Season of Solace. 163

163:     The Crawford Street Mansion. . .Twenty Minutes Ago

The noise at this time of night— early morning, rather— was too much for Wesley’s last nerve. “Xander, please do stop banging those pans about. We do not need a full three course meal.”

“Speak for yourself. I’m starving.” As far as he was concerned, this was the perfect time for some grilled cheesey goodness, all warm and melty.

After being chased down by a biker gang, robbed, forced to walk across town, and then deal with that fire, he needed some comfort food. Giles suggested he make one for Karla Brewer, which reminded Xander that one of his classmates was still chained up in the basement. She had looked pretty bad. Scary crazy. Maybe she had just gone batty after discovering her hometown was full of demons and vampires who wanted to sacrifice her to their god. That would be enough for a lot of folks.

He shifted his eyes toward Cordelia whose once beautiful sparkly red dress hung limply on her smoke stained frame. Between the rain and the fire she looked like a smudged rag doll. Angel was practically holding her up as she gulped down a glass of ice water. Taking the glass out of her hand when she was done, Angel handed it to Xander, who started to remind the vampire that he was in charge of cooking, not cleaning.

Somehow, he held his tongue as he set the glass down on the nearest countertop. He watched the tender way Angel touched her shoulders, his thumbs moving in a kind of caress, soothingly providing comfort.

“Do you want me to carry you upstairs?” Angel asked her softly as if they were the only two people in the room.

Xander made a face of disgust not caring if the others noticed. Ugh. No wonder Cor was in love with the bastard. He was so suave with the Rhett Butler moves. Let me sweep you into my arms. Carry you up the big staircase. Kiss you—a lot. Xander remembered Cordelia’s kisses, and often dreamed about them. Watching her with Angel left him feeling queasy. Maybe just the one sandwich, he decided.

Cordelia shifted around to face Angel, a sleepy smile tilting the corners of her mouth. “I’m not that helpless,” she said, tilting her face up for a kiss he readily supplied. “All I want is a long, hot shower and then you can tuck me into bed.”

Sourly, Xander wanted to know when Cindy Crawford or Claudia Schiffer was going to come along to give him shoulder massages, goodnight kisses, and tuck him in for the night. Breaking up their kissy-faced routine, he asked, “Sure you don’t want a snack?”

It took a few seconds for Cordelia to emerge from the dreamy haze she had fallen into. “No, thanks. G’night, Xander. See you guys in the morning,” she told the others. “Well, later.”

Angel did not bother to say anything to him. He was completely focused on Cordelia, not that anyone could blame him for that one. He pressed a lingering kiss on her forehead, telling her, “Go on upstairs. With Buffy and Faith still out I should make a final round outside, check the perimeter.”

“Oh, okay,” Cordelia sighed as if it was torture to be separated from DeadBoy for more than a few minutes.

The Buffster had gone straight from the smokey disaster zone at Mercy Hospital to her house after reminding them she had Saturday morning breakfast plans with her mom. Mrs Summers was cool about her staying at the mansion for the duration as long as she got to see her on a regular basis. Now that she knew about her Slayer responsibilities it was a lot easier to get stuff done.

Xander was pretty certain his parents had not even missed him yet. Willow was not so lucky. Mr and Mrs Rosenberg were used to their daughter’s strange hours, but still managed to keep a pretty strict eye on whether or not she had made it home to bed. There were only so many nights she could claim to be sleeping at Buffy’s house, and while sleeping at his house had never caused any fuss before, it was a little different now that they were in high school.

Plus, Wills had a boyfriend with a van— at least until it was stolen tonight— and that had to be worrisome for a girl’s parents, he assumed. Gross. Now his head was full of creepy images of Willow and Oz. That was so bizarre and not what he wanted in his head right now.

Cheesy goodness. That’s what he wanted. Right. He started making the sandwiches for himself and Karla.

Spike had already gone off to search for Drusilla, who was surprisingly not waiting at the front door when they returned. Xander had noticed that she always knew where to find Angel and Spike as if she had her own inner compass trained on them. Another vampire thing, he guessed, adding one more weird thing to his list of weird vampire things to know. For some strangely bizarre reason, he had felt a twinge of disappointment when Dru was not there to greet them.

