Title: Protector
Author: Serendipity
Email: trekchic@usa.net
Distribution: Y'all know me. I say yes. Just ask beforehand so I know.
Disclaimer: the characters belong to Joss Whedon
Rating: PG-13 (language, violence and content)
Author's Notes: Oz doesn't exist...again (I'm SORRY!!!) and uhm..Oh, this is my take on what fourth season would be like for 'Buffy' and for the new series 'Angel'. (meaning, all of the previous seasons are fair game. I haven't seen Grad2 yet, though, so don't worry about that type of spoilage. Angel is in L.A.) Only difference: (big one) the Scooby Gang is still in high school. So, the events of season 3 took place their junior year. Oh, and lastly, for those who have read it and are wondering, this is totally unrelated to one of my other stories, When Stars Collide. :) Feedback is, as always, adored, highly appreciated, very motivational and always responded to.
Dedication: to everyone who's ever wanted to have something dedicated to them but never has, this story is wholeheartedly for you.
Part 5
Waiting silently as Willow ran off to get her a soda, Cordelia pondered the conversation she’d had with Whistler a few weeks before.
It had been about a month since she’d learned about Willow and her predicament and the demon was offering her a chance to get involved.
“I don’t get it, though, why choose Willow?” the brunette asked, “AND, why make her go through all this crap and then decide to separate her from Angel? Wouldn’t you think that it’d be smarter just to have them train together? It really doesn’t make sense. Buffy and Faith trained together and granted Faith turned out to be a psychotic little ho, but I mean, they made a really good team for awhile.”
“Cordelia, did you even bother to read the stuff I gave you?”
Her ears redenning slightly, the brunette took a sip from her iced tea, “Yeah, I..uh…glanced through it. It was a big list of obituaries of past Protectors. Depressing much?”
“Yeah, but did you notice a pattern by any chance?”
Shrugging, she stared at him blankly.
“Andrew Miles, 1874. He was protecting a young woman named Eliza Price. He sucessfully executed his duties for three years. They were married in the fourth year. Eight days later, they both died.” The demon recited the facts by heart, “Sarah Brightman-Young, 1753. She was appointed to defend Mitchell McCarry, a Watcher. In 1755, he requested the opportunity to court her and she accepted. Two days later, he was killed during what should have been a routine patrol with his slayer.”
Feeling slightly ill, Cordelia shook her head, “So what you’re trying to say to me is that if a Protector and a Protectee hook up then they’re dead?”
“Well, as poetic as that was, you’re only half right.” Whistler sighed, “It isn’t set in stone, but what it looks like is that every time the relationship gets close, the Protector loses sight of his or her duty and begins to get careless.”
“So you think that Willow has the hots for Angel?” Cordelia asked, incredulously, “Why the heck did you pick her then?”
“Willow was the obvious choice for a ton of reasons and no, I’m not saying that she digs him.”
“Then what’s your problem?” She stared at him impatiently, “You don’t know if she likes him and I really don’t think he likes her…at least not in that way. I mean, hel-lo, there’s the whole Buffy eternal love thing.” She rolled her eyes, “Why force her to go it alone when you don’t even have a reason to believe that they’re gonna hook up.”
“Cordelia, you were there in the hospital room when Willow restored Angel’s soul weren’t you?
“When things got all freaky and she started shouting in Latin or whatever? Yeah.”
“It shouldn’t have worked.”
“What?” She stared at him.
“The spell shouldn’t have worked,” He repeated slowly, “She’s only a novice witch. Her power is there, but she should never have been able to tap into that much energy on her own.”
“Well, she does have that whole ‘Immortal Watcher’ thing going on on the side.” Cordelia countered.
“That has nothing to do with it.” Whistler shook his head, “A soul restoration spell isn’t something that you can experiment with until you get it or ‘accidentally’ stumble into the right vibe. It’s some pretty serious shit.”
“So, okay, let’s say I buy your theory. The point is that it DID work. What does that mean?”
“Have you ever heard of the concept of ‘intent’ in spellcasting?”
“Vaguely. I remember it from that time last Valentine’s day when Xander forced Amy t-,” She shook her head, “Yeah, I’ve heard of intent. It has to be pure for the spell to work or else things wig out.”
“Exactly.”
“So what the hell does that have to do with anything?”
