Part 3
"Explanations"
This picks up, yet again, where the last one left off.
Feedback is very very good. Please? It's been lacking, and I love it so.
kaffeineaddict@hotmail.com
Now if I could only work out where this is going...
___________________________________________________________________
"H..hullo?" a tired voice said.
"Willow! Hi! It's Cordelia. I didn't wake you up, did I?"
"Well, actually..."
"Oh well, never mind! Anyway, we have a little query relating to a problem we seem to have been fed-exed straight from Sunnydale. And, by the way, not appreciating it!"
"I don't... what problem?"
"Oh, I don't know, it has a drinking problem, British, attitude problem, awful dye-job, quite old, currently chained to my bed. And not in a kinky way."
"Oh. Well, it's either gotta be Ginger Spice, pre-UN makeover, or... Spike?"
"Bingo! So, Spike's in a post-alcohol induced haze, but he's assuring is that he's non-fatal. Is he just trying to suck my blood, or has he got over his pathological lying tendency?"
"Spike's been... well, impotent, for like years now. He's like a puppy. An angry puppy, with fangs. And I should know, he tried to bite me. Buffy didn't tell you?"
"Well, you know me and Buff, not exactly the tightest of amigos. Same with her and Angel, and even Wesley. Did you even know Wesley was here? And Faith's in jail. Anyway, gotta go! Make sure you let little miss Buff know to let us in on important details next time, like, you know, an apocalypse or something." Taking a deep breath, Cordelia groaned. "Willow, I'm sorry, I'm being a bitch. It's been a long... couple of days, and I'm taking it out on you."
"Uh, that's..." Willow was thrown by the apology. Who are you and what have you done with Cordelia? "That's okay, Cordy... I think... I think I need to sleep now. What is the time?"
"Oh, about 5:30. We don't sleep here. Bye Will."
The other end of the line had already gone dead. Willow would now, no doubt, go and tell all her friends how nasty Queen C was being, and how sad little Spike had run off to LA to the losers there. Okay, maybe not in those words; Cordelia was tired and angry with being left out of the loop yet again. She even felt a bit sorry for Spike. She had no idea what it was that had made him find her address, get drunk, and turn up looking for Angel, but it must have been bad. She was sure she detected something in Willow's voice, maybe resentment, but pity.
Cordelia walked back into the living room, where Angel was hanging blankets over the windows.
"I figured that since we seem to be back on daylight hours, I probably wouldn't be of much use sitting in that little room." She nodded, looking distracted. "What is it, Cor?"
"Hmm? Oh, I was just thinking... Willow said that Spike's safe. As in, non-vampire safe. Can't bite or kill. I was just wondering what could have happened that would make him crawl here, of all places. And, no offence, Angel, but there are perfectly just reasons why you aren't Spike's favourite person." Angel shrugged and nodded. "You gave him huge inferiority complexes over hundreds of years, then abandoned him, he was doing a pretty good job ruling over Sunnydale - I should know, I was locked in a cupboard because of it - then you return, steal his girlfriend, force him to ally himself with the one person he really hates. And suddenly, he's here, asking for help? I don't know about you, but I'm at a loss." She was right. Unfortunately, she also dredged up a lot of things Angel wouldn't mind forgetting about, but it was all true. Why the hell had Spike come to them for help?
"Mate, I know I asked you to kill me," a strident voice interrupted his train of thought, "but I didn't really want to be starved to death. Staking's much more... I would say humane, but..."
"I'll give him something. It might shut him up." Cordelia was getting annoyed. She had a dead, and also smelly, thing tied to her nice bed. "Can I unchain him? If he promises not to create mayhem or chaos of ANY description?" Angel looked a bit apprehensive, then nodded.
Cordelia poured some blood into a mug, shoved it in the microwave, pulled it out when it started to bubble, took a deep, cleansing breath, and headed for the bedroom. Spike had managed to wriggle into a semi-sitting position, and was leering at her. She glared at him.
