CHAPTER 17
Glancing around the now irritatingly familiar sight of Giles’ living room, Cordelia released a heartfelt sigh. Designated research central, with Angel’s invite long since revoked, it was fast becoming as second home. She could describe every scratch in the coffee table, knew exactly how many tea cups were in the kitchen, and had long since unearthed Giles’ secret stash of scotch. It was comforting and safe, sure, but roomy it wasn’t and cabin fever was starting to creep in.
Surrounded by stack after stack of weighty tomes Cordelia felt a growing frustration at the lack of help they seemed to provide. Not one offered any clues to restoring Angel’s soul, and hope was slowly beginning to fade. Thousands of years of knowledge were at her fingertips, and yet she felt as clueless as Xander picking out an Armani suit.
With each passing day hope became harder to find. The memory of Angel was slowly being overshadowed by the reality of Angelus and Cordelia was beginning to feel guilt attacking her from all sides. Guilt at her inability to find an answer. Guilt that Angel’s soul was still lost. Guilt that she was slowly losing faith.
Her head was filled with thoughts of Angel. Classes passed in a blur as she replayed every scene of their brief courtship. A romance so young and fragile, cursed to fade before it had ever truly had the chance to bloom. Cordelia hated that her mind led her down these dark paths of doubt and regret, but was powerless to stop it. Her heart longed to fight while her head pleaded for realism.
Cordelia gave herself a mental shake, knowing that these thoughts solved nothing. Hope had not entirely abandoned her, and as long as Buffy and the others fought on then so would she. Faith may waver, but only when the last avenue had been exhausted would she face the possibility of defeat.
“Well, we can cross this one off the list.” Xander slammed his book shut, shattering the peace. “Unless anyone here needs to summon Dalnar, Lord of Eternal Pain and High Priest of the Plains of Never-Ending Torture?” He glanced around the room to check that none of the other occupants wanted to claim the text. Getting no positive replies, he tossed it carelessly onto the table, causing a billowing cloud of dust and earning a reproving look from Giles.
Xander was the strongest advocate for just staking Angelus and being done with it. He could understand Buffy and Cordelia’s reluctance, but in his eyes the vampire had used up all his second chances. Angelus was a threat to those he loved and Xander wanted that threat eliminated.
He sighed, if only life were that simple. Somehow Angel had wormed his way into the collective female hearts and that was why he now found himself nightly researching for ways to re-ensoul the bastard. Friendship sucked sometimes.
“So, hands up who could use a break from all this mind-numbing reading?”
Cordelia’s hand instantly shot up. Willow also tentatively raised hers, only to begin to lower it at the sight of the frown marring Giles’ brow.
“Excellent.” Hands rubbed together in satisfaction at the show of support. “I vote we all go see how Buffy is doing on patrol. She’s sick, so could probably use a few extra pairs of eyes.”
Boredom was one motivation for abandoning the research, but concern was another. Buffy was far from full strength, whatever bug she had having knocked her for six. The last thing he wanted was for her to have to throw down with Angelus. That would be better saved for a full strength slayer, who could stake his ass without breaking a sweat.
“Perhaps it would be wise to check on Buffy given her current state.” Giles was equally concerned for his young charge, but he had discovered that even at half strength, Buffy Summers was not a girl to argue with. “Cordelia, might I suggest you remain here? For safety’s sake.” The last thing he wanted was to double his worry by having both of Angelus’ obsessions wandering around town.
“What?!”
Giles winced at the shrill exclamation.
“No fair. Why should I get punished for being stalked by a psychotic vampire?”
Seeing her chance at a brief respite from the fruitless research being snatch away, Cordelia was prepared to fight. Fresh air was just what she needed to clear her mind of all the dark thoughts endlessly swirling inside her head.
“Cordelia, I wasn’t-“
“I know, Giles.” She held up a hand to stem the inevitable stammery response. “It’s just, I’ll go crazy if I have to sit here another minute surrounded by books that don’t seem to help.”
His head bowed at the truth of her words.
“Besides, Willow and Xander will be there and Buffy. Anyway, Angelus hasn’t actually approached me; I think he enjoys creeping me out too much.”
Memories of sketches left in her locker at school, on the seat of her car, and even one taped to her bedroom window, paraded through her head, sending a shiver down her spine. The knowledge that she was being watched did little to calm Cordelia’s already thinly stretched nerves.
