Homecoming
Day 1: Leaving
by Victoria Hayrabedian
Angel perched himself on the corner of Giles' desk and stared forbiddingly
at the Slayer. His ex-lover shifted uncomfortably under his merciless gaze.
"How long were you going to wait before you told me?" He asked quietly, his
face expressionless.
He had surprised Giles by turning up in the daytime, the Gem of Amara
glinting on his index finger. Beside him stood what Giles had supposed was a
clone of Cordelia - because he had never known the May Queen to be this
silent. Her brooding was almost as palpable as Angel's.
Once the Watcher had overcome his shock, he'd called around. Now Buffy sat
at his coffee table, staring into her long-empty cup of coffee. The vampire,
Angel, had managed to glare at everyone in the room simultaneously as he'd
asked his question; Giles was really glad that the question had not been
directed at him. He had suggested contacting Angel; Buffy had refused. *She*
should explain why.
The Slayer immediately turned to look at him. He groaned mentally, then
shrugged, unsure of where to go on this one. Buffy frowned and nodded at
him insistently. "Aaah," Giles said finally, running a hand through his
salt and pepper hair in a nervous manner. "Well, Angel, Spike has been only
missing for a couple of days... " He couldn't believe that he was arguing
*for* Buffy's recommendation -{{order! Like everything else said here...}} -
and, yes, it sounded just as pathetic coming from him as when Buffy had put
it forward. The Slayer flushed in evident embarrassment as he continued.
"And s-since he's not our prisoner anymore, it was his prerogative to
explore on his own..."
"He's helpless!" Angel interjected cuttingly. He stood to pace, his steps
short and brisk. His frown deepened to leave hard etches of worry into his
otherwise unmarred face. He glared at Buffy accusingly. "You left him -
helpless, unable to defend himself - you let him wander out on his own!"
The Slayer bolted forwards at this, shoving her chair back with a loud
scraping sound. Her face had gone deathly pale - in anger, Angel guessed,
both at him and at herself. "He's a *vampire*!" She ground out through
clenched teeth. "He's *not* a helpless child, even though you seem
determined to view him as one!" Her lips turned down in a cruel sneer.
"And since when are *you* so concerned with Spike's well-being? Last I
heard any other vamps got it right in the neck from you - and the little
Charlie's *Angel* here!" She cast a baleful glance at the corner of the
room where Cordelia Chase sat alone, her arms folded and her expression
disinterested. She gave no indication that she had even heard the Slayer.
Angel was not so easy-going. His brown eyes darkened until they were almost
ebony in his anger. He hissed slowly, "leave Cordelia out of this." His
expression darkened even more, outrage making his face so tight it seemed as
if it wanted to close in on itself. "And my feeling for Spike are -
well-documented. He is my childe; he is - at the moment - incapable of
doing anything particularly evil, and is thus someone who is, however
unwillingly, on 'our' side. And he is missing." It was as if a light had
been extinguished with those last words. The bravado dropped; Angel's face
crumpled with loss and confusion, and he stumbled to a chair, dropping his
spare frame heavily into it. Betrayal once again replaced fury in those
large brown eyes and the Slayer swallowed hard, fighting the bitter
remembrance.
{{Close your eyes...}} Her eyes clouded and she blinked hard, staring at
him intently, *willing* him to understand.
He met her gaze steadily. "I can't believe you didn't tell me, Buffy..."
He whispered after a long moment. There was pain in his voice - he himself
could hear it and so, he was sure, could the others - but all he truly felt
was a hollow ache in his left side - right where his heart was, if he chose
to use it. Spike's disappearance - Buffy's silence and her present obvious
anger towards him - his own feelings for both the Slayer and the missing
vamp... it was making his head hurt.
As if in response to his projected dejection, Buffy's anger also crumbled.
She sat back down again, snatching a cushion off the nearby couch and
hugging it close to her.
For three minutes Giles watched the two, off into their own little worlds of
betrayal and despair, then stood noisily and stalked to the kitchenette. He
proceeded to make several very noisy cups of tea, and returned five minutes
later, tray in hand, to the same dejected silence he had abandoned. He
sighed, handed Cordelia her Darjeeling, then headed for the couch. On it,
Willow and Xander sat in complete silence. In fact, they had both been
silent for the entire confrontation, save for Xander's initial comment of
"Vamp Central at the Giles residence!" upon finding Angel in the
ex-Watcher's living room. Willow accepted her Darjeeling gratefully and
immediately bit into the lemon as if seeking justification of the sour
expression on her face. Xander just stared moodily into his PG Tips and
helped himself to extra sugar.
