"Dad?"

Angel looked up from the small globe in his hands to see Connor standing in an alleyway - uneasy, even angry, but obviously with his memory intact. He shook off the last disorientation from the turn of the device and tried to get his bearings. "Connor. Yeah. Hi. I'm sorry, I just got a little - lightheaded - for a second."

"Vampires can do that?"

Memory definitely intact. "Dizziness comes with the package, yeah."

Connor folded his arms, shielding himself against his father, a posture Angel knew well. At the moment, though, the fact that Connor was trying to guard himself against Angel didn't seem to matter nearly as much as the fact that his son knew who they both were and was trying, however imperfectly, to talk to him.

After another moment, Angel realized they were fairly near the Hyperion. Connor would have been the one seeking him out, then. But when? Was Holtz dead yet? Probably - otherwise Connor shouldn't have called him Dad. But he had; the sound was still sweet in Angel's ears. "What's on your mind?"

"Cordelia."

At once he knew roughly "when" he was - and too much more, besides. The old emotions came flooding back - rage and pain and pure revulsion - but Angel worked to put them aside. Whatever creature had used Connor's body and Angel's emotions, it hadn't been Cordelia herself. Connor had been more manipulated than any of them - save perhaps Cordelia, lost and trapped deep within her own person - and this was no time for anger. Or possessiveness. So he could stop clenching his fists any time now. "Cordy. Right. What's the problem?"

"She's scared." Connor's voice betrayed more fear, Angel was sure, than the thing calling itself Cordelia had ever felt. "Without her memory, she doesn't know what to do. And I think - I think - she needs you. All of you, I mean."

It had cost his son deeply to say that. Angel had realized this the first time around as well, but what he hadn't known then was that Connor was spending all his courage, all his love, on a monster that was twisting them all in its grip. Through clenched teeth, Angel said, "I know what she needs."

Connor's cheeks flushed; he probably thought it was a sexual taunt, Angel figured. Let him think that. The truth was going to come out soon enough.

Yes, that was it, exactly. Last time around, the truth had come out too late - for Cordelia, for Connor, for everyone. This time, the truth would come out soon enough to change everything.

"She wanted to visit," Connor said, jaw working as though he wanted to bite back the words. "She's in the hotel now, talking with Gunn and Fred. And I think - I think she wanted to visit you, too."

"Sounds like a great idea." Angel slipped the device in his pocket and did a quick check of his material; sure enough, beneath his long coat, there were plenty of stakes and even a Deburchan dagger for good measure. "Cordy and I need to catch up on old times."

With a noticeable lack of enthusiasm, Connor said, "Yeah. You go ahead. I'm just going to wait here."

One of the stakes had left a long splinter in Angel's palm, but he welcomed the small sliver of pain. "That's probably a good idea." 

**

Fred and Gunn were making out in the lobby.

"Whoops! Sorry, Angel," Fred giggled, letting go of Gunn, who ducked his head as if abashed, though he was grinning.

Angel hadn't ever thought to see that couple again. But it was easy enough to smile - Fred's reappearance was as surprising, and as wonderful, as it had been at Wolfram & Hart. "Don't let me interrupt, you - you crazy kids." He kept his voice casual as he added, "Connor said Cordelia was in here."

"She went to the courtyard," Gunn said, nodding in that direction. "Wanted to get some fresh air, though why she thinks we got some in L.A. is beyond me."

"It's the amnesia," Fred said.

"You guys go back to what you were doing." Angel could feel his battle anger coming over him again, thick and dark and rich with blood. He could think about all the other ramifications of landing at this time and place later. Nothing was more important than destroying - that THING - that had ruined his son and destroyed his friend. Reflection would come later. He had to end this now. "I'll be outside. With Cordelia."

Gunn drew Fred back into his arms. "If you insist."

Ignoring the soft laughter behind him, Angel walked toward the courtyard. As the doors swung open at his touch, he could see Cordelia - the thing in Cordelia's body - standing at the far edge of the courtyard. The moonlight dappled her short hair, turning the highlights to gold.

She looked over her shoulder and smiled. "Hey. It's you."

"And it's - you." Angel came toward her at a slow, deliberate pace, unwilling to tip his hand just yet, but unwilling to play the fool for even a moment longer. "Funny meeting you here."

After a moment she smiled - uncertain, as she should be, but still suspecting no danger. "Took me a second to realize you were joking. Maybe my sense of humor vanished along with my memory, huh?"

