Chapter Seventeen:
Wesley walked out of the bedroom, straight into an angry vampire.
“Um, Angel, well.” Wesley stuttered. He wondered how much the vampire had heard, but judging from his expression he would guess all.
“Why?” Angel growled.
“Angel, she had to know, we couldn’t wait until she remembered on her own.”
“She won’t ever trust me now.”
“She will trust you, Angel. But hopefully, this will stop her from throwing herself in your arms every time one of you gets upset.”
Angel just glared at him.
Wesley tried again. “She needed to realize the danger of your attraction for each other. Don’t bother to deny it,” he said holding his hand up. “Angel, we both know how close Angelus is to the surface when it comes to Cordelia. Believe me it was for the best.”
Angel gave the ex-watcher a hard look and then left the apartment.
Angel traveled angrily along the rooftops. He couldn’t believe that Wesley told Cordelia about Angelus. There was not any need to scare her like that. There was no danger of him losing his soul. None, Angelus just came out that last time, because he needed to teach Lindsay a well-deserved lesson. It had nothing to do with his feelings for Cordelia.
Of course, he was happy that she was alive; she was his best friend and his seer. He needed her. But he would have been just as happy, if Wesley returned from the dead under the same circumstances. A small voice inside sounding a lot like Angelus, said, yeah right, like you would have held on to him like he was your lifeline, you would have gotten a hard on, as he pressed his body up against yours, yeah right, you would have ripped his head off, the voice laughed. Angel tried to ignore the voice. He returned to the apartment before dawn.
When he entered the apartment, he saw that Wesley had stayed over on the sofa. Guarding Cordelia, Angel wondered, from me or from something else. He slipped past Wesley and entered the bedroom. He glanced down at his best friend. He leaned over a gently brushed the hair from her face. Angel sat in the chair by the bed and stared at the beautiful young woman.
Oh shit, he thought, everything Wesley had said last night was true. He had to go do something, anything to stop himself from crawling into the bed and gathering Cordelia in his arms.
Chapter Eighteen:
Cordelia woke up. She had finally gotten to sleep after crying herself dry. Well, it was a new day. She had the links she needed to find her past and she would be young and beautiful forever. She should be happy. She sniffled. She wasn’t really all that good at giving herself pep talks, she thought.
Dressed, she walked out of the bedroom. Where is that damn sword, she asked herself. She remembered, she left it in the office downstairs, after her first of many crying fits. Shit maybe she should have stayed in Seattle, she laughed bitterly.
She started to go upstairs, when she heard noises coming from the kitchen. Cordelia went to the doorway. And wished she could remember her two friends in there; and she knew without a doubt that they were her friends, they felt so right. Angel was cooking. She had no idea that vampires cooked; do they even eat real food?
Angel sensed her presence and with some hesitation turned his gaze to her. He really didn’t want to see the fear that would be there, after Wesley’s tales of Angelus. He barely had time to lift his face, when Cordelia ran to him.
“Angel, I am sorry about what I said last night. I didn’t mean that I didn’t want to remember you. I do, it’s just that I have a big mouth and those dreams were scary. And getting pregnant by some gross demon is not something I want to relive. Please forgive me,” she begged, grabbing his hand.
Angel gazed at her in amazement. He would never understand his Cordelia. He lifted the hand that held his and brought it to his lips, not caring that Wesley was glaring at them both.
“There is nothing to forgive. I am the one who is sorry.” He dropped a soft kiss on her palm.
“Don’t you dare get all guilt-ridden on me, fang-guy”. Cordelia tried to hide the tears that were forming in her eyes. “What’s for breakfast…Good morning, Wesley,” she said to the silent watcher, composing herself.
Wesley shook his head and left.
“Not a morning person is he? You know, I don’t think I am either, but I don’t subject others to such grumpiness.”
Angel laughed. “Cordelia you are the most grumpy morning person I have ever seen in my over 200 years.”
She stuck her tongue out at him, then demanded food.
Wesley heard the laughter from the kitchen. Damn, he thought that his talk of Angelus had gotten through to Cordelia. He sat on the couch with a huff and opened a book.
“Breakfast, grumpboy.” Cordelia yelled from the kitchen. “Come on, please..,” she whined.
Wesley smiled; he really had missed her whines.
“Come on, I well tell you about Immortals.”
Wesley did not miss the triumphant look she shot Angel, as he came into the kitchen and sat down.
“Immortals are a race of beings that are destined to live forever.” Cordelia began her lecture. “No One knows how many there are, not even the watchers. Questions will be taken up after,” she said to the former watcher, as he was about to interrupt. “I have only met one, Duncan.”
“Duncan?” Angel caught the growl before it left his throat. Who was this guy, more importantly, who was he to Cordelia?