His job as host complete, Giles sat back down at his desk, sipping his own
Earl Grey cautiously and pointedly ignoring the pair brooding around his
coffee table.
"So," he began conversationally, "how do you like Los Angeles, Cordelia? Are
you enjoying your time there? How is your acting career coming along?"
"I was going to tell you," Buffy said slowly, as if Giles had not spoken.
Her normally immaculate hair was swept back in a messy ponytail, blond
tendrils hanging about her face in a haphazard fashion. She looked as if
she might burst into tears at any moment, though Angel knew her better. The
Slayer did not cry unless the situation warranted it. And this particular
situation did not.
Yet.
"I swear - I wanted to, Angel. But after you left - and you and Spike
arguing - I mean, come on. I'm *still* having major trauma over the fact
that I'm playing best girlfriends with a psycho. An undead psycho, at
that..." She looked away, a blush staining her cheeks. Angel leant
forwards; the rest of the Scooby Gang watched, impassive.
"Go on," Angel prompted.
Buffy turned even redder. "Well - it's possible he took off because - well,
he just plain didn't like us." She stared at the table in mortification.
Angel looked at her, confused. That didn't sound like Spike... And what was
the deal with the whole blushing thing - oh, yeah. Popularity, or lack
there of. He sighed. Mortals and their inferiority complexes. Looked like
Buffy wasn't having that great a time at college... "Well - that doesn't
sound much like Spike. I mean, he'd stick out any situation for eventual
gain..." {{Any situation - except staying with Angelus,}} his brain
corrected. "I know him. No, something has to have been up. Something
important enough for him to go out on his own while he was defenceless..."
He dug around in his coat pocket.
Giles chose that brief pause to reenter the conversation. "If that's true -
t-then he could be in danger." His brow furrowed at the object Angel had
extracted from the dark recesses of his coat pocket.
The vampire waved the little cassette in the air, making sure that
everyone's eyes were on it. He directed his long-suffering look to Giles.
"I'm afraid that things have been moving very swiftly... Spike *is* in
danger - assuming that he hasn't 'fixed' himself, and is the cause of the
disturbances I have been hearing about." He walked over to the answering
machine and quickly switched the tapes. Pressing 'play', he cast a baleful
glance at the Slayerettes. "I woke to find this message on my machine last
night. I came down here as soon as I could."
From the tape emerged the distinct sounds of motorway traffic. Someone was
calling from a mobile phone while on the go. There was a brief pause,
followed by a loud blaring horn that made everyone in the room, apart from
Angel, jump - then a woman's voice came on.
The accent was thick, as deeply British as Giles' - and as common and rough
as Spike's. "Angel, luv. We have a problem. That brat kid of yours is
*seriously* not right in the head. I went down to the Docklands last night
to find me a bit o' rough to snack on, and ran into him at "The Old Goa".
The brat was sloshed off his head and horny as fuck; he was making some
moves on the barmaid. Looked like a bag o' skin and bones; almost skinny
enough to keep every tart in the place from making 'shag me now' eyes at
him. I suggest you get your puppy dog back home 'afore he gets in trouble
here - word on the street is, anyone who brings his head in will get the
East End for the next ten years fer free. It ain't no one high up asking
neither - 'e's just managed to piss off a hell of a lot of people 'ere.
Fucking hell, mate, I'd a' turned him in myself 'xcept I prefer Soho. Get
him home 'afore someone stakes him."
The message ended abruptly with the whirling of the rewinding cassette.
Angel spoke first. "That was - a friend of mine, who lives in London. She
was the one who saw Spike's potential, initially; you could say that she saw
herself as his godmother." The vampire tried to crack a smile at this. It
was like black ice melting across his face. "Naturally, Spike hates her
guts. He would like nothing better than to kill her, like he killed the
rest of his family. She's too strong for him, of course..." This time the
smile was genuine. "I think she has never stopped trying to look after him,
really. I mean, he is her childe as surely as he is mine..."
"You tried to kill him - and him, you..." Giles reminded him softly. Buffy
simply sat in silence. The other three occupants of the room may as well
have been carved from marble.
