Go TeamC/A
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Part 6: Amateur Detective Skulking around cemeteries for the better part of six years should mean that you don’t get spooked easily. But Buffy was. Spooked that is. It was three in the morning and she was in the Hyperion lobby and it was dark and she was alone and the place was really big and hell, it looked haunted during the DAYTIME so yeah, she was a little spooked. She knew she should be asleep in the room she was sharing with Dawn, but the whole sleep thing just wasn’t working for her. The baby had been crying in the room down the hall for the past ten minutes and she was in a strange bed and…Okay, a small, very twisted part of me misses Spike. It was weird, cause it wasn’t like she was horny and she missed sex with Spike (all though she wouldn’t turn it down right now if it was offered). I just miss HIM. Talking to him, knocking him around a little. It was very disturbing to realize just how large a part of her life Spike had become. How not a day went by without seeing him. Oh lord, I came here to forget about Spike, not wander around thinking about him. Buffy decided to do some subtle snooping, for distraction.
She walked over to where the desks were and saw a picture of her in a silver frame. It was one with Xander and Willow when they were at the Bronze—it looked like senior year of high school. Angel has a picture of me on his desk. That has to mean something right? The thought warmed her for a second, until she realized that she didn’t remember posing for Angel. In fact the idea of Angel walking around Sunnydale with a camera seemed a little ridiculous. So then… Buffy looked down at the desk the picture rested on. The presence of a bottle of perfume and a computer meant that the picture and the desk weren’t Angel’s, they were Cordelia’s. Buffy really didn’t want to think about why Cordy had pictures of the Scoobies on her desk. Didn’t she hate all of us?
Even the desk spoke of how much Cordelia had changed. There was a Parents magazine tucked in between Cosmos. There was a schedule for a Mommy and Me swim class lying on the chair. It was very disconcerting, so Buffy walked over to the other desk.
This was Angel’s. It was relatively bare. There was a pad of paper, a few pens, and a book of short stories by Edgar Allen Poe. Ahhh, that’s my stuffy 250-year-old boyfriend. But looking closer, Buffy saw other things. There was a Sony Discman that had a piece of tape that said GUNN on it. There was a bottle of OPI nail polish in “chick flick cherry” that Buffy prayed was Cordelia’s. It was sitting on top of a post-it from Wes, saying that Angel still owed him for those Laker tickets. And the calendar on the right hand corner of the desk had “Fred’s B-day” written on it, with a red circle around the date.
It was so strange, seeing that other people existed for Angel now; once she was his entire world. Buffy looked around the empty room, to make sure no one was coming, and then opened the top desk drawer. There wasn’t much in there. There was a musty smelling book an ancient demon rituals. An invoice. Two pacifiers. And a piece of paper, no it was a picture, lying face down. Buffy picked it up and turned it over and stopped breathing.
It was of Angel and Cordelia with Connor. Neither of them had been looking at the camera—they clearly hadn’t known they were having their picture taken. Cordelia was sitting on the couch in what must be her apartment. Her hair was longer and less blond—put up in a messy ponytail—and the red sweatshirt she wore had a stain on the upper right corner. The baby was asleep in her arms with this peaceful blissed out expression on his face. Angel was crouching on his knees behind the couch. One arm was around Cordy’s shoulder while the other reached toward Connor. Cordelia’s head was arched back and she was shooting a huge smile at Angel. Angel was also smiling, a small secret smile, as he looked down, tilting his head toward her.
Buffy didn’t know what this picture meant. She didn’t like the things that it could mean. She didn’t like that Angel kept the picture in his drawer. Maybe, maybe he doesn’t have that many pictures of Connor. Maybe this is the only picture he has and Cordelia just happens to be in it. Why couldn’t the guy just have taken his son to the portrait studio at Sears, if he was so hard up for pictures? Buffy acknowledged that reason and rationality were clearing running scarce, then she did something even more irrational. She stuffed the picture into her back pocket. She didn’t know why but she couldn’t stop herself from doing it.
“Buffy.”
It was Angel’s voice. Wasn’t she supposed to be able to sense when vampires were approaching? She quickly turned her head towards the sound of his voice. He was slowly coming out of the shadows with a wiggling Connor in his arms. “What are you doing up so late?” he asked as he walked over to the kitchen.
“Three in the morning really isn’t all that late,” Buffy said as she followed him into the kitchen and watched him take a frozen pacifier out of the fridge.
“Well I don’t know if I agree with you, but Connor certainly does.”
“I should be more tired, I guess. It’s hard to relax and go to sleep if I haven’t patrolled.”
Angel didn’t say anything and for a minute Buffy just watched him with the baby. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to that. “It’s weird,” she commented. “I mean, it’s not bad weird, but it is different, to see you with him, like that. Makes me wonder what happened to my brooding tai-chi-doing boyfriend.”
Angel’s hand stilled on Connor’s back when he noted that Buffy had used the word boyfriend and it had a disturbingly “present tense” feel to it. Buffy didn’t notice it, but she did notice how Angel kept looking around the hotel nervously. “Angel, it’s okay, I understand exactly how you feel, because I feel it too,” she said soothingly, hoping to make him less nervous. Angel merely shot a confused look in her direction so Buffy went on. “Being together again, its bound to be a little strange. All those old feelings coming rushing back again, it’s bound to be a little…disconcerting.”
