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hihoplasticFanFic: Never Heals: House/Angel crossover: (2/3)
part one
l.a. day.
present.
She wakes up to the sound of fierce arguing outside the door.
‘This isn’t her job!’
‘It’s her responsibility! She has power, she needs to help people.’
‘She’s a bloody doctor, she does help people! You just want her to help your people—’
‘Our people. And I think the end of the world is a little more important than a teaching hospital!’
‘You almost got her killed by dragging her into this!’
‘I did not drag her into this, I—’
‘The girl’s a Jewish nurture demon, she’s probably got a guilt complex the size of Mount Everest and you, buddy bear, exploited that for your own little game—’
She hears Angel’s voice deepen suddenly. ‘Game? Is that what you think this is?’
‘Hey, I love the manipulation. Great technique. All I’m saying is that the girl’s more human than you and I will ever be. And I’m not just talkin’ physically.’
She looks around the small room. She’s on a mattress on the floor, covered in a warm but torn blanket. Most of the walls are there, and there’s a small, mostly intact bathroom off to the side.
‘This used to be the medical wing,’ Illyria says from the corner. She pauses. ‘You would have liked the research facilities here. They were well funded.’
Cuddy groans slightly and sits up. ‘What happened?’
‘You did more magic than your form is used to. It weakened you. You… ‘passed out’.’
‘Yeah.’
Spike and Angel come through a door a moment later. ‘Oh good. You’re awake. How do you feel?’
Spike rolls his eyes. Cuddy winces.
‘Better. Sort of.’ She pulls back the blanket and stands up slowly, looks down at her blood stained clothes.
‘We’ve got showers if- if you want. The walls are a little cracked, but the piping still works.’ He pauses, turns to Spike. ‘Why is that?’
Spike shrugs.
‘Did Alex get home alright?’
‘Yup. No more creepy crawlies.’
She nods. ‘Good.’ She looks at Angel. ‘A shower would be nice.’
--
They walk slowly through the rubble, keeping to the shadows. Around them, people are hammering and sawing and sweeping.
‘Where did you find all these people?’
Angel shrugs. ‘Some of them are former Wolfram and Hart employees. Most of them are volunteers. Reconstruction’s going pretty well, considering the entire building was decimated by an army of demons.’
‘I don’t understand why you’d want to rebuild this place.’
‘We aren’t really. We’re gonna open our own office, kinda like we had before.’
‘Angel Investigations, part two?’
He smiles. ‘Something like that.’
Angel pushes open a creaking door and holds it open for her. She slips past easily and he can smell her hair, her perfume, and something else, someone else – a lingering trace. He shakes it off.
‘Here’s the locker room. Showers are over there. You have your stuff?’
She holds up a black bag.
‘Right.’ He pauses, shifts awkwardly. ‘I’ll just uh, I’ll be outside, if you… uh. Yeah.’
She shakes her head as he backs out of the room quickly, her lips curving up just slightly.
--
night.
She joins the three of them later that evening. They’re sitting around the conference table in Angel’s office; Spike with his feet propped up on the table, Angel staring out the window, Illyria standing off to the side, perfectly still.
She feels strange, awkward almost in jeans and a dark sweater. She blends in, fits with them and the scenery around them and it scares her a little bit. Illyria senses this and turns.
‘We’re safe,’ she says. Spike and Angel look up.
‘You okay?’
‘I’m fine,’ she says, runs a hand through her hair. ‘Still tired. Bit of a headache.’
‘If you want to lie down—’
‘No,’ she shakes her head, ‘I’m fine.’
‘Hungry?’ Spike asks. Angel gives him a look. ‘Not you. You have to feed her, you git.’
‘Oh. Right.’ Angel jumps up suddenly. ‘I can uh, order Chinese food? Or pizza – I think that pizza place is still open?’
Cuddy shakes her head. ‘Chinese is fine.’
‘Okay. Um.’
‘Anything.’
‘Right.’
He moves off into the office, rummaging through his desk drawers for the menu.
‘Uh, vegetable plate okay?’ Angel calls loudly. The sound hurts her head. Spike rolls his eyes.
