August 3
She was waiting for him.
It was a calculated risk, but one she was willing to take. Time was running out, and she – other than angry over the last minuteness of all this – was tired of waiting. She wanted her body back, her power. Her Mate; even if he was a big stone creature. Once she had her powers back, there had to be a way to rescind his exile as well.
And if she was stuck on this miserable planet with only these miserable humans to worship her, at least she’d have him to ease her rule.
The seeds were already planted, had been for months now, even if she hadn’t been there to watch them grow. The magick she’d woven around the susceptible child had been simple enough, and even Angel couldn’t break it, even if he’d have known of it. No, young Connor was hers.
Not so much the weak mind, though it pleased her to think of Connor as such. It was the confusion inherent in one who was raised to be something directly opposite his very nature. Raised to hate and kill his own father when the child was born to be the balancer of worlds.
“Too bad,” she murmured, standing by the window as the sunlight rose on another day. “I don’t care if Connor was supposed to destroy the world for the Old Ones to rise again. This world is mine, and so is that boy.”
Whatever he and Angel had been doing the last months – before that, but Angel was no longer any concern on hers, even if she was intensely curious. It no longer mattered. Connor could be deep sea fishing, running for mayor of the local demon population, or really hunting vampires. All she cared about was her ascension. Or rebirth in this case.
And once that was accomplished, she’d have her revenge on those who exiled her in the first place. The Wolf, the Ram, and the Hart.
“To think,” she fumed as the sun shone hesitant fingers on a new day. “They were nothing but ants when we ruled. Ants who hungered after our power, our worlds.”
It galled to think they now had their greedy little fingers in not only this world, but in others as well. Other dimensions once under her influence. Once devoted to her. The world would once again know her. Would love and adore her, give her everything, shower her with gifts.
All thanks to Connor.
The sun peeked over highrises and far-off mountains, dotting the LA streetscape with wisps of dawn’s first light. He’d be returning soon, returning from his nightly trip.
“This is the first day of the rest of my life, Connor No-Last-Name” she chuckled, watching the sun rise further along the streets and alleyways of the city.
“What are you doing here?” he demanded, entering his room.
“I…” she deliberately trailed off. Shrugged. Confusion was her key emotion here, and she intended on using it. “I couldn’t take it down there anymore. Everyone was staring at me, asking me so many questions, demanding I answer things I don’t remember.”
He eyed her warily, and she avoided his gaze, looking away uncomfortably. “I’m sorry. I didn't mean to intrude. I just…” she made to move away, sniffled, knew he heard the sob. “It felt safe here, quiet.”
“Don’t go,” he said just as she reached the door. “You can stay here if you like.”
She turned back to face him, allowed another tear to fall down her cheek. “Are you sure? I mean…thank you.”
Moving away from the door, she resumed her position by the window. “This world isn’t like I remember it,” she said in a soft voice. “I don’t remember the anger and the hate. The killing of innocents.”
It took a while, but Connor eventually asked, “What do you remember?”
“Friendship and trust,” she said immediately, then stopped. Shook her head as if confused. Oh, she remembered everything of Cordelia Chase’s life. The human wasn’t completely gone, merely corrupted to suit her purposes. Every slur and slander, every sidelong glance and whispered comment. Those friends – Harmony and Aura and the others – and the Scoobies – Willow and Xander. And Buffy. That bitch Buffy who was the cause of Cordelia’s downfall.
It was odd she felt such anger over something that had not happened to her. She rationalized it as she was in Cordelia’s body, soon to be her body and mind, they shared that. She’d all too easily corrupted Cordelia’s soul. Besides, she was the goddess here. She was allowed to feel whatever she damned well pleased.
And if that bitch Buffy wasn’t already dead, she’d kill her again. And again and again.
Breathing deeply, hoping Connor thought it her sorrow and not her nearly overwhelming rage, she gave a little laugh. “That sounded stupid didn’t it.”
