Go TeamC/A
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CHAPTER 30 The Mansion, Crawford Street, Central Sunnydale
Giles had a theory. Whoop-di-do. Didn't he always? The sketch Cordy had made of the insignia ring might be important, but as far as she was concerned, it was just one tiny clue and hardly worthy of getting worked up over.
Nicolau didn’t seem scary unless you counted his carbon-dated fashion sense and not so charming sense of charm. Only one thing really gave her the wiggins— he knew enough about her to show up at Bev’s funeral. Despite being a member of the evil dead, he wasn’t exactly averse to sunlight. That was so not natural. Well, for a vampire.
Wishing Giles would just get on with it instead of making with the cryptic, she tapped her foot impatiently. He did something better by announcing his decision to take the conversation up to the study. Perfect.
“Follow me.” Motioning them up the stairs, Giles explained that he wanted to confirm his line of thinking by comparing the sketch to one of his watcher texts.
Wesley squawked impatiently, “What precisely is your thinking?”
Stalling at the bottom of the steps, Cordelia wasn’t interested in Giles’ answer as the two watchers turned right heading down the main hall. The Scoobies filed up one by one discussing a few theories of their own.
“Maybe the ring protects Nicolau from the sun,” suggested Willow as she headed for the basement door.
Xander preferred his super-sunblock idea. “Five bucks says it’s just an insignia to the Secret Society of Demon-Worshipping Bloodsuckers.”
“You have five bucks?” asked Buffy just before turning the corner out of sight.
Whirling around to face Angel and Faith, who were directly behind her, Cordelia held up a hand to stop their progress. “Not so fast.”
“Cordy, we need to get up there,” Angel moved up another step forcing her to shift over to block his path. He motioned to the basement door, urging her to follow the others. “I think Giles has finally put some of this together.”
Propping her hands on her hips, she let out a soft ‘pfft’ that silently asked if he really thought she was going to change her mind. Giles’ theory was important, but it wasn’t her immediate concern. Between Faith’s double-agent deal and the overly protective wacko Angel was turning into, they still had stuff to resolve—the kind resulting in her three inch heel being shoved somewhere uncomfortable.
Faith just wanted to know the bottom line. “What’s up?”
“First of all,” Cordelia sounded pissed, “I don’t like being lied to. You’re spying on the mayor, pretending to be on his side. Fine. I get the undercover op thing. I just don’t want to be blindsided by smarmy evil guys at my grandmother’s funeral, especially when one of them has plans to turn me into a human sacrifice.”
Turning around, Faith stalked back toward the center of the room, stopped to stare blindly at groove in the concrete floor, and then reversed back to the stairs. Cordy knew Faith and apologies didn’t mix well, but she deserved a decent explanation. “I wasn’t expecting the mayor to show up. He hasn’t said boo to me since the night I was thrown in jail.”
“He’s the reason you got out,” Angel finally understood.
Faith nodded. “Wilkins has an agenda. I don’t know what it is yet, but it’s going to be big.”
“I suppose it’s tied in with the prophesy,” Cordelia guessed, “considering he’s playing host to Nicolau.”
Angel didn’t give a damn about the mayor’s illegal activities or his behind the scenes business with the local demon population. You could find someone like him in every town. But it looked like Mayor Wilkins was branching out. “Whatever business he’s got with Nico is bad news. We need to know what it is and how to stop him.”
“I’m on it,” Faith promised wanting desperately to make this right.
“How could you not know that man was a vampire?” Cordelia threw her arms up in frustration. “I thought you and Buffy had some built-in vampire detector.”
Shaking her head, Faith told her, “Not really. It’s just that some vamps are easier to spot than others. After a while you know what to look for and get a general sense of something being wrong.”
“I guess the sunshine might throw you off your game,” Cordelia conceded.
“It also makes him more dangerous.” Angel’s jaw clenched down as he considered the fact that Nicolau was not restricted to moving about in the shadows. “Contrary to popular belief, vampires have always been able to be awake during the day. There’s just not much point of going out if there’s no shade to protect us from the sun.”
