Disclaimer :: The characters herein are the property of their creators. I make no profit from their use.


:: Disposable ::

written by Starlet2367 { e-mail // livejournal }



She opened her eyes, startled awake by a sound. When she turned her head, a sharp throb on her temple made her wince.

Angel lay across from her, so close that she could see the stubble on his jaw line.

Cordelia blinked. Angel? In her room? She tensed and opened her mouth to yell for Dennis.

“He’s not here.”

She realized several things at once: she didn’t know where she was, she’d lost track of time, and Angel was holding her hand.

“Touching. With the hands!” She yanked away. Chains rattled and jerked her wrist with a painful snap.

“Ow,” Angel said, wincing.

“What the hell?” They were on a stained mattress pushed crookedly against a brick wall. An 18-inch chain looped through a ring in the brick, binding their hands above their heads.

“Yeah, we’re, uh, kind of chained together. I’ve been trying to wake you up for awhile.”

She propped herself up on her elbow. “Where the hell are we?” Her head throbbed as she changed position. “What happened to my head?”

His gaze locked on it. “Um, you were hit. It’s, um, bleeding?”

She wiped the blood off quickly and painted the side of the mattress with it. “Right. Don’t want to tempt you, do we?” It came out super snarky.

He looked hurt but didn’t say anything.

Then she realized one of her hands was free – the farthest one from Angel. “Is your outside hand free, too?”

He waggled his fingers at her.

“Then why are we still here?” She looked up at the ring. “Can’t you break the chain, or whatever?”

He shook his head. “Tried. They got our feet, too.”

She glanced down and saw another chain linking their feet together, like contestants in a three-legged race. “Well, this sucks.”

“Tell me about it.”

Cordelia eyeballed him. “Who got us?”

“Do you really want to know?”

Her eyebrows rose.

“Harmony wanted her stuff from your apartment, so she talked one of Doug’s guys into following you home. He was going to knock you out so she could get in –“


“Luckily I followed you back to your apartment.”

“Gee, stalker much?”

“After what happened earlier, I was worried. I didn’t count on Harmony jumping me from behind.” He rubbed his own head, looking sheepish. “She’s stronger than she looks.”

“Harmony!” Cordy yelled. “Get in here!” Her voice echoed through the room.

Angel sighed.

“I don’t suppose they gave you their grand plan on the trip over?”

“Hey, I was unconscious. The best I can figure is they’re still carrying out Doug’s multi-level marketing scheme. We’re the start of their new blood bank.” He glanced at her bleeding forehead. “Or, you are. I’m probably just a trophy.”

“I’ll have your head as a trophy if you don’t figure out how to get us out of this,” she snapped.

“Technically, that’s not possible. My head would – er.” He looked down. “Right. So, the best I can figure is that if you kind of angled across the mattress, I could maybe get on top of you and—“

“Stop right there, bub.” She did a “talk to the hand” motion. “There will be no climbing on top of anyone.”

He sighed again and looked at the ceiling.

Cordy squinted into the shadows, trying to figure out where they were. Then she realized the light leaking through the windows was red and that they were probably in some room above the old theater. A storage room, maybe? It would explain the mattress and the room’s large size.

God, Harmony had no imagination.

“The good news is that they probably won’t be back for awhile. And when they do come back we can take the opportunity to—“

His voice droned.

She closed her eyes. “I hate my life.”

His voice cut off.

Cordy hadn’t realized she’d said it out loud. But it felt good, so she said it again. “I hate my life.” She looked at him. “You know why?”

Angel made a sad face. “I can guess.”

“No, Angel, you can’t. You know why you can’t? Because you left.”

“Cordy – I’m sorry – I –“

“You don’t get to talk.” She closed her eyes again and listened to him pretend to breathe.


“Cordelia. Wake up.”

She jerked awake. “I’m not sleeping. I’m just resting my eyes.”

He looked over his shoulder. “I think there’s someone coming.”

“What? I don’t hear –“ There were footsteps outside the door. She sat up, the better to yell. “Harmony! Get your skanky ass in here!”

A door opened, sending a crack of light across the floor. “Shut up, Cordelia. I don’t have to listen to you any more. You’re not my friend.” The door closed then opened again a few seconds later. “And I got my stuff, so there.” The door slammed and the footsteps receded.

