21
Fire filled her lungs, burning her from the inside out.
Cordelia clawed at her throat, leaving scratch marks as she struggled in vain, desperately, furiously trying to get it out of her. It was cold, black as death and devastating.
The senior partner reared back and she saw it all again – the launch of flame, the searing contact, the inferno set ablaze within. Her heart shuddered to a stop, her body convulsing in its final breath –
A clawed hand grasped her face and pressed talons against her temples –
Cordelia gasped, her eyes flying open, heavy breaths escaping her. She clawed at her throat as she had in her dream, the sheet flying off her sweating body, limbs kicking out in fright.
HELP –
“Cordy!” Angel’s voice was close, his arms wrapping around her, ceasing her movement. He fisted a hand in her hair, whispering soothingly against her ear. “It’s okay, it’s alright. It’s over. I’m here.” She was pulled from the nightmare, back into her bedroom, light glimmering through the space between the curtains.
Angel was solid beside her, strong and consoling. It didn’t help.
Cordelia pushed him away, brushed her hair out of her face and stood, shakily. She grabbed the bedpost on her way to the bathroom, her stomach turning a violent cartwheel.
“Cordelia – ”
“I’m fine.” She lied. The bathroom door shut behind her, the contents of her stomach emptying into the toilet.
—
Wesley downed his sixth cup of coffee, tapping his fingers against the desk. He’d been up half the night, having made twelve calls to the Powers, finally getting a response at 4 AM that morning. It had been a startling revelation to say the very least, one that he knew would take some explaining to the girls.
They’d agreed to meet at Cordelia’s house for brunch. Wesley sighed heavily, gathering up his papers and filing them. The second hand of the clock made an odd clicking noise and Wesley looked up at it.
7:30 AM.
He headed towards his bedroom. Some shut eye prior to their meeting would help.
—
She couldn’t breathe.
Cordy gritted her teeth, squeaking slightly but the giant cosmic force that held her in place refused to release her. Her lungs were being crushed and all she could do was flail uselessly with the hand that was trying to shove it away from her.
“Riley…” She tried again, “I can’t…breathe!”
“I don’t care.” Her best friend muttered into her hair. “I’m not letting go until I’m ready.”
He released her eventually, his face red with tension and unshed tears. Angel had made the mistake of calling him once they’d gotten up and dressed, in an effort to gently break news of the traumatic and bizarre events of the night before.
The result was that she’d been unable to breathe since, engulfed in a giant bear hug on the living room sofa.
“I can’t believe it, Cor.” Riley touched her face, her neck, his voice cracking. “Jesus. I just – I can’t even – You need to quit this job already.”
Cordelia smiled then, her hands squeezing his. “I’m fine. I promise.”
Riley swallowed, disbelieving. He knew her better than anyone, she realised, knew she was lying through her teeth but too proud to admit it and yet for the same reason, he of all people knew better than to remind her of what had happened, to patronize or trivialize the situation with admonishment or advice. Instead, he asked, “How’s Angel holding up?”
The question surprised her. “He’s…fine.”
“He watched you die.” Riley choked on the last word, his hands tightening in hers. “I can’t bear to – It must have killed him.”
Cordy was quiet.
Riley stared at her. “He’s in love with you, you know.”
Cordelia swallowed, a thunderstorm of terror and anxiety crackling to life in her stomach. Her eyes clouded over in a manner that was carefully aloof, so much so that Riley looked uncomfortable. “He’s fine.” She said resolutely. “I’m fine. We’re both fine.”
—
“I brought the bagels.”
Faith strolled into Cordelia house at noon, two brown paper bags in her shoulder bag. Buffy, Willow and Xander had shown up earlier with various cold meats and cheeses, the dining table littered with plates, cutlery, cartons of juice and a million fruits and spreads for brunch.
Angel stood beside Riley and the barbecue, shielded by the fabric canopy that had been drawn on his behalf halfway across the pool patio. The smell of bacon and sausages wafted through the air.
