Part 12
Acknowledging your inevitable destiny is like finding shelter in the middle of a blizzard. You’ve been trekking through the blinding white of life, sludging through the problems that you’ve created around yourself, not knowing which way to the warm haven of safety. And in this barren landscape of your inner self, this blizzard isn’t made harmless by your lack of body temperature. You can’t adjust the mental thermostat to compensate like you can the physical. This blizzard of the mind bites and stings as if you were a warm-blooded, breathing, teeth-chattering human being.
You’re mostly geared up for the cold, having erected walls around your heart and in your mind that stand up to the fiercest of winds and the deepest, bone-chilling cold. But even the warmest, snuggest coat of self-preservation is useless against the wearing of time. Your nose has become icy cold as the words of others remind you of your bad choices. Your feet are numb in your thick boots as you stumble, the woolen socks no longer able to keep out the freezing temperature or protect you from the sharp edges of the rocks in your path. Rocks that you threw there yourself, in the midst of making ill-fated alliances and crushing the bond between yourself and friends that would have eased your difficult trek.
You know that you must eventually find shelter, that you must own up to the future that you’re trying so hard to avoid, that you think you’ll never be worthy of. You know that the warm, cheery fire of her love is waiting there for you. That she’s splayed out on the rug before the hearth, waiting to envelop you in her heat and give you the bliss you’ve always dreamed of. You know that in her embrace, you’ll find the happiness that has eluded you for centuries.
But still, you plod on, not seeing the glowing light through the blinding, swirling snow. Your pride has dulled your vision. Your sense of unworthiness has kept your head down, facing the snowy path instead of searching for the guiding light. One thing keeps your eyes fixed on the ice instead of the warm light: her anger. Her pain. She’s seen your denial, felt your rejection of the lifeline she provides you, and it hurts her. Her fear and the soreness of her abused heart have made her strike out, have put a rickety fence between you and the haven you seek. You fear that you won’t be able to scale the barrier, and that fear keeps you out in the cold, away from her.
As you walk along, though, the squeak of the snow beneath your feet, you begin to realize that she’ll take you back, even as she shouts at you to leave and never come back. And that knowledge is ultimately what breaks you, what brings your chin up, what straightens your shoulders and turns your feet in the direction of the flickering light in the distance. It’s what gives you the strength to put your shaky hands on the doorknob and turn it, stumbling into the warm haven of her love and shaking the snow of your folly off onto the floor to melt into nothingness.
In her arms, you’ll find the shelter from the storm. In her presence, you’ll find the home you’ve been denied, the acceptance you’ve craved, and the love-filled bliss that will protect you from the bitterest blizzards that are sure to appear in your future.
***
Angel stood in front of the door of the Hyperion, gearing himself up to enter. He’d gotten halfway back to his apartment when he realized he was making the biggest mistake of his life. He’d given himself a serious pep talk about how he was going to make Cordelia listen to him, make her understand how much he loved her and how sorry he was for being such a cold-hearted prick. But he’d just kept walking toward his home, lost in thought. It took having to pause to cross the street to get him to wake up and realize he should be doing this now. He should be walking back to the Hyperion and talking to her this instant, not waiting for the ‘right time.’ He’d already squandered so much time; he didn’t want to waste any more.
But now that he was in front of the double doors leading into the lobby, hiding in the shadows, he was scared. It galled him; he was two and a half centuries old. He should have nerves of steel. But everything about Cordelia was sacred. Everything about the love they’d shared was too precious to risk. Angel was scared to the marrow of his bones that she’d really meant it when she told him to go away and never come back.
He clung to the hope, though. He’d seen flashes of pain in her eyes, pain that wouldn’t be there if she was indifferent. He’d seen longing in those beautiful hazel depths, longing that wouldn’t be there if she weren’t still in love with him. And he’d seen nothing but friendship in her eyes when she looked at Spike, despite their physical closeness. Once he’d taken off the blinders jealousy had given him, he saw that he had nothing to fear from her relationship with his grandchilde.
Gathering up every reserve of confidence he had, Angel took a calming breath and strode through the doors. The lobby was empty; silent. He knew that Spike was in the building; he sensed the familial bond, but knew that the younger vampire was somewhere away, probably upstairs. Cordelia was harder to detect. He listened for a moment, as still as stone, and zeroed in on the tiny sounds that a human wouldn’t notice. The hum of the refrigerator from the nearby kitchen. The air conditioner as it clicked on. And finally, after he’d listened long enough, the sound of a fist meeting leather and the panting breaths that followed.