“It sounds like you miss it,” Connor said, cautiously moving to lay his weapons on the lone chair in the room. No, this wouldn’t have been her first thought for such a seduction, but desperate times and all…
“I miss it.” she repeated then nodded. “I guess, but it’s a vague feeling. Like I miss hot chocolate, but won’t die without it. Or maybe that’s wrong. I just don’t know, everything’s so confusing.”
“This world is confusing,” Connor agreed. But he wouldn’t relax. Why the hell wouldn’t he relax? Why wouldn’t he just let her do what she needed to do – the bed was right there, damn it! He was supposed to be completely under her control. Mind and body. Soul was optional.
Fuck. Maybe that was it. Maybe she – and Skip she’d soon torture and kill – miscalculated that one tiny little detail. Skip was so dead. She’d have to ask Lorne; he’d know what she needed. Her willing follower. The snigger was caught before it could be heard. Willing, yes, to an extent – he followed his powers, his gods. She just happened to be older than they, and more…manipulative.
“For you, too?” If playing on his sympathies wasn’t going to work, she had to try another tactic. Any other tactic. This needed to be mutual and, other than the magicks making the child susceptible to her, ah, powers of persuasion, he needed to initiate it.
What a stupid rule. Damn immutable laws.
“This world,” he said slowly, “Is loud. And harsh. It doesn’t make sense. The people are…” he seemed to struggle to find the words to express his pain. “They don’t make sense. Say one thing and mean another. They want things, but I don’t know what they want.”
“That’s often the case; yes, I remember that. But they’re not always that way,” she insisted. “Some of them can be nice and understanding.”
“Can they?” Connor asked, frowning.
The knock on his door startled him, and he looked quickly to the wooden construct. “What?”
“Connor?” Wesley’s voice came through clearly. “Is Cordelia there?”
He opened the door, but didn’t let the man through. “Why are you here?” he demanded. “I thought my father told you to leave his house.”
“Angel, yes,” Wesley nodded. “He’s not…well, Connor, I’m afraid he’s not all here.”
“Where else could he be?”
“Ah…that’s not what I meant.” She stifled a giggle at the look Connor sent her. This was what the boy meant by saying one thing? Clichés and idioms? Well, she nodded slowly, she supposed they could be confusing…the human world was full of them, based on what one grew up knowing.
And Connor was raised by a lunatic in a hell dimension even she didn’t want to visit. As far as exiles went, now that she thought about it, Earth wasn’t so bad.
“What are you doing here?” Connor demanded again. “You live only because my father allows it.” He stalked forward, all gangly grace and lethalness even in those few steps. “He allows it for reasons you should be grateful for and yet you continue to mistrust him. To use and betray him.”
Wesley stayed his position, but she could tell he feared the boy. As well he should; Connor possessed a deadliness so like the demon part of his father it was almost scary. Or would be if she didn’t want that part of him.
“Connor, it’s not that way,” Wesley began.
She cut him off. Reuniting the team wasn’t in her plans. “Why were you looking for me?”
“Ah, Cordelia,” Wes nodded, pulling his eyes away from Connor. “I just want to make sure you were okay. You’ve been gone for hours now.”
“I needed,” she injected a note of uncertainty and insecurity in her voice. “I just needed to get away.”
Smiling gently, he took her hand, led her out of the room. “Fred made sure to bring all your things. Made up a room with all the stuff from your apartment. I’m sure you’ll be much more comfortable there.”
“Yeah,” she said bitterly. “Around a bunch of things I can’t remember.”
“I know this is difficult,” he continued and she wanted to ring his damn neck. Difficult? He’d just interrupted her! He knew nothing of difficult. “But you have to give it time.”
Laughing bitterly, she shook her head, but let him lead her to the room she’d been given. “I have a jumble of things in my head, fire raining on the city, creatures pounding on things, nothing’s safe. Not any more.”
“Cordelia,” he said, interrupting her tirade, make that ramble. “It’ll be okay. We’ve beaten things like this before, and we’ll do it again. I know you might not remember everything, the specifics, but you need to remember that. Or at least trust me.”
“It’s easier to say those things than it is to believe them,” she muttered. “I need…I need to be alone. I’m tired and confused, and I just need time to myself.”
