Disclaimer: I don't own Buffy, Angel, Giles, Spike, Willow, Xander, Anya,
Tara, Bessie, Cordelia, Wesley, Dawn, Parker, Gunn, or Fred. They're Joss'.
No power on Earth could make me admit to owning Riley or Kate *shudder*.
"About" is mine : "Close To You" belongs to the Carpenters.
Summary: Just some sweet ole fashioned Riley-killing. Good for the body and soul. S/B/A. I'm a sucker for triangles. They're so pretty and... slanty. Takes place a few weeks after the Season 2/5 finales of AtS/BtVS. *weep* Someone (I didn't want to assign such blame to any specific character, so imagine it was the one you like least) suggested that they let Riley know about Buffy's death, so the Scoobies ran up Giles' long distance phone bill trying to explain it to him. No easy task. Anyway, things progress from there. Rated PG-13 for Language and Violence. Aren't you shocked?
Note: This story's divided into several parts, mainly because I don't like the way breaks look. So sue me. Bad choice of words…
Vengeance and Resurrection (1/2)
by the Jolly Pirate
Part 1: Letting Riley Know
"It's Buffy."
"Oh, hi Buffy!" Riley said, grinning at the phone he'd had installed in his Iowa barn, as he stroked the lumpy head of the famous and fantabulous Bessie. The cow jerked irritatedly away from his touch, snorting with disgust.
Several states away, in the sarcastically named town of Sunnydale, California, a red-haired witch banged her head against an already noticeable dent in Rupert Giles' kitchen wall. This had been a long phone call.
"No. Riley, I told you before. This. Is. Willow. Will-Ow." She drew the syllables out as long as possible, wondering if it wouldn't have been wiser to phone Angel and give *Riley* the news in person.
"But you just said it was Buffy," Farm-Boy was speaking slowly, too, though for entirely different reasons. He bit a dirt-stained fingernail in confusion.
"It's *about* Buffy."
"This is Riley, not Buffy. You must have dialed the wrong number. Sorry, About."
Willow crinkled her brows, committing what amounted to the Cardinal sin when dealing with Riley Finn: trying to find sense in anything that comes out of his mouth. Correctly surmising from the vacant look on Willow's face that she had been dragged into the lightless abyss that was Finn-World, Giles picked up the phone.
"Riley, this is Rupert Giles," he said Brittishly, giving Willow a Let's-All-Be-Patient look.
"Wow! Are you related to Giles from Sunnydale?"
"Wh- th- bu- What do you think, man?"
Riley gave a wholesome chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck ruefully.
"I was just kidding—" he began.
Giles looked immensely relieved.
"—I know that you're not related just because his first name is the same as your last."
Closing his eyes, Giles passed the phone to Xander, grabbed a dark bottle from the cabinet under the sink, and joined Willow on his couch. She was staring at the wall in front of her, mouthing 'About?' silently while Tara patted her hand. Dawn, who had already had her turn, huddled mutely on the carpet at their feet.
"Fish-Boy, it's Xander...again," said Xander, leaning one palm against Willow's dent in the wall.
"Xander, hi! Who was that About girl?" Riley wiggled his eyebrows and winked suggestively at Bessie, who shuddered a scared cow shudder.
Wisely choosing to ignore this, Xander plowed forward.
"I've got some bad news for you, Riley," he continued.
"Oh, Gosh! I hope you don't mean..."
Xander drew in a shaky breath. The reality of Buffy's death had only recently sunk in for him. He suddenly didn't want to be the one who had to tell a man who'd loved her, however stupid, that she was... gone. Glancing at Willow, he imagined what it must've been like to tell Angel, and blanched.
"Yeah," he croaked, finally. "I'm sorry man."
There was a short silence.
"Well, that's the breaks," said Riley cheerfully.
Xander stared at the phone in horror. Which quickly turned to anger.
"That's the... THAT'S THE FUCKING BREAKS?! That's all you have to say? You fish-headed, cow-tipping, sister-screwing son of a bitch!"
He was choking the phone. Literally throttling the thing, imagining Riley's face turning the same angry purple as his own (before slowly fading to bluer and bluer hues), sputtering enraged obscenities all the while. Anya could not pry his hands away from the thing. She was startled. And turned on.
