Chapter Two – Changes
“So what do we know about this guy other than three years ago he went evil and killed most of Cordelia’s graduating class which… By the way? Not making me like him any more, know what I’m saying?” Asked Gunn frowning, his voice hushed.
They were seated in the lobby of the Hyperion, Fred by his side, Wesley and Lorne across from him. Each member of the investigations team wore similar expressions – frowns, because this part of the night just wasn’t in the current job description.
“For all intents and purposes Angel is a good man,” Said Wesley, rubbing the back of his neck, tiredly, “But… What little I know of him isn’t exactly much to go on.”
“I hate to say this, guys, but that’s not really the issue here.” Fred looked between her friends, a little sadly. “Tomorrow night, he’s gonna walk into Caritas, see Cordelia sitting there and be wondering why there’s no fabulous birthday party. He asks her and we’re back to having a real bad day again…”
Wasn’t that the understatement of the century? If this thing went the way they were all figuring on? Then it’d be more than a bad day.
Occasionally, things happened, things beyond their control.
They tried their damndest to keep a semblance of normality in Cordelia’s life, pulled the wool over her eyes every single day just to make sure she didn’t get herself upset.
Sometimes, their plan worked and everything was good for another day. On others… On days like today, Angel had walked in. She knew him from her high school days, those days she rarely ever talked about. It was easy to keep up the pretence when some of the only people who knew about it were seated in this very room.
Right now it wasn’t Cordelia they were worried about; it was Angel.
If he showed up tomorrow night then the likelihood was, he was going to ask questions. Inquisitive, worrying questions. And if his questions were the questions that Fred thought he was going to ask? It was going to throw Cordelia’s world into orbit.
“So what do we do? We been keeping up this routine for her sake for as long as possible and now he shows up, we gotta change it?” Gunn rubbed a hand tiredly across his face, not liking this idea any more than the others did.
“Perhaps not…” Wesley looked up from his seat, tapping his pencil against his thigh. “Maybe I could get there early tomorrow, try to catch Angel before he goes into the club? Explain what’s happened to Cordelia?”
“Will that work?” Fred wondered aloud. It was only one day, one night really. Maybe they could swing this without Cordelia getting hurt too much? Gosh, she hoped so. The last ‘bad day’ they’d had, Cordelia had cried for three hours straight before asking to be taken back to her doctor, to have it explained all over again.
“I dunno he seemed pretty inquisitive if you ask me. Like the type who’d ask more questions as soon as he got answers?” Lorne offered.
Wesley sighed, “If there was any way to get in contact with Angel, tell him to just forget about tomorrow night I would but… He didn’t leave a number, anything?”
Lorne shook his head, gravely. “Nothing but the smile on Cordelia’s face. I hate to say this—”
“Then don’t.” Wesley snapped.
They all knew what was coming, Fred realised. Angel could be good for Cordelia. She was always happy, always smiling but… There was something missing, something they’d lacked since the day of her accident. It felt wrong, deceiving her like this and if Angel came in, blowing the lid off everything they’d done then—Where did that leave them?
Where did that leave Cordelia?
“Maybe we should sleep on it.” Said Fred, sensibly, twisting a lock of hair around her fingers. “We can decide what to do tomorrow, right? It’s not as if we need a decision now or anything…”
“No,” Wesley stood, ending the conversation as he gathered his books together. “I’ll go talk to Angel tomorrow night. The sooner this is sorted out, the better.”
Fred glanced at Gunn and Lorne nervously, watching as Wesley headed out of the lobby and into the office, closing the door behind him. He’d looked stressed lately, more so since Lorne had called from the club announcing that their problem had a name and its name was Angel.
“You think I should go talk to him?” She whispered, knowing that right now a world of guilt was hanging over Wesley’s shoulders. He blamed himself; she knew he did, for everything that had happened this past year.
It wasn’t easy, not for any of them, but a lot of it had taken a toll on Wesley. Cordelia’s accident, losing Groo the way they had – it had all led up to this moment, this moment when watching Wesley walk away with the weight of the world on his shoulders was harder than any routine they had.
“Leave him be for a while, Freddikins.” Said Lorne, shaking his head. “He’ll come round.”
I hope so, thought Fred, sighing so gently that no one else heard, Maybe Angel’s what Cordelia needs… Maybe…
***
Usually, Angel didn’t go in for things like this. Social situations, parties and get togethers like the one he was attending tonight made him uncomfortable, mainly because his two modes with people were bite and avoid.
