TITLE: Viva Las Vegas
SPOILERS: This is an alternate take on what might have happened pre-Epiphany. I started writing it during the whole Beige Angel arc, so it differs quite a bit from the end of the season.
DISCLAIMERS: Joss owns all, I own nothing! I'm just borrowing them for a teensy bit.
Fortunately the vision was a short one. It was over in a matter of seconds, and the accompanying nausea-inducing, mind-breaking migraine wasn't as debilitating as it could have been.
"That was a short one," I muttered, relaxing in the arms still holding me upright. "And relatively clear. I'm pretty sure I know where to find this girl."
"Girl? Clear?" The voice was confused. And the accent was Cockney. And it was *not* Angel's. I turned around, only to find myself looking into calm blue eyes.
Again, *not* Angel's.
"Jack!" I said, pushing my hair out of my eyes. "What are you... how did I get here?"
"That would be me, Princess." I winced a little at his use of Doyle's pet name for me. It had been a long time since I'd heard it. "You put the tray down, looked a little funny... then you started going down. I grabbed you, got Harrison to take my table, and brought you back here."
I pushed myself away a little, freeing myself from his arms. He let me go, but kept a hand on my elbow, I guess to make sure I was steady on my feet. My surroundings were unfamiliar. It looked like one of the high roller lounges, but there was no one else there. And since the high roller lounges were usually pretty full, I used my well-honed powers of deduction to decide this wasn't one of them.
"Where are we?"
Jack grinned at me, and I felt the first stirrings of uneasiness. We were all alone, and I didn't know where we were, and although the vision hadn't been as bad as it could have been, I was still a little shaky.
"Someplace private." He didn't move, but I found myself taking a step back. "One of the lounges that's undergoing a little facelift." After he said it, I noticed some paint cans and tarps piled in one corner. "I wasn't sure what was going on, but I didn't figure you wanted to pass out in front of the payin' customers."
"Thanks." I smiled weakly at him. "I'm feeling a lot better now. And I better get back to work, or Sam's going to dock me. I'm working high rollers tonight, and I can't afford to be gone long."
"You sure, Princess? No offense, but you're not exactly lookin' your best." He cocked an eyebrow at me, still grinning, and I tried to tell myself he was just trying to be helpful. "What'd you do, skip a meal or three?" It wasn't uncommon for the cocktail waitresses to go without meals. The uniforms were pretty unforgiving in terms of weight, and any extra pounds were not only visible but made breathing a privilege. I'd heard rumors from the other girls about weigh-ins, but I'd never seen one myself.
"Yeah, a couple." I shrugged a little. "You know how it goes. I ate out night before last, and I've been trying to make up for it."
"Out with the high roller? He seems more than a little interested in you." I cursed Angel silently. I knew that people would notice when he played big brother. Especially when he played big brother with a thing for scaring off anyone who came within 10 feet of me. Not exactly Mr. Unobtrusive.
"I've been out with him a couple of times." I shrugged again, trying for a casual tone. "Can't turn down a free meal. Even if you do have to skip a few afterwards." I knew that was the attitude most of the girls would take. Hopefully Jack would buy it.
"Course you couldn't, Princess. What working girl would?" He smirked a little when I raised an eyebrow. "And by working, I mean just that. Working. So no need to get on your high horse." He back up a step, looking me over. "Even with those oh so lovely legs of yours."
"Funny," I said shortly. "Look, I've really got to get back to work. You gonna show me how to get out of here or not?"
+ + + + + +
"Problem, Mr. Angel?" The pit boss approached me, a shit-eating grin on his face. I sighed inwardly, trying to tell myself that Cordelia was all right, and that I shouldn't blow the case looking for her.
But it was hard. She was gone, hadn't been seen by Wes or Gunn or me in over half an hour now, and I wanted to tear the place apart until I found her. Screw my cover. She was more important.
"Actually, I was looking for..." And that was when she reappeared. Her hair was mussed, disheveled, and that smarmy Cockney bastard was following her.
They'd apparently been together.
Alone.
For half an hour.
The pit boss coughed delicately. "Looking for...?"
"Just looking." I turned to face him again, one eyebrow raised. "Is there something wrong with that?"
