The Soulmate Series

Giving Chase (Chapter Forty-One of Soulmates)


Willow’s footsteps fade into nothingness as Angel hears the sound of her bedroom door closing. She’s not hiding on the stairs just out of sight, no eavesdropper she. She’s a good girl, his good girl, and he enjoys one more piece of evidence of that purity of spirit which seems to live in even the hollows of her bones.

Such stark contrast to the girl standing before him right now. Willow may be buying this new and improved Cordelia Chase, but Angel does not share his love’s naivete. No, the girl has an agenda. She’s not initiating this tete a tete out of any genuine concern for her boy toy’s best friend. She’s looking for weapons, for something she can use to make trouble. All that remains is to see what her tactics are and just what, exactly, she thinks she already knows.

“You know, Angel, I can see what’s really going on here.”

“What do you mean?” He’s affecting the pain-filled expression and slumped shoulders of old - the brooding, regretful monster filled with self-loathing. She’ll buy it. Everyone else does.

Arms akimbo, weight shifted to her left leg, she seems a bit exasperated with him. He’s not entirely certain why that is, since he can’t imagine a scenario where she’s not as easily convinced that centuries in hell and a soul returned in far different fashion did nothing to change him as everyone else. Whatever the reason, however, something has her in a snit. “Look, I would love to stand here and play Twenty Questions with you and watch you pretend you have no idea what I’m talking about, but I have things to do. Important things. So can we just cut to the part where you admit that you’ve been mooning over Willow for months now and get on with it?”

Her words aren’t entirely unexpected. Angel had a hunch this was going to be the topic of conversation, though he is somewhat shocked that she’s noticed his affection for Willow for as long as she has, not the least because it means she didn’t simply tumble luckily into a correct deduction, as he’d been ready to assume. Cordelia Chase not only has eyes, but uses them. Well, well. Will wonders never cease?

Of course, he still has a part to play. He’s not letting her call his bluff ‘til he knows for sure that she herself isn’t bluffing. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He amps up the torment in his expression - vintage pre-Hell Angel, circa the “Buffy’s lapdog” era. “I’m here because...”

“Save it, okay?” She checks her watch, and Angel wonders if she realizes that he heard her mentioning just what it is she’s off to do today. “I realize that most people can’t tell the difference between you brooding over Buffy and you brooding over Willow, but I’m not most people. I can tell you’ve had the hots for Willow since about the time she got raped, which by the way, I figure you have to know about since Buffy would never have kept it from you whether Willow asked her to or not.

“It makes sense, I suppose, since you’ve got this ‘thing’ about playing the white knight and another ‘thing’ for damaged women. But I’m here to tell you to leave Willow alone. She doesn’t need the Slayer’s vampire ex-boyfriend chasing after her right now.”

His response is guarded, a way to check the lay of the land. “I would never hurt Willow.”

Exasperation again. “Look, I don’t know if you realize this, but despite your good intentions, you have a knack for causing trouble and pain. I mean, hello - Angelus ring any bells?”

Now Angel’s the one who’s irritated. “Cordelia, it’s not like I lost my soul on purpose.”

“Which is kind of the point I was making. No matter how much good you try to do, it winds up with some girl crying her eyes out for months and months and the rest of us running for our lives. And while Willow crying is nowhere near as irritating as Buffy all puffy-faced and whining, she’s done more than enough of it lately as it is. And besides, in case you haven’t noticed, she still loves Oz. Who will be coming back as soon as he’s figured out how to housebreak his inner puppy.”

Cordelia can’t see it, but her words have cut Angel to the bone. It’s all he can do not to fire back some harsh and vindictive words about her. She is not, after all, the only observant one in this room. He’s noticed the fact that she’s been wearing the same outfits for a bit too long, and spotted a tag carefully hidden in one of the few new items she’d sported recently, a sure sign she intended to return it after wearing it. Hearing her speak of a job before she knew he was there only confirmed what Angel already knew: Cordelia Chase is stony broke. How delicious it would be to inform her that he’s fully aware of her degraded state.

