Chapter three
Angel’s hand finally stopped. He looked around at the scattered pages on the floor then back at the finished sketch on his lap. His fingers traced the delicate lines.
Why? This was not right. He quickly got up and gathered all the pictures together. He stalled, holding the papers over the trash can. Angel looked again at the works of art. They were the best drawings he ever had done.
Angel stood undecided. They were wrong, disturbing and beautiful, he couldn’t destroy them. With a shake of his head, he hid the drawings in his bottom dresser drawer. Angel had to get out of the room.
Wesley was still reading at his desk.
“Has……Cordelia called,” Angel hesitated. He felt somewhat uneasy saying her name. But he was worried. It had been hours since he had left his message.
“Um, “ Wesley jumped.
Angel smiled. Wesley hadn’t been reading he had been sleeping. “What? The sleep god, put you to sleep?”
“Of course not, I was just resting my eyes.” Wesley defended righteously.
Angel raised his brows. “Did she call?”
“No.” Wesley got up and tried to hide his yawn. “I think I will go home now. I’m sure Cordelia is fine.” He added.
Angel just nodded. He wasn’t so sure.
As soon as Wesley left, Angel went back to the phone. Still no answer. Either, Cordelia wasn’t at home, which wasn’t right, not if she wasn’t feeling well. And if she was home and not answering the phone, something must be wrong, Angel decided. He couldn’t just sit here and wonder. Angel grabbed his coat.
***
“Cordelia,” Angel knocked loudly on her apartment door. “Dennis,” he called after getting no answer.. The ghost always let Angel in when Cordelia wasn’t home or sleeping. Dennis seemed to take pity on Angel’s need to be assured of Cordelia’s safety.
Not that Angel asked Dennis to perform that task often, well not that often, because if Cordelia ever found out both her dead roommate and dead boss would really wish that they were oblivious dead, not just differing variations of the un-dead.
The door slowly opened. Angel stalked in. “Thanks Dennis. Where’s Cordelia?” he asked impatiently. A soft sweatshirt flew towards Angel’s head. Angel studied the garment. “She’s at the gym?” he asked, reading the emblem on the shirt. “But she doesn’t feel well,” he argued. The ghost tossed the shirt back up in Angel’s face.
“Okay, okay,” Angel conceded. Dennis obviously thought Cordelia was at the gym. But that didn’t make any sense. Why would Cordelia be at the gym? If she wasn’t feeling well, she should be home not working out. If she wasn’t sick, then she lied to Wesley. But that didn’t make sense either, Wesley or Angel wouldn’t care if she wanted to take time to go to the gym. Something was not right.
Angel looked around. Nothing seemed out of place, there was no sign of struggle. He went into her bedroom. Angel stood in the middle of the room taking an unnecessary breath swallowing the fragrance of the room. Cordelia’s scent was all over the apartment, but it was concentrated in this room. He could practically taste its flavor in the air. Angel started as an object was shoved under the bed.
Angel swiftly moved. He grabbed at the object. It was a notebook, one that Dennis didn’t want him too see. The book kept inching away from Angel’s grasp.
“Dennis,” Angel commanded. “If that has anything to do with where Cordelia is, hand it over now.”
“Kill me.” The ghost whined on the mirror with lipstick. Angel knew that the ghost was not daring him, but expressing a worry about Cordelia’s reaction. Which made the vampire more anxious to see what the notebook contained.
“I’ll let Wesley exorcise you, you know he wants to.” Angel threatened.
“Will not,” the writing challenged.
“Yes, I will. Cordelia won’t even know until it’s too late.” Angel promised.
“Mad,” the lipstick warned.
“Maybe, but I’ll deal with it. You will be gone.”
The small book flew into the vampire’s hands. Angel sighed in relief. He had been bluffing; Angel couldn’t even contemplate Cordelia’s rage, if Angel had actually lost his mind enough to exorcise the ghost. And even if he had, Angel would never have been able to convince Wesley to face her resulting rampage.
Dennis slammed door. Leaving in a huff, after coming to the same conclusion.
Angel settled on the bed, turning the book over in his hands. Maybe, he shouldn’t do this. Dennis had seemed pretty adamant that Cordelia wouldn’t want Angel to see it. Maybe it was personal, a diary. Angel hesitated, then opened the book.
Dennis also implied that whatever was in there had something to do with where Cordelia was. And finding that out was more pressing than Cordelia’s sure to be anger at Angel’s violation of her privacy. And anyway, she may never discover it, he thought hopefully. He started to read.
The first page was dated May 29th.
***
Well, it all started on my birthday, actually the night before.. Which no one remembered, by the way. I knew I should have re-programmed the hotel’s security system…….
***
Damn, Angel growled as a sinking feeling centered in deep in his gut. Damn, damn, damn, he thought over and over again. He pictured Cordelia punching in numbers of the old office’s security code, chattering how Angel would always have to remember her birthday.