"Of course not, Mr. Angel. If you want to look around, that's certainly okay. Would you like a guide? I'd be more than happy to act as..."
"No. That's.. that's not necessary. I really just want a chance to wander around the place by myself. See what the average customer sees." Inwardly, I thanked David Nabbitt for staking this operation. Under the guise of a so-called "high roller", I'd been given pretty much free rein of the place. And I had enough money to throw around to back up the cover.
Which lead to a lot of toadying by the locals. I used that to my advantage on occasion. This was definitely one of those occasions.
"Is there a problem with that?"
"Of course not. That's quite alright. Not an uncommon request from our most special clients. I'll just.. leave you to it then, shall I? But if there's anything.. anything at all.. you need, please don't hesitate to contact me or anyone else in our establishment. We're here to cater to your every need."
"Thanks. I'll keep that in mind." I glanced over to where Cordelia was making her way through the tables, an empty tray in her hand. She'd managed to find it again and serve all the drinks, so that meant she'd be heading back for the bar again. She'd take about 3-4 minutes to refill the tray before heading out to the tables once more, so if I wanted to catch her, I needed to do it now.
Not that I was keeping track of her or anything. Not anymore than Wes or Gunn anyway. I mean, we were a team, a family, and I was interested in every member of... Thinking of Wes and Gunn, I realized I hadn't seen them in some time.
But right now my first priority was the brunette in the short skirt. The very short skirt. As I followed her back towards the bar, I took a good long look at her. She'd done more than her fair share of complaining about the uniform, but it certainly looked damn good on her.
And when had she gotten those legs? The ones that went all the way up to... I shook my head. Now wasn't the time for contemplating Cordelia's charms.
That could come later.
I finally caught up to her just before she reached the bar. I grasped her elbow and pulled her behind a bank of video slot machines.
"Angel," she hissed, turning to face me. "Good thing you showed up. I had a vision, and.."
"And what.. you couldn't wait to find me or one of the guys?"
"Wait?" She looked a little confused. "I didn't *wait* on anyone. Not like the visions keep to a regular schedule, you know. It just hit, and I..."
"Just what? Let that smarmy British bastard put his hands on you?"
She looked at me, totally mystified. "Angel, what is your damage? Vision hit with accompanying disorientation and/or dizziness, and Jack helped me out. That's.. that's all."
+ + + + + +
I didn't tell Angel the whole story. What was there to tell? That I'd gotten a weird vibe from Jack? That he didn't actually say or do anything threatening, but I'd felt threatened anyway? If I wanted to be taken seriously.. and I did, most definitely.. I had to have something a little more certain than a "weird vibe" to go on. So I glossed over my encounter with Jack and sent Angel after the girl in the vision. There was a little demonic mugging about to take place just outside the casino, and he was more than capable of handling it by himself.
I couldn't be sure that he'd completely bought into the 'Jack just helped me out' story. He knew me well enough by now to tell when I wasn't telling the whole truth, and I'm pretty sure he sensed there was more than I was telling. But he didn't press me on it - thank God - and finally I got back to work.
But I was aware of eyes following me around that night while I finished out my shift. Angel, of course. He'd been watching me since we got here, and I was used to that. But Jack's gaze fell on me more than once, and so did the high roller who'd originally asked about me. And while I did look pretty good in the uniform, and I knew the high heels did good things for my legs (in terms of looks - the things caused shin splints and blisters like you wouldn't believe), I didn't think it was my charms that were responsible.
Whatever the case, I was pretty thankful when my shift ended. I made my way 'backstage' and to the ladies lounge, opened my locker with a weary sigh. And there, sitting on top of my street clothes and sneakers was a note. I looked around the empty lounge before I pulled it out and opened it.
Cordelia,
I really enjoyed our meal the other night, and was
hoping to do it again. Would you care to meet me
near the entrance of the Blue Lounge around 2 am?
Angel
I didn't have to be Sherlock Holmes to know the note was a fake. Not only was it not in Angel's handwriting, we hadn't actually had dinner together. And since I'd only told one person the fake story, it was pretty easy to figure out who sent it. Was Jack the one? Was he responsible for all the disappearances?
