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How to Treat Your
Lover
by Tami
Chapter 40
Chapter 40-A: Step 3 – Estrangement (Part
7)
Los Angeles, Hyperion Hotel
Cordelia was in the basement of the hotel arranging some flowers in a vase. That’s how Angel found her when he walked into the training area. Glancing around the room, he discovered that she had decorated the whole room with similar flower arrangements.
“What’s this?” Angel asked with a confused expression.
Cordelia glanced back at him and shrugged, returning to her task. “Oh, it’s just so dark and lifeless down here. I thought I’d brighten it up a little for you.” Angel picked up one of the vases. “You can’t exactly go out and enjoy the sunny fields of nature, but that doesn’t mean we can’t bring a little bloom into your darkness.”
“They’re fake,” Angel observed as he set the vase back down.
“Yeah, well, you put something real in this hellhole and it will die,” she snapped her fingers, “like that.”
Angel just looked at her.
She felt the stare and looked up. “Thank you, Cordelia?”
“You know, I’ve been around a long time . . .” Angel started to say.
“Which reminds me,” she cut in. “Next birthday, do you think we could skip the two-hundred and fifty odd candles on the cake and the inevitable fire marshal and just go with a little song?”
Angel looked amazed at her. “I’ve never known anyone like you.”
“Well, duh!” Cordelia said incredulously. “Time’s a wastin’, big guy. Can we do this already?” She shifted into fighting stance with her fists up. “Hi-yah!”
Angel chuckled at her kung fu impersonation. “Okay. Last time we were working on not pulling your punches and your kicks, right? Don’t worry about me.” Cordelia struck out at him and he deflected the punch with his arm. “That’s good.” Cordelia threw another punch at him, which he averted. “Good! Where is your weight?” He looked down, “Balls of your feet?”
Cordelia swung without thinking and hit Angel across the face with all her strength. Her jaw dropped and she stepped back. “Oops! Oh God, you said that . . .” He straightened up with a smile. “Are you okay?”
“I’m a vampire. You can’t hurt me,” he assured her. Turning away from her, Angel made a face and gingerly felt his nose for damage.
“You’re off your game,” Cordelia observed. “Is it because of the prophecy Wes and Gunn and trying to get their hands on? You think the end is coming?”
Angel turned back to face her. “The end is not coming. Someone is always uncovering some ancient scroll, and they’re always saying the same thing: that something terrible is coming. Do you know many of these things I’ve seen in my very long life?”
“Four?”
“Three,” he corrected. “But, there’s nothing to worry about.”
“Then why are Gunn and Wesley breaking and entering right now?” Cordelia asked.
“‘Breaking and entering’ is such a negative term,” Angel cringed. “They are simply retrieving some missing pieces from the Nyazian Scroll. Just to make sure . . .”
“That the end is coming,” Cordelia finished. “Well, all we can do is live each moment to the fullest and be grateful that we didn’t throw too much money at the NASDAQ.”
Angel blinked and lifted a hand towards his face. “Am I swelling?”
“No,” Cordelia assured him. “I thought you said I couldn’t hurt you?”
“That was before I knew you took boxing lessons from Joe Frazier,” Angel replied sardonically. He pointed a finger at her as if he were a parent scolding her. “And for the record, I’m not 250 . . . yet. I’m 248.”
“Potato, potawto,” Cordelia shrugged. “Are you going to train me or whine until you are 250?”
Angel’s shoulders slumped. “Now, I don’t know if I even want to train you. Making digs at my age is hitting a little below the belt.”
“Come on, you big baby, suck it up and take it like a man,” Cordelia said with a cheeky grin.
Angel looked at her, his eyes crinkled at the corners with humor. “Been spending too much time with Spike learning how to push my buttons?”
Cordelia shifted into fighting stance. “Speaking of the blonde wonder, have you tried to talk to him?”
“I tried through the link, he’s still upset with me,” Angel grumbled as he stepped up behind her to direct her movements.
“Have you tried more conventional methods, like say, a phone?”
“Cordy, I don’t want to talk about this. We’ll fix our problems on our schedule. Spike and I aren’t like your soap operas where we can fix it in a week,” Angel replied.
Cordelia shrugged. “You brought him up.”
Fred slowly made her way down the stairs to the basement and watched them.
“Ouch. That doesn’t feel right,” Cordelia said.
“Just relax. You have to bend,” Angel instructed.
“I don’t bend there,” Cordelia said. Angel moved her the way he wanted her. “Okay. Now that’s downright unnatural.”
“I know it feels strange, but if an attacker comes at you from behind, you want to be able to shift all your weight immediately to your other foot so you can spin and kick. Here, you try it,” Angel said.
