PART ONE

 

Queen of the Night

 

"Do you have everything you need?" Fred asked.

 

Cordy nodded.  "Yeah.  I guess."  She'd packed and repacked six times already.  Last night, she found herself staring listlessly at the black dress she'd pulled out the closet, wondering if she should take it, too.  After all, it was the perfect thing to be buried in.  And with the visions the way they'd been lately.... 

 

How did you pack for eternity?

 

She shifted Connor in her arms.  He blinked up at her, his still-blue eyes as wise as an old man's.  Six weeks--maybe forever--without him.  She pressed her lips to his silky forehead.  "Sweet baby.  Don't grow up too fast."

 

Gunn picked up Cordelia's suitcase and they started down the hall.  "C'mon, Barbie," he said gently.  He put his hand in the small of her back.  "Angel's downstairs waiting."

 

She glanced at him.  "Thanks."

 

Fred grabbed her overnight bag and her purse, and followed them into the hall.

 

"Bye, Dennis!" Cordy said.  The wind ruffled her hair, and then the apartment door closed slowly.  "Thanks for everything," she whispered.

 

Wes opened the stairwell door and stepped into the hall.  "Ready?" 

 

Usually his habit of taking the stairs for health drove her nuts.  But today, as she looked up at his familiar face, she realized that little habits like that were what made Wes who he was.  And they only made her love him more.  "This is freaking me out."

 

He patted her shoulder.  "I know, my dear.  It must be a little intimidating."

 

"What, going off to spend six weeks in the wilderness with Bruce Lee's grandfather?"  Fred and Gunn crowded in around them, loaded with Cordy's bags.

 

Wes chuckled.  "Maybe you'll learn some kung fu," he said, punching the elevator button.

 

"I can kick your butt already," she said, in an attempt a humor.  "What would be the point?"

 

Gunn snickered. "What?" he said at the dark look Wes gave him.  "You know it's true."

 

The elevator dinged.

 

"True, but I can out-scream you, any day," Wes said.  He ushered them all in ahead of him.

 

Fred hit the button for the ground floor and they started their descent.

 

"Don't know if I'd be admitting that in public," Cordy said, pressing her cheek to Connor's.  "What do you think, baby?  You think Uncle Wes should be proclaiming to the world that he screams like a girl?"  The baby drooled on her shoulder in response.

 

"He might scream like a girl," Fred said.  "But he's heck on wheels with that flame thrower.  Those things aren't a picnic to operate, you know."

 

Wes smiled at her over Cordy's head.  "Thanks, Fred.  Everybody's got to have something they're good at."  The doors opened and they walked through the courtyard and into the parking lot.  "Ah, here's the car," he remarked, popping the trunk so Gunn could stow the suitcase.  "Give me her other bag," he said to Fred.

 

Cordy walked to the passenger's side and looked in the open door.  Lorne sat in the seat talking to Angel in a low voice.

 

"There she is, now," he said, turning his brilliant smile her way.  "And look who she's got with her."  He reached out and chucked Connor's chin.  "Mon petit prince."  He slid out of the car.  "Hand him over.  Uncle Lorne hasn't given him his RDA of Motown yet." 

 

Cordy hugged Connor to her, then nuzzled his neck, breathing his scent deeply.  "Take care of your daddy," she whispered.  "He needs you more than you know."  She looked up at Lorne with tears in her eyes and handed him the baby. 

 

Lorne took Connor then hugged Cordy.  The baby was pressed between them and it gave her another second to run her hand over his tiny hands and perfect feet.  Another moment to press her fingers to his beating heart and commit his bones to memory. 

 

"I love you," she whispered.  She pulled back. 

 

"We love you too, babe," Lorne said.  He blinked against the sunset's rays.  "Now, get out of here.  You're making my mascara run."

 

Cordy hugged Fred.  "Bye.  You guys have a good Christmas," she said. 

 

"We won't open gifts till you get back," Fred replied with a watery smile.

 

"Yeah, dollface, six weeks ain't forever.  Heck, that's barely a blink in the cosmic calendar," Gunn said encouragingly.  His body was hard and warm, and she pressed her nose into his sweatshirt.

 

"Keep them safe," she said.

 

"Always do," he promised.

 

Cordy settled into the seat, and clicked her seatbelt in place. Wes closed the door behind her with a quiet "thunk," his hands resting in the space left by the open window.

 

"Hey, Angel," Cordy said, glancing at the shadow behind the wheel.

 

"Hey.  Ready?" he asked, his voice soft.

 

Cordy nodded.  "Ready as I'll ever be."

 

Wes patted the car door.  "You two be careful."

 

Cordy looked over at him and smiled.  "Thanks, Wes.  Take lots of pictures.  I don't want to miss anything."

 

Wes grinned and shoved his hands in his pockets.  "Just what we need.  Another excuse to photograph that baby."

 

Cordy beamed at him.  "We're worse than grandparents."

 

"That's because we're parents."

 

Angel cleared his throat.

 

Wes leaned in and hugged Cordy.  "Bye," he whispered, kissing her on the temple.

 

"Bye," she said.

 

Wes stepped away from the car.  "See you soon."

 

Cordy nodded and Angel started the car and pulled into traffic.

 

"According to the directions, we take the 10 toward San Bernadino.  You do have the directions, Cordelia?"

 

Cordy pulled a sheet from her purse and waved it at him.  "Right here."

 

***

 

Mr. Zhou lived on private land inside the San Bernadino National Forest above Big Bear Lake.  Getting to Fawnskin, the closest town, was easy.  Getting to Zhou's house was harder.

 

Cordy shivered as they passed the one residence, a ranch, within five miles of his driveway.  She wondered if it was the neighbor whose phone he'd used to call her. 

 

How did the man survive with no phone?  He probably lived in a fricking yurt.  She wrapped her arms around her waist trying to quell the creeping sense of unease that had grown ever since her conversation with him two days before.

 

"You okay?" Angel asked.  The inside of the car had taken on the peculiar softness of a night-time drive, and his voice sounded muffled by the darkness.

 

Cordy could see only the sketchiest outline of his features in the light from the dashboard, and suddenly, she was terrified that he would vanish, leaving her out in the woods all by herself.  Her hand darted out and clutched his upper arm.  "No," she whispered.

 

Angel stopped the car and put it in park.  He turned in the seat, covering her hand with his.  "You don't have to do this, Cordelia."

 

Cordy took a breath, trying to slow her pounding heart.  "I do.  You know I do," she said.  "It's just so...dark," she murmured, looking out the window.  She couldn't remember ever feeling so alone in her life.

 

Angel sat quietly for a moment.  "Cordy, get out of the car," he finally said, unlatching his seatbelt and opening the door.  The bell chimed, then stopped when Angel killed the ignition.  He climbed out, closing the door softly behind him.

 

Cordy sat for a moment, staring at his shadow, then unlatched her seatbelt. Prickles of fear darted over her shoulders leaving behind a chill that unnerved her to the bone.  Yet because it was Angel waiting for her, she pushed the door open and climbed out, just as he reached through the open window and flipped off the headlights.

 

"Angel!" Cordy shrieked.

 

He laughed, but not mockingly.  "Come here," he said, walking around the car and resting on the hood.

 

Cordy looked around her and could see nothing but a darkness so deep it pressed against her eyes like a black cloth.  Her teeth chattered as the silence overtook her and she realized how far away from civilization they were.  No cars, no TVs, no buses, no people....

 

She rounded the hood carefully and hopped up next to him, her denim-clad butt sliding easily along the black paint.  Angel put his arm around her trembling shoulder and set his feet on the bumper.  He pushed them along the hood until their backs rested against the windshield.

 

Cordy shuddered again as her back made contact with the glass.

 

"You cold?" Angel asked.

 

"No, not really."

 

"Scared, then."

 

"Well, yeah," she replied, wrapping her arms around her waist.

 

"Lots of stars out tonight," Angel commented, pulling Cordy tighter against him.  She could feel the press of his body against her, big and strangely cool.  It was as if there was nothing living beneath his clothes, but she knew that wasn't true.  She'd never met anyone more alive.

 

"Yeah," she said.  Her heart began to slow its gallop.

 

"It used to be this way all the time," he remarked, crossing one booted foot over another.

 

Cordy slid her legs over so they rested right against his.  Her feet barely reached his calves.  "What do you mean?" she asked, blowing out a breath and releasing more tension.

 

"All the lights, they're a pretty new thing.  Up until about 75 years ago, you didn't see them so much.  Just in the big cities."

 

"So it was dark like this every night?"  Cordy shivered again.  She felt Angel shake gently against her as he laughed.

 

"Yep.  Every night.  I miss it."

 

There was a longing in his voice that startled her.  It reminded her that Angel had lived lifetimes she knew nothing about.  Lifetimes she didn't want to know anything about.  She turned to look at him, but could only sense his presence in the inky darkness.  He was starting to get warm, though, from

her and from the residual heat of the engine.

 

"Why?" she asked.  "It's so lonely."

 

Angel turned his head.  Their noses bumped.  "Is that what you're afraid of, Cordelia?  Being alone?"

 

She nodded, felt the soft slip of his skin against hers.  "What's worse?" she asked.

 

He kissed the tip of her nose.  "Not much."  He turned his face back to the sky.  "When I was a kid, I used to lie in the fields and look at the stars. I dreamed about becoming a sailor so I could follow them.  It sounds corny now, but back then, it was the only way a man of my station could see the world."  He shrugged.  "I guess I did follow them, just not in the way I expected."

 

Cordy's heart twisted for the boy he must have been and for the hard hand death had dealt him.  Off in the woods a bird hooted and another answered. Cordy noticed for the first time the sound of a creek gurgling nearby and the soft soughing of the wind.

 

"It's not really all that quiet," she said.

 

Angel shook his head.  "No.  Some things live their entire lives at night," he said softly. 

 

Cordy reached up and squeezed his hand.

 

Angel laced their fingers together.  "Zhou was right, you know," he said.

 

"In what way?" Cordy asked.

 

"I never really loved anyone until I met Buffy."

 

"Angel..." Cordy started.

