2: Sunnydale High School, Southeast Sunnydale
“I know you’re out there,” Cordelia shouted toward the shadows. Stopping in her tracks, she reached into her purse for her stake. “Back off, buddy.”
Startled, Angel glanced around for sign of an imminent attack, but saw nothing. He had not made a sound, either. Instinct alone had alerted her to his presence. On the top step, Cordelia whirled around, stake in the air as she backed closer to the door. Seconds away from what he figured would be an ear-piercing scream Angel stepped forward into the light of the closest lamppost, holding his hands up in mock surrender.
The Cordelia he remembered would have screamed first and run for the hills hoping trouble would not follow. It seemed a lot had changed during the summer he missed. Angel said nothing, merely assessing her reaction while suppressing a smile.
Recognizing him, she dropped her arm to her side. “Oh, it’s you.” Her hand kept a firm grip on the stake. “Great,” she added in a non-enthusiastic way that Angel was growing used to. His reception was hardly a welcome one and so far it seemed that his presence here in Sunnydale was merely tolerated for Buffy’s sake.
The unconscious stab at his ego caused his mouth to tighten up. Dropping the pretense of surrender, Angel moved silently up the stairs to stand beside her. Any amusement he had felt at her brave attempt at defending herself faded quickly. He supposed she had a legitimate reason or two not to trust him, although it was hard to suppress the urge to remind her that there was a time he could have had her for the asking.
That was not just his ego talking. No doubt it was a lucky escape on his part considering her constant chatter. It was doubtful Xander had time to make a move despite the length of time those two dated. He could not deny that Cordelia was a stunning beauty, but she possessed no tact whatsoever, and her rather obvious crush on him had made for some awkward moments.
Buffy once told him that Cordelia was the most irritating girl she had ever met. There were times when Angel could understand why, although he had never spent much time around her. Frankly, it was just as well. He rarely knew what to say to her although there were times he was compelled to make an effort, like that one time at the Bronze. Of course, she had done most of the talking, but he enjoyed listening to her ramblings.
Ever since she discovered that he was a vampire, Cordelia tended to ignore his existence unless it involved saving her life. Now that Angelus had attacked her in the cemetery, it was doubtful that behavior would change.
“Sheesh! Are you competing with Oz for stoic of the year award?” Cordelia snapped her fingers in front of his face. “C’mon, Angel, say something. It only takes one syllable to say ‘hi’.”
Opening his mouth, he closed it again, wondering what she expected. “Nice night,” he finally muttered, not knowing what else to say and inwardly cursing himself for sounding like an idiot.
Cordelia snorted. “Guess you left your vocabulary in hell because you weren’t tongue-tied when you were evil.”
She moved toward the door when Angel’s hand closed over her wrist preventing her well-timed exit. A tremor shuddered beneath his unexpected touch.
Even he was surprised by his action. Usually something to be avoided, human contact was not something he had gotten used to, but Cordelia’s way with words irked him into an automatic response. The instant his skin touched hers Angel knew it was a mistake. Temptingly warm. Soft. His fingertips reflexively traced the pulse skipping at her wrist.
Despite her bravado, she was nervous, he realized, listening as her breath hitched in an almost imperceptible way. A part of him liked that a lot, wanted to turn nerves to fear, the way countless others had done upon discovering the man who held them close was a vampire.
They both glanced down at the stake and then up again. He could not tell what she was thinking, but figured it was best not to let go. Opting for a distraction, it occurred to him that he did have something to ask that might qualify in her estimation as a real topic of conversation.
During the early days of her hospitalization, he had made an unprecedented effort to visit her there, having felt sorry for Cordelia, knowing something of the betrayal she felt, and the physical pain it caused. A small measure he had taken to ease her misery, as well as his own, had been forgotten until now.
“I stopped by Mercy General, but the nurse said you couldn’t have visitors,” he revealed his failed attempt at a friendly overture. Angel realized he had shocked her by actually coming up with something to say. “Did you get the flowers?” Making polite conversation was not his thing. Nor did he make a habit of sending bouquets to anyone without some grim purpose at the heart of it.
He was not entirely certain why he had done so this time.
Drawing in a deep breath, Cordelia held it for a second, a hot flush spreading across her skin remembering the conclusions of the nursing staff. The way they had gushed over her tall, handsome boyfriend only to be told that he was no such thing. At the time, she had not wanted to see Angel any more than Xander.
Three days went by before she accepted any visitors into her hospital room. In the end, she had allowed Xander in only to send him away again. Giles stopped by with a stack of homework and a Get Well card, telling her that her teachers wished her a speedy recovery. He was followed by a floating armada of shiny balloons brought in by Willow who made her apologies with stuttered whispers and tears in her eyes.
Apparently, Angel only made the one attempt to see her, which was one more try than Cordelia ever expected. Since returning from that hell dimension, he was even more of a reclusive mystery guy than usual. Not that she would have wanted him to see her like that. Hospital gowns were hardly haute couture.
“Yes, I got the flowers.” Smiling at the memory, she was surprised that Angel brought up his gift. He was asking in a tone that suggested it was not quite appropriate for him to do something so personal. Pfft. Maybe he was scared Buffy would find out her favorite lapdog had done something without her say so.
Truthfully, his was the only offering that seemed remotely genuine. Xander’s huge bouquet bore the stench of guilt despite the color they added the bland walls of her hospital room.
“So, you liked them?”
Admitting, “I did,” she told him with a hint of the same amazement she had felt upon receiving them. Smiling, she said, “They were gorgeous, unique. Thank you.”
“Good.” Warmly, his gaze held hers as his grip shifted, softening and opening up to move down over the back of her hand. Angel tugged loose the stake, holding it up between them. “I think it’s safe to put this away.”
Snatching it out of his hand, “Says you.” Lightly poking his stomach with the end of the stake, Cordelia huffed, “How am I supposed to know if you’ve gone all homicidal maniac on us again?”
All she got that time was a low grunt as he absently rubbed the spot she had poked. Cordelia’s gaze automatically slid down, watching Angel’s hand slide across the dark material of his shirt, fingers splaying over the taut muscles beneath. Her attention darted back up to discover that irritation had replaced his formerly calm demeanor.
“Umm, I guess we should get in there,” she backed toward the door. Angel followed step for step until Cordelia bumped into the metal door handles. Her heart rate sky-rocketed as Angel’s big body loomed close, blocking her in as his hand closed over her hip.
An irrational flash of fear swept over her only to realize seconds later that Angel was simply moving her out of the way in order to get to the door. He held it open for her, motioning her in and quietly reminding Cordelia that there was always going to be one constant between them. “Buffy’s waiting.”