Angel grimaced. "Yes. That was - necessary. And he could ever forgive me
for 'killing' the old Angelus - even the new one was not what he wanted. He
was strong enough to get out on his own, make a mark - and I bound him to a
coven. Before then, I fought against him, tried to ruin all his plans.
Yes, he's angry. But -" he hesitated, unsure of how to put it. "He is my
creation. Whether he be monster or saint, he is my childe. More than a
fledgling or a minion. Much more." His eyes were shadowed. "If I had had to
kill him, I would have done so - but it wouldn't have changed the facts, or
the pain I would have felt because of his death. He is my first-born. I
love him."
There was a long silence at this. Buffy, beyond shock, beyond anger -
beyond *any* feeling - sat numbly in her chair and twisted the edge of her
Lycra top in her hands. Angel tried to look as if he could admit love and
not feel vulnerable. Giles fought the urge to ask if the vampire needed
privacy and beat a hasty retreat.
In the end, it was Willow who spoke. Her tone was calm, albeit confused.
"Why are you talking about him l-like that? H-he's not a child." She sat
next to Xander, her legs folded underneath her, cradling her mug of
Darjeeling. She met the confused stares of everyone in the room calmly, her
green eyes wide and her expression curiously placid. "I mean," she said,
taking a cautious sip, "even the woman on the tape sounded like she was
calling Angel to - to come and collect his three year old!" She shook her
head disapprovingly, red wisps flying. "He's not a child. He's a man.
Yes, he may be in trouble, but then again he may not; he may have just gone
off to be by himself and - and - drink a lot in London; and even if he *is*
in trouble, I don't think he'd like the way you are planning to rescue him."
She stared at Buffy solemnly as a sudden worrying thought occurred to her.
"We *are* going to rescue him, right, Buffy? I mean, I know you two are
still mad at each other - and me - for that very bad thing I did that I had
to bake for, but if he's in trouble, well, he's not really a vamp anymore -
right? - as he's been - been..." she faltered, running out of both words and
breath.
"Neutered?" Xander suggested helpfully, feeling as if he had permission to
join the conversation by Willow's outburst.
The redhead glared at him. "That's not a nice thing to say, Xander Harris,"
she admonished.
Xander stopped, his mug of tea halfway to his mouth. His eyes widened
comically as he realised that the redheaded witch was near to losing her
temper. Considering the level that Willow's calmness reached down to, this
was no small feat. "Willow has a boyfriend," he chanted immediately in his
most childish voice, eliciting an outraged gasp from the witch. Willow
promptly grabbed his mug of tea out of his hands, placed it carefully on the
coffee table, then turned on him and swatted him on the head with a
throw-cushion.
Across the room, Cordelia watched this by-play with the detached interest of
someone studying wild - if amusing - animals. She tapped a perfectly
manicured nail on the lacquered tabletop and looked at Angel inquiringly.
Feeling as though the solemn mood had dissipated somewhat, Angel hurried to
restore it. This frivolity reminded him too much of Spike... and this
wasn't a good thing. "Buffy..." he said softly, pointedly ignoring the
now-animated couch.
Buffy looked at him, her expression unreadable. "Yes?"
"I'm willing to go to him. Find out what's wrong. Hell, try and get him
self-sufficient again, if that's what he wants. Warn him to stay the hell
away from the States for the next ten or so years, then turn him loose." He
sighed, burying his head in his hands for a brief moment. {{I can't believe
I'm willing to turn him back into a killer - after all he's been through
with these kids. But it wouldn't be fair on him to keep him locked up like
this, would it?}}
Angel's expression darkened with both dread and resolve. "I'm willing to do
that. But as it is now..." he shrugged. "I don't think he'll listen. He's
stubborn. You all know him - you've spent time with him. I think that, in
his own twisted way, he respects you." He stopped here. He wouldn't -
couldn't - ask. Not for Spike. Not even for his first-born.
Buffy was shaking her head. Once again, it was Willow who spoke up. "Buffy
can't - she'd miss the first of the mock exams. But mine don't start until
two weeks from now... and Xander's on a night-course, so he doesn't have any
for ages. We can go with you. Giles can watch the Hellmouth, and Buffy can
study." She gave the vampire her "resolved" face.
