Data Annex (Time Trip: Another Time)

PART ONE

The Present…

Angel made a sharp, left turn. The black Plymouth convertible defied gravity for one long, heart-stopping moment, hanging on to the road by just two wheels.

Fred, sitting in the backseat between Wes and Gunn, made a startled, squeaking sound.

"Um, Angel," Wesley said. He gave Fred’s arm a reassuring pat. "Could you, perhaps, slow down?"

"No," Angel answered. "According to Cordy’s vision, we don’t have much time."

"Which is true," Cordy agreed. She sat hunched in the passenger seat, ready to curl into a protective ball if it looked like they were about to hit something. "And, you know, I’m with ya on the people saving. But, if you hit a telephone pole, we’re *really* going to be late."

"Late, as in dearly departed," Gunn said. "Well, Maybe not *you*. But *we* don’t have an immortal card to play." When he saw that Wesley’s hand still rested on Fred’s left arm, he put his own hand on her right arm. And pretended not to see the ex-Watcher’s baleful glare. "Besides, Fred’s turning green."

The physicist gave him a grateful, if sickly, smile.

Angel didn’t comment. But Cordelia thought he maybe eased his foot off the gas. A little.

Since the scenery was flashing past way too fast for her to look at, Cordy concentrated on the vision she’d had. She hated it when the Powers didn’t give them much time. It led to speeding, and possible head-on collision.

And why had some teenager turned to the black arts to solve his bullying problem? Why couldn’t he talk to a teacher? Or his parents? Or, if he was really set on revenge, he could have put Ben Gay in his tormentors’ jock straps.

Anything was better than trying to call on the Dark Ones to help you punish a bunch of football players, only to accidentally conjure up a demon that wanted to plant it’s tiny, demon-baby larva under your skin.

"And *that’s* a picture I’ll never get out of my head," Cordy murmured.

As the car screeched to a sudden halt, everyone but Angel lurched forward.

"This is it," the vampire said as he opened the car door. He paused to give Cordelia a look. "Maybe you should stay here. Wes, Gunn and I can…"

"Uh huh," Cordy said as she opened the passenger door. As she got out, she heard Angel sigh. She noticed he did that a lot lately.

The team from Angel Investigations hurried up the walkway towards the simple, two story house. From the tension running through his body, Cordy knew what Angel wanted to do. Kick the door in and barrel inside. It was one of his favorite things.

But, since that wasn’t an option, he rang the bell. Four times in three seconds.

"Yeah," Gunn said. "They probably didn’t hear the first two."

Before Angel could comment, the door opened to reveal a young girl, about 8 years old, with shaggy blond hair. In one hand, she held a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.

Cordy frowned. Had no one told this little girl not to go around answering doors? At least, not until she knew who was on the other side.

"Who are you?" she asked. As she studied them with curious eyes, she took a huge bite of her sandwich.

Cordy took a cautious step forward and offered her most winning smile. "Um, hello. We’re here to see…your brother." Just a guess, but the odds were in her favor.

The little girl frowned. "Are you the friends Eddie’s always talking about? ‘Cause Eddie’s always talking about how he’s got all these friends. But I ain’t never seen no friends of his."

There was a stunned silence. Fred couldn’t have done better.

"Yeah," Angel finally said. "We’re Eddie’s friends. Can we come in?"

"Well, he’s in his room." She waved her sandwich towards the stairs. "And he told me not to bother him for nothing."

"But we’re his friends, right?" Fred asked. Nervously, she played with the left cuff of her sweatshirt. "And he won’t mind if some friends drop by, right?"

The little girl considered this for a second. Then, she shrugged. "You can come in, I guess."

Like a bronco let out of the gate, Angel pushed through the door and charged up the stairs.

Knowing how urgent the situation was, Cordy, Gunn and Wes were close behind.

Fred stayed with the little girl.

"You know," the physicist began, "you really shouldn’t invite strangers into your house. Especially not at night. Unless they’re us, of course."

Cordy made it to the top of the stairs just in time to see Angel kick open a door at the end of the hall.

And a strange light poured out of the room, flooded the hallway. Like wafts of illuminated smoke, floating on silver beams.

Cordelia was mesmerized by it. Unable to move, or even feel afraid. Just watch as the light rushed toward her. Fast…but in some kind of weird slow motion.

Then, she saw Angel fall.

She had only a second to feel alarmed before everything went dark.
____________________

The Past…

Someone slammed a locker door shut.

Startled by the metallic CLANG, Cordelia Chase jumped. She felt swamped by the noise.

Sneakers squeaked.

Heels click-clacked.

Doors opened and closed.

Books dropped.

Students whispered, talked, shouted, laughed.

The sounds rushed at her like a huge wave. Crashed over her so suddenly, she actually staggered a little.

Cordelia stepped away from her open locker and took a deep breath. Blinking owlishly, she looked up and down the busy hallway of Sunnydale High.

She had the weirdest feeling. Like she was supposed to be somewhere else, doing something else.

Cordelia frowned. The only place she had to be was history class in three minutes.

Shaking her head, she went back to her locker. She glanced at her reflection in the mirror that hung on the door. And was surrounded by pictures of Xander Harris.

Shoulder-length, mahogany hair perfect.

Make-up flawless.

Clothes neither wrinkled, stained nor linty.

With a satisfied smile, she grabbed her history book and closed the door.
____________________

The Sunnydale High School library wasn’t the hottest spot in town. For some reason, it had gotten a reputation for being creepy. So, as a rule, most students preferred to take care of their literary needs at the public library.

Which suited Buffy Summers just fine. She and her friends kind of viewed the library as a sort of clubhouse. No parents with prying eyes and ears. Few visitors to disturb their privacy. Right on the school campus, where they spent a large part of their day. It was the perfect Slayer HQ.

"So, Giles," Buffy said as she hopped up onto the counter. Once seated, she swung her legs from side to side. "Is there anything…Hellmouthy for me to worry about tonight?"

"I’m fairly certain there isn’t," the Watcher said as he started to organize the few books that had been returned that day. "All seems to be quiet. Nothing out of the ordinary."

"Yep, the man love’s words," Xander Harris said. Sitting on the library steps, he paged through a comic book. "Why say a simple ‘no’ when you can stretch it out to three whole sentences?"

The librarian gave the teen an annoyed look. "Thank you, Xander, for that critique."

"I like to help," Xander said. His eyes never strayed from The Adventures of Captain Future.

"I say we Bronze it tonight," Buffy said, determinedly cheerfully. "I’m in the mood for some mindless fun!"

"And Dingoes isn’t playing," Willow chimed in with an eager smile. "So Oz and I can dance." She donned a thoughtful frown. "Not that we’ve ever really…danced before. So we’ll sit. You know? Together?" She petered off into an uncertain silence.

Giles gave Buffy one of his patented Watcher-to-Slayer looks. "You will, of course, do a quick patrol at the very least."

"Of course," Buffy said. She’d mastered the art of getting patrol out of the way before a night of fun. "I get in my full quota of vamp slayage. Then, it’s a party!"

And she was *going* to have fun. She’d decided, while she was still in bed this morning, only half awake. She wouldn’t worry about the fact that she hadn’t seen Angel in over a week. She wasn’t going to hang on edge, nerves frayed like a rope stretched too tight, wondering if his absence meant he was planning something particularly nasty.

She was going to take this opportunity to forget that the man she loved wanted her dead, and be a typical teenager, just hanging out with her friends.

As she gave her head a decisive nod, Buffy’s eyes fell on Cordelia.

The girl sat in a chair a little removed from the rest of the group. She was staring with distant eyes at some point near the ceiling. A perplexed frown marred her brow. And, weirdest of all, she hadn’t said a word since they all filed into the library.

Xander must’ve noticed too. Even those his nose buried in a comic book.

"What’s with the quiet, Cor?" he asked. He shivered dramatically. "Kind of creepy."

Cordelia gave her boyfriend a Queen C glare. "Shut up, Xander," she said…but without the usual bite. Almost like an afterthought.

"Hey, I’m just saying."

"Well, don’t. Read. Or do whatever passes for reading in your tiny little micd."

Xander shrugged the insult off. He was used to them by now.

Buffy shook. She was never going to get those two.

"You’ll call me if anything comes up?" Giles asked as he straightened his glasses.

"Yeah, sure," Buffy said. She hopped off of the counter. "And I’ll have my cell. So, vicey-vercy."

Giles raised an eyebrow at her phrase-butchery, but made no comment.
____________________

The woman had chin-length, brown hair. A tall, lithe body. And, although he couldn’t see her face clearly, he could *feel* her smile. It filled him with warmth. Made him feel alive. Human.

Images flashed through his mind.

The two of them, arguing. She gave him a look that made him crumble. And, at that moment, he knew the kind of power she had over him.

The two of them, both with swords. Moving as one. And he felt so connected to her at the moment.

The two of them, barely speaking. She was mad at him, and he was miserable. And he knew, at that moment, that she was in control…

The two of them, holding on to each other. And, at that moment, he knew that he’d been away too long. He would never leave her again, because she was a part of him…

Angelus woke abruptly. He bolted upright in the large, four-poster bed.

He tried to hold on to the dream. But images were like clouds of smoke. The more he tried to capture them, the faster they dissipated.

But, while the images vanished like they had never been, the feelings remained.

He felt that hunger. The hunger of wanting something you couldn’t have.

And the warmth of something precious and familiar.

Angelus growled low in his throat. Because both feelings made him uneasy.

Angelus shook his head, and tried to shake off the feeling. Probably just an afterimage, left behind by his soul’s departure. He still felt its influence sometimes. Like an infection. For example, he could sense his soul’s more tender feelings for the Slayer with crystal clarity. Which was one of the reasons he wanted to hurt her so badly.

Angelus got out of bed. Dressing in his favorite leather pants, and a maroon, silk shirt, he left the master bedroom.

Spike and Dru were in the great room. It looked particularly gothic tonight, filled with hundreds of black and blood red candles.

There was Spike, sitting near the French doors. In a wheelchair because of the Slayer. Mesmerized as he watched…

Drucilla.

Angelus’s childe danced in front of the dead fireplace. Swayed to music only she could hear.

Angelus watched her with pride. When he first encountered Drucilla, she was the embodiment of purity and innocence. Obedient daughter. Loving sister. Always reaching out to those in need, friend or stranger. So afraid her gift meant she was evil.

He had turned her into what she was. A true childe of evil. Her purity corrupted. Her goodness turned to cruelty. Her innocence forever preserved by her insanity.

Angelus grinned. Ah, the pure artistry of it. It was just…beautiful.

It was too bad he didn’t have time to do that kind of thing more often. But, with Buffy…

"Buffy," he muttered. He smirked even as the now familiar, cold hatred filled his dead heart.