He’d vowed that tonight would be different.
Last night had been strange, to say the least. He’d spent most of the night chasing a demon across the better half of LA, only to wind up in a karaoke club and find himself enjoying talking to Cordelia Chase.
She’d changed a lot since high school. The way she held herself, the way she talked – everything was different about her. Angel suspected that underneath still lay the deeply sarcastic, biting young woman who wasn’t afraid to speak her mind but… Outside she was quieter, almost.
She’d grown up.
Unfortunately for Angel? He’d never changed.
The guilt had started not long after he’d left the club. How could he think of another woman when Buffy was back in Sunnydale? How could he think of even entertaining notions of just being around someone like Cordelia when the reason he’d left Buffy was because he’d come to realise he could never give her a normal life?
He was a hypocrite, he’d decided after a particular bout of brooding confusion. He was a hypocrite because six months down the line he’d be walking out on Cordelia, proclaiming the same thing.
It’s not you, it’s me… He might say, insulting her intelligence with the oldest blow off in the book. How can I give you something normal when I’m—Not?
Angel sighed, his mood blackening by the second as he spun the wheel of the GTX, knuckles tight on the wheel.
Why am I going? He asked himself for only about the thousandth time that hour, glancing over at the small gift bag on the seat. He’d gone shopping earlier that night, actually braving the Beverly Center mall and picking up a small, tasteful silver necklet for Cordelia’s friend.
He might be out of the loop on parties, but he knew that you didn’t turn up at one on the arm of someone who was actually invited, without bringing a gift.
He turned the corner to Caritas, pulling up to the large industrial parking lot and shutting off the engine.
I could just go in there and tell her that something came up… Angel pondered, staring dead ahead of him as a knuckleheaded guy and his girlfriend pulled up in the car in front of him. Tell her that there’s a demon… Some business I need to attend to?
The more he thought about that idea, the more he liked it—Until he thought about Cordelia, actually being a decent person for all of half an hour and listening to his stories, telling her some of his own.
Sighing, Angel got out of the car and headed down into Caritas, only having to pass through the barriers once this time before being granted safe passage.
The club didn’t look any different than it had the night before. No pretty banners or balloons, nothing to signal that this was indeed a birthday party, until Angel cottoned on. 21st century and banners, balloons and the like were probably carbondated. Maybe the classier kind of birthday party just didn’t have those things now, instead favouring the normal look for the surprise element perhaps?
He looked over the heads of the crowd, slightly bigger than last night he was pleased to note, before he saw her, standing at the bar and glancing around, taking a sip from her glass every so often.
He walked over, trying to smile but not look serial-killer stalkeryish – when she pulled out her phone, dialling a number.
“Gunn? It’s Cordelia…” She started, “Listen, our pigeon stool’s nowhere to be seen. I’m gonna finish my drink, say goodbye to Lorne then head home, okay?”
Angel blinked, startled. Same Cordelia, same cell phone – hell, same bar as last night… Exact same words, except this time, she’d said another name. Gunn.
Same everything.
Different feeling.
Last night, he’d been almost mildly surprised at seeing her in this bar, in LA. Now, there was dread, fear almost. What the hell was with the big sense of déjà vu he was getting? Was this some kind of joke?
“Cordelia?”
She looked up and there, just like last night, was the same smile that almost split her face, the same surprised look in her eyes.
“Oh my God, Angel? What are you doing here?”
Angel blinked again, staring at her. “What’s… I…”
“Gee,” She smiled tentatively, “I didn’t think that’d be such a toughie. Are you okay, Angel?”
I’m not okay. Angel continued to look at her, watching the curve of her lips for that telltale ‘gotcha’ smile. Nothing came. Instead, Cordelia just looked increasingly worried, glanced down at his crotch area for the leather pants and then back up again.
“Okay, wait. You’re not, like, evil right? I mean, are you…” Cordelia hooked her fingers into claws; leaned forward and screwed up her face into the same cute-as-hell look she’d given him last night, “Grrrr, still?”
“Yeah,” Said Angel softly, almost disbelievingly, “There’s not actually a cure for that.”
“Did you just crack a joke?” She looked at him, surprised.
Angel guessed he had just cracked a joke – albeit sarcastic, like it had been. Those were the exact words he’d used last night… The exact words she’d used. What the hell’s going on?