May 22nd, that was almost a month ago. He meant to remember, really he did, but he had become preoccupied. Cordelia must be livid. But she wasn’t or at least she didn’t seem to be. He would have expected the Hotel to have been burnt to the ground on May 23 or some sort of maiming or dismemberment to his being.
But nothing, no snide remarks, no hurt pouting, nothing. In fact, she just seemed to be uncomfortable around him. Oh lord, Angel worried, maybe she was too upset to be mad. Maybe, she was uncomfortable around him, because she hated him. But that didn’t seem right either. He would know if she hated him. Wouldn’t he? Puzzled, Angel looked back at the notebook, there was only one way to find out. He started to read again.
***
…Oh well, this isn’t supposed to be a bitch journal. But a recording of the dreams…..Like I was saying they started on my birthday. I know, I’m suppose to write in this stupid book right after each dream, now. I didn’t then. So, I’ll just recap. In the first one, I was in the hotel, sitting at the desk. Angel came in. He had been out, doing who knows what, probably killing something yucky. I was excited, it was my birthday, I remember thinking that he was going to give me a birthday present….I’m not bitching, that’s what I thought …….XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX <
***
Angel skipped the next section. It had been heavily crossed out. Cordelia had been having dreams that had started weeks ago. Dreams that she felt she needed to record. Dreams that had him in them. Or was he just in the first one? What had he done in the dream? Angel turned to the next page.
***
Jeez, this is harder than I thought…..I don’t know why. It’s not like anyone will ever read this, but me. Still…….
***
Angel glanced up guiltily. He really shouldn’t be reading this. But, he had to know what Cordelia had dreamed.
***
But…..I was at my desk waiting for Angel to give me my present. But he didn’t give me a present. He……he touched me. His hand was cool, strong. It traveled down my arm. Next thing, I’m on the desk, nude. Angel is over me, not nude. I try to touch him, but I couldn’t reach him. Which was weird, because he could touch me……And boy, did he touch me. His hands caressed at my skin, never stopping. I still can feel the tingling of my flesh. It was cold, it was hot. His mouth…..Oh god, his mouth. His tongue swirled around my nipple. I can feel the moistness…..or was that from last night’s dream. Or maybe from one of the other’s, who knows anymore….It’s all a blur, one big mind-blowing blur. Oh, this has got to stop. I can barely look at him anymore. This stupid journal thing better work, I’m going crazy…….XXXXXX Oh, this recapping idea isn’t working. XXXXXX Okay, last night’s dream. Hotel again, but not in the lobby. This time Angel’s bedroom, not the first time there, but the first time chained to the bed……
***
The small book dropped to the floor. Angel stared at the written words leaping off the pages at him. They had a life of their own, beckoning him, drawing him back to them. He gulped and leaned tentatively down to pick the book up.
Scared of the power of those words, the imagines that they created, and mostly the feelings that they evoked in him.
***
Wow, that was hard to write. But nothing happened, the earth didn’t open up. No one pointing a finger and shouting pervert. But, damn’t I don’t want to be chained up. Nope. Don’t. I don’t care how sexually frustrated I am. No chaining for me. That stupid book, says that having sex dreams could be the subconscious compensating for a lack of sex in daily life…..Well, duh. I’m certainly lacking. But why chains? And WHY ANGEL? Sure, the book says it’s normal to dream about the people in your life. So why not Wesley or Gunn or hell, anybody…….
***
An involuntarily growl emerged deep within Angel’s throat as Angel came to the end of the page. Wesley, Gunn, “Never,” he growled out loud, not even realizing that he made a sound.
***
Sorry, I had a fit of the giggles. Wesley…..I can see it now. Me chained spread eagled on the bed, waiting patiently as Wesley finished the chapter on domination and submission in some ancient sex journal. Too funny. XXXX Oh, this is crazy. But the book said to write everything in the dream. So here goes. I just hope, if I ever die, Dennis will burn this…..Though, I guess I don’t really have to worry about my mother going through my stuff. And if I’m dead, I won’t have to face Angel, so here goes.XXXX Oh god, how am I going to go into work today. I can do it. I just can’t go up to Angel’s room. Nope, ‘grr’ guy is going to have to get his own blood today. No fetching and carrying for me. I think I would die if I had to see that bed….XXXXXX I’m rambling. Take a deep breath and write. Chained to the bed. Angel is in between my legs, his face so close. I can feel his breath. I know he doesn’t breathe. But I can feel the air leaving his mouth, blowing on my center. Not to cool, but to heat. There are flames building in my belly. His damn hands again are touching me, they won’t leave me alone. They’re everywhere. I fight against the restraints. Did I mention that the wrist straps are leather, soft, supple, not hurting, but frustrating, preventing me from touching. I felt so helpless, well actually I didn’t. Weird, uh. I felt so alive, so strong, so like I was going to burn in flames and die. Then I did die. Not literally or anything, but I know my heart stopped. It did, I swear. It was his mouth that did it that time……XXXXX Well, that pretty much covers everything. I was ravished by my best friend, while chained to a bed and loved every minute of it. I am so going to hell.