It was the waiting that was killing her, killing them all. Angelus would strike, tales of his exploits littered various texts, but much of the vampire’s pleasure came from playing with his victims. Dancing around them like a shadow boxer, testing their strengths before landing the knock-out blow.
Giles slumped in defeat. “Very well, but I want you to promise me that the moment you even suspect any danger you will get to safety. All of you.” His gaze swept the room to include the others.
“No problem, G-Man.” Xander’s reply was muffled as he rummaged through the weapons chest for extra stakes and holy water.
“We’ll be fine, Giles. Really. We’ll just check on Buffy and then head home. No problems.” Ever the voice of reason, Willow sought to reassure the worried watcher.
Giles watched the small group leave, trying to ignore the familiar knot of tension building in his shoulders; it had been his close companion this past week. He turned from the door and made a beeline for his cleverly hidden bottle of Scotch. A sense of foreboding settled over the room, and he took a deep swallow of soothing amber liquid, praying that he hadn’t just made a costly mistake.
***
The tea party was in full swing. A menagerie of perfectly attired guests, nervously waited as their dark-haired hostess flitted about the room. She fussed with the linen tablecloth until it flowed in a graceful waterfall, its lacy ruffle pooling onto the floor. One last check to make sure that each piece of china was set in just the right spot, and her face lit with delight. And pleased with her fete, she sank into her chair, striking up an earnest conversation with Miss Edith about the terrible manners of today’s youth.
A teenaged delivery boy, securely tied to one of the chairs, watched the terrifying festivities through fear-filled eyes. An hour ago a bad night was determined by the paltry size of his tips. Now, Kyle Martin swore to the heavens, and the good Lord himself, that were he to escape this nightmare, he would never again complain about bad tippers.
“She is planning on eating the guy?” Angelus watched the scene in front of him, a faint smile of amusement curling his lips. His favourite childe never failed to divert him.
“Course she is, but you know Dru, she does love to entertain.” Spike joined the dark haired vampire in watching the macabre party, relieved that for once his wasn’t being press ganged into enjoying an imaginary cup of tea. Being love’s bitch definitely had its low points. “Anyway, shouldn’t you be out throwing nasty comments at someone?” Steering the conversation to an infinitely more entertaining subject, Spike turned to his grandsire.
“You’re making even less sense than usual, Spike.”
“I’m just saying, you’ve been free, what…a week now? And you’ve achieved exactly nothing.” The peroxide blonde smirked at the older vampire. “What’s the matter, mate, losing your touch?”
“Spike, my boy, you always did lack finesse.” Angelus leaned forward and continued in a confidential tone. “It’s called seeing the bigger picture.” He splayed out his hands to emphasise the point.
“Riiight, the bigger picture.” Assuming a thoughtful expression, Spike appeared to give the matter some thought. “Is that the picture that includes you trying to taunt the slayer to death? Or the one where you keep sending pretty pictures to the cheerleader? Help me out, Peaches, I’m confused.”
“Not really a new feeling for you.” Angelus shot back, unhappy with his actions being questioned. He was a thinker; he planned to perfection, created art out of the hunt. Spike lacked his passion, his hunger for the perfect kill. “I have a plan.”
The sound of palm hitting forehead rang through the room. “A plan! Of course, now I understand. So when you made fun of the slayer’s skirt before fleeing into the night, it was all part of “the plan”.” Air quotes appear around the words. “Now that was truly Machiavellian.”
Spike casually lit up a cigarette and grinned at his grandsire. Baiting Angelus almost made having him around bearable. Almost. He was just as susceptible to having the piss taken out of him as anyone else, more even because the silly bugger truly believed that he was better than everyone else.
Angelus didn’t deign to reply; instead he turned and once again fixed his attention on the Teddy Bear’s picnic from Hell. Dru was bound to lose interest soon and need another distraction. He smiled faintly at the thought of winding the younger vampire up; nothing riled Spike more then the connection between Angelus and Dru, and the brunette’s endless fascination for her sire. Blondes, natural or fake were the easiest of targets.
Spike could never hope to understand that anticipation only increased the thrill of the game, that the joy of emotional torture heightened the pleasure of the physical pain to come. The blonde was more a bite first ask questions later kind of vampire. Simplistic, but dull.
“You can’t rush perfection, William.”
And perfect it would be. Buffy would be thrown into a world of emotional pain with guilt and failure as her constant companions. Stripping her of all that she was, reducing her to a quivering wreck ripe for the kill.
