JUST HUMAN, Chapter 2: A Cup of Coffee with an Old Friend

Willow Rosenberg had never particularly liked L.A. Not that she hated it, no
not at all. But it had never been one of her favorite cities. She had no
idea why she couldn't help it. But if you had children there came the time
when Sunnydale wasn't big enough anymore. They wanted things they couldn't
get at home and so Willow and Tara had finally given in and taken their and
Buffy's children to L.A.

And there she was now, strolling along rows of shops, not really interested,
but glad nevertheless that Tara had taken the kids and given her an hour of
her own. Willow felt a little tired these days. The checkup with the doctor
had indicated nothing but at the age of 40, she mused, you were entitled to
feel tired from time to time. Especially if you took care not only of your
own children, but of Buffy's as well, one of them being a very stubborn,
very exhausting teenager with an attitude and a lot of anger stored inside.

Willow sighed at the thought of Buffy. She had been fine after Riley's death
and everyone had marveled how well she took it, but - as they knew now -
that had been nothing but the initial shock holding her up. As soon as it
had faded, Buffy had taken a turn to the worse. It had started with the
occasional drink in the afternoon and had developed to a real problem that
nobody seemed to know how to solve. Not Willow, not Xander, not Giles and
certainly not Buffy, who had disappeared somewhere on the way.

They tried to talk to her, make her see that it couldn't go on like that,
but she'd slipped more and more and in the end Willow and Xander had gone
and taken her children. They talked to a social worker before and she had
agreed that Buffy's children could stay with them - for the time being. What
would happen if Buffy couldn't manage to get back on track - Willow didn't
even want to think about it.

The redhead was so deep in thoughts that she only noticed the other person
when she bumped right into her. "Oh, sorry," she apologized startled.

"You should be sorry," came an annoyed voice back, "these are my favorite
Italian-" then the person gasped, "Willow? Oh my God. Willow!"

"C- Cordelia!" Willow was surprised to see the former cheerleader standing
right in front of her. "My God, Cordelia Chase. The last person I would
expect to run into. What are you doing in L.A.?"

"Shopping of course," Cordelia replied, smiling, "And living here. We moved
back to L.A. four weeks ago."

"We?" Willow raised an interested brow.

"Yes, Wesley and I," the brunette explained. She lifted her hand and showed
the redhead the gold band on her third finger, "He and I are married."

"Married!" Willow couldn't help the shocked sound of her voice. Cordelia and
Wesley were married. Oh my God!

"Yes, married," Cordelia grinned, "We've been married for nine years now."

"Nine Years!"

"Willow you should be careful. Someone might mistake you for a parrot," the
brunette teased. "But I can understand the surprise. To tell the truth, it
surprised the hell out of me too. I never would've expected to end up with
Wesley. Anyways. What are you doing? Do you have time for a cup of coffee?
We could sit down and talk about all the things we've missed."

Still a bit stunned, Willow nodded and only a minute later found herself
sitting opposite Cordelia and waiting for the coffee they had ordered. "I
think I need to digest the news," the redhead said when she saw Cordelia
looking at her expectantly. "You and Wesley," she shook her head, then
chuckled slightly. "But we should've guessed. You liked him from the start."

"I did, didn't I," the brunette replied affectionately, thinking about her
husband, "I really love him." Her whole face lit up when she said it.

Cordelia was still incredibly beautiful, Willow thought. Her skin still
flawless, and the hair shorter than usual but perfectly styled. "Do you have
kids?" the redhead asked.

"Yes," the brunette nodded, reaching into her purse, producing two pictures
that showed two obviously Asian kids. "This is Michael," she pointed at a
boy of about six years, "and this is Cathy. She's five. Michel's going to be
seven, next week. And what you already noticed is that they're adopted."
Putting the pictures away, she explained, "One year after we got married and
tried to have a baby I had a checkup and the doctor found out that I
couldn't have children. So we decided to adopt two. They come from Vietnam."

"I see," Willow smiled, seeing Cordelia suddenly in a new light. Not in a
million years she would've expected the former cheerleader to adopt Asian
orphans. "They look great," she complimented, and then reached into her own
pocket. "These are ours. Callie and Tiffany," she said. "They're nine."

