Part 5
SATURDAY MORNING
Willow set a plate of pancakes on the kitchen table before turning back to the stove to help Buffy with the bacon. At the table, a showdown straight from the Wild West was taking place.
Dawn, Emma, and Kayla had forks at the ready. Staring the others down, each girl was intent on taking as many of the pancakes as possible. As all were about to lunge at them, a fourth fork swooped down and speared three of them.
“Spike!” Dawn shouted. “What gives? Put those back!”
Spike stuck his tongue out at her as he drowned the pancakes in maple syrup. “Not a chance, pet. I’m peckish.”
Dawn huffed in annoyance. “There’s a pint of O positive in the crisper with your name on it. Now leave the people food to the people. Not like you need it anyway.”
“True,” Spike conceded. “But sometimes a vamp just gets the hankering for something other than the usual liquid fare. Besides, I like bugging the piss out of you.”
“Hey!” Buffy admonished. “Watch the language!” The Slayer set another plate down that was full of bacon.
As Dawn hurried to gather up some of the meat, Kayla and Emma stared skeptically at the demon sitting across the table. It was finally Kayla that answered the big question.
“He isn’t going to bite us, is he?”
“Only if you want me to.” Spike wiggled his eyebrows at the lovely young ladies. He was pleased they didn’t look overly disgusted.
“If he does try to bite you, just slap him,” Buffy advised. “The thing with Spike is that he’s ninety percent bark and only ten percent bite.” Buffy ignored Spike’s growling and threw him a blood packet. The growls subsided as the vampire poured the blood into a nearby glass.
“So where is Hannah?” Dawn asked.
“She’s still in the shower,” Emma answered. “We’ve been running ever since Merrick’s escape. Not much time to worry about hygiene.”
Willow set a basket of biscuits on the table. “So I guess Angel is…was…a well known figure in your clan.”
“Very much so,” Kayla said. “He’s well known to all the branches of the clan. And just for the record, there are other groups of O’Hara’s out there. There’s one in Georgia. Another in Michigan and one in Washington.”
“But it was your group that was chosen to have the Keeper?” Buffy asked.
“Not quite. Each of the four groups has a Keeper of the Magick, but Hannah is the Matriarch of them all. It is she that is blessed by Hecate and Daphne. It is Hannah that then dispenses power to the other three. By coming after Hannah, Merrick is going after the source of the power.”
Emma continued the story. “After Angel defeated Merrick eighty years ago, we had finally thought that the clan was safe. But seeing that Merrick is now loose, that proved to be a wrong assumption.”
“Why didn’t you seek shelter from another group of your clan?” Willow asked.
“Because Hannah knew they couldn’t protect her, so she decided not to endanger them. She thought the best course of action would be to find the legendary protector of the clan. Angel,” Emma concluded.
“Everyone in the clan knows of the vampire with a soul,” Kayla said. “He is nearly as revered as the clan Matriarch.”
Buffy smiled slightly. “So Angel has groupies. Go figure.” The doorbell sounding drew everyone’s focus.
“That had better be either Xander, Giles, or the mailman, because we are all out of vacancies.” She noticed Emma and Kayla staring at her curiously. “No offense. We adore your company.”
“Uh, okay.”
Buffy weaved her way past all the chairs and trotted to the front door to see who it was. Expecting Xander at best or this Merrick fellow at worst, Buffy was to say the least shocked by who appeared at the door.
“Well, this is a …surprise.”
Wesley’s response was a mere tip of the head and a demure, “Buffy.”
Wow. Wesley had undergone one of those Celebrity Makeovers that Buffy saw on TV every once in a while. Gone was the nerdy tweed. In was the earth tones and stubble. God help her, but Wesley looked good.
“Been a while,” Buffy started hesitantly. Wesley nodded that it was. “What brings you back to Sunnydale?”
“Angel,” he said simply.
Damn. Buffy didn’t recall Angel ever having so many people looking for him. He turned into a real popular dead guy.