Making my way back to the employee area that joined the men's and women's lounges, I was lucky enough to find Wes waiting. I usually met him and Gunn there when our shifts ended. We were sharing a small aparment a couple miles away, and cab fare was outrageous in Vegas.
"Check this out," I said, handing him the note. "It's a fake."
"Obviously," said Wesley, taking a moment to read it. "But we shall have to follow up on it. I'll find Gunn and Angel, let them know what's happening. You can't be seen outside the lounge until it's time to make this appointment."
"No problem," I said, "Just don't be late."
"Be careful, Cordelia." Wesley peered at me through his glasses, concern for me etched on his face. I smiled reassuringly.
"No worries there, Wes. Not looking to be a hero today."
* * * * * *
"You what?" I knew my voice was a little loud, but I couldn't believe what I was hearing. "You told her she could go meet this creep?"
"Angel, please stay calm. I've already told Gunn, and he's waiting near the lounge in question. She's perfectly safe, and..."
I didn't wait to hear anymore. I hurried to the lounge, cursing Wesley and Gunn.. and Cordelia herself.. all the way. How dare they put her in that kind of danger? How dare she allow herself..? If anything happened to her, heads were gonna roll.
Only, not literally. Although they could. If I wanted them to.
But as I rounded the last set of slot machines, I could see Gunn and Cordelia standing there. Gunn had his arms crossed, and Cordelia was waggling her finger in some guy's face. The man, an older man, shorter than her by a good 6 inches, was backing away, and she was following him step by step. He finally turned and hurried away, nearly running me down in the process When I looked back at the others, they were both laughing uncontrollably. Slowing to a walk, I made my way to where they were standing.
"False alarm," gurgled Cordelia. "It was just old man Henderson."
"Just old man Henderson?" I kept my voice calm, not without effort.
"Dirty old man, makes moves on the girls all the time." Gunn, still smiling, looked past me, I assume to where the man was still hurrying away. "He's a high roller so the bigwigs keep it on the down low. He's basically harmless."
"Basically.. he's... you think.. *harmless*?..."
Cordelia interrupted before I could get any more incoherent. "He overheard me talking to Jack. I had to tell him you took me out." She gave me a Look. "Had to say something to explain Mr. Master of Subtlety and his let's-scare-everyone-away-from-Cordy act."
I opened my mouth to respond, then closed it again. She was right. I knew it, Wes and Gunn knew it, and of course she knew it. But that didn't mean I had to admit it.
"If your shift's over, you guys should go home. Get some rest." I looked at the others first, then fixed my gaze on Cordelia. She'd recovered from the vision, mostly, but she still looked a little pale. I knew Wesley would make sure she was okay, but I still didn't like not being there myself. "I'm going to make a few more rounds then call it a night myself."
"We're not getting anywhere with this." Her voice was soft, troubled, "We haven't seen a sign of anything more ominous than dirty old men and the occasional card counter."
"Don't worry about it anymore tonight." I relaxed a little, aware that some small part of me buried deep inside was glad there hadn't been anything overtly suspicious. I didn't want her in danger--didn't want any of them in danger, I corrected myself silently. "Let's meet tomorrow afternoon, put our heads together and see what we've got."
"Fine," said Cordelia, pulling her bag up and over one shoulder. "But it won't take long to talk about the big nothing we've accomplished so far."
After making arrangements to meet at an inconspicous diner the following day, the other three turned to leave. I watched them, somehow warmed just by the sight of them. It had been a long year, a hard year, and through my own stupidity I'd almost thrown away the best thing that had ever happened to me. I'd never had a family, not really. Darla, Spike, and Dru had been the closest thing to it, and warped and twisted didn't even cover my time with them. Buffy... Buffy had been special, but I'd always been on the fringes of the crowd in Sunnydale, a part of things only because of my association with her. This was different. *They* were different.
And if my eyes lingered a little longer on the slim brunette in the middle... well, that was only because I'd known her longer. Known her better. At least, that's what I tried very hard to convince myself as I turned back to the casino.
But when I finally got back to my suite a good hour later, it took only a few words from a harried phone call for that line of thought to fly right out the window.
It was ringing when I opened the door, and I hurried to answer it. "Angel, where have you been?" Wesley's voice was clipped, and I felt my unbeating heart sink right down to my toes. "We've got a serious problem."
