December 2002

    Angel’s hand fairly shook as he held out the small, velveteen box to her.  She looked at the box and back at him with shining brown eyes.  Tentatively, she reached out to take it from him, and her fingers brushed against his hand.  He smiled, nervously expectant.  She held the box out and opened it slowly.  Inside was a simple ring.  It was really nothing more than a band of silver, with the exception of the inscription on the inside of it.  Cordelia’s breath caught in her throat.  She took the ring out of the box and turned it so she could read the word inscribed on it.
    "Semper," she whispered almost inaudibly.  "Always."
    Angel nodded, and he tried to catch her eye.  His quiet desperation was very nearly lost on her.  She put the box down on the desk next to her and turned the ring over and over in her hand.  Cordelia wanted to say something fitting, but she found that the lump in her throat prevented any such speech.  She finally met his gaze, a new gleam in her eye and unfamiliar warmth in the pit of her stomach.
    "Angel, it’s…it’s beautiful.  Thank you," she said.  She was surprised to find that she was fighting back tears.
    He said nothing and reached out to take her hand.  Deftly, tenderly, he slipped the ring onto her left pinkie finger.  He resisted the urge to kiss her hand, and instead let it fall gently back to her side.
    "Merry Christmas, Cordelia," he whispered.
    She smiled that brilliant smile of hers and wrapped her arms around his neck.  Angel’s arms slid protectively around her waist.  Still smiling, she buried her face in his sweater.
    "Merry Christmas, Angel.  I’m sorry I only got you this sweater," she muttered into his chest, and her breath warmed the particular spot.  "I feel awful for not giving you anything good."
    "This is good," he said softly.  "This is good…"
 

    Fred was bounding around the lobby in very good spirits, her long hair waving joyfully behind her.  As she skipped about, she waved a small slip of paper high in the air for all to see.  Earlier that evening, she had discovered a note from Wesley on her desk.  He and Fred had argued that morning about some silly, trivial issue, and it had escalated into vicious guilt trips.  Wesley had blamed Fred for not doing more to save Gunn, and she blamed him right back.  It had all been quite ugly and unnecessary.
    When Fred found the note, she recognized Wesley’s handwriting immediately and was prepared to throw it in the trash straight away.  However, a few unusual words saved the note from summary execution.  These words sent Fred into a positive tizzy of happiness.  Thus, she began to dance around the hotel lobby.  It was in this state of giddiness that Wesley stumbled onto her.
    "Fred, what on Earth are you doing?" he inquired in a mildly playful tone.
    "Hmm?  Oh, Wesley!  I’m dancing, isn’t it obvious?" she exclaimed, barely able to contain herself.
    "Ah, yes.  I ought to have guessed that, I suppose," he replied, smiling fondly at her.
    She grinned and danced closer to him until she was right in front of him.  She stared at him for what seemed like hours before he spoke.
    "Is something wrong?" he asked, cautious and slightly bewildered.
    "No.  Well, probably not," she said, her smile fading.  Her previously joyous countenance dissolved into one of apprehension.  "You—you did mean it, didn’t you?"
    "Mean what?"
    "What you wrote in the note you gave me!"
    "Of course!  I meant every word I said." He delicately placed a hand on her shoulder.
    "Good.  That’s good," she said, and it was almost as if she was reassuring herself.  "So, when do you want to do it?"
    "Do…it?  I’m not quite sure what you mean."
    "When do you want to go out?  I’m free most Fridays and Saturdays, Wednesdays, too.  What day is good for you?" Fred asked, the giddiness back.
    "What…?" Wesley trailed off, confused, but not displeased.  He took the note from Fred’s trembling hand and reread what he’d written about perhaps getting together sometime and discussing a few things that needed to be discussed.  He realized her inference in his favor and decided to make the best of it.  "Yes, absolutely, Fridays and Saturdays!  You have but to choose a date, and I will undoubtedly be free."
    "Oh, Wesley!" she sighed, embracing him with a force that nearly knocked him backward.  He grinned.  "I was hoping you liked me.  I mean, I knew I liked you, and I thought you knew that I knew I liked you, but I didn’t know if you knew that I knew that you knew.  I didn’t even know if you knew if you liked me or not!  But now we both know, and I’m glad."
    "As am I, Winifred.  As am I," he said, holding her tightly.  He refused to allow the worried thoughts of things to come to interrupt this momentary happiness.