Hearing him, Drucilla spun around. Her eyes lit up with love and wonder. In an instant, she was there in front of him, still swaying.

"Dance with me, my Angel," she said in her soft, childish voice.

"Not right now, Dru," he said. "Why don’t you ask Spike? I’m sure he’d be happy to…" He paused, casting a contemptuous glance at the younger vampire’s wheelchair. "No, I guess he really can’t, can he?"

Spike glowered. "Stuff it, Angelus," he said rather casually.

Angelus grinned. His grandchilde was so delightfully easy to piss off.

Still swaying, Drucilla pouted prettily. "You don’t like my party?"

"It’s not that, Dru," he assured her. "I just have places to be." He walked to the mantle. Ran his hand through the flame of one of the candles that rested there. "It’s been too long since I’ve done something…special for Buffy. She *is* the most important woman in my life…at the moment. Don’t want her to feel neglected." He shook his head. "But it’s just so hard finding new ways to top myself."

"But you will," Drucilla said. The brunette vampiress followed him, like a wraith carried on the wind. "You always do."

The elder vampire graced his childe with an indulgent smile. "Thanks, Dru. Knowing how much you believe in me always gets me"—he tapped a spot over his unbeating heart—"right here."

Rolling his eyes, Spike steered his wheelchair towards the pair. "I have a suggestion. Kill the Slayer, already. That would be special. Slash her throat. Rip out her heart. Break every bone in her body. Lots of ways for her to die."

"Spike, Spike," Angelus sighed. He shook his head woefully. "You want me to kill my favorite audience? What would be the fun in that?"

"Oh, I don’t know." He pretended to consider it for a moment. "Your annoying blond would be *dead*!" He shifted in his chair. "No more super chick to muck up the works."

Angelus nodded. "I hear what you’re saying." He donned and expression of sincere concern. "I feel where you’re coming from. And don’t fret. I plan to kill the Slayer." He let his smirk shine through. "Just want to give her a good mind fuck, first."

Drucilla kneeled beside Spike’s chair. With her hands clasped, she almost looked like a child praying at bedtime.

"My Angel wants to play," she explained to her childe. In earnest, like she really wanted him to understand. "He wants to make the Slayer bleed inside."

Angel snapped his fingers, suddenly inspired. "And what better way than by turning one of her friends?" As the new idea blossomed, he nodded in satisfaction. "Oh, yeah."

Spike sighed. He would never understand the games Angelus liked to play. The way he seemed to prize the art of torture and torment mort than…more than blood!

It wasn’t natural.

"But who?" Angelus mused out loud. "Willow, or Xander? Willow? Or Xander?"
____________________

A new song started. The suddenness of it made Cordelia jump.

Startled, she glanced around the Bronze. It looked the same as always. The same décor. The same people. The same music.

So why did it feel so wrong?

She shook her head. What was the matter with her? She’d had this…preoccupied feeling since that afternoon. Which wouldn’t have been so bad if she was actually thinking of something. Like the new spring collection.

But she worrying about *something*…and didn’t have a clue what it was.

It was just weird! And she had enough weird in her life, thank you very much.

Frowning, she glanced around the table. Everyone else was having a good time.

Xander munched on the free snacks, mouth never empty for long.

Willow and Oz talked softly, as if no one else in the room existed.

Buffy was trying really hard to have fun. No doubt to forget her ex was a psycho killer. And, while it might have been just an act earlier, she seemed to really be enjoying herself now.

"I’m starting to think this place could use a make-over," Xander said. He cast a critical eye around the Bronze. "I’m thinkin’ brighter colors. Lower tables. Plenty of plush places to sit."

"Forget it, Xand," Buffy said. "The only thing that could change this place is an act of nature."

"Or super nature," Willow chimed in. "And, since this is Sunnydale and all, you never know."

"I kind of like it as is," Oz said. Slouched down in his seat, he reached for Willow’s hand. "It’s comfortable."

"Like an old robe," Xander said. He nodded in agreement. "It’s holey and frayed. It’s been washed *way* too many times. And the smell is even starting to make *me* sick."

Everyone at the table turned to stare at him.

Xander looked uncomfortable for about five seconds. But he soon regrouped. "Yeah, like *you* don’t have one!"

"Let’s dance," Cordelia suddenly said.

"What?" Her boyfriend gave her a startled look. "But you said you never wanted to be seen in public dancing with me to a fast song." He waved vaguely at the air. "This is a fast song."

"I don’t care." Before he could argue, she grabbed his arm, and pulled him out of his chair. Maybe moving would make her feel more connected. ‘Cause this *disconnected* feeling was creeping her.
____________________

Keeping to the shadows, Angelus looked towards the Slayer’s table.

He glanced at the blond. And the cold hatred mix with anticipation.

There she was. The first woman he had ever loved.

He could never make her pay enough for that.

Arms folded, he leaned against the wall. A little like a bidder at an auction, he ran speculative eyes over the redhead. Memories of having his hands wrapped around her throat still made a little thrill pass through him. That was fun.

Little Willow. So innocent. So inexperienced.

The things he planned to do to her would crush her spirit nicely.

And, more importantly, she was one of the Slayer’s best friends. Imagine the guilt Buffy would feel. For one, she’d be responsible for whatever he did to Willow’s delicate little body. For another, when Willow tried to kill her—and he’d make sure she did—Buffy would have to kill one of her closest friends.

"Hmmm," he murmured. "I like it."

The perky blond who was just walking by turned to look at him. "Did you say something?" she asked with a friendly smile.

Angelus tried his best to look embarrassed. "Uh, no," he said. "Just talking to myself."

"I do that sometimes, too," the lovely young lady said. A speculative look in her eyes, she stepped closer. "Are you here alone?"

"W-well," Angelus said with a bashful grin. He turned on the awkward charm. "I’m meeting a friend later. Just to say hi. After that, I’m free."

"Good," she said. "I’ll see you around." With a smile that was pure invitation, she turned and sauntered away.

Angelus shook his head. He loved the hunt as much as the next vamp. But there was something about prey that offered itself up on a silver platter…

Speaking of hunts, where was the Slayer’s other bestest bud? That annoying boy he’d barely managed not to kill even with a soul?

Angelus’s eyes moved towards the dance floor…and he froze.

Xander Harris was there, jerking about as if he was having some kind of spasm.

Angelus barely noticed. His eyes were glued to…

Cordelia Chase.

In contrast to that fool Xander, the lithe brunette moved fluidly. Sensuously. Her body flowed with the music. Her arms. Her legs. Her hips.

Angelus watched, mesmerized. His eyes roamed. Down her back. To her slim waist. Up to her slender neck.

A feeling of familiarity rushed through him. Almost like in the dream. He felt his face flicker, the demon almost breaking free. And the ever-present hunger roared to life, like a fire.

Angelus frowned.

Cordelia Chase.

So far, she had escaped the torments he’d visited on the rest of Buffy’s friends. The game was to hurt the Slayer by hurting those she loved. And she and the brunette weren’t that close.

True, Buffy would feel bad if, say, Cordelia’s corpse washed up on the beach. But she wouldn’t grieve as she would for Willow, or Xander, or Giles. She just didn’t like Queen C that much.

Logic told Angelus he should still target Willow or Xander. Turning one of them would hurt Buffy the most.

But, as he watched Cordelia dance. As his body stirred. As he imagined how her blood would taste. As the craving made him lick his lips in anticipation…

He knew who his next victim had to be.

PART TWO

The Past…

Cordelia ran the brush through her long, brunette hair.

Even *that* didn’t seem right. The hair felt funny as it brushed against the back of her neck. And the weight of it seemed to want to pull her head down.

Sighing, she laid the hairbrush down next to the sink. This was ridiculous. Her hair had never been shorter than shoulder-length. She was vain about a lot of things. But her long, lustrous hair was the biggest of the big. It was like…her crown. The thought that she would ever cut it was beyond nuts.

But, when she’d first looked in the mirror, for just a second, she saw a shorter style. Hair that reached her chin. And, even weirder, *that* was the image of herself that seemed right. Much more right than the image that stared back at her from the mirror.

Cordelia studied her reflection for a long second. If this was some weird kind of identity crisis, she wasn’t liking it.

Finally, with a shake of her head, she left her private bathroom.
____________________

Angelus peered through the opening in Cordelia Chase’s designer curtains. He had to say, he was impressed. The room was as classy as the girl herself. Tasteful. Understated. Solid oak furniture. Silk sheets. Not a single poster of a teen idle on the wall.

Just than, Cordelia Chase exited the bathroom.

Angelus studied her with narrowed, black eyes. She wore a silk pajama top, pale blue, that reached mid-thigh. He let his gaze linger over her long, tanned legs. Up her long, curvaceous body.

And he was assailed by a sense of familiarity.

Angelus frowned. It wasn’t unusual. He’d been alive—sort of—for almost three centuries. He often encountered people who reminded him of someone he’d known in the past.

A tavern wench who was always up for a tumble.

Or the man who sold him his favorite horse.

Or his father. That had happened more than once. When he was souled, such instances always lead to dark, painful thoughts. But, without his soul…

Well, there was that man in Rome. The one who watched him charm a young prostitute. Who looked at him with the same contempt and disapproval as young Liam’s father had a century before.

The man whose face Angelus had removed. It took hours because the vampire stopped whenever the man passed out…which was often. By the time he’d finished, the man so like his father was a raving lunatic. Almost as bad as Dru. But not quite as entertaining.

But this was different. He’d known Cordelia, in a way, for over a year. If it was just a matter of her reminding him of someone from his past, he would have sensed it before now. So, that wasn’t the explanation.

But, the longer he watched her, the more familiar she seemed. He felt like…he knew her. Not on a conscious level, perhaps. But a deeper, emotional one.

Which made no since. Beyond a few brief conversations—when he was usually busy trying to ignore her unsubtle advances—they barely spoke.

But that perplexing sense of familiarity persisted.

Not only that, but he couldn’t get one ridiculous thought out of his head. That her hair should be shorter…

Cordelia sat on the side of the bed. Picked up a bottle that, from the look of it, no doubt contained something ridiculously expensive. She poured its contents into her hands.

She began to apply the lotion to her legs.

Angelus watched with hungry eyes as she applied lotion to her legs in long, even strokes. Her hand smoothed up her calves. Her thighs. Pushed the night shirt up until he could see the edge of her panties, silk and lace.

A growl rumbled in his chest, almost like a purr. As his demon visage flickered into place, he ran his tongue over his sharp, jagged teeth. He imagined that her hands were his. Not gentle, but tight and punishing. Leaving fingerprint-bruises wherever he touched.

