemed so clear in his mind were erased from hers. He did not even know what part of their relationship, if any, she would recall. Better not to remind her. Best to go. Leave her to get on with her life— which she’s obviously doing.

Hollywood party. Gorgeous hair. Hot dress. Those long legs bare and wrapped around his waist. No— that wasn’t right! Those long legs strapped into sexy high-heeled sandals.

Closing his eyes, taking in her scent again in a slow breath, Angel turned away. This was not his purpose at this party— sniffing after the woman he loved, but couldn’t have. He had a mission here. With a growl of irritation at allowing himself to be distracted, Angel turned away planning to search for his blond charge.

“A-Angel?” Cordelia’s astonished voice sounded behind him. “Oh, my god. Angel.”

Escape had come too late. Spotted, the vampire had no recourse but to face her. Trying to look surprised at her presence, he put a puzzled look on his face. “Hmm?”

The vampire seemed distracted. Cordelia frowned at his expression, suddenly concerned. “You look— constipated. Margo hasn’t been feeding you those little star sandwiches, has she?”

Angel’s mouth dropped open. Constipated? He looked constipated?

Stepping closer, “I mean you don’t eat real food. Liquid diet?”

“Uh— right.”

“Thought so— you’re still grrr?” Cordy curled her fingers into claws and scrunched her beautiful face into a snarl.

God, he loved her when she was like that. Angel bit back his laughter, managing to keep a straight face. “There’s not actually— a cure for that.”

“Riiiight,” Cordy thought about it for a second before moving onto the more important question on her mind. “But you’re not evil; I mean you’re not here to bite people?”

Only you.

That thought bubbled up from the darkest depths reminding Angel of the reason why he chose to leave Cordelia in the first place. She brushed her silky hair behind her ear as she asked the question, revealing the smooth flawless skin of her throat.

“What are you *looking* at, mister?” Cordy suddenly noticed the direction of his gaze. “I am so not going to be your late night snack, Angel. What’s with the staring?”

Angel’s chest tightened. If he had a heartbeat, he would have felt it pounding. Reaching out a hand to push back the errant strands of hair, he conceded that his eyes were not deceiving him. Her skin was perfect and completely devoid of scars. Though Cordelia looked wary of the vampire’s interest in her neck, she did not back away. She did notice that he had not answered her question.

“Hello! Deaf and Dumber.”

“I-I-I noticed that my— that your scar is gone,” Angel’s brown eyes were bordering on dark amber.

Cordelia rolled her eyes. “I’m an actress now. I can’t go around with barbeque fork scars on my neck.”

“Barbeque fork?”

“That’s what Joyce told me,” she shrugged. “My agent insisted. So, I sold— I paid for a little plastic surgery. Had it removed.”

Standing in the middle of this crowded room, Angel felt like howling. As it was, he held his voice to a low growl. “Removed? You had it removed?”

Cordelia Chase had removed the mark of his claim. Once again— this had to be the third time, she surreptitiously denied the connection between them. Then Angel remembered that his mate had no memory of being claimed by himself as Angelus. In fact, in light of his decision to help her have a normal life without him, removing his mark was probably a good thing.

Angel hated it.

Getting a little antsy as the vampire continued to gaze at her neck, Cordelia changed the subject. “I didn’t know you were in L.A. Are you living here?”

“Yeah.” Angel dropped his hand back to his side, allowing the fall of her hair to cover her completely scar-free neck. “You?”

Grinning, Cordelia sounded thrilled to tell him, “Malibu. A small condo on the beach. Its not a private beach, but I’m young so I forbear.”

“You’re— acting?”

“Can you believe it?” Flashing her patented toothy grin, Cordelia told him, “I just started it as a way to make some quick cash, and then boom, it was like my life!”

Why would Cordy need to make quick cash? Angel looked puzzled again, but this time Cordelia didn’t notice. Her attention was caught by something over his left shoulder. “By any chance are you here with a blonde who is not Buffy Summers?”

“What?!”

“There is a blonde,” she pointed to the willowy woman in the blue dress. “She’s looking a little desperate. Maybe she ate the little star sandwiches too.”

Angel whipped around to see his charge in the clutches of a man who looked like trouble. He had forgotten all about his business here tonight. Looks like he just found it. Facing Cordelia again, he saw an expectant look on her face. She anticipated him charging to the rescue. “Cordy, I have to go, baby.”

“So go, Dark Avenger,” she quipped flippantly. “Do your thing. I’ve gotta get mingly. I should really be talking to people who *are* somebody.”

He held her hazel gaze for an instant before moving quickly in Tina’s direction. Cordelia watched him go before she too turned away from the scene. Disappearing into the crowd, she clutched at a dull ache centered in her solar plexus. Seeing Angel again actually hurt.

“Hey— did Angel just call me ‘baby’?” Cordy rolled it over her tongue again, “I have to go— maybe? I have to go— save the lady?”

Deciding that it was way too noisy in this party crowd, Cordelia figured that she misheard the vampire. Turning on the charm again, she mingled until the mingling had completely mingled out. Now she was back home— in her not so great, messy apartment wearing her comfy clothes reviewing the events of the night.

Angel, here in L.A. In a city of millions, they crossed paths at a party no self-respecting souled vampire would be caught undead at— he was actually there. And without Buffy. How weird was that? Cordelia figured the big break up at graduation would have been long-repaired by now. Those two were attached at the hip— or the lips. Buffy’s job as a Slayer kept her in Sunnydale, yet Angel was obviously not there.

Though he did have another blonde at the party. Maybe the vampire was just fixating on blondes because he missed Buffy. The dumbass! Cordy never got the whole vampire boyfriend thing. Not that she wasn’t all over the idea of being with Angel— when she thought he was a real man. When Buffy blurted out the fact that Angel was really human, well Cordy lost interest. And a good thing too.

Hello, Angelus! Obsessive-compulsive vamp who tries to suck the world into hell? Oh yeah. Definitely not boyfriend material. Even if he was a hottie.

When Cordelia finally fell asleep, her dreams were all of Angel. Not the kind of dreams she normally had about vampires, you know— with fangs and the biting. This was about him, just Angel. His eyes, his smile, his touch, his kiss. Mmm! His kiss. No, this was not your average vampire nightmare at all, but the yummy dreams faded by morning.

“You were such a hit at my party last night,” Margo crooned over the phone as she spoke with Cordelia.

“Oh, thanks!”

“Guess who saw my videotape of the party and wants to meet with you?” The hostess had been filming all night.

Cordelia was thrilled. She connected with someone last night at that party. “A director? A manager? An assistant to an assistant who wants to spring for lunch?”

The redhead explained that the interested party was none other that Russell Winters. Even Cordelia knew that name. Big money. Margo explained that he was more than just an investor, he also helped people get started in their film careers. “And he wants to meet you tonight.”

So Cordelia Chase found herself in a black stretch limo, decked out in a slightly altered version of her only good dress. It appeared that her positive energy mantra was working. Someone important had finally realized that Queen C could be somebody in Los Angeles, not just another pretty face from a town whose only attraction was a demon-spawning Hellmouth.

Russell Winters’ estate made the Chase Mansion look like a hobo’s hovel. The butler, Franklin, showed Cordelia to a large study that was sedately decorated with impressive furniture.

“Wow, what a nice place,” Cordelia commented glancing around the room. “I love your curtains. Not afraid to emphasize the curtains.”

The heavy drapes were dark black, covering every window. “Well, I have old fashioned tastes.”

Wanting to emphasize that she was not just your ordinary penniless, struggling actress, Cordelia told him, “I grew up in a nice home. It wasn’t like this, but we did have a room or two that we didn’t even know what they were for. Until the IRS got all huffy about my folks not paying taxes for— well forever. They took it all.”

Quite at ease with chatting up the beautiful young woman, Russell Winters discussed her previous acting experience. These young things always liked to talk about themselves. Get them on the subject and they were engrossed.

“I’ve tried really hard, you know,” Cordelia stressed sadly. “Usually when I set out to achieve something I succeed at it, right away— but I don’t know anybody, and I don’t really have any friends here.”

Russell smiled warmly. “Now you know me. You don’t have to worry anymore.”

Getting weepy with gratitude, Cordelia realized that she must look a mess. Probably had mascara running everywhere. She looked around for a mirror, finding none. Backing up closer to the door, she felt a twinge of hysterical laughter chortling in her throat as the similarities occurred to her. The irony was just too funny.

“I finally get invited to a nice place with— with *no* mirrors— and lots of curtains—,” she flashed him an accusatory look. “Hey! You’re a vampire.”

“What?!” Taken aback, Russell Winters could only blurt a quick denial. “No, I’m not.”

As if she was going to believe *that* lame response. “I’m from Sunnydale. We had our own Hellmouth! I think I know a vampire when I’m *alone* with him— in his fortress-like home.”

Realizing that she was trapped and had likely called out a killer vampire on his game, Cordelia tried to play it off. “And you know— I’m feeling a little light headed from hunger. I’m just wacky. And kidding! Ha ha.”

“Truth is, I’m glad you know,” the vampire told her just before morphing into his demon face. “It means we can skip the formalities.

Cordelia ran from the vampire, something she had always excelled at back home. But this time, she wasn’t really thinking clearly. The mansion was so huge, she really didn’t know where to go to get away. She took the first option she got— running up the white marble stairs. Russell clearly had strength and speed on his side for Cordelia’s small lead quickly vanished as she reached the top of the stairs.

