Escape

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Summary: Angel loses his soul to Darla and they take Cordelia captive. She's to be their new Drusilla.

AUTHOR: Laure Alexander
EMAIL: lara@sunflower.com
RATING: R, aftermath of beatings and rape
PAIRINGS: Darla/Angelus/Cordelia
DISCLAIMER: I don't own Buffy the Vampire Slayer or any of the characters on the show. Joss Whedon and the WB Network own them (for now). No copyright infringement intended, so please don't sue.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: My response to the Cordelia Ficathon for LyraJane who wanted Cordy/Angelus/Darla, shippy, darkdarkdark, and a mention of Cordy's acting abilities.
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She cowers in a corner, trying not to listen to the sounds coming from the bed. Arms wrapped around her head, she silently cries for the pain in her body, for all she has lost.

He grunts loudly, a sound of satisfaction and satiation. The headboard bangs hard against the wall, and a lusty feminine cry joins his. As the sounds die away, leaving only those of bodies shifting on the bed, she silently prays they'll leave her alone.

She knows it's a futile prayer.

As a light foot falls on the carpeted floor, she whimpers and presses herself harder against the wall, trying to hide in the ugly wallpaper and shadows.

And now prays for escape.

Also futile.

~~~~~

Cordelia hummed to herself as she turned off her computer and reached for her purse. It had been a successful day at their still unnamed detective agency, and she had money to deposit in the bank to prove it. Rising to her feet, she turned off the light and pulled her keys from her purse. The door opened, the muted bell clanking, and she frowned. Her stomach rumbled from hunger and she'd hoped to have time to get to the nearest bagel place before acting class.

Looking up, she was prepared to ask the person to come back the next day when the office was open, but her words died on her lips.

"Angel?"

The slow smirk that crossed his face, the sight of cliched but tight, black leather pants, sent her stomach into her throat and she clutched her keys defensively. Fear flooded her, boosting her adrenaline, and she calculated the distance to the door and the odds of escape.

They weren't good.

"What do you want?" she blustered, her voice firm and cold, while inside she screamed for help.

"Pretty, pretty Cordelia," he crooned, taking another step into the office. "How the mighty have fallen."

"We're doing fine for ourselves...without you." Casually she dipped her free hand into her large purse, fishing it around.

Another step forward forced her back one, out of his reach if he leaned across the desk. He placed his hands on the cheap wood and sneered.

"Guess what happened last night, Cordy?"

She swallowed hard, pain and loss gripping her throat as she looked into his empty, dark eyes. "I don't need to guess." Pulling out a cross, she thrust it at him. "Get out, Angelus."

He laughed, and as he did so, the sound ringing through the small space, Cordelia heard another sound behind her. As she spun, something hit the back of her head, and everything went dark.

*****

Her head throbbed--that was her first coherent thought on returning to consciousness. Lifting a shaking hand to the back of her head, she felt the dried, sticky blood, and softly moaned.

Cordelia forced her eyes open and stared down at the dingy carpeting she lay upon. As she did so, a slender, naked foot appeared before her, and she lifted her head, gritting her teeth against the pain.

Eyes widening in shock, she stared up at Darla who was swathed only in a pale blue silk chemise, the lace barely covering her nipples. The blonde vampire dropped gracefully into a crouch, and Cordelia blushed when she saw she wasn't wearing anything beneath the scrap of silk.

"So, you're his latest obsession," the blonde murmured, reaching out one hand and brushing it over Cordelia's hot cheek. "Pretty, I suppose, brunette, from a good family...and there are the visions." A smile crossed her face, but came nowhere near her ice blue eyes. "Guess what, dearie. You get to be the new Drusilla."

Cordelia gaped at her, then tried to scramble backwards, only to find herself dragged to her feet and flung across the room. Bouncing off the bed, she crumpled to her hands and knees, gasping in pain and terror. She tried to crawl away, but Darla stopped her easily with a foot to the small of her back. The pain in Cordelia's head fled, replaced instantly by a sharp burst of agony along her spine, and she whimpered helplessly.

"Careful, love," came his voice from the doorway. "We don't want to break her."

"I'm just playing," Darla pouted, dragging her foot down over Cordelia's bottom and finding the hem of her short skirt. At the touch of a toe on her bare thigh, the brunette cried out and scrambled away.

"Get the fuck away from me, you psycho!"

Angelus chuckled, drawing Cordelia's eyes as she pushed her way to her feet, out of Darla's reach.

"Spirited, too," Darla commented, tapping one finger against her chin. "That's of no use to us."

"Okay, you can break her of that," Angelus agreed, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning back against the wall. "You used to be really good at that."

Sending him a smug grin, Darla glided across the room towards Cordelia, who was backing towards the balcony doors. "Oh, I'm still good at that, darling. Find me something to play with. You must have some toys around here somewhere. Your souled self was obviously into self-flagellation."