Xander flipped an egg on the stove, grinning when Buffy tugged his chef’s hat. “Where did you get that?”
“Found it in the cupboard.” Xander confessed proudly, tapping the hat that said ‘Kiss the Cook’ on it. Obediently, Buffy leaned up on her toes and kissed him.
“Where’s Wes?” Faith asked.
“On his way.” Cordelia put the phone back on the hook, dropping into a seat on the table beside her. “Mmm, that smells good. This whole death thing’s made me so hungry, I could eat a horse.”
The table went silent around her, Xander clearing his throat uncomfortably.
Cordelia rolled her eyes. “You guys are such stiffs.” She bumped Faith with her elbow. “I wanna go out tonight. You have plans?”
Faith’s eyebrows shot up. “Um, apocalyptic goings down at evil law firm ring any bells?”
“That won’t happen tonight.” Cordelia bit into a slice of toast, smeared with marmalade. “We need a couple days to recuperate.”
“So where do you wanna go?” Faith asked, bemused. “Aren’t you…I mean, are you…how do you feel?”
Cordy shrugged. “Fine. Wanna dance. Seize the night and all that jazz. Are you in or out?”
The look she shot Faith was cool and the other girl frowned, nodding lightly. Something felt odd – she didn’t know what, it might have been nothing. Regardless, Cordelia had been through a hellish ordeal and she deserved a break, in whatever form she chose it.
Plus, Faith could keep an eye on her if she was there with her.
“Sure. We can all go. It might be nice to have a night out.”
Wesley chose that moment to ring the doorbell, his shirt and suit crisply pressed, a small smile on his face. If he had been awake half the night, which Faith knew he had, no one would have known it.
When he saw Cordelia, he hugged her, pressing a kiss to her temple. She patted his back lightly, a crack in her strangely stoic armour when he sighed heavily, releasing her.
They helped themselves to brunch, piling their plates with eggs, bacon and bread, fruit, brie and sliced honey-roast. Buffy laughed at something Wesley said, while Willow sneakily took a bite of Xander’s buttered toast. Angel and Cordelia’s fingers intertwined atop the table, her chin resting on his shoulder. Jack stole a sausage from Riley’s plate, making them all laugh.
Faith grinned at the picture they made. Her smile faltered slightly – unable to imagine it without Cordelia. Her eyes darted to her friend, heart warming at the sight of her smiling at Buffy’s sausage/cigar impression. When she thought no-one was watching, her smile dropped, and with it, so did Faith’s.
She couldn’t imagine what Cordelia was going through right now…but something felt wrong. If she watched Cordelia close enough, there was conflict in her expression, fleeting in and out of her eyes, as though she was quietly fighting a battle inside her that no-one else knew about.
Faith shrugged it off. Cordelia would talk to Angel or Riley, or her or Buffy when she was ready.
—
“You’re sure you want to do this in front of everyone?” Wesley asked Cordelia, sitting across from her in the living room. They sat scattered around the large space, brunch now a distant memory as business took priority.
Cordy shrugged. “If you don’t tell them now, they’ll just ask me about it later.”
Willow grinned.
“Very well.” Wesley shifted in his seat, adjusting his glasses. “Er, well, I know we’re all wondering, grateful as we are that Cordelia is safe and with us, how in fact this came to be.” He swallowed, looking only at her. “I’ve spoken to the Powers and well, short of it being a miracle, they have a theory.”
“Which is?”
Wesley cleared his throat, looking at Cordelia, then Angel, then everyone else. “There’s…there’s really no other way to say this -”
“Just say it, Wes.” Cordy said shortly. Angel squeezed her shoulder.
“Yes, alright.” Wesley straightened. “Love. Love is what saved you.”
There was a surprised silence around the table, swiftly broken by Faith. “What the hell does that mean?”
Wesley’s eyes darted to her and then back to Cordelia. “When you came into contact with the blast…when it hit you…what exactly were you doing?”