His mind then turned to his other project, the one that filled him with a euphoric sense of anticipation. Cordelia he wouldn’t break, the fire inside her called to him. He was courting her, making her aware of his intentions, keeping her off balance. And when she was ready, he would take her and revel in the fruits of his labour.
Cordelia was a woman who would fill a man’s head and distract him for an eternity. His mind filled with all the pleasurable possibilities stretching before him. The soul had only dreamed, but Angelus would put into practice all those half-formed longings.
“Excuses, mate. We’re vampires. We see. We want. We take. ‘S why we’re stronger than them.” Angelus had always been a pretentious bastard. “Unless you think you think you can’t handle the slayer.” Spike paused. “I’d be happy to help you out with that.”
The sly dig hit its mark.
“I could take the slayer anytime, boy. Remember who taught you everything you know about being a vampire.” The growl of Angelus’ voice thrummed through the room.
Spike’s eyes were strangely dead as their gazes met. “Not likely to forget.” He held up his hands placatingly as he backed out of the room. “I’m just saying, why wait? They could be re-cursing you right now. Planning’s fine…for those of us that have the time.”
Angelus watched the blonde leave through narrowed eyes. It irked him that Spike had a point. The thought that his carefully laid out strategy could come to nothing, ignited a spark of fury within him. He would kill the slayer and he would have Cordelia Chase. Anticipation be damned, it was time to act.
***
An eerie silence hung over the seemingly deserted cemetery. A chill breeze ruffled the leaves stubbornly clinging onto their branches, causing shadows to dance menacingly across the headstones. It was a night made for evil, inviting it to come out and play. The sane residents of Sunnydale were firmly ensconced behind locked doors, only the very bravest venturing out on such a night.
The trio of teenagers wound their way through the forest of markers erected to the town’s dearly departed. Each clutched a wooden stake; and Willow, ever the forward planner, carried a bag of snacks in case anyone got peckish.
“So can I copy your trig homework or not?” Xander’s voice, tinged with desperation, floated through the graveyard.
Dark eyes tracked the group’s progress, a gleam of satisfaction reflecting in the moonlight.
“No. But I’ll help you with it, it’s the only way you’ll ever learn anything.” Her voice firm, but gentle, Willow gave the same answer she always did, finding the familiarity comforting after all the upheaval of recent days.
Life in their little group had reached new levels of weirdness and Willow was finding it hard to adjust. Juggling Buffy’s despair with Cordelia’s pain was hard enough, throw in a healthy dose of Xander’s thirst for revenge and you had the perfect recipe for a migraine.
“Fine. Disrupt the system.” Xander flung his arms up in defeat. “But let my F be on your head.”
“We don’t have a system, and shhh. We’re supposed to be stealthy.” Willow frowned at her friend before exchanging an eye roll with Cordelia, still marvelling that she could now feel so comfortable with the girl who had once made her run for cover. Life sure did take some funny turns.
Tuning out the ongoing disagreement, Cordelia inhaled deeply, a small shiver dancing down her spine. Arguing her right to freedom was one thing, the reality of being out another. Vulnerable. There was no other word for it. No walls to give the illusion of safety, no invitation necessary. Out in the open, an easy target…
“Hey, are you ok?”
A warm hand came to rest on Cordelia’s arm. Glancing down she saw it was stiff with tension, her stake half raised. Looking up into concerned brown eyes, Cordelia forced a small smile to her lips. “Sure, it’s just colder than I expected.”
Resolutely she moved forwards, brushing off Xander’s much appreciated concern. Sharing her fears would not be helpful, finding Buffy on the other hand would. A feeling of unease had settled in her stomach and Cordelia craved the added protection Buffy would offer. Even a sick slayer at half strength was better than a vengeful Xander armed with only the power of sarcasm and a stake.
A high pitched yelp suddenly tore through the air, and Cordelia tensed ready to fight or flee, convinced that her worst fears were about to be realised. She whipped around to confront whatever evil lay before them and froze. Slowly she blinked once, twice and on the third attempt accepted that her eyes really weren’t lying.
Before her lay a scene of comic genius. Xander sprawled in an ungainly mass on the ground, cowering in fear from a short, blonde slayer in the grip of a sneezing fit. Genuine laughter bubbled up inside, the first Cordelia had felt in days.
“Gees Xander, graceful much?”
The object of her amusement struggled to his feet; narrowed eyes fixed firmly upon his tormentor; but before he could reply an angry slayer cut him off.
