The Next Connection

Author: Lysa

Parts: 6 - 10

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
 
 

Part 6

 “You did terrible things when you were bad, didn’t you?” Marcus wasn’t really asking. He had an enhanced, innately vampiric ability to sense emotions and skim the surface of thoughts floating across the mind’s eye. “And now you’re trying so hard to do good. But Angel, there is nothing either bad or good, but thinking makes it so.”

While the vampire concentrated on his pained expression, Angel was busy trying to pick up the stake that Spike had earlier dropped on the floor managing to capture it between his shoes.

“What do you want, Angel? I think I know, but I’d like to hear it from you. The truth. I’ll know if you’re lying.”

Focusing through the pain of his injuries, Angel paused in thought at the question. What did he want? What did anyone want being faced with the memories he possessed— or the emotional weight bearing down on his shoulders each day?

“I want— forgiveness.”

“Yes,” Marcus sensed. “That’s the truth— and you want to earn it. You’re not the type that takes the easy way out. This is why I like you so much. In the end you won’t feel guilt— or remorse— or anything but pure darkness. In the end— the ring, the past— none of it will mean anything anymore. You’ll be free. I promise.”

Angel could feel the truth of his words. This vampire knew he possessed a soul and he planned to torture it right out of him. There was a growing darkness inside Angel as he suffered through the slicing knives and body-wracking pokers. One he feared would win as his demon soared to the surface in its own defense. Not that Angel planned to let it get that far.

“And I promise,” he began, swinging up his legs in a surprise move to drive the stake between his feet into Marcus’ chest, “— to kill you.”

Catching Angel’s legs mid-motion, Spike censured his grandsire, “Now, now, staking the torturer is strictly prohibited.”

Marcus backhanded Angel across the face, leaving his mouth dripping dark black blood. It was the first time the tall vampire had lost his cool. “Easy, big fella,” Spike tried to calm him, “I still need that ring.”

Glowering, Marcus walked back to the table where his torture devices were spread out. As he moved away, Spike leaned over to Angel’s ear, “Now you’ve made him mad. I wouldn’t want to be in your chains.”

With Spike standing so close, Angel caught a familiar scent. Cordelia! “Where is she, Spike? What have you done? If you’ve so much as touched—”

“You’re not exactly in a position to threaten me, Peaches,” laughed Spike. Turning toward the warehouse entrance, he called out, “Get your cute little ass in here, luv.”

“You brought her here?” Angel forgot his pain as he saw the woman he loved enter the building. God no! He knew exactly what Marcus’ reaction would be and there was no telling what Spike would do.

Marcus stopped, quickly taking in the sight of the beautiful young woman and noting Angel’s response. This was the one, he realized, the vampire’s mate— a human. The thought did not really surprise him considering the soul, considering the vampire’s heart was suffused with love. He read it in Angel’s face. Fear. Not for himself. For her.

She approached the trio of vampires at a cautiously slow, steady pace barely sparing a glance at Marcus or Spike. Cordelia’s entire being was focused on Angel. Oh, God! Oh God! Look at him! Hanging from the ceiling, his hands gripped the chains binding his wrists in order to hold himself in place. The toes of his shoes barely touched the floor.

There were bloody gashes on his chest where his shirt lay open baring his pale skin to her view. A long poker pierced his abdomen going through to the other side. A dagger was stuck in one clothed thigh. Other wounds were scattered from place to place. Cordelia did not bother asking Spike for permission to approach Angel, she simply walked up to stand directly in front of the chained vampire.

Reaching out with a trembling hand and with tears in her eyes, Cordelia pressed her palm against the one area of his abdomen still smooth- not poked, sliced or covered in blood. It was difficult to speak since her throat seemed to be closing up, strangling her, keeping the scream in her head from pouring forth. Finally, she managed to whisper his name.

“A-Angel.”

That was when Spike realized that the chit loved Angel, too— despite removing his mark and acting as if she had forgotten that she was his mate. Bloody hell! This was a damned fine mess.

All Spike wanted was the Gem of Amarra that he had gone through so much trouble to get before it was stolen by Slutty the Slayer. It was his! Spike figured on a little torture being be good for his stodgy old grandsire. Never had any fun anymore— the vamp had turned into a broody detective. Angelus would have staked himself first if he ever had a choice in the matter of his soul.

Spike hadn’t planned to kill Angel. Not really. Not unless he refused cough up the location of the ring.

Now Angel had gone and tried to kill Marcus, pissing the vampire off just when Spike arrived with Cordelia Chase. Now instead of killing Angel, it was perfectly clear that the vampire who designed torture methods for his own personal pleasure was going to focus on the cheerleader. This wouldn’t be pleasant. The glint in Marcus’ eyes suggested that he already had something in mind.

“This is an interesting twist, Spike,” he commended the vampire for his ingenuity. “By capturing Angel’s mate, you provide me with the leverage we need.”

Hearing the words, Cordelia’s brain processed them leaving behind more confusion. Yet another vampire who thought she had a thing with Angel. And this one was making a lot more out of the connection that Spike did, now promoting her from wannabe vampire slut to mate. Her heart ached at the thought— but why?

This was Angel. Her boss. Her friend. Buffy Summer’s vampire boyfriend. Was it former boyfriend? Not likely. Not with the star-crossed lover thing they shared.

Angel knew a moment of panic as Marcus acknowledged Cordelia as his mate. There was no doubt in his mind that the vampire would take advantage of that connection. Looking down into his love’s hazel eyes, Angel saw that there was a war going on in their pooling depths. Confusion vied for victory and seemed to be winning. Between Spike and Marcus commenting on a relationship that she couldn’t remember and the recognition of his own feelings in her eyes, Angel figured that she didn’t know what to think.

“Cordy,” he implored. “Don’t be scared, baby. Spike will look after you— he won’t let anything happen.”

Giving the younger vampire a harsh glare, Angel extracted a silent promise.

What did that matter? “I don’t care about Spike.”

“You should,” warned Marcus now standing behind her. Reaching forward, he threaded a finger through the loose strands of her hair.

Spike caught the vampire’s wrist, his game face in place. “She’s mine.”

“Am not!” Cordelia huffed, never minding the fact that Spike was trying to defend her against the *other* evil vampire in the room.

“So too!” Spike argued. “Peaches just gave you to me.”

Angel growled, but said nothing to provoke his grandchilde. Spike was the only thing standing between Cordelia and a brutal, painful death.

Marcus yanked his hand away, heading back to his table of torture devices to select the first instrument he would use on the female.

Just as Marcus was returning with a pair of needle-nosed pliers, a van burst through the side of the warehouse, ramming through a stack of barrels and coming to a screeching halt behind Angel. Marcus rolled out of its way to avoid being run over and scampered out of the path of the sunbeams now pouring into one side of the room.

Doyle leaned out of the window from the driver’s side, holding something in his hand. “I have it, Spike. I’ve got the ring. Let Angel and Cordelia go.”

“Give it here, mate.”

“Not until you remove those chains and put Angel in the van,” he negotiated by waving the ring at the vampire.

Spike shrugged, releasing Angel from his chains and hauling him over to the side door. The poker and dagger were still in place, but the vampire figured to let Angel’s mate fix him up. Turning to Doyle, “I did what you wanted, Irish. Now give me my bloody ring!”

Smirking, Doyle tossed it to the other side of the warehouse.

With a hand on her elbow, Spike helped Cordelia climb into the van. “Best to get going, luv. Marcus is pissed. Don’t worry your pretty head about it. I’m not gonna come after you and yours again— not for a while, anyway. Just wanted the ring.”

Watching as the van backed out of the building, Spike turned to face Marcus knowing that this would not be a pleasant conversation— but one helluva fight. The vampire was standing in the shadows, also observing the departure. Then he stepped up to the open hole in the warehouse wall before walking freely into the sun.

“Bloody hell! He’s got my ring!” Spike had figured on Marcus being so addicted to his little torture sessions that he wouldn’t be interested in the Gem of Amarra. Damn! Angel had been right about this too, the blasted know-it-all.

Doyle pulled over at the corner. Now that they were outside, he figured they’d be safe. Moving out of the driver’s seat, he asked Cordelia how Angel was doing. The vampire had removed the dagger and poker, but there were gaping wounds that didn’t seem to stop bleeding.

“We need to get him to a hospital,” there was a growing panic in her gaze.

“I hear you,” Doyle sympathized, “but which one? You see, they all tend to specialize in humans.”

Cordelia’s eyes were pleading. “Do something!”

After a pause, Doyle nodded. Climbing back into the driver’s seat, he told her, “I know a few guys— hey! That’s Marcus. Over on the corner near the pier.”

“So? Just get us out of here.” What did Cordelia care about that creepy vampire when her own was bleeding in her arms?

“You don’t understand, Cordy,” gasped Doyle as he realized it. “He’s standing in full sunlight. That means Marcus has the ring— he’s got the Gem of Amarra.”

Angel stirred in Cordelia’s arms, issuing orders despite the significance of his injuries. “Go after him, Doyle. I have to stop him.”

Glancing in the rearview mirror as he pulled away from the curb, Doyle saw Cordelia hugging empty air. That always got to him— no reflection. “You’re on death’s toast, man. You’re in no shape to be fighting a torture demon.”

Cordelia had to agree, until something Spike had said about Marcus popped into her head. “Doyle— there will be children at the pier. Marcus has a thing for kids.”

As the seer stepped on the gas, Angel attempted to rouse himself enough to sit up straight. The blood loss had left him weak and dizzy. “Can’t let someone like that keep the ring. Not someone like Angelus— someone who would stop at nothing to get what he wants no matter the cost.”

Frowning, Cordelia realized that in Angel’s current condition going up against a vampire who was now supposedly invulnerable would not be of the good. Begging him not to do this would be futile. This was what a champion did, she realized, even if it left the rest of them behind to mourn.

With a grip on the door handle, Angel turned to her, cupping her face with his free hand. He said nothing, merely staring into her eyes with his full of regret, determination and— something more. His thumb brushed across the soft fullness of her lips just before his hand dropped away. The van halted. Angel flung open the door, squinting into the bright sunlight as he spotted his quarry.

There was a cry on Cordelia’s lips as Angel leapt onto the pier running in a straight path for Marcus. Under the direct light of a cloudless California sky, the vampire immediately began to flame. Only his long years of existence gave him the precious seconds to reach the other demon— who was now standing near a group of grade-schoolers— just a small bit of luck that would have had younger vamps exploding under the sun’s harsh rays.