He imagined gripping her knee as he sunk his fangs deep into the flesh of her inner thigh…

Suddenly, Cordelia clutched her head. Crying out, she fell to the bedroom floor.

Angelus frowned, his fantasy put on hold put on hold for the moment.

What was this?
____________________

Pain, like nothing she’d ever felt before, crashed through Cordelia’s head.

It felt like someone had dug their fingers into her forehead and pulled her skull apart. Then shoved hot coals inside. While a friend went at the back of her head with a sledgehammer.

But, as hard as it was to believe, the pain wasn’t as bad as what she *saw*.

Two kids, about twelve years old. Feeling all rebellious because they snuck out of their houses to smoke in the park.

And something had found them. Something strong enough to rip off an arm or a leg. To shove a fist into a chest and crush a young, frightened heart.

She felt it all. The fear. The pain. The screams scratched across her mind, like a thousand nails across a chalkboard.

As the…whatever it was, released her, Cordelia went limp. For a second, she just lay there, gasping for air. Fingers pressed to her temples because the pain lingered. And her shocked mind tried to grasp what just happened.

That’s when her bedroom door opened.

"Cordelia?" Her mother’s voice. "What’s going on in here?"

Cordelia’s eyes popped open. She sat up, ignoring the twinge of pain that shot down her neck.

"We heard screams," her father said with a frown. He looked worried. And annoyed.

She’d probably interrupted a late business call.

"Mom. Daddy," she said as she stood up. "I…I’m fine. I just…tripped. Hit my elbow. You know how much *that* hurts."

She didn’t know why she lied. Something just told her not to try to explain what had happened.

Besides, what was she supposed to say?

"You tripped?" her father asked. Like he’d never heard of such a thing. His eyes searched for what she had tripped *on*.

"Well, try to be more careful, honey," her mother said.

They didn’t linger. They never did. She could have been bleeding from the nose and mouth. But, as long as she said she was fine…

"Oh, God," she whispered as she remembered. She wished she could believe it was her imagination. A waking nightmare. That she was going nuts and had just had a hallucination.

But she knew. Somehow, she knew what she saw was real.

Staggering to the nightstand on legs that trembled and shook, she picked up the ‘phone.
____________________

Angelus watched Cordelia dial the telephone. What had just happened? What had he just seen?

Actually, she’d looked like an epileptic he’d once met late in the 18th century. The people in her village, even her uncle, decided her "fits" were a sign that she was possessed by the devil. And, in an act of unparalleled bravery, two dozen grown men chased the lone, frail girl into the woods, fully intending to beat the devil out of her.

Angelus saved her. Her knight in shining armor.

She would have been better off in the hands of the villagers.

"Buffy?"

Hearing the name, Angelus snapped out of his reverie.

"You know that park over on DePalmer?" Cordelia continued. "Yeah? Well, I need you to go there. Now!

"Why? Because a big, scaly demon with gray skin and serious varicose veins is about to snack on a couple of pre-teens.

"How do I know? Listen, we don’t have time for twenty questions! Just get there now. You don’t have much time.

"It doesn’t *matter*. Just go! *You’re* the damned Slayer. Go slay!" And she slammed the ‘phone down.

Angelus arched one eyebrow.

"Well," he muttered. "This is…interesting."
____________________

As Angelus entered the mansion, he heard Drucilla moaning.

He walked into the great room, and found his childe lying in front of the fireplace. Hands clutching her head. Writhing and moaning on the floor.

"What’s going on here?" Angelus asked.

Spike wheeled his chair closer to Dru. "Don’t know," he said in clipped tones. He took a moment to glare at Angelus, as if this were somehow the elder vampire’s fault. Then, he turned worried eyes on his sire. "She’s been like this for the last twenty minutes."

Angelus frowned. His mind leaped to what he had seen twenty minutes ago.

Carefully, he approached Dru. He knelt down beside her, reached towards her. Paused. Let his fingers hover above her face.

"Drucilla," he said, his voice gentle. "What do you see?"

"Knives," the demented seer moaned. Half in pain. Half in pleasure. "*Ripping* through my brain. Stabbing. Stabbing." A beatific smile spread across her face.

Angelus smiled with her. Fascinated, as always, by the workings of her mind. Her gift.

"She felt it all," Drucilla continued. "All that delicious fear. And terror." She giggled. "Pain so rich I could drink it."

"Another seer?" Angelus prompted. "Someone with the sight?"

"So much power," the vampiress said on a happy sigh. "Flashes. Horrible, brilliant flashes. And the screams. Like music."

Drucilla turned away from him. She moaned, and whimpered, and giggled. Reliving the details of her vision.

Angelus smiled, amused. It seemed Drucilla had had a vision of Cordelia having a vision. Talk about irony.

"What’s going on?" Spike demanded.

"Nothing for you to worry about, Spike." Angelus stood up. "Just a vision."

"Of a seer?" Spike said. "Someone else for you to torture?

Angelus smirked. On some level, Spike resented Angelus for what he’d done to Dru so long ago. True, the younger vampire might have done the same…if he’d had the talent for it. And he loved Dru as she was, insanity and all.

What he resented was that it was *Angelus* who tortured her. *Angelus* who drove her over the edge of madness. *Angelus* who had her eternal devotion.

"You should probably get ready, Spike," the elder said. He waved towards the vampiress. "Dru will be needing your…services in a few minutes. I mean, *I’d* oblige her. But I have some thinking to do." Grinning, he glanced at Spike’s wheelchair. "And she probably won’t even mind doing all the work."

His grandchilde’s murderous glare boring holes in his back, Angelus left the room.

In the master bedroom, he lay down on the massive, four-poster bed.

Cordelia Chase. A seer. And a powerful one.

And, he couldn’t deny it. Seeing her writhe around on the floor, crying out, clutching at her head, had aroused him as much as watching her on the dance floor had. More.

He wondered. Could she see what he was going to do to her? Could she feel it? Could she sense the terror and pain of it?

He didn’t know how he felt about that. On the one hand, he loved surprises. Catching his victims unawares. Becoming the nightmare they never thought would come true.

But the anticipation, the fear and dread. It would make her as succulent, as sweet, as a newly ripened peach.

Sighing, Angelus closed his eyes. It had been too long since he’d tasted the blood of a true seer.
____________________

"…and I saw the demon pull the other kid’s heart out, and take this huge bite. And, let me just say, ewwwww! Then, I woke up or whatever."

A heavy silence fell over the library.

Imagining what Cordelia had just described, in vivid detail, Buffy shivered. She’d thought *looking* at the demon was bad. It had definitely been one of the more ugly variety. But at least she’d gotten to the park before the feeding frenzy began.

She shivered again. Now, she knew what would have happened to those kids if Cordelia hadn’t called.

"This is…extraordinary," Giles said for the hundredth. "Amazing."

"No," Cordelia said with a bitter frown. "It means that, after a year of hanging with freaks, I’ve finally *become* one."

It was a familiar, Queen C insult. The Scoobies barely heard it.

"There have been accounts of people having a single, precognitive episode," Giles said. "Usually when loved-ones are concerned. This could possibly be a one time event, Cordelia."

"I hope so," Cordelia said. "If I *want* to feel like someone’s shoving an ice pick through my skull, I’ll listen to a Backstreet Boyz CD."

"Or," Giles continued. "It could be that some latent, psychic ability you never knew you had has been activated."

Cordelia glared at the Watcher. "Great."

"It sounds cool!" Willow enthused. "Being able to see into the future."

"No." And a haunted look shadowed hazel eyes usually filled with confidence. "I felt those kids *die* in a really painful way. That so *wasn’t* cool."

Abashed, the red head looked down.

Oz, always in tune with her moods, laid a reassuring hand on her shoulder. And Willow gave him a grateful smile.

Xander raised his hand. "Ummmm, does this mean Cordelia can read our minds?" His eyes widened. "Or see stuff I’m doing even if we’re in two different places!"

"Oh, please!" Cordelia rolled her eyes. "Like I want to see you dance around your bedroom in your underwear."

Xander gasped in horror. "You *saw* that!"

A stunned silence filled the room.

"I was *kidding*, Xander."

The teen squirmed in his seat. "I knew that!" he forced a laugh. "You don’t think I knew that? I was just making a joke. Big joker. Yep. That’s me."

"Yes, quite." Giles cleared his throat. "Seers are very rare. Especially those with visions as vivid and detailed as Cordelia’s seems to have been. The fact that she was not only able to pinpoint a location but an approximate time is extraordinary!"

"Giles," Buffy said with an amused smile. "Do you want me to tell you how many times you’ve used that word?"

"Hmmmm." He gave her a blank look. Then, as the light dawn, he became slightly embarrassed. "Yes. Sorry. It’s just that, this is quite…"

"Extraordinary," the room chorused.

Giles gave them a look. "Yes." He took off his glasses and began to clean them. "I’d like to do some research on the subject. Perhaps I’ll find something that’ll explain what’s happened. And, Cordelia, I want to know as soon as you have another vision.

"Whatever," the girl sighed. The thought of having another vision wasn’t a happy.

Buffy could sympathize. Cordelia had spent her entire life not caring about the feelings of others. But, thanks to her visions, she got to experience the feelings of others first hand.

At the most horrifying moment of their lives.

Not fun.

Buffy kind of knew what this "seeing the future" business was all about. Her prophetic dreams always freaked her out. But they were more symbolic than anything else. How else could you explain Willow having coffee with a monkey at the Bronze?

To actually see something so terrible. As if it was actually happening right in front of you. To have a vision…

"Oh, my God," Buffy gasped. Her eyes widened with sudden realization.

"Buffy?" Giles gave her a worried look. "What is it?"

"Angel."

"Psycho stalker boy?" Xander asked. His expression turned sour. "What about him?"

Buffy hesitated. Her eyes flickered towards Cordelia, then away. "Angel told me about Drucilla. All the things he did to drive her crazy. He said he became so obsessed with her because…she had visions."

For a second, the silence was thick enough to cut. Then…

"Oh no," Willow gasped.

"Not good," Oz muttered.

"Oh dear," Giles said. He polished his glasses a little harder.

"Shit," Xander whispered. And he moved his chair a little closer to Cordelia’s.

Cordelia didn’t say anything. Just turned several shades of pale.

"We’ll just have to make sure he d-doesn’t find out," Giles finally said. "There’s no reason he should. After all, none of you have seen him in over a week. And, as long as no-one discusses Cordelia’s new abilities in public…"

Buffy nodded. It made since. It made perfect since. There was really no way for Angel to know unless he overheard them talking about it in a public place. Which they weren’t going to do.

Fortunately, Angel—with and *without* his soul—had never paid that much attention to Cordelia. So this vision thing should be an easy secret to keep.
____________________

The doorbell rang at 6:45.