Cordelia imagined Angel being able to go out during the day. Picnics, the beach and walks in the sun suddenly seemed doable. So what if it sounded like a something out of a B-movie or a bad television script. If any vampire deserved to enjoy the sun, it was Angel.
“This guy wore sunglasses and a hat, but it didn’t provide that much shade,” Cordelia told him. That got her wondering about Willow’s theory. Maybe that ring was magic. “So what’s the big secret? How’d he pull this off?”
“I don’t know.” Angel looked determined to find out. Reminding her, “Giles could be announcing that right now. We should go. That demon sigil is an important clue.”
Important, yes, but not enough to distract her from the other half of this little talk. Pressing a hand to his chest, Cordelia stopped him from moving past her. “Hold it, Sherlock.”
Angel was the picture of wronged innocence as he stared back. “What?” Completely clueless that he’d done anything wrong to end up in the doghouse.
“Hello, you practically strangled Faith a few minutes ago. You’ve been barking orders at Xander and generally making an ass of yourself.”
For a moment, Cordelia thought he wasn’t going to respond except by standing there looking pissed off that she called him on it. “Faith is fine,” he said, glancing her way. The slayer shrugged as if it was no big deal. “Things are moving too damn slowly for my liking. We’re stuck here waiting for an attack instead of tracking these bastards down.”
“I’m all for it,” Faith preferred to go on the offensive.
Angel reached down to take Cordelia’s hand, covering it with both of his. “If I seem a little on edge lately, it’s only because you’re in danger. You’re my…girlfriend, Cordy. I’m not going to stand by while anyone puts you in harms way.”
Noticing the way he hesitated over the word ‘girlfriend’, Angel hoped Cordelia didn’t hear the catch in his voice. The way he felt about her was making him crazy. Just the thought of Nicolau putting his hands on her, kissing her hand, made him want to rip his arm off and shove it down his throat.
There was no way for Nico to know that Angel was in love with Cordy, but he was far from stupid. One look at her and he could probably guess that she far more than just the kind of pet some vampires liked to keep. There were no visible marks to suggest ownership, no sign of a claim, yet the other vampire would know they were lovers.
“Can you please try not to strangle my friends?”
Angel couldn’t quite bring himself to feel guilty about it. Besides, Faith could handle herself. She’d belted him in the jaw with a right-cross and he could still feel it. “Let’s just call it even,” he suggested wryly and motioned for them to head upstairs.
His ears pricked at a sound from above. Another followed, loud enough for Cordelia to hear: shouting. “It’s Wes.”
“We can’t be under attack,” Faith ruled that out only to contradict herself a moment later. “Can we?”
Taking the steps two by two Angel raced toward the ongoing conflict. Raised voices melded into the noise from the far end of the hall. Arriving at the study, Cordelia and Faith behind him, he saw the others in a defensive posture surrounding the fireplace. Buffy held her stake at the ready. Giles wielded a poker. Xander physically blocked the path between the intruder and the only escape. Willow, for some strange reason, appeared to be racing to and fro with armfuls of legal pads, parchments and books.
Pinned prone to the floor beneath Drusilla’s heeled boot, Wesley flailed out of control like a butterfly in its final death throes. Arms reaching. Legs kicking. “No, no, please. You mustn’t do this.” Begging got him nowhere. “For God’s sake, someone stop her.”
Braced against the edge of the hearth and using her strength to keep Wesley pinned down, Drusilla stood with an armful of scrolls, holding a leather-bound book toward the fire. The struggling watcher was trying to protect a pile of legal pads containing his research notes. His plea brimmed with panic rather than pain as Drusilla fueled the brightly burning fire with books and papers.
“Drusilla,” Angel’s commanding voice boomed above the others.
Startled, her red lips formed a circle. “Oh. Come see the pretty fire, Angel. It dances. I like dancing.” Yellow and orange flames flickered high over charred book bindings, dark black smoke rising up the chimney. The stench of burning parchment and ink filled the room.
“Put the book down.”