--
The food comes and she eats slowly, quietly. Spike and Angel drink pig’s blood from thick mugs and Illyria continues to stand, watching them.
Spike and Angel keep exchanging frustrated looks and gestures. Spike folds his arms across his chest and glares. Angel finally puts his cup down.
‘Look, Lisa, I…’ he sighs heavily. ‘I’m sorry. About last night. About all this.’ Illyria tilts her head and moves closer to the table. ‘I shouldn’t have made you come when you didn’t want to. You’re right. This isn’t your life, it’s not your fight.’ He pauses; Spike kicks his leg under the table. ‘And we’ll… put you on a plane home tomorrow, if that’s what you want.’
Cuddy pushes her food away carefully, looks up at their expectant gazes. ‘I do want that.’ She hears Angel’s soft, resigned sigh. ‘But I won’t take it.’ His eyes flicker back. She hesitates. ‘I put in for two weeks off. I’ll stay until then, and we can go from there.’
Angel looks confused. ‘But why—’
‘You’re right. This is important. That man last night— he would have died. And there are more people out there who need our help. And I… wouldn’t mind. Being better at this. Last night proves how out of practice I am,’ she tries to chuckle but it comes out forced.
Angel just smiles. ‘ ‘Our’?’
‘Two weeks is all I’m committing to.’
‘Good enough for me,’ Spike says with a smirk. She almost laughs, reminded of – her face falls and she looks away. Angel frowns.
‘Lisa?’
She shakes her head, pastes on a smile. ‘Nothing.’
Illyria moves slowly, sits in the chair next to her and leans forward. Cuddy straightens. Illyria tilts her head. ‘There is someone you wish to heal but can’t.’
‘What?’
‘Some other mortal. You wish to gather the power necessary to fix them. That is why you stay.’
‘What’s she blabberin’ on about?’
Cuddy looks up, shakes her head and frowns. ‘I uh… A… friend of mine, back home, I guess.’
Illyria stares at her, unblinking. ‘The wound is too deep.’
She nods. ‘He suffered a blood clot in his leg about eight years ago. Scraps and bruises, sometimes even flesh wounds I’ve always been able to fix but that… requires more strength than I have.’
‘More strength than it took to cure Alex?’ Angel asks.
She meets his eyes. ‘Surgery removed a lot of the damaged muscle. I don’t know that I’ll ever be able to mend something that isn’t there to begin with,’ she says quietly. ‘But if there’s even a chance that with more training…’
Illyria tilts her head. ‘You feel guilty.’
‘I was his doctor.’
There’s a somber pause. ‘It wasn’t your fault,’ Angel says. She looks up at him.
‘No. But that doesn’t stop it from hurting.’
Angel studies her quietly. ‘You really care about this guy.’
She looks up sharply. ‘I never said—’
‘I can smell him. On you.’
‘You miss him,’ Illyria states, and they all look up at her tone. It’s almost gentle.
Cuddy nods silently.
--
princeton. night.
two weeks earlier.
Her voice is clipped, her eyes narrowed. ‘I’m just saying you can’t do that kind of thing without the patient’s permission, it’s illegal.’
He shrugs, leans against the wall. ‘Legal, shmegal.’
She turns away from the stove to glare at him briefly.
‘The guy lived, didn’t he?’
‘Barely,’ she mutters, but she’s not as angry as she should be and he knows it, smirks. He pushes off the wall and limps to her, reaches around and pulls a cauliflower out of the frying pan.
‘Hey.’ She swats his hand away. ‘If you’re going to eat with your fingers at least wash your hands first. God only knows how many germs that cane of yours picks up on a daily basis.’
‘What, you mean this thing?’ He slides the cane around her calf, venturing slowly up her leg.
‘House.’ She steps swiftly out of his reach and moves to the cupboard. He steals another vegetable. ‘I saw that.’
‘No you didn’t.’
She comes back and starts mixing spices into the pan.
‘I like it better when we order in. No cooking. Less dishes. More sex. It’s perfect.’
She gives him an ‘oh please’ look. He smirks. ‘You know I’m right.’
‘Shut up,’ she says, ‘and hand me a plate.’