There was another short silence before Angel responded. “It was aimed in my direction. Cordy saw that and she…she jumped in front of me.” He pulled her hand into his lap. “She saved my life.”
Wesley’s eyes widened and a stern glare was directed Faith’s way. “You neglected to mention that tiny piece of information.”
“What does it mean, Wes?” Buffy asked.
“That I could have had a good night’s sleep.” Wesley muttered, massaging his temples with his hands. “I think…well, as you all know, a senior partner is a corporal representation of evil. The opposite side of the coin. It is totally and wholly evil in its entirety and therefore – ” He looked up at Cordelia suddenly.
Faith raised an eyebrow. “Eureka?”
“It all makes sense…” Willow murmured, quite out of the blue, earning an odd look from Xander.
“Yes,” Wesley said knowledgably. “It does. I presume you’ve heard of similar, albeit rare occurrences in dark magic. Cordy,” He turned to her, “You were willing to sacrifice your life for Angel. Why?”
“Because I love him.” Cordelia answered without hesitation. Riley glanced at her.
“It was an act of love.” Buffy whispered, after a brief, contemplative moment, realization hitting home.
Xander frowned. “That was really strong enough to save her life?”
“Anything as potently and entirely evil as a demon of that calibre cannot fathom even the concept of love. It is a human and perhaps biblically, a divine emotion.” Wesley looked uncomfortable, but continued. “When you threw yourself in front of Angel, you committed a largely selfless act…an act of sacrifice and compassion and…love. It not only saved your life but those combined powers that are only ever associated with the pure and the good destroyed the senior partner from the inside out.”
It was as though a weight had been lifted, a light turned on in heavy darkness. The tension and astonishment that plagued the room eased then, rapidly giving way to understanding and relief.
“The power of love.” Faith grinned at a stunned Angel and Cordelia. “I’m tempted to burst into song.”
Riley smiled at that. “Sounds kinda cheesy, Chase.”
Buffy squeezed Cordelia’s hand. “I’ll take cheese over tearjerkers any day.”
—
“What about the case?”
“I’d intended to discuss it with you this morning but I felt this should take priority.” Wesley said, sliding on his jacket. “Willow and I have made some very important breakthroughs regarding Angel’s case but I’d like some time to go over the finer details without interruption before I present them to you.”
“Fine by me.” Buffy said. “Need some help?”
Wesley smiled. “Never you mind that. You girls head out tonight and enjoy yourselves. I highly think you deserve it.” He opened the door, stepping outside into the sunshine, his eyes squinting. “We’ll confer tomorrow. Oh, Buffy?”
Buffy turned, eyebrows raised.
“Keep an eye on Cordelia.” Wesley instructed, frowning slightly. “She may seem fine but she’s a regular Scully if ever there were one in reality.”
“That’s our Cordelia.” Faith piped up from where she’d rounded the corner, startling Wes and Buffy. “I noticed something off too.”
“Can’t exactly blame her…” Buffy murmured. “She can’t just recover instantly from something like this.”
“No.” Wesley agreed. “But she seems to be pretending she can. A night out with her friends will do her good. Just…look out for her. You never know when she may need it.”
—
The music was relief – sensual and powerful – the same way it made her feel as it pounded through her ears and into her veins. It controlled her movement, every thrust of her hips, sway of her arms, rise and fall of her chest…
Life, breath, sense –
A note screeched in the lullaby and she saw it again, heard the scream, smelled the sewage-soaked death –
Cordelia’s eyes flashed open, sudden agony slicing through her chest. As soon as it appeared, it was gone and she recognised it, hated it because it made her weak.
Fear.
She refused to be a victim, forcing a smirk when Faith tangled their fingers and raised their hands to the sky above them. There seemed to be only men around them, moving closer and closer like moths to a flame, the erotic glimpse of two brunettes gyrating in sync too enthralling to resist a glance, a brush, an opportunity.
Cordelia didn’t mind the attention, found herself liking the power it gave her. She was sexual and beautiful and graceful. So unlike the girl that had been a victim, had fallen defeated into Angel’s arms, had breathed the life out of her battered lungs –
“You’re gorgeous.” Someone whispered in her ear. “Wanna dance?”
