Act III
Scene 1
Books. He loved them and hated them. Bound to them like a worn, leather cover–one with too many leftover dirty, oily fingerprints. All the facts that made up his pained brain were culled from these mistresses. So why were they so utterly useless to him? He hated them for letting him down over and over again and loved them for saving him just as many times.
But when it mattered most, the true answers were always just out of his reach in some long-lost scroll God hid just to tease him. God, our Father. Why were fathers always testing us and when do our fathers stop being gods? Wesley suspected it was when you joined the club. And if that was the case, he prayed for sterility.
But whether or not God was testing him didn’t matter any more. God was a wanker. If God would let the best friend he’d ever had die for no apparent good reason, then God could suck him off and leave a tip.
True, he had thought it best to let Cordelia go. He was convinced she was already gone. That’s what the facts told him. And he’d almost done it. He’d almost given up on her because he thought it was what was best for everyone else. When truly it was because he didn’t want to fail yet again. He didn’t want to be the one who couldn’t find the only way to bring her back and, thus, be the one who killed her.
But when Angel took that burden from him, he was ashamed. He thought he would have to convince Angel to accept Cordy’s death when, in actuality, he found himself needing to hear the argument. The words Angel spoke were real and true on many levels but something rang false to him.
To honor her by giving up on her wasn’t right. Cordelia was loving and strong, but she wasn’t completely altruistic. Yes, she loved life and would want us to be happy, but sacrificing her own life to make us happy wasn’t Cordelia either. Not if there was any way around it. If Cordelia was anything she was a woman who knew how to bargain…with demons, with destiny, with the shop girl at Costco. She could haggle her way into heaven, hell, or back to her family and wind up being paid to do it.
Yes, he had complete faith that Cordelia would find a way. All he had to do was lend a little help. There was a book or scroll or hieroglyphic or rune or prophesy someplace that would give him the answer. Wes was sure it existed…because all things possible exist. And this was possible.
And now that he was resolved to find that one possibility, he felt he knew where to begin. Her body was still functioning albeit with the help of machines, so that meant her spirit was the problem. It wasn’t a question of merely putting her soul back in as they had done several times with Angel. They’d already tried that.
There was something blocking her soul’s reentry or holding it back. Most probably a malevolent force of some kind, but he had exhausted all known references to such an entity and had already tried the associated unblocking spells. The holding back forces were just as powerful, and already explored, discussed and cast out ad infinitum.
What would keep Cordy from returning? What would stop Cordelia Chase, queen bitch of all Sunnyhell and pretty powerful half-demon seer, from doing anything? Nothing. Nothing alive or dead, holy or unholy could stop her. She was herself a force of nature and…
“Eureka!!”
Scene 2
‘”Move it asshole! Haven’t you ever seen a broken down piece of crap Honda before?” She leaned her head out the window as she passed the piece of crap owner. “Hey! Buy American next time!”
Fred was in mission mode and never felt more alive. Now if all these idiots on Vermont would just realize her mission was more important than their pathetic lives and get out of her way, everything would fall into place.
Man, oh man. Please let it be Cordy. Please, please, please. I’ll shave my head and do the chicken dance at my weddin’ if you’ll let this… “Yeah, same to you buddy!” She flipped off some frickin’ tourist and squeezed her Jag (Ford product, thank you) between a slow ass Rolls and an intimidated Camry.Typical LA. Any time you’ve got to be someplace yesterday, every idiot in town gets in a car to stop you. Now if it would just rain, hell would be complete.
“Damn stop lights! How many can you put in one block and why do they all turn red right when I get to ’em?”
It seemed like everything was going against her. Maybe she wasn’t meant to get there. Maybe…
“Oh, God. What if its some kinda trap? What if the PTBs are trying to tell me to turn back?” Maybe I should call Angel and have him meet me there.“No, no, no idiot. Not Angel. What if it is just some kid playing a prank? Angel would probably gut him for gettin’ his hopes up. No. Definitely not Angel.”
Gunn, Fred or Lorne? Not Lorne. Not unless he could sing ’em to death. And Wes probably wouldn’t believe that it was anything. He’s convinced she’s already gone. “Guess that leaves Gunn. The way he’s been lately, I’m sure he’d jump at the chance to dismember something.”
She reached for the speed dial button on her handless car phone and made the turn onto Santa Monica at the same time. Silver Lake and hope was only minutes away.
