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NAME: cordelia chase // NICKNAMES: cor, cordy, queen c // PLACE OF Birth: 01.14.1999 // CURRENT LOCATION: sunnydale // BORN: los angeles // AGE: 21 // EMPLOYER: angel investigations // SPECIES: seer // MOTTO: we help the helpless // OFFICE: hyperion hotel // FAMILY: mr. and mrs. chase // SEXUALITY: heterosexual // LAST RELATIONSHIP: it's complicated // CURRENT RELATIONSHIP: even more complicated // TATTOOS: sun, lower back // BEST FRIENDS: angel, wes, gunn, fred, lorne

then & now


We all have a story. From the moment I was born I was people would look at me and say that girl is going to be a star. Head Turner. Center of Attention. Miss Popularity. Pageant Queen. You could say I was destined for the spot light. Destiny. What's funny about the word destiny is we toss it around like it means something like, but it really doesnt. No one is destined in life. Or at least thats what I thought until I met Buffy Anne Summers. The freak of nature also known as the slayer became quite the thorn in my side. It wasn't like she was a threat to me reign, please. She was a threat to my life, humanity, and future. She was a magnet for trouble and therefor made my school ground zero for all things supernatural. Everything you ever dreaded was under your bed, hiding behind your closet, or waiting for you in the shadows, but told yourself it couldn't be by the light of day. Turns out? They're real. And they're all chasing after Buffy and where does she bring them? To Sunnydale.The others, her gang of misfit friends, Willow, Xander, and Giles, they say it's not her fault. Apparently we live on some kind of hellmouth. Right. For sixteen years I lived a pretty doom and gloom free life, so call me crazy, but I don't think it's a concidence that when goldilocks comes running into town that our town becomes a supernatural zoo of bad news.So this is where my story begins. This whole time, sixteen years, and I think my life has already begun and I'm on my path to becoming this extroadinary starlett. But, then I find out there are things like vampires, demons, and ghosts in the world. You can't just go back to nailpolish, fashion magazines, and kissing boys after finding out something like that. Now it's not about graduating highschool anymore, its about surviving. I wish I could say when I found out about Buffy and her band of losers I just walked away, but I didn't. To my defense being chased after, kidnapped, and tortured did play a huge role in my decision to be friends with the Scooby Gang. What can I say I'm a huge believer in keep your friends close and you're enemies closer, especially when they're the ones with the weapons and expert fighting skills. And yes so sometimes when you sleep with enemy you actually do sleep with the enemy, or find a really musty broom closet to make out in with. Alright. It's true. Yes. I, Cordelia Chase, actually did date loser Xander Harris, yes that happened. It was high school, hormones were on high, and when you spend every week narrowally escaping death smoochies are bound to happen and Xander was well just there. I'm Cordelia, freaking, Chase and if I wanted to kiss some frogs before I met a prince it was my damn choice and nobody could make me feel ashamed of that. I was Queen C I dictated social rules, so if I wanted to make an exception, I damn well would. Plus, it's not like he was totally hopeless. Aside from being a walking fashion disaster (which hello, totally fixable, once he started letting me dress him it wasn't even a thing anymore) he actually showed some potential. That's right I said it. Xander Harris had potential, he was funny, sweet, and caring. He didn't take sh*t from anyone, not even me, and I kind of admired that. It was a great sparring partner in all exchanges of wit and humor. What can I say he kept me on my toes. He wasn't just some lap dog, panting for my acception. He was actually smart-- keyword was. That was until he cheated on me with Willow, freaking, Rosenburg. After that, all bets were off. The Scooby Gang was Enemy Number 1 and no one was safe. I'm not a sniveling whiny little Cry-Buffy. I'm the nastiest girl in Sunnydale history. I take crap from no one.

WWho ever said your glory days would be the ones you had back in high school was an idiot. My life may have begun the day Buffy Summers came to Sunnydale, but I didn't start living till I moved to Los Angeles, in L.A. the story wasn't about Buffy anymore, I regained my spot light. There was more room in the world for more than just one type of hero. Sure, I didn't wield a sword or anything like that, but I joined the good fight-- I became someone who helped the helpless even if at first that meant just answering the phones and creating invoices for Angel. The point was I walked away from a possible college education or future in acting to save lives. I, Cordelia Chase, made a difference in the world. I wasn't just bait girl anymore. I was someone Angel could count on. Life was kind of amazing in Los Angeles. At first Angel was really cheap about salary, but then one of my first responsibilities became pay-roll. Hello, raise. After, a certain unspoken of raise thing's were all uphill from that. I basically chose my own hours and some days the phone didn't even ring which always provided a perfect opportunity to go shoe shopping and did I mention Los Angeles was the Meccah of shoes? It's where shoes were born. Suddenly, life was looking pretty damn spectacular. I had a Starbucks, my own fabulous apartment, designer clothing stores, and a place to go for hot yoga.There was only one hiccup. I had a co-worker, Doyle. It's not what you think. We didn't fight over desk space or anything like that, he was actually great to work with. Sure his taste in clothes left a lot to be desired, A LOT. And yeah, he was a bit of a cornball and was rarely sober, but god help me for saying this he was kind, sweet even. Yeah, yeah, I see the pattern too. So I might have a thing for the good guys, so what? There was this night, after a date, not with Doyle, but a vampire came out of no where and I probably could have handled it if it weren't for some unwise choice in footwear. Thankfully, Doyle took care of it and he didn't hesitate to put himself between me and trouble.When you grow up you learn a few things and one of the things I learned is you don't take a good man for granted, that's why I was I had settled on the idea of asking out Doyle. If it wasn't for a little work getting in the way it probably would have been an awkward disaster followed by more awkward dates, hasty kisses, fumbling hands and nervous fondeling, and eventually probably the makings of a really cute relationship, but I'll never know. Doyle died and it turns out that wasn't the hiccup. In my life I've found nothing is ever what it seems. It wasn't his death that surprisingly that had the hugest impact on my life, it was what happened before that. The kiss. After the first vision I understood Doyle's need to drink. I'm not a woman who uses profanities often, but insert explicit language here. Buffy Summer's thought her job was tough, try having the PTB renting out space in your cranium. The pounding, thumping, piercing, lightening hot, eletric, stabbing, slicing, and tearing feeling of a vision exploiting your mortality. The first few months were bad, the next two years were excruiciating. Every atom in my body felt like it was being tortured. I probably should have spoke up, but part of me deep down thought it was my debt to society. We all had things we needed to atone for, this is how I atoned for mine. Aside from dying a low painful death, it was still a good job. We had a good thing going at Angel Investigations. After Doyle, Angel and I enlisted the help of Wesley, Gunn, Fred, and even Lorne. We were a family. And just like any family there were some bumps, a few fights, and a couple of time outs. Angel was the champion, he did a majority of the saving. Wesley was the brains, he called the shots. Gunn was the muscle, he provided the back up. Fred was the wacky scientist, she created weapons for Angel. Lorne was the empath, he saw peoples true intentions. And me? I'm vision girl, The Power That Be's girl, Angel's guiding light. The best part? Angel snatched this ancient scroll from Wolfram & Heart, some sort of Shan-Shu business that says he's going to become a real boy. Angel, with the ability to tan, and somehow this makes the work mean more. At first Angel was just this thing to oogle out, salty goodness, but somewhere down the line he became more. It's not what you're thinking. I wasn't hot for my boss. He was my best friend. I know, how do you become best friends with a vampire? Angel was different, it wasn't just the soul,it was more than that-- he had layers. I didn't care that the visions were killing me because I believed in the work I was doing. I believed in Angel's future. He is a guy who has known nothing but torment and sadness, being told he was worthless, nothing, evil, but there was redemption in his future, a second chance and I wanted to be apart of that. I was willing to make any sacrifice to help him achieve it, even my humanity. When the visions became to much and I found out there was a loophole, I didn't care what it meant, I took it. So that's my story I guess? I met the slayer, found out there was this whole supernatural life, went to go work for a vampire, became a demon, and joined in the good fight against evil. Did I mention I was a queen of an entire universe?

would you rescue me


would you get my back?

