11/25
FanFic: Never Heals: House/Angel Crossover: (1/3)
I can't believe I actually wrote this. Really makes no sense if you don't watch Angel. But Cuddy has supernatural powers. FTW. Thanks to Bec for the beta, several ideas and some cattle prodding. :D
princeton. night.
present.
‘Lisa.’
She knows that voice like a bad memory. She isn’t surprised.
‘What are you doing here?’ She turns from her kitchen counter, leans back and eyes him carefully as he steps from the shadows. His appearance hasn’t changed. She didn’t expect it to.
‘No hug hello?’ he can’t help but ask, a slight twitch of his lips. She doesn’t smile.
‘How did you get in?’
He sobers; looks almost ashamed. He pulls a small orange ball, glass probably, from his pocket and hands it to her.
‘Single use only.’
‘The achievements of Wolfram and Hart.’ She doesn’t reach to take it. ‘My congratulations.’
‘Keeping tabs on me?’
He sighs, steps further into the light; it softens him slightly. She shifts.
‘It’s not what you think,’ he says tiredly, as if he’s said it a thousand times before.
Her tone is dry. ‘I’m sure.’
She unfolds her arms, rests her elbows on the granite behind her.
‘So. What brings you to New Jersey?’
--
‘I thought you averted The Apocalypse.’
‘Yeah, this apocalypse.’
‘Then you don’t need me.’
Angel sighs, frustrated, and follows her down the hallway. ‘My team is all but gone. There’s a very small handful of us left and the Senior Partners aren’t nearly finished.’
‘I’m not a fighter, Angel.’
‘You’re a healer. We have-’
‘I can’t raise the dead.’
‘I’m not asking you to.’ He moves swiftly and blockades himself in the doorway of her bedroom.
‘Let me through.’
‘L.A’s a black cloud. Portals are opening that we can’t close; demons are comin’ in and the death toll’s rising and I’m not just talking our people. I’m talking civilians and-’
He stops because she’s laughing quietly, her eyes sparkling dangerously. ‘ ‘Our people’?’ she asks, smirks.
Angel grits his teeth. ‘This is not about us. We’re saving people left and right but there’s only a few of us and a lot of wounds. People are dying, Lisa. I thought you were supposed to stop that kind of thing.’
Cuddy swallows, tries to keep her face blank. ‘If you think you’re going to guilt me into this-’
‘I’m doing everything in my power,’ he says slowly. ‘to guilt you into this.’
She glares up at him, tries to push past. He doesn’t move. She turns around and walks back toward the living room.
‘It’s not going to work,’ she snaps. ‘You know why?’ She turns suddenly; he almost runs into her, stops short, doesn’t touch her.
‘I know why,’ he murmurs, then again: ‘This is not about us. It’s about them. It’s about the people who are fighting for what’s right and frankly, they’re getting crushed.’ He pauses, holds her gaze. ‘I wouldn’t ask for your help if I didn’t absolutely need it.’
There’s a long pause; he can hear her heart beat faster, her breathing tighten.
‘Fine.’
--
plane to l.a.
‘So… your plan is to amass an army of civilian fighters and… do what, exactly? Ritual sacrifice?’
Angel glares across the aisle. ‘We’re looking for people to help us rebuild the offices in the daytime. We’re looking for demons,’ he gives her a pointed look. ‘to help us with the fight.’
‘And how many recruits do you have so far?’
‘Including you?’ Angel shifts, tries to cover the word by clearing his throat. ‘One.’
Cuddy stares at him for a moment then drops her head back against the seat. She stares out the window.
‘Oh, and uh. The phones are out. So if you need to call someone, you should do it from here.’ He points to the phone in the corner.
Cuddy scoffs.
‘Fabulous.’
--
l.a. night.
The L.A Office of Wolfram and Hart is one floor now. Pillars are horizontal; ceilings are vertical; the roof exists, put only in part.
‘Makes daylight a bitch,’ Spike says pleasantly.
‘Spike, this is Lisa Cuddy; Lisa - this is Spike.’
‘Got a soul now,’ he shrugs, ‘before you ask.’
But Cuddy just nods, looks around.
The city itself is crumbling. On the streets around the building she can see the occasional person run past, searching for cover. The air smells like smoke and blood and she doesn’t really want to know what it looks like in the day time.
‘Who’s left?’ she asks. Angel and Spike exchange a look.
‘Uh… we are, love,’ Spike says, but there’s a bitterness missing in his voice. ‘Us and Blue over there.’
Cuddy follows his gesture with her eyes.
‘Everyone else is gone?’
‘Of the original team? Yeah.’ Angel sighs.
Cuddy snorts, glares at him. ‘You really know how to pick your battles, don’t you?’ she snaps, and stalks away.
Spike frowns slightly. ‘She doesn’t like you very much, does she?’
‘No.’
He cheers up suddenly. ‘Then I like her.’
--
‘This is the training room,’ he says. ‘Or what’s left of it.’
There are three walls, mostly, and half a ceiling. A pillar has fallen in the middle, slicing the room diagonally. Angel stands on one side, Cuddy on the other. Illyria stands on the pillar, looks back and forth at them. Spike leans against the far wall, watching.
