Part IV
Everyone left her, in the end.
Her daddy was only the first. He was the one who hurt the most, by far, but he was just one of many. After her father left there was her first Watcher, dead at a vampire’s hand. Then Kendra, dead in Spike and Dru’s last attempt at conquering the Hellmouth; Buffy had staked them to avenge her, but it didn’t do anything to assuage the gnawing emptiness she’d felt. Then Faith, murdered by the Initiative in their first days in Sunnydale; they hadn’t even had a body to bury.
Then Willow and Xander, murdered by a demon soon after the Winter descended. Then Oz, who made his apologies and got the hell out of Sunnydale; he’d always been the brightest of the bunch. Then Mom, who simply died. Finally Giles, drained by a vampire — the last agony, the ultimate horror. No, not quite the ultimate: Angel had cut off Giles’ head for her.
Angel was the only one who’d never abandoned her. After Kendra’s and Faith’s deaths, he had been her rock, her comfort, her guide. But after Willow and Xander’s death, it had changed. She had needed so much — more than he could give. Maybe more than anyone could give.
Buffy needed Angel to make her life right, and he couldn’t. It was unfair to expect him to be able to perform miracles. In her head, she understood that. In her heart, it felt as though the anger had been building up for years on end. And yet she never walked away from him. How could she? He was all she had left. All she would ever have. Angel was the one consolation for all the sorrows in her life; if he couldn’t make up for everything, well, she’d take what he could give: Companionship. Sex. Backup. Support. Strength.
He couldn’t give her any of that while he was wheeling around Los Angeles with Wesley and Cordelia.
She tried to tell Jenny that and make her understand why it was so hard to let Angel go, even for a night. But Jenny just didn’t get it.
“It’s one night,” Jenny said. She was going through some of Giles’ old books, looking for any mention of Naiura. Her elbows were propped up on the counter, and one eyebrow was raised. “Even you can go without for one night, right? Or is there something about vampire-slayer appetites I don’t know? No, don’t tell me. If I don’t know, I want to go right on not knowing.”
“It’s not sex,” Buffy said. “Didn’t you hear a word I said?”
“I heard you saying that Angel’s the only thing in your life,” Jenny said. “Which is my cue to say something like ‘What am I, chopped liver?'”
“We’re friends,” Buffy said automatically. “But — it’s not the same as it was with Will and Xander. Just like Wesley’s not the same as Giles.” She hadn’t meant it as an attack, but she could tell Jenny took it that way. Jenny took a deep breath, then shut the book. “Miss Calendar — I didn’t mean –“
“You just meant that you’ve lost what mattered most to you,” Jenny said. “Guess what? You’re not the only one. And if I can live the rest of my life without Rupert, you can learn to make it one night without Angel.”
Buffy thought Jenny might be crying. She couldn’t see for sure because of the tears in her own eyes. “I’ll make it one night without Angel,” she said. “I just don’t want to. I’ve had to make it so long without so many people. I just — I just want the one person I’ve got — “
“I know,” Jenny said, a little less roughly. “I’m just saying — it’s only one night. It could be a lot worse. At least tomorrow, Angel’s coming back to you.” After a moment of silence, Jenny turned and went out of the library, back to her own office, her own pain. Buffy felt even worse than she had before.
***
Wesley had thought that Cordelia would take them to her L.A. mansion. He hadn’t really thought it through or come up with a reason why she’d take them to a home she didn’t believe was her own. He only knew that, insofar as he’d thought about it, he’d pictured them seated in some ridiculously large and luxurious home, Cordelia perched on a $50,000 sofa as she spilled out more tales of this world that never was.
Instead, she’d brought them to a nightclub.
“Caritas,” Wesley said. “That’s Latin for ‘mercy.'”
“I understand Latin,” Angel said shortly. Wesley sometimes forgot that Angel had been educated in a century when Latin was a requirement for every schoolboy. “Unusual name for a nightclub.”
“It’s an unusual nightclub,” Cordelia said. After her melancholy and silence in the car, Wesley was surprised to see that Cordelia seemed alert, even eager to go inside. “Come on, guys. We’re about to get the poop. As in facts, not as in, you know, poop.”