Angel was definitely disconcerted. What the hell is Buffy talking about? And since when am I still her boyfriend? Angel wasn’t nervous because he was alone with Buffy. He was nervous because if he didn’t head back upstairs soon, Cordy would start to wonder what had happened and then she would come downstairs and…We have a hard enough time justifying it to ourselves when Cordelia spends the night, I doubt trying to make Buffy understand would make it any easier.
“Buffy, look, I—”. There was a sudden noise and Angel and Buffy both turned to see Cordelia quietly walking down the stairs. She stopped when she caught both pairs of eyes on her.
Cordelia immediately noted the suspicious way Buffy’s eyes roamed over her and inwardly cringed. Why did I get out of bed? Why? She looked at Angel and saw the whole “deer caught in the headlights” thing he had going and this time she gritted her teeth. So, he must REALLY not want Buffy to know that Cordelia had been upstairs with him. Oh, cause the idea of me and Angel in bed together, that’s what, like too horrific to contemplate? Okay, fine. I’ll rescue him. Don’t want to cause any problems for the star-crossed lovers, now would I?
Cordelia called on the inner soap-opera-star. “Wow, I didn’t think it would be so crowded down here at almost four in the morning. I, uh, fell asleep in Fred’s room. We stayed up late doing that thing where girls just lay there and talk, you know—”
“Girl talk?” Buffy offered.
“Yeah, exactly. So I must have fallen asleep. And then I just woke up cause I was, um, thirsty, so I called out to Dennis to bring me a glass of water and that’s when I realized that I wasn’t at home.” Nice job, Cordy. I threw in a few extra details, did the whole ‘I’m confused cause I just woke up thing.’ Man, I so deserve an Emmy. Or at least a People’s Choice Award. “So,” she said glaring at Angel, “I’ll just get my purse and be on my way.” No one spoke again until she reached the bottom of the stairs.
“Wow Cordy,” Buffy said, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this way before. All messy…and tired looking.” Cordelia bit back a retort and walked over to her desk. But Buffy wasn’t going to let this one go. “Seriously Angel, look at her. Does Cordelia remind you at all of the fashionista she was in high school?”
Cordelia waited a split second for Angel to put the baby down and knock Buffy the fuck out, but then she remembered that would only happen in a perfect world. The world she lived in: clearly not perfect, since Angel apparently didn’t feel the need to defend her at all.
Angel noted the way Cordelia had flinched at Buffy’s words. He was angry that his seer was hurting and he was confused as to why Buffy was saying those things. But most of all, he didn’t know what to say. Who to support. Finally he just quietly said, “She’s nothing like she was then.” Cordelia bit her lip and shook her head slightly. It was nice, but a thinly veiled compliment that Buffy wouldn’t understand at all was not the kind of back up Cordelia had been looking for.
“I know Angel,” Buffy agreed. “I don’t think the old Cordelia even owned a sweatshirt. I guess someone finally found the softer side of Sears herself.”
Cordelia guessed that somewhere, deep down, she probably deserved a comment like that. After all she had never been a saint, even now. But it still hurt. She hated that Buffy made her feel ashamed of who she had been AND who she was now. She hated being put down in front of her best friend and getting no visible reaction. In that moment, Cordelia hated Buffy and Angel. Just get out of here. No good can come from prolonging this. Just leave.
“Well, as fun as this is, it’s late. I’ll see you three tomorrow.” Cordy shot a final glare at Angel, yanked open the door, and walked out…only to immediately walk back in backwards.
“Are you coming or going Cordelia, make up your mind,” Buffy said, before she saw the reason Cordy had walked back inside. There, in the door of the Hyperion, in the middle of L.A., where Buffy had fled to get away from Spike, was…Spike. She froze.
Angel however, reacted immediately. He grabbed Cordelia, yanked her behind him, thrust her the baby, and put on his game face, all in about three seconds.
Buffy shook off the shock and went to stand in front of Spike. “What the hell are you doing here?” she yelled. Angel turned to look at Buffy. The way she yelled at Spike, that’s not how you yelled at your enemy. That’s how you yell at exasperating, frustrating people that you happen to almost love. Angel knew, cause that’s how he yelled at Cordy.
“Wait, so you’re the one who leaves town, lies about where you’re going, and I’M the one who is getting screamed at,” Spike said.
“It’s none of your business where I go and who I go to see.”
“Clearly you were concerned about what I’d think, otherwise why’d you go and lie about it,” Spike shot back. “Why did you think you couldn’t tell me that you’d come here, to see him,” he sneered, gesturing to Angel. Angel growled lowly, but didn’t speak.
“I didn’t tell you cause I knew you’d show up here. And I don’t want you here. I don’t want you anywhere near me.”
“Oh really,” Spike drawled reaching for his cigarettes. “That’s not what you sa—”
“Hey, sorry to interrupt,” Cordy said stepping out from behind Angel before he could stop her. “Not to interfere with the whole lovers quarrel your doing but smoking is like such a big no-no here. You know, with the baby and all.” Spike didn’t seem to pick up on the baby reference but he did put the cigarettes away before turning back to Buffy.
“Listen love.”
“Don’t call me that. Why are you here, why did you come here?” Buffy said angrily.
Angel decided the time had come to speak up. He didn’t know what was going on between Buffy and Spike and he didn’t want to. He just wanted Spike out and Cordelia and Connor back upstairs in his bed. “Spike, I for one don’t care why you are here. I just want you gone.”
