Time In A Magic Box
© Christie
There was nothing remarkable about the room. It was small, square, with no windows and only one door, which looked to be made of steel. One row of shelves lined the wall on the left, but they held nothing aside from a single stack of old newspapers. There was a vent on the ceiling, and it seemed to be blowing cold air into the room. Another vent beneath the shelves appeared to be sealed shut. Just to the right of the vent on the ceiling, in the center of the room, a lightbulb hung from an old fixture, so corroded that wires peeked out of it at every turn.
No, Cordelia confirmed. Nothing remarkable about the room, except for the fact that she was in it and the door was locked from the outside. Furious, she scrambled to her feet and pounded on the large sheet of metal separating her from freedom.
*
Cordelia's apartment was more than just empty. Something was missing. Something was... wrong. Wesley couldn't quite put his finger on it, but he knew as soon as he walked over the threshold. He looked over at Gunn, who didn't seem to feel anything out of the ordinary, and pulled his glasses from his face. He knew deep down inside it was futile, but he asked anyway.
"Do you feel it?"
The other man turned abruptly, his hand lingering over the blinking light of Cordelia's answering machine. "Feel what?" His face scrunched up in bewildered countenance.
Wesley shrugged. "Something's wrong here. Something - " he paused. No words to describe it to his friend, when he couldn't even describe it to himself. "Something's not right," he finished lamely.
Nodding minutely, eyebrows raised as though chastising Wesley for stating the most obvious thing in the world, Gunn depressed the play button on Cordelia's answering machine.
"Cordelia, it's Angel. We expected you over an hour ago - "
Fast forward.
"Cordy, Angel again. Um, it's 11:30, I guess maybe you're out - "
Fast forward.
"Yes, Cordelia, Wesley calling. We're going without you - "
Fast forward.
"Cordelia, Wesley again. Sorry to be calling so late, but I suppose you haven't been home all evening. Please give one of us a call when you get in, we're rather worried."
A metallic voice filled the room. *You have no more messages.*
Gunn frowned. "She didn't come home all night, and hasn't been around this morning either."
Wesley heard but didn't respond, wandering through an arched entryway to the rear of the apartment. He paused at Cordelia's bedroom door, somehow terrified to look inside. The door hung open about 45 degrees, and Wesley's hand trembled as he pushed it further, revealing the Seer's entire bedroom.
Nothing was amiss or out of place; the bed made neatly, a half-empty bottle of mineral water perched on the nightstand and a purple terry cloth robe strewn casually across the back of the chair that sat in front of the vanity. Several hair clips, a hairbrush and a tube of lipstick littered the top of the vanity, everything else was tucked into it's rightful place: hair ties in a small wicker basket, make-up brushes standing in a ceramic cup decorated with multi-colored butterflies, rings, necklaces and a watch stowed in a mahogany jewelry box whose lid stood open.
The former Watcher sighed. Everything looked normal. Still - something was wrong. He voiced the thought aloud, and jumped when Gunn's voice floated in from the doorway.
"Wrong, other than the fact that Cordy's vanished into thin air, you mean?"
*
She didn't have her watch, and frowned, picturing her bedroom and it sitting there, right on top in her jewelry box, because it was the only piece of jewelry she bothered with now days. She even remembered that she left the box open when she'd taken it off, because she used the small mirror there to study her nose carefully, afraid that the late nights they'd been working lately were causing unsightly blemishes on her otherwise flawless complexion.
Cordelia didn't know what time it was, or how long it had been since she'd been brought here, specifically because she didn't *remember* being brought here, and no light seeped in *anywhere* in the entire room.
The light above her was on, it had been the entire time, and there was no string or chain hanging from it with which to turn it off. Or back on. She crinkled her nose at it, as though it took the blame for the situation, and moved back toward the door. She made to pound on it once more, but examined her reddened fists and decided against it. Instead, she stilled herself, even her breathing, and listened. Hard.
Nothing.
Nothing was outside the door, and nothing would hear her pounding. It was useless. Things, she decided, couldn't get worse.
Until the vision hit. It slammed her entire body backwards and she collapsed to the floor, crying out in agony and reaching up, fruitlessly, for someone to hold onto. He was usually there. But not this time.
Angel wasn't there, gripping her tightly in his strong arms, soothing her forehead with the cool palm of his hand, waiting for the cacophany in her head to pass. She fought the pain alone this time, gripping the metal shelving with one hand, her left temple with her other hand, both so hard knuckles turned white.
She saw herself, the tiny room, the lone illuminated lightbulb, and the large metal door. She saw the vision hitting her, seconds before being replayed at a fevered pitch inside her head. Then she saw herself get another, and another, until she passed out from the sheer excruciating agony.
