dust and denialRating:MA (Australian) (US) - mainly for imagery.
Posted: April 20, 2001
Notes/Spoilers: 1) Set a short while post-"Disharmony". For those who have read all my other pieces, you will find similarities here with "Morbidity" and a similar theme to some other Brief Conversations. Obviously, the ever near presence of Angelus, the blurring of the lines and the question "Does Cordelia really think she can do it?" - are all of continuing interest to me. Here you go...
"We’ve talked about this before. Why do we have to keep going over and over and around?? Trust me.”Shoulders hunched, he turned away from her. Angel smelt her growing confusion, thinly clothed in defensive indignation. He could no longer rely on Cordelia. She wouldn’t do it. He gave no credence to her wavering protestations of ‘trust me’. Harmony’s visit had spurred his concerns. Angel shook his head slowly, and, with an effort, dragged his attention back to focus on his fear. On Cordelia.
“Cordelia, I need you to tell me you can be strong enough to...”
“I am strong, damn you! Angelus scares the crap out of me. I wouldn’t hesitate to stake him.”
Angel strode towards Cordelia in exasperation. “Stake me. You would be staking me - this body,” an aggressively clenched fist thumped at his chest, “ and watching this face explode into dust.... ”
“I can...”
“Cordelia, for crying out loud... last week you couldn’t kill an incredibly annoying vampire with a shady link to your school days... how are you going to stake me?”
“That was different - she needed help, she is harmless.”
“Oh, geeze... How do you make that out? Do you think she is sneaking in an alley at the back of a butcher’s right now asking for pig’s blood? No! She’s a vampire - she’ll be stalking a body full of delightfully warm, sweet...”
“Angel, I’m not naive...”
“No? I deal with it every minute, every damn life-less minute! I am a vampire - soul or no soul. I am a vampire, un-dead, cold, craving the warmth. You try to hide from all of that, don’t you?”
“No... I keep blood in my refrigerator for you... and... and a cross - yes, a cross in my bag! How is that hiding?”
“You think of the blood as you would V8 - admit it - and I bet the cross is buried so deep under all the other essentials you keep in that portable Pandora’s box you would never find it in time!”
“Maybe. Do you never consider that I need to relate all the Dracula meets Frankenstein stuff to my barely normal life? I have to be able to pretend it’s normal to stay sane! So? What do you want me to do to prove I’m capable? Go after Harmony?”
“No. Gunn is taking care of Harmony.”
“Say again?”
“Gunn... he’s on the look-out for Harmony - as well as any other vampires. Routine street patrols.”
“You sent Charles after Harmony? Jesus, Angel. She’ll be scared....”
“Listen to you!” Long fingers clamped around the thin flesh of Cordelia’s shoulders, an exasperated shake left indentations of long dead fingertips. “There - is - no - Harmony, not your Harmony, not any more!”
Angel’s hands relaxed, suddenly ashamed of his aggression. The bewildered confusion in Cordelia’s eyes had been jolted away, replaced by weary determination.
Cordelia shrugged herself from his slackened grip, absently rubbing at the forming bruises. “No need to get tetchy ... or violent! You are convinced I won’t dust Angelus. I say I will. You won’t believe until it happens - if it happens... ”
If. Angel shivered. Cordelia had no idea how close he had been. How welcome a soul-less non-existence had seemed. The tantalising nearness of release. She should have known. She should have been there.
“It - losing my soul - could have happened any time over the last month. You of all people should know what I am capable of.... should have realised how near I have been to letting the demon loose. ... especially recently - voluntarily - longing to ... There is so little holding the evil in. You said it yourself last week - you were worried I would sleep with Darla and turn evil - right? But what did you do about it? Why did you let it go so far? If you were truly concerned, why didn’t you come after me with a tranquiliser gun and lock me up until I saw sense? Or killed me out-right? Why not? Huh? Why did you let me leave? ”
Voice ragged, the repressed sores had surfaced. He had gone off on a tangent and exposed a personal grievance. Unintentionally, but it was said. Angel’s hungry, intent gaze never wavered from Cordelia’s distraught face. He had to know.
Pain, self-doubt, despair, raw grief, pity. Angel silently processed Cordelia’s emotions as they rippled in the depths of her eyes. Bleakly, he waited, craving his own resolution while despising his need.
“I can’t tell you what I don’t know.” Cordelia twisted away, her expressive hands fluttered desolately at her sides. “I told myself you would be okay. You had managed so far, you’d keep on coping. And later, because you had rejected me - us - well, that didn’t mean you wouldn’t be okay. I didn’t imagine that you might abandon yourself. I tried to pretend you had never been. I wasn’t very good at the pretence but that way it didn’t hurt so much. Denial Land, right? Like you said. And, no crappy mood-breaking jokes.”
