10: Jefferson Avenue, Heading North Toward Thousand Oaks Drive
The last thing Cordelia needed was Faith’s advice on handling vampires. Though tongue-in-cheek, Faith’s comments on ‘handling’ Angel did not make her feel any better about patrolling with him. There was obviously some tiny spark inside her that still smoldered each time they were in the same room. Insane, but it was true nonetheless, even after the whole Angelus thing.
Going on patrol with Angel was risky business that had nothing to do with her naturally healthy fear of neck-chomping vampires. Nothing in his behavior suggested she would not be able to trust him to keep her safe out there. Or that he would ever intentionally place her in harm’s way. Her fear had more to do with already trusting him more than she should.
Cordelia had no intention of letting the embers of an old crush flame up again. Close quarters on the library steps during research sessions had caused countless accidental touches. It was not like she planned it, but Angel always responded with that stone-faced expression glowering at her until she moved her hand from his arm, shoulder, or thigh.
Maybe he did not trust her, either. This assignment was bogus and she knew it, but she was not about to let Buffy win by refusing it. “Let’s do it, big guy. I hope you can keep up.”
Without waiting for a response, she darted out the door leaving Angel standing in the middle of the library with a scowl on his face. Giggling at his expression would ruin her exit, so Cordelia held it in as she jogged down the hall despite her heels. Reaching the main exit, she pushed open the door and waited for him to follow. He was taking his time about it, she noted as she leaned up against the bricks of the school building.
A twinge of pain caused her to lift a hand to her side, a gasp catching her breath just as Angel emerged. His eyes flicked down just as Cordelia dropped her hand to her side. Though his gaze turned suspicious, he said nothing, stalking off in the general direction of Restfield Cemetery expecting her to follow.
“Hey, can’t you take a joke?” she called out. Angel was already starting to fade into the shadows, his black clothes blending with the night. “I guess you’ve lost your sense of humor, too. If you ever had one.”
Navigating the stairs, she hustled after him, having to walk fast in order to catch up with his long, steady strides. He stayed just far enough ahead to be out of easy conversation range. Cordelia’s clicking heels sounded along the cement sidewalks until she finally stopped in the middle of the crossroads at Jefferson Avenue and Thousand Oaks Drive. Gathering a deep breath, she shrieked his name.
Angel whirled around and was at her side before the echo faded. “What is it?”
She was breathing heavily, gasping with outrage and just from having to work so hard to follow him. “What the hell do you think you’re doing, you jerk?”
“Testing you,” he answered roughly, making no apology for it.
“This isn’t a tryout,” Cordelia snapped back furiously. “I’ve already made the team and you are my lame-ass partner. Get over it.”
Angel did not budge despite her wild gesturing. Too calmly, he leaned down knowing his height would intimidate her. Pointing out, “My lame ass will be the one saving yours if you’re not ready for this.”
“Pfft. We have no idea what to expect from this prophecy thingie.”
His eyebrow quirked upward giving Cordelia the only answer she needed: that was his point, exactly.
“Oh. I’m ready,” she told him while hoping that was the case. “Besides, I learn fast. Teach me, Obiwan.”
“Teach you what?”
Sigh. “Never mind. Blame me spending too much time with Xander. Just get out of the street,” Cordelia told him while moving back onto the sidewalk. Walking on at a more comfortable pace with Angel now strolling along beside her, Cordelia muttered, “Is it any wonder I have vampire issues. Your fault, of course.”
Angel frowned. “Mine?”
“Duh! I should have known that anyone so hot who was into Buffy Summers had to have something wrong with him,” she commented as they cut through the grassy open field toward the First Presbyterian Church and neighboring Restfield Cemetery. “Evil alter-ego and all.”
He blanked out on her obvious issues with Angelus, his focus immediately drawn to the only positive note. “Hot?”
Pointing out, “That is a term usually reserved for people with a pulse,” Cordelia patted his back. Angel stopped in his tracks mid-field, clearly about to attempt to make a case for his defense. “You can’t help that you’re dead. Everyone has their own problems, but you have an even bigger one…”
Cordelia poked him in the chest. “You lied to me.”
At his puzzled look, she realized he did not have a clue about which lie she was talking about. Convenient much? What was it about guys that allowed them to forget all about their wrongdoings?
“Hello, you let me think you were human,” she accused bitterly. A gruff little sound left her throat. “Lead a girl on and then wham! The truth comes out. You’re all liars.”
She tried to move on, but Angel captured her face in his palm, turning it up so Cordelia was forced to meet his gaze. “Leave your issues with Xander back home. If you have a problem with me take your own advice and get over it.”
Shoving his hand away, Cordelia told him, “Just when I started to trust you again, you did the horizontal mambo with Buffy and turned evil. So I just want to know: why me? I get that you wanted to tick off Buffy by killing one of her friends, but why did you pick me? Willow was closer.”
