Part 4
"Slime, Water and General Confusion"
______________________________________________________________
"Well, that was fun!" Spike bounced through the front door, followed by a very tired and irritated looking Angel. Both men were absolutely, covered, from head to toe, with slime and entrails. In fact, there was actually something slithering down Spike's coat to the floor, leaving a silver trail running down the leather. He stepped on it, just to check it was dead, and there was a horrible crunching sound. Cordelia just knew that the stuff would seep down between the tiles of the entrance hall, leaving a foul smell for her to remember it by.
"Spike. I have never seen anything so disgusting in my life. You are aware that it is possible to kill things quickly, which generally means less dry cleaning required?"
"Well, yeah. But how enjoyable would that be?" Angel walked past Spike, and turned to Cordelia, who was looking horrified at the amount of muck that was being traipsed through her apartment. Angel was being careful, but Spike really didn't seem to care.
"My boy here likes to play with his victims. He decided to get his violence fix by beating the Elfrach demon to a pulp, before managing to set fire to it with his lighter. And a tank of lighter fluid. Where did you get that from again?" Spike looked sheepish, then got defensive.
"How the hell was I supposed to know that decapitation kills an Elfrach? Fire makes them implode," he added as an aside. Cordelia nodded.
"So THAT's why you guys look like you're auditioning for parts as extras in a B rate horror movie. What is it, 'Mutant Slime: When Gunge Fights Back'?" She rolled her eyes when Angel looked confused at any kind of pop culture allusion, while Spike tried to start to comment. "Whatever. At this point, all I'm aware of is the fact that I'm going to have to start telling people that my carpet is supposed to be avocado green."
Angel looked at her apologetically, in a way that just made her want to throw herself at him, and gave her that funny, tingly feeling. She could almost kill him for looking at her that way - it almost made her forget what she was supposed to be angry about. "Cordy, I'm sorry. I'll pay for the carpet to be replaced..."
"No, no... really, it's all right. A few rugs, no-one'll ever know! It'll look very exotic."
"If you're sure..." she nodded. "Right, well... I'd better shower." He wandered off towards the bathroom, leaving Cordy staring after him.
"Why don't you offer to give him a hand, love? I'm sure he wouldn't mind a back rub." Spike grinned suggestively, raising an eyebrow. She threw a nearby book at him - it was The Complete Guide to Modern Demonology, so it knocked him for six.
"Bloody hell, that hurt!" He yelled at her, vamping out.
"Ooh, I'm so scared, Spike. Whatcha gonna do, gum me to death?" His human visage back in place, he sat at the table, attempting his best Angel expression. "Aw, did I kick the poor little puppy. Anyway, I just have to get my nail varnish out of the bathroom." Spike gave her a strange look, but decided not to comment, or stop her. She marched off towards the bathroom, swung open the door...
Bright red, she slammed the door closed again, although she did it as quietly as possible, and walked back to the table. It took all of Spike's self control not to fall off his chair laughing.
"Um, I..." she banged her head repeatedly on the table, while Spike collapsed in fits of laughter at her expression. "You bastard. You couldn't have said, y'know, something?!"
"Got a short term memory, haven't we pet? Forget the git was in there, did you? Tell me, what did you see? I think he's got out of shape since last time I saw..." she was aware that Spike was still talking; she kept hearing parts of various obscene stories that he launched into. They were probably quite interesting, but she was having trouble focusing on anything other than the image burned into the back of her retina. For there in the shower, with his back to her, had been a very naked, very wet Angel. He was well muscled, and had the nicest... just thinking about it made her go weak at the knees. She hoped Spike couldn't tell how turned on she had been by the incident, but she just knew that he could, and it would give him further material to tease her over. Thank God Angel hadn't seen her. She would never be able to live it down. She was sure that he would have been angry and embarrassed; she just knew that he didn't feel the same as she did. For the hundredth time, she told herself to get over this stupid crush. Unfortunately, she wasn't sure that it wasn't turning into something more... She came to the conclusion that it would be a better idea to listen to Spike. It might take her mind off naked Angel.
"So there's Angelus, stark bollock naked, and I don't really need to describe much to you, but we both know that..." Cordelia started screaming inside her head. No, wait, that wasn't just her trying to block out Spike's story, it was... "Love? Pet, you alright?"
