Part 2
“Hey, Xander, wait up!” Cordelia called, struggling with two binders, a stack of books, and a purse that was constructed more for ornamentation than easy carrying,. Exacerbating her balance challenge were impossibly high platform shoes. Cute shoes, no doubt, but more in the stilt family than the tennis shoe family. Her ankles wobbled as she walked quickly, the shoes clomping heavily on the floor with each step. Geez, how had she ever managed in high school like this? Suddenly, she longed for the more practical, but still haute footwear she’d begun wearing almost two years ago now. Or was it two years from now? Her head was still spinning.
Come to think of it, when the hell was she?
“Xander!” she shouted, indignant and annoyed now. He was ignoring her on purpose. Being in Ms. Fernandez’s senior science class a few moments ago meant that it had to be somewhere in the second half of her senior year. Post rebar skewage, pre Mayor’s ascension. Her muddled brain frantically searched for the problems of the week during those months as she finally caught up to Xander.
He’d actually slowed down a little bit, not turning around or stopping, but at least waiting for her to catch up.
Xander glanced down at her feet, his eyebrows raised. Shaking his head, he looked back at her face with a condescending smirk. “Nice shoes, Cordy,” he said, obviously meaning the exact opposite.
Cordelia suddenly had the overwhelming urge to stick her tongue out at him. “Shut up, dork,” she shot back. “Where are you going?”
“Going?” he said, again looking at her like she’d lost her marbles. “Where else do we of the Almighty Scooby Clan go after school? Okay, I’ll be nice and give you a hint. It’s this place with lots of books. You know, those things with words and information in them. Oh, wait. Hooked on Phonics didn’twork for you, so maybe you don’t know.”
“Funny, Xander,” she sighed, giving in to his snarky behavior. Obviously she wasn’t going to catch one of Xander’s rare glimpses of maturity this afternoon. “What’s going on at the library? Giles’ got some new demon to kill or something?”
This time, Xander stopped dead in his tracks, now looking concerned. She stopped with him, waiting patiently for him to answer. When he didn’t, she shook her head.
“What?”
“Did you eat that toxic waste that was passing for pasta in the cafeteria today?” He asked suspiciously.
She laughed. There was no way in hell she was going to remember what she ate for lunch some random day five years ago. “Don’t think so, no. Why?”
“You’re acting kinda funny. You know, more brain dead than usual.”
“I know,” she sighed, adjusting the precariously balanced load in her arms. “Been kind of a rough day.”
“Okay, now you’re really starting to scare me. Did you just AGREE with me?”
“I guess. So what?”
“You NEVER agree with me. About anything. Ever. It’s against all laws of man and nature.”
Her impatience was starting to get the better of her. She sighed, and rolled her eyes.
“Okay, fine, Xander. I’ll play. You’re a no-good, hideously dressed loser who’s too dumb to find his own ass.”
He smiled brightly. “That’s much better,” he said, nodding as he resumed his trek through the emptying halls towards the library. “We’re researching the mayor’s ascension. Not that you ever care about world-ending apocalypses. Thought you were obsessed with finding a prom dress that would max out even your daddy’s plastic.”
Xander’s latest rude comment didn’t even register as her brain was numbed with shock. Prom dress. She was working to buy a prom dress.
Shit. She was late for work.
She recovered quickly. “So the prom is soon?”
“Are you SURE you didn’t eat that pasta?”
Cordy growled in exasperation. “Yes, dweeb! Now answer the goddamn question!”
Immediately, her comment echoed back in her mind and it scared her. The snark was manufactured, but it still gave her the chills. It was way, way too easy to slip back into the bitchy persona that had hidden her insecurities in high school.
Xander smirked at her again. “Tsk, tsk. Such a potty mouth, Cordelia. You’d think the reigning social queen would at least have the Prom written on her calendar. It’s, like, Saturday. Duh!” He gave that last phrase a slightly higher pitch and just enough Valley Girl intonation to make it authentic.
Finally, she felt like she had her bearings. The Prom. Hellhounds killing people in formal wear. Although I guess they didn’t know that yet, since Xander didn’t know she worked at April Fool’s instead of just shopping there.