After a glance at the book in her hand, Drusilla defiantly sent it straight into the fire. A painful cry sounded from Wesley as he tried to save it, the flames licking the side of his hand scoring the flesh.
Plunging the poker into the fire, Giles dug the book out before it was consumed by the flames. Embers sparked across the stone hearth. He stomped them out. “Those are important documents, irreplaceable.” Anger left a tremor in his hand as Giles pointed the brass poker toward Drusilla. “Back away.”
Drusilla grabbed the end of the poker despite that it was still hot from the fire and flung it across the room narrowly missing Willow who yelped while ducking low. She vamped out at the pain, flesh and bone shifting, her fangs bared as she hissed at Giles who slowly reached for the small vial of holy water he had taken to carrying in his jacket pocket.
Before he could act, Buffy decided she wasn’t going to let Drusilla harm anyone else. “That’s it.” Maneuvering into a better position, she had every intention of putting her stake through the vampire’s heart.
A strong arm yanked her back at the last moment. Angel. “I’ll handle it. Stay put.” He pushed her none too gently toward the couch where Buffy collapsed into a sitting position.
Outraged that he’d stop her, Buffy yelled back, “She’s dangerous. The next time I see fangs—”
“She’s a vampire,” Cordelia shrugged as she walked past Buffy. “Fangs go with the territory.”
“Cool it, B,” Faith put a hand on her shoulder to keep her seated when Buffy made a move to get up. “Angel’s got it covered.”
Drusilla shrunk back against the stone mantle, removing her foot from Wesley’s back and releasing him as she tried to escape Angel’s stern stare. Hugging the remaining scrolls tightly to her reed thin body, Drusilla’s morphed back into human form. “Why are you angry, my Angel? Don’t be angry.”
Cordelia followed behind Angel as he approached Dru planning to help Giles get Wes out of the way. The fact that he’d burnt his hand seemed to be the last thing on his mind as he gathered up the legal pads he’d been protecting. She held out a hand to him. “This way, hurry.”
Scuttling out of Angel’s way, Wesley reached back to grab one last pad before letting Cordelia pull him a safe distance away. Considering what Drusilla was like whenever Angel was around, she didn’t think there would be a fight. It was Wes she wasn’t so sure about. If Dru managed to throw those scrolls into the fire, there was no telling how the new watcher would react.
“What’s going on Dru?” Just because he asked the question didn’t mean there was a reasonable explanation for her actions. The things she did often made no sense. It might turn out that she was burning the books simply because she liked to look at the fire.
Dru scooted as far back as she could get ignoring the rough stone scraping her skin. The top layer of her cream-colored dress, a thin veil of diaphanous material, clung to the stones closest to the burning embers that hissed and spit from the fire. “Don’t be angry,” her voice quaked like a naughty child expecting punishment from her father.
Displeasure, rage, the urge to channel that anger into a physical response ratcheted up inside him. He’d dealt with feelings like this after he was first cursed. Unwanted urges and thoughts. Demonic instinct and desires influencing his every move. Always there pressing him to act.
He’d gotten adept at suppressing those urges. Ever since returning from Acathla’s hell, it wasn’t so easy to distance himself from his emotions like before. The more he let himself feel, the more difficult it seemed to control the rest. Cordelia’s words were still fresh in his mind as was the memory of grabbing Faith by the throat.
Right now he didn’t have time to think about it. Angel knew there was a good chance Dru didn’t know what the hell she was doing. He struggled to tamp down the urge to bare his fangs and threaten the truth out of her. The hint of a ridged brow smoothed out, though his eyes remained streaked with gold.
Holding out a hand to her, Angel felt the weight of several stares upon him. “You’re too close to the fire. Come to me. I’m not going to hurt you.”
Drusilla took the few steps separating them, a frightened sob escaping, and buried her head against his shoulder. “No,” she knew he wouldn’t harm her. Her thin frame trembled against his. “No, but he will.”
“He who…Spike?” asked Cordelia even though that didn’t seem likely. He was still laid up in bed. “If he’s still being a big baby about drinking the pig blood, I can talk to him again.”
