She was alone and had been for days.
Possibly longer, possibly not, but all Cordelia knew was
that the maniacal monster that was currently wearing her boss’ face hadn’t
bothered with her in some time. On the plus side that meant her body had a
chance to heal, no more raping, no more feeding, no more beatings. No more
taunting – thank the Powers, no more of that.
However, on the suddenly more important down side it seemed
he had truly forgotten about her; at least when he was hurting her Angelus made
sure she was fed.
Weakness permeated her entire body, her neck throbbed from
where he had repeatedly tore into her with no care for her pleasure or her body,
her skin was a patchwork of lacerations that would undoubtedly scar, and her
feminine core was never going to recover.
Not to mention the psychological scars. Therapy for the
rest of her life, assuming she survived this, which was looking doubtful, and
could find a shrink willing to deal with the various supernatural aspects of her
life, was never going to help her.
This was something she hadn’t been prepared for when she
signed up with Angel. And despite her love for him, she was suddenly thinking it
wasn’t enough. Nothing was enough to get past this, this pain and agony and
betrayal. Yes, betrayal, he had betrayed her in the worst possible way.
Betrayed her friendship and trust and her love for him.
This was something she could never forgive, never.
She was still chained to the bed in the pitch black room,
lying naked in her own blood and waste, shivering from reaction and shock, cold
and hunger. Cordelia Chase had no pride left at all, nothing but an emptiness
that was quickly consuming her entire being. A black pit that spread through her
at a faster and faster rate.
Angelus was right; she was broken. Beaten, torn, bloody, a
broken shell of her former self.
There was nothing else for her to do, nothing else for her
to care about. This was it, she was sure; the end of what had seemed such a
promising life. What a crock. A broken laugh escaped her dry and cracked lips
and for a moment Cordelia thought there was someone else in the room with her.
The sound scared her that much, made her think that it really was the end and
this was how she was going to die.
Ignoble, shameful, a pathetic living corpse.
“Please, just end it!”
The words weren’t as loud as she thought they were but
they were vocalized. The sound of her own voice did nothing to comfort her
though it didn’t scare her as it had moments earlier.
“Can’t, princess, you brought this all on yourself.”
That really wasn’t her voice. Opening eyes that Cordelia
hadn’t realized were closed she frantically looked about the darkened room for
the source of the new voice. She knew it, she was positive of that. So familiar
and once so dear, it was a voice she hadn’t heard in years.
“Who’s there?” Scared, terrified, was she losing her
mind? Was this all some horrible new trick of Angelus? Paranoia raced through
her and Cordelia thought her heart was going to explode from the pounding.
“I’m crushed, princess, I’d have thought that you’d
remember me a little better.”
“D-Doyle?” It couldn’t be him, he was dead, a
casualty of his own heroic nature. Oh, God, she was going crazy, losing her
mind, it was gone, gone, gone, he was gone, gone, gone, dead, Cordelia had
watched him die.
“Whom else would be standing here, I ask?” Cordelia
still couldn’t see him but could tell that he was moving closer. “And let me
tell you, I almost didn’t come.”
“Doyle? What are you doing here?”
“Came to help out, though I’m thinking that you brought
it all on yourself and don’t deserve my help.” Suddenly he was there and a
single shaft of light illuminated him as if her were some kind of angel. A
fallen angel with his hair mussed and his eyes piercing into her as if they
could burn her very soul, he looked anything but happy.
“Myself? What did I bring onto myself, what are you
talking about, Doyle?” She was scared, nothing didn’t scare her these
days, but the sight of her fallen friend and one time potential lover was
rapidly pushing her over the edge. The edge, so close, so close to the edge it
was there, right there and she was close, close, close.
“Honestly, princess, did you think that I wouldn’t
know? I know all, I see all.” He tapped the side of his head as he said that
and sat on the edge of the bed but didn’t really seem to touch it. “In love
with Angel? Fine, I can almost, almost being the key word here, see how you
could have convinced yourself of that. Loneliness does that to a person, makes
them see things that aren’t really there because they want something or
someone so badly, just to ease the pain.”
Shaking his head he stood, miraculously still clean, and
began to pace. The movement made her dizzy but Cordelia was loath to close her
eyes lest he disappear. Disappear like she was, like she was. “But to sleep
with his son? Come now, princess, what were you thinking? End of the
world? Okay, I can almost see that, but hello! His SON?! Tacky in the extreme
and some other things I’ll not say because time is short and I have other
places to be.”
He sat beside her again and couldn’t help but run a hand
over her face. She sighed at his touch and leaned into it. Peace, tranquility,
yes, so nice.
