Part 20
Sunday, 10:59 p.m.
Angel stared at the broken coffee table with eyes that saw nothing. His vision was blurred with unshed tears of anger and hopelessness. He was no stranger to these feelings, but never before had the intensity of those emotions been so cruelly peppered with the most concentrated form of desperation he’d ever felt. He’d had the cure to his curse within his grasp and he’d been unable to get it. He’d let Buffy walk out the door with the key to his happiness, and he knew that if she didn’t change her mind, he might remain cursed forever.
Despite the fact that he probably wouldn’t be able to remove the curse that had plagued him for the last hundred years, Angel was certain he’d made the right decision. Leaving Cordelia was not an option of any kind, and if that meant that he had to love her without touching her, then so be it. He knew that she deserved someone who could make love to her, someone who could take her into the sunlight, but he was selfish. No one was going to touch Cordelia except him ever again. She was his whether the curse stood between them or not. That was what Buffy didn’t understand: Angel and Cordelia were so tightly bound together, down to their very souls, that they were virtually inseparable.
For the second time this week, Angel heard Cordelia’s sobbing subside behind a closed door. This time, though, he had the power to comfort her and he had every intention of doing so. He was going to tell her how much he loved her, and nothing short of an apocalypse in her bedroom would keep him from doing that.
***
Cordelia hugged her knees tightly, drying her tear-streaked face on the sleeve of her sweatshirt. Her heart was torn completely in two, one half desperate to run out and comfort Angel and tell him how much she loved him, too. The other half was more practical, considering the fact that their relationship was doomed before it began. More than anything she’d wanted in her young life, Cordelia wanted to love Angel fully and completely, be the partner of his soul and his life until she died. But she knew that with the curse still in place, they would be condemned to relationship of near-touches, guarded conversations, false smiles and secret tears. There was no place that their relationship could go except to a place of misery and longing.
Because of that, Cordelia made the most difficult decision of her life: to reject Angel’s love.
Her heart cried that she was a moron of every conceivable variety for giving up her one true love without a fight, but in reality, Cordelia had no strength left to wage a battle that was lost before it even began. She knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that if she tried to love Angel without touching him she wouldn’t succeed. They would end up in bed together because they loved each other too much to resist, and she would have to face Angelus alone. She would have to kill him, or die trying.
She knew that Angel thought that Angelus was in love with her, and Cordelia didn’t doubt that Angel was right. What she did know, however, was that Angelus’ brand of love was not selfless or compassionate like that of Angel’s soul, only feral and possessively violent. He would claim her, brutalize her, then turn her, all in the name of ownership and a soulless vampire’s brand of love. She loved Angelus, but only as the fire and passion that spiced the steadfastness and loving responsibility of the soul; she didn’t love him on his own, without the soul to restrain him.
Sniffling, Cordelia wiped her face again quickly as the door slowly pushed open and Angel walked into the bedroom. He turned to face her, then sank down, crossing his legs and facing her, their knees touching. He looked deeply into her eyes, seeing in them the war between her heart and her common sense in the split second before she schooled her features into an unreadable mask.
Gently, he reached a hand out and brushed his fingers against the one remaining tearstain on her cheek. He smiled at her tenderly, every ounce of love he felt reflected in the obsidian depths of his warm eyes.
“I love you, Cordelia,” Angel said softly, his smile leaving his face as the intensity of his feelings took over.
His fierce look bored into Cordelia’s heart and nearly demolished the resolve she’d just built to reject him. Nearly, but not quite.
“I heard what you said to Buffy,” Cordelia conceded, shielding the love she felt for him from appearing in her eyes. “But I don’t believe you.”
Angel was shocked. If he’d had breath, it would have been stolen as she declared her mistrust of him. His mouth opened as if to speak, but he couldn’t form any words that would make sense. Of all the things he’d expected her to say, this was the last one.
She continued, her emotional walls going up to protect herself from him even as her heart disintegrated into tiny fragments as she spoke the hatefully untrue words.
