Author: Webgirly

Title: Alternate "The Shroud of Rahmon"

Email: [email protected]

Summary: What if it had been Cordy bitten instead of Kate...

Disclaimer: No money is exchanging hands for this work of fiction. All characters are owned by Joss Whedon, Warner Bros, etc. No infrigment is intended.

Author’s Notes: The first is my twisted version of the eppy 'The Shroud of Rahmon' if it was Cordy that bitten, rather than Kate, (who doesn't feature at all im my version... it would be too complicated..) The second is the 'what happened next' aftermath.

Webmistress notes: I post both stories as one to keep it simplier on us all *g* enjoy!

Cordelia sighed. Resting her chin on her hand, she pulled her eyes

away from the desk and its clutter. A mixture of irritation and worry

crossed her features.

Irritation with herself for slipping away on a stupid hunch, *without

telling anyone,* and worry at what her friends were involved in.

Earlier that day, Gunn's cousin Lester had come to him for help. A

group of petty thief demons had plans to steal the Museum of Natural

History's latest acquisition, the Shroud of Rahmon. Lester was supposed to

be the driver for the little operation, until Gunn, ever the big

brother figure, bailed him out. Of course, at that point, no-one was really

sure what they planned to steal, or how dangerous it would be.

Angel had left to investigate the demons, posing as one of their own.

In the meantime, she and Wesley's research had uncovered the target of

this years' 'annual demon steal-athon'. In fact, if Cordy was honest

with herself, they had found out everything they needed to know, but

somehow, she just couldn’t relax. She had a bad feeling and over the years

Cordelia had learned to trust that feeling. So, she took it upon

herself to find out more. Which began with sneaking out and ended with her

breaking into the museum curator's office in the dead of night to rifle

through his files. "Great Cor," she muttered, "note to self: ignore

all future impulsive urges."

She sat there for a moment, sifting through the information she had

gathered, everything from shipping invoices to accident records and had,

unsurprisingly, found nothing. "Blah blah, Shroud. Blah blah,

psychosis. Blah - blah - BLAH."

Not bothering to clear the chaos she had created, she grabbed her purse

and headed for the frosted glass door that led to the hallway. "To

hell with this! I am grabbing some much needed sanity and going home."

The feeling of unease was still with her, but after a hot bath and

nights' sleep, she figured she would go into work tomorrow and talk Angel

out of the whole stupid thing…somehow.

-o0o-

"This is all going too fast."

"Gunn is here too, I wasn’t ready for that……,dammit, why didn’t he

listen to me?" He grunted, "Got to concentrate…"

Angel was standing in the corridor, mind swirling, a drunk, giddy,

nauseating feeling. A sickening feeling of panic and hysteria burbled up

in his throat. From behind him, Menlo and Vyasa bickered. They seemed

to have been doing a lot of that in the last few minutes. Suddenly

Menlo broke away from them. "Finger prints! We left finger prints!"

"What the hell does he think he's doing?! We can't hold this thing on

our own…."

Angel felt his grip on the box slipping, and a part of him wanted to.

Just drop it and run, as fast and as far as he could. He could

physically carry Gunn if he had to. The hysteria he had swallowed down started

to wriggle back up his throat.

"Just drop the box and run!" he screamed in his head.

"No!" He answered back, "I wont let anyone else die here! I can't. I

can't leave Gunn, and we can't fight our way out…..not now…..too

many…."

He shook his head vigorously, trying to dispel the voice. The voice he

knew was right, and he dimly realised it was himself, his sense of

self-preservation. Every part of him was begging him to run, he could

actually feel it. But he couldn't leave, not now. Gunn would be killed

just like that little man was.

"What was his name?.." Angel couldn't remember.

He had been so small, and Vyasa had killed him so easily. He just tore

that little mans head clean off without a second though and Angel could

do nothing to stop him. Angel realised that he envied Vyasa that. He

had no guilt about killing such a small insignificant human, just a

certain amount of pleasure.

"you envied that, and now" the name of the little security guard came

to him "well, now *Bob* doesn't have a head." Angel stifled the sudden

urge to snigger.

Across from him Gunn started to murmur under his breath, "I gotta put

it down. Flies, they're…they're in my head…………" Gunn abruptly dropped

the box, and backed away towards the wall, slumping there, pleading

"get away from it….. get away.."

Angel felt anger surge up, like bile rising to the back of his throat.

"What is that little twerp trying to do now? Does he actually want us

to get caught?! That's it," he realized, "he wants us to get caught.