Scene 3
The stalking was loads of cool. Almost as good as the kill. But the after slaughter crash was the big jimmy jam of bad. It didn’t used to be that way. Gunn could remember a time when killing the bad guy was just the beginning of the feel good. The slaps on the backs, the high fives, the knuckle and full-body slams. Then came the need for pizza and tacos and the come down from the adrenalin rush was slow and cushioned by laughs and smiles and…friends.
An unexpected growl gurgled in his throat and his eyes flashed yellow. He shook his head and the thoughts of past glories and friends were gone. The acrid smell of fresh blood was on his hands now and it stimulated his need to have more. More justice. More of the righteous fight. He had four demon lairs on his list to clean out tonight, and he was just marking one off, So long Mr. or Ms. Phenologic demon. Don’t let the door hit ya…”, when his cell phone went off.
Dammit. It’s Fred. When is that girl gonna let go of the string. “Yeah, Fred. Whaddup?”
“Charles! Thank God you’re there. I need you to meet me at Cordy’s old apartment in Silver Lake.”
“Why? I’ve got business of my own to take care of tonight.”
Fred didn’t have time for any bullshit from him. “Charles, please. Can’t you do it just because I asked and I’ll explain later?”
Gunn wanted to just hang up. Fred’s nostalgic trip down Coma Cordy lane was so far down his list of priorities it didn’t even make the wannabe list.
“Fred, does this have anything to do with killin’ something, because I’ve got my freak on and I don’t wanna get unfreaked yet.”
She couldn’t believe him. I loved this idiot? “Yes, Charles. There’s gonna be all kinds of opportunities for freakiness. Your freak will be more than satisfied. Trust me.”
“Be there in ten.” He closed the phone and jammed it back in his pants pocket. He thumbed the blacklist with three remaining hits on it and then stuffed it next to the phone. “Guess it’s your lucky night numbers two through four. Best enjoy it while you can.” He picked up his duffle bag of weapons and jogged to his car.
It didn’t bother him one bit that an arm, head and slabs of meat sliced from the once noble and once living Phenologic demon would be left for the garbage man or nearest playing child to find in the morning. It didn’t cross his mind.
Scene 4
Fred heard the click of the hang up and shook her head. “Asswipe.” Her anger over the traffic and now Gunn’s attitude was slowly turning into apprehension. Pissin’ off Gunn might not be a good idea. Maybe she just shoulda explained the whole thing. If he gets here and sees there’s nothin’ to kill except an already dead ghost… “Well maybe he won’t actually kill me. Maybe just break a limb or two.”
She shivered at that thought because part of her knew it could actually happen. She couldn’t be sure when Charles had turned into a machine just going through the motions. But she was sure something changed him the first day they visited Wolfram and Hart. She’d even tried to talk to him about it, but he told her she was crazy and to leave him alone. And she had left him alone because the way he had said it…the emptiness in his eyes… had chilled her to her core.
So another member of the family was gone just like that. First Cordy and then Charles. Angel was slipping away by the second. Wesley hadn’t really come back to them completely before Wolfram and Hart and he was just…well…British. Lorne was the only one she felt any warmth from, but he was so wrapped up in all the celebrities he knew or could meet at any moment, that she rarely saw him.
Cordelia wouldn’t have let this happen. Cordy would’ve fought like hell to keep ‘em together and probably out of Wolfram and Hart completely. Fred’s shoulders sagged at the realization that she was not Cordy and never would be.
The rekindling of her feelings of helplessness was the last straw. She felt the anger rising again and tasted bile in her throat. “There’s only one Cordy and we need her! You hear that you goddamn powers? Don’t mess with certifiable here because I may just have to open me up a portal aimed right at your ass and kick it! ”
Well, maybe I do have just a little Cordy in me. She smiled to herself and then felt the car jerk to a stop. Her eyes shifted back into focus, and she realized she had managed to maneuver her car to the apartment without any conscious effort. Now all she had to do was wait for Gunn and get a big ax out of the trunk just in case.
Scene 5
“I told you they’re coming, Dennis. Fred and Gunn. Although Gunn is giving me some serious heebie jeebies. That dude is messed up and once I get back, I’ve got some glowy house cleaning to do.”
“Isn’t Angel coming? Not that I want to see him again. He doesn’t deserve you, you know.”
“No one deserves me, Dennis. I’m more like a plague than a reward. Well, when I put it that way, maybe Angel does deserve me.” She laughed and it felt strange. “Hey, look at that. I can laugh and I kinda shimmer when I do. Do you do that?”
