Chapter 43 – The Chain
Listen to the wind blow
Watch the sun rise
Run in the shadows
Damn your love
Damn your lies
And if
You don’t love me now
You will never love me again
I can still hear you saying
You would never break the chain
Fleetwood Mac
Shadows danced across the
walls in a rhythmic pattern that followed the music of beeping machines and the
shallows gasps of air keeping Cordelia alive. Angel stared almost unblinking at
the flashes on the wall behind her. He couldn’t look at her without his heart
shattering. If the PTB wanted to punish him for the years of evil that he’d
done, they couldn’t have chosen anything more tortuous than this death watch
for his wife.
Only yesterday she’d been in
his arms. Sharing their love for each other, and saying soft words to each
other in a language that no one else would understand. It was a memory he hoped
he would never lose. Precious was the only word that came to mind now when he
thought of it. Just like she was. How was he going to continue without her? He
knew he didn’t want to.
Angel, always alert to every
sound, every movement of her body, felt her returning to wakefulness and
quickly moved to her side. “Cordy?”
“Angel,” Cordy managed to
whisper between lips so dry that they were bleeding. “Water.”
He sat on the edge of the
bed and reached for the cup on the table. He soaked the sponge stick with water
before holding it to her lips. A second passed as they stared at each other
then his hand shook, and her eyes closed as he swabbed the inside of her mouth.
She swallowed convulsively as he tried to relieve the thirst that was holding
her hostage.
“Any better?” He asked, even
though he knew it didn’t really. Not where she was now. Only death would bring
her blessed relief now. He caressed her brow before letting his fingers drift
across the sunken plain of her cheek.
“Yes,” Cordy said, barely
managing a smile. “I love you, Angel.”
“Love you, too, baby,” he
whispered, kissing her cheek. “What am I going to do without you?”
“There will be someone else
for you.”
“No, never,” Angel vowed,
even though there was a whisper in his heart that told him differently. It was
a lie. It had to be he decided as he pushed the thought away. He would be
alone.
“Someday,” she whispered.
“Be open to what life will bring you.”
Bending his head, he buried
it against her stomach, his hands wrapped around hers. Somehow she managed to
squeeze his hands as sobs tore through him. It wasn’t time. He wasn’t ready.
“Listen to me,” She
commanded, then waited until he pulled himself together. He didn’t bother to
wipe away the tears from his face. Instead he concentrated every fiber of his
being on Cordelia. “You have to believe…take care of them. They’ll need
you…what you can teach them. Promise.”
They didn’t matter to him.
Not really. Even though he knew they should. The young Slayers that carried on
the mission were so vulnerable yet so eager to eradicate the evil of the world.
They had no clue what they up against, that chances for victory were fleetingly
slim. They were only disposable pawns in
a game created eons ago by men who were too afraid to fight. Hopefully, his
plan would succeed and he would help to even the odds a bit. Eradicate the
Black Thorn, weaken the Senior Partner’s power, and maybe give the girls a
chance to brighten the planet for a brief while.
He just hoped he wouldn’t
make it through. A blaze of glory and it would be the end of him. Maybe he
would be given the chance to be with Cordelia again, if not then all he wanted
was to simply not exist anymore. Despite what she said his future would hold
and his heart told him, he didn’t want it. Not without her beside him.
“Angel, it’s too important,”
Cordelia said. “You have to promise me.”
“I promise,” he lied,
kissing the back of her hand that was still joined with his.
Her eyes fluttered closed as
exhaustion seemed to overwhelm her. Angel started to lean back, to return to
his waiting when she turned to look at him again. There was fierceness to her
stare that terrified him. Her breathing sped up as she held a hand out to him.
“It’s started,” she managed
to force out before collapsing back into unconsciousness.
He froze as he waited for a
heartbeat or another gasp of air to tell him that she was still alive. She was.
Her heartbeat was faint and her breathing was shallow, but they were there.
Angel relaxed as relief flooded his system. The nurse came bustling back into
room to check Cordy’s vitals. Angel moved to the end of the bed, praying that Cordy
was going to hang on just awhile longer. Without her strength, he didn’t know
if he could do what he had to do.
“The poor thing wore herself
out,” the nurse whispered, fixing the blankets around Cordelia. Reassuring them
both that she was as comfortable as possible.
“She’s not in pain, is she?”
Angel asked, turning to look at the IV drip that kept a steady stream of
morphine going into her system.
“No, she’s not,” the nurse
said. “If you’d like, I’ll sit with her a bit. Let you walk around, get some
air.” She held a hand up. “I’ll call the moment something changes.”
“Thanks,” Angel said,
nodding. “I’ll be back.”
Without thought he moved
through the house toward the kitchen. He needed nourishment. Angelus was drumming his hunger through him.
Not only for blood but to take out his frustrations, taunting him to succumb to
their basic need to kill, to feed and to create pain. It was harder each day to
hold onto his sanity, to his mission when evil was beckoning to him so sweetly.
It was only the beauty of Cordelia’s face filled with love for him that kept the
demon caged within him.
He didn’t even bother to
heat up or even pour the thick, rich fluid into a glass. Instead he gulped it
down in exaggerated swallows that quenched his hunger with ease. It hummed
through his body, awakening his senses, reminding him that he still existed.
And within that existence still needed this nourishment, sleep, his family and
love. No matter how much he didn’t want it.
The phone rang and he
reached for it without thought or reason. “Hello,” he said, putting down the
carafe and wiping his mouth with his free hand.
“Dad,” Connor said. “Are you
on your way to the Hyperion?”
“What’s going on?”
“The Slayers have all had
the same dream,” Connor said. “Giles is saying it’s the First using the
connection between them to try and bring them down.”