Pain. More to come. He waited. Cordelia slowly turned to look up at Angel.
“Wait a minute...” Her index finger began a rhythmic drumming against her hip. Angel watched as disbelief edged out the despair already marring the face before him.
“Wait a minute... voluntarily? What’s that? Voluntarily setting Angelus free? When did you ever want him back? Talk to me Angel. What happened.”
“I was kind of depressed,” he offered.
“Depressed. Okay. And?”
“After all of everything - Wolfram and Hart - Darla being human and then re-vamped - the games - I couldn’t stop any of it and then when Holland said I never would...I just wanted it all to end... be part of the evil again. It would all be so much easier, I wouldn’t have to fight the pain anymore... and what was it all for anyway? The evil would go on and on and on, whatever I did.”
“Angel, tell me...” she asked quietly.
Angel transferred his gaze to a picture on the wall before replying. “I slept with Darla - I had sex with her and I slept in her arms. I thought... I didn’t care if I lost my soul... I even forgot that sex wouldn’t be enough, huh! Stupid. I couldn’t even go evil. I can’t save the world and I can’t end it either.”
“You wanted to lose you soul? You didn’t consider anyone else? Us? Me?”
His eyes flashed briefly to Cordelia. “To be honest, no.”
“Honesty. Right. Why doesn’t that make me feel better? Why did you lie to me about Darla? Look at me!”
“Cord, I was trying to make it better between us - how could I turn around and tell you? Not then. I knew it would have to be discussed eventually, but...”
“Huh! Angelus would come for me - wouldn’t he? And Wesley - he would have come for us straight away - for fun. His fun!”
“I would have, yes. It’s me, Cordelia, me.”
“Stop it,” she almost spat the words.
“Why won’t you understand? Angelus and Angel are one. Stake Angelus, stake Angel. I am scared, terrified of the eventuality - I know what I, what Angelus, will want to do to you... I have seen...” Angel’s voice wavered. He had been there, watching, listening, tasting; he knew the desires, the pleasures. Angel nervously rubbed his brow and tried to refocus on his companion.
“God! Cordelia... we are back where we started - I need the comfort of believing... believing that you will be able to end the evil, my evil.”
“Do you truly suppose that I will be a match for Angelus? I can say I’ll stake you until the... the... bats come home, but what chance would I really have? Huh? Do you think about that? Last time, if it hadn’t been for Wesley, I don’t think I would have lasted very long. I could almost hear my neck snapping before Wes threw you down that elevator shaft.”
“No, not then, not for a while - you would have - lived...” That was a given fact. He couldn’t doubt Angelus’ intent; recent dreams - lurid, vivid and horrendously intoxicating - were proof enough. Angelus’ dreams. They had to be instigated by Angelus. Dreaming about Cordelia had been a hollow comfort after he had pushed her away. No, he was confused. Angelus’ comfort. How could he look at her otherwise? How could he look at Cordelia and remember the beaded, sweetly fresh, brightly glistening blood trickling down her dying flesh if the visions had been created in his own unconscious thought? Angelus and Angel. One and the same. Wasn’t he trying to make Cordelia acknowledge that truth? He groaned inwardly.
“You would have lived - for a while.”
“Oh? And you would leave a stake handy at all times between tortures? You know, in case I lost interest?”
“Will you at least promise me not to take any risks - like you did when Rebecca drugged me, chaining me up - not again. First opportunity, get that bit of wood right through here. Promise me.” Desperate to reinforce the plea, Angel grasped Cordelia’s wrist and held her hand against the vulnerable area of his chest.
“No, I can’t promise. If there is a chance that we can get you, get Angel back, re-soul you, whatever - like Willow did - then we... I... will make that attempt.”
“And if there isn’t a chance?”
“Then I will stake you. Or Gunn. Or Wesley will.. I’m sure they will be enthusiastic. Anyway, it isn’t going to happen.”
The warmth from the small hand filtered through the thin fabric to his cool, leaden chest. Warmth, such as he sought in his dreams. The gentle heat that he would ultimately drain, blood drops quivering; sipping tenderly at her lingering, pulsing life in the excitement of his nurturing embrace. Angelus’ dreams, not his own. Not the he that was forever entwined with Angelus. Not the he who yearned for Cordelia’s warmth. God no.
“Denial. You won’t stake me,” he stated flatly. “You still don’t get it. From now on, when you look at me, see ‘vampire’; every time I speak, hear the voice of Angelus; if I touch you, shrink in disgust and loathing; if I...”
“Stop it! Stop it!” Cordelia’s free hand balled into a fist and slammed angrily against the dead heart with each demand to ‘stop’. Her forehead sank dejectedly against Angel’s silk covered skin.
“I missed you. Now you are back and I thought we could start to be friends - try to be friends again. I want to be comfortable with you - I need you... and you! You are telling me I should scream if you touch me?” she muttered frantically into Angel’s shirt.
