Chapter One

The swamps sped by in an ever-darkening haze, the greens and browns bleeding into gray, the individual shapes swallowed up by mist rising from the stagnant water. The woman in the passenger seat of the Firebird traced the fleeting shapes on the window distractedly with one perfectly manicured finger, not really seeing anything. A phrase sparked in her memory, in the gloaming, the magic hour at sunset where anything could happen. Angel must have told her that once she supposed, it sounded maudlin enough.

Angel. She could feel him around her now, caressing her neck, stroking her hair, stroking Baby's hair, caressing Baby's neck… Stop it stop it stop it stop it, she screamed inside, breathing in sharply. She sat up straighter and pushed the thoughts back in the box at the back of her consciousness before she lost her composure. She wondered if she were glowing, she did that sometimes when she was upset. But no, the car remained dark and intact, her control was still good. Ha, control, that's all I'm good at these days. Look at my nails, immaculate. Why can't I just fall apart like normal people? I'm wearing fucking Versace to leave my husband. Other wives get to wear crap and look like they were run over by a truck.

Jean had looked so sad when she left, or maybe that was sad for René and Baby and Spike and the rest of his life crumbling into pieces at his feet. She hoped he would visit them in Mobile soon, he seemed the only sane one in the bunch. He just took the envelope and knew. He knew. Oh, God, what will he say? I hope Angel doesn't hurt him, but I think Jean Claude can take care of himself. Does this make me a coward, that I can't tell him to his face? She didn't really think so; she was afraid she would lose it finally, once and for all, and in some sort of spectacularly glowy explosion of despair destroy the whole household, her whole life, in one fell swoop if she stayed to deliver her pronouncement in person. She had kept herself together for the time Angelus had ravaged the countryside, while searching for a way to get Baby back, and later when the revelations nearly destroyed them all. But now, away from everyone, and alone with her thoughts, she was drowning.

She could feel the rumble of the engine through the seats, vibrating gently against her thighs and through the soles of her feet. Idly, she wondered if the soles of her feet could hurt as much as the rest of her soul did, and reached forward to fiddle with the radio one last time.

"Being in love really sucks," she said.

Her companion agreed. "Yes, ma'am. It does that." He was too quiet, she thought, and wondered where his thoughts were; probably back in New Orleans, scattered in pieces like hers, drifting farther and farther away every second.

She stared out at the lights of the eastern shore and wished she could fade away like they did, dissolving into nothingness. "It sucks worse when the one you love loves you, too, but you can't be with them."

"Yeah, it really does," René said. "But, you could be with Angelus if you want, ma'am."

She shook her head, afraid it would crack and bleed her heartache into the sad song seeping from the stereo. "No, I can't. I love him but I can't trust him anymore."

Trust, what a strange concept. She thought back to the choice she was presented all those years ago and rubbed her fingertip gently, as if it were still covered in blood. Is this what you want? Was it? She didn't know, she couldn't remember. She could see his face, the face of an angel and demon all at once, her blood smeared across his lip, her question burning the air between them, What are we? If it was just business, then we should be living that life; if not, then you betrayed me. So Angel, which is it? Are you the head of the house of Aurelius, and I your consort, or did you screw her because you wanted to? His face was so real now, she thought she could reach up and touch it again. The confusion in his eyes, the calculations and machinations, she could read them now. She didn't want to then. She screwed her eyes up tighter and willed her tears down.

And why Baby, what did she have that no one else did? Strange how she couldn't hate her, hell she couldn't even hate Angel. She was so tired, tired of the game, the civility of it all. Unbidden, golden eyes and hair of flames swirled into her view, laughing like they did when the consorts went hunting, dancing, just sitting around the parlor in the house on Rue Royal. Nevermore, oh God, nevermore. Could she ask, would he answer? She wasn't even sure she wanted to know, or if he knew the answer.

"You could have anyone you want. Why her?"

René shrugged. "I don't know. It sound silly for a man my age, but it was love at first sight."

Love at first sight? "Oh. That's… insane." Or maybe it was her that was insane. How had she done it, fooled them all? No one had even noticed her shattering, twisted and broken-an actress after all. Or maybe she just wasn't important. She almost laughed at that thought: self pity wasn't her style.

He grinned. "Yes, ma'am. But it true." The grin didn't last. He was so pretty when he grinned, he was beautiful even now, a Greek tragedy come to life, driving a Firebird down a Louisiana highway at dusk.