“What makes you think he’s here?” Buffy wasn’t sure she should let Wesley in. After all, Angel had purposely left Los Angeles. She didn’t know if he would appreciate it if a piece of LA came to him.
“I know he’s here.”
“Why do you want to see him?” Shit. That was an acknowledgement that he was really here. Smooth, Buff.
“I’ve been sent to bring him back.”
“By whom?”
“Cordelia.” So, Cordelia was the reason he was here. Interesting. “Don’t make me move you,” Wesley warned softly upon her hesitation.
Oh, he did not just say that. “What makes you think you could move me?” Before Buffy could even blink, Wesley had jerked her right arm behind her back and was poised to snap her wrist in a millisecond.
“Now,” Wesley breathed into her ear. “How about you be a good girl and call him down.”
“Okay,” Buffy squeaked. “Angel! You got company!”
***
This wasn’t what he wanted. It certainly wasn’t what he needed, either.
When Angel left Los Angeles over two weeks earlier, he was a confused and depressed wreck of a man. That hadn’t changed, expect now for the fact that he was expected to protect the world from a monster hell bent on destruction.
Angel’s brows furrowed. Now that he thought about it, that much hadn’t changed either.
All he wanted was time. Time to forget about the girl that betrayed him. That and a bottle of bourbon to indefinitely ease his sorrows. With his luck, he should have figured that he wouldn’t find either one.
Angel was a complete and utter dumbass to believe that he could find the solace and time that he needed to collect his thoughts. This was the bloody Hellmouth. Why did he come here? Because it was familiar? Because he idly hoped Buffy might be able to keep his attention? Nah. Angel was still leaning to the complete and utter dumbass thing.
He reached to the bedside table and grabbed his wallet. Angel slowly opened it up to reveal its contents. There was a little used MasterCard. A small slip of paper containing the number for a Wicca who excelled in numbing spells was tossed aside. Then he got to the pictures.
The first was a studio shot of a baby Connor. Gunn and Fred had taken the child out on a daytrip and had a set of photos taken at Sears. The next was a photo of Gunn and Fred. They were still happy then. It was before the incident with the professor. Gunn had long ago told him about that.
The next was an old shot of he, Cordelia and Wesley. It was taken not long after the Watcher had joined the group. He flipped to the next one. It was by far his favorite.
Cordelia. He had found this one after his return from the ocean depths. Moving her belongings to the hotel, he had happened upon a box of photographs. It was a couple years old. Her hair was still shoulder length and brunette. She wore a whisper of a smile. She was caught off guard by the camera. Angel could tell by the twinkle of mischief in her eye.
Instinctively, his hand reached over to the table and found his cell phone. Not many people can claim to have invented a science. But Angel could. He knew just when to call the office so that no one was there. When the only thing that would answer him would be the machine. His thumb punched in the familiar numbers. Holding the phone to his ear, Angel waited for the voice.
“Hello! This is Angel Investigations! We help the helpless! The office is empty at the moment, so we would appreciate if you would leave your name and vital information so one of our associates can respond to you at the earliest convenience. Thank you.”
Angel smiled softly at the recorded voice. He had dialed at this time every day for the past two weeks. But unlike the previous days, something unexpected happened.
Someone picked up.
“Hello? Hello?” Angel’s eyes widened instantly at the voice. Oh shit. This wasn’t supposed to happen. Angel flipped the disconnect button and deactivated the phone. Even though he didn’t need the breath, Angel’s panted heavily from nervousness. He couldn’t talk to her, he just couldn’t. He wasn’t ready.
“Angel! You got company!”
Angel perked at the sound of Buffy’s voice. Something was up. She sounded strained. Angel reached under the bed and grabbed one of his stake holsters. Strapping it to his wrist, Angel cautiously followed Buffy’s voice downstairs.