Angel doubted that was the cause of this little book burning session. “I don’t think she means Spike. He’d never intentionally harm her.” And that didn’t explain what Dru was up to by burning their research.
The scrolls scrunched between them as Dru squirmed closer. Angel tried to gently maneuver her out of his arms, but she wasn’t budging. Something had frightened the hell out of her. Someone, by the sound of it and it didn’t take much of a guess to figure out whom.
Promising, “Nicolau can’t touch you here,” he quietly wondered whether a vampire immune to the power of the sun was encumbered by any restrictions. Would Willow’s disinvite spell keep him out? That made the mansion defense plans were a whole helluva lot less secure.
Giles cleared his throat to get Angel’s attention. “Might I take those?” indicating the scrolls.
That was fine with Angel, but getting Drusilla to release them without harming them wasn’t that easy. She glanced toward the flames dancing in the hearth. “I see them burning.”
“Yes, quite,” Wes clipped as he too stared into the fire taking a mental inventory of what was lost.
Drusilla laughed in a way that made their hair stand on end. “Dark secrets cast long shadows when they come into the light.”
Behind them, Cordelia’s brows arched at the insane little sound, a shiver creeping up her spine. “Melodramatic, much? Next time tell us about your vision before you start burning things.”
Angel turned to face her bringing the still clinging vampiress around with him. “Those scrolls hold the secrets that will help us to stop Nicolau from fulfilling this prophesy.”
“What did you see, Dru?” asked Cordelia knowing that the vision the vampiress had shared with her contained disjointed flashes of a possible future. It seemed unlikely that anyone could make sense of such a thing. No wonder she was crazy.
Holding out one of the scrolls, Drusilla shared her thoughts in a whisper, “I see them burning.”
So she’d said before. That didn’t tell them anything new or useful. Cordelia took the rolled parchment. “We need this to find a way to stop the prophesy from happening. No more bonfires, ‘kay? Angel won’t let that creep hurt you.”
“The light brings truth and darkness.”
At her sire’s direction, Drusilla handed over the remaining scrolls to Cordy. Giles and Wes stood by to take them. The musty parchments looked pretty much the same to her, but when she handed over one thick scroll, Giles immediately carried it over to the desk for closer inspection. Relief and a twinge of hope suffused his words, “The prophesy wasn’t destroyed in the fire.”
That was nice, but Cordelia thought they already knew what the prophesy scroll had to say. “Does it matter? I thought you had that thing memorized by now.”
Actually, she was all for setting a torch to that particular parchment if doing so would make the whole thing go away.
“Our translation has been providing us with necessary clues,” Giles reminded her. “It may continue to prove useful as we get closer to the individual events leading up to the Rites of Tavrok. The original text may be important.”
“Particular nuances in the language,” added Wes before turning his attention to the reddened flesh on his left hand. A moment longer and he would have been seriously burned.
Cordelia suggested that she get the First Aid Kit from upstairs. Turning toward the door she saw, “Spike! What are you doing out of bed?”
Looking a little less like he’d been put through a meat grinder, Spike leaned against the doorframe for support. “Thought the bloody mansion was burning down around our ears. Then there was the screeching. Didn’t know we had any five year old girls running around the place.”
“That was Wes,” pointed out Xander when Spike’s accusing gaze drifted his way. “I don’t screech like a girl.”
“Debatable, but unimportant at the moment,” Angel said as he released Drusilla so she could go to Spike. Their silent greeting was a tactile one. A nuzzle of her cheek against his throat, their hands connecting, fingers threading together followed by Dru settling her cheek against Spike’s shoulder.
When Angel explained what had happened Spike didn’t offer any apologies on Dru’s behalf. Truthfully, Angel didn’t expect any. They had experienced the aftereffects of her visions for too many years to bother with that.
“Cordelia, please wait,” Wesley called out to her as she was squeezing by the pair hanging out in the doorway. “My hand can forgo treatment for another few minutes. I think you should be present to hear what Mr. Giles has to say about the ring.”
Letting out a soft huff, Cordelia turned around and walked over to join Faith standing by the couch. “So let’s hear it.”