Then, it was over. Silence, except for labored breathing, and small whimpers she couldn't control. Didn't even have the energy to curse the Powers That Be. She wanted to bite off a smart remark, pepper it with seldom-used vulgarities just to drive the point home, but the Seer had no intelligible voice.
Cordelia put her head in her hands and cried.
*
It came to him on the drive home. Wesley sat silently in the front seat of Angel's car as Gunn steered it through the streets of L.A. Nothing at all seemed wrong at Cordelia's place, except that *everything* seemed wrong at Cordelia's place, and neither knew what they were going to bring back to Angel who was expecting them to produce his Seer, or a glaring clue as to where she was.
But it hit Wesley, like a mack truck, and he gasped in surprise at the revelation.
"Dennis."
Gunn furrowed his brow, looking askance at his companion. "The name's Gunn," he deadpanned.
Wesley clicked his tongue in exasperation. "No, *Dennis*. Cordelia's ghost. He wasn't there."
Silence fell over the two once again as Gunn tried to make sense of the significance of Wesley's sudden espial. Nothing came to him, and patience wore thin. "So?" he finally bit, this time turning his head fully to the Englishman. Vexation was clear in his voice.
"Well it's not like he stepped out for a burger, Gunn," Wesley explained, feeling slightly excited and more than overwrought at his discovery. "He doesn't leave the place. He's bound to it. That's what makes him a *ghost* there. But he wasn't. He wasn't there."
Gunn nodded, finally feeling in the loop. Well, on the very outskirts of the loop, but within it's boundaries definitely. "Okay."
Silence once more. Uneasiness filled the car.
"What's that mean?"
Wesley frowned, sinking lower into the leather upholstery. "I have no idea. But it can't be good."
*
Time was now passing in visions. Minutes, hours, even seconds didn't matter anymore, because Cordelia couldn't make sense of any of it. She only knew one thing: she'd had four visions in the time she'd been locked in this godforsaken broom closet, and it was dangerously close to the time she would pass out.
The second vision had seemed random enough: the usual big scary rising up in the sewers just below Hollywood Boulevard. The seedy part, if you could call any part of it *not* seedy. Preying on homeless and hookers, decapitating at least one young woman and one old man before Cordelia's pay-per-view shut off.
For some reason afterward, she'd pulled down the stack of newspapers and found the words 'Hollywood Blvd.', ripped them out and placed them in the corner of the room. A sense of duty told her not to forget any vision she had, because Angel would have to respond to it eventually.
Well, a sense of duty, or the small grey room was driving her insane.
The third vision could have been random, but she had the vague sense that it was not. It was more powerful, more *real*, and definitely more painful. In it, she smelled the beach, not the sewers, which was actually a welcome change, and even shivered as she felt the nippy air brush over her shoulders and push her hair off her neck. She saw a small building on a bluff, must have been a lifeguard tower, because there were at least fifteen others identical to it spaced evenly down the beach. That was the extent of that vision, but still she found the words 'beach' and 'tower' and placed them next to the other.
The fourth vision was nearly her undoing. Seven demons in hooded robes, chanting at the foot of an altar as a young girl burned alive. Rats scurried around the demons feet, and every once in a while one of them would bend down, tear the head off an unfortunate rodent and pour it's blood into a chalice that looked vaguely like the Holy Grail. The contents of the chalice would then be dumped onto the fire, and the chanting would resume again.
Cordelia's last meal had gurgled dangerously close to her throat, threatened to come up when the vision finally ended, leaving her a quivering and sobbing mass on the concrete floor.
It had to have been hours before she could get up, pull a piece of newspaper onto her lap and find the words 'girl' and the number 7. She also found 'sack', 'rice' and 'rate' - which would have to remind her of 'sacrifice' and 'rats', and piled them next to the scraps that read 'Hollywood Blvd.', 'beach' and 'tower'.
Sniffling, she sunk once more to the floor, curled into a ball, and thought about Doyle.
*
Gunn felt a little better that Angel seemed as clueless as he did about the significance of Dennis not being in Cordelia's apartment. It did seem to upset him more, though, which made Gunn realize that he really needed to read up on his paranormal tendencies if he wanted to stay in the loop, especially if one of his partners had Casper for a roommate.
"So, nothing. Nothing at *all* was out of place at Cordelia's, except for Dennis' presence not around?" Angel demanded, slamming large hands onto the counter in the lobby of his hotel.
Wesley shook his head slowly. "Nothing."
"No signs of struggle, anything? Was her purse there? Her coat?" Angel questioned.