 

"No, let me finish.  After I got my soul, I lived on the streets, fed off rats.  I was in New York City when Whistler found me and took me to her.  I felt like my long, useless life suddenly had a purpose."

 

Cordy turned over on her side, curling her legs up and over his and slipping her hand across his belly.  His arm slid around her back, pulling her closer until her head rested on his chest.  The buttons from his shirt pressed into her cheek and she listened hard for a heartbeat that wasn't there.

 

"When I left Sunnydale and came to L.A., it was because of Buffy.

 

"We couldn't be together.  We knew that.  But she was still my reason for being, Cordelia.  She was still the reason I didn't just get up one morning and go for a walk in the sunlight."

 

"Angel," Cordy breathed.

 

Angel stroked his hand down Cordy's back, his fingers leaving tingling, heat-like imprints.  "Then you and Doyle came along.  I found, over time, that while I still loved Buffy desperately, and wanted her beyond reason, she wasn't everything anymore."  He sighed and Cordy felt the rise and fall of his chest.

 

"She was still the first thing I thought of when I woke up in the evening.  But after I was up, you guys were what kept me going.  You and the people we helped."

 

He stopped, was silent for several long heartbeats.  "When Buffy died, I thought I would die too.  I know you know that," he said, squeezing her to him.  "But when I didn't, I realized then that I'd finally moved on.  Not in big steps, but in increments.  It happened so gradually, I almost didn't see it."

 

"And you were there the whole time.  Guiding me through it.  Being my friend.  I need you, Cordy.  For the way you get in my face, for the way you keep me from brooding too much, for the way you smooth out the rough edges of my life.

 

"I know what it's like to be alone.  And for what it's worth, you're not."

 

Cordy hugged him tightly.  The creek gurgled and the bushes rustled.  She listened for a moment before she spoke.  "We have a strange life," she finally said.

 

Angel chuckled.  "Yeah, tell me about it."

 

Cordy sat up and waited for Angel to do the same.  She leaned over and kissed him, her lips resting softly against his cheek.  "Thank you.  I don't feel so scared, anymore."

 

"Well, good.  That was kind of the point," Angel laughed.  He reached up and skimmed her face with his hand, cupping it around her jaw.  "You've told me several times that, as long as you're alive, I'll never be alone.  I want you to know that works both ways."

 

"Even if I get married and have 10 kids?" she asked, laughing, leaning her face into his palm.

 

She felt Angel's grin more than she saw it.  "Even then.  Though I can't promise to look after the husband.  The kids, now...." He said, hopping off the car.  He held his hand out and Cordy took it and slid off the hood.  Her feet met solid ground and when she hugged him, the feeling of safety extended to her entire body.

 

"I love you, Angel," she said, pressing her cheek to his chest.

 

He squeezed her tightly to him, their bodies blending into one, long shadow. "I love you, too, Cordelia," he answered gruffly.  "You ready to go?"

 

Cordy nodded and pulled away.  "Yeah.  Let's do this thing."

 

Angel started the car and flipped on the headlights.  The darkness jumped away from the knife points of glare.

 

"Should be the next driveway," she said.

 

Angel grunted as the car hit a rut.  "Next time, I'm renting a four-wheeler," he said.

 

Cordy laughed.  "Just think, I'm going to be stuck up here in four-wheel country for six whole weeks.  What the *heck* am I gonna do?"

 

***

 

"Ah, you made it," Mr. Zhou said as they climbed out of the car.  He stood in the doorway, haloed in the light from the house.

 

"Hello," Angel said, extending his hand as the old man came out to meet them. 

 

"It's good to see you," Mr. Zhou said.  He shook Angel's hand and turned to Cordy.  "And it's wonderful to see you, my dear.  Are you ready for a little adventure?"

 

Despite her lingering discomfort, Cordy smiled.  "My entire life is an adventure. What's one more?"

 

The old man laughed.  "Just so," he said.  "Angel, if you will bring in the bags, I will show both of you to Cordelia's room."

 

Angel pulled Cordy's bags from the trunk, shouldering the overnight case and hefting the other.  "Thank goodness for vampire strength," he teased.  "I don't know how Gunn got this thing downstairs."

 

"Yeah, well you try packing for a month-and-a-half," Cordy retorted.

 

The house was a large, rambling rancher that opened into a soaring foyer and smelled vaguely of incense.  The floor was made of pale, shimmering stone, and to one side a small fountain cascaded into a pond filled with koi.

 

"Wow," Cordy breathed.

 

"Yeah," Angel replied.

 

As they stepped into the common area, Cordy saw two long, low sofas, covered with pillows, and several tall-backed wooden armchairs.  A pair of narrow scroll paintings hung on either side of the stone fireplace, long stripes of calligraphy, the ink startlingly black against the white paper.  The walls seemed to be mostly window, but because of the darkness, Cordy couldn't see the view.

 

There was a simple dining table made of dark wood on the far right side of the room, with 12 chairs around it.  That's a lot of chairs, Cordy mused, for a mountain retreat.

 

Her thoughts were interrupted when Mr. Zhou called to them.  "This way," he said, and she turned to follow his voice to the hallway on the left.  The hall snaked back, jogging around a sleek black bathroom and opening into a sitting area.  Off of the sitting area were several doors.  Mr. Zhou was in the first room they came to, a large, airy one painted the palest blue.

 

Cordy caught her breath at the sight of the bed.  The intricately carved wood extended up in four posters, and flared out into a wooden roof that gave the effect of a sleeping chamber.

 

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" Mr. Zhou asked.

 

Angel slipped in behind Cordy and set her suitcase and overnight bag on the floor.  "A Chinese puzzle bed," he said.  "I haven't seen one of those since the Boxer Rebellion."

 

Cordy turned to look at him.  "Geez, Angel, historic much?"

 

Mr. Zhou laughed.  "This one is very old, but very sturdy.  Most of my furniture is antique, brought over from China many years ago.  But you needn't worry about hurting it; it is virtually indestructible.  Much like your friend, here," he said, waving his hand at Angel.

 

Angel inclined his head.

 

"Young lady," Mr. Zhou said, claiming Cordelia's attention.  "Your closet is here," he pointed to a door behind her.  "And your bath is through here." He stepped forward, opening a door to a bathroom with marble floors and a sunken tub. 

 

"It gets chilly at night, but you still might like to sleep with the doors open," he said, gesturing to a set of French doors on the opposite end of the room. "If that is so, you may drop the mosquito netting around the bed.

 

"Once you are settled in, come to the kitchen, both of you, for some tea. Angel, will you be staying, or do you plan to return to the city?"

 

Angel glanced at Cordy.  "I'm going right back," he said.  "I have some work to do."

 

"Yes, well, that is probably for the best.  Cordelia and I have much to accomplish in a short amount of time."  He stepped into the hall.  "I will see you in the kitchen.  Just follow the hall back to the foyer, and you will find the door off the dining area."

 

"Thank you," Cordelia said, as the old man disappeared.  She turned to Angel.  "Can you believe this place?"

 

He arched his eyebrow.  "Not so worried about roughing it now, huh?"

 

"It takes the edge off, that's for sure," she said, opening the closet door and hoisting her suitcase inside.  She set the overnight bag on the bed with her purse.  "Boxer Rebellion?" she asked.

 

Angel grimaced.  "You don't want to know.  Let's just say it wasn't a high point of my long and not-so-illustrious life."

 

"Ooo-kay," she said.  "Sometimes the stuff you know freaks me out," she said.

 

"You're not the only one," he replied.  "Let's go get some tea.  I need to get back on the road pretty soon."

 

"You going patrolling when you get back?"  They walked through the sitting room and started down the hall to the kitchen.

 

"If there's time.  Wes and Gunn were going out tonight, so I'm not too worried."

 

"We never really talked about how we're handling the visions," Cordelia said.

 

"I figured when you had one, you'd call.  I'll keep the cell phone on all the time."

 

Cordy snorted.

 

"No, I'm serious.  I'll leave it on, and when I'm sleeping I'll give it to Wes.  Use that number, or call the hotel.  One of us will be there to get the call."

 

"Well, I guess that about covers it," Cordy said, a hint of sadness coming into her voice. 

 

They stopped at the kitchen door.  Cordy could hear water running and the "chink" of pottery hitting the countertop.

 

Angel put his hand on her shoulder.  "It's going to be hard on all of us, being separated this way."

 

Cordy stared at her feet, unable to face him.  "What if this is the last time I see you?"

 

"Cordy."

 

She kept her head down.

 

"Cordy, look at me."  He slipped his fingers under her chin and turned her face toward him.  "If I thought that every time I walked away from you, I'd never leave."

 

She smiled wistfully.  "So, don't go."

 

"You don't know how much I want to stay.  But they're testing me, too.  They're seeing if I can let you fight your own fight."

 

She nodded resignedly.  "I might have to make up some visions so we can talk, though."

 

Angel laughed.  "I think Mr. Zhou's a little too smart for that."

 

Cordy smiled again.  "Probably.  But what am I gonna do without you guys for six weeks?"

 

Angel pulled her to him.  "I think the question is, what are we going to do without you?"

 

Cordy felt the tears well up that she'd been holding back all day.  "Oh, crap.  Not now." 

 

"It's okay," Angel said, resting his chin on her head.

 

Cordy took a couple of shuddering breaths and pulled away, wiping her face with the backs of her hands.  "I'm such a crybaby," she said.

 

Angel cupped her cheek in his hand and rubbed a thumb under her eye. "That's not a bad thing."

 

"Maybe not to you," she said, trying for levity.  "You don't have to live with the red nose."  She turned and pushed open the swinging door.  Angel followed her into the kitchen.

 

"There you are," Mr. Zhou remarked.  "The tea is nearly ready."  He gestured to barstools sitting around the white-tiled island in the middle of the kitchen.  "Please, have a seat."

 

Cordy pulled a stool out and sat, watching while Angel did the same.  He'd left his duster in the car, and wore a long-sleeved charcoal sweater and his black cargo pants.  He was a shadow against the tiles, his hands pale smudges at the ends of his sleeves.

 

"Green tea is okay?" Mr. Zhou asked, pouring a golden-green stream into handleless cups.

 

"Yes," Cordy replied.

 

Angel nodded.  "Genmaicha?"

