Part 6
Cordelia glanced at the clock…again. If she was going to be at Caritas by eight, she’d have to leave soon. The problem with that scenario, she was still in her pajamas, in bed and it was seven o’clock.
Hands rubbing hard over tired eyes, she released a loud huff hoping to blow the weary tension from her body. Nope, didn’t help, and if the muscles in her neck didn’t relax soon they would likely meld into one big clump. Maybe she’d been wrong; overzealous paranoia working overtime. Maybe Angel had actually told the truth and wasn’t outside her bedroom window last night.
Moot point, Cordelia reasoned. The threat of Angel showing up had given her an excuse to send Matthew on his way. Better than telling the man there were times she couldn’t stand the sight of him or that the slightest brush made her skin crawl. Besides, she reasoned again, if the wayward vampire had been crouched on her balcony; what would she have done?
***
Angel eased the shirt onto his back, cringing when the fabric rubbed across the burned flesh yet to heal. A scorch by sunlight was always slower to heal, and the pig’s blood he was downing did not contain the medicinal boost of his first choice. The problem, his first choice also tended to induce behavior changes and with meeting Cordelia in less than an hour, anything less than total control was not an option.
He lied to her…again. But then, Angel reasoned, their relationship was based on lies and half-truths. Cordelia had trusted him, believed in him and his mission with pure, unadulterated faith, they all had. And being a selfish bastard, he had allowed that faith to go unchallenged and basked in the warmth of her love. At least until his past caught up with him, unmasking what really existed behind the celestial name.
It’s not the demon that needs to be destroyed, it’s the man; he had told Buffy once. One truth Angel discovered during his sabbatical; that night with Cordelia, the remnants of his humanity had gained absolute control, and desecrated the only thing, good and pure, fate had granted him.
***
Cordelia blinked several times, giving her head a good shake before taking a second look. Angel was slumped in his chair, legs stretched out and his feet propped on the table. Ears perked, she listened, positive it was a hallucination. No, Angel was actually laughing. Not a big hardy har har laugh, but a definite chuckle when Lorne obviously said something funny. And a chuckle from Angel was like a belly roll from a normal person.
“Muffin, you’re here. Come, join us.”
“Celebrating?” Cordelia asked, taking a seat and sniffing the cup of tea waiting for her.
“I guess it’s reason enough to celebrate.” The nervous clatter in Lorne’s voice betraying his relaxed guise. “Making Mr. Stoic laugh has been a personal goal and well…” He trailed off sweeping his hand in front of Angel’s face.
“Well congratulations. Did you win anything other than that smug look on your face?”
“Oh Princess, don’t pop my glory balloon. I’m making pastries for my two dumplings, and speaking of pastries…” Lorne called out leaping from his chair and darting into the kitchen. “I hear the oven calling.”
Death by demon or skull cracking vision was no longer a concern. The strands of awkward silence wrapping around Cordelia’s throat would be her demise.
This is worse than going to the gynecologist, dentist and DMV all on one day. As much as you might need those people from time to time, you can always just say shove it and walk away. Not exactly the case here.
The one fact Cordelia was certain of was that Angel wasn’t offering a choice of yes or no, only how they would proceed. There had to be a way to make this work; logic told her Angel returning was a practical decision. Wesley and Gunn would benefit and she’d get to step back from demon duty. Maybe it could work; she pondered the rewards of simply turning over vision statistics and staying home while the men went off to slay. Not a bad scenario Cordelia decided, when manipulated into what was best for her.
“A penny for your thoughts.”
“Huh? Oh, sorry…kinda lost in thought.”
“I know…so?”
“So what? Oh; do you even have a penny?”
Angel reached into his pocket; and a penny pressed between the table and his index finger slid across the table until it laid in front of Cordelia.
Cordelia eyed the shiny copper coin. She hated idle small-talk, almost as much as she hated Angel thinking she was so easily cajoled.
“Maybe you should just keep it.” She flicked the coin, sending it back across the table. “If you hear my thoughts then ask for change, we’ll just have another reason to argue.”