Gunn thought. He hadn't even looked at the coat rack. It seemed Wesley had. "Yes, yes. Purse, coat, keys. All there. The mail was there, like she'd just gotten it, it was on the table next to her keys."
Gunn's eyes widened, and he cursed himself for being so blind. He hadn't seen the mail, keys, purse. He'd looked at the table too, and hadn't seen any of it. Or hadn't bothered to *notice*. And he called himself a detective?
Well, not really. But there were bigger issues at hand. Like Angel, who looked like he was about to strangle the person closest to him. Inconspicuously, Gunn inched away.
"She hadn't listened to her messages, but that was the only thing that was out of the ordinary," Wesley continued.
"Aside from the lack of ghost," Gunn added, hoping to make himself useful.
Wesley nodded in concurrence. "Right." He turned toward the bookshelf and began scanning the dusty volumes. "Angel, under what circumstances does a ghost leave a house?"
The vampire looked up, his eyes clearly betraying his anger and frustration. "Vanquishing, I think is the only way," he stated flatly. "If ghosts could just up and leave, they'd be floating all over the place." He looked back down and added to himself, "Cordy, where the hell are you?" To Wesley, he said, "I don't think focusing on Dennis is the way to Cordelia."
Moving around the desk, the vampire pulled the doors of a small cabinet open and pulled out several stakes, a cross bow, and an axe so large it left Gunn wondering how the hell it had fit in that small cabinet in the first place.
"What you doing, man?" he asked, moving around the desk himself, but staying out of range of the angry vampire and his weapons of choice.
Angel turned and looked stonily at his fourth partner. "I'm going to find Cordelia," he said, the resonance of a growl in his throat. "You coming?"
Gunn looked at his watch, noted that the sun had just set and nodded crisply. He reached out to grasp the stake Angel was handing him. "Hell yes."
*
Angry at herself for breaking down, Cordelia pushed herself into a sitting position and wiped her eyes, grumbling at the mascara that streaked across the back of her hand as she did so.
Great.
Not only did she have to be stuck in a box, but she had to have raccoon eyes too.
A plan. She needed a plan. Surveying the vents told her that she was way too big to get through either of them, and a thorough investigation of the door revealed no hinges or variances of any kind. Just a big, heavy piece of metal. Hinges probably on the outside, along with a handle that opened the door outward. Maybe a big honkin' deadbolt. Nothing that would help her in the slightest while she was trapped inside.
She trolled through the newspapers, reading random stories dating back to 1984, of this crime and that sale, not sure if she was looking for a clue, an idea, or a way to pass the endless time. When her fingers were fully soiled with newsprint she made a face and pushed the papers aside.
As an afterthought, the Seer studied the shelving unit, and realized it could be broken apart. Determined, she set to work on disassembling it, and creating as many weapons as possible with the hollow metal pieces.
*
Angel had beat up every known snitch in town and they only had one lead. A very tiny, longshot lead. The lashta demon known as Yodel, because of his tendency to sing as soon as someone threatened him, said he'd caught wind of *some* plan to take *some* guy's *something* in order to get the guy. He didn't know anything more specific, he *swore*, and swore and swore and swore as Angel's booted foot came dangerously close to making dust of Yodel's larynx.
Wesley had excused himself and waited in the car, claiming a crowd was bad strategy, but they all knew it was Angel's ease with violence; bloody, heartless violence, that caused the former Watcher's discomfort.
It didn't cause Angel to let up, not even an inch, because Wesley's feelings weren't at stake here, Cordelia's life was. And the vampire swore up and down that he'd come back to every single one of them if there was something they weren't telling, and personally rip their eyes out of their sockets and stuff them where their tongues used to be if any one of them referred to his Seer as a 'hot chick' or 'tasty piece of ass' again.
Angel was steering his car toward a known demon hang out, hell bent on finding out *something*, if he had to kill everyone in town to do it, when his cell phone rang. Instinctively, he turned and surveyed the occupants of his car: Wesley, check. Gunn, check. The only other person who called his cell was Cordelia.
He swallowed hard and answered on the third shrill ring.
*
Exhausted, Cordelia surveyed her handy work. Most of what she was able to dismantle would serve as makeshift stakes. Except that they weren't wood. Or pointy. But they could be shoved into someone and do some serious damage, and that was what mattered. She'd managed to keep some pieces of the shelving large and intact, useful, she figured, for whacking someone over the head.
The latter she kept at the edge of the door. Knocking on the metal, she'd determined the location of the handle on the other side, and was able to figure out which way the door would swing when pulled open. The plan was that she'd be able to hear someone coming, pick up her weapon, and knock him out as soon as he opened the door.