Part of him recognized that as being oh, so wrong, and knew it had to be left over emotions from Drusilla’s enthrallment. It was a terrible thing that someone could do that, make you want to do anything for them. Cool for the enthraller, maybe, he admitted that it would be an awesome superpower, but not so cool when you were the poor, defenseless thrall. Still, he was not angry about it. Probably should be. Instead, he felt soft and gooey inside whenever Dru glanced at him with those haunting blue eyes that turned dark and mysterious as if they held back all the secrets of the world.

A charred scent suddenly overpowered the soot clinging to his clothes. Xander was startled to see black smoke rising from the frying pan. With a shout, Giles grabbed the spatula from his hand to flip the sandwich over. “Pay attention, Xander. Poor Karla has already been through enough. May we at least provide her with food that does not come with scorch marks?”

Oh, crap! He totally had not been paying attention. “I’ll eat that one,” he grimaced at the crusty black edges.

“Now that Angel and Cordelia have stepped out,” Wesley said cryptically, managing to distract Xander again as the two watchers continued their conversation, “I have been thinking about Karla’s situation. “Could this be more than just a psychotic break? Did the demons perform some sort of pre-ritual…ritual?”

Giles had his glasses off and eyes squeezed shut as he worked the bridge of his nose in a little circular massage, something he tended to do when he was tired or harassed by teenagers, especially certain teenagers. “We need time to do a more thorough exam. If Karla has been exposed to magick, we should be able to detect it.”

“Willow is staying at her house tonight,” Xander chimed in as he assembled the next sandwich. “Said something about having to renew the spell that keeps her parents convinced she’s in bed by nine o’clock every night.” Kids everywhere would love it if she patented that one!

Giles opened his eyes to stare disapprovingly at the snigger Xander could not suppress, but obviously could not justify saying anything when the deception allowed Willow to assist them with maintaining the defensive spells around the mansion.

“Just saying Will won’t be around for any witchy stuff until later.”

Wesley snippily reminded him, “I am quite adept at performing a basic spell if I have the right book and supplies.”

Don’t kill the messenger. “Right. I forgot.” Fat chance of that. The new guy kept giving them reminders about his training at the Watcher’s Academy.

“It’s all in the translation,” Wesley assured him.

“Uh huh. Don’t talk to me. I’m trying not to burn this one,” he used the sandwich as an excuse to end things there before Wesley could go into details.

Giles took off his tweed jacket and draped it on the counter, rolling up his shirtsleeves and loosening his tie, as if he was preparing for a fight. “Did Faith say anything to you about her plans for the rest of the night?” he asked Wesley.

Xander had seen her take off in the direction of State Street as soon as Giles gave them the okay to head home. Back to the mansion, anyway. Creepy home away from home at the moment. He flipped the sandwich over experiencing a little thrill at the grilled golden goodness. Just a couple more minutes to perfection.

“Nothing to do with Mayor Wilkins,” answered Wesley reassuringly. Adding a little more ominously, “You have probably witnessed the effect of adrenalin when your Slayer becomes involved in a fight or life-threatening situation. It seems that Faith is feeling a bit. . . a bit. . .”

He seemed at a loss for words, so Xander helped him out, “Amped up? Buffy gets that way, too. Kind of like she’s ready to go another round.”

Wesley’s cheeks had turned red and blotchy. “Yes, yes, let’s put it that way. In any case, Faith plans to make one last patrol of the town as we have been focused on prophecy matters tonight. I cautioned her against doing anything foolish.”

Hah! Good luck with that. Xander was just a little bit afraid of Faith sometimes. She was a lot like Cordelia with the directness, only with the added Slayer strength and a chip on her shoulder. Hot, in a scary way.

That did not mean he could not think about her scary hotness. No one was keeping tabs on his brain, except Drusilla, maybe. Strangely, Xander had no problem with that either.

An exasperated shout jerked him out of his little fantasy, “Xander, sandwich!”

Scene 164

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