“Ahhh, I’m wounded. This is how you are greeting family these days.” Trying to lesson the tension, Spike turned to Cordelia. “Cheerleader. Like the new look. It says ‘I’m casual, yet still cuddly’.” Cordelia smiled before she could stop herself and Angel growled again, this time loud enough for everyone to hear. “Oh chill, ya giant poof. Didn’t the Scoobs tell you? I’m chipped. Can’t harm the walking Happy Meals. I fight the evil now, you know, all the stuff that goes bump in the night? I’m on your team now. Ask Buffy.”
“I don’t need to ask Buffy anything. I know that I want you out of here and away from my family. Chip or no chip, I don’t trust you.”
For some reason, Buffy was slightly annoyed with Angel’s tone. I mean, I don’t want Spike here either, but I should handle throwing him out. And Angel didn’t have to be so mean. She was also slightly annoyed at the vague flirtation Spike had thrown towards Cordelia. “Spike, we’ll talk about this when we get back to Sunnydale. You should go home now.”
“I’m not going anywhere. Don’t think I don’t know what you’re trying to do by coming here Slayer. I know you.”
“No. You don’t. You don’t know me at all.”
“I’m not leaving until we talk about this.”
“I am so not talking to you now Spike.”
“Fine. Than Angel, I’d like a room for the weekend. Smoking of course, preferably a queen sized bed.”
“You’re not staying here,” Angel and Buffy said at the exact same time. The two of them and Spike now stood very close together right in front of the door. All of the sudden, Angel’s head shot up. Cause if he wasn’t mistaken, he smelled something on Buffy and he smelled the same thing on Spike. Sex. They were having sex. Presumably with each other. Angel tried to process this while Spike and Buffy had a staring contest, until, finally, a voice of reason was heard.
“Oh that’s it. It’s four in the morning. I’m tired. I want to go home. I can’t go home knowing that Connor is going to have to listen to you three fight all night. So here’s what’s going to happen. Spike, you can’t stay here. You tortured Angel the last time you came to town. Your record with us is not good. However, since daylight is fast approaching, I’m going to be a total idiot and let you come stay with me.”
“Spike is not staying with you,” Angel said, putting his hands on Cordelia’s shoulders.
“You are not staying with Cordelia,” Buffy said, grabbing Spike by the collar.
Cordy ignored the large vampire in front of her and quirked her eyebrow at Spike. “Well, it’s up to you.”
Spike detangled Buffy’s fingers from his shirt and nodded. He didn’t know why the chit was being so…nice. Not just the fact that she was being nice to him, but the fact that she was being nice at all. He remembered her being somewhat…less nice. “Thanks for the hospitality cheerleader.”
The fact that Cordelia had invited Spike for a sleepover and the fact that Spike had accepted seemingly shocked Angel and Buffy into a stupor. They stood there silently as Cordy handed Connor to Angel and Spike picked her purse off the floor and carried it for her. When they reached the door, Spike mumbled “So, the baby. I gather that’s not a late night snack, is it?” Cordy just shook her head tiredly, saying, “I’ll explain later.” And then they were gone.
Angel and Buffy continued to silently stare at the door for several minutes. Finally Angel said, “He better not hurt her.”
Buffy sighed and walked toward the stairs. “He won’t hurt her. He can’t.”
“Buffy, if he does hurt her, I will have to kill him. You know that, right?” Buffy simply nodded and walked upstairs.
Part 7: Just PeachyWhen Cordelia woke up, it was noon. Sunlight streamed through the shades on her window, but that wasn’t what had roused her from sleep. Spike was talking to someone in the living room. She got out of bed and moved closer to the door, trying to figure out who else was in her apartment.
“No, evil Charity, don’t kill lil’ Timmy,” she heard Spike yell and giggled quietly to herself, realizing he was talking to the television. Poor Dennis, he hates “Passions”. Confident that she didn’t have any uninvited guests, Cordy shrugged out of the t-shirt she had slept in and jumped in the shower.
How odd is it that I hear Spike yelling at a soap opera outside my bedroom and I am totally cool with it? It’s so weird. Me and Spike. I think we might be becoming friends. Lord. She and Spike had gotten along rather well since leaving the Hyperion in the early morning hours. How weird had that been? Cordelia still had no idea exactly why she had even offered Spike a place to stay. Her experiences with him hadn’t been altogether pleasant. And yet last night, his presence had been nice; comforting even. She had made fun of the De Soto, Spike made the appropriate shocked noises as Cordelia told the story of Darla’s return and demise. He accepted Connor’s presence with a typically Spike attitude, remarkably blasé considering the circumstances. By the time they reached her apartment, she was too tired to do much more than introduce him to Dennis and toss a pillow on the couch for him.
*
In the living room, Spike heard the shower come on and realized Cordelia was up. She seemed like a totally different person than the girl he had known—oops, strike that, the girl he hadn’t really known at all back in Sunnydale. She had taken him home with her, gave him all the gossip in between yawns, and even offered to heat up a cup of blood for him. Why a 21-year-old girl has pig’s blood in her fridge is beyond me. Looking around the living room with a more detailed eye, Spike noticed a few other things that seemed out of place in a young single girl’s apartment. There was a collapsible bassinet lying against the wall near the door. He had come across tons of books last night on raising babies (along with a surprisingly enjoyable collection of trashy romance novels). Plus, there were pictures everywhere. A number of Wesley and Gunn, one or two from the Hellmouth, but most of them were of Connor. Actually most of them were Angel and Connor. “Christ, Peaches is all over this apartment,” Spike mumbled to himself.