Riley was innocently injured. What had he said? Sure, it was sad if they'd closed the Bronze, but Heck, he wasn't gonna break his heart about it. Shrugging, he put the receiver back on its hook.
"It's nice to hear from old friends, isn't it, Babe--" He stopped, blushing. "I mean Bessie."
From far across the golden-green fields of corn, a faint, furious voice could be heard echoing on the western wind, screaming: HE WILL PAY!!!!
Part 2: Telling Spike
"He said what?"
"You heard me, Fang-Boy." Xander's eyes glowed with hysterical malice, as he stood over the platinum blonde vampire who sat slowly up from his unpleasantly supine position in the middle of the stone, empty-beer- bottle-bottle-carpeted floor of the crypt.
"I thought I was Dead-Boy..." Spike said, drunkenly.
"Angel's Dead-Boy."
A slow smile crept across the pale, bloodless face.
"At least I've got a cooler nickname."
"Now you're Prancy Boy. Thanks for the feedback." Xander smirked at his own joke, the angry insane glint still in his eyes. "You're evil. You're a vampire. You *claim* to have loved Buffy. What are you going to do to help me avenge her?"
"The bland bloke didn't ki... " Spike winced, unable to say the words. "He didn't do it."
"Didn't he?"
The blond head snapped up, suddenly very, very alert.
"What're you getting at?" he growled.
"He left her. He broke her heart. Again. Right when she didn't need it. Without an excuse. Angel bailing, I can understand that. Personally, I always thought he did her more harm than good. Parker.... Hmmm. We'll see about Parker later. There hasn't been anyone else who really hurt her. Do you think she'd throw herself off a building if she had a boyfriend waiting at home?" The fact that she probably would have if that boyfriend was Riley did not prevent the desired effect. Spike stumbled to his feet, his features blurred in the hideously primal transition known as "vamping-out."
"Which way's Idaho?"
"Iowa."
"Same bag."
Part 3: Aw, Shit. Angel Found Out.
The highway looked empty at first glance. The lone figure was dressed in a darkness that matched the night: Sable duster and black leather pants, even his hair waved duskily, and his eyes... his eyes were a void.
If he hadn't held a large, white oak-tag sign reading: Sri Lanka or Bust, there was no way he'd have stood a chance at hitching a ride.
Every once in a while a roadster full of drunken rich kids would blur by, shouting and catcalling and just asking for a DWI. The hitch-hiker paid them no attention. He stared blankly at the litter-strewn asphalt, searching for or escaping from something only he could see.
By two-thirty the frat-boys had passed out in a ditch three miles away, and the dark man still did not move. Not even when a red convertible pulled up beside him, rolling down its driver-side window.
"Join me for dinner, babe?" snarled a fugly she-vampire, bearing her fangs.
He looked up.
"A- Angelus!" she paled. As far as a vampire is able, that is. "I'm sorry, I—I didn't know it was you! Really! I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'm—"
"Will you shut up, you stupid bitch?" A gravelly smoker's voice choked out of the passenger's seat. "Just hit the gas."
The hitch-hiker put his hand on the windshield just as she started to comply. "You're not going anywhere," he said flatly. "And the name's Angel."
"Shoulda just kept on drivin," mumbled the male vampire.
"Yeah, you probably should have," Angel agreed, with a smile that was no smile at all.
"Angelu— I mean, Angel! We're sorry! We didn't mean to bother you! You're probably on your way to Iowa— We can give you a ride! We'll do that for you! All vampires are brothers, right?! Please don't stake us!" the girl wept shamelessly.
Angel shook his head, reached inside his duster's pocket, then paused.
"Why would I be going to Iowa?"
Ten minutes later, the convertible was breaking long- standing California speeding records on its way to L.A. and Angel's eyes were glowing with new fire. He pulled out his Sharpie, crossed out 'Sri Lanka' and wrote 'IOWA' on his poster in big black letters.
Part 4: An Interlude in Finn-World
1 "Why do birds suddenly appear…"
Candles were scattered around the barn in a constellation of flickering lights.
2 "Every time you are near?"
Riley, dressed in powder blue velvet overalls, moved in time to the music, not quite dancing as he opened all of the wooden stall doors, letting their occupants out for a midnight graze. All except one.
