PART 7
A ghostly hand dragged the duvet off Cordelia’s shoulders waking her instantly. Rolling over and squinting in annoyance, she said sharply, “Dennis what the hell are you doing? If this is some kind of phantoms revenge for me staying out all night- I’m gonna…”
The slow knocking at the front door halted her before she got snippy enough to warrant an apology. “Oh right, door- thanks.” Still not exactly happy at being pulled out from a deep sleep, she grumbled the whole distance from her bed to the door.
Slapping on lights as she went, she growled, “Whoever you are you’d better have a damned good excuse for getting me up out of a warm bed at 3 frickin’ am in the morning. That’s all I can say. Geeze, between two jobs you’d think a girl would be entitled to some shut-eye once in a while.”
Pulling back the bolts and throwing open the door, her jaw dropped open at finding Angel leaning drunkenly against the outside frame. Before the embarrassment that had kept her awake for a good hour could rear its head, she noticed the pale, stricken cast of his features and realised it wasn’t drink. “Cordy,” he said and raising a blood-stained hand, lost some balance and began to topple.
“Whoa, what happened to you?” she yelped catching him and nearly tumbling back to the floor, only with him on top this time. “Geeze, you weigh a ton,” she complained without thinking, concerned more than it showed. His belly jumped under hand and she felt the stickiness of what could only be blood. His shirt was soaked through. Her white t-shirt wasn’t faring so well either.
“Sorry,” Angel rasped in pain and tried to stiffen up. “I shouldn’t have bothered you-“
“Well you did, so don’t be dumb, Angel. Besides, we’re a team aren’t we? Saying that- where’s Wesley, is he okay?” With his balance restored enough to take some of his own weight, she found it easy to manoeuvre him towards her bedroom. The couch would probably have done, but if for whatever reason it wasn’t, she didn’t fancy trying to move him once he was down.
Biting his lip as every step jarred his wound, Angel reassured her, “Wesley’s fine. He’s escorting Kate home. I was supposed to go back to the apartment…I wasn’t planning to come here, but-“
“But somebody lied and told you I was Florence Nightingale in the flesh.” Hazel eyes rolled, “Forget why, you here now.” Honesty forced her to add, “Word of warning though, this is a first for me and if it’s really bad, I may barf.” The fact that he was stumbling over his words worried Cordelia a lot. With an arm around his back and shoulder jammed under his right side, they made slow progress.
Head swimming with pain, Angel hardly knew what he was saying, “You don’t have to patch me up. I just needed to see you.”
That raised a brow, both of them- high. “Yeah well you can look your fill while I patch you up.” What else could she say? Wondering what the urgency was, insecurities over their kiss swung back into action. Concentrating on keeping them upright, she pushed them back until later.
Alternately pulling and tugging, Cordelia managed to get them through her bedroom door. Dennis turned up the light to full power while she pushed him to sit and knelt between his legs. Grasping a hand to begin pulling off the leather duster, curiosity got the better of her. “So, why the urgent need to see me?”
He was paler than wax, way worse than usual. Heavy lidded dark eyes struggled to focus on her face. “Wanted to I guess,” Angel admitted blurrily and lifted an unsteady hand to clumsily brush back the dark curls obscuring her face. “Do you have any idea how precious you are?” he asked unsteadily.
“Precious?” she repeated taken aback. Wow, if he gets like this every time he’s injured I may have to sharpen some stake knives myself. Forgetting everything for a moment, Cordelia’s delighted smile stretched from ear to ear. “You wanted to see me, in the middle of the night and for no reason at all?”
Just then the sleeve finally gave up and let her tug it off. “Yeah; sorry if I woke you,” he said, hissing in pain when she pulled the heavy coat across his back to peel off the other sleeve.
“If you don’t mention that then I won’t have to ….and Oh my God! Who did this to you?” Crouching back down, she’d finally seen the wound and gaping, wondered at the stubbornness of a vampire who could drive out of his way in this condition. Her mood did a u-turn. “You’re insane for coming out here. What if you’d crashed and the car went up like a skyrocket, huh. Just because your immortal doesn’t mean you can’t get killed. Hello! Fire?”
A gentle finger shushed her before her voice got high enough to crack glass, “I’m fine. Vampire, remember? I heal fast. This’ll be gone by tonight.”
Lips tingling, she was caught by the first truly unguarded expression she’d ever seen on him. Cordelia swallowed a lump, saying, “Yeah right. I have eyes. I can see how *not* okay you are, dumbass.”