***
Cordelia clutched the phone to her cheek. She had finally caught it. Every day for two weeks the phone had rang at this time. Today was the first time she had been able to get to the phone fast enough. And despite the dial tone that greeted her, Cordelia Chase knew exactly whom it was that had called.
For the first time in weeks, she felt hope invading her soul. He hadn’t forgotten about her. He hadn’t completely broken off from her. He had called.
“Angel,” she smiled.
***
Angel stopped halfway down the stairs. It was then that he saw Wesley standing at the bottom holding Buffy, for lack of a better word, hostage. The rest of the gang sprinted from the kitchen to see the sight as well. But unlike the others who were extremely concerned, Angel felt nothing but vague annoyance.
“Wesley,” he greeted. “You look good. I trust everything is well.”
“It is,” Wesley assured. “How about you?”
“Life sucks,” Angel answered bluntly. “Now how about you let go of Buffy and we can talk up here in private?”
Wesley pretended to ponder that for a moment. “Very well.” He released Buffy and withstood her withering look. “Sorry about that. Hope I didn’t break anything.”
“Whatever,” Buffy murmured. She rubbed her wrist tenderly and limped towards the kitchen. Wesley vaguely stated another half-hearted apology and followed Angel upstairs. When the pair entered Angel’s bedroom, Wesley courteously began with small talk.
“I noticed that the house seemed full. A few faces I recognized, including that of your evil grandchilde, Spike.”
“Yeah, he’s got a soul now.” Angel reached under the bed and pulled a bottle of whiskey and some plastic cups from his duffle bag. He poured a couple shots in each and handed one to Wesley. He graciously accepted the drink as he considered that bit of information.
“A soul? Really?” Angel nodded. “Well, doesn’t that add a whole new dimension to the Shanshu thing.”
“I guess it does,” Angel admitted. “I hadn’t really given it much thought.”
“You probably wouldn’t. I imagine you’ve been preoccupied with more pressing matters than some vague prophecy.”
“I have.” The room fell silent as both men sipped the whiskey. It was now apparent that preliminary talks were over. Being the Isle’s gentlemen that they were, it was only proper to make chitchat over a drink.
But now it was time to move on to the main discussion. Being the host, it was Angel’s prerogative to decide who would have the opening salvo. Angel took the initiative.
“I’m not coming back.”
Wesley sighed softly. “I figured as much.” Wesley downed the last of the whiskey and set the cup aside. “You do realize I can’t just walk away.” Angel did. “If I were to go back to Los Angeles empty handed, Cordelia would be disappointed.”
“Let her be disappointed,” Angel answered roughly. “I’ve got more important things on my plate than placating her.”
“Would those more important things have anything to do with those two lovely young ladies I noticed downstairs?”
“Three.” Wesley looked confused for a moment. “Three lovely young ladies. The third was in the shower I believe.”
“Ah.” Wesley paused a moment and tried to collect his thoughts. Wesley had entered Sunnydale with the belief that Cordelia would be the only issue that he would need to negotiate. Apparently he was mistaken. These three girls had thrown a kink in the process.
Not that Wesley was upset. Just because the fact might impede his ability to quickly vacate this leafy little hamlet.
“She misses you.”
Pause. “Of course she does.”
Wesley sighed again. “Angel, will you stop being a bloody wanker? I swear to God that you are acting like a typical American.”
“Hey! Why am I being yelled at! She’s the one that fucked my kid!” Angel was now on his feet and moments from vamping out.
“Because you’re being a little prick!” Wesley answered back. He was on his feet as well, and the two men were in a heated stare down. “The fact that Cordelia had sex with Connor is quickly becoming an irrelevant fact. What is becoming an important fact is that Cordelia is in pain, spiraling towards depression, and you don’t seem to care. It seems to me that this has a vaguely familiar ring to it.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” Angel snarled.
“Your abandonment of Cordelia in time of a situation that you couldn’t deal with.”