Groups: ANGEL INVESTIGATIONS, NOBODYS PRINCESS,

     surgeon of mean's Details
Characters: Cordelia Chase
Verses: btvs. ats. tvd. spn. psychological au
Playbys: Charisma Carpenter
Length: Multi Para, Novella
Genre: Any,
Member Since:January 13, 2015



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Cordelia QUEEN C Chase

header down goes here


moved to a city in a broke down car, now you're looking pretty in a hotel bar

DEAD MAN WALKING - I can't remember what it was like - not knowing you, not being close to you. I'm in love with you Angel — thats what I would have said, ya know if we ever got to the bluffs, but we didn’t, somehow, somewhere I was intercepted. Like my love life didn’t suck enough as it was. Xander Harris? Half Demon Doyle? Random Impregnating Joe? Groo? I’m a freaking magnetic for complicated. Just this once, a small break, is that too much to ask for? I’d given up on money, fame, fortune, and recently even mental and physical health, but can a girl just get a date? Angel had attacked Wolfram and Heart for the last time, his cat and mouse games with them, finally baited them to the table, and yeah, boy, howdy, they put all their chips in. So, that’s how I ended up here, serving 9 to 10 as Lindsey McDonalds wife to be if Angel doesn’t step up and save me. Can he undo what Wolfram and Heart created? Will I even want him to? I have a whole life now, a career, a fiance, a home, I haven’t had a vision in days, weeks, maybe months, it’s hard to tell, mind wipe and all. I don’t remember the supernatural world, all I know is I’m happy. Happy-ish? Okay, it’s all manufactured crap. Lindsey’s crap. Normal’s crap. I know somethings missing, I might not know who he is, but I feel him, when he’s around, I feel it.

so baby pull me closer bite that tattoo on your shoulde we aint ever getting older

THE HERO - As if life wasn’t complicated enough being a teenager living on a hellmouth, going to work for my supernatural crime fighting arch nemesis’s vampire ex-boyfriend with a soul, guided by a part demon and his visions, visions he then passed onto me, until my eventual death, I came back, thanks powers, to a city that didn’t look the same, to friends that didn’t remember me. But it wasn’t just that, it was that he didn’t remember. I thought my life as a seer was complete, I got my champion on his path, and then bam, I get a shiny bright reward, and do over, but so did he, except they really hit the reset button on Angel. Or should I say Agent Seeley Booth? They rewrote his entire life, so instead of helping the helpless, they gave him a government issued gun, badge, and oh did I mention the two kids and ex wife. See? Complicated. Go figure, now that he can tan, and have happiness, and then some, he becomes this whole other Joe, Joe Big Government, with weird socks, and inappropriate belt buckles. Cocky? How about, arrogant? Temperamental? Stubborn? And infuriatingly handsome. He still has that dumb lopsided grin when he says something entirely goofy or and that smug smirk when he know’s he’s right, and those eyes, there still Angel’s eyes. He’s still Angel. Sure, he might not be mine anymore, not that he ever really was, you kinda have to stick around long enough to call someone your boyfriend before you stake claim, but he was mine-ish, we had a connection, ya know beyond champion and seer, there was a friendship, a dependence, real feelings. Maybe that’s why fate through us back together? Kyrumption, and all that.

you look as good as the day I met you
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surgeon of mean's Friends Comments
Displaying 10 of 42 comments (View All | Add Comment)
deadmanwalking

Apr 25th 2020 - 1:44 AM




my girl. heart
TʜᴇXᴇᴘᴘᴏ

Apr 24th 2020 - 6:53 PM



Me. Staring?
Never.
THE HERO.

Aug 11th 2019 - 9:28 PM


#THEHERO #SURGEONOFMEAN #2019/08/11
I WANT YOU OUT OF MY HEAD,

He wanted to tell himself it was better for her to be away from him. Booth had told himself that every time he lost a girl, every time he had to doubt that he did the best for them. But the way Cordelia was rung in his head with a resounding thump. Booth fell in love so many times before, but this one was different. This time, his heart strung a chord that was a thousand times more difficult to ignore. He knew it wasn’t just his feelings, but the Angel that Cordelia probably wanted to see wanting her too. But I’m Booth, I have kids and I’m human. She’s looking for a vampire. He let his voice come out in a shaky sigh, the first sign of having been a little affected by everything that happened in the past five minutes. Threats against Bones, Cordelia rejecting him. He was starting to understand that he was probably not the all attractive, all knowing FBI hero that he always thought he was. This might be the firs ttime that Booth really felt rejected, and in all honesty, he wished it had been Bones instead.

  After the note was picked up, Booth had to watch her look at it, examine it. She had a good head on her shoulders. Booth had met so many profilers and detectives in his time, many of which failed to ever give their clients any sense of confidence. For a cheap affair detective, she definitely knew how to make somebody feel good about themselves. Where Booth took a step away from her, to compose himself, he saw how she handled the idea that someone wanted her to be dead. He pinched the bridge of his nose, looked away from her, and tried to inhale as much fresh air as he could. Not only had he confronted vampires in the span of a half hour, but he’d also realised how dangerous this entire affair really was. Cordelia wasn’t afraid. Booth supposed it was because she was still assuming Angel would protect her with all he had.

    A selfless love was probably closer to what she felt for Angel. Angel who had at some point been allowed to have a human heart and given a nice, human identity as a soldier who served in Iraq. Booth felt his muscles tense with the idea that maybe some of his merits hadn’t been earned. He had no idea who he was, and part of him felt as if it needed to rediscover these things. How much of him would disappear if he got to know who Angel was? How much was legitimate?

    Any sort of reconciling words fell on deaf ears. Booth felt a sense of guilt now when he realised he wasn’t even that worried about Bones. He looked down at Cordelia, let his shoulders shrug a little, and kept his expression somber. She shouldn’t have to know that he was upset because she didn’t return his feelings. He misread some signs, misread something about her. Booth wasn’t that good with women, even if he wanted to be. He breathed out in a puff, and then took out his car keys. The vehicle beeped, and he didn’t bother arguing with her. Where did she want to go? What heart did she want to break now? Cordelia the heartbreaker was a good villains name.

    But he could also picture her as just Cordelia, a girl who fell in love with some sort of a vampire. Memories twined together. Booth let out an irritated groan, then just agreed with her and silently went along to the hotel.