She glanced down at her watch, her brain straining to remember her work schedule from so long ago. What was it? Oh, yeah. She was out of school at 2:30, had to be at work at 4:00. Same schedule the entire time she worked at that pretentious little sweat shop. Plenty of time to snoop around in the library, get herself oriented to this decade again.
“Can I help research anything?” she asked, trying not to sound too eager.
“Uhhh, sure,” Xander said, still wary of her attitude.
Ignoring his skepticism, Cordelia followed Xander into the library, the loud clomp of her shoes against the floor announcing her presence.
“Hey, you lucky people!” Xander flung his arms out to the few occupants of the library. “I come bearing gifts and bad news. Gifts: My own lovely self. Bad News: I brought the Fashion Disaster Clydesdales to help us research.”
Xander must’ve noticed the sounds of her accessories, too. Cordelia socked him once on the upper arm. Hard.
“Oww, Cordelia!” Xander whined, clutching his arm and glaring at her.
“You’re such a big baby, Xander,” Cordelia complained, walking over to the table and sitting down heavily. Glad to be off the torturous footwear, she finally let herself take in the eerily familiar surroundings.
And people. Wow. Oz and Willow. The Twilight Zone was definitely of the now.
“Hi, Willow!” Cordelia said brightly, flashing a genuine smile in the redhead’s direction. She was really glad to see her, having patched up, via telephone and e-mail, much of their high-school drama in the years since Cordelia left Sunnydale.
Immediately, she felt waves of guilt as Willow looked at her suspiciously, the knowledge of her current whereabouts—or more accurately whenabouts—rushing back.
“Um, hi yourself, Cordelia,” Willow murmured, inching closer to Oz as if she were afraid Cordelia was up to something.
Some of the light left Cordelia’s eyes at the telling gesture. It was obvious that the rose-colored lenses of hind-sight had dulled her view of herself in high school. She knew she’d been snarky, thoughtless, and self-centered, but she hadn’t remembered causing anyone to quake in her presence. Especially not any of the Scoobies. But apparently, she’d thwacked a few people a little harder verbally than she’d ever intended. If she was truly being given a second chance to live her life, she had a lot of mistakes to correct.
Her last thought seemed like an epiphany. A second chance? Hadn’t that been what she was wishing for recently? To go back in time and change everything that had made her life a living hell? Whether or not she was supposed to be here, Cordelia suddenly took a big sigh of relief and thanked the Powers for this miracle, inadvertent or not. She was not about to squander this opportunity.
She just hoped it was that, an opportunity, and not another cosmic disaster.
Flashing another genuine smile at Willow, Cordelia picked up a book from the stack in the center of the table. “So what’s on the research agenda tonight? New demons? A dangerous master vampire? New angles on the Mayor’s ascension?”
Now even Oz looked surprised, and that was saying something. The couple looked at Xander, their eyebrows raised in silent query.
Xander just shrugged. “Don’t look at me. She’s been weird like this since 8th period. Fell asleep and drooled all over her desk in class. Doesn’t sound like the recipe for a lobotomy to me, but then again . . .”
This time she kicked him, his shin conveniently within easy reach.
“Geez, Cordy, knock it OFF!” Xander shouted, hopping on one foot. She just smirked at him and glared. With some chagrin, she noticed that her behavior relaxed the shoulders of Oz and Willow. Looked like she was going to have to ease into her more mature persona instead of throwing it in their unsuspecting faces.
“Really. I thought you young people would have learned to control yourselves by now.” A hauntingly familiar, uptight British voice came from behind her, and Cordelia froze. It was Wesley.
Trying not to look too freaked out, Cordelia casually turned around and clenched her jaw to keep it from dropping. Her breath hitched and she laughed once, really loud, then tried to cover it up with a cough. It didn’t fool anybody; everyone just looked at her, once again, like her brain was on vacation. She smiled widely, her eyes twinkling, and turned back to Wesley.
Her eyes hungrily drank in his form. Every crease of his somber gray suit was precise, every sandy hair in place. Gold-rimmed glasses were sparkling clean, his face freshly scrubbed. His bearing was stiff, stereotypically British, his hands clasped in front of him. Change his dour suit to a somber uniform and you’d have the epitome of Hollywood’s version of an English butler.