 

Mr. Zhou smiled.  "You know your tea, young man."

 

Angel arched an eyebrow.  "I grew up in Ireland."

 

"And traveled the world, I suspect," Mr. Zhou said.  He settled onto a stool and nodded to the mugs.  "Help yourself."  He pulled a steaming cup into his hands.

 

"Traveled it more than once," Angel replied, taking his own mug of tea and sipping.

 

"Yes, me too.  But I find California is home now."

 

Angel nodded and looked at Cordy, who smiled at him.  "I know what you mean."

 

***

 

The next morning, Cordy woke at dawn.  She wasn't sure what had opened her eyes at such an ungodly hour, but after lying in bed for a moment, she knew she couldn't go back to sleep.  She rolled off the mattress and padded to the bathroom to shower.

 

Pulling on a pair of jeans and a rose-colored lycra turtleneck she hadn't worn since her last skiing trip to Aspen, Cordy walked down the hall to the kitchen.  She pressed her hand to her stomach, trying to soothe the butterflies that she couldn't seem to get rid of.

 

Mr. Zhou looked up from his book and smiled.  "So, sleeping beauty awakes."

 

He looked so normal and unthreatening that Cordy beamed.  "Compliments.  Now that's a great way to start the day." 

 

"Would you like some breakfast?"  He poured her a cup of tea from the iron pot at his elbow.

 

"Yes, please."

 

He set the tea in front of her and then turned to pull a bowl from the cabinet.  He filled it with rice porridge and laid it at her place with a spoon.

 

She looked at it in horror.  "I can't eat that."

 

Mr. Zhou smiled.  "You promised to eat what I gave you, remember?"

 

Cordy grimaced.  "Well, that was stupid of me," she muttered, taking a tiny bite and chewing quickly.  A look of surprise crossed her face.  "Hey, that's good," she said.  "You wouldn't think something this gloppy would be good."

 

Mr. Zhou laughed.  "You have such a way with words."

 

"What you see is what you get," she shrugged, grinning.  "So what's on the agenda today?"

 

"I thought we'd try some t'ai chi."

 

Cordy looked up from her bowl.  "T'ai chi?" she asked.  "Angel does t'ai chi."

 

"Ah," said Mr. Zhou smiled.  "Your Angel is a wise man."

 

Cordy snorted.  "Usually, he's more of a dork," she replied, not unkindly.

 

Mr. Zhou laughed.  "Perhaps, but he did not live to his age without being flexible.  One must be willing to change in order to survive.  Your warrior has had to change many, many times."

 

Cordy took another bite and chewed thoughtfully.  "I guess I never thought of it that way.  He's always just been Angel to me.  Unless he's Angelus, of course, but let's not go there."  She waved her spoon dismissively.

 

Mr. Zhou inclined his head.  "Of course I have heard of Angelus.  Who in our line of work hasn't?  But Angel seems to have found a successful way to control his demon.  Something more humans could stand to learn," he said wryly.

 

"Tell me about it."  She placed the now empty bowl in Mr. Zhou's outstretched hand.  "Thanks."

 

Mr. Zhou rinsed the bowl and spoon and put them in the dishwasher.

 

"We will hold our practice outside," he said, picking up the thick wool sweater on the back of his stool and slipping it over his head.  "You will want something more substantial than that," he said, nodding to Cordy's shirt.  "Why don't you find something suitable and meet me on the deck."  He pointed toward the back of the house.

 

"Great."  She walked back to her room and found a white fleece pullover, then pushed her feet into her hiking boots.  The French doors opened onto the deck, and she walked outside to join Mr. Zhou.

 

Her breath caught in her lungs.  She'd expected a great view, but not this miracle of nature. 

 

The area Mr. Zhou lived in was forested mainly by pines, but down a little farther, and stretching out for miles, there were lacy live oaks and the red-trunked manzanitas that glowed richly in the sun's bright morning rays. 

 

She glimpsed a blue shimmer that must have been Big Bear lake in the distance.  As far as she could see there was nothing but trees, water and sky.  Even though the month had been warmer and dryer than usual, there was a definite bite to the breeze, and when she breathed, the air was as crisp and pure as a just-picked apple.

 

Mr. Zhou stood on the lawn below the deck.  "It's beautiful, isn't it?"

 

Cordy nodded.  "It's very different in the daylight."

 

"Yes," he commented.  "We think, because we can see them, that only the creatures who move in the day exist."  Overhead a bird soared, its call floating on the breeze.  Mr. Zhou pointed at it.  "That, for example."

 

Cordy looked up.  "What is it?"

 

"A red-shoulder hawk."  He stood silently for a moment tracing the bird's movement with his hands, as if he were dancing with it.  Instead of looking foolish, he appeared graceful and fey, otherworldly. 

 

"Its brother is the owl," he said, dropping his hands and plucking his cane from its resting place against the deck.  He motioned with his head for her to join him, and she walked down the steps and onto the lawn.

 

"Both are hunters, both share the same ground.  But one works days and the other nights," he said.  "You would be familiar with this, being a day-walker who works so closely with a vampire."

 

Cordy nodded. 

 

"Nature creates a balance," Mr. Zhou continued.  "Destroy one, and both die.  It is the same with you and your warrior.  When one is weak, the other cannot thrive."

 

"That's why I'm here." Cordy fell into step beside him as they started down a wide path.  The forest smelled fresh and piney in the chilly morning air, and their feet left long tracks in the dust.

 

"You have some things to balance, yes, but Angel does, too.  I was not joking when I said that his heart is as much at stake as yours is," he said, planting his silver-headed cane in the ground with each step.

 

Cordy nodded and stuck her hands in her pockets.  "So what do we do?"

 

"I'm developing a plan.  But first, you must build your chi, your energy.  You must also learn to work with, not against, the power that is behind your visions.  It hammers on your door now because it knows no other way to get in.  But leave the door cracked, and its visits will be gentler."

 

Cordy nodded.  "That makes sense.  But what about Angel?"

 

"As I said, Angel is a wise man, one who has endured centuries of change.  But his habit is to hole up and think too deeply about things.  He believes he protects those he loves by remaining unattached."

 

"Well, in a way he's right.  It was becoming too attached to Buffy that unleashed Angelus.  He killed our teacher and stalked Buffy and our friends for months until she sent him to Hell," Cordy said, distinctly uncomfortable.

 

"If Angel experiences pure happiness, he loses his soul, it's true," Zhou replied.  "But there are many shades of happiness one may experience before achieving the kind of bliss it takes for Angel's soul to go free.  He must learn how far he can go before he loses it all, or else he will never experience true human connection.  And without that connection, he cannot shanshu."

 

Cordy stopped, gaping at him.

 

He shrugged.  "Like I said, people in our line of work know things."

 

Cordy puffed out a breath.  "Well," she said.  "Skipping over the part where you're Miss Cleo's Chinese brother, if Angel's not here, how can he learn what his limits are?"

 

"You will teach him."  The trail passed through a densely wooded area then opened into a clearing.

 

"*I* will teach him," Cordy said.  "You've got to be kidding.  I can't teach Angel anything."  She followed Mr. Zhou into the clearing. 

 

Mr. Zhou stopped.  "My dear, you underestimate your gifts.  You think, without your visions, you are worth nothing.  But Angel needs you as much as you need him.  You are his link to life.  You, like his son, are his link to the future." 

 

He rested his cane against a tree trunk and turned to look at her, his black eyes reproachful.  "You place too much stock in things that fade.  Visions will pass, my dear.  But love is eternal." 

 

Cordy realized there was nothing she could say to that.  "So my gift is to help Angel become human.  How?"

 

Mr. Zhou laughed.  "You are looking for hard answers to a soft question.  When the time for things is upon us, we instinctively know what to do."  He assumed the first posture of the t'ai chi long form.

 

"You and Angel.  Always with the cryptic," she said, arranging her body in a mimic of his.

 

Mr. Zhou laughed.  "I am an old man.  Please allow me my small pleasures."

 

***

 

Wes sat in the office three nights after Cordy's departure.  Books lay open all around him, some stacked four or six high.  Yellow legal pads were scattered about, half-hidden by books, several with the nubs of pencils still resting where he'd dropped them mid-thought.

 

It was late--or early for certain types--and the hotel was dark and a little spooky.  Even though it looked like Cordy's problems might be solved by this shaman, Wes wasn't going to stop researching.

 

Not only did he want a back-up plan, he also found the reading fascinating.  Unfortunately, it also made him the man who knew too much.

 

"Hey, Wes."  Angel appeared in the doorway, lurking as usual.

 

Wes started.  "Didn't hear you there," he said.  He closed the book he'd been reading, marking the page with his finger.

 

"Kind of late for you, isn't it?"  Angel sat down across the desk, being careful not to disturb any of the books.

 

Wes shrugged.  "I'm about done for the night.  It's just that I found this passage and I wanted to finish it." 

 

"Anything interesting?"

 

"Oh," Wes replied as casually as possible.  "Just a history book on Seers."

 

Angel grimaced.  "We had that?  Here?  The whole time?"

 

"No.  Got it at the Magic Box."

 

Angel's shoulders relaxed.  "Whew.  I was worried there for a minute.  So?  What does it say?"

 

Wes wondered whether there was a graceful way to change the subject.  "Angel, I really would prefer....  That is, you see, I would rather not...."

 

"Wesley." 

 

Apparently not.  He cleared his throat.  "Yes.  Right.  Well, you see, what I've found is that, um, er...."

 

"Just spit it out," Angel said mildly.  "It can't be...."

 

"The last human girl who had the visions?  Her head exploded."

 

"...that bad," Angel finished.

 

"So you see, Angel, what we've got here is a difficult situation," Wes rushed on.

 

"Difficult," Angel repeated.  He stood slowly, like an old man.  "What do we do?"

 

"I...we....  Keep researching.  I'm sure there's something in here...."  Wes looked at all the books, and suddenly he felt wrung out.  Hopeless.  "I have no idea," he whispered.

 

Angel shuffled to the door.  "Get some rest, Wesley.  Take one of the rooms upstairs.  I don't want you driving."

 

Wes nodded.  "Yes.  Right.  I'll just go on up.  Angel?"