--
He wakes her up with open-mouthed kisses to her skin. She murmurs, shifts as he follows a path up along her arm, across her shoulder and neck.
‘What are you doing?’ she mumbles.
‘Oh, I’m sorry, did I wake you?’ His voice holds no regret. She blinks, opens her eyes halfway and looks at him. ‘What time is it?’
He stops and stares at her. ‘I’m trying to seduce you and you’re thinking about what time it is?’ He sighs. ‘It’s two.’
‘You woke me up at two in the morning for sex?’
‘It didn’t seem fair to enjoy it without you.’
She groans, rolls away from him. He tugs her back, moves her hair and kisses the hollow behind her ear.
‘Stop it,’ she murmurs, but her legs shift against him and he smirks, moves his lips around her jaw.
‘Really?’
‘No.’
She turns, catches his mouth with hers; he lets his hand follow her curves all the way down to her thigh and back up around her back, rolling and pulling her on top of him.
She laughs softly against his cheek. ‘You never did play fair.’
His fingers trace the length of her spine.
‘Never needed a reason to.’
Her smile fades and she pulls back slightly, cups his cheeks in both hands. They hold each others’ gaze for a long, quiet moment before she leans down and he lifts his head; the kiss is languid and purposeful and they both know it means less in the light of day, but here, it’s better than anything else they’ve found thus far.
It’s enough.
--
l.a. day.
present.
Training sessions with Illyria started out as tests. How much she could lift, how much she could throw, how fast she could duck and jump and run. Simple strengths she never knew she had.
After a day of that, Angel suggested they move on to more productive things.
‘Like fighting,’ he had said with a grin, handing her a large knife.
Now, four days after that, she’s standing over him with a broad-edged sword at his throat and he’s laughing nervously, ‘Okay then. I guess she’s been training you, uh… pretty well.’
Cuddy steps back and lowers the sword. ‘I’ve picked up a few things.’
Angel jumps to his feet. Spike grins from the corner. ‘Shut up, Spike,’ he growls without turning to see his expression.
‘You just got whupped by a nurture demon,’ he says, bounce in his step as he approaches them. ‘I can’t not love that.’
Angel rounds on him. ‘You wanna have a go?’
‘Nope. Perfectly happy to see you get squashed, thanks.’
Angel turns his attention back to Cuddy. ‘You learn fast. Point is, the stronger you are, the better you should be able to control your power. You’ll have the strength to use more of it for longer periods of time.’
‘Which means more healin’ and less bleedin’. That’s cause for celebration, no?’ Cuddy and Angel just look at him. ‘What?’
‘We’re going out again tonight,’ he says to Cuddy. ‘We got word of a nest that just hatched; big, ugly demons with lots of claws.’
‘Which means lots of gashes,’ Spike adds.
‘And a reason for you to come. If you want.’
Cuddy considers this, nods slowly. ‘Okay,’ she says, meets their gaze and raises the sword; they both step back. ‘But I’m bringing this.’
--
night.
They pull up outside a small home in one of the quieter outskirt neighborhoods. Everything’s quiet as they climb out of the car, all four of them listening, watching.
‘You sure you got the place right?’ Spike mutters lowly. Angel looks at the address in his hand.
‘This is it.’
‘Well there doesn’t seem to be much goin—’
A loud scream breaks the silence and they set off at a run, up the steps of one of the houses; Illyria pushes the door down with one hand and they all fall through the doorway. Spike and Angel rush for the demons, Illyria waits for one to come to her and Cuddy freezes, stares at the bodies on the living room floor.
Different bodies, different people, different house. Same scene. She remembers her brother’s back, the logo on his letterman’s jacket as he guarded her. The sound of her mother’s voice telling them to run. The crack of her father’s neck.
The sound of a body hitting the wall brings her back just in time to see Angel jump to his feet. ‘Get these people out of here!’
Her eyes do a sweep. There are three bodies in the living room, two of them are dead. The demons are in the hallway between her and the kitchen and somehow she knows there are more people there, cowering.
She moves to the injured woman first, closes her hands over her neck to get rid of the cuts, then her shoulder to close the wound, her leg to fix the break.