“No. I’m not like you. I’m just a regular ghost. Dead and invisible. You’re not dead, just disembodied.”
“Yeah, I get that. Kinda comes with the gig…the whole knowledge thing. My knowledge doesn’t happen to include volumes about ghosts though.”
“Do you think we have time for another song before they get here? I’ve really missed singing.”
Cordy felt his sigh and hated to disappoint him, but she had to. “No, sweetie, no time. We’ve got to go over it one more time.”
“I’ve got it. I may be dead, but I’m not a retard. Gee whiz, I graduated high school you know. Plus I’ve been doing this communicating with the living from a different plane a lot longer than you.”
“Dennis. What’s the first thing you’re going to say?”
“Dammit, Cordelia!”
“That’s not it. And stop doing your Angel impression. I don’t have time for jokes.”
“Gee, I don’t know. Was it something like, ‘Boo’?”
“I’m so glad I got to know the funny Dennis. ‘Cause when I die and leave your ass here, I’ll know exactly what I’m not gonna miss.”
Cordelia could feel the equivalent of Dennis scuffing his shoe on the ground and his humphing. She should feel bad, but this was too important. “Dennis, stop pouting and tell me what you’re going to say.”
“Guess you’ll have to be surprised. They’re here!”
Scene 6
There was knocking. Steady, insistent and annoying. Where the hell is it coming from? He looked down to see his knee nervously pounding against the leg of his desk. He had been performing the involuntary motion for the last ten minutes completely unaware. It was the bruise beginning to form on his knobby joint that had alerted him to a problem.
If only his mind was as alert as his nervous system. He’d had a thought about Cordelia’s soul and run with it as far as the known texts could take him. But he hit a wall. The problem he surmised was indeed a possibility as discussed in several treatises on Mayan soul travel. But the most intriguing lead was mentioned in a book written by an observer of various Native American medicine men who described a process of souls joining to heal. The only problem was the methodology was vague.
What he needed was an actual medicine man or at the very least some text written by one with much more detail. Unfortunately, Wolfram and Hart didn’t have any such men on staff. He was informed that these were considered holy men and, therefore, not helpful to their apocalyptic vision. And Native American traditions and practices were passed down from generation to generation usually through the telling and showing of them and not in the writing.
For the first time Wesley realized there were entire cultures on this planet that could disappear without record and with them the volumes of knowledge that would vanish. He would make it his project, as long as he had the resources of this evil empire at his fingertips, to start accumulating that knowledge for the future. It could be his greatest achievement.
In the meantime, back to the problem of Cordelia’s fractured soul. He had no doubt whose soul she must join with, but that would present another problem in and of itself. Not an unconquerable one, but a bit of a snag. It was the rest of the process as he understood it that was the bugger of it.Dammit! I’m so close.
In any case, it was time to bring this to Angel. He waited as long as he could because Angel had seemed resigned to letting her go, and Wesley needed more than theory to possibly raise his hopes only to dash them yet again. Now, at least, he had some research to back up his idea. For the first time since he’d stepped through the doors of Wolfram and Hart, he actually started to feel good. Not just happy good, but the opposite of evil. He was doing good.
Scene 7
“What? You brought me here for this?” Gunn was about to open a whole new jumbo box of whoop ass on this mouse. It was taking every ounce of self-control he still possessed to stop.
“Charles, listen to me. Dennis called me. A lot! Now how did Dennis know my private number? And why now after all these months of missing, then found, then coma Cordy would he want to talk to us? It has to be Cordelia. She must be communicating with him somehow.” Fred was hesitant, but she reached over and touched his arm. He jumped a little at the contact, but he didn’t pull away.
“Why do you need me here? You can talk to Dennis all by your lonesome. You took me away from some important business.”
“I got to thinkin’ that maybe it was some kinda trap. Ya know. Somebody who knows us…who knew about Dennis…could be sittin’ in there in the dark waiting to pounce.”
Dammit, why didn’t I think of that? That woulda been tight. “Yeah, well, okay. Sounds a bit farfetched for your typical lurking evil to come up with, but I suppose it’s possible. Let’s go. But if it is just Dennis acting all boo-hoo woe is me, I will definitely get some of my friends at work to kick his foggy ass into hell for good.”
Friends? Charles has friends at Wolfram and Hart that aren’t us? She looked up to see him already across the street and heading up the path to the apartment. She ran to catch up. “Charles, wait.” He slowed a bit but he didn’t stop for her. When she finally did reach him, he plodded forward again at a brisk pace without looking at her.
