28: Trinity Baptist Church, Eastside, Sunnydale
Angel parked the Plymouth at the church lot far enough away from the building itself to avoid any damage. There was no telling how high on the Richter scale this earthquake was going to be or if they were going to be at its epicenter.
“We should stay clear of the church,” Angel suggested as he held out a hand to help Cordelia out of the car. Watching the way her smile brightened her face, he let his grasp linger a moment or two longer than necessary before releasing it.
“I remember there being a stone bench somewhere over there,” Cordelia pointed toward a small copse of flowering trees.
They stepped off the paved surface of the parking lot and onto the close-cropped grass leading toward the graveyard designed in an arc behind and around the sides of the church. Angel walked beside her, his hand reaching out toward her lower back and then hastily dropping to his side. “You’ve been here on patrol with the others?”
A look of surprised followed, her eyes widening and lush mouth shaping into a soft open circle. “No, it wasn’t on patrol. Um, my grandfather is buried here.”
“Oh.” Angel did not really know what to say. The probability of dying of a vampire bite in Sunnydale was no doubt a lot higher than most natural causes. He did not want to know that a vampire was responsible for her grandfather’s death feeling almost as if it would make him culpable.
Having learned that Cordelia preferred to get things out in the open, he decided not to keep his question to himself. “It— it wasn’t a vampire, was it?”
Cordelia shook her head, “No. It was just an accident.”
“Sorry,” Angel muttered knowing that the word inadequately expressed what he wanted to say.
“It’s okay, really,” Cordelia assured him, giving his hand a quick squeeze. “I didn’t even know him. My mom hadn’t seen him for years before he died. I was a lot younger, but I do remember coming here for the funeral.”
Cordelia pointed out the headstone marking her grandfather’s grave. “That’s the one.”
“Do you want to…?” Angel’s voice faded away as he gestured toward the grave.
“No,” she answered hastily, shaking her head and walking back toward the stone bench. “Let’s just sit over here. It’s weird enough that I’m driving around town in his car.”
Angel stopped in his tracks to glance over his shoulder at the Plymouth, which was still visible from this angle. “I thought you borrowed it from your boyfriend.”
Snorting, Cordelia patted the bench beside her and waited until Angel sank down onto it before responding. “Rumors of me having a hot new boyfriend might have been a little exaggerated.”
Buffy and the others had certainly been convinced of the fact. Although the subject was really none of his business, he did not like the idea that some young college punk might take advantage of Cordelia’s recently broken heart. Not that he dwelled on the idea, but he just hated the thought of some Xander Harris stand-in fumbling around in the dark with her. The idea pissed him off a lot more than it should.
“So you’re saying the boyfriend everyone has been talking about is really…”
“My dead grandpa,” Cordelia sighed into a wry pout trying to appear unaffected by the reality of the situation. Sadness clouded her eyes even as she quipped, “Bummer, isn’t it?”
Maybe it was this whole Team Chase idea that Cordelia had drilled into his head, but he felt protective of her and this strange new friendship. A sense of relief swelled up in his chest preceding a rising wave of pure possessiveness, forcing Angel to acknowledge that he felt more than the simple bonds of friendship. He wanted her, too. The confirmation that she was not spending time with a new lover tugged hard at something primal where his soul’s conscience and dark, demonic depths faded to instinct.
Despite going to the deli and the movie theater together, this was not a date, he forced himself to remember. They were just patrol partners. He was still a vampire, and she was not Buffy Summers, the girl he still professed to love despite her continued refusal to renew their relationship. Angel knew he should feel guilty. Not only because he had enjoyed picturing the sudden death of Cordelia’s new boyfriend at his hands, but because until now he had not even considered his thoughts to be a betrayal.
Cordelia’s physical beauty never failed to draw a reaction, or to make his demon senses fill with lustful thoughts, even during those early times when he was more frightened of how he would respond to the overt flirtation. Years of practice allowed him to suppress unwanted feelings, controlling needs and urges that were better left unexplored.
There was a side to Cordelia that she hid away from the world. Things that did not fit so smoothly with the heartless bitch image she often projected. Having just discovered the tiniest chink in Cordelia’s armor, Angel felt his own defenses peeling away.