One of the demons breaks free and charges at her; Illyria’s fist goes through its stomach, and he stops, falls.
Illyria shakes her hand and green blood splatters off. ‘Disgusting,’ she mutters, turns to punch another in the face.
Cuddy moves the woman behind the couch, out of the way of the fighting. She checks the pulses on the other two to be sure, but they’re gone. She doesn’t waste time. She hugs the wall, quickly slipping around the fight (six demons, now four, three of them; she almost wishes she were stronger) and into the kitchen.
Two children press themselves tighter against the wall under the table. She crouches down slowly, looks them in the eye.
‘It’s okay,’ she says. ‘I’m here to help you.’
The brother hugs the sister tighter to his chest and shakes his head.
She tries to smile. ‘I promise. I’m not going to hurt you.’
‘Lisa, watch out!’
She looks up at the charging demon, dives swiftly under the table just as Spike jumps on its back, knocks it over and stabs it through the brain.
‘I got one!’ he yells, then disappears back into the hallway.
Cuddy looks at the children, their eyes wide in terror; the little girl has a bite on her arm.
She points to it. ‘I can fix that,’ she says softly. ‘I promise. I won’t hurt you.’
The terror in their eyes lessens slightly and the young boy nods, whispers something in his sister's ear. She holds out her arm. Cuddy puts her fingers over the wound gently, and they watch as the skin heals, the blood disappears. The boy looks at her, his eyes wide.
‘It’s going to be okay.’
‘Where’s Lina?’ the girl asks. The boy covers her mouth with his hand and shushes her.
‘Who is Lina?’
The boy hesitates. ‘Our sister. She was in the living room on the phone.’
‘She’s fine. She’s unconscious but she’ll be okay,’ Cuddy reassures them.
There’s a loud grunt, a thud and then the fighting stops. She can hear Spike and Angel bantering, Illyria’s curt interjection.
‘Lisa?’
‘In the kitchen,’ she says, turns to the kids. ‘I’ll be right back, okay?’ They nod, and she slips out from under the table, steps close to them and speaks lowly.
‘The two in the living room are dead. There’s a woman behind the couch. She’s unconscious but she’ll be alright.’
‘The kids?’ Angel asks.
‘They’re fine too. Terrified, but.’ She swallows, her gaze falling over their shoulders and into the bloody living room. ‘Get the bodies out of here,’ she says. ‘They shouldn’t have to see that.’
Spike nods wordlessly and turns; Angel follows him. Illyria tilts her head.
‘Are you… alright?’
Cuddy nods swiftly, then turns back and crouches down under the table again. Illyria can hear her soft, gentle voice coaxing the kids out from their hiding place. A few moments later the three of them emerge, the boy holding tightly to his sister’s hand.
--
‘You did good out there,’ he says later, watching her comb bits of demon flesh out of her hair. ‘With those kids. And the woman, when she finally came to.’ He pauses. ‘They’re gonna be just fine.’
She laughs mirthlessly. ‘After extensive psychotherapy, maybe.’ She turns, shakes her head. ‘You can’t watch someone you love die and be ‘just fine’, Angel. You know that.’
He looks away and she moves closer, touches his arm gently. He looks down at her.
‘What happened wasn’t your fault. There was no way you could have known what was happening. Or what to do about it.’
‘I could have fixed them, if I’d known.’
‘You were six years old, Lisa. You wouldn’t have had the strength anyway.’
‘Maybe,’ she sighs. ‘But I still wish…’ She lets go of his arm, backs away. ‘Why didn’t you tell me what you were? Before I found out. You checked up on me for years, you could have—’
‘I was afraid you’d react the way you did.’
‘I might not have, if you’d explained it to me first.’
‘You didn’t want to hear it,’ he says, ‘And I don’t blame you. Vampires take out your whole family, you tend not to distinguish between them, soul or not. I get that.’
There’s a long pause, before Angel finally he reaches into his pocket, hands her a cordless phone. ‘Here,’ he says. ‘Phone lines are back up.’ She looks at him curiously. ‘I figured you’d want to check in back home, call the hospital. Your 'friend'.’ He gives her a knowing look. She smiles.
