Part 9
Cordelia had turned into a stalker.
The thought flitted through her lust-fogged mind as she stood in the open doorway of Angel’s suite. It was very early morning, just before sunrise, and the vampire in question was out cold on his bed. He lay there, still as death, and she stared at him, wide-eyed and salivating.
Finally, she blinked, the rational part of her brain scolding her for her crazy behavior. Closing her mouth and swallowing, she placed a hand on the doorframe, half for support, half to keep herself from running into the room and jumping Angel. She closed her eyes and breathed deeply, trying to tamp down the urge as it swept over her. God, she had turned into such a freak.
It had been one week since she and Angel had first slept together. One week since they’d been possessed at the ballet and had let things go too far. The second time had been later that night in the basement, and after that, she’d sworn that she would stay away from him, no matter how sexy he looked or how horny she felt. She’d finally gone home in the wee hours of the morning, locked herself in her apartment, determined to stay strong.
Her resolve had lasted less than 24 hours.
The next day, she’d come into work feeling somewhat normal. But as soon as Angel had walked into the room, her desire for him had swamped every portion of her brain and body, and it was all she could do to keep herself planted on her chair. Angel had sensed it, drawn to her like a moth to a flame, but he, too, had attempted to stay away. They’d been successful for nearly an hour, but somehow, they’d both passed the bathroom at the same time, their arms brushing each other, and it was as if a fire had been lit. Their eyes met each other, his gaze liquid heat, and they’d stumbled into the bathroom, screwing in a frenzy that scared them both.
They’d been together ever since then at least once, sometimes two or three times, every day. Cordelia would go home at night, determined to get through a day without attacking him, but it seemed impossible. The lust would overwhelm her, making her clumsy, almost feeling as though she’d been drugged. Her eyes would focus on him, her gaze hot, heavy, and he’d respond to it, his own eyes darkening with an answering desire. They’d both have enough mental capacity to make excuses for leaving, then find the nearest dark corner or closet and take each other wildly.
It was almost violent, the way she needed him. There hadn’t been a time since the ballet that they weren’t rough with each other; she had the bruises and scrapes to prove it. There was no doubt in her mind that Angel had claw marks and bruises as well. It was just that she felt on fire until his cool body connected with hers. And then, when he entered her, it was like throwing a bucket of ice water on the lust that threatened to consume her from the inside out. Her mind instantly cleared as she climaxed, every single time, and remorse inevitably followed.
Always, they had sex in the dark. Always. If there was some light present, she’d stare over his shoulder at some random object and go through the motions without looking at him. She couldn’t look at him. She was too ashamed of herself. Every time they parted, she’d wonder why he never said anything, why he let her use him like this. She was taking advantage of Angel and she hated herself for it.
On top of that, she’d had dreams of Sebastian nearly every night. Dreams where he touched her as Angel had, but she didn’t like to think about it. The dreams left her aching, desperate for the evil vampire, and it scared her.
Opening her eyes, Cordelia once again felt drawn to the still figure on the bed. Angel hadn’t moved an inch while she’d been recalling the events of the last week, and as far as she knew, he hadn’t realized she was even in the doorway.
Cordy let her mind open, just for a moment, to the possibility of walking across the room to him, and she swayed with the surge of lust that followed. Closing her eyes and groaning, she reached her other hand up and gripped the opposite side of the door frame, squeezing her legs together tightly and gripping the wood until her knuckles were white and her fingers were numb. God, if she could just resist, just once . . .
But, like the passage of time, it was inevitable. Slowly, her mind fogged with the urgency of her need, and she felt herself moving, her feet bringing her, unwillingly, to the side of the bed. Pale moonlight streamed in a crack between the drapes, illuminating Angel’s face and the upper portion of his chest.
She stood near him, panting. Holding one hand out, she reached for him, hovering just above his upper arm, her fingers shaking. Clenching her teeth, she determinedly curled her fingers into a fist, and quickly brought it back to herself. She tried, one last time, to control her urges, stuffing her fist against her lips, tears welling up.
But again, she couldn’t help it. She reached for the hem of her shirt, pulling it over her head, the rest of her clothing following quickly.
Angel woke just as her panties fell to the floor. Slowly, he opened his eyes, seeing her there, naked, tears glittering against her cheeks. One hand was covering her mouth, as if to control the tears, and his heart broke at her despair. Her eyes met his in the dim light, and they held the gaze for a moment.