“Cordelia—”
She moved forward before he could get the rest of the sentence out, wrapping her arms around him in a hug.
Angel was speechless. There was no party here tonight, no banners and balloons. Cordelia was here, just like she’d been last night – dressed differently, hair hanging down around her face – but it was like living that night all over again.
He held her close for a moment, before she stepped back, looking up at him and smiling again. “So what are you doing here?”
“I… Business.” He lied, feeling his heart sink a little.
Cordelia’s bullshit-o-meter had always been high. Tonight, it seemed, it was higher. She looked pointedly at the gift bag in his hands, raising her eyebrows. “Dating business?”
He looked down at the gift he’d bought for ‘Fred’, wondering whether he’d dreamt everything that had happened last night. On the stage, the lights were shining brightly, Lorne singing again, a different song.
“Angel?”
He turned his attention back to Cordelia, puzzled. “I—”
“Is Buffy here? Is that who you’re meeting?” She hopped off her stool, looking around the club for the rest of the Sunnydale crew, her expression growing increasingly more worried.
“Buffy and I… We broke up.” Said Angel, gently, watching the same expression pass across her face.
Sympathy.
Angel felt none of the anger he’d felt last night. Confusion maybe, sympathy… A little sadness even, but none of the anger. Something was wrong with Cordelia – and he intended to figure out what.
“Love sucks, huh?” She asked, trying to pave over her conversational faux-pas.
“I guess it does.” Angel nodded, giving a little smile. “So, what about you? What’re you doing in LA?”
He listened in silence as she told him the exact same things she had last night – even nodded and smiled in all the right places. But as he listened, Angel could feel his heart sinking even more.
He hadn’t dreamt last night, he knew that for certain – this wasn’t even déjà vu, something was wrong, very wrong.
“As you can see my plan didn’t work out,” Cordelia continued, unaware that Angel was barely taking in what she was saying. “My first acting gig? A national, by the way, I got set up to be part of some televised cult sacrifice. I got rescued by Groo and Doyle and from there, my part in the whole helping the helpless deal from great sucking evil was sealed, only it was my idea to start charging the helpless and get a little money to actually, y’know, buy stuff?”
Angel smiled again, wondering how long he could keep this up before he started looking like creepy serial killer man. As a general rule, he didn’t smile. Smiling tended to welcome people into talking to him, into introducing themselves and making the kind of small talk that Angel avoided like the plague.
He didn’t smile. He brooded. It was a simple fact of life, like… People. People like Cordelia. They were the typical kind of girl, bitchy, shallow, vapid – they didn’t change.
Except Cordelia had changed. She’d changed so much that Angel barely recognised the girl sitting in front of him and now, he’d been drawn deeper into her life than he’d ever imagined. He wanted to know what was going on, why he was getting the biggest sense of déjà vu ever imagined while she couldn’t remember a thing about last night.
He wanted to know why he felt drawn to her when this was Cordelia, the girl from Sunnydale who’d made Buffy’s life a living hell at every opportunity.
Angel wanted to know why he was beginning to look at Cordelia in a whole different light than he would have been if he hadn’t met her last night.
“Plumcake!” From behind him, the green demon he’d been introduced to the night before approached. Same demon, different coloured suit and a drink in his hand, smiling broadly as he came upon the pair, “How nice to see you gracing our presence again… Who’s our friend?”
Before Cordelia could introduce them, Angel turned. “I’m Angel… Lorne, right?” He asked, eyes narrowed.
Cordelia was shocked. She stared at the pair open-mouthed for a moment before a look of ‘duh’ passed across her face. “Oh, you guys have met?”
“Not exactly.” Said Angel, tersely, his eyes never leaving Lorne’s. Last night, the guy had been as frosty as hell, wanting Angel out of there before things got ugly, he presumed.
“I… Uh…” Lorne’s eyes shifted to Cordelia, trying to regain some of his composure. “Cordelia, honey, you wanna go get me a drink? Angel and I, we have some unfinished business to attend to.”
“You’re damn right we do.” Angel snarled under his breath, watching as Cordelia picked up her own drink, puzzled, heading away from them and to the bar. He turned on Lorne again, eyebrows drawn together in a frown.
He didn’t care where they were – he wanted answers, wanted to know just what the hell was going on tonight and when, exactly, he’d fallen head first into the twilight zone.