    There, he changed out of the trench coat and jeans combo and back into a suit with a white shirt. It felt comfortable to have the expensive Hugo Boss suit back around him, with a familiar pair of yellow and pink striped socks and his belt hidden under his clothes. He could look at himself in the mirror when he had them on and not see someone else looking back at him. Cordelia’s words fell on deaf ears while he tried to contemplate how he could even talk to her. Did she not know that rejecting someone made them antisocial? What kind of person did she think he was, who didn’t care that he loved her and couldn’t be with her?

    “I’m not Angel,” he said, into the mirror. He gave the mirror a funny expression, with eyebrows raised and face scrunched up. “I’m Booth. Seeley Booth. FBI Agent. I’m Booth who has three kids. I am not Angel.”



    It sounded insane, what he was saying to himself in the mirror. He didn’t know what prompted him to talk to himself instead of answering Cordelia. He hadn’t said a word since they drove away from the bar, gotten away from a stressful situation that could have resorted in the two of them dying. Booth missed Washington and the familiarity of crime scenes. He folded arms over his chest, let himself make a serious expression. “I’m Booth,” he repeated. But the unfamiliar man who stared back looked younger, broodier and awkward in the suit. “… I’m, Angel,” he said, a little louder than intended. The confusion was probably more telling of how stupid he sounded. “Nevermind—” he told himself, and turned away.

THERE'S NO WAY I CAN SAVE YOU, 'CAUSE I NEED TO BE SAVED TOO

    Hopefully no one had heard him. No one needed to know how confusing it was to lose your identity.

    Cordelia was already out of the shower, in a towel. And like she’d predicted, Booth turned to a wall and gave it a very serious, very important glare. “I’m not gonna look,” he offered. His voice sounded unusual, blatant and lacked a very positive tone. Booth found every second changing him. The more he was around Cordelia, the less of Seeley Booth he could see in himself. Someone else was invading him. Cordelia’s boyfriend, a vampire? Or maybe he was finally going insane.

    When she’d changed, he turned around and subconsciously had to lift his hand and play with his tie. She looked good. He knew the clothes, Bones sometimes dressed like this when they went out, before she had kids. Bones was gorgeous, but Cordelia was different. A type of beautiful he hadn’t seen before. She looked innocent despite obviously being every 90’s movie queen bee character he’d ever seen. Despite himself, Booth had to lift his hand and wipe away at his cheeks. Blood rushed to them, letting him know he was a little too attracted to her.

    Just remember, she loves Angel. Not me. Never me.

    He carefully extracted his cellphone, dialed some number, and lifted it to his cheek. “Hey, Cam. I need a favour. Yeah, I’m still with her. I texted some coordinates. Have Arastoo look over the bones you find there, identify what killed them. I want an ID, you have to compare it to a historical archive. Don’t ask questions about why,” he ordered, quickly. If they could get the bones from inside of that pit called Sunnydale and find actual bodies it was one step closer to what they needed. “Did you get any leads on Bones?”

    “You should probably stay there, Agent Booth. Something strange happened. The database was hacked, and someone got information about all of us,” Arastoo’s voice interrupted. “Including you.”

    Booth’s heart hammered in his chest. He put the phone on speaker – so Cordelia could hear the precious conversations he had with the Jeffersonian. “There’s something else, someone left an entire locked file on our system. We can’t get the password, but we forwarded it to your confidential email. It’s probably a password based around an algorithm, from what an intern could gather, it has to do with that big company.. Wolfram and Hart? We did a preliminary scan, it might be information to help us find Dr. Brennan.”

    Angel knew the company, but he knew almost nothing about it. Went bankrupt years ago, stopped being relevant. He looked down at Cordelia inquisitively. “Yeah, got it. Anything else?” “Just take care. We’re waiting for you and Dr. Brennan. The kids are staying with my father, so don’t worry about that,” Arastoo explained.

    When the phone cut, Booth had a clear reminder of who he really was. Too much time spent around Cordelia put him in a heady daze where he was forgetting who he was. He was Booth, an FBI agent, Bones best friend, her ex-husband and a father. He had an entire building of squints to look after. He finally felt something like confidence boost back into him. When he looked at Cordelia, gone was the apprehensive, broody frown he knew he had the entire time. He could smile, relax himself, and do something more in his area of expertise – supervise squints.

    After a minute, he grabbed his laptop, conveniently stored to one side, turned it on, opened his email, and opened the email that Arastoo sent him. It was a locked file, a four letter combination. There was an even more significant hint: temporary head of legal department.

    “I think it’s a name,” he commented, even though he did a brief google search. There wasn’t much left about W&H, even though it had been a leading law firm at some point. “Something in this file is important. It might not have to do with Bones, but if it helps anybody, I want to see,” he decided. He offered the laptop out to her.



I'm no good at goodbyes.

THE HERO.

Aug 10th 2019 - 10:29 PM


#THEHERO #SURGEONOFMEAN #2019/08/10
CULTISH,


You were the one who made the world make more sense than it had in over a century. More than it ever did. You made all of us whole, connected us. Without you, everything fell into shambles. We had no way to reconnect the pieces. To be whole again, we had to separate. None of us can do this without you, even a couple years later. We’re slow, we’re old, and we’re ready to give up the fight. It’s not easy.

  They spent so much time apart, that the few times they came together were rare. When they did, it was barely tolerable for any of them to truly talk to one another. In all of the time apart, he spent a considerable portion of his time assessing his world, forming new equations to his every move, trying to find what could make them feel whole again. The answer was the same. It wasn’t a building, it wasn’t a place – it was a person, who never came back to them once she’d been taken away. It was cruel, and the whole of their efforts fell to waste at every given opportunity. It was time to accept the truth. They were better off separated, unable to work as a functioned whole. They could handle the evils of Los Angeles and America better apart than as a whole, because the various bits of glue, the connecting piece, had been a teenager from Sunnydale who thought fashion was the pinnacle of human creation.

  This particular day was important. It marked the only day they would all converge together in Los Angeles to visit a gravesite. Two graves were very real, very tangible. They held bodies in them. The others were in memoriam, and simply served as markers for those who’s bodies were not or could not be recovered. It was her birthday – Cordelia – and it was a day they chose to honour her. These visits became yearly, but since he’d acknowledged her birthday as most important, he had also decided it would be the occasion to visit most. Be a part of something again, experience more than the guilt that plagued his existence. He let another few lives fall apart, the demon inside of him more likely to swallow and consume him whole than it was to help him remove the feeling of guilt.

    He exited the black Chevy Charger he purchased some few weeks ago, devoid of a real name. The gravesite was empty, only the sound of wind, rain pounding on the ground, and night entering the area at midnight. Hands shoved in his pocket, until the telltale sound of his cheap, $15 a month flip phone rung in his pocket. He lifted the phone, pressed it to his ear, and took in the hurried voice on the other end. Gunn, now two years older and physically years less capable of running and jumping like he did before, was the first voice to fill his ears. “Angel, we gotta problem,” he said, breath staggered. Are you late, he wanted to ask. Did you forget what today is? Did you forget what it means to her?