"Here. I thought this might make you shut up." She put the blood on the bedside table. "Now, I'm going to unchain you, if you promise to obey the basic house rules." Spike stared at her, looking bored. "One - no suicide attempts. I like my apartment how it is - without any messy vampire dust. Two - you will cause havoc of no kind. That includes trying to annoy any one of us into staking you, attacking Angel, or rifling through my underwear drawer." Spike's face fell. Damnit, the girl was good. "Three - no alcohol. And you will also shower to get rid of the smell, and let me take you shopping to get new clothes. Because, ew, and, what decade are we in? The 1980s? And, fourth and final, if you intend to hang around here for any length of time, you will make yourself useful. That includes research." Spike raised an eyebrow. She really did have everything thought out. "Oh, and one last thing - this is obligatory. You will join me in making fun of anything stupid that Wesley may say, and will also help make Kate's life hell."
"Who the bloody hell is Kate?"
"You haven't had the displeasure of meeting her yet. So, can I unchain you?" Spike looked at her, miming a pensive face.
"Well, I don't know... are you sure about the part with the underwear drawer?"
"And wardrobe in general."
"Fine. Fine, I'll be your majesty's loyal retriever. D'you have Angel this well trained as well?"
"Well, I try." She smiled at him. He wasn't her favourite vampire, but she could probably get used to him as long as he didn't try anything too despicable. She reached for the keys to the padlocks. "Oh, and you're going to have to tell me everything about what's going on in Sunnydale, and what made you come sobbing back to Angel. Because I have no idea." Spike looked at her, puzzled by her chattiness, and lack of... hostility towards him.
"Love, why're you bein' so nice to me? 's not like you've got any reason to. And please don't tell me you feel sorry for me, does nothing for my manliness." Cordelia honestly wasn't sure. Maybe it was because she could relate to his situation. Social outcast, lonely and miserable. Then again, he probably deserved everything he got. After all, hello, sociopath with homicidal tendencies when unchipped. As the last chain rattled to the floor, she said:
"I don't know. Maybe because you might liven things up around here."
Spike looked her up and down, causing her to raise an eyebrow and reach for a bathrobe. "Count on it, love. Count on it." Swinging his legs off the bed, he reached for the blood and took long gulps. He noticed that she didn't exactly look repulsed. She actually looked more irritated by the time he was taking. As soon as he'd finished, she grabbed the mug and led him out into the hall. "Sorry, all the swallowing got in the way. So, what's happened since last time I was here. Wait, I forgot, I don't care. Let me rephrase - what has my good friend the wanker done that I could make fun of him about in a hundred years or so?"
Cordy slammed the mug into the sink, bristling with anger. "My terms and conditions? Verbally attacking Angel - pretty much the same as physical." She wasn't sure what was causing her to be so overly protective of her boss, but she didn't want to let Spike have the satisfaction of driving her to staking him. Spike was just staring at her, looking vaguely amused.
"Sorry, ducky, didn't know it was like that between you." Spike inwardly grinned. Christ, he loved to stir it.
"Like that?! Like what? Believe me, there is nothing going on between me and Angel." She forced a laugh. I mean, there would be if that idiot knew how to read the signals she'd been giving off - giggling at his lame jokes, wandering about the apartment in her pyjamas, constantly leaning over when talking to him, exposing her cleavage. If it had been anyone else, she'd have written him off as gay already. It was just frustrating that she had to put it down to him not reciprocating the feelings she had. Spike, as if he'd picked up some of Dru's psychic abilities, decided to add:
"Oh, I'm sorry, darlin'. Should've known. You're really not his type. Probably doesn't even fancy you." Spike knew he was outright lying at this point - Cordy couldn't be any more Angel's type - gorgeous, assertive, independent, nice rack - but it was fun. She looked about to snap.
Instead of rising to the baiting, Cordy just grabbed his arm and frog-marched him into the living room. "Angel! Someone wants to talk to you! About emotions, and brooding, and.... and how it doesn't make you a woman if you cry! He's also very interested in the newest styling products, so..." Spike yelped, and pulled away.