“That won’t happen. Actually, I’d be getting a bargain…if you told me what you were really thinking that is.”
“Since when do I not say what I’m thinking?”
“Never, but what you’re thinking isn’t my concern.” Angel admitted, wishing other truths could be as easily confessed. “It’s what you’re feeling that I’m willing to pay for.”
“Well in that case…” Thoughts and feelings were as opposite as day and night, and if thoughts were begrudgingly shared, feelings didn’t stand a chance. “You can’t afford it.” Cordelia gave the chair a quick shove scraping it across the floor. “I’m gonna check on Lorne, well to be exact, his pastries. I’m suddenly in the mood for something sweet.”
Cordelia was being too civil. Not forthcoming with useful information, but the casual conversation, and change in her demeanor was too good to believe…or trust. She was working him, that much Angel was sure. He’d have to change tactics, but it would need to be handled delicately; if Cordelia felt pressured she’d strike back. Angel needed to let her move forward, confident in their casual we’re only getting along mode, while shifting their relationship in a more intimate direction. I can do that, he assured the cannonade of doubt.
Angel slipped into the kitchen undetected, quietly eyeing the hustle of activity and waiting for his opportunity. “I have a suggestion for our next meeting.”
“OK,” spit out; Cordelia gagging on the large chunk of apple turnover rolling around in her mouth, followed by a garbled “milk” and ‘high priority’ look to her snacking partner.
Lorne quickly delivering a rescue of cold, low-fat milk, dabbed a towel over Cordelia’s mouth and chin as he scolded her overzealous pastry scarfing.
“Jumping willagers princess, there’s plenty for everybody.”
“Thanks, and ewe.” Cordelia scrunched her face swallowing down the mishmash of fruit and skim milk. “Does someone think I need to watch the calories?”
“Not you my little non-fat latte, but this sleek, gorgeous body is my livelihood. Well that and the Judy Garland vocal chords.”
Angel sized up the situation; Cordelia was purposely ignoring him. The startled choke had been genuine, but now she was just dragging it out.
“So, how about it?”
“How about what?”
“My suggestion Cordelia.” Patience may be a virtue when dealing with Cordelia, but it was also a rare commodity.
“Did you actually make a suggestion or just suggest that you had one?”
Snark untempered; Angel missed that, and Cordelia had him with that one. “Right.” He’d never actually stated his case before the gagging and spitting, and fat debate. “I thought it’d be nice to go out, maybe have dinner at a nice restaurant. You choose and I’ll treat.”
And seeing doe eyes wide with fear as blaring headlights threatened to run her over, Angel quickly corrected his proposition. “All of us. If we’re going to work together, Wes and Gunn need to be comfortable having me around.”
Covert vampire watching was impossible Lorne decided, wall-eyeing Angel’s newest ploy as he stashed the milk carton inside the refrigerator. Patience and Angel do not good bedfellows make.
“Uh, what do you think Lorne; you coming with us?” Cordelia wasn’t sure how much of her confidence stemmed from Lorne’s presence instead of the club’s protection spell, but having at least part of that confidence was better than none at all.
“Would if I could pumpkin, but unless the big guy is planning a clandestine outing I’m afraid I won’t fit in.”
“Maybe we could just tell the gawkers to get over it. I mean there’s a lot of unattractive people running around, and they get to eat in nice restaurants.”
“If there’s one thing I’ve learned princess,” Lorne offered while sending Angel a conversant glare, “it’s that humans and demons alike are resistant to change.”
Angel felt the stinging flick of Lorne’s scorn, pushing resentment aside to concentrate on appeasing Cordelia’s discomfort. “We won’t be alone Cordelia. I wouldn’t ask for that. I just thought it’d be nice for the four of us to have dinner together.”
“Fine,” Cordelia snapped, throwing the small kitchen towel onto the counter. Angel had managed to maneuver her back against the wall and flight seemed her best option. “If you think stuffing me with a ten pound lobster will fix things; who am I to disagree?” Cordelia sprinted around the counter, spinning around as she crossed into the lounge. “In case you haven’t noticed, they don’t know…and I don’t want them to know.”
