Pretty Postcards From Hell
Sequel To "Secure Yourself
To Heaven"
By Lori Bush
~**~
Feedback:
lwbush@charter.net or onlist is fine
Disclaimer: Joss
Whedon, etc. own Buffy. You know the routine.
Distribution: Let
me know, 'kay? Any list it's sent to is cool.
Summary: The next
Big Bad may just be a very familiar face…
Continuity: See
"Secure Yourself" for the details. Angel has had his flirtation with Darla and
the Dark Side and come back with his tail between his legs.
Pairing:
B/X and G/W, probably A/C, since Shawn asked for it so nicely. (I expect that
chocolate, young man!)
Rating: R
Author's notes:
Many people asked for this, so I had to do it. Not only that, but I'm writing
the "Angel" characters for the first time in this one. I so love Cordy now she's
off in LA. If you haven't read the first story, you will be hopelessly lost and
even a GPS won't help.
Dedicated:
To all you wonderful people who kept me going while I was struggling with the
last few parts of "Secure Yourself." I hope you like this one as much.
~**~
Xander Harris stretched
himself in the chair, enjoying his coffee and the early morning sunshine. The
day was new enough that there was dew clinging to the grass, and the birds were
serenading him cheerily. The air was still cool, with little hint of the dry
California heat that would blanket this very yard in a few hours. He'd adopted
the habit of rising early, before the rest of the household, often, and taking
his coffee outside to relax by the pool and enjoy it.
He was spoiled, no question.
Rotten. He had the most wonderful house, a great job with the wonders of
flexibility (since he was self-employed, for the most part), his best friends
around all the time, and the woman he loved every night in his bed.
It had been several months
since Willow had almost died. Several months since the last time Unity had been
needed, although they'd called her up a few times since, just to be sure they
still could. Unity was a single being, forged from the four best friends –
Xander, Giles, Willow and Buffy – with superhuman strength and abilities. Since
Unity stopped being simply the sum of her parts and began becoming a
personality unto herself, they felt sometimes like she was the absent member of
their team. So every now and then, they'd join themselves and see how she was
doing. Even though her intellect was built on that of Rupert Giles, she
apparently thought her own thoughts now even while she was Divided into the
four Parts, and they were always amazed to hear what she had been considering
while they were busy living their daily lives.
And what wonderful daily
lives they lived, on the whole. Sure, Sunnydale was still Demon Central
Station, with hot and cold running creepies all around, but they had it under
control. As a part of Unity, Buffy had even more strength than she had ever had
before, and Xander had begun to refer to their nightly patrols as visits to
"Vamps 'R' Dust." Dawn was living the life of a normal teenaged girl (as normal
as one living on the Hellmouth could be, anyway), Willow was acing school, and
they had this awesome house. The house…
The Watcher's Council had
been highly ashamed of the fact that one of their own had tried to destroy the
hope for humanity that was the Unity. That Quentin Travers, assigned to merely
monitor the Unity, had instead taken a large, sharp ceremonial knife and
plunged it into the heart of one of her Parts. And that only the fact that
Willow and her "Rupes" had found new and creative uses for the desk in the
magic shop office, causing them to bind into a single soul, saved the redheaded
witch from death. The Council showed their deep regret and repentant spirit in
a way that beat the hell out of a Hallmark Card – they paid off the four
members of Unity. Generously. No, make that obscenely.
Giles had paid off the
mortgage on the Magic Box. Xander had paid off his truck. Buffy had quit the
stupid temp job, and made sure her mother and sister would never want for
anything again. Willow just smiled and invested online. And they'd gone
together and bought the house of all their dreams.
Buffy, being the member of
the team with the most free time these days, had located it. It was on the
street where Cordelia used to live – the area of the town where People With
Money lived. They'd had a few requirements in mind when they began looking. The
house had to have at least four bedrooms, in order to be able to house the four
of them and any visitors without difficulty. Since Giles and Willow and Buffy
and Xander had become couples, they wanted two Master suites, leaving two guest
rooms. They needed those two suites to be as far apart as physically possible,
since neither couple was exactly the quietest, and they still enjoyed a bit of
privacy for their romantic lives. It needed to have a basement they could
convert into a gym for Buffy's training. This had been the place with all that
– actually, it had *five* bedrooms. Xander surveyed the backyard, grinning. The
pool and hot tub had been a bonus.