And that is how a few hours later Xander Harris found himself in the aisle
seat of the economy class section of a British Airways plane. Next to him,
Willow slept soundly, listening to the "Dingoes Ate My Baby" album on her
Walkman, while beside her, Angel took full advantage of his new-found
invincibility to look at the clouds on sunrise. {{If Spike isn't dead when
we find him,}} Xander thought irately as he buried himself in his maths
book, {{I will kill him myself for - for - somehow being responsible for
Deadboy's return. As if having him around nearly every night wasn't
enough...!}}
He got to work on the Cartesian equations, but his heart wasn't in it. He
knew that he would have to improve his maths score if he was going to be
applying for Sunnydale University. However, at that moment, all he really
wanted to do was lean over, grab the vampire sitting one seat away from him,
and slowly strangle him to death.
{{I'm not prejudiced against the dead; I just don't think it's fair that
their being unused to the sunrise should get them the window seat.}} Only
four more hours until they landed.
*****
Terminal 4 of Heathrow Airport was busy. And noisy. And smelled of something
that was probably a cross between stale sweat and - well, fresh sweat.
Willow wrinkled her nose delicately as she grabbed for Angel's arm. The
vampire was hurrying to customs to try and persuade the officers there to
let them through as quickly as possibly. The bustling crowd around her
seemed comprised of tourists, returning tourists, departing tourists, and
some more tourists. They all seemed to be wearing Hawaiian shirts. Willow
clutched Angel's arm for dear life as he swept her through the current of
people.
Ten meters behind them, struggling with an empty trolley and wondering how
the hell he would be able to manage the loaded one without completely
humiliating himself in front of God, the world and Deadboy, was a very
tired, very sweaty, and very unhappy Xander. All Willow wanted to do was
talk to Angel. How had Oz seemed when the vampire had last spoken to him;
had Oz been in contact with either him or Cordelia; he *would* pass on any
message left by Oz, wouldn't he? It was sickening. And it meant that the two
stuck together and barely noticed Xander having to struggle with the
luggage, and the plane's toilet cubicle door, and the seat belt when
landing, and all these strange British people who were wearing Hawaiian
shirts instead of tweed... it made him mad. {{It's not fair!}} he whined
silently, fighting the urge to give the recalcitrant trolley a good kick.
{{I get stuck with the trolley, while Deadboy runs off with another gorgeous
wo-girl,}} he amended almost involuntarily, then grimaced. {{Well, she is.
Okay, so it was pretty obvious that she had slept with Oz, but, come on, she
still needs looking after.... protecting...}} His eyes narrowed as he
spotted Angel patting Willow's hand comfortingly. {{Especially from the
likes of *him*! Spike was good in one respect... none of the girls - or
women, for that matter! - made a move on him, and he didn't seem the
slightest bit interested in any of them either.}} A burly skinhead walked
into him and Xander oomfed painfully, glaring at the intruder. Icy blue eyes
glittered back. "Sorry... my fault..." Xander murmured and moved out of the
line of fire.
{{This isn't *fun*,}} Xander thought angrily as he abandoned the trolley
with a dirty look and jogged to catch up with the couple walking briskly in
front. {{This is even worse than algebra! A couple of weeks with Deadboy...
great. If Spike doesn't agree to return with us immediately, I will punch
him, throw him over my shoulder and *carry* him home!}} The image amused him
for a moment; right until Willow realised that he wasn't with them and
turned to him to wave. Angel also turned and beckoned him closer. {{...Said
the spider to the fly,}} Xander groaned mentally as he plastered a smile on
his face and ran up to them. "So, any progress on the skipping the
legalities part and sneaking into the country?"
Willow shook her head, her eyes wide and solemn. "Xander, you *know* we
weren't going to skip customs altogether. Angel asked the lady if we could
be checked quickly..." she leant in conspiratorially, "I think she likes
him."
{{Big deal, *everyone* loves Soulboy, the King of Angst.}} Xander grated
mentally. "They *all* like him. It's the gel. I bet he puts, like,
ferrofones in it or something," he said aloud.
Willow blinked at him and pushed a strand of coppery hair behind her ears.
"Ferrofones?"
"You know, those things they said that animals use to attract mates...
ferrofones."
Willow giggled. "That's pheromones, Xander, as well you knew!" She swatted
him playfully on the arm. "The big doofus act might work with Buffy and
Cordelia, but I know you better. You knew that word!"
Xander shrugged, seemingly uncaring. Inwardly, he smiled. {{Yes... whatever
Deadboy has with that poofy hair style of his... well, at least in Willow's
case I can compete with first hand experience!}} He grabbed Willow's arm and
half-dragged her to join Angel at the customs desk, where a smiling man with
a metal rod was waiting to screen them. The fact that, previously to Angel's
arrival, he had had no intention of chasing after *Willow* - well, except
for that small kiss, but that was ancient history - failed to cross his
mind.