Cordelia spun around and kicked up against Angel’s chest. He caught her with an arm around her leg and the other arm around her waist to keep her from falling.
“Whoa! Easy, all right? That’s all right,” he praised her as he lowered her leg and released her. “That’s better. We’ll keep . . . working on it. That’s probably enough for today.”
“Yeah, well, we could do more of this, but then I’d have to ice every bone in my body. See ya!” She made a quick exit. Well, as quick as one could make when they were favoring a sore back. Seeing Fred on the steps, she greeted, “Hey, Fred,” as she walked past, climbing the stairs.
“Hey!” Fred smiled.
Fred watched her leave. “She’s such a hero with the visions and courage.” She squealed when she turned and saw the flower arrangements, “Oh, plastic flowers!” She hurried over to one of the vases, “My favorite! They never fade, you know?” So engrossed was Angel as he watched her indulge in the fake flowers that her next question surprised him. “Have you talked to Spike yet?”
Angel hung his head, “Not you too. Look, as I told Cordy, Spike and I will make up sooner or later. You can’t rush reconciliation.”
“You know, if you hadn’t sent him away . . .” Fred commented.
Angel ground his teeth. If Fred were anyone else, he would throttle her for the never-ending guilt trip. He and Spike would deal with their issues. They had accumulated a lot of them over their long history and he was sure Spike invented a few of them out of boredom.
“What’s going on down here?” Wesley asked from the landing at the bottom of the stairs.
Distraction from this topic, thy name is Wesley. There was a God!
“Nothing,” Angel said all too quickly.
“I believe Fred’s been through enough recently without people shouting at her,” Wesley said.
“He didn’t mean anything by it,” Fred said, hoping she sounded assuring even as she involuntarily took a step closer to Angel.
Wesley must have seen the movement and looked guiltily at the floor. He couldn’t blame her for being wary of him after all he’d said and done to her.
Angel felt the awkwardness in the air between them, and couldn’t miss Fred plastered against his side. He cleared his throat and asked, “Is there something you wanted?”
“Uh, yes,” Wesley replied. He looked at Fred, “Gunn and I were hoping you could give us a hand with the Nyazian Prophecies. We need someone who can do the math.”
Angel gave her arm a comforting squeeze. She took a deep breath for courage before nodding, “Sure,” and made a beeline for the stairs, rushing up the steps.
Angel and Wesley watched her leave. Wesley looked crushed as Fred squeezed by him and fled up the stairs. Then, Angel turned around to put the weapons away that he used to train Cordelia. “She’ll come around Wes, give her time.”
Wesley frowned at Angel’s back and looked around at the multitude of vases. “Who gave you the flowers?’
Angel spun around so quick that he bumped into the cabinet, “Nobody!”
**************************
Gunn passed the time by throwing darts at a board in the manager’s office. Wesley sat at the desk, writing while Fred sat as far away as she could and huddled at the corner of the desk, working on the laptop. Cordelia was on the computer at her own desk.
“So, how are you doing there, Fred?” Gunn inquired.
“Oh, it’s a simple equation really. The ancient Roman calendar has fourteen hundred and sixty-four days in a four-year cycle. The Etruscan, Sumerian and Druidian each have their own cycles. You work forward from the presumed day of the prophecy under each calendar, factoring in our own three hundred and sixty-five day calendar and accounting for a three day discrepancy for every four years and . . .”
Gunn zoned out on her half way through. He knew asking a simple question would probably be a bad thing, but he just couldn’t bite his tongue hard enough to keep from asking.
Angel walked into the lobby from the basement and saw Cordelia at her desk. He stopped before the rest of the team knew he was there.
Fred stopped in mid tangent and looked at the computer. “Oh. This can’t be right . . . unless the world ended last March.”
“So, are we talking Armageddon or bad house number?” Gunn asked as he sat down in the chair opposite Wesley. “Is it a bad event or a bad guy?”
“Uh, it’s not clear on that,” Wesley replied. “It predicts the arrival or arising of the Tro-clan, the person or being that brings about the ruination of mankind.”
“So it’s a two-for-one?” Gunn raised a brow. “Isn’t that nice?”
“And I’m not sure on the translation. Ruination may in fact mean purification,” Wesley said thoughtfully.
“So, this Tro-clan is a good thing?” Gunn inquired, sounding hopeful.
“I doubt that,” Wesley said. “But it’s purification in Aramaic, ruination in ancient Greek and in the lost Ga-shundi language it means both.”
“And you don’t want to make the same mistake twice,” Cordelia called out, looking up from her screen at Wesley who immediately looked back at his papers, averting her gaze.
“No,” Wesley agreed.
“What mistake?” Fred asked curiously.
