False Claims

Chapter Seventy One





Xander Harris was dead. His still body lay where it had fallen moments ago; blood puddled around him a grotesque testament to the wounds which had ravaged his young body.



As the crimson pool slid with fluid grace across the floor, Cordelia made her way towards her fallen friend and stood silent, staring intently at all that was left of the boy she'd once loved.



Looking past the gruesome sight her eyes were drawn to the dark figure across from her; blood still dripping from his hands. As one of those stained hands moved towards her she leaned forward to meet it half way. Grasping it firmly she brought the slickened digits to her mouth and ran her tongue sensuously across them to the sounds of both their moans.





Cordelia's heart stopped as her eyes flew open. She felt as if she was drowning in the darkness around her and tried desperately to pull air into her lung.



“Only a dream. Only a dream.” Her mind screamed at her in a futile attempt to stem the rising surge of panic that was so great it became a physical ache that beat at her chest. The images were so real that she swore she could taste the slight tang of copper on her tongue. Not knowing if she could stop her rolling stomach from heaving up it's contents, help came for her from an unexpected source.



“It's okay.”



The words were low and the voice was sleepy but the strong arms that pulled her closer calmed her body if not her mind.



“Don't worry, baby. It's okay. I'm right here.”



Despite the horror so fresh in her mind, the mystical forces at work in her life swirled around her and she began to slip back into the deep abyss of sleep. Her eyes slid shut once more leaving time for one last coherent thought.



‘That's the problem.’







Cordelia gazed at the weightless clouds moving languidly across the sky. When she was younger, like so many children, she'd tried to find entertaining shapes in their velvety hills and valleys. But today there were no happy forms only the freedom of the sky broken into lines of imprisonment by the bars of the windows.



Ever since her escape Cordelia hadn’t been allowed outside during daylight hours and never at night without Angelus at her side. But knowing that she would require some sunlight the vampire had found what he believed to be a reasonable compromise. And so here she sat in a large room with floor to ceiling panes of glass along one wall. Unlike the windows in the rest if the house the shutters and boards had been removed to allow bright streams of sunlight to spill onto the stone floor.



It would have been an almost enjoyable experience – bathing in the warm rays of the sun, except for the large iron rods that crisscrossed the windows to prevent even thoughts of escape. It wasn't as if they obscured the light or impeded its warmth, but it was a constant and stark reminder of her captivity. And though that thought was never far from her mind, the glaring evidence denied her even the transient illusion that this wasn't real.



Of course as she sat in a pool of golden light she acknowledged that even thoughts of confinement would be a relief from the images currently haunting her. Since she had awoken that morning nothing had been able to draw her mind from the horror of her previous night's dream. Terrifyingly real the gruesome images played through her head like a never ending movie. It wasn't the atrocities committed that were now overwhelming her, but rather her cavalier attitude toward the suffering and death that had permeated every vicious scene.



During their time in Los Angeles Cordelia had come perilously close to promising Angelus that she would stay with him; to using her presence as a bargaining chip to ensure the safety of those she cared for. But now she wondered if pledging herself to a life with the vampire would actually bring more danger to her family, her friends. What if her dream hadn't just been a reaction to the trauma of the last few months? What if instead it was a foreshadowing of things to come? Could it be that over time she would slowly become desensitized to the violence around her? Looking back she realized that the first few times she’d encountered the demons and various weirdness of the Hellmouth they had shocked and frightened her; but although common sense dictated that the fright still remained, the shock had long since worn off. Would that also be the case with Angelus; a slow acceptance of unparalleled death and destruction until it simply came to be another facet of everyday life?



Suddenly cold in spite of the sunlight surrounding her, Cordelia pulled her knees to her chest resting her cheek against them. Refusing to give into the tears filling her eyes she tried to empty her mind of thoughts about circumstances over which she seemed to have no control. She was so tired, but the fear of the darkness in her own mind kept sleep at bay and left her alone without comfort, without hope.







Chapter Seventy Two





Angelus tuned in occasionally to the monotonous droning of the minion before him on the seemingly remote chance that he said anything of import. It was indeed a difficult effort as there were far more tantalizing thoughts swirling through his mind and every one of them having to do with Cordelia.



Last night he'd been awakened by the miasma of terror filling the room. The scent had been irresistible but he found even greater pleasure in the absolute knowledge that he was in some way responsible for the horror that had spilled from Cordelia's very pores.



Whatever she'd been dreaming, and he had no doubts that she would refuse him the specifics of the contents, he knew that he had a leading role; and it pleased him to no end. Although he had been trying to woo her of late, he was what he was and whether she enjoyed or despised his presence the fact that she could not escape it even in slumber appealed to him on the most basic of levels. True, he wanted Cordelia's acceptance, her love but those were things that, eventually, she would have no choice but to grant to him. But this; carving himself into every sliver of her psyche satisfied his need to possess her in ways that spoke to the very fabric of his being.