Then he sat up, the sheet pooling around his hips, and he leaned against the headboard. She stood there, hesitating, her body screaming for release, but her mind’s shame was preventing her from following through. Angel, having seen her go through this every time they’d slept together in the past week, decided to spare her the torment. He raised his arms to her, holding them out in blatant invitation, waiting.
Cordy’s breath hitched in a sob and she hesitated a fraction of a second before throwing herself into his arms. The moment her skin touched his, her tears were forgotten. She straddled his thighs, yanking the sheet violently out of the way, grasping him in her hand. He was ready for her in seconds, his heavy breathing underscoring his desire, and she quickly pulled herself up, guiding him into her. She groaned, burying her face in his neck as his cool length began to soothe the burning inside.
It was difficult for Angel, more so than it had been all the times before, to have her in his arms. The tenuous bond they’d had since he’d bitten her had given him some link to her feelings, but only the strongest ones, like fear, lust, and despair. He hated not knowing what she felt right now. What she felt besides the lust.
This time, the hopelessness was even greater than usual. He’d been dreaming about her, dreaming that she loved him, only to wake up and find her there, the reality of his situation mocking him. His own eyes welled with tears, the depth of his despair eating away at him like acid etching metal. His hands grasped her hips, setting her rhythm, and he closed his eyes as the lust washed over him, shoving away the pain for baser pleasures.
Being inside her was like touching heaven and hell at the same time. Heaven because he wanted her so badly, because he loved her so much. Hell because he couldn’t have her. Hell because she’d never said she loved him. Since the ballet, not once had he looked into her eyes as he stroked her from the inside out, and suddenly, that’s what he wanted more than anything else.
One hand left her hip and reached for the lamp on the bedside table, flipping it on. Cordy’s eyes flew open, the look in them panicked.
“No!” she whimpered, stopping her movement long enough to reach for the light. He caught her wrist, not letting her turn it off.
When she opened her mouth to protest again, Angel brought her hand to his lips, drawing her fingertips in his mouth and sucking on them. Her eyes closed as the nerve endings tingled, sending shocks throughout her body, and she forgot about the light, forgot about her self-loathing and began moving atop him again.
Angel focused on her face, releasing her hand and bringing his up to cup her jaw, stroke her cheek, run his fingers across her open mouth. Watching her gain her pleasure was so mesmerizing. He could tell that she was close, the steadiness of her rhythm being broken as the urgency became greater. Suddenly, the love Angel felt for her bubbled up in him and overflowed, spilling from his eyes in tears. She was so beautiful, and he loved her more than he’d ever loved anyone.
Atop him, Cordy kept her eyes squeezed tightly shut, blocking out the light. She felt her body begin to tingle all over as she approached her climax, but still, she couldn’t bring herself to look at him. She knew she would see loathing in his eyes, and she couldn’t bring herself to face it. Not from him. Not from someone she cared about so much. She brought her hands up to his shoulders to give herself more leverage, and Angel took his other free hand, bringing his thumb to her clit and stroking softly in circles. Gasping, she felt the sensation overwhelm her, and she increased her speed.
Within moments, her orgasm overtook her, her jaw going slack as her body convulsed. Her eyes opened against her will as her mind cleared, and in the golden light, her gaze locked with his. What she read there shocked her.
Tenderness poured from his eyes, raw and open. Suddenly, his touches seemed softer, his movements more gentle, and she realized that there was something different here. Something she couldn’t define, but it bathed her with its warmth, reassuring her on the most elemental level. She moved again, stroking him with her body, and watched as his face contorted in pleasure, then morphed into his demon as he came. He rested his head against her shoulder, his mouth nuzzling her neck, his fangs lightly scraping her skin.
In wonder, Cordelia cradled his head to her neck and realized that somehow, this time was different than the basement had been. Watching Angel’s face just before he came made Cordelia realize that this was really making love. They weren’t just having sex, as she’d thought before. The look in his eyes had been so much more than that. It was something deeper. She was afraid to ask what, but knowing that it was more than the lust of his demon was enough to make her feel less miserable.
Pulling his head gently away from her neck, she kissed him, slowly, deeply, for the first time in a week, her fingers running over the ridges on his face.
Coming back to himself, Angel opened his eyes, turning them away from her, his lips set in a grim line. She could almost hear the self-flagellation going on in that head of his.
It was way past time they talked about this.
“Angel,” she said softly, bringing her hand up to trace the now-bumpy eyebrows. Yellow eyes came up to meet with hazel ones, and the pain and despair in them nearly broke her heart. She leaned over and kissed his mouth again, softly, running her tongue along his bottom lip and lingering there.
