Faded Prayers by Syrenslure
Summary: Cordelia waits for Angelus and reflects on what has happened and what is to come.
Spoilers: Awakening, Season Four.
Notes: This is a response to a gloveslap from Gileswench on the YGTS? list. However, my mind was totally wrapped up in the episode Awakening, and this is what came out. This is kind of dark and involves multiple character deaths.
"Layers. That's what
it is all about," Cordelia mused. "One thing after
another, piled high,
rolled together for one tasty bite."
She sat cross-legged
on the bare floor, eating sushi from the black plastic
container that she
had picked up at the health food store on the corner. She maneuvered
the cheap wooden chopsticks to pick up another slice of the sushi
roll and looked at
it carefully. Sesame seeds, shiny, sticky rice and seaweed going round and round. Carrots, cucumber, bell
pepper, takuan and salmon.
Layers.
Each was hand
rolled, shaped by an expert with quick hands and a quicker
knife. It was beyond
her control and no two bites were alike. You could see it
all, but you never knew for sure what it would be like until you sank your teeth into the tender flesh.
She pressed the
sushi into the wasabi and brought it to her lips. She bit
deeply and
immediately hissed, breathing quickly through her mouth as the fire
burned hotly through the roof of her mouth, all the way through her nasal passages. That was part of it, too - getting burned.
Another layer.
She had misjudged
the amount of the spicy condiment in the dim room. She
hadn't turned on the
lights and she had left the heavy drapes drawn tightly over
the picture window. The only light was the eerie glow from the globe that
sat across the room, where her television had once been. It was her hope and her curse. It was Angel's soul. Layers.
**********
The only other thing
in the room, in the whole apartment, was a small end
table with a
telephone. She knew that she should make the call. That was the reason
she had the phone installed, after all. Even if she hadn't known it, she
knew.
It was that instinct
that had made her come back here to start with. She had
wandered back here a
couple of weeks ago, just after she had returned, right after
she had regained her memory, when she was still trying to come to terms with who she was now, what it all meant, why she was
back. She was searching,
and this is what she had found.
She couldn't think
when she was around Connor, in his space. Sometimes,
that's why she
stayed. He consumed her, smothered her. She was Queen C, the prize
in the chess game between father and son. Two men who loved her. One she
couldn't love, the other she shouldn't, but did.
She had walked till
her feet hurt almost as much as her heart and her mind
was almost as numb.
It had brought her here.
The only things here
were the memories, like shadows fading as she walked
down the hall,
seeing things as they were, as they are. Layer upon layer, all jumbled and mixed and juxtaposed, they were like her
memories of Angel, Angelus...
Photographs in her
mind, wispy shadows and faded prayers. The hottie who was
Buffy's boyfriend
... the elusive brooding vamp ... Angelus in Sunnydale ... the
man who saved her and became her friend ... the man she fell in love with ... the monster who had wrecked havoc for almost two
centuries ... the man
she gave up paradise for ... the man she couldn't have ... the man she
betrayed ... the man
she loved ... the monster he became ... the monster, the
man. The past, the present. No future.
Apparently Dennis
was up to his ghostly tricks, scaring off prospective
tenants, because the
apartment was still empty, but for her memories. She had
barely laid her hand upon the door when it had swung open for her.
"Hello,
Dennis," were the first words she had spoken since leaving the hotel
and the last she had
spoken all that night. She slept on the cold floor, no pillows,
no blankets, and no comfort.
The landlord had
seemed relieved the next morning when she had explained her
the family emergency
that had kept her away and asked to re-rent the apartment. She was the only one who had ever managed to live
there for any length
of time.
She had a little bit
of money saved from before she left. She had learned to
live frugally. It
was her salvation, her security. If her parents losing everything hadn't taught her that lesson, getting fired by
Angel had. She scrimped
and saved, putting everything she could in her small account. She
kept up the facade
and learned how to keep up her image, while planning for the
future, whatever it held.
Apparently, this was
it - the moment of her own making. Forever and ever,
amen. Nothing to do,
but to sit and wait. Wait for him to come for her.
**********
Angelus
had bided his time, playing, toying with them. He would drop cryptic
hints and watch them
scurry like rats in a maze to figure them out. It turned out that Angelus had helped to slaughter the Bosh M'ad
all those years
ago. That had been the massacre she had seen.