Cordelia studied the pictures, then looked thoughtfully at Willow, "So I
suppose your... uh... relationship with... what was her name... Sarah? It
didn't last?"

"Oh, but it did," the redhead replied with a wistful smile, "We're still
happy together and her name's Tara."

"Oh, you adopted them as well," the brunette exclaimed, smiling too.

"No, we didn't. We were artificially inseminated. Both of us. Welcome to the
21st century, Cordelia," Willow said grinning at the other woman's
expression. "Tara and I are even married. Not the ordinary way, but through
a wiccan ceremony. It was great."

"And the others?" Cordelia asked, not really wanting to discuss the subject.
"How's Xander? And Buffy?"

At the mention of Buffy Willow's smile faded, "Xander's fine, she said. He's
still married to Anya. They have five children."

"Five!" Cordelia exclaimed incredulously. "Oh my God, Xander times five."

They laughed at that, then the redhead continued, "They're nice kids
actually. Two girls and three boys. The girls are twins. Giles is back in
Sunnydale. He was in England for a while but it seems he realized he lost
his roots there and so he came back. Now he's writing a book about demons
and stuff," she grinned, "he can't help it. It's in his blood, I think."

There was a short pause while the waitress served their coffees. Sipping at
her cup, Cordelia eyed Willow over the rim. "And Buffy? Still happy with
Riley?"

"Riley died."

The brunette was glad that the cup didn't slip from her hand. She was so
stunned by the news that she had problems to putting it down, her hands were
trembling so much. "When?" she asked, her voice sounding odd even to her
ears.

"Six months ago," Willow replied, wondering about Cordelia's reaction. "He
had Leukemia. He was dead within six days. It was... hard. Especially for
Buffy. And for her kids of course."

"Yeah," Cordelia nodded, glad that 40 years of life experience had taught
her not to show her feelings. "She had two, didn't she?"

"Three," the redhead corrected. "Joyce is 17, Ben is 10 and Marlie is just
five. They are... living with Tara and I at the moment," she added.

"With you?"

"Yeah," Willow said on a released breath, glad that she was able to talk
about this. "Buffy... she... well, she doesn't get along. She started
drinking. It's bad. Really, really bad. Finally we had to take the kids.
She... wasn't looking after them."

Cordelia's lower lip dropped, "What?"

The redhead nodded, "Oh Cordelia, it's horrible. We tried everything, but
Buffy blocks us out. She insists there isn't a problem. But you wouldn't
recognize her. It's... I can't even begin to describe it." Willow sipped at
her coffee and then she asked the question she had wanted to ask from the
moment she had recovered from the shock of seeing Cordelia Chase in L.A.
"How is... Angel?"

"He's fine," Cordelia replied quickly. Maybe a bit too quickly. "He's still
in Washington," she added, "We were there for 10 years. After the hellmouth
in Sunnydale was closed, the vampires moved away from L.A. and suddenly a
problem occurred in D.C. So we moved there. And it was good. Especially for
Angel."

She didn't elaborate on the last statement, but Willow understood
nevertheless. It had been hard for Angel to see Buffy happily married to
Riley, to watch them having children together. They hadn't seen each other
very often, and when they met Angel always managed to keep a blank
expression, the one he had brought to perfection in two hundred and a half
centuries, but nobody was fooled that he was hurting inside. "So that's where
you went to. We always wondered," Willow acknowledged.

And they had wondered. After the hellmouth in Sunnydale was closed, Angel
informed Giles that he would move the agency away. He hadn't said where and
Giles hadn't asked, sensing that the vampire didn't want to be found. "So
Angel's fine, huh?" Willow asked.

"He is," Cordelia confirmed. "We had a lot of work up there. But it was...
satisfying and it paid a whole lot better than it did in L.A. We made good
money in Washington. We even worked for the government from time to time."

The redhead nodded at that and in silence they drank their coffee for a
while, each of them digesting the news. It was the brunette who finally
broke the silence, "So Buffy's in pretty bad shape."

"No," Willow shook her head.