3 "Just like me…"
Bessie lifted her liquid brown eyes to the still-locked door to her stall as Riley walked away. The sound of wet trickled into her floppy ears and she panted nervously. She knew the sound.
4 "They long to be…"
Riley finished pouring fake Dom Perignon in the cow trough and looked around. Everything was perfect. He opened her stall.
"Close to you."
Bessie mooed in terror.
AN: I know. That was sick. Tell me you can ever think of that song the same way again.
Part 5: What's Kate Got to Do With It?
"You're fired."
"Mwah'huh?" Detective Kate Locksley looked up from her burrito to face a bored sergeant. A chunk of sour-cream covered lettuce drooped down onto her shirt.
"You haven't solved a case in eight months. You make false arrests; you rant about monsters and bitch about your life like no one else's father has ever died. Plus, you eat like a pig, and your irises are practically invisible, so the guys don't like having to look at you. You can pick up your check on the way out, mmmkay?" Without waiting for a reply, he headed over for the donut table.
Kate blinked and looked around. Nobody seemed to have heard; there was a colony of heads bent over desks around her. Slowly, she crooked a finger and wiped a glob of cheese from her chin. Clearing her throat and glancing around one more time, she then grabbed her keys and her badge and stood up. She had just faltered up to the door when the sergeant called out to her. Expecting a "Gotcha" or an apology, she spun around in a flash.
"I'mmuna need that badge back," he said flatly through a mouthful of donut, oblivious to her crestfallen expression. Kate held the small leather case out with a shaking hand. He grabbed it and held out his own. She shook it tentatively.
"Ugh, no!" He shuddered, the mask of disgust on his face the first emotion that he had shown. "I need the gun back, too." He took the weapon in two fingers, wiping his other palm on his uniform pants.
Bleached head bowed, hands twisting at her side, ex-detective Locksley stepped out into the cool L.A. night.
"Whadda I do now?" she whined at nobody in particular.
Part 6: Ohhhhh. Yes, That Makes Sense.
Wesley coughed. Gunn raised an eyebrow. Fred looked puzzled.
Kate shifted her weight impatiently. "Where's Angel?" she demanded for the third time.
"Who are you again?" Gunn asked, scratching his forehead.
The slamming of the Hyperion's front door covered her answer. A disgruntled Cordelia Chase marched into the lobby.
Tha-WAM! Her tasteful purse smacked onto the counter. Ca-RACK! Her designer shoe kicked open the door to Wesley's office.
"No luck?" Gunn guessed, as the pissed-off brunette pounded over to her own desk, carrying the heavy stack of tomes she had grabbed.
"Ya think?" She smiled sarcastically at him before slamming open the first ancient book, sending up a storm of white dust.
"What I don't understand is why you're looking in all those old magic Watcher books. They're not gonna tell us where Angel is," he continued as Cordelia flipped through the thick yellow pages of An Extended History of Agricultural Demon Cults in the Fourth Century.
"Well, we've tried everything else," Cordelia muttered without looking up from the graphic illustration of a Smehgi demon ingesting the group of small blonde children who had summoned it.
"You mean you don't even know where he IS?!" Kate whined. Everyone ignored her. Everyone except Cordelia.
"You."
The other members of Angel Investigators backed up. Kate curled her lip.
"Yes me. I want to see Angel."
"Don't we all?" Cordelia's manicured fingers gripped the edge of her desk as she leaned forward to glare at the blonde. The two women locked eyes for about fifteen seconds before Kate looked away.
"Angel is on hiatus," Wesley put in helpfully. "Due to a personal tragedy."
"'Personal tragedy?'" Kate scowled. "What does that mean? He's not even a person."
Gunn turned and ran from the room. Wesley jumped behind the weapons cabinet and Cordelia seemed turned to stone. Oblivious, Kate stood, arms akimbo, waiting for an answer.
"It means that he isn't here because his girlfriend killed herself." Fred explained innocently. "We don't know where he is. But he'll come back; I'm sure. He said he would. It was the only thing he said."
Cordelia released her grip on the desk so she could massage her temples.
"What do you want, Kate?" she asked wearily.
"Well, actually, I wanted a job."
For once in her life, Cordelia was speechless. The weapons cabinet, though, shook with fear.
"What?" she finally managed to sputter.
"Well, your freak of a boss just got me fired."