“I should hope not,” Wesley sniffed.
Cordelia frowned. “I forgot what a tight-ass you used to be.”
“Used to be?” Angel murmured. Wesley decided to ignore that.
As soon as they went through the doors, Wesley realized exactly what Cordelia had meant by “unusual.” The place was packed with demons — good, evil and neutral; ugly and beautiful; dangerous and harmless. Humans were there too: Lawyers with sleek suits and suspicious faces, witches with rune-necklaces, tourists with disposable cameras. Strangest of all — they were all enjoying a night of karaoke.
“The moment I wake up –” crooned a small, violet-colored demon, “– before I put on my makeup, I say a little prayer for you –“
“Bizarre,” Wesley said. “Of all the activities to bring about a sort of truce between demons and humans –“
“It’s not the karaoke,” Cordelia said. She was smiling now, and Wesley could only describe the expression on her face as one of profound relief. “It’s what happens after. Come on.” She tugged at Angel’s arm familiarly, as though she’d done it dozens of times before; when Angel stared down at her, Cordelia tensed and pulled away.
To cover the awkwardness, Wesley said, “Is this where you met Naiura?”
“No,” she said, then sighed. “I actually summoned her. Amnesia is an ugly, ugly thing.”
They wound their way through the crowd to a small table next to the stage. A green demon with short red horns sat alone, nodding his head to the music and sipping what looked like a Sea Breeze. As they got to the table, Cordelia hesitated before saying, “Lorne?”
The green demon — Lorne — looked up and grinned. “Well, hello there, gorgeous!”
“You remember me?” Cordelia’s eyes lit up.
“Forget a face like yours? Never!” Lorne said. “Let me tell ya, I never miss an episode. The sexual tension between Cordy and Todd? Hot stuff, baby, this evening!”
Cordelia’s happiness faded in an instant. Her shoulders slumped. “You mean — you only remember me from the show. The show from this reality.”
“Yes, like another 22.9 million viewers each week, I watch the show. But that ‘this reality’ bit — that’s kind of a cliffhanger, hon.”
Wesley cut in. “Cordelia’s memories have been tampered with.”
“No, they haven’t,” Cordelia insisted. “Reality’s been tampered with. Not my memory. I mean, I remembered where to find this place, right?”
“We can argue about this all night,” Angel said. “We’re never going to get an answer.”
“Yes, we are,” Cordelia insisted. “As soon as I sing.”
“Sing?” Angel and Wesley said in unison.
“I don’t know about her I.Q., but she’s got my M.O. down pat,” Lorne said. “When people sing, their souls open up, and I can read them. I get a little peek at their past, maybe a sneak preview of the future. That’s why people and sort-of people come to Caritas. To learn their destiny. And as long as people are singing, why not karaoke?”
Angel sat heavily at the table. “I really thought there was something behind all this,” he whispered to Wesley. “But no. Cordelia Chase has simply gone insane.”
Wesley couldn’t disagree.
***
Riley took sentry position at the door, nodded for the guard there to leave. His rank was high enough to get out of this kind of duty if he chose, but he wanted to know what was about to be said here — and he knew by now that Maggie Walsh only told him what she wanted him to hear.
She was sitting at the broad table now, glancing at him with a too-knowing smirk. Dr. Walsh could read him easily. It bothered Riley that she knew what he was up to and didn’t feel like doing anything about it. He liked to think he could be a problem for her, if he chose.
But then you never do choose, do you? he thought.
Nairua sat next to Walsh, not acknowledging her. The silvery-blue demon didn’t seem to be deliberately ignoring Walsh so much as she appeared to be genuinely indifferent to her presence. Riley wondered at such nonchalance, even envied it.
The doors slid open, and Adam lumbered in. His twisted face and hulking body rarely betrayed any emotion, but he reacted to Naiura. Riley couldn’t tell how, exactly — he could only see some tension, some hesitancy.