~~~~~~~~~~
He dreamed of her again. She was smiling down at him, kindness and forgiveness. Her soft hands were gentle as they tended his wounds, and she was humming quietly. A bedside lamp gave a soft glow that reflected off her white-gold hair, skin as pale as his father’s.
“You’re still here,” he murmured.
“Of course,” she offered a weak laugh, looking down at him with concern. “Where else would I be? Certainly not fighting alongside you,” there was reproach in her voice, and he winced. “It’s a good thing I’ve learned to ignore the ‘It’s all fine’ speech and follow the two of you. Your father was worried about you.”
“Dad,” he whispered. “How is he?”
“Not much better than you,” her eyes drifted to another room, presumably where his father was. “I should put you both in the hospital for lying to me like that,” she scolded, and he gave a weak chuckle.
“Then you’ll only have to nurse us back to health, again.”
“Hmmm.” She pressed a kiss to his forehead, smoothed a hand down his cheek. “You do anything like this again, and we’ll see about that.”
“Yes, ma’am,” but there was a smile on her face, and his voice reflected the laughter he couldn’t disguise.
“Get some sleep, young man,” she ordered with another kiss to his forehead. “I’m going to go yell at your father.”
“He’s alright, though?” Connor demanded, worried. “I mean…”
“Yes,” she sat back down on the bed, hand cupping his cheek. “Don’t worry about him, Connor. He’s fine.” She smiled, this time, a real smile aimed at him, and he felt better. Her eyes sparkled, and he knew that she told the truth. “I promise.”
“Okay.” He felt his eyes drift close, felt her pull the covers back over him. Knew she watched until he slept before returning to his father where, he also knew, she’d spend the night holding him close, just to reassure herself he was still with her.
She was mad, but she still cared. There were no threats, no promises to leave if he didn’t follow her instructions. There was anger, but relieved anger; as if she was just happy she had someone to be angry with. He hadn’t been sure at first, been a little wary, but what she’d told him was true that first night.
She really just wanted them to be a family.
Connor’d been thinking of it for a while, had tried to work up the courage to ask her about it, but hadn’t. Not yet. Maybe now was the time, maybe this was a sign or something.
Maybe it was time to ask Buffy if he could call her mom.
~~~~~~~~~~
She walked through the streets of LA. Making sure she’d told everyone she needed time alone, was not to be disturbed, and had locked her door before making her escape. She now wandered, looking for anything to take her mind off her current problems.
That, and she was hungry.
The unfortunate thing was, for the moment, she needed to be careful not to attract too much attention to herself. So the homeless it was. Who would miss one less homeless man? Certainly not LA. She just needed to be careful. Connor and Angel were out helping the truly weak and pathetic, and she didn’t want them finding her before she had a chance to break out of this pathetic mortal shell.
Plus, the sun had only jus set, so she probably had a little time. And she was close to the hotel – Angel seemed to enjoy leading Connor on a merry tour of the damn city, not sticking close to home at all.
“It’s all his fault,” the voice muttered, and she smiled. The perfect victim. Er, sacrifice to her glorious cause.
“If he hadn’t been there, Buffy wouldn’t have died.” Buffy? Wait…Xander? Well, well, she sauntered closer. Wasn’t this a lovely coincidence. Xander Harris, the bane of her high school existence – or Cordelia’s but there was no separation any longer between the two.
“If Buffy hadn’t met that creature, she wouldn’t have died, Willow wouldn’t have died, and that piece of undead shit wouldn’t have been in town in the first place.” Undead shit? Angel? Or someone else?
“It’s all his fault.” Hmm, he sounded drunk, but that wasn’t a deterrent. No, the mere thought that this was Xander Harris, loser extraordinaire and second cause of Cordelia’s downfall, only added spice to the meal.
“Xander,” she said softly, moving into the dusky light, careful to stand in the pool of a lamplight.
“Cordelia?” he squinted at her, stumbling forward, and she wondered how he’d made it from Sunnydale to LA in the first place.