*****
Angel smiled at the customs official disarmingly. "I would really prefer
*not* to remove my ring, if at all possible," he said, acutely aware of the
sunlight streaming in through the large windows. "It's - it's not really
mine, you see. It's my sister's -" he turned to wave a hand at Willow, who
was being pulled along the concourse by a strangely exuberant Xander. "She
gave it to me for my birthday." He raised a hand to cough discreetly. "I'm
afraid she got the size slightly wrong..." He tugged on the ring gently;
sure enough, it resisted his half-hearted attempts to remove it. "It would
be rather painful to try and remove it - without proper... lubrication." He
smiled, managing to make even that slightly underhand insinuation seem
innocent.
The portly woman melted under his gaze. "Oh, well... we don't want to
embarrass the young lady..." She gestured for her male companion to run the
metal rod over Angel's form; the vampire raised his hand to keep the ring
out of it's reach.
He came up clear, of course. Willow and Xander each had to remove their
crucifixes to go through the gate and blushed when told that their bags
would normally be opened. Angel smiled. It was pretty clear that Slayerettes
had to hide more than saucy underwear in their backpacks.
Strangely enough, their worry did not decrease when they were informed that
their luggage would only be passed through the scanner. In fact, Willow was
squirming... Angel filed this little observation away for further reference.
He'd done what he could; they had spent barely twenty minutes at the airport
so far. Another ten and they'd be away. {{Come on, Willow,}} he chided
mentally, {{don't tell me you packed stakes...}}
"If you'll put your bags here..." The male official indicated a conveyor
belt. Xander threw his bag down and picked it up again on the other side.
"You brought cricket gear all the way here?"
"Yeah, well... only those stick things... not the bat. The people we're
staying with, I figure they'll have plenty of bats, but what with their
living near the waterfront and all, they may lose the sticks..." {{And if
not, well, we can always sharpen the ends a bit....}} He smiled.
The official looked at him curiously. "We don't throw the sticks in cricket,
you know. It's the ball that's usually lost... just like in baseball."
Xander flushed. "Okay, sir..."
Angel carefully placed his bag on the conveyor belt. The scanner revealed a
thermos, a large crucifix, some kind of aerosol can and a pile of clothing.
Nothing too unusual. The official handed the bag back to the tall gentleman,
then motioned for his sister to place her bag on the conveyor belt.
Willow clutched her backpack like a life preserver and stared at Angel with
wide eyes. He stared back at her, puzzled. Come on, she wouldn't pack
anything they would find amiss.... would she?
Finally, she threw her bag down on the black belt and marched on, head held
high. Xander and Angel, as one, turned to look at what the scanner would
reveal. One large thermos... one large crucifix.... a lot of clothing... two
pairs of shoes.... three books.... some kind of gun.... and a dildo.
The entire airport turned to look at the small scanner.
*****
"Honestly, Willow, I didn't know you could be such a drama queen! It was not
the entire airport!" Xander sighed dramatically and lounged back in the
leather seat of the black cab the three had called. Angel was glued to the
window; never having seen London in the daylight, he undoubtedly wanted to
know what he missed. Plus, it was much easier to eavesdrop than to get
involved in the conversation.
Willow hugged her bag to her chest and stared miserably at the floor. She
hadn't known British customs procedures; the official at the American
airport had simply dug around in her bag and raised an eyebrow. Here, the
entire airport had decided to look in on her private things.
"Besides," Xander continued, slightly agog at the monuments they were
passing, "I thought they were more concerned with that gun of yours.
Whatever possessed you to pack a *water pistol*?"
"You can fill it with holy water," Willow said in a little voice, "which
means you don't have to get close to the vamps to get them to, um, go away.
Oz thought of it."
{{Trust Oz,}} Xander thought with amusement. The little incident at the
customs office had brightened his day considerably. He hadn't known that
Willow could turn such an endearing shade of red. "Don't worry about it,
Will. I'm sure you're not the first person to pack a vibrator into their
holiday luggage..."
Willow groaned quietly and buried her face in her hands. "I'm going to turn
you into a frog for being mean, Xander Harris, just wait and see."
"Not that I'm complaining, but could you please do it after we find Spike?"