Growling in anticipation, the vamp grabbed his prey by the shoulders pulling her closer and baring his fangs. Cordelia was about to scream— when the lights went out. Knowing that something was happening, Russell released Cordelia to view the space around him. An imposing sillouette stepped from the shadows, a tall male form moving with jungle cat grace into the hall.

“Angel?” She couldn’t believe it. Cordelia went from a feeling of pure terror to complete confidence. Her heart rate steadied as she watched Angel’s approach from the landing.

Focused on Russell Winters, Angel told him why he had come. “I have a message for you from Tina.”

Silently acknowledging Cordelia’s presence, Angel decided not to call too much attention to her. She’d be safer that way. Best to focus on the reason he was here— to avenge the death of the girl from Missoula, Montana. Tina had been Russell’s target. Now it looked like the investment banker was targeting Cordelia Chase.

Russell threatened him, “You have made a very big mistake coming here.”

Scoffing, Cordelia almost felt sorry for the creep. “You don’t know who he is, do you? Oh, boy! You are about to get your ass kicked!”

Pulling out a stake from his jacket pocket, Angel lunged in an attack against the other vampire. Cordelia leapt back out of the way. The two vampires were evenly matched, neither gaining a lot of ground against the other— until Russell suddenly tossed Angel to the floor.

“Angel?” Gasping at the fact that her rescuer was now on the ground, Cordelia called out his name. So much for the ass kicking, but she seriously doubted her vampire was out for the count.

The vampire in question was looking at the stairs where two bodyguards were charging to the upper floor. As soon as they stepped onto the top level, Angel yanked the carpet runner out from all three of his opponents. Russell yelled out an order to kill Angel and Cordelia.

A shot fired, hitting Angel directly in the chest.

With vampiric speed, Angel picked up Cordelia into his arms. The bullets continued to fly, now hitting him in the back as he jumped up and over the banister. Landing safely on the floor below, they ran out the front door and did not stop until they reached the main gate.

Bleeding from the bullet wounds, Angel was hunched over and in obvious discomfort as they made it to the spot where Doyle waited. Then he saw what Doyle had done with his car. There was a huge dent on the front fender and steam gusted from the radiator. The half demon gave the vampire a weak apology. “I know I’ve had a bit of an accident, but we’ll talk later.”

“Yes,” Angel grunted as he fell into the back seat of his black convertible. “We will.”

Back at the apartment, Angel removed his jacket and shirt prior to collecting the medical supplies from the bathroom. “This should be enough,” he automatically handed the items to Cordelia who was gaping at his bloody wounds.

“What?!” She looked horrified. “You want *me* to do it?”

“You always—,” he began only to break off when realizing that Cordy did not remember the many patch-up sessions where she provided her particular brand of TLC.

“Yeah. I always gag at the sight of bleeding chest wounds.” Shuddering, Cordelia wigged out at the thought, going as far as doing a little dance of disgust that wriggled her entire body. “That is sooooo gross!”

Doyle made a grunt of disgust at her girly response. “I’ll dig out the bullets if you get the bandages ready.”

That sounded reasonable. Cordelia opened the packages of sterile 4x4-inch gauze and prepared the tape while Doyle did the dirty work. She was very proud of herself when it was done. All of Angel’s wounds were neatly covered, but only after insisting that Doyle put on the antibiotic ointment first.

“It’s over, right?” Cordelia asked Angel. “We’re going to be okay. You put the fear of God into that Russell guy.”

Then after a moment’s hesitation, she added, “He’s not going to come looking for me, right?”

Angel, Cordelia and Doyle just stared at each other. They all knew the answer to that one. For now, Angel needed a little time to heal. Overnight at least. And he wasn’t about to let Cordelia go back to her place alone. With Winter’s connections, he probably knew where she lived.

“You’re staying here tonight, Cordy,” Angel insisted.

“Okay.”

No argument? Angel simply accepted the lack of one without further questioning. If he said anything, Cordelia would be out of here in a flash no matter the danger.

Doyle decided that it was safe for him to go home, since Russell Winters didn’t know him from Adam. Besides, there was only the bed and the couch. With Angel injured, he would obviously get to sleep in his own bed. While he didn’t like the idea of sharing a sleeping place with an injured vampire, he certainly did not like the thought of Cordelia being the one in his bed.

Two hours later, Angel was still awake and lying in bed. Russell Winters was going to pay and he already had a plan. It was Cordelia who filled his thoughts. Cordelia who only yesterday returned to him. No, he clarified his thoughts, not to him. She simply showed up. Crossed paths. Ships passing— and now she was sleeping soundly just yards away on his couch.

These mysterious Powers that Be had sent him Doyle to provide visions of potential victims, presumably so he could stop their deaths before they occurred. Tina was dead, but she had done something in her life that made her a star in Angel’s eyes. She had given him Cordelia again. Even if it was just until this situation was resolved. Cordy— his beautiful, stubborn tigress— was under his roof and his protection.

Sitting up on the side of his bed, Angel picked up the phone handset and dialed a number with a Sunnydale area code. He needed to talk to someone about this— needed some answers only she could provide.

“Hello?” Buffy Summer’s voice came over the phone, startling Angel. “Hello?”

What a mistake! He must have automatically dialed her number. Was running into Cordy again not enough torture? Now he was dialing up his former girlfriend. This was not the time to talk to Buffy and certainly not with Cordelia Chase as the topic of discussion. He quickly pressed the button to terminate the call.

Carefully, Angel redialed this time making certain that he entered the appropriate phone number. After a couple of rings, Willow Rosenberg’s perky voice greeted him from the other end despite the late hour.

“Hello? Rosenberg residence.”

“You’re there! Thank God. I thought you might be with Buffy,” he rambled.

It took Willow a few seconds to identify the caller. “— Angel?”

“Yeah.” The vampire got straight to the point. “Why didn’t you tell me that Cordelia was in Los Angeles?”

Willow was his sole contact in Sunnydale who remembered everything about himself, Buffy and Cordelia. Her well-intentioned, but interfering magick sparked the spiraling chain of events. It was she who cast the memory spell that kept the others ignorant of the past. When Angel departed Sunnydale, he made Willow promise to keep an eye on his girls.

“Cordy is in L.A.?”

The query proved that Willow was as clueless as he was about the fact. “Here in L.A. In my apartment.”

Eep! So not a good idea. “T-that could be dangerous, Angel. I thought you decided to stay away from Cordelia because you were worried you might turn her into a vampire.”

“She’s on the couch, Willow,” he pointed out. “Not in my bed.”

Though he certainly wanted her there. Despite his wounds, Angel figured he would be up to the challenge. That was the problem— lust. It was always getting in the way of his more tender feelings. Right now, he’d give anything just to hold her sleeping form in his arms.

“So this is just— a visit?”

“No.” Angel explained about the events of the night. “Cordelia says that she is an actress. That is the reason she is in Los Angeles.”

Frowning, Willow asked, “Why did you call me if you already know the reason she is there?”

“I wanted to know why you didn’t warn me,” he countered. “Not much point in trying to get away from your past if it keeps following you.”

“Get a clue, Angel,” sighed Willow. “First, I don’t have your phone number or address. You never bothered to call me. Second, did it ever occur to you that maybe you two are *supposed* to be together. I know you were worried about turning her into a vampire— and killing Cordelia would not be of the good— but there has to be another way to make it work.”

Supposed to be together, he mused. As in predestined? As in certain higher powers giving him a half-demon seer whose vision points him in just the right direction to discover his mate living right here in the City of Angels? Nah! This had to be a coincidence.

“If I start to think about that, Willow, I’ll never let her go again.”

“Maybe you don’t have to,” the redhead suggested.

“Don’t tempt me.”

“I’m not. Just saying something I should have said before casting that memory spell.” Willow had actually thought about it a lot. “Angel, you never told Cordy about your plan. Never told her that you were worried. If I know Cordelia Chase at all, I know that she wouldn’t give up on you.”

That brought a smile to his face, but Angel couldn’t take back the decision. “I can’t start second-guessing myself at this point. Too many lives are at stake.”

“Yeah.”

“Why is she here?” Angel couldn’t let go the idea. “Acting? That has to be the most asinine idea I’ve heard.”

Willow didn’t think so. “Why would anyone in Hollywood look twice at someone as disgustingly beautiful as our Cordy? What with the gorgeous face and body and smile— Nah! Definitely reject material.”

“What?!”

“I’m just teasing, Angel. Cordelia Chase always gets what she wants. It’s ingrained like sand in an oyster— eventually she’ll find a way to make it into a pearl. As long as she doesn’t audition for musicals, I bet she’ll do fine.”

“But— why?” The vampire could not understand the reason for it. “She’s living in some condo on a beach. Why isn’t she at University? Her parents were planning on sending her to one of those east coast schools.”

As if Cordelia would ever have left Angel. Then it occurred to Willow that Angel did not know about the circumstances Cordelia found herself in after he left her. Not that anyone knew about it. Improvisation was definitely that girl’s strong point, Willow thought. She kept it hidden from everybody.

“Uh— Angel, you’re not gonna want to hear this,” Willow began. “So it’s a good thing that you’re in L.A. and I’m safe here in Sunnydale.”

Silence. He was waiting, she sensed, and already brooding about it.

“Well— Cordelia’s parents left the country without her. Rumors are flying. Something about tax fraud. The government took everything, Angel. During the last couple of weeks that Cordy was in Sunnydale, nobody knew it had happened.”

More silence and brooding, Willow sensed.

“It wasn’t until Cordelia disappeared that the truth came out,” she reluctantly told him. “It seems she was living at the Sunnydale Motel for a while. Giles discovered that her money situation was not good— apparently he paid for what she still owed on her room.”