    But he didn’t. He gave a sort of grunt of approval, just to listen. “That coven we investigated of Mormons, they’ve been kidnappin’ girls from graves and trying to force souls into the corpses,” Gunn added. He was quick to get to the point, something Angel appreciated. But what he said wasn’t as important as what they had to do now. Tapped his foot on the ground, let out an impatient sound. Finally, with rain still beating down on his head, he considered the condition of his flip phone (not waterproof) and the fact that the sun rose in five hours. He considered how he wanted to do this quickly, and the flowers in his other hand were not waterproof either. “We’ll investigate it after we go see Cordy,” he decided. “I can’t be there, Angel. I’ll go later—”

    Phone cut off, Angel slid it into his pocket. He walked up the paved steps to the graveyard, bypassing gates and ducking his head low from any intrusive stares that might pervade the night. He was the only person here at midnight, the only person who resisted wind and rain to visit someone in the dead of night. The abnormality of his very presence elicited the worst of reactions from those who didn’t know what lurked in the night. Cloaked by how he blended into the dark, he made his way towards a grave located in the far east quadrant. It was surrounded by other graves, but the one most familiar to him had special markings, denoting how important she had been to them all.

    At approaching the grave, his feet came to a still. His head lowered, until he could make out the horrifying reality of what was in the grave. Undisturbed for two years, the grave should have remained buried six feet under, with dirt covering the top layer and a neat little notch of different flowers from the year littering the top. Instead, the circumstances permitted an open coffin, dirt on either side, and the emblem of the Mormon Cult of Satan carved into the gravetop. The lillies, in a white, that he purchased hours before were dropped on the ground, and he turned to make a mad dash back to his vehicle. His feet pounded along tarmac until he approached the vehicle, pulled the door open and slid into the driver seat. It turned on with a roar, giving way to an ancient sound in car consumption of gas that would have made most people shake their heads. His phone was out in an instance, fingers flickering over the various numbers until he hit the new number for Gunn.

    “I told you I couldn’t make it right now, Angel. It’s midnight for f***s sake—”

    “Meet me at that cults village. Now. Those bastards took Cordelia.”

    The conversation ended there, and he revved off onto the local highway to make his way to where he recalled the cult originally residing. Unlike Gunn, who was probably in the area, he would take the next hour to reach there. Plans formed in his mind, mostly bordering reconnaissance and other forms of gathering information. But the most important thought was making sure they didn’t take her body and turn her into a disturbed, unintelligible version of some sort of a demon.

    The vehicle slid off the highway ramp and down a dusty roadway. Signs of technology faded away, giving way to old farm houses. He didn’t see indicators of the cult until he noticed an obvious sign of Gunn and Illyria already being here – Illyria standing seamlessly beside one of the buildings. His car halted with a screech, turned along the road, and he skidded to a stop right alongside Illyria. He almost jumped out of his seat, slammed the car door shut, and watched Gunn finally pop out of the building. He was dressed casually, but as per his new requirements, he had a bulletproof vest and various weapons on him. He slowly took in Angel’s hurried behaviour and produced shots. Pictures.

    Angel grabbed them, and took a glance down at the disturbing pictures.

    Cordelia in Mormon attire, sitting on a chair.

  Cordelia kneeling infront of a cow.

    Cordelia praying infront of a convoluted cross.

    It was like someone else was inhabiting her body. Probably a demon. The hair, despite being tied up in a net, was the curly, shoulder length brown he knew she died in. He could see dough eyes, big and brown, looking at things from within the picture. The slender form, long legs and big smile that had once been a key to holding Angel Investigations through torment and loss were turned away from them and now a part of some cult.

    But no, it wouldn’t happen. He would never allow it.

    He allowed these pictures to be taken. Then he looked away, inhaled what he had learned. “I’ve got a plan,” he decided. “But we’re going to have to get close to the demon, get rid of it, and take her back.”

    “You think they chose her on purpose?” Gunn asked.

    “She’s a seer. Whoever’s in her body can probably see things coming. I don’t wanna risk it. The sooner the better. Illyria can pretend to be a corpse, We’ll dress like two of the Mormons.”

    “This is a stupid idea, Angel…”

    “… I’m in a rush.”

    Within ten minutes, Illyria became a frazzled, brown haired Fred, and allowed herself to lay on the ground. Angel managed to don some sort of a Mormon outfit, but kept the hat low to keep from exposing himself to sun in case he had to step out. Gunn chose to wear a similar black ensemble. Gunn lifted Illyria, put her in a wheelbarrow, and they both turned and walked towards where Gunn said the cult primarily kept itself during its most intense ceremonies.

    “How are we going to get the demon out?” Gunn asked, in a voice that really didn’t sound confident in his plans. Angel didn’t reply. He didn’t know how, not at this exact moment. This had happened to Cordelia before, and she hadn’t come back from it the same. “We’ll kidnap it and her body,” he decided, on the spot. “If they put a demon in there, I’m hoping it can’t tell who we are.”

    Finally, they knocked on the front door of the building, larger than the others, and Gunn made sure he was behind Angel. The door opened, revealing a timid looking man in a similar outfit. “’ello, what can I do for ya’ll?” he asked. “We’ve got another girl, father,” Angel answered, trying to discern what the old man was. The man looked past him, at Gunn, then at Illyria. He squinted, and then seemed to acknowledge how innocent Fred looked. How innocent she was when the body had been Fred. The holes in their plan were being revealed quickly. “You can leave the black one outside, bring the girl in y’erself. High Priestess Cordelia will need to see her,” the old man explained.

    High Priestess? What?

  Angel took Illyria from Gunn, noting with discomfort how heavy Illyria felt. He turned back to the man, who permitted his entry. Gunn stood where he was, awkwardly.

    Angel followed after him, and immediately saw just what the cult did. Satanic worship signs everywhere, real runes showing demonic possession and demonic ascension. While on the surface, it seemed like any other satanic cult, there was a key difference to it. Angel saw a female goddess at the center of this. A female Satan? He could read the runes more clearly as they walked along, with Illyria pretending to be dead and also occasionally opening her eyes to read the runes. “They look for a girl who is a seer, and tie her to them,” Illyria whispered, reading more of the runes. Angel was interested sure. But he didn’t know how he’d react to something that spelled disaster. “She is tied here by her memories being replaced, so the cult can have a seeress as a priestess,” Illyria continued. "But apparently, they find the real soul.. in order to make this priestess come to life." SHe may have continued, but they had to quieten down in order to see what came next.

    They exited the corridor and approached a solitary room. Stairs lead downward in a separate direction.

    Finally, a room emerged. Inside was a table, and a fancy, wooden chair. The chair was raised up like a throne, with a woman clad in the same black, drab attire seated there. It was the face looking at him that made Angel wish he had a heart to hammer in his chest. He was relieved he couldn’t perspire in stressful situations. But his hands became strained simply from gazing at her, taking in the lack of recognition in her eyes. But he could see this was no demon, if only because of the way her eyes mimicked every innocent, brown haired female in every 90’s chick flick that Angel had watched with her and Doyle in the early days of their work.

    “This is the High Priestess, newly awakened from her long slumber. High Priestess Cordelia will judge whether or not this girl is fit to take the spirit of the Sataness,” the little man said. He turned to walk out, and Angel, feeling alone with the person he hadn’t seen or heard in years, took a step forward.

    His voice dropped, husky, concerned. “Cordelia?” he asked, hesitantly.

THE HERO.