Spike was starting to get worried. When she started screaming, and holding onto her head, he jumped up, and supported her so that she didn't fall backwards off the stool. Cordelia's vision was the usual confusing yet painful picture show - blurry image after blurry image, until....
"Ugh! Aspirin... Dennis?" Dennis? Who was... Spike stared in amazement as a bottle of aspirin and a pad flew across the room. Without looking up, Cordelia added "My ghost. Spike, make yourself useful. Get me some water." By this point, Angel, having heard the screaming, had wrapped himself in a robe, and was standing next to her, still... dripping wet... Without looking at him, she said "Um, that Elfrach demon... well, it's really not dead. Looks like decapitation really is the only way to kill it. It's wreaking havoc at this address."
"Are you sure you're alright?" She made the mistake of looking up into his caring gaze, and blushing, nodded. Angel noted her glazed expression, but continued to stare into her eyes. This confirmed what the rush of cold air he had felt was while he was showering. He had known it was her anyway, but this proved that she was as affected as he was. He had turned the shower as cold as it would go when she had left. As it was, he had been on the verge of turning round and pulling her into the shower with him... he started to lower his head, and her eyes fluttered closed... their lips were just about to touch, when...
"So, we find it, start a-chopping, lots o' violence, buckets o' fun, more slime, thing dies?" Spike smirked evilly as he saw their eyes snap open in shock. They suddenly jumped away from each other, as if each one thought the other had an infectious disease. Sure, he'd said that he was going to help them, but at this point, the frustration was much, much funnier.
Angel cleared his throat. Cordelia was gazing avidly into the bottom of the glass of water, at the fizzing tablet. She found those easier to take after visions, he observed fondly. He always noticed little things like that. He also knew that she always felt dirty after receiving visions - probably because of all the slimy evil in the pictures - and showered afterwards. That did NOT mean that he was going to hang around and walk in on her in the shower. No. Although, it was tempting. Very tempting.
"Yeah, uh, Spike, this time you let me do the killing. You can watch my back." He started marching purposefully towards the door.
"Uh... mate?" Spike looked pointedly at him. "Unless this demon lives in some kind of spa, you might want to rethink the look." Angel looked down. Looking back up, he shot an embarrassed and pissed off look at Spike, and glanced at a smiling Cordelia, then walked back towards his room. Spike shrugged. "A bloke's got to be helpful. Although, it would have been funnier if I'd let him go like that. Bugger, why didn't I? Right proper Kodak moment, that would have been."
Cordelia giggled. She's just been accosted with the image Angel fighting the big evil dressed like that. After all, it wasn't entirely her fault that he'd been in such a rush that, instead of putting on his own bath robe (although, that still could be embarrassing - fighting demons in a dressing gown), he'd picked up her frilly, pink, silk Calvin Klein. Angel re-emerged from his room, wearing his usual black-on-black ensemble.
"Right. Let's go." He hurried past Cordy, who was trying to stifle her laughter. Spike followed him, grinning openly.
"Poofter."
"Oh, shut up."
* * *
"And more... much more than this... I did it my wayyy!"
Cordelia winced. She'd finally got sick of allowing Spike to lounge around on her sofa in his smelly, dirty state. After he and Angel had returned from fighting that gross demon, she told him that enough was enough, and he would have to get clean. So, she did what any other normal person would do under the circumstances; she grabbed him by the ear, and, twisting it, she had thrown him, fully clothed, into a running shower. After many filthy comments from Spike about how showers obviously really did for her, he had jumped out, pushed her under the spray, and trailed water all around her apartment. He'd finally come to the conclusion that locked in the bathroom, away from the wrath of a now soaking wet Cordelia, was a safer place to be. He hadn't stopped singing since.
