CHAPTER SIX

He looked at the watch on his wrist, and he frowned.

Angel gave a needless sigh, standing up and looking out the window, eyes dark and haunted.

The man at the chair seemed lifeless, head down, his body heaving up and down.

The bruise on his face gave a clear indication of exactly how Angel had jogged his memory.

At the moment, Angel didn't care if he was brutal or not.

Something was wrong.

Hands clasped together, his fingers ran over the palm of the other hand, feeling the rough coarseness, the warmth underneath his touch.

It had been so long since he had been anything but cold.

Two hundred years of repentance and anger. Of murder and loss. Of anger and rifts.

Of love and loss.

For a strange, indiscernible reason, Angel felt as if everything he had been fighting for and against had come to a head.

For so many years, the little band of do gooders had fought against every demon known to men. They had known friends and lost them, in the end it had always come down to three.

A demon, a vampire, and a cheerleader that had kept them so very human.

It was a crossroads now, that seemed impossible to define. He was warm, she was colder. Doyle's eyes were clouded over and the worry and loneliness told Angel that in this arrangement, Doyle had gotten the short end of the stick.

For a brief moment Angel wondered what would have happened if Cordelia had ever truly fallen in love with Doyle, and not him.

Kate's grim smile of sadness flickered through his memory, Buffy's tortured look of helplessness as he fought for his soul, Xander's look of loss as he looked at Cordelia.

Cordelia's closed face as he had held in her in that circle, body covered in blood, HIS blood.

The glow of her eyes, the heightened heartbeat.

The fear.

It had taken years to come to terms with him and his demon, to distinguish between one and the other, to learn to live with both, for even as the soul stayed intact, the darkness drifted, and Angel had felt it dangerously closer and closer.

It yearned for what he had, it yearned for the contentment, to possess what he had spent so many years learning to care for.

It yearned for Cordelia, for the darkness that had slid in her. He had been split and the darkness wanted it back.

Oh, God.

Angel licked his lips, feeling the knot in his stomach tightened as he turned, reaching for the trenchcoat, grabbing the knife, turning toward the man who had almost killed his fiancé.

Windel groaned, and Angel's eyes narrowed,  as the dark haired head came up and saw the demon of Angel surface.

The mortal's breath quickened and the place smelled of cowardice and fear.

Angel had always despised men with guns. Men who relied too easily on the weapons of destruction showed no true merit. A gun was not a weapon, a gun was a safety net.

One that could too easily be taken again.

"Go ahead," Windel whispered. "Kill me now. See if I care."

Angel didn't say a word, letting the tension build as he bent down, took the hand of the man and roughly pushed it up against his mouth, feeling the pulse of the blood against his lips.

He growled, feeling the desire in him surge for the living blood, felt his body pulse along with it as it increased, as tears of fear sprang into Windel's eyes, as the coward whimpered.

He let his teeth graze it slightly before narrowing his eyes. "Dirt like you was never worth the kill," he growled, and suddenly he jerked the hand down, felt Wendell cry out in pain, and with two quick jerks, cut the ropes that bound him.

The blood that slid from the harmless gash on Windel's shoulder had a certain savor to a it, a sting that he could smell as Windel fell backwards,  pushing himself back, letting the blood fall.

"Get out of here before I change my mind."

Angel merely stood, watching as Windel never turned, fearful to leave his back exposed in case Angel was the same kind of man he was.

Angel merely smirked, sliding on his black jacket, eyes drifting out the window to the setting sun.

His hand reached for the cell phone, and suddenly the phone vibrated, making his eyes drift down in surprise, taking it and turning it on.

"Angel."

The static made it impossible to understand anything that Doyle said, and with a sigh of disgust, Angel could do nothing more than snap the phone shut and follow Windel.

~*~

Kate and Willow barricaded the door, Doyle hurriedly talked into the cellphone, but Cordelia sat, her face closed, hazel eyes filled with resignation and seemingly little else.

"Cordelia!" Kate's forehead was beaded with sweat, as she turned to glare at her friend. "A little help here!"

Cordelia pursed her lips, shrugging as she slid down, her voice so calm and void of emotion it made them all still. "What's the difference? They'll just keep coming."

