{"id":7552,"date":"2015-10-30T12:34:41","date_gmt":"2015-10-30T12:34:41","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/goteamfiction.com\/?p=7552"},"modified":"2015-10-30T12:35:12","modified_gmt":"2015-10-30T12:35:12","slug":"drawing-lines","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/goteamfiction.com\/index.php\/2015\/10\/30\/drawing-lines\/","title":{"rendered":"Drawing Lines."},"content":{"rendered":"

Title: Drawing Lines.<\/b> A Darkness Within fic<\/i>
\nAuthor: <\/b>Samsom
\nPosted: <\/b>02 Oct 06
\nEmail<\/b><\/a>
\nRating: <\/b>R for language
\nCategory: <\/b>Angst
\nContent: <\/b>Angel\/Cordelia subtext
\nSummary: <\/b>During Reprisal, Cordelia deals with a paradigm shift.
\nSpoilers: <\/b>None. S2
\nDisclaimer: <\/b>The characters in the Angelverse were created by Joss Whedon & David Greenwalt. No infringement is intended, no profit is made.
\nDistribution: <\/b>Ask please.
\nNotes: <\/b>This was hard, but I\u2019m happy with the way it turned out.
\nThanks\/Dedication:<\/b>For Cali<\/b> I hope it lives up to what you were wanting.
\nFeedback:<\/b>Concrit and comments most welcome<\/p>\n

\n

The first thing she thinks when Angel strides through the door is that he\u2019s coming back. He\u2019s coming back just as she\u2019s beginning to let go. It\u2019s only after Wes\u2019s soft whisper echoes her own that she realizes that he\u2019s really not.<\/p>\n

He\u2019s just there to tear another little piece of them away.<\/p>\n

And then he\u2019ll leave. She can see it in his closed off, pissed off face.<\/p>\n

\u201cMay we help you,\u201d Wes says as Angel passes them without looking, without even so much as fucking acknowledging them.<\/p>\n

She stands up, fury lighting her up inside after weeks of numb confusion, and twists around as he brushes against her chair and begins going through their meager library.<\/p>\n

\u201cExcuse me, that area is for employees only!\u201d<\/p>\n

Wes\u2019s British sense of propriety and the wheelchair prevent him from doing more than sputter helplessly but she\u2019s never been one bound by anything resembling tact and she\u2019s more than ready to unleash the fury she\u2019s been nursing since he fired them and didn\u2019t look back.<\/p>\n

\u201cYeah, you took all the books.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYeah, well, you got the waffle iron!\u201d<\/p>\n

He pulls a book off the shelf.<\/p>\n

\u201cHey! No! You can\u2019t take this one, I-I\u2019m in the middle of it!\u201d She yells as she grabs the book out of his hands, moving past him to put it back on the shelf and yanking the phone book down instead. \u201cHere, take this one.\u201d<\/p>\n

She shoves the book at his chest and he just as forcefully throws it to the floor, moving in close, violating her personal space in a way that forces her to back further up, until her back hits the bookcase.<\/p>\n

There\u2019s muted fury in his eyes, his jaw locked tight as he stares down at her.<\/p>\n

Her heart rumbles hard inside her chest, aware suddenly of the power in his body, the leashed violence that Angel had previously kept so tightly controlled around her and Wesley.<\/p>\n

\u201cDon\u2019t make me move you.\u201d<\/p>\n

She hears the click in her inner ear, a slight humming pop that signals lines being drawn in their friendship.<\/p>\n

He stares down at her and she can\u2019t see anything familiar in his eyes, no trace of the friend who cried with her when Doyle died and saved her life a few dozen times and made her breakfast when the noise in her head got too loud for her to bear alone.<\/p>\n

This Angel locks human beings in with vampires and walks away. He\u2019s become an unknown element, volatile and dangerous to her in ways he never was before.<\/p>\n

He holds her gaze as he takes another, very deliberate, half step into her space, and she\u2019s forced to blink, to look down at the exposed portion of his pale throat, before glancing back up at him, anger giving way to something darker.<\/p>\n

She can feel her pulse pounding in her throat, heartbeat so loud her eardrums burn, and she wonders wildly why it doesn\u2019t feel like anger or fear or –<\/p>\n

\u201cGive him the book, Cordelia.\u201d<\/p>\n

A voice intrudes, making her aware that there\u2019s a witness to the insanity going on between them. She slants her eyes over to see Wesley rising with visible effort. \u201cJust give him the damn thing! Let him get the hell out.\u201d<\/p>\n

Angel doesn\u2019t move, and for a long second she doesn\u2019t either, but the urgent tone in Wesley\u2019s voice finally brings her back and she drags in a deep steadying breath, pushing Angel back a step and twisting to grab the book. She pushes it at his chest with as much force as she hopes it takes to hurt him but he merely steps all the way back as he grabs the book and swings around, heading out the door.<\/p>\n

\u201cI don\u2019t even know who you are anymore.\u201d A painful, unnamed something wraps around her voice, makes it hateful and mean.<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m a vampire, look it up.\u201d<\/p>\n

His parting shot is left hanging in the air as he slams out with his prize in his hand, leaving the wreckage of his actions behind him.<\/p>\n

She\u2019s shaking as she stares blindly at the closed door.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat a jerk,\u201d she says, her voice trembling with anger and shock and the aftereffects of fear. Behind her eyes, she feels the prickle of tears begin and ruthlessly fights them back.<\/p>\n

\u201cCordelia.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI mean if it were anyone else, I\u2019d just say \u2018get laid already.\u2019\u201d<\/p>\n

He threatened her, with his words and with his body, and she can\u2019t stop the pain from lancing through her, the hurt rolling up into a ball at the base of her chest where she knows it will sit for a long time.<\/p>\n

\u201cCordelia.\u201d<\/p>\n

She can hear Wesley\u2019s voice, but she can\u2019t stop talking, staring blindly at the door.<\/p>\n

\u201cBut no, not him.\u201d Don\u2019t make me move you<\/i>. \u201cOne decent boff and he switches to evil psycho vamp.\u201d Don\u2019t make me move you<\/i>. \u201cWhich, in a way, would be better for everyone.\u201d Don\u2019t make me move you<\/i>. \u201cBetter for him because he\u2019d get some, and better for us because then we could stake him afterwards.\u201d<\/p>\n

Don’t make me<\/i>–oh God, Angel<\/i><\/p>\n

\u201cCordelia \u2013 \u201c<\/p>\n

She blinks and turns to face Wesley.<\/p>\n

\u201c-ambulance?\u201d<\/p>\n

She follows the direction of his gaze to his side.<\/p>\n

There\u2019s blood blooming against his white shirt.<\/p>\n

She feels instantly shamed. Her wounds may hurt, she may feel like she\u2019s hemorrhaging inside, but they were entirely metaphorical. Wesley\u2019s bleeding is real, bearing the physical stigmata of their exile with more grace and humor than she was displaying, and so the very least she can do is help him sit back down and call for help.<\/p>\n

She can always cry later.<\/p>\n

~**~<\/b><\/p>\n

Samsom<\/a><\/b><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

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