Right then Cordy walked out of her bedroom in a short white terrycloth robe, toweling off her hair. “You even smell like him,” Spike said.
“I smell like who?” Cordelia asked.
“Peaches.”
“Excuse me, I don’t use some 99 cent Suave-like fruity shampoo. This is Bumble and Bumble my friend. It is an intense conditioning and moisturizing formula with extracts from all sorts of stuff, none of which are peaches.”
“Not peaches the fruit. Peaches. As in Angel…the fruit,” Spike said, smirking.
For some reason, the comment threw Cordelia. She didn’t smell Angel on herself. She would know if she smelled like Angel. Smelling like Angel, would that be a good thing or a bad thing?
“You don’t know whether to deny it or be proud of it.”
“Shut up Spike. I don’t know what you are talking about. I don’t smell like peaches or like Angel. I just took a shower. I smell like Irish Spring.”
“No you smell like a certain Irish man.”
Cordelia huffed and gave up, walking into the kitchen to start coffee. Spike wasn’t going to let her win this one so it was better to just quit fighting. She knew. He was acting just like her.
“Cheerleader, I’ll take you up on that offer of blood now,” Spike said following her into the kitchen.
As she tossed a bag of blood into the microwave with a shocking degree of unconcern, Spike added, “And then we can sit down and have a nice long talk about you and my grand-sire.”
“What about us?” Cordelia asked, not looking up from the coffeemaker.
“The fact that you two are an ‘us’. You like him. No, don’t try to deny it. I’m not blind you know. Not like I’d need to be Sherlock bloody Holmes to figure it out. You’re the kind of chit who can’t hide what she feels. Not really.”
Cordelia was startled to hear the words that came out of Spike’s mouth. He’d been in town for like a total of ten minutes and he knew. Great, if I’m that obvious, I’m screwed, everyone must know by now. Okay, Cordy, play it cool. Maybe you can convince him that he’s wrong. “Please Spike. Angel and I, we’re just friends.”
“You’re not the first woman to tell me she and Angel were just friends. That was laughable the first time I heard it but it’s sounds even more ridiculous now.”
“Ughhh,” Cordy moaned as she handed Spike a cup of blood. “What’s ridiculous is the idea of me and Angel. It’s, it’s…inconceivable. It’s as crazy as saying you’re in love with the Slayer.” When she didn’t get a response, Cordelia looked up from putting Equal in her coffee. Spike appeared to be having a lot of trouble swallowing his mouthful of blood. And if it was possible, he seemed to have gone even paler. “Oh my god. That’s it, isn’t it? That’s why you are here. Cause, cause you…” Cordelia trailed off. She never finished the sentence. She saw that look on his face, that pained, awful look. She wouldn’t go there.
Sensing she wasn’t going to finish that sentence, Spike opened his eyes and looked at the woman in front of him. She took a sip of her coffee but her eyes never left his, and in them, he saw something. It wasn’t pity. Understanding maybe? In that moment, in the silence, the two seemed to reach an unspoken agreement. Things were communicated, things neither felt like talking about out loud, ever. It was very poignant, until Cordelia’s stomach growled. Loudly.
“Well,” Cordy said. “Since all I have in my fridge is a three-year-old Lean Cuisine and I am really not a fan of the pig’s blood, we better head over to the hotel.”
Part 8: Training DaysBy the time they got to the Hyperion it was after one and Cordelia’s stomach was playing a symphony of some sorts. When they walked in the door, the scene was as expected. Gunn stood crouching next to the playpen, trying to get Connor to grip a mini-basketball, with a little cheerleading from Dawn. Wes and Fred were hunched over humungous books in Wesley’s office. Xander and Willow were sitting on the round couch in the middle of the lobby, looking uncomfortable. And Angel and Buffy were nowhere to be seen.
Everyone seemed to notice the new arrivals at the same time and there was a hushed silence.
“Oh, don’t be so dramatic,” Cordelia said as she brushed off the confusion and walked over to the playpen, waving at Spike to follow her. “Spike, you know Willow and Xander…and Dawn,” Cordy said as Dawn ran to Spike and gave him a warm hug, much to the consternation of everyone else in the room.
“Sorry I lied to you. Buffy made me,” Dawn whispered in Spike’s ear.
“No worries niblet I know you were just following the Slayer’s orders,” Spike told her with a smile.
“Ohhhh-kay. So you two are best friends now? Allright, I can accept that. No weirder than anything else around here,” Cordy announced. “Anyway, Spike, I know you remember Wesley, and that just leaves Gunn and Fred.” Cordelia turned to the two people she had just named. “Yes, before you ask, he is a vampire Fred, and no, Gunn, before you ask, you can’t stake him.”
Fred came forward, with not a whit of shyness or hesitation. “Hey I’m Fred. I heard a little about you, and I came across your name in a couple of files.”
Spike turned to Cordelia. “You have files on me?”
“What can I say, you’re a legend,” Cordy responded wryly. She really wanted to finish this whole get to know you deal and find out where Angel was. Because I’m hungry. I can get Angel to cook for me. That’s why I want to know where he is. Not because I’m all jealous that he seems to have disappeared with Buffy, the love of his un-dead life.
Fred was still talking to Spike about the snitches of info she had on him. “Yeah, so, the way I figure it, that scar on Cordy’s stomach, that’s really your fault. Cause weren’t Xander and Willow doing a spell for you when Cordelia found them all—you know—and then she fell and hurt herself.” Fred was oblivious to the fact that Xander and Willow were turning incredible shades of red.