He knows I'll be stuck in a prison cell then, waiting until the sun

rises…"

His anger rose quickly, soon he would slip into game face. The urge to

lift that little son-of-a-bitch up by the throat was itching at him,

and he imagined with a smile how satisfying it would be to let the small

bones of Gunn's vertebrae crack between his fingers. He was vaguely

aware of shouting at him. Abuse just pouring from his mouth, unbidden.

The whispering in his head urged him on, telling him that Gunn deserved

to die, that all humans died one way or another anyway, their lives

meant little.

A different voice than his own voice of reason.

Moving towards Gunn, his figure small and prone, something in Angel

recognised the vulnerability that he had seen in all of Angelus' victims,

and now, all of those he helped. The fog in his mind swirled and

cleared, and Angel reached his arm out to Gunn, glad of the clarity he now

felt. He would get Gunn through this. Whatever was affecting them this

way, he would make sure Gunn made it out alive. That was the most

important thing, and he could focus on that…. No-one else would die here.

Before he reached Gunn, Angel heard a sound that sent a chill of dread

through his lifeless veins. They weren't alone here. An innocent life

was about to be thrown into their midst, and that person would

undoubtedly be killed unless Angel could find a way to prevent it, and without

endangering Gunn.

The round bronze handle of the paned door squealed as it turned.

Visible through the opaque glass was the fragmented silhouette of a person,

and Angel took a deep, unnecessary breath.

-oOo-

Wesley was sick of walking. "I feel like I've been traipsing through

this god-awful museum for hours." He grumbled to himself. Cordelia had

slunk off whilst he had his nose in a book, Angel was getting himself

into more trouble than he knew, and Lord knows where Gunn had gone. All

in a days work for an ex-watcher… ex being the operative word here. No

self respecting member of the council would let things go along in such

a manner…unorganized, no apparent plan…just people running off willy-

nilly on a whim.

Sighing, Wesley removed his spectacles and massaged the sore area

between his eyes. It was a bit late for foresight, he admonished. The

focal point of this little excursion was to find Angel.

Wesley was convinced the robbery would take place tonight, and he

dreaded to think what would happen if the Shroud fell into the wrong hands.

Wesley dimly realised that under the circumstances, the wrong hands

would include Angel's.

Resolute, Wesley replaced his spectacles, smoothed his jacket, and

stood tall. He would find Angel. Time was short, so he was going to have

to come up with a plan. Wandering aimlessly through this maze of a

museum wasn’t going to get him anywhere. Logically, he decided that as

the Shroud wasn't yet out for display, he could find the location of it

in the staff area, possibly the curator's office.

Walking now with new purpose, Wesley headed towards the nearest door

marked ‘Staff Only’.

-oOo-

Cordelia brusquely swung the door open. She was muttering and cursing

under her breath, and before she had time to stop she became aware of

voices and movement on the other side. Freezing, she stopped dead in

her tracks, just in time for the momentum of the door to pull her off

balance. She clung to the door handle for balance as it arced out, her

heels clacking madly on the tiled floor. Gaining her balance and

composure, Cordelia looked up sheepishly through her unruly hair. She

expected to see museum security, or cleaners, she hadn't expected to come face

to face with some of the most ugly-ass demons she had seen in a long

time.

So, this was it. The steal-athon was going on tonight, and she was slap

bang in the middle of it. Scanning the room, she searched the faces

for someone who may show sympathy, maybe even a human. She locked eyes

with a familiar face, and suddenly everything fell into place.

Angel.

She could see Gunn slumped to the floor behind him, head in his hands.

She opened her mouth to call his name, then though better of it. For a

while she just stared, slack-jawed, surveying the scene before her.

The two demons in the background had turned to face her, and neither of

them looked very impressed at her appearance. She had no doubt they

would kill her if she didn't think fast.

With the ease of an accomplished actress, Cordelia slipped into

frightened mortal mode, "Wha….what are you doing here? The museum closes at

6pm. Um, This area is restricted to staff…" she trailed off, pretended

to just notice Vyasa and Menlo lurking in the background. "Woah! Erm,

look, I don't want to interrupt…I..I'll just be going home now," she

added with an uncharacteristic stutter.

The smaller demon appeared to be quite disturbed by her intrusion.

"We can't have any witnesses," he glanced over at his larger, scarier

counterpart. "Deal with her."

Cordy didn't like the look on the demon's face as he stalked towards

her. Grim and determined, but with a little sparkle of anticipation… It

sent a shiver down her spine.

-oOo-

The demon strode towards her, and Cordelia risked a wild-eyed glance in

Angel's direction, one that plainly translated to, "Do something you

big doof!"