And that was the thought that he'd held onto in the night as he'd let her slide back into slumber instead of bowing to his instincts; pulling her beneath him and pounding furiously into her as he made her recount every detail, every nuance of her nightmares. But his Machiavellian mind turning even when half awake he understood that the momentary pleasure of fucking her senseless while he drowned in her fear wasn't worth the progress he knew he'd been making with his stubborn pet.



And he was confident that his decision had been correct when she fell almost immediately into a deep sleep in his embrace. Whether she wanted to admit it or not Cordelia was coming to depend on him more and more for her emotional stability. And in the end that would be the harbinger of the demise of her independence as she would have no choice but to swear allegiance to him; the only constant in her strange and terrifying new world.







Chapter Seventy Three





Of all the things Giles had been forced to do in his life few had been as utterly unpleasant as the task before him promised to be. Searching the sleepy faces of the children seated around the large table of the library in the dead of night it pained him to see nearly identical expressions of wariness and a morbid sense of curiosity that one often found when driving past automobile accidents. Their weary eyes, so incongruous with their youth, brought home once again the terrible injustice that had befallen them.



Clearing his throat to allow himself one more moment to gather his courage and delay the inevitable Giles finally began realizing that his small comfort was purchased by the growing tension of his audience.



"I've recently been made aware of some quite distressing news that must be addressed immediately."



Looks becoming even more guarded, the slayer and her friends waited with dread blooming in their hearts for yet another tragedy to befall their small band of fighters.



"In spite of our beliefs to the contrary it seems that Cordelia never made it out of Sunnydale."



The gasps filling the room were drowned out by the scraping of chair legs against wood flooring as Xander leapt up, a terrible fury dawning on his face.



"What are you saying Giles? If Cordelia didn't leave where has she been all this time. Why hasn't she contacted us?"



Although he knew the logical answers to his questions he forced himself to ask them anyway in the hopes that he was wrong. He was still hurt and angry that he hadn't been given the chance to say good bye to the girl he'd come to care for so deeply. But to hear what he knew would be coming next – well he wasn't sure he could bear that. He'd tried for so long to be strong, for Buffy, for Willow, for his beautiful Cordelia, but he wasn't sure that he could take anymore. He was tired of being a pillar of dependability, tired of being the shoulder to cry on; he was just...tired.



He cared so much about Buffy, he wanted her to be happy, to smile again, but lately there were more and more days where he hated the very sight of her. And more and more he hated himself for feeling that way. But he was helpless against the emotions that crashed into him over and over, each day finding them stronger than the day before.



Yes, Buffy lost Angel. Yes, it was a devastating tragedy for her. But he'd lost something too; something far more precious than a filthy demon with a tainted soul. And although he sympathized with the sense of loss she felt it was growing harder to suppress the feeling that if she'd done something before this – stayed away from the vampire, killed him when he'd first turned evil, protected those around her weaker than herself, then Cordelia would still be here. She'd still be the snarky, sparkling young woman who'd inexplicably brightened his life instead of the withdrawn and terrorized victim she'd been when last he'd seen her.



At the most basic core of his personality Xander Harris was loyalty made flesh; and so, within him now, the feelings of betrayal and friendship warred inside him. Every instinct within him called for him to stand beside his friend as he'd done since she'd come into his life. And yet he knew that if Giles gave him the answers he feared, the answers he'd do anything to shape to soothe his terrible fears, then he wouldn't be able to be the one to comfort the slayer, to be a shelter from her reeling emotions. If the man before him said the words he knew, deep in the darkest recesses of his heart were imminent then he would break, maybe irreparably, and he would have nothing to give to Buffy because there would simply be nothing left of him.



"I'm sorry Xander."



Knees buckling he fell to the ground as the words washed over him and his soul cracked.. He knew without explanation what those words meant. All that time that they'd though Cordelia was safe, that she was somewhere far away free of the horror that had become her life, she'd been within mere miles of them, trapped with the source of all of her nightmares.



"How?" The voice was low and harsh as the words struggled to leave his constricted throat. "How could we not know? How do we know now?"



"Spike."



"What?!"



This time it was Buffy who was asking the questions.



Heaving a sigh that spoke of long suffering Giles prepared to try to explain everything at once to avoid the constant interruptions that would only prolong this miserable experience.



"Last night Spike came to see me. Please," Giles hand rose to halt the slew of questions perched on every tongue. "I would prefer to get through this and then we can address any queries."



"Spike wanted us to know that Cordelia never even made it out of town, that she'd been with Angelus since that first day."