"I take it back! Torture me, buy me new clothes, take me to see a horrible chick flick, just please, not the hair care talk, I beg of you!" Cordelia was having trouble keeping a straight face, and Spike smirked triumphantly. He'd won. He wasn't sure what he'd won, but he'd won. Unfortunately for him, Angel didn't seem to be in the mood for laughter today.
"Hello, William." Oh God, here it comes. "How are you?"
"Well, let's think. No-one even would get near enough to me in Sunnydale to stake me, I came here, your secretary is unbearable-" he grinned at Cordy, who glared at him, then started laughing again, "- and you're about to give me the 'I'm so glad you can't bite, now you can be Robin to my Batman, and we can have many a gay romp around my city' talk. Gay in the traditional sense of the word, mind you, cos I don't really fancy you when you're all soulful. Oh, and spare me the pity, because you're going to hate me again as soon as I tell you why I'm here."
"Now, Spike, that's not true," Angel said sternly, "we never stopped hating you. I'm still not too thrilled that you're not chained to a bed." Spike stared at him, horrified.
"A sense of humour. The most boring wanker on this side of the underworld has gone and grown a sense of humour, just when I need him serious. Love, have you been putting something in his blood?" Angel smiled.
"She's a good influence." Cordy was melting under his gaze again, and grinned dizzily. Spike looked between the two of them, and rolled his eyes.
"Oh please, spare me the lovey-duvvy stuff. I don't know how long I'll last with you two eyeing each other up with poor lovelorn Spike stuck in the middle." Both Angel and Cordy opened their mouths to deny everything, so Spike quickly kept going. "Yep, and denial isn't just a river in Egypt. Geddit? Anyway, children, Spikey has a lovely little story to tell you. Hope no-one's too sensitive, it's got strong language, and, if I tell the ending the way I'd like, extremely graphic... violence." Spike sighed. "Don't worry Peaches, nothing that will make you want to do anything other than stake me then run off to Sunnydale. Right, well, it started, as many things do, with a dream..." Luckily, Spike was getting too involved in the misery of his story to notice that, at that comment, Cordy blushed bright pink, and Angel averted his gaze.
* * *
"My God, poor Spike!" Cordelia explained, and Spike melodramatically nodded. "So, you told her you loved her, tried to prove it by killing the other love of your life, and she told you that you were beneath her? Again?!"
Spike launched into his Buffy impersonation again, a high, whiny falsetto. "'But Spike, I could never love a monster like you. You're disgusting, and beneath me, and the only chance you ever had with me was when I was unconscious.' And bear in mind, that last part was after I had poured my guts out to her." He lit a cigarette. "Then Harmony waltzed in, and proceeded to make me look like a right prick by managing to beat me up. Although, I did have an arrow sticking out my back."
"Buffy... she said those things?" Angel couldn't believe it. Even for Buffy, it was... cruel.
"Yep, every word, and more, at one time or another. Worthless bitch." Normally, Angel would kill anyone who spoke of Buffy in that way, but he thought that maybe Spike was entitled to it. It had taken him a good couple of hours to tell his story, with Cordy interjecting at intervals to voice her opinion of Buffy. The thing that surprised Angel was how much he wasn't upset by it. It just confirmed that the thing with Buffy was way in the past. Sure, a part of him would still love her, but another part of him also loved 'psycho bitch Darla', as Cor was so fond of calling her. Cordelia. Now, he felt all the feelings rush to the surface.
"Geez, Spike, can I kill her for you? I mean, I know I don't know you that well, but, apart from the violent vampiric side to you, you're not such a bad guy." Spike raised an eyebrow. "And if you ever get that chip out of your head, I will kill you dead."
"She has the same policy on my soul."