“Here’s the shortened version, princess, please listen
carefully. Angel saw you with Connor and the betrayal he felt that night
weakened his soul to the point where it can never again be the dominant in his
body, never be able to control the demon again. Now, to be fair, that wasn’t
the beginning. The beginning came when you didn’t tell Angel about your vision
of Buffy jumping into the portal Glory opened to spare Dawn’s life.”
Bright blue eyes pierced her own brown ones, commanding her
attention. “And again I ask, WHAT
THE BLOODY HELL WERE YOU THINKING? Not telling your supposed friend that
the love of his life was about to sacrifice herself? Brilliant, Cordelia, truly
brilliant; not something I’d have suspected of you. I’m more disappointed
than I can fully express but let’s move on.
“That started the weakening, without her he was a shell
of what he wanted to be. Buffy believed in him and as such he believed in
himself. Without her it was meaningless. You thought he got over her in three
months? Wake up and smell the reality, princess. He’ll never ‘get over’ her, it’s just not possible. Three months, three
hundred years it doesn’t matter, he’ll still lover her to the point of
madness.
“But I digress. Letting anger get in my way, I don’t
have time for that and that’s not really the point, anyway. My point is that
this is partly your fault and it’s up to you to fix it. Angelus wants you dead
for the simple fact that he views you beneath contempt. He can’t tolerate you
in the slightest, only keeps you alive and around because he knows you despise
it.
“You have one chance and one chance only to right this,
princess. Ready?”
He was disappointed in her, Doyle was disappointed in her.
Of all the things he had told her this was what cut the most. Lifting haunted
eyes to him she nodded. She’d fix this, right? She’d fix this and then
everything would be fine, Doyle wouldn’t be disappointed in her.
“Connor. Whatever you do, whatever you may think, it is
imperative that the boy be allowed to live. Allowed to live and to be free of
this place.”
“Connor? What? He’s the reason you’re here?” Again,
betrayed by a friend, someone she had once thought she could care about as more
than just a friend.
“Get over yourself, princess, this is it. Your last
chance. The Powers don’t care what you did or didn’t do with your visions
but I do. And I don’t work for them anymore. I’m here for Connor; he’s the
sole reason I’m even on this plane. If you don’t help him then you’re
lost. And there’s nothing I can do to help you.”
“I don’t understand, Doyle, what do you mean?”
“Cordelia, please, concentrate. Connor, save Connor.
She’ll be here soon and won’t know. She won’t know that he needs saving.
Please, princess, you have to help him.”
Cordelia Chase nodded. She had no idea how she was going to
help Angel’s son when she couldn’t even help herself; she had no idea why
she was helping him or what ‘she,’
who was obviously Buffy, was going to do or not do. But Doyle was back and he
needed her help. Help, help, help Doyle and then he wouldn’t be disappointed
in her anymore.
“You don’t work for the Powers?” What a crazy
question to ask in a time like this! Maybe she really had gone, well, crazy.
“Not any more, princess. Let’s just say I work for
someone higher up. Someone without a stake in who wins. And who doesn’t dally
in their warriors lives to the point of stupidity and cruelty.” So saying he
left, simply blinked out of existence and took that precious light with him.
“NO!” She screamed, afraid of the dark, afraid of being
alone, afraid of herself.
Cordelia was left in the bed, still dirty, still weak, but
with renewed hope. The spark was tiny; a seedling at best, but it was there. She
again had a purpose. Oh, it wasn’t to save Connor, or help Buffy, or forgive
Angel for his betrayal of her, no…it was to win back Doyle’s trust.
~~~~~~~~~~
“You again.”
“Yup, lad, me. I can only stay for a minute but wanted to
let you know that help, of a sort, is on the way.”
“I don’t need anyone’s help.” He was cocky, he
knew, but this man freaked him out in ways Connor couldn’t even begin to
describe. At the same time, though, the boy trusted him. It was an odd
combination but there you have it.
“Ha,” Doyle said with a sharp bark of laughter. “No,
what you need is better role models; the ones you have are pathetic beyond
belief. But she’s on her way, despite your attitude; and she won’t have time
for slackers, so be ready. The other reason I’m here is to let you know that
whatever happens next, you must decide. Understand?”
“Yes, I think I do.”
~~~~~~~~~~
Angelus awoke with a start.
“Damn,” he growled, swinging off the bed and smashing
his fist through the wall. The wall never stood a chance and crumbled in a wide
hole around his fist.
“Buffy, Buffy, Buffy…what have you done to yourself,
baby?”
He hadn’t the answer but couldn’t wait to find out. She
was coming, he knew, knew before he invaded her dream, but there she was
different. An aura surrounded her that seemed familiar but a thousand times more
so; as if she was…more?