“Oh, fuck you, Wesley. Do not even try to place the blame for this on me. If anything it should fall on Cordelia more so. Yeah, the whole renegade thing inspired by Darla was a mistake and a bad one. But Cordelia saw the mistakes that I made, and yet that didn’t stop her from making the same damn ones. Namely the one about pushing away the people that loved her.
“She made this mess, Wesley. She looked me in the eyes, she told me that she loved me, then she fucking killed my soul. My God Wesley, I loved her with all my heart and she destroyed me. I would love to care right now, Wesley, I truly would, but somehow I can’t muster up the strength. Because right now, I have to deal with some demon trying to sap the magick from an uber-Wicca, so I do not have the time to deal with Cordelia and my illegitimate grandkid.”
Now Wesley really was confused. “Grandkid? What the hell are you talking about?”
“What do you mean what am I talking about? Cordelia’s baby.”
Wesley was silent for a moment. “That child isn’t Connor’s. It can’t be.”
Angel stared at him strangely. “Did someone forget to tell you about the birds and bees at Watcher-boy school, Wes? Last time I checked, fucking results in babies.”
“True, but at Watcher-boy school we learned that typical human gestation was nine months. Cordelia slept with Connor in November. Cordelia gave birth in April. How’s your arithmetic?”
“Six months,” Angel whispered. Cordelia had returned in September. She would had to be pregnant upon her return.
“And speaking of your hell spawn, you might be interested to know that he hasn’t been seen since, well, since you decided to leave. What I find most interesting is the fact that she doesn’t seem nearly as concerned about him as she did about you.”
Angel was silent. “That doesn’t make any difference,” he whispered. “I’m not ready to forgive.”
This was growing tiresome. “Of course you’re not. I forgot your nasty habit of being a stubborn asshole. Let me see if I can simplify this for you. Cordelia needs you. And I don’t mean that if the simplistic human sense of the word. I mean she needs you, you bloody ignorant douche bag.
“You have never seemed to truly realized how important you are to Cordelia. This is something I have seen for years, but I don’t ever believe I can truly understand it. To Cordelia, you are as necessary as oxygen or water or food. You are vital to her survival. I saw it clearly when you went on the previously mentioned renegade mission. I saw it again when the visions began to kill her. Her purpose on this plane has always been to be by your side and help those that needed helping and to see the day where you would become human. She needs you in her life, Angel. But more importantly, it comes down to a simple point. She needs you to need her. Without that, she doesn’t have a purpose in life. She might as well be dead.
“Angel, the past few weeks have seen a rapid decline in her well being. She rarely eats, she doesn’t sleep. All she does is sit in the rocking chair you bought her with her child, recounting to the baby epic tales of your heroism while wondering when you will come home to her.”
Wesley couldn’t recall ever seeing Angel cry before, but he was now. Silent tears trailed down the vampire’s face as he stared off at some distance point in space. He could see resolve breaking. He was going to give.
“I thought Connor would take care of her,” Angel whispered. Wesley remained silent. Angel needed to say this. Wesley wanted to hear it. “I thought the child was his. I thought he would stay and…God, I don’t know what the hell I thought. I just didn’t want to be there. It hurt too fucking much. I thought Connor had given her the one thing I never could. A family.”
Angel fell backwards and sat on the edge of the bed. Tears continued to fall down his cheeks. He reached to the table and started to pour himself another drink. When he brought the cup to his lips he found that he couldn’t swallow. This stuff wasn’t helping. He set the cup aside and then put the cap back on the bottle. Putting the liquor out of sight, Angel made a proposition.
“If you help me stop this demon threatening those girls, I’ll talk to Cordelia.” Wesley glanced at him skeptically. “I will,” Angel vowed. “And I won’t make a fight about it.”
Wesley smiled slightly. This was a good start. Hell, it was a great start. “So,” he started. “You said something about a demon?”
***
A few minutes after Wesley’s arrival saw Xander and Giles’ appearance. The tale of the previous night’s debacle was recounted so that the newcomers could be brought up to speed. Xander vaguely paid attention to the story.