“Rupert Giles knew about this?”

“Only after the fact. We hadn’t seen her in a while. Frankly, we were all caught up in Buffy’s angst session following your departure. Everyone forgot about her for a while.”

She knew that wouldn’t be well received.

“Willow!” Angel barked at her over the line. “I asked you to look out for her.”

“I thought she had gone on one of those summer vacations with her folks. You know, to Italy or somewhere with a beach.”

More silence, this time accompanied by anger so palpable that Willow sensed it over the phone. Eep! “Giles and I have tried to find her. He’s been using his contacts and I have been using my magick. Not that it’s gotten me anywhere. The spells just didn’t work, almost like someone didn’t want me to find Cordelia. Maybe it’s their way of reminding me to mind my own business.”

“Whose way?”

“Wh—.” Did she say that part aloud? There goes her big mouth again. “No, no. I meant *my* way. My way of unconsciously telling myself that casting spells involving Cordelia and you is a bad idea. Not gonna go there again.”

“Oh. Makes sense,” he answered reluctantly.

“Angel, I have school in the morning, so I better get some shut-eye.” Willow hinted only to have the vampire question her about her classes at Sunnydale University. They chatted for another minute, before Angel provided her with his telephone number and address.

“I hope things work out— between you and Cordy.”

Ending the call, Angel returned the handset to its cradle. Willow’s last statement kept on rattling in his brain. God, if only that was possible.

The expected path runs true to plan. Our Champion, Our Seer and the Seer-to-Be will soon join forces for the common good. There is only one variable left in play to wreck havoc upon the course the Powers have laid out for this trio. That exists in the form of a memory crystal currently within our possession. The memories of our Seer-to-Be. As long as the crystal exists, her memories of the time before remain locked away. Safe from one who may unwillingly cause harm. Safe from she who might encourage it. Safe from the curious and well-meaning soul who might seek to undo what she has done.

Part 2

 The expected path runs true to plan. Our Champion, Our Seer and the Seer-to-Be will soon join forces for the common good. There is only one variable left in play to wreck havoc upon the course the Powers have laid out for this trio. That exists in the form of a memory crystal currently within our possession. The memories of our Seer-to-Be. As long as the crystal exists, her memories of the time before remain locked away. Safe from one who may unwillingly cause harm. Safe from she who might encourage it. Safe from the curious and well-meaning soul who might seek to undo what she has done.
 

“What happened to Russell?” Doyle asked Angel.

The vampire had been stoic all afternoon. “He went into the light.”

“And yet you don’t seem to be in a celebrating mood,” the seer noted. Well, Doyle had a plan to fix that.

Angel still questioned the reason that the so-called Powers-that-Be arranged for him to get Doyle’s vision, yet he was unable to save Tina from Russell Winters. The bastard might have gotten what he deserved, but the young actress certainly got the raw end of the deal. She was dead. Angel hadn’t saved her.

“I killed a vampire.” He pointed out to Doyle. “I didn’t *help* anybody.”

Doyle’s dark eyebrows shot up. “Are you sure about that? Because there is a girl upstairs that’s as happy as can be.”

The Irishman had to be talking about Cordelia. When he awakened earlier, she was still sleeping on the couch. He tucked her in again, watching her shift against the pillow with a smile on her face. Leaning down, he pressed a soft kiss upon her forehead, unable to encroach any further without wanting more.

Upon returning from Angel found his apartment empty. No Doyle. No Cordelia. No note. The devastating discovery that he had not gotten to say goodbye to her had him brooding about it for the last three hours. “Are you saying that Cordelia came back? She’s here?”

“Happy as can be,” Doyle repeated with a confirming nod.

“Aaaaaaah!” The blood-curdling scream instantly captured the attention of Angel and Doyle who jumped to their feet.

Bursting into the office upstairs, Angel saw his mate cowering in one corner of the room with a duster in hand. Stepping carefully around the streaming sunlight coming through the windows, he moved closer looking for the cause of her panic.

Using the fluffy duster as a pointer, Cordelia’s eyes were full of horror. “Ah! Look over there! A cockroach! In the corner. I think it’s a bantam weight.”

Both Doyle and Angel looked contrarily irritated and relieved. This was the reason for the screaming? Before they could say anything, Cordelia had her fisted hands on her hips and was issuing orders.

“Okay, first thing. We need to call an exterminator and a sign painter. We should have a name on the door.”

Whoa. Exterminator, maybe, but sign painter? “Okay. I’m confused,” Angel confessed.

“Pfft! That’s what you get for not being here when Doyle and I came up with the plan.”

“The plan?”

Cordelia nodded, her bright eyes full of eager delight. “Doyle filled me in on your little mission. So I was saying, if we were going to help people, maybe a small charge.You know, something to help pay the rent, and my salary. You need somebody to organize things.”

Blinking in consternation, Angel queried, “You want to charge people?”

With an eye-roll, Cordelia huffed, “Well not everybody. But sooner or later we are going to have to help some rich people, right? Right?”

When Angel appeared dumbstruck, Doyle answered. “Possibly, yeah.”

Cordelia went on to suggest that the charges should be made on a case-by-case basis, with her working for a flat fee. “I mean— if you can use me?”

It was impossible to resist that sweet smile of hers, he thought. This wasn’t a decision that Angel could make lightly, not considering everything between them. Cordelia Chase represented far more that just fond memories of a girl from his recent past— that is what she was probably aiming for. She was his soulmate, his lifemate and his demon’s desire.

“Of course this is just temporary,” Cordy stressed, “—until my inevitable stardom takes affect.”

Picking up the box full of office supplies and cleaning products, she smiled at him and walked away. Already getting to work on what would become her space in the office. As he watched, leaning against the doorframe, Angel realized that he never responded to her question about staying. Was it to be automatically assumed? Did her faith in him run that deep, or was it just her annoyingly clever way of getting what she wanted? Either way, he could never tell her no.

Patting Angel on the shoulder, Doyle’s gaze was focused on the beautiful new addition to their lives. “You’ve made a good choice. She’ll provide a connection to the world. She’s got a very humanizing influence.”

The vampire smirked. Doyle’s assumptions about Cordy were obviously not backed up by the 411 from the Powers-that-Be. Cordelia *was* his connection to the world, but her influence proved anything but humanizing. As he observed her unconsciously graceful moves, Angel could not prevent the innate satisfaction that his mate had wheedled her way back into his life again.

One part of Angel told him that Doyle’s sudden interest in Cordelia was not just for his benefit. Not that he could blame the Irishman for that. With a half smile, Angel pointed out what he knew to be true, “You think she’s a hottie.”

“Yeah, she’s a stiffener alright,” Doyle admitted still soaking in the sight of her. But he had not heard Angel give any confirmation that he was allowing the girl to stay. Hinting, “—But you know, she could use a hand.”

“True.” Angel blamed himself for that one.

Prompting the vampire again, “You know there’s a lot of people in this city that need helping.

“Hmm.” Still distracted by watching Cordy, “So I noticed.”

“You game?” Doyle asked him as the vampire finally started to pay attention.

Angel thought about it for a moment. He was here in L.A., possibly on some predestined path— to what he did not know. Whatever the reason, this crossroads seemed to provide him with a purpose. A calling. Moreover, it brought him Cordelia. Maybe Willow was right all along, he mused while turning his gaze back upon her. Maybe they were simply meant to be together. Maybe this was their second chance.

Too many maybes. One thing, he knew. If he accepted this mission by the Powers-that-Be, if he let Cordelia stay— Angel was never going to let her go again. Come hell or high water, he swore it silently, she’s mine.

Determination sparkled in the dark recesses of his eyes as Angel responded to Doyle’s question. “I’m game.”

Over the next couple of weeks Cordelia had the office of Angel Investigations up and running. The only hitch was the arrival of their business cards, which Cordy personally designed. Nobody seemed to get that it was an angel. You know, standing for — *Angel* Investigations. Everyone seemed to think in was some kind of lobster.

Doyle’s migrane-producing visions had given them a number of cases, all complimentary of course as their annoying refused to ask anyone for money. “I-I’m not comfortable with asking people who need help to cough up their hard-earned cash to pay us.”

“How do you think we make *our* hard-earned cash?” Cordy had pointed out. “We are definitely earning it, Broody Boy, but have nothing to show for it.”

Yeah, yeah. She had rent to pay. Angel had heard the argument a dozen times. Well, he had a solution for that one— not that he would actually ask her to move in. That would definitely be crossing the careful line he had set up for himself.

Boss. Secretary. Platonic friendship. No touchy. No feely. Cordelia on that side of the desk. Him on the other.

Unfortunately, Cordelia Chase was one of the most touchy feely people that Angel had ever encountered— as long as she was the one doing the touching and not the other way around. She did it so unconsciously, that the vampire could not in any way blame her for it, but it rattled his nerves. Especially when the touchy feelyness was equally imparted upon Doyle. Those two easily struck up a friendship, both being rather extroverted people persons. For them, it was easy. For the vampire, whom they dragged out clubbing on one or two occasions, it was closer to a nightmare.

Being near Cordelia without being *with* Cordelia was difficult enough, but witnessing the flirtatious banter between the two coworkers was enough to drag Angel into one of his dark brooding sessions. The jealousy gnawed at him, but he was determined to ignore it.

“I’m here, Angel,” Cordelia was standing in the bedroom doorway. “Where do you want me?”

He had called her downstairs to review one of their case files. It was mid-day and Cordy liked to keep the blinds open, so he chose to stay put, bringing her down to see him. Her arrival came faster than he expected and he was still standing by the phone next to his bed— mostly dressed.