Cuddy skims the room. ‘I have a feeling I’m going to need a lot of that.’ She turns suddenly. ‘I don’t use my powers, Angel. They’re weaker than you think.’
But Angel shakes his head. ‘I don’t think so,’ he says, pulls a knife from his pocket and throws it at her. She ducks.
‘What the hell-’
‘Reflexes are good.’
'Well that's an understatement,’ Spike mutters, pushes off the wall.
‘Don’t throw knives at me.’
‘Oh, relax, Cuddles. He wasn’t trying to kill you.’ He looks at Angel. ‘Hurt you maybe, but-’
‘Spike.’
Illyria steps down, tilts her head. ‘You possess the power I once had and yet you decline to use it. Why?’
‘This isn’t what I do.’
‘It’s what you are,’ Angel says; Illyria interrupts him.
‘You’re a half-breed. Mixed. Stained. Your power is no longer pure.’ Illyria turns abruptly. ‘I will train her. She has no liking for the two of you.’
Angel glares in Cuddy’s direction. ‘I don’t really care if she likes me-’
‘And if she kills you?’ Illyria tilts her head. ‘Will you care then?’
Angel scoffs, ‘She’s not gonna-’ But Cuddy isn’t looking at him. At any of them. ‘Fine,’ he snaps.
--
day.
‘Looks like your girl and Blue are gettin’ along swimmingly.’
‘She’s not my girl,’ he mutters, his teeth clenched. ‘She’s a resource.’
‘A nurture demon? You know the Senior Partners are havin’ a fit of giggles and a bloody field day over this-’
‘They already did,’ he snaps. Sighs.
‘You still thinkin’ about Gunn?’
‘And Wes. And Fred. And Cordy.’
‘Lotta casualties. Lotta soldiers down.’
Angel says nothing, just frowns deeper and leans against the window, staring out at the bright city. What’s left of the roof overhead gives them enough protection to span the day. Spike sits on the arm of a chair and watches him. ‘And, you think she can help.’
‘She’s very powerful.’
‘She doesn’t practice. She has no idea how to use her power-’
‘She was trying to be normal-’
‘Helluva lota good that does us now.’
Angel rounds on him. ‘Why are you so angry, huh? You don’t even-’
‘No, but you do.’ He stands, walks a little closer. Angel shifts. ‘She doesn’t trust you. I can smell it.’
Angel sighs and turns back to the window. ‘She has no reason to.’
Spike nods slowly, barely softens his voice. ‘What’d you do?’
‘Her whole family was killed by vampires when she was six. Mother, father, brothers. She saw the whole thing.’
‘Right,’ he says, ‘I gathered that part but what’d you do?’
‘I saved her. Kept in touch; I just - I wanted to make sure she was alright, I mean the foster care system is just…’ he shakes his head disgustedly. ‘I never told her who I was.’
‘Ah. And one night you’re out gettin’ the kiddy an ice cream cone and it turns into a rumble. You make your scary wrinkly face and she never trusts a soul again.’ He pauses. ‘No pun intended.’
Angel makes a small noise in the back of his throat. ‘It doesn’t matter that we have souls. We’re still vampires.’
Spike snorts. ‘Typical. Dumpin’ us all into one giant, evil, people-eatin’ basket. Like Nazis-’
‘Spike.’
‘What?’
‘She’s Jewish.’
‘Oh.’ Spike shrugs. ‘Bad joke, then.’
--
She tilts her head, walks slowly around her in a wide circle.
‘I do not understand.’
Cuddy drops her hand from the crumbling wall and turns her head.
‘Your power, though not considerable to mine, is… great. And yet you voluntarily choose this…human form. Why?’
‘I am human. Mostly.’
‘You are young still,’ she says, with some scorn. ‘Tell me how you acquired your power.’
‘My mother was a nurture demon. I didn't find out I was too until several years after...’ she trails off, looks away.
Illyria tilts her head.
‘You heal the sick, both with your powers and your profession. It is a waste of time.’
Cuddy laughs. ‘To care about people?’
‘To save them. This world has too many humans anyway,’ she mutters, but her voice lacks the conviction it once held.
‘So we should just stop trying?’
Illyria pauses, studies her. ‘You grieve as Wesley did. What for?’
She smiles humorlessly. ‘Humans.’
‘Certain humans.’
Cuddy nods but doesn’t answer.
‘Did you know her? Fred. The body I inhabit.’
She shakes her head. ‘No. I haven’t seen anyone in a long time.’
‘But Wesley. You were close.’
‘No, but I…’ she trails off, laughs softly. Then turns abruptly. ‘How?’
‘A demon called Vail. Wesley was suspended in the air and gutted with a knife. Such a simple, stupid weapon. So… deadly. I…’ Illyria hesitates. ‘I do not know how to mourn him.’
Cuddy reaches out and rests her hand on Illyria’s arm. If she’s surprised by the action, she doesn’t show it.
‘Remember him,’ Cuddy says.
Illyria barely nods.
--
michigan. night.
1981
A boy in the frat house overdoses and when she’s sure no one’s looking she heals him from the outside in.
She does it a month later for a girl on the lacrosse team with a broken leg, and two weeks after that for her roommate whose boyfriend punched her in the face. Everything discreet, everything excused.