“It doesn’t matter anyway, Angel,” she said, her voice eerily void of emotion. “I don’t love you back, even if you really do love me.”
Rage consumed Angel as he watched her lie, although her features didn’t reveal otherwise.
“You’re in love with me, too. I know you are, Cordelia. Stop lying to me and yourself; you won’t accomplish anything by doing this.”
The hazel eyes staring back at him were apathetic, almost lifeless, as she took his heartfelt declaration and threw it to the floor.
“Cordelia Chase does not lie. Pay attention here, moron. I. Do. Not. Love. You.” Her tone was acidic, burning through his soul.
“The hell you don’t,” Angel said, growling, nearly vamping out with frustration and rage at this stunt she was pulling. His demonic nature finally won and took over, frustration forcing him to desperate lengths. He lunged for her with inhuman speed, his strong hand encircling the back of her neck and pulling her lips cruelly toward his.
In contrast to the violence of his actions, Angel’s lips were soft and gentle when they met Cordelia’s, his human face once again in place, her mouth safe from the sharpness of his vampire’s fangs. He darted his tongue out, sweeping the cool surface over her bottom lip, then between the upper and lower lip, urging her to open her mouth for him. Unable to stop herself, Cordelia did as he silently asked, opening herself to his mouth.
At her acquiesce, Angel’s ferocity returned and his visage changed again, his eyes glowing yellow and his teeth scraping her lips. He released all the passion he’d been holding back into his attack on her mouth; it was all Cordelia could do to keep up. His tongue sought hers, toying with it, seeking it out as she tried to avoid such an intimate invasion of her space. She ended up just responding, caught up in the storm of his kiss, desperate with the realization that this was the last time she’d ever get a chance to be with him like this.
Angel finally broke the contact, his eyes still gleaming with amber passion. “You do love me, Cordy. Admit it. You couldn’t respond to me like that if you didn’t.”
Cordelia had closed her eyes before he could see the passion in them and struggled to regulate her breathing, knowing that she had to get control. Reaching deep within herself, she sought the bitch that had so long served her well when she was in danger of being trampled on emotionally. That bitch allowed her to attack those she loved in defense of herself, and she needed that person within to shove Angel away from her irrevocably, so that his soul would be safe.
She raised one eyebrow haughtily, spearing him with a glare that would have withered a lesser man. “I will admit that you do have a way with your mouth, Angel. I can’t deny that you can make me want to tear off our clothes and ride you until I scream. But when push comes to shove, that’s all it is.”
Her voice was audible ice as she continued. “You’d be a good fuck, Angel, but I don’t love you. How could I? You’ve betrayed me more times than I can count, just in the last week alone. You’ve manipulated me, humiliated me, and nearly raped me. I couldn’t love a person like that, much less an undead thing like you.”
Angel didn’t even bother to change back to his human features as her hateful words ripped the fabric of his soul and stirred the wrath of Angelus. Both halves of the vampire responded in sync, shooting up from the floor and towering over Cordelia in a dark, menacing shadow the likes of which the young Seer had never seen.
For a moment, Cordelia was scared to her very bones by the strength of anger and power that Angel was displaying. He’d always been gentle with her, even when he was upset, and she’d never seen him like this. She’d never seen the demon so close to the surface when the soul was still present. Her breath caught in her throat as she began to contemplate the ramifications of what she’d done.
Angel’s soft words burned her with underlying promise. “I don’t know what you’re trying to do, Cordelia, but I will not give you up. I have waited 250 years for my soul mate, and I’m not about to give you up this easily. And don’t think I’m going to let Buffy leave this city without giving me the answer to the curse. I refuse to spend the rest of my life holding you at arm’s length.”
He lowered himself back down, crouching on the balls of his feet, his beautiful human face barely inches from her own. She was trapped by the dark promise in his eyes as he said, “I plan to love every square centimeter of your body before I’m through, filling you with every inch of me, body, mind, soul, and demon.”
Cordelia’s insides liquefied with desire as she envisioned what he planned. The ability to maintain her aloof exterior was becoming impossible.