This was the first time he felt a tug at his heart, his soul’s reaction to her loss. Cordelia’s soft pout made him want to touch his lips to hers, kissing away any lingering regrets of missed moments or failed relationships. Make her forget anyone else at least for this one moment of indulgence. The need to taste her, opening her up to slow, sensual exploration, discovering her mouth’s warmth and the sweetness inside made a powerful appeal, and he nearly went there, his tongue sliding across the crease of his mouth in anticipation.
But, there it was, the deep pang of guilt preventing him from turning thought to action. Just in time to stop him from doing something foolish, something they both might later regret. The expectant look on her face reminded him that she had said something, and suggested that she had no idea just how much he wanted to kiss her just then.
Angel’s grunt of acknowledgement earned him a scowl and an eye roll. She nudged him with an elbow. “Sheesh! I know my love life is depressing, but you don’t have to rub it in.”
“It’s not,” he assured hastily, “and I wasn’t rubbing anything.”
With a grin spreading across her face, Cordelia teased naughtily, “We’re talking about my love life, not yours, doofus.”
Wondering how he constantly walked right into these things, Angel tried to change the subject. “Your grandfather may be the explanation for the car, but he doesn’t account for the reason you’re always late to the Scooby meetings.”
Cordelia’s radiant smile dimmed fast and her eyes darted evasively from his. The steady beat of her heart quickened, her body tensing under his unwavering gaze. He waited for her to speak, expecting her usual frankness, but the silence spread awkwardly between them.
When she lifted her head and he saw the unshed tears glistening in her eyes, he knew that he had hit on something deeply personal. Cursing inwardly that he had nearly acted on his lust, his need for some kind of connection, when she was actually troubled about something, Angel reached out cupping her face in his hand, his thumb trailing along the path of a single escaping tear. She nuzzled against his palm for only an instant before jerking away from his touch.
When she looked at him again, the tears were gone. A veil of icy determination covered the pain he had glimpsed. “A little mystery is good for the soul,” Cordelia told him as she walked away from the bench, standing with her back to him.
Angel followed. Stopping directly behind her, the shortened version of her name rolled off his lips as a plea, concern filling his voice. “Cordy, I won’t push you, but I want to help if you’ll let me.”
He stood there for a moment until the few inches separating them seemed too great a distance. Gently pulling her against him, Angel wrapped his arms around her waist. Cordy’s hands curled over his forearms crisscrossing with his as she leaned back against his chest.
Enveloped by him, Cordelia relaxed on a sigh as his cheek settled along the crown of her head. When she closed her eyes, she imagined his lips fleetingly pressing against her temple. A kiss of friendship and comfort, one intended to take her troubles away.
As if it was that easy.
Scene 29
The Wildwoods, Eastside Sunnydale
“Closer, closer, closer,” muttered Drusilla peering down the tree line along the edges of the cemetery with its neat little headstones all in rows. “My Angel is near. I can feel it.”
Spike did not doubt it even though she pointed toward the church at the other end of the cemetery. That seemed an unlikely place for a vampire to hang out, but Drusilla was never wrong about these things. Together, they slipped from the shadows of the trees and walked across the moonlit grounds.
Excitedly, Drusilla clapped her hands. Announcing, “She is with him,” even before they came into view.
“The Slayer will die,” Spike assured her even though there were quite a few things he had to say and do to the chit before he killed her.
Stopping in her tracks, Drusilla reminded sharply, “We are not here for her, you naughty boy. There will be time to toy with the Slayer later.”
Despite traveling together all of those miles from Brazil to California, Spike still had no idea what Drusilla was talking about. He had quickly grown tired of her happy tales of the good old days with Daddy dearest. Damned poof! Angelus was the last person he ever wanted to see again, souled or not.
Deep down, he understood the bond between them. Angelus made her, just as Drusilla made him. The love of one’s creator was an inescapable lure. Angelus loved nothing, but had claimed what was his when he wanted it allowing Drusilla the pleasures of her own creation when it suited him. Spike took any scraps of affection Drusilla had to give for he was devoted to her and took pleasure in the bloody trail of death they left in their wake.
Even now, Angelus remained the center of Drusilla’s world. It was his presence she still craved. His happiness she sought. Spike’s gut clenched with hate. That bastard deserved a painfully slow death, but that would not make Dru happy, would not win her loyalty, and would not bring her love back to him.