"But I thought-"

"Yes, yes," the redhead made a dismissive gesture, "I know what I said. And
yes, she is drinking and all. But besides that, physically, she couldn't be
better." Willow sighed, "Actually, if it wasn't for the drinking thing, I'd
envy her. She's in perfect condition. She's 40, but looks thirty. The doctor
says she's even got the body of a thirty year old. Giles thinks it has
something to do with her having been the slayer."

Cordelia absentmindedly rubbed her aching back, "Physically like 30, huh?"
she said, laughing slightly, "Well, that's a reason to be jealous."

"Oh, come on," Willow laughed too, "You don't look 40 either. Not at all.
You don't even have one gray hair."

The brunette's eyes sparkled at that, "I just have a good hairdresser,
Willow. You can't be honestly think that this," she ran a hand over her
hair, "is all nature."

"No, I suppose not," the redhead sighed.

"And it's not what I meant. On the outside I might look younger, but my back
aches, and my knees crack when I get up in the morning." Seeing Willow grin,
Cordelia nodded, "I see, you know what I'm talking about. So yeah, I would
give anything to be 30 again." Suddenly she remembered something, "Oh crap,"
she looked at her watch. "I almost forgot I have to meet Wesley. We wanted
to choose a bedroom today. Furniture, you know." She waved for the waitress
to pay the coffee, then reached into her purse again, "Here take my card.
Call me."

Willow nodded, "I will. And thanks for the coffee," she said when they both
stood up. "I'm living in my parents' old house and Buffy is living in an
apartment close to her mother's former house. She didn't want to live there
after Joyce and Dawn died."

"I see," Cordelia replied, a world of meaning in those two words.

"Yeah," the redhead nodded, "And tell Angel we miss him too."

A long look passed between the two women, "I will," the brunette said.

"Yes, do that," Willow retorted. "And don't wait too long."

"I won't," Cordelia promised and smiled. "I'm sure he'll be interested to
hear the news. He's got some of his own."

"He has?"

"Yes, but it's for him to tell you."

"So he'll come back too?"

"He might," Cordelia gave Willow another smile.

"I would be glad," the redhead replied, smiling too now.

"I'll tell him that. I really have to run now. See you later."

"Yes, see you too." But Willow was saying those words to herself. Cordelia
had already left. But maybe, she thought, she'd just found the answer for her
prayers.

****

Spike had made it a habit to drink a cup of coffee with Buffy once a month.
It had started shortly after the hellmouth had been closed and he seemed to
be the only vampire who didn't have the urge to leave the place since it
didn't hold any appeal for evil anymore.

Why he didn't want to leave, he didn't know. He was long over his
infatuation with the blond slayer, so that wasn't the reason. The watcher
had suggested it had something to do with Spike having been too close to
humanity for too long, that this had changed his evil nature into something
softer. Of course the vampire resented that theory and privately entertained
the thought that part of the fun was getting back at Riley who still hated
his guts and didn't like his wife having coffee with a hostile. Even more
the blond ex-commando hated the idea that his children could be fond of Spike.

So the vampire kept coming once a month. They talked about times when they
were still out all night, hunting and staking vampires and saving the world.
It was fun and Spike found himself looking forward to those monthly meetings
and strange as it might sound over the years they had developed some sort of
twisted friendship, the ex-slayer, saver of the world, the epitome of good,
and the evil, still chip-headed, vampire.

When Riley had become ill and died within a week, Spike had expected to
welcome the news. He had never liked Riley, never understood what the slayer
found in the loser, but had wisely kept his mouth shut. And even if he
didn't understand it, the slayer seemed not unhappy with the ex-commando who
had become a successful psychiatrist in Sunnydale.

So Spike had expected to be happy seeing his most hated person gone for
good, but somehow he didn't. And he knew the reason for his lack of joy was
Buffy and the kids who had managed to get to him. Especially the little one
he found himself drawn to. Marlie was a little doll with her blond locks and
her curious hazel eyes. Maybe it was her resemblance to her mother, Spike
found so intriguing.