Grasping the hand and laying it on her shoulder to keep it out of the way, her gentle unbuttoning and peeling back of his shirt was completely at odds with the harsh words. Seeing just how bad it was helped unruffle her frazzled nerves and she was almost calm. Scowling, she flicked him an impatient look and demanded, “Next time, call me and I’ll come to you, okay.”
“Okay,” agreed Angel, happy enough to agree to anything to wipe the scowl off her face; adding a soft plea, “Don’t be mad.”
Refusing to be caught off guard again, she didn’t meet his eyes. Wadding up the shirt, she mumbled, “Well, don’t you just get all sappy when you’ve lost a little blood?” Then standing with a deep sigh, she pushed him down to lie flat, admitting, “This isn’t mad, trust me, you’d know mad when you saw it. This is me worried about you and since you saved my ass not so long ago, I reckon I’m allowed.”
Examining the wound seemed a lot safer than analysing his action. Wincing at the long gash with its open sides, she told him to scoot up the bed while she dug out some medical supplies from the kitchen.
“Cordy,” Angel calling her name stopped her at the door. Turning a little impatiently she caught his muttered, “We need to talk,” and rolled her eyes in mild exasperation.
“Tell me about it. But it can wait two minutes while I get something to cover that gaping slash in your chest. You might not mind it, but it’s making me want to hurl.”
Coming back less than a minute later, she was half expecting him to not have moved an inch. The big lug had looked pretty darned comfortable just hogging the end of the bed. Why that gave her a thrill she’d examine a lot later. Rounding the door Cordelia stopped in her tracks, shocked at seeing a floating pair of pants being folded in mid-air. Although, not for the usual reasons.
“Dennis!” she hissed mortified, “He’s wounded on his belly…not down there. We didn’t need to take them off. Are you trying to humiliate me here or what?”
Thankfully the overly helpful ghost had also covered the now naked and unconscious vampire with the duvet, carefully tucked as it was to lie just under the drying wound. Toying with the idea of putting them back on, she gave it up over the risk of waking him in the middle of it.
Teeth gritted and reaching for patience, she dumped the bandages on the bed and stalked to her dresser in search of scissors. “Fine, I guess it’s too late now, damn it. Next time wait until I ask though, okay?” Rummaging inside the second to top drawer, she hissed at her ghost, “Geeze, embarrassing much? You are so explaining in the morning even if you have to draw a picture to do it. Clear?”
Then with the supplies gathered, she climbed huffily on the bed and sat back on her heels to study him. Angel was out of it; sunk deep into a vampire sleep she had no idea how to disturb.
Picking up a roll of crepe she got busy snipping, talking to herself as she did. “Like I even want to wake him, especially since he’s naked.” A brief glare was aimed at the ceiling, “This is good. This way I can just get it done and get some sleep of my own.”
The idea of sleeping in the same bed as Angel was disturbing for all kinds of reasons she didn’t want to dwell on. So she didn’t. With long lengths cut and reaching for the bottle she’d snagged as an after-thought, she poured some of the yellow fluid onto a wad of cotton wool and started dabbing the antiseptic fluid on the long open slit, wondering the whole time why the hell she was bothering.
“It’s not like your gonna get an infection or anything, turn green then keel over. I guess being dead does have its advantages, huh?”
Getting the bandages on him was a struggle though. In the end she settled for wrapping a bandage around his abdomen; grateful it wasn’t higher up where she couldn’t push the bandage roll under the small of his back. Finished, surveying her handiwork and trying not to linger with feminine appreciation on the muscled planes of one very impressive masculine chest, Cordelia felt exhaustion drop in the wake of the excitement.
Coming to the crunch the sofa held about as much appeal as a bed of nails. Scrubbing her face to alleviate the tired ache with both hands, she sighed through them and griped, “I knew I should have put you on the sofa. The state you’re in, you wouldn’t have noticed it’s too small.”
It was too late now. As the saying went, she’d made her bed and now she was going to have to lie in it, vampire and all. “Ugh, I don’t care. This is officially the freakiest Friday ever. Meaning, I might as well make a complete night of it.”
Decision made and pulling off fluffy bunny slippers to toss them into the corner of the room, she slid under the duvet next to Angel. There, head resting on the pillow with dark hair fanning across the crisp cotton, she hesitated and then finally laid a hand on the centre of his chest. “Night, Angel.”
***
Angel was dreaming. It started off very familiar, an old recurring one that hadn’t plagued him for a couple of decades. He was back in the Silverous’ basement and Serena was weeping, pleading with him to help her end her life. His dream-self felt every bit as trapped and helpless as Angel had on that terrible night. Foresight doesn’t exist in dreams anymore than in real life. He’d never been given the chance to imagine, even for a second, going back and being able to change what he’d been forced to do.