Purposely blinding himself to the anguished expressions he pushed on.



"He relayed to me the address at which Cordelia was being held and the fact that Angelus took Cordelia out of town over the weekend and would not be back until today making moot any rescue effort until now."



"I want to make it perfectly clear that Spike's motives in revealing these things to us were in no way altruistic and indeed the information came with a price. Spike is going to insure that Drusilla is a non-issue in the fight that is certain to ensue upon our arrival and in return I agreed to let the both of them leave the Hellmouth unscathed."



At the appalled look on the children's faces Giles clarified his position.



"I want to be absolutely clear about this. Cordelia is our first and only priority. I don't care if we have to let every vampire, demon, and minion go free, rescuing her is worth any sacrifice."



Xander rose to his feet nodding in approval of the watcher's words. Finally he felt in sync with someone on a plan of action. At last somebody agreed with him that nothing in this situation took precedence over Cordelia's safety. It was a good feeling; empowering and he savored it knowing that no matter how reluctant Buffy might be to confront Angelus she would do as Giles said.



Resuming his seat, Xander leaned forward eager as hope surged through him for the first time in months.



"So, what's the plan?"



"We go in today at 3:00..."







Chapter Seventy Four





Spike gazed down at Drusilla's serene face. It had been beyond easy to remove her from the equation regarding the upcoming fight between Angelus and the White Hats. Since no one knew about his return to health there would be no suspicion about the special powder he'd procured to knock his beloved out for what was promised to him would be almost an entire day.



Being prepared for either party to win Spike knew that should Angelus be victorious he could merely explain Dru's absence as the result of one of her many spells. Drusilla was as viscous as vampires come, but there had always been a delicacy about her from the moment she was turned. It's why she had been so damaged in Prague and it was why her sire would have no choice but to believe that she had truly been incapable of assisting him. After all, it was Angelus who had been responsible for her...peculiarities in the first place.



Satisfied with his plans Spike was content to sit and wait, finding himself in the unfamiliar and somewhat surreal position of actually cheering a slayer onto victory rather than planning her defeat.







Something flitted over Angelus' sleep drugged mind. It was quiet, barely there even, but it niggled at him until it forced his heavy eyelids open. Concentrating he heard nothing out of the ordinary and was soon distracted by the gentle rising and falling of Cordelia's chest that pressed her lush breasts against him so delightfully. Just as he was about to wake her and satisfy the need she was stirring within him the elusive noise returned, only this time it was louder and much clearer – the slayer.



Low growls interspersed with harsh obscenities broke the silence in the room as he threw on his pants and ran from the room. Exhausted from hours upon hours of unparalleled passion Cordelia's only response was to roll over into the empty space that had been previously filled by her lover and slip further into sleep.



Rushing down the stairs Angelus could hear the clash of weapons as the endeavor to steal away his pet got underway. It's not that the attempt wasn't expected, it's just that he hadn't expected it so soon. As far as he knew the slayer and her little gang were still under the impression that Cordelia had left town in an effort to evade his reach. While a small part of him wondered how they had learned of her presence in town and the location where they currently resided, the majority of him was completely enraged that anyone, especially the second-rate slayer would try to steal Cordelia from him; to part him from his beloved Moonbeam. With a roar that shook the boarded windows Angelus burst into the vast living room and threw himself into the fray.



Green eyes clashed with gold as Buffy saw Angelus' entrance. With graceful, fluid movements she maneuvered herself in between the incensed vampire and her friends. Their plan had been simple – strike while the iron was hot before Angelus got wind that they knew where he was, where Cordelia was. They attacked during the daylight, a plan with both advantages and drawbacks.



It was a given that they would encounter greater resistance in the form of Angelus' minions who would be confined to the house during the day. But although the numbers would be against them they would have the benefit of an invaluable ally – sunlight. Not only would they be able to thin out some of the minions by stripping the windows of protection, a task being seen to by Willow and Jenny the latter who had been called into service around dawn as battle plans were being made, but it would also create a safe escape route preventing a lengthy and dangerous pursuit by the vampires left unharmed.



Angelus' lips curled in a cold mockery of a smile as the slayer deftly avoided his first blow. Knowing it would take more than physical strength to defeat this opponent he began to attack Buffy where he knew her mystical abilities would not protect her.



"So, this is the grand rescue effort, eh Buff? Come to save Cordelia? How noble. Or is it?"



Buffy's confusion at his words cost her as she slowed down just a fraction of a second and Angelus clipped her side with a spinning kick. Pushing herself back into a fighting stance she tried to screen out his voice, but even the knowledge of his intentions was not a sufficient defense against his tactics.



"Maybe it's not that you want to save Cordelia as much as it kills you to know that I've finally found a real woman to loose myself in, to fill myself with, to love."