Jul 28th 2019 - 10:35 PM


SMy comment before the one in the messages:
����� Like a scene out of the scariest childs movie. Where the vampires crowd around you and try to suck your soul out. FBI agent of the past decade, one of the best military sharpshooters, and catcher of serial killers Seeley Booth had his entire life flashing before his eyes and his heartbeat racing in ways that it had never done before. This was exactly what Bones meant by finding something he couldn't handle. A case that he didn't want to crack - and he decided to do it with a harmless wannabe prom queen behind him for backup. A really flimsy one.

����� Cordelia decided risque was her style and stepped between him and the female vampire with the big lips and the hungry eyes, immediately bringing herself into the limelight. Seeley felt his collar get tighter and felt sweat on his forehead, the first signs of tension. But the FBI training he had and the overall military experience kept him from really showing his worry. A cool, calm facade remained even when several other bloodthirsty humanoid looking creatures surrounded them in slow paces, eyes set between him and Cordelia, the old-age eluding likely in her thirties human. Booth didn't want to imagine what would happen if they knew he had a heartbeat. Didn't Vamps have extra-active hearing as well? No time to find out.

����� The first thing he did do was grab her hand. Warm, alive, human hand and tugged on her wrist towards the exit. From the reactions the vampires gave, it was safe to deposit a fair amount of pressure on his acting. Angel the Vampire scared these guys - an FBI agent might not do such a good job. Although he was mostly defenseless right now, he did look around for something he could use as a weapon. Cordelia was way ahead (leave it to her, not giving him a real weapon), with a stake, and he realised wood was the key. Wood was pointy, sharp, and easily nullified vampires. The nearest dispensible wooden object was a pool stick, not sharp on one side.

����� Seeley decided it was his break. He reached out to grab it, and held it up threateningly. Without wasting a moment, and using considerably less strength than he thought, he snapped it into two, and held one half in his hand. The other he dropped to the ground and kicked aside, in case he'd need it any moment now. The sharp half was enough to stab through someone, if it came to that. But his other hand, enclosed around Cordelia's, kept her from stepping away. "I've got all day," he explained, loudly, to the vampires. "But you won't if you attack me. Stay out of my way." It was his best impersonation so far, and to make sure it was believable, thirty-something year old Seeley Booth, father of three children, tried his best to look like a bachelor from a bad CW television series. A brooding, husky vampire. But despite the sheer ridiculousness, he realized the less he spoke the better. He couldn't pull off being dead. Didn't want to. Bones needs me. Cordy needs me right now. Despite how ridiculous Booth was for liking a girl who looked younger than him, might have been dating his alter-ego, and might even dislike him, he felt it anyway. And liberating was a weak word. Booth could feel the irritating radiate off of him. He turned and started towards the door, pool stick at hand, and the crowd parted for him. Or for Angel. In Booth's now entirely topsy-turvy mind, he thought, maybe they just parted because Cordelia had her clothes done up to look more like a high-school Regina George from Mean Girls..

����� It was a close call, and behind him, he heard them talking. There was things that a normal human being could pick up, and then there was the hearing capabilities of an FBI agent who spent time in Iraq, listening for the ticking sound of bombs. The voices of things that thought they were quiet, but really weren't. Just outside of the structure, Booth let go of Cordelia's hand and pressed his index finger to his mouth, holding it there for her to quiet down. He listened intently to their words, trying to descipher it out. He had to know.

����� "Angelus showing up outta nowhere? There's something we don't know here. And the doe-eyed brunette, I've seen her before too," a husky male voice continued. "In fact, I'd reckon seeing her looking the same years ago. It ain't adding up, boys." Besides the very misplaced accent, Booth also knew the doe-eyed girl had to be Cordelia. He didn't want her in trouble because of him. This was obviously way over her head. Bones was missing, he had a mostly harmless divorced-couple private detective wannabe working with him, and he was caught up in emotions. "You know how to get the best revenge on him, cut out those doe-eyes and bring them to McGuillicutty on a silver platter," one of them joked. His insides felt raw after hearing it, and he stepped away from the building. Looking finally back at Cordelia, he swallowed the lump in his throat, and took out the keys for his vehicle. The solid black four-wheeler beeped open, but Booth didn't really want to go. He wanted to go in there and burn the place up. It would be worth it. But it wasn't while she was there.

��� "Let's get out of here," he finally said. His voice was darker, quieter, and he didn't want her to hear the fear he had in his tone. "We're setting you on a first-class flight back to home. Out of my pocket," he added as an afterthought, even as he opened the door to the passenger side of the car, and looked away - at the ground, anywhere else. Guilt bubbled inside of him along with worry. She was at risk here. And it sounded like she was finally getting things in her life back in order, too. Once he knew she was safely inside, Booth walked to the back of his vehicle and opened the trunk. The back was full of some minor FBI-registered equipment. His standard bullet-proof vest, a gas-mask, some guns, and a handy bottle or two of beer just for the hell of it. He grabbed the vest, along with a gun, and walked around to the front of the vehicle. He dropped both items in her lap, and then turned his vehicle on. The four-wheeler churned to life, the soothing smell of a mini-Glade car airfreshener with lilac filled the air, but Booth's mood lowered more and more.

����� He didn't listen to her for the entire ride. Maybe she could tell. There was nothing but quiet this time, and contemplation. And brooding. The stress felt double. Like when Bones was caught by Zack, or when she was buried in the ground. The same tension, new girl. Old girl. He stopped the vehicle when they were at the hotel, parked it carefully. Zero damage on it, as per his driving record. He stepped out first, tried that fake, Booth-like smile. But it was hard. He heard and saw things now that made him worried. He knew that he had to do it alone. Without her.

����� He waited for her to exit the car, and the sight of the hotel, blaring, cheap lights, and the sound of people inside, left him with a sense of empty and irritated that he didn't think he had before now. He stepped towards her, knowing he was going way out of line now. Way beyond the territoty of an FBI agent and a younger-looking suspect. And standing infront of her, he waited to say his piece.

����� "You know why you have to go --

����� It isn't because you aren't useful. But because you're too useful. It's because these days have been hard. Because the more I get to know you, the more I know Angel and I probably aren't that different. And now I've gotta protect you.."

����� If there were tears, he didn't notice. He had to spill it now so she would go. Disgusted, annoyed, or returning his feelings. This was going to happen. "I'm gonna get a buddy to get your tickets. And I'll find this guy," he decided. "Because - Hey, don't do that-" He knew she was looking away, was denying going. But this was final.

����� "Look--"

����� "Look at me -
������������ Hey - I love you. I'm falling in love with you.
������������������������������
And I can't do that right now.
������������� I want you to be safe. So that you can go and live a life.
������������������������������������������ This is for you, as much as it is for me."



�����

deadmanwalking

Jul 25th 2019 - 3:09 AM


that's not why i need you.
       Being stuck at the bottom of the ocean could do things to a man-- especially when it was your own son who put the anchor on. A kid who hated him for what he was… past and present, hating him just like Holtz had. Holtz had successfully taken one of the things he had to look forward to each day and stripped it from him-- while the other thing that meant just as much-- well, no one knew what happened to. Not Wesley. Not Connor. Not even Gunn or Fred who had been working non-stop around the clock in order to not only find him, but also Cordelia who had conveniently disappeared at the same time. 

        Angel to the bottom of the ocean and Cordelia…god knows where.

    It drove Angel crazy not knowing-- it was months on months of barely any sleep, searching high and low-- for a clue, maybe someone who saw something-- heard something. The endless possibilities of what could have happened to Cordelia Chase muddled inside his brain almost every waking hour. Where was she-- who took her? And most importantly, why?