Angel interjected. He'd turned back from his monument-spotting.
"Recognise anything? Or has it all suddenly become modernised,
commercialised, right down to the.... hang on a minute. What's a 'Tango'?"
Xander stared, entranced, at the flickering lights that proclaimed with
pride, "You've Been Tangoed!"
Angel sighed. "It means that we're not going to be visiting Oxford Street if
I have anything to say about it." {{Which I do,}} he added silently.
{{They're acting like this trip is a holiday... an excursion. Have either of
them thought about where we might start looking for Spike? No.}}
"So, any ideas on where to start looking for the Bleached Wonder?" Xander
asked, still watching the shops streaming past his window. "I mean, we're
pretty much tourists here - we've no idea where to even *start* to look for
him. I have no idea where the Dockworld is, or wherever that lady friend of
yours said Spike had been last spotted. And I thought Soho only had sex
shops?"
Willow giggled. "That's *Docklands*, Xander! And Soho happens to overlap
with London's Chinatown, isn't that right Angel?"
"Right," the vampire confirmed. "But I'm afraid that it being the 'red
light' district is the reason it's frequented by vampires."
"Easy lays?" Xander hazarded.
"Easy prey," Angel clarified. He smiled grimly. "If you're out after dark in
Soho, chances are you're either a late - and very tired - shopper, a lost
tourist, a whore looking for a customer - or a 'customer' looking for a
whore. Any of the above would make a decent meal and wouldn't put up much of
a fight." He looked out into the bedecked scenery. "We won't find Spike
there."
"Then where?"
Angel's eyes came to rest on the huge wheel that intruded on the London
skyline. It wasn't quite ugly, but it certainly wasn't a pleasant sight.
Large pods clung to the wheel's perimeter; it would be at least a couple of
more weeks before the giant Millennium Wheel would be operational. And past
it, almost dwarfed in comparison, was a tall, stick-thin building, with a
spire so high that it had a flashing beacon to warn air traffic of it's
night-time existence. Canary Wharf. Somewhere in the smog below, spread out
all around it like a giant blanket over most of the murky Thames, lay the
Docklands.
"He's gone back home. He's gone to Whitechapel."
*****
"Sales!" Buffy squealed, her eyes lighting up. She took an involuntary step
forwards. Giles swiftly grabbed her left arm, Cordelia her right, and they
forcibly dragged her away from the shoe shop and out of the mall. Buffy
offered no resistance until they made it to Giles car. Once there, she
turned to them, eyes vicious. "Could you have *done* that in a *more*
humiliating and *patronizing* way?!" She hissed, glaring at them both. The
Watcher frowned and shook his head slightly, not in answer to her question,
but more in the manner of a mental confirmation of an earlier suspicion.
Buffy wheeled on him. "What? What Giles? What now? You suddenly remembered
an ancient rule that Slayers don't shoe shop? Or perhaps you realised that
the world was going to end in three minutes and needed to get me to the car
so I could save humanity - yet again! - by changing someone's flat tyre?
*What*?"
"I realised I wanted to go home. I promised to take you out to buy school
books - although why you could not simply go to the University library is
beyond my obviously limited understanding." Giles' voice was very soft and
absolutely deadly. "I did not promise to wait for three hours with you while
you tried on shoes you could not possibly afford on your student loan, be
persuaded into buying them to humour you, and spend the next three hours
wondering why I'm not behaving the way a Watcher *should*." He flashed a
quick glance at Cordelia, who had already backed off several steps to give
the two some privacy. "I am not your Watcher anymore, Buffy. Even when I
was, you treated me with a certain amount of irreverence I allowed for
because of your youth and upbringing. But you know you are supposed to
study - not shop. Especially not shop with *our* money, when you have spent
the last two hours of this little excursion insulting Cordelia and snapping
at me." His frown was etched into his face. "I will not be spoken to with
such disrespect, Buffy. Not by you. And I will not tolerate such a cavalier
and obviously calculatedly insulting attitude towards my guests."
"You - you don't care if I insult Spike..." Buffy's voice had dropped to a
hurt whisper.
Giles sighed. "And I *should* care. Spike isn't... the best tenant in the
world. He doesn't pay rent for one thing. It's a different case, Buffy. Why
are you and Cordelia on such bad terms?"