He hadn't been an
ally of The Beast, not really. Though he had been
intrigued by the
idea of apocalyptic perpetual darkness, he wasn't going to be
second to anyone, not even a demon who could blot out the sun. Angelus had led them to the sword, but they had been unsure of what
to do next. Angel
was the only one among them who stood a chance, and he was gone.
Connor hated being
told he was second to Angel in anything and had stormed out
when they wouldn't give him the sword.
They had learned
eventually, that during the massacre, one of the priests
had survived long
enough to open a portal while the demon battled with Angelus. Angelus had pierced The Beast with a sword and
pushed him through the
portal. The sword had been coated with blood from Angelus' own wounds,
forming a bond with
the demon.
The beast had grown
strong and the blood of Connor's birth, supernatural and
strong, containing
part of Angel's own had been the catalyst to allow him to return
to this world. It also explained Conner's connection to the beast. Part
of his father flowed through his veins. Another layer.
Angelus was more
open to this connection than his souled alter-ego. It
allowed him to track
The Beast, even as it tracked him. It was probably what had
allowed him to defeat it as well. The sun had risen brightly this morning, signalling that daylight had returned, and she knew
that it meant that
her own time was running out.
She rose and took
the remains of her lunch into the kitchen, her appetite
faded by the
knowledge. She opened the refrigerator and pushed aside the bottled water to reach for the only other thing in the
fridge, a half empty bottle
of cheap wine.
She dumped the
crushed ice and syrupy remains of her diet soda down the
drain and rinsed out
the styrofoam cup she had bought with her lunch. She added
fresh ice from the automatic icemaker in the otherwise empty freezer and
poured the deep red wine over it. It was a far cry from the elegant stemware and expensive libations of her upbringing. It had
neither culture, nor
class, but it was tolerably palatable when it was cold.
"Dutch
courage," as the acrid crimson liquid slipped past her tongue. She
licked a few stray
drops from her lips as another memory swelled up from her childhood.
Little girls in frilly white dresses and diaphanous wedding veils. "This is my body. This is my blood."
A trembling bride as
she waited for her bridegroom to join her in unholy
matrimony. She knew
her would come. Her body. Her blood. Her time running out as the sun slipped beneath the silk sheets of night.
She was no blushing
virgin, a fact that Angelus knew too well. She had seen
it in his eyes as he
held Fred's life in his hands. He had looked into her eyes
and sniffed deeply of the young physicist. He had smiled at her, not Gunn, as he had snapped Fred's delicate neck.
He laughed, as Gunn
rushed him with the axe to avenge his lover, and
sidestepped the
blade. It fell between the bars harmlessly. Angelus reached for
the shaft and pulled Gunn off-balance toward the cage. She remembered that
Gunn still had the keys in his pocket from when he had fed Angelus earlier that day. She grabbed the globe and left as quickly
as she could. Angelus'
laughter rang in her ears, as she left her friend to his fate.
She could have
stayed and fought, tried to save him, but they didn't
understand. None of
them did. She was what stood between Angelus and the rest
of the world. He would come for her, and if she couldn't stop him, then nothing
could. She had promised him long ago, on the rooftop of Angel Investigations, not to let that happen.
That was why she
should be making her phone call, why she should be warning
Giles and Buffy and
Willow, and it was why she didn't. This was her job, her mission
and God help them all if she failed.
She didn't pray
anymore. She had stopped going to church a long time ago and
wasn't even sure if
she believed in God. How could she, a demon, a former higher being herself, who fought evil on a daily basis? But,
as she closed her
eyes and remembered the pleading look Fred had given her right before
the light faded from
her eyes, another remnant of her childhood formed on her
lips, mixed with the bitter wine.
"Holy Mary,
Mother of God..."
She wondered if
there was anyone to hear her prayer. Maybe she was cursed.
She had seen an
episode of the X-Files once where this guy had incredibly good
luck, but all around him people died in horrible freak accidents, their luck
run out. Her luck seemed nothing but bad, but the rest was true enough.
Or maybe when Angel
had saved her, so long ago, she took someone else's portion of luck. Maybe Fred's.
There was such
innocence in Fred's soul, a soul that was now gone to
wherever it would
go, freed by Angelus' hands in the moment he broke her neck.
She knew because she had touched it once. Connor wasn't the first she had
reached out to for comfort, to make sense of a world in which there seemed no reason, an anchor in storm-tossed seas. That was
her weakness. This
was her penance.