“Sorry darlin’,” Faith grabbed her arm and pulled Cordelia towards her. “She’s taken. And before your eyes cross in some sordid fantasy, it ain’t by me. Tall, dark, growly type.”
Laughter burst out of Cordy’s mouth, colour flooded back into her cheeks, the tension fading – it would be back, she knew, she’d have to face it and fight it before it consumed her but for now it disappeared, a grin sliding onto her face when Faith winked in her direction. She was wanted and beautiful, powerful and in control again. Her body rocked to the music, hips twirling in a way that made tongues drop around her.
Speaking of tall, dark, growly types…
She noticed Angel enter the club a few yards away, his hands in the pockets of his leather jacket and a clear wince on his face at the pounding beat of the music. He’d abandoned his regular suit at the office, she noticed, having made an effort to be dressed now in evening all black, delicious leather pants, much like her own, and a t-shirt under the coat.
Cordelia meandered through the maze of watching men, headed off the dance floor and jogged a quick sprint through the crowd, launching herself into Angel’s arms. He caught her easily, supporting her weight, her legs going around his waist, arms around his neck.
“Hey stranger.” Cordy murmured, grinning when he shifted, bringing her closer. “How’s your dance card?”
“I don’t dance.” Angel said with a frown, the low timbre of his voice licking shivers at the base of her spine. He glanced behind her, his frown deepening. “I saw you making friends.”
“Them?” She grinned, flipped her hair over her shoulder. “Boys! I like you.”
Angel’s face remained impassive, though his hands tightened on her ass.
Cordelia stifled a snort, brushing a thumb over his lip. “I’m a one-man woman, sweetheart. They’re all Faith’s.” She tightened her limbs around him, her eyes sparkling with humour as she nibbled his lower lip. “One of them *was* kinda cute though…”
Angel glared at her, kissed her hard on the mouth and then dropped her swiftly. Cordy gasped as her feet hit the ground, smacking him in the chest.
“You two wanna save it for the bedroom?” Riley yelled behind them, annoyance in his expression as he handed Angel a beer. “Geez, what is it with the straddling? Swimming pools, dance clubs, moving cars…”
Angel did a double take, staring at Cordelia. She bit her lip guiltily, flushing to her toes. “He’s my best friend! I tell him everything!”
“Regardless of the fact that his ears bleed, Every. Single. Time.” Riley deadpanned, a plastic smile stretched wide on his face.
Cordy rolled her eyes. “Whatever, I’m heading back to the dance floor.” She faced Angel then, grabbing his hands and pressing her body lithely against his in a way that was intended to make succumb. The look she shot him was coy. “You sure you wanna let me go out there all by myself?”
He cocked his head, a half annoyed, half smug expression on his face. “Yeah, I’m good.”
She pouted, glared defiantly – something hot flaring inside her – then shrugged. “Your loss.”
And then she was gone, back through the crowd and beside Faith once again, falling into step with the other woman. Angel had to admit, the picture was inviting, Cordelia’s hair thrown back, her face flushed, her body rhythmic and undulating. She moved as though she was born to do so, her hips swaying mesmerizingly, her hands and arms brushing her hair, neck and waist.
Men flocked back, to and around her, keeping their distance but making no secret about enjoying the view. Angel’s jaw hardened, yellow flashing behind his eyes.
Riley smirked. “Shoulda pulled out your suede shoes, old man.”
“Bite me.”
“I thought we covered that I don’t do that?”
—
Buffy curled further into Xander’s arms, her head resting against his shoulder as they moved to the music. He was warm against her cheek, the smell of soap and the rum he’d drunk a little earlier surrounding her. She kissed his chin, delighting when his lips dropped to hers, sweeping her off her feet a litter higher.
“You guys realise this isn’t a slow dancing song, right?”
