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Summary: Second in a series. I felt Angel’s grief and pain was too short lived and unrealistic considering the fact Buffy is meant to be the only woman he has ever loved in his 250+ years of life. So this series of mine is basically a rewrite of Angel season 3 and probably some rewrites of Buffy season 6 to fit in with it. This is my world of Buffy and Angel instead of the Jossverse, which we all know means Buffy and Angel have to be together in some way.
A/N: I am not intending to completely rewrite every part of every script, if there are parts missing just assume they went the same way they did in the show.
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Angel appears through the basement door. Senses the tension, sees Gavin.
“Is there a problem?”
“Problem? No problem. Mr. Park was just leaving.”
“No, actually, I just arrived.” Gavin reaches into his briefcase, pulls out a thick document, walks over and sets it on the counter. “This is a list of 57 city code violations for your hotel including earthquake proofing, asbestos and termites. Be advised that I've filed a copy of this complaint with the City Planning Office.” Angel doesn't even glance at the document. Stares at Gavin.
“Gee, 57, huh? Is that a lot?” Angel and Gavin hold one another's gaze for a beat before...
“I'll be in touch.” Gavin turns, glances at Fred once again and strides out.
“Okay, sure, minion of darkness, Satan's toadie, but hey, nice suit.” Fred steals glances at Angel as he picks up the document.
“Hi, Fred. Good to see you out and about.”
“It is, isn't it? Out and about. I've been forking with Gunn-”
“Well, that's really, um...” Cordelia screams and Fred dives under the counter. Angel, Wes and Gunn rush to Cordy’s side. “Talk to me. Are you alright?”
“There's a coin... And, um... two clawed things. It's in Chinatown, I think. A herbalist shop.” Wesley and Gunn spring into combat-prep mode, hurry into the office. Angel stays with Cordy. She sees his concern.
“I'm fine. Caught me off guard is all. Go. Just find that coin. It has a hole in it.” Angel helps Cordelia to her feet. Watches with concern as she crosses to the lobby's bathroom.
*
Angel steps into the office carrying a broadsword.
“Got a name or a face for these things yet?” He tries to be all business but it’s obvious to Wesley he is remembering times in another place when it was another person who was asking and another person who was answering and he himself was in a different position. Fred glances at Angel. Smiles nervously
“I think we might be looking at either a Wan-shang Dhole ...Or possibly a Cantonese Fook-beast.” Gunn steps up behind Angel in the doorway, battle axe in hand, a duffel bag of weapons slung over his shoulder.
“I say we figure out what these things are after we find that coin. We're burnin' moonlight.” Angel looks to Wes.
“Sounds like a plan.” He closes the books. Follows after Angel and Gunn. Angel stops, turns back to Fred.
“Fred, I need you to
do something for me.”
*
Angel's convertible, cruising slowly. Gunn's at the wheel scanning buildings as they pass. Wesley's riding shotgun. Angel's in the back, lost in thought.
“Five herb shops in Chinatown. We've been to four. -- How come whatever we're searching for is always in the last place we look?”
“I suppose it's one of the unwritten laws of being a dick.” Gunn shoots Wes a "what did you just call me?" look. “You know, sleuth, gumshoe, sherlock.”
“All I know is, you use the word "dick" again and we're gonna have a problem.” Gunn glances out the window. “What's the name of this last place?”
“"Van Hoa Dong." It should be up here on the left.” They ride along for a beat. Wesley turns to Angel. “How was Cordelia when you talked to her?” Angel shakes his head a little, obviously trying to rid his head of thoughts he doesn’t want to be thinking, or more specifically memories of things he doesn’t want to remember.
“She said she was fine.” Wesley obviously reads him.
“You don't believe
her?” Angel looks at him.
“Why wouldn’t I?”
“You just seem preoccu…” Wesley trails off as he realises why Angel is preoccupied and wants the ground to open up and swallow him on the spot for his stupidity.