Two years ago when
they had returned from Pylea, she had come home to the
news of Buffy's
death and the knowledge that her visions, her connection to
The Powers that Be,
her purpose, could be taken away from her. All that she fought
for, had become, could be lost to her and when it was gone, her life, her
death would be meaningless. Buffy had died, once again saving the world, but
what had she done? What affect had she truly had on all the pain and suffering and evil she had felt in her non-stop vision the
year before?
The shy, young girl
who had suffered for years in Pylea, who had risked
everything to save
her, was even more lost than she. Their captors had made her
a princess, royalty, but had tortured and treated the other girl worse than
an animal. She would have liked to believe that it was kindness that caused her to turn to Fred, but even that was selfishness.
She needed to feel
connected, to feel something real. Maybe if she could give comfort and
kindness to the
other woman, then she could find it for herself.
She had reached out
to brush taco sauce from the shy brunette's cheek and
heard the sharp
intake of breath, saw the wild eyes that darted, looking for escape,
even as they begged for comfort. She had answered by leaning over the
food on the floor between them and gently pressed her lips to Fred's. She
leaned back and looked at her skittish companion, watching, waiting. When
Fred had tentatively raised her hand to Cordelia's face, the seer smiled reassuringly and placed her hand over Fred's. She
stood and led the other
girl over to the bed.
She had experimented
a bit in high school, but had never really made love to
another woman.
Still, she figured that she had more experience than Fred, who
sat stiffly on the side of the bed. She took the lead.
Cordelia continued
to hold Fred's hand and used her other to brush the wispy
curtain of hair back
from the other girl's face, coming to rest on the back of
her head. Fred smiled and Cordelia gently pulled the other girl forward
and kissed her
again. This time, Fred's lips parted under hers and their tongues
met. One shy, one bold, they explored.
Fred began to relax
and reached out to tentatively caress Cordelia's flat
stomach and cup her
full breast. Cordelia took this as invitation to continue and slid her hand under Fred's blouse. The smaller
girl wore no bra and
Cordelia brushed her thumb over a semi-erect nipple. It hardened at her
touch and Fred
arched into her touch.
They finally
released each other's hand and Cordelia pulled her lover's
shirt up over her
head. Fred tried to cover her naked chest, folding her arms around herself and ducking her head down, shyly.
Cordelia reached out and
lifted the other girl's chin, smiling reassuringly at her. She lifted
Fred's hands from
around her and brought them to her lips. Smooth as silk, with the scent of baby powder and anti-bacterial soap, she
brought them to her
lips, never breaking eye contact with the timid, young woman as she
placed the softest
of kisses across her knuckles. She kept their hands entwined and lowered them to the bed. She gazed upon the
woman who sat so close
and whispered reverently, "You're beautiful."
Fred blushed and
lifted her hands. Cordelia let her go and was rewarded when
Fred reached for her
shirt, baring her, as she herself was bared. They kissed and explored for what seemed like hours. They were
wrapped around each
other on the bed, legs entwined, hands and lips a blur of sensation,
when Cordelia
decided to up the ante. She lifted her thigh between Fred's legs
and pressed it into her sex. She flexed and released the muscles of her leg
in a rhythmic massage until Fred was writhing against her, bucking her hips and humping her leg.
Then she reached for
the waistband of Fred's shorts, the heat flowing
between them like a
brand as she pulled them down, panties and all. She didn't
let up, giving the serious young woman no time to think as she pushed her
fingers into her damp, dark curls. She rubbed against Fred's swollen clit
and pressed against her, capturing gasps and moans with her lips, absorbing
them into herself.
She slid her fingers
down Fred's damp slit and plunged two of them inside
her tight passage.
She curved them upwards and brushed her thumb back over her
clit. Cordelia felt her climax against her hand, clamping down rhythmically against her fingers, crying out in bliss. The
sights, sounds and
scents of pleasure filled the air. Cordelia coaxed her over the waves of
bliss, and then sat
up to remove the rest of her own clothing.
Fred reached for her
and began to suckle her breast. She sucked deeply and
ran her tongue in
circles around the hardened nub, while her hand massaged the other. Cordelia moaned and pressed against her. Fred bit
down gently and felt
Cordy arch her hips in need. Seeing and hearing the other woman's
response allowed her
to grow bolder, and she reached for Cordelia's mound. She pressed against it with the palm of her hand while
continuing to tease her
breasts.
