Part 9
Wesley was encouraged: the information they’d gathered from the guard was extremely useful. The mystical force was actually only a 20 meter-wide ring around the compound, and once through that 20 meters, strength returned. The only problem was that the power drain was so debilitating that no one with supernatural abilities would make it that far without collapsing. There was one vulnerability: the ring was powered by shamans who chanted around the clock in a small, virtually unprotected compound to the south of the mansion itself.
Riley asked the guard what defenses the compound had against human attackers. The guard looked perplexed by the question; they’d never had any humans who were angry enough to attack them. Traitor demons were the only ones that his boss targeted, so humans weren’t a problem.
Wesley’s thoughts returned to the interrogation winding down before him.
“What can you tell us about your boss?” Angel asked the now malleable guard.
“I don’t know very much,” he answered, his honesty obvious on his face.
“What do you know?” Wesley encouraged.
“Well, he drives this old car he treats like a baby,” the guard said thoughtfully. “It’s a beaut: leather interior, burled walnut dashboard, the works. He’s got this weird blue color paint job. In the dark it looks completely black. Anyway, one of my buddies accidentally brushed his clipboard against the door when the big boss drove through the checkpoint. He nearly blew a gasket, he was so angry.”
“Is it a Corvette?” Angel asked through clenched teeth.
“Yep,” the guard said, surprised that Angel would have guessed accurately. “Late 60’s, I think.”
“That little—,” Angel hissed. He slammed his hand through the drywall nearest his fist.
Kenny was going to pay.
***
Cordelia winced as Xander placed a cool, wet cloth against her forehead. What she wouldn’t give for her painkillers right now.
“Cordelia, I had—,” he stopped, frowned, and started again. “You’re visions are so painful,” he stated obviously.
“Congratulations! You’ve won the magnificent toaster oven with matching ruffled cover,” Cordelia said dryly, her eyes closed as she tried to regulate the throbbing in her temples.
“No kidding, Xander. Was it the screaming or the twitching that tipped you off?”
“It’s not that, it’s just—,” Xander paused again, looking for the right words. “Okay, we knew you were working for Angel and that you got visions. It’s just hard to believe that you, Queen C, are in pain to help people.” She opened her eyes and frowned at him. His face implored her to understand and her eyes softened.
“I’m different, Xander,” she said quietly. “Working with Angel has been a life-changing experience for me. I have a purpose now. I’ve never had that before.”
The fact that she even told him that much was evidence to him that she had indeed changed. He said, “I’m starting to see that.”
They smiled at each other, his accepting, hers laced with pain and renewed friendship.
Xander raised an eyebrow, his expression boyishly reminiscent of their high school days. “So amidst all that screaming and twitching, did you see anything that can help us get out of this loony bin?”
“Oh, boy, did I,” she said, a genuine, Cordy-sized grin on her face.
***
“All I’m saying is that it probably won’t affect me. They only want to keep out demons and I’m not one. I think it’s worth a try, that’s all,” Buffy raised her hands in a calming gesture, backing up slightly as she spoke. Angel’s look was one Angelus would’ve been proud of and, truth be told, it scared her a little.
Angel kept his voice low as he answered. “This is not a discussion, Buffy. I’m going. You can come if you want to or not; I don’t really care one way or the other.”
Buffy looked hurt. “You don’t want my help?”
Angel said, exasperated, “Buffy, this isn’t about you.”
Her expression was still closed, obviously not wanting to accept his plans. Angel felt like throttling her. He didn’t have time for this; Cordelia was trapped and he didn’t want to wait around to smooth the wrinkles out of his ex-girlfriend’s ego.
“Look, Buffy. Cordelia is my best friend and I love her. I can’t sit here and wait for someone else to rescue her anymore than you could sit around and wait for someone else to save Xander.”
“You love her?” Buffy’s voice came out in a whisper. Her mind had shut down after Angel’s unintentional admission. It didn’t matter that she’d brought Riley with her; most of her heart was still tattooed with love for Angel.
If he’d had one, Angel’s heart would’ve sped up as he realized what he’d just said. Did he love Cordelia? He had to confess he didn’t know yet. He was certainly attracted to her. Every time he thought of her lately his body tightened uncomfortably. She’d given up so much for him and his mission, endured so much pain and suffering. In typical Cordelia Chase style, she had jack hammered her way in, cheerful, tactless and loving, and touched his soul in a way that no one else ever had before. But was he in love with her? Cordelia Chase, his seer and his best friend?