“Yeah,” she rolled her hips, moving forward. “I heard about what happened,” she nodded, some of her own rage abating in the face of this oh, so sweet revenge.
“He killed them all,” Xander wined, and she wondered if he meant Angel or that undead piece of shit. Or if they were both the same.
“Yes, I know,” she agreed, within arm’s reach now. “But don’t worry,” she smiled at him, and he just nodded, stinking of alcohol, despair, hopelessness, and filth. “I’m going to fix that for you.”
She began to glow, just a tiny light – she wasn’t at her full radiance yet, wouldn’t be until she could seduce that beginning-to-annoy-her child and facilitate her rebirth. Xander stood transfixed as her hands moved to his head, cradling it gently in her palms.
Within seconds, he was nothing more than a pile of old, worn clothing, and she was feeling rather satisfied.
Pleased once more, she headed back to the hotel. Seductions must be planned, after all. Yes, it would’ve been better if Angel had just succumbed to her – Cordelia’s – charms, but she was flexible. Connor didn’t stand a chance.
~~~~~~~~~~
August 4
Expertly covering his rage, Hamilton listened to the proposal set forth by the Senior Partners. The rage wasn’t at the proposal itself, not at all. No, that was fine – smart both business wise and on a more personal level for the intended. It wasn’t the business aspect that had him seething, not at all.
It was the broken promise.
Which, on retrospect, shouldn’t have come as a surprise. Not from beings as unscrupulous and downright evil as the Wolf, the Ram, and the Hart. But a promise written in blood, signed on the dotted line in an unbreakable contract was a promise. He’d been promised Lilah Morgan upon her death.
Angel killing her wasn’t a revelation; Hamilton knew the vampire wanted Lilah dead for refusing to reveal the whereabouts of Buffy Summers. That wasn’t the problem, nor was Wesley Wyndam-Price finding the crumpled body of his lover, Gavin still tied to the chair. Wesley still worked both sides of the fence, so to speak, though his association with Wolfram & Hart had been revealed to the not-very-originally named Fang Gang.
Alienation was such a wonderful thing. Still, the fool insisted on doing the right thing no matter their repeated – and quite original, if he did say so himself – attempts to get him on their side. But then, it was difficult to counteract one’s need to prove oneself to one’s father.
Lilah was currently not with him, as per the contract, but off doing only the Senior Partners knew what in their home dimension. Didn’t matter. Contracts, especially those signed on the Partner’s own paper with their own blood, would and could be enforced. At the moment, however, it was unfortunate Hamilton had other things on his plate.
He wasn’t foolish enough to believe the long used line of ‘After this one job she’ll be yours’, and was determined to fight for his lover, whether or not he truly loved her. That didn’t matter. He enjoyed her, her body and mind, and, for as long as he did so, wanted her.
It was as simple as that.
“I understand,” he nodded. Standing, fixing his jacket with a quick irritated tug, he left.
Making a stop at Wesley’s office, he planted the paper before disappearing to see what vampire and his child were up to. It was always something with them.
Plus, he wanted to see the progress being made on tracking Buffy Summers. Where she was, Angel was sure to follow.
~~~~~~~~~~
“The weather service remains baffled at the cause of this strange phenomenon. All that’s being reported at this mid-afternoon hour is what meteorologists are calling ‘a localized abnormality’, confirming earlier reports that outlying areas remain unaffected while the sun over Los Angeles has, for all intents and purposes, been blotted out from the sky. The Mayor’s Office has scheduled a news conference for six this evening regarding this bizarre development, and what it may mean for the city.”
“I have reason to believe Angel knows more of the Beast than he’s letting on.” Wesley’s words fell into the silence that engulfed the team.
Team, what a crock, he sighed. They hadn’t been a team in over a year. So much had happened since he last considered them a team, he couldn’t exactly pinpoint when everything had, so to speak, gone to hell in a hand basket.
“How?” Gunn asked.
“The Beast obviously knows him, and yet Angel insists he knows nothing of the Beast. I find that hard to believe.”