Naiura smiled. “Greetings, Adam. It is a pleasure to know you. I am Naiura. Do you know of me?”
“I know things that have been said,” Adam replied in his usual grave, polite voice. “I know things that have been.”
“Then you know that I am from a dimension very unlike your own,” Naiura said. She steepled her long, slender hands in front of her. “And that I wish to go home.”
“I had realized this must be so,” Adam said. “But you have not made it clear why I should help you.”
“Give me time.” Naiura smiled, her teeth shark-white in contrast to her slate-scale skin. “You owe me, Adam. Far more than you know.”
Maggie Walsh drew back. “He owes you?” she scoffed. “He’s only been alive for three years, and I’ve been here for all of them. And I don’t recall you doing him any favors.”
Naiura was unfazed. “You owe me too, woman.”
“She is correct,” Adam said. It took Riley a moment to realize that he was reprimanding Walsh instead of Naiura. “But for Naiura’s work, you and I would both be dead, Mother.” Riley felt his eyes go wide; he fought to keep his jaw from dropping.
Apparently he wasn’t the only one who was surprised; Naiura straightened up and raised her feathery eyebrows. “How can you know this?”
Adam smiled — a rare, terrible sight. “I understand all realities. I can sense when they change around me, when they are created new. I have known such manipulation in the past, and I understand now that the reality we live in is a recent creation of yours. In the reality that came before, both Mother and I died long ago.” Adam turned toward Walsh, and his smile was more horrible yet. “Things were very different between us, Mother.”
“I don’t understand,” Walsh said. Her hands gripped her clipboard tightly; Riley could see her white knuckles. “This — this isn’t reality?”
“It is reality,” Naiura said. “Now. And perhaps hereafter. But not before.”
“You gave us the reality we now possess,” Adam clarified. “The sight granted to me does not reveal why you did so, however.”
Naiura was beginning to relax again, her smile broadening; Riley figured that the conversation was going the way she wanted it. For his own part, he knew he was still in a state of shock. Reality wasn’t — real. Or was it? His head would hurt later when he tried to puzzle this out. For now, he concentrated on what Naiura was saying. “I can only change reality when and as I am petitioned to do so. The limitations on my power in this realm are severe. For centuries I have twisted fate this way and that — reuniting distant lovers, changing the outcome of wars, other such ridiculous, earthly things. But finally, two days ago, a girl summoned me and made a very — vague — request.” Naiura laughed, a sound that Riley found lovely and alluring despite himself. “I saw a way to answer her plea and yet serve my own purpose. The result is the reality you now inhabit.”
“Your own purpose,” Adam said. “What is that?”
“To go home,” Naiura replied. “And I believe you have found the means.”
***
Angel couldn’t take his eyes away from Cordelia. Neither could anyone else in the room. They were all staring, all listening — all aghast.
“Youuuuuu’re heeere, there’s nothing I feeeear,” Cordelia sang, her voice cracking on the notes. “I know my heart will go onnnnnn–“
“That answers that question,” Wesley said. Angel turned and raised an eyebrow, and Wesley shrugged. “I always suspected she was lip-synching in the musical episode.” Angel shook his head and went back to watching Cordelia.
She thinks she loves me, he thought as he studied her face, upturned in the rose-and-white stage lights. Why would she ever think that? Angel knew all too well that his love was more burden then blessing; Buffy hadn’t ever put that in words, at least not to his face, but he understood that it was true. Buffy was hurting so much, in such desperate loneliness and need; she deserved someone who could devote himself to her, give her happiness and joy in her life. Angel carried his darkness within him, memories and guilt and grief that kept him from ever being able to elevate Buffy from her present depression. They could only suffer together — but they were destined to support one another, and Angel had long since stopped asking why.
Why would a girl like Cordelia — wealthy and beautiful and successful beyond her wildest dreams — want to imagine herself in love with somebody like him?
Maybe it had something to do with the mission she talked about, Angel thought. She doesn’t just think we’re romantically involved; she believes that we’re partners in something. Something bigger than just ourselves. Something that really matters.