Wesley coughed to clear his throat. “There was another, uh, prophecy a while back. It seemed to be about Angel and contained the word ‘Shanshu’ which I thought meant to die and I . . . sort of told Angel . . .”
“That he was going to die,” Cordelia finished.
“Oh, no,” Fred gasped.
“Then, I found out it also meant to live. It meant to die and to live,” Wesley said.
“So, which is it?” Fred asked.
“Both,” Wesley replied. “In his case it meant that some day the vampire in him might die, but the human in him might live.”
“He would be like a normal man?” Fred surmised.
“Yes,” Wesley confirmed and went back to reading.
“Wow,” Fred said mystified. “What would we do if that happened?”
“I’d buy him some plaid shirts and take him to the beach. The boy needs some color,” Cordelia said flippantly as Fred went back to typing on the laptop.
“There,” Fred said, sitting back to admire her skills. “That came out better,” then, double-checked her findings. “Oh. No it didn’t. It’s still very preliminary, but – if these calculations are correct, this bad thing should already be here.” She looked up. “Well, I-I guess not right here, but – here in L.A. Let me run these numbers again.”
Angel walked around the reception desk and sat down.
“Hey,” Cordelia greeted.
“Hey.”
Cordelia went back to work, but after a while of feeling Angel’s eyes on her, she glanced over, “Why are you looking at me like that?”
“Ah,” Angel cleared his throat, “No reason.”
A few minutes later, Cordelia stood up and walked past him to pour a cup off coffee. “Okay, it’s getting creepy now.”
“I was just thinking about things. People, you know? How they relate. Take you and me for instance. We’re very different. Very different, obviously,” Angel said. He pointed at her, “Human,” then, himself, “Vampire.” Pointing at her again, he said, “Woman,” then, himself, “Man . . . pire.”
Cordelia gave him a curious look and raised a brow. “Has someone been putting vodka in your blood?”
Angel laughed, remembering the time Spike had been experimental with his blood. “See? You’re funny! And I, well I get off a good one every once in a while, but you . . .”
“Angel, are you trying to say you love me?” Cordelia asked as she sipped her coffee.
“What?” Angel asked in a shocked voice. Sure he loved her, but not the way she made it sound. He was with Spike. Well, not physically, but he was working on that.
“I love you too,” Cordelia shrugged.
“You do?” he croaked. “When did this . . .?”
“Angel loves me. I love him!” Cordelia yelled towards the office door.
“Oh, my, God,” Angel said as his jaw dropped.
“You guys love us and we love you,” Cordelia called out.
“We love you Angel!” Fred, Gunn and Wesley chorused.
“They were all saying it earlier,” Cordelia gestured towards the office with her coffee cup. “Just in case this prophecy thing comes true and we all die. You’re not going to want to hug, are you?”
Angel cleared his throat and sat back, shaking his head. “No.”
Cordelia went back to her desk. “God knows we’ve been through a lot together.”
“That’s really what I was trying to say, that we’ve been through so much together, you and me, as friends,” Angel stressed. “You’ve seen the – good – and the not so good.”
Cordelia turned around from placing her cup on the desk and said, “Just like you have in me, and for the record: the good I’ve seen so far outweighs the bad.”
Angel looked flattered, “Thanks, you too.”
Cordelia shrugged, “Hey, what are friends for?”
Just then, Cordelia’s body jerked against the desk knocking her coffee cup over and she nearly fell to the floor. Angel’s quick reflexes caught her in time. Her body rocked back in his arms as convulsions rocked her body.
“Christ, Cordy, can you hear me?” Angel asked, “Cordelia?”
She cried out as another wave of the vision knocked her for a loop. Her screams had Wesley, Gunn and Fred running out of the office. They skidded to a halt and watched helplessly as she trembled with the vision. After a full minute, she calmed down.
“Cordy?” Angel inquired tentatively.
“I’m fine,” she said when she could finally breathe again.
“What did you see?” he asked.
“Big spiny monster, at the corner of third and Venice, terrorizing a local hang out there,” Cordelia replied.
Angel looked up and nodded to the others. Gunn and Wesley made a beeline for the weapons cabinet and left the hotel. Fred went in search of the mop and a bucket.
Angel turned his attention back to Cordelia. She staggered to her desk and sat down heavily on the chair, holding her head in her hands. He went to the kitchen to get aspirin and some water for her.
Taking the glass and pill from him when they were handed to her, she said, “I have to get a mop and clean up the coffee.”
“Don’t worry about the coffee. Fred’s gone to get a mop,” Angel assured her. He watched her take the aspirin and tosses back the water. “They’re getting worse aren’t they?”