Cordelia pressed a hand against the doorframe, letting her eyes wander slowly. Obviously not caring if he noticed. Dressed in his usual black pants, she saw that his grey shirt was equally dark and dismal. It was hanging open— unbuttoned and revealing the smoothly muscled frame of his torso.

“Didn’t expect you so soon,” he muttered reacting to the hint of arousal in her eyes.

“It’s not like I had to come across town for a meeting, Angel,” Cordy grinned meeting his gaze sharply. “Just downstairs.”

“I’m still getting dressed.”

“Noticed that,” Cordelia ignored the hint to leave and stepped further into the room.

She was still smiling as she walked over to his closet, browsing through the various shirts hanging there. “Geez, vampires must be color blind. All you can see are different shades of black and grey?”

All of the clothes that Cordelia had bought him during their year together were packed away in trunks at the Sunnydale mansion. What was he supposed to say? That he had given up on blue shirts because they were her favorite color?

“Must be you, broody,” she stood inches away trying not to reach out to touch his chest. “I definitely recall other vamps with appropriate use of the other parts of the rainbow in their fashion sense.”

Cordelia found her hands on the open edges of Angel’s shirt. Her hazel eyes darted up to his face where she found him doing his best not to smile. When he did, flashing his teeth at her in this striking grin, Cordy felt herself holding her breath at its power. Angel was smiling? Angel was smiling. At her.

Suddenly, she was grinning back and laughing merrily. Such a silly conversation to be having with her boss. Her partially naked, gorgeous boss. Her partially naked, gorgeous *vampire* boss. The light died in her eyes at the reminder and Cordelia let go her hold on his shirt, stepping back.

Catching her wrist, Angel stopped the backward progress of her escape. “Don’t.”

“Don’t what?” Cordelia licked her suddenly dry lips, blowing out a little huff of air that simply made them fuller. “Don’t remember what happened at the Bronze two years ago? Pretend to forget that I— that you’re a vampire? Angel, I can’t do that.”

“No, I want you to remember that, Cordy,” he surprised her. “Think about it everyday because that’s who I am. A vampire. A demon with a soul.”

“Buffy never had a problem with that, but I-I can’t ignore that part of you the way she always did.” Cordelia knew the blonde separated Angel and Angelus to the point where she had herself convinced they were two different people. It seemed so clear to her that they were the same one.

Angel found himself faltering. It was so confusing not knowing what memories the spell kept intact. He had to be careful. Not confuse her by saying the wrong thing. But he could not let her get too close. Whatever it was that linked them together, he felt it constantly. He wondered if Cordelia felt it too, this constant pull, this eternal longing.

Eternal. The thought bothered him. They had only been apart a few short months, a time frame insignificant compared to the course of his existence, yet it felt like an eternity of separation. Angel had closed himself off from it, gone through the lonliness and aching torment of the withdrawl from her blood. Now that they were together again, he felt that ache all of the time, almost more significantly than when she was not present.

He wanted nothing more than to cup her face in his hands, press his lips to hers and kiss Cordelia into oblivion alongside him.

“This isn’t about Buffy,” Angel reminded. “It has always been about you and me. There has always been something between us, Cordy, and don’t try to deny it.”

Shaking her head, Cordelia indicated that she couldn’t deny what he said. From the first moment she spotted Angel enter the Bronze, Cordelia wanted him, but that was just the reaction of a girl to a guy, albeit a very hot salty goodness kind of a guy. “Angel, I like working here with you. I still get to do auditions and get to help the hopeless every now and then.”

Cordelia took a deep breath. She had to lay it on the line. “Angel, the Powers-that-Be did not choose you as their champion simply because you’re a vampire. I *know* that. You have lots of qualities that make it easy for any girl to want you— especially if they are blonde or are vampires or slay them for a living.”

She was trying to let him down easy, Angel realized that Cordelia was spurning him. This was what he wanted, after all. Wasn’t it? To save her from heartache. To keep her distant. To keep her human.

Angel loathed the idea.

No, not the human part. Just the idea of making her revisit her old fears about vampires. It seemed that the memory spell had brought her to a place where she never lost that on some subconscious level. Or maybe, it was just him.

“You know I’d never hurt you, Cordy.” Angel took her by the shoulders, stepping closer into her personal sphere. “You *do* know that.”

“Dumbass!” Cordelia slapped him on the chest, even as she shrugged out of his hold.

Rubbing his bare chest, Angel felt the sting of her not-so-gentle hand. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Cordy suddenly felt like a four-year old caught biting the boy-next-door to make him take notice. “Nothing. Except that I know you’d never hurt me, Angel. Not physically.”

“Good.” He hoped that wasn’t an empty promise.

“Unless you lose the soul again,” she continued keeping her voice light and airy. “That would be another story. I’m likely to be on the list of those corpses Angelus wanted to pile up on Buffy’s doorstep.”

“Nope,” Angel clarified for her. “Vampire candidate number one.”

“Oh, really?” The raised eyebrow suggested she thought he was teasing. “So who was number two?”

Doyle’s voice suddenly bellowed from the top of the stairs. “Is anyone planning to work today?”

Jogging down the stairs, to find Cordelia standing in the area between the kitchen and the bedroom. Angel emerged, buttoning his shirt. After a thoughtful pause, Doyle told them, “We have a mysterious visitor in the lobby. Claims she’s neither helpless nor hopeless, but wants to see Angel. Asked for you by name.”

“Did she say who she was?” Doyle crossed his arms as he waited by the steps, giving him a negative shake of his head. “Nope.”

“Is she a blonde?” Cordelia inquired suspisciously.

“Nope,” grinned Doyle. The girl had some strange fixation on blondes. “Fire engine red is more like it.”

Angel and Cordelia shared a knowing glance before simultaneously voicing, “Willow.”

“Well, if you say so, but I gotta tell you— she wasn’t a Weeping Willow, just determined to see you.”
 

Thus enters the one responsible for the dangers both past and future, a lower being with a vast potential as yet untapped. A child of light predestined to be embraced by chaos. It might end the world, if her actions at the present do not end it sooner. The witch carries a gift to our Champion that will harbinger the arrival of the most dangerous variable to threaten the stability of the link between him and his Seer-to-Be.

Part 3

 Thus enters the one responsible for the dangers both past and future, a lower being with a vast potential as yet untapped. A child of light predestined to be embraced by chaos. It might end the world if her actions at the present do not end it sooner. The witch carries a gift to our Champion that will harbinger the arrival of the most dangerous variable to threaten the stability of the link between him and his Seer-to-Be.
 

The vampire was already hopping up the stairs two at a time, leaving Cordelia and Doyle to follow. As Cordy made her way toward the stairs, the seer inquired, “Is this Willow his girlfriend?”

“Duh! Not a blonde.”

Doyle glanced curiously at her own silky hair and found he did not understand why she was so certain Angel was only attracted to blondes. “I guess that would mean no, then.”

“Why? Are you interested?” Cordelia was struck by a strange feeling of possessiveness.

“I’m *always* interested,” he leered playfully as they walked up the steps.

“Eew!”

Laughing at his own pitiful self, Doyle decided he would have to work a lot harder than that to get Cordelia to look at him instead of Angel. Talk about your impossible odds. A champion, no less. Angel had that tall, dark and brooding thing going for him— even if the lad had forgotten how to sweet talk a woman. After two weeks— no after two days of knowing Cordelia, she had spilled the works about her history in Sunnydale including her distanced casual relationship with the vampire.

Distant and casual. Who did the girl think she was fooling with that one? You didn’t have to have visions to know there was something between them. Doyle figured on unrequited lust, seeing as how Angel was supposedly involved with this blonde Slayer girl. That was a hoot! A vampire in love with a vampire slayer. Talk about your star-crossed romances.

Was the idea any stranger than a half-demon seer in love with an ex-cheerleading wanna-be-actress turned secretary? With those odds, Doyle figured he stood a chance.

Cordy reached the top of the stairs and walked into the main office. She noticed that the window blinds had been closed. “Willow?”

The redheaded witch extracted herself from Angel’s bear hug to greet her with an overly bright smile. “Hi Cordy!”

“I’m Doyle,” the seer reminded, standing behind the brunette.

“Willow Rosenberg.” She pressed her mouth into another smile.

There was lots of smiling, Cordelia realized. “What’s with all the smiling?”

“C-can’t a girl say hello?”

“Not if she’s hiding something,” countered Cordy. “I’m glad to see you Willow, but you have that look on your face.”

Eep! What look was that? Willow was certain she didn’t have a look on her face, not one that said she was up to something. Now she was frowning. “I don’t know what you mean. I’m here to see Angel.”

“Hmm!”

“—And you, too!”

“You knew that I would be here?” Cordelia found it interesting that Angel had obviously been in contact with Sunnydale sometime during the last two weeks.

“Uh—,” Willow darted a desperate look at Angel. There went her slippery tongue again.

“So what’s the deal?”

Angel was a little curious himself. They had not talked since that night of the party when Cordy came back into his life. Suddenly fearful, Angel asked, “Is everyone in Sunnydale okay?”

“Gosh, yes.” Willow hadn’t thought about her unannounced visit coming across like that.

“Buffy is— fine. Just fine. Classes are good. She’s really enjoying— her classes.”

Willow doubted that Angel would want to hear that Buffy was also enjoying Riley Finn, the teacher’s assistant in one of those classes. His reason for leaving Sunnydale was to let Buffy and Cordy get on with their lives, but she had the feeling that meant they were supposed to do whatever they wanted as long as it included going home to a convent at night.