She tucked a long, thin tube in the waistband of her pants and shorter ones in each sleeve of her shirt and each of her boots as well. She had to be careful though: she wanted to be prepared, not impale herself.
Satisfied at her work, and eternally grateful that she hadn't had any more visions, she lay down on the cold concrete, as far from the vent blowing cool air as possible, and in minutes, was asleep.
*
When he heard The Host's voice on the other end of his phone, Angel inadvertently growled. His face slipped into its vampiric visage for the merest of moments, then slid back into human form before any passing motorists could notice. He gripped the phone tightly to his ear.
"What?" the vampire snapped.
The Host's voice was fuzzy on the other end; it sounded like he was calling from another continent rather than two neighborhoods away.
"Well watch out sunny Los Angeles, there's a black cloud over the city tonight!" The Host exclaimed, hearing the irritation in the vampire's voice. "Calm down, big fella," he added. "Just little old me."
"What do you want?" Angel growled. He was losing patience, fast. His foot leadened on the gas and they shot through the crowded streets.
"Seems your little seeing bird is AWOL, yes?"
"Do you have information for me or are you just calling to send your sympathies?" Angel snapped.
There was a pause filled with static, then The Host's voice, even farther away than before. "First, let's deal with my hurt feelings that you didn't come to me before beating up everyone in town," he insisted.
Angel took a sharp left, ignoring the gasps of both Gunn and Wesley. "You never tell me anything useful," he bit out. "Didn't want to waste my time." He sped through a yellow light. "Kind of like you're doing now," he added. "Guess you're not the only prescient one here."
A muffled sniff on the other end. "Mm hmm. Well, your chica bonita is your link to the Powers. Not doing them any good to have her holed up in an old lifeguard tower on Sunset Bluff. Guess that's why they sent that info to me."
*Sunset Bluff*. Angel assessed his location with lightening speed, slammed on the brakes and squealed to a stop. The cell phone fell to the seat and he ignored it, accelerating once more as he turned the car in the other direction.
*
She had been really proud of herself, and really proud of her plan. So when Cordelia awoke to feel someone divesting her of all of her weapons, it was all the young Seer could do to keep from bursting into tears.
Fighting the urge to scream bloody murder, Cordelia looked up into the face of her captor. Expecting to see a demon, or some sort of hideous creature, she gasped at the human face: the face of someone's husband, someone's father, someone's boss.
Then, he smiled.
Where teeth should be would be more aptly described as needles. Rows and rows of sharp, jagged edges, diseased, yellowed and rotting from the inside. His eyes crinkled and glowed golden, then smoldered to inky black, so dark the pupils were gone and in their place rested dark marbles that pierced through her, chilling her to the soul.
And he was no longer someone's husband, someone's father, or someone's boss. He was someone's nightmare, the boogedy boogedy in the closet or under the bed that was chased away with the light.
Except he wasn't chased away with the light, he was here, real, in vivid, living detail, and he was scaring the hell out of her.
Cordelia dared herself not to cry out, not even to whimper, as she scuttled away from him on her rear end. The wall met her back, and she felt the scraps she'd torn from the newspaper beneath the palm of her hand. It didn't matter now, whether or not she remembered those visions. Something told her she wasn't going to get the chance to relay the details of them.
Somehow, she knew she was never going to see Angel again.
And for the second time, she burst into tears.
* There was more than one abandoned lifeguard tower on Sunset Bluff. More than ten, in fact. Sunset Bluff stretched fifteen miles of beach; sand and water that was closed to the public now because of known and unknown toxins polluting the shoreline.
Several cars were parked in the parking lot, some empty, some not so empty with foggy windows. Angel ignored them all, pulling into a spot relatively toward the middle of the shoreline. Wesley and Gunn both jumped out, weapons at the ready.
"Which one, man?" Gunn asked, pacing restlessly.
Angel shook his head. An eerie calm had settled over the agitated vampire. "Don't know," he muttered, tilting his head slightly and sniffing the breeze. "Hang on."
Gunn quieted down; Wesley was less than patient. He took several strides to the north, then stopped. "We should split up," he commanded. "Gunn and I can search the seven north of here, Angel, you can check this one," he pointed to the tower dead in front of them, "and the seven up that way."
Nodding, Gunn started toward Wesley. "Sounds like a plan," he concurred.
Angel stood still. The hair on the back of his neck bristled and he felt a wave of uneasiness filter through him. As quickly as it came, the sensation was gone. He was left with ... *something*. But he couldn't put his finger on what.