“Charles, wait, please stop.”
“Fred, I thought this was urgent. Now are we going up there or not?”
“Yes…no…yes, we are, but give me a second. Charles, what friends at Wolfram and Hart? What friends do you have there that would exorcise Dennis?” She tried to read his eyes, but he wouldn’t turn to look at her.
Gunn realized he’d made a mistake, but nothing he wasn’t capable of fixing. “Hell, girl, that’s just a figure of speech. You know ol’ Wicked and Hell bound got tons of voodoo workin’ freaks that could do the Exorcist on Dennis in a second. I don’t know any of them personally, but it wouldn’t take any of us long to find one.” He turned and grinned for affect.
Fred noticed immediately that the smile didn’t make it to his eyes. Those eyes were cold and half dead. The chills covered her arms, but she hoped he hadn’t noticed her shiver. She didn’t want him to know she was terrified of him right now. Maybe Cordy was the lucky one after all.
“You’re right. We probably could make one phone call and have Linda Blair do it personally.” She smiled weakly hoping her charm would kick into gear and break the tension. “Let’s go. Cordy’s waitin’.”
Gunn waved his ax-wielding arm in an ‘after you’ gesture, and they climbed the steps to Cordy’s old apartment. Reaching the door, Fred took a deep breath and hesitated. Gunn looked exasperated, and reached up to knock when the door opened slowly on its own.
Scene 8
Angel was still in his office even though he should have been out saving someone. After the meeting, he’d felt exhausted. It took everything in him to be strong for his friends. He discovered a whole new level of respect for Cordelia. She had played that kind of scene a thousand times before for her family’s benefit, and he was just now realizing how truly strong she must be…have been.
Any time he used the past tense, he could feel his eyes begin to burn. And he’d been forcing himself to speak and think of her in the past since the meeting. His eyes were raw. Maybe if he got it out of his system tonight, then when 9:00 am came, he’d actually be able to do it without staking himself afterward. Probably be able to. Most likely anyway. Or maybe not.
“Oh, fuck, Cordelia. I need you. Don’t make me do this, please. I’m not as strong as you.”
When she didn’t answer him for the millionth time, his head fell forward and he covered his tear-streaked face with both hands to hide his weakness. She would so kick my ass for brooding like this. That thought gave him a little comfort and a small chuckle got passed the permanent boulder in his throat.
The phone buzzed and his assistant announced, “Mr. Angel, Mr. Wyndham-Price is here to see you.”
“Give me one minute and then let him in.” Angel swiped away the wetness covering his face and went to his private bathroom. He couldn’t see his reflection, but he guessed he wasn’t looking too stone-faced about now. Turning the cold water on full blast, he cupped the water in his hands and soaked his eyes hoping any swelling there would recede. He was just toweling off when Wesley entered.
“What’s up Wes?” Angel tossed the spent towel on the bathroom floor behind him as he greeted Wesley.
Wesley wasn’t a genius at reading people, but he wasn’t a fool either. He recognized immediately that Angel had just been crying and probably had been for some time. But it was certainly not something he would comment on either. Angel obviously did not want to be seen in any light other than strong and in control, and Wesley would not deny him that comfort.
“I think I was wrong. I don’t think Cordelia is gone.”
Angel would have expected Wesley to do the dance of the seven-veils in front of the Queen of England before hearing those words leave his mouth. “You want to pass that one by me again because I’m in no mood for jokes or false hope.”
“I know I’m the one who was convinced that Cordelia was gone and we needed to let her go, and there is a mountain of evidence to support that. But, I now know that I…well, we all…were wrong. At least I’m now certain there is one other possibility that we missed, and I’m not willing to give up all hope as long as there’s one more chance.”
“No, Wes. I don’t believe in last minute reprieves. I know you’re just as upset as I am about doing this, but you were right. She’s left us and we need to say goodbye and move on.” He couldn’t believe he wasn’t grasping at this straw Wes was handing him. But he had to be the strong one. He had to take the responsibility and make the final, tough decision. It was the best thing for his family to put the burden on his back and not let this drag out any longer.
“But, Angel, at least let me…”
“No! No more. It’s over. Let go.”
Wesley felt the old tug of failure in his gut. His father’s voice brow-beating him with his constant barrage of debasing comments raced through his mind.“Look at you. As a girl, you make me proud…” “No one listens to you. Why should they? You’re pathetic…” “Always a Watcher, never a doer…” “Just sit back and watch a little girl do the fighting, that’s all you’re good for…” “Why did I get cursed with you as a son?”