A slow smile spread across his face as he walked over to the door to the basement and descended the stairs noiselessly. She was exercising, working out her frustrations on a punching bag that he’d abandoned there. He couldn’t count the number of times he’d come down here after a vivid dream about her, needing some way to release his tension and frustration. It was comforting to realize that she had the same needs.
Silently, he moved behind her, watching as she punched the bag with rapid precision. Her skills at combat had improved so much since he’d first met her. Way back when they’d first hooked up in L.A., she hadn’t been able to do much more than shoot holy water from a water gun. Now she could take on a vamp on her own and reduce it to dust with almost no effort. Pride coursed through him as he watched her, graceful in all of her movements.
Suddenly not able to help himself, he spoke. “I love you, Cordelia.”
His voice was soft, but the deep sound echoed in the small, enclosed space.
For a moment, the only indication that she’d heard him was the fact that she froze mid-punch. She swayed a bit on her feet, holding her breath. Then she spun around and socked him hard in the upper chest.
“What do you think you’re doing, Angel?” she whispered angrily, tears glistening in her eyes as she looked up at him. “I told you to get the hell out of my life.”
“But you didn’t mean it,” he countered, suddenly scared that she might have.
Cordelia just stared at him, her lips tightly pressed together as if she were holding everything back.
“I love you, Cordelia.” Just as it had the first time, the pledge ricocheted in the room, seeming to magnify with each reverberation.
The words broke the dam of her emotions. Tears spilled over from her eyes, coursing down her cheeks. She just stood in front of him, crying. He froze for a moment, then reached for her. Cordelia would have none of it.
“No!” she sobbed, pushing him away, then began punching him as hard as she could in his upper chest and arms. Her hits were little more than beestings to him, but he held still and took every one, knowing she needed the release, knowing he deserved that and so much more. With each punch, her sobbing increased, the hits becoming weaker and slower, until finally she didn’t resist when he pulled her into his arms.
“I love you, Cordy,” he vowed again, this time his words whispered into her hair as he grasped her tightly.
After a few moments, her crying stopped enough so that she caught her breath and was able to speak. Her voice was surprisingly strong. Pulling back, she didn’t loosen her grip on him at all, but her eyes were wary. “What are you talking about, Angel? You don’t love me. You left me. You abandoned me. How can you say that you love me?”
Her accusations nearly broke him. It was everything he’d been beating himself up about, everything he’d denied that he’d done, and the guilt was overwhelming. He knew he’d failed her. He knew he didn’t deserve her, but god, he needed her.
“I’ve been in love with you for so long now, Cordy, practically since Doyle died. I didn’t realize it until the ballet, but then Groo came back and you left with him. And then Connor came and I got distracted. When we tried to meet and you disappeared, the next time I saw you, you weren’t you anymore.”
He paused again, breaking their gaze because the memories were too painful. “So much happened when Jasmine had control of your body. I felt used, betrayed, and abandoned. The entire time that I thought it was you, really you, the love I had for you was torn in so many pieces that I thought it couldn’t ever be put back together. But then when I realized it wasn’t you, when I realized that you weren’t in control of your body, I was so confused.”
He stopped again, and Cordelia felt the pressure to say something. “I can’t apologize for it, Angel. I can’t apologize for what I don’t remember, what I didn’t do, even if it was my body.”
He released the grip of one hand and brought it up to stroke her cheek, his eyes once again locked with hers. “I know, Cordy. And I don’t expect you to. But when you woke from your coma and I saw you again, all of those confusing feelings came flooding back. And at my apartment that night you came back, when you yelled at me for taking over Wolfram & Hart, when you took everything I’d sacrificed for us and flung it back in my face, I felt betrayed all over again. So I crept back into myself and clung to the familiar, went to Buffy when she was the last person I needed.”
The moment Angel had mentioned Wolfram & Hart and Cordelia’s initial reaction to his agreement with them, she’d broken her eye contact and looked away guiltily. She almost didn’t hear him talk about Buffy. Almost.