He let her kiss him for a moment, then pulled back and looked away.
“Angel, listen to me,” Cordelia said softly. His eyes reluctantly came back to meet hers. “I don’t know what’s going on in that head of yours right now, but you need to stop feeling so bad about this.” She took a deep breath. “We both do.”
He shook his head. “Cordy, what we’re doing here, it’s. . .” he trailed off, his face shifting back to the human mask she loved so much.
“Shhh,” she whispered. “Angel, what we’ve been doing is definitely complicated. Crazy, even. But—” she said, when she saw his eyes cloud over even further, “I need it.”
He seemed to think about this for a moment. “How?” he finally said.
She frowned, trying to come up with an answer. “I don’t know, it’s. . . complicated,” she said again. “Ever since Sebastian bit me, its been hard to control myself around you. It’s like I’m drawn to you as a vampire. Like I’ll go insane if I can’t be with you.”
“Then I’m making it worse,” he said, worriedly, remembering all the times that he’d been the one to grab her and drag her off someplace. She hadn’t been the initiator all the time.
“No!” she was quick to counter him. “You’re making it better, Angel. After the basement, I felt better than I had since he bit me. Almost normal. And every time since then, it helps me.”
She stopped, brushing his lips with her thumb. “It just doesn’t last very long. That’s why I keep coming back to you.”
He kissed the palm of her hand, his fingers stroking the soft skin of her lower back. “This isn’t good for us, Cordy,” he said softly. “We can’t keep this up.”
She frowned, not wanting to think about it, about a time when she couldn’t be with him like this anymore. “It’s just until we kill Sebastian.” Her eyes searched his. “I need you until then, Angel. I don’t think I’ll stay sane without you.”
He stayed silent, his love for her warring with his need for self-preservation.
“Please?” she whispered, and he broke inside.
Finally, he nodded, leaning forward to kiss her lightly. “I’ll be here, Cordy, for as long as you need me,” he whispered.
She sighed in relief, sinking against him. “Thank you,” she whispered. “Thank you.”
***
“Finally!”
Wesley’s sigh pierced the quiet tension in the room. Before him, a thick, dusty book sat open, its pages filled with a scrawl that looked more like tangled ivy than a legitimate language.
“You found something?” Fred asked excitedly, rushing up to stand near his elbow. She closed the book she’d been holding, shoving her finger between the pages to hold her place.
“Yes,” Wesley said, nodding, and everyone else in the room gathered near his desk. Cordelia and Angel made certain they were standing very far away from each other. Being distracted right now was not a good idea.
They’d gathered to do their research in the brightest part of the day, knowing that Sebastian couldn’t stream through the sunlight even in his incorporeal form. Wesley had done enough research to find out that he had to recorporealize on a regular basis if he didn’t want lasting side-effects. That meant they could assume, somewhat safely, that the middle of the day would be Sebastian-free.
“I think this will work,” Wesley said, continuing. He pointed his finger at an engraving on the book’s page. “This urn is what we need. We can trap Sebastian’s essence in it and then destroy him inside it.”
“Good,” Angel said, crossing his arms and leaning back against the wall. “How do we get him in there?”
“I discovered that yesterday,” Fred said excitedly. “We have to catch him in the middle of his tricks. When he’s between solid and incorporeal, his power is weak.”
“Then we can use an incantation to direct the particles of his essence to the container,” Wesley finished for her.
Gunn shook his head, frowning. “Sounds kinda weak to me,” he complained. “Won’t he be prepared for this?”
Their boss sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “Probably, under normal circumstances. But I would imagine that by now, he’s worked himself into a frenzy because he’s waited so long. He probably won’t be focused on anything but getting to Cordelia.”
A wave of fear passed through Cordelia, but she swallowed, then breathed deeply to calm herself. “It sounds like a good plan to me, Wes,” she said quietly.
“Did you ever figure out how he’s able to do all of this?” Angel asked. He’d heard rumors of vampires with special powers, but he’d never encountered one before Sebastian. Gunn and Groo’s reconnaissance of Sebastian’s mansion had turned up nothing helpful.
Shrugging, Wesley pushed back in his chair. “I called Giles earlier this week. He told me that Dracula had contacted Buffy sometime last year, and he’d had similar powers. It seems that they are some form of Gypsy magic.”