Angels eyes were locked with hers, and Cordelia could see something

there that made her doubt, just for a moment, that he would help her. He

was coming undone, but without his help, she wouldn't make it out

alive. Thinking fast, she started to plead,

"No, please. Look, I'll j-just go home, and no-one will ever hear of

this.… please… do you think I care if you rip off this loaded

museum?…… they don’t pay me enough to -- die-- for them…" Her voice trailed

off, quavering, and small. She was backing away, small, unsteady steps,

tears welling, threatening to spill over.

It had the desired effect. From the conflicting emotions flitting

across Angel's face, a steeling resolution won over. His right arm snapped

out across Vyasa's chest, blocking his path. Without taking her eyes

from Cordelia, he growled, "This one's mine."

-oOo-

Angel was staring at Cordelia intently. He was acutely aware of the

wild look in her eyes. Something close to panic. Panic well contained.

He smiled, a wolfish, predator's smile. She had guts, and more courage

that she ought, given how fragile she really was in his world.

He began his approach to his prey… silent, slow paces, never taking

his eyes from her. Her eyes widened a little as she took in his

expression. Angel noted her heartbeat rapidly increase, and a growl escaped

his lips. The smell of fear was intoxicating, and the thrill of the

chase came to him. Teasing prey, terrifying them, it made their heart beat

faster, so when he finally drank from them, the blood gushed so fast

and so freely, it made him want to throw back his head and howl.

And the terrified woman before him would taste so good.

-oOo-

Angel was looking at her like he wanted to tear strips out of her

throat. It sent a cold shiver down her spine.

Cordelia wasn't stupid. She knew why he was acting this way.

She just had no idea how to snap it out of him. The only thing she

could do, was talk to him.

"What are you going to do?" her voice was small and pleading.

"Nothing darlin'. Not just yet anyway. But don't worry, it wont be

long now, I just need to decide, where on your soft, warm body I should

sink my teeth into," Angel purred, his Irish lilt becoming stronger, as

though Angelus was surfacing.

She sucked in a sharp breath. Her time was fast running out, and she

wasn't getting through to him. It almost seemed as though he didn’t

recognise her any more.

"Please, I just want to go home… to my family.." she whispered.

The word 'family' seemed to have some effect on him, and for a moment,

he looked at her. Right at her, as though he could see her. Cordelia

nearly laughed out loud, and had to fight the desire take his hand and

lead him out of the museum. Angel blinked several times, and his eyes

reconnected with hers.

Blank and unfeeling, Cordelia could find no sign of her friend in them.

-oOo-

Seeing her shoulders slump, and the look of resignation cross the

woman's eyes, Angel realised the moment had come. He had to strike now,

before she became so resigned to her death, she no longer feared it.

The kill was so much sweeter with fear.

He lunged at her. Moving so fast, she barely had time to gasp in

surprise.

He wrapped his right arm tightly around her waist, crushing her ribs so

the air was knocked from her. His free left arm came up to caress her

face.

She tried to struggle, her breath coming out in whimpers. "Shhh

darlin'. It'll all be over soon. Granted, it will be painful, and

terrifying, but, soon all the same."

-oOo-

Angel's body was pressed against her, and drawing breath was becoming

increasingly difficult. She wriggled slightly against him, trying to

move into a position that would make it easier to breath, but Angel just

chuckled darkly and tightened his grip.

He looked into her eyes, scanning them for the myriad of emotions that

were running through them. She could see the satisfaction in his eyes

at the wild fear in her eyes, and looking into them, she realised she

was going to die.

The fear of dying wasn't the emotion at the forefront of her mind

though. All she could think was that she would die at the hands of her best

friend. It was inevitable she realised now, and she had been stupid to

realise she would die any other way. It was almost poetic.

Angel didn’t notice that emotion. If he had, he ignored it. He gave

her one last wolfish smile, and tangled his hand in her hair, yanking

her head to the side to expose the soft, thin skin of her throat to him.

Panic grasped her, and in the moments she believed to be her last, she

clung to life, she struggled, and tried to scream, anything that might

work. He tightened his grip on her again, and in gameface now, lowered

his face to her neck.

He was so close, she could smell the aftershave he wore, and feel her

breath fluttering through his hair. As his fangs pressed against her

throat, she tried one final time to reach her friend.

Stretching up as much as she could, she put her mouth to his ear and

whispered,

"Angel?"

Her voice was weak, and she could barely push her breath past her lips,

but she knew he heard her.

-oOo-

The world swirled like fog into Angel’s consciousness, and he suddenly

felt acutely aware of who he was holding, and why.