Cordelia blinked.
"I say again, what?"
"Your FREAK of a—"
"I heard you," the brunette ground out through gritted teeth and even Fred had the sense to back towards the door this time. Kate, however, merely placed her hands on her hips and tapped her foot irately.
"Look, my life was FINE until Angel came to town. Then he showed up and suddenly I'm a destitute, unemployed orphan. It's all his fault and he's going to fix it. As soon as I find him."
"Okaaay." Cordelia said calmly, smiling and standing up straight. "You have exactly fifteen seconds to—"
She was interrupted by the ringing of the telephone.
"Angel Investigators, we help the hopeless."
"Cordelia?" Giles' usually calm voice was tight with urgency.
Cordelia let out an impatient breath. "Look, Angel's not here and even if he WAS it probably wouldn't do him any good to talk to you. It's nice of you to want to comfort him— two days late" she muttered. "But all you'd end up doing is stir up bad memories, so—"
"Cordelia," Giles said again, with something approaching his normal sternness. "This is not a courtesy call."
"Then why— Oh, that's really nice. What is it this time? Witches, demons, got a god to pick HIM off, too? Can't he have a minute to himself after losing the love of his LIFE? And this is Angel we're talking about, so that's no small—"
"Cordelia!" "Who're you TALK-ing tooo?" Giles and Kate interrupted simultaneously.
"I wasn't for calling Angel at all," Giles continued as Cordelia struggled to decide who to snap at first.
"Who is that?" Kate demanded again.
"Someone a hell of a lot more important than you," Cordelia said shortly. "If you don't want to talk to Angel, why are you calling, Giles?"
"I wanted to know if Xander had contacted you. Or Spike?"
Cordelia wrinkled her nose at the sound of the names. "God no. Xander and I are SO over, I haven't talked to him since— Wait, SPIKE?"
"Yes, they seem to have disappeared."
"Let me get this straight. Xander has run off with Spike."
"Well, not RUN OFF with, exactly…"
Cordelia burst out laughing. "Ooh. He's never going to hear the end of this," she said to herself, suddenly looking forward to the next time she met her ex. "With SPIKE. Spike!"
"I have reason to believe they've gone off seeking, well, seeking vengeance."
"Seeking vengeance?" Cordelia snorted, picturing Xander in a ninja suit, speaking in subtitles. "XANDER?"
"Yes, I know. That's why I was rather hoping you had heard from them."
"Nope. Sorry. If they do call," her eyes shimmered. "I'll let you know."
"Yes, I suppose it was a long shot. Sorry to disturb you. I do hope Angel is all right. Where did you say he was again?"
"He didn't say." She paused. "What are Xander and Spike seeking vengeance for, anyway?"
"Do you remember Buffy's old boyfriend, Riley?"
"The one who ditched her to fight demons in the rain forest? Yeah. Angel hates his guts."
"He lives in Iowa now, actually. But yes. Anyway, we telephoned him about Buffy's death as soon as Willow returned from L.A. "
"Oh. How did he take it?"
"Very well. In fact, Xander thinks he took it too well. I can't really disagree. I believe his words were 'That's the breaks.'" Giles' voice grew very cool.
"He actually SAID that?! About Buffy? NO wonder Xander was mad. Why is Spike going, though?"
Giles cleared his throat. Cordelia could practically SEE him wiping off his glasses.
"Well, you see— that is…" he began, but Cordelia cut him off.
"Oh, yeah. V-chip and everything. Forgot about that. He WOULD want vengeance against the guy responsible for his enforced change of lifestyle, wouldn't he?"
"I suppose that had something to do with it…" Giles stammered nervously.
"Wow. Sucks to be that guy. He's just lucky Angel hasn't—"
There was a short silence.
"No. No way." She insisted, shaking her head. " How could he possibly…? Uh- uh. Definitely not."
Giles said nothing. They both knew how their world worked.
"Can you be here in two hours?" Cordelia sighed.
Giles agreed and hung up.
"Who was THAT?" Kate whined again.
Cordelia pressed her hand to her forehead. "Wesley? Gunn? Fred? You up for a road trip?" she asked, flinging the cover of the nearest magic book closed.
To be completed….