Angel frowned fiercely at this. “Damn Gypsies,” he muttered.
Wes half-smiled. “One good thing is that they always have some sort of antidote for their magicks. They believe in balance.”
“So now we have to go dig up some dusty urn?” Gunn said, his voice tired. He’d been sent on countless errands for rare books in the past week, and it wasn’t lost on him that he’d probably be sent out for this, too.
“No,” Wesley said, shaking his head. “The spell calls for any sort of container with a lid.”
Gunn raised his eyebrows. “So we could use Tupperware and it would be all good?”
Wesley frowned at Gunn’s irreverence. “I suppose,” he admitted reluctantly.
Cordy laughed wryly. “That would be too funny. ‘Vampire Destroyed by plastic container.’ Sebastian’s so upper crust he’d probably be insulted with anything less than a silver urn.”
“I think a clay pot with a lid, or some type of jar would probably be our best option,” Wesley said.
“Get a glass jar,” Fred suggested. “Then we can just set it out in the sun, and . . . poof! Dust bunnies.”
Angel’s smile, a sinister curve of his lips, stretched across his face at the thought. He deserved it, the bastard. Death by sunlight was painful, or so he’d heard. Much worse than staking.
“Let’s do it,” he said, nodding.
“Very good,” Wesley said, closing the book after marking his page with piece of scrap paper. “He’ll make his move soon, I would think.”
Cordelia shivered. Somehow, she knew Wesley was right.
***
That night, Angel sat alone in his suite, staring into the darkness outside and frowning fiercely. A half-empty bottle of Glenfiddich sat near him, a glass in his hand, half-full. Cordelia had just left him, and while the sex this time had been less painful emotionally, he was still confused and heartbroken. She needed him, but she’d never said she loved him.
He shoved aside the ache in his heart and turned toward the worry beside it. She was getting worse, and it scared him. The haze in her eyes before she came to him got worse each time, her movements clumsier, her need greater. Tonight, she’d stumbled to him, practically falling into his arms, and he’d had to get her started before she was able to take over and get what she needed from him. He’d tried to be gentle, but it seemed to be painful for her, and when he’d quickened his pace and roughened his movements, she’d sighed with relief. He’d brought her off quickly, and her eyes had cleared, finally.
The partial claimings were taking their toll on her. Sebastian’s had been deep, powerful, his intent clear. Angel’s at the ballet had been weak, his soul preventing him from completing it, but it had added to her condition. Every day, she got worse, and every day, he feared he’d lose her.
More than all that, his worst fear was that when Sebastian came, he wouldn’t be able to save her. That she’d go to him, unable to help herself, and he wouldn’t be fast enough to stop him.
Losing Cordelia was not a scenario he was willing to consider.
***
They were nearly ready. Every day, he checked on them, streaming in through the windows at dusk to hover in the corner near Cordelia’s desk, observing her activity. Even in his incorporeal state, he could smell the scent of her arousal, thick around her. Often, as if she could sense his presence, her eyes met Angelus’s and they left, despair and need coming off them in waves. Every time, it got worse. Every time, the ache in Angelus’s eyes grew thicker, his torture more prominent. He loved her, and it was killing him to be with her like this.
Every night, Sebastian followed Cordelia home, having found a way to keep her ghost from attacking him. One brief Gypsy incantation had made him impervious to the over-protective ghost’s actions. Dennis had howled furiously at this, but Sebastian had only smiled in triumph.
Sebastian would meet Cordelia in her living room, his essence brushing the back of her neck and sending shivers up and down her spine. He would watch lasciviously as she bathed, stroking the rough loofah over her soft skin. He would admire her sleek curves as she readied for bed and climbed beneath the covers. He would bask in the glow of her beauty as her eyes fluttered shut, her breathing evening out as she fell into the deepest of sleeps.
Only then would he allow himself to touch her. The particles of his essence would swirl, rearranging themselves into his corporeal form, and he would walk to her bedside, gazing down at her. Another whispered incantation would put her under his thrall, her eyes opening, her mind telling her she was dreaming. He would run his fingers lightly down her arm, then all across her body, teasing her into readiness. Only when she was panting, her body tingling and aching, would he dissolve and remove the thrall, leaving her to her unrequited desire.
Every night, he dutifully resisted the urge to complete his claim, knowing that revenge would be the sweetest when she was at her most vulnerable, Angelus at his most desperate.
He smiled in undisguised glee. Yes, they were nearly ready. Soon, very soon, he would make his move.
Part 10