“No more than usual,” Cordelia lied.
“Cordelia.” It was a statement. “They are getting worse. Maybe you should go on a little vacation? Just for the weekend? Go up to Sunnydale and stay with Spike. You can use that tub, put your feet up and relax.”
Cordelia looked at him. “What if I have a vision while I’m there?”
“I doubt you will, but if that happens, call it in. You need to rest,” Angel stressed as he pulled her up out of the chair. “Go get your coat. I’ll drive you up there.”
“But what about Fred, you can’t leave her by herself,” Cordelia protested.
“Fred will be fine for a few hours,” Angel said, pushing her forward.
**************************
Sunnydale, Crawford Street Mansion
Spike was flipping through the channels when he heard pounding on his front door. He glanced at the clock and saw that it was 1:00 a.m. The pounding echoed through the mansion. Figuring that it couldn’t be the slayer, as she would have just walked in uninvited, Spike got up and answered it.
Yanking the door open, he said, “You don’t need to pound on the bloody --” He stopped when he saw Cordelia with her purse and an overnight bag slung over her shoulder. “Cordy?”
“Hey,” she said cheerily and gestured behind her, “Do you know there’s a parade of demons doing the bunny hop down Main Street?”
Spike gripped the door handle and leaned against the frame. He gave her a confused look, trying to work out why she was standing on his doorstep and how she got there. However, she didn’t wait for him to come to a conclusion.
“What the hell happened to this town? There’re demons dancing and singing. It’s like a really bad production of Our Town,” she said, walking past him into the house pulling a big bag on wheels behind her.
He watched her confused more than anything. “Were there moving plans I didn’t know about?”
“It reminds of that Halloween spell with the crazy costumes that turned people into what they were dressed as,” Cordelia rambled on, then stopped and spun around to face him. “So, where can I put my stuff?”
Spike had enough sense to close the door. He stuffed his hands in his pockets and looked at her. “Why are you here and how did you get here anyway?”
“Oh, Angel dropped me off,” Cordelia said as an afterthought.
Spike raised a brow. “Angel was here? And he didn’t stop to see me?”
“He thought you would still be mad at him,” she replied.
“Well I am. It’s only common courtesy to see a bloke you’re mated to when you’re in town,” Spike said as he rushed out to the street. Then, yelled out into the stark night, “Come back you wanker, can’t you face me! You would invade my mind but not talk face to face?”
“Spike, calm down, let’s talk about this!” Cordelia yelled from the doorway.
As he stalked back into the house and slammed the door, Spike asked, “Okay, cheerleader, why did Angel drop you off?” He looked at her with a critical eye, “You are okay, right? You’re not dying, are you?”
She shook her head, “Oh, nothing like that. I just had a bad reaction to the last vision I had. Angel thought it best that I rested.”
“Angel’s not looking after my girls at all,” Spike said quietly then eyed her with concern. “What’s wrong with you luv?”
“Don’t know, Spike,” Cordelia said. “The visions just seem to get worse every time.”
Grabbing the handle of the bag on wheels, he led the way to a vacant bedroom. “Come on, pet, let’s get you settled.”
“So, what’s the tub like?” Cordelia asked as she followed him. He gave her a smirk over his shoulder than sent shivers down her spine.
Spike left Cordelia alone to draw her own bath and went out to buy food fit for a human. His cupboards and fridge were bare since he had not expected to play host to a living, breathing person who wasn’t at death’s door.
He returned an hour later with a few bags full of food and a bag of take-out. He took his time putting everything away. While he was busy, her voice filtered in through the bathroom door and down the hall. He cringed at the horrible off-key noise. He walked down the hall and knocked on the bathroom door.
“I was walking with a ghost,” Cordelia’s voice could be heard singing off-key. “I said please, please don’t insist!”
“Hey, Cindy Lauper, when you finished with the mirror show, I got food out here,” Spike yelled through the door.
“Eep!” Cordelia shrieked in surprise and slunk down into the water, even though the bathroom door never opened. She was so used to Dennis the Ghost that Spike’s voice was unexpected.
Spike smirked at the closed door and walked back to the living room. A few minutes later, Cordelia came out and ran naked to the bedroom designated to her. Putting on a nightshirt and underwear under a full-length terrycloth robe, she went to the kitchen and fixed something to eat.
Armed with a heavy-duty paper plate, heaped with food, she took into the living room and sat on the couch with her legs curled under her.
“So, what are we watching?” she asked around the first bite.
Spike turned to address her and his mouth dropped open. “What are you eating on my couch?”
“Food?”
“I can see that! Why?” Spike asked agitated.
“Cause the TV’s in here and I thought the dining room would be too formal?” Cordelia suggested.