Seeing the close presence of the nice looking guy behind Cordelia, she had to wonder what was happening there. Though she wouldn’t mind talking to Angel about her reason for being here in front of the other girl, she had no clue about this Doyle person.

“Uh—,” Willow began nervously as she noted Cordelia’s continued stare. “Angel, can we talk somewhere more private?”

“Good idea,” Doyle chipped in. “We shouldn’t talk about stuff out here. We can all go into Angel’s office.”

Grabbing Doyle by the shirtsleeve, Cordelia pulled him over to the couch next to the office door. “We’ll just wait here. You two go off and have your secret conversations without us.”

Miffed that Angel was not going to let them in on Willow’s news, Cordelia grabbed the little cosmetics bag from her desk. She took out her nail file and imagined herself shaping them into pointy little claws. Catching the look on Doyle’s face, she paused in her efforts and told him, “Just you wait. We’ll find out all about it later.”

“Are you saying that Angel can’t keep a secret?”

“Nope! Willow’s tongue is slipperier than a waterslide,” Cordy explained conspiratorially as she smirked. “You just have to figure out the right questions.”

“Wanna bet?”

“What?!” Cordelia had to laugh. “You don’t even know Willow.”

“Not about her,” Doyle waved that off. “About him. Angel will tell us what the redhead had to say before you can get anything from her.”

Cordelia gaped at his audacity. Loving it, she agreed to the bet. Then asked, “What do I win?”

“You must mean— what are you going to be doing for me,” the seer chortled.

“Hah!”

“Right back at ya,” Doyle leaned back confident of his triumph.

Thinking hard, Cordelia informed him, “When you lose this bet, you will not only clean my apartment, but paint it.”

The thought horrified him. Doyle had seen Cordy’s place. He might compare it to a pig pen if it wouldn’t insult the pigs. “No way. Think of something else.”

“Those are my stakes.” Cordelia was not going to budge on that one. “Let’s hear yours.”

Doyle jumped off of the couch, pacing as he tried to come up with something that would suit this bet. It had to be equally offensive— or something that would be lots of fun for him. Probably both. Yes, yes that was it! He told her. Now Cordelia was off of the couch, gasping and practically growling at the audacity of the man to expect *that* for a measly bet.

“You little psycho case! I won’t do it,” she told him. “Can’t make me. I don’t even own that kind of outfit.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll take care of the details,” Doyle grinned having loads of fun right now.

“Pfft!”

“Then do you concede that you’re gonna lose this bet?”

“Am not!”

“So you’ll wear it?” Doyle asked.

Cordelia wanted this bet. Her apartment was in desperate need of a face lift and she needed cheap labor. How cheap could you get except Doyle? “Okay. If I lose, I will wear the outfit, but only— only if I can tell people anything I want about why I’m wearing it.”

Frankly, Doyle didn’t care what she said as long as he didn’t have to be blindfolded. This was going to be hilarious. If she didn’t kill him after it was over.

They were still snipping over each other when Angel and Willow emerged from the inner office. The redhead’s ivory skin was flushed as the vampire’s gaze left hers. “What the hell is going on out here?”

“Nothing,” Cordy supplied with a smile of pure innocence.

“Uh, huh.” It was clear he did not believe it for a minute.

Doyle grabbed the opening while his opponent was batting her eyelashes at their vampire boss. “So, how’d it go in there?”

“Fine,” Willow answered despite the fact that he directed his question at Angel. “We did what I came to do and I got what I needed.”

With a narrowed glance in the redhead’s direction, Cordelia asked interestedly, “What was that again?”

A short pause followed she got even redder. “Let’s just say I won’t ever look at Angel’s hand the same way again.”

“What?!” That sounded like— no. What a ridiculous thought. Damn Doyle for not letting her look through the glass window between the offices. No, he had to distract her with his stupid bet.

Over six months had passed since Cordelia last saw the little redhead. What in the world had she been up to with Angel during that time? Certainly Willow had not traveled all the way from Sunnydale just to— to do something with Angel’s hand that left her flushed a bright red hue.

The idea that— no, no, no! Don’t even think it, Cordy. She trudged over to the couch and sat down again, staring blankly ahead. This was Willow and Angel she was imagining— and that left her feeling kinda queasy.

Eew!

“Something wrong, Cordelia?” Angel saw the color leave her cheeks.

She couldn’t even respond. Doyle didn’t know what gutter Cordelia was visiting, but his own mind was quite happily situated there. Somehow, he doubted that his boss would— well, at least not in the office, he conceded. Not where they could see it. If Cordelia had bothered to remind him about the clear window between the offices, they could have seen it. Geez, he could read lips fairly well— not that what they were apparently doing in there required any reading.

“Look, man,” Doyle began, his Irish brogue thicker than usual. “Whatever you and the little redhead were up to in the office, we really don’t need to hear about it, okay?”

Angel crossed his arms over his broad chest. “Up to?”

Then Doyle noticed the ring on the vampire’s hand. “Angel! Do you know what that ring is? I can’t believe it.”

Cordelia blinked away the images in her head. “Ring? Since when do you go all Versace about accessorizing?”

While Angel fiddled with the ring on his finger, Doyle pointed out to Cordelia, “Since the accessory is priceless and renders its wearer 100% unkillable if he’s a vampire.”

“It’s the Ring of Amara,” Angel explained. “Apparently, Spike dug up half of Sunnydale in order to find it. He got a fist full of Buffy and left it behind. She wanted to be sure it was in good hands.”

Doyle was still rocking from the discovery. “You’re invulnerable, man. Don’t you get it? Why aren’t you jumping up and down with happiness? That won’t bother you now. Not anything, actually. Not stakes, not fire, and the best thing is— not even sunlight.”

With a look that registered as awe, but was weighted by some immeasurable fear, Cordy gazed down at the ancient object. “So Buffy sent it to you.”

That carried with it untold meaning, but Cordelia also realized that Buffy had not come to give it to the vampire. “Why did you come, Willow?”

The witch pressed her lips together tightly, merely shrugging in response. Angel was the one to tell her that Buffy asked her to make the trip. She borrowed Giles’ car and drove here by herself. The reason for the privacy was simply because Willow had to discuss a few things including the disposition of some of his stuff at the Sunnydale mansion.

“I decided to leave it there,” Angel told them before Cordelia could ask.

Doyle slowly approached Cordelia who was still sitting on the couch. Tapping her on the shoulder, he cleared his throat. “Looks like we have to discuss a few things ourselves.”

“What?!” Cordy realized that he was referring to the bet. In horrification, she knew that it had been Angel rather than Willow to reveal the truth to them. “That is so wrong, Doyle. You knew about the ring. That’s an unfair advantage.”

Walking away from her, Doyle called over his shoulder as he headed downstairs to grab a celebratory beer. “I’ll expect you for a fitting, say tomorrow?”

Speeding after him, Cordelia followed him downstairs trying to figure out how she could get out of this bet. Left behind, Willow and Angel looked at each other and smiled. The redhead asked, “Did they really deserve that? Honestly Angel— vampire hearing and all. That’s definitely taking advantage.”

Angel pointed out, “Shouldn’t make bets if they can’t stand losing. Besides, you played along, too.”

“Um— yeah. Guess I did,” Willow had to admit. “You have to fess up— you wanted to have Cordy lose the bet. You fixed it so Doyle would win.”

“Look at it this way, Willow,” he told her, “if Cordy won, Doyle would have *me* at Cordelia’s apartment with a duster and cans of paint. On the other hand, with Doyle winning, the view around the office is going to improve significantly plus I get free entertainment.”

Giggling at the thought, Willow warned, “Just don’t get caught in the crossfire. I doubt even the Ring of Amara will keep you safe from Cordelia’s tongue-lashing if she ever finds out that you cheated.”

There would be fireworks, he knew. The thought merely brought a wider smile to Angel’s handsome face. Rolling her eyes, Willow walked over to the window blinds taking hold of the cord, prepared to let the sunlight shine directly over the vampire.

“Are you ready?”

Part 4

 Whew! Made it to work. Gonna kill Doyle. Those creepy guys on the bus kept staring. Doyle is a dead man.

Cordelia Chase stepped into the office and shut the door, leaning back against it as it closed. The black leather duster that she had borrowed from Angel last night was a stroke of brilliance. Okay, so he didn’t know she borrowed it. Oops! Looks like he did now.

Angel was leaning against the doorframe of the inner office while Doyle sat on the couch. Both were obviously awaiting her arrival with great interest. Stupid male grins on their faces. All because she lost a bet with Doyle— he was gonna be dead as a doornail when she was through with him.

Maybe Doyle had a right to be there grinning at her in triumph. He did win the stupid bet, after all. Angel was another story. The vampire better watch out. Lucky he was already a dead man— undead man. “What are *you* doing up so early?”

“I think that is quite obvious,” he had the nerve to reply.

“Good morning, Cordy,” Doyle chimed in eagerly noting that she was enveloped in their boss’ black leather coat from neck to ankles. All that could be seen was her head with its upswept hair bound by a clip and the four-inch heels on the boots showing at the bottom of the coat. Looked like she hadn’t chickened out after all. “Aren’t you a little warm in that thing?”

“So what if it’s already 80-degrees outside and I’m bathed in leather? Did you honestly want those construction workers on the bus to see me like this—?” Cordelia unknotted the belt revealing the outfit Doyle had selected for her twelve hours of hell.

Holding open the sides of the coat, she flashed what lay beneath before wrapping it close again. “You are such a dead man,” she muttered while watching Doyle’s eyes pop out of his head.