Willow’s voice made her smile and she looked up, grinning at her friend. “Any chance I get to grope Xander…”
Willow made a face. “Too much information. Even Angel refused to slow dance to this, though I think Cordy’s mad at him for it.”
“She’ll get over it. Come here.” Xander said to her, bringing her into his free side, his arms sliding around both their shoulders. “I think you should move here, Will.”
“Sure.” Willow said dryly. “It’s not like I have work or commitments or – ”
“My two favourite girls in the same place.” Xander interrupted her, and Willow was instantly placated by the statement. He sighed. “Awesome.”
“Speaking of commitments…” Buffy smirked, her tongue between her teeth, “When do we get to meet Tara?”
Willow didn’t get to respond because Xander’s outraged and somewhat high-pitched shriek came first.
“What the HELL is Cordelia doing?”
—
It was back, that sinking feeling – she didn’t know why it wouldn’t disappear.
Vibrations hammered through the floor and up through Cordelia’s feet, loosening her anxious limbs as the music blared. It wrapped around her seductively, intoxicating like a drug, one that fuelled the fire inside – that of hatred and anger and weakness and resent.
They tried to understand, she could see it in their eyes – their pained, concerned eyes – but they couldn’t. Not really. None of them barring Angel could have known or imagined how it felt and yet she hadn’t wanted to talk to him either. She’d wanted to dance, though the bastard had refused, wanted to wrap her arms around him and grind her body against his – to feel safe and protected by his arms and writhe until she could no longer feel her feet.
Or the shattered shards of her soul that sliced her apart from the inside out.
Cordy’s eyes flashed open again, hands in her hair, eyes on the ceiling. Strobe lights swarmed her vision and she nearly choked for a moment, blue lightning fire streaking behind her eyelids, the pain of it as real now as it was then.
She was sick of it already. Damsel, victim, weakling – she didn’t wear any of them well. She didn’t want to.
She wouldn’t.
The voice from before, the same man Faith had shooed away, spoke into her ear again. “Dance with me.”
She turned, the air shifting, something vague and fleeting hitting her senses. The inky haired man with brilliant blue eyes put his arms around her before she’d had a chance to grasp it, before she had a chance to gasp indignantly or kick his ass.
He grinned toothily, his eyes conveying lust as he dropped his hands to her waist. They flashed and Cordelia blinked – a beat, two – her heart jumping into her throat, understanding. A smirk curled her lips and when he pulled her closer she didn’t resist, only grinned back at him, hiding the dawning in her eyes by closing them. He moved closer and she spun around again, her hands raking through her hair, body shimmying against his.
—
On the dance floor next to her, Faith stopped moving.
Riley’s jaw dropped, his eyes darting to Angel’s, while Buffy, Willow and Xander stepped away from the bar and closer to the scene.
Cordelia pressed her butt to the guy’s front, her eyes closed as though lost, her hips alive and grinding, body hot and vibrating against the stranger’s.
Angel’s fist tightened against his side, anger whipping back on a hot, white leash and striking his chest. He watched her bite her lip, watched her bend her knees and dip slightly, watched her allow the guy to trail his fingers along her thigh –
The beer bottle in his hands shattered, shards of glass stabbing into his palm.
Cordelia stopped dancing, her head down, eyes on no-one. Without a word, she turned and headed towards the back exit, her dance partner following her closely.
Angel wasn’t far behind.
—
None of them were prepared for what they encountered outside.
Gone was the pretty-boy faced stranger from earlier, his visage contorted into the true face of a vampire, fangs glazed and lusty as he swung at Cordelia. He caught her in the jaw and she stumbled back, dodging a punch to her right and kicking her boot into his hip.
“Cordelia!” Buffy leapt forward, screeching to a halt when the brunette stuck her hand out, inches from her face.
“Don’t.” Cordelia breathed through her teeth. “This is my kill.”
Angel watched her eyes, feral and void, hatred blazing bright and fury seething so potently from every pore, he could smell it in the space between them. She was wild, desperate and vengeful, her leg rising in an arch as she kicked the vampire into the alley wall, launched herself at him and kneed him in the stomach.