Angel hesitated in the face of her fury, answering cautiously, “You looked tastier.”
That had such a ring of truth to it. The brooding look that descended over his face caused Cordelia to grin despite him making her mad. A laugh bubbled up. “Oh. Well, duh!”
“I won’t lie to you,” Angel said, standing close, but no longer touching her. “There are things about me that you should fear. I’m a vampire. A part of me will always wonder what you taste like.”
Cordelia’s eyes widened, but he was actually talking and she would take the truth over his somber stoicism any day.
“As long as I have a soul, I’d never deliberately hurt you,” he promised solemnly.
Gazing up into those deep brown eyes, Cordelia answered softly, “Then I guess you’d better not lose it again.”
She felt Angel’s hand on her hip gliding upward and her already wide-eyed gaze stared unblinkingly into his. Her skin shivered as his fingertips slipped under the loose end of her silk blouse to clasp her waist. Squeezing in just the right spot before Cordelia knew what he was up to Angel put just enough pressure on her healing injury to cause her to wince.
“Ouch! You bastard,” Cordelia jerked out away from his touch, pushing at his chest to put some distance between them. “You just promised that you’d never hurt me.”
Angel shoved his hands in his jacket pockets before replying, “I needed to know your vulnerabilities. You’re not a slayer. You heal differently.”
Rubbing her stomach, Cordelia glowered at him. “You could have just asked.”
“Truth works both ways,” he told her. “I thought it best to find out for myself.”
Forging a tentative truce, they continued on to Restfield Cemetery. The quarter-moon lit the tombstones and left the wooded edges of the grounds swallowed by shadows. It was, in a word, creepy. Cordelia clutched her wooden stake, walking along beside Angel, watching to make sure she was not stepping on anyone’s grave.
Giles had made the big speech about signs and whatnot, but it seemed like a whole lot of watching and waiting for something that was not supposed to happen for another few months. “Some council guy finds an old scroll just in time to warn us that a demon is coming to the Hellmouth. Pfft! Welcome to our week.”
“This isn’t just an ordinary demon,” Angel reminded her. “Whatever it is, the Scroll of Septarius describes it as being nearly unstoppable. If it reaches our dimension it would take an army of slayers to defeat it.”
Cordelia gave him a serious nod. “Guess we better stop it, then.” He might have been impressed if the subject had not immediately changed to her mulling over the fact that she should have worn closed-toed shoes instead of sandals.
Restfield had tiny little pebbles mixed in with some of the dirt. When she stopped to pluck one out of her instep, she caught Angel’s wry stare. “I would’ve been fine if we got to patrol the east side.”
Angel said nothing, just offered her a hand as she balanced herself. They moved on a moment later, but hadn’t gone more than a few feet when Cordelia asked, “Do you see anything, cos I don’t see anything.”
“I see just fine in the dark, Cordelia,” he answered flatly.
“Hello, vampire, I know that. I meant do you see a sign? THE sign. You know, the one we’re looking for?”
They had not seen anything more exciting than the grass moving with the subtle shifting of the night breeze. “Bored?”
“No,” she huffed defensively. “I’m just saying I see no ‘walking dead amongst the stones’ hanging around. Prophecy said there would be walking dead and unless it’s talking about you, we’ve got the wrong place.”
They walked past every headstone before Angel finally conceded that it was time to move on to the next cemetery on their patrol route. “We’ll head to Old Sunnydale next, go up to Shady Hill and then head back down to Parkdale.”
“Ugh. Okay. Might as well get it over with,” agreed Cordelia shuddering at the thoughts of Old Sunnydale Cemetery. It had the oldest marked graves in town and contained a large section of broken stones and unmarked plots that dated way back to the town’s earliest settlements.
A fifteen minute walk took them due west closing in on Maple Street. They were near Giles’ house and not so far from the mall, but far enough that the trees blocked her view of the familiar domed roof of her favorite local getaway. With a sigh, she waited as Angel pulled on the heavily rusted iron gate barring their entry into the cemetery.
The hinges squealed and Cordelia cringed at the grating noise because it had to alert anything living or undead inside to their presence. Tucked into a spot that kept it hidden from the traffic, the old cemetery possessed its own personality of sorts. The low ground turned misty when the cooler night air descended lending a haze that deepened shadows as it swirled around the crypts and headstones.
Cordelia knew Angel could tell that this place creeped her out. Her heart had to be playing a bongo beat in his ears by now. She stuck close as ordered. Maybe a little too close. After bumping into him several times when he paused to look at something, she figured she’d better back off a bit.
“What was that?” Cordelia saw movement in the shadows, but Angel was already following the figure as it darted between the trees toward the cover of a large crypt.
“Vampire.”
