Part 19: Playing Ann Landers
Angel took the sewers home, literally dragging one foot in front of the other. He had never felt such bone deep exhaustion before. It was like being hit by a car. Or falling out of a building. Or being impaled by a rebar, then falling out of a building and then getting hit by a car.
All the drama of the past two days had taken its toll on him. He had never felt this tired before. It had just been too much to deal with. Seeing Cordy’s budding friendship with Spike of all people, kissing Buffy, Cordelia finding them, and then topping the evening off by having her almost bleed out in his arms. Angel just wanted to go kiss his son and then fall asleep forever.
Focusing solely on the need to get to a bed, Angel came in through the basement and started walking up the stairs. He ran right into Spike, who was coming downstairs at an alarming speed. Angel had to grab the railing at the last minute just to keep from falling.
“Watch it you big poof,” Spike said.
Angel just shut his eyes, then opened them, mumbling a lame “sorry.”
“Don’t know how I didn’t know you were down here,” Spike commented. “I usually smell that Nancy-Boy hair gel from a mile away.”
Angel didn’t have the energy to notice he had been insulted. “Spike, I’m tired. Please move,” he bit out.
Spike, being Spike, ignored the request entirely. He stared at his grandsire a moment, before quietly asking, “How’s the cheerleader.”
“She woke up. She’s mad about what the stitches are going to do to her audition schedule. She’s making jokes, she…” Angel stopped, noticing something on his hands. It was blood. His hands were still covered in Cordelia’s blood. Suddenly the smells of her blood surrounded him, like he had bathed in it. He was going to be sick.
Not missing Angel’s reaction, Spike sighed. He really did have something important to do, but clearly that would have to wait. Angel was, after all, family. He grabbed Angel’s arm and dragged him up the stairs. Angel barely noticed. He seemed to have gone into shock. Spike pushed him into a chair in the kitchen and then grabbed a bag of blood from the fridge. Moving to the microwave, Spike began speaking.
“You know what I miss the most about the old days. There was no fear. I mean, sure you and Darla were intimidating and there was lots of other peoples’ fear and Christ that was great.” Angel still stared at his hands. “But the taste of my own fear. I miss the time when years would go by without that taste.” The microwave beeped and he handed the sitting vampire a cup.
Angel still didn’t look at Spike and made no move to drink. Finally he said, “Since when are you so afraid?”
“Please, like you don’t know the answer to that one. Love, you dolt. The minute you know love, in comes that bloody awful taste of fear. And the more you love, the more that taste is always there. And not that I didn’t love Dru, but she never had me this scared. At least not for those decades in the middle.” Angel moved to take a drink and Spike caught himself smiling like a new mother. The realization sickened him.
“And now, with Buffy, you’re afraid? Of what? That she’ll get hurt, or die again? Or that she won’t ever love you back, that you’ll never know how she feels?” Angel was confused.
“I know how she feels. I’m afraid she’ll never know how she feels. No strike that. I’m afraid of everything. I’m afraid she’ll leave. I’m afraid she’ll stay but not close enough. I’m afraid every time she walks away from me and I’m afraid every time I see her coming near me.” Spike hadn’t meant to say so much.
“Spike, Buffy isn’t Dru. She won’t—”
“Oh save it. I know she’s not going to be my partner in crime. I know who she is.”
“Actually,” Angel said quietly, “I was going to say that Buffy’s not like Drusilla. She’s loyal. She has this incredible heart.”
“She’s sane.”
“Yeah, she’s different from Dru that way too. But Spike, when Buffy loves someone, she loves them completely. There should never be fear in that kind of love.” Angel looked at Spike and noted his childe’s confusion. “Look, I’m not saying she feels anything for you. And by no means am I giving you my permission. I think she’s crazy to lay down with you.”
“Oh but it’s perfectly acceptable for you to try and worm your way into the cheerleader’s pants?” Spike cried out, his feelings hurt.
“Let me finish. I know that Buffy’s not in a good place right now. And if being with you, if you help make it better for her, than I guess it’s not completely horrible. But if you hurt her, if this ‘relationship’ ends the least badly, well, it better not end badly.”
“You think I would hurt her,” Spike exclaimed, standing up so fast he knocked his chair over. “You, the man who she never recovered from. She never will recover from.”
“Spike, tell me that if the chip came out tomorrow, tell me you wouldn’t rip open her throat and bleed her dry.”
Spike got right up in Angel’s face. “If I wanted her dead, she’d be dead. Ever since she came back, the chip doesn’t work on her. I could snap her pretty little neck without a twinge of pain. I CAN hurt her. But I don’t.”
Realization dawned on Angel. “You just let her hurt you.” I may not “have” Cordy but at least I don’t have her pulling me into bed with one hand and smacking me with the other. God, what that must be like.
Somewhere, deep deep inside Angel, respect for Spike started to grow. The two vampires just stared at each other, suddenly uncomfortable when they realized they sounded way too much like Tuesday’s on Oprah with Dr. Phil.