“Well that’s one way to look at it. Sorry bout that Cor,” Spike offered gamely.
Unlike Fred, Cordy wasn’t oblivious to the embarrassment Xander and Willow were suffering—she was relishing it. She waved off Spike’s apology. “Oh please, Spike, you might have done a little Scoob-napping but you didn’t force them to start rolling all over each other. You didn’t tell them it was mating season on the Hellmouth.” Cordy shot a glare over at the two in question, conveying a bitterness she really didn’t even feel anymore. This was just too good to pass up.
Xander didn’t say anything, but Willow stood up and was half way through a stuttering apology before Cordelia’s honorability got the better of her. “Willow, stop. Please. I was kidding. I’m way over that. No biggie. Got me over that whole crushing on Xander sickness. Hey, I should probably be thanking you.”
Willow didn’t say anything. Cordelia joking around? Cordelia missing an opportunity to make someone suffer? Cordelia reaching into the playpen and scooping up the baby and looking incredibly natural doing it? Was this like a sign of yet another apocalypse?
Cordelia brushed kisses over the baby’s downy head and moved closer to Spike. “And finally, this is the little guy you didn’t get introduced to last night.” She awkwardly positioned the baby in Spike’s arms as the rest of the room nervously looked on. After a couple of seconds of watching an almost fearful Spike rock the baby like the novice he was, Gunn asked if Cordy didn’t think Angel would object to this. “Please,” Cordy answered, “Angel lets a Pylean demon baby-sit. He buys diapers next door to the butcher shop he buys PIGS BLOOD from. He’s in no position to be so picky.” Though Cordy did stage whisper to Dawn “If you see him smoking anywhere near that child, stake him.” To which Dawn nodded with a giggle.
Finally, Cordelia couldn’t hold back from asking. She had been here nearly ten minutes. Still no Angel. Wasn’t he the tinsiest bit concerned about her? She had gone off into the night with Spike, who had spent years raping and pillaging, or whatever it was the Fabulous Four had done together. “Since Gunn’s here, I guess I better forget the idea of leftover pizza, huh. Well, where’s Angel? I could go for an omelet a la vampire.”
All Cordelia got was a roomful of people who refused to meet her eye. The gang from Sunnydale wasn’t looking because they were trying to imagine the idea of Angel as Emeril Lagasse. The Fang Gang, however, they seemed a little worried. “You guys? Hello? I asked where Angel is? Since it’s a little bright outside, I’m assuming he is in residence.”
“Well, yeah,” Fred finally answered. She wasn’t entirely sure why she thought telling Cordelia might be a bad idea, but judging from their hesitation, Wes and Gunn seemed to agree with her. “He’s here. He’s in the basement. I think he’s training…” Cordelia was already heading down the stairs. She didn’t catch the last part of what Fred mumbled. “With Buffy,” Fred trailed off. More awkward silence. It was becoming the theme of the day.
“So anyone else having a mental picture of Angel in an apron adding blood to stuff and yelling Bam!” Xander wondered. “What, it’s a valid question?”***
Angel stood near the stairs to the basement, watching Buffy run through a series of exercises with a sword. She was graceful, her motions exhibiting a fluid strength that seemed innate. He knew she preferred crossbows to swordplay, but he had no problem imagining her as a more than worthy opponent. They had been down here for more than an hour now. They worked as well together as they always had—their movements blended so well they seemed choreographed. She’d even given him a few tips on a new spin-kick move. And yet, for some reason, Angel was disappointed.
He had suggested her training with him as a way of getting her to open up. Regardless of what she said, he was positive Buffy had a real motive for coming to LA, other than simply missing him. She had missed him plenty before but that had never had her driving down the Pacific coast to see him. He figured a little time alone and she might allow herself to tell him what was wrong.
So far it wasn’t working. Angel didn’t know why. When he and Cordy were training, it was an extension of everything else they did. They both remained focused, but they talked. Even when it was just double entendres about weapons or Angel making fun of how Cordelia sweated and he didn’t; somehow so much more was communicated, in those quiet moments between lessons. Angel always emerged from the lessons feeling closer than ever to Cordelia. It wasn’t like that with Buffy.
There was no element of fun here. The air was charged differently. There had been a tenseness in each of their movements. With Cordy, the air is charged too, but not like this. Cordy and I get going and it’s like this weird electricity buzzing around the room, these sparks that I keep thinking I’ll see when we touch. It’s almost, it Is arousing. Today the air tastes differently. Like anger and fear and barely restrained violence.
“You ready for a little hand-to-hand combat,” Buffy asked. “I think we’ve played enough with weapons for the day. Besides…I’m much better…with my hands.”
That was the other thing that was a little off, Angel thought. Buffy had been saying things. Things that were pretty odd, considering their current relationship. And she’d also been bringing up random Sunnydale memories at the strangest moments. She’d talked about making out through her window the night she was grounded. She asked him if he remembered the song they danced to at her prom. That was three years ago!
Angel walked over to her, so they stood facing each other on the mat. Her hair was shorter now, but still soft and feminine. She had on black tank top and blue yoga pants, the outfit highlighting her small body’s muscled frame. She seemed so…small. Not that she had been big before. Angel didn’t know what it was. Buffy had an air of fragility. Despite his knowledge of her strength, she just seemed “breakable.” Maybe it’s all those months being down here with Cordy. All that glowing skin, those long sleek limbs, those curves… Always that urge, just barely contained, to reach out and grab, caress, taste. Buffy just gives me the urge to feed her. Stuff her full of comfort food until she seems more stable.
