Between the Teeth of Lions: Part Three: The Champion

[jesterladyfic]

Angel’s really excited. Things are finally looking up after the disastrous last few weeks with Darla and her second dusting and people tearing the world apart for his son. But Connor’s safe, as safe as the son of a vampire detective can be, and today’s Cordelia’s birthday.

He’s been planning this with everyone for awhile and he wants more than anything to give Cordelia something more than the life she’s chosen here with him. He can’t take the pain of her visions away or her lack of a life outside of him, but he can give her honor and cake and a present. He’d spent a long time finding it and he hopes so desperately that she’ll like it.

She comes out of the bathroom and her face lights up with surprise and joy and he can ignore how haggard she looks for a minute.

“I-I got you something,” he says and he loves the happiness on her face and the way she looks when she’s holding Connor.

Somehow he can’t picture anyone else holding his son and looking that right.

They’re interrupted by the others with presents and he has to roll his eyes at Cordelia’s words when she tells him to take the baby.

“You’re choosing birthday gifts over my son?”

“Take the baby. Take the baby!” she cries and he grabs his son as Cordelia mumbles something about a girl and then convulses and convulses and falls to the floor and doesn’t wake up.

Angel thrusts his baby into Wesley’s arms and holds Cordelia trying to wake her, fearing the worst. It can’t be, it can’t be. He won’t let it be.

But she’s breathing. Her heart’s beating. He would sigh in relief if he could

“Angel, is she…?” Wesley asks tightly.

“No!” Angel snaps.

He and Gunn carry her over to the couch and lay her down gently. She looks smaller than he’s ever seen her before.

He’s worried because she must have had a vision. She said something about a girl. They’re interrupted by Lorne’s entrance.
"Maybe we should get her to a hospital,” Gunn says.

Angel almost clutches her to him possessively. He doesn’t like Cordelia in hospitals. He’ll never forget how utterly furious it had made him to see her there last time, eyes open and staring at some unseen horror, tears rolling down her cheeks.

"So they can do what? Do what they did last time, strap her to a bed and tell us there's no hope?”

Fred’s discovery of the Seltrax medication does nothing to alleviate the bands of fear tightening around his shriveled heart. It only worsens them. Cordelia’s obviously hiding something. Something big.

And then Lorne confirms that this is a mystical problem. But Angel still isn’t going to take anything for granted. He will cover every angle possible with everything in his power.

“That's what I'm saying,” Fred argues. “There is so much we don't know. If Cordelia is taking a drug this powerful in secret, the visions are probably doing a lot more damage than she lets on."

That’s what Angel fears and that’s why anger is slowly tingeing his worry with red.

"This last one must have overloaded her."

"Don't say last! Okay? She'll come out of this. She has to,” Angel snaps at Gunn again.

Why is the man saying such stupid things? Angel doesn’t want to hear about anything that might involve Cordelia being taken away from him.

But it doesn’t matter because right now they’re going to do something. He starts issuing orders, trying to cover all the bases. He sends Fred and Gunn over to Cordelia’s to find out what she may have been hiding. He sends Wesley into his books to cover the mystical angle. Lorne takes care of Connor for him and he carries Cordelia upstairs holding her to him as gently as he can. He puts her in his bed and then sits here.

He’s thinking so many different thoughts. About how much has changed since he met her and how much she means to him. About how angry he is with her.

He holds her hand and hopes desperately that she will be restored to him.

His phone rings and he answers it almost absently.

It’s Fred and she confirms his worst fears.

“Angel, we found MRIs and CAT scans. Over a year old. There’s a lot of other migraine medication too. Dennis helped us find it. It’s…serious, Angel.”

“Thanks,” he says. “Come on home.”

He doesn’t trust himself to say anymore. He keeps a tight hold of Cordelia’s hand and wishes she was there so he could shake some sense into her.

"Cordy…look, I know that you can't hear me, but there is something I have to say. You really piss me off, you know that? I thought we trusted each other. But you've been lying. MRIs and CAT scans? It's been going on for over a year. Why couldn't you let me in? I could have helped you. You make me so furious."

He’s hurt. So very hurt. How could she do this to him after everything they’ve been through together? He’s put her through so much and now she’s taking after him more than he’d like because she’s hiding her misery and soldiering on anyway. It’s admirable in one way, but downright detestable as to how much of a lack of trust in him it shows. And he just wants to be able to tell her so.

Lorne comes in and tries to contact her, but there’s nothing there. Nothing to show Cordelia Chase lives in that body.

The slow rage that’s been building in him overflows and he gets right into Lorne’s face.