Concentrating, ignoring the questions from both his partners, he thought about Cordelia. *Talk to me...*
And suddenly, like a wave breaking off shore, it hit him. Tower 117. Cordelia was in Tower 117. He didn't know how he knew that, or why, but he was certain. As certain as he stood there, he knew he had to get to Tower 117. And soon.
*
Fingers wrapped into her hair, and Cordelia yelped as she was lifted from the floor. Her legs flailed beneath her, and she commanded them to straighten, to stand, before the creature ripped every strand of her hair out of her head.
"Good girl," the creature intoned, letting go as Cordelia found purchase for her feet on the floor. She leaned against the wall for support, but more or less stood her ground. Tears still ran from her eyes but she ignored them, staring straight into the inky darkness of the creature's eyes. It was everything she could do to keep from being ill.
Her lips pursed as the creature spoke again. Now, she could swear, there were living maggots, crawling in and out of his mouth, as though he was rotting right before her eyes. She fought to keep from gagging.
"I feel him close, the vampire with a soul," the creature told her.
Cordelia couldn't help the small smile that turned up the corners of her mouth. Her heart soared. She hadn't doubted Angel would find her.
Well, she had, but only for a minute.
The hand which had pulled her up by her hair now looked fifty years older, spidery veins running across it's knuckles under dry, cracked paper-thin skin. It reared back, and smacked her across the face.
She stood her ground, ignoring the stinging in her cheek and the tears that flooded her eyes.
"His coming should not give you joy!" the creature shouted. "He will die."
Cordelia tilted her head and peered around the creature, then snapped her head back when the monster threatened to hit her again. "Hope you got an army back there," she intoned, unable to help herself. "Cause unless you do, Angel's gonna kick your ass from here to the border."
The creature's eyes turned from ink black to firey red. Electricity crackled in the air between them. "I do not need an army," he retorted, sending a bolt through her shoulder where he touched her down to the balls of her feet. As the Seer crumpled to the ground, the creature turned his eyes pitiously toward her limp form. "I have magic."
*
Tower 117 loomed out of the darkness in an almost ghostly presence before them. Angel crept ahead, leaving Gunn and Wesley lagging almost a hundred yards behind. Neither human could feel the magic that permeated the place, but Angel sensed it with every fiber of his being. His nerves hummed and he bristled as his vampire visage slipped forth unbidden. He felt his fangs elongate in his mouth, and saw the momentary surprise on both Wesley and Gunn's faces as he turned back to urge them on.
If they weren't right behind him, the darkness could swallow them up, Angel feared. The magic surrounding this place was fierce. And deadly.
The door to the tower was sealed shut. Magically sealed. No amount of vampiric strength, even coupled with an ancient byzantine axe was going to budge the barrier. Frustrated, Angel swung the axe and crashed it through the window directly to the left of the door.
"So much for the sneaking up plan," Gunn muttered.
Angel ignored him. It was exactly what Cordelia's captors wanted to happen. Now there was no way to be taken by surprise. But it had to be done. Otherwise, they'd have paced the outside of the tower all night with no hope to break the magical barrier.
He slipped through the window with ease, and waited while Wesley and Gunn followed suit. Pursuing an unexplained instinct, Angel went directly to the rear of the tower, bypassing two closed doors on either side of the main room. He knew Cordelia wasn't behind either one of them, and wasn't about to waste time walking into a booby trap set just for him.
Gunn walked up to one of the doors Angel had ignored, and the vampire turned just in time. "Don't," he commanded in a low voice. "She's not there. Don't open the door."
His hand hesitated over the doorknob for just a moment longer, before Gunn finally nodded and dropped back, falling into line behind Wesley, and further ahead, Angel. The tower wasn't big, and it was only ten seconds later that Angel had stopped outside a door and was motioning for Wesley to fan to the right, Gunn to the left.
Once at the door to the room he was sure contained Cordelia, Angel took in an unnecessary breath as he felt his temple begin to throb. A dull, numbing pain spread quickly through his body, finding purchase in his legs and settling there, causing the vampire to groan slightly. Wesley looked questioningly at him. Angel only shook his head. There was no way he could explain anything now. Not that he'd have any idea what to say.
Fighting the sudden, urgent need to lay down, Angel put his hand on the heavy steel handle of the metal door separating him from Cordelia. It burned, but he held fast, gripping it tightly and using every ounce of his strength to pull it outward.
It resisted at first, then creaked and moaned before bursting open with force enough to knock all three backward. Angel took no pause to recover, simply retracted to his feet and moved forward, every muscle in his body tense and ready to fight. His legs still felt heavy and sluggish, but adrenaline propelled him forward.
Cordelia was in the far corner of the tiny room, slumped against the wall. Her hair had fallen into her face but Angel knew she was unconscious, and the sight unleashed a fury in him that caused him to growl menacingly at the man standing between him and his Seer.