    The gang still searched for the seer off and on, but the trail went cold and there wasn’t much to look for. Hope seemed lost-- even to Angel who had no choice but to go on without her. There was still a job to do and Cordelia wouldn’t want his world to stop because of her… but that didn’t mean he would ever stop looking.

----

    “Yo-- Angel, open up!” Gunn’s voice reverberated past the mahogany wood door.

    The vampire, who was seated with paper clippings scattered of missing reports around him, lifted his gaze from them and over to the door. His free time consisted of the usual, brooding and searching for any leads that could pick up her trail again. It wasn’t unusual that Fred and Gunn would try and get him out of this hole, they had been trying for the last month. With a sign, he pushed out of his seat and moved to the door and opens it, both Gunn and Fred pushing past him.

    “Bro-- we gotta lead.”

    “A lead on Cordelia,” he asks quickly, pushing the door closed and following the couple into the room. “What did you find.”

    Gunn reaches into his pocket and pulls out and envelope-- the type for printed pictures. He opens it up and takes the photos out. “So my friend Jerry-- you know Jerry.” Angel nods, eyes glued to the pictures in his hands. “Well, Jerry was walkin’ his dog, past by Wolfram & Hart and guess who he saw?”

   As soon as the photos are extended out to him, he takes one, eyes gazing over the photo carefully that showed a nice BMW parked right outside the law-firm, two people getting into the car--- the faces stopping him dead in his tracks. One was Lindsey, not the biggest surprise, but the other? If his heart could beat, it would have stopped. “Cordelia.”

    “Yeah man, and look at these-- she doesn’t look like she’s havin’ a bad time.” Gunn hands him another picture where Cordelia is kissing Lindsey’s lips at the passenger-side door. 

    “Doesn’t mean she’s not---” He flips through the pictures again and again, trying to sift through his brains for answers. Wolfram & Hart was involved, there was no question about that, but how did he explain these pictures? This couldn’t be THEIR Cordelia… not in a million years. “Did Jerry get any more pictures-- did he follow them?”

    Gunn shook his head. “Nah, he said he snapped the photos and dipped-- called me when he got home.” 

                 “So what do you think this is-- you think maybe they kidnapped Cordelia and brainwashed her.”

     “Or that isn’t the real Cordelia and they’re purposely tryin’ to screw with us.... Again. Could be one of them I-Robots… saw an article on it-- sh*t’s real man.”

    “No.” Angel answers, shaking his head as he pondered thoughtfully. What was their game? Why did Wolfram & Hart want Cordelia and why would they sit and dangle it right in front of Angel? They had gone over this once before-- she was off limits. His whole team was for that matter. However, it wasn’t unusual that the rules changed, Angel was accustomed to it, but the taunting? He thought they were past that. “I think Fred might be right-- I want more information, though. I wanna track down Lindsey-- get his latest address.”

    Gunn and Fred both exchange glances before Fred nods. “Well, we actually got his address-- lives in a really nice penthouse on the northside.” She reaches into her pocket then retracts, pulling out a piece of paper that had an address scribbled on it.

    He takes it and gazes at it before he slips it into his pocket, glancing at the clock and seeing that past sundown. “I’ll head over there now-- you guys hang back.”

    “Uh-- do you think you should go tonight, I mean… not like you could get inside and we don’t even know if Cordy’s there,” Fred said, shyness still lingering in her voice-- she had grown comfortable with them all, but there was still that timid girl from Texas there. “Maybe Wolfram & Hart is setting us up.”

    Angel shakes his head, mind obviously made up as he swings on his leather duster. “I don’t think so. Jerry seeing her was too random. If they’re expecting me to find out they have her, it wouldn’t be today. I don’t think they have their guard up yet.”

   He’s almost half expecting a speech from Gunn about going in half-c*cked, but there’s only a nod from him. “Alright-- well, call if you need anything. You know I’m ready to throw down.”

The Next Day

  He saw her-- through large glass windows that surrounded the luxurious penthouse. Lindsey was a show-off, but this? This was something else. Bitterness rest on his tongue as he watched their night unfold. Cordelia had sat across from their enemy-- ate dinner with him… laughed with him. He came up behind her while she rinsed off the dishes and whispered something in her ear, things he wouldn’t dream of wanting to know, because it was taking every ounce of will that he had not to make any rash decisions. 

    The sight of him with her was ingrained in his head-- he couldn’t shove it out and spent most of the night stewing in the office. The night was spent more on imagining ways to kill Lindsey than actually formulating a plan which would have been helpful in a time like this. It seemed easier to act more irrational than go in without miscalculating a step. It wouldn’t be hard to catch them on the way home-- Take Lindsey out before rescuing Cordelia, but the matter of the fact was, did she even want to be saved? Could she?

    It’s around noon when he finally sits up in the office chair, reaching for the phone and dialing Wolfram & Hart’s front desk-- this was the worst plan yet and could reveal him being a step ahead too soon, but he took the chance anyway.

                    “Wolfram & Hart. Angela speaking.”

     “Hi, Angela,” Angel greets, accent laced with a tint of southern. “My name’s Dwayne Wallace from Maxfield’s boutique. I was told to call this number and ask for a Cordelia Chase. She recently got fitted for a few dresses and they’re ready for her. Is she in today?”

                     “I believe she is, let me transfer you Mr. Wallace.”

      The other end cut out to some random jazz tune, Angel leaning forward in his seat so elbows could rest on the oak desk. It was too long of a pause for his own liking-- thinking he may have blown it all. But then her voice came on the other end of the line and he swallowed hard. 

                              “Cordelia…”  
credit
Scourge of Europe

Jul 11th 2019 - 8:25 AM


YOU'RE BACK!

Wes

Jul 8th 2019 - 8:23 AM


-smiles sheepishly- I may have done a bit of dabbling...here and there...
Shall we get a storyline going?

Wes

Jul 7th 2019 - 8:32 PM


The dynamic duo is REUNITED
It is a vibe...or so I am told....
;)
Scourge of Europe

Aug 8th 2018 - 2:15 PM


scourge of europeThe Fallnow that’s poetry

        ”I joined a corporation that was quite literally evil incarnate. I thought I could channel their resources into something positive. In an existence defined by bad choices – that was my worst.”

The sun and its vividly beaming rays that shone proudly over metropolis just moments ago had fled the confines of the city. Shades of life – greens, yellows, and oranges plastered upon the leaves that swung in the trees with each passing current – were replaced with ashes and despair. Large clouds stretched over the atmosphere, the sky a tar-black as the clouds sheds its anthem upon the land with such ferocity – as if it, too, was saddened over the fallen soldiers that stood in the heart of the city. It didn’t take supernatural senses to feel the power, the sheer evil, that was clawing its way into the city, corrupting the Los Angeles atmosphere with ease – as if that had been the plan all along. The metallic scent of bloodshed began to spread upon the metropolis with each passing current and the ashes from the destruction consuming the city began to fall like snow. Vampires and demons had surfaced among the rubble, getting drunk off the scent of the blooming peril. Creatures of the night waved their talons to the sky in celebration – in triumph. Vampires licked their fangs in anticipation of the terror they would surely bestow among their pray, looking upon anyone with a pulse like a ripened crop for the taking. The evilest feigns marked their territory with the sweet life force of the innocents, declaring the city as theirs. Shrieks and pleads of their victims were combatting the crashing sound of the rain upon the cement. No remaining soul held any hope of salvation in the midst of such horror, such destruction – no one except them.