It was the last one that struck Buffy harder than any physical blow could. He sounded so sincere that she was compelled to respond even though the logical part of her brain screamed at her that she was playing directly into his hands.



"Demons can't love."



Her voice was shaky, but it carried a desperate conviction that marked it unmistakably as a mantra she had repeated often, most likely in the dead of night as she cried herself to sleep.



With that pleasant thought in his head Angelus took another swing at the girl, missing with his fist but connecting with his words.



"Demons can't love you. And honestly Buffy, don't flatter yourself that it's because you're the slayer. It's simply because you're a bland and lackluster example of humanity who, if you weren't by some cosmic accident the slayer, would be nothing but an obscure blur on the periphery of existence."



"I couldn't love you for the same reason that Angel, despite his redemption driven declarations, couldn't. Because there is no you to love. You whine endlessly about the burden of being the slayer, but really, if you didn't have that what would you be? You'd be nothing; nobody. You'd be a pathetic waste of space completely alone and utterly unloved.



Angelus laughed as Buffy struck out in a clumsy attack that was easily avoided and then successfully countered.



"Come now Buffy, there's no reason to shoot the messenger. Let's look at the evidence. You have Giles, who only gives you the time of day because he swore an oath to help the slayer. Then there was Angel, who we've already established wanted to be with you because it gave his life purpose, not because of any quality you might posses."



Another thrust thrown and answered sent the slayer staggering back and into the edge of the stone fireplace.



"Let's see; Xander and Willow? Don't kid yourself that they care about your friendship. No, they were stuck in there boring, invisible lives until you came along and allowed them to fasten on to your slayerhood to give them even a smidgen of identity."



"Of course there's your mom. She adores you right? She spends time with you, even uprooted her entire life to bring you to Sunnydale. How sweet, so much love."



"But wait." He caught the punch streaking towards his face and twisted her around throwing her once more against the stone mantle. "You're mom only started this bonding kick, this concern for your well being once you started getting into trouble while pursuing your "destiny". It always comes back to that doesn't it, Buff. In the end it's always about the slayer never about the girl. After all, think about the one person in your life who knows nothing about your secret identity or the fall out – daddy dearest."



Her anger creating bursts of adrenaline, Buffy was able to slam a foot into Angelus' chest sending the taunting vampire back several feet.



Chuckling as if the lucky hit was of no consequence he continued with his cruel diatribe.



"Your dad has no clue that your the slayer. Not even the hints that your mother must be too blind or too stupid too see. And so truly he's the only person in your life that deals with Buffy Summers the person and not Buffy Summers the slayer. He alone is the measure of your worth as a individual. And how does he see you? Oh, that's right, he doesn't. No, the one person who is completely ignorant of your staus as the chosen one wants nothing to do with you. Your own father can't stand to waste his time with such a little nobody. He's probably embarrassed that his genes produced a disappointing nothing as yourself."



Tears blurred Buffy's vision but hate drove her forward, her emotional agony forcing her to take the offensive no matter that she knew it was what the bastard before her wanted.



"So of course your threatened by someone as amazing, as absolutely, perfectly breathtaking as Cordelia. You need so desperately to believe that I can't love because then you won't have to acknowledge that she's everything that you'll never be and more." With little difficulty he sidestepped both the powerful blows aimed his way and the uncovered windows and continued his verbal annihilation of the young slayer.



"She fits me so perfectly. But not just her body, Buffy. No, it's all of her; her heart, her soul, her mind, every part of her is as enchanting as you are insipid. She brings me the kind of joy that you could only give someone by leaving a room."



Finally seeing a flaw in his argument Buffy smirked at him lashing out with her own taunt.



"For all your endless blathering I think you're forgetting something – I gave Angel perfect happiness."



Expecting her barb to wound she was taken aback by the genuine laughter that filled the air around them.



"Oh please slayer; before he came to Sunnydale the soul had lived in sewer eating filthy rats to exist. Talk about someone with low expectations of life. Honestly, a decent bottle of hair gel was practically enough to give him the big happy. Angel wallowed in hatred of who he was and punished himself endlessly for things he could never change. His life was sad and pathetic and nothing but an endless attempt to pay for my illustrious past with his useless suffering. You weren't some light in his darkness. You were just a convenient focus. You weren't special and the only thing he cared about was what you are not who you are. It wasn't your heart or your soul he cared about that night. It was about fucking a slayer so he could believe he wasn't the dismal piece of shit that he was. 'Cause if you really give it some thought he never got that elusive bliss from "loving" you. No, he only got it by screwing you."