‘Thank you.’
*
part three
part one
l.a. day.
present.
She wakes up to the sound of fierce arguing outside the door.
‘This isn’t her job!’
‘It’s her responsibility! She has power, she needs to help people.’
‘She’s a bloody doctor, she does help people! You just want her to help your people—’
‘Our people. And I think the end of the world is a little more important than a teaching hospital!’
‘You almost got her killed by dragging her into this!’
‘I did not drag her into this, I—’
‘The girl’s a Jewish nurture demon, she’s probably got a guilt complex the size of Mount Everest and you, buddy bear, exploited that for your own little game—’
She hears Angel’s voice deepen suddenly. ‘Game? Is that what you think this is?’
‘Hey, I love the manipulation. Great technique. All I’m saying is that the girl’s more human than you and I will ever be. And I’m not just talkin’ physically.’
She looks around the small room. She’s on a mattress on the floor, covered in a warm but torn blanket. Most of the walls are there, and there’s a small, mostly intact bathroom off to the side.
‘This used to be the medical wing,’ Illyria says from the corner. She pauses. ‘You would have liked the research facilities here. They were well funded.’
Cuddy groans slightly and sits up. ‘What happened?’
‘You did more magic than your form is used to. It weakened you. You… ‘passed out’.’
‘Yeah.’
Spike and Angel come through a door a moment later. ‘Oh good. You’re awake. How do you feel?’
Spike rolls his eyes. Cuddy winces.
‘Better. Sort of.’ She pulls back the blanket and stands up slowly, looks down at her blood stained clothes.
‘We’ve got showers if- if you want. The walls are a little cracked, but the piping still works.’ He pauses, turns to Spike. ‘Why is that?’
Spike shrugs.
‘Did Alex get home alright?’
‘Yup. No more creepy crawlies.’
She nods. ‘Good.’ She looks at Angel. ‘A shower would be nice.’
--
They walk slowly through the rubble, keeping to the shadows. Around them, people are hammering and sawing and sweeping.
‘Where did you find all these people?’
Angel shrugs. ‘Some of them are former Wolfram and Hart employees. Most of them are volunteers. Reconstruction’s going pretty well, considering the entire building was decimated by an army of demons.’
‘I don’t understand why you’d want to rebuild this place.’
‘We aren’t really. We’re gonna open our own office, kinda like we had before.’
‘Angel Investigations, part two?’
He smiles. ‘Something like that.’
Angel pushes open a creaking door and holds it open for her. She slips past easily and he can smell her hair, her perfume, and something else, someone else – a lingering trace. He shakes it off.
‘Here’s the locker room. Showers are over there. You have your stuff?’
She holds up a black bag.
‘Right.’ He pauses, shifts awkwardly. ‘I’ll just uh, I’ll be outside, if you… uh. Yeah.’
She shakes her head as he backs out of the room quickly, her lips curving up just slightly.
--
night.
She joins the three of them later that evening. They’re sitting around the conference table in Angel’s office; Spike with his feet propped up on the table, Angel staring out the window, Illyria standing off to the side, perfectly still.
She feels strange, awkward almost in jeans and a dark sweater. She blends in, fits with them and the scenery around them and it scares her a little bit. Illyria senses this and turns.
‘We’re safe,’ she says. Spike and Angel look up.
‘You okay?’
‘I’m fine,’ she says, runs a hand through her hair. ‘Still tired. Bit of a headache.’
‘If you want to lie down—’
‘No,’ she shakes her head, ‘I’m fine.’
‘Hungry?’ Spike asks. Angel gives him a look. ‘Not you. You have to feed her, you git.’
‘Oh. Right.’ Angel jumps up suddenly. ‘I can uh, order Chinese food? Or pizza – I think that pizza place is still open?’
Cuddy shakes her head. ‘Chinese is fine.’
‘Okay. Um.’
‘Anything.’
‘Right.’
He moves off into the office, rummaging through his desk drawers for the menu.
‘Uh, vegetable plate okay?’ Angel calls loudly. The sound hurts her head. Spike rolls his eyes.
