Chapter 2 – Visitors, Vampires and Visions, oh My!
Tapping her spoon lightly against her mug of coffee, Cordelia read over the daily newspaper, catching up on what was happening in the world of the ‘Dale right now.
The new Mayor (thankfully not Mayor Wilkins the 7th) was planning new renovations to City Hall, there was an increase in suspicious deaths in Sunnydale (seriously, how long did it take them to catch on?) and some star (big in the 80’s, if she recalled correctly) was trying to revive her flagging career with a biography signing at the Mall that week.
“Give it up already,” Cordelia told the picture attached to the featurette of the singer, shaking her head, “Your career was over 15 years ago, at least.”
It was early morning, crack of Dawn early morning and no-one but her in the Summers household was awake. The Potentials, following a late night’s slayage, were all sleeping in various positions on Buffy’s cramped living room floor.
Upstairs, Buffy and the others were safely in the land of nod which left Cordelia (if you didn’t include Spike, him being like a non-person and all) sitting and grabbing an early morning breather before everything started up again.
Lorne, as he’d insisted last night, had gone to a hotel room, declaring he’d be by after lunch (“because we night owls never raise before then, Plumcake…”). Angel and the others were currently snoozing at Xander’s, giving new meaning to the word cramped.
She had the kitchen to herself, which was just the way she liked it.
Until Doyle appeared.
Cordelia got such a fright she knocked her mug over, spilling black coffee all over the Formica bench.
“Is that any way to greet a guy?” Doyle demanded, smiling that smile that Cordelia had wished she could see for months after he’d– Oh.
“I know what you are.” She frowned, grabbing some kitchen roll from the other counter. “You’re not him.”
“Who else would I be, Princess?”
Princess… Cordelia blinked, her hand stilling against the counter, her heart aching. Beneath her fingers, the warm liquid soaked onto the kitchen roll and going right through.
“I expected more conversation, truth be told.” Doyle grinned, making himself comfortable as he leaned against Buffy’s refrigerator, “Maybe a ‘Doyle, lovely to see ya’ or a… ‘Damnit, you waited this long?'”
“You’re not him.” Cordelia said again, and for a moment, she thought it would all be okay if she just kept telling herself that. All she had to do was repeat that mantra, It’s not him, it’s not him, it’s not him…
“You mad at me for the visions?”
Doyle’s question caught her off guard. She looked up and blinked a couple of times, regarding him with weary eyes. “Huh?”
“You,” He said again, “Mad at me for the visions ’cause… If I’d known what was gonna happen, I’d have never… Well, y’know.”
“Put me through excruciating pain? Almost killed me and got me possessed by an apocalypse causing demon thing? Which one would you ‘never’ have done?”
Doyle (no, not Doyle) looked uncomfortable and damnit, he should. Cordelia glared at him, mopping up the rest of the coffee with another piece of kitchen roll.
She tossed the soakened tissues in the trash, turning back towards him with her patented ‘don’t piss me off’ look. “Well?”
“I’m sorry for all of that,” He told her, “But I’m not sorry for fallin’ in love with you, Princess. Never have been.”
Cordelia swallowed, hard. Not real, not real, not real… “Look, I get it, okay? Big First Evil, taunty with the memories of my poor dead friend and everything but… Over this! So very over this. And some big bad isn’t gonna make me weak in the knees just ’cause it can put on a certain face and tell me things that it thinks I wanna hear.”
It looked genuinely puzzled (and it was so much easier to think of it as an ‘it’ and not as Doyle). It looked like Cordelia had just clued it in to some big secret that had previously been unheard of.
“Maybe,” It conceded, “But if I was evil, wouldn’t I be telling you things you didn’t wanna hear?”
Great. Evil and using logic. This is just great.
“Not necessarily.” She muttered, shaking her head. “You could be like… The Anti-Evil or something. There to perplex me and make my life a living hell that way.”
“Oh, there’s time for the living hell, darlin’.” It shook its head just like she had, but its movements were slow, sad. It was sympathising with her.
“You know what’s gonna come down, you saw it in that vision of yours. Everything the Beast promised, this evil down here’s gonna implement it and… You gotta pick what side you’re on.”