Wrapping his arms around Marcus, still running at full throttle despite his injuries, Angel sent them crashing over the railing. Darting out of the van, Cordelia and Doyle raced to the broken railing seeing nothing, but the bubbling trail left behind. Running back down the pier for the stairs, they descended the beach below.

“Doyle!” Calling out nervously, Cordelia held onto his sleeve while scanning for any sign of Angel. “Where is he? Do you see anything?”

“No.” He answered her knowing that Angel might have been dust before he hit the water. “No, I don’t see— wait— look over there!”

Under the pier, Marcus and Angel emerged from the water. Sheltered here from the sun, Angel fought with every ounce of strength left within him. While Marcus was an expert in torture techniques, he didn’t exactly have the best moves in a brawl. Not that it seemed to matter— he was invulnerable thanks to the power of the ring.

“What were you planning to do?” Marcus grinned at his opponent who was tiring. “Kill me?”

Refusing to give up, Angel snarled, “Well, after all, I promised.”

Continuing to fight, they taunted each other. Finally, Angel told the vampire, “You never cracked me, Marcus. You tried, and you failed.”

Then Angel swung the other vamp around impaling him against one of the protruding wooden boards they had broken during the fight. “Now that’s got to hurt.”

Marcus looked down at his pierced chest in amazement. He felt like laughing. This was great! Nothing could stop him, even this.

Then Angel reached down while Marcus was distracted by his power to withstand what equated to a stake through the heart. Grasping onto the Gem of Amarra, Angel pulled the ring off Marcus’ finger. Pain suffused his chest where moments ago there had been only a pleasant tickle. Letting out a scream, Marcus turned to dust, his ashes blowing off into the wind and mixing with the salted waves of the sea.

Glancing at the ring centered in his palm, Angel thought back to the first time he had put it on his finger. Like then, he felt a rush of power. His wounds started to close, healing in seconds. And now, it was time to step into the sunlight for the first time. He was suddenly glad that he told Willow Rosenberg not to open the blinds that day, for it made this even more significant.

Shadowing his eyes from the harsh light, Angel moved forward out of the water until he was standing on the beach. Soaking wet in clothes that were scorched and ripped, Angel felt the radiating warmth of the sunlight on his face for the first time in over two hundred years.

Then he heard them calling out his name.

“Angel!” Cordy’s voice carried across the sands as she waved at him. With her shoes in her hands, she was running behind the Irishman.

Doyle was grinning ear to ear. Hugging the vampire, he pounded his back as if to make certain his friend was really there and not a vision. “You made it man!”

Smiling, Angel couldn’t find the words to thank Doyle for showing up just in time to save them— to save Cordelia from Marcus’ wrath and Spike’s stupid quest for the ring.

“I can’t believe it! Angel!” Arriving in a whirlwind, Cordelia opened her arms around both men hugging them and squealing in delight, having dropped her shoes to the sand. Doyle stepped away as Cordy started to jump around like she was on a dangerous pogo stick. “Angel, this is great! You’re alive— or still undead— or whatever! You’re here.”

Flinging herself into Angel’s welcoming arms, Cordelia hugged him tight. She stayed there for a moment, with her cheek on his chest, just reassured by the feel of his strong arms. Angel’s cheek was nuzzling the top of her head, perhaps signaling that she was not the only one in need of comfort.

“Your wounds!” Cordelia pulled back looking for signs of his injuries. Running her hands over his back, arms and chest, she finally realized that they were gone. “Angel, this ring is amazing. Think of all the good you can do if you’re not hampered by daylight.”

“I haven’t thought that far ahead,” Angel admitted. He wasn’t past thinking about the feel of her in his arms.

His hands moved down from her shoulders to the small of her waist, pulling her into him. Needing to have her close. As she felt his body’s reaction to her nearness, Cordelia darted her eyes back to his face. Angel was looking at her in a way she’d never seen before— with an intensity that almost scared her.

Touching her face, Angel smiled softly. His voice was almost a whisper, as she spoke the words from his heart. “You’re beautiful in daylight. There is such a glow about your skin when it’s kissed by the sunshine.”

Cordelia’s mouth dropped open at Angel’s romantic turn of phrase. No, surely she wasn’t hearing this. Was the vampire delirious? Did he think she was Buffy? Even as the thought came to her, she dismissed it. With his injuries gone, Cordy was certain any confusion had also been washed away.

“Well Angel looks like a drowned rat,” Doyle pointed out reminding them both of his existence. “I suggest we get back to the van before someone has it towed.”

Questioning, Angel asked him, “Where did you get that van, anyway?”

“Manny the Pig,” Doyle confirmed. “Spike’s instructions included permission to borrow the Pig’s little love shack on wheels.”

Eew!

Cordelia scrunched up her nose, realizing why the white van’s interior décor appeared so gauche. The seer headed back up the beach toward the stairs leaving Angel and Cordelia to follow. Bending down, Cordy picked up her tennis shoes with one hand and then held out the other for Angel. As he placed his hand in hers, Cordelia stared down at the silver ring with its bright gem.

“Without this, you would still be in danger,” she felt a swell of relief filling her chest. “I almost lost you today.”

Angel watched as Cordelia pressed a grateful kiss onto the ring, and then turned his hand over to do the same to his palm. Before lifting her lips away, the vampire had yanked her back into his arms. Cupping her face with both hands, he bent down to kiss her mouth. The sound of her gasp drowned in the wake of Angel’s tongue sweeping close, brushing against her lips, darting into her center— pressing close for more.

Her shoes were on the sand again as Cordelia grasped her fingers around the loose fabric of Angel’s shirt holding on tight. Mmm! His kisses felt so good, so right, and so familiar. She pushed herself closer into the circle of his arms as they moved around to bring her hips flush with his, raising her to her bare tiptoes to do so. Her breasts swelled against his chest, the nipples hard and tingly as she crushed them against his sculpted torso.

How long they kissed was anyone’s guess— except Doyle's. He’d been timing them on his watch from his spot at the bottom of the steps. Five long torturous minutes of playing the voyeur was enough to make him want to puke. If those two didn’t break it up soon, they would be enacting a risqué version of the beach scene in ‘From Here to Eternity’.

Doyle’s heart was flooded with mixed emotions. Too many to spell out. He simply felt them all, realizing that this was not a scene he could quit. The Powers that Be had called him to be Angel’s seer and that meant Cordelia would be here by his side. Something deep down inside had told him the girl was always meant for their champion. It almost made sense in the cosmic scheme of things. Not that he knew the cosmic scheme— Doyle just had a better picture of it than most. Or thought he did.

Part 7

 What say you, lower beings? Do your fairy stories tell it true— these childhood tales rooted in the depths of dark fantasy and deeper mores? Does the spell break with true love’s kiss? We Oracles can tell you that fantasy and reality are often separated by a thin thread.
 

The ride back from the pier descended into awkward silence as the trio climbed into Manny the Pig’s rolling love shack and headed for the offices of Angel Investigations.

Doyle was driving. He kept his eyes on the road and his ears closed. Not that there was anything to hear except the sound of a little heavy breathing. And not because Angel and Cordelia decided to take up where they left off at the beach. They had to be aware that he had seen them kissing— for *five minutes* at that— while he waited on the steps leading to the pier.

Feeling a little like a third person on a bicycle built for two, Doyle figured he would get off this unbearable ride at the next stop. “Look, you two. I need to get the Pig’s van back to the Orbit Room before Spike shows up. I’ll drop you off at the office and bring back your car later.”

Neither one argued the fact that they could have all gone to the Orbit Room to pick up the vampire’s convertible. Doyle wondered if they even heard him. They’d been locked into their kissy-faced mode for so long it looked like Angel and Cordy had trouble finding the energy to talk. Maybe it was just that their tongues were too tired to form words.

Oh God! Oh God! Oh God!

Cordelia’s mantra repeated on a continuous cycle of brain-freezing shock as she stared at the stock-still vampire sitting across from her. Kissing Angel. Mmm! Kissing Angel had been— Mmm!

Oh God! Oh God! Oh God!

She had been so happy to see him. That ring was amazing. Just amazing. Healed him up in seconds. No active bleeding. No wounds in fact. He looked pale, but alive in the sun. Looked so— wet with that shirt stuck to his muscled chest that way. One second she was hugging him. Happy. Just happy. Grateful to that damned ring for saving him, healing him. Then she did it— the dumb thing. That stupid thing. Kissed the ring. Touched her mouth to his skin.

Oh God! Oh God! Oh God!

Was it any wonder the vampire went a little grabby on her? Kissed her until sunbursts exploded in her head— yeah, really kissed her. Mmm!

Oh God! How could she be so dumb? For an instant, just an instant, Cordelia had felt like they were in love. Just two people in love on a beach in the sun. Sand between her naked toes, wind in her hair, warmth on her skin and a wet Angel in her arms. What more could a girl want?

Oh God! Oh God! Oh God!

Angel pressed himself as far back in the seat as was possible, holding his body perfectly erect against the leather backing of the swivel chair. Reminding himself that this was reality and not some stolen moment on a sandy beach with the woman he loved— and still couldn’t have— he gripped the arms of the chair until his nails dug into the leather. Cordelia sat across from him, staring at him like a startled deer faced with a predator.

Was that how she saw it? Could she be thinking of him like a predator stalking his prey? Not for food, though. It was something else he wanted and that was as frankly obvious as the stiff rod of flesh in his pants.

That wasn’t how it started. No. It started with her smile, then her touch, and then the soft press of her lips against his hand. After that, his instincts took over. How long had it been during these eternal months without her that he had been starved for her kisses? Missing the taste of her and the feel of her arms around him?

The vampire scowled as he thought about his weakness for Cordelia Chase. He couldn’t stop— he crossed the barrier he’d set up for himself. Pulling her into his arms. Kissing her breathless. She was still breathing hard. Panting, sucking the air into her lungs like he had taken it away.

Angel supposed he had. Her breath, the sweet taste of her. Apples and cinnamon- that special mix that was the essence of her blood, body and soul.

The ache in his groin was slowly subsiding as his anger at himself increased, but the ache in his heart worsened with each passing moment. Over the past few weeks— she hadn’t even been back with him two months yet— Cordelia had started to trust him once again. Without her memories of the year they had spent together, all that she had left was a false impression of his relationship with Buffy Summers and the knowledge that he had always kept her safe. That he watched over her even, if it was only on the periphery of her life in Sunnydale as a quasi-member of the Scooby Gang.