Fists firmly riding the curve of her hips, eyes squinted to narrow slits, and lips pursed warning she’d reached her limit, Angel glimpsed his Cordelia. The take no crap hellcat that would spit in an opponent’s eye before showing fear; and Angel felt the echo of a heart-beat.
“Idiot,” Lorne hissed, slapping Angel’s arm with the back of his hand. “Can you not understand the concept of good things come to those who wait?”
***
“Am I the only one that sees the irony here? The dude’s a vampire, and unless this place is another demon hangout, it ain’t gonna have blood on the menu.”
“Gunn, will you please give it a rest?”
Wesley laid his head against the back of the couch, tightening the pinch on the bridge of his nose. This was actually making his time as a watcher and even life with his father look good.
“Cordelia, when did you and Angel discuss dinner plans?”
Great, Cordelia’s conscience groused, more questions meant more lies. “Angel called me yesterday, asking to talk…and I agreed to meet him at Caritas.”
After Angel’s descent into his dark past almost six months ago, they had decided to continue the mission, and in the process grown closer; but this newest development only served to confirm Wesley’s concerns. Cordelia was still clinging to her past with the Angel they once knew and trusted; and as the eerie shiver rippled up his spine, he couldn’t help but worry his friend would suffer further heartache and disappointment.
“Damn girl, I can’t believe you met with the guy without telling us; don’t tell me you feel safe around him.”
Damn Gunn, you don’t know the half of it. “Don’t look at me like that. If Angel wanted to hurt me…or any of us, he could pick us off one by one while we’re running around trying to figure out which way to go.”
“Gunn, I don’t believe encouraging Cordelia to retain a body guard service is the way to proceed.”
“Barbie don’t need body guards, she’s got us.”
“Yes, she does.” Wesley quietly agreed, gracing Cordelia with an encouraging smile. “Always remember that Cordelia, Gunn and I will always be here for you.”
***
Cordelia had to admit, she felt calmer than expected. Even managing to enjoy goading Gunn into one of his Angel tirades, until Wesley threatened to turn the car around. The level of fear induced by Angel’s closeness seemed to have diminished…a little. Storming out of Caritas, fear had been pushed aside for anger; and not swallowing down a constant knot of apprehension felt good.
“Welcome to Spago. My name is Julio and I will be serving you this evening.” Dressed in a crisply starched white shirt and black trousers with distinctive tailored pleats, the waiter addressed the small table of four. “Would you care for a drink before dinner or perhaps a bottle of wine?”
“Cordelia,” Angel gestured with a slight lift of his hand. “Would you like a drink?”
A drink, the question resounded in her head; suddenly she was old enough, but pointless for Angel to quibble over age issues now…and a drink would make her newfound determination easier.
“Yes, I’ll have a hurricane please.” She decided, smiling at their attractive, if portfolio lacking, waiter.
Ignoring the scalding glare his gruff uhumm earned, Wesley interjected before Cordelia’s order could be scribbled onto the pad. “A hurricane, that sounds potent.”
“That hurricane drink sounds good, bring me one of those too.” Gunn had been taking care of himself and other kids on the streets for a long time, and the legalities of a little underage drinking just didn’t hold the same punch for him.
“Bring us a bottle of Amarone, something from the late sixties if you have it.” The command of Angel’s voice jolted everyone’s attention, rescuing Wesley from his impending tongue lashing.
“Excellent choice sir,” Julio acknowledged with a swift nod, making a hasty retreat to the kitchen and avoiding further discussion of an appropriate beverage for the young woman.
“Amarone? I don’t believe I’m familiar with that wine.”
“It’s a red wine from Italy’s Veneto Region. It’s stronger than most reds, made from a blend of partially dried grapes.”