“One moment,” Giles started sifting through the books Willow had managed to save. He wanted to cross-reference the symbol on the drawing with one in the symbology text.
Spike had no idea what they were on about. “What ring?”
Glowering over the reminder that an enemy vampire had actually touched Cordelia, Angel explained, “Nicolau was at the funeral—in broad daylight.”
“That’s ruddy impossible.” Spike’s jaw dropped open at the thought of possessing the ability to survive sunshine. “The ring protected him?”
Willow hopped up on the edge of the desk being careful not to sit on the parchment spread out across it. “That’s my theory.”
“I want one.”
Everyone stared at Spike.
“What?” he shrugged.
“A ring that protects vampires,” muttered Wesley suddenly taking Willow’s theory to heart, “makes them impervious to the sun, invulnerable.” The idea struck a familiar chord. “No, no, there has to be another explanation.”
Giles looked up from the book in his hands, the one he had saved from the fire. Its edges were charred, pages turned brown. He knew exactly where Wes was taking that particular line of thinking. “Yes, there is another explanation. Wesley, please restrict your musings to the realm of the possible.”
Bristling at the tone of disbelief, Wesley suddenly felt like defending the conclusion he had been prepared to disregard. “Until recently the stories of the Banished Ones were thought to be outside the ‘realm of the possible’.”
“You’re talking about the Gem of Amara,” realized Angel with a growing sense of dread. If Nicolau had somehow gotten his hands on the gemstone with its purported limitless power there would be no stopping him.
Cordelia thought about the ring she’d seen on Nicolau’s hand. It was gold inlaid with black onyx in an intricate design. Something had given the vampire the ability to go out in the sun. It might be a one-time thing like a spell or something permanent like a magic ring. “I wouldn’t call an onyx a gem—unless it wasn’t really an onyx. Maybe it was a black diamond. What kind of gems do these Amara people have?”
“Nobody knows,” Giles answered. “The Gem of Amara is the vampire equivalent of the Holy Grail. There was a great deal of interest in it back in the, oh, 10th century. Questing vampires combed the earth. They found nothing and concluded that it never existed.”
Just as Wesley had reminded him of the origins of the Banished Ones, legends often had a basis in fact. Pursing his lips, Giles thought about it for a moment concluding that the younger man was right to consider that option. Discovering that the House of Solaris was comprised of the almost-mythic Banished Ones put a new perspective on things. They could take nothing for granted, nor ignore any avenue of possibility in their research.
“I apologize,” he gave Wes a nod. “We should not disregard any theory that might explain the situation. Assuming that we still have the necessary texts,” his glance slid Drusilla’s way, “you should look into it.”
Wes’ chin jutted up another notch. “Very well.”
“For all we know at this point there could be a connection between the gem and the Sect of Solaris.” Giles was less inclined to call it a true clan as it was apparently a branch of the House of Aurelius.
Angel picked up the sketch Cordelia had made from the floor where someone had dropped it during the chaos. He stared at the sigil trying to remember if there was some other place he had seen it. Nothing. Standing by his original assessment, he reiterated, “This is a demon brand, and not anything recognized by the clans. The House of Solaris has no true vampiric crest of its own. So this sign of their allegiance to a demon god suffices.”
He tossed the paper down on the desk in disgust.
Most days Angel hated who and what he was, a vampire. Angelus had never honored the Master, never seen him as anything but a rival. Back then he’d been far more interested in indulging Darla’s whims, and his own, to take any interest in the politics of their bloodline.
Vampires like Nicolau were anathema to the rest. Deep down inside him, Angel felt it too. Worshipping a demon was wrong from anyone’s perspective, but to a vampire, it was not only disgusting, but a perversion of the practice of being answerable only to themselves.
“We have a match,” Giles looked up from the book again. He picked up the sketch comparing it to the ink drawing in the book. “Angel was correct in that it is a demon symbol. However, it belongs to a vastly powerful creature: Amolon.”