 

    The metal roof barrier was cold and damp to her touch, yet she leaned against it without reservation.  The Los Angeles night was vaguely icy, almost lifeless.  It mirrored her personality relatively well.
    He would come.  She knew he would come.  He always came, but she knew in her guts that it wouldn’t be that way forever.  It had always been that way, though.  She had barely known him before he saved her life the first time.  After that, he invariably seemed to show up when she needed him and even when she didn’t, or thought she didn’t.  She hated him for it, for proving time and time again that she needed someone.  She needed him, and she hated herself for it.
    She understood that he would never truly realize just how important he had been and would continue to be.  The chivalrous vampire with a soul probably chalked it all up to simply doing his job.
    "Hey."
    "Hey," she said without turning around.
    "What are you doing up here?" he asked, his quiet concern clearly evident.
    "What are you doing up here?" she tossed back at him.
    "I was looking for you," he replied as though stating the obvious.  He took up a position next to her, resting his broad back against the barrier.  He stared at the ground and spoke only in subdued tones.  "I haven’t seen you all day."
    "Christmas isn’t really one of my favorite days."
    "I know."
    "So, why were you looking for me?" she asked, the conversation veering back to its original direction.
    "Why shouldn’t I want to see you?" His tone was gentle, kind, and there was something else that Kate simply couldn’t put a finger on.
    "I don’t know.  I just figured you would be occupied with…things.  Besides, I like it up here."
    "But it’s cold," he said, a smile beginning to tug at the corners of his mouth.
    "Yeah.  I like it."
    Kate tentatively glanced at Angel.  He met her gaze and smiled, and she was a bit horrified to feel the blood rushing to her cheeks.  Suddenly, his expression changed, too.  He shifted his weight and studied something on his right.  He looked embarrassed, and Kate felt even more humiliated.
    "Kate, I—I need to ask you a question." He looked up at her, uncertain.
    "Shoot," she said, trying desperately to be nonchalant.
    "I know you don’t normally…I mean, you’re not usually the type that…" His voice died in mid-thought.
    "What?" she pressed, eyes narrowing in curiosity.
    "Never mind.  I just thought I should ask you before I did anything stupid." Angel stuffed his hands in his pants pockets, a clear sign that he was keeping something hidden.
    "Just do it.  Believe me, almost nothing you do can shock me anymore," she said, allowing herself a rare smile.
    He raised his eyebrows, the smile returning slowly.  She was just beginning to smile back when, abruptly, she found herself in Angel’s arms.  She was afraid to return his embrace, but she couldn’t have stopped herself.
    "Was that all you wanted?" she asked after they had both pulled away.
    "Um, yeah.  I mean, we’ve never really…so I thought…"
    "Right.  Good thought."
    He smiled again and looked away, and they went back to standing in silence.  Kate unceremoniously broke it a few minutes later.
    "Angel, I need to tell you something," she said softly, and she was barely able to keep her voice from quavering.
    "Are you okay?" he asked, and she amusedly noted his predictable jump to the worst conclusions.
    "Yes…no.  I don’t know.  I just—I really have to say this." She turned to him and looked him squarely in the eye.  "Angel.  Angel, I—"
    A scream of pain from inside the hotel echoed everywhere.  The vampire tensed, grim recognition clouding his features.
    "It’s Cordy.  I have to go.  I’m really sorry, Kate, but it can wait, right?" he said, and he was now at the door to the stairs.  "I’ve got to go to her, but I’ll come back, okay?"
    Kate had barely replied with a faint "okay" when he was already racing down to the lobby to help Cordelia.  He was gone, and she knew in her gut that he was gone for good.  She also knew it was for the best.  So, she turned back to the sky, her eyes glistening with unshed tears.
 

    "Cordy!  Cordy!" Angel shouted as he practically fell down the stairs.
    "Angel, come quickly!"
    "I’m coming as fast as I can, Wesley!"
    "Well, come faster!"
    The Seer was convulsing violently on the floor of the lobby, and she was screaming in agony.  Angel was at her side in a moment, cradling her in his strong arms.  The scent of fresh blood jumped out at him, and he discovered a thin trickle of blood leaving Cordelia’s left nostril.  Wesley wiped it away.