That was the extent of what he knew went into Willow’s spell. Those magicks returned Cordelia’s memory to a time when she had something to fear from vampires, even him, filling it in with falsehood. A time when her memory did not include the fact that their souls were connected, that she kept him grounded— kept his soul intact and his demon bound.

Only his demon had kept crawling to the surface, playing the games that vampires liked to play. Doing so with Cordelia— his owb mate. Potentially endangering her human existence with every touch.

This kiss— this moment on the sand, it was too dangerous. It flashed like a neon sign in his head. Warning! Warning! Angel wanted nothing more than to pull Cordelia back into his arms. Here and now. Forgetting that they were in the back of the Pig’s love shack van and that Doyle was driving— but he couldn’t let that happen. Not again. No, he wouldn’t let it happen again.

Cordelia was human. As long as she was human, he would be tempted. The call of his demon remained strong and this kiss proved that nothing had changed. Some part of him deep down past the point where his soul held a higher purpose for their union, Angel was still a demon wanting its demon mate.

“We’re here,” Doyle turned around in the driver’s seat after putting the van into park.

They were still staring at each other, he noted wryly, both looking frightened by the fact that they probably wanted to rip each other’s clothes off and didn’t know if they could make it to the door. Well that was something he did not want to see or be a part of in any way, shape or form. Doyle’s heart ached acutely for Cordelia. While he recognized that Cordy had never shown him anything other than flirtatious affection, he had to wonder what might have been if the vampire hadn’t been around.

Rising out of the seat, Doyle stood up and moved to open the van door. “Out you get.”

They moved, finally. The half-Irish demon seer didn’t wait for them to get inside. With a hard grip, Doyle shifted the van into drive and pulled away from the curb.

Once inside the building, Cordelia followed Angel down the hall to the office. It was then that they got a reprieve from their mutual fears.

“What happened here?” Angel was agape as he took in the sight of the wrecked office.

Cordy had forgotten. “Spike’s handiwork. He was looking for the ring.”

“He had to turn over the file cabinet? There are papers everywhere.” The vampire felt a renewed sense of irritation at his grandchilde.

“Doyle obviously found the ring,” she said. “Where was it?”

“Sewer.”

Eew! “I wouldn’t have thought to look there. Wonder how he found it.”

Angel figured that he used some of his demon skills, but then Cordy did not know Doyle was part demon. Considering her feelings for vampires, Angel wasn’t going to be the one to tell her. Righting furniture and picking up broken coffee mugs as he went, Angel took in the mess that they were going to have to clean up.

“We should get started on this,” Angel suggested, deciding it was a good distraction from thoughts of kissing her again now that they were alone.

The thought of cleaning had no appeal whatsoever. “Actually, Angel. I’m really tired. It’s been over twenty-four hours since I had any sleep. All of this— excitement has finally hit home. Gotta get some shut-eye.”

“Oh.” Angel had not considered that fact. It was morning, a time when most of his kind were already tucked into their beds, especially after a night of excruciating torture and bloodletting. Strangely, he felt invigorated. Must be the ring.

“I’ll just go home, for now,” Cordelia blinked sleepily. “I’ll catch a cab. Don’t wanna wait for the bus.”

“No!” Angel didn’t want her leaving when Spike was still roaming about town. “You can borrow my bed.”

Cordelia sent him a frown. “Aren’t you planning on sleeping today?”

“Maybe later,” he told her with a dismissive wave. “I can’t sleep with this mess all over the place.”

Pfft! Vampires! Obsessive, possessive— compulsive. That was the one she figured was pure Angel. He’d pick up a speck of dust from the carpet if he crossed its path. “Good luck with that. I’m staying. I’m borrowing your bathroom and stealing your clothes. Got a problem with that?”

“Nope.”

“Okay.”

Wavering on her feet as she moved toward the stairs, Cordelia paused, turning back to face Angel who was watching her progress. She needed to say something. He found that he could not let her go without telling her that their kiss was a one-time deal. It couldn’t happen ever again.

Time to repaint that imaginary line in front of the desk, he told himself. Boss— secretary. Vampire— human. Got it? Got it.

“Cordy—”

“Angel—”

They spoke simultaneously.

With a sigh, Angel wondered what she planned to say. Was she asking him to come to bed? No— no, don’t ask that, Cordy. Not now. I wouldn’t say no.

Out of politeness, despite his fear of what she would say, Angel prompted, “You should go first. I’ll wait.”

Now nervous that the vampire wanted to tell her something, Cordelia wasn’t certain that she wanted to say anything. “No, you go first.”

“You should go first.” Angel shook his head. He wanted whatever she had to say out in the open. Then he would deal.

Hands on her hips, Cordy countered, “No— you.”

“No.” Angel sounded firm. “You.”

“You!” Stubborn vamp!

Both took a deep breath, although for Angel it was an unnecessary one. To hell with it all, he let out a growl of frustration deciding to say it, “I can’t kiss you again.”

While at the same moment, Cordelia shouted, “Don’t you kiss me again!”

“What?!” They both looked rattled.

After a silent standoff, Angel won the staring contest. “Do you mean that?”

“Y-yes, Angel,” the blush crept up her neck as Cordelia sensed that wasn’t one hundred percent truthful.

“Good,” his voice hardened just a fraction. “What happened was just a natural reaction to the situation. We got carried away.”

Cordy let out a shaky sigh. “Yeah.”

“Yeah,” he parroted the word.

“I-I shouldn’t have—,” Cordelia began only to be cut off as Angel refused to let her feel bad about any part of that kiss.

“I’m your boss, Cordelia,” Angel thought it was as good as any excuse. “I hope that I am also your friend. We just have to put it in the past. Forget the kiss. It happened. It’s over.”

Angel hoped that his little speech convinced her because he certainly wasn’t convincing himself. Put it in the past? Forget it? He hadn’t forgotten a second of time spent with her and doubted he would do it now.

“That sounds like a plan,” Cordy nodded in agreement.

Forget that kiss? Pfft! Who was he kidding?

Having arrived at the threshold to Angel’s room, Cordelia found herself staring at the big wrought-iron bed. It was huge. Had to be— she considered that he was a tall hulking guy. She thought of ‘A Walk in the Clouds” when Mrs. Aragon slyly comments that her daughter Victoria and her new husband, Keanu's character, need lots of room in their bed— to maneuver. Blushing at the image that created, Cordy tried to put it out of her head.

The bed was untouched, still made up with its perfect creases. Apparently Spike had not thought to check under the pillows for the ring’s hiding place. Walking over to the high-boy dresser standing up against the wall, Cordelia opened the top drawer searching for something to sleep in.

Boxers. Black, Grey and White. Typical!

Taking one, Cordy tucked it into the crook of her arm and opened drawer number two. Just socks. Same boring colors. Looked like someone had been shifting things around in the next drawer. Angel would never leave this stuff untidy, so it had to be Spike looking for the ring. Cotton tops, shorts and sweat pants were now in a garbled heap. Cordy did not want to get blamed for this one, but wasn’t going to refold any of it now.

Taking out a long sleeveless shirt, Cordy slung it over the boxers. After closing the drawer, she padded into the bathroom on bare feet to wash up before crawling into bed. Geez, she felt like sleeping for a week.

An hour passed before Angel crept downstairs. He wasn’t tired, but he still had seawater all over his skin, hair and ruined clothes. Peeking into his bedroom, he saw that Cordelia was fast asleep in the center of his bed. The sight instantly had him mesmerized. She was so beautiful in her sleep, like always, but this gave him an opportunity to watch unseen.

The rise and fall of her chest was slow and deep, her heart rate steady and strong. Angel’s close scrutiny caught the rapid eye movement that indicated she was already dreaming. Something good, he hoped. With a tender smile, he slowly backed away from the bed.

Pleasant dreams, baby.

Angel stripped off his clothes right there in the bedroom, tossing them into the hamper as he walked naked into the bathroom. Quietly shutting the door, he moved over to the tub deciding to take a long hot, soak.

Water— Cordelia dreamt as the distant sound invaded her subconscious.

Steamy water and mounds of bubbles clouded her dreams. Squeezing a large sponge, she sluiced soapy water over the vampire in the tub. Strangely, Cordy seemed to be wearing what looked like harem, genie or princess attire and she made every effort not to get it wet. Angel was sitting back in the tub, lounging comfortably with his arms on the gilded molding around the edge. His shoulders and chest were exposed to her hungry view, but the bubbles crept up covering what lay beneath the water.

Dratted bubbles!

“Join me,” Angel held out a hand. “I want you naked, wet and in my arms.”

How was a girl supposed to respond to that? Well— Duh! Cordy rose to her bare feet and removed the sheer outer covering of her pantalets. Then the fuchsia bikini top followed, leaving her rounded breasts bare to his gaze. The air felt cool against her nipples, but she knew that her inner heat would be matched by the water. Finally, with a tug of her hands, she let her matching panties fall to the floor at her ankles.

“Take your time,” Angel suggested as she started to step into the tub. “Let me look my fill.”

That was fair. After all, she got to look her fill and roam her hands across his smooth skin as she prepared him for the bath by undressing him. Taking up the sponge again, Cordelia bent forward sensing the vampire’s attention sweep to the movement of her breasts. Dipping it into the water, she stirred it gathering up foamy bubbles. Tilting her head, she tossed away the clip from her hair, allowing it to cascade down her back in a river of chestnut silk. Then squeezing the sponge against the flush of her throat, Cordelia released a long sigh of pleasure as the hot water ran down her neck, between her breasts, into her navel and across the soft curve of her abdomen before soaking into the curling forest nestled between her thighs.

“That’s long enough.” Angel’s hand curled around her calf, moving upward to the back of her thigh as he leaned forward. His large hand, wet from the bath moved across her skin never breaking contact as she lowered herself into the water.

Cordy was grateful for the rubbery mat beneath her knees as she leaned forward, sighing into his kiss. Mmm! He really, really knew how to kiss. His roaming hands kept sluicing water over the parts of her not covered in bubbles. One followed the long curve of her back from shoulder blade to the rounded handful of her buttocks. Once there, he softly squeezed the flesh before his fingers teasingly dipped between her thighs.

“Touch me,” she whispered between the kisses. Cordy ached inside, needing his talented fingers there offering her pleasure.