 

He turned back, his face shadowed and stark.  "Hmmm?"

 

"I'm sorry."

 

Angel disappeared soundlessly, leaving Wes alone in the shadowed room.

 

***

 

Cordy and Mr. Zhou practiced t'ai chi, this time in the sitting room.  The sun was setting over the mountains, highlighting the storm clouds that gathered darkly on the horizon.  The furniture had been pushed to the sides of the room, leaving a large open space in the middle.

 

"Grasp sparrow's tail to the left; grasp sparrow's tail to the right; push hands," Mr. Zhou said.

 

Cordy had been practicing tai chi with him for nearly a week.  By now, she followed his instructions carefully, trying to remember to keep her hands relaxed, to feel her feet against the earth, and to breathe properly with each pose.

 

"Very good," he said.  "Again."

 

Cordy groaned.

 

Mr. Zhou ignored her, used to her complaints.  "Ready?" he asked.  When she didn't respond, he glanced at her. "Cordelia?"

 

Cordy groaned again and grabbed her head.  "Vision," she rasped, her body jerking forward violently.

 

This was her first since coming to his retreat.  Something about the mountains, or being with him--who knew what the reason was?--had slowed them down.  She was grateful for the respite, but each day that passed without a vision only increased her anxiety.

 

He ran to her side and eased her to the floor, anchoring her legs with his, and cradling her head on his arm.

 

She writhed beneath him, her breath coming in short bursts, her hands clutching her temples.

 

"Poor little thing," he crooned, absorbing the aftershocks with his body.

 

Cordy moaned, terror and pain slicing through her like a scalpel.  "Angel."  She reached out blindly with one hand.

 

Mr. Zhou slipped off of Cordy and knelt beside her.  He put his fingertips on her temples and rubbed, gently chanting under his breath.

 

"Angel?"  She opened her eyes, startled to find Mr. Zhou.  "Oh, it's you."

 

"Shhh," Mr. Zhou whispered, then went back to his chanting.  His eyes flashed silver.

 

Cordelia cried out, then lay quietly.

 

"There," said Mr. Zhou.  "Is that better?"

 

Cordy reached a hand to her head.  "Sort of," she said, wincing.  She sat up.  Relief, then realization washed through her.  "I have to find a phone," she gasped.

 

Mr. Zhou put his hands on Cordelia's shoulders.  "Wait."

 

She shoved his hands aside and stood up, listing dizzily.  "Are you crazy?  She's in danger!"

 

"Cordelia," Mr. Zhou said, his voice sharp.  "Stop."

 

A week was hardly long enough to trust someone, especially a man as powerful as Zhou.  But the command in his tone was enough to at least slow her down.

 

"Why?  I told you, that girl is in danger!"

 

His eyes flashed.  "Do not contradict me!"

 

Cordy's patience snapped.  "Look!" she said, her voice rising in frustration.  "I've got a job to do and you're keeping me from doing it!"

 

Mr. Zhou took a deep breath.  "You try my patience." 

 

Cordy stared him down, her body humming with leftover adrenaline.

 

"If you don't learn to manage these visions, they will kill you.  It's entirely possible, that if you *do* learn to manage them, they will still kill you.  But if you don't even try, if you just keep on as you are, there is one-hundred percent certainty that you will not survive to see the summer."

 

Her breath left her body in a whoosh.  It took her a moment to catch it.  "All right," she said quietly, when she was able to talk.  "What do you want me to do?"

 

"You will need my help," Mr. Zhou responded.

 

"Fine."

 

"Give me your hands."

 

Cordy sat, then reached out her hands.  The moment their palms touched, she felt a jolt of power that rocked her like a boat on stormy water.

 

"That's good," Mr. Zhou soothed.  "Now, tell me what you see."

 

Cordy closed her eyes, fighting the nausea that pounded through her.  The vision flashed again. 

 

"I see, um, a girl, about my age.  Short hair, red.  She's going into a bar.  Can't see which one."

 

"Yes, you can.  Look more closely," Mr. Zhou prompted and squeezed her hands.

 

Cordy felt another jolt, like a stream of pure electricity.  "Uh, the Underground," she said around chattering teeth.  "On Fairfax.  And, oh, God, there's the demon," Cordy cried, yanking her hands from Mr. Zhou's and shaking her head.  "I can't stand it," she said, her voice quavering.  "It's too much.  It's too much."

 

"Cordelia, give me your hands," Mr. Zhou said calmly.  "You can do this.  I will show you how."

 

Cordy shuddered out a breath, looking at him through tear-filled eyes.  "Just make it stop hurting," she said.

 

"Give me your hands," he repeated. "Now breathe deeply and imagine that the jolt you have been feeling is, instead, a river.  It will take you where you want to go."

 

Cordy closed her eyes and placed her hands in his.  She felt the surge, but then it smoothed out, becoming something sinuous.  It flowed up her arms and pooled in her armpits, then rushed down her torso and out her feet and head.

 

"That's good.  Now tell me what you see."

 

"The demon is a...I don't know its name.  But it's tall and scaly.  Long tail, almost looks like a lizard but it stands on two legs.  It's gray with glowing yellow eyes and God, look at those teeth.  Oh, God, Mr. Zhou, she's so scared, I can feel her heart pounding."  She clenched his hands.

 

"Cordelia, feel what you need to and let go of the rest.  You are getting stuck in her pain."

 

"But that's what I feel the strongest!"

 

"Of course it is.  And you do not need to stop feeling with her, but you must only feel it when it happens.  Then you must let it roll away from you.  Like this."

 

Cordy felt the girl's fear like a punch to her gut, and then it was gone, and all that was left was the vision.  The demon grabbed her arm with a scaly paw and Cordy felt the rip in her flesh.  She grunted at the impact, but the pain did not linger.  Instead, she felt strangely clean, as if she'd been washed through with pure light.

 

"You see?" Mr. Zhou said.  "You cannot control the fate of those whom you witness simply by holding on to their pain.  They will live or die according to their own destiny.  Now, how do you feel?"

 

Cordy rubbed her arms.  "Still got the post-vision hangover.  But not as bad as usual."

 

"Good, good.  Now we can go call Angel."

 

***

 

"How'd she sound?" Angel asked as he swung his sword at the Methros demon.

 

"Fine.  She sounded great," Gunn grunted.

 

The big, gray tail whipped out and knocked him off his feet.  He ate alley dirt, spat once, then rolled as the thing swung its tail again.  At least this one didn't shoot fire out its butt.  Yet.

 

They'd lured the demon out behind the bar and a crowd of horrified and fascinated onlookers watched from the open door.  He wasn't used to working with an audience and it had him off his rhythm.  Or could be, it was Angel's constant chatter.  He rolled to his feet, his axe still clutched in his hand.

 

Angel jumped, bending his knees and hurdling the tail like a track star.  "I can't believe I missed her call.  Of all times to be out...."  He twirled toward the demon, his sword coming within inches of its nose.  "....getting blood," he finished. 

 

The demon roared and his breath smelled like rotten eggs.  "Man, you seriously need a breath mint," Gunn called, distracting the thing long enough for Angel to get in close.

 

Except Angel didn't move.  He just stood there, swinging the sword absentmindedly.  "She was okay, though, right?  I mean, she didn't fall or anything.  And he has those painkillers she likes, the ibuprofen?"

 

"Angel, man," Gunn panted.  He dodged as the Methros came for him, its short arms making a grab for his head.  "She was fine.  Could you help...." He pivoted and brought his foot up against the lizard's rib.  "...Me...."  The demon wobbled but didn't fall, like a dang Weebol.  "...Out here?"

 

"Oh, yeah, sure," Angel said, coming up behind the thing and lopping its head off in a graceful arc.  Demon goo spurted and the crowd roared.  Angel brandished his sword toward them as the demon stumbled in slo-mo and finally fell.

 

Those things never seemed to just give in gracefully, Gunn thought, wiping ichor out of his eyes.  "Thanks," he said.

 

"So, she was okay?"

 

Gunn groaned in exasperation.  He leaned his axe against the demon's body and went to stand in front of the other man.  "How many times I gotta tell ya?" he asked, taking Angel by the shoulders.  "She's fine.  She was sorry she missed you.  She'll have another vision real soon, and you can talk to her then, okay?" 

 

He knew this was hard for Angel.  It was hard on all of them.  But, dang, the dude had taken it to the limit already.  He should just confess his love for the girl.  Get it out in the open.

 

Angel sighed forlornly.  He kicked the sword with the toe of his scuffed boot.  "It's just....  It was the first time she called since she left, and...."  He sighed again.

 

Gunn bent to pick up his axe.  "Look, man, she'll call again.  I guarantee it.  Until then, we got stuff to do.  Like show Connor the new 'Swordfighter' magazine.  I saw it came in the mail today."

 

Angel perked up at that.  "Okay," he said.  He swung his sword over his shoulder like a farmer with a pitchfork.

 

"Uh, Angel?"  Gunn said, wrapping his axe in its cover.  "You might want to sheathe that.  Don't wanna alarm the locals."

 

Angel looked at Gunn, then at his sword.  "Oh, yeah.  Right."  He stuck it in his coat and drew the fabric close.  "Thanks."

 

"Anytime," Gunn said.  They turned toward the car and Gunn heard the bar door slam behind them. 

 

One demon down, a million more to go.

 

***

 

"Dreams.  They're as important as the visions.  You must learn to interpret them properly so you can put them to their best use."

 

Mr. Zhou sat at the white tiled island in the kitchen, his hands wrapped around a mug of tea.  The day was gray and heavy with clouds, and the wind blew through the tops of the trees.

 

But it wasn't the winter wind that gave her a chill.  "How do I know which dreams to pay attention to?"  She remembered the one she had the night before she met Zhou.  And how she'd woken up, shaking and terrified, and full of the knowledge that she'd just been warned.

 

Something--or someone--was coming for Angel.

 

"There are many forms of dreams.  There are those that are simply the chatter of the subconscious, letting go of the day.  There are waking dreams, or conscious dreams.  These are usually communications from your guides.  In them, you can interact consciously with the other beings who appear."

 

"Can I learn to do that?"

