Part 11
Cordelia opened the door to the hotel, pulling Spike in behind her. They walked carefully, Spike’s steps uncertain, his face contorted in pain. When she’d tended to his wounds awhile back, they had been nowhere near this serious. But at least he wasn’t dust. At least he would recover, even if it was painful.
Escorting him over to the sofa, Cordelia made sure he was somewhat comfortable before she left to get the first aid kit. While she was gone, Spike stripped off his shirt and inspected his wounds. They were ugly, a set of nearly two inch round puncture marks that went all the way through, right where his lungs were. If he’d been living, he would’ve died mere moments after he was skewered. They were already starting to heal, one of the many benefits of immortality.
Mere minutes later, Cordelia was back at his side, thrusting a mug of blood into his hand and scrutinizing his injuries with a practiced eye. She blocked out her worry for him, blocked out everything but her need to patch him up.
“Turn over, let me do the back first.” He did as she asked, kneeling on the sofa so he wouldn’t rub the wounds on his stomach.
Taking a bandage out of the kit, she poured some antiseptic on it and gingerly cleansed the two holes.
Spike hissed with pain at her ministrations. “This déjà vu thing is not all its cracked up to be, pet,” he said, his forehead resting on the back of the couch.
He barely felt her put the bandages on, her touch was so gentle.
“Turn back over,” she said softly, pushing at him gently.
He did, slumping in the seat so that his head could rest on the cushions. Once he was settled, she straddled him, sitting far back on his knees, wanting the best access for patching him up.
“Déjà vu? What, you mean you don’t like me playing nurse?” she said with a smile, remembering the last time she’d patched him up and their grope-fest afterward.
He took a gulp from the nearly-forgotten mug before answering. “Oh, having your hands on me is about as far from misery as possible, but I don’t like what I have to do to get it. You’d think a bloke could just smile and wink, but you modern girls make a man work for his jollies.”
“Hell yeah. I don’t put out for just any cute undead guy I see.” Their light banter helped him focus on something other than the pain. Actually, though, it was lessening. The blood was doing its magic, and he was already well on his way to recovery. She placed the last of the tape on the bandages, then sat back, her hands resting on his thighs, and smiled at him.
“All better, Blondie Bear,” she grinned. He just rolled his eyes and chuckled.
“Blondie bear? What kind of lame ass nickname is that?”
Both Cordelia and Spike’s eyes whipped over to the owner of the voice, Spike’s chest clenching and Cordelia’s anger rising. Buffy’s sarcasm wasn’t lost on either of them.
“I thought we’d gotten rid of you, Slayer,” Spike said, the words nearly emotionless. Right now he couldn’t think, he’d been so caught off guard.
“Are you okay, Spike?” Buffy said, a softness creeping into her voice, her eyes searching him.
She and Angel had entered the hotel just as Cordelia had come back into the lobby, and stood silently as she patched him up. Both of them ached to be a player in that scene, Buffy to be the one on Spike’s lap, Angel to be the one that Cordy was fussing over. But after a moment of guilty observation, Buffy’s longing turned to anger. Cordelia had no right to have her hands all over Spike. He loved her, not Cordelia. All of a sudden, the long list of Cordelia’s faults began to run through her head. This was not going to happen, not if she could help it.
She moved closer, blocking Cordelia’s presence out in her concern for him.
Cordelia wouldn’t be so easily pushed aside. Knowing that Spike was torn up whenever Buffy was around, she felt an urge to protect him.
“He’s fine. Healing nicely, as vamps are known to do. What do you want?” Cordelia asked harshly. Her breath caught as Angel melted out of the shadows, coming to stand near Buffy.
“I want to talk to you, and Buffy wants to talk to Spike,” Angel said carefully. His observation of the scene had been less heated, but not by much. Now that he’d acknowledged his feelings for Cordelia, all he wanted to do was declare them. But it didn’t stop his demon from howling with rage at the sight of another vampire fondling his property. He had a tight lid on his instincts, trying not to explode at Cordelia’s all-too-friendly position on Spike’s lap.
“Well, that’s kinda funny. Cuz neither of us give a damn about talking to you,” Cordelia said, her eyes flashing as she glared first at Angel, then Buffy. “We’ve got lots of stuff to do, so get lost.”
Spike just smiled up at her, loving how protective she was being. He didn’t need it, but it made him feel good just the same.
“Oh, sure. Stuff. Like what?” Buffy said skeptically.
“Spike’s going to take me shopping. There are some Jimmy Choo’s I’ve been dying to pick up,” Cordelia said, falling back on the stereotype she knew Buffy still held about her. Why should she try to convince the other woman that she was different? She didn’t want to believe it, anyway.