It doesn’t take long for people to find her: demon clans, mystics, Wolfram and Hart. Angel finds her the day after she declines their offer.
‘You shouldn’t be walking around after dark,’ he says, steps from the shadows.
‘You-’ she whispers breathlessly, backs away into the light. ‘Don’t come near me.’ He recognizes her voice, her smell. He softens his tone.
‘I’m not going to hurt you.’ He steps into the light so she can see his face, free of sharp edges and fangs.
‘Get away from me.’
‘I just want to talk.’
‘Talk?’ She laughs breathlessly, anger and fear tangling together. Her eyes narrow. ‘You did a lot of that.’
‘Look, I’m not’ he steps forward too quickly, she jolts back. ‘I’m… You’re the girl, right? With the healing powers. I didn’t know it was you, I wouldn’t have come, if-’
‘If what?’ She snaps, backs away, never taking her eyes off him. ‘What do you want? Come to finish off the family?’
‘What? No, I - I’m not… evil. I have a soul. I tried to tell you-’
‘I’ll scream.’
He rolls his eyes. ‘As if that would do any good,’ he mutters. ‘Look. If I’d wanted to kill you, you’d be dead by now, okay?’
‘Cuddy.’
Her eyes don’t leave his face but his flicker to the side. There’s a man, tall and lanky watching them both with subdued interest. He leans against the lamppost nonchalantly.
‘If I’d have known it was a midnight rendezvous you were sneaking off to, I’d have let you go a little sooner.’
‘It’s not a rendezvous. I was trying to get back to my dorm; this guy just wanted to… talk.’
The guy frowns. ‘I don’t recognize you.’
Angel takes a step forward. ‘Prob’ly better that you don’t.’
‘Stop it.’
Her voice has just enough tremor in it to make them both freeze, look over at her. She swallows; he can hear her heart racing.
‘House. Would you mind walking me home?’ It’s a question, but her tone leaves little room for discussion.
The lines on his face deepen, somewhere between a frown and a scowl but he nods, pushes off the lamppost.
‘Come on.’
Angel slips back into the shadows, watches them go.
‘Who was that?’ he hears him ask.
‘I don’t know,’ she says, ‘Just some guy. Lost probably.’
House nods, but doesn’t miss the way she moves closer to him.
--
l.a. day.
present.
‘Afternoon, Cuddles.’
She doesn’t look up from the stack of papers she’s going through. ‘Spike.’
‘Whacha got there?’
‘New budget proposal from podiatry. They want a hundred thousand dollars to do more research on orthortic intervention. We just hired ten nurses so I have to tell them no.’
Spike wrinkles his nose. ‘You brought work with you? That’s a bit wrong.’ He flops down in the chair next to her and stares. The light from the small lamp illuminates her face, washes her out. She looks tired, but not vulnerable as he would have expected. Not scared.
‘How’re your dates with Miss God-King going?’
‘Fine,’ she mutters, flips through pages.
‘Well, you’re still in one piece so obviously she likes you-’
‘Can I help you with something?’ she asks sharply, still without glancing at him.
He gives her a look anyway. ‘Oh, come on. I haven’t done anything.’ She finally looks up, raises her eyebrows. ‘I’m not the one that ate your family.’ Then under his breath. ‘So you don’t have to be all pissy.’
She sighs heavily, puts her pen down. ‘You’re right.’
Spike frowns. ‘I am?’
‘I’m pretty sure you’re not used to hearing this but it’s… it’s not you.’
‘Is it Angel? I’m totally alright with it bein’ Angel.’
Cuddy almost laughs, shakes her head. ‘It’s not Angel.’
Spike sits down across from her. ‘But it is someone.’ She looks away. ‘Oh, come on. I do love a good gossip.’
‘I just…’ she hesitates. ‘I… I deal with numbers, with patients and crazy doctors and… budget reports. Not demon vanquishing and portal closing and-’
‘Vamps that gnawed on your Dad.’ She glares. ‘Sorry. Bad visual.’ There’s a long silence. Cuddy fingers the rubber band around her wrist and Spike fights with himself internally. Finally he sighs, annoyed. ‘Look. Angel’s got his soul for, what? ‘Bout a hundred years now, give or take. I got my soul about eight months ago. Angel spent - still spends, probably - the majority of those years mopin’ and eatin’ rats ‘cause he can't bear the thought of his Reign of Terror and whatnot. I got drunk as soon as possible and haven’t thought about it ever since. Well. Except that one time I got hacked up by that psycho slayer, but that's-’
‘Does this story have a point?’
‘I’m not sayin’ Angel’s better than me. ‘Cause he’s not. But if you wanna play the guilt card with him, don’t bother. He’s already got a full deck.’
--
night.
‘Stay down, stay hidden. You don’t make noise, you’re not seen. Watch. Don’t fight.’
Cuddy just glares her response.
‘Good.’
She watches, from the small hole she’s crouched in while they fight, demon after demon after demon that pour from a fizzing portal in midair. When there’s a slight lull, Angel stops fighting, pulls out a scroll and begins to yell Latin phrases; swords clank over the sound and he yells louder, repetitively, and then throws the scroll into the vacuum.