“What are you guys doing here? It’s not safe!” Buffy gave each of them a disapproving look, all the while fighting the urge to sneeze again. Disbelief that Giles would let any of them leave the safety of his house mingled with relief at having a few extra pairs of eyes to watch her back. As the night wore on her strength was slowly draining away, leaving her pining for the warmth of her bed.
Pale lips twisted into a cruel mockery of a smile as his stage was effortlessly set.
“We thought we could help out.” Willow offered hopefully, hating to see her friend so pale. “I brought snacks.” The bag was waved temptingly under Buffy’s nose.
“That’s nice, but –“
“Plus, we’re all concerned about how gross you look.” Cordelia, realising that Buffy was about to lecture them decided to take the surest route to safety and comment on the girl’s appearance.
Buffy’s eyes widened in panic as her hands automatically flew to her hair.
The bite that would once have accompanied such a remark was noticeably absent. In the wake of disaster, strained camaraderie had blossomed into a tentative but real friendship. It seemed possible that something good would come from their current horror.
“And the real question is, why wouldn’t we want to spend our night hanging out in a creepy, vampire-infested graveyard, huh?” Xander looked around at the group expectantly, determined to keep the mood light. He met the steady and unconvinced glare of Buffy and relented. “Ok, ok, you caught us. We got bored researching and thought you could use a hand, being sick and all.”
Buffy maintained her stern expression for as long a possible, before giving up and allowing a tired smile to stretch her lips. The slayer side may have been shouting to send them all home to safety, but the sick teenage girl in her was relieved to have the company and the back-up. Life-threatening danger aside, having her friends there felt right.
“Fine. You can stay for a little while. So what snacks did you bring?”
Moving forward, the group crowded round Willow’s bag, gently arguing over who got what.
Pushing aside the growing sense of foreboding, Cordelia allowed herself to enjoy this simple moment of friendship. She had been welcomed into their group without question. She was included in research plans, patrol duty, hell she had even risked another position-threatening trip to The Bronze. The threat of Angelus may have forced their proximity, but the promise of true friendship had cemented it.
Cordelia claimed a shiny, green apple from the snack bag and moved away from the group. A gentle breeze whispered through her hair, raising goose bumps on exposed arms. Suddenly uneasy, wide hazel eyes began to scan the graveyard, searching for a familiar dark figure she was sure was out there watching. Angelus always seemed to be watching…waiting…
Large hands clenched eager for the night’s fun to begin.
That it had come to this, living in fear of the man she had seen hope in. Prince Charming had ridden off into the sunset, leaving behind a damsel distressed, dazed and devastated.
“Ok, snack time’s over.” Buffy hopped from the gravestone she had been perched on and brushed off her trousers. “I have work to do.” Work kept her focused, kept her sane.
Willow frowned at her friend. “Buffy, come on, one night of rest isn’t gonna kill you.”
“No, but it might kill somebody else.” Green eyes filled with pain and regret scanned the group. The weight of responsibility weighed heavy on slim shoulders.
Cordelia felt her heart clench in sympathy. She too felt the irrational burden of blame. The Chosen One didn’t have exclusivity on guilt complexes in their little group. Cordelia may not be the slayer, but each death caused by Angelus broke her a little more inside and made her rage against the unfairness of life.
“You mean Angel might.” The increasingly familiar ring of hostility was present in Xander’s tone. Each day that passed allowed his hatred for the vampire to grow and solidify, as far as he was concerned the only good ending in this scenario was needing a dust buster to gather up Angel’s remains. “Buffy, you’re sick. He’s at full strength; you’re only half a slayer.”
“But I’m still the slayer. And as long as I am, Angel’s not gonna kill anyone else.”
“Aw…c’mon.” A velvet smooth voice pleaded.
Unsuspecting prey, they froze; and taking advantage of their momentary distraction, Angelus charged past the slayer. No more watching, no more waiting, playtime was over. His large frame becoming little more than a blurry streak of dark shadow, he closed in on his intended target.
Cordelia felt the air whoosh from her lungs as she hit the ground in a dizzying rush. Befuddled senses fought their way to the surface, bringing with them a dread sense of reality. The very large, very solid frame of the deadly vampire surrounded her.
Two gazes met, one filled with fear and uncertainty, the other dark, fathomless and brimming with evil passion.
“Just one more,” whispered from cool, pale lips. And Cordelia’s last vestige of hope faded into the twilight.
The End