"What can I say. I like my friends to be fang-free. And before you get any ideas, Spike, we are by no means bestest buds, and you're gonna have to make yourself useful before I count you as a friend. But I'm really not scared of you." Spike looked crushed, and gave her a hurt look from where he was sprawled across her couch, chain smoking. "Oh, please, you are so transparent. And I'm hungry." She got up from her chair. "Angel? Where are those earrings that I left on the table? Y'know, before you threw it across the room."
Angel fished around in his pocket, then handed them over to her. "Here, thought I'd better look after them."
"Hmmm. I still find it a little wacky that you managed to tip over the coffee table on your way to get blood. Especially since you walk through the kitchen to get to the living room. Never mind." She walked back into the kitchen, and Angel pointedly did not look at her retreating back. Spike made no secret of ogling her, getting a growl out of Angel.
"Yeah, no feelings there. Peaches, you're going to have to tell me that story again. Because I don't understand. You know, the part about her being asleep, and you NOT watching her. I think you might be lying." Angel stood up, and marched to his little room. Before slamming the door, he yelled out:
"You're lucky that Cordelia is so sentimental and nice. Because I would have tossed you out on your ass into the nearest patch of sunlight quite happily." With that, he closed the door, intent on finishing Goethe's Faust for the hundredth time.
Spike was left grinning to himself on the sofa. He was definitely going to have fun with those two walking hormones. Now, if only the watcher would come home... He lit up another Marlboro, allowing himself to laugh evilly.
"Spike? That's getting annoying. And talking to yourself is a sign of madness." Bloody hell, he must be losing it. He was actually liking their company. Plotting and scheming, he quietly smoked the cigarette. He liked the girl, really, and some carefully planned comments casually thrown at Angel could help her out. Maybe, since he'd been so unlucky in love, he could help those two find happiness. Not perfect happiness, obviously, because he really hated that raving poofter Angelus. But still. He told himself that it wasn't because he liked them, he wasn't being nice. He was just bored. And interfering was what he did best. He let off another cackle of manic laughter.
"Spike, do I need to get Angel back in there? Because that's still annoying."
Bloody women. Now, where did she hide the vodka?
To be continued...
"Explanations"
This picks up, yet again, where the last one left off.
Feedback is very very good. Please? It's been lacking, and I love it so.
kaffeineaddict@hotmail.com
Now if I could only work out where this is going...
___________________________________________________________________
"H..hullo?" a tired voice said.
"Willow! Hi! It's Cordelia. I didn't wake you up, did I?"
"Well, actually..."
"Oh well, never mind! Anyway, we have a little query relating to a problem we seem to have been fed-exed straight from Sunnydale. And, by the way, not appreciating it!"
"I don't... what problem?"
"Oh, I don't know, it has a drinking problem, British, attitude problem, awful dye-job, quite old, currently chained to my bed. And not in a kinky way."
"Oh. Well, it's either gotta be Ginger Spice, pre-UN makeover, or... Spike?"
"Bingo! So, Spike's in a post-alcohol induced haze, but he's assuring is that he's non-fatal. Is he just trying to suck my blood, or has he got over his pathological lying tendency?"
"Spike's been... well, impotent, for like years now. He's like a puppy. An angry puppy, with fangs. And I should know, he tried to bite me. Buffy didn't tell you?"
"Well, you know me and Buff, not exactly the tightest of amigos. Same with her and Angel, and even Wesley. Did you even know Wesley was here? And Faith's in jail. Anyway, gotta go! Make sure you let little miss Buff know to let us in on important details next time, like, you know, an apocalypse or something." Taking a deep breath, Cordelia groaned. "Willow, I'm sorry, I'm being a bitch. It's been a long... couple of days, and I'm taking it out on you."
"Uh, that's..." Willow was thrown by the apology. Who are you and what have you done with Cordelia? "That's okay, Cordy... I think... I think I need to sleep now. What is the time?"
"Oh, about 5:30. We don't sleep here. Bye Will."