The remaining demons holler and grab their heads and in a flash of light that sends Cuddy reeling they’re all sucked into the now closed portal.
‘They crow their victory,’ Illyria says, suddenly at her side. ‘They think this battle means something.’ She turns sharply to Cuddy. ‘Their optimism makes me nauseous.’
Cuddy stands, brushes dirt from her clothes and watches as the two men approach.
‘That’s not optimism,’ she says. ‘It’s denial.’
‘So,’ Angel says, a quick grin on his face. ‘What’d ya think?’
Illyria looks from Angel to Cuddy and back again. ‘This mortal amuses me. We should keep her,’ she says before striding off.
Angel’s grin slowly slips. He looks at Cuddy. ‘What’d I do?’
--
The rest of the night they patrol the city, staying close to the sides of buildings. They make a half circle around her like a shell and she pretends not to notice. A voice cries out; they break into a run.
They round a corner and a man bumps into them, screaming and hurling himself away. ‘No, no please no don’t hurt me!’ Angel tries to calm him and Spike looks over his shoulder.
‘Looks like we’ve got company.’
Two demons, one vampire. Easy targets.
Cuddy touches the man’s arm; he quiets and stills. ‘We’re not going to hurt you.’
‘I will guard the mortal,’ Illyria says.
‘More bloodshed for us,’ Spike grins. He and Angel charge forward.
Cuddy and the man, now calm but whimpering step back into the shadows; Illyria stands between them and the fight, watching both scenes out of the corners of her eyes.
‘Who - who are you people? What’s going on?’
He has a deep bite mark on his neck, scratches all over his face and gashes in his side. She smiles at him.
‘I’m Lisa; I’m a doctor.’
Her voice alone calms his trembling. ‘But-but what are you doing here-what are those things?’
‘There have been some pretty strange things going on in L.A,’ she says calmly, cupping her palm over his neck; she smiles again. ‘As I’m sure you’ve noticed.’
‘Yeah, it’s been a little - ah!’ He cries out as she pulls the fabric away from his side. A large chuck of flesh is missing and he’s still bleeding out. ‘Ohgod,’ he breathes. ‘I’m gonna die. I’m gonna-’
‘You’ll be fine, I promise,’ she sooths.
Illyria tilts her head with interest at the way the humans interact. The clanking of swords draws her attention back to the fight. The vampire is gone but the demons are strong, not easily killed by swords. She continues to watch, but listens to the mortals’ conversation.
‘What’s your name?’ she asks, slowly and carefully moving her hands over the wound. It’s large, deep, requires more energy than she’s used to but she can feel him panicking; if he bolts he’ll die for sure and she knows no normal doctor could fix this wound in time.
‘A-Alex,’ he says, hisses as her fingers brush his skin. ‘What are you doing?’
‘What do you do, Alex? For a living?’
He frowns, grits his teeth but stutters, ‘I’m-I’m an investment banker.’
She smiles. ‘My uncle’s an investment banker. You like the work?’
‘Uh, sure. It’s fine.’ He glances over at the fight; one demon down, one to go. Illyria hasn’t moved. His eyes widen as the demon throws a punch that sends Angel twenty feet up the wall; he flinches hard as he crashes to the ground.
‘I-I think it just killed that guy!’
Cuddy doesn’t blink, doesn’t look away. She’s so tired but only half the wound is healed. ‘He’ll be fine,’ she whispers, moves her hands down. ‘Stop moving.’
He looks back at her, at her hands over the wound in his side. Most of the skin is healed and the scratches gone but it’s the hole that’s just so deep, caused so much damage.
‘How are you-’
‘You have any family, Alex?’ she asks in her caring, doctor voice. It’s quieter, though. She’s draining. Illyria takes a step closer to them, stops.
‘Uh, yeah, wife and two kids.’ He looks up again at the sound of a loud grunt, just in time to see Spike take his battleax to the demon’s neck. He stops just before landing a fatal blow to Angel’s back. His head falls, and the rest of him follows. He turns back at the sound of her voice.
‘There.’ Cuddy smiles gently at him. He can’t tell in the dark but her skin is almost white and her hands are shaking. Illyria steps closer, Spike and Angel just behind her.
‘You guys okay?’
‘I’m… yeah. What-how did you-?’ His attention is on Cuddy as they stand slowly; she holds the wall discreetly.
‘Uh… special lotion,’ she says awkwardly. Her voice is airy. ‘Works every time.’
‘Right,’ he says slowly, then, ‘Are you okay?’
‘I’m fine,’ she murmurs, over Angel’s,
‘Spike. Walk this guy home.’
‘Let’s go, chap. Make sure no more creatures of the night try to make a feast out of you.’
Alex nods slowly. ‘Sure…’ He looks back at Cuddy. ‘Thank you. For… whatever it is you did.’
She nods, straightens, steps away from the wall. ‘You’re welcome.’
Spike and Alex disappear; Angel steps closer to her. ‘Are you sure you’re alright?’
‘I uh…’ she laughs breathlessly. ‘I would really appreciate it if someone would catch me; I’m about to pass out.’
Illyria steps forward before Angel can move, cradles her body.
‘Careful.’
Illyria just looks at him.
‘You push her too hard,’ she says, walks away.