Marta sighed. Her cab would be here in half an hour. She had little time to pack a bag for the three days she planned to spend with her sister in LA. The last thing she needed was an interruption.

For a moment, she considered not answering. After all, the visitor was most likely there to see one of the Chase’s, none of whom were at home anyway. So, why bother?

Because, officially, her time off didn’t begin until 7:00. So…

Marta sighed. So, she’d answer the door.

The housekeeper hurried into the foyer and opened the door. And her mouth dropped opened.

That’s what happened when one found a gorgeous man on their doorstep.

"Um, yes," the housekeeper said. She tried not to stare at his leather pants. "May I help you?"

"Yeah." His smile was breathtaking. "I’m here to pick up Cordelia. We have a date."

Marta frowned. Cordelia had a date? With this young man? But wasn’t she dating that Xander boy?

Then again, Xander Harris had never really seemed like Cordelia’s type.

But this man certainly *was*. Handsome. Self-assured. From a wealthy family, no doubt.

Perhaps a little too old for a 17 year-old girl. But Cordelia had been dating college boys since she was 15. Marta didn’t approve. But, her parents didn’t object, so…

"I’m afraid Cordelia isn’t home right now," the housekeeper said.

The man frowned. "What? But she told me to pick her up at 6:30." He gave her an embarrassed grin. "Actually, I thought she was going to give me a hard time for being late."

Marta smiled in return, more in sympathy than anything else. This wouldn’t be the first time Cordelia hadn’t been home to meet a date. "Well. I’m sure she’ll be home any minute."

Marta hesitated. Her cab was due at 7:15. She still had to pack.

But leaving the young man outside to wait didn’t seem right.

"If you’d like, you can come in and wait for her," she offered. "But I have to tell you I have a cab coming to take me to the airport. If it gets here before Cordelia does, you’ll have to wait for her outside."

"Not a problem, ma’am," he said.

Marta smiled. Manners were so rare in young people these days. Unless you were at the grocery store.

Deciding she might like Cordelia’s new boyfriend, Marta waved him across the threshold.
____________________

Angelus pressed redial. Holding the ‘phone to his ear, he whistled a jaunty tune.

"Yeah, hi. I’d like to cancel a cab…The Chase residence…459 Bernson…Yeah, we had kind of a family emergency…Thank you…You have a nice night, too."

Hanging up, Angelus wiped a red smear from the corner of his mouth. Bending down, he slung the corpse Chase’s live-in maid over his shoulder. Then, taking a look around to make sure everything was in place, he left through the back door.
____________________

Cordelia stared at her reflection in the bathroom mirror.

"Well, here I am again," she muttered. And a lot had changed in the last 24 hours. One minute, she was an average…well, *above* average—high school student. The next, she was just another freak in the Freak Patrol.

Slayer. Werewolf. Computer Geek. Mr. Tweed. Seer.

Her worst nightmare had come true. The weirdness wasn’t something outside her anymore. Something she could look at, occasionally ridicule, ignore when something else came up, or walk away from if she chose too. If the vision wasn’t a one-time thing, the weirdness was inside her. A part of her. There was no walking away.

So, why wasn’t she more freaked out?

Cordelia frowned. Because the vision—with the pain, and the icky images, and the horrible emotions, and those kids being saved from a horrible death—felt…*right*. More right than anything else had since yesterday afternoon. As right as the shadow image of herself, with shorter hair.

Cutting off the light, she left the bathroom.

Cordy walked into her bedroom…and came to an abrupt stop. Something wasn’t right.

She’d turned the bedside lamp on before she went in to take a shower. She always did. It was like a habit.

But, now, the room was dark. The only illumination the moonlight flooding, like liquid silver, through the open window.

The window she’d closed because it was a little chilly outside.

As the wrongness of this picture sank in, Cordy’s heart did a dull thud in her chest. In Sunnydale, wrongness equaled bad.

Instinctively, she took a step back…

…And collided with a solid form.

She barely got out a startled shriek before a powerful arm wrapped around her chest. The other wrapped tight around her waist.

"Hey, Cordelia," a familiar voice said. "How ya doin’?"

With a whimper, Cordy squeezed her eyes shut. Horror creeped through her veins like ice water. "Angel," she whispered.

"Ah, what’s in a name?" the vampire asked. "A rose by any other name has thorns. Or something like that."

Cordelia cringed as he rested his cheek against her head. She heard him breathe deep. "What’s that? Vanilla?"

Cordelia stood completely still, unable to move. Her body was frozen. Her throat was locked.

"I like it," he continued, as if she had answered. "I like the whole thing." He rested his lips against her ear. "We’ve known each other for over a year now. But it’s like we’re still strangers." She felt him shake his head. "Well, I think it’s time we got to know each other better."

****

PART THREE

The Past…

Cordelia couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe.

Angel held her tight. So tight. The power in the arms wrapped around her chest and waist made her bones ache. If he held her any tighter, she would shatter.

She shivered. His body, pressed so hard against her back, was so cold. Colder than the chilled breeze that fluttered through the open window.

She was too scared to wonder why the cold embrace felt vaguely familiar.

"I almost can’t bare to think about it." Angel shook his head. "How I’ve underestimated you. Neglected you. If I’d just been paying more attention, I would have realized how…interesting you are way before now." Lowering his voice, he whispered in her ear. "I know all kinds of ways we can make up for lost time."

The hint of menace in his voice, the dark promise, snapped her out of her paralysis. She started to struggle. Her lungs filled with air. She opened her mouth to scream.

Abruptly, she was released. The vampire spun her around until she faced him. One hand wrapped around the back of her neck. With the other hand, he pressed a finger to her lips.

It all happened in an instant. Cordelia, was so startled, the scream froze in her throat.

"Do you really want to do that?" Angel asked, sounding truly curious. "Scream? I mean, you parents are bound to want to know why their daughter is screaming the house down. Like they did last night. And I *hate* interruptions." Hand still pressed to her lips, he rested his forehead against hers. "Do you really want to see what I’d do to them if they came in here now?"

Cordelia swallowed. The scream was still there, begging for release. Clawing at the back of her throat. She had to grit her teeth to keep it from escaping.

Because she realized he was right. Her parents couldn’t help her. If she screamed, if they came to see why, they would die. He’d make her watch…because he always had more fun when there was someone to watch. Or so the stuff she’d read said.

Her parents would die. And it would be her fault.

For the first time in a long time, she wished her parents weren’t at home. That her father was away on another business trip. That her mother had taken off on another one of her frequent, spur of the moment vacations.

At least he couldn’t hurt Marta. The housekeeper couldn’t have picked a better time to go visit her sister.

"Just promise me you’ll be a good girl." She saw him smirk in the dim glow of the moonlight. "And I’ll leave Mommy and Daddy alone."

Cordelia started to tremble. Her breaths came in short, jerky gasps. Frantically, her mind ran through all of her options. Only to find she didn’t have any.

She was almost surprised to hear herself speak.

"I won’t scream," she said against the finger still pressed to her lips. Her voice dry and raspy.

Angel seemed to give it some consideration. Then, abruptly, he let her go.

Unprepared for her sudden release, Cordelia staggered away from him. Her body, realizing she was free, strained towards the door. Her fight or flight instinct kicked in and, knowing she couldn’t fight him, all she wanted to do was run.

But she also knew she wouldn’t get far.

Angel watched her, waited to see what she would do. In the dark, in the moonlight, he was just a shadow in a room full of shadows. But, with his vampire senses, she knew he could see her far better than she could see him.

"Wait," she gasped, suddenly realizing what he’d said. Her eyes grew wide. "Last night?" she whispered. "You were here last…"

"Oh, yeah," he said, almost casually. He nodded towards the window. "Right out there. And, let me say, you put on quite a show."

Her heart clenching into a fist, Cordelia stopped breathing.

"A seer," Angel said, taking a step forward. "I’ve got a thing for seers."

Cordelia backed away from him. Stopping when the backs of her legs bumped up against the bed.

Angel continued his advance.

"Don’t," Cordelia gasped. And hated the plea she heard in her voice.

"Don’t what?" Angel said, stopping inches from her. "Kill you?" With a gentle hand, he pushed her hair behind her left shoulder. Cold fingers brushed against the side of her neck. "Don’t worry, Cordelia. You won’t be gone long."

He struck with the speed of a snake. Grabbing her shoulders,he shoved her backwards.

Cordelia fell back with a yelp. She hit the bed so hard the wind was knocked out of her lungs.

Before she could even begin to catch her breath, he was on top of her. His body crushed hers into the mattress.

((Oh God!)) chanted a voice in her head. Because she couldn’t think anything else. ((Oh, God! Oh, God!))

She started to struggle, hands pushing futiley against his powerful chest. But her efforts had no effect. In fact, they were so weak in the face of his superior strength, he didn’t even bother to try to subdue her.

Angel hovered above her. Hungry eyes traveled across her face. Over her body.

"Where to start, hmmm? Here?" His fingers brushed against her breast. "Or here?" His hand traveled down her rib cage, down her hip, settled on her upper thigh. "Or maybe we’ll start with a classic."

Cordelia whimpered as he grabbed a handful of her hair, wrenched her head to the side. The feral visage of the demon flickering over his handsome features, he buried his fangs in her throat.

Cordelia gasped, body tensing against the shock of the pain. Then…

Images filled her mind.

Angel smiling. But not the cold, malicious smirk. A smile filled with warmth and humor.

Angel fighting a demon.

Angel reading a book. Her sitting beside him, with her head on his shoulder.

Angel, begging her to do what he told her for once.

Angel, holding her pain wracked body in his arms. He looked so worried. Even a little scared.

They were all there, one after another. Hundreds and hundreds of images. Filled with sight and sound and color. Laughter and caring.

Hundreds of beautiful images followed her into the darkness.
____________________

Angelus ripped his fangs away from Cordelia Chase’s throat. Realizing, somewhere in the back of his mind, that he’d taken more blood more quickly than he’d intended. He hadn’t wanted to turn her right away. He’d wanted to play.

But the images…

Angelus pushed himself off of her uncounscious body. Standing, he stumbled away from the bed.

Putting his hands to his head, the vampire tried to shake away the images that filled his mind. They were like memories.

Memories of things he knew had happened. Filling him with feelings he hadn’t experienced since his soul was ripped away.

There were hundreds of images, flitting through his mind so fast, he couldn’t catch them. But he knew they all had one thing in common.

Angelus growled. He had to get away. From the images. The feelings they caused. The girl…

With one final glare towards the bed, Angelus climbed through the window and jumped to the ground below.
____________________

Cordelia sat hunched in the middle of her bed. A stake in one hand. A large, wooden cross in the other.