She sounded so much - SO much - like Cordelia. Angel had forgotten just how vivid the impersonation was. Though his anger never subsided, it was harder than he'd thought it could be to look down and see her face: the same wide grin, the same beautiful eyes, the tilt of her chin. And her body - he stared at her curves now, more boldly than he had ever allowed himself to do before - God, she even moved like Cordelia.

"You're different tonight," she said. But her voice was coquettish; she was watching him rake his eyes over her body and thinking that she had an opportunity. This creature could look at Angel's love and desire - and Connor's, too - and see nothing but tools to be used.

"Yeah. I am."

"Can I ask why?" She gazed up at him through half-lowered lids, the kind of stare that invites a kiss.

She's using Cordelia, everything that Cordelia is. This is rape - no, worse than rape, because she'll leave Cordelia with nothing. Not even her life.

Angel stepped a little closer, forcing himself to focus on her lips as he closed his hand over one of the stakes. "I guess I've realized something I never really accepted before."

"And what would that be?"

He smiled. "You're not Cordelia," he said, and slammed the stake into her chest.

It didn't kill her instantly; she stumbled back, oozing blood, but she laughed. "This is Cordelia's body," she said, and the voice was horrible now. "I don't have one. You can't kill me."

"No, I can't." Angel pulled the stake out and plunged it into her again, this time in the belly, ignoring the rush of hot blood against his hand. "And I can't save Cordelia. But I can damn sure you keep you from using her body to play head games with us anymore."

She fell to her knees, clutching her abdomen. A cough sent blood splashing from her mouth, and she gave him a gory smile. "This doesn't stop me. Just slows me down."

"I know your plans. I know your game. I know where the Beast will appear, and I know how to stop him. You didn't win last time -"

"Last time?"

"-and you won't win next time."

"I -- always win," she said, falling back onto the cobblestones. " You - should know that - by now."

"What do you mean?" Angel demanded.

But she was fading now, taking Cordelia's body with her. "You - never knew - my name."

And that might have meant anything in the world - but those were her last words, as the light in her eyes faded and her last breath rattled in her chest.

Angel braced himself against the courtyard wall; with the malevolent presence possessing Cordelia now gone, he was left with Cordelia's dead body - for the second time in two days.

At least last time the blood on his hands had only been metaphorical.

"I'm sorry," Angel said to a woman who wasn't there.

**

Fred and Gunn accepted his explanation more easily than he would've thought. Too late, Angel wondered if he should have taken them into his confidence before he attacked Cordelia's impostor, and not after; however, he suspected any delay or uncertainty might have tipped her off, and so his decision was probably the right one regardless.

"I know it's hard seeing her like this," Angel said when Gunn looked out into the courtyard to see Cordelia's bloodied corpse lying there. "But Cordelia - the Cordy we knew - she never came back. And she never will. The sooner we all accept that, the better."

"You did what you thought right," Fred said quietly. Her hands were folded her in lap, and her eyes were rimmed with red. "That's all any of us can do."

"I have to find Connor." Opening the weapons chest, Angel chose a few choice instruments to take with him; if Connor took it badly - and he would - more than a Deburchan dagger would be necessary for protection. "Once he's come to terms with this, we'll have to learn what she said to him. What specifically she was trying to get him to do." Most of this, he'd pieced together since it first happened, but Angel didn't intend to leave any stone unturned. Her final words had shaken him, and he'd be damned if he'd let her defeat him from the grave.

From Cordelia's grave, that was. He wondered if Wesley was right, about scattering her ashes at sea. No, he'd think about that later.

Connor wasn't at the ratty little room he'd fashioned for himself; it was empty and cold, and the longer Angel waited there, the more pitiful it seemed. A few fast-food bags were tossed in a makeshift garbage can fashioned from a Glad bag and a cardboard box. The mattress that lay on the floor was lumpy and smelled somewhat sour; no doubt Connor had fished it from a Dumpster, where it had definitely belonged.

--Connor made love to Cordelia on this godawful thing -

--no, he hadn't, Angel reminded himself. First of all, it had never been Cordelia; second, now that consummation would never happen at all. And that alone had to be reason to celebrate.

Angel didn't feel like celebrating, though. He felt as if, in some sense, his mind was only now beginning to catch up to the whirlwind trip the rest of him had taken back in time.  Leaping back the first go-round had been discomfiting enough, but in essence, relatively little had changed. He had Wesley and Fred back - and thank God - but the dilemma they'd been facing was the one he had only just finished dealing with. Cordelia's fate had been different only in the sense that the monitors connected to her had still been blinking. The emotional shift hadn't been as profound; he'd known where to go from there, or thought he had, anyway. If the memory spell had only remained intact, that would have worked out fine.