There was a look of fury on Angel’s face as though he had not expected the dominatrix outfit to look quite so— revealing. When he had initially described it to Cordelia, the Irishman simply talked about black boots and leather. That brief look brought back too many memories and Angel’s frown suddenly reversed itself into a soft smirk. Seeing it, Cordelia took it to mean that the vampire was following Doyle’s rotten example.

Walking up to them, Cordy made a decision. If they wanted to have fun with this— so would she! Never give in. Never surrender. By the end of the day, she’d have them begging to paint her apartment.

Opening the coat again, shrugging it off her bare shoulders, Cordelia thrust it into the arms of its owner. Angel grabbed at it, managing to catch it before it fell. His attention was— elsewhere. His dark gaze left her face almost immediately, wandering down the bare expanse of her throat to focus on the luscious curves of her breasts. Propped up by the leather corset she was wearing, Angel certainly had an eyeful. Especially since her four-inch heels raised her closer to his face.

Cordelia’s heartbeat picked up as the vampire continued to take his time looking. Those eyes dropped further to the leather mini that she knew barely covered her ass leaving her thighs exposed to his view. The rest of her legs including her knees were covered in black leather and deadly heels. Angel’s eyes sparkled with lust as he met her gaze again, but he said nothing.

Reaching behind her back, Cordelia pulled her only prop from its hidden place inside her corset— a riding crop. Pointing it directly at the vampire’s chest, she issued a warning in what she hoped was a commanding tone.

“Stay out of this, Angel,” she glared meaningfully. “If you’re a good little vampire, mind your manners— and your own business, I won’t have to punish you for interfering.”

Angel bit back his laughter. Trust Cordy to pull out all the stops in order to turn the tables on Doyle. He almost felt sorry for the man. Trying to remember that this was all in fun— despite knowing that Doyle’s affections for Cordy were very real— Angel decided to be cool about all this. Getting in the middle would only get him into hot water, but that was right where he liked it.

Clasping her wrist, Angel yanked her close causing Cordelia’s eyes to widen in surprise at his show of dominance. Leaning in toward her neck, the vampire seemed to be taking in her scent. “No sniffing!”

With his mouth up close to her, he wanted badly to taste her skin. Instead, he tilted his dark head up to her ear and whispered, “Have fun today. We’ll talk punishment later.”

Doyle watched the exchange from his spot on the couch, feeling like an interloper in a very private moment. Then Angel released Cordy and promptly disappeared into his office. “Well, I always heard vampires got off on bondage and leather. Looks like that is one more myth confirmed.”

Eew!

“What did he say to you?” Doyle asked as he got up from the couch. Then he noticed that Cordelia now towered over him. His mouth dropped open again as his eyes traveled the length of her legs.

Cordy tapped the riding crop against her thigh. A slow smile curled her lips. “He gave me permission to have my way with you, Doyle.”

“W-wh—?”

The look of sudden fear in the Irishman’s eyes gave Cordelia a little spark as she let the looping edge of the crop brush against his cheek. “The boss is gonna look the other way. If this gets outta line, Doyle, you’re gonna pay and I’m gonna enjoy it.”

Doyle wondered where his sweet ex-cheerleader had gone to. She had been transformed into this dangerously sexy creature. Gulping down the lump in his throat, he prayed that this was all an act. Yeah, he reminded himself. She was an actress. Just an act.

Tugging on his collar, Doyle suggested, “I think we need to review the rules again.”

“First off,” Cordy told him brushing past him to move to her desk. “Hands off. You can leer all you want. I suggest you look your fill because if you ever tell anyone I know about this, I’ll gouge your eyeballs out.”

“Got it,” he tried not to laugh. “Just remember that there are a few rules for you as well. That little riding crop is just a prop— no taking out your frustrations on me. If I go out, so do you and without the cover-up.”

Meeting the challenge in his gaze, Cordelia promised, “I’ll go. If you dare to make me. As soon as we’re out that door, I can tell anyone I want anything I want.”

The thought shriveled his—, “Just don’t use our real names out there. I don’t want word getting back to anyone anymore than you do.”

“Got it, poodle.”

“Poodle? I’m Irish, not French.”

“You’re a poodle if I say so,” countered Cordy sitting down. “Now go sit on the couch and leer at me while I work.”

Slumping down on the couch, Doyle put his feet up on the coffee table. This was going to be a long day. Why was it that if *he* won this bet, it was Cordelia who seemed to be having all of the fun? He did his best to brood about it, having observed the master of the broody method on many an occasion, but could not focus on it. The sight of Cordy in all that black leather was just too good to be true and so leaning back comfortably, he turned his eyes in her direction and quietly did as she commanded— he leered.

When dinnertime finally rolled around, Doyle indicated that he wanted to grab some deli sandwiches from around the corner. Cordelia had lucked out and they had no clients walk into the office, but he wanted to have a little fun before the end of the day. As promised, the girl made him wish he never set foot out the door. Now he wouldn’t be able to eat at the deli again without the guy behind the counter asking how much *meat* his girlfriend liked on her sandwich.

“That was an entirely disgusting display,” Doyle told her as they headed back across the street. “I can’t believe you said that to the man. You almost gave him a heart attack!”

Cordelia tugged at his sleeve to get the seer to slow down. Trying to keep up with him in these heels was not easy. “Warned you earlier not to take me out of the building.”

“And so you did,” he conceded reluctantly. “Just promise me one thing, Cordelia Chase.”

“What’s that?”

“Never, ever make a bet with me again,” Doyle gripped the take-out bag in his fist. “I can’t believe you said that!”

Cordy rolled her eyes. “Get over it, poodle.”

Taking her hand, Doyle led her to a short cut through the underground parking. This way she wouldn’t have to walk around the block in those heels. Going deeper into the garage, the sounds of crashing metal could be heard. “What’s that?”

Rounding a pillar, they saw Angel pinning a blond vampire against one of the cars. Cordy recognized the other vamp instantly. “Omigod! Doyle, it’s Spike.”

The sound of Cordelia’s voice distracted Angel who pulled back allowing Spike to throw another punch. They had been fighting for a while and Spike found himself getting bored. His grandsire refused to give up the whereabouts of the Ring of Amarra, which he learned was now in Angel’s possession. What did he need the bloody ring for anyway? He wasn’t even wearing it.

Seeing the two humans, Spike was inspired. A plan popped into his head. First, he would have a little fun.

“I see you still have the chit with you,” Spike nodded in Cordy’s direction between the punches. “Got her all dolled up like a proper vamp— only she’s not. Still smells human.”

Angel bashed his fist into Spike’s nose. “Don’t talk about her.”

“Yeah. I’ve heard the speech,” the younger vampire reminded. “No dreamin’, thinkin’ or touchin’. You always were stingy with your things. Never sharin’ what’s yours.”

Cordelia and Doyle were much closer now. So close that she overheard every word that came out of Spike’s big mouth. “Just tell me where the damn ring is. I’ll be out of your spiky gelled hair and on my way.”

Angel had put the ring away, where he figured no one would find it. The power granted by the gem of Amarra was a temptation that Angel felt he did not need at this point in his existence. If he had the ring as the soulless Angelus, the world would have been drowned in a bloodbath with no one to stop him.

It wasn’t the fact that Spike wanted the ring, or that he was fighting Angel to get it that caused him to vamp out. He paused, trying to control the urge to kill his grandchilde. If Spike would leave, then it wouldn’t be necessary, but the blond vamp’s attention was on Cordelia— his mate. One wrong move and Angel would forget the bonds of blood and make certain Spike would never bother her or anyone again.

Daring to speak directly to her, Spike let his blue gaze take in the corset, mini-skirt and boots. The chit certainly had a rack on her. “You look smashing. This new look suits a vampire’s—”

“Secretary,” Angel blurted out as he moved a little closer.

Spike’s head turned toward him while narrowing his gaze. “Secretary?”

“It’s the new trend in office fashion,” Doyle plugged in.

“No one asked you, mick.” Spike ignored him, walking forward a few steps, but staying far enough away not to cause the other vampire to attack him. “This is family business.”

Cordelia watched his approach warily and darted glances at Angel whose gaze remained at pinpoint focus on Spike. The blond vampire kept looking at her as if she was someone else. Family business? What was up with that? Now his head was tilted to the side as a puzzled expression appeared on his face.

“Is she a clone?” Spike asked with interest. “Still smells the same, but her scar is gone.”

What was it with vampires and neck scars? Geez, have a little surgery and suddenly everyone was a critic. “I had it removed, Bleach Brain.”

Suddenly, Spike was doubled over with laughter. “Removed? You had it removed. Oh, Angelus, you gotta love that.”

Angel hated it.

A low growl emanated from his throat as Angel moved forward, pausing only when Spike stood up straight again. He saw that the Irishman looked equally confused as he had been a moment ago. “What scar?” he asked Cordy.

Both Spike and Cordelia answered his query.

Running a hand along her throat, Cordy explained, “Barbeque fork.”

“Vampire bite,” Spike commented simultaneously.

Cordelia gaped, “What?!”

“What?!” Spike figured the chit was in denial. That or she was trying to hide something.

Angel cringed. He needed to get Spike out of here now before he revealed everything to Cordelia. How was it that his grandchilde remained unaffected by Willow’s memory spell? Damn! Spike had already left Sunnydale to go after Drusilla. He was safely out of the range of the spell when Willow cast it.

“Get out of here, Spike,” warned Angel. He was getting very, very close to losing it.

