It was hard to believe that only a few years ago Cordelia Chase would have scoffed at the idea of some physical training to sort out her thoughts and refocus. First of all, sweating. Not exactly on her list of favorite things to do, especially when it meant makeup reapplication. Second, what was she? A Zen-Buddist? Gathering crystals and wearing long, gauzy skirts like a hippie? No, thank you very much. That kind of thing was for weirdoes.
Yet here she was, a current member of the weirdo troupe.
Taking a practice swing with the sword she closed her eyes and focused not on the sounds of dripping water in the hotel basement, but of her own breathing, turning her energy inside until the movements began naturally. Bring the sword down, exhale, turn, check stance, inhale, forward swoop, turn, stab, exhale…
It was sort of like cheerleading, when she thought about it. The precision part, anyway, but also the methodic movements, the grace of it. Okay, so cheerleading wasn’t always graceful, but you couldn’t be a cheerleader if you didn’t have at least some grace. If you didn’t know what you were doing in either sport you’d seriously hurt yourself, or someone else. And cheering was certainly cathartic. If you were pissed you just yelled extra loud and looked like you were super enthusiastic, so long as you plastered a smile on your face.
Training was like that. Great for getting out that angst. Mostly, it was escape, just as cheerleading had been. Sure, being a cheerleader had had its perks…dating the cutest guys, getting to be in front of a crowd, the outfit that perfectly showed off her tanned legs…
Swordplay didn’t really involve any of that, now that she thought about it. But never in cheerleading had she had such a sense of power, of strength, even when performing the Indie Pyramid, the toughest pyramid known to the sport.
And you didn’t get a sword to hack someone to death with in cheerleading. Typically, anyway. Then again, on the hellmouth it probably wouldn’t have surprised her.
Keeping her balance she began working the motions Angel had taught her, what seemed like years ago these days, a sheen of sweat forming on her forehead as she worked.
She’d come down here to think about Angel, not about the finer points of swordplay vs. high school extracurricular activities.
God… What a mess. Her emotions were jumbled, her heart was pulling her in two separate directions, and frankly, she didn’t really know what to make of this situation. It had been so clear when she’d lost her memory. The idea of she and Angel? Laughable. Highest form of comedy. He was too…broody, too somber, too… Angel. Her friend. Not boyfriend. Just friend. What in the hell had changed that? Thinking back over the events of the past few years, she couldn’t come up with anything.
So why this sudden twisted notion between the two of them that there was something, well, between the two of them? In whose warped mind had that sprang up? Certainly not hers. She’d appreciated Angel, that she’d admit. The man was definitely good-looking. And she had a fondness for a nice chest, something he surely possessed. He was smart, yeah, not a total doofus. But, and never had she thought she’d get to this point, suddenly a nice body and a pretty face weren’t enough. Hadn’t she proven that with Xander and again with Doyle? She, Cordelia, had layers. Mature, intelligent layers.
“Your grip is off.”
Cordy wasn’t surprised to hear his voice and didn’t stop her fluid movements as she brought the saber up and around, pointing it at Angel’s heart.
“Not so much,” she countered, sliding her pinky down just another millimeter despite her protest.
He glanced down at the sword in her capable hand, a hand he himself had trained, and pushed the blade aside gently. “Maybe.”
“Did you need something?” she asked, retrieving a towel and swiping it across her damp brow.
“I thought we should talk, finally,” he began, sticking his hands in his pockets.
She cast an eye in his direction. “You’re looking mighty serious. I’m guessing this isn’t about giving me a raise.”
“It’s about us.”
Nodding, she took a seat, sweeping out a hand and inviting him to do the same. He remained standing, his expression all but unreadable. “That bad, huh?” she asked him finally.
“We’re friends, right?”
“Of course,” she nodded, taking a swig from her water bottle. “Always. First and foremost.”
“I think we need to figure out if we’re more than that, Cordy. Before someone gets hurt.”
Angel hadn’t been blunt with her in quite a while. It was a pleasant change in personality. “Probably not a bad idea.”
“Before you went away, we were going to meet.”
She nodded. “I was going to tell you…how I felt.”
“How did you feel?”
Evenly she met his gaze. “I thought I was in love with you.”
Angel’s expression didn’t falter. “And now?”
She stared at him another moment before looking away. “I’m not sure, Angel. So much has happened.”
“You went away for months, so did I. We came back and our memories were gone…”
“And Buffy was here,” she said pointedly. “All those feelings you had for her three years ago were right back in the mix, front and center.”
“This is about you and me.”
“And yet somehow it still manages to involve her, like always,” Cordelia countered. “Angel, I know how you felt about her. I was there, remember? I lived it. Even when you were psycho-boy and slaughtering half of Sunnydale, all you could think about was her. You weren’t so much interested in hurting us, though I’m sure that was a perk, so long as it got to her.”
