Chapter 2
Angel hadn’t slept well. He’d slept in a variety of positions over the years – a variety of dumpsters and other not-so-pleasant places that he didn’t even want to remember – and Cordelia’s sofa was definitely one of the more comfortable of those, except Angel couldn’t shake the feeling that something was really going on.
Something he should really be worried about.
Wesley hadn’t called back last night. Angel had given up waiting on him after a couple of hours, thinking that he’d probably fallen asleep at his desk and that he really shouldn’t bother him unless it was something important… So Angel hadn’t slept.
He’d tossed and turned and worried and when he’d finally dozed off somewhere in the vicinity of 6am, he could feel the heat of the sun through Cordelia’s drapes – not enough to burn him but enough to let him know it was still there and Angel couldn’t sleep anyway.
He’d started brewing coffee at seven. Kind of his apology in the making, he supposed, and when Cordelia appeared at the door to her kitchen looking kind of sleep-ruffled, she shot him a puzzled look. “Angel, what are you–“
Realization flitted across her features and her tousled morning look slid into a frown, “You’re still here?”
“Cordelia, about last night–“
“Not interested,” she held up her hand and went to her coffee pot, fairly nudging him out of the way.
Fine, he guessed he deserved that. He’d jumped to conclusions – the wrong conclusions and now he was paying for it. “Cordy–“
“Y’know, you of all people, I expect to know me,” she said, her shoulders still scrunched as she adjusted the blinds a little. Sunlight streamed onto her face and from the shadows, Angel felt a twinge. That was where Cordelia belonged, in sunlight, and she spent so much of her life in darkness because of him.
Sorry just wasn’t enough sometimes. “I know you’ve had a few weeks off, what with Darla and everything… But did you really think that I’d done that? That I was stupid enough to do that?”
Angel sighed. He had thought that. The demon coming after her the way it had and what Wesley had said–
“I can see you’re having trouble answering that,” said Cordelia icily, “So maybe I should answer it for you. Yeah, you did. Which isn’t that much of a shocker when I really set my mind to it, given that you barely know yourself these days, never mind me…”
Again, at a loss for words. Angel had tried to say sorry every way he could think of – coffee, actual saying of the words, hell even clothes – and he hadn’t even close to made up to what he’d put her through.
“But despite all that, and the fact that I like watching you squirm, I think my earlier assessment was right,” said Cordelia, making a grand gesture of her very own. She was willing to forgive and forget – for now – if only they could solve this case and get those damn demons off her back.
“There must be a wire crossed somewhere in their wacky little system ’cause I didn’t make a deal. With anyone. Which means that someone else did and offered me as down payment.”
Angel’s nostrils flared, the very notion that something could take Cordelia away again not something he’d entertain, “Which means we have to find out who.”
“Right and right again,” Cordelia nodded, “Preferably before those demons get their hands on me.”
****
“Ah-ha!”
“Good ‘ah-ha’ or bad ‘ah-ha?” Cordelia asked, impatiently, “Because you’ve had fifteen ah-ha’s and counting in the last hour alone and not one of them have been remotely what we needed.”
Wesley glared at her over the rim of his glasses and scowled, “I’ve been trying to translate both Latin and Sumerian, Cordelia, both of which are a task in and of themselves. Putting them together is like asking Angel to sort through your shoes and tell you which are designer and which aren’t.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” She asked, erring on the side of snippy at the blatant insult.
“What it means, Cordelia,” he said, in his best snooty English voice, “Is that there are some words to which I don’t have a bloody clue. And then there are others which are only throwing me off the scent a lot. So far, I’ve been able to translate a total of six words from this spell and I speak both languages fluently so if you don’t mind…”
“Geez, Wesley,” Cordelia frowned, “Way to have a cow. I was only asking if you’d happened to figure something out in the last hour. Forgive me.”
Duly chastised, Wesley stepped back and sat down heavily at his desk again, muttering under his breath about strong-willed brunettes and how if they’d just leave him to his own devices this would go a lot quicker.
“What do we need this spell for anyway?” She asked Angel huffily, once Wesley was out of earshot, “Can’t we just ask the demons what they want me for and be done?”
Angel shook his head, “They’re not exactly big on conversation.”
Cordelia rolled her eyes, “Who is these days?” She asked, watching her insult aim right for the heart with Angel and totally miss. The guy was already super-brooding; it wasn’t like she could give him something else to feel guilty over.
“Ahh… I definitely think I have something,” Wesley called from his office, before Angel could put his foot in it with Cordelia any more than he had these past few weeks.
“What is it?” They both asked, Cordelia casting a half-bemused, half-pissed off look at how they’d just sort of fallen into step with the conversing again. She was still a little mad at Angel.
Wesley chewed on the end of his writing pencil, “There’s a chance this spell won’t work at all,” he said after a beat, not glancing up, “I’ve been trying to work out the Latin in relation to the Sumerian but its like–“
“In English please?” Cordelia prompted.
He looked irked but continued nonetheless, “I’m not sure I can summon one, Cordelia. The magicks it involves… And even after that, I’m not honestly sure that we can communicate with it.”
“So what are you saying?” She asked, “I’m screwed until one of these things decides to grab hold of me again and drags me off to its Master’s lair or whatever?”
“Well…”
“No,” said Angel immediately, knowing exactly where Wesley was heading with this whole conversation, “No way, Wes. Not gonna happen.”
“It could be our only option,” said Wesley quietly, ducking his glance to avoid Cordelia’s questioning gaze and shuffling his feet.
Angel shook his head, “We’re not using Cordelia as bait.”
“Bait?!” Cordelia gawped, having a complete flashback to the days of Sunnydale and the vast amount of neck cleavage she’d put on show, “You want to use me as bait?”
“I don’t think you understand the gravity of the situation here,” Wesley pointed out, “Unless we find out what’s hiring these goons to go after you, we’re fighting in the dark. You were lucky you got that vision.”
“Oh, I feel real lucky,” said Cordelia dryly, “What with the Powers setting up shop in my headspace on a regular basis and all. Do the visions look like they tickle, Wesley? ‘Cause I gotta tell you, they really don’t, so don’t try and tell me how grave this all is. I know, okay?”
He looked deflated then. “I didn’t mean to suggest… I’m sorry.”
Cordelia sighed, “I know, Wes. I’m just cranky. I mean, for all I know I could be being stalked by some evil thing that wants to eat my innards or something equally disgusting and all I have to go on is the epitome of vague in the form of a vision. Such a big help from the PTB, huh?” She asked, rolling her eyes skyward.
Was her destructing video tape really such a bad idea? She didn’t think so. And it’d stop that doctor waffling on about hot and cold spots that weren’t of the touristy variety.
“I just… It’s frustrating,” she pointed out, “Especially when I have to admit that maybe you’re right about the bait thing.” She held up a hand to silence any argument from Angel, frowned,
“I’m not happy about it, Angel, but what choice do I have? It’s not like the big freaky whatever that wants to collect on his deal is going to walk right into the hotel, is it?”
“Actually, that’s precisely what the big freaky whatever is going to do,” said a voice from behind them.
Cordelia turned and was met with the bluest pair of eyes she’d ever seen.