 

"Of course.  I will teach you.  After that, there are the visions, themselves."

 

Cordy shuddered. 

 

"If the theory I am working on is correct, you will be able to access visions any time, anywhere, without pain.  As you begin to understand them, you will see that they always exist, right beneath the surface of your conscious mind.  Even in sleep."

 

She had a sudden thought.  "Before, at the apothecary, I saw something."

 

Zhou nodded.  "Yes.  You saw the visions."

 

"But I saw something else, too.  Just before you let go of my hand, I saw a net thingy, covering everything.  Like light or something."  She was having a hard time describing it.

 

Despite that, Zhou nodded again.  "You have studied physics, I'm sure."

 

She snorted.  "Get real."

 

"You should read about modern physics.  It confirms what we students of the Mysteries have always known.  There is only one energy field connecting everything.  What we see with human eyes is like the tip of an iceberg.  Most of our reality is contained below the water."

 

"That's what being a Seer is?"

 

"Yes.  Being a Seer is rather like using the connection as a phone line.  It enables you to see beyond the surface, into what's happening anywhere, at any time."

 

"And your theory?"

 

"It's coming.  Slowly but surely."

 

"Right.  Just make sure you get it done before my head pops off." 

 

"That's the first time you've joked about your plight, my dear.  It's a good sign."

 

"Humor's a great way to deflect," she countered.  "Maybe I was just deflecting."

 

"Or possibly you were making the best of a bad situation.  I admire that trait in you.  It's one of your real strengths."

 

"Thanks.  And you know what else?"  Her smile was warm and friendly.  "Before, I didn't trust you at all.  But now?  I almost do." 

 

Zhou laughed.  "And it only took a week and a half.  I must be slipping."

 

***

 

Wes rapped his knuckles against the door.

 

"Hey," he said, when Angel opened it.  He held up a six pack.  "Guinness and a couple of cigars.  You up for it?"

 

Angel stepped back, holding the door open.  "Sounds good."

 

Wes ignored the almost pathetic look of relief on Angel's face and followed him into the apartment.  "You've been cleaning," he commented, gazing at the polished surfaces.  The smell of lemon oil and beeswax filled the air, an odor Wes remembered from his childhood.

 

"Things got dirty," Angel shrugged, following Wes's glance with his own.  The entire suite sparkled.  He'd even gotten rid of the cobwebs in the corners.

 

"Beats nightclubbing," Wes remarked.  "Which is what Cordy would have us out doing, if she were here." 

 

"God, yes," Angel said as he trailed Wes to the living area.  "Can you imagine?  All that noise, all that heat, all those people."  His voice trailed off and his eyes glazed over.

 

Wes cleared his throat.  "Yes, exactly," he said, setting the beer on the coffee table and pulling a couple of tall glasses out of the cabinet next to the refrigerator.  He began building the Guinness into a chocolate-brown column.

 

Angel set a heavy, crystal ashtray and a pack of matches on the table then held his hand out for the cigars, which Wes pulled from his shirt pocket. 

 

"Smuggling, now?" Angel asked, eyebrows raised.

 

Wes shrugged.  He began pouring the second beer.  "One of Gunn's friends brought them up from Mexico."

 

"Nothing like a good Cuban," Angel said.  "Cigar, Cuban cigar," he added quickly. 

 

Wes glanced over at him.  "I thought nothing other," he replied, without a trace of irony.

 

Angel pulled out a pocketknife, clipped the butts on both cigars then lit one, drawing steadily until the tip glowed red.

 

"Mmmm," he said.  "That's good."  He took a beer from Wes and handed him the unlit cigar and the matches in exchange.

 

"So," Wes said, lighting up and puffing out smoke.

 

Angel sat down and rocked his chair back on its hind legs.  "Kinda quiet," he mused, looking around the apartment.  His eyes returned to Wes.  "Just the way I like it."

 

Wes nodded, briskly.  "Yes," he said, sipping the Guinness.  He wiped his foam off his mouth with the back of his hand.  "Quiet.  Perfect for research.  Just think how much we've accomplished in the last two weeks.  Why, I found information I never knew existed on the Quyuaa demon." 

 

"Exactly.  And that's the kind of thing that'll come in handy someday when we find one, even though they don't often leave, uh, Fiji.  But you never know," Angel agreed emphatically.  "They could catch a boat or something.  Hey, you know what else?  The other day I got in the car, and the radio was still on the classical station.  No Kenny Kravitz, no..."

 

"Lenny," Wes said.  He pushed his glasses up his nose.

 

"What?"

 

"Lenny, not Kenny."

 

Angel waved his hand.  "Whatever.  No more of that tuneless crap she calls music.  No smelly nail polish.  No, 'Angel, you're brooding again, Angel you're not eating enough, Angel, did you remember to cut the paychecks,'" he said in a pretty good Cordy-voice.

 

"Precisely."  Wes nodded fiercely and sipped his stout.  "Ah, now that's beer."

 

"Yeah, a man's beer.  What do you call that crap she drinks?"

 

"Rolling Rock," Wes shuddered.  "Horse piss."

 

"Exactly my point," Angel said.  He puffed a couple more times.  The room was starting to fog with blue haze. 

 

"Hey, where's Gunn?"  Wes asked.  "He should be down here with us."

 

"He and Fred are upstairs watching Evita with Lorne."  He shrugged.  "Connor and I decided we'd rather hang out down here and do manly things.  Unfortunately, for Connor that means sleeping."

 

"Ah.  I'd say he's a bit young for a pint, anyway."

 

Angel nodded.  "Give him a few months.  We'll wean 'im on stout," he said, his old accent slipping through.

 

"You're a walking history text, Angel," Wes said dryly.

 

Angel grunted.  "I've heard that somewhere before."  He tapped the cigar against the ash tray.  "You think Gunn's doing okay since that thing went down with his gang?"

 

"As well as could be expected.  I haven't spoken with him about it.  After Billy...."  He cleared his throat.

 

"Yeah."  The room was silent for a moment.  "Hey, maybe Cordy can talk with him.  They have a thing, a connection," he said with a slight frown.

 

"That's a good idea.  She does tend to worry about his safety," Wes replied innocently.

 

"Uh huh, that's Cordy, always worrying about something," he said, dropping his chair to the floor with a thunk.  "Hey, how about some music?  I picked up a new CD the other day."

 

"Sure," Wes shrugged. 

 

Angel went to the stereo and dropped a disk into the CD player.  David Gray's "Babylon" wafted through the air.

 

"Say," Wes said.  "That's pretty good.  What is it?"

 

"Some Welshman.  Cordy thought I'd like him."  He brought the disk cover over, flipped it to Wes.

 

"Not bad," he mused, studying the cover for a moment, then laying it back down on the table.  "So," he said.  He took a swallow of beer, tapped his ashes into the glass dish.

 

"Uh huh," said Angel.

 

"Well," Wes said.  "This is nice."

 

Angel's face fell into the familiar lines of a brood. 

 

The CD was halfway through the fourth song before Wes finally spoke.  "Oh, bugger it," he said.

 

Angel glanced up at him.  "What?"

 

Wes sighed and took a puff.  "I miss her terribly."

 

There was a beat of silence.  "Yeah.  Me too," Angel finally admitted.  "It's too quiet.  No phone calls, no nagging, no stupid Cosmo quizzes.  I even miss the nail polish," he said in a pained voice.

 

"Exactly," Wes sighed again.  "It's 11:00 on a Friday night.  We could at least be out patrolling.  But here we sit, like a couple of lugs.  What wankers," he said.

 

"Yeah.  Hey, I've got an idea!"

 

Wes looked at him curiously.

 

"How about a drink?"  He got up and pulled a bottle of very old Scotch from under the sink.

 

"But we *are* having a...."  Wes got a good look at the bottle.  "Oh," he said, mouth watering in anticipation.  "But what about Connor?"

 

"He's asleep.  Besides, we can hold our liquor."  He set a couple of squat glasses on the table. 

 

"Angel, you have glassware for every purpose," Wes noted with admiration.

 

"You live long enough, you collect stuff," he said, pouring two fingers in each glass.  He sat down, clinked his glass against Wes's.  "To uh, what?" he asked, his brow wrinkling.

 

"To Cordy coming home and relieving us of our miserably boring existences," Wes said.  He sipped the Scotch and moaned as it slid down his throat.  "Godalmighty," he said reverently.

 

"Pinched it from Spike," Angel said with an impish smile.  "When we were in Sunnydale.  One thing you can say about my childe, he knows his drink," he said, nodding.  He poured another finger for each of them.

 

"Ah, Spike.  I kind of feel sorry for the guy," Wes said.  "Neutered like a puppy."

 

"Yeah," Angel nodded.  "I'd rather have a soul than a chip, any day.  But you gotta admit," he said grudgingly, "he does take good care of Dawn."

 

Wes grimaced.  "Never thought I'd see that happen.  He must feel something very strong for Buffy to tie himself to a child that way."

 

Angel's mouth pulled into a flat line.  "Spike and Buffy.  Now there's a joke.  That poor bastard."  He paused.  "Spike likes to think he knows what love is.  He's just a romantic boy," he said, finishing his Scotch and chasing it with beer.

 

"Now I, on the other hand, know what it means to love.  It means giving up the person you love most in the world because you want them to be happy.  It means sacrifice," he said, slamming his fist on the table.

 

Wes jumped.  "Sacrifice," he repeated.

 

Angel opened two more cans of Guinness and began pouring them into the empty glasses.

 

"I thought I knew everything there was to know about love.  I was with Darla for centuries," Angel continued, crumpling the cans and pitching them toward the garbage can.  "Of course, that all changed, when Wolfram & Hart brought her back," he grimaced, taking a large swallow of beer.  "I'll be forever grateful to her for bearing Connor.  But I can't say I miss her.  If she were still alive, I'd probably be making it my life's work to stake her."

 

A slightly tipsy grin crossed Wes's features.  "Stake her, as in, with a stake, or stake her as in..."

 

Angel snorted.  "Oh, please.  Even if I wanted to, which I don't, Cordy would kill me."

 

"Seriously, Angel, why did you do it?"  Wes leaned forward on the table, balancing his forearms on his knees.