It was one man, and Angel felt immediately victorious.
Until the man reared his head back, revealing decaying insides, and spewed a blue bolt from his mouth. It struck Angel square in the chest and sent him tumbling backward again.
*
From where he'd been thrown to the ground by the rush of energy that accompanied the opening of the metal door, Gunn could see Cordelia at the far end of the tiny room beyond, and was assessing their chances of escaping with the girl alive when the blunt end of a stake bounced off his bald head. He flicked his eyes away from Cordelia and saw Angel sprawled directly to his right.
"Hey, man, that - "
The look on Angel's face told him they were in grave danger. The vampire was on the floor, his shirt singed to pieces that hung off his arms and torso. A large, black burn scorched the middle of his chest, and wild panic hung in his eyes. A creature unlike any he'd seen before, like a dead man risen from the grave, was standing over the vampire.
Gunn slipped to his knees, grateful the creature was still focused on Angel. He held the stake in his hand, wondering what the hell he thought he was going to do with it since this obviously wasn't a vampire. But a glance in the room beyond, at the unconscious girl slumped in the corner, and he knew he had to do something. Wesley was across the room, also becoming coherent once again. He too seemed to be undetected, at least for the moment, as the creature pulled his hand back once more and sent another bolt through Angel.
This time the vampire cried out, fangs bared in feral anger and agonizing pain.
"Vampire with a soul," the creature bellowed. "You will die!"
Gunn nodded at Wesley, who held a smaller axe in one hand, and a cross bow in the other. Without warning, Wesley launched the cross bow, burying a stake in the creature's shoulder. It cried out, whirling around. Wesley lunged, striking hard with the axe, managing to lop off a good portion of the creature's face.
Maggots poured out of the massive hole. Gunn gagged, but remained upright. He ducked to avoid a bolt of magic, and it pulsated around him before exploding into a fireball somewhere above and to his left. He was already at a loss for what to do next, and Wesley seemed to be taking forever helping Angel to his feet.
The creature was descending on Gunn now, hands outstretched, and it sizzled another bolt past him before catching Gunn's arm in an invisible grip and forcing the stake from his hand. With a loud crack, Gunn felt his shoulder pulled out of its socket and his arm went limp from the elbow down. He cried out, closing his eyes, resigned to his death.
But it never came.
*
With full force, the renewed vampire launched himself onto the creature, snarling in full rage. He knocked the decaying corpse down, managing to get one foot hooked over the creature's leg, disabling movement. He pinned both arms with his hands, twisting its wrists so that bolts of magical energy were sent harmlessly to the wooden slats below them.
"Wesley!" Angel commanded, turning his head to look for the Englishman. "Chop this guy's head off, will you?"
Wesley nodded and raised his axe, looking only close enough to not chop anything off of his friend and boss. As soon as the blade tore through the paper thin flesh and maggots poured out, the ex-Watcher closed his eyes and dropped the axe, turning to regurgitate in the corner.
Angel kicked what remained of the creature's head away from it's rapidly shrivling body and rushed into the back room. He let adrenaline take him, ignoring the searing pain in his chest as he picked up Cordelia's limp form and made his way out of Tower 117.
*
She was almost afraid to open her eyes, fearing that the soft matress she felt beneath her and the warm comforter wrapped around her was part of a dream, and that if she woke, she'd find herself on the concrete floor of the tiny room with that horrid creature of a man standing over her.
Cordelia kept her eyes closed for a few more moments, listening hard, running her fingertips over and over the cool linen, pushing into the soft, deep mattress and flicking her nails at her bare thigh, just to make sure she wasn't still asleep.
Then she heard voices: familiar voices. The voices of the men she loved. Her family.
"Wes, did you finish the pot of coffee again?"
"It's only my first cup!"
"Coulda at least put on another pot. And where's my mocha creamer? You used that up, didn't you? I thought English people drank tea!"
"What do you mean *your* mocha creamer? *I* bought it. Come to think of it, *you* ate the last bag of popcorn! It was *Cordelia's* popcorn."
"Cordy ain't gonna need a bag of popcorn today, English. I'll get some more tomorrow."
"Along with more yogurt, I hope, because that was her's as well."
"I didn't eat no yogurt! I don't even like the stuff!"
"Guys, keep it down, will you? I could hear you from in the shower. Cordelia - "
She opened her eyes, unable to stop the large grin from spreading across her face. She wasn't on the concrete floor, with the precariously hung light bulb glaring above her. She wasn't staring at the large metal door, wondering which way it opened and what was on the other side. She was in her apartment, in her room, in her very own bed.