That feeling — that sense of being two parts of one whole, serving a cause that was worth living for or dying for — it was intoxicating. Angel could remember when he’d felt that way about Buffy. It bound you together. Cordelia’s hallucinations might be false, but they had the ring of emotional truth. And he couldn’t deny that the thought of having a mission of his own resonated powerfully within him — even if it was impossible.
“Goooo on and onnnnnn!” Cordelia finished big — as big as she could, anyway. The audience was silent for a moment, then applauded heartily, celebrating the star rather than the song. She smiled weakly at them and went down the steps toward Lorne. Angel turned to look at the demon himself —
Lorne’s mouth was agape. He’d apparently spilled his Sea Breeze at some point during the number, but he hadn’t noticed; a huge puddle covered his table. Angel tapped Wesley on the shoulder as he got up. “I think something’s wrong with this Lorne guy,” he said.
“My word,” Wesley said. “If he has sensitive hearing, no wonder, after THAT.”
They got to Lorne’s table at almost the same moment Cordelia did. To Angel’s surprise, she was smiling at Lorne’s stunned condition. “What did I tell ya?” she said with a grin.
Her question broke Lorne from his stupor. “Holy cow,” Lorne said. “And, not being a Hindu, I do not praise the divinity of bovinity all that often. But what you just showed me –“
“What did you see?” Angel said.
“Normally, big guy, I’d tell you that what I saw was none of your business,” Lorne replied tartly. “Readings are personal. But as it happens, this is your business. Turns out we all knew each other a hell of a lot better, until recently.”
Angel said, haltingly, “You mean — the world she’s telling us about, the one she remembers –“
“Was 100% bona fide,” Lorne replied. “Believe you me, there is no way I would imagine ending up as your baby’s nanny. In a totally unofficial sense, of course, but you don’t do that much babysitting without earning your au pair creds.”
Angel stared at Lorne, then looked at Cordelia, who was gazing back at him in a mixture of triumph and hope. He tried to think of something to say, but could only come up with, “Nanny?”
It couldn’t be real. A mission. A child. Loving Cordelia, and not Buffy. It couldn’t be real. Something else was going on, something stranger than he’d known.
Wesley had apparently drawn the same conclusion. “Mr. Lorne –“
“The last name is actually Deathwok, if you can believe that,” Lorne said. “So please stick to the first-name basis. It’s the least you owe me, since in the previous reality, you smashed me over the head with something very blunt, and no, I don’t mean our TV star here.”
“Hey!” Cordelia said. But then she relaxed and smiled. “You know, I don’t even care. Even being teased by you guys again feels good.”
A mission. A reason to be here. It couldn’t be true. Angel wanted it to be true, and he did not trust his own desires.
“Lorne,” Wesley said, in the measured tone of a schoolmaster, “you must realize that we need some verification of your abilities.”
“Natch,” Lorne said. “So, which one of you lads is going to rock the mic? There are a couple points of that other reality I want to clarify — particularly one about a bunch of guys coming in here and shooting up the place –“
“I’ll sing,” Angel said darkly. He hadn’t sung for a very long time, but he well remembered that Cordelia’s performance was likely to put his to shame. However, he figured his embarrassment wasn’t the most important thing here. “Read me. I want to know what Cordelia’s — beliefs — have to do with me.”
Wesley nodded. Cordelia laughed, a little nervously. “I never thought I’d be glad to hear you sing Manilow again.”
Angel stared at her. “What did you say?”
Cordelia paused, then realized what she’d said and began to smile widely. “I said — I never thought I’d be glad to hear you sing Manilow again.”
Angel stepped a little closer. “Which song?” he asked. “Which song do you think I’m going to sing?”
She stepped closer in return, so that their faces were close together, and her face glowed with excitement. “‘Mandy,'” she whispered. “You are going to get up and sing ‘Mandy,’ because you are such a big ol’ softy that you think it’s pretty.”
Wesley scoffed. “Don’t be absurd. Nobody thinks that — Angel?”