Hearing her high-pitched, wailing scream through two floors, he found Serena’s crumpled form exactly as he had sixty years previously. Knowing what was coming, he tried battling back the memories unleashed at the temple, but they continued to stream out; only as sometimes happens in dreams the scene warped. It was the very worst part of the dream and she had hold of his hand, pulling him into a deadly embrace. Squeezing his eyes shut for a moment, as if blocking out the sight of her neck with its hammering pulse would halt the call to his demon. Angel opened them again to find instead of tangled blonde hair and glazed blue eyes, he was staring down into Cordelia’s face.
Confused and uneasy, he whispered her name, “Cordelia?”
She showed none of Serena’s defeat. “Should I be pissed you even have to ask?” A perfect brow arched in unison with a teasing sideways smile.
“No…I just…” shaking his head, he tried again, “I didn’t expect you here.” Her hand was warm in his and without intending to he found himself clasping a hip to pull her in.
She came without resistance and his relief was palpable. There was no trembling for this woman, and the air was redolent with perfume rather than fear. “I’m glad you’re here,” he admitted and it was patently true. In fact it was he that was shaking not her.
Coming up on tiptoe she brushed his lips with hers, and said, “Good. I’m reserving judgement until after you kiss me.”
This time there was no hesitation and the invitation was superfluous. Before the last word was out, he was already grasping her neck to keep her in place as he lowered his head to kiss her. It was even sweeter than before. Angel kept as tight hold as he dared afraid she was mirage that would melt away if he didn’t. Seeking some desperately needed reassurance, he deepened the kiss; taking it further, faster than he had before.
Cupping her ear and tracing the delicate line of her jaw with a thumb, he felt it open as he surged inside. She met him and passion ignited, causing his whole body to tighten. Close wasn’t anywhere near close enough. Hooking an arm around her slim waist, he lifted her up so they were flush from the thighs up. Through two layers of clothing he felt the tight points of beaded nipples against his chest. Pure, dumb need battered at him and if he could, Angel would have joined them then and there. Restraining himself was exquisitely agony. Tingles raced wherever they touched and he throbbed with borrowed life as desire roared.
The dream became a time out of time. An oasis from the horror gathering on the horizon. When she breathed he did, too, and hoarded it inside a chest that ached with emotions he couldn’t name. For years now he’d been saving people in an effort to redeem himself, but it had taken Cordelia to save him from himself. Locked away inside his head with her, he felt alive again.
Her panting was choppy and ragged. Reluctantly accepting he had to let Cordelia recover some breath, Angel released her lips and trailed butterfly kisses along the sweep of her jaw. Drawn like a lodestone to the delicate arch of her neck, he suckled the skin shielding the rapid tattoo of her pulse. As he did clutching hands speared into his hair; burrowing through the thickness of it to press his face closer. He was in heaven until tucking her head so he was nestled, caught with that sweet flesh under his tongue, Cordelia asked, “So, is this the part where you kill me?”
The shock of it catapulted him out of the dream and back into wakefulness.
***
For the second time in a single night, Cordelia was woken from a deep sleep with a start. This time it was with Angel suddenly jack-knifing upright and dislodging her from the perch she’d made for herself on his broad chest. Eyes popping open she blinked and focused on his stark profile, watching uncomprehendingly as he jerked his head around to stare down at her.
He was as tense as a bowstring. “Cordelia?” he asked hoarsely.
“Yeah- what’s up?” Night time or not she had no problem seeing the feverish light in his eyes. It was an hour or so before dawn and the semi gloom turned brown to pure glittering black. Seeing didn’t mean believing, “Angel?!” she queried sharply.
Instead of an answer, Cordelia found herself flattened to the bed with a defensive hand planted to a muscled chest, trying to keep him at bay. “Do you think I could hurt you?” A deep voice asked somewhere above her head.
Staring back with a befuddled frown in place, she replied, “I haven’t given it a thought. Which…kind of answers your question, right?” Lying beneath him she was doing her damndest *not* to think about the fact that he was naked, half straddling her, and deliciously heavy. Oh God! You just had to think of that didn’t you?
His skin was damp with sweat, giving her a clue. Her expression cleared. “Angel, have you just had a nightmare?” That would go a long way toward explaining his weird behaviour. He was shaking, too. She relaxed and her hand unconsciously travelled up smooth skin to his collarbone.
“Everything is a nightmare,” he said cryptically then finished gutturally, “I can’t lose you, too,” and that it seemed was the end of any conversation.