--
The food comes and she eats slowly, quietly. Spike and Angel drink pig’s blood from thick mugs and Illyria continues to stand, watching them.
Spike and Angel keep exchanging frustrated looks and gestures. Spike folds his arms across his chest and glares. Angel finally puts his cup down.
‘Look, Lisa, I…’ he sighs heavily. ‘I’m sorry. About last night. About all this.’ Illyria tilts her head and moves closer to the table. ‘I shouldn’t have made you come when you didn’t want to. You’re right. This isn’t your life, it’s not your fight.’ He pauses; Spike kicks his leg under the table. ‘And we’ll… put you on a plane home tomorrow, if that’s what you want.’
Cuddy pushes her food away carefully, looks up at their expectant gazes. ‘I do want that.’ She hears Angel’s soft, resigned sigh. ‘But I won’t take it.’ His eyes flicker back. She hesitates. ‘I put in for two weeks off. I’ll stay until then, and we can go from there.’
Angel looks confused. ‘But why—’
‘You’re right. This is important. That man last night— he would have died. And there are more people out there who need our help. And I… wouldn’t mind. Being better at this. Last night proves how out of practice I am,’ she tries to chuckle but it comes out forced.
Angel just smiles. ‘ ‘Our’?’
‘Two weeks is all I’m committing to.’
‘Good enough for me,’ Spike says with a smirk. She almost laughs, reminded of – her face falls and she looks away. Angel frowns.
‘Lisa?’
She shakes her head, pastes on a smile. ‘Nothing.’
Illyria moves slowly, sits in the chair next to her and leans forward. Cuddy straightens. Illyria tilts her head. ‘There is someone you wish to heal but can’t.’
‘What?’
‘Some other mortal. You wish to gather the power necessary to fix them. That is why you stay.’
‘What’s she blabberin’ on about?’
Cuddy looks up, shakes her head and frowns. ‘I uh… A… friend of mine, back home, I guess.’
Illyria stares at her, unblinking. ‘The wound is too deep.’
She nods. ‘He suffered a blood clot in his leg about eight years ago. Scraps and bruises, sometimes even flesh wounds I’ve always been able to fix but that… requires more strength than I have.’
‘More strength than it took to cure Alex?’ Angel asks.
She meets his eyes. ‘Surgery removed a lot of the damaged muscle. I don’t know that I’ll ever be able to mend something that isn’t there to begin with,’ she says quietly. ‘But if there’s even a chance that with more training…’
Illyria tilts her head. ‘You feel guilty.’
‘I was his doctor.’
There’s a somber pause. ‘It wasn’t your fault,’ Angel says. She looks up at him.
‘No. But that doesn’t stop it from hurting.’
Angel studies her quietly. ‘You really care about this guy.’
She looks up sharply. ‘I never said—’
‘I can smell him. On you.’
‘You miss him,’ Illyria states, and they all look up at her tone. It’s almost gentle.
Cuddy nods silently.
--
princeton. night.
two weeks earlier.
Her voice is clipped, her eyes narrowed. ‘I’m just saying you can’t do that kind of thing without the patient’s permission, it’s illegal.’
He shrugs, leans against the wall. ‘Legal, shmegal.’
She turns away from the stove to glare at him briefly.
‘The guy lived, didn’t he?’
‘Barely,’ she mutters, but she’s not as angry as she should be and he knows it, smirks. He pushes off the wall and limps to her, reaches around and pulls a cauliflower out of the frying pan.
‘Hey.’ She swats his hand away. ‘If you’re going to eat with your fingers at least wash your hands first. God only knows how many germs that cane of yours picks up on a daily basis.’
‘What, you mean this thing?’ He slides the cane around her calf, venturing slowly up her leg.
‘House.’ She steps swiftly out of his reach and moves to the cupboard. He steals another vegetable. ‘I saw that.’
‘No you didn’t.’
She comes back and starts mixing spices into the pan.
‘I like it better when we order in. No cooking. Less dishes. More sex. It’s perfect.’
She gives him an ‘oh please’ look. He smirks. ‘You know I’m right.’
‘Shut up,’ she says, ‘and hand me a plate.’