Spike figured it was a good idea. Something strange was happening here between his grandsire and the chit. Getting the ring was obviously a priority, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t have fun with this at the same time. “I’m going.”

“Good,” Angel was now at Cordelia’s side putting himself slightly in front of her as a barrier between his mate and the vampire.

“Just one thing, Peaches,” Spike said having already walked some distance away before turning around. “Make that two. The ring will be mine— and if you let your property run around without a mark on it don’t blame me if some other vamp decides to stake a claim before you do.”

Angel was about to tear after Spike when he felt a hand fisted into his jacket. “Let him go, Angel. I don’t want you hurt. Spike is too dangerous to play games with.”

“Cordelia, you don’t understand what is happening,” Angel growled still in vamp face. Now her little distraction had given Spike the precious seconds needed to escape.

Hands on her hips now and taking a stance, Cordy demanded, “Then start talking, buster. I’m getting this weird vibe that Spike knows something I don’t. Gotta tell you that is not a pleasant feeling.”

This wasn’t the time. Angel needed to think about how he was going to explain things to Cordy without *explaining* things to Cordy. There had to be a middle ground in all of this mess. “I don’t have the time.”

What?! “Well you better make the time— Peaches!”

“Why is Spike calling Angel a fruit?” Doyle whispered the question.

“Shut up, poodle!” Cordy glared at the man. “I want answers.”

Reverting to his human visage, Angel let out a long sigh. Spike had always been a royal pain in the ass, even in his days as William the Bloody. The trouble-maker in him just looked for ways to defy his grandsire. Angel wondered if this wasn’t part of a vengeance scheme on Spike’s part since he claimed that he and Dru felt abandoned after Angelus left them Europe.

“Cordy,” the vampire began to edge toward his black convertible. “Can’t talk right now. I got a call from Rachel. It’s Lenny again. She needs help.”

Rachel was one of their regulars. A girl in love with a creep who kept beating her. Angel was her dark knight, constantly rescuing her from harm. “Is she okay?”

Cordelia sounded concerned, letting go her need to have immediate answers. Following behind as Angel retrieved his car keys from the garage floor, Cordy and Doyle heard him say, “Yeah. I think so, but Lenny is out of jail. She’s afraid.”

Opening the car door, Angel paused long enough to brush his hand over Cordelia’s soft cheek. It dropped to her neck, his thumb subconsciously rubbing along the pulse there. “I want you out of danger until this thing with Spike is over. He’s out for blood.”

Glancing over at Doyle, he issued orders. “Take her to your place.”

“His place?” Cordy didn’t see the need. “Why can’t I just go home?”

“Because Spike knows you, Cordelia,” stressed Angel. Then silently added, “And now he has it in his head that he wants you— just to spite me.”

Doyle figured, “The vamp could track you down, Cordy.”

“Yeah, but he’s not invited, right. He can’t come into my apartment.”

“No, but he could burn the place to the ground,” Doyle pointed out. “If he doesn’t get what he wants, Spike might do just that.”

With a sigh, Cordelia agreed to the plan. “As long as we stop by my place long enough for me to grab some other clothes. I’m not gonna stay in this getup any longer than I have to. In fact, if Spike wants to burn something, I’ll donate it to the cause.”

Angel was in the car now, turning on the engine. Don’t say it, he cautioned himself. Keep your mouth shut. “That would be a shame, baby. You look good in leather.”

A blush crept over her face also flushing her neck and the half-exposed mounds of her breasts. Cordelia hoped her mouth wasn’t gaping open. Trying to ignore the comment that left her system charged with all kinds of tingly feelings, she asked, “What are you going to do about Spike?

“Find him first.” The convertible pulled out of the parking spot and Angel was gone into the night.

The childe of chaos has planted his seed of doubt in the mind of the Seer-to-Be. The one wildcard that might tip the scales once again away from the forces of Order, unraveling the predestined path.

Part 5

 The childe of chaos has planted his seed of doubt in the mind of the Seer-to-Be. The one wildcard that might tip the scales away from the forces of Order toward Chaos, threatening once again to unravel their predestined path.
 

After the microwave dinged, Cordelia removed and opened the popcorn bag. Moving back into the living room, she sat listening to Doyle as he argued with one of his many contacts on the phone. He’d decided to track down Spike for Angel by calling in a few favors, but it seemed that everyone he called reminded him that he was the one owing.

Having slammed down the phone, Doyle flopped back onto the couch. “No luck. So, you were telling me about Spike.”

The constant phone calls kept interrupting. “Oh, yeah. Spike’s nearly done Buffy in a few times. I mentioned that he’s killed two Slayers already?”

“You did.”

“Oh, and this one time he and Dru raised this demon that burned people from the inside. It was this whole weird thing with an arm in a box.” Cordy thought back to the night of Buffy Summer’s birthday party.

Doyle didn’t get it. “An arm in a box?”

Nodding, Cordelia was about to explain further when the phone rang again. With a sigh, she realized that gossiping with Doyle was not taking her mind off the things that Spike said back at the garage. Now she couldn’t seem to get the vampire out of her head. What was it about the things he said that gave her such a wiggins?

Maybe it wasn’t just what he said, but the way he reacted— hiding nothing, putting it all out there for her to see. Acting as if *she* was the one with the faulty memory instead of him, the lame brain! Spike barely knew her. So what made him think he was an expert on Cordelia Chase?!

Munching on her popcorn, Cordy shifted in the chair swinging her legs over the side. She had changed into shorts and a t-shirt, wearing her hair long and loose. It felt oh so good to be out of that dreaded slutwear. Though it certainly made Doyle and Angel stand up and take notice in more ways than one— as if she hadn’t seen that coming the minute she got dressed this morning.

Spike noticed too and was surprised that she wasn’t a vampire. Maybe slutwear was the in thing for female vamps this season, she mused. Or every season. Oh, yeah! He’d been surprised to find her human, but not at all surprised that she was here in L.A. with Angel.

Did Angel send his vampire family regular updates on email? Hah! She could imagine Spike’s reply. Dear Peaches, Drusilla and I are still basking in the afterglow our latest bloodletting! Cordy paused in her popcorn munching long enough to scrunch up her nose. Eew! So not happening.

More like he was spying on Buffy and the Scoobies. No doubt Willow told them all about her little talk with Angel and how Cordelia was now working as his secretary. Thinking about it, Cordy conceded that it was not true either. When Angel told him about her being here as his secretary, Spike looked— bewildered.

Maybe he imagined the other things Angel could be doing with her rather than having her typing and filing. Yeah. Other things. Probably things that involved her and black leather. Not that Angel would think them. Not seriously. Except for that taunt this morning about letting her have her fun and talking punishment later.

Cordelia’s mouth quirked into a smile. Geez, that vampire was hot! Those dark eyes had sparkled in mischief— and lust as he looked at her. Angel hadn’t tried to hide the fact that he found her sexy in Doyle’s carefully selected slutwear. Too bad the vampire had left them alone most of the day, letting them wage their little battle over the outcome of the bet without him playing referee. Now sorry she had warned him off, Cordelia realized that playing Doyle’s little dominatrix game with Angel in the mix might have been fun.

The thought made Cordy sit up with a start as she realized the direction of her thoughts.

Angel was a vampire and her boss, not someone who should be driving her imaginiation wild. After experiencing the nightmare that was Angelus, even Buffy had to think twice about getting groiny with Angel again. Cordelia wasn’t about to begin now.

So maybe Spike had picked up on the fact that she didn’t like seeing blood and bruises marring Angel’s handsome face. Caring wasn’t allowed unless it came in the form of being Angel’s human pet? The blond vampire had gone on about his grandsire being greedy with his *property* and actually had the nerve to imply that she was it. Cordelia once read in a demonology book at the Sunnydale library that vampires were possessive creatures.

Pfft! Possessive and obsessive was more like it. Cordy didn’t need a book to tell her that.

That didn’t mean she was at Angel Investigations as the Bride of Dracula! Since when had she ever given that impression? Was she wearing a sign that screamed— bite me?”

Yeah. He obviously thought it should be on her neck considering the way he had wigged out at the scar-free zone. What’s with his big deal? People usually freaked when seeing a scar— not the lack of one. As far as she knew, Spike had not even been around for the barbeque fork incident.

Or was he? Actually, Cordelia couldn’t even remember the accident, just what Joyce had explained. So why was Spike so certain she had been bitten by a vampire? The shock on his face at her explanation was honest enough, even though Angel had told her Spike was a masterful liar. Why lie about that? It meant nothing— except for the huge bill she was still paying off for having it removed. Anything that dented into her shoe-purchasing power was significant.

Spike seemed to hint at things that never happened. Bitten by a vampire? Cordelia felt sure she would remember being munched on. Spike probably just had her mixed up with someone else.

Cordy mulled over the idea with obvious doubt. No way! A guy forgetting Sunnydale’s Queen C? Not gonna happen, even if that guy was an evil bloodsucking vampire.

So if Spike knew who she was, expected to find her here with a vampire scar on her neck while possibly considering that fact she might actually *be* a vampire— who did the biting? It came to her with a clarity that frightened her. Now she really had a wiggins!

Angel.

Spike actually thought it was Angel. He thought Angel bit her, marked her, made her his.

“Didya hear me, Cordy?” Doyle’s Irish brogue cut through her private musings. “Tell me you’ve been listening to the plan?”

What plan? She simply shifted her head in his direction. “Plan?”

Doyle rubbed a hand on the back of his neck. “I’ve had three phone calls while you’ve been staring at the wall tossing that popcorn into your mouth.”

“I would have shared.”