"No. This isn't gonna happen. I don't care how many favors you have to call in. I don't care how many gods you have to cross. You have a connection to the Powers That Be and you're gonna find me a way to talk to them. Understand?"

"A-angel honey, it-it's not that easy. I mean, contacting the Powers is a muddy, not to mention dangerous, area. But this is a- this is a bit much to ask."

“I’m not asking.”

Angel doesn’t care. Not at all. In this moment he’d sacrifice anything except any more of his people to get Cordelia back. Lorne will be fine, he just has to use his demonic know-how and they’d get to the Powers and they’d heal her and it would all be fine.

He’s exhausted with fear and worry and anger but he refuses to leave her side, so he sits there and thinks about Cordelia and her smile when she gets the better of him and the way she obsesses over the books and the endless shopping trips she takes with his credit card and the ruthless determination she shows when she’s training with him and the beautiful picture she makes when she’s holding his son. He’s so petrified of losing all of those special things.

He doesn’t know how he falls asleep but he dreams of Cordelia. She’s there in the room with him and trying to tell him something. She’s so close like she’s inside his mind and he feels like she’s directing him somewhere. Then there’s a jolt and he’s on the floor with the distinct lack of any Cordelia and a lingering sense of something important.

He’s disoriented and he tells Wesley about his dream but there’s nothing solid there. Instead Wesley informs him that the deterioration showing in Cordelia’s scans show she’s dying even without her mystical coma.

When Wesley takes over watcher duties Angel doesn’t go rest like he’s supposed to, he goes downstairs and goes over the scans himself, inwardly cursing at his helplessness and Cordelia’s stubbornness.

When Lorne gets back, horn torn and bloody and bruised, he feels a stab of guilt, but he can’t bring himself to act on it now because he’s too worried about Cordelia and frustrated that Lorne can’t even speak about it.

He rushes off to the mystical coordinates and gets thrown into a pit with fire and sand.

He screams his indignation and anger to the void and only voices come back to him.

"I'm not going anywhere until I get my message to the Powers That Be. My friend Cordelia has visions given to her by the Powers. They're killing her. I want the Powers to take them back. Let her go. She's suffered enough!"

Then he's flying across the room, smashing into the walls. And that's the fun part of his day.

They don’t care about her, they don’t care about him, they don’t care about anything but their precious Conduit and how they rule the world. Well, fine, he’ll speak to them in language they can understand, about how this is affecting their path for him.

"The visions are too much. She's not strong enough to handle them."

"Obstinate. It speaks and does not listen."

He yells even louder.

"No, you're not listening! Cordelia is not a champion. She is a rich girl from Sunnydale who likes to play superhero. She doesn't have what it takes to do this! Don't the Powers get that? Stop whispering and listen to me! She's weak.” He pauses and speaks softly, full to the brim with sorrow. “You're killing her. She’s unconscious and she’s alone. Who knows if she's in pain?"

"It is angry. It is afraid."

"I'm more afraid of her dying than she is. What is that?"

Angel can't analyze his thoughts. Suddenly they're too raw, too personal, to reality changing for him to handle. Not that he gets the chance to.

“Enough!”

He’s ejected from the Conduit’s presence and he stands outside yelling for two hours before he finally goes home, more to check on Cordelia than because he’s given up.

He’ll never give up. Not till he’s dust.

There’s no change at the hotel. Wesley’s still feverishly looking for options in his books while Fred’s finishing patching up Lorne while Gunn watches over Cordelia and Connor. Angel puts a hand on Lorne’s shoulder in apology before rushing upstairs and relieving Gunn.

The minute Angel sits down everything starts to whirl and he just catches a glimpse of Cordelia’s still face before everything becomes dark and confused and alone.

He’s sitting in his room like he always is and he has no concept of time. Time is bad. Time means more kills. Time means people hurt. He’s gotta save them, gotta save them, gotta save them.

But dead…they’re dead. He’s not right. He didn’t save them. Doyle…gone. One seven one. One seven one. He’ll save this one. A girl. A girl. She’s eaten.

No chains. No chains today. His wrists are red, red, red. Blood. Where was blood? He needs blood. But blood is bad. So much blood, the girl’s blood. Buffy was blood. Stay away. Stay away. Bad soul, keep the soul, don’t hurt the girl. She’s being eaten.

One seven one. One seven one. Wesley save one seven one. Wesley save one seven one.

There’s a light and he shies away from it. Light bad, light burns. But the wall's there and he uses it, doesn’t look at her.

Who is she?

"No, I'm afraid. I'm afraid. I'm afraid."

"Shh. Don't be afraid. I won't hurt you."