Angel kept staring down at Cordelia’s face in slow, dawning wonder. She could have made up the baby, he thought. She could have met Darla or Drusilla once, and they might have told her about the ballet. There are probably records somewhere of my history with Acathla. And anybody who knew me might have guessed I’d want a reason to think I deserved to live. But there is nobody, nobody on earth, living or dead, who’s ever known that I liked “Mandy.”
Except Cordelia.
He whispered, “It’s true, isn’t it?”
“It’s true,” she said, and she took his hands in hers. “It’s all true. Angel, do you believe me? Oh, God, please say you believe me.”
“Angel?” Wesley was staring at them in frank disbelief.
“I think — I think I do,” Angel said to Cordelia. He felt it washing over him, lifting some weight he hadn’t realized he was carrying. For the first time in years, Angel felt strangely, exhilaratingly free. “I believe you.”
She gave a wordless cry of delight and flung her arms around him. Angel stiffened and stepped back, disentangling himself right away. The weight descended again, as quickly as it had gone. Cordelia looked at him, first in hurt, then in understanding. “This doesn’t exactly solve our problems, does it?” she said.
“I should rather think it doubles them,” Wesley said.
***
Riley walked alongside Dr. Walsh, hoping to catch her eye. Surely she wouldn’t let Adam give this Naiura creature access to their latest find. Riley didn’t fully understand what it was yet, but he’d gathered that nobody else did either. They only knew that it possessed great power, which was a pretty good damn reason to keep Naiura or any other creature like her far away from it.
Then again, it had been years since the Initiative’s reasons for anything had seemed to make sense to Riley.
They reached the research chamber door, and Walsh punched in a code, swiped a card. As the doors slid open, Naiura swept in grandly, Adam by her side. Walsh followed them, and Riley followed her. He saw Dr. Walsh shoot him a look — his authorization to be in this area was limited — but she didn’t openly challenge him.
The giant stone stood in the middle of the floor, various bits of dust and debris cluttering the floor around it. Riley realized that it had indeed been a box, a casing of some kind — and the box had been opened. Within it —
“Beautiful,” Naiura whispered.
Walsh raised an eyebrow. “If you say so. I find it somewhat grotesque.”
“The way home is always beautiful,” Naiura said.
“It opens up a gateway to a hell dimension,” Adam said. “I have sensed this already. That is your home?”
“It is — close enough,” Naiura said, as if mesmerized. “From there, I can find my way. Nothing will constrain my powers there.”
“So, you wish me to open up this gateway,” Adam said.
“You are close enough to human to do it,” Naiura said. “Only something part human — a vampire or a zombie, or you, whatever you are — can use his blood to do so.”
“Why?” Riley said. They all stared at him, angered by his uncharacteristic break from silence. But he stood up straighter and continued. “Why would he open up a gateway to a hell dimension? That would destroy him along with the rest of us.”
“To cement this reality in place,” Naiura said.
“This is reality!” Walsh insisted. “You said you’d changed it; I can’t verify that, but I know what’s real now.”
Naiura sneered, “It is real because I am in it. When I leave — when my influence over this realm ceases — then things will shift. They will change. I do not know exactly how. But I do know that it does not take many changes to ensure that both of you cease to live, and your power in Sunnydale to be ended.”
Riley was confused, but Adam seemed to understand. “Opening the gateway for a short time would release great power into the Hellmouth,” he said. “You could pass through. And when I closed it, using my own blood, then this reality will become the only reality. Now and forever.”
“You see?” Naiura said, delighted at his understanding. “We can all have what we need. All of us.” She placed her hands on the feet of the stone demon. “I couldn’t get to this, last time. I didn’t have a chance, but now I do.”
“Someone else used it before?” Walsh said.
“Someone else,” Naiura agreed. “Someone else who had sworn his blood to Acathla.”
Riley made sure he remembered the name. Acathla. Acathla.
***
Cordelia cried all the way through “Mandy.” She couldn’t help it, and she didn’t want to.
At one point, Wesley leaned toward her and said, “Come, now. It’s not THAT bad.”
She laughed through her tears. “No, it’s not,” she agreed. “It’s wonderful. It’s beautiful.”