“If Willow couldn’t perform the spell using brute power that she didn’t have, her intent would need to be huge. Think about it Cordelia. It’s a soul restoration spell.”
Slowly, realization dawned on the brunette, “Love.” she said softly.
“Bingo.” He agreed.
“To give him back his soul, she had to love him.” She sniffed, “I think I’m gonna cry.”
“Calm down,” Whistler grinned at her, “Love comes in a ton of different flavors. I’m not saying that she loved him in the way that could make things dangerous, in this case, it’s just worth it to be careful.”
“In this case?”
“She’s the Immortal Watcher. Her council tends to be major tight-asses when it comes to this kinda stuff.”
“What, you mean like kidnapping her and forcing her to do your bidding?” She glared at him.
“No, I mean risking the possibility of getting her killed before she’s 18. If she dies before then, she doesn’t get to fulfill her post.”
“This just sucks more and more, doesn’t it?”
“So, you in?”
“For Willow’s sake, you better believe it.”
“Cordelia?
The voice jerked her out of her thoughts and she looked up to find the redhead standing above her, smiling and hold out a can of coke, “I couldn’t find any diet, but I’ll get some tomorrow. I hope this is okay for tonight. I found some spring water if you want that instead.”
“Not a problem. I don’t like diet that much anyway.”
“Okay then, great.” Swiftly, the hacker sat down at her computer, “Ready to get started?”
“Let’s do it.”
Swinging the door open, Angel surveyed the darkly quiet apartment, “Cordelia?”
Taking a few steps into the foyer, he stuck his head into the deserted living room before trying again, “Cordelia? Are you here?”
“She went out, studly.” Whistler responded calmly as he walked behind the startled vampire, into the kitchen.
“Where did she go?”
Wordlessly, the demon opened up the refridgerator and started to rummage through it, “It’s 10pm on a Saturday night in L.A. and YOU’RE asking ME where she is?”
“She was supposed to wait until I got here.” Angel responded thoughtfully.
“Yeah, well, she’s a chick, they change their minds. You still mad about this morning?”
“Yes,” the vampire responded truthfully, “but I realized on my way over here that what you say and what you do rarely ever match.”
“Nice that it took you this long to realize that I was a hypocrite. Do we have basil?”
“What?”
“Fresh…leafy…basil. Do you know if she has any in here?”
“Why do you need basil?”
Closing the door to the fridge, Whistler stared at him, “Because it’s green and crunchy and I like the way it smells.”
“You’re funny.” Angel retorted flatly.
Whistler nodded in agreement. “And devastatingly handsome, not to mention ridiculously charming. It was a package deal.”
“This is so simple it might actually work.” Willow stared at her computer terminal.
“Was there ever any doubt?” Cordelia pretended to preen over her shoulder as Willow set up the account.
“And you already hooked him up?”
“Yup, although he doesn’t know it yet. I’ll get him access next time I see him.”
“Hey, Cordelia?” Willow glanced up, “Whistler said you were one of my tutors. What are you teaching me?”
“Oh that,” the brunette thought for a moment, “I guess you can call me your society consultant. You know, fashion, manners, the works. That way, you can look poised and gorgeous while protecting Angel.” She snorted, “AND I can finally get that godforsaken Black Power Ranger suit you’ve been made to wear burned.”
“Oh, well, it isn’t that bad. I mean, from what I can remember, it was lightweight and comfortable. It served its purpose. I really don’t mind wearing it.” Willow offered.
“Just wait until I get you into a pair of black Limited pants. They fit like a dream.” Cordelia shook her head, “No, I’m not letting you spend another night in that getup. The only uglier thing I’ve seen in my entire life is that purple and green jacket Xander has.”
“Oh gosh, I remember that!” Willow exclaimed.
“How can you forget it? I’m still emotionally scarred.”
“It’s that fitted double-breasted one that kinda made him look like-,”
“A pimp.” Both girls burst out laughing.
“Three years ago, on H-H-Halloween,” Willow gasped between giggles, “He wore it as part of some rapper costume he had even though it was way too big back then an-and I wanted to go dressed up like a bunny rabbit. My mother wouldn’t let me leave the house with him. I think I just got it just now.”