Hey, in case you haven't noticed, this is a comedy, not an actual interpretation of how the characters might act in a given situation. I'm doing it for fun. Hope you have fun reading it. Whether you do or you don't, send feedback to Slightlyundead@hotmail.com. Thanks!
Summary: Just some sweet ole fashioned Riley-killing. Good for the body and soul. S/B/A. I'm a sucker for triangles. They're so pretty and... slanty. Takes place a few weeks after the Season 2/5 finales of AtS/BtVS. *weep* Someone (I didn't want to assign such blame to any specific character, so imagine it was the one you like least) suggested that they let Riley know about Buffy's death, so the Scoobies ran up Giles' long distance phone bill trying to explain it to him. No easy task. Anyway, things progress from there. Rated PG-13 for Language and Violence. Aren't you shocked?
Note: This story's divided into several parts, mainly because I don't like the way breaks look. So sue me. Bad choice of words…
Vengeance and Resurrection (1/2)
by the Jolly Pirate
Part 1: Letting Riley Know
"It's Buffy."
"Oh, hi Buffy!" Riley said, grinning at the phone he'd had installed in his Iowa barn, as he stroked the lumpy head of the famous and fantabulous Bessie. The cow jerked irritatedly away from his touch, snorting with disgust.
Several states away, in the sarcastically named town of Sunnydale, California, a red-haired witch banged her head against an already noticeable dent in Rupert Giles' kitchen wall. This had been a long phone call.
"No. Riley, I told you before. This. Is. Willow. Will-Ow." She drew the syllables out as long as possible, wondering if it wouldn't have been wiser to phone Angel and give *Riley* the news in person.
"But you just said it was Buffy," Farm-Boy was speaking slowly, too, though for entirely different reasons. He bit a dirt-stained fingernail in confusion.
"It's *about* Buffy."
"This is Riley, not Buffy. You must have dialed the wrong number. Sorry, About."
Willow crinkled her brows, committing what amounted to the Cardinal sin when dealing with Riley Finn: trying to find sense in anything that comes out of his mouth. Correctly surmising from the vacant look on Willow's face that she had been dragged into the lightless abyss that was Finn-World, Giles picked up the phone.
"Riley, this is Rupert Giles," he said Brittishly, giving Willow a Let's-All-Be-Patient look.
"Wow! Are you related to Giles from Sunnydale?"
"Wh- th- bu- What do you think, man?"
Riley gave a wholesome chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck ruefully.
"I was just kidding—" he began.
Giles looked immensely relieved.
"—I know that you're not related just because his first name is the same as your last."
Closing his eyes, Giles passed the phone to Xander, grabbed a dark bottle from the cabinet under the sink, and joined Willow on his couch. She was staring at the wall in front of her, mouthing 'About?' silently while Tara patted her hand. Dawn, who had already had her turn, huddled mutely on the carpet at their feet.
"Fish-Boy, it's Xander...again," said Xander, leaning one palm against Willow's dent in the wall.
"Xander, hi! Who was that About girl?" Riley wiggled his eyebrows and winked suggestively at Bessie, who shuddered a scared cow shudder.
Wisely choosing to ignore this, Xander plowed forward.
"I've got some bad news for you, Riley," he continued.
"Oh, Gosh! I hope you don't mean..."
Xander drew in a shaky breath. The reality of Buffy's death had only recently sunk in for him. He suddenly didn't want to be the one who had to tell a man who'd loved her, however stupid, that she was... gone. Glancing at Willow, he imagined what it must've been like to tell Angel, and blanched.
"Yeah," he croaked, finally. "I'm sorry man."
There was a short silence.
"Well, that's the breaks," said Riley cheerfully.
Xander stared at the phone in horror. Which quickly turned to anger.
"That's the... THAT'S THE FUCKING BREAKS?! That's all you have to say? You fish-headed, cow-tipping, sister-screwing son of a bitch!"
He was choking the phone. Literally throttling the thing, imagining Riley's face turning the same angry purple as his own (before slowly fading to bluer and bluer hues), sputtering enraged obscenities all the while. Anya could not pry his hands away from the thing. She was startled. And turned on.
Riley was innocently injured. What had he said? Sure, it was sad if they'd closed the Bronze, but Heck, he wasn't gonna break his heart about it. Shrugging, he put the receiver back on its hook.