But he can’t. Any satisfaction he gained would be transitory, immediately undone by what he’d lose. What she said earlier tells him she still thinks he’s the craven, shadow-dwelling creature he was before and that’s not an impression he wants to change, at least not yet.

“I know.” His eyes take on the wounded look she’ll recall from the days when Buffy routinely tried to make him jealous.

Cordelia’s expression softens slightly. Yeah, he’s no slouch in the acting department. “Well, that’s good then. Oh, and while we’re on the subject, I hope you’re not planning on letting Willow in on your little secret. Because the guilt is so not something she needs right now. Between getting raped, and this whole mess with Oz being run out of town for no good reason.” No good reason? Interesting take on things there, Cordelia. “And then the whole Faith kidnapping thing, she really can’t take one more catastrophe. And before you get all insulted, I think you should remember that this is Willow we’re talking about here and I think we both know she would definitely consider her best friend’s one true love falling for her to be a major catastrophe.”

Angel stares off into nowhere in a better than average impression of brooding. “I know that, Cordelia. Believe me, I know how she’d feel. She’ll never know. Not unless you say something. I don’t want her hurt any more than you do. She gave me back my soul.”

“And that’s another good reason to keep your little crush from going any further.” Angel struggles to keep his eyes from flashing gold at her dismissive characterization of his feelings. “I mean, your soul might as well be attached with velcro. One really good dream and we’ll be dealing with your psycho alter-ego again.”

“I will do nothing to jeopardize my soul, Cordelia. I don’t want Angelus on the loose again either.”

“The I guess we’re in agreement. And as long as you don’t let Willow know how you feel and you try to keep your feelings from going anywhere, we’re okay.”

He has to say something. “Since when are you and Willow such good friends, anyway? Last I heard, you were putting her down every chance you got.”

Cordelia colours a bit shamefacedly. “Yeah, I know Willow and I have misunderstood each other in the past.” Oh, so that’s what all those years of heartless cruelty were - a misunderstanding? “But we’re close now and...she’s been there for me, and...”

“I understand. Willow has this way of...” He lets his voice trail off and his eyes get that faraway look. He’s being honest, for once in this conversation, but he’s making sure to play it off the way she’d expect. She’ll chide him in a moment. One, two...

“Oh no. You are so not going there, are you?” She doesn’t disappoint him.

“Don’t worry. I’m a grown man and I can control myself.” Cordelia snorts. “My relationship with Buffy was different. I’m sure you can see that.” She nods her head, conceding his point. “And I do intend to stay Willow’s friend. Right now, she needs all the friends she can get.”

“Alright.” Cordelia grants him permission. How very gracious of her. “But be careful. I mean, Buffy may be the most clueless and self-absorbed girl on the planet,” Angel stifles his laughter, “but even she will figure out what’s going on if you keep looking at Willow the way you have been when she’s around.”

That’s a helpful observation, actually. Angel’s almost grateful. Almost. Because feeling gratitude towards Cordelia Chase is much more than can be expected of him, given her blatant disrespect for him and his feelings. Still, he actually is convinced at this point that Willow was right. The girl can be trusted (to a point) and she might even harbour something that bears a sort of passing resemblance to genuine fealty towards Willow.

“I’ll be more careful. I don’t want to hurt Buffy. I still...she’ll always be important to me.” Another soulful, longing set pose. Amazing how easily it all comes back to him.

“It’s not Buffy I’m worried about.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well what do you think she’ll do if she figures out that the nerdy sidekick has walked off with her man?” Nice way to put it, Cordelia. It’s all Angel can do not to growl at her thoughtless description of Willow.

“Buffy would never hurt Willow.” Even if he were the creature he once was, he’d know good and well that Cordelia doesn’t care a fig for him, so he’s pretty sure it’s safe to assume that she’s thinking of Willow.