“I know now why you did what you did, Angel. Why you made the deal with Wolfram & Hart.” She still wouldn’t look at him.
“You do?” he asked, his tone cautious. “Why do you think I did it?”
“Well, partly because of me, because they said they could save me.” Finally, she raised her gaze back to his. “And because you wanted to save Connor.”
If he could’ve gasped, he would’ve. “You remember him?” his voice broke on the words, the pain of the loss of his son coming back as fresh as it was the day it happened.
She nodded. “I knew there was something wrong the first day when I went to Wesley. I asked him about Connor, and he didn’t know what I was talking about. He had no clue who Connor was, and there were some other fuzzy memory problems with him, too. He said you were angry at the Jasmine me because I slept with someone else and you felt betrayed. I couldn’t figure out what would make you angry enough to reject me completely. I went through everyone we knew and tried to figure out the one person I could have sex with that would break you like that, and even though it sickened me, the only person I could think of was Connor.”
If she’d ever had any doubt that her possessed self had seduced Angel’s son, those doubts were washed away by the hauntingly painful look in the vampire’s eyes. He searched her face, looking for any trace of remembrance, any trace of the Cordelia that had hurt him so much, and to his relief, could find none of the cold, calculating woman in her eyes.
“You did, I mean, she did. Sleep with Connor. And I saw it,” his voice was a hoarse whisper, his eyes filling with tears at the excruciating memory.
Hot tears filled Cordelia’s eyes at his admission, unable to imagine what pain that must’ve caused him. Suddenly an apology seemed appropriate, even if it wasn’t for her evil twin’s behavior. “I’m sorry, Angel. I’m so sorry that you had to go through that. I never, NEVER, would have allowed that to happen if I’d had any way to control the situation.”
Finally, he seemed to come back to himself and looked at her with clear, less-angry eyes. “I know, Cordy. I know you didn’t do it, but it still helps to have you apologize.”
“This whole thing is kinda creepy if you ask me,” she said, trying to smile and lighten the mood.
“Creepy doesn’t even begin to describe it,” he answered, tightening his hold on her. “So you knew I did it for both you and Connor?” he asked, wanting to get her entire explanation.
“Yeah. I knew when Wesley didn’t remember him that you’d probably done the deal with the evil law firm so that Connor’s memory would be erased and he could have a happy life with the family he’d always wanted. So he could forget that his parents had been vampires and he’d been raised in a hell dimension. He was so unhappy the way I remember him, and I can just imagine that it got a million times worse.”
He nodded, the pain in his heart turning to a dull, familiar ache. “He’s happy. I check on him every once in awhile.”
“Angel–,” Cordelia said, then stopped. She broke their eye contact, biting her lip as she tried to find a way to tell him how Wolfram & Hart had screwed him over.
“What, Cordy?” he said softly, his fingers raising her chin and her eyes back to his.
“I was in a coma for a lot longer than I should’ve been,” she said, her expression trying to make him understand.
He didn’t comprehend her cryptic statement, but just grasped her tighter, his hands rubbing her back reassuringly. “I know, baby, but you’re safe now, and that’s all that matters.”
“No, Angel. You don’t get it. They kept me in a coma at Wolfram & Hart. Somebody forgot to change the IV bag and I woke up. I heard them talking about how the senior partners wanted to keep me out of the loop, wanted to keep you bound to them. They said I would’ve been awake and okay only a week or so after you signed the papers, if they hadn’t kept me sedated.”
Angel’s face darkened significantly and his eyes flashed gold. “Somebody is going to die for this,” he vowed, the thought of being manipulated by this elusive enemy getting the better of him.
Cordelia squeezed his arm. “Don’t go all Rambo Vamp on me, Angel. We still have to worry about Connor and his well-being. If you cross them, you could be putting him in danger.”
He growled in frustration. “I hate this. I hate how they always have the upper hand, no matter what I do.”
“We’ll figure out a way, Angel,” she said softly, bringing a hand up to stroke his jaw in a soothing gesture. “It took awhile, but we managed to find a way out from under their control, right?”
He nodded.
After a moment of reflective silence, she asked the one thing she’d worried about since he’d said those few words that meant the world to her.
“What about Buffy, Angel?” she asked, nearly kicking herself as she wanted to bite back the words and just shove that painful subject under the carpet.