"It's nice to hear from old friends, isn't it, Babe--" He stopped, blushing. "I mean Bessie."
From far across the golden-green fields of corn, a faint, furious voice could be heard echoing on the western wind, screaming: HE WILL PAY!!!!
Part 2: Telling Spike
"He said what?"
"You heard me, Fang-Boy." Xander's eyes glowed with hysterical malice, as he stood over the platinum blonde vampire who sat slowly up from his unpleasantly supine position in the middle of the stone, empty-beer- bottle-bottle-carpeted floor of the crypt.
"I thought I was Dead-Boy..." Spike said, drunkenly.
"Angel's Dead-Boy."
A slow smile crept across the pale, bloodless face.
"At least I've got a cooler nickname."
"Now you're Prancy Boy. Thanks for the feedback." Xander smirked at his own joke, the angry insane glint still in his eyes. "You're evil. You're a vampire. You *claim* to have loved Buffy. What are you going to do to help me avenge her?"
"The bland bloke didn't ki... " Spike winced, unable to say the words. "He didn't do it."
"Didn't he?"
The blond head snapped up, suddenly very, very alert.
"What're you getting at?" he growled.
"He left her. He broke her heart. Again. Right when she didn't need it. Without an excuse. Angel bailing, I can understand that. Personally, I always thought he did her more harm than good. Parker.... Hmmm. We'll see about Parker later. There hasn't been anyone else who really hurt her. Do you think she'd throw herself off a building if she had a boyfriend waiting at home?" The fact that she probably would have if that boyfriend was Riley did not prevent the desired effect. Spike stumbled to his feet, his features blurred in the hideously primal transition known as "vamping-out."
"Which way's Idaho?"
"Iowa."
"Same bag."
Part 3: Aw, Shit. Angel Found Out.
The highway looked empty at first glance. The lone figure was dressed in a darkness that matched the night: Sable duster and black leather pants, even his hair waved duskily, and his eyes... his eyes were a void.
If he hadn't held a large, white oak-tag sign reading: Sri Lanka or Bust, there was no way he'd have stood a chance at hitching a ride.
Every once in a while a roadster full of drunken rich kids would blur by, shouting and catcalling and just asking for a DWI. The hitch-hiker paid them no attention. He stared blankly at the litter-strewn asphalt, searching for or escaping from something only he could see.
By two-thirty the frat-boys had passed out in a ditch three miles away, and the dark man still did not move. Not even when a red convertible pulled up beside him, rolling down its driver-side window.
"Join me for dinner, babe?" snarled a fugly she-vampire, bearing her fangs.
He looked up.
"A- Angelus!" she paled. As far as a vampire is able, that is. "I'm sorry, I—I didn't know it was you! Really! I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'm—"
"Will you shut up, you stupid bitch?" A gravelly smoker's voice choked out of the passenger's seat. "Just hit the gas."
The hitch-hiker put his hand on the windshield just as she started to comply. "You're not going anywhere," he said flatly. "And the name's Angel."
"Shoulda just kept on drivin," mumbled the male vampire.
"Yeah, you probably should have," Angel agreed, with a smile that was no smile at all.
"Angelu— I mean, Angel! We're sorry! We didn't mean to bother you! You're probably on your way to Iowa— We can give you a ride! We'll do that for you! All vampires are brothers, right?! Please don't stake us!" the girl wept shamelessly.
Angel shook his head, reached inside his duster's pocket, then paused.
"Why would I be going to Iowa?"
Ten minutes later, the convertible was breaking long- standing California speeding records on its way to L.A. and Angel's eyes were glowing with new fire. He pulled out his Sharpie, crossed out 'Sri Lanka' and wrote 'IOWA' on his poster in big black letters.
Part 4: An Interlude in Finn-World
1 "Why do birds suddenly appear…"
Candles were scattered around the barn in a constellation of flickering lights.
2 "Every time you are near?"
Riley, dressed in powder blue velvet overalls, moved in time to the music, not quite dancing as he opened all of the wooden stall doors, letting their occupants out for a midnight graze. All except one.
3 "Just like me…"
Bessie lifted her liquid brown eyes to the still-locked door to her stall as Riley walked away. The sound of wet trickled into her floppy ears and she panted nervously. She knew the sound.