A snort is her initial reply. “You’ve got to be kidding. Are you delusional, or do you just not have a clue about women?” Once more, Angel has to stifle his mirth. If Cordelia only knew. “There are only two people for Buffy to be angry at in this situation and there’s no way she’d go psycho-Slayer on you, not this time. She’d figure out a way to blame Willow. And while she might not actually stake her or anything, she’d still never forgive her. Can you imagine what that would do to Willow?”

He can’t argue with her, though he’ll have to be careful of just how he agrees with her if he’s to keep up appearances. “Buffy wouldn’t take it well, no. And that would definitely hurt Willow.”

“So you see my point, right? This little ‘thing’ you have for Willow better stay your, well our, secret. You do see that, don’t you?” She looks at him as if he’s a slightly addle-pated child and again, her lack of respect and her characterization of his feelings makes his fangs itch to sink into her flesh, but he restrains himself. Someday, maybe...but not today. She checks her watch again. “Well, as much fun as our chat has been, I have places to be, so...”

Thanking whatever god might listen to his kind, he walks Cordelia to the door. “I...I’m glad we had this talk. We both want the same thing - for Willow to be happy - and you’re right... I...I need to keep my feelings to myself. ” He looks abashed and pensive and it seems to be the right mixture.

“Good. That’s all I ask.” She opens the front door. “Goodbye, Willow,” she calls out as she heads out of the house. Angel closes the door behind her.

Cordelia’s gone and not a moment too soon. Sometime in the near future, he’s going to have to have a talk with the girl he loves about her compulsion to befriend anyone and everyone who seems willing. This tendency may make sense given her childhood neglect, but it’s become almost pathological now that she’s extending the hand of good fellowship to Cordelia Chase.

Speaking of Willow, time to head upstairs and tell her the good news - they have nothing to fear from Xander’s sex toy. He knows she’s been fretful, despite the relative calm she’s been able to feel from him and he is looking forward to putting her mind at ease.

He ascends the stairs and stops at the door to her room. He could just enter, but he decides to err on the side of good manners and knocks. “Willow? May I come in?”

She opens the door, her face mirroring the surprise he knows she’s feeling. “Angel. Cordelia’s gone, right? I thought I heard her say goodbye.”

A slight chuckle is his initial response, not so much an answer to Willow’s question as it is a release of the scorn he’s been suppressing for the unwelcome guest who just departed. “Yeah, she’s gone.”

“What’s so funny?” She’s clearly confused by his reaction, not that Angel can blame her.

He gives her a quick hug, clearly making her uncomfortable, before sitting down on her bed. “Cordelia thinks I have a crush on you.”

“What?”

Willow’s mood has shifted to near-panic in the blink of an eye and Angel hastens to reassure her. “She doesn’t know anything. She just thinks that I’m pining over you from afar. She doesn’t think you have any idea of how I feel. And she even gave me advice to make sure neither Buffy nor you find out.” His lips curve into a bitter smirk at the memory of Cordelia’s presumptuousness, an expression he quickly ameliorates as he notices Willow’s disturbance.

“You’re sure that’s all she thinks?”

“I’m positive.” He pats the bed next to him, indicating that she should sit. She doesn’t want to, but she does. Her obedience is heartening and Angel’s smile is now entirely free of its formerly scornful overtones.

Her brow furrows slightly. She’s thinking of something else. “Angel, did you tell her that you know...about...?”

Clever girl. Still he’s not going to acknowledge that he knows what she’s talking about. “What do you mean?”

This time, she’s the one who snorts at him. “I know you heard every word when she walked in. Vamp hearing and all.” She’s bluffing, though, and he can tell. After all, if she was absolutely certain he’d been listening, she’d have come out and said what it is she thinks he heard.

Still, he did hear and he loves her too much to go on pretending. She deserves to be treated with more respect than that. “You mean, did I tell her that I know she has a job now...that she’s broke?” That last bit surprised her, he knows, since that wasn’t mentioned during the girls’ brief chat. “No, I didn’t say a word.”