Angel sighs and follows.
*
part two
I can't believe I actually wrote this. Really makes no sense if you don't watch Angel. But Cuddy has supernatural powers. FTW. Thanks to Bec for the beta, several ideas and some cattle prodding. :D
princeton. night.
present.
‘Lisa.’
She knows that voice like a bad memory. She isn’t surprised.
‘What are you doing here?’ She turns from her kitchen counter, leans back and eyes him carefully as he steps from the shadows. His appearance hasn’t changed. She didn’t expect it to.
‘No hug hello?’ he can’t help but ask, a slight twitch of his lips. She doesn’t smile.
‘How did you get in?’
He sobers; looks almost ashamed. He pulls a small orange ball, glass probably, from his pocket and hands it to her.
‘Single use only.’
‘The achievements of Wolfram and Hart.’ She doesn’t reach to take it. ‘My congratulations.’
‘Keeping tabs on me?’
He sighs, steps further into the light; it softens him slightly. She shifts.
‘It’s not what you think,’ he says tiredly, as if he’s said it a thousand times before.
Her tone is dry. ‘I’m sure.’
She unfolds her arms, rests her elbows on the granite behind her.
‘So. What brings you to New Jersey?’
--
‘I thought you averted The Apocalypse.’
‘Yeah, this apocalypse.’
‘Then you don’t need me.’
Angel sighs, frustrated, and follows her down the hallway. ‘My team is all but gone. There’s a very small handful of us left and the Senior Partners aren’t nearly finished.’
‘I’m not a fighter, Angel.’
‘You’re a healer. We have-’
‘I can’t raise the dead.’
‘I’m not asking you to.’ He moves swiftly and blockades himself in the doorway of her bedroom.
‘Let me through.’
‘L.A’s a black cloud. Portals are opening that we can’t close; demons are comin’ in and the death toll’s rising and I’m not just talking our people. I’m talking civilians and-’
He stops because she’s laughing quietly, her eyes sparkling dangerously. ‘ ‘Our people’?’ she asks, smirks.
Angel grits his teeth. ‘This is not about us. We’re saving people left and right but there’s only a few of us and a lot of wounds. People are dying, Lisa. I thought you were supposed to stop that kind of thing.’
Cuddy swallows, tries to keep her face blank. ‘If you think you’re going to guilt me into this-’
‘I’m doing everything in my power,’ he says slowly. ‘to guilt you into this.’
She glares up at him, tries to push past. He doesn’t move. She turns around and walks back toward the living room.
‘It’s not going to work,’ she snaps. ‘You know why?’ She turns suddenly; he almost runs into her, stops short, doesn’t touch her.
‘I know why,’ he murmurs, then again: ‘This is not about us. It’s about them. It’s about the people who are fighting for what’s right and frankly, they’re getting crushed.’ He pauses, holds her gaze. ‘I wouldn’t ask for your help if I didn’t absolutely need it.’
There’s a long pause; he can hear her heart beat faster, her breathing tighten.
‘Fine.’
--
plane to l.a.
‘So… your plan is to amass an army of civilian fighters and… do what, exactly? Ritual sacrifice?’
Angel glares across the aisle. ‘We’re looking for people to help us rebuild the offices in the daytime. We’re looking for demons,’ he gives her a pointed look. ‘to help us with the fight.’
‘And how many recruits do you have so far?’
‘Including you?’ Angel shifts, tries to cover the word by clearing his throat. ‘One.’
Cuddy stares at him for a moment then drops her head back against the seat. She stares out the window.
‘Oh, and uh. The phones are out. So if you need to call someone, you should do it from here.’ He points to the phone in the corner.
Cuddy scoffs.
‘Fabulous.’
--
l.a. night.
The L.A Office of Wolfram and Hart is one floor now. Pillars are horizontal; ceilings are vertical; the roof exists, put only in part.
‘Makes daylight a bitch,’ Spike says pleasantly.
‘Spike, this is Lisa Cuddy; Lisa - this is Spike.’
‘Got a soul now,’ he shrugs, ‘before you ask.’
But Cuddy just nods, looks around.
The city itself is crumbling. On the streets around the building she can see the occasional person run past, searching for cover. The air smells like smoke and blood and she doesn’t really want to know what it looks like in the day time.
‘Who’s left?’ she asks. Angel and Spike exchange a look.
‘Uh… we are, love,’ Spike says, but there’s a bitterness missing in his voice. ‘Us and Blue over there.’
Cuddy follows his gesture with her eyes.
‘Everyone else is gone?’
‘Of the original team? Yeah.’ Angel sighs.
Cuddy snorts, glares at him. ‘You really know how to pick your battles, don’t you?’ she snaps, and stalks away.
Spike frowns slightly. ‘She doesn’t like you very much, does she?’
‘No.’
He cheers up suddenly. ‘Then I like her.’
--
‘This is the training room,’ he says. ‘Or what’s left of it.’
There are three walls, mostly, and half a ceiling. A pillar has fallen in the middle, slicing the room diagonally. Angel stands on one side, Cuddy on the other. Illyria stands on the pillar, looks back and forth at them. Spike leans against the far wall, watching.