Catching her with a vicious backhand Angelus glanced around the room. Unblocking the windows had had the desired results and he could see the ashes of many of his minions drifting gently to the floor in the golden rays. But where the vampires had failed his human servants had stepped in and their ability to fight regardless of the light was slowly turning the tide in his favor.



Although, sadly, none of the slayer's gang were dead, there were various injuries among them; most notably Harris and the watcher. The moron seem to sway slightly as blood streamed from a nasty but most likely superficial cut on his head, and good old Rupert appeared to be favoring one side probably do to a cracked rib or two.



It was clear to both the vampire and the slayer that this round went to the home team and a swift retreat was called for. Although loathe to leave without their imprisoned friend they would be of no help to her if they were slowly picked off in this unwinable battle.



Seeing Buffy catch her watcher's eyes and signal a withdrawal Angelus couldn't resist on last turn of the emotional blade.



"You know, slayer, if you'd only gotten here a few minutes sooner you could have seen first hand how much Cordelia pleases me." A look of unmeasurable lust crossed his face at the thought as his features shifted back to the hauntingly familiar visage of "her Angel". "Of course, if you stay a few minutes longer you'll see the same thing."



Smiling as his final words hit their mark he watched as Buffy cleared a path through his minions and servants alike practically throwing her friends into the relative safety of the sunlight before urging them to flee the humans who could follow and hurt them.



As they disappeared from his sight a burning fury swept through him at the thought of what they had intended to do, what they had intended to take from him. Choking on the rage sheeting off of him in waves he left the clean up to those still capable of standing and spun towards the stairs, leaping over the steps in two large bounds.



Although the door to their room was not locked Angelus shattered the wood with one powerful kick causing a boom to echo off of the stone walls and causing the sleeping young woman to jerk violently into wakefulness.



Before her head had cleared enough to even take in her surroundings she was pinned against the mattress by a large and livid vampire whose flaming eyes and lethal teeth ignited a terror in her that consumed all rational thought.



Grasping her arms tight enough to bruise, Angelus began to shake the girl below him as his fury poured over her.



"You will not leave me! I will never let you leave me! Do you understand me Cordelia?"



Caught in the vulnerable state of semi-wakefulness and completely at a loss for any explanation for what was happening all Cordelia could do was shake with fear as she slowly slid into shock at the picture above her of a seemingly berserk vampire in the grips of a terrifying rage and spattered with smears of blood.



Getting no response the out of control vampire shook her again until she looked as if she'd be physically ill but awareness returned to her eyes. Leaning down 'til his face was nearly touching hers his dark voice caressed her skin as they painted in her mind a horrifyingly monstrous picture.



"Do you know what I'd do if you tried to leave me, Cordelia? Can you even begin to imagine?"



"I'd gather all your friends, all your loved ones, anyone for whom you've ever had even the most fleeting thoughts of care and I'd dispose of them one by one. Oh, not a quick death. No, there'd be no mercy for even the least loved amongst them."



"I'd start at the bottom and work my way up. Do you know how many bones rest in the human foot? 26. 26 bones, Cordelia and I'd remove every one. I'd slowly cut through the skin and muscles, peeling them back until my objective was revealed. Then one by one I'd pull them out tearing of the ligaments linking them and tossing them to the floor so they could watch the pile grow as we progress."



"Providing they'd retained consciousness, and I am an expert at keeping my playmates awake, we'd make our way up the leg. How far do you think we could get before blood loss or shock got 'em? I think if I really applied myself I could at least manage to get a hip out."



"We could make it more interesting you know. We could try to figure out before hand who the bleeders would be and who had the weak hearts. I'm betting Giles would last until every last drop of blood flowed out of his veins. But Willow? I think little Willow probably wouldn't survive the first three toes. She strikes me as kind of fragile that way."



"And you'll be there for it all. Every slash, every tear all for your eyes. Every piercing shriek of pain, every anguished plea to stop all for your ears. Every precious moment of hideous agony all because of you, all that blood staining your uncaring hands."



Pressing closer his lips moved to her ear filling her head with his whispered yet unalterable demand.



"Tell me you won't leave me, Cordelia."



Unable to grasp what had precipitated this grisly trek into violent insanity, Cordelia was unable to string together a coherent thought much less express one. Hysteria devoured her and her gasping sobs caused almost convulsive tremors to roll through her body.



Shaking her again until her head snapped back and forth uncontrollably Angelus bit out his demand for her absolute attention, for her answer.



"Tell me! Swear to me you'll stay. Do you want them all to suffer? Do you want to see the floors run red as their life spills from the gaping holes I tear in their battered bodies? Answer me?!"



The last was a roar and it snapped Cordelia from her mute dread and propelled her into almost incoherent appeasement.