"The difference is, Princess, I feel like livin' to see tomorrow!"

"You are."

"CIA! OPEN UP!"

The pounding in Cordelia's heart was the only thing that seemed human to her. Her body seemed foreign, the emotions, the feeling, and the lack of response reminded her entirely of someone else, someone who's anger she had inherited.

Because she growled, she placed her hands on the life that was forming inside of her and she felt the change inside of her as her eyes glowed and she marched to the door and with a burst of strength that was not human ripped Kate and Willow from the door and kicked it forward.

The door burst forward, knocking the agents out, feeling the place with fog and gas that seemed to affect everyone but her.

Willow's tearing eyes met hers and when Cordelia raised one single eyebrow, suddenly the witch understood.

Latin words burst from her mouth and Kate and Doyle and herself could miraculously breathe, while Cordelia alone stood, taking in the scene in silence.

"Get out."

"Cordelia-"

"Find me," she clipped, and in the haze of confusion she grabbed Kate and Willow and shoved them out the door, stumbling in the opposite direction of the cops, Doyle soon following.

And she stayed, walking toward the agents, the smoke filling the hallway.

Kate's heart was hammering with fear, her eyes wide with bewildered anxiety as she looked back at Cordelia, drifting into the fog, Willow pulling at her.

"We can't leave her there-"

"We're NOT!" Willow answered harriedly, pulling at Doyle, arms straining as she tried to keep the half demon from going after the former May Queen. "Kate help me!"

"With WHAT?!" Kate's confusion was evident as she automatically grabbed Doyle, the man straining against them.

"We have to go."

"NOT without Cordy!"

"Yes without Cordy! We have to follow her!"

Shots rang out and survival instincts took over, as Doyle cried out and Kate and Willow ran, taking him with them.

Chaos was surrounding them, and it was so heavily blanketed over their souls it took all of Kate's energy not panic.

They slid into an empty closet, hands shutting the door behind them as they panted, looking towards each other with mutual glances of  desperation.

What the hell had just happened?

~*~

As the smog cleared, the agents coughed, handkerchiefs on their faces, guns waving around wildly, the chaos in the air so tangible it took the most experienced field agent to calm everyone down.

"STOP!" The word was firm, full of emotion and so unusual coming from the hardened agent that everyone turned, eyes blinking as the mist cleared and suddenly there were gasps and  guns were raised and people froze.

Cordelia held the gun to the man's temple with an experienced ease, and in her glowing eyes was a silent message that she would not be trifled with.

The agent was still against her body, and she could hear his heart pounding fast underneath his chest.

Without another word she uncocked the gun and turned him, looking him in the eye and handing it back to him.

"Now you listen to me. I'm tired of running of being scared. If it's one thing a bitch knows, it's that we never run and we face what the hell is happening and take the damned consequences. So you take me to whoever it is I need to be taken to. Because this is ending now."

He looked at the gun, then back up at her, and finally just swallowed.

"Everyone, put away those guns."

"But-"

"I mean it. You know our orders."

He gave her another look and when she smiled, a dangerous smirk that held more warning than it did warmth, she knew they understood each other.

"Let's go."

~*~

Doyle's car was a beat up Chevy, something he kept around when Angel and Cordelia weren't around, mostly due to the fact that they refused to let him drive it when he crashed it for the thirtieth time, despite his repeated attempts to explain that that time it wasn't his fault.

The consequence of this was of course, a speed that was slow on even the best days, and a frustrated Kate, who sat in the passenger's seat, holding a hand over her bloodied side.

Doyle's hands were shaking slightly, his eyes narrowed as they were absolutely quiet, staring straight ahead of them at the convergence of squad cars only a hundred feet ahead.

To say he was near panic was an understatement. Granted, he had been in his share of difficult situations, but there had always been three of them. Him, Cordy and Angel, they had always handled everything together.

Even with Angel's soul in limbo, he had taken the initiative, bringing Cordelia back and making them a team.

He had thought it was over then, but now, with Kate by his side and Willow breathing raggedly behind them, it was never more blatantly obvious that whatever this hell was, it was far from over.

And there were new players to boot.