It was dark out, the clock at her bedside said it was 9:15. A glass of water stood beside her clock, and a bottle of asprin stood beside that.
She put her hand to her head. It was pounding. Major points to whichever one of them had thought of leaving the painkillers right there for her.
She shook slightly as she struggled with the child proof cap, finally bringing the bottle to her mouth and groaning as she tried to pry it open with her teeth.
"Gah!"
The cap popped off, and asprin rained everywhere. Cordelia muttered under her breath and managed to swipe two off the blanket covering her, swallowing them down quickly with water. She ignored the rest and tossed the near-empty bottle to the floor, the cap following closely behind.
Her eyes all but fell closed of their own accord as she snuggled deeper into her pillow.
"You're up."
It was Gunn, and it was an effort for Cordelia to open her eyes once more. "Mmm hmm. Gunn - "
He moved to the edge of the bed, perching himself in the chair that was already pulled alongside the matress. She hadn't noticed it was there until now, and it gave her a feeling of security. Someone had been watching over her; someone was always watching over her.
"How you feeling?" He gazed down at the strewn asprin and discarded bottle and cap. "You fought with the asprin."
She nodded, the pain in her head caustic. "Ah, yeah. God, my head hurts."
Gunn's palm caressed her forehead. "Yeah, Angel said those bolts hurt like a bitch. You'll be okay in a couple days."
"I don't even know what happened. Is Angel okay?"
"We're all fine. Worried about you."
"I think I'll be okay. It was so weird Gunn. It was like - there was this time, when I knew I was gonna die."
"We wasn't gonna let you." His voice was gruff with emotion.
Cordelia felt for his free hand and squeezed it. "I kind of knew that too." She smiled sheepishly. "Mostly. I knew you'd come."
"It took us a long time to find you - sorry 'bout that. We had no idea what happened to you. We was freaked. It was - " He stopped, bit his bottom lip, as if unsure of what to say.
Nodding, Cordelia frowned. "Yeah. It was. I just -I don't remember. I wish I could remember."
Gunn leaned forward. "Shh. It'll come to you." His voice lowered. "Just rest for now."
Sighing, Cordelia willed her body to relax, and she felt tension drain slowly out of her muscles. Her voice was a whisper when she replied: "Okay. Gunn?"
"Mm hmm."
"Could you just - stay there? I mean, sit there for a little while?" She peeked at him through lowered lids, a slight blush coloring her face for sounding so needy.
Gunn simply nodded and leaned back in the chair, getting comfortable. "I ain't goin' anywhere."
*
It hit like a vision, only harder. Not so much more painful, but longer, more vivid - everything was real. Like it was happening again, in slow motion so that she could absorb everything.
Cordelia thrashed in her bed, struggling against the strong arms holding her down. She cried out when she saw her captor again, biting down so hard on her lip she tasted blood. He was more horrendous than the first time she'd seen him, maggots and worms crawling through every opening on his mangled and whithered form.
It was everything she could do to keep from retching right then and there.
Someone was still holding her down, but she knew it wasn't her captor for he stood above her spitting blue lightening bolts at her. It was almost all over, things were going to go dark, and Cordelia began to cry.
All over again.
The arms pinning her down loosened, and cool hands stroked down the sides of her face, taking her tears with them. Long fingers circled around the nape of her neck, massaging the hollow just above her shoulder blades. Finally, a soothing voice, cool breath against her cheek, words in her ear.
"Cordy, you're safe. Come back to me."
It took several moments: Cordelia shivered, pulled herself tighter into the embrace, leaning herself against the wide, muscled chest. No heartbeat -though she'd known it was Angel from the moment he touched her.
She whimpered. "Angel..."
*
He shifted his weight, gathering her into him and pulling the comforter along to keep her covered. She heard him sigh as he pressed his chin against the side of her face, rocking her back and forth.
More tears came then, tears she hadn't counted on and didn't want but couldn't help; they came hard and fast in a torrent, ripping sobs from her throat and burying them into Angel's shirt.
It was a long time before she calmed again. She didn't look up, simply turned her head and rested against his chest, letting the stillness sink through to her bones. At least 10 minutes passed before Angel finally spoke.
"Everything came back to you."
It wasn't a question, but Cordelia nodded anyway. She offered no more information, merely tightening her grip around the vampire's middle. She felt the muscles in his back tense and relax before he asked, "tell me?"
Cordelia sniffled and began in a shaky voice.
"I was at the gym; I know it's stupid but sometimes I go there after work, cause I'm so riled up, you know? Can't come home and sleep or anything."
She looked up at Angel, who simply nodded. He spent hours in his basement some nights, just training. Fighting nothing. He knew.