Angel took her chin and brought her gaze back to his. The certainty in his eyes left no room for doubt. “I care about Buffy; I suppose I always will. But she isn’t the one for me. You are. She and I are too much alike. We make life miserable for each other, and we aren’t meant to be. Nothing happened between us, nothing more than kissing, anyway.”
She was satisfied by that, the jealousy there but manageable.
“Did you mean what you said, Angel?” she asked, worry making her bite her lip and look at him through shuttered, nervous eyes.
“That I love you?” he clarified.
“Yeah,” she said, looking away.
“Yes, Cordelia, I do. I didn’t realize it until I’d lost you, but you are the other half of my soul. You bring so much to my life, keep me from the darkness like no one I’ve ever met. You keep me true to my mission, keep me on track and out of trouble. And when I didn’t have you, my life fell apart.”
“Mine did, too,” she said softly, remembering the misery of the past few weeks without him.
He continued, his gaze becoming intense again as his deep brown eyes bored into hers, his soul reflected in their depths. “You told me awhile back that I needed to take a good look at myself, because I wasn’t the man I used to be. That I wasn’t the man you’d loved and respected. It took me awhile, but I finally did as you asked, and I didn’t like what I saw. I took the sacrifices I’d made, the surrender to Wolfram & Hart, and made that my reason for living. But there was no hope there. I suddenly had nothing worth living for, and it wasn’t until you came back that I saw how far I’d let myself go.”
He brought both hands from around her waist and cupped her jaw, his thumbs stroking her chin and bottom lip, his fingers memorizing the precious lines of her face.
“I was so wrong, Cordelia. I became the person I’d always loathed, a shell of the person I’d tried so hard to make. You, your friendship, made me into someone worthy, and I ruined it, even with all of my good intentions. Not only that, when you came back, instead of grasping at the one good thing I had left, I tossed you aside because you reminded me of what a failure I’d become.”
“You aren’t a failure, Angel,” Cordelia tried to reassure him, but he placed two fingers over her mouth, stilling her before she could elaborate.
“I’m not anymore, and I won’t be, if you’ll take me back. I love you with everything that I am and I’m sorry, so sorry for what I’ve put you through.”
More than anything, more than even his declaration of love, his apology meant so much to her.
Her tears welled up once again, the hot drops spilling over and making tracks through her emotion-filled smile. “I love you so much, Angel. I can’t believe you came back to me.”
“I’ll never leave you again, Cordy. I promise.”
She took that opportunity to sock him again, this time, playfully. “You’d better not, dumbass. I’ve put up with a lot of crap from you and its about time that you try to make it up to me.”
He smiled with relief at her easy forgiveness and his eyes began to twinkle with barley concealed mischief. “I think I can figure out some way to make it up to you.”
“Yeah?” she said softly, running her hands over his chest and shoulders, then up to intertwine behind his neck. She pressed her body up against his, sighing as she felt them align and fit as if they were always meant to be that way.
He didn’t answer her, just lowered his head and claimed her mouth with his. The kiss began slowly, a mere brush of their lips against each other. His demon pushed at his conscience, demanding that he take over and take her back with the brutal passion that threatened to consume him. His demon and his soul both recognized their mates in this enigmatic woman, and he reacted with a level of intensity that made any other attraction in his long life seem like puppy love.
Despite his demon’s impatience, Angel held back the more forceful part of his psyche, not wanting to be cheated out of such a powerful moment. He wanted this bliss, this happiness, to last for eternity. Again and again he brushed his lips across hers, the feather-lightest of touches, her breath teasing him as the speed of it increased. She’d opened her mouth slightly, pressing her body in closer to his, an obvious invitation for him to deepen the contact. But still, he teased her with his mouth, not increasing the pressure of his mouth to hers.
Finally, after what seemed like an eternity to Cordelia, Angel’s tongue darted out and stroked her bottom lip, tasting her sweetness. In that same, agonizingly slow way, he explored the hot depths of her mouth, learning every crevasse, every succulent corner, every hard edge of her teeth. Trying to get him to hurry, Cordelia attempted to thrust her tongue into his mouth, but he wouldn’t let her pass. She groaned against him, sliding one of her bare feet up against his calf and rubbing him as his tongue and mouth made her body throb in pleasure. Slowly but surely, the intensity of the kiss built until Angel pulled away, Cordelia gasping for breath as she leaned her forehead down onto his shoulder.