Soon, the sensations were too much. She met her vampire’s lusty gaze, moving off of her hands and knees to shift herself across his thighs. Pressing closer to the hard shaft hidden beneath the bubbles, she knew its breadth and length would fill her to the core. First, she felt his hands against her side brushing the curves of her breasts as he pulled her to his chest pressing their hot naked flesh together.

Cordy’s fingers moved along the bulge of his biceps, over his shoulders and up to his face. He was a beautiful, beautiful man and he was all hers. Kissing his eyes closed, she whispered words of love across his cheeks until reaching his smiling mouth. Then Cordy showed him that he wasn’t the only one who knew how to kiss.

Taking hold of her hips, Angel lifted her up positioning her directly over his erect flesh. Cordelia stroked her hand down his sculpted chest to take hold of his hardened arousal fitting them together like the final pieces of a puzzle. Interconnected, body and soul

As she sunk slowly down, taking all of him, both Angel and Cordelia moaned in mutual pleasure. Their mouths meshed again, first softly and then with increasing passion. He cupped her breasts, teasing the nipples with the barest of touches and letting his thumbs travel over the circular curve of her areolas. With each downward twist of her hips, Angel thrust upward.

Calling out his name, Cordelia started to feel overwhelmed by sensation. Hugging her arms around the wet curve of his shoulders, she held on tight. “Angel. Angel!”

Waves of the warm bathwater were sloshing over the edge of the tub, hitting the floor with a splash of melting bubbles. “That’s it, baby,” he whispered into her ear. “You’re almost there. Almost there.”

The love in his voice combined with the rhythm of his body inside her. Moving just enough to reach his mouth again, Cordelia plundered it with the urgency of her need. Angel reached up to her head, his wet fingers holding her steady as he took over the kiss leading her into the final spiral of sensations that edged her ever closer to orgasm.

Their lips were still clinging as the kiss parted with a sharp sting against her plush bottom lip. Cordelia’s eyes opened followed closely by a hiss of pain. The deep-set eyes gazing back at her were dark amber rimmed by a ridged vampiric brow. His hands gripped her head tighter, turning it to expose her throat to his fangs.

Oh— as her orgasm crashed over her, the vampire bit deeply into her throat sucking the precious red liquid of her blood. There was no end to it- he was going to suck her dry. Clutching at his shoulders and scratching at his face as her dream turned into nightmare, Cordelia realized that she had not been in the hot steamy bath with Angel, but the soulless demon who listed her as his number one candidate to become a vampire.

“Angelus!”

Cordelia cried out in her sleep sitting up starkly in the bed. Breathing in hard pants, she clutched at her throat feeling around for open wounds. Finding none, it came to her that she had been dreaming of Angel— until the twisted darkness had called up his evil half.

Grabbing for one of the pillows, she hugged it close and rocked herself back and forth trying to erase the memory of the nightmare. She didn’t blame Angel. This was Spike’s fault with his talk about vampire bites and being marked as a sign of ownership. Bleach Brain was gonna get staked the next time she saw him— even if he did help rescue Angel after arranging for his physical and metal torture at Marcus’ hands.

“Cordy? Did you call me?” Angel emerged soaking wet with a towel low slung around his hips. He looked concerned and appeared to have gotten straight out of the tub.

With a hitch in her voice, Cordelia told him, “No, Angel. I just had a bad dream.”

Instantly, he was at her side. Sitting on the bed, Angel leaned his mostly naked body toward Cordelia as he tilted her chin back in his direction. She was avoiding looking in his eyes. “What is it, baby? What’s wrong?”

The tone of his voice echoed the Angel of her dreams. Soft and intimate. There was that word again— baby. It was different than the way Spike used pet names for everyone. He did with irreverence what sounded like endearment on Angel’s lips.

Cordelia’s trembling hand— completely of its own accord— reached out for the solid wall of Angel’s chest. Wet, cool, firm flesh made her fingers tingle in want. Curling them so the nails were pointed at him, she let them trail ever slowly down from his collar bone, across one thick pectoral muscle and over the small male nipple before dropping her hand closer to the edge of the towel.

“Do you know what you’re doing?” There was a dangerous tone creeping into his voice. “I’m not invulnerable to your touch, Cordelia.”

The towel was tenting under her gaze as it darted to his lap. “I guess not. Know what I’m doing, I mean.”

“Oh.” Angel scooted closer to the edge of the bed.

When she looked at him it was with a combination of longing and fear. “Go away, Angel. Go back to your bath. I’ll be fine here on my own.”

Standing and holding onto his towel with a two-handed grip, Angel let his concern for her slip away. It was only then that he realized Cordelia’s scent was cloaked with arousal. A dark look came into his eyes as he fought against the urge to walk back to the bed to take what he knew they both wanted.
 

And what say you now of true love’s kiss?

Part 8

 What say you now of true love’s kiss when the thread-thin line between fantasy and reality is stripped away? While the spell shrouding the memory of our Seer-to-Be remains intact, the hand of chaos has delivered proof of her former existence, spreading both awareness and doubt. We, the Oracles to the Powers that Be, watch and wait. There are dangers here untold, lower beings— dangers of the heart and mind leading to other risks for the world at large. The seeds of doubt may grow like a small sapling in the crack of a boulder— splitting it through the heart. For if our Seer-to-Be does not reach her prime to claim her rightful place in the world— the world may be no more. For she will be the link to our Champion and thus the Powers that Be seek restitution by calling their current Seer into action.
 

Well, get to it. Doyle encouraged himself to move. They’re in there. Just open the office door and walk inside.

Doyle hesitated, partly because he didn’t want to face them with the afterglow still shining from their eyes. And partly because he knew that the office would be in one helluva mess after Spike’s demolition mode during his search for the Ring of Amarra last night.

He didn’t know which idea he found more appalling.

Stepping inside, Doyle froze with his hand still on the doorknob. Except for the usually untidy area of Cordelia’s desk, the place was clean. It would have taken hours to get it put back together this way.

How could that be if Angel and Cordelia had spent the last *eight* hours having wild sex all over the office and down in the vampire’s apartment? It only made sense that was what they were doing. Doyle made certain to take at least that long to return the Pig’s van and pick up Angel’s convertible from the Orbit Room.

Somewhere in between, he had gone down to the pub to drown himself in a few pints of Guinness and a couple shots of whiskey. Now it looked like it was all for naught. Either Cordy and Angel had no sex at all or the myth about vampire stamina was just that— a myth.

Doyle decided he would chance going down to the apartment. As he passed by Cordelia’s desk, the aura that signaled a coming vision was accompanied by a sharp pain in his head. Pressing the heel of his hand to his forehead, Doyle opened his mind to the images. It was then that he realized this was not a vision of pending danger requiring Angel’s skills. This message came for Doyle himself.

Both hands fell to the flat desktop as the Irish seer steadied himself. What the hell kind of vision was that? The images revealed an action he would take, supposedly only seconds from now. A vital action. One that must be taken or there would be hell to pay, but one coming with no other instructions except picking up the object hidden beneath Cordelia’s desk.

As he reached down, feeling under the desk, Doyle remembered that he had accidentally collapsed against it last night. Spike had hit him, knocking him out cold with a single punch. That vampire was damn strong! He’d been a little woozy when getting back on his feet. Whatever this was under the desk, Doyle had lost it himself.

Maybe the Powers that Be were now in the Lost and Found business.

Finally, Doyle’s hand connected with a flat object. He pulled it out to see that it was a picture frame. Funny, but he did not remember Cordy having any pictures on her desk. Flipping it over, Doyle took a look, nearly dropping it again as he realized who was in the picture together. Needing to sit down, he wandered over to the couch and flopped onto it.

It hadn’t occurred to Doyle that vampires could be photographed. He’d never given it a thought. No reason too. There was just something about the reflectant light of mirrors that defied vampires— something mystical.

There was actually more than one image here. Angel and Cordelia were together in a formal portrait while tucked into the right-hand corner of the frame was a series of four small color images taken from a mall photo-booth.

Doyle was struck by the fact that this was indeed significant. Angel had gone into a mall! The vampire just wasn’t the type to go shopping and have pictures taken in photo-booths. At least- not the Angel he had come to know over the past few weeks. He’d figured that vampires did the same as the majority of the demon population when buying clothes— special ordering them from a catalog or on the computer.

Well, Angel’s shopping habits were not his concern. These pictures spoke in volumes of things Doyle figured his friend did not want him to know. Angel and Cordy smiling and happy— together. Nice, but Cordelia had already told him about the fact that she barely spent any time with the vamp while in Sunnydale. Certainly not enough to merit paying for a photographer.

Who knew! Maybe it was just a memento of some time when he’d saved her life and she wanted to preserve the memory. Whatever the occasion, they looked perfectly carefree. She was curled up on the floor, hugging his knee and leaning in close while he was bent over from his position on the chair, his dark head tilted down toward hers. The look of joy and laughter on their faces just bowled Doyle away.

To think that was the less surprising of the photographs!

In the other, squeezed tightly into the booth with a blue background behind them were Angel, Cordelia and a blonde that he knew from previous visions was none other than Buffy Summers, the Vampire Slayer. Doyle had heard quite a bit about the girl from Cordy who loved to gossip. Angel on the other hand refused to talk about his past in Sunnydale any more than was absolutely necessary. Even then it was like trying to get blood from a turnip.

The first picture, Doyle noted, looked disorganized as though the trio was still trying to figure out where all the knees and elbows were supposed to fit. Angel looked confused. Cordelia had her hand in his hair trying to smooth it down while the Slayer was pointing forward trying to get him to look in the right direction.

What was Angel doing in a mall photo-booth with two teenagers? A lump formed in Doyle’s throat at the next image. Both girls were kissing the vampire’s grinning cheeks. That seemed a bit overly-friendly on Cordelia’s part considering that Angel’s girlfriend was present.

Swallowing down the lump of apprehension, Doyle glanced down to the third picture. Buffy Summers was posed perfectly on the vampire’s knee, facing the camera with a bright smile. Her eyes were wide, open and bright with amusement— even her teeth seemed to be glinting with fun. Next to her, Angel’s attention had wandered away from the camera as had Cordelia’s.

Each wore hungry, lustful expressions, their eyes focused entirely on the other.

It was the fourth and final picture that had Doyle’s head spinning. Angel and Cordy were kissing the hell out of each other. You might expect to see the jealous girlfriend pulling out Cordelia’s hair or staking the vampire for daring to kiss her. No, that wasn’t what the camera caught.