“I have my side,” Said Cordelia, firmly. “I know my place in life and–“
“That’s not exactly true any more, is it?” It lifted a hand, scratching at the side of its head and the gesture was so Doyle-like, it made Cordelia want to cry.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She snapped, biting the inside of her cheek to keep from bursting into tears. Of course she knew her place in life. It was by Angel’s side, wasn’t it?
She’d promised him that she’d be there, the day he Shanshued… She’d be by his side.
“You do know what I’m talking about, Cordelia.” It nodded, wisely. Evil, the very First Evil. Of course it was wise – or pretending to be – it’d seen the very dregs of humanity, the worst in people. How else would it look at her like that if it hadn’t?
“It’s sad to say it, Princess, but you and Angel? You ain’t never gonna get back to the way you once were. You’re not the type to linger when things just aren’t there any more…”
“Get out.” Cordelia whispered, not daring to let her voice get any louder. She couldn’t look at it, couldn’t let her gaze move up because it would see that it was right. Things were never going to be the same between her and Angel, not now, not ever.
Why she was even sticking around when it was so obvious was–
“You okay, luv?”
The voice behind her startled her so much that Cordelia spun, fist raised and ready to lash out.
Spike was quicker. He grabbed her wrist and held it in his hand for almost a full second before his eyebrows drew downwards in confusion. “What’s up?” He asked, lowering her fist back to her side.
“I just had a visit.” She breathed out, loosening her hand from the fist it’d been balled into.
“The First.” It wasn’t a question. “Who?”
“The Mick.” She smiled tightly, “Y’know, the one who’s spine you threatened to snap two years ago when you tortured Angel?”
Spike grimaced and in his eyes, Cordelia could see the pain parade Angel had travelled down every day for as long as she could remember. “I remember.” He murmured darkly, stepping back a little.
“Sorry.” She said without thinking, not knowing exactly why she was apologising. “I didn’t mean to– Coffee?”
“No, thanks.” Spike shook his head, “Not exactly my beverage of choice.”
Without thinking, Cordelia went to the fridge and pulled out a packet of pigs blood, grabbing a mug. Before Spike had time to protest, she’d pierced the bag with a pair of scissors and was in the process of watching the blood spray into the cup.
Spike’s stomach growled, making Cordelia look up. “Was that you?”
If he could have blushed, he would have – vampires weren’t exactly prone to bodily functions like a rumbling stomach. “Hunger pangs,” He explained, “Haven’t eaten in a while.”
“Here.” She handed him the cup and sat herself back down at the counter, pouring out another cup of coffee. “Sleep well?”
“Like the dead.” Spike deadpanned, giving her a strange look before morphing into his vampiric visage and draining the cup of its contents.
He placed the cup back on the counter, gaining a well-deserved chorus of “Pig!” from Cordelia, before meeting her eyes. “So, what’d it say?”
“What?”
“The First.” Spike leaned against the counter, folding his arms across his chest. “What’d it say to you?”
“Oh, y’know, the usual…” Cordelia shrugged, “You’re going to die, yadda yadda, pick a side, yadda yadda…”
“That’s it?” Spike looked at her, curiously. “You look kinda rattled, luv… No offence.”
“None taken.” Said Cordelia, suddenly finding something very interesting in the bottom of her coffee cup. What was she supposed to do, pour her heart out to Spike, tell him what Doyle had said about Angel? About everything?
Sure, why not. And then she could take an ad out in the Sunnydale Gazette so that the hard-of-hearing population of Sunnydale would know all about her woes too.
“So what’s up with you and Captain Forehead then?” Spike asked, half heartedly.
“Huh?” Play it cool, thought Cordelia, maybe he’ll forget he asked.
“Angel.” Said Spike, arching the scarred eyebrow that, in Cordelia’s eyes, made him look all the more dangerous (and okay, maybe just a little sexy). “You and the Nancy Boy. I thought you two were pretty tight…”
“Me too.” Cordelia sighed, before she could stop herself. Okay, so this was progress. Instead of telling him what the First had said she was telling him about her woes with Angel and oh God, just kill her now.
She fingered her necklace nervously, searching for a way to bridge the gap in conversation. “We uh… We just…”
“You two shagged, huh?” Spike asked, half-bemused.
“Excuse me?!”