“I didn’t change them. They changed me. Then they killed her. That opened my eyes.”

Gunn, Illyria, Angel – and even Spike.
The humble four looked upon the hellions that marched toward them with such confidence, such lust for the kill amongst the anarchy that ensued. Their sole mission was clear – to feed, to kill as their gazes narrowed on the targets just before them. The ensouled vampire inhaled sharped as his chocolate orbs starred back at the mob charging at them.
“Any terms of a plan?” Spike asked.
“We fight,” Angel replied.
“Bit more specific?”
“Well personally,” he ambled towards the hellions, “I kinda’ wanna’ slay the dragon. Let’s get to work.” They were exhausted, bloodied, and outnumbered. The odds were well against them but the party refused to throw up their swords. It only stirred the passion, the fight, within Angel, rising from the pit of his stomach as he raised his sword, pulling it behind him like a baseball bat, daring to swing at any creature brave enough to come near him. One warrior sprinted towards the ensouled vampire as he released a roar from the deep in the chest. Angel swung the sword with ease, slicing through the demon’s neck until his head fell to the ground, his body soon followed suit. Angel kicked his head out of his path carelessly – this was not a time for civilities; it was a time of war. He stabbed another hellion in the gut that had charged after the former. With each warrior the ensouled vampire killed, three followed. The vampire’s attention turned to his peers, the waves of crimson that rained down Gunn’s jeans. Gunn gritted his teeth, breathing heavy through the pain from his battle wounds. His hues held the ghost of his torment as he swung his axe with all the might he could muster. He was losing steam – quickly.  

The blonde vampire’s features morphed into a creature of the night as he slid into the horde, falling between Gunn and the hellions attempting to corner the weakened soldier. The creatures could smell the metallic nectar that leaked from his wound, their gazed narrowed in on the soldier’s weakening stance with the hunger of a predator. He was inches away from death’s door and they wanted a taste. Spike was subconsciously breathing heavy as he pushed Gunn aside, “I got it, mate,” he breathed as he pulled back his clenched fist before lunging it toward the warrior. The warrior stumbled backward, attempting to regain its stance upon the concrete. “That’s righ’,” the blonde vampire punned, “daddy’s come to play,” doing a roundhouse kick to the creature’s gut. The malevolent warrior fell to the ground, trampled by his own men in their trance of bloodlust. Gunn’s trembling hand nurses his punctured flesh, his other hand finding the brick wall that stood behind him, guiding him to the ground as the world came crashing down around him, his orbs going blurry despite him putting pressure on the slash engraved in his gut.

“Err, little help here Angel,” Spike sounded as his gaze moved between the fallen Gunn and the battle. Angel grabbed one of the demons by the edge of his armor, swinging him around, flinging him with his vampiric might. The demon’s shell flew across the alleyway, his back crashing on the brick, crashing down on the resting dumpster. Angel whipped around, kneeling to Gunn’s side. “Don’t worry ‘bout me,” Gunn insisted through his teeth, his eyes drenched in certainty. “I’m gonna get you outta’ here,” Angel nodded curtly. “No,” Gunn retorted, “it-it’s what I deserve…after Fred…this is it for me, man.” Angel shook his head, “No..not like this.” The ensouled vampire looked around, desperate to find an escape out of the battlefield, out of the impending doom. He refused to let Gunn die in the depths of hell – not like this. Not to slaughtered like cattle and eaten like a prime steak. Not Gunn. Not now. Not ever. If this it, he would die with some sort of honor. Some sort of dignity.

  ”I took a stand. That was a while ago and ever since then…I’ve been trying to make up for it.”

  “I’m going to get out outta here,” he said sternly – he wasn’t sure if he was trying to convince himself or Gunn more. “Hold the fort,” Angel shouted towards his remaining team as both Spike and Illyria continued to fight the herd.“What will you do?” Illyria called back, her words cool and calm, as she waved her arm until it met the armor of yet another demon, the weight of the blow causing the demon and a few of the surrounding warriors out of the confines of the alleyway. Illyria turned back to the ensouled vampire, her water soaked hair clinging to her features and her cerulean orbs fixed upon him. Her breath was even and her demeanor remained unchanged from the fight. Unbent, unbroken, she stood. Angel blinked a few times, scanning the grounds, “I gotta’ get ‘em out of here,” Angel insisted. Illyria scanned Gunn up and down, giving the two one nod of understanding. “Very well,” she acknowledged, returning to the warzone. She did a roundhouse kick, knocking eight soldiers off their feet and onto the ground. She yanked Spike’s sword from his grasp, “Hey!” he argued, but Illyria paid no attention to the blonde vampire. She raised the sword over her head before bringing it down, slicing into the heads of warriors with such animosity yet her features remained expressionless. She continued to slice her way through the flock, “You are but insects in my presence…c*ckroaches infesting the ground I walk,” she muttered towards the oppressed, matter-of-factly.

She turned her head slightly until the two men were in her peripheral, “Go now,” she ordered simply. “Now’s our chance,” Angel added, pulling Gunn’s arm until it was around the base of his neck. Together, they rose from the alleyway. Gunn’s head rolled, too weak to hold it high. His lids began to cover his withering stare. “C’mon,” the ensouled vampire urged him on as he tightening his grip around Gunn’s waist, ushering through the crowd that was enamored with the brawl. Angel began limping the more Gunn’s weight fell upon his arms, but he didn’t dare falter. He was going to get his friend out of here, out of the heart of evil and into a place for him to rest. If he was done with the fight, he would not die like he was no one. Angel wouldn’t have it. He kept pushing them both along.

“St-stop…” Gunn coughed weakly, his palm still resting upon his belly. “We have to keep going,” Angel insisted. “N-no..” Gunn protested, “I-I can’t-“ was all he could say, coughing again – this time, shades of crimson fell upon the hand that attempted to guard his cough. Both Gunn and Angel’s orbs fell upon the blood resting on his hand. They both knew it at that moment – surely, his life was coming to an end. “There’s still time,” Angel said, refusing to believe his eyes. The ensouled vampire opened his mouth to urge his friend to keep fighting for his life, but a sharp pang invaded the depths of his chest causing him to halt in his tracks. He swallowed and blinked a few times in a feeble attempt to register the pain that fell upon him. He swallowed again – this time as if he was trying to stop himself from vomiting. The pang attacked his chest again, his free hand instinctively guarding his chest, as if cradling his ribcage could save him from the pain. All his muscles tensed in response. The pang hit him once again, nearly bringing him to his knees as he groaned in response to the electricity igniting his core. “Oh no..” he said, “no…” shaking his head in a dismal protest. He had felt this before. He knew this feeling all too well. Panic fell upon him. There was no time. No time to stop it. Nothing he could do to ward off the inevitable. “Wha-what is it?” Gunn asked.