She turned the page of her magazine, stopping to pick at the chipped varnish on her nail. Spike had only been living with her for a nearly a week, if you didn't count the unconsciousness, but she was already on the verge of killing him. Deep within her mind, a little voice reminded her that she would probably actually miss him, but she chose to ignore it. Sure, he was a good person to talk to, he had interesting stories to tell, and he could hold his own in a sarcasm match. She needed someone like that occasionally. God knew there were normally very few people around for her to talk to. She couldn't talk to Wesley, because he... well, he'd disappeared, for the minute. They knew he was alright, because he kept phoning with obscure references to different texts that he thought they could take a look at, but he was embroiled in his own personal research; she hated to think what that could be. Gunn was fun to have around, but you couldn't have a serious conversation with him. Kate was just a miserable, whiny little person who Cordelia had never liked, and Angel... she couldn't look him straight in the face any more.
She kept having these really explicit dreams about him, doing things that she knew they never could. After the thing with the shower, it was even worse than ever, since she didn't have to imagine him naked any more. Nope, she just had to shut her eyes, and the real thing was etched onto her eyelids. The reality was even better than her dreams. Also, he seemed to have been avoiding her recently. She didn't know why - maybe he'd worked out that she wanted him, and was repulsed, or embarrassed - but it made her really depressed. That was another thing that she liked about Spike - he didn't allow depression. In other people, anyway. In his book, it was one of the deadly sins. And since he had no morals, there were very few sins that you could commit in his eyes, but that was one. The others were having low alcohol and nicotine levels in your blood. Liking anyone in Sunnydale was frowned upon as well. He had decided that he wasn't going back there, and as soon as Angel had the hotel back, all nicely decorated, he was moving in. Angel pretended to be horrified (although, maybe it wasn't completely pretense), but secretly he was glad he wouldn't be totally alone there all the time any more. His loneliness was part of what had caused the Darla debacle. If he'd allowed himself to get closer to Cordy and Wesley, and told them about her immediately, it might never have happened. As Spike had never really liked Darla (she'd thought he was an idiot; an assumption sometimes Angel thought wasn't all wrong), he had sworn that if she came crawling back , he would stake her without letting Angel know she had even been there. Spike had heard the full story from both of them, and hated Darla even more because of it. He got on really well with Cordy, and hated that anyone would hurt his new-found friend that much.
Cordy looked up from her magazine as there was a huge crash from the door hitting the wall, and a waft of warm, soapy air coming down the corridor.
"That was refreshing. But, pet, I think you should talk to the manager. I wasn't in there very long, and the water started running cold." Cordelia fixed him with an icy gaze as he stood there, in a fluffy robe she had made him borrow from Angel (which also resulted in comments about 'the magnificent wanker's cross-dressing tendencies' - Spike was apparently worried it was contagious), rubbing at his peroxided locks with her softest, nicest towel. Her eyes narrowed as she caught a whiff of what she was sure was that expensive soap she only kept for really special occasions.
"You were in there for three quarters of an hour. It is not possible to buy a hot water tank that would last that long!" He arched an eyebrow at her, and kept studying his finger nails.
"Eh. Well, I've showered for longer than that, and still had enough water by the end. Faulty boiler, must be. Got any black varnish?"
"What? Oh..." she realised that he meant for his nails, "no. You've mooched off of me enough, you are definitely not using my nail varnish as well. And, by the way, black varnish on men is so last decade. And while we're on the subject of your horrible, horrible fashion sense, you need a new look."
"But, love... wait a mo, can we use Angel's credit cards?" He had a mischievous look on his face.
Cordy sighed. "I would say absolutely, but since my last excursion, he keeps them on him at all times." She had gone just a little crazy with his cards in a Grachiavogel boutique. The look on his face had been priceless when he got the statements (she had claimed that the clothes came under 'necessary and unavoidable expenses', to which he replied "because you'll be wearing a backless ball gown around the office." Well, maybe not.), but he practically had padlocks on his wallet now.
Spike started to smile. He walked back into the bathroom, where he had left his clothes. A couple of minutes later, he walked back, fully dressed, reaching into the pockets of the trenchcoat. Triumphantly, he held up his hand. Fanned out in his grasp, as a poker player would fan out his playing cards, Spike had...
"Oh my God, I think that's every card that Angel owns! How did you..."
"Living in London as long as we did, you pick up a few things from the pick-pockets. Including their wallets, if you were as good as I was." Cordy looked a little sceptical. "Well, I was." She still looked cynical. Spike sighed an unnecessary sigh. "Also, the huge wanker left his coat lying around. Kind of takes the danger out, but still...." he waved the cards at her.