He would play along for now, Spike decided. Let Drusilla have her way with Angelus. They could hump like bunnies for all he cared as long as he got Dru back before the sunrise. “Bloody hell!” Part of him cared a helluva lot. Grabbing hold of her arm, Spike swung Drusilla around to face him. “You’re mine. You just remember that.”
Drusilla’s soft laughter tinkled like crystal. She nuzzled her cheek against his and then sucked his earlobe into her mouth leaving a red mark behind as her teeth clamped down for an instant. A playful growl sounded in his ear, but her words snapped, “It’s you who need to remember.”
Backing away, her dark eyes were intent, but mischievous. She put a finger to her lips and then gestured for him to follow. Spike let out a sigh that was half a growl and followed along.
Scene 30
Holy Cross Catholic Church, Eastside, Sunnydale
“Slayer, I don’t want no trouble,” the vampire begged for leniency.
Buffy twirled her stake in her hand. “Oh, it’s no trouble,” she quipped while taking deadly aim.
The sharp stake was a blur in motion as it left her hand imbedding deeply in the vampire’s chest in the space of a second. Buffy retrieved her stake and walked out of the dusty cloud of the vampire’s remains as they crumbled to the ground.
“Good thing you took care of that vamp now,” Xander commented as Buffy joined him and Willow on the back steps of Holy Cross Catholic Church. “I prefer not to have to worry about my neck in the middle of an earthquake.”
Glancing at her watch, Willow suggested that they move away to a safe distance from the church. “Almost time.”
Remembering the last time they were here, Buffy agreed. “This place has a habit of falling apart when we’re around. I’d rather not get buried in the rubble.”
Scene 31
Eden Memorial Park, Northeast Sunnydale
“So where do we start, G-man?”
Swallowing down his irritation, Giles slowly turned toward Faith who was leaning up against the trunk of his car. “I believe I asked you not to refer to me in that manner. Call me Giles or Rupert if you must. Until the Watcher’s Council deigns to send a permanent Watcher for you, I am responsible for you and therefore deserve some small iota of respect.”
“You got it, Rup.” Faith winked, flashing a dimpled grin that was pure tease. “So where do we start?”
Giles slung the duffel bag containing his crossbow and research materials over his shoulder. “This way,” he said walking in the direction of Eden Memorial Park. “It’s a new cemetery built over a mystical hot spot, perchance an excellent possibility for success. However, should we not find the obelisk there we shall head over the street to the Mount Sinai Memorial Gardens.”
The two small cemeteries were within walking distance of each other. “Sure you don’t want me to check one out while you’re at the other?”
It was tempting, Giles admitted. He knew that Faith’s teasing came as naturally as breathing to her. There were times when he convinced himself that Faith’s presence was a test of his patience. One Slayer was enough of a challenge, much less adding on another one with an independent streak and a rather large chip on her shoulder.
Declining her offer, he suggested they stick together for the duration of their patrol. When they passed the bus stop near the small church, Faith pointed to the bench where an advertisement showed the smiling face of Mayor Richard Wilkins urging the public to keep the streets of Sunnydale clean and tidy. “You ever met the mayor?”
“Once,” Giles commented distractedly, already thinking ahead to his plans for the obelisk once it was unearthed, “briefly.”
“He seems like a cool guy,” Faith’s sudden interest in public figures seemed out of place. “You think he’s up on the situation here in Sunnydale?”
Giles realized that Faith had met the man, but could not imagine the setting such a meeting took place. Mayor Wilkins was hardly the type to frequent the Bronze. “It is hardly likely that the mayor remains in the dark about the true nature of some of his citizens.”
“I get that. This town has some pretty scary crap to cover up,” Faith said with a short laugh. “Gotta keep the wool pulled over everyone’s eyes. Reality is just too scary for ’em.”
Sheer curiosity prompted Giles to ask, “Have you met the mayor?”
With her hands in her jeans jacket pockets, Faith shrugged, “Yeah, sorta. I was out looking for a new place and he was making speeches and kissing babies.”
“A new place?” It occurred to Giles that he had no idea where Faith lived. She came and went on her own.
Another shrug followed. “I got a line on something.”
“Uh, good,” Giles did not know what else to say. Noticing the teasing expression Faith usually wore was nowhere to be seen, he added, “I hope you would tell me if you needed some assistance.”
“I got it covered.”