            “No,” Angel begged, dropping Gunn to the ground. Gunn moaned in response, “What the hell is going on!?” Gunn shouted with all the breath he could gather. Angel ignored his friend, subconsciously breathing heavily as fear stirred within him. “I-I have to get out of here..” Angel announced desperately, looking from left to right. The stabbing feeling returned to his chest, “Ahhh” he groaned, hunching over and both palms falling over his chest. He sauntered away, gritting his teeth. “No…” he said again as if he was trying to convince him body to shield away from what was to come. It felt as if his chest was being ripping open, he could feel his frame losing the weight of his soul as he franticly clung his frame as if he were trying to hold his soul in place. He quickened his pace, knowing he had to get as far away from Gunn…from Spike..from Illyria as quickly as possible if they had any chance to escape the wrath of Angelus, the demon invading his body once again. He could feel the darkness ripping at the seams and seeping into him like a virus – Angelus was infecting him and there was nothing he could do to stop it. He groaned once against the ensouled vampire could feel him spreading within him, pushing any ounce of humanity the ensouled vampire possessed. He couldn’t fight the inevitable any longer as he bowed down, his knees and palms crashing against the cement as the agony ate away at his frame. “No..” he said one last time before silence fell over him.

            “So much for ‘stand by your man.’”

              Tears from the sky showed the vampire as his head rose, a smirk stretching his lips. He slowly pushed himself up from the ground, dusting his hands off and whistling an unrecognizable tune. He slid his hands in the pockets of his duster as he sauntered out of the shadows, and into the heart of the city. “Well, well, well…” he muttered as he watched a small group of demons antagonize their prey. “P-please..” the girl pleaded in between sobs. The sea of salt water that leaked from her orbs only made the creatures cackle in amusement, “Ple-pleashh” one of the monsters mocked her before the rest sniggered once again. One of the demons ambled behind their prey, raising one of his talons before tailing the edge against the rosy flesh on her neck, splitting her neck open for the feast in one smooth motion. Any trace of life in the girl’s eyes disappeared – becoming vacant - and her mouth slightly ajar, her body fell limp. The demons growled in hunger, all feasting upon the girl. ’Ain’t that a thing of beauty… Angelus thought, ’but I’ve got bigger fish to fry.’ The soulless vampire ambled past the demons, too enthralled with their buffet to notice the onlooker.

            ’How do you tell your good ole save the night pals the big bad is back just in time for the show?’ Angelus considered sardonically. How did he repay the white knights for returning that filthy soul to him, turning back into some nancy boy? To turning him into a weak, brooding, do-gooder? It wasn’t the sort of thing Angelus could so easily forget. It wasn’t the type of deed that warranted a simple kill. But – then again – when did it ever for Angelus? No, slaughtering for the sake of slaughtering was for the amateurs. They were too naïve to appreciate the art behind a good kill. Too full of bloodlust to be moved by such a thing. Not Angelus.

 
***


            “Pl-Please, you-you don’t have to do this,” the woman pleaded. Angelus sucked in air through his teeth, making a whistling should with a small shake to his head, “See, that’s where you’re wrong,” he countered, feigning disappointment. He lunged toward the girl, causing her to scream in fear. He trailed his nose down her neck, taking in the sweat and fear that rolled off her skin – the aroma intoxicating as it flirted with the vampire’s nostrils, bringing a pleased smile to his lips. He could never get enough of this part – watching the girl beg for her life when they both know the inevitable. His nose followed the silhouette of her neck until he found her eat, whispering in it, his hot breath causing goosebumps to surface on her bare skin. “Got a message for some friends,” he added, his cool pointer finger travelling around her chest, tracing a message on her chest she could not interpret. “Please..” she sobbed again, turning away from him, her features contorted in disgust. She bit her bottom lips, trying to hold back her tears in a feeble attempt to not give the monster the satisfaction of breaking her down. She twisted her wrists, the ropes cutting in her flesh. It was no use, she knew, but she couldn’t stop trying – trying to escape his hold.

            “Now, now…” he warned, feigning disdain, waving his finger in front of her. “Where do you think you’re going?” he asked. The girl didn’t answer, gulping and shutting her eyes. “Oh come on...” he ushered in a kittenish tone, ambling until he was directly in front of her. He pulled his arms back before lunging them forward, his palms hitting the wall behind her with a thump, causing the girl to scream once again. “I want to see the light leave your eyes when I kill you,” he demanded, waiting a moment for her to do as she was told. She cried, unable to hold the terror she felt within. Angelus rolled his eyes, growing impatient with the human. He grasped her chin, yanking her attention back to him. “Noooo!” she protested in between sobs, finally opening her eyes to face the monster before her.

“That’s better,” his voice was barely above a whisper, but it remained chilling. Angelus sighed, an evil grin finding his lips once again. “If only we had more time,” he wagered. The forefront of his mind travelled to the darkest parts of his imagine. It had been too long since he had tortured an innocent, making their insides scream – making them beg for death on their knees. It had been too long since he had stolen the innocence of a girl, picking pieces of her humanity off as if he were plucking roses from the vine. He inhaled one more time, taking a moment to appreciate the sweet scent of fear and utter terror that was brewing inside of her ready to burst at any moment. His tongue slid across his lips as he thought of all the things he could do to her; how her death would be her getting off easy. He shook his head, “Guess we’ll never know,” he said before turning away from her, grabbing a machete.

The girl released a high pitch scream from her gullet once again, “Ple-eeaaseee,” she pleaded once again. “Hmmm..” Angelus’s hues rose to the ceiling as if he was considering her pleads, holding in a laugh, “Tempting,” he nodded, walking towards her, knife in hand. “It’s just that...” he raised his knife, she cried out again, shaking her wrists violently – trying to break free, turning away from the knife in desperation, “I-I just gotta’ have a piece of your heart,” he punned and with that, he shoved the knife in the side of her chest. The girl’s mouth flew open in response to the blow, blinking a few times in a state of shock. Her mouth remained opened but no words escaped, only crimson nectar. “Gotta say, not as rewarding..” he remarked as he continued to carve in her chest until it was an open cavity. He reached in, pulling out her heart, raising it until it was parallel to gaze.

 
***


            The soulless vampire rested in the shadow, leaning on a maple tree in the midst of ensuing war between the white knights and Wolfram and Hart – but, he couldn’t very well miss the show, could he? A soft smile fell on his lips again and he began to hum. The excitement, the anticipation…the terror planted on their faces when they laid eyes on his gift…just brought a tune to his undead heart. He watched an innocent walk towards the seemingly abandoned hotel, a package in the middle of her hands. She swallowed softly as sweat trickled down her temples, her stare glued to the hotel before her. The young girl hesitated in her tracks, turning to face the monster whose bidding she was sent to do. Angelus shot her a warning look. She gulped one more time before she turned back, tip toeing towards the entryway. Angelus c*cked his head to get a better view as he watched Wesley open the door, weapon in hand. As he assumed the young girl was not a threat, he slowly dropped his weapon. The little girl held her hands up towards Wesley, gift in hand. He hesitated, but took the package from the girl. The two exchanged some words that Angelus could not make out – no matter. The girl turned on her heel, moving away from the hotel. “Good job,” he muttered in approval. He watched Wesley assess the package at the doorway before leisurely closing the door behind him. Angelus smirked as we watched through the window as the rest of the gang gathered around Wesley, curious eyes on the package as they hesitated to open it, revealing Angelus’ gift to the white knights. A fresh, human heart with a small post-it reading ‘Miss me?’

            Now that’s poetry.

 
 
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