Though Cordelia figured this was Giles’ big announcement, she had to ask, “A mole on what? Color me underwhelmed. You’d think these Big Bads would have scarier names.”
Sighing deeply, he closed his eyes for a moment of reflection. Then Giles pronounced it again more slowly while enunciating each syllable. “AH-mo-LON.”
The name with its correct pronunciation meant nothing. “Um, really? Wow.” Cordelia tried to sound enthusiastic about the revelation.
“This is important, Cordelia,” defended Giles taking affront that she wasn’t excited or relieved or—anything other than sarcastic about the discovery. “Now we know which demon we are up against and can tailor our defense more precisely.”
“Great. Go defense!”
Having been lost in thought from the moment Giles uttered the name of the demon, Wesley finally realized why it sounded familiar. He was the only person present other than Giles for whom the announcement meant anything.
“Gah! One of the Old Ones? That can’t be. Let me see.” Snatching the sketch out of Giles’ hand, he stared back and forth between it and the charred page of the book. “Oh, dear God. It does match. Perhaps it’s a fluke. Perhaps Cordelia got it wrong. Oh, dear. We…we should call the Watchers’ Council immediately. They should send back up.”
Trying to remain calm about the situation, Giles reminded him, “You are the back up.”
“Someone tell me why the new watcher is having a power-freak?” asked Xander as Wesley dashed over to his legal pads of notes and started flipping through them at a manic pace.
Since Wesley had mentioned that Amolon was considered to be one of the Old Ones, Angel started to understand the reason for his concerns. Though the prophesy itself suggested that they weren’t dealing with an insignificant threat, this put things on a whole other level.
“If Nicolau’s sect manages to fulfill their part of the prophesy,” Angel warned grimly, “Amolon will be free.” Fragments of memory flashed through his mind of Acathla’s hell dimension. “You’ve never seen a real demon here on Earth or know the power they possess.”
Xander gulped.
“We fight demons all the time,” Faith countered and jutted her thumb in Spike and Dru’s direction. “Vampires are just the tip of that butt-ugly end of the iceberg.”
A growl sounded behind her, but went ignored.
Returning to the desk with his research notes, Wesley said, “Vampires and the other creatures you’ve fought aren’t pure demon. If Amolon makes his way here, the Earth is doomed.”
A feeling of déjà-vu hit Giles like he had had this conversation about the Old Ones at a previous time. Faith hadn’t been there yet, just Buffy and her friends, a time when they were still naïve about the Slayer’s role at the Hellmouth. It took him a moment to recall just when the subject had come up—during the time of the Harvest.
“Long ago demons made the world their hell and they ruled the Earth for eons. Over time, they lost their hold on this reality and were forced into exile making the way for mortal animals, for man.”
An icky sense of dread was churning in Buffy’s stomach. “That sounds familiar.”
“I’ve mentioned it before.”
“Oh. My bad,” she cringed. “Guess I failed the pop quiz.”
Willow didn’t. “I remember that,” she chirped almost excitedly. “It’s the creation myth for vampires. The last demon leaving Earth fed off a human, mixed their blood. A human infected with a demon who fed off another and another.”
“Vamp central,” nodded Xander. He sort of remembered the conversation back when he’d learned that Buffy was the Slayer and that vampires really existed. That seemed so long ago now.
Cordelia hadn’t been privy to that conversation. This was all new to her. Every time they discovered something new about this prophesy it seemed to get worse. “So you are actually saying this Mole Guy can actually back up the gloom and doom stuff.”
First, a demon-worshipping vampire cult wanted to sacrifice her to their demon god. Now it seemed that the demon wasn’t some puffed up hotshot with more charisma than power.
“Amolon is gloom and doom.” Wesley told her. “No wonder Solaris and his sect were banished from the House of Aurelius. Whatever they hope to gain from this must be immense. Bringing the demon to Earth will mean the death of billions of humans and the endangerment of their food supply. The depletion of their feeding grounds would cause most vampires to prefer the status quo.”
Xander shuddered, his gaze straying to the doorway where Drusilla and Spike wore identical smirks. “Hey, enough with the feeding grounds talk.”