“How did you know that...?”

“That she’s broke? I have eyes, Willow. And it’s not too hard to figure out that she has no money when she’s wearing the same clothes for much longer than before. She’s been pretty clever about it, and it’s obvious she has enough power and cunning to keep her friends fooled, But I’m not a high school student, nor am I blinded by the tawdry glamour of Cordelia Chase.” He makes no effort to hide the disdain he feels. Any kindness he displayed towards Cordelia is due to the fact that Willow considers her a friend...and to the fact that it suits him right now.

“You’re angry.” Willow becomes slightly fearful. She’s definitely picked up on his disdain, but also on the irritation and annoyance he feels with Cordelia’s patronizing and arrogant ways. Funny how, after their talk this morning, he no longer feels the need to conceal as much from his love.

“Not with you.”

“But with Cordelia. Why?”

Might as well be at least partially honest. “Because she treated me like a dull-witted child. I don’t enjoy being talked down to by the likes of her.”

“That’s the way she is with everybody, though. I mean, she’s even like that with Xander and she’s in love with him.” She’s placating him, obviously worried about what he might do to her friend. She knows that, even with a soul, a demon is not one to be trifled with.

In truth, she’s always known that.

“Angel? If I say something you really don’t want to hear, do you promise not to bite me?”

The memory comes to mind so easily, though that’s not really surprising. Being in her room like this naturally makes his thoughts turn to the first time he was here. Even then, she understood him in ways no one else ever had, trusting him without for one moment forgetting who and what he was. He’s starting to think that was when the seeds of his love for her were sown, even though it took centuries in Hell to make them bloom.

“I won’t hurt Cordelia, Willow.”

“I didn’t think that...”

“Yes, you did.” He’s not going to allow her to lie to him, not even in small ways.

“Yeah, okay, I kind of did.” And that, he supposes, is close enough to the truth to let pass.

“Willow, I may be a demon, but I do have a soul.”

“I know. I gave it to you...or something like that.” Her voice trails off and she’s thoughtful, anxious, and getting lost in something he doesn’t understand.

He wants to make her tell him what she’s thinking, but he doesn’t know how, not without shattering the fragile peace and understanding between them. That’s not something he wants to lose. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. I was just thinking for a minute, that’s all. Nothing important.” She shakes her head quickly, as if trying to rouse herself from her thoughts and then flashes him a patent counterfeit of a smile. Her feelings are still clouded and shadowed and sad.

“You’re not fine.”

Now she’s upset. “Look, Angel. I know you can tell what I’m feeling and all, but do you have to know everything? I can’t take it anymore. I need privacy and space and to feel like there are some things about me that are mine, okay? And maybe I can’t really have all that again, but can we at least pretend? Some of the time? Because this is just too much...it’s...”

She collapses, sobbing, to the floor, and Angel immediately goes to her, pulling her up and into his arms, guiding her to the bed where he sits her down beside him. He keeps his arms around her as she cries. “Shh, it’s alright. Everything’s going to be alright.” He can tell her distress is genuine and not the least bit exaggerated. This is not a ploy. She’s truly distraught right now and he can’t help feeling guilty about that. Of course, that doesn't mean for one moment he would change what's upsetting her.

“No, Angel, it’s not going to be alright. Not for me. Maybe for you, but then, you’re happy about all this and you have a lot more power in this ‘relationship’ or whatever it is than I do and...” Her voice dissolves into another bout of crying and all he can do is hold her, murmuring meaningless words of comfort that he’s well aware do no good.

His hands are moving over her back and his touch is gradually turning from soothing to sensual. Then his mouth moves to her earlobe and...

“What are you doing?” she shrieks, her eyes wide with confusion and terror. He senses all that and also betrayal... Betrayal? And not so much as a trace of the arousal he was able to coax from her body last night.

“I... I’m sorry.” He is indeed. It’s not as if he hasn’t dominated her and pressed his influence before, but he had intended for this to be so very different. He’d wanted to soothe away her pain with his touch, to have her accept him fully and completely. What went wrong?