“Maybe the Beast’s making it all up. Trying to make us believe one thing so it can…”
“Can what, Fred?” Wesley asked impatiently.
“Do whatever it is it wants to do,” she finished lamely.
“If there’s even a chance Angelus could have inside info we could use…” Gunn trailed off.
“I don’t remember much,” Cordelia readily agreed, “But I do remember that. Or well, maybe it was just cryptic…but I don’t think Angelus is going to willingly turn it over.”
“I think it’s worth a try,” Gunn insisted.
“Again, not much with the remembering. But I do, for reasons that seem blatantly obvious right now, remember that the gypsies who cursed him with a soul, did so that he could feel remorse, make him suffer for all the people he slaughtered. Removing that soul is the only way to change Angel back into Angelus.”
“That memory thing is really selective, isn’t it,” Fred said in awe, then added, “So, removing a soul. A lot easier said than done.”
“That curse was specific. For Angel to lose his soul, he would have to experience a moment of perfect, pure happiness. And right now,” she sighed looked out the window with a smile carefully hidden from the others. “Happiness of any kind is in kind of short supply.”
“There are other ways,” Wesley said firmly.
“I see nothing,” Lorne shook his head, in the office – Angel’s, Wesley’s, it was so hard to keep up anymore. “I just don’t get why you don’t have a smidge of any recollection of a giant magma demon with ram horns and goat legs!”
“Maybe,” they muttered, “Because we never met.”
“Hey,” Lorne continued, “All I can tell you, stud, is if it’s in there, it’s buried deep. Deep inside Angelus.”
“Did Lorne help you remember?” Cordelia demanded when they emerged.
“No,” they said shortly, irritated no one listened to them in the first place.
“Anything at all?” she insisted.
“He said no,” Connor defended. “How many other ways can he say it?”
“It’s okay, Connor,” they said softly.
“I don’t know why you keep them around,” their son muttered. They shrugged to indicate they didn’t either.
“So, Fred,” they asked instead, “What have we got?”
“A puzzle with missing pieces and some cryptic gibberish. Angel,” she sighed, defeated. “Whatever power this device had, got swallowed up by the Beast. It won’t bring back the sun. Without the orb, it’s as useless as-”
“Us. Face it, man,” Gunn interrupted. “We’re losing ground. Pretty much the only victory we can claim is that we’re not dead yet.”
“No, but we don’t have a plan, either.” Fred muttered. “I like plans.”
“Here’s one,” Wesley piped in, ignoring the death glares Angel gave him. “Wo Pang.” He nodded to the man standing quietly in the corner. “He can deliver Angelus to us.”
They narrowed their eyes at Wesley, itching to kill him. “What do you mean ‘deliver Angelus’?”
“Wo Pang’s a shaman – order of the Kun-Sun-Dai.”
He’s got to be joking. No one’s that stupid. Not even him. Use magick to remove the soul? Is he out of his mind? Forget for just a moment we can’t lose the soul…is he out of his fucking mind?
“Dark mystics?” they demanded, incredulous. “You brought a dark mystic here to remove my soul – are you out of your mind?”
“Should’ve killed him when you had the chance,” Connor grinned, hopping onto the counter. “He’s lost it.”
“Claims he has the power to extract souls,” Wesley said, casting a withering look at their son. Why was he still alive…because She wouldn’t want his death on their hands. Shame. Maybe they’d finally be able to use that chainsaw.
“Wait…claims?”
“More importantly,” Wes continued as if this wasn’t as big a deal as it was. “He can restore them. Once we learn what it is Angelus knows about the Beast-”
“We’re not bringing Angelus.” They said firmly, joining Connor at the counter. They folded their arms across their chest, firm and unyielding. “Claims,” they muttered. “Dark magicks. Moron.”
“You don’t have a choice.”
They looked up at Wes, envisioned him tied to a chair, ungagged – the better to hear his screams, my dear – and watching as the chainsaw started, and laughed, “Actually, I do. That was it. You want to hear it again? Not with the bringing.”