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Angel stands at the counter. A nice place setting in front of him, and a second intended for Cordy. She's standing by the coffeemaker, pouring a cup.
“Cordy, I'm glad you're feeling better, but I'm, y'know...”
“... you're not
really a foodie. I know. But I saw that great big, industrial kitchen we
have and never use and I thought... one of these days, we should get somebody
in here who can cook.” She grabs the hot Eggos, hurries them over, drops them
on their plates. Smiles. Picks up her fork. After a beat. “Well, here we are.”
“Here we are...” Cordy sets down her fork. Decides to bring up what's bugging her. She looks into Angel's eyes.
“Angel, what you did for me was unbelievably selfless and brave and amazing. And it's so great to think that my next vision will just be blindingly painful and not turn me back into the Elephant Man or anything.”
“I hear a big but coming.”
“What if that guy you freed is someone or something that's truly terrible? -- Wolfram & Hart won this time. And it's all my fault.”
“It's not about
winning, Cordelia. It's about what's at stake. And in this particular scenario,
you were way more important than winning.” Angel picks up his fork. “I can't worry about that guy I set free. I
did what I had to do.” He shrugs. “I'll deal with the consequences when they
happen.” Cordy smiles. Angel tries to smile back. “Besides it makes me a little
happier, it makes me feel a little less…she did the same thing, she was willing
to condemn the people she could save in the future to save Dawn.” Cordy smiles
at him again.
“I’m glad you didn’t
greet the sun.” Angel looks down and doesn’t answer. Thunder rumbles in the
distance.
*
A shaman’s hut in the dead of night. The rain is pouring down outside, as a handful of small bones are tossed into frame. A shaman is reading the patterns in the bones. He has the black eyes and dark skin of a mestizo. The hut has simple furnishings authentic to the mountains of Honduras. The table is strewn with artefacts of the mystical arts. Two or three small gourd bowls catch drips of rain that leak through the roof. The Shaman throws the bones a second time, sees something in their pattern, suddenly looks up, concern on his face. He turns to the door just before it swings open. Darla soaked to the skin, a worn jean jacket pulled around her pregnant body, steps into the hut. Closes the door behind her. She sweeps wet hair off her face.
“You're a difficult
man to find, Seflor. You know why I'm here?” The Shaman nods. Darla steps
forward, weary, but determined. “You,
are my last hope. I'm told you are
very powerful. Very wise. I've tried everything and I can't get rid of it. So I
ask you...” She steps closer. “What is this thing growing in me and how is it
possible?”
“The father is also a...” He can't bring himself to say the word.
“…Vampire? Yes, though, not a very good one.”
“I will need some blood.” Darla steps very close. Can't ignore the irony.
“I'll show you mine, if you show me yours.” The Shaman holds her gaze. Not sure if he was just threatened. He crosses the small hut and picks up a knife. Crosses back to Darla. She holds out her hand for him to cut. The Shaman raises the knife. Ancient, but sharp. Brings the blade close to Darla's hand. The Shaman is nervous. Darla snatches the knife out of his hand. “Men are such babies.” She makes a quick, confident cut across her palm. Bright red blood dribbles out. The Shaman catches it in a mortar bowl. He turns to his table, opens a small, carved box with several smaller containers within. Grabs what looks like crumpled leaves, a pinch of yellow powder, adds them to the-blood, mixes all the elements with a pestle.
“This has never failed me.” He pours the blood mixture into his palm, wipes his hands together and then places his bloody hands on her belly. The Shaman's face slowly contorts into a mask of pain. He's either seeing or feeling something terrible. Then suddenly, he's hurled across the hut by an unseen force. He turns to Darla, stares at her in terror. “I cannot help you. No man can. This is not meant to be known.” Darla shakes her head.
“Yeah, yeah. Like I haven't heard that before. -- I guess there's only one thing left to do.” She puts her hands on her swollen belly. “Time to go visit Daddy.”