Out of nowhere, something she said this morning replays in his mind: “I’m human.”

He’d told her he realized that, but did he? Did he really?

Vampires are, by nature, extraordinarily sexual. Sex for his kind is almost a form of communication. Actually, almost does not even apply. It is a language all its own for them. Not that it’s a casual thing, far from it, but vampires infuse sex with a variety of meanings far beyond those of their human counterparts. Even feeding is a kind of perverse sexual act, penetration leading to the ending of life as well as, at times, to the creation of unlife.

Vampires use sex to celebrate, to discipline, to affirm familial bonds, to establish the hierarchy within those selfsame families, to console one another after a defeat...for so many things.

It’s not the same for humans.

One of the reasons he so thoroughly denied himself any pleasures of the flesh in the decades after he was cursed by the gypsies was his desire to distance himself completely from his vampiric nature. As much as he acknowledges his former feelings for Buffy, he knows that what truly caused him to lose his soul with her was the joy he felt at gratifying such a primal need after so long a period of self-denial. It wasn’t a simple matter of having missed sex the way a human man might, it was more like having the chance to speak again after decades of silence, to touch and taste and feel again after being denied his senses for so very long. He is a vampire and sex is an integral part of that.

Willow is not a vampire.

She’s not even a creature of the physical, like Buffy is. No, she’s all about books and computers. Her life has been a cerebral one. She barely even pays attention to her appearance. No sensualist she. It will take time for her to feel with her body, to express herself without words, the way he does, and to understand what it means when he touches her. Sex is still something new and awkward to her and she doesn’t experience it as he does. In time, of course, he’ll help her to a new awareness of her body and of the connection she can forge with him through sexual congress, but for now, he needs to be patient.

“I am sorry, Willow. I didn’t mean... I’m sorry.” He thinks of telling her a bit of what he’s realized, but now isn’t the time. He’s already made the mistake of relaxing his dominance of their bond today and look what happened - he needs to be cautious now.

She seems to be about to respond in a less than receptive fashion, despite his attempt to vitiate her anger with an apologetic manner. Now would be a propitious moment to take control by interjecting even more Soulboy awkwardness into the conversation...and into the emotions he projects. “Are you hungry?”

“Huh?” She seems puzzled and a bit confused by what he’s said and what she can feel through their connection. Exactly his intention. He’s not interested in another pointless argument. There’s been far too much acrimony and dissension from her in the past and that’s not how he’d prefer their time to be spent.

“Would you like some ice cream? I know that seems to help when girls are upset and...”

Now he really has her at a disadvantage. The emotions pouring through the bond are all he could hope. He has her confounded and at a loss - both for words and for anger.

“I... I guess breakfast would probably be good.”

“Shall we go down to the kitchen then?”

“There’s a really big window there.” He’s almost elated by her warning, his feelings tempered, however, by his realization that her consideration may have as much or more to do with self-preservation as it does with concern for him. Neither of them, after all, knows what would happen to the other should one of them be killed. “I’ll just grab something and...come back, I guess.” Good girl. At least she knows better than to ask him to return to that hideous living room. There’s only so much forbearance he’s willing to exercise.

“Okay.” His voice is as soft as the emotions he’s allowing to the surface. He’s actually grateful that the memory of who he once was looms so large in her memory that she’s able to be convinced that he’s still that man, at least partially.

She leaves the room and he takes a moment to center himself. He does hate having to manipulate her again, but it can’t be helped. Her reaction to his efforts to comfort her earlier tell him that, no matter what she said earlier today, she’s not ready to know who he is, who they are, yet and it’s up to him to nurture and shelter and guide her until such time as she becomes able to accept what is real and true...to accept her destiny - and everything that means.

She’s back far sooner than he expected, eating something that looks like a stick of gravel.

“Granola bar,” she replies, seeing the question in his raised eyebrow. “They’re good for you.”