A hand reached over, covered his with warmth, and surprised, he looked up to find Kate staring at him, her eyes dark with sympathetic understanding.

The empathy behind the usually closed face made him cough, smiling uncomfortably before turning away.

It was quiet, but he reached into his jacket and pulled out a handkerchief, holding it out to her, hoping to avoid the blush that was creeping up his face.

She took it without a word.

"Something's wrong, "  Kate broke the silence, her husky rasp tinged with a bit of pain as Willow leaned over the seat, green eyes fixed on the red seeping through her shirt.

"Did it tear?"

"What? No, I mean yes, but that's not what I meant." She grit her teeth, sucking in her breath as she looked at Doyle, the half demon never looking over, his face dark and silent. "They should have come after us. But they didn't."

"That's cause they didn't want us.," he snapped, gripping the wheel tightly. "It was her they were after."

"She knew that," Willow whispered, licking her lips slightly, chest heaving as she looking at the two of them from that back seat.

Kate shrugged slightly, her voice filled with angered resignation as she muttered out the window, "Almost killed me to get to her. Great."

There was silence, three minds processing the information in their heads.

"Try Angel again," Kate finally said, tossing the cellphone over the back of her head to Willow, who caught it and began to punch in the numbers.

Doyle leaned forward, muttering under his breath, "There she is."

Cordelia's brown head was seen walking amid a group of agents, sunglasses on, stance casual and at the same time, a bit rigid. She wasn't handcuffed, not that they could see, and she slipped into the car easily, taking her time, the agents only stopping to look around once before sliding in with her.

Kate leaned forward, grimacing once before shrugging it off and studying the car carefully.

"Follow them."

Doyle didn't need any more encouragement. He pulled out of the alley where they had hidden themselves, falling into a safe pace behind the line of black cars.

Willow let out a curse of frustration, pulling the phone down from her ear and snapping it shut with a short jerk. "He turned it off."

"I'm going to kill 'im when I see him," Doyle growled, frustration evident in a face that was normally happy and slightly buzzed.

Kate pursed her lips. "They're not going to headquarters. Wrong direction."

"Kate look in the glove compartment," Doyle offered, his eyes always on the road. "I brought ya somethin',"

Willow sighed, didn't offer a comment, instead leaned back and watched as Kate reached into the glove compartment and pull out a black gun, a holster, and a reloader.

"Goody," she whispered, and Kate offered a tired smirk at Doyle as she expertly loaded the revolver and painfully pulled on the holster.

The sound of her cocking the gun, then uncocking it, was the last sound that came from any of them as they followed the caravan.

~*~

It was odd.

Everytime she encountered Angel and Cordelia since their fateful move to Los Angeles, Willow had always become wrapped up in some sort of crisis.

She never regretted it.

Every time she came through for them, she learned a little more of them, a bias that flitted through her head was always lifted slightly, and she always learned to think less of herself and more and more of them.

On her first trip, the time she had helped Cordelia and Angel cement their burgeoning relationship, the time she had first encountered Doyle and first agreed to keep the secret from Xander and Buffy, she had come to respect the tight trio.

When Cordelia and Angel came to her anniversary part a few years later, and she had seen the judgment in the faces of her best friends who she had always seem as such heroes, she had come to like them.

When Angel's soul had been in limbo and Cordelia had sacrificed everything to save them, she had been forced to make a choice.

It put things in perspective, and every time she had questioned their strength.

Now she was questioning hers.

Her dark green eyes flitted from the blonde cop who had once been part of the group, to the half demon who's jaw was set so firmly, eyes almost moist with unshed emotion, and she came to a startling realization.

They were now just a little bit above her view of herself in her estimation.

What they did mattered.

Willow blithely wondered when it stopped mattering for her, for Oz and Xander and Buffy and Giles. Why were they able to tear away from the pain and suffering of being a hero? Why did they lose touch?

When had they been infected with indifference?

And would they still say they would give up their lives, as these people would so willingly do?

She felt her heart shudder inside her body and she leaned back in the carseat, suddenly so very tired, and so very alive, because suddenly, if only for one more outing, she was a part of what mattered.

And if saving Cordelia would mean a sacrifice, she was more than prepared to give it.