Buffy scowled, then hung her head. "Sorry I was rude to you, Giles. I didn't
mean to be." She quickly turned and opened the car door - deliberately
sitting in the back so she would not have to converse with either Giles or
Cordelia. The Watcher sighed and got in the driver's seat, motioning to
Cordelia to get in. Barely a minute later they were heading home.
This was a bad day. She missed everyone. They had been gone barely a day,
and she missed them. It was stupid. Right now, she even had Giles- when she
had run away, she had been on her own. It hadn't been this bad.
{{Oh, God, Angel....}} She thought wretchedly, hugging herself. {{Damnit,
Angel, why did you have to come back...}} She'd missed him so badly at first
she'd thought she was dying every day, bit by bit. In a way, it was worse
than his being torn away from her by Acathla... much worse. He'd *chosen*
not to be with her. *Chosen* not to love her. Her stomach twisted with a
sudden pain. *Chosen* to go to LA. with Cordelia Chase.
She hated that. Passed over for Miss "I'm Wonderful; worship at my feet".
She had given him the ring... the Gem of Amara. It was the fucking Holy
Grail, for Christssake! She'd *given* him that, and he had accepted it, oh,
ever so gratefully - then probably swanned off to have lunch with Miss
"Queen C". What kind of self-centred, shallow, friend-dropping little bitch
calls herself "Queen C", anyway? Boyfriend-stealing ho.... Buffy smiled
grimly. She'd called Drusilla that once. There, she had been justified. It
was strange how similar Cordelia and Drusilla were, once you got down to
it... both had dark hair... both were self-centred to a fault... both...
She scrunched up her nose in thought, staring mindlessly out of the car
window. Both.... wore white on occasion....
{{Girl, you're grasping at straws.}} She said to herself. Okay, so Miss
Popularity and the Insane Vamp were not exactly peas in a pod. Big
difference. They'd both taken Angel away from her.
{{I'll be damned if I let her keep him, though,}} the Slayer thought
vengefully, gripping her shopping bag tightly. {{No ho's gonna steal *my*
boyfriend...}} The telltale 'crack!' of a broken book spine made her groan.
She'd hoped she would be able to read the books and return them before the
'warranty' (the shop had a 'no questions asked' returns policy on all goods
returned in a 'good as new' condition) expired...
{{Shit. She just cost me sixty dollars! What a *ho*!}}
*****
Cordelia was lonely. She had been back in Sunnydale for almost a full day
now and had barely said two words to anyone. Giles had been wonderful - he
had insisted that she stay at his house; why, with Spike missing, it wasn't
as if he'd be cramped for room. Her parents, when she'd called them, had
been - well, not as distant as she'd thought they would be. She still had no
particular desire to see them while she was in Sunnydale, but at least they
had spoken. Xander had wished her a pleasant stay before setting off to the
airport, and even Willow had remarked that the place had seemed strangely
empty without her.
She was so miserable she wanted to scream. All these people... had been her
friends. She'd missed them in LA. and berated herself for her weakness.
{{They're geeks and freaks, remember, Cordy... you don't like them. Geeks
and freaks and cheats. You don't want to know them.}}
Oh, but she did. Talking to Angel.... he wouldn't shut up about Buffy to
start off. After the initial awkwardness had passed.... he'd talked to her,
rather than Doyle. Of course he would. Cordelia had known Angel from way
back - even when he'd been Angelus. She knew him better than anyone in LA.
And the single most obvious thing that she knew about him was that he wasn't
over Buffy yet. Not by a long shot. And the bitch hadn't been the slightest
bit understanding about this... {{It's all me, me, me! with her.... I'm the
Slayer, I'm the Chosen One, everyone has to cater to my whims... forget that
other people's feelings are important too. Oh, that's right. She was hurt by
Angel and forgave him, so he must return the favour...}} Her eyes narrowed
angrily. {{Forget that having a bloke turn into an asshole after sex isn't
quite the same as being sent to Hell by your 'beloved' for hundreds of
years!}} She knew what he'd gone through. Hadn't wanted to know, but when he
started talking about Buffy not understanding - well, everything just came
out. No, he wasn't over her, not by a long shot. Then again, he couldn't
just forgive and forget, either.
{{She wanted to bribe him back... stupid ho. I know she slept with that boy
about a month after Angel left. A month! He could *smell* him on her....
poor guy. He was devastated.... stupid ho. Doesn't she know that I'm
supposed to put the pieces back together after she finishes screwing up
everyone's lives?}}
{{Including mine???}}
{{Bitch.}}
************
END