"I'm fine. Fine. One seven one. One seven one. You'll see. You'll see, one seven one. My head doesn't hurt. My head doesn't hurt. Now I'm warm. My head doesn't hurt."

"You don't remember me, do you?"

"I was there. I wanted to die. But-but I was-was afraid to die. So afraid to die. One seven one."

"Shh, Angel, it's okay. Everything is gonna be okay."

She’s close. Shouldn’t be close. Hurt her. Don’t hurt her. She’s right, so right, what he needs. He was wrong. One seven one.

"It was my fault. I was there. I couldn't do anything. There was nothing I could do."

"Everything is gonna be okay."

Close. So close. Lips on his, lips on his, and there’s blue and light and he stops.

And Angel lifts his head, wondering why he’s crouched over his empty bed like he’s mourning something.

He has a feeling something important is missing, but he has no idea what. Did he miss something in one of his visions? He does that. He has a hard time always distinguishing reality from his visions.

Wesley came back from Reseda and said he saved the girl, didn’t he? Yes, no, yes.

Angel shakes his head. He can’t slip back into madness. No madness, it’s not allowed.

Something’s changed, he’s sure of it. Wasn’t he at Wesley’s before? Now he’s in the Hyperion. Yes, his hotel. They help the helpless. They have cards. With…weird images on them and there’s brown hair swimming in his vision.

“Angel, are you okay?” Wesley asks, poking his head in the door.

Wesley doesn’t leave him alone very much. Angel isn’t locked up, but he’s never alone.

“Wesley, you saved that girl, right?”

“I did. She’s fine,” Wesley says, speaking carefully.

“But something’s not right.”

“Are you having another vision?”

“No, no, but I shouldn’t have them. No, no, I should, I just didn’t before.”

“Yes, Doyle had them, remember?”

“Not Doyle,” Angel says, shoving away that painful memory. “No, who’s the girl?”

“The girl from your vision?”

“No, no, she had brown hair. I knew her, I knew her. She was…”

Angel loses his train of thought and Wesley sighs, bringing in some blood for him in a mug.

Angel takes it into the other room and swears he smells cinnamon somewhere.

“Where’s my son?” he calls to Wesley.

Wesley comes closer.

“Angel, you don’t have a son.”

“No, I do. Darla, she…”

Angel drinks his blood and gives the mug back to Wesley and heads downstairs to look at the books. Maybe the girl was there.

He hears Gunn and Wesley whispering about him, about how they might need to protect him from himself again.

“He was doing so well for awhile,” Wesley says, sounding worried. “He’d been almost rational.”

“Feel a bit out of it myself,” Gunn replies.

“Oddly, I also feel this strange sense of missing something,” Wesley says. “I don’t know, maybe he’s onto something and he just doesn’t have enough rationality to put it together.”

“I’m rational,” Angel says loudly. “I am, Wes. I just forgot her. And we have to remember her. Just find something for our memories, Wes, please.”

Wesley looks at him sadly then picks up some of his books.

“What am I looking for?”

“Don’t patronize me,” Angel snaps, then feels bad. “Sorry, I just…I know I’m right. Don’t ask me how I know.”

“Maybe you are,” Wesley says. “But you have to tell me what to look for.”

“A girl, working with us. She had brown hair. Didn’t we know her before? She was…she was in Sunnydale.”

Wesley exchanges glances with Gunn. They’re doubting his sanity again.

“Angel, the only girls in Sunnydale were Buffy and Willow. Unless you mean…unless you mean Faith.”

The ex-Watcher’s emotions are evident in his voice but Angel dismisses the idea.

“Not Faith. She’s different. She’s in plays. No, she was. She’s really bad at it. But she fooled me once. There was a ghost who liked her. And she was mad at me for firing her. And she held my son and she talked to me like I was real.”

“Angel, I…don’t know what to tell you.”

“Just can’t you look and see if something’s been done to our memories?”

“I can run some tests,” Wesley says. “Just let me work on it, okay? But can we agree that if you have a vision that it will take precedence over this research?”

Angel reluctantly agrees and accepts Gunn’s offer to spar in the basement.

Except he never used to spar with Gunn in the basement. No, someone else worked with him there. And she was hard-working and she’d punched him once. And he was just so angry, if only he could remember properly.

It takes Wesley three days before he can come up with something he’ll pronounce safe. Angel’s been growing more and more agitated, less and less rational. But finally he and Wesley and Gunn sit on the floor in the lobby and Wesley performs a memory spell on them.