If his expertise of history’s finer pleasures was all he needed, Cordelia would be firmly settled in his life by evening’s end. Pity, Angel’s subconscious grumbled spotting the glint of child-like fascination, that it wasn’t Wesley he wanted in his bed.
“So…Angel, have you decided to remain at the hotel?”
“For now. There’s a month left on the lease, but it’s too big for one person, and that’s a lot of money when only one room is being used.”
“I thought you liked a lot of space, you know the loner thing?” Gunn chimed in, throwing Cordelia a playful wink.
“You can be alone in a room full of people.”
“Very true,” Wesley whispered staring out at the crowd of patrons. “For most of my life I felt like I didn’t fit in.”
“But not anymore; right?” Cordelia slipped her hand over Wesley’s, remembering the pitiful geek that had joined her and Angel after they’d lost Doyle.Don’t start remembering things even sadder than this. God, if I start blubbering in public I’ll have to kill myself.
“Not at all, and I’m very grateful for that.” Wesley placed a hand over Cordelia’s giving it a squeeze.
“Hey! What about me?”
“Charles, when I think of life with you…” Wesley fell silent for a moment, lifting his free hand to give his head a concentrated scratch. “…I am at a loss for words.”
“Quick, somebody call the Guinness folks; I’ve accomplished the impossible.”
The three laughed, Wesley meeting Gunn’s hand in a rowdy high five; and Angel felt like his chest was in a vice. Watching the camaraderie, listening to the easy banter was harder than expected. He had been a part of this family, and walked away because of Darla; but not before destroying the ties that could lead him back.
“You’re wine sir.” The waiter poured a sip into Angel’s glass, moving around the table when ushered a nod of approval. “Nineteen sixty-eight was a very good year for the Veneto vineyards.”
“Indeed,” Wesley offered, sucking air across his wine coated tongue.
“May I suggest an appetizer before ordering?”
Angel glanced at Cordelia, her anxious expression a signal best not ignored. “We’ll skip the appetizer this time. I’ll have a porterhouse, extra rare.”
The waiter’s head jerked up, “extra rare,” his complacent expression betrayed as he repeated the request. “You do want it cooked; yes?”
“If Bessie’s tied out back just lead her in.”
“Gunn, behave.”
“What? I’m just making sure the man gets what he wants.”
Cordelia almost choked on her wine, not sure which she enjoyed more; Gunn having fun at Angel’s expense or Wesley’s never ending effort to be the voice of parental reasoning…or maybe it was the wine.
“Angel is more than capable of getting what he wants Gunn, and let’s give Wesley the night off or next time he might get a sitter and leave you at home.” Moving the slow process of ordering along, Cordelia turned to their befuddled waiter, “I’ll have the veal parmigiana and a tuscany salad,” then offered to share her rarely used expertise of fine dining. “Gunn, do you need me to help you order something you’ll like?”
“No, I think I’ll go with Angel and play it safe, but I don’t want it to bleed when I jab my fork into it.”
“Very good sir, porterhouse well done; and you sir?”
“Oh my, everything looks so delicious it’s difficult to decide.”
Perhaps of chunk of Bessie before your friends scarf her down? Julio silently suggested behind his mask of polished decorum, relieved when the gentlemen thought it prudent to follow the young woman’s choice and praying lack of etiquette would be compensated with a hefty tip.
***
“Lilly!” Lorne screeched. “Welcome to my humble abode.”
“My dear friend.” The woman greeted Lorne with a loving embrace. “It’s been much too long.”
“Miguel, mind the store for a while. I’ll be in the back if you need me.” Lorne called out, leading his guest toward his private quarters.
“Your club looks wonderful Lorne; just the way I pictured it.” Lilly offered, settling into the plumb chair as Lorne set her suitcase next the bed.
“This is a small bag Lilly; you must be planning on a short stay.”
“You sounded desperate so I packed quick; and yes, next week is booked solid so the weekend is all I can afford on such short notice.”
“Desperate huh; was I that obvious?”
“Enough that I hopped on the first plane out of Chicago. So tell me what’s going on and what I can do to help.”