The other end of the line had already gone dead. Willow would now, no doubt, go and tell all her friends how nasty Queen C was being, and how sad little Spike had run off to LA to the losers there. Okay, maybe not in those words; Cordelia was tired and angry with being left out of the loop yet again. She even felt a bit sorry for Spike. She had no idea what it was that had made him find her address, get drunk, and turn up looking for Angel, but it must have been bad. She was sure she detected something in Willow's voice, maybe resentment, but pity.
Cordelia walked back into the living room, where Angel was hanging blankets over the windows.
"I figured that since we seem to be back on daylight hours, I probably wouldn't be of much use sitting in that little room." She nodded, looking distracted. "What is it, Cor?"
"Hmm? Oh, I was just thinking... Willow said that Spike's safe. As in, non-vampire safe. Can't bite or kill. I was just wondering what could have happened that would make him crawl here, of all places. And, no offence, Angel, but there are perfectly just reasons why you aren't Spike's favourite person." Angel shrugged and nodded. "You gave him huge inferiority complexes over hundreds of years, then abandoned him, he was doing a pretty good job ruling over Sunnydale - I should know, I was locked in a cupboard because of it - then you return, steal his girlfriend, force him to ally himself with the one person he really hates. And suddenly, he's here, asking for help? I don't know about you, but I'm at a loss." She was right. Unfortunately, she also dredged up a lot of things Angel wouldn't mind forgetting about, but it was all true. Why the hell had Spike come to them for help?
"Mate, I know I asked you to kill me," a strident voice interrupted his train of thought, "but I didn't really want to be starved to death. Staking's much more... I would say humane, but..."
"I'll give him something. It might shut him up." Cordelia was getting annoyed. She had a dead, and also smelly, thing tied to her nice bed. "Can I unchain him? If he promises not to create mayhem or chaos of ANY description?" Angel looked a bit apprehensive, then nodded.
Cordelia poured some blood into a mug, shoved it in the microwave, pulled it out when it started to bubble, took a deep, cleansing breath, and headed for the bedroom. Spike had managed to wriggle into a semi-sitting position, and was leering at her. She glared at him.
"Here. I thought this might make you shut up." She put the blood on the bedside table. "Now, I'm going to unchain you, if you promise to obey the basic house rules." Spike stared at her, looking bored. "One - no suicide attempts. I like my apartment how it is - without any messy vampire dust. Two - you will cause havoc of no kind. That includes trying to annoy any one of us into staking you, attacking Angel, or rifling through my underwear drawer." Spike's face fell. Damnit, the girl was good. "Three - no alcohol. And you will also shower to get rid of the smell, and let me take you shopping to get new clothes. Because, ew, and, what decade are we in? The 1980s? And, fourth and final, if you intend to hang around here for any length of time, you will make yourself useful. That includes research." Spike raised an eyebrow. She really did have everything thought out. "Oh, and one last thing - this is obligatory. You will join me in making fun of anything stupid that Wesley may say, and will also help make Kate's life hell."
"Who the bloody hell is Kate?"
"You haven't had the displeasure of meeting her yet. So, can I unchain you?" Spike looked at her, miming a pensive face.
"Well, I don't know... are you sure about the part with the underwear drawer?"
"And wardrobe in general."
"Fine. Fine, I'll be your majesty's loyal retriever. D'you have Angel this well trained as well?"
"Well, I try." She smiled at him. He wasn't her favourite vampire, but she could probably get used to him as long as he didn't try anything too despicable. She reached for the keys to the padlocks. "Oh, and you're going to have to tell me everything about what's going on in Sunnydale, and what made you come sobbing back to Angel. Because I have no idea." Spike looked at her, puzzled by her chattiness, and lack of... hostility towards him.
"Love, why're you bein' so nice to me? 's not like you've got any reason to. And please don't tell me you feel sorry for me, does nothing for my manliness." Cordelia honestly wasn't sure. Maybe it was because she could relate to his situation. Social outcast, lonely and miserable. Then again, he probably deserved everything he got. After all, hello, sociopath with homicidal tendencies when unchipped. As the last chain rattled to the floor, she said:
"I don't know. Maybe because you might liven things up around here."