Spike growled softly. “You spill any of that in here and I don’t care if you are Queen C, you’ll be cleaning it up.”
“I don’t make a mess, Spike,” she said, sounding sure of her.
Spike raised a curious brow. “I’ve seen you eat, you dozy bint.”
“Okay, that one time it was because of a vision and the other time was because Gunn tried to kick Wesley under the table and got me instead,” she said defensively. “Oh hey, could you flip the channels? I want to see if there is anything on worth watching.”
Spike flipped through the channels until she shrieked and caused him to jump.
“Oh, leave it here!”
“Bloody hell,” Spike groaned when he saw it was Smallville.
**************************
Los Angeles, Hyperion Hotel
Angel plopped down on the settee in the middle of the lobby. After he returned from Sunnydale, Angel joined Wesley and Gunn in fighting the thing in Cordelia’s vision. Now he was just tired of it all. He sat back with his eyes closed, a half an ear to the team discussion of the Tro-Clan prophesies.
Cordelia tried to get him to go in and see Spike, talk to him. But, after the shower scene, Angel didn’t feel that it was a good idea. The way he saw it, Spike wouldn’t be too happy to see him on his doorstep. So, he’d let Cordelia out at the street and drove back to L.A. thinking of Spike the whole way. Their relationship seemed so much easier last year. Sure, there was Wolfram & Hart and Darla intruding, but there were good times too. And when they went on that retreat after Buffy died. He should have realized that things were going too good.
Angel was pulled out of his thoughts when he and the others turned at the sound of the front entrance doors banged and Lorne waltzed into the lobby.
“Hello, destroyers of all that’s good and enjoyable in this dimension,” Lorne greeted. “I figured I’d come and crash your little party, since my place looks like a bombed out shelter after the Martians hit it with napalm.”
Angel’s brow furrowed at that. “Martians have napalm?”
“Don’t know if they actually do and don’t care,” Lorne said offhandedly. “What I can say is that I have the Furies over there working their magic.” His gaze became wistful for a second, “Those three lovely beauties.” He shrugged. “Anyway, they’re over there recasting the sanctuary spell to prevent violence in the club. And this time I’m covering demons and humans. I’m opening the club again. Now if I can just keep you from tearing it asunder. Some of us demons are law abiding, peaceful and need to make a living, you know?”
“That’s great, Lorne!” Fred said cheerily.
“So, what are you up to, anything interesting?” Lorne asked.
“Some prophecy Wesley found,” Gunn replied.
“The Nyazian Prophecies mention a Tro-Clan. I’m researching it now,” Wesley said distractedly.
“It’s supposed to be here about now,” Fred added.
“Born out of darkness to bring darkness,” Lorne translated. “Huh. It’s never a sunshine-y meadow in your neck of the woods, is it?”
Angel threw up his hands and fell against the backrest of the settee, “Great, the arrival of the scourge of mankind. What else could possibly go wrong? These stupid prophesies! You can always interpret them a hundred ways from Sunday.” He looked at Fred. “How do we even know your calculations are correct?”
“I don’t. I’m still working on them,” Fred replied and went back to typing equations. After a moment, she looked up. “Can I just say something?” She stood up and walked over to lean on the reception desk. “Screw this and whatever destiny throws our way. If this evil thing comes, we’ll fight it. And, we’ll keep fighting it until we whoop it. ’Cause destiny is just another word for inevitable and nothing’s inevitable as long as you stand up, look it in the eye, and say ‘you’re evitable!’” Everyone stared at her in silence. The scrutiny made her blush. “Well, you—you catch my drift.”
Lorne stared at her in awe. “Wow. I like her so much!”
“I want to see these prophecies myself, and your calculations, Fred, and anything else we got on this,” Angel said as he stood up and walked over to the desk.
***************************
Sunnydale, Crawford Street Mansion
“Cordy, why are you making me watch this?” Spike asked.
“I’m not making you watch anything. You’re the one with the remote,” Cordelia said.
“Just like a woman. Force me to stay on the channel of your choosing, but I’m the one with the control. Are you sure you aren’t a dominatrix in secret, pet?” Spike asked.
“Well, turn it over if you don’t want to watch The Real World,” Cordelia said.
“And risk having my balls handed to me? Not a chance,” Spike scoffed.
Cordelia snatched the remote from him and put it on HBO with some odious movie that had gratuitous violence. “There, better?”
Just then, a pounding on the door echoed through the house. Spike’s head fell back against the couch and he groaned. Cordelia looked at him.
“Aren’t you going to answer that?”
“Not if I can bloody well help it. For a supposedly quiet little town, there are a lot of unwanted social calls,” Spike said and then grunted when she elbowed him in the ribs.