This, though - this was different. It was harder to go back to this, one of the most painful times in all their lives, and confront the deception all over again. And Wesley - God, Wesley would still be hating him, and rightfully so, but if they worked this out the first time, they'd work it out again.

Lilah would still be alive, too. Angel frowned as he realized he'd just saved her life as well, not that he'd get any thanks for it, either from Lilah herself or those forced to deal with her.

Well. You couldn't make an omelet without breaking a few eggs. Or not breaking, in this case. Something.

Nothing remained for Angel but to live in the here and now. As he sat in Connor's room, he tried to absorb more than the atmosphere of the place, but to fully live in the time that now surrounded him. Connor was still his, still angry and unsettled - but yearning for a home and for love. Angel could give him that, and eventually Connor would see it. Fred and Gunn were still together; would they last longer this time, without the pressure of the Beast's arrival weighing them down? It was weird to think that, with Wesley no doubt still entangled with Lilah, Fred and Gunn might actually go the distance this time.

That, or they'd break up tomorrow. Angel had learned he was a very bad judge of other people's love lives, if somewhat a better judge than of his own.

He glanced to one side and saw the open duffle bag that he'd packed with Cordelia's things, a week or two - or, depending on how you looked at it, more than a year - before. Angel knelt beside it and began going through it all: the royal-blue sweater she used to wear around the office, as soft to the touch as he'd once imagined it might be. A bottle of Chanel No. 9 that she couldn't afford but bought anyway; Angel sprayed a little on the sweater and inhaled deeply, relishing the soft scent that reminded him of her. This perfume had more to do with Cordelia than the creature he'd confronted that night.

The photographs were the worst. There they were - him and Wes and Cordy, all sitting around a table and smiling like mad at whoever might have taken the picture. Gunn, probably. When had they ever been this happy?

Why couldn't he remember them being happy?

His distraction kept him from hearing the footfalls on the fire escape until Connor was actually opening the window. Angel turned to face him, expecting surprise and anger. Buffy had always been angry when her mom touched her stuff; probably he could expect some of the same.

Connor's face was white, and his body was shaking. He was enraged - but it wasn't the rage of a boy whose privacy has been invaded. It was gut-deep anger, and in that moment Angel knew that Connor had already learned of Cordelia's death.

"You couldn't let her go," Connor said, his voice cracking. "You couldn't let her love anybody else. Or was it that you couldn't let anybody love me?"

"That was not Cordelia."

"The hell it wasn't! I went to see what you were saying to her -"

"To spy on me," Angel corrected him, then wondered why the hell he was making a very bad situation worse.

"I saw what you did to her. I saw what was left of her. How could you do that? Why -"

"I told you. It WASN'T Cordelia. Connor - the thing inside her - it fooled you, it fooled us all, but -"

"Stop it!" Connor yelled, reaching back as if for a weapon. "Stop making excuses! You killed her and - and I've left you alive long enough."

The knife came spinning toward Angel at superhuman speed.

Fortunately, Angel had superhuman speed.

He dodged the blade, spun and grabbed the handle from the air. As Connor stared at him, he held it up. "First lesson: This wouldn't have killed me, even if you had hit me."

"It would have hurt you," Connor said. "And I want to hurt you."

"Hurt your opponent after you've disabled him. Before, you're just wasting time." That advice came from Angelus' experience, not Angel's, but anything that might keep his son alive in a future battle was worth passing on. "Second lesson: Listen when somebody tells you the truth."

"Third lesson." Connor smirked. "Don't assume the first blow is the worst."

The stake thudded into Angel's arm, not his chest, but it hurt like all hell anyway. Why hadn't he watched what Connor was doing with his other hand? "Dammit -"

Connor leaped forward, swinging one foot into Angel's ribs with a sickening crack. But Angel had fought through broken bones before. He elbowed Connor savagely under the chin, stunning him.

As Connor fell back onto the floor, Angel said, "This hurts me more than it hurts you."

"What else is new?" Connor spat at him, before slumping dully to the floor.

He needed to bind Connor's hands and feet before he tried to move him, but it took Angel a few moments to bring himself to do it. He spent that time looking down at his son's unmoving form and wondering how - and if - they might find a way to be together this time.

**

Connor's weight was heavy across his shoulders - awkward and difficult, like a dead body. But his heartbeat was still strong, and Angel could already feel relief replacing his rage.

Imprisoning Connor - that would be a bad idea. He'd hate it, and he'd hate Angel - more - for it. But they could keep him under control long enough to get it through his head that Cordelia hadn't been Cordelia. There were portals, oracles, ways of getting at cosmic truth; could he maybe lead Connor through one of them, talk things through? After that -

After that, he would get to try again.