“Well,” Spike said. “Look at us, having a heart to heart over a nice cup of blood. Getting our feelings and sharing way too bloody much. I’m off.”
Angel nodded and started towards the stairs. If possible, this conversation with Spike had left him even more tired. “Wait, Spike. Where do you have to be at” Angel checked his watch, “seven-o-clock in the morning.”
From the basement, Spike called, “Uh, gotta go see…a girl…about a thing.”
***
Cordelia woke up with that creepy feeling that someone was staring at her—the uneasiness that always manages to invade your sleep when someone’s eyes are on you. Cordy had a pretty good idea of who it was too.
Dammit, I told Angel to go home and get some rest, not come back in stalk me in an hour. She peeked one eye open, registering the cool darkness of her hospital room and the presence of an unexpected guest.
“I thought Angel was the only vampire who got off on watching people sleep? Or is it a genetic, sire to childe thing?”
Spike grinned. God he liked this girl. She looked tired and pale and in that minute, reminded him so much of Buffy. She had that face on, the face that said ‘yes, I’m hurt but I’ll go on because I have to, because that’s what I do, not matter how much I hurt.’ He didn’t think Cordelia would like being told she looked just like the Slayer. So he said just that.
“Excuse Me? Buffy and I look nothing alike. Nothing!”
“Right now, you really kinda do,” Spike said.
“Oh that’s it. Looks like I have to change my hair again.”
Alarmed, Spike said, “Don’t do anything drastic. Forget I said it. You two chits are nothing alike and you look nothing alike.”
“Hmph. Thank you,” Cordy huffed.
“She doesn’t look anywhere near as bad as you do right now,” Spike couldn’t resist saying to her.
“Well she would! I mean, if I hadn’t…”
Now, this was what Spike had come here for. Sure he liked getting Cordelia riled and having a nice spat, but they really did have more important things to talk about. Because something was really bothering him about what happened in the park.
Buffy’s story hadn’t made a ton of sense and he was hoping Cordy would be more forthcoming. “If you hadn’t what?” Spike asked. “Because in Buffy’s story, she was standing in front of the slide, a slimy demon came down the slide, and then the demon cut you open.” Spike stared as Cordy flinched at the memory.
“I knew it,” he said quietly. “You got hurt trying to save her. You were protecting her.”
Cordelia was mortally offended. “I SO was not.”
“Oh really. How’d you get that nasty gash than? Hmm?”
Why hadn’t Cordy picked out some sort of story in advance? Or better yet, why hadn’t she and Buffy come up with coinciding stories? That might have had a little something to do with the fact that I was bleeding and unconscious after it happened, but still…
“Well,” Cordelia drawled, “she didn’t see that thing and so I—”
“So you jumped in and saved her. Took the hit. Don’t try to deny it.”
Geez, if he knows exactly what happened, why the hell is he asking. “I had to.”
“That’s odd,” Spike commented, coming to sit on the bed. “I didn’t know there was a rule about having to save people you supposedly hate.”
“I don’t hate Buffy.”
“But you’ve never liked her much. So why?”
Cordelia sighed. “I don’t know Spike.”
“Why?” he said, louder now.
“I guess, maybe in the heat of the moment…”
“WHY”
“Because I had to. Because I love Angel and I don’t think he could take losing her again. I don’t think I could watch that look come on his face again.” Cordelia didn’t realize she was shouting until a nurse came and peeked in the door, looking disapprovingly at Spike. After they shoo-ed her away, neither knew exactly what to say.
“I came here,” Spike started, “I came here to thank you. I had a pretty good idea of what happened, and I just wanted you to know how much I appreciate, I mean, she, she means everything to me right now, and *I* couldn’t take losing her again either, and…”
Spike noticed that Cordelia was staring at him, probably cause he was babbling like an idiot. “But now that I’m here, I’m going to give you some advice. It’s brave of you and all. Getting hurt to save Angel’s ex. Trying to help them get time alone. Telling yourself to just accept what those two are and always will be. Seriously, it’s very brave and self-sacrificing and all that other crap. But you know what takes even more guts? Risking it all.”
“Huh,” Cordy said.
“Quit playing courageous martyr for love, get off your ass and try being really brave sometime. Try telling the person you love how you feel. That, my dear, takes real balls.”
“I have no idea how he feels. He and Buffy—”
“Buffy’s last words to me in Sunnydale were that she hated me and I should go to hell. It only took me five hours to catch up to her here in LA. That’s courage. Coming clean about how you feel when you don’t know your chances…or hell, when you have no chance.”
“Hmmm,” Cordy pondered his words.
“Yeah, you think about that for a bit. Well, you really do look like hell, so I’m guessing you need some sleep. Just wanted to pop in for a bit.” Spike stood next to the bed, awkwardly looking down at her. Then he leaned over and kissed her on the forehead, just as Angel had.
And Cordelia’s eyes fluttered closed, finally losing herself in sleep.