“Harmony! Harmony!” She got pissed and started screaming and yanking on the chains. “Let me out of here! Let me out of here, now, so I can stake you!”

“Cordelia. Cordelia!” Angel rolled onto his side and put his hand on her shoulder. “Stop. She’s not coming back. You’re just making yourself upset.”

She panted; sweat plastered her hair to her temples. Her head hurt and now so did her wrist. She smelled blood and sweat, copper and salt.

“We’ll get out. I’ll get us out.” He reached up with his free hand and brushed her hair off her face.

She pulled back. “Don’t.”

“You can’t be mad at me forever.”

“Yes, I can.”

He settled back on the mattress and looked at the ceiling. “I’m sorry about…everything.”

She sighed, breath shuddering out, and lay down next to him. Their shoulders brushed but she was too tired to move away. It was familiar and comforting but she didn’t really want to think about that.

“Let’s just get out of here.”

“I’ve got an idea. Can you sit up?” he asked.

They both struggled till they were sitting upright.

“Scoot down the bed as far as you can.”

Cordy and Angel shimmied down until the chain pulled taut. Arm extended behind her, she leaned forward so he could reach the chain on their feet.

But the link serving the chain was in the floor, under the mattress. She let out a frustrated grunt as they scooted back and lay down again.

“Did you try yanking it?”

He shook his head. “I can’t, without hurting you.”

“Well, try anyway.”

“Cordelia –“

“Angel, we don’t have any choice. And I’d rather have a broken wrist than let Harmony win.”

“It won’t matter because I can’t get any leverage with one arm, anyway.”

She looked down at her feet, manacled to the floor. In a little while, she’d get hungry or she’d have to pee. There was no way she was peeing in front of Angel.

“Fine. Do what you have to do.” Then a thought hit her. “Oh! We’re so stupid. Our cell phones.” She started patting her pants pockets.

“They took them. I checked earlier. For mine! Not for yours. I didn’t--”

She blew out her breath.

Angel put on his “I’m in control” face and turned toward her. “Look, if this is going to work, I need to get on my belly. If I can wrap my hands around both sides of the chain and pull hard enough, I think I can dislodge the ring.”

She started figuring angles in her head. “Okay, so you’ll need to be right under the chain.” Cordy slid toward him. Her hand hung limp; it was going numb from the lack of circulation.

“You ready?” He looked apprehensive.

She nodded and tried not to think about the next few minutes, which would either be really embarrassing or really painful, or an appetizing combo of both.

“I’ll try not to hurt you.”

“Too late,” she said.

But he was looking up at the ring, lining up his hands. Then, in a fluid movement, he rolled on top of her.

She gasped and went still.

He settled into the vee of her legs. Their shoulders, chins and foreheads lined up. His mouth was inches away from hers; she could feel his breath on her lips.

Angel cleared his throat and looked up at the corner of the room. “Um – Is this –“

She smelled the faint musk of his sweat. She counted his eyelashes. She hated him for leaving her. He felt really good between her legs.

“Do it,” she rasped.

He snapped out of his reverie, put all his weight on her, and worked his hands until he got both of them wrapped around the chain.

God, he was heavy. And solid. She could feel his thigh muscles and the soft little pooch of his belly, overlying his marble-smooth abs. Even as her brain was screaming, “You hate him!” and “Awkward! Angel’s on top of you!” her body was starting to have a mind of its own.

He pulled, not a sudden yank, but a slowly increasing exertion of pressure. Even though he was trying to minimize the effect on her, the harder he pulled, the more the side of his fist ground into the top of her hand.

She bit her lip, waiting for it to stop, until it got so bad she said, “Stop!”

The chain went slack. He looked down at her. “You okay?”

“No, it hurts.”

He frowned. “Why didn’t you say something?”

“Because I hoped we were getting somewhere.”

He glanced back up. “We are. I think.”

“You think?”

“I won’t try any more if you—“

“Oh, stop treating me like I’m glass.”

“Fine.” He sounded miffed. When he put his hands up above his head this time, he wasn’t gentle.

It was like he meant to grind his hips and press his chest against her breasts. A rush of heat quivered up her belly. She concentrated on not raising her knees, on not letting her hips undulate.