“Yeah, Buffy, I think I might,” Angel admitted. His bared soul shone through his eyes as he looked at her, and Buffy was heartbroken to realize that she’d really lost him.
Across the room, the rest of the apartment’s occupants crowded around Cordelia’s dining room table. They were poring over a crude map of the compound that their hostage had drawn, attempting to draft a plan of attack. Riley kept glancing over at Angel and Buffy’s low conversation, trying to be surreptitious, but everyone was well aware of his discomfort. It didn’t help that they kept having to repeat things because he wasn’t paying attention.
“So I’m going to disable the shamans, and Buffy and Angel are going to what?” Riley tried to enter the conversation again.
Giles looked frustrated. “We all need to hear this. Wesley and I have drafted a very workable plan and its important that everyone knows what they’re doing.” He glared at Riley, daring him to drift off again.
Buffy and Angel returned to the group. Buffy slid up beside Riley, grasping his wrist and drawing his arm around her shoulders. She needed his comfort right now.
Relief surged through Riley as his fears of losing her to Angel were alleviated. His competition didn’t exactly look happy. But then again, Angel never did.
Giles looked around the table, making certain that he had everyone’s attention before he began explaining.
“So this is the plan. . .”
Part 10
“So you’ve seen a way to get us out of here?” Xander asked Cordelia excitedly.
“Well, kind of,” Cordelia answered, scrunching her face up in thought. “It was more of a premonition. Sometime in the near future, one of Kenny’s henchmen is going to come and get us.”
“Well, that should be party central,” Xander grimaced, not liking this train of thought.
“Pay attention, Xander, Geez,” Cordelia said, annoyed. “As I was saying, he’s going to come and take us downstairs. In my vision, I saw a way to escape him. He’ll be distracted when we get to the landing on the stairs, and we can push him over the railing.”
“Won’t somebody, I don’t know, notice some ugly demon flying over the edge of a staircase?” Xander asked.
“I don’t know,” Cordelia said, disgusted at him for pointing out the holes in her vision. “I didn’t see that far ahead. The Powers are never very clear about these things. They just send me part of it and we take care of the rest.”
“Well, I don’t have to like it,” Xander griped.
“Welcome to a day in the life of Angel Investigations,” Cordelia commiserated. “We always fight blind, but at least we usually win.”
3.57 a.m.
Angel was at a level of unhappiness that was lower than his normal broodiness. Giles had explained their plan, and it was a good one, but that didn’t change the fact that he had to sit and wait around. Angel knew that the night was more than half over—he could feel the sunrise approaching—but he didn’t want to admit that they’d have to wait more than half a day to get Cordelia out of there. He blamed everyone for their delay, including himself, but blame wasn’t going to speed up or turn back the clock. All he could do was lay there, in the dark, surrounded by Cordelia’s scent but feeling farther away from her than he’d ever felt before.
He’d commandeered her bed before anyone could suggest otherwise. The Scoobies had set up camp out in the living room; Wesley had scrounged up some blankets and pillows from Cordelia’s closets. He’d taken Anya and Giles home with him; there was no sense in everyone sleeping on the floor if it wasn’t necessary.
Willow had claimed the couch, and Riley and Buffy were snuggled up on the living room floor, whispering. It occurred to Angel that he didn’t care in the slightest who Buffy was sleeping or not sleeping with. He was over that; Cordelia was all that mattered now.
Her scent drifted from the sheets and pillows, a mixture of clean-smelling bath products and her own earthy aroma, filling his nostrils and bringing a comfort that no other fragrance could.
It was a double-edged sword, though: breathing in Cordelia’s scent without her present, especially knowing her current whereabouts, was a kind of agony he’d never experienced before. It was like water torture; a slow and steady drip—drip—drip—drip—drip that kept him awake and painfully aware of his powerlessness.
The next 15 hours were going to be some of the most difficult in his unnaturally long life.
***
A feather-light touch drifted down Cordelia’s arm, causing her to twitch briefly in her sleep. She stilled as the sensation stopped in the palm of her hand and stayed there, swirling on her lifeline. Instinctively, she closed her fingers around the source of the contact, grasping strong, cool fingers. She returned the loving touch, stroking the thumb gently from the base to the tip, pausing to interlock their fingers.