Angel had been having these thoughts while sparring with Buffy and now he paid for his distraction. She kicked him in the side so he was off balance, grabbed his arm and turned so that he was briefly facing her back. Then she flipped him. He hit the ground with an “Ummph” and was still. Funny how I don’t need to breathe but I can still get the wind knocked out of me. Suddenly Buffy was straddling him. Neither spoke. She was panting and her eyes, they looked so determined. She moved her hands to his chest. Though the thin cotton of his black tee shirt, he felt the burning heat of her body.
Buffy lowered her head slightly, a tiny movement but it seemed to speak volumes to Angel. He noticed the slight hitch in her breath, the way her fingers gripped his shirt. He mouth opened and she took a breath, like she was getting ready to say something important, but than they both heard feet bounding down the stairs and looked to the left, even though Angel didn’t need to. He knew who it was.***
I have no right to be mad. We use the basement to train. It’s not like some VIP, invitation only room. Anyone can train down here. Even barely covered way-too-toned looking blond slayers. Still, it was hard. Cordelia had practically run down the stairs, to her own chagrin, run down like a 12-year-old excited to see her crush, and had walked into a scene from a late-night Skinamax movie. The part immediately before the two leads ripped each other’s clothes off and had sweaty sex allover the floor. Ewww, don’t think like that, don’t think like that. Come on Cordy, pull it together.
So, while she could feel a painful vise grip her heart, all Cordy said was, “Wow, nice to see you two getting so much training done.” She added a raised eyebrow, hoping for a blasé, “you two crazy kids” attitude.
Buffy didn’t make any move to get off Angel. It was like a twisted repeat of the scene she and the Scoobies had walked in on the day before. Except Cordelia wasn’t enjoying this one nearly as much.
“Hey Cordy,” Angel said nervously. He looked at Buffy, waiting for her to climb off of him. He wanted her off of him. This had felt wrong before Cordelia came downstairs, now it felt worse. When Buffy missed the signals, Angel finally just removed her himself. He sprang up and dusted himself off, surreptitiously glancing at his Seer to gauge her reaction. She just nodded and tapped her foot on the floor. God she has cute toes. And that skirt. Does she wear that red skirt on purpose? She must know what the color does to men, even non-blood-sucking men.
“Did you want something Cordelia,” Buffy asked in a sickly-sweet voice. Buffy didn’t know why everyone was acting so funny. Cordelia looked like she had just swallowed a lemon and Angel looked apologetic, like he had been doing something wrong.
“I want so many things Buffy. Those shoes Sarah Jessica Parker wore in that last episode of ‘Sex in the City.’ A nice looking stock portfolio. A copy of ‘Say Anything’ on DVD.”
She seems jealous. Or like she’s trying to hide the fact that she’s jealous. No, she couldn’t be jealous. Not from seeing me with Buffy. I mean, for her to be jealous of that, she would have to…want me. Okay, so that’s not it. No matter the cause of her anger, Angel wanted it gone, SOON.
“As for right now,” Cordelia continued with a glare at Angel, “what I want is—”
“Right now you want lunch. Of course you do,” he said, soothingly. He walked over to the stairs and placed his hands on her shoulders. “You’re probably starving. It’s not like Spike cooks. And I bet Gunn ate all the leftover pizza.” Ahh, that got a glimpse of a smile. “Lets go get you some food,” he said. Then her turned her around and followed her upstairs. Neither glanced back at Buffy, who stood in the middle of the mat looking perplexed.
Angel got to the top of the stairs before he yelled down to ask if Buffy was coming. Am I coming? Am I coming? What just happened here? “In a minute,” she yelled back and the door shut. Alone now, Buffy looked around the room. She had been trying so hard. Trying to put Angel, and herself, in the mood. She had been so close. This, this just has to work. Angel is going to kiss me and everything will be okay again. I’ll stop licking my lips and missing the taste of Spike. I’ll stop. I’ll stop. Buffy looked down at her clenched hands and then at the punching bag in the corner. What the hell.
Part 9: EureekaBuffy came up stairs fifteen minutes later. She had broken the punching bag. Okay, so clearly I am having a few issues. Healthy aggression. That’s all. She felt better. She was back to being focused on the job at hand. Not that Angel is a job. Being with him, that’s not a job…is it? No, it’s just harder for us to find our, uh, groove. But it’s still there. It has to be. Assuring herself that all was once again right with the world, Buffy walked upstairs and opened the door…and the world was not as she expected.
Wes was walking around the lobby but never looking up from the book in his hand—he even handed Buffy a bottle of water, without even losing his place. He was clearly in high research mode. Fred and Dawn sat on the couch while Spike and Xander took turns holding Angel’s miracle child. Buffy wandered into the kitchen where Cordelia sat at the table, painting Willow’s nails. Willow had that shy look on her face, one that Buffy hadn’t seen in years. It was like she was in awe of the fact that Cordelia was consenting to talk to her. Buffy didn’t like that look.