Lorne nodded sagely. “That’s how you know it’s love.”
She beamed up at Angel onstage; she thought he looked at her once, but mostly he was concentrating desperately on the teleprompter, stumbling over the notes. “You came and you gave without taking — and I sent you away — ” Angel sang, gripping the mic tightly in his hands.
He looked awkward. He looked earnest. Despite the sheer terribleness of the moment, he looked hopeful. In short, he looked like her Angel — like the man she loved.
Angel believes me, Cordelia thought. He believes in me, even with all this craziness. This Angel wasn’t her Angel, not exactly — but the difference didn’t seem to matter so much. When she’d had amnesia, she’d been bewildered and disconcerted by Angel’s unquestioning adoration; now she knew just how he’d felt. When you loved a person, you loved more than the shared memories and experiences. You loved the pure truth of them, the spirit or soul or whatever you called it. The part that never really changed — you loved that too.
Cordelia still wanted their world back desperately, but for the first time since she’d come to during the fashion awards, she felt certain she would get that world back. She had Angel at her side again. Now that they were together, they’d find a way. They always had. They always would.
“And I need –” Angel looked even more uneasy than before, but he gamely went for the last note: “Youuuuuu!” Wesley winced. Lorne clutched his temples. Even Cordelia felt her smile waver for a moment.
But he did this for me, she thought. He did it to find a way back for us. Cordelia laughed through her tears and applauded furiously as Angel left the stage. Nobody else was clapping, but Cordelia didn’t care.
Angel was smiling ruefully at her as he walked to their table. “Even you aren’t going to call for an encore.”
“I wouldn’t do that to you,” Cordelia said. “Well, actually, I would, but not tonight. You got the whole picture, didn’t you, Lorne?”
“In Technicolor Cinescope,” Lorne said. “Aren’t you the little bundle of psychological oddities? You could sing the whole EMI catalog, and I still wouldn’t get to the bottom of them all. Not that I want you to sing,” he added hurriedly.
“Can you tell me more?” Angel said. “About this life Cordelia and I had together? And Wesley,” he added, as an afterthought. Wesley looked pained. Weird, Cordelia thought. They don’t even know each other or care about each other, in this reality — and they’re getting along better.
Then she remembered Connor — what had become of the baby, what had transpired with the teenager during her amnesia — and she had to fight back a surge of anger. Cordelia reminded herself: Save it for the Wesley who actually got you guys into this mess.
“I can tell you she’s been giving you the straight story,” Lorne said. “You were quite the crusader in these parts, it seems. Doing good deeds, righting wrongs, occasionally going off the deep end, but, hey, it all comes out in the wash. This reality’s clearer to me, though, and in this reality, buddy, you are in serious need of a change or two. Can you say ‘in a rut?’ You’re getting buried in snowdrifts, and it’s high time you dug yourself out.”
Uh-huh, Cordelia thought. There’s trouble in Buffy-Angel paradise. She knew she shouldn’t care about this reality, seeing as how it was only going to last for another couple of days, but she couldn’t help feeling a warm glow of satisfaction. Then she saw the pain in Angel’s eyes, and she felt ashamed and confused.
“Okay, heading back to the original reality for a sec,” Cordelia said. “I know I got us into this mess, but how do we get out of it?”
“We need to pay a little attention to this reality too,” Lorne said. “Big things are a’brewin’, and they bode not well.”
“Can you explain a little more, ah, concretely?” Wesley said.
“It’s all kind of a jumble to me,” Lorne confessed, “but I know a fella who’s been going on about some of this for a while now. I just thought he’d had too much to drink — in here, it happens — but I am starting to think that you guys are the missing pieces to his puzzle.”
Lorne rose to his feet and started toward the bar; Cordelia and the others followed. “What do you mean?” she said. “Somebody else remembers my reality?”
“I’m not sure,” Lorne said, gesturing toward a figure slumped on a barstool. “Why don’t you ask him?”
The figure turned around. Cordelia gasped.
“There you are,” Doyle said. “About time you guys showed up.”