Cuddy skims the room. ‘I have a feeling I’m going to need a lot of that.’ She turns suddenly. ‘I don’t use my powers, Angel. They’re weaker than you think.’
But Angel shakes his head. ‘I don’t think so,’ he says, pulls a knife from his pocket and throws it at her. She ducks.
‘What the hell-’
‘Reflexes are good.’
'Well that's an understatement,’ Spike mutters, pushes off the wall.
‘Don’t throw knives at me.’
‘Oh, relax, Cuddles. He wasn’t trying to kill you.’ He looks at Angel. ‘Hurt you maybe, but-’
‘Spike.’
Illyria steps down, tilts her head. ‘You possess the power I once had and yet you decline to use it. Why?’
‘This isn’t what I do.’
‘It’s what you are,’ Angel says; Illyria interrupts him.
‘You’re a half-breed. Mixed. Stained. Your power is no longer pure.’ Illyria turns abruptly. ‘I will train her. She has no liking for the two of you.’
Angel glares in Cuddy’s direction. ‘I don’t really care if she likes me-’
‘And if she kills you?’ Illyria tilts her head. ‘Will you care then?’
Angel scoffs, ‘She’s not gonna-’ But Cuddy isn’t looking at him. At any of them. ‘Fine,’ he snaps.
--
day.
‘Looks like your girl and Blue are gettin’ along swimmingly.’
‘She’s not my girl,’ he mutters, his teeth clenched. ‘She’s a resource.’
‘A nurture demon? You know the Senior Partners are havin’ a fit of giggles and a bloody field day over this-’
‘They already did,’ he snaps. Sighs.
‘You still thinkin’ about Gunn?’
‘And Wes. And Fred. And Cordy.’
‘Lotta casualties. Lotta soldiers down.’
Angel says nothing, just frowns deeper and leans against the window, staring out at the bright city. What’s left of the roof overhead gives them enough protection to span the day. Spike sits on the arm of a chair and watches him. ‘And, you think she can help.’
‘She’s very powerful.’
‘She doesn’t practice. She has no idea how to use her power-’
‘She was trying to be normal-’
‘Helluva lota good that does us now.’
Angel rounds on him. ‘Why are you so angry, huh? You don’t even-’
‘No, but you do.’ He stands, walks a little closer. Angel shifts. ‘She doesn’t trust you. I can smell it.’
Angel sighs and turns back to the window. ‘She has no reason to.’
Spike nods slowly, barely softens his voice. ‘What’d you do?’
‘Her whole family was killed by vampires when she was six. Mother, father, brothers. She saw the whole thing.’
‘Right,’ he says, ‘I gathered that part but what’d you do?’
‘I saved her. Kept in touch; I just - I wanted to make sure she was alright, I mean the foster care system is just…’ he shakes his head disgustedly. ‘I never told her who I was.’
‘Ah. And one night you’re out gettin’ the kiddy an ice cream cone and it turns into a rumble. You make your scary wrinkly face and she never trusts a soul again.’ He pauses. ‘No pun intended.’
Angel makes a small noise in the back of his throat. ‘It doesn’t matter that we have souls. We’re still vampires.’
Spike snorts. ‘Typical. Dumpin’ us all into one giant, evil, people-eatin’ basket. Like Nazis-’
‘Spike.’
‘What?’
‘She’s Jewish.’
‘Oh.’ Spike shrugs. ‘Bad joke, then.’
--
She tilts her head, walks slowly around her in a wide circle.
‘I do not understand.’
Cuddy drops her hand from the crumbling wall and turns her head.
‘Your power, though not considerable to mine, is… great. And yet you voluntarily choose this…human form. Why?’
‘I am human. Mostly.’
‘You are young still,’ she says, with some scorn. ‘Tell me how you acquired your power.’
‘My mother was a nurture demon. I didn't find out I was too until several years after...’ she trails off, looks away.
Illyria tilts her head.
‘You heal the sick, both with your powers and your profession. It is a waste of time.’
Cuddy laughs. ‘To care about people?’
‘To save them. This world has too many humans anyway,’ she mutters, but her voice lacks the conviction it once held.
‘So we should just stop trying?’
Illyria pauses, studies her. ‘You grieve as Wesley did. What for?’
She smiles humorlessly. ‘Humans.’
‘Certain humans.’
Cuddy nods but doesn’t answer.
‘Did you know her? Fred. The body I inhabit.’
She shakes her head. ‘No. I haven’t seen anyone in a long time.’
‘But Wesley. You were close.’
‘No, but I…’ she trails off, laughs softly. Then turns abruptly. ‘How?’
‘A demon called Vail. Wesley was suspended in the air and gutted with a knife. Such a simple, stupid weapon. So… deadly. I…’ Illyria hesitates. ‘I do not know how to mourn him.’
Cuddy reaches out and rests her hand on Illyria’s arm. If she’s surprised by the action, she doesn’t show it.
‘Remember him,’ Cuddy says.
Illyria barely nods.
--
michigan. night.
1981
A boy in the frat house overdoses and when she’s sure no one’s looking she heals him from the outside in.
She does it a month later for a girl on the lacrosse team with a broken leg, and two weeks after that for her roommate whose boyfriend punched her in the face. Everything discreet, everything excused.