 

"What, exactly, are you asking?" Angel said cautiously, glancing up at Wes. 

 

"C'mon, Angel."  Wes narrowed his eyes.  "You can't tell me you didn't make love with Darla.  The proof is in your bedroom asleep."

 

Angel sat quietly, fiddling with his Scotch glass.  "That's not really what I'd call it," he admitted.

 

"What, then?"  The furrow in his brow grew deeper.

 

"I'd actually call it an act of desperation, myself," Angel continued.  "The good thing is, it kicked me in the butt.  Got me to realize how stupid I was being.  You could say that screwing Darla was what started my epiphany."  He looked up at Wes.  "Imagining what my life would be like if all of you were dead?  That's what really made me see the light."

 

Wes frowned, gulped his beer.  "I have to admit, I'm a little pissed right now."

 

"Pissed, as in drunk, or pissed as in mad?"

 

"Both, actually," Wes said, anger flaring.  This conversation had been a long time in coming.  The uproar created by Connor's birth had simply postponed it.  "Did you not realize that banging your Sire could very well unleash Angelus?"

 

Angel scrubbed his hand over his face.  "Oh, I knew.  I just didn't care."

 

Wes gasped.  "But, but....   *Angel*, if you'd... if he'd..." he spluttered.  "How could you compromise us that way?"

 

Angel barked out a laugh.  "Honestly, Wes, my life was so bad at that point that I didn't care.  I just wanted to feel...something.  I was so cold," he said, shivering at the memory.

 

"Well, next time you're cold, get a blanket!" Wes yelled, leaping from the couch and pacing agitatedly.

 

Angel watched him, a sad look on his face.  "You think I don't know how lucky I got?"

 

Wes glared.

 

"Boy, did that come out wrong," Angel apologized.  "Look, Wes, I did a stupid thing.  I can't lie to you.  There was a moment when I really hoped I was going to change," he said quietly.  "Because then I would have felt...something.  But it didn't happen, and I realized that it wasn't going to.  Let's just say that profound gratitude doesn't even begin to describe it."

 

Wes's mouth opened and closed a couple of times.  Then he picked up his glass, splashed more Scotch into it with a shaking hand, and downed it in one gulp.  "Your decision-making skills leave a lot to be desired," he snapped.  "You *bastard*.  When I think about what could have happened to any one of us...."

 

Angel nodded, looking dejectedly into his glass.  "I know.  It was stupid," he repeated.

 

Wes rubbed his hand across his face and slumped back onto the couch.  "Well, I for one am pathetically grateful that we didn't have to face your alter ego."

 

Angel looked up from his glass.  "Kill him," he said.  "Shanshu, or no shanshu.  Kill him.  Because if he comes back, he'll go straight for the baby.  Or one of you."  His jaw clenched.

 

Wes nodded.  "We know that, Angel.  And we're prepared to do whatever we have to do.  But killing will always be a last resort."

 

"Make it your first," he said. 

 

"But what about Cordy?  The research seems to indicate that if one of you dies, the other will have real difficulty surviving."

 

Angel stared into the shadows.  "We'll just have to make sure it never happens, then, won't we?"

 

***

 

Meditating.  Ugh.  She hated sitting still and couldn't slow down her mind, no matter how hard she tried.

 

"Stop trying so hard," Mr. Zhou said, sitting next to her with his eyes closed. 

 

He didn't seem to have any trouble with it, she thought, aggravated.  "I can't," she complained.

 

"Try a mantra," he replied, exhaling deeply.

 

"I'm not repeating any stupid phrases," she muttered, closing her eyes tighter.

 

Mr. Zhou chuckled softly.  "Well, pick something that's not stupid.  Pick something you like."

 

Cordy opened one eye and looked at him.  He was the picture of relaxation.  She wrinkled her nose.  "I don't know anything."

 

"What about the 23rd Psalm?" he asked, his voice dreamy. "If not that, something else.  You know something positive, surely?"

 

"The only thing positive I know is shopping.  Hey!  How about 'Dolce and Gabbana'?  I could just repeat that over and over."

 

"Whatever works, Cordelia," Mr. Zhou said.  "Now, be quiet.  I'm meditating, even if you're not."

 

"Sure, rub it in," Cordy said.  She gave up and flopped back on the grass so she could look up at the sky.  Between storms, clouds floated, high and light, and a few birds glided overhead.  If she turned her head slightly to the left she could see the tops of the pine trees.  They tiptoed softly in the chilly breeze, and as she watched, she felt her breathing slow and her mind empty out.  Open up.

 

"No.  Oh, no," she said, her eyes going wide.

 

"Cordelia?"

 

"Vision," she cursed, her body stiffening. She grabbed her forehead as the flashes exploded through her skull.

 

It was bad.  Really bad.  More vamps.  Only this time they hit the 5:30 a.m. drop-off at a daycare in Silverdale, a couple of miles from her apartment.

 

From outside the flashes she could hear Mr. Zhou whispering to her.  "Cordelia, the river," he suggested, his voice a hypnotic murmur.  "Remember to float, to ride the current."

 

Even as she thrashed with the agony of the vision, Cordy felt the energy change.  The pummeling force went from battering ram to tidal wave, from tidal wave to riptide.  The seizures became undulations, her body riding the waves like a boat on the sea.

 

"Yes," he said, stroking her hair off her face.  "Let it take you."

 

The strangely erotic punch of the power hit her full force then, and she moaned as it pounded through her.  Her body arched as the energy took off, rocket fast, shooting from toes to hips to scalp.  Her fingers clawed the earth, her head turning side-to-side as a white-hot sun built itself within her.  She moaned, long and low, the current rippling through every muscle and cell, lighting her up like a klieg light.

 

Then the vision ended, and Cordy's body went limp.  She lay panting, her clenched hands releasing the dirt she'd palmed.  She moved her legs, trying to find a more comfortable position.  The pleasure arced through her, dimmer than before, but still present.  Her eyes opened, blinking against the bright winter sunlight.

 

"Much better, Cordelia," Mr. Zhou said.  "Now take a deep breath."

 

She pulled in air, long and slow, and the heat dispersed, a fire dampened but not extinguished.  She took a few more breaths, and, remarkably, her system leveled.  After a moment, she rolled to her side and pushed herself into a sitting position.

 

"How is your head?" he asked, helping her find her balance.

 

Cordy frowned and pressed her dirty fingertips to her temples.  "Better," she said, looking at him warily.  "What was that?  The Powers' version of the Playboy Channel?"

 

He laughed.  "As I said, it can be very erotic.  As well it should be.  After all, you are dancing with power from which all life sprang."  He stood, brushed off his pants.  "Now, let's go call your warrior."

 

Mr. Zhou urged her to her feet and she leaned heavily on him as she waited for her head to stop spinning.  

 

"Okay, I've got it now," she said, steadying her legs beneath her.  The movement sent hot spear of pain lancing through her chest.  Cordy winced and pressed her hand between her breasts.  "Ow," she said, looking at Mr. Zhou in confusion.  Her features twisted into a grimace.  "What was that?" 

 

Mr. Zhou watched her closely as he guided her toward the house.  "It is the connection making itself known."

 

Cordy limped beside him.  The ache throbbed angrily, like a toothache or a sprain.  "What?" she asked, breathing shallowly against it. "You mean my link with Angel?

 

Mr. Zhou nodded, helping her slowly down the path.  "Part of what causes you pain is the link, itself.  As you are learning to channel the visions, so we must also find a way for you to channel the link." 

 

"It didn't seem to bother Doyle."  With each minute, the pain in her chest intensified, spreading maliciously to her throat, her belly.  Sweat broke out on her forehead even as she tried desperately to concentrate on what Mr. Zhou was saying. 

 

"He was part demon.  His body was strong enough to contain the connection.  But I'm sure he had difficulty with it as well."

 

They stopped at the steps leading up to the deck.  "Why does it have to hurt so much?" Cordy gasped, bending over and resting her hands on her knees.  Her breaths came in shallow pants, and sweat pooled at her hairline.  A clammy wave split over her and her mouth watered, the metallic taste nearly overwhelming. 

 

"Oh, no.  Gonna be..." she groaned.  She fell to her knees and vomited, her dinner coming up in a violent burst.  She whimpered, heaved again.  Sweat trickled down her temples.

 

Mr. Zhou knelt next to her, his hand cool and soothing on the back of her neck.  "Poor dear," he said, his voice soothing. "I know this must be uncomfortable for you."

 

Cordy groaned.  "Uncomfortable times a hundred," she panted.  "Try that and you're getting close."

 

Mr. Zhou patted her back comfortingly.  "This is all very normal, especially for a link as strong as yours.  Every day I am getting closer to a way of allowing you to live with this.  Until then, simply understanding it will make it easier on you." 

 

"It has to," she whimpered, sitting back on her heels and wrapping her arms around her waist.  She leaned her head against the stair rail.

 

"Are you feeling better?"

 

She breathed carefully as the nausea subsided, leaving behind a dull throbbing bruise in the center of her chest.  The ache pulsed with each beat of her heart.

 

"Angel," she whispered.  "I have to call him," she said, pushing her hair off her sweaty cheeks.  "I wish I had my cell phone."

 

"There's no coverage up here in any case, my dear."  He helped her to her feet and through the house.

 

"Land lines seem to work just fine at your neighbor's, though," she muttered. 

 

"Yes," he agreed.  Mr. Zhou opened the Blazer's door and helped her in.  He closed the door behind her, then rounded the hood and settled himself behind the steering wheel.  Cordy's head lolled against the headrest. 

 

She was silent as he pulled out of the garage, then eased the car down the dirt path and turned onto the gravel road.  As her stomach settled, she felt slightly more capable of conversation. "Why *don't* you have a phone, anyway?  You obviously don't mind technology," she said, remembering the titanium laptop on the kitchen desk.

 

"No, I just like my peace and quiet."

 

They hit a bump and Cordy rubbed her chest and winced.  "Don't you ever get lonely?  Don't you ever just wanna...reach out and touch someone?"

 

He glanced at her before returning his attention to the twisting road.  "Of course.  But it passes.  Besides, we're never really alone, you know."