--
He wakes her up with open-mouthed kisses to her skin. She murmurs, shifts as he follows a path up along her arm, across her shoulder and neck.
‘What are you doing?’ she mumbles.
‘Oh, I’m sorry, did I wake you?’ His voice holds no regret. She blinks, opens her eyes halfway and looks at him. ‘What time is it?’
He stops and stares at her. ‘I’m trying to seduce you and you’re thinking about what time it is?’ He sighs. ‘It’s two.’
‘You woke me up at two in the morning for sex?’
‘It didn’t seem fair to enjoy it without you.’
She groans, rolls away from him. He tugs her back, moves her hair and kisses the hollow behind her ear.
‘Stop it,’ she murmurs, but her legs shift against him and he smirks, moves his lips around her jaw.
‘Really?’
‘No.’
She turns, catches his mouth with hers; he lets his hand follow her curves all the way down to her thigh and back up around her back, rolling and pulling her on top of him.
She laughs softly against his cheek. ‘You never did play fair.’
His fingers trace the length of her spine.
‘Never needed a reason to.’
Her smile fades and she pulls back slightly, cups his cheeks in both hands. They hold each others’ gaze for a long, quiet moment before she leans down and he lifts his head; the kiss is languid and purposeful and they both know it means less in the light of day, but here, it’s better than anything else they’ve found thus far.
It’s enough.
--
l.a. day.
present.
Training sessions with Illyria started out as tests. How much she could lift, how much she could throw, how fast she could duck and jump and run. Simple strengths she never knew she had.
After a day of that, Angel suggested they move on to more productive things.
‘Like fighting,’ he had said with a grin, handing her a large knife.
Now, four days after that, she’s standing over him with a broad-edged sword at his throat and he’s laughing nervously, ‘Okay then. I guess she’s been training you, uh… pretty well.’
Cuddy steps back and lowers the sword. ‘I’ve picked up a few things.’
Angel jumps to his feet. Spike grins from the corner. ‘Shut up, Spike,’ he growls without turning to see his expression.
‘You just got whupped by a nurture demon,’ he says, bounce in his step as he approaches them. ‘I can’t not love that.’
Angel rounds on him. ‘You wanna have a go?’
‘Nope. Perfectly happy to see you get squashed, thanks.’
Angel turns his attention back to Cuddy. ‘You learn fast. Point is, the stronger you are, the better you should be able to control your power. You’ll have the strength to use more of it for longer periods of time.’
‘Which means more healin’ and less bleedin’. That’s cause for celebration, no?’ Cuddy and Angel just look at him. ‘What?’
‘We’re going out again tonight,’ he says to Cuddy. ‘We got word of a nest that just hatched; big, ugly demons with lots of claws.’
‘Which means lots of gashes,’ Spike adds.
‘And a reason for you to come. If you want.’
Cuddy considers this, nods slowly. ‘Okay,’ she says, meets their gaze and raises the sword; they both step back. ‘But I’m bringing this.’
--
night.
They pull up outside a small home in one of the quieter outskirt neighborhoods. Everything’s quiet as they climb out of the car, all four of them listening, watching.
‘You sure you got the place right?’ Spike mutters lowly. Angel looks at the address in his hand.
‘This is it.’
‘Well there doesn’t seem to be much goin—’
A loud scream breaks the silence and they set off at a run, up the steps of one of the houses; Illyria pushes the door down with one hand and they all fall through the doorway. Spike and Angel rush for the demons, Illyria waits for one to come to her and Cuddy freezes, stares at the bodies on the living room floor.
Different bodies, different people, different house. Same scene. She remembers her brother’s back, the logo on his letterman’s jacket as he guarded her. The sound of her mother’s voice telling them to run. The crack of her father’s neck.
The sound of a body hitting the wall brings her back just in time to see Angel jump to his feet. ‘Get these people out of here!’
Her eyes do a sweep. There are three bodies in the living room, two of them are dead. The demons are in the hallway between her and the kitchen and somehow she knows there are more people there, cowering.
She moves to the injured woman first, closes her hands over her neck to get rid of the cuts, then her shoulder to close the wound, her leg to fix the break.