"I won't. I won't leave. I-I swear, I'll never leave you, I'll never go. I'll stay just don't – don't -"



Forcing the words out between great, gasping sobs was causing a panic induced hyperventilation that was quickly depriving her of oxygen even as her terror was closing her throat.



Seeing both the truth of her words and the immense depth of her fright Angelus was more than satisfied. Easing to the side he pulled the petrified girl into a gentle embrace and began rubbing his hands in soothing circles on her back.



"Shhh, Cordelia. Shhh." A soft rocking motion accompanied his tender words. "Hush, baby; you'll make yourself sick. It's okay now. You're not leaving so everything will be okay."



With light caresses and soothing words Angelus finally managed to calm the traumatized girl into a restless sleep as tears continued to slowly slipped from closed eyes.







Chapter Seventy Five





Spike stretched out his body, cramped from hours in that damned chair, onto the bed. Things hadn't gone the way he'd hoped, but he had no doubts that now that the slayer and her little gang knew about Cor's whereabouts the wouldn't rest until they retrieved her. So no matter how it played out it would cause nothing but trouble for Angelus. And honestly, if he couldn't have the slayer eliminate his grandsire then having her keep him completely occupied was the next best thing. With his strength almost fully returned Spike was at a point where he could make the most of Angelus' distraction and maybe take a more direct hand in the bastard's demise.



Although he had no trouble hating his grandsire in light of his recent actions, it was another thing all together to be able to kill him. Killing your sire did happen in the vampire world, but it was extremely rare as their particular form of demon just wasn’t wired that way. That was truly why the demons who bought all that bullshit about Angelus never really having the soul were so impressed that he had killed Darla. Being able to increase one’s power at the expense of their own biological imperatives would definitely demonstrate the type of leadership that demons valued above al else.



So once again Angelus came out on top and it set Spike’s teeth on edge. But every insult, every injustice he hoarded to himself letting his hatred blossom and grow. He might not be able to destroy the older vampire yet but it was only a matter of time until Angelus pushed him beyond all reason and Spike was going to make damn sure that he’d be ready.







Angelus closed his eyes savoring the feel of the warm body pressed up against him. Every once in a while Cordelia would make some small noise, a remnant of her journey into hysteria that would bring a slight smile to his lips.



He wasn't a vampire who entertained self doubts. Whether he was planning his actions with care or flying by the seat of his pants he went with his instincts and stood behind his decisions supremely confident in his ability to deal with the consequences of his choices.



However, he was also a very practical and realistic demon and he understood the value of being able to adjust one's actions midstream should the circumstances dictate. Today had been such a situation. The arrival of the slayer had been a definite shock and it added to the growing list of questions he was planning to have answered very soon, chief among which were – How did the slayer find out he had Cordelia? How did they know where he was keeping her? Where the hell was Drusilla when all this was going on? Angelus didn't car for coincidence unless it was working in his favor and too many of the day's events had seemed a bit to engineered for his taste.



But once his nagging suspicions had been laid to rest he would have to admit that the rest of the happenings had worked out far better for him than his original course of action had been. For weeks now he had been trying to slowly woo Cordelia into giving him her word that she would stay. And although he knew that he had been getting closer there seemed to be something that was holding her back and he had a feeling he might not have been able to overcome it for months and months. And while he certainly had the time and didn't mind the effort, the fact was that Cordelia was too smart and too cunning to be left to her own devices without being bound by her word to remain with him. He had no illusions that the security measures that he had put in place would only hold her temporarily until her clever mind found the one imperfection in his design and ruthlessly exploited it.



Although he knew that he was taking a chance by moving carefully with her, trying to win her allegiance rather than demanding it, he felt that in the long run it would make her transition into his world that much easier. And there was a part of him that believed that her loyalty, freely given would be that much sweeter. Well he'd learned that afternoon that belief was well and truly unfounded.



He had, mere hours before, finally received Cordelia's solemn oath to remain with him. It wasn't a promise based on love or affection. It wasn't a vow given on the crest of unprecedented need. No, it was a guarantee ripped from her soul by a panic so immense it stole away her ability to breath. And after it had been given he realized one simple fact – it was the same destination regardless of the path traveled. He'd gotten what he'd wanted and he'd be damned if he was going to be anything other than satisfied about it. Now that he could relax a little he'd be able to go back to showing Cordelia the benefits of their union.



Of course something would have to be done about the slayer. He'd been loathe to finish Buffy off this early in their little game. Especially because, as Cordelia had told the A'toreal clan, having a slayer around that couldn't bring herself to kill him was certainly preferable to one who had no compunction about pursuing his ultimate demise. Not that they'd be able to, but it was certainly more hassle than it was worth.



