Fingers reached down to the liquid pooled on the parquet floor rubbing together to test its consistency. A messy path of it trailed up the staircase. Footprints. Random droplets along the banister.
Passing in front of the soft glow of the hall lamp created a silhouette against the old wallpaper yellowed and worn by time. The trail led to an ajar door on the next level. It creaked as it was opened and closed shut.
The sound of a running shower was unmistakable.
Something on the floor caused a stumble. Sandals. Raising one up by its gilded strap showed a broken heel dangling by a thin connection. The shoes were moved to a tidy position under a chair to prevent further mishaps.
A red heap lay across the threshold of the open bathroom door. A sodden dress and tiny scraps of silky undergarments.
The foggy mirror showed no reflection.
Standing beneath the pulsating spray, Cordelia closed her eyes and tilted toward the water letting it run rivulets down the contours of her face and body. The shower felt glorious melting away knotted tension in her muscles.
Angel certainly gave her a workout tonight making moves she had never practiced. All of that strength and agility. Scary sexy. The simple seduction-on-the-beach scenario she planned had taken an unexpected turn.
They so needed to finish what they started.
Steam engulfed the interior of the shower. Her skin soaked it up. Hot. Just like Angel liked it. Anticipation made her tingle under the pulsating spray. She craved the touch of his hands, cool and wet, slipping across her heated skin, those knowing fingertips tracing droplets from one erogenous zone to another.
Just like the rain.
If only he would hurry up. They had slayers to patrol the perimeter and make certain it was secure. There was no need for him to do it himself. He was supposed to be here doing things that made her toes curl.
Stupid interfering prophecy.
Angel had really made an effort to make things special tonight. Out on the town with her guy. Romantic table for two, the ambiance, his adorable attempt at sweet talk. The fun of watching him eat—or at least strategically maneuvering food around his plate. Topped off with a stroll on the beach.
Perfect.
Until the clock struck midnight and their date turned into a creepy Wes Craven film. ‘Nightmare at the Marina’ starring Cordelia Chase.
Too bad memories couldn’t be edited the same way as films.
She’d keep the perfect Cordelia-Angel parts and leave the rest of the evening on the cutting room floor. Romantic dinner, hot boyfriend and seduction on the beach: IN. Spying, evil vampire bitch and ferocious storm: OUT.
Isobel was not what she expected despite having seen Angel’s drawing. Blondie so owed her a new pair of shoes and it certainly looked like she could afford it.
Just an observation.
Envy had nothing to do with it!
Much.
Turning around, Cordelia folded her arms on the tiles and leaned in letting the water sluice down her back. Despite the surrounding heat she shuddered at the memory of the beach.
Just how long had Isobel been there—watching them?
She’d been out there in the dark, amber eyes trained on them, waiting patiently, so patiently for the right moment to interrupt. Not because she had planned the perfect attack, when they were alone, and vulnerable, focused totally on each other.
No, Peeping Tomasina had other ideas roving around that one-tract mind of hers that involved Angel. Wasn’t it obvious that he was already taken? Guess she didn’t think a human ‘pet’ was much competition.
Pfft!
She obviously didn’t know Cordelia Chase.
The sudden chill of the outside air rushed in as the shower door opened.
All thoughts of Isobel vanished instantly. Angel. Her breath hitched in anticipation. Rushing ahead to the promise he’d made to make things up to her tonight. Ready now, she pressed her hands flat against the slick tile, body taut, waiting for his touch and the length of his hard body against hers.
A moan escaped in her eagerness, wanting him inside her without a moment longer passing by.
A cool touch pressed against her skin.
A hand.
Cordelia’s head snapped up from its relaxed position, eyes wide with the realization that it wasn’t Angel standing behind her. Skin crawling terror hit. The hand whipped up to smother her scream.
Streaming water splashed around them, but her assailant took no notice as she was jerked back and whirled out of the shower stall, naked and vulnerable. The bathroom mirror had partly steamed over. Cordelia could only see the outline of one reflection.
Frissons of fear caused her heart to beat rapidly. It was a vampire. Female. Isobel? Here. Now.
Impossible! The mansion was supposed to be a safe haven. She had Angel protecting her, two slayers, the watchers, a few spells and a couple of sidekicks! What more did it take?
It was Willow’s fault. Had to be. Willow must’ve screwed up the spell.
Cordelia struggled in vain, twisting and kicking, but ultimately unable to break the strong hold upon her. Reaching down to scratch at any body part she could reach, she came away with a handful of silk, the pattern unmistakable.
A muffled question sounded beneath the restraint of the hand over her mouth just as a cheek pressed against hers to whisper closely, “It’s time.”
Irony.
It was not lost on Buffy as she made her escape. Slipping out of the mansion. Dashing across the thickly overgrown lawn to the iron wrought fence. Up and over. Scaling it like no ordinary human could.
Running. Fast. Faster.
As if her life depended on it. Escaping, truthfully. Something she thought she had tried and gotten out of her system. So much for being grown up about everything. When she made that deal with herself it was before Angel came up with the lamebrain idea to team her up with Spike.
Spike! Like she was going to spend a minute in the company of that peroxided pest if she could avoid it? Not.
There was no shirking of duty here. Not for her. No siree! This was just an early start on evening patrol. Spike could wait back at the mansion. The less he roamed around her town the better.
Was she so awful that Angel would do this to her? Team her up with Spike. God! It was not like she wanted to send him to hell. Much. Or that she did not have her own reasons for teaming him up with Cordelia Chase.
It was not like he didn’t get anything out of it.