His cheeks stretched with a sensual, yet foreboding smile as finished his vow. “And if screaming is what you want, sweetheart, I have every intention of letting you ride me until you shriek.”
With that vivid promise, he stood up again, this time slowly, unfolding himself with a graceful power that left her breathless. He gave her one last smoldering look, then turned and left the room.
She heard him open the door and exit, and only then did she let herself release the breath she didn’t know she’d been holding. Her face burned with the heat of his words, and she realized that she had just made a very costly mistake. She should never have assumed that he’d give up on the curse now that he knew it was curable. And he’d just very blatantly stated, multiple times, that she was the only person he wanted in his life and in his bed.
Instead of protecting his soul and her future, her words had only served to provoke the wrath of his demon and the resolve of his soul. Her careless words, though spoken with pure motives, were the worst possible solution to their problems.
Now she just had to hope that he would forgive her for her hasty actions, and trust her when she finally told him what was really in her heart.
***
A fine gray powder sparkled in the cool night air as the vampire exploded into dust. Buffy paused as she watched the small particles float toward the ground, bound by gravity and returning to become one with the earth once more. Strangely, the satisfaction she usually gained from a kill was lacking this time. Her heart was still heavy, the last ten minutes and the death of five skilled vampires not sating her need for destruction.
She usually enjoyed coming to LA, not only to see Angel, and sometimes her father (although that was rarely fun), but because the vampires here didn’t know her at all. They’d only heard rumors of the Slayer, and it was always extremely satisfying to see their faces when they realized that this pretty slip of a girl could pummel their asses all the way to hell and back and not even break a sweat. The victory was that much sweeter when she could deliver her patented smart ass commentary and rid this town of a few of its unwelcome citizens. It always made her feel so useful, like her purpose was a global one rather than limited to Sunnydale and the perils of the hellmouth.
Tonight, though, all her actions felt hollow, as if she were fighting herself along with the vampires.
Buffy straightened her posture, tucking Mr. Pointy into the sleeve of her leather jacket. She scanned the alley for any remaining vampires, knowing that there were none, but doing it anyway. After confirming that she was alone, Buffy began walking slowly out of the alley toward Cordelia’s apartment, her hands shoved in her pockets, her gaze skimming the grimy asphalt beneath her feet.
In a way, she supposed she was at war with herself. The moment she’d left Cordelia’s apartment, she’d felt an overwhelming sense of guilt over her actions and words to Angel. She’d quickly swept the offensive feeling aside, calling up the anger she felt was her right as a scorned woman.
But in reality, she was no more scorned than any other ex-girlfriend. She had no claim on Angel, no matter what her heart told her. They’d gone their separate ways and she’d slept with someone else; she’d even declared herself in love with Riley and run Angel off when he’d come to protect her not once, but twice. If anyone was at fault for giving up on the possibility of their relationship in the future, it was herself.
When Giles had told her how he’d stumbled across a spell reversal for Angel’s curse that would allow him to keep his soul, Buffy had been shell shocked. Her mind had been instantly transported back almost two years earlier to the moment that she’d found him snarling and feral in his mansion, returned from the hell she’d sentenced him to. At the time, she thought she’d closed the emotional circuit from her heart to his, but she quickly realized that she still loved him more than ever. And then, when he’d so abruptly severed their relationship at the end of her senior year, it had again taken her time to get over him, but she thought she’d done it.
But with Giles’ declaration, that connection to Angel had opened once again, this time stronger than ever. The promise of forever that this spell reversal held was enough to make her drop Riley like yesterday’s newspaper. She hadn’t even told him she’d come here to L.A.; she’d just left, ignoring the fact that she was betraying him by seeking to renew her relationship with her ex-boyfriend.
All she’d thought about was the fact that Angel was in LA and he was miserable without her. When she’d seen him with Cordelia, declaring his love for Cordelia, the idea that he wasn’t miserable was like a sensory overload, shorting out her mental pathways and making her act like a cruel bitch. Her insides twisted as she remembered all the times she’d called Cordelia a bitch, and here she was, worse than Queen C had ever been.