“Y’know,” Spike leered, “Shagged, bumped uglies, got groiny with one another–“
“I’m familiar with the concept, yeah.” Cordelia snapped, interrupting his little tirade. “And for your information, no, we didn’t.”
Not for lack of wanting to on my part… Thought Cordelia, forlornly. And, if I’m right about him, which I think I am. His too. So what the hell was with them?
Why couldn’t they just get it on or together or whatever the cool kids were calling it these days?
Simple. Because Cordelia had let memories that weren’t even hers build a wall between them and now, that wall stood like an unclimbable mountain. With a castle. And some big freakin’ dragon guarding the gate.
The damsel was no closer to being rescued than Andrew was to becoming 15 per cent more manly.
Spike looked at her, “I just thought–“
“Well, you thought wrong.” She told him with a sigh. “You saw what it was like last night. Hell, that was one of the tamer versions of the Cordelia and Angel show…”
Cordelia rolled her eyes, sarcasm being her best weapon of defence right now, even if Spike wasn’t attacking. She took another drink of her coffee, waiting for Spike to say something. Didn’t he want to know what was really going on with them?
Why they seemed to be fighting at, like, every opportunity? If it’d been anyone else they would have asked already but Spike seemed content to just look at her, try to figure it out on his own.
Good luck with that, Bucko, thought Cordelia dryly, taking another drink of her coffee, If Angel can’t figure it out then you haven’t got a cat in hell’s chance of–
“So you’re in love with Angel, that much I get,” said Spike, startling Cordelia. A smile spread across his face, one of those ‘ha, gotcha!’ smiles and Cordelia wanted to kick him for looking so goddamn smug.
“It’s the other stuff that’s confusing me. What the hell happened between you two?”
“Oh, you’re good.” She said, tersely (after all, it wasn’t like it wasn’t common knowledge or anything, was it?), “I mean you can just look at me with the big forlorn eyes and just know that I’m in love with him?”
“You hurt me, pet, really you do.” Spike smirked, amused. He patted his shirt down, taking his cigarettes from his pocket before offering Cordelia one.
She declined with a shake of her head, watching as he stuck one in his mouth. Spike was here for the long haul, it seemed, offering her a shoulder to cry on.
It seemed stupid – hell, more than stupid. Who’d have thought that three months after being zapped up into the heavens to become a Higher Being she’d be sitting here pouring her heart out to Spike over coffee?
“So what’s up then?”
Cordelia tapped her nails against the counter, sighing. “I just… I just thought it’d be different, I guess. I came back from high up, no memories… All I had was Angel, the guys. I didn’t have memories, so they gave me new ones and then…”
“What?” Spike asked, lighting his cigarette, despite the eye roll from Cordelia, “Then what?”
“They found a spell,” Said Cordelia quietly, “Lorne, he– He got my memories back only by the time I remembered him doing it? I remembered all the other stuff too…”
“Like what?”
“All the stuff the Powers had shown me,” she whispered, “Like, everyone he killed. Every victim Angelus ever made bleed just because he could. I know it wasn’t him, Spike, I always did know that but… Seeing it, feeling what they’d felt like I’d been through it all terrified me.
I didn’t know how to get back from that and by the time I did everything between Angel and I was just… Gone. Destroyed. I don’t know how to bridge the gap between us and I don’t even think he wants to try.”
Cordelia paused, took a deep breath. She hadn’t said that much since the day she had come back and Angel had been trying to convince her that this was all real, that she was their friend and hadn’t been kidnapped.
She blinked, staring at Spike – just when, exactly, had he been the right one to open up to? Surely that should be reserved for someone she actually liked?
“Wow,” She murmured, looking down at her cup, “Once I open my mouth I just don’t stop, huh?”
“Not your fault,” Spike shrugged, taking a draw of his cigarette, “You just needed someone to talk to, that’s all.”
“So what d’you suggest, Dr. Spike?” Asked the brunette, dryly. “You seem to be the guy with the knowledge around here – well, in that you’re the only one that kinda makes sense.”
“That’s not a compliment,” Spike frowned, “Bloody Andrew lives here.”
Cordelia laughed. Last night had been… Well, interesting, she guessed. Andrew was like the biggest geek on the planet – right at home with Xander and all his oblique Star Trek references that Cordelia had never got three years ago when she’d been dating the doofus.