After she regained her breath, she raised heated eyes to his and slid her body against his, the friction making them both gasp. “Please, Angel. Take me upstairs and make love to me. I’ve wanted you for so long, and I need you so much.”
His answer was a kiss that scorched her, its intensity so fierce that she was consumed by it. His hands ran all over her body, stroking and teasing, barely touching her but still branding her with every caress. Pulling back again, he cupped her butt in his big hands, pulling her up until she straddled his waist, her legs wrapping around him and her ankles locking behind his back. He nearly groaned as his hard arousal rubbed up against her heat with a mere two layers of clothing between them, but he gritted his teeth and tried to concentrate as he navigated the stairs up to the lobby.
Cordelia was no help at all.
The moment he began to ascend the stairs, she buried her mouth in the crook of his neck and began to tease him with her hot tongue, licking and nipping at the sensitive skin there. She sucked at the point where his pulse would have been, knowing that if she’d been a vampire as his mate, that’s where she’d fix her teeth and claim him as hers. As it were, her blunt teeth scraped him and he hissed, growing harder and pressing against her core.
He got all the way across the lobby before it came too much, and he backed her against one of the pillars, dragging her head away from his neck and kissing her senseless. This time, he allowed her to be an equal partner in the kiss, and he was lit on fire by her obvious enthusiasm. Her tongue met his thrust for thrust, and she rubbed against him rhythmically, his arousal brushing up against her clit with each beat, the clothing adding an extra friction that made her gasp.
Forcefully but not violently, he grabbed her calves and pried her legs from around his waist, separating them. It was as difficult as peeling the skin from a grape; she didn’t want to let go for anything. She frowned at him when he finally got free and tried to draw him back, but he didn’t allow it.
“I want to get up stairs, Cordy, not take you here on the lobby floor.”
“Why not?” she said, frowning at him in a lust-glazed way that made him want to forget where they were and just bury himself inside of her until they were both screaming from the pleasure of it.
“Huh?” he said, forgetting what he’d said as the power of his need overtook him.
“Why can’t we do it here on the lobby floor? I’ve had a couple of fantasies about that, haven’t you?”
This time, he stepped away from her, not touching her at all. “Yeah,” he said, his eyes black with want. “I have. But I want to be up in your bed this time. The last thing I want is for Buffy or Spike to interrupt us. I want all night with you, Cordy. And in a soft bed, not on a hard floor.”
“Fine,” she pouted, crossing her arms and staring at him. “What are you doing way over there, anyway?”
“Go upstairs, Cordy,” he said, ignoring her question. “I’ll follow you.”
“Why don’t you carry me?” she suggested, a wicked smile lighting her face as she placed one hand on her hip and struck a sultry pose.
“Because we wouldn’t make it upstairs if I did. Now, go,” he ordered, and was relieved when she did.
His relief was short lived as she turned her back on him and began to saunter up the stairs. His heart seemed to pump in his dead chest as he watched her reach her hands to the hem of her top and drag it up over her head as she walked. Without looking back, she tossed it back at him, and he caught it with his mouth open. Never missing a step, she stripped on the way up the stairs. As her pink bra found its way back to him, Angel hoped through the lust-laden fog of his mind that Spike was far, far away.
The rest of her clothing was shed before she reached the top of the stairs, her skirt and panties just sliding off her legs as she walked, just stepping out of them. He bent to pick them up, nearly tripping as his view angle changed and he got an enticing glimpse of the glistening between her thighs as she stepped on the last stair before the second floor. Within minutes, she was inside his old room, her room now, and he followed her blindly into the darkness, like a moth drawn to a flame.
She glided over to the bedside, turning on the lamp and bathing the room in a golden glow. Without turning to face him, she crawled up onto the bed, her backside swaying hypnotically in his direction, then settled herself back on her elbows, her chest thrust out, her knees slightly bent, her legs mere inches apart, hiding her secrets from him. She was spread out in the pose of a seductress, her blatant, confident sexuality drawing him in. Now that she knew he wanted her, wanted no one but her, she was surrendering completely to him, the sureness of their love giving her strength and boldness that fueled the fiery passion already burning within both of them.