“Calm down, Angelcakes…” Said Lorne, wondering where the hell Wesley and all his explanations had gotten to. “I’ll explain everything, I promise, I just need you to calm down, okay?”
Angel glared at him, aware that there was a No Violence clause in the club but stepping forward anyway. “Look, I know something’s going on and—”
“That’s enough, Angel.”
The owner of the voice came to stand in front of him, right next to Lorne – his expression the same. For a moment, Angel was startled. The last time he’d seen him was back in Sunnydale three years ago, being carried from the remains of Sunnydale high school on a stretcher.
“Wesley?” He looked different. No longer the stuffy, suited Watcher, Wesley had a rugged look to him, a tired look on his face that Angel suspected a good nights sleep would be nowhere near to fixing.
“I understand you’re confused,” Said Wesley in the clipped British tone Angel was used to, “But practically manhandling Lorne in his own establishment is no way to get answers.”
“I wasn’t…” Angel began but from the look on Wesley’s face, argument was futile. He’d get his answers, providing he behaved like a human being about this. And maybe, thought Angel, if I don’t ask too many questions.
“Can we use your office?” Wesley glanced at Lorne, an unspoken understanding passing between the two.
Lorne nodded, giving a little head tilt to signal that Cordelia was on her way over. “Plumcake, 3 o clock and approaching fast…” He murmured under his breath.
The three men turned, seeing her balancing a tray of drinks in her hands. “Okay, I got a Seabreeze, a pigs blood and a non-alcoholic beverage for Wesley. I think I got it covered.”
“You saw me come in?” Asked Wesley, realising that he wasn’t as stealthy as he might have hoped.
“Gunn told me you were coming.” She smiled.
“Oh.” Wesley smiled somewhat tightly, though Cordelia didn’t seem to notice, before taking his drink from the tray. “Listen, Cordelia, Angel and I have some business we need to attend to, so—”
Before Angel knew what was happening, the tray of drinks had gone up in the air, spattering across the back wall of the club.
Cordelia reared backwards, clutching her head.
He was by her side in an instant, stopping her from hitting the floor as his arms wound around her. Cordelia cried out in agony, rocking forwards as pain racked her entire body.
Angel felt useless – completely unable to understand what was happening or do something about it as Cordelia’s arms flailed, fingers scrabbling for purchase to hold onto something – anything. Wesley and Lorne shared a look, before Cordelia stopped crying out, becoming still in Angel’s arms.
She buried her face in Angel’s chest and he could feel the whimpers through his coat, his hands tightening at the small of her back. “Easy, easy… It’s okay.” He murmured, though everything was clearly not okay.
“Wesley, you wanna explain what’s going on now?” He asked darkly, not letting Cordelia go for a second. The closer she was to him, the better he felt, the more he felt like he was actually doing something.
“I think your explanation just took a back seat,” Said Wesley, softly, taking Cordelia’s arm as she looked up, leading her over to a seat as Angel and Lorne looked on. “What did you see?”
***
For Cordelia, the streets had passed by in a blur. They’d dropped her off at her apartment an hour ago, Fred already there with an ice pack and a hot bath (nothing that Phantom Dennis couldn’t already provide), armed with a worried look on her face.
“What’d you see? Are you okay?”
Questions. Always questions. Like she wouldn’t tell them what she saw? Or like she was going to say, “Well actually? No. My head’s splitting apart with the severe suck-fest drool-o-rama vision I have going on but please, sit down, eat my food, wait around until the guys come back and tell you that hey, Cordy-watch is over… You can go home now!”
Moaning softly, she pressed her fingertips against her forehead.
“So this guy just showed up?” Asked Fred, softly. “This… This Angel guy?”
She could feel flesh ripping, bones snapping as the demon tore into its victim with teeth as sharp as knives.
“Yeah,” Cordelia murmured, wishing that Fred would just stop talking. “He just turned up at the club, looked at me sorta weird and started asking me all these questions.”
“Questions?”
God, if she had to explain one more thing her head was going to explode, seriously. The Powers That Be? Not exactly lacking with the visions lately and the more the Powers sent the visions? The more her head hurt.
“Questions.” Cordelia repeated softly, feeling the dull throbbing behind her right eye growing worse. “It was weird, y’know? It was like he was looking at me and… And expecting something and… Well, I didn’t know what the hell he wanted. I was just thankful he wasn’t ripping my throat out.”
Screaming, so much screaming… Was it ever going to stop?