Spike looked her up and down, causing her to raise an eyebrow and reach for a bathrobe. "Count on it, love. Count on it." Swinging his legs off the bed, he reached for the blood and took long gulps. He noticed that she didn't exactly look repulsed. She actually looked more irritated by the time he was taking. As soon as he'd finished, she grabbed the mug and led him out into the hall. "Sorry, all the swallowing got in the way. So, what's happened since last time I was here. Wait, I forgot, I don't care. Let me rephrase - what has my good friend the wanker done that I could make fun of him about in a hundred years or so?"
Cordy slammed the mug into the sink, bristling with anger. "My terms and conditions? Verbally attacking Angel - pretty much the same as physical." She wasn't sure what was causing her to be so overly protective of her boss, but she didn't want to let Spike have the satisfaction of driving her to staking him. Spike was just staring at her, looking vaguely amused.
"Sorry, ducky, didn't know it was like that between you." Spike inwardly grinned. Christ, he loved to stir it.
"Like that?! Like what? Believe me, there is nothing going on between me and Angel." She forced a laugh. I mean, there would be if that idiot knew how to read the signals she'd been giving off - giggling at his lame jokes, wandering about the apartment in her pyjamas, constantly leaning over when talking to him, exposing her cleavage. If it had been anyone else, she'd have written him off as gay already. It was just frustrating that she had to put it down to him not reciprocating the feelings she had. Spike, as if he'd picked up some of Dru's psychic abilities, decided to add:
"Oh, I'm sorry, darlin'. Should've known. You're really not his type. Probably doesn't even fancy you." Spike knew he was outright lying at this point - Cordy couldn't be any more Angel's type - gorgeous, assertive, independent, nice rack - but it was fun. She looked about to snap.
Instead of rising to the baiting, Cordy just grabbed his arm and frog-marched him into the living room. "Angel! Someone wants to talk to you! About emotions, and brooding, and.... and how it doesn't make you a woman if you cry! He's also very interested in the newest styling products, so..." Spike yelped, and pulled away.
"I take it back! Torture me, buy me new clothes, take me to see a horrible chick flick, just please, not the hair care talk, I beg of you!" Cordelia was having trouble keeping a straight face, and Spike smirked triumphantly. He'd won. He wasn't sure what he'd won, but he'd won. Unfortunately for him, Angel didn't seem to be in the mood for laughter today.
"Hello, William." Oh God, here it comes. "How are you?"
"Well, let's think. No-one even would get near enough to me in Sunnydale to stake me, I came here, your secretary is unbearable-" he grinned at Cordy, who glared at him, then started laughing again, "- and you're about to give me the 'I'm so glad you can't bite, now you can be Robin to my Batman, and we can have many a gay romp around my city' talk. Gay in the traditional sense of the word, mind you, cos I don't really fancy you when you're all soulful. Oh, and spare me the pity, because you're going to hate me again as soon as I tell you why I'm here."
"Now, Spike, that's not true," Angel said sternly, "we never stopped hating you. I'm still not too thrilled that you're not chained to a bed." Spike stared at him, horrified.
"A sense of humour. The most boring wanker on this side of the underworld has gone and grown a sense of humour, just when I need him serious. Love, have you been putting something in his blood?" Angel smiled.
"She's a good influence." Cordy was melting under his gaze again, and grinned dizzily. Spike looked between the two of them, and rolled his eyes.
"Oh please, spare me the lovey-duvvy stuff. I don't know how long I'll last with you two eyeing each other up with poor lovelorn Spike stuck in the middle." Both Angel and Cordy opened their mouths to deny everything, so Spike quickly kept going. "Yep, and denial isn't just a river in Egypt. Geddit? Anyway, children, Spikey has a lovely little story to tell you. Hope no-one's too sensitive, it's got strong language, and, if I tell the ending the way I'd like, extremely graphic... violence." Spike sighed. "Don't worry Peaches, nothing that will make you want to do anything other than stake me then run off to Sunnydale. Right, well, it started, as many things do, with a dream..." Luckily, Spike was getting too involved in the misery of his story to notice that, at that comment, Cordy blushed bright pink, and Angel averted his gaze.