Angel dropped the load of clothing he’d gathered on the way upstairs, coming to stand directly in front of her, his eyes scanning her hungrily. He took in the gentle rise and fall of her breasts, noting how they were already hardened with desire. He drank in the sight of her well-kissed lips, her passion-darkened eyes, and felt the love for her nearly consume him.
Her voice brought him out of his concentration.
“One of us has entirely too much clothing on,” she said with a smirk, raising an eyebrow at him.
“I think I can fix that,” he said, his fingers curling around the hem of his shirt and pulling it over his head.
Cordelia had to work to keep her breathing even as his beautiful body was exposed to her. The muscles in his stomach rippled as he took off his shirt, his sculpted body more beautiful than anything she’d ever seen. His skin was pale but not sickly looking; in fact, it seemed to glow with a cool fire that was unique to him and very enticing. Her fingers itched to stroke him, to explore the body that she had admired for so long but to which she had been denied access. Her gaze traveled downward as his hands moved to his fly. He made quick work of the closure, his pants and boxers removed with a swiftness that left her breathless. As every inch of him was bared to her view, her heartbeat quickened, her breath caught as she saw his hard beauty in its entirety. He was gorgeous, and he was hers.
Angel waited impatiently as she perused his body as he had done with her. Finally, she dragged her gaze away from his lower half and her hot eyes met his. Not trusting her voice to speak, she shifted her weight to one elbow and raised her other arm, reaching her hand out to him. He took the offering, curling his strong, cool fingers around hers, kneeling on the bed in front of her before finally stretching out and pressing his body fully against her. They both sighed with the wonder of that contact, realizing how perfect it felt and knowing that they’d both been fools for denying themselves this bliss for so long.
The look that passed between them said it all. The love, the forgiveness, the passion overwhelmed them both, and they responded in the only way they knew how, the only way that was worthy of the love they shared. His mouth fused with hers again, a perfect blend of sweetness and violence, teeth nipping and tongues dueling. Growls of pleasure pulsed from his chest, the vibration soothing the worst of the ache in her breasts. He lifted himself off of her after a moment and she arched her back to follow him, but he wormed his hand between them anyway, searching for places that would heighten her pleasure. He found them, nearly all of them, skimming the sensitive area of her underarms, squeezing and rolling her nipples between his fingers, circling her navel and exploring its delicate depth.
Finally, his hand found the sensitive, swollen folds of her core, and his fingers were magic, making her mewl with the pleasure of his touch. Her hands clenched at his back, her fingernails scoring his shoulders, her mouth sucking at his neck as he brought her to the brink of ecstasy. His thumb and forefinger pinched at just the right place, making her arch off the bed and moan as the white-hot heat of arousal coursed all the way to her toes. Just as she was about to find release he stopped, and she panted as clarity began to return.
He poised over her, the tip of him just caressing her intimately, and stared down into her eyes. He curled his fingers into hers, gripping their hands together, his chest rasping against hers.
Reverently kissing her, he intended to declare his love before he plunged inside of her, making her his own once and for all. She beat him to it.
“I love you, Angel,” she whispered feverishly, suddenly twitching her hips and forcing him to enter her part way.
He jerked and moaned at the wet heat partially enveloping him, his eyes flashing gold as he stared down at her, his mouth open. “God, Cordelia, I love you,” he panted, then sheathed himself to the hilt.
They paused there, joined completely, fully, and time seemed to stand still as they were fused into one being, one soul, one person, just as it was intended from the beginning of time. And then, just as countless lovers before them, and yet in their own, special way, they began the rhythm that would lead them toward fulfillment. With each stroke, the friction sent bolts of pleasure throughout their bodies, the pace and intensity increasing until they exploded, her scream of pleasure mingling with his groan, echoing off the walls as she shuddered around him and he spilled himself inside of her.
Exhausted, Angel rolled onto his side and pulled Cordelia into the curve of his body, wrapping his arms around her and never wanting to let go. The rightness of this, the strength of their love, surrounded them like a warm blanket, lulling them into the security of sleep and dreams of a future full of promise.
In surrendering to each other, they’d found the freedom that had eluded them for so long. In each other’s arms, the bliss they’d been craving had been waiting to be snatched up. And in finding it, they felt whole. Fulfilled. Finally.