That didn’t make any sense but Angelus hadn’t a better
explanation for it. She was Buffy, there was no doubt about that, but there was
something added to her that defied description.
Well, it didn’t matter. She’d be here this day, he was
sure of it, and then the real fun would begin. And he had her, he knew he did.
Physically, mentally, spiritually, she was his. Angel’s voice taunted him from
deep inside, ‘And she has you.’
‘Shut up, Angel; no
one asked you. Besides, she doesn’t want you; it was my name she screamed out,
my name she panted as she begged me to drink from her. Remember that as you
wallow down there, cut off from everything and everyone; especially her. She
knows what you did and our Buffy just isn’t too happy with that.’
‘She will never
love you, she can’t; you know that as well as I do. Mind games are all you
have.’
‘Ha! Oh, that’s
great, coming from you. You have it all wrong, Angel; MY mate can’t stand you
anymore. Did you hear her? After she had finished shouting her orgasm for me,
that is; she wanted nothing to do with you. Remember that?’
‘There are things
that she doesn’t know and you know that. I’ll tell her the whole story-’
‘Not going to
happen, soul boy. There’s no way I’m giving up this body. Or Buffy. So shut
the fuck up and deal with it.’
Angelus ignored Angel and walked to the window, looking out
over his city. HIS city, Los Angelus. Oh, but he loved that name.
He had all of LA under his control and loved it. Bedlam was the word of the week and he was the cause of it; the cause, the king, the god of it all. Those who didn’t obey were killed; those who did were given one chance to prove themselves – and then were sometimes killed anyway.
The humans hadn’t a chance and the population of this
Southern California city was never going to recover from it. His plans were
coming along nicely. The First Evil’s plans, well, who could say? Angelus had
only a faint idea what those plans were but knew it involved him and world
conquer-age.
There was something significant there that Angelus wasn’t
a part of but he was willing to ignore it so long as it didn’t interfere with
him. As for this Beast thing, that was a nice new twist. The Beast had called
him a worthy ally; high praise, apparently, coming from it, him, whatever.
And it had destroyed most of Wolfram and Hart; Lilah still
lived but only at his pleasure, a whim that could change at any moment. How’s
that for a token of appreciation? The best part, though, was that the Beast had
saved all their files. Thoughtful, wasn’t it? Angelus grinned as he walked to
another window and continued his perusal of his city and his inner musings. The
panic in the streets drew him time and again and he loved it that he could taste
all those delicious emotions in the air.
But the Beast and his rampage through that pesky law firm.
Angelus had asked why he wanted to destroy them, not that it was a bad idea,
just curiosity on the vampire’s behalf.
“They aren’t part of the plan,” he had said, the
rough gravel of his voice a rumble throughout the room. “My liege wants them
gone, they are gone.”
Loyalty was always good in a minion, Angelus always said.
“And their files?”
“Yours, Angelus, whatever you want in that building is
all yours.”
“Perfect.” And had sent his minions to loot the place.
He and the Beast had feasted on those stupid enough to wander the streets in
celebration of this victory.
Lilah was almost useful with her contacts. Or those
contacts that were still on this plane and still acknowledged her existence.
Cordelia screamed just then and Angelus smiled. His little Cassandra wasn’t
having too good a time with it, pity. Then again, he really didn’t care.
She was a bitch whore and whatever he gave to her she
deserved. He smirked when the soul made only a slight objection, so tiny he
almost couldn’t hear him.
But back to the First. Did It know that Buffy was coming to
LA? Possibly, It seemed to know a lot. But Angelus doubted It knew that she had
been changed. He barely did, and he was bonded with the slayer.
Oh, yes, things were about to get very interesting indeed.
~~~~~~~~~~
They were ready.
Okay, actually, no they weren’t.
Buffy was ready, or as ready as she’d ever be to face her
love, trap him, or rather the demon – the same thing? She didn’t know
anymore – inside her body and hope for the best. She had no idea what the side
effects of either the Slayer spell or this Essence spell were to be, but she
couldn’t really think about it now.
Her favorite sword was packed, as were a half a dozen
stakes, a battle axe Giles had given her for a birthday, the dirk Angel had
given her one year and a few dozen magically enhanced crystals that were
guaranteed – according to Willow – to freeze anything within twenty feet of
there they were activated, excluding Buffy; she had no idea what kind of
resistance she’d encounter once she arrived and it was best to be prepared.