The lights spark and fade as if being drained and watching them flicker, Angel suddenly remembers. He remembers Sunnydale with a drama queen drooling over Wesley. He remembers coming to LA and being happy to see her at a party, rescuing her from vampires. He remembers her making him charge for his services. He remembers Doyle traipsing after her and her reluctant admission of feelings for him. And the visions, how she fought them so hard at first until she’d gotten marked and been in the hospital and seen how much hurt there was.

He remembered them moving into the hotel and her chastisement over his obsession with Darla and her hurt and anger when he fired them and her refusal to accept him back into their lives until he’d bought her clothes. He remembered her being sucked into Pylea and being a princess and him being desperate to save her.

And they’d come back and she’d comforted him after Buffy’s death and bolstered him when Darla had been pregnant and she’d helped him with Connor and she’d been lying about her health and she’d fallen into a coma and hadn’t she kissed him?

Cordelia Chase.

But where was she? She was just gone, erased from their lives. And now Fred wasn’t there because they’d never gone to Pylea and he’d never slept with Darla and Connor wasn’t alive and they barely ever spoke to Lorne and Wesley was missing an arm when he wasn’t supposed to.

It was all wrong. Everything without Cordelia was wrong.

“Do you remember?” he asks the other men frantically.

“Cordelia,” Wesley says, nodding. “Oh, Fred.”

“How do we fix this?” Gunn asks.

“We need to speak to the Powers,” Angel says. “They obviously did something. But what?”

He’s a lot more clear thinking now that he remembers what should have happened, but the visions are still so fresh in his head and the guilt of centuries and Cordelia wasn’t there to snap him out of it.

“Let’s go see the Host,” Wesley suggests.

So they troop off to Caritas and the instant the demon sees them, he whistles.

“What magic you been messing with, cupcakes?”

“Do you remember Cordelia Chase?” Angel asks.

“Cordelia who? Angel strudel, I need a bit more than a name. I need a tune, but I know you don’t carry any.”

“But you came and you gave without taking, because you took me away, oh, Mandy,” Angel sings immediately, the first and nearest song to his heart.

Lorne steps back as if physically repelled.

“Hold on there, my little porkchop. No more, please. That is one potent destiny awry. Okay, you need to get our little Cordelia back along with Fredikins and the munchkin.”

“You remembered just from that?” Gunn asked incredulously.

“Our boy here is carrying quite the memory torch, if you get my drift,” Lorne says, winking at them. “Now, got some good news and some bad news. The good news is Cordelia’s not gone. I can sense her destiny is still strong, it’s just not where it’s supposed to be. The bad news is I can’t sense her. Who she’s supposed to be is entangled with something else that I can’t see.”

“What can we do?” Angel asks.

“Summon her essence perhaps?” Wesley muses.

“I like it, but if I could add one or two teensy suggestions?” Lorne asks. “After my set.”

“Now!” Angel grounds out.

Lorne looks at him and then walks off mumbling something about re-grown horns.

Angel isn’t thinking about that. He’s simply too anxious. Now that he knows what he’s missing he’s anxious to get it back. He needs Cordelia. He wants his son. He has to save Fred.

They go back to the hotel and Lorne and Wesley start arranging things. Angel only catches every other phrase or so in his agitated state.

“A demon?” Wesley says sharply.

“…essence trapped,” Lorne says.

“…for a fact?”

“…destiny…visions…two realities…”

“How can we do it without…previous…reality…unhinged…protect the body.”

Angel tunes them out because he can’t concentrate.

“You feeling okay, man?” Gunn asks. “You’re not going wacky again, are you?”

“I just need her back,” Angel says and then goes where Wesley directs.

They end up in Angel’s room, hours later, the last place any of them remember seeing Cordelia.

Wesley lights a few candles and sprinkles some incense and paints a few symbols on the wall.

He grabs a book, but mostly reads from a scrap of paper that Lorne’s been scribbling on.

“This could be dangerous,” Wesley says.

“Not if it brings her back,” Angel says clearly.

Wesley looks him right in the eyes and smiles.

“I know.”

There’s a flashing light and Wesley starts chanting. The candles flare up and Angel starts to see the outline of a body on the bed. It’s her, it’s her, it’s her. But there’s the sound of a woman screaming and Lorne grabs Wesley’s arm and shouts in his ear, but Angel can’t hear over the screaming and the wind that’s magically rushing around the room. His eyes can’t adjust to the blinding light and he blinks and when he opens his eyes again, there are stars. There’s a body on the bed and it looks like the solid body of Cordelia Chase. But she’s not wearing the sweatshirt she was the last time he saw her. She’s in a dress and her hair is long and darker and he’s actually missed her long hair.

Then he realizes that she’s screaming uncontrollably.