Cordelia’s body was stiff, and he heartbeat frantic, the smell of fear

washing over him.

He was still aware of the men behind him, most of them intent on him

killing the helpless body he held in his arms, and realised he couldn’t

turn back now.

His grip relaxed on her waist, and he moved his hand to the small of

her back. With his face still lowered to he neck, he lowered his lips,

and kissed her lightly, an action intended to reassure her. His hand

massaged the small of her back gently, and he whispered in her ear,

"trust me."

Cordelia’s body relaxed, leaning into his body and her heartbeat

slowed. He could feel her relief, and most overwhelming of all, her total

trust of him. He felt a warm rush of pride as he realised how

unconditional his friendship with Cordy was, and noted the irony of that as he

sunk his teeth into Cordelia's throat.

He felt her body stiffen slightly, and her suck in a small breath,

before she relaxed once more into his embrace.

He had never fed from anyone willing before. Granted, he had fed from

Buffy, but she had only let him to save his life. While she urged him

on with her words and actions, her body betrayed her. She resisted.

Unconsciously, she struggled, and the experience was no different that

it had been with the countless other struggling victims he had fed from.

This was different. Cordelia's body was relaxed and pliant. He felt

no resistance from her at all. No tension in her muscles, her heart

beat calm, and the smell of her fear was gone, replaced by her own scent.

Cordy's perfume, the raspberry conditioner she used every day, and her

own unique smell.

He felt Cordelia's arms slowly snake around his waist, under his

jacket, hidden from the onlookers. The movement sent sharp jolts through his

body, and he almost felt as though he could feel her on his skin. He

loosened his fingers in her hair, gently stroking them across the nape

of her neck.

Judging it was time to stop, that she would be convincing pale, but in

no way at risk, he relaxed his jaw's grip on her, at the same time,

manoeuvring his arm around her back, in a more supportive position,

intending to gently lower her body to the cold floor. Cordelia's arms only

wrapped tighter around his back, clenching his shirt in her fists,

holding a tight grip.

He raised his head, and looked questioningly into her eyes, slightly

concerned, and Cordelia dark eyes stared unfaltering back at him. She

held his gaze, and with a slight start, Angel saw the look of desire in

her eyes. Her lips were slightly parted, and she gazed upon his vampire

visage with soft, loving eyes.

He wanted to hold her then. To kiss her, and forget where he was, and

the danger she was in. And for a moment he almost did.

He looked into her eyes, and cupped his hand to her face…. "Stay down"

he whispered tenderly, and gently lowers her to the ground. Raising

his body back up to full height, he spins around to face the others, a

large, wicked grin, pressed across his face.

-o0o-

The site that greeted Wesley was one that he always dreaded, and hoped

he'd never see, though he always knew, at the back of his mind, that he

would. In his line of… work, it was something one could never avoid.

That didn’t make it any easier.

-o0o-

*Some time earlier*

After what seemed like an ice age, Wesley had finally found a map,

marking out the curator's office, along with various other staff related

areas. Located on the top floor of the building, Wesley had opted to

take the stairs, which at the time, seemed a reasonably sensible idea.

The elevator would be noisy, and if the double doors opened out into a

hazardous situation, there really would be no-where to run.

Wesley had never been to the Southern Californian Museum before, much

less climbed the 587 stairs to the top floor. By the time he reached

the top floor, he was cursing himself.

Chest heaving, he clung to the banister at the top of the staircase,

legs weak, and glared at the ominous elevator doors, which stared

innocently back.

He swept his gaze across the deserted hallway, returned his gaze to the

elevator doors, and spat, "Hazardous situation my arse". He glared

accusingly at the elevator, which in turn returned its unfaltering

innocent stare.

Just as he opened his mouth to launch another tirade of abuse at the

elevator, he froze. Mouth still agape, he slowly made a 180o turn.

"God no…" he whispered.

-o0o-

Running to Cordelia's side, and coming to a skidding halt, Wesley

dropped to his knees beside her.

"Cordelia?" He called to her, voice raised, hoping to hear a response.

She was deathly pale, and he could see no reaction to his calls.

He took her shoulder, and shook her firmly, "Cordelia?! Can you hear

me?" he called again, still receiving no response.

Checking for a pulse, he put his fingers to her throat, pressing for a

pulse, when he froze. Removing his hand, Welsey pulled Cordelia's hair

away from her shoulders, exposing her neck, "Oh god.." he exhaled

raggedly, seeing the telltale punctures on her skin.