She parted the lips
of Cordelia's sex with the tip of her finger, while
raising her head to
meet Cordy's eyes. Fred watched, entranced and began to stroke
her, moving her finger round and round in the wetness, circling Cordelia's clit. She added another finger and used the pads
of her slick fingers
to press against the little bundle of nerves in tight circles, like
she sometimes did
when she touched herself. Cordelia reached for her. With one
hand she pulled Fred to her for a deep kiss; with the other, she guided Fred's
fingers down and roughly pushed them inside of her. She cried out against
Fred's lips, grasping at her, as she rode out her climax.
Slowly, she released
her, but kept her close, knowing instinctively that the
contact was
important. Fred fell asleep in her arms. Cordelia held her, drifting
in and out herself, until the young physicist awoke. She brushed the
girl's hair back from her face, placed a chaste kiss on her forehead and then
got up and dressed.
She smiled at Fred,
who held the sheet modestly against her thin body. "I'll
see you tomorrow.
Maybe we can play chess again." Fred smiled nervously and Cordelia
shut the door behind her.
They had never
talked about what happened, and Cordelia had felt a little
guilty, but Fred
began to open up a bit more and even ventured out of her room soon after. Fred trusted her. Or at least she had, right
up to the moment
that she had let Angelus kill her.
"Pray for us
sinners, now and at the hour of our death."
**********
It was sunset. She could
feel it; it was almost time. She wondered for a moment if he would need an invitation, but no one
else had lived here since her, and he had previously been invited. She was
also a demon now, and she knew that Angel could freely enter the homes of other
demons. She hoped that she would be strong enough to issue the invite if
needed.
She sat back down on
the floor with her wine and waited, giving passing thought to Connor, Wesley and Lorne. She hoped
Connor had been smart enough to hide and Lorne's precognitive talents had led
him to do the same, but somehow she doubted it. As for Wesley... Well, she
hoped the end was quick for him.
Yea, though I walk
through the valley of the shadow of death.
The door swung off its
hinges and came crashing in. Angelus stepped through. "Honey, I'm home!" he said in a
singsong voice.
"Well, that
answers that question," she mumbled under her breath.
He came after her and
the phone went flying upside his head, as Dennis tried to defend her. He growled and his face shifted to
that of his demon.
"Now, is that
anyway to say hello?" he ranted as he continued to stalk her around the living room. He cut off any escape she
tried to make, toying with her. "You work hard all day, and just want
to come home to a nice, hot meal. Is that too much to ask?"
He finally grabbed for
her, and she fought back with all of her strength, but a strong backhand sent her sprawling across
the floor. He pinned her there, lying on top of her, his thighs across hers and
her hands grasped in one of his over her head. They were pressed intimately
together. He caressed her face like a love, but the sneering smile on his
face belied his tenderness.
The swirling light
across the room drew his attention. "Is that the soul? Now, what did you think you were going to do with
that?"
I shall fear no evil.
"Well, that's ok.
I'll take care of that for you, later. In the meantime... " He looked down at the brunette beauty
below him and smiled wickedly.
He leaned in and
sniffed her deeply, just like he had Fred. She knew that he could smell her arousal and her fear.
He jerked on the front
of her shirt and ripped it open. He squeezed her breast roughly, and she responded, despite her
fear, to the monster that wore her lover's face.
"You'll give it
up for anyone, won't you? Connor, Fred, anyone except the man you love," he drawled the last word
sarcastically and then laughed. "Kind of ironic, though, how that is the one
thing that set me free. He got all happy thinking about finally getting into
your pants. He always was a sucker for a good fuck. Maybe I should do you
both a favor and find out what he was missing before I kill you. It's only fair,
don't you think?"
She could only
whimper, not sure if she wanted him to fulfill his threat or not. Confusion, fear, need... her angel with the
face of a devil.
He laughed again and
leaned down to run his tongue roughly from between her breasts, over her collarbone, up her neck. He
spoke softly, directly into her ear. "Then again, maybe not. After all,
I've seen you in action... Places to go, people to kill and all that. You
understand."
Deliver us from evil.
He sunk his fangs into
her neck. Cordelia could feel him draining her life from her. She closed her eyes and remembered: her
life; his life; everything that brought them to this point; everything that
she had learned. She began to glow.
Light spread out from
her body, enveloping them both. It spread out, illuminating the whole room. He held on, his
hands digging painfully into her arms as he fought the pain, drinking through
it, trying to drain her. He still fed as the light extended further, until it
reached the globe across the room, the one that held his soul. There was a
bright flash and Angelus lifted up his head and screamed.
One thing after
another, layer upon layer.
Forever and ever,
Amen.
End.
Contact Syrenslure