“Yes...” he admitted, “at least, not right now.” Two arms crept reassuringly around Cordelia’s waist, clasping the living body close.
“Oh. I can forget you are a vampire for how long?”
“Just for a few minutes.”
“Just for a few minutes,” she echoed.
Forget for a few minutes, forget the essential vampire. He knew neither of them could afford to indulge in that luxury. Could or should? A minute or two. He had sorely missed her presence. Angel lowered his cheek to rest against the satin soft hair. He closed his eyes and breathed in the scent of Cordelia. Just a few minutes. The living Cordelia. Not the almost drain-dead dream Cordelia. Not that one. Not the one with beaded, fresh, glistening blood; seductively perfumed with fear; the delicious metallic tang, rolling velvet-like on his tongue. Not that.... Tilting her, pushing her to the exquisite brink, to join him. Razor sharp teeth slicing once more into her breast, skin parting welcomingly; the sensuous ambrosia of death dripping, dripping; her nipples erotically rosy with terror-spiced blood; vibrance fading from the softly blue skin. The ragged, hot breath still carrying faint, pleading whispers, stirring him on to smash the air from her harried lungs with each new tumultuous, heady plunge into her increasingly compliant depths; compliant only in death.
A low growl ruffled the air above Cordelia’s left ear. Her head snapped back to reveal the surprise on her face, as though woken suddenly from sleep.
“Angel?”
Angel’s tongue flickered smoothly over his dry lips. He could still taste .... No. Not that Cordelia.
“It’s okay,” he responded automatically. Angel felt the dawning shame crawl over his skin and, as he pushed away the day-dream, he pushed the real Cordelia gently away from his body, “I started to feel - relaxed.”
“You did? Who...who growled?”
“That was me. Relaxed. Sorry.”
“Which - me?” she asked uncertainly. “Are you trying to frighten me into...”
“No. Did I? Frighten you?”
“Startled would be a better description.”
Angel mustered a shaky half smile and, to ease his stimulated thoughts of Not-Cordelia, redirected his attention once more to the unresolved issues of staking Angelus.
“Cordelia - this has been a tough discussion, I realise, but - you can’t say I’ll never lose my soul again - or be drugged - or be plain happy... just straight-out happy?”
“Won’t happen.”
“Won’t? You can’t guarantee that! I was actually quite - relaxed - a few minutes ago and you, um, didn’t notice that I was slightly pleased a few days ago? When I gave you... when I replaced your clothes?”
“Oh. You smiled - a little...”
“I laughed. I was happy that you were happy. I lie in bed and go over my conversations with you and I get cold sweats realising how happy I have been... you know, what if that is all it takes? Being back with you guys, enjoying your company, wanting to belong... Part of me wants you to accept me wholly, trust me, believe in me and the other part shudders in horror at the idea...”
“What do you suggest? Besides hollering the place down if you accidentally brush against me! Beat you with a big stick every morning before I send you for coffee and donuts? Stick a card around your neck saying ‘I am Angelus’? Wear you down with my acid tongue as you scrub out the toilets?”
“Yeah.”
“Submissive Angel?”
“Um. Yeah. I might get to like...”
Cordelia’s cheek twitched. “I’d give you two days. Less. Then you’d be grabbing the stick and hitting me before you flushed my head in the toilet bowl!”
“No way. Never. I’d never hit you. I couldn’t. The toilet, maybe.”
She laughed, but the laugh quickly faded.
“Angelus wants to hurt Cordelia. Scary - but accepted - fact. Cordelia can’t stake Angel but...” her eyes met his hopeful gaze, “Cordelia might be able to stake Angelus. That’s the best I can give you.”
“But..,” he faltered. What could he say? Angel was as dangerous as Angelus? Some dreams, that was all, flashing into his waking moments, a day dream. Actually hurting Cordelia was not a possibility. But her scent; the lingering, dreamt savor of her blood...
“Look at the positive,” Cordelia’s eager voice broke into his reverie, “If I tell you I can definitely kill Angelus, you’ll likely stop worrying about the possibilities. If I tell you I might possibly be able to do it, you are still going to worry. Right?”
“I, um... think so.”
“Good. In that case you can afford to be a little bit happy and to belong - a little bit - but the worry will counteract the happy so you don’t have to worry about being happy!” Cordelia’s eyes lit up with a reassuring smile.
“Er... that’s it?”
“That’s it!”
“So, staking me, if I turn evil - can we just go over the bit...”
The door slammed after Cordelia. Angel was talking to air.
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Disclaimer: The characters are Joss Whedon's, Mutant Enemy's and probably a heap of other people about
whom I know nothing.
I lay no claim to ownership of the characters, I simply like to ask them out to play now and then.