It doesn’t take long for people to find her: demon clans, mystics, Wolfram and Hart. Angel finds her the day after she declines their offer.
‘You shouldn’t be walking around after dark,’ he says, steps from the shadows.
‘You-’ she whispers breathlessly, backs away into the light. ‘Don’t come near me.’ He recognizes her voice, her smell. He softens his tone.
‘I’m not going to hurt you.’ He steps into the light so she can see his face, free of sharp edges and fangs.
‘Get away from me.’
‘I just want to talk.’
‘Talk?’ She laughs breathlessly, anger and fear tangling together. Her eyes narrow. ‘You did a lot of that.’
‘Look, I’m not’ he steps forward too quickly, she jolts back. ‘I’m… You’re the girl, right? With the healing powers. I didn’t know it was you, I wouldn’t have come, if-’
‘If what?’ She snaps, backs away, never taking her eyes off him. ‘What do you want? Come to finish off the family?’
‘What? No, I - I’m not… evil. I have a soul. I tried to tell you-’
‘I’ll scream.’
He rolls his eyes. ‘As if that would do any good,’ he mutters. ‘Look. If I’d wanted to kill you, you’d be dead by now, okay?’
‘Cuddy.’
Her eyes don’t leave his face but his flicker to the side. There’s a man, tall and lanky watching them both with subdued interest. He leans against the lamppost nonchalantly.
‘If I’d have known it was a midnight rendezvous you were sneaking off to, I’d have let you go a little sooner.’
‘It’s not a rendezvous. I was trying to get back to my dorm; this guy just wanted to… talk.’
The guy frowns. ‘I don’t recognize you.’
Angel takes a step forward. ‘Prob’ly better that you don’t.’
‘Stop it.’
Her voice has just enough tremor in it to make them both freeze, look over at her. She swallows; he can hear her heart racing.
‘House. Would you mind walking me home?’ It’s a question, but her tone leaves little room for discussion.
The lines on his face deepen, somewhere between a frown and a scowl but he nods, pushes off the lamppost.
‘Come on.’
Angel slips back into the shadows, watches them go.
‘Who was that?’ he hears him ask.
‘I don’t know,’ she says, ‘Just some guy. Lost probably.’
House nods, but doesn’t miss the way she moves closer to him.
--
l.a. day.
present.
‘Afternoon, Cuddles.’
She doesn’t look up from the stack of papers she’s going through. ‘Spike.’
‘Whacha got there?’
‘New budget proposal from podiatry. They want a hundred thousand dollars to do more research on orthortic intervention. We just hired ten nurses so I have to tell them no.’
Spike wrinkles his nose. ‘You brought work with you? That’s a bit wrong.’ He flops down in the chair next to her and stares. The light from the small lamp illuminates her face, washes her out. She looks tired, but not vulnerable as he would have expected. Not scared.
‘How’re your dates with Miss God-King going?’
‘Fine,’ she mutters, flips through pages.
‘Well, you’re still in one piece so obviously she likes you-’
‘Can I help you with something?’ she asks sharply, still without glancing at him.
He gives her a look anyway. ‘Oh, come on. I haven’t done anything.’ She finally looks up, raises her eyebrows. ‘I’m not the one that ate your family.’ Then under his breath. ‘So you don’t have to be all pissy.’
She sighs heavily, puts her pen down. ‘You’re right.’
Spike frowns. ‘I am?’
‘I’m pretty sure you’re not used to hearing this but it’s… it’s not you.’
‘Is it Angel? I’m totally alright with it bein’ Angel.’
Cuddy almost laughs, shakes her head. ‘It’s not Angel.’
Spike sits down across from her. ‘But it is someone.’ She looks away. ‘Oh, come on. I do love a good gossip.’
‘I just…’ she hesitates. ‘I… I deal with numbers, with patients and crazy doctors and… budget reports. Not demon vanquishing and portal closing and-’
‘Vamps that gnawed on your Dad.’ She glares. ‘Sorry. Bad visual.’ There’s a long silence. Cuddy fingers the rubber band around her wrist and Spike fights with himself internally. Finally he sighs, annoyed. ‘Look. Angel’s got his soul for, what? ‘Bout a hundred years now, give or take. I got my soul about eight months ago. Angel spent - still spends, probably - the majority of those years mopin’ and eatin’ rats ‘cause he can't bear the thought of his Reign of Terror and whatnot. I got drunk as soon as possible and haven’t thought about it ever since. Well. Except that one time I got hacked up by that psycho slayer, but that's-’
‘Does this story have a point?’
‘I’m not sayin’ Angel’s better than me. ‘Cause he’s not. But if you wanna play the guilt card with him, don’t bother. He’s already got a full deck.’
--
night.
‘Stay down, stay hidden. You don’t make noise, you’re not seen. Watch. Don’t fight.’
Cuddy just glares her response.
‘Good.’
She watches, from the small hole she’s crouched in while they fight, demon after demon after demon that pour from a fizzing portal in midair. When there’s a slight lull, Angel stops fighting, pulls out a scroll and begins to yell Latin phrases; swords clank over the sound and he yells louder, repetitively, and then throws the scroll into the vacuum.
The remaining demons holler and grab their heads and in a flash of light that sends Cuddy reeling they’re all sucked into the now closed portal.