SPOILERS: This is an alternate take on what might have happened pre-Epiphany. I started writing it during the whole Beige Angel arc, so it differs quite a bit from the end of the season.
DISCLAIMERS: Joss owns all, I own nothing! I'm just borrowing them for a teensy bit.
Fortunately the vision was a short one. It was over in a matter of seconds, and the accompanying nausea-inducing, mind-breaking migraine wasn't as debilitating as it could have been.
"That was a short one," I muttered, relaxing in the arms still holding me upright. "And relatively clear. I'm pretty sure I know where to find this girl."
"Girl? Clear?" The voice was confused. And the accent was Cockney. And it was *not* Angel's. I turned around, only to find myself looking into calm blue eyes.
Again, *not* Angel's.
"Jack!" I said, pushing my hair out of my eyes. "What are you... how did I get here?"
"That would be me, Princess." I winced a little at his use of Doyle's pet name for me. It had been a long time since I'd heard it. "You put the tray down, looked a little funny... then you started going down. I grabbed you, got Harrison to take my table, and brought you back here."
I pushed myself away a little, freeing myself from his arms. He let me go, but kept a hand on my elbow, I guess to make sure I was steady on my feet. My surroundings were unfamiliar. It looked like one of the high roller lounges, but there was no one else there. And since the high roller lounges were usually pretty full, I used my well-honed powers of deduction to decide this wasn't one of them.
"Where are we?"
Jack grinned at me, and I felt the first stirrings of uneasiness. We were all alone, and I didn't know where we were, and although the vision hadn't been as bad as it could have been, I was still a little shaky.
"Someplace private." He didn't move, but I found myself taking a step back. "One of the lounges that's undergoing a little facelift." After he said it, I noticed some paint cans and tarps piled in one corner. "I wasn't sure what was going on, but I didn't figure you wanted to pass out in front of the payin' customers."
"Thanks." I smiled weakly at him. "I'm feeling a lot better now. And I better get back to work, or Sam's going to dock me. I'm working high rollers tonight, and I can't afford to be gone long."
"You sure, Princess? No offense, but you're not exactly lookin' your best." He cocked an eyebrow at me, still grinning, and I tried to tell myself he was just trying to be helpful. "What'd you do, skip a meal or three?" It wasn't uncommon for the cocktail waitresses to go without meals. The uniforms were pretty unforgiving in terms of weight, and any extra pounds were not only visible but made breathing a privilege. I'd heard rumors from the other girls about weigh-ins, but I'd never seen one myself.
"Yeah, a couple." I shrugged a little. "You know how it goes. I ate out night before last, and I've been trying to make up for it."
"Out with the high roller? He seems more than a little interested in you." I cursed Angel silently. I knew that people would notice when he played big brother. Especially when he played big brother with a thing for scaring off anyone who came within 10 feet of me. Not exactly Mr. Unobtrusive.
"I've been out with him a couple of times." I shrugged again, trying for a casual tone. "Can't turn down a free meal. Even if you do have to skip a few afterwards." I knew that was the attitude most of the girls would take. Hopefully Jack would buy it.
"Course you couldn't, Princess. What working girl would?" He smirked a little when I raised an eyebrow. "And by working, I mean just that. Working. So no need to get on your high horse." He back up a step, looking me over. "Even with those oh so lovely legs of yours."
"Funny," I said shortly. "Look, I've really got to get back to work. You gonna show me how to get out of here or not?"
+ + + + + +
"Problem, Mr. Angel?" The pit boss approached me, a shit-eating grin on his face. I sighed inwardly, trying to tell myself that Cordelia was all right, and that I shouldn't blow the case looking for her.
But it was hard. She was gone, hadn't been seen by Wes or Gunn or me in over half an hour now, and I wanted to tear the place apart until I found her. Screw my cover. She was more important.
"Actually, I was looking for..." And that was when she reappeared. Her hair was mussed, disheveled, and that smarmy Cockney bastard was following her.
They'd apparently been together.
Alone.
For half an hour.
The pit boss coughed delicately. "Looking for...?"
"Just looking." I turned to face him again, one eyebrow raised. "Is there something wrong with that?"