Gulping, Cordelia nodded, holding her stake at the ready and moving along at a slow pace. Angel gestured for her to hold position. The sound of shuffling leaves drew their attention and before Cordelia could figure out where the danger was coming from the vampire leapt off the top of the large crypt tackling Angel to the ground.
“Oh, crap!” That was not supposed to happen. Cordelia held up her stake and tried to angle around to get at the bad guy. “Hold him steady.”
Angel’s gaze clashed with hers for an instant just before he vamped out. “I told you to stay put,” he counseled her while tossing his scrawnier opponent against one of the marble columns.
“Well excuse me for trying to save you.” Bristling with annoyance, Cordelia stood statue-still as Angel hauled the guy to his feet, wrapped an arm around his neck and twisted. One snap and the vampire was dust.
“There was only one little one,” he pointed out that her involvement only placed her in danger and was hardly necessary. Angel made a little growl of frustration, not even noticing that his game face was still in place as Cordelia reached up to wipe the dust from his jacket.
A search of the crypt and the rest of the cemetery led to no new clues and certainly not anything that looked like a bone relic. Old Sunnydale had nothing to offer. Cordelia was happy to leave it behind and move on to Shady Hill where the hilltop view was actually rather pretty at night when the town lights shone.
Unlike the Restfield cemetery, Shady Hill was a much smaller place, though in aspects no less creepy than Old Sunnydale. It had a history as shady as its name linked to old tales of witchcraft, hangings and ancient burial grounds. They waited there for nearly an hour, spending an equal amount of time here as in the others. Cordelia got the feeling that Angel was also giving her a chance to rest up before they trekked back across town to Parkdale.
“The hour of darkness is at hand,” Angel quoted a line from the prophecy scroll, startling her out of her thoughts.
“Pretty dark,” Cordelia quipped uncertain what he was getting at. “Always is around the Hellmouth.”
His lips quirked into something that was almost a smile. “We shouldn’t overlook that line in the prophecy. It may be vague, but it could also be a clue.”
“If you say so,” Cordelia was not certain about anything except the thought that she actually felt safe sitting here in the dark with the former Scourge of Europe. How weird was that?
This seemed like a good opportunity to get to know Angel a little better. Cordelia figured there was no time like the present. And since he had not told her to shut up or mind her own business so far, he obviously did not mind her asking.
Parkdale was a neatly kept cemetery directly across from City Hall and several local businesses. It neighbored the city park, hence its name. Approaching from the north end of the grounds, they weaved through the granite headstones, looking for anything that resembled a bone relic or a clue.
Angel was mainly looking for some peace and quiet.
Cordelia was starting on his last nerve. If she asked one more question about his past, he was going to lose it. “No, I never ate any famous Americans. I was ensouled by the gypsies before leaving Europe.”
“Oh, so you only ate Europeans,” she sounded disappointed and settled down into the quiet search pattern he had established. Quiet for about half a minute, that is. “Anybody famous?”
There was one particular royal. “Actually,” Angel started to tell her about one gruesome tale since she seemed so interested in hearing him talk.
Shuddering, Cordelia made a face of disgust, “Eeeew! I don’t want details.”
That left him feeling bad about bringing it up and then he started to think about the torture he had inflicted on that victim before finally killing him. His soul ached at the memory of it. How could he possibly expect Cordelia to understand the ongoing conflict inside him at the memory of his victims’ deaths? The triumph, power, and pleasure he had felt at his domination over those he made his prey warred in an internal battle with his conscience.
What was he doing trying to share one of those moments with her and expecting her to comprehend its power? It was as horrifying as her expression suggested.
The distraction of their conversation brought them halfway across the Parkdale grounds before noticing small gathering at the south end of the cemetery. Four suited figures stood around a fresh grave.
“Kinda late for a funeral, isn’t it?” Cordelia asked Angel when they caught sight of the group.
“Vampires.”
Even at four-to-one, Angel figured he could handle it. Though it was impossible to tell if they were all fledglings from this distance, he knew it would be safer if he took care of things on his own. “Stay here,” Angel ordered sternly. The last thing he needed was Cordelia trying to ‘help’ him again.
“And what happens if you get staked?”
Angel glanced back over his shoulder, “Then run like hell.”
“Pfft.” Her soft complaint was followed by a stubborn agreement. “Fine.”
Approaching stealthily, Angel noticed that they were all staring at the new grave, simply waiting for the vampire within to emerge. There was no mistaking these four for human. Even if he could not already sense it, they made no attempt to disguise their true faces.
The turned earth shifted a bit and they seemed to lean in even closer to watch. Angel stepped right up next to them, positioning himself at the foot of the grave. Taking a page from Cordelia’s book, Angel leaned in to grab their attention as he asked, “Is it somebody famous?” After all, he wanted to give them a sporting chance.