Every time Angel or any other male authority figure challenged him in this way, he always struggled to fight back. To rise above his ingrained sense of worthlessness and insecurity. He’d come so far in the past few years, but it was never going to leave him.
Fathers can brand their sons. Maybe it’s a vestige from their animal ancestor’s tradition of scenting their property. Whatever the source, the mark never goes away. It can only fade. He would always have to fight to believe in himself and stand up against this stamp of insignificance on his soul.
The struggle this time was not a difficult one though. There was too much riding on his belief to back down. Cordy was far more important than his fear of failing in Angel’s eyes.
He moved as close to Angel as was comfortable. Enough to prove he was self-assured. His intense gaze locked with Angel’s. Unblinking, he said, “You let go, Angel. Let go of this show you’re putting on for us. I believe I have a way to get Cordy back. Believe it or not, I don’t care. But, I will do everything in my power to stop you from killing her tomorrow including staking you right now if that’s what it takes. Are we clear?”
Normally anyone threatening to stake him would really piss him off and most likely already be dead. But, all he felt now was relief…gobs and gobs of it. If Wesley was willing to kill him or risk dying for his idea, then it must be valid. And if it was a concrete possibility, then she might not have to die. He might not have to kill her. He didn’t have to be the strong one any more. He could let it go. And he did. The sudden lightness of his load was so startling that his knees buckled, and he would have dropped to the floor if Wesley hadn’t propped him up long enough to guide him to a chair. Thank you, God.
“Thank you, Wesley.”
Scene 9
Fred and Gunn stared into the dark apartment. The corridor light spilled in just enough for them to get a general idea of the layout.
Fred was shocked to see it looking so different. She had stupidly expected to see Cordy’s furniture there even though she and Gunn were the ones who’d cleaned out all her stuff months ago. So to see some stranger’s things in front of her made her hesitate. This was an invasion of somebody’s privacy.
“Do you feel a little strange about doing this?” Fred asked Gunn who was about to step across the threshold, ax at the fore.
“No, why should I? Isn’t this why we’re here?”
“I know, but this isn’t Cordy’s apartment any more. Some stranger lives here. It’s kinda creepy, dontcha think?”
Gunn just rolled his eyes. “Listen, I’m going in. You hang back here until I can check it out and make sure it’s only Casper waiting for us.” Fred nodded silently and pulled her feminine-sized ax up and into ready position.
Gunn had only gotten three steps in when all the lights in the apartment started going on and off and on again creating a strobe affect. He jumped back shocked and steadied himself for an attack. Fred just laughed.
“Hi, Dennis! It’s great to see you, too. How about you blink the lights once if this is a trap and twice if it’s clear for us to come in? Sorry, Charles, I shoulda thought of that earlier. Maybe you didn’t need to come after all.”
The lights went on and off twice and Fred stepped inside. Gunn was thoroughly disappointed in the lack of evil lurkers and turned to exit. Dennis slammed the door shut in his face.
“Don’t be messin’ with me, Dennis. I’ve got places to be.”
The door bolt slid into place. Gunn turned back toward the living room, ax poised to strike at something…anything…and saw a steno pad and pen floating toward him. On it was written, “Gunn, don’t go. Need your help. Cordy.”
Fred squealed. “Cordy! I knew it! Thank you, Dennis. Thank you, thank you, thank you. Oh, my God, Cordy. How are you? Where are you? You’re not dead are ya? Of course, you’re not, because your body’s still alive. So how’ve ya been? Whatcha been doin’? Are you coming back soon, ‘cause we miss the hell out of ya…”
The scratching of the pen on the paper got her to stop yammering for a second. The message read, “Vision. Save girl. Now!”
Gunn looked at Fred hopeful again that he’d get to smash something. They both watched as the pad settled on the table in front of the couch and the pen started flying across the page. Soon they were seated where they both could read everything as Dennis transcribed it.
“Great job, Dennis. Don’t forget to tell them the part about the tail. It’s all spiky and can kill them with one swing. Oh! And tell them to split up. This thing is really fast and looks like it can disappear and be someplace different in an instant.”
“I’m writing as fast as I can, Cordy. What did you say about the eyes?”
“Jesus, Dennis. They can’t look directly in its eyes. They can stun them or something. It gives this thing time to kill ‘em. Pretty important factoid to forget. Sheesh!”