Ben was always a bit distant to him and Spike suspected it was due to the
fact that the boy was a little bit jealous of the time Buffy spent with the
vampire. Joyce on the other hand was outright hostile. He wasn't sure why,
but he guessed it had something to do with Riley. She had already been seven
years old when the hellmouth was closed for good and most likely the most
sensible to the hostility between her father and Spike. As a result she had
taken an instant dislike towards the vampire.

"You know," Buffy was saying beside him, "if you were coming to say nothing
the whole evening, you should've just stayed away."

"Well, what do you want me to say, pet?" he asked, glancing at the glass of
Brandy she had refilled yet another time, while he was sipping at his
coffee.

"Something, anything," she replied, her voice already slightly slurred.

"Okay, then," he pushed himself off and stood, then walked over to the
window. Slowly he turned and looked into her eyes, "I want to know what
you're trying to do here?"

"What the hell do you mean?" she asked, a certain edge in her voice. She
held his eyes for a moment, then lowered her lashes and reached for her
glass.

"That," he replied and pointed at the liquor. "If you want my opinion, it's
just pathetic."

"Oh, great, now I have two telling me the same nonsense," she muttered and
took a large gulp. "Yeah, well," she said out loud, "If I wanted your
opinion, wonderful-one-without-faults, I'd ask. I can clearly remember a
very drunken vampire who was pathetically whining for Dru when she left him.
Besides, I'm not drunk. I just need a bit of help to get into a good mood."

"Happens a lot these days, from why I hear," Spike retorted, crossing his
arms in front of his chest. "Has this something to do with the fact that you
tried to get back to your precious husband by hopping into the sack with me?
Feeling guilty after all those years?"

That finally penetrated the wall he had felt she'd been building the whole
afternoon. Her head came up with a jerk, her eyes narrowed and her eyes
glittered dangerously through the slits, "Watch it, chip-boy," she hissed.

"Oh, I'm shivering with fear," he mocked, "You're human, Slayer. You can hit
me if you want, but I doubt it'll hurt a lot."

"I didn't 'hop' in the sack with you, as you called it." She spoke very
slowly, her voice low and warning.

"But you wanted to. Don't tell me you didn't want to have some excitement
that night. Do you feel guilty for it now? You, the mother of two
children by then, married to Riley, the good guy, and you had to urge to
jump the bones of an evil vamp."

A low sound escaped her mouth and she stood abruptly. Swaying slightly
because of the amount of alcohol she'd already taken in, she turned away
from him. Why did he have to do that, she wondered? Why did he have to come
and remind her of her one lapse in judgment? Of course, she didn't need to
ask herself. Friend or not, he was still an evil vampire. "No I didn't even
want to," she said in the same slow manner, "It just... happened."

"Oh yeah? Baby, you were so hot, we would've done it hadn't Red walked in on
us. There would've been no stopping us. Certainly not from you."

"You're disgusting," Buffy replied, turning around to face him again.
"Disgusting and evil."

He shrugged, "Sure, I'm evil. No news here. Besides, calling me evil is
hardly insulting. It's a compliment these days. The watcher thinks I'm a
softie. Now that's insulting for a vampire."

"Good to know," she murmured.

"Slayer, you have to stop that," he said again, returning to their first
subject.

"I'm not a slayer anymore," she said angrily. "You just said it yourself, I
couldn't hurt you, even if I wanted."

"Self-pity, is it?" he asked, uncrossing his arms and walking towards her.
"Well, I'm going to call you Slayer as long as I like. You were the best.
The only one I ever respected. Snap out of it. It can't go on like this."

"And why not?" she shot back. "Because you say so?"

"No, because you can't. Look at yourself. You look like shit. And you
smell... When did you last wash your hair?"

"None of your business," she snapped.

"Just as well," he snapped back. "I'm not going to look at this mess any
longer. Again, Slayer, snap out of it."

He walked through the door and slammed it behind her, avoiding a glass she'd
thrown his way. He left the apartment with a heavy heart and the feeling
that he had no idea what he could do to help her. As much he hated to admit
this to himself, there was probably only one person that would be able to
help, but he didn't have the slightest idea where to find him.

... to be continued