4 "They long to be…"
Riley finished pouring fake Dom Perignon in the cow trough and looked around. Everything was perfect. He opened her stall.
"Close to you."
Bessie mooed in terror.
AN: I know. That was sick. Tell me you can ever think of that song the same way again.
Part 5: What's Kate Got to Do With It?
"You're fired."
"Mwah'huh?" Detective Kate Locksley looked up from her burrito to face a bored sergeant. A chunk of sour-cream covered lettuce drooped down onto her shirt.
"You haven't solved a case in eight months. You make false arrests; you rant about monsters and bitch about your life like no one else's father has ever died. Plus, you eat like a pig, and your irises are practically invisible, so the guys don't like having to look at you. You can pick up your check on the way out, mmmkay?" Without waiting for a reply, he headed over for the donut table.
Kate blinked and looked around. Nobody seemed to have heard; there was a colony of heads bent over desks around her. Slowly, she crooked a finger and wiped a glob of cheese from her chin. Clearing her throat and glancing around one more time, she then grabbed her keys and her badge and stood up. She had just faltered up to the door when the sergeant called out to her. Expecting a "Gotcha" or an apology, she spun around in a flash.
"I'mmuna need that badge back," he said flatly through a mouthful of donut, oblivious to her crestfallen expression. Kate held the small leather case out with a shaking hand. He grabbed it and held out his own. She shook it tentatively.
"Ugh, no!" He shuddered, the mask of disgust on his face the first emotion that he had shown. "I need the gun back, too." He took the weapon in two fingers, wiping his other palm on his uniform pants.
Bleached head bowed, hands twisting at her side, ex-detective Locksley stepped out into the cool L.A. night.
"Whadda I do now?" she whined at nobody in particular.
Part 6: Ohhhhh. Yes, That Makes Sense.
Wesley coughed. Gunn raised an eyebrow. Fred looked puzzled.
Kate shifted her weight impatiently. "Where's Angel?" she demanded for the third time.
"Who are you again?" Gunn asked, scratching his forehead.
The slamming of the Hyperion's front door covered her answer. A disgruntled Cordelia Chase marched into the lobby.
Tha-WAM! Her tasteful purse smacked onto the counter. Ca-RACK! Her designer shoe kicked open the door to Wesley's office.
"No luck?" Gunn guessed, as the pissed-off brunette pounded over to her own desk, carrying the heavy stack of tomes she had grabbed.
"Ya think?" She smiled sarcastically at him before slamming open the first ancient book, sending up a storm of white dust.
"What I don't understand is why you're looking in all those old magic Watcher books. They're not gonna tell us where Angel is," he continued as Cordelia flipped through the thick yellow pages of An Extended History of Agricultural Demon Cults in the Fourth Century.
"Well, we've tried everything else," Cordelia muttered without looking up from the graphic illustration of a Smehgi demon ingesting the group of small blonde children who had summoned it.
"You mean you don't even know where he IS?!" Kate whined. Everyone ignored her. Everyone except Cordelia.
"You."
The other members of Angel Investigators backed up. Kate curled her lip.
"Yes me. I want to see Angel."
"Don't we all?" Cordelia's manicured fingers gripped the edge of her desk as she leaned forward to glare at the blonde. The two women locked eyes for about fifteen seconds before Kate looked away.
"Angel is on hiatus," Wesley put in helpfully. "Due to a personal tragedy."
"'Personal tragedy?'" Kate scowled. "What does that mean? He's not even a person."
Gunn turned and ran from the room. Wesley jumped behind the weapons cabinet and Cordelia seemed turned to stone. Oblivious, Kate stood, arms akimbo, waiting for an answer.
"It means that he isn't here because his girlfriend killed herself." Fred explained innocently. "We don't know where he is. But he'll come back; I'm sure. He said he would. It was the only thing he said."
Cordelia released her grip on the desk so she could massage her temples.
"What do you want, Kate?" she asked wearily.
"Well, actually, I wanted a job."
For once in her life, Cordelia was speechless. The weapons cabinet, though, shook with fear.
"What?" she finally managed to sputter.
"Well, your freak of a boss just got me fired."
Cordelia blinked.
"I say again, what?"
"Your FREAK of a—"
"I heard you," the brunette ground out through gritted teeth and even Fred had the sense to back towards the door this time. Kate, however, merely placed her hands on her hips and tapped her foot irately.