The silence outside her head made her look up. Fred was never silent – she was always mulling something over, mumbling to herself about numbers and figures that meant nothing to Cordelia. “Oh, he’s good now,” She nodded, feeling like rocks were dropping inside her head, “Totally throat-ripping free.”
“Uhm, that doesn’t really make me feel better.”
Cordelia looked at Fred, “Long story. But Angel’s good, most of the time at least. Providing he doesn’t get all groiny with someone.”
“Groiny?” Fred was almost afraid to ask.
“Y’know, biblical,” Cordelia snorted, “As in the com-shuk me vibe that Groo had going on when he first came to LA and—Speaking of which, where is he today? He is coming back for your birthday tomorrow, right?”
Did she really have to ask? Groo wouldn’t miss something as important as this. It was Fred’s first birthday back in this dimension, the first birthday since she’d been spirited away through the portal in the Los Angeles Public Library and Cordelia was determined to make a big deal out of it.
She’d invited Fred’s parents, two of the nicest people she’d ever had the fortune to meet, and had organised the biggest get together that Caritas had ever, or would ever see.
It was gonna be huge – providing that things like visions tonight didn’t get in the way. Tomorrow, Chase Investigations was closed for business and the partying would commence. Groo had to be there.
“Of course,” Said Fred, light brown curls bobbing as she nodded her head. “He wouldn’t miss it.”
Cordelia smiled. Of course he wouldn’t miss it, this was Groo, after all. “Okay, I hate to be Ms. Anti-Social and everything but…”
“It’s okay,” Fred stood up, gathering her things together as she got off Cordelia’s bed. “I can just sit waitin’ out in the living room with Dennis until the guys come back.”
“Fred, you can go home.” Cordelia reminded her, “The Powers? Not gonna hit me with a double whammy tonight, trust me.” Or at least they wouldn’t if they knew what was good for them.
“I-I know, I just… I told Wesley I’d stick around while he, Gunn and Angel went to—”
“Angel?” Cordelia looked at Fred, stunned. “What does Angel have to do with my vision?”
Okay, this one was new. She had a vision and Angel was tagging along? This bizarro-world was getting kinda tired. Since when did he care what happened to anyone other than Buffy?
“Well uh, Wesley said they might need some help on this stuff I… I can go check if you want me to?”
Cordelia rubbed her temples in concentric circles, more puzzled than usual. Sure, she got that Angel was, like, stronger than human and everything. Hell, she’d even go out on a limb to say that he was a good fighter, the whole four times she’d seen him do it but…
Tagging along to solve her vision brain? What was wrong with the staff they had? And could they honestly afford taking someone else—
Woah there, Jumpy! She told herself sharply, There’s nothing to say that Angel’s even considering becoming staff. He’s a—A guy, he could just be tagging along for the whole violence thing and… Cordelia blinked, trying to clear her mind.
“No,” She told Fred, “It’s okay, I just thought that maybe… Never mind. I’m gonna get some rest, okay?”
She watched as Fred nodded, fussing around her for a couple of minutes before finally shutting off the light, wishing Cordelia pleasant dreams and shutting the door behind her.
She breathed out, slowly, watching the shadows as they changed shape on her wall. Well, tonight was… Interesting, I guess. First, Angel shows up and drops the bombshell from Not-Hell in the form of him and Buffy no longer doing the whole angst-o-rama thing and then, vision, and apparent weirdness with the gang that I’m not part of. Could this night get any weirder?
Of course, it could. She’d been fighting the good fight for just over two years now, things could always get weirder, or worse, which was the usual way for things to go round here.
Cordelia blinked, closed her eyes and felt a searing flash of pain. I know, already! They’re working on it… It wasn’t like they listened. They never listened. It didn’t matter which vision happened – knife in the eye guy, eyeball in the back of the head girl – they always came back to her, asked why they couldn’t be saved, why the Powers hadn’t given her the visions sooner.
Sometimes, Cordelia thought she was going out of her mind. Other times, she knew she was. You didn’t dream about things like that and not be high up on the crazy-o-meter. Some of the time, they weren’t even dreams, they were just… Visions. Mini-visions, she supposed, showing her things that had gone and things that were going to come unless the guys got with the program just a little bit quicker.
“Right now would be good, guys,” She muttered to the ceiling, watching as the girl being eaten by the nasty-looking demon flashed in front of her face, “Right now would be really good.”