Besides, he loved tearing out Buffy's heart and crushing it right before her tearful eyes. And the greatest thing about it was that it worked anew every time. One would think that eventually the girl would build up a barrier, like layers on a callous, to protect herself. But instead every thrust of the knife cut as deeply as the first.



It was funny how diametrically opposed were the women of the demon and the soul. While Buffy was an open book on whose pages anyone could leave their mark, Cordelia was a builder of nearly impenetrable walls. Instead of experiencing pain but still believing in the ultimate goodness of every human and thus leaving herself open to the same hurt all over again as Buffy did, Cordelia processed painful situations immediately and assimilated and applied what she'd learned in an effort to protect herself from that particular harm again. And for different reasons he wouldn't change either woman.



He wouldn't alter Cordelia because even though he was slowly having to break down all those layers of self protection, it created an effort that gave value to the end result. If a person gave their trust unreservedly to all those around them then what made it special to receive? Nothing. Faith freely given is a reflection of the giver. However, if a person hoarded their trust giving it out to only those few whom they deemed worthy, then it meant something completely different for faith earned was a commentary on the receiver.



It was, in the end, the challenge that dictated the value in Angelus' eyes and the challenge Cordelia presented was endlessly fascinating and worthy of pursuit.



And as much as he respected Cordelia's wary spirit he appreciated Buffy's open nature. The slayer's ability to believe, to open her heart completely to those around her over and over made her an endless joy to hurt. She was like a child who wouldn't learn that fire burns and so continuously places her hand on a burning stove. No matter what he said to her, no matter what he did, every time she saw him she convinced herself that this would be the time that he'd finally be Angel for her. It made shattering her illusions all the more pleasurable. Watching her heart splinter a little more each time they faced each other and then seeing her approaching him again with it still on her sleeve tickled him. And now that the time of her impending death was at hand he found that he was going to miss that fractured pain in her eyes as he took one more thing that was precious to her and pointed out how it was wrong, a lie, or something of which she was completely unworthy. Still, it was hardly a fair battle when only one opponent had the mental acuity to fight. Playing mind games with the slayer was somewhat like hunting the elderly; not difficult but hardly a pastime of sustainable interest.



Of course that didn't mean that her death had to be swift or ordinary. The plans he had for her demise were neither. Angelus had worried for a time over how and when to dispose of the people in Cordelia's life. He had held off simply because he had wanted their bond to expand to a point that she wouldn't be able to resist her feelings for him regardless of his actions. He hadn't counted on her wondrously stubborn nature. But the happenings of the day had resolved that little dilemma for him.



The absolute, unrestrained fear and revulsion in Cordelia's eyes when he'd described how he planned to kill everyone she knew if she didn't voluntarily bind herself to him was genuine in every way. The graphic images he'd left in her mind would haunt her for years to come. It was the kind of trauma that the human brain was hard pressed to reconcile and brush off. And because those images would retain such a sharp focus in her mind, he knew that when he snapped the necks of the slayer and her little friends, while a part of Cordelia would writhe in grief and agony over their deaths, another part of her that on a conscious level she probably wouldn’t even acknowledge would rejoice at the quick and painless end to their lives instead of the horrific end she had expected for them all.



Of course, just because they wouldn't suffer didn't mean they wouldn't suffer. While Cordelia would concentrate most on the external in relationship to the death of her friends, Angelus knew far better than most that it's often the internal that causes the greatest pain. The deaths he had begun planning, while all physically quick and painless would be designed to create a crescendo of agony that would crash down upon the slayer tearing her soul asunder before he relieved her of all worldly cares.



It would begin with Harris. Angelus had never bothered to try to hide the fact that he hated the boy. He'd hated him as Angel and loosing his humanity had certainly done nothing to improve the boy in his eyes. Add to that that he had touched Cordelia, had felt her love and he knew that when the deaths began Xander's would have to be first. If he didn't do it quickly and get it out of the way he was afraid he wouldn't be able to stop himself from torturing the boy for days in ways that would test the stomach of even other demons.



Besides, Xander's death would be the first step in the emotional destruction of the slayer; because one thing was as absolute as night following day – If Xander died Willow would never forgive Buffy for not killing him when she had the chance.



And so, with one death he would rob the slayer of the only two friends she had, and worse would be the crushing condemnation in gentle Willow's eyes that would constantly remind the slayer that the responsibility for all of the loss rested solely on her shoulders.



Next would come Willows death. Short and sweet it would add one more impossibly heavy brick of guilt to the load Buffy was already carrying and it would devastate Jenny, the young woman's mentor. Jenny would try not to but she wouldn't be able to help but lay Willow's death at Buffy's door. This would chip away a little more at Buffy's support and the friction between the teacher and the watcher would further erode any sense of normalcy in the slayer's little world.