Erupting into another fit of laughter, the two girls collapsed into heaps on the floor. Willow smiled up at the ceiling. Getting a chance to reminisce about her past made her feel lighter somehow, more cleansed. It was almost as if talking about it and remembering it was what would allow her to finally let it go.
“How is he, Willow? Still staying out of trouble?” Cordelia’s voice rang out from beside her.
“Yeah.” The redhead smiled and sat up, “Buffy and Giles keep him in line.”
Wistfully, Cordelia sighed, “I’m glad to hear it. I keep hoping that some day he’ll be able to look out for himself, but somehow, I doubt it.”
Pausing awkwardly, the redhead realized that their conversation had treaded into possibly dangerous territory.
As if reading her mind, Cordelia stood up, “Okay, enough messing around, I’m your tutor and I say you should get on with it.”
“I hope this is a good idea.”
“Of course it’s a good idea. It’s a great idea. I came up with it.”
“I mean, I hope we don’t get into too much trouble.”
“Just email him.”
Grinning, Willow started to type her letter, “This is so weird. I mean, I wonder if he’ll go along with this. I wonder what he’ll say.”
“We won’t know until you hit send.”
“Hey, you know, this is kinda like Romeo and Juliet!” Willow exclaimed before she realized the implications of her words, “I-in a totally platonic kinda way, I mean.” She blushed, “Like, an updated version or something…using email.”
“Okay, so who would I be?” Cordelia played along.
“Uhm…Oh! You’d be the nurse.” Willow was pleased with her choice.
“Wasn’t she old, fat and ugly?”
“Uhm…I don’t remember.” The hacker suddenly looked mildly uncomfortable, “But what I DO remember is that she was Juliet’s loyal advisor and the only person who she could turn to who could help her out.”
“Well, that I can do.”
“Until the end, when she betrayed Juliet to the entire family. That, of course contributed to the whole entire double suicide tragic ending but oh, look, I think the metaphor is over.”
“Me too.” Cordelia looked slightly confused but decided to drop it, “Uhm, okay, Willow. Maybe you should just finish the email. Make it casual and cool. You know, just be normal. Say hi and introduce yourself and stuff. You don’t want to come off sounding too eager. Just type a few paragraphs and hit send.”
“O-okay. Good idea.”
So six pages later, Willow did just that.
“Now this,” Cordelia held up the small grey object, “Is a mouse. It makes the cute little pointy white thing on the screen go ‘zoom’.”
Angel stared at her, “You do of course realize that I could be out patrolling right now.”
“Just as I could be out clubbing with Antonio, the hot guy from my political science class. We all have to make sacrifices, now pay attention.” Glancing at her watch, Cordelia grimaced. She didn’t have much more time before Whistler came back.
“Why are we doing this again?” he asked, mildly irritated.
“Because I got you an email address, moron.”
“Oh. Why?”
“Because I wanted to. Look, why don’t we go over the basics some other time and I’ll just hook you up to the internet.”
Her fingers flashing lightly over the keys, Cordelia was logged in within moments.
“Is this it?” Angel asked, staring at the flashing banners and scrolling words that covered the page at various angles.
“Yeah. So, go to it. Check your mail.”
“I will.” Angel stood up, “Later. Thanks for the tutorial. I’ll give it a try after patrols.”
“Angel.” Cordelia’s normally exasperated voice took on a deadly tone, “Check your mail. Now.”
“But I just got this address, who would email me so s-,”
“Sit down and check your mail now!” She cracked the command like a whip and he fell back into the seat obediently. “Your login is Fangboy, and your password is cryptic.”
“Fangboy.” Angel repeated slowly, “Why thank you, Cordelia.”
“Not a problem.” She smirked.
“Okay, and…oh look. I have a new message.” He said in wonder.
Standing, Cordelia started out of the room. “Really? I’m shocked. I’m so shocked I can barely stand it. In fact, the shock is so huge that I must leave.”
Ignoring her, he continued to stare at the screen, “So I just click on these letters right here?” Awkwardly, he maneuvered the mouse into position, “Okay. Oh, look it’s from….” His voice trailed off, “Oh my God. I-It’s from…but how did she….? Cordelia!” he called after her.
“Not now Angel, the shock is truly killing me. I have to leave the room to save myself,” the brunette called back from the top of the stairs. “Turn off the computer when you’re done. Make sure it’s off before Whistler gets back.”
Angel was too engrossed to hear her.
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