After all, it was the least they would do for her.

~*~

He leaned down against the dark pavement, fingers pressing against the cooling blood that lay in a puddle, evidence of the assassin that had scurried through the area.

Angel paused, holding the finger drenched in the substance up to his face and smelled it, not daring to put it in his mouth, not daring to taste it.

Funny. The urge for blood, the thirst that the demon so often craved inside of him had dwindled somewhat, and he found his control, before so obviously on the border, much stronger.

It made him wonder.

Cordelia's smile filled his sense for one minute, and he found himself smiling slightly, shaking his head and pulling himself up and over the fence where Windel had fled.

She would kill him for going this alone. They all would.

It was one thing they always told each other after that one time. They would never go it alone.

But they had also said they would never lie to each other.

The time for that had also passed, and with it had come a rift that had nearly killed them all.

She would kill him for it, but he would make her understand, the more she stayed away from it the better.

He could sense the fear, the danger, and the confliction in her soul.  It attracted the inner beast inside him like a magnet, floating to her, bringing it forward, and he knew that this time, he couldn't' help her with it.

The guilt that came so easily filled him now, and Angel, the dark vampire with a soul and compassion, with the capacity to love that had taken years to fully embrace, reflected on the chaos that was surrounding them all.

He was worried. For Kate. For Doyle. For Willow and Oz and Buffy and Xander.

But mostly, he worried for Cordelia.

Something was coming, something dark and disturbing was approaching the eye of the storm that they had been living in,  he had been able to feel the fog.

But his resolve was stronger, and the growl that came from a rumbling deep in his chest signaled a new determination in his soul.

He wasn't going to let it beat them, tear down what had taken them years to build up, they're happiness, they're bond.

It wasn't going to end now.

It was just the beginning.

~*~

They treated her like they were half afraid of her, and she felt no compassion or sympathy to reassure them that she wasn't going to vamp out or go psycho bitch on them all, though really, that's what they all thought she was going to do.

One had held a gun on her until the agent in command had told him sharply to put it away, and when he had hesitated, she had rolled her eyes, muttered something about incompetent agents that had made him flush with anger, and the agent had taken his gun and yelled at him.

She felt strangely disconnected,  inside of herself was a new personality that seemed to float through her, an anger that seemed to come not of her, but from deep down inside of her, an anger and rage that made the eyes glow and as much as the bit of her old self tried to squelch it, it was a battle of wills that it seemed determined to win.

She was pregnant.

God, what are the odds? Her eyes closed and she leaned back, hands sliding up gently to the new life that was settling in the womb, and if she could still herself enough, hold back the rage and the anger at the forces that had brought yet another crisis into their lives, if she could just breathe and be absolutely still, she could feel the beating, the pulsing.

It made her smile.

It was the first real smile she had had in days, and the jump and the jolt that came with it, in her heart, shone a brightness inside of her that the darkness didn't quite like.

It caused  confliction, but a confliction she accepted,  quite readily.

In a way, it was much like the bond she had with Angel, disconcerting, but... good.

Ultimately it was the one great truth she had clung to, and even though it had shattered her inside and out, had tested her time and time again, she would have rather died than be without it.

She was damn lucky to have it.

The car pulled to a stop, and her eyes jerked open, sitting up to look outside the tinted windows to find they had arrived at the doorstep of a mansion not unlike the one she had stepped into the fateful  day ten years ago when she was hungry, broke and desperate.

"Miss Chase, if you will," the door opened and she shrugged, stepping out, a look of feigned indifference as she looked up to the entrance, and found a man dressed in an expensive suit and a regal bearing that spoke of something not quite of this earth.

"Cordelia Chase, Warrior, Welcome," he said crisply, and he shook his head at the agents, who seemed to trip over themselves to get back into their car and leave.

They were afraid of him.

She looked back up at him, into his eyes, and saw immediately what had frightened them.

There was nothing behind his eyes.

There was no soul.

"I expect they were courteous?"

"Regular gentlemen," she responded, her voice firm and angry. "Right up to the part where they shot me and my friend."

He gave her a frown, acknowledging the act with a shrug. "We had to get your attention. The vision seemed a good way to do it."