“Shit,” Angel mumbled. His
hand went to his hip as he turned to stare out at the ocean crashing on the
shore. Cordelia had known that the battles were coming. He would need to push
his plan through soon. Otherwise he would be of no use in this fight. “Where
are you?”
“Raven and I are on our
way,” Connor explained. “Giles sent the helicopter for us and we just landed at
Wolfram and Hart.”
“I’m on my way,” Angel
replied, hanging up the phone. He headed for the front of the house. He pulled
his cell phone from his pocket and dialed the number for Gunn.
It was time to set up the
final meeting with the Black Thorn.
~~~~~
Dana knew the man with the
glasses wasn’t the one. He had a heartbeat. The ones who hurt didn’t have one,
no sound, no breathe came from their bodies. Those were the ones Slayers were
supposed to kill. Heart and head. Then she’d be free. No more pain to wrap
around her heart taking away her life slowly.
She crouched in the corner
watching the others like her as they tried to get over the nightmare. They were
weak. Had no clue what real pain was. She shook her head at them. They couldn’t
handle what was coming. She could.
Heart and head. Then she
could go home.
“They’ll be here soon,” her
grandmother whispered to her. “Be prepared, child. You have to make them pay
for the murders of your family. The vampires must be destroyed.”
“Yes,” Dana murmured,
patting her leg to make sure the stake was still there. It was. “It doesn’t
hurt if you hold still.”
Her eyes were glued to the
door, waiting for the monsters that had fooled everyone. They didn’t fool her.
She would destroy them and free them all.
~~~~~
The sound of the floorboards
creaking in the attic was plainly heard in Joy’s room. Spike was pacing while
he waited for her. The knowledge only irritated Buffy. She knew there was going
to be an argument. Something she couldn’t really deal with or even want to
while everything was falling apart. Sometimes he could be such a man and that
pissed her off. She needed her partner, her hero, and he wanted to get fucking
petty.
“Night, mummy,” Joy
whispered, already half asleep.
“Night, baby,” Buffy said,
pulling a smile from somewhere inside to comfort her daughter. She kissed the
little girl on the cheek, tucked the blankets a little tighter around her then
she slipped from the room.
At the bottom of the stairs
leading to the attic, she took a deep breath, reassured herself that she’d done
the only thing she could before taking the steps at a jog. Ignoring Spike’s
indignant halting of his pacing and immediate switch to his predatory stance,
Buffy headed for the closet. Already, mentally, she was packing the things she
would need in
“Are you going to say
anything?” Spike asked.
“Nope,” Buffy said, suddenly
tired of it. “You’ve already made up your mind that I don’t trust you, that I’m
a manipulative bitch, and once again you are the injured person, so keep
believing it if you want. I’m not fighting with you.”
“Oh, just throw it all back
on me,” Spike sputtered, walking over to the bed where she had the suitcase
opened. “Make it my fault because you can’t tell me everything.”
“You don’t need to know
everything,” Buffy said, grabbing jeans from the dresser. “I trusted you enough
to do the right thing when it was needed instead of telling you everything and
trying to force our hand.”
“Buffy,” he grabbed her arm
to hold her still for a moment. “What the bloody hell is going on?”
“It’s the fucking end of the
world again,” Buffy said, wrenching away. “What did you think was going on? I
just wanted to let you go out and play around with that little whore who’s hot
on your ass.”
“Leave Dylan out of this,”
Spike snapped. His demon flickering as he fought for control of his emotions. “This
is between you and me.”
“And so is he,” Buffy said,
zipping up the suitcase. She picked it up off the bed before turning to look
her husband in the eye. “I’m here, I love you, and I’d die for you. Would you
do the same for me?”
“Already made that choice,
babe, or have you forgotten?”
“I haven’t forgotten a damn
thing,” Buffy retorted. “I’m heading for
“So, that’s it?” Spike
asked. His tone was bitter and angry. He was still itching for a fight for some
reason. “You make all the decisions while I just follow the great Buffy.”
Buffy sighed, throwing her
head back as she tried to contain herself. It wasn’t the time or place, but
then something snapped as she realized that maybe he was trying to find a
reason to make trouble for them. If she walked away then he’d be free to pursue
Dylan. She dropped her suitcase on the floor before turning to walk back to
him. Ten years of frustration and wondering exploded out of her as she stood
toe to toe with him.
“You fucking whoring
bastard,” Buffy snarled. “Don’t force this on me. If you want to be with that
piece of trash then go fuck him. Fuck him all you want but if you do, I’ll
never touch you again. You’ll never see your kids again, and you’ll never step
in this house again.” She took a deep breath. “I’ll be the vindictive bitch you
say I am and I’ll dog you every step of the way for the rest of your miserable
life. Because you’ll never get it as good as it is right now.”
Spike leaned toward her. His
hands curling into fists as his eyes flashed with anger. “Damn your hide,
bitch.” His head tilted as he seemed to want to kiss her, but instead his own
angry words came pouring out. “You never wanted me. I was second choice if I
remember right. No one else could put up with you except me, so you figured it
was me or no one. Isn’t that right?”
“Go to hell,” Buffy spit
out. “You’re the one who can’t keep it in his pants.”
“At least I didn’t let
someone else into my head and take off with your kids.”
“God, I hate you,” Buffy
said, a sob choking her. “You’ll just never let it be. You get scared and you
have to run.” She waved a hand around. “You have to do this to us. Why? I
can’t…not anymore.”
Ignoring anything else he
might have to say, she grabbed her suitcase and ran. Down the stairs, heading
for the front door and sweet freedom as fast as she could. Laughter echoed inside
her head, mocking her for never being enough to hold onto a man. They all left
sooner or later and the metaphorical jeering began to build in crescendo
sounding almost as loud as the sound of her marriage ripping apart.
to be continued…
