(This was written ages and ages ago, waaay back in Season 3 of Buffy. Hence the almost archaic couple usage, but hey, what the heck. I'll send it in anyway.)

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Disclaimer: None of them are mine, but they've set up house in my imagination.

Feedback: Love the stuff. If feedback had the same effect on me that chocolate does, I'd be all fat and blubbery by now.

Author's Note: I'm on a downside right now, hence the angst. I'm all for Xander and Cordy as a couple, but this one is slightly depressing. Or not so slightly. Sorry for those hardcore C/X worshippers . . . Andi . . . I didn't mean it!!!

Bittersweet
by Wravyn

I watch him dance with her, and my heart gives an unexpected twist. He is so handsome. I had noticed it from the very first time I had seen him. Of course, I hadn't known he was a vampire then . . . what kind of self-respecting girl would lust after a demon? Obviously not Buffy. But then who said she was self-respecting anyway? I look at her now, slightly disdainful of everything she is and everything she stands for.

A Slayer with a vampire, how droll.

But then I glance away, because I know that my pettiness stems from my jealousy of her. Look at me, with my crazy relationship. And here I am saying I'm jealous of Buffy? Can you imagine? Me, Cordelia Chase, jealous of that . . . unpopular, tackily dressed . . . girl who has everything.

I swallow a sigh and lean into the arms of my partner. Xander Harris, also known as dweeb extraordinare. He is even further down in the social totem pole than Buffy is, and yet . . . I can't stop myself from wanting to be with him. Even that brief but crazy breakup we had after Valentine's Day didn't stop me from feeling this way about him. I'm not sure . . . but I think it's love.

I think I love him.

It's unbelievable. Who would have thought that the most sought-after girl in school would fall for a loser like Xander? But I have, and I can't help it. I know what it's done to my reputation. My old friends . . . well, it looks like they were never really my friends after all. I know what they think of me. It's not like I flaunt my relationship with Xander, but I don't hide it either. And it's murder on my status.

I am not a saint. I don't claim to be one. I know that I'm a spoiled, rich brat. It's who I am. I like being the center of attention. I like having guys stare at my gorgeous self when I walk down the halls. I like having Harmony and Aura and the rest of them follow me around telling me how great I am. I insult the so-called losers because it's expected of me, and to be honest, I say what I feel, for the most part. I know they call me the Rich Bitch, but I don't care. If that's what being popular means, then I'm all up for it.

Cause that's what I was born to be. Popular. I am a Chase, and that's as close to aristocracy as you can get in this dinky little town.

So why am I still with Xander? I've tried breaking up . . . and it didn't last. I couldn't stay away from him. I don't know why of all people, Xander would be the one I fall for, but now popularity has taken a back seat to this relationship I have with him. It's love on my part, but what about him?

I close my eyes as I let the soothing tones of the music wash over me. My arms tighten around Xander as we sway slowly to the song. I savor these moments when I am wrapped in his arms. When I can pretend that nothing is wrong in this world of mine – that the threat of demons is nonexistent, that I am still the most popular girl in Sunnydale High, that Xander loves me. Me. Not Buffy.

I know he does. It's painfully obvious. He watches out for her more than he does for me. He worries about her when she's gone, and he fusses over her when she is around. When we're alone, all is fine. All is great, actually. We kiss, we laugh, and we have a wonderful time. I know he cares for me, but . . . but not in the same way he does for her. I can tell when he's around her that he longs to be the one holding her hand, and not Angel. That the girl he's got his arm around is Buffy, and not me. So when we're alone . . . it is those moments that I treasure the most. When we are alone I don't have to worry about him glaring at Angel over Buffy, or leaving my side to hover protectively about her.

I know she knows. She doesn't encourage it, but she doesn't stop it, either. And I become so jealous. I try to hide it underneath my usual sarcasm. Xander and I argue all the time about everything. I don't ever show how much it hurts me to put him down, and even more so when he talks to me that way. It's all part of a silent game we play, where we both pretend we don't feel what we feel. Or at least that's how it is for me. I sometimes get the feeling that I'm only a substitute for Buffy, his golden girl. The One Who Can Do No Wrong.

And I become jealous.

Sometimes I hate her. Oh, she's a nice enough person, I guess, and I owe her my life, but I really hate her sometimes. I hate how her life is so perfect. I know she doesn't like being the Slayer, but in my darkest moods, I want to switch places with her. Okay, so she's not popular. And I am, or was. But at least her friends are really her friends, y'know? They stick with her, good or bad. And sure, her father and mother are separated, but is that better than having both parents around . . . or rather, not around? And that's just it. They're never around. They give me money when I need it and all the shoes and clothes I could ever want, but they never worry about me the way Joyce Summers does about Buffy. And that woman loves her daughter. Even the whole slaying thing doesn't sound so bad. Dust a few vamps, become the most feared human in vampdom. Or maybe not. Actually . . . yes. Well, it gets her respect, anyway.

Icky vamps or no icky vamps, Buffy gets all the sunshiny perks that I don't. Giles adores her, Willow worships her, Angel obsesses over her, and Xander loves her.

I look into Xander's face, hoping that he would wrest his eyes away from Angel and Buffy and smile at me the way he smiles at her. I know I sound bitter, and I am. He is not looking at me. His brow is furrowed, and he is watching every move the couple is making. I lower my gaze, disappointed, and instead turn my head to look in the same direction he is. At the blonde Slayer, who is unaware of our stares, so intent is she on her dancing partner. At the tall vampire, who is looking at her with a similar expression of devotion on his face.

He really is handsome. And he's not a bad dresser either, as vampires go. But it's not only his looks that make him so attractive to me. Funny thing for me to be saying. But honestly . . . it fascinates me, his love for Buffy. It's so heartbreakingly romantic. They are so different, yet they go so well together. They are so not meant to be with each other, yet they are. Xander and I . . . it's basically the same sitch, but a major difference. Ours is a one-sided relationship. It's a sink or swim situation, but I'm drowning, and the lifeguard is not looking my way.

FIN

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