“That was a long time ago--”
“Not so long. Twenty-four hours ago it was very real again, wasn’t it? All that pain you went through. It took me a long time to understand what you did, how it must have hurt to have what you wanted and to walk away from it. I watched you, that entire first year in LA, mourning over her. And then again…every time you’d come back from Sunnydale after that, you were different. When she died… I was sure it was the end of you, too. And then you came back from Sir Lanka, all…fixed. But you weren’t, were you? It was all an act.”
“I mourned her death and I moved on, Cordelia,” he tried again. “I thought we were talking about us.”
She let out a snort. “See how even when it’s supposed to be about us, somehow Buffy’s still there?” Cordelia paused, trying to be rational. “Angel, I care about you. I’m just not sure in what way.”
“Cordy… What we were feeling…”
“I’m not sure it matters anymore,” she said simply, her eyes sad. “I’m not sure it ever did.”
“You can’t mean that.”
She nodded. “I think I can.” Swallowing she turned her back to him so he wouldn’t see her tears. “I had a dream earlier, Angel. Doyle came to see me. It couldn’t have been real, obviously, even though I could practically smell the ale on him. He told me he approved of us, you and me, being together. Romantically.”
“Doyle?”
Wiping at her eye she turned back around. “Yeah. The jerk never visits me and when he does it’s not with lottery numbers, it’s with love advice.”
Angel’s lips quirked. “Some ghosts have no shame.”
“Tell me. The point is, Angel… A lot of people seem to think that you and I are a natural fit. Groo, Fred… I swear, if I had to hear one more time about how you and I had warrior-fate I was going to headbutt her. But Doyle… He was trying to give me his approval, help nudge me in the right direction, but instead it was like a wake-up call, you know? Especially after the memory spell. You and I have changed a lot in the past three years, you realize that? I mean…since when am I nurturing and the mother figure? That’s not me. I don’t watch my mouth, I say what I think and damn you all if you don’t like it. Doyle putting his two cents in just opened my eyes. All these people were telling me what they thought was my future but no one was considering how I might really feel. Or what I might want.”
Angel shifted on the balls of his feet. “What are you saying?”
“I’m saying… Now might not be our time, Angel. I’ve had a lot of people telling me how I should feel…and with Buffy here I know you’re not thinking with a clear mind. I think we need to take a step back and be friends for a bit again. See where that goes.”
“And if I don’t?” His eyes were sharp on hers.
“You don’t have a choice,” she told him.
Angel cursed when the door to the basement opened and Cordelia looked at him in surprise, so unnatural was his reaction. The pounding feet of Connor and Dawn stampeded down the stairs. “This is the training…oh. Hey,” Connor mumbled. “I didn’t know anyone was down here.”
Cordelia’s eyes ticked to his. “We just finished. Train away,” she told him, putting the sword away and meeting Angel’s eyes again. “Right, Angel?”
He nodded silently, hands still in his pockets as she walked past him and up the stairs.
“What was all that about?” Dawn asked uneasily.
Angel glanced at her. “Nothing.” Avoiding their gazes he followed Cordelia up the stairs.
“Okay, that was weird,” Dawn muttered. “What’s with them?”
“Who knows?” Connor shrugged. “Probably lover’s quarrel.”
Dawn laughed. “Right. That’ll be the day.” Connor’s expression didn’t change and she grinned at him. “Them? Please. I mean, Cordy’s really pretty, but hel-lo? Personality stands a little to be desired. Plus, Angel can’t have a girlfriend. I think.”
Connor’s brow crinkled in confusion. “What are you talking about?”
“You know,” Dawn insisted. “’Cause of the curse.”
“Yeah…I guess. But why does that mean he couldn’t have a girlfriend?”
Her face screwed up and she shrugged uncomfortably. “When you can’t have a lasting, physical relationship, I hear it tends to make things a little difficult, romance-wise. You know that story, right? He lost his soul, now he can’t have sex or he’ll lose it again?”
“Somehow I managed to get here,” he pointed out.
“Oh…yeah. I guess you did. Huh,” she realized. “I hadn’t thought about it that way. But still. Angel would never look at Cordelia. He used to not be able to stand her. I read Buffy’s diary once…okay, more like once a week, and there used to be this whole thing on how Cordy would constantly throw herself at Angel but he didn’t want anything to do with her ‘cause she was so ditzy and high-maintenance. Plus he was totally gaga for my sister.”
“Maybe she was wrong,” Connor told her. “Are we going to talk about this all day or do you want me to show you that broadsword I was telling you about? If we find one in the right weight you could--”
Dawn held up a hand. “Trust me, Buffy wasn’t wrong. I was there, I remember what Cordelia was like. Tongue of venom? Hated just about everyone if they’re not rich and powerful? Completely stuck on herself, never thought of anyone else?”
Connor’s shoulders slumped and he resigned himself to having this conversation. “That’s not Cordelia,” he told her with a weary sigh.