Was it even possible anymore to take the soul? If that happened, would we live? Soul and demon are so entwined together now, a complete yin and yang, was what the Betrayer suggested even possible? Looking around at the faces of the ‘team’, they noted a distinct lack of loyalty. Where was Spike when they needed him?
A pang of sorrow and loss went through them at the thought of their childe. Of Spike’s love and loss. As soon as they found Her LA was a distant memory. Connor had never seen Europe, and they had several homes they could take him and Her. Visit there a while, and find Spike.
“Don’t make this harder than it has to be, Angel.” Wes was saying. “There’s no Plan B. We’re running out of time. People are in serious danger.”
“And you think,” they asked slowly, glancing at Connor, “That bringing the Scourge of Europe is a good idea?”
“You’re the one who wanted to stay,” Connor pointed out. “You’re the one who insisted.”
“You know the reason,” Angel smiled.
“It’s only temporary,” Wes insisted. “We’ll take all the necessary precautions in the interim. Contain you. I’m not blind to the risks. I know what Angelus-”
“You have no idea what Angelus is, Wesley” they cut him off, furious. Only what we showed them. Wasn’t that what we kept thinking? They know only what we show them. How pathetically true. “All you know is what you’ve read in books. You’ve never had the pleasure of his company, and you’re not going to. Get rid of the shaman.”
Walking past the stunned ‘friends’, they went into the courtyard. Connor silently slipped back to their room, already knowing the plan. One more thing to love about their son; he always knew what they wanted. What needed to be done. And with the sun gone, with constant darkness in LA, it was easier to track Her. She’d be out there, hunting those who thrived in the night.
They were silently looking up at the black sun, the darkness of the day, waiting for Connor when Cordelia sat beside them. What she wanted, they couldn’t begin to guess. From what they’d gathered from Lorne, and the few words she’d spoke to them since her return, she didn’t remember much. Shame. Maybe there was something from her time wherever the hell she was that could’ve helped them. Or maybe she should’ve just stayed there. They wouldn’t have missed her.
“They’re all going to die,” she said instead, and they looked at her sharply. Okay, so not what they were expecting. “The flowers, plants, trees. Without sun. Just realizing,” she shrugged at their look.
Shaking their head, they moved away from her. Whatever she was now, higher being or something else, the vibe she gave off made their skin itch. Still not convinced she’s…good. Not totally evil, there’s not much there to get a good read on her; but it’s nothing like the fighting the good fight being. There’s something off with her, something more than we noticed before she disappeared for months. Wished to hell we knew what it was.
“I just came to say that…” she was watching them with eyes they couldn’t read, with a look that suggested more than she was saying, and yet they couldn’t interrupt it. “I’m on your side. Angelus is the jumbo family-size bad of bad ideas. He’d be a danger to all of us. You made the right call. Wesley, the others…they don’t get it.”
“But you do?” they asked it, not stated it.
Connor was in the shadows now, waiting and listening. They didn’t want their son to know all they’d done in the past, though they had discussed some of it with him. Still, it wasn’t something a father wanted their son to know about them. They nodded to him, telling him they were ready as soon as they ditched Cordelia.
“Well, if I didn’t when Angelus was loose and killing in Sunnydale, then reliving his past horrors in virtual wide-screen sensurround during my tenure in Floatyville, pretty makes me an expert.”
The startled look they gave her had her shrugging in confusion. “Yeah, I remember that. Can I remember what my parents look like? Of course not. Other friends, things I’ve done? No, all I remember is the last few years, apparently. Isn’t that typical? Stupid Powers,” she muttered, but they wondered at that. Why would she know what Angelus did? What possible reason could she have for wanting to know that, for even finding out?
“Right.” They stood, headed for Connor to grab the sword their son knew they liked best. A couple stakes, “Good thinking, son,” they nodded in approval at that. “Ready?”
“Where are you going?” Cordelia demanded. “Angel, we need a way to stop the Beast.”
“We need to patrol,” Angel said. With that, they and Connor disappeared over the courtyard wall. Cordelia growled in anger. Forever foiled! Fucking vampire.