Her eyes narrowed slightly, then widened in realization as he sighed.

"Time for a meeting with the Powers That Be."

~*~

The mansion was heavily guarded, and Angel had spent a good twenty minutes in the tree, fist pressed against his mouth, eyes narrowed, trying to figure out exactly how to get inside, when a hand gripped his leg and he felt himself pulled out of the tree with a howl of surprise.

He growled, lurched up and found a hand pressed against the fangs that carried a familiar scent.

"Angel, shut the 'ell up!" Doyle whispered.

Angel mumbled and when Doyle finally removed the hand, he growled, "What the hell are you doing here?"

Doyle swallowed, looking up toward the dark lights of the mansion and pulling the taller man after him to a familiar chevy that was parked a good thirty feet away.

When Angel opened the door, his form stilled, taking in the sight that befell him.

Kate was in the back seat, shirt hiked up past her belly button, the wound bloody and torn, Willow's hands stained with the blood as she quickly used the rest of what looked like Doyle's shirt to continue mopping at the mess.

He swallowed, looking down at Kate, found her smiling grimly back, shrugging.

"Tore a little back in the hospital chase," she answered. "I'm fine."

"What hospital chase?" he immediately asked, eyes narrowing as he looked at all of them.

"You forget to turn on your phone, Angel?" snapped the tired voice behind him, and Angel felt himself pushed aside as Doyle pulled at Kate gently, hearing her indrawn breath as Doyle helped her out of the car.

"What's going on?"

"Cordy's been taken."

Everything stopped for exactly two seconds after Angel processed the information.

The next two went by rather quickly as Angel's eyes suddenly narrowed and the demon surfaced and Doyle was thrust up against the car and the panic in Angel's face was never more clear.

"WHAT?!"

"ANGEL!" Willow emerged, pushing between the two of them, eyes suddenly vivid and angry. "Calm down!"

"Calm down?!" he repeated. "What the hell happened?!"

"Angel, just breathe," was Kate's offering.

"I can't breathe," he snapped.

"Sure you can- oh. He can't."

Willow rolled her eyes and grabbed Angel's jacket, pulling him away from the half demon, who was quickly turning a not healthy shade of blue.

"Angel man, get off of me!" he choked, spikes suddenly flipping out of  his head, pushing him back. "This ain't helping her any!"

"Angel, Calm down," Kate repeated, her voice firm, but gentle, hand reaching out to squeeze his shoulder.

He seemed to take a breath, hands folding into fists, biting down on his lips before turning and then turning back.

"What happened."

"She's in the house.  The CIA caught up with us at the hospital," Willow said finally. "They pulled us in and Cordy... she had just heard that... and... she told us to go and distracted them and they brought her here."

"She's in the house?" he repeated,  and his head whipped around to view the house he had followed Windel to. "Cordy just FOLLOWED those guys into the house."

"She's flipped out," Kate hissed, her voice angered. "She found out and she... I don't know maybe it has something to do with it."

"What? What it?" Angel asked, looking from Kate to Willow. Doyle stepped up behind them, looking just as confused as the agitated Angel.

"Angel... the gunshut wound wasn't... " Kate took a breath, turning agonized eyes onto Willow. "I ... I don't feel like I should-"

"Cordelia should be the one to-"

"Cordelia isn't here," Angel suddenly growled, losing patience, making Willow jump and Kate swallow. "She's gone WILLINGLY go with agents into that house. And you're hiding things from me?"

Kate coughed, shoulders slumping, suddenly looking incredibly resigned. "Angel, she's pregnant."

~*~

The large mahogany table between them was delectably set, and Cordelia, though she hadn't been in society for quite some time, still had a glimmer left in her that appreciated the artful decor. The "messenger", who now appeared very human, had impeccable manners, taking the time to let her dress for dinner ( in extremely fine clothes, at that), and treating her as one would a guest.

Or a victim being given their last meal.

She hadn't decided which yet.

So far she hadn't been harmed, and the man who claimed to be from the Powers That Be really had nothing to say that he wasn't, and at this point, Cordelia was invaded with a resignation, a tired exhaustion that made her just want to get it all over with.