He gazed over at the French
doors that opened from Willow and Giles' suite out to the pool, knowing that
there was an identical set behind him from his and Buffy's room. Turning his
head slightly, he could see in through the huge plate glass window to the
elegantly decorated living room – Buffy and Willow's handiwork, not his. Why
the hell did they want a grand piano? None of them could play more than
"Chopsticks." His gaze wandered across the neatly manicured lawn – along with
carpentry, it seemed he had a talent for landscaping. He spent hours in the
yard, on days he wasn't working, trimming and planting, and reaping the
benefits afterwards with Buffy's appreciation for "sweaty Xander." For the
first time in his life, he had a nice tan.
Xander shook his head. He
must be dreaming. Sometime soon, he'd wake up, and find out what he'd always
known in the past. Anything that was too good to be true wasn't. Maybe he just
needed someone to pinch him, let him know it was all real.
"Ow!"
*It's real, doofus. Come
back to bed.*
*Why is it you pinch
yourself, but it only hurts *me* enough to bruise? You always come away
spotless.* He could sense Buffy's lascivious grin through their mental
connection.
*Like I said, come back to
bed. I'll let you check for marks…*
Coffee forgotten, he slid
back through the French doors, and locked them behind himself as he went in.
~**~
"Come now, Mr. Travers, it's
time for your medicine." The private nurse spoke in a singsong voice, like to a
little child. "There. That's very good." She turned to her employer, sitting
silently in the corner. "I'll be back in four hours, unless you need me for
anything else?" The elderly man shook his head.
"I'll page you if anything
comes up," he dismissed her with a wave of his hand. Once she was safely out of
the room, he turned to his protégé and smiled. "A good day today, Quentin?"
"I think so," the other man
answered a bit thickly. "I can think clearer than yesterday, anyway. That
damned medicine…" he began to whine.
"…Keeps you from hurting
yourself and others. We may be able to adjust the dosage downward a bit more.
You've been doing very well this week." A combination of textbook paranoia and
clinical depression had turned the once powerful Watcher into a dangerously
underhanded criminal mind. Only strong medicine kept him docile enough to walk
freely. Before the complete diagnosis was in, he'd gotten loose in the Council
chambers, and the Watcher from Ireland, Eileen McDougal, had to be rushed to
surgery, and retired with full pay afterward. They finally let Travers out of
the straightjacket two months ago, and were still fine-tuning the drugs.
The madness crept into his
eyes for a moment. "What's the latest on Unity?" the former Watcher asked,
almost salivating. He had an obsession of mammoth proportions with the
supernatural being.
"They've been surprisingly
quiet," the older man answered. "I still haven't figured out how to get cameras
into that new house of theirs, but I do know everything that goes on outside,
and believe me when I say that watching the Harris boy trim the shrubs is
beyond mind-numbing." Ernst Heinrich stood and walked to the desk, picking up a
piece of paper. "However, if the plan I told you about works as it should,
things could be picking up shortly." He smiled evilly.
Every man, it has been said,
has his price. Heinrich, the eldest of the Watchers, had watched Unity with
growing dread since her inception. First, she undermined the institution of the
Slayer, being as she was made partly from the current one. The existence of a
Watcher, Rupert Giles, in the Parts of Unity rendered the Watcher's Council
basically invalid in her management. Her powers were nearly unstoppable, and he
feared what could happen if evil took hold in her heart. He'd already watched
the fall of one Slayer, Faith, and seen the damage she could do. Multiply her strength
and cunning, and who knew what could be unleashed?
So when the opportunity came
to send Travers and Dr. Andrea Fairhope to monitor and find ways to control the
Unity, he'd been the strongest proponent on the Council. He'd signed without
question invoices for any materials Quentin had requested, and fed the other
Watcher's growing paranoia with his own. He feared Unity, and wouldn't weep to
see her destroyed. But Ernst remained in the shadows of it all, unwilling to
risk his own position of power if something should go wrong.
And go wrong, it had.
Travers had let madness overtake reason, and hadn't properly indoctrinated Dr.
Fairhope before he lost it, leaving gaping holes in his plan through which the
entire operation fell. Heinrich had maintained his plausible deniability,
taking on Quentin Travers' care upon his return to England under the guise of a
Senior Watcher's responsibility. His discrete enquiries for a doctor that was
willing to stretch the Hippocratic Oath to suit his needs had, however, drawn
the attention of another group.
They'd promised they could
control Unity – that killing her would be a waste. They had "uses" for her. It
could never be traced back to him, and it would reinvigorate the Watcher's
Council, since they would be needed even more once Unity was turned to this
group's purposes. A newer, stronger, better-controlled Slayer would be needed.
The Council would have purpose again.