She knew she had to apologize to Angel and give him the cure to his curse. If she’d ever loved him at all, she would want him to be happy, even if it mean that her own heart was broken in the process. Loving him unconditionally, even as a friend, meant acting selflessly. And that was something that was more difficult for her to do than she’d ever thought possible.
Buffy was determined to make this right. She owed it to Angel, for all he’d sacrificed for her in the past, and for the memory of the love that had made them both into better, stronger individuals. That love might not have been for forever, but it wasn’t for nothing.
Part 21
Sunday, 11:04 p.m.
Insistent pounding on Wesley’s front door dragged him out of much-needed sleep. He’d been translating more of the scroll that mentioned the vampire with a soul, and he couldn’t seem to tear himself away from it to sleep. He’d finally given in to his body’s demands at 8 p.m. this evening, only to be awakened by his late-night guest.
Only one person he knew would be so inconsiderate at this late hour.
Wearily, he rubbed the bridge of his nose, then rested his glasses on his face. He opened the door, stepping back so that Angel’s rapidly descending fist would avoid his face.
“Wesley,” Angel said tersely. “I need to talk to you.”
“I figured that, what with the pounding and glowering and all,” Wesley responded dryly. “Newlywed life not turning out like you’d hoped?” he asked, earning a glare from Angel, who pushed passed him and entered the apartment.
“Shut up, Wesley,” Angel said, not wanting to talk about Cordelia right now. He got right to the point. “Buffy stopped by the apartment tonight.”
Wesley raised an eyebrow at this unexpected information.
“She said that Giles found a reversal for my curse, one that would allow me to keep my soul.”
Silence flooded the room as Wesley gaped at him. “Why didn’t he call me?” Wesley mused aloud. “It’s not like I’m incompetent.”
“Focus, Wesley. Leave the self-flagellation for later, okay?”
Frowning at Angel’s comment, Wesley nevertheless took charge. “I take it you want me to see if I can get it myself?”
“Yes. Buffy’s less than happy with me right now and she’s holding the curse over my head. She’s punishing me for being with Cordelia instead of her.”
Wesley shook his head in disapproval. That girl had always been too headstrong. “I’ll call Giles. I doubt he would be happy that Buffy was effectively ensuring the survival of Angelus. With your soul secured, you’d be infinitely more effective in your mission. Having to worry about it all the time has been somewhat of a hindrance.”
“Tell me about it,” Angel grunted, remembering how many times he’d wanted to lose himself in Cordelia’s softness. Lately, it had been more difficult than ever before.
“And if Giles won’t help?”
Wesley hated to ask that, but the possibility remained. Giles was notoriously loyal to his young charge, and if Buffy was heartbroken like Wesley suspected, Giles’ need to protect her might overcome his common sense. Lord knows it had happened before.
“Do what you can,” Angel said, his heart sinking at that possibility. He turned to face Wesley, his tone earnest. “I don’t want this curse removed just so I can be with Cordelia, Wesley. I want it removed because I want to know that happiness is a possibility. It’s true that I may never get it; nobody has that promise in life. But I want the opportunity to at least try to be happy.”
Angel’s declaration had moved the former watcher. He so seldom allowed himself to want for anything, or at least display want like that, and the uncharacteristic speech struck a chord in Wesley. He nodded slowly, understanding the need for redemption and the promise for a better tomorrow.
“I’ll get right on it, Angel.”
“Thanks,” Angel said gratefully. As he moved toward the door, Angel stopped and looked back at his friend. “Wesley.”
“Yes, Angel?”
“I’ve waited 100 years for this, so another day won’t matter. It can wait until tomorrow. Get some sleep; you look like hell.”
Wesley just smiled tiredly at him. “Bye, Angel.”
***
In an attempt to get her mind off the debacle earlier that evening, Cordelia had thrown herself into a job she hated: ironing. It seemed like a lame thing to do when her whole future hung in the balance, but she took actually took comfort in the repetition and brainlessness of the task. By paying meticulous attention to each crease and wrinkle, she didn’t have time to let her mind wander. She’d managed to iron all of her clothes and was now looking for other things that she never would’ve even thought of ironing, like sheets and her pajamas.