“You’ve got to be joking. Cordelia? Queen C? Super Bitch of Sunnydale High?”
“Maybe that was then, this is now,” he shrugged again and moved to the weapons closet. “You want a saber or what?”
“Hold on, wait,” Dawn ordered, striding across the room. “Are you kidding me? Cordelia Chase got a personality in the last few years?”
Connor sighed. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. She’s exactly like she was when I came here. A little testy sometimes, but you know, that’s most women from what I’ve seen,” he said pointedly. “Mostly she’s nice. To me, anyway.”
Dawn’s mind was working. “So when you said lover’s quarrel, you meant like… That was a joke, right?”
Connor stared at her. “I’m guessing English isn’t your first language. I said what I meant. They were probably talking about…you know… about them.”
“What them?” Dawn asked incredulously, eyes round. “Angel would never… With Cordy? And… No. No way.”
The boy before her backed up a step or two. “Okay, I don’t know if this is some teenage girl freak-out or what, but I’m gonna say it one more time. They were probably talking about them…being involved together or whatever you want to call it.”
“They’re a couple?!” she squeaked. “Like a romantic, girlfriend-boyfriend, couple? Does everyone know about this?”
He was staring at her as if she had three heads and decided speaking slowly and clearly was the safest option before the one head she did possess began to spin around. “I don’t know. They’re…really friendly, I guess. It’s no big deal. Just because I can’t stand him doesn’t mean everyone’s so enlightened. I heard Fred talking to Gunn about it once, so I guess the others know. I have no idea.”
“Not a big deal?” she screeched. “Are you kidding me?” Turning from him she began to pace. “Oh my God. Oh my God. Angel and Cordy. Cordy and Angel? Really? Really seriously? Really really, truly and factually? Oh my God. Oh my God.”
“Why don’t you sit down,” Connor suggested warily.
“I need to sit down,” she told him, not hearing him at all.
“Why is this such a big deal?” he asked when she’d plopped herself down onto a bench.
Dawn stared at him as if she’d never seen him before. “Are you completely deranged? Do you know nothing about history? Or rules about dating your friends ex’s? Or your ex dating the girl you hated all through high school?”
“No, I don’t,” Connor told her calmly.
“Well there are rules. Buffy and Cordelia weren’t what you’d consider best buds in high school. There were a few times I really thought Buffy might kill her, and vice-versa. You weren’t there for this whole Homecoming thing…it was nasty, just trust me. You don’t go after the guy your sworn enemy is involved with.”
“They’re not involved anymore,” he pointed out.
“Which brings me to the second rule,” Dawn told him testily. “Angel, he should know better! Even if the sworn enemy makes a play for the guy, the guy never crosses that line and gets involved with her! That’s like…sticking a knife in the sworn enemy’s heart!”
“Buffy and Angel aren’t sworn enemies…”
“No, but Cordy and Buffy are. Pay attention. Angel could never be in love with Cordelia because she and Buffy don’t get along. And Cordelia should never make a play for Angel because she and Buffy aren’t friends. Duh.”
Connor’s head swam. “Uh…okay.”
“Exactly,” she told him knowingly. “It’s perfect logic, which you would know if you’d attended an American high school, and which I’ll make allowances for since there’s no way you could have.”
“It’s nuts,” he told her.
She nodded. “Oh, completely. But that’s how it is.” She took a breath. “I don’t know what to do now.”
“About what?”
“I have to tell Buffy.”
“Why?”
She glared at him witheringly. “Because. This is big news. And it’s about Angel.”
“So?”
“So she’ll probably want to know. But I don’t want her to get hurt, either…”
Connor sighed, rubbing at his head that had started to ache sometime ago. “They’re not together anymore, why again should this matter to her?”
“Were you not paying any attention to what I just said? It’s the ex-boyfriend rules of dating. And if what you’re saying is true, Angel and Cordy are in serious violation of them.”
“But what difference is it going to make?” Connor asked. “If they’re not together anymore it doesn’t really mean anything, and it’ll probably just hurt Buffy’s feelings if what you’re saying is finally starting to make even a little bit of sense to me.”
Dawn watched him pityingly. “There is so much I have to teach you. Just, trust me. This is something she’ll want to know.”
He rolled his eyes. “Whatever. Just don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
Dawn headed to the steps, determined, before stopping abruptly causing Connor to bump into her. She turned to face him. “Maybe I should wait just a bit, see if I can pick up on anything.”
“Between Cordy and my dad?”
“Yeah. I’ll be like…Harriet the Spy. But less clumsy. Gather the information, form an analysis, then make an informed decision before I just burst in on Buffy and break her heart.”
Connor squinted at her. “Are you always like this?”
“Like what?” she asked defensively.
“So… Excited.”
Considering his observation for a moment she answered him with a grin. “Buffy says sometimes I’m even worse.”