Her room was ablaze. Every light, every lamp on. And her eyes flittered from the now locked window, to her bedroom door.

She had been unconscious for a long time. Hours. When she woke, she felt nauseous and woozy. The blood on her skin dry and crusted.

Even now, the wound on the side of her neck burned like a brand.

And she couldn’t stop shaking.

She knew she should do something. Call someone. Go somewhere.

But she was frozen, afraid to move. So she sat in her bed, clutched her cross and stake. Wondered why she was still alive. And waited for dawn to come.

And the images kept coming. Of an Angel unlike the one she’d known before he lost his soul. Certainly different from the evil vampire who had taken so much joy from the thought of killing her.

Every image filled her with warmth, and happiness. Felt safe and familiar. And broke her heart.

Cordelia felt her eyes fill with tears. They were images of an Angel who didn’t exist.

And she missed him. So much.
____________________

Rupert Giles opened the doors of the Sunnydale High School library. Early, as usual. When there was pressing Slayer business to attend to, Buffy and her friends would arrive an hour or so before school began, to talk and strategize. It had happened so often, coming in early had become a habit for the Watcher.

Carrying the new texts that had been delivered to his apartment yesterday, Giles started towards his office.

When he heard the doors open, the librarian turned around.

At first, he didn’t recognize the young woman standing there. Then…

Giles gasped with disbelief as he realized who it was. He’d never seen Cordelia Chase this way before. She wore jeans and a wrinkled sweatshirt. Her hair pulled back in a messy ponytail. Her face bare of make-up.

And she looked ill. Drained.

Pale.

Putting his books aside, he started towards her. "Cordelia?" Giles began.

It was like hearing her name broke something loose inside her. Because, much to the Watcher’s horror, the usually strong, usually confident young woman started to cry.
____________________

"Angel gets his soul back?" Buffy gasped.

Her disbelief flew through the library. Like a tangible, living thing.

"Yes, he does," Cordelia said with certainty. She sat slumped in a chair, and barely seemed able to hold her head up. "I don’t know when. But he does."

Buffy’s heart started to pound with…hope. It was what she had been dreaming of. Praying for. Ever since that night…

But, with every evil, vicious, monstrous thing he did, the possibility had seemed further away. In fact, she’d begun to wonder if it was even what she wanted. Because, after he killed Miss Calender, the hate in her heart had slowly started to overshadow the love. She had finally reached a point where she not only *could* but *wanted* to kill him.

But this? These visions Cordelia had had? They changed everything.

"No!" Xander exclaimed. Standing behind Cordelia’s, he glared at Buffy. "No! And *hell* no!"

"Xander," Willow began in a soft, warning voice.

"What?" Buffy said, glaring back at Xander. What was his problem?

"I can see it!" the teen exclaimed, voice harsh and angry. "You’re eyes lighting up at the thought that you might get your honey back. Who gives a *fuck* that he tried to *kill* my girlfriend?"

Abashed, Buffy lowered her eyes, looking down at the floor. She’d been upset about what happened to Cordelia too. She had. Seeing the bandage on Cordelia’s throat…

Well, if her ex had been there at the moment, Buffy knew she would have had no trouble killing him.

And the fact that he’d been stalking Cordelia, and had seen her have the vision was also cause for alarm.

But when the other girl told them about Angel’s soul…

"Xander, think about it," Willow said, giving him an imploring look. She took Oz’s hand, almost like she needed the contact to give her courage. "If Angel got his soul back, he’d stop doing all of these horrible things. And he’d stop trying to hurt Buffy. And us."

"And what? We welcome him back with open arms? ‘Hey, buddy. So you were an evil, psycho bastard for a few months. All’s forgiven.’ Right!"

Giles hardly seemed thrilled with that prospect. But Buffy could tell that her Watcher was trying to think logically. As usual.

"Cordelia," Giles said. "Could you describe your visions in more detail?"

"I don’t know," she said. "It was kind of like flipping through TV channels really fast. And with the sound off. And this was different from that first vision. It didn’t hurt or anything. It was kind of, like, a rush of memories. Or whatever." Sighing, she closed her eyes. "I see Angel fighting demons. And saving people. A lot of people." She pressed her hand to her temple. "And joking around with these two guys. And holding a…a baby." She frowned. As if even she couldn’t believe that one.

"Yeah, ‘cause *that’s* who you want for a nanny," Xander said sarcastically.

Silence fell over the room as they waited for Cordelia to go on. When she didn’t, Giles took a step towards her.

"Cordelia?" the Watcher prompted.

Cordelia opened her eyes. She cast a hesitant glance around the room. "A lot of what I saw was…me and Angel. Together."

"Together?" Buffy frowned. What was that supposed to mean?

Xander gave his girlfriend a suspicious glance. "Together? Together how?"

"I don’t know." Cordelia shrugged. "Just…doing stuff. Watching a movie. Or talking. Eating breakfast. Me patching him up when he’s hurt. Him sitting by my bed when I’m sick." A slight smile curved her lips. "I actually think that’s happened more than once." Looking at some distant point, she frowned. "And I think Angel’s teaching me how to fight."

There was a silence as everyone tried to absorb what Cordelia was saying. Buffy wondered if anyone else noticed she was talking in the present tense. Like this was stuff that had already happened, rather than stuff she’d seen in a vision, happening in the future.

"I don’t think he…*we* are in Sunnydale anymore. I mean, it looks more like LA. And I didn’t see any of you in the images. Just a lot of people I don’t recognize. But they feel like…like friends. Family, even."

Buffy was shaking her head even before the other girl stopped talking.

"So, what are you saying?" Buffy demanded, folding her arms. "Your visions are telling you that, in the future, Angel will leave Sunnydale"—Leave me, she thought—"and move to LA, where you and he will become bestest buds." She shook her head. "I don’t buy it."

"What?" Cordelia exclaimed. She gave Buffy an incredulous look.

"Buffy," Willow began.

"No!" the Slayer said. "It’s obvious Cordelia was having a dream or something. Maybe it was the trauma of being attacked…"

"Buffy," Giles interrupted. He gave her a quelling look. "We already know Cordelia has developed some kind of precognitive ability. An ability you yourself proved to be valid. There’s every reason to believe the vision she had last night is also valid." There was a pregnant pause. "If not, we also have to discount Cordelia’s belief that Angel’s soul will be restored."

"I’ll buy that," Xander said, raising his hand. His lips pressed together so tight, there was a white line around them.

Buffy shook her head. No. She didn’t want to discount the part about Angel’s soul being restored. That was the only part she liked.

But wasn’t it possible that part had been the actual vision, and the rest was a figment of Cordelia’s imagination. It was possible. Right?

And, if Angel’s soul was restored, why on Earth would he leave Sunnydale?

((Leave me?))

"Do you know how his soul gets restored?" Willow asked Cordelia. "Maybe we could…"

"No," Cordelia shook her head. "I didn’t get that part."

Giles sighed. "Well, until you do, there’s nothing we can do."

"There’s one thing we *have* to do," Cordelia said. "We have to do that un-invite thingy on my house. Nobody’s home to notice the weirdness. My dad’s working late. And my mom’s leaving on a weekend spa retreat this afternoon."

"I’ll take care of it after school," Willow said. "I still have everything we need."

"Thanks." She touched the bandage on the side of her neck. "I still don’t know who invited him in in the first place."

"That’s neither here nor there," the Watcher said. "What matters is that we prevent him from getting in again?" He looked at the clock. "Now, I think it was time you were all getting to class."

Buffy didn’t want to leave. She wanted to get this vision thing straightened out. But a look from Giles prompted her to move towards the door.

"Cordelia," the Watcher began. "I don’t think you’re in any condition to sit through classes today. Why don’t you go home and…"

"No." She shook her head. "I don’t want to be alone. Or with people who don’t know one end of a stake from another. Can I just stay in here? Sleep on your couch, maybe?"

"Of course."

"And I’ll be in to check on you," Xander said. "Every hour on the hour."

"Thanks," Cordelia said, giving him a faint smile. Pushing wearily to her feet, Cordelia staggered into the librarian’s office.
____________________

Once his charges had left, Giles slumped into a chair at one of the library’s tables.

The truth was, he wasn’t any happier about Angel’s soul being restored than Xander was. After what had happened to Jenny—the perverse pleasure the vampire took in arranging her body for Giles to find—the only thing that kept him going was the thought that Angel would pay. That Giles would kill him, with his own bare hands. In the most painful way he could devise.

Somehow, killing an Angel *without* a soul was a much easier prospect to contemplate.

But Willow was correct. If Angel’s soul was restored, he would stop tormenting Buffy. Stop hurting her friends. Stop being a danger to them all.

Sighing, standing, Giles turned…to find Cordelia standing in the doorway of his office.

"Cordelia," the Watcher said with a startled gasp.

"Giles," the girl said, coming into the library proper. "I just remembered something. It’s the only thing I heard in that vision."

Giles waited for his heart to stop pounding before speaking. "What was it?"

"It was a word." She frowned, as if trying to recall correctly. "Bizente."
___________________

Angelus sat in a chair, glowering at nothing.

Drucilla flitted around the master bedroom, like a black butterfly, unable to find a place to land.

Angelus could feel Spike, sitting outside in his wheelchair, glaring at the door. Had been since Angelus got home last night and dragged Dru into his room.

Too bad he wasn’t in the mood to enjoy Spike’s jealous anger.

Too bad a night with Dru hadn’t eased his tension. His frustration.

He licked his lips, still able to taste the girl’s warm, rich blood on his tongue.

He wanted more. So much more.

"I can see her," Drucilla said. She paused in her flittering to stand in front of him. "Smell her, all around you."

Angelus glared at his childe. He wasn’t in the mood for her insane babbling. Not today. "Go away, Dru. Go play with Miss Edith. Or something."

The demented vampiress didn’t listen. Instead, she knelt down between his legs. A familiar, vacant look on her face, she pressed her hand to his heart. "She lives here," she said in a soft, whispery voice. Then, quick as mercury, anger clouded her face. "First, you love the Slayer. Now *her*."

Growling, Angelus grabbed her arm. He pushed her away from him, so that she lay sprawled on the floor. "I don’t love her!" he snarled. Standing, he began to pace.

Dru watched him with eyes both mad and knowing. "You will *then*. So you do *now*."

Angelus barely heard her cryptic ramblings. Instead, he stalked from one corner of the room to another.

He barely remembered the images that filled his mind when he’d bit Cordelia Chase. Similar things had happened to him before. Sometimes, when he bit into a victim, he could almost see their life flash before his eyes. All the possibilies. All the potential. Their futures. Dead at his hands.

But this was different. He’d never felt anything like the feelings these images had evoked. Feelings so strong, he ran away from them like a frightened fledgling.