“Fine, I’ll answer it,” she said and got up. She stepped over his propped up legs and headed for the door.
She opened it just as Buffy was about to slam it open from the other side. Cordelia watched as Buffy marched in the house, oblivious to her presence, “Rude much? Hello to you, too. I see you still haven’t learned any manners.”
She shut the door and went back to the living room. Buffy was there, standing over Spike with her hands on her hips and an annoyed expression. Spike looked at her with indifference.
“The sun sets and she appears,” he addressed Cordelia while gesturing towards Buffy. “Something I can do for you, Slayer?”
“I don’t know if you’ve been outside this mausoleum of a house in the last twenty-four hours, but the whole town is under some sort of spell, where there’s singing and dancing,” Buffy said.
“It’s like a horrible musical out there, if you ask me,” Cordelia said, returning to her seat next to Spike.
“Well, no one asked you,” Buffy sneered. “Why are you here anyway, Cordelia?”
“Trying to have a relaxing weekend retreat,” Cordelia commented.
“So no singing or dancing here?” Buffy said, addressing Spike.
“Nope,” he took a swig of his drink, “Can say we remain immune to the town’s latest epidemic. Want a drink?”
“A world of no,” Buffy said, remembering the last time she drank with him. “So any idea what’s causing this?”
“Oh, that’s it then?” Spike raised a brow. “You’ve just come to pump me for information?”
Buffy’s brow furrowed in confusion, “What else would I want to pump you for?” Realizing what just came out of her mouth, she cringed. “I really just said that, didn’t I?”
“Yeah, well . . . don’t want to bore you with the small talk,” Spike shrugged and jabbed a thumb in the general direction of the front door. “I don’t know a thing, glad you could stop by. Get out.”
Buffy frowned at Spike’s sharp reply. “What’s up? You’re all bad moody.”
“It’s nothing,” Spike sighed heavily.
“What?” Buffy asked again.
“Oh, Miss Cry-Buffy comes here, walks in without a word, just to have a stand off, and says Spike is in a bad mood?” Cordelia said as she surveyed the scene.
“So, the ex-Queen C, the deposed Queen of Sunnydale High complains about how I treat Spike?” Buffy shot back.
“I’m still Queen C, just not of this town,” Cordelia rolled her eyes heavenward, “Thank God!”
“Yeah, she’s quite the little Hollywood starlet down in L.A.,” Spike teased.
“Shut up, Spike,” Buffy snapped.
That got Cordelia’s hackles up. She stood up and with her hands on her hips, crowded into Buffy’s space. “Spike was better off with us, we were a team! He came here reluctantly to help you. Is he a member of your team? No! You’re mean to him. Expect him to jump when you call. There’s no incentives, no friendships,” Cordelia ranted.
“I didn’t ask him to come back,” Buffy yelled.
“You may not have asked him to come back, but you sure as hell didn’t say no. You have your Scoobies to question and do research for you. They should be getting good at it by now. You don’t need Spike.”
“If he’s going to be living in my town he better make himself useful,” Buffy said as she glared at a smirking blonde menace.
“I can’t believe I tried to be friends with you!” Cordelia yelled back. “You only want people around that can be useful to your mission. No wonder Angel left you! You’re selfish, inconsiderate . . .”
“Look who’s talking? You were a complete snobbish bitch in high school. We were only useful to you when you needed us to save you from the weekly Big Bad,” Buffy shot back.
Spike took a long swig of his drink, set it down on the end table and got to his feet. He edged closer to the squabbling women and put his hands up in a placating gesture. “Ladies, ladies, as much as I appreciate it, there’s no need to fight over me. Really, I’m flattered that I could cause this much trouble among the populace. As entertaining as it is to watch you two verbally battle this out, and I was hoping to witness a possible Jell-O-wrestling match in my living room . . . Can we get back to the issue at hand like the Scoobies? Maybe they can come up with something.”
Both girls stood their ground glaring at each other. Spike carefully moved to wrap his arm around Buffy’s shoulders and steered her towards the door. “You better go Buffy, Cordy needs to rest.”
Buffy resisted Spike’s escort and spun back around to face Cordelia. She stepped closer to examine her face. “You are looking a little peaked around the eyes. Makes someone wonder what you’ve really been doing in L.A.”
“None of your business, Buffy!” Cordelia snapped. “This is your town. What happens in L.A. has nothing to do with you.”
Spike stepped behind Buffy and pushed her towards the door. “Okay! It’s been nice seeing you, Slayer. It’s been fun. We should do it again sometime. Now, why don’t you go find your watcher and merry band of researchers to help hunt down the evil demon that turned our fair town into a wacky version of Bed Knobs and Broomsticks?”