* * *
"My God, poor Spike!" Cordelia explained, and Spike melodramatically nodded. "So, you told her you loved her, tried to prove it by killing the other love of your life, and she told you that you were beneath her? Again?!"
Spike launched into his Buffy impersonation again, a high, whiny falsetto. "'But Spike, I could never love a monster like you. You're disgusting, and beneath me, and the only chance you ever had with me was when I was unconscious.' And bear in mind, that last part was after I had poured my guts out to her." He lit a cigarette. "Then Harmony waltzed in, and proceeded to make me look like a right prick by managing to beat me up. Although, I did have an arrow sticking out my back."
"Buffy... she said those things?" Angel couldn't believe it. Even for Buffy, it was... cruel.
"Yep, every word, and more, at one time or another. Worthless bitch." Normally, Angel would kill anyone who spoke of Buffy in that way, but he thought that maybe Spike was entitled to it. It had taken him a good couple of hours to tell his story, with Cordy interjecting at intervals to voice her opinion of Buffy. The thing that surprised Angel was how much he wasn't upset by it. It just confirmed that the thing with Buffy was way in the past. Sure, a part of him would still love her, but another part of him also loved 'psycho bitch Darla', as Cor was so fond of calling her. Cordelia. Now, he felt all the feelings rush to the surface.
"Geez, Spike, can I kill her for you? I mean, I know I don't know you that well, but, apart from the violent vampiric side to you, you're not such a bad guy." Spike raised an eyebrow. "And if you ever get that chip out of your head, I will kill you dead."
"She has the same policy on my soul."
"What can I say. I like my friends to be fang-free. And before you get any ideas, Spike, we are by no means bestest buds, and you're gonna have to make yourself useful before I count you as a friend. But I'm really not scared of you." Spike looked crushed, and gave her a hurt look from where he was sprawled across her couch, chain smoking. "Oh, please, you are so transparent. And I'm hungry." She got up from her chair. "Angel? Where are those earrings that I left on the table? Y'know, before you threw it across the room."
Angel fished around in his pocket, then handed them over to her. "Here, thought I'd better look after them."
"Hmmm. I still find it a little wacky that you managed to tip over the coffee table on your way to get blood. Especially since you walk through the kitchen to get to the living room. Never mind." She walked back into the kitchen, and Angel pointedly did not look at her retreating back. Spike made no secret of ogling her, getting a growl out of Angel.
"Yeah, no feelings there. Peaches, you're going to have to tell me that story again. Because I don't understand. You know, the part about her being asleep, and you NOT watching her. I think you might be lying." Angel stood up, and marched to his little room. Before slamming the door, he yelled out:
"You're lucky that Cordelia is so sentimental and nice. Because I would have tossed you out on your ass into the nearest patch of sunlight quite happily." With that, he closed the door, intent on finishing Goethe's Faust for the hundredth time.
Spike was left grinning to himself on the sofa. He was definitely going to have fun with those two walking hormones. Now, if only the watcher would come home... He lit up another Marlboro, allowing himself to laugh evilly.
"Spike? That's getting annoying. And talking to yourself is a sign of madness." Bloody hell, he must be losing it. He was actually liking their company. Plotting and scheming, he quietly smoked the cigarette. He liked the girl, really, and some carefully planned comments casually thrown at Angel could help her out. Maybe, since he'd been so unlucky in love, he could help those two find happiness. Not perfect happiness, obviously, because he really hated that raving poofter Angelus. But still. He told himself that it wasn't because he liked them, he wasn't being nice. He was just bored. And interfering was what he did best. He let off another cackle of manic laughter.
"Spike, do I need to get Angel back in there? Because that's still annoying."
Bloody women. Now, where did she hide the vodka?
To be continued...