    The seizures went on for another twenty minutes, and all the while, Angel held her tightly to him.  The blood kept coming, and Wesley stayed, handkerchief close at hand.  When Cordelia’s body finally stopped seizing, Angel stroked her hair and whispered to her.  Far and away, this had been the worst vision episode yet.  Angel was concentrating so much on comforting and protecting her that he didn’t hear her say his name at first.
    "Angel," she repeated.
    "I’m here.  Don’t try to talk now," he said in soothing tones.  His face was a mask of agony for her.
    "I have to talk now," she said, her voice raspy.
    Angel saw there was to be no arguing with her.
    "Okay, but take it slow." Angel picked her up and carried her to the chair Wesley had brought over.  "What did you see?"
    "Not what, but whom." She massaged a temple.  "This…this wasn’t a normal vision.  It wasn’t really a vision, actually.  It—it was a message.  A message for you."
    "For me?  What message?" Angel inquired, mildly confused.
    "They’ve decided to get rid of you themselves," she murmured as she squeezed her eyes shut against the pain.  "Well, get rid of the threat of you, anyway."
    "Who?" Angel pressed patiently.
    "The Senior Partners," she whispered, opening her eyes.  She didn’t care that the tears welling up would ruin her makeup.
    "They sent you the message?  Did you see them?" Wesley urged, and there was an edge of curiosity in his voice.
    "Yes…and yes." Cordelia shuddered to remember them.  "They said a lot of stuff I couldn’t begin to repeat, but they are severely pissed at you, Angel.  None of their lackeys seem to be able to do the job right, so they’ve decided to finish it off themselves.  Such team players, those Senior Partners."
    "That makes sense," Wesley mused, pacing slowly.  "Lindsey is at large, Lilah is dead, Gavin is dead, Watson is dead, Holland is dead, and the list goes on and on.  It’s no wonder they would resort to getting personally involved."
    "What are they planning?  Did they tell you?" Angel asked, remaining calm.
    "And what are they?" Wesley added.
    "I can’t answer the first question unless I answer the second.  Well, actually the third question, but who’s counting?  Anyway, they’re not people.  They’re not even demons.  They’re…" She broke off, searching for the right description.  "I saw them, but there wasn’t much to see.  It’s like…it’s like they don’t really exist in our reality.  I don’t know where their bodies are, or even if they have them, but the way they exist here is by entering someone’s consciousness.  Does that make any sense at all?"
    Wesley, whose mind had been racing at all this, nodded enthusiastically.
    "Yes, absolutely it does.  I wonder if this means the Senior Partners inhabit host bodies," Wesley said to himself.
    "I doubt it," said Fred as she entered the lobby.  "It’s probably more like we communicate with them within the confines of our own mind.  The Senior Partners are non-corporeal beings that enter a mind at will, thereby giving the person the false sense that they are in an entirely different reality where the non-corporeal being appears corporeal.  In a sense, our perception of reality is repositioned so it points inward to the inner consciousness, and that allows the Senior Partner to interact with us.  Any effects of physical contact within this consciousness-reality would actually manifest as mental or psychological.  At least, that’s what I’m kinda figuring is the case."
    "Oh my God, Fred.  That’s it exactly," Cordelia said, astonished.  "That’s how they gave me the message."
    "They must have unlimited power," remarked Wesley gravely.  "They can destroy someone without laying a hand on them.  Perhaps they can even control minds, as well."
    "I’d say that’s a definite possibility," Fred said unhappily.
    "But what are they going to do to me?" Angel said, his control beginning to fade.
    "Um, they made some threats.  Nothing big, really.  They want to meet you in person.  I gather that unless you’re an antenna for the Powers," and she pointed to her head, "They can’t get into your mind if you’re not in close proximity to them.  If that wasn’t the case, they’d have fished around in your head and not mine."
    "What makes them think I’m going to agree to this?" Realization suddenly dawned on the vampire.  "Cordelia, what threats?"
    "Nothing huge.  I mean, nothing apocalyptic." She tried to smile reassuringly and failed terribly.
    Angel knelt in front of her and took her hands.  The silver ring on her finger felt like ice against Angel’s normally cold skin.
    "What will they do?" His quiet seriousness demanded an answer.
    Cordelia looked reluctant.  She knew what this would do to him, what he would force himself to be capable of, but she also knew she couldn’t keep it from him.
    "They said…they said they would kill me if you don’t face them."