Ernst liked to tell himself
that that was the deciding factor – the integrity of the Council. But he
couldn't really deny that the fifty million dollars certainly kept him from
reconsidering when he finally threw his lot in with Wolfram and Hart.
~**~
It had stopped being
comment-worthy long ago when one of the couples would emerge from their respective
bedroom flushed and dreamy-eyed, so Willow and Giles paid the other two little
notice when they came out a couple hours later.
"Damned Water Company,"
Giles was fuming. "I can't stand coffee in the morning." He went over to the
faucet, trying it in frustration.
"Same result as five seconds
ago, Rupes," Willow observed with a grin from behind her mug. "Some of us are
just thankful that Xander made the coffee early enough that the water was still
on." She winked at the other two. "He's such a fiend without his tea."
"Yeah," Xander pitched in.
"We just tried to take a shower, ourselves. No luck." He and Buffy grinned in
spite of his disappointed tone. Then his smile widened. "We're gonna go in the
pool, instead." He gestured to their bathing suits.
"After we eat," Buffy
reminded him, digging in the cabinets and emerging with a box of Life cereal.
"We do have milk, don't we?"
"Yes, we have bloody milk,
just no *water,*" the former Watcher said icily.
"Come on, my big angry bear,
let's go to the Magic Box. Maybe the water will be on there," Willow said
sympathetically, taking her lover by the hand. "See you guys later," she waved
as they went out the garage door.
Xander retrieved two bowls
from the cabinet by the sink. "He does have a temper, sometimes, doesn't he?"
Buffy set out the milk and
poured her cereal, nodding. "It's a good thing Willow is so easy-going. She
handles him well. And he doesn't get like that very often."
Her boyfriend took a big
spoonful of crunchy sweet goodness, and was still chomping when he spoke.
"Since we didn't get a shower together, can we go skinny-dipping?" he asked
hopefully.
The Slayer slapped his arm.
"No, no way! And don't talk with your mouth full."
~**~
Angel awakened to the sound
of someone *leaning* on his doorbell. "All right – keep your pants on," he
yelled sleepily, pulling a shirt on, but not bothering to cover his boxers.
"I'm on my way!" Yanking the door wide open, he stared at the figure that had
disturbed his sleep. He was still struggling with the whole sunlight and
working with day-dwellers issue, and hadn't established a regular sleep
schedule yet. At this rate, he never would. "Cordelia?" He glanced over his
shoulder at the clock on the mantle. "What are you doing here at seven in the
morning?"
She stumbled in, pale and
troubled. "An early wakeup call from the Vision Express," the girl explained,
rubbing her head. "Got any aspirin?" The vampire hurried to his bathroom,
pulling out a bottle he kept on hand for this very woman. In reflection, he
realized that Cordy was dressed in rumpled clothing, as if she had thrown on
the first thing that she'd laid her hands on, instead of looking to-die-for put
together, as she usually did. He went and filled a glass with water.
"Thanks." She looked at him
with red-rimmed eyes, and his heart went out to her once more. These visions
were taxing, he knew, but had rarely come on her at random times of the day or
night – most of the trouble he and his friends fought had the decency to keep
the same hours they did. Without preamble, she launched her tale. "Sunnydale –
big evil. Trouble for Xander, Giles, Willow and Buffy. Dark – very dark." She
was gasping, clearly disturbed by the danger to her ex (and his as well),
pouring out the story in chunks of nouns without verbs interspersed.
Angel grabbed her shoulders,
shaking her slightly. "Slow down, Cor. We'll go, but I need more details. Sit
down, breathe, and tell me everything you saw."
After she finally gave him
every detail she could dredge up, he picked up the phone and punched in a
number. "Wes? Yeah, sorry to wake you. Pack and get over here as fast as you
can – I need you to go with Cordelia to Sunnydale. I'll join you guys later." A
few minutes pause on Angel's end of the line. "Uhm, yeah, you still are," Angel
said sheepishly. Then, "No, no reason, I guess." He was sounding less sure of
himself by the minute. Cordelia grabbed the phone out of his hand.
"Wes, vision – bad. Gotta go
now. No time for testosterone battles, so get over it, and get here, pronto."
She listened only for a moment. "Good. See you soon." Hanging up the phone, she
dusted off her hands, a bit of the normal Cordelia confidence back in her
posture. "When are you two going to accept that *neither* of you call the
shots?" Looking at her watch, she sighed. "So much to pack, so little time.
Back soon."