Feelings that consumed his mind and raced through his borrowed blood. Made his mouth water at the thought of tasting one girl. At the thought of burying himself inside her warmth. Again. And again.

Angelus scowled. Why had he let her go? She was there, in his grasp. There for him to do whatever he wanted to and with her. And he just…ran away.

Now, they would be warned. Ready. Her precious friends and their precious Slayer would do whatever they could to protect her. From him.

((They’ll fail,)) he thought. And a ruthless sparkle lit his eye.

"Ooooh," Dru suddenly giggled. A look of innocent, insane joy spread across her face as she clapped her hands. "I’m going to have a sister!"

"Yes you are, Dru," Angelus promised. His hands balled into fists so tight, the knuckles cracked. "Soon."

PART FOUR

The Past…

The Scooby Gang filed into Cordelia Chase’s house.

"I need to lie down," Cordelia said in a tired, worn voice. She pressed her hand against the bandage on her neck. "If anybody wants anything…" And she waved vaguely around the house.

"I’ll help you to your room, Cor," Xander offered. "Just lean against my manly arm for support."

Cordelia rolled her eyes. "Manly?" she said, doubt clear in her voice. But she took the offered arm.

As they headed up the stairs, a goofy grin spread across Xander’s face. "I don’t believe it. I finally get to see your bedroom!"

"Take advantage," his girlfriend said. "Because this is the only time that’s *ever* going to happen."

As the two disappeared from sight, Buffy closed the front door.

"Nice place," the Slayer said. Which was a definite understatement. The house dripped money and class from every pore.

"I’ve been here before." Willow’s grin was smug. "At Cordy’s twelfth birthday party."

"*Cor-delia,*" Buffy said with disbelief, "invited you to her birthday party?"

"Well, not actually," Willow admitted. "Her mother did. I don’t think Mrs. Chase is all that up on who her daughter’s friends are. She must have heard Cordelia mention my name, and decided we were best buds."

"Oh," Buffy nodded. That made more sense.

Willow sighed wistfully. "That was the best birthday cake I ever tasted."

Setting their bags down in the foyer, the two girls removed the supplies they’d need for the un-invite spell.

As she worked, Buffy’s mind was raced. With the same thoughts she’d been thinking pretty much all day long.

If what Cordelia said was true, Angel was going to get his soul back. He‘d get his soul back and stop hating her. And hurting her. And hurting her friends.

It helped to ease her guilt. A little. Because ever since he’d lost his soul—ever since she’d had the chance to kill him but couldn’t take it—she’d felt guilty. Guilty for all the things he’d done, the people he’d killed. Guilty for wanting *her* Angel back, in spite of everything.

Of course, nothing could make up for all of those lives. For all of the pain. But, if there really was an end to this nightmare, maybe she could stop blaming herself.

And she just wouldn’t think about the other stuff Cordelia had…

"Do you really think Angel will come after Cordelia again?" Willow asked, almost as if she’d read Buffy’s mind. "I mean, he’s tried to kill me and Xander before. And, when he failed, he just moved on to something else."

"I know," Buffy said. "So, probably not."

Unless this was different. Those times Angel had tried to kill Willow and Xander, it hadn’t really been *about* them. It was about getting at Buffy. While she didn’t think he’d been happy when Willow and Xander got away, Buffy could imagine him shrugging off those failures, and trying to think of some new way to make her life miserable.

But Cordelia was a seer…like Drucilla. Which he now knew. And if he became obsessed with Cordelia…

"I think we’re ready," Willow said as she stood up.

Snapping out of her reverie, Buffy sighed. "Let’s get started."

"Hey," Xander said as he loped down the stairs. "Is there any nudity involved in this ritual? Because I read all the books, and sometimes, for this stuff to work, the participants must be of the natural."

"No, Xander." Willow blushed to the roots of her red hair. "We keep our clothes *on* for this one."

"Bummer." After a moment of disappointed silence, he moved on. "I’m staying here with Cordy until her pops gets home. Anybody want to join me. Strength in numbers and all that."

"I would, but I can’t," Buffy said. "I promised Mom I’d help at this new opening at the gallery."

"And my parents want to spend some quality time with me," Willow said. "It happens every time my mother reads a study on parental involvement or troubled teens. Well, if the studies written by someone she really respects." She opened her trusty book of spells. "I’m glad Giles could wolf-sit with Oz tonight."

"So, that’s it, then." Xander cast a long, wary look around. "Just me and Cordelia. All alone. In this big old house."

"Don’t worry, Xander," Buffy said. "Once we do this spell, you’re set."

"Well, good. I mean, if Angel kills me, it would prove I was right all along when I said we shouldn’t trust that blood-sucking fiend. But I don’t think I’ll have as much fun gloating if I’m dead."

((Hello, the guilt,)) Buffy sighed.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Willow slap Xander upside the head.

Which made her feel a little better.
____________________

The sun set right on time.

Sitting in the Chase’s massive living room, a comic book open and unread on his lap, Xander’s knee nervously bounced up and down.

He knew he was safe. Well, as safe as anyone could get in Sunnydale. It wasn’t like there was anyone in the Chase residence would beg the vamp to come in for cocktails.

But that didn’t do much to ease Xander’s anxiety. Because Angel had already gotten in once. And, who knew? There might be some kind of loop-hole…

Heart pounding, Xander shot out of his seat. Suddenly, he wasn’t all that thrilled with being alone.

"I’ll go check on Cordy," he said. "Yeah, that’s what I’ll do. Check on my sweetie." And he ran up the stairs.

In her bedroom, Cordelia slept peacefully.

The bandage on her neck was like a beacon. It drew Xander’s eyes to it. Renewed his anger. And filled him with fear.

Kneeling down next to her, Xander took a deep breath. It had been close. Way too close. And even Giles couldn’t say why Cordelia was still alive. Probably another one of Angel’s sick games.

"So, the only reason my girlfriend isn’t dead is because of some bloodsucker’s whim," he muttered. "*That* is a mind easer."

A part of Xander wished he had been there. That he’d been able to protect her somehow.

But another voice scoffed at the idea.

((What were you going to do? Give his fists a good beating with your face? Let him break your neck, and hope the remorse killed him? Yeah. Right.))

When the ‘phone rang, he almost jumped out of his skin.

Taking a deep breath, Xander answered Cordelia’s cell.

"Yell-o?"

"Xander?" Giles said. "Good. I wasn’t sure I’d be able to reach you at this number."

"Hey, G-Man," the teen said, happy to hear another voice. "What’s up?"

"I’m doing some research into Cordelia’s visions. Unfortunately, some of the texts I need are at my apartment." In the background, there was a loud, bone-chilling howl. "And I can’t leave Oz in the library alone."

Xander frowned. "You want me to take wolf-sitting duty?"

"If you wouldn’t mind. It won’t be for long."

"Take my car," said a faint, groggy voice.

Startled, Xander looked down at Cordelia. While her eyes were still closed, she was obviously awake.

"Take my car," she repeated. "It’s not safe to walk."

"Xander?" Giles said. "Are you still there?"

"Yeah. Just a sec." He held the ‘phone away from his ear, and asked Cordelia, "Are you sure?"

She nodded. "Just tell him to hurry." And she quickly drifted back to sleep.

After a moment’s hesitation, he nodded. "I’ll be right there, Giles," he said, and he hung up the ‘phone.
____________________

Angelus could almost feel the power of the un-invite spell. Pushing against him. Pushing him away.

With an angry snarl, he paced in front of Cordelia Chase’s house. One way. Then the other. Like a wild animal, trying to find a way out of a cage.

Or, in this case, find a way into one.

He could almost feel her inside. Locked away from him. Cordelia.

His imagination replayed the moment when he fed from her. Over and over again.

His fangs plunged into her warm, tender flesh.

Rich, sweet blood bathed his tongue. Flowed down his throat.

His brain seethed with need. His body throbbed with a hunger for more.

Pausing, Angelus closed his eyes, squeezed the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger.

He almost wished he’d never tasted her. Because, now, he couldn’t get it out of his mind. It filled him with a craving that seemed to grow with every moment. Every second. His desire for another taste—just one more taste—was starting to consume him. To take control.

And Angelus hated being out of control.

He didn’t understand it. How one girl, who had meant nothing to him a few days ago, was suddenly all he could think about.

At first, he’d thought it was because she was a seer. After all, he’d become obsessed with a seer before.

But his preoccupation with Drucilla had been nothing like this. What he’d done to Dru over a century ago hadn’t really been *about* Dru. It was about the game. Finding new ways to torment her. To break her. To make that gifted mind of hers snap.

This was different. Yes, he wanted to hurt Cordelia. To break her with his own hands. But, more importantly, he wanted to taste her again. To crush her body beneath his, and…

Suddenly, the front door opened.

Instinctively, Angelus melted into the surrounding shadows.

Xander Harris exited the house and closed the door behind him. Whistling tunelessly, he started down the walkway.

Angelus watched Cordelia’s boyfriend with narrowed eyes. Images of the two of them together filled his mind.

Holding hands.

Tucked away in some dark corner at the Bronze, stealing kisses.

His arm thrown across her shoulders, as if she belonged to him.

A low growl rumbled deep in the vampire’s chest.

Xander froze in his tracks. His eyes darted nervously around the moonlit lawn.

The growl had been low, Angelus knew. Much too low for the teen to have heard. But every human had a primal instinct that told them when they were in danger.

And Xander Harris was in danger now.

Angelus considered killing him. Hearing the Xander Harris’s bones crack might ease the frustration that clawed at his skin from the inside.

But no, the vampire decided. It would be more fun if he and Cordelia killed the boy together.

Shrugging, as if to shake off his fear, Xander hurried to the circular driveway. Hopping into Cordelia’s sporty red car, he sped away.

And was quickly forgotten.

Angelus glared at the house. For now, the girl was beyond his reach. But she wouldn’t be for long. Eventually, she and her friends would let their guard down. And he’d be there to take her.

Until then…

He might as well grab something to eat.
____________________

Cordy made it to the top of the stairs just in time to see Angel kick open a door at the end of the hall.

And a strange light poured out of the room, flooded the hallway. Like wafts of illuminated smoke, floating on silver beams.

Cordelia was mesmerized by it. Unable to move, or even feel afraid. Just watch as the light rushed toward her. Fast…but in some kind of weird slow motion.

Then, she saw Angel fall.

"Angel," Cordelia gasped, waking with a start.

Her heart thundered as she glanced around the room, unsure of where she was at first.

"My bedroom," she breathed. "I’m at home."

Alone, she realized. She’d sent Xander away. At the time, she was too groggy to really be afraid.

But, now, a flood of memories rushed over her. Of everything that had happened to her the night before. In this room. On this bed.