He’d showed her his Big Board, talked about The First like he was on kinda-friendly terms with it, just because it had showed up and decided that he was the big gun of the hour.
Andrew was a dork. Thankfully, having been around Xander for most of her young adult life, Cordelia knew exactly how to deal with him. The tongue mightn’t be as acidic as it had once been but the eyebrow? Still worked wonders.
As soon as Cordelia had arched the eyebrow (after Andrew had referred to her as the ‘Reformed-One’) he’d scuttled off upstairs, leaving Cordelia and Wesley alone.
They’d talked, briefly, Wesley enquiring in his usual halting manner about how things were progressing with Angel until Cordelia had laughed and said that things weren’t progressing at all. If anything, things were regressing. And wasn’t that the truth?
And then there was that avenue, too. Wesley. Wesley who she’d barely talked to since her return. Wesley who was still obviously smarting from the entire ‘my-friends-abandoned-me’ deal and, seriously, had she been possessed then too?
Because, hello, there were issues with that. Major issues with that.
Cordelia looked at Spike, grinning her apology for the backhanded compliment she’d given before shaking her head, “I guess maybe it’s just time I faced facts…”
“And what facts are those, luv?”
“The ones where me and Angel maybe aren’t meant to be after all?” It was surprising how much that thought hurt. The First had said it to her not two minutes ago and Cordelia had forced it from her mind, determined that if she was going to think it, she’d think it by her rules, only…
Well these were her rules. She was standing here being all inner-moppet spanky with Spike and she didn’t want to admit that she wasn’t supposed to be with Angel. She didn’t want to not think about the thousand different moments where Angel had been more than her friend, only she’d been too stupid to notice.
That night at the ballet, where they’d been possessed enough into undressing each other. Her birthday, when she’d been launched out of her body by the ubersuck of visions and Angel had just been this close to saying that he loved her, that he couldn’t imagine living without her.
He was going to say that, she was sure of it. And then, all the other moments since then. That moment upstairs in the Hyperion, where they’d almost kissed and it had all been so perfect and… And she’d stopped!
She’d stopped that kiss and now, now they were just nowhere. No relationship, hell, barely even a friendship and she was sitting here talking to Spike – Spike – about all of this!
Stubbing out his cigarette on the counter, Spike stood up, drawing her attention back to him. “Look, I’m gonna level with you. I’ve spent a hundred plus years around that wanker and honestly? He’s never changed. He’s a bloody martyr, Cordelia.
That’s what he is – just gotta take the path with the most angst down it or else it’s not a good path at all. Talk to him, tell him what’s going on. Sooner or later you’re gonna become just another reason for him to brood and you don’t want that any more than I do, right?”
“That sounds great,” said Cordelia, miserably, “I’ll just walk up to him later and say ‘hey, I’m in love with you, get with the program, Mister!’ Pfft!” Her eyes narrowed, “How come you make it sound so easy when I’ve noticed some pretty hefty tension between you and a certain Slayer?”
Spike’s entire body language changed, closed off, “That’s different.”
“Why?” Cordelia’s gaze softened. “Look, I did the whole share my pain thing, now it’s your turn.”
“Sorry luv,” Spike shook his head, “Not in for a round of that unless I got my pal Jack Daniels sitting alongside me if y’know what I mean… Just… Talk to him. Tell him what’s going on. It’s the only way you’re gonna get out of what funk you and the wanker are in.”
Cordelia watched carefully, folding her arms across her chest. “Y’know, one of these days? You’re gonna have to do all this inner moppet spanking on yourself.”
“Maybe so,” Spike conceded, nodding, “But not here. Not today. You gonna tell him?”
A pained look passed across her face. “Tell him what? That I love him? That I’m sorry? There’s a lot to tell him, Spike,” She said softly, “Only I don’t know where to start.”
“The beginning,” he replied, decisively, “Start at the beginning. Tell him you screwed up, you’re sorry – and if it’s not too much trouble for the brooding wonder, you’d like to move on while you’ve still got young blood in those veins.”
Cordelia sighed, “You think it’ll work?”
Spike shrugged, “From the sounds of it? You’ve tried everything but being honest. Give it a shot.”