"Ooh, I don't know..." she couldn't, she couldn't, she wouldn't... "oh, come on, let's go! But when he finds out, it's all you." She ran by the kitchen table, grabbing his keys. "Sure he won't mind me borrowing the car." Thank God for late night shopping, thought Spike, or she'd probably have dragged me into the sunlight in her excitement. They were also both wondering (and in Spike's case, not caring) where Angel was...
* * *
"Hello Angel. I'm sure you're wondering why I called you here today." Wesley looked pleased with himself. "You know, I've always wanted to say that."
"Yeah, uh, well done. So...?" Angel looked around Wesley's apartment. There was no surface left uncovered by books. "Why have you called me here?"
"Oh! Right." Wesley pushed his glasses back as they threatened to fall off his face altogether. "Well, I've been doing some research of my own. Actually, when I say research, I mean something more akin to begging every person I've ever met who has any knowledge of anything to help me; and believe me, as a cultured person that is quite a few..."
"Wesley. Please? I've left Spike alone with Cordelia. God knows what they might get up to." Angel smiled. The two had become quite a pair. Only the other day he'd had to give Spike a dressing down. He'd walked in to hear Spike teaching Cordy some fairly colourful English slang. He only heard the definition of 'wanker', but didn't want to know what else Spike had taught her. Hopefully, he hadn't got too far; 'wanker' was pretty basic for him. Although, she had called him a berk the other day; he wasn't even sure how to take that one. When Cordy had said that Spike was a 'top geezer', he'd had enough. They just found it amusing to torment him.
"Right. Well, I've been trying to contact..." Wesley paused for dramatic impact, "the Powers that Be". Angel just gestured for him to go on. "You see, I thought that it might be useful if we could talk to them, find out more about your destiny. Well, uh, I wasn't really successful." Angel didn't look surprised. "But, I did find out something else along the way. It concerns..." he paused again for proper impact, "your soul." Ah, that was better, now he had Angel on tenterhooks. Hah.
To be continued... (I'm sorry, it was too tempting.)
"Slime, Water and General Confusion"
______________________________________________________________
"Well, that was fun!" Spike bounced through the front door, followed by a very tired and irritated looking Angel. Both men were absolutely, covered, from head to toe, with slime and entrails. In fact, there was actually something slithering down Spike's coat to the floor, leaving a silver trail running down the leather. He stepped on it, just to check it was dead, and there was a horrible crunching sound. Cordelia just knew that the stuff would seep down between the tiles of the entrance hall, leaving a foul smell for her to remember it by.
"Spike. I have never seen anything so disgusting in my life. You are aware that it is possible to kill things quickly, which generally means less dry cleaning required?"
"Well, yeah. But how enjoyable would that be?" Angel walked past Spike, and turned to Cordelia, who was looking horrified at the amount of muck that was being traipsed through her apartment. Angel was being careful, but Spike really didn't seem to care.
"My boy here likes to play with his victims. He decided to get his violence fix by beating the Elfrach demon to a pulp, before managing to set fire to it with his lighter. And a tank of lighter fluid. Where did you get that from again?" Spike looked sheepish, then got defensive.
"How the hell was I supposed to know that decapitation kills an Elfrach? Fire makes them implode," he added as an aside. Cordelia nodded.
"So THAT's why you guys look like you're auditioning for parts as extras in a B rate horror movie. What is it, 'Mutant Slime: When Gunge Fights Back'?" She rolled her eyes when Angel looked confused at any kind of pop culture allusion, while Spike tried to start to comment. "Whatever. At this point, all I'm aware of is the fact that I'm going to have to start telling people that my carpet is supposed to be avocado green."
Angel looked at her apologetically, in a way that just made her want to throw herself at him, and gave her that funny, tingly feeling. She could almost kill him for looking at her that way - it almost made her forget what she was supposed to be angry about. "Cordy, I'm sorry. I'll pay for the carpet to be replaced..."
"No, no... really, it's all right. A few rugs, no-one'll ever know! It'll look very exotic."
"If you're sure..." she nodded. "Right, well... I'd better shower." He wandered off towards the bathroom, leaving Cordy staring after him.