 

Cordy squinted out the window at the tree trunks, the dark, chilly shadows of the forest undergrowth. "I feel really alone, a lot," she said.

 

"As you begin to understand the nature of your link, you will see that all is connected.  Nothing can exist by itself.  We are interdependent creatures, all of us."

 

"Can't exactly go out for pizza with a pine tree, though," she replied, touching her fingertips to the thin pane of glass separating her from the forest.

 

"No, but you don't have to drown your loneliness in television or meaningless relationships, either."

 

Cordy huffed and looked at him.  "I like being alone.  Just not all the time."

 

"Of course not," Mr. Zhou scoffed.  "Why would you?  You think, because I live alone, no phone, no TV, that I am a hermit?  Hardly.  Why do you think I have a house so big, a table that seats twelve?"

 

"I wondered about that."

 

"Besides clients, many people come and stay with me, often for months at a time.  I go to Sunnydale monthly to see Marcia.  I grocery shop in Fawnskin.  I am isolated by choice, Cordelia.  And my isolation feeds me, fuels me to do my work.  Work like I am doing with you takes an enormous amount of energy, you know."

 

Cordelia blinked.  "So this is your work?  Like your job?"

 

Mr. Zhou nodded.  "As you are a Seer, I am what you would call a shaman.  Since a child, I have walked between worlds."

 

"That must be freaky."

 

"Yes, to some.  To others, it is a lifeline.  A bridge between life and death."

 

"But...but...if it's a lifeline, how can you charge for it?  I mean, that just feels..." she waved her hand.  "I don't know.  We charge for what we do, but still.  Two-hundred-fifty-thousand dollars?"

 

He nodded.  "I understand.  It appears unseemly that I would place so high price on my abilities."

 

"Unseemly," Cordy repeated.  "That's a good word."

 

"There's a reason I charge the fee I do.  Part is self-preservation.  I only have a few clients in a decade.  But also because asking a fee like mine makes the relationship clean.  Any shaman who doesn't ask for money is charging you in some other way.  And it is equally costly, and usually not as pleasant."

 

"What do you mean, not as pleasant?  I can think of far more pleasant ways to spend a quarter-mil.  If I'd known Angel had that much money, we'd've been racking up points at Chanel months ago."

 

Mr. Zhou laughed as he steered the car carefully around a rut.  "I once met a man whose aura had been, as your computer people would say, hacked into.  He had entrusted himself to a shaman with less than honorable methods, and the shaman was extracting his payment by draining the man of energy.  The shaman grew more powerful, and the man grew weaker.  He was on the verge of death when I met him."

 

"Oh, my God," Cordelia gasped.  "Did you save him?"

 

"Yes, of course.  The shaman was very angry, though," he laughed.  "He didn't get his payment in full."

 

Cordy grinned.  "I hate when that happens."

 

"Who wouldn't?"

 

"Is that creep still out there?"  She could sic Angel on him, teach the man a real lesson.

 

"Oh, yes.  I run into him at certain functions.  We talk shop, compare notes."  He shrugged.  "Evil is unavoidable.  It's how you respond to it that makes living with it possible."

 

"Angel said the same thing after his epiphany."

 

"Your Angel keeps getting smarter."

 

"Yeah, well, he'd better be home.  I'd like him to get smart on those vamps."

 

They turned into the neighbor's driveway and Mr. Zhou tooted the horn. 

 

The door opened and Sally, the rancher's wife, stuck her head out the door.  "Oh, Martin, Cordelia.  Another vision?  My dear, you must come and use the phone," she said, stepping back to let them in.

 

Sally invited Mr. Zhou in for a drink after directing Cordy to the office for privacy.  The late afternoon sunlight slanted through the half-open blinds, striping the large oak desk.  Cordy leaned against the edge and reached for the phone, the ache in her chest turning hot. 

 

She had to talk to him.  Now. 

 

She dialed the hotel, then fiddled with the fountain pens in the penholder as the phone rang.  It was answered quickly. 

 

"Yo."

 

"Gunn?" Cordy asked, surprised. 

 

"Cordy?  Hey, y'all, it's Cordy!"  At Gunn's words, she heard Wes call her name in greeting as well, his voice warm and familiar.  A smile spread across her face.  Oh, God, she missed them.

 

"What's up?" Gunn asked.  Before she could answer, she heard a scuffle and Gunn's voice, abruptly muffled.  "No, wait, Angel, give the phone back," Gunn demanded.  "We weren't through talkin'."

 

"Tough," Angel responded.  Then, "Cordelia," he said, his voice as clear as if she were sitting right next to him.

 

"Yeah, hey."

 

"Are you okay?"

 

"I'm fine.  Just another vision."

 

"You're okay, though?" he asked.

 

His concern made her feel warm, safe.  "Yeah.  I'm fine.  You, however, have a job to do.  There's a nasty situation developing out near my apartment," she reported.  "Vamp nest.  Going after the early morning daycare drop-off tomorrow."

 

"Thanks for the heads-up," said Angel.

 

In the background, Cordelia could hear Wes and Gunn talking, the clank of metal on metal.  She wished she were there with them, steeped in their presence as they readied for patrol. 

 

"Yeah, if you guys don't get there, it'll be bad.  And you need to be extra careful.  It'll be close to sunrise," she said.  "I don't want to have to worry about you becoming a crispy critter."

 

"Don't worry about me, Cordelia.  Just take care of yourself."  There was a pause, more noise in the background, then silence, as if Gunn and Wes had left the room.

 

"How's Connor?"

 

She could almost hear Angel's smile.  "He's great.  He slept through the night for the first time."

 

"Good for him!  I'll bet that was strange for you, though."

 

"Yeah.  He's definitely his own little person."

 

"I miss him," Cordy said wistfully.

 

"Yeah," Angel said.

 

There was a moment of humming silence.  "Well, I should go," Cordy said, feeling like a high school girl who didn't want to hang up on her boyfriend.  She rolled her eyes at her goofiness, but the feeling didn't go away.

 

"Yeah, me too," Angel replied, his voice soft and even. 

 

Cordy twisted the cord around her finger, confused by the rush of need that flooded her.  "Okay, well," she said.  "Be careful."

 

"Cordy," Angel said, his voice nothing more than a whisper.

 

"Yeah?" she breathed.

 

There was a beat of silence.  Two.  "I miss you," he sighed.

 

Cordy felt a laugh, hot and joyful bubble up from her throat.  "Oh, God, Angel, I miss you too.  I thought it was just me."

 

"No, I mean, we all miss you.  But, I don't know, I just..." he trailed off.

 

Cordy sighed, the golden bubble of joy bursting and leaving behind a soft, happy glow.  "I know." 

 

The line went silent again.  "Be safe," Angel finally said.

 

"You too," Cordy replied, the words feeling inadequate.  "Talk to you soon?"

 

"You'd better," Angel declared.

 

Cordy's smile felt like the sunrise.  She hung up the phone and stood, staring across the desk, her eyes unfocused, her body soft. 

 

"Just four more weeks," she whispered. 

 

***

 

Cordelia woke sometime deep in the night, her room cloaked in darkness, the mosquito netting rippling softly in the chilly night air.  She lay still, listening to the silence, trying to figure out what had wakened her.

 

Nothing stirred in the house.  She wasn't thirsty and she didn't need to pee.  But something had nudged her awake. 

 

It was the moon, she realized.  It was full and bright, its silver rays casting a slant of light across the floor nearly as bright as a street lamp. 

 

Fascinated, got out of bed and stuck her foot in it.  She'd never seen moonlight like this, a purpled silver haze that illuminated everything it touched from the inside out.  It turned her skin an eerie violet, making the tracery of veins stand out against the paled flesh. 

 

She stepped all the way into the silver slant and let it wash over her body, feeling the kiss of the breeze on her skin and imagining that it was actually the moon's cool touch.

 

Outside the night birds called and the treetops sang their windy song.  Ignoring the chill, she padded onto the deck and leaned against the rail.  All sleepiness vanished as she saw, for the first time, just what Angel loved about the night.

 

It was softer, deeper than the day, a place where shadows ruled.  She stepped off the porch and onto the grass, feeling the cold tickle beneath her feet, and the dampness that would become frost by morning, collecting on the legs of her pajamas. 

 

She breathed the clean air deep into her lungs, letting it spread through her entire body.  Gooseflesh rose, sending a tingle over her skin.  It reminded her of brushing against Angel first thing in the morning, before he'd had a chance to collect heat.  It was comforting and a little scary.

 

The woods were so dark, like black velvet, and they pulled her irresistibly to them.  She slipped along the trail, kicking up dust.  It coiled around her ankles like a gray cat, soft and mysterious.

 

Trees towered over her now, and as she followed the path, she noticed the different texture of the shadows, the intricate weaving of leaves and branches.  Small animals scuffled in the bushes and somewhere far off an owl hooted. 

 

The forest was lit by silver, stained-glass patches of moonlight, a light so penetrating that it went places even the sun couldn't find.  She saw things that she missed during the day, despite the fact that she'd walked the path for nearly three weeks.  A rock shaped like a man's face; a tree with limbs that touched the ground like fingertips; a glowing column of light that became the space between two oddly bent trees. 

 

She inhaled, awestruck, as she realized that for the first time since high school she was out at night by herself, with no stake in her pocket and no warrior or Slayer to protect her.  And she felt perfectly safe. 

 

As the visions smoothed out and she opened herself to the energy behind them, her sense of being connected to the rest of the world expanded.  If there had been anything dangerous out here, she would have known it from the moment she stepped off the deck. 

 

Joy flashed through her and she ran, laughing wildly, meeting the breeze breath for breath.  Oh, it was so beautiful, and it made her miss Angel terribly. 

 

Even as she thought it, the link opened, sending its luxurious, sensual spell over her.  She exhaled with it, welcoming the erotic throb, courting it now like a surfer courted a wave.  Her mind opened with it, and she saw herself as if from above, a small, dark-haired woman, running joyfully through the night.

 

Then the link opened wider expanding with her desire to see.  Angel's suite came into her mind, its quiet masculine atmosphere as comforting as the moonlight.  It was empty now, but he would be home in a couple of hours.