“If you think you can do better, why don’t you talk to them? Huh? Huh? That’s what I thought.”
“Okay, okay. Sorry. You’re right. I do need you and you’re doing great. I’m just really nervous. They’ve got to get to this girl very, very soon and I don’t want anybody getting hurt.”
“Have you got all that, Charles,” Fred asked as she pulled out her cell phone.
“Got it, logged it and ready to crush it. Let’s move.”
They headed toward the door and Fred turned back as they were about to exit. “Cordy, we’ll be right back. Promise. Don’t you go any place!” The door slammed on Cordy’s silent reply.
“Don’t worry. I’m snug as a bug here…there…and everywhere. Not movin’ a muscle you little Texas tornado. So, Dennis, I think we’ve got time for another serenade. What’s on the ol’ jukebox?”
Scene 10
Wesley had explained his theory twice now. Once to Angel and then again to Lorne after Angel called him to join them. Fred and Gunn were unreachable and absent.
“So to sum up, the situation as it appears to exist is: (a) In order for her to be welcomed back into her body, her soul has to be healed; (b) It must join with another soul that is connected to it and to its pain on an intimate and emotional level to heal; (c) Once the healing is complete, the souls must be separated; (d) After they are separated any standard re-ensouling spell should work.”
“But we still don’t know how to do the joining, healing and separating hoodoo, right?” Lorne gestured with his Seabreeze-ladened hand sloshing some on the boss’s rug. “Oopsy. Sorry big guy.”
Angel could only smile. That’s all he’d been doing for the last bit of eternity since Wesley began explaining. Damned if Wesley didn’t make sense, and for the first time in months he was happy to be alive and working at Wolfram and Hart.
“Don’t worry about it. And, yeah, we don’t know how but all we need is a real-life medicine man or someone who at least knows the ritual. How hard can that be, right? We’ve got the world and unlimited dimensions at our fingertips. We should be able to dig up one measly medicine man.”
Wesley couldn’t help smiling at his goofy grin, but he thought it best to temper Angel’s enthusiasm with a smidgen of reality check. “Well, it shouldn’t be impossible but it may not be quite that simple. These sorts of rituals, as I said, are passed down orally and we can’t be certain that this particular soul joining and healing ceremony is still in practice. In addition, it appears to have only been practiced in only a few tribes.”
“Well that’s good. That narrows down the search. We target our efforts on those tribes and question every medicine man they have until we find the one.” Angel wasn’t grasping the true problem.
“Yes, that’s true. It does make it easier, but it also limits our pool of possibilities considerably. Angel, we may only be talking about three or four qualified individuals and the chance of one of them knowing this particular ritual is… I just don’t think we should be looking at this as a sure thing quite yet.” “There’s my boy. There’s the wimp of my loins.” He saw Angel come in for a crash landing and cringed.
“I know you’re right, Wes. But, if there’s any chance…”
Wesley immediately regretted his words. “No, I’m wrong. I’m talking out of my ass.” Lorne did a spit take and added another stain to the carpet.
He ignored Lorne’s slapstick and continued. “I don’t know how many are out there, but I’m sure if there is one we’ll find him. We have to.”
“Way to go, my man Wes! Glad to have the fully-balled version back and jacked up for business.” Lorne raised his glass to him and received an embarrassed grin from Wesley for the effort.
“Yeah, I’m kinda glad to see him, too,” Angel added. “Of course, I could’ve done without the ‘fully-balled’ image floating around in my head right now.”
“Yes, well, we all are, aren’t we.” Wesley grimaced at the thought of Angel picturing his balls.
“Speak for yourself, studly do-right,” Lorne teased and winked unashamedly at Wesley. Wesley was about to let fly a tasty comeback when Angel’s intercom buzzed.
“Yes?” Angel asked.
“Sir, Ms. Burkle is on line one.”
Angel pressed the speakerphone so they all could hear. “Fred, where are you? You need to get back…”
Fred cut him off. “Angel! Listen to me. I’m at Cordy’s old apartment in Silver Lake. Gunn’s here, too. Angel! You won’t believe this. Cordy’s here!! She’s here and she’s talkin’ through Dennis, and man she won’t shut up! It’s the most wonderful thing I’ve ever seen!!”
Fred waited for a response, but there was nothing but silence.
“Angel? Angel did you hear me? Angel!! Dammit, Charles, I think he musta collapsed or something. He’s not answering.”
The double-doors to Angel’s office were wide open. Just as they’d left them when they charged out of his office on their way to Cordelia.