"Why don't you offer to give him a hand, love? I'm sure he wouldn't mind a back rub." Spike grinned suggestively, raising an eyebrow. She threw a nearby book at him - it was The Complete Guide to Modern Demonology, so it knocked him for six.
"Bloody hell, that hurt!" He yelled at her, vamping out.
"Ooh, I'm so scared, Spike. Whatcha gonna do, gum me to death?" His human visage back in place, he sat at the table, attempting his best Angel expression. "Aw, did I kick the poor little puppy. Anyway, I just have to get my nail varnish out of the bathroom." Spike gave her a strange look, but decided not to comment, or stop her. She marched off towards the bathroom, swung open the door...
Bright red, she slammed the door closed again, although she did it as quietly as possible, and walked back to the table. It took all of Spike's self control not to fall off his chair laughing.
"Um, I..." she banged her head repeatedly on the table, while Spike collapsed in fits of laughter at her expression. "You bastard. You couldn't have said, y'know, something?!"
"Got a short term memory, haven't we pet? Forget the git was in there, did you? Tell me, what did you see? I think he's got out of shape since last time I saw..." she was aware that Spike was still talking; she kept hearing parts of various obscene stories that he launched into. They were probably quite interesting, but she was having trouble focusing on anything other than the image burned into the back of her retina. For there in the shower, with his back to her, had been a very naked, very wet Angel. He was well muscled, and had the nicest... just thinking about it made her go weak at the knees. She hoped Spike couldn't tell how turned on she had been by the incident, but she just knew that he could, and it would give him further material to tease her over. Thank God Angel hadn't seen her. She would never be able to live it down. She was sure that he would have been angry and embarrassed; she just knew that he didn't feel the same as she did. For the hundredth time, she told herself to get over this stupid crush. Unfortunately, she wasn't sure that it wasn't turning into something more... She came to the conclusion that it would be a better idea to listen to Spike. It might take her mind off naked Angel.
"So there's Angelus, stark bollock naked, and I don't really need to describe much to you, but we both know that..." Cordelia started screaming inside her head. No, wait, that wasn't just her trying to block out Spike's story, it was... "Love? Pet, you alright?"
Spike was starting to get worried. When she started screaming, and holding onto her head, he jumped up, and supported her so that she didn't fall backwards off the stool. Cordelia's vision was the usual confusing yet painful picture show - blurry image after blurry image, until....
"Ugh! Aspirin... Dennis?" Dennis? Who was... Spike stared in amazement as a bottle of aspirin and a pad flew across the room. Without looking up, Cordelia added "My ghost. Spike, make yourself useful. Get me some water." By this point, Angel, having heard the screaming, had wrapped himself in a robe, and was standing next to her, still... dripping wet... Without looking at him, she said "Um, that Elfrach demon... well, it's really not dead. Looks like decapitation really is the only way to kill it. It's wreaking havoc at this address."
"Are you sure you're alright?" She made the mistake of looking up into his caring gaze, and blushing, nodded. Angel noted her glazed expression, but continued to stare into her eyes. This confirmed what the rush of cold air he had felt was while he was showering. He had known it was her anyway, but this proved that she was as affected as he was. He had turned the shower as cold as it would go when she had left. As it was, he had been on the verge of turning round and pulling her into the shower with him... he started to lower his head, and her eyes fluttered closed... their lips were just about to touch, when...
"So, we find it, start a-chopping, lots o' violence, buckets o' fun, more slime, thing dies?" Spike smirked evilly as he saw their eyes snap open in shock. They suddenly jumped away from each other, as if each one thought the other had an infectious disease. Sure, he'd said that he was going to help them, but at this point, the frustration was much, much funnier.
Angel cleared his throat. Cordelia was gazing avidly into the bottom of the glass of water, at the fizzing tablet. She found those easier to take after visions, he observed fondly. He always noticed little things like that. He also knew that she always felt dirty after receiving visions - probably because of all the slimy evil in the pictures - and showered afterwards. That did NOT mean that he was going to hang around and walk in on her in the shower. No. Although, it was tempting. Very tempting.
"Yeah, uh, Spike, this time you let me do the killing. You can watch my back." He started marching purposefully towards the door.