Filled with a sudden desire to get as far away from it as possible, she started to stand.

And that’s when the pain slammed into her. Snatched her out of her room. Transported her to another place.

She saw a girl with long, dark hair. Wide, brown eyes. Wearing a knock-off of one of Cordelia’s favorite designers.

A stranger approached the girl. He was tall, and dark, and gorgeous. And had the most wicked smile she’d ever seen.

The girl’s heart started to pound with anticipation.

The vision released her, dropping Cordelia back in her bedroom.

"No," she whispered, as she realized what she had seen.

Angelus. And his next victim.

The next vision hit with more force than the first, knocking her off of the bed.

The girl was terrified now. She hurt in more ways than she’d ever thought it was possible to hurt. Just when she thought there was nothing else he could do to her, he added another layer of pain. Of violation.

Nothing satisfied him. For brief moments, he was able to pretend the girl was someone else. But those moments were fleeting. He would remember that this girl wasn’t the one he wanted. And he would hurt her even more cruelly, more viciously, than he had before.

Abruptly, the vision ended. Cordelia lay trembling on the floor. Her stomach churned from what she’d seen. What she’d felt.

"No," she gasped, her head pounding. "Oh, no."
____________________

Angelus stood in the shadows. His eyes scoured the Bronze. Moved restlessly from one vibrant, youthful body to another. The smells of blood and musk pulled at his hunger.

Arms stiff at his sides, he clenched and unclenched his hands. All he wanted was something to eat. Something to kill. And, on any other night, anyone would have done. But tonight…

He spotted the perky little blond from a few nights ago. The one with the inviting smile. Who’d offered herself to him like a lamb offering itself to a wolf.

On any other night, she would have been an amusing diversion. Tonight, she didn’t ignite even a spark of interest.

No-one did. Until he saw her.

Their was a resemblance. Or, at least, the shadow of one. True, her long, dark hair didn’t have the same shine. Her tall, lithe body didn’t have the same sinful curves. Her eyes didn’t have the same spark. Her smile didn’t have the same electricity. But…

"She’ll do," he decided. And started to walk towards her.

He’d barely taken a step when something touched his senses. Something tantalizing. And familiar.

Angelus’s head reared back. He sniffed at the air. Like a predator on the scent of prey.

As he realized who the scent belonged to, the demon briefly flickered across his face. Growling deep in his chest, causing several of the people close to him to pull away, he turned.

That was no pale imitation standing at the entrance to the Bronze.

It was Cordelia Chase.

PART FIVE

The Past…

Angelus melted into the shadows. Let them cloak him in darkness.

The young, warm bodies that filled the Bronze, surrounded him on every side, seemed to disappear. The sounds of music, of laughter and unceasing chatter, muted until they were gone.

All he could see—all he wanted to see—was Cordelia Chase.

She was stunning. Dressed in a dark red mini-dress—the color of drying blood. Her long, dark hair flowing down her back like silk. A white bandage on her neck evidence that he’d fed from her the night before.

Her scent made him take one deep, unnecessary breath after another. Flooded his senses with the essence of her.

The frustration that had clawed at him since he drank her began to ease. And, in its place, hunger began to burn. A fire raging through his cold, undead body.

And his mouth watered with the craving.

He’d thought it would be weeks, months, before he had another taste of her. That he’d have to slaughter a dozen pretty young things to make up for the fact that he could have one.

And in she walked. Free as a bird. No magical barriers to protect her.

All alone.

His for the taking.
____________________

Cordelia Chase’s eyes scanned the Bronze. Searching for a glimpse of a tall, powerful body. Spiky hair. Black leather. A cruel, malicious smile.

((Good,)) she thought with a sigh of relief. ((He isn’t here. Yet.))

Instead, she saw people dancing. Talking. Laughing. All unaware of the deadly things that stalked the Sunnydale night.

Taking a deep breath, Cordelia gave herself a moment to let the fear wash over her. To call herself all kinds of stupid for walking freely into a place where she knew the vamp who tried to kill her the night before was going to be.

She gave her knees a moment to shake. Her teeth a moment to chatter.

Then, she pushed the fear away. Just, pushed it away, into a little corner where she kept all of the emotions she didn’t want to deal with. A skill she started perfecting the first time her parents weren’t home for Christmas.

With the ease of years of practice, she donned the armor she put on every morning. That of Queen C, Wicked Bitch of Sunnydale High. She who ruled the school, and made freshman tremble when she walked down the hall.

She straightened her spine. Raised one arrogant eyebrow. Put on the mask that told all who saw it to steer clear, because she really didn’t want to be bothered. And anyone who *did* bother her would pay.

Head held high, she started across the room.

The crowd parted before her. She may have lost some of her social status when she started dating Xander and hanging with the Scoobies. But she was still Cordelia Chase.

Sitting down at the only empty table, she looked around the room.

The girl from her vision was there. She stood at the bar. Surrounded by friends, smiling and happy. As oblivious as everyone else in the Bronze.

But Cordelia had “seen” her, face frozen in a mask of terror and pain. Body bruised and scarred. Covered with blood…

((And it’s all because she looks like me,)) Cordy thought. Because, from a distance, under the Bronze’s dim lights, the girl could have been mistaken for Cordelia Chase.

And that was why Angel was going to pick her.

Cordelia shivered. She didn’t want to believe it. That a vicious killer would choose his next victim because they resembled her. But she knew it was true. She’d *felt* it, in the vision.

Cordelia shied away from the emotions she’d experienced in that vision. Sensations that were still too fresh in her mind.

The girl was still alive, still here. Unbroken. Untouched.

And Cordelia was going to make sure she stayed that way. After all, why would Angel go after a copy when he could have…

Suddenly, a hand came to rest on the nape of her neck. She felt the cold of it—cold as death—through the thickness of her hair.

“Fancy meeting you here,” a frighteningly familiar voice purred.

“Angel,” she whispered…as heart dropped into her stomach.

“Cordelia,” he said. And there was something dark and dangerous in his voice. “You don’t know how…happy I am to see you.” And the hand at the back of her neck tightened.

Cordelia squeezed her eyes shut as a shiver raced through her body. Fear was a tangible thing. Like ice, it froze the blood in her veins.

Abruptly, the hand moved away. And Cordelia released the breath she hadn’t even realized she was holding.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Angel pull a chair out from the table. He moved it close to hers, he sat down.

Cordy turned to look at him…and wished she hadn’t. His eyes were roamed over every inch of exposed skin. Like twin onyx razors. Sharp and cutting.

Trying not to let her uneasiness show, she glared at him. “What do you want?”

Eyes still roaming, still cutting, a slight smile quirked his lips. “Something I didn’t think I would get for a very long time.” Finally, his gaze met hers. “And what brought you out of your ivory tower?”

Unbidden, her eyes went to the girl. Angel’s intended victim.

Angel followed her glance. “Ah,” he said with a knowing nod. “You had a vision. You saw the…things I had planned for this evening.”

Cordelia didn’t answer. She didn’t need to.

“So, where’s Buffy? I’m sure the Slayer and her pals would have been happy to ride to the rescue.”

Again, she didn’t answer. And, again, she didn’t need to.

“Guess they were all busy.” He reached up, pushed her hair behind her shoulder, just as he had that night. Exposing the bandage. “So, you decided to play hero, hmmmm? Well, you’ve succeeded. The girl is perfectly safe. Now.”

“So glad to hear it,” Cordy heard herself say. And was surprised by the touch of sarcasm in her voice.

Angel didn’t seem to hear her. Instead, he draped one arm across the back of her chair. Began to stroke her hair with the other hand.

And something inside Cordelia screamed for her to run. To get as far away from him as she could, and now.

But where could she go where he wouldn’t follow? At least here, surrounded by people, she felt somewhat safe.

But even here, surrounded by people, she felt completely alone.

“Have I told you how beautiful you look tonight,” he said casually. “Except for one thing.” And he used his thumbnail to lift up one corner of the bandage.

“What…” Cordelia began…just as he viciously ripped the bandage away.

Cordelia winced. Her skin stung.

“Everyone should see my mark,” he said. And he traced the bite marks with one fingertip. “Everyone should know you’ve been touched. By me.”

Even as she flinched away from his touch, Angel moved close, until his nose was inches from her ear. She heard him take a deep breath. And he released it with what sounded like a purr.

Cordelia cringed.

“I think it’s time for us to leave,” he said.

Cordelia looked at him like he was crazy. “Me? Skip out into the dark, Sunnydale night with the Slayer’s psycho ex just a bite away.” She snorted with disbelief, feeling a spark of Queen C spirit. “I don’t think so.”

Angel seemed un-phased. Instead, his hand drifted, feather-light, down her throat. Down the valley between her breasts. Until his palm rested flat against her stomach.

Cordy wondered how his hand could be so cold, but burn at the same time.

“You come with me now,” he growled into her ear. “Or I’ll kill your little good Samaritan project. And her friends. And maybe a dozen more.”

Cordelia turned to stare at him, eyes wide with dawning horror. He wouldn’t…

“What? You didn’t think I’d kill her in public?” He shook his head. His smile was wolfish. Cruel. “Why not? I love an audience.”

Cordelia swallowed. He’d do it, too. Kill the girl. And who knew who else.

And, since he’d do it because she refused to go with him, it would be her fault.

Not giving herself a chance to think about it, Cordelia stood up.

“Good girl.” Standing, he helpfully handed her her purse. “Let’s go.”

Then, not giving her a chance to balk, he took her forearm and began to lead her…away from the front entrance.

“Wait,” she gasped. “My mom’s car is out front.”

“But I like the back,” he said. “I’ve had some of my best times out in that alley.” And he half lead/half pulled he through the Bronze.

Cordelia stumbled behind him. Her heart raced so fast, she could feel the vein pounding in her temple. In her throat.

He pulled her down the dark hallway, past the bathrooms and the pay ‘phone. Finally paused in front of the emergency exit.

He clutched her shoulders, and turned her to face him. In an instant, his human face was gone, replaced by his demonic visage.

Cordelia couldn’t hold back a startled moan.

Hungry, yellow eyes raced over her body. Devoured her. And, even though she knew he didn’t need to breath, he was panting.

“Now,” he growled. And, without another word, he shoved her against the wall. And, then, he was kissing her. Razor sharp fangs cutting into her lips. Making her bleed.

Cordelia cried out in pain. As his hands roamed freely, roughly over her body, tears began to gather in her eyes.

Trying not to become lost in the horror of the moment, Cordelia reached into her purse.

As he pressed his hips against hers, Cordy rammed the taser into his side.

With a startled, outraged cry, Angel fell, unconscious, to the floor.

“Oh, thank goodness,” a very British voice sighed, his relief evident.