Then there was Angel. The champion of the Powers that Be wasn’t sitting in a dark corner or polishing his antique weaponry. He was adding mushrooms and green peppers to a frying pan. He was making eggs. Alllll-right. So that part’s new. Buffy didn’t feel like commenting on the scene—she didn’t know who to address the comment to. So she just sat down at the table next to Willow. She listened as Cordelia told Willow about the long-term benefits of getting pedicures on a bi-monthly basis. She watched as Spike laughed, no he almost giggled, when Connor spit up on him. She heard Gunn and Wesley arguing in a friendly way in the doorway of Wes’s office. She took note of the way Cordelia would sneak icy glares in Angel’s direction and of the way he would bite his lip and look down when he intercepted those looks. Buffy silently took it all in and tried to control the growing dizziness that the scene around her evoked.
Angel was at a loss as to what to do. He could tell Cordelia wasn’t entirely happy with him. He might not be great at reading people, but he wasn’t blind. But I didn’t DO anything. She’s got no reason to be mad. Angel didn’t waste much time pondering that. He just wanted her happy again. Even if she wasn’t yelling at him or anything, the past twenty minutes had been awful. It made him realize just how much he depended on trading looks and smiles with his best friend. How Cordy’s attitude really could make or break his day. He needed her happy…so he could be happy.
“Cordy, you want a couple of pieces of toast with that. Your omelet’s almost done.” Angel offered up. She didn’t look up from Willow’s pinky, only shrugged and mumbled whatever.
“So what are you in the mood for? Wheat? Rye? We might have some white lying around here somewhere.”
“Angel don’t worry about it,” Cordelia said. She blew on Willow’s nails. “Just forget the toast. I need eggs, now. I’m getting all weak from starvation. I don’t have the strength to discuss bread with you.”
“Right, sure, of course,” Angel stuttered. How did she do this to him? She made him feel like a stumbling idiot. “So,” he said, sliding the omelet onto a plate and placing it in front of her, “think you feel like training later. I have a couple of moves I’d love to show you.”
Angel was walking to the refrigerator when Cordelia’s tone froze him in place. “Don’t you think you’ve gotten enough ‘training’ in today? I’m sure if you haven’t Buffy would be more than happy to… finish you off.”
Angel decided it would be in his best interest to shrug that one off. Change the subject. Don’t talk about food or training. “Spike didn’t try anything last night, did he?” Willow and Cordelia both noted how Buffy’s eyebrows shot up with that comment, but neither said anything.
“No. Of course not. Spike was the perfect guest. Luckily, he doesn’t mysteriously get peanut butter on the sheets, unlike SOME PEOPLE.”
“Dammit Cordelia, that wasn’t me, that was y—”
“Whatever. Anyway,” Cordy said, more to Willow than Angel now, “Spike and I had a great time. He’s so funny. It’s amazing that he’s been around for a hundred something years and he’s so up on pop culture. Certain people are centuries behind on what’s cool.” Cordelia knew she was being beyond catty now but she couldn’t stop herself. She was hurting and angry and she knew she had no right to be angry and that was just making her angrier. And there was only one person to reasonably take it out on. “And, lordie, that body. I love men with that tight chiseled look. He certainly didn’t put on any winter weight. Some vampires do you know. Put on a few pounds.”
“Interestingly enough Willow, vampires aren’t the only creatures that seem to be putting on weight this winter,” Angel bit out before he could stop himself. He heard the swift intake of breath, and in a move largely motivated by self-preservation, he turned to Buffy. “So, Buffy, do you have any plans for tonight?” Cordelia choked on her eggs.
“Oh she has plans. She has all kinds of plans,” Cordy mumbled so quietly that only a super-hearing vampire could have heard. Luckily there was one across the table from her. He merely glared in response.
Buffy had to focus for a second before she could answer her question. The things Cordelia had said about Spike, it’s just that, well, it was so rare to hear nice things about Spike. From someone besides Dawn that is. It gave Buffy the wiggins. Wait, Angel wants to do something with me. That’s right. One night with the love of my life and it will stop. I won’t feel so gooey when people say nice stuff about Spike. “Dawn and I have to stop by my dad’s later, but I’m free after that. What did you have in mind?” she asked as seductively as was possible.
“Lorne’s club is having it’s grand re-opening tonight. I think you’ll like the place,” Angel said.
“I’m sure I’ll love it. You know, it doesn’t matter what we do,” Buffy said, reaching for Angel’s hand, “as long as we’re alo—.”
“Great. Fred, Buffy and her friends are gonna come with us to Caritas tonight. Can you tell Lorne we’ll need a table large enough for everyone?”
“Everyone,” Buffy repeated shakily.
“I’m afraid I’ll have to pass,” Wes said re-emerging from his office with Gunn. “I’ve hit a roadblock on my research. Won’t be able to focus until I have that Eureeka moment.” Wes grabbed an apple before heading back to his office. “I’ll be more than happy to watch Connor for you,” he said before shutting the door.
“He actually says ‘Eureeka’,” Xander asked no one in particular.
“Okay, so everyone but Wes. It’s gonna be great,” Angel said.
“Yeah, great. Fabulous,” Cordelia huffed. “I get to watch you make goo-goo eyes all night. Oh, and if I’m really lucky you’ll make a total ass of yourself and decide to sing.” The words were barely out of her mouth before Angel’s hand clamped down on her wrist, with an intimidating grip. He didn’t say anything. He just started walking towards the stairs. Cordy had no choice but to follow him, it was that or be dragged.***
Neither of them spoke. Angel just went up the stairs and Cordelia didn’t offer any protest. She wasn’t stupid. She knew she had been behaving like a cranky adolescent. Angel had every right to be mad. She was actually a little grateful that he had chosen to go upstairs. There’s no way she wanted to have to kiss his ass in front of that group of people.