"Uh... mate?" Spike looked pointedly at him. "Unless this demon lives in some kind of spa, you might want to rethink the look." Angel looked down. Looking back up, he shot an embarrassed and pissed off look at Spike, and glanced at a smiling Cordelia, then walked back towards his room. Spike shrugged. "A bloke's got to be helpful. Although, it would have been funnier if I'd let him go like that. Bugger, why didn't I? Right proper Kodak moment, that would have been."
Cordelia giggled. She's just been accosted with the image Angel fighting the big evil dressed like that. After all, it wasn't entirely her fault that he'd been in such a rush that, instead of putting on his own bath robe (although, that still could be embarrassing - fighting demons in a dressing gown), he'd picked up her frilly, pink, silk Calvin Klein. Angel re-emerged from his room, wearing his usual black-on-black ensemble.
"Right. Let's go." He hurried past Cordy, who was trying to stifle her laughter. Spike followed him, grinning openly.
"Poofter."
"Oh, shut up."
* * *
"And more... much more than this... I did it my wayyy!"
Cordelia winced. She'd finally got sick of allowing Spike to lounge around on her sofa in his smelly, dirty state. After he and Angel had returned from fighting that gross demon, she told him that enough was enough, and he would have to get clean. So, she did what any other normal person would do under the circumstances; she grabbed him by the ear, and, twisting it, she had thrown him, fully clothed, into a running shower. After many filthy comments from Spike about how showers obviously really did for her, he had jumped out, pushed her under the spray, and trailed water all around her apartment. He'd finally come to the conclusion that locked in the bathroom, away from the wrath of a now soaking wet Cordelia, was a safer place to be. He hadn't stopped singing since.
She turned the page of her magazine, stopping to pick at the chipped varnish on her nail. Spike had only been living with her for a nearly a week, if you didn't count the unconsciousness, but she was already on the verge of killing him. Deep within her mind, a little voice reminded her that she would probably actually miss him, but she chose to ignore it. Sure, he was a good person to talk to, he had interesting stories to tell, and he could hold his own in a sarcasm match. She needed someone like that occasionally. God knew there were normally very few people around for her to talk to. She couldn't talk to Wesley, because he... well, he'd disappeared, for the minute. They knew he was alright, because he kept phoning with obscure references to different texts that he thought they could take a look at, but he was embroiled in his own personal research; she hated to think what that could be. Gunn was fun to have around, but you couldn't have a serious conversation with him. Kate was just a miserable, whiny little person who Cordelia had never liked, and Angel... she couldn't look him straight in the face any more.
She kept having these really explicit dreams about him, doing things that she knew they never could. After the thing with the shower, it was even worse than ever, since she didn't have to imagine him naked any more. Nope, she just had to shut her eyes, and the real thing was etched onto her eyelids. The reality was even better than her dreams. Also, he seemed to have been avoiding her recently. She didn't know why - maybe he'd worked out that she wanted him, and was repulsed, or embarrassed - but it made her really depressed. That was another thing that she liked about Spike - he didn't allow depression. In other people, anyway. In his book, it was one of the deadly sins. And since he had no morals, there were very few sins that you could commit in his eyes, but that was one. The others were having low alcohol and nicotine levels in your blood. Liking anyone in Sunnydale was frowned upon as well. He had decided that he wasn't going back there, and as soon as Angel had the hotel back, all nicely decorated, he was moving in. Angel pretended to be horrified (although, maybe it wasn't completely pretense), but secretly he was glad he wouldn't be totally alone there all the time any more. His loneliness was part of what had caused the Darla debacle. If he'd allowed himself to get closer to Cordy and Wesley, and told them about her immediately, it might never have happened. As Spike had never really liked Darla (she'd thought he was an idiot; an assumption sometimes Angel thought wasn't all wrong), he had sworn that if she came crawling back , he would stake her without letting Angel know she had even been there. Spike had heard the full story from both of them, and hated Darla even more because of it. He got on really well with Cordy, and hated that anyone would hurt his new-found friend that much.
Cordy looked up from her magazine as there was a huge crash from the door hitting the wall, and a waft of warm, soapy air coming down the corridor.