“This is important, Cordy,” Angel said, moving closer to her. He stood directly behind her, placing a hand on her shoulder. “Please?”
He gazed down at her with one of those puppy dog expressions that had always melted her anger and made her want to cuddle up with him forever. She felt herself beginning to succumb, and she hated herself for it.
But Spike wouldn’t let her be the bitch she wanted to be. “S’okay, luv. I’m all right with it if you are.”
“Are you sure?” she said, her eyes concerned.
“Yeah.” Maybe this time it’ll be over, his expression silently said.
“Fine,” she said, turning shuttered eyes up to Angel. “We’ll go out into the courtyard. You two,” she looked at Buffy with a warning in her eyes, “can talk in here.”
Angel followed her as she walked out into the small courtyard, the scent of jasmine thick in the air. The scent nearly shredded his resolve, the images of Cordelia’s possessed self flooding back in his mind. He fought for control, fought to regain the confidence in loving her that he’d so recently accepted. Wanting to get back some of his composure, he started with what he figured would be the easiest question first.
“Why didn’t you tell me you were still having visions, Cordelia?”
***
The tension between Buffy and Spike nearly strangled them both. Once Angel and Cordelia had left for the courtyard, it seemed as if the atmosphere had been completely vacuumed out of the space, leaving only the two of them and their raw emotions. They felt flayed, exposed, vulnerable. Spike was afraid that she would tell him that Angel was better than she’d ever dreamed. Buffy was afraid that Spike would talk about how happy he was with Cordy. Neither of them wanted to be the first to put his or her heart on the chopping block, so they’d settled for silence.
The only problem with that silence was that it allowed Buffy’s misplaced anger at Cordelia to grow, to swell and broil until it pushed aside the apology and declaration of love she’d come here to deliver. All she could think was that she’d lost him, to Cordelia of all people, and she wasn’t going to get him back.
Of course, it was all Cordelia’s fault. Cordelia was a conniving, manipulative little bitch who always wanted what Buffy wanted.
“What is it with you and superficial women, Spike?” Buffy said, sounding one hundred times more condescending than she’d intended. But she ignored it and plowed on in her pain and anger. “I mean, first there was Dru, not exactly the poster girl for either sanity or depth of character. Then there was Harmony. Now that was an example of shallowness personified if I ever saw it.”
Steadfastly ignoring the dark cloud appearing on Spike’s face, Buffy laid the last blow down. “And Cordelia? She may act all goody goody, but underneath, she’s still the conceited, self-centered bitch she was in high school.”
Spike shot up from his chair, ignoring the twinge of pain at the movement. He stalked over to Buffy, growling down into her face. She held her ground, but inside she was shaking. She knew she’d gone too far.
“First, Slayer,” he spat, the word no longer an endearment but an insult. “Dru was my sire. Didn’t have much choice in that, now, did I? And second, Harmony was a mistake. I knew it and she knew it. I couldn’t have Dru or you, so I settled for her. And Cordelia?”
He paused, shaking his head at her as if she were a small child who didn’t understand the simplest of problems. “Cordelia is anything but shallow. She’s got some serious depth, layers upon layers that very few people have had the privilege to explore. She’s been my friend when I’ve had no one else. When the woman I loved was too stupid to love me back. She’s comforted me when I needed it most. Don’t you dare tell me she’s shallow. You don’t know shit about Cordelia, so leave her the hell alone!”
His little speech was enough to shake Buffy to the core. She knew she’d been wrong, that her thoughts about Cordelia were unjustified. She knew that what Angel had told her about Cordelia’s personality transformation was true, but still, in her anger, she’d clung to the jealousy that had been born and nurtured so long ago.
Spike had said she was his friend. But was that all she was?
“Is that all she is, Spike? A friend?” Buffy asked softly, the anger still there but now softened by anxious worry. She wanted to know if they’d slept together, but at the same time, she didn’t. It was torturous.
Spike hesitated before he answered, and it cost him.
Buffy’s jaw clenched as the silence dragged on. Obviously, they’d slept together and Spike wasn’t going to kiss and tell.
“Fine. I get it. Enough said,” she whispered, her eyes filling with tears. She turned to leave, but he grabbed her arm.
“Buffy—,” he started, but she yanked her arm away, her eyes flashing.
“You have some of the worst decision making skills I’ve ever seen, Spike. Do you honestly think a fuck buddy relationship with Cordelia is good for you? Do you think you’ll get something more out of it than your ‘jollies’?” she said, echoing his joke to Cordelia earlier.
She got closer to him, her voice dropping to a whisper. “You haven’t changed at all. You say your soul made you different, made you a better man. What soul? From where I stand it doesn’t look like you’ve changed at all!”