She was putting the finishing touches on a pillowcase when a knock on the front door startled her out of her work. She turned the iron off and walked to the front door, puzzled that Dennis hadn’t admitted the visitor. She reached to open the door, opening it several inches, but Dennis shoved the door shut again.
“Dennis, knock it off!” Cordelia hissed. She tried the door again to no avail.
“Dennis!! I am so going to kick your transparent ass if you don’t knock it off,” she grumbled.
She knocked on the door herself. “Hello? Who’s out there?”
There was silence for a moment, then she heard, “It’s Buffy.”
“Well, no wonder Dennis wouldn’t open the door,” she mumbled to herself. “What do you want, Buffy?” Cordelia yelled back, her skepticism evident in her tone.
“Can I come in, Cordelia? This is kind of, um, weird.”
Cordy sighed. What the hell; if Buffy tried to kill her, Dennis would help kick her ass.
“Let her in, Dennis,” Cordelia ordered. A pause followed, so she said, “Let her in, Dennis, or I’ll go on vacation for a month and leave you here all alone, with the Elvis Greatest Hits CD on repeat.”
The door swung open rapidly, then Cordelia felt a whoosh of cool air as Dennis stalked off to the back of the apartment, obviously miffed at her.
Left alone, the two women eyed each other warily. Cordelia broke the silence first.
“Come in, Buffy,” she said, obviously reluctant.
Buffy tentatively stepped across the threshold. “Is Angel here? I really need to talk to him,” Buffy said, her eyes not meeting Cordelia’s.
Cordy bristled, recalling what Buffy had said last time, and she couldn’t help taking the Slayer down a peg or two. “If you’re going to try to get him to take you back, he’s not going to do it. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him that upset.”
She paused for a moment to catch her breath, finding that her heart was racing. “He doesn’t deserve to live with that curse hanging over his head, Buffy. Whether or not he wants you back shouldn’t make any difference. I can’t believe you’d take that chance at happiness away from him if you say you love him.”
Buffy cringed at the truth in Cordelia’s words. She’d already come to the same conclusion herself, but hearing the words spoken out loud made her guilt increase exponentially. She’d been such a bitch; she supposed she deserved to receive the brunt force of Cordelia’s admonishment.
Lightheadedness overcame her for a moment as she was overwhelmed by the conflicting emotions roiling around inside her head. “Can we sit down, Cordelia?” she asked, finally meeting her eyes.
Seeing the remorse in Buffy’s eyes softened the corners of Cordelia’s heart. She led Buffy to the couch and they both sat down gingerly, plenty of space between them.
“I wanted to apologize to Angel for what I said, but I guess I should apologize to you, too. You probably heard it all,” Buffy said, her eyes fixed the hands clasped tightly together in her lap.
“I heard it,” Cordelia answered, trying not to let the emotions of those awful moments flood her again.
“I’m sorry, Cordelia,” Buffy apologized, her eyes seeking Cordelia’s, surprised that she was actually able to say the words. “I was just . . . surprised that Angel wasn’t in love with me anymore. I guess I thought he’d wait for me forever.” She couldn’t help the tears that formed in her eyes, her pain still very raw.
“He did wait for you, Buffy, for a long time,” Cordelia said softly, her eyes begging for understanding. “What we have, Angel and I, it was really unexpected. Neither of us were looking for it; it just happened.”
Buffy had to ask. “Do you really love him, Cordelia? Being with Angel isn’t the easiest thing in the world.”
“I do love him,” Cordelia said without reservation. “I know that he can be a total ass sometimes, and he definitely has limitations because of the vampire thing, but he’s such a good person. He’s my best friend first. The love we have for each other developed from that.”
“So you’re not just doing this to torture me?”