Her eyes remained closed as she basked in the warmth of pure sensation.
Angel’s eyes were heavy-lidded as he looked down at the woman he loved, reveling in the millions of tiny sparks shooting throughout his body at her touch. There was a nagging thought at the back of his mind that it was a life and death imperative that he stop, enjoy the closeness, and leave it at that. But his entire body was humming with the anticipation of touching her at last, and he couldn’t imagine a situation where he would willingly stop this sensual journey they’d begun together.
Pushing all doubts away, Angel slowly lowered his head to the long column of her throat and kissed the hollow above her collarbone gently. Cordelia stirred, ignited by the enticing new contact, and maneuvered her mouth in line with his.
Angel took the gift she offered, lightly grazing her lips with his, tasting the sweet heat there. He repeated the contact again and again, never increasing the pressure or the speed of his gentle assault. Frustrated, Cordelia’s tongue ventured out, licking his full bottom lip, pulling it into her mouth and sucking gently.
A deep rumble sounded from Angel’s chest as Cordelia’s forwardness fueled him. His hands left their neutral position, searching for a more advantageous location; fingers inching up her waist as their tongues entertwined, lazily searching for her breast. Finding it, his hand cupped gently, his thumb brushing the tip and sending hot-cold lightning through her, melting her from the inside out.
Their mouths separated and Cordelia finally opened her eyes, breathing heavily in the stillness, turning her gaze to this man who’d lit her on fire. The heat in his eyes was intense, consuming her with the level of his passion. Overwhelmed, Cordelia did the only thing she could do: she returned it with equal fervor.
Her hands roamed his body, his hands explored hers. Clothing disappeared, beautiful skin revealed, inch by tantalizing inch given attention and loving care. Angel’s hands seemed to be everywhere, stroking sensitive places that Cordelia never knew existed, but he ignored the one location that was throbbing agonizingly in anticipation.
In retaliation for his slowness, Cordelia’s hands ventured downward, stroking and grasping in ways that made Angel gasp for breath he didn’t know he needed. Finally, he reached for the place she’d been begging for. Their gentle battle continued as each vied for control of the situation.
In the end they both got what they wanted.
Her hand stroked him, the pace growing faster as he returned the rhythm on her flesh, a rhythm that was only made stronger by the quantity of emotions that passed between them. The pressure was building, and their eyes slid shut nearly simultaneously as the feelings became almost too intense to bear.
They stopped, hands hovering, pressure at its peak, and fell over the edge together with one last, feather-light stroke, spiraling downward in a waterfall of shared bliss.
***
Cordelia shot up in bed, heart racing, breathing heavy and uneven. The dream she’d just had was the most erotic, fulfilling thing she’d ever experienced. Her whole body throbbed with the pleasure she’d just felt, a pounding that seemed to echo in the silence of her prison.
She glanced nervously over at Xander, terrified for a moment that she’d acted out her dream-fantasy of Angel on her old friend. Her fears were alleviated as she watched his even breathing and saw that he was completely covered, asleep three feet away from her in the massive bed.
Once her heart regained its normal pace, Cordelia reflected on the experience in a more unbiased way. There was something about this dream that wasn’t right, something that wasn’t normal for her. Well, besides the dream-induced orgasm.
A small “Oh,” escaped her lips, breaking the silence as she realized what was wrong.
Cordelia hadn’t just dreamed about Angel, She’d shared this dream with Angel. His presence had been too strong for mere dreams.
***
Angel stood outside of Cordelia’s apartment in the darkest part of the night, just before dawn. He’d had to get away; the intensity was too overwhelming.
He’d awoken from one of the most erotic dreams he’d ever had, gasping as if he were alive, sweat covering his body in a fine sheen. It had felt so good. . .and so damn real. Even now, several minutes later, he swore he could still taste her, feel her hands insistent on his body, hear her gentle moans of pleasure.
The thing that shook him the most was the knowledge that she was there, really there, too. This was no dream; it was something infinitely more powerful.
His desperation multiplied exponentially, clawing at him, tearing him in two.
He had to get her back. It was a matter of life and death.
Part 11