Cordelia barely heard him. Because, suddenly, she was shaking. All over. So badly, the taser fell out of her hand.

“Oh, dear,” the stranger said as he hurried towards her. Concern written all over his face. “Are you alright?” he asked, and reached out to put a comforting hand on her shoulder.

The hand passed right through her body.

“Don’t *do* that!” Cordelia snapped, already pushed beyond her limits.

“Sorry.” Chagrined, Wesley stared at his hand. “I keep forgetting I have no substance in this time period.”

Trying to swallow the lump that had lodged itself in her throat, Cordelia pressed her hands over her eyes. Tried to remember how to breathe.

She just wanted this night to be over.

Pushing away from the wall, Cordelia staggered to the exit and pushed open the door.

Giles was in the alleyway. Preparing.

“Giles,” Cordy called. Her voice trembled.

The Watcher looked up from the symbols he was drawing on the cement. And he was obviously surprised to see her. “Cordelia? You weren’t supposed to lure Angel out here for another”—he glanced at his watch—“fifteen more minutes.”

“Well, he moved the timetable up a little.” She gave him a well-deserved glare. “And I am “never” going to be bait *ever* again!”

The librarian had the decency to look embarrassed. “Yes, of course.”

The trio headed back into the Bronze. Each grabbing hold of one of the vampire’s arms, Giles and Cordelia dragged him out into the alleyway. The deposited him inside the circle Giles had drawn.

Wesley watched from the sidelines. From the expression on his face, he desperately wanted to help. But, since he couldn’t touch anything, he was powerless.

“I haven’t finished the preparations yet,” Giles said. “Cordelia, if you would guard Angel, please.”

“Whatever,” she said with a tired sigh.

So, while Giles used chalk to draw markings on the ground, Cordelia stood over the vampire, taser in hand.

She glared down at him his unconscious form. Her teeth clenched so tight, she heard her jaw crack. She wanted to…to hurt him. To kick him in his side. To stomp on his groin. To pick up a rock, and slam it into his head. She wanted him to wake up, so she could ram the taser into him again.

She could never remember being this angry. This filled with hate.

And she didn’t like it, much.

“Are you alright?” Wesley asked.

Cordelia glanced at the man who’d appeared in her bedroom moments after she had her vision.

“I’m fine,” she said through gritted teeth.

From the sympathetic looks he was giving her, it was obvious he didn’t believe her. “Don’t worry. It will all be over soon.”

Cordelia nodded, but couldn’t really believe it.

In fact, she couldn’t really believe any of this.

That, thanks to some temporal magic “infection” she and Angel had, their future minds had been cast back into their present bodies.

That this was the *second* time it had happened.

That, in the future, she and Angel were best friends. Closer to each other than they were to anyone else.

“He cares about you a great deal,” Wesley had told. “Which explains why he is so obsessed with you now. Given Angelus’s desire to hurt those Angel loves the most.”

According to Wesley, during their first time trip, very little time had passed in the future while they were in the past. Maybe a second.

But, this time, their future selves had been unconscious for nearly 36 hours.

“Of course,” he’d explained, as he looked curiously around her bedroom, “I had no idea you and Angel were trapped in the past, with no clue who you were…er, were going to be. No idea that you were out of place, let alone any notion of how you could rectify the situation. But I did know it was imperative that I find out what was going on first hand.”

Apparently, he didn’t have the temporal infection thingy. So he couldn’t actually transport himself, mind or body, into the past.

But he speculated that Angel and Cordelia were still connected with their minds, no matter where they were in time. And he could use that connection to make contact with one of them. To project his consciousness into the past.

He’d tried to make contact with Angel first. Several times.

Under the circumstances, they were lucky those attempts had failed.

Once Wesley had finished his little narrative, Cordelia called Giles, who had already found out all about the bizente in his research. So it didn’t take much explaining to convince him of what had happened.

And the rest was history.

“It’s weird,” Cordelia muttered.

“I beg your pardon,” Wesley said.

“It’s just that…we thought the stuff I saw when Angel bit me were visions of the future. It’s weird to think they were memories of stuff that’s already happened.”

“Happy memories?”

Cordelia recalled the images that had flooded her mind. They had *seemed* like happy memories.

“We’re ready,” Giles said. Standing, he dusted the chalk off of his hands. He cast an uneasy glance around the alleyway. “Is your…friend still here?”

Cordy glanced at Wesley.

“Well, ask him if I’ve done this correctly?”

Wesley’s glance took in the preparations with a glance. “I’m certain you have. The symbols are accurate. The candles positioned precisely at the…”

“He says yes,” Cordelia said, rolling her eyes. Wesley seemed to love words as much as Giles did.

The Watcher glanced down at Angel’s prone body. A speculative frown marred his brow. “I wonder what kind of horrors I could prevent by staking him right now,” he said. He sounded very reasonable and rational.

For her part, Cordelia wasn’t opposed to the idea. Except for in a little corner of her mind that she easily ignored.

But Wesley seemed horrified.

“You can’t…!” he began, alarmed. Then, he seemed to make an effort to calm down. “I won’t lie and say Angelus won’t do some truly evil things in the coming months,” he said. “But his soul will be restored. And, when it is, he will become an incredible force for good.”

Reluctantly, Cordelia relayed the message.

After a moment’s hesitation, Giles began to read from the book.

And a tornado of silver light appeared inside the circle. It swirled around the vampire, like smoke drifting through moonbeams. Faster and faster. Until, finally, the tornado seemed to collapse into him, spreading through his body. And, then, the light vanished.

“That’s it?” Cordelia asked. “It worked?”

“It would seem so,” Giles said with a frown.

“Yes,” Wesley said at the same time. “The spell has transported Angel’s mind back into his future body.” He glanced around the alley. “Now, I suggest we remove all evidence of the ritual. When he comes to, Angelus shouldn’t have any memories of what occurred in the past few days. And I don’t think we should leave him any clues.”
____________________

Angelus woke with a groan.

Frowning, he sat up. And cast a puzzled glance around at his surroundings.

What the @#%$ was he doing in the alley behind the Bronze? The last thing he remembered was going to sleep at the mansion. Dreaming of new ways to turn Buffy’s life into @#%$.

How the hell did he get here?

And what was this feeling?

That something important had gotten away.

Something that made his body throb, and his fangs ache.

Something that made his stomach clench with hunger, and hard with need.

Something he couldn’t remember.
____________________

Giles finished drawing the symbols on his living room floor.

“Why do I get the feeling I’ve done this here before?” he mumbled.

“Well, you haven’t yet,” Wesley said. “But you will.”

When Cordelia relayed this message, the Watcher gave her a puzzled frown.

“And, of course,” Wesley continued, “once the ritual is completed, neither one of you will remember why you are here, alone, in Mr. Giles’s apartment.”

This news was met with even less enthusiasm.

“Lovely,” the librarian grumbled. “Cordelia, if you would just step into the circle.”

But Cordelia hesitated. “Are you sure I won’t have those really not nice visions anymore?” she asked Wesley.

“Quite sure,” Wesley said with certainty. “You won’t have another vision until you receive the gift from Doyle two years from now.”

“Well, good,” she said, relieved to hear it. But, still, she hesitated.

Because she was about to step into a future she knew nothing about. One that seemed familiar but strange. Unknown, and scary.

She had to remind herself that the part of her that was returning to that future belonged there. And, once it was done, maybe she’d feel right again.

“Okay,” she sighed. “Let’s get it done.”

Taking a deep, calming breath, she stepped into the circle.

And Giles began to read…
____________________

Wesley woke with a start.

He was sitting in a chair next to Angel’s bed.

“Hey, Wes man!” Gunn said as he came closer. “How’d it go?”

“Yeah. Did ya…fix things?” Fred asked eagerly. “Is everything going to be alright?”

The ex-Watcher blinked, trying to get his bearings. Yawning, stretching out the kinks, he glanced towards the bed.

Cordelia and Angel were beginning to stir.

“Things are going to be fine,” Wesley said with a relieved sigh.

Moments later, Angel and Cordelia were awake. And looking around with equally puzzled frowns on their faces.

“What’s going on?” Angel asked as he sat up.

“Yeah,” Cordelia said. “Weren’t we just at…that guy Eddie’s house? How did we get here?”

Wesley barely contained a shocked gasp. When this happened before, the two recalled every moment of their experience in the past. It never occurred to him that…

“You don’t remember?” he asked.

Cordelia shook her head. “No.”

Angel didn’t say a thing. Just stared at Wesley in that intense way that said he knew something was wrong. And he intended to find out what.

In that moment, the ex-Watcher decided not to tell them what had happened. After all, he was the only one who knew *when* the two had ended up. That they had been transported to a time when Angel didn’t have a soul.

Angel had come so far in recent months. The last thing he needed was to take on the guilt of things he’d done as Angelus four years ago.

Or yesterday.

Wesley shook his head at the confusing paradox. In any event, knowing the details of this latest temporal journey, all the things he’d done to Cordelia, wouldn’t help anyone. Especially him.

And if Wesley could spare Cordelia the knowledge of the things Angelus had done to her…

“I’ll explain everything later. After you’ve rested.” ((And once I come up with a believable lie,)) Wesley thought. “But it had to do with the bizente.”

Angel looked skeptical. Like he already knew Wesley was hiding something.

Cordelia’s confusion quickly turned into anger. “Dammit!” she exclaimed. “We have to find some kind of cure for this infection or whatever. Because I don’t want to spend the rest of my life bouncing through time! Especially not to when I was 13, which sooo wasn’t my best year.” Shaking her head, she moved to get out of the bed.

Angel moved so fast, all Wesley saw was a blur. As, with predatory speed, the vampire grabbed Cordelia’s upper arm.

“Ow!” Cordelia yelped, making everyone in the room jump. “Angel!”

The vampire let her go immediately. “Sorry.” He sounded as startled as everyone else felt. “I don’t know what…”

“Great,” Cordy sighed as she rubbed her arm. “I’m going to have bruises, Mr. Superior Vampy Strength.”

“I said I was sorry,” Angel said.

Wesley frowned, wondering if anyone else heard the growl under Angel’s words.

As the Angel Investigations team filed out of the bedroom, Wesley felt the first stirrings of uneasiness.

Whether he remembered it or not, Angel had just spent several days as Angelus, at a time when he was at his most brutal and bloodthirsty. There was no telling who he had killed. How many victims he had taken.

And, in that time, his affection for Cordelia had turned into a dangerous obsession. He stalked her. Terrorized her. Brutalized her. Drank from her.

Well, Angel was back now. Soul intact.

But there was no telling what the consequences of his most recent journey through time might be.

(THE END)

Another Time

Rating: M

Disclaimer

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