~**~
"Are you sure this is the
right address?" Cordelia asked Wesley for at least the fifth time. "I mean, it
doesn't surprise me too much that Buffy doesn't live at home anymore, but I
thought she'd be in college, at the dorms, not in a house somewhere. A house in
my old neighborhood, no less. Maybe she's working as an au pair or something."
"Cordelia," the young
Englishman answered patiently, "I do believe my glasses are up to standard, and
I've read the slip correctly. Besides the fact that you checked it three times
with Mrs. Summers. Why don't we try the bell?" Avoiding further discussion, he
pressed the button by the door.
The intercom above the
button crackled to life. "Yes?" It did sound like Buffy. The pair looked at the
offending grillwork, then at each other.
"Urhm, yes," Wesley began
formally, "Wesley Wyndham-Price and Cordelia Chase to see Miss Buffy Summers,
please."
The grill responded with a
squeal. "Wes! Cordy! I'll be right there!" They heard the pounding of footsteps
behind the door, and it flew open, an excited Slyer appearing. "I haven't seen
either of you in forever," she crowed, hugging them both. Wes blushed almost
purple as he became painfully aware of how much naked Buffy flesh was pressed
to his body due to the tiny bikini she was wearing. "Where are my manners? Come
in," she offered, motioning to them. "Can I get you something to drink?"
They followed her down the
hall, emerging in a bright, airy and enormous kitchen. "We have Coke, Sprite,
juice, milk, water…oh, wait," she went over to the tap and tried it, with no
results. "Bottled water," she corrected herself. "And I can make some fresh
coffee if you want. Oh wait, can't. No water." She shrugged. "We have beer,
too, but it's still kinda early."
"Buffy," Cordelia said
impatiently, "We're not here to inventory your beverages. Although I will take
a bottle of water, thanks." Wes glared at her, and she shrugged. "Anyway, we're
here to warn you about something evil, that I think could put you in serious
danger, and while I know you handle that kind of thing a lot, this seemed to
rank right up there with some of the biggest of the Big Bads."
Buffy held up a finger. "Unless you want to tell it twice, wait
just a minute."
Cordelia was surprised when
a door from outside swung open, revealing a tanned and shapely male body, damp
swim shorts worn low on his hips. This must be Buffy's Sugar Daddy, the May
Queen thought, and the Slayer certainly could have done worse, from what she could
see. He was rubbing his hair dry, the towel obscuring his face. "Hey, baby,"
Buffy greeted him, confirming her view of the relationship, "Cordelia has news
I thought you'd want to hear."
The former cheerleader held
out her hand in introduction. "Nice to meet you, I'm…" she looked up into very
familiar chocolate brown eyes, "Xander Harris?"
Xander grinned. "No, I think
I am. Good to see you, Cor." Then he pulled her to him and wrapped her in a
bear hug that clearly showed he no longer had guilty feelings about their
relationship and how it had ended. Backing away, he held her at arms length. "I
like the hair."
Touching her short blonde
locks, Cordy was still stunned at who Buffy's apparent rich mystery lover was.
"Xander?"
"I think we've covered that
ground, Cordy. Big bad? Remember?" Apparently, Buffy's patience level hadn't
grown any. The Slayer slid herself under Xander's arm, and looked at him as if
he'd said something. "You're right," she responded out of the clear blue,
"Giles and Willow should be here too. He's had time to have his tea by now,
should I call, or just…?"
Xander kissed her nose.
"Already done. They'll be here in about fifteen, since Willow cut class again
today to be with him. So, Cordy, if you don't want to be constantly repeating
yourself, can the story wait a few more minutes?"
For quite possibly the first
time in her life, Cordelia Chase was speechless. Xander and Buffy apparently
were lovers. One of them had come into money, or something. Buffy's words, and
Xander's as well, had indicated that Willow, whom last Cordelia had heard had a
*girlfriend,* now had some kind of a relationship with the stuffy old English
librarian that would cause Miss Responsibility to cut classes. Perhaps the
great evil she had foreseen was that all her former friends and acquaintances
had been replaced by doubles from a parallel world. Hell, this could be
Sunnydale's own "Invasion Of The Body Snatchers." Not to mention the hints of
non-verbal communication that had been bandied about.
It was too much. She'd been
wakened by visions of great evil. She'd seen these people, who she cared for
almost as much as her friends in LA, being devoured by a Big Bad that gave her
the willies, and with her job, Cordelia didn't get willies easily. The sick
headache still hadn't completely eased. She'd had to pack in *twenty minutes*
for God's sake!
The easiest thing to do was
to shut down, and sort it out later. Wesley caught the fainting Cordelia before
her head hit the marble kitchen floor.
~**~