Angel is rather skeptical. Maybe he’s been out of the kitchen for too many years, but he still sees a nourishing breakfast as something actually containing food, and a fair amount of it at that. Now, however, is not the time to challenge Willow on her eating habits. There will be time later on to address her lack of concern for her own health and well-being.

“Angel?” Her voice holds hints of both ire and trepidation. “Can I say something?”

He knows what she wants to discuss. He’ll let her have her head a bit for now. Besides, he can garner a good deal of important information from the tenor of her words and just which ones she uses. “Of course, sweetheart.”

“When I was crying earlier...why did you...I mean, don’t get me wrong, I was really glad that you actually cared that I didn’t want to for once, but why did you have to try to...?”

He’s not pleased with the way she’s phrased her question. Apparently, he truly had been overly optimistic after their conversation this morning. It’s obvious she still holds some of those horrible misconceptions about what has transpired between them, and frankly, having used up the lion’s share of his capacity for tolerance during his earlier encounter with Cordelia, he’s not sure how much of being called a rapist he can bear right now. “I love you.” Well, it is in fact the truth. Perhaps it will be enough to mollify her and stop this from getting out of hand.

“That’s your answer for everything, isn’t it?”

Right now, Angel would like to rip Oz’s throat open. It’s his fault that Willow has all the wrong ideas about what it means to be the mate of a demon. As much as he hates to do it, he’s going to need to bring Willow to heel once more. “Yes, it is.” He lets a cold wind flow through their connection...letting her know she’s pushed him too far. He admires her spunk in the right situations and circumstances, but there’s only so much he’s willing to let her get away with.

She gets the message. He can almost see her shiver. “Okay.” She’s truly afraid of him. He almost sighs at having to do this to her, but it can’t be helped. Her poor upbringing and even poorer experience with demons is not her fault, but it is her problem, and it’s something he has to fix, no matter what it takes. Someday, she’ll understand how very much he loves her.

“I should probably get on the computer, you know? See if I can find out anything more about this Ascension.”

“That’s a good idea.”

“Do you wanna go watch TV or something? We have cable.” Her desire to be free of his presence overwhelms him. It’s painful.

“No. I’d rather stay here with you.”

“Well, it’s not really interesting or anything, me typing away on the computer.”

“Everything you do interests me, Willow. Do you have any idea how often I’ve watched you at your keyboard? Even before?”

She’s trembling again - almost imperceptibly, but it doesn’t escape his notice. She’s starting to see. Good. Still, he throws her a bit of a bone by selecting a book from her shelves and sitting on the floor where he’ll still be able to look at her. She doesn’t say another word, just turning and taking her seat at her desk. Her sense of duty compels her to give her full attention to the task of ferreting out the Mayor’s secrets. Soon enough, she’s engrossed in her work. And Angel is engrossed in her.

Someday, when they have a home of their own, he envisions many happy hours spent this way. Him pretending to read a book while watching her surf the internet or whatever it is she calls what she does. Perhaps he’ll have her instruct him in at least the basics of computer usage.

Yes, he will do that. It would behoove him to be up to date with the trappings of modern life. After all, isn’t one of the joys of eternity the chance to experience all the changes and inventions of each new decade? Besides, with all the things he’ll be teaching her, it seems only fair to let her return the favour. Perhaps then she’ll realize just how perfectly suited they are for each other.

Time passes and he watches a variety of emotions play across her face, feels them alter as they flit through her consciousness. He’s withdrawn somewhat, keeping his own emotions at a low simmer, allowing her to feel separate enough from him to let her guard down and get lost in her work.

She’s adorable, with her brow furrowed in concentration, chewing on her lower lip. Intelligence has never lent more charm to any woman’s mien, he’s positive of that. He looks forward to the day when she’ll be like this while fully experiencing their bond, and that she’ll share the joy of her experience with him, conversing with him at length about her interests and activities. That day can’t come soon enough for him. Still, for the time being he can at least play voyeur. And for now, that will have to suffice.


Tbc...