"Of course not, Mr. Angel. If you want to look around, that's certainly okay. Would you like a guide? I'd be more than happy to act as..."
"No. That's.. that's not necessary. I really just want a chance to wander around the place by myself. See what the average customer sees." Inwardly, I thanked David Nabbitt for staking this operation. Under the guise of a so-called "high roller", I'd been given pretty much free rein of the place. And I had enough money to throw around to back up the cover.
Which lead to a lot of toadying by the locals. I used that to my advantage on occasion. This was definitely one of those occasions.
"Is there a problem with that?"
"Of course not. That's quite alright. Not an uncommon request from our most special clients. I'll just.. leave you to it then, shall I? But if there's anything.. anything at all.. you need, please don't hesitate to contact me or anyone else in our establishment. We're here to cater to your every need."
"Thanks. I'll keep that in mind." I glanced over to where Cordelia was making her way through the tables, an empty tray in her hand. She'd managed to find it again and serve all the drinks, so that meant she'd be heading back for the bar again. She'd take about 3-4 minutes to refill the tray before heading out to the tables once more, so if I wanted to catch her, I needed to do it now.
Not that I was keeping track of her or anything. Not anymore than Wes or Gunn anyway. I mean, we were a team, a family, and I was interested in every member of... Thinking of Wes and Gunn, I realized I hadn't seen them in some time.
But right now my first priority was the brunette in the short skirt. The very short skirt. As I followed her back towards the bar, I took a good long look at her. She'd done more than her fair share of complaining about the uniform, but it certainly looked damn good on her.
And when had she gotten those legs? The ones that went all the way up to... I shook my head. Now wasn't the time for contemplating Cordelia's charms.
That could come later.
I finally caught up to her just before she reached the bar. I grasped her elbow and pulled her behind a bank of video slot machines.
"Angel," she hissed, turning to face me. "Good thing you showed up. I had a vision, and.."
"And what.. you couldn't wait to find me or one of the guys?"
"Wait?" She looked a little confused. "I didn't *wait* on anyone. Not like the visions keep to a regular schedule, you know. It just hit, and I..."
"Just what? Let that smarmy British bastard put his hands on you?"
She looked at me, totally mystified. "Angel, what is your damage? Vision hit with accompanying disorientation and/or dizziness, and Jack helped me out. That's.. that's all."
+ + + + + +
I didn't tell Angel the whole story. What was there to tell? That I'd gotten a weird vibe from Jack? That he didn't actually say or do anything threatening, but I'd felt threatened anyway? If I wanted to be taken seriously.. and I did, most definitely.. I had to have something a little more certain than a "weird vibe" to go on. So I glossed over my encounter with Jack and sent Angel after the girl in the vision. There was a little demonic mugging about to take place just outside the casino, and he was more than capable of handling it by himself.
I couldn't be sure that he'd completely bought into the 'Jack just helped me out' story. He knew me well enough by now to tell when I wasn't telling the whole truth, and I'm pretty sure he sensed there was more than I was telling. But he didn't press me on it - thank God - and finally I got back to work.
But I was aware of eyes following me around that night while I finished out my shift. Angel, of course. He'd been watching me since we got here, and I was used to that. But Jack's gaze fell on me more than once, and so did the high roller who'd originally asked about me. And while I did look pretty good in the uniform, and I knew the high heels did good things for my legs (in terms of looks - the things caused shin splints and blisters like you wouldn't believe), I didn't think it was my charms that were responsible.
Whatever the case, I was pretty thankful when my shift ended. I made my way 'backstage' and to the ladies lounge, opened my locker with a weary sigh. And there, sitting on top of my street clothes and sneakers was a note. I looked around the empty lounge before I pulled it out and opened it.
Cordelia,
I really enjoyed our meal the other night, and was
hoping to do it again. Would you care to meet me
near the entrance of the Blue Lounge around 2 am?
Angel
I didn't have to be Sherlock Holmes to know the note was a fake. Not only was it not in Angel's handwriting, we hadn't actually had dinner together. And since I'd only told one person the fake story, it was pretty easy to figure out who sent it. Was Jack the one? Was he responsible for all the disappearances?