‘They crow their victory,’ Illyria says, suddenly at her side. ‘They think this battle means something.’ She turns sharply to Cuddy. ‘Their optimism makes me nauseous.’
Cuddy stands, brushes dirt from her clothes and watches as the two men approach.
‘That’s not optimism,’ she says. ‘It’s denial.’
‘So,’ Angel says, a quick grin on his face. ‘What’d ya think?’
Illyria looks from Angel to Cuddy and back again. ‘This mortal amuses me. We should keep her,’ she says before striding off.
Angel’s grin slowly slips. He looks at Cuddy. ‘What’d I do?’
--
The rest of the night they patrol the city, staying close to the sides of buildings. They make a half circle around her like a shell and she pretends not to notice. A voice cries out; they break into a run.
They round a corner and a man bumps into them, screaming and hurling himself away. ‘No, no please no don’t hurt me!’ Angel tries to calm him and Spike looks over his shoulder.
‘Looks like we’ve got company.’
Two demons, one vampire. Easy targets.
Cuddy touches the man’s arm; he quiets and stills. ‘We’re not going to hurt you.’
‘I will guard the mortal,’ Illyria says.
‘More bloodshed for us,’ Spike grins. He and Angel charge forward.
Cuddy and the man, now calm but whimpering step back into the shadows; Illyria stands between them and the fight, watching both scenes out of the corners of her eyes.
‘Who - who are you people? What’s going on?’
He has a deep bite mark on his neck, scratches all over his face and gashes in his side. She smiles at him.
‘I’m Lisa; I’m a doctor.’
Her voice alone calms his trembling. ‘But-but what are you doing here-what are those things?’
‘There have been some pretty strange things going on in L.A,’ she says calmly, cupping her palm over his neck; she smiles again. ‘As I’m sure you’ve noticed.’
‘Yeah, it’s been a little - ah!’ He cries out as she pulls the fabric away from his side. A large chuck of flesh is missing and he’s still bleeding out. ‘Ohgod,’ he breathes. ‘I’m gonna die. I’m gonna-’
‘You’ll be fine, I promise,’ she sooths.
Illyria tilts her head with interest at the way the humans interact. The clanking of swords draws her attention back to the fight. The vampire is gone but the demons are strong, not easily killed by swords. She continues to watch, but listens to the mortals’ conversation.
‘What’s your name?’ she asks, slowly and carefully moving her hands over the wound. It’s large, deep, requires more energy than she’s used to but she can feel him panicking; if he bolts he’ll die for sure and she knows no normal doctor could fix this wound in time.
‘A-Alex,’ he says, hisses as her fingers brush his skin. ‘What are you doing?’
‘What do you do, Alex? For a living?’
He frowns, grits his teeth but stutters, ‘I’m-I’m an investment banker.’
She smiles. ‘My uncle’s an investment banker. You like the work?’
‘Uh, sure. It’s fine.’ He glances over at the fight; one demon down, one to go. Illyria hasn’t moved. His eyes widen as the demon throws a punch that sends Angel twenty feet up the wall; he flinches hard as he crashes to the ground.
‘I-I think it just killed that guy!’
Cuddy doesn’t blink, doesn’t look away. She’s so tired but only half the wound is healed. ‘He’ll be fine,’ she whispers, moves her hands down. ‘Stop moving.’
He looks back at her, at her hands over the wound in his side. Most of the skin is healed and the scratches gone but it’s the hole that’s just so deep, caused so much damage.
‘How are you-’
‘You have any family, Alex?’ she asks in her caring, doctor voice. It’s quieter, though. She’s draining. Illyria takes a step closer to them, stops.
‘Uh, yeah, wife and two kids.’ He looks up again at the sound of a loud grunt, just in time to see Spike take his battleax to the demon’s neck. He stops just before landing a fatal blow to Angel’s back. His head falls, and the rest of him follows. He turns back at the sound of her voice.
‘There.’ Cuddy smiles gently at him. He can’t tell in the dark but her skin is almost white and her hands are shaking. Illyria steps closer, Spike and Angel just behind her.
‘You guys okay?’
‘I’m… yeah. What-how did you-?’ His attention is on Cuddy as they stand slowly; she holds the wall discreetly.
‘Uh… special lotion,’ she says awkwardly. Her voice is airy. ‘Works every time.’
‘Right,’ he says slowly, then, ‘Are you okay?’
‘I’m fine,’ she murmurs, over Angel’s,
‘Spike. Walk this guy home.’
‘Let’s go, chap. Make sure no more creatures of the night try to make a feast out of you.’
Alex nods slowly. ‘Sure…’ He looks back at Cuddy. ‘Thank you. For… whatever it is you did.’
She nods, straightens, steps away from the wall. ‘You’re welcome.’
Spike and Alex disappear; Angel steps closer to her. ‘Are you sure you’re alright?’
‘I uh…’ she laughs breathlessly. ‘I would really appreciate it if someone would catch me; I’m about to pass out.’
Illyria steps forward before Angel can move, cradles her body.
‘Careful.’
Illyria just looks at him.
‘You push her too hard,’ she says, walks away.
Angel sighs and follows.
*
part two