Angel could feel the weight of the device in his coat pocket, thudding against his side as he walked through the alleyways. For the first time, he realized that he wasn't just undoing a couple of specific wrongs - he was going to get to live the past two years over again, and get a future that spooled out past it as well.

He'd still lost Cordy - that would always hurt, but at least this time he knew that he'd stopped the desecration of her body as soon as he possibly could. But he hadn't lost Connor, and now that his son wouldn't be warped by Jasmine's lies, there was still hope that his son could rebuild his life.

He had the agency back, too, just as it had been. Fred and Gunn, here at his side. And he could convince Wesley to return, given enough time; hell, he'd beg if he had to, admit he was wrong, and manage not to laugh at the astonishment in Wesley's face.

And hey - he could make some money on World Series bets.

So he felt reasonably good as he walked back into the Hyperion, right up until the moment that the arrow thudded into his chest.

Gasping in pain, Angel stumbled, only just managing to put Connor down instead of dropping him. He heard a voice say, coolly, "Missed the heart, I'm afraid."

"Wes?"

Angel braced his shoulder against the wall as he tugged the arrow out; blinking through tears of pain, he saw Wesley standing by the door to the courtyard, a crossbow in his hands. On either side of him stood Fred and Gunn, both of them tense.

He'd thought they'd understood, when he told them about the malevolent being inside Cordelia. But not Angel realized - they'd only been humoring him.

"I don't know if you've lost your soul again," Wesley said, stepping forward briskly. "Nor do I care. At times I've wondered if you ever had one to start with."

"That was not Cordelia," Angel gasped, struggling back to his feet. He could dodge a crossbow if he had to; there was still a chance to flee. But he wanted to try and get through to them if he could -

"She may not have remembered herself, but that was Cordelia. You murdered her, for reasons only you would know. In short, you've lost your mind." Wesley cocked his head, studying Angel, obviously sizing up his weaknesses. "Though you may not believe this now, I pity you, Angel. Just as one might pity a rabid dog that must be put down."

"Dammit, Wesley, listen to me!" Angel couldn't take this any more. "You know how much I loved Cordelia. You were there, at the beginning, and you know. You can't have forgotten that, can you? Remember - remember when that bastard Wilson Christopher took advantage of her, and we thought she was going to die? And we came and sat on her bed and talked to her - you and I, we worked together to freeze that demon before he could hurt her anymore - don't you remember any of that?"

Wesley hesitated. In his eyes, Angel could see the glimmerings of doubt, and memory, and the gentler man Wesley used to be. "You - Angelus' skills at manipulation are legendary -"

"I'm not manipulating you. I'm telling you the truth. I loved Cordelia, and I would never have hurt her, any more than you would. That thing out there - it wasn't Cordelia."

The silence stretched out for a moment, and Angel tried to ignore the spear of pain in his chest as he kept his eyes locked with Wesley's. Slowly, the tension in Wesley's shoulders began to ease. He didn't want to believe, Angel could tell - but he was beginning to, all the same.

Then the dagger stabbed into his belly.

Angel fell back, turning to see Gunn standing there, arm still extended. "He was getting to your mind, man," Gunn said. He wasn't talking to Angel. "Leave this to me."

Fighting would only make this worse. Angel did the only thing he could do - turned and ran, his feet pounding the asphalt as he tore down the sidewalk, making his way to the nearest dark alley.

"Stay on him!" That was Fred shouting, and if it hadn't been so damned useless, the sound of Fred in battle mode might have made Angel laugh.

Stumbling in his disorientation, Angel put his hand to his belly and pulled it away covered with blood - fresh blood of his own, stained over the dried flakes of Cordelia's blood still on his hands. His injuries would heal soon enough, so if he could just hide, he could -

--could what? Take another crack at convincing the others that Cordelia hadn't been Cordelia? If he just sang for Lorne, that would take care of it, wouldn't it?

Yes - if they ever gave him the chance. But even Lorne wasn't infallible, or unbreakable.

Ducking behind some garbage cans, Angel took a moment to consider his options. He could dig his way out of this mess, or -

He lifted up the device. Why the hell hadn't Chip given him an instruction manual?

Just jumping back didn't solve many problems - Angel had already realized that much. But as he saw Gunn's shadow at the end of the alleyway, he figured it would at least solve these problems.

The rest, Angel decided, as he gave the device another spin and felt the world glimmer into golden warmth -- he'd take as it came.

**

Read on to the next chapter.
Read on to the last chapter.
Return to the Two Steps Back Index Page.
Return to Chivalry Is Dead.
Return to Yahtzee's Main Page.