Breathing ceased as her mouth was taken with passionate force. Inside, white fuzz replaced conscious thought as Angel relit the embers doused so abruptly by Wesley’s voicemail. Embarrassment, insecurity and doubts didn’t stand a chance under an onslaught of stunned pleasure, all the more compelling because it was pulled from her reluctantly. Before he’d knocked on her door, Cordelia had been on the verge of retreating back behind her walls, certain she was heading for heartache if she didn’t. Recalling any of that became impossible.
However many mindless minutes later, she gasped in lungful’s of air when the kiss ended and his head dug into the pillow next to hers. Braced, hard hands grasped the neckline of her sleep-shirt to tear the white cotton right down the middle. It should have angered her and would have if it had been anyone else. Cool air washed over her breasts and belly, and then Angel was kissing her again, sweeping invasions so full of desperation her senses spun out of orbit. Being needed was her Achilles heel, carefully hidden from everyone, even herself. His feverish intensity called to the deepest parts of her soul and made her want to weep.
With Angel propped on his side; curved around her body laid flat before him, doing any exploring of her own was frustratingly limited. Cordelia didn’t let that deter her and she slid her palms over a powerful torso that flexed and bunched under her hands; marvelling at the silky feel of his skin. It was only encountering the rough bandages, some lucidity returned. “Wait, your wound?” It killed her to say it, especially since the feel of his hand kneading her breast was lighting a trail of sensation that shot straight to her womb.
His only response was to cup the full underside and suckle the budded nipple deep into his mouth. Streaks replaced the sizzle as nerves she’d forgotten she had were jolted back to blazing life. Conscious thought ceased as the smouldering heat in her belly grew, and clasping his head Cordelia arched up in a silent plea that he take more, do more.
The same hand that had cradled her breast then travelled down her body, following the indent of her waist; sliding under the loose elastic of cotton shorts to stroke through damp curls of hair. She tensed but not with fear. Anticipation was electric. Lovemaking was a pleasure remembered occasionally and wrapped in misty memories of a sweet, brief fling that ended with smiles. This was as different from that as night was from day.
Sweetness paled in comparison to torrid heat. More so, because that heat was startlingly different to the cool fingers that glided over flesh already slick with liquid arousal. Adeptly parting her, his middle finger dipped unerringly into the warm centre to plunge deep and hard. Quivering, Cordelia moaned long and low before he took her mouth again and thrust past teeth clenched with need.
Tongues dancing and retreating, Angel mimicked the rhythmic plunge of his finger and skilfully drove her wild. A past master at bringing both pleasure and agony, sometimes together and sometimes part, he used those merciless skills now. A thumb skilfully circled the tiny bundle of nerves that held the key to the first as he added a second finger, tormenting her with the imitation of the real thing.
Writhing and clinging with her nails dug into those broad shoulders, Cordelia ground her head into the pillow and moaned again as the uncoiling tension unravelled her senses. Pinned by a heavy leg over hers, there was no respite, and the deep inner rasp of his fingers inside only teased her more with the promise of a fullness she’d already begun to crave. Hips undulating with mindless abandon, she thrashed under his hand until he was forced to straddle her fully.
As if a signal had been given the frenzied tempo increased as the shorts joined the tee-shirt. Naked as he was now, Cordelia felt her thighs kneed apart to make way for him and the heavy, softening in her sex intensified as anticipation quickened inside her.
“Oh God! I want you, hurry up,” she panted thickly, and rearing up wrapped her arms around his neck to bring him down to her. She wanted his weight on her almost as much as she wanted the smooth broad head she could feel rubbing over her sex to penetrate. Rushed helter-skelter to the edge, Cordelia was frantic to be swept over it.
Mounted and poised, Angel pushed up on his hands for leverage and then hesitated. His complete silence was finally explained when hazel eyes flew up to clash with piercing brown. Inside, everything seemed to lurch for Cordelia as time suspended on a single moment. Arms braced and muscles locked, he looked almost unhinged- savage even. His hard face was taut as he hung over her with eyes that glittered under slashing brows. What speared straight to her very heart though was the vulnerability revealed in the slant of his mouth turned rosy with kissing.
God! Her tongue felt too thick for speech. Who needed speech? She decided recklessly and tightening her legs around his hips, thrust up demandingly. Above her his jaw clenched hard enough to crack, but he met her challenge. Clasping her bottom, Angel lifted her up to meet his thrust and then pumped fast and shallow, stretching her. Shuddering with mutual relief and burgeoning tension, they groaned in unison.