One of the demons breaks free and charges at her; Illyria’s fist goes through its stomach, and he stops, falls.
Illyria shakes her hand and green blood splatters off. ‘Disgusting,’ she mutters, turns to punch another in the face.
Cuddy moves the woman behind the couch, out of the way of the fighting. She checks the pulses on the other two to be sure, but they’re gone. She doesn’t waste time. She hugs the wall, quickly slipping around the fight (six demons, now four, three of them; she almost wishes she were stronger) and into the kitchen.
Two children press themselves tighter against the wall under the table. She crouches down slowly, looks them in the eye.
‘It’s okay,’ she says. ‘I’m here to help you.’
The brother hugs the sister tighter to his chest and shakes his head.
She tries to smile. ‘I promise. I’m not going to hurt you.’
‘Lisa, watch out!’
She looks up at the charging demon, dives swiftly under the table just as Spike jumps on its back, knocks it over and stabs it through the brain.
‘I got one!’ he yells, then disappears back into the hallway.
Cuddy looks at the children, their eyes wide in terror; the little girl has a bite on her arm.
She points to it. ‘I can fix that,’ she says softly. ‘I promise. I won’t hurt you.’
The terror in their eyes lessens slightly and the young boy nods, whispers something in his sister's ear. She holds out her arm. Cuddy puts her fingers over the wound gently, and they watch as the skin heals, the blood disappears. The boy looks at her, his eyes wide.
‘It’s going to be okay.’
‘Where’s Lina?’ the girl asks. The boy covers her mouth with his hand and shushes her.
‘Who is Lina?’
The boy hesitates. ‘Our sister. She was in the living room on the phone.’
‘She’s fine. She’s unconscious but she’ll be okay,’ Cuddy reassures them.
There’s a loud grunt, a thud and then the fighting stops. She can hear Spike and Angel bantering, Illyria’s curt interjection.
‘Lisa?’
‘In the kitchen,’ she says, turns to the kids. ‘I’ll be right back, okay?’ They nod, and she slips out from under the table, steps close to them and speaks lowly.
‘The two in the living room are dead. There’s a woman behind the couch. She’s unconscious but she’ll be alright.’
‘The kids?’ Angel asks.
‘They’re fine too. Terrified, but.’ She swallows, her gaze falling over their shoulders and into the bloody living room. ‘Get the bodies out of here,’ she says. ‘They shouldn’t have to see that.’
Spike nods wordlessly and turns; Angel follows him. Illyria tilts her head.
‘Are you… alright?’
Cuddy nods swiftly, then turns back and crouches down under the table again. Illyria can hear her soft, gentle voice coaxing the kids out from their hiding place. A few moments later the three of them emerge, the boy holding tightly to his sister’s hand.
--
‘You did good out there,’ he says later, watching her comb bits of demon flesh out of her hair. ‘With those kids. And the woman, when she finally came to.’ He pauses. ‘They’re gonna be just fine.’
She laughs mirthlessly. ‘After extensive psychotherapy, maybe.’ She turns, shakes her head. ‘You can’t watch someone you love die and be ‘just fine’, Angel. You know that.’
He looks away and she moves closer, touches his arm gently. He looks down at her.
‘What happened wasn’t your fault. There was no way you could have known what was happening. Or what to do about it.’
‘I could have fixed them, if I’d known.’
‘You were six years old, Lisa. You wouldn’t have had the strength anyway.’
‘Maybe,’ she sighs. ‘But I still wish…’ She lets go of his arm, backs away. ‘Why didn’t you tell me what you were? Before I found out. You checked up on me for years, you could have—’
‘I was afraid you’d react the way you did.’
‘I might not have, if you’d explained it to me first.’
‘You didn’t want to hear it,’ he says, ‘And I don’t blame you. Vampires take out your whole family, you tend not to distinguish between them, soul or not. I get that.’
There’s a long pause, before Angel finally he reaches into his pocket, hands her a cordless phone. ‘Here,’ he says. ‘Phone lines are back up.’ She looks at him curiously. ‘I figured you’d want to check in back home, call the hospital. Your 'friend'.’ He gives her a knowing look. She smiles.
‘Thank you.’
*
part three