Instead, the tiny blonde was leaning into Angel’s chest with her eyes half shut and a curling smile of pleasure on her face. Cordelia’s left hand was cupping the blonde’s cheek, her thumb brushing the corner of the girl’s mouth. The intimacy between the trio was shockingly obvious.

These pictures had to be taken in the Twilight Zone! There was no way that Doyle could conceive them happening here— unless Cordelia was lying to him about her relationship with Angel. But no, Angel had been genuinely surprised after spotting her at the party the vampire had gone to on his first mission for the Powers that Be. He mentioned that he had run into an old friend, but hadn’t given any details at the time. Not until he rescued Cordy the next night at the mansion home of vampire Russell Winters. Even then it had been the old friend spiel.

Old friend, my Irish ass!

Now Doyle wouldn’t expect Cordelia to give this story the silent treatment. No, she’d have told him something. Maybe not all the details like— hopping into bed with Angel and his blond Slayer girlfriend. That was not the Cordelia he recognized any more than Angel was the vampire shopping expert. Doyle didn’t know Buffy personally, but it did look like whatever this was they were all three in it together.

Confused, he didn’t know what to do next. Should he march up to Angel and Cordy and demand to know the truth? What was it that the Powers wanted him to do about this? It was their idea to give him the blasted vision. The only good thing about his current state of shock was that it dulled his migraine.

Blast it all! The idea that his two friends had come back from their moment on the beach and given into some cosmic certainty that they were supposed to be together had actually been a painful, but acceptable fact. Seeing the evidence that they had long-since taken care of the awkwardness of that first time in bed together made Doyle not only confused by their silence, but mad about it.

Maybe Cordelia was a better secret-keeper than he imagined, because it was strange that she acted the way that she did around Angel. The vampire actually tried hard to keep his distance. Then again, there were times that the two of them went into touchy-feely mode when Doyle figured they thought no one was looking. He was the only one around to look and he still hadn’t caught them doing much more than staring at each other.

Except the other day when Cordy lost the bet and had to wear the outfit of Doyle’s choice into the office. Angel hadn’t been joking with his little act of dominion over her. Cordy had laughed when the vampire gave her permission to play, to do what she wanted. Now Doyle got the feeling that it was neither a jest nor out of place behavior. The vampire was *really* giving her permission.

Funny, but Cordelia hadn’t taken it that way. In fact, Cordy seemed to be clueless about the vibes that Angel gave off when she walked into a room. Maybe it was just because she was used to men sending her signals.

But to have this— thing in their past and never breathe a word of it? Even a hint? That was unnatural. Doyle knew that Cordelia Chase had been popular in high school. She had shared that and more. Queen C, they’d called her. The May Queen. Head cheerleader and all around bitch. Doyle hadn’t seen much of the latter.

Cordelia had actually shared a lot with him. What more was there to do except talk to each other during the day? Their vampire boss was usually asleep until early afternoon. Most of their clients— the few they had so far— came and went quickly. The rest were garnered from Doyle’s visions and that meant more work for Angel.

Despite Cordy being an ex-cheerleader and being exposed to the sexual reputation that sometimes surrounded them, he got the impression of innocence. Just in the way she interacted with him— and Angel for that matter. She was fun, flirtatious and could charm any man she wanted— but Doyle knew her to be far from the type of girl who would just fall into bed with an established couple. Not unless there was some cosmic reason for it all.

Angel had a helluva lot to answer for, Doyle decided as he got up off the couch. Opening his jacket, he shoved the small frame into an inner pocket. There would be questions, he decided. Lots of questions asked and explanations given. Only then would he decide if he had to stake the bastard.

But why the vision? Why would the Powers that Be send a vision likely resulting in their Seer dusting their precious Champion? Not likely. There had to more to this than what he found in his admittedly overactive imagination. Wait— if the Powers were involved in this maybe there *was* a cosmic reason. Maybe there was something else going on here.

Pacing now, Doyle kept racking his brain trying to figure out the puzzle given him by the higher beings upstairs. What could have happened between Sunnydale and L.A.? It was almost as if they didn’t remember.

Doyle stopped in the middle of the room. Didn’t know? What was it that Spike had been saying to Cordelia back at the garage? He hadn’t really been following the conversation. Both the blond vampire and Cordelia seemed confused. Something about barbeque forks and vampire bites.

Spike claimed Cordelia had been bitten by a vampire and that she removed the scar. Could that be it? Who had bitten her?

Clasping a hand to his chest where the rectangular frame was tucked away in his jacket, Doyle suddenly had a bad feeling. They looked wonderful together in that professional photo— the picture of perfect happiness.

But Angel was allergic to perfect happiness— lost his soul, all because of the Slayer and their one night of passion. The Powers had shown him that and the night he got it back. Afterward, the vision they had given him was something of a whirlwind explanation of Angel’s arrival in L.A. after the big breakup with Buffy. They never hinted at anything going on with Cordelia or that Angel would meet up with her again on that first mission.

Was that a setup?

Doyle was feeling a little used in addition to being a melting pot of confusion, anger and jealousy. Now it looked like Angel and Cordy were picking up where they had left off in Sunnydale. All kissy-faced and swallowed up by happiness.

That had to be it! Wait— Doyle knew a moment of panic as he realized what the pending danger must be and why Angel couldn’t handle it.

Perfect happiness.

Eight hours alone with Cordelia— making love to her? What else would the vampire be feeling right now?

Oh God! Angelus! He’s got Cordelia!

Racing down the steps to Angel’s apartment, Doyle feared what he was going to see. Would he find Cordelia’s drained body, her skin pale and bluish, still lying on Angel’s bed? No! God, no! Not that. Please don’t let her be dead.

Reaching the bottom, Doyle raced directly into the bedroom after flinging open the door. The bed linen was crumpled and the pillows strewn across the huge bed, but there was no sign of them. Then, he noticed that there were noises coming from the bathroom. Oh no. Angelus had her in there! He was— well, frankly, Doyle didn’t want to know why. Saving Cordy was his only concern. Grabbing the door handle, he turned it, wondering how he was going to stop Angelus if Spike’s single punch had knocked him unconscious.

“Aaaaaaahh!” Screaming at the sudden opening of the door, Cordelia was standing there naked. It took Doyle a moment to close his mouth and to realize that she was alone in the bathroom, obviously about to step into the shower.

Grabbing a towel, Cordy looked at him with a stunned expression. “Doyle you idiot! Get out!”

Then Angel came running into the room, completely dressed and still holding a book in one hand. Looked like he had been on the other side of the apartment, reading again. He slowed to a halt as he saw Doyle standing in front of the open doorway and Cordelia clutching a small towel across her front.

Pushing Doyle out of the room with one hand, Cordelia then slammed the bathroom door.

“A-Angel?” Just checking. Didn’t hurt to ask.

“I hope that you are as drunk as you smell, Doyle,” the vampire approached. “Otherwise, you better have a good explanation for this.”

Floundering, Doyle decided he probably was a little drunk. “I-I’m skunked, Angel. Plus, I haven’t had any sleep in almost two days. You won’t believe what I have for you.”

Angel tapped the book on the palm of his hand. “Waiting.”

Things started to add up in ways that were completely opposite to his conclusions. Angel was still Angel, so— not so happy? The office above and the apartment here below were now spotless, suggesting that someone had been cleaning for hours. There was no blood on the bed linen meaning no biting, not to mention the fact that Cordelia’s neck was still intact.

Not that Doyle had looked at her neck for very long.

This was not good, he decided. He was drunk— maybe he hadn’t felt it a few minutes ago, but that sounded just fine as far as excuses went. Maybe there was an explanation for the pictures, but it could wait until he could think clearly. Right now, he had images of Cordelia’s perfect body dancing in his head and an irritated vampire standing in front of him.

“Still waiting, Doyle,” Angel prompted.

“Oh. Yeah,” Doyle walked up to him. Taking the vampire’s hand, he turned it palm up before reaching down into his pocket. “I think I have something of yours.”

Doyle put the keys to Angel’s convertible in his hand.

“Look— Angel, would you apologize to Cordelia for me?” Doyle inched toward the door. “I need to sleep off this drunk.”

Yeah. Sleep sounded good. Maybe this would all make sense after he slept for about week. Doyle clutched at the frame in his jacket pocket, silently condemning himself for being a big chicken for not asking Angel about it when he had the chance.

Besides, Doyle had a secret or two of his own. Kept his dark past hidden from Angel who had already learned a thing or two. And he had not yet told Cordelia that he was half-demon. Perhaps some secrets were meant to come out on their own.

Once he had this all figured out, Doyle assured himself that he would confront them both. Not today. Not tomorrow. Maybe not next week. He would wait and watch and try to figure this out. Until then, Doyle figured he had all the time in the world.

Part 9

 “Doyle is a dead man,” Cordelia promised Angel. “First he makes me dress up in that black leather slut-wear—”

Angel pointed out, “You *did* lose your bet.”

“— And then he has the nerve to get drunk and burst into the bathroom while I’m naked.”

“I can think of worse things.”

“What?!”

Angel’s mouth curled upward. “I meant— it was Doyle. That has to be better than Spike seeing you naked.”

“Eew!” Cordy scrunched up her nose. “You’re right. Like I’d ever let that Bleach Brain near me.”

The vampire thought of a time that Spike had been closer to Cordelia that was healthy for him. Despite that he was soulless at the time, Angel remembered doling out punishment to the blond vampire—and Drusilla, who had been equally guilty— for daring to touch his mate without permission. Though he was certain of it at the time, it was nice to hear it from her lips that Spike did nothing for her.

Berating himself for letting his thoughts slip back to Sunnydale, Angel sometimes wished that Willow had also cast her memory-erasing spell on him too. Then, like Cordy, he would remain ignorant of what they once shared. It had to be this way. One of them had to be cognizant of the facts. The connections binding their bodies and souls remained in place, therefore creating potential for dangers that Angel could not ignore.

Just as he could not ignore her beauty, her smile or her innate goodness— Angel loved her and that was a feeling he cherished. The irony was that it took a Vampire Slayer to teach him how to love— and he loved Buffy still. Holding that love in one chamber of his undead heart. It would not let go of him.

Angel did not regret his decision to leave Buffy behind in Sunnydale. As the guardian of the Hellmouth, she could not desert her post— though she had at one time just after she sent him to hell. Such love and trust and innocence— until the curse kicked in and he lost his soul. Angelus—

Suddenly, Cordelia was standing next to him having moved from her desk, snapping her fingers in front of Angel’s face. “Pay attention, Angel.”