 

She wanted to be there to see him come home that night; she wished she could travel in dreams the way Mr. Zhou could.  She would wait for him in his leather chair, sleeping lightly under the lambswool blanket. 

 

Being separated from him was like watching the moon disappear behind clouds.  She didn't understand why her feelings for him had changed; she had never needed him like this before.  Maybe absence did make the heart grow fonder.  She laughed again, rounding a wide curve and coming into a clearing.  The moon iced her hands as they pumped with each step, throwing a lavender shadow on the path next to her.

 

She jogged up the hill toward the house as the moon sailed overhead and the owls sang their call and response.  She understood the word holy now, and the word worship. She wanted to take Angel's hand and say, yes, now I understand.

 

Now I understand how some things live their entire lives at night.

 

***

 

A few evenings later, Cordy sat, bundled in a sweater, on the lawn between the deck and the forest.  She was trying to meditate.  She hadn't given up on it.  Yet. 

 

The words of the 23rd Psalm seemed to be working pretty well at keeping her focused.  They were easy to remember and actually sort of comforting once she got past feeling like a dork for meditating in the first place.

 

"I see you are experiencing more ease with the darkness," Mr. Zhou said, settling next to her on the grass.

 

Cordy opened her eyes and smiled.  "Yeah.  It's kinda weird.  The Hellmouth holds you hostage after awhile, you know?"

 

"Not just the Hellmouth," he said, plucking a blade of grass and holding it up to the moonlight to study.

 

"Nah, everything.  Gang-bangers, rapists, jeez, it gets to the point that just going outside takes balls."  She snickered.  "Sometimes, literally."

 

"Yes, it is more difficult for women than men in this respect," Mr. Zhou said, dropping the blade of grass and linking his fingers in his lap.  "But you will no longer need to worry about that, now that you have discovered the link."

 

"Really?"

 

"Of course.  Just close your eyes.  Let it lead you."

 

"Use the Force, Luke," she snickered. 

 

"As long as you don't call me Yoda," Zhou responded with a laugh.

 

"But back to the subject at hand.  If what you're saying is true, I should just be able to close my eyes and, what?  Walk around without tripping over anything?"

 

"Night creatures do it all the time, child.  They have sonar, night vision, sense of smell," he replied.  "One creature will call and another will respond, and in that way they will orient each other.  It's not so different than day-walking.  Strong light simply plays a smaller part."

 

"Cool," Cordy said, her curiosity piqued. 

 

Mr. Zhou pushed himself gracefully to his feet.  "I am going back to the house, now.  I just wanted to check on you."

 

"I'm great," said Cordy.  "Just hangin'."

 

Mr. Zhou patted her shoulder.  "Come in soon, my dear, you need your rest," he commented.

 

"All right," Cordy called as he disappeared.  "I won't be long." 

 

She closed her eyes again and tried to imagine what it would be like to navigate without vision.  Her ears began picking up on little sounds: rustlings in the bushes, the flutter of bird wings.  Her skin felt like it was blooming, soaking up the atmosphere: a dampness in the air, the brush of the breeze, the individual grass blades tickling her ankles. 

 

She stood, keeping her eyes closed, and took a cautious step.  The ground felt different this way, firmer, but she'd have to move really slowly so she didn't throw herself off balance.  She put her hands out in front of her and took another step, letting her ears and her skin become her guide. 

 

As she walked, she felt the grass become the soft dirt of the path, then the springy undergrowth of the forest.  Twigs snapped beneath her feet and tree roots rose out of the ground like hard ropes. 

 

Deciding to try an experiment, she rubbed her chest and took a breath, concentrating on the link.  It opened beautifully, like a window sliding upward, and flooded her with light and warmth.  She stopped as it permeated her body, and waited for its deep thrill to subside. 

 

Eyes still closed, she dropped her hands and let the link guide her through the woods. 

 

Through it she could see, not just in front of her, but all around.  She felt attached to thousands of silken cords, almost as if she were part of a web.  If she stepped one way, the web changed its pattern, and she could sense shapes like one would sense a shift in an energy field. 

 

Trees felt vibrant, alive.  The shockwave of their power rippled through her, causing a giggle to rise from her throat.  It was almost as if they were flirting with her, their branches tickling and nipping as she walked by.

 

Rocks were silent, stoic.  Their energy was lower, closer to the earth, more solid than the trees.  She moved carefully around the larger ones, brushing them with her fingertips as she passed.

 

Overhead a bird fluttered, its flapping wings startling her heart into a racing gallop.  She gasped, then laughed at herself.  The bird called, and another answered, and Cordy felt it reorient and fly in a new direction.

 

"Cool," she whispered, following the bird until she couldn't hear it any more. 

 

Is this what Angel feels, she wondered as she mapped a wandering path back to the house.  Connected to everything, open to everything.  Able to hear the smallest sound, sense the tiniest movement of the leaves, smell the dirt and the grass and the pine needles?

 

She knew his senses were far more honed than that, but using the link gave her a new appreciation for what he must feel, what he must know.  For nearly 250 years he'd had the highly developed senses of a predator.  How could he live with the intensity? 

 

And how could he stand to be around humans, who must seem plodding and dense?

 

The answer to that was clear: he'd give up eternity to become like her, human and fallible.  He'd give up the night vision, the heightened hearing, the crazy-intense ability to smell, just to feel his heart beat.  Just to sleep at night.  Just to die.

 

Cordy sighed and opened her eyes.  She was within sight of the house now, and the porch lights beckoned her to her bed.  Angel, dead, was a fear she faced every night.  Like the Slayer, all he needed was one bad fight, and he was gone. 

 

What would happen to the link, then?  Would it flicker, and go out?  Or would she be left with visions that had no warrior to fight them?

 

She stepped onto the deck, her tennis shoes slapping softly against the wood.  The bedroom doors were open, and she slipped in through the dark, her eyes adjusting quickly after the glare of the porch lights.

 

The bathroom floor was cool under her feet as she toed off her shoes.  She stripped off her flannel shirt and sweat pants and pulled on her silk pajamas.  The water was warm on her chilled skin.  She washed her face slowly, carefully, and moisturized.  Flossed and brushed.  Ran a brush through her hair.

 

She lay down on the bed, tucking herself under the covers and closed her eyes.  Sleep took her down, slowly and easily.

 

***

 

"I love you, Cordy," Angel crooned, running his lips over her neck, her jaw, her temples.  His eyes were golden, like a cat's.  His hands, so big, were all over her.

 

He drew her down and kissed her, his tongue finding hers through the fangs.  She pulled his tongue deeper into her mouth, swirling hers against it, not caring that his teeth were scraping her raw. 

 

Her eyes closed on a whimper.  So big, so hot, so good.  He caressed her breasts, pulling heat from her belly like strings of red fire.  Her nipples scorched against his open palm, and she cried out when she felt him slip his fingers into her overheated core.

 

She was slick with desire, her thighs damp against his hand.  The scent rose up in the room, warm and heady.

 

He growled, a sound of pure, male lust.  It was like a match dropped in a dry forest, pushing her already aroused system nearly to the breaking point. 

 

"Please," she whimpered.  "Angel, please."  She rolled them over and wrapped her legs around his waist. 

 

He rammed into her, pinning her hips against the mattress. 

 

"Oh, God," she moaned.

 

One thrust, two, she was already so close.  He found her mouth with his, and the touch of his lips, his teeth was all she needed. 

 

The orgasm erupted like a volcano, melting the hollow between her legs into a river of fire.   "Angel!" she screamed, her body jerking in ecstasy. 

 

"Yes," he hissed.  He grabbed her hips, held her steady as he jerked against her.  His body was steel-tight, his movements uncontrolled.  He buried his face in her neck, and with a sharp cry, emptied himself into her.

 

They lay, still connected, for several long heartbeats. Then Angel slid his hand up her, caressing her belly, her breasts, her lips.  "Amazing."  He pulled back, his face sweaty and pinker than she'd ever seen it, almost human.  His eyes were as bright as little suns.

 

"Yeah," she breathed. 

 

Angel scrubbed his hand over his face and it returned to normal.  He leaned over and kissed her again, this time gently, his tongue swiping out to soothe the scrapes his fangs had left.

 

"Hey," she said, a thought occurring to her.  "This doesn't mean Angelus is coming out to play does it?"

 

Angel stared off into space.  "Doesn't feel like it," he said after a long moment.

 

"Thank God," Cordy breathed.  "Wait, should I be insulted?"

 

Angel laughed.  "Hardly," he grinned.  The look he wore, a seductive mixture of awe, dark thrill and tenderness, made Cordy's insides quiver. 

 

He rolled them onto their sides and took her hand, bringing it to his lips.  Cordy's heart turned over in her chest.

 

"I bought something for you."  He reached over and pulled a small wooden box from the bedside table.  The inlaid jewels on the lid glinted in the dim light.

 

"The five most beautiful words on the planet."  Cordy sat up and took the box from his hand.  Her heart rushed when she saw the tiny, hand-carved silver cross resting on the bed of velvet.  It was about the size of her thumbnail, intricate and glowing and utterly feminine.  She pulled it out by its chain.

 

"It'll keep the big, bad vamps away," Angel said with a smile.

 

"Not all of them, I hope."  She put the cross on.  It nestled in the hollow of her throat. 

 

Angel put his fingertips on her neck, touching her pulse as it beat next to the charm.  "Beautiful," he breathed.

 

She leaned over and kissed him.

 

Cordy's eyes opened and the room came into focus.  "Oh, God," she groaned, pressing the heels of her hands against her eyelids.

 

She sat up.  "It was a dream, Cordy," she whispered.  "Another stupid dream."

 

But she'd never had a dream like that about Angel in all the years she'd known him.  Not one that left her craving him like a drug. That left her knowing how his hands felt, what he tasted like.  How it felt to have him inside of her....

 

She shook her head.  "Doesn't matter.  He's strictly no-bone, you know that."  She scrubbed her hands over her face, trying to get rid of the lingering wisps of desire.  "Don't waste your time on something that can never, ever happen." 

 

Her heart gave a painful, grieving twist.  She ignored it and closed her eyes, hoping she could go back to sleep. 

 

***

 

 PART THREE

 

 



| Fiction Index | Home Page | Back |