***
God, I hope the food comes soon. If I have to keep smiling my face will crack. Look at this place, this is gonna cost a fortune. All of a sudden Angel’s the big spender? Obviously the tightwad doesn’t know dinner is supposed to come before the sex.
How long does it take to wave a steak over the flame? Not that I’m anxious to eat a slab of beef, even if it is bloody. I hate that fake smile. It might fool the bumbling duo, but not me. If Cordelia doesn’t stop smiling I might just have to shake her, and touching without permission won’t help my cause.
Why is Angel grinning like that? He can’t think Cordelia’s smiling at him. She’s just glad that me and Wes are with her. The vamp alone with our Cordy, like that’ll ever happen; yea right.
Good Lord, this is uncomfortable. I need to say something, but what can we discuss that would include Angel, and more important, not encourage false hope for Cordelia? Look at her, poor girl; she looks so happy.
“So how about you guys bring me up to speed on what’s been happening while I was away.”
Oh, thank God. That’s a relatively safe topic. “Rather busy actually. The visions take up a large portion of our time, but we’ve managed to pick up a few cases here and there to cover expenses. We’ve even discussed-”
“Enough about us; don’t want to hog the limelight. What big adventure were you off on this time?”
Cordelia’s gasp whirred over the grunt of Wesley clearing his throat, and Gunn gulped, wide eyes burning under heated glares. Saved by the waiter’s return with dinner, Gunn considered making use of Wesley’s suggestion to think before he speaks. “Or just keep it to yourself.”
***
“Wow,” Lilly blurted her professional response to Lorne’s story. “If you do manage a happy ending for those two, you’d make a fortune selling the publication rights.”
“Money I don’t need, and a happy ending I’ll pay for if that’s what it takes.”
“This doesn’t sound like a story with a happily ever after, but if anyone can do, it’s you. You helped me find a happy ending when my life was falling apart.”
“Then help me help them now; we’ll call it one of those paying it forwards gigs.”
***
Dinner had proceeded without further controversy, peppered with occasional polite conversation, and their evening almost over, the four walked quietly across the parking lot.
He wanted to drive her home, knowing his offer would not be received well…by any of them. But Angel readily confessed well thought out plans were not his strong suit, and throwing caution to the wind reached for her hand.
“Cordelia, I was-”
“Gees, not now!”
Angel staggered back from the blow before honed senses picked up the familiar sensations; and knees buckling, upper torso lunging forward from the vision’s force, Angel caught Cordelia, lifting her up into his arms.
“It’s Ok, ssshhh,” the soothing croon filtered through the onslaught of flashing neon lights and blaring music as slender fingers curled down, nails digging into his silk shirt and the flesh beneath it.
Angel maneuvered into the back seat; Cordelia still nestled in his arms, and with a quick shove into his pocket tossed the keys onto the front seat. A gruff “you drive,” directed to either man that chose to respond.
They eyed each other for a brief moment, Wesley shifting into his uneasy role of leadership. “Grab a few weapons, we’ll leave the truck here for now.”
Engine revving and weapons safely stashed on the floor, Wesley glanced over his shoulders, a simple shrug gesturing need for instructions.
“What do we need to do Cordy?” Angel whispered into her ear, Cordelia’s stiff body hugging the contours of his chest.
“I don’t know,” wheezed through the pain crushing her skull, the visions had never been this excruciating before. “I just see lights flashing, and people laughing and dancing…and screaming. That’s all,” she hissed, exhausted from the barrage of useless information. “I don’t see anything else.”
“We’ll figure it out, just try to relax.” Angel tore his eyes away, giving a quick glance to the two men eagerly watching from the front seat. “We’re taking Cordelia home…now,” he barked when met with a glimpse of hesitation.
“Right; Gunn follow us in the truck.”
“But shouldn’t we-”
“I’m not moving Cordelia until we have to. The visions are always painful, but this isn’t normal.”
“I’ll be right behind you.” Gunn conceded, taking only a second to grab the weapons before sending Angel a warning glare.