Finally joined the wild ride finished as quickly as it had begun, shattering them both with the intensity of it as they rocked and surged together; straining for a completion that wrung every drop of energy out of vampire and human alike.
London, England
The pub was one of the less salubrious types; lacking any of the modern touches that lift others to trendy and homey. The dark wooden floor was simply grimy and sticky rather than stained. Once white walls were not so artistically streaked with ancient tobacco stains and the bar itself looked more like a carnival reject with bottles instead of skittles on the dust laden shelves.
Supping gingerly at the frothy top of his pint of bitter and trying not to feel guilty about the cigarette perched smoking in the large ashtray, Teddy sat and waited. The entrance doors were in his direct line of sight, and opened a surprising number of times before the man he was to meet entered the dim interior. He raised a discreet hand and saw the nod of acknowledgment before the man approached the bar to order a drink.
A few minutes later and another pint glass joined his on the table. Thumbing back the top of the pack of cigarettes Teddy offered one to the equally grey haired man who lowered himself onto the opposite bench.
“Thanks.” One was taken and then lit from a flaring match, “I’d heard you’d given up the weed, Theo?” said the newcomer with a wary smile behind the curling tendrils of smoke.
Teddy had told him a few times not call him Theo, but this time he had more important things on his mind than pet-hates. “I did. Look, Seb, do you mind if we skip the pleasantries and get to the point. It’s rather important that I’m not missed and perhaps let the cat get out of the bag prematurely.”
Intelligent grey eyes narrowed with interest, “Certainly, let’s skip. I’m intrigued about such clandestine urgency, I must admit.”
Ten minutes later and intrigue had been replaced by cautious alarm and not a small amount of sly calculation. Sebastian Wyevan was the Council’s Director of Overseas Operations, and most importantly had been the Harry’s chief rival for becoming Director General four years previously. A fact Teddy was banking on to aid him.
“Let me see if I have the facts straight,” said Seb, grinding out another cigarette, “You hacked into Harry’s email, personal email I might add and found this,” he waved a printed piece of paper casually in the air, “which was sent to Wolfram & Hart a few weeks ago.”
“Wolfram & Hart are a dubious concern to put it mildly,” added Teddy before draining the dregs from his glass.
“I’m aware of their activities,” advised Seb with a cold smile. “That’s is my business after all. Carrying on, this email suggests that Harry has been involved in a plot to commit several murders all aimed at unsouling a vampire. Is that it?”
“Isn’t that enough? And it’s not just any vampire, but Angelus. A name I’m sure you’re also familiar with.”
An inclination of the head was confirmation enough. Gory details weren’t necessary for one of the most infamous vampires of the last three centuries. “You’ve been busy, Theo. Tell me, what is Harry’s motive in all of this?”
“How would I know?”
“Guess. This is all very circumstantial and if you want me to perform some kind of coup to get rid of Harry, then I need more.”
The word coup was enough to have Teddy feeling sick. They had never had anything like this happen within the Watcher’s Council in seven centuries. “I’m only guessing but the way I see it is this.”
Taking a deep breath he reeled off the things that had been circling his head ever since finding out from Silas who had ordered that scroll translated, “Within months of Harry taking the reins Buffy Summers, the latest Slayer takes up with Angel, the souled version of Angelus.” The ricochets of that news still rang clear in his memory even several years later.
“Then, not long after that she and her watcher defies the council during her training, resulting in Rupert Giles being struck off. Worse, Angelus returns and nearly sucks the world into hell. Summers disappears with grief for having to banish him. Comes back swiftly followed by her demon lover and then defies the council yet again once the rogue Slayer Faith, already unstable and jealous over Angel’s attentions to Buffy, poisons him with an arrow. Are you seeing where I’m going with this?”
Face carefully blank, Seb waves him on.
“To top it off, Wesley Wyndham Pryce, who is distantly related to him, is fired for incompetence and promptly takes up with the same vampire. Putting it bluntly, Harry’s whole term has been riddled with controversy and failure and it doesn’t take much of a stretch to see the common denominator.”
“Angelus.”
“I hear he prefers Angel now, but essentially, yes.”
“All supposing you’re right, it still doesn’t explain why Harry would plot to remove the soul, slaying the creature would be better surely.”
“Not if he wants to recoup some of his losses by arranging for Angelus, once he’s committed a few atrocities, to meet a dusty end. That would certainly impress the Governing Board and turn around his track record almost immediately.”
There was a pause. Then Seb grinned and raised his still half full glass in a mocking toast, “You’re a scary fellow, Theo, I’ll give you that.”