Moving quickly now, in equal parts panic and urgency, he took her wrist

in his hands, and searched for a pulse, at the same time, lowering his

cheek to her face, to see if she was still breathing. For a long, long

moment… there was nothing. Wesley couldn't be sure how long, and

berated himself for not counting. "Dammit Wesley. Stop. Just stop, you

can help her, if you just keep your head". Taking a deep calming

breath, he continued to listen, and feel for life.

And then, so weak, he could barely feel it, was her heartbeat. It was

weak, and her breathing shallow, but she was still alive.

Breathing a huge breath of relief, he has obviously been holding,

Wesley smiled. Gathering Cordy into his arms, he lifted her up, careful to

keep her head supported, and headed towards the elevator.

-o0o-

The room was dark, and silent, except for the small 'beep, beep' noise

coming from the monitors to her left.

Cordelia woke slowly, her eyelids sticky, and her mouth dry. Wesley

was sitting in a plastic hospital chair, head back, snoring softly. She

smiled slightly as the sight, Wesley, rumpled and tired, still keeping

up his dutiful vigil.

She opened her mouth to call his name, but her throat was dry, and all

she managed was a small squeak. It was enough for Wesley, whose eyes

fluttered, as he woke.

"Cordelia"

He rose from his chair, to stand by her side.

"How are you feeling?"

"Like I was out all night drinking, with a group of Russians" she

replied wryly. "Where's Angel?"

Wesley visibly blushed. "He's here. In the waiting room down the

hall. Under the circumstances, he thought it would be better if his wasn’t

the first face you woke to. Under the circumstances, I have to agree.

But, he feels terribly about what happened. I don’t think you need to

worry about that…" he trailed off as he saw the expression on his

friend's face.

"Wesley…" she started. She didn’t need to finish, the

tone of her voice, and the look on her face said it all.

He nodded slightly, and looked at her with wordless awe and respect.

He was proud of the woman she had grown into. Very few people could

separate Angel from his demon. Even Buffy, despite the intense love they

had shared, had always seen a blurred line where Angel ended and the

demon began. Cordelia merely accepted the fact that her friend wasn't perfect with

a shrug and a smile.

"I'll go tell him you're awake"

She counted his footsteps echoing down the corridor, getting further

away. "One, two, three, four. Five, six" a pause, or possibly carpet, she

wasn’t sure. Wesley's measured even footsteps took one more step..

A short pause, then 4 bounding footfalls, stopping just outside the

door.

Angel's head slowly peered into her darkened room.

She smiled, "Hey."

He obviously took that as a cue to enter, and make a few cautious steps

towards her bed.

"Hey. How… how are you?"

"I'm alright. Little groggy, but fine. They got me wired up good

here." She raised her arm, indicating to the IV drip in her arm.

"Oh" Angel face fell, and he dropped his gaze to the floor, "Sorry."

Cordelia hadn't intended on making him feel bad.

"No really, I'm fine. I kinda like it."

He raised his eyes slightly and stared at her, eyebrow raised.

"No. Really. Its not that bad. It never fails to amaze me, you loose

some blood? They pump it right back in there. Dehydrated? They got

that covered too." She raised her arm, indicating to the saline IV drip

there.

"I think at lunch they swap that for a bag of smooshed up potatoes and

apple sauce."

Angel finally raised his eyes to hers, a little uncertain, she smiled

back. He wrinkled his nose slightly,

"That's gross."

She shrugged slightly and smiled, "Hospital food."

~o0o~

Wesley watched the couple from the door, smiling to himself.

Angel was sitting it the chair he had vacated, leaning over Cordelia,

her hands clutched in his, talking in hushed voices, as though sharing

some secret. Every so often, they would burst into laughter, or giggle

with one another, until Cordy winced, and Angel would immediately jump

up to fluff her pillows, or stroke her head.

It was the same dance he'd seen Angel go through a hundred times with

Cordelia. Always her protector, he caught her when she fell, he soothed

her when vision wracked through her body, he had almost lost her once,

and Cordy was the only person he knew who could really make Angel

smile.

Watching them, he couldn't understand why he was the only one who

seemed to realise what was blatantly obvious.

He shook his head, and muttered under his breath, "Love is blind", and

turned to head back to the waiting room.

~oOo~

Angel looked towards the door of the Cordelia's room, and smiled

knowingly to himself. He had heard Wesley approach the room, heard him

shuffle his feet, sigh, even breath, and had heard Wesley muttering to

himself.

"People always seem to forget I have super vamp hearing."

Cordelia looked up at him, and frowned, "Huh? What did I miss?"

Angel smiled wider, and raised his hand to stroke Cordy's hair, she

blushed slightly under his gaze.

"Nothing" he replied. "Nothing at all."

-----

end