Ditto for Cordelia who was so ready for that bubble bath she’d promised herself. She walked over to Angel who immediately sensed the fear beneath her outwardly calm face. He put his arm around her shoulder bringing her closer.
Angel brushed his lips against her forehead and whispering a promise. “It’ll be okay, baby. We’re going to stop this before it happens.”
****
Sunnydale High School Cafeteria
Lunchtime was a messy mix of teenagers, gossip, hunger and hormones, but this was the normal part of their world. The parts where headless corpses were found in the freezer and the lunch lady served up the mystery meal of the day were a couple exceptions. Buffy, Xander, Willow and Oz sat together at one table trying to bring Oz up to speed on everything that had happened.
Looking upset that he hadn’t been around to offer help, Oz told them, “The band is booked pretty solidly over the next few weeks. I don’t know how much I’ll be around for research. Willow, you should definitely call me if you guys ever need the van. Or a werewolf,” he added wryly.
“Thanks, Oz,” Willow squeezed his hand. “Maybe it’s better if you don’t get involved.”
Oz’ expression didn’t change as he calmly pointed out, “You’re involved.”
“Awww! That’s so sweet.”
Watching Willow hug her boyfriend and plant a mushy kiss on his cheek, Buffy felt a big void in her heart. She thought about the way Angel had comforted Cordelia after Giles’ big announcement and remembered the gentle strength of those arms. It just wasn’t fair that Angel should be so wrapped up about Cordelia Chase.
Every time she thought about the way she forced them to patrol together, expecting they would drive each other insane, it made her a little crazy instead. Now Angel was acting differently and Buffy suspected his relationship with Cordy was to blame. Look at the way he attacked Faith.
He was protective. Okay, so that wasn’t a bad quality in a boyfriend. Still, there were times when Angel reminded her more of Angelus’ possessive, obsessive side. Heaven help anyone who threatened to sneeze in Cordelia’s direction because he acted like he might take off their head for it.
He was verbal. Chatty, much? That was so Cordelia’s influence. Angel had always been the strong silent type. Buffy wasn’t used to him having opinions— unless he had them all along and she just wasn’t listening.
He was totally in command. Bossy. Ordering everyone around like he was the one in charge. She should talk to Giles. It might be Angel’s mansion, but he invited Spike and Drusilla for cripes sake. No way was she ever going to trust those two. Imagine working with Spike to save the world. As if.
Lately, Angel just rubbed her the wrong way.
“Hot enough?” The question startled her out of her Angel-fogged thoughts.
He was definitely hot. Oh yeah. Nothing had changed there.
Buffy blinked slowly into focus as she realized the voice wasn’t asking about Angel’s hotliness. “Wh-what?”
Sitting next to her, Xander asked again, “Is your food still hot? You keep pushing it around on your plate.”
“Food…right.” Buffy gulped down several bites in a few seconds. “Mmmm.”
“You scare me.”
Xander returned to the conversation they’d been having with Oz when he’d noticed that Buffy had zoned out. He lifted a spoonful of green Jell-O to demonstrate what would happen to them if Amolon managed to make it to Earth.
“This is us.” He wiggled the Jell-O around on the spoon. Turning it at an angle, with the green dessert hanging precariously to the side of the spoon, he prepared for a demonstration of Amolon’s power.
“This is us after the Big Bad shows up.” Xander bent the spoon back like a catapult. Aiming for a nearby column, he let the Jell-O fly expecting that Oz would be suitably impressed with the splattitude and his use of visual aids.
The wiggly green blob arced through the air.
At the very same moment Principal Snyder stepped up to their table intercepting the Jell-O with his otherwise spotless grey suit. Infuriated, he roared, “Xander Harris!” as they watched the green Jell-O rebound off his lapel and plummet onto his shoe.
In frozen tableau, they watched as the principle’s mouth moved, as his face turned beet red, and the few hairs remaining on the top of his head stood up as if electrified by his fury. The whole cafeteria stopped to listen. More food for gossip? Upon seeing that it was just Xander Harris up to his usual lowbrow hijinks, they turned back to their own conversations.