"That was refreshing. But, pet, I think you should talk to the manager. I wasn't in there very long, and the water started running cold." Cordelia fixed him with an icy gaze as he stood there, in a fluffy robe she had made him borrow from Angel (which also resulted in comments about 'the magnificent wanker's cross-dressing tendencies' - Spike was apparently worried it was contagious), rubbing at his peroxided locks with her softest, nicest towel. Her eyes narrowed as she caught a whiff of what she was sure was that expensive soap she only kept for really special occasions.
"You were in there for three quarters of an hour. It is not possible to buy a hot water tank that would last that long!" He arched an eyebrow at her, and kept studying his finger nails.
"Eh. Well, I've showered for longer than that, and still had enough water by the end. Faulty boiler, must be. Got any black varnish?"
"What? Oh..." she realised that he meant for his nails, "no. You've mooched off of me enough, you are definitely not using my nail varnish as well. And, by the way, black varnish on men is so last decade. And while we're on the subject of your horrible, horrible fashion sense, you need a new look."
"But, love... wait a mo, can we use Angel's credit cards?" He had a mischievous look on his face.
Cordy sighed. "I would say absolutely, but since my last excursion, he keeps them on him at all times." She had gone just a little crazy with his cards in a Grachiavogel boutique. The look on his face had been priceless when he got the statements (she had claimed that the clothes came under 'necessary and unavoidable expenses', to which he replied "because you'll be wearing a backless ball gown around the office." Well, maybe not.), but he practically had padlocks on his wallet now.
Spike started to smile. He walked back into the bathroom, where he had left his clothes. A couple of minutes later, he walked back, fully dressed, reaching into the pockets of the trenchcoat. Triumphantly, he held up his hand. Fanned out in his grasp, as a poker player would fan out his playing cards, Spike had...
"Oh my God, I think that's every card that Angel owns! How did you..."
"Living in London as long as we did, you pick up a few things from the pick-pockets. Including their wallets, if you were as good as I was." Cordy looked a little sceptical. "Well, I was." She still looked cynical. Spike sighed an unnecessary sigh. "Also, the huge wanker left his coat lying around. Kind of takes the danger out, but still...." he waved the cards at her.
"Ooh, I don't know..." she couldn't, she couldn't, she wouldn't... "oh, come on, let's go! But when he finds out, it's all you." She ran by the kitchen table, grabbing his keys. "Sure he won't mind me borrowing the car." Thank God for late night shopping, thought Spike, or she'd probably have dragged me into the sunlight in her excitement. They were also both wondering (and in Spike's case, not caring) where Angel was...
* * *
"Hello Angel. I'm sure you're wondering why I called you here today." Wesley looked pleased with himself. "You know, I've always wanted to say that."
"Yeah, uh, well done. So...?" Angel looked around Wesley's apartment. There was no surface left uncovered by books. "Why have you called me here?"
"Oh! Right." Wesley pushed his glasses back as they threatened to fall off his face altogether. "Well, I've been doing some research of my own. Actually, when I say research, I mean something more akin to begging every person I've ever met who has any knowledge of anything to help me; and believe me, as a cultured person that is quite a few..."
"Wesley. Please? I've left Spike alone with Cordelia. God knows what they might get up to." Angel smiled. The two had become quite a pair. Only the other day he'd had to give Spike a dressing down. He'd walked in to hear Spike teaching Cordy some fairly colourful English slang. He only heard the definition of 'wanker', but didn't want to know what else Spike had taught her. Hopefully, he hadn't got too far; 'wanker' was pretty basic for him. Although, she had called him a berk the other day; he wasn't even sure how to take that one. When Cordy had said that Spike was a 'top geezer', he'd had enough. They just found it amusing to torment him.
"Right. Well, I've been trying to contact..." Wesley paused for dramatic impact, "the Powers that Be". Angel just gestured for him to go on. "You see, I thought that it might be useful if we could talk to them, find out more about your destiny. Well, uh, I wasn't really successful." Angel didn't look surprised. "But, I did find out something else along the way. It concerns..." he paused again for proper impact, "your soul." Ah, that was better, now he had Angel on tenterhooks. Hah.
To be continued... (I'm sorry, it was too tempting.)