Concentrating on macking with the ladies, his attention was only brought back to topic with the mention of Wesley.
“Nerd boy is here?” Xander asked. “Is he all tweedy and cowery?”
Buffy blushed slightly and avoided the question. Willow, however, did not. “He was here, but the tweed and cower factor definitely wasn’t. Did you see that leather jacket?” she asked to Dawn. Dawn had. “That was a great jacket.”
“Don’t forget how he intimidated Buffy,” Dawn added. She ignored the scathing look Buffy sent her way.
“Wesley?” Giles asked incredulously. Buffy nodded in embarrassment. “Interesting,” was all Giles said. Turning to the three young ladies he asked, “Now you say that you are members of the O’Hara clan of gypsies? That’s fascinating. I’ve heard much of your people’s power. And it is Angel that protected your people from this demon? I must say, the irony of the fact is obvious.”
“So we’ve been hearing,” Hannah said. “And while I would love to hear about Angel’s prior history with various gypsy clans, I would appreciate at the present time some insight into how Merrick was able to escape his confines.”
“The answer should be fairly obvious.” The occupants of the overflowing kitchen turned to find Wesley and Angel quietly observing the group.
“And what is the answer?” Hannah asked.
Wesley stepped forward and leaned against the doorframe. In a quiet and self-assured voice that the Scoobies were unfamiliar with, Wesley went about explaining his theory.
“Angel took the time to explain the situation you find yourselves in. It’s interesting. A Necklar has hunted down and annihilated your entire group. While I could care less about your plight, I have made a promise to a lady, and it would seem helping you would be a means to an end.”
“Brutal honesty,” Hannah commented. “That’s admirable, even if your motives are questionable. But please continue.”
“Thank you,” Wesley answered dryly. “As I was about to say, there are certain breeds of demon in the world with the power to manipulate or channel mystical energies. They are called molders. What little research there is on Necklars would indicate that particular species are molders.
“Some demons are able to convert energy into various forms such as heat, light, and electrical.” Wesley paused as he let that last bit sink in. “Other demons have the ability to absorb mystical energy to boost their own strength. Now, let us put two and two together, shall we?”
Hannah immediately understood. “Merrick absorbed enough of the energies surrounding the cave to the point where he could cause an electrical storm to break through the final barriers.”
“You already came up with the answer?” Willow asked disappointed. “I wanted to wow them with my advanced knowledge of the black arts. Damn you! Damn you and your fancy British education!” The others just stared in shock at the outburst.
Spike used the distraction to steal a sausage link from Emma’s plate. “Did I say that aloud? I meant to think it. Just ignore me.”
“Gladly,” Wesley deadpanned.
“So I guess this is bad, huh?” Dawn asked.
“It is,” Hannah confirmed. “Eighty years ago Angel was barely able to score a victory over Merrick even with the power of the clan infused in him. And now, it is Merrick whose strength is increased by the clan magick. This could get bad.”
“Eighty years ago you didn’t have me to join the fight,” Spike said around a mouthful of sausage. “And you didn’t have the strongest Slayer in history, nor did you have the baddest Uber-Wicca in the western hemisphere. A fight might be a lot closer than you think, love.”
“Record this moment, because I find myself in agreement with Spike,” Buffy said. She ignored Spike sticking his tongue out at her. “Eighty years ago you just had Angel. But this is Sunnydale. This is my town. And here, you cause trouble, and you mess with all of us.” Each of the Scoobies enthusiastically vocalized their support.
Hannah was touched at the support these strangers promised. When they arrived in town, Hannah had doubts about whether Angel could protect them. But here was a Slayer, a witch, and even another vampire offering protection. It was more than she expected.
“So, what is the strategy?” Hannah asked.