“Spike I wasn’t finished!” Buffy said as she was herded towards the door.
Spike opened said door and shoved her out onto the doorstep. “Yes, you were. Have a nice night,” he said before shutting the door in her face and locking it.
He sagged back against the door and breathed a sigh of relief when he heard Buffy walk away. He was sure that she’d be kicking on the door and throwing a fit. He looked up when he heard Cordelia walk closer and stop in the doorway leading to the living room.
“Jeez, you’d think she’d matured. With her being dead and all. Who does she think she is? Why do you put up with that?” Cordelia saidas she leaned against the entryway.
“If anything, our little Buff still has some growing up to do. She is of the mindset that she’s the only one chosen to fight evil and the rest of us better fall in line or get out of the way,” Spike said as he pushed away from the door and walked past her into the living room, “As for why I put up with it? Ask your former boss.”
Cordy realized she had made a slight mistake. What with Angel bringing her here to be looked after – or as Spike might think, babysat – reminding him why he was here with Buffy and the rest of the Scoobies. It wasn’t painting Angel in a good light.
“Does Angel know she’s like that?” Cordelia asked as she followed Spike back to the couch.
Spike scoffed as he raised his glass to take a drink. “Does he know? He still views her through the rose-colored glasses of his first love and soul mate. He still thinks she is the sweet sixteen-year-old he fell in love with and started acting like a lovesick teenager over. He doesn't know the real Buffy. Even after all this time, he is still the same old Buffy-whipped Angelus.” He emptied the glass and stared at it with disdain. “God, I could use a drink.” He glanced over at Cordelia who watched him with a devastated expression. “Want a stiff drink, luv? I know I’m going to have another one.”
Spike strode over to the bar and poured himself a whiskey, downing it in one gulp from a tumbler glass. Feeling Cordelia’s eyes on him, he turned his head to look at her. She still had the same distraught look on her face. Pouring himself another drink, he turned completely towards her and leaned on the bar.
“Don’t give me that look, Cordy. I don’t need your pity. I don’t need anyone’s pity. Angel and I have had a century of women coming between us. Buffy isn’t the first and she won’t be the last.” Cordelia’s expression shifted to surprise. “Oh, don’t give that one either, princess. I never expected hearts and flowers from him. Our relationship is what it is.”
Cordy raised tired eyes to Spike, she was still not back to her full strength after the vision that had sent Angel bringing her to Spike. There was more to be said. Spike and Angel had more of a relationship than Spike thought. She was a woman, and spent a lot of time with Angel. She knew the depths of his feelings for Spike. Angel had a soul. Spike was still thinking about Angelus, not her Angel.
“Spike, Angel’s different. He’s not Angelus,” Cordelia started to say.
Spike set the tumbler down on the bar top harder than he intended, causing her to jump. “Don’t give me that ‘he’s different now that he has a soul’ bit. I know him a lot better than you do, pet. Angel may be at the forefront, but Angelus is inside him, deep down. And Angel is more worried about Buffy. He thinks he’s making big sacrifices for the greater good, damn anything else.”
Spike gestured wildly as he started on another rant. “I told him when Darla came back into the picture, that when he finally decided what he wanted he knew where to bloody well find me. Well, guess what? Enter petite blonde number two, with her shampoo commercial hair and her damsel-in-distress pout, and BAM!” He clapped his hands with a resounding smack that echoed through the room. “He’s off panting at her heels and what about me? He has me playing babysitter to the little chit until he deems her fit to be on her own.”
Cordy knew that Fred’s campaign, as well as her own, was hitting a rough spot. They were working on Angel, but Spike was a hard nut to crack. They had history that neither girl knew about. The mention of Darla reminded her of that.
“There has to be something, Spike,” she implored.
“I told him that I finally felt like I belonged in L.A. The next thing I know he’s shipped me back here with Buffy. I’ll rot in soddin’ hell before I open myself up like that again. You see kindhearted Angel trying to make amends for his sins and that’s great. But, I know the truth. The way I see it, he’s trying to ease a guilty conscience. Well, he can take that guilty conscience and stick it as far as it will go in his oversized, ego-inflated --”
“Enough Spike!” Cordelia yelled, cutting him off as she rubbed her temples.
His face fell and he went over to her. Wrapping his arm around her shoulders, he guided her back to her bedroom. “Oh pet, of course you’re still tired. Shouldn't lay this on you. Come on, let’s get you some rest.”
Spike opened the door and ushered her inside. He was about to help her into bed when she stopped him.
“Spike, I can climb into bed on my own. I’m not sick, just worn out,” Cordelia said.
