TITLE:
Darkest Before Dawn #8 "Cordy"
AUTHOR:
Nmissi
PART: 8/?
DISCLAIMER: I own Nothing and No one. Especially not Spike. If I did,
what makes you think I'd share him with you?
DISTRIBUTION: Anybody, just credit me and let me know where it's
going.
Feedback: Please. Nmissi@aol.com
SUMMARY: The way the world would work if I wrote the Buffyverse.
Opening the door to her apartment, Cordelia Chase addressed her remarks to the air.
"Dennis? This is Dawn. She's going to be visiting us today."
Then she turned to the girl.
"Dawn, this is my apartment. Should you see any freaky stuff, such as things moving, turning on and off by themselves, don't get scared. My roomie is a ghost. And he's usually a perfect gentleman."
Dawn gave a strange look.
"Okay. Wiggy, but okay. ' Hi Dennis, nice to meet you'."
Somewhere in the apartment, soft music began to play. Cordy placed the McBags on the table and fetched plates and silverware from the drainboard on the counter.
"I know you said you're not hungry, but I ordered two hotcake platters just in case."
She set the table, and prepared the cakes, drizzling her own liberally in maple syrup. Then she got a tub of Orange Juice from the fridge, and poured a glass for her guest. She got herself a cup of tea from the pot on the counter, and finally sat down at the table.
She just sat there, looking expectantly at Dawn. Finally the girl gave an annoyed "Humph" and slumped into the other chair, arms folded across her chest. She was the very picture of teenage obstinacy.
Cordy set about her breakfast, while the smell of food worked on Dawn to restore her appetite. As the older girl finished her plate, Dawn got started on hers.
"Well now- Good to see you've got your appetite back," said Cordy, as she took in the scene. Dawn was now scraping up the last of the syrup with the edge of her fork.
" Your appetite, and maybe a couple other people's too. I thought you Summers girls were afraid of food."
Nary a crumb left in sight, she'd made good work of the plate.
"Nah. That's just Buffy. She's been on a diet since middle school."
Cordy loaded the dishes into the sink, and filled it with soapy water. She chucked a dishtowel at Dawn.
"Here. You dry."
The clatter of dishes was only interrupted by the occasional question and answer.
"Where do these go?"
"In the cabinet over your head."
Cordy wanted to console the girl, wanted to get her to talk about what was going on. But she was out of her depths. She'd never lost a parent, and couldn't imagine what she was supposed to say to Dawn. "I'm sorry" seemed lame beyond belief, and "It will get easier" was most likely a lie. So she distracted Dawn with normalcy, like eating breakfast and drying dishes. It was easier than the alternative. Sometimes, Demon slaying seemed so much easier than the real stuff. It was messy, sure. But human emotions were messier.
"Where does this one go?"
Cordy looked up.
"Oh. It goes with the waffle iron. Bottom shelf, behind the cookie Jar."
Dawn looked around the counter top.
"What cookie jar? I don't see one."
"Umm. Big cow? With the bell?"
Dawn located it, and was helpless not to smile. It was total kitsch- tacky and cute at the same time. She had to know. She reached out a hand, and lifted the head.
"Mrroooo".
Her laughter startled them both. Cordy smiled at her.
"What's in it?" she asked.
"Snackwell's. Devil's food cookies. You can have one if you want."
Dawn reached in, feeling around the cow's belly, and came up with a cookie. She bit into it, as she laid the dishtowel onto the countertop.
And then it hit her again. Like a punch to the gut it deprived her of air. The chocolate in her mouth tasted like cardboard, and she choked. Mom was dead. For a second, she'd forgotten, and was new all over again. Mom was dead. She was standing in a kitchen in L. A. chewing chocolate while her mother lay in the ground in Sunnydale Memorial Gardens. Mom liked chocolate. She would never split a box of Thin Mints with her mother ever again.
Cordelia was pushing something into her hand. A glass of water. And she was whacking her on the back.
"St-stop. Stop it. Cordy, I'm fine," she said, catching her breath. She took a gulp of water.
"I'm sorry. You were choking."
"I'm okay now. You can stop pounding on me."
Cordy stopped hitting her, shamefaced and uncomfortable.
"I'm sorry. I didn't know what else to do right then. Did I- Did I hurt you?"
Dawn rubbed at her shoulder with her right hand, the glass of water still in her left. She must have dropped the cookie, she surmised.
"No, you didn't hurt me. I'm okay."
Cordy stepped back, and studied her.
"You were thinking about your mom, weren't you?"
Dawn nodded.
Cordy sighed.
"I really don't know what to say. I know I ought to say something comforting, uplifting and all that. But nothing's coming to mind except that I'm really, really sorry. And I liked your mom a lot."
"Thanks."
She thought for a moment. Then she brightened, and gave the girl a cheery grin.
"Have you been to L. A. before?"
Dawn shrugged.
"A few times. My dad lives here, you know."
"Oh. Well, I had some errands planned for today. Feel up to joining me on them?"
Dawn shook her head.
"I don't know, Cordy, I'm not really in the mood"-
Her hostess would brook no argument.
"Come on! It'll be fun. We'll hit Rodeo Drive, do the shops. I'll even buy you something, okay? Maybe some shoes, or something?"
She was trying to be sympathetic. Dawn got that. In her own weird way, Cordy was hoping to comfort her with credit. The hopeful look in her brown eyes was impossible to refuse.
"Okay. Just for a few hours."
Cordy beamed. She'd done something right, she was sure of it. She'd get the girl out shopping and for a few hours, she might smile like she had done, in the kitchen there, for a few minutes. She'd smile and she'd forget she was supposed to be sad. And that would be enough.