He was so incredibly different; this was definitely not her Wesley.
The Wesley she had seen just hours before in the sewers of L.A. had been through so many character changing events in the last couple of years that he’d almost become a completely different person. This Wesley had yet to experience any of that, and what she was witnessing was the purity of his youth and innocence. He might have been an adult, age-wise, but the events he would face would change and mature him in ways he couldn’t now imagine.
So many things had contributed to his personality overhaul. There was the entire Faith incident here in Sunnydale, which, if her memory served, was just about to royally bite him in the ass. Then there were the rogue demon hunter days, the awkward transition to becoming a part of the agency. The Vocah demon’s attack also greatly influenced him, and then Angel’s entire beige period toughened up his skin even that much more.
But it was the false prophecy and Connor’s abduction that really tore his soul in two. The Wesley she knew, the one from 2003, was a spirit with a million tiny cracks in it, as if his essence had been smashed to smithereens by life’s cruelty and then painstakingly glued back together. He was fractured, disoriented, hardened. A man who’d been beaten excessively by life and showed the minutiae of extra wear and tear.
All of a sudden, she caught herself staring at him and was shocked to recognize the look he was projecting back to her. Shy eyes tinged with just a bit of lustful worship gazed solidly into hers.
Oh, god. She’d forgotten all about that. Inwardly she cringed. She knew that this time was important in establishing the basis of their friendship, but the idea of reliving some of it was not exactly appealing.
She’d flirted shamelessly with Wesley the last few months of her senior year, totally turned on by his propriety and debonair manners. She’d looked at him and seen nothing but the three pillars of existence she’d been force-fed from birth. Every Chase woman worth her salt knew that one’s priorities in life must be in line as follows: 1) Money. 2) Appearance. 3) Connections. Any priorities beyond that were mere frills. To Cordelia Chase’s young, impressionable mind, Wesley Wyndam-Price had spelled exactly that.
But her mother had never addressed how to compensate when the guy kissed like a fish. Can we say “Ewww?” Okay, so the man oozed sweet, sensual, lazy charm, but apparently, no one had bothered to teach him how to properly suck face. And that, in Cordelia’s mind, had surpassed everything.
And now, she had to go through all that again. Sighing, Cordelia smiled at him and turned away.
Wesley didn’t let her off so easily. “Ahem, um, Ms. Chase? Cordelia?” he asked tentatively.
She turned back to him, a smile still curving her lips but her eyes were less enthusiastic. “What is it, Wesley?”
“I wondered if I might have a word with you.” He glanced nervously around the rest of the room. “In private, if I might.”
“Ahhh. . .” She didn’t remember this, and it was throwing her off. But then again, the first time around, she’d probably gone straight to work from school, never setting foot in the library. Shaking herself out of the frantic mental scrambling, she addressed his anxious question. “Sure, Wesley. No problem.”
Taking her elbow, he guided her up the stairs and between the stacks. Nervously, he reached up and stuck his index finger into his collar, loosening it slightly. Cordelia tried valiantly to keep the giggles suppressed. It was beyond difficult.
“Cordelia,” he began formally, his hands now clasped in front of him, his back ramrod straight. “Yesterday we were discussing the Prom, if you’ll remember?”
“Uh, sure. I remember,” she lied, grinning at him.
“Yes. Well, I indicated that I would be attending as a chaperone, but I had hoped that my duties in that capacity would not prevent me from enjoying the evening’s festivities.”
She took a moment to translate his words. It had always amazed her that Wesley used 75% more words per sentence than any other person she’d ever met.
“I’m sure they’ll let you have fun,” she said, still not sure where he was going with this.
“Well, I was wondering if you might . . . if it wouldn’t be too much trouble . . . if you might be interested in . . . a, um, a dance? With me?”
A huge smile broke out on her face at his question. He was so cute! Still so shy and unsure of himself. “Of course, Wesley. That would be fun.”
Relief immediately saturated his features, his shoulders sagging as if Cordelia had just agreed to marry him or donate her kidney to save his life. Obviously, this had been difficult for him.
She reached out and touched his arm. “Thanks for asking me, Wesley. I’ve gotta go, though. I”ll see you, okay?”