"Look, my life was FINE until Angel came to town. Then he showed up and suddenly I'm a destitute, unemployed orphan. It's all his fault and he's going to fix it. As soon as I find him."
"Okaaay." Cordelia said calmly, smiling and standing up straight. "You have exactly fifteen seconds to—"
She was interrupted by the ringing of the telephone.
"Angel Investigators, we help the hopeless."
"Cordelia?" Giles' usually calm voice was tight with urgency.
Cordelia let out an impatient breath. "Look, Angel's not here and even if he WAS it probably wouldn't do him any good to talk to you. It's nice of you to want to comfort him— two days late" she muttered. "But all you'd end up doing is stir up bad memories, so—"
"Cordelia," Giles said again, with something approaching his normal sternness. "This is not a courtesy call."
"Then why— Oh, that's really nice. What is it this time? Witches, demons, got a god to pick HIM off, too? Can't he have a minute to himself after losing the love of his LIFE? And this is Angel we're talking about, so that's no small—"
"Cordelia!" "Who're you TALK-ing tooo?" Giles and Kate interrupted simultaneously.
"I wasn't for calling Angel at all," Giles continued as Cordelia struggled to decide who to snap at first.
"Who is that?" Kate demanded again.
"Someone a hell of a lot more important than you," Cordelia said shortly. "If you don't want to talk to Angel, why are you calling, Giles?"
"I wanted to know if Xander had contacted you. Or Spike?"
Cordelia wrinkled her nose at the sound of the names. "God no. Xander and I are SO over, I haven't talked to him since— Wait, SPIKE?"
"Yes, they seem to have disappeared."
"Let me get this straight. Xander has run off with Spike."
"Well, not RUN OFF with, exactly…"
Cordelia burst out laughing. "Ooh. He's never going to hear the end of this," she said to herself, suddenly looking forward to the next time she met her ex. "With SPIKE. Spike!"
"I have reason to believe they've gone off seeking, well, seeking vengeance."
"Seeking vengeance?" Cordelia snorted, picturing Xander in a ninja suit, speaking in subtitles. "XANDER?"
"Yes, I know. That's why I was rather hoping you had heard from them."
"Nope. Sorry. If they do call," her eyes shimmered. "I'll let you know."
"Yes, I suppose it was a long shot. Sorry to disturb you. I do hope Angel is all right. Where did you say he was again?"
"He didn't say." She paused. "What are Xander and Spike seeking vengeance for, anyway?"
"Do you remember Buffy's old boyfriend, Riley?"
"The one who ditched her to fight demons in the rain forest? Yeah. Angel hates his guts."
"He lives in Iowa now, actually. But yes. Anyway, we telephoned him about Buffy's death as soon as Willow returned from L.A. "
"Oh. How did he take it?"
"Very well. In fact, Xander thinks he took it too well. I can't really disagree. I believe his words were 'That's the breaks.'" Giles' voice grew very cool.
"He actually SAID that?! About Buffy? NO wonder Xander was mad. Why is Spike going, though?"
Giles cleared his throat. Cordelia could practically SEE him wiping off his glasses.
"Well, you see— that is…" he began, but Cordelia cut him off.
"Oh, yeah. V-chip and everything. Forgot about that. He WOULD want vengeance against the guy responsible for his enforced change of lifestyle, wouldn't he?"
"I suppose that had something to do with it…" Giles stammered nervously.
"Wow. Sucks to be that guy. He's just lucky Angel hasn't—"
There was a short silence.
"No. No way." She insisted, shaking her head. " How could he possibly…? Uh- uh. Definitely not."
Giles said nothing. They both knew how their world worked.
"Can you be here in two hours?" Cordelia sighed.
Giles agreed and hung up.
"Who was THAT?" Kate whined again.
Cordelia pressed her hand to her forehead. "Wesley? Gunn? Fred? You up for a road trip?" she asked, flinging the cover of the nearest magic book closed.
To be completed….
Hey, in case you haven't noticed, this is a comedy, not an actual interpretation of how the characters might act in a given situation. I'm doing it for fun. Hope you have fun reading it. Whether you do or you don't, send feedback to Slightlyundead@hotmail.com. Thanks!