"I got home after midnight. I don't know what time it was. I came in the apartment and he was already in here. Must have already - "
Cordelia stopped abruptly, bringing both hands up to her head and running them through her hair. She seemed to be trying to compose herself, but it wasn't anywhere close to working. Her arms went back around Angel's waist just as she broke.
"Dennis! He's gone, Angel. Dead." Sobs rose up in her throat but she shook her head, twisting the soft black material of Angel's shirt in her slender fingers. Her voice lowered. "Not dead, you know what I mean."
The vampire nodded and said, barely audible, "Yeah. I know."
Now she pulled away, holding Angel at arms length. "Why?" she asked, her voice raising pitch, dangerously nearing hysteria. "Why would he vanquish Dennis? He never hurt anyone!"
Angel shook his head. "I don't know, Cordy. I guess maybe he tried to stop - "
"I don't understand!" she wailed. Tears coursed down her cheeks. "I don't understand!"
From over her head, Angel saw Wesley and Gunn appear in the doorway. Gunn raised his eyebrows as if to ask if there was anything they could do. Angel shook his head minutely, moving two fingers to shoo them out of the room. They went, but Angel could tell, not far; both men loitered just outside Cordelia's bedroom door. Angel turned his attention back to the girl in his arms.
She'd collapsed again and was sobbing quietly, restlessly wiping at her face with one hand. Angel caught it, squeezed it gently into his and she pulled herself back once more, gazing up at him with huge, wet eyes. They were red and puffy, cheeks streaked with wet, salty trails. It broke Angel's unbeating heart.
Maybe that was why he didn't push her back when she leaned closer to him, sobs hitching in her throat as she pressed her lips to his in a desperate kiss. It surprised him, but at the same time, didn't - his mind didn't bother to stop and ponder that.
It wasn't a big kiss, not long or deep, but warm, and Angel found himself reluctant to let her go even when she pulled away. Their eyes connected, and Cordelia merely blinked, brought a hand up to her lips and touched them, as if wondering if what had just happened had really just happened.
Angel didn't say anything, simply kept her gaze and refused to look away, refused to look ashamed or sorry for something about which he was neither. Cordelia blinked again, drew her lower lip inbetween her teeth and released it slowly.
"It killed Dennis," she shook her head and thought of different words. "Made him go away," she repeated finally, voice low. "It could have killed you." She leaned closer, and for a moment, Angel thought she was going to kiss him again.
"I almost lost you," she whispered, her hands coming up to cup the vampire's cheeks, thumbs stroking the contours of his face before dropping down to the front of his shirt, where severe burns healed beneath.
Angel swallowed. "I almost lost you," he said back. Then he blinked. His voice became more gruff when he added, "it was after me."
Cordelia nodded solemly. There was no accusation in her eyes, no blame. Just sad resignation.
Still, guilt slammed into Angel with gale force. "It's my fault - "
Her brown hair fanned out around her as she shook her head resolutely. "No. You didn't vanquish Dennis. You didn't keep me locked in a tiny concrete box for god knows how long, without food or water, leaving me to have vision after vision - "
She lifted her head, eyes wide. "Oh god. The visions. I tore out scraps of paper to remember to tell you."
Angel shook his head. His voice was almost a whisper. "Don't. Don't worry about it."
Cordelia looked around, as though the scraps of paper would materialize from where she'd left them in the corner of the small room in Tower 117. She didn't need them, she remembered, every vivid detail. She never forgot, but always worried she would. One freak day, she'd have an excruciating, painful scratch n sniff vision and actually forget what it was about.
Angel quietly called Wesley back into the room and Cordelia told them every detail of the four visions she'd had, including the useless one of herself in the tower, and the one of what she now knew was Sunset Bluff. Wesley dutifully took notes. When she was done, she sighed, exhaustion overtaking her, and she asked Angel, without shame, to lay with her, hold her while she slept.
Wesley merely cleared his throat and left, promising to look into the events of the visions, and wishing Cordelia to feel better quickly. Angel lay down with his Seer, his arm cradling her to his chest, her head resting against the gauzy fabric of his shirt, fingers lazily toying with the seam of the fabric on his other side.
They didn't talk anymore; not about the horrible experience Cordelia had just endured, nor the
creature's motivations, nor about the small but not insignificant kiss. The vampire and his Seer just lay there, in companionable silence, Angel's hand curled up and tangled in Cordelia's hair, Cordelia's hand twisting over and under the hem of Angel's shirt, legs entwining and touching in every possible place because of the unspoken fear that one might lose the other one
day.
And neither was ready for that day, just yet.
End.