After an appropriate amount of time to let the tension beat away at them Jenny would be next. Her neck snapped like the others, he'd probably leave her at Rupert's place just to defile one more bastion of safety for the remaining duo.



Rupert Giles was a man of great responsibilities, some given to him some he'd taken upon himself. It was clear to see even to a demon such as himself, that the stoic watcher felt that the safety of everyone he allowed into the sphere of his slayer was his duty to guard. Loosing all of his charges and the woman that he loved would be crushing for the man he was.



And better yet was that knowing that all those lives had been wasted because Buffy had been unwilling to preform her sacred obligations and he had been unwilling to push her to would cause him to resent both himself and her. And no matter how much he believed that he should be there for his slayer he wouldn't be able to help but to pull away from her emotionally. The loss of approval from her surrogate father when she had never really recovered from that loss with her biological father would be far more painful and damaging than any physical injury Angelus could impart.



And when the salt had rubbed itself fully into her wounded soul Giles would be taken next. And there would be Buffy with nothing and no one but the ghosts of those she'd failed to protect screaming in her head that she was the author of every abysmal fate, that she alone had sentenced those she had claimed to love to death. And when he saw that final fissure in the ruins of her soul he'd end her short and pointless life with one abrupt twist.



And when Cordelia heard of the deaths, when he decided to let her know, the fact that they were nothing like the elaborate productions she had created in her mind would instill an unwanted and yet profound sense of gratitude within her that would accomplish both his goals of eliminating the slayer's ragtag band and causing the least amount of distance between his beloved pet and himself.



So at the close of it all Buffy would end much like it was said of the world, not with a bang but a whimper; for she wouldn't die out of any sense of personal hatred or revenge, but rather because she was predictable and boring and completely undeserving of any longterm commitment of his time, and every minute she lived was a minute that she threatened his claim on the one woman who was her complete and polar opposite.







Chapter Seventy Six





Buffy wasn't angry. She had been, she remembered the feeling, but it was a distant memory and not one with which she could form any emotional connection. Now all she was was numb. Finally, since that beautiful and hideous night of her birthday she was able to grasp the elusive truth that had hung for so long just on the edge of her vision like the whispers of a dream you can't recapture.



Angel wasn't coming back.



If she could feel anything she believed that thought would have killed her. But in her current state it wasn't distressing, it simply was. He wasn't coming back and any decent thing about him had been lost, taken with his soul as it fled his body.



Now that she could see the idea, now that she had turned it over in her mind and studied it's cold and rigid contours, all that was left was to decide what to do with it. And really, what else was there to do? She had to kill Angelus.



The day before that admission would have made her heart shatter into a million tiny pieces, but now, strangely it didn't. With a serene detachment Buffy wondered if there was no breakage because the vampire who had crushed it earlier that day had forgotten to return it, even in its twisted and battered form.



A part of Buffy understood that this complete anesthetizing of her entire being was the result of vasts amounts of both physical and mental stress combine with a devastating case of shock and that, more importantly it wouldn’t last. But she couldn't find it in herself to either fight or regret the emotional state in which she found herself. For the first time in months she was able to see beyond the pain crowding into her and gaze upon the world at large with a crystal clarity that she'd never had until she had finally been able to remove her own thoughts and feelings from tinting reality to the shade that best suited her.



A small voice caught her attention and her head turned of its own accord towards the source of the quiet words.



"So what do we do now?"



Willow, although sharing the despondency of her friends at the failed rescue was nonetheless a devout optimist. Like her belief in her role as peacemaker she often felt the need to smooth out distressing situations. Her parents would most likely tell her that it was an unhealthy need that was quite codependent in nature and honestly, they'd probably be right. But since she was the one who spent the day fighting vampires because her best friend's ex-boyfriend lost his soul and kidnapped her other best friend's ex-girlfriend then she figured she deserved to indulge in whatever neurosis was going to get her through the next five minutes without a complete and utter melt down.



Fingering the bandage on his head, Xander added his reluctant two cents, not wanting to say the words for fear that it would lay to rest their rescue effort.



"Yeah, I guess we kinda blew the element of surprise. By the time we recoup, regroup, and redesign a plan of attack they'll certainly be expecting us."



"Then that leaves us only the unexpected."



Giles and Jenny exchanged worried looks at Buffy's voice, so cold and devoid of emotion. Even though they had both been busy during the fight Angelus' taunts were not so quiet that they went completely unheard. They knew that, no matter how often it had been explained to her that Angel was truly gone she hadn't been able to abandon that last sliver of hope. And although it finally seemed that she had crossed that last hurtle it was so disconcerting that on some level both adults almost wished for the return of her denial.



"We're going back tonight."



Yes, the denial was certainly looking good.





TBC...If at First You Don't Succeed