If Cordelia had thought of this…no surprise there, but no. Angel managed to dream up this torture session plan. Yep! Cruelty. Revenge. That had to be it. Not that he admitted it. No, he claimed it was just strategy.
Huh.
Right. His strategy was stinky with payback as far as she was concerned.
Wasn’t it torture enough that she knew it was her own stupid fault that he hooked up with Cordelia, or having to watch the two of them ready to go out on the town? Now she was supposed to babysit Spike.
No way.
They were all talking about the plans for tonight. Getting things straight. “We have to cover as much ground as possible,” Buffy recalled Giles’ words to the group while Wesley unfolded a map of Sunnydale. It sounded like good advice right now as she put some distance between her and Crawford Street.
Another potential sacrifice was up for grabs tonight and it was their job to do the grabbing before Nicolau’s crew got to him.
Buffy could deal with that. Whatever it took. It was the job.
But did the job really have to come served up with a side of Spike? Worse, Giles had done nothing to try to talk Angel out of it.
“Brilliant,” he’d said making her wonder if the Oxford Dictionary came with another definition that made more sense: Brilliant. adjective. Exceptionally lame brained or insanely stupid. Prone to making evil decisions about ex-girlfriends and/or protégés.
“Looks like it’s you ‘n me, Slayer.
Buffy didn’t know what made her feel worse: the anger at Angel, Giles’ betrayal, or the little rush she felt when Spike spent the rest of the planning session staring at her in that gleeful, almost sinister way. She knew then that he was going to make her night hell and love doing it.
Not that she would let him. These prophecy things never happened until midnight. Once she had her assignment, there was no need to stick around to let Spike get a head start on the personal torture session that Angel and Giles had all but approved.
And that wasn’t her only reason for wanting to get away. The next time she turned a corner and found Cordelia and Angel….
Ugh!
Buffy didn’t know what she’d do. So she ran. Outracing the sun as it streaked across the horizon holding a grip on the last traces of day.
Faster.
The rushing wind whipped at her hair, engulfed her footsteps, stung at her skin. Her heart raced, too, but only with the thrill of her defiance. A burst of speed carried her past houses, across streets, and into the empty playground at Glebe Park.
Slowing to a stroll just as the sun disappeared, Buffy stopped in front of the park’s swing set. The seats were still swaying as if only recently abandoned. Smart kids. No playing outside after dark. This was Sunnydale, after all. Home to the Hellmouth.
She sat down on the swing. Just sitting. Remembering the carefree days of her past. When she was a kid, her dad would sometimes take her to the playground. Push her on the swing.
“Higher! I want to go higher!” she remembered calling out. When the swing was at its zenith, she used to jump out. For a moment, it felt like she was flying.
The memory of it tugged hard at her heart. Buffy nudged the sandy ground cover with the toe of her boot. The swing swayed an inch or two before settling back. One hand gripped the linked chains followed by the other. She pushed again, harder this time, setting the swing in motion.
Back and forth, almost effortlessly carried higher, but then, letting gravity take its hold again slowing her down. There was something missing. It was not fun anymore, not like when she was little.
“Want a push, luv?”
Spike.
He had found her.
Hurdling out of the swing, Buffy landed steadily on her feet and whirled around to face him. “What are you doing here?”
Spike grabbed the chains of the swing pulling himself up and over the seat to sit in it, but leaned forward to brace his elbows on his spread knees. He was smirking at her. Not saying a word.
Buffy glared back, but could not stand the silence without wanting to punch his smug face in. Demanding an answer, “Why are you following me? It’s hours yet before we have to be at the Bus Depot.”
That was their assignment. Stake out the Bus Depot. Buffy could already tell that this was going to be a yawner—except for the Spike factor and having to keep him under control.
“You ran. Thrill o’ the chase an’ all.”
“Go away, Spike. I don’t want you here.”
He got up and loped over to stand in front of her. Up so close the scent of cologne and cigarettes tugged at her senses. It was not as disgusting as she hoped. For an instant, she figured it would be easy to recognize him in the dark.
Alone with Spike in the dark? Buffy blinked away the thought as his voice dipped low to ask, “Where is it you do want me?”
Ugh.
“Stop pestering me.” Buffy felt her fingers twitch at the impulse to reach for her stake. “If you really want me to show you, I will, promise or no promise.”
His tongue wagged out a bit as he laughed. “Not today, Slayer. We got a job to do.”
“Not until midnight. I don’t need you around until then.”
Lifting a hand to his chest, Spike let out a dramatic sigh. “I’m hurt.”
Buffy was not falling for that one. She rolled her eyes, glanced over her shoulder and wondered how far she would get if she took off in the direction of Old Sunnydale Cemetery. Spike was fast, but Buffy knew the territory and it was easy to get lost in that place.
“Thinking of running again?” he chuckled. “Go ahead. We can play Kiss-Chase as long as you like.”
“Gross! As if I would give you that kind of satisfaction.”
“Mind telling me what kind you would be giving me, then?”
Ignoring the urge to shove him away, Buffy glowered at him instead, hoping that she looked sufficiently stern. “You’re on my team. That means I’m the boss of us, get it? You meet me at the bus depot at a quarter to eleven. I’m going to patrol.”
She got to the edge of the playground before Spike fell into step beside her. “Looking for a fight, are you? Sounds like fun. S’pose I should tag along.”
Frustrated at the way he could wind her up so easily, Buffy asked, “What part of ‘I’m the boss of us’ don’t you get?” and then stalked off knowing he would be following.