But the back of her mind was cluttered with thoughts of Angel and her friends, and it was those thoughts, along with the thoughts of the child in her womb, that made her finally look up, with hazel eyes glittering.

"Are we done playing house?"

He evaded the question entirely. "How would you like your steak?"

She thought a minute before answering, surprised to find her stomach growling in anticipation. "Rare. Bloody."

"Rare," he seemed amused by the word, shaking his head. "Interesting choice."

"Yeah well being a freak you kinda develop a taste for things like that."

"Hmm." He pulled at the bread stick, dividing it into pieces, popping the buttered bits one by one into his mouth. She took the moment to study his fingers, the long slender digits, with a single scar running in an unexpected place, across each one.

There was something forced about this features, as if someone thought too hard, tried too much to make themselves seem too normal, too perfect... it was an oxymoron, and it didn't quite work.

"Why are you here?" she found herself asking.

His gaze flickered up, felt himself smile, coughing and straightening up. "There was complaints about you. About you and your little vampire lover."

"Angel."

"The one and only. Only vampire with a soul. Only one that CARES." his mouth framed the words slowly, almost as if he was thinking them just as he was saying them, absorbing what that meant. "From the beginning he was an abomination."

She took a breath, reaching for her wine, eyes narrowing. "Abomination? A being who's saved the world more times that I can count. Who's saved the PTB's ass more than once? That kinda of being?"

He didn't answer, just took her in.

"You know the balance of the world, don't you, young Miss? Good and evil. Yin and yang. There's no way we can simply let too much good or too much evil into the world. There must be a balance. Unfortunately," he paused, taking a drink before continuing. "Would you like a refill?"

Her eyes never left his, but she nodded.

"Unfortunately, the good suffer more than the evil do. For that we are sorry. We repay their service in the afterlife. You see, Cordelia, human's are not meant to be mortals. Good is never meant to live forever. People who are inherently good, would go crazy having to live forever, because they suffer." He looked up, eyes catching hers. "But something tells me I'm not telling you anything you don't know."

"I'd kinda just like to get the point."

"There's a balance. A furious balance, Cordelia, that we must try our hardest to keep. Because if we don't... then the world tips."

"What are you talking about?" she found herself spitting, patience lost on his mind games.

The outburst didn't phase him, he merely quirked a corner of his lip, ground his teeth slightly, and continued, "Look at nature, Cordelia. Perfect explanation there. Animals and plants live in perfect harmony. It's when man comes in, that the lifecycle is completely screwed up. Endangered species, the cutting down of forests, smog, pollution, all man made. And then you get things like the ozone layer depletion, higher risk of sun cancer, and so on and so forth.

"We've been watching you. Using the druid's grounds to create a spell of pure love and sacrifice, ingenious, but you used a black magic ground. So you created a disturbance. Life is full of choices, Cordelia. It was always in the cards for Angel to have a destiny. But when he met you, he triggered yours too. You were supposed to die in Sunnydale. Unfortunately, you didn't. And you tipped the balance. But you kept Angel grounded and ultimately it was through your efforts that he remained sane and Los Angeles remained safe. And for that we were willing to let the balance go. But when you merged with him, you became more than a cheerleader. You split him in half. You split his entire being in half. His evil side and his good side, flipped. Now Angel's been able to keep his dark side at bay quite some time, he's used to it. You are not. And you will fall."

She was absolutely still, his voice hypnotic, rhythmic.

"You've begun to feel the pull, haven't you? the cry for evil? Of course, now that your are pregnant, that's something we didn't expect. Another tip in the balance. You've always been a force for good, Cordelia. But in you lies the power to destroy one of the biggest crusaders for good we've had. You hold Angel's evil. His capacity for evil, his taste for it. And you don't know how to control it. You're afraid of it. And because of that. You will fall."

He paused, and the pounding in her heart didn't lesson, but she stood, frozen to her chair, listening.

"So... the point. It all boils down to a choice, Cordelia. Either you choose to be good, and the world tips one way, or you choose to be evil, and the world tips another. We can't afford the tip, Cordelia. So I've been sent with a mission. I'm here to do one of two things. Destroy you, or destroy Angel." He raised his glass, peering at her from around it. "The choice, is up to you."
 

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