The pain in her wrist went from aching to white-hot.

The ring shifted. Mortar wafted down on Cordy’s head. She turned her face away and closed her eyes.

Angel shifted again, anchoring his hips in hers and pulling on the chain until he was grunting with exertion.

With a shriek, the ring came free. He fell forward and caught himself on his free hand. Their chained hands dropped to the mattress.

Cordy exhaled.

Angel’s head rested in the crook of her neck, his nose under her ear. Then, as if he realized what he’d been doing, he stiffened, rolled off of her and lay on his back, panting.

She could smell copper and salt. Her body tingled as blood rushed back in; her heart pounded now that it was free.

In a moment, Angel knelt at the end of the mattress and yanked the chain from the floor. He helped her stand and, like a chain-dragging Frankenstein, they shuffled to the door.

The hall was empty so they snuck out the fire escape.


“You need to un-invite Harmony,” Angel said, as they entered Cordelia’s apartment.

“That’s the second thing on my list, after getting out of these chains.” They limped to the hall closet, where she kept a toolbox. “I’ve got bolt cutters.”

His brows rose. “Since when?”

“Um, since your toolbox wasn’t available?” She grabbed the oversized pliers from the box and handed them to him. “We moved on.”

Angel snipped through the chains and they hit the floor with a clank.

“Thank God,” said Cordy. “I thought we were stuck with each other forever.” She rubbed her wrists and remembered his hands. “Your hands still bleeding?”

He put his hands behind his back. “No, they’re fine.”

“Right.” She walked toward the kitchen, looking over her shoulder. “I’ll fix them up. Then you have to go kill Harmony and that other guy.”

She sat him down in a kitchen chair and asked Dennis to bring her medical kit. It floated in to her and landed on the table.

Cordy picked up Angel’s hand, raw from tangling with the chain, and cleaned it. She wiped an alcohol-soaked cotton ball down each finger and over the knuckles. When she slipped it between his fingers he shuddered.

She looked up from under her lashes.

He was waiting to be forgiven. She wasn't sure she could do that yet. But maybe she could give him the key. “You want to be my friend again?”

Angel nodded, a wild, desperate look in his eyes. “Yes, please. Just tell me how.”

“Prove that you care. Actions speak louder than words.” What she meant was, never leave me again, you bastard. But she knew he couldn’t promise that.

He was a vampire. It was against his nature to promise anything but betrayal. Soul or no soul, you couldn’t fight nature.

She’d never forget that again, even if she did forgive him. She stuck a band-aid over the worst cuts on his palms then laid his hands gently on the table.

His head was bowed. He stared at his hands. “I don’t deserve you.”

“No, you don’t.” She repacked the medical kit and put it aside.

He stood, his bulk blocking the light and casting a shadow on her face. “Thanks.”

The hope in his smile was like a stake hitting its target. She knew now what it meant to turn to dust, to dissolve into the air around you.

“Stay.” Before he could react, she blurted out the first thing that came to mind. “I need help with the spell. For Harmony.”

He nodded. Then he turned toward the living room, where she kept her modest library of spell books.

“Angel.” She put her hand on his arm.

He turned to look at her.

“Don’t ever treat me like I’m disposable again.” Dust reformed as steel and thrust like a sword.

He dropped his defenses, his shoulders hunching. He stepped aside so she could pass and when she did, their bodies brushed.

She felt safe with him behind her, with his big, cool bulk on her six. Her Angel was back. She didn’t want to think about how right it was. How much she’d missed him.

That mean, cold thing was gone – that thing she still had nightmares about.

She couldn’t forgive him completely yet; that was survival. But she could move forward; that was hope.


Thanks for the edits, Laurie and Christie! I tweaked the line to make it clearer. On your six is military for "directly behind you" or "guarding your back."

Challenge: Based on Luckylyn’s challenge: This challenge should take place in Season 2 after Epiphany with Cordy still angry with Angel and determined to keep things on a business level between them. Meanwhile Angel is desperate to win her back. They've started to realize they have feelings for each other and aren't dealing with it. Somehow while working on a case Angel and Cordy get trapped handcuffed to a bed and are forced to deal with their issues. Smut is optional.