He nodded, his smile just a touch more worshipful, if that was possible.
“Very well, Cordelia. I shall see you later.”
Flashing another grin, she turned on her heel and skipped back down the steps, breezing toward the library doors.
“Bye, guys!” she threw back, her cheerfulness uncontained.
The small ensemble just stared at the doors as they swung shut once again.
“That was definitely of the weird,” Willow said after a moment.
Oz just nodded in agreement. Xander was silent, too, having said everything he could think of already. He reflected on what must’ve been the latest evidence of the Hellmouth’s effect on Sunnydale’s populace. Nothing short of the supernatural could explain a nice Cordelia Chase.
Wesley just stared reverently at the closed doors, a dreamy look on his face.
***
Managers in retail deserved their own special torture chamber in hell. Cordelia glared at Mrs. Finkle, her boss at April Fools, and desperately wished for laser vision so that she could put some oomph in her hatred. That woman deserved whatever nastiness the came her way. Reluctantly, she turned back to the mind-numbing task of straightening the formalwear on the racks.
A sparkle not two feet away caught her eye, and she smiled faintly as she recognized what would become her prom dress. Picking it up, she held the dress up to the light, walking across the room so she could look like she was doing something with it, not just dreaming about buying it. She’d forgotten how pretty it was. Spaghetti strapped, v-necked, floor length, straight skirt with a slit up the side. Dark gray with a sparkle, something that showcased her beauty rather than competed with it.
Crossing over to the mirror, she held it up in front of her, lovingly fingering the supple fabric. She had just barely remembered the feel of wearing the beautiful garment when a snippy voice appeared behind her once again.
“Okay, how long does it take you to buy a damn dress?”
She sighed in exasperation. Xander. She’d forgotten this little scene. The one where he finds out she works at the store and has no money. Might as well play it like she remembered.
“Xander!” she sounded surprised, trying to remember her lines. “I’m considering things a little more carefully these days. Don’t want to get stuck with another dud.”
Her double meaning wasn’t lost on her ex-boyfriend, and he lashed back, completely in character.
“Well, this should work for ya!” he taunted, pointing at the dress. “It positively screams ‘nympho’.”
Suddenly, her nosy co-worker Rhonda was at her side, butting in, as usual. She’d forgotten how annoying that girl was. Ms. Goody Two Shoes. Even worse than Buffy, if that were possible.
“Is this a customer, or a friend?” Rhonda asked, giving Xander the once over.
“Neither. Just stopped by for my daily helping of bile,” Xander quipped badly.
Rhonda acted as if he hadn’t spoken. “So you’d better get back to work and quit goofing,” she told Cordelia. “Mrs. Finkle so has it in for you.”
With a frown, Cordelia chanced a look over at her dictatorial boss. Sure enough, the woman’s evil eye was turned in her direction.
Xander finally put two and two together. “You work here?” he asked in disbelief.
“Yes,” Cordelia said, the pain of that moment coming back in full force. Boy, it wasn’t too hard to play this a second time. All those emotions were still so fresh. “Yes, I work here.”
Still confused, Xander gaped at her. “But uh, why?” he asked lamely.
She hung the dress back onto the rack and turned to face him, a condescending look firmly in place.
“I’m trying to buy a dress,” she said, turning away again.
“But don’t you already have all the dresses?”
Whirling around, she shot daggers at him with her eyes. “I have nothing, okay? No dresses, no cell phone, no car. Everything’s gone because Daddy made a little mistake on his taxes for the last twelve years. I’m broke, okay? Are you satisfied?”
She walked past him, then turned back around to face him. “I can’t go to any of the colleges that accepted me, and I can’t even go home, because we don’t have one.”
At his stunned look, she continued. “Are you happy? Now you can go back and tell all your little friends how Cordy lost everything and has to work like everybody else. And how she has to wear a name tag.” She flashed the tag under her jacket. “Oh, yeah. I’m Name Tag Girl. That just gives it a little extra punch.”
In time with her words, a huge crash sounded behind her, a hellhound breaking through the front window. Cordelia sighed. Here they go again. Monsters at the prom. Oh, lovely joy. Well, she wasn’t going to sit back and watch this gore-fest twice.