Realizing that he had drifted off into his thoughts in the middle of their conversation about Doyle and Spike, Angel apologized. “Sorry.”

“Geez, what were you thinking about?” Cordelia queried. Then she worried that Angel had broken their deal about keeping things on a platonic level. “Not me naked?”

As far as Cordy was concerned, even thinking about nakedness was a breach of protocol.

“Actually, I-I was thinking about Buffy,” he answered honestly.

“Oh.” Cordelia tried to sound like that answer hadn’t cut her to the core. Buffy! Talk about a stake through the heart. Even from Sunnydale, Buffy Summers could dish it out.

Then remembering that she had placed Angel off-limits to herself, Cordelia supposed that meant he could still belong to Buffy. Even if the big breakup supposedly kept them apart. Something else occurred to her that brought a thoughtful frown to her face.

“Angel?” She wondered if this was why he had been thinking about the other girl. “Do you suppose the Ring of Amarra also protects your soul?”

He shrugged a non-answer.

“If— if it does, then maybe you and Buffy could—”

Seeing where she was going with this, Angel cut her off, “No.”

“No?”

“I destroyed the ring last night, Cordy,” Angel told her point-blank. “If it gets into the wrong hands—”

“What?! You destroyed something that makes you invulnerable? That lets you walk in sunlight?” Cordelia grabbed onto his arms. “Are you insane?”

The non-committal shrug came again.

“Yes!” Cordy answered for him thinking of all the dangers he put himself in for the PTB. All the times he might be killed in some future apocalyptic battle. “You dumbass!”

Unable to contain her emotions, Cordelia turned and walked out of the office. As it was streaming daylight outside, Angel was unable to follow— hah! Maybe that taught him a lesson. She couldn’t believe he would give away a chance to be with Buffy again. Angel was sometimes impulsive that way— acting without fully planning it out.

Obsessive, possessive, compulsive— and impulsive. Yeah, that was him alright. Angel got lucky most times, his skills as a fighter overcoming the odds set against him. What would happen when Lady Luck, as Doyle called it, turned a blind eye? Having a ring that makes you invulnerable might, say— give a vamp a distinct advantage.

Cordelia eventually arrived at her apartment, still hopping mad. She turned on the light switch, glancing up at its doubtful flickering. Finally, it stayed on.

“Stupid vampire,” she muttered. “Doesn’t think about himself or his friends. Not allowed to be a little selfish! Can’t chance some other evil vamp trying to get it— as if they could get past Angel.”

Removing a water glass from her cabinet, Cordelia turned on the cold water faucet and saw dingy brown water pour into the sink. It rebounded off the spoon in one of the unwashed dishes to splatter across her white shirt.

“Speaking of rotten luck,” Cordelia held the grossly stained shirt away from her body.

Glowering at the sight of the messy living room, Cordelia had to admit that the apartment really sucked. Her rent had already gone up once and that was just after the first six months. And now, having lost the bet to Doyle, she couldn’t afford to have it repainted. Not that she was going to pay him— just use him as slave labor.

Plopping down on the couch, Cordelia picked up the television remote that was on the cushion beside her. As the screen brightened, it lit up three cockroaches crawling along the flat surface.

“Ugh! Not again!”

Picking up the phone, she called the apartment manager. He was supposed to have the exterminator in today, but obviously that had not happened. The guy— who was a pig, by the way— stated that the entire apartment had been sprayed earlier that morning.

Figuring he was trying to put one over on her, Cordelia sat up. “I think I could tell if—”

Her foot connected with something on the floor— another cockroach. Looking grossed out that she had stepped on it, Cordelia glanced down only to scream in horror as she saw the floor littered by dead bugs.

Slamming down the phone, she reached for her address book. Going back to Angel’s place and begging for help after their argument was not happening. Doyle had once offered to help her out. Flipping through the book, she came to his name and number. After several attempts, there was no answer. Darn that Irishman! He was probably at a bar somewhere. Well, she wasn’t going to stay here a minute longer than necessary. If that meant eating crow with Angel— she’d just have to bite down hard and get it done.

Angel was in the shower standing under the spray, letting the water wet his hair. He felt some of the tension drain out of his shoulders. Telling Cordelia that he had been thinking about Buffy had not been the smartest move he ever made. Despite her memory loss, she possessed the same binding link to him as he did to her. On that subconscious level, he knew she reacted to him mate to mate— with just a tiny hint of jealousy in her eyes.

When she suggested that the power of the Ring of Amarra might bind his soul and protect it from loss if he and Buffy ever got horizontal again, Angel felt bereft. Though he could not deny himself the memory of the pleasure that he and Buffy shared, it was all because of Cordelia. She was his soulmate and the fact that the Ring of Amarra might protect him was irrelevant. For a while he had considered Buffy to be the mate of his heart— while Cordelia was his body and soul.

But Cordy invaded every nook and cranny of him. It was her right and until his decision to force her into a normal life, it was also his pleasure.

Now she was back in his life through some incredible whim of fate. Without her memories and without the knowledge that he loved her— that he wanted her beyond anything she could imagine. Back on that beach, Angel had given her a taste of what he wanted and she had responded with all the passion she possessed.

Angel rubbed the soap along his chest and down across his stomach. He closed his eyes at the memory of that kiss. It was all he was likely to get, but just the thought of her made him hard. His fingers moved again—

Then the sound of banging on his apartment door startled him out of the haze he had fallen into under the hot spray of the shower. It had to be Doyle, Angel figured. Cordy had been pissed at him over the ring’s destruction. Maybe Doyle would just get the hint and leave.

But the pounding continued. Turning off the shower, he threw a towel around his waist and trudged toward the door.

“Doyle! What the hell do you—,” Angel’s eyes widened at the sight of Cordelia looking less than her usual perky self.

Barely sparing a glance at his naked flesh, Cordy let out a deep breath. “Thank God! You took long enough to answer the door. I can’t believe that you would just let me stand out in the hallway like that.”

Angel held up a hand, indicating his state of undress. “I was in the shower.”

“So I see, Mr. Clean,” she rolled her eyes. “Take these bags. I have another one in the hall.”

“What happened?” Angel was trying to balance the bags and his slipping towel.

Cordy dragged the other bag inside. “My apartment. It’s like Disney World for bugs! They’re having a field day in my living room. It’s like living in the barrio— or the projects. I’m like the girl from the projects!”

Nearly dropping one of the bags, Angel demanded, “Why didn’t you tell me you were living like that? What happened to the condo on the beach?”

“Denial, Angel. It is a condo on the beach— in my dreams, maybe. In reality, it is a crappy hole in the wall where the plumbing is broken, the light don’t work and I have bugs. An army of big, huge, gigantic, Jolly Green Giant-sized cockroaches.”

Angel was revolted at the description. No wonder she had not had them over to her place. “Does Doyle know?”

“Yeah, but his apartment is not much better,” Cordelia said. “I tried to call him. I have actually sunk that low. Despite the bet and him seeing me naked.”

Suddenly, Angel’s towel slipped to the floor causing Cordelia to hold her hand over her mouth. The look on his face was hilarious and he was standing there strategically holding her suitcase in front of him. “Need some help with that bag?”

The glint in her eyes nearly got him. Angel almost dropped one suitcase to the floor. “Got it.”

Oh, my! Cordelia watched with interest as Angel maneuvered himself at an angle toward the bedroom door. Reaching it, the vampire found that the two bags in his arms were at an awkward angle. He would have to lift them— oh, to hell with it. Angel turned his back to her and quickly stepped into the bedroom giving Cordelia a full view of his muscular back, buttocks and legs.

What was it about a wet naked vampire that made Cordelia want to curl herself around that tall, solid frame? Moving her hand from her mouth, her fingers slowly trailed off pressing a little longer than necessary over her lips. She slipped her index finger into her mouth, nibbling on its tip for an instant with her eyes still on the open bedroom door.

The scenery at Angel’s apartment certainly was an improvement over her place. Giggling softly, she set those thoughts aside. Then Cordelia called out to him while hovering near the door. “The apartment manager is clearing out the bug patrol. Or so he says. I’ll check back with him tomorrow.”

“The hell you will,” Angel emerged wearing boxers under a short, open bathrobe. “If the lease isn’t up, we’ll break it.”

“Huh?”

Angel picked up the other bag from its place at her feet. “I’m not having my— secretary living in a dump like that. You’re staying with me.”

A secret thrill zipped along Cordelia’s spine whenever he got that protective he-man tone to his voice. At the same time, she was too independent to allow it. “Angel, I can’t do that to you. Trust me, you have no idea what sharing a bathtub with me will be like.”

“Bathtub?” Angel wondered if he’d misheard that.

With a gasp, Cordy cursed at her Freudian Slip, correcting herself. “Room! Bathroom! I m-meant bathroom.”

Sharing a bathroom was one of the things Angel missed the most, especially the tub. “I hear you, Cordy. We’ll try to come up with a schedule.”

“Then you won’t mind me being in your bed again?”

Was she saying these things just to make him crazy with lust? Angel’s head filled with images of Cordelia precisely in that position— in his bed. The waves of her chestnut hair falling over his skin, teasing him with her hands and mouth, tasting his flesh. Silk scarves tied loosely about her wrists as her hands gripped the wrought-iron railing as he pleasured her until her shattered cries filled his ears.

“My bed is yours.”

Looking deeper into his gaze, Cordy thought his brown eyes flashed with an amber hue. Blinking, she smiled her thanks. Angel could have argued that he was taller and therefore needed the bed rather than taking the couch. She was glad that he didn’t and wondered whether it would be dreams or nightmares she would find there tonight.

“Were you finished with your shower?”

No, actually. Angel had other things planned for that shower until Cordelia showed up. With a shrug, he answered, “Done for now.”

“Then do you mind if I—,” Cordy pointed in that direction.

She took the slight nod of his head as an affirmative answer. Upon turning to go, Angel caught her wrist to reel her in a little closer. “Don’t ask me, Cordy. You don’t need to play houseguest. If I had known about your apartment, you would have been here a lot sooner.”

“Angel, you’re so good,” she touched her hand to his damp chest, just over his heart. “Just to warn you, it won’t be easy. I know you like to brood quietly in the dark. I don’t.”

“The brooding is less when you’re around.”

Grinning, Cordelia followed as Angel led her into the bedroom where he put the last of her three suitcases on the floor. “You packed this for a two-day stay?”