Cordelia laughed briefly at Buffy’s statement, then sobered. “A lot has happened since we graduated, Buffy. I’m not the same insecure person I was back then. When I started getting visions from the Powers I didn’t understand how important they were. I tried so hard to get rid of them. Then one day I got flooded with visions by this . . . well, it’s a long story. Anyway, I realized how many people there are out there who need someone like Angel to help them.
“In high school, I never fit in anywhere. My friends all looked at me like I was some kind of movie star, not a real person. You guys thought I was a bitch and you only tolerated me because of Xander. Everyone had a place: Giles was the know-it-all, Willow was the computer nerd, witch girl, and best friend, Angel was your boyfriend and the dark hero, Xander was the loyal clown, and you were the Slayer. I had nothing, except maybe bait girl.
“But here, in LA, I finally feel like I belong. I mean something; I have a purpose. And loving Angel is just the icing on the cake. If I hadn’t fallen in love with him, I would still feel more fulfilled here than I ever have in my entire life.”
Cordelia’s words rendered Buffy speechless. She’d never seen Cordelia with so much light in her eyes. She’d always been a vibrant, vivacious person, but until now, Buffy hadn’t realized that that vivacity never actually reached her eyes. Now, Cordelia was practically glowing. She obviously knew what she wanted and where she belonged.
In that moment, Buffy was more jealous of Cordelia than she’d ever thought possible.
But in that moment, Buffy also had an epiphany: even if Angel wasn’t cursed, they still couldn’t be together. She couldn’t be the woman he needed so desperately.
She was jealous of Cordelia, but she also knew that the life she’d come to LA to create with Angel wasn’t even a possibility; it was only in her imagination. Angel had always said that they couldn’t be together because he couldn’t give her what she needed. Buffy had never seen, until now, thatshe couldn’t give him what he needed.
As the Slayer, Buffy would always be fighting the fact that they should be enemies. She and Angel were both tethered to the darkness, and she would only pull him deeper. Cordelia was the sunlight he needed, and as hard as she tried, Buffy could never give him that. As much as it hurt, Buffy knew that she wasn’t meant for Angel.
The tears in her eyes overflowed and coursed down her cheeks. She looked up at Cordelia, seeing the moisture in her eyes, too. Buffy knew she should hate Cordelia, but she couldn’t bring herself to dredge up the negative energy. She’d lost so much in the last few hours; she couldn’t afford to lose more.
On shaky legs, Buffy brought herself to her feet. She reached into her back pocket and took out a folded piece of parchment paper, holding it out to Cordelia.
“Is this—,” Cordelia asked, stunned that Buffy wasn’t angry.
Buffy just nodded. She swiped a hand across her cheek, collecting some of her tears. “You’re right, Cordelia. If I really do love him, I should let him be happy even if he doesn’t want to be with me. It was just hard to see at first,” she said weakly, trying to smile, but her sorrow preventing the expression from being born.
Cordelia stood up, reaching for Buffy. She wasn’t sure why she felt this compulsion to hug her nemesis, but Buffy looked like she really needed it. Just before she touched her, Cordelia’s head was filled with shooting pain, her eyes closing involuntarily.
“Oh, damn it!! Why now?” Cordelia moaned, the curse fluttering to the floor as she gripped her head. The images flashed before her, making her dizzy. She tried to find the chair behind her to steady herself, but her balance was off.
Buffy froze when she saw Cordelia in pain, stunned that the visions could do that to her. When she saw Cordy struggling to stay upright, she grabbed for her, catching her from behind just before she fell to the floor. One arm slipped around Cordelia’s waist, the other around her shoulders, just under her chin.
One minute, she was steadying Cordelia and the next, she was flying across the room, landing hard on her butt, hitting her head against the wall. She looked up in shock to see Angel towering over her, snarling. Buffy didn’t even have time to catch her breath or react; Angel’s hand grasped her throat and shoved her into a standing position, then slammed her against the wall.
The tone of his voice was deadly, his eyes blazing with anger. “If you ever touch her again, Buffy, I swear, I will forget any love I ever felt for you. I’ll make you so miserable, you’ll wish you’d killed me when you had the chance.”