That was all Spike needed to unleash his angry demon. Growling, he vamped out, grabbed Buffy’s arms, and crushed his lips to hers in a bruising kiss. His fangs scraped her lips as he intended to hurt her, to punish her for her cruel words. But moments after their mouths met, he was lost. He couldn’t hurt her, couldn’t punish her. Just the taste of her was enough to make him weak-kneed. His human features slid back on, and his mouth turned tender. His kisses became loving, sensual. He poured all of his pent up emotion for her into that contact, fearing that it would be his last chance.
The change from furious to gentle nearly undid Buffy’s control. She whimpered under his sweet attack, her tongue seeking his. Tasting him was like coming home, and she melted into his arms, pressing herself fully against him. She loved him so fully, and she put all of that into her kiss. But after a few minutes, it became too much. He didn’t want her. He didn’t love her, he’d slept with Cordelia. And knowing that made the desperation so much more acute.
Spike let her shove him away, but he reached out a hand and turned her face so that she was looking at him. “I told you before, and I’ll tell you again. You can never be happy with Angel because he isn’t what you need. I am. I love you, Buffy, and I always will. I hope that some day you’ll accept that, and then I’ll be here for you.”
He didn’t bother to reassure her that his relationship with Cordelia was platonic. He wanted Buffy to accept him even if he had slept with the cheerleader. Because he almost had. He’d wanted to. And in his mind, that was nearly the same thing.
They stared at each other for a moment more. Then Spike turned and strode up the stairs, away from Buffy, away from the pain.
She just watched him go, her heart torn in two. She wanted him so desperately, but the pain that the knowledge of his relationship with Cordelia brought was just too much to handle right now. If he’d denied it, she would’ve grabbed him and never let go. But he hadn’t. And that was something she’d have to accept before she gave herself to him irrevocably.
***
Outside in the courtyard, Cordelia regarded Angel with nothing short of disdain as he asked her about the visions. She still loved him, there was no doubt about that, but right now she disliked him intensely.
Finally, after a moment of contemplation, she answered him.
“I didn’t tell you I was still having visions because you didn’t seem to care about me one way or the other. Why should I tell you?”
He frowned as he remembered Buffy’s nearly identical words earlier. He still didn’t agree. “I’m the Champion for the Powers, not Spike. I should be the one fighting.”
She snorted indelicately. “You’ve got the evil law firm to run now, don’t you?” she reminded him.
“So?” he said, sounding like a three-year-old.
“So, you’re busy. Besides, like I said, you don’t care anymore.”
“Of course I care!” he shouted. “This is my redemption we’re talking about here, not some side job.”
“Could’ve fooled me,” Cordelia muttered. More loudly, she said, “It doesn’t matter, anyway. Spike’s perfectly capable of handling it. He’s a champion, too. He proved that in Sunnydale. So you just go on, play Lawyer Vamp, and have a good time. Just don’t come back.”
Her last words were punctuated by a death glare, the likes of which Angel had never seen. He didn’t know her eyes could express such hatred for him, and it unnerved him.
“Is this what you really want, Cordelia? To never see each other again? We were best friends. We cared about each other, didn’t we? Doesn’t that deserve some recognition?”
In his mind, he was asking for a second chance. But Cordelia took it as manipulation to get what he wanted. To her, it sounded like he was reducing their friendship to a bargaining chip.
Raising her chin and setting her jaw, she nodded once. “Yes. I want you gone, Angel. Go back to Buffy and leave me alone. Please, just leave.”
She spun around on the last phrase, her eyes welling up with tears. She desperately wanted to beg him to stay, to hold her and love her, but he’d made it abundantly clear that he didn’t want her anymore.
“Fine, Cordelia.” Angel finally agreed, staring at her back with longing and sorrow. He’d blown it. She was gone, and he wasn’t getting her back. It felt like his heart was being squished.
“Wait, Angel, I—,” Cordelia spun around, suddenly recognizing her last chance. But he was gone, having left silently at her insistence.
God, she was a fool.
***
God, he was a fool.
The admonishment echoed in his brain with every step that Angel took away from the hotel. He knew he’d blown it. He knew it, because he’d seen a flash of love and longing in her eyes back there, right in the moment when he talked about their relationship. He knew she still loved him, but he’d let himself be swayed by her anger. He hadn’t told her he loved her, and he’d let her push him away.
This time, he wasn’t going to give in to the guilt and brood. This time, he was going to do something about it. He was going to get her back, even if he had to tie her up and play dirty. She wanted him, he wanted her, and they were meant to be together, damn it.