Making my way back to the employee area that joined the men's and women's lounges, I was lucky enough to find Wes waiting. I usually met him and Gunn there when our shifts ended. We were sharing a small aparment a couple miles away, and cab fare was outrageous in Vegas.
"Check this out," I said, handing him the note. "It's a fake."
"Obviously," said Wesley, taking a moment to read it. "But we shall have to follow up on it. I'll find Gunn and Angel, let them know what's happening. You can't be seen outside the lounge until it's time to make this appointment."
"No problem," I said, "Just don't be late."
"Be careful, Cordelia." Wesley peered at me through his glasses, concern for me etched on his face. I smiled reassuringly.
"No worries there, Wes. Not looking to be a hero today."
* * * * * *
"You what?" I knew my voice was a little loud, but I couldn't believe what I was hearing. "You told her she could go meet this creep?"
"Angel, please stay calm. I've already told Gunn, and he's waiting near the lounge in question. She's perfectly safe, and..."
I didn't wait to hear anymore. I hurried to the lounge, cursing Wesley and Gunn.. and Cordelia herself.. all the way. How dare they put her in that kind of danger? How dare she allow herself..? If anything happened to her, heads were gonna roll.
Only, not literally. Although they could. If I wanted them to.
But as I rounded the last set of slot machines, I could see Gunn and Cordelia standing there. Gunn had his arms crossed, and Cordelia was waggling her finger in some guy's face. The man, an older man, shorter than her by a good 6 inches, was backing away, and she was following him step by step. He finally turned and hurried away, nearly running me down in the process When I looked back at the others, they were both laughing uncontrollably. Slowing to a walk, I made my way to where they were standing.
"False alarm," gurgled Cordelia. "It was just old man Henderson."
"Just old man Henderson?" I kept my voice calm, not without effort.
"Dirty old man, makes moves on the girls all the time." Gunn, still smiling, looked past me, I assume to where the man was still hurrying away. "He's a high roller so the bigwigs keep it on the down low. He's basically harmless."
"Basically.. he's... you think.. *harmless*?..."
Cordelia interrupted before I could get any more incoherent. "He overheard me talking to Jack. I had to tell him you took me out." She gave me a Look. "Had to say something to explain Mr. Master of Subtlety and his let's-scare-everyone-away-from-Cordy act."
I opened my mouth to respond, then closed it again. She was right. I knew it, Wes and Gunn knew it, and of course she knew it. But that didn't mean I had to admit it.
"If your shift's over, you guys should go home. Get some rest." I looked at the others first, then fixed my gaze on Cordelia. She'd recovered from the vision, mostly, but she still looked a little pale. I knew Wesley would make sure she was okay, but I still didn't like not being there myself. "I'm going to make a few more rounds then call it a night myself."
"We're not getting anywhere with this." Her voice was soft, troubled, "We haven't seen a sign of anything more ominous than dirty old men and the occasional card counter."
"Don't worry about it anymore tonight." I relaxed a little, aware that some small part of me buried deep inside was glad there hadn't been anything overtly suspicious. I didn't want her in danger--didn't want any of them in danger, I corrected myself silently. "Let's meet tomorrow afternoon, put our heads together and see what we've got."
"Fine," said Cordelia, pulling her bag up and over one shoulder. "But it won't take long to talk about the big nothing we've accomplished so far."
After making arrangements to meet at an inconspicous diner the following day, the other three turned to leave. I watched them, somehow warmed just by the sight of them. It had been a long year, a hard year, and through my own stupidity I'd almost thrown away the best thing that had ever happened to me. I'd never had a family, not really. Darla, Spike, and Dru had been the closest thing to it, and warped and twisted didn't even cover my time with them. Buffy... Buffy had been special, but I'd always been on the fringes of the crowd in Sunnydale, a part of things only because of my association with her. This was different. *They* were different.
And if my eyes lingered a little longer on the slim brunette in the middle... well, that was only because I'd known her longer. Known her better. At least, that's what I tried very hard to convince myself as I turned back to the casino.
But when I finally got back to my suite a good hour later, it took only a few words from a harried phone call for that line of thought to fly right out the window.
It was ringing when I opened the door, and I hurried to answer it. "Angel, where have you been?" Wesley's voice was clipped, and I felt my unbeating heart sink right down to my toes. "We've got a serious problem."