Angle pulled her into his room, finally letting go of her arm. He reached behind her and shut the door. The look on his face wasn’t unfamiliar, but it was rare that Cordelia ever saw it directed at her. It was anger. Anger bordering on rage. It was a look she had seen directed at Lilah, even a couple of times at Xander. Not at her though. Not since all the beige-yness. Cordelia leaned back on the door. She decided it might be wise to stay near the exit. Angel stood directly in front of her, silent and unmoving. Finally he crossed his arms. He opened his mouth, then shut it and closed his eyes.
“Okay, care to explain the attitude,” he said in a hard voice. Cordelia hated that voice.
“Not really,” came her sullen response.
Angle raised one eyebrow in a move reminiscent of herself. “You don’t want to talk about why you’re acting like such a, a….”
“I think the word you are looking for is bitch.”
Angel’s eyebrow lowered and his arms fell to his side. He looked a little thrown that she was actually admitted it. He had expected more of a battle.
“That’s what I’ve been acting like,” Cordelia continued. “I realize that,” she said, now crossing her arms. Angel made a funny face as more of his anger deflated.
“So, yeah, well, why? Did, did Spike tell you something last night? About me? I should have never let you go home with him. I knew he couldn’t physically hurt you but Spike, he has this awful habit of talking. He TALKS and ruins everything.” Neither of them decided to point out that Angel had gone from angry to apologetic in 3.6 seconds.
“No, it’s not Spike. It’s… Look, Angel, I’m not perfect.” Cordy stopped and rolled her eyes as she noted Angel’s smirk. He had raised that eyebrow again, too. “Okay, so you already knew that one. But, it’s just, I get a little wacky around the Scoobies. They don’t like me much and they come here and make everything weird and then they leave and you do that whole post-Buffy brood session and I hate that and,” she trailed and took a deep breath. “I’m losing my mind.”
Angel immediately assumed the role of comforter. “No. You’re not perfect but you’re not losing your mind. This is weird for all of us. It’s understandable.”
“No, it’s not understandable, why I was so mad at you, it doesn’t make sense at all. I can’t understand why I start feeling threatened the minute they walk in the door. The minute SHE walks in the door. I mean, I saw you two…training…and I just, I—it bothered me. It felt like.” Cordelia couldn’t finish. She realized she was actually blushing.
Angel couldn’t believe she had stopped there. Finally, finally, they were getting close to something. He needed to hear more. “Like what?”
“It’s like you were cheating on me in OUR special place. Which is like so completely crazy. Because, number one, the basement is not a special place and, two, HELLO. You and I, we’re not, you know..” She said, making some odd motions between the two of them. “And there’s no reason I shouldn’t expect Buffy on top of you. She has a perfectly legitimate right to straddle. Star-crossed lovers have straddling rights. I get that. It’s just the whole thing, I don’t know, it threw me. Stupid, huh?”
Angel slowly shook his head. “No, it’s not stupid.” So wait, is she trying to tell me that she’s jealous. That’s what she said. She said she felt like I cheated on her.
“You don’t have to make excuses for me,” Cordelia said. She sighed and walked a couple of steps closer to him. “My moment of insanity has passed. I promise.
Angel was touching her before he could stop himself. He touched the side of her face, then tucked a strand of hair behind her ears. “You are not insane Cordy. You’re not stupid or insane. You—.” Angel didn’t know what to say. I can’t believe the right moment is finally here and I don’t know how to tell her. Should I mention the dreams? Should I tell her I like her, like more than a friend. Geez, why don’t I just pass her a note during study hall while I’m at it.
“I, what?” Cordelia asked. His hand had moved from her cheek to that spot right where her neck met her shoulder. She felt his hand move behind so it was almost cupping her neck and start to pull her forward. Pull her towards him.
Lorne burst in. “Angelcakes. You’re progeny downstairs is wanting some Daddy time. Aunty Lorne just won’t do.” Angel looked down at the ground and let out an unnecessary breath. He released Cordy’s neck and started to walk around her.
“You better come back down too, your food will be getting cold,” he said softly. Cordy nodded but didn’t move, so Angel walked away. Lorne still stood just inside the room, biting his lip.
“Well, do I know how to kill a moment or what?”
“Lorne, that wasn’t a moment, that, it was—”
“It was you two coming very close to waking up and smelling the kyrumption. Don’t worry sweetie. They’ll be another chance. You should probably admit it to yourself first though.”
“Admit what?”
“Admit that you know why you were acting like such a shrew downstairs. You know exactly why walking in on them upset you too much. It’s not a mystery. You were jealous.”
Well duh. Way ahead of you there buddy.
“And you were jealous because…” Lorne said.
Because I’m protective of my best friend. And our purely best friend relationship. And some small part of me, okay, every single female part of me wanted to be the one straddling him. And then I could’ve leaned down and kissed him and told him…that…oh sweet Jesus I’m in love with him. I love Angel.
Cordy wanted scream, wanted to yell that it couldn’t be, but it was too late, it was. Her vacation epiphany hadn’t been that Angel was a hottie. It hadn’t been that he would make a nice fuck-buddy. It hadn’t been about WANTING Angel at all. It had been about loving Angel.
Cordelia’s legs felt weak and she slumped onto the bed and proceeded to bury her face in her hands.
“There you go. Guess you just had one of Wes’s Eureka moments.” Lorne made the comment in a low voice, then turned around and left the room.