"You don't have to ma'am me constantly. My name is Cordelia but the family calls me Cordy, so stop with the ma'am already." I suppose I am old enough to be a ma'am; it sure makes me feel old. No, it's not that, I feel old anyway. Worn out, exhausted, wishing I had a nice bubble bath. Maybe René has bubble baths in Mobile.

"Yes ma… Cordel…Cor…Yes, Mémé."

She didn't speak Cajun, but she did take French in high school. Didn't mémé mean ocean? What do oceans have to do with me? Oh wait, that's mer for ocean, maybe it means something else. She looked towards the ocean, so calm, and wondered what it would be like to just walk into the surf and keep going. She read a short story once about that, The Awakening, except the lady hadn't been a demon and had successfully killed herself. She wondered if she would just end up a glowing beacon in the green depths, lighting fish highways in the deep. "Okay, then." She shifted and stretched, her muscles a riot of stress and anguish. "I… I really do appreciate you letting me come with you." If not a bubble bath, then maybe I can find someone to give me a backrub or something. "I just couldn't stay in that house anymore."

She shook her head trying not to see the house, smell its garden or hear the soft sounds of the other residents, one or two in particular. "Yeah, me neither."

She leaned back and closed her eyes; maybe she could sleep. How ridiculous, I haven't slept in weeks. Actually, I don't know when I last slept and didn't see them together. Why even bother. But she did bother, and that caring was what ripped her apart. It would be easier just to give up and will herself into another dimension. She was pretty sure she could do that, well, maybe if she had Wes and Dru to help, but they seemed to think this was all OK, so they probably wouldn't. No, she had to be fair, they didn't think it was OK, just something that wasn't unforeseen. I hate fate. Fate sucks. Fate does nothing but fuck up my world. I was happy. But she wasn't sure she had been really, she had just been willfully blind. She had seen the looks but didn't dwell on them, he said he loved her and she believed him.

Actually, she was pretty sure he still loved her, and he would be devastated when he got her letter, but it wasn't enough. What's the old phrase-fool me once, shame on you, fool me twice, shame on me? Well, I can't let it happen again. I won't let it happen again. But she still loved him. She couldn't stop loving him; sure, right now she pretty much hated the sight of him, but she did know that she wouldn't hate him nearly so much if she didn't love him. But there was nothing left for her there.

Not even Connor. He was grown, and didn't need a mother. Besides, she was fairly positive that he had had some non-motherly thoughts about her sometimes. It wasn't that unreasonable since she wasn't really his mother, and she looked about his age. The thought of staying at the Hyperion like nothing was wrong made her throat catch. She almost asked René to pull over, but got her reflexes under control. She really couldn't decide if she wanted to cry, vomit, eat four quarts of ice cream, take a bath or kill something. And since René was the only other living thing around, and her only mode of transportation since she didn't drive manual transmission, she didn't want to kill him. When she looked over at him, it occurred to her that he looked mostly dead already.

"René, you OK? You look about as good as I feel, and that is not a compliment."

He turned haunted eyes in her direction, but she didn't think he saw her. Dead man's eyes, she thought, the windows to his soul are clouding over. She tentatively reached out to touch his arm and he almost jumped out of his skin.

"Mémé, you startled me."

No kidding, I wonder where he is? "Are you OK? How much farther?"

"We in Mississippi."

That didn't really answer my question, but it looks like it will have to do. He turned back to the road, clenching his hands on the wheel. The leather squeaked softly in protest, and the stitching began to tear slightly.

No wonder vengeance demons do so much business, just look at the two of us. The only thing holding us together are our sad, skinned hides. She wondered if Anya did much business these days. They hadn't spoken in a while, but perhaps she would be interested in coming for a visit. Not that she would partake of her services, of course, she knew better than to use the "W" word, and she didn't want vengeance; peace perhaps, but not vengeance.

They sat in silence for a while, each lost in their own thoughts. I wonder if you can really die of heartbreak? She was convinced that her stomach was missing, it evaporated sometime 100 miles back and her internal organs were shifting around to accommodate the new space. Before they had all been so busy, fixing Baby, fighting for their lives, and giving the Watcher's Council the drubbing of their lifetimes. She smiled grimly at that. At least one good thing has come out of this debacle. At least others have survived intact.