Angel spoke softly from his spot behind Wesley. “The strategy is that you never leave my sight until this is finished. During the day you will stay here so that Spike and I can protect you girls. During the night, you can add Buffy to your list of company. If one of us gives you an order in regard to your well being, you will accept it without question. Understood?”
“Yes.”
“As for the battle plan, every free moment will be spent collecting whatever data there is about Necklar demons. From what we find, and from my prior experience dealing with Merrick, we will develop a plan to defeat him as swiftly as possible. Does that sound suitable to you?”
“It does.”
“Good. Then let’s get to work.”
***
Charles Gunn stood quietly in the doorway and watched. Cordelia looked out the window into the bright Los Angeles morning as she sang softly to her child. The rhythmic motion of the rocking chair was nearly enough to put him to sleep just by watching. But Cordelia’s voice prevented that from happening.
“Have you heard from Wesley?”
Gunn smiled softly. No matter how silent he tried to be, Cordelia always knew when he was present. “Not yet. But it’s only been thirty-six hours since you sent him on this little mission. Give him time.”
“I’m tired of giving it time. I want to do something.”
Gunn sighed in frustration. They had this discussion last night. Now all he had to do was remember his lines. “Cordelia, there is nothing for you to do. Until Wesley calls with some info, all any of us can do is sit and wait. And he will call. We both know that.”
Cordelia chuckled slightly. “I’m still amazed at your renewed confidence in Wesley. I thought you would go down hating him to your grave.”
“Well, English vindicated himself during that whole apocalypse deal we had. Believe me, I would have loved nothing better than to hate him for eternity after what he pulled against Angel. But after what he did for you, I can’t find it in my heart to do that. Now I ain’t saying that I’m gonna be sending him fruit baskets expressing my love, but the dude earned my respect.”
“Glad to hear it.” Cordelia began to coo at the baby when it gurgled anxiously. “But I still wish there was something I could do.”
“There is.” Cordelia looked at Gunn curiously. “Get some sleep. You probably haven’t slept ten hours since that baby’s been born. How about you hand the little tike over to Uncle Gunn so that momma can get some beauty rest?” Cordelia was about to object. “That wasn’t an option. Girl, don’t make me drug you. Don’t think I won’t. I’ve been reading medical books for just such an occasion.”
The fire in Cordelia’s eyes extinguished quickly. Gunn knew that wouldn’t be the case with the old Cordelia. But this was a completely different beast he was dealing with. Hopefully the fire in her eyes would return once Angel came home.
As Gunn took the baby into his arms and guided Cordelia to bed, he hoped silently that Wesley would call soon.
***
Gunn flipped shut his cell phone and double-checked the wiring to the explosives. “We’re on the clock people! Gwen says that Big Bad is on Ninth and moving this way fast!”
Fred and Faith spread the necessary herbs about as they chanted a few Latin phrases to prepare for the ritual. Wesley flipped open his tome and found the necessary incantations to remove Angel’s soul. The vampire stood in the center of the warehouse quietly as he waited. The Urn of Lordoth, the vessel that would contain his soul, rested in front of him. In his hands was the Blade of Hefnar, a mystical sword that could pierce the Beast’s body.
Cordelia watched him from a crate next to the access tunnels leading underground. Connor paced nervously behind her, not understanding why he couldn’t just take Cordelia away now instead of waiting for this damn spell.
Gunn’s cell phone rang again. After a few seconds of listening, Gunn shouted out the next warning. “That was Lilah! He’s on Fifth and charging hard! We need to do this thing now!” He looked expectantly at Wesley. After a few moments, Wesley decided it was time.
“Connor, Fred, Gunn, escort Cordelia to the tunnels. Faith, stand by in case something gets fucked up. Now go!”
Cordelia cast a last long look at Angel before she allowed herself to be escorted down the access tunnels. She tried to shake the feeling, but her soul told her she needed to memorize the curves and lines of his face. Something about the moment said this might be the last time she saw him.
Wesley’s recital of Latin was the last sound she heard before disappearing beneath.