“You can take the robe off in front of me. Spent plenty of time playing nursemaid to Drusilla,” Spike shrugged as he turned the bedcovers down.
“No, that’s fine. If you could just give me some privacy,” Cordelia hedged.
He looked up at her and came into eye contact with her robe-covered bust line.
“Are you naked under there?” he wiggled his brows.
“Jeez, Spike! Just get out,” she said, pushing him towards the door.
“You are! You’re completely naked under there and have been the whole night. Sitting on the couch next to me, eating . . . naked!” Spike said as she pushed him out the door.
“I’m not naked!” she said as she slammed the door shut behind him.
“Too late, pet,” he chuckled. “I already have a good image in my head of what you might look like!”
*************************
Los Angeles, Hyperion Hotel
“Uh-oh,” Fred said behind her laptop. She tentatively looked up at the assembled members of Angel Investigations, sans Cordelia. The remaining trio looked at her waiting for her to continue. “Remember before when I said I thought that maybe, possibly, perhaps I might have been off in my earlier calculations? And you asked Wes if he thought if the Tro-clan was prophesied to arise or be born and he said it could be both? And we all know that the Latin for arrive is arripare, to come to the margin or shore, or possibly in this instance simply to come to, as from a deep sleep?”
“Fred!” Angel and Wesley interrupted the babble.
“Right, I believe that whatever this thing is, it’s arriving right about . . .” she looked at her watch, “three, two . . . now.”
**************************
Under a Busy Section of Los Angeles, Night
In a chamber pillars, a stone statue and two bowls used as ceremonial sconces formed an equilateral triangle in the center of the room, supported underground lighted by torches, with a ceiling.
A demon walked into the room and stopped in front of the statue. “The weight of time is heavy on the world. And all men born must die. But, there are worlds unknown where dreamers dream and sleepers sleep, and patiently await. As pledged in Celadon by Cod-she,” the demon stepped back and threw powder at the statue. One shall awaken in the first year of the final century. That one, who lived before and joined Cod-she in the great sleep. Arise, as was promised and foretold. Arise. - Arise!”
Nothing happened. The demon turned away and walked over to one of the flames, using it to light his cigarette. He turned back to watch the statue as he smoked. He checked his watched and took another drag.
Suddenly the room began to shake and blue light flashed. The eyes of the statue suddenly turned into two open, human eyes. The statue cracked then crumbled to the ground in a cloud of dust. The demon put out his cigarette and walked over to the figure huddled in the middle of what’s left of the statue.
“Welcome to the twenty-first century,” the demon greeted as he crouched down and put a hand on the figure’s back. “Angelus is here. You’ll see him soon. You haven’t used your muscles in a very long time. It will be a while before you’re strong enough to . . .”
The figure suddenly got to his feet, “Just tell me where he is.”
An hour later, Holtz sat in a chair watching the last two hundred years of history play across the strange device, Sahjhan called a television set. Said demon stood behind him, watching his reaction to seeing world history in a nutshell. He met the time traveler a millennia ago when the demon promised him revenge on Angelus for what the vampire and his companion, Darla, did to his family.
“I know it seems like only a moment to you,” Sahjhan said. “But, two hundred and twenty-seven years have passed since our agreement. Empires have rose and fallen. Mankind has harnessed the power of the sun, walked on the moon, and turned arid deserts into fields of green.”
“What of England? Has it survived the years and destruction?” Holtz asked.
“Yes. It went through a rough patch about sixty years ago, but it’s mostly unchanged. There’s still warm beer, boiled meat, and bad teeth. That’s why I moved to LA. Have you followed this part of the history: American Revolution, manifest destiny, westward expansion, and the Beach Boys?” Sahjhan inquired.
“I understand enough. One thing baffles me,” Holtz gestured at the TVs, “These visions, wars, the weapons of destruction. How is it no one has killed Angelus or Darla?”
“That’s why I brought you here, remember?” Sahjhan said, “Because your fate and their fate are entwined.”
Holtz had enough of the images flickering on the screen. He was ready to hunt Angelus down and pay for the atrocities against his family. “Let’s go. Let’s finish this. I want Angelus.”
Sahjhan stepped closer. “I know. I want him, too. But we’re going to do it right. I haven’t waited two and a half centuries to mess it all up.”
“You’ve been tracking them this entire time?” Holtz asked surprised.
“Yes, but not in the way you imagine. There are other dimensions, other worlds where time behaves differently. I have an ability to navigate those dimensions,” Sahjahn explained.
“And is that why you haven’t aged?”
“That, and I had a little work done, mostly around the eyes,” Sahjhan replied glibly. “Now, get some rest. You’re going to need it.” With that, he left Holtz to watch the images on the many television screens.
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