***
Angel quickly turned the pages, his eyes scanned all of the other entries, one for every night since the 29th. They were all the same.
Well, not the same, but they each recounted Cordelia’s dreams. Dreams of Angel making love to her, bringing her to ecstasy in every conceivable manner, in every possible location. Angel gripped at the pillow that had some how gotten into his hands. Cordelia’s scent intermingled with the power of her words. Angel was going insane.
He had to get out of there, before he exploded. But there was one last entry, today’s. Angel wasn’t sure if he had the control to read anymore, but he had to know what Cordelia had dreamed last night, that made her unable to face him.
Because, Angel was sure that was what happened. It was written through all of her journal. Each passage described a more intense, erotic encounter between the two of them and after each one she claimed that she couldn’t wouldn’t be able to face him at work.
Well, she didn’t come into work today; she wasn’t returning Angel’s messages. She was hiding from him. Angel had a sinking suspicion why and what happened, but he had to make sure.
June 12
Okay, it’s official….I’m nuts. Last night, Angel bit me, not a little bite. But two big old holes right smack on my breast. And then, he drank, sucked blood right out of my body….. XXXXXX
***
The sinking suspicion in the pit of Angel’s stomach grew into a sharp pain. He had been right. Angel forced himself to read the rest of Cordelia’s reaction. Steeling himself for her disgust.
***
Angel is a VAMPIRE!!!. Okay, that’s not a surprise. I knew that…..I’ve seen his ‘grr’ expression, I’ve made his blood cocktails, but when in the hell, did I start to want to become his drink of choice. XXXXXX Oh god, the dream was so real and so……so…..XXXXXXX Oh, I’m so warped. First, the chains, now this. The stupid book said that vampires in dreams represented powerful and evil creatures that mean all sorts of bad thoughts and feelings of helplessness. Helplessness? Well, maybe….. and the chained sex romp may have meant the same thing.
Am I helpless? XXXXXX Well, other than not being able to stop dreaming about Angel, I don’t think I’m helpless. The stupid writer probably never met a vampire, much less one with a soul. Powerful and Evil? Powerful, sure, but evil? Angel isn’t evil, he isn’t even mean and honestly, I never feel helpless when I’m with Angel. I mean sure he’s stronger, but he doesn’t make me feel helpless, like he is going to hurt me or anything. Not, even dream Angel, with the chains and wicked overbite. I mean it was Angel. I trust him. I lXXXI like him, a lot. The real Angel, I mean. Well, the other one too. It’s not like I dreamed of a strange vampire. No, the idiot that wrote that book doesn’t have a clue what he was talking about. I’m not helpless, just crazy, and majorly frustrated, that’s all.
But Angel bit me and I XXXXXX God, it was so amazing. I blacked out. Went in nerve crashing, sensual overload. XXXXXX I wonder if it would be like that with a real vampire. XXXXXX Not worth the risk. All the others would just kill me. Angel is the only souled vamp that I know and I can’t very well go up to him…..Hi Angel, mind sucking my blood while rubbing your hands all over my body and pounding into me with your…..oh could I just go in a hole a die, now. This is so sick. Damn, I do have a death wish. Knock, knock, Angelus reminder. XXXXXXX OH THIS HAS GOT TO STOP!!!! He is driving me crazy. I can’t see him. I AM not going into work, no way. XXXXXXX
Okay, obviously, it has been way too long since I had sex. This is just my subconscious telling me I need to get laid. Though, honestly since when has my subconscious gotten so horny and so warped.…..Oh, whatever. This has got to stop – I just need to get laid, that’s all. Then, the dreams will stop. Won’t they? XXXXXXXXX OOkay, I can do that. Just exchange a real live guy with my dream Angel. XXXXXXXX I just need to find a hot, live, not best friend type that won’t chain me or bite me.XXXXXXXXX
***
Angel reread the passage. The words ‘amazing’, ‘nerve crashing sensual overload’, ‘sick’, ‘death wish’, ‘Angelus’, ‘laid’, ‘hot live guy’ jumped out at him. Cordelia was as confused as he was and as effected. But at least, he didn’t go out looking for a substitute for the dreams. Angel glanced at the tattered pillow in his hands and she wouldn’t either, he growled out loud.
Angel got up, the remains of the mutilated pillow and the notebook fell to the ground. Angel left the apartment with nothing on his mind but the retrieval of Cordelia before any hot live guy touched her in any manner.
The air of the apartment crackled with Dennis’ annoyance at the mess the vampire left in his wake. The ghost closed the front door and started to straighten up. His communications to Angel smeared and slowly disappeared from the bedroom mirror.
Dennis just hoped that Cordelia didn’t notice the missing pillow, the ruined lipstick, or the ripped pages of her notebook. Otherwise, there would be hell to pay.