As Angelus moved to the dresser, Cordelia, looking for any way to escape, flung herself at the closed glass doors, only to find them bolted at the top and bottom. Before she could free the locks, Darla was on her, dragging her to the bed, ripping at her shirt. Cordelia struggled, hitting and scratching, but her strength was negligent compared to that of the female vampire, who only laughed and pinned the young woman on her stomach on the bed.

At the clink of metal, Cordelia looked up sharply and saw Angelus attaching thick iron chains and manacles to the bed posts. A moan broke from her and she squirmed, desperately trying to get free. Her anger was again supplanted by terror, and finally, as Angelus grabbed her wrist and clamped a cuff around it, the tears began to fall.

Crouched over the brunette's back, Darla leaned down and whispered, "As long as you can cry, you're still sane, little girl. Want to bet how long before the tears dry up completely?"

"Please." The plea broke from Cordelia against her will, as tears streamed hotly down her cheeks. Her other wrist was chained, then hard, rough hands found her ankles and yanked her legs apart. "Please, don't..."

Darla's cruel hands ripped away the skirt and top and shredded her undergarments, baring her to their cold eyes, and Cordelia began to sob.

Chained, helpless, terrified, all she could do was try to survive until she found a way to escape.

*****

On the third night, Angelus woke her with hungry kisses, his mouth hard and insistent against hers. Cordelia struggled feebly in surprise, but she was weakened from hunger and pain. As he rolled her onto her back on her pallet at the foot of the bed, she whimpered and arched off the floor, seemingly in desire. He growled lustily, and she forced down a cry of pain from the mass of welts on her back from a dozen beatings inflicted by Darla. Several of them were raw, more were nearly black. The pain was nearly unbearable.

After the first horrible beating, Cordelia had decided that dealing with Angelus was much more preferable to sadistic Darla. When his hands were on her, mentally she could slip away, ignore what he was doing to her body. It didn't hurt all that much, and she could deal with the emotional torment and fear. She could even pretend to enjoy his body taking hers.

During that first brutal beating with Angelus' belt, Cordelia had broken down, sobbing and pleading, unable to stop herself, unable to act like it didn't matter. Darla had mocked her, called her a terrible actress, letting her know that Angelus had told her everything about their new plaything. Angelus had added his own allusions to her acting ability, tearing her down as he had done the year before.

But she'd improved and, like most men, he was too caught up in her apparent desire for him to realize she was putting on the show of her life.

Somehow she'd use that. All she had to do was get him to let down his guard and she'd be free.

Thoughts of escape were all that kept her going.

*****

On the sixth night, Angelus brought her a present, one that left her screaming and shaking and, for the first time, praying for death.

He shoved the heads of Wesley and Gunn onto the posts of the bed and grinned down at her as she curled into a ball.

"No rescue, I'm afraid."

"Oh god, oh god, oh god."

"No help from him, either."

*****

Eventually, Cordelia gave up on thoughts of escape, of freedom. The fear faded, and she learned to accept the pain and suffering of her body, the meager amounts of food they fed her, her filthy skin and hair, the sex both forced upon her and that which she listened to nightly.

When Darla broke off from beating her with a leather flogger and used the hasp to rape her, all she did was stare blankly at the closed glass doors from where she hung from chains in the middle of the room.

In disgust at her lack of reaction, Darla unchained her and kicked her to a corner, then joined Angelus on the bed.

"She's becoming boring," the blonde pouted as she straddled her lover's nude body.

"She's nearly there, love." Large hands wrapping around her small breasts, he yanked her down and buried his mouth in her throat, making her scream in delight.

~~~~~

She looks up from dull, empty eyes, and sees Darla standing above her, her pale body luminescent in the golden glow of the one lamp. The vampiress drops to one knee and wraps a hand around the back of Cordelia's neck, lifting her head up and forcing her body with it.

"You don't cry anymore," she says softly. "Do you remember what I said would happen when the tears dried up?"

Cordelia blinks, a blank expression on her face, and Darla snickers and morphs into the vampire. Swooping down, she bites, severing the jugular vein and drinking deeply.

As her blood spills and pain floods her, the vision swamps her. Cordelia sees herself--a vampire, evil, cold, demented. She's killing children, ripping their bodies apart and bathing in their blood. She's in bed with Angelus and Darla, laughing gaily as the bite and feed and fuck until the bedroom is splattered with ichor and their bodies are limp and sated.

And she sees Los Angeles burning and the threesome taking their rightful places as rulers of the City of Angels.

Weeping tearlessly, Cordelia tastes cold blood on her lips and willingly drinks.

And, finally, she escapes.

End