“That’s not the point,” Doyle grumbled. “You should be thinking about Spike and Angel, not daydreaming about Keanu Reeves again or whichever movie star has given you that sultry glaze in your eyes.”

Cordelia opened her mouth to shove his assumptions right back at him, “I *was* thinking about Spike and Angel.”

“Oh.” Doyle gave her a stark stare. “Then what do you have to say? Have you come to any startling conclusions?”

“Yeah,” Cordy told him as her hand drifted to her throat. “Spike is a dumbass! I think it must run in the family.”

Doyle grabbed the half-empty popcorn bag out of her hands, shoving a few kernels into his mouth before filling Cordelia in on what she had missed. One of his contacts came through at last. Angel called immediately after that, received the news with a growl of satisfaction and headed off to the Orbit Room to find Manny the Pig. Manny apparently had the low-down on Spike.

“So what’s this great plan?”

“That was it,” Doyle responded while grabbing another handful of popcorn.

He handed the near-empty bag to Cordelia. “So Angel goes to the Orbit Room, beats up a man named Piggy who is supposed to play nice and tell him where Spike is hiding? Then Angel kicks Spike’s ass out of town?”

Nodding, Doyle told her she had it. Close enough for starters, anyway. Getting out of the chair, Cordelia paced around as she started feeling nervous. She had no doubt that Angel could win against Spike in a fair fight. He was taller, stronger and more experienced than the younger vampire.

“I don’t like this,” she admitted clutching at her suddenly queasy her stomach.

“Spike not only threatened Angel,” Doyle reminded Cordelia, “— he threatened you. If you believe Angel is going to sit around and wait for Spike to make his move, you don’t know our vampire boss half as well as you imagine.”

Cordy let out a long sigh as she stared over at the telephone. “He’s gonna call, right? To let us know if he found Spike.”

“He’ll be okay.”

“Spike doesn’t fight fair,” she cried out.

“Don’t worry about it,” Doyle pointed out that Angel had a distinct advantage. “He’s got the Ring of Amarra.”

“Spike said he wasn’t wearing it!” Cordelia couldn’t believe that Angel would take it off. Now that she thought about it, he had not even left the building to bask in the sun. Dumb vampire! He preferred to brood in the darkness even when the light could be his for the taking.

Doyle stopped short, having been pacing opposite to her tract. “Damn! You’re right.”

“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” Cordy asked.

“If you’re thinking that we should haul ass back to the office and start looking for the damn ring and get it to Angel,” Doyle began already reaching for his car keys, “then I’m thinking I we’re thinking the same thing.”

Across town, Spike was already in the process of ransacking Angel’s place. Looking in every nook and cranny, tipping over canisters, boxes, cups and chairs in search of the ring’s hiding place, he let out a growl of frustration when he came up empty handed.

“This is getting old real fast. If I was a ring— where would I be?”

Now he was in Angel’s bedroom. Dark and sedate. Understated. Subtle. Except for the huge bed with its iron framework. Nothing subtle about that. Grinning, Spike paused in his search long enough to check the bed-frame for signs that Angel and his hot-blooded mate were having fun and games.

Angel had called her his secretary, stopping him from referring to Cordelia Chase as his mate. Spike hadn’t figured that one out yet. The chit had the guts to remove the mark of Angelus’ claim, yet remained here with him. Funny that none of her clothes were in the closet, he noted. Spike was digging through the drawers of a high-boy dresser when he found a small framed photograph of Angel, Cordelia and Buffy.

“Why isn’t this on display?” Spike looked down at the photo with a wry smirk. “Looks like Slutty the Vampire Slayer got left behind in Sunnydale. Poor Slutty! Missing out on that vampire loving. Someone ought to fix that.”

Giving up on finding the ring, Spike took the stairs at a gallop. He was standing directly in front of the desk near the entrance when he detected the scent of apples and cinnamon an instant before he heard soft footfalls and sound of her breathing. “Hello, chit.”

Spike turned to find Cordelia holding a crossbow aimed at his chest. She was dressed in the burgundy and gold colors of her old high school. Shorts and a t-shirt. Nothing fancy like the designer clothes she used to wear. Unfortunately, neither was it skin-tight black leather making him want to sink his face between the corset-enhanced cleavage of her breasts.

Disappointed, Spike found himself pouting a little. Not that he hated the cheerleader look, but the effect was quite different. “Where’s the leather, luv?”

“I donated it to Goodwill.”

“Too bad,” the vampire told her with a shrug. “Angel does like that leather and lace look on his women.”

“Stop saying that,” Cordelia raised the crossbow just a little higher.

Doyle stepped into the room now carrying a gun. Warning, “That’s close enough.”

Irritated, Spike tossed up his hands before settling them on his narrow hips. “What’s with you guys running in packs? Who the hell are you again, mate?”

“More than meets the eye,” Doyle figured a half-demon could give a vampire a run for his money as long as the fight didn’t last too long.

“Ooh, the Mick’s got spine!” Spike chortled before threatening, “Maybe I’ll snap it in two.”

Since the evil vampire didn’t seem to be kidding, Cordelia reminded him that they were not exactly defenseless. “Do you want me to use this?”

“You’ll be dead before that arrow leaves the bow.”

Gulp! Nope. Wasn’t kidding. Cordy let the bow slip down again.

“Now, where was I?” Spike took up where he left off. “Put that gun away, Irish. I’ve got other uses for you and the chit. I’m bloody tired of looking for that ring. I think you two should take over.”

“Why would we help you?”

Spike realized that he had forgotten to tell them. They were gonna love this. “Well, Mick, it’s because I have your boss chained up and bleeding. Marcus— the vampire I’ve hired on this special occasion— is an expert in doling out pain. He’s a bloody king of torture, he is. Humans, demons, politicians— makes no difference.”

His audience of two was gaping in horror at the dark images in their heads. Spike loved it. Now he was having fun again. Continuing, “Some say Marcus invented some of the classics, but he won’t tell me which ones. Beneath that cool exterior, you’ll find he’s a very shy guy— except with kids.”

“Kids?” Cordy asked.

“His favorite bedtime snack.” Spike explained, “He apparently likes them for breakfast, lunch and dinner, too.”

Eew! Vampires could be so— evil. Cordelia glared at Spike with all the hatred she could muster. “Why are you doing this to Angel? He’s your blood.”

“Because I bloody well WANT MY RING!” He yelled, adding, “And because the bastard deserves it. Stupid poof! Won’t tell me where he’s got it hidden.”

“You’re an idiot, Spike,” claimed Doyle still holding the gun on him.

“You think?” Spike had a hand on his chest demonstrating a hurt look. “Because I’m not the one who fell into my trap when his little minions fed him the wrong information. I’m not the one chained to a ceiling with hot pokers in my side.”

The blast of the gun went off, the bullet lodging in the floor between Spike’s booted feet. “That was a warning shot, vampire.”

Cordelia nearly jumped out of her skin at the gunshot, then had to watch Spike’s reaction as he lunged at the dark-haired seer, fangs exposed in fury. The gun was ripped out of Doyle’s grip in one moment and the Irishman was laid out cold on the floor the next. It had taken Spike only seconds, during which time Cordy was too surprised to respond.

“Hey!” Cordelia finally managed a protest then remembered that she had a crossbow in her hands. Without thinking about the consequences, she pulled the trigger.

Spike dodged the arrow. As it thudded into the wall, he was already pulling it out of her grip, tossing the weapon to the floor. With both hands on her upper arms, he held her up against the hard wall of his chest, baring her neck to his fangs. Cordelia shrieked in protest only to feel Spike’s mouth whispering across the sensitive skin over her pulsing carotid artery.

Then he— was sniffing her. What was it with vampires and the sniffing?

“S-Spike,” she pleaded when he did not chomp down right away. “Don’t do this. Let me go. Let Angel go.”

Her body jerked in response to the moist sensation of the flat of his tongue licking her hot flesh. Shuddering, Cordelia wondered when he would get on with the biting. The vampire lifted his head to comment, “You taste like him, you know.”

Turning her head, Cordelia gave him a startled look. “What?!”

“There is just a hint of it wafting close to your skin,” Spike’s expression had changed from fury to wonder. Having a human as a mate had to be a challenge, constantly wanting to taste as well as touch. This taste he noticed did not come from Angel holding onto her hot-n-sweaty naked body after a good hard shag, but from within.

Changing his mind about draining the chit, Spike pulled her toward the desk. “C’mon. I have a better idea. Grab that pen and write your annoying Irish pal a little note. Tell him to look for the ring. He can bring it to me if he finds it— I’ll give you the address.”

Doing as instructed, Cordelia had no choice but to drop the note on Doyle chest. Spike’s punch had knocked him out cold. Then the vampire grabbed her by the wrist, leading her outside to his car. That was how they’d known he was inside. Should have just let him drive away and follow him back to his hideout, but no! Doyle wanted to confront Spike.

Men! What was it that constantly drove them into these testosterone challenges? Looked like Doyle wasn’t gonna like the outcome of this one. At least he was alive, the dumbass!

Tossing Cordelia into the passenger seat of his car, Spike ordered her to stay put while he walked around to the other side. As if she was going to leave! He obviously planned to take her to Angel even if it was for his own evil purposes. If she was gonna die, then at least she would get to see him again.

That thought disturbed Cordelia, sending her into a brooding mode that would challenge Angel on his grumpiest days. “Do as I say once we get inside,” came her instructions. “I can’t guarantee that Marcus won’t take an interest in torturing you in front of Angel.”

You mean that wasn’t already the plan?

“Besides, that’s my job!”

Oh. Well that made sense.

next