“Detention, Mr Harris,” Snyder doled out the punishment that included scrubbing the graffiti found earlier that day on the school grounds. It didn’t matter that he wasn’t responsible for it. He’d clean it anyway.
Xander gulped and sank down into his chair.
Leaning down to speak to Buffy, Snyder added, “I wasn’t able to trace the Chem Lab heist to you, Summers, but I’m not about to let you walk away scot-free.” His beady gaze circled the table pausing over each of them. A satisfied little smirk tightened his mouth. “Detention for all of you.”
****
Angel’s Mansion, The Basement
Spike opened the basement door and saw Cordelia and Angel going through some Tai Chi moves. “So this is where you two get down and dirty.”
He took a seat on the top step and lit up a cigarette, pocketing his flip-top lighter.
“For your information, we’ve been training.” Cordelia continued the cooling down exercises.
Talking didn’t distract her from matching Angel’s moves exactly. Her cheerleading drills had instilled a sense of timing, an innate physical memory. Dressed in a tight little outfit that showed every curve, Spike had more to admire than just the way she moved.
No wonder Peaches had dumped the slayer. For the first time since the torture Spike felt his cock twitch to life. The wood was a good sign his body was almost recovered.
That bloody bitch had weakened him so much he couldn’t even get hard. Isobel was going to pay for that, too.
The swill the watchers were feeding him certainly didn’t help. Pig blood. Swine. How the bloody hell did Angel survive on that bland stuff? What he wouldn’t give for a mouthful of hot, red blood fresh from a ripe woman. There was one right in front of him, causing his thoughts to shift in a dangerous direction.
If Angel even suspected that he was imagining what it would be like to sink his fangs into his lover’s beautiful neck, Spike knew he’d have his bollocks for it. Though Angel had already warned him to stay away from Cordy, he noticed that she wasn’t marked in any way. There was no visible claim.
Spike wasn’t stupid enough to go there. If Angel was stupid enough to let his girl go around without his mark, then that was his problem.
Taking a quick drag, he held the warm smoke in his dead lungs until it burned and then blew it out. “Do you really think Lover Boy will let you anywhere near a fight, pet?”
It didn’t take a verbal reply for Angel to get his point across. One look told Spike he had better mind his own business. Not that it had any effect. Bloody boring, that.
Cordelia stopped mid motion and turned toward the stairs again. Her skin was shiny and beaded with perspiration. A wet spot had gathered between her breasts drawing Spike’s gaze for an instant before he hastily turned his attention back to her face.
“I make my own decisions, Blondie,” she crossed her arms defiantly. “Maybe I don’t have natural slaying skills, but I have as much right as anyone else to defend myself and my friends. Angel knows that.”
The pause before he backed her up lasted a second too long for Cordelia’s liking causing Spike to chuckle over the outrage on her face. “Right,” Angel glared at him over Cordy’s shoulder. “Absolutely. When and if there is an attack on the mansion, you’ll be ready for it.”
“But I want to patrol with you again,” Cordelia turned around to face Angel. “That’s what this training is all about. I’m tired of being cooped up like some pathetic little princess in an ivory tower.”
Angel visibly struggled for a response. Looking pained about it, he finally said, “You can’t put yourself at risk that way.”
“What? It’s my life. Do you know how long it has been since I’ve been to the Bronze? And I’m not even asking for that. If I want to go out, then I’m going out.”
“The hell you are.”
Icily, Cordelia said, “Excuse me?”
Looks like trouble in paradise.
Biting back a laugh, Spike took that as his cue to leave. His fag had burned down low so the glowing ash hung at the end. A flick sent it to the top step where he stood and stomped it out with his boot.
“The mansion is the safest place you can be right now.”
“Your smarmy friend can walk around in sunlight. He might show up here anytime. Who’s to say he can’t just come through the front door invite or no invite?”
“Cordy, for once will you listen to what I’m—”
Spike closed the basement door behind him, blocking out the sounds of the conflict below and went to find Drusilla for a shag.