“Yeah, Duncan Macleod of the Clan Macleod, born in the year of the lord 1592. He really does say that. It is so cool, he has this sexy little Scottish accent.”
This time the growl made it out of Angel’s throat before he could stop it. Wesley shot him a dirty look.
“Oh, I am rambling aren’t I?” Cordelia missed the exchange between the two men. “Immortals don’t really hang around with each other. Duncan says some maintain friendships, others don’t. He knows one immortal who is over 2000 years old, isn’t that amazing?… He must be a really good swordsman, either that or he is a monk.” She said to herself. Cordelia missed the questioning glances that the men sent her way.
“It seems, that you are born Immortal but you don’t know it until your first death. But once you die, you can sense the presence of other Immortals. You know like a built in radar system… Can you do that with other vamps?” she asked Angel. Cordelia acknowledged his nod, with one of her own. “Anyway, it seems that the whole purpose of the immortals is to the play the game.”
“Game, what game?” Wesley interrupted. Cordelia shot him a glare, which said questions later.
“The game- the time of the gathering, all immortals play to a certain degree, the winner takes the prize,” she said quietly. Both Angel and Wesley noticed her tone and didn’t like it.
“How do you play?” “What is the prize?” They both asked at the same time.
“Whoa, questions much I said….okay, okay.” Cordelia noticed the looks they were giving her. “The prize is the power of all the immortals. And you win, when you are the last immortal left alive.” She paused.
“But immortals are well, immortal,” stated Wesley.
“Well, we can be killed…off with the head sort of thing, you know…hence, the sword.” She coughed delicately.
The crash of Wesley’s coffee cup hitting the floor broke the silence. Angel was too stunned to even try to catch it.
“You are not playing the game.” It was an order, not a question. Angel was quite proud that he said it so calmly. Wesley vigorously nodded in agreement.
“I have to play,” she stated matter-of-factly. “Even if I don’t want to. Duncan says that some immortals are willing just to live out their many lives, but others actively look for heads to take. So whether I want to or not I have to be prepared to fight or die.”
“You are not playing the game.” Angel tried again, this time he growled a little.
“I can’t just let someone take my head. I have to play, unless I go live in a nunnery and I AM NOT doing that for an eternity.”
“YOU ARE NOT PLAYING THE GAME!” Angel didn’t even try to hold back the growl.
“HAVE YOU HEARD ANYTHING I HAVE SAID? I DON’T HAVE A CHOICE!” Cordelia yelled back. They just stared at each other, neither one was willing to back down.
“What’s this bit about a nunnery?” Wesley asked breaking the tension.
With a growl of her own, Cordelia sat back down. “There are game rules that all immortals have to abide by… Don’t you say a word,” she warned Angel.
“One is no fighting on holy ground, then let’s see what else. You have to challenge your opponents, no ambushes or things like that, swords only, one on one, no exceptions.” She shot another glare at the vampire, who was struggling to control his temper. He was about to say it again, when he noticed a far away look on Cordelia’s face. She got up.
“We have company, of the old type. And I mean it, don’t interfere,” she said to the vampire. “Angel, if I keep my head, by cheating then all the other rules don’t apply. It will be a ‘free for all’ over my neck.”
“Run,” suggested Wesley. “There is no rule about a strategic retreat, is there?”
“He knows, I am here, there is no point running.” Cordelia moved to leave the kitchen. Angel attempted to block her path.
“No, Angel”, she pleaded as she squeezed past the vampire. Angel stood still. “Thank you.” She leaned up to kiss him on the cheek.
Please be Duncan, Cordelia silently begged. All of her posturing in the kitchen was false. She had never taken another immortal’s head and she had somehow hoped that she could avoid the game. She wouldn’t run, but she was scared. Cordelia didn’t want to lose her head now that she was so close to knowing who she was.
“Angel.” Wesley beckoned to the vampire. “We have to be there, we might not be able to fight for her, but we can support her. She needs us.”
Angel slowly turned to follow Cordelia up to the office.
Wesley watched the vampire. Cordelia could not die. He didn’t know what it would do to Angel. But he had a fear that Angelus and then a walk in the sun would somehow be involved. Please Cordelia win, he prayed.
Chapter Nineteen:
Cordelia sensed that it wasn’t Duncan as she rode down the elevator. She had gotten use to the buzz that accompanied Duncan’s appearance and what she was sensing now was unfamiliar.
Cordelia tried frantically to remember everything that the Highlander had taught her as she walked out of the elevator. She stared at the strange immortal leaning against the doorframe. Cordelia walked towards him cautiously looking around for her sword.
The man was tall. His gray hair was shaved into a buzz cut. Cordelia sensed that he was old, very old. The strange immortal was wearing a long trench coat. She noted that it was an expensive one. He wasn’t carrying his sword. Maybe he wasn’t here for her head.
“Nice coat,” she commented.
“Thank you,” the man answered in an accent that Cordelia could not place. Angel please, don’t interfere she thought, as she heard Angel and Wesley enter the room. The older immortal gave a glance to the two, then ignored them.
“Do your friends understand the rules of the game, young one?”
“Funny, we were just discussing them.” Damn, it was to be a fight. Cordelia maintained her poise. She would not let this man sense her fear.
“But, will they abide them?” the stranger asked, hearing Angel’s growl.
“Yes.” Cordelia turned to Angel and silently pleaded with to not interfere. She gave a small smile at his nod. God she loved him. Where did that thought come from? Stop! Think about the fight, her mind screamed.
Cordelia went to get her sword. The older immortal took off his coat and drew his sword.
“Who are you?”
“The name’s Marcus, this century anyway.” He laughed.
“Never heard of you.”
“Well, you haven’t been alive for very long, pretty one. And now you are going to die. It is a shame that your life couldn’t be longer.”
Wesley glanced at Angel, somewhat surprised that the vampire was still keeping his promise. Wesley wanted to take a weapon up himself, at the man’s taunts. But Angel hadn’t moved or made a sound. Wesley wasn’t sure he liked his stillness.
“I will live long enough, old man. Let’s do it.” Cordelia’s blade met his in the air. Wesley hadn’t even seen her swing. He only heard the resulting clang as steel met steel. The older mortal pressed on with his offensive strokes. Cordelia’s met his swings, stroke for stroke. She was holding her own, but for how long. All of the occupants in the small room could see that the other immortal was the better and stronger swordsman.
The objective part of Wesley’s mind watched with interest, the interplay between the two fighters. The battle had its own sort of beauty. It seemed like a dangerous, deadly dance. The blades met in the air, clanging together, causing sparks to fly at the force of the blows.
Angel didn’t see any beauty in the fight, he saw the death of the one person he needed more than his own redemption. If Cordelia died, he knew with out a doubt that his soul would shatter and Angelus would emerge. He saw Cordelia falter. She had shown the first weakness; it wouldn’t be long now, he thought fatalistically.
Cordelia tried to concentrate on the fight. She tried to remember Duncan’s instructions on fighting a stronger opponent. But she couldn’t clear her mind. She could sense Angel’s fear that she would fail. His fear was feeding her own. She lost all concentration and stumbled. Cordelia was scared. She continued to meet Marcus’s thrusts, but she could feel herself getting weaker with everyone of his blow. Damn you, Angel, give me your strength not your fear, she cried silently.
Wesley no longer thought that the battle was beautiful with any part of his brain. Cordelia was losing.
Angel began to sense something other than his own fear. He concentrated on that feeling; it was Cordelia’s fear and anger. The anger was directed at him for projecting his fear onto her. She was blaming him. Angel felt an overwhelming sense of guilt. Cordelia’s anger cut through his guilt, demanding him to bestow his strength not his fear or guilt. Angel’s emotions shut down.
He started to watch the fight objectively. It was true that Cordelia was the weaker and less experienced fighter, but she was good. Hell, she was damn good. Yes, Cordelia could do it. But she needed to concentrate. Damn it, Cordelia, concentrate, his mind shouted. He is all power and bulk, but no real finesse. Use your talents. Come on Cordy, concentrate. The damn Guta demon was bigger and badder than this guy, do it, he silently growled.
Cordelia actually heard the vampire’s growl in her head. It was one of anger not fear. She could feel his mind push her forward. She relished the feeling of his confidence. She could do this. Duncan taught her how and Angel believed she could do it. She growled, dodging to the left a blow that should have taken her arm.
Marcus had exposed his right side in making that blow. Cordelia couldn’t reach it with her sword, but she could with her right foot. She struck out with a forceful kick, rolling to the ground in her follow through. She jumped up and grunted in satisfaction. Her blow staggered Marcus. She went for the kill; she was now on the offensive.
So involved with the battle, none of the occupants of the room noticed the presence of the two men at the doorway.
Duncan put an arm out, stopping the anxious young watcher from entering the room. He shook his head no. Duncan watched with pride and admiration, as Carol…no Cordelia, pushed back the larger immortal. She stumbled. Brian gasped beside him. Duncan smiled; he recognized the maneuver.
Marcus followed to the right. Cordelia quickly came up on his left side, jabbing a hard small fist into Marcus’ kidney. The older Immortal groaned and stumbled. Cordelia followed with a swift kick to his kneecap. Marcus fell to his side. Cordelia kicked his sword away and stood over the fallen immortal.
“There can only be one.” Swinging her blade through his neck.