“Where’s Angel?” Fred asked when Cordelia went back inside ten long calming minutes later.
“He and Connor went to patrol. With darkness a 24/7 thing now, it’s a good thing they did.”
They didn’t find Her that night, ah, day…whatever. But weren’t surprised. It was chaos on the streets, and it took them and Connor hours before they admitted defeat and returned to the hotel for rest, food, and new stakes.
Unfortunately for them, Wesley was as stupid as he looked. The cage was set up in the basement, the tranq guns ready for use, and the shaman hadn’t left. When Angel woke up, Connor was looking at him, worried and angry, from the other side of the cage bars.
“What the fuck happened?” he demanded.
“When we came back,” Connor said quietly, aware they watched them from the video camera mounted on the wall opposite the cage Angel was trapped in. “They were ready. I couldn’t do anything, dad,” he whispered. “I’m sorry I failed you.”
“You didn’t,” Angel insisted, wishing his memory wasn’t as fuzzy as it was. “It wasn’t your fault.” He glanced up in the seconds before the door opened. “So, Wes. Taking my son wasn’t enough? You had to rape me of my soul, too? Tie me up, cage me, bring in a shaman to rip out something I consider mine and not up for auction?”
“This is necessary, Angel,” Wes maintained. “We need to know what Angelus knows of the Beast.”
“You stupid boy,” they growled. “If Angel doesn’t know, Angelus doesn’t. If the soul doesn’t know the demon doesn’t. How many other ways do you need to hear it?”
“Then this won’t hurt a bit.” Wes nodded to the shaman, and Wo Pang began.
Connor stood by the cage doors the entire time, watching them. Even though they were positive they could break the cage, they didn’t. Not yet. Not until this ridiculous spell was done, and they saw what a dismal failure it was. A dismal failure Wesley was.
“Don’t give them what they want,” Connor whispered as Wo Pang’s voice rose and fell around them.
Looking sharply at their son, they wondered if he realized what he’d said. Did he know that soul and demon were one? The light and dark was the same now, was equal as it was meant to be? Or was it something more, some deep-seated feeling the baby had for his father, a vague sense memory from the time they’d talk to Connor as the only being they could talk to, despite his young age.
“We never have,” Angel replied with a grin, one echoed by their son, and they shared a laugh.
It was over before they realized it, the images flashing in their mind muddled and incoherent, and they couldn’t decipher much of anything that the damned shaman worked with.
“The soul,” Wo Pang said slowly as they shook off the magicks. “Is contained.” He held up a jar with a glowing ball in it proudly as everyone came downstairs to stare.
That’s when they started to laugh. Looking past a smirking Connor, convinced their son knew what the others did not, could never understand, they laughed. Pushing past the nausea, the pain, and the feeling that they had, indeed, just been raped, they sat up. Slowly walking to the bars, making sure it looked more like a swagger than sickness, they leaned against the bars.
“You people have no idea what you’re dealing with.”
Connor laughed, said softly, “I’ll go out and patrol, dad,” and left without a backwards left to find Her. To protect Her, to help Her…oh, yeah. And the rest of the city.
“Want me to sing?” they taunted. “Want me to show Kermit here what I know of this Beast? Want to know all my secrets, Wes? Or do you just want to go back to your lover.” Laughing, they pushed off the bars and went to the far wall. Sliding down the wall, gaze directly on the group watching them avidly.
“Oops, can’t, can you. Lilah’s dead. Shame. I’m sure you made a cute couple. Well,” they rolled their shoulders, as if easing themselves back into Angelus. Fools. “There’s always Fred. But I’m sure Q-ball there won’t be too happy with that.”
“Just tell us what you know,” Wes demanded.
“Ohh, rough, eh? I’m sure Lilah loved that.” Head against the wall, they closed their eyes. “If you go out in the woods today/You're sure of a big surprise./If you go out in the woods today/You'd better go in disguise./For every bear that ever there was/Will gather there for certain, /because/Today's the day the teddy bears have their picnic….”
“Not again,” Lorne groaned, and covered his ears. “I need a drink.”
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