And I have survived too, regardless of whether or not I wanted to. Suddenly it hit her-this was the rest of eternity. Without Angel, without Connor, without the Pride, and she had no idea where to go. Her hands started shaking and it was all she could do to prevent her throat from screaming aloud. What do I know about Mobile? This is the South, the Real South, and I'm just a girl from LA. What am I thinking putting my future into the hands of someone that looks like he is going to rip the wheel right off the steering column! She wondered if he could actually do it, or if she should distract him, but found she didn't really care. She turned her head and looked out the window and practiced breathing.

This is me breathing. I am here, I am alive, and I can do this. I am Cordelia, and nothing beats me-ever. The night swam by, faster than she could catch, and she wondered what was out there. When she had been a child, she had wondered if there were monsters in the woods, and now that she was grown, she was sure of it. The highway was bleak and empty-just as well. She didn't feel like dealing with anyone, even the faceless anyones in passing cars with their petty small lives that didn't hang in the balance every other Thursday and decide the fate of the world. She really wished she could sleep.

The muscle car ate up the miles and soon they were approaching Mobile city limits. She couldn't remember if they had spoken again. The car pulled up to a cotton candy pink Victorian creation and rumbled down to quiet. No one moved. René bowed his head to his chest and seemed to disappear into himself. She wondered if he would evaporate, like some sad forgotten nightmares did when she woke up. She wondered if she was dreaming and closed her eyes. When she opened them again, René's clear sea-colored eyes were on her, asking silently for the strength to move. She smiled softly and nodded.

She knew he hadn't called ahead to let anyone know she was coming, but she had heard that his "daughter" kept a wonderful house. Wes and Dru loved it here, and she trusted them. That word again, trust, can I ever really believe again? She took a deep breath and moved up the stairs. She felt like she was shaking so hard that all her carefully pressed, but currently wrinkled, clothes would rattle off her body and she would blow away in the warm night breeze. René wrapped his arm around her shoulders, as if he were floating away too, and wanted something to hold on to. She didn't mind.

The door opened and they moved into a warmly lit drawing room. Across the room, a tiny blonde woman was swirling around, dancing with herself. Her hunter green satin hoop skirt swished across the floor to music only the lady could hear. She thought the girl looked like a pixie and must be the one that was so afraid of Spike for so long. What is her name… There were others in the room, but all eyes were on the vision from the past. God am I underdressed! No wonder Drusilla likes it so much here. Do I have to wear skirts like this? Just then she caught sight of a dark man dressed in Confederate soldier clothing. No, looks like this is for a costume party. I wonder when I can sit down; René doesn't look like he can last much longer either.

The pixie swished to a startled stop and raised one hand to clutch at the crucifix around her neck. She thought the girl looked a bit like an inquisitive bird when she tilted her head like she was listening for something. Suddenly the dainty woman dropped into a curtsey.

"Welcome back, Daddy."

René turned and went up the stairs, but she had no idea where to go. She wished she could react, could say something, but she just wanted to cry. She had decided that killing something took too much energy, and if she was going to expend energy, she would probably choose to be sick, since that seemed to be what her body wanted to do anyway, so she settled on a bath as something her mind and body could agree on.

"He's so broken. What happened? What have you kept from me?"

"Nothing that you needed to know. Cordy. We weren't expecting you. These are two of the younger children, Easy and his consort, Becca. Becca manages the house." The man walked towards her. She remembered his face, but she was so tired, and remembering his name seemed like so much work. Samuel or something, perhaps. She fought back more tears, though she wasn't sure if they were from despair or exhaustion. "This is Cordelia Chase-Angel. You've heard us all speak of her. Becca..."

"There's a small suite next to René's room that's free. Shall I have Maria prepare it?"

"Good idea." That came from the same man. Oh wait, he's a vampire. They're all vampires but Becca. "Then you two get to the ball. I'll expect a report out of you afterwards." A ball, hah! Oh, I used to love balls. I want a bath. Why don't they just shut up and show me a bath?

Easy inclined his head, acknowledging the order as he released Becca. "I'll meet you on the veranda. Then we'll go. It'll be all right, cara."

"No, I somehow don't think it will. I don't think it will ever be alright again."

You got that right. Never the same, and never alright, but we'll manage, it's what we do. Becca smiled and inclined her head. Cordelia took a deep breath and turned to follow up the stairs.

 

~Fin~

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