Cordelia whimpered again, the lingering ache refusing to give up its torment; and Wesley slowed down, cautiously avoiding potholes and sudden stops. Cool lips brushed across her temple, her body shivering inside his embrace, and Angel speculated whether the cool, night air or his touch could lay claim to the dense layer of goose bumps.
Angel cursed, realizing his leather jacket was locked in the trunk; it wasn’t totally inconceivable the night air was the culprit. “Gunn, toss me your jacket; Cordelia’s cold.”
The jacket was off in a flash, Gunn rising up on his knees and leaning over the seat to wrap the short coat around Cordelia’s upper body. “We could stop long enough to put the top up…but we’ll be at Cordy’s place in a few more minutes.”
“No, this is good.” Angel rasped, his hands briskly rubbing over exposed skin. He tightened the wrap of his arms, sadly aware the vision’s aftermath awarded the ephemeral luxury. Covered with the borrowed cover Cordelia’s body began to warm, and laying his forehead against hers, Angel reveled in the wave of warmth enveloping him.
Her body racked with pain, her heart ached for the comfort of this long missed shelter; and eyes clinched tight against the sting of tears, Cordelia snuggled further into Angel’s protective embrace, knowing it could only last for a little while.
***
“Look, I know this girl is in a really bad place right now, but she’s not the only one hurting. A rapist doesn’t come back to try to make things right; he moves on to his next victim. Only in this case, the rapist was the next victim.”
“So you’re saying Angel assaulting Cordelia was a reflection of his own personal assault?”
“Not exactly, I know it’s hard to understand. Actually, I’m having a little trouble wrapping my head around it myself.”
Lorne huffed a tired sigh, gulping down the remainder of his drink, and Lilly forged ahead with her piecemeal of facts. “Without counseling them, it’s impossible for me to understand the driving emotions, but it’s reasonable to conclude he was severing ties to what he believed he’d already lost.”
“But Angel’s back, and he wants to reattach severed ties…and he’s not real focused on the fact that Cordelia tossed her end of the rope months ago.”
“She’s obviously agreeing to these counseling sessions you’ve set up, so I have to wonder if she threw that rope away or merely buried it so she could pretend it no longer existed.”
“I did cover the part where Angel’s a vampire, right; prone to bouts of killing and maiming when he believes it’s justified…even hurting the people he’s supposed to care about.”
“We all have those tendencies, and soul or not, we don’t need to be a demon to act on them.”
***
He had ignored the ramblings and suggestions of we can handle things from here, and strolled into the building. But now, standing on the outside of the open door, Cordelia still cradled in his arms, Angel had no doubt the invisible barrier would block the last step of his unexpected journey.
“Cordelia,” he whispered, leaning his head down until his lips brushed against her ear. “Invite me in, we need to get you into bed.”
Had she bothered to predict the possible endings to their night, Angel carrying her to her bedroom wouldn’t have been on the list. But then, Cordelia reconsidered, nothing about her life in LA had been predictable.
“Come in Angel,” she replied, adding on the conditions of his invitation, “if you promise to put me down; otherwise the guys are going to pass out from asphyxiation.”
***
“Sweet dreams doll face.”
“Goodnight, my little red-horned devil.” Lilly giggled against Lorne’s shoulder.
“Is my lacy nightshirt tickling your nose?”
“No silly, I was just thinking about my ex’s reaction if he were here.”
“Kinky!”
***
Endless replays of the vision invading her sleep, Cordelia tumbled back and forth across the bed. A strobe of colored lights danced across the floor as the small, lithe body whirled around, flaxen wisps bouncing around a face of opaline skin. Blood flowed across the scene as the speckle of lights faded to black; and lungs desperately sucking in air, Cordelia’s body lurched up, her knees folding into her chest. Arms wrapped around her legs, she rocked, her back tapping against the headboard as the desperate chant droned into her dimly lit bedroom.
“Oh God-oh God-oh God…Not again…It can’t be….Oh God-oh God-oh God…”