“A girl has to be prepared,” she pointed out. “A lot can happen in two days.”

That was a loaded statement, Angel decided. “Just remember what I said, Cordelia. While you’re here, this is your home, too. If you see something you want— just take it.”

If only it was that simple. Looking at Angel, she knew exactly what she would take if she could. If things had been different. For now, she would take the only thing she could get,
“Okay, Angel. Close the door on your way out. I’m taking a shower.”

Doyle emerged from the elevator about thirty minutes later. He had finally come up with an apology that was the middle ground between groveling and saving face. He’d come here drunk, thought some nasty things about the vampire that were probably all his own sick imagination and then barged in on a drop-dead gorgeous naked Cordelia just as she was getting into the shower.

Cautiously, Doyle called out. “Angel, you around?”

He stepped into the kitchen area to find Cordelia combing her fingers through her wet hair while checking out her reflection in a metal vase. Her terrycloth bathrobe gaped open just a bit to reveal her damp cleavage.

“Hey, Doyle!” She was smiling, so that was probably a good thing.

“Cordy, you’re here.” Doyle wondered if she had ever left.

Then Angel came around the corner in his boxers and the partial covering of a short robe that left his chest and his legs exposed. Both of them were in bathrobes looking shower fresh. Doyle found he couldn’t speak as his mind processed back to his thoughts on sex and perfect happiness.

Letting out a sigh, Cordy asked Doyle, “You ever get that feeling that you just can’t shower enough? Like there’s never enough hot water?”

“What?”

Angel didn’t bother to address Doyle, passing by him and moving straight for Cordelia. Leaning in, he sent her a sharp glance. “You got peanut butter on the bed.”

“Really?” Cordy was the picture of innocence as she met his flashing gaze. “I don’t think so. Then again, I never did find the lid. It may have rolled somewhere.”

“Onto my pillow,” Angel held out his sticky finger as proof pointing it at her face.

Grabbing his wrist, Cordelia sucked the waving digit into her mouth. Her tongue swept around it, licking off every remaining trace of peanut butter. Then she pulled his finger out leaving a loud, wet smacking sound behind it.

“No evidence left,” she shrugged getting up out of the seat. “You can’t prove it now.”

Cordelia’s shoulder nudged the vampire as she strategically retreated into the bedroom. The moment the door closed behind her, Doyle forgot all about his planned apology and drove straight down the path to his own personal insane asylum.

“No, no, no, no, no. Angel man, how could you?” Doyle’s protest caused Angel to realize what his seer had just witness. “This is crazy behavior.”

Holding up his finger, the vampire had to comment, “I think she won that argument.”

“That’s the problem. Cordy always wins,” Doyle told him. “Don’t you get that by now? She’s a lot like you— muddled in the head when it comes to things you shouldn’t have, but take just because you can get it.”

“We’re not talking about peanut butter,” concluded Angel wondering what he was getting at. The guy was practically seething, just this side of anger and Angel had no clue why.

“No, Cordelia!” She was right. The vampire was a dumbass— at least when it came to her. “I was crazy about her, and I was wearing her down, too. But no, the handsome, brooding vampire guy has to sweep in, all sensitive mouth and overhanging forehead.”

Angel rubbed a hand against his forehead, waiting for Doyle to finish.

“How about leaving some scraps for us homely looking fellas who don’t turn evil when they get some?”

There was a predatory look on Angel’s face that made Doyle realize he’d said one thing too much. Like looking at a crouching jungle cat, he sensed Angel was ready to pounce. A subtle shudder of his shoulders brought some stability to the vampire’s stance, but Doyle did not let himself relax.

“Don’t talk about Cordelia with disrespect, Doyle,” he fumed, “and don’t presume too much about me. I don’t know what the Powers that Be revealed to you when you showed up, but it can’t be more than a fraction of my life. Because if it was, you would already know that I would never give her up to another demon.”

“Give her up?” Doyle thought about the pictures in the small frame now sitting at his apartment. If only he had brought it with him, just to show Angel how much he figured out on his own.

“She’s mine!” Angel didn’t care if he sounded possessive. “Cordelia is my mate, Doyle, but has no memory of that fact. If you breathe a word of this to her, I’ll snap your neck.”

There was too much truth in the words to hope the vampire had not meant what he said. Doyle dismissed the threat of death, considering that he wouldn’t be saying anything to Cordy after that image popped into his head. Besides that, Angel and Cordelia were his friends and he wouldn’t press the issue if it was going to get someone hurt— especially him.

“Easy now, man,” Doyle held up his hands in mock surrender. “Just tell me what you can before she comes back. I’ll be silent as the grave.”

Angel actually felt relieved to talk to Doyle. The only one who knew the truth before now was Willow Rosenberg. Though growing in her power as a witch, she was still young and unworldly in her interactions. She could not provide the empathetic ear that came from another male perspective.

“So she knows nothing,” Doyle gasped. “A year of her life smothered by fake memories. Why did you do it?”

“For her own safety. To ensure that I never let her go too far.”

“That’s a load of crap, man!” Doyle tried not to yell. Cordy was only in the next room. He heard the distant sound of a blow dryer and figured they were still safe to talk. “You may have intended to stay away from her when you left Sunnydale, but look at the mess you’ve gotten yourselves into.”

Angel couldn’t deny it.

Throwing up his hands in the air, Doyle continued, “I knew that there was some cosmic connection here. The PTB are making your lives their playground, Angel. You are their Champion and Cordelia is— well, I don’t know what other than your mate. If that means anything to them, I guess they figured to arrange a few visions and throw her back into the mix.”

“Cordelia and I are soulmates. My soul is grounded when we’re together,” Angel told him.

So much for worrying about Angelus! “That’s a relief. I thought I was gonna have to start staking out the place— literally.”

The vampire’s mouth quirked into a brief smile at Doyle’s joke. “Just keep an eye on her. You accuse me of brooding too much. I know that I close myself off to the world, Doyle, but Cordelia *is* my world. I’m only trying to protect her.”

“Then why do you keep letting her back in?” His voice held that last remaining shred of jealousy. “From what you’ve said, Angel, having her so close can be dangerous. That she responds to your demon’s needs. Can you honestly tell me that the safest place for her is in your bed?”

“Not with me in it.” Then Angel revealed, “That’s why I’m going to be sleeping on the sofa for a couple of days.”

“She booted you out of your own bed?” Way to go Cordy! Then Doyle had to ask, “Why is she here? Did she stay after— after I walked in on her?”

“No. She had trouble with some things in her apartment,” Angel told him. “Actually, that gives me an idea. I need you to find her a new place.”

“I’ll do my best.” Doyle knew a few guys who knew some people in the apartment rental business.

“Do it quickly, Doyle,” advised Angel. “Having Cordelia here for a couple of nights will be enough of a challenge. Any longer than that and I’ll never let her leave.”

Just like the vampire did not let her walk away when Cordelia invited herself to join them in starting Angel Investigations. Doyle asked him, “Do you ever wonder if that’s what’s supposed to happen?”

Part 10

 Trust Doyle to screw up something so simple. Finding a gorgeous, furnished and rent-controlled apartment in Los Angeles— anyone could do that if they had the right contacts. No, Doyle had to find one haunted by ghosts, one of which was a violent and murderous poltergeist. That was just the sort of place Angel would have picked out for Cordelia himself— not!

Even the vampire was more than a little miffed, Cordelia noted, when they arrived to find her hanging from the ceiling by her neck. Angel was like this Dark Avenger— a vampire version of a medieval White Knight when he got that protective vibe. Hmm! Angel, the Dark Avenger— she’d have to remember that. Cordy had been rolling a few advertising ideas around in her head hoping to find a way to increase their clientele. But first, she had other priorities, starting with cleaning up this haunted apartment.

“Hey, Dennis!” Cordelia called out to her ghostly roommate. “I’m sorry about your mom and all. She was really a bitch! Glad that she’s gone, but I’m hoping we can get along.”

There was no answer of course, not a verbal one, but Cordelia saw the movement of broken shards of glass being collected into a pile on the floor. “Kewl! My last roomy liked to clean, too. That’s Angel— tall, dark and vampy. You’ve seen him.”

Dennis moved the broken pieces of the lamp into a garbage can, floating them across the air with his invisible ghostly hands.

“Well, I was at his place just for a couple of days before coming here,” Cordelia chatted to the resident ghost that was the benevolent victim of his own mother’s crazed jealousy. “He’s like a growling bear when someone encroaches on his territory. Can’t even get a little peanut butter on the bed without him going off. Not like he was gonna sleep there, anyway.”

Too bad. The thought crept in without permission. Angel— naked and smothered in peanut butter? A snack before bedtime, anyone? Giggling, Cordelia shared the image with Dennis who caused the glass shards to tinkle in some kind of response to the description.

Was that laughter? Cordelia wondered how long it would take to interpret her silent specter’s signals.

“I know— it’s a *silly* fantasy, but it’s safer than the ones that make me want to rip off Angel’s clothes to have my wild, wicked way with him.”

Cordy defended herself to the ghost who seemed to be listening. “I didn’t even know that I had a wicked way! Not until Mr. Dark and Broody came along.”

“It’s unfair, Dennis. He’s a *vampire* you know, not exactly boyfriend material— unless you happen to be blond or a Slayer. Someone who shops at Fangs-R-Us should not even be *in* my fantasies, overshadowing Keanu, Jude and Brad— but lately he invades my dreams too.”

Cordelia continued to chat with Dennis, the ghost, only afterwards realizing the fact that she had used him to quell herself of the bottled-up emotions that were stirring inside her. She had cut herself off from her Sunnydale friends— even by telephone— not wanting to have to tell them what her life was like as a down-on-her-luck actress living in an ugly and buggy hole in the wall. Talking to Aura or the other Cordettes about her vampire fantasies would not be a good idea, but now she did have something positive to tell them in the form of her great new apartment.

Perking up, Cordy decided to make a few calls when the dust settled. Now that things were looking up, it was time to step out and have a little fun. The middle of the night hours that often accompanied work at Angel Investigations had seriously cut into her social life. Other than Angel and Doyle, she had no real contact with the male population of Los Angeles in weeks.

No wonder Angel was starting to look so good— not that he wasn’t a hottie, but Cordelia wasn’t forgetting the fact that he was a vampire. Angel himself had warned her against it.