She was pushed back by the punch he threw, nails catching her cheekbone and leaving a bloody graze. She flattened her palm and in a short, deft movement, shoved it forward, breaking his nose. The vampire howled, rearing back and Cordelia seized the opportunity, lashing out with her foot. It caught his shin, then his kneecap, pushing it back at an awkward angle till it snapped.
Faith chewed her lip worriedly, flinching at the crack that rippled through the air. “Anyone else think she’s carrying this out a little longer than necessary?”
“What’s the big deal? Death to all vamps.” Riley shot a look in Angel’s direction. “Er, no offense.”
Angel wasn’t listening. Cordelia’s heart was hammering in his ears, and not just from adrenaline and exercise – fear and loathing was leaking off her in waves, tears slipping from bitter, angry eyes.
He felt sudden and devastating guilt – he should have smelled the vampire, should’ve danced when she’d asked him to, should have done *something* to help her. He should have known something was very wrong but he’d been too wrapped up in other emotions to concern *this* possibility – shock, jealousy, outrage –
The vampire went down, ready for the killing and yet Cordy continued to kick him, dropping to his chest and pounding his head into the ground with her hands. When he slipped into unconsciousness, when the back of his head, bloody and beaten, came away in flakes and bits on the pavement, Cordelia stopped. She flicked her wrists, twisting his neck and breaking it.
She breathed heavily, wiped her face with the back of her hands and rose.
Silence was deafening in the alley, her friends unsure of what to say, how to take in what they’d just witnessed.
Finally, Angel spoke, staring at the dusty ground, his eyes darting between it and his girl. “You knew he was – ?”
“Yeah.”
“Then…Cordy…” Riley took a step forward. “Why didn’t you – ?”
Her eyes were lethal, indifferent and uncaring. “I wanted to kill him myself.”
“You can say that again…” Xander muttered.
Buffy swallowed, reaching out and then dropping her hands uselessly to the side. “We didn’t realise…we just thought you were trying to make Angel jealous.”
Cordelia’s head snapped up, and instantly, they all knew it was the wrong thing to say. She stared at them incredulously, looking repulsed, her eyes flashing with deadly, black anger. “Oh, well that’s great! I died and came back a whore.”
She gritted her teeth, glaring daggers and storming forward, trying to brush past all of them while her shoulders stood rigid and furious, her heart slamming wildly against her ribcage.
“Cordy – ” Angel just managed to catch her wrist as she walked past him. “Wait. Cordelia, I don’t think she meant – what is the matter with – ?” His eyes widened when she spooked, started as suddenly as a skittish deer would and attempted to pull away, struggling somewhat violently. Angel held on tight, blocking the blow she threw his way and pulling her towards him when she would have run in the other direction.
“Get off! Let go of me!” Her voice tore out of her as though belonging to a wounded animal, her eyes glimmering and watery. Cordy’s lip trembled and she shook, her fists connecting with his arms as she tried to jerk viciously away from him. She punched and pounded but Angel was far stronger and he held on tight, taking each beating, some painful, others barely felt.
He’d never let her go.
One hand cupped the back of her neck while the other caught her shoulder, bringing her firmly into his body.
It was then that Cordelia broke, as though something splintered and burst inside of her, the anger flooding out of her and freeing her clenched fists and unyielding body. She latched onto his shirt and sobbed, her face burying against the base of his throat as she cried it out, let go of the pain and the rage, her body no longer antagonised with it. Angel’s arms tightened around her, supporting her weight, his hands stroking her hair and rising to her cheek, thumb brushing away any tears it made contact with.
Beside him, he saw Buffy bite her lips, her eyes gleaming. Faith had a sombre expression on her face that mirrored Riley’s as they stood, sadly, impotently. For a long while, all that could be heard was Cordelia’s anguish, muffled against Angel’s shirt, the gentle, soothing whispers that escaped him and the clear, untainted sound of silence.