Clothes she packed carefully, knowing that they, along with
her body, were her best weapon in defeating Angelus. Leathers and silks and
velvets were packed, along with a deep red leather corset that she had bought
two days ago with this very mission in mind. Of course the chances of her
actually having a chance to shower and change there were slim at best, but Buffy
had no idea how long this was going to take and didn’t relish the idea of
living in the same clothes for days on end.
The cross necklace Angel had given her on their first
face-to-face meeting and of course the ring she still couldn’t take off no
matter how much strength was inside of her now or what new magickal powers she
possessed. Not that she knew what all of those powers were, but they were there,
shimmering under the surface.
Was she forgetting anything? Buffy looked around the room,
roses covered every available flat surface and most of the floor, an unending
gift from Angelus. A slight smile graced her face as Buffy breathed in the rich
rose scent. Her weapons trunk was bare, most of the weapons having been taken
downstairs already or packed in her satchel. At the very bottom of the trunk, in
the secret drawer, lay all the pictures Angelus had ever drew of her, of them.
More arrived with every dozen flowers and she had kept them
all.
Who was the one obsessed here? Angelus or Buffy?
Debating briefly whether to bring them or not, Buffy
quickly scooped them into a folder and placed them flat in the bottom of her
bag, not questioning the impulse to do so. Sighing at her weakness, she just as
quickly packed everything else either Angel or Angelus had ever given her before
she could rationalize her actions.
“I’m ready,” Buffy whispered to the nearly empty
room, a room that was full of memories that would, now, never let her go, and
picked up her bag. Walking out of the room, knowing that she’d not likely see
it again, Buffy turned to the stairs and her friends.
“I’m ready,” she repeated and looked at them one last
time. “Stay strong for me, fight, and don’t let the First win. I’ll be
back as soon as I’m able.” She left out the part about how this fight was
most likely to the death and the chances of her seeing them again were slim to
none – even if she did win.
No one needed to be reminded of that.
Embracing Giles she held onto him for a long time. It was
hard, so hard to know that they needed to be apart from each for them to be able
to grow the way they had needed to. She was happier than she could say when he
returned, even if it was because of some new evil.
“Thank you,” she whispered as she kissed his cheek,
“For always being there, for leaving and for coming back.”
Giles felt his eyes mist up but refused to shed the tears
that came at her words. He’d see her again, he would; he needed to believe
that or what was the point? Brushing a stray hair off her face he leaned down
and kissed her cheek, “You mean more to me than I could possibly say, Buffy, I
hope you know that.”
She nodded her own eyes bright with unshed tears. Releasing
him, she moved to Willow. The witch was still a little out of it from the spell
but had roused herself enough to watch her best friend leave to confront her
ex-lover. She understood why Buffy was doing it, she did, but that didn’t help
her any, not when the slayer was needed here.
“Take care of yourself, Buffy, and remember the spell. It
needs to be said…”
Buffy nodded, cutting her off. They didn’t need to get
into it again and this really wasn’t the best time for it; it was a time for
goodbyes. “I remember, Will, don’t worry. Take care of Dawn, okay? And Anya,
I don’t think she’s handling Xander’s death…”
Willow nodded, hugging her friend again. “Okay, I will,
don’t worry about us.”
Anya was next and while the two could never really be
called close, they shared a silent hug and Anya promised, without having to be
asked, to take care of everyone. It seemed the death of her lover had done what
years in the group had not been able to; Anya was now an integral part of them.
A single tear tracked down Dawn’s face but she didn’t
try and talk her sister out of this –she had tried, repeatedly, and it had
done no good whatsoever. Her mind was made up and nothing anyone had said to her
had done one darn bit of good. Buffy was bound and determined to stop Angelus at
the expense of herself; she was either going to die at her ex-lover’s hand or
live for the rest of her life with the echo of that voice inside of her.
“Buffy…” But Dawn had nothing to say, nothing that
hadn’t already been said and nothing that Buffy was going to listen to,
anyway. So she settled for, “I’ll be fine, take care of yourself.”
Buffy nodded, hugged her sister again, and looked at Faith.
The slayers didn’t say anything, didn’t embrace or touch at all. Everything
that needed to be said had been already; Faith would watch over them, there was
no doubt about that in Buffy’s mind.
Nodding, Faith took a step closer to the group, the
potential slayers hovering in the background looking scared and anxious, what
remained of the Scoobies looking like they were sending their champion off on a
crusade. She smiled then, that cocky I can do anything smile that she had when
she first came to Sunnydale.
Buffy smiled back and wondered what kind of relationship they could have had. Looking each person once more in turn, with the exception of Andrew, Buffy opened the front door and walked out.
She never looked back.
Whatever happened now, this was no longer her home. Someplace out there was.
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