“I’ll call Aura when we get done,” she told Dennis. “She’s one of my rich friends from Sunnydale. She’s gonna flip when she hears that celebrities are practically living on our doorstep. I mean, geez— Steve Paymer is *Dave* Paymer’s brother.”

Dennis had no opinion on that.

“This apartment is so great! I’ve gotta thank Doyle. Suppose I’ll have to let him live.”

The Irish seer was a cutie, she thought. Cordelia had noticed that. She always noticed the way he looked at her or flirted. It’s just that Doyle acted like he was hiding something and Cordelia wouldn’t put up with a guy who couldn’t tell her the truth. She knew that he liked her, but so far couldn’t find the guts to say so.

Now that Angel and she had developed their Platonic Protocol for Office Interaction between Vampire Bosses and Human Secretarial Assistants, it would be possible to give Doyle a little more attention. He was a sweetie— in his clownish, badly dressed, irritating and dirty-minded kind of way. Cordy decided to open herself to the possibility that Doyle might be someone she could go out with for a little fun.

She was going to give him the incredibly good news the next morning when the office door opened admitting a curly-headed blonde. Cordelia’s smile brightened at the thought of a new client. The woman even looked like she might not be a charity case. Before Cordelia could give her an official greeting, the blonde’s gaze shifted to Doyle who was sitting on the edge of the desk.

“Francis?”

Doyle jumped off the desk, whirling around to face the newcomer. “Harry! Uhm— where you been?”

So Doyle knew this woman?

Steeping into the room, purse on her shoulder and a large manila envelope in her hands, Harry gave a little shrug. “Around— Kiribati, Togo, Uzbekistan. A few spots that were a little less touristy.”

Still listening, Cordelia finally realized that this Harry person used a different name when she called out to the Irishman. Piping in, she questioned Doyle, “Who’s Francis?”

With a wry smirk, he pointed his thumb at his chest. “That would be me. Allen Francis Doyle.”

Then he realized the impact of Harry’s arrival. Doyle would have to tell Cordy the truth, at least this small part of the truth.

“Cordelia,” he introduced her, “this is Harry— my wife.”

What was it about men who kept secrets? Doyle was such a deadman— again. He could not even stay in her good graces for more than twenty-four hours without needing a swift kick in the butt. Cordelia took it as a sign that the idea of dating Doyle was not meant to be. Even after the whole weird thing that followed with Harry wanting a divorce so she could marry Richard Straley, an Ano-movic demon.

Eew! Marry a demon? Cordy shuddered at the thought.

Doyle was lucky to escape the bachelor party that his soon-to-be ex-wife invited him to. The supposedly peaceful restaurant-owning family held tightly to their demon heritage which demanded that the groom consume the ex-husband’s brain. Angel’s suspicions at the invitation were well-founded and he accompanied Doyle to the party in order to assess the situation. It was a lucky thing that he had done so and even luckier that Harry was a demonologist sufficiently knowledgeable about ancient demon languages.

Doyle got to keep his brain.

Though he swore off attending bachelor parties where he was an ex-relation of anybody, Doyle was now ready to have some *real* fun. Three days after the incident with Harry’s now former Hon Bon, he wanted to get out of the office.

Pacing impatiently in front of Angel’s desk in the back office, Doyle waited for the vampire to get the hint. He was sitting there with his feet up on the desk— reading again. What was so interesting about something he had probably read a hundred times in the past? “So that’s it then? That’s your exciting plan for the evening? A book?”

Glancing up, Angel parried, “I get enough excitement.”

“Yeah,” scoffed the seer. “Of the evil-fighting variety. How about a little off-duty fun?”

“Such as?”

Pushing Angel’s feet off of the desk, Doyle sat down on the edge. “Two beautiful words: Sports Bar!”

Sending Doyle a look that suggested he was wasting his time, Angel turned to put his feet up on the other corner of the desk.

Doyle released a cry of frustration. “Come on! You know they have trivia games on the Internet now? You can challenge against drunks around the world. Anything, please! I just can’t sit around here while—”

His voice dropped off as Cordelia entered the office wearing a strapless black sheath that clung to her in places that left him gaping.

“—While I steal into the night with my incredibly-more-wealthy-than-you prince?” With a wink, Cordelia added, “Makes your life seem a tad drab, doesn’t it?”

Forgetting all about his book, Angel set it down on the desk rising to his feet as he soaked in the sight of her. Beautiful, breathtakingly so— from the wavy chestnut hair clinging to the bare skin of her shoulders down to her strappy high-heeled shoes. Entranced, it took a moment before Angel realized what her words and dress implied.

“You’re going out?”

“Duh!” Cordelia rolled her eyes. Sometimes the vampire could be so oblivious. “I just said that.”

Doyle glanced from Cordy to Angel. Uh oh! He sensed that this surprise date had not been previously approved by the vampire. Not that Cordelia would know to expect that. No doubt Angel would have asked Detective Lockley to run an entire background check on the guy before allowing him within a ten-foot radius of his woman.

It still came as a strange surprise to Doyle whenever he thought of it. Cordelia was really Angel’s mate— she just couldn’t remember it. Despite the fact that she cemented his soul in place leaving no worries about the appearance of Angelus in the face of bliss, Angel was determined to let Cordy have a life where his only role included friendship. Though he had said nothing about it at the time, Doyle realized that this would mean the vampire accepted the possibility that Cordelia would date, mate and marry another.

Angel’s posture suggested otherwise. Later, he’d have to point out to the vamp that he needed to curtail his intensely possessive instincts because his expression hid nothing. “Who is he?”

“Some rich guy, she said.” Doyle clapped a hand on Angel’s shoulder trying to beat a little sense into his head before Cordelia noticed. Turning to her, he continued, “Cordy, just because he has money doesn’t mean that he can make you happy.”

Offended that he would think that, Cordelia huffed, “I’ll have you know that Pierce has a lot more than just money. He has a house in Montecito, he has a Mercedes CLK320 and a place in the hills with a lap pool.”

“Since you put it that way—”

A knock sounded on the office door causing Cordy to smirk at Doyle and Angel. “If I’m not back in the morning, you can just clear out my desk. I’ll be moving on up.”

She swiveled and walked into the outer office to greet her date, leaving a fuming vampire and a concerned seer behind. Angel’s gaze narrowed at the feminine curves of her back and buttocks draped by the black gown. “Moving on up?” He muttered in an undertone that only Doyle could hear. “Not back in the morning?”

Gulping at the low growl that rose from the vampire’s chest, Doyle figured this Pierce guy had better keep his wealthy hands to himself. Angel was already stalking out to the front office to confront Cordelia’s date.

Doyle followed, noting that Pierce looked exactly like he expected— a tall, dark-haired human version of Angel, well-dressed in his expensive suit and tie. Lucky bastard getting to take Cordelia on a date— if he managed to get out of the room alive. Seeming to sense that her boss was putting his protective mode into overdrive, Cordelia quickly attempted to shuffle Pierce toward the door.

“Let’s go.”

Angel’s voice stopped the couple. “What’s your hurry? You didn’t even introduce us.”

“Angel, Doyle, Pierce. Hurriedly, Cordelia made it quick, pointing to each of them in turn before adding, “Bye!”

Pierce was not unaware of the tension in the air, Doyle realized, as if sensing Angel’s predatory nature.

So this was Cordelia’s boss. She had mentioned him a time or two, along with the other one— Doyle— at their first meeting. One of his friends knew one of her friends who had introduced them at a party last night. With Cordelia’s hand on his arm, he attempted to remove her from the room, but found that her imposing boss wanted an interrogation.

“You work, Pierce?” The question sounded casual, but it was only the first.

“I trade— futures and options market.”

“Good. Good,” the looming figure commented. “Out to dinner?”

With a cultured nod, Pierce gave the name of the exclusive restaurant. “Le Petite Renard.”

Noting Cordelia’s irritation with Angel, Doyle tried to break up the tension saying, “Nice spot, but I heard the duck is dry.”

That did not side-track the vampire. Angel turned his gaze on Cordelia holding her there in his eyes. This wound him up so tight that he didn’t know what he would do next. “So, what time *will* you be home?”

Angel forgot for a second that she had her own apartment.

“Late.” Hazel eyes sparkled mischievously, “Don’t wait up.”

Turning to Pierce, she touched a hand to his jacketed chest. “Don’t mind him—.”

The vampire watched their exit with restrained fury. He was mad as hell— at himself. This was what he wanted. Cordy having a life, going out, having fun. When Doyle tried to calm him down, Angel sent him a look so intense that the seer retreated to other side of Cordelia’s desk.

The hell dimension Buffy exiled him to was a lot easier to endure than this. Angel paced to the end of the room and back again, pausing as he reached the carefully arranged coffee pot and mugs. Picking up Cordelia’s favorite mug, he glared at it before throwing it across the front office. It smashed to smithereens taking a window pane with it.

“Happy now?” Doyle dared to ask.

“Tell me that you had nothing to do with this,” Angel practically snarled at him. “Tell me you didn’t put this idea in her head.”

Quirking an eyebrow, Doyle wondered, “What idea? Going on a date? If I planned it that way, Angel, it would be me taking her out instead of Mr. Money Bags.”

“I told you to forget it.”

No demons for Cordy. Got that in one, fangs. “Pierce looks human. He’s loaded, has a great car and looks good in a suit.”

Angel glowered at him in silence.

“What more do you want for her, Angel?” Doyle already knew the answer. He wasn’t certain that the vampire did. “Lie to *me* if it’s necessary. Not to yourself. Not to her. It will eat away at your insides until you’ve nothing left.”

“Don’t tell me not to brood about it,” Angel slumped down onto the couch.

“Then decide what it is you really want, man! Take a stand and don’t look back. You thought you did that once, but the PTB had other things in mind. Get a clue, Angel. Running from it will never solve a thing.”

Angel’s mouth was pressed into a tight line. It stayed that way for some seconds until he told Doyle, “I’m not running. That wasn’t what I was doing by leaving Sunnydale.”

“Right.”

“Cordelia and Buffy—”

Doyle let out a sudden cry, clutching his head in pain as a vision came full force echoing the name of the Chosen One. In an instant, Angel was on his feet looking to Doyle for answers.

“It’s Cordy, isn’t it?” Angel vamped out at the thought of her in danger.

“No,” Doyle gasped as the vision faded leaving only the painful headache behind. “No, Angel. The vision wasn’t about Cordelia. It— it was Buffy. She’s in trouble. She needs you back in Sunnydale.”

next