Title: Bait A Pure Darkness Serial fic
Posted: Jan 07
Content: Aus/Cordelia, mild Xander/Cordy
Summary: Angelus catches Cordelia, planning to use her to kill the Slayer.
Spoilers: Btvs S2
Disclaimer: The characters in the Angelverse were created by Joss Whedon & David Greenwalt. No infringement is intended, no profit is made.
TIO, GTC/A. anywhere else, please ask.
Notes: loosely based on the movie Red Eye, because I thought it’d be a great way to work a fic with Cordy and Angelus. This is technically my first attempt at writing these two, so it may be scratchy. I do plan to continue it.
Feedback: What am I? Doing this for the sake of writing? Bring it on!
Running, running, branches smacking her in the face while that stupid voice sounded too close behind her, and she’s stumbling, tripping over her own shoelaces and skidding down the side of a hill she’d forgotten was there.
The trip down was made mostly on her side, kicking up mud and rocks and sticks on her way to the bottom.
She hit the shallow water and froze, pain exploding through her adrenaline, seizing her muscles even though she screamed at herself to move, move, move, before –
He was faster; there was no getting away from him. She looked up at his boots even as she heard his throaty chuckle.
“Thanks for the chase. Always good to work up an appetite.”
His pale face was almost pleasant looking, except for his eyes. Dark eyes, empty of humanity, of all emotion except maybe rage.
Not even at her, she thought. It wasn’t fair. It was Buffy he hated, and yet here she was, caught and probably five seconds from getting drained and strung up on Buffy’s porch as his latest ‘gift’.
“Go stake yourself.”
He didn’t respond other than a humorous curl of his lip, bent over and hauled her up with a hand around her throat, dangling her a couple of inches from the ground and close to his face.
“I could end it right here, Cordelia, just like Jenny. It would be fast, you wouldn’t feel it…much.” He whispered the words like a promise and all she could do was choke as she tried to take in air, eyes boring into her.
Then he dropped her, sprawling at his feet.
She looked down at the ground and gasped for breath.
“Lucky for you I need you a bit longer.”
Things were a blur after that.
Someone else jerked her to her feet, and she was half-carried, half-dragged while her head hung and her senses reeled. Her side burned painfully.
When she managed to gather her wits again, she was being dragged through the doorway of a mansion, and up a flight of steps. Looking up, she saw that it was Angelus that had her, one arm under her shoulders, her arm over his.
“Hey pumpkin, nice nap?”
She really wanted to say something witty and brave, but honestly couldn’t dredge up the wherewithal. He was going to kill her. Banter seemed pointless.
They reached the top of the steps and he dragged her over to a door, swinging it open to reveal a decent sized room about the size of her bedroom, furnished but not overly so. He let her go and she flopped to the floor like a sack of wet grain.
Her body reeled and she wondered if she was going into shock, wished she’d paid better attention in health class when they taught CPR.
He kneeled down in front of her, listening to her labored breathing.
“You stink princess, and you’re borderline shocky. Guess the trip down to the creek wasn’t an easy one.” He pretended to consider something, biting his lower lip like a car salesman about to make an offer. “How about I let you clean up, huh?”
“Wha-“, her voice croaked and she tried again. “What do you want with me?” She asked weakly.
He reached out a hand and tipped her chin up until he could see her eyes.
“Hmm, what could I want with a luscious little kitten like you?” He waited, savoring the frantic increase of her heartbeat.
He smiled suddenly, leaning in as if sharing a secret.
“Just your mouth, princess.”
Fear clawed through her, and she reared back in his grip, his fingers tightening painfully against her jaw.
“What? Not interested?” He pulled his face into hurt lines. “I’m hurt, Cor.”
“If only,” she spat back.
He laughed again and pulled her forward.
Mouth so close to hers, it seemed as if he was tasting her breath and she stopped moving altogether, trying not to inhale, willing her heart to slow down as his nostrils flared.
Then he let her go, and stood up, looking down at her.
“Maybe later princess,” he mocked, “right now there are things to do.”
He turned and started to walk away.
“And wash up, you need it.”
He closed the door behind him and Cordelia sagged, relief at still being alive so acute her hands shook where they were braced against the floor.
This wasn’t happening, it wasn’t. She was Cordelia Chase, and she was rich and popular and pretty and she had a future and she wasn’t going to end up like Miss Calendar.
Getting her breath under control before she began to hyperventilate, Cordelia closed her eyes and counted to ten, slowly, drawing the numbers out in breathing exercises.
She was still alive, which meant Angel had plans, which meant she had time to think. She’d be missed, maybe not by her parents who were sunning themselves on the Riviera this week, but Xander, and – and –
God, Harmony and the others, would they even call the police, report her gone when she didn’t show up at the game Saturday night?
She pictured Harm taking her place on top of the pyramid.
So maybe only Xander.
And if Xander noticed, then he’d tell Buffy and then she’d find her.
This was all Buffy’s fault anyway, and when the Slayer broke through the door to save her, Cordelia would tell her so.
Her head throbbed and her body ached so maybe she’d just lie down, press her throbbing cheek against the flat cold of the floor…
A sharp sound jarred her, and she was up, braced on her hands before she was fully awake, eyes staring wildly at the figure standing at the door without comprehending who or what she was looking at.
The pain of her sudden movement buzzed through her body like live electricity.
“No, no, no princess, you weren’t supposed to fall asleep,” said the figure as it advanced on her. She blinked frantically; trying desperately to conjure up a reason she was on the floor and who was coming at her.
She skittered back on her butt, trying to get away from him, the throbbing in her body matched by the throbbing in her head, and her back hit a piece of furniture.
He moved slowly, enjoying her fear, loving the picture she made as she sprawled so helplessly in front of him.
She sat up straighter, hating the mean look in his eye.
“What do you want?” She demanded in a cold voice that nevertheless rasped from sleep and shock.
He leaned over and yanked her up by the arms, turning and tossing her onto the top of the bed before answering.
“What I want is a dead Slayer,” he put one knee on the bed next to her hip and leaned over her, “what I need to get what I want is a coherent cheerleader who doesn’t sound like a scared, squeaking little rabbit when she talks to the Slayer.”
“What? Why would I talk to Buffy-“
She stopped suddenly to stare up at him, understanding dawning, and began to shake her head in denial.
“No, I won’t. I won’t.”
She and Buffy may not like each other, but she wasn’t going to just toss the other girl into the lion’s den because Angel ordered her to.
“Ah, here come the protests of ‘never’,” he sighed and looked down at her. “Let’s just skip this part, shall we?”
“Hey!” she jerked her head up, forehead nearly colliding with his chin, fury choking her at her situation and how fucked up it was that she was going to end up dead before her senior year rein as Homecoming Queen, “I’m not calling Buffy, comprende? So you might as well go ahead and kill me or whatever.”
She stared up at him, knowing he could hear the fear tripping her heart up, holding her breath at what he would do next.
“Oh baby, you have a lot to learn about me, don’t you?”
The fingers of his right hand did a slow crawl up the outside of her thigh, and she barely resisted the urge to slap it away, but he was smiling, waiting for it, so she didn’t. He gripped her arm and pulled her up.
“Let’s start your education now.”
He dragged her out of the room.
He took her down the stairs, passed the foyer and opened a small door off the kitchen.
At first she couldn’t see anything, and she blinked, ready to ask what she was supposed to be looking at when her irises expanded enough for her to make out a shape.
She stared at the back of Xander’s beaten, bloody head.
“Learning yet, Cor?”
She tried to pull away, to go to him, but Angel kept the grip on her arm, yanking her back with him as he retraced their steps.
“It’s simple, nothing too complicated, all you have to do is call Buff, get her to the factory her Watcher burned down and I’ll take it from there.”
She didn’t say anything, barley heard him, her mind screaming Xander’s name as if that would bring him running and they could get out together because-
If they didn’t, Angel wasn’t going to let Xander live.
Wasn’t going to let either one of them live.
“But first Cordelia, I need you to get a hold of yourself. You’re no good to me if you hyperventilate during your chat with Buffy, and if you give the game away-“
He swung her back into the room and shoved her against the wall next to the door, grabbing hold of her chin again with his cold fingers and leaning in close.
“-well, I’m sure you’ll understand my crankiness if you fuck this up, right?” He squeezed tight and crowded her against the stone wall, leather clad thighs brushing her skirt. She closed her eyes to keep from crying.
Crying wouldn’t help. Crying was the reason she was in this dilemma. If Buffy had spent more time actually killing her psycho boyfriend and less time crying over him, she wouldn’t-
She gasped, her eyes flying open as she felt his tongue on her skin, licking up the salty tears she hadn’t realized was spilling down her cheeks.
“Mmm.” He ran his tongue over his lips as he looked at her. “Is every part of you as delicious as your fear?”
“Can I just make sure Xander’s okay?” She asked quietly, keeping her eyes to the left of his face.
“No, you really can’t – not now, but if you’re a good little hostage, I might think about it.”
He took a step away from her, keeping a grip on her wrist and leading her across the bedroom, smiling back at her the way Xander did when he wanted some quality time in the broom closet.
She had to keep herself from digging her heels into the floor and forced herself to follow his lead.
He opened the door and flipped the light on, revealing a bathroom.
He turned back and pulled her past him, pushing her in.
Then he turned and left her alone.
The water pressure was good for such an old mansion, and the shower ran full stop, steam creeping into all the corners, rising like tendrils to the ceiling.
The window was narrow, being in the bathroom and all, but she was just grateful it was there.
Climbing on it meant jumping up and catching the rim, pulling her body up onto the lip that poked out, for plants she guessed, and she was very thankful cheerleading required so many gymnastics classes.
It took a few minutes, but she got the window open, praying the running water masked the rusty scrape of the pane.
She peaked out and swallowed audibly when she realized she was three stories up.
She just needed to get to a cell phone, call Buffy and then they’d charge in and get Xander before Angel used him as a piñata.
As plans went, it was better than Angel’s.
The tree wasn’t that far away, and the branches looked sturdy enough to hold her weight but bendy enough that she could ride it to the ground.
All she had to do was not fall. Or make noise. Or throw up from the ache in her body or the nausea from her headache.
She pushed her feet out first, turned over onto her belly and heaved herself the rest of the way, briefly getting caught up by her breasts. She took a deep breath, and very painfully squeezed them through.
She dropped a few inches to the ledge and caught herself against the stone wall, trying hard not to look down. When she’d steadied herself, she reached over and caught the sturdiest branch she could find, feeling lucky there was no one left alive to prune the wild growth around the old mansion.
She caught it in both hands, gripped it tight, held her breath –
-and jumped, eyes closed.
It was faster than she’d hoped, and she nearly screamed out loud, legs stiff underneath her. When she reached the ground, she hit it so suddenly she stumbled and fell into a pile of old rotting leaves.
She was stunned into immobility, and only opened her eyes when she was assured that her body was still in one piece, and it was. Her head, however, throbbed with refreshed vigor and she just knew she was losing some important brain cells.
Hand to her head, she rolled over and started to get up when she ran into something solid.
One pale hand gripped her upper arm and hauled her up until her feet were under her.
His fist flew at her and the lights went out
She came back slowly, jaw throbbing along to the drum beat of her headache.
Under her back was soft and she slowly realized she was lying on top of a bed, opening her eyes to find that she was back in the bedroom Angel had brought her to earlier.
Dammit, that bastard had a fist like a jackhammer, she thought, her jaw throbbing in agreement. She pulled up on her elbows and blinked tiredly.
A scrape brought her head up and she jumped slightly, seeing a brunette in the corner of the room dressed in clothes that were so last century.
Her hair was soft curling around her shoulders, dead flowers weaved through, and a curious expression on her face.
“Bad kitty, no milk for you,” she muttered by way of greeting, and Cordelia quirked an eyebrow.
”Excuse me?” She croaked.
“She means, kitten, that you are wasting my time and your boyfriend’s breathing-plus status.”
Angel stalked through the door and over to the bed, kneeling over her with one knee braced next her hip. He was furious, breathing harshly through his nostrils.
She tried to roll away but he grabbed the hair at the back of her head and pushed her back down, holding her head pinned to the pillow while he leaned over her. She reached back and dug her nails into his wrist, trying to pull his hand away.
“Don’t waste any more of my time, cheerleader, not unless you enjoy seeing Harris strung up and flayed. Now me, I’m always up for a good skinning, but that’s not going to get Buffy’s ass to the factory any sooner, is it?”
She glared at him, feeling the wetness of blood under her fingertips.
He tightened his grip, pulling her scalp painfully, and she retaliated, digging deeper into the meat of his flesh.
Only the sound of her ragged breathing was heard as they glared at each other, his grip getting tighter and tighter.
“No.” She gritted out painfully.
He didn’t let go right away, staring down at her, the anger giving way to something else, something she couldn’t figure out. He yanked her head back until her neck arched, and she could feel him sweeping her body with a gaze.
Finally, he let go and she slumped back, relinquishing her hold on his wrist at the same time. He caught her hand quick though, bringing it up to his mouth, lips enveloping the bloody fingers and tongue snaking between the digits, licking up the blood she took from him.
A shock like a lightning strike shot through Cordelia’s body and she yanked her hand back.
He just licked his lips.
The girl came up behind him, winding around his body as her hand sought and reached for his bloody wrist, bringing it to her mouth and making a nummy sound as she licked it clean.
Okay, so this was Drusilla.
Angel watched Cordelia watching them, that look of contemplation turning deeper, more introspective.
“You’re proving to be more of a handful than I thought, princess. Maybe I should just cut my losses with the both of you-“
“And go grab Joyce out of her gallery-“
“-that way I’d get Buffy to the factory a lot faster and for a lot less hassle.”
“You take Buffy’s mom and you’ll be kissing sunlight before you could yell surprise, and you know it. She wouldn’t stop until you were dead.”
He pushed Dru from him, provoking a soft mewl of protest, and walked up closer to the bed, eyes lazy as they swarmed over her.
“Would you like that, kitten – to see me on the end of the Slayer’s stake?”
“Boy howdy,” she whispered back, not blinking as she stared up at the arrogant vampire.
In a blink, he was straddling her, legs stretched on either side of hers, pressing her down on the bed with his hands on her shoulders. She grabbed his wrists, frantically trying to push him off her.
“Hey! Get off me, you perv!”
He leaned down and sniffed her.
“Eww, what is your damage!?”
“You actually don’t want me, not even a little.” He leaned back, resting lightly on her legs, and put his hands on his knees, sounding vexed.
“No, you know what, I don’t go for psychopaths – that’s Buffy’s kink, and, oh by the way, ewww.”
He leaned down again